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  1. My first attempt at abdl fiction, as the story mainly revolves around a male student and his female teacher. Wanted to create a realistic scenario that resembled a dream fantasy of mine that pushed realism to its limits while showing how abdl play can help out people in real life. Depending on demand and reactions would be open to adding more chapters but also think it does wrap up nicely after only 2. Thanks for reading. A Leep of Faith Chapter 1 Mike’s Fateful Accident It was a crisp autumn afternoon in a small rural midwest town , where the colorful leaves danced in the gentle breeze. Mike Masters, was a well liked fairly popular student, he had a slender thin build yet excelled at wide receiver for the school football team. Mike took pride being a diligent hard working student athlete enrolled as an 8th grader at the prestigious Sunny Hills Junior High. His main source of diligence had always been his secret crush, his vibrant 7th period English teacher, Ms. Leeper. Her cheerful demeanor and nurturing nature had captured Mike's heart from the moment he stepped into her classroom. Lucky for him she was also his 8th period home room teacher, which meant he got to end each day, entranced by her aura, for two whole hours. Ms. Leeper’s vibrant natural curly hazel hair always lit up her classroom and beautifully complimented her curvy figure and helped shape out her perfectly buoyant chest. She recently had just sent her two daughters away to college on the east coast to be closer to their Dad who was trying to make amends for putting his furniture business “Sals Sofas” before his marriage and kids when their daughters were real young. What once started as a way to create opportunity for their marriage and family’s future created a black void across it, which in turn tore a huge hole in Ms. Leepers heart that was unrepairable. Even shortly after her painful divorce, she knew it was important for her daughters to have a loving father figure in their life and luckily after a few years, her ex had started being just that as the girls began nearing high school age. Through all the devastating heart break of missing her daughters, she continued to always exude warmth and kindness to her students. She saw great potential in Mike early on and appreciated his eagerness to learn, often singling him out as a leader in the class, something he developed quickly from his success on the football field. She had always wanted a son of her own, but after her divorce when the girls were only 2 and 3 years old her dreams of having a special little boy faded away quickly. Mike, in turn, loved his parents and they had a pretty good relationship but since he had begun to show a rapidly rising maturity level, they both had started working night shifts at the local Kraft factory to increase their salaries. This consequently meant they never got to spend much time together as a family anymore. They took on the challenge of the night shifts not strictly for money but also out of love and wanting to provide a decent house and car for Mike in the future. This however was never requested by him and he knew he would never grieve over not having the best car or house, he simply wanted to be close to his parents and be able to confide in somebody 100% trustworthy. Due to these new circumstances, he began shifting those feelings towards his teacher and looked forward to each day at school, eager to pull up a chair and bathe in Ms. Leeper's light. One day, after finishing his English work ahead of schedule, Ms. Leeper entrusted Mike with additional responsibilities. He was to assist Mrs. Sunny, a friend and co-worker of hers, who had left for the day to lead her students and toddlers to go visit the nearby high school’s advanced training program, in cleaning up and organizing the preschool room after a wild and crazy morning. Their junior high preschool room was an educational launch pad for students who wanted to begin to learn and develop child care skills. This was done as toddlers were dropped off daily from parents, taking full advantage of free childcare by the schools students, under Mrs. Sunny’s helpful and guided supervision. Mike had always been busy with football and numerous advanced academic subjects and had actually never entered this seemingly daycare like room. As he slowly creaked opened the door a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He was greeted by bright fluorescent lights shining upon ninja turtle toys, legos, puzzles, and a surprising sight – a large bright yellow changing table stacked with a single Mickey Mouse pull-up and several larger toddler sized diapers. Memories of his childhood desires to be babied resurfaced instantly as Mike gazed at the changing table in wonderment. He had always harbored a secret yearning to be free of responsibility, to be cared for without judgment, a stark contrast to his hard and rigorous after school football practices and summer two a days. The thought of being back in diapers, a symbol of innocence and carefree days, stirred a mix of excitement and shame within him. Mike was very surprised to come to the conclusion the pull-up and large toddler sized diapers appeared to be the same size of his white athletic Adidas brand spandex brief undies. He quickly snapped out of this day dream he was in and was driven by a surge of determination. He threw himself into the task of cleaning the preschool room with unparalleled zeal. He scrubbed, sprayed, and rearranged the furniture at the same speed he ran his wide receiver cone drills, transforming the space into a sparkling haven for the younger children, and older student mentors. Exhausted from his efforts combined with the lingering and dizzying chemical fumes of the cleaning supplies, Mike decided to take a brief snooze on one of the soft nap mats. He thought it was well deserved and justified since he was now once again ahead of his scheduled tasks. Some time after, around 5:00 pm Ms. Leeper was busy grading around 120 English tests in her classroom. Suddenly she realized the final school bell had long ago tolled and that Mike had not bid her goodbye as he usually did at the end of the day amid the craziness of final period. Concerned, she hurried to the preschool room to check on him. Upon discovering him curled up on a toddler nap mat, she couldn't help but smile at his innocent slumber. She giggled at the site of him laid up on his tummy, his head to his side with the his thumb tucked into his mouth. It was a cute but slightly shocking sight to her given his age, fully unaware that this was a habit of Mike’s, he had recently developed involuntarily during his sleep, as a way to deal with his new found loneliness at home. She was instantly convinced he had given her 110% effort again for the day, as nobody she knew could sleep through the high pitched siren of the final bell and students exiting the school like herded zoo animals, unless they were dead tired from exhaustion. However, her smile quickly faded as she slowly rolled him from his stomach onto his back and noticed a wide dark stain had spread across the front of Mike's grey sweatpants. The stain had also spread slowly up his body like the horror cult classic “the blob” and eventually grew so big it went past his waist band and into the mid section of his baby blue nike swoosh shirt. Ms. Leeper quickly knew it was evident that he had lost control due to the exhaustion caused by his intense cleaning spree. He had indeed peed his pants like a preschool toddler boy while sleeping. Ms. Leeper’s heart started brimming with compassion along with a small amount of guilt, for delivering the task of cleaning, to her star student. She felt the need to make up for her error in judgment and, gently roused Mike from his slumber. After a few seconds he slowly came to and acknowledged the accident by immediately snatching his wet pants like a fumbled football on the ground, as he teared up and started murmuring “I’m sorry” over and over again. With the school nurse's office closed now and all the students gone from the building for the day, Ms. Leeper sprang into action, utilizing the diaper changing supplies in the daycare room to tend to Mike's needs. She escorted him to the bright yellow wooden changing table. While approaching the table she assured him everything would be okay, then swiftly turned back to him while tapping the table twice saying “Okay you can get fully undressed and hop up here Mr. Mike Masters.” Mike began to tremble at the thought of being fully exposed to his radiant secret crush, but his options were limited. He slowly started to try to peel down his pee stained undies and sweatpants as they clung to his baby soft skin like a thick orange peel on a hot summer day. Ms. Leeper reassured him that her girls were once young and this wasn’t her first rodeo for situations like this. As she calmly whispered to him, “Accidents like this happen even to good boys like you maybe not as old you but they still happen.” Ms. Leeper meticulously grabbed 3 pampers baby scented wipes, in an attempt to eradicate the urine particles off his skin, then some cooled pink baby lotion was applied and finally topped off by a small mushroom cloud of baby powder. Ms. Leeper quickly spotted a green Rocky Paw Patrol shirt left behind from this mornings class. It fortunately had an XXL toddler size tag popping out from below the back collar. She sat Mike up briefly and as his long legs dangled from the table nearly touching the white tile floor she held it up to his chest. “Looks like it will be a tad snug but with your slight frame it should still fit and definitely will be better than wearing that,” as she pointed to his pee stained nike shirt crumpled up in the corner. As Ms. Leeper laid him back down and grabbed the last 5T-6T Mickey Mouse pull-up she attempted to also stretch it out for him, in a moment of misfortune her perfectly manicured teal nails tore the thin hip tapes by accident. Almost all of the potty training preschoolers were using these pull-ups to help prevent messy accidents and there were now no more left, Ms. Leeper had no choice but to opt instead for the Sesame Street size 8 Pampers baby diapers overflowing from the woven yarn constructed diaper bin organizer. Mike, caught in a reverie, felt a surge of arousal at the unexpected turn of events. Ms. Leeper's warm smile and understanding demeanor calmed his embarrassment, instilling a sense of security in him. She softly instructed him to lift his legs and slid an Elmo themed diaper underneath his freshly powdered bum. The softness in which he felt, as he traversed his backside slowly downwards on top of the diaper, shot waves of emotion and excitement everywhere. The strong pampers scent swirled within his nostrils like the smell of grapes for a wine tasting expert exploring the Italian countryside. Ms. Leeper whimsically undid both tapes stretched them out as wide as they possibly would go and secured them forcibly upon Mike’s inner thigh section and to the front of Elmos tangled furry red cheeks. In nothing but a paw patrol shirt and a pampers diaper she grabbed his hand again and guided him to the full sized red bordered mirror by the wash station across the room. Standing in front of the mirror, Mike was met with the immediate reflection of an Elmo diaper peeking out from under his tight small shirt, a stark reminder of his vulnerability. Ms. Leeper, recognizing his need for comfort and care, gently reassured him all his friends and multiple ex-girlfriends of the past had long left school for the day and she had texted his football coach letting him know he had a sudden illness in class and would have to miss practice per school policy. Ms. Leeper on top of everything else eloquently manufactured a plan to escort Mike to her house first to retrieve some tom boyish clothes from her daughter’s room and then would escort him back home by dinner. From there he would have plenty of time before his parents arrived home from work to wash away his bedwetting evidence. As they glided down the road in her Toyota Sienna, it felt like more of a ride on a white fluffy cloud of relief. Ms. Leeper peered at Mike through her rearview mirror and couldn’t help but plant a seed of an idea. She asked him quizzically, if he wanted to start spending Satudays with her in the preschool room, and become her special "boy" allowing them to extend this secret bond between eachother. As her favorite student she wanted to ensure his accident wouldn’t deter his confidence and drive. In fact she wanted to reward him in a sense and make this bond unbreakable. As Ms. Leeper's words sunk in like a heavy wet mud to Mike’s brain, he felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him. The promise of acceptance and understanding from his beloved teacher overshadowed the lingering embarrassment of his accident. In that moment, what made him shyly murmur yes was, he found solace in the notion of being cared for, and being seen finally without judgment, all of which would come directly from his favorite teacher, it was truly a dream come true! And so, born from the quiet confines of the preschool room and due to a sopping wet bed wetting accident, a lustful bond blossomed between Mike and Ms. Leeper. A bond built on trust, understanding, and a shared secret that tied them together in a world of innocence and unconditional acceptance. As the school day faded into twilight and he waddled from her garage to inside her house for a pair of jeans and a new shirt that fit, the promise of a new beginning lingered in the air, shrouded in mystery and possibility. Chapter 2 Trust Tested As late fall slowly turned into winter, what started as a simple agreement for Mike to spend his Saturdays at the school daycare under Ms. Leeper's care. Gradually transformed into a journey of trust, acceptance, and a special kind of nurturing love. Ms. Leeper, with her warm smile and gentle demeanor, showered Mike with the kind of affection and care usually reserved for a herculean mother and son bond. Each weekend brought a plethora of fun activities – from coloring sessions to board games, and even action figures that took on a life of their own in the imaginative space they shared. But it was glaringly obvious the act of potty training regression back into the world of baby diapers was what truly defined their bond. The Sesame Street pampers, with their cheerful characters, became a symbol of safety and security for Mike. After his first accident and changing session they both understood diapering him was the catalyst for their arrangement to thrive. Knowing that he could let go of his bladder without worry, feeling the soft diaper gently expand against his skin when he did, the slight hint of urine and baby powder in the air, brought a sense of comfort that transcended the physical realm. To Mike, these weekend days were more than just moments of play; they were a sanctuary where he could be himself without fear of judgment, a place where he felt truly felt accepted and cared for. Mike's parents would drive and drop him off every Saturday morning to Sunny Hills. After arriving home from their night shifts at Kraft around 8am, the timing worked out well and the drive provided them a perfect opportunity for them to catch up with stories from their days. Ms. Leeper and Mike had also brilliantly convinced them, that these Saturday sessions were extra tutoring opportunities to help Mike excel in his education and increase his chances of any an Ivy League football scholarship . And in a way, they were, Ms. Leeper understood Mike's deep-seated desire to be treated like a toddler, free from the pressures and expectations of his peers and parents. Making him study on Saturdays would destroy that instantly, and he was already well ahead in school completing honors level high school assignments. This therapy during the time they shared, helped him conquer his biggest obstacle which was a rare but seemingly random and extremely debilitating social anxiety. This grew from harboring a deep secret he was unable to share until now. As an 8th grade student trying to lead his peers and find an important place in life, Mike found solace in the compassionate embrace of his teacher and he began to dominate his mental health like an undersized cornerback. He at once finally felt more at peace and a huge sense of relief, that somebody else finally knew who he really was and fully embraced him for it. As the weeks passed, their bond deepened, and on this particular Saturday morning in mid December, they had their first real challenge that would test the limits of their relationship. A lingering discomfort from a big pre game meal of tacos, stirred in Mike's stomach. As he gritted through the concerning pain, they opted to watch "Monsters Inc." together. Mike placed two cozy nap mats together like KitKat bars, in the middle of the classroom. Curled up in his Cookie Monster diaper and a bright red t-shirt, exhaustion crept over Mike from a hard fought friday night football game. As he yawned heavily and drifted off to sleep during the first act of the movie, a dream soon unfolded, blending the realms of reality and his subconscious fears. In this dream, he stood before his classmates and fellow teammates, delivering a history presentation, only to feel a familiar unsettling rumble in his stomach. As a George Washington portrait stared back at him from his presentation slide, a wave of panic washed over Mike, as his knees nervously buckled and a small brown turd made its presence known poking out between his toned cheeks. Desperate for a break, his pleas were met with stern rejection from his history teacher Mrs. Wolf, forcing him to continue as his howling discomfort slowly started to slide out of his butt and began steadily filling his tight white undies like a locomotive, building up speed from it’s starting position. The humiliation reached its peak as the pressure in his stomach became so powerful he was forced to fall to his knees and poop rapidly began avalanching from his seemingly numb rectum. The brown tidal wave started seeping out of his undies and sliding down his legs like a spit ball on a class room window. The aroma in the air alongside the large dark brown stains popping up like gophers, on his light faded blue jeans, gave his classmates a clear indication of what had transpired. In matrix like slow motion, they all began pointing and laughing, as the shame engulfed him and beads of sweat and tears trickled down his face. Seemingly paralyzed with fear, he tried his hardest to stand and run out the room like he was performing a 40 yard dash, but his knees felt as if they were glued to the classroom floor. In the midst of this distressing dream, Ms. Leeper's voice cut through the chaos, gently shaking him awake. Her soft words carried concern as she suspected that Mike had indeed fully soiled his Cookie Monster pamper involuntarily. With a mix of embarrassment and fear, Mike crawled on all fours to her left side as she confirmed the messy reality. Pulling down the purple waistband of his diaper, it was instantly obvious what Mike had done. Caught off guard by the magnitude of the situation, Ms. Leeper's initial shock gave way to a stern demeanor as she directed Mike to stand by the changing table. She thought to herself briefly what a mess. Her fear was that he was now fully on track to becoming regressed behind his control. This was of course something she anticipated but never thought would truly happen. The unforeseen turn of events sparked a mix of emotions in both teacher and student. It was one thing for Mike to have a common bedwetting accident but not being able to control his bowels to the point of filling his diaper with poop was a major concern. Mike, overwhelmed by her reaction, began to cry, pleading for forgiveness and expressing his remorse. Ms. Leeper, with a slight sarcastic grin and new found deeper understanding of the situation, realized the extent to which Mike had regressed before her eyes. She saw the vulnerability and trust he had placed in her, a responsibility she didn't take lightly and wanted to reciprocrate. In a bid to guide Mike through this poignant moment, Mrs. Leeper decided to create an experience that would challenge and transform him further. She painstakingly lead him from the changing table to the large red mirror once again. She dragged a small coloring table nearby, and then emphasized how dangerous it would be to regress past a toddler age and into infant status. She sternly asked him through the mirror reflection “Are you my special little boy or are you a baby with a poop filled smelly diaper?” Her words echoed in the room as she proclaimed once again that big boys don't have poopy accidents, and that this was something only helpless babies did. She then asked if she needed to call his parents asap and suggest putting him in diapers for the whole week. Mike's tears and nervous excitement went into complete overdrive as he strained his voice and yelled out NOOOoooo Ms. Leeper… each syllable slightly muted by his sniffles and the wet snot seeping out of his nose. But his protests fell on deaf ears as his reality became a cascade of conflicting emotions – embarrassment, shame, and a deep sense of surrender, as Ms. Leeper bent him over the coloring table and gave two stern but rather gentle swats to his soiled diaper. The warmth and mush of his sudden mishap caressed his white silky butt. He hadn’t recalled this exact feeling since he was an actual prospective toddler learning to conquer the trials of pottytraining. His increased arousal became glaringly obvious as a tent shaped bulge protruded out from the front of his soggy pamper distorting Cookie Monsters face and giving him an even more cross eyed look. Feeling the weight of his actions, and his tears cascading his cheekbones, Mike found himself in a identity situation that blurred the lines between an over achieving student, star athlete, bright eyed toddler and utterly helpless baby. Ms. Leeper, with a mix of compassion and authority, guided him through this wonderment, unraveling layers of emotions that had long been suppressed within him. She proceeded to give him two more forceful swats which caught him completely off guard again resulting in a complete loss of his bladder as well. As he stood in the classroom bent over a preschool coloring table crying, the sounds of his sobs were overtaken by the loud hissing of his urine from his fully erect penis, splashing less then a centimeter away, from the inner lining of his snug sagging pamper. A slight trickle, followed by large multiple yellow streams, began rushing down his smooth slender legs. His Cookie Monster diaper had reached its capacity and was no longer able to contain his complete loss of control. This was in stark contrast to the night before where he was in complete control and scored 3 touchdowns, while leading his team to a dominate win against rival Lincoln Land Prep to a tune of 54-10. Ms. Leeper set aside her amazement, softly grabbed his hand and whispered it’s okay Mike babies have accidents and I think that is just who you now are for today, but lets make an effort to really try next week to poop on the potty. This was the ultimate acceptance, his diaper was as heavy, wet, and soiled as it could get it and she still at the end of the day loved him and wanted what was best for him. With stylized grace she gently guided him to the changing table as he popped his thumb in his mouth and put his head down for the entire short journey. As they neared the table she squatted down and lifted him up onto the bright yellow rubber ducky decorated changing mat. More poop squeezed against his skin like play-doh on a newly waxed garage floor. She softly pulled back his thumb from his pouty lips and replaced it with a pacifier that said Mommy in bright blue and white font. Mike had now surrendered completely to the vulnerability of the moment. The sensation of being wiped clean from his poopy accident, the soothing touch of lotion on his now pristine skin, triggered a flood of sensations he had never experienced before and was heightened to a nirvana like sense. As Ms. Leeper smiled softly while grabbing a Big Bird diaper, she realized these were the super thick overnight pampers, and would give Mike a sense of reassurance that it contain another major accident. In that moment of vulnerability and acceptance, he realized the depth of their connection, transcending the roles of teacher and student. Ms. Leeper's promise and drive to always care for her favorite boy resonated in the air, carrying a sense of understanding and unconditional love. In the quiet confines of the school daycare, amidst the toys and the faint scent of baby powder, a bond had been forged – one that embraced the complexities of trust, acceptance, and the beauty of vulnerability. The sound of her pulling back the velcro tapes of his new diaper, followed by her clamping his two ankles together with one hand and lifting his white coated butt so she could slide the diaper underneath him, sent shockwaves through his nervous system. The fully erect part of Mike’s body pulled and recoiled back like a war cannon as it proceeded to shoot a slimy cloudy white missile straight into the sky. As Mike felt his whole body become numb while simultaneously feeling pleasure everywhere, his self shot missile came straight back down to earth, landing on his belly and creating the appearance of a mini bowl of slimy soup. Ms. Leeper bent over the front of the changing mat, gasping with a hand over her mouth covering up the slight grin that had started to form. Knowing she had indeed stirred up his desires to a point he was able to lose control of another bodily fluid was a moment she knew neither of them would ever forget. She grabbed one more wipe cleaned up the soup bowl and securely fastened his thicker Big Bird diaper. As he stared up at her with his back laid on the changing mat their day unfortunately started to draw to an end. Mike and Ms. Leeper hoped to carry forward a connection that would continue to shape their lives, and expand this motherly love that knew no bounds.
  2. Just a short little one-shot I've been working on the last few days. --- Mandy was staying with her college roommate, Amy, and her family during spring break. The dorms had kicked them out for the week and she wasn't able to afford a plane ticket to fly home or a hotel to stay in. Thankfully, the Peterson's had graciously offered to let her stay with them for the week. Things were completely normal her first night there. The second night, however, was when things got weird. At nine o'clock that night, Amy's mother entered the room they were sharing unannounced. She took a seat on Amy's bed and looked at the two girls. Mandy was confused, even more so when she looked over and noticed that Amy was staring at the floor with a red face. "Alright girls, it's Saturday night. Amy, you already know what that means. Mandy, I'm guessing by your confused face that Amy has never told you about Maintenance Night. Amy, explain what Maintenance Night is." Mrs. Peterson ordered her daughter. "Maintenance Night is the night of the week when I get my maintenance spanking. It's where I am disciplined for any bad behavior, so that I can go into the new week with a fresh start." Amy explained, incredibly embarrassed. Mandy was shocked. Her roommate, a full adult in college, got spanked by her mom every week? She wondered if that was why Amy went home every weekend? Mandy enjoyed the alone time it gave her, but knowing this it now made her feel guilty. "That's right. Come on Amy, let's get started." Mrs. Peterson said. Mandy watched in awe as her roommate grabbed a hairbrush off of her dresser, handed it to her mom, and then started undressing. Not just to her underwear either, Amy kept undressing until she was completely naked. After discarding her last article of clothing, she bent over her mother's lap and raised her butt in the air. Mrs. Peterson quickly raised the hairbrush and smacked it down on her daughter's bottom. Mandy stared in a shocked stupor as she watched her adult roommate receive a spanking. Amy's bottom quickly began taking on a red hue that deepened in color as the spanking progressed. Before long, tears began flowing down Amy's face and she was bawling. She was repeatedly apologizing and telling her mom that she was going to 'be a good girl'. Her mom continued spanking for a little bit afterwards before finally stopping. When the spanking was over, Amy stood up on her feet and embraced her mom in a hug. The hug lasted for about half a minute before Amy was ordered to get dressed and go to the corner. Mandy stared at Amy's glowing red bottom while she walked to the dresser. She was pulled out of her stupor by Mrs. Peterson addressing her. "Come on Mandy, your turn." Mrs. Peterson said, patting her lap. "W-what?" Mandy responded, confused. "It your turn for a maintenance spanking. Undress and lay down on my lap so that we can get started." Mandy's first instinct was to outright refuse. The Peterson's were letting her stay with them for free for over a week though. She didn't want to be rude and insult their traditions, even if they were weird as hell. There was a part of her that curious about it too. Amy was a straight A student who always finished her homework early. Could this be what made her like that? Hesitantly, Mandy approached Mrs. Peterson and began stripping. While doing so, she glanced over to Amy, who was in the middle of working a pull-up diaper up her legs. "Amy has trouble holding her bladder after a spanking. To prevent any accidents, she wears a Goodnite until morning. Now come on, finish undressing." Mrs. Peterson told Mandy. Mandy continued stripping until she was completely naked. While undressing, she watched Amy finish putting on the diaper and get dressed in a childish set of pajamas. Once finished dressing, Amy walked over to the corner of her bedroom and planted her nose in the corner. "Once your spanking is over, you'll have some corner time to reflect on what you did wrong this week and what you'll do better next week." Mrs. Peterson explained as Mandy finished undressing. Mandy covered her breasts with her arm while she slowly lowered herself down onto Mrs. Peterson's lap. Once in position, Mrs. Peterson rested one arm on the younger girl's back and raised the hairbrush into the the air with the other. With no warning, she brought it down hard and began Mandy's spanking. Mandy yelped as pain rushed through her bottom. She had never received a spanking before, and Mrs. Peterson was not going easy on her. It didn't take long for Mandy to start begging for the spanking to end. She had involuntarily began thrashing around, causing Mrs. Peterson to have to restrain her with her leg and free arm. Not too much longer later and Mandy was bawling worse than Amy had been minutes earlier. Mrs. Peterson kept spanking her for another minute though, until she was certain that Mandy had been thoroughly punished for whatever naughtiness she had committed that week. Mandy was only given a few seconds to compose herself before being guided back onto her feet. She was still crying and trying in vain to rub the pain out of her butt cheeks. "Okay Mandy, go over to Amy's dresser and pick out a Goodnite and pajama set. Both are in the second drawer." Mrs. Peterson instructed. "A G-Goodnite? I don't need that!" Mandy said through tears. Mrs. Peterson, not satisfied with that answer, stood up, pulled Mandy's hand away, and delivered two more spanks onto the poor girl's butt. Mandy cried out and tried to loosen her hand, but couldn't break free of the bigger adult's grip. "Mandy, this is the kind of naughtiness that maintenance spankings are supposed to prevent. Unless you think you need more spankings, I suggest you go grab yourself a Goodnite and pajama set." Mrs. Peterson threatened. Mandy, desperately wanting to avoid further spankings, conceded this battle and walked over to Amy's dresser. Inside the second drawer were several sets of matching, childish print pajama tops and bottoms. Sitting next to them were two stacks of pull-up diapers, exactly like the one Amy had just put on. Mandy groaned internally and grabbed one of them, examining the butterfly prints on it as she did so. She also picked up a white set of pajamas that had a pink trim and strawberry print design, which was the least childish one she could find. "Good girl. Bring them over and I'll help you get changed." Mrs. Peterson instructed Mandy. By this point, Mandy didn't have any fight left in her. The sooner she could get this over with, the better. Here she was, an adult, being spanked and made to pick out a diaper for herself. Anything from here on couldn't be any worse. Mandy brought everything over to Mrs Peterson. The older adult grabbed the Goodnite from the pile and held it out for Mandy to step into. Once she realized what was expected from her, Mandy stepped both legs into the garment and allowed her roommate's mom to pull it up her legs. Mandy, now diapered, was at least thankful that her vagina was no longer exposed. Mrs. Peterson then helped Mandy into the pajama set as well. "Okay Amy, corner time is over. Go finish getting ready for bed while Mandy has her turn. Mandy, go take Amy's place in the corner and reflect on your naughty deeds." Mrs. Peterson ordered. Mandy had forgotten Amy was even there. Still lacking any fight, she silently obeyed her roommate's mom and walk into the corner. She stood there for what felt like an eternity. She wasn't thinking about any 'naughty deeds', but instead how absurd this entire situation was. She was thankful that Amy's mom couldn't tell what she was thinking. That night, Mandy slept on her stomach. The diaper she was wearing was making it hard for her to sleep, despite how exhausted she was. The padding was much thicker than the thin panties that she was used to. She woke up the next morning to Mrs. Peterson entering their shared room and telling them that breakfast is ready. The first thing Mandy noticed was the dull pain in her bottom, the second was the thick, cold padding between her legs. Mandy shot up in surprise at the realization of what she had done. She hadn't wet the bed in over thirteen years! But here she was now, wearing a soaking wet diaper. Mrs. Peterson, likely already knowing what had happened, walked over to Mandy. "Did you have an accident, Mandy?" She asked. "U-umm." Mandy tried to answer, having trouble articulating an appropriate response. "It's okay if you did. I'm sure Amy's Goodnite is soaked too." Mrs. Peterson responded. "Y-yes." Mandy answered, meekly. "Did you leak at all?" The older woman asked. "W-what?" "Did your Goodnite leak?" Mrs. Peterson, not liking Mandy's lack of an answered, bent over and pulled the girl's covers off. She grabbed Mandy under her armpits and hoisted her onto her feet. Mandy, mortified by this, stood in shock and just let it happen. Mrs. Peterson then pulled down her pajama pants and exposed the wet diaper she was wearing. The padding of the diaper had expanded a good amount and was sagging between Mandy's legs. It hadn't leaked, but it couldn't hold much more. "No leaks. Let's go down stairs and eat. You can get changed after breakfast." Mrs. Peterson said, going over to her daughter to finish rousing her. ----- After breakfast, Mandy was able to shower and change back into her normal clothes. The rest of the week progressed as if the events of Saturday night and Sunday morning had never happened. No spankings, no childish pajamas, and no diapers. Not even a mention of any of the three. That was, until Saturday night came around again. Mandy had spent all of Saturday dreading it, hoping that last week had just been a bad dream. It wasn't a dream though. That night, Mrs. Peterson enter the room and gave both girls a hard, hairbrush spanking. Just like last week, she made both change into a Goodnite diaper before dressing them in childish pajamas and sending them to the corner. Also like last week, Mandy woke up the next morning to a still-sore bottom and a wet diaper. That Sunday was the day they were able to go back to their dorm. Mandy couldn't wait, she was ready to get far away from this house and hopefully never come back. As they were loading up the car, Mrs. Peterson stopped them for a chat. "Mandy, it was great having you over this week." She said. "Thank you for letting me stay, your home is lovely." Mandy responded. "I wanted to talk to you about something before you go. I was talking with Amy, and she said that she's noticed you acting different. She believes that you've been kinder and more patient. We both think that the maintenance spankings are really helping you, which is why I want you to come back here with Amy every weekend from now on." Mrs. Peterson said, making it sound more like a command than a request. "O-oh, u-um, I don't know if..." Mandy tried to answer before getting interrupted. "It's settled then. I'll see you and Amy next Saturday." Mrs. Peterson said, enveloping Mandy in a hug. Mandy didn't know what to say. The last thing she wanted was a weekly spanking by her roommates mom. She thought about outright refusing, but she knew that it probably wasn't going to be that simple. She had a suspicion that if she didn't show up with Amy that Mrs. Peterson would come to their dorm to collect her or worse, administer a spanking there. There wasn't really an easy way out. "R-right." Mandy said nervously as she placed her bag in the car. This was going to be a long spring term.
  3. Marta

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

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    From the album: Me

    © Marta

  13. A/N: IMPORTANT TO NOTICE Hey all! I hope you're all doing well! Do not worry! I am still working on my other stories but had started this a while ago and felt like I should post it! Just a warning in the beginning that this story will contain a lot of non-con, sexual content and humiliation. If this makes you uncomfortable than I suggest you don't read it! I love seeing comments so I'd love to see everyone's comments! ooOoo Summary: When a young new independent journalist decides to write about something other than the typical run of the mill stories, she is introduced into a new life, just not in the way she expected. ooOoo Chapter 1: MommyslittleBiggurls.com 22 December 2021 Hello Friends! It sure has been a while! I hope you’re all doing well on this frosty morning. Here in Montana, we’re certainly going to have a white Christmas. Sugar and Cookie sure are excited to see Santa and have been extra careful to be good girls; always asking for the potty like good little girls, eating all of their veggies at dinner and making sure to drink all of their babas full of yummy milk! I’m sure you all are experiencing the same with your little ones at the moment, even the disobedient can’t ignore the happy cheer of Christmas. I really can’t believe it’s only been three months since we first adopted our newest little girl, Honey! Of course with new littles, it’s always an adventure and Sugar and Cookie are being the best big sisters they can be! It can be hard, especially around the holidays to deal with an un-regressed, naughty little so that brings me to the topic of today’s post: Punishments. If you're like me or are a new caregiver, it’s never easy training a new little and before they can be our sweet little babies, they will be literal demons! It is never fun but in order to nip that naughty behavior in the bum, punishment is required and it is not always as simple as quick spanking. Listed below, you will find three different punishments to try if you, like me, were at a loss. Punishments: Punishment 1: Corner time with a twist Depending on the severity of the naughty behavior, instruct your little one it's corner time for a certain amount of time. While many, if not all, will just find this incredibly boring and whine, there is a small twist. Listen carefully to these five steps: Take littles’ clothes away (that means no diapers/pullups/or undies as well!), Give a nice soapy cold enema to their bum-bum and insert a buttplug to ensure no dribbles Administer a firm spanking (I’ve found different objects such as a belt or hairbrush to be most effective!) Little will bend down or kneel in the corner with their bum-bum high in the air for everyone to see After a certain amount of time, if the little has not moved from their position, you will instruct the little to tell you what they did wrong and have them beg to release their bodily functions. If you are unsatisfied with their response, even more minutes will be added to corner time Punishment 2: Potty Time with Horsy Let’s get real, we’ve all struggled with littles refusing to go potty in their diapers or on the training toilet and it’s a pain to have to insert enemas and suppositories into screaming littles. That’s how I came up with horsy time. The rocking horse, while meant to be an object of amusement during playtime, can just as quickly be turned into an object of torture. What you need to do is listed below: The little will sit on the rocking horse in only their bottoms, whether that be a diaper or pull-up Place earphones on little and set to the wet diaper hypnosis Instruct the little to rock back and forth and do not stop no matter what and not to mess or wet themselves Plan a certain amount of time and come back when the time is up If the little is still rocking and is dry, they have earned the privilege to go potty. If not, horsy time is extended and the dirty diaper stays on another several hours The constant rhythmic motion combined with hypnosis at the same timing will put the littles right in the mood to have to relieve themselves. How they do it will no longer matter. The added pressure to keep a constant rocking in order to avoid further punishment will take a heavy toll on their mind as well and increase the need for positive behavior. Punishment 3: No Playtime with Teddy If you choose to allow your little to have any sexual release, this punishment can have a rewarding effect. As a human race, we are sexual beings but not everyone deserves or should have such an experience. Littles have gotten it into their minds that they should be allowed to have such experiences, but what do they know? They’re just littles. It is our job as caretakers to instruct and control their urges. If we leave them to their own devices, who knows what will happen? My little girls are allowed one play session a week with Mr. Teddy Bear to release all of their icky cummies by the hand of mommy and daddy. While Rosie and Cookie know being a good girl will lead to happy feelings, Honey is still learning. Orgasm and cum denial or “the tickles and ice cream dance” as we call it, are an excellent way to assert dominance and make them quickly realize who the real grownups are and who is in charge. Mittens or restraints are a must for untrained littles! You never know where their wandering hands will end up! Chastity belts are also a great device, especially if they get a little too excited during playtime and try humping (which is extremely discouraged!) IMPORTANT: It is important to enforce anything sexual is not allowed without the approval, observation, and act by grown-ups because you never know when littles might accidentally injure themselves! I hope you all enjoyed my little list and hopefully it helps you on your journey to having a regressed little! It may seem tough at times but we’ve all gone through it before (I currently am!) Stay tuned for next time and meanwhile, have a Merry Christmas! Love, Mommy Bree ooOoo The sound of the ding signaling the post had been successfully posted was a happy feeling to say the least. Unknown outside the world of ageplay, Bree Hawthorne was as famous as could be within the community. With over ten thousand followers and readers, people tuned in from all over the world to read about their simple little family. Being a blogger on top of a mommy had become her full time job and she didn’t regret a single second of it. She always knew she wanted to have a family and her love for blogging couldn’t have been a more perfect combination. There were so many who envied to fill the role of a Hawthorne little but only so few could actually meet the requirements. That’s why they had taken to unique means of obtaining their little girls. Kidnapping was a bit too harsh a term. They preferred adoption. Did the public need to know that? No. Would they ever find out? Probably not. Looking around outside the large glass windows, the only view for miles was farmland with snow capped mountains in the background. Bloomington, Montana was the perfect place to go to if one didn’t want to be found. They had the freedom to be who they were without any nosey neighbors disrupting their lives. Her husband, coming from old money, allowed them to own lavish homes around the country, buy the newest high-tech adult-baby equipment and pay off those they needed to stay quiet. Everything was as it should be. Everything would soon be perfect. They were our babydolls. Sugar, Cookie, Honey and- “Another post?” Jasper. At the sound of his deep voice, she spun around in the swivel chair. Face to face with her blonde, strong-jawed, blue eyed handsome husband. He was everything she dreamed of in a man. Strong, smart, caring, loyal. A great daddy to their three wonderful girls. What more could a person ask of a spouse? “Yes. I’ve finished just in time for… lunch!” she exclaimed, glancing at the time and shutting down the macbook. “Today’s post was about punishments and I gave the best examples of Honey. How is she doing this morning actually? The baby monitor on her end has been awfully quiet.” she asked, having been in the office the entire morning working. “Sleeping.” was his only response, scowling with his hand over his face. “Do I want to know what happened?” “No.” It was always a struggle to tame the girl and her rebellious behavior and silly dreams. Most often then not her bum was black and blue, littered with marks and bruises. How a five foot, one-hundred-twenty pound girl with not an ounce of body fat had managed to give them this much a fight, they did not know. While the little blonde fought they pushed back just as hard. She would break eventually. They all do. “Sugar and Cookie are in the playpen writing letters to Santa,” that made them crack a smile. “I can feed them while you handle, Honey? I may just take her over my knee again and that’s not what she needs at the moment.” Bree reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck as his face burrowed into her kinky black hair, placing a trail of kisses upon her chocolate colored skin. “So it’s my turn to play the bad mommy,” she mused. “Precisely.” her husband cracked a smile. “It feels so much longer than three months since we got her. Remember?” Oh, how could they forget…
  14. After being disappointed with the lack of ABDL fantasy-adventure stories I decided to create my own. It’s just a silly little thing, but hopefully a bit of fun for those who carry on reading. This is a prelude to the story, so just setting some stuff up here, which may or may not come into play in the future... I dunno, we'll see, might not get that far lol. Either way, the prelude doesn't really have much in the way of ABDL content, purely world-building and story. Hopefully it's still entertaining. I'm uploading chapter 1 as a separate story. This is a re-upload. After some useful comments, I've decided to just upload all the stories in a single topic, which will be updated, and that should make everything easier to follow. Episode 2 will be out in a few weeks (as of 18/12/2021). Law of the Diaper - Prelude - Embos stood at the edge of the water. It crashed far beneath her, obeying only the wind. She had been waiting for her older siblings from across the ocean for a whole hour now, standing in a harsh storm that battered and bruised the cliff face below. Liefyr, her closest brother, had gone to get the others ready. So, she stood alone. The wind howled between her ears and tugged at her hair, and threatened, occasionally, to push her into the waters below. But she was the God of Craft. Embos wore boots of Caerson Steel, strong against the wind, and light to walk in. Each of her sibling gods on this side of the world had given their peoples a gift. Hers was Caerson, a metal both bountiful and useful. Embos hated waiting like this. She needed to do something, to be somewhere, though she didn’t know what on either account. Being the eldest of her siblings, at least of those that left Panthos, Embos felt a great responsibility to the others. A responsibility to nurture and raise. Despite being closer to Liefyr, in age she was similar to her older sibling Vafyr. And that made things complicated. Damn you Vaf, she thought, thinking of the young god. Why had he stayed with the others? Vaf was the weakest of their lot, and certainly wouldn’t be treated as their peer. With Embos and the others, he would be an equal, and great guide for the people here. Her head boiled again with anger, it had been more and more recently. Anger at the war, anger at her elder siblings, anger that she had little power by herself, and anger all she had to rely on were the youngest of gods. No, not anger. Disappointment. Instantly, she felt a pang of shame within her. They are just as valuable, just as powerful in their way. She had to admit, she was surprised at how seriously they were taking it. Normally Pelyr, the youngest of them and the God of Play, convinced Ranos and Liefyr to flunk this sort of thing. Maybe it was because Pelyr would never be able to play again if they failed, that he was taking it so seriously now. Whatever the case, Embos hoped it would last. Another great gust of wind barrelled across the grass, threatening to push Embos into the sea below. Waves crashed against the shore, the ocean’s white teeth foaming against jagged cliffs below. Dull beats, like someone playing the drums, echoed into the sky. The storm whistled around her ears, singing across the ocean. It was a tune she recognised. Looking up, Embos saw her older brother, Vafyr, silhouetted in the ocean mist. He walked on the air itself, using the wind as a path to the safety of the cliff. Around him, the grey mist somehow blushed a bright blue, as if he walked in a halo of sky. It was as if he was the colour of the world. Then again, Embos supposed, I guess he is. Within moments he was stepping onto the rock as if it were still the air, floating across newly budding grass. “Vaf!” Embos couldn’t help but let relief and no small amount of joy flood into her voice. Of all the people they could have sent, this was perhaps the best possible outcome. “Hello sister.” he said calmly, a broad smile across his face betraying any stoicism he might have masked himself with. “They thought you wouldn’t hurt me, so I was sent in place of a messenger.” Vafyr walked to Embos, he was more relaxed than she remembered. “Why would I hurt a messenger? Why would any of us--” “Em, please, I don’t think you’d hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. But that’s not how they think, is it?” Vafyr said as they walked down the shallow incline that led to the village below. Embos saw an opening. Now was the time. Now, after so many years, it was the perfect opportunity to ask. “Then why are you still--” but before Embos could finish, Vafyr cut her off. “I’m sorry, but I cannot say. I have my reasons, and hopefully you will find out soon.” “But I want to know now!” said Embos. She only realised how childish that must have sounded after she’d said it. However, Vaf didn’t seem to mind. He smiled broadly again, a glint in his eye. “Em,” he said, stopping and gently putting his hands on her shoulders. He was a foot taller than she was, towering over her. “I promise, now is not the time, but you will find out.” and that was all he said. Embos knew that was the end of it, she wouldn’t get anything else out of him. Time to move on. They continued their descent to the village. “So, why did you want to speak to us?” Embos asked, “I suppose it would be too much to ask for your loyalty?” The wind picked up again as Vafyr smiled, but the cold never came. Vafyr was too warm for that. “Unfortunately not.” he said, and then he went suddenly serious, his smile fading into what was almost a grimace. “The others want to make a deal with you.” Embos couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “You’re kidding. After all of this?” she said though a deep, slightly hysterical laughter. “After all you’ve put us through, now you want to make a deal?!” This was utterly ridiculous. Her older siblings never, never, made deals with those who were below them. And now they wanted to make a deal with not only ‘lesser gods’ but the enemy? “Now, I know what you are thinking-” Vafyr started to say, but Embos, finally managing to get control of herself, cut him off before he could do any more damage. “No, I’m sorry but no. You expect me to trust them after what they’ve done, not just to us, but the people of this world? This is stupid!” she said, and carried on walking towards the village. Vafyr stopped her, grasping her arm tightly, and suddenly this wasn’t so funny. Embos’ smiling face twisted into a scowl. “If you don’t trust them,” he said, looking deeply, so very deeply, into her, “Trust me.” They held a deep stare for a moment, before Embos broke away. What did he want? What was his plan? Their plan? He was serious, and Vafyr was rarely serious. “What aren’t you telling me Vaf?” He was holding something back, Embos knew it. There was something in his eyes, something curious, something important. He sighed, seeming resigned. “This is big Em. This is bigger than all of us. We came to a decision the other day, that this is the only way we’ll win this war.” He looked almost scared. Embos hadn’t seen him like this before. “What war?” “The only war that matters. There is … something coming.” Vafyr’s eyes glowed with a fearful anticipation. Whatever he was talking about, whatever was coming, was inevitable. The storm picked up again, blowing wind through the hills that edged the cliff face. It rippled across the grass, sending waves of darkness across the landscape. Trees, dotted here and there, swayed and danced about to the tune of the wind. Far above, clouds sped past. They swirled into each-other and ran towards dry land. Tiny droplets of rain hit skin, like pins-and-needles prickling across Embos’ body. Everything moved, everything was dynamic, everything had so much potential. For the first time, she realised how delicate it all was. While blades of grass flickered in the weather, one could simply halt each one with their thumb and forefinger. What would happen if all of this, this beautiful chaos, just … stopped? Embos realised she had been staring into space for a while. Vafyr had let go of her. She looked to her brother, searching for … something, some sort of solace, some sort of answer. Should she let him speak? Let the traitor influence their minds? If Vaf was lying they could lose their lands, their people, and their way of life to the gods across the water. But if he was telling the truth… “Em!” an energetic voice shouted from below. The two siblings atop the cliff whipped their heads around to look. It was Pelyr, their youngest sibling. Far below, the village people were out about behind him, interested to see what was going on. They all wore brightly coloured clothes, some in dungarees, some in onesies. Pelyr, spotting Embos, called again. “Em, c’mon, the others are back!” They could lose everything. If Vaf was right, everything would just stop. Embos raised her arm, shooting him a thumbs-up. Then, turning, she began again down the cliff. Vafyr stayed behind. “Sister …” he said, and Embos turned again. “Come on.” She said, “We have much to discuss.” Law of the Diaper - Episode 1 - FOST Fost waddled across the marsh. It was a miserable day, clouds had blocked the warm sun, leaving a thick grey gloom beneath. The marsh itself didn’t help much to quell the air of dullness that hung here either. It was slimy, squishy underfoot, and stank. And that wasn’t the only thing that stank. Fost fiddled with the leak guard of his diaper, attempting to make it more comfortable around his leg. It didn't do much. The diaper was just getting too full to ignore, he’d have to find that village as quick as possible, lest a rash set in. What’s worse, is that he was beginning to feel a little full in the bladder, and he didn’t suspect the diaper could hold another heavy wetting. “Damn.” he said to himself, stepping onto a raised patch of ground that was elevated comfortably out of the mud. Mud. The evil stuff came right up his leg, threatening to cling to his onesie. Not that much further, he thought to himself, then I can have a warm bath and a change. To make the rest of the journey easier on himself, he reached for his pacifier. It was attached to his neck with some old twine. It was nice, calming, and placated him enough to continue, at least for now. Now that his mind was clearer, Fost thought back to that old woman, and the conversation they had had a few days prior. What was it she wanted again? Ah, yes, that book on Strange Dymatagy. Apparently it was a rare thing that contained many more words than it did pictures. Fost scrunched his nose at the thought -- how strange. Books with many words were by no means rare, but they were usually owned by Mommies or Daddies, not another Little like himself. Though the woman was ancient, she was definitely a Little. It could only be a thick diaper between her legs that gave her that waddle, and besides, everyone knew that Littles were the only ones who could do proper Dymatagy. What a strange woman she had been. Living alone in the middle of nowhere, reading books not meant for her eyes. Oh well, thought Fost somewhat bitterly, a job’s a job. He was beginning to run low on funds besides much else, not that he had much to begin with. Besides, the village blacksmith here was apparently quite well known, and he needed a new sword as desperately as he needed a new diaper. After this, he’d be out of money. Hopefully the old woman’s job would set him up for after all of this. Before long, he had reached the bottom of a particularly high hill that had prevented him from seeing over the horizon. Salty mud and matted clumps of grass dotted the eleven foot tall mound, made worse by the recent rains. Fost looked at the hill and sighed heavily. Then, taking a large step, he pushed himself up and onto the mound, grunting loudly. Beneath his bare feet, the mud squelched and bubbled, rising through his toes. Another step, onto the steep slope. He placed his foot down and -- sloop. He slipped in the mud, falling backwards onto his polka-dot cloak and down into the mud below, pacifier flying out his mouth. Getting slowly to his feet again, Fost surveyed himself. He had a streak of brown mud down his favourite cloak. What’s worse, his onesie was now speckled with the stuff. Great, he thought, it’s going to be one of those days. He stepped forward again, making sure to be extra careful where he stood. One step up. His toes gripped into the mud. Two steps. He pulled his weight up. Three. Sloop. He slipped back down, falling onto his hands and knees. He tried again. One step. He gripped a tuft of grass, hard. Two steps. He yanked himself up. Three -- swooppllhh. Fost hit the mud with a loud splat. “aaaaAAAAHHH!” he shouted angrily. For the third time, he found himself at the bottom of that damned mound. Why was it so hard to climb a silly little hill? He used to be a soldier! A warrior! And now he was beaten by a little mud. “This is absurd!” he said through labored, angry breaths. It was. He brought his hand to the pacifier around his neck, intending to calm himself again. It was gone. No. No. It couldn’t be gone. Anger turned to panic, as he pressed his hand against his chest, hoping, desperately hoping, that it was just down his onesie. When he couldn’t find it there, he dived into the mud. It had to be here. It had to be here. Fost splashed and flailed in the muck, splattering the thick mess everywhere. He scooped through thick lumps of it, diving deep into the thick ooze to try and retrieve the pacifier. But he couldn’t find it. Panic turned to fear. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and his eyes felt heavy, watery. It was getting hard to see. On the very edge of tears, Fost just stood there, unable to move, unable to think. What would happen if he lost it? That one reminder? No. No. Fost was on the edge of storm, a raging tornado in his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling the tempest gather within him. It was energy. It was power. Without a thought for the consequences, he dived into the eye of the storm, summoning it to his will. The rage and the panic and the fear swirled around him, and when he opened his eyes again, a bright white glow consumed them all. He clapped his hands to the sky, feeling the energy inside him burst out and cascade across the air. Ignoring the resulting cramp in his stomach, Fost opened his hands as if pushing a great force outwards. As he commanded so the mud obeyed, and like a great gust of wind, a circle of force was drawn around Fost, clearing the mud. The pacifier, blue and starry, lay on the ground, helpless against the mud that had consumed it. Fost smiled when he saw it. It was safe now. He bent down, delicately picking it up. The twine had snapped. Of course it had. No longer raging, the storm died down, and without thinking, Fost dropped his area of force. His face strained for a moment, and the cramp in his abdomen grew. Automatically, he pushed, and a thick mass of his own mud entered his already full diaper. He sighed deeply, content. Now that nothing was holding it back, the mud that surrounded him swept back to fill the emptiness, and within a moment, he was standing in it again. It was okay. It was okay. The pacifier was nestled between Fost’s cupped palms, sitting against the warmth of his skin. One hand closed tightly, ever so tightly, around the pacifier, and he used his other to swing his travel-sack off from beneath his cloak. It was small, only containing some food, some coin and a couple of books, but all had escaped the mud. With grace only seen in a parent caring for a child, he placed the pacifier into the bag, safe with the last of his money. Then, swinging his bag on his back again, he looked back to the slope... ...And refused to climb again. He quickly found a small stone and picked it up. With all his might, with all his effort, he imagined throwing the stone as far as he could, as hard as he could, over the hill. Then, closing his eyes, he dropped the stone. The storm of potential blew inside him again. It was much less this time, more of a strong gust of wind really. But it was enough, and with one great push, he leapt over the hill in a single bound. Well, just over half the hill. He only just passed the summit, before hitting mud, and falling on his bottom with a splat. Underneath him, the poopy diaper squished and pushed a little of his mess out of its confines. He felt the damp of fresh pee as he had another accident, a consequence of the magic. He slid down the other side of the hill, and landed at the bottom with a small splat, feet first. Fost was breathing heavily again. Even using basic Dymatagy usually took a lot out of him. He was muddy, tired, and now in dire need of a change. But, looking up, he saw what he had come for. Perched on a small island in the middle of this gods-forsaken flat, was a little village. Smoke puffed gently from a couple of chimneys, and small wattle and daub cottages stood proudly above the mud. So, brushing off as much of it as he could, he waddled towards the small settlement, trying to ignore his very full pants, and the pee dribbling down his leg. LARIA “Do you think they’ll be back?” Laria asked. She was sat on a porcelain potty, pull-up at her feet. The blacksmith wasn’t that busy at the moment, it rarely was these days. Her business partner, Krisp, slouched behind the wooden counter, where normally the bearded man stood proud. He had just been staring aimlessly at the door for about ten minutes now and, if she was honest, Laria was starting to get a little bit worried. “K?” she asked the man, stretching her head round. He didn’t answer. “Krisp!” she said loudly, and the man jumped slightly. “Sorry,” he said in that deep baritone of his. It always calmed her to hear his voice, it sounded like waves crashing along the beach. The man, normally red-faced, had somehow managed to go an even deeper shade of scarlet, “I’m fine, I was just--” “Dude, it’s fine.” Laria said, sighing, “I know what you were thinking.” There was a moment of reflective silence between them. The shop was always empty. Except for them. Laria almost thought Krisp would fade back into his daydream, but before long he spoke up again. “You making progress?” he asked, looking over to where Laria was perched on the potty, just next to the counter. “No, false alarm I think.” she said. “You’ll get the hang of it. Should have seen me trying a few years back, it was a nightmare. Pee went everywhere.” Krisp said, clearly trying to make Laria laugh. It didn’t really work. She looked down longingly. All this was so hard. Although most people on the Dullen Isles wore pull-ups well into their second decade, they were expected to be fully potty-trained within ten or so years of coming of age at 20. Most were trained years before that. At 28, Laria was starting to get worried. All her friends in Trully, her village, were completely out of their pull-ups. Although, Mossa, from down the road, still wore them for the occasional accident. Laria on the other hand, still used the underwear as her primary method of going to the toilet. To make matters worse, she had to admit that she actually enjoyed doing it sometimes. Not only were they convenient during long days at the forge, where one hardly had the time for potty breaks, but it also felt good to let loose where you stood, to feel the warmth growing around the pseudo-diaper. In Luin, the southern kingdom that ruled over Dullen, they used their diapers without a care in the world. People around here weren't usually friendly to southern visitors, but Laria found herself remarkably jealous of them instead. Although there were new, mandatory changing spaces in every shop, just as there was a potty, Laria would always be treated with an air of suspicion if she took up that lifestyle. Even more since Dullen was now a vassal of the more powerful kingdom, and resentment was skyrocketing. Mind you, they’d always be better than those barbarian pants-wetters in the West -- people who soiled their pants with no protection, no discretion. No matter what, Luin and Dullen would always unite against their wrath, even as reluctant allies. Eventually, Laria gave up trying to go pee in the potty, resigned to the fact that she would probably end up messing her pull-up later anyway. She raised herself off the potty, grabbed her pull-up and tugged on her trousers over the top. The potty, as always, stayed where it was beside the counter, in case a visitor needed it. Then, she moved to the back of the shop to where the fun stuff happened. The forge. “You didn’t answer my question.” Laria said to Krisp as she left him at the counter. The smithy itself was quite bare on the inside, with a few cabinets scattered about the front room displaying swords, knives, and other sharp objects. The bigger ones -- halberds and the like -- sat comfortably on the wall. Behind the counter was a door that led to the smithy itself, where most of the work was done. “I didn’t hear your question.” Krisp answered loudly, shouting across the smithy floor. “Liar!” she shouted amusedly back, moving into the smithy proper. “I don’t know what you mean!” Krisp said. Laria smiled, hearing the grin in his voice. Thick wafts of woodchip smoke from the fire, and a perpetual heat, hit Laria as she entered the forge. The back of the shop was much larger, messier and all around a much more interesting place to work. Beside a small wooden stool, a few swords were lined up, ready for polishing and then, hopefully, sale. Laria liked it back here. She liked the energy of the place, heated by the fire, always crackling; she enjoyed creating, crafting, and making something from something else; and she loved the feeling it gave her while doing it, almost like she was a sorcerer, doing magical things that no one else could. In a way, that was true. That’s what made potty breaks even more gruelling. The damned thing tore her away from her work, her beautiful work. It was the same feeling of uselessness she felt while on the counter, just waiting for customers that didn’t exist. So, Laria sat down on the small wooden bench, her pull-up padding her bottom on the hard wood, and got to work. While she rubbed oil along the slender blade of a newly forged longsword, she looked towards the door. Boy, Krisp really doesn’t want to answer that question she thought, smiling to herself. “Krisp, are you going to answer or not?” “Do you really want an answer?” he asked. It was a tough topic to talk about in his defence, but they needed to be prepared, and this was the beginning of that laborious process. “Yes, I want your opinion. Do you really think they’ll be back?” Although Laria was looking at the sword, careful of where her hands were, she was sure to keep her ears towards the door. It would be nice to just focus on the sword, but she knew she couldn’t until the question was answered. She was beginning to feel a little full ‘down there’ again as well, now that her pee-fright had gone. But before Laria could put much thought into it, Krisp spoke up again. “Honestly ... yes.” he said sullenly “I think they’ll--” He switched his voice abruptly, the slightly worn baritone sparking into a lighter greeting. “Welcome! How can I…” Krisps greeting petered out, and all Laria could hear were mumbles from the door. A customer! Finally, something was going up in this godsforsaken town. She went back to her work, only to be called out again a few moments later. “L, grab that Caerson arming sword we made a few months back.” Laria frowned and got reluctantly up. She moved towards a rack where she and Krisp kept the finished weapons, and grabbed the small arming sword. Then, she carefully made her way out front, to see what all of this was about. They never got visitors, especially ones asking for something so expensive. If she was to be distracted from her work, at least it was for a sale. The customer stood on the opposite side of the counter, chatting idly to Krisp as they waited. He was a young man, dwarfed by gargantuan Krisp, but taller than Laria. He leant on the counter, messy blonde hair straggled across his face. It was curly, unruly stuff, splattered with mud. In fact, now that Laria looked, the man was covered head to toe in the stuff. Clearly a Little from the onesie and multicoloured polka-dot cloak, the man looked rather unhappy in his current state. “Here you go sir.” she said, passing the sword to the man. He took it, looking somewhat unsure, and then looked it up and down. Only as she stood there for a moment, watching the customer, did Laria notice the smell. It was that all too familiar stench of a messy diaper, a very messy diaper. Now she looked, the loaded thing bulked between his legs, forcing them slightly apart. Although it was probably rude to stare, Laria couldn’t take her eyes off the thing. What does it feel like? To have so much weight down there? In fact, she only stopped staring when Krisp nudged her, and she snapped sharply out of her daydream. Rather luckily, the customer was still inspecting the sword. It was quite funny watching him. The poor fellow clearly didn’t know what he was looking for, either that or he was distracted. Maybe it was the diaper… “My partner here can give you a run-down if you’d like a good sir?” Krisp said, putting the man out of his misery. “Yes,” the customer answered, sounding relieved, “That would be great.” and he handed the sword to Laria. As she smiled, taking the blade from the customer, she couldn’t help notice that her bladder seemed considerably fuller than it had before. Oh well, can’t stop now, she thought, besides, I’ll probably just freeze back up if I try the potty again. Laria balanced the sword on the tips of her fingers, showing the customer where the blade’s centre of gravity was. She looked towards the man, who proceeded to nod gently. Then, moving with the grace of the wind, she threw the sword in the air, and caught it by the hilt. Krisp chuckled, seeing the customer waddle back slightly in surprise. She swung the sword around a little, getting a feel for it. “Arming swords are usually side-arms.” she said, slicing through the air. This felt good, a blade in her arms. It had been so long since they’d had any customers, she’d almost forgotten how freeing it felt to wield a sword rather than craft one. I’ll have to take this up again! “Did you want one this size?” she said calmly, hiding the energy, the potential, deep inside her chest. “Yes. Something easy to travel with, light and agile. I... I used to have a similar weapon in the army.” the customer said, the last bit subdued somewhat. He glanced to the ground as he said it. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? Surely he should know how to wield a sword if that were the case? Laria thought it best not to press him. She stopped her routine, and gently handed back the sword. He took it. “This should suit your needs quite well then.” said Laria. She glanced down at the man’s full diaper for a moment, but when she raised her eyes, she caught the customer’s gaze. His pale skin went suddenly red. It was almost as if he hadn’t even realised his diaper was that full until now, and was suddenly self-conscious. How couldn’t you realise when you’d messed yourself? Laria thought back to all the times she’d had an accident, and the bulge that stuck out of her pants. She remembered the earthy smell, the way it forced you to waddle along. Were Littles that oblivious? Krisp interrupted her train of thought, as per. “Is there anything else we can do for you?” he asked. For a moment, Laria didn’t know if it were possible for the man to blush more, but somehow he managed. “You … errr… you don’t know where I could change around here? I have my own supplies...” Krisp giggled slightly, but thankfully it seemed the man had gone as red as he could go. Now it was Laria’s turn to interrupt Krisp. “Yes, of course. This way Sir …” “Fost. Just, Fost.” “Okay Master Fost, this way please.” and she led him to the changing room out the back. FOST “Just back here.” the woman who ran the blacksmiths said. Fost waddled behind her as best he could, trying not to leak over their floor. Although he could handle the odd wet, or even messy, diaper, it had been two days now. He needed this so badly. It was clammy around his legs, the mess was dry and peeling, clinging to his skin like a crustacean. He followed the woman through the back of the shop and into the forge. A hazy fog of fire-smoke floated through the air ahead. “Through there,” the woman said, pointing at a door to Fost’s side. “Just go ahead and get started.” the woman continued, walking toward the forge’s fire, “I’ll just heat some water for you.” She didn’t bring her head up as she spoke, focusing intently on the fire and water instead. Fost nodded, though the woman didn’t see, and waddled into the small side-room. It was pretty standard as far as changing rooms went, though compared to the rest of the shop, it looked relatively new. The wooden walls were cleaner than the rest of the smithy, and a newly clay-tiled floor lay comfortably under a wooden table. It was the length of a man, and a leather cushion lay at the other end. It all looked barely used. Climbing onto the table was a little bit of a struggle. Fost didn’t particularly want to leak, these people were doing him a courtesy after all, and getting excrement everywhere would be extremely disrespectful. That was perhaps the one thing this strange place and his own homeland had in common -- it was always, always, impolite to make a mess when making messies. Of course it happened occasionally, accidentally. But only those barbarians in the south would be so disgusting as to do so deliberately. When Fost managed to get onto the table, he lay down, getting comfortable. Then, with practiced hands, he unbuttoned his onesie, and tore off the tapes of his diaper, which now rested on his upper waist. Presently, the woman entered with the water. Steam drifted off the surface, gently curling and swaying in the light breeze of the closing door. The woman placed the bowl down onto the tiles below, along with some small towels she carried. She drew another bucket out from under the table, and placed it at her feet. Then suddenly, she wrinkled her nose, apparently hit by the stinky onslaught of smells for the first time, especially now that the Diaper was open. Fost felt his face go hot, flushing. “I’m so sorry Miss.” he said out of sheer embarrassment. Normally in Luin, whenever changes happened, it wasn’t seen as a big deal. Everyone was used to it, and it was even enjoyable. Mommies and Daddies made their Little feel at ease, treating it, rightly so, as something that was perfectly natural. Clearly, here in the Dullen Isles, people weren’t so used to hiding their reactions. The woman seemed to blush a little as well. “It’s fine Sir … sorry I forgot your name.” “Fost.” he said, thankful for the change of subject. He relaxed a little at that. “I’m Laria,” the woman said. Laria. She was slightly shorter than Fost, though the height of the table seemed almost perfect for her. Dark skin glistening with the sweat of the forge, Laria wiped her forehead. She moved her already rolled sleeves up her arm a little, and bent down to soak one of the rags in the warm water. Then, she got back up, brushed some of her black, curling hair out of the way, and opened the front of the diaper. Even by Little standards, Fost had to admit it was horrid. In fact, he was surprised he hadn’t had a blowout, especially considering the dirty thing had been leaking for a good hour now. Lara scrunched up her nose again, and this time even Fost was forced to follow suit. “I am so sorry.” he said, his ears, cheeks, and neck burning in shame. “No no!” Laria said, somewhat less calmly than he was hoping to hear, “It happens to everyone.” Not around here though, thought Fost shamefully. She began to wipe him down, taking the wet cloth and squeezing the dirty water into the empty bucket. It felt amazing. After all he had been through over the past few days, to have the icky mess finally coming off him was utterly blissful. He felt light down there, clean, and fresh. He felt like the steam rising from hot water. He felt like the cool currents of the ocean. He felt like a gust of wind in the sky. Fost enjoyed this transcendent experience for a few moments, enjoying the peace, enjoying the silence. He looked to Laria, she was completely consumed in the work, focused and stone-eyed. It was an admirable trait, the likes of which Fost hadn’t seen in a very long time. Although she looked a little uncomfortable, maybe even slightly distracted at times, she continued working diligently. Only for a moment did she break her glance -- catching Fost in the act of looking, then swiftly returning to her task. Fost looked down quickly, not keen to make an awkward situation of it. “So,” Laria said eventually, still intent on her work, “What brings you so far north?” She said it almost absent-mindedly, but there was a quiet chorus of intrigue that rose from behind. Should he tell the truth? Should he say why he was here? He couldn’t see it causing much harm. It was just a book after-all. Besides, he concluded, maybe she can help. “Oh, I’m looking for a book.” said Fost, trying not to make a big deal out of it. “For a client down south.” “Oh Really? What does it look like? Maybe I can point you the right way.” Laria asked. Fost took a moment to answer. Not because he didn’t want to tell her, but rather because he didn’t know what to tell her. He couldn’t recall the woman mentioning what it looked like, other than it’s contents and… “It has a symbol on the front, I think. A sword on a shield, engraved into the cover.” he said, satisfied at the little victory over his memory. Laria, who was in the middle of her final wipes, stopped suddenly. She seemed to squint slightly, as if trying to remember something. Then, shaking her head, she went back to work. “Sorry, I can’t remember seeing anything like that.” she said. Eventually, she finished cleaning Fost down, his sparkly clean bare bottom on the cold table. Laria shuffled through Fost’s bag and found a clean diaper from the stash he left Bermont with, they were well stocked in the Capital. “Okay, bottom up.” Laria said, hoisting Fost’s legs upwards and laying out the white padding underneath. Fost noticed something different about her now. Whilst she was still focused on the task at hand, it was becoming clearer and clearer that she was struggling to maintain composure. The blacksmith was starting to wiggle a little, moving from side to side, almost as if… “You okay?” Fost asked as Laria did the tapes of his diaper up. “Yeah, I’m … I’m fine.” she said unconvincingly. Fost had seen that struggle before. It was common in these parts, where people weren’t so relaxed about just going in their diaper -- Laria was doing a pee-pee dance. “If you need to go, you should just go.” he said, as calmly as possible. “You do wear some sort of protection around here don’t you?” Laria looked up, seeming somewhat startled. Then, she nodded quickly. “Well I - ahhh - I should really be going in the potty.” She was really moving now that she didn’t have to hide it, blushing slightly as she gave into the full pee-pee dance. With a hand pressed between her legs, Laria wiggled up and down, stepping quickly from foot to foot. She was starting to go even redder too, though Fost didn’t know if it was from the strain or embarrassment. He should do something. Help somehow. “Would you like me to go and get the potty for y-” “No!” She almost shouted, before Fost could finish asking. “No, it’s … it’s fine…” Laria’s struggle seemed to hit a limit, and suddenly she stopped. “It’s fine, ahhhhhh.” as she spoke, her legs seemed to go weak, and a relieved smile crept onto her face. Fost couldn’t help but smile amusedly as well. She lent slightly forward, breathing heavily, for about two minutes, completely in her own world. Silence filled the room, so much so that Fost could hear the gentle trickle of a quickly filling pull-up. “You … err … you done?” he asked. Laria, clearly remembering she wasn’t alone, snapped her head up and shot up straight. “Heh, erm, sorry about that.” she said, blushing slightly. Fost had to suppress a giggle. It was strange to hear someone apologise for something that happened all the time in the south. “It’s fine, I’m used to it.” he said. Laria looked down to inspect the damage, and her long hair fell in front of her face. “Would you like a change or…?” Fost trailed off, watching Laria to see what she’d say. “Um…” “Oh, sorry, is that not … do you not do that here? In the south we generally swap and stuff but --” Fost spoke quickly, muttering that last bit. Laria interjected before he had a chance to finish. “No, we … we do that here too, for those of us who are still… y’know.” she said. “Oh, cool … that wasn’t … I’m sorry if it was out of line …” “Not at all!” she said, moving her head quickly up, and stepping forward slightly. “It’s fine, I would have asked the same thing.” “Okay, sorry if I …” “No, you don’t need to say sorry …” “Did you … did you errr … you still want me too-” “Yes!” she said quickly, a smile flickering on her face, “Errr, yes … yes please.” Fost’s face was scorching with embarrassment, and it was clear Laria was as well. Fost jumped down and went to find the supplies that Laria kept around, while she jumped onto the table. Then, soaking some clean rags, Fost got to work. Changing a pull-up was much the same as changing a diaper, though the garment was considerably less bulky. Laria had completely soaked through hers, and Fost was, for the second time today, surprised no-one leaked. “Y’know,” he said, taking the heavy pull-up and placing it beside the waste bucket, “You’d make a good Little with how much you soaked this thing.” “And you’d make a good Islander with that quick potty suggestion earlier!” Laria said, eliciting an embarrassed chuckle from Fost. Now that things were a little more comfortable, Laria seemed to open up a bit, and as Fost wiped her down, they talked a little about weapons. “You won’t find many larger ones around here,” Laria said, “They’re bought up quickly and used for war. At steep discounts too…” “I guessed as much, that’s the way things have always been in Luin. Always at war, always ‘acquiring’ weapons. Most non-army folk don’t get a word in.” “Yeah. Although, if you don’t mind me asking, you’re only looking for a book. Why do you need a sword?” Laria asked as Fost did the tapes of her pull-up. “Better safe than sorry, right? Bandits and all sorts on the road.” “Not around here. That’s one of the few good bits about --” DONG. DONG. DONG. A large bell rang through the village outside. Laria snapped up. “Oh no.” she said, and walked out of the room without bothering to put on her pants. Fost watched her go, slightly confused for a moment, and then decided that it would be best to follow her. What in the name of the gods is happening now? He cursed silently. Outside, people were gathering around a bell that stood in the middle of the village. Like Laria, a few of the younger folk were out here with their pull-ups on full show. Fost started to worry a little. This couldn’t be good whatever it was, and he was in a foreign town with foreign people. All around, people in the crowd glared at him. He pushed through the crowd and eventually found Laria, standing at the front. “Laria,” he asked, “what’s going on?” but he didn’t have to wait for an answer. Opposite the small crowd was a group of soldiers on horseback. Like Fost, they all wore bright cloaks, onesies, and each had a distinct diaper-bulge. There were at least thirty of them at the back, all wearing similar clothes to Fost, though with added armour plates here-and-there. Three of the newcomers stood proud and tall at the front. The one in the centre sucked on a pacifier haughtily, looking so utterly regal that he probably thought he shat gold. On his right was a woman, thin faced, and paler than ice. On his left was a man, hooded -- a cloak of deep twilight-blue. Fost felt something strange, like the gears of possibility shifted within him. But then something else caught his eye. Strapped to the hooded man’s waist was a book. A book with a shield and sword engraved on the front. END OF EPISODE 1
  15. Chapter 1: With her lips pressed against the glass bottle, she took a large gulp. Emma didn’t know what she was drinking but only that it made her feel good. It made her feel numb. Her throat burned but she continued to drink, wanting to forget everything. Everyone. The room spun around and around and little twinkly lights sparkled in her eyes. The girl was aware that she was dead drunk. She was also aware that her best friend, Hannah was slumped over against Jack, more drunk than she. They’d broken up just yesterday. It was an ugly, sad fight that had not ended on the right note. But she had not expected him to move on so quickly. Not with Hannah. Never with her self declared sister. Emma giggled so hard that tears formed in her eyes and the bottle slipped from her hand, crashing into a million pieces, but nobody seemed to notice. Nobody ever noticed. Shouts sounded from the back porch. A game of beer pong was being played and In the kitchen, people mixed different drinks together, creating a cocktail of god-knows-what. But Emma stood in the living room. She hissed as the glass shards cut into her bare feet. The slight pain soon became overwhelming as the music pounded in her ears, sending a pulsing beat all the way to her soul. Her body swayed back and forth among the crowd of people. Now, she wasn’t usually into frat parties but was known to let loose every once in a while; and if she was desperate enough then would drink. She glared at the two of them as they sucked each other's faces and his hands groped her body. Emma had given Hannah the dress to borrow. It had never been a favorite of hers because it was too sparkly and tight. But it was exactly her friend’s style. Emma didn’t want it back now. She’d rather burn the damn outfit. Her feet moved on their own accord until she found herself outside, standing in the front yard. The grass was littered with red solo cups and over a dozen cars were parked in the driveway. She sat down and laid back, staring up at the starless night sky. “Emma?” Her head turned to the right. It was Julie Watkins. They were friends… kind of. “What’s wrong?” her eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re crying.” Was she? Her hand hovered below her blue eyes and fingertips were wet. She was. Julie sat down beside her. She was a nice girl. Her thick curly brown hair was pulled back into a long braid that snaked down her back. Her face was narrow, skin pale, and nose long and pointy. “I like your outfit.” Emma sloppily smiled. It was just a graphic t-shirt and denim skirt. Julie laughed. “I like your outfit as well.” Julie was nice. Everyone liked Julie, it was hard not to. Emma wore a plain black halter top and skinny jeans. She wasn’t quite sure where her shoes had gone. “Do you want to tell me why you’re out here crying?” the girl tried again. Emma shrugged. “Did you see Hannah and Jack?” “They’re drunk. I’m sure by tomorrow they won’t remember any of this.” Julie was too kind. How come she couldn’t be her best friend? “My parents are also getting divorced!” she blurted before she could stop herself. Her kind-of-friend was very understanding but Hannah had never been. Fuck Hannah Flynn. Fretfully, she tugged at a wavy lock of her auburn hair and Julie rubbed her back in soothing circles. She was crying again. “Do you want a ride back to your dorm? I haven’t drank anything.” Again, she shrugged, very indecisive at the moment. The whole reason she had come to college was to escape her parents who couldn’t manage to go a day without fighting. Emma thought it would be better being all the way across the country. The University of Seattle was an amazing school. “Let’s go,” said Julie as she stood up. “Do you know where your shoes are?” “No.” The girl sighed. “That’s alright. My car is just around the corner.” Clumsily she pushed herself up, leaning against Julie who was five feet and five inches tall. Emma was only five feet and two inches. She felt short in comparison. “I know what it feels like.” whispered Julie. “My parents divorced when I was eight. I’m not gonna lie, it’s not fun. But everything gets better in time. Just remember that.” The words passed right through her. Emma wasn’t sure what she’d remember by tomorrow. ooOoo She’d spent the past hour of the morning puking in the bathroom and after four ibuprofens for her pounding headache, still felt like shit. Her skin was pale, more so than usual, and clammy. The stuffy hot office only made it worse. The nineteen year old girl sat cross legged on the lumpy brown couch. Last night was a blur but she remembered them vividly making out on the couch. Hannah never came back to the dorm. It wasn’t hard to guess where she was. “Emmaline, can you answer me?” She looked up suddenly. Her counselor, Ms. Newman pursed her lips and shook her head. Her brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun and glasses sat on the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry?” “Are you aware that you’re failing several of your classes? You got into this school on an academic scholarship and your grades right now are less than exemplary. You don’t want to be kicked out, do you?” Did she? Emma really couldn’t answer. “I-I’m going through stuff. I’m sorry but right now isn’t really the best time for… anything.” she tried to explain herself, truly she did. “We were understanding in the beginning but there comes a time when you need to pick yourself up.” Ms. Newman sighed. “You can’t continue this way. Many of your professors have expressed the same concerns.” There was no hiding that she was hung over. “Emma, there are people who want to help you. You’re only a freshman and have so much to look forward to. I understand your parents divorce has hit you hard but it helps to talk to others sometimes. You don’t have to struggle with this alone.” Sharing her feelings with strangers was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d rather jump in front of a train. “I’m going to give you the name of a therapist. She’s free and I’ve sent many students to her before. Trust me, they’re completely new people after they're done with her.” Emma could tell that it wasn’t really a choice and took the piece of paper reluctantly. This woman could spout whatever nonsense she wanted but nothing would change. Her life sucked and would always be that way. Afterward, she went back to her dorm, prepared to take another nap but stopped short. “I’m so sorry!” Hannah exclaimed upon seeing her. Mascara ran down her face and a dark tightly coiled curl stuck to her wet cheek. “I-I was drunk and wasn’t thinking straight and it just sorta happened!” Maybe if she had been thinking rationally, she would’ve been more understanding but at the moment she wanted to strangle the curl and watch as her dark skin lost color. “Fuck you, Han.” her voice was cold. “Of course you went after Jack McCroy! He’s mine-” “You broke up… again! For like the hundredth time!” her voice rose an octave. “I’m sorry that I made a mistake but don’t get angry at me. It’s not my fault that you’ve got a shitty life!” Hannah knew that she had hit her where it hurt. “Em… I- I didn’t mean tha-” “Get out.” Her hands formed into a fist at her side, knuckles white. “Get the fuck out!” She didn't need to ask again. ooOoo Her major was political science. Ever since she was a little girl, Emmaline Rodgers had dreams of becoming the first female president of the United States. However, as she grew older those dreams were quickly squashed as she realized what a misogynistic world she lived in. Now, she just hoped to be something. Anything other than a college drop out. Before, Emma thought she didn’t care but now took it back. The girl didn’t work so hard throughout high school and leave home only to end up right back there. She was determined to succeed. To do better than her miserable parents who they themselves never completed college. Her mother worked the farm and her father owned the local corner store. They didn’t make a ton of money but it was enough to survive off of the necessities. Townsford, Connecticut was a town of about one thousand. It was more a rural farming community with one stoplight in the entire county. Everyone knew everyone and it was not a good place to stand out. That’s why she had always hated her vibrant red hair. She got it from her father. Emma had always considered herself kind of a shy girl. Never straying far away from what she knew but there was a desire that burned inside her to escape the deadbeat town which is exactly what she did. The girl was doing more than her parents ever did but it wasn’t enough. That’s why a week later she met Marina Tischner. The woman was kind and almost had a motherly feel to her. She had straight blonde hair and a heart shaped face. She was dressed casually in a blue turtleneck, dark jeans and boots. The room was small but comfortable. The walls were painted a mustard yellow and there was one small window which was the only light in the room. In front of her was a coffee table and a chair on the other side. An icy glass of water and a bowl of mints were situated in front of her. She was surprisingly easy to talk to, something Emma had sworn she would never do. Everything came pouring out of her mouth at rapid speed: Hannah and Jack. Her parents. Hopes and dreams. The only sound she heard was the sound of the pencil tip against the paper as Dr. Tischner took down notes. “Are you happy with your life right now?” “Honestly?” her voice shook. “No. Sometimes I wish I could go far away and be a different person, live a second life. Don’t get me wrong, I want to try. I don’t want to give up but I’m just so tired of everything.” “It’s normal to feel that way. Everyone does at some point.” She supposed the woman was right but Emma just felt so alone. There was no one to save her. “Why don’t you have a sip of the water.” Dr. Tischner nodded toward the glass. “We’ve been talking for a while.” ooOoo Emma’s eyes blinked open but quickly shut, the bright light caught her by surprise. She tried again, this time more slowly and hesitant. Something wasn’t right. A headache thundered at the front of her head and vision blurred around the edges. She felt dead, unable to feel her body, everything was numb. “Mmmhph!” she tried to talk but it came out in a grumbled mess. There was something in her mouth that she couldn’t spit out. The girl was so tired. Her eyes began to flutter as different colors floated in front of her. “No, no Emmy.” a woman stood above her. “Nap time is over, you can go night-night later.” Nap time? Night-night? What the hell was going on? “You’re a silly girl. Just suck on your paci, there’s no need for tears.” Was she crying? The woman tapped the object lodged in her mouth. Without really thinking about it, Emma did as she said. It felt like she had been hit by a truck. Nothing made any sense. “Nurse Janie just has to change your diapee and then you can have some nummies.” Her blue eyes narrowed and brows furrowed together. Something really wasn’t right. Her heart raced against her chest and a high whine escaped her throat. The woman picked her up with ease and automatically her legs wrapped around her waist and head rested on her shoulder. The young girl suddenly stiffened, hearing a crinkle as the woman… patted her butt? “Don’t worry sweetie.” she cooed. “You’re just a little wet but it’s nothing I can’t take care of.” There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as her mind caught up with the lady’s words and realized what the feeling was between her legs. She was wearing a fucking diaper. “Nnn-nuhnuh!” she tried to speak but could only string together a few words. Her body shook and the woman just patted her back. Looking around the room it was empty, save for a bunch of oversized… cages? No. Cribs.There was a rocking chair positioned in each corner of the room and walls were painted a light pink. A rainbow, clouds, and a smiling sun were painted on the wall. It reminded her of her childhood doctor’s office. Except she wasn’t a child. She was nineteen years old. “Keep sucking your paci,” her voice remained calm. “We’re just going to get your little tush changed.” Breath. One, two, three, four… she began to count in her mind. Five, six, seven, eight… don’t think about what she’s doing. Don’t think about how she just strapped you to a fucking changing table that’s way to big for an actual baby. Tears burned in her eyes and a few trickled down her cheeks. She flinched at the touch of the wet wipe against her… her private area. No one but her had ever touched down there before. Her heart pounded in her ears and began to struggle against the straps that restrained her ankles and wrists. She was completely nakad. Oh dear god. Emma screamed, terrified of what was going to happen. The woman swatted her thigh and made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Is little Emmy having bad thoughts?” “Effmfa!” her voice grumbled as she tried to correct the woman. Her name was Emma. Emmy was a baby name. “Oh Emmy, your head is just filled with bad big girl thoughts.” she ignored her protest. “I’m just getting you changed into your pullup and pretty dress. Your diapees are just for night time.” That wasn’t what she was upset about, at least not in that sense. Emma had to communicate with her that there had been some sort of mistake. She wasn’t meant to be here. The young girl kicked her legs as hard as she could, straining against the restraints. The woman clicked her tongue and blue eyes narrowed. “You’ve been such a good girl the past few days. Perhaps you're just hungry, it is time for your nummies after all.” Emma almost laughed in disbelief. Nummies? How old did she think she was? Five? And what did she mean by the past few days? Emma could only remember the beginning of the meeting with Dr. Tischner. The woman bent down, opening a drawer and pulled out a thick pullup. Her cheeks pinkened as Emma wailed from behind the rubber object, unable to escape. “Oh, you’ll get nummies soon. I know how much you like nursie’s milk. Relax and suck on your paci.” But she couldn’t relax because a sudden storm raged at the front of her mind- a lightning strike, a clap of thunder. Her eyes blinked rapidly, persisting through the pain, trying to remember. But her mind was blank. How had she ended up here? ooOoo A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read, I really appreciate it! I’ve already started writing the second chapter and it should be uploaded soon!
  16. Disclaimer: There will be some difficult subjects such as violence, brief mention of drugs/alcohol and also some strong language used. A/N: Hello everyone! This will be the last part of Willa's series but I do plan to continue telling the other character's stories! Just to make something clear, the story is starting two years before Willa goes to Henderson and will be told from the perspective of her brother and her. However with the first chapter, it's going through the years showing the events that shaped her childhood and lead her to all the problems she had before she went to Henderson. I hope you enjoy! ooOoo Chapter 1: Ten Years Ago She wet herself. That was the first thing she noticed. She hadn’t wet herself since she was about five years old. She was ten now. Ten year olds did not pee in their beds. The doctors said she was in shock. They said that it was completely normal but watching your parents be murdered was not normal. Nothing about the situation was normal. She remembered her parents were in the living room watching a movie when they broke in. The living room was right next to the front door and they should’ve heard the door open but for some reason they didn’t. Upstairs, she was supposed to be asleep but she’d just gotten a new ipad (they wouldn’t get her a phone) and could finally text her friends and a cute boy had asked for her number so she was waiting up for him. But if he did text, she never saw. It had already begun. She first heard her father shout. Her dad was a calm person. Always mellow, not one to get easily triggered. Standing at six feet, he was a big guy and most people found him intimidating upon the first meeting but their fear always quickly disappeared. Willa remembered jumping out of bed and racing into the hall with the tablet in hand. Standing at the top of the stairs, just out of view, she peeked around the corner. Her dad’s hands were up. There were two men. They shot him first and he fell to the ground. Next was her mother, she didn’t stand a chance. The men rushed from the house out the open door. It had been less than five minutes. Less than five minutes and her parents were dead. Less than five minutes and her entire life had changed. That’s what she told the police officers when they spoke to her at the hospital. She didn’t feel sad. She didn’t really feel anything, the words just poured from her mouth. Willa squeezed her hands into fists and out. In and out. They were dry, clean. The blood had been washed away. She leaned back against the pillow, slightly shivering, The paper hospital gown was not warm at all. She sat stiff straight, her heart pounded against her chest. The sound of blood rushed through her ears. That’s when she felt the wetness between her legs. The police continued to ask her questions and she continued to pee. The officers realized what had happened. No more questions were asked. ooOoo Six Years Ago It was what every fourteen year old girl dreamed of. Their first date. She squealed… yes, squealed when Andre asked her to be his date to the eighth grade dance. Out of all the girls in the school, he asked her. Mister Popular wanted to go out with well… not so Miss Popular. She was what you’d call a wallflower. Sitting at the back of class, her hand raised yet no one saw. Pressed against the wall, someone bumped into her and her books fell to the ground. Yet no one seemed to notice. If she disappeared, no one would know. She was unmemorable. Plain. Ordinary. So why would Andrew Crawford ask her to semi? It didn’t make sense. She had a bad feeling about it but still said yes. She wanted to hope that the feeling was wrong. She had wanted to feel pretty for once. But now she hid behind the school, sucking on the tip of her thumb as mascara streamed down her face mixed in with salty tears. She slid down the wall to the ground, her chest heaved up and down. Never again, she promised herself. Never again, would she say yes to a boy. She was a fool to think Andre Crawford actually liked her. He’d stood her up, arriving with Shelby Hennings instead. Everyone was in on it. The invisible girl getting asked by the pretty boy. Now that was a comical sight. It was all a bet to see if she’d actually say yes. They called her a baby for crying and maybe she was. Why else would she be sucking on her thumb? Boys sucked. Middle school sucked. Her entire life sucked. She’d even straightened her thick curly black hair for tonight and went shopping at the cute new boutique downtown. She hadn't been dress shopping since her mother died and so she picked out what the shop owner suggested. It was a mustard yellow knee length dress. The color went best with her caramel skin and she’d gotten matching pumps. She spent her entire monthly allowance on that night. It was supposed to be magical. It signified a start of a brand new life. A better one than she was living right now. Living with her uncle was fine was fine. He left her mostly alone and she managed alright and her brother Adrian attended Washington State University and was only home on the holidays. Should she call her uncle to pick her up? No. That was too embarrassing. She’d have to walk home. The likelihood of getting kidnapped was high but it was better than facing the truth of her uncle’s words. “He’s using you.” he had said just a few hours ago but she hadn't believe him. Now, she sat on the ground, outside the school, sucking her thumb and painfully alone. Her mother would’ve known what to do. She knew everything. ooOoo Two years ago “Y-you’re kicking me out?” she stammered. It had only been two days since she graduated high school. Two fucking days. Her uncle had already cleaned all her stuff out of his apartment. They sat in trash bags by the front door. It’s not like she was surprised. He had never wanted her or her brother in the first place. He fed them when needed. Spoke to them when needed but other than that left them alone. She doesn’t even think that he noticed when her brother moved out. “You’re eighteen years old. You have a job and are going to college in a few months. I’m sure you can figure something out, Willow-” “My name is Willa!” she snapped. “And if you had paid attention or even bothered to show up to my graduation then you’d know that I didn’t apply to schools and I was fired from the restaurant.” He scoffed, rolling his brown eyes and ran his hand through his grey hair. He had a beer belly and always seemed to wear the same grease stained shirt and pants. The apartment reeked of stale beer and left over pizza. She was desperate to get out of there but not now. Not like this. “Well, tough luck. I’m fucking broke and if you stay, we’ll both have no place to live. Besides, I've dealt with your strangeness for long enough.” She went silent. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “You didn’t think I knew about your little diaper obsession? Why the fuck would a grown adult hide diapers in their drawer, hmm?” Her lips wobbled. She’d kept them securely hidden away where no one would find them but of course he’d go through her room. He was a cruel man. If he wasn’t drinking then he was doing drugs. There was a reason her parents kept her and her brother away from him growing up. And besides, they weren’t diapers. They were pull ups. She… she still peed in her pants at night. That problem had never been fixed but had managed to keep it a secret the past eight years. Besides, It was simply just a precaution. It’s not like she wore them outside her room. “Call a friend or something or your brother. Andrew, yeah. Andrew will take you in. Just don’t come back here.” Adrian! Her mind hissed. His name was Adrian. Her older brother by five years. Her protector who hadn’t been around lately. Her everything. He’d take her in. He had to. She had no friends because she wouldn’t let herself get close to others. The semi formal still played in her mind every day as a reminder not to trust anyone. Now, she couldn’t even trust her uncle. “Fuck you!” she spat as she dragged the two black bags out the door. She made it halfway down the street and around the corner before she allowed herself to break down. It was as if she had been hit by a moving train and the pain didn’t start to sink in until later. She was freakin homeless. At eighteen years old. No matter how much she wanted to go to her brother, she couldn’t. He and his girlfriend lived together and he had just gotten some new fancy job with the state department that was top secret. He literally couldn’t tell anyone about it and they’d gifted him with a brand new apartment and car in the upscale neighborhood. She didn’t want to go and get in his way because wherever she went, trouble followed. But it wouldn’t hurt to stay at a homeless shelter for a few days, would it? She’d have a place to sleep at least for tonight and then tomorrow she’d figure else something out. ooOoo “I’m sorry but we’re at capacity.” Those words were starting to sound like a broken record. It was her third shelter she’d been turned away from. Perhaps, she could beg her uncle to take her back. At least there, she had some warmth and a roof over her head. She refused to stay on the streets. “Are you ok?” Her head shot up. A tall blonde woman was talking to her, a well dressed one at that. She didn’t belong in this neighborhood that much was obvious. Sketchy people lived here. Poor people lived here. “I don’t mean to intrude but you’ve seemed to um… wet your pants.” A gasp escaped her lips as she looked down at the rapidly growing stain around her crotch. Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. She raised her leg, about to stomp her foot, but stopped herself at the last moment. Her chest heaved up and down. She bit down on her bottom lip, wide eyes filled with tears. This had never happened before in the day. It had never happened in public before. How could she not have felt it? Willa was prepared for the ridicule. The laughter. But none came. Instead, the woman handed her her sweater. “Tie this around your waist and cover up the stain. Do you have anywhere to stay?” she eyed her trash bags in pity. Timidly, the young girl shook her head side to side. “My name is Vera James. I can help you if you wish. I’ve worked with many, kids, such as yourself with similar problems-” “It was a one time thing and I don’t have a problem,” her voice hardened. The lady pursed her lips, continuing after the interruption. “Everyone has accidents.” she said matter of factly, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before and It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I live in Henderson, you may not have heard of the town, it’s a little outside of the city. I foster at risk youth and troubled teens-” “I’m fine,” her voice rose before she could let the woman continue. Her mother had always warned her about stranger danger. Just because she was nice and seemed to care, did not mean she was not dangerous. Besides, she’d never heard of this Henderson place and if it was so great, what was she doing here? “I’m, um, I’m going to stay with my brother.” she made up an excuse. The woman didn’t believe her. “I was actually on my way there right now.” she said. “Now, if you’d excuse me.” ooOoo A/N: I hope you've all enjoyed the first chapter! There wasn't a ton of ageplay in the first chapter but trust me, it's just getting started! I've actually already started writing the second chapter and so that should be posted shortly!
  17. So, here's a movie I was watching on AMAZON. Basically it's about a guy who gets blown off by a girl, and what does he do? Kidnap her and hold her for 5 months. He has her tied up and sedated, and then I noticed her underwear looked a little funny..... See normally in these kinda movies, they don't' really mention anything about what these characters do when call of nature comes up. This one, has her in a pullup. They don't really draw attention to it, but yeah. There ya go.
  18. Let me make it clear at the start that like most other DLs I love my nice thick and fat diapers that I wear every night and some days. However, I wasn't wearing a diaper most days just my panties. I began wearing the feminine Always Discreet underwear always with one or two Tena overnight pads for the bulk during the days. Loved the bulk and the Tena pads held quite a bit. Well I ran out of the pads so just wore one of the AD pullups. They are white with a blue printed ribbon and bow around the waist, so kinda cute. They just have a thin padding strip in the crotch area so didn't expect much. Boy, was I surprised. I wore the first one all day and wet in it several times without one leak. Amazing, and boy it was swelled up. I loved it and now wear one every day and no more pads. I was just at the store today and notice that AD has a line called 'boutique' that are peach color with a ribbon bow, so had to buy some to try. Will keep you posted.
  19. From the album: Gobphus in Diapers

    I just changed from my soaked and leaking overnight NorthShore Supreme and booster pad into this NorthShore Flex Supreme pullup, which I'll wear and wet until I have to work out later today. If I mow my lawn later, I'll certainly wear it while I work. It's so convenient not to have to quit what I'm doing to go inside and use the toilet, and it feels good to wet.
  20. Below is the announcement from Abena on their upcoming changes to Abri-Flex pull-on line:
  21. For the most part I vastly prefer diapers such as goodnites or pullups. I find they look absolutely amazing on anyone who wears them and they are super cute. However for big wettings I definitely would use bigger adult diapers. Does anyone else prefer the pull-up style of diaper?
  22. From the album: Little sissy's go in their diapers!

    Jks it's a pull up ^-^ I ran out of diapers D;;;;; ++ Sorry it's blurry >.<
  23. Have any of you seen the new Men's boxers at walgreens. Completely a knock off of the good night's boxers, but these are white with a star print on them. I kinda searched the boards and didn't see anyone posting on them -so if these are new I'll try and get pics of em up. Initial impressions are absolutly what one would expect from a store brand product - but they are kind of fun to wear since I am way too big for good nights. Novelty factor of 9, practicality factor of 3 - target audience of old men who dribble these will probably be just fine. -Todd
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