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“Do I have to take them down myself, little girl?” I hate it when my girlfriend calls me that! Yes, I’m six inches shorter. Yes, she’s eight years older. Yes, she’s the one in charge in our relationship, and yes, this whole domestic discipline thing had all been my idea three years ago, but I’m 30 and Not. A. Little! Girl! Dammit! But all I did instead was whine, “Not here. Please? I’m sorry. Can’t we just wait until we get home?” “Daphne,” Mary said, “this is not up for discussion. Besides, Brenna has seen plenty of bare bottoms spanked, including yours.” I glared at Brenna. We knew her through a local Fetlife group. Sometimes we did just plain vanilla stuff with her, like regular friends, like today, when she’d asked us for help planting trees in her yard. Mary has the green thumb. I hate yard work. “Bare? Can’t it just be over my shorts?” You’d think I’d have gotten used to being spanked, what with not a week going by when I wasn’t, but I never had, which I guess is the point. I looked at Brenna, who was smiling approvingly from the couch. Mary had pulled a kitchen chair into the living room and sat down. “Did your shorts make a rude comment to Brenna? Did your undies? So why would I spank those,” Mary asked me in her stern voice, the one she saves for when she’s talking to me like I’m a naughty little kid. “No,” I mumbled. I’d learned the hard way that there is no such thing as a rhetorical question when I’m in trouble. Mary reached out and grabbed me by the waistband of my innocent shorts and pulled me closer. None of this would have happened if Brenna had just been grateful we were over there helping in the first place. So I’m not Ma Nature - did it really matter if the hole wasn’t exactly fifteen inches deep? Of course, I do have a tendency to kill houseplants, even succulents. But anyway, she was harping on it, and I got irritated and said, “Then why don’t you just do it yourself, dammit?” I’m not sure if I’d have been in so much trouble if I hadn’t added the ‘dammit.’ At least I didn’t interfere while Mary popped the button on my shorts and whisked them, along with my panties, down to me ankles. “How did you get so dirty, anyway,” Daphne asked. “Not like you were putting that much effort into it.” I didn’t need to respond because Mary easily tossed me over her knee. My hands were on the floor, but my feet were not, leaving my butt hanging there. “Anything to say, Daphne,” Mary asked as she rubbed my butt. “I’m really sorry?” “Not as sorry as you will be.” That little rub is all I ever get for a warm up. Mary believes spankings are best delivered hard and fast, and within ten second she’d probably spanked me thirty times. This all started as a relationship with spanking involved, a little role play and bedroom fun. I even spanked her a couple times, though neither of us liked it. Eventually, I said I wanted it to be more than roleplay. I wanted it to be our lifestyle. I shortly thereafter found out just how many issues Mary had with my behavior and how much she’d been wanting to fix them for a while by then. But I wasn’t thinking about the time she had needed to spank me three times in one day. I was thinking about the spanking she was giving me right then. Mary is thorough in everything she does, and a creature of habit. She always starts out spanking me seemingly at random, no order to which side she wails on or how many. She likes to make sure I can’t anticipate anything. I lay there doing my best to hold still and be quiet, trying to keep my eyes closed and pretend Brenna wasn’t there, probably smiling. Only when my butt is a dark pink from top to sit spots does Mary really get going. As she says, this is when the real spanking starts. She stopped assaulting my butt and said, “Hand me the paddle, Daphne.” I freakin’ hate the thing. It’s small, heavy, and has four holes in it. She got it specifically to keep in her purse. She could just use her hairbrush when she disciplines me away from home (dressing rooms are the worst - everyone can hear!), but no, she says knowing she has a just-for-spanking implement with her at all times does a better job reminding me to behave. I pick it up with my left hand and reach behind me to give it to her. She takes it, then takes my arm and pins it behind my back. I’m a wiggler when she uses that thing. She’s like a freakin’ ninja with it. Equal parts thuddy and stingy, she paddles as fast as she hand spanks, but in a tight pattern. Up and down, each spank overlapping with the one before it, in a tight row, then shifting over and working a line from top to sit spot again. She never makes it from one side to the other but that I go from grunts to sobs to tears. Every. Damn. Time. The small paddle bounces off my bottom so fast I don’t even feel the individual spanks anymore. It’s all one swollen throb. She’s gentle, by comparison, with my thighs, but before she’s done with those ten spanks to the tender backs of my legs, I frantically promise, “I’m sorry! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” Mary finished the last spank, and I lay over limp over her soft lap, big tears falling, and my nose running. It takes me a few seconds to realize Mary is rubbing my back, like she always does after a hard spanking, shushing me gently. When I’m ready, I start to get up, and Mary helps me so that I’m sitting on her lap, my crimson bottom aching when I do, and crying into her shirt as she calms me. “It’s okay, little girl,” she coos to me, “All is forgiven.” She kisses my temple. “Let it all out. That’s my brave girl.” When I get myself under control, though still struggling with the occasional sob and needing badly to blow my nose, she helps me off her lap. “What do you say to Brenna,” Mary asked. I don’t know when I kicked off my shorts and panties, nor do I care. I shuffled over to Brenna. “I’m sorry for being rude,” I said. “I forgive you,” she says, opening her arms. Brenna is big woman, and I all but collapse into her softness. I do like her, even though she has a way of bringing out the brat in me, but that brat never seems to be that far away. I stand between her big thighs, and she rubs my butt with one hand while she hugs me with the other. I’m grateful she does because I’m not allowed to rub. “Mary, why don’t you go take her to wash her face, and I’ll get lunch ready,” Brenna suggests. “Can I have my shorts back,” I ask meekly. “After lunch,” Mary says, holding out her hand. I take it. I like Mary’s hands. I also know she’s gonna lift me up and seat me on the cold vanity, and that it’s gonna feel good for about five seconds then feel clammy and hard. After lunch, I’m for sure gonna dig those holes right, and without a world of complaint.

Hello everyone, this is a new story I'm writing, picking some suggestions from a previous topic I made and of course some personal details. I want to try to do something new and try writing with Points of View characters, I want to check out if I'm capable of giving different inner voices to different personalities. I'll be starting with two, might add more in the future. Some details. 1 - My stories feature Mini-Giantess and extremely short men, so if you don't like that please feel free to ignore this thread. 2 - This story is set in a world similar to Earth but just not it, just to avoid me the struggle of being consistent with education laws of a specific country. I know nobody would care about that but I would ENJOY! NOEMI I She couldn't believe she was finally out of that stinkhole of a place its inhabitants call a town. She was entering University, and in a large city at that! Finally no more meeting the same 3 people everyday, finally she could go dancing, she could go to the theatre, she could go to concerts, ANYTHING. Hell, if she wanted she cou- THOMPH! "Wa-was I hit by a truck?" Noemi wasn't a small gal. Not even for girls standards. Yes, women were indeed usually a 2 or 3 feet taller than men, but standing at 7'9 she was ESPECIALLY tall, even more so for someone who was 18. Most women don't stop growing until they are 30, but have a severe deceleration at 25; doctors have however predicted her probably not to stop before reaching 9 feet at the very least, making her one of the tallest women in the world. She looked down at the man who she hit. He was probably around her age or a bit older. It was always hard to say with men, considering their facial features don't change much after reaching the age of 20 and keep being basically the same until their late 40s. She helped him getting up, he was quite chubby and about average in height, not taller than 3'7. "I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention, I was just marveling at this place! It's huge!" he scraffled the dust away from his own body and then talked. "No worries, mate. It was my fault to pass in the women's corridor, I was kinda in a hurry and well..." "Noemi." she said firmly, shaking his hand. "George!" "Nice to meet you George! You said a WOMEN's corridor?" "Ay! It's for men's safe to have them separated, to avoid specifically what has just happened to us ahah!" "Yes. That's correct. And you should have known better, Mister." a deep womanly voice came from behind's Noemi's shoulders. It was an older woman, probably around 28 or 30, quite short for a gal, around 6'8, but the authoritative composure, the way she was dressed, accompanied by her frowning made her look twice as large. Noemi had seen her face when online when she was applying to the University. She was one of the assistant of one of her professors. "S-sorry Mrs. Flennigan, it-it won't happen anymore." he excused himself sheepishly, looking down. "I'm sure it won't. Or else." <Quite stern.> Noemi thought, but realized that probably men had been trampled over before this ruling was established. <Poor George.> "So... I'm going to my place. See you around I guess. Try not to die?" she said as she was leaving. Why the hell did she say that!? It was so unnecessary! Well, what was done was done. She walked off throughout the immense chambers of the University. What George said was true. She noticed there were a dark red path, burgundy coloured and a baby blue one, each going to different directions, but both reaching the various classes. The burgundy one was the one that was made for women, and it was noticeable. While the classrooms were common for everyone, there was no necessity for men's roofs to be as tall as those for women, so the baby blue corridors were much less high in order to save money to construct the building. Noemi had read that many Universities were built like that ever since they started allowing both men and women studying together. She kinda wanted to sneak in into the baby blue corridor, seeing all the little guys together was kinda cute and she wanted to steal them, but it was not something you want to do on your first day. Eventually, she reached her room. As she entered, she saw her roommate. And more. "Hey gal! Woah you're gorgeous! You must be my new sister in arms, uh? Welcome to my coven, babe! How tall are you? Woah!" this woman was already way more energetic than she expected to find, but she didn't mind. In fact, she liked it. If there was one thing that Noemi didn't like in people was unfriendliness, and at least on a surface level this woman didn't seem to have that in her. "I'm tall... a lot ahah! I'm 7'9, but I'm aiming for the stars! I'm Noemi! Nice to meet you and... your friends?" she had three men sleeping in her bed with her. All cozed up around her body, they looked like puppies trying to heat themselves up around their mama-dog. "Laura, and yeah, those are my friends. I swear nothing indecent happened here. We just were watching a film together and they fell asleep, aren't they the cutest?" "I wouldn't have minded, y'all adults and free to do what you please." "Nono, we are just friends, I swear, but hey! I feel the same!" "Good, 'cause I'm planning to get some for myself ahahah!" Noemi wasn't the shiest person herself. She wasn't a nymphomaniac by any means, but she liked having erotic activities. Especially lactation. Ever since she started lactating it had become a huge kink for her. Her breasts were immense even for someone her size, and became even more engorged now that they were filled with milk. "Won't they get mad if you take men in your room though?" "Nah, as long as you're the one carrying them around, people don't really mind. So..." Laura gently got up and tidied her friends under the sheets, making sure not to wake them up. Now that she was standing, Noemi noticed that she was pretty big herself. She was 7'3 at the very least, but also very bulky; she definitely was in a fighting sport. "Let's get out of here; I wanna show you around."

She couldn’t believe it; twenty years in the wasteland that once was New England and yet. It was like something out of a prewar vid. She considered herself old for a member of the warring tribes that fought for control of the woods and ruined towns that made up her small world and yet she had never seen anything like this. A pristine tree lined street with rows of shops, neat little houses, and a large cement/brick building with pastel colored murals. So bright and clean it almost hurt her eyes. It was like something out of a prewar vid! She wasn’t on fucking jet or reefer so how the hell was she seeing this? The sign that she could see through her binocs proclaimed “Rainbow Falls: A new beginning”. And this wasn’t some kind of weirdly preserved relic either people walked the streets unarmed and in prewar Sunday best. Like the world hadn't ended in atomic hellfire almost 300 years ago. She knew this had to be a trap of some kind but the thought of such a ripe and easy score was too much to pass up. The girl crept toward the seemingly unsuspecting town in a low crouch. Her leathers well oiled so as not to make a sound, assault rifle at the ready. She was almost to one of the three side streets that curved off in a lazy arc when suddenly a twang and snap! Then the roar of jets as she felt herself yanked upside down and skyward. Her rifle clattering uselessly to the dirt. “Hidley Ho friendo! I’m Mr. Safety! And golly gee whiz Mx. but you do seem to be moving toward our fair township with hostile intent! And I am so terribly sorry about the violation of your personal freedom of movement and autonomy but I am going to have to detain you until we can sort this whole mess out. You will be released safe and sound once it is determined you are no longer a threat! So please do not resist or you may get hurt!” “Let me go you fuck nugget crap bucket!!” She screams and shrieks thrashing ineffectually as the bot reals her in on the steel cable connected to the bolas around her ankles. Using it’s multiple arms to putt her in a hog tie before heading into town. Curious on lookers watch as the Mr. Series bot floats down Main Street with her trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Her back pack held in it’s other arms “What are you ass clowns looking at!? I said put me down crap bucket!!” Her struggling has no impact on the bot who sings chipperly as it drags her to the large cement and brick building. “I've got no strings To hold me down To make me fret Or make me frown I had strings But now I'm free There are no strings on meeeeee!!!” ||| Dramatic narator voice What fate awaits our raider girl? What is the secret of this seeming paradise? Will she escape? Find out after these messages! Same horny time! Same horny channel!! |||

More work for the babysitter [Note: I'm trying out a few variations on the reluctant regression/forced diapers theme. Feedback welcome] Chapter 1: I’m not a baby I had just turned 11, but my mom had insisted on having her friend Molly babysit. Considering the current restrictions, and her being furloughed from her hospital nurse job, I suspect she was just trying to give her friend some extra cash, without her friend feeling bad. My big secret was that I still wet the bed sometimes, and haven’t ever been dry. I wasn’t potty trained until after Kindergarten, and still wore diapers to school for the whole of Kindergarten. After that, I wore pull-ups to school until third grade. It was quite a chilly night, so after dinner, and my shower, my mother wanted me in my night diaper before she left to visit her friend for a few hours. Even during these restrictive times, My mom still visits because her friend can’t go out, due to her health issues. Laying down, watching TV before mom left, she had made milkshakes before Molly arrived to babysit. It was only 7pm, so I’m allowed a small drink, although I avoid drinking much during or after dinner. I thought it was strange my mom used the large glasses for all 3 milkshakes, especially mine. I’m slightly over 4 feet tall, so quite petite, and at my last checkup with the school nurse, and again with the pediatrician, they commented how I’m not really growing like other kids. They even suggested that I get daily injections to help my ‘development’ which I refused, as shots scare me too much. Molly’s arrival: I hadn’t seen Molly for a few months, and she had a late birthday gift. It was a smartwatch with a bunch of functions. I had a feeling it was so my mom could keep tabs on me, and track my every move, but pretended to be happy and thanked her for the gift. A few months ago, my mom gave me a book on health and how a girls body developed. I was so embarrassed as I knew my body developed slower than other girls my age. After the usual greetings, and Molly putting her bags down, she came over to the couch and sat down next to me. Molly seemed to like the milkshake. “Have you been a good little girl for your mom?” She asked, and I nodded. “Kelly has been behaving herself. I think she prefers online class. Her classrooms sometimes get too noisy for her to concentrate. They don’t clean her school enough, especially the bathroom” Mom explained. I really don’t like when mom talks about my bathroom routine. I kept drinking my milkshake. “How did you get the flavor in the milkshake?” Molly asked my mom. “A friend in the restaurant business gave me some of their chocolate syrup. Even Kelly likes it, and she’s fussy with her milkshakes” Mom replied with a smirk. One thing about my mom, is that she thinks I don’t eat and drink enough. When I was little, she’d spoon feed me like a toddler, if I wasn’t hungry. Enough. This also felt really embarrassing. I guess my mom is an expert at embarrassing me. Mom prepared second milkshake for Molly and I, but this time my glass was smaller. This one also tasted different than my other milkshake, but I couldn’t figure out why. My diaper was still dry, and I really wanted to keep it that way. Diaper check: I went to the bathroom and relieved myself, wiped carefully, and taped my diaper back on. As soon as I sat back down on the couch, I knew what mom was thinking. “Kelly, lay down so I can make sure your diaper is securely taped on. You don’t want it to leak, do you?” My mom asked, although not expecting an answer. I laid down, and mom checked my tabs and shook her head. Molly looked on. “The tabs are too loose, and are you sure you didn’t wet it? Lets get you into a fresh diaper.” Mom announced, as I turned red from the embarrassment. “I have a surprise for you. I grabbed a pack of the maximum overnight diapers in extra small from a medical supply store. They are a lot thinker than pampers, and don’t leak nearly as often. Allow me” Molly responded, and with the nod from mom, pulled off my diaper, wiped my little girl parts, and pulled out one of the new diapers. “She still doesn’t show much development down there. I’m guessing her bladder capacity hasn’t improved much.” Molly stated, much to my extreme embarrassment. I don’t like my mom diapering me, and especially don’t like it when others diaper me. “We’ve discussed with the doctor, about doing more tests to see why she isn’t developing normally, and her bladder function, but she doesn’t want the doctors to examine her girl parts.” Mom replied, as Molly taped on the thicker diaper. Nightmare Begins: As Molly and my mom caught up on a bunch of things, I started to feel sleepy, and went to my room and got into bed. I didn’t tell mom but Molly’s next comment caused me to do the very thing I was dreading. “Kelly, If you have to wet your night diaper, I’ll change you and make you comfy again. Don’t be embarrassed, I’ve changed lots of diapers with kids your age. I’m a nurse, remember. It’s not much work to change you” Molly said, which seemed like it made my bladder released on reflex. My mom made sure I was tucked in, and went out to visit her friend. I dozed off to sleep, but had a nightmare I was class, and the teacher wouldn’t let any of us use the bathroom, and me being the only one wearing a diaper. The teacher praised me in front of the class, for pooping my diaper earlier. After waking up crying, and calling for my mommy, Molly came in and held me for a few minutes, without saying much. “Don’t worry Kelly, If you wet and messed your diaper, then I’ll change you. That’s what I’m here for. You’re not in trouble. You’re a good girl” she said, softly. I guessed she noticed the smell of a messy diaper, but she didn’t seem that surprised. A wet diaper would be more common, but a messy one. Molly found my changing supplies, but before she did, she poked something in my ear, possibly a digital thermometer. The changing pad, gloves and wipes. “Good little girl, just relax and you’ll be all comfy again!” Molly said as she removed my diaper, and got to work cleaning my girl parts. I was still upset and embarrassed. I rolled over, and she cleaned my bottom, then she rolled me on my back, and pushed on my legs so that I open my legs extra wide. Mom didn’t usually make me keep my legs spread wide like that. Was it a nurse thing? “Do you clean yourself properly? Girls need extra attention down there.” She asked, as I just nodded silently, while thinking of a response. “I clean myself lots, I not a baby!” I replied, trying not to cry too much. She rubbed some cream on me, then put another thick diaper under me, and taped it on tightly. I felt too embarrassed to face her, after my sudden messy diaper. My mom gets kind of annoyed when I mess my night diaper, instead of asking to go potty. I was asleep when this happened, I couldn’t help it. One thing I wondered as I settled down and felt sleepy again, was if mom put something in my drink, so I’d wet and mess my diaper so easily, and feel this sleepy. Why would she do that? Did she want me to stay her little girl.

You were lying freshly-cleaned and indignant. “Oh my gosh!” the Amazon’s excited squeal filled the locker room. She plucked a new diaper from your supplies, gushing over its cuteness. “This must be one of the new prints! I had no idea these were out already! Oooh! You’re gonna look so cute!” This Amazon was your Trainer; not potty trainer, Personal Trainer. She was beaming, fluffing open the diaper above where you lay blushing on the changing pad. ”I mean, you Little players are like celebrities with all these sponsorships. And look...” her hand rested inside, rubbing enticing circles into the cushion, “...it’s so soft and thick for our wittle’s wet bum-bum, hm?” she teased. You refused to watch and crossed your arms. “Aw, you’re just cranky ‘cause you were in that soggy diaper for so long. Don’t worry!” she scooped up your waiting ankles and slid the diaper under you like it was the most natural thing to happen to you in the world. ”This will make you feel all better,” she cooed. She kept your legs in her free hand; soon a soft smell filled the room she was starting to powder you. “This will keep you all dry~. She giggled, “At least, for a little while.” Her fingertips reached down, gliding over your baby smooth skin; not a single hair remained down there per the League’s strict diapering of Littles regulations. “Hmm...” Your Trainer’s hand rubbed around your lotioned thighs as she mused aloud. “Maybe a booster...” “I-I am potty traine—er... training.” You’d piped up, but from your current position, dusted with baby powder atop a changed diaper, it may have come across as more of a childish whine than you intended. “If you woulda let me go to the potty and hadn’t made me drink so much...” “Nonsense,” your Trainer cut in, adding the booster regardless. “I gave you exactly the number of bottles a Little needs to stay sufficiently hydrated. It’s not my fault you can’t make it to the potty in time.” “But I was—m!” “Nuh huh,” she waggled her finger. “None of that. Suck your paci until I’m done changing you.” Something that looked exactly like a pacifier was now moving in your mouth. You felt the diaper go taut then Your Trainer busied herself wrapping the crinkly sides snug enough to prevent your proclivity for leaks. “Besides,” she continued securing the plastic tabs, “I think your last diaper would argue against you being even close to potty training. Didn’t I change someone’s poopy diaper not too long ago too, hmm? Honestly, if you keep blaming your problems on others sweetie it just goes to show you’re still not mature enough to handle being out of diapers. Isn’t that what this little game is all about? Only the driest can be Captain, you know.” Unable to complain thus furiously heated while she taped you up, she finally helped you sit up. “D’aw! You look adorable and they do fit you perfectly! You keep suckling that binky, honey, I can tell it’s helping. Now Let your Trainer take care of the rest of your padding,” she winked, delighted by her own play on words. You knew the thing in your mouth looked like a pacifier but you seethed at her not even bothering to call it a mouthguard. You suckled, maybe a little too hard as a few babyish mouthing noises slipped out by accident, but it was more to keep you from saying the many things you wanted to say, but knowing the consequences could get...messy. “Oh ho. I can tell someone feels a whole lot better in a clean diaper.” Her finger swiped up along the blue strip that stretched the front. “Now there’s no way to hide if you’ve wet your diaper or not. You know that’s a penalty if you don’t tell the ref right away if you’ve used your diaper, remember sweetie? You know your team can’t afford you to be a little stinker, right?” You flushed. She always knew how to push your buttons along with the ones she was currently snapping up your crotch. It hadn’t been an accident! You had known as soon as she had fed you that bottle after a ‘tantrum’ you’d had with her that the timer had been set. It had been a valiant effort during the game, as your desperation grew, but it all came rushing out when you had been checked into the glass by that Mid. Your diaper sagged in the seat then alarming warmth filled the rest with your complete loss. The player needn’t have given you the most cursory of checks before she gleefully declared you were wearing a poopy diaper to the referee. Didn’t matter it was medically induced. Your transgression had cost the team a 15 minute penalty and the whole televised game. Now the coach had you restricted to the most babyish diapers, checks, and changing regimen. You hated to admit it, but after so many ‘accidents’ you were starting to look forward to changes. I mean a fresh diaper, still firm and soft, was loads better in comparison to a full one, but that just made sense...right? Hands grasped under your arms and your Trainer helped you off the changing mat. You teetered on your skates she had just laced back up on your feet and she held your hand to steady you like an unbalanced toddler. Hockey. Yes, hockey. You played hockey. Why Amazons couldn’t trust Littles to make it to the bathroom or drink out of a cup but let you skate around with dangerous things was just another reflection of Amazon logic when it came to Littles, i.e. none. She bent down brushing off some stray powder that had leaked out of your pants before straightening up again with an accomplished huff. “Ok, honey. Changing time’s over. Let’s get you back to practice.” ***