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Deep in the archives of the FBI's Vault of records are cold cases, of which less than half are public record. A small portion of that considered cold and unconfirmed. Amongst these records is a sealed bag of a hand-written note in red crayon and a larger than normal baby bottle, thus the aptly named cold case 'The Message in the Baby Bottle'. Records indicate this bottle was discovered on 5/13/20 by a riverboat casino in Arkansas, but the message within was contaminated by the citizen who found it, opened it, and read it. Still, lab records note organic debris that could be found as north as Iowa or Illinois, so is the estimated origin point. This case has only been picked up by two agents since it was brought to the FBI. The first agent dismissed it as a joke, prank, dare, or musings of a bored teenager in COVID lockdown, and the case was recently picked up for review, who has recently amended the report with her findings. EVIDENCE #2: The Crayon Scribbles Please help. My name is Jake Borden. Two years ago, I was a month from graduation ... I had no plans and I was fine with that. I just wanted to be free of school for a little bit before I worried about my next school. In that month, one day, everything seemed fine at home but when I got to school, my classes had been shifted around to junior level. I was pointed back to my classes from the year before, to sit with younger students, and act like it was normal. My friends didn't see it as a weird and I thought... it was so prank. Maybe every senior had to go through this in the last month before graduation. So I shrugged it off, enjoyed the easy classes, and went about the rest of my day. Then it happened again. The next day, I was told I was in the wrong classroom and pointed to my sophomore teachers. No one else was getting this treatment so I figured... okay, it's me. It's a prank against me and I decided to be cool about it. I took the easy classes, laughed it off, and said the next day, I'd be in freshman classes, which I was right. All day, I grinned, joked, and enjoyed the ride. I thought at the end of that school day, I'd get a 'surprise' and explanation... but that didn't happen. Nothing happened. The day ended, everyone went home for the weekend, and I hoped by Monday, I'd get my answer. But it got worse. The next day, rather than walking to school, my mom said the bus was ready for me. I hadn't taken the bus since 8th grade. I'll admit... I should have thrown a fit there. I should have asked more questions, tried to figure out what was going on... but I thought this must be an organized prank or lesson by my parents. They weren't happy I hadn't applied to any colleges and had no plans, and they were punishing me with some elaborate, organized prank with my old teachers. I was stubborn and thought I'd show them. I'd love these classes, enjoy my time, and not feel whatever they were hoping I'd feel. I took the bus, joked around with these young idiots, swept through all of my classes with ease, and did it all with a grin. But no one at home seemed to care or be bothered. I told my parents I had a great day in 8th grade and they acted like it was normal. My little sister Shannon was even much the same, which I was initially impressed she could hold it together. Then the next day was 7th grade. It was probably here I started getting nervous. How far was this going to go? Was I going to take the same classes the next day with my sister in 6th grade? I tried asking questions, but my parents seemed confused... like I had never been in 8th grade at all, let alone the day before. My phone also disappeared and that sent me into a panic. All of my life was in that thing and it was just gone. I had a huge meltdown and mom let me stay home from school that day (called me in sick to the middle school). I thought maybe that would be the end of it. They'd give me my phone back, prank done, lesson learned. Nope. Next day, 6th grade. No one could rationalize why I was in the same grade as my sister when I was 18 and she was 12. But my mom gave me the weirdest look and told me straight to my face "you're both 12". Dead serious, no hint of a joke. I tried demanding my phone back, I tried walking to school, but dad put his foot down. He dragged me back to the car and drove me to the middle school, since I had missed the bus, and scolded me the entire drive like I was 12. I don't know what I should have done differently. I acted out, I wrote "I'M 18" on the chalkboards, on any handouts I got.. eventually I was sent to the nurse, who cleared me, and then given detention for the next day. I was scolded again at dinner for 'being a brat'. But I never got that detention. By the next day... I was back in elementary school. 5th grade. I relived puberty lessons and talked as if I hadn't gone through it. I was surrounded by 'friends' that were children, all acting like I belonged there and it was normal. I was in 4th grade by Friday and no one was listening to me. Every day, I was reliving ... I think the movie is called Groundhog's Day but like... worse. I kept repeating myself, having to explain to everyone that I was 18, I should be graduating high school this month, and I didn't belong in any of these classes. The reactions went from annoyed to concerned, and then when I really hit the lower grades, to mild amusement. Like I was some fucking kid making up a story to the adults. All weekend, having finished 4th grade on friday, I tried begging my parents to stop the lesson. I'd learned, I'd apply to college, I'd do whatever they want. I just wanted my life back. They laughed. They fucking laughed and said I had a ways to go before worrying about college. My bedtime was stupid early... earlier than my sister's and my bedroom was changing too. I had my older toys, bedsheets, pajamas... and no one acted like anything was wrong. All of my accounts were gone... I didn't have email anymore, no laptop, no way to reach out to my friends. So I biked to my closest friends house, Brad. When I got there, his mom acted like she didn't recognize me and when he came to the front door, he didn't either. He treated me like some kind of confused kid and when he got tired of my story, he shut the door in my face. My bike was chained up after that. I was 'bothering the neighbors' and grounded. Monday, third grade. Tuesday, second. Wednesday, first. Thursday, kindergarten. No one would listen to me. No one believed me. On Friday, I went to preschool and sat amongst a range of kids in pull ups, ate finger food, and every time I did anything that wasn't exactly obedient, I was 'throwing a tantrum'. I couldn't say anything that wasn't thrown in my face. Everyone was talking down to me... even my little sister. Everyone acted like I was a small child. Then on Monday... I woke up in a diaper, in a crib. My bedroom was now an oversized baby room. I had footie pajamas on, pacifiers everywhere, baby toys and baby decorations. There were no signs of my older life. I flipped out. I ripped the diaper off and started wrecking everything I could but dad quickly came in and held me down, like he was used to this. Mom came in and fixed everything she could. They were like.. experts at work. He put me up on the changing table and mom put me back in a diaper. I screamed. I cursed. I tried to kick, bite... but dad thwarted every attempt. I said every awful, hateful thing I could think of but none of it was landing for them. They acted like I was just... in a bad mood. They didn't even flinch at the swears, like I wasn't even saying them. I cried. I couldn't fight anymore and I bawled my eyes out, and that's when mom hugged me. She was so gentle, so sweet, and ... I feel asleep in her arms. That night, I fucking begged every god I could think of. I wanted out. I wanted this to stop. Was I going to keep reducing in age until I didn't exist anymore? I prayed, I cried, I begged. I asked over and over again for hours in my crib for it to stop. I said I'd do anything to make this stop. A week went by, and nothing changed. I didn't get treated older but I didn't blink out of existence. My life was now this. Diapers, bottles, naptime... repeat. It's been two years of this. No one understands me, and writing doesn't work. I can see what I wrote and I can see the words, but everyone else seems to see scribbles. I've noticed that most of my words seemed to be ignored except baby-like ones. Mom responds to 'mommy', same with dad, but not 'mom' or 'dad'. Shannon is 'sissy', bottles are 'ba-ba's, if I need a change and mom hasn't noticed, it's 'diapee'. I can't get out of this. Nothing I do works. None of my friends recognize me or acknowledge me. None of my teachers recognize me. Everyone talks to me like I'm some big baby. I'm stuck like this. I sometimes worry I shouldn't have asked for it to stop. I should have asked to have my old life back. I worry I asked for the process to stop too soon, and now I'm stuck. I don't know... I don't know how or why this happened. But if you can read this... like actually read this... Please fucking help me. CASE AMENDMENT 1.0 by Agent Catherine Green 10/18/25 Given the context clues of this note, I was able to track down a Jake Borden in Davenport, Iowa. Ahead of making contact with the family, I confirmed a sister named Shannon and a teenager that graduated in 2018 within reasonable biking distance of the Borden household named Brad. Mother is Courtney Borden, and father is Oscar Borden. I brought both the bottle and message to my interview, though over the phone I was met with a curious tone when asking if I could speak with Jake. When I arrived, it was clear why. As the message suggests, Jake is an adult in physique, but was dressed in an adult onesie and diaper. He was using a pacifier throughout the entire interview, though he did made attempts to remove it and speak throughout the process, it was incoherent baby-like babbling. Courtney and Oscar explained that Jake had a rare, yet unnamed genetic condition that renders his mind stuck as an infant, despite his body growing. They had no pictures or evidence of any schooling, which I can confirm in my research that there are no records of Jake Borden ever attending any schools. To the contrary, they had photos of him throughout the his 25 years of life, always in diapers. More strangely, when I showed the parents the note, they could not read it. They only saw red crayon scribbles. They confirmed they recognized the bottle as one they lost years ago, and apologized profusely for what they perceived as a waste of my time. I had no choice but to leave, though I will admit as I was leaving, I could have sworn I saw a look of despair from Jake. CASE AMENDMENT 1.1 by Agent Catherine Green 0/25/25 I looked into the genetic condition, as I couldn't shake that look on Jake's face when I left. Suspecting his parents were perhaps exhibiting some kind of Munchausen's by Proxy, I dug around to see what other instances I could find, and discovered the previous agent assigned to this case, whose name I can see on the paperwork, has this condition. But there is no record of him working here. I have come to realize this case has been left alone because most people cannot be the note. Like Courtney and Oscar Borden, this message is incoherent crayon scribbles to everyone I show it to. Additionally, I have noticed my colleagues have been treating me differently with each passing day. As if I am less experienced than the day before. Though I know this sounds completely foreign to assert as an experience Special Agent, I believe I may be experiencing a similar daily regression as Jake had. If this is true, I have days before my clearance is reduced and I can no longer access this file, and only a few more days beyond that before I will no longer be working here. Since this all began the moment I read this file and Jake's message, I must concluded I have been afflicted by it... somehow. I am marking this case as TOXIC and SUPERNATURAL, and recommending it to be sealed permanently. If you are reading this, I have likely failed to do so, and if you can read Jake's message... then I wish you good luck.

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Supernatural elements Witchcraft and spirtualism Female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death (or the beyond), illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Depictions of non-consent and other forced actions of a sexual or other type of encounters This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back. I know it’s only been a short time away, but I’m definitely excited for this story. I just fleshed out a lot more of it yesterday and today and I think I can weave a lot of fun into this one… which I guess is kind of the point with this story. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my last one and I’m glad I wrote it… but there was a lot of dark in there. Fun to write about sometimes, but it wears on the soul just a smidge after a while. Currently, the chapter count for this story stands at 16, so it’s also going to be a shorter one for sure as compared to my last few. I might flesh a few of them out, but with the way I designed it, it definitely won’t be the almost 30 that my last story was. Speaking of the future, as usual, the poll will be going up next chapter. Also, I’m going to still try and stick with my three chapters a week. This week will be a little off with another one like posted both Sunday and Monday (for a total of four). So, with that in mind, this story might only go until the end of November or the beginning of December. Some things are potentially on the horizon for me and could severely pinch my time though. If that happens, I’ll let you know, but this story should absolutely be completed before the end of the year. Thinking beyond that, I’ll talk more about that later when I know a few more details about my own life but expect there definitely to be a gap between this story and my next one. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: A Flickering and A Warmth The lights flicker all around. The air gets chilly and I pull up my fleece jacket to keep warm, my hands needing to stay still as I look into the dark hole before me. “Babe. Come on!” Frankie, my fiancé, pleads with me. “I’m freezing here! It’s March in Philly. I really shouldn’t be seeing my breath in my own house at this point. We live in the historic district sure, but… I don’t need that in my life at this point.” “Yeah, yeah… I hear you.” I switch on my flashlight to look inside the nook of the electrical panel. “I think there’s some old and faulty wiring back here. Probably messing with the heating and the lights.” The lights above me flicker incessantly and I need to shake my flashlight periodically to keep it lit so I can actually see what I’m doing. “You know… the whole historical thing you just had to have? Kind of a downside to it as well…” Frankie glares at me but then smiles in her typical scheming way that makes me go a little weak at the knees still. “Well… when we bought this place together, I thought I had a big strong handyman to fix all my needs. Guess I was wrong, huh? Shame too…” She pouts jokingly. I roll my eyes. “That’s not going to work on me… today,” I admit, knowing full-well how often her gorgeous and doe-like eyes have brought me low and turned me around on practically anything she wanted within reason. There’s a reason our bedroom has accent pillows… and that idea wasn’t from me. “No?” she questions slyly, slinking up to me while biting her lip. I feel myself giving way a little bit in light of her advance towards me. I know her scheme, but I also know that if she really wants, I’m just about powerless to stop her. “No…” I can already hear the little trepidation and breakdown of my former willpower in my voice. From her smile, Frankie hears it too. “Well… maybe you need some…” Her hands deftly trace over my body. “Incentive?” I nearly let out a little yelp as her graceful fingers send a shiver up my spine… definitely not helped by the colder temperatures inside. I shake my head though. “Yes… incentive.” I try to focus ahead, but Frankie doesn’t let up her little touches. “Frankie… I… I…” I think of spiders… zombies… pink bunnies… anything to keep me focused and off my fiancés increasing closeness and light but prominent touch over my body. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” she asks playfully, her knowing smile showing me just how much she knows this is affecting me and just how much she loves that. “Can’t concentrate?” I shake my head, trying desperately to focus on fixing the wiring. Finally, though, I find the problem. “Ah! Here it is!” I break free of Frankie and rush over to turn the power completely off. Everything goes dark and I hear a little creak from upstairs. “Babe!” Frankie calls out. “Warn me before you do that next time. You know how I am with this place in the dark!” I roll my eyes out of her sight, but she knows my feelings on why. “For the last time, Frankie… there’s no one else in this house. It just… creaks and groans is all. No boogeyman… no demons… no ghosts,” I note confidently coming back over to her to fix the wiring issue I found. She glares at me. “It’s a historical house, Liam,” she says, using my first name… never a good sign with her. “There are other things out there… more than from what we can see.” I shine the light and reach in with the circuit checker to ensure the power is actually off. “Right…” Frankie scoffs. “Well, fine. Be that way. But… you know Brandon and Carmen both agree with me as well,” she points out. “Both of them said they felt something in this place the last time they were here. And you heard the stories and…” I yank out the frayed wire with a grunt, cutting her off and sigh as I reach into my toolbox and pluck out another wire and the tools to reattach the circuit. “Okay… well, yeah. But Carmen thinks her vacuum cleaner is haunted and Brandon…” “Your college ‘brother from another mother?’ That one?” she questions, her annoyance over my disbelief and the fact that I always used to introduce him that way to her very clear now. I smirk and nod. “That’s right. But you know him…” I go in and reattach the wire, twisting the bits around and completing the circuit before backing out. “Ever since you and I introduced him to Carmen. Well… you know…” She doesn’t respond and I can’t tell if Frankie is playing dumb or she really doesn’t see it. Knowing her though, she’s probably just waiting for me to say it. So, I sigh. “He’s got a thing for her, babe.” Her knowing smile confirms my suspicions. “And that’s fine. He just… his opinion tends to agree with whatever she thinks.” Frankie’s smile fades and she sighs as well. “Yeah… I’ve seen that too. I just…” She shakes her head. “Never mind… just, are you going to give us power today… or do I need to start biking a turbine or something to turn on the TV instead?” I smile at her sarcasm and go back over to the electrical panel. “Alright… here we go!” I wince and flick on the main power switch. Humming to life, the house switches back on… this time without a flicker and an almost instant wave of heat from the vents. “Ah…” Frankie smiles like she does whenever she comes home and plops on the couch with a good book. “That’s more like it…” She luxuriates in the warmth for another moment and admires the flowers on the table she arranged for work before turning back towards me. “Thank you, sweetie. That’s much better. But…” She doesn’t have to say anymore, and I look at my watch. “Yeah… yep! Gotta change now to make our dinner reservation.” I nearly turn away to head upstairs to change but pause and then turn back towards Frankie. “Right?” I ask to confirm my guess. She chuckles a little at that before nodding her head. “That’s right. Can’t have you running around in that ratty old flannel to the best new pub in town!” She pauses for a second. “Oh! And while you’re up there, can you move the box of your old stuff from when you were a kid into the guest bedroom. You really need to sort that stuff out before it starts collecting dust!” I smile and nod with her request before heading up the stairs to change and now move the box. Before I’m completely out of view though, I turn back to look at my fiancé still at the bottom. “You know… it’s tough stuff from back then. Basically, my whole childhood. And it could be worth a mint someday, so…!” Looking back down the stairs that maybe she will budge on me getting rid of something, I just see an unamused Frankie with her hands on her hips and a skeptical look plastered all over her face. “Right… right. I got it. I’ll move it now and I promise to look through it tomorrow.” She says something else, this time with an amused smile, but this time it’s almost under her breath and by the time I see it, I’m more focused on getting ready. Knowing Frankie, finishing the task and then getting to the restaurant on time is more important than an acknowledgement of whatever she just said. Still, fifteen minutes later, I’m shaved, dressed, and I’ve made sure my hair is all nice and styled. Frankie appreciates those little details, and considering that tonight we’re going to be discussing wedding plans at dinner as well… I know she’s going to want to focus on them… rather than a potential missed spot when I was shaving. “Ready?” I ask, getting to the bottom step and seeing Frankie waiting by the door. She turns toward me and smiles wide. “Oh…” She gets a little flustered when I actually put effort into my appearance. She has her tricks and I have mine. “Yes! Yes. I…” She takes a breath and grabs the keys quickly. “Come on!” She barely turns back to see if I’m following her. ‘Oh, classic Frankie. Move onto the next thing to avoid the embarrassment of the now…’ I smirk and make sure to lock the door. Before I do though, I groan a little as I see another little flicker of the overhead light in the main hallway. For now, I decide not to tell Frankie… Ten minutes later, we’re heading out of the historical part of the city and the radio switches to a commercial I hadn’t heard before. “Scared? Intrigued? Just wanting to know more about the underground scene or what lurks beyond the covers and into the dark? Join us tonight to discuss this very matter. Releasing her book, ‘Understanding Your Kink,’ join Dr. Lauren Hutchinson and I tonight as we dive headfirst into...” I click the radio off and shake my head, being sure to pay attention to the street signs ahead for where we’re going. I then shift in my seat for a moment, trying to find the right spot to sit for the drive. “Geesh… almost feels weird to be driving, you know?” Frankie nods. “Yeah. Ever since we moved into the heart of the city, I can barely remember the last time I drove anywhere. Can walk to work and the grocery store…” “And Brandon and Carmen live so close…” I point out as well. “Seat kind of feels lumpy now.” I shift around uncomfortably as we cross the bridge to get on the main road up to where we need to go. “Probably just your imagination…” Frankie muses. “But babe… pay attention. You know this road can get a little tricky at these speeds at night.” I nod back and focus through my distance glasses for the exit I need to take. Most of the time I-76 is pretty choked with traffic, but tonight with the sun already set and a fog setting in, I think most people are avoiding it. “Pretty grim out here,” I note, keeping my eyes on the blurry road ahead. “Just pay attention and we’ll get there soon. It’s not too much farther north after the zoo,” she notes, her brain likely already calculating the exact moment we need to exit over to make our reservation on time. “But maybe turn on your high beams or something. I can barely see the road or who’s in front of us…” I nod and look down for a second to flick them on. I find the switch, having to reach my hand under the wheel a little and then look up. Right at a swerving car. “Babe look out!” Frankie screams, shielding her face from whatever might happen next. I try to swerve as well to avoid the now out of control car in front of us… but it’s too late. We’re both going too fast on the curve of the road to avoid each other. He spins right into the front of my car… spinning us away and right into a nearby traffic sign, right side first. Glass shatters and metal bends and snaps. I feel the weight of the world shove against my side and the pain as my right arm slams into the middle console between the seats. Airbags deploy right on impact and quickly deflate as smoke and the fog settle around us and twist around my broken vehicle. The world bleary already, I look around with squinted eyes to survey the damage. I know I’m not supposed to after an accident, and it even hurts a little… but I turn to my right to see the one thing that really matters to me. “Frankie?” No answer except the faint sound of a little dripping. “Frankie!” I shout, a little more panic in my voice now… but still no answer… no movement. * * * The phone rings once… a second time… and even a third. I ignore it each time, laying out on my couch, the curtains drawn close and the house quiet except for the creak of the frame as the wind rattles it from the outside… the Fall season definitely approaching. The machine in the other room beeps. “Hey bro… it’s me, but I guess you probably already know that…” Brandon says with a sigh from his phone. “Listen… I know being roommates in college and all, a lot of the times that means being each other’s wingman or helping hide the booze our freshman year or celebrating a new job or whatever… but we’ve been through a lot together. Being my ‘brother from another mother’ and all… well, it also means that we’re here for each other in the tough times as well. Frankie… well, I know how much she means to you still. So, uh… yeah. Just give me a call, okay? Stay tough, bro.” The machine clicks off. I roll over on the couch and momentarily wince over my still sore wrist. I came away from the crash with a pin in my wrist still, and Frankie… I shake my head and pick up the picture frame with the photo of Frankie in it I took almost a year ago now at a local Fall festival. She was so happy that day… we were so happy. Now… The phone rings once… a second time… and a third yet again. I still ignore it and let it go to the machine. ‘Come on, Brandon… Take the hint. You’re a friend… the best one I have, but… I just want to be left alone…’ I sigh and await the oncoming message trying to get me to leave the house once again… only it’s not from Brandon this time. The machine beeped. “Liam… pick up the phone. Pick up the phone.” There’s a heavy sigh at the other end of the line, and I can already hear the disappointment in Carmen’s voice. “I feel that you’re there and listening to me, Liam, but… please call me back no matter what. It’s been six months since the funeral. I miss her too. Our little flower shop… it just doesn’t feel the same without her…” They were very close before I came into the picture. She’s a friend, but she was always closer to Frankie. I still thanked her for the lasagnas she gave me after the funeral, but… since then, I just kind of want to forget everything… “Please call me, Liam. I… I miss you. I miss her! Just… please call me back. I’m worried about you. Brandon’s worried about you. We don’t even have to do anything fun if you don’t want to. Just talk, okay?” I hear her desperation, and I do feel a little bad for her. In one stupid accident on the road, she lost her business partner and closest friend… but I just can’t bring myself to move from my spot and answer her. “Alright, Liam. I understand. Just call me back. Please…” The machine clicks off. I look deep into the photo of Frankie. She was so happy that day. I almost gave the photo to her parents when they came around to pick up some of her stuff. I gave them almost everything else I had of hers. It just didn’t feel right to keep it all. They were family… they were her parents. Now though, I just have the frame and a few of the things that I gave her and that her parents insisted on me keeping. Barely a whisper of memory now in this empty house… “Frankie…” I paw at the front of the photo and feel the tears come once again. I’m tired of tears, and I swear I would have run out by now… but my sadness just never seems to end whenever I think about her too much in one stretch. Lately though, that just feels like all the time. I still do my job. I still feed myself. Frankie would want that for me at least… but everything else? I just can’t find it in myself to celebrate. The last time I tried… Fourth of July… Brandon and Carmen were supportive that night, but I just couldn’t move on without thinking of Frankie. How she loved the bar we all went to. How her hand felt in mine when we watched the fireworks the year before. Or the smell of hotdogs… something she always gagged at before guzzling down two in a second. All her little quirks and things that made her who she was… who I still love, even the boom and sparkle of the fireworks overhead couldn’t distract me enough from that… I sigh and look back at her photo. “I miss you Frankie… if only I could see you… one last time… I… I could really use someone to talk to like you. Someone with an open mind and who won’t judge me…” Suddenly, I feel like an electric shock runs through my body. My hair stands up on my neck, and I almost feel like I’m being lifted off the couch for a second before I feel an incredible warmth envelops me. Not hot like a sunny day at the beach, but like the rays of sunlight that filter through your window on a Sunday afternoon or a snuggly blanket. I can’t help but smile and lower the picture frame for a second. “Maybe it’s a sign from the universe or…” Looking ahead, right in front of me is a translucent blue figure… a ghost. “Holy…!” I bolt up and clutch the picture in front of me like a shield against an evil monster. ‘But it can’t be a ghost, right? Ghosts aren’t real… are they?’ I chatter at the floating figure seemingly staring back at me. Instead of turning into some ghoul or trying to scream and frighten me away though, the pale see-through figure only hovers before me for a moment. Oddly, beyond my initial shock, I feel only peace. I should be terrified of this thing… this spirit. It shouldn’t exist and I should be running for the hills or to call the ghostbusters or for an exorcist… but I don’t. The figure, mostly just an outline and rough shapes of a body, then reaches out towards me. As I look down, I see the spectral hand come close to the picture I’m clutching. “Something you want from me? Frankie, maybe?” I ask referencing the photo in the frame. To my surprise, the spectral figure bobs along… almost as if nodding. Intrigued about this sudden turn, everything in my head that I previously though… all my denial and skepticism, suddenly seems so foolish. As I look ahead at the ghostly presence, the doubt I once had vanishes in a flash. ‘If I’m to believe in ghosts… then… could this… I mean, could this really be Frankie? They nodded when I said her name. So… is it…? Could it really be my Frankie?’ The thought feels like a fool’s hope… but I haven’t had a scrap of any kind of hope since I last saw Frankie in the car, and even this little bit right now is enough to drive butterflies into my belly in a feeling I needed lately. So, shakily, hoping beyond measure, I stand up and reach out to the figure. “F… Frankie… is that you?” Just as I’m about to make contact with the entity who just seemingly nodded at the picture of my dead fiancé, they vanish. “No!” I try to reach out, as if I could cling tight to them… but they’re gone completely before I can even twirl a figure around any part of their being. Seconds later, the warm feeling I had vanishes as well. “Frankie…” My fool’s hope sits sourly in my stomach for a moment. The potential of seeing my fiancé again… Frankie, just feels like too much… but I then I realize one critical thing. “Holy shit! They vanished, but… ghosts! Frankie! I… I…” I feel lightheaded from the mere possibilities of what I just witnessed. A ghost! I just saw a real life ghost! ‘This could change everything!’ I nearly hop up and down and do a little dance… but as I look around my room at the heaps of junks and dust and liquor bottles piled in the sink, I realize a critical fact: if I’m going to be telling anyone about this, I might not be the most reliable resource. Doubt begins to snake around my mind wickedly. It’s a negative quality that Frankie always tried to help me with. In this case though, it only makes me cautious. And in a single moment of clarity, my eyes dash to my phone to exercise that caution. Running over, I pick it up and think of the first person to get over here and check if I’ve lost my marbles or not. “Carmen? Yes, yes. Listen… can you come over?” I look back at the spot where I just saw the spectral form of Frankie… or at least I hope I did. “Yeah… today.” Two hours later, I hear the knock at my door that my heart has been beating for since I last laid down my phone. Gathering my strength, shaving, cleaning, and just zoning myself in, everything is ready. As I open the door, I just hope I don’t make a complete fool of myself. “Hey you two!” I greet my two friends cheerily. “Hey… bud,” Brandon says nervously as he enters the house first, quickly looking around as if I’m about to prank or murder him on the spot. “Hey… Liam,” Carmen says, looking just as concerned as Brandon still is. “I was kind of surprised to get your message.” She steps in but in typical Carmen fashion, nearly snaps back to me as I close the door. “Pleasantly surprised that is! I just…” She pauses and looks around the house as well… almost like a parent visiting their kid and making sure that everything is okay. “Well… you weren’t answering either of our messages and… well, we were kind of worried about you…” I wince a little at the worry I know I caused them. “Yeah… sorry about that. I just… well, you know…” “Yeah, man,” Brandon says quickly wrapping his arm around me. “We do. Which is why we want to take you out drinking tonight. Our treat, okay? Get out of this place and maybe clear your hea…” “Okay, okay. I accept!” I say exasperatedly. A drink actually does sound pretty nice, especially after what I just saw today… but I need to show my friends about it first. I need to make sure that my brain isn’t going completely nuts or whatever. Either way… a drink would be good if I was, or if I really did see what I saw… a drink is definitely going to be needed. “We can absolutely do that,” I confirm before taking a breath, “but I need you all to see something first. Or not!” I wince and shrink back a little, guiding them into the family room where I saw the ghost of Frankie before. “I… well…” I hate how badly I’m stumbling at my words, but I know I just need to push through my nerves and just get it out there. “I think I saw a ghost of Frankie!” There’s dead silence for a moment as both my friends just stare at me with a mixed look of confusion and concern. I sigh. “Yeah, yeah… I know how it sounds…” Carmen winces and seems to be trying to go for a diplomatic approach to her words. “I mean… what do you… mean by that? To be honest, Liam, it kind of sounds like you’re…” “Like you’re nuts!” Brandon finishes for her, much to her angry glare afterward. “I know losing Frankie hit hard. She was a real keeper, man, but… she died, Liam. And…” “And there’s things we don’t understand…” Carmen pops back in, “But this… this is…” “I get it, okay?” I admit with a sigh. “Just… I saw something earlier today, so will you two just indulge me this once?” I still see both of their concerns. It’s nice to know I have them in my corner and to see their concern for me… but I need to be sure about this and for them to have a little patience. “Okay, fine… if nothing happens after five minutes, take me for a drink and get me to forget this ever happened, okay?” Both nod and I take my place on the couch right where I was, before I begin to murmur out a single word. “Frankie… Frankie…” Five minutes later and we’re still nowhere. I thought I felt warmth about three minutes ago now, but it seems like it might have just been a faint breeze filtering in from the vents after Carmen moved to sit down as well. “Dang it!” I slap my lap and hop up. “Liam…” I hear Carmen’s concern, but I just focus on the spot where I saw Frankie’s ghost. “That’s five minutes, man…” Brandon notes somberly, almost as if he was really hoping for my sake that Frankie’s ghost would have shown up. “I just… I don’t understand!” I sigh and it takes everything in me not to spit on the ground or punch a pillow or just yell in pure frustration. “I was sitting right here!” I plop back down on the couch. “And I took her picture frame, and I was holding it and wishing she would be back here.” I try to move the picture frame up, down, left, right… but still nothing. “Liam…” Carmen steps a little closer, her eyes full of worry about me. “Maybe you just wanted to see something. I mean, I’m the first in for this type of thing, but… maybe you just need some sleep… Wouldn’t be such a bad idea, right?” “Yeah, man,” Brandon agrees. “Maybe you just head to bed. We can drink together another night. Tonight…” I shake my head. “No, no! I just… one more minute, please!” I look back down at the object in my hands. “I was holding this frame and then… poof! She was here!” I clutch the frame closely and shut my eyes about as tight as they can go. “Come on Frankie. Come on!” I bite down and focus on the floor before squeezing my eyes, starting to rock back and forth with her picture clutched against my chest. “Please… please… I need you… I need you…” Suddenly, I feel the warmth I felt earlier surrounding me. It fills me up to my fingertips, a longing and a comfort I haven’t felt since Frankie last hugged me. It’s pleasant in a way that I didn’t realize how much I missed it, and I sigh in contentment now that I feel it again. I don’t even need to look up to see what’s transpiring. “What the…?” Brandon stumbles back and clutches the couch at the reappeared spectral figure in front of us now. “Aye!” Carmen plummets to her knees and begins praying. “San Miguel Arcángel, defiéndenos en la lucha. Sé nuestro amparo contra la perversidad y acechanzas del demonio. Reprímale, Dios…” “I told you!” I get up and reach out to the pale blue form in front of me. This time though, the figures’ hands are able to touch mine like one would stick their fingers through a sunbeam. The feeling of warmth intensifies all around, and I feel like electricity is passing through me. “It’s her! It’s got to be her!” “It… it can’t be!” Brandon, the usual skeptic of the group, except when Carmen’s involved with an opinion that is, seems to be struggling just to stay upright in the ghost’s presence. I slap him on the shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you? It’s her! It’s Frankie!” By now, Carmen has finished her prayer, and while she looks like a stiff breeze could knock her over as she stands up warily, she still seems mostly overjoyed to see the ghost. Only a second later though, she lights up. “Oh! It is! It is her! Look!” Her finger points to the figures’ head. “It has her hair. Her nose!” Sure enough, as I look closer at the spectral form, I begin to see all kinds of details I hadn’t before. The image beyond the blue sheen of the mist surrounding it is still hard to fully make out, but beyond all that, there’s a face. There’s hair and clothing. I strain to see more and I step forward. But the figure fades… almost as if a huge weight was just placed on her back. In seconds, she’s gone. “Frankie!” I shout out, once again trying to hold her hand to keep her in the room with us… but it’s no use. Moments later, even the warm feeling is gone yet again. “Dang it! That’s the second time today!” “But… but… it can’t be!” Brandon stumbles out. “But it is!” Carmen counters. “It was her. I…” She turns to me, her face full of wonder and regret. “I’m so sorry I doubted you, Liam. That… that was her! A ghost! I can’t believe it!” “Yeah… I mean… holy shit, dude!” Brandon says, his usual demeanor seeming to come back a little more now. “I mean… that was her. Had to be! Ghostbusters, Poltergeist, voodoo, hocus pocus, haunted mansion level stuff right here! And… damn it!” He looks around for a second. “No camera!” I smile at his usual antics but then I turn to Carmen. “Frankie always said you believed in this stuff. I’m… I’m kind of out of my depth right now. I mean… what just happened?” Carmen winces. “Well… I don’t know. Belief is one thing, but this? This is proof that we all saw. This… this doesn’t just happen. I mean… I wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.” “So, we’re screwed and just limited to these short little interactions?” I ask, my hope seemingly deflating a little on the spot. To my relief though, Carmen shakes her head, her braided black and blonde streaked ponytail flipping about behind her. “I don’t think so. Spirits, from what I’ve ever read about at least, are energy or something like it. Takes an effort for them to stay here… at least without a conduit.” “Conduit?” Brandon asks, a little skeptical but definitely intrigued as well. “Yes,” Carmen confirms. “We need a medium or psychic… someone like that. They channel the energy, and you see the ghost… feel their presence.” I catch on to what she’s trying to imply… or at least I think I do. “Wait… you’re talking about a séance, aren’t you?” Carmen smiles and nods. “That’s right! And…” She pauses and hesitates for a moment. “Uh, I guess if we’re putting all our cards on the table… I tried to do one for Frankie already.” “Wait… you did?” Brandon asks, sympathy and shock laced deeply in his voice. Carmen sighs. “I did. Spring hit and I saw all the flowers… reminded me too much of Frankie. I was desperate and sad and…” She shakes her head again. “So, I reached out to someone I heard about mainly. Came into the shop a few times, but Frankie always dealt with her orders…” “And…?” I press, hoping there’s more to the story. “And we couldn’t make contact,” she notes with a sigh as she then fishes in her purse for something. “She gave the session to me for free. Said Frankie might have moved on, or I just didn’t have the connection required to make contact. Since it came to nothing, I didn’t want to bring it up.” Pulling a single white rectangular object from her purse, she looks at me intently before sighing once more. “Now… well, I guess you do though…” I look at the card skeptically for a second. “I don’t know… Maybe I’m just…” “Hey man… maybe take a leap of faith here,” Brandon shockingly suggests, breaking me from my own self-criticism. “You’re always about the proof of things. And well, I don’t think you’re going to get more than whatever we just saw.” Carmen nods. “And… do this for me as well… do it for Frankie.” Not even blinking then she then hands over the card she plucked from her purse. “Please just try, for us, okay?” I nod and take the card. “Okay… for you… for Frankie…” The next day, I look back at the card and then up at the sign on the old brick building in front of me. Not even that far away from where I live, ‘Madame Gwendolyn’s Shop of Curiosities’ stands out only slightly on the lively block of Philadelphia. I think Frankie came over here once to get an anniversary gift for me, and if I remember correctly from back then, it was definitely a nice night… but I don’t come down here that often personally. Brandon and Carmen both wanted to come with me today, but I told them both that I needed to do this myself. I felt compelled to venture this solo today… I needed to see all this for myself. The typical skeptic and the believer are good most days… but not in this one case. But as I look ahead, the shop seems nice enough. There’s some odd symbols I don’t recognize, and a sign that mentions ‘FCC and MC Welcome Inside,’ which seems a little strange to me… but I just push on inside, a little bell ringing as I do so. Almost immediately, before any other object catches my eye, I see a tall, dark-haired, and admittedly beautiful woman behind the counter. As soon as I step in, she smiles at me and waves. “Evening, darling. What can I do for you?”

Well, I know I have some other works that I need to really get done, but this little idea popped into my head last night, and it wouldn't go away until I wrote a chapter for it. So, here's The Infant's Guide to Reaching Purgatory~ Some things to note before we get started: Firstly, the content warnings are very real. Pay attention to the tags before you jump in and read. If it's not for you, you are absolutely not obligated to read, and that's perfectly okay. Secondly, this is not meant as a religion-bashing story, and I will not make it one. I am not religious in the slightest myself (and some of the things that the characters say do not reflect my beliefs), but I respect all creeds. It's just that this story is set in hell, for the very most part. No, it's not a Hellaverse fic: just a babyfur story that happens to be set in a different sort of hell. Finally, it is a very short prologue, and I apologize for not being able to get back into the swing of things in my other stories. I just needed to write something down and post it. 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. Now, without further delay, let's get into this story: - Prologue - “What do you MEAN, ‘I’m going to Hell’?!” The female red wolf had all but screamed those words, lashing her tail to-and-fro, nude as the day she was born (to her utmost dismay as she continued to cover herself with her paws and tail as best as she could; the angels said that earthly clothes couldn’t be taken to the afterlife), standing on the clouds that made up the surface of whatever judgment chambers there were in Heaven. Fuck, even the walls and ceiling were covered in clouds. She was utterly incensed. How dare these fucking self-righteous hypocrites say she was damned?! What did they know about her life?! What did they know about her?! The swan-winged figure looked at her coldly. Gender and species were impossible to identify with the angel’s robes, the heavenly halo shining upon its masked face. “Violet Valencia Bailey,” the voice intoned, neither male nor female. “Please don’t make this as drawn out as it could be. You’ve been judged by your actions and sins, and-” “I WANNA KNOW WHY!” Violet snarled furiously. “Please don’t interrupt me when I’m talking. You know why. Your last actions literally spelled it out.” “Unless you think suicide is a sin all of a sudden?” the red wolf huffed, wishing she had something, anything, really, to cover her body. Even a towel would be nice… “I’d say brutally murdering your husband in cold blood gets-” “YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID TO ME, IF YOU’RE SO FUCKING ALL POWERFUL-” “Please do not interrupt me, and please do not curse. His actions were detestable. Yours are inexcusable, and you don’t even have the good grace to admit it.” “Bullshit! I did what any sane woman would’ve done to a fucking bastard like him!” “Please stop curs-” “Make me!” “Don’t - interrupt me - again.” “Make me! You’re not my parents!” “And thank the Lord Almighty I’m not. You’re acting like a petulant child.” “Fuck off, chickenwing! If you’re going to send me down to Hell anyway, when I don’t deserve it, you’re goddamned right I’m gonna chew your ass out!” The masked figure sighed and pulled out an odd circular object that Violet assumed was a phone of some kind (and it sucked that she couldn’t bring her phone with her to the afterlife. Seriously, the afterlife could go screw itself, at this point.). “We have a Code Sunshine, repeat, Code Sunshine,” the figure said in a bored tone. The red wolf was suddenly confused. “Sunshine?” she asked. “It means you’re getting what you’ve rightfully earned,” the angelic figure said, and Violet could practically hear the smug smile on their face that she knew they were hiding behind their mask. “It’s been a while since this code was used. You might want to give us some entertainment.” “Entertainment? The fuck are you talking about?! You sick fucks like to watch animals get tortured, don’t you?!” “You’ll see what happens. I bet you last a week before you’re begging for Lucifer’s deepest, darkest pits. Or three days before she has you right where she wants you.” “Huh?” Violet felt herself sinking through the clouds, and she howled in distress - she hated heights, hated them, hated them, hated them - before her entire body slipped through, and she began to freefall through the air, her spirit plummeting to earth as she continued screaming in terror, flailing for any purchase where there was none, her soul dropping like a stone. She saw the ground fly up to meet her, and she held her paws out to protect her face, awaiting the crash. Only she didn’t crash; the second Violet’s spirit hit the ground, she began to sink through the inky black, like she was going into water in the night. Her arms and legs were forced up to her chin, tail curled around her waist, as if she was a fetus again, her body compacting from the pressure. “OH?” a masculine voice rang out, sounding very amused. “So, you managed to anger an Archangel enough for them to request a Code Sunshine. Can I have your name?” “Who the fuck are you?” Violet snapped, her voice sounding oddly tiny for a fully-grown she-wolf. “Are you some demon who’s gonna try to torture me, asshole?” “Well, I can certainly see why they requested it.” The voice was still amused. “Let me see…what is your crime…oh, right here, they texted it to me. Heaven can be so kind in those cases…” “Who the fuck are you?!” the red wolf repeated furiously. “Ahem, Violet Valencia Bailey the red wolf, you brutally murdered your husband, Dirk Arnold Stauss the Tapanuli orangutan, with a shotgun…multiple shots before he was finally killed-” “Shut up!” Violet snarled, baring her fangs, wishing for the millionth time that she wasn’t naked. The demon continued as if she had never spoken, “-then committed suicide after the murder-” “SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Violet screamed into the inky blackness, her voice as loud and forceful as a puppy’s. "-aborted his potential children without his knowledge in the past, refusing them a life when you had other options-" "GOD DAMN YOU, GO SUCK YOUR FUCKING DICK!" “And you had arguments with him as well,” the voice finished with a thunderous ending in his tone, far more powerful than hers. “Do you deny any of this?” The red wolf was shaking, her fur bristling with rage. “Does anyone realize why I did this?! Do you even fucking CARE, you unfair piece of shit?!" “Fairness in Hell? Do not make me scoff. He is damned as well; there is your 'fairness'. The difference between this man and you are that he did not act childishly when confronted with his wrongdoings. He freely admitted his sins, boasted that he was proud of them, despite knowing very well they were wrong; he is facing his eternal punishment as we speak. Deep down, I think you do know you were not in the right either. What is the saying, ‘two wrongs do not make a right?’” “Shut up! You don’t know shit about me!” The voice sighed. “I cannot continue this conversation with someone so immature. I will leave you to the Grand Duchess, Astaroth. May this be the last time we meet.” “What?” Violet felt a burning charge go through her soul, trillions upon trillions of times both hotter and colder than she had ever felt in her twenty-five years of life on earth, unable to even scream out her pain in response - and after the charge lanced through every part of her that remained, her conscious thoughts slipped into darkness. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Long long long time reader, first time posting my stuff. I have very short stories of little scenes here and there. Here is my newest one. The formatting won’t be the best. ———————— Captives Two woman and a man sat restrained to their chairs. Each with a gag in their mouth, muffled screams can be heard echoing in the tiny room in which they were captive. White walls all around, it was a boring room. 2 doors on either side of the captives adorned the walls. The one they were dragged into, and a mysterious door. Soft bells could be heard if you listened closely. Twisting and turning, each captive struggled to get free, muffled cries crafted a cacophony of struggle. Suddenly, the door that was not used before opened. The sounds stopped as the click clack of heels pierced the silence. A giantess of a woman stepped through the door and the captives froze. Never before had they seen such an entrancing figure. A tight black dress hugged her curvy body, her breasts voluptuous and firm, she walked in a way that let you know: she was in charge. The silence was broken by a maternal, yet teasing voice: “Hellooooooo little ones!” She smiles a devious smile. The captives were not ammused by the sing songy voice of their captor. “Looks like you have explored the wrong facility. We caught you on camera about a mile before you got to our gates” The blood rushed out of their faces. They didn‘t expect anything here. Rumors spoke of an old abandoned building in the forest that played soft lullaby music. They say those that go in never come out…. but they all assumed it was a childrens tale… until now. Each chair was on wheels, so one by one they were wheeled into the next room. The struggling stopped, replaced by fear of what would happen next. The next room looked like a preschool classroom. Rectangular with waist high shelves of coloring books, toys and stuffed animals. Along the back right half of the wall, there was a rectangular window with a door to the right of it. Above the door was a sign: INITIATION In the window was a table with a screen above it As if she felt the mood change to confusion, the Mistress explained: “This will be out first stop. Initiation. You see, this is a special facility. Meant to take you back to a simpler time.” She chuckles as she scans the three captives Blonde had heard enough. She didn’t want to be part of any sort of cult. She struggled harder against her restraints. “But i won’t bore you with the details. You..” she turns her full attention to Blonde as the struggle gets more intense. The other two started to struggle a little more. “Look like you are VERY excited to get started. Why don’t we start with you” Blonde shook her head in fear. She pushed against her restraints to no avail as she was wheeled into the initiation room. The door slammed shut, leaving the other two waiting. The room blonde found herself in looked much like a medical examining room, complete with the table. Before she could examine anything else her restraints let loose. She immediately tried to book it for the door, but was swiftly picked up by the armpits. “Ah ah ahhhh.. you can’t go that way little one! I know you miss your friends but you’ll see them soon enough.” The Mistress carried blonde over to the table and effortlessly retrained her to the table. Her clothes were fully removed. Naked and gagged, she was helpless to do anything. The Mistress then did something Blonde didn’t expect: She removed the gag. “YOU BITCH LET ME GO” she screamed The Mistress just ignored her and started to press some buttons on a panel. The screen lit up. “Please watch the entirety of the video while I prepare you” “Prepare me for what?!” The blonde screamed. The screen started to change colors, grabbing the attention of Blonde. The mistress said something but she couldn’t quite hear her. The colors changed from blue to green and to pink. Blonde couldn’t take her eyes away. Suddenly she felt her butt being lifted up. Something soft cushioned it as it came back down. It felt nice. Blondes thoughts were hazy. She tried to remember how she got here, but it was all dark and gray. Suddenly, her head started to hurt. She screamed in agony as her mind became a bright white light. She felt wetness coming from her crotch…:was she peeing herself? The wetness seemed to be contained around her crotch. Warmth. Her screamed echo’d as the colors changed faster, her eyes wide open. Pain, agony, fear. “AHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PLEAASSSSEEEE STOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHAAA……” The screaming stopped as something entered her mouth. “There there little one” the Mistress coo’d. “Go ahead and suck on your pacifier” The feeling was almost instant. Her brain went from white to shiny colors. Her screams died down into wails. That of a baby. [[pretty…. Colors…. Playtime!!]] Blonde started to giggle as her mind emptied. Everything started to empty. She squirmed and giggled as her diaper filled with the excrements of her old life. “Such a good girl!” The mistress adored. She patted the front of blondes diaper and removed the restraints. Blonde stayed there, giggling and babbling “AH! AH AH AH AH!” She babbled on, as the mistress gathered changing supplies. ———- The door to the initiation room slammed shut and the window suddenly became a mirror. Screams could be heard from the room shortly after but the two remaining captives couldn’t tell what they were about. A soft lullaby played over the speakers. The remaining two sat there, pacified by the music, unable to move or think. The door opens. The Mistress walks out, holding blonde against her bussoms. Walking toward the other side of the room, the mistress places Blonde on the ground with a soft thump and a crinkle. The two captives see Blonde, drooling with a paci, and fear runs down their spine. A muffled cry “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER” and slamming of feet. Blonde, naked except a diaper and a pacifier, rolled back onto her back and started playing with her feet. Tears streamed down Browns face. Her best friend. Her sister… transformed into a dumb drooling baby. “YOUR TURN!” The mistress exclaims from behind her. Her chair is jolted forward towards the room. She screams behind her gag, shaking her head. “No no no noooooooooo!!!!” On the table, easily restrained like the other, Brown finds herself ungagged. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?? I’m NOT A BABY!!” Mistress chuckles to herself as she presses a few buttons. The screen jumps to life and Browns attention is immediately drawn. “Please….” She whispers, drowsily… “I DON’T …” She screams in pain. Her brain goes white. The diaper is slipped under her with ease as a stream of urine spurts out. Browns struggles ease as the diaper is pulled between her legs and taped. “Noooooo…..” Brown started to whine. “Nooo die-peeeeeee” she started to wail as she kicked her legs. The mistress pulls out another pacifier and shoves it in browns mouth. [[huh?]] Was her last adult thought. Her brain starts to see the flashing colors in front of the screen. She started to calm down. “Gah gah gaaaahahhhhhhhhhh hehehehehe” Brown was lost. Her bowels and bladder emptied into her diaper, as well as her adulthood. “Such a good girl” the mistress said, grabbing the changing supplies —————- The door to the initiation room opened to giggles as Brown was carried out! “SEE! “ the mistress exclaimed with a chuckle,” that wasn’t so bad was it?” She plops Brown next to Blonde, who moved over to the dolls and was now brushing one. Brown crawls over and grabs her own doll. Silver was in shock. His two best friends sat before him, naked and in diapers, acting like nothing in the world was wrong. He had to escape…. He saw the mistress catch his eye and he growled. “Uh ohhhh” the mistress chuckled taking her gaze a little lower. Looks like someone had an accident. Confused, Silver looked down. His pants were soaked. [[wait… what… when did i?]] “Looks like SOMEONE really enjoyed his lullaby.” He blushed and started to whimper. Who was this lady? She walks over to him and kneels down to his level. “I have something special for you little one” she said, not breaking eye contact.” She undid his restraints. [[RUN]] his brain thought Only his body didn’t cooperate. The gag was then removed. He wanted to scream. He wanted to bite… but he couldn’t. No matter how hard he told his body to do something, it wouldn’t. “Good boy.” She said as she grabbed his hand. “What are you doing to meee” Silver asked, childishly. “You see, that lullaby you heard has some special properties” she started to explain as she placed a mat on the ground. She the knelt down and started undoing his belt. Silver whines but couldn’t do much else” “Noo stoooop” “Now now young man. You had an accident! We have to get you in proper attire if you are gonna be doing THAT!” She yanked down his pants and underwear in one fell swoop, emphasizing the word at the end of her sentence. His arms wanted to cover his crotch, but he found his hand instinctively move toward his face. His thumb found it’s way into his mouth. “I’m nottah bah bae” he mumbled behind his thumb. The mistress had him step out of his pants. A cold wipe was applied around his crotch and buttocks. “If you aren’t a baby…” the mistress lectured as she cleaned the man off “ then why didn’t you use the big boy potty when you were supposed to?” He knew the answer [[because you had me tied up you bitch]] he thought But his mouth just said “i dunnoooo” “That’s what i thought” the mistress said, pushing on his chest. Silver fell onto his back with a thud. His legs immediately sprawling out. He tried to get up, he fought with ever ounce of his being. But nothing happened. “So we are just gonna have to put you back in diapers!” Mistress exlaimed, causing the two regressed women to giggle. They crawled and mad their way to Silver, plopping down next to him. His face was flush with red heat as his entire legs were hoisted into the air, a thick baby blue diaper was slid under silver. His legs came down and kicked only slightly. “The mistress grabbed a white container and started to sprinkle powder on Silvers crotch.” It was around this point he started to hear the lullaby again, but he wasn’t sure id it was in his head or the speakers. Rubbing his crotch, silver let out a slight giggle. “Hehe that tickles, mommy!” He heard himself say, involuntarily. [[MOMMY? No… i gotta fight…]] The diaper was brought up between his legs and taped tightly into place. Silver was back in diapers. “Now, i have a special treat for you little one” she leaned silver up. He swayed groggily on his padded butt, his thumb falling from his mouth. Drool started to form at the corners. [[AHH COME ON MOVE GOD DAMIT]] he thought “Now, i know you appear to be all cute and obedient on the outside.” She said as she tugged on the front if her dress, pulling out one of her massive boobs. “But i know on the inside….”she taps his forehead “..:You need some adjusting” His mouth hicced a little as he saw her boob come out. [[Come on come on…. Get up GET UP]] He felt the drool fall down his chin, his eyes affixed on her breast. It was getting closer, although he wasn’t sure if he was being guided or moving on his own. He found himself cradled in her lap. “Now go ahead and take some of mommies milk” she said as she thrust her nipple into the drooly mouth. [[Nooooo… please no… not this…. ]] he thought as the pieces fell in place. She was gonna breastfeed him. involuntarily, silver latched. Milk immediately filled his mouth. His first thought was [[oh?]] It was tasty. He swallowed and it was like something in him grew. [[ oh man it’s so much… what’s happening to me?]] His thoughts started to fade. His memories were going grey. His stomach was filling with milk. [[…. No… i have to… ]]] he immediately thought about punching the woman in the face. For the first time in a while his arm moved on hismown accord, but stopped short when his hand grabbed the boob. [[ what was i doing?]] *Suck* *suck* *swallow* [[ i wanna go home.]] *suck* *suck* *swallow* [[oh god… i have to… NO!!!!!]] . The sound of his diaper being filled erupted in the room. He greedily started sucking more [[MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY KOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY]] Silver started to coo. His mind lost. All three adults now sat in the playroom, slowly filled up with the Mistresses milk, sending them into eternal regression. Never to be seen again.

Anna and Ryan are living life as best they can when blackballed from society. Things take an unexpected turn when there is a knock at the door. --- I'm only able to write as much as I do thanks to the amazing support of my readers. Writing is my only income and I appreciate everyone who reads my stories more than you all can imagine. If you enjoy my stories and want to see updates a week before everyone else PLUS read 35+ stories only available on my membership sites please have a look at the links below. All support is very gratefully accepted ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- A quick recap of the first story for anyone who needs it: Anna was left stranded in Sallas after her parents were killed in a car crash. Sallas is a place of extreme misogyny, that treats women as little more than babies and servants. Anna was adopted to a Sallasian couple and forced to grow up in this society, but she has always hated it and is desperate to escape. Forcibly married to Ryan, Anna's future seemed decidedly unpleasant as she joined him at college, not to attend classes, but as his trophy wife. That all changed when Ryan revealed that he hates Sallas as much as she does, and that he doesn't want to treat her badly. They tried to navigate college together, living as equally as they could at home whilst subjected to the extreme pressures to conform. Anna meets a friend, Jane, who is in a much worse marriage than her. Anna desperately wants to help Jane, but her options are severely limited. When Jane's husband gets tired of her, he has her sent away to Finishing School, something which devastates Anna who knows she will never see her friend again. Eventually it proved too much. Ryan was forced to choose between sending Anna to "Finishing School" (little more than a torturous prison) or being expelled from college and giving up his dreams of working in business. Ryan chose Anna. The two left college together with little idea as to where their lives will go... --- Sallas 2: The Gilded Cage By Elfy Anna was strapped to a pink plastic chair. Between her lips was a pacifier so large it filled her mouth and a strap going around her head held it firmly in place. She had the thickest diaper she had ever seen around her waist and the pink baby dress did nothing to hide it. Around her were a dozen other women similarly stuck in place and similarly dressed. She struggled but found movement difficult with such a huge amount of thickness between her legs. The room was filled with the muffled sounds of struggle and the smell of used diapers. Anna recoiled when she looked around at her neighbours before realising, she looked just as bad as they did it. Projected on to a screen in front of them all was a video. It was like a business training video but was showing the women in the playpen what they were supposed to be. A film of women doing domestic chores, shopping and being properly respectful of the men around them, In between frames Anna occasionally noticed a flash of a word, but she could never quite make out what it said. Made to look like a nursery the room felt like a strange bastardisation of a place that you would send your child. This nursery looked exactly like a child’s daycare at first look, but the longer you spent in there the more you noticed its true reason to exist. The uniformed guards by the doors, the cameras in each corner of the room, the books not being classic nursery rhymes but instruction manuals on how to do chores… Anna pulled harder against the restraints. As she stared at the video playing in front of her, she tried to remember how long she had been there. It felt like forever. Time had lost all meaning. Maybe she had simply always been there. Anna’s head lulled forwards slightly but the endlessly repeating images continued to appear in her mind. She tried to force them away, but they had a hold of her, they seemed to grab her head like tentacles as they pulled themselves closer and spread like a cancer. Her resistance became weaker as the words flashing up in the film became clearer. “Baby.” “Maid.” “Useless.” “Need Man.” Inside her head the last vestiges of who she once had been screamed but like water rushing through a cracked dam the words spread. Anna felt herself losing control of her bladder as if she had never been potty trained. The warmth spreading through her padding as the words cycled endlessly in her brain. All around her Anna could see the previously squirming women sitting docile as the guards walked up to each one with an injection. “No…” Anna mumbled around the pacifier. Suddenly it wasn’t a guard holding the needle. Anna turned and saw Jane standing before her in one of the guard uniforms, it bulged out around her waist from the hefty diaper underneath. Anna’s old friend stared at her with dead eyes and a flat emotionless face. “You left me…” Jane said as the needle was moved towards her arm, “You could’ve saved me.” Anna shook her head. The words were seeping in and her resistance crumbled completely. As the needle went into her arm and Jane pressed the plunger Anna screamed hopelessly. “Anna!” Anna was being shaken, and she sat up so fast she nearly butted heads with Ryan. She could feel that she was covered with sweat and was breathing hard. She instinctively grabbed her arm where the needle had been, there was nothing there. She took a few deep breaths and felt a familiar shameful wetness between her legs. “The nightmare again?” Ryan asked as she placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Anna nodded before letting out a sob. Ryan pulled her closer to his shoulder as she cried softly. It had been a recurring nightmare for a while now. No matter how many times she ended up in that “Finishing School” it never felt any less real. It was stupid, she didn’t even know what the inside of one of those institutions actually looked like, her brain was just filling in the blanks with every horror it could conceive of. She felt Ryan pulling the cover back and revealing the wet patch on the bed. Anna had wet herself. “It’s OK.” Ryan whispered in Anna’s ear, “You’re safe.” “I’m sorry.” Anna said as she pulled away and wiped her eyes. “You don’t have to apologise.” Ryan replied, “You’re fine.” “I mean, I’m sorry for…” Anna gestured down to the wet patch. “Don’t worry about it.” Ryan smiled sleepily, “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll change the sheets.” Anna slipped out of bed. She was naked as she stood up and the floorboard underneath her feet creaked loudly. The space between the bed and the wall was cramped meaning she had to awkwardly sidle out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the bathroom. The apartment was small, old and, despite Anna’s best efforts, falling apart. The wallpaper Anna walked past was peeling, one of the windows was boarded up and she had to step around crack in the floor that seemed to threaten to fall through at the slightest hint of weight. In the bathroom Anna pulled on a long string that was hanging from the ceiling, the lightbulb flickered to life. The water heater for the building was broken so the water in the shower never warmed up. Anna shivered as she stepped under the showerhead. She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible so she quickly soaped herself up and rinsed herself off. She couldn’t shake the image of Jane from her head. Not long before Anna and Ryan had made their quick exit from the college Ryan had been attending, Jane had experienced an altogether less voluntary withdrawal. The closest person to a friend Anna had ever had, Jane had displeased her husband who had promptly sent her away to Finishing School. Anna had no idea what had happened to her but could guess it wasn’t good. People who went into those places were often not seen again, and those that re-appeared were unrecognisable to their old selves, and to their families. It had been ten months since they had moved into the apartment building. It had been the cheapest place that Ryan and Anna could find and even then was at the upper limit of what they could afford. After they left the college in disgrace, they knew they were going to be outcasts but perhaps they had underestimated just how bad things could be. Ryan had immediately started looking for work, but he had been blacklisted from even most menial jobs, even a cursory background search on him would’ve found black marks that made employers run away, things like “Dissident” and “Suspicious Individual.” All because he’d had the gall to not want to treat Anna like a second-class citizen. Things had become desperate before Ryan found a job in a call centre; it was the only place that would give him a chance. The money he was paid was only just enough to afford rent and bills, even food had become a bit of an extravagance. Despite the difficulties Ryan and Anna had remained close. In fact, they may have become closer than ever before in spite of the hardships they faced. The problem was that love can only get a person so far, the truth was they were desperately struggling with no support network and in a place with no safety net. There was no sign that things would get better either as both of their families had been quick to disown them. The worst part for Anna was the way Ryan was very clearly being crushed. His spirit and soul seemed to be ebbing away and every time he came home from work, he would look that bit more miserable. Anna found herself wondering if it hadn’t all been a terrible mistake, she sometimes wondered if Ryan resented her and wished he had chosen differently. After all, this was all because of her. If Ryan had sent her away, he would be an executive on his way to the top rather than stuck at the bottom living in a cold flat and eating the cheapest food. “Damn it.” Anna muttered as shivered into her towel after her shower. The nightmares were awful and happened twice a week or so. She had never been to the dreaded Finishing School so her mind was conjuring up something that may not even have existed. The worst part for Anna was the effect it had on her bladder. Having been potty trained so recently she usually didn’t have too many problems as long as a toilet was nearby, but wetting the bed was a common result of her bad dreams. Ryan hadn’t brought up wearing “protection” to bed, but she knew he must be thinking about it, they couldn’t exactly afford to replace their mattress. Diapers were something she was only too used to, having only recently been able to get out of them she dreaded having to go back for any reason whatsoever. Anna knew she wasn’t going to get any more sleep. She slipped on her dressing gown and walked through to the living room. The flat was a lot smaller than the place they had stayed in at college and the living room was the best example of this lack of space. An old television was against the far wall, a wooden table with a bent leg in the middle of the room and just beyond that a couch that had numerous holes in it. Anna sat on the couch and flicked on the television. The morning news was on. The problem with the news in Sallas was that it was nearly impossible to tell what was real or fake, the propaganda was so rife that seeing through it became very difficult. The presenter was excitedly telling his audience about Sallas’s economy doing well and suggesting it was because there weren’t any “distractions” in the workforce. “Distractions” was clearly a code word for women as they showed short clips from various office and factories extolling the virtues of their society. Anna could only roll her eyes. It was all so transparent, she found it hard to believe anyone fell for their crap. In any other country Anna would be in one of those offices or laboratories. She knew she was smart but at no point had any of that intelligence been nurtured, she had never been given the opportunity to show what she could do. She never would get that chance either, not whilst she was where she was, when she was who she was. She tried not to dwell on her lost potential, but it was difficult. Anna went over to the drawers in the corner and retrieved a tattered old book. She brought it back to the couch and opened the frayed cover. There she looked at herself from long ago, back before her parents had died, leaving her stranded in the hell that was Sallas. She thought she looked a lot like her mother, but she had her father’s eyes for sure. Her photo album of her as a baby was practically all that had survived the car crash that had killed her parents. She remembered so little about them. “… And finally, a reminder of this morning’s big story.” The newscaster said as Anna turned the page, “A number of civil disruptions around the country last night forced the police to crackdown on some undesirables and dissenters. A spokesman for the government said the ringleaders had been rounded up and that there is no cause for alarm.” Anna changed the channel. There was a morning talk show on one of the more rabidly pro-government channels. A man was practically frothing at the mouth as he ranted and raved that women were still too free. Anna shook her head, to some men in Sallas the very idea that a woman might have an independent thought was enough to send them into an apoplectic rage. “… I’m telling you they will be the downfall of us all!” The balding pudgy man said. His spit flew across the table as he angrily dropped his fist against the surface. “Whilst I agree any idea of, pardon my language, feminism, is abhorrent to our society I’m not sure what you would like the government to do…” A more professional looking man replied. His suit was wrinkle-free, and he didn’t have a single hair out of place. The so-called “moderate.” “For a start we could make Finishing School mandatory.” The angry man replied, “Get these girls out of the school system and teach what they really need to know early. Stamp out these ridi-” Anna changed the channel. Whilst she was used to hearing men attacking women for every ill in society the ideas being expressed on that show were just too horrifying to think about. Finishing School was essentially a prison designed to brainwash women into being good little girls, it was currently used as punishment for women that didn’t conform perfectly, the idea of sending all females there made Anna shudder. The next channel was for children. To be more accurate it was for little boys. Anna watched as two puppets talked to a group of little boys sitting in front of them. “And a girl, even an itty-bitty little girl the same age as you…” The puppet dog’s paw pointed at the children in front of him. He had a deep authoritative voice and was the face of one of the most popular children’s brands in Sallas, “Can be a very a dangerous thing.” “But how can an itty-bitty little girl be dangerous?” The second puppet seemed modelled on a mouse. He spoke with a back-country twang to his voice that Anna supposed was to make him sound less intelligent. “Because they are naughty.” The dog puppet replied seriously, “They are always looking for ways to get boys in trouble. It’s why it’s important for all you little boys to…” “Report bad behaviour!” The children all chorused. “That’s right!” The puppet dog nodded, “To your Daddies, teachers, or local govern-…” Anna turned the television off. She laid down on the cushions of the couch with her head resting against the arm. She hadn’t planned to drift off but suddenly came to when she heard Ryan’s footsteps coming down the hallway. He paused at the entrance to the living room for a second before heading into the kitchen. The sun was just starting to rise giving the sky outside a red glow. Anna sat up and stretched as Ryan came walking back in with two mugs of coffee. “I’ve got some eggs and bacon cooking.” Ryan said as he put the mugs down on the table. “Shouldn’t you be watching it?” Anna asked as she yawned, “You could start a fire.” “In this place?” Ryan shrugged, “Could be an improvement.” Anna laughed as she picked up her drink. It tasted cheap, which of course it was. Unlike when they were supported by Ryan’s parents, they couldn’t afford to spend much on luxuries. The cheapest store-brand instant coffee was still pushing the boat out for them. Soon they were sitting in the living room eating their breakfast. They didn’t really have a lot to talk about, but Anna was happy in the silence. If anything was brought up, she felt sure it would be her nightmare and what had happened as a result of it. The silence was much better than that particular conversation. “I suppose I should get ready.” Ryan sighed as he stood up. Anna did the washing up whilst Ryan had a quick shower and then got dressed in his suit. He came into the kitchen where the married couple shared a little kiss before he broke away with a smile, his hand came up and cupped Anna’s cheek. They had been getting a little more intimate since leaving college, they certainly hadn’t jumped straight into bed with one another, but they were becoming more romantic over time. It was just hard for Anna to let herself get carried away, part of her was still waiting for the penny to drop and for Ryan to send her away so he could get on with a much better life than the one he had with her. It was nonsense, of course, Ryan had been given plenty of opportunities to give Anna up and had never done so. “I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.” Ryan said, “Do we need anything for dinner?” “I think we’re alright for tonight.” Anna replied. It was slightly ironic that Anna and Ryan had been ostracised from society because of their resistance to Sallas’s extreme gender roles because now, in some small ways, they found themselves conforming to them. Whilst Ryan worked Anna looked after the home which meant doing most of the cooking and cleaning. It only seemed fair that she help out since Ryan had to work so much, and as difficult as it was for Ryan to find his job, it would’ve been impossible for Anna. “I’ll see you later.” Ryan sighed and tried to put on a brave smile. “Have a good day.” Anna replied. “You too.” Ryan’s smile was a bit more genuine now. Just as Ryan was turning to head to the front door there was a loud knock followed by the ringing of a doorbell. Ryan froze in his tracks. Anna hurried forwards and peered around the doorframe as if expecting to see something other than the front door. There were many reasons for Ryan and Anna to be nervous. They kept to themselves, not many people would associate with people that had been labelled as undesirables and those that would weren’t people Anna wanted to know. Neither of them had made any friends of acquaintances in the area so the fact there was someone at the door filled them both with dread. “Did you pay the rent?” Anna whispered to Ryan. “We’re only one month behind…” Ryan muttered in reply, “Jean doesn’t normally start knocking unless it’s three months.” “Then who is it?” Anna hissed. Ryan shrugged at her and then they both turned to the door. There were more bangs and insistent rings of the bell. Whoever it was, they were fairly insistent that they were going to be coming in sooner rather than later. “W-Who is it?” Ryan called from the safety of the kitchen doorway. “Open the door, Mr. Manning.” A deep voice replied. “Not unless you tell me what you want.” Ryan called back. “How about you open the door before we get impatient.” The voice replied. Anna tried to hold Ryan back as he went to step forwards. He turned to face her and shrugged, he was right, there was nowhere for them to run or hide. They didn’t know who was at the door, but it seemed like they were going to come in one way or another. Anna followed Ryan out but stayed several steps behind. Ryan opened the door, and Anna could see two men in suits on the other side. They pushed past Ryan and walked in as if they owned the place. Anna didn’t like the way they looked at her and smiled. Ryan closed the door as the two walked into the living room. Anna was tensed up, she didn’t know why these people were there, but she was ready to fight for her life if she needed to. “You see, Jimmy, didn’t I tell you she was beautiful.” The man doing the talking had snow white hair. His small nose seemed almost swallowed by his glasses that did little to hide a pair of very piercing eyes. “That you did.” Replied the younger of the two men. He was chewing gum and was leering at Anna. “Who are you?” Ryan asked. “Jimmy.” The older man said with a dismissive wave, “But you can call me Mr. Sawyer.” Anna watched as the intruder present a piece of paper to Ryan. As he did so the older man sat down on the couch. He waited a few seconds whilst Ryan looked over the paper, in the meantime the younger man walked over to Jimmy, who Anna suspected was his boss, and stood next to him. The whole time Ryan was reading neither of the intruders took their eyes off Anna. “I don’t think I understand…” Ryan finally said as he looked up with a frown, “What is this?” “That.” Mr. Sawyer said without turning from Anna, “Is a contract.” --- If you want to see what happens next RIGHT NOW you can do so at one of the following links. Thank you, and all support is very gratefully received: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/mf967rdsf7db10/chapter/mfjaqi124bff3c1 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2066849

Harper crossed her legs and glanced around the therapy office with one eyebrow raised. “Is it just me, or does this place look like it belongs in a Montessori catalog?” Pastel blue walls. No desk, just a soft white rug, three beanbag chairs, and shelves stacked with plush animals, board books, and oversized blocks labeled Patience, Listening, and Soft Touch. Dylan shrugged, sinking into one of the beanbags. His knees spread instinctively, until Harper cleared her throat and shot him a look. “Don’t manspread in therapy,” she hissed. He closed his legs like a scolded child. The door opened, and in walked a woman with silky, graying curls, a high-neck cream blouse, and a clipboard in her hand. She smiled, warm but unreadable. “Good afternoon,” she said. “I’m Dr. Cleo Harrow, clinical sexologist and developmental intimacy specialist, but since we’re going to be working closely, I prefer something simpler.” She sat delicately on the beanbag across from them. “You can call me Mommy.” Dylan blinked. Harper coughed. “I—I’m sorry, what?” Harper asked. “Mommy,” she said again, warmly. “All of my clients do. It helps set the tone for re-conditioning.” Harper narrowed her eyes. “We thought this was going to be… you know… adult relationship work. Fixing our sex life. Not—” “Harper,” Mommy Cleo said gently, “when was the last time you let someone touch you without bracing for disappointment?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Just turned the page on her clipboard. “And both of you, when was the last time intimacy felt like something other than work, or worse… obligation?” Harper glanced at Dylan, while Dylan looked down as if the floor suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. Mommy Cleo smiled, not cruelly, just knowingly. “Exactly. That’s why you’re here. So don’t question the means to the end you both claim to want.” She opened the cabinet behind her, soft fabric rustled. “Let’s begin the assessment.” Cleo began with soft questions, typical, even. “How long had they been together? How often were they intimate? What did they feel when they touched each other?” But the more they answered, the more the questions veered. “When you get overwhelmed, Harper, do you shut down or lash out?” “Dylan, would you say you require prompting to act on desire?” “If I gave you both coloring books and a timed task chart, would you find that comforting or condescending?” Ten minutes in, Harper was fidgeting. Dylan was blushing. “Based on your dynamic,” Mommy Cleo said at last, “I’m diagnosing a shared state of arrested erotic development.” “A…what now?” Harper said flatly. “You’ve both regressed emotionally, Harper yours is into avoidance, Dylan into appeasement. You’re functionally incompatible with adult intimacy.” She rose and opened a cabinet behind her. “Which means we don’t move forward with toys, talk therapy, or role reversal games.” She turned, holding up two folded onesies. “We move backwards.” The fabric was pastel. One was pink with “Crybaby 1” stitched across the chest. The other was lavender, ruffled at the shoulders, labeled “Crybaby 2.” “Absolutely not,” Harper said. “I don’t wear pink,” Dylan muttered. “You don’t wear pants either,” Cleo replied calmly. “Not until you’re evaluated for emotional readiness.” She pulled open another drawer and revealed two fluffy white diapers. Printed. Thick. One had little red hearts and pacifiers. The other had cartoon bows and the word sissy in script. Harper blinked, and Dylan swallowed. “You’re free to leave at any time,” Mommy Cleo said sweetly. “But if you stay, you’ll surrender adult privileges for the duration of your therapeutic contract.” “What does that mean?” Dylan asked. “It means no unsupervised bathroom access, no adult language, and no orgasms. Until you earn them.” She smiled as she noted lastly, “And we’ll be locking that away shortly.” Harper stood, arms crossed, staring down at the onesie labeled “Crybaby 1.” “It’s a metaphor, right?” she asked. “Like… symbolic?” Mommy Cleo was crouched beside Dylan, gently taping him into the cartoon-printed diaper with practiced precision. “No, sweetheart. It’s corrective. You’re not being punished, you’re being relieved of responsibility. Adult roles haven’t worked for either of you. So we’re giving your nervous systems what they’ve been craving: safety, containment, surrender.” Dylan whimpered softly as the final tape pressed into place. Mommy Cleo patted the front of his diaper with clinical detachment. “Still dry. Good girl.” Harper blinked. “Did you just—?” “Yes,” Cleo said. “From now on, Dylan will go by Delilah.” “I didn’t agree to that,” he muttered, pink rising in his face. “Exactly,” Cleo replied calmly. “That’s why you’re here.” Dylan shut up after that, he didn’t fight the name, there was really no fight in his to begin with, but something inside him folded. Not with fear, but with the sickening, silent click of inevitability of “Delilah”. It slid over his old name like paint over rotted wood, stripping not just his masculinity, but his history. The worst part? He began to crave seeing how far it would go. The nursery room was shockingly cozy. Two large adult-size cribs sat side by side. Between them, a padded changing bench and a pastel highchair built for two. The walls were lavender and cream, decorated with decals of clouds, moons, and a giant stenciled phrase: “Littles Thrive Under Love & Structure.” Harper hesitated at the threshold. “Is this a sex dungeon disguised as a daycare?” she muttered. “It’s a re-attachment space,” Cleo said, pulling a pair of matching rompers from a drawer. “You’ll be sharing a crib tonight, and every night, until I deem you emotionally differentiated enough to sleep apart.” “What does that even mean?” “It means,” Cleo said, gently pressing the pink romper into her arms, “you still flinch when he touches you, and he still apologizes before every sentence. You’re not partners. You’re co-dependent toddlers with adult resentment.” Delilah stood awkwardly by the changing table, blushing, fidgeting, the diaper crinkling loudly with every shift. Cleo looked at Harper. “Now, do you want to dress her, or shall I?” Harper stared at her boyfriend, no, her diapered… baby sister, and something flickered. Amusement? Power? Maybe even a flicker of curiosity. “I’ll… I’ll do it,” she said. The romper was pale pink with puffed sleeves and a little white heart on the chest that read “Mommy’s Softest Girl.” Harper slipped it over Delilah’s head with practiced ease. She zipped it in the back and pulled the tail of it snug over the thick diaper, patting her partner’s crinkled rear with a mock-smile. Delilah squirmed. “It’s tight…” “You’ll adjust,” Harper said. “Babies don’t complain. Right, Mommy?” Cleo beamed. “Excellent instinct.” Delilah stood awkwardly in her pink romper, head bowed, hands folded over her crinkly diaper, standing between them, his diaper thick, romper zipped, name tag swinging, Delilah felt like a mannequin for their shared undoing of him. Harper adjusted the puffed sleeve while Mommy Cleo smoothed the rump. Their eyes didn’t just see him, they studied him, admired the damage. Every flick of their gaze erased another piece of the man he used to be. Harper finally zipped her up, patted her padded rear, and even smirked, but the satisfaction had faded fast because now, Cleo was holding the other romper. Blue with a frilly pink collar. “Crybaby 1” stitched across the chest in looping baby script. “This one’s yours,” Mommy said, already unzipping the back. Harper didn’t move. “I can do it myself.” But Cleo was already circling behind her. “No, sweetheart, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You keep insisting on doing it all yourself, even when your body’s begging to be helped.” Harper opened her mouth to protest, but the zipper was already gliding down her back. The cool air hit her skin as then hands, gentle and practiced, slid the romper up her legs, over her hips, and snugly over her chest. Cleo adjusted the collar like she was prepping a preschooler for picture day. “There,” Mommy murmured. “Such a brave little girl, letting someone else take over.” Harper swallowed.The fabric was soft, infantile and too snug in the thighs. The collar tickled her neck. She had dressed Delilah without flinching, but now, standing still while Mommy dressed her in return… she felt her throat tighten. Cleo zipped her up slowly. “Regression isn’t weakness. It’s a return to the body, and your body, Harper, has been starved for surrender.” A name tag clicked onto her collar, “Crybaby 1: Harper,” Delilah peeked up at her, eyes wide, and for the first time in weeks, she saw her partner looking at her with something like awe. Once dressed, the two of them stood side by side, identical from the neck down, two padded, flustered, color-coded littles. Mommy clipped name tags onto their collars: “Crybaby 1: Harper” and “Crybaby 2: Delilah.” Then she sat on the changing bench and crossed her legs, clipboard in hand. “Now,” she said. “Before we proceed to feeding hour, we’re going to work on sensate reconditioning.” She looked at Harper. “You’ve internalized withdrawal as protection, from this point forward, I want you to replace it with dominance.” Harper blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” “You’re going to ride her.” Delilah’s eyes widened. “I—ride?” “In your diapers,” Cleo said, as if explaining a yoga pose. “Fully clothed, You’ll sit on her lap, face-to-face, and rock gently while maintaining eye contact. It’s called synchronized regulation. Originally developed for skin-to-skin contact in premature infants. In your case, we’re adapting it to reintroduce pleasure, presence, and a sense of power.” Delilah let out a shaky breath. Harper looked down at her padded hips. “But I—” “There’s no need for direct stimulation,” Cleo said calmly. “That’s not what this is about. It’s about presence layered over surrender, feeling closeness, and the quiet weight of your decision resting on him. He needs to feel that you’re here, that you’ve chosen to lead, and more than that, you need to believe it too.” The crib creaked as Harper climbed in. Delilah lay back, nervous, clutching a plush bunny Cleo had handed her “to fidget with.” Harper straddled him, sitting carefully, the crinkle of both diapers loud in the silence as their eyes met. Harper rolled her hips slowly. The friction was soft. The pressure between them thickened. Delilah whimpered, but didn’t look away. “Say something nice,” Cleo instructed. Harper exhaled. “You look… cute like this.” Delilah blushed. “You feel… safe.” Cleo wrote something on her clipboard and smiled,“We’re getting somewhere.” The nursery had gone quiet except for the soft mechanical hum of the bottle warmer and the rhythmic crinkle of movement on padded floors. Harper and Delilah were close, closer than they had in weeks. Except weeks ago they weren't dressed, collared, labeled “Crybaby 1” and “Crybaby 2.” Their onesies brushed at the seams, and Delilah’s padded hips pressed a little too eagerly against Harper’s. It wasn’t intentional, or maybe it was. Either way, the air between them felt charged. Harper narrowed her eyes. “You’re pushing it.” Delilah’s lips parted, as his eyes flicked down toward where their bodies had touched, just for a second too long and something gleamed in them, shame, need, a flicker of something far more vulnerable. “Still trying to make it about you, little one?” Mommy Cleo towered above both of them, seeing larger than life. Like a goddess was descending as her hand reached down to inspect Deliah. “I wasn’t—” Delilah murmured. “You’re not in trouble, sweetheart,” she said, voice as soft as it was certain. “But you do need a gentle reminder of your role. This is about trust, about letting go, not just for you, but for both of you.” From a velvet-lined pouch, Cleo retrieved something small and blush-pink, glossy like a toy but serious in its intent. The chastity cage gleamed under the nursery lights. Delilah’s breath hitched as the front of his onesie and diaper were unfastened. Cleo worked with clinical ease, fitting the device into place, her fingers were practiced, patient. “There,” she murmured with a satisfied smile. “That’s better. Much more fitting for a delicate clitty like yours.” Harper flinched, not from shock, but from something deeper. Desire? Envy? She watched her boyfriend, now baby sister, lower her head, lips trembling. There was no resistance. Just a quiet inhale and a distant look in his eyes, like he was already fading into the role being shaped for him. Harper’s thighs pressed together, and there was something wrong about how much she liked how this look suited him, and yet, she didn’t just want to join in the power play, she wanted to feel it too. To lose and to win, to kneel beside Delilah one moment, then press her heel to the floor the next. Her chest tightened with longing and pride. Cleo stood tall, the nursery light catching the tiny pink key between her fingers. “This,” she said, “belongs to you now.” Harper’s breath caught. “Me?” “You’ve proven yourself. She—” Cleo’s eyes flicked to Delilah, curled up on the plush mat, cheeks still flushed, “needs someone steady. Someone who can model obedience and hold control in the same palm.” Cleo didn’t wait. She stepped close and slowly tucked the key down the front of Harper’s onesie, pressing it just below the navel. “You’ll keep it here,” she said, palm flat, her voice dipping low. “Right where it belongs, close and warm.” Harper’s knees weakened at the word. Delilah’s gaze followed every motion, wide-eyed, chin trembling. Cleo turned Harper gently by the shoulders, so she was facing her fully. “You want to show her how surrender looks?” Harper nodded. “Then you go first.” Mommy Cleo said as hands gentle but insistent, unbuttoned Harper’s onesie, exposing the pale skin of her belly and the soft bulge of her diaper. She pressed a kiss to Harper’s navel, right where the key rested, then trailed her lips lower, over the crinkly plastic. “Such a good girl,” Cleo murmured, her voice thick with affection. “My little leader.” Harper whimpered, her hips bucking slightly. Cleo slid a hand between Harper’s thighs, cupping the heat of her pussy through the diaper. She could feel how wet Harper was already. “You like this, don’t you?” Cleo teased. “Being my special girl?” Harper nodded frantically, her eyes wide and pleading. Cleo smiled and began to rub slow circles over Harper’s clit through the diaper. The friction was maddeningly soft, but it was enough to make Harper moan and writhe beneath her touch. Delilah watched from across the room, his heart pounding in her chest. He felt a strange mix of arousal and jealousy as he watched Cleo pleasure Harper. He wanted to be the one making those noises, wanted to feel Cleo’s hands on his own body. But he also knew that this was what he needed, so he watched like a good little baby sister as Cleo continued to tease Harper, whispering filthy things in her ear and praising her for being such a good girl. He watched as Harper came undone beneath Cleo’s touch, crying out as she reached climax. Afterward, Harper sat cross-legged, dazed but glowing, the key still nestled against her. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hair clung to her forehead. “Well done, little leader,” Mommy Cleo whispered, tilting Delilah’s head. Harper hadn’t expected it to feel like this. Not power., not exactly. That would’ve been clean, tight and hot, like snapping a leash. This was slower, muddied, and each moment sank deeper into her skin, until she couldn’t tell if she was acting or becoming. “I’m the one in the blue onesie”, she kept thinking, while grinding. “I’m the one labeled Crybaby 1. I'm, first, I’m number one, my needs come first.” Across the nursery, Delilah was now curled up beside a plush unicorn on the padded mat, staring at the rotating mobile above with a far-off gaze. His thumb hovered near his mouth, not quite touching, almost though as Delilah felt different too, a tightening and pulling. Every tickle of ruffle, every pat on his thickly padded butt, every time Mommy or Harper called him, “good girl” after they climaxed in front of him, he felt humiliated but also just… littleness. One that left him pink and helpless and hot. “Feeding hour,” Mommy Cleo announced, her voice lilting like a pre-recorded daycare jingle. She patted a large adult-size highchair built for two. “Front and center, Crybabies.” Harper obeyed first, then Delilah. The seat was padded vinyl, sticky under their thighs. Their diapers crinkled in stereo as they shifted. Crinkle crinkle. Cleo locked the tray in place with a click. She set down two sippy cups, one with apple juice, the other with a thick, off-white shake, and two bowls of bright pink mush. Harper stared at the shake. “What’s in it?” “Lactose-heavy nutrition blend,” Cleo said sweetly. “With a natural bowel softener. Nothing aggressive. Just enough to ease the tension.” Harper looked at Delilah, and Delilah, again, looked down at his bowl like it was the most interesting thing in the world. A tiny gurgle from his tummy broke the silence. Grrooorrrgl. Mommy handed Harper a spoon and motioned toward Delilah’s bowl. “Remember your assignment: regulated dominance. Feed her, and keep her eyes on yours., and even when she starts to squirm, don’t stop.” Delilah whimpered. “I can feed myself…” “Too bad, sweetheart,” Cleo said. “Big girls don’t get to speak once they’ve been renamed.” Harper dipped the spoon, lifted it, and guided the warm pink goop toward her baby sister’s mouth. “Open up, princess.” Delilah hesitated, his blush reached his ears but he opened. The first bite went down slow, then the next, and the next, as his legs started to twitch under the tray, the diaper crinkling louder with each squirm. “Harper,” Cleo murmured, “press your thigh against hers.” She did and Delilah gasped. “I—I need to—” Pppfrrrrrrt. A soft fart slipped out, muffled by layers of padding. Cleo didn’t blink. “Good girl. Keep feeding.” Harper held the next spoonful steady. Delilah’s voice cracked. “Please, I think I’m—” Hssssssssssss. The sound of wetness filled the highchair as his bladder gave out. Harper’s eyes widened, and Delilah trembled under her wide-eyed gaze. “Oh my god,” Harper whispered. Delilah whimpered. “It’s warm…” Mommy’s voice was cool, clinical. “That’s your body learning it no longer belongs to you.” They sat in silence for a moment, but then it happened. Pppprrrbbbtttt. Squelch. Psssshhhh… Harper didn’t need a psychology degree to recognize what was happening. Delilah’s face crumpled, and he grabbed the sides of the chair. His whole body hunched forward, straining. The room filled with a pungent, unmistakable scent. Mommy Cleo didn’t flinch. “Let her finish. This is pushies time.” Harper whispered, “You’re really doing this?” Delilah’s voice was a cracked moan. “I couldn’t hold it…” He finished with one last humiliated grunt, and his diaper squished audibly beneath him. Harper couldn’t look away. Her stomach turned, and twisted with something darker, and the tiniest flicker of arousal, buried in dominance and disbelief. Cleo leaned in. “Now ask for a change.” Delilah sobbed. “Please…” “Louder.” “Please, Mommy, I made pushies… I need a change…” “Not yet,” Cleo said, standing. “You’ll stay in it until Harper earns her first wet star.” “W-what does that mean?” Harper asked, throat tight. “You’ll know,” Cleo said, walking out with her clipboard in hand. “The moment you’re ready to stop being his girlfriend… and start being my little baby girl.” The sound of the door clicking created a sense of finality to their situation as Cleo left the room. The silence after the door closed felt padded, too., like it soaked up all the air in the nursery. Delilah whimpered softly beside Harper, shifting in the muck of hia own diaper. Squish. Crinkle. Squish again. The scent lingered, heavy and warm, curling under Harper’s nose and into her thoughts. She’d seen it all happen, heard it, even, but her brain hadn’t caught up. Her thigh still pressed against Delilah’s, tacky with sweat and guilt and something else. Harper sat still. Her spoon trembled in her grip. She’d just made her baby sister mess himself, and had made him hold eye contact through the shame of it. She should feel horrified. She did. But also… “I’m the one in the blue onesie,” Harper thought again. “I’m Crybaby 1. I’m first.” Delilah was still panting, the flush on his face deepening as he rocked gently, the sounds beneath him now squelchy. Harper stared, then reached into her diaper until she found the key. The key was covered in the remains of the a different mess she’d made earlier, it was covered in her cum and warmth for the interaction. Her fingers closed around it slowly. Delilah noticed. “I…” he whimpered, voice cracking, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Harper stood, and she stepped out from the highchair, her diaper crinkling with every movement. She walked carefully, barefoot across the mat, and knelt in front of Delilah. “You made pushies,” Harper said flatly. Delilah’s lip trembled. “And you’re not getting changed until I earn a wet star,” Harper added, voice low. Delilah’s eyes welled up. “I didn’t mean to go…” “But you did.” She reached forward, brushing her palm along the front of Delilah’s onesie, over the lumpy, sagging bulge beneath. Delilah whimpered and flinched, but didn’t stop her. Harper breathed in, and the smell made her stomach twist again, but she didn’t stop either. “This is what Mommy meant,” she murmured. “You’re not mine anymore.” Delilah blinked. “What?” Harper held up the key. “She gave you away.” And then, softly, almost without meaning to, she added: “I’m the first. I go first. I’m the bestest one…” Her voice broke around the childish rhythm of the phrase, her body suddenly curling in, a shiver shaking through her as she hugged herself tightly and dropped backwards onto her padded rear. Crinkle. Thud. Delilah was now staring at her the way she had moments ago, but he didn’t say anything. From the hallway, there was the sound of approaching heels., Mommy Cleo returned holding a fresh stack of laminated star charts. “Perfect timing,” she said, eyes scanning their expressions, their posture, their stink, before declaring, “You’ve both done beautifully,” with a wide smile on her face. She walked over, lifted Harper’s chin, and smiled. “Now let’s get my little matching set all cleaned up,” she cooed, “You’ve got so many more stars to earn.”

Vicky Williams had a worried expression on her face. She was sitting on the sofa worried that her 20 year old daughter wasn’t socialising enough and was working too hard on her college work. Vicky was a 37 year old brunette mum. “She really needs to get out and meet her friends and stop spending all her time doing her work” I head up to Ellie’s bedroom and knock on the door “Ellie?” Ellie is pouring over notes and mounds of books. Her heavy glasses are sitting on my nose. She hears her mum calling through the door. “Mum, not now. I need to study for the quiz next month. It's important." I say trying to zone you out but I know it's not that easy. Last month, you tried taking me out to go out and meet people for half an hour. I refused as I wanted to really study for college and I wanted to get great grades. I shook my head and got back down to studying. “Ok hun. I was just saying that I’m going to the shops and I’ll be there awhile'' Ellie doesn't hear anything and Vicky heads downstairs and grabs her purse. She gets in the car and drives to the local supermarket. As Vicky approaches the entrance, there are people handing out leaflets. One of them hands her one and she looks at it while going in. ‘All stressed out? Want to relax? Well take a relaxing day at our ‘feel young spa and health centre. You'll feel like a new you.’ Vicky smiles and thinks that Ellie would love that. She put it in her pocket and finished the shopping. 1hr later Vicky puts the bags in the car and drives home still thinking of the spa. She parks the car and puts the shopping away, head up to Ellie’s room. “Ellie, I saw this when I was shopping. Though you could do with it” she says, sliding it under the door. Ellie doesn't see it as she is in the zone. The clock chimes 11. Ellie looks at it and yawns. She wasn't finished with her studies but she was shattered. She got up from the chair and was about to flop onto her bed when she noticed the leaflet on the floor. It looks interesting and Ellie needs a break but she needs to finish this assignment. She puts it onto her bedside table and flops onto her bed and is out like a light. When Ellie woke up the next day, her body aches and her legs feel like lead weights. “God I'm aching, my body feels like I've been to the gym during the night.” She sits up in bed and looks over to her bedside table and takes the leaflet. “This looks really relaxing. I'll get mum to take me.” Ellie gets up and walks like a zombie downstairs. “Um, mum, can we go to the spa resort?” “Well, actually, I guessed you wanted to, so I decided to book us in today. I've signed us up for a few treatments too and I'm just waiting for you to have breakfast and then get dressed and we can go.” Vicky replied. Ellie nods and hurries up getting ready and 10 mins later both Vicky and Ellie are in the car driving downtown to the spa. 20 mins later, Vicky parks the car and both of them enter a big building. The building is an old huge mansion with the name ‘Feel Young Spa’ on the front. They go up to the front desk "Hello and Welcome to ‘Feel Young Spa’ the receptionist greets them. “Hello, we booked today. Our names are Vicky and Ellie.” The receptionist checks the computer. “Yes, right. That looks fine. If you don't mind following this gentleman here and he will take you to your first treatment.” We follow the man and are led into a tiled changing room with two white dressing gowns. “If you would like to take off your clothes and change into these dressing gowns and wait here, someone will be here for you shortly.” He leaves and we start undressing. We finished undressing and waited in the gowns. 5 minutes later, a woman entered the changing room. “Are you guys ready?" She asks and leads them into a room with two massage tables in the middle of it. “Ok, If you could lay down on your back and your waxing will begin soon.” She said, pointing to two tables. Vicky and Ellie lay down on the tables and wait patiently and 2 people walk through the door. “Right, who is Ellie?” Says one of them. She raises her hand. “Right you're mum signed you up for a full wax and relaxation package and Vicky you’ve got a waxing” says. “Can you put these towel round your waist?” We take the robes off and wrap them round our body. “To relax you further, please put on these headphones.” The lady places them on Ellie. On the headphones is peaceful, soothing music. Vicky looks over at Ellie and smiles that she is accepting this. Ellie winces a little bit every time that the wax strips are pulled off but the music keeps her relaxed. Ellie is so relaxed that she doesn't realise that the lady has finished waxing her and starting rubbing oil, herbs and chemicals into her body. Ellie smiles, enjoying it. What Ellie doesn't know is that Vicky has signed her up for the extreme mind stress reliever. This treatment uses hypnosis to mentally regress her mind to a much less stressful time and Vicky has chosen for her to become a 6 month old baby. Included in the package is treatments for Vicky. She will receive some drugs that will make her lactate and be able to carry her new baby. The lady taps Ellie on her shoulder and she opens her eyes and takes one side of the headphones off. “Yes?” Elle says. “Right I’ve put the oils on you so I’ll leave you to soak in them for 10 mins and I’ll be back. Lay back and I’ll check on you then”. The lady says as she starts to leave. She places the headphones back on and closes her eyes. She relaxes again, not bothering to look at Vicky who is talking to the lady. “When will her hypnosis take effect?” Vicky asks. “It will take effect once the clock hits midnight. Your changes will take effect once you get home” the lady says “also you ticked the home changes right?” She nods. “Right, when you get home, everything will be set up but don’t let her see till the next night.” I nod. The lady goes to Ellie and taps her on the shoulder again. “How do you feel? Do you feel relaxed and all nice?” She smiles and says “Oh yes. That felt brilliant. I needed that. I feel so relaxed and my skin feels so smooth and even down there feels nice. What’s next?” “Your next treatment is a mud bath, so get dressed in your gown and follow me” the lady said, opening the door. “Can I keep the headphones on while I enjoy the mud bath?” Ellie asks. “Sure, you wear them all day here” the lady replied. Ellie looked pleased. All three of them walk down the corridor and Ellie is still listening to the music. They all enter the room and there are mud baths full to the brim with mud. Vicky and Ellie slip off the gowns and enter the mud baths. The mud bath feels weird at first but it’s so relaxing. “I feel so relaxed mum. I’m glad we decided to come here.” Ellie says take your headphones off. “Well, I’m pleased to hear that cause you seemed so stressed with all that work. Now let’s soak still in the mud and enjoy the rest of our treatments” Vicky replied, closing her hers and disappearing under the mud. Ellie couldn't do that as the headphones would get dirty. About 30 mins later, the lady came back and told Vicky and Ellie that their session and treatment was over. Ellie took off the headphones and got into the showers and washed the mud off. “Mum you look great, your skin looks youthful.” Ellie says. “Thanks Ellie, you're not looking too bad either, looks like the oils and mud bath is doing your skin good” Vicky replies. A little milk trickles out from her breast but as she is showering, it gets washed away unnoticed. They dry themselves and head to the changing rooms. They head out past the receptionist. “Hope you had a great time. Please spread the word around that we are here” she says with a smile on her face. “Oh we had a lovely time, did we Ellie?” Vicky asks her daughter. “Oh yes, just what I needed. I’ll come again and spread the word.” Ellie says, smiling back. Vicky turns round and wink at the receptionist and she winks back. They head back to the car and arrive home a few minutes later. “I’ll get the wine and you switch on the tv and you choose the channel, Ellie” Vicky said heading into the kitchen. Ellie sits down on the sofa and switched onto an old episode of Friends. Vicky comes out of the kitchen bringing out 2 glasses of wine and hands one to Ellie. “We’ll just have the one glass and then bed ok?” “Ok mum” Ellie replies, raising the glass to her mouth. 20 mins later, the episode had finished, their wine was finished and both were tired. “Well, it’s bedtime. Let’s go, Ellie” Vicky says, getting up from the sofa. “Ok mum, I’m coming” Ellie says groggily. They head upstairs into each of our rooms. The moment Ellie disappears into her room and shuts the door, Vicky sneaks into the spare room to see what the spa people have done. She opens the door and Vicky's heart flutters. The room has been emptied of all the junk and replaced with the cutest baby furniture. It would be for a baby but it’s for Ellie instead so it’s bigger than normal. The room has been painted pink with cartoon animals painted over the walls. There is a white cot along one of the walls and above that is Ellie’s name in grey letters surrounded by a white cloud. In the corner is a nursing chair and a stool. The changing table is white like the cot and on it is a pink changing mat with white hearts. Underneath it, is stacks of diapers, wipes and baby powder. On the floor is a pink rug that covers the floor. Standing behind her is a pink wardrobe. Vicky opens the doors and her heart melts again. Inside are the cutest onesies and dresses hanging up or folded. There is a second compartment with bows, booties and assorted items. Vicky closes the wardrobe and takes in the nursery. “I can’t wait to show Ellie this,” I say to myself. She quietly heads out and closes and locks the door and walks to her room and with a smile on my face, she goes to bed. Meanwhile in Ellie's room, she is having a weird dream. She is 6 months old and everyone is cooing and cawing at her. Ellie tries to talk but just gurgles and drools. She sees her mum come into view. Vicky reaches down and tickles her tummy and Ellie giggles. A strange feeling is in her tummy for a brief moment and a grunt escapes her. Ellie feels a squishy feeling in her bottom and a warm wet feeling around her crotch. She starts crying. Ellie suddenly wakes up looking around and sighing that it was just a dream. She glances over at the clock on the wall and sees that it is 11:00. She closed her eyes again and fell back to sleep again without dreaming again. One hour later the hypnosis starts working. Ellie starts to feel a bit uneasy and turns in her sleep. Gradually her thumb works its way up to her mouth and her thumb enters her mouth and she starts suckling it and Ellie calms down and eases in her sleep. The alarm clock goes off and Ellie opens her eyes. She realises that her thumb is in her mouth and she pulls it out. “That was weird and so was the dream. Anyway, time for breakfast”. She walks downstairs and spots her mum sitting at the sofa drinking her tea. Ellie decided not to tell Vicky about the weird dream, putting it down to the stress of her work. “Thanks for the spa day yesterday mum. I really needed it.” Ellie told her mum. “I feel well relaxed and I can get down and continue my college work.” Vicky stopped drinking her tea. “No worries but I really hoped you would relax a bit longer and take a break from your work.” Her mum looked worried. “I can’t do that mummy.” Ellie looked shocked that she said that and like a kid. “I mean mum. I have an important assignment due in 2 days and it will help me pass.” Ellie said, still embarrassed that she talked like a kid. Vicky acted like she didn’t hear it and just nodded. “Do what you need to do hun. Just remember to take breaks”. Ellie nods and gets her breakfast ready. She pours the cereal in the bowl and pour milk into it and takes it to her bedroom. She puts it on her work table and starts up her laptop and Ellie starts her work. Ellie is busy working on her laptop when an ache from her bladder signals that it’s time for the toilet. Ellie runs to the toilet, pulls down her panties and sits on the loo just in time. She felt that if she waited a little longer, she would have wet her pants. After emptying her bladder, Ellie wipes herself and pulls up her panties and heads back to her room to continue her work. Ellie's tummy rumbles and she reaches over to the bowl of cereal and starts eating and finishes the whole bowl and drinks the cereal milk. She wipes her mouth and continues with her work. Elle had just finished a chapter of her work, when her bladder signals that it's full. “Not again, I don't need it again now”. Another ache and she runs to the toilet again just in time as her bladder muscles release her wee as soon as her bottom hits the seat. “That cereal must have gone through me. Well I don't need to go for a while now.” Ellie cleans herself up and heads back to her room to finish the 2nd part of her work. Ellie sits down on the chair but suddenly stands up as she feels a small damp spot on her panties. Shocked on how she could have a damp spot as she's been toilet trained for 18 years. Ellie quickly whips off her panties and opens her drawer to wear a new pair of panties. She pulls up the new pair and looks at the damp pair asking herself if she should go down to her mum and tell her. After a minute, Ellie decides against it and tells herself that it's just probably just the stress of starting her college work again. She goes downstairs and goes into the living room and switches on the tv to de-stress herself. The tv channel is being changed and stops onto a show called New girl which she loves. 20 mins into the show, Ellie starts to get bored, which is weird as she is usually captivated by it, and she tries to reach down for the remote, she realises that her hand is stuck to her mouth and that she's been sucking on her thumb without her realising. She pulls it out, embarrassed “Why do I keep doing that? I'm not a damn baby! Maybe it's just all this stress with work”. Ellie grabs the remote and starts changing the channel until something catches her eye. Flashes of programs appear on the tv: a cooking show, a nature show, a baby show, a dog behaviour show and a shopping show. Ellie goes to the dog behaviour show and watches it for a few minutes. They are training dogs to do various tricks. Vicky enters the living room and sits beside Ellie. “What on?” “I’m watching a doggie pwogramme….. dog programme.” Ellie looks embarrassed at her speech slur but Vicky pretends not to notice it. “Cute. You finished your work?” “I just need a break mum but it’s nearly done” Ellie replied not taking her eyes of the dog show. As she was answering, a dribble of drool fell from her lips and fell onto her top. Ellie shook her head and wiped the remaining drool from her lips and wiped her top but it still had a drool stain. Vicky looked at Ellie with a mixture of excitement and anticipation with how well it’s progressing. Suddenly Ellie runs upstairs and quickly sits on the toilet and feels her bladder empty but something feels wrong. She suddenly realises that she hasn’t pulled her panties down and is now sitting on the toilet in soaked underwear. Ellie starts crying with her head in her hands. The door opens up and Vicky sees her daughter crying. “What’s wrong?” Ellie looks up and sees her mum standing there. “I forgot to pull my knickers down to wee and also this is the 3rd time I needed the toilet today. I think something is wrong with me! I need to see the doctor.” Vicky walks up to her daughter. “Right I’ll book one for the morning but take a nap and I’m sure you’ll feel better.” Ellie nodded her head but realised that her thumb was in her mouth again and started crying and hugged her mum. Vicky was smiling inside that the hypnosis is progressing nicely. She led Ellie (with difficulty as she was still hugging her) to the bedroom. They both enter Ellie’s bedroom and Ellie started changing her wet knickers and cleaning her legs with wet wipes while Vicky looks at her phone. “Right, that’s the doctors appointment booked for tomorrow afternoon. Let’s get a good night's sleep. I’m sure it’s just stress.” Vicky says hugging her daughter as Ellie puts on clean knickers. Ellie puts on a pink top and lays down on bed and Vicky exits the room closing the door. As she closes the door, Vicky smiles that the hypnosis is working and soon she’ll have her little girl back again. In the bedroom, Ellie is drifting off to sleep and as her eyes close, her hand makes its way up the bed and her thumb enters her mouth, starts sucking on it and drifts into a peaceful sleep.

Who do you think you're kidding? Do you really think you're big and have control? Mommy knows precisely who you are and where you belong. In DIAPERS!! You may show you're big on the outside, but we know who you really are on the inside. Maybe you're a baby needing the comfort and security of soft, thick, thirsty diapers, or maybe you're a diaper lover wanting or NEEDING the comfort and excitement of a diaper to make you feel like you. All your dreams and goals are possible, and you can live the healthy, well-balanced life you always dreamt of. Never be afraid to be the person you truly are. We're here to help. My little one and I have developed an interactive, 24/7 diaper-dependent training program using the Virtual Master program. This interactive, virtual diaper-dependent training script of over 1300 pages leads you through the latest natural systematic conditioning and behavior modification techniques to facilitate diaper dependency and incontinence. It's a lifestyle script that takes you on a journey toward your goal of diaper dependency and a well-balanced lifestyle through daily interactions. YES! You can be diaper dependent! YES! You can wear and use diapers in any and every situation. Millions of others do it every day, and you can be one of them IF you decide this is truly who you want to be. You CAN create the life you want. It takes effort. It takes time. And it takes the guidance you need when you need it. Our program uses a reward and punishment system that is customized to you to ensure you are compliant. You can fully customize the script to meet your needs and desires. Customized options include the type of incontinence desired (bowel, bladder, or both), adult baby or diaper lover, gender, gender preference, your current bladder capacity, your level of privacy, sexual or non-sexual content, adapts to your personal work schedule, home tasks, marital status, the availability of a helper to keep you accountable, diet restrictions you have, weight loss goals if you wish, the level of exposure risk level you're willing to take and much, much more. This is truly a one-of-a-kind program. There is no other comprehensive, interactive program like this available. So let Mommy give you the 24/7 guidance you need to meet your goals. The programs require Microsoft Windows; however, instructions are available for its use 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 is made to eliminate the mistakes. Assistance is always welcome to identify errors and inconsistencies or aid future script development. We are excited to announce the addition of major improvements to the program. Among the list, each program now features innovative, advanced control of users' toilets and access to their diapers via locking plastic pants, utilizing Mommy's KeyVault system. Mommy now goes beyond just telling you not to use the potty and physically restricts use and access until she permits it. You have no choice but to follow her every command. For a complete list of improvements, see below. Go to https://www.etsy.com/shop/LilAgain for more details on the Diaper Dependent training program and Sunshine Junction Daycare program. Let me help make your dreams come true... Mistress Sebrina Diaper Dependent Training Program 2.2 update list: - Repaired bug that didn't discontinue cage use if a helper decided it should continue to be worn and then discontinued it. - Created locking plastic pants punishment and assignment. - Created toilet lock punishment and assignment. - Added signs on the main screen when going to bed to direct user what is to be done. - Fixed errors with going to bed sequence - Fixed error that did not give wear instructions when sub is unable to report upon waking. - Fixed Main screen sign to correspond with sub reply upon waking. - Created Quick Lock and unlock for use of plastic pants at night to ensure compliance. - Revised Going to bed sequence to allow for more accurate use of report upon waking function. - Added audio for Locking plastic pants and toilet lock - Added Program request to change Name and Gender identity - Added job to designate a timeout chair if time out punishments are permitted. - Added additional Audio files - Fixed Grammar and Spelling errors. - New narrative added. Here are a few examples of what you would receive...

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Depictions of non-consent and other forced actions of a sexual or other type of encounter Emasculation and feminization through various means and to differnt ends Degredation of human anatomy and mental status This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back and I hope everyone had as good of a break as I did! Work was stressful as usual these days, but it’s always nice to get away for a little bit from trying to meet my own personal deadlines, especially after such a large project as my last few stories were with some requiring all the completely new world-building and whatnot. Now, though, it’s just as equally good to be back and writing stories again. Unlike my previous story, due to how the system works here, I needed to be very precise in calculating everything out before I wrote a single word down. That being said, some of these chapters have proven to be temperamental and don’t quite make the page count I thought they were going to or are entirely too long for a single one. So, right now, the total chapter count stands at 27, but this is subject to change. Some of the later chapters are mapped out precisely as they are and won’t change, but some of the chapters in the middle may need to be altered or fleshed out to give more growth to these characters here. Which I guess is all to say that if the final tally of chapters changes at all, I will let you all know. Now, as much joy as I’ve derived from this story so far, I need to mention two caveats. First, I have based this story on a CYOA I found years ago. I’ve looked for the creator for at least five years now, but no such luck. I have also modified it for the story a little, but the concept is still there. Also, I should point out that because of some of the themes here, it will be a little coarser and more mature. I will try to give out warnings before some of the more intense scenes, but be warned, this one is not all fluffy diapers and pink princesses. Next, as is typical these days, I will post the next poll at the start of the following chapter. Looking ahead, I already know that this concept will be a one-off story, so there will not be a sequel in its future. With that in mind, the next poll will contain one DD story and two others that are a little more on the supernatural/spooky side. Because of this, I might try to put out more than three chapters a week and I might take a shorter break, but I think the stories are interesting enough on their own and plus, they have never been shown in one of my polls before. So, be on the lookout for all that next. Also, looking ahead, I’m absolutely tasking myself with writing/editing at least three chapters a week. That being said, with 27 current chapters and at least three a week, this will definitively bump into about mid-October, which means that I will be pausing at least at one point for a multi-day vacation. Once again, I’m headed down to Florida, but this time, it will be for some Halloween-themed events, so you just never know what twisted or fantastical tales I might come back with for new story ideas, so take comfort in the delay with the prospect of at least other future stories from me. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: Starting Off, 35-01 Blindfold. Gag. My hands are behind my back and tied with something… rope, I think. The truck I saw for a brief second before getting hustled up into it has a rusty axel that’s connected to a suspension that bounces heavily each time that we hit a pothole or some other ungodly bump in the road. The sound of cars, machinery… even people… all that vanished at least three hours ago now. In the back of the canvas-drawn over truck, I can feel the intense heat rise all around me as each hour passes and the day creeps on. Thinking back, though, despite my current circumstances, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that this is where I ended up… but really, I just wanted a job again. * * * The suited man opens the door for me and gestures inside. I look and blink a few times at the sparseness of what I’m seeing inside the hole that is the room he is gesturing to. “You’re kidding, right?” The older gentleman glares at me from his at least six inches above me. “No. You want the help… you go inside. No questions asked and you follow the instructions… or you’re out. No exceptions.” I wince a little and even turn around to view the door I just came from. I recite over in my head how to make a quit exit in case I need to. ‘Three lefts, down one floor, and through the main lobby and the security there and then out the front doors.’ There, it would be freedom and the life I had… rather than a barren room of unknown before me. But I also know what’s out there waiting for me beyond those front doors. The world sucks for people in my position, and my pride went out the window the first time another bill came in without the funds to fully back even one or two more of them. Simply put… I’m desperate. So, with a deep plunging breath, I go forward into the room. Once inside, with a sigh, I sit in the far metal chair with my back to a mirror… likely a two-way like an interrogation room. I feel the hair stand up on my neck and a growl inside my stomach… warning me to run, but these people have me cornered with the prospect of opportunity. So, even as the main door closes to this little barren room, I can really only just sit there and squash my horrid feelings deep down. Now alone with my thoughts and trying not to assume or think the worst-case scenario, I look around the room and try and check if this is some trick or a test of some kind. ‘No… no hidden messages on the walls… no pen or paper. Not even a whisper of something I should be listening for.’ It’s just me and the singular metallic desk and two hard metal chairs… both cold and unfeeling as they slightly glint off the single overhead light that slightly pendulums back and forth. Gratefully though, not to long after, the door then reopens, and another suited man comes in with a manilla folder. His expression is mostly neutral but his taught features and cropped haircut reek of ex-military and no nonsense. I could immediately feel a tightness in my stomach, one which I try to will away as I shift slightly in the chair. The man then closes the door and sits down calmly and without even a single word back to me before opening the folder out flat on the table. I immediately notice my photo on the upper right holding on by a single paperclip. “State your name for the record,” he commands, taking out a black-cased pen from the inside of his suit jacket. I swallow hard and wish more than anything that a glass of water would have been right there in front of me in that moment. “Jack… Thomas.” The man pauses and looks up at me with a hint of a hateful and annoyed glared in his eyes. “Your full name, Mr. Thomas.” I hesitate for a moment, hating my middle name… always have, but the man keeps staring at me. Maybe if the room was pastel blue and I hadn’t been frisked on my way in, I might have asked a simple ‘why,’ but my present circumstances tell me that any perceived ‘backtalk’ or questioning would be unwise. “Jack… Marie Thomas.” I can’t help but say my middle name with a slight distaste in my mouth. ‘Stupid family name…’ As typically happens, as I say it out loud, despite likely knowing it beforehand and just confirming my identity, even the stern man before me seems to find my middle name amusing… Ultimately though, he says nothing about it. He then uses his pen to go through several more verifications of my identity… social security, gender, age. All typical for someone trying to confirm I am who I say I am. Working for the government before, all that at least doesn’t faze me. But then comes the questions afterward. At first, they seem pretty normal for someone in my situation… like how long I have been unemployed, or, what my financial situation looks like, but then they start to veer towards the realm of being highly uncomfortable as why they would even need to be asked in the first place. Questions like, “Do you have heart troubles?” or “Do you have any family that miss you if you were absent?” are among the more particularly alarming. Finally, after he asks me if I’ve ‘had any surgeries,’ I can’t take it any longer. “Okay!” I shout, standing up and forcing my chair backward toward the likely two-way mirror. “No more questions! I’ve answered everything from my size to sexual preference to even if I have any allergies to medications or latex! What the hell does that have anything to do with finding a job?” The suited man glares at me and calmly stands up, towering over me. “Sit down, Mr. Thomas. These are all vital questions, I assure you… and we’re almost done.” His calm presence slightly infuriates me and only adds to my already-present anger. “Sit down? That’s all?” I smack the table. “Screw this, mister! I’m getting out of here right this second!” I march toward the door, but as my hand touches the doorknob, the man speaks up once more. “Mr. Thomas… Jack.” He calmly walks over to me and stands right up against my left side, staring down at me… not with rage or annoyance, but almost a calm passivity of a parent to a child. It more than halts my efforts in leaving right away. “You will find no locks on these doors or any others in this building toward the exit. You are free to go anytime you please...” Determined and still disturbed, my hand turns the knob. “Well, then. I’m getting the hell out of…” “But I encourage you to stay,” he says resolutely in a way that stops my hand cold… almost like he knows something I don’t. He then walks back over to the desk and retrieves my file before switching it to one of the pages on the left side. “It says here you’ve been out of a job for about a month now, which you also just confirmed for me. I’ll stop the questions, but… let’s talk about that for a second.” He pauses briefly. “Promise. Nothing more.” I hesitate to move back to the table, but I at least remove my hand from the doorknob and reface him. If nothing else, he seems happy about that. “Good. Now, come back to the table and sit down. Or stand… I just want to lay out your options here, Mr. Thomas.” I grumble and nearly leave on the spot, but there’s an odd quality about this man that makes me stay. I don’t know what it is, but that intangible quality eases me up a little. So, at least curious now, I walk back over to my chair… but I don’t sit down. “Very good, Mr. Thomas.” He calmly flips through several pages in my file. “So, again… you were laid off from your job about a month ago, correct?” “Correct,” I confirm, feeling a little deflated at admitting that. “I knew it was coming though. I’ve been working part-time for almost eight months now. Budget cuts and all…” The suited man nods. “Yes. The economy isn’t doing wonders at the moment and there have been several cuts to federal programs. Seems like your program was hit but you managed to linger on… at least until last month.” “Yes,” I admit, my ego deflating even more. “And from your earlier confirmation and from what it says from the application you filled out online that you’ve been looking for a job since then?” he asks before looking up at me. “But nothing since?” I shake my head. “Nothing serious. Small positions. Some part-time work I’m looking at in the meantime, but… I need something more. You can’t live in this area without something steady anymore.” “Yes…” The suited man’s eyes nearly seem to glow with opportunity, happiness, and another quality underneath that would amount to something nearly sinister. I focus on that last bit. “I see all that on your file here. Some college debts remaining… ouch on those, but a car payment… three years from paying off, and…” He looks back up at me and squints his eyes. “No savings?” I shake my head, and I feel I can’t sink any lower now in this room, sitting in the chair in a slump of built-up defeat before this mysterious figure… a deflated and defeated individual. “No… I have some savings, but… the form asked if I had less than $1000 in savings… which I do. So, yes, some saving, but not enough to check off the box indicating something higher.” “I see… so practically nothing and you’re living on fumes now as well…” He doesn’t wait for me to respond as my silence does plenty of talking alone. “So, you see, Mr. Thomas… when I ask you these questions… I know they may be intrusive, but honestly, this is for a government position and what amounts to an ultimate handout. With the economy and layoffs recently, I’m sure you can understand that we have many candidates in search of work or money these days.” He lets his points hang in the air for a moment, each one a painful reminder of my desperation and how close I am to failing completely. I wished I could say I had backups or a plan to bail me out, but that would be a lie. My parents are far away and broke themselves after sinking their money into some long-term investment. My brother is too busy with his wife and a new kid on the way… and we aren’t even that close. And friends? Well, I’m not exactly a social butterfly and the loss of my job hasn’t helped with that any in finding new ones. The suited man has me cornered and while the door is unlocked… it might as well be a safe door as far as I’m concerned for leaving through it now. Despite my apprehension, I know that this is one of the few chances I have to get out of the hole I’m digging myself further into every day. And terribly, the suited man knows it. His underlying smile, so subtle as to almost even be unseen, ripples along and emphasizes my desperation and his next question. “So… may I continue?” Submissive to his whims and with the knowledge that I have nowhere else to turn, I merely nod my head. He smiles, but this time his glee is obvious over my compliance with what he wants. “Excellent. Now,” he flips another page from the right side of my file, “do you have any fetishes… sexual deviancies? I really try not to judge… Purely for the record.” An hour later I’m back out on the street in Washington D.C. It’s been my home for years now, but lately it’s felt more like a self-contained prison. Each Brutalist building contrasts heavily with the Greek Revival ones, but each seems like a slap in my face now as I pass by them. ‘That’s where I used to work…’ is my constant theme these days, and each day that passes without a solid job, those words feel more distant. So, in an attempt to blur my lines of what is real and what is crushing, I head to the nearest bar I can remember. It’s a small little thing and usually a pretty quiet behind the Archives building… mostly a place for stuffy politicians or glassy eye curators. For me, though, I just order a beer and sigh as I look down into it and the bubbles fizzing up from the bottom. It’s a small distraction, but it still work its magic and let’s me forget for a second… “Pretty shit, huh?” the bartender asks out loud, catching me off guard. I look up with bleary eyes and squint back at him as he polishes off another glass with his dish towel. “Huh?” He gestures to the nearby small TV, almost looking at odds with the rest of the older style bar in the district. Still, unlike most others in the city, it displays the news instead of sports. Most newcomers request to change it, but that’s not what this place is about, and they’re always shot down. In this place, it’s all about governmental policy and change. So, when I look up at the TV and see yet another news report, it’s not surprising, but the headline opens my eyes more than I care to admit. “Government eases testing standards for new programs.” It could be worse, especially in the modern climate, but still… it makes me wonder. “Hard to believe. Maybe chickens won’t be tested as well or something. Saving a buck or two, I guess…” I shrug, not really knowing the answers and not being surprised by most anything on the news anymore. The bartender eyes a nearby chicken sandwich with more than a little unease but ultimately collects it and comes back. “Maybe, but… ready for another round tonight?” He gestures at the once full beer in my hands currently. I sigh and stare at my nearly empty glass. I want another, but ultimately, I shake my head. “No, would love to but…” I don’t finish my thoughts and simply pull out my only 20-dollar bill and hand it over. From the change I get back, I am sure to still leave a decent tip. I might be screwed these days, but I just can’t find it in myself to tip poorly. I walk back to my apartment rather than taking the metro. It saves me a little money, and the walking feels good… despite the fact that the weather is unseasonably warm for this time of year. It especially doesn’t help as I make my way up the flight of stairs and to my actual apartment. Little beads of sweat are already pouring from my forehead as my keys turn to my barebones living space. With my previous job, I was never here much before, so I never felt the need for more. Now though, especially as I immediately go back to job hunting and checking my email, it feels especially lonely. Tonight however, while I’m looking through my emails, I see what I’ve been looking for now for a month. The newest email in my inbox blinks and is all in bold. “Your application has been accepted.” It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping up and down in joy after reading the header of the fresh and beautiful email message. “Yes! Finally!” I briefly stifle my joy and check out the job… just in case of spam. To my utter relief, it seems all legitimate. So, not wasting a second, I quickly reply back to set up an interview. My hand nearly shakes the whole time I’m writing the email back to them. I can feel the electricity of the potential in the moment. It feels like… freedom… opportunity. Once I hit send though, I allow the waves of euphoria to fully pour through me. I’m electric… thrilled… jubilant. I jump up and after even do a little dance before snapping my fingers. “This calls for a celebration!” So, once more, I grab my keys and head out my door to the nearest convenience store. It’s small and a little dingy around the back, but they have a great selection of chips and ice cream… perfect for a little late night snack celebration. I almost go for chocolate and cherry, but considering the heat and the occasion though, I grab my favorite flavor of chocolate and peanut butter. It feels so good to clutch that pint of cold deliciousness in my hand and I even whistle slightly as I checkout. “Man, I wish I could be that happy about something,” the store owner tells me. “Oh, it feels great,” I acknowledge. “Just got a job application back and I’m waiting to set up an interview. I can honestly say that it’s the best news I’ve had in a month.” The store owner’s eyes light up and he smiles wide. “Congratulations, sir! Best of luck to you on that,” he says, handing me the receipt with nearly a bounce in his words now. Most people know the horrible state of the economy and the huge numbers of joblessness. An interview was always great before, but these days… it’s an even bigger deal. I smile even wider and take my receipt. “Thank you! I really think things are just about to turn the corner for me…” I then exit the store and head back to my apartment. I’m humming along the darkened street… a few lights out from the lack of maintenance. Crime is up in the area, but my apartment isn’t far, and I almost have developed sixth sense about these things by now. But I’m happy. That wouldn’t be a problem normally, but I’m nearly in bliss. There’s something so alluring and free about the prospect of an interview for me. It’s a light at the end of the tunnel and a beacon of hope I can turn toward through the rough storms that is my life at the moment. It should all be grand. I’m even whistling a bit once again and focusing just on what is in front of me. I’m distracted. I don’t hear the crack of a twig on the sidewalk behind me like I normally would. I don’t pay attention to the rubber turning on the pavement off to the side or the deft footsteps on the alleyway down on my left. I’m oblivious to all other things other than my own happiness that yes, I’ve turned the corner in life. Yes, most absolutely, things will be different. Turns out… just not in the way that I wanted. The personnel that surround me are very quick. Professional, burly, and imposing masked figures. They bear no insignia, and I can’t make anything out of them except their maybe six inches to a foot in height and maybe 30 pounds of muscle over me at least. One gets me from behind and places their hand over my mouth with some kind of cloth. Two go for my arms quickly after and lock me into place. The fourth goes for my legs in a vice-like grip. I can’t move and I’m being hauled away… right down the darkened alleyway and into a van. I try to scream. I try to flail around… but it’s useless. I’m useless. I’m packed into the black van in seconds, and I hear the side sliding door crunch over on its tracks and then slam shut before the vehicle lurches away. I barely move with how I’m still being held. No voices around me. Just hand signals and quick and efficient meaty hands that go to work around me. I’m locked in and I can’t do anything about it. Darkness starts to envelop me. The van is dark and curtains black out most of the light, but quickly, I know with terrifying horror that this is something more. My limbs become heavy. The fight inside me begins to fade whether I wish for it or not. I want to kill these people… at least scratch or beat them senselessly and flee back into the night and up to the relative safety of my apartment. But those are the actionable desires of someone fully conscious. Simply put, that isn’t me anymore. A hand is still over my mouth. Though the edges of my world begin to blur, I still smell something chemical in front of me. ‘The white rag covering my mouth and nose must be laced with something.’ There’s no other rational explanation for how I’m feeling right now. It’s a terrible sinking feeling in my gut. But it doesn’t matter. The figure that was once holding my legs now comes over to me, and while the van is still mostly black, a flash of light streams in from the front and highlights the metallic cylinder precariously balanced in their hands. The needle at the tip almost seems to sparkle and drip with something magical and yet unwanted. I’m not a genius, but it doesn’t take one to realize what is about to happen. With my last efforts of strength, I thrash about. But again, I’m useless. Before, it was the locked position of the personnel holding and pinning me in place. Now, I feel their grip is still locked but now significantly loosened. If anything, my efforts against them come off as simply pathetic. So, whether I wish it or not, the person takes advantage of my uselessness and weakness and comes forward. Before I can even attempt to scream out, he quickly jabs the needle right into my arm. It burns heavily and I wince and try to scream in pain as it plunges deep. But again, I’m useless. I’m powerless to stop anything, and worse… the blackness, at first creeping, now surges forward around my vision like a crashing wave. Now, there is nothing more. I feel nothing. I am nothing. * * * The bumps that jostled me awake earlier are no less smooth now than they were previously from what had to be at least three hours ago. I have to pee something fierce but the truck I’m bound, gagged, and blindfolded in has shown no signs of stopping. Occasionally, I hear something on the radio or hushed whispers, but that’s about it. I could forgive anyone from thinking that it meant I didn’t know anything. True, I couldn’t hear or really touch anything, but my other senses were ever more focused. I had watched a documentary last year about a woman who fled her kidnapper and because she remembered the sound of a train going by not long before the car she was in stopped, the police were able to later apprehend her kidnapper. So, drawing at least a few parallels between our situations, as soon as I had come to my senses, I tried to figure out anything I could in this less-than-ideal situation. The road was rough and bumpy. As I noted before, it’s what jostled me awake after I had passed out in D.C., but that was another prominent thing. Also, yes, it was summer in D.C., and the old swamp area was particularly humid, but now… it is still hot around me, but more of a dry heat. I feel the sweat accumulate slightly around my body in the back of the truck… likely poorly ventilated and maybe even open to the outside in places. I’m not entirely sure about that, but the heat and lack of humidity tell me that I’m nowhere near to where I live. Potentially problematic, yes, but also telling. Loving to travel, I’ve been to most of the surrounding states near D.C., and what’s absolutely certain, nowhere right now is receiving dry heat as their weather forecast right now. It’s either something akin to the swamps of Satan or the near drownings of a wretched batch of storms in the areas… not this. So, I begin to check off in my mind where I could be. ‘Definitely west of the Appalachian Mountains… but no cold or extreme breezes of the Rockies… plus maybe too far. Back roads definitely… so not near a city. No traffic lights either, since we haven’t stopped once, so that kills a lot of places as well. Figure a straight drive since last night and the amount of heat… intense and not boiling but growing… means early or midday… but that also would only place me somewhere along just east of the Mississippi longitude from when I was kidnapped last night to now.’ I paused and winced. ‘No… that’s not right, so… crap. Was I out for a whole day already? My bladder… shit. I’m even further west. Maybe a full day then… Still a big area though. Doesn’t narrow it down too much, but it’s something.’ I hope I’m wrong in most of that in a way, since going to a barren area hardly ever spelled something good, but considering I was kidnapped already… my luck doesn’t seem that good. The truck bounces me about a few more times and my need to pee is near to the bursting point. I try thinking about almost anything else, but that’s proving an issue. Between my hunger, my bladder, and my confinement, I nearly feel bugs crawling over my skin in a near phantom itch to move… to run. Just… anything more than this. I try to speak, but the gag prevents anything but a muffled sound emitting instead of the pleas to let me go or at least let me move around that I truly intend. It does attract the attention of my kidnappers though… “Hey, you!” a gruff voice nearly growls at me. “Cut that out. We’re almost there, so just sit tight. We can’t hurt you, but we can make your last moments out here very miserable.” I feel a hand shove me slightly back. “So… what’s it going to be? Stay calm or are we going to have to get… creative?” I sense his threat is exactly that. There was no hesitation or even any signs of a bluff on his part. This man, whoever he is, seems to have both done this before and be pretty okay with it and whatever else was necessary in his role to subdue me. So, weighing my options, considering my current state of being trapped, mute, and blind… I settle down and don’t say a word. The man chuckles. “Good boy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet…” His words do nothing to help the already pent-up and dreading feeling I had since I had been taken. Still, despite his gruffness and threats to use possibly violence or torture or some other nasty thing against me, the man was at least telling the truth that we would soon arrive. The van quickly lurches to a stop. A few shuffling noises later, my blindfold is finally removed. I have to blink a few seconds as the light streams all around me from the windows in the front and the back. I find it strange that the van is so open like that now as compared to last night with the curtains on the windows, but the figures in front of my vision fully distract me from any further thoughts on the matter. Masked and geared to the hilt, they exude an ex-military vibe that I often saw in my previous job when dealing with mercenaries and security personnel we contracted out for our safety sometimes. Not saying a word, the lead man then points out the door that is soon opened. More light floods in and I look back to the man who gestured to the door for more answers. I’m not sure why he isn’t just using his words, but at this point, I remember the veiled threat before. Whatever this is, I absolutely don’t want to make it uncomfortable… or at least more so than it already is. The man simply waves his hand at me out the door. I take his meaning this time to exit the vehicle. I’m still gagged, and my hands are bound together tightly… uncomfortably at this point, but again, I don’t want to cause any more problems for myself. Simply put… between the dry heat, the backroads, lack of traffic lights, and the amount of time it took to get here and stop, I don’t like my chances of escape. Terrifyingly, my suspicions are confirmed when I exit the vehicle. Desert… or at least at best a barren wasteland of dried-up prairies stretches for what seems like miles in all directions. Hazy mountains flank to the west, and to the east… nothing. I think I see a shimmering glint of maybe a tower… a fence… something, but definitely not civilization. If anything, even those signs of something else seem to reinforce the barrenness of where I’m currently standing. Another masked and geared man comes up to me and holds up a tablet of sorts near my head before glaring right at me. “Confirm… Jack Maria Thomas,” he directs right as another man removes the gag from my mouth from behind. I smack my mouth together a few times in an effort to remove the nasty threads left on my tongue. I can already feel the dryness of a lack of water from all that time, but I also see the masked man’s eyes. Sharp, focused… full of duty, sternness, and no-nonsense. I saw the same in the other man and I know not to screw around, but I know I need to try. “Please… just let me go and…” “Confirm,” he presses again, this time with a small amount of anger behind his voice and one of his fingers seemingly itching toward the stock of the gun he’s carrying as well. I swallow hard at the scene, and I nod as fast as I can. “Yes… that’s me.” I take a breath. “But what…?” “Silence.” His voice isn’t annoyed, angry, or even shrill like I might has expected. Just more to the point and focused on the task he seemingly has to perform. To me, it seems we both have our roles to fill… ‘Definitely not the overall leader of this thing.’ The man taps a few more things on the tablet before him, before strangely looking dismayed. I almost question him, but with everything going on around me, my thoughts bounce from one subject to the next and his looks take a momentary backseat. My vision moves from the desert landscape to the horizon line, to the distant mountains, to the men with guns… and then even to what I am currently wearing. Before, back in D.C., I was still wearing the suit I had worn to the interview earlier in the day. I had removed the suit jacket once I got home, but the button-up shirt and pants were definitely still attached to me. Now, they’re gone and in their place is a faded green prison jumpsuit of sorts. I swallow hard at the implications… Finally looking up from his tablet, the man looks at me once more. “Okay… here’s your situation. In a moment, you’re going to a bunker of sorts. You will be there for one year, and at the end… you’ll get a substantial payout for your services.” I frown back at him in confusion, but I keep my mouth shut, my eyes still drifting to the rifle attached to his body. ‘Definitely not where I thought this was going…’ “I see you have questions,” the man notes, stepping closer to me, “but they will have to wait. We need to do two things right now. First, know there are only three ways out of this.” He holds up one finger. “First… quit. You do that and all the money reserved for you at the end will be forfeited, and you will receive no government assistance of any kind afterward.” He holds up a second finger. “Two… flee. You try to escape, and…” He pivots over and points to the shiny point at the distance I had seen earlier. “You see that?” I quickly nod. “Good. That’s a watch tower. They’re all around you,” he notes menacingly as he gestures in a circle around where we’re standing before he rests his hand on his large gun. “They have guns just like this one… or even much larger. You escape; they have the option to shoot you on sight. You survive; you go back and incur a penalty… a harsh one.” He glares at me. “I wouldn’t suggest that route.” I wince but note internally that there’s still one more option. “And third?” I ask hesitantly, the first two options seeming truly terrible and hoping beyond measure that somehow the third would be more reasonable. “Third…” He smirks down at me, his few inches of height over me seemingly a lot more in our current roles. “Well, third is that you finish the year here. It might seem like a burden and impossible in the days ahead, but considering the others, I would still recommend option three.” Again, I quickly nodded. Another person, feistier and more combative might have fought, but that wasn’t me. I was trying to use my head, and simply put, I saw my options and the remoteness of where I was. Fight, escape, and flee, but to where? Out here, even if I managed to avoid the towers with big guns, my survival out here wouldn’t be guaranteed in the slightest. So, as much as a little voice inside my head was telling me to, my instincts told me as plain as day that fighting back would be pointless… foolhardy at best. “Very good. Maybe there’s hope for you after all…” He smirks and turns back to his tablet before holding it back up to me. “Now then… in you go…” I blink back at the man and look around. “Go? Go where?” The man points nearby and while I have to squint my eyes to see it, only about thirty yards away is what amounts to a slit in the ground. Only about 20 feet long, I see the ground plunges inward and leads to a submerged door right under the surface of the soil above. All of it concrete… devoid of emotion… uninviting. I feel a cold splinter of fear enter my heart. “Wha… what’s down there?” I ask, a weakness and subsequent trembling sensation beginning to take over my limbs as the true measure of my situation begins to unfold before my eyes. “That…” the man noted smugly. “That… is your new home for the next year… or at least the entrance to it.” He pauses for a minute, but me still not budging, the man then scowls back at me and raises his rifle barrel to my chest. “Now… I said to move. Or are you going to be giving us a problem already?” I see his rifle. I see the desperation of my situation being stuck in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by towers that had ‘shoot on sight’ orders. It was horrible, but it was that or the unfeeling bunker-like entrance now before me. Underground and heavy duty… there now seemed to be a permanence to my situation that I hadn’t felt before. I didn’t want to go down there. That’s for sure. I had read and heard about these things before… down there meant torture or death or imprisonment. I would be lucky to ever see the sun again. But… the gun in the hands of a scowling and tough ex-military masked figure before me presents an unmistakable choice, death or compliance. Unlike the previous man in the van before, the one in front of me had made no such promises of not hurting me. Somehow, the van ride now felt like the preliminary phase of all this, but now that I was here, the stakes of it all… the reality and actual event seem to be at my feet now. I didn’t like it… but I knew my options… and their limits. So, I meekly raise my still-bound hands as best to surrender and walk over to the entrance… no fight… no protest… Again, despite him still aiming his gun center-point at my chest, he smiles and soon follows me over to the slit in the ground that is to be my ‘home’ for the next year. Stopping right before the steps to the door, I turn around and hold my bound wrists up. “Can I… well, can I at least be free before I go down?” I try to widen my eyes and seem as desperate as possible. I want to stay strong, but I felt there was a wide gap between entering the creepy bunker with my hands bound versus them free. So, I had to try at least. There’s a grumble and an annoyance from my masked captors, but the main leader nods his head to one of the other men behind me. This new masked man comes at me hard and quickly flicks out a long knife from one of his chest pockets. It shines underneath the desert sun; glinting and deadly. I wince and shut my eyes… painfully aware that I’ve likely lost the protection that was once promised to me before. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, with everything going on, I’m no longer taking anything for granted… not even my safety or my life. But the man only ambles over, roughly takes my wrists, and cuts the rope that was binding them together. I open my eyes and see my now free wrists. “Thank you…” I muster out. The man only grunts and turns away… leaving the leader to point his gun once more at me. “Alright… you’re free. Now, down you go.” Again, his actions are clear, and his gun speaks the volumes that he doesn’t. It says threat and deadly force is now authorized on my hide. It says this is serious business and whatever awaits me in the hole, in case I already knew what was happening, isn’t going to be much better… or at least to the point where they would need to threaten me with entering or face down death itself. I rationalize that most things are better than death and then place my foot on the first step going down. My knees wobble as I turn around full now and head down the stairs. The morning sun begins to arc overhead and fill the hole with light, showing off all the dust floating around in such a barren climate. I see the door ahead of me… it’s shine in stark contrast to the rusted stains on the concrete around it… almost like the place had recently been repurposed… like I was the first guest to come here in years and precautions to keep me in needed to be upgraded. Seeing all that, my hands tremble as they reach out to the large wheel to open the door before me now. But, just in case, I turn around and look one last time at the leader. “I…” I don’t get to finish my thought… my counter to all this, hoping to plead one more time to leave. Instead, the man points his gun at me, but this time… he also makes sure to place his eye along the top rail of the gun, aiming at me with deadly precision. His new actions are clear to me now. Get into this bunker-like structure underground now and be a smear against the door instead. With such an ultimatum, I snap back to the door. I reach out with both hands this time and turn the wheel. It creaks and moans in an awfully hellish way like I am about to enter the very bowels and devilry of the earth. My stomach drops more, and I feel a single bead of sweat perspire on my forehead as the wheel finally budges. It turns and turns some more… the door finally opening. Inside is just another set of stairs downward. Darkness enshrouds more than a few feet, and I hesitate, but my ears pick up the faintest clicking noise. With my last job and growing up with a few who took me to a shooting range, I knew that sound… it was a gun loading its ammo… the weapon aligning with the bullet. Next stop, my head… my body. I have no choice. I don’t even turn around this time to plead to be let go or question a thing. I simply walk forward to my fate, sheer blinding light behind me and nothing but cold concrete and darkness before me. I swallow hard and give myself over to be swallowed by the earth and whatever this place is. Fully in, the door slams behind me. To my relief a few lights flicker on ahead of me. The stairs don’t descend as far as I originally thought but the ominous cramped feeling of all this place gives me a terrible case of claustrophobia. I immediately want out, but a quick turn of my head only reveals a thoroughly shut door behind me… and no handle or even a wheel to let myself out even if I chose that option and forfeited the end prize. Now, whether I want it or not, I’m truly trapped. Suddenly, a speaker overhead crackles to life. The sound coming from it takes a second to synch and come in as more than static, but even in the old-fashioned clicks and echoes of a speaker system at least thirty years old now sounds like, the words are very clear. “Keep moving.” I don’t know why, but I merely nod my head in compliance. I can’t go back. The sealed door and lack of egress proves that at least ten times over in my head. I can only go forward, and now with the lights… it’s not just wandering around blindly in the dark. It’s a concession for sure as to how far I’ve fallen into this terrible plot seemingly against me, but again… I feel I have no choice, or at least not a real one... Wandering down the staircase, holding onto the rail the entire time, I eventually come to a landing zone of sorts before another door. The speaker in front of me this time crackles once more. “Scan your hand on the pad in front of you.” I look and that beyond the grungy metal fittings and the leaking concrete in places, there is a brand-new electronic system… right next to where there is a large pad. It blinks a few times and then stops. Looking around, I don’t see any traps, so, I sigh and place my hand on the pad as instructed. The pad hums and blinks a few times before turning green. “Excellent,” the voice behind the speaker says once more. “You may proceed inside.” A hiss follows and the large metallic door before me opens wide. “Step in,” the voice calls out overhead. Not wanting to stay any longer in the hallway than I need to, I step inside… only to wish I saw just about anything else. Inside is only what I could describe as a jail cell. A simple plastic-like faded green bed has been shoved against one wall. The most basic metallic and uninviting toilet and sink are against another. A barred door is at the other end and as if I didn’t remember for whatever reason, the other door behind me slams and hisses close. Curiously, as I turn back, I am only greeted by a flat wall with a single seem around the edges of where the door had opened up. It’s all cold, barren, and unfeeling… except the electronic device in the corner of the room. Compared to everything else, it seems out of place. Not much larger than an oversized notebook, it blinks to life, and a single plain computerized image of a person appears. “Come here,” the voice from before says without emotion, now sounding more like a computer recording than an actual human being. I step forward cautiously and for whatever reason, I wave at the thing. “Hello?” “Greetings… candidate 35-01.” Again, the voice grates and there’s almost a synthetic whine behind it as well. “Please confirm identity and place hand on screen where indicated.” Like before, I see the blinking panel just to the left of the computerized plain head staring back at me. I sigh and place my hand where instructed. “Jack Marie Thomas.” I was starting to get annoyed at having to say my name… particularly my middle name, so often. A ping goes off and the voice returns. “Welcome, 35-01… Mr. Thomas. You have been selected by the government from a contest of over a thousand candidates to participate in a year long study and observation, known to authorities as ‘Operation Hebe.’ During this time, you will be required to make certain selections in order to facilitate your life… benefits or consequences.” The screen then changes to a counter, but to my dismay it starts simply at 100 and then counts down to only 5. “These are your starting points. As you will see, think of these as a money system of sorts. The more you have, the more you can obtain. All candidates are assigned what you will find labeled as the ‘jail cell.’ You may opt out of this at any time but know that your points can never equal less than zero. Answer, ‘acknowledge’ that you understand this.” Seeing the numbers count down to only 5 quickly gives me an uneasy feeling in all this. I feel queasy… faint and dizzy too. I nearly fall over right then, but I place one hand against the wall at the last second and take a deep breath. “Acknowledge.” The words feel like poison over my tongue, but I don’t see many other ways out. “Recorded.” The screen then flickers briefly and then changes to a large screen with several labels on it. Even in my brief look before it flashes away, I see two labels… listed as ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners.’ “What the fu…?” “Please, 35-01,” the electronic and mostly faceless voice interrupted. “Look through these first few categories that are mandatory. We will give you some time to choose as we know this may be a shock to your system, but your non-compliance will be met with punishment.” The screen flashes back to the selection options. ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners’ appears, but so do others before the screen switches once again to one labeled at the top as ‘Medicine Effects at 6 Months.’ My eyes instantly widen in shock at the options… particularly with the flashing ‘Selection of One Mandatory’ sign near the top, highlighted all in red. “Hair growth? Incontinence? Penis shrinkage? IQ drop?” I yell out at the screen to where I once saw the lifeless computerized head of the only voice I had been hearing down here. “What the hell is this place?” I smack the bars next to the screen, but there is no response. It’s just me here… me alone with these horrid options. Me alone in a self-described ‘jail cell.’ Me alone after being kidnapped and now confirmed to be part of the government. I slump on the bed in realization of everything clicking together. “The government… the interview I did…” Me, the homeless, ex-government employee walked right into this trap. I wanted a job, and now… for the next year, I seemed to have one. My mind swirled, but it didn’t last long. “35-01. Please make your choice. You now have one hour to make your choices… or suffer the subsequent punishments,” it calls out, its electronics seeming fragile in this state as it droned on. I look over at the still-flashing screen and the selection I have to make. Considering the methods that were employed to get me here… the guns… the towers… the desert… even the bunker I was now in. It all leads me to the same conclusion… punishments mean business here and finding out what they were was ill-advisable to say the least. I sigh and stand up. “Fuck… this is going to be a very bad year…”

Hi guys, If you want to read this full story and more ABDL content, check out my Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Adopted by a Family, Diapered Senpai, and Heather's New Baby. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Too Good to Be True (Regressed & Diapered by the Landlady) Hi guys, This is a gender-bender version of the classic Room & Board. It's basically a similar setting and situation, although the escalation differs a lot by the end. Hope you like it. Chapter One — Room & Board It had seemed too good to be true. The rent was affordable, the house was within walking distance from campus, and the room itself was clean and already furnished. Anne knew there had to be a catch—there always was—but after a month of rejections and price-gouged listings on the student housing app, she was willing to overlook a few quirks. The only real downside? It was just a room in someone’s house. Not an apartment, not a basement unit. Just a bedroom in a two-story home owned by a woman named Mrs. Owens, who must’ve been in her fifties, though she didn’t look a day past forty-five. There was something slightly off about her from the beginning, though. Nothing Anne could point to exactly—she was polite, well-spoken, and even a little charming in a Midwest-motherly kind of way—but the way she talked to Anne bordered on condescending. Near the end of their first meeting, Mrs. Owens had glanced up from the lease and asked, completely deadpan, “You don’t wet the bed, do you?” “Excuse me?” Asked Anne, taken aback. “Bedwetting,” she repeated, as though it were any other line-item concern. “Some of my past tenants have had... issues. And I don’t rent to anyone with that problem. It’s non-negotiable.” Anne had stammered a firm “No,” trying not to let the weirdness of the question rattle her. Mrs. Owens had nodded and pointed out the clause in the lease as if she expected Anne to change her answer. But Anne had never had a problem like that in her life. Weird clause aside, the room was a steal—and in this town, that meant something. The university had over-enrolled, dorms were packed, and off-campus housing was fiercely competitive. So she signed the lease, thanked Mrs. Owens for her hospitality, and tried to convince herself that it would be a perfectly normal arrangement. At first, it was. The house was quiet. Mrs. Owens kept to herself most of the time. Anne had class in the mornings, study sessions in the library in the evenings, and nights to herself. Meals weren’t included, but the kitchen was fully stocked and Anne was welcome to use it. She agreed to help with a few weekly chores in exchange for a rent discount. The plastic mattress protector was a little odd, but she shrugged it off. Probably one of the bedwetting tenants had to use it before. Anne agreed to leave it on the bed for the first month just in case, but she knew she wouldn't need it. That assumption, however, didn’t hold up for long. Two weeks in, after a night of hard partying and too many Jell-O shots, Anne woke up groggy, head pounding, and mouth dry. Her sheets were tangled around her legs. Her pillow felt like sandpaper. She squinted against the morning light bleeding through the curtains and rolled over—only to stop dead. The sheets were damp. Her stomach dropped. She threw back the covers and stared in horror at the large, unmistakable stain beneath her. The scent confirmed it: she’d wet the bed. “Oh my god,” she whispered, pressing a palm against her forehead. Her memories of the night before were fuzzy. She remembered dancing, laughing, beer pong with a few friends she had made, and then…then stumbling home past midnight and crashing face-first onto the mattress without even brushing her teeth. But this? She had been drunk before, and she had never had a problem like this. She peeled herself out of bed, frantically pulling the sheet loose and bundling it up, trying to minimize the damage. Maybe the mattress protector had held. Maybe— The sound of footsteps in the hallway made her freeze. “Anne?” Mrs. Owens’s voice was muffled but close. “Are you decent?” Before she could respond, the door creaked open. Anne stood there, stunned, still holding the balled-up sheet in her arms like a guilty kid caught red-handed. Mrs. Owens took one look at her, then at the bundle, and then at the bed. “I thought you said you didn’t wet the bed.” Anne flushed. “I don’t. I mean—I didn’t. It was just last night, I drank too much, and I guess I—” Mrs. Owens walked over briskly and peeled back the remaining bedding to inspect the plastic cover underneath. “At least this held,” she muttered, running a hand across the surface. Then she turned to Anne. “Do you know how expensive a mattress is?” “I’m really sorry,” Anne mumbled. She felt queasy, embarrassed, and still mildly hungover. “Well, that explains the headache and the mess. You’re not the first freshman who partied too hard and woke up to a puddle. But I warned you. It’s in the lease.” Anne’s stomach clenched. “Please—I’ll clean everything, I swear. It won’t happen again.” “That’s what they all say.” Anne looked up, panic rising. Mrs. Owens gave her a long, assessing look. Then, with a slight sigh, her tone softened—just a little. “I’ll give you a choice.” “I’ll do anything…” “You can pack your things and be out today. I’ll give you a neutral reference, but I won’t lie if someone asks why you left the house. And I’m guessing it’ll be hard to find anything mid-semester without a good reference.” Anne’s throat tightened. “Or,” Mrs. Owens said, “You can stay. But if you do, we’re doing things my way.” Anne didn’t like the sound of that. “What do I have to do?” “The way I handled it with my girls when they were young. When accidents occurred, they wore protection. Just at night. It was simple. Effective. And the bed stayed dry.” Anne stared at her. “You mean…” Her voice faltered. “You want me to wear diapers?” “Just while you sleep. No one else has to know. But if you want to stay in this house, I need to know the bed is protected. This isn’t negotiable.” Anne’s cheeks burned. She hated how logical the woman made it sound. She hated that she didn’t have a better solution. But it was clear she was in the wrong. “And how long would I have to…?” “Every night for a week. If you keep them dry, then we can transition back to big girl panties,” she paused. “But one single accident and it will be diapers until the lease is up or you decide to leave.” She turned to leave. “Come see me when you’re ready for bed tonight. We’ll get you set up.” Anne stood frozen, her arms still wrapped around the damp sheet. Her mind whirled. Diapers. She hadn’t worn one since she was a toddler. But what choice did she have? Most of the day, she’d managed to push the whole thing to the back of her mind. After throwing the sheets in the washer and scrubbing the mattress cover twice over, Anne had gone out for coffee, caught up on notes in the library, and even met a classmate for an early dinner. She had been so caught up in her responsibilities and social life that she completely forgot about Mrs. Owens. But the woman had not forgotten about her. That night, Mrs. Owens crept into her room like a ninja. “Almost forgot our arrangement, didn’t you?” she said, with a smile on her face. “Come on now. Let’s get you ready for the night.” Anne followed Mrs. Owens down the hall in awkward silence, heart thudding as they reached the linen closet at the end. The older woman opened it without a word and pulled out a folded white rectangle from the top shelf—a disposable diaper, thick and crinkly. Anne couldn’t take her eyes off it. It looked absurd in her hands. Too big for a child. Mrs. Owens turned and handed it to her without ceremony. “There’s powder and wipes in the upstairs bathroom,” she said. “I suggest you use both.” Anne nodded, face burning. She took the diaper as if it were radioactive and scurried into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. For a few seconds, she just stood there, staring at herself in the mirror. Her reflection looked back at her—twenty years old, honor student, newly independent—and now, apparently, about to put herself in a diaper because she’d wet the bed once. One drunken accident, and suddenly she was being treated like a child. She set the diaper on the counter and began to undress. Once she was naked, she opened the diaper. The padding felt soft and thick. There were tapes—two on each side—but she couldn’t figure out the angle until she lay back on the bath mat and awkwardly pulled the front panel up between her legs. The tapes barely stuck at first, and she had to redo them twice. Eventually, she managed to get it right. Standing up, she looked in the mirror again. The thick bulk between her legs was impossible to ignore. She felt ridiculous. Infantile. But it was only one week. There was no way she would wet the bed again. She padded back into the hallway, arms crossed over her chest. Mrs. Owens was already waiting in her nightgown, holding something else in her hand. “What’s that?” Anne asked hesitantly. Mrs. Owens lifted the item. “Plastic pants. Just for added protection. Sit down and I’ll help you with them.” Anne opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t find the words. She sat on the edge of the couch as the older woman gently guided her feet through the leg holes and pulled the waterproof layer up over her diaper. “There we go. All set.” Anne stared straight ahead, her cheeks burning. She could feel the elastic gripping her thighs, the snug press of padding under her sweatpants. Mrs. Owens gave her a satisfied nod. “Sleep well, dear. You’ve got nothing to worry about now.” Anne didn’t respond. She just nodded mutely and shuffled back to her room, the soft crinkle of plastic trailing behind her with every step. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy Part II: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F1DFN2B9 or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Camille's Diapered Stepmother: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F7S44THM Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Ruby Asura was an 18 year old who just finished high school and was getting ready for college for the first semester but tomorrow she would be celebrating her birthday tomorrow “Mama I’m home.” She called out walking in the door with her bag.

This is a new story I am being commissioned to write. This is my first commissioned story. With out spoiling to much. It about a 22 year old girl, the is regressed slow, and mentaly regressed to some degree. Of course there will be diapers in this storys and it is another slow burn. I like character development. I warned the person I am writing this for about my style that I don't think I can write a short story. So please enjoyed my little friends... Chapter 1 - A Day in Elara's Life The alarm at 5:30 AM had all the subtlety of a car crash. Elara Vance, twenty-two and perpetually exhausted, jerked awake in her twin bed, sheets tangled around her knees, hair matted into a thicket that defied both gravity and her will to live. Her willowy frame was drowned in an oversized T-shirt with fraying hems, and the strap of a camisole cut across her collarbone. For a solid minute she tried to decode the blaring—phone or clock, dream or reality—then accepted her fate and silenced it with a swipe that nearly sent her phone clattering to the floor. Her long dark hair, usually a cascade of curls, was a snarl around her face, and her eyes, brown and bleary, blinked against the morning light. The world beyond her eyelids was too bright and too cold, but there was no such thing as the snooze button in the Vance house. She extricated herself from the cocoon of linens, wincing at the chill, and thudded barefoot to the bathroom. The mirror made an enemy of her: dark circles painted under her eyes, left cheek with a red streak from god-knows-what. Maybe if she skipped brushing her hair today, nobody would notice. Maybe the Pope was a shapeshifting iguana. She splashed water on her face, spit the toothpaste into the sink, and smeared whatever knots remained into a bun that would not pass any Instagram muster, but might survive until lunch. The kitchen was her dominion and her battlefield. She set the pan on the stove, cracked eggs with a one-handed violence, and stacked toast slices like she was dealing blackjack. The biochem notes—an entire chapter on amino acid degradation—stood open and accusing on the counter, anchored against the coffee maker by a salt shaker. She glanced at the text between flips, brain dredging up the difference between lysine and leucine with the kind of effort usually reserved for childbirth. Caffeine was non-negotiable; she loaded the French press and willed it to brew at double speed. By 5:38, Fin appeared. He was 14 and wore the exhaustion of a Vietnam veteran. His pajamas were a four-day-old hoodie and mesh shorts; his hair looked like it had been styled in a wind tunnel. He didn’t say good morning, just grunted and made a beeline for the fridge. Elara didn’t look up. “If you drink straight from the carton, I’m telling Mom.” Fin made a show of unscrewing the cap and drinking directly from the jug, locking eyes with her over the rim. “Disgusting,” she muttered, turning back to her eggs. “I hope you get salmonella.” Chloe’s entrance, at 5:40, was a different flavor of hell. She wore three different shades of pink and operated at a decibel level that violated several state ordinances. Her backpack was overstuffed and she was already texting, thumbing out messages with a desperation that suggested life-or-death stakes. She had just turn sixteen a month ago. “Have you seen my permission slip?” Chloe shrieked. “I left it right here. Elara, it was on the table—did you move it?” Elara didn’t take her eyes off the pan. “Didn’t touch it. Check under the microwave.” Chloe whined, “Fin, get up and help me! I need it signed before homeroom!” Fin, who hadn’t moved from his station at the fridge, said, “I’m busy.” He closed the door with his foot and chugged the milk again, just to spite them both. Chloe ramped up the volume. “You’re such an asshole!” “Language,” Elara said, at the same time as Fin muttered, “Fuck off.” It was 5:44 and already the kitchen was a disaster. The eggs were stuck to the pan, the first batch of toast had burned, and someone (Fin) had left a trail of cereal flakes across the counter. Elara abandoned the toast, snatched the blackened slices, and scraped off the worst of it with a knife. Chloe was still overturning piles of mail in the next room. The biochem notes, now spattered with coffee rings, bore silent witness to her unraveling. “Here, eat,” she said, sliding a plate toward Fin. He ignored it and fished a Pop-Tart from his hoodie pocket instead, a move so calculatedly lazy it almost impressed her. Elara downed half her coffee in a single gulp, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and signed Chloe’s permission slip the moment it was thrust in front of her face. She didn’t read it. “Don’t forge my signature next time,” she said, flipping to the next page of her notes. Chloe took the slip, crammed it in her bag, and immediately began complaining about the lack of yogurt. “We’re out of vanilla. I can’t eat the berry kind, you know that.” “Did you die yesterday from the berry yogurt?” Elara asked. “Yes,” Chloe said, deadpan, “but I came back, like Jesus.” Fin snorted milk out his nose, which Elara refused to acknowledge. She checked her watch. 5:53. The entire morning was a knife fight. “Go get dressed, both of you. I don’t want to see your faces until you’re ready to leave.” Fin shuffled out, making a point to trail crumbs. Chloe followed, still attached to her phone like it was an oxygen mask. Elara tried to reset: she poured another coffee, re-read the same paragraph four times, and mentally calculated how late she’d be if she skipped shaving her legs. (Answer: three minutes. Worth it.) But the universe had other plans. Chloe screamed from the upstairs bathroom—something about Fin and toothpaste and “bitch”—and Elara felt her blood pressure spike to a medically inadvisable level. She counted backwards from ten, failed, then stomped to the stairs to referee the melee. Fin was barricaded behind the bathroom door; Chloe was wailing and pounding on it like she’d been shot. “What did you do?” Elara demanded. Fin’s voice came muffled: “I told her to wait her turn. She started it.” “She put toothpaste on my hairbrush! On purpose!” Chloe’s hands shook as she brandished the evidence. “Get a grip. Wash it off,” Elara said, turning back to the kitchen. She stepped in a puddle of spilled milk on the way, cursed under her breath, and mopped it with her sock. Both feet were now damp and freezing; she only then realized her socks didn’t match—one grey, one purple, both with holes in the heel. At this point, the existential crisis could wait until after finals. By 6:09, Elara had wrangled both siblings back to the kitchen. Fin was wearing the same hoodie, now inside out. Chloe’s hair was in a lopsided ponytail, her cheeks streaked with mascara from an earlier tantrum. The breakfast table was a postwar zone. Fin had taken all the butter and was methodically scraping every last molecule onto his toast. Chloe poured her orange juice so aggressively it splashed onto the Formica. “Elara, do you have my science project?” Chloe asked. “You said you’d print my slides, remember?” Elara did not remember, but she said, “Yeah, it’s in my bag,” and hoped Chloe wouldn’t ask for it until they were in the car. Fin said, “We’re gonna be late,” in a tone so lethargic it was almost a threat. Elara checked the clock. 6:17. She was behind schedule by five minutes, a level of failure that would haunt her for the rest of the day. She corralled the siblings to the door, slung her own bag over her shoulder (the weight nearly separating her spine), and realized at the last possible second she’d left her calculus textbook on the kitchen counter. She doubled back, snatched it, and in the reflection of the microwave door caught a glimpse of her own face: pale, hollow-eyed, twenty-two going on sixty. The only thing keeping her upright was caffeine and raw stubbornness. They tumbled out the door and into the predawn gloom, Chloe already complaining about the cold, Fin still chewing. Elara locked up behind them and, for the first time that morning, allowed herself the luxury of a single, quiet sigh. And then she remembered: she hadn’t packed a lunch. For anyone. “Shit,” she said to the universe, which had long since stopped listening. The Vance family Honda was technically blue, but years of neglect and at least two fender benders had stripped it down to a patchwork of mismatched body panels and mysterious stains. The interior looked like a raccoon’s starter home: seat pockets bloated with empty Starbucks cups, the floor mats hidden under a crunchy strata of fries and Funyuns, the dashboard sticky with a residue Elara had stopped trying to identify. Chloe was in the back seat, already shrieking at Fin, who had commandeered the window and, by extension, all the available oxygen. “It’s not even a real speedrun if you use glitches,” she declared, stabbing at her phone screen for emphasis. Fin, king of indifference, said, “You’re just mad because I beat your PB by, like, an hour.” He was barely awake, but still managed to weaponize his voice, each syllable a sleepy punch to the solar plexus. “I’m mad because you’re a liar!” Chloe bared her teeth, the argument escalating before Elara had even finished reversing out of the driveway. Elara cranked the volume on the radio, praying that an NPR pledge drive would drown them out. It did not. The morning traffic on Wedington was a viper pit; each red light chewed another five minutes out of her schedule. She white-knuckled the steering wheel and muttered silent curses at every SUV that dared merge in front of her. From the backseat, Fin asked, “Did you bring the permission slip for Friday? Coach said I can’t go if I don’t have it today.” Elara shot a glare into the rearview, where Fin was eating what appeared to be an unwrapped granola bar directly out of his hoodie pocket. “You told me you didn’t need it until Thursday.” “That’s for the practice. This is for the game.” He made no effort to conceal the ‘duh’ in his voice. Elara’s blood pressure did a little samba. “You’ll get it when you get home. Now shut up about it.” Chloe switched gears, immediately, effortlessly. “I bet you’ll forget, like when you forgot to pick us up after the Science Olympiad.” Elara braked hard at a yellow, barely stopping in time. Chloe’s head snapped forward, ponytail hitting the back of Fin’s seat. “Sorry,” Elara said, not sorry at all. Fin retaliated by flicking the crumbs of his granola bar at Chloe, who shrieked again, this time for volume. Elara’s eye twitched. By the time she pulled up to the junior high, both siblings had reverted to cold war silence, arms crossed, refusing to look at each other. Elara rolled down her window. “Fin, your backpack. You left it on the floor.” He scowled and stomped out, taking his sweet time. Chloe rolled her eyes and whispered, “He’s so dumb,” with the air of a sainted martyr. “Text me when you’re done with practice,” Elara said. Chloe made a face. “If you’re late, I’m walking home.” “Then walk.” But Chloe just slammed the door, nearly taking a chunk of Elara’s dignity with it. She peeled away, the car shuddering like it might finally give up. She wished it would. It was a race against the clock to get to campus. She hit every red light between the high school and University of Arkansas, and by the time she screeched into Lot 56B, her eyelid was spasming with the effort of not screaming. She abandoned the Honda somewhere near a median, shouldered her backpack, and hustled up the hill toward the Life Sciences Building, each step fueled by spite and raw, undercooked adrenaline. The building was newer than most of campus—white-bright halls, too many windows, fluorescent lights that made everyone look like a cadaver. Elara darted up the stairs, past a group of freshmen who all wore the same North Face fleece, and slipped into the lecture hall just as the doors were closing. She snagged a seat in the third row, where the tables were still mostly free of gum and graffiti. The professor was already three slides in, her voice a monotone drone: “Enzyme kinetics is the study of the rate at which substrates convert to products…” Elara’s notes from yesterday were an illegible scrawl, her handwriting proof that the human brain could, in fact, be destroyed by repeated exposure to 5:30 AM. She tried to follow, but every time the prof said “catalyze,” she imagined the word as a synonym for “ruin.” Within five minutes, Elara’s brain tried to bail. Her eyelids drooped. Her head bobbed. Each time she jolted awake, the guy to her right would glance over and sneer in that “I would never fall asleep in class” way that only physics majors seemed to possess. She tried to focus. She really did. But her mind kept doing donuts in the parking lot of her own misery: did she sign that slip for Fin? Did Chloe have the project? Was she supposed to email Mom about the carpool? She blinked hard, re-read her last note—‘active site hypothesis = like lock and key?’—and realized she hadn’t processed a single word since sitting down. A sharp vibration against her thigh. Text from Fin. “Did you get the slip?” Elara ignored it. Two seconds later, another ping. “Coach said bring it tomorrow. He’ll bench me if you don’t.” Third text: “Not joking.” Fourth: “You there?????” Elara turned her phone face down, took a breath, and tried to conjure up some enzyme metaphors that didn’t involve slow, inevitable decay. She managed a full eight minutes of marginal wakefulness before her chin dropped and she actually, physically, snored herself awake. The humiliation was total. The guy next to her—perfect skin, perfect notes, perfect sneer—sighed audibly. “Can you not?” he hissed. “Sorry,” Elara whispered. Her face burned. She attempted to write something in her notebook, but the pen slipped and left a jagged blue line across the margin, which honestly was the most honest thing she’d produced all semester. By the time class ended, Elara was running on pure muscle memory. She packed up her bag, still ignoring the steady pinging from Fin (now at nine unread texts), and shuffled out into the corridor with the rest of the dead-eyed hopefuls. She made a pit stop at the vending machine—coffee, only marginally more palatable than battery acid—and checked her phone. From Fin: “Don’t forget.” From Mom: “Fin says you’re supposed to bring a slip for tomorrow?” From Chloe: “Can you pick me up at 3? Please don’t be late.” Elara swiped the notifications away. One more class, then the bookstore. Then another class. Then home, and homework, and the endless echo chamber of her siblings’ needs. She drank her vending machine coffee black, no sugar, the way a hostage might drink poison if it meant they’d get to rest, finally, at last. Lunch, such as it was, came out of a vending machine that dispensed edible regret in plastic wrappers. Elara selected the least-offensive protein bar—chocolate and something called "Power Blend"—and washed it down with a diet soda that tasted like battery corrosion. Her phone buzzed with the persistence of a tax auditor. Fin: “Coach says I need the slip by 8am. Why didn’t you answer?” She thumbed out a reply with the grace of a gravedigger: “Have class. Will print later. Chill.” Fin: “Mom says you have to do it today.” Elara took a savage bite of her bar. Every swallow felt like penance. Her brain itched. Should she skip her next lecture to print the slip? Should she risk another late arrival at the bookstore? There was no winning—just a buffet of smaller, sadder losses. Her phone buzzed again. Chloe this time: “Don’t forget me after school. If you’re late I’m telling Mom.” Elara tapped out a “k” and chucked her empty soda into the recycling bin. The world was built to grind her bones into meal. She ducked into the library. The place was all soft carpets and whispered stress. She commandeered the first open computer, logged in, and pulled up the permission slip from her email. The printer coughed, then belched out two pages—one for Fin, one for the bottom of her backpack, destined never to be seen again. She hustled out, the clock now a stake through her heart. The bookstore manager, a former ROTC hardass named Ms. Simmonds, took pride in making punctuality a competitive blood sport. The campus bookstore was less a bastion of learning than a den of retail Darwinism. At the register, Elara could see the line before she was even in uniform. Simmonds eyed her from across the counter, arms folded, mouth a razor-thin line. “You’re late.” “Sorry, Ms. Simmonds. Printer issues.” “Save the excuses.” Simmonds’ hands moved fast, handing Elara a crumpled name tag. “We open in sixty seconds. Try not to trip over yourself.” Elara ducked into the back, yanked on the regulation polo, and shoved her backpack into a cubby with the force of repressed rage. She stabbed the name tag through the fabric, catching her finger in the process. Blood welled up. She sucked it, eyes stinging, and joined the front line just as Simmonds flung open the register lights. The first customer was already on the offensive. “These were supposed to be buy-back eligible,” said a sophomore in U of A sweats, brandishing two water-warped textbooks. Elara forced a smile. “Do you have the receipts?” “No.” “We can still scan them, but—” The scanner rejected the ISBNs. “Sorry, these aren’t in the system,” Elara said. “Bullshit.” The kid leaned in. “You’re just being lazy.” Elara shrugged. “Call corporate. Have a nice day.” She did not have a nice day. The next hour was a medley of shattered patience: a football player who tried to return a book with forty pages missing, a grad student who argued about the price of a lab manual like he was haggling at a flea market, and a retired faculty member who complained that the coffee was “too liberal.” Her phone, tucked deep in her jeans pocket, vibrated like it was trying to escape. Fin: “I need the slip. Now.” Chloe: “When are you picking me up???” Fin: “Coach is mad. You’re gonna ruin everything.” Elara’s hands trembled. She miscounted the customer’s change, then dropped three dollars on the floor. Simmonds appeared from nowhere, eyes sharp as a stapler. “Step it up, Vance.” “Sorry.” “Customers don’t wait. We do not mess up the till.” “Yes, ma’am.” Simmonds drifted back to her lair, but Elara felt her watching, a low-pressure system of disappointment hanging over every transaction. She made another mistake at 1:47: double-scanned a textbook for a freshman with a mop of orange hair and a stutter. The kid noticed, politely, and Elara flushed crimson as she voided the extra charge. Her eyes burned. Her palms itched. She wondered if you could get an ulcer at 22 or if you had to wait until midlife to actually rot from the inside out. Another hour. Another stack of inane returns. The day crawled like a slug through salt. At 3:10, Ms. Simmonds sidled up behind her, breath cold as Wite-Out. “Let’s talk.” Elara followed her to the back, nerves jangling like Christmas bells. “You’re off your game,” Simmonds said, voice flat. “This isn’t the Vance I hired.” “I’m fine.” “No, you’re not. Your drawer is off, you’re late, and you look like you haven’t slept since Rush Week.” Simmonds paused. “I like you, but I don’t need dead weight. Get your head back in the game or don’t bother coming back tomorrow. Got it?” Elara nodded, unable to trust her voice. Her heart hammered. Her face felt hollow. “Good,” Simmonds said. “Now take your break.” Elara slipped into the employee restroom and locked the door. She pressed her back against the cold tile and let out a silent scream. For sixty seconds she did nothing but breathe—shallow, snotty, barely-in-control breaths. She checked her phone. Fin: “Are you getting the slip?” Chloe: “You’re late.” Fin: “Why are you ignoring me?” She deleted the whole thread, then texted Fin a photo of the slip with the words “HAPPY NOW” in all caps. She didn’t bother to check for a reply. Back out front, the rush had died. She bagged three orders, wiped down the counter, and counted down the drawer with trembling hands. Simmonds watched from the office, not unkind but unmovable. Her shift ended at 4:02. She peeled off the uniform, stuffed it in her bag, and walked out without saying goodbye. Outside, the Arkansas sky was the color of an old bruise. Elara closed her eyes, counted to ten, and braced herself for the next round. It took less than five minutes for Elara to regret not dying in the bookstore stockroom. The after-work traffic was pure sadism; she wove through two fender benders and three separate construction zones, arriving at the junior high exactly three minutes late. Chloe stood on the curb, performing a slow clap as Elara pulled up. Next to her, Fin sat cross-legged with a thousand-yard stare, thumb flicking off frantic texts to their mother. “Three minutes late,” Chloe announced, folding herself into the passenger seat with all the gravity of a Nobel laureate. “Get in,” Elara snapped. Fin slumped into the back, instantly broadcasting his disapproval by way of loud, deliberate sighs. Before Elara even finished buckling, her phone buzzed on the dash. Mom: “Kids said you were late. Is everything okay?” She gripped the wheel until her knuckles ached. “Next time you’re waiting, you can walk,” she said. Chloe rolled her eyes. “If I walked, I’d get kidnapped or murdered. It happens. Statistically.” “Not to you,” Fin said. “You’d talk your way out of it.” “Or bore them to death,” Elara muttered. Chloe huffed and turned up the radio, cueing up a K-pop station that made Elara want to grind her molars into paste. They were barely onto the main road before the bickering started. Fin went first, complaining about his math teacher: “She hates me. She gave me a zero for showing my work because it was messy. What kind of psycho does that?” “Maybe if you did the work right,” Chloe said, “she’d like you better.” Fin snorted. “Like your teachers love you?” “They do. I’m teacher’s favorite.” “You got detention last week for vaping in the bathroom.” “Only because Sarah snitched,” Chloe shot back. “She’s dead to me.” Elara’s temple throbbed. She tuned out, let the voices turn into white noise, but even that was too much. At the third stop sign, the argument reached a fever pitch. Fin accused Chloe of stealing his charger; Chloe accused Fin of being a “walking human L.” Their voices crested, overlapping, each determined to drown the other out. Elara slammed on the brakes. “Both of you. Shut up. Five minutes. I want five minutes of silence.” They stared at her, shocked into brief stillness. The peace lasted seventeen seconds. Fin whispered something about Chloe’s hair, which Chloe responded to by elbowing his seat. Elara considered, for a moment, driving into oncoming traffic. She didn’t, but the urge was primal. At home, nobody thanked her. Chloe stomped upstairs to FaceTime with her boyfriend, and Fin made a beeline for the Xbox, leaving a trail of wrappers in his wake. Elara gave herself thirty seconds of silence before dragging Fin back to the kitchen. She dropped his algebra worksheet on the table. “Let’s do this.” Fin slouched, already halfway to surrender. “It’s all just x’s and y’s. None of it means anything.” “That’s because you don’t show your work,” Elara said, stabbing at the paper with a pen. “Do the first problem.” He stared. She stared back. It became a contest of will, neither blinking, both waiting for the other to break. After a minute, Fin scrawled out a half-assed answer. “Wrong,” Elara said, maybe too fast. “Try again.” He scribbled the same thing, slightly larger. “No,” she said. “You’re not even trying.” Fin shoved the paper away. “You don’t get it. You’re good at this stuff. I’m not.” She almost said “you’re not good at anything,” but bit it back. “You don’t have to be good. You have to try.” He looked at her with such naked resentment it almost scared her. Chloe materialized, voice booming: “I need glue. Like, now.” “Not a great time,” Elara said. “It’s for my project. It’s due tomorrow. Are you gonna make me fail?” Elara massaged her forehead. “Fine. After you finish your math, Fin, I’ll help Chloe.” “I’m not doing the math.” “Then you’re not playing Xbox,” Elara said, instantly regretting the escalation. Fin grabbed the worksheet, crushed it into a ball, and lobbed it into the sink. “I hate you.” “Noted,” Elara said, already too tired to care. She turned to Chloe, who was wielding a glue stick and a sheaf of glitter paper. “What’s the project?” “Ecosystems,” Chloe said. “I have to make a diorama. I’m doing a rainforest.” “Rainforests don’t have glitter,” Elara said. Chloe leveled her with a dead-eyed stare. “Mine does.” Fine, Elara thought. Let the rainforest sparkle. She spent the next hour juggling Chloe’s project and Fin’s math worksheet, every minute stretching her patience thinner. Chloe demanded more glitter, then complained there wasn’t enough. Fin finally did his math, but spelled “algebra” wrong on the heading. At seven, Elara microwaved three dinners—one for each sibling, never eaten together. She handed Fin his plate, set Chloe’s in front of her iPad, and ate hers standing by the sink. There was no gratitude. There never was. But she didn’t do it for thanks. By nine, the house was mostly quiet. Chloe was deep in a group chat, Fin asleep on the couch with the Xbox remote in his hand. Elara sat at the kitchen table, textbooks arrayed in front of her, and stared at the homework she’d put off all week. She opened the first chapter, tried to read, and realized she couldn’t remember a single word from the page. Her mind spun with all the voices, all the noise, and all the things she’d have to do again tomorrow. She pressed her palms into her eyes until the world went black and silent, and for the first time all day, she almost felt relief. # Scene 5 After dinner—which wasn’t really dinner so much as three reheated Lean Cuisines and a plate of stale cookies—Elara called Fin and Chloe to the table for Round Two of the academic death march. The kitchen was a horror show: glue stuck to the laminate, a thin mist of glitter over everything, and a dense fog of sweat and defeat hovering near the ceiling. Fin’s math homework refused to die. He glared at the worksheet like it owed him money. “I don’t get it,” he said. “I literally don’t.” Elara set her own notebook aside. “Which problem?” “All of them.” “Let’s start with number six.” He groaned, but wrote down what she dictated. As soon as she turned to check Chloe’s progress, he drifted, sliding into YouTube on his phone and pretending not to see her watching him. Chloe, meanwhile, was in meltdown mode. Her rainforest diorama—painstakingly assembled, then unceremoniously trashed by an errant swipe of Fin’s sleeve—was now a pulp of wet cardboard and sludgy glue. She started over with loud, dramatic sighs, punctuated by the occasional muttered curse. “Elara, it’s ruined,” Chloe wailed. “I’m gonna fail. My grade will be trash.” “It’s fine, just start again.” “You don’t get it. You’re a genius. Some of us have to try.” Elara thought about correcting her, but didn’t have the energy. By 9:15, Fin had finished exactly four problems and watched thirty minutes of speedrun videos. Chloe had built a new, slightly uglier rainforest, this one heavy on the glitter and light on the actual ecosystem. “You can go to bed,” Elara said, pointing at Fin. He didn’t argue. He closed his book with the air of a man acquitted, then shuffled off to his room. Chloe lingered, gluing fake leaves to the shoebox with excessive force. “Are you going to tuck me in?” she asked, the edge in her voice masked with practiced innocence. “Just this once,” Elara said. She waited until Chloe had retreated upstairs, then swept the table clear of the worst disasters and wiped her hands on a paper towel already soaked in microwaved chicken grease. She checked her phone: four new texts from Mom, two from a group chat she hadn’t read in months, and one from Ms. Simmonds, written in all-caps: “GOOD JOB ON TILL COUNT. SEE YOU TOMORROW.” She didn’t reply. The house was dark and mostly quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the faint, ghostly strains of K-pop from Chloe’s room. Elara opened her own laptop and tried to study. She really tried. The words on the screen wobbled, then overlapped, then became a sludge of unfamiliar terms and half-remembered diagrams. Her notes from class were a graveyard of blue pen and coffee stains, the margins filled with half-written grocery lists and fragments of snarky commentary. She picked out a single phrase—“competitive inhibition = survival of the laziest”—and almost laughed. Twenty minutes later, she gave up. She set the alarm for 5:30. She plugged in her phone. She thought about getting undressed, but the idea of lifting her arms above her head seemed as likely as splitting an atom by wishing. So she just lay down on her bed, fully clothed, one shoe on and one shoe off. Her arm dangled to the floor, the hand limp and open like it was waiting for someone to take it. She closed her eyes. In the darkness, her mind began to assemble tomorrow’s to-do list: pack Fin’s permission slip, print Chloe’s field trip form, buy real food, show up at work on time, get at least one question right on her own biochem exam. The list grew and grew and grew, multiplying like unchecked bacteria, until finally, mercifully, sleep came to shut it all down. She didn’t dream. There was no energy for that. But in the quiet, she knew: she’d do it again tomorrow. Because that’s what survival was, in the Vance house. Not grace. Not even hope. Just showing up, and showing up, and showing up, until the rest of the world learned to keep up.

Oh, my goodness, y'all. I had the most amazing time last weekend!! Thursday night I drove over to a friend's place. We've been planning a Little's retreat for a month or so. We all ordered dips, bottles, pacis, and other little things and brought them. It was just me and another friend who's both a little and a caregiver, and we were both padded the whole time! It was life-changing! I watched Bluey for the first time, we colored, and she changed my diaper every time I needed it. I regressed harder than I ever have before. I giggled with absolute bubbling-over glee so much. I've been trying to figure out how I feel about diapers for years now, and I finally feel like I have a proper hold on what I want. I love wearing all day, and getting changed. I like wetting a lot, and messing isn't as bad as I made it out to be! It's been an incredible thing to experience after all these years. I'm so, so thankful for my friend for giving me a space to be little and padded for a good few days. I regressed harder than I ever have before. When I was changed by my friend, I would hide myself and giggle and squirm like I was being held down and tickled, but I was only being praised and changed. I got some new baby toys that I absolutely adore, and watched Bluey and She-ra for the first time. I got to babble and giggle and go nonverbal and it was encouraged and nurtured. I have so many feelings about wearing diapers for so many reasons. As a trans woman, it's gender affirming to "need" diapers from a small bladder. As an autistic person, I love the sensations of the padding, the crinkling, the warm swelling, and the firm mushes. As someone with an anxious tummy and without a gallbladder, security in being able to mess and know that it's contained and that I don't have to rush or clench. I think I want to wear 24/7. I've been fascinated with the idea for years, and the weekend was an example that it is possible, and I genuinely enjoy it. I'm still scared, but I'm so much more excited and determined to find where diapers fit in my life.

Little Bee: Chapter 1 Note: this story takes place in the world of “Classified: A New Life” as written by Brutal_Ink. I hope that I can do justice to their wonderfully creative work and compelling world setting. Credit as well to @destinedfordiaperstories on Tumblr for expanding the world with their phenomenal story “Sammy’s Little Problem” Classification Day. If there were two words that struck more dread into the heart of an 18 year old, nobody had spoken them yet. Classification Day, also known as the last day of Senior Year, was the day that every high school senior would find out what their future would look like. The graduating class received their test results today, and would be classified as Caregivers, Littles, or Neutrals based on a wide variety of testing of genetic markers, enzymes in the blood, and various other measurements, profiling, and characteristics, both biological and mental. The CGL Gene that was discovered after the evolutionary shift in humanity that had become known as the Great Mutation usually began to manifest after the age of 18, so the school year was scheduled to end shortly before graduating students would begin to see the changes their genetics would make to their bodies and minds, which is why test results were given out towards the end of the last day of school. Caregivers developed powerful instincts to care for those in need, as well as higher physical strength to aid them in this task. Caregivers often, but not always, adopted Littles and made sure they were happy and safe. Those that did not adopt always pursued careers that cared for and protected others. Littles were the opposite, they found themselves regressing to an earlier stage of childhood and losing varying degrees of muscle mass, motor skills, emotional regulatory abilities, and toileting skills as most found themselves effectively incontinent and irrevocably requiring diapers at all times. Level 1 Littles regressed the most, and were essentially infants. Level 2 Littles retained the vast majority of their motor skills and other faculties, their largest sectors of regression being a complete loss of potty training and significant reduction of their ability to keep their emotions under control. Tantrums were common among Level 2 Littles, and they all needed diapers as well. Level 3 Littles regressed the least, retaining much of their emotional control as well as their potty training in many cases. While some still needed diapers, many level 3 Littles needed only Pull Ups for the occasional accident, as well as nighttime, with some even being able to wear normal underwear. Neutrals saw no changes, and were essentially the same as Humans before the Great Mutation, accounting for slightly more than half of the total population. Jamie Holbrook stood in the school’s Common area, feeling a bit of trepidation. She was quite attractive, many would say cute. Petite, slender, and a Ginger, Jamie stood only 5 feet, 2 inches (157 cm) tall and weighed around 108 pounds (49 kg) if she were soaking wet and had a brick in her pocket. Jamie’s alabaster skin was dotted with freckles, and she wore her red hair in twin braids. Behind her oval-rimmed glasses, her green eyes were focused on the pristine white envelope she held. She was about to see what the future held when a piercing shriek resonated through the Commons. Apparently, Chelsea Taylor, known as the Queen of Mean, had received her results. Chelsea was one of those kids that had everything handed to them, and didn’t know what honest work even was. Chelsea’s family was wealthy, and she herself was stunningly beautiful. Tall and blonde, she knew how gorgeous she was, which was probably the root of her long list of character defects. She was an entitled, spoiled brat that thought she was better than everyone else and frequently asked if they knew who she was or who her father was and had tormented Jamie’s small circle of friends from as early as First Grade. Like Jamie, Chelsea came from a long line of Neutrals, so the results of her being a Neutral as well were all but guaranteed. Furious, she stomped up to the lab technicians that had been charged with distributing the test results. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? There is NO WAY this is right! Do you not even know how to run a blood test?” she demanded to a woman wearing a lab coat, her black hair in a tight bun. “I’m sorry, Miss…” “Taylor! CHELSEA TAYLOR! Do you know who I am?” This kind of scene was all too common on Classification Day. When someone couldn’t accept what their test results were, the responses were usually grief or extreme anger. One could teach a college level course on the Five Stages of Grief simply by observing students on Classification Day. Clearly, Chelsea was still in the first stage: Denial. The lab tech had seen this exact scene play out time and time again, a scene Jamie was watching. “No, Miss Taylor, I don’t know who you are. What seems to be the problem?” the tech asked, knowing perfectly well what the problem was. Right on cue, Chelsea moves into the second stage: Anger. “It’s these bullshit results! Level 1 Little? With all the Neutrals in my family? How could you get something so simple this wrong?” she shouted. Blinded by her anger, the Queen of Mean had no idea she had just spilled the most delicious tea that this class of Seniors had ever heard as she continued her tirade. Chelsea was one of those unpopular popular girls that was firmly entrenched in the top 5% of the social hierarchy, with the other 95% hating her due to her entitled attitude and Godzilla-sized superiority complex. Jamie noted that Chelsea had moved into the third stage: Bargaining. She was making good progress. If she had applied herself this much to her studies, the academic world would be losing quite the scholar with her soon transitioning into a Level 1 Little. “There…there has to be some mistake, right? This isn’t supposed to happen, maybe….maybe you could run the tests again?” The lab technician sighed heavily. This part was never easy. “Miss Taylor, I understand that these results are upsetting, it’s only natural. However, I can assure you that, as difficult as this is to hear, they are accurate. Our testing is exhaustive, the results triple-checked for accuracy. However….” the tech writes down a number on a sticky note and gives it to the fallen princess. “If you call this number you can request further review. For now, I suggest you report to the Nurse’s office, as you will need to be properly diapered before you leave here, you will begin to see changes very soon, so you had best be prepared. Good day.” Jamie couldn't believe what she had just witnessed. Where was this lab tech all her life to smack Chelsea down when she was….well, being Chelsea? The now-deposed Queen of Mean lowered her head for probably the first time in her life and shuffled by Jamie and a few other onlookers, having moved on to the fourth stage: Depression. All of them wore expressions of sympathy and pity. Chelsea was a bitch, sure, but nobody deserved this. Her life was essentially over, she would spend the rest of her days as a gurgling infant. The only upside being that she would more than likely no longer remember what she had lost as she endlessly emptied jars of baby food and filled her diapers. She glared at Jamie and hissed “I suppose you think that’s funny?” Before Jamie could respond with something even remotely decent, that any normal human with a shred of compassion or empathy would say, her best friend in the world, Leon, showed that he had woken up today and chosen violence. Leon Black was as nice a guy as you’d ever meet. A loyal and protective friend with long blonde hair and blue eyes, he was always trying to get Jamie to laugh. However, he had a tongue that could cut like a surgeon’s scalpel, and he wielded it with similar precision. He wasn’t one of the popular kids, which is why he and Jamie were friends. That said, nobody messed with him for fear of getting flayed to the bone by his lightning wit. By Sophomore year, he had turned so many of his classmates who had tested him into laughingstocks, the kids that liked to pick on others had decided it was best to just leave him alone. Leon was a wordsmith, and he did not hesitate to serve a plate of gourmet roast to people that clearly had it coming. The boy had simply never met a bear he didn’t want to poke with a sharp stick. Luckily, Leon could also fight, so his fists could cash the checks his mouth wrote. “Come on now, Chelsea, it’s not that bad! I mean, you’ve had people waiting on you hand and foot your whole life, what’s even gonna change,” Leon paused to take a sip of his soda, “besides your diapers, that is?” he said, the brazen teenager clearly getting payback for all these years of Chelsea making their lives tough. Chelsea couldn’t believe it, that this smartass…..NOBODY….would dare speak to HER like that. She opened her mouth to respond, but thought twice and instead launched a slap at Leon’s face. Unfortunately for Chelsea, Leon’s reflexes were almost as quick as his wit, and he swayed back out of range, the Queen of Mean’s attack completely missing him. “Hey! We don’t hit!” Leon shouted in the same tone a parent would use to admonish an unruly child. “Don’t worry Chelsea, no doubt Gucci makes some really cute onesies and frilly diaper covers. You’ll be just as fashionable as ever, I’m sure!” Rather than continue her fruitless battle against an unconquerable foe, Chelsea concedes defeat, but not before making one last attempt to save some of her soon-to-be nonexistent dignity, once her days became focused on bottles, burping, baths, and blowouts. “If someone like ME is Level 1,” she spat, “Then there is no way that a smart-mouthed, evolutionary dead end like you could possibly be anything else but Level 1 as well.” She then turned on her heel and stormed off towards the Nurse’s Office, where further humiliation in the form of a thick, fluffy diaper awaited her. “Aight, cool, see you at daycare!” Leon called after the departing Chelsea, who paused for a second, then continued on, having clearly entered into the final stage of grief: Acceptance. Jamie, who had been holding her laughter, immediately started in on Leon. She began playfully swatting at her razor-tongued best friend as she laughingly scolded him as she so often found herself doing. “You asshole….you unbelievable asshole,” she said, her voice a loud whisper mixed with laughter. “Chelsea’s as awful as they come, but not even she deserved that! What if YOU end up Level 1?” After parrying the last of Jamie’s assault, Leon grins and laughs before speaking. “Bitch please, I could be classed a Level -100, and revert to a sperm cell they have to inject back into my old man’s nutsack, and that would have still been worth it. If I’m a Level 1, I would meet my fate proudly, for I have at long last slain the Queen of Mean, and now I am awaited in Valhalla. I shall ride eternal, shiny and chrome.” Leon says while posing dramatically with his easy, warm laugh, referencing the film Mad Max: Fury Road. “WITNESS ME!” This is why Jamie loved Leon’s rogueish charm. He treated her as the little sister he never had, even though they were the same age. He always knew how to make her laugh. “You…are SUCH a prick.” Jamie retorted, letting some of her own laughter free of the pit she was forced to banish it to. “Don’t you know Little Abuse is illegal? Forget prison, you’re going to HELL, and I’m going with you for saying this, but that was awesome, Leon.” She couldn’t explain why, but she felt nervous today. At the start of the day, she wasn’t worried about her results. She came from a line of Neutrals even longer than Chelsea, but with what happened to her, a small seed of fear had crept into her heart. “You got your results?” she asked her friend. “Right here,” Leon said, holding up his white envelope. Leon’s family had a pretty good variety of Littles, Neutrals, and Caregivers, so there was a very real chance that he would end up in daycare with Chelsea. For all his cavalier attitude and jovial nature, Jamie knew her friend better than anyone. He was terrified, his joking and boasting a cover. Leon was no fool, he knew what was at stake here. He took a deep breath, and tore the envelope open. With shaking hands, he unfolded the sheet of paper. Leon read the document, his eyebrows raised, then furrowed. Jamie respected Leon’s privacy enough to refrain from trying to peek at the sheet he was reading, but the confusion he felt was unmistakable. “Dude….what the….what the hell?” he asked rhetorically. “Leon, what does it say, man? I know it doesn’t take that long to read one word and maybe a number,” Jamie said. In response, Leon flipped the paper around so Jamie could read it. Written plainly on the sheet was Leon’s Classification: BLACK, LEON JAMES: CAREGIVER. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jamie said, surprised but not that much. “I don’t get it,” Leon said, more confused than anything else. “I’m a soulless monster, not a Caregiver.” Jamie rolled her eyes and sighed, her frustration with her clueless friend peaking. “Dude, have you just not been paying attention for like, your ENTIRE life? Looking back, you’ve had Caregiver signs the whole time I’ve known you.” Jamie said. Leon’s confusion has not yet been pierced. “That’s crazy, what do you mean?” “Well, think about it, you’ve been looking out for me for as long as I’ve known you. When we were kids, and your mom would take us to the pool, who kept on me to keep applying sunscreen so my little Ginger ass wouldn’t get cooked? It was you, Leon. That time in 3rd grade when I forgot my lunch, you shared yours with me. When I stayed over at your house, and that big storm knocked out the power, and I was freaking out because I’m scared of the dark, who was there for me? You, stupid. When I broke my arm Freshman year, you carried my books. Who picks me up every morning for school because I don’t have a driver’s license? You.” “That’s because you’re my best friend, Jamie. You know I love you and I got your back, right?” Leon retorted. “It’s more than that man, you take care of EVERYONE. Yes, you’re an asshole with a smart mouth that I am REALLY surprised hasn’t gotten you killed at this point, but that’s just a front. I KNOW you, we can’t hide from each other. When it REALLY counts, when it REALLY matters, you come through 10 times out of 10. You’re a freakin’ rock, dude,” Jamie explains. Leon nods as he recalls all the moments Jamie reminded him of and realizes that she is right. “Yeah…you’re right, you’re SO right. I’ve always just wanted to help, I guess now I know why.” “Duh.” is all Jamie says. She hands her envelope to Leon. “Here, open that and tell me I’m a Neutral.” Leon takes the envelope and chuckles, “Yeah, right,” he says while opening Jamie’s envelope. After opening the sheet of paper containing the biggest non-spoiler in the history of Classification Day, Leon’s eyes widen for just a moment, then he gets a devilish grin on his face. “You want your results? Come get ‘em!” he says as he takes off down the hallway, away from the Commons. What Jamie doesn’t see are the tears in Leon’s eyes as she takes off after him, shouting “HEY! NO FAIR!” Leon leads Jamie to an empty part of the school hallways, not far from where their former lockers now stand empty, and comes to a stop. Jamie catches up, grinning, and punches him on the arm. “Dick,” she says with a laugh. She takes a moment to catch her breath, and notices that Leon isn’t laughing, he ALWAYS laughs his fool head off when teasing her like this. The seed of fear in Jamie’s heart has now taken root. “Hey man, what’s your problem, what’s….Leon…what’s going on?” she asks, worried. Jamie has known Leon long enough to where she knows when he is and is not messing with her, and the rogueish trickster’s demeanor is completely serious. He takes Jamie’s hand into his and looks into her green eyes. “Jamie, I brought you here because I didn’t want you to find out in the Commons and act up like Chelsea. You’re a Little,” he says, his heart breaking for the cute redheaded girl that has been his best friend from the time they met. They had never even considered dating, because they were too much like brother and sister and didn’t want to make it weird. “I’m sorry.” “What? That’s stupid, I’m gonna get you for screwing with me like this, and I’m ESPECIALLY gonna fuck you up for making me run, and…” Leon cuts Jamie off by simply shoving the piece of paper with her Classification into her hands so she can see for herself. There it was, in plain black and white, unmistakable and final: HOLBROOK, JAMIE LYNN: LEVEL 2/ LEVEL 3 HYBRID LITTLE What little color Jamie naturally possesses in her face vanishes, her features as pale as moonlight. She wasn’t going to shout and curse like Chelsea, but it still didn’t seem real. Her family had been “Oops, All Neutrals” for so long she had begun to question if she even HAD a CGL Gene. With all the subtlety of a haymaker to the face, Jamie now knows that she does, and she knows her CGL Gene’s plans for her future. As the inevitable tears begin to fall, Leon wraps his arms around the petite redhead. Standing at an even 6 feet tall, 10 inches taller than Jamie, he engulfs her in his arms and holds her head close to his chest. At this moment, Leon realizes that he truly is a Caregiver. His heart is torn to shreds for his friend, as he tries to remember lessons and protocol that he only half paid attention to in class. “It’s ok, Jamie, it’s ok, I’m here.” Leon didn’t know much about this whole Hybrid business, but what he DID know was that every Little was sent home in either a diaper or a Pull Up. Accidents were quite common, especially with the anxiety and heightened emotions the Classification of Little tended to cause. Leon knew that the Nurse’s Office was their next destination, before Jamie had an accident herself. Jamie had begun to panic, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged as tears continued to stream down her face. Her voice is meek and timid as she looks up to her friend that could continue to take his first steps into adulthood, while she would never get the chance. Instead, Jamie would be returning to the days of having her diaper changed and early bedtimes. “Leon…what am I gonna do? My dad…he….he HATES L-Littles. He’s a meanie, always…saying such awful things, and…and, there are no Caregivers in my f-f-family to…to take care of m-me. I don’t wanna wear a diaper….” Jamie says between her sobs, her last statement close to whining. Leon can’t explain it, but he KNOWS what to do. His instincts guide him, and he tightens his embrace on Jamie and softly reassures her while stroking the back of her head. “Shhhhhh…..it’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetie. Just listen to my heartbeat, ok? Maybe this Hybrid stuff means you won’t need diapers or something. There’s some Level 3 in your Classification too, you know? We can ask the School Nurse when we see her. Let’s catch our breath, and go there now, think you can do that for me?” he asks, his voice a gentle caress. It becomes clear to Leon from Jamie’s recent use of “no fair” and “meanie” that she is already showing signs of the early stages of her transition, and what she asks him next galvanizes his assessment. “Why?” she asks him timidly. “You know why, Jamie,” he responds. “She’s gonna want to DIAPER me, I don’t need it, I’m not a baby,” she says indignantly. “I know, but they won’t let you leave without protection. I know you don’t need it, but we have to see the nurse. Let’s see if we can get by with a Pull Up, ok?” Leon says to try and placate his friend. “No. I don’t want to. I don’t…” she begins before Leon cuts her off. “Jamie,” he says firmly, “this isn’t something you can refuse. Look, if you fight and try to delay, you’ll only be proving that you DO need to be in a diaper. However, if you play along and don’t fuss, I’ll bet you the Nurse will think a Pull Up is all you’ll need. Come on, honey, work with me here and let’s split the difference, ok?” Jamie hated this so much. She hated how scared and alone she felt, she hated that she had to impose on Leon like this, and most of all, she hated that he was right. She sniffled one last time as she somehow managed to bring her tears under control, and nodded in agreement. “You….you won’t tell anyone what I’m wearing, will you?” Jamie asks sadly. Taking Jamie by the hand and gently leading the stunned, unsteady girl towards the Nurse’s Office, Leon shakes his head. “Come on now, you have to know that I’d never do that to you. We’ve kept each other’s secrets for years, why would I stop now?” “It’s not gonna be a secret for long…” Jamie says, feeling a pout coming on. Leon nods. “Well, when you're right, you're right I suppose. We can deal with that later. For now, it IS still a secret from everyone except you, me, and pretty soon the nurse, so let’s take advantage of the distraction Chelsea so generously provided to make a clean getaway.” Jamie nods as the two friends approach the Nurse’s Office. Mercifully, it is nearly deserted, as all the other Littles have reported in and gone home. Jamie realizes that Leon’s little prank of running off with her Classification results wasn’t just to lure her away so she could hear the news privately. He did it to give the crowd of new Littles needing diapered time to thin out at the Nurse’s Office, so that Jamie could face this trial free of prying eyes and have just a few precious extra moments to prepare herself. Such a shame, she thought, that he wouldn’t be eligible to adopt a Little for several years. He was taking to the role wonderfully, even at this early stage. Still holding Jamie by the hand, who by now has assumed the timid demeanor of a child in trouble, Leon opens the door and gently guides her in. The school nurse, seated at her desk and tapping away at her computer, no doubt updating the student medical files with their new Classifications, looks up at the newcomers. “Well, I thought all the new Littles had already all been seen,” she says in a friendly manner as she gets up and approaches Leon and Jamie. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this over with as soon as possible. Can I please see your Classifications so I know what to get you?” Leon goes first, showing his Classification papers. “Uh, I’m just here to help. You know, support my best friend through a tough time?” he says. The nurse smiles warmly at the kindhearted (but acid-tongued) young man just beginning his journey. “I can already see that you’re going to be a wonderful Caregiver, Mr. Black. If you choose to adopt a Little when you’re able, it’s the most wonderful thing. It isn’t always easy, but it is very rewarding,” she says while Leon nods and subtly steps back while nudging Jamie forward. Figuring out that she’ll need to diaper Jamie, based on the crestfallen teenager’s silence and very noticeable desire to hide, she feels a great swell of pity for the cute redheaded girl. The nurse loved caring for Littles, but seeing them on Classification Day, when they had just had their entire lives upended and their futures rewritten, stolen, some would say, was the absolute worst part of the job. It killed Caregivers like herself to see these kids at this moment, when they needed a hug the most but were still too proud or angry to accept it. “Thank you, Mr. Black, I’ll take it from here. If you could wait outside and close the door, I’ll have your friend ready to go in no time at all. Isn’t that right, Ms…..” Jamie stood silently before realizing that was her cue to speak. “Oh...um…H-Holbrook. J-Jamie Holbrook” she says as she raises her arm to hand over her Classification paperwork. Jamie breaks down in tears and confesses “I’m a Little….” The Nurse’s Caregiver skills and instincts are so finely tuned she has Jamie wrapped in a hug before she can finish her statement, hoping to head off a major breakdown. Jamie does not resist, instead returning the Nurse’s gesture. “Hey, hey, it’s ok, sweetheart, it’s ok. I know everything seems so hard right now, and you may not believe me, but it does get better. It really does, I promise you.” The Nurse takes a look at the shaking, sobbing teenager’s paperwork while still holding on to her. She raises an eyebrow at the unusual Classification results. “A Hybrid? I’m sure that’s very confusing, but it’s not unheard of. Now, let’s get you all set, I imagine you’d like to get home and get some rest, hmm? It’s been a pretty big day after all, but it’s almost over. All the buses will have left by the time we’re done here, so do you have a way to get home safely?” the Nurse asks as she disengages the embrace and takes a step back to size up Jamie. She measures the new Little visually to see what size and style of diaper is right for her. Managing to bring her sobbing under control, Jamie answers the Nurse’s question. “Uh…yeah. M-my friend, Leon, he’s who I came in with. He…he picks me up for school and takes me home. He’s…he’s really good to me. I uh, I don’t have a driver’s license.” The Nurse steps over to a cabinet and opens it. Predictably, it is filled with various kinds of diapers in various sizes. She continues the conversation as she starts extracting various supplies. “Well, that’s for the best. All Littles have their driver’s licenses rescinded when they register as Littles, so that’s one less thing for you to worry about. Okay sweetheart, I need you to get your shoes and pants off, then hop up here so we can get this done” she says, patting the examination table and holding a plain white diaper that Jamie did not doubt would fit her perfectly. “FUCK! This is it!” Jamie thinks to herself as her fight or flight response chooses flight. She backs away from the table, stammering. “W-w-w-wait…just….just a minute…..” she squeaks out. They always did this, every one, every time. As soon as that diaper comes into play, the desperation kicks in. The Nurse sighs, her heart aching for this scared young girl. Still, she didn’t have time for this. “Jamie, honey, I know that this is really upsetting, but I also know that you know that this is going to happen, one way or another. Think of your friend, Leon. Do you really want to have an accident in his car while he’s taking you home, after he’s been so good to you and helped you get through today?” Jamie, threatened with the diaper, jumps at the Pull Up. “I know…it’s just….I’m not ready. I know everyone says that, but….can…can I have a Pull Up instead?” Jamie asks. “Jamie, your Classification is as a Level 2 and 3 Hybrid. We don’t know which aspects are going to be at what levels. It’s too early to say what kind of protection you’ll need, if any. I just want to play it safe, and start at the top. If it’s more than you need, you can step down to something lighter, and there won’t be any messes to clean up. Work with me here, sweetie. These are actually really soft and comfortable once you get used to them. I have to get SOMETHING on your bottom before you can go” the Nurse reasons, trying to lower Jamie’s anxiety before she suffers an embarrassing accident. “I know….I know, you’re right. It’s…just…can’t we go in the opposite direction? Start at the bottom with what goes on my bottom, and I can go up if I need it? I’ll clean up any messes, honest,” she pleads. The Nurse finds what Jamie says next absolutely soul crushing. “Please…please let me pretend I’m still a big girl for a little while longer…” The Nurse’s Caregiver instincts take over, seeing a way for Jamie to salvage at least some dignity from the situation while still getting the adequate protection the redheaded Little requires. “Ok Jamie, we’ll do things your way,” she says, seeing Jamie’s expression brighten just a little bit by the Nurse letting her have her way. “Here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to give you a Pull Up, and I want you to put it on. While you’re doing that, I’m going to put a little starter kit together for you. I’ll give you a few diapers, some Pull Ups, wipes, and powder. This will give you a better idea of what you’ll need when you go to the Little supply store. You can wear what you want, but promise me that if those Pull Ups aren’t enough, you’ll change into a diaper. Tonight, when you go to bed, I want you to strongly consider a diaper. Most Littles need more protection during the night, so please just work with me here, ok honey?” Jamie nods eagerly, ready to comply if it will keep her out of diapers for even a few more hours. She hops up on the examination table, and begins to untie her shoes. As she kicks off her sneakers, the Nurse wordlessly glides by and places an unfolded Pull Up on the table, remaining close in the event her aid is required. Jamie stands, and unbuttons her pants before sliding them down her legs, leaving her in just her t-shirt, socks, and panties. Jamie picks up the clean white Pull Up and examines it, but can’t quite figure out which side goes in the back. She looks to the Nurse, her expression asking for help. “It’s like this, this mark here on the waistband goes in the back, and the longer parts of the stretchy sides are also meant to go in the back, see?” She says before continuing her lesson on basic Pull Up features. “The seams on the side are tear-away, so it’s easy to take off once it gets wet.” She runs her hands up through the leg holes, and stretches the absorbent underpants out while kneeling down. “Now, take off your panties, and step in, please” Still preferring this to an outright diapering, Jamie slips her underwear down her legs and steps into the Pull Up. The Nurse slides it up her legs, and pulls it up tight against Jamie’s petite frame. She then shows the Ginger Little how to run her fingers along the leak guards to make sure those are sitting properly. Jamie is mortified, but complies nonetheless, knowing what the alternative is. “There we are, all snug and protected, as all Littles should be,” the Nurse says with a smile as Jamie bashfully examines her new underwear and moves to get accustomed to the feel. “Feels like…like a really big pad,” Jamie says, wincing. “Still, it’s not so bad. You were right, it does feel really soft.” “See? I told you it would be ok.” the Nurse says as Jamie pulls her jeans back on over the Pull Up and buttons her pants. She then picks her shoes up and finds a chair, and quickly slips them back on before tying the laces. As she is busy with her shoes, the Nurse comes over with a box. “4 Pull Ups and 4 diapers in your size, powder, and wipes. You will need to get to a Little supply store and get some diapers either tomorrow or the next day. I know this seems like a lot, but it can run out really fast if your potty control slips too far, and the Pull Ups aren’t enough. So once you have a general idea of what you need, get to the store, ok honey?” the Nurse tells a furiously blushing Jamie as she hands the box over. As Jamie turns to finally leave, the Nurse has one last thing for the new Little: a red lollipop. “Here, take this as a reward for not fussing too much, I promise it will make you feel better. You can even have it right now,” guessing from Jamie’s shy behavior that she will be the kind of Little that likes to be given permission. Jamie takes the lollipop and thanks the Nurse for her help. She’s still embarrassed to have been essentially diapered by the gentle Caregiver, but knows that in the back of her mind, in the places she rarely has the bravery to go, she’s right. She unwraps her reward and begins to suck on the sweet red candy, and in spite of herself, must admit that it is both very tasty and is already beginning to calm her frayed nerves as she moves to exit the office and rejoin Leon. What she does not know is that the candy is actually laced with a mild anti-anxiety medication meant to calm new Littles on this, the first day of their new lives, and make them better able to handle the difficult conversations and harsh truths that are to come.

Hello! This is a story loosely based on a real experience I had on a day trip to a little beach town where I had some local apple cider. It was so hot outside and the juice was so yummy that I drank a whole bottle very quickly… only I forgot that apple juice (especially local organic hand-pressed type) is a natural laxative. In a tourist town with very few bathrooms available on a busy day in summer, it very quickly created a potty emergency that took over the whole day. I hope you all enjoy this story that was inspired by the event! … “Okay honey do you see anything else you want? We need to pick up the pace if we don’t want to spend all day just seeing the general store.” I resisted the sudden urge to grab every souvenir and piece of candy I could see and gave a hesitant nod, handing mommy the glass bottle of blueberry apple cider I had picked out. We just finished having a big breakfast at a famous local diner to start our day trip but we were already drawn in by the signs for homemade fudge outside of the little shop. We didn’t end up getting any, deciding it made more sense to stop on our way out rather than carrying fudge around on a hot day, but I still couldn’t leave without getting at least one little treat. Mommy was a sucker for my puppy dog eyes and I knew she’d get it for me if I asked. She set the bottle of juice on the counter and paid for it before taking my hand and leading me outside back onto the Main Street. It was a cute little seaside town that we were spending the day in; full of little shops, small niche museums, ocean views, and family-owned restaurants. Vacation days like this were some of my favorite kind because the places were so busy that no one looked twice if they noticed mommy holding my hand, the slight waddle in my walk from a bulky diaper between my legs, or whatever smells might come with it. Even if they did, we’d be lost in the crowd so quickly that they’d forget about it immediately and I’d never have to see them again. It was the perfect environment to blend in and feel like I was just another little boy being taken on an adventure by his mommy. Out on the street mommy moved us into the shade of a tree while she looked at the town tourist map on her phone. As she mentally planned our root for the day I opened my blueberry apple cider and started to chug - the shade not doing much to cool me down in the balmy summer heat. The only saving grace besides the ocean breeze was that I was wearing just a thin blue tank top with bright green shorts. My shirt had a shark in the middle which had already prompted several verses of the “baby shark” song in the car. And even though my outfit helped to keep me cool, it was amazing how difficult it was to regulate your temperature when you had a big plastic-backed diaper taped around your waist. It was not breathable whatsoever, even when fresh and clean, but especially not now when it was already a bit damp. The pee I let out at breakfast had created a humid environment in my pants that was making the rest of my body feel a bit tacky. A few minutes passed before mommy finally looked up from her phone to give me the plan and start heading to our first location. Just as she looked up she saw me guzzle the last bit of juice left in the large bottle, a few sticky drops trailing down my chin and landing on my shirt. Mommy froze for a moment and instantly I knew I did something wrong. I tried to wrack my brain for what rule I broke but I was already feeling a bit regressed just standing there in my wet diaper and my foggy brain was struggling to use adult logic. “Young man! Did I say you could have your juice yet?” Oh… oops. I shook me head slowly and looked sheepishly at my Velcro sandals to avoid her eyes. “You know the rules mister. Vacation doesn’t mean you don’t follow mommy’s rules. You should have waited until I put some juice in your sippy and then mommy would hang onto the rest. I hope this isn’t going to set the tone for the whole day! Because if you aren’t going to listen to mommy then we can just go right home.” She looked down at him and crossed her arms, and as bad as I felt for upsetting her - I also loved feeling like a little boy in trouble. “I’m sorry mommy… I was thirsty…” I mumbled, handing her the empty juice bottle and wiping half of my face with my arm. “And you’re making a mess too! Stay still and don’t touch your face!” She reached into my diaper bag and rifled around before pulling out a wipe. She tossed the empty bottle in the trash can before taking my chin in her hand and roughly wiping my mouth and chin with then baby wipe. The smell and manhandling only added to my regressed state and I felt my maturity slip further and further away. Once my face was clean, mommy threw away the used wipe and pulled out my reusable water bottle. It wasn’t as fun as my sippy cups at home but for discretion she had gotten me a grown up water bottle to use out of the house. Although she did get me one with a spout that’s about as close to a sippy cup as she could find! “Here is your water, that’s all you can have for the rest of the day. No more juice. That’s way too much sugar! Do you know what apple juice does to your tummy when you drink too much too fast? And not let mommy water it down for you?” I shook my head again, knowing that I should probably know the answer but it felt like most of my adult knowledge was buried under hundreds of blankets in the back of my head. Instead of searching for it, I just gave in to mommy and let her be the one with the answers. “Well you’re about to find out, little man. Now come on, mommy forgives you, let’s just focus on having a good day, okay? Be a good little boy for mommy and maybe we’ll even get ice cream later!” I perked up right away at that and smiled, already forgetting about the juice and whatever mommy had said about it. I was going to be such a good boy! I put the water bottle up to my lips and tilted it up out of habit, drinking it with both hands like it was a big metal sippy cup. As I felt the cool water go down my throat, I simultaneously felt a warm wetness leaving my body and soaking into my diaper. When I finished drinking a moment later I handed the bottle back to mommy and she put it in the pouch on my diaper bag. She had her hand out waiting for me to take it but I hesitated a few more seconds before I did, not being able to focus on the request while I was still wetting myself. Mommy knew exactly what was happening and waited patiently for me to finish my peepee and then take her hand before we started down the street towards our first stop - a little historical house with a gift shop. I may have been oblivious to the consequences of what I had done, but mommy was already planning in her head for the inevitable disaster that was on the horizon. Her plan was just to get as many activities in as possible before the storm. And oh, what a mighty storm it would be… To be continued!

The Price of Innocence Chapter 1: The Proposition The air in the old antique shop had been thick with dust and secrets the day eighteen-year-old Sarah found the orb. Its silver surface was cool in her palm, humming with a faint, unsettling pulse. It was a peculiar thing, and as she examined it, the elderly shopkeeper, with eyes that seemed to hold ancient secrets, leaned in conspiratorially. "That one," he rasped, "has a touch of old magic to it. They say it can let you see the world through different eyes... feel what it's truly like to walk in another's skin." Sarah dismissed it as an old man's whimsical sales pitch, but a seed of curiosity was undeniably planted. Tonight, babysitting four-year-old Lily, a tangle of energy and vulnerability, seemed the perfect time for a daring experiment. Lily was a sweet girl, but she struggled with potty training, navigating her days in Pull-Ups and needing thicker diapers for bed. Sarah, with the reckless confidence of youth, saw a unique opportunity. It wasn't just about the thrill of a potential magical swap; it was a chance to step inside Lily’s world, to understand her struggles, and perhaps, to prove that mastering something like potty training wasn't so difficult after all. "Lily," Sarah whispered, a spark of wild excitement in her voice. "Forget boring games. This is my magic toy. The shopkeeper said it might let people swap bodies. What if... you could be a big teenager, and I could be little you? Just for pretend, of course! We could see what it's really like!" To a four-year-old, the idea shimmered like a fairytale. "Really? Be like you?" Lily breathed, her usual bedtime anxieties replaced by awe. "Yep! Just for pretend," Sarah confirmed, holding out the orb, a thrill of anticipation mixed with genuine skepticism. The weight of it suddenly felt significant. "Just touch it with me." A shared touch sent the room dissolving into a nauseating rush of light. When it cleared, Sarah gasped, utterly stunned. She was small, looking up at a world that had quadrupled in size. Her own body stood before her, animated by Lily's delighted giggles. "I'm Sarah! It worked!" squealed Lily, the voice her own teenager's but pitched with a child's pure glee. Inhabiting the taller form, she bounced on the balls of Sarah's feet, unsteady but thrilled. She marveled at her newfound height, the effortless reach to the top of the bookshelf, the simple grace of her long limbs. A wide, childish grin spread across Sarah's face as Lily twirled, her arms outstretched. "It... it actually worked!" Sarah whispered, her tiny hand flying to her mouth in disbelief, her mind reeling from the impossible reality of it. The casual "just for pretend" had evaporated, replaced by a surge of adrenaline and a thrilling, terrifying wonder. "Okay! Game on!" Sarah cheered, her own voice now a reedy, high-pitched sound that felt utterly foreign. A strange mix of fascination and unease churned in her gut. Her hands were impossibly tiny, her movements clumsy in this miniature body. The world had become a towering landscape of giant furniture and distant doorknobs. Yet, beneath the initial shock, her adult mind remained sharp, frantically trying to process the surreal change. For the next couple of hours, Sarah led the play. "Come on, Lily-Sarah! Let's build a tower!" she instructed, her tone firm despite her chirping voice. Lily, surprisingly adaptable, followed her lead, her oversized hands fumbling with blocks and cars. Sarah, enjoying the novelty, patiently demonstrated how to maneuver her own longer limbs, how to open child-proof cabinets, and how to balance on one foot. Lily (as Sarah) stumbled a bit, her stride awkward, but she seemed to enjoy the novelty of her new size and strength, trying to mimic Sarah's (as Lily's) movements. As dusk settled, Sarah felt a growing urgency. She needed to make her point about potty training. "Okay, Lily!" she announced, her voice a little more strained now. "Time for a new game! I'm going to show you how easy it is to go potty!" She looked up at her own body, which now held a familiar four-year-old pout. Her heart sank. This wasn't going to be as simple as she'd hoped. Trying to sound encouraging, she scrambled off the floor and headed for the small bathroom. She pulled down the dry pull-up and used the potty without help, a triumphant smile on her small face. The simple act felt like a victory, a clear demonstration of capability meant for the girl watching from Sarah's height. She emerged moments later, beaming up at her own towering form. "See, Lily?" Instead of inspiration, she was met with a stubborn frown twisting her teenage features. "Hmmph," Lily grumbled, the sound a deep vibration in Sarah's chest that felt deeply wrong. "I don't like that game. You're not playing 'little Sarah' right. I think it's time for bed, and I'm the big helper." Her voice firm with childish authority, Lily declared, "First, let's get your big clothes off and put on your pajamas." She began to gently but firmly undress "little Sarah," praising her for the dry pull-up, like her own mother would have done. Sarah stiffened, humiliation creeping in as her clothes were efficiently removed, her mind racing with desperate strategies to get Lily to swap them back. Lily's gaze then fell on the package of Pampers Baby-Dry diapers next to the bed—the bulky, taped ones used only at night. Seeing this as the ultimate act of control in her game, she insisted on the routine. With Sarah's own surprisingly capable hands, she laid "little Sarah" down on the changing pad. The cool plastic was a shock against Sarah's skin. "No, wait!" she protested, her small voice barely a squeak, tinged with growing panic. "I don't need that! I'm not a baby! We need to switch back now!" But Lily merely smiled, a soft, indulgent expression on Sarah's features. "Silly little Sarah," she cooed. With practiced motions, she unfastened a fresh diaper. The plastic rustled loudly in the silence as the thick, padded bulk was secured around Sarah's waist. The unfamiliar fabric was alien and infantilizing. Every instinct in Sarah's adult mind revolted as her own hands, controlled by a child, secured the tapes. Lily then pulled a soft, pink nightshirt over Sarah's head, the cartoon character on the front another sting of humiliation. "There we go," Lily murmured, echoing her own mother's soothing tone. "All snug and ready for sleepy time." She patted the diapered bottom with a sense of accomplishment before tucking Sarah into the small bed. "Need a song, little Sarah?" Lily asked. Sarah wanted to scream, to demand they switch back. But a heavy, insistent wave of sleepiness, the natural fatigue of a four-year-old's body, washed over her. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy. Lily began to sing a nursery rhyme in Sarah's alto voice. It was surreal, the familiar melody in her own voice feeling both alien and compelling. Despite her fear and distress, Sarah felt herself being pulled down, deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. The singing, the warmth of the covers pressing down, the exhaustion from the long, strange evening, all combined, pulling her down. She drifted off, trapped, the sound of her own voice singing her to sleep. A short while later, Sarah heard Lily's parents' voices. "She's fast asleep," Lily (as Sarah) said brightly. "And she was very good tonight!" Lily's mother chuckled. "Oh, that's wonderful, Sarah! Thank you so much." With a final "Goodnight, sweetie," directed at the sleeping form in the bed, they left, taking Lily and, implicitly, the silver orb with them. Sarah was left alone in the darkened room, the weight of the diaper a tangible, undeniable truth against her skin, the sound of her own voice fading with her fading consciousness, leaving her truly abandoned. Chapter 2: The Unraveling She woke with a gasp to immediate disorientation. The room was vast, the ceiling impossibly high, the furniture looming like giants. Then the physical reality hit her: a heavy, cold dampness pressed against her skin. The crinkle of plastic followed as she shifted. The distinct smell. She, Sarah, had wet the diaper. Shame, hot and immediate, flooded her. A burning tide rising from her chest and spreading through her tiny limbs. It wasn't a dream, was it? No, this was too real. But how could it be? The shopkeeper's words had been a sales pitch, her game with Lily just pretend. Yet here she was, in Lily's four-year-old body. Panic clawed at her throat, a silent scream trapped inside her small chest. Every instinct screamed for escape, for the familiar ease of her adult body, for the autonomy she’d taken for granted. Was she going crazy? Was this some elaborate hallucination? But she heard movement outside the room – Lily's mother's soft, approaching footsteps. She had to play the part. Trapped, helpless, she forced herself to make a small, sleepy whimper, acting the part of a wet four-year-old waking up uncomfortable. "Time for a change, sweetie," Mrs. Gable said with her usual morning kindness, but for Sarah, the routine words were a fresh wave of mortification. This was the start of a brutal routine. The dread intensified as she was lifted onto the changing pad. The sound of the tapes peeling open seemed to echo the tearing of her own sanity. Was this truly happening? Was she really trapped? Or was this just a vivid, prolonged dream from which she couldn't wake? She lay stiff with shame while her body was cleaned. The cool wipe a stark sensation against her skin, a grotesque parody of the self-care she'd taken for granted for years. She was handled like an infant, passive and utterly helpless, her eighteen-year-old mind screaming protests no one could hear. After being cleaned up, she was put into a fresh, relatively thin pull-up for the day, a stark contrast to the thick night diaper. The morning routine continued, a bewildering immersion into the life of a four-year-old. Breakfast was a struggle with tiny utensils and food cut into miniature pieces. Mrs. Gable's patient encouragement felt condescending to Sarah's adult mind. After breakfast, driven by a desperate need to assert some control, Sarah made her way to the bathroom. Her steps were clumsy, her balance still off, but her adult mind was sharp. She managed to pull down her pull-up and used the potty successfully, without assistance. A small surge of triumph went through her, a whisper of her adult self screaming, "I'm still here! This isn't real! I'm Sarah!" But it was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by the looming dread of the rest of the day. The day passed in a surreal haze of childish activities. Sarah played with toys she hadn't touched in years, endured a nap she desperately didn't want, and had to navigate a world built for people half her mental age. Each interaction was a performance, a constant act to hide her true self. But how long could she keep this up? Would she ever wake up? Throughout the day, Mrs. Gable would occasionally chime in with a cheerful, "Time to try the potty, sweetie!" or "Do you need to go potty, Lily-bug?" Each time, Sarah's adult mind would bristle. Of course I know when I need to go! I'm not a baby! The reminders, though kind, felt infantilizing and deeply annoying. She'd dutifully try, sometimes successfully, sometimes not, but the constant questioning grated on her adult sensibilities. When evening came, the dread of bedtime returned. After a quick bath, Mrs. Gable began the familiar process. Despite her successful use of the potty throughout the whole day, Mrs. Gable simply smiled. "Time for your night-time diaper, sweetie. Just to make sure you stay dry and comfy all night." Sarah’s internal protests were silent. She was laid down on the changing pad again, the familiar plastic rustle and the weight of the thick diaper being fastened around her a physical embodiment of her helplessness. This was Lily's routine, and Lily's mother wasn't going to deviate from it just because "Lily" had a surprisingly good day. The sheer, utter helplessness of being treated like a child, as a child, was soul-crushing. Maybe this was real. Maybe she was Lily. The thought was terrifying. The next few days were a blur of growing despair. Waking up as Lily morning after morning, the undeniable physical sensations confirming the persistent reality, extinguished any last hope that this was merely a dream. Throughout the day she tried to control her tiny bladder, but the body felt alien, its signals more muddled with each passing day. Then, it happened during playtime—a sudden, undeniable warmth spreading through her pull-up. She froze, her small hands clenched into fists. A silent scream tore through her mind, overwhelming all other thoughts. It wasn't just observing Lily's accidents anymore; this was her experience, her body, Lily's body, betraying her adult mind with a sudden, uncontrollable warmth that seeped through the fabric, shockingly hot against her skin. The primal humiliation was sickening. Mrs. Gable, ever patient, simply noticed the faint smell, led her to the changing pad, and quietly changed her. "Oopsie," she murmured, a phrase that made Sarah's adult mind scream in silent agony. Amidst the bewildering immersion into Lily's routine, Sarah's adult mind frequently grappled with the limitations of her small body and muddled senses. Once, when attempting to explain how to make a sandwich, she found her small tongue struggling, her adult vocabulary failing her. The complex thoughts dissolved into simple, fragmented sounds. "Bread… peanut… jelly… squish!" was all that emerged, the infantile words mocking her intellect. It was a terrifying sign of the disconnect, a chilling internal battle she fought alone. Was this real? Or was she simply Lily, a very confused Lily, who imagined things? As the days blended, the accidents became more frequent, each one a fresh assault on her dignity and a chilling sign of her losing battle. She’d make it to the potty sometimes, only to lose control just as she sat down, the desperate urge simply overwhelming her. Other times, the urge would simply come too late, or she wouldn't even notice until the tell-tale warmth spread. The feeling of the wet pull-up, then the clean change, became a grim, relentless cycle. She found herself waiting, with a desperate, growing anticipation, for Lily to appear, to return, to somehow bring the silver orb and switch them back. Every morning, she woke with a flicker of hope, her eyes darting around the room for the familiar teenage figure, only for it to be crushed by the familiar dampness of her diaper and the endless, infantilizing routine of Lily's life. Chapter 3: The First Visit Days bled into a week, a monotonous cycle of living in Lily's small body. The world seen from this height felt different, more intimidating. Her thoughts, once sharp, were drained by the sheer effort of controlling Lily’s uncooperative body. Then, one afternoon, the front door opened. Seeing her own body, animated by Lily's innocent energy, sent a jolt of desperate hope through Sarah. "Hi Lily! Ready to play?" Lily asked, her voice Sarah's, a sound both familiar and alien. Seeing her own face look so relaxed, so at ease, twisted something inside Sarah. "Lily! It's me, Sarah! We have to swap back!" Sarah cried, scrambling toward her own body. Her movements were clumsy, her small legs pumping furiously. Lily tilted her head, a look of simple confusion on Sarah's face. "Swap? What are you talking about, sweetie?" she asked, her tone that of a child patiently correcting a confused playmate. "Was that part of our pretend game? It didn't really work, did it?" She giggled, a light, airy sound that was Sarah's laugh. "You have such a big imagination!" "No! It wasn't a dream!" Sarah insisted, her voice too high and reedy for her adult distress. "Remember the silver orb? We touched it together!" Lily just patted her head. "Aw, Lily, you're getting too worked up. It's just a game, remember? I'm the big girl, you're the little girl." She tried to pull Sarah into a hug, but Sarah squirmed away, her eyes wide with a terrifying mix of fear and frustrated rage. Desperate to prove herself, to show Lily the truth of her adult mind trapped in this body, Sarah quickly stood up. She marched to the bathroom, pulled down her pull-up, and used the potty successfully, making sure Lily was watching. She emerged moments later, hands on her hips, a defiant glare fixed on her own teenage body. "See?! I can do that! I'm not a baby! You have to switch us back!" Lily beamed, a wide, innocent smile that held no understanding. "Oh, Lily, you're such a big girl!" she praised, her voice Sarah's, warm and encouraging. "You went potty all by yourself! Good job!" She clapped her hands with genuine enthusiasm, as if Lily had just achieved a major milestone. Sarah felt a fleeting flicker of hope, a desperate spark that perhaps this demonstration had finally broken through. But then Lily continued, utterly oblivious to Sarah's true plea. "Now come here, I'll give you a carry!" Before Sarah could object, Lily casually bent down and scooped her up, tucking her against her hip with an effortless strength that felt utterly wrong. Sarah squirmed, pushing against her own chest, but Lily's grip was firm, her focus already on the dolls she was moving towards. "Big girls carry little girls sometimes!" After they played a while with the dolls, Lily announced, her tone shifting to playful authority, "It's almost bedtime, and big girls like me help little girls get ready. Come on!" she lifted Sarah onto the changing pad and began to efficiently unfasten the pull-up. At that moment, Mrs. Gable appeared. "How's my little Lily doing?" Lily looked up, a bright, triumphant smile on Sarah's face. "Just getting her ready for bed, Mrs. Gable! She was so good today!" Lily patted the pull-up she had just removed. "See? She even kept her pull-up dry almost all day! And she went potty all by herself!" Mrs. Gable cooed, genuinely pleased. "Oh, that's wonderful! My big girl!" she said, kissing Lily's forehead. "And you, Sarah, you're such a great babysitter. Thank you so much for taking such good care of her." Lily beamed, basking in the praise. Then, with calm, practiced movements, she fastened a fresh, thick Pampers Baby-Dry diaper around Sarah's waist. The familiar rustle and weight were a physical embodiment of her helplessness. Sarah lay stiff with rage as her own body, controlled by a child, completed the ultimate act of infantilization while her mother praised the performance. Lily (as Sarah) then gently led Sarah (in Lily's body) back to the bed, effortlessly laying her down and pulling the covers up to her chin. "Goodnight, Lily," she murmured, a sweet, possessive tone in Sarah's own voice. "You played so good today! And learned so much." She chirped again, before walking out the door with her parents. Sarah was left behind, a horrifying uncertainty solidifying in her mind: was this just part of Lily's game, or was she genuinely convinced the "swap" was only pretend? Chapter 4: The Deepening Normalcy Days blurred into a monotonous, unending loop. The initial terror of waking in Lily’s body had dulled, replaced by a deep, insidious weariness. Time itself seemed to warp, stretching out in endless stretches of play and routine, punctuated by the familiar, humbling moments of being changed. Her sense of when things happened, or how long they lasted, began to dissolve. Was it morning or afternoon? Had she been playing with these blocks for minutes or hours? The sharp edges of her eighteen-year-old mind, once so keen and defiant, felt as though they were being relentlessly sanded down by the sheer, unyielding force of childhood. The daily rhythm was inescapable. Mornings began with the rustle of a thick wet night-time diaper being removed, followed by the insertion into a fresh, daytime pull-up. The periodic "Time to try the potty!" from Mrs. Gable, once irritating, became a necessary spark of awareness. Sometimes, in the midst of her increasingly muddled thoughts, the reminder would spark a flicker of awareness, a vague urgency that allowed her to make it to the bathroom, avoiding an accident. She found herself, almost imperceptibly, relying on them. The relief of a dry pull-up, even if prompted, became a small, secret victory. But the victories were hollow, followed by inevitable accidents. The initial burning shame of wetting herself had faded to a dull ache. It wasn't the sudden, shocking gush she first experienced. The pull-ups were so absorbent, so efficient, that the immediate sensation of wetness often didn't even register. She’d be playing, or listening to a story, and then she’d notice it – a slight shift in weight, a subtle sag, the once vibrant patterns on the pull-up faintly blurred or faded where the wetness had spread. The terrifying part wasn't just the physical loss of control, but the erosion of her awareness. Sometimes, she wouldn't even know an accident had happened until Mrs. Gable would gently ask, "Are you wet, sweetie?" and lead her to the changing pad. The process of being changed felt almost automatic now, a familiar ritual that bypassed her conscious mind. The subtle shift in her center of gravity as she was lifted, the cool brush of the wipes, the familiar stretch of a new pull-up being pulled up her legs—these were sensations she had come to accept, rather than actively resist. The initial sharp pang of mortification was dulled, replaced by a hazy, almost uncomprehending embarrassment. Her attempts at complex thought, at recalling memories from her past, were also increasingly fragmented, often interrupted by simple, immediate distractions – a bright toy, a catchy jingle from a TV show, the taste of a sweet snack. The world, once vibrant and intricate through adult eyes, now felt simpler, louder, brighter, pulling her into a child's unfiltered perception. The endless stream of childish conversations, the repetitive games, the constant supervision – it all began to wear down her resistance. The fight she waged internally, the silent screams for her adult self, were slowly being drowned out, pulled under by the sheer, insistent current of childhood's simple demands. She still longed for Lily to return, to reverse the swap, but the desperate anticipation that had once consumed her had morphed into a more resigned hope. Every morning, she still looked for her own teenage form, a fleeting moment of clarity in the soft morning light, but it was always the same: Mrs. Gable, a small, absorbent diaper, and the start of another day in Lily’s endless childhood. The new normal was setting in, and Sarah, trapped, could feel her own self beginning to fray at the edges. Then, one sunny afternoon, the front door opened, and Lily (in Sarah's body) arrived. "Hi Lily! I came to play!" she chirped, her voice Sarah's, but the inflection undeniably that of a joyous four-year-old. She bounced a little on Sarah's feet, then knelt, her eighteen-year-old frame easily reaching Lily's height. "Want to build a super-duper tall tower?" Lily (as Sarah) asked. Sarah felt a vague impulse to create something complex, but her small hands felt clumsy, the blocks slipped from her grasp. She tried to coordinate her movements, but her focus wavered, drifting to the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam. She managed to stack two blocks, then stared at the next, her adult thought to add three more dissolving into a simple urge to knock them down. She knocked the blocks over with a giggle. Lily laughed, a warm, genuine sound from Sarah's own throat. "Silly Lily! That's okay! We'll just build it again! You're so funny!" She easily re-stacked the blocks, her own large hands surprisingly adept, showing a patience that bordered on condescension. "You know, big girls can draw really good pictures too! Want to draw with me?" Lily produced crayons and a coloring book with large, simple shapes. Sarah found herself wanting to sketch a complex landscape, a memory from her past life. But when she grasped the crayon, her small fingers felt clumsy, her drawing amounted to only frantic scribbles outside the lines. The frustration bubbled, but the intensity quickly faded, replaced by the simple satisfaction of the crayon's waxy feel on the paper. As the afternoon wore on, Lily suggested, "Hey, Lily, wanna play tickle monster?" she giggled, her eyes wide with childish mischief. Before Sarah could respond, Lily pounced, her large hands digging playfully into Sarah's sides. Sarah squealed with delighted surprise, her small body writhing playfully. The unexpected laughter, the sudden movements, the sheer sensory overload of the tickling — it was too much for her already regressing control. Her bladder, forgotten in the moment of pure, innocent fun, simply let go. The warm rush spread through her pull-up, a sensation her overstimulated mind barely noticed. The playful squeals continued, now tinged with a raw, almost primitive joy, utterly oblivious to the growing dampness. During the bedtime routine, Lily unfastened the pull-up and paused. the familiar, tell-tale warmth and faint smell of urine became apparent. "Oh, Lily," she murmured, her voice soft with a childlike concern. "Your pull-up is all wet! Were you so busy playing you didn't even notice?" Sarah blinked up at her, a look of simple confusion on her face, a faint flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks, her small hands fluttering nervously. She simply shook her head, flustered and unable to comprehend the question beyond the feeling of being exposed. Just then, Mrs. Gable entered the room. Lily turned to her, her voice bright yet tinged with feigned concern. "Lily had another accident! I don't think she even knew it happened. She was just playing so hard with me. Maybe we should stop trying with the potty for a little while, so she doesn't get sad?" Mrs. Gable looked from the genuinely worried expression on Sarah's face to the small, lost form of Lily, who now looked utterly lost and ashamed, her eyes wide and confused. A faint sadness settled in Mrs. Gable's eyes. "You're probably right, honey," she sighed. "We don't want to make it too hard on her, do we? We can try again later." She gave a comforting pat. "Good thinking, Sarah. Thank you for helping so much." And so, the explicit reminders to go potty from Mrs. Gable ceased. The implicit pressure of potty training was removed, replaced by a resigned acceptance. The constant, physical reminder of the pull-up was there, and while her adult mind still registered the humiliation, it was increasingly muffled by the growing haze of resignation. Without those occasional prompts, Sarah's accidents became noticeably more frequent. Her small bladder simply emptied, often before she even registered the urge. The fight was leaving her, piece by agonizing piece. Chapter 5: The Cognitive Battle More days passed, filled with the ongoing physical humiliation of more wet pull-ups and diapers, a constant need for changing, and the growing confusion of living with a mind that felt increasingly... not her own. Sarah's vocabulary shrank, her patience thinned, simple things fascinated her. She was becoming more and more like a four-year-old. The memory of being Sarah felt distant, like a story she'd once been told. When Lily arrived, a desperate, fleeting hope stirred in Sarah. "Lily! It's me, Sarah! Swap us back! Please!" she pleaded, trying to infuse her small voice with all the desperation of her trapped adult mind. But the words came out sounding rushed, high-pitched, more like an insistent whine. Lily knelt, a parody of thoughtful concern on Sarah's face. "Aw, sweetie, you're still playing that game? It's just pretend. I'm the big girl, remember?" She chuckled, and the familiar sound, coming from herself, twisted in Sarah's gut. "You know, big girls know lots of things. Do you want to learn something with me today instead?" Before Sarah could react, Lily (as Sarah) produced a handful of colorful blocks. "Okay, Lily, let's do some numbers!" she announced, her tone shifting into a playful 'teacher' mode. "If I have two blocks," she carefully placed two red blocks on the floor, "and I add two more," she added two blue blocks, "how many do I have?" Sarah’s adult mind screamed the answer: Four! It’s four! The knowledge was immediate, crystalline. But when she tried to vocalize it, her small tongue felt thick, clumsy. Her mouth formed the sound, but it came out slurred, incomplete. "F-fou... uh..." she stammered, her tiny brow furrowed in frustration. Lily waited patiently, a small, genuinely proud smile on her face. Then she shook her head gently. "No, silly Lily, that's not quite right. Look!" She meticulously counted each block with her own finger. "One, two, three, four! See? It's four!" She looked at Sarah with an innocent expectation, as if Sarah was just a slow learner, not a trapped adult. "Okay, let's try another one! If I have five blocks," she placed five blocks, "and I take away three..." She dramatically swept three blocks aside. "How many are left?" Two! It's two! Sarah’s mind screamed again, the answer burning, clear, obvious. She focused every ounce of her will, every shred of her adult intellect, to articulate it. "T-too!" she managed, a triumph of effort that sounded barely recognizable. Lily giggled. "Almost, Lily! It's two! You almost got it that time! You're getting so smart!" She clapped her hands with genuine enthusiasm, patting Sarah's head. The praise, meant for a developing child, was a fresh wave of humiliation. Sarah's attempts to express complex thoughts, to demonstrate her true intellect, were consistently misinterpreted as childish efforts, met with innocent condescension. The gap between her internal reality and her external presentation was growing wider, a terrifying chasm. "Okay, last one!" Lily chirped, her voice light and innocent, oblivious to the anguish brewing beneath the surface. She counted out ten blocks, then added two more with a flourish. "Now, if I have ten blocks, and I add two more, how many do I have in total, Lily?" Sarah's mind seized. Ten plus two... The numbers were there, but the sum eluded her. She knew it was simple, a basic math fact from her childhood, yet the connection refused to form. Her attention began to fray, the brightly colored blocks before her blurring, replaced by a sudden, intense focus on the warmth of the sunbeam filtering through the window, or the distant chirp of a bird. She tried to pull her thoughts back, to force the answer, but it was like trying to grasp smoke. Panic began to bubble, a hot, frantic feeling that clawed at her throat. She could feel the pressure building within her, a visceral response to the mental block and the unbearable stress of the moment. Her tiny hands clenched into fists, her breath hitched. And then, the ultimate betrayal. A subtle shift in the air, a faint, undeniable odor. This was different. This was new, horrifying, and utterly irreversible. Her bowels, under the immense mental and emotional strain, had simply given way, the soft, thick material of the pull-up doing its job discreetly, containing the mess without visible seepage. She, Sarah, had soiled herself for the first time in years. Lily tilted her head, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly. She glanced down at Lily’s pants, then back up at the little girl's strained face. "Oh, Lily! I think you made a really big mess," she exclaimed, her voice not angry, but a touch grossed out, like an older sister whose little sibling had done something truly unexpected. "Pull-ups aren't for poopy messes. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." A wave of heat washed over her, so intense it felt like her skin was dissolving. The world narrowed to the stifling confines of the soiled pull-up, the clinical gaze from her own eyes in Lily’s face, and the undeniable proof of her complete and utter regression. Not only had she failed the test, not only had her mind betrayed her, but she had regressed in the most primal way imaginable, in front of the very person who held her identity. As Lily led her towards the bathroom, Sarah's small body felt heavy with shame. Mrs. Gable was called, her gentle hand now a source of deep mortification as she efficiently removed the soiled pull-up. The warm, wet cloth against her skin, the intimate process of being cleaned, felt utterly dehumanizing. Lily watched with a detached, clinical interest, occasionally offering a helpful wipe or a sympathetic murmur. Once she was clean, Lily held out a thick, white Pampers Baby-Dry diaper, its plastic crinkle a loud pronouncement of Sarah's new reality. "Pull-ups are just for pee," she explained. "But sometimes little girls make big messes when they're learning new things, so I think, Lily needs a real diaper now, just in case!" Mrs. Gable nodded understandingly. "That's a good idea, Sarah." she agreed, fastened the bulky diaper securely around Sarah's waist. The padded bulk beneath her day clothes was suffocating, a constant, physical reminder of her regression. After the change, Lily abandoned the math questions entirely. "Okay, no more numbers today, Lily! Let's play babies!" she chirped, picking up a soft doll and rocking it. Sarah was then subjected to a series of baby games, being cooed at, rocked, and treated with an infuriatingly innocent infantilization. The attempts at adult thought became even harder, replaced by a dull, almost passive acceptance of the play. As evening approached, the familiar bedtime routine began again. Lily led Sarah to the changing pad. Sarah felt the usual faint dampness in her diaper as it was removed, a wetness she hadn't even consciously registered accumulating throughout the afternoon of baby games. Sarah was trapped, truly trapped, and a cold dread seeped into her bones. The physical proof of her regression – her failing mind and body's loss of control – and the casual, matter-of-fact way Lily handled it, delivered by her own hands, was devastating. It cemented the horrifying thought: maybe she was Lily. Chapter 6: The Choice Another week later. The world had shrunk to the size of a playroom. Time was a fluid, meaningless concept, marked only by the gentle hands of Mrs. Gable, the rustle of a fresh diaper. The daily routine of thick diapers for both day and night had become normal. Mrs. Gable, on Lily's recommendation, had given up on potty training, and Sarah now simply wet her diaper whenever the urge came, often without conscious thought. Sarah's adult mind was a flickering ember, occasionally catching a fleeting glimpse of her past life, but mostly lost in the soft, undemanding routines of toddlerhood. The "swap" felt like a vivid dream. She was Lily. One afternoon, Sarah (in Lily's body) was playing quietly with blocks, stacking them into a small, colorful tower, when Lily (in Sarah's body) entered the room, holding the silver orb. Her expression was different—thoughtful, almost solemn. "Want to play pretend again?" she asked. Sarah felt a ghostly echo of a memory but reached out, eager to play. With a shared touch, the world swam, and she was back. Standing tall. In her own body. A wave of profound disorientation hit her, followed by a terrifying sense of wrongness. This is too big. Too high. She looked down at her long, alien limbs. Her soft silk panties felt impossibly thin, offering no security. A raw sense of vulnerability flooded her. Panic flickered, a childlike fear in a teenage form. "Whee!" she chirped, the sound alien in her teenage voice. She did a clumsy hop, like a four-year-old exploring new limbs, trying to make sense of this strange, oversized body. Her regressed mind, traumatized by weeks of involuntary release, reacted instantly. Her bladder let go, the warm liquid soaking through her jeans. The overpowering smell, the utterly mortifying realization of what she had done—it all flooded her senses. She, Sarah, eighteen years old, had just wet herself. Lily, back in her own small body, watched with a calm expression. Seeing Sarah so panicked and lost in the big body—her body—a strange pity stirred in Lily. "It looks like the pretend game is making you feel funny. You're in a big body but still acting like a little kid. You should be you again." She held out the silver orb, not as a trick, but as a simple, honest solution. "We'd better swap back to make you feel normal again. Like you were before this pretend game made you so silly and sad." Sarah, confused and distressed by the alien tallness and the wrongness of her limbs, didn't hesitate. The inexplicable accident was terrifying, proof this tall body was broken and wrong. Swapping back felt like the only way to return to 'normalcy,' to the body where accidents were just a part of being Lily. "Yes! Swap back!" she cried, reaching for the orb with desperate, oversized hands. With a final flash, Sarah was back in Lily's small body, settling into the familiar, slightly damp diaper she wore. Lily, holding the orb, was back in Sarah's original body, a subtle, unreadable maturity now resting on her features. She looked at the small girl before her, who now seemed content. A faint, sad smile touched her lips. She didn't understand everything, but she knew her friend wasn't scared anymore. The game was over. The switch was complete. Sarah was permanently in Lily's body, her mind regressed, the month of intellectual decline and loss of continence solidifying her new, false identity. She would live Lily's life, wearing Lily's diapers, enduring Lily's accidents with the innocent, uncomprehending shame of a child who genuinely believes she is Lily. The price of her game was the permanent, tragic loss of herself, having chosen her fate because the alternative felt more terrifying—a prisoner of her own making in a gilded cage of childhood. The End

Chapter 1 - She Found Out As a work from home programmer, I had it made. My wife, Susan, was beautiful, big breasted, with red hair and a fiery personality to match. I got to work a few hours a day, and spend the rest of the time doing whatever. We had no kids, something she was biologically unable to produce because of a rare condition, so we spent our money on ourselves. Her bad habit was travel. She was always on the road for work. Sometimes in Europe, sometimes in Asia, and there were multiple yearly trips to Vegas for some stupid conventions. That left me with a lot of time by myself, and I indulge in my vice -- diapers. I had experienced a bedwetting issue during puberty, that reared its ugly head now and then, usually when I drank too much. That exposed me to the solution my parents eventually landed on -- diapers. Now as an adult, I bought and used adult diapers all the time when I was alone. It was my forbidden escape, my stress reliever. One day, when I was home by myself, and Susan was on one of her business trips to who knows where, I was sitting in a very wet diaper in the living room, on a towel on the couch. On the big screen TV I had attached my laptop. On the TV was a vial bi-sexual diaper porn. A naked woman playing "mommy" was "breastfeeding" two adult baby boys as they had their hands in their diaper stroking their cocks. I too had my hand in my diaper watching the sexy scene unfold on screen lost in the moment as I approached orgasm. That's why I didn't hear the garage door open, or Susan quietly walk into the room. "What in the holy fuck is going on here Max? Is THIS what you do when I'm not home?" Susan screamed. My eyes shot open, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Susan stood in the doorway, her luggage dropped to the floor. She was supposed to be in Japan for another three days. Her eyes were wide with shock and anger as they scanned the room—the diaper I was wearing, the towel beneath me, and the explicit scene playing out on the TV. I quickly hit the pause button, my heart racing like a jackrabbit in a cage. "S-Susan," I stuttered, desperately trying to find the right words to explain my humiliating predicament. But before I could form a coherent sentence, she stormed over and slapped me across the face. Hard. Her palm stung like fire on my cheek, and the shock of it sent a jolt through my body, freezing me in place. The TV flickered with the paused image of the "mommy" figure smiling down at her "babies," adding to my mortification. Susan's eyes were blazing with a fury I had never seen before. "How could you?" she spat, her voice trembling with disgust and hurt. "Is this what I've been missing while I'm slaving away for us?" I couldn't meet her gaze. The wetness of the diaper felt like a cold, clingy truth, a stark reminder of my secret life laid bare. "I—I don't know," I murmured, feeling the weight of her accusation crushing my chest. Susan's breathing was heavy, her chest rising and falling with rage. She grabbed the TV remote and turned the volume up, the woman's sultry voice echoing through the room. "Look at yourself, Max," she hissed, pointing at the screen. "This is what you get off to?" Just then, the two adult diaper clad men on the screen began to play with each other, grinding their diaper covered cocks against one another, while the "mommy" encouraged them on. She was fingering her pussy. Susan's jaw was on the floor, stunned with what she was watching. "I-I can explain," I managed to squeak out, my voice shaking with fear and embarrassment. "It's just something I do to relax." As I spoke those words, one of the diapered men in the video untaped the diaper of the other and took his cock in his mouth. I instinctively groaned in delight, forgetting for a split second that Susan was in the room. Her eyes snapped to me, the rage in them now mixed with a hint of curiosity. "Is this what you need?" she said, her voice eerily calm. "Is this why you've been so distant lately?" The question hung in the air, heavy with accusation and pain. I tried to pull my hand out of the diaper, but my cock was still watching the porn, refusing to let go. "Susan, it's not what you think," I whispered, my voice cracking. But she wasn't listening anymore. She was staring at the TV, the scene now depicting the two adult babies in a passionate sixty-nine, their diapers peeled back to reveal their erections. Susan licked her lips. Then one of the men mounted the other, shoving his cock inside him and calling him his "Diaper Slut." That's all I needed to hear. My cock, which had a mind of its own, was triggered, sending me into a very obvious orgasm as I shot load after load of cum into my wet diaper. "Oh my god!" I shouted. Susan spun around and stared at me appalled at the site before her, rage boiling in her eyes. "You're disgusting," she murmured, the words cutting through the silence like a knife. I sat there, my diaper now soaked with cum, feeling more exposed and ashamed than I had ever felt in my life. The scene on the TV continued, but it was as if someone had hit the mute button. All I could hear was the hammering of my heart and the harsh sound of my own ragged breaths. Susan stepped closer, her eyes never leaving mine. "Do you know how much this hurts me?" she whispered, the anger in her voice now replaced by something else—something that scared me even more. "I-I'm sorry," I choked out, the reality of the situation crashing down around me. "It's just... a thing. It doesn't mean anything. It's just for fun." "Well I'm going to show you just how much you're hurt me today with this... with this... whatever it is." In a swift motion she unbuckled her black leather belt and pulled me up off the couch. She sat down in a close by chair and pulled me over her lap. In what seemed like no time she had pulled down the back of my diaper and began spanking me as hard as she could with her belt. The sting was intense, each smack echoing through the room. The sound of the leather slapping against my bare ass was like a drum beat of humiliation. I couldn't believe this was happening. The pain grew with each hit, and my body jolted with every strike, but my cock remained stubbornly erect. "You want to be a baby?" she sneered, her hand rising and falling in a rhythm that was punctuated by my grunts and yelps. "Then I'll treat you like one." I didn't know how to process that statement, all I knew was that the beating continued without end. My ass was on fire, moving from pale white, to pink, to deep red, to spots of purple. "I can't believe this is what you do behind my back," she said with each smack. "What else are you hiding from me?" With that she threw me from her lap onto the floor. I was sobbing now, rubbing my abused ass. I looked up at her, tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry," I whispered again, not knowing what else to say. Susan's expression softened for a moment, but then it was as if she remembered her anger. She stood up and walked over to me, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my face to look up at her. "You're going to tell me everything," she said, her eyes cold. "Everything you do when I'm not here. Every little detail of your pathetic little life." "Yes... mommy." The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them, a reflex from the porn I had been watching. But as soon as they were out, I realized they weren't just a slip of the tongue. Some part of me craved the role Susan was playing, the power and control she had over me in this moment. The rage in her eyes flickered with something new, something darker, and she tightened her grip on my hair. "That's right," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You're going to tell me everything, and then maybe, just maybe, I'll decide if I even want to stay married to a man who's been hiding in diapers like some kind of... some kind of sicko." I nodded, tears still streaming down my face. The pain from the spanking was intense, but the fear of losing Susan was even worse. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "It started after my accident when I was younger. I just... I can't help it." "Look, I know you've wet the bed a few times in our marriage, mostly when you went through that depression and drank too much, but this?" "Actually, it happens more than you know. You're just gone so much, and we're never intimate in the mornings, so you've never noticed that I've been wearing a diaper off and on for a few years now." That wasn't the right thing to say, I could see it in her eyes. "Every morning?" she asked, her grip on my hair loosening slightly. "You've been wearing diapers for years and you didn't think to tell me?" Susan's other hand slapped me across the face. "How could you keep this from me?" she yelled, her voice shaking. "How could you be so...so...twisted?" The force of her slap sent my head spinning and my eyes watered. "It's not like that," I managed to croak out, the sting of the truth burning my tongue. "It's just something that...I don't know." Susan's expression was a tumult of emotions—fury, betrayal, and a hint of something else. "Get up," she ordered, her voice laced with a firmness I rarely heard from her. I struggled to my feet, my legs wobbly and my ass throbbing with pain. She pointed to the corner of the room. "You're going to stand there," she said, "and think about what you've done. But first, tell me where you hide all this stuff, because I want to look at it all." I mumbled, "In the back of my closet. On the floor." Susan let go of my hair and walked over to our bedroom, leaving me to stand in the corner, my diaper still hanging open and my cock still hard. The coldness of the room made my skin pebble, and the pain from the spanking was a constant throb in the back of my mind. I could hear her rummaging through the closet, tossing things around, and then she emerged, her arms filled with diapers, baby bottles, pacifiers, and a few other...toys, including my spanking paddle, and a long, black dildo. "What in the fuck, Max?" Her voice was a mix of rage and disbelief as Susan dumped the contents of my secret stash onto the bed. She held up the spanking paddle, her eyes narrowed. "You've been playing with this?" I only nodded. "Well then let's get some use out of it." With that she sat on the end of the bed and pulled me back over her lap for the second spanking in the last 10 minutes. It was a leather paddle made for spanking that I bought at a local porn shop. It even said "SLUT" in red letters. As she raised it high, I felt a mix of terror and something else...excitement? The first smack was like a bolt of lightning on my already tender flesh. "You're going to get ten," she announced, her voice firm, "and you're going to count them out loud." The spanking was a symphony of pain and pleasure, each blow making me flinch and whimper, the sound of the leather on my skin punctuating the silence. "One," I managed to choke out, my voice shaky. "Two." The pain grew with each number, but so did my arousal. It was a confusing mix of emotions, but I couldn't deny that the sting of the paddle was turning me on. As Susan brought it down again, she said, "And you're going to tell me everything about this little... hobby of yours." The third smack hit me harder than the others, making me gasp. "I've been wearing them because it... it makes me feel safe," I confessed, the truth coming out in a rush. "When I'm stressed or anxious, it's like... I don't know, it just makes everything okay." "I'm supposed to do that for you, Max!" The fourth hit was the hardest. "Four," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's not just the diapers. It's... the whole experience. The way it feels, the smell, the warmth." I could feel the wetness spreading in the diaper with every smack. "And the humiliation," I admitted, my voice barely above a murmur. "It turns me on." Susan paused, as if she was thinking. Then the spanking resumed with extra ferocity. "Five," I called out, biting my bottom lip to keep from screaming. "Six. Seven." Each number grew softer as the pain became too much to handle. I began openly sobbing. Susan paused, looking at me with a mix of anger and something that looked almost like pity. "Why?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why would you need this?" "It just... it feels right," I managed to say between gasps. "It's like... it's like I'm being punished for something I don't even know I did." Susan's arm paused mid-air, the paddle hovering over my crimson ass. "Punished?" she echoed, her tone skeptical. "Yeah," I choked out, "It's like... it's like I'm being disciplined. It's a release." Susan's grip on the paddle tightened, her knuckles white. She brought it down again with a sharp crack, making me yelp. "You want discipline?" she spat. "You're going to get it." The final few blows were in quick succession and harder than ever. They made me squirm and cry harder than ever before. "Ten," I whimpered, my voice a pathetic wisp. She tossed the paddle aside and stood up, her expression unreadable. "Take it off," she said, pointing to the diaper. "Take it all off." I complied, my trembling fingers working to untape the soggy mess. The cool air hit my skin, making me shiver. I felt more exposed than ever before. The diaper fell to the floor with a wet slap, leaving me naked with my obvious hard on. "Now, tell me why you do this," Susan demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. My body was a canvas of pain, but the fear of losing her was the most overwhelming feeling. "It's just something that started when I was a teenager," I began, my voice shaking. "After the accident, it was like... a comfort thing." Susan's eyes searched my face, looking for something—understanding, maybe. "But you didn't tell me," she said, her voice tight. "You kept it all hidden from me." "I was afraid," I admitted, my voice small and pathetic. "I didn't think you'd understand." Susan's face softened a fraction, but the anger didn't leave her eyes. "Understand? Max, I'm your wife. I'm supposed to understand you, support you." "But it's so weird and embarrassing," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think you'd be able to handle it." Susan sighed, her eyes scanning the pile of diapers and toys on the bed. "I don't know if I can," she said, her voice filled with a sadness that cut through me like a knife. "But I'll try." "What... what does that mean? Does that mean you won't throw all this away? Does that mean you're not divorcing me?" Susan looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. "It means," she began, her voice measured, "that I want to understand. I want to know why you need this. Maybe there's something I can do to help you. Or maybe..." she trailed off, her gaze lingering on the diapers and toys, "maybe there's something here for me too." My cock heard that answer before my brain did and rose to attention. Susan noticed, her eyes flickering down to my crotch before snapping back up to my face. "What the hell?" she said, her voice filled with confusion and a hint of revulsion. "He... uh... has a mind of his own." Susan stared at my erection with a look of horror, but I couldn't bring myself to be embarrassed anymore. I was too relieved she wasn't immediately kicking me out or calling a lawyer. Then she did something I never would have expected. As she began undressing she started talking in a measured and serious tone, "Honey, you know that I can never give you a baby. It's impossible. That's why we've never worried about condoms. There's no need." I nodded my head. I was lucky there. "But maybe you can give me a baby?" By this point she was down to her underwear. She had a hot red thong on, and a matching bra that was trying but failing to contain her enormous tits. "What... what do you mean?" Her eyes met mine, a fiery intensity burning within them. "I mean," she said, her voice low and deliberate, "that maybe there's something in this...this lifestyle that we can explore together." My heart pounded in my chest as Susan reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting her breasts spill out. They were magnificent, full and firm, the nipples erect with arousal. She slid her thong down her legs, revealing her bare pussy, already glistening with wetness. My cock throbbed in response, the pain from the spanking forgotten in the face of her sudden openness. "Maybe you can be my baby, Max? I'll diaper you, feed you, spank you when you're bad. You could even suck on my boobs and see if they eventually produce milk." My cock jumped at that suggestion. "But first... fuck me one last time as my husband." Without thinking about what that meant I pushed her onto the bed. Her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and desire as she fell back onto the soft mattress. I climbed over her, my body trembling with anticipation and fear. The smell of her arousal mixed with the faint scent of the diaper, creating an intoxicating aroma that fueled my need. My cock, still hard despite the pain, found its way to her wet opening, and I slammed into her with an urgency that surprised us both. She gasped, arching her back, her breasts bouncing as she wrapped her legs around my waist. The pain from the spanking was a distant memory now, replaced by the fierce pleasure of Susan's warmth enveloping me. Her nails dug into my back as I pounded into her, her moans growing louder with each thrust. The bed creaked beneath us, a rhythmic soundtrack to our desperate coupling. I could see the shock slowly morph into something else in her eyes—desire, mixed with a hint of the love that had always been there. My hips moved faster, driven by a primal need to claim her, to show her that even in my most vulnerable state, I could still be a man she could want. Susan's legs tightened around me, her heels digging into my ass, urging me on. I'm not a well endowed man, but I can fuck... I think... and I was doing it with gusto. "Ugh... ugh... ugh... your pussy feels incredible!" As I continued to fuck her, Susan's eyes rolled back into her head. It had been months since we were intimate together. It had become a rare occurrence where she mostly laid there and waited for me to quickly finish. But tonight, I had cum already, so I had a little stamina in me. Her pussy was tight around my cock, gripping it like a vice as she matched my rhythm with her own desperate movements. "Cum for me, Max," she moaned, her voice thick with passion. "Fuck me, baby. Yes, just like that. Cum inside me!" Her words sent me over the edge, and with a roar, I did just that, filling her up with everything I had. It was a release like nothing I had ever felt before, a culmination of guilt, fear, and an overwhelming desire to be accepted by the woman I loved. Susan moaned, a little lust and a little disappointment that I didn't last longer all mixed together. Then she did something she had never done before. "Now clean it up. With your tongue." My heart raced as Susan's command pierced the quiet post-coital moment. She didn't have to repeat herself. I leaned down, my mouth watering with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The taste of her was sweet and tangy, a mix of her juices and my sperm. As I licked her clean, I realized that she was just as into this as I was. After a few moments, she grabbed my head with her hands and screamed as she finally orgasmed from my feast. When I was done, Susan sat up, her eyes gleaming with a newfound excitement. "Now, let's talk about this," she said, her voice still shaky with arousal. "I don't want to just ignore it, Max. If this is what you need, I want to be a part of it. But we need to set some boundaries." I nodded eagerly, willing to agree to anything she said. "Of course," I murmured, my heart racing. "You will wear diapers 24-7 and use them for their intended purposes. No more toilet for you. Understand?" I nodded, the gravity of her words sinking in. This was really happening. Susan was giving me the chance to embrace my kink with her, but it came with a price—complete submission to her rules. "I am in charge. ALWAYS. What I say, goes, and if you disobey me, you will be spanked. Is that clear?" Her voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. I nodded vigorously, my heart racing with both excitement and fear. "Yes, Susan," I murmured, my voice thick with anticipation. "I will feed you. We will buy a highchair that will fit you, and that's where you will have your meals. When you behave, I will let you suckle on my breasts. I will also investigate what it may take for me to actually produce milk out of them. Got it?" I nodded again, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. This was not how I had ever imagined my life playing out, but in that moment, I was more turned on than I had ever been. "When we go out, you must wear a diaper under your adult clothes. We may have some outings where you are in more babyish clothing, which I guess I'll need to buy, but most of the time you will be dressed normally. Ok?" I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. "Okay, Susan." "Now for a few you may not like as much. First. you will now sleep in the guest room. I'll put a rubber sheet on it so you don't ruin the mattress, but we are going to make that room your nursery. I will outfit it accordingly as we do this. That also means you are never sleeping in this room again. It is now MY room. This... is MY bed. You are the baby, and sleep in the baby's room. No argument." My heart sank a bit at that, but I knew she was in charge now. "Yes, Susan." "Second, while we are home, you will address me as "mommy." Failure to do so will get you in trouble. Clear?" "Yes, mommy," I replied meekly, the word feeling strange and yet oddly comforting on my tongue. "And finally, that was the last time we will have vaginal sex ever again. You are my baby now. You are no longer my husband. If you need to "make cummies" because you're horny, we will find other ways to find you release." I was shocked... stunned. This is not what I wanted. "But Susan?" She swiftly slapped me across the face. "No arguments." I nodded, sheepishly. "When mommy needs a release, I too will find other means of that, and you will not interfere. Understood?" The words hung in the air, heavy with their newfound implications. I nodded, feeling both scared and exhilarated by the sudden shift in our dynamic. The sting of her hand still lingered on my cheek. "Otherwise, the consequences will be severe..." she paused for effect "...and expensive. Tell me you understand." I nodded, my throat tight with a mix of fear and excitement. "Yes, mommy," I murmured, the words feeling foreign yet surprisingly right. Susan stood up, her naked body a testament to the power she now held over me. She picked up the wet diaper from the floor and tossed it into the trash can. "Now go lay down on the guest room... I mean nursery bed. I will get a diaper and wipes and meet you there." I felt a mix of excitement and fear as I walked to the guest room, my legs still wobbly from the spanking and the intense orgasm. The room looked so much smaller and more juvenile than I remembered. The reality of my new life was setting in, and it was both terrifying and thrilling. When Susan joined me a few minutes later, she had a fresh diaper and a pack of wipes in her hands. She approached the bed with a stern look, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of our newfound role-play. She looked so powerful, so in control, and I found myself craving her dominance. "Lay down, baby," she said, her voice a mix of authority and tenderness. I obeyed, feeling a strange comfort in her command. She began to wipe my still hard cock clean, her touch gentle yet firm. I watched as she handled me like a mother would her toddler, her eyes never leaving mine. As she secured the fresh diaper around my waist, Susan spoke again, "Now, let's talk about this new arrangement. You're going to follow all my rules, and you're going to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?" I nodded, my voice quivering slightly. "Yes, mommy." Susan's eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of resistance or mockery. Finding none, she gave a curt nod. "Good boy," she said, and the words sent a shockwave of pleasure through me. "Now, let's get you dressed for bed." She pulled out a t-shirt I owned but hadn't worn in a while. It was quite childish with carton characters on it, not unlike the cartoon dinosaur on the diaper I was wearing. "Where did you find these diapers anyway, Maxy baby?" "Online mommy, you'd be surprised what's available on Amazon." "I guess I would," she chuckled and shook her head as she pulled the shirt over me. "Now stand up," she said firmly, and I did. SWAT! She spanked my diapered butt with her hand. I winced. "You will have regular bedtime spankings to remind you who is in charge, but I think your ass has had enough punishment for one night. Now get under the covers." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of warmth in it that I hadn't heard in a long time. I complied, sliding under the sheets and feeling the coolness of the fresh diaper against my skin. Susan bent down and kissed me gently on the forehead. "Goodnight, baby," she said, her voice a gentle purr. "Remember, this is your new life now. If you're a good boy, I'll take care of you."

Hope you enjoy this story I created back in 2023. At that time in my life I was going through a breakup and finding Mommies online. Lately I’ve been getting back into reading diaper stories and I wanted to share my own. Rereading it has been baffling with some mistakes I’ve found, but my battles with dyslexia is real since with my regular job has me staring at Excel spreadsheets all day. This 6 part story has been on Fet for a while I never really got any feedback I was hoping for besides couple of hearts. I’ve been contemplating picking the pen back up. Enjoy 😁 —————————————- Four contracts in one day. I was pooped. As I finish off my work week on Friday afternoon I begin to pack up my things to head home. The Wi-Fi in my apartment died the night before so I was forced to go into the office. Usually, we only are required to come into the office on Tuesdays and Wednesdays so the office was a ghost town on Friday. Since I knew that the office would be barren I thought now would be a good time to have some fun and go to the office in my favorite Tykable diaper. Before I left in the morning I even through a booster pad during my change since I knew I would use it to its max. Before I shutdown my laptop I wished Vanna (the girl from Marketing two floors above me) goodbye via our chat on Teams(internal company messaging). Before she could reply I closed my laptop and stuffed my notepads in my backpack. As I stand up the unmistakable sound of a badge scanning the door beeped and the door popped open. My eyes raced over to see who was there since nobody had scanned in all day. In came Vanna from Marketing and my heart jumped to my throat. Vanna was a self-made woman who took no shit from anyone. If you worked with her you would not find a more loyal and determined colleague, but if you were on the opposite side of that coin then she would either eviscerate you or roll right over you. She was 31 and never mentioned anything about relationships or social life. She was a mystery besides her loving cat that she had framed all around her office. Her passion has always been her work. Like everything in life there are two sides to every story, little did I know her determination at work was only a fraction of what truly made Vanna her wonderful self. Vanna was an absolute bombshell of a woman who looked like she inspired Victoria to start having secrets. She had an hour glass body frame that she never used to her advantage in her ruthless climb of the corporate ladder. I was easily head over heels for this woman but I couldn't find a way to express this to her. Now this Goddess was looking right at me and all I could think was, "How do I get out of this?" My heart raised as I shift in my chair resulting in crinkles for all to hear in the ghost town office space. As she walked through the door reality hit me hard and fast. There was nobody on my floor besides me and I'd been sitting in a soaking wet diaper that I could even smell while I was working. The combination of being alone and smelling like a wet toddler made my heart race as she came closer and closer. "Hey Frankie" Vanna sang out as she walked over to my cube. Luckily I had my do not disturb drawer pulled out that blocked others from entering my cube. This was done strategically earlier so no one could see me humping my chair making cummies in my diaper like a dirty baby. She noticed the block and made hand gesture like she was going to leave and catch up with me later. I sprung out of my chair like someone threw hot coals down my back to greet her and tell her to come by. She turned around and approached my cube while I came to terms with what I just did. "How are things on the smelly 2nd floor?" She said waving her hand back and forth as if she had smelt a soaked baby boy. "Ha, no change from the usual. Hey, I thought you worked from home on Fridays." She rolled her eyes," Ya I'm closing this giant deal and all my colleagues are too scared to make moves without me so they keep pestering me. I come in when it is quiet and I can get work done." Vanna looks me up and down, "Oh, is that a new shirt?" Confusion hit me like a ton of bricks because I rarely buy new clothing. What is she getting at? She was staring directly at my waste line so I began scanning my waistline wondering what she could be referring to. Then...I saw it. One of the wing tips from my diaper was poking out from my Hawaiian shirt that I was wearing specifically so this WOULD NOT happen. In an instant I felt all of my blood rush to my feet. I was frozen with embarrassment as I tried to muster a response. "AHHUH, ya it's new and I haven't taken the tag off," I said as I tried to shift around in my seat to make this "new tag" shift under my clothes. "Well it looks like the purchase has been finalized, lets get that tag off." Before I could react Vanna slithered past my useless pullout drawer that was supposed to keep others out and grabbed the wing of my diaper with pinpoint accuracy. She moved so fast that I had no time to react. When she pulled it and the "tag" didn't come off but instead got bigger, she let out an audible gasp. My face was now on fire as she began to put together what she just discovered. Here I am staring at the most sought-after woman in the company and she just realizing that I am in a diaper. "Is...Is that a DIAPER?!" She asked. My jaw literally hit the floor as I contemplated jumping up to running out the door. As I tried to form words all I could do was breathe heavier and heavier until it sounded like I was running half marathon. "And is that stale smell I'm sensing coming from...YOU?!" The sound of my heart pounding was all I could hear and it felt like I was on a wooden rollercoaster with my adrenaline going through the roof. "Are you wet? Are you peeing right now??" I braced my chair, "NO! I...we are so close to the bathroom." She cut me off, "You bring up a good point. You are close to the bathroom and yet here you are in a diaper." As she said "diaper" I could feel the blood start to pump in a very focused direction. My squishy wet diaper began to have solid formation that was poking towards the voluptuous figure in front of me. How could I be aroused in a time like this? As I shifted around to hide the tent currently being pitched in my pants the sounds of a crinkly diaper emerged. Vanna giggles, "OMG you crinkle!!" She said as her face lit up. She covered her face and pointed at me as she started to laugh. The excitement I felt from her pointing out my diaper suddenly went away in one heartbeat. It dawned on me that my chances with this incredible woman of my dreams were now shattered. "Why would any woman want to be with a 33-year-old stuck in diapers?" was the thought that was shooting across my mind. Vanna continued laughing as she turned her head to soak in what she was witnessing. A feeling of hopelessness came over me as she turned away to compose herself. My vision started to become blurry as tears began to overrun my eyes. As she turned back around my head started to sink into my chest as a low sob began to slip from my lips. "Ohhhh noo...Frankie!" she expelled as she started to move closer to me. I felt her hand gently rube across my arm and another caress my cheek. "I'm so sorry you poor little thing." The tone of her voice hit my ears which unlocked a feeling of comfort that is rarely felt outside of a loving mother/son relationship. This juxtaposition of feelings was so extreme that it caused me to lose focus for a second. Her hand continued down my cheek to the back of my neck which sent shivers down my spine. In a moment of euphoria I felt this genuine sense of vulnerability as I looked into Vanna's mystical eyes. It triggered a warm sense of love and security that I hadn't felt before in years. I never wanted this feeling to go away as I lost myself in this paradise. It was so intense that I could feel the warmth building inside until I noticed another warm spot but it coincided with giant wet spot on my pants. "OH MY GOODNESS FRANKIE!" I open my eyes and Vanna is right in front of me hands over her mouth as she looks at the very visible stain on my jeans. My vision became blurry again as the levey broke in my eye ducts. Vanna grabbed my chin and made me look into her eyes. "Do you want me to find a way to make things better for you?" My head began to bounce up and down as my noise began to bubble up in conjunction with my eyes cascading tears. Vanna took my hand and said, "Ok baby, you are going to follow me ok?" She grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my chair where she threw a jacket around my waist. "Everything is going to be ok you just need to follow me and do as I say ok?" I nod my head again and try to prepare for the unexpected.

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female domination (some male) Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back and I hope everyone had as good of a break as I did! Work was stressful, but it’s always nice to get away for a little bit from trying to meet my own personal deadlines, especially after such a large project as my last two stories were with all the completely new world-building and whatnot. Now, though, it’s just as equally good to be back and writing stories again. That being said, this story has definitely grown over the past two weeks from my original plan. Initially, I fleshed this thing out to be around ten chapters, but soon realized it needed more on my first pass. Seeing a lot was missing from the plot for the type of story I wanted to tell though, the chapter count now stands at 24, but checking out a few later, I can absolutely say that there might be more. As I promised before, since these stories are based on previous works of mine, I will try to include all the stories that might need to be read before this one. As it is a sequel, the primary previous story would be Project Nurture, as several of the characters from there will be mentioned and parts of this story will also align with that one. I would also suggest for more background that The Opening would be helpful as well, as it discusses when the portals first opened and gives some background on the two worlds in general. Lastly, looking at the map of Libertalia (in the Reference Guide) or the DD Timeline might be useful. As I try to do for each of these stories in the DD though, I will try to write most of this where reading them is not required, but as a warning, further details and some plot elements may not be discussed. Next, as is typical these days, I will post the next poll at the start of the following chapter. Since this is only the first DD story, my rule of two won’t apply yet, so I’m thinking I will include two DD and one non-DD story this go-round. So, be on the lookout for that. Also, looking ahead, I’m absolutely tasking myself with writing/editing three chapters a week. That being said, with 24 current chapters and at three a week, this will definitively bump into late May/early June, which means that I will be pausing at least at one point for a multi-day vacation. Considering it’s Florida and I always come back with at least three new story ideas, take comfort in the delay at least for future stories from me. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: Hello. Name’s Ashley Cutters, Journalist It’s a small, unassuming house, but within lay so much more, particularly with a fringe member of LRG being tasked to look up the dirty laundry of the government here in Libertalia. Considering all the security measures in place and all the others that had ‘gone missing’ over the years from the organization, Vincent didn’t want to take a chance this time. “Alright… let’s see what we’ve got on the menu tonight…” Vincent was practically licking his lips in anticipation of what he could find in his search of the dark web tonight. “Join the Littles Revolution Group they said… Challenge yourself and change the world!” Vincent couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little at that tagline that had so easily ensnared his wide-eyed and younger and more hopeful self. LRG was a smaller group back then… more manageable and under the radar. Hacking to get free music initially, Victor had stumbled into the law a few times but always managed to get away. After his Little friend got kidnapped though, Victor had turned his attention to LRG and signed up to help after only a week of seeing what they were trying to accomplish. With his skills, incidents like the initial opening of the portals between worlds and the opening of Dark Cliff Prison were almost commonplace stories amongst the more rebellious Little population of Libertalia now. Being a Middle himself meant he was more or less immune from most of the horrors that came with being a Little in this world, but he saw a need and tried to fulfill it for others that definitely couldn’t. Little did he know that path of righteousness and good intentions would lead him here… somewhere in the backwoods of the state of Virgan. It had been a year since he last went to the movies… six months since a bar, and three weeks since even the dinky grocery store just off the main road from here to Columbia. Another LRG got him groceries now… especially after he found some piece about some new drug called ‘FOY’ and was almost immediately flagged and shut down by the Feds. Ever since, he had lived in a state of paranoia… hence the practically ghost cabin set in the middle of nowhere as his main base of operations now. Still, Vincent sighed and tried to think of all this as a game. It had worked in the past when these hacking sessions went into tedious or potentially dangerous places. The FOY thing was great and all no doubt, but… this wasn’t living. He needed something… anything to break up his routine. Maybe he would talk to Carlos the next time he stopped by for a food run about taking a vacation… maybe. Grumbling a little, Vincent shook his head and returned to the monitor as he finished off the last of his cheesy puffs. “Now… what do you have for me tonight?” His thick sausage-like fingers clacked on the keyboard with a rapid regularity that indicated years of practice at this sort of thing. As such, minutes later, Vincent had opened one of the deep web chatrooms like he was simply passing from one room to another. “Let’s see… anything to help LRG pass those restraint laws… equality and all? Anything at all tonight?” Vincent’s eyes strained against the bright screen, but an hour later, despite his impressive and extensive skills, he was still no closer to something definitive to send back. It was just that way sometimes. Yes, there were scores of plans and threats on there, but nothing with substance that could either be classified as reportable or even actionable. Just a bunch of hot air and… “Oh?” Vincent noted with some surprise, leaning in from his wide chair to get a better look at what he was seeing. “What’s this?” The posting was very strange to the point where Vincent even ran a check on it to make sure it was clean and wouldn’t upload a virus or crash his system. He had learned that the hard way back as a junior in high school. Looking more closely, something snagged his attention right away. “Holorecording’s, huh?” Vincent checked the file at least three times just to be sure he was reading it right, but it was confirmed and that piqued his curiosity more than any tagline associated. Vincent knew full-well that Holorecording’s were all the rage years ago, especially when agents of the old academy used to travel to Earth and pluck humans away for testing purposes before the dawn of portal travel and when they exploited soft spots instead. Seeing the ‘.vid.e’ label though, Vincent could already tell that it was the enhanced version instead of the original 2D video like any other old-fashioned video recording. In this case, enhanced meant 3D recordings and possibly sensation feedback and even mental thoughts if he was lucky. Not wanting to turn away now, Vincent clicked into the posting further. A brief description at the title of the page noted something about the files being ‘vital’ and ‘critical to understand.’ Vincent had his doubts about that, especially since 90% of the other posts said that, but he shrugged and kept at it… curious if nothing else over the holorecording file contained within. “Hmmm… seems intriguing enough…” Getting to the main page of the file and knowing what was next, Vincent got up and went to the backroom of the cabin where he stored most of the excess electronics and equipment associated. Looking around, he finally found the box he was looking for, a good layer of dust covering it that had to be blown away first. “Ah. Gotcha! Almost got rid of you last month to store an extra supply of rum in here. Good thing I decided I didn’t need more alcohol here… I guess.” Continuing to dust the box off, Vicent made his way back to the computer before sitting down again and then popping the lid off. Peering inside, he could see the headgear, visor, and even the contacts for one’s temple. “Looks okay… hard to tell really until I actually just go ahead and test this thing out.” Vincent blew a little more dust off and then gently placed the device over his head. Wincing a little at first, he made quick work of the device to relieve the tighter pressure and expand the halo section until it fit his head more comfortably. Taking the attached cord, he blew on it lightly and then hooked the device in. Soon, the screen before him blinked, and Vincent completed the preliminary set up as the newly clicked holorecording files were downloaded onto his server. Applying a little petroleum jelly to the contact points at his temple, he took a breath and looked over the various warnings on the box. “Warning… excessive use can lead to seizure, brain hemorrhage, and even death. Do not use with potentially corrupted files and do not use while alone.” Looking around the empty room, Vincent shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well… can’t stop all the time just because I’m a one-man team up here.” As he clicked on the final steps for downloading the files, Vincent felt a little fear over using this old technology once more. There was a reason for the warnings… why the technology had been dropped in favor of other more recent models here in Libertalia. Newer methods were safer… more legal. Looking around at half the equipment in here used just for pirating signals and hacking into government servers, it might have been an odd fear, but holorecording’s tended to brute-force their way into local servers rather than ask permission at all. It gave the recordings a true 3D experience to the viewer later, but the legality was sketchy at best in court cases, so the technology had largely been dropped in favor of more… legal ways. So, to see it so plainly on here for that fact alone was curious if nothing else. Vincent didn’t want to hope, but there were only so many who used this technology in the past few years… and they were either illegal, which could mean some great dirt on something out there that could hurt the Bigs, or they were less poised with technology, which could mean they were more desperate and likely more interesting. Either way, it boded well for Vincent’s mission and ultimately, LRG. Clicking onto the first recording once it had downloaded, the first screen showed the typical warnings yet again about using this technology, which Vincent promptly clicked through rapidly, understanding the risks… and quickly ignoring them. Next, and most curious, before the instructions, there was a brief blurb about what he was about to watch. It was something about someone named Ashley and this footage found from her imbedded camera. Most fascinating though, although maybe a little worrying or disappointing, it noted that ‘some pieces are missing’ from the recording and it is ‘unknown if they had been deleted by the user’ or were simply ‘too corrupted.’ Either way, Vincent pressed on with curiosity like that of a child potentially finding buried treasure in their backyard. The screen cut away, and then another popped up. “Place device on head now.” Vincent did as he was instructed, and as he remembered from the last time that he used this thing over six years ago now, the visor remained clear so he could see the screen and the next instructions. “Press here to proceed.” A decently sized green button then appeared below. Vincent hovered his mouse over the button, took a deep breath, and pressed it before relaxing back in his chair. * * * Black. Nothing. The screen was just a myriad of inky blackness, punctuated occasionally by a little blip or static on the screen. “Ah, shit!” a male voice called out from the abyss, remaining faceless in the darkened void. “Oh, perfect, Stuart!” a female voice said with a sigh and no small amount of clear frustration. “Just what this footage needs… cursing right from the start! This could be the beginning of some very serious report one day, you know.” “Sorry…” presumably Stuart apologized, grunting a little like he was trying to adjust something. Briefly the edges of the void curled in and flicked with static and a few green, blue, yellow, and red dots… and then pure nothingness once again. “Ugh! I just realized that the audio and video were off before. Now, it’s just the video and I’m…” He grunted again. “Trying to adjust that.” “Well, can you fix it?” the female voice asked, sighing heavily again and now sounding more than a little impatient as well. “This whole plan isn’t going to go very well if this stupid thing doesn’t even wor…!” * * * Day 0 – 12:30 P.M. EDT – Earth The screen cut back, and a white border, like from one of the old video systems, popped on as a frame around the main picture, which wasn’t much more than a computer lab somewhere, punctuated in several spots by at least ten twenty-foot-long sections of three-inch-thick wires. Multiple spots were frayed and pulled apart, while other sections were fully intact. One desk was cluttered with all sorts of odd metallic objects and scraps of wiring, while the other desk appeared to contain some sort of toolset and even a medical diagram of the head and an eyeball… though with something dark right behind the iris in this case. “Okay… that should do it…” a pale and scrawny figure noted, possibly Stuart, now coming into the frame. Unsettlingly in some way, he was looking directly at the camera with a calculating and curious expression. Before becoming too awkward though, he then briefly looked away and back to another monitor just off screen. “Okay… single feed up and running. Blink once for me, will you, Ashley?” The feed momentarily went black before snapping back to its previous image. “Like that, Stuart?” the female voice, presumably Ashley, questioned. This time, instead of one of annoyance, it sounded more hopeful. “Yep. That’s good, Ashley.” Stuart then hopped back and briefly went out of frame behind the monitor on the more crowded desk, and the sounds of clicks and clacks could be heard like he was typing something in. “Okay… now blink three times in succession. This might feel a little weird after, but we need this thing to reach out to other sources if you want more than a single shot from your eye. No point in this level of technology if we can’t get all the angles… just in case.” The feed temporarily dipped down and back up, almost as if Ashley was nodding while holding a camera. Then, the feed blipped out in three short bursts. Suddenly, the feed switched, and the previous single view of the camera now showed something more akin to a 3D image panning around the room. One watching from the outside would have likely felt the sensation that they could touch everything, rather than as if they were just watching a movie. The view shifted more, and more of the room could be seen. Nearby, lying down on an exam chair of sorts, like one would find in any dentist’s office, was a tall and skinny blonde woman, her blouse and slacks contrasting heavily was the disposable bib around her neck. “You good, Ashley? Still with me?” Stuart asked, pressing in on the blonde woman. “Yeah…” Her voice shook a little and her answer was anything but confident. “Just a little… dizzy, I guess?” She patted her eye tenuously and then quickly looked back at her fingers, almost like she was expecting something to be left there. “At least the bleeding’s gone now.” Stuart nodded. “Yeah. Not going to lie… you looked a little grizzly earlier when I was trying to adjust the feed. It looks like the micro surgeons did a great job though. No scarring from what I can see… which is impressive, because… you know… there’s…” He didn’t seem to be able to finish that thought and gestured with his hands awkwardly. His social skills didn’t seem to be one of his strengths, but Ashley only smiled back. “Because there’s a camera embedded in my eye now?” Stuart nodded and she laughed a little. “Yeah… feels strange to say, but you know the Amazon’s technology. It’s decades at least ahead of our own… even now with everything they’ve been trading to us and all the advances we’ve made since the opening of the portals.” “Yeah… this whole place… building and city too… run off what they’ve given us.” Stuart then rolled back to his monitor. Then, without looking back, he cleared his throat. “But also… Bigs.” Ashely looked at him strangely for a moment. “What?” “Bigs…” Stuart noted again. “You called them Amazons. They’re called Bigs. ‘Amazon’ is almost a derogatory word… especially coming from a Little.” “Oh… I completely forgot about that.” Ashley seemed momentarily stunned and nervous for a moment. “Hey… no big deal here, right?” Stuart leaned back over and looked at Ashley with reassuring eyes. “Just… keep it in mind when you’re going over there.” Ashley frowned and then suddenly looked defensive. “What? I’m not… I…” “Fine, fine,” Stuart said, retreating a little bit back to his monitor. “Don’t tell me about your plans with the tech I just helped set up, but I’m just trying to help. Don’t want a smacked bottom two seconds into your trip over there, do you?” Ashley grimaced a little and then looked slightly embarrassed. “Oh… yeah. Sorry, Stuart. Just… you know how these things go, right? Mr. Swarthout wants doubly sure that all this stays under the radar… at least until publishing. You know how he gets.” Stuart nodded. “Right. I mean, you are talking to the person who sets all this undercover stuff up in the first place for the magazine. Heck, discretion might as well be my middle name these days.” Ashley smiled and Stuart went back to clicking all over his monitor. “Okay… now, let’s check out the feeds. Turn your head up and down and side to side.” Ashley did, but the view didn’t change, and instead still seemed like a 3D experience and not being stuck in one spot. “Good. The feed didn’t change intensity or direction when you did that.” He clicked a few more times. “Now, blink.” Ashley nodded, but this time, the feed popped off and went back to completely blackness whenever she did so. “Oops. Need to… adjust… that… okay, now try again.” Ashley nodded again and blinked, but this time, the feed didn’t black out. “Phew! That could have been bad. Need to make sure you still have a view even if your eyes are closed… or blindfolded.” Ashley only nodded, a small amount of fear seemingly lingering in her eyes over why that would be a top priority that was needed. “Alright… lastly, let’s see if this other feed works… the mental one, I mean. 50-50 shot of this thing even functioning, but… let’s give it a go, shall we?” “Uh, do I need to do something?” Ashley looked around and she blinked a few times and even resorted to snapping her fingers, but nothing appeared to be working. “Hmmm….” Stuart looked closer at his monitor and clicked in a few places. “Let’s try it this way. I’ve increased the number of input feeds. Might feel a little funny, and we might still only capture some of your thoughts, but something would be better than nothing, you know?” Ashley nodded and her face soon relaxed. ‘I hope this works…’ Stuart’s eyes lit up. “Aha!” He seemed near ecstatic over what he was seeing on his screen. “Did you just think ‘I hope this works’ just now?” “Oh shit…” Ashley seemed petrified for a moment that all her thoughts were going to be recorded now, but it was soon supplemented by a look of fascination as well. “Intrusive suckers, those Bigs, huh?” “Maybe… no, definitely if even half the rumors are correct.” Stuart then wheeled away from his desk and came over to Ashley to start getting her ready to leave. “But just think about all those times where you couldn’t speak, and a recording of your thoughts might have helped. I remember you didn’t seem too pleased from that one assignment you had in the Middle East where you had to recall all that stuff for your article weeks after it had occurred.” Ashley nodded, seemingly appreciative of the technology more than worried by it. “You always bring up that assignment, Stuart. I’m still not forgetting how skeptical you were of me when I volunteered for that one.” “Alright, alright,” he said, defensively holding up his hands as he backed off. “I was wrong back then, and you proved to everyone of your skills as an investigative journalist. Just don’t go mucking everything up with this one just because you’re part-cyborg now or whatever. This tech is just a recording device… not a bail out.” Ashley sat up on the chair and waved his concern off. “I know that. Just tell me this… how does thing store data or how do I get it back to you all? Do I needed to do something further?” Stuart nodded and flipped one of screens back to her which soon switched from an MRI scan of her head to one of a process diagram. “Simple really… it has a memory of 400 TBs, but with our modification, it also will attempt to reach out and link to any satellites in the area and send back the feed to a safehouse. Then, if everything goes right, about one to two times a month, they’ll come back here and show us the footage.” ‘If everything goes right…’ The monitor pinged and Stuart looked back at it, and both smiled and seemed hesitant. “Yeah… I’ll admit it’s not the most assured plan using Littles over there to get us the footage, but it’s either that or we send in a person to take it from you, which could blow your cover, or we extract you early, with or without a story.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Just… I guess as long as the footage comes back intact for me to do a story after…” Ashley then hopped off the chair and walked over to where Stuart was sitting. “Now… how about that battery life? What am I working with here?” Stuart seemed more hesitant in this answer and then waved his hand around. “Well… difficult to say really. It could last anywhere from two months to…” * * * Day 0 – 12:30 P.M. EDT – Earth The clouds stretched for what seemed like miles as Ashley looked out over the budding metropolis of Philly. The so-called ‘dark times’ had hit the city pretty bad, but with the Amazons… Bigs bump in technology, the city was breathing a long sigh of relief and hope once more. Buildings shined, stonework had been repaired, and the streets now remained clean and devoid of pretty much every gang that once roamed so freely. Ashley was just a kid when all that was going on, and was mostly shielded by her parents, but now, both they and that old festering city were long gone. “Ashley?” Ms. Abernathy called from her desk, to which Ashley spun around. “Mr. Swarthout will see you now.” Ashley nodded and proceeded through the large wooden double doors and into Mrs. Swarthout’s office, the CEO of the magazine here. “You wanted to see me, boss?” Mr. Swarthout was looking at a painting behind his desk but then turned to see Ashley. “Yes… please have a seat.” As he gestured to the open seat in front of his desk, his mouth was grinning, but his eyes bore a heavy aura of dismay and even worry. “Is this about the assignment?” she asked, sitting down and getting comfortable while also trying to maintain a good posture in front of her boss… someone who could pull the plug on all this at the snap of his fingers. Mr. Swarthout sighed before sitting down himself and folding his fingers together. “Well, you are the investigator. I guess I shouldn’t try to hide my intentions of this meeting…” Ashley hesitated by ultimately shook her head. “Very well… I just wanted to check on a few things, but primarily…” He quickly looked like he wanted to puke or curse. “You have until the end of October to get back here and report your story. Beyond that, and regardless of your progress… I pull the assignment. Understood?” Ashley did and nodded, but her face seemed to swarm with questions. “I won’t need that long, right? I mean, if our reports are anything to go off, I should find a story worth all this effort in no time at all and be back before the end of August if my other timelines are anything to go off.” “Maybe…” Mr. Swarthout was a cautious man, but bold as well when he needed to be. Today, his cautious side was showing far more than usual. “It’s just that our reports also indicated that you could encounter no small amount of… trouble. And frankly, Ashley, that’s putting it mildly. I know you’re no stranger to conflict… civil wars, violent dictators, drug trafficking… your resume speaks for itself by now, but…” He trailed off and his eyes hung heavy with something like fear. ‘The pictures… the reports… he must be thinking about the same packet of information we got back from one of our vacationing reporters over there that sparked all this initially…’ Ashley shifted uncomfortably, likely recalling the effects on one such individual that escaped back here, as opposed to their own journalist which had not. “Yes, sir… I know the risks. Those other assignments had their own risks, but at the end of the day, a Kevlar jacket can keep a bullet away. Over there though… not sure how much I can do to stop some even half of what I’ve heard about if it comes to that.” “Exactly.” His words seemed happy that Ashley was showing that she wasn’t going into this blind, but the risks were clearly still sticking around in the front of his mind. “Just remember that most will be out to stop you if you get anywhere near one of the better stories. You will be a target already the moment you step foot on their soil… stats on humans returning from over there who stay more than a week aren’t good. Potentially, with the October cutoff even, you could be over there for over 140 days... more if even the slightest thing goes wrong. Plus, you could be walking right into a trap and not even know it until it was too late.” Ashley sighed, and she was clearly processing everything, but she nearly unbothered by it not long after. “Maybe… but I’ve done that before, and besides… maybe I won’t even deviate from the tour group I’m already signed up for? Could be something interesting there… Diamond Tours I think I heard? Or maybe that was the other one I investigated and then rejected…” The tiny scoff from Mr. Swarthout was audible, but he also didn’t press it any further. “Well… I guess I can’t stop you at this point. You’re stubborn, and that makes you a great journalist, but still, as they used to say… be it on your head then.” Just as Ashley started to stand after nodding in acknowledgement back to him, he then stood up. “Oh, wait… Ashley…” She stopped herself from leaving. “Speaking of tour group… do you have a backstory yet? Your name could be well-known… even to a bunch of Bigs.” This time Ashley smiled with confidence and then pulled out a thick manilla envelope from her bag. “All in here, Sir. Stuart set me up as usual, and I don’t open this thing until I’m locked-in back home. You just never know who could be watching and wind up blowing my cover…” “Hmmm… very diligent of you.” His eyes went down to look over the packet now gripped tightly in her fingers. “I’m sure it will all be up to our standards. Still though…” Worry eclipsed his face once more. “I’m just… I’m concerned about you, Ashley. Would you…” He briefly grimaced. “Would you maybe reconsider? As a favor to an old man?” Ashley frowned at first, shaking her head and then backing away from the seat in front of his desk with a warmer smile instead. “No, sir. I’m not giving up this assignment for anything. I value your concern, sir, but now. Besides, I’ll be fine. I’m not a rookie anymore… so please… stop worrying, will you? I’ve got everythi…” * * * Day 0.1 – 12:30 P.M. EDT – Earth A small room came into view, suitcases and cardboard boxes taking up a majority of the initial frame. Some framed photos were perched nearby, but most of the items besides the main furniture pieces seemed to be souvenirs from around the world, presumably from Ashely’s travels in her job. One could tell a lot about a person looking at just their walls, and Ashley was no different, definitely being the type of person who valued degrees and awards over relationships, and beads from a far-off country to even something as simple as a pet. “Okay… back at my apartment now…” Ashley blinked a few times as she stared into a nearby mirror, temporarily pressing around the feed of her eye. “Still find this strange that everything is recording. Going to the bathroom felt wrong at first… but Stuart assured me yesterday that a filter will be applied before all this stuff gets submitted. Better not be lying about that, or so help me…” Ashley cracked her knuckles and then shook her head. “Whatever… this assignment is going to be a little strange, but first step… pack up the apartment.” She momentarily tapped one of the nearby cardboard boxes perched on a side table of sorts. “Mr. Swarthout is instituting the usual policy of paying for my lease for three months, but after that… the rest of my stuff will go into storage until I get back.” Her face clouded a little in sadness. “Gosh… I still miss my old place before the assignment I took in Germany that lasted another month longer than I thought it was going to.” She then shook her head and looked right into the mirror. “Regardless, I wanted to specifically include this bit for the future for two reasons. The first… well, is me.” She then waved into the mirror. “Not sure how all these angles work exactly, but hey! My name is Ashley Cutters, and I’m an investigative journalist for the magazine, Times Reporting. We cover a lot of local news, but since the ‘dark times’ ended, the magazine has been branching out more onto the country and now world stage.” Ashley then walked into what best could be described as her dining room, though the cluttered table seemed far from sitting anyone comfortably for a meal anytime soon. “So, just to note as well… I requested this assignment. Basically, I was reading a few articles from escaped Littles in the other dimension, plus the one from our own reporter, and I just knew there was a story there waiting to be told. It just felt like too good an opportunity to pass up, so I volunteered right away when Mr. Swarthout wanted to publish a story of some kind from over there. He wasn’t super specific about what, but it gives me plenty of leeway for any type of story I want. Just needs to be compelling.” She then walked over and sat down in front of a large stack of papers. “Now, I also wanted to do this…” She paused and reached for the large and thick manilla folder she had previously received from Stuart and then shown to Mr. Swarthout. “I want to see inside, and I really need to start memorizing everything in here. I’ve got about three days to do this, and if I’m discreet, I can do the rest of the finer details on the bus ride after the portal facility and travel… I hope.” Popping the folder open, Ashley seemed curious as to what was truly inside for this little operation of hers and moments later began to fish out what looked like a passport, cash, personal items, and several other odds and ends. “Well… I guess it could be worse.” She then pulled the ID card close into her face before showing it off at different angles around the room. “Still not sure how this tech works, but I don’t want to take a chance. Guess I need to reach out to Stuart before I leave about the specifics for all that, but for now…” Her finger then pointed to her name. “Looks like I’m now going to be Ashley… Stevens.” She paused and squinted at the ID card for a moment. “Hmmm… first name is the same. Easier to memorize, but not the best for covers.” Setting the ID down with a sigh, she started to read over a thick packet of information. “And it looks like I’m a personal trainer originally from Seattle, Washington. I guess…” she then glanced down at her body, “I guess I could pass for one. Need to check out a few facts and routines maybe first before I leave, but still…” She then sighed and looked at one of the few photo frames in the room. “Sgt. Gideon… Elias could’ve done better….” She picked up the frame and gently caressed the photo within, clearly showing herself and a taller and muscular man geared in desert camo. “Best military contact I ever had. Never worried about ID’s, background, or keeping my butt safe. He did that and more…” She left her words hanging on the air for a second as she lowered the frame to her lap and looked longingly out her apartment window. Looking back down about a minute later, she shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well… I’m sure he’s off protecting someone else by now. Wish he was coming with me, but… oh! And here are the portal tickets.” Ruffling through the spilled-out contents a little more after setting the frame of her and Sgt. Elias aside, Ashley then produced a large rectangular ticket that shimmered in sections underneath the overhead lights. “Good. Three days from now. Plenty of time to get all this memorized for my purposes. And… interesting.” She then pulled the ticket closer to her face. “Leaving from the portal in Philly but going to their portal facility across the country in Niveis… our Nevada. Curious…” Swishing around the finer details of her mission and some further notes on her background packet of detail to memorize for her undercover identity, Ashley finally stood up and began to pace around the room. Each time she made another lap around her furniture; she would switch to reciting another fact about ‘Ashley Stevens.’ Before long, she stopped and went back to the mirror she had started with. “You are Ashley… Ashley Stevens…” She said it, her voice shaking a little at first, and from her tense facial muscles, it seemed to deeply bother her. ‘Go again, Ash… Try it with more confidence… practice makes perfect, right?’ She then gazed back into the mirror. “You are Ashley Ste… Stevens…” ‘Crud! Again, and get it right this time.’ She sighed and took another huge breath. “You are Ashley Stevens.” This time the words came to her much more easily. “You are… Ashley Stevens!” A smile began to creep over her face. “You are Ashley Stevens! Ashley Stevens! Ashley Stevens!” * * * Day 0.4 – 11:16 P.M. EDT – Earth “Ashley Stevens checking in.” Ashley was now dressed more sporty, complete with tennis shoes and a pair of yoga pants as opposed to her previously more typical rugged clothing, born from years on the road and in foreign countries. Her high-top ponytail just seemed to add to her new persona as she handed over her fake ID to the ticket person at the newly constructed portal depot. Working exclusively in glass and steel almost seemed to be a requirement with the design of this building, looking both futuristic and intimidating but welcoming at the same time. For a moment before entering, Ashley hesitated just to look at the newly added structure to just outside of Philly. It was just another example of how everything was changing at breakneck speeds recently. After a second, bringing her attention back to the present, the ticket person looked back at Ashley and smiled. “Oh, yes. Sorry about the wait. Still upgrading from the original systems here. Those old hunks of junk were slow but steady and never crashed. These new ones from the other dimension, well… let’s just say I do a backup of my computer once an hour now… just in case.” “Oh no!” Ashley seemed to feign her concern over such a simple matter. Ashley had a heart for sure, but it was more calculating sometimes when it came to others. Ashley Stevens, though, was a character and needed a more jovial nature to blend in better and form connections which she could later exploit for her story. Stuart being Stuart had laid all that out in detail in her briefing packet. “Don’t you just hate it when that happens! My studio just got the new system last month, and ugh! Never seen so many crashes in my life.” The ticket person smiled while also rolling their eyes. “Oh, that’s just terrible. I’m so sorry.” The computer then whirred to life and a scanner-like noise could be heard followed by a single beep. Smiling back, the ticket person handed Ashley back her ticket. “Alright, hon. You should be all set to go.” The ticket person’s eyes then dropped to their screen. “Huh… portal station to the east of Carson City and north of Prata… strange… Why don’t they just call it Las Vegas like we do? I mean, they call their Philadelphia, Philadelphia as well, you know? Silly Bigs, right?” Ash nodded but she knew the answer and just didn’t seem to be able to hold back. “It’s already Greek. Their dimension pulls a lot from the Greek and Latin. The attendant stared back blankly for a moment, and from a quick widening of her eyes, it was evident that Ashley knew she had pushed her knowledge too far. Sure, a personal trainer could know that stuff, but it might have been more unusual for them to point it out. “At least… that’s what I read in Times Reporting last month!” The ticket person quickly smiled once again. “Oh! That must be it. They do have the most fascinating articles on all that silly stuff.” Ashley clenched her fist temporarily but made sure to maintain her smile above the ticket counter. “Now then…” The ticket person’s finger then pointed to a wide-set hallway with several numbers above it. “Follow pathway 6 and you should be all set to go for your 12:30 departure time to portal station, Niveis 1!” Grabbing the ticket, Ashley smiled broadly back at them, clearly relieved that she had mustered her way out of that slip-up in character. “Perfect! You have yourself a wonderful day!” Waving goodbye like she had once seen in an old movie, the ticket person waved back without incident. ‘Whew! Definitely going to have to get used to this chipper personality that Stuart set me up with…’ In truth, Ashley could have changed it, but by now, she knew that for the moment, she could get more with a more empathetic and bubblier persona than her own. She almost always reverted to her usual self, but she made no more mention of it and proceeded calmly through the newly designed and built portal terminal building. * * * Day 0.4 – 12:26 P.M. EDT – Earth “Next, please!” a stubby and smiling man said, gesturing to the line Ashley was in while scanning everyone’s tickets before sending them off and down the ramp to the large metallic circle at the far end of the room. “Have your tickets out and ready to scan!” Ashley was more than ready by now and eagerly tapped the extended handle of her suitcase. She had shown up early and had spent the past hour getting some coffee and a small pastry. She wanted to eat more, but one of the top suggestions for portal travel was ‘don’t eat or at least eat light’ beforehand. As she scanned her ticket and saw the portal, her face seemed both relieved and content. ‘At least it’s Philly and not one of the ones out in the middle of nowhere. I think they still use the tech that fries your DNA or something and you have to go into medical hibernation for a week… or was it a month?’ She shook her head and kept moving toward the portal entrance… still lying dormant. “Attention!” the seemingly head scientist announced, clad in his pristine lab coat near the top of a platform next to the portal. Everyone below waiting in line immediately turned to him. “Now, I know this will be new for some of you, so just hold on and I promise! Everything you are about to see, hear, and witness is completely normal. Once activated, we will proceed one at a time. But first, please take the pill you are being handed now.” A smaller scientist, dressed in more hospital-like scrubs, came along and handed everyone a pill. Looking down at her palm after being handed one, the blackish green pill didn’t seem to sit well at all with Ashley. ‘Oh boy! Just gotta do this and get it over with. Can’t be worse than the scorpion shot down in Mexico last year, right?’ Wincing a little, Ashley immediately popped the pill into her mouth and visibly swallowed. “And now,” the head scientist continued, “we shall proceed! Activate the portal!” Almost like a performance of sorts, portal travel still fascinated most. For Ashley, the vibrations that started when the switch was thrown unnerved her just a little bit. ‘What the hell is that?’ Everyone had heard what portal travel was like, but seemingly like the universe was getting pierced into two, the whole room shook with tremendous fury. An audible whine and groan of a sound echoed off the walls, and soon, everything just turned to an unsettling hum. ‘God! I can feel it in my stomach!’ Several others groaned, but like the popping of ears after a flight, everything suddenly went still. Briefly everything became fuzzy within view, complete with static on the fringes of the frame by the date and time stamp, but when it snapped back, the portal quickly erupted with a viscous blue fluid. Shimmering and almost magical, it was entrancing to most. Ashley could only stare back in wonder at what was unfolding before her. Then, like a pool of water settling after being disturbed by a rock being thrown in, the liquid-like substance stopped and only briefly rippled within the metal circle device above everyone. “Wow…” Several of the crowd nodded in agreement with Ashley’s short but quite accurate reaction to what they had all just witnessed. “This way! This way!” the head scientist squawked again, looking at his watch quickly as if he had a pressing schedule to keep. The entire room hummed with life and the blue energy coiled through the wiring leading to the perimeter of the metal circle that now contained the liquid-seeming center. It was all quite mesmerizing and… “Feeling nervous, honey?” Ashley turned around to see a slightly taller woman smiling kindly down at her. Ashley wasn’t short by any means, but this woman easily eclipsed her by a good foot at least. Ashley quickly shook her head. ‘Crud! Is she an Amazon? Crud! I mean… Big!’ Everyone knew by now that physical compression between the portals was common. Most Littles over there shrank at least an inch, but coming over here, the same applied to Bigs… just not as well. Most towered over the rest of the population and were pretty obvious once pointed out. “N… no!” she blurted out, a little more defiant and defensively than she had anticipated. “I mean… no. Just… hungry.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the whole truth either. The taller woman smiled. “No worries, dear. There’s nothing to any of this anymore. Once the pill enters your stomach, you might feel a little woozy on the other side, but nothing a nice nap can’t fix. Just breathe easy and you’ll be right as rain.” “Thank you…” Ashley blushed a little, feeling a little overwhelmed by her presence alone, but at the same time… there was almost something alluring to her voice and overall demeanor. Something inviting… something… ‘No, no, Ash! Not that crud. Stay strong and stay focused. Just keep walking… just keep walking…’ “Ticket please,” one of the scientists requested as soon as Ashley was second in line to the portal. Nodding, she handed the ticket over, which was then scanned, and a small hole was punched into the bar code. “Walk forward and don’t forget to just keep breathing.” Their voice was almost mechanical… definitely without any shred of emotion or sympathy, but Ashley could only sigh and step forward. ‘Maybe complacency just means they do this all the time? More portal travel; less problems, right?’ The unease on her face didn’t seem to mix with her inner confidence, but she just breathed slowly as instructed and closed her eyes for a second, gripped her suitcase tight, and stepped through the… * * * Day 1 – 9:33 A.M. PDT – Earth 2 “Talk about a rough landing, huh?” another one from Ashley’s tour group asked her as he hobbled forward with everyone else toward the sign marked ‘Busses.’ “Yeah… you could say that…” Ashley brushed off the feeling of exhaustion blanketing over her already but just seemed glad to be here now. ‘At least I didn’t stumble… would’ve made a terrible first impression with the Bigs… Lost an inch or two though I think…’ “Come on, everyone!” one of the Bigs directed as they stood erect against the wall along the hallway leading out. “Don’t stop. Plenty more coming behind.” Ashley might have looked to check if the Big was lying or not, but the sheer size and sternness etched deep into the Big’s face made her snap her head back facing forward. ‘Don’t question… don’t poke… at least not yet.’ Getting outside, the sun blinded nearly everyone, and Ashley had to shield her eyes away from its intense glare. Everything felt bigger… more tactile, more dangerous here already… and that included the sun. ‘Man… please don’t burn already. I packed my sunscreen down deep. I thought I wasn’t going to need it until later… Stupid brain! You should have remembered to always be prepared with that kind of stuff after Iran last year!’ “Alright everyone!” another Big announced, stepping up in front of the group. “Per your tickets, you all are here for the Hermes Travel Company, correct? First stop, Alati Lake City?” Almost everyone nodded with the exception of two who then checked their ticket and ran off to the signs listing ‘Prata’ and ‘Carson City.’ A few giggled at their expense. Smirking as well, the Big continued. “Excellent! All good now, I’m sure. Welcome! I’m Miss Ripert, your tour guide.” A few clapped, but most seemed more or less out of it already. “Now, I’m sure you’re all pretty exhausted, so just let me check you in and then hop on board. While you wait, let our driver, Stephen, take your bags. I promise… they will be safe.” Ashley didn’t like to let go of all her belongings here to a complete stranger, but she relented as the portly man ambled up and asked to take her suitcase with a smile. “Ashley Stevens,” she said boldly when asked by Miss Ripert her name and for her portal ticket and confirmation number. ‘Please don’t be an issue… I don’t think I can defy someone this tall on my first day… at least not feeling this tired…’ “Let’s see… Ashley… Ashley… Ash… ah! Here we go.” Scanning the ticket and verifying her number, the little tablet in her large hands beeped. “Perfect. You’re all set.” Ashley nodded. “Thank you.” Climbing on board next, she eventually found her seat. Moments after Stephen popped the bus on and it roared to life, Ashley couldn’t fight it anymore and sleep soon overtook her, blacking out the feed once more. * * * Day 1 – 2:50 P.M. MDT – Earth 2 The bus hit a bump, and everything popped back on suddenly. “Wha…?” Ashley sleepily stirred to life and instantly stretched. Looking at her watch, it showed that she had been asleep for over five hours. “Gessh… guess I really was tired.” ‘At least I memorized more of my backstory before I left instead of relying on the bus ride…’ The bus then started to turn and Ashley shifted toward the window from the force of the pull. It wasn’t major, but it was just enough that it slightly shifted her gaze to the left… which just happened to be the perfect timing to see a large glimmering city just out her window. “Wow… I guess that’s Alati Lake City…” “Yep,” another passenger on the tour bus confirmed. “Miss Ripert just announced that a few minutes ago. Should be arriving in the next hour or so depending on traffic getting into the city.” “Thanks…” Ashley smiled back at her fellow tourer and then looked immediately back at the city. A mirror counterpart of Salt Lake City, the surroundings seemed near identical, but here, due to the advanced technology, the city now almost seemed to shine like silver and gold against the bright sun overhead. The pale blue and expansive Alati Lake could just be made out to the west of the city against the backdrop of the near mountains. ‘I wasn’t so sure about this location… especially in comparison against all the rest… but I don’t think I’ll be disappointed here as a first stop… even if it is for almost a week.’ Minutes later, as if to confirm and elevate her excitement even more, Miss Ripert stood up in front of the bus. “We should be arriving within the city soon, and then it will be about another 15 to 20 to get to our hotel, depending on traffic. For now, though,” she smiled playfully and gestured outside of the lefthand of the bus, “this is Alati Lake City. One of the most populous cities in the state as well as being the capital of Utem. I’m sure in the next few days, all if you will get to explore the wonderful outdoor recreation and hub of religious culture that the city is known for.” Miss Ripert then cleared her throat. “That being said, though, I just wanted to give out a few warnings. Us Bigs are good people, but a few may be more inclined to certain… impulses. To avoid these, there are a few simple steps you can follow. Trust me, you’ll want to pay attention to these. They could just mean the difference of you all leaving back through the portal… or something more… permanent.” A few of the Littles murmured in fear, but most stayed silent and listened closely. “Now, first up, never talk…” * * * Day 1 – 4:55 P.M. MDT – Earth 2 Busses hissed to a halt outside the large and opulent sandstone and blue building that was their hotel. It wasn’t the tallest around, but the buildings on either side from this angle shrank close to the ground. As Ashley stared up at the tall building, she couldn’t help but hold her mouth agape in awe. ‘Wow… technology and art fused around here so seamlessly… and it’s only day one.’ “Okay,” Miss Ripert began to shout over the more populated streets, “we’ve all checked in and offloaded your luggage into your rooms for the night. With this tour, we will spend about six days here and in the surrounding mountains, exploring several sites and visiting several companies I think you might find most… illuminating.” Moving away from the hotel, Miss Ripert began to explain all about the city and its founding. “Founded almost two centuries ago now, a breakaway sect from the mainstream religion at the time settled here to practice as they wished. As a result, laws here became more flexible, and desires flared to make a city that would not only last the test of time but also break free of the shackles of many cities to the east that derived their city planning from Europa’s cities at the time.” Looking around as they walked, Ashley could see the validity of Miss Ripert’s words. While there was almost a neo-classical feeling to some of the buildings and statues around, there was also a clear push for styles corresponding to more retro-futuristic in some parts and touches of Brutalism in others. It seemed an odd combination, but it also gave the city a variety that was missing from most cities back on Earth lately. With many destroyed or in need of heavy repairs, most began to look eerily similar as they were rebuilt. Here though, the uniqueness along with clear city planning and a dash of color everywhere, stood out strongly in contrast. “Now, of course, subsequent renovations to them have closed this gap in recent years, but Alati Lake City stands as a testament to…” “Ophelia! Get back here!” a woman screamed from nearby. The group looked over and saw, with the reaction of many gasps of horror, a Little was running through the streets and away from a Big. “No, sweetie! Not into traffic!” Clearly panicking, she seemed to wilt in seeing the Little dodge cars whose hoods she barely stood over. “Someone! Anyone! Stop her!” Most of the group seemed stunned, but Miss Ripert acted quickly and used herself as a shield to block our movement any closer to the Little now blocking traffic. “Stay back everyone. They need to solve this on their own. Trust me… you don’t want to get involved.” As if right on cue, the crowd began to depart. That, and plus the stopped cars, formed some semblance of a circle around the Little, supposedly called Ophelia. From her expression, some doubt definitely seemed to be present in Ashley’s mind if that was even her name though when she first heard it. “Come on, honey. There’s no way out. Come back to Mama.” The woman Big seemed genuinely concerned about ‘her’ Little, but the whole scene still felt very much out of place and even illegal at times if looked at from the right angles… especially regarding the relationship between Big and Little here. Ashley edged forward, but Miss Ripert blocked her path to get a better look. Ashley’s frown showed she didn’t appreciate that, but not pushing it further, anyone could see that she was trying to listen in, despite her distance away from the scene. “Never! I would rather die than go back to be your baby slave!” The Little wasn’t calm, but was clearly level-headed enough to speak without any signs of mental or physical impairment. ‘I don’t know what would be worse to see… a Little that was mentally affected, or a Little that was so physically affected, that their mentality didn’t mean much anymore. Ugh… best not think about it, Ash…’ Regardless, the scene unfolding was aligning with what about Ashley had read about and then been briefed on before coming here. It was a terrible one, but it was realization of the truth that yes, there was a story here somewhere. Ophelia practically growled in response. “Heck no! You stay back, lady! I can’t even curse anymore because of you!” Ashley looked puzzled for a moment. ‘I wonder what the heck that means?’ She paused but then quickly turned her attention back to the unfolding scene between Ophelia and the Big. “You even forced me into…” An odd sort of look came over Ophelia’s face and her eyes squinted in pure hatred toward the Big. “You know what? I don’t need to wear these anymore.” She stomped her foot and then reached right under her dress… and pulled off her diaper, clearly being a cheap alternative that would even allow for that sort of thing. Most from Earth by now already had heard at least the rumors about ‘unremovable’ diapers, but from the reports, Ashley knew they were much more than just rumors. Still, despite the oddity of a Little even being able to tear off their diaper, it was still a clear act of defiance here and many gasped in the crowd around Ashley. “Take that, lady!” Ophelia hissed back at the Big with more confidence than someone who had just been wearing a diaper ought to have. The Big temporarily scowled. “Mommy! It’s ‘Mommy,’ Ophelia. Remember that?” Ashley seemed perplexed for a moment regarding the Big’s demeanor. ‘Which was she more upset about? The diaper or the lack of term to address her?’ “No!” Ophelia screamed again, this time stomping her foot on the ground and then over top of her diaper. “You’re not my mommy! My mommy is back home and…” Right as she said it though, it was clear to anyone watching that she hadn’t meant to say that… or at least not come across so childish when referring to her true parent back on Earth. Before anyone else could react though, a series of high-pitched whistles rang out through the streets and two police officers ran to the scene. “Ma’am? Is this one your Little?” The Big nodded her head. “I’m very sorry, officer. I promise you that she’s normally not like this. I…” “Ma’am… if she is under your care, then I’m afraid you are both going to need to come to court.” The officer didn’t mince his words at all, now only pointing back to where they had come from, which one could just see beyond the crowds was their police car. “Or… that’s at least what will happen if you can’t resolve this situation in the next minute, understand?” The Big now genuinely seemed fearful, but seconds later, resolved as well. Looking back at Ophelia, she smiled, but now also seemed burdened by the alternative if she failed now. Ashley leaned closer, knowing something was about to happen between them. “I’m sorry, Ophelia…” “Sorry?” Ophelia questioned. “Sorry for wh…?” Before she could speak another syllable though, the Big had rushed up to her, wrangled her into her arms, and then popped a large bulbous white pacifier in Ophelia’s mouth before hitting the front button at least three times. Needless to say, Ophelia seemed outraged and more worryingly, in pain now. ‘Wow… I hope I’m capturing all angles of this… this could be a great story… Poor Ophelias though…’ Ashley seemed sympathetic to a fellow Little, but the journalist in her wasn’t just going to stop and looking at this story from all the angles. Abuse. Being held against one’s will. Infantilization to the highest degree. A corrupt system. The normality of the treatment. Ashley could see all the titles of her next article so perfectly, but as she looked around, her smile of a possible story began to fade. ‘No one’s even batting an eye over this. If they’re not reacting harshly to this, then it’s already at least mostly normalized… which means there’s another story that no one wants to talk about… or even can for that matter. No… this isn’t my story.’ “Good work, ma’am. Just try to keep a closer eye on her. I might even suggest some… modifications, or some equipment maybe,” one of the officers noted swiftly once Ophelia had been pacified and was now being held firmly in place, not going anywhere… even as she struggled heavily… even more so after he mentioned ‘modifications’ and ‘equipment’ being used. “Now… being a parent myself to a Little, I might suggest you rediaper her. Never can be too careful, right?” The Big smiled and bounced Ophelia gently, despite her continued protests. “Oh no. Definitely not. Fortunately, we live right up the street. Absolutely not going to let her ruin the new carpet I just had put in.” A few of the Bigs laughed nearby but Ashley didn’t seem to know how to react. ‘If I laugh, I’m a terrible person without empathy towards a fellow Little. If I don’t laugh… I could seem suspicious. Ugh… well, maybe just roll the dice and see what happens.’ So, instead, Ashley just opted for silence instead of compliance. She seemed to catch the suspicious and maybe even evil glance shot her way by one of the locals, but otherwise, most didn’t comment. “And also… rest assured officer,” the woman Big continued, bouncing Ophelia in her arms, “little Ophelia here won’t be practicing anymore escape attempts under my watch. I can assure you of that.” She patted her Little on the butt a few times as Ophelia let out a small whimper of defeat and most definitely fear. The officer only tipped his hat, smiled, and left. As for the reactions from the rest of the tour group… they were less inclined to say anything. It only took a second though, to realize that most now seemed too petrified over what just happened in front of them. Most grimaced even further when the Big got Ophelia to wave her hand back at everyone and babyishly say ‘goodbye’ for her to the crowd there. It was an unsettling sight to say the least. Still, the scene now over, Miss Ripert glanced back at the group. “Now then… no worries, my darlings. Just a small escapee of a Little. These attempts happen all the time here now, but you have to give their tiny failures a little sympathy at least… and nothing more.” Ashley knitted her hands together, clearly trying to distance herself from all that was happening. It was all terrible to see, but the complacency of every Big now that Ophelia had been taken away was disconcerting. This wasn’t her story, but as Ashley listened on to excuse after excuse by Miss Ripert over what just happened, it felt more like a conspiracy embedded into the very fabric of the society here than anything else… and certainly not the fault of a small and clearly traumatized Little. Ashley didn’t have a story yet, but seeing it was only Day 1 and this had happened literally right in front of her when she wasn’t even looking, her overall confidence seemed to bloom that yes, she would find a story. ‘I vow to myself now… I’m not leaving here until I get the story I’m looking for. ‘Ashley Cutter’ will soon be a name on everyone’s lips back home. The Little that figured out the truth of this terrible place!’ It might have been a simplistic platitude, but it provided the tiniest of smiles. Even in a place like this, it was good to have hope that everything would be okay. So, for Ashley, that absolutely meant that by the end here, she would have her story.

Heyo folks! Sorry for a bit of an absence... I could just blame work, but while that was definitely a factor, this time it was for another reason. This one-off story right here! Or, well, that and the idea behind it. See, I came up with an idea for... a game! Basically, I'd been thinking about dating sims lately, and suddenly an idea popped into my head. Basically, what if one were to take the elements of a dating sim, but instead apply them in a different way... In this case, I'm calling it a Found-Family-Sim, and I'm gonna try to make it a point-and-click visual novel with plenty of choices! The player character, who can choose from several backstories as well as pick their gender and species, finds themselves in the beautiful and mysterious town of Cherry Lake. As they explore the town and get to know the townspeople and potential adoptive parents/families and begin uncovering secrets, they may notice that they seem to be... getting younger?! Players will find that their choices and actions have consequences, some small, others quite large, and that there are multiple outcomes to be found! It's an ambitious project for someone who has never programmed anything ever, and knows next to nothing about coding, but it's still something I'm gunna try nonetheless! Anyways, this little one-off is to introduce you to some of the characters to be found in Cherry Lake as well as a little bit of the town, and to highlight some choices to be made. Okay, rambling over, and I hope that you all enjoy it! Welcome to Cherry Lake by Panther Cub "Maybe I should pull over," Tyler mumbled to himself while he squinted to peer out his windshield. The windshield wipers were going as fast as they could to wipe away the torrential rain coming down, but it was only barely enough. As far as he could tell, the black winged cat was still on the road. His headlights illuminated the dark trees on either side of the road and lit up the dotted white lines in the center. He took a quick second to check his GPS, and huffed as it read No Signal still. Then, the sky briefly lit up, and there was a crack of thunder that sounded like a gunshot. "Holy crap! That sounded close!" Tyler fidgeted a little, wondering again if he should pull over. But looking again at the sides of the road, there really wasn't much of an 'over' to pull off to. Then, he rounded a bend and his heart leapt. Lights! The twinkling lights of a town, hopefully his destination, lay just a few miles ahead. As he drew closer and closer to the town, the rain started to taper off, quickly becoming just a light drizzle, and then dispersing entirely. Looking up a little, he could see some stars and even the bright full moon starting to come out from the cloud cover. The glow of the moon lit up the drenched surrounding area a bit, just in time for his headlights to shine on a big wooden sign on the side of the road. "Welcome to Cherry Lake," Tyler read aloud, his green eyes now wide open, "the hidden gem we're all looking for." He felt that that was a bit of a strange slogan, but just shrugged. It was at least painted in beautiful paw-crafted calligraphy in a bright green on the white backing. Passing by it filled Tyler with a sudden sense of giddiness, so much so that he let out a happy giggle. He quickly got himself back under control, figuring that it was just relief at not only being out of the storm, but finally making it to his destination. And hopefully, the place he could finally get a fresh start on life. The streets were still soaked as Tyler entered town, his tires splashing through the occasional puddle. He stopped at a red light and pulled out his notepad with the directions written down on the first page. He noticed a sheriff car pass by and briefly felt worried that maybe this small town might not be so welcoming of him. But he quickly shook that thought away as he looked again at the directions to Mr. and Mrs. Marble's house. With his dwindling savings, he couldn't believe he'd found a room to rent at such a low price. And calling up the couple to see if it was still available... something about how they spoke just put Tyler at ease, which had not been an easy feat considering how badly he was doom-spiraling at the time. Driving around a little more, he spotted a street named Joy Avenue, and quickly turned down it. Slowing down a little to read the house numbers, he came to a stop in mild disbelief. It was a white two-story Colonial-style, with large bay windows, large white pillars, an impressively manicured front lawn and squarely trimmed hedges with a gravel driveway leading to a two-car garage. Thankfully, despite it being nearly eleven at night, there were plenty of lights on inside. With a nervous gulp, Tyler turned into the driveway and put his car in park, hesitating before killing the engine. He reached over to the passenger seat where his two suitcases and laptop in its carrying bag were stacked, and started grabbing them. After shutting and locking the car door, he looked back up at the impressive house and steeled himself. Worst case scenario, he'd have to leave and park somewhere to sleep in his car for the night. Tyler was halfway up the front steps when the front door opened, and he was bathed in a soft yellow light. "Ah, there he is!" A smiling brown-furred rabbit wearing a blue polo shirt and khaki slacks stood in the open doorway, his blue eyes twinkling. "Glad you made it here in one piece, son!" "Is that Tyler?" A soft feminine voice asked, belonging to a light gray rabbit in a bright blue dress, a frilly pink apron tied around it. Her brown eyes lit up with excitement as they beheld the winged cat. "Oh my goodness! Look how big you are!" "Uh..." Tyler stood there, stunned at the friendly voices he quickly recognized, being just as warm and welcoming as they had sounded over the phone. "Mr. and Mrs. Marble? It's, uh, n-nice to meet you!" He set down one of his suitcases and held his paw out to shake. Mr. Marble shook his paw and chuckled some more, startling Tyler as he pulled him into a hug. "We're huggers around here, son," Mr. Marble said, letting Tyler go and giving his headfur a ruffle. Tyler could feel his cheeks reddening beneath his black fur. "Harold, help the boy out of the cold! And sweetie, you look like you're absolutely famished. Please, let me make something nice and warm for you." "Uh, th-thanks, b-but I can carry it--" "Now, now, son. It doesn't hurt to let someone lend a helping paw once in a while," Harlod said, grabbing the suitcase with a grunt and herding the feline into the house. Tyler looked around, spotting a large family portrait. Mr. and Mrs. Marble were sitting under a tree on a bright sunny day, sitting in their laps were three young kits, two boys and a girl. Everyone was wearing their Sunday best and clearly in the middle of laughing. Seeing the picture brought back memories, bittersweet ones that he'd been trying to forget. "We took that picture last Easter," Mr. Marble said, causing Tyler to jump. "It was right before the big Egg Hunt!" "O-oh?" Tyler remembers scrounging around bushes and looking under rocks in search of colorfully dyed eggs to put in his basket, excited for each and every one he did find. "Yup! Here in Cherry Lake, it's actually a pretty big festival! And it's not too far off if you think you'd be interested in it." Mr. Marble gently clapped Tyler on the back. "Wait, do you mean helping set up and hide the eggs?" "Well, yes, we certainly can always use a helping paw when we're setting up for a festival around here," Mr. Marble chuckled while herding the winged cat down the hall and towards the kitchen. "But I also meant to join in on the fun! There's an Egg Hunt for the kits, and then one for adults." "Really?" Tyler felt the faint embers of excitement at the idea that he might get to be able to play the game again, after all these years. "Yup! First prize for adults is usually a gift certificate or voucher from one of the shops here in town. The kids basically compete for baskets of candy and toys, though the winner gets a really big one." "Oh, Harold, I know how excited you are for community projects, but Tyler just got here. Let's let him decompress after such a big trip and then get some shuteye. Then you can start trying to recruit him into helping out his new community!" "Yes, Clara," the bunny man chuckled and gave Tyler a mischievous wink before setting the suitcase down next to a pulled-out chair at the table. Tyler sniffed and winced as his stomach audibly growled. Mrs. Marble giggled as she stirred a pot on the stove, using her free paw to flip something over in a skillet. "Sounds to me like you could use a nice warm meal before bed, young man. Go ahead and take a seat, I'm almost done." "You don't need to fuss over me, Mrs. Marble, honest," Tyler said, feeling his cheeks flush at the sound of further giggling. "Oh hush now. I love cooking and we're not gunna let our special guest who'd just been out in the cold and the rain go to bed without something warm and tasty in their belly." Not wanting to be rude, Tyler sat down. A few seconds later, a bowl of steamy tomato soup and a plate with a golden brown grilled cheese sandwich, cut into triangles, as set before him. "Dig in, honey!" His tail giving a happy swish, Tyler picked up one of the triangles, feeling a little giddy at the sight of the stringy cheese, before dipping it into the soup. After letting it soak up all that tasty tomato goodness, he raised it to his mouth and took a bite. Tyler actually had to fight back tears, as the flavor washed all over him. Memories of being small and home sick, with a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich always helping to make him feel better. "Oh my goodness! It's just so wonderful to know that it's not just my family that likes my homemade tomato soup!" Clara Marble said, clasping her paws together. "This is homemade?" Tyler asked in amazement, dipping some more of the grilled cheese into the red steamy liquid. "It sure is, hun!" Clara looked like she was about to say more, but froze, her ears twitching. Her smile never wavered, even as she started to put on a stern-looking face, her paws on her hips. Tyler briefly worried he had done something to offend the kind rabbit lady. "Alright you three! It's rude to spy on our special guest. Come on out now." Tyler looked confused until he heard some snickers coming from around the doorway. In trotted the three children from the earlier family photo, now all wearing pj's. "Everyone, this is Tyler. I expect you all to be on your best behavior and make him feel welcome in our home." The trio nodded, all gazing curiously at him. Admittedly, it made the winged cat feel a little nervous. Almost like they knew something he didn't. Clara then gestured to the tallest of the bunnies, a girl with mostly white fir with a few caramel splotches. "This is Claire, our oldest at age eight." "Nice to meet you, Tyler!" She said with a giggle. Next to her was a gray-furred bunny boy, wearing a bright red cape attached to his deep blue pajama shirt. "Here is Jonny. He can be a bit of a ball of energy, but what six-year-old isn't?" Finally, the smallest of the trio stepped forward. He had all-black fur, was hugging a purple teddy bear that matched the color of his footed sleeper, and he had a bright blue pacifier in his muzzle. "And this is our littlest, Colin. He's a bit shy, which can be pretty normal for a two-year-old. He's also just the most inquisitive little guy you're ever gunna meet!" There was a lull in the conversation, and Tyler quickly realized that everyone was looking at him expectantly. Feeling his anxiety start to rise a little, he tried to think of what to say... "Yo, wassup l'il homies!" He internally shook his head at that, figuring that would just result in them pointing and laughing at him. H-hi there, guys! Tyler winced a little at just imagining how awkward he felt he was going to sound. "How's it goin', ya weird little munchkins!" He frowned, thinking that one sounded a little too mean. Deciding on the second option, Tyler smiled, doing his best to sound more confident than he did in his head. "H-hi there, guys!" He winced again, feeling even more awkward than he had been expecting it to feel. The children giggled, with the littlest bunny boy smiling up at him before walking up and wrapping his little arms around Tyler's leg in a hug. There were some coos from the parents and Claire at the sight. Blushing a bit, Tyler reached down and ruffled the little kit's headfur, not knowing what else to do. Colin beamed up at him with bright blue eyes. "Alright you three. It's time to head back to bed now that you've all introduced yourselves." Colin reluctantly detached himself from Tyler's leg and gave a wave, one which the feline was quick to return. Tyler then froze when Mrs. Marble turned towards him. "And don't think I've forgotten about you, young man. As soon as you've finished your meal, you'll be needing some shuteye, alright?" Tyler was quick to nod, his face heating up a little. He jumped a bit when he felt a paw clap his shoulder. "As soon as you're all finished, I'll show you your new room," Harold said with a twinkle in his eye. Tyler nodded and sat back down. Reflecting on the interactions was quite the surprise. Having spoken to Harold and Clara over the phone when he'd found the advertised room for rent, they had both been pleasant and polite, but he hadn't been expecting something as... warm and inviting as this. Thinking back to his own childhood household... yeah, on second thought, probably best not to go there. Soon enough, the soup and remaining grilled cheese is all gone. Making sure to rinse off the dishes in the sink before heading up. Only now did he notice the soft eggshell blue of the wallpaper, offset by the earthy chestnut brown hardwood flooring. The staircase leading up had a white bannister, with photos of the children at different events and stages of life lining the wall up to the next story. "Thanks for rinsing off your dishes, Tyler." Harold praised, making the winged cat jump and his fur stick out in surprise. "Uh... n-not a problem, Mr. Marble." Tyler blushed at his mumbling. The gentle pat on the back made him look up at the bunny man. "Now, now, please, call me Harold!" "... O-okay, Harold." Harold's eyes twinkled again in amusement. "Now let's get you to your room! It's the one at the end of the hall." As Harold led the way, Tyler followed behind, his wings gently flapping a little. The first door they passed was open, showing a bathroom, with two little colorful stools sitting next to the sink, presumably for the boys. Next door was closed, with Claire posted on it in bright pink and glittery wooden letters. Catty corner to her room was John's door, as his had the same wooden letters sticking to it, in red and blue. Next to John's bedroom door was little Colin's. His was halfway open, green and orange letters spelling out his name. Inside, Clara was sitting in a rocking chair next to a solid oak crib, the little kit in her lap, hugging a blue plush dragon and sucking on his binky. She was quietly reading him a bedtime story, the entire scene just tugging at Tyler's heartstrings. "Here we are, Tyler," Harold said, pushing open a soft white door. Tyler smiled, the room painted a deep forest green, which went well with the hardwood as well. There was a desk resting under a window with a matching green curtain covering it. Tyler's luggage was set on top of an old-fashioned steamer trunk set at the foot of the queen-sized bed. Off to the side was a door that opened to a private bathroom, with an indoor closet close to it as well. Above was a ceiling fan with lights and a small lamp on the bedside table. "Now I know that it's a bit spartan, but I'm sure we can make it much more comfortable for you as you get all settled in." "N-no! It's fine as it is!" Tyler said, meaning it. "Are you sure? I mean, before, it had been decorated by Claire for a little sleepover she had with some of her friends... and we figured that you might not appreciate all the bows and ruffles and lace and glitter." Tyler tried to repress a shudder at the thought of him sleeping in such a room. "If you'd prefer a change, don't be afraid to let us know... even if you'd like us to put it back to its pretty princess theme." Tyler rolled his eyes, and shook his head. "Uhm... thanks, but yeah, I think I like this best." "Okay, Bud! Now if you need anything, feel free to come and get us, we're just upstairs." "Will do, Harold." Tyler smiled. "Goodnight, Tyler," Harold said, heading to the door. "Goodnight." Finally left to his own devices, Tyler went to his suitcase and unzipped it, unfolding his clothes and hanging them up in the closet. He stopped and looked at his dark blue suit, considering wearing it to his upcoming interview. It was his best suit, one of the last gifts his father ever gave him... and yet his eyes were immediately drawn to some tears down the right lapel, stitched together the best he could, but noticeable nonetheless. His frown deepened as he took in the left side, in the midsection, where there was a large slice also stitched closed. Despite the dark blue, he could still see some of the bloodstain. His paws started to shake and his breath became more rapid as looking upon the suit brought him right back to that terrible night... NO! He won't think about it tonight. Getting it on a hanger, he hung it up in the closet. Next to it was a bright green polo shirt that would go well with a pair of khaki slacks. While a suit and tie were typically considered more professional for a job interview, the shabby state of his only one did not sit well for Tyler, On the other paw, the green polo and khakis was a look that also seemed professional, and the fact that these were new and devoid of any cuts or blood stains... The winged cat took a moment to consider it, and decided to lay out the polo and khakis for the interview. He let out a yawn and changed into his favorite pj's, a simple gray tank top and matching shorts, Tyler went into his new bathroom and brushed his teeth before slipping into bed and turning out the light. He had just closed his eyes, when he heard a quiet creak from the bedroom door opening. Cracking open his eyes, he saw Colin try to tiptoe into the room, his arms behind his back. "Colin?" Tyler said in a quiet voice, sitting up. Startled at being caught, the little black bunny jumped a bit before looking down at his feet, covered in his purple footed sleeper. Still sucking on his binky, the bunny approached Tyler and pulled his purple teddy bear out from behind his back. He pushed the plush towards the grown cat, eyes wide and hopeful. Tyler thought about his options. His first option would be to gently refuse the toy, but he got the feeling that it would make Colin upset. He could accept the plush friend and worried about anyone finding him with it. Would the Marbles' assume he'd just taken it from the baby of the family? Or would they find it weird that he'd sleep with a stuffed animal? Looking back down at Colin, Tyler sighed and smiled, taking the teddy-bear from him. "Th-thanks, little dude. I'll hold onto him for a little while, okay?" Colin happily nodded and practically ran back out the room, letting out an excited giggle. Tyler felt good about making the little guy so happy, but then looked down at the purple teddy bear. It had black button eyes, a bright pink nose, and a small smile stitched onto its muzzle. Something about the plushie just felt so... familiar. Getting back under the covers, he turned the bear over, that familiar feeling really starting to bug the feline in the back of his mind. Just as he was about to set it on the bedside table, Tyler let out a large yawn, and curled up, unaware that he was hugging the bear to his chest now, and drifted off to sleep. The Next Day... Golden sunlight shone down, causing the dewdrops to twinkle as Tyler slowly drove by. After a quick, yet delicious, breakfast of oatmeal with some fresh raspberries added in, Harold and Clara wished him a good day just as they started to get their kits ready for school, and in Colin's case, a playdate. The more he observed the Marble family, the more Tyler felt a pang of hurt. Pushing those feelings aside and concentrating on the directions that Harold had given him to get to his interview. After leaving the quaint neighborhoods behind, Tyler stopped the car at an intersection, his breath catching in his throat. Houses and buildings gave way to the sight of the lake that the town took its name from. It was massive with crystal clear waters lapping against a nearby dock. Practically ringing the body of water were cherry blossoms, in full bloom. Reluctantly, as he felt he could just stare at the picturesque scene for hours, he turned right and headed up the main street. It was actually pretty quaint seeing all the little businesses he was passing by. He spotted a surprisingly large raccoon man in a green apron sweeping the sidewalk in front of a bakery. He spotted Tyler and smiled, giving a hearty wave, which the feline returned. As he drove on, in the direction of his upcoming interview, he once more couldn't believe his sudden stroke of luck. Having been looking down the barrel of homelessness, now here he was, in this idyllic little town, renting a room with the last of his dwindled savings, about to give his all to land a job at said town's local candy factory. Cresting a hill, he could see it, a large building built right next to the water, a giant water wheel turning in a river feeding into the lake. The building seemed to be made of brick, and was painted a bright cherry red. "Here goes nothing," Tyler muttered to himself, briefly checking to make sure his fur still looked brushed and presentable, and that his polo shirt and khakis were wrinkle free. Giving his reflection a nod, he continued on towards the unknown, feeling a burst of confidence bloom in his chest. Let me know what you guys think of the idea so far!

Hey everyone and welcome to my new story! It has the same title as a story I began a few years ago and since deleted as I wasn’t satisfied with it. Completely different story apart from it revolves around British characters visiting the US. Hope you enjoy! ————— Chapter 1 “Have you got everything?” Kerry said as she joined her son Ben at the end of the airport security scanner conveyor belt. “Yeah all good, I’m glad my bag didn’t get pulled to the side for any searches!” Ben said as he picked up his suitcase and set it down on its wheels. “Oh they rarely do. Shall we go and get some breakfast?” Kerry suggested as she led him towards the vast duty free area of Heathrow Terminal 5. Although it felt like it, this was far from a holiday for Ben. Only a few months after his nineteenth birthday, his mother had decided now was the right time to look at out of the box solutions to a problem that had plagued him for most of his life. At least 4 or 5 mornings a week, Ben would wake up either with wet bedsheets or a soaking adult nappy. They had visited multiple doctors and specialists and none of them could get to the bottom of why he was having trouble staying dry at night, and it was becoming a real concern for Kerry who realised he’d soon want to be moving out and starting a life on his own. For this reason, and after days of research, she’d found a clinic in the US that specialised in bedwetting in teens and adults that seemingly had a 90%+ success rate. Luckily for her she worked as an accountant and was also boosted by generational wealth so it was no problem paying the associated fees to get her son to this clinic. After some pushback he reluctantly agreed to take the trip and she decided she’d accompany him to make sure he was buying into the treatment. “So looking at the itinerary, I think the clinic has a taxi ready for us when we land at JFK!” Kerry said as she held her phone in one hand. “That’s cool. Mum are you absolutely sure about this? I looked up the clinic and they don’t have much information on their website. Is it definitely legit?” Ben asked. “Ben don’t worry sweety. I’ve spoken to them on the phone quite a few times and they are definitely real, and the results speak for themselves. This could really change your life. Now come on and finish up your breakfast, we’ve got to get you ready for the flight before we go to our gate” Kerry ordered. Ben scoffed the remains of his beans on toast and him and Kerry made their way to the nearest toilets. As Ben was about to head into the men’s toilets, his mum grabbed his arm and stopped him. “I think it’ll be a good idea if I give you a hand, let’s go in here” Kerry said as she led him into the disabled toilet, with no fight from Ben. Kerry grabbed Ben’s bag and opened it up, revealing a stack of Goodnites next to a stack of Tena Slip Maxi’s. Ben’s mood dropped when she saw him pick up the latter. “It’s a long flight and you’ll probably fall asleep so I think it’s best you go with a nappy Ben okay?” Kerry explained. “Mum don’t call it that!” Ben snapped back. “Sorry, I mean a ‘Tena’. Hop up on there” Kerry corrected herself as she pointed towards the changing table. Ben reluctantly hopped on and allowed his mum to strap him into a nappy. This had become a regular occurrence most mornings and he was beyond the point of embarrassment. Once he was strapped in he stood up and pulled his grey joggers over the top of the nappy. His bum looked slightly flat but thankfully it wasn’t overly obvious he was wearing a nappy. They then left the toilets and took the long journey over to their gate ready to board the flight. There was already a queue but Kerry had purchased priority boarding so it wasn’t long before they were heading down the walkway towards the plane door. “Welcome onboard” the air stewardess said in her American accent. Ben couldn’t help but slyly look her up and down and admired her tight pencil dress and he thought how incredibly hot she was. He nodded and she smiled back, which made him blush. “Here we are Ben, do you want the window seat?” Kerry asked as she placed both of their bags in the overhead locker. “Yes please” Ben replied as he shuffled over the aisle and the middle seat before plopping down on his seat. Kerry saw his nappy poke up over his joggers as he shuffled across the seats. Ben then quickly got to work scanning the in-flight entertainment and discovered that there were loads of new movies he hadn’t seen yet and smiled at the thought of watching a few. The plane quickly filled up and before he knew it they were preparing for takeoff. All of the pre-flight rituals were being carried out and he just stared out the window waiting to watch the plane take off so he could get a view of the English countryside disappear into the clouds. Once they had taken off, Ben was preparing to settle down to watch Deadpool vs Wolverine. He looked over at his mum who was reading one of her many novels she loved reading. “Mum I’m going to watch a film now so don’t expect me to respond if you try and talk to me!” Ben said as he nudged his mum’s arm. “Okay sweety” Kerry replied not even looking up from her book. Ben placed his headphones back onto his ears and he locked into the film. After about 45 minutes or so he began to feel his eyes getting heavy and despite fighting for another 20 minutes or so, he succumbed to tiredness. They had had a very early start getting to the airport and his lack of sleep had caught up with him. Despite his eagerness to watch the film, he just couldn’t stay awake. He was jolted awake by a crescendo in the third act of the film, and simply opened his eyes as if he’d not missed any of it. As the credits rolled, he sat up from his slunched position and looked around the plane to see everyone preoccupied by the screens in front of them. As he sat up straight, he noticed an all-to familiar sensation and his exploring left hand confirmed his suspicions. His crotch felt puffier than it did when he first sat down and he concluded that he must’ve wet himself after falling asleep. It wasn’t completely soaked but his Tena was noticeably bulkier than before. Annoyed with himself but not at all surprised, he looked over to his mum who had now also fallen asleep. After debating in his head, he decided to nudge her arm a few times to wake her up. “Mum. Mum!” Ben whispered. Eventually she woke up. “Yes Ben? Is your film finished?” Kerry asked. “Yeah it has. But it’s not that” Ben said quietly. “Oh, did you fall asleep?” Kerry said as she looked down at his lap. “Is it that noticeable?” Ben asked as he looked down as well. “No no I just know what you’ve got on underneath! How wet is it?” Kerry asked. “Doesn’t seem too bad but I definitely wet it” Ben said quietly, trying not to catch the attention of anyone around them. “Well we’ve only got just under 2 hours until we land and the toilets are too small on here for me to change you so you might have to just sit in it until we’re in America. Can you manage that?” Kerry explained. “Yeah okay mum” Ben agreed. For the rest of the flight, Ben made sure not to fall asleep again in order to avoid any further wettings. Once they had landed, both Kerry and Ben headed to the toilet where she changed him out of his wet nappy and back into some stripy red and grey boxers, which he much preferred. After a good hour getting through security, they retrieved their bags and headed to the exit of the airport. “Oh look there’s our ride!” Kerry said as she pointed towards a tall brunette woman holding up an iPad with their names on, and the logo of the clinic underneath. “Kerry and Benjamin Chandler? Welcome to the United States! Ready to go?” The woman greeted them. “All good, great to be here. Thank you so much for picking us up” Kerry replied. “Our pleasure. It’s all part of the package! Let me take your bags” the woman then placed their bags on a trolley and they headed to the parking lot, where they were bundled into a large black people carrier. As they got in the back they marvelled at the lavish interior complete with leather seats and an ice bucket with bottles of water inside. They also noticed a screen just in front of the front seats. “You guys get comfortable, we’ll be at the clinic in an hour or so. As part of onboarding, the clinic have created this welcome movie for you guys to watch. It’ll set it to play once we hit the road” the woman explained. “That’s amazing thank you so much. I never caught your name?” Kerry enquired. “Oh of course. My name is Maria. I’ll let you guys relax and let you know when we arrive. Enjoy the journey!” Maria replied. A pane of glass then hummed from the ceiling and shut them off to the front seats and the TV screen booted up. After a few minutes it began to play a video. “On behalf of the Rockaway Clinic, we’d like to welcome you to the United States. My name is Dr Luna Jones, lead doctor at the clinic. This video is to put any nerves at ease and help you get to know what we’re all about” the tall, beautiful blonde woman, who looked no older than 40, explained as she stood in front of the futuristic white building. For the next 45 minutes, both Kerry and Ben watched a tour of the clinic. It looked like a super modern version of the private clinics they’d been to in England and they were shown case studies of other ‘residents’ varying in age and gender. Admittedly it did what Dr Jones said and it did calm Ben’s nerves, it looked quite nice and everyone seemed very friendly. Before they knew it the car eased past a set of big security gates and the clinic came into view. “Here we are, welcome to the Rockaway Clinic!” Maria said as she pulled up to the main entrance. As Kerry and Ben stepped out, two members of staff opened the boot and took their bags as Maria guided them into reception. As the doors opened, they were met by the sight of Dr Jones herself. “Kerry and Benjamin, welcome were so glad to see you! How was the flight?” Dr Jones asked as she shook both of their hands. “It was very smooth actually, this place is incredible!” Kerry said in awe of the building she was in. “Thank you, we’re very proud of it! I know you guys are probably tired but would you like to start the induction process? How does that sound Benjamin?” Dr Jones asked directly. “Yeah okay, thanks Dr Jones” Ben replied. “Let’s get this show on the road then! And please, call me Luna” she replied as she led them into one of the induction rooms. It looked like an doctors office with a desk and some accompanying chairs. Luna sat at the desk and Kerry and Ben sat on the chairs to the right of her. “So hopefully the video you watched on the journey here has done some ground work for me but I’ll cut to the chase. As you know our clinic specialises in treating, and hopefully curing, nocturnal enuresis. Now you’ve obviously been super helpful filling in all the necessary paperwork prior to arriving but I’d just like to ask a few questions” Luna explained. “Benjamin are you happy to answer a few for me?”. “Yep happy to” Ben replied. He was used to this considering the amount of doctors he’d seen. “First question. How often do you wake up with a wet bed, or wet protection?” Luna asked as she began making notes. “Maybe 4 or 5 times a week” Ben answered. “Okay. And you were protection every night? What type of protection?” Luna continued. “I do. And sometimes I wear Goodnites, sometimes Tenas” Ben answered confidently. “Great. And on a scale of 1 to practically unconscious, how deep do you sleep?” Luna asked. “Probably an 8 or 9” Ben estimated. “Brilliant thank you so much Benjamin. Those were helpful answers, but you’ve also shown maturity and acceptance of your condition. That’s sometimes hard to get from some of our residents” Luna explained. “So a few things you need to know during your stay. Firstly you’ve been allocated a twin dormitory on site which has everything you need for your stay. Full catering is available, as well as fitness and entertainment facilities” Luna elaborated. “Wow sounds amazing! Weird question, but what’s expected of me during treatment?” Kerry asked. “No problem. Of course you’ll be providing moral support to Benjamin, but we also like partners and parents to be an active part of treatment so you’ll be getting involved at certain points. When you are not needed, there are plenty of others here in your position so feel free to socialise with them” Luna said. “So Benjamin a few things for you as you’ll be the one receiving treatment. In order to encourage our other residents to feel at ease and equal to others, you’ll be provided with clothing that you’ll be expected to wear during your stay, which are in the changing room next door”. Ben was slightly surprised by that. He’d packed two weeks worth of clothes which have now been rendered useless and he was anxious to see what this ‘uniform’ looked like. “Okayyy” he said rather nervously. “Your treatment starts officially tomorrow, but part of that includes providing you with certain supplements and nutritional extras so your diet will be controlled as part of treatment. It’s totally harmless and everything we do will be to help treat and cure your condition. I understand you signed the contract before arrival?” Luna enquired. “Yes we did. That’s all covered” Kerry replied on Ben’s behalf. “Perfect! So next steps are for you to get changed Ben while I go through some of the boring legal stuff with your mom. It’s just through the door there” Luna pointed at a wooden door on the opposite side of the room. Ben looked at Kerry, who looked back at him with an approving nod. “See you in a second” Kerry said lovingly. He then stood up and walked towards the door. As he opened it he was met with the sight of a changing room not to dissimilar to a changing room in a clothes shop back home. It had a mirror, bench and a coat hook which had a hanger with a suit bag hung on it. He slipped off his shoes and began to unzip the bag. He saw a white tracksuit with white trousers, a white t-shirt and a soft zip up jacket all emblazoned with the clinic logo. The trousers and jacket had a grey stripe down the arms and legs. As he pulled out the clothes he noticed that there was a pocket which had a pair of plain white underwear in it. He was surprised that the uniform included underwear but accepted it for what it was. But as he pulled them out he noticed they were briefs, which he was absolutely not used to. Back in Britain, men his age did absolutely not wear briefs and they were seen as childish and infantile, he hadn’t worn them since he was a little boy. After some hesitation, he began to undress himself and put on his new ‘uniform’, complete with his new underwear. It was quite comfortable, apart from the briefs which felt weird. As he looked in the mirror, he actually looked pretty cool he thought; as if he was an athlete getting ready to walk out onto the pitch. After one final look he folded his own clothes and walked out to see Luna and Kerry going over some documents. “Looking good Benjamin! Maria is waiting outside to take you to your dormitory. I’ll see you in the morning for your first day of treatment! Have a lovely evening” Luna said as the door opened to the sight of Maria. “Thank you so much Luna, we can’t wait to get started can we!” Kerry said excitedly as Ben nodded along. Maria then led them down multiple corridors, some with doors that had signs on such as ‘Treatment Room 1’, ‘Communal Room 3’ and ‘Transition Room 6’. Some had red and orange labels on them and some didn’t. Additionally, some corridors had sights of outdoor spaces and gardens. They also passed couples varying in age, with some clearly parent and child and some husband and wife. What was consistent is that one of the pair was wearing exactly the same tracksuit as Ben, but some had different red or orange pin badges. He wondered what they signified. “Here we are. You’re room 056. Inside is a manual and all the timings and dates you need. Dinner is served at 6pm, so you’ve got an hour or so to get settled. See you there I’m sure!” Maria explained as she turned and walked back down the corridor. Kerry unlocked the door with the key card and they were met with a spacious white room complete with two double beds, a living area with a TV and a huge bathroom. There was also another door next to the bathroom door but it seemed to be locked. “Wow look at this Ben! Incredible!” Kerry said. “Our bags are here too”. “I shotgun this bed!” Ben said as he jumped on the bed closest to the floor to ceiling window, which looked over a vast garden complete with a pond and loads of benches. He saw more couples and families walking around and enjoying the clinic. “Okay okay. I’ll unpack, are these the clothes you were wearing?” Kerry said as she picked up the pile of folded clothes he had just taken off. “Oh, are these your boxers? Did they give you some new ones?” Kerry asked as she saw his stripes boxers on top of the pile. “Oh yeah they did. I thought it was a bit weird too, they aren’t even boxers” Ben explained. “What do you mean?” Kerry asked. “They aren’t boxers, they are briefs. I think the Americans call them ‘tightey whiteys’” Ben joked. “Ha ha ha that’s so funny! Let’s see” Kerry asked. “No way!” Ben said as he stood up at the end of the bed. Without warning, she yanked down his white trousers. “Aww they are so cute! You’ve not worn pants like that since you were a little boy!” Kerry teased. “Mum please!” Ben said as he quickly pulled up his trousers. “I’m only teasing you, I’m just excited to be here. I think this is the answer to all our problems this place!” Kerry said as she picked up the laminated piece of paper on the desk which was labelled ‘Daily Schedule’.

A Good Psychologist Hello all… it’s been a bit since my last story…but I decided to write another one, I was going for something short but it seemed to run a little longer than expected… I have been working on it for a while, and though it’s not exactly any kind of a new idea, it’s what I like so. I tried to write it in first person and found that to be harder than expected, I really found the past or present tense to get a little confused, but I’m pretty sure there won’t be any publishers fighting over this. I don’t mean to insult anyone’s profession, nor did I do any research or really know anything about psychologists. So to be clear this is a fictional story, that twists the discrimination of “forced” for my own mental health.(I don’t think it’s extremely healthy to fantasize about being forced into regression, but sometimes you like what you like, and try to accept that) Also I do not mean to offend anyone by categorizing groups or particular desires, again just a fake story. I hope that some of you enjoy it, and I do enjoy your comments, unless they’re mean. I don’t mind constructive criticism, but there’s nothing helpful about mean. And!! I think it’s kinda a happy ending. Chapter 1 Hello my name is Jon, actually it’s Jonathan but most everyone just calls me Jon. How to start such a strange story I guess at the beginning… I graduated top of my class with a doctorate in psychology in my early 20s and soon after got married to my best friend and beautiful wife, Maureen. After working for a private practice for a couple years I decided to start my own practice. The first couple years were not easy, and I had to work hard to accumulate patients, and keep money flowing, being on my own was not easy. However I was driven, and very interested in helping people. I soon started writing a book, and through research, and my passion. I found an editor, and got the book published. It turned out to be a huge success in the psychological world. Now in my mid 30s my clients became the “cream of the crop” as they say, and I became highly regarded, and sot after. My patients soon became all upper class people, and with that their highest priority was privacy and quality care, which I was able to provide with my small practice and excellence in the field and attention to detail. I would use many tactics to help my clients and finding the right approach for each client was not easy. I found the most effective approach was to reach my patients was true empathy, and whether my patient was a board house wife to a rich husband or a drug addicted rock star, my main goal was to be able to connect with them at their level and work together to find ways to make our lives better. Even though most of my patients were very first world problems that normal people might find insignificant they were very real problems to my clients. My wife educated with a financial degree soon became my partner in business as well, with book sales and high end patients, we quickly realized I did not need to handle it alone, and we would be the perfect team. Her position initially dealt with scheduling, billing, and supplies, but she slowly developed into helping comfort the patients, and setting up situations for my patients and I to overcome. That may sound deceptive and sometimes it was, but I assure you it was always in my patients best interests and I feel like by the end of the therapy I truly I had a new friend. I always felt like Maureen, and I had a perfect relationship, we shared interests, helped each other, and communicated well. Our sex life wasn’t overly complicated but I always felt like we connected and shared satisfaction. Even though we discussed it, so far we haven’t had any kids. I wasn’t against the idea of being a father and really wasn’t precautious but it just never happened. I always just assumed if it was supposed to happen it would, and I felt like Maureen felt the same. So our lives together seemed as perfect as it could be. We ran a successful business from our house, financially comfortable, we had friends, vacationed regularly, and generally enjoyed our lives, all before our 40s. With all that being said, my passion was my work, I wanted to find more answers, I wanted to be able to share and help those that needed it. So I started my second book. The first book as I earlier mentioned was edited and published by a company and this company was also eager for me to get a another book in the the works, “strike while the irons hot” as they say. But with the new technology of AI, and looking at the publishing fees, profits, and retail costs, I decided that I could not only make more money, but sell the book cheaper online if I did it myself. So last Christmas Maureen and I went to our local Apple Store, and went crazy we not only got new laptops equipped with the latest AI software but also got new phones, watches, and earbuds. This was a huge upgrade, and because we were getting on the same network we were able to have all the devices connected to each other wirelessly and to back it up further there was the cloud. We really got into the whole system, I named my phone Sandy and had her have an English accent, mostly because I thought it was cute. Maureen’s phone was Henry and she had him sound a little thuggish which was also funny. Soon we found ourselves having another couple around the house to talk with regularly, most mornings I would wake up and I simply had to say “Sandy, how did I sleep? What’s the weather going to look like today? What is my earliest appointment” she was always quick to respond and soon it was like having new family members, that were always there listening and quick to respond with accurate information. Now here I am most days either seeing patients or quietly working in my office, earbuds in, thumping across my keyboard of my laptop writing my new book, complete with quick access to Sandy for spelling and punctuation corrections and easy access to the World Wide Web for any earlier studies published. Also being able to compare my clients and experience. It was an extremely productive way to write a book. Another thing that Sandy was able to help with was my health, I am not completely sure how it works but through my watch she established my systems normals, she put out on a daily basis my sleep efficiency, stress levels, mood, heart rate, and system functions. She would also encouraged diet and exercise routines, it was quite remarkable. However I didn’t take her advice usually, but over a few weeks her small suggestions seemed to help. One of her biggest concerns regarding my health was my sleep quality and time, which she would regularly encourage me to go to bed earlier and remind me of high sugar or caffeinated foods and beverages that would interfere. It was kinda like having a mother at times. I found it kinda fun to reply with a snide remark and in some cases straight up rude. She would say something like “Jon it is now 9 o’clock, I suggest you should consider preparing for bed and please refrain from sugar or coffee” And I would reply “ Fuck off sandy” or “who do you think you are.. my mother” or “Sandy I will do exactly what I want so screw you” And she would simply reply “Jon I am simply suggesting things to help you feel better” But over a few weeks I found myself going to bed a little earlier, so I guess the system worked. However I have never been a great sleeper so my sleep report didn’t get significantly better. My wife Maureen on the other hand had her own health report and Henry would similarly report his findings and suggestions to her, but it seems his findings were significantly different than mine, she apparently slept too much, and his suggestion were that she needed to bring her heart rate up more often and her metabolism would follow. Now I don’t think my wife is fat or anything but she’s definitely full figured, and not that size ever mattered in our relationship but she’s a good bit bigger overall than I am, not that I am particularly small either. I am pretty average, close to 5’7” and something like almost 150 lbs. and she’s like just over 6’ and I’d guess 200ish pounds, not that I ever asked or would I. So her conversations with Henry in the evenings while she snuggled into the couch dozing off, would go something like this. “Maureen it is only 7 pm maybe have a cup of coffee it’s too early for bed” And her response was something like this “Henry I will go to sleep whenever I want to so stick it” But just like me over a few weeks she stayed up a little later. And just like me it wasn’t completely effective because she tended to sleep in a little longer. Now one time Henry tried to wake her up a little early but apparently if you make it completely clear that you don’t want to hear a suggestion the AI system will not suggest. So that was that. So here’s where things get a little bit weird. My wife received the call from the well to do family near by. I couldn’t help but over hear her side of the conversation, by this point my wife became very smooth and comfortable with almost any conversation with any of my patients. So it caught me off guard when I heard her stutter her words uncomfortably in response. The conversation went somewhat like this “Hello this is A path psychology how may I help?” In Maureen’s sweet and comforting tone. “Yes this is Jon’s office” “Well unfortunately his schedule is fairly full this week but..” “Well, Yes Mrs Crull I have heard of your family” “Uh… so is this an emergency?” Then I overheard a very strong voice from the phone repeat the question. My wife held the phone a little further from her ear and calmly responded “Can you please describe the nature of your emergency?” And again I heard the strong female voice say “My fucking pansy son won’t quit wearing diapers” Now with this, my wife seemed to be a bit stuck for words but eventually repeated “Diapers?” Which now I was standing next to her as I heard Mrs Crull reply “Yes Fucking DIAPERS” My wife looked confused as ever and continued to respond calmly “Diapers…well I don’t understand what the emergency is” Which was quickly answered by Mrs Crull even more harshly replied “He’s fucking 25 years old” At this point I gestured to take the call by putting my hand out, which my Maureen just raised her eyebrows with a smile and handed me the phone. I quickly replied “Yes Hello Mrs Crull this is Jon how may I help?” Mrs Crull seemed to calm down a tad upon hearing my voice and gave me a quick harsh reply “Yes Jon, my son needs to be seen today, I will make it worth your while, and you need to make this happen” I really didn’t need to spend any more time speaking with this delightful woman so, understanding the influence of the particular family and a reasonable amount of curiosity with a slight mix of greed, I simply replied “3 o’clock “ Which was quickly returned with the sound of a phone disconnecting. I looked at my wife and raised a eyebrow back at her with a quick smile “This should be interesting “ That afternoon in between a few other patients, I had Sandy google adults that wear diapers, even though I have heard of this type of behavior, I wasn’t very familiar with the condition, I just hoped I would find a slightly better understanding. Unfortunately the sites that I found seemed mostly like porn sights, and found really no dependable sources for in-depth information. So with that I decided I would simply wing it, and derive a plan after the first meeting. My wife and I eagerly awaited by the window for our new customer, and at 10 til 3 a Mercedes-Benz Maybach pulled into the driveway, and a bottled blonde woman erupted effortlessly from the driver’s side back seat barely before the car came to a complete stop. She quickly rounded the car in I’m guessing 4” high heels and opened the passenger side rear door and without hesitation or even a struggle pulled a large young man from his seat. I overheard my wife as she directed the man up the sidewalk quietly say “well you don’t see that every day” The man held a blank expression as I correctly assumed his mother directed him from behind by his shoulder. The situation seemed to stick with me for a moment there was a couple of things that caught my attention First he didn’t necessarily look upset, either he was used to being pushed around or he wanted it. Second even though Mrs Crull looked to be in decent shape she could not have actually forced her son to move from the car let alone up the sidewalk. He was a fairly large man. Third he was clearly wearing a diaper. The childish T-shirt he wore was riding up his stomach clearly showing his white waistband of a disposable diaper as his mother pushed at his shoulder and the sweat pants though baggy were clearly sagging off his waist, and puffed out around his hips. Which he made no attempts to hide. I made my way towards the front door as I expected to hear a knock, surprised by the door being pushed open and the young man pushed inside. I quickly regained my composure as Mrs Crull stopped and letting go of her son who stumbled forward a step. I held my hand out as I introduced myself “Hello I’m Jon and this is my wife Maureen and we…” Mrs Crull without even looking at my held up hand interrupted. “This is my sorry excuse for a son, he seems to think he wants to be a toddler or something … I might have fucked him up but you need to fix this shit, I will be back to collect his sorry ass in a hour… and I had better see some progress” She was turning back out of the still open door with no attempt to close it behind her as she finished talking. I was surprised to hear her take any responsibility, for “ fucking him up” but as smoothly as possible I simply turned and looked up at the man standing in front of me, and calmly said. “Like I was saying I am Jon and this is my wife Maureen and this is my home as well as my practice A path psychology” The man blinked firmly and focused his eyes on me with a stoned look on his face simply and clearly replying. “I’m Mike” He made no attempt to shake my still held out hand. I gave him a light pat on his upper bicep and still in a calm and relaxed tone said. “Ok well hi Mike… why don’t we go into my office and get a bit more comfortable.” He tilted his head slightly at least acknowledging I had said something and I turned towards my office a few feet away, I heard a soft crinkle noise behind me, as I held the door open and he toddled by me, I gave my wife a glance again with raised eyebrows as she returned the same look and she shut the front door as I shut my office door. The first meeting went as I expected, if I had any. As I sat into my large office chair and grabbed a legal pad I looked to direct Mike, but as I turned in his direction he had already found his way and with a soft crinkle sank onto the couch. His familiarity with the situation made me think this is not his first therapy session. I went through the typical questions, “Mike how old are you?” He quietly replied “26”….“Do you have any drugs or foreign substances in your system?” “Do you want to harm yourself or anyone else?” “Do you feel like you are in danger or is there anything that might cause you physical harm?” “Do have any physical disabilities or ailments?” “Do you have a job or profession?” “Are you married or have significant other?” “Do you have any children?” In which he continued to answer quietly “no” to each question. He sat comfortably with an occasional shift into the couch, without any look of concern. Mike looked a little messy in a childish T-shirt and sweat pants but I wouldn’t say he looked dirty, he had obviously taken a shower and shaved recently his hair was short, and was just shuffled into place. In fact I would say he was a handsome fellow, probably about 6’2 or so, maybe a little chubby but not fat. So I finally asked about the elephant in the room. So your mom says you wear diapers? Still calm and comfortable he replied “Yep” So I obviously was only going to get one word answers, so instead of pushing to get him to open up about the subject I decided to just go with questions that were easy one word answers, with the little information I got from a limited amount of research I came up with the obvious questions first. “Are you incontinent?” “No” “Do you like wearing diapers?” Yup “Is it a sexually exciting “ “Sometimes” “Do you wear them all the time?” “Yes” “How long have you worn diapers “ “A while” “Do you use the diapers?” “Yes” “Do you think you are a small child?” Mike responded with a slight frown as he answered “No” The next obvious question especially given the slight frown was, “would you like to be a small child?” I again caught an uncomfortable look, but again a short answer “Complicated” with a short sigh. I couldn’t help by try to get a little more out of him, so I had to ask. “Would you like to elaborate?” He answered quickly with again a blank expression “Nope” Which was no surprise to me. Well believe it or not I actually felt like I got somewhere with my interrogation, and decided that was enough. I needed to derive some kind of plan before any pushback could occur, since I still had like 45 minutes left I figured I could just talk for a bit expecting no answers. “So… I guess I’m in a bit of a pickle here. First of all since there is no clear signs of any actual emergency, and second I really don’t see any actual danger or even a problem really, with your choice of underwear, I don’t think I will satisfy your mother’s requirements for improvement. But I think I can deal with that. However I can understand to some degree her discomfort in your choice of underwear, and I don’t think you should make it any of her business. To be completely honest, I really don’t know much about what is called Infantilism. Which seems to be the condition you display. So my first plan is to try to gather as much information as possible on the topic, as to best support you.” I paused for a few moments as he blankly looked back at me. “Once again I particularly don’t care about your bathroom habits or your choice of underwear but, I also feel that your life can become more comfortable if you were to at least consider to conceal your underwear, especially around your mother, and my job is to help make your life better.” I thought about it a few seconds and looked at Mike, who maintained his nonchalant appearance. I felt like it was good advice. However I also realized it was not any solution. I sat quietly for a long minute or so. I really didn’t expect Mike to respond, but at this point I really had nothing else to say. So that’s exactly what I said. “At this point I really don’t have anything to say, if you want to talk or elaborate in any way I am here to listen. We still have about a half hour left so just make your self comfortable, if you should need a bathroom feel free to use the restroom in the entryway.” I gave him a small smile with that. For the next 1/2 hour we sat quietly. I thought about how exactly to help this situation, and even though I didn’t think it was a dangerous situation in anyway, or there was any harm in wearing diapers. I couldn’t help but think a healthy functioning adult would not want to wear diapers. My first thought was why, and I decided that the only way to find out was to try it myself. Soon enough as I pondered, the large sedan pulled back into my driveway I sighed slightly as I turned up to look at Mike now with his eyes closed, saying calmly. “You’re mother is back Mike” I remained seated and watched Mike slowly open his eyes stand up and wobble slowly towards the door, as he got to my entry way he stopped pulled his sweat pants up over the waist band of his diaper and tightened the draw string then pulled his T-shirt down. I thought well that’s a start. I simply said “thanks Mike” My front door was again pushed open and Mrs. Crull commanded my attention as her heals clacked against my hard wood floor. She wasn’t even completely through the front door before saying “At least I can’t see his pissy diaper” as she looked at her son. She continued to walk towards me and past her son with effortless motion as I started to say “Hello Mrs. Crull can I have” but I was interrupted as she grumbled “Go wait in the car” which was obviously directed towards Mike. She stopped in the center of my office and dug briefly into her purse. I couldn’t help but study her as it became quiet for a bit. The best word to describe her was perfect. Her blond hair wrapped perfectly around her head, down just past her shoulders. Her make up was blended perfectly without even the slightest blemish, while outlining each feature perfectly. Her pale pink business suit formed around her body perfectly, leaving just the top of her cleavage exposed, highlighted perfectly by a very expensive looking necklace. Every part of her was manicured or manufactured precisely for her today. I really couldn’t say how old she was, somewhere between 40 and 60 I’d guess. I however wouldn’t use the word attractive. I couldn’t help but think, it must be tough to maintain. I barely started a sentence as I was again interrupted. “You are highly recommended, which comes with high expectations, which will be difficult to achieve. Today is Monday, and I expect for you to see my son again on Thursday at 3 pm and every Thursday at 3 until further notice. I will not be accompanying him. Here is a check for 100,000 dollars, with this I expect to see real results in the next 10 weeks. You do understand who I am. I expect complete anonymity, if I so much as hear my name and yours in the same sentence, or you don’t live up to expectations, let’s just say you’re life will become much less comfortable.” She placed the check on my desk as I stood there dumbly with my mouth still open. Without any hesitation her heals clacked against my hardwood floors as she walked directly out of my house. I collected myself briefly and picked up her check, and looked at the 5 zeros following the 1, realizing the check was as real as the threat. I turned to see my wife with a very surprised look on her face, say “what are you going to do?” My answer was quick “going to the store” as I handed her the check and headed for the front door which was still open. She hesitated slightly then asked “for what?” And I responded “Diapers” as I shut the front door behind me. Chapter 2 A half hour later I hustled up the stairs to my bedroom, with a package of adult diapers under my arm. I quickly kicked off my pants, and underwear as I ripped open the package, flopping onto my bed, and sliding a diaper out of the pack. I could hear Maureen calling ”Jon? Are you here?” As she made her way up the stairs. I flipped the flimsy plastic material this way, and that as I unfolded the thin padded garment in front of me. Finally I slid the diaper underneath me, and struggled to see what exactly to stretch around me. I looked up as my wife stood in the doorway, with a smirk on her face. “Jon relax… it’s not running away!” She said with a chuckle. I fell back in frustration to the bed, as Maureen pushed my knees apart, that hung over the edge. She pulled at the diaper, saying “lift your bum… Jon I know this is important but you need to calm down… you have 10 weeks and I’m sure you’ll work this out” while she spoke, she calmly nudged my butt back to rest on the diaper, before finishing her sentence she folded it over my groin, and I could hear the tapes as she wrapped it around me, and finished the process with a light pat on my penis. I knew she was right, but I wasn’t feeling too patient. I stood next to the bed, and stretched about a bit trying to figure out how to make it fit. I looked down at the garment, trying to understand why anyone would want to wear such a silly thing. It wasn’t comfortable, and crinkled loudly as I moved. I looked at myself in the mirror, it looked medical, and sloppy with a blue line running down the center, and extra plastic hanging off the edges, nothing about it even seemed childish. My wife looked at me still with a light smile saying “what do ya think?” The first response I could come up with was “I don’t think I am going to understand this, I can’t see why anyone would want to wear one of these” her face kinda fell, as she asked “well what are you going to do?” I shrugged in responded “keep wearing them” she rolled her eyes, and turned to leave as she replied “ok sounds like a good plan” with a good bit of sarcasm in her tone. Then on her way down the stairs she continued to say “Why don’t you put some pants on and come down to dinner” I sat down in my normal spot at the kitchen table, as she set my dinner in front of me, and noticed her iPad, and cell phone across the table. My wife taking a more serious tone continued our conversation. “So Jon… I couldn’t help but overhear the delightful Mrs. Crull’s…. Threat? And since this particular situation will most likely impact both of our…lifestyles significantly, and it does seem to have, well let’s just say it appears you may need a little help. I decided to do a little research on this… subject on my own.” Typical I don’t get my wife to involved with therapy techniques, or any kind of diagnosis of my patients. I don’t want to degrade her in anyway, but I am a highly educated psychologist, not to mention quite accomplished, and she is really good at accounting, and business. However she is correct in that this could potentially effect both of our lives drastically. So in this case I have no option but to listen to her “research”, and replied “what ya got?” She started flipping through her iPad as she spoke. “Well I don’t know what our Mikey had to say today, but it seems he is into something they call ABDL, which stands for adult baby diaper lovers. Now it seems there are several sites on the internet that people like him join. Where they actively engage in a multitude of things…like sharing stories, and reviewing products, or whatever. There definitely seems to be quite a few people interested in this, like this site has almost 60,000 members. There doesn’t seem to be any typical age, or sex, looking through a few profiles there’s girls and boys of all ages. It also, looks like there is two different… uh kinks? kinda I mean they’re obviously related, but some are like just into the diaper thing, so they’re DLs, and they don’t seem to be into the baby thing, and others are, like more into, I guess you might say regression, making them ABs. So do you think our Mikey is a AB or a DL?” I was in the middle of chewing my food, and carefully paused a bit. A couple things that jumped in my head bothered me. First I didn’t really like referring to my patient as, “our Mikey” I don’t know why but it just bothered me. Next I didn’t think basing my psychological research on some kinda fetish website was a good idea, we needed actual psychological research done by actual professionals, but there was no way I could tell my wife, that her information seemed irrelevant, not that she would let me anyway. So I thought for another second and answered, as I swallowed my food. “Well given his childish t-shirt, and his answer to the question I asked him. Do you want to be a child? And I quote “complicated” I’d say he’s more AB.” My wife seemed to be processing that information for a few seconds, while again scanning, and flipping through her iPad. “Well I guess we can go with that… but there seems to be a slight divide in this group as well. Some seem to find the uh… situation? As uh well sexy… while others seem to just find it… comforting? Or maybe relieving, and a few of those seem to think it’s… I guess you might say inappropriate to find it sexy. So do you think Mike finds it sexy?” She smiled a touch as she finished her question. My response was pretty quick having no reason to delay. “Well I know it’s not much to go on, because I only got one word answers out of him, but I did actually ask him exactly that, and his response was ‘sometimes’ so there’s that” She stopped looking at her iPad and even had a pleasant look of accomplishment while she summarized. “Well given that, I’d say our Mikey seems to be a adult baby that finds it sexy” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her, thinking very scientific diagnosis, but I didn’t think it would help much to reply. I finished my dinner quietly, then felt the familiar pressure of having to pee. I stood up, and causualy made my way towards the bathroom, when it dawned on me I was wearing a diaper. I turned towards my wife as she cleaned up the dishes, and , said “I have to pee” She gave me a quick so-what look but stopped, and replied “oh…ya…uh well, so what are you going to do?” I knew that the situation was inevitable, but I really didn’t have a plan, besides I had to try to figure out why, or what was so attractive about wearing a diaper. So this is definitely part of that. I gave her a questioning look, and said. “I guess I will use this thing.” I stood there awkwardly trying to figure out what was the best position for this, and slowly spread my legs slightly looking down at my pants. I tried to release the building pressure, but nothing happened. My wife watched with a curious smile, as I tried, eventually saying “well?” My response was immediate. “I just can’t do it!” “What do you mean, you can’t do it?” “I don’t know…it just won’t go” She laughed a bit, and replied “well maybe you don’t have to go” “I sure feel like I have to… it just won’t come out” “Maybe it’s a head thing… go stand by the toilet, and try there” I gave her a exasperated look, and walked up to my bathroom, lifted the seat, and unbuttoned my pants, then felt the unfamiliar plastic where my penis usually is. Finally with a light grunt I felt a stream flow. I turned to see my wife standing at the door now with a wide smile spread across her face. “What’s so fucking funny?” I grumbled. As I felt the warm liquid fill around my groin. She only shook her head and chucked in response. I tilted my head back, and sighed as I heard the weird hissing noise, as pee sprayed against the inside of the diaper. I could feel a puddle forming in between my legs. Then suddenly I felt liquid escaping around the inside of my thigh. I panicked, and tried to stop my flow, but I couldn’t, then I felt pee rolling down my other thigh as I struggled to grab or prevent the diaper from leaking, calling out “it’s leaking!! The stupid thing is leaking!!” My wife laughed out loud as I pulled my pants below my knees seeing the yellow liquid flow down the inside of my legs, and darkening my pants, as I continued to pee. Finally I clinched shut as pee soaked into my socks. My wife laughing, and saying “Oh calm down Jon… it’s just a little pee… we’ll have this cleaned up in no time” I grunted in response as I stepped onto each pant leg, and pull my legs out, then repeated the process with my socks. “The stupid thing leaked.. what the fuck… why would... this is so stupid!” Saying as I released the tabs on the diaper letting it fall with a thunk. I finished undressing, and climbed in the shower as my wife picked up the mess, and asked, “what are you going to do now?” I thought for a moment as I turned on the shower… what was I going to do? The check for 100,000 dollars shot in my head, and the very real threat that came with all that money, I had no choice. I had to figure this out. I had to find a way to connect with Mike, we we’re going to solve this together. I harshly replied “What am I going to do? I’m going to keep wearing them.” My wife again replied with a sarcastic response, “Ya great plan… keep wearing them” The next couple days dragged by. I continued to wear the diapers and gradually was able to wet them without standing in front of the toilet, but it wasn’t easy. I had to try to release my pee, then had to really focus, and not to pee too much. I reduced my fluid intake, and tried to pee as soon as I felt any pressure. So occasionally when I got that right, and I didn’t leak, it felt like I was sitting in a puddle. There wasn’t anything even a little pleasant about wearing a wet diaper. On top of that I searched for any real research on paraphilic infantilism, which is the condition Mike displayed. However there was very minimal research documented, and any studies concluded that it was caused by various underlying issues with no evidence of any cure. So I was going to have to figure this out completely on my own. If this didn’t seem bad enough. I had my wife who seemed to find the situation amusing. Chapter 3 So as Thursday afternoon rolled around, my plan was to show Mike, I was willing to wear a diaper, and see where that went. Not a great plan. I sat in my office feeling slightly anxious as a newer Audi pulled in my driveway. Mike slowly, and carefully slid from the drivers seat, pulled a back pack over his shoulder, and walked awkwardly up the sidewalk with his legs spread out as far as possible. I rolled my eyes as I thought, this couldn’t be good. What could possibly be wrong now. He shoved through the front door, and waddled towards me with a look of discomfort. I quickly said “Hi Mike how’s it” but he interrupted me “Can I use your bathroom?” I pointed to the restroom still in the foyer, and he stumbled by, and shut the door. Then the smell hit me, and it became obvious what the problem was. I shut the front door, giving it a couple waves in hopes to clear the air, and returned to sit, and wait in my office. About 10 minutes later Mike finally appeared. He walked directly out onto the front porch, and left a small, heavy looking trash bag outside, and shut the front door, then he much more smoothly walked into my office, and sat on the couch, without saying a word. I noticed he now had no expression of discomfort, or really any discernible emotion at all. So I started the appointment. “Hello Mike how’s things going?” Which he only shrugged in response. “Well so I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to wear diapers so, I tried it myself, in fact I’ve been wearing them all week” I finally got some reaction from him, and he looked at me as if I poked him with a pin. “You’re wearing one now?” I stood up, and pulled my pants down a bit exposing the diaper, as I replied “Yup” “You’ve been wearing those diapers all week?” Mike quickly asked with a questioning expression Again I said “Yup” “And you have been using those diapers?.. for anything at all?” I couldn’t help but feel a bit concerned, and stuttered a bit “well ya… ya I’ve been uh…wetting them” He paused in thought, and his expression changed again to more of a mischievous look asking. “So you’re telling me that you’ve been wearing THOSE diapers all week, and you have been peeing in them?” My concerns continued to grow, thinking where is this going, but I slowly nodded, and said “Yes” A smile grew across his face like he was a attorney, and just won the big case, and asked “and how’s that been going for you?” I could tell he was definitely up to something, and knew I had to answer completely honestly. “Well to be honest.. horribly, first they’re hot, and itchy generally uncomfortable as hell, then I can’t get use to wetting them at all, sometimes I have to go stand in front of the toilet before I can even go. Then I can’t pee too much because they leak right away, then if I am able to wet them, without leaks they feel like I’m sitting in a warm puddle until it gets cold which is worse. I can’t understand why anyone would want to wear them.” Mike seemed thoroughly entertained by my review, as he replied he started digging into his backpack. “I can’t believe you’re wearing a diaper! That’s so funny…I’ve never had a therapist or whatever do that, and you’re totally right about those cheap ass store brand diapers, they totally suck. I don’t even know why they make those (He held out his hand with what looked like a thick stack of diapers) here try these.. there’s only three of them there, but they last a lot longer and they’re so much more comfy” I was so excited to be connecting with him, I would have taken a handful of used diapers, my plan was working we we’re going to be best friends in no time. I leaned forward to accept his gift, and replied. “Are you sure you don’t need them?” “Nope you’re good. I got cases of them, I’m going 24/7 so it’s best not to run low, but they might be a bit big on you, if you want you can get a smaller size online at medical supply stores, and if you try you can even get them the next day” I took the stack of diapers, and could instantly feel they were much better quality, like thick, and sturdy but the outer cover was soft, I couldn’t believe there were only three diapers, the same size stack would probably be 10 of the ones I was wearing. “Ok thanks I’ll check it out” I paused for a second, and wanted to keep the conversation going so I needed something more to discuss, and asked. “24/7 what’s that mean?” “Oh 24/7? That means wearing a diaper 24 hour a day 7 days a week…everything in a diaper” “Geez that’s quite a commitment, I don’t think I could do that.” “Ya it’s tough… this time I’m going on almost 2 months, but I can’t say that a few times I didn’t think that regular underwear would be easier, but this is the longest I’ve made it yet.” My mind cheered with enthusiasm, not only were we really connecting. but I could see a real possibility that he would get back into underwear soon. I had to keep my cool though I couldn’t push too hard, but I needed more information. “I have a hard time just being able to pee in the diaper, it would be real hard to do this for two months” He was eager to share his experience and quickly answered. “Well confidence in your diaper goes a long way, just drink lots of water, and it gets easier over time. I can pretty much pee whenever ….but also I use hypnotic recordings, I just listen to one as I go to sleep. I am not certain they work, or maybe I haven’t found the right one, but you can find tons of them for free online” My mind just hoped to the next question I had to keep him talking, and he seems really interested in helping me. “Hypnotic recordings? How would that help?” “I think the key is to actually need your diaper, so you have to wear diapers, it’s supposed to do that, but I don’t think I have had a actual accident yet.” I looked at him in shock realizing he was trying to become completely incontinent. The next sentence just feel from my mouth. “Why would you want that?” I regretted it as soon as I said it, and it wasn’t just the question. It was my facial expression of disgust, my ridiculing tone of voice. I totally fucked up. I could see his face drop, his realization that he was talking to a psychologist, then he said the word that I hated to hear. “Whatever” I tried to apologize but I new it was over. We sat quietly for the rest of the appointment, and about 10 til 4 he slowly picked himself off my couch, and slowly walked towards the door. I had to say something before he left, but the best I could come up with was “Mike I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to offend you” Mike slowly turned back, and gave me a sad look “I know Doc… maybe I’m just a little sensitive… I’ll see you next week” I just nodded in response. As Mike backed out of the driveway. I just sat there in thought, I had to fix this, how could I be so stupid, I had to find a way to reconnect, at least I think he’s giving me another shot.

This is a new story entirely based on fantasies that I have written with 22 chapters. Translated from another language. Here are the first two chapters. African experience By Sandman Chapter 1 - Africa Rob stretched out his legs on the couch and enjoyed an extra cup of coffee. The apartment that he rented was really something very special. Not least the large roof terrace where he sat and enjoyed his new life. The tranquility, the pleasant tropical heat, the view of the leafy pool area. Everything felt good. That he hadn't done this before! Rob almost got angry with himself when he thought about it. Financially, it wasn't a big deal, and he could do his job just as well here, if not better. It was still a bit nerve-wracking to have moved to a completely different part of the globe, but it had been a much-needed change of scenery. Now he was in place. Far, far from home in a continent where he didn't know a single person. Rob had landed yesterday, Wednesday. The journey had been stressful with unnecessarily long waits at three different airports. Passport control at the arrival had not impressed and the same with the baggage handling, but in the end, he had at least sat in the taxi with all his luggage. But it had been a struggle. For a long time, Rob had thought that his luggage was delayed or even completely lost. A small "bonus" to an employee at baggage handling had solved the problem. The first thing Rob had done when he arrived at Palm Court was to throw his bags into the apartment and buy a cold beer at the pool bar. After just a sip or two, Rob felt that the travel fatigue was starting to subside. The area felt calm and nice, and he had enjoyed watching the two African women sitting on the table next to him, drinking a cup of coffee. The move to Africa had come at a good time. His best friend and training partner Dan had also moved. Quite far away as well, which meant that they wouldn't be able to see each other very often. When Rob had been given peace that Dan was going to move, he too had started to play with the idea of replacing the safe everyday environment with something new. Something exotic. Pretty soon plan A had become Africa. A gigantic continent that Rob had only read about. Now he was there, and his apartment would be the central point of his new life. The interior designer had done a good job. The apartment was fully equipped and even the fridge and pantry were stocked with the basic items that he had specified. He was already starting to feel at home. Palm Court was a large condominium. A gated community. It was an oasis in the middle of the city with walking distance to incomparable beaches, restaurants, bars, nightclubs, you name it. Rob was in paradise. The only thing he really lacked right now was love, a girlfriend. He didn't need any other company. In that respect, he was very different from his best friend Dan, who could barely stand himself for an entire evening. Rob, on the other hand, needed to be completely by himself quite often. That was when he sat and wrote his books, but he also liked to roam around all on his own. Aimlessly and anonymously. Especially when he was in a city. However, Rob was not a lone wolf, and after a period of writing, he often had a pent-up need for socializing. Lately, Rob had started to think a lot about the future and thoughts about starting a family, but so far, he was not ready for family life with a house and dog. Being single still had some unbeatable advantages, which Rob made sure to take advantage of. He appreciated being free as a bird and being able to enjoy casual sexual acquaintances, but he didn't want it that way in the long run. Rob's plan was to take it easy for the first few weeks. Acclimatize and get to know the surroundings. He had also decided to put work aside completely for a while and treat himself to a soft start. The goal was to find a balance in life where a central part of everyday life would be about physical exercise. The training served as lighter fluid for Rob. It was during the training sessions that the ideas rushed forward and gave him a boost in his writing. A well-functioning home was also important. The less he had to think about simple everyday problems, the more focus he could put on his book projects. He had come a long way with the apartment, but he needed to hire someone who could clean and do the laundry. Apparently, it was a popular second work because Rob had barely landed before he ran into the cute girl at the pool bar who immediately offered her services. They had agreed to meet today, Thursday and she seemed perfect for the job. Above all, because she worked in the area and was already safety audited and approved. Rob had just finished a quiet and nice breakfast when there was a knock on the door. The bartender girl stood there with a smile on her face. ” Hello Mister! Do you remember me?” ” Hello Esther! Of course I remember you. Nice to see you again.” The answer from Rob was not a standard comment that flew out of him just to appear polite. The black woman in front of him, who was both socially gifted and sexy, appealed to him in many ways. She seemed to be somewhere in her 30s and after just a few minutes she had wrapped Rob around her little finger. Rob should of course have asked Esther for references at similar jobs, but you only live once, Rob thought and let his eyes choose. Esther was hired on the spot. A while after Esther had left the apartment, Rob had gone out onto the terrace and looked out over the pool area. He could both see and hear that there were a lot of families with children on Palm Court. These were families who seemed to live a privileged life, quite different from the much poorer families outside the fence. Rob could see that many of the housewives had nannies who played with the children, while their husbands were probably out at some well-paid job. Chapter 2 - Medical examination When Rob eventually went out on his first walk outside the gates of Palm Court, he had unexpectedly received a minor culture shock. Rob had in his wildest fantasy not imagined that there would be so few Westerners living here, but now he understood better. Esther had told Rob that expats in the area very rarely came from outside Africa. The same thing with the tourists. In other words, Rob was an odd bird, but it was one thing to hear someone else say it. Now he experienced it with his own eyes, and it was clearly a bigger adjustment than he had expected. Locally, people would refer to him as "the white man". The pale face. No personal name was needed because he was the one and only. The locals didn't mean anything bad by calling him "the white man". It was just a well-intentioned and apt description of his appearance, but Rob still found it a bit difficult. He wished he had been anonymous and discreet, instead of lighting up the sky like the pole star with his pale complexion, but deep down he felt that he would adapt. He would just have to give it some time. Because even though he stood out, he was met by smiles and the city and life on the street felt both harmonious and pleasant. Certainly, he could see that there were large gaps between rich and poor and that it was best to avoid certain areas, especially at certain times of the day. But it was nothing unique to this city, but a typical metropolitan phenomenon. One of Rob's first reflections on strolling around was that the women looked different from what he was used to. It wasn't the color of the skin that he was thinking about, but the anatomy and their sexy tits and asses. The girls were simply a little curvier here. But just like at home, it was a blissful mix of women with different looks. The difference here seemed to be that they were very proud of their bodies, even though they had a BMI far above ideal. Everywhere he saw upright women who unabashedly and naturally emphasized their feminine attributes. Over the years, Rob had had some hot relationships, but his paths had never crossed with a black woman. It had only happened that way because he had grown up and lived in environments where everyone had been white. Now it was just the opposite and only the future could answer whether this was where he would find the love of his life. The dream of a romance made him feel elated and he walked straight towards the beach. The tropical heat was oppressive, and he tried to walk slowly to avoid getting soaked in sweat. Down by the beach, Rob found what he was looking for. A simple lunch restaurant overlooking the sea. Rob took a deep breath and looked out over the green-turquoise water. Life felt like a luxury holiday. Gone was the gray everyday life, the stress and the scheduled day. Rob enjoyed seeing and hearing how the waves rolled in towards the beach, he enjoyed seeing all the happy people, who, just like Rob, appreciated the relaxed life with sun and sea. Pretty soon, Rob received renewed confirmation that he stood out with his pale skin. Some passing women had taken a detour near Rob's table, where they had discreetly stopped and straightened their bikinis or bent over and seemingly brushed off a grain of sand on a toe. It was women who wanted to show off their beach-clad bodies. Women who wanted Rob to look at them and Rob liked what he saw. He met their eyes with a happy smile. Rob marveled at how quickly humans took a liking to a person of the opposite sex. A quick glance was all that was needed for the blood to flow in the crotch, which then triggered hopes and feelings of pleasure. Rob was reminded that he longed for physical closeness to a woman. Life in Africa had started well and the lunch gave Rob another push forward. He was happy to be able to live this life. Pleased and satisfied after the lunch on the beach, Rob felt ready to make a visit to the gym. He had quickly walked past and looked in from the outside and it looked promising. The well-equipped gym was just a small part of the Micasa Health Club at the Palm Court pool area and membership was included for adult tenants at Palm Court. Rob was keen to continue with the training program that he had been doing regularly for the past few years, but there was only one small detail he had to investigate before he could train. Rob had read that you had to show a medical certificate before you could train. There must be some formality that they don't apply, Rob thought as he opened the front door and stepped into Micasa. ” Hello Mister! Welcome to our Health Club! I’m Faye, the gym instructor. What can I do for you sir!” ” Hello! Thanks! I’m a bit interested in starting to train in the gym.” ” Perfect! Please allow me to demonstrate our facility.” "Yes, please do!" The gym seemed well equipped, and the area was large and fresh. After showing Rob around, Faye asked if he had any questions. "Eh, I read something about medical certificates. Can I just show my certificate from home?" "Oh, no, unfortunately it is not possible. We have a requirement that you must be examined here at the club by our own staff. Should I book an appointment for you?" "Uh, .. Yes, please, that would be nice." "Let me see. We have an appointment free today at 14:30.” "Okay, that’s fine. I'll take it." Damn shit, Rob thought. For some reason, he hated health checks. He was fit as a fiddle but still there was something about being examined that he didn't like. A little frustrated by the bureaucratic rules at the gym, Rob went back to his apartment. Just before the agreed time, Rob walked down to Micasa, dressed in his gym clothes. His hope was to be able to do a proper workout immediately after the examination. "Hi Faye! Now I'm here for the health check. Where should I go?" "Hello! Come with me, I will show you where Fatima is housed." They walked in the opposite direction to the gym and at the end of the corridor was the examination room. "Hello Darling,” said a very beautiful woman. Rob had seen her before both at the bar and in the pool area. "Hello" he replied happily and was a little surprised that he suddenly started to feel very shy. "Are you closing the door on the way-out Faye?" said Fatima. "Yes boss! He is all yours" Faye replied with a smile and left the room. "Okay. Then we will start by filling in some information in the journal. "Fatima took out a tablet and logged in to an app. Then Rob had to answer an insane number of questions between heaven and earth. Every single vaccination was documented, as was basically every patch and cold he had had since he was an infant. It was as if the questions would never end, but suddenly Fatima said. ” Baby, please be so kind and take of your shoes, socks and t-shirt for me.” Okay, now it was apparently time to examine the body for real, Rob thought. He did as she said and wearing only sports shorts and underwear, he was thoroughly examined. She listened to her heart and lungs. Checked his blood pressure. Pricked his finger and took a blood sample. Rob even got to ride an exercise bike with a heart rate monitor around his chest for 10 minutes. Everything seemed to be normal. It was now that Rob thought Fatima was done, that all that remained was to print and sign the certificate. That he would get the green light to train at the gym. But the examination was not over at all, and Rob did not see it coming. Fatima took him completely by surprise by resolutely pulling off both shorts and underwear in one quick movement. What happened next almost made him go underground. The latex glove, the Vaseline, none of that he had paid attention to. No..she can't.... Upff.. Her finger had quickly found Rob's little hole, and she hadn't hesitated for a second. Now he stood there with her finger deep in his ass and was so ashamed that his cheeks had turned bright red. ” Relax baby.” Rob was far from relaxed and felt extremely embarrassed. However, Fatima seemed to enjoy the situation. ” Okey Darling. Does it hurt?” "Uh... no" "You like? " "Eh, well, .. uh.. I was not prepared for eh.." ” Baby, don’t be shy, just relax and be a nice little boy?” Her free hand cupped around Rob's balls, and it felt a little too nice to avoid erection. Rob's cock was growing and he really had to bite his tongue to try to limit the "consequences". ” Look at that!” said Fatima and caressed Robs semi-stiff manhood. “Someone’s babymaker is waking up!” Fully aware of what was happening, Fatima now began to slowly move her finger inside his ass. She quickly found a point that elicited insanely nice tickles and Rob found it difficult to stand still. ” Do you have a girlfriend, Darling?” "Eh, no" ” Why? Don’t you like ladies?” "Eh, yes I love women, absolutely. I'm 100 percent heterosexual but right now I don't have a relationship. Uh, oaaa.." Fatima caressed his balls and almost weighed it in her hand. Damn it. Now Rob could no longer control himself and his torpedo blossomed to its full length. ” Yes darling. That’s my baby! When was the last time you had pussy darling?” "Eh , but,, .. It was... okey, unfortunately quite a long time ago." ” Well, ... but when was the last time you used your right hand?” "But eh it..... If you absolutely have to know, I'm actually left-handed and did it a couple of days ago." ” Oh, you naughty little boy!! Well darling. Just so you know, it takes a couple of weeks to have your medical certificate ready. I hope that’s okey for you but ... you should know that there are ways to speed up the process.” She caressed Rob's cock as she said it. Rob couldn't help it, but his cock now stood like an iron skewer. "Uh...? What does that mean?" ” Well darling. You just need to be my little baby boy for a while. Me being your new master putting on a diaper on your white little ass......” Fuck! Rob hardly knew where to go. ” Relax darling, I’m just kidding but make sure you meet me at Ocean view restaurant at six o’clock tomorrow night.” Fatima did not expect an answer and ended the investigation of his now not so private areas. Slightly shocked, Rob put on his clothes while Fatima wrote something in her journal. ” See you later my little baby boy!” ”Eh... Yes Mom!” Damn it, Rob immediately regretted answering like that. It just flew out of him. Fatima raised her eyebrows and looked at him a little superiorly. ” Don’t be late darling, otherwise I will force you to bend over on my lap and spank your white little ass.” ” Okey, I get it!” On the way back to the apartment, Rob realized that his heart was pounding and was so excited that he was in a cold sweat. Fatima had made him feel inferior and the strange thing was that he couldn't decide if he liked it or not.

The child was just like any normal 9 year old child, he was in 4th grade in which she loved to read and is very good at long division. He likes school and seeing her friends but likes the weekends at home too where she doesn't usually have homework. His/her favorite color is pastel green. He/she loves watching Netflix and has a secret love for watching tv show for very little children even if they are "baby shows". He/she's currently working on reading an old book his mommy gave her called "harry potter" but still gets caught up on some big words. He/She also has a bit of an entitlement issue with being seen as a big boy since he's only about as big as the first and second graders and only just stopped sucking his thumb at night a few weeks ago. (Our RP starts as the little boy is doing his homework in the living room with train playing on the TV, the door bell rings his mommy answers the door to see the babysitter she had called for the night. This babysitter was different though and has promised to get her little boy to relax and enjoy being a "little" kid more.... I will play the adult characters. If you want play with me you can contact me privately)

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.