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  1. Ordered the new little mermaid pull ups from wal-mart. the designs are super cute and hold a lot of potty suprisenly. Definitely check these out if you're a pull ups lover 😊
  2. Im new to this fourm and would love to chat with some Scottish Diaper Lovers as im looking to find friends with an interest in Pullups
  3. The one thing Madelyn desires most in the world is to wear diapers again, and she is prepared to do anything to make that wish come true. As inexplicable as that desire is for a twelve-year-old girl, it is one she has obsessed over for the past three years. Ever since Madelyn tried on a pull-up that a distant cousin had used for bedwetting, the thought of what it would be like to forego her underwear for that padded, crinkling sensation between her legs has been a desire she has been unable to shake. Every other plan to get her hands on diapers or pull-ups has failed up to now. But this time it is going to be different. This time it is going to work. This time she isn’t going to back out at the last minute. The plan is simple. All Madelyn has to do is intentionally begin to wet the bed at night. Then, her parents will have no choice but to get her the diapers she so badly desires. What could possibly go wrong? Chapter 1: Daydreams in Class I will not chicken out this time. That was what I had told myself two days ago. That was also what I had told myself yesterday. Third time was the charm, right? It was easy to put a bold face to my latest harebrained scheme to acquire diapers from the safety of my daydreams. It was much harder when the time came to actually carry out the plan that had been brewing in the back of my mind for the past year – one I had finally decided to put into motion this week. Why would a 12-year-old girl want to wear diapers in the first place? I don’t know. All I know is that for the past three years, nothing I have done has been successful at getting this obsession out of my head. I certainly didn’t have any interest in being a baby. My younger brother, Jackson, is only six years old. I discovered where Mom kept all his old baby stuff long ago. I’ve tried his old pacifiers, bottles, and sippy cups. None of those items held any appeal for me. I can’t stand kids’ TV shows. I can’t color to save my life. And don’t get me started on dollhouses, barbies, and whatever other toys babies like to play with. In every aspect of my life other than this strange desire for diapers, I wanted to act my age. My latest plan all started a year ago with a magazine and a desire to procrastinate on my homework. There had to be some level of irony to the fact that this latest idea came about when I was seated on the porcelain throne. Mom had almost a dozen different magazines she subscribed to. Most of them found their way to the bathroom, which was also probably the only circumstance where I would have even considered reading them in the first place. I was already finished doing my business, but leaving the bathroom meant needing to continue a homework assignment I’d been slowly picking away at for the past hour. The only reason I even bothered to pick up a copy of the Reader’s Digest on that day about a year ago was for the few sections where it had funny jokes and stories. That, and I had left my smartphone in the bedroom. I really didn’t know how my parents managed when they were my age. I skimmed through the first section of jokes. Whoever had put together this edition of the magazine had totally mailed it in. There was a completely unoriginal one about redheads and souls that had me tempted to toss the magazine in the garbage. I mean, with how many magazines Mom had, would she even miss it? Redhead jokes get old really quick when you’ve had people telling you them your whole life. It has been forever since I’d been told one I hadn’t heard before. And even longer since I’ve been told one that was actually funny. Maybe I would have better luck with the second humor section toward the back of the magazine. I flipped through the pages casually when one of the advertisements caught my eye. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing. There it was. Right on the page. An exact replicate of the pull-up I had briefly stolen from a cousin two years ago. But there was more. That pull-up from two years ago had been the boys’ designs. This ad showed that there were ones for girls as well. And even though I’d had a pretty good growth spurt in the past two years, the product info indicated that I wasn’t even close to being too big to wear them. I didn’t tuck the magazine in the trash, but I did take it with me from the bathroom, burying it deep inside my box of miscellaneous things in my bedroom. I’ve looked at that page at least once a day for the past year. “Earth to Maddy. Earth to Maddy. We’re calling in.” My head jerked upright from the hard wooden desk in my math classroom to the sound of laughter. “Here!” I called back to our math teacher. “Well, thank you for joining us again, Maddy. Now,” he said, pointing to a cluster of numbers, letters, and symbols on the whiteboard, “that we’ve isolated ‘x’ on this side of the equation. Can you tell us what it is?” I had enough trouble paying attention in classes that I liked. For ones I hated? The temptation to daydream was hard to resist. And I hated math class. It was hard enough when we were dealing with regular numbers. I would be lucky to scrape by with a “B-” on my report card. But now, with the end of the school year in sight, my math teacher had ever-so-helpfully decided to give us a sneak peek of some of the things we got to look forward to learning next year in eighth grade. I sucked at long division. But it at least made sense conceptually. The numbers were real, even if doing the work to get the answer was tedious. But now there was this thing the teacher called Algebra, where we were supposed to be adding up letters as well as numbers, which was beyond my ability to comprehend. Every “x” and “y” on the whiteboard seemed designed to taunt me. May as well put a “D” or a “C” on the board, as that was about what I could expect on my report card next year if this was what was in store for me. I stared blankly at the whiteboard with the sinking feeling that even if I had been paying attention for the past five minutes, I wouldn’t be any closer to understanding what was going on. “Um,” I said, picking at my nails while I continued to stare ahead. I had to at least give some kind of guess. But my brain and my mouth sometimes aren’t exactly in sync with one another. “The spot.” “I’m sorry. What was that?” Mr. Thompson asked. “You know, the spot. Like, ‘x’ marks the spot.” The classroom was full of laughter again. This time with me rather than at me. I made eye contact with one of my friends, Angie, who turned to look back at me from the front row. We shared a smirk at the joke. Mr. Thompson sighed. “Everyone settled down, please.” He gave me a look that suggested he might be once again telling my parents about how I had apparently been disruptive in class. “Now, Maddy, if you had been paying attention as we worked through this problem, you would know that the answer was actually…” I didn’t even manage to pay attention long enough to get to the answer to what ‘x’ happened to be or what sorcery had been used to arrive at that conclusion. I fixed my eyes on a spot on the whiteboard, a method I had mastered to trick teachers into thinking I was actually paying attention to their nonsense when I’d rather be daydreaming. My thoughts slipped back toward my plans for this evening. The third time had to be the charm, right? It wasn’t really my fault the first two attempts at wetting the bed had failed. The first night, I had simply been too tired. We’d had an exhausting soccer game that evening that had gone on to overtime, and we’d been shorthanded, so I hadn’t spent almost any time on the bench. I had fully intended to stay up past midnight but had used the excuse of being tired to back out of it. Instead, I let myself drift off to sleep without wetting the bed. During the second night, I’d managed to stay up until 1 a.m., but I had found it impossible to make myself pee. I simply hadn’t had enough to drink. I had considered simply pouring water on my bed, but I was worried that might not be convincing enough should my parents make a closer examination of my bedding. I could have snuck off for a glass of water in the kitchen and stayed up another hour, but again, I chickened out and pushed the plan off to another night. But tonight was going to be different. I was going to be drinking as much water as I could tonight, and I would skip going to the toilet before going to bed. Plus, tonight was Friday, which meant it was pizza night, so as long as I picked out a caffeinated soda, I should be able to keep myself up late enough for this plan to work. I realized that I was likely going to have to keep this up for multiple nights. One random night of bedwetting — after having never wet the bed since I had been potty trained at the age of two — wouldn’t be enough to convince my parents to take action. But if I could have the courage to keep it up long enough, they would have no choice but to purchase the pull-ups shown on the magazine page for me. I would make sure to leave that old magazine out in a way that would get Mom to see the advertisement. It was a desperate move, but I couldn’t wait any longer for the pull-ups. I knew from other advertisements I’d seen that these pull-ups were sold in stores. Had there been a store close by that I could bike to, I might have considered going out and purchasing some for myself on a day when I had been left at home on my own. But that wasn’t an option for me. I still had over three years to go before I would be old enough to get my own driver’s license. I had already waited three years for this. I couldn’t possibly wait three more. “Maddy. Earth to Maddy. Hey!” There was the sound of hands clapping together a single time. More laughter. I blinked rapidly, adjusting my gaze over to Mr. Thompson, where he was standing at the front of the classroom with his palms still pressed together from making the noise he had used to so rudely interrupt my daydreams. “Maddy, please just take one of the homework sheets and pass the rest behind you.” I looked straight ahead, where Chloe was holding a stack of papers with her arm stretched out toward me. She rolled her eyes at me as I grabbed them from her. In a rare moment of self-control, I did not stick my tongue out at her. I took one of the homework sheets and passed the remaining one behind me to where one of my two best friends was sitting. The three of us had initially been seated next to each other. But Mr. Thompson decided a few weeks into the school year that doing so was too much of a distraction. Emma, who had been seated to my right, was switched to the seat behind me. Angie, who had been on my left, had worse luck. Not only was she moved to the front of the class, but she had to sit next to Ryan, who had the disgusting habit of picking his nose in public. But that was OK. We’d have the whole weekend together. Tonight was the beginning of the playoffs for our U13 soccer team. We’d had a moderately successful season, meaning we’d managed to somehow win more games than we lost over the past several months. It was disappointing that the spring soccer season was so close to coming to an end, but we had the opportunity to keep it going this weekend if we could manage to string a few victories together. The bell rang as the final class of the week came to an end. Mr. Thompson belted out more instructions about the homework as I slid the piece of paper, with all its archaic symbols and equations, into my backpack. I’d just ask Angie and Emma later to see if there was something I’d missed in his instructions. I joined my two friends in the hallway. We all lived in the same neighborhood, so we rushed off to catch the bus together. They chatted excitedly about the game tonight, but I walked alongside them in silence. My thoughts were somewhere entirely else. My mind settled on the image of the pull-up I had held in my hand three years ago. The few minutes where I had examined it thoroughly, my fingers tracing over its whole surface. How it had felt to wear it for a couple of minutes before I was forced to set it aside, not knowing the opportunity was one I wouldn’t get again for years. Should everything go as planned, I would be wearing a pull-up again in less than a week. But to accomplish that, I needed to wet the bed tonight – on purpose. <><><> Three years ago If there was a single moment that perhaps best defined the last three years of my life, it was that day three years ago when it all began. The day I first laid eyes on a simple object that would become an obsession I would never be able to shake off. I didn’t cry at the funeral. I knew, intellectually, that this was what people were supposed to do. But even the sight of my aged great-grandfather lying in the open casket hadn’t moved me to tears. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t sad, but it was a more abstract kind of sadness. That kind that has someone thinking heavy thoughts about what happens after death, not that kind that leaves someone bawling on their knees. I had no memories of the man lying in the casket. My parents said I had met my great-grandfather three times. But I had been too young to have any memories of those visits. My older sister, Grace, on the other hand, was devastated. It was her first funeral as well. She had memories of her great-grandfather. The man in the casket was not an abstract concept to her, but the ghost of someone who had played with her and held her in his arms. Jackson cried as well, but that was just because he was a baby. You could never exactly tell what it was that they were upset about most of the time. The three-year-old boy likely just needed a nap. But the funeral home wasn’t where that pivotal event in my life transpired; it was merely marked the event that gave cause for all my distant relations – grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins – to join together from where they were all scattered across the country. The reception after the funeral was where the fateful moment occurred. The adults ate, drank, and smoked while kids split into playing games with others of their age. There was a cohort of preschoolers huddled around a TV, watching stupid kids’ shows. On the other end of the spectrum was a collection of angsty teenagers Grace had abandoned me to hang out with. They weren’t particularly welcoming of youngsters, and my normally friendly sister had shooed me off after I attempted to tag along with her. Not that I cared that much. Other than my sister, teenagers made me a bit apprehensive. Besides, there were a half-dozen other kids my age to hang out with. My mom introduced me to two boys shortly after we arrived at the house for the reception. One of them, Alex, was eight. Though he made clear he would be nine in a few weeks, which would make him as old as me. His younger brother, Timothy, was seven. The boys were distant cousins from half-way across the country. There was some technical term Mom used for exactly what type of cousin they were to me — second cousins, twice removed. That didn’t mean anything to me. All that mattered was that they were my age and more than open to finding some way to play in order to pass the time while the adults did whatever adults did. We hit it off immediately. We did what kids that age normally do. We fell into the habit of playing simple games with each other as if we had been friends all of our lives. The two brothers were staying at the house where the reception was being hosted, so it was only fair that they gave me a tour of the massive building. We explored the expansive backyard, winding our way through the adults in the garden until we were shooed away. We played in the basement for a while, which had foosball and ping-pong tables before the teens decided that was where they wanted to be hanging out instead. But there was still plenty of house to explore. Alex and Timothy led me up a winding staircase to some rooms upstairs, where they had been sleeping while their family stayed with the relatives who were hosting the reception. That’s when I stumbled across a stunning revelation. One that would shape my life for the next three years. Haunt my dreams. Hound my thoughts. Practically drive me crazy as I was often left incapable of thinking of anything else. There was something out-of-place sitting in the corner of the room on top of a pile of discarded laundry. I tended to usually say the first thing that came to mind without regard to whether it was socially appropriate to do so. I wasn’t any better at that at the age of nine. I pointed at a blue undergarment in the corner that didn’t exactly look like a normal piece of underwear. It was not as though I didn’t have a good suspicion of what it was. But I wanted confirmation. “What is that?” Timothy walked casually over to the corner and picked it up. “Oh, that’s my pull-up.” I looked at the item in his hand. He was seven. That couldn’t possibly be his. I felt sure I was the subject of some kind of joke. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “You’re too old to wear pull-ups.” “Older kids sometimes need to wear pull-ups,” he said, still holding the item in his hand. His defiance left me no less confused. I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that even fits you.” I hadn’t intended in any way to dare them to put the pull-up on. But that must be how that statement had come across. Alex snatched the pull-up out of his brother’s hand and tugged it on over his dress pants. “See,” he said. “It fits. We wear them ’cause we still wet the bed.” They were bedwetters. And they weren’t the least bit ashamed of it. That was at least a topic that I understood. I had no intention of teasing or bullying them. While neither my brother nor I were bedwetters, my older sister had wet the bed up until a year or so ago. Why hadn’t I put together a connection between pull-ups and bedwetting? Come to think of it. I wasn’t even sure if Grace had worn pull-ups during her bedwetting phase. She had her own room, which I was very much forbidden from going into, so if she had, there wasn’t any way I would have known about it. When I had first learned of my older sister’s predicament, my parents had sat down with me and calmly explained what bedwetting was and how I was to never shame or tease her about it. And given how privately they had handled her condition, and the fact that it hadn’t ever impacted my life at all, I truthfully hadn’t ever given her bedwetting much of a thought. Alex mistook my pensiveness while considering my sister’s bedwetting to mean that I was still confused about the topic. He launched into a long explanation with words like enuresis, explaining how bedwetting was just a medical condition that he and his brother would grow out of. “Do you wet the bed?” Timothy asked me. “No,” I replied. I came close to continuing my reply and accidentally outing my sister, but I would never do something that mean to her. Alex still had the pull-up around his waist, completely unconcerned with how silly it looked. The pull-up had a picture of Spiderman, my favorite superhero, on the front. I pointed that out, which led to another conversation about which Marvel superheroes we liked best. Timothy was big on Iron Man. But Alex insisted that Batman was better than any of them. My eyes kept glancing down at Alex’s waist. I found myself unable to look away from the pull-up for long. The sight of the pull-up around Alex’s waist raised another thought. That pull-up would fit me just as well. My distant cousin and I were both about the same size, after all. I didn’t question the desire to wear the pull-up. Once the impulse had taken hold of me, there was little else I could think of as I distractedly continued the conversation with my cousins. Our parents called us down for dinner. Alex ripped the pull-up off and tossed it back in the corner of the room before we retreated down the stairs. I was unable to concentrate during dinner. Alex and Timothy were across the table from me, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut about what I had just witnessed. I was filled to the brim with questions, most of which I would have to keep inside unless I were presented with another chance to have a private discussion with those two bedwetting cousins. But there was one question more important than any of them. One perhaps best answered on my own rather than by asking them. What did it feel like to wear a pull-up? While the adults were content to sit and chat around at the table long after their plates were clean, that wasn’t the case for us kids, and soon we were back to running around; Timothy, Alex, and I were joined by another four cousins. Big houses and hide and seek go hand in hand together. We agreed that hiding upstairs in the house was against the rules for the game of hide and seek. That meant that the upstairs room where the pull-ups were waiting for me was technically off-limits. But I didn’t care one bit about the game. Anyway, making the upstairs rooms off-limits had been my idea. An absolutely brilliant stroke of genius for a then nine-year-old girl. In one move, I’d ensured that no one would be up there when I went looking for the pull-up and that I would be safe from anyone following after me. I took quick glances in both directions as I stood at the base of the stairway. Perfect. There were no other kids in sight. I leaped up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time with each upward lunge until I was safely around the corner and out of sight. I encountered my first problem when I made it to the bedroom where Timothy and Alex had been sleeping. I had somehow assumed that the pull-up Alex had ripped off could be fixed. I seemed to recall that the pull-ups my brother had worn a year ago had Velcro sides. But that wasn’t the case with these bedwetting pull-ups for some reason. But there had to be additional pull-ups elsewhere. There couldn’t be any way that the boy’s parents would risk them peeing all over the bed while they were spending the night as guests. I didn’t have any luck in the first suitcase that I looked through, nor the second, but the third one was where I struck gold. There were more than a dozen pull-ups tucked into the side of the suitcase. Surely, they wouldn’t notice if one of them happened to go missing. I grabbed a pull-up and bundled the pull-up into a ball, tucking it into the waistband of my skirt. I was sure that was not nearly as discreet as I thought it was at the time. But, to my good fortune, I was able to make it to a nearby bathroom without being caught. The adults were busy downstairs, and my cousins, who were playing hide and seek, were doing a better job than I was at abiding by the rules. I locked the bathroom door behind me. I double and triple-checked to make sure the door was actually locked. I removed the pull-up from under my skirt and held it in my hands. I didn’t stop then to think through how bizarre the whole situation was at the time. I think I must have stood there looking at it for several minutes. Feeling how it crinkled beneath my touch, testing out the sides to see how far they could stretch, rubbing my fingers down the padded interior. I was completely and utterly fascinated by it. The desire was no more explainable than a moth being drawn to a flame, a kitten to catnip, or a raven to a shiny object. I cautiously slid my arms through the leg holes, stretching the pull-up out in front of me. Not only was it more than stretchy enough for me, but it could probably fit a kid twice as wide as I was. Now came the moment of truth. I removed my skirt and underwear. The pull-up had a side that was helpfully labeled as the back, so I knew which way to put it on. As I brought the pull-up into place around my waist, it was like sliding the final piece of a puzzle into place. I turned around so that I could look at my reflection in the mirror. I lifted up the front of my skirt so that the whole pull-up was in view. It practically came up all the way to my belly button. There was something about the way it hugged my sides, the way the soft padding pressed against my skin as I sat down on the toilet lid and the way it crinkled quietly as I paced across the bathroom that left me completely enamored. There was just one thing left to do. And I didn’t have much time before everyone noticed that I was missing. I lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and sat down while still wearing the pull-up. One of my deepest regrets was that I had went to go potty right before the game of hide and seek began, meaning there wasn’t anything waiting to come out of my bladder at the moment. I tried. I really did. I wanted to know. I had to know. What would it feel like to pee into a pull-up? It couldn’t be bad. Alex and Timothy hadn’t seemed to be put off at all by waking up in a wet pull-up every morning. But nothing happened. The timing was off. My bladder wouldn’t cooperate. And time was up. I needed to be out of the bathroom in a couple of minutes. I considered it a radical idea. What if I put my underwear and skirt over the top of the pull-up? I could continue to wear it until I actually needed to pee. I nearly did it. I really, truly, honestly nearly did it. But then I chickened out. The same way I would, time and time again for years afterward. It was too risky. A small trickle of shame was diluting my euphoria. I knew that despite how ecstatic I was at my discovery, the reality of anyone else discovering this secret — and the relentless shame and teasing that would follow — would be devastating. I wasn’t like Alex or Timothy. I didn’t have the veneer of bedwetting to hide behind as an excuse for wearing a pull-up. I slid the pull-up off of my legs. I intended to put it back in the suitcase. Then it would be like nothing had ever happened. That’s when I encountered a second problem. Apparently, I had gone potty in the pull-up after all. Not a lot, just the teensiest of tinkles. But it was enough to leave a tiny yellow patch the size of a quarter smack dab in the middle of the pull-up. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had even noticed it in the first place. That would have made for an awkward situation for Alex and Timothy had I put the pull-up back in the suitcase. I peered into the trash can. I was in luck. I could make out two pull-ups at the bottom of the small trash can. One had been turned inside out, the color of its interior leaving no doubt as to the truthfulness of Alex’s description of his and his brother’s bedwetting. I bunched up the pull-up and tossed it in the trash can. I didn’t think it was likely that anyone would be paying too much attention to notice the addition of one more pull-up in it. My curiosity sated, I returned to the game of hide and seek, pretending that I had been expertly moving in between hiding places to avoid being spotted. I didn’t think anymore about the pull-up until later that evening when we were lying in bed at the hotel. Jackson was little enough that he could sleep on a padded mat and sleeping bag on the floor while Grace and I shared a bed – an experience that hadn’t gone well the past couple of nights, as it had been interrupted by midnight accusation of blanket theft. If it had just been Grace and me in the room, if Mom, Dad, and Jackson hadn’t been around to overhear it, I might have worked up the courage to ask my older sister about her bedwetting. I wasn’t even sure if she knew that I knew about it. But I had to know. Had she worn the same pull-ups as Alex and Timothy? Was there perhaps a style that came in colors and designs for girls? But we weren’t alone, and those questions went unasked. The drive home wasn’t any easier. I didn’t touch my tablet, which had been my constant companion on the trip here. Instead, I stared out the window. But I wasn’t paying any attention to the passing cities and landscapes. Instead, my mind was replaying the events of the previous day, in particular, the few precious minutes when I had my hands on the pull-up. I was filled with a deep sense of longing and regret. Why had I thrown the pull-up in the trash? Why hadn’t I put it back on beneath my skirt? I would have had it with me now. I could have been wearing it now. Of course, I did know better. I would have had no issue wearing the pull-up out of the house, but once we had gotten to the hotel, there wouldn’t have been any realistic way for me to have kept it concealed. But the acknowledgment of that reality did nothing to lessen my longing for the pull-up. I had nothing but time as I began to scheme up all the different ways I could get my hands on another one, or better yet, an actual diaper. What would I have done if I had known the wait was to be measured in years rather than days, weeks, or months? --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/
  4. Did not expect huggies to release a 5t-6t version of their night time pull ups. But to my suprise they did and I couldn't be more happier. These seem to be a bit more stretchier then the regular 5T-6T pull ups and definitely a lot more absorbant. They feature two cute sleepy mickey mouse designs. I've already went potty 3 times in mine and no leaks! I highly recommend giving these a try if you're a pull ups fan 😊
  5. “Do I have to take them down myself, little girl?” I hate it when my girlfriend calls me that! Yes, I’m six inches shorter. Yes, she’s eight years older. Yes, she’s the one in charge in our relationship, and yes, this whole domestic discipline thing had all been my idea three years ago, but I’m 30 and Not. A. Little! Girl! Dammit! But all I did instead was whine, “Not here. Please? I’m sorry. Can’t we just wait until we get home?” “Daphne,” Mary said, “this is not up for discussion. Besides, Brenna has seen plenty of bare bottoms spanked, including yours.” I glared at Brenna. We knew her through a local Fetlife group. Sometimes we did just plain vanilla stuff with her, like regular friends, like today, when she’d asked us for help planting trees in her yard. Mary has the green thumb. I hate yard work. “Bare? Can’t it just be over my shorts?” You’d think I’d have gotten used to being spanked, what with not a week going by when I wasn’t, but I never had, which I guess is the point. I looked at Brenna, who was smiling approvingly from the couch. Mary had pulled a kitchen chair into the living room and sat down. “Did your shorts make a rude comment to Brenna? Did your undies? So why would I spank those,” Mary asked me in her stern voice, the one she saves for when she’s talking to me like I’m a naughty little kid. “No,” I mumbled. I’d learned the hard way that there is no such thing as a rhetorical question when I’m in trouble. Mary reached out and grabbed me by the waistband of my innocent shorts and pulled me closer. None of this would have happened if Brenna had just been grateful we were over there helping in the first place. So I’m not Ma Nature - did it really matter if the hole wasn’t exactly fifteen inches deep? Of course, I do have a tendency to kill houseplants, even succulents. But anyway, she was harping on it, and I got irritated and said, “Then why don’t you just do it yourself, dammit?” I’m not sure if I’d have been in so much trouble if I hadn’t added the ‘dammit.’ At least I didn’t interfere while Mary popped the button on my shorts and whisked them, along with my panties, down to me ankles. “How did you get so dirty, anyway,” Daphne asked. “Not like you were putting that much effort into it.” I didn’t need to respond because Mary easily tossed me over her knee. My hands were on the floor, but my feet were not, leaving my butt hanging there. “Anything to say, Daphne,” Mary asked as she rubbed my butt. “I’m really sorry?” “Not as sorry as you will be.” That little rub is all I ever get for a warm up. Mary believes spankings are best delivered hard and fast, and within ten second she’d probably spanked me thirty times. This all started as a relationship with spanking involved, a little role play and bedroom fun. I even spanked her a couple times, though neither of us liked it. Eventually, I said I wanted it to be more than roleplay. I wanted it to be our lifestyle. I shortly thereafter found out just how many issues Mary had with my behavior and how much she’d been wanting to fix them for a while by then. But I wasn’t thinking about the time she had needed to spank me three times in one day. I was thinking about the spanking she was giving me right then. Mary is thorough in everything she does, and a creature of habit. She always starts out spanking me seemingly at random, no order to which side she wails on or how many. She likes to make sure I can’t anticipate anything. I lay there doing my best to hold still and be quiet, trying to keep my eyes closed and pretend Brenna wasn’t there, probably smiling. Only when my butt is a dark pink from top to sit spots does Mary really get going. As she says, this is when the real spanking starts. She stopped assaulting my butt and said, “Hand me the paddle, Daphne.” I freakin’ hate the thing. It’s small, heavy, and has four holes in it. She got it specifically to keep in her purse. She could just use her hairbrush when she disciplines me away from home (dressing rooms are the worst - everyone can hear!), but no, she says knowing she has a just-for-spanking implement with her at all times does a better job reminding me to behave. I pick it up with my left hand and reach behind me to give it to her. She takes it, then takes my arm and pins it behind my back. I’m a wiggler when she uses that thing. She’s like a freakin’ ninja with it. Equal parts thuddy and stingy, she paddles as fast as she hand spanks, but in a tight pattern. Up and down, each spank overlapping with the one before it, in a tight row, then shifting over and working a line from top to sit spot again. She never makes it from one side to the other but that I go from grunts to sobs to tears. Every. Damn. Time. The small paddle bounces off my bottom so fast I don’t even feel the individual spanks anymore. It’s all one swollen throb. She’s gentle, by comparison, with my thighs, but before she’s done with those ten spanks to the tender backs of my legs, I frantically promise, “I’m sorry! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” Mary finished the last spank, and I lay over limp over her soft lap, big tears falling, and my nose running. It takes me a few seconds to realize Mary is rubbing my back, like she always does after a hard spanking, shushing me gently. When I’m ready, I start to get up, and Mary helps me so that I’m sitting on her lap, my crimson bottom aching when I do, and crying into her shirt as she calms me. “It’s okay, little girl,” she coos to me, “All is forgiven.” She kisses my temple. “Let it all out. That’s my brave girl.” When I get myself under control, though still struggling with the occasional sob and needing badly to blow my nose, she helps me off her lap. “What do you say to Brenna,” Mary asked. I don’t know when I kicked off my shorts and panties, nor do I care. I shuffled over to Brenna. “I’m sorry for being rude,” I said. “I forgive you,” she says, opening her arms. Brenna is big woman, and I all but collapse into her softness. I do like her, even though she has a way of bringing out the brat in me, but that brat never seems to be that far away. I stand between her big thighs, and she rubs my butt with one hand while she hugs me with the other. I’m grateful she does because I’m not allowed to rub. “Mary, why don’t you go take her to wash her face, and I’ll get lunch ready,” Brenna suggests. “Can I have my shorts back,” I ask meekly. “After lunch,” Mary says, holding out her hand. I take it. I like Mary’s hands. I also know she’s gonna lift me up and seat me on the cold vanity, and that it’s gonna feel good for about five seconds then feel clammy and hard. After lunch, I’m for sure gonna dig those holes right, and without a world of complaint.
  6. Hey I'm trying to find alternatives to drynites as ive put on a little bit of weight due to my hrt, and no longer fit in them, and other pullups just don't have the same feel, was just wondering if anyone has any that they know of that.
  7. After years of hiding that i enjoy wearing Pullups ive finally decided to join the community as id like to meet other people similar to myself. My whole life ive always had a fascination with wearing diapers. When i was around 14 i began wearing Drynites at almost evey opertunity i could. I recently began researching into ABDL and i am very much not a fan of the ageplay, I just enjoy wearing them as they would always make me feel comfortable. i would like to chat with people that have the same interest in Pullups as i do and possibly indulge in them together eventually. Im 27 and live in Scotland and would love any advice the community can offer me.
  8. Contains: Premature Ejaculation, Humiliation, Pull-ups ... Timberly Swinn, 27 F Happy for fun, would love something deeper. Sex positive, unless you’re a fuckin’ creep. I’m interested in technology and writing on the human psyche. I like board game nights with friends when we want to keep things low key. For a high energy date I’ll teach you how to play pickleball–I’d say, ‘Loser buys drinks afterwards’, but I don’t need free drinks. I’m not going to quit my career for you, don’t even ask. Looking for a sweet, sensitive guy who isn’t terrified of emotional vulnerability. Sam scanned the dating app profile, hesitated, then looked at her picture again. She was chubby and tan and didn’t appear to be more than five foot even–only an inch shorter than himself–with a short pixie cut. She radiated confidence in her selfies; attractive, self assured, and her bio got his interest. (Sure, why not?) He sent her a message. … It took two weeks of chatting before Sam could work up the courage to ask Timberly out for coffee. She countered with dinner and drinks at a local club, and he fumbled typing his response so badly he sent ‘Y3<s’ by mistake. She just…got him. They’d quickly moved off the dating app and onto a little chat app she’d recommended, and whenever he heard its notification jingle he felt his heart flutter. Timberly was funny, successful, and confident in her attractiveness–Sam thought he was just a little funny, and not in the ‘good at telling jokes’ way. He worked as an underpaid stage hand and lived out of his parents’ basement because there was nowhere else he could afford rent. What did she want out of him? He kept expecting her to drop him, to move on to someone better. In fact, he found himself almost pushing for it–he didn’t try to hide the fact he was dirt poor or put on a persona of success. Timberly didn’t mind. She insisted she was interested in who he was as a person, not the lack of a comma in his bank account. So, anxious about being underwhelming but willing to give it a try, he’d put on a shirt that properly buttoned and tan pants, walked forty minutes to the bar she’d recommended, arrived twenty minutes early, and sat on a bench outside waiting for– “Sam?” He hadn’t heard Timberly’s voice before, but he recognized her from her photos in an instant–though she hadn’t been wearing a vest over a crisp white shirt that gave her a look of strength and solid poise. Sam momentarily worried his jaw would hit the floor and his tongue would roll out like a red carpet, but he managed to come up with a reply instead. “Timberly,” he nodded his head, looking her up and down and answering all at once. “I–I feel underdressed.” “Don’t worry, I think you look just right,” she said, nodding at the restaurant door. “I’ve got us a table–and, please, you can just call me Tim.” She led him in, ordered drinks for them when the waiter came around, and let the conversation slip into talking. Sam knew he was doomed, then–he was head over heels for her. She knew what she wanted, and she was getting it. They talked about work–he had fairly little to offer to that conversation–but her ambition made him want to go run a marathon or climb a mountain or something, just any activity to match her intensity. They talked about growing up–there, he had more in common, they’d both been to charter schools and he had stories to swap. “You’re cute,” she said, after placing their dinner orders. “I–” He spluttered. The direct complement had short circuited his thoughts, and his cheeks started to burn. (Oh god, you’re blowing this. Just…breathe.) “Thank you, you look fantastic.” “Thank you,” she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling when she smiled. “But that’s not all I meant. Did you know your ears wiggle when you get excited?” “They do? I didn’t…” focusing on the sensation, he realized she was right–his ears were wiggling. “I didn’t know that.” “I read people for a living. Spotting little tells in people is my business–and it can tell you a lot about a person, too, besides just which muscles are connected to which feelings in their head.” She shrugged, her body language indicating that she found the quirk endearing. “Do you know what you want to do with your life?” she asked, pivoting the conversation so quickly it gave him whiplash. “I guess…I’d really like to be in a band,” he said, knowing it sounded lame. Tim sat back, reaching into her purse to take out her phone. “A band, huh?” “Sure, it’s kind of the fantasy, isn’t it?” And it was true, it’d been Sam’s fantasy…when he was twelve. Now, he just gave that answer because he didn’t know what else to say. “Up on stage, popular…” Eyes off him completely, Tim said, “I guess so. You don’t strike me as the ‘popular’ type.” Sam winced. “Ouch.” Her gaze returned to him, and softened a little. “Oh–I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I was thinking, though…is popularity chasing really your thing? That’s what you think will bring you fulfillment?” He shrugged. “I don’t…I don’t know, really. It sounds cool? But when I think about all the work that’d go into that…I don’t know. It sounds exhausting. I’d really just like to be comfortable, I think–to have friends and people I care about, to have enough free time where I can have fun, to work a job that feels like it helps people.” She set down her phone on the table and smiled. “That’s more like the Sam I know. You’ll do just fine.” “Hmm?” “I just mean, I’m enjoying this,” she said. The waiter finally stopped by, but she just asked for more water and waved him away. “I like you, Sam.” “Thanks.” Trying to find a way to fill the space and respond, he asked, “What about you? I know you like your job, but is there anything else you’re looking for in life?” She grinned. “Oh–I crave attention.” … The night went great. Better than great–they talked for hours. His crush deepend, and at the end, she drove him home. He had to awkwardly admit they were driving back to his parent’s place, but she didn’t mind; he got into her BMW and rode with her. What he wanted was to go back to her place, to hit it off in a big way, but that could wait. The night had gone well, and Tim seemed happy–he didn’t mind patience, in theory. Unfortunately, he had a tough time convincing his body of that–during the back half of the drive home, Tim had to shift the way he sat three times to hide the unfortunate erection that’d cropped up. It just wouldn’t go away, even as he kept trying to shift the conversation towards serious topics–for reasons he couldn’t quite put into words, Timberly simply made him horny. Parking on the curb, Tim walked around to get his door, let him out, and took his hand. “I had a really nice time tonight,” he said. “Me too,” she replied. “I’d like to take you out again.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Please! And–” She leaned in to kiss him, and– (Oh god, oh god–) Sam’s cheeks caught fire and he found himself unable to stifle a moan that carried into Timberly’s lips.Without warning, he found himself spurting into his boxers right there on the street, mingling embarrassment and bliss. Tim pulled back. “Was the kiss that goo–Sam?” He couldn’t help but breathe rapidly, trying to keep his face placid, unable to totally resist the sensitive shocks of bliss currently dribbling out of him. “Um…um–” Sam looked down, stupidly, shocked to see it’d soaked through. He’d stained his pants with the unexpected orgasm, right there at the end of the date, and Tim’s gaze followed his. “f**k–” he started, blush rising, before turning and sprinting into his home. He simply could not face Tim for another second. … Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp chirp! Sam didn’t answer his phone until the fifth chirp. He couldn’t bear to read the rejection message Tim had inevitably sent. Things had been going well, she’d liked him, and then he’d just blown it. (Ugh, no pun intended.) Finally, though, he had to face the music. Checking his messages… ‘Hey, Sam, I had a really nice time tonight. Don’t be embarrassed about the accident at the end–it’s not your fault.’ ‘I’d still like to go out with you again, I really didn’t mind.’ ‘How does lunch on Tuesday sound?’ ‘I knew someone in college with a similar problem. I didn’t think less of you, I was just surprised is all.’ ‘Are you okay, Sam?’ Eyes widening, he responded to the most important part first. ‘Tuesday–lunch. Yes please!’ … Things went great again, until they didn’t. Sam hadn’t experienced another bout of early ecstasy since their date, so he wrote it up as coincidence. Over excitement after a long dry spell and a wonderful night. Just to make sure, he even rubbed one out the night before. It didn’t help. They had great food, great conversation, and this time he didn’t even have the dignity of going out to the car–she reached across the table to hold his hand, gave it a squeeze, said how lovely he was looking that afternoon, and– (Oh god.) He was just glad they’d sat in a booth instead of a high top, it gave him a modicum of privacy as his cock twitched and he came in front of Timberly for the second time. “Oh, Sam–are you–” she started. He felt he had to nod, wanting to melt into nonexistence. She let him breathe, twenty seconds passing, before she said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. You can’t help it, so what’s the problem?” “Right…” he said, looking down. His jeans were stained yet again, the faint smell of cum wafting out of the booth. But when Tim smiled at him…he didn’t mind so much. … Their third date was the real breaking point. A movie at the mall, then dinner. That was the plan. But then Zoe Kravitz came on screen, and– (f**k–) Tim gave his hand a gentle squeeze, whispering under the sound of the action on screen. “Shh–it’s okay, Sammy.” That only made his blush deepen. After the film, standing in a nook by the theater exit, he tried to explain. “I swear–this was never a problem, this never happens–” “I don’t care,” Tim promised. “I’m not judging you, Sam, it’s just little accidents that happen. Some boys are like that. But…if it’s going to keep happening, you might need to do something about that.” Looking down, she gestured to the dark stain on the front of his jeans. It looked for all the world like he’d peed his pants. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess…I could just wear a condom all the time?” She thought about it, then shook her head and took his hand–just that touch made him shudder for a moment, though thankfully he didn’t humiliate himself in front of her again. “I have another idea.” He didn’t know what she was talking about until they were deep in the mall’s retail outlet, coming up on the juvenile potty training aisle, and– He dug in his heels. “Woah! I’m not going to wear–” he dropped his voice into a low stage whisper, “diapers!” “I’m not thinking about diapers,” she said, doing nothing to match his volume shift. “Pull-ups. They make them up to your waist size, and they’ll do the trick, right?” “I, but–” he started, feeling exceptionally small–and not just in a physical sense, remembering his slim waist. “Sam,” Tim said, looking him in the eye. “Nobody except you or I will know, and it’s better than having to change your pants every time we hold hands. I’ll buy them, and a new pair of pants so we can finish our date. Just wear the pull-ups, ok, sweetie?” She wouldn’t stand for self-consciousness. He knew that, and he didn’t want to argue about the details of his diaper needs in the store when he knew he’d lose. Trying to match Timberly’s own assuredness, he nodded. “Sure.” She picked up the nearest pack, one decorated with Disney princesses, and nodded. “Ok. Let’s go find some pants, get checked out, and then we’ll find a bathroom for you to change.” … Sam hated that the pullups worked, but, well…they worked. He found himself dealing with his ‘Boy accidents’ more and more around Tim, but at least they were contained now, and all it cost was a pink waistband and the shared knowledge that he had puffy absorbent princess prints for underwear. They continued to date, weeks stretching into months, until the relationship had proper labels attached. “Boyfriend and girlfriend”. Quaint, but when Tim had declared that the terms were appropriate…he’d needed a fresh pull-up. He got to meet Tim’s friends–meeting up for game night, he was reasonably sure none of them noticed when he tensed up after Timberly laughed at one of his jokes. He had to change his pull-ups in the bathroom–twice–but had a great night otherwise. They even had sex–sort of. He lasted until she had her shirt off, but she was more than content to let Sam use his mouth and fingers to make her happy, kneeling at the foot of her bed and spending half an hour giving her the pleasure he could get in two seconds. And she never judged him. Not once. If anything, Timberly liked that she could make him pulse with pleasure just by giving him a smooch on the cheek or a squeeze of the hand. She smiled when he got flustered, said he reminded her of a kid on the playground, blushing over incredibly mild PDA. And it was mild, too. She could just stroke his hair and leave him moaning, and a deep-throated kiss was better than any marathon session he could imagine. If she really wanted, Tim could snuggle up to him on her couch during a movie, wrap her hands around his waist, and leave him quivering and drooling from pleasure. The third time she got him a pack of fresh pull-ups, she referred to them as his ‘happy pants’, and he wasn’t sure he could argue. The weird thing, though–it was just Timberly. He didn’t deal with it at work, he didn’t deal with it at home, only when he was out with her. Something about that touch, or her words, or just something made him utterly unable to control himself. He started to like it, and he was pretty sure he loved Tim, too. Four months into their relationship, she dropped two bombshells on his head. “Do you want to move in with me?” she asked, followed by, “And–your accidents are getting worse. I really think we need to get you a chastity cage.” ... Tried something new with this one, incorporating some elements I don't often use! Let me know what you think. ^^ Part two, the conclusion of their story, will be out soon! If you want to support creative endeavors like this one and get access to more content like it, you can do so here: https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling
  9. I'm curious to hear stories about everyone's first time in diapers or pullups. Obviously, we all wore them as kids, but what was the first time after being potty trained? This is my story. I was in middle school and had the house to myself. My parents took my siblings to swim practice so I knew I'd knew i would have a few hours to myself. My sister is a few years younger than me but fully potty trained. We kept pullups for her in the house as a "backups" for trips or sleepovers. At the time, i was in the habit of wearing her panties any chance i got to be alone in the house. As soon as my family left I'd run to her room, open her drawer and "play" with them. I loved all the soft fabrics and designs. All my boy underwear were tighty whites up until almost high school. But she had princesses, unicorns and cartoon characters on her panties. And i wanted some for myself for awhile. I would also routinely play with her Barbies while alone. I used to play with them when i was younger (my parents were very loving and accepting) and my sister inherited my collection when she was born. And she also got her own. Well, this time when i went to grab a Barbie, the bag of pullups fell from the shelf too. I immediately got curious. I barely remembered wearing diapers/pullups as a kid. but these ones had Disney Princesses on them! and i could squeeze into her panties (just barely) so why not try a pullup. I ran in the bathroom and slid into it. It felt electric seeing Ariel and Cinderella playing on my pullup. I even forgot about the Barbie i sat on the counter (who watched me model the pullup) I left it on for awhile as i cleaned up my sisters room, putting away the panties and dolls i played with. Then about 20 mins before my family was due to arrive home, I decided i would try wetting the pullup. I ran into the bathroom and just went. it felt AMAZING! but then i began to leak and i panicked. I jumped in the tub and ripped off the pullup. I threw down a whole roll of toilet paper trying to clean up the leakage on the floor . I ended up rushing to our neighbors house (it was trash pickup day) and throwing the pullup in their bin not more than 2 minutes before my family got home. Thankfully i wasn't caught haha. The urge to wear pullups faded but has since come alive again in the last few year. I'm currently wearing girls goodnites a few times a week and trying to squeeze into pullups again. That's my story, thanks for reading. Can't wait to hear your tales too
  10. This story has been on hiatus for but while I deal with ... life. But I'm picking it up again and getting back to more regular updates, so I figured I may as well start sharing it here as well. I've been a part of the Invader Zim fandom for a while, and there's barely any ABDL content there, so I had to fix that. Chapter 1: Once is an Accident ... i. “GAHHH!! FUCK YOU, GIR!!!!” The shout from the kitchen had Dib launching himself off the couch and sliding to a halt on the tile in his socks in no time flat. He was greeted with the sight of pink milkshake over every conceivable surface; the ceiling, the counter, the walls, the table, and all over both a thoroughly amused GIR and a very angry Zim. “Shit, Zim,” Dib groaned. “I told you messing with your PAK in the kitchen was a bad idea.” Zim’s PAK sat open on the kitchen table, half dismantled from Zim’s attempt at installing an upgrade. Zim’s body seemed to have shielded it slightly, but it was still spattered with sticky pink liquid. “I didn’t think he was gonna start the blender with the top off!! ” Zim shouted, aggravated, as he rushed to mop up the mess with his shirt before it seeped too far into his PAK. “I can’t put it back on like this!!” Dib checked his watch. He’d been keeping a countdown to make sure Zim’s PAK wasn’t off for longer than the ten minute maximum. “We’ve got eight minutes before it becomes a problem. GIR —” He looked over at the robot, who was currently trying to lick milkshake out of the blender, “— start cleaning up the kitchen.” GIR saluted and gave a shrill, “Okie dokie!!!” before dashing off to grab some towels. “My life is starting to flash before my eyes, Dib!!!” Zim whined as Dib grabbed a handful of napkins and briefly ran them under the faucet. “We’ve still got time, you fucking drama queen,” Dib admonished, shoving a the napkins at Zim. “Start cleaning up with those, and I’ll follow with some rubbing alcohol to make sure everything’s dry before you plug it back in.” Zim nodded and they quickly got to work. It wasn’t long before the tight space made their tag team effort more difficult than Dib had planned, however, especially as Zim’s coordination rapidly spiraled downwards. After watching him smear strawberry chunks around for an agonizing thirty seconds, Dib finally pushed his hands aside. “We’ve got five minutes,” Dib warned. “Let me finish this and you just try to stay conscious.” Zim’s skin was an ashy shade of green and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Even when all he had to do was sit still, he was visibly trembling. “I don’t feel so good, Dib,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know, bug, but just hang in there.” Despite the tension in the air, Dib tried harder than ever to maintain a calm demeanor, reassuring Zim in dulcet tones while scrubbing away at the sticky goo spattered all over. Behind him, he could hear GIR mostly pushing the rest of the disaster around, and he was positive he was going to need to clean that up later, as well. As the minutes ticked down, Dib’s anxiety rose like a tsunami, threatening to crash down on him every time Zim moaned in discomfort. He was down to his last minute before he knew it, and there was still a cluster of wires he had yet to clean. It was just out of reach and if he had more than sixty seconds left, he would have grabbed a cotton swab to finish cleaning them off. As it was, he twisted a napkin to give it a bit of rigidity, and blindly stuffed it in while checking his watch. “Shit.” Thirty seconds left. He shook his head and pulled his makeshift cleaning device back out. “This’ll have to do, Zim.” He leaned over and hauled Zim up onto his lap. The poor little Irken was barely even responding at this point. With seconds to spare, Dib lifted the PAK to Zim’s back and the cables shot out to reconnect with the ports on Zim’s back. Zim’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned incomprehensibly, but as he squinted and rubbed his eyes, the color was beginning to return to his cheeks. “You feeling alright?” Dib asked nervously. That last spill had been worryingly close to an awful lot of connections. Zim nodded, sliding off Dib’s lap and onto the floor. He did a couple toe touches, stretched his arms, and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Yep. Everything seems to be in or—” A sudden zap of electricity made his body convulse and PAK spark. Dib watched in silent horror as Zim suddenly went limp and fell to the floor, antennae twitching twice before falling still. Before a single coherent thought could pass through Dib’s head, he jumped up and grabbed the silicone pot holders from the counter and used them to turn Zim onto his side. The Irken didn’t seem to be breathing, but it was difficult to tell for sure. Dib retrieved his phone from his pocket and held it under Zim’s mouth, waiting for it to fog up. When it didn’t, a sick knot of realization began to form in Dib’s belly. He had no idea how to give an alien CPR. He had a vague idea of Zim’s internal structure, but the question of how to restart things had simply never come up. And when even successful human CPR led to a few broken ribs, he was leery of injuring Zim further. “Stand clear.” The robotic, monotone voice sent Dib scurrying backwards in a panic. Had Zim’s PAK really just spoken ??? Was it allowed to do that on its own?? That question certainly hadn’t ever cropped up before in all the years they’d known each other. Another jolt of electricity arced between Zim’s antennae, making his muscles twitch and jerk for a few painfully slow seconds before he was still once more. Dib leaned forward, heart hammering in his chest and breath stuck in his throat. “Zim?” he whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand. Zim’s face screwed up and he let out a low groan before opening his bleary eyes. “S-sugar …” he mumbled. Dib fell forwards and hugged him tightly. “Oh thank fuck!! I thought you died!!” “Ow … I did ,” Zim grumbled. Dib sat up so fast he saw stars. “ What‽‽ ” Zim laboriously pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his temples. “Well, I’m not dead now, idiot. My systems reset themselves,” he said thickly. “Death is rarely a permanent state, Dibby.” “God forbid there be a normal day in this household,” Dib sighed as GIR scooted by on a towel, oblivious and smearing pink stickiness across everything in his wake. Zim groaned and rubbed his head. “Getting reset depletes sugar reserves, so I’m going to need you to get me off this floor and grab me a snack before I keel over again.” Zim still seemed too weak to properly hold on to anything, so Dib lifted him in a bridal carry and carefully walked him to the couch. He set Zim down, propped up against the pillows, and gently touched a hand to Zim’s cheek. His skin was clammy and slightly pale, but at least he was obviously alive. “Are you gonna be alright?” Dib asked worriedly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just grab me a glass of Tang and a couple sugar cookies,” Zim replied in much more subdued tones. Dib gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You got it.” He strode into the kitchen, but stopped dead at the edge of the tile. GIR was sprawled out on the floor, attempting to make milkshake angels. Dib sighed, edged around the kitchen, and opened one of the cupboards to fish around for a bucket. Once he’d located one — and dumped out all the junk it contained — he filled it with soap, water, and a bit of rubbing alcohol. GIR did better when the list of steps to complete a task was as small as humanly possible, so mixing the cleaning solution before handing the task off reduced the opportunity for errors. “Alright, you’ve had enough fun,” Dib said irritably, shoving the bucket at a thoroughly unphased GIR. “I don’t care if you strap sponges to your feet or make yourself a towel taco, I just need this mess gone.” “Caaaan dooooo,” GIR yelled, snatching the bucket from him and dashing towards the sponges as soapy water sloshed onto the floor. Dib skirted out of his way and busied himself with grabbing Zim’s requested snack. He returned to the living room with a plate of sugar cookies and Tang in one of GIR’s sippy cups. Zim gave the cup a slightly hard stare, but ultimately shook his head and didn’t question the choice. “So I was thinking,” Dib said as he carefully sat down beside Zim, “we should take it easy for the rest of the day, considering you died for around forty-five seconds. We can just hole up and watch some horror movies, get some soda and kettle corn into you, that sort of thing.” Zim snuggled against Dib, head on his chest. “Works for me. I still feel … Ugh , it’s hard to put into words,” he grumbled, taking a long sip of his drink. “Something feels off, but I can’t explain it.” Dib frowned, numerous worries occupying the back of his brain. “We could take your PAK off again and try to do a more thorough job of cleaning it out?” he offered. “Not right now,” Zim said, squeezing his eyes shut. “If you take too long, it’s going to be that much harder on my body. I’m really not in any shape for that right now.” He nestled in closer, as if proximity to Dib would fix things. “I just …” He looked up at Dib, concern scrawled across his face. “Hold me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. Dib’s expression softened to one that was very nearly pity. Zim had a habit of being a pain in the ass and prickly more often than not, but he regularly demanded physical comfort whenever he was feeling less than stellar for any reason. “Yeah,” Dib replied gently. “But let me grab you some kettle corn and cocoa, first.” Zim shook his sippy cup and raised his eyebrows. “In a mug?” “In a thermos ,” Dib corrected. “I don’t need you spilling all over the couch when the kitchen is already a disaster.” An hour or so later, as morning spilled into golden autumn afternoon, the kitchen was finally clean and they were midway through one of Dib’s favorite horror movies. Zim sat snuggled under multiple blankets on Dib’s lap with a belly pleasantly full of warm drinks and sugary snacks. His color has finally returned to normal and he was no longer shivering. By all accounts, he was back to normal. Still, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was different . As he struggled to pin down exactly what or why , a sudden crescendo of music crashed through the speakers in a cheap jump scare, startling Zim back to the present with a horribly unwelcome jolt. He was suddenly glad that Dib had insisted on giving him all his drinks in containers with a top. He grumbled under his breath, ruffled, before settling back down against Dib, vaguely aware that the space between them felt a bit warmer than it had a minute ago. Beneath him, Dib shifted slightly, froze, then freed his arm from around Zim to blindly feel around under the blankets for a moment before coming to a rest. “Er … Zim?” “What?” Zim asked gruffly, still miffed that the movie had managed to startle him as badly as it did. “Did you lose your phone again? Because I’m not getting up this time.” Dib opened his mouth, let out a sort of strangled sigh, then bit the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed. “Did you … uh. Jesus, there is no easy way to ask this …” He pressed his palm to his forehead before spitting out in a single breath, “ Please tell me you just spilled your cocoa. ” Zim turned and raised an eyebrow, holding up his thermos. “No? Why are you—” As he shifted, he finally felt what Dib was talking about, and his eyes went wider than flying saucers. “ Oh my god , Zim,” Dib groaned, taking him under the arms and lifting him away like a badly behaved cat. As he stood up and the blankets fell away, there was no question what had happened. Both their pants were soaked, along with a sizeable portion of the cushion beneath them. Zim stood in a small puddle, dripping and purple-faced with embarrassment. “How did you not feel that??” Dib asked, more baffled than upset. “Everything was already really warm!” Zim insisted frantically. Dib gave him a look that was equal parts worry and horror. “You didn’t even feel like you had to go??” Zim tossed his arms up in frustration. “Do I look like I’m five?” “I’m not trying to be an ass here, Zim,” Dib insisted, trying to tone down his intensity to something Zim would find less offensive. “I just need to know if you had any idea this was gonna happen, before it happened.” “Of course I—!” Zim stopped mid sentence, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t gotten any of the usual signals. Not so much as a twinge. “I mean, I think … fuck.” He stared down at the puddle around his feet. “I … didn’t feel anything,” he finally admitted in hushed tones. Dib pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Shit. Alright. Well, first of all, you’re banned from screwing with your PAK anymore until we sort this out.” Zim shot him a snide expression. “You can’t ban me from fixing my own brain, Dib!” “Until we figure out exactly what went wrong? Yes, I can.” Dib glanced down at his soaked pants with a frown before seeming to give up and start unbuttoning things. “Just take all your clothes off here,” he instructed as he peeled away his wet clothes. “You take everything up to the wash. I’m gonna shower off and run out to the store real quick.” Zim paused in the middle of attempting to pull his socks off, balancing on one foot. “Why are you going to the store?” he asked, suspicious. Dib’s face contorted into something that was somewhere north of innocence and south of pity. Zim scowled back. “Why are you going to the store, Dib ?” he asked, enunciating each word with palpable malice. Dib held up his hands. “It’s just as an ‘in case’ measure, alright?” Zim sucked in a breath and puffed out his chest, blustering and fuming in what Dib could only imagine was very angry Irken. “It was ONE TIME !!!” he finally spat out, incensed. Dib nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Okay … and if it isn’t just one time?” Zim growled something under his breath, fists at his sides. “It might not be related to the issue with your PAK, but if it is, I’d rather be prepared,” Dib said simply. “You’re not putting me in diapers!” Zim snapped. “Fine. No diapers. But I am gonna grab a pack of pull-ups or something, just in case ,” Dib said as he tossed his underwear onto the pile, trying to remain blasé about the whole thing. Which was a difficult thing to pull off while naked and covered in piss. Zim spied Dib’s cock poking out of a thicket of hair and abruptly looked away before he could get distracted. Not to mention, he was vaguely concerned that getting turned on in wet pants might rewire him in an even worse way. He merely crossed his arms and faced away. “I’ll get you some snacks as a consolation,” Dib said as he turned to walk upstairs. “We’re almost out of Fun Dip, right? I’ll get you more of that.” Zim gathered the clothes and blankets and damp cushion with the help of his PAK legs to steady everything. He’d stupidly put his clothes-cleaning contraption upstairs, but at least he’d had the foresight to put it right outside the lift. The stairs were really just for Dib’s benefit. It was the only way the kid got any exercise, some days. Zim pulled aside one of the large speakers beside the TV to reveal the interior of an elevator, and climbed inside with his bundle. He reached the top just as Dib finished hosing himself off in the shower, and got to work loading the machine with all of the damp clothes and blankets. Dib dressed himself in a flash, hurriedly striding towards the stairs before Zim was even finished. “I’ll be back before you know it!” Dib called on his way down. Zim gave only a non-committal grunt. “Text me if you think of anything you want!” “Hmph.” Zim rolled his eyes and slammed the door to the washer shut, irritably poking at the controls until it chimed happily and began chugging away. Zim waited, one antenna perked, until he heard the front door close and lock behind Dib. His human would be gone for at least ten minutes, and ten minutes was all Zim needed to get back inside his PAK and fix this irritating little hiccup once and for all. ii. Dib’s truck rumbled along the road back home, the breeze from the windows making the bags beside him billow and snap. He caught a glimpse of the package contained inside and felt himself blush slightly. Although the situation was embarrassing and slightly worrying when it came to Zim’s overall health, Dib found that he was strangely un-squicked by recent events. Even though Zim had pissed right in his lap, he hadn’t really found the situation all that revolting. If he hadn’t been so shocked at the time, it might have even been a little hot. Zim, caught in an embarrassing situation, dependent on Dib to make things better … Dib shook his head to clear it as he pulled up to the base. He doubted he could get Zim on board with that sort of roleplay. But he could dream, at least. He killed the engine, grabbed his bags, and hopped out of the truck. Scattered leaves blew across his path, catching on the tacky lawn gnomes Zim still insisted stand guard outside. Dib would have been lying if he said he didn’t find Zim’s sense of decor at least a little amusing. He opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m back!” he shouted cheerily, kicking his shoes off. He started towards the stairs, then stopped dead. The whole base was eerily quiet, except for what he’d initially written off as the wind whistling over the roof. But as he stood there, barely breathing, it had begun to sound an awful lot more like sobbing. “ Zim ??” When there was no answer, Dib dropped his bags and raced up the spiraling steps. He came to a screeching halt at the doorway to their bedroom, where Zim was crumped on the floor, sobbing and sitting in a puddle of something that Dib would have bet money wasn’t tears. Nevertheless, Dib rushed over and scooped Zim up, hugging him close. “What’s wrong??” he asked, rubbing the small of Zim’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “I tried to fix it!!” Zim wailed, breath hitching in his throat. “The wires … they were all — hic!! — fused in the wrong spots. I tried to separate them, but … but once I put my PAK back on, it … it shorted out again. And … and when I woke up I — hic!! — I was on the floor and I know I just made it worse!!” Anger swelled in Dib’s chest for a moment, but it was quickly snuffed out by Zim’s obvious upset. There was nothing to be gained by cussing him out for his actions. He was already suffering the consequences. Plus, the sounds he was making were causing Dib heartache like he’d never felt before. All he wanted was to put things right. “It’s gonna be okay,” Dib murmured, hugging him tightly. Zim shook his head, face buried in Dib’s shoulder. “No, it isn’t !! I don’t know what’s wrong but something just isn’t right!!! ” It was hard for Dib to argue. He’d never seen Zim so worked up before. He’d seen him get a little teary over things or sometimes even cry out of frustration, but he’d never dissolved into such a thoroughly inconsolable state before. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can go back to taking it easy, okay?” Dib said softly. Zim took a few shaky breaths in an attempt to get ahold of himself. “Bath,” he finally mumbled, wiping his eyes. Dib was slightly taken aback. Zim usually avoided anything deeper than a puddle like the plague. “I was just gonna let you shower off, but yeah, we can do a bath, if that’s what you want.” He stood up and carried Zim to the bathroom, watching with growing concern as Zim buried his face in the front of his hoodie. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bathtub and turned on the taps, putting his wrist in the stream to gauge the temperature before plugging the drain and gently setting Zim down. “Get settled. I’ll be right back.” Dib made it to the stairs in a few long strides, descending the steps to retrieve two of the bags he’d dropped by the door. On his way back through the bedroom, he tossed one bag onto the bed, then carried the other with him back into the bathroom. He made it back up in time to see Zim adding a hefty amount of bubble bath to the water. “You’re really going all-in on this, huh?” Dib remarked as he put his back against the wall and slid to a sitting position next to the tub. Zim ducked his head nervously. “It smells nice.” Dib leaned on the edge of the tub and reached out to cup Zim’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Yeah, it does. And that means you’ll smell nice when we’re cuddled up together on the couch, later.” Zim pressed against his hand with a soft purr, eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. Dib’s own sad smile slowly faded as the full weight of the interaction started to hit him. He felt like he was talking to a slightly younger Zim. At the very least, a Zim with all the usual sass and salt stripped out. And that had him worried, sure, but the worst part was, he knew full well that some part of him was enjoying the shift. Taking care of a soft, sweet Zim fulfilled some basic need he didn’t even know he had. Zim slowly opened his eyes, and the pink packaging inside the bag suddenly caught his attention. “Do I even need to ask what that is?” he said wearily. Dib gave a weak smile and finally pulled the package out of the bag. The front graphic showed an earth child in a t-shirt and what appeared at first to be purple underwear. It didn't take Zim’s earth-shattering IQ to be able to guess they weren’t that, at all. “I was a bedwetter for way longer than I care to say,” Dib admitted, cheeks going pink. “So I can personally vouch for this brand. Pluuuus ,” he added in a sing-song tone, “they’re purple and pink! Your favorite colors.” Zim stared blankly for a second, then puffed out his cheeks. “Wow, Dib. I didn’t think I could feel any more self conscious about this, but congratulations.” Dib deflated a bit and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, sorry. Just try to remember that it’s not for forever, alright?” Zim opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head, thinking better of whatever he was about to say. Instead, he grabbed a washcloth and thrust it at Dib. “There’s still some milkshake on my back,” he said quietly. “I can’t reach it myself. Can you …? Dib took the washcloth from him, dipped it into the bath water, and gently began cleaning him up. There were strawberries caked along the outline of his PAK, along with the general stickiness coating everything. Zim held uncharacteristically still as Dib worked, merely swirling his fingers in the water and watching the bubble trails. “Are you alright?” Dib finally asked after several minutes of silence. “Yeah, Dib. I’ve always wanted to start pissing myself at random. So, you know. Never better,” Zim replied dryly without looking up. “We could keep trying to fix it, you know,” Dib offered as he poured water down Zim’s back to clean under his PAK. “No,” Zim replied sorrowfully, “it’s not just the wires. Some of the chips are damaged, and they’re not like your computer chips. They’re grown, like crystals. So you can’t just slap a new one in there any more than you can take a slice of your brain and replace it.” He leaned his head against the cool tile, eyes closed. “There are tools to regrow broken chips, but I don’t have them. There’s a chance I could pick up what I need on Vort, but that’s not possible right now because of the political situation.” Dib silently wrung out the washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub. “So you’re …” “Stuck like this for the foreseeable future, yeah,” Zim confirmed, swirling the bubbles around with his finger. “And I don’t even know the full extent of what ‘like this’ is .” “You haven’t been losing any of your other faculties, have you?” Dib asked with a concerned frown. Zim shook his head. “No, I just feel weird. Different.” He pushed the water from side to side, watching the frothy waves bounce around the tub as he struggled to find the words. “Smaller, almost,” he finally whispered. “I just want physical comfort and … simple things. I don’t know …” Dib reached out and put a finger under Zim’s chin, making him look up. “You want me to take care of you?” he asked gently. As he looked into Zim’s eyes, there was no denying that something had permanently shifted. The Zim that sat in front of him seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything about him seemed to cry out for affection, and Dib wanted nothing more than to give it to him. Zim bit his lip nervously before giving a small nod. “Y-yeah. Being taken care of sounds nice.” Dib leaned forwards and kissed him on his forehead, then sat back on his heels. “Good, because that’s what I was planning to spend the rest of the day doing, anyways.” Dib pulled the stopper out of the drain and shook out a fuzzy purple towel as Zim stood up out of the water with a shiver. In one fluid motion, Dib wrapped Zim up in the towel and whisked him up before the alien could protest. Much to his surprise, this got a genuine laugh out of Zim instead of the usual cussing-out. “Man, you are in some rare moods today,” Dib said as he kissed Zim’s cheek. Zim shrugged self-consciously. “I guess …” His blush made his freckles stand out like stars in a dusty desert twilight, and for a moment, all Dib could do was smile and take it all in. “You’re still going to make me put one of those things on, aren’t you?” Zim asked quietly, face falling as Dib set him down on his feet. “Sorry,” Dib murmured, in lieu of saying ‘yes’. “If it had just been the one accident, I wouldn’t push, but, well.” He shrugged apologetically. “Twice is kind of a pattern.” Zim dried himself off slowly, looking over the packaging that claimed the product enclosed “ looks and feels like real underwear! ” It was a bold claim that Zim wasn’t positive would be able to hold up under scrutiny. It also hammered home the fact that Zim was departing the realm of whatever “real” underwear happened to be, and he had no idea if -- or when -- he’d be returning. The uncertainty left a knot in his guts. As Zim finished drying off his legs, Dib ripped one end of the package open and pulled out something that certainly looked more like a diaper than any sort of adult undergarment Zim had ever seen. Dib handed it over and Zim, still skeptical, took it and examined it closer. At least Dib had done his best to get the good colors. But that was really the only bright spot. Zim pulled the stretchy sides wide enough to step into it, then shimmied it up until the padding was flush with his crotch. He wiggled it around a bit, noting the muted crinkle the thing made as he shifted. He looked up to meet Dib’s eyes. “This is a diaper,” he said with a wry look. “It’s just a pull-up,” Dib corrected. “Call it whatever you want, Dib,” Zim said with a sigh as he walked towards the bedroom closet. “Doesn’t really change what it is. You know. I know.” He gestured half-heartedly towards the packaging. “Even those lying marketing executives probably know.” There wasn’t much Dib could say to that, so he gave Zim a sort of well-meaning pat on the head, and went to dig through the dresser for a change of clothes. After changing into some ridiculously fluffy pajamas, they settled in for an afternoon of sugar and scary movies with the hope of taking Zim’s mind of what a disaster the day had been so far. Zim had been concerned that Dib would want to keep a bit of distance between the two of them, but instead Dib seemed to want him as close as possible. Dib tended to be fairly affectionate as it was, but tonight he was all but smothering Zim with his love, cuddling him and preening his antennae. “Normally I’d never say this, because I’m worried you’d rip my face off and wear it as a hat, but you’re really cute,” Dib murmured between cheek kisses. “I wouldn’t kick your ass for that,” Zim said dismissively. “You always assume I want to be referred to in hard, masculine terms, but I’ve never said that.” Dib raised his eyebrows in surprise. “For real?” “Yeah,” Zim said as he snuggled against Dib’s chest. “I’d like it if you called me cute more often.” Dib smiled and hugged him close. “How about adorable?” “Mm-Hmm. That one, too.” “Sweet?” “Literally and figuratively, yes.” “My little bug?” Zim stopped with a Fun Dip stick halfway to his mouth. Those words made all eight ventricles of his heart suddenly flutter so badly, he was momentarily convinced he was experiencing a cardiac event. Dib laughed nervously, “Alright, not that one. Message received.” Zim hunched his shoulders reflexively. “Um. Actually … say that one again?” Dib looked down, trying and failing to read his expression. “What? My little bug?” he repeated cautiously. Zim closed his eyes, a stupid smile spreading across his face. The words were warm and soft, like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a chilly fall evening. “Oh, you actually like that one!” Dib remarked, more than a little surprised. “I thought the silence was because you were too nice to tell me it was stupid.” “I’m never too nice to call you stupid , Dib,” Zim pointed out with a sidelong glance and a barely concealed smirk. “But yes, when you say that, it gives me the warm-and-fuzzies.” “Sure that’s not because you’ve peed yourself again?” Dib said under his breath. Zim gave him a swift elbow to the ribs for his trouble. “Be nice to Zim!” he groused with a scowl as Dib coughed and grabbed his side. “I’ve had a rough day. Asshole.” “ Fuck , I think you broke something,” Dib wheezed as tears sprung to his eyes. “ Good . Think of that next time you decide that making me feel like filthy garbage over something I can’t help is a fantastic idea.” Zim crossed his arms and leaned his way out of Dib’s lap, flopping against the arm of the couch. Well. There he was. That was the Zim that Dib knew and (mostly) loved. Dib rubbed his ribs gingerly, a sinking feeling in his guts. “Hey, I’m sorry, alright?” he offered gently. “I didn’t mean to ruin a nice moment. I … guess I was just trying to be funny.” Zim covered his head with his arms. “It’s not funny, Dib,” he said, muffled. “It’s one of the least funny things to ever happen to me!” His shoulders shook for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. “… especially because it is wet …” he added, so softly that Dib almost missed it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Dib said frantically, standing up and giving Zim’s sleeve a little tug. “C’mere. Let’s go take care of it.” Zim looked up miserably, wiping the corner of his eye on his sleeve. “I can do it myself, Dib.” “I know you can, but I said I was going to take care of you, so come here and let me handle things.” Dib reached down and made a little “up!!” gesture with his fingers. Zim gave an aggravated little snort, but eventually stood up and allowed Dib to pick him up. He wrapped his legs and arms around Dib’s body, clinging like a toddler, face buried in Dib’s shoulder to hide how badly he was blushing. “You’ve got to tell me when you need it swapped out,” Dib admonished gently as they ascended the stairs. “I was comfy,” Zim mumbled. “If that’s seriously the lie you’re going with, I’m gonna start checking,” Dib said with a warning glance. “Do you want that?” “Of course not!!” Zim sputtered. “It’s embarrassing, okay?? I don't want to draw attention to it.” “You know what’s more embarrassing?” Dib asked as he set Zim down on the floor. “Leaking all over me and the couch. Now, do me a favor and hold your shirt out of the way.” Zim sighed and lifted up his shirt as Dib deftly pulled his pants down and ripped the sides on his pull-up to take it off. He set it on the ground and pulled out a pack of wipes from the bag on the bed, then set to work wiping Zim down. It wasn’t as if Dib wasn’t already intimately familiar with all of Zim’s bits. They had a very healthy love life, and one of Dib’s favorite things to do was put his face between Zim’s thighs and absolutely go to town eating him out until Zim’s legs shook and he couldn’t see straight. But there was something altogether different about having Dib clean him up with all the gentle care in the world, absolutely devoid of sexual subtext. Or at least, that’s how it looked . “I’m starting to think you like this more than you’ve let on,” Zim said suspiciously. It was a stab in the dark, but it was also the only thing that explained why Dib seemed so completely unbothered by the whole thing. Dib shrugged. “I guess? Taking care of you kinda hits a special part of my heart just right,” he said with a genuine smile. “I don’t like that you’re in this situation, but as long as you are, I’d love to get to pamper the absolute hell out of you.” “I said no diapers, Dib,” Zim insisted nervously. “I mean I want to dote on you, dummy,” Dib said as he rolled everything up and brought it to the bin on the other side of the room. “Although diapers would make this whole thing easier. You wouldn’t need to take everything off in order for me to change you.” Zim whined as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms. “Not yet,” he said, a pleading tone to his words. Dib came back with a fresh pull-up, sprinkled with what smelled like lavender baby powder. “Suit yourself,” he said, holding the disposable underwear out in front of Zim. “Step into this, and then we’re done.” Zim put a hand on Dib’s shoulder for balance and did as he was told. “So that’s really it?” he asked as he straightened the leg bands on his hips. “You just like coddling me? You don’t have a piss fetish or anything?” Dib didn’t immediately answer, and when Zim looked up, his face was an indescribable shade of red. “ Oh my Tallest ,” Zim said, face falling. “I trusted you!” Dib fiddled with his glasses. “I’m not getting off on this!!” he insisted. A little too intently, Zim thought. “It’s more like … it’s cute??” he attempted desperately. “It’s weirdly emotionally intimate and it just makes me want to cuddle you, okay??” “So none of it is sexual?” Zim asked dryly as he pulled up his pajama bottoms. Dib tilted his head back towards the ceiling and gave a frustrated moan. “Ohhhh my gawd, alright . Look. Let me put it this way,” he said, face still on the red side of pink. “If we were fucking and you … um … you know …” Zim raised his eyebrows. Having a laugh at Dib’s expense was simply too easy. “ No . I don’t know.” Dib ran his fingers through his hair once, and then a few extra times for good measure. “Okay. Okay okay okay . If you … if you were inside of me, and you pissed …” Dib tossed his hands up on either side of him in a greatly exaggerated shrug. “I wouldn’t hate it , alright??” Zim thought for a moment, foot tapping as he watched Dib squirm out of the corner of his eye. “But would you like it ?” he asked, trying not to grin when Dib’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Gah!!! Yes, Zim! Is that what you want to hear??” he yelled. “That I fucking fantasize about having the balls to ask you to piss inside me and then fuck me in it?? ” A smile tugged at the corner of Zim’s face. He’d never seen Dib snap like this before and it was highly amusing. “Holy shit …” he whispered to himself. Dib continued on with his rant, unaware. “Because I do , alright?? I think that would be hot as hell , especially if you told me what a disgusting, perverted freak I am while you do it!!” He stopped gesticulating wildly and dropped his arms, panting. His glasses had nearly slid off his face and his hair was wild. “Are you happy now??? ” Dib demanded as Zim desperately stifled a giggle with his sleeve. “You have no idea,” he replied with a grin. “I’m not taking advantage of this situation, I swear ,” Dib said, still visibly flustered as he fixed his glasses. “You’re cute and I want to take care of you. I just also haven’t stopped seeing you as my partner so, if you want to still have sex…” He trailed off with a hopeful look. “That option is still on the table.” Zim stepped forwards and hugged Dib around the waist. “Good. Because I haven’t stopped enjoying the thought of being inside you.” Dib ruffled his antennae. “Perpetually on the same page. That’s why I love you.” Zim stepped back and made an “up!!” motion with his arms, an expectant look on his face. Dib rolled his eyes, but ultimately reached down to pick him up. “Alright, alright. One more movie, because I can’t say no to that look. But then we’re going to bed for real. It really has been a long day.”
  11. Went to Wal-Mart today and was suprised to find a box of the newly released pull ups designs! both front designs feature mickey on the front and then donald and mickey on the back for the 1st one and goofy and mickey on the 2nd one. I really like the art direction they went with these I just wish it was a different character instead of mickey. I did notice they seemed a little thinner then last years but they do hold a lot more in my opinion ☺️
  12. Quite the embarrassing moment haha
  13. Hey guys, I’ve been experimenting a bit with different cloths over my diaper, I usually wear pull ups to work and diapers at home, and find it great to wear a body or a onesie under my cloths just to keep the diaper well in place! Over that I usually wear some leggings or spandex shorts as I like that my diaper bulge shows a bit hehe... what do you Pfeffer to wear over a diaper or pull-ups?
  14. Well, I have a new story started, a friend of cool content helping me edit, and a ton of nervous energy. I always get a little nervous when I start a new story, and worse so, when I post the first few chapters! Please watch for the Point of View IDs (--- Becca ---) littered throughout the story. It's a first person work told from several points of view. I think this may be a long one so enjoy and let me know what you think! ----------------------------------------------------------- Birch House Chapter 1 --- Becca --- “I’m not parking this far away from the house everyday.” My husband grumbled. “Yeah, this is kinda retarded. If we buy it, you won’t have to.” I agreed flipping my bangs out of my face the jewelry on my wrist clinking together like a wind chime. “We’ll just drive up there and park next time, but we’ll need to get some gravel brought in and make a real lane out of this grownup driveway. We should do a circular drive and make sure Ann’s got a place to park too.” He said calculating volumes in his head. “We’re not pissing off the Finn’s Trent. We’ll park down here by the road until they tell us it’s ok, or we buy it.” I asserted. “All right… All right Babe.” Trent caved not wanting to upset the sellers either. That’s how Trent was though, always planning ahead. He could see things coming before they got to us, and still find creative ways to bitch about it even if he already had a plan to deal with it. I loved trent with all my heart, but his attitude could be an acquired taste. I had been with Trent since I was a little girl… first as a friend and eventually his wife. Trent’s offered me his hand getting out of my car, and I paused to pull my black lace covered skirt back down where it belonged. Stockings are great and all, but the silky lining of my skirt let it ride way up when I got in the car. I may like showing some cleavage and making sure my tattoos are visible, but I didn’t intend to flash my lack of panties to the world. I love teasing Trent, so normally that’s a good thing, but our realtor sure didn’t need to see my lady fur! Regardless of Trent’s attitude problems, I loved him. Not to mention the short walk up the tree lined lane was beautiful this time of year and was doing wonders for both our attitudes. The little forest guarded the edge of the property from view blocking us from our potential neighbors. In fact, it felt like the house was carved out of a small but wild grove of trees. Even the chill in the air because of fall’s cooler temperatures couldn’t mess with my mood. “God I hope we can close this deal. This place fucking rocks.” I squealed clinging to Trent. My hopes rose with each step closer to my would-be-house. My head swiveled admiring the small forest and the well kept yard. It was the fifth time we’d wandered up that path, and I was starting to feel like I was coming home. I wanted that house so badly, but the amount of debt we were talking about was Hella scary for me. Owning a home was going to be an exciting new chapter in our lives. I mean, I was still driving the car my parents bought me when I turned sixteen for fuck’s sake! The only credit I had was a hundred dollar Victoria Secret card! Big spender I was not. Mom would be so proud of me. I wish she were here to see this with me. Drunk ass old fool! I thought sparing an unkind thought for my dad too. Ashley, our realtor, had shown us this property all five times we’d visited. Each time she looked amazing, and she didn’t let me down that day either dressed in a brilliant blue business suit that day. I remember it matched her lovely eyes. The realtor greeted us with bright smiles hugging me tightly like a long lost friend. I admired her for her sense of style even if it was different than mine, but I’ll be damned if she didn’t catch me staring. “The house is nice too. My firm has sold this house a total of six times you know! This will be the second time that I have found Birch House a new family. She’s just an amazing place.” Ashley said over her shoulder as we toured the house taking my attention from her legs. “I still don’t understand the turnover.” Trent implied blind to her appeal. “This house, at its age, in this condition, and at this price point has always been a great deal. She’s always been a great first house or last house depending on your stage of life. Remember, six times over that many years isn’t so alarming.” She said sticking to her tour confidently dismissing his question handling Trents skepticism like a boss. “It looks like everything in here is new!” Trent said getting his first at the like-new old house. I realized she’d given this tour a million times before, and it added a layer of nervous energy to the walkthrough. Her cleavage was distracting me more than Trent, and I bet she dressed up to show off her assets as a tactic too. I shook my head clearing out the unproductive thoughts feeling a bit like a dude at Hooters hoping the waitress really meant all those kind words. I was ready to make an offer, well… mostly. We had our co-signer and our funding all worked out. We were ready to finalize on our latest offer, assuming the property had been improved like the Finn’s had promised. I shook off my uncertainty causing the chain on my ear piercings to make dainty metallic noises that only I could hear. Personally, I thought Trent had a good point, but maybe I was biased? Why would the house have had so many owners? It’s was nerve wracking going into debt like that, and I just needed to be sure. It felt terrifying and exciting at the same time like that time I went bungee jumping. Making a bad deal and going into over a hundred thousand dollars worth of debt was dragging my excitement to the shitter. The house seemed big enough to me... maybe it was just rich-lady-reasons? I sure as hell didn’t any of those! I wasn’t certain why it was only a good house to start or end one’s life, but I bet she had a speech prepared for the question so I just let it go. There were like a million rooms at Birch House. I bet a big family could live here for a good long time, decades even. The listing had it at about eighty years old. Three, maybe four owners seemed reasonable to me, not four before our realtor’s firm and six more after! Ashley skimmed her notes flipping through the thick stack of paper on her clipboard. The current owners had met us here the second time she showed us the place. I couldn’t believe it had only been a few weeks ago. Trent and I had discussed the things we’d like to do to the house to really make it our own after our first visit. It was going to be hard to complete our list since we didn’t have a lot of cash left for improvements. When the Finn’s had asked, it had seemed like a strange question. A question answered cautiously because we were eager to make a good impression. So, we literally gave them a copy of our list hoping for the best. They’d talked to us for quite a while when we met them. The Finn’s stayed so long it began to feel like a job interview! They’d asked what improvements could be made that would help us. Things they could do that would make the house more attractive and let us pay for the improvements over the term of the loan. The Finns freakin awesome! They were clearly still deeply in love with each other and Birch House. That was no small accomplishment after having been married over ten years. We guessed they were in their mid to late thirties at the time. They said they were only moving because Mr. Finn had been asked to head up an office for his company in another state. They said that they absolutely loved the house and honestly hated to leave it. That made more sense to us. It seemed like a good reason to move, but we still felt uneasy after the interview. We had the sense that the whole deal was too good to be true. We still had two months on Trent’s lease and weren’t too worried about finding a place to rent, so we had the time to be patient about our house hunting. His landlord even offered to go monthly on our rent at the end of the lease, so we had that option too. He wasn’t thrilled when we put in our notice. “Good tenants like you kids are hard to find.” Carl had told us reading our letter of intent. Good? Ha! We were the best tenants! We Phillip’s are handy. We’d tackled small home improvement tasks and simply ask off a bit of rent when our landlord was happy with the results. The first few times we’d had to get any upgrades approved, but it didn’t take long to make a good impression. The bathroom tile and marble countertops had made him so happy he’d paid for the supplies and given us rent for free that month. We weren’t afraid of a little elbow grease. In fact, we enjoyed working to make a house a home. Trent’s mom called it nesting. Unfortunately, money was going to be short for a while. It always is after you buy your first home. His mother had warned us, and it turned out she was clairvoyant about our potential lack of cash. There were more out of pocket expenses than we were expecting. We intended to make the repairs to Birch House on our own, and in our own time. Our realtor had insisted on asking about improvements saying, “you never know.” Then the Finn’s turned around and asked us themselves. We felt much better about being asked than doing the asking ourselves. “We’ve asked to meet with all the potential buyers you know. We’ve decided we are backing your offer. Honestly, the Missus just loves you two. Birch House was our first home and we just love it. Is there anything we can do to help you?” Marshall Finn had asked. Turns out the list we’d made at home was just what the doctor ordered. Trent’s forthought helped us out again, but his ego suffered from the triumph. The improvements were part of Trent’s property evaluation process. God, he was so organized it was obnoxious! Our fantasies gave us some goals to work toward and a future to dream of. In the end, the Finns had the list and we left it with them to think it over. “I can’t believe they did all this in two weeks!” I said trailing my black tipped fingers over the new stove while glancing around at the refurbished cabinets. “Well, they must be heavily invested in unloading this place, or they just really liked you two and were prepared to help you out. I think what really motivated them was when you said you’d have to take a renter for the upstairs.” Our realtor commented as she walked. “Rebecca look! They pulled the carpet off the stairs and refinished the old floors! They had to have had people working 24x7 to pull all this off. It’s not like it was in bad shape before, but this… It’s amazing.” Trent’s eyes roamed around the house absorbing details in a state of wonder. “I know. I mean we may want to paint, and I’d eventually like marble on the counters in the bathroom here too, maybe the kitchen. You know how I am about my marble! But, this… is UNREAL. It looks like a brand new house in here!” I gushed bouncing on my toes. “I noticed the shingles were replaced on the way up here. Did they mention any water damage?” Trent asked. “Uh… I have a note here that there was a small leak in the attic. The inspector’s report says there was only discolored sheetrock which has been replaced as well. This is an amazing deal. Brand new roof, that’s a ten thousand dollar value added back.” Ashley insisted redirecting Trent. The woman was amazing! Her word wizardry would leave you eating your own words with confidence. Un...Fucking...Real... “Well, I wouldn’t feel right countering lower than the asking price now. This place is worth way more than they have it up for.” I told them both, my heart investing deeply. “Awe Trent, look they left that rod iron frame up I liked so much. Honey, I just LOVE this place!” I said it and knew I was all in at that point. Our realtor probably felt her commission check weighing down her purse after my blabbermouth. The two story house was priced to move at one-hundred twenty thousand, but with these improvements it was worth around one-eighty easy. The Finns had gone way above and beyond for us. “Well, you can’t go wrong with Birch House. It always sells fast! Owners seem to stay a while or get out in under ten years. Then they move on to something bigger and better if they leave. Maybe it’s good luck?” Ashley shrugged having sussed out my love of the supernatural and superstitious. “There’s only one weird thing. The owners almost always want to meet the buyers before they accept an offer.” She noted certain that this deal was sealed. “But, you guys already nailed that, so I can’t imagine them not signing right away.” “I just want to run around in the yard barefoot and I don’t know… pounce on the couch for a good nap in the sun. These windows are insane! There’s not a smudge on them anywhere. They let in so much light!” I fussed to Trent tugging at his shirt begging him with my eyes. Hell, the grass looks as lush and fluffy as the carpet! “Ashley, you know we are just going to offer their asking price right? See if they will cover the closing costs for us, and we’ll be able to afford the paint right away. If not, we’ll take it anyway and paint in a few months.” Trent tells the realtor confident he’s getting a good deal the confidence sexily wafting off of him. “Oh Trent! Really! God, I really don’t want to leave now. This new carpet probably sleeps better than our bed!” I said bending to rub my hands through the pile on the livingroom floor. I was so wrapped up in the feel of that luxurious carpet that I forgot about my short little skirt. I mooned Ashley with my stocking covered pany-free ass, but she never commented. Girl wanted that commision check! “Ann is going to love it here. She’s always wanted a dog and there’s so much room! I guess we better look over the upstairs and I’ll run through the attic before you call them Ashley. Due diligence and all.” Trent said bounding up the stairs with the hardwood he’d fallen in love with. I stood up and headed over to the only picture still hanging in the house. The current owners had already moved out, and other than their couch and a bed left in a guest room downstairs there wasn’t much left in the house. We really could move in right away, I muse running my finger over the rod iron frame. The same saying hangs in both our parent’s house and Trent’s mom’s place. ‘Love makes a house a Home’ they read. I loved this house already, but that wall hanging really endeared it to me. I was feeling a connection to the house and we hadn’t even signed for it yet! I moved through the living room running my hand along the oak trim framing the doorway. I’ve always loved that quote, I thought leaving the room getting a tactile feel for the place. “Ashley, I’ve never lived anywhere that had an official laundry room before! Trent loves that the hot water heater is in there and accessible too. This place is fucking awesome!” I couldn’t praise Birch House enough! We both knew where I stood. “It is. This is my favorite property. I’d live here myself, but the house is never on the market when I’m looking. Each owner puts their stamp on it of course, but it just seems to add to it’s ambiance not take away. Owners have moved walls or changed things around to suit their tastes, but it always feels so... Homey in here.” Our realtor smiled. “Everything checks out up there Becca. There’s even more impossible renovations upstairs! Ann may want to paint, but there isn’t much reason to do anything else. They even got the sink and some cabinets in the third room. Hell, there’s room for one of your Exes up there too babe.” Trent joked. “Just be glad I like that girl so much. You really did a number on her. The poor thing.” I slapped at Trent giving him a hard time on a stale joke. “Rebecca Phillips! I was like fifteen er something! That was friggin years ago! I didn’t even know we were going steady. I had no idea going to the movies with Wendy was cheating on her! Cut me some slack! We are all adults and friends, best friends even! I don’t think of her as an Ex!” Trent looked tired of the old one sided argument, but I thought it was funny and so did Ann. He was still sensitive about it though. “Then don’t joke about it if you can’t take it. Ann can. You can’t, ya cheater!” I teased Trent even more. “I’d never cheat on you.” He whispered pulling me to him. “You don’t think that do you?” He asked. Ashley cleared her throat, “Becca, you had better be one hundred percent sure. Buying a house, married or not, has legal obligations that follow you even if Trent doesn’t. I can’t make your offer unless I’m sure you’re sure. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, even if my job is to sell the house and move on.” “Oh Trent! Your stupid jokes have scared Ash. Go measure something or look at man stuff!” I huffed at him swatting him on the ass dismissing him so the Big Girls could talk. His shoulders told me that he didn't’ appreciate that very much, but Trent ambled outside grumbling about girls being confusing. I watched him walking across the covered front porch and disappear from my view. We waited long enough to be sure he was truly out of earshot. I waited more for Ashley’s sake than for my own privacy. “Ash, you are totally safe making this offer. Trent may be gone a lot, but I see his checks. I know when he’s gone, how long he’s paid for, and I have ways of accounting for his time. The lady that does payroll showed me, Barb. We were at a company picnic and I told her I was uncomfortable with all the weird hours cause truthfully, I’m a little insecure and needy. I’m sure he worries about all those hot young college guys when I’m at class too.” I admit. “Oh, I know what you mean. I’ve been married for years and have zero reasons not to trust my husband, but it’s just so rampant, the cheating. I get worked up sometimes.” She reassured me shrugging her shoulders. “He never really cheated on Ann either. She just felt that way at the time. Neither one of them had dated before, and didn’t know any of the rules. It was hard for her for like two weeks then she was over it, and that was literally years ago. If you ever meet her just know Trent didn’t make her the way she is. She’s just a timid little thing and I love her to death. Trent does too, but we love her in a sisterly way. She’s older than both of us, and we’ve all been good friends since we were in diapers.” I assured her. “Ok, well I feel a bit better. Backstories always help a sale, ya know! Go let the heartbreaker and bring him in the house. Just remember. Everyone loves Birch House. It always feels like Home in here. Don’t be the first ones in like eighty years to bring bad things to this place.” I could feel Ashley’s love for the house and the warning in her threatening tone. Her deep care for the place anchored my feelings. Love grew in my own heart too. I was in love with my future first home! This house would be our Home. I was absolutely confident that Birch House would meet our needs and maybe even see the pitter patter of little feet bounding around. Trent and I walked hand in hand back down the lane to our car talking so fast we had trouble keeping up with each other. Birch House Chapter 2 Trent and I brought Ann to Birch House four days later. --- Ann --- I’m buying a flipping-stinking house! Daddy is going to be so proud! I said to myself while getting out of my jeep. I can’t believe I’m buying a frigging house! I shivered in excitement. “OMG! Girl! I can’t wait to show you OUR new place!” Becca yelled getting out of my jeep. She ran around my jeep bounding over to get me. Her silver bracelets and rings clinking against each other making her sound like a wind chime. “I know sweety. Look, calm down a bit. You’re spazzing!” I laughed hugging her lightly. I placed my hands on her shoulders to hold her to the ground. She looked at me with her large chocolate colored eyes opened widely, “I’m sorry… I just never bought a house before.” “That’s ok hun! Me neither! I’m excited too. Point those puppy dog eyes somewhere else! I really need a place anyway, like tomorrow!” I noted worried more about my own circumstances than buying a house. In fact, buying that house with my best friends was an answer to a prayer. “Ann, I’m so glad you’ll be moving in with me. Really I am. Not even kidding! I was going to be so fucking lonely! Trent’s driving would do me in I’m sure of it. You’ll get the entire upstairs to yourself so you can hide from me. You’ll have like everything up there. It’ll be your own apartment or something. OH. MY. GOD. I’m fucking freaking out.” Excitement spilled from Becca while she shook her hands animatedly grabbing at my elbows. “So they accepted the offer then?” I asked her taking her hands. “Yeah, the Finns accepted at their original asking price, like right away. Trent is freaking out too! He says it’s a steal! He’s prolly gonna be on the phone all day.” My friend babbled while tugging at my arms pulling me toward the house. “I’m sorta afraid it’s too good to be true.” I admitted looking down at her. For the millionth time, I pondered how badly that piercing in her nose must have hurt. She has a tiny silver ring in her septum that just hangs low enough to have a bit of movement. The dainty little diamond high in her left nostril fits tightly against her skin and barely catches the light. Becca was always modifying herself, but I liked her nose the best. Me? I’m a big wuss. I don’t like pain. I have one set of ear piercings to her many and nothing else pierced to her many other piercings. I have it on good authority Becca’s face isn’t the only location with non-biological holes! Just the thought of her pierced flower gave me a serious physical shiver. No way in a hairy dolphin will I ever get my lady bits pierced! I promised myself after that stray thought filtered through my mind. “Yeah, I can’t shake that feeling either… Only just a tiny bit though! They even paid the closing costs and shit. We are moving in on the down payment only, that’s nuts! We can cover that together no problem! You’re amazing by the way! Have I told you that today? We couldn’t do this without you.” Becca says turning around swiftly and stretching up to kiss my cheek meaning I had to bend down cause she pulled me to her. I loved Becca, but I’m a very introverted person. Hugs were the most contact Becca and I had shared and those were infrequent bro-hug type thingies. My childhood was sort of difficult. My parents were great, but my health wasn’t. I ostracized myself from the outside world and only went out when I had to. Trying to date my neighbor Trent had been Mom’s idea. I over invested and it sort of crushed my will to date for a while. Mom’s therapist (I refused to call her my own) said I have a social anxiety disorder. I thought I just like being alone, but I don’t have a Doctorate in what other people think so I got ignored. The kiss was new for us. I didn’t know what to do with it, but my hand drifted up to my face touching the trace of heat her lips had left. “You know, I only have a few days before I have to be out of my apartment. It stinks that I’ll have to move twice.” I complained. “Ah. You’ll only be a couch bum for a couple days. Maybe a couple weeks tops. We are happy to have you.” Becca reminded me of her offer to let me bunk on their couch at Trent’s apartment. “Uh... I decided to stay at the La Quinta Becks. They have a suite and I booked it for seven days. They gave me a good rate, and I’m not hurting for money. Besides, I don’t want to squash the newlywed vibe you two have going on.” I told her following her up to the house. “Awe, really? That’s no fun!” She huffed. “We’ll be all up in each other’s business before you know it. I’m excited. I’ll get more room for about the same money with this house. This move is a no-brainer for me babe.” I said looking down at her. “I may have bought it without you guys if I’d have been brave enough.” “I’m sorry they sold your building, but I’m not sorry to move in with my best friend!” Becca laughed hugging me tightly resting her head on my chest. “Your tall today.” Becca commented looking down at my hikers then back up at my face. “I’m always tall, and your always short!” I giggled and took a turn dragging her a few steps toward our new home. Becca took the lead guiding me around the backside of the house. She was a touchy-feely chick, but today she was a bit over the top. She’d always been that way, and it had been hard for me since I was a pre-teen. I’d dealt with the touching because I trusted her though. She was my first real friend after we’d moved when I was eight. I trusted Becca to get a good feel for the house just like I trusted Trent’s handi-maness to determine if the house was sound. The Lord knows I couldn’t do either! I giggled to myself. You have a certain set of skills… and house buying isn’t one of them. I thought in my best Liam Neeson impression. I hate getting out of the house, and college was just torture for me. My freshman year they made me live in the dorms! With people! I’d fallen into a light depression that year, but I had pushed through my problems and gotten my degree. I don’t really like to be touched, looked at, talked to… Fine. I’m a hermit. Dating was was even worse than living with strangers! It’s not that I enjoyed being alone, but guys just didn’t understand when I needed time alone. I just never really clicked with any of them. They couldn’t give me my alone time. Eventually, I gave up on dating altogether. I worked from home, shopped from home, ate at home, and gamed from home. I had a few friends and a truly lovely family. I just didn’t feel the need to get involved with humanity beyond that. “Look! Look!” Becca shouted as we rounded the house treading on a newer looking stone path. “Oh My stars!” Was all I could say. It was beautiful and I was left standing there dumbfounded. The back of the house looked very different from the pictures that Becca had shown me. There was a patio off the back door maybe three feet or so off the ground accounting for the grade of the hill. That wasn’t the only change though. Four humongous pillars rose from the patio on each of it’s corners. They were supporting another deck. I looked up at the bottom of the upper deck… my deck? There were two new decks, an upper and a lower, off the back of the house! I followed Becca, well got dragged by her, up a beautiful set of stairs. The dark wood had a tinge of red in the stain and was finished immaculately. The handrail was so smooth that when I ran my hand along it, I had no fear of splinters. “B...Becca! Do I really have my own outside access?!?” I stuttered in disbelief. “Yeah, Trent put that on the improvement list right at the top just for the hell of it. Look at this shit! They actually had it done!” Becca gushed literally jumping up and down. “I… I can’t believe it. It’s… so perfect.” I gaped reaching out to touch my own door. “Girl, just wait till we go inside! I don't’ have this key, but look it’s like a real balcony up here!” She giggled turning around to look at the yard. She drug me back around to the front door, but I had a hard time leaving my deck because it was cute and the view was amazing. I was already imaging watching the sunset out here. It looked like I’d have to see the first floor before I had the chance to see my floor though. The Finns had really put in a lot of effort for us, for me. I couldn’t believe all the work that had been done. It was nothing short of amazing. I was that much closer to a new dog. I was thrilled. All the woods in the house were all rich and dark where the walls were a complimentary lighter color. I was sure my little spaz of a friend would end up repainting a few rooms because her tastes are… her own? “Becks I’m pretty happy right now. I’m just so glad you and Trent finally have your own place, well you know mostly your own. I feel like I’m invading though, but I promise I’m like a recluse or something! I won’t mess with your newlywed vibe.” I told her trying to get her to slow down. “Pish! Trent will be on the road a lot, most of the week really. He may start taking some overnight runs or sleeping in his truck. They pay a crazy wad of cash for those two-day runs. We have my car, but he wants to get a bike for running back and forth to work. With you here, I won’t be alone when he’s off being the Man of the House!” Becca said growling in a low voice. “Trent could use some butching up ya know. Those truckers are going to eat alive with that metro head of hair and total lack of man-beard. He looks like a teenage boy… If he carried a hipster bag, they’d probably beat the poop out of him on the spot.” I laughed. “Hey! That’s MY metro-man you’re mouthing there.” Becca put up a token defense of her husband, but lacking in real conviction. She drew up to her full height, which unfortunately for her was just shorter than your average girl. It always makes me giggle when she gets her back up and I still have to look down at her. She looked at me with death in her eyes and then broke laughing hysterically. She hugged me in our shared excitement as we headed upstairs together. It was time to see my floor! There was a small landing upstairs and then a weird shaped hallway. I couldn’t see from one end of the floor to the other, but I’d noticed that in the pictures before. I was already figuring out how to divide up the rooms to create a full house on the second floor. I wanted a nice bedroom suite and there was a beautiful humongous master bedroom suite on this floor on the east wall. I wanted an office, guest room, and a pretend kitchen/dining room. Then I’d have a full apartment on this floor, but this house wasn’t built with that in mind. It did have a dedicated bathroom on this floor that could be a guest bathroom, so that was nice. There was plenty of rooms for the other stuff I wanted to do and I’d get around to it all eventually. “Look it! They put in an outside door on the landing!” She said her platinum hair and purple braids bouncing off her shoulders. The purple braids were tipped with silver skull-face hair ties. “I see. This is super amazing Becks! I can’t believe this. It’s almost like this floor has been remade into a real apartment. I’ll be able to take out a dog and not bother you!” I stood there shocked all over again excitement building. “I know! We’ll love your dog, but I’m glad you can do that out your own door. Just… you know walk it away from the porch a ways.” Becca admitted. “I promise Becks. I’ll do the poop bags and everything.” I agreed. “We told the Finns that we couldn’t afford the place all on our own. Ashley let on like they thought we had to get a renter. I thought she’d look our financial paperwork closer than that.” Becca told me shrugging like it was the realtor’s loss. “So... She knows I’m a co-signer right? I mean I’m covering most of the down payment and all the taxes.” I asked. “I guess, I’m sure she does by now at least. Worst case, she’ll find out at the closing won’t she?” Becca laughed. “It’ll be nice to meet the Finns at least the once.” I admitted. “Let me show ya the rest, there’s more.” Becca’s silver bracelets clacked together as she clapped her hands bounding off once again. Rebecca Phillips is my best friend, but she was just coming out of her goth phase. I was thrilled for that! Goth was preceded by a punk phase, and I for one would love to see the end of all the leather and silver buckles. The punk stuff came after her stab at grunge in her senior year. Japanese culture influenced most of High School before the grunge phase. The entertaining part of my besty is that none of the phases were ever totally left behind. They all left a mark on her eclectic sense of style. I bought her several of those noisey bracelets over the last few years. The purple streaks in her hair were left over from our junior year when two toned hair was her thing. Well, at least the punk and goth phases shared a lot of the same clothes! Goth just added a ton of dark makeup to the mix, at least that’s for the most part how it worked for Becca. I don’t know, there may be a few more piercings these days. I giggled to myself looking at her. Strangely, I found myself doing it much more frequently than I used too. I refocused on my wind chime sounding friend and the tour she was giving. It turned out one of the room’s had been upgraded just for me! There were some basic cabinets making a bar against one wall. They had installed a small overhead cabinet on one end and a fridge on the opposite wall. It immediately reminded me of a workplace break room. The only stuff I’ll have to do downstairs is oven stuff and my laundry! I notice unable to fight back my own sniffles suddenly overwhelmed by the Finns’ thoughtfulness. “Good gracious Becca, this place is amazing! I can’t get around how perfect this house is. I can’t believe they even got a fridge up here. It’s ridiculous!” I gush. “I know! Trent keeps coming over here looking for flaws. Poor guy has a bit of a glass-half-empty complex. It can be hard to keep him happy.” She giggled her hand resting on my arm. ----- I’m a few years older than Trent who was a few years older than Becca’s twenty. Twenty-four wasn’t ancient or anything, but I was the college grad with a few years of working and life under my belt. I would always be the oldest in our house. I loved Becca, but we’d never lived together, and I certainly didn’t have the upper hand in relationship edicate. I had few relationships and even fewer long term friends. Was all this touching normal? I asked myself trying to fight off the sense of invaded space she was stirring up. That day though, we both gushed and giggled about moving into our new house. We talked a lot about the new appliances and discussed colors for our walls. The owners were going to leave the couch and one bed in the guest bedroom downstairs until we closed, then it’d be a flurry to get all our crappy furniture in that beautiful house. ----- All the banking was done, so we were ready when Closing Day came around a few weeks later. All we had to was sign on the dotted lines. We were filled with nervous energy while Trent remained aloof standing with his arms crossed through most of the meeting. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. Admittedly, I could afford the house on my own, and I wouldn’t have co-signed with my friends if that weren’t the case. Plan for the worst case scenario! Dad was worried life would smack me and leave me in a lurch so I never got in over my head. I planned to squirrel away the difference that the Phillips would be covering so I had my budget worked out for worst case. Plus I needed to rebuild my savings after the down payment. Becca and I crashed on the downstairs couch as the sun was setting the evening after we closed on the house. Trent had to leave running his first night load. So, we were alone to celebrate in our new house. The view was amazing through the full windows on the west side of the house. We were nestled in watching the oranges and reds while she sipped a beer and I nursed at a sweet tea. Becca, being so short, could only lean her head against my shoulder, but it was comfortable and so was the silence in the room. She took a pull off her beer and looked up at me with her big chocolate brown eyes. She whispered, “I couldn’t do this with anyone else ya know.” “I know Becks. I get it. You don’t have to tell me. Seriously, it’s not charity. You guys really bailed me out here. If you can stand me for a couple years, you’ll be out of school and you won’t need me any more.” I pat her leg letting her know I wouldn’t intrude forever. Her body language changed immediately. She sort of shrank in on herself and sat up separating herself from me. A shadow crossed her face and her hands quickly covered her eyes. Soft sobs wracked her body and her pale shoulders bobbed keeping time with the crying. “Shit Ann. I’m sorry.” She sniffed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, you are literally the only reason we can get this place!” “Oh Becks…” I started honestly confused. Becca cut me off, “No, it took both our credit ratings and you as a cosigner. I just meant please, please, please put up with us for a few years before your life sweeps you out of town. I’ll be ready to help with the bills then. Part-time just doesn’t cover much. Maybe I’ll be ready to let you go by then too.” I turn to do something I have never done before, something that had never occured to me before. I kissed the top of her head. Poor thing, I thought as she tugged me into a side hug burrowing into me. I’m never going to want to leave. I don’t want to get swept away with life or my carrier. I thought to myself not finding the words or the will to say anything. Becca was one of the coolest outgoing people I knew, but she seemed so fragile right then. One day I’d find out what had her so worried, but on that day I attributed it to the stress of debt and moving. “Sorry Becca. I get it. I guess I thought this might be long term thing. You know ‘Crazy Aunt Ann’ living upstairs taking care of your kids in the evenings so you two could do stuff together. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, I’ll stay long enough for you to finish school… long enough you won’t need me.” I whispered. “Shit! Damn! Ah Hell Annie. That’s N-O-T what I meant. You better bet your ass that you’ll be crazy Aunt Ann! We may need one of those rooms eventually. Trent wants to ruin my body with at least two kids. There’s only the one spare room down here unless we give up our office.” Becca rushed. “Sorry. I just… Well… Poop. Becks they are tearing down my building! I can’t catch a break anywhere. I thought you were telling me I wasn’t going to be welcome in a few years. I… it’s... I’m sorry.” I sniffed. “Such a potty mouth on such a pretty face.” Becca joked turning my words against me over my pseudo cussing. She got up on her knees and returned my kiss leaving my face uncomfortably close to her cleavage. I sprung up and drug her to the master bedroom on the second floor. My bedroom had a beautiful attached bathroom. It looked like my bedroom was a bit bigger than theirs and i secretly loved that. Buying the whole floor for half the house payment was a steal for me, but I wanted to cheer Becca up. “Your’s and Trent’s room is almost as big as his whole apartment. Plus, it’s on the opposite side of my outside entrance.” I pointed out. “Yeah, it’s a big fucking upgrade from my dorm room!” She bursted out laughing. “This is a huge upgrade for me too! Potty mouth.” I asserted. We moved to what I thought would be my guest room, “Well, the second room downstairs could be the boy’s room. You don’t want those yard apes too close to your room though. Too much rough housing in there. Then you’d have the kid’s bathroom, and then girls room up here if we had to. You know in the future.” “Or you could keep your office if I have two boys or two girls. Since you live up there, you’d have to take care of em if I put any spillover kids upstairs. Maybe we could put that baby monitor receiver in your room!” She teased. “You’re breastfeeding aren’t you!” I blanched looking mortified. No way I wanted to get up at night! “Hell, I don’t know! That’s at least after college and the first year of work or so!” Her face scrunched. “I have to wait like three FLIPPING years to live vicariously through your motherhood!” I mock panicked. “OMG! You’re going to have to get a handle on that fucking mouth before you burn my poor baby’s ears off with your verbal filth!” Becca teased me. “Why I never! My momma would probably spank me to this day if she caught me talking like you! Those poor babies!” I giggled. We broke off in a fit of laughter. Becca hugged closely to me as we walked back into her room hip to thigh. It was a big impressive room too. I really liked her room, but it was the view I was in love with even if my room was a bit bigger. I was truly happy for her and thrilled to be sharing the house with her. She ran a hand down my hair and stepped away from me taking my hand again. More touchy-feely boundaries were broken that day than in both of my previous dating relationships! I didn’t know what to do. I already loved Becca, but I didn’t see other people behaving like this with their friends. Course, one has to leave the house to see other people... Going to have to hit the internet for some research. I’m not sure if I should be offended or not. Still, it’s nice to be this close to someone. I decided. “God we can do anything in here! It’s so huge!” She said sounding like she was in a bit of a weird mood. “I could fit my whole dorm room in here fridge and microwave and everything!” Becca pointed out. “I won’t have an oven upstairs, but I don’t cook much so that wouldn’t be a problem!” I said getting truly excited. “Well, you’ll be eating downstairs with the family anytime I cook.” Becca asserted. “Bah you cook all the time! I’m going to wear out my welcome!” I worried. “Honey, you can’t wear out your welcome. You know why? It’s because your family, and I love you!” She reminded me. “I don’t wanna mess up the whole newlywed humping like rabid bunnies vibe you two have.” I giggled. We left Birch House in a good mood having spent some time in it dreaming of our futures. We headed over to Becca and Trent’s place and grabbed the boxes Trent had brought home for packing. It was enough boxes to move a whole house of people. Becca ran into PIzza Hut for a hot and ready pizza on our way to my hotel. The Packing had started. “Ok, Let’s pack this shit!” She giggled grabbing a piece of ham off the top of our pizza. “Oh I give up! Wish I had something to shove in your mouth so you wouldn’t foul up my air!” I said laughing at her potty mouth. “I’m sure I’ll spontaneously stop cursing as soon as the house is packed with diapers and pacifiers… Till then, Fuck Off!” She cackled at herself. “Let’s watch a movie or something while we pack.”  
  15. Marta

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    From the album: Me

    © Marta

  16. Marta

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    From the album: Me

    © Marta

  17. Marta

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    From the album: Me

    © Marta

  18. Marta

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    From the album: Me

    © Marta

  19. Part 1 Hi this will be different to most stories here I think and I would like to emphasize that there will be no "daddy" role here I will try to keep it as "realistic" as possible with the hope that people like this do exist out there . Wetting diapers etc will be plenty humiliation and abuse however only in flashbacks hope you will like it ps sorry for the bad English Court house ND Sunday 4:30 pm fall Chris Reynolds sat on a bench looking at the kid questioned by the judge . "My god " - he thought - "how did this ever happen. 2 months ago someone would have told me I have a kid running around I would have laughed . But this is insane. This can't even be happening ." He was mad. At whom he wasn't sure . Himself ? He should have made sure that 1 time before he enlisted with his childhood sweetheart didn't lead to anything . But really what guy keeps track of what happened to a girl he dated when he was 17? His fathers family ? Well all they ever did was lie. So he found out when he turned 18 and his long dead mother showed up at his boot camp. Patricia ? She could have bothered to tell him she was pregnant with his child ! Sure she was only 16 and probably under the influence of his family . The thoughts raced through his mind but something in the sadness of the brown eyes of that child wouldn't let go of him . He can't be a father, he never wanted to be one. He had his carrier succeful actor. Hollywood loved him . This could easily ruin him. His lawyer , also one of his closest friends told him that the minute the paternity test came back positive . But still something in him just couldn't sit there and watch. He knew if he wouldn't do something he will never live with himself . " I m sorry your honor , but maybe I have a better solution " - he stood up looking at the woman in the cape who looked rather annoyed than happy he disrupted her sentencing . "What the hell are you doing ?! Are you crazy sit the hell down " - Theo wishpered angrily , his loyal lawyer who sat quietly by his side tried to pull him back down to the bench but he wouldn't budge . "Yes Mr Reynolds ? What solution is that you claim to have for us " the woman's voice was rather strained but Chris was not the type to break a sweat over a woman's annoyance , no matter her status. " with all the respect he is barely 13 even detention centers require the minimum age of 14 . I m not saying he didn't commit crimes he should be punished for . But he is just a child . And all of this is more the systems fault and mine than his . " "So you are blaming the system for the fact that a 13 year old stole money disrupted someone's home and ..." "no your honor I m not just blaming the system I m also blaming myself but with all due the respect calling the police on a child looking for his mother is hardly disrupting a property " " so you are a lawyer as well now mister Reynolds as you seem so familiar with the laws " " no your honor I m not all I m saying simply is that I don't find the current solution of sending a child to a severe detention center because the system is over loaded . And that sentence is one that I m sure the appeal we will file won't agree with it " "appeal ? What are you talking about ? You can't threaten a judge you are out of your mind !" - Theo jumped to his feet "alright I will allow that however like I said I have no alternative " - the judge sighed though looked as if she rather sentence him too to prison " I think you will find there is. Release him to my custody " silence fell upon the court room . The judge studied the man standing before her . Determined for sure . Theo looked as if he couldn't believe what Chris just said . The kid turned his tear stricken face towards the man he for a few weeks now known is his biological father . "Release him to your custody ?" - the judge repeated as if retarically " my parental rights have never been revoked nor have I ever given them up. The social services did a complete background check I m sure it's in the files" the judge turned some papers infront of her unwillingly and had to agree . There was no reason the man couldn't get at least temporary custody over the child . And she had to agree releasing a child to the custody of a parent would seem much less harsh than back to detention where by law he would only be sent to under special Circumstances under which no empty beds in children's home not exactly fell under. "Your honor , this child is not a simple case " - Katherine the social worker spoke up in clear dislike " he can not just be released into a hands of a man who never had a child before and has absolutely no qualification to deal with a child with these behavioral problems " "I m sorry so my lack of parental experience should be compensated by locking him up in a closed facility where you send teenagers who murdered people ?" "Alright alright that's enough ! " the judge spoke up " I want order in my court room . God what a mess this is ! Alright alright let it be . I will allow a probation period . But if he gets into anymore trouble with the law it is straight detention ! " " I find that very reasonable your honor . Thank you " Chris smiled at the judge as he sat back down next to Theo who buried his head in his hands. " well I don't find this reasonable at all ! - Kathrine spoke up angrily -" he has been moved through 2 homes and 3 foster families and a detention center ! How exactly do you think you could control him ?! "- then with a smirk she added - " have you even changed a diaper in your life mr Reynolds ? Because in case you haven't noticed that is 1 more thing your son can not control " Chris felt his temper rise as he saw his sons face turning from pale to beet red. It wasn't hard to tell he was indeed wearing" protection" . But clearly announcing that out loud made him increadbly uncomfortable . " I will assure you ms Jenkins I have handled a lot worse serving in a war." Chris said in a measured voice "that is enough ! I m releasing Christian Patrick West to your custody . I want social services to reevaluate this arrangengment in a month I m sure you can handle that ms Jenkins with your superiors . Well good luck . Court adjourned ! " "do you have any idea what you have just done ?! "- Theo asked in an angry whisper. "This could ruin your entire carrier !" "Shut up Theo for real " Chris wishpered back as he made his way towards Katherine and his son . There was something about those brown eyes he couldn't quite make out . He seen it before overseas , fear . The child was clearly scared . Katrine looked clearly angry. She didn't seem to like him since the moment he wanted to get visitation rights. "Alright well I m all ears please do tell me how to proceed . " Chris said though politely but his glance which caught hers was rather self assured . Christian or Tee as every1 called him stood next to them rather uncomfortable . Uncomfortable for several reasons . He was going to have to go and stay with a man he didn't really know but his size and strength predicted nothing good from his experience . Secondly he had to stand by and listen to his social worker go into embarrassing details of his problems. 1 of which he was experiencing on his own skin . The cloth diapers he was wearing were soaked by now uncomfortably cold too as they clung to his skin . Chris stood and pretended to patiently listen to the seemingly endless list of behavioral problems out of which bed wetting lying shoplifting were only a few to mention but hard to really believe when looking down at the child infront of him . He hasn't entered the rapid have of puberty yet based on his height . He seemed much more like a child than a teenager. " Alright then Wednesday after school we will be at the family sevices center" Chris sealed the conversation smiling . Katherine shook his hand unwillingly . " let's go then" - Chris turned to Tee laying 1 hand over his shoulder strearing him out of the court house towards the parking lot . As he touched him he felt him quivering . Tee was surprised by the tone. Chris's voice was pleasant as if this would be normal . No one used that tone with him. Not without that strange gleam in the eyes before the belt hit him or something even worse. But when he glanced up quickly Chris's eyes looked though a bit warn out but no sign of malice. Car ride Sunday later Tee was hunched up on the back seat Chris occasionally glanced back and the feeling of a new unknown pain hit him every time he did . What could have that kid been put through to be desperate enough to steal and set out on his own to find his mother . How heartless can a mother be to call the cops on her own child ? Did he really misjudge characters so badly ? For a moment he got worried . He was sure Patricia was his first real love but now it seemed evident she never loved him if she had how could she treat his child like that . But if he was so wrong judging her and his fathers family for so long could he possibly be wrong about Tee? Maybe the reports are correct and he only seems lost hurt and innocent ? - so now what is the plan ? - Theo asked rather cynically starring straight ahead from the passenger seat and though he didn't look at him Chris felt his anger Chris glanced to the backseat and though saw no reaction from Tee but he was sure he was listening to every word . - well getting late so I guess we could pretty much call it a night - Theo snorted in anger but Chris wouldn't let that interrupt him - I guess pizza will do for dinner ? - no one seemed to answer so he went on - alright then pizza it is . But first I think we will have to make a stop as the car stopped the sign medical supply store seemed to twinkle in bright yellow like the starts in the sky . For a minute none of them moved . Chris and Theo exchanged glances . Theos seemed to say well this was your brilliant idea then go figure it out . Chris took a deep breath before slowly turning to the back seat - I don't suppose you know what size you ... Need Tee didn't look up just shook his head in defeat . He knew what was coming next . He lived through the humiliation of "supply" shopping with his previous families . Though it was done by the women he didn't think the next 10 minutes to even over an hour would be any less humiliating than it was then . Especially since now he was a teenager rather than a child . Chris held on the strearing wheel trying to plan his next move . Diapers weren't exactly his thing . Won't be the first time he had to change one, he was a loving uncle willing to babysit occasionally but even with his twin nieces he never dealt with something larger than an infant . But based on Katherine's description changing diapers will be his task . He had to admit he wasn't quite sure of the reason . The age itself would have qualified for self diapering . Or that just wasn't a thing ? He will definetly have some googling to do ... He shot one glance to the backseat - alright I will be back . Tee didn't move. Didn't even unbuckle his seatbelt as if trying to put off the inevitable. He heard the radio channel being changed but no opening of the backseat door . He looked up puzzled . Chris was not in the car or near the car . He must have gone into the shop . The sign was clear he was sure he was even in this particular one before more than once even . Yes the first time was 2 years ago . When his last foster family took him . He clearly remembered the sign it was shining bright yellow even though it was bright daylight . He took a sharp breath as the memories washed over him . Maybe that was the moment he started to realize that family won't love him for real either . He remembered the condicending smirk look of the sales lady Jane or Janine was her name ? He remembered begging Martha his foster mother not to make him go . He promised he would work harder not to wet the bed. But she said his 1 week was up , he lived with them for a full week now and he couldn't keep his bed dry . - get out of the car ! I don't have time for your whining ! I told you 1 week I even gave you an extra night you are making me regret not giving you the belt this morning ! - Martha made no effort to keep her voice down in the parking lot . He got out of the car not daring to anger her more . His foster father Terry's belt marks were still prominent on his body from a couple of mornings ago . He knew he best avoid any extra punishment he still couldn't lean back in the car from the last belting . The sales lady was smirking the moment they entered as if she knew or sensed before she was told , Martha had no intentions of being discrete about the purpose of their visit . - what can I help you with ? - well my foster son - it hurt him even then to hear the emphasis that he wasn't her real son - can't seem to keep his bed dry , they warned me about that at the home but I was too naive to listen . Well too late now. So we will be needing diapers . And cheap ones . I m not spending a penny more than I ought to ! - very well ma'am follow me I can show you what options we have of course each was worse than the other and the deliberation took what seemed to him as forever till Martha settled for clothes ones since those could be reused . - and making him wash them will teach him a good lesson about how much work they are - the sales woman put in - what a brilliant idea - Martha agreed delighted - now you will of course need plastic pants to go with it to keep the bed dry . These are quite reasonable priced . What color would you like ? - she held up a pink ruffled 1 up teasingly but Martha's choice was just as humiliating - how about that yellow one ? Pee color isn't it ? - she added laughing and just when he thought things couldn't get any worse ... - do you know how to use them ? - actually with my children I used disposables but that was years ago . They are properly potty trained - Martha gave him a stern look - I will be more than happy to show you if you like. Does he have any daytime accidents too ? - well so far only twice but who knows - in that case perfect ! Keep him in diapers until he learns to keep them dry ! Here follow me and I will show you how to put them on he felt his cheeks go hot red just remembering a complete stranger stripping him and demonstrating how to put on his new diapers . It felt like it was real at that moment though he knew he was 11 then but he was sure that having Chris change his diapers won't be more pleasant . He got somewhat stronger in the past 2 years but he was no match to Chris . Even if he didn't use his belt . his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the trunk being slammed he realized that Chris has returned to the car . What items he purchased ? He couldn't tell but he was sure it won't take long for him to see first hand . - whats with all the bags ? Did you empty the whole store ? - Theo asked but Chris just rolled his eyes and started up the car
  20. (This is a small colab i'm doing with PinkTheDinosaur. Just a small side project for the both of us to do during our free time. This story contains sexual themes so if that is not your thing please leave.) “Come on Melissa, Please!” Kari begged. “Fine, but only for a bit,” Melissa said annoyed at her best friend. “But you do know Hypnosis is fake right?” “Well see!” Kari yelled excitedly as the 7-year-old turned off the lights and pulled out a lighter. Kari had her friend look at the flame and began trying to put Melissa into a trance. After 2 tries, Kari had done it! Melissa stood there, staring blankly at the flame and slightly drooling. Kari had no idea what to do now that her friend was like this. But she had to test it out. “Melissa, suck on your thumb,” Kari told her friend. Melissa raised her hand and began sucking on her thumb. “Awesome!” Kari cheered. “Ok, ok, Melissa, whenever I say “nighty night meli” you will fall into this trance. Melissa nodded. “You will do everything I say and not remember I said it,” Kari told her friend who nodded again. Kari then snapped her fingers and Melissa was taken out of the trance. “Whap?” Melissa said as she realized she was sucking her thumb. “Why am I…” “I made you do it with hypnosis!”Kari exclaimed. “Kari, there's no such thing as hypnosis,” Melissa told her friend. “Is too! I just did it to you!” Kari shouted. “Fine, then prove it,” Melissa demanded. “Make me do something that I wouldn't do otherwise.” “Fine! nighty night meli!” Kari shouted and Melissa went into her trance. But Kari had no idea what to do. Her mind was racing and she wasn't thinking straight. If she was she would say something like, “Write a letter to yourself revealing a secret and saying hypnosis is real.” “Every time you say hypnosis isn't real you'll pinch yourself.” “You'll cluck like a chicken every few seconds until you admit hypnosis is real.” But no, part of her was mad that she didn't believe her, so… “Poop in your pants next time you say hypnosis isn't real,” Kari told her then snapped. “Well?” Melissa asked. “I did it already,” Kari told her. Melissa looked around but saw nothing different and nothing to show she was hypnotized. “Right… believe what you want but hypnosis still isn't real.” Suddenly Melissa let out a loud fart that made both girls jump. Then Melissa’s eyes went wide as she began pooping into her panties! Melissa let out a loud scream before rushing to the bathroom but it was too late. Melissa’s mom heard the scream and came to see her daughter had pooped in her white panties and left a brown stain on them. Kari was then sent home while Melissa’s mom dealt with her daughter. The last thing Kari remembers about her old friend was that she had to wear pull ups for a week after that. Then she moved away. Kari was very upset that her friend was now gone but they promised that they would see each other again one day and that they would always be friends. Only one of those came true… Years later, when Kari turned 16, Melissa moved back. But Melissa had become a stuck up bitch. Melissa was hot and she knew it. Well-toned, curves, nice ass, B-cup boobs, long blond hair. Kari? She was tall and thin. But not much else. At first, Kari was excited to see her old friend. Hoping they could still connect after all these years! But that didn't happen. Instead, Melissa had forgotten all about Kari. While this upset Kari, she at least hoped her the best and hoped to possibly become friends with her again. Instead, Melissa pulled an evil prank on Kari in order to get in with the other popular crowd of Kari's school. During gym, Melissa pored itching powder down the front of Kari’s underwear while she was changing. “Wow Kari, do you got crabs or something?” Melissa asked as Kari began itching in front of the other girls in the locker room. And that's what Kari became known for. For the next 2 years, Melissa continued to bully Kari. Pulling pranks, spreading rumors, and doing everything she could just to humiliate Kari. Then one day, when both happen to go to the college bathroom at the same time, Kari confronted her about it. Kari told Melissa all about how they use to be friends, played together, took baths together, and shared secrets with each other. But Melissa denied it. Then Kari brought up the last time she saw Melissa was when she pooped her panties. That's when Kari remembered the hypnosis. “nighty night meli,” Kari told her bully and had her fall into her old trance. Kari was surprised it still worked. It’s been almost 10 years since it was used! But as soon as she knew it worked, Kari began to think of how she could get back at her bully. Make her run around the school naked? Give a few nerds a blowjob? Have her do something embarrassing in front of her “friends”? No, if she was going to do this, Kari wanted to do it right and take it nice and slow… *********** a few months later ********* “Melissa, your brother and I are going to the store. We'll be back in a little while!” Melissa’s mom yelled. “OK!” Melissa yelled back. Melissa listens for the front door to open and shut before Melissa got up. “Finally! I can get some privacy!” Melissa yelled as she walked out of her room. It was now summer time and Melissa was grounded. Her mom had ground her because of her bad grades. She now wasn't allowed out of the house all summer. Plus she wasn't allowed to have electronics at all. When Melissa had tried to sneak her brother's phone into her room to search the internet, her mom decided she couldn't be trusted behind a closed door and removed it. This had really frustrated Melissa. Now she had no phone, no computer, no privacy, and worst of all, nowhere to masturbate. Melissa was the type of person that needed to rub one out at least once every 3-4 days or she will get really frustrated. Melissa decided to check the whole house just to be certain that her mother was gone before she made her way to her little brother's room. Melissa can only get off while wearing underwear, but she has a small problem, she pees every time she climaxes. She's forgotten how long this has been happening but its been a while. Melissa had to be very careful at hiding her wet panties and has ruined at least a third of her underwear already. Then Melissa thought up a workaround. Her little brother was 6 and still a bedwetter. All Melissa had to do was were his underwear and their mom will just think it was from his accidents. Perfect! She pulled open his underwear drawer and pulled out one of his tighty whities. She slipped out of her underwear and pulled the new ones on. They were a little tight but fit just enough to feel like panties. She is already very excited about all of this and can already feel her pussy getting wet. She’ll just head to the bathroom and rub one out before her mom gets home. But as she turns to leave, something catches her eye. Her brother's body pillow. Melissa isn't a stranger to humping a pillow, but after ruining one of her's she hasn't done it since. But she remembered how good it felt. “Maybe just for a minute and I'll finish in the bathroom,” Melissa said out loud to no one as she got on her little brother's bed and sat down on the body pillow. Once she was there she began to grind her body on the pillow while one hand stroked her pussy. Melissa loved the feeling of the underwear over her pussy as she got herself excited before she began to hump the pillow. The pillow was soft and fluffy as Melissa rubbed her crotch on it. “I-i love this!” Melissa yelled as she humped the pillow. On any normal day, she would use her hand or a toy to get herself off, but a soft pillow was just as good for Melissa. Melissa could feel that she was on the edge, could feel the pressure building up. She knew she should head to the bathroom and finish, she knew what would happen if she didn't, but the pillow just felt too good! “I'm almost there!” Melissa yelled as she began humping harder and faster. “IM CUMMING IM CUMMING!!!!!” Melissa closed her eyes as she screamed out in pleaser and she had a great orgasm! But as she was panting and opened her eyes, she saw her wide-eyed mother staring back at her in shock. Then, Melissa began peeing in her little brother's underwear while still on top of his pillow and bed. ******** “And that's what led little Melissa here to need a babysitter.” Melissa’s mom said as she leads the babysitter to Melissa’s room. “She’s to stay in those pull-ups all summer and possibly all of the next school year.” Melissa was fuming as her mom led the babysitter into her room without asking. She was bright red as she tried to pull her shirt down to cover her pull up. Her mother had taken away all of her underwear and locked up her pants and skirts. The only time she got pants now was when her mother was taking her somewhere in public. “Know I know this is a weird circumstance, but I have no other option. With my husband gone and Melissa unreliable to watch Danny, I just needed someone to watch the two of them.” “It's no problem, I'll make sure they both stay in line,” Kari told Melissa’s mother with a smile on her face. (I hope you all like the first chapter to our story. If you like it, please check out one of our other stories.we would greatly appreciate it. Also, we have a challenge you you all! FINISH THE JOKE! A mom, her baby girl, and her sissy walk into a bar… Whoever can come up with the funniest joke will have it be part of the chapter! And will get a shout out from us!)
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