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Showing results for tags 'regression'.
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Sara was gripping the armrest tightly as the plane's nose bent down and the pilot signaled their descent was beginning. Her stomach twisted into a knot and she nibbled on her lip, she was grateful for the noise cancelling ear buds her parents and bought her before the trip because her seat near the engine was loud. She would peak occasionally out the window next to her, seeing the lights of the city come closer into focus. She was as anxious as she'd been in her life, a few years ago she thought she might be able to live a normal life at home like any other girl, but the last year things had been getting worse and worse until her parents decided for her own safety and well being she needed to relocate even faster than they'd originally planned on. Mom and Dad still hadn't found new jobs or a new apartment out of her old state yet, but fortunately her aunt was going to be able to take her in until the whole family could move up. The last few weeks had involved a lot of tearful goodbyes at school and some packing. Most of her stuff would come up in the main move. All she had with her for now was a backpack and a carry on in the compartment above her. There were a few cheers and some scattered clapping as the plane landed. The person who had sat in the window seat beside her, a young man in maybe his mid twenties who hadn't said anything to her the whole flight still helped her get her purple duffle bag out of the overhead. Being short was in some ways a blessing, or it at least it probably would be in the future. Right now, blockers were holding off a traumatic growth spurt which meant even at 15 Sara was standing at 4'10. She stuttered out a thank you and stood while waiting to deplane, fidgeting with her sunflower lanyard as she slightly swayed in place. The terminal was fairly quiet at this time of night, she'd had to change a few time zones to get here. It wasn't empty but it was significantly less crowded than her departure. Since all she had was the clothes in her bag, a Switch, her laptop, and some personal possessions, she didn't need to pass through baggage claim. Her parents had told her that her aunt had no problem helping get her situated and when they were able to move up to her in a few months, they would bring all of her stuff to their new home. The small girl walked towards the arrivals area, her canvas sneakers squeaking slightly on the floor, each time making her flinch a little bit from the sound. She thought about going to the bathroom now that she was back on the ground but anxiety spiked in her at the thought. Ever since she'd been kicked out of the girls bathroom at school, the idea of using a public toilet made her uncomfortable and a little afraid. She fished into her jeans pocket and brought out her phone, texting out: "I'm here Aunt Hannah, where can I find you?" and sending it off to her aunt.
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Laundry day. The day everyone dreaded during the week. Even just living by himself, that basket sure got filled fast! And Ravio didn't consider himself particularly messy....of course, no Little could afford to be. ...No free Little anyway. Every Little knew the rules, it was driven into your head by family and friends the instant any Little child was old enough to comprehend it. Be mature. Be polite. Never fuss or protest anything out in public, no matter what someone's saying to you. Be very careful how you dress....too cute was dangerous. Too sloppy meant you didn't know how to care for yourself. Too formally dressed up, and then someone might just accuse you of playing adult like a child dressing in their parent's oversized shoes. Don't show weakness or too much emotion when among the bigger folk. Never ever let anyone have any reason to doubt you were anything but a responsible mature adult. When you were a child....well. When you were smaller anyway....most Littles were pushed to try to skip past childhood as quickly as they could, all training to avoid a permanent second childhood. But when you were small, there was the fear that breaking the rules would put your parents at risk. An Amazon or even a Tweener child could throw a tantrum in public and the worst their parents would receive was a few dirty looks or the shake of a head. Little parents on the other hand...they could oh so easily be accused of clearly not being able to handle raising a child of their own. Perhaps they were too immature themselves.... Maturosis. The oh so beloved disease for Littles from Amazons. Do anything that would imply any level of immaturity and be branded with that label until the day you died. A disease that supposedly meant Adult Littles would turn back into toddlers or even further....and so they required the help of someone else to step in. Adoption. The biggest fear anyone who wasn't tall enough to be an Amazon faced every single day. Even Tweeners weren't fully safe. Littles though...Littles were always in danger. And so....Ravio followed the rules. He'd been pottytrained and threw the last tantrum so early in his life, he couldn't even remember it. Given up any stuffed animal or toy before he was finished elementary school. He finished school quickly and avoided the dangers of higher education. He couldn't afford to move to any Free Little country....or even a city primarily occupied by "progressives" where Adoption was far more rare. But he'd found a somewhat midsized town to move too, and made his home in an apartment with relatively okay rent prices. Sure it was sized for Tweeners, but it could be worse. Far worse. He even worked from home-editing with art and design commissions on the side-so he wouldn't risk the very common workplace Adoption. He either got his groceries delivered or made sure he did all his shopping during the late afternoon. Avoid people eyeing him for being out too late...and avoiding any stay at home mommies who might want a new sibling. He didn't go out drinking. He didn't risk seeing any movies or public events. He paid his rent early, and did his best to avoid any need of a repairman or a landlord needing to pop in. Ravio played it very safe. He followed every single rule, and so at twenty one, he was still a Free Little. How joyful, how wonderful, how lucky he was, truly. He shouldn't take it for granted. But...oh did it get tiring. Spend your entire life looking over your shoulder, and eventually you wondered what the point was if you were missing everything in front of you. He lived a safe boring closed off life. But it was a Free one. And still.... Ah. Those were the bad thoughts, the ones he never dared to let fully form. But would it be so bad to be... ...It was just the work getting to him. Laundry wasn't fun for anyone, never mind someone the size of what most the world had decided to see as a toddler. His basket and clothes were sized for him and easy to carry. But...the elevator button was far above his head. There was a button for Amazons. There was a button for Tweeners. Anyone sized below that either didn't need to worry about silly things like button pressing or had to get very good at jumping. That took a lot of time and energy! Trip down, and a trip up. And of course, once he reached the laundry room, all the bottom washers were already taken. Yep, a tiring day it was. Ravio resisted the urge to sigh, feeling nothing but resignation. Alright. Get to work then. There was one machine in the corner he could somewhat reach once he dragged a chair over to it. Then it was just the task of slowly climbing down and up the chair to drop his clothes in. Luckily he always brought his own detergent. Didn't have to worry about pouring a jug bigger than his own head that way! Just get that all set up and all he had to do was... Well. Reach as far as he could to reach the start button. Nothing he hadn't done thousands of times before throughout his life. But-well. His luck really was lacking today, because as Ravio strained juuuust a bit further to reach the button, he... Slipped. One little stupid foot too close to the edge, and he was plummeting right off the chair with nothing more than a squeak. ...Maybe he should've put laundry off for another day.
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I've always got a hundred stories in my mind, but this just came-up and I had to write it down. Hopefully my muse remains with me. This fictional story contains explicit adult content and is intended for readers 18 and older. If you are under 18 or uncomfortable with mature themes, please stop reading now. Step Down Chapter 1 Present Day His first step brother was bad enough, but his new step-brother seemed even more unbearable because he was well-liked, had a good part-time job and had more freedom, but was younger! It was infuriating. And even if Lachlan used to tease him mercilessly for his bedwetting - even after his mom had split-up with Chris - that was at least 4 years ago and he’d thankfully finally stopped wetting. But Cayden still had a curfew at 19 years old for chrissakes! Noah had just turned 18 and could do what he wanted. He even had his own decent second-hand car. Sure, Cayden had gotten a low-level drink-driving charge, and just because his special licence conditions imposed a curfew, didn’t mean his parents had to! And he couldn’t believe his mum let his new step-dad spank him over it, nor did he really put up a fight or even run away from home - he knew he couldn’t take on Ross nor make it on his own yet. It was too shameful. He knew Noah must have been listening and laughing at the spanking. He wasn’t even able to drive his mum’s car without supervision for at least another 6 months. Noah wouldn’t let him anywhere near his old BMW. “You’d better wise-up bucko. You're very lucky my lawyer got you a Section 10 suspended license. Do you know how hard it is to get a job with a criminal record? Sometimes you can’t even travel to foreign countries with a DUI. You’re bloody lucky you didn’t kill someone, yourself or wreck the car. It’s going to be a long time before we can trust you like an adult again. You’ll need to show us you’re working towards being more responsible like Noah and either studying with a part-time job or joining the army and learn to behave like a man,” his step-dad Ross had reminded him again after the court date. No, Noah was the Golden Boy. He could do no wrong in Ross’ eyes and even his mum Steph fell in love with his charms. He’d just been accepted into the National Institute of Dramatic Art and mum had always loved drama at school, and had even been in amateur productions. Everyone was over the moon - they all expected he’d soon be on Neighbours or even in Hollywood or The West End in a few years. He’d already gained attention in regional High School drama competitions and he’d even been an extra in a couple of teen TV advertisements. It didn’t help Ross and Noah came from a rich family while Steph was more middle-class and they’d recently ended-up moving into Ross’ big fancy apartment on Sydney Harbour. Cayden had certainly noticed the hoity-toity attitude from Noah and his friends. Some of them owned yachts, horses, and went on big European holidays. Others were becoming doctors (ugh) and lawyers (ugh). One girl he fancied was even training to be a navy helicopter pilot. While they were usually polite, none of them really tried to hide their disdain for the nerdy or poorly-dressed Cayden. He’d even overheard Liv, Noah’s girlfriend, agreeing with Noah that he must still be a virgin - which was true, but still hurt - followed-up by the cruel laughter they all often employed. When he’d recently gotten some courage to talk to his counsellor about Lachlan and his teasing over his bedwetting, he’d said he probably still had some unprocessed trauma about the whole thing. And that might explain his disdain for Noah, who was clearly leagues ahead of him in maturity. It especially didn’t help when his mother Steph was convinced to get Cayden to wear Huggies DryNites pull-ups for his bedwetting because Lachlan would always complain about the smell and must have seen the benefit in doing less washing all the time. While Lachlan was relentless in the teasing over his “Huggies” - especially when he was wet in the morning - Cayden would beg to be allowed to try alternative methods (which he’d googled) such as special drugs, hypnosis or even just a washable bed pad. After speaking with the family doctor - always a terrifying ordeal for Cayden in front of the female doctor whenever his bedwetting came-up - his mum wasn’t keen on the drug side-effects. Besides, Dr Sharma said that nighttime protection could be beneficial for a teen’s restful sleep. Chris had finally put his foot down and said that if he was still wetting the bed like a toddler at 14, he would wear pull-ups like a toddler and that was that. And if he didn’t stop complaining, Cayden would get a spanking and they’d order some cloth nappies and plastic pants for him - something that Chris’ cousins had to wear for bedwetting when he was a child - arguing they’d be cheaper in the long-run than expensive DryNites. That shut-up Cayden, but triggered Lachlan into further ecstatic spasms of teasing - he’d google these dreaded babyish items and send them to Cayden via threatening SnapChats. He would manage to find all sorts of babyish versions made for adults to send to him and it made Cayden wonder who really wore all this stuff. Lachlan didn’t even get into trouble when Chris was teased at school about it. It got so bad, they had to move him to another school. Fortunately the stink of it didn’t follow him. While he lost the battle over his pull-ups, his mum did agree to some hypnosis which apparently had helped Chris give-up smoking. Not that Cayden stopped wetting for another two years, but he assumed it must have had an effect as his wet nights slowly reduced over time. The smaller spare room was eventually converted into a bedroom for Chris who had to keep his old single bed, while Lachlan as the older boy, upgraded to a double-bed and his own larger room. After his mum broke-up with Chris, they’d moved into a small apartment and things seemed to get better without Lachlan, even if he still sent the occasional SnapChat. Cayden didn’t have the guts to block him, lest he find another more public channel to humiliate him with. After Cayden finished High School with passable results, he bummed-around for a bit, playing games and riding to the beach. His mother demanded he get his license and get a job and start paying board because rent was getting really expensive. He countered that he was still trying to work-out what he wanted to do, and besides most kids these days had a gap year anyway. Not that he’d done much except playing games, swimming and having the occasional piss-up in the park with his mate Jack who would buy a box of cheap goon wine. He finally got his open license eventually - after failing once - of which his mother was very proud, until he fucked-up. In the meantime, she’d met Ross and they’d moved in, and while they weren’t paying rent anymore, the pressure had actually increased and they were once-again demanding Cayden grow-up and be like Noah. If only he could take the Pampered Prince down a peg or two and deflect some attention away from himself.
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In the hustle and bustle of a small town almost everyone knew each other. I was new to the area and was trying to find work as i did feel a bit out of place as i didn't really have much of a work history but i was willing to learn thinking a job working at an office desk couldn't be that difficult to do. I finally landed an interview job at a company building as i was sitting in the lobby waiting to meet with the hiring manager but not knowing the ceo of the company would be interviewing me instead.
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Microfiction (noun) A complete story told in 300 words or less. Multi-chapter novellas like Weekend in the Mechanical Nursery or Bella's New Punishment both started as 2,000 word shorts, and I wanted the chance to push myself to be more concise with microfiction. Follow along as I aim to tell complete and compelling stories of discipline, humiliation, and regression in less than 300 words. If you want to support my writing and get access to exclusive stories and works in progress, come and hang out with us on Ream. -------------------------------------------- She sat in her playpen in his office that normally smelled of mahogany and bourbon, but now carried the sweet, lingering scent of baby powder. Jess needed a change, but would need to wait on her friend Morgan for that. Mr. Franklin was old-fashioned and thought it improper to have an intimate connection with an employee. But he was into weird shit. That was undeniable. After the audit exposed her embezzlement, Jess tried to blackmail her boss with the weird diaper shit she found on his computer, but the older man surprised her with a proposal. That’s how Jess found herself doing office work in pull-ups and sucking on a pacifier. For weeks, they were pleased with the arrangement. Then both wanted more. For an extra $3,000, Jess agreed to ask permission before going to the potty and stand in the corner for any sub-par work. For $3,000 more, she stopped wearing pants altogether and occasionally had ‘accidents’ earning herself a few sad faces on her new potty-training chart. It was weird, but had effectively doubled her salary. Diapers were the next obvious step, but Jess struggled with diapering herself and recommended her friend for the new part-time assistant role. That role quickly grew to full-time nanny status until the blonde’s job description consisted only of filling diapers and looking cute, for which Jess had received a bonus in her latest performance review. Mr. Franklin looked at his pigtailed and pacified manager and she smiled and waved from her playpen. Today was Morgan’s quarterly evaluation and she was late. Again. Overhearing the woman’s financial troubles, Mr. Franklin wondered what it might be like to have two adorable playthings at his office and made a note to hire a contractor for the new office nursery and find a new assistant. -------------------------------------------- Get instant access to most of my stories with new exclusive chapters every week and at least three new stories each month on Ream.
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Here is the first chapter of my brand new story - Elysium! Just a heads up... the first chapter is kinda heavy. But it's needed. There will also be content warnings throughout the story, but I'll make sure to flag them whenever possible. Now... Elysium... This is what happens when I put a lot of myself into a story. Infernum and Arbitrio were the first ones where I put a lot of myself into it... but this one feels a lot more personal than any of my other stories, so I really hope you like it. It's also a lot longer than my usual stories (Probably aiming somewhere around the same length as Little in Love or Love in Dimensions). It's different in a lot of ways, so I hope you enjoy all the differences to my usual stories. I know this genre is a little overdone in our circles... but this is a story I needed to write. You'll see why as it goes on. Enjoy! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! Especially when it comes to new stories! Chapter 1: The Edge Elysium – LittleFallenPrincess ------------------------------- Tw: Depression, suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide ------------------------------- Just one more step. Just the tiniest bit of momentum. That was all that was needed. Was I being selfish doing this? Maybe. But it’s not like people will care for more than a week at most. They’ll get over the initial shock and go back to living their normal lives. I was always just a background character to their stories anyway. Always was. Always will be. At least since I lost Mum anyway. They’ll be like ‘Oh, did you hear about Noah? He jumped off the bridge and died. Such a shame. Had so much life to live.’ The same useless shit people say whenever someone dies. Everyone says the same rubbish especially whenever someone kills themself. That ‘they wish they had seen the signs’, ‘wish they had done something’, ‘they were struggling’, ‘at least they’re not suffering anymore’… and it’s all bullshit. They don’t care. They just feel bad that they didn’t give enough of a fuck about someone who was struggling to do anything before it was too late. It takes the tiniest amount of effort to reach out to someone struggling like this, but none of them can be bothered. I bet they’ll say the same things about me. But I think I gave them enough signs. If they can’t read them… that’s their fault. I pretty much plastered them on the walls in bright red paint in all caps… but they were still oblivious to the message. Even if they did read them though… At this point, when I’ve reached rock bottom… what could actually help me at this point? Therapy? Ha… sure… I’ve tried like four different therapists and not one of them could help me. Meds? Doc won’t prescribe anything else because nothing seems to be working. Mental hospital? I’d rather di-... yeah… that’s why I’m here on this ledge… I stared out at the empty road below. Thankfully… no traffic this late at night. No one’s oncoming car to accidentally fall onto. Which is good, because I already feel pretty fucking guilty for ruining the day of whoever finds me… But hey, at that point I won’t have to worry, I won’t be around. Part of me worried that maybe this isn’t high enough. Because I had heard somewhere that people had survived large drops… and if I do take that final step, I want it to be exactly that… final. I don’t want to survive it. That will just lead to… complications. Locked away for a while ‘for my own safety’. The thought of that sends a wave of terror through my whole body. One of my biggest fears is being locked away, unable to escape. It’s why I’ve put this off for so long. I could’ve attempted something before… but I was worried of failing and what would happen if I did so. But now I’ve reached absolute rock bottom and I’m like 99% sure I’m done with this life now. So as my foot hovered over the large drop in front of me, my hands tightly gripping the railing behind me, balancing precariously on the edge of the bridge… I tried to mentally prepare myself. It wasn’t too late to back down though. No one would know… it’s the dead of night. There are no cars, no people… it’s a quiet little English town after all. And I picked this spot in particular so that no one could stop me, that there would be no-one around to stop me. But if I backed out… I could just go home, and no one would have any knowledge of what I planned to do. Which means no-one is doing anything drastic to keep me safe that would end up with me getting much worse. No… I’m ready. I’ve contemplated this for years. Even before I lost my Mum in my teens. Even before I told my Dad about all that stuff… before he kicked me out. I was always depressed. Always wanted to stop existing. It was never a ‘I want to die’, it was more of a ‘I don’t want to exist’, or ‘wish I had never been born at all’. Now it’s different, of course, I mean it’s why I’m balancing here on the edge of a bridge. It wasn’t all bad though. I loved my childhood. Mum made it special. She was my support… my best friend. I loved her so fucking much. Then… she was just gone. Dead. And I was left with Dad. That’s when it all went downhill. Grades slipped, Dad got aggressive. Never violent, but definitely more aggressive. You could tell he didn’t love me the way Mum did. I was just this dumb kid of his, some failure of a son. And he loved to remind me. Then when I told him about all the things going on with my life… he reacted a lot worse than I’d hoped. Kicked me out. Haven’t talked to him in years, but hey, good riddance I say. Mum hated him anyway, it’s why they separated when I was very little. When I had to move in with Dad after Mum died… I think another little piece of my soul died. I’m still surprised I got into university despite all that. Barely scraped through too, earning myself a useless degree that may have actually hindered my job prospects afterwards. So my education was ruined, as was any job I worked after I left Uni, as were all my relationships. Relationships… Ugh, this is the worst timing for me doing this, isn’t it? So close after Abigail broke up with me. She’s… she’s going to blame herself for this. Sure, she broke my heart into a billion tiny pieces, but she didn’t push me over the edge. Even if she did turn all our friends against me. No, I was ready for this for a long time, even back when we were dating. I just didn’t want to hurt her. And now look at me… I liked her. A lot. But I was always holding myself back with her, keeping a large part of myself locked away in fear of how she’d react. Hell, pretty sure that’s part of the reason she broke up with me. She said I was always so ‘mopey’... which she’s not wrong about, but I think she knew I was bottling things up around her, keeping her from seeing what was going on with me. She always had this big plan. She wanted me to propose soon, then we would get married, have kids… typical heteronormative crap you see on TV, with me as the loving husband who comes home after a busy day at the office. White picket fence and all that. But I didn’t want that. Well no, that’s not entirely true, I like the idea of it… but it wasn’t… me. I’m not that kind of guy. I’m not even… No, but anyway, I wasn’t right for her, she deserves her dream. So I’m glad she broke up with me. She deserves better. I just hope she doesn’t blame herself for what I’m about to do. No. I’m ready. One final breath. One final step. One final thought. Better make it a good one. …Nope. Can’t think of anything. Mind is racing too much to pin a thought down. Ah well, go out the same way I came in, eh? And with that last deep breath, I released my tight grip on the guard rail, the blood rushing back into them after they had turned white just moments ago. Momentum took over. It was out of my hands now. A stillness radiated my entire body. I was ready. This was actually happening. This is it. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YE’ DOING?” Something that felt like talons dug themselves into my shoulders, gripping tightly onto my shirt, and yanked me backwards back over the guard rail, tossing me like a ragdoll onto the pavement behind me. I crashed onto the pavement with my arse taking the brunt of the impact. Then my mind and thoughts rushed back, realising I wasn’t dead. “I…” Everything was spinning. I couldn’t focus or think. I had been at peace, ready to end it all, but then something, or someone, came along and literally yanked me from my fate, and now my mind was trying to catch up with my situation. “Hun… were you seriously about to do what I think you were about to do?” came a soothing voice, from who I assumed was the woman who just prevented me from doing something very stupid. At least I assumed it was a woman from what her voice sounded like, with the slightest twinge of a Scottish accent in there. Though it must have been some woman to have been able to throw me back over that guard rail… “I…” Adrenaline was coursing through my body, and I couldn’t figure out whether I wanted to admit the truth, lie, or simply just run away. My vision was blurry and I couldn’t focus. All I could hear was this soothing voice. So I couldn’t even put a face to it. “Sweetie… are you okay?” she said, crouching down in front of me. “I… umm… I’ll get back to you on that one…” I replied, finally managing a full sentence. “Hopefully sooner, rather than later… because you were one second from ending up as paste on the road below!” It was weird hearing such a lovely, almost maternal voice form such crude imagery, but it made me laugh a bit. “What’s so funny?” she asked. “Paste…” “Is your head okay? I didn’t knock it too hard, did I?” “No… I…” My vision started clearing as I looked up at who would normally be called a ‘saviour’ in this situation, though right now… I saw her as more of a hindrance to my overall goal. Freckles. That was the first thing I noticed. Well that and the very red hair. Like… proper ginger. She couldn’t look more stereotypically Scottish if she tried. Her voice definitely matched her appearance, dressed in jeans and a simple amethyst-coloured blouse under her black denim jacket. “Good. Because sometimes I don’t know my own strength. Now… are you going to tell me your name first?” “N… Noah.” “Well N-Noah,” she replied, imitating my stutter, “Care to tell me what you were about to do?” “I think that… is pretty obvious,” I replied, smiling awkwardly. “I guess it is. And why in the world would you do something like that?” “Because…” “‘Because’? Just ‘because’? Oh come on, sweetie… give me a better reason than that!” It was always hard to tell people this. To admit what I want. “I… want… I mean… I don’t want to be here anymore…” “And why is that? Did something happen?” “No. I mean yes. But I… I’ve been wanting this for a long time. Please. Just let me go. You shouldn’t stop me…” That’s when she took my hands into hers. “Sweetie, I’m not going to let you do anything drastic right now. You’re not in the best place, and I’m here to help, okay?” She sounded so… genuinely nice? Like sweetness personified. Even her words in her soft spoken accent made me instantly drop my guard around her. Which somewhat scared me… I nearly always have my guard up. “I… don’t think you can help.” “Try me.” “No. I… I don’t want…” “...To bother me? Shush. Now tell me, precious, what happened to cause such a little cutie like you to take the most drastic action he could possibly take?” I really don’t know what it is about this woman. She… she melts away whatever protection I had guarded myself with. Her voice, her mannerisms, that cute freckled face of hers… “Come on, petal…” “I… don’t even know your name…” “Ceres,” she replied, smiling down at me. “That’s a very… unique name.” “Well I’ll take that as a compliment then, but only because you’re cute,” as she said this, she sat down in front of me, not letting go of my hands as she parked herself on the cold pavement below. “I’m… not…” “Not cute? Lies. Look at you. I bet your girlfriend is all over you.” “D… don’t have one…” “You don’t? Well sorry, sweetie, but I find that hard to believe.” “I’m too depressed for her,” I replied, hanging my head in shame, trying to look anywhere but at her face. “Her? So there was someone? Is this what it’s all about?” “No. Yes. I mean… part of it.” “Then tell me more.” “It’s just… I’ve felt like this for a long time. Since…” “Since what?” “Since I lost my Mum,” I sighed. She went silent for a second. “Ah. Yes. I know how much that hurts. No Dad to help?” “No. He… didn’t like who I was growing up to be. I wasn’t his clone, so he didn’t care. I was always too much like my Mum.” She squeezed my hand, causing me to look up into her beautiful green eyes. “Oh sweetie. I understand your pain. But that doesn’t mean you go taking a step onto the motorway below like that. Are you in therapy? Missed your meds?” “None of it works. Tried it all.” She looked at me, no smile on her face anymore. As if she was trying really hard to read me. She was thinking about something, but I couldn’t even begin to guess what it was that was going on in that head of hers. “Right. Come on. Come with me.” Okay… I wasn’t expecting that. But hey, as long as she doesn’t call the police or for an ambulance… maybe I can get away with just slinking off home once she’s given me a talking to, and no-one in my life will be aware of what nearly went down tonight. “I… okay…” “Good boy. Let’s go sit on a bench and you can talk about what’s bothering you. Spare no details.” ------------------------------- “So depression, dead end job, no girlfriend, bad degree, shit dad, lost your Mum, facing homelessness, and nothing the doctors are trying is working? Is that everything?” “That… is pretty much it,” I replied, shrugging at her, not knowing what else to say. Ceres had found a nice little bench in the nearby park. It was just as dead as the bridge was, probably due to it being like… 3am. She had sat me down, wrapped her jacket around me (as I had been stupid enough to come out wearing just my t-shirt and jeans. Sure, it’s only the start of September, but it’s still pretty bloody cold at 3am in the UK, no matter what time of year it is), and barely released my hands from hers the entire time. I hesitated at first. I didn’t want to go and bother this complete stranger with all my issues, even if she had just technically saved my life. Despite wishing she hadn’t done so. But something about this woman, who looked not much older than 30, made me feel so… safe… that I eventually just blurted out everything, just one big stream of consciousness. I was worried maybe I had overwhelmed her, but clearly with her little summary… she had listened to everything. Not that I told her everything. There’s some stuff that I’m not even able to talk to myself about, let alone a cute stranger who just prevented me from ‘becoming paste on the road’. “Right. Well whilst I can see why you’d want to do what you were about to do… I still think you’re an idiot for attempting it.” “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be all nice and reassuring? ‘Idiot’ isn’t very nice, is it?” I asked, smiling cheekily at her, the first smile I had managed since she saved me. “Excuse me…” she said, trying her best to hold in her laugh, the one you could clearly see bubbling at the surface. “I’m very good at what I do. Not my fault some cute idiot decided to do something stupid and change my plans…” That’s when a wave of guilt hit me. The one I had hoped to have missed… after I had done the deed. “I… oh… sorry…” I replied, hanging my head in shame. “Oh shush. I was only on my way home from work.” “Still… sorry. You should be home right now.” “No, Noah… none of that bullshit with me, okay? You were in a low place, I understand that. Hell, I understand getting to the point where you’re teetering over the edge… but I will not have you putting yourself down just for slightly inconveniencing me. I’m just happy I got to stop you before you became vulture-chow.” “We don’t get vultures in England…” “And apparently you also don’t get jokes…” she said, nudging me playfully. “Sorry…” “What did I just tell you?” “S-... ah… yeah… Fine. No more apologies. For now,” I replied, pouting slightly at this cute girl. “Good boy.” Shivers ran through my body when she said those two words. And for a moment there… I swear she could tell. But it wasn’t good shivers. It wasn’t bad. It was like… a mix of both? “Now, sweetie. I’m a bit worried about leaving you alone right now. Have you got anyone you can call?” “No,” I snapped back at her, maybe a little too quickly. “No one?” “I… no. Sorry. I’ll be fine, you can just let me go home.” “Via the motorway?” she replied, pointing in the direction of where I had nearly jumped. “Oh I don’t think so, sweetie.” “I’ll be fine…” I groaned. “Look, I’ll give you my number. If you need someone to talk to, or have a drink or something, you just call me, okay? You’re not a bother. And I want you to be okay. You’re a cute guy.” I grumbled a bit, before she finally released her hands, reaching into her shoulder bag with both of them, before pulling her phone out with one of them. “Right, come here. I’m giving you the biggest hug ever. That way you’ll want another one, and be a lot less likely to go stepping off bridges…” Hey, I wasn’t going to argue with this woman. First off, she’s cute. Secondly… she gives off this vibe of ‘do as I say, or you’ll regret it’. Thirdly… I was still calming down after everything, so if I was going to try this again… I’d need a few days, I think, to get my head back to normal. And fourthly… and most importantly… she hadn’t called anyone. She hadn’t called the police. Hadn’t called to get me locked away for my own safety. She was just… letting me go. This was the best thing that could have happened once she saved me, and I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As I stood up, she held out her arms, creating an opening for me to hug her. Slowly shuffling forward, I got closer and closer until she took the lead and stepped forward, wrapping her rather strong arms around me, squeezing me tightly. I wrapped mine around her waist and embraced the hug. With my head pressed against her chest like this, this hug felt like the best thing in the world right now. The best thing I had experienced in years. I felt all the sadness I tried bottling up, all the anger, all the pain, everything… come rushing forward, flooding my body with emotion. I began to cry into her shoulder. “There there, Noah, let it all out. You’ve had a stressful life from the sounds of it. Just let it all out. Forget about it. You don’t have to be big and strong with me.” Her words, along with the soft, comforting accent of hers… made me feel smaller than ever. Even as she stroked my blonde hair, which must have come untied from the ponytail earlier, I felt smaller than ever, despite her only being a couple of inches taller than me. And I’m 5’9! Yet I felt two feet tall compared to this woman somehow. “I… sorry I’m such a mess. You… you shouldn’t have to comfort me like this.” She squeezed me tighter, then moved her mouth closer to my ear. “Sweetie, I am so glad I ran into you tonight. I think fate brought us together. Because I think I can help you.” A small little pinch. In my upper arm. That’s all that was felt before the world… and my body… got really heavy. Before the world started spinning. Before everything felt… almost good for once. And then… the lights went out. ====================================================== Sorry for the really heavy start to this story. I promise you it gets easier. It's a very emotional story, and may have some darker moments like this. But I promise you, it's worth it. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, despite this! Like I said... I put a lot more of myself into this story... Don't forget I'm on Subscribestar! Subscribers get 2 weeks early access to chapters, and exclusive short stories (Nessa's Tale is currently the only available one). The next four chapters of my new story posted on my Subscribestar! ======================================================== I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! If you want to read the next 4 chapters, thanks to two weeks early access to my main story and also soon-to-be exclusive access to short stories (or even have a chance at commissioning one when I add the tier for them!), why don't you check out my SubscribeStar! The basic tier gets early access and exclusive access to short stories (when they're written), higher tiers will be limited but get a short story each month (1-2 per month in total, also not yet running this tier yet, will announce when I'm starting!). Thank you to all my subscribers for their support over the past few years! Seriously, your support means the world to me. New chapters of my latest story every Wednesday/Sunday! Also just a quick note: I don't mind people saving this story for personal reading. But I'd appreciate it if people didn't post it elsewhere, even if you're just suggesting it to other people. If you want to show others, please send them a link to the first page of this post! Thanks!
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This story follows a 13 year old boy from England, who’s life is about to head in a totally unexpected direction. Tommy’s Trials Chapter One - Calm before the Storm Tommy was like any other 13 year old boy in England. He went to school, played video games, loved football, and had few cares in life. The boy lived a very normal life, but all that was about to change. “Wake up Tommy, it’s time for school!” shouted Mum Groggily, the lad rubbed his eyes and threw off his covers. He pulled off his grey Pokémon pajamas, allowing them to pool on the floor, with Pikachu’s yellow figure smiling back at him. Tommy loved Pokémon, even if the other kids thought it was too babyish now. He grabbed his grey school shorts, white shirt, clip on tie, black blazer, and prepared to put on his regular ensemble. It was the first day back at Riverside High School, and the summer break was over. The boy had so much fun, and now was the return the monotony of secondary school. “I made you boys some toast” said mum, as Tommy walked into the kitchen. “Thanks mummy!” squealed Tommy’s little brother Riley. The 7 year old boy was always full of energy, despite the fact it was 8am. The boys ate breakfast and prepared to leave, their emotions greatly contrasting each other. “Let’s go Riley, we’re gonna be late” exclaimed Tommy, grabbing his little brother’s hand. So they set off, with their first stop being Riverside Primary for Riley. Tommy was a good big brother & walked his annoying sibling to school every day. They arrived at Riley’s school, just a five minute walk away from Tommy’s. The boys hugged and said goodbye, but not before the supervising teacher stumbled upon them. She was new, the boys had never seen her before. “Okay boys, come on, school starts soon, get yourselves inside” said Miss Lisa, ushering them inside the great gates. Tommy instantly realised what was happening. The uniforms were similar and his secondary school blazer was in his bag, the teacher had mistaken him for a primary school kid. Tommy was small for his age, often mistaken for much younger than he was. The two brothers were similar in size, and many adults believed them to be twins at first glance. “I don’t go to this school” Tommy glumly replied, “I’m in high school”. “Oh I’m so sorry, I thought you were another one of our boys” apologised Miss Lisa. “Apology not accepted” thought Tommy, he was sick of being mistaken for a little kid, wondering when he would finally have a growth spurt. So Riley marched in excitedly, and Tommy left for Riverside High. His eyes set on the familiar ancient blue gates, a lighthouse guiding the way for ships of tired sailors in the dark morning. He mentally prepared himself for the first day of school, unknowing of the crashing waves which were about to sink his life into a totally different direction.
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Tobi’s little life Chapter One - Back to Diapers Tobi was a late bloomer, he had heard all of his friends talking about “porn” & “masturbating” for years before he was interested in any of that stuff. “How often do you wank” asked Tommy “A couple times a week” replied Tobi, acting as if he had ever done it before He went to an all boys school from the ages of 11-16, an interesting way for a boy to go through his formative years. Being surrounded by boys during puberty certainly had an impact on the lad. Talking to girls was nerve wracking, and it was difficult to even meet one! Tobi had never tried this “masturbating” thing that all the boys in school had been talking about, but one night decided to. He watched as two women doing all sorts of things he had only heard about, but never witnessed. He tried it, and he didn’t like it. Whether it was the gender, or a lack of maturity, he was not sure. It was simply of no interest. However, Tobi did have a fascination. As a young boy he watched a cartoon in which a character was turned into back into a baby, diapers and all. This made him feel funny, and his penis was erect. Little did he know, this was the beginning something very unique to him. Tobi liked diapers. He didn’t know why, but he did. He remembered seeing a green packet under the bath, picking them up to see a brand name written on them, “Drynites”. The package stated that they were for ages 7-10, he was 14 but little for his age. Tobi stood at about 5”0 tall, and had a baby face, he was often mistaken for younger than he was, which caused lots of embarrassment throughout the years. Adults would think he was the little brother, when in reality he was the second oldest of three. Tobi remembered these diapers, and searched for them. They were not longer under the bath, but after a little while he found them in the bathroom cupboard. “Yay” thought Tobi, happy his mum hadn’t got rid of them yet. He assumed they were his older brothers old diapers for wetting the bed, as he had no memories of doing so as a child, or wearing any sort of protection. He definitely didn’t beyond the age of seven! During his life, Tobi had a few accidents in childhood. His only memories at bedtime were from when he was very little, remembering how he had pooped his bed whilst sleeping (probably around age 4), and his mum had helped him clean up. Also, at around 12 years old he had a dream of using the toilet. Tobi began to pee in the dream toilet, only to suddenly realise things weren’t actually real! There was a small wet patch on the bed & his pajama bottoms too, this had never happened to him before. Sleeping on the other side of the bed was Tobi’s solution to the issue, and the wetness had dried by morning. In terms of daytime, he did recall a number of occasions where he had stuffed wet undies down the side of his old dresser, after coming home from school. As a child he would leak a little bit of pee in his pants after holding it for a while, nothing noticeable but enough to make his underwear wet. He had a little bit of trouble holding it during primary school. Around Christmas time, when Tobi was seven years old, he was in maths class. The urge to pee had built up, and being a little boy (with a small bladder), he couldn’t wait. His hand shot up, attempting to get the attention of the teacher, however the effort was futile. “Miss, can i g-“ “Not now Tobi, I’m busy sorting out the Christmas cards” replied Miss April Tobi was a good boy and he never disobeyed his teachers, he had never even got a detention! So he sat there, the pressure building until he had a brilliant idea. “If i just let a little bit out then I won’t need to go as bad” thought Tobi, who was now bursting to use the toilet. The naive boy put his plan into action, attempting to pee his underwear just a little bit. As he let go for a momentary release, he was shocked to realise his little bladder could not stop the flow! The little release turned into a flood, the boy was peeing his pants completely, the plan had failed. Warm pee pooled in his pants, leaving a puddle on his chair. The black school trousers were now soaked, he had never been so humiliated in his life. Tobi got up and ran to the boys toilets, hiding in a stall. The tears began, this was all too much for a seven year old boy to handle. He was much too big to be wetting himself, and doing it during class made the event all the more humiliating. Eventually a teacher came in and gave him a new pair of pants, as well as undies. He got changed, with mum picking the distraught boy up. The following day Miss April announced to the class that if you need to go to the toilet badly, then you can just go. “Would’ve been nice to know that earlier” he said in his mind. Fast forwarding, Tobi decided he wanted to try one of the old drynites he had found years previously. It was the night before his 15th birthday when the boy dreamed up another one of his schemes. Quietly, he snuck to the bathroom after everybody in the house was asleep, ready to try diapers for the first time in at least 11 years. Cautiously, he swung open the cupboard and found what he had been so fascinated by. A small green packet, with pictures of kids smiling in their pajamas, and a count of 9 diapers on the side. Some were missing already, but this was like an unfinished melody to the boy. He opened the package, taking one of the plain white pull-ups out, just staring at it. They were soft as snow, and white to pair, crinkling in his hands. Tobi stripped his pajamas, and pulled on the drynite. For the first time in 11 years, the adolescent boy was once again had a snug diaper around his waist…
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Hello and happy new year to all. I was playing a bit with ChatGPT and let it write a story for me. It is completely written by the AI, with just a not so long prompt. But it got kind of big. I thought some people might enjoy the story. It has minor AI related inconsistencies, but I think it's still a good read. So just have fun! Edit: I let it write a kind of similar story, but still kind of different plot. I really don't know if anyone even cares for that stories, but I wanted another, so if anyone wants to read it, it's here. Since I don't want to take away the audience from real writers with real talents, I just added the second story here and didn't create a new topic. Meredith's Control Chapter One: A Curious Arrangement Leon tugged at the sleeves of his oversized hoodie, standing on his tiptoes in front of the bathroom mirror, straining just to catch his reflection. His girlfriend, Meredith, was out in the living room, busily typing away at her laptop. She always had some major project at work: big team meetings, presentations for important clients, constant video conferences. Yet, she somehow always found time to keep a very close eye on him. He tried to flatten his hair, which always seemed to puff up on top of his head in a boyish swirl. At just around four feet seven inches tall, Leon had a slender, childlike build despite being eighteen years old. When Meredith—who stood at a majestic six foot one—first noticed him at a local coffee shop a few months ago, he was enamored by her confidence, her sultry laugh, and her commanding presence. Their relationship moved quickly. Too quickly for some. But for Leon, nothing could compare to the sense of protection and enthrallment he felt around her. In truth, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Meredith’s control over him stretched into the smallest corners of his day: from what he wore and how he styled his hair, to even how he used the bathroom. She managed every routine, every decision. While he sometimes complained, he also found himself secretly liking the structure. It made him feel cared for, oddly comforted. He felt guilty for resisting her, even when he found her rules embarrassing. Leon could hear the rattle of keys in the living room as Meredith shut her laptop. It was probably time to go through the day’s itinerary—a list she insisted on reviewing with him every morning. Leon sighed. He was still wearing pajamas because she had specifically told him not to get dressed by himself that day. Apparently, she had something “special” lined up for him. Slinking out of the bathroom, he walked into the living room, noticing how the top of his head barely reached the bottom of Meredith’s chest. She looked up at him, one eyebrow arched. “You’re late,” she stated in a clipped tone, tapping the face of her silver watch. “I was just—” he began, but her expression silenced him. “I already told you: no excuses. Today is a busy day for me, and I can’t have you making us run behind. Now come here.” She patted the seat of the couch next to her. Her voice carried such authority that he instantly felt a pang of guilt. He obeyed, sitting down. His tiny form sank into the cushion, emphasizing how small he was compared to her. Gently, she rested a large hand on his thigh, letting him know she wasn’t angry—just strict. Their eyes met, and there was a softness beneath her stern facade. “I have to go to the office for some time, but I’ll be back before dinner,” she said. “In the meantime, you’ll stay here. I’ve laid out clothes for you in the bedroom. You’re not to leave the apartment until I get back. Is that clear?” Leon nodded. “Yes, Meredith.” He could feel an odd mix of relief and apprehension. She was going out, but his instructions were so rigid. It felt a little lonely, spending hours in the apartment by himself with such restrictions—especially since he needed permission for almost everything. “Also…” She paused, studying his face. “Have you gone potty yet this morning?” Leon’s cheeks flushed. That question was always mortifying, though he had grown somewhat used to it. Meredith demanded to know about every trip to the bathroom. “Yes,” he mumbled, “right when I woke up.” “Good.” She turned back to her phone, tapping at some notifications. “Remember: no more breaks until lunchtime. If you have to go, wait for me to come home. I don’t want to find out you disobeyed me.” Her instructions were specific and strict. He’d been told only to use the bathroom at set times, always with her permission. Yesterday, he nearly had an accident holding it until she got back from a grocery run. As embarrassing as it felt to beg for the toilet, it was even more humiliating to lose control. But Meredith liked it that way—and, if he was honest, a small part of him thrilled at the notion of surrender. “All right,” he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper. Meredith patted his thigh one last time before she stood up, towering over him. She bent slightly, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Be good. Don’t get into trouble.” Leon felt goosebumps on his arms. “I promise I’ll be good.” She flashed him a knowing grin, then picked up her handbag and left, locking the door behind her with a decisive click. Leon stared at the door for several moments. The apartment, though cozy, suddenly felt huge without her presence. His instructions were clear: get dressed in the clothes she chose, don’t leave the apartment, and most importantly—no bathroom breaks until lunch, when she planned to return. He exhaled. This was his life now. Part of him wanted to rebel, to say that enough was enough. But part of him loved her so much that he convinced himself he needed this, needed her. And so, with a subdued swirl of excitement and anxiety, Leon walked to the bedroom to see what she had laid out for him. Chapter Two: A Childish Wardrobe When Leon opened the bedroom door, his cheeks immediately reddened. Spread across the bed was an outfit he would have never chosen for himself: a pair of powder-blue shortalls, complete with little silver snaps running down the sides, and a plain white t-shirt to go underneath. Next to it lay ankle socks with tiny cartoon puppies stitched into the cuffs. At the foot of the bed sat bright white Velcro sneakers—another childlike touch. He inhaled a shaky breath. This was far from the most juvenile outfit Meredith had ever selected, but it still made him feel about ten years old rather than eighteen. Even if he wanted to choose something else, he knew he was not allowed. From the first week he moved in, Meredith had insisted on taking over all dressing responsibilities, often physically clothing him herself. This morning, however, she’d made an exception by laying out the outfit in advance—probably because she was in a hurry. Leon glanced at the time on his phone: 8:42 AM. He had a while before lunch, and already he could feel an uncomfortable tightness in his bladder. He’d used the bathroom upon waking up, but the morning coffee he’d had earlier was catching up to him. He swallowed hard. Meredith had said no more potty visits until she came back at noon. He tried to ignore the discomfort, telling himself she’d only be gone a few hours. With a resigned sigh, he plucked the T-shirt off the bed. He peeled off his pajama top, then slipped the T-shirt on. Finally, he lifted the shortalls and stepped into them, struggling to pull the straps over his shoulders until he heard the tiny snaps click. They fit snugly, cupping his narrow hips and accentuating how slender he was. The Velcro shoes went on last. He looked at himself in the standing mirror and cringed. The shortalls ended high on his thighs, making him look about as intimidating as a toddler. He could feel his heart pounding as he went back into the living room, half-expecting someone to be standing there laughing at him. But of course, the apartment was empty. He sank down on the sofa, turning on the TV. Maybe he could distract himself with some cartoons or a movie. He was too nervous to watch the news or a serious program. Subconsciously, he gravitated toward more childish things—something that matched how Meredith dressed him. He flicked through streaming channels until he found an old animated movie from his childhood. While it played, his mind kept drifting to the subtle pressure below his abdomen. It had been only a few weeks of abiding by her “no bathroom without permission” rule, but it was long enough that his body felt confused, uncertain when relief was actually allowed. He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. The anxiety made him want to push the feeling away, yet focusing on it seemed inevitable. Time ticked by painfully slowly: 9:00… 9:15… 9:30… By 10:00, Leon was shifting in his seat, crossing his legs, and trying to stay calm. He was determined not to break the rules—he never wanted to face Meredith’s anger or disappointment. But if she didn’t come home in time… He shook his head. She said noon. You can hold it until noon, he told himself. He’d done it before. He’d do it again. Memories of the last time he disobeyed raced through his mind. About a week ago, she’d caught him sneaking off to the bathroom while she was out. He was wearing a childish onesie she had chosen, and the second she returned, he’d practically run past her toward the toilet. She noticed the onesie was unbuttoned. He’d undone it on his own. She was upset, not screaming or raging, but cold and disappointed. That, to him, was worse than any punishment. So he’d do what she wanted: hold it. By 11:15, he was practically shaking. He paced around the living room, turning the TV off because he couldn’t focus. The pressure was building painfully, and he wasn’t sure how long he could last. Finally, at 11:45, he heard the jangle of keys outside the door. Meredith stepped in, the faint smell of crisp autumn air swirling around her. She closed the door, set her purse down, and immediately looked at him with curiosity. “Hello, sweetie. How was your morning?” Leon let out a trembling breath. “It’s been okay. I… I’m glad you’re home.” She slipped off her jacket, revealing a form-fitting blouse and a knee-length skirt. She looked immaculate, her tall silhouette making him feel ridiculously small. “Did you follow the rules?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. Leon nodded vigorously. “Yes. I haven’t gone to the bathroom since you left, and—Meredith, please, can I—?” She shrugged, setting her handbag on the counter. “Let me think about it.” A slow, playful grin slid across her face. Leon felt heat rise to his cheeks. He crossed his legs again, pressing them together. “Please,” he repeated, bouncing slightly in place. “Come with me to the bathroom,” she said quietly. He exhaled in relief and trailed behind her. The moment they reached the bathroom door, she turned around, blocking his entrance with an arm. “You waited, right?” “Yes,” he rasped. “Good boy.” She unfastened the shortall straps and helped him wriggle out of the garment, leaving him standing there in just his T-shirt, socks, and shoes. “All right, you may go.” She gave him a light nudge inside, standing in the doorway as if monitoring him. Usually, she supervised his toilet visits to make sure he wasn’t disobeying any hidden rules. He quickly tried to focus, lifting the seat and finally letting go. Relief flooded him, but his cheeks were bright red knowing she was right there, watching. Yet this was their arrangement—something he had grown used to, in his own shy way. When he finished, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper of relief. Meredith smiled, nodding with approval. “You did well. I see no accidents,” she remarked, scanning the front of his T-shirt. Leon’s heart still pounded with the aftershock of nearly losing control. “No,” he managed to say. “No accidents.” “Good,” she repeated, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m proud of you for holding it in.” His insides fluttered at the praise. He always craved her approval. Despite the embarrassment, the rules, the slight fear, there was a warm satisfaction that came from pleasing her. “Come on,” she said, leading him out of the bathroom. “Time for lunch. Then we’ll talk about the rest of the day.” Chapter Three: The Strict Afternoon After lunch—sandwiches she prepared while he stood on a stool at the counter, helping slice tomatoes—Meredith announced she’d be working from home the remainder of the day. She had a stack of documents to handle. Leon hovered in the kitchen, uncertain what she expected of him next. She noticed his anxious glance and beckoned him closer. “It’s going to be a long work session. I need to focus,” she said. “I’ll be in the study. You can watch TV or do something quiet in the living room. But no phone calls and no computer games without permission.” Leon nodded, fiddling with the hem of his shortalls. “Okay,” he murmured. “Do I have to do anything… else?” She tilted her head. “You mean chores?” He shrugged. “Chores, or errands, or something.” “I think you can handle cleaning your room,” she said. “I’ll inspect it later. And you are to ask me if you need to use the potty, understood?” He swallowed. “Yes, Meredith.” “All right. Off you go. And remember, I’ll be checking on you.” With that, she swept away into the study, closing the door behind her. Leon glanced at the clock: 12:40 PM. The next scheduled bathroom break was usually around mid-afternoon—unless he asked for special permission, which she sometimes granted, sometimes didn’t. He made his way to the bedroom to tidy up the bedclothes. After that, he dusted and vacuumed a little, determined to impress her by staying productive. As the minutes passed, he periodically glanced at the closed study door, tempted to peek his head in and see if she wanted coffee or something. But he dreaded disturbing her. She hated interruptions when she was concentrating. Eventually, Leon returned to the living room and flopped onto the couch. The cartoon from earlier was still paused. He pressed play, letting the colorful images fill the screen. But he found it hard to relax. There was a growing sense of tension, deep down in his bladder again. Maybe that second glass of water at lunch was a bad idea. He tried to focus on the cartoon’s cheerful scenes—singing characters, bright backdrops, comedic moments. Time crawled: 1:00… 1:15… 1:30… By 2:00, the pressure was noticeable. Leon bit his lip, glancing at the study door again. Should he ask? Meredith might see it as a sign of weakness or defiance if he kept interrupting her schedule. But the alternative was risking an accident. He rummaged through the coffee table’s drawers to distract himself, coming across old board games and puzzle books. He found a half-completed crossword puzzle from weeks ago, the squares filled in by Meredith’s neat penmanship. He sighed, trying to pass the time, but the throbbing need in his abdomen kept gnawing at his thoughts. Finally, at 2:15, he couldn’t take it anymore. He padded softly over to the study door, raising his fist to knock. He hesitated, heart pounding. She was probably on a call. But if he waited any longer, something worse could happen. Summoning courage, he gave a gentle knock. “Who is it?” came her curt voice. “It’s me,” Leon answered timidly. “I… um… I need to ask you something.” “Come in.” He eased the door open. Meredith sat behind a large wooden desk, papers scattered around a laptop. She looked up, removing her glasses. “Yes?” “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said in a low whisper, “but I really need to use the restroom.” Her lips formed a thin line. “Is it that urgent?” Leon shifted on his feet, nodding. “Kind of. I’ve been trying to hold it for a while.” Meredith let out a slow exhale, then glanced at the clock on her computer. “We were going to do that at three o’clock. But you are asking nicely…” He clasped his hands in front of him, trying to stand as still as possible. “Please, Meredith?” She pondered for a moment. “All right. But I’m going to watch, to make sure everything’s done properly. And no fussing.” His eyes widened, but he quickly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Standing up from her chair, she followed him to the bathroom. This time, she didn’t bother to unfasten his shortalls. Instead, she did it for him, as always—though with an air of slight annoyance. “Arms up,” she said, guiding the straps down. Leon turned away from her, aiming to close the door, but she stepped inside too. She always came in with him, but this time the closeness felt more imposing. “Hurry up,” she commanded. Leon’s face was practically on fire with embarrassment, but the need to relieve himself overcame his self-consciousness. He managed to get everything positioned and released. A soft gasp of relief escaped his lips. Meredith observed him carefully. When he was done, she helped him secure his shortalls back into place, snapping the straps. Then she turned on the sink faucet and waited while he washed his hands under her watchful gaze. “I won’t always let you do this,” she said softly. “I have rules for a reason. It’s important you learn how to follow them.” Leon nodded, shoulders slumping. He felt like a child receiving a reprimand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just really couldn’t wait.” She gently ruffled his hair. “Shh. It’s all right. Let’s get you back to your day.” And just like that, she returned to her study, leaving him alone in the hallway with the odd, lingering mix of relief and lingering shame. Chapter Four: Footed Sleeper Evenings Late afternoon arrived without further incident. Leon busied himself around the apartment, occasionally hearing Meredith’s voice from the study. She sounded professional and confident, reminding him of just how impressive she was in her career—and, in turn, how small he felt next to her in every regard. By the time 6:30 PM rolled around, Meredith emerged from the study, stretching her arms overhead. Her sharp gaze swept over the living room and kitchen. “Looks clean,” she commented, nodding at Leon. “Good job.” He felt a small glow of pride at her words. “Thanks,” he said. “Did you finish everything?” “Mostly,” she replied with a sigh. “I still have a bit more to do after dinner. How about you start setting the table while I check something in the bedroom?” Leon hopped up to obey, walking to the kitchen cabinets to gather plates and cutlery. He arranged them neatly, making sure everything was symmetrical—knowing she appreciated order. He placed two glasses and a set of napkins in perfect alignment, then set out the salt and pepper. Satisfied, he stepped back to admire his work. He glanced toward the bedroom, wondering what Meredith was up to. She was probably laying out his pajamas. That’s how every evening went: after dinner, she would dress him in some form of childlike sleepwear—often footed sleepers, sometimes with childish prints. If he was especially fidgety or whiny, she’d zip it in the back, removing his ability to unzip it himself. Some nights, she put on mittens, ensuring he couldn’t fiddle with the zipper. Part of him squirmed at the thought, but another part thrummed with excitement. Despite the occasional embarrassment, he found a peculiar comfort in the ritual of being tucked into bed by her. He relished the warmth of her presence, the bubble of security she created around him. She emerged a few minutes later, a sly smile on her face. “Dinner time,” she announced. “Let’s eat.” Dinner consisted of grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a small portion of rice. Leon ate quietly, occasionally meeting Meredith’s eyes. She asked him about his day, praising him for keeping busy without fussing too much. He felt an uptick of pride at her approval. However, halfway through the meal, she cleared her throat. “I noticed something when I laid out your sleeper,” she began, fixing him with a steady look. “Some of your underwear had faint stains. Care to explain?” Leon nearly choked on his chicken. He stared at her, face burning. “I… I—It’s just… from earlier,” he stammered. “I was holding it for so long, I guess maybe I leaked a little?” She narrowed her eyes. “So you had a little accident?” He stared at his plate, nodding miserably. “Y-yes, but just a tiny bit, I swear.” Meredith set her fork down. “Hmm. That’s unfortunate. After all the trust I gave you to wait until lunch, then again this afternoon. You said you managed, but apparently, you leaked enough to stain your underwear.” Leon gulped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. It wasn’t a full accident. Just a little leak.” “Regardless,” she said, her voice cool, “it shows you’re not fully in control.” His eyes pricked with tears. “Please don’t be mad.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not angry, Leon. But I’m disappointed that you’re struggling with such a simple rule. If waiting is causing you accidents, perhaps we need a more secure solution.” Her words sent a chill through him. “Wh-what do you mean?” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Let’s finish dinner, and we’ll discuss it when we get you ready for bed.” Leon nodded, his appetite diminishing. He forced the rest of his vegetables down in silence, mind spinning with worry and humiliation. He had a feeling he knew what she meant by a ‘more secure solution.’ Chapter Five: An Unexpected Development After dinner, Meredith tasked Leon with loading the dishwasher. He did so mechanically, hands slightly shaking. He couldn’t stop thinking about her cryptic mention of a “secure solution.” Could she mean what he thought she did? She disappeared back into the bedroom. By the time he finished in the kitchen, she called his name. “Leon,” she said, standing in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed. “Come here.” He approached hesitantly, heart hammering. She guided him inside, where the lamp on the nightstand cast a warm glow across the bed. Laid out on the duvet was a footed sleeper, a soft pastel-green color with a subtle pattern of tiny stars. Its zipper ran up the front, but a small padlock mechanism was threaded through the zipper pull. Next to it on the bed was a folded, puffy item. Leon’s stomach dropped. It was a diaper—a large, adult-sized diaper with cartoonish designs across the padding. He stared, speechless. His mind reeled. Sure, Meredith had teased about diapers before, mostly in a half-joking manner when he slipped up or whined too much. But he never thought she’d actually follow through. They were both adults, after all. Even if she treated him as if he were younger, diapers still felt like an extreme step. “I… I…” he started, but no words came out. Meredith cocked her head, her tall frame radiating authority. “These are for nights when you can’t maintain control,” she said calmly. “You’ve proven that you sometimes have accidents while trying to follow the rules. I don’t want you ruining your underwear or the sheets.” Leon’s face burned. “B-but… I—” She held up a hand. “Shh. We’re trying this tonight. Hopefully, it will teach you to be more mindful of your potty breaks when they’re scheduled. If you truly have no accidents, maybe we won’t need these. But for now…” She motioned to the diaper. “Take off your clothes.” He hesitated, a thick lump in his throat, but he knew better than to argue. He undid the shortalls and let them pool at his feet, then peeled off the T-shirt. Meredith patted the bed. “Lie down,” she instructed. Trying not to cry from humiliation, Leon sank onto the mattress, his small frame dwarfed by the plush bed. Meredith picked up the diaper, opening it with a loud crinkle. She maneuvered it under him, adjusting it carefully, then folded it up between his legs. The padding was thick, soft, and unmistakably babyish. Velcro tapes fastened at the sides. She smoothed the tapes, making sure it was snug around his waist. Leon swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. The sensation of the diaper hugging his lower half was strange and overwhelming. The thick bulk between his legs forced them apart slightly. Meredith leaned over him, brushing a stray tear from his cheek. “Don’t be upset,” she cooed. “It’s just for your protection, and for my peace of mind. You might even find it comforting.” He shut his eyes, nodding wordlessly. Next, she guided his feet into the footed sleeper, pulling it up his body. Once his arms were inside, she zipped it up, locking the zipper with a small padlock near the neck. There would be no unzipping this without her key. Leon shivered, suddenly aware he was completely at her mercy. He could feel the diaper pressing against him, a constant reminder of his humiliation. Yet a small, secret part of him felt a twinge of guilty relief. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about leaking if he had to hold it too long… Meredith helped him off the bed, turning him to face the dresser mirror. “Look at that,” she said softly. “It fits you well, doesn’t it?” He caught a glimpse of himself: a short, slender young man clad in a pastel sleeper, locked, and obviously padded. It was juvenile, babyish, and undeniably humiliating. And yet, he felt a warmth coil in his chest, an odd sense of safety. Meredith leaned down, placing a lingering kiss on top of his head. “All set. Now, it’s still early, so you can stay up with me in the living room if you want to watch TV. But I don’t want you messing with that diaper. Understood?” Leon gulped. “Yes, Meredith,” he whispered. With that, she took his hand, leading him out to the living room, where they sat on the couch together. She switched on a TV show, sliding an arm around his shoulders. He rested his cheek against her side, feeling the crinkle of the diaper whenever he shifted. Her warmth enveloped him. Embarrassed as he was, he couldn’t deny the closeness and the comfort he felt pressed against her. They watched quietly for a while, the only sounds being occasional dialogue from the show and the subtle rustle of Leon’s diaper when he moved. Though she was being strict, Meredith also exuded a gentle tenderness. She smoothed her hand over his hair, letting him relax against her. He wondered if this was how children felt when nestled against a mother’s side—but no, that thought was too strange. He was an adult, even if everything about this arrangement suggested otherwise. After an hour or so, she clicked off the TV. “You’re probably tired. Let’s get you in bed.” Leon’s eyes fluttered. “Okay.” She led him back to the bedroom, helping him climb under the covers. The diaper’s thickness made him waddle slightly, but she made no mention of it. Once he was tucked in, she leaned down to give him a soft kiss goodnight. “Sleep well, little one,” she murmured, stroking his cheek. Leon felt a pang in his chest. Despite the embarrassment, he sensed an overpowering love for her. She had so much control, but also so much care. He closed his eyes, nodding. “Goodnight, Meredith,” he whispered. She switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The faint sound of her footsteps retreated, and the door clicked shut, leaving him alone with the soft rustle of his own humiliating bedtime attire. Yet despite everything, he drifted off feeling oddly comforted. Chapter Six: A Morning of Conflicting Emotions Leon awoke the next morning, squinting at the streams of daylight creeping in through the blinds. He tried to stretch, but the footed sleeper resisted his movement. The padlock at the collar was still firmly in place. Immediately, he became aware of the thick diaper around his waist. His heart pounded as he recalled last night’s humiliating bedtime routine. He shifted, feeling a slight warmth in the diaper’s padding. Dread stabbed at his chest. Had he wet himself in his sleep? He pressed his thighs together, and sure enough, the diaper felt heavier and damp. A wave of shame washed over him. He couldn’t remember when it happened. He had dozed off so deeply he never even woke up to use the bathroom. A swirl of conflicting emotions rose inside him: embarrassment, confusion, and, strangely, relief. At least the bed was dry. He heard footsteps approaching. In a moment, Meredith appeared, her tall frame filling the doorway. She smiled softly. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Sleep well?” Leon stammered, unsure how to respond. “I—I guess so.” Her gaze fell to his padded midsection. “Did you stay dry?” she asked, though the faint smirk suggested she already suspected the answer. He glanced away, cheeks aflame. “No,” he muttered. “I… had an accident.” Meredith strode over, unlocking the small padlock at his neckline with a tiny key. She slowly pulled the zipper down, revealing the sagging diaper. She pressed the padding gently, confirming it was indeed wet. Leon squirmed, face contorting with humiliation. “Well,” she said at last, “this just proves my point. You need diapers for bedtime until further notice.” Leon’s eyes stung with tears. He hated feeling so incompetent, but found himself nodding obediently. “Yes, Meredith.” “Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said. She helped him out of the sleeper, rolling it aside to wash later. Then, carefully, she removed the diaper. The cool morning air brushed his skin. She took a pack of wipes from a shelf in the closet—he hadn’t noticed them before—and began gently cleaning him. He winced at the profound vulnerability of it all, but she was methodical and calm, as though caring for a dependent child. When she finished, she gave his hip a reassuring pat. “Now, go shower. I’ll find you some fresh clothes.” Leon didn’t need any more prompting. He hurried to the bathroom, stepping into the warm shower spray. As he scrubbed away the night’s shame, he let out a trembling sigh. Part of him felt humiliated beyond words, but another part felt a surprising sense of freedom in not having to worry about whether he wet the bed or not—Meredith took care of everything. Chapter Seven: Trying to Please Her After the shower, Leon found another childish outfit waiting on the bed: a bright red T-shirt with a cartoon lion on the front, and a pair of elastic-waist shorts that threatened to show the outline of any padded undergarment if he wore them. However, Meredith had not placed a diaper beside them this time. It seemed he was expected to manage on his own during the day—at least for now. He dressed quickly, then padded into the living room where Meredith was sipping coffee. She motioned for him to sit. “I’m going into the office again,” she announced. “I have some errands afterward, so I won’t be back until early evening. Think you can handle it?” Leon nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Her eyes flickered toward his shorts. “No diapers right now, but you’re still required to ask permission for the potty, remember?” A knot formed in his stomach. “B-but… you won’t be here,” he said. “How am I supposed to ask for permission?” “You’ll text me first,” Meredith said, as if it were the most obvious solution. “Wait for my response. If I approve, you can use the bathroom. Understood?” Leon swallowed hard. “Yes.” She arched an eyebrow. “I mean it. If I find out you disobeyed, or if there’s any sign of accidents again, you’ll be wearing a diaper all day tomorrow as well. Clear?” A flush crept over his face. “Clear,” he replied softly. Meredith nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, I have to go. You have your instructions.” She kissed his forehead, grabbed her handbag, and left. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Leon alone with his swirling thoughts once more. It was nearly 9 AM. He had to figure out how to keep himself occupied all day without leaving the apartment, and with the added stress of obtaining permission to use the bathroom via text message. He eyed the clock nervously. Typically, she gave him scheduled breaks: morning, midday, afternoon, evening. But now the dynamic was different—he had to ask every single time. Leon sighed, trying to calm the flutter in his belly. “I can do this,” he whispered to himself, rummaging around the kitchen for a small breakfast. He settled on cereal, though he couldn’t help but measure how much milk and juice he poured, terrified of needing to go too soon. Chapter Eight: Accidents, Consequences, and Confessions By lunchtime, Leon’s nerves were already shot. He’d texted Meredith around 11, asking if he could go to the bathroom. She replied after ten agonizing minutes of waiting, finally granting permission. He managed to avoid an accident that time. But around 1 PM, as he sat quietly in the living room reading a book, he felt another urge. He checked the time. Meredith had mentioned she’d be in an important meeting from 1 to 2 PM, so he hesitated. If she was in the meeting, she might not respond to texts promptly. Should he send her a message anyway and risk bothering her? Or should he hold it, hoping she’d be free soon? Eventually, he sent her a short text: “Hi, Meredith. May I please use the bathroom?” The minutes passed. No response. The minutes turned to a half-hour. Leon began to pace, sipping his water nervously, which only made things worse. By 1:40, he was practically dancing in place, pressing his thighs together. Still nothing. He sent another, more urgent text: “Please, Meredith. It’s an emergency.” At 1:50, he still hadn’t heard from her. His bladder burned, and tears pricked his eyes. He wanted desperately to follow her rule, but he was about to burst. Could he risk it? Maybe she wouldn’t mind if he used the bathroom since it was an actual emergency. But she had been so explicit. Disobeying meant guaranteed diapers the next day. Could he endure that shame again? He fidgeted, leaning against the wall, clenching every muscle he could. The world around him seemed to blur in a haze of desperation. 1:55… Leon couldn’t hold it. With a choked sob, he felt warmth flood his shorts. The liquid trickled down his legs, pooling on the floor. He froze, horrified. His cheeks burned with shame as he stood there in a puddle. He’d truly wet himself in the living room, at eighteen years old. Trembling, he grabbed paper towels, trying to mop up the evidence of his accident. He peeled off his sodden shorts and underwear, tossing them into the washing machine, desperately hoping to hide the mess before Meredith returned. But he couldn’t deny what had happened. He had broken the rule—except he hadn’t, had he? He’d tried to get permission, but she never responded. At 2:05, his phone buzzed. Meredith’s text appeared: “Yes, you can go now. Sorry for the delay.” Leon nearly burst into tears. It was too late. Chapter Nine: Love and Control Meredith arrived home around 5 PM. Leon was perched anxiously on the couch in a fresh pair of shorts, heart hammering. The moment she entered, he felt tears pricking his eyes. He needed to confess before she discovered the evidence. She set her purse down and fixed him with an expectant stare. “Well, did everything go smoothly?” Leon stood, hands shaking. “I—I tried. I texted you. Twice,” he said. “You didn’t respond until it was too late.” His voice trembled with shame. “I had an accident.” She pressed her lips together. “Where?” “In the living room,” he muttered, glancing down. “I cleaned it up right away. I’m sorry.” Meredith rubbed her temple. “Leon,” she began in a weary tone, “I gave you one simple rule. Did you try waiting or…?” He shook his head. “I did wait. I tried to hold it until you responded. But then I—I couldn’t anymore.” She sighed, stepping closer to him. He braced himself for anger, but instead, she pulled him into a loose embrace. He smelled the faint perfume in her hair. “Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay. Accidents happen when you’re forced to wait like that.” Leon buried his face against her, tears wetting her blouse. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry.” Meredith patted his back. “I know you tried. This arrangement might be too strict for your body to handle. Maybe I pushed you too far.” He blinked, pulling back, confused. “You… you think so?” She nodded, cupping his cheek. “Leon, I want to take care of you. I love you. But if these rules cause you distress and accidents, maybe we need to adjust them.” Leon stared up at her, feeling both relief and a pang of disappointment. As restrictive as the rules were, a part of him craved her control. “I… I don’t want to disappoint you,” he whispered. She kissed his forehead. “My sweet boy, you could never truly disappoint me if you’re honest with me. Let’s find a way that keeps you comfortable without accidents, all right?” He nodded, eyes stinging. “Yes, Meredith.” She smoothed down his hair. “That said, the diapers at night will continue. It’s clear you’re still having trouble staying dry. And maybe we’ll have you wear them during the day if you’re feeling uncertain. No more holding it to the point of accidents. Agreed?” A complicated mix of dread and comfort flooded him. “Agreed,” he said softly. That evening, after a light dinner and some shared relaxation time on the couch, Meredith once more led him to the bedroom. She had prepared another diaper and the familiar pastel-green sleeper, complete with the back-zip design. This time, he didn’t resist. He let her tape the diaper around his waist, welcoming the soft, bulky security. He noticed that she had sewn a small loop at the back of the sleeper’s collar, likely where she’d attach the padlock or a similar clasp. She pulled it up his body, sealing him in. Leon sighed as she locked him into the sleeper. Oddly enough, he felt relief. There would be no more frantic dashes or accidents; if it happened, at least he was protected. He laid down on the bed, exhaling the tension of the day. “Tomorrow, we can talk more about your potty schedule,” Meredith said, brushing a hand through his hair. “I still want you to ask permission, but we’ll give you a diaper if I’m away. That way, you won’t have to worry.” Leon looked up at her, a small smile ghosting his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered. She returned the smile, bending low to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. “I love you, little one.” Tears threatened to surface again, but they were tears of gratitude this time. “I love you too,” he choked out. Settling down under the covers, he listened to the calming sound of her breathing as she tucked him in. Despite the infantile attire, or perhaps because of it, a sense of safety blossomed in his chest. Meredith was demanding, controlling, and sometimes completely over the top—but she was also caring, nurturing, and, above all, his. Chapter Ten: Renewed Determination Despite the tension and embarrassment of Leon’s accident in Chapter Nine, the next morning dawned with a surprising sense of calm in the apartment. The living room was bathed in golden light as Leon padded out from the bedroom, diaper rustling softly beneath the pastel-green footed sleeper. He still wore the back-zip pajamas because Meredith—early to rise and already dressed in slacks and a blouse—wanted to supervise his morning routine. “Good morning,” she greeted, looking up from her laptop on the couch. “Sleep okay?” Leon nodded, cheeks flushing with the familiar bashfulness that came from being locked into his sleeper all night. “Yes,” he murmured, eyes drifting to the floor. “Thank you.” Meredith patted the cushion beside her, beckoning him to sit. The couch dipped under her weight as she scooted closer, one arm resting comfortably over his shoulders. “Let’s see how you did,” she said, reaching for the small lock at his collar. Her tone was neither cruel nor mocking—it was simply matter-of-fact, the caring severity of someone who expected to find a wet diaper. She withdrew the key from her pocket and unlocked the tab securing the zipper. The faint click sent a tremor of apprehension through Leon. Gently, she pulled the zipper down, revealing the thick, slightly damp diaper around his waist. A sigh escaped her lips—part relief, part acknowledgment. “Not too bad,” she said. “Still wet, but not soaked.” Leon rubbed his arms, noticing goosebumps from the morning chill. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically. She shook her head. “There’s no need to apologize every time. We’ve talked about this. Diapers are here to help until you learn to manage. And if you can’t, well… that’s okay too. We’ll make sure you’re protected.” A swirl of conflicting emotion swept through him. He both hated and secretly welcomed the security of her strict care. Even if it made him feel smaller, something about her unwavering control comforted him. “All right,” Meredith said, gently pressing her warm palm against his upper back. “Let’s get you changed and dressed. We have errands today.” Leon exhaled a soft sigh of resignation. There was never any real choice in the matter—only the understanding that, under her guidance, he would be taken care of. She walked him to the bedroom, where a fresh diaper and a modest outfit lay waiting on the neatly made bed. This time, he noticed the diapers were in the open, lined up on a shelf—obviously a new normal. “You’ll wear this for the day,” she said, tapping the folded padding. “I have a busy schedule, and I can’t always answer your texts immediately. So, no accidents in your shorts this time.” Leon’s face burned with a mixture of shame and relief. “Yes, Meredith,” he murmured obediently. She set about changing him, wiping him down before securing the tapes snug around his hips. With practiced ease, she helped him step into a pair of casual khaki shorts and a short-sleeve polo that—thankfully—didn’t look too childish. However, as soon as he stood up, the outline of the diaper was unmistakable beneath the fabric, giving him a slight waddle. He fidgeted, unsure how to hide it. Meredith tilted his chin up with her finger. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “You’re under my protection. I won’t let anyone see more than necessary. Now, get your shoes on. We’re heading out soon.” Leon swallowed hard, nodding. A renewed determination to trust her—and to obey her strict potty rules—settled in his chest. If wearing a diaper in public was the price to avoid accidents, he would accept it. After all, he loved her. And in his own private way, he loved this nurturing dominance she provided. Chapter Eleven: An Outing of Discomfort Meredith parked the car outside a bustling shopping center, sunlight glinting off the polished vehicles in the lot. Leon sat in the passenger seat, heart thumping. He hadn’t been outside in a diaper often—usually, Meredith arranged short, discreet errands or handled them alone. Yet here they were, preparing for a full afternoon of shopping. He was diapered under his khaki shorts, his every movement producing a barely audible crinkle. Fear gnawed at him. What if someone heard? What if someone noticed the slight bulge? Meredith unfastened her seatbelt, turning toward him. “Ready?” Leon’s fingers twisted in his lap. “I—yes,” he said, voice trembling. “But—do I really have to wear this in public?” A trace of amusement danced across Meredith’s features, but she tempered it with understanding. “Yes, Leon. You know the rules. You’ve had accidents, and I can’t keep leaving you alone in the apartment every time I need to run errands. This is safer.” His cheeks burned a deep crimson. “I—I understand,” he managed. She offered a small, reassuring smile before exiting the car. Reluctantly, Leon followed, stepping onto the asphalt. The sensation of the diaper’s padding made his walk slightly bow-legged. He glanced around nervously, certain everyone would see. But the world carried on, no one giving him more than a passing glance. It was a busy weekend afternoon: couples strolling hand in hand, parents corralling rambunctious kids, elderly folks lugging grocery bags. No one seemed to notice the shy, diminutive eighteen-year-old waddling after his tall girlfriend. Meredith led him through a few stores, picking up home essentials and groceries. She maintained a calm composure, instructing him softly if she wanted help grabbing an item. Occasionally, she’d slip her arm around his shoulders, guiding him through the crowd. Despite the unwavering sense of embarrassment, Leon felt a protective warmth emanating from her touch. Midway through their errands, as they stopped at a store to browse kitchen utensils, Leon’s eyes widened. The dull pressure in his bladder reminded him of an awkward truth: if he needed to use the bathroom, he had to ask Meredith. And given their conversation, he suspected she might make him use the diaper instead—especially in a public restroom scenario where it might be less private. Swallowing hard, he tugged lightly at her sleeve. “Meredith?” he whispered. She was examining a set of ceramic bowls but turned at his soft plea. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” “I… I have to go,” he admitted, cheeks blazing. “Number one.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Hmm. Well, we could go to the bathroom. But then I’d have to help you remove everything.” Her tone was sympathetic yet firm. “It might be easier if you just let your diaper handle it. That’s what it’s for.” Leon felt a knot twist in his stomach. Wet himself on purpose, in a public store? The thought horrified him. But she was right—unfastening and refastening a taped diaper in a public restroom stall seemed equally daunting. “Let’s finish shopping,” she said in a low voice. “If it’s urgent, use your diaper. Then I’ll change you when we get home.” Leon’s entire face felt aflame. But he couldn’t argue; she was in charge. He stayed close to her side, trying to will his bladder to remain calm. Yet within minutes, the urge intensified. Eventually, he yielded, letting go in subtle spurts, feeling warmth spread through the padding. His heart thumped—he was wetting himself in the middle of a store, next to his girlfriend. It was humiliating and strangely intimate. By the time they checked out and returned to the car, the diaper clung heavily to his skin. Meredith noticed the slight sag, her expression shifting to one of tender concern. “You okay?” she asked, voice gentle. He nodded, too humiliated to speak. As they climbed back into the car, he squirmed against the seat, the wet diaper pressing against him. Meredith placed a comforting hand on his thigh and squeezed. It was a reminder that she was proud of him for following the rules—odd though those rules might be. They drove home in silence, tension coiling in his chest. Yet beneath it all, a flutter of relief swirled: he had obeyed her. He had done what she said, and there was a strange sense of accomplishment in that submission. Maybe he was just relieved to know she’d soon change him, freeing him from the clammy discomfort. Leon stared out the window, cheeks still burning, as he braced himself for the next step: reporting his soggy diaper to Meredith like a dependent child. And, in a bittersweet twist, he realized that he no longer felt quite as anxious about it—because he trusted her. Chapter Twelve: Adjusting and Accepting When they arrived home, Meredith wasted no time ushering Leon to the bedroom. He felt her warm hand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, guiding him inside. The memory of his wet diaper burned in his mind, a tangible reminder of how little control he was supposed to have. “Let’s get you changed,” she said, her voice low and calm, almost comforting. Leon perched on the edge of the bed, arms folded uncertainly. Meredith stepped into the closet, retrieving a pack of wipes and another diaper from the growing stash. The plastic packaging crinkled loudly as she pulled one out. He lifted his hips obediently, allowing her to peel down his shorts. A wave of cool air brushed his thighs, intensifying the humiliating awareness of the heavy, sagging diaper around his waist. Her expression remained calm—patient, even—like a caretaker simply doing what had to be done. “You did well,” she murmured as she undid the tapes. “I know it must have been scary.” Leon swallowed, cheeks reddening. “It was,” he admitted softly. “I… I don’t like doing that in public. But… if it’s what you want—” She set the soaked diaper aside, using a gentle wipe to clean him. “It’s not about what I want,” she corrected him, though her tone hinted otherwise. “It’s about what works for us. You’re prone to accidents. I don’t want you stressed or embarrassed about sneaking off to the bathroom. A diaper solves that.” He nodded, though a twinge of confusion fluttered in his stomach. Part of him wondered if he was truly that helpless, or if her controlling nature had simply convinced him so. Yet her nurturing presence soothed away his doubts. Feeling the soft, fresh diaper taped securely around his waist brought a wave of both shame and relief. Once she finished, she handed him a pair of comfortable sweatpants. “Wear these for the rest of the day,” she said, then paused, meeting his gaze. “Leon, if you need to use the bathroom and I’m around, I’ll help you remove everything. But if you’re alone, you should use your diaper, okay? No more accidents on the floor or in your underwear.” A small nod was all he could manage. “Yes, Meredith.” Her eyes seemed to soften. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re doing great. I’m proud of how cooperative you’ve been.” That simple praise flooded him with an inexplicable warmth. He realized how deeply he craved her approval. Every small gesture of reassurance seemed to justify the surrender he felt, the childlike acceptance of her rules. It was disorienting, yet undeniably comforting. The rest of the evening fell into a gentle rhythm. She guided him through a few household tasks—organizing drawers, vacuuming the living room—activities that he performed in his thick, padded undergarment, constantly aware of the faint crinkle with each step. Yet by nightfall, he realized he wasn’t quite as self-conscious as before. He could move freely, even forgetting at times that a diaper was taped around his waist. And so, as bedtime approached, Meredith once again led him through the ritual: a final bathroom check under her supervision, then a fresh night diaper, followed by a whimsical footed sleeper zipped and locked at the back. She tucked him in, pressed a goodnight kiss to his forehead, and switched off the lamp. In the darkness, Leon sighed. This new sense of routine—of wearing diapers day and night—didn’t feel quite as alien as it once had. He wondered if that was a good thing, or if it simply meant he was losing pieces of his adulthood. But his mind didn’t dwell on it long. Exhaustion took him, and he drifted off, lulled by the gentle rustle of his padded underwear and the knowledge that Meredith was proud of him. Chapter Thirteen: Testing Boundaries The days rolled by in a blur of routine: breakfast together, a diaper check, dressing in youthful clothes Meredith chose, occasional errands if she needed something, and always the unwavering rule of requesting permission—or using his diaper—whenever nature called. Leon found himself settling into the pattern with surprising ease. But with familiarity came curiosity—and a streak of rebellion. One afternoon, Meredith stepped out to pick up a package from the building’s reception desk. She instructed Leon to remain in the apartment, as usual. Sinking onto the living room couch, Leon felt the snug pull of his diaper around his hips, reminding him of his constant lack of autonomy. A stray thought nudged at him. What if he tried removing the diaper himself, just to see if he could? Perhaps he’d use the toilet without waiting for her. He was an adult—eighteen, yes, and short, but perfectly capable of managing the simplest bodily functions without a caretaker’s guidance. Right? The idea bloomed into a daring impulse. Meredith wouldn’t be gone long. If he acted quickly, he could strip off the diaper, use the bathroom, and tape it back in place—she might never know, unless she checked the tapes closely. His heart pounded. Could he pull it off? With trembling hands, he stood and slipped into the bedroom, shutting the door. He stared at himself in the dresser mirror—his small frame swaddled in a childlike T-shirt and an unmistakable diaper bulge. Taking a shaky breath, he peeled down his sweatpants to reveal the tapes. He’d never removed them on his own; Meredith always did it for him. Nervous excitement thrummed in his veins. Slowly, he reached for one of the tapes, pulling it free with a soft ripping sound. He paused, listening for footsteps or voices in the hallway. Silence. Emboldened, he undid the second tape. A moment later, the diaper slid to the floor with a dull thud. For the first time in days, he felt the cool air against his bare skin. But just as he turned to head for the bathroom, he heard the distinctive jingle of keys at the front door. Panic shot through him. He scrambled, trying to lift the diaper back into place, fumbling with the tapes. His hands shook so badly that he couldn’t align them properly. “Leon?” Meredith’s voice, suddenly closer than he expected. He froze, a terrible realization sinking in: she had the keys, and the apartment door was already open. He pictured her stepping inside, noticing the bedroom door closed. Any second now, she’d be here. His eyes darted around for a place to hide. His heart hammered. The diaper was half-secured, one tape crooked, the other barely stuck to the front panel. Before he could fully fix it, the bedroom door opened. Meredith stood in the threshold, eyebrows arched. Her gaze swept over him—pants around his ankles, the diaper precariously attached, guilt shining in his eyes. He swallowed, feeling a wave of mortification so intense it made him dizzy. She took a measured step forward, an unreadable expression on her face. “Care to explain?” she asked softly, though her tone carried the weight of disappointment. Leon’s eyes stung with imminent tears. “I—I just…” His voice wavered. “I wanted to use the toilet. By myself.” Silence stretched. Then she shut the door behind her, crossing her arms. The tension in the room was palpable. “You know the rules,” she said quietly. “If you need the toilet and I’m not here, you use your diaper or wait.” He bit his lip, tears blurring his vision. “I—I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to prove I could do it on my own.” Meredith’s gaze softened slightly, though her posture remained firm. “Get on the bed,” she said, nodding toward the mattress. “Lie down.” He obeyed, shuffling awkwardly and sinking onto the comforter. She followed, kneeling beside him, methodically reattaching the diaper’s tapes. Though her movements were gentle, a current of disappointment tinged the air. “I’m not punishing you because you need help,” she explained, voice subdued. “I’m upset because you broke trust. You tried to remove the diaper behind my back instead of talking to me.” Tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just feel so… helpless sometimes.” Meredith’s expression softened further. She cupped his cheek, brushing a tear away with her thumb. “I know it can be hard. But we made an agreement. I need you to respect it.” He nodded miserably. “I will… I promise.” She helped him stand, pulling his sweatpants up over the re-secured diaper. Then, with surprising tenderness, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing him against her tall frame. “You’ll be wearing thicker diapers for a while,” she murmured. “And I’ll check them more often. I have to be sure I can trust you.” Leon’s chest clenched. The idea of bigger, more conspicuous padding made his stomach sink. Yet he deserved it, he supposed, for breaking the rules. “I understand,” he said hoarsely, arms sliding around her waist. She held him quietly for a moment, letting the tension ebb. He felt her lips graze his temple, a soft, reassuring gesture. The conflict between frustration and comfort roiled inside him. Part of him wanted more independence; part of him felt relief that she refused to let him fend for himself. Without further discussion, she led him back to the living room, returning to their daily routine. But now a new tension lingered—an unspoken reminder that she was always in control, and that if he tried to break free, the rules would only tighten. And for reasons that baffled him, a small, conflicted part of Leon found a flicker of solace in that unwavering authority. Chapter Fourteen: Closer Under Stricter Rules The weeks following Leon’s failed act of independence were marked by intensified control. Meredith insisted on thicker diapers, even during short outings. His schedule became more rigid. Now, each morning after breakfast, she’d conduct a “diaper check” to ensure he was properly padded and that he hadn’t tampered with the tapes. Whenever she left him alone, she’d set timeframes for when he could text or call. Sometimes she’d even leave the bedroom door open so she could keep an eye on him from other parts of the apartment. At first, Leon felt smothered—his guilt over lying to her was matched only by the frustration of feeling like a child. Yet something unexpected blossomed in the midst of these stricter measures: an undeniable closeness. Each small act of nurturing drew them nearer in an odd, secret way. When Meredith changed him out of a soggy diaper with gentle reassurance, he felt loved. When she praised him for complying with his schedule, he felt proud. Their bond, once overshadowed by fear and embarrassment, grew into a new kind of intimacy. It happened late one evening, as she was zipping him into a fresh footed sleeper. He lay on the bed, arms folded, face flushed, while she carefully aligned the zipper. Once it was done, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips—a kiss that, for the first time, felt more than protective. There was a hint of passion, an adult warmth. Leon’s heart fluttered. She pulled away slowly. “I love taking care of you,” she whispered, her voice low and husky in the dim bedroom light. “Even if you test my patience sometimes.” Leon swallowed, eyes shining. “I love you,” he breathed, the admission trembling with vulnerability. “I—I really do.” She brushed a hand over his cheek, hooking a finger around the sleeper’s collar to ensure it was snug. “I know,” she replied, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “That’s why this works—because we trust each other, don’t we?” He nodded. “I’m sorry about before… trying to remove the diaper on my own. I won’t do it again.” Meredith’s smile softened. “I believe you,” she said, then locked the tiny clasp at the nape of his neck. The soft clink of metal felt final. “Now, get some rest.” With that, she flicked off the overhead light, leaving only a bedside lamp. He burrowed under the covers while she settled beside him for a moment, stroking his hair as though soothing a restless child. The gentle caress lulled him into a half-doze, each breath in tandem with the quiet hiss of air conditioning. He felt a surge of affection so strong it was almost painful. Yes, her rules could be stifling. Yes, he sometimes hated feeling dependent. But she was also his haven—his protector, who willingly took on this responsibility to keep him safe and stress-free. In that sense, the diapers, the childish clothes, and the locked sleepers were all expressions of her unwavering commitment. Eventually, she stood to leave, switching off the lamp entirely. “Goodnight, little one,” she whispered, her voice floating through the darkness. Leon closed his eyes, sinking into the pillow with a soft rustle of crinkling plastic. “Goodnight,” he managed, comforted by her presence even as she slipped away. And as he drifted into sleep, he wondered if this deepening closeness was worth the cost of his dwindling autonomy. Chapter Fifteen: The Unshakable Bond Morning light found Leon stirring early, roused by a nagging pressure in his bladder. He blinked sleep from his eyes, momentarily forgetting the confines of his locked footed sleeper. As he attempted to swing his legs over the side of the bed, the thick padding between them reminded him precisely of his predicament. For a fleeting second, panic seized him—he needed to go, and there was no easy way out. But then memory returned in a warm rush: Meredith. She would help him. He just had to call out. “Meredith?” he croaked softly, clearing his throat. “Meredith!” A moment later, the bedroom door opened, revealing her tall silhouette, hair in a loose ponytail. She flicked on the lamp, letting a soft glow illuminate her concerned face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Leon swallowed, cheeks warming. “I—uh, need the bathroom. Please.” Her gaze flickered to the locked collar of his sleeper, then down to his diaper. “Let’s see…” she murmured. She retrieved the key from the dresser and came closer. “We’ll get you out. Hold on.” He exhaled shakily as she unlocked the small metal clasp, unzipped him, and peeled open the footed pajamas. The crisp air prickled his skin. Within seconds, he was free—except for the diaper taped tightly around him. “Stand up,” she directed, guiding him gently. He pressed his thighs together, bladder now pleading for release. She plucked at the diaper’s tapes, revealing his bare hips. “All set,” she announced. Without waiting another second, Leon darted to the bathroom. This time, there was no condescending observation or requirement to text for permission—she was right there, consenting to let him go. Relief washed over him, both physically and emotionally. When he finished, Meredith stood by the sink, watching calmly. Wordlessly, she handed him a fresh diaper, indicating he should rejoin her in the bedroom. Leon obeyed, though he felt a flicker of pride. She was letting him do part of it himself—at least carrying the diaper. Back in the bedroom, he lay on the bed, anticipating her usual routine of taping him up. But she surprised him by placing the diaper in his hands. “Try,” she said softly. His eyes widened. “You… you want me to do it?” She nodded, an encouraging smile on her lips. “Yes. Go on, show me.” Nervous but determined, Leon unfolded the diaper. He positioned it under himself, fumbling with the tapes. Twice, the adhesive caught on the wrong spot, creating crooked wings. Meredith watched patiently, offering occasional suggestions: “Bring it up a bit higher in front,” or “Tighten the left tape.” After some clumsy effort, he managed a passable fit. It felt snug—but not quite as neat as when she did it. Still, a wave of satisfaction rippled through him. The partial freedom of dressing himself was exhilarating, even if the result was still a diaper. Meredith patted the front. “Good job,” she praised. “Now, it’s not perfect, but it’ll hold for a while.” He beamed, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The subtle acknowledgment that he could do something as basic as tape on his own diaper, under her supervision, felt like an important step. It was a small slice of autonomy within the realm of her control. “We’ll see how you manage,” she continued, smoothing down his hair. “If you do well, maybe I’ll let you take more responsibility for your changes—under my guidance, of course.” Leon nodded, heart fluttering. “Thank you,” he whispered earnestly. In that moment, a new understanding passed between them. Their bond was unshakable now, grounded not just in her dominance but in a shared willingness to adapt. She’d grown stricter after he broke her trust, but she also recognized his desire for a smidge of independence. They didn’t need to be locked in an endless cycle of parent and child. They were lovers, partners—albeit in a very unconventional arrangement. And so, as Meredith helped him into a pair of soft lounge pants, the corners of her mouth turned up in a gentle smile. “Let’s go have breakfast,” she said, lacing her fingers through his and giving him a tender squeeze. Leon squeezed back, feeling the padded bulk beneath his pants but no longer drowning in shame. Yes, it was still embarrassing, and he still had rules and limitations, but he was beginning to realize that, at the core of it all, they truly cared for each other. Their relationship wasn’t defined by his size or her control, but by the intimacy and trust they cultivated day by day. He followed her out to the kitchen, diaper rustling in time with his step. Love blossomed in his chest, soft and certain. They were forging a balance—one where she guided him with structure, and he offered devotion and openness in return. For the first time since this odd journey began, Leon felt confident that despite the diapers, the childish clothes, and the potty rules, he and Meredith were heading toward something healthy and lasting: a bond that neither of them ever wanted to break. Epilogue A few months later, their small apartment felt more like a sanctuary than ever. The bedroom closet now housed a full set of neatly stacked diapers and childish outfits. A special drawer even contained footed sleepers with various colors and prints. Leon sometimes giggled at just how large their “babyish” collection had grown—and how routine it had become to wear them. But if anyone asked how they lived, they would never fully understand the tapestry of love and control woven into their day-to-day. Leon was still small for his age, and Meredith still stood a majestic six foot one—always a striking figure next to him. Yet their dynamic had evolved into a fluid dance between caretaker and lover, discipline and compassion. Most mornings, Leon took pride in taping on his own diaper under Meredith’s watchful eye, a sign of trust regained after his earlier missteps. He appreciated that small allowance of autonomy, even if the end result—padded underwear—remained the same. They had found a middle ground: Leon could participate in the process while still relying on Meredith’s guidance and final approval. Their schedules remained structured: breakfast together, chores or errands, and occasional nights out when Meredith felt he could handle a discrete pull-up beneath carefully chosen clothes. She insisted on the same strict potty rules—permission required, or else using his diaper. Yet she was more flexible in granting him access to the toilet if he asked politely and the timing worked. She even allowed him the small triumph of undressing himself sometimes, though major clothing changes—especially diaper changes—were still primarily her domain. And Leon discovered that, in this near-constant state of managed dependency, he found security. The embarrassment never fully disappeared—he still blushed whenever she patted his diaper to check for wetness in front of a mirror, or when she zipped him into a footed sleeper hours before bedtime. But he’d come to enjoy the closeness, the protective embrace of her authority. Their love life thrived, too, in its own secret way. While the story behind their padded routines and potty rules was not something they shared with others, it forged a profound trust between them. She cradled him with a mix of parental warmth and adult desire, bridging the gap between caretaker and partner. He, in turn, found joy in pleasing her—accepting her rules, even appreciating them, for what they gave him in return. On a crisp, clear morning, they stood together in the living room, the sun casting bright rectangles across the floor. Meredith had just finished checking his diaper—still dry—and was reminding him of his chores for the day. Leon stared up at her, feeling every inch the smaller man, yet entirely content. “Remember,” she was saying in that measured tone, “if you need the potty, you call me or text me. If I don’t answer, you use the diaper. No accidents on the floor.” “Yes, Meredith,” Leon responded readily. Then, unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his cheek against her torso. “Thank you,” he whispered, though he wasn’t quite sure for what—perhaps for everything. She laughed softly, brushing a hand over his hair. “You’re welcome, little one. Now off you go.” And so their life continued—a carefully balanced blend of loving dominance and welcomed submission, of soft crinkles and locked sleepers, of structure and devotion. In the end, their bond had become unbreakable: the tall, commanding woman and her tiny, adoring boyfriend, joined in a private world of mutual care and trust. Though it defied outside understanding, for them, it was perfect. And in the comfort of that shared knowledge, they closed the door to the rest of the world, content to exist precisely as they were—together.
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Ruby was a small high school graduate currently looking for a job to save money to move in to her own apartment
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Rei was on her way home from school blushing after she had another accident “I hope mommy doesn’t find out I’ll have to be careful getting these dirty clothes in the laundry
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***This story is an alternative time-line to ours about the post covid pandemic era. *** -Prelude Setup- "The year is 2022, the last 2 and a half years Covid 19 has reaped havoc on society, but now with things opening back up and every day taking more and more steps forward from quarantine and masks more questions arise. The one on our table today is schooling. Now the switch to E-learning was not fast nor easy, many kids didn't learn what the needed too, or the way they needed too. We have many kids who regressed in not only their studies but in maturity, social face to face, and in unfortunately many cases out of the house habits. We currently have statistics of grades k thru 12 on the screen behind me. As you can see these are the most common issues students are having. In k thru 6, most students have regressed in mathematics, reading and writing. They also have a steep up tick in bathroom accidents and other social behaviors such as thumb sucking, whining, and "wanting mommy". We believe these are all related. Also with grades 5 thru 12 we are seeing issues with confidence, low test scores, unpreparedness, and social awkwardness." The sharped dressed woman at the front of the meeting room stood tall as she took off her glasses looking at the screen behind her. "I, Dr. Jasmine Hartwell propose this... (she lays out 13 tests on the table in front of her labeled pre-k all the way thru 12 grade) These are placement tests. Every student in this district will take these tests and their scores will tell us where they are at academically, in addition each student will be sent a packet at home to be filled out by their guardian to get the full scope of how both mature and socially stable each child is. This school district along with 4 others have been chosen across the US to participate in this to see if a wide roll out is what this country needs. Now there are limits to placements from these results current 16, 17 and 18 year old may not place below 8th grade if then need to we will have a special class set for them. 12 and up may not be placed below K under 12 is fair game. Now on the flip side of this NO student will be moving up due to test scores. This is to see if they need help or not. And in addition we will have multiple staff members here to help in transition down graders will need, either maybe a councilor or a trained specialist to help them calm down and fit in better with their new grade and age range. If there is any questions email them to me. And please keep you emotions at the door during these tests this is the best for us and them. Thank you tests will start tomorrow." Dr. Hartwell says closing her book putting her glasses away and walks out of the meeting leaving all the teachers, principles and faculty in a gasp. The next day as soon as it hit 10am every student across Willow's Green School District was sat down for the test about the same time all the parents were also filling out their packet about their sons and daughters being as honest as they can. By 4pm that same day most families were back home discussing the day, some over dinner, some in a quiet room, some scared, some over confident. But all had the weekend to think, enjoy, and prepare for what Monday brings with the test results. All weekend long teachers and government appointed educational professionals would be grading and judging test and packets a like. By Monday the kids were back in school in their usual classes. The district of a little over 8 hundred kids was ready and waiting for how crazy the day was about to become. Busses were outside the high school, middle school, and elementary waiting to bring the kids who were labeled as down graders where they needed to go. Parents all got text messages at the same time as the schools were giving out the results to the kids. In total two thirds of the kids were being down graded! The senior and junior classes didn't see much loss, sophomore and freshman classes had almost half drown graded at least one grade. The middle school was hit the worst over half of the current middle school was being down graded to elementary. While half the elementary was being down graded, 65 kids across k thru 5 were send back to pre k (most of the kindergarteners) and only a few preschoolers fell out of pre k. The busses gathered the kids some in hysterics, some angry, and a few in just shock. This story will follow 3 family's effected by this government test in Willow's Green school district. I'm sorry this intro was so long, but I've been wanting to write this story for a while and I have a lot of thoughts. I might also post this on writing.com as an interactive depending on feed back. Stop by seen for chapter 1! Thank you!
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This story is a sequel of my former story Happy Family and Double R project. Allusions and references to those stories are included. Happy Family Double R project Part 1: “Mommy, are you serious? Your idea is crazy!” Ashley Compton shook her head vigorously. “Why, Ashley? I’m your mother and will do everything to make you happy,” Victoria Davis smiled at her daughter. Victoria ‘s idea really looked crazy. Ashley was barren and she desperately desired for children. However, she wouldn’t like to adopt them. Victoria offered her help, but that help was slightly unorthodox. Several mothers helped their barren daughters by carrying their children in their own womb, but Ashley was barren and didn’t have ova that could be fertilized and implanted into Victoria’s womb. Victoria’s plan was quite different. She wanted to take part in an experiment. As the Happy Family affair was over and the regression machine was confiscated by the county, experiments were running at the city university. Later, the machine was abused by the army and secret services in the scandalous Double R project. Now, the machine was still working, and a new phase of the experiments was started. Volunteers were wanted to undergo the regression. Victoria intended to apply for an experiment and get regressed and become Ashley’s child. It looked crazy indeed. “Mommy, you will become my daughter. I can’t imagine it,” Ashley still didn’t believe what she heard. “Do you know a better person than your loving mommy? I’m divorced and live alone mostly. Now I could live with you without being the troublesome mother-in-law.” “Are you not afraid of this change? You will become a toddler and probably stay a toddler forever. According to my knowledge, nobody was able to grow up except for the double-R-project victims.” “We can ask about it. Maybe there is an advance in the research.” “Okay, but I wouldn’t like to agree to your idea all alone. I think we should ask my brother at least; after all you are his mother, too.” “Right, Ashley, we can ask him first. Now tell me how you imagine my regressed form? How old should I be?” “I don’t know, mommy. Maybe two or three? I’d like to have a small child rather than start with a teenage girl. I don’t mind if you stay an eternal toddler. It is my secret dream, mom. A cute toddler is everything I long for.” “Okay, I’m also surprised by my own idea, but it is somehow attractive; it will be my second childhood. Let’s call Harry and arrange a family meeting to discuss my idea.” The next weekend, the family meeting took place. Victoria presented her idea to Harry, his wife Eileen and their three children – Charlie, Annie and Susie. Charlie, the oldest child, was 12. He was a clever boy and good student. His sister Annie was 8 and the youngest girl Susan was 3. Harry was amused by the idea and didn’t mind it at all. “I will have a niece instead of mom,” he grinned, and Eileen nodded. She was a good mother and loved her children deeply. Harry’s children reacted differently. “Daddy, we will lose our grandma,” Charlie was shocked by the idea. “We won’t lose her, Charlie,” Susan shook her little head, “she will be as little as I am,” Susie also was clever and intelligent, but she still was a little girl and accepted the change easily. “Susie, you will have a playmate,” Annie added. “Okay. Would you like to have a cousin then?” Victoria asked them that important question. “Yeah, Granny,” they answered almost unisono; Charlie hesitated for a short moment. “Well, get ready then. I will return as your new cousin soon,” she smiled at them. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Your idea sounds crazy, madam,” the lab assistant shook his head when Victoria explained her application and its reason, “but I have to agree with you. You are the first volunteer that wants to change her family relation, and your motivation is quite strong. Can you tell me your requirements? I can’t guarantee they will be fulfilled, but we will do our best.” “I’d like to become a true toddler 2 or 3 years old and start a new life as a daughter of my Ashley,” Victoria smiled at her daughter. “Does it mean you will lose your memories?” Victoria hesitated for awhile, but the idea sounded attractive. She would forget every bad experience and start a brand-new life. “Mommy, don’t worry. I will tell you everything necessary and leave out your unpleasant memories,” Ashley encouraged her mom, “you will start a true new life.” A week later, all preparations were done. Ashley equipped a nursery for her future daughter and purchased everything necessary to take car of a toddler and a few pieces of clothing; she didn’t know exactly the required size. Victoria and Ashley arrived at the university lab in the morning. The regression machine was set up already according to Victoria’s requirements: - Age about 3 - Loss of memory - Limited motoric skills - Possible grow up Victoria undressed herself, lay down on the bed and the assistant connected the wires to her body and started the regression program. She suddenly felt dizzy and the world around her grew larger. Her mind was changing as well. All her memories disappeared, and she felt incredibly happy at that moment even if she didn’t know why. A wide smile appeared on her lips. Victoria Davis was a past now; Victoria Compton was born … or reborn? “All done,” the assistant switched off the machine and disconnected all the wires from the little body, “dress your daughter and carry her to the examination room please. We need to check her health condition.” “Victoria, sweetheart, mommy will dress you now,” Ashley smiled at her new daughter. She realized Victoria had lost her memories, and she had to teach her the name and all family members first. Victoria smiled back and listened. Her mind was clean and empty. As Ashley grabbed a diaper, she instinctively lifted her behind. Her toddler mind accepted diapers and the memories of an old woman had disappeared. Now she was a little girl that knew her mommy and her name. Ashley put the diaper beneath Victoria and realized that was the first of endless diaper changes. Nevertheless, she didn’t mind it at all. Diapers belonged to the cute toddler image she longed for. She dressed Victoria in a cute dress and pair of tights and pink shoes. “Come, sweetheart, can you walk?” she asked Victoria; the little girl sat up and crawled down from the bed. Her legs seemed to be a bit weak, but she was able to walk. The assistant led them to the exam room where the doctor did a quick check. ” Mrs. Compton, congratulations to your daughter. She is a healthy 3-year-old toddler. You can take her home. Stop at our office to obtain the birth certificate. Also, I expect you with her to have another health check in two months. If you notice any issue, contact me immediately. We need feedback of our experiments.” Ashley was amused by the word ‘birth certificate’, but there was no matching document available to make Victoria her legal child. She put the little girl into a stroller and drove her to the office. As soon as she got the birth certificate, she left the university and put Victoria into a car seat and drove off. Victoria was a bit tired. The regression had been a challenge for her and her little body was exhausted. She yawned when Ashley put her into the stroller, and her eyes closed minutes later. While Ashley was carrying her to the car, she was asleep already.
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We're very excited to open Sunshine Junction Adult Baby Daycare 1.4 so all the little ones can Learn, Explore, Imagine, and Be Themselves. MISSION Our mission at the Sunshine Junction Adult Baby Daycare is to provide a safe, nurturing, and accepting environment for individuals who enjoy and benefit from the experience of age regression. We believe everyone deserves to be cared for and accepted for who they are, regardless of age or circumstance. Our dedicated and compassionate staff is committed to creating a space where adult babies can feel comfortable and free to express themselves without fear of judgment. We strive to provide high-quality care and attention to every individual, ensuring that their physical and emotional needs are met. Through play, activities, and socialization, we aim to promote happiness, confidence, and a sense of belonging for all our clients. We believe that the experience of age regression can be a positive and therapeutic way for individuals to cope with stress, anxiety, or trauma and to explore their inner child. Our adult baby daycare is dedicated to fostering a community of inclusivity, respect, and understanding where every individual is valued and supported. SERVICES We use the innovative, free Virtual Master program created by Sven B. to immerse you in the daycare setting of your adult baby dreams. Our staff members are specially trained to give you the love and caring or strict discipline and punishment you need. We are currently accepting registration for our Infant program (6 wks - 1 year old) and our Toddler program (1 -3 years old). We offer the flexibility of our exceptional services for whatever time period is needed, from a few minutes to the entire day. Fun, creative activities vary daily to give you the best opportunity to explore and learn. You can create up to 10 custom activities to fill your time or use the 17 preset activities that we offer. We have a comprehensive list of expected behaviors and rules for both of your programs. Adhere to the rules, and you will be rewarded. Disobey, and there may be consequences. We are open for everyone to feel welcome and loved. We offer customization of the script for the following areas: -Gender identity and pronouns -Parent or caregiver involvement, if applicable -Use of Imperial (US) or Metric system -Customization of required fluid intake based on your weight and bladder capacity -Optional use of a webcam to document your day with us. -The ability to identify and celebrate birthdays or holidays -The ability to customize your care and activities based on supplies you have. -Chose between calling it a Diaper or Nappy -Distinguish if you will be wearing Cloth or Disposable diapers -You are instructed on what liquids you are to drink and how often. -You are instructed on what types of food you are to have and when. -You choose which staff member you would like to care for you. Loving Linda, or Strict Linda, is waiting to give you the attention you need. -You chose rewards that will encourage your good behavior. -Should you choose Strict Linda, you will be given the option of establishing up to 4 preset punishment types and the option to customize up to 5 to encourage your behavior. Choose to get a report card of your visit. This will allow you to keep track of your day or let your partner see what fun adventure you were a part of. Allow yourself to be cared for in the loving, caring environment we create. You will be treated just like every other little one while you're with us, with scheduled and random diaper checks, scheduled naps, and activity time to keep your little mind and body growing and exploring. Come spend your precious time in a place that loves and accepts you for who you are. Register today!! Changes for Version 1.4: -We've created 1400+ audio files and enhanced the previous files to bring Sunshine Junction the most realistic Adult Baby Daycare ever! - Errors corrected to allow for seamless performance and the best user experience to date. -New quiet time Python addition prevents users from using their computer during this period. -New narrative added -Grammer and spelling corrections *The program requires Microsoft Windows; however, instructions are available for using Linux Mint 20.1 Mate if needed. *You will receive an encrypted version of the script/program that can not be viewed or altered. The Virtual Master program and scripts are beta programs and will contain errors. Every effort to eliminate the mistakes is made. Assistance is always welcome to identify errors and inconsistencies or aid future script development. You can find all of our programs at https://mistresssebrina1.gumroad.com/l/ABDaycare14 or lilagain.etsy.com
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Hi this is a role i had in mind its almost like the movie coraline if anyone has seen it where coraline goes through this door and ends up in a world with the other mother and other father etc. Here would be my idea and bare with me as i try my best. Valeria is 16 and small for her age but that never stopped her from being a typical teenager, as she lives with her parents and even though she loves them they are just always too busy for her and often times forgets that she exists and has wondered if they ever would miss her if she were to just leave and never come back which she doubts they would as they rarely are ever home with how busy there work schedules were. One afternoon valeria was exploring the home that her parents and her have moved in to and upon exploring it she found a random key and decided to see what door it could unlock. As she gone through the home she happen to come across this door in her closet that was locked so she placed the key in and went to unlock it, and to her surprise it revealed a tunnel and so she decided to crawl through it but little did she know what would be on the other side that would change her life for good. Valeria gets to the end of the tunnel as there was a door at the end and once she passed through it and ended up in some house and when she had second thoughts about this the door she came from suddenly is gone.
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Authors note, this story is generally inspired by Altered States and You Know What They Do To Girls Like Us In Brighter Days by Chels in Ribbons, there are notable differences but I did use alot of it as inspiration and credit can never hurt . This story is also fairly political with the election so close I got kinda inspired. The prologue is by far the most political part of the story. I want to paint a picture of how the world of my story went to the place that it did, as realistically as I could . But once we get out of the prologue it will play out much more traditionally. I say all this as a warning: if you don't want politics or want to argue about them, in a non constructive way Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. you can probably skip the prologue and be fine (once I write more then the prologue). Part 1: Growing Pains Prologue: Vignettes of a Changing World Two Years Before The leader of the JNP party, Thomas Hillbrook, took the stage to a cheering crowd. “Thank you, thank you! Despite everything, despite them trying to steal this election, you fought like hell. You voted for it, and we’re here!” He let the crowd calm down. “We did the impossible; we took a third party to the White House. You took me to the White House, and I promise you there will be changes around here. Results are still coming in, but it seems we took a lot of the House too!” Cheers erupted from the crowd. “I promise you that under my administration, we will return to the natural order of things. We will purge Marxism from public universities, and we will fix this rot.” Madison shut off the TV in disgust. It was a disgustingly gorgeous day in November. For the rest of the month, and most of October it had been rainier then she had ever seen it and t However, a warm patch had come in a few days ago, bringing temperatures in the 50s with clear skies. The beautiful weather felt like a mockery to her; her country had just elected a man who didn’t believe she should be able to vote until she was 30. The sky was blue, and the birds that hadn’t flown south for the winter were out in full force. At least she was in New York, where she felt relatively safe. One and a Half Years Before “Whoa, you got a haircut?” Madison said, sitting up from the couch, genuinely surprised. In the nearly three years she’d known him, Luke had never once had his reddish auburn hair less than shoulder-length. Now, he sported a short, utilitarian cut. tall and Lean he had gotten Lasik a few mouths ago, he was slowly changing before her eyes changing from a young environmental scientist to a Yuppy, she didn't know if she liked the change. Luke frowned, looking slightly put out. “The guys and I were talking... I think it’s time to take things more seriously.” He gestured at his head. “And, well, that kind of hair doesn’t exactly say that, does it?” “The guys?” Madison raised an eyebrow. “Since when are your lab coworkers ‘the guys’? Isn’t the lab mostly women anyway?” At this, Luke looked truly uncomfortable for the first time. “Was. Mostly women, I mean. We had to move or let go of most of the women. Our lab can only operate with some federal grants, and a lot of the women were just out of grad school, so they weren’t 28 yet.” Madison stared at him. “Wait, what? You had to let them go? I thought that only applied to management positions. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” “Because... What was I supposed to say? They changed it to cover ‘advanced’ positions as well, and as fuzzy as that language is, it definitely covers researchers. Look, Madison, I don’t like it either, but my lab doesn’t exactly draw in millions from private equity or whatever. It was either move the female employees under 28 into other positions or shut down.” “Wait, you’re saying they’re doing secretarial work? Like what, getting coffee for you? Like it’s the 1950s?” She groaned, the sick feeling in her stomach deepening. “This is unreal, Luke. How can you even...” She trailed off, unable to find the right words. “Well, a lot of them are planning to move overseas. I wrote glowing letters of recommendation for all of them, even the ones who were bad at their jobs. I think a lot of foreign universities are receptive to what’s happening here and are hiring them. But the ones who stayed... yeah, they’re doing secretarial work that they’re very overqualified for.” He sighed, sitting down on the couch. Madison looked at him in disbelief, her jaw clenched. “And what, you're just okay with that? With all of this?” “No, Madison, of course not. If our research doesn’t get funded, 25 people—including those highly overqualified women doing demeaning work—will be without a job, and that doesn’t help anyone.” “This is exactly what they want, Luke. For people to just accept it, to ‘go along’ so they don’t lose funding or their jobs. And now... look at you. God, I barely recognize you. You used to have fire; you slept in trees so they wouldn’t get cut down. What changed?” She nearly begged him. He had so much conviction back when they first met, and that’s what made her fall in love with him. But now he was bowed, defeated. “I’m sorry, Madison. I can’t get rid of 25 people's jobs. I just can’t.” His arms crossed defensively. “Fuck,” she said, standing and pacing back and forth. “I know you’re right,” Madison said. One Year Before “3... 2... 1... and we’re live! Welcome to the John Flint Show! We have a very special episode for you this week. Not that all my guests aren’t wonderful, but this week we’re joined by someone very special: the President of the United States, Thomas Hillbrook. Hello, sir, it’s an honor.” “No, no, the pleasure is all mine.” John gestured around the hotel room they were in. “We’re not in the studio today because of scheduling conflicts, but I tested the audio, and it should be fine.” The two men sat in the living area of a large, spacious hotel room, both wearing tight suit jackets, button-ups, and jeans. “With your recent ban on women under the age of 28 from working full-time and holding ‘advanced’ jobs, what’s your next step?” “Well, you know, John, the next few steps are cultural. If your girlfriend or wife is out of line, it’s really simple. You wouldn’t let your teenage daughter flip you off at the dinner table, so you shouldn’t let your wife do the same. If she's going to act like a child, you’ve got to treat her like one. If you’re a bad girl, you’re getting a vigorous spanking right now. And no, it’s not going to hurt me more than it hurts you.” “Ah… well, uh,” John said, clearly taken aback by the monologue. “What about on the policy side of things?” It was hard to make John blush; he had done NASCAR commentary for years before starting his podcast, and people saying off-color things was basically part of the job. Yet even John was taken aback by the man's remarks. “I’ve been talking about raising the age of majority to 28 as well with my advisors. Marriage used to be about handing off the wife from the father to the husband. I think having more years where they can just focus on being girls or trying to get married would only be beneficial.” The podcast meandered on that course until wrapping up. In the following days, John released a statement on his Instagram, stating that the views expressed were not reflective of the show. But on the very next episode, he claimed that Hillbrook was simply using “poetic language.” six Months Before “God damn it! Fuck, I can’t even apply until I’m 28. They want my real ID for the application.” In less than a year, she had lost everything. Her bank account was in her parents' name, and if she ever actually got married to Lucas, it’d be in his. She wanted to scream. Hell, if the government found out she was living with Lucas, he’d be forced to marry her or get charged with child kidnapping—she was 26.- All legal barriers were gone by then; the measure raising the age of majority to 28 had passed within less than a week. Within days, job application sites took you to a verification site where you had to post ID. Her logins for her doctor and banks had changed; she was basically property for the next two years. “Fuck,” she said again. Lucas was sitting on the couch. “Don’t swear,” he said, with the resolute look of someone who knew there was going to be a fight. “Maddy, you need to break that habit so you don’t do it out in public.” Madison whirled around. “Fuck them! I don’t care.” “Maddy, you know if someone reports you, you could get sent to one of those Etiquette schools, and no one wants that. You always make me the bad guy. I’m trying to keep us safe. As soon as you turn 28, you can leave the country again, and we’re out of here, but until then…” He shifted back and looked uncomfortable. “When in Rome.” She stared at him. “When in Rome? What, you want me to be a submissive little girl you can take care of? Is that what you want? Turn on the TV. Look at the commercials. They’re making all the little stuff bigger. Why do you think that is? Do you think that’s a natural rise in popularity? The skirts, the pajamas—the socks, the panties—they’re infantilizing us. I heard in Alabama you have to have an ID to buy a goddamn pantsuit. First the spankings, now the clothes—who knows what’s next? You want to ‘when in Rome’ that?” she said forcefully. hours later, Madison was curled up in a chair, making her way through A Crown of Swords. At any other point in her life, she would have skipped that particular book, but not having a job left her with time to kill, she guessed. Her, she genuinely hoped well meaning boyfriend approached her. “Look, I’m sorry. I want to drop it, but this is a legitimate concern. I’ve heard horror stories about etiquette schools. Those people come back... changed. I don’t want to lose you, Maddy. Let’s just do this: a swear jar. If in the next six months you don’t fill it up, I’ll pay you what it would have taken to fill it up, plus a punishment. And if you fill it up, I get the money and get to punish you. It’s almost like fantasy football.” she sighed " fine deal"
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Hiii! Looking to do some detailed roleplay with age regression! Up for any kind of plot really though tech and fantasy are favorites of mine. I have some basic ideas for some plots but I'll save those for dms! I'm not too active on forums but I do have a discord! Dm me and I'll give you my discord so we can chat away!
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Hello again, and welcome to the final episode in Mike’s inevitable slide into babyhood. This one follows on from the events outlined in At Miss Katie’s House and Later at Miss Katie’s House. I did go back and make some edits to both of those stories so that they fit with what transpired as I wrote this one. I think this story is my longest yet, which seems like a fitting tribute to Mike and everything he’s been through with the women in his life. I originally wrote this one in past tense, but then decided present fit better with the ending. Fair warning - you might still find a few discrepancies which I’ll get around to fixing later. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! As always, all characters are 18+. Mike and Katie Together I haven’t been back on the couch long, when Katie returns to the living room, looking clean and fresh-faced, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looks magnificent actually. Motherhood suits her in all the best ways. She leans over me with a soft smile. “You did so good waiting quietly for me, sweetie! What a good boy! Shall we check your diaper and then have a snack?” I’m immediately reminded of how good Katie always smells. Sort of like a warm kitchen on a sunny Saturday morning. That’s not quite right (I’m having trouble finding the correct word or phrase for some reason), but it’s a pretty close approximation of the sense of familiar comfort it brings whenever I’m close to her. She’s always so gentle and soft too… I shake my head a little. There’s no time for these little trips down memory lane. Most of them lead straight to babyland anyway. Right now, I’ve got to focus on staying with it, here, in the present, in my adult mind. And I can’t do that without Katie‘s help: “Katie wait! Hold up a second…I’m Mike…It’s me! I’m back. I mean - the real me - this Mike - the Mike from before! I’m back.” I’m not sure that makes any sense, but it’s obvious at least that my diction and tone has gotten through to her. She freezes for a moment in shock, and then pulls me into a giant hug, peppering my head with kisses, smothering me in her warmth. A torrent of questions follows: When did I awaken? How long has it been? Am I feeling OK? What else can I remember?… I do my best to answer her questions with the limited information I have on hand. Unfortunately, I learned a long time ago that toddler Mike doesn’t take great notes, which is also why I have important questions of my own. Chief among them: WHEN is now? And for how long have I been a functional toddler? It doesn’t take long before the most pressing questions are asked and answered, and we find ourselves in a pause, both appraising the other. Her eyes flit to the bulge in my crotch, and I’m suddenly reminded of the soggy diaper around my waist. “I guess I should probably get out of this gross thing before too much longer” I say, while starting for the bathroom I passed earlier. Katie’s hand shoots out and stops me: “Mike, hold on a second. Um…I know this sounds crazy, but I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. You’ve been in diapers 24/7 for almost 6 months now. You’ve almost certainly lost some control. How about we leave it on for a little while - just until we have a better sense of where you’re at in terms of toileting? Could you do that for me?” I notice she’s slipped briefly back into her ‘preschool teacher’ tone, but I choose to ignore it. Old habits die hard, after all. But I can’t just go along with this either. My mental state is fragile right now. What if staying in a diaper pushes me back over the edge? “Katie I’m fine. I’m back. I’m not gonna piss myself. I promise! Please don’t make me wear it!” I’m doing my best to sound confident, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind that says I shouldn’t be so sure. My bladder feels oddly disconnected from my body. Like I’m not quite sure what’s going on with it. I guess I’m just not used to checking in with those nerves and muscles anymore. Of course I also should’ve known that Katie had heard those lines probably 1000 times before, and she was ready for them. “Well, then maybe you can show me. Do you need to go potty right now? Sorry - I mean - do you need the toilet, Mike?” “No….I don’t think so,” I reply. I’m immediately aware of my mistake. A smile tugs at Katie’s lips as she once again deploys her ‘I’m in charge’ voice: “Well if you’re not sure, then let’s wait to take it off until you are. I promise I won’t think any less of you until then. In the meantime, why don’t you sit back down and we can figure out what to do next?” She pats the couch cushion beside her invitingly, and for some reason, I comply. I guess I could’ve asked to at least change into a dry diaper, but I don’t really have a playbook for this situation (and in truth - it just didn’t occur to me). We sit sideways facing one another - her on the end, me on the middle cushion, our knees touching. I’m not quite sure where to go from here, and so I’m very happy when she takes the lead in the conversation. It’s just so nice being this close to her again. Katie starts with more questions about what I remember from the last six months. I answer as best I can. Her expression is sympathetic and caring, and I find myself going into detail about feelings and emotions that I would normally keep to myself. I guess it’s not surprising that I feel comfortable sharing intimate details with a woman who has both ridden me bareback and wiped my bottom. She deftly steers the conversation away from our brief affair (wait - when did we get on that topic?) and towards this weekend and what might have triggered this latest awakening: “I have to tell you I was pretty surprised at how much you seemed to have regressed since I last saw you. I mean, I knew things had progressed based on what I heard from Miss Rachel (she says you are adorable by the way), but when Sandra dropped you off, I almost didn’t recognize you! If I had to guess, based on your speech and behavior, I’d say you had regressed to no more than two years old. You were a toddler in every way - except size of course!” I blush at this statement - thinking of how I must’ve appeared to her in that vulnerable state. How had I let myself go that far? Her expression softens as she senses my discomfort. She reaches forward and puts her hand reassuringly on my thigh. ”Oh Mike you don’t need to feel embarrassed about that! You couldn’t help it, could you?” She looks at me expectantly, until I shake my head ‘No’. “No - you couldn’t - any more than Cassie can. Do you remember meeting her last night? Helping me get her ready for bed? Well she’s asleep now, but you can meet her properly later. She’s much younger than you, just a tiny baby but…” I cut her off. I don’t want to be rude, but I also don’t know how much time I might have left. I’ve already been lost in conversation with her for what…an hour? If I don’t speak my piece now, I might never get another chance. “Katie, hold up a second please. I need you to know some things. And I don’t know how much longer I have, so please just listen: I don’t like this. I never wanted this. At least not like this. I mean, I know I signed on the shorter line for the regression therapy voluntarily, but Sandra never told me she was going to take it this far. And I didn’t think it could go this far. I thought I’d just feel like a teenager again or something, and that maybe it would help my depression. Plus, it was a great reason to quit my horrible job. “If I’d have known I’d be drooling down my shirt and pissing and shitting myself in front of people like you, I’d have never signed on to it. I want it to stop. I need to be ME again! “And that’s why I need you to know how I really feel. Because you can help me even when i’m no longer able to. Talk to Sandra! Go to the center and tell them I want to stop if she won’t listen. There’s got to be some kind of clause for if I change my mind, right? They can’t just take me against my will can they? “Please, Katie - I don’t have anyone else I can trust. The truth is, I’m scared. It’s so hard feeling like I’m losing control of who I am, or of what I am, and I just want someone to help me and there’s no one except you, and I’m so confused and alone and it’s all become such a big mess that sometimes I just feel like…” It was Katie’s turn to cut me off now. She pulled me into her for a hug, holding my head to her chest and shushing me gently: “Oh Mike, sweetheart, don’t get so upset. Everything‘s gonna be OK I promise. No matter what happens, I’ll always care about you and I’ll always be here for you. You don’t need to worry about that. We can get through this together!” This wasn’t the response I was expecting or looking for. Had she listened to anything I just said? “Katie I’m not worried about not getting to SEE you! I’m telling you I’m worried that I’ll never come back to my adult self! And I’m asking you to step in if that happens. Geez! This is like life or death in that way! Can’t you see that?! Are you actually listening to anything I’m saying? “Everyone’s acting like it’s no big deal that grown-ass adults like me are turning into drooling imbeciles - and I know I effectively signed my life away voluntarily - but the fine print turns out to be a real bitch! I’m telling you I want to get OFF this crazy train, and I’m begging you to help me do it!” Katie recoils a little bit at my tone. She stares at me for a moment with an expression I don’t quite like, before composing herself for a reply. The preschool teacher tone is back now in a major way: “Mike, please use your quiet time voice. Cassie is still sleeping. I know that you are upset and scared, but it’s not appropriate for you to take your frustrations out on me. In fact, you’re behaving rather childishly about this situation, which probably isn’t a great idea in your condition, is it?” Again, she waits for me to shake my head ‘no’ before continuing. “I’ll give you a pass this time because you’re not used to processing adult emotions. And I do understand that this is scary for you, sweetheart. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your position…except, well, actually I can, because I care for children your “age” all day long. In fact, when I think about it, my experience caring for you and watching your transition makes me more sympathetic in some ways than others might be. We’ve been through a lot together. You’re not alone in this. And I’m still gonna be here for you no matter what. That’s what I meant, and I’m sorry if it didn’t come across that way. “I’d love to be able to tell you that this time might be different. Or that I can fix it. But I’m not an expert in this, and I don’t really know if that’s how it works. I’m pretty sure that Sandra has full custody of you now. I don’t think there’s much I can do in terms of making decisions for you or communicating your wishes to the Regression Center, except if I go through her. “Anyway, from what I understand, the best thing you can do is to learn to recognize triggers and to develop strategies to overcome them so that you don’t zone out whenever you encounter them. It does seem like you are clearer headed now compared to other times you’ve been back, so maybe we could work on that trigger resistance together - if you think you’re up to it? When I don’t answer right away, she starts up again, this time using the soft and gentle tone from before. “Mike, I need to ask you something. You don’t have to give me an answer, but I think it’s important to ask, so here goes: I’m not sure what you just said to me is entirely true. Specifically, I’m wondering if maybe there’s a part of you that likes to be treated like a baby? Again, it’s OK if you don’t want to answer. I’m just trying to figure out how to help you here. “It’s just that, I’ve noticed some things over the time I’ve known you. For instance ,how you act around women you are attracted to. You seem to crave the motherly or nurturing side of their attention. And that has only become more apparent to me as you have regressed. Or like just a little while ago, the way you were looking at me when I was feeding Cassie. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous. Am I getting close to the actual truth here?” I was aware I was blushing bright red again. I hadn’t expected this line of questioning. The truth was, the subby side of me did crave the sorts of gentle nurturing praise or even scolding that came with babyish behavior. and I was definitely attracted to women with strong nurturing instincts. But I had never admitted that to anyone - until now. I found myself nodding ever so slightly. “Mmhmmm. I thought so. Can you tell me more about what that means? Do you maybe like wearing diapers?” I squirmed involuntarily at this question, even as it sent a delicious electric shiver up my spine and seemingly straight into my brain. “I think I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she said good-naturedly. I felt the need to speak up here - I didn’t want her to think I was some kind of diaper freak: “I don’t like them all the time - that’s part of what I meant by “not like this” in reference to my situation. But I do like the thought of you putting me in them. And changing me. I know that sounds super weird, but there’s just something so comforting about being taken care of in that way. I don’t know why I like it…I just…it’s just…” “OK.” She says, saving me from my awkward stammer. “I think I actually do know why. But I have another question for you first: do you like diapers more for how they feel, or for what they represent?” I’m contemplating the answer to this, (or rather contemplating how to bring myself to give the correct answer) when she offers to answer for me: “Do you know what I think? I think you like wearing diapers because of what they represent. They really are the ultimate symbol of babyhood aren’t they? Of freedom from even the most basic responsibility. After all, big boys don’t wear diapers do they? No. Because big boys don’t go pee pee or poo poo in their pants do they? Only babies do that - and thats why their mommies and babysitters put them in soft, fluffy diapers, isn’t it?” I nod my head in response to this last statement (maybe a little too enthusiastically), but Katie doesn’t mind. In fact, she chuckles good naturedly and brushes my cheek with her hand. “I thought so. I think you like that feeling of being cared for and loved in that way. With no judgement. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing. “And I think maybe there’s also something there about other mommies or caregivers knowing you’re in diapers and treating you accordingly. Is that right, Mike? Like maybe it’s a little bit embarrassing, but kind of in a good way? Hmmm? To be treated the same as all the other kiddos in diapers? To have decisions made for you about your needs and level of competence based purely on the site of a pastel liner peeking out from the back of your pants, or the telltale square-ish bum shape of a freshly changed diaper? It’s always been a great look on you, sweetheart! Katie accentuates this last point with a gentle laugh, which seems to echo in my head, but not in an unpleasant way. I’m blushing intensely now, even though I’m managing to maintain eye contact. I feel myself twitch a little bit inside my diaper. Katie has managed to hit the nail on the head in terms of my most secret and deeply hidden reasons for signing on to the regression program. “Mike there’s nothing wrong with feeling thiat way. I could tell when I first met you that you just wanted to be mothered. I found it kind of attractive actually. And I know the other workers at Sunny Hills feel the same way. Early education tends to attract that soft nurturing type. I guess thats’s your type huh?” “I gotta say though, I never understood why you were with Sandra in that respect. She just doesn’t seem the type. I mean, you guys haven’t had kids yet and you’ve been together what…10 years? She doesn’t seem like she’d be very nice about your potty accidents either. Like does she spank you when you wet your pants? Did she make you stand in the corner in your dirty undies?” Her hand absentmindedly brushes her breast as she says this, which sends another electric shiver up my spine. It leaves a faint ringing in my ears. Katie doesn’t wait for an answer to these last questions. Instead, she turns now to the beginning of our relationship and what attracted me to her in the first place, connecting the dots to my recently confessed desires and what transpired between us: “I dont think Sandra was ever capable of giving you what you really needed in terms of your desires to be dominated and cared for in such gentle and fundamentally intimate ways. But I picked up on it almost immediately - even if I didn’t quite know all of the gory details.” She leans forward and softly pets the front of my diaper to emphasize this point. The ringing in my ears grows louder. “I used to love sending you subtle cues, like teasing you about spilling your drink, or calling you a good boy, or even little mothering gestures like fixing your collar without asking for permission. I knew you loved it too. It was so exhilarating having that much control over an older guy! You were always so shy and flustered around me. Like a little boy caught peaking at something he shouldn’t be. “In fact, nothing really changed once you started the regression program did it? Except you were less able to hide your feelings and needs. You would always get so squirmy whenever I checked your pants! I think you liked it. And that’s OK, because we just talked about what those things represent didn’t we? “Of course, I’m also aware that eventually you didn’t really have a choice in the matter. But at first, I think you sort of helped propel yourself along through this process - creating your own triggers as it were. Deliberately engaging in babyish behaviors so that I would take notice and treat you accordingly. It was like you were still flirting with me - just in your own unique and special ways. Does that make sense?” I nod my head again. This does make so much sense! It’s like I’m having a private conversation with my ego. Katie seems to be one step ahead of my deepest desires and secrets. Things I’m not even ready to admit to myself. “Well now I have something to confess to you. My desire to nurture you, and even to gently humiliate you, didn’t go away when you started the regression treatment - even if the motives and feelings behind them changed. “In fact, I have to admit that sometimes I’d find ways to put you in situations where I could treat you like a baby, or push you into positions of greater dependency on me. There were more than a few times - in the early days especially - when you were showing very obvious signs of needing the toilet, and I just didn’t remind you or take you, because I wanted an opportunity to get to lay you down and tug your pants off again. “Sorry, I guess it’s my turn to sound weird! I know it’s very different circumstances, but something about changing you just lily me up me on an emotional level. I think it was the way your eyes would go all soft and gooey as you looked up at me from that position of complete trust and vulnerability - it melted my heart. Every woman wants to be looked at that way. That feeling is way better than anything we could ever do in the bedroom. In fact, it’s what I’ve always craved from you. I never quite got there with adult Mike.” Now it was her turn to have flushed cheeks. She brushed the side of her breast again absentmindedly. “Anyway, I don’t think we should talk anything more about that. Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly surprised when I saw you silhouetted in the doorway, looking longingly at me as I nursed Cassie. “Were you maybe imagining that I was doing that for you? Hmmm? it’s OK. You can tell me.” I nod again. The ringing in my ears growing even louder. My diaper feels tighter. I’m suddenly aware that she’s been lightly caressing my upper thigh with her right hand. “That’s kind of taboo for a big boy, you know,” she says with another little laugh. But then again, you never could keep your eyes off my tits could you?” I can’t help shaking my head “no” in reply, which prompts yet another soft laugh from Katie. “It’s OK, baby, you can look. Do you like how much bigger they’ve gotten? I know I do!” She strokes her left breast more deliberately now with her free hand. Meanwhile, her right hand has found its way to the front of my diaper. I’m finding it very difficult to concentrate on anything other than the site of her nipples poking through her thin tee shirt. It feels like there are fireworks going off in my head now. “I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but my milk is off-limits for you. It’s only for little babies. And you’re definitely a big boy, right?” She gently cups my chin as she asks this, raising my head and forcing me to look away from her breasts. Her gaze feels more serious than playful now. It’s almost like she’s assessing me. And as weird and contradictory as it sounds, in that moment, I was strongly tempted to tell her that she was mistaken. That I actually was a baby. That I was qualified to take her breast. To nurse from her. To risk everything for a chance to give myself over to her in that way. Katie wasn’t letting up either. “Are you curious about what my milk tastes like sweetie? Do you wonder what it would feel like to climb into my arms in your jammies and soggy bedtime diaper and wrap your lips around my nipple?” I don’t reply, but there’s another involuntary twitch in my diaper that I’m sure she can feel, even through the soggy padding. “Mmmmhmmm. I thought so. But those don’t sound like things a big boy would wonder about, do they? “No they don’t. A big boy would be wondering whether I’m about to take his diaper off and straddle him right here on the couch. In fact, most big boys would have jumped on top of me already, given the obvious cues I’m sending. I’m literally jacking you off right now, darling, and you’re just sitting there with a dopey look on your face. If you were a big boy, you’d be about to have another big, sticky accident in your soggy pants. “But you don’t work that way, do you? You don’t want those things. Or at least not as much as you want other things. Things that I’m still willing to give you…as long as you ask in the right ways..” In all honesty I wasn’t sure what I wanted at that point, or what I was even into. It felt like forever since I’d done anything sexual with a woman. But it also felt impossible to find the line between my babyish needs and my adult desires. Katie stepped on the gas now: “I have an idea. Maybe if I show them to you, it will help you decide. “Or…we could think of this like a trigger test: If you can resist my boobies without your brain turning back into baby mush, then maybe you’ll be able to resist other triggers? What do you think, sweetie? Should I pull up my top and show you my boobies? Is it worth the risk?” I was wild with lust and desire at this notion. I nodded an enthusiastic “yes” with almost no hesitation, licking my lips in anticipation. Katie smiles at me seductively, and then slowly raises her T-shirt until both of her breasts drop out below. They are absolutely magnificent. She is a mother goddess. She reaches up and gives the left one a gentle squeeze, and a single drop of milk appears, glistening and rolling down the end of the nipple. I sit there gaping - absolutely mesmerized - for I don’t know how long. I feel paralyzed with awe and reverence. But also still very much in my adult mind. I have passed the test! I smile up at her and say, (perhaps a little too loudly), “I’m still a big boy Katie!” “I can see that” she says in a syrupy tone, while beginning to caress her breasts more deliberately. “Such a clever boy! You passed that one with flying colors didn’t you? “I think you might be ready for another, harder test! What do you think? Would you like to try, baby?” Again, I nod my head “yes” enthusiastically. OK - such a brave boy! Get ready! Here we go: Do you need to go potty yet?” Such an easy question, at least under normal circumstances, but right now I’m still unsure. There is a vague sense of discomfort from somewhere below my belly button, but I couldn’t tell you if it was just my dick still trying to make room in the confines of the diaper, or the actual need to go. I tell her a bit sheepishly that I still don’t know, which prompts another gentle laugh. “Awwww sweetie, that’s OK. That doesn’t mean you failed the test. After all, you’ve been spending a lot of time lately not worrying about the answer to that question. And now that you’re in Miss Rachel‘s classroom, it’s probably even more difficult. None of your peers are setting a good example for you to follow in the potty department anymore are they, baby? “Anyways - the good news for you (my good little boy), is that I know a way you can find out and still pass! Do you want to try it with me? “Good! It’s sooo simple even a baby can do it! All you have to do is give a little push! Can you do that for me? Do you remember what that feels like?” I realize that l’ve already begun pushing before she’s finished her last question. My face is now red for different reasons, but still, nothing happens. Not even a trickle. An overwhelming sense of disappointment washes over me. Have I failed? “Silly goose’” exclaims Katie, “you’ve got to get in the right position first before you start pushing, otherwise it’s not gonna work! Go ahead and stand up for me, sweetie. There’s a good boy. Now, I’ll hold onto your hands and you can try again. Go on! Push for me, baby!” Without thinking more about it, I let her take my hands. Katie smiles at me encouragingly as I push harder and deeper than before, bending my legs just a little bit this time. She’s right - this is a much better position for this kind of activity! I feel a rippling sensation from my abdomen, followed by a pleasant shiver up my spine, and then I’m full on pooping in my pants. There’s no trying to hold it back. This isn’t an ‘accident.’ I’m just having my usual morning bowel movement while standing next to the couch in Katie’s living room. I push again, this time for longer, and I’m rewarded with a delightful warm fullness around my bottom. Another pleasant shiver snakes up my spine, prompting a little wiggle from my behind and a generous gush of urine from my front. And then, just like that, the deed is done. The whole episode lasted maybe 10 seconds, although it seemed much longer. I’m left feeling dazed and more than a little unsure about the outcome or its meaning. Is this a pass or a fail? I take a moment to check in with myself. Yes - I’m still here. Still me. But is pooping my pants really proof of anything positive in that respect? The idea seemed to make perfect sense just a minute ago - but now I’m not so sure. I realize that Katie has kept hold of my hands this whole time. Her breasts are also still hanging free under her bunched up shirt, which threatens to distract me from my self-assessment. Without asking permission, she spins me around and pulls back the waistband of my diaper to peek inside: “Oh, sweetie,” she whispers in my ear, “You made a big poopy in your diaper! I think we found the answer to the question about whether or not you had to go potty, didn’t we?” She reaches down and gives my bottom a firm squish for emphasis, her bare breasts pressing into my back. “How do you feel sweetheart? Can you still recite your ABCs?” she asks playfully. “I guess it’s a good thing I made you keep that diaper on, huh? Miss Katie is so clever sometimes!” This last question wasn’t quite fair, but I chose to let it go. Her nonchalant attitude is putting me more at ease about the whole situation. And on balance, it does seem like a good thing that messing my pants hasn’t triggered the expected zone out to babyland. I turn back around to face her, acutely aware of the mess shifting with my movements. “Well…I guess this means…I…passed? Maybe this means I’m trigger proof?” I’m doing my best to mirror her ‘pooping in your pants in front of me is no big deal’ vibe. Katie studies me briefly before replying. At first her expression is a confusing mixture of amusement and appraisal - it’s a little bit disconcerting given the delicate position she’s just helped put me in. Aren’t we on the same team here? We’re still working together, right? I’m relieved to see her face soften a little as she begins to lay out our next move. “Not quite, sweetie, I think we should do one more test just to be sure. Why don’t you sit back down and we can talk about what it might be?” I lower myself gingerly onto the seat next to her, which prompts another good-natured chuckle from Katie. The syrupy tone is back. “Come closer, sweetheart. You’re doing so good! Let me cuddle you for a second. Your poopy bottom doesn’t bother me, I promise! “Now, where were we? Oh that’s right! A final trigger test. Do you know what it is? I think you might. We were just talking about about it a few minutes ago…” Her arm is around my shoulder, and there’s a gentle but insistent pressure pulling me towards her chest. I can see that both nipples are dripping now. What’s the term for that again? ‘Let down?’ “That’s right. I think you already know the answer, my sweet little boy. I want you to try nursing from my boobies. If you can resist going back to baby land while doing that, then you’re almost definitely trigger proof!” She reaches up and slowly pulls her top completely off, now offering me a completely unobstructed view of her breasts. Her bare shoulders accentuate the soft curves of her womanhood. Another electric shock courses from my perineum to the top of my scalp. The ringing in my ears has grown deafening. Given what I’ve just been though, this seems like both a wonderful and a terrible idea. Hadn’t she just told me that only a baby was allowed to do this? That only a baby would want this? And yet the urge to comply was so irresistible. I was literally drooling down my top looking at her breasts. “Come on, pumpkin,” she coos in her most syrupy and seductive voice. “Come have some lovely warm booby milk, and then I’ll change your stinky pants. And it can be an extra special diaper change if you’re still a big boy when we finish. Won’t that be nice?” I am powerless to resist. Without further hesitation, I turn and lay myself across her lap, my head facing her chest, my mouth already straining greedily upwards. She gently guides her nipple into my mouth with one hand and then cradles the back of my head, holding me to her, pressing me into her, suffocating me in her warmth and femininity. She moans as I performed a tentative first suck. Encouraged by her response, I give a longer, deeper suck, and this time hot milk shoots all over my tongue. It’s heaven. My eyes roll back. Fireworks go off in my head. I’m barely able to follow along as Katie whispers softly to me: “Such a good baby. Hims doesn’t want to be a big boy, does he? No. Hims wants to be a little baby drinking from my boobies in a dirty diaper. I’ve known that all along, darling. This is what’s best for you. This is what everyone wants for you now. She smiles down at me. I smile dopily back around the nipple, milk spilling from the corner of my mouth. I feel my bladder letting go, my diaper warming against her hip as I continue to suck. I giggle and close my eyes, watching the fireworks behind them. There was something I needed to do - something I needed to try to maintain, but it doesn’t seem important right now. I’m feeling so comfy and safe and warm. Completely blissed out. Katie has started humming the same, simple melody I heard her performing earlier. The song has no words, but it’s still so profoundly meaningful in terms of what it tells me about warmth, and care, and safety, and love. I sigh deeply around her nipple. “Pancakes!,” I think. “She smells like pancakes!” And then I am gone.
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Emily takes everything for granted, not least her wife. But how bad can a wife possibly act? Well, it turns out, pretty bad. --- Every update I post is available on my Ream and SubscribeStar pages one week before it is posted everywhere else. For $5 you can see everything I post before the rest of the diapered world. For $10 you can see every update early plus EVERY exclusive story I have written. That's 35 stories available ONLY on my subscription pages and nowhere else! I rely on my wonderful subscriber's support to be able to write like I do. Writing is my only income and the money I earn goes to help paying the bills, food and everything else my wife and I need. Everyone's support is HUGELY appreciated, without it I would have to find other work and I wouldn't be able to write nearly as much as I do, maybe at all. So thank you to everyone who checks out my subscriber pages and considers supporting me ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- Regression Therapy By Elfy Emily stretched out horizontally on the couch. The television across the room was on and playing some trashy day time talk show at a loud volume. On the table between Emily and the television were several empty soda cans, chocolate wrappers and empty chip packets. She belched as she picked up her handheld games console and resumed the game. “Emily, could you clean up the table, please.” Amelia asked as she hurried past the doorway. “Meh.” Emily grunted with indifference. Emily didn’t move from the couch. She didn’t look away from the screen she was holding above her and she didn’t really intend on going anywhere unless she absolutely had to. It was a typical day for the twenty-seven-year-old woman, one in which she was so motionless she might as well have been part of the couch. “Did you hear me?” Amelia asked as she walked into the room. “Yeah… I’ll do it later.” Emily lied. Emily heard Amelia sigh with frustration. After a couple of seconds Amelia walked over, bent down and started to pick up the detritus of Emily’s all-day snacking. She made a lot of noise as she did so, making sure that her displeasure was well known. “It would be nice to have some help round here.” Amelia complained as she stood up. “I said I was going to do it later!” Emily rolled her eyes. “Right…” Amelia replied sarcastically, “Just like you were going to take the trash out later.” “I did it, didn’t I?” Emily lowered her game with a frown. “Yeah.” Amelia shook her head, “Two days later, AFTER the trash had been picked up.” Emily grunted and lifted her game again. Amelia walked out of the room muttering darkly. People might’ve been forgiven for assuming that this exchange was between a mother and their difficult teenage daughter, but that wasn’t the case. In truth Emily and Amelia were married, in Emily’s opinion the marriage was a happy one despite some difficulties. Having first met shortly after college Emily had been a very different person at the start of their relationship. She had been born assigned male at birth and was still presenting that way when she met Amelia. It was only a few years into the relationship that she had realised who she really was. It had been a shock for Amelia but she had been great in helping Emily through the changes which followed and their relationship only strengthened helped by the fact they were both bisexual. Emily had now been on hormones for a few years and, by the time they got married, presented female all the time. She hadn’t had “the surgery” and wasn’t sure if she ever would, she felt like she had a lot of time to decide. She was still young; she didn’t see any need to rush anything. Emily had never had a proper full-time job. Amelia had managed to get reasonably highly paid employment in business right out of college whereas Emily had spent more time looking for work and doing the chores at home. It soon became apparent that Amelia’s job could financially support them both so Emily’s job searching became less vigorous. It was eventually decided that she could stay at home as a housewife and do all the chores and cooking, something Emily was more than happy with. For the first couple of years of marriage Emily had held up her end of the bargain. She did a decent job making sure things stayed clean and whilst she wasn’t the best cook in the world she could make some passable meals. That changed when the pandemic hit. Amelia started working from home more often and slowly, over time, she started doing some of the chores. By the time the pandemic was dying down Emily had managed to hand off basically all of her chores on her wife. A situation she was happy to keep up. Emily didn’t see any problem with how everything had developed. Amelia seemed fine working and doing the chores meanwhile she was delighted to be semi-permanently attached to the couch. Even if her wife wasn’t overly happy as long as she didn’t complain Emily wasn’t going to do anything to upset the status quo, as far as she was concerned this lifestyle could go on forever. It was several hours later before Emily was disturbed again. She was still on the couch when Amelia came in to tell her that dinner was ready. Emily could see that she was looking a little flustered but that was nothing unusual these days, she was always rushing around doing one thing or another after all. She always told Amelia she should slow down and relax but for some reason that just seemed to annoy her wife even more. Emily stood up with a groan and after stretching her back started walking through to the dining room. Amelia was already sitting down. Emily sat down and picked up her knife and fork. Without a word to her wife, she started eating but quickly stopped. The meat was slightly overcooked. Emily sighed in disappointment and used her thumb and forefinger to pull the bit of meet out of her mouth and drop it back on to the plate. Amelia hadn’t started eating but she looked up as Emily licked her lips to try and get rid of the taste. “It’s burnt.” Emily said simply. Emily saw her wife’s hands curl around the cutlery until her knuckles were white. She didn’t pay it too much mind though, Amelia often reacted like that when she was criticised. Emily thought it was always good to let her wife know when things weren’t up to standard though, it helped to make sure she didn’t make the same mistakes again. She brought some of the vegetables up to her mouth. “Ugh, you know I don’t like broccoli.” Emily said as she put the fork back down. The table shook slightly and Emily wondered if it wasn’t a small earthquake. When she looked across to her wife, she saw that she seemed to be shaking slightly. Her eyes seemed to pierce through Emily who had no idea what the problem was. Surely it wasn’t an issue to remind Amelia what she didn’t like, it was just helping her in future. Emily carried on with her dinner. She picked up the drink Amelia had made her but absent-mindedly let it slip through her fingers. The glass hit the edge of the table and the liquid inside poured all over the food. Emily let out a groan as she picked up the glass, it was already far too late to save anything. “Ugh, now it’s all ruined.” Emily said before continuing with a mumble, “Not that it was that good to begin with…” There was a sudden clattering of cutlery hitting the table. Emily looked up to see Amelia pushing her chair back, the legs scraping loudly on the linoleum floor. She stood up and stared down at Emily for a second, it looked like she was contemplating saying something as her lips twitched. Finally, she wordlessly turned away and stomped upstairs. “Why is she being so moody?” Emily muttered to herself as she stood up. Pouring the uneaten food into the trash Emily got a frozen pizza out and cooked that instead. Emily didn’t see her wife for the rest of the day, she didn’t go upstairs since she didn’t want Amelia nagging her about stuff but, as evening turned to night, she remained alone on the couch watching television. She ended up falling asleep there and without having her wife waking her up to go to bed she remained on the couch all night. --- “You need to get a job.” Amelia said. Emily was still waking up. Sprawled out across the couch her eyes half-opened as she looked up at Amelia who was already dressed in her business suit. Her make-up was done perfectly and with her hair tied back she looked very austere. “Huh?” Emily grunted sleepily without moving. She could feel a small puddle of drool underneath her cheek. “You need to get a job.” Amelia repeated, “I’m serious.” “But we’re doing fine, aren’t we?” Emily said tiredly. “No. We’re not.” Amelia replied, “You are not the person I married. We agreed that you would do the housework but you do nothing but lay on the couch all day.” “It gets done, doesn’t it?” Emily said as she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. “By me!” Amelia exclaimed, “Look, I love you but you’re not pulling your weight. I want you looking for jobs whilst I’m at work, OK?” Emily mumbled something and shrugged her shoulders. She hated the idea of working and making a commitment to find a job was the last thing she wanted to do. “OK?” Amelia repeated. “Fine.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Good.” Amelia smiled. It was the first time Emily had seen her smile in some time, “Don’t forget you’ve got therapy this afternoon. I’ll pick you up afterwards, alright?” Emily again remained noncommittal. Amelia leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead before picking up her bag and leaving. Emily remained slumped on the couch with a sizable pout. She didn’t want to look for a job, she didn’t want anything to change. Why did Amelia have to mess everything up by telling her to work? Emily opened up the laptop on the table and placed her fingers on the keyboard. She didn’t really know what to do or where to go so she just typed “job search” in a search engine and clicked the first link. She soon became dizzy as she looked through thousands of vacancies from every profession under the sun. It was all so… daunting. After a few minutes Emily gave up. She shut down the browser window feeling stressed out from the small amount of scrolling she had done. Sure, she hadn’t fired off any applications, really searched for relevant careers or even registered with the website but she had scrolled through a couple of pages. That was good enough for a job search in her opinion. With her promise to Amelia fulfilled Emily instead opened up a video game and started playing. The hours flew by as she ignored all her real-world responsibilities in favour of playing games. It was only when her phone vibrated and an alarm went off that she finally looked away from the screen much later in the day. She groaned as she looked at the screen which was lit up with the word “THERAPY” on it. She quickly swiped at the phone to shut it up and let out a sigh. Emily had been going to therapy for some time. It was the first place she had felt comfortable discussing her feelings about being a woman and was also a useful outlet for her other emotions. She wasn’t really sure if she still needed to go but Amelia insisted. The therapist was actually one of Amelia’s old friends from college. There had been some concerns about a conflict of interests but Catherine, the therapist, had always remained totally professional no matter what Emily had told her. With a groan Emily stood up and put her phone in her pocket. She considered skipping the session but she knew Amelia would only moan at her if she did, the same way she did after Emily didn’t go to the last two. Dragging her feet as much as possible Emily got dressed and headed out. It was only a short bus ride to the therapist’s office but it still felt like too far. “Emily, good to see you.” Catherine said as Emily walked through the door of the office. “Hey.” Emily replied as she walked over to the couch. “How have you been?” Catharine asked with a friendly smile. Catherine was a good therapist and despite Emily’s reluctance to make the effort to see her it wasn’t long before she was opening up. For the next fifty minutes Emily talked about her life, most notably how she was frustrated that her wife had demanded she get a job. “You don’t want to work?” Catharine asked. --- Amelia stepped out of her car and walked into the therapist’s building. She smiled and gave a little wave to the receptionist as she walked past. She had been picking Emily up after her appointment every week for a long while so was able to just walk through to the waiting room. There were still a few minutes to go in the appointment so she sat down and looked at the selection of magazines on offer on the table in front of her. “Want to work!? Of course I don’t!” Amelia froze. She looked at the door to Catherine’s office and could see it was open just a tiny amount. Combined with the suddenly raised voice she could hear what was happening. It was Emily and she sounded belligerent. Amelia bit her lip, she knew she was intruding but wasn’t sure what to do. Before she could make a decision, she heard more voices. “But why not?” Catherine asked. “Why would ANYONE want to work when they don’t have to?” Emily asked in response, “God, I don’t know why Amelia has to mess everything up. We’re happy like this!” “Are you both happy with the way things are?” Catherine asked, “Or is it just you who’s happy?” “I haven’t heard Amelia complain.” Emily responded. Amelia’s hands balled into fists. She couldn’t believe she was hearing this from her wife. She had asked for more help around the home or for Emily to get a job more times than she could remember. Was Emily just lying to the therapist or had she outright ignored her all this time? “Look, Amelia does everything and, you know what, I think it makes her happy.” Emily’s voice said, “She likes looking after everything and being in control. She might think she wants me to do more but I think we’re all happier carrying on as normal.” Amelia didn’t know whether to be angry or upset. As the therapist’s room either went quiet or voices were lowered Amelia slumped in her seat. She loved Emily and always had, but she had never felt quite as despondent over the state of their marriage as she did right there and then. She had made it clear, many times over, that she didn’t want to have to do all the work in the relationship. Emily either hadn’t listened or didn’t care, she wasn’t sure which was worse. For the next five minutes Amelia sat in the waiting room staring straight ahead. The longer she waited the angrier she became. In some ways she felt bad, she wasn’t supposed to hear what was said in therapy, but she had and she couldn’t change that. She had genuinely thought she was getting Emily to start picking up the slack again but it seemed that wasn’t happening at all. For the first time she started to think about divorce. “Ah, hello Amelia, nice to see you.” The door had opened and Amelia had been so lost in her own head she hadn’t even noticed. “Oh, Catherine, yes, sorry I was miles away.” Amelia said as she stood up. Amelia noticed Emily was looking quite surly with her shoulders slumped and eyes turned towards the ground. Knowing that she wasn’t supposed to know about what her lazy wife had said Amelia walked forwards and hugged her. She planted a little kiss on her cheek as she always did. “Are we still on for drinks this weekend?” Amelia asked the therapist. “Of course.” Catherine replied with a smile, “I’ll give you a call later, alright?” “Sure thing.” Amelia replied. She walked over and hugged her good friend. “Can we go?” Emily asked rather rudely. Amelia gave Catherine a small smile and then turned to lead the way out of the building with Emily right behind her. She felt like there was tension in the air, in truth there had been tension between them for quite some time. She decided to break the silence once they got down to the car. “How was therapy?” Amelia asked. “Alright.” Emily replied. She had her arms folded across the chest and was looking out the side window. “What did you talk about?” Amelia asked lightly, “Of course, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” “Stuff.” Emily grunted in reply. “Suit yourself…” Amelia muttered to herself as she drove out of the car lot and on to the road. If Emily wasn’t interested in conversation, she wasn’t going to force the issue herself. The drive was completely in silence. Amelia was constantly wrestling with what to do about Emily and the knowledge that she had no intention of stepping up to be an equal partner in the relationship. She was desperate to find a way to make their relationship work again, she considered suggesting couples therapy but it was a big enough struggle to get Emily to see Catherine once a week as it was. “I’m going for a nap.” Emily said as soon as they got in the front door a little later, “Call me when dinner is ready.” Amelia sighed through her nose with her lips pursed as her wife when straight up the stairs without even a thank you for picking her up. Of course, Amelia would be expected to cook dinner, even though she had been at work all day and had only just stepped in the house. She kicked off her shoes rather forcefully before stomping through to the kitchen. --- If you enjoyed this and would like to see the next part of the story RIGHT NOW you can do so on my SubscribeStar and Ream pages: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/m1cuafz5dm/chapter/6af1e1c0-cbba-4cfc-981b-37cb05a70f77 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1508581
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Chapter 1 Abby stumbled through the dense woods, following a faint trail that led her to a dilapidated house. Its wooden shutters hung loosely on rusted hinges, its roof sagging and covered in green moss. She hesitantly stepped closer, her eyes scanning the peeling paint and broken windows. Despite its appearance, the house seemed to call out to her, a glimmer of hope in the dark forest. “God what am I doing out here I know this is on the far end of the property, but I have no idea why it’s even here, it wasn’t even listed on the land plot, and I can’t find any record of this place.” Abby thought out loud. Abby's heart raced as she approached the weathered porch, its boards creaking beneath her feet. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her, its gaze piercing through the shadows of the surrounding trees. Her small frame shivered, not from the cool forest air, but from a sense of unease that crept along her spine. She reached for the tarnished doorknob, her hand trembling. As her fingers brushed against the cold metal, a whisper seemed to float on the breeze, incomprehensible yet somehow familiar. Abby froze, straining her ears to catch the sound again, but only silence greeted her. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, trying to steady her nerves. "It's just an old house. There's nothing to be afraid of." But as she turned the knob, a soft click echoing through the stillness The door swung open with a haunting creak, revealing a musty interior shrouded in shadows. Abby hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the grimy windows. Dust motes danced in the air, stirred by her entrance, and the floorboards groaned beneath her feet. She moved cautiously through the front room, her gaze sweeping over faded wallpaper and tattered furniture. An ornate mirror hung crookedly on one wall, its silver surface tarnished and clouded with age. Abby caught a glimpse of her reflection, her thin face pale and eyes wide with apprehension. As she explored further, she discovered a narrow staircase leading to the upper floor. Each step seemed to whisper secrets as she ascended, her hand trailing along the weathered banister. The upper landing stretched before her. She comes to the top and notices a bright pink door on one side of the room, she slowly walks over to it her Curiosity overwhelming her. Abby approached the bright pink door, its vibrant hue a stark contrast to the rest of the house's muted decay. Her hand hovered over the tarnished brass knob, hesitating for a moment before grasping it firmly. With a deep breath, she turned the handle and pushed the door open, wincing at the loud creak that echoed through the empty hallway. As the door swung wide, Abby's eyes widened in surprise. Before her lay a nursery, frozen in time like a faded photograph. Soft, muted light filtered through a dusty window, casting long shadows across the room. The walls, once a cheerful yellow, were now peeling and stained with age. Faded circus animals danced along a tattered border, their painted smiles eerie in the dim light. In the corner stood a white wooden crib, its paint chipped and flaking and falling off to the other side an old toy chest seemingly filled with toys and the like. She looks around but can’t find anything she would want in here, so she slowly backs out of the room and leaves the door behind her letting the room be lost to time forever. “Ok enough of that this is already creepy enough I don’t wanna be in here any long time to gtfo.” She hurries as fast as she can down the stairs and to the main room, she does one more look around before she heads out the front door closing it behind her. She stops quickly and looks around, everything around her looks different and flat. She remembers there being woods everywhere but now it’s all flat land, she quickly turns around to grab the doorknob and the door and house are gone, she’s all alone in the middle of nowhere and has no idea where she is at. Abby's heart pounded in her chest as she spun around, her eyes desperately scanning the barren landscape. Where once stood a dense forest now stretched an endless expanse of featureless, sunbaked earth. The sudden transformation of her surroundings sent her mind reeling, unable to process the impossible change. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she stumbled forward, her legs weak and unsteady. The air felt thick and oppressive, pressing down on her like a physical weight. The sky above her, once a patchwork of leaves and branches, now loomed vast and empty, a pale, sickly yellow that seemed to pulse and writhe. Panic clawed at her throat as she tried to call out for help, but her voice emerged as little more than a strangled whimper. The silence that enveloped her was absolute, broken only by the sound of her heart. As Abby's initial panic began to subside, her racing thoughts slowly coalesced into a singular, urgent realization: she needed to find shelter. The oppressive heat of the barren landscape beat down upon her, and she could feel her skin beginning to prickle with the first signs of sunburn. With no landmarks to guide her, she made an arbitrary decision to head east, hoping that direction might lead her to salvation. She set off across the desolate plain, her feet sinking slightly into the parched earth with each step. The horizon shimmered in the distance, a mirage-like wavering that made it impossible to discern where the land ended, and the sky began. As she walked, Abby noticed strange plants and trees after a while, and she saw birds bigger than she could ever believe. “What the hell is going on? Why are the birds so freaking huge?!?! And holy shit! Is that a squirrel it’s massive.” Abby ventured deeper into the bizarre landscape; her senses overwhelmed by the strange sights surrounding her. The trees towered impossibly high, their trunks as wide as houses and their leaves the size of cars. Vines as thick as her arm snaked across the forest floor, their tendrils reaching out as if trying to grasp her ankles. As she pushed through the dense undergrowth, a rustling sound caught her attention. She froze, her eyes widening as a rabbit the size of a medium sized dog hopped into view. Its long ears twitched, each one nearly as tall as Abby herself. The creature's nose quivered as it sniffed the air, its whiskers swaying like thick ropes. Abby held her breath, afraid to move. The giant rabbit's eyes, each as big as her fist, locked onto her for a moment before it bounded away. Abby breathed a sigh of relief and kept on walking her journey long and hard before she finally found a small cave underneath a large tree that she could stop and rest in. She looked down at herself, happy she had worn sweatpants and a shirt with a hoodie over it, thinking it was one of the smartest ideas she had ever had now. She pulled her knees close to her and pulled the hoodie over them to try and keep as warm as possible knowing it was getting dark and would soon cool off, she just hoped she could survive the night at this point As night fell, the alien forest came alive with a symphony of unfamiliar sounds. Eerie whistles and low, rumbling calls echoed through the darkness, punctuated by the occasional rustle of massive leaves. Abby huddled deeper into her makeshift shelter, her body trembling from a mixture of cold and fear. Eventually, exhaustion overcame her anxiety, and she drifted into a fitful sleep. When dawn broke, shafts of golden light filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. Abby stirred, her eyes fluttering open to a world transformed by the morning sun. She attempted to stretch but winced as pain shot through her body. Every muscle ached, a testament to her arduous journey the day before and her uncomfortable sleeping position. Despite the discomfort, a wave of relief washed over her. She had survived the night and was alive. Abby slowly rose to her feet, her joints creaking in protest. She stepped out of the cave, blinking in the dazzling morning light. The forest around her seemed even more vibrant and otherworldly in the golden glow of dawn. Massive flowers, their petals as large as dinner plates, unfurled to greet the sun. Dew droplets the size of marbles clung to blades of grass that towered over her head. Determined to find water, Abby set off through the undergrowth. She pushed aside ferns with leaves broader than her entire body, their delicate fronds tickling her face as she passed. The air was thick with the heady scent of unknown blossoms and rich, loamy earth. As she walked, Abby noticed strange, iridescent insects flitting between the enormous plants. Their wings shimmered with colors she had never seen before in her life. After walking for hours Abby could hear water in the distance and grew excited, she started running at full speed, reaching a small stream she got down on her knees and started drinking the water by the handful. “Well, that’s water solved but I’m starving and need to find something to eat soon or I’m going to have more than one problem.” Abby took off her clothes and got in the water for a small swim and to pee, knowing it would just go downstream she knew that she had to head that way after she was done. Refreshed by her swim, Abby reluctantly climbed out of the cool stream. She wrung out her long hair and slipped back into her clothes, grateful for their familiar comfort in this strange world. As she laced up her shoes, she took a moment to marvel at the scene around her. The stream gurgled merrily over rocks the size of cars, creating miniature waterfalls that sparkled in the dappled sunlight. Dragonflies as large as small birds darted above the water's surface, their gossamer wings refracting the light into prismatic rainbows. With a deep breath, Abby began her journey downstream. The riverbank was a riot of color and texture. Moss as soft as velvet carpeted the ground, interspersed with mushrooms that stood taller than she did. Their caps were mottled with swirling patterns that seemed to shift and change as she stepped. Abby set off downstream, her steps more purposeful now that she had a direction to follow. As she walked, the landscape gradually shifted. The dense, jungle-like foliage gave way to more open terrain, with rolling hills covered in grass that shimmered like spun silver in the breeze. Massive flowers dotted the landscape, their petals a riot of colors she had never seen before - deep purples that seemed to glow from within, blues so vivid they hurt her eyes, and reds that pulsed like living flame. Strange creatures scurried through the grass, some resembling oversized rodents with iridescent fur, others more like insects with too many legs and eyes that glowed like tiny stars. In the sky, creatures that looked like a cross between birds and bats soared on leathery wings, their necks twisting as they called to each other in haunting, musical tones calls echoing across the vast expanse. As Abby crested a particularly steep hill, her breath caught in her throat. There, on the distant horizon, rose a sight that defied belief. A colossal city sprawled across the landscape, its spires and towers reaching impossibly high into the sky. The structures seemed to be made of a material that shimmered and shifted like liquid metal, their surfaces reflecting the light in dazzling arrays of color. Massive bridges spanned between the towering edifices, their graceful arches adorned with intricate patterns that appeared to move and dance as she watched. At the heart of the city stood a central tower that dwarfed all others, its peak disappearing into the clouds above. Pulsing beams of light in every hue imaginable shot from its apex, creating a mesmerizing lightshow that painted the sky. Abby was shocked, she knew at heart she was no longer on Earth anymore, she just had no idea where she was.
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age regression Dawn and Dusk (Mature) (Chapter Two)
Baby Jemma posted a topic in Story and Art Forum
Hey-lo, and welcome to another new story of mine! Yes, I have a lot of them, seemingly, but this one stuck in my mind. Imagine a place where elves and dwarves exist alongside humanity, but in two separate cities for each kind, all across the countries of the world. Naturally, business and legal machinations and such play a huge role in this story, as do specific irl problems (gangs, poverty, etc.), so I will warn you on that front. Everything else comes secondary. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. So, with all of that said, do enjoy~ - Chapter One: Ocean Slalom - Remus Solarastarr was in the zone of the U.S. Olympic ocean slalom qualifier race. The twenty-one-year-old non-binary person had drowned out all noise, tensed at the sound of a firing gun to begin the race, the sport being a profession that they had been exceptional at for a long time. Ocean slalom was like a combination of swimming, track, and ski-slalom: hit all of the targets in the ocean area, all while competing against fellow athletes who were quite allowed to jostle for position and do everything except kill a fellow competitor. They loved it, especially since they were the only human who could potentially qualify to be on the Olympic team; the rest were mostly elves with a scattering of dwarves. Yeah, about that. Elves and dwarves lived in an area known as the “Two Cities”, just outside of Portland, Oregon. Two cities - Dawningshire for the elves and Duskenstoning for the dwarves - with their own laws and their own magical properties keeping the areas in perpetual morning and twilight, respectively. Remus had been born in Dawningshire to a human mother; their father was completely absent from their life. Due to…circumstances beyond their control, their mother was no longer allowed in either city, and they had been adopted by an elvish family. The same family - the powerful Equinox family, namely their adoptive mother, father, and siblings - was in the stands; they had seen them before the race. Quin was at the end of the finish line, hoping to see them. They owed their best friend everything; it was she who begged her family to take them in when they needed it instead of letting them go to an orphanage or - worse still - under the control of their mother. Cal, a dwarven friend, had managed to find the legal documents necessary for the adoption to happen. Quin. Cal. The best friends a human from the Two Cities could ask for. The gun fired, and the thirty competitors immediately leapt into the water, their forms changing into various animals, by using a powerful bit of magic native only to the Two Cities and others like them: a “familiar”, it was called. Of course, Remus, being born in Dawningshire, was the rare human with access to one themself: a hammerhead shark familiar. They felt the form absorb their clothes, muscularity increasing as their limbs twisted, their bones morphed into cartilage, and, most important of all, the fins and the tail. They thrashed their tail, feeling the water and oxygen surge through them, as they dodged a blow to the gills from a mako shark. Instantly, they knew who the mako was: Trix, from the famed Bellatrix family, and a hated rival to both Remus and the Equinox siblings. Trix had been a thorn in their side from elementary school on, a typical rich bitch who would gladly use the words, “Do you know who my parents are?!” to get her way - and she usually did get it; having both parents as the District Attorneys of West and East Dawningshire made her heiress to one of the most powerful positions in the elvish city. They ignored Trix, setting their keen underwater vision on the first gate - two poles that one had to pass through and hit to prove their time - as the rest of the competitors jockeyed for position, clearly in the back. They hit the pole with their tail at the same time as Trix, who immediately sped off for the second pole. They remained calm, even though Trix was ahead of them by a bit, even as a few other competitors came closer, including a dwarven sea dragon. They knew that the race was a testament to not just speed, but endurance, that Trix’s mako shark was blazing fast…but easily tired in her familiar; they had raced against her long enough, being from the same college, to know as much. Remus sped off towards the second gate that Trix had already hit, slapping it with their tail. Seventy-three left. The sea dragon had come a bit closer, trying to knock them out of the way of the third pole, but they hugged the dragon, nudging them ever so slightly, as they passed through the gate, barely managing to hit the right pole with their tail. Seventy-two. Now to put some distance ahead. Remus sped up, feeling the oxygen pass through their gills, as their muscles started to burn, seeing Trix ahead getting the next gate. The enby person felt a crash behind them vibrate through the water, as the sea dragon and a great white shark collided with each other, as they hit the next gate. Seventy-one. Gate after gate managed to go by in the blink of an eye until they reached the final ten, and they were tiring, their muscles screaming in pain, as they forced themselves forward. But Trix was clearly tiring as well, as they caught up to her. She snapped at Remus’s left fin with her fangs, and blood sprayed from the appendage as they stunned her with a simultaneous tail slap to her gills, not having any more time for her petty bullshit as they passed the first of the final ten - the longest gates. They ignored the blood pouring from their screaming fin, forcing their fins to maneuver towards the second of the ten, slapping the pole with their tail. Come on, just a bit more, just a bit more, and then it’ll be over. They forced their muscles, their gills, everything about them to get to the next pole, slapping it with their tail. Seven more, just seven more… Everything hurt, oh, God, it hurt like a bitch! But they would not be deterred, even as Trix came back, having recovered enough to regain second, although a tiger shark competitor (the races were magically fixed so that wildlife couldn’t come on the course by accident) was on them as well, driven by the scent of blood, as they passed the next gate at the same time as Trix. Six more. Fucking come at me! Trix tried to bite at their gills this time, and filled with a surge of anger - yes, let the fucking anger flow through you, and your journey towards the finish line will be complete! …Or something like that. - they slowed a touch as she missed, rammed into her with their head, knocking one of her fangs loose, and slapping her gills twice again as they passed her for good measure, as they hit the fifth-to-last gate. Half. Way. There… The action had caused the tiger shark to come close as they bit at Remus’s tail, but they flicked it aside for the tiger shark’s attack to miss, burning more and more energy than they felt they had ever burned before, feeling their blood pumping precious oxygen to their brain as they quickly sped away, hitting the fourth-to-last gate. Four. More. Gates… Trix, to her credit, had recovered, and Remus heard the tiger shark hiss in pain, as the Bellatrix heiress bit down on the tail before moving on to Remus again, as they both passed the gate with Remus ahead. Three. Just...three… Trix succeeded in biting down on Remus’s tail, and they let out a snarl, flicking the smaller shark aside, but otherwise ignoring her: if she wanted to attack the competitors more than complete the race, that was fine by them. Blood sprayed from their tail, but they ignored it, to pass through the next gate. Two…more… Trix finally seemed to get it through her stupid, bitchy head that she needed to finish the race, but Remus positioned themself to knock her away from the gate as they passed through it - which would cause the mako to lose precious seconds to the hammerhead. Finish line… The giant gate was there, and even though every muscle in Remus’s body was screaming for them to stop, they wouldn’t. No, they would not stop, not when they were so close. They put on a final burst of speed, the competitors flying behind them…as they passed the finish line first. They swam a bit in a lazy victory lap…before Trix bit them on the gills, obviously furious that they had caused her to come in second. They snarled angrily, shaking her off and turning to human form, bleeding from their chest, legs, and hand, their feminine swimsuit covering most of their body, as medical personnel quickly went over to Remus and used the various medicine supplies - invented by the elves - to clot the blood. “Racer One!” an elvish judge snapped, his pale skin gleaming in the sunlight, directing his anger towards the now-elf-formed Trix, who was giving Remus a horrible death-glare. “The race is over, so no more attacks are allowed on others! Five seconds will be docked from your time!” “But-” “Five seconds docked from Racer One’s time,” a dwarven judge - ironically not being short like the stereotyped dwarf, although his darkened, hardened skin showed himself as truly a dwarf - said calmly. Remus crawled onto the platform, feeling their wounds heal quickly, hearing the words, “Racer Twenty-seven, Mx. Remus Solarastarr of Dawningshire National Academy, is the winner of the competition! Coming in second place…” They barely heard the next few words, as Quin Equinox flung themselves into their 5’10” body in a giant hug, her pale green eyes literally glowing (as was custom with elves) with happiness and her long, white-blonde hair touching their damp tanned skin. “OHMYSPIRITS, I KNEW YOU’D DO IT, REMY!” she squealed like a giddy schoolgirl. “I’mma tell Cal everything, I watched the whole thing as much as I could-” “Easy, Quin,” Remus said with a blush, knowing that their best friend since childhood was the type who would be happy for them no matter what…only for them to blush further as they realized that only one thing that could happen to make the moment not-as-happy had happened. Their swim diaper had leaked, and Quin had noticed. “Hey, it’s all right. They’ll probably just want pictures, but we can get those later, you know?” she said, her eyes sympathetic to her friend’s plight. “Whatever, you fucking baby.” Trix’s voice came next. “I can’t believe anyone even wanted a baby like you, you fucking soulless piece of shit.” Quin let out a hiss, and Remus couldn’t blame her: not only did their families loathe each other on rivalry principle, but “soulless” was the biggest slur that could possibly be used in the elvish language, given their immense pride of spirits. “Hey, ignore her,” Remus said quickly, before they turned their hazel eyes on Trix, their damp, long curly-brown hair plastered to their body. “She’s just upset that a little human baby beat her, is all.” Trix couldn’t even sputter out an angry comeback, only settling for a grumble as she walked over to her family’s maid, an old, yet still tall and muscular African woman with graying hair, in angry silence. “Miss Equinox, Mx. Solarastarr, are you quite all right?” a posh Irish accent echoed. Remus sighed, knowing the Equinox family butler, Finbarr O’Mooney had come into the picture, as the old man looked at the African woman for just a moment before his calm light-gray eyes the same color as his hair appraised the situation. “I suppose a bit of privacy would be necessary?” “That would be lovely, thank you, Fin,” Quin said politely, as she and Remus got away from the situation. They walked over to the restroom door, the elf discreetly handing over a bag containing their normal clothes and a diaper for Remus to change into. “I’m sorry about Trix,” she said with a facade of calm before her anger spilled out. “She really is…ugh! I can’t stand that bitch…” “She’s just pissy because she hates the idea of a human beating her at anything,” Remus said, before gently closing the door for privacy. They sighed. Even since their…injuries, they had been unable to control anything about their bladder or bowels. It was a curse, but…well, that was life, right? They quickly got changed into the fresh clothes: a black T-shirt, a long, white pleated skirt, socks, sneakers, and - of course - the fresh diaper, while putting the dirty clothes in the bag, zipping it up. They exited the bathroom and prepared to meet the media. - Hope y'all enjoyed~ -
I wrote this story when I was a little drunk, it's not great but I like it. Let me know if this topic interests you If someone asked me how all this started, I wouldn’t know how to answer. I only know that one morning I woke up, and the bed was wet. Obviously, my mother was not happy at all; she spent the morning yelling at me. She couldn’t understand how an 18-year-old girl could wake up in a wet bed and have no idea why. I don’t really remember the feeling of a wet bed; I just know that by the fourth night of lying in my own urine, my mother brought home a pack of pull-ups. The pull-ups were pink and covered in heart-shaped patterns. They weren’t like regular underwear; they were padded but more discreet compared to what I wear now. I cried and yelled at my mom, refusing to wear them, but in the end, she was right: I had become a stupid girl who wet the bed. The first time I wore them, I was surprised by how comfortable they were and how they didn’t show under my pajama pants. The next morning, I woke up dry. I was happy, moving my legs under the sheets, but then my hand reached the new underwear. Pressing it, I felt the imprint of a cold liquid still soaking the cover. I got up with my heart in my throat. My pull-up was soaked. I didn’t even tell my mother; she already expected it. I simply took it off, threw it away, and got dressed for class. And so I quickly went through the first two packs of 10 pull-ups: it had become a routine. In the evening, I brushed my teeth, put on the pull-up, and wore my pajamas. I even stopped changing it immediately; sometimes I went straight to breakfast. The worst part was when I lost control during the day. At first, it was just a more urgent need to pee, then a few drops would come out, and eventually, I ended up wetting myself freely. My mother took me to all the doctors in the world, but none could give me an answer. In the end, she gave up and made me wear pull-ups during the day. Then came the summer holidays, between wet pull-ups and often failed bathroom runs. Summer arrived, and it was time for diapers. I still remember the first time I pooped in my pull-up: I was at lunch and felt a strange sensation in my butt. It was like an itch that disappeared as soon as I pushed. I spread my legs and without realizing it, I pushed everything into my pull-up. The most embarrassing part was that I was in front of my mother, who looked at me in shock. That was the last time I wore pull-ups. I still remember the first diaper I wore. Of course, my mother spanked me heavily to make me wear it. The diaper was childish, white with a parade of bears carrying crayons on the front. The diaper came up over my navel, tightened at the level of my pubis, and then widened at my butt. It was incredibly comfortable, I felt like I was hugged by a cushion. At first, when my mother wasn’t looking, I played by patting my butt, marveling at the fact that I didn’t feel anything. Over time, my continence worsened: I wet myself freely, often without noticing, finding the diaper soaked. For pooping, it was different: I knew when I was doing it but didn’t have much warning. Eventually, I gave up trying to run to the bathroom and simply stopped wherever I was, spread my legs, and filled my diaper. The only thing that consoled me was that I was home for the summer holidays. What changed was my relationship with my mother: at first, I changed myself, not too happily when I smelled, and she commented that I didn’t put the diaper on correctly. Then she started automatically fixing the diaper tabs, ignoring my annoyed face. Then she started coming into my room while I was changing to see if I was doing everything right. Finally, she made me lie down, and she changed me. To be honest, I wasn’t too opposed, after all, it was one less dirty job. The only problem was that she started checking if I needed a change. Eventually, I became dependent on her; I no longer monitored the state of my diaper, and if my mother didn’t change me, I would stay in a dirty one for hours. It must have been the summer heat, but eventually, I started going around the house with just a t-shirt and the diaper in view, my mother cleaning my dirty butt, so who cared. I giggled when I saw myself in the mirror. I liked how my butt would sag and wobble after wetting. I even stopped noticing the smell of a dirty diaper. Then came the changing table. My mom bought it and put it in my bathroom: it was like a cabinet, painted pink, with drawers to keep my supplies. There was a purple ladder I used to climb up, and on top, there was a white mattress. It was very comfortable; I climbed up, lay down, and my mother did everything. I soon learned the difference between day and night diapers: the night ones were thicker, and I could sleep without fear of leaking. I realized I actually needed diapers one day, during a change, when I peed without noticing. My legs were still open, and the clean diaper had just been placed under my butt. Luckily, my mother was quick enough to close the front part, waiting for me to finish. Then I started sucking my thumb; I don’t remember how it happened the first time, I just know it ended up in my mouth automatically when I slept or did homework. After the thumb came the pacifier, “better for your teeth,” my mother said. The first pacifier was white and pink with a bunny drawn on it. I sucked on it often, not because it was really necessary, but because it was a habit, like I needed it to feel good or calm down. Then came the bottle: I started spilling the contents of glasses on myself, and soon my mother placed a bottle in front of me at dinner. I didn’t object; I was too thirsty. Drinking from a bottle was completely different: I could carry it around, drink lying down, drink while playing and studying. But what was strangest was my relationship with the outside world and my friends. Nobody cared that I was in diapers, nobody cared if I messed up in the middle of a store while shopping. The same went for my friends; they treated me like it was all normal, like the pacifier and diapers were my normal. It was different from how a child is treated, no, mine was normal, as if I were a regular 18-year-old girl. None of my friends said anything if my diaper was soaked, none seemed to notice my words distorted by the pacifier in my mouth. When we went out for drinks, I was sure my friends got a glass while I got a bottle. Eventually, I stopped worrying that people would see my diaper, nobody cared anyway, sometimes I even went out with just a t-shirt and the diaper in view. I forgot almost immediately that diapers were not my classic garment until a few weeks ago, simply as my friend clara wore pink panties, I had a nice padded diaper, white with pink hearts. After the pacifier, after the bottle, came the baby clothes. I discovered that I liked dungarees, especially with shorts; I also liked the bulge that could be glimpsed between my pubes and my bottom: it had become my outfit for evenings. To stay at home I often wore rompers: I had all kinds, one more childish than the other, and then according to my mother it was easier to change if there were buttons on my bottom. Another fact to recount is the sleepover at Clara's house. I showed up about 7 p.m.: I was wearing my favorite dungarees, pacifier in my mouth and hair pulled back in pigtails. I had my diaper bag with the essentials with me. Clara opened the door and let me in, we stood in the living room watching TV series, eating popcorn and drinking lots of coke of course from my bottle Toward the end of the first season my diaper was heavily in danger of leaking. It was at that moment that Clara surprised me by saying: " do you want me to change your diaper?" I turned and looked at her surprised; I had always thought that only my mother knew. " yes, if possible," I said somewhere between a flicker of shame and insecurity. He took me by the hand and walked me to the bathroom where he made me lie down. I didn't know what to say, I was embarrassed at first but then I realized it wasn't that different from when my mother did it so I let go. We finished changing and went to the bedroom where we chatted for a while as if it was normal for my best friend to change my diaper. Then Clara asked a question that amazed me: "How does it feel to poop in a diaper?" I looked at her a little stunned. "Well, I first feel a sensation on my bottom, as if my diaper wanted me to do it, then I feel that I have to push I spread my knees and do. I feel when my body starts to empty. When the poop comes out of me I can feel it flowing inside the diaper, like it's very hot and then it settles there until they change me," I replied with a splash of honesty. "It sounds extra gross," said clara. Eventually the strange questions ended and we went to bed. And so it was that July came between messy diapers and drunk bottles. It was on my birthday that my mother let me find the high chair: it was white, with two wooden dumbbells, one on the right, one on the left, and on one side, the seat was padded, white, like the small table that lowered over my legs. I didn't know what to say, the only thing I did was wet my diaper, strangely enough.... But my mother seemed so enthusiastic, so I indulged her. The feeling of being in a high chair is strange but I will try to describe it : the high chair is a taller chair and my legs are dangling, the padding is great, always to be on a cloud. The coffee table is lowered under my chest is comfortable because it is close and I don't get dirty with food What I learned after settling down is that diapers and high chairs are connected, if I wasn't padded and had to run to the potty I wouldn't get there in time. The only downside is that I have to depend on my mother to pass me the dishes and the baby bottle Then I felt a new instinct: why not eat with my hands? I couldn't resist, took the oatmeal and smeared it in my mouth, getting it all over me. "Baby but you are making everything dirty," my mother said, and she fastened a bib around my neck: it was white and had colorful dots. It took me two or three seconds before I realized it was there because I was getting dirty, I continued to eat as if nothing was wrong. Quick napkin wipe and diaper change and I was ready for the day. And here a question arises: why don't you rebel against what is in fact a regression? I don't have any answers: I never thought about it, it is simply becoming part of my life, after all, I don't even think I know more things a potty from the grown-ups. Another change that I didn't initially notice was my desire to play, it grew incredibly: as soon as I had the chance I would swing into my little room playing with my dolls. The homework period was getting shorter and shorter. And then my mother told me that I would change schools: it would be a more suitable school for me. I still remember my first day: I was wearing a T-shirt, a skirt that obviously did not hide the diaper. What I did not realize at first was that it was a kindergarten. The teacher came up to us. "Hey little one, that's nice." "How come you don't wear a uniform?" " I don't..." I found out later that the uniform was a T-shirt with the kindergarten logo and that the pants did not exist. Then again, they had to know when I was due for a change. On a positive note, the girls all wore the same kind of diaper: a white pink one with a rabbit drawn on it. The average age was roughly 2-3 years but I was immediately accepted as one of them. After all, there wasn't too much difference. The day in kindergarten was divided like this: From 8 to 10:30 a.m. free play Diaper change until 11 a.m. 11-12:30 lunch 12:30-3:00 p.m.: lecture Diaper change and nap and then at 5 p.m. my mother would come and pick me up. I don't remember the day very much, the first time I went home almost angry, I wanted to keep playing. Perhaps the only flaw was the diaper changes: in front of all the other girls, they would make me lie down and then change me. But I soon realized that no one cared what I was up to in my diaper. And so I began to live a dual life: until 5:30 p.m. as a child, from 6 p.m. with my adult friends. In school I had a new best friend, her name was anna and she was 3 years old. Soon the days passed and became weeks and then months. Without realizing it I lost the ability to read and write, now barely knowing how to spell my name. The only activity where I picked up a pencil was to color the drawings the teachers gave me Then I lost my big friends who were replaced by kindergarten friends. I don't know how old I am anymore and I don't care. I became a little girl who churns out stinky diapers and sucks her finger, kind of like anna and I like that. THE END Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story. Remember to leave a like! If you enjoy my writing and want to read more, check out my Risma account where you'll find all my stories and the new ones I'm working on. https://reamstories.com/scrittoreanon
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The following is a PREVIEW of a brand new story that you can find on my subscriber pages. I have 35 stories available for subscribers that are available nowhere else and you can read all of them RIGHT NOW if you subscribe at the $10 tier or higher. Writing is my only form of income and all the money I make from it goes towards helping with bills, groceries and other expenses. It means the world to me to have people who enjoy and support what I do, without their support I simply would not be able to spend my time writing. I want to tank everyone who subscribes to me and everyone who checks out my latest story! Thank you ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- A truck roared past Tina, shaking the car she was sitting in gently as the wind buffeted her. She blinked a couple of times and looked around with confusion. She was parked at a small service station on the short part of the highway that connected Sunny Days Retirement Centre with her home. “How did I…” Tina trailed off as she looked around. She felt groggy and strange. The last thing Tina remembered was sitting at the Retirement Centre. It felt like she had blinked and when her eyes opened, she was in her car miles away from where she had been before. She checked her phone and saw that several hours had passed. She’d zoned out before whilst working but she’d never experienced lost time quite like that. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember anything that had happened for quite some time. Tina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It felt like something was missing and that its absence was making her uneasy. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, as she tried to think hard about how she had ended up there or why it felt like she should have something around her butt she subconsciously brought her thumb up to her mouth. It had already passed her lips before she realised what she was doing. She quickly pulled it out, staring at her hand as if it was operating on its own accord, when she noticed that she had a deep yearning to put it back in her mouth. “I’m just tired…” Tina said to herself, “It’s been a long day pretending to be nice to those old people, I need to go home and rest.” But no matter how much Tina tried to ignore how she was feeling or explain away the weird cravings she couldn’t pretend like she didn’t want something to fill her mouth. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t feel like she should be sitting on something like a pillow. It made no sense to her and yet it fully occupied in mind. She tried to start driving but it was like her mind wouldn’t let her concentrate on anything until at least one of these conditions were met. Tina put her thumb back in her mouth. As soon as she did so it became that much easier to concentrate on what she had to do to get home. Thankfully the car was an automatic so driving one-handed wasn’t an impossibility. She turned the key to turn the engine on and then pulled out to continue on the journey home. The lack of material around Tina’s waist was still distracting her and she kept shifting in her seat as if it would help. She sucked on her thumb in concentration as the car rolled down the highway. Normally she would drive as quickly as she felt she could get away with, it’s how she had ended up with so many speeding tickets, but now she was travelling well under the speed limit as she tried her best to just get home. She would blush every time she was passed and saw a bewildered driver looking into her car to see the thumb-sucking woman. “Just get home… Just get home…” Tina mumbled around her thumb as drool dripped down her chin. People stared as they passed. Tina tried to keep her eyes straight ahead but it was difficult to ignore the way she was stared at. She was nearly off the highway when she saw blue lights illuminate her car. She looked up into the rearview mirror to see a police car right behind her. “Oh crap.” Tina mumbled. She pulled over and took her thumb out of her mouth. Almost immediately her brain was telling her she needed to put it back in. Looking in the wing mirror, Tina could see the police officer walking up to her car. She was gripping the steering wheel extra hard just to prevent her brain from sticking one of her thumbs in her mouth. It was like she was addicted. “License and registration please.” The officer said as he approached the window. Tina leaned over to the glove compartment. As she did so she became acutely aware of how something was missing. That pillow she felt like she should have between her legs became something she craved. Retrieving her documents she handed them to the officer who looked through them. “Is… Is there a problem?” Tina asked. “You were driving a little slowly back there.” The officer replied, “I wanted to make sure everything was alright.” “Oh, I’m fine.” Tina lied with a smile, “Never better.” “Alright, well, let me just go and check a few things on the computer, OK? Sit tight.” The officer said as he went back to his squad car. Tina drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She wanted nothing more to put her thumb back in her mouth. She didn’t understand it. She’d never had such a strange oral fixation before and yet now she couldn’t stop thinking about sucking on something. Her leg was shaking as she looked in the mirror. The officer was in his squad car talking into his radio. Tina tried to resist the cravings. She tried to think of other things but as soon as she convinced her brain to think about something else it simply settled on the other craving, the need to be sat on something, to feel it wrapped around her waist. She couldn’t even begin to work out what it was she wanted or where the need had come from. She glanced in the mirror again. Still, the officer was sitting in his car. The desire to stick her thumb in her mouth was only growing. Tina thought that maybe she should do it right then, whilst she was alone. If she could satisfy the craving it would be easier to think and she could get home as soon as possible. She was starting to think she might need to call a doctor, something very strange seemed to be happening to her. Unable to resist Tina stuck a thumb out and pushed it into her mouth. She very quickly felt some of the agitation leaving her and she slumped slightly in the seat. It was like a drug. When she didn’t have it, she could think of nothing else but as soon as the craving was satisfied, she was able to relax. She closed her eyes and a small smile curled the corners of her lips. “Ma’am?” The officer appeared back at the window. Tina was startled as she opened her eyes and looked up the policeman standing at her door. He was looking down at her and frowning. She belatedly pulled her thumb out of her mouth as her cheeks blushed red. “Everything seems to be in order.” The officer said somewhat slowly, “Are you sure everything is OK?” “Y-Yes, sir.” Tina replied, “It’s just been a bit of a long day.” “Right…” The officer took a second to get his professionalism back, “OK, well, you may not realise this but driving as slowly as you were can be as dangerous as speeding, alright? It’s difficult for cars behind you to judge your speed.” “Yes, officer.” Tina said. “Alright, you go ahead and have a good evening.” The officer finally finished as he handed Tina her documents back. Tina couldn’t wait to get away from there. As soon as the officer went back to his car, she rolled up her window and started driving again. The policeman followed her for a little bit and Tina made sure to keep up with traffic. Thankfully the squad car soon pulled out from behind her and overtook the car as it carried on down the road. The whole time she had resisted sucking her thumb, not wanting the cop to think she needed to be talked to again. With a sigh of relief, Tina stuck her thumb back in her mouth. Like a smoker getting some nicotine it seemed like just what she needed. Tina turned off the highway at the next exit and carried on back to her house in the leafy suburbs. Pulling into her driveway, Tina was forced to take her digit out from between her lips as she carried her bag inside. She went straight to the living room and dropped on to the couch. As Tina tried to sort out her thoughts, the bag, which she had placed on the edge of the table tipped over and fell to the floor. She closed her eyes as she sucked on her thumb and tried to remember what had happened in the hours that had gone missing. She had been sitting at her table, bored out of her mind, when three women had approached her… after that it was blank. The next thing she remembered was sitting in her car halfway home. Hours had gone missing and she had no idea what had happened, only that she now had this weird obsession with filling her mouth and a need to wrap something around her waist. An idea hit Tina and she quickly stood up. She nearly tripped over the strap of her bag that was hanging over the edge of the table as she went quickly towards the door. She went out into the laundry room where she found a basket of clothes she hadn’t yet put in the washing machine. She dug through it until she felt a towel and pulled it out, scattering some of her clothes on the floor. After some fumbling Tina had managed to wrap the large towel around her waist and tucked the middle up between her legs. She felt the craving for bulk between her thighs drop slightly, though it was still there. It would do for now until she could work out what was happening. Tina went back to the living room with the intention of picking up her phone to call the doctor when she spotted something odd. On the floor was a VHS tape. She hadn’t seen one since she was a child and had certainly never owned one. It must’ve fallen out of her bag when it tipped over. She bent down and picked it up. The white label on top simply said “Watch Me.” “The hell?” Tina said as she picked the tape up, “Who even has a VHS player these days?” Tina thought she was out of luck but there was a lot of junk in the garage. Boxes of stuff from when her parents had passed away that she hadn’t sorted through yet. Waddling awkwardly, with one thumb in her mouth and the other holding up the towel she went out the backdoor towards the garage. “Morning, Tina.” Jeff, Tina’s next-door neighbour shouted over the fence. Tina froze. When she looked to the side, she saw Jeff had been watering his flowers. Now he was looking over the boundary between their two backyards with a confused expression. Tina couldn’t blame him. She hurriedly pulled the thumb out of her mouth and let the towel go as if that in any way might obfuscate what had already been seen. “H-Hello, Jeff.” Tina called out as casually as she could manage, “L-Lovely weather we’re having.” Jeff didn’t reply. Tina quickly carried on to the garage whilst doing her best to suppress the need to start sucking her thumb again. Once in the privacy of her garage she looked around at the boxes which were piled high against the walls. She sighed and started looking through them. In the end, she was very lucky. In just the fourth box she checked she found an old VHS player with the leads still attached. Tina picked it up and hurried back to her house. She didn’t slow down to see if she was still being watched by curious neighbours, she imagined Jeff would be back indoors telling his wife about her strange behaviour. Once back in her living room, Tina hooked up the VHS player to her television and then picked up the tape. She slowly pushed it into the slot and then pressed the play button. For a second nothing happened, but then the screen switched from the cooking show that had been on to a very different scene altogether. “What the fu-…” Tina started to exclaim. She covered her mouth in shock and then slowly lowered it as she took in everything on the screen in front of her. “Hello, Miss. Hinchcliffe. Do you remember me? My name is Wendy.” Tina needed the reminder. She didn’t remember the name of anyone she had met that day, “I’m sure, if you’re watching this, you’ve been having an interesting little time. Don’t worry, dear, all will become clear.” Tina was sat on the floor staring at the TV without being able to comprehend what was happening. Someone must’ve been holding the camera as it now panned from the old lady’s face to the floor behind her. Tina covered her mouth as she let out a little scream. She was sitting on one of the couches in the very room her stall had been set up in earlier that day, stripped of all but her underwear as a group of old people joked and watched on. “Th-This can’t be real!” Tina gasped to no one in particular. The video kept moving forwards with the occasional artifacts seen on old VHS tapes. Tina saw herself sitting on the couch in front of all these old men and women with a distant look in her eyes and a vacant smile on her lips. One of the older women whom she recognised was sat next to her with a strange spiral disk, even watching it on the tape made Tina start to feel somewhat drowsy. “Do you remember, Marge?” Wendy asked as she pointed the camera at the person holding the spiral disk, “Did you know she used to be a stage hypnotist?” Tina’s eyes were wide open. Was this what had happened to her in those missing hours? “We’ll need to give her a sponge bath, of course.” Another older woman said. Wendy turned the camera to another elderly woman. Another of the people who had been sat in front of her table earlier that day, “Don’t worry, Tina, I’m a retired nurse. I don’t imagine you’ll remember but my name’s Harriett, young people like you never bother to remember our names, right?” “Look how young she is!” An older man’s voice called out from somewhere in the crowd, “She’s just a baby!” “Funny you should say that…” Wendy’s voice was coming from behind the camcorder now. It seemed she was the one filming, “Get a pad down underneath her.” Tina watched the screen as her past self stood up compliantly and what looked like several puppy pads was put all over the couch. Tina gasped as Hariett hooked her fingers under Tina’s panties. They came down to wolf-whistles and catcalls from the surrounding crowd. Present Tina’s eyes were filling with tears at the humiliation. It was far from over though. Tina’s bra came off next leaving her small perky breasts to drop slightly. Soon she was completely naked. As she watched the scene unfolding on the TV her thumb found its way back into her mouth, she sucked on it subconsciously, desperate to feel some soothing feelings. She pulled the towel tighter against herself. “Hariett, you know what to do.” Wendy said. Her voice became distorted for a moment. Tina saw the old nurse walk off screen leaving her staring at Marge and what she now realised was happening to her. She’d been hypnotised. It felt impossible, she had never believed in all that mumbo-jumbo and yet she couldn’t deny what she was seeing. Part of her wanted to turn the video off right away but she couldn’t, she had to know what these elderly people had done to her. Hariett returned to the screen with a blue bucket. Tina stared uncomprehendingly at how she just sat and smiled whilst completely naked. She willed the version on herself to get up and run away but she just looked around with glassy eyes as if she was happy to be there. “Everyone, feel free to join in!” Hariett called out, “I brought enough for everyone!” Tina didn’t immediately know what the old woman meant. That was until she saw people taking wet sponges out of the bucket. She whined and felt her humiliation growing as she was sponged down by these old men and women. She could hear the comments they made about her body, as if she was just some toy or doll to be played with. She shivered, shivers ran up and down her body as if she could feel what she was seeing on the screen. “You’re so young…” Wendy said as she zoomed the camera in on Tina’s face, “And yet you think you can come and tell us what to do?” The Tina with her thumb in her mouth whined in embarrassment. She watched as sponges were rubbed on her arms, her legs, her breasts and everything else. It felt impossible that she wouldn’t remember anything. She wondered if it was somehow manipulated footage but that seemed almost more unlikely than the hypnotism she was watching. “You should always listen to your elders.” Marge said. Her voice was soft and dreamlike. She was still letting that pendulum swing back and forth, “You should never talk back to them.” Even as Tina watched the tape, she realised she was nodding in agreement and quickly stopped herself. She felt a shiver go down her spine, she was starting to realise just how vulnerable she had been. It wasn’t just the fact that she was naked, it was also the fact that she had been manipulated. Anything could’ve been done to her mind and she could only watch the tape to find out. “She’s very cute though.” Hariett commented, “Like a newborn baby.” The pad that had been placed beneath the Tina on the screen was getting wetter and wetter as the water from the sponges dripped down over her body. The whole time it was happening, the several excruciating minutes, was filled with these elderly people making jokes and comments about how she was just a silly a little girl. When it finally ended, the sponges were dropped into the bucket again. Tina saw herself still sitting on the sofa with the same vacant smile. Every time someone had moved her arm or leg she had held it out until someone moved it back to its resting position. To have her dignity and free-will so easily stolen terrified her. The worst part was that she knew this wasn’t the end of it. The need to have something wrapped around her waist and her thumb sucking still hadn’t been explained. Tina pressed pause on the VCR. She didn’t feel like she could watch any more. The more she saw the worse it was. She didn’t want to know what those evil women had done and yet she felt compelled to see more. There was no way she could carry on with this desperate need to fill her mouth, just imagining trying to work with these new compulsions made her want to hide away forever. She had to imagine there was an answer to her problems in the video. “Alright, I think she’s as clean as she’s going to get.” Wendy called out from behind the camera. Tina, the one watching the television, saw the camera turn around to point at Wendy’s sneering face. It looked like she was greatly enjoying humbling the younger woman. Tina felt a shiver go down her spine. “Keep watching.” Wendy said, “You’ll love this next part.” Tina swallowed nervously as the camera turned back around to face her strangely absent form on the couch. The towels that had been drying her were pulled away and there was activity from off to the side of the screen. Tina could see the crowd of elderly people moving to let someone through. She was terrified of what was coming. “We have to keep the little girl safe and sound.” Wendy called out to general laughter, “Luckily, she came here. There’s plenty of experience in raising children in this room!” Tina didn’t understand. She clearly wasn’t a child; she was almost thirty! Sure, that may have been less than half the age of most of the baying mob surrounding her but she wasn’t some kid that had got lost and wandered into the retirement centre! Tina’s cell phone suddenly rang making her jump. She fumbled with the remote until she pressed the pause button, the screen freezing on an image of her vacant eyes looking at something just off camera. “Hewwo?” Tina suddenly realised she still had her thumb in her mouth and quickly pulled it out, “Ahem, hello?” “Tina? Is everything OK?” Mr. Harrison asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Tina said quickly. She wondered if a copy of this tape had found its way to her boss or something. “You were supposed to call when you were leaving Sunny Days.” Mr. Harrison reminded her. “Oh, damn, sorry…” Tina shook her head, “Sorry, I’ve been, erm, distracted.” As Tina spoke, she lowered the volume on the TV until it was almost muted and then pressed play. She stared at the screen hoping an answer to what was going on would appear before her. Already she was feeling desperate to put her thumb back in her mouth. “There were no problems then?” Mr. Harrison asked. “No, none at all…” Tina replied. On the screen she watched as Hariett bent her arm and forced her thumb into her mouth to the delight of the crowd. Tina came to the sudden realisation that as she watched herself do it on the screen, she had slipped her digit back between lips as well. She pulled it out quickly leaving some drool to drip on to her chin. “Did you get any signups?” Mr. Harrison asked. “I, erm…” Tina wasn’t really listened. The crowds were looking at something excitedly and a box was being brought forwards. Tina frowned as a pink mat was taken out of the box and laid on the floor. Her past self, naked on the couch, watched on with an indifferent smile. Tina wished she would get up and get out of there but she wouldn’t budge an inch. All she knew was that as she looked at the screen and saw the box, she felt the need to have something thick wrapped her waist grow uncontrollably. A small tub was taken out of the box and placed on the ground next to it. Then a packet of something that looked like tissues and a plastic bag. Tina continued watching almost as hypnotised by what she was seeing as the naked version of herself on the screen. Hariett reached into the box one final time… “Tina? Hello?” Mr. Harrison said. “I’m here, I just…” Tina muttered slowly. Her eyes were transfixed on the screen as she saw the old nurse lift her arm. Tina gasped loudly. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Mr. Harrison asked. “I’ll… I’ll call you back.” Tina said vaguely. With Mr. Harrison still trying to speak to her, Tina hung up the phone and let it drop beside her. The colour drained from her face as she saw a diaper get lifted out of the box. She shook her head but it was starting to make sense. The feeling she had of needing something thick around her waist… On the screen, at the apparent instruction of Marge, Tina stood up and then laid down on the changing mat without any hesitation. Tina turned the volume back up. The diaper that Hariett held was allowed to fall open to the cheers of the crowd who seemed to be loving this change from their usual schedule. Tina’s naked hips compliantly lifted when she was tapped a couple of times on her thigh and the disposable being slipped underneath her. Tina fumbled for the remote and turned the volume up again. She was hearing the voices of the people in the crowd now. They were treating the whole thing like some sort of show or performance and the old women at the centre of it were playing right into it. “Do we think this is thick enough?” Wendy called out from behind the camera. “No!” “Double them up!” “Make it so she has to crawl!” The suggestions were shouted out to laughter from everyone else. Tina watched the screen wondering if there was a single person there with compassion. She wondered where the nurses and staff were. How could all of this have gone unnoticed!? “You heard them.” Wendy said with a laugh. “When we’re finished...” Marge said in that strangely soft voice, “You’ll ALWAYS want thick padding between your legs.” The Tina watching the screen gulped as she felt the need for more padding grow. The towel wasn’t enough. She realised that even as she was watching the hypnosis was being reinforced. She wondered if it would’ve been better to turn the tape off but she had to know what happened to her, she had to know if there was a cure for whatever was going on somewhere in there. On the screen, a second and then a third diaper were taken out of the box. Tina couldn’t believe what she was seeing as, yet again, her crotch raised compliantly in the air allowing the unfolded diapers to be stacked on top of each other. “Stop it!” Tina yelled to herself in frustration, “Get out of there!” With each diaper added to the stack underneath her naked butt on the screen, Tina, watching the screen, felt a need to have more thickness between her legs too. She pulled the towel closer and, when that wasn’t enough, she grabbed a couple of cushions from the couch and sat on them, squeezing their softness between her legs. Anything to recreate the feeling. Her brain constantly demanding more. “Don’t forget the powder and cream!” Someone yelled out. “Ooh, yes, we wouldn’t want the baby to get a rash, would we?” Wendy said. She’d moved forwards and was giving an almost bird’s eye view of the action. Tina watched the television as cream was rubbed all over her intimate parts. She brought her hands up to her head in humiliation at what had been done to her. Then the powder was sprinkled liberally all over her crotch and the open diapers. They must’ve used half the container before they were satisfied. The first diaper was lifted up and taped into place. Then the second one followed. The third was a bit of a stretch but they managed to get it on the pliant woman shortly afterwards. With each new layer the Tina watching the screen squeezed the cushions more tightly between her legs. “Oh, we mustn’t forget… this.” Wendy said as the camera pointed down to show her going through her pocket. Tina saw a pacifier get pulled out. She felt her pulse quicken and, in response to just seeing the object she felt her mouth salivating. Drool leaked out of the corners of her mouth and down her chin as she stuck her thumb in her mouth, barely aware of her own actions. On the screen the freshly diapered Tina had the pacifier pressed between her lips to the delight of the onlookers. Tina squeezed the cushions between her legs tighter and sucked on her thumb. She hadn’t thought there would be any explanation for how she had woken up but now she had actually seen what had happened she was left stunned. She had never believed in hypnotising or anything like that but the evidence was right there in front of her, on the screen and still clearly effecting her strongly. “This is just the start of our fun.” Wendy said with a big smile as the camera turned to her face and focused slightly, “We’ve got quite some plans for you this afternoon.” --- If you enjoyed this and want to see the full 15,000+ word story RIGHT NOW you can do so at the following links. The full story contains more humiliation, more diapers and more lack of control! Thank you so much for supporting me and allowing me to do what I love ❤️ https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1481760 https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/m0uav3ey4z
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There's nothing like watching your little regress right before your eyes. Help them become your little one with our Sunshine Junction Adult Baby Daycare and newly updated Diaper Dependent Training 2.1 programs. Visit our new store, LilAgain, on Etsy, where both programs are 20% off for a limited time. https://www.etsy.com/shop/LilAgain?ref=shop-header-name&listing_id=1773884442&from_page=listing
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