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ABRI Interludes are short one-shot stories involving characters from my main work "Adult Baby Research Institute". Unlike the main work these stories are much lighter in tone, short, slice-of-life style pieces, with lower stakes, slower pace, and softer situations. They focus on characters from the main work, but are intended to stand alone and be accessible to a wider audience. If you like this story, be aware that Adult Baby Research Institute is an ABDL / BDSM / Medfet story that is turned up to 11 and may not be your cup of tea. But it might. Interlude One - Xander Learns a Lesson Dan frowned. He barely got any sleep last night and this was not how he wanted to start his morning. He was knelt over a tub, trying to get an adult baby boy cleaned and ready for his day, but his charge was being a real pain in the ass. He was "bratting out" hard. Dans knees hurt, his ass hurt from the weekend and he needed a cup of coffee. This was not what he signed up for, nor his charge. Another splash of water from the tub hit him in the face. He could see Xander looking back at him with a mischievous shit eating grin. "THAT'S..." Dan started to raise his voice, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. "That's enough Xander. I think maybe it's time I took over." Christine said with a smile, helping Dan up to standing. "I..." Dan started to stammer. "I know, you're really off balance and it's hard to focus. That happens on everyone's first weekend at the institute. I've watched you try to feed this little one earlier and he has been nothing but trouble. We look out for each other here. Why don't you leave little Xander to me and you go downstairs to the cafe to get a cup of coffee. There is a new cute little barista there, and he is dressed in the cutest, pinkest little maid outfit. He would love to serve you." "Really? It's no problem?" "None at all, I've read Xander's profile. 'No spanking, no impact play, no nipple torture, nothing hurty'. That's okay, I think maybe Xander learns how we handle brats at the Institute". "Wait a minute..." Xander started. Christine saw Dan waver a little. Dan didn't want anyone to inflict anything on his little one! "You remember training right? Some little ones really do need the boundaries and discipline. They brat and act out because they are afraid of admitting that's what they really want. That's part of our job—my job—is to give them the safe space to explore that. Your job Dan, is to go relax, and let that little cat-boi serve you coffee. Maybe write in your journal about your experience last weekend so you can properly process it. I need you on your A-game, so that you can put little Xander here back together when I'm done breaking him to pieces." Xander, sitting in the tub turned white at the "breaking him to pieces" metaphor. At least, he hoped it was a metaphor. "You're right, thanks Christine. Okay Xander, I'll be back in a little while." "But wait a second, you can't do that!" Xander whined. "Can and will." Christine said "'Only punishment when strictly necessary' was the box you checked on your intake form. And I think this counts as necessary. You've been bratting out hard since you woke up this morning. I think it's only fair to Dan, and to you, that you get to experience the punishment and boundaries you clearly desire." Xander sat in the tub. It was true. He was bratting out hard. He wasn't really sure why even. He remembered ticking off the "I'll be a perfectly behaved baby" box in his intake form. But there was something about watching that one baby boy get chastised and spanked with a ruler that made him feel really funny. He hated watching it, but he was deeply fascinated at the same time. It was impossible to identify that feeling he had inside. Dan leaned over and kissed Xander on the forehead. "I won't be long. You be a good little boy for Christine." "He'll be the sweetest little thing when you return!" Dan walked away, and Xander turned so white he was pale. Christine just chuckled. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, sent a text, and turned her attention back to Xander. "We're going to learn a lot of things together little guy." She coo'ed while pulling him out of the big tub and leading him over to a small chair in the corner. "Sit." The command was fierce coming out of Christines mouth. Xander had never played hard before. He didn't know what to expect, and the fear of the unknown loomed over him. Even worse, he had a raging hard-on despite being freezing cold and dripping bath water everywhere. Not wanting to temp fate, he sat down. "Now we have a special protocol for little ones like you who says they don't want punishment, but very clearly do. I'm going to describe your punishment for you. Then you have to decide if are you going to take it, or are you going to back out. If you back out, you and I will walk over to the towels, and I'll watch you dry off and we'll go down to the locker together, get you in your big boy clothes. Dan will come give you a hug, there'll be no hard feelings, and you can fill out a new application if you decide to come back. Though you might want to do some reflecting on your behaviour." Xander frowned. He definitely didn't want that. "The other option is that you are going stand up, bend over and touch your toes and I'm going to give you a light spanking. Just enough so you can feel it, but more importantly, everyone in the room will hear it. Then I'm going to put a little plug up your bum because I don't want you to make a mess of your chair. Finally, I am going to put a gag in your mouth to make sure it stays nice and open for the bar of soap that you'll have between your lips. You'll stay like that, shivering cold with your nose in the corner until Dan comes back." Xander blanched. This was scary! "Then at detention tonight,we'll spend a little bit more time. You'll start by writing an apology letter to Dan for your behaviour, and write in your journal about how you felt about the experience you're just about to have. What happens after that is up to you and me." Xander felt his world shrink. He didn't want that! Did he? Didn't he? He wasn't sure about the pain, but Christine said it would be light. And the plug would be little. It did also sound ... really intriguing. And Scary. It sounded really scary. "When Dan comes back after your punishment little one, he will want nothing more than to rescue and dote on you. Believe me." Xander felt his body betray him again. His cock grew harder still. He looked inside his heart and he knew he wanted this. Even the spanking, no matter how scary it was. More importantly he loved the idea of being punished, and then being taken care of afterwards. "Do you want to go home? Xander shook his head. He definitely didn't want that. "So, would you like to take your punishment like a big boy?" Xander paused. Slowly he nodded. "Uh huh." "Are you ready for a spanking as well? I'll go easy this time little one." Xander thought about and and nodded. "I see we're going to learn a lot together Xander." Christine said, gripping his chin, and giving him a devilish smile. "Now, stand up and touch your toes."

Elizabeth's Behavioral Modifications (Rewrite) Edited and Updated 11-18 Chapters 1-4 https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/326758372-elizabeths-behavioral-modification Plea For Help Greetings, I am Dr. Anna Christenson; I want to introduce myself and my finding on you to the Board and my Peers regarding the revolutionary behavioral modification program my team, and I have developed for unruly Individuals who tend to misbehave. We begin with our most recent case study. The patient was presented to us by her so loving husband, who contacted us on her behalf regarding her poor behavior. He described her behavior as an out-of-control teenager with the mouth of a sailor. I explained to Ryan that our behavioral Program is considered experimental at best as we are still collecting long-term data, and we couldn't charge him for services. Ryan understood these conditions and asked if we could set an appointment to discuss this further. I was initially hesitant, but something in his voice sounded desperate. I agreed and got his contact information for our intake coordinator to contact him with the pre-physiological questionnaire. Good Morning; I see everyone has gotten their coffee and treats. Let's discuss our caseloads and possibly new candidates. Let's start with a quick update on patients; Alisson's responded after looking at her notes. Adma is doing great with his continued hormone the virtual environment therapy sessions; Greg and Sarah have been transitioned to the daycare program while their caregiver is at work with private one-on-one sessions with you, Dr. Christenson. Melissa, how are you coming along with the maintenance dosages for behavior control? Making excellent progress, Dr. Christenson. I'll have a new formula ready for clinical trials by next week, which should prove more robust and resilient. Ok, on to new business. In your folders, I present you with a 26-year-old female who shows signs of verbal abuse towards others while acting immaturely. Her husband has hired four life coaches to date. The first three quit, and the other was put into the hospital. The patient threw a vase at her. Her husband also says she has a mouth of a sailor. Please Let me hear your opinions. Can we help this young lady learn to act appropriately? Dr. Greg smirks; it sounds like she needs a good spanking and a bar of soap in her mouth for that kind of language; nurse Heart says, we all know you'd enjoy that way too much, Doctor, but I think she will be a good fit for phase three trials. After a few more comments, everyone agreed they had their next candidate, willing or unwilling. Alison, will you contact Ryan and set up an appointment for the first available in my calendar? Yes, Doctor. I'll make the call and get everything in motion for her. Good Moring, is this Ryan? Dr. Christenson asked to call you to make arrangements for you and Elizabeth to come into our office for an intake appointment this coming Monday at 7 am if that could work for you. Please, pack Elizabeth a bag of clothes for her trip home. We'll have you done here in about 2 hours. We are sorry to admit that you must wait about an hour Before meeting the Doctor. This is entirely for Elizabeth's benefit, though. Ryan and Elizabeth arrived at the clinic with the ruse of them participating in marriage counseling. Ryan and Elizabeth buzzed into the waiting room, where the receptionist had already set out some breakfast pastries and drinks. Elizabeth jumped at the opportunity for free food and proceeded to have several cups of expensive coffee and pastries. Ryan just sipped a cup of coffee while reading an article on his phone. Elizabeth whined to Ryan that she forgot to charge her phone and was about to die and he should let her use his work phone to play games on. After an hour of waiting, Elizabeth was bored, and her whining turned into insults and profanity about Ryan being inconsiderate for not letting her have a new phone. Elizabeth demanded that the receptionist get off her lazy ass and get the Shrink so they could get this over with. The receptionist typed into her computer, "The Patient is ready. "Exactly 5 minutes later, Heart walks into the waiting area and Says," Good Morning; you must be Elizabeth and Ryan; please follow me to the therapy room. Nurse heart pulls out her access card and passes it in front of the card reader, unlocking the door to a hallway; as she escorts the couple down the hallway to a beautifully decorated office; The Doctor will be with you in a moment. I'll be back a bit when it's time for her physical exam. A moment later, A knock on the door; opens with a tall, slender woman entering who is wearing a lab coat. Good Morning you must be Ryan. It's a pleasure to meet you in person finally. I'm Dr. Anna Christensen, Head Psychologist, and you must be Elizabeth Ryan has told me so much about you and how much he loves and cares for you. Now Elizabeth and Ryan, what brings you into couples therapy? Elizabeth goes first, proclaiming her worthless husband will not provide for her and is neglecting her needs, thinking he should do more to help out at home once he gets home from work. After Elizabeth finished berating Ryan, I messaged The Nurse to come to get Elizabeth for her Physical so that Ryan and I could speak privately. A moment later, a knock on my door Nurse Heart entered the room with a clipboard telling Elizabeth it was her turn to take her vitals. After Elizabeth leaves the room, I ask Ryan what the real story is; Ryan begins with I am sorry for my wife's horrid behavior. As you can see, she has no respect for anyone and believes the world revolves around her. Elizabeth refused to work at home or find a paying job out in the town; as I told you on the phone, Elizabeth injured the last life coach I hired. She feels work is beneath her, so I am forced to come home, cook dinner, and do the housework before I get any free time. It is like living with a helpless child; I have to tell her to shower half the time because she smells horrible and is still wearing the same clothes from 3 days ago. I'm sorry, Doctor, for ranting like this, but I am desperate. Can you help us? I am so sorry, Ryan, that you have endured this, and why haven't you left Elizabeth? You have only been married for five short years. Ryan responds, stating he still deeply loves his wife and believes she can do better with some counseling. Ryan, this Program is an intensive program. We start with a five days inpatient program that will use medication and hypnosis to curve the destructive behaviors. At first, there might not be many new changes, but gradually over time, she will change and have those more desirable and appropriate behaviors. Now I do have to warn you that we have had some behavioral regression in this Program. The reversal does have the advantage that the patients are more docile and cooperative, and there have been cases of even infantile behaviors. Rayan Infantile behaviors! Like what? Well, Ryan, in all our cases, all the patients have regressed to the state of a small child. This state can last for as little as a few weeks while we work through her childhood traumas, so please don't be surprised if she has a few accidents. You did say you were taking care of a bratty child. How about a polite child? Ryan sat there listening to every detail, almost unsure how to respond. A moment later, Ryan calmly says, ok, but just one question, will I be washing her bedding more than the 2 or 3 times a week she is peeing in her bed? No, Ryan, we'll send her home with some appropriate nighttime attire for that issue. Ok, Ryan says what do I need to do to make this all happen? Nothing at all, Dr. Christensen says it began. My nurse or I will call to keep you updated on her progress this week, and you will take her home Friday on your way home from work. The Exam Meanwhile, Nurse Heart was getting Elizabeth's height and weight back in the clinic. While Elizabeth was taking her blood pressure, she began nervously shifting in her seat, asking the Nurse to hurry up because she needed to use the bathroom. Nurse Heart told her she would be done sooner if she could sit still to get an accurate reading. Elizabeth was dam near dancing in her seat when the Nurse took her blood pressure cuff off and then proceeded to have her put the thermometer in her mouth. Elizabeth was almost begging to be finished because she had to pee so badly. All done, the Nurse proclaimed. Elizabeth ran down the hall, trying to remember the direction that had come to find her way back to the bathroom. The nurse Heart followed, telling her they needed a urine sample. Still, it was too late as Elizabeth rounded the corner finding the bathroom just as she began losing control busting into the bathroom, ripped off her tight jeans, jerked her panties down in one motion, and sat on the toilet. While sitting in the bathroom, Elizabeth surveys her wet clothes to see how wet they are and convinces herself they'll be okay till she gets home in an hour. A moment later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Nurse Heart asked Elizabeth are you alright? Is there anything you need? A few moments later, Elizabeth emerges from the bathroom and greets by the waiting Nurse Heart; Elizabeth, all done? May we finish with our tests before returning you to your husband? Elizabeth nods and" says yes, Nurse." Now let's get you down to the exam room so one of our fine resident doctors can do a quick physical on you to make sure you qualify for this Program. Elizabeth questions the Nurse what about Ryan? Oh, don't worry, Honey; Nurse Megan is taking excellent care of Ryan as he is having the same test down and some blood tests to check his testosterone levels, just in case. Hello, you must be Elizabeth; I'm Dr. Miller. I am here to give you a quick physical. Please take a seat at the exam table. The Doctor quickly checks her heart, asking her all the routine questions, asking when her last period was and if she has had recent issues with her bladder. Elizabeth answered that she had just finished her period and had no bladder issues since she was a teen. Dr. Milles asked her if he could do a quick OB exam. Elizabeth, now panicking, asked the Doctor if this was necessary. It's just marriage counseling. Dr miller responded yes; it is essential because there might be the need for medication to help her feel happier if the Dr orders it. We want to make sure there will be no unforeseen issues. Reluctantly Elizabeth lies back on the exam table, allowing the Doctor to remove her black sweatpants, revealing her white-soaked panties. Excuse me, Nurse, can you make a notation in her chart that our little patient has had an incontinence episode so that Dr. Christensen is aware of her minor issues? Elizabeth, did you have an accident? You just told me you don't have any bladder control issues. Did you lie to me? Trying to avoid making eye contact, Elizabeth said, "no, Dr, I'm a big girl only children pee their pants." You are correct, Elizabeth. Only children who can't control themselves wet their panties, the Doctor responds condescendingly. Nurse, can you get her some dry clothes and appropriate panties for her to wear, please? Yes, Dr, please excuse me. I'll be right back, Elizabeth; one last question has you got this year's flu shot? Elizabeth Answers no, Doctor, I have been too busy to make the time. Okay, thank you, Elizabeth. Would it be okay if I gave you your flu shot? You aren't scared of needles, are you? No, I'm not afraid I'm a big girl, and yes, you can give me whatever shots I need so that we get this dam appointment over soon. Okay, I understand, but language like that is inappropriate and will not be tolerated here, especially with Dr. Christensen. He disapproves of little girls using foul language like this. OH, I'm glad you're back, Nurse. I explained to our little patient that her potty mouth was not appreciated and not allowed in our offices. A moment later, Nurse Hearth returns with what appears to be a pair of sweatpants and a clean pair of panties for Elizabeth to wear, handing them to Dr. Miller while she walks over to the tall glass cabinet and retrieves three vials. Elizabeth is already lying on the exam table, and she instructed her to lift her legs up and then lift her butt so Dr. Miller can slide her pants on so they can see Ryan. Elizabeth hardly noticed as she was paying close attention to the Nurse's Heart, filling three syringes with clear liquids. Dr. Miller announces there all done. Elizabeth's attention snaps back to Dr mill just as he fishes, pulling up the sweatpants and what feels like some very bulky granny panties, not her bikini-cut panties. Elizabeth is confused as she begins to reach down her pant to feel her underwear just as the Nurse comes over to the exam table with the syringes in hand. Okay, Elizabeth, I have three-shot for you as Dr. Miller has requested, and you also agreed to know with these three shots, some of our patients might get a little sleepy, but it's okay and will pass quickly. Okay, here is the flu shot, your B12 shot, and lastly, some Ativan to help you calm down and help you act your appropriate age. Elizabeth begins to tense up as the user gives her shots, thinking how much she hates needles. As Elizabeth becomes very relaxed and begins nodding off, Nurse Heart steps out of the exam room and promptly returns with a wheelchair. The Nurse and the Doctor transfer her to the waiting wheelchair securing her with a butterfly harness. The Nurse comments to the Doctor, "I hope she can stay dry till Doctor Christensen is all ready for her" Therapy Hello, Doctor Miller. Is our little patient ready for her therapy session? Yes, Doctor, she is already wearing a pair of training pants because she already peed all over our guest bathroom earlier. Nurse Heart, can you please assist Doctor Miller with setting up treatment room 3 and go ahead and top off the diaper cart with some extra supplies for our little patient? Doctor Miller started her IV, so she is well hydrated. Nurse Heart, can you get her wired to EEG, EKG, and bladder pressure sensor? Nurse Heart, you perform a "DRE" Digital Rectal Exam on her, please? Doctor, It feels like she is slightly impacted. Would up like me to insert a suppository or give a micro enema now or wait, Dr. Christensen? No, we can work on that in our therapy session today. Okay, Doctor Karen, send her in! Start the dosing of Lysergic acid diethylamide -25 very light we want her to be open to new suggestions from the hypnosis script and let the drip go for 30 or 40 mins for that to take full effect. Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Honey, can you hear me? Yes. And do you know where you're at today? Yes, and where is that? At School. What are you doing at school today? Swinging. Are your panties still dry? Yes, teacher. Thank you, Elizabeth. Nurse Heart, can you note on her chart that she regresses to about a 5-year-old level with our initial induction? Okay, let's begin again, a little light up and the IVs. We want her to be more aware and responsive. Elizabeth, can you hear me? It's your teacher Mrs. Christensen. Yes, teacher, Elizabeth responds. Are you being a good Girl today? Yes, teacher, I am a good girl... That's right; you are a good girl! Do good girls say bad words? No teacher. That's right, Elizabeth, a good girl, uses nice words. What happens if you use naughty words? Elizabeth responds by shaking her head NO. Elizabeth... Bad girls who use naughty words get spanked, and Bad Girls who miss behaving are sent to the corner for timeout... Do you like time out? NO Elizabeth responds Nurse Heart, go ahead and put the VR Headset on her and let's start the program one day 1, please. And we'll let her sleep while we eat our lunch here and let nature take its course, which shouldn't be much longer with all the high-fiber food she ate this morning. As everyone was finishing their lunch, they heard the familiar gurgling sound coming from Elizabeth's direction then the smell filled the room. Doctors, why must we use cloth training pants on the patients if we intend for them to make messes in their panties? Because Nurse Heart is part of the reinforcement program, they are not big girls/boys; only toddlers and babies mess and wet their panties. Okay, back to work, guys; I'll get the diaper cart while you Doctors do your doctor thing for her. Okay, Christensen was ready. I've stopped her IV, and there she goes peeing her already poopie patties like the baby she is. Doctor Christensen removes her headphone and stops the music. He calls Elizabeth, Elizabeth; what did I say about being a good girl at recess? Elizabeth shakes her head and says I was good, I promise. Elizabeth, did you have an accident again? No, teacher, I didn't have another accident. I'm a big girl! I see. Let me check your pants then and see if my nose is lying. You should be ashamed of yourself, and you said you're a big girl. Do big girls wet and mess in their big girl panties? No teacher. Elizabeth, can you tell me who pees and poops their panties? Little girls? Wet and mess up their panties. And what do little girls like you wear, Elizabeth? Diapers, "Elizabeth responds," Do little girls get to wear pretty panties? No teacher. Little Girls wear diapers. Okay, Honey, let's take you to the Nurses office so she can clean you up. Alright, Nurse Heart, your turn. Let's get her cleaned up and into something more appropriate. Okay, Doctor, give me one minute to finish up her notes. Did you ask her daddy if he wanted cloth diapers or disposables for her? We need to know by Wednesday so that I can submit the requisition order to the diaper delivery service with her measurements. for her diapers, rubber panties, and onesies. Okay, back to the business at hand. Elizabeth, still under the effects of the chemical cocktail Hurse Heart, "I thought you were a big girl; I was mistaken. You are just a little girl, aren't you? Elizabeth," making a pouty face, Nurse Heart says firmly, you are a preschooler; only preschooler make wet and mess their pretty panties as you did. That's not being a good girl. Now is it Elizabeth? It's okay, baby. The Nurse responds, let's get you cleaned up. There you go, all cleaned up; let's get you into these pretty diapers for the rest of the day. I know, Honey, these aren't your panties. You soiled your backup panties, so all we have is emergency diapers for you till your daddy picks you up with clean clothes. It's okay; I'll tell you, daddy, it was an accident. Why don't you lie here in my office and take a nap till it is time for your daddy to get you? Okay, Doctor, your turn. Okay, let's take her down to level 2. Do 2 hours of subliminal messages following up with 1 hour of post-hypnotic trigger words. The Alarm will sound if she wets her diaper and will record how much pressure is in her bladder so we can work on those levels later this week. The Nurse Heart, please let Megan on the Teen floor know that we have a new tween for her coming up at the end of the day. A short time later, an alarm begins to sound from the therapy room as Nurse Heart pushes around a cart of supplies filling the cabinet before she goes home for the evening. Nurse Heart coos to Elizabeth while checking her IV to see if it is empty yet, who is still wearing the headphones, that she is such a good girl and you deserve a special reward for being a good girl. Nurse Heart walks over to a metal two-door cabinet and gathers the supplies needed to change Elizabeth's diaper and a new in-the-box magic wand vibrator. She begins by removing her headphone so Elizabeth can see her Nurse. Nurse Heart unpins her wet diaper and pulls the front down, exposing her cleanly shaven Vulva. Only good little girls who use their diapers get this reward. Nurse Hart applies the now pulsating vibrator to her Vulva and gently moves it in a circular motion as she gradually increases the power and speed of the vibrator until Elizabeth's Heart is pounding and she is breathing quite heavily. As Elizabeth's breathing slows and her body relaxes, Nurse Heart Turns off the vibrator, places it back into the box, and changes Elizabeth into a clean diaper. The Nurse places the headphone back on Elizabeth's head and allows her to nap until Megan calls down from the teen floor, saying her room is ready for her. A short time later, Elizabeth is wheeled up to the 3rd floor to a nearly empty secure ward that is brightly colored like a juvenile teenager's room. Nurse heart presses the call button when a heavy-set brunette woman wearing a lab coat approaches the door and buzzes her in. Hey Alison (Nurse Heart), how is our little Princess doing tonight? She had a fantastic first day, with about 8 hours of therapy so she might act a little bratty we're focusing on the usual week one phrase, "Elizabeth is a good girl," "Elizabeth is a bad girl," and if you need to put her in her place tell her is an "Elizabeth is being a brat," be warned she'll probably wet and mess with this phrase and embarrass the hell out of her with any luck. She is in a daytime diaper, but it's up to you now if you want to treat her as you did Sarah. With training pants till she loses her potty privileges, then heavy diapers. Go ahead and do the usual nighttime diaper for bed tonight. She is on diuretics and laxatives. Here is her medication box for dinner and bedtime. Her meds are to be crushed and served in a baby bottle or sippy cup with either juice or milk; Her med dosing is on the high si, so that it might help her in the morning with behavioral issues. We'll see. If she misbehaves, Doc said level one punishment, so Corner time and spanking if she pushes the matter. Typical age-appropriate bedtime pajamas for her and whatever you see fit for the rest of the night for clothing for her The Teen Floor Gradually Elizabeth is awoken by the sound of voices or a TV. She groggily gets out of bed to tell Ryan to turn the fucking TV down so she can sleep off her hangover. As she walks out of her room and yells and swears to turn the TV down, she stops mid-sentence as everyone looks and starts at her with their mouths wide open in shock. A Heavyset Woman wearing a white nurse's uniform gets up from a rocking chair and says it's okay. Let me get you straightened out. Jimmy, Why don't you let someone else have a turn at Mario? Hello, Elizabeth. I am Nurse Megan, and you are on the Adolescent floor for the night. Wheres Ryan? Ryan is probably at home after a long workday relaxing, and you are here at the clinic still. But I was just at the clinic for marriage counseling. I know, honey, But the doctor said your behavior is way out of control, and you need some more therapy to help you and Ryan get along better. Now sobbing and unsure of what to do next, Elizabeth is shocked when she hears Nurse Megan Say," Elizabeth is a good girl" and should come with her to the bathroom to get her wet panties changed for the evening. Elizabeth nods and responds, Yes, Nurse and follows Megan down the hall past several other bedrooms to a communal bathroom. Let's get you up on the changing table so we can clean you up now. Nurse Megan lifts Elizabeth's legs in motion, pulling down her wet sweatpants and exposing her soaked diaper. Elizabeth is almost in a daze and suddenly realizes she is not wearing panties. Still, she is wearing a diaper, not the panties that she was wearing this morning, or even the fucking panties she had to wear after the dam nurse didn't let her go to the bathroom in time, causing her to pee herself. What the hell? Why am I wearing a Fucking diaper? Elizabeth expresses. Excuse me, young lady, Elizabeth, that is being a bad girl; that is not how you speak to a caregiver, now is it? Nurse Megen lifted her legs even higher, exposing her butt to the air in one motion slapping it? Use this as your only warning if you use foul language here, you will be spanked with my paddle. Do I make myself clear young lady? Or do you need a handprint on that pretty butt of yours? NO! Nurse Megan! I'll be good. Now let's find you some age-appropriate panties. Let's see; I have little girl's diapers and preschool panties, Elizabeth cries, begging Megan for adult panties, not those ugly baby ones, and trying to convince Nurse Megan that she is a big girl and wears panties. Megan responded by saying according to what the nurses have said, there were several accidents today, including peeing all over our lovely guest bathroom and them messing in both of your big girl training panties during your therapy today; maybe I should keep you in a diaper like a little girl. Elizabeth was half sobbing and crying, begging not to wear diapers like a baby. Megan says big girls wear pretty panties, not little girls who poop in their panties. Elisabeth, what do little girls wear who wet their panties? Diapers Nurse Megan. And if I let you try wearing big girl panties, that's a big IF, and if you wet those panties tonight, does that mean you are a little girl? NO! I am a big girl. I don't pee my panties on purpose. Okay, Nurse Megan responds I'll give you a chance tonight to wear big girl panties till bedtime, but at bedtime, you will wear a diaper like the other kids here. Elizabeth Nods her head in understanding. If you argue at bedtime, I'll have to introduce my spanking paddle to your bare butt. Now young lady, about the mouth of yours, you used a bad word when you came out in the day room. I will give you A choice. Now you walk back out there and say you are sorry for saying bad words, or you can choose to take a time out in the time-out chair over by my desk, and if you continue to use bad words, I will spank that bottom of yours. Not what is your decision will you go? Say you're sorry for talking rudely or take a time-out. Looking confused and not remembering using any bad words, she told Megan she would be nice and say sorry. Elizabeth shuffled her feet back to the day room where the others were the kids playing the Mario cart and said in an obnoxious tone; I am sorry for being inappropriate. Megan flops on a couch by herself, pouting and watching the others play the stupid game. Elizabeth is more aware of her surroundings and notices that everyone in this room is an adult but acts like a kid. She also noticed a horrific smell from the man playing the game on the couch. At about the same time, Nurse Megan approaches, pushing a metal cart and asking who is ready for snacks. Everyone jumps up and grabs a cup with a straw or what looks like a giant sippy cup Megan hand Elizabeth a cut with a straw and a few containers of animal cookies and goldfish crackers. When the man so smelled walked up to get his snack Megan announced, Hold it right there, mister, I think we need to change your poopy butt first. Elizabeth ripped open her snack because she hadn't had anything since breakfast, and she was starving; throwing her trash on the couch next to her, and then proceeded to suck down her cup of apple juice. A moment later, a young girl looking about Elizabeth's age came bouncing in from another part of the room, still sucking what looked like a giant sippy cup. Hi, I'm Sofia. What's your name? Elizabeth responds, saying hi, to Sofia. I'm Elizabeth. Say you want to go and help me do a puzzle till they let us have a turn playing Mario. The boys always hog the Nintendo after school. Elizabeth having nothing better to do, says sure, gets up, leaves her trash on the sofa, and goes into another part of the room as Sophia takes her trash and now empty sippy cup to the bins over by Nurse Megan's desk. A short time later, the boys come running back into the room, crashing back on the couch, yelling it's my turn now, Sophia, oh that's Jimmy, and he's a big poopy pants. Suddenly Sophia looked up behind Elizabeth and said hi, Nurse Megan; I was making a new friend. Well, that's nice of you, Sophia, but Elizabeth left her trash on the sofa and needs to go pick it up and be a good girl. Now Elizabeth! Please clean up your mess and do like the other kids did and put your trash in the garbage and your sippy in the dirty dish bin. Elizabeth lets out a grown, rolling her eyes, gets up from the puzzle, pushes past another kid, and throws her cup and trash in the garbage in front of Nurse Megan. No, Elizabeth, you didn't listen, did you? I said the cup goes in the bin with the dirty dishes, and the trash goes in the garbage can. Now fix it, or I'll send you to the time-out corner. Elizabeth's mouth lights up without thinking again, "What the Hell? I am the adult here. Why are you treating me like a child?" you have no right to tell me what to do. Now pissed off! She grabbed the cup from the trash, threw it in the dish bin with a loud crash, and walked by Nurse Megan, muttering that she was bitch under her breath. Megan gasps well, "I guess time-out will not work for a mouth like that now, will it." Megan reaches over at lightning speed and proceeds to grab Elizabeth by the ear and a wooden object from the top of her desk, all while dragging Elizabeth down the hall, screaming and swearing toward her room. Once in her room, Megan told her to stand in the corner while getting ready for her spanking. A moment later, Nurse Megan ordered Elizabeth to come and lay across her lap. Now I am going to spank you for being a bad little girl. Pulling down her sweatpants and training panties, exposing her bare butt while keeping her panties in place, I am going to give you ten swats for using such naughty words, young lady. Elizabeth begins kicking and screaming NO, NO, you can't spank me. I'm too old to be spanked. Oh, I see, and what happens to little girls who use bad words? Elizabeth is still struggling. Elizabeth responds that bad girls get spankings. And is Elizabeth being good right now? No, Nurse Megan. Hold still while you get this spanking; smacks her butt with the paddle and says one out loud Elizabeth screams in pain with Megan, conveying now count 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. Okay, now that's over; let's change your panties; you are wet. Look like your sweats are still dry here. Let's put these on now. Please be a good girl tonight, so I don't need to spank you again. Megan begins to walk back to the day room. She notices her panties are thicker than she had a moment ago. Nurse Megan the panties feel weird. Those panties are our preschooler training panties. Let's see if you can keep those dry for the rest of the evening. If you have an accident, they should be okay and not leak. Nurse Megan tells Elizabeth to be a good girl and find Sophia so they can play Mario together and play Legos until cleanup. Elizabeth walked over to the couch and took the controller from the boy's. This game is stupid, and I could be home watching reality TV shows. Hey Sophia, can we watch TV instead of playing these silly games? No, we can't watch real TV here. We only get to watch movies here. A little while later, Nurse Megan came around again, passing big cups of juice this time as if I wanted apple juice or grape juice; I picked an apple juice. Nurse Megan said she didn't have any clean straw cups left for the night, so everyone got sippy cups and no complaining, warning us it was almost cleanup time. Nurse Megan disappeared again, probably going to bug the boys; thank God I was trying to win this race until Megan yelled clean up time. After cleaning up, everyone must go potty and wash their hands before dinner. I didn't want to stop. I was having fun for once; Nurse Megan walked over to Sophia and asked her if she was dry. While dodging her head around, Sophia was trying to see the TV, so she didn't crash in the race. Nurse Megan responds no; you're wet; you need to sit on the potty, change your pull-up, and take Elizabeth with you. She probably needs to go potty anyways. Elisabeth proudly says no, I am a big girl, and I'm still dry, unlike baby pee pee pants over here. Nurse Megan Says, "Elisabeth, you're being a brat, that was means," Sofia groans. It's okay, as she crashed her car in the game with Megan turning the TV off. Let's go potty, Elizabeth, before we get into trouble, as you did earlier today. As Elisabeth and Sophia walked towards the bathroom, Elizabeth suddenly needed potty because she had to pee and make poopies and began yelling she needed to go potty; Elizabeth tried running but just froze as she wet and messed in her preschool training pants. Nurse Megan comes over to Elizabeth, asking if Elizabeth is still a big girl and if she is acting like a little girl. Elizabeth, now standing with a yellow and brown puddle crying meekly, said I'm a little girl. Okay, let's get you changed; Sophia flies by, running to the potty and sitting on the potty. Moments later, Sophia, when you are done on the potty, you may pick out any pair of preschool training pants you would like to wear. Would you also please get a pair for Elizabeth while I find her some clean clothes? Nurse Megan says Sophia comes and picks out two pairs of princess-printed training pants and transparent rubber panties for them, about the same as Nurse Megan, returns from the lines cart one last pair of preschool pants and onesie for the evening. Elizabeth was less than thrilled by the attire. Once all dressed, Nurse Megan helped her off the changing table. Sophia took Elizabeth by the hand back to the day room to help set the table as instructed by Nurse Megan. A woman wearing a kitchen apron set out dinner trays and filled our sippy cups with more juice. Everyone was excited to see we were having chicken nuggets and pizza bites for dinner with steamed vegetables and rice. Nurse Megan said if everyone eats all our dinner, we could watch a movie and have popcorn before bed tonight. We were allowed seconds on the nuggets until they were all gone and all the juices we wanted to drink. After everyone had been excused from the table and cleared their plates to the dirty dish bin, we ran to the couches. We waited for Nurse Megan put a movie on. Okay, Sophia, you get to pick a movie while I take Elizabeth to her room to help her get her Pajamas on before the movie starts. Nurse Melisa and I walk back to my bedroom. Now Elizabeth is a good girl. Let's get you ready for bed so you can watch the movie. She then proceeded to undress and change my wet training pants into a thick cloth nighttime diaper and a pair of onesie-style pajamas that zippered in the back with a loud-click sound. After she finished, she told me I was a good girl and told me to tell Sophia it was her turn and to wait on the couch till the movie started. After everyone was in their nighttime diapers and pajamas, Nurse Megan put in the movie Sofia had selected: The "Little Mermaid." I didn't complain about the movie. It was okay, and Sophia seemed to be enjoying it. Nurse Megan joined us on the couches, sitting with us girls, bringing over a bowl of popcorn that we all devoured and sippy cups for the boys and me. As the movie continued, Sophia whispered something to Nurse Megan. Sophia, "Are you ready for your baba?" Nurse Megan asks. Sophia nodded yes. Sophia scooches into nurse Megan's lap. As Nurse Megan reaches over to the tray, picks up a full bottle of milk, and then placing into Sophia's waiting mouth, letting her snuggle until her bottle was all gone. As the movie ended, two boys and I were sound asleep, and Sofia was fighting to stay awake till the movie was finished. Nurse Megan told us it was time for all of us to go to bed, and she would be in to give us night time loves and to tuck us in momentarily; then we needed to be quiet while she did her paperwork and had coffee with Nurse Kathy when she came on shift. The Night Shift How did your evening go with the children tonight, Megan, " it was ok, Kathy, fairly routine we got a new one. She is still in the adult brat stage so she might be an issue come morning time. I had to lite her butt up once tonight. She seemed to have made new friends with baby Sofia. Oh, that reminds me, we need to adjust Sophia's bedtime program to level 3 tonight and that she has a pacifier tonight. How did the boys do tonight? Let's see, Jimmy and Stevie are on week one of level 3. They just had their hormone shots yesterday, so they are a little whiney; watch out for Stevie. He has been tugging at his cage, and it looked red when I changed him tonight. I'll have Dr. Milling check it during morning rounds to ensure it is not too tight. Adam did great tonight. He played with the boys most of the evening. He did ask if his mama would come to visit, but I think she had errands to run after she left for work, so she'll probably check in on him in the morning while he is down at the daycare. Adam stays at level 3 for another week until he starts sucking his thumb more often. At least there were no new notes in his chart about adjusting his program tonight. All their Bottles and headphones are on the cart, along with four new pacifiers. Ok, Great, thank you, Megan; kiss your princess on the head for me when you get home. Kathy poured herself a warm cup of coffee and set off on her rounds, taking care of the boys first with a quick diaper change and placing each of their headphones on their heads for some soft, soothing music for the evening. Jimmy and Stevie were sound asleep, both sucking their thumbs, and Kathy replaced the thumbs for milk bottles with their nighttime medications. On the other hand, Stevie was sucking on the corner of his blanket. Kathy made quick work of him, stopping ever so briefly to appreciate how baby-smooth his pubic region was. On to the girl's room, slipping into Sophia's room and slipping the bottle in her waiting mouth, and placing her headphone on was a piece of cake. Kathy slips into Elizabeth's room to find her sleeping facing the wall and glides her hand down to the hidden crotch zipper; she unzips the sleeper enough to slide her hand in to feel her warm diaper. She is not too wet and will be fine for a little bit. Her favorite part of the job was the week one babies, who are still adjusting. Not sure if Elizabeth would be willing to take her bottle yet, Kathy decided some snuggle time was to ensure she drank all her bottle with the nighttime medication in it; Kathy Slips into her bed and under the warm heavy blankets, allowing Elizabeth to roll over and snuggle her naturally. Kathy gently guided Elizabeth's head to rest on her chest, allowing Kathy to feed her the bottle and rub her back simultaneously. With a bit of rubbing of her lips, her mouth opens, and she begins to suck the bottle slowly, but she is doing well. Kathy eventually stops snuggling, whispering in her ear that she is a very good girl, and slips a pacifier into her mouth before adjusting her headphones for the night. Kathy does the same with the rest of the children swapping their bottles with pacifiers and whispering to each one in their ears what good boys and girls they are. Returning to her desk, Kathy types on the keyboard and, with a mouse click, turn on soothing music for each child. Making a mental note to probably change Elizabeth in an hour once the laxatives work their way threw her. Floating on Clouds Elizabeth walks back to her bedroom with everyone else. She is not sure what to think of her situation. If she argues or uses terrible words, Nurse Melisa will spank her again, but if she acts like everyone else, it is not so bad except for the wetting my panties thing. I had never peed my panties like this before, except for the occasional accident. Nurse Melissa shouts. "Ok, kids, lights out. I'll be around a bit to tuck you all in and give you bedtime, loves." A few minutes later, Nurse Malisa comes in, pulls up a thick heavy comforter, and tucks me in, kissing my forehead, telling me to be a good girl and sweet dreams, princess. Elizabeth, oh Elizabeth, where are you, silly? I hear a familiar voice calling, but I don't see who calls me by name. All I see are other kids playing at a park. All I desire is to play; then I hear the voice again saying good girls get to play with their friends. As I run off to the swingset, my tummy starts to hurt, so I stop running; then I hear the voice again say, Good Girls, make poopies in their diapers; play with your friends. So I run off to play on the swing set. I swing for what feels like forever, going higher and higher until I feel like flying through the clouds. I fly through clouds with a blue waterfall flowing from cloud to cloud. I hear a woman yell snack time, so I fly back to the park, where a bright blanket is lying on the soft green grass. I join several other exciting children for snack time. As I am eating a snack, I hear Honey, you must be thirsty; let's get you a nice bottle of juice to drink. The woman tells me, good girls, drink their bottle till it's all gone, she reaches into a bag, pulls out my bottle of juice, guides the nipple into my mouth, and gently lays me back till my head is resting in her lap as I lay there slowly sucking and enjoying the sun shining down on my body, feeling all warm and tingly. I hear the voice again say it's time to get you changed. I lay there sucking my baba while she unsnaps my Jumper and unpins my wet, messy diaper. "I should give you a big reward for being such a good girl," The woman says as she pours lotion into her hand and slowly works it into my diaper area. I like this a lot. I spread my legs wide and let the woman's fingers work. A few moments later, I felt pulses of electrical shocks racing through me as the woman announced she was all done, closed up my diaper and rubber panties, and pulled her Jumper; ok, you can play some more till nap time. Rounds Nurse Kathy checks her watch, lays down her book that she has been reading out of boredom, and glances over at her security monitors, checking on all of her babies and making sure everyone is sound asleep for the night; their movie-time bottles should ensure that they all stay asleep for the evening. She puts down the terribly written romance novel one of the other nurses left for her to read. Getting up and stepping into her supply room, she emerges with her stocked diaper-changing cart and heads down the hallway with the cart in tow. Starting with her poopy boys, expertly, she unlocks and unzips the legs of each sleeper and removes their soiled diapers. Then uses her pocket lite and inspects each chastity cage. Making sure there was no poop anywhere on the cage, she removed their cages and put clean ones on them. When she was cleaning Jimmy's cage, she noticed how small he was now; she remembered when he first arrived, Jimmy was above average size, but now he was no bigger than 3 inches. Oh, Jimmy, you have been such a good boy, I hear. It would be best if you were rewarded. Kathy reached into her cart, pulled out a bin with Jimmy's name on it, and retrieved a rectal massager slipping a condom over it and slipping into his now lubed bottom. she then proceeded to do quick work of bringing jimmy to an orgasm and obtain semen sample for the lab. In contrast, jimmy lay there sucking on his pacifier. She gives him his reward as she brings him to another orgasm, making sure he is adequately drained of semen, and he slows his sucking. Kathy takes a baby wipe and cleans him up, applying a heavy coat of barrier cream and powder, then locking him back up in a new clean chastity cage and pinning him back into a thick nighttime diaper. Kathy makes her way to Sophia's room; she notes in Jimmy's chart about her rewarding him and producing a semen sample for the lab. Kathy quickly changes Sophia and rescues her stuffed doggy that had fallen to the floor. Her final stop of the night was Elizabeth's room. She turned on a small night light, adjusting it so as not to bother her while she unlocked her sleeper and pulled down her very wet and stinky diaper. She quickly cleans her up, tossing everything into the attached diaper bin on the cart. As Kathy glances at her chart, it doesn't say I can't reward you for the rest of the night. Maybe it will help you sleep better. Kathy reaches into a drawer in the cart and pulls out a small pink device designed for encouraging positive behavior. Kathy applied a liberal amount of lubricant and slipped it into her vagina with a moisture sensor wire sticking out into her diaper. Kathy then programs the device with her tablet to activate when the moisture sensor reaches 98-96 degrees with a ramped program until Elizabeth orgasms; then, the device turns off till it's activated again. Kathy could also manually control them from her tablet anywhere on the floor. After pinning the clean diaper back and snapping on clean rubber panties, she zipped and locked the sleeper back up. Kathy went into the bathroom, pulled out the now full diaper pail, and placed it by the main hallway door for the night crew to pick up when they drop off clean diapers and linens. After she finishes her rounds, Kathy goes into the small kitchen area and fixes herself a meal and a fresh cup of coffee. While eating, she pulls out her cell phone, opens her nursery cam app, and spies on her baby, who is sound asleep at home. Kathy sat back at the desk with her coffee and continued reading her book, tapping a button on her desk to reactivate the motion sensors in case someone tried to get out of bed like last night, glancing at the security monitors every once in a while. A while later, the alarm went off, indicating one of the kids was moving a lot. She mutes the alarm and looks at her security monitors. Seeing that Elizabeth had just rolled over to her stomach, Kathy turned her tablet back on and looked at the app for the vibrator, indicating it had just activated and turned itself off within 5 minutes. This process happened a few more times before the kids were gotten up. Morning Routine At 6 am, the door alarm sounded. Kathy was delighted to see it was her long-time friend Ruth, who had come in an hour early to visit before Ruth started her day shift on the floor. She pushed in two large hampers of clean diapers and another card full of linens and children's clothes. There were five shelves on the tall cart, each labeled with a child's name and containing clean clothing and bedding. Oh good, you found a cleaJumperer for Sophia. She was upset she didn't have one to wear for school yesterday, and I figure she and Elizabeth can share till Elizabeth's clothing order arrives. Over the next hour, Kathy and Ruth worked together to get the ward cleaned up and ready for the day's activities. Shortly after breakfast and the morning rounds, the caregivers from the school program would arrive to collect the children for the day's therapy and learning activities. The two nurses worked quickly to get the kids up from bed. The first began with the three boys taking them to the shower room and stripping them out of their heavy soiled overnight diapers. The Nurses strapped each child into a tilting shower chair with a locking butterfly harness and wrist straps, preventing little hands from wandering while they worked. They then rolled them into the large oversized shower, where the nurse made quick work washing them down and doing a quick shave off any excess facial hair; since the Hormones and laser hair removal treatment last week, the boys now lacked any form of pubic hair making it easy for the nurses to perform their morning duties. Each of the boys was washed and then dressed in clean diapers and secure locking onesies before being allowed to choose their clothes for the day. After the boys were ready for the day, they were sent off to the playroom until breakfast. Next were the girls; the Nurses usually took extra time getting them all pretty for the day. Kathy woke Elizabeth up, removing her headphone and placing them on the nightstand in their charger for later use. Surprisingly Elizabeth was still sucking on her pacifier this morning, so she opted to let her keep it for the time being to see how long till she didn't want it anymore as a way to judge her age level today. If the smell in the room was not telling enough, the vast brown and yellow stain rubber was a sure sign that she was in a very heavily soiled diaper. Still groggy, Kathy helped Elizabeth out of her locking sleeper into the waiting shower chair, where Kathy secured her with a locking neoprene butterfly harness to prevent her from falling out and hurting herself. Once they were in the shower room, she removed the heavily stained diaper. At that moment, Elizabeth begins to moan through her pacifier, breathing heavily as a stream of pee through the over-saturated diaper onto the floor. Kathy noticing that she is peeing, immediately begins to praise her telling her what a good girl she is and that a good girl gets rewards. Let's give you a break as Kathy removes the vibrator from her and places it into the bin to be cleaned later. Kathy went to work scrubbing her down in the warm steamy shower. Elizabeth waking up from her groggy sleepiness, is enjoying the ever-so-gentle touch and soothing lullaby that nurse Kathy is signing. At about the same time, Nurse Ruth entered Sophia's room to discover that she was awake already, having removed her headphone and placed them neatly on her nightstand, which was still happily snuggling her stuffed doggy while sucking her pacifier. Nurse Ruth reaches out her hand to try to steal her precious passy was meant with a blocking hand and her head shaking NO. It's mine in a baby voice. Ok, princess, hop up into the shower chair and let got get your princess parts squeaky clean Ruth helped Sophia into the waiting shower chair and strapped her in with a locking butterfly vest. Sophia loved her morning shower time, especially with Ruth, who knew how to make her feel special. As the hot water sprays over Sophia, she begins to relax as Ruth expertly scrubs every inch of her body, paying extra attention to her princess parts, letting her finger wander into Sophia's now waiting vagina, asking Sophia if she was a good girl last night for Nurse Kathy. Sophia spread her legs wider as the pressure began to build until there was an explosion of sensation and warmth. as Ruth removed her figure, a gush of pee poured out of Sophia onto the shower floor with nurse ruth telling her she was such a good girl as Ruth finishing up washing Sophia's hair as she is making a muffled whining sound though her pacifier that she needed to make poopies without missing a beat, Nurse Ruth whispered in her ear Good Girls don't need the potty to make Make poopies. Soon Sophia was grunting and pushing out a load of poop in the shower while Ruth told her she was a very good girl and would get a treat this morning. The Nurses took each girl into the adjacent dressing room, where brightly colored jumpers with matching tights and diaper covers were on the changing table. Now girls announce Nurse Kathy. Are you big girls today or princesses? Kathy approaches Sophia and asks if princess Sophia is a big girl because if she is a big girl, she could wear those great sweats pants and sweatshirt with training pants, or if she is a beautiful princess, she could wear this beautiful Jumper and matching tights. Sophia almost spat out her pacifier, announcing she was a princess and wanted the pretty clothes. Kathy approaches Elizabeth, still contently sucking on her pacifier and staring at the brightly colored Jumper. Elizabeth, you know good girls wear Jumpers and tight, right? Only big girls wear ugly clothes with yukky training panties; you know you want to be a princess today, don't you? You did not like those yukky cold wet training panties yesterday! Elizabeth is now screaming in her mind that she is a big girl. Still, while staring at that beautiful Jumpers, she slowly nodded her head yes and pointed to the Brightly colored Jumpers for her clothing choice today. Elizabeth, that's a good girl. You make good choices. Nurse Ruth and Kathy do quick work dressing the girls and combing their hair into ponytails for the day. Kathy reaches into a bin under the changing table, finding matching pacifier clips for each girl. Before helping them down to the floor and escorting them into the playroom until breakfast time.

Little Lucy, 7 years old, stood at the door of her school principal's office with a bruised eye, a bleeding nose and a tooth that was going to fall. She had fought with a schoolmate who made fun of her because don’t have reached the bathroom in time she had peed herself. This was the fourth time that she was involved in a fight that month, and the principal hadn’t idea how to manage the little girl. He phoned Lucy’s foster mother communicating to her that the situation with her daughter was out of control and that the only option was to involve an association called ARPU saying to her that he would have given her the association's contacts. Now Lucy was waiting sitting down on a bench in front of the Principal office’s door trying to use her wet dress to hide her soaked panties and white pantyhose. Lucy was bursting into tears when her mom arrived at school. (Pleas contact me only if you're really interested)

Hi everybody! As a long time lurker and even longer writer for my own enjoyment, I finally got the push to actually share something. It couldn't have been done without the help of some writer friends, /u/Sissybecky (r/abdlstories) who beta read and Clairanette (aka Clairacuddles on A03), talking to both of them for hours about writing. Check them out too! Scarlet is a young woman down on her luck. She has a broken heart, bank account, and sex life. Her luck finally seems to be changing when she is offered a job on the outher side of the country, and really has no option but to take it. But what she doesn't know about the city of Caulfield Valley may get her in trouble, like what her new boss, Emilia Kane, secretly does as a side hussle. a slowburn, long form lesbian fic that is very kinky and ABDL oriented. 1- so it feels real There is both terror and freedom in restarting your life. Not in a cosmic sense, but in the moving-across-the-country-and-leaving-everyone-you-knew-on-the-opposite-coast sense. That is where Scarlet found herself this morning. Eyes red from her jetlag, hair a mess from the uncomfortable seats, and a puffy-eyed death stare meeting her from the scratched bathroom mirror. Even with her fresh start, the fresh apartment, she was not ready for her first day at a new job in this new, unfamiliar city. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to forget. She wanted to go back to her home with—a pang of heartbreak through her chest interrupted the thought. That home was no longer there, and no one was waiting for her to come home. Instead, Scarlet let out a dejected sigh, opened the cardboard moving box that contained the toiletries that were not in her carry-on, and got in the shower. She was up far earlier than she realistically needed to be, to make sure she could wash her hair, shave her legs, and still have plenty of time for makeup and a relaxed cab ride to work. The pipes whined and hot water splashed her face as the new-ish utilities sprung to life. She focused on getting the sleep out of her eyes. She resented her own anxious, over-prepare-until-exhausted tendencies. Yet Scarlet knew that on mornings where she didn’t do this, she was late. It was part of why she’d lost her last position as a Library clerk. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. If I started taking those then…what if... Scarlet let the thought drift up with the steam, and focused on the rigorous maintenance that her curly, shoulder-length bob required. The rest of the shower went likewise. She would move on to some other form of self-grooming, only for another intrusive thought to appear, and she would do her best to let it roll off of her. By the time she was done, dripping into a towel and stepping out, she had gotten most of the self loathing scrubbed off. Scarlet turned to face the same mirror. She wiped the fogged glass with one pale hand, and the same dead-eyed look greeted her. Scarlet forced a smile, hollow but just enough to come across as courteous and eager, rather than like a retail worker who was dead inside. She had plenty of practice masking in this way. Her breakfast was a microwaved cup of coffee and protein bar, the leftovers from her flight. She’d have to go to the grocery after work. She ate just enough to then turn to her prescriptions, the small, resentful white triangles tasting bitter and frustrating, her knowing that it was a 50/50 on whether she would be vomiting before lunch. The three small blue estrogen pills had to melt sublingually, and wouldn’t upset her stomach. They did, however, taste like minty asshole as they dissolved under her tongue while she started her makeup routine. It went quickly, Scarlet’s old “professional” looks still in her head after years of rushed mornings where her mediocre nutrition and makeup routine battled for time. Her hands danced; brushing, patting, dabbing, blending, and setting at a quick but deliberate pace. This wasn’t Scarlet’s first time working places that made her tone down her looks and cover her smattering of artsy tattoos that criss crossed her arms. Her new boss had assured her however, that so long as she wore at least business casual and none of the tattoos visible were profane, no one would care. Simple enough to cover the guillotine on her shoulder blade or the shoddy stick and poke of her highschool bff’s band “The Fart Coffins” on the opposite blade. She only sometimes regretted that one out of any of the designs on her body. She finished with a modest amount of very neutral blush, and got up to dress in the outfit she had laid out the night before. A simple white blouse and black skirt, black tie, black flats. Should show a good first impression for a secretary of a legal office. She couldn’t help but roll the sleeves partially, however, showing hints and edges of her ink. Scarlet made sure her hair was dry, shook her head as a jolt of the last taste of estrogen left her mouth, and called for her cab. Just before leaving, she packed her purse, and heard an unfamiliar jingling at the bottom. Fishing through the myriad receipts, dust bunnies and half finished chapsticks, she finally found the culprit, and her heart dropped. A simple gold ring, with an inscription inside; Futile – the winds –/ To a Heart in port –The singular band was heavy in her hand, and Scarlet felt the heartbreak all over again. She wanted nothing more than to scream. She wanted to sob until her throat was hoarse, to wail in pain. She wanted to call her. Instead, she tenderly wiped the welling tear in one eye to preserve her mascara, roughly threw open the drawer to toss the precious bomb in with a clatter. The front door slammed and locked behind her. The cab hummed quietly as it rode down the dense city streets, and Scarlet focused on taking in the sites of tree leaves slowly changing color through the cab window. She was headed further downtown from her new apartment, and even still there were beautiful trees she wasn’t familiar with. This is exactly what I thought the East Coast to look like, and yet it’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined, she mused to herself. She was used to her hometown in the Bay, the palms and pines of the San Francisco and Oakland areas all she had made friends with until now. The trees were dotted in front of the tall downtown shops, looking like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She took a picture every now and again, killing time until her quiet cab driver pulled over to a sidewalk. Scarlet smoothed her skirt, handed the man his fare and a tip, and stepped out in front of a small office building. Her flats echoed against the shiny, reflective tile as she followed signs and elevator directories to Kane Arbitration & Mediation Legal Services. The interior of the elevator shined, polished enough that Scarlet could see her own reflection. She took a moment as she rode to the fourth floor, using the reflection to adjust her skirt. She was so tall that no matter what she wore, it always eventually turned into a skirt shorter than intended, and that was the last thing she wanted to project on her first day. Once the soft fabric was in place, better resting on her hips and covering much of her long thighs, she noticed she had arrived. Scarlet swallowed, her nerves making it louder than she had wanted, and exited as the doors parted. Kane Legal was one of the only offices on this floor, and it didn’t take her long to find, but she paused outside the door anyway. She took solace in the fact her new employer wouldn’t be able to see her through the doors frosted glass. Scarlet had a moment to steady the shaking in her hands. There’s nothing left for you back there. This has to work. You have no other option. The thought was supposed to be comforting. She opened the door and recalled all the times that thought would light a fire in her—to ignite the contrarian and spiteful nature she had to anyone that doubted her. A year ago, this would have made her unstoppable…but the last year was harder than she could have ever predicted. The reception area of the office was nicely decorated, looking like the kind you’d see on a mid-budget daytime law drama. No one was at the desk that she assumed would be hers, so she tried to peer around a corner leading to what she assumed would be Miss Kane’s proper office. Sure enough, a door at the end of the hall was open and revealed a head of deep black hair peaking just over the top of a large computer monitor. Scarlet took a moment for them to notice her. In another life, Scarlet would have confidently marched into the office, head held high, with enough swagger to convince anyone that she owned this office. Now the poor girl stood there, shivering as her future awaited. The Scarlet of a year ago would have left this newer Scarlet behind, just like the one she cared about the most. She prayed this wasn’t some kind of test. “Excuse me?” She called out, causing the head to twitch, “I’m looking for Miss Kane?” The top of the head rose for a pair of eyes to see just over the top, and then a hand brusquely slid the monitor on a pivoting stand out of the way. Scarlet recognized her now, the telltale hazel, almost golden eyes and a striking streak of platinum blonde to one side having stuck with her since their video interview. “And you have found her.” Her voice merrily sang, reverberating down the tiled hall. She stood. “You must be Ms. Finch. I am so glad to finally get you out here. May I be the first to properly welcome you to Caulfield Valley, I hope your flight was smooth?” Scarlet was immediately put off balance, having to look up at someone for once. Even if Emilia Kane hadn’t been in imposing black heels, she would easily have three inches on the six feet even Scarlet. She effortlessly glided down the hall towards Scarlet, her hand outstretched. Scarlet met her, returning her’s for a handshake. The taller woman’s hands were so soft. “Ah, t-thank you, Ma’am.” She politely smiled, and decided to rest her hands on the strap of her purse so as to not fidget. “I appreciate that, it was a long flight.” She wanted to divulge how exhausted and sore she was, but held back. “That is such a shame.” Emilia twisted her mouth into a concerned frown for a moment, a hand grabbing her chin in thought. “If you ever need to fly for me again, I can make sure you have better accommodations. Thankfully, your first day probably will not be too demanding. I am hoping to simply get you familiar with the way I organize best and have you operating at full speed before my next big meeting in…,” She checked the date on her phone, pulling it from the breast pocket of her dark green suit, “-three days. Does all that sound good?” Scarlet sighed in relief. “More than good, Ma’am, I’m sure I can be up to snuff by the end of the day.” She was a tiny bit surprised by how confident she sounded. “Oh please, Ma’am makes me feel old.” She waved a hand as if shooing the notion away, “I know to most it is respectful, but I prefer ‘Miss’ or just Emilia if it is all the same to you.” She rested the same hand now on her hips, which Scarlet noted were surprisingly accented in this type of suit. She nodded in response, and Emilia gestured for her to sit in the chair behind the receptionist desk. The woman looked like she was off a runway, the two piece suit and platinum jewelry complimenting her intense eyes and the vibrant streak of silver- no, platinum blonde in her hair. The hazel of her eyes became almost amber-gold as the light from the windows caught them. When her new employer wasn’t looking, she shook her head to erase the thoughts. Scarlet couldn’t exactly be thinking about how attractive her boss was if she didn’t want to risk her new living situation. “—and your last employer said you were familiar with all of these programs, is that right?” The question snapped Scarlet back to reality as Emilia motioned to the open windows of the computer. “That’s right. All of this is right in my wheelhouse.” Scarlet affirmed, grateful that the job didn’t seem to have any sudden surprises. “And this looks like a pretty standard inter-office set up on the phones as well. Would you prefer a call or a ping on your computer when you have a call or a client?” She hoped the question would help make her seem competent and ‘a go-getter,’ something her father had told her once upon a time about starting a new job. “A call is fine unless I am already with a client. If I do not respond, you may call regardless.” Emilia said, a small smile of approval spreading across her red lips. “On the topic of clients, occasionally you are to sit in for meetings and you will be taking notes. These are legal matters and meet the standard of attorney-client-privilege. So it is vitally important you understand that anything you hear or write down in those meetings are confidential, but could end up under scrutiny if we were ever to be sued or subpoenaed. Are you comfortable with that?” “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Scarlet nodded, “To be clear, any notes I take are private between you and I unless that happens right? Like—” she kicked herself for her valleygirl filler word, and tried to recover, “a doctor? For example, I wouldn’t talk about this with anyone except you or the client, even during off hours?” Scarlet couldn’t lie to herself and say that didn’t make her anxious. Her understanding of the legal system told her there were a million and one ways to mess up proceedings if everyone didn’t know them ahead of time. The clarity would help alleviate that anxiety. “Exactly. We can talk about it informally outside of the office but we must use discretion. God forbid you run into a client at a bar, make sure neither of you are shouting without realizing. However you got the most important part. Good job.” Something inside Scarlet warmed at her new boss’s approval. Emilia’s phone lit up and began ringing in her hand. She rolled her eyes. “I have to take this,” she explained, grabbing a small packet from the top drawer of the desk, “Just answer the phone if any calls come in and start filling this out with your info so I can make payments and records and such. It will only take a moment!” Emilia walked back up the hall, closing the door of her office. Scarlet could hear her talking in a tone that sounded professional and even, but couldn’t make out anything specific. When Scarlet realized she could not eavesdrop, no matter how hard she tried to focus, she instead grabbed a pen from the desk and focused on the forms. They were typical of starting with any new employer: tax info, new address, signing agreements. Scarlet was sorely missing the over-designed packets she would receive on her first day at each of the oversized chain stores she had grown up working at. The kind that tries to convince the reader that “we’re a family here,” isn’t the same as “your boss will not give a single shit about you if you think for yourself.” They were always a riot to laugh at with her fellow cashiers, clerks, and baristas. Everything was astonishingly professional, and felt tailored to the tiny law office. The forms were of course up to every standard Scarlet was aware of, but everything appeared handwritten and then copied from a master document. The young woman marveled at the curves and loops that seemed so practiced, so official. Calligraphy as a hobby? Scarlet’s daydream was broken as the phone rang. Her arm sprung to life, grabbing the phone and bringing it to her ear. “Hello, Legal Offices of Miss Kane, how can I help you?” Her mind auto piloted the greeting, a tactic she’d learned as a young adult to perform before any social anxiety made her hesitate to answer. There was a silent beat, broken only by soft background hum from the receiver. A deeper voice finally spoke. “Oh, is Miss Kane not in?” “I’m sorry, she’s stepped away for another call. I’m the new secretary.” The professional mask came back to her like a second skin, despite over a year of disuse. “Can I take a message for you?” Scarlet offered. “Er,” The voice stammered for a moment, then clarified, “Yeah. Actually, you can tell her that I have to back out of Friday’s meeting, I won’t be rescheduling. She can keep the deposit. Goodbye.” Scarlet busied herself scribbling the note down. “Wait, I’ll need to tell her your name.” She tried to catch the man before he disconnected. It was too late, the line went dead. Scarlet took a confused look at the receiver before returning it to the cradle. She tried to imagine what would have someone behaving this way, but even her previous customer support and retail work did not track here. Scarlet merely blinked in confusion and returned to filling her new employment forms. She could hear the muffled speech of her new boss, not able to pick distinct words, only cadence. The forms were dull and simple enough, and before too long Emilia’s office door clicked open. Scarlet was finishing the bottom lines of the last page, hoping quietly to impress the imposing woman, as childish as that want may be. Emilia’s heels marked her approach down the hall, and Scarlet spun gracefully in her swivel chair to face her. “Did I hear a call come in while I was gone?” “You did, and I've got a message,” Scarlet tried her best to sound professional yet nonchalant, “your Friday meeting canceled, said to keep his deposit.” She looked up to Emilia to gauge her superior’s reaction. Emilia gave nothing but a solitary eyebrow twitch. “He didn’t leave a name and hung up…is that normal?” “Whether it’s normal or not, we get to keep the deposit for my time, and that’s what matters to me.” Emilia said, too hurried to be as casual. Scarlet decided to just let that slip.There was something going on here, but she would catch the intricacies of the client relationships soon enough. Emilia very pointedly avoided her gaze to check the time, and excused herself again. The rest of the day moved slowly, save for asking Scarlet for a coffee run in the afternoon, which turned into buying a cafe scone for Scarlet’s lunch as well. She busied herself with memorizing the upcoming schedule, the program, and the routine expected of her. She tried not to fidget as the caffeine had its way with her later in the day. The bouncing of her leg coincided with an increase in worry. Would she have another reaction to this medication like her last, and be unable to sleep? Would Emilia be angry that she wasn’t being proactive in some way? How was she supposed to know? She paused, trying to stop ruminating. She lifted her hands away from the keyboard. They were shaking, and she squeezed her eyes closed. When Scarlet opened them, they focused through her fingers, at the sticky note she had written down the message, and the smaller coffee order beneath it. Sighing, she wrote down the coffee order on her phone and on her desktop notepad. If she could do nothing, she would be constructive and prepared for the future. Her hands kept shaking for the remainder of the shift. Scarlet wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety, the caffeine, or her meds. She’d been so isolated until moving she hadn’t noticed if the shaking started then. Just past five, Emilia’s heels clicked down the hall, a smart designer purse over one shoulder. “Now, is there anything I can clarify before we leave?” Her voice sang again and the hall reverberated in tune with her voice like Brian Eno was behind it. Scarlet shook her head, smiling with her mask back on as she spun to face Emilia again. “Thank you so much, but I don’t think I’ve got any questions yet.” Scarlet wanted to be sincere in thanking her, drop the facade and business-casual tone. Speaking without rehearsal tended to bite her in the ass lately. She squeezed her hands between her thighs to try and avoid any probing questions. Scarlet could only imagine suspicious and overbearing concern at best if her new boss thought there was something wrong with her medically. “Is there anything else I can help with? I’ve just been organizing your schedule and getting used to the layout in here all day.” She desperately wanted to get her groceries before it was too dark. “No thank you, Scarlet. You’ve already helped me enormously, you have no idea.” Emilia ushered Scarlet out the door, and locked it behind her. * * If one thing in the world could be counted on, it was chain stores being identical on the inside. Scarlet pushed an identically squeaky cart up identically packed aisles among indistinguishable brands. The only difference really seemed to be the accents. She approached bulk rice bags, hesitated, and drew out her phone with dread. Her meager bank account balance confirmed her fears, and she begrudgingly went for the generic. Other staples like cheap instant ramen and pasta followed suit. The sole splurge was the cheapest, sweetest, garbage brand of red wine she could find. Her cab ride was identical, save for the setting sun behind her. Purples and oranges and cotton-candy-clouds danced behind her, out of view, as she slowly sank her head against the cool glass of the window. At least the trees are still pretty. She raised her phone again to try and take a picture, but the camera went grainy in the growing dark. Her new apartment greeted her with the same lonely tone as when she first received the keys. It was cold, it was empty, the furnishings were bland and picked by the property management company. Nothing here was hers yet, save the stacked boxes of cardboard. Her tired arms carried the groceries to their appropriate resting places, and she cracked open the wine before settingling on the couch. Out of habit she reached for her remote, only to remember she didn’t have a TV yet. Sold for the moving expenses. Scarlet was so tired of sighing. She took a swig of wine, an old comfort that was basically a juicebox and rubbing alcohol that reminded her of being broke in college. She opened her phone, wishing for any stimulation. Her friends, (rather former friends) were still posting stories, still sharing their bad takes and inane jokes. She considered getting off the couch to do the same. It was all performative anyway, right? But the energy wouldn’t come when she called out for it. Another sip, and she swapped apps. Scarlet noticed the singular blink of darkness on her phone’s screen. “Please, you piece of shit. I really can’t afford you to die right now.” Her worries seemed unfounded, as the brilliant screen returned and the malfunction wasn’t replicated for the rest of the night. What was strange, however, were the kinds of new accounts she was being recommended as she scrolled her timeline. Now, Scarlet was no prude. She enjoyed fucking and her alone time as much as anyone. Estrogen and Progesterone even maybe had her hornier than the average. But her timeline wasn’t full of this much smut. She had friends in the sex work game, but she didn’t exactly like, share, favorite, reblog, or any other influencer verb their content. Another website breaking their algorithm again? Even if Dani did porn, she didn’t do this kind of porn. Morbid curiosity, and a slight increase in her pulse, beckoned Scarlet onward. Drawings, videos, and staged photos of women in things she’d only seen in racy HBO content. She didn’t even know what to call the more intricate…props…but felt herself linger on a clip of a woman riding a…pleasure machine plugged into the wall behind her. Scarlet’s face matched her namesake and she scrolled on. A woman sitting at a home office, the quintessential framing of every vlog you’ve ever watched. Finally somebody is fucking sane in this world. She clicked the video without even reading the caption, and the perky eyed labrador retriever of a woman began to speak. “Hi everybody! This is the Channel of O. SO!” The blonde clapped for emphasis. “You’re trying to learn about BDSM, and you have no idea where to start.” Scarlet’s eyes went wide, she took another sip, and watched the woman jumpcut and explain through terrible jokes. It was a trainwreck, steam engines exploding in her mind. It made her hot in the crotch. Scarlet finished her glass, finished the video, and poured herself another while going deeper to the woman’s personal channel. More videos, more introductory guides. Scarlet polished the second glass, and was too engrossed despite the initial impulse to cringe to even pour another. Her alarm rang to remind her to take the rest of her medication, pulling her out of her trance.How long had she been zoned out? It was eight thirty. Losing track of time like that wasn’t uncommon for her and this diversion was welcome. She resigned herself and went to go take another dose of bitter antidepressants and her dose of Progesterone. Once the poison was administered, she looked across her kitchen to the counter where she left her phone. It lay there, like a metal megalith, imposing despite being a little plastic rectangle. Scarlet had to gather her nerve just to walk across the room and lift the damn thing. Once it was back in her hand, she used shaking hands to unlock it. The Channel of O was still smiling up at her, and she felt her cheeks getting redder. Her glass of wine was forgotten as she brought her phone to her bedroom. She unboxed her duvet, and sat on the soft material as the video resumed. Scarlet was enthralled, soaking in every bit of knowledge she could. “There’s all kinds of different dynamics! You’re probably familiar with a ‘master/slave’ dynamic,” The blonde woman began, “but there’s also pets and owners, and even daddies, mommies,—” Scarlet’s pulse quickened,”—or more generically caregivers and littles! Sometimes that’s called ABDL if it involves diapers.” Scarlet felt her breath catch in her throat. Her fingers flew into a flurry, and a private internet search later, her phone was filled with images that made her heartbeat accelerate. Videos, drawings, and many, many depictions of adult women, with all their curves and freckles and other parts that excited Scarlet, in thick diapers. They ranged across all body types, and the infantile garb varied from plain white plastic to over the top patterns to evoke baby diapers. Scarlet continued to scroll, eyes wide in wonder and excitement. She finally stopped, a thumbnail capturing her attention like a punch to the gut and clicked the video. Scarlet’s mouth went wide, and felt herself starting to leak into her panties. A gorgeous, curvaceous woman was lying on her back, supple lips wrapped around the nipples of another woman, in nothing but a pastel colored diaper and delicate, lacy lingerie top. The tender moment evoked breastfeeding, save for the “mother” holding a massive vibrator against the woman’s…diaper. The “baby” of the couple was moaning, growing louder, and Scarlet felt a tent form under her skirt. Eventually, the “baby” was screaming, thrusting her hips into the massive sex toy, in time with cries of “Mommy!” Mommy’s smile was intoxicating. She was very clearly getting off just as much as her baby, her face painted a combination of maternal nurturing, hedonistic pleasure, ecstatic elation, and sadistic control as she began thrusting the enormous vibrator in time with her partner’s thrusts. It was obviously acting on the merit of pornography, but Scarlet couldn’t tear herself away. She allowed her hand to snake up to a nipple poking through her top. Scarlet realized her own arousal, and in embarrassment, closed the tab, flinging her phone to the edge of the bed like it was a dangerous spider. She flung the covers off, racing to the bathroom for a cold shower.

Hi there! This is about a fictional ABDL community that I'm working on. It features adults who live in a kinky community for ABDLs. Everyone is over 18. I have about 10 chapters done and will be posting them here over time. Here is a detailed disclaimer that talks about the content and themes of this novel:: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65186383 Content Warnings Extensive Diaper Use (Wetting and Messing) Extensive Regression themes Extensive Sexual themes Adult Nursing CNC Spanking/Corporal Punishment/Orgasm Control-Denial/Chastity Bullying and teasing Humiliation ------- Previous chapter is here: --- Chloe sat on the stool in the upstairs preschool playroom and fumed. She turned her head, slowly, inching her chin millimeters at a time to make it seem like it wasn’t moving at all. The clock was directly behind her. “Chloe, face the wall,” said a voice from behind. It was the voice of Mr. Hentier, the grownup in charge of this section of the playroom. “If I have to tell you again, you’ll stay there longer.” She snorted and returned her head towards the dull pink walk ahead of her. Whatever. Without being able to see the clock, Chloe guessed that only ten minutes had passed. That meant another twenty remained. Well, twenty minutes remained on the stool, though her discipline wasn’t going to end there. What a fucking baby, she thought. Tattling because she’s a big crybaby and can’t handle the truth. Chloe had been rudely disturbed during her nap, and had to make things clear. She stayed under her covers, because her covers were the best thing available to help shield her nostrils. She yelled and screamed with righteous fury. These miserable two months could not end fast enough! Her roommate gave it back (though with tears) until a stern knock came at the door. Not waiting for permission to enter, as the two women inside were merely preschoolers, Mrs. Marath burst in. “I’m bigger than she is,” Chloe said, whining when Mrs. Marath began ripping the covers off and grabbing at her arms. The smell was even worse without the covers on her face. “She’s lying.” “Oh, nobody cares,” the grownup said, annoyance dripping from her words. “Behave more, then. Then maybe someone will believe you.” Chloe had still pleaded her case while she was marched down the halls of the Preschool in pajama pants, which did a poor job of covering her Todders, and a black bra. Mrs. Marath hadn’t even given her time to put a shirt on. She was dressed like a goddam Nursery stinker. “She pooped in the room,” Chloe pleaded. “I told her to get out and that she was a baby.” “And that’s all you said?” Mrs. Marath laughed. “You want to keep going? I haven’t decided how many spankings to assign you. And besides, I don’t see pullups on that bottom of yours yet, so you shouldn’t talk.” Chloe held her tongue. Everyone agreed that it was a faux pas to mess in a Preschool dorm room. Hell, it was frowned on in Daycare, so even though Jaclyn was essentially a Daycare baby at her core, she still should have known. It wasn’t even her first time in two months. Sometimes, in cribs, people couldn’t help it. But in Preschool there were beds, and there were always nighttime grownups to help find a potty in a pinch, if you pressed the button in the hall. This, though, was a midday mess. Unacceptable really. Jaclyn had gone out of her way to do it or take her business to the room and stink it up and Chloe had told her so. If she said dumb or bitch or shit pants thumbsucker, that was what Jaclyn likely needed to hear. Go ahead, little crybaby. Tattle on me for being a big meanie. Just make sure you tell them why I was a meanie. Then we’ll see whose reputation stands in the long-term. Oh right, nobody is going to care about you because you’re going back to the DAYCARE! There was a boy beside her, sitting on his own stool, also staring at the wall. His name was Karl, and Chloe did not know him well. He wasn’t new to Preschool, in fact he’d probably been here for the last year and a half, the whole time she had. Maybe even longer. But he was quiet and uninteresting and she didn’t find him altogether attractive. A waste of a man in pullups, really. He’d been sitting on the stool since before Chloe had been brought into the playroom, and Chloe had overheard that his crime had been skipping his chores. As boring a sin as he was a person. Chloe wasn’t sure what the Nursery penalty for skipping a chore was, she wasn’t even sure Nursery babies could tell time. But in the Daycare and Preschool, truancy called for a spanking after a timeout. And Chloe knew that well because she’d been on one of these stools for the same thing just yesterday, and she had had a makeup chore this morning because of it, and after she completed it, she would still have to plead to her room grownup Mrs. French to get her outdoor privileges back. Though Jaclyn’s crybabyness probably caved any hope of that until at least tomorrow. At least Chloe had a good reason to get in trouble. Mr. Hentier walked over to the stool area to fetch Karl. Chloe watched him stand and follow the grownup out of her sight. She made sure not to turn around too much to bring the grownup’s wrath once again. The pair did not walk far, and Chloe heard them clearly. “You’re wet,” Mr. Hentier said. “I’m sorry,” Karl said. There was no more on that topic. His pullup, in addition to his shorts, was going down around his ankles too, right there in the playroom. “You need thirty,” Mr. Hentier said. And then he began to bring the palm down on Karl’s bottom. Hentier brought it hard, and the smacks were loud and crisp on the man’s bottom. The punishment stools of the upstairs playroom were located along one wall, right beside the potties. Both of the Preschool playrooms were considerably smaller than the massive ones that could be found in the Daycare. Even the smaller Daycare playroom dwarfed both of the Preschool playrooms. The Preschool building lent itself to smaller alcoves and quieter spaces. It had a large upstairs library, which was the only library in all of Nurserton. There were more changing rooms, rather than theme-park sized ones in Daycare. Occasional potty rooms were sprinkled throughout all of the floors in a far greater density than could be found in Daycare. They were still the bowls on the floor potties though. Flushers were for Juniors and grownups only. Chloe could hear the conversation in the playroom behind her. Preschoolers, overall, were a disappointing bunch. There wasn’t a whole ton of difference between what Preschoolers did for leisure, and what Daycarers did. Games, baking, watching Disney, taking naps (this wasn’t so bad). They just did the same things, but did them in slimmer, less stinky diapers. Karl’s spankings punctuated the din of a crowded playroom. Perhaps about two dozen other Preschoolers were in there now, but many of them hushed to watch Karl get a spanking. Karl’s punishment was over as soon as it began. Chloe knew it wouldn’t feel that way though. There were footsteps and rustling as Karl got dressed. Mr. Hentier would be taking him to the changing room down the hall. She waited, counting in her head and imagining the distance it took to get from the punishment area, across the playroom, and through the door. She turned her head to look at the clock and her surroundings. Fifteen minutes left, she saw. She also saw that the playroom had gotten a bit more crowded than it had when she was first marched in here. A group of Preschoolers were watching Star Wars, almost a dozen were having a very elaborate tea party. Two women were having a handstand competition, their skirts flipping to reveal their diapers underneath. A bunch of babies were nearby her in the lounge playing a card game, probably Magic the Gathering. Beside them was a single woman, sitting in a chair with her legs crossed, meeting her eyes over the cover of a book. It was Jessica, one of the few special ones. The soon to be Juniors. Chloe almost wanted to laugh every time she saw her. It was earlier this year when Jessica had been dragged out of the outdoor pool with a stinky swim diaper, and the pool had only opened in early May. Jessica had no chance in undies. “You’re supposed to be turned around,” Jessica said, folding her book closed on her lap. Chloe stuck her tongue out back at her. She didn’t turn her head back for her, though. Chloe knew that Mr. Hentier would soon be back. When exactly he did, Chloe couldn’t be sure. That he had shoes on barely made a difference against the carpeted floor of the playroom, and grownups were just averaged sized adults after all. But then she heard uppity Jessica’s voice. “Chloe turned around for a while,” she said. “Did she?” answered Mr. Hentier. His voice got louder. “Did you turn around Chloe?” “No,” she said. “She’s lying, ask anyone.” “No, I believe you,” he said. Then the footsteps got louder. Chloe heard his clothes rustle. The pink on the wall became purple as his shadow cast over hers. “You earned fifteen more minutes, and it’ll be more if you argue.” Chloe didn’t even nod. She sat and stared at the wall and fumed. Stupid Jaclyn and stupid Jessica. They were friends, that’s what it was. They were both sitting together at breakfast this morning, they were often together. Probably met as thumbsuckers in the Daycare together or something. Daycare babies who couldn't cut it always stuck together. They liked to hold hands as they rode the elevator back down to stink town. Jessica included. Jessica very much included. Who did she think she was? She wasn’t even a Junior yet. She’s probably all hopped up on her newfound power. The little bed puddler. Whatever. It’s just a half hour. At least she wasn’t getting locked in her room. She felt her diaper through her pajamas. It had been a little wet, and her last change had come before lunch, towards the end of potty training. She’d pooped on the potty at the beginning of class and got a star, and then she wet for the rest of class until she needed a change. She’d wet at lunch, and the grownup who checked her as she left the cafeteria let her go. After that, she went back to her room to take her nap, during which she wet again. She woke up to pee; she wasn’t a bed piddler, though she’d barely gotten to drift off to sleep again before Jaclyn came in to crap her pants. Now, probably no more than an hour since the end of lunch, she had to pee again. She let it go. She’d hit her twenty stars a few days ago anyway. The minutes ticked away, though they did so in secret, somewhere behind Chloe. Timeout can, at times, represent its own sort of sedentary adventure, and sure enough, Chloe did not spend long alone. Two women were brought this time, and Chloe felt confident enough to crane her neck to look at them. Penny was the one whom Mr. Hentier sat down just beside Chloe, a tall brunette, strong and rather intimidating, who always wore pigtails and was the poster child for big-but-not. Yes, Chloe knew that someone foolish, like a Jessica, might think that it was herself that was the biggest hypocrite in the whole building. But it was Penny. Chloe, at least, never lied about having earned pullups. She was honest about that, not just because she didn’t actually want pullups, but because she didn’t care about being the biggest. She admired Sofia, another Preschooler, who never did her number #2 in the potty and earned all her stars the hard way, simply because she found the whole concept of using the plastic potties repulsive and decided to use them as little as possible. Chloe sympathized with that. Penny was the type of baby who couldn’t see how Sofia or Chloe was bigger than her, and even when backed into a corner with all the evidence that her few dalliances in pullups didn’t amount to much, she still wouldn’t. To take shit from Penny was all the more annoying because Chloe had her own, very valid reasons for being ‘below-average’. Below average, at least, as the Preschool went. The other woman sent to the stools was Ariba, one of the youngest people in the entire village. A fresh, fresh, 21-year old. Chloe would only learn later that Ariba was there for pouring a bowl of cereal, milk and all, down the back of someone’s diaper. Mr. Henriet sat her on Chloe’s left, so that Chloe was the prisoner in the middle. “Mr,” Penny said, seated upright on her stool, “I have to go potty.” “You know the rules,” Mr. Henriet said. “I really have to go,” she said. “You should have done that before you started playing with yourself,” he said. Penny turned herself and stomped her feet. “Please! I need my stars!” No you don’t, Chloe thought. You coulda shit in the potty in PT today. Penny hadn’t. During PT, during Simon Says, Penny had bent forward and filled her diaper, and then kept on playing. Before that, multiple grownups had all but led her to the toilets and asked her (as they asked everyone) if she had to go. She’d said no. Penny was doing worse than even Jaclyn, as she often did. The only difference was that Penny always managed to offset her failures with a passable month, though just barely. It was no secret that if Penny ever missed the mark and was finally put in Puffington Pluses, she’d never climb back out of Daycare. Mr. Henriet walked away after only saying to Penny what everyone knew he’d say; “Hold it, you’re a big girl.” That was the rule. In the Daycare they’d swoop you off a timeout stool to carry you to the potty, and sometimes even knocked time off a timeout for potty success. In a world of stinkers like Jaclyn, grownups had to cherish every poop that got in a potty. In Preschool, you held it through your timeout. Penny crossed her arms and huffed. A few minutes later, Penny put both hands on opposite ends of the stool, lifted her bottom up, and did her business. Chloe watched it all happen and then buried her head in her hands. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, loud enough for Penny to hear it. All she did though was hold her chin high in the air and examine her personal piece of the pink wall. A whisper came from Chloe’s other side. “Who did that?” “Who do you think?” Chloe complained. “You,” Ariba said. “Eat me,” Chloe spat back, still in a whisper. “I don’t pay to eat pussy,” Ariba snarled. “Especially not from a bitch like you.” The grownup’s voice, now tired, rose up from behind him again. “For God’s sake ladies,” he said. “No talking! How hard can this be!” Chloe chewed on her tongue, but couldn’t help herself. “Ariba called me the b-word!” Ariba groaned from beside her. Mr. Henriet could be heard growling behind them. Once again he crossed the carpet to reappear behind the ladies. Chloe began retelling the events, starting from Penny’s accident. “She’s leaving out that she said ‘eat me,” Ariba said, taking both of her hands and karate chopping her own diapered crotch. Mr. Henriet registered this in silence. “Did you say the b-word?” Ariba considered for a moment, and looked at Chloe. Then she turned her head toward Mrs. Henriet. “Sure did. Didn’t stutter one bit. Bitch bitchy bitchy-ass bitch bitch assbitch poopybitch little pussy is a coin slot bit..,” Mr. Henriet did not listen to any more. In one motion he scooped Ariba up. He lifted her off the stool and into the air. Ariba laughed like a crazy person. Chloe watched, breaking the head-turn rule once again, as Ariba was hauled over his knees, as her diaper was ripped off and the spankings began. He didn’t even ask her to count, he just began…bam bam bam! They were serious and they snapped. He covered thigh and upper cheek. Ariba laughed through the first fifteen until she started to squeal and cry. Now and then Henriet would stop and tell her to hold still. Eventually, he asked her if she was sorry. “Didn’t stutter one bit,” she said, through tears. The spankings resumed, and come the end, that moment of continued defiance would turn out to be only the halfway point. Ariba soon began to bawl as if Mr. Henriet’s hand was in fact a hot poker, branding her bottom with every slam. The 21 year old would not return to the stools. Instead, Henriet would fix up her diaper and send for an attending Junior, who would take Ariba back to her room. Ariba was in for a decent grounding, which would start with room-confinement until possibly dinnertime. Chloe would receive yet another fifteen minute extension for her poor choice of words, which was even worse because of Penny’s stink. Worse yet was that Penny only had a twenty minute timeout, meaning that she’d be let off the stool without a spanking and taken to the changing room before Chloe was off. The spanking finally came, after an hour on the stool. Chloe’s lower back hurt, as did her thighs, though she didn’t know why. She’d know why soon enough. Henriet took her to the wooden chair he had set up beside the stools and had her stand in front of her while he untapped her soggy diaper (he checked for number 2 first, just to humiliate her). Chloe’s eyes met many of the other playroom denizens. The numbers had thinned since she’d been dragged into the playroom Mrs. Marath’s haughty storm. The heat of the high afternoon was passing and many of the babies had pilfered outside. Or, the juice and other drinks everyone had for lunch had done their work, and the changing room was packed. Chloe had thought Jessica had left, but there she was, pullups around her ankles, seated on a plastic potty with a Junior standing beside her. Oh, what a showoff. Chloe felt many eyes on her when her diaper came down, and the air in the playroom felt cool now that the warmth of her pee had fallen away. Her hair was trimmed to nothing, as was everyone’s who still needed diapers and pullups. It’s easier to change that way, but here, cheeks and lips out in the middle of a room that boasted a few dozen, Chloe felt even more naked. Mr. Henriet made sure she laid across his lap such that her butt faced the most populated angles of the room. He told her she’d have to count to 45, thirty for what she’d said to Jaclyn, and another fifteen for how she’d acted during her timeout. If she misbehaved on his knee like she had been since she’d been there, he warned, it could be more. After ten Chloe was already panting and closing her eyes before the hand came down. “Are you going to apologize to your roommate?” he asked. “Yes sir,” she said. His legs against her stomach made it hard to breathe. After 12: “Are you going to do it again?” “No sir,” she said. If Jaclyn doesn’t mess in the room again, I’ll hold off. After 20: “We’re going to use respectful words when we don’t like something, right?” “Yes.” “Yes what?” “Yes sir!” She was panting for real now. She wasn’t even halfway…though she would be if it hadn’t been for Jessica and Penny and Ariba. He’d switched to her thighs and back again, and everything was burning. After 25: “You’ve been a bad girl,” he said. After 26: “Where do bad girls belong?” “Right here sir!” Fuck that one hurt bad. After 31: “Where do you look when you’re in timeout?” “At the wall sir!” After a few more she bucked and almost slid off. Mr. Henriet didn’t scold her, and helped her readjust across her lap. Seeming to know she was nearing her limit, the last dozen were quicker pops. Built on the earlier spankings, these still stung. They would continue to sting for hours. Chloe’s misdeeds continued that day, though that was the end of what she was caught for. After her spanking, Mr. Henriet took her to the changing room. She had to watch Penny’s poopy butt get changed, making that the second such privilege this day alone. She didn’t see any of Jaclyn, not in the playroom, not with her best friend Jessica. Surprisingly, Jaclyn hadn’t been in the upstairs changing room, though Chloe supposed that more than an hour had passed since her faux pas in their dorm room. Hoping that Jaclyn was getting lost in the woods, Chloe returned to her room. When she opened the door, she found that Jaclyn wasn’t there. The smell was, though, but perhaps it was her imagination. She didn’t take her clogs off to step on Jaclyn’s bed to open the windows. That, at least, was fair. Chloe figured that she’d resume her nap, now that it was almost two hours after she’d tried to start it. Laying down felt better than sitting, after all, and a few more minutes of the breeze and Chloe’s room wouldn’t smell like poop anymore. Yup. It was Chloe’s room. Not Jaclyn’s. Jaclyn was meant for a crib. That was for sure. She took her skirt off and changed her shirt into something comfortable. She put headphones from the cabinet beneath her bed and laid on her tummy to avoid feeling the sting of her bottom. She procured an old iPod. A laughably ancient artifact by outside standards, it was a perfect one for Nurserton. It provided music, but no phone to the outside world. More importantly, there was no camera. She didn’t remember where she got it. That was the case for many of the things in her cabinet. And it would not be the case for something else. Chloe relaxed for a while, and then stood up and shut off her iPod. Yes, that would seem fair. She thought. She walked to the door and opened it. The hallway was empty, all she could see was a row of still doors. Ariba happened to be one of her neighbors, and hers was the only room where the light was on. The door wouldn’t be locked, but Ariba would be dead meat if she was caught coming out for anything less than a fire alarm. Chloe shut the door and returned to her room. It couldn’t be anything obvious, nothing that she’d wear on a regular basis; nothing that she’d notice anytime soon. Normally, nondescript and regular things were the best targets; like the headphones and the iPod. Even if the original owner had seen them in Chloe’s hands, as they had, in fact, they would have no way to prove the Chloe’s were indeed theirs. Often, they wouldn’t even suspect it. Fancy personal onesies and clothing items, things that Jaclyn had acquired plenty of over her time here, wouldn’t do. But this item needn't be for Chloe’s benefit. This was for Jaclyn’s loss. She reached into a drawer on Jaclyn’s bedside table. There she found Jaclyn’s jewelry box. She took it out and opened the latch. There was a little song that played when she did, something she’d heard and rolled her eyes at countless times. It was a little Disney song. It reminded Chloe of Cinderella. What a drooler. There, sitting on the side of the box was a smaller, inner box. She reached in and opened that box, black and felt, which housed a single pair of earrings…small and shiny, with a pink heart set in the middle. Chloe had seen many roommates get their demotions, and knew that in the craziness that the move entailed, baby Jaclyn wouldn’t have time to even open her jewelry box to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Baby Jaclyn wouldn’t think of it until she was set up in her boisterous baby room, and then she’d suspect that she’d lost her precious earrings somewhere in transit. Even if she blamed Chloe, she’d never find them. Chloe left her room, diaper dry and ass sore, and marched off to her hiding place. She gave Ariba’s door a good tongue for posterity. The felt box was still in the larger singing jewelry box, which itself still remained in Jaclyn’s bedside drawer. Its contents, however, jingled in Chloe’s pocket.

This is my first story and I'm not a native speaker, so please be gentle. Tags: lesbian, wet, messy, diaper girl, humiliation, erotic, spanking Some tags will be relevant in later chapters. Dirty girl Megan comes home early and finds out her young flatmate is not as innocent as she thought. 1 - A surprise She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Megan had been home early and still not used to having a flatmate had wandered through to her bedroom to get out of her work clothes without announcing her presence. It came as quite a surprise when she walked by her flatmate's room and saw her, back to the open door, kneeling on her bed and humping one of her pillows. Not that she minded, in fact she was enjoying the show. She had been quite taken with young Lisa from the moment she walked into her life. She liked them young, shy and tiny and Lisa, barely 19 years old, fit that description perfectly. With her long blond hair, beautiful face and youthful body, she was very sexy, at least in Megan’s opinion. And here she was, humping her pillow, giving Megan the show of her lifetime. It had all started with a call from her mother, who had been living next to Lisa's parents for at least 20 years. They were good friends and when Lisa's mother had mentioned to her that Lisa wanted to move to Megan’s hometown to go to college there in fall, it had taken her all but a few seconds to suggest that Lisa rent a room in Megan's big condo. Megan herself had been here for the last 13 years, first for college, then later to work at the company she had been an intern for during her first years. It had been a small company at the time, but with some luck and the right strategy, they had risen to be one of the bigger employers in town. And with Megan being part of it almost from the beginning, she herself had risen to be one of the senior employees in the company, now being responsible for 20+ other employees. She had bought her condo only 2 years ago, giving herself the treat of getting the penthouse of the 4 story high building, which added privacy and a big balcony to the deal. It was almost too big for her alone, but she had fallen in love with it the moment she had stepped into it and bought it a short time later. She knew she could easily afford it so the decision had been easy. So she hadn’t been looking for a flatmate, not needing one and enjoying her freedom from her former flatmates, and had been less enthusiastic than her mother thought she would be, when she had told her about Lisa's plans. She had known Lisa since she was a baby of course, she even had babysat her from time to time. But it had been 5 years since they had seen each other, and now being 19 years and going to college, Lisa might have changed from little girl to a drug addicted goth for all Megan knew. It had taken her mother almost half an hour to convince her that Lisa was still the shy, pleasant girl she had been back then. They had agreed to Megan visiting her parents and having a talk with Lisa about her plans. That had been 3 months ago and it took Megan all but 5 minutes to decide that Lisa could indeed rent a room from her and that she would have to restrain herself from seducing the girl on her first evening there. Since then it had been a constant struggle for Megan to not be too obvious, not wanting to scare innocent little Lisa away. The same innocent little Lisa, who was now right before her own eyes, not so innocently humping her pillow while squeezing her small breasts and moaning like a pornstar. Megan couldn’t tear her eyes from the view, now leaning against the doorframe and starting to massage her own breasts through her blouse. She watched fascinated, as Lisa continued for almost a minute, then stopping abruptly and leaning slightly forward. At first Megan thought she had been seen and slowly backed away a few steps. But Lisa didn’t look at her or made any move at all, just leaning slightly forward. Then a grunt, and bending a bit further. Now it looked like she was having some cramp or pain. Megan looked on, now slightly concerned for the wellbeing of her flatmate. That is until Lisa gasped in relief and then started humping the pillow again in earnest. Megan looked on, now confused about that little interlude until it started again, Lisa leaning forward a bit more this time and now exposing her little butt to Megan. Megan almost gasped at what she saw at that moment, holding her hand over her mouth in shock. Lisa wasn’t wearing panties as she first had thought. They had looked a bit childish to Megan, with small animals printed on them. But now Megan recognized them as some kind of pull ups or diapers, and Lisa was right in the middle of filling them to the brim. It took her a few seconds more, then she gasped again and resumed humping her pillow. By now it had been a few minutes of Megan watching Lisa, and Megan was unsure of how to react, when Lisa’s moaning got a bit louder and then stopped suddenly. Looking up Megan saw her shaking all over her body and then slump forward, panting like she just ran a marathon. Megan was still confused but she knew she had to leave or Lisa would see her right away, which would be very awkward for both of them. So Megan slowly backed away towards her own bedroom, still somewhat unsure of how to react. When she entered her room, she tried to analyze the situation she had just seen. Was Lisa really wearing a diaper while she masturbated? It could have been some odd panties. But she had watched her mess herself. Could she just have misinterpreted the grunts? Perhaps she was in pain. But then Megan shook her head. No, she had seen what had happened. Hell, she had smelled what had happened. Little innocent Lisa had humped her pillow while wearing a diaper and messing herself, and from the looks of it, she had had quite the orgasm in the end. Who would have thought Megan thought to herself, now smiling and starting to undress from her work clothes. With the confusion and concern for Lisa out of the way, Megan's arousal came back with full force. It had been quite the show and to Megan’s own surprise, the kinky behavior of Lisa hadn’t been repulsive at all. When she had thought about scat and similar stuff before, it had been quite disgusting for her, not being sexy at all. Now looking back, when picturing Lisa with her filled little diaper on her pillow, it only added to Megan’s own arousal. She started squeezing her breasts again and it only took her a few moments to let one hand slip into her panties, which were already quite wet from the show earlier. With the picture of Lisa in her mind, she started masturbating again and it only took her a few minutes to finish with a very satisfying orgasm. An orgasm and a decision that would change hers and Lisa’s relationship quite a bit she knew. Megan had taken a shower in her ensuite afterwards and had put on some casual clothes again. Now she was hungry and went down the hall to the kitchen. When she reached Lisa's room, things were unchanged from when she had left. Lisa was still lying in her bed, fast asleep. Megan almost laughed when she saw it, but then she started thinking that this would be her perfect opportunity. She continued on to the kitchen and started making something to eat as fast as she could. A few minutes later she returned, now entering the room and sitting down right next to the girl on her bed. She was still sleeping, and Megan looked over her with hunger in her eyes. She would make Lisa hers, of that she was sure. And it would be so much fun to do it, too. Megan looked at Lisa's butt again and saw that her suspicions had been right. Lisa was wearing some pull ups, and looking at them from the side, Megan could see an opening in the back where the leghole was. Lisa obviously had made a big mess, bigger than what the pull up could handle and it had pushed back against the pull up so that she could see the mess from where she was sitting. It was quite a surprise for her to not be disgusted by this but to look forward to cleaning up her little dirty girl in the future. But that would have to wait, today Lisa would be very embarrassed and it would be Megan's first priority, to make her comfortable again, preferable in her arms. With a deep breath and steeling herself for what would come next, she gently touched Lisa on her shoulder, slowly caressing her down her arm and ending on her hip, just touching the side of Lisa’s diaper. “Lisa honey. Wake up, it’s time for dinner.” Lisa's eyes fluttered a bit and she started moving, but it took her a while to open her eyes and look around in confusion about what was happening. Megan smiled down at her and gently patted her on the hip. “Come on sleepyhead, it’s time to get up. I prepared dinner.” “What time is it?” “Almost 6:30. You were fast asleep and I thought you would like something to eat before you go to bed again.” Lisa smiled at Megan’s grin, knowing that she was just lazily wasting most of the day since she had assembled the last of her furniture in the morning, which had been quite tiring. “That and I think you need a change.” With that Lisa’s eyes flew open in shock. She had completely forgotten what she had been up to before she fell asleep and now it came back to her. And Megan had caught her. Slowly she was fumbling for her blanket to cover herself, knowing that it didn’t really matter anymore. Tears started running down her cheeks while she looked up at Megan with fearful eyes. “It’s alright, Lisa.” Megan was still caressing her side and now looked up, seeing Lisa’s hand becoming frantic in her search for her blanket. “Shhh, it’s okay. Here, let me help you.” With that, she pulled the blanket over Lisa’s still mostly naked body and then resumed gently petting her on her shoulder. “It’s alright, you’re not in trouble. I know you’re embarrassed, but I’m really okay with it. You know, why don’t I go back into the kitchen and look after dinner again, while you get up, go take a shower and then join me and have something to eat, okay? We can talk about it then.” She was looking into Lisa’s eyes and then nodded her head and with a small hug started to stand up and slowly leave the room.

Disclaimer: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65185502 Content Warnings Extensive Forced Diaper Wearing (Wetting/Messing) Extensive Public and Private Humiliation Extensive Corporal Punishment and Bondage Extensive use of the themes of fear, shame, guilt, and dread Some consensual sexual slavery/servitude themes Occasional Sexual Themes Occasional Sexual Intercourse ***I do not condone any of the events or themes in this story, and do not intend to glorify or advocate that anyone conduct their life in this way. Nobody should model any sort of erotic behavior on the events of this story.*** Previous chapter: ------ Lily rested her mop on her shoulder. After a moment with her eyes closed and her breath steady, she peed. Warmth surged out of her. It hit the front of her diaper like a tennis ball against a wall, and then it sloshed backwards beneath her. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t a good feeling. She didn’t like her pussy being dipped in a pool of her own hot urine. But it was a familiar feeling, and fleeting. The diaper absorbed it all to carry it like a pocket against her inner thighs. Whatever peeing used to feel like was a distant memory. Another inmate walked by, heedless of the wetness on the ground. The woman smelled like sweat. She smelled of worse things too. This inmate had clearly come from the yard, and brown streaks of dirt from the women's tennis shoes followed the inmate through the part of the block that Lily had been told to mop. Lily sighed and took the mop off of her shoulder. She held it over the bucket, wrung it out, and then plunged it back into the soapy broth. Clean the floor from Cell 230 to 260. That’s it. That’s all she had to do. So she set out to deal with the tracks left by the other inmate. She didn’t bother yelling at her. What was the inmate to do? It’s not like there was a mat by the big double doors that separated the interior of Cellblock A from the yard. One couldn’t leave shoes anywhere but in one’s own cell (against the wall, under the cot, if one didn’t want to anger a guard during an inspection). This wasn’t a house, where shoes were left by the door. This was a public place. And nobody cared whether or not the floor was actually clean. Lily did though, so Lily mopped. She started in the direction where the woman came from, towards the double doors to the yard. She wasn’t supposed to go beyond cell 230 with her bucket and mop, that wasn’t her job. Her job was to just clean the floor from Cell 230 to 260 and to do it, and nothing else, for an hour. That ‘nothing else’ included talking, but she spoke anyway. Other inmates that she knew would come by and they’d say hello. Sometimes they’d ask her if she knew where another inmate went, or if the guard walking on the upper deck was in a good mood. Those bad moods really mattered because that determined if even a little amount of conversation merited discipline. But almost always, even the surliest guards don’t feel like writing a discipline report on an inmate for some chitter chatter. That doesn’t mean they never did, no, they absolutely will at some point and there is also nothing to do about that. But there’s no point in living to avoid it. They’ll write up an inmate when they want to, and Lily had learned to accept it. She took a look at the nearby guard. He was a big man, and thick around the belly. He had a belt with a club in it, though she’d never seen any of them actually use those. He was up on the upper deck, and he looked like he had seen the same thing Lily did; a woman coming in from the yard in muddy shoes. He made his way to the nearby staircase and went in the direction of the orange-clad woman in muddy shoes. Mopping wasn’t enough to fully occupy Lily’s attention, even if it was difficult to make out the dirt footprints against the reflective surface of the floor. She felt like a tracker, following some wounded animal. But really, no, she felt nothing like a hunter. She felt more like a roomba, with wheels and an optical lens that could spot filth and hone in on it. Lily see dirt, Lily clean dirt. That’s what Lily is capable of. The guard disappeared into the cell where the woman had gone. Honing in to check that diaper. A different breed of roomba. He came out a few moments later, with the woman walking in front of him. The woman’s face was expressionless as she walked in front of the guard. Her diaper was thick. Its outlines were clear in front, and they puffed out the orange fabric of her jumpsuit. Lily’s was no better, no, Lily’s was worse. Most uniforms shrunk in the caustic detergent of the laundry rooms, though the tightness and revealing embarrassment around the crotch were always the least concerning aspects of the shrinkage. The outlines of the woman’s diaper were visible on her tummy, where the top of it stopped, and across her hips, even though the plastic wings of the diaper there were very thin. The woman looked uncomfortable as she made her way, and her gait had the tinge of a waddle to it. She had probably been like that when she came through Lily’s section of the floor before, but Lily had been too busy peeing to notice. She had noticed the woman’s smell, though, and it was no surprise that she was going where she was going. Not far away, towards the center of the cross-shaped block where Lily lived (and would continue to live) was a changing center. It was one of two in Cellblock A, the other being located symmetrically opposite across the rotund central area of the block. It was nothing more than an area blocked off by a low wall, with chairs oriented around a medical table. The woman walked there and sat down in one of those chairs. From Lily’s position in the middle of the hall, she could count maybe ten or so heads sitting in chairs just like that woman. She knew almost all of them (though this particular woman in the muddy feet was someone she wasn’t familiar with). They all stared blankly at the medical table, which featured another guard as well as a woman, an inmate, stark naked on her back. The best seats in prison. Lily watched as the guard began his return journey down the hall. His boots squeaked as he went. Lily looked at the path that the guard and the woman took. Another trail of muddy footprints crossed the space between 230 and 260. These were less visible, but Lily had little else to direct her attention towards. She made a mental note to mop down in that direction once she was done with the first set of footprints that the inmate had made. She doused the head of the mop once more in her bucket and made her way. One of the things to think about in Stenton, when there is just nothing else to think about, is when you’re going to get your diaper changed. To say that Lily was not resentful of the woman who had tracked dirt not once but twice through her section of the floor was an understatement. She was jealous. Jealous that the woman was now sitting in the changing queue. The best seats in the house. She’d be out of her diaper and she looked like she’d used it well enough to make the trip worth it. Did it suck to be over there, with the other women in the changing queue? Yup, always did. Did it smell bad to be over there? No doubt. It never smelled good when you sat down in a chair next to multiple other grown women in soiled diapers. Was it fun to be stripped while a guard draws wipes through your ass? Nope. Never was and never would be. But at least the full diaper would be gone, and that was something that the woman with the muddy feet could say that Lily couldn’t. Though it wouldn’t be long until a guard took her there either. Hopefully. Although you could always guarantee that at some point, for even the slightest thing, a guard might cell you and write you up, you simultaneously couldn’t guarantee that a guard would actually take you to the changing area. Whether or not a guard took an inmate to one of the changing stations around the block had nothing to do with what was in their diaper. Everyone was on a schedule, more or less. Even a quiet, boring, and ordered place like Stenton prison could experience enough chaos such that any schedule could become wildly unpredictable. When it came to changing, guards had a plan for the day, one they didn’t share, often not even with each other. All of them, though, agreed that the diapers were there for punishment, and that if a little chaos resulted in discomfort for the inmates of Stenton, then chaos was working as intended. There was no legal requirement that the part of Lily’s sentence that enumerated ‘three diaper changes a day’ had to be religiously followed. There was no independent committee that interviewed prisoners to make sure they were getting the appropriate amount of diaper changes a day, according to what their judge had ordered. Nobody cared, for one, and nowhere in Lily’s sentence did it say she had a right to any amount. It only said: In addition; Lily is to be diapered for the entirety of her incarceration. She will be permitted no more than three diaper changes in a calendar-day during the duration of her custody. This aspect of Lily’s punishment will begin with the issuance of this sentence. Indeed, she hadn’t. She’d lost track of the days long ago, but she knew without a doubt that she’d got no more than three diaper changes a day. The average was undoubtedly lower. There were days when she only got two. There had been some sticky, hot, itchy, mushy, smelly, sleepless days where she’d only got one. Three was just the ceiling. There were no four-change days in her memory to match any of the under-three days. The only thing keeping her at three at all was the guards, for following the rules was part of their nature. Lily’s lawyer had prepared her for sentencing, way back when. “They’ll probably give you two. We’re fighting for three.” “Why not four?” Lily said. Technically, five changes was a possible limit, but she knew enough to not hope for that. The lawyer shook her head. Apparently, Lily’s lawyer knew enough to not hope for four either. Lily was already convicted by that time, already in orange, already diapered. There had been a thick diaper waiting for her in the side chamber where they took her after they dismissed the jurors that had decided to convict her. She’d remembered holding it together in court but bursting into tears as soon as that huge white diaper came into view. Her bowels churned and her feet felt like lead in the bright concrete warren beside the courtroom. Her hands had been cuffed in front of her, and two guards on either side were holding her by her biceps. Their guidance was firm as they took her, almost limp, to the table. They took off her cuffs and stripped her… Her last use of the toilet had been so unceremonious. A rushed evacuation before it was time to listen to the prosecution put the cherry on top of Lily’s public evisceration. A few months later, with her jury long gone and presumably eating ice cream and tanning on the fine Shamurian beaches, her lawyer shook her head. “No, four would anger the judge,” she said. “Three is the best we get. We ask for four and we guarantee that the judge will give you two.” Lily understood negotiation well enough to agree with her lawyer’s logic. It was hard to sit there in the sentence proceedings (there were two appearances in court prior to her actual sentencing) and listen to her lawyer argue for three diaper changes a week. Especially since she was already wearing them in jail, between her conviction and her final sentencing. In jail, prior to sentencing, they gave her five changes, and that was already unbearable. Worse, she’d seen the path of many women whose trials had gone before hers. She’d seen them all try to adjust to four from five (most wound up getting four to five changes, but Lily was in for something more serious). All whined and begged and complained. “My client is sorry for what she did, she has expressed sincere guilt. This is her first mistake before the law, and she is going to vow that it never happens again.” It wouldn’t. It literally couldn’t. They’d made sure to take away Lily’s license to practice law as soon as they diapered her. “My client looks forward to her punishment,” her lawyer said. Lily remembered herself sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair for the first time not wearing a dress, but in the same kind of orange jumpsuit she wore today. She had tried to imagine that being true; that she was looking forward to it. Yes, I’m excited for what’s coming next. I woke up this morning in my jail cell in my diaper, and listened to the woman next to me in the van to the courthouse who told me that the smartest thing to do, if I could, was to shit myself as soon as I got off the van so I wouldn’t have to shit my diaper in court because they generally wouldn’t change me again until the whole day’s proceedings were done. I figured she was right, yet she was only half right. Piss and poop was in my diaper for an hour before they changed me to bring me out here. I just got my asswiped by a policewoman who thinks my buttcheeks need to be scrubbed like metal pan, and yes, I am looking forward to years and years more of this. “Lily understands that four changes a day is fairly prompt and she’s aware that her crimes are too serious for that, and she wouldn’t want her upcoming incarceration to be wasted on a punishment that isn’t severe enough.” Her lawyer spoke correctly, if inaccurately. No matter what, once convicted, it was best to prostrate yourself before the mighty righteous will of Shamurian society. Even if you plead ‘not guilty,’ you were supposed to be ecstatic and thankful that the good people of Shamuria had put you where you belonged. You didn’t have to believe it, but you had to say it. The prosecution argued for two changes a day. The prosecuting attorney, the winning attorney, was dressed impeccably and conducted herself with the same bright-eyed enthusiasm she had worn the entire way. She was young and Lily had overheard that her case was her first-ever as the lead attorney. The swagger she brought was contagious, and the jury had awarded her with a conviction. “Got the bitch!” The bitch was Lily. She was got. Lily picked at her hot wet diaper and took a break from mopping, resting the haft once again against her shoulder. She tried to recall the attorney’s name, but couldn’t. She must have been no older than twenty three at the time. Long straight blond hair, always wore a skirt to the knee and leggings. Designer jackets, glasses. More importantly, she had perfect pitch. She sang a lullaby to the jury in a manner Lily could only dream of. Her voice rose and fell as she unveiled fact after fact, damning Lily with every note. Two hours into the first witness hearing, and Lily realized she had worse odds than a lobster hovering above boiling water. She asked questions and left them unanswered, leaving the jury to contemplate Lily’s criminality on their own. She rarely pushed the line and the judge rarely had to scold her, whereas Lily’s lawyer had to fight tooth and nail for every edge. This woman doesn’t need a law degree, the young prosecutor had said during her closing statements. She needs diapers. And you’ve got a chance to put her in them for a long time. It took just two hours of deliberations, which is barely more than the time it takes for a jury to retreat into the decision room, have a snack, and run through the list of things they have to do. Fresh off cold-cut sandwiches and soda, the jury took advantage of their chance, and a diaper had been laid out for her in the processing room. Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! A win for Shamuria and humanity! Months later, when the number three came down from the mouth of the judge, the lawyer tried to be cheerful for Lily. It was as if to say, an average of eight hours in your piss and shit between changes isn’t so bad. Imagine if it was twelve! Yeah, it could have been six. It could have been less than five hours on average. But eight isn’t so bad. You’ll be fine. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Yeah, you’ll have to sit in it for a while longer than you do now, but those two extra changes of five a day don’t amount to that much. It was the only thing that Lily could be cheerful at throughout the whole trial. Lily watched as a tall, slender woman exited a cell in the section she was assigned to clean. Her name was Lindsey, and like Lily and the other woman, she too was dressed in orange with an obvious diaper underneath. She stepped out onto the newly mopped floor and looked both ways, as if addressing a street that she was about to cross. In doing so, she made note of the guard, who had returned to his post on the catwalk. She looked at Lily too, and gave Lily a long, forlorn look until Lily turned away and pretended to be busy. Lily continued mopping and made a deliberate effort to not pay attention to the woman. Lindsey was a newer inmate, here for maybe three months at most, and was a four-changer. It was weird, how quickly you learned to remember how often someone got their diapers changed. But it mattered because it directly affected how pleasant they were to be around. Lily knew a few more things about Lindsey though, as she was one of the more famous residents of cellblock A. A television actress, Lindsey received a two year sentence for bribing an admissions office with cash to help get her daughter into an elite Shamurian university. Rumor was that wouldn’t be the end of it, as some of the other inmates claimed to have seen her get loaded back on the ferry, which either meant you were being freed or you were going back to court. In Lindsey’s case, it couldn’t be the former; she hadn’t been in Stenton long enough and judges never, ever, reduced sentences. Lily hadn’t seen her go, and hadn’t heard any concrete evidence of such happenings. But she did know that no matter what, whether you’re a five-changer or a one-changer, the only toilets in the building are located behind the huge blast doors for the guards. This wasn’t a guess. Inmates who had the misfortune to be taken through the doors reported that on the other side were a pair of men’s and women’s bathrooms, just for guards. Not really a big surprise, Lily saw no need to take her own trip through the doors to find out. One was never in a state of freedom when going through those. Just so, by standing in the middle of the hall, Lindsey had already internalized the dominant code of ethics among inmates at Stenton. You have to shit, so shit responsibly. Shitting at or after lockdown was a recipe for drama, as was doing it at mealtime. You tried to avoid doing it in your cell at all, unless you had a good reason. That rule was more up in the air, as sometimes avoiding a dirty diaper in the cell was a bit much to ask of one-changers. Everyone violated it at one point or another, sometimes simply because a lockdown could happen in the middle of the day. Lily had once been sitting in the changing area, one inmate away from getting her dirty diaper changed, when the alarm bell rang. She had to race back to her cell, her diaper still engorged and disgusting. That lockdown had lasted over two hours and her cellmate had to suffer through it with her. There were lots of reasons that could happen, some more forgivable than others. The rule was that you tried to avoid it. Lily saw out of the corner of her eye that Lindsey was still doing her business. It would seem odd to do it so blatantly, but it made perfect sense. She wanted to do it out of her cell, in a place where nobody would be surprised by her. Now and then that backfired, and a rowdy prisoner might point and laugh at a woman trying to be as obvious as possible so others could avoid her. Nobody wanted to come around a corner just to bump into a grown woman taking a dump in her pants. You learned to appreciate blatant evacuation as a global favor, as humiliating as it was. The most important thing, which Lindsey knew already, was to do it so the guards would notice it. Being obvious was great, yet being heckled drew even more attention, no matter how much it made you want to die. That was another part of it. The surest way to ensure that the guards don’t change a diaper is to ask them to change it. The surest way to sit in poop for the rest of the day was to see yourself to the changing queue on your own. As dirty as Lindsey was making her diaper, she wouldn’t be changed out of it until a guard decided it was time for her to sit in the chairs. Finally, Lindsey finished loading her diaper. She stretched, checked again to see if Lily was watching her, and then looked up once again at the guard. The guard, who had surely seen everything, didn’t react. Lindsey didn’t hide her dismay, and rolled her neck dramatically and sucked on her teeth. There was nothing to do, though. She fixed her uniform, pulling it out where it had gotten too snug around her crotch. She sniffed her hands. Then, pooped diaper and all, Lindsey walked gingerly towards the center of the cellblock, out of Lily’s area to clean. Lily’s chore continued. A rectangle that is fifteen cell blocks long is large, but not large enough to occupy her and her mop for an hour. To use up more time, she offered to mop the cells of inmates in that area. She didn’t go in any that were empty. Most waved her off or pretended not to hear her at her door. Some she avoided because she already knew the answer of the occupant inside. Some were asleep. But a few stepped out of their cells so she could clean the small floor that they nominally called their own. One of those women was Kimmi. Lily came across her, mop and bucket in hand, while she was kneeling on her pillow, which was placed on the floor. She was bent over a deck of cards that she had splayed out on her cot. The international card game of prisons…even diaper prisons: solitaire. “Yeah sure, though it’s the air that’s dirty,” she said. Kimmi laughed and hauled herself up. She pushed past Lily, and she crinkled as she went. Lily’s nose rankled, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. “Don’t worry,” Kimmi said. “The bitch is on the dock.” Lily took this to refer to Kimmi’s cellmate, Rita. She didn’t need any reference to know what Kimmi meant by the dock. “Hope it hurts,” Lily said. Kimmi laughed again and nodded in agreement. Kimmi stood by as Lily mopped. The cells weren’t big enough for it to take too long, but Lily took her time. Why not take her time? Kimmi talked to her as she cleaned, despite the rule forbidding inmate job-conversation going both ways. Despite her soiled diaper, Kimmi had bubbling energy inside her, and she seemed to hum to a rhythm whenever she was silent. “I hear you got a whole hell coming to you,” Kimmi said, bobbing her head. Lily wasn’t surprised the word had already gotten to Kimmi. You’ll be fine. Just fine. A few docks is better than a lot. Four docks in a row is not a lot. Argue and you’ll get five, so shut up. “It won’t be so bad,” she said. “They going to break you up?” Lily hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know,” she said. “That’d be a bummer. Luckiest thing in this whole place finally coming to an end. You two have been bumping it forever.” Kimmi said. Then she opened her arms to envelope some of the bars that formed the open wall of her cell. “Come to mine,” she said. The notion that Lily had a choice of what cell the guards put her in made them both laugh. The comment had more meaning than a simple joke, but for now Lily preferred to treat Kimmi’s absurdity as simply that. “Come on. I only stink up the room to get back at Rita. You should hear her! It doesn’t stop at lights-out.” “I can imagine.” “She’ll be writing a whole slam book on me, you can be sure of it. She’s going to make a series about her awful cellmate.” Kimmi laughed again. “I can’t wait to read it.” Lily bent low to mop under Rita’s cot. Part of her wanted to rung the sodden head of her mop onto Rita’s bed. To leave a dirty and soapy mess so that Rita had nowhere to rest on her way back from the dock. But she thought better of it. She was in deep enough trouble as it was. “So, what do you think about rooming with me?” Kimmi asked, again. “I’m still rooming with Marji.” “Yeah but not for long.” “We'll still be together.” “Really?” Kimmi said. She narrowed her eyes as the true thrust of the conversation was laid bare. “They’ll be watching you.” Kimmy leaned against the bars and stared at Lily. Lily became hyper aware of her own contours under her orange jumpsuit. She’d never thought she’d be sexy again, though this concern didn’t arise until weeks after actually being put in diapers. In retrospect, it would have been wise to get some action when they still let her wear panties. One of her greatest regrets. There had been more important worries back then, though as a lawyer, she should have foreseen where it would all end up. Now her pussy didn’t know or had forgotten that she was in prison. Her pussy was the one that made her look forward to diaper changes not just so she could get out of the diaper she was wearing, but so that she could see the bodies of the other women without their jumpsuits and their own thick diapers. It could be a gruesome sight, at times, but you could always close your eyes for the beginning and just look when the woman’s bottom was cleaner. Most diapers weren’t like that anyway. It was a weird, discordant feeling, to be aroused in a place like a changing area. But it made a sick, twisted sense; her pussy had adapted to the situation. It’d taken much longer for her to realize that other inmates had accepted the same realities, that they’d learned to ignore the thickness of her ass and crotch, and the garish glare of perpetual orange. Her thighs and ass, covered in a diaper that she had been wearing since the morning and forced to move in and pump in as she sweated in her full length suit, hadn’t gotten used to it, like her pussy had. She wanted a change badly, which, conveniently, was what her pussy wanted too. Somedays, she wished she could be more like Kimmi. Kimmi was one of those rare few in Stenton who seemed to enjoy her time behind bars. Or at least she was able to tolerate it effortlessly. She’d been cheery from the getgo, quick to joke, quick to to laugh, and quick to stop taking pee and poop so seriously. How could she care what was in her pants? She was a one-changer. The answer to what was in her pants was almost never good. She’d openly estimated that she maybe spent less than an hour a day without piss in her diaper. She even didn’t care to admit to the other women that she was wetting the bed ‘involuntarily’ and that she was ‘definitely wetter when she woke up than when she went to bed.’ Even more, she’d turned a whole breakfast table red with embarrassment when she blurted that ‘masturbation felt better when the front was thick with pee because it gave you firm something to rub against.’ Kimmi could be a hoot around the dock, too. If she was on the benches, watching woman after woman get spanked and paddled on the dock, she’d call and cheer. Kimmi never did it maliciously (as some might be for Rita right now), but always in a way that, if it were you getting spanked, it made you feel better. Lily hated, most of all, that the pillories and the dock were in the very center of the block, but Kimmi made it bearable, provided she was there. Oh come on, that one was a little low! Swing batter-batter swing! Come-on tootsie keep that back straight we gotta see that roast beef. Yes girl! Lily likes it doggie doesn’t she? She’s doing a great job! Show us what you’ve been hiding in those diapers hun! Sometimes she would get other inmates singing so that the sounds of the smacking died away, even to the ears of the woman getting hit. Nobody ever minded the raucous atmosphere she could create, save the guards and the occasional women who still thought they could sleep through their sentence. The guards sometimes felt that Kimmi’s irreverence took away from the essentially punitive exercise, and they would cell her for the rest of the day. That only made the average inmate appreciate Kimmi more. Except for the Ritas of the world, of course. The inmate cheers were markedly different when it was Rita’s bottom up on the platform called the dock. The mood was a bit more in line with what the guards intended when Rita got spanked. So it was fine to be around Kimmi, even when Kimmi smelled like shit. She was the type of inmate that could make you forget there was a bag of piss around your waist and that it’d been years since you’d had a private moment of free access to your own vagina. Moreover, she was the type of gay that wasn’t a gayness of reluctance. Kimmi guessed that up to half of the women in the prison, at least, were willing, but very few were voracious about it. Like Lily, they’d sexualized what was available. The straighter girls relished those few moments on changing tables with male guards, doing everything they could to repress their extreme embarrassment and the awareness that the guard who was seeing her excrement couldn’t possibly find her sexy. They’d whisper to each other about the way he wiped. He lingered. He palmed my butt. Nobody ever had the heart to remind the women of what they already knew themselves. Well, Rita did, and gave everyone yet another reason to hate her. It mattered greatly to the straights what fantasy they could roll their eyes back into when the stiff and pissy diaper on their crotch was pressed into their clit by another female inmate. If they could believe that they were back on that table with strapping officer Sipho, if they could believe that the mouth kissing their breasts through their orange jumpsuit featured his stubbly lips, they could cum. Lily never disabused a straight woman of that fantasy. She knew best to melt away, to simply appreciate the time between her legs, even if she wasn’t thinking about Lily and there was nothing down there but diapers and urine to smell. When their half-assed efforts to help Lily cum in return brought them both to boredom, Lily was fine to leave. The memory and imagination of the straight woman’s genitals beneath all those layers and the memory of her convulsing body, were vivid enough for Lily to pleasure herself alone in her cot. But Kimmi meant it. Kimmi reciprocated. Kimmy sought it out and saw her as more than an elaborate vibrator which she could place between her legs while she fantasized about what lay behind the zipper of officer Sipho. Kimmi didn’t become ashamed and refuse to talk to Lily for weeks after one shared moment. She would be eager again and again until the guards hauled them both on the dock. And then some. “I think we’ll still be together,” Lily said. “We haven’t talked about it.” “What’s she doing?” “I don’t know. Probably celled,” she said. Marji had been in an equally bad mood since the guards had caught them on top of eachother yesterday. Knowing Marji, she’d lashed out and was sitting on her cot with a chain around her ankle. “Atta girl,” Kimmi said. “I’m not trying to steal her girl, you know,” Kimmi said. At this point, Lily was only pretending to mop. “No. I couldn’t imagine a lady with a diaper like yours would attempt to flirt with a catch like me,” Lily said. Kimmi laughed again. “Hey. If I waited to be clean to make my moves, my cunt would close up. You gotta know what you’re working with.” With this, Kimmi made a shimmy and showed her bottom to Lily, pressing it against the bars. It was a grotesque thing to do considering what Kimmi’s diaper had inside it, but Kimmi never shied away from the absurd. It was refreshing, even when it made Lily recoil in mock disgust. “Oh stop it,” she said. “Hey, your hour is almost up, by the way,” Kimmie said. She motioned to the clock that was high up on the wall at one end of the block. “You on one or two changes today.” “I’ve not been changed since just after breakfast.” And didn’t she know it. Her diaper was soaked, and she’d been holding number two since then. A guard had felt her ass right after the end-of-breakfast bell, before her meal had got things moving. She’d discretely pushed as he felt her, but all she managed to do was fart into his hand. It wasn’t atypical timing for a first change, and as a three changer she could expect to get changed in the two or so hours after breakfast. She preferred on the later end of that range, so she could get her movement going and so her first change of the day could be a dirty one. It didn’t always work out that way. “When they let you out, let’s get changed together,” Kimmi said. She didn’t mention let’s try to get changed together. Sometimes, it was nice to pretend that you had agency. Surprisingly, she was dead right. Lily’s diaperchange was all but assured after her chore was done. It was more than an hour after lunch now, and the guards went looking for the threes before and after lunch. Lily was probably one of the last threes to still be wearing her post-breakfast diaper, excluding those who’d been downgraded to twos for discipline. It sure felt like it. The ideal day, for Lily, was a late post-breakfast change, a late post-lunch change, and then a post-dinner change, so that she was fresh for lockdown. She rarely got all three in a day, but much of her excess effort was spent trying to orchestrate it. What else was there to do? She’d hide from guards before meals and find them after, when she was fuller. The goal was always to spend as little time as possible in full and dirty diapers. She doesn’t need a law degree, she needs diapers. She wondered if her jury thought of that when they considered her guilt. Yes, this woman needs her priorities narrowed down to nothing but a toddler’s mindset. Where to pee and poop most effectively. That’s where this grown woman, who once argued cases before a court, who survived three years of law school, who was about to make partner at just twenty-eight, belonged. That’s what her mind was really good for. Good mopping and good fecal logistics. “You just want to see me naked.” Kimmi craned her head. “It’s officer Billie at the table,” she said. “At least at the close one.” Lily stepped out of the cell with her bucket and mop and looked down the hall. She still knew most of the women sitting in the chairs there. Lindsey was there. The woman who’d tracked mud through her section was there too. She was the one on the table, but from their angle they could only see her large tits bouncing about as the officer Billie raised and lowered her legs. Way beyond, she could see the blast doors to the guard quarters. One of the doors creaked open, and a guard came through it and into the cellblock. The door shut lazily behind them, but the hollow slam reverberated all the way down to Kimmi’s cell. “Damn,” Lily said, looking at officer Billie. Kimmi allowed herself to be distracted by the scene for a few moments. For once, Lily knew Kimmi wasn’t looking at the bare-chested woman. She turned back to Lily. “Well get it done and stick together. You got five minutes so nows your time,” she said. She was very likely right. Five minutes left in her hour (which was almost all the time she needed to actually complete the job allotted for an hour), meant she should get to business. She was only relieved when a guard ordered her to bring her bucket and mop to the closet. Generally, a diapercheck would come after that. Lily had planned all along to poop right at the end of her hour. Her early change notwithstanding, and the squicky itchiness she felt right now (which was par for the course after the prosecution nailed her many years ago), today was fixing to be an efficient, reasonable day. The punishments for playing with Marji would not come until tomorrow. “Alright,” Lily said, and she headed out of the cell toward the center of the block, where Lindsey had pooped earlier. It also occurred to her that she had spent conspicuously long in Kimmi’s cell, and she was definitely pushing discipline if the guard on the catwalk was paying attention. Kimmi put a hand on her shoulder, though. Lily stopped, and watched where Kimmi pointed. “Do it on Rita’s bed,” she said. Lily turned. “Noo,” she said. “That’s a little much.” “Come on. She won’t notice it over everything else,” Kimmi said, waiving to herself. “Just give her a nice extra flavor to her pillow. You know she deserves it.” Kimmi’s suggestion was extreme. It represented a side to Kimmi that Lily had rarely seen. A ferocity and vengefulness that did not coincide with her general cheerfulness. But it still made sense to Lily. Loyalty and camaraderie were the root of Kimmi’s character. It was her and her girls against the bullshit. Rita wasn’t one of them. Rita with her horn-rimmed glasses, who paid the commissary extra to get her hair products, who threatened everyone with a salacious expose, who bragged that when she was out, the world would welcome her eagerly. Many of inmates, despite their lofty origins, knew that nothing waited for them but diapered slavery and middle-class employment. And even the best outcomes were still many, many years down the road. She’d even written about Lily. Before Rita had found trouble with the law, Rita made headlines finding out everything she could about other wealthy men and women who’d fallen out of favor with Shamurian society. Case Closed! Corrupt lawyer weeps and begs like a helpless lamb as she realizes the law is no longer on her side. “She really squirmed when we got her out of court. They’re all very emotional so we understand. But they have to learn quickly that if they fight us, we’ll change them less. We’ll keep that diaper on ice until the morning and she’ll understand what she’s in for.” It’d all been true. Rita had gotten to one of those guards and got the quote. Even the story about sitting in that first diaper until the following morning was true. At first, Rita’s own fall from grace was celebrated in Stenton. Then they met her, and realized nothing could be worse than having to hear her talk. Rita was the bullshit. All of this is to say that yes, Lily leaned her mop against the bars, kicked off her slippers, and squatted right on Rita’s pillow. Here’s what happens when you’re not on our side but you’re inside, you cunt. It was relaxing and delightful, truly. One of the best bowel movements she’d ever had in her entire time at Stenton. A massive relief. Her stomach shrunk an inch in circumference. Officer Billie at the table waiting to deal with it. The rest of the day to relax and play cards and only have to worry about how fast she was pissing herself. Her poop was huge and firm and as disgusting as ever, but she wouldn’t have to be in it long. “What the fuck!” came a voice. Lily hadn’t realized she’d opened her eyes. “Fuck you,” Kimmi said. Her voice wavered though, and Kimmi seemed to shrink away from the new person standing in the door between the bars of her cell. Lily gasped and stumbled off of Rita’s bed. “I said the fuck are you doing?” Rita asked, stepping into the room. She was blonde and freckly, and she kept her hair wavy with the product she bought. “Nothing,” Lily said. “Nothing?” Rita was shouting. Lily was anxious to leave. A guard who arrived had a lot of pretext in the scene that was unfolding. “You were shitting on my pillow.” “No she wasn’t,” Kimmi said. Rita spun and pointed a finger at Kimmi. Rita’s cheeks were flush, and her eyes were still watery from the spanking she’d taken on the dock. She didn’t deserve any sympathy, but it was hard to imagine her being anything but angry at what she’d returned to. “It was your idea,” she said. “It wasn’t my idea because nothing happened!” Kimmi shouted. Lily was trying to step between the two, to get her bucket and leave. Kimmi could handle herself. If a guard came now to see this, she was sure to be disciplined. Getting into a fight in a cell when she was supposed to be mopping was way out of line. Rita’s bone to pick was clearly with Kimmi, despite the fact that it had been Lily’s action that had enraged her. Lily pushed past them, grabbed her bucket and mop, and exited the cell. Her diaper was incredibly full of piss and poop, and it squished into her as she walked. She was sweating all over now too, and she could feel the oil of her hair on the back of her neck, the moisture down the sides of her hot jumpsuit, and of course, all of the heat generated by the mess she’d made in her diaper. She wanted out of there, to continue making wet circles on the ground until some guard took her to be changed by officer Billie. “Stop! Hands on the bars!” Lily’s heart sank. She propped her mop in the bucket and did as she was told. She was outside the cell, and she knew the position. Palms open, hands up above the head, feet spread, chest against the bars. She didn’t even see the guard who had ordered her against the bars, but she could hear his boots and that his voice was male. She could also hear that he wasn’t messing around. “You two, against the wall, now!” Kimmi and Rita immediately stopped talking and assumed the same position, but against the wall at the back of their cell. Lily was anxious for what came next. She heard the guard walking, his boots creaking and the chains and metal hanging from his belt loops were jingling like he was Santa Claus. “What happened?” came another guard’s voice. This one was female. “Fight.” “Physical?” “No.” “About what?” Rita, like an idiot, decided to speak. “They shit on my pillow!” “Quiet!” The guards barked at the same time. “Head against the wall,” the female guard said. Lily could see that Rita’s head was against the wall, but the guard continued. “Do you hear me?” “Yes ma’am!” Rita said. “You talk again, I’ll bring you right back to the dock, you hear me?” “Yes ma’am!” “You want that to happen?” “No ma’am!” Lily could hear the smugness in the voice of the female guard. They enjoyed doing that to inmates. It could go on for minutes. Rita surely hated it, Rita would be scratching a hole through the concrete in rage right about now. Lily couldn’t enjoy the schadenfreude, though. Her’s was coming. The guards then talked to themselves. They were so quiet that Lily couldn’t even hear them. Finally, the male guard addressed her. “You, out here,” he said. “Yes sir.” “What happened just now?” Lily gulped. “I was offering to clean cells because I had mopped the main floor, sir,” she said. “I was cleaning this one,” she said. “You were cleaning this one?” “Yes sir.” “Whose cell is this?” “This is their cell, sir,” she said. She realized that this was vague, so she motioned with her head inwards, towards the two women. “Have you defecated in your diaper?” this time the female guard asked. “Yes ma’am.” “When did you defecate in your diaper?” “A while ago ma’am, while I was doing my job, ma’am.” “When’s your job up?” the female guard said. Lily knew this answer could damn her. “Not sure. It might be soon, I might have had another hour. I’m not sure if I’ve been given two hours or not, Ma’am.” The male guard spoke to the female one. “She’s up on her chore now, I was about to come get her.” They were quiet for a moment. Lily wondered if they were still talking. The guards knew the schedules and goals of their inmates as well as the inmates. The guards knew that inmates would try to time their messing for when they were most likely to be changed. This meant that Lily’s claim to have messed herself a while ago was doubtful to them, and if Lily was lying about that, then Lily was in all likelihood the guilty party. Rita was then asked to give them a play-by-play. Contrary to her signature journalistic flourish, Rita was not unlike the blonde prosecutor that had sent Lily here in the first place. Another blonde bitch getting the better of me. Rita knew to tell her story politely, soberly, and with plenty of sir’s and ma’ams so as to be as deferential as possible. She told everything she could. She said I think I saw and I think that to make herself seem more impartial. She might have been screaming at Lily and Kimmi just moments before, but now she ‘wasn’t quite sure what she saw.’ When Rita was done, the pair of guards returned their attention to Lily. “What do you have to say?” “I don’t know sir.” “Is she right?” “I don’t know sir, I’m not sure what she said, sir.” “She said she saw you on her bed, squatting on her pillow.” “No sir.” “No sir what?” “I didn’t do that, ma’am.” “Then what were you doing in that cell?” “Mopping ma’am.” “For ten minutes?” They were probably already going to side with Rita for everything, so there were was no use lying further. Lily felt her legs tremble. She tried to maintain her composure. Despite all of the wetness in her jumpsuit, and the piss in her diaper, Lily’s throat was dry.“Yes ma’am.” “Were you talking with another inmate while on your job?” Answering truthfully also got Kimmi in trouble, but she knew that Kimmi knew that ship had sailed. “Yes ma’am.” Lily bit her lip and rested her head against the bars. The day had been going so well… This woman doesn’t need a law degree. She needs diapers. Send her where she belongs. They’d probably cell her in her dirty diaper until dinner. She was probably looking at a two-change day. They might add an extra visit to the dock next week too. Kimmi would get something similar. “Did you lie to us earlier? Did you defecate yourself on that inmates pillow? Be honest now, don’t make us have to ask this stupid question a million times.” And then, for reasons Lily didn’t quite understand, she started crying. The tears came out of nowhere, as if they were as incontinent as Kimmi was when she was asleep. She convulsed and her stomach sucked in like she was experiencing the mother of all hiccups. She could see the jury, the prosecutor with the long blonde hair, the lawyer trying to be as nice as possible when she was really tying to say: “You’re fucked beyond belief.” She could feel the dock, which was coming for her ass tomorrow. She could feel the good day she had slipping away. Another good day lost in a sea of lost days, spent mopping and plotting out when she peed and pooped like it was life or death. “Yes,” she finally said, not knowing why she said it, and wishing she hadn’t. “Yes ma’am?” the guard asked. Her voice was a lot closer. Lily was trained well enough to not move her head. “Yes ma’am,” she said. Snot choked her voice. She thought about being in this same position, against a wall, side by side with Marji. Just yesterday. Different officers, different violations, different cells. Same awful outcome. “You defecated on her pillow?” “Yes ma’am!” she said. Tears were getting into her mouth and sticking her hair to her cheeks. Was she one of the bad ladies now, one of the idiots who couldn’t avoid the dock? “You lied to us, why?” “Because I didn’t want to get in trouble,” Lily said. She felt like such a child saying that. That was the guard’s whole point. “Ma’am.” She wanted to wipe her eyes, but she knew she had to keep her hands on the bars. “You happy you’re in trouble now though?” Always, always, guards asked questions like that. Just like in court. Lily is eager to get this next phase of her life underway, so that she can learn from her mistakes. Yes, I’m looking forward to my docking. I love my diapers. I love them so much because they remind me of who I am. “Yes ma’am.” “Say it!” “I’m happy I’m in trouble, ma’am,” she said. She broke down again, and coughed. She could hear the guard stand up. She expected one of them to grab her arm and pull her, and her full diaper, back to her cell for the rest of the day. But that isn’t what happened. Not exactly. Instead, the two guards talked quietly for the final time. “Take her through the doors,” the female guard said.

Team RWBY and Nora Valkyrie were looking around Anima after the defeat of Salem. Nora's boyfriend, Lie Ren was away on a mission, and the group's other friend, Jaune Arc, was visiting his sister's family in Argus. As such, the five Huntresses were looking around an old, abandoned village for bandit activity. "What's that big building up ahead?" Ruby asked. The girls looked and saw a large warehouse that looked surprisingly well kept, considering the rest of the village. The windows were boarded up, and a sign nearby read, Reformatory Nursery. "Uh..." Yang said in a confused voice. "What's that?" "I think I heard someone talking about it at a dinner party when I was little." Weiss explained. "It was an attempt to quell the crime in Mistral by making the inmates as helpless as babies." "What happened?" Blake asked, nervously. "It worked too well, and the people who had volunteered to test the place had become mentally... Damaged." Weiss explained. "As such, the whole project was abandoned." "Let's look inside!" Ruby said eagerly. "Ruby, are you crazy?!" Weiss shouted. "We could get seriously hurt!" "We're just going to look around." Ruby said calmly. The five Huntresses headed in, much to Weiss' annoyance. The warehouse was pitch black when they entered it. "I'll look for a light." Nora said as she headed off. Weiss rolled her eyes at this, ready to give her friends the biggest "I told you so" she could if and when something went wrong. Nora found her way to an office as she searched for a light. Her hand eventually hit a large button as the lights came on, and so apparently did everything else in the factory. She looked and saw a sign over the button that read, "EVERYTHING ON". "Huh." Nora said. Back at the entrance, Team RWBY found themselves staring at a room with conveyor belts crisscrossing the area. Just then, mechanical arms grabbed the four and held them up. "Excuse me!" Weiss shouted. "Do you know who we are?!" "No file detected." A feminine computer voice said. "Awaiting warden's assessment." Nora looked around and saw a panel with faded lettering and one switch with numbers on it. Worried for her friends, she set the switch to "one". She hoped that it would at least minimize the damage. "Prisoners to be treated as one-year-olds for one month." The computer said. "Nora!" Weiss yelled. "I'm sorry!" Nora shouted back. "I can't read anything on this panel!" Team RWBY was then placed on the middle belt for processing. Yang was brought forward first, held in place by the arms. A red light then scanned Yang's face, making her blink. "Name?" The computer asked. "My name is Yang!" Yang shouted angrily. "And I am not a baby!!" "File created for Baby Prisoner Yang." The computer stated as a screen popped up with technicolor swirls on it that Yang couldn't help looking at. "When you hear the word, Goldielocks, you will return to as you are now." "Goldielocks." Yang said in a dazed voice as she was let go. Yang then blinked and looked around. As Yang continued forward, her arms were grabbed by a pair of mechanical arms while another pair pulled off her boots, pants, and panties. The arms then pulled off her jacket and tube top. "Let go of me, you perv!" Yang shouted, sitting there in nothing but her bra. Just then, a yellow pacifier was shoved into her mouth. At the tip was a milky substance she accidentally took a suck of. Liking the taste, she continued drinking, unaware that it was a muscle relaxant that would leave her little better than an adult baby by the time she was off the belt. Blake, meanwhile, was being scanned next. "Name?" The computer asked. "Blake." Blake sighed. If Yang couldn't break free, none of them could. "File created for Baby Prisoner Blake." The computer stated as the swirling screen came down, with Blake as unable to look away as Yang. "When you hear the word, Belle, you will return to as you are now." "Belle." Blake repeated in the same dazed voice as Yang. She was then moved forward as Blake looked ahead to see what she was in for next. Yang was then brought to an area where the arms forced her onto all fours, and a baby thermometer was brought out. "Hey," Yang shouted as her pacifier fell out of her mouth. "Wait a minute!" The arms quickly put the pacifier back in and held it there. The thermometer was then gently pushed into her rectum before being pulled out. A ding was then sounded. "Baby Prisoner Yang has slight fever." The computer said. "Administrating medicine." Yang's pacifier was then pulled out before a spoon full of cough syrup was shoved into her mouth. Yang gagged as her pacifier was put back in, and she sucked on it hard to get the taste of the syrup off her mouth. Blake was brought to the next area as mechanical arms held onto her wrists, and Blake was stripped naked, save for her bra. "Uh," Blake began. "Did you have to take my shirt off too?" At that, the arms put a pacifier in Blake's mouth. Tasting the milk inside, Blake immediately began sucking it down as she moved down the belt. Weiss was then scanned by the light. "Name?" The computer asked. "Weiss Schnee!" Weiss shouted angrily. "I demand you let me and my friends go! We have committed no crime!" "File created for Baby Prisoner Weiss. " The computer stated as the swirling screen came down. As with her friends, Weiss was unable to look away. "When you hear the phrase, Snow White, you will return to as you are now." "Snow White." The dazed Weiss said before the belt continued on, and Weiss glared angrily at Ruby. Yang had just arrived at the next station where several soapy loofahs cleaned every inch of her, making her shriek and moan from behind her pacifier. By the time it was over, and Yang continued forward, her skin was bright pink, and when she brushed her hand against her arm, it felt as smooth as a baby's. Blake, meanwhile, was getting her temperature taken, and she groaned nervously as the thermometer was removed from her butt. "Baby Prisoner Blake is healthy." The computer said as Blake was moved forward. Weiss, meanwhile, was struggling against the arms as she was losing all of her clothes except her bra. "I beg your pardon!" Weiss shouted. "Give me back my clothes!" Instead of that, the arms shoved a pacifier into Weiss' mouth, and when she tried to spit it out, the arms held it in place as more arms moved Weiss' cheeks back and forth until she began sucking on the pacifier and drinking the milk inside. At last, Ruby was scanned by the light. "Name?" The computer asked. "Ruby!" Ruby called out, deciding she may as well go for it at this point. "File created for Baby Prisoner Ruby. " The computer stated as the swirling screen came down, and Ruby was almost immediately entranced. "When you hear the phrase, Red Riding Hood, you will return to as you are now." "Red Riding Hood." Ruby said in a dazed voice as she headed forward, mildly interested in what happened next. After being cleaned, Yang was moved to the next station where a mechanical arm rubbed baby oil all over Yang's privates. Yang sighed at the nice feeling before the belt continued on. Blake, meanwhile, was getting cleaned by the loofahs, and she groaned at their diligence. Once they were done, Blake lied on all fours like a tired cat. Further down the belt, Weiss was getting her temperature taken as she groaned angrily, gasping when the thermometer was pulled out. "Baby Prisoner Weiss is slightly cold." The computer said as the arms lifted Weiss up and put her down on an electric blanket, which she reluctantly accepted before continuing forward on the belt. Ruby had just been stripped of everything but her bra as the arms gave Ruby her pacifier, and she sucked on it, giggling. Yang continued forward to the next station where several powder puffs patted her butt and crotch with baby powder, making Yang sneeze once or twice. She was then moved forward. Blake was enjoying having her butt oiled, treating it like a relaxing message. She gasped, however, when baby oil was rubbed on her groin. Blake tried to get off the belt, but the arms held her down and gently stroked one of her cat ears, which immediately relaxed her while she was oiled up and sent forward. Weiss was getting cleaned by the loofahs, struggling with all of her might. To her horror, it seemed that Weiss was getting weaker. Weiss began kicking at the loofahs when an alarm rang. Weiss was moved onto her stomach while her butt was raised up. A paddle then came down and spanked Weiss until she began crying. "Let me out!!" Weiss wailed. "LET ME OUT!!!" The spanking ended, and Weiss' pacifier was put back in her mouth while her cleaning was finished, and she was moved forward. Ruby groaned as her temperature was taken, and she clenched her teeth on the nipple of her pacifier. "Baby Prisoner Ruby is healthy." The computer said as Ruby relaxed as she was sent forward. Next for Yang, she was picked up by the arms and laid on her back, with her butt touching a very thick cloth. The arms then folded the cloth around Yang's pelvis, and she realized that it was a giant cloth diaper. The arms then secured it with a safety pin. The arms then patted Yang's diapered crotch as she was moved forward. Blake, meanwhile, was getting her butt and crotch patted with talcum powder, making Blake sneeze like a cat. Once the powder puff was done, Blake continued down the belt. Weiss arrived at the oiling area and sighed at the baby oil being rubbed on her sore butt. For once, Weiss didn't resist and relaxed. However, she was unnerved to find that she couldn't stop herself from sucking on her pacifier. She continued down the belt, desperately trying to figure out how she could escape. Ruby giggled at the loofahs as they scrubbed her clean. Ruby laughed, having the time of her life. She couldn't understand why it took so long for Weiss and Yang to calm down and enjoy the ride. Ruby sighed as she was on her hands and knees being carried to the next station. Yang was moved to a station with a gallon of milk connected to a hose with a rubber nipple on the end. An arm comes down and takes out Yang's pacifier. "Hey!" Yang shouted. "That's my paci!" The arm then grabbed the hose and put the nipple in Yang's mouth. With no other choice, Yang drank the milk as she found herself enjoying it, even if she was drinking so much of it that she was getting a bit of a pot belly. Once the gallon was emptied. Yang was moved forward, groaning at her rumbling stomach. What Yang didn't know was that the milk was laced with laxatives that would virtually destroy her bladder and bowel control. Blake had just had her butt lowered into her new diaper as the arms folded it around her groin and secured it with a safety pin. She giggled at the soft feeling before she remembered the hypnotic message with a recall word. If the belt was finishing up, why would it have given a code word to turn them back to normal? This made Blake fret as she continued down the belt. Weiss was getting her butt and crotch patted with talcum powder, and she struggled and tried to get off the belt, shouting through her pacifier. Once the powdering was done, the arms held her down and gave her butt a few good smacks. Weiss whimpered sadly and stayed where she was as the belt rolled her forward. Ruby, meanwhile, giggled at her butt being oiled by the arms. She wondered what came after the belt, aside from the obvious. She couldn't wait to see! At Yang's next station, a robot maid picked Yang up and held her over its shoulder before patting Yang's lower back until she burped. Yang sighed with relief as she was sent forward. She was actually starting to like this place. Blake was brought to the feeding station where her pacifier was taken out. "Um," Blake asked nervously. "What awe you gonna do to us?" Blake barely had time to realize she was unable to pronounce her R's when the milk tube was shoved into her mouth. The moment the milk hit her tongue, she drank like there was no tomorrow. When she'd drunk the whole gallon, and got a pot belly out of it, the hose was pulled out of Blake's mouth, and she immediately had a tantrum. "I want mowe miwk!" Blake cried. "Mowe, mowe, mowe!!" Blake continued to cry while she was carried down the belt. She was eventually calmed down by the arms waving plastic keys in her face. Enraptured, Blake tried to bat at them. Weiss was getting her butt lowered into her new diaper as she continued to wiggle, being able to do little more at this point than kick her legs and wave her arms. Once Weiss' diaper was folded around her pelvis and pinned in place, Weiss couldn't help but cry while she was carried down the belt. Ruby, meanwhile, was giggling as the powder puffs patted her butt and crotch with baby powder. Ruby was then moved forward, happy that everyone was still safe and happy, as far as she knew. Yang arrived at another station where she was lifted into a sitting position, and a yellow baby t-shirt was put over her head. It had orange frills and barely reached the top of her diaper. Yang then had mittens put on her hands and booties put on her feet. Next, two earmuffs came from the sides and clamped onto the sides of Yang's head. Before she could ask about it, a new pacifier was put into her mouth. Just then, an electrical current traveled between the earmuffs and through Yang's brain as the overstimulated brain became very malable. "You are a baby." The computer said through the earmuffs. "A one-year-old baby." Yang began giggling like a baby through her pacifier as the earmuffs retracted, and a yellow baby bonnet with orange frills was put on her head. Blake had been picked up by the maid and patted on the back until she burped. At that, she spat up on the maid's shoulder before it wiped her mouth clean. Blake was then put back on the belt and headed off. Weiss was at the feeding area as she continued to struggle. Just then, her pacifier was finally removed. "Wet me out!" Weiss shouted, aware that she sounded like a fussy toddler. "I want out! Me and my fwiends awen't cwiminals!" However, the machine ignored her like always, and the hose was shoved into her mouth. Weiss was forced to gulp down the gallon of milk and was distressed at how bloated she was getting. Eventually, the milk stopped, and Weiss was sent forward, too full to struggle much anymore. Ruby had just been set on top of her diaper. She giggled as the arms folded it up and pinned it together. Ruby was then set forward, starting to feel hungry. Yang arrived at the end of the belt as she was dropped into a large, cushioned playpen. She giggled before standing up very shakily and going to a pair of yellow rattles. Blake, meanwhile, was being lifted into a sitting position as a white baby t-shirt with black frills was put on her, followed by black mittens and booties. Following that, the earmuffs came up, and Blake got a new pacifier put into her mouth. The electric current fried her brain as a new mental state was programmed into her. "You are a baby." The computer said through the earmuffs. "A one-year-old baby." Blake cooed as she was given a black baby bonnet. She laid on her back, continuing to coo and babble like a baby as she headed forward. Weiss was being picked up by the maid as she grumbled. "I'm not a baby." Weiss said meekly as the maid patted Weiss' back until she burped. Weiss was then set back on the belt, to weak and exhausted to do much else but cry as she was moved forward. Ruby arrived at the feeding station as her pacifier was taken out, and she saw the cylinder of milk. "Yay!" Ruby called out. "Miwk time!" Before Ruby could register how her voice sounded, the hose was put in Ruby's mouth, and she eagerly drank her gallon quicker than any of the others. In fact, when the gallon was finished, Ruby began to cry until an arm tickled her bloated stomach, and Ruby squeeled with delight before moving down the belt. At the end of the belt, Blake gently fell into the playpen and crawled to an alphabet book before she sat down and read it while Yang began shaking her rattles like maracas. Weiss had been sat up as a sky blue baby t-shirt with white frills was put on her. She then had blue mittens and booties put on her. The earmuffs then attached themselves to her head while she was given a new pacifier, and the electric current shot through. Thankfully, she had managed to muster enough strength to use her glyphs to protect her higher brain functions. "You are a baby." The computer said through the earmuffs. "A one-year-old baby." "Hmph!" Weiss scoffed. She may be stuck acting like a baby, but before long, she'd get her bodily functions back under control and turn this insane machine off. Ruby was being burped by the maid, and, once she was burped, she was set back down on the belt and sent on her way. At the end of the belt, Weiss was dropped down into a large playpen, the cushioned floor and her diaper breaking her fall. Weiss looked around and saw that Yang was bobbing up and down, shaking her rattles while Blake was reading a cardboard alphabet book. She folded her arms, upset at what had happened and scared of how the warehouse had effectively rendered the two complete babies. Ruby was being sat up and put in a black baby t-shirt with red frills. She was also put in red mittens and booties. Ruby giggled until the earmuffs came up. Before Ruby could ask about them, a new pacifier was put into her mouth. Then the electric current did its work, frying Ruby's brain just like with Yang and Blake. "You are a baby." The computer said through the earmuffs. "A one-year-old baby." Ruby suddenly began crying from behind her pacifier while the belt carried her forward. Ruby arrived at the end of the belt and dropped into the playpen, still crying until an arm came down and pulled out Ruby's pacifier and put a baby bottle full of milk into her mouth. Ruby held onto it while the arm was retracted, and she watched Yang dance. Weiss groaned at the sight. All of Team RWBY, including her, were reduced to giant babies at the mercy of a malfunctioning warehouse. To be continued...

Hi All, This is my first story in a long while. It's 11 chapters and about 14,500 words; I'm not sure if I'll be writing a 12th chapter or if I'm happy with where it is. I'll be posting a chapter a day for the next 10 or so days. I'll post the first two here tonight... I appreciate your support and your feedback; I hope you enjoy!!! Emsy Chapter 1 - FRESH Coleridge Towers wasn’t the most luxurious building in the City, but it certainly was luxurious. It had old-school charm—uniformed doormen and 24-hour concierge service—along with more modern amenities that befit its early 1960s construction, like a fitness center with an indoor pool and central air conditioning. And while East 54th and 2nd was not the most happening neighborhood or the coolest address, Abigail needed someplace safe and convenient to work. The tiny studio was relatively inexpensive, especially for something in midtown, and while it didn’t have a fancy view, Abigail was excited to have found something that barely fit in her budget. While the apartment fit in her budget, Abigail definitely did not fit in socially with the Coleridge Towers crowd. “Any packages for me, Mark?” she’d asked at the front desk on her third day in the building. The concierge seemed flustered. “Hi Abby, please give me a sec” he said quietly, turning his attention back to a middle-aged woman glaring at her. “As I was saying …” the woman continued. “MARK, come on, really, is there a package for me there or not?” Couldn’t this lady wait for just a second? “Before I was rudely interrupted,” the woman said, staring daggers at Abby. Abigail looked at the ground and gritted her teeth, determined not to show how frustrated she was to have to wait as the lady droned on and on. “There dear,” said the older woman finishing her business at the desk, “things tend to go better for little girls who wait their turn.” Abby blushed and bit back an insult, rolling her eyes dramatically and sighing. The woman seemed unaffected by her show of annoyance. Some days, Abby knew, that’s just what it was to be trans and tall and visible: some asshole was there to knock her down and she couldn’t stoop to their level. “Who was that witch?” Abby asked the concierge loudly as the older woman finally started to walk away. She hoped that the lady heard her, but the woman showed no signs of annoyance. Mark handed her the giant package that was waiting for her. “Evelyn Matson? I’d watch out for her if I were you, Abby. She’s lived here forever and she’s just… peculiar.” “You mean rude for no reason?” The “little girls” remark, while gender affirming, still stung. Mark shrugged. “Everyone who lives here long enough has a run-in with Miss Evelyn some way or another. It’s easier just to try and not antagonize her” Abby didn’t see Evelyn Matson for the next few weeks, and a day or so after the unpleasant incident at the desk, she stopped thinking about her, too. Near the end of October, on her way to work, she saw her again in the elevator. It was one of those late fall days where the weather is unseasonably warm, and Abby was ready for her Friday dress down at work. Evelyn was already on the elevator when it arrived on the 14th floor. “Are you on your way to work, dear?” Evelyn asked, as Abby stepped on. “Um, good morning. Yes, I am,” Abby replied. Evelyn’s eyes lingered for what seemed like a few moments longer than necessary, staring at her bare legs underneath the short skirt. “Are you sure you won’t be…” Evelyn seemed to pause and look for the right words, “too cold?” “Nope!” Abby answered cheerfully, “I’m pretty warm-blooded!” Ugh, she thought, how annoying. Best to kill her with kindness. “Hmm… Are you sure you mightn’t want some stockings?” Five more floors to go. “No thank you! I know how to pick out clothes. Byeee!” Abby’s voice fairly dripped with sarcasm. Three more floors before she could escape. “And telling someone ‘Byeee,’” Evelyn said imitating her drawn-out pronunciation of the word sarcastically, “you think that’s an appropriate way to speak to someone who’s trying to help you?” “Oh, only when the person trying to ‘help me’ is being a total bitch!” she answered with fake cheerfulness, using her hands to put air quotes around the words. The elevator doors thankfully opened before Evelyn could retort, and Abby practically ran to the front door. What was this lady’s problem with her? She huffed as the doorman opened the door for her and she stepped into the brisk fall morning. It was hard enough being the only queer person for like 10 blocks in either direction. Why did this lady insist on making her so uncomfortable? “That girl,” she heard behind her, as Evelyn loudly struck up a conversation with the doorman. By the time she’d swiped her MetroCard and made her way onto the northbound Q train she’d made up her mind: no more Miss Nice Girl, next time, she was just going to confront Evelyn directly. Chapter 2 - VIEW FROM THE 26TH FLOOR Contrary to popular belief, Evelyn Matson had not lived in Coleridge Towers forever. She’d purchased her unit 10 or so years ago because she loved the sweeping southeast views of the city and the river from the 26th floor. She’d liked it so much that when the penthouse unit above her had come on the market, with its ridiculously large private balcony, she’d purchased that one, too, and combined the units together. She’d knocked out the bedroom walls downstairs to create more living space and converted the upstairs unit into bedrooms. In the mornings, she loved to sit above the City’s hustle and bustle and bask in the morning breezes just after she got out of bed as she waited for the coffee to finish its preprogramed cycle in the upstairs kitchenette. This morning, however, as she sipped her coffee and looked out toward the the river, she was perturbed. And Evelyn Matson was not a woman who liked to be perturbed. It had to do with the new girl in the building, Abigail something-or-other who had moved into one of the rental studios on the 14th floor. She recalled her interaction with her in the elevator yesterday: the gangly girl was cute, somehow uncomfortable in her own skin, not unattractive, but certainly not well-mannered. She was petulant. No, Evelyn thought, sipping her too-hot coffee, that wasn’t the right word. As an educated person, Evelyn felt obligated to find the proper word. She blew on the coffee and waited a few seconds before taking a satisfying slurp. Fresh. That was the right word. At 42, Evelyn had never called a young person “fresh” before, but that was precisely what she was. The too-revealing clothes, the childish eye rolls, the air quotes, the bratty attitude, the interrupting. Yes… “Fresh” sounded like something that her mother would call a young lady like Abigail and it fit perfectly. A young woman in need of guidance and discipline. The coffee was no longer too hot, and Evelyn was determined to get to know this Abigail whoseit better. She thought again of the creamy white thighs in the elevator, the subtle curve of her bottom visible through the slit in the trench coat and smiled to herself; she was certainly not unattractive. And the ”Good Out Here” rainbow t-shirt suggested a certain… openness and, perhaps, kinship. She smiled to herself. To say that Evelyn had a plan would have been to give her far too much credit. Evelyn didn’t need plans; she simply determined that she would do things, and through sheer force of will, they happened. It had been this way since her parents died when she was young: a combination of willpower and wealth meant that little stood in her way. On her way out of the building, she stopped to chat with Mark for a moment, exchanging pleasantries. “What do you know about the new girl? Tall girl, 14th floor, renter I assume?” Mark nodded. “You know, the one who interrupted us when we were speaking the other day?” “Oh, Abigail Lawrence?” Mark shifted uncomfortably. “She just moved into 14L recently. A studio. No dishwasher, hasn’t been renovated.” Mark paused, and while Evelyn didn’t ask any follow up questions, the intensity of her attention drove him to expand. “She has a little dog, a yorkie? Its name is Apples.” “Boyfriend, girlfriend, visitors?” “None that I’m aware of. She’s a teacher at Selborne.” “Selborne? Really?” Evelyn was surprised. The girl must be whipsmart to teach at one of the most exclusive all-girls private schools in the City. “What does she teach?” “English I think? It’s only her first year there, though, and she’s still finishing her master’s during weekend and summer breaks.” As she walked the four blocks to her office to do a bit of drafting work on the quiet Saturday morning, Evelyn considered how surprising it was that Abigail had managed to land a job at Selborne. “Progressive” in name only, it was the kind of old-money school that her parents had chosen for her, and Abigail’s choice of clothes certainly didn’t fit with the conservative image that the school cultivated with its uniforms and exclusivity. Evelyn wasn’t the only one who had noticed that Abigail’s clothes didn’t exactly fit the Selborne image. On Friday afternoon during the last period of the day, Abigail was sitting in the teacher’s lounge when the Dean for Student Affairs, Ms. Thompson, stopped in and asked to speak with Abigail in her office. “How’s it going so far with the 10th graders, dear?” “Fine, thank you.” Sitting in Ms. Thompson’s office, the skirt felt especially too short and her confidence from earlier in the day evaporated. Should she cross her legs? “We’re working through Milton now, and it’s such a pleasure to read with the girls.” “Oh? I’ve always been partial to Paradise Lost myself. ‘Into this wild Abyss/The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave-/Of neither sea nor shore nor air nor fire,/ But all these in their pregnant causes mixed/Confusedly and which thus might ever fight,/ Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain/ His dark materials to create more worlds,--/Into the wild Abyss the wary Fiend/ Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while…’” “I love that moment,” Abby began, “the vulnerability that Satan feels, the uncertainty. His dependance on God, but also his bravery…” Mrs. Thompson was struck again by how much she liked Abigail; she was a careful reader, and she had the potential to be a wonderful teacher. And being just 10 or 12 years older than the girls she taught, she was relatable, too. It was no wonder that the girls had taken such a shine to her. As they talked about the book, Abby seemed to lose herself in the language, and Mrs. Thompson shifted the conversation to her purpose with regret. “In any case, I’ve had some complaints that I wanted to address with you.” Abigail’s blood turned to ice. Not this. Not again. She felt the tears well up and start to fall softly. Fired for being too trans? Too queer? For wearing the gay pride shirt? Stupid, stupid, stupid, she scolded herself, I should have known that I was pushing it… “It’s about your skirt, dear. It’s a bit… more revealing… than what we generally consider to be appropriate for a young woman. Now, as a role model for young ladies, we place the utmost importance on ensuring…” Abigail’s tears turned momentarily into tears of relief, and then into humiliation. She should have listened to that bitch in the elevator who made the nasty stockings comment. She took the proffered tissue and wiped her eyes to try and preserve some degree of dignity. She made out the words “leggings” and “only a warning” while trying to pull herself together. “And of course, if you ever want advice, you’re welcome to come to me.” “Thank you,” Abby said tearfully as she finished blotting her eyes. “I appreciate it.” In reality, Abby did not appreciate it. She did not appreciate it at all. As she fled the office and the school for the weekend, she considered that asking for advice about her wardrobe from Ms. Thompson was about as likely as Satan in Paradise Lost returning to God’s good graces. Back in 14L, there was no need to even pull the curtains to enjoy the privacy of a good cry in her tiny, dark studio. At least this was hers, and no one could take that from her, she thought, as she curled up under the covers of the full-sized bed that dominated the space. She took her pills early, letting bitter progesterone dissolve under her tongue. She hugged her teddy bear, Stephen, and drifted off to sleep. Her dreams that night were ultra-realistic and terrifying. When she woke up the next morning, her sheets were soaked, like they always were when she had bad dreams.

Disclaimer--All characters are fictional and meant to be over age 18. Be warned: this is a non-consensual story, but he comes around in the end. Among the stories I've written, this one has the happiest ending. Chapter 1 Julie was waiting for him in the hall when he opened the bathroom door, so he immediately felt guilty. He wasn’t sure if she had been waiting to use it, or if she had an urgent patient question. But either way, she didn’t look happy, and he felt a little self-conscious that she had been waiting on him to finish peeing. Standing right outside the door drew attention to his bathroom habits, and he had always been shy about other people knowing he was “doing his business”. When she urgently signaled to follow her toward the hallway that ran the length of the building to their pod of exam rooms, he walked closely behind. It was always good to keep your nurse happy; he had learned that in medical school. It made your day MUCH easier. She walked into their work room, a small space with a diminutive computer work station for each of them and a set of cabinets, as well as an old exam table, which was no longer used for patients. They usually piled supplies on it these days, though today it happened to be bare. She waited for him to come in, then closed the door behind him. She paused. He waited, a bit mystified. After a moment she met his eyes, lips pressed firmly together. “We need to talk,” she said tensely. He blinked. “Ok, what’s up?” Julie Davis had been his nurse for nearly a year now, having been hired shortly after he was. She was efficient, smart, and personable. The patients loved her, and he appreciated her as a competent and friendly assistant with a sharp wit. In addition, she was pretty as hell. He’d never seen her upset or angry, but she seemed a little of both right now. It caught his attention. She squinted a little. “What should I do if there is a doctor in the practice who is being irresponsible, keeping patients waiting every day, slowing down employees, and keeping them from going home to their family at night? What should I do?” He was curious. He had a handful of partners. They were relatively tight-knit. This would be news. “Probably tell him. Or her, I guess. They’d want to know.” “Yeah?” She paused, considering. “I guess that’s right.” He sat down at his workstation, interested in the gossip. “Who is it?” She looked up at him. “Well, actually…it’s you.” He shifted uncomfortably, taken aback at first. “Are—are you serious? Me? Really? Wha–” He was lost. She sat down, but her eyes never left his face. “You spend half an hour or more in the potty every single day, keeping patients waiting, and keeping me from getting home to my kids. It has to stop.” His eyebrows furrowed. He was distracted by the use of the word, “potty”. She used it often, instead of the more common—and adult—“bathroom” or “restroom”. He knew she was a single mom with small children, so he assumed it was a habit. But it was odd, and a little embarrassing that she used it with him. It made him feel like a little kid. Especially in this context. “You’ve been…timing me? Thaaat seems a little weird. Normally, I wouldn’t mind the extra attention, especially from you.” He raised his eyebrows at her with a smile, pretending to flirt. He would never come on to her. He felt strongly about professional boundaries and was careful about sexual harassment. But it was amusing to fake it sometimes, and humor was useful in defusing awkward situations like this. Was she really talking about how long he spent in the bathroom?! “But…well, it’s the bathroom, right? So…” She didn’t hesitate. “Well, I wasn’t timing you at first. But it has gotten a little ridiculous, and I started wondering just how long your patients and I spend waiting for you.” He looked down, embarrassed. Ok, so humor wasn’t working. Yet. She seemed to be waiting for him to answer, however, and he wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, everybody needs to go to the bathroom. I can’t just turn that function off, you know?” “But no one spends so much time peeing. Or pooping.” She smiled a little to herself, and he was sure she said, under her breath, “Or…whatever.” He reddened but said nothing. Was she implying what he thought she was? What could you say to this? In truth, he had spent a lot of time in the bathroom. It was the only place the staff couldn’t bother him. He spent the time playing on his phone, and, though he would certainly never admit it to anyone, had in fact pleasured himself–rarely–in the past. He couldn’t believe she had been paying attention. He didn’t know whether he had a right to be offended, or just to be embarrassed. When he didn’t immediately speak, lost in thought about how he could possibly respond, she pressed on. “Of course, it’s none of my business what my doctor does in his spare time. But this isn’t spare time. This is work time, and you are being rude to your patients and to me.” Her cheeks were flushed. If anything, it made her look prettier than usual. At any other time, he would be attracted to her. He swallowed. He thought he could see where she was going. “Well, I’m sorry, of course. I can hurry in the future.” He nodded to himself. “I wasn’t really thinking about your time. I will hurry.” Julie sighed. “I doubt it.” She stood up, and he subconsciously backed his chair up, surprised. She confidently continued, “I came up with my own plan,” looking down at him sternly. He thought for a moment that this was probably how her children felt. It was intimidating. “I thought I would put a diaper on you, and I’d change you when you needed it during the day. It would be a more efficient system, because I can do that quickly, and you wouldn’t have to stop in the middle of seeing patients to go hide in the potty.” He laughed out loud. This humor definitely helped defuse the tension in the room, and he appreciated it. But he stopped when he saw that she wasn’t smiling. Why not? This was a ridiculous idea. She had to be kidding. “I can’t—wait, you’re not seriously suggesting that, are you?” “Of course I am. You said before that everyone has to go to the potty. That’s not quite true,” she said, sitting down again across from him. “Everybody needs to pee, and everybody needs to poop, but not everyone needs to go to the potty to do it. It would save loads of time and make you a more efficient doctor. Agreeing to let me diaper you would show that you care about your patients. And about your staff, or at least about their time.” He stared at her, trying to decide if she was pulling his leg. Finally, he shook his head. “Yeah, wellll, don’t be silly. That’s never gonna happen. I’m an adult, and I plan to go on using the bathroom like other adults. But I’m sorry about inconveniencing you. I’ll be faster when I have to go.” She pursed her lips and smiled at him. “Adults wear diapers, you know. Cool adults, even. Like astronauts and race car drivers. You could be like an astronaut!” Again, it was hard to tell if she was joking. She seemed earnest about this. “Maybe they do, Julie, but that ain’t gonna happen. Let’s drop it. I could never agree to that.” He couldn’t shake the idea that she was putting him on. But she wasn’t smiling at all. She had an intense kind of look in her eye. “You could,” she insisted. “You would show that your patients’ and staffs’ time is important to you. That would be admirable. You’d have nothing to be embarrassed about.” She nodded at him seriously. “It’ll work. You’ll see. Let’s try it!” But he refused to accept the suggestion. He thought he was being generous enough to take her seriously. But this was bizarre. He’d have to reconsider what he thought of Julie’s common sense. If she thought this was a reasonable plan, what else did she think? What a wacko. “I’m sorry, but that’s just too weird. I promise you I’ll be more mindful of your time. But I can’t do…that.” Julie stared at him for a moment. Then she slowly nodded solemnly. “Well, we can try it your way. But if you can’t go faster, I won’t take no for an answer.” She sat back down but held his eyes with her own. “Let’s be clear about my expectations, since I’m not sure you even know what’s normal. “If you are peeing, I want you in and out of the potty in 60 seconds. At your age, there is no reason it should take longer. If you have to poop, it is okay to spend as long as 5 minutes, but no more.” He blushed as she talked to him so graphically, and again felt like a child. What was she going to do now, tell him how to wipe? This was ridiculous, and he found it impossible to engage in this…negotiation, or whatever it was. Instead, anxious to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he shook his head. This was humiliating. “Julie, I’ll be quicker. Can we just leave it at that? Now, do we have patients?” Her hand shot out and grabbed his. “Not so fast. I’m serious. I need an agreement from you before we move on. If you take longer than that, we’re going with my plan. Agreed?” He hesitated. He knew he could never accept that. “Julie, seriously. Please!” he said in exasperation. If there was one thing that embarrassed him, it was talking about his bodily functions. Here they were talking about timing his bowel movements. But Julie shook her head. “Nope. I want a commitment from you. We’ll go with diapers if you need it, okay?” Frustrated, he protested, “I don’t think I can agree to that. It’s crazy!” “Fine. Then agree to the deal, and then don’t be slow. It is entirely under your control.” “Argh,” he groaned, blushing furiously. “Okay, just drop it.” Julie nodded, still looked at him closely. “I will drop it, for now. But be careful. We have a deal, and I will collect on that deal if I need to. I’ll be watching.” And he was convinced that she would be. He noticed her interested glance when he walked the long hallway back to the bathroom during the next few days. He even found her outside the bathroom door occasionally, which kind of freaked him out. But he found that as long as he was attentive and mindful, he wasn’t in danger of incurring her wrath. It turned out she was right about the time frames in the bathroom. It was his growing confidence that turned out to be his downfall. More than 2 weeks later, he was harried and stressed, and ducked into the bathroom, unable to keep from glancing at Twitter while he relieved himself. There was an article on his football team’s plans for the upcoming draft, suggesting that the backup quarterback might be trade bait. He appreciated the momentary escape from his day, and didn’t even realize he was 4.5 minutes over his agreed limit until he opened the bathroom door and literally walked into her tapping her foot in the hallway outside. He glanced down at her, surprised to find someone there. When he saw her determined expression, he was so preoccupied that he was genuinely surprised. It finally dawned on him why she might be there, and what the upset look on her face might mean. His stress level returned to pre-Twitter levels. She was going to need to be mollified somehow. She pointed at his chest, and then toward their work space. She turned on her heels and strode away without looking back. He hung his head, embarrassed to have this talk again. Seriously—why wouldn’t she let this drop? He was trying, right? On his way back to the workspace, he started thinking that perhaps he’d need a new nurse. As nice and efficient as Julie was, her preoccupation with the bathroom–and diapers?!–was a bit alarming. It was midmorning, and there was a lull in his schedule, but still. Was it fair to him to keep him from his inbox to talk about the “potty”? She entered the work room first, then stood aside to let him past her. He dutifully went, trying to think about what to say to deflect her anger, and how to set this weird relationship straight. He was the boss in this relationship. She needed to understand that. When he passed her, he was startled to see her shut and lock the door behind them. She stood in front of the door. He paused awkwardly, not sure how to address her actions. But she didn’t wait for him. “I’ll give you this: you held it together longer than I thought you would,” Julie said, shaking her head. “But, of course, here we are. Were you peeing or pooping?” He reddened. She was so blunt and direct about these things. He couldn’t think fast enough to lie. “Peeing,” he said quietly. He was glad he hadn’t been moving his bowels. He wasn’t even sure he could say the other word in front of someone. “Wow. 5 and a half minutes for peeing. Did you get lost? Maybe you had trouble finding it?” she asked sarcastically. He realized that he should feel offended, but she was talking again. “You really think I couldn’t have changed a diaper and had you back to work in 5 and a half minutes?” He stood silently, shocked that she was again discussing the diaper thing. What else could he say to bring her back to reality? Is suggesting that he wear diapers enough cause for firing someone? He struggled to find the right words to say to her. But she plowed right on. “Well, I guess we’re going to find out now, aren’t we? Pull your pants down while I get a diaper out.” She turned to the cabinet and pulled open a door, where an unopened pack of adult diapers had apparently been waiting. He frowned. He knew the office didn’t stock those. He was freshly embarrassed by the idea that she had gone shopping and purchased them specifically for him, expecting him to need them. Had they been here ever since their previous conversation?! Julie pulled out the package, ripped open the bag, and pulled out a diaper, setting it on the counter while she put the pack away again. She reached up into a nearby cabinet and found a bottle of baby powder and a blue pad, then turned back to him. “Pick up the pace. We’ve got someone scheduled in a few minutes.” He stared at her, unable to believe that she really expected to go through with this. “You can’t be—“ “Of course I’m serious,” she interrupted him sternly. “We had a deal. So get your pants down around your ankles and hop up on the table.” His mouth dropped open. “NOW.” He suddenly found it hard to swallow. She was a nut job. “Look, Julie, I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry, but—“ She walked back over to the door and stood in front of it as he trailed off, intimidated a bit by her confidence. “But what?” “But I told you before that I wouldn’t go through with this…this plan. I just can’t do that.” “You can and you will,” she snapped. “You specifically promised me you’d do it. I told you that it was entirely under your control. You could have avoided wearing diapers, but you didn’t. Today, it wasn’t even a close call.” She paused, seeming to consider. “One might even wonder if you were asking for this.” She tilted her head and looked curiously at him. “Were you?” “No!” he exclaimed. “Of course not. And I wasn’t seriously agreeing to this. I—I can’t do this. I can’t—“ he lowered his voice. “I can’t pull down my pants in my own office. I can’t wear a diaper. I can’t let you see me naked, or talk about my…time…in the bathroom. You’re my employee. I’m your boss. I just can’t. You need to drop it. Let’s get back to work.” He started for the door, but she resolutely stood in his way. “Pants down, hop up.” She stared at him. He froze, completely undone by her attitude. “Look, we’re not getting back to work until you are wearing that diaper. The door is locked. No one will know you’re wearing a diaper unless you tell them, and I can’t imagine you will. It will be under your pants, and no one will be able to tell. No one cares what you wear for underpants. “I care about you as a doctor and a person, and I firmly believe this is in your best interest, not to mention the interest of your patients and of me. Now get those pants down so we can move forward.” He looked at her helplessly. “I…I…can’t…” She suddenly took a step forward. She had a steely look in her eye. “Young man, you’ve got until I count to 3. One…” She raised her eyebrows at him. He stood frozen, afraid. “Two…” He folded. He had no idea why, but he didn’t want her to get to 3. What did he think would happen, here, in his office? But she’d assumed the “mom look” that did not invite argument. He had made that mistake as a child, and it hadn’t ended well. So it was more instinct than anything else that led to his obeying her. His hands, trembling, went to his belt, and he hurriedly unbuckled it and then unbuttoned his slacks. He started easing them down his legs, and tried to look up at her. He couldn’t quite meet her gaze. But Julie smiled, and said contentedly, “That’s better. I knew you’d be a good boy. Now, walk—or shuffle, I guess—over to the table behind you.” His face burned. He glanced around and saw he was a few feet away from the exam table she indicated. He felt ridiculous as he tried to walk and found, as she said, that he needed to shuffle his feet, moving over to the table. She walked around to the end of the table and patted it gently. “Up you go.” He couldn’t believe this was happening. He tried not to think, doing as she asked now without questioning. He backed up to the table and edged onto it, feeling the cold vinyl against his bare thighs. She had guided him to a point a few feet from the end, and, once seated, she gently indicated that he was to swing his legs up to the end of the table and lie down. He took a deep breath and lay back. She cooed, “Good boy. Now let’s get those undies down…” Feeling her hands tugging on his boxers sent him into a bit of a panic. “Wait!” he said, sitting up again. “Um—uh—why don’t we—I mean, why can’t I just put it on myself? I’m not a baby, you know.” He was breathing heavily from the fear that she would see him naked. He wasn’t a virgin, but the number of women who had seen him naked was a very small number. She stared down at him for just a moment before shaking her head. “No, I’m sorry, that wouldn’t be a good idea. How many diapers have you changed?” He stared at her. “Well, none. But I’m a doctor. How hard can it be? Can you just show me—generally—what to do?” He nodded to himself, and spoke more quickly and confidently. “I mean, then you don’t have to be directly involved, and your time won’t be wasted. That would let you get home earlier to see your family,” he added, thinking that might sound appealing. She seemed to like his eagerness, and smiled at him, almost fondly. This made him think that maybe he could sway her, and could make his fate a little less humiliating. ”That’s sweet of you to think of me that way.” But then she said, “But it is a tricky job getting the diaper to lie flat so that no one will see it or hear it, and so that it won’t leak. Keeping it all secret from your patients is the most important thing, don’t you think? I don’t think we want to leave your secret in the hands of an amateur. What if you left a little space for wetness to leak out and walked around with wet pants for the afternoon?” She waited for that image to form in his mind, and was rewarded with his brow furrowing slightly. “And then there is my suspicion that if you can’t just pee in a reasonable amount of time, how likely is it that you could pee and then change your own diaper in a reasonable amount of time? No, if this is to be helpful to you, and to your patients, and to me, I’ll have to be the one to do it.” She smiled at his sinking expression. “I can tell you are embarrassed. Is it because I’m going to see your pee-pee?” If it was possible, he reddened still further. “But really–it will be okay. Remember, I’m a professional nurse, not to mention a mom of boys, and you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. If it could be done without seeing you naked, we would do it that way. But it can’t be helped, so let’s just act professionally and get through it. Afterward, I think you’ll be relieved that it wasn’t nearly as big a deal as you thought. Now, let’s get to it.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ll have patients very soon.” Defeated, he let her push him gently back into a lying position. She put her hands on his hands and moved them to his sides, away from his boxers. “Let’s get these big-boy undies down.” Her hands gripped the lower outside corners of his boxers. “Lift your bottom,” she coaxed. He took a breath, looked away, and did as she asked. Once his rear end had cleared the table, shoes firmly on the end of the table, she efficiently pulled down his boxers and slid a blue pad under him. “Okay, back down again.” He could feel the cool soft flat surface under his backside. “Just some basics here. Your cooperation will go a long way toward making this efficient and fast. And I’m sure you want this to be quick. First, your knees should always be as wide apart as you can get them. Ok?” she asked, “Knees apart.” She waited for him to nod. “Second, you’ll always start with your feet down on the table, with your knees apart, of course. That is the ‘down’ position, obviously.” Again he acknowledged her, dimly aware that she had waited for him to be naked to be having this detailed instructional talk. “Third, I’ll need you to lift up your legs so I can remove the old diaper and/or place the new one in place. When you do that, you’ll want to grab your knees (still wide open, right?) and pull them as far as you can toward your shoulders. We’ll call that position, ‘up.’ Okay?” He nodded numbly. He just wanted this to be over. “Finally, we’ll want you in the ‘down’ position again. And your knees?” she prompted him, an expectant smile on her face. “What?” he asked. He was trying to pretend this wasn’t happening. It didn’t help to be asked a question that reminded him he was a person and was helping this process. “Where will your knees be when your legs and bottom come back down onto the new diaper?” she asked patiently. “Oh, uh, open?” he mumbled distractedly. Could this really be happening? “Right! Great job,” she praised him, holding her hand up to be high-fived like he was a little child. “Now, let’s just practice that once or twice to make sure you’ve got it in your head. We want it to be fast in the future.” He sighed silently. “First down.” He kept his feet on the table, knees bent, and opened his legs slightly. He was secretly focused on hoping she wasn’t going to look at or comment on his penis, and was desperately hoping it wasn’t going to become erect. That was the main reason he wanted this over with. “Ah, ah,” she clucked, staring at his groin, her hands moving to his inner thighs. “THAT is not ‘wide open.’” She pushed his knees gently until they were nearly flat against the table, completely exposing his privates. He blushed with humiliation. “That’s better. THAT’S how wide apart your legs need to be. And now, ‘up’.” He was partially in his own whirling world of embarrassment, and was slow to realize she wanted him to move again. “Come on now, up you go,” she prompted again, tapping his bottom to get his attention. He quickly pulled his knees up toward his shoulders, rotating his bottom up toward her. He realized suddenly that now she had an excellent view of his wide open backside, something that no woman other than his own mother had ever seen, as far as he knew. He flushed further as he noticed her eyes drop to his bottom and look appraisingly. She made a little sound he couldn’t interpret, but seemed to want to move past it. She again urged his legs further apart, stretching him as wide as possible, and tapped his bottom up a bit more. Then she smiled and said, “Excellent. That will work nicely.” He heard a rustling sound and felt her touch his lower back. “After you are cleaned up and a new diaper is in place, you’ll hear me say, ‘down,’ again, and that will be your cue to lower your legs into the original position.” He did, relieved, and felt a bulky soft sensation under his upper buttocks as he set down. He knew what that was without having to look, and thought maybe he might be sweating. He started to close his legs instinctively, but felt her hands again on his thighs. “Not yet. Still wide apart. Pretty much always wide apart for me, please, until you sit up.” He felt a cool sensation over his bottom and genitals, and started to glance down before he caught the scent of baby powder. He glanced down in alarm, and saw her shaking a baby powder bottle over him. A quick shake here and there, and she was done. He was too stressed to admit it had always been a smell he enjoyed. He certainly couldn’t admit that here, now. Next he felt her pull the diaper up through his legs and tape it firmly in place on his lower belly. It felt snug and comfortable, but substantial, between his legs. He was very grateful not to be naked, and even happier that he hadn’t developed an erection during the procedure. That seemed like a miracle, given the fact that a pretty young woman was inches away from his naked body. But his stress and worry seemed to have protected him for the time being. “Okay, sit up now,” she directed him. And he did so, pulling his knees together and swinging around to hang them over the table. It was a little awkward to feel the bulk between his legs, and he heard a rustle as he moved. “You did wonderfully! Quite the big boy. Wasn’t that easy and painless?” she asked, smiling. He grunted a little. It had actually hurt, but only his pride. He had to admit that, even with the instructions, she had done that very fast. But what could he possibly say out loud? “Well, I know you can’t admit it, but you did fine. I think this will work very well. Now, you should be careful standing up, because your pants are still down. You can pull them up now, and see how that feels.” He quickly moved to follow her directions, happy to cover up the diaper, which must look ridiculous on him. He pulled up his boxers, which slid slickly over the plastic of the diaper, and then pulled his pants up while she folded up the blue pad and put the baby powder away. He was able to button them fairly easily, and the zipper was a little tight, but he got that up as well. He finished and looked down to make sure it looked acceptable. She turned and looked as well. “Well, that’s not too bad at all, is it? I wouldn’t be able to tell you are wearing a diaper!” she remarked cheerfully. He wasn’t sure. The front of his khakis definitely puffed out, and though he turned his head, he couldn’t really tell about the back. “I don’t know,” he said hesitantly. “Won’t people be able to tell right away?” “Nonsense,” she said, unlocking but not opening the door. “If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t know to look. People aren’t nearly that smart, and people are too polite to stare at your crotch. You’re just overly sensitive.” She turned around again to look him in the eye. “No one will know. It is our secret.” He thought of something else and tensed up. “You put baby powder on me,” he said accusingly. “I’m sure people will smell it.” Julie smiled. “Well, maybe,” she admitted. “But they’ll just think you smell nice. I personally LOVE that smell. And it is way better than smelling like a used diaper, isn’t it?” She was gratified to see his eyebrows twitch with concern. She came nearer and took his hands in hers. “You’ll be just fine. There are really only two things to remember: first, no potty breaks. Second, when you think you need to be changed, come see me.” She saw him swallow self-consciously. “You’ll do fine. Pretend it’s not there. You’ll be used to it in no time.” “Wait—“ he stammered. That made him consider something for the first time. “How long do I have to wear this?” She wrinkled her brow and cocked her head slightly, as if she had misheard him. “What do you mean?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I didn’t ask before. But this is just for this morning, right? Or today? To prove a point? When can I be done?” He chanced a brief look at her face, but found it hard to meet her eyes. She was 5-6 inches shorter than he, but seemed very intimidating right now. He stared at the floor. She, however, reached out for his chin and brought it up, forcing him gently to look at her. “Sweetie, this isn’t just for the morning or today. But let’s just get through today and tomorrow and then…we can talk about it, okay?” She smiled at him. He nodded thoughtfully, as he thought this sounded like it was up for discussion. He would have to think about what he would say tomorrow to convince her to give it up. Why hadn’t he negotiated how long this would last before he agreed to it? He wandered away, and she watched the diaper through his pants shift back and forth, rustling gently. He wasn’t quite waddling, but the diaper was definitely changing the way he walked. She adored that look in her boys, but was starting to think she might like it even better in her doctor. That could NOT have gone better, from her perspective. She’d planned this for a long, long time, working out options for every possible contingency. She’d expected reluctance, of course. Julie had hoped she wouldn’t need to threaten him, and was very happy she didn’t need to. A lot of what she had planned depended on trust. This doctor was naïve, well-intentioned, attractive, and single. From the moment she had started working for him, she had fantasized about being with him. He hadn’t asked her out yet, so she’d needed to jump-start their relationship. Nothing like having a man naked on a table in front of you to force some intimacy! She had guessed correctly that he could be motivated by his desire to be a better doctor and employer. She knew he was shy, and that was why she took the leap today. She had a little experience bossing around men, and had generally found she liked it. It was part of why she liked being a nurse. Patients responded well to her. But this was a little different. Yes, she truly had a good excuse to diaper him. But this could also turn into a serious, long-term project, and she had high hopes for where it could eventually lead. For now, she had to nurture him through the next few hours carefully and gently. Then she could worry about the next few days and weeks. One step at a time. Chapter 2 He was extremely self-conscious of every step. In his mind, the diaper was clearly visible and audible to everyone, though oddly no one seemed to be commenting about it. His cheeks burned as he made his way through the hallways from exam room to exam room. He could feel it, warm and bulky between his legs, hear it rustling quietly with every step, see it bulging gently under his khakis, and when he sat down, he could smell the faint scent of baby powder. But even in the quiet exam rooms, patients didn’t seem to want to say anything about it. Were they too embarrassed for him to mention it? Was it really possible that they weren’t noticing? As the morning wore on, it became clear that a fair number of them, anyway, couldn’t tell. If he just pretended nothing was wrong, they seemed to carry on that way, too, and with every visit that passed, he did relax a little bit. He tried to keep up conversation during quiet times when he had to move around, just in case he needed to mask the sound. The growing pressure in his bladder was tolerable. He had already had his bathroom break, after all, so it wasn’t difficult to ignore the issue until lunchtime. This was when he usually got a second break to hit the restroom. When he finished seeing patients for the morning, he felt like it was a little silly not to go. After all, there weren’t patients waiting. Would Julie really mind? On his way over to the lunch room he turned down the hall to the bathroom. As luck would have it, he met Julie coming out of the bathroom, the smell of soap fresh on her hands. She stopped and looked him up and down as he stood, surprised and unprepared to meet her. There was nothing else along this part of the hall that he could say he was going to do. “So…what’s up?” she asked, smiling pleasantly, as if they were pals meeting on the street. “I, just, well, needed to…” he faded out, not willing to discuss it with her. Suddenly he realized she might be serious about not wanting him to go to the bathroom. “Were you heading to the potty?” He nodded, at first not saying anything. “Well, I finished seeing patients, so, um, I—well, I—thought it might be okay to, um…” he stammered, looking at his feet. “Hmmm,” she said, nodding. “Well, I don’t remember telling you that you could go to the potty. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you that you were NOT to use the potty at all today.” She touched his elbow gently, making him look up briefly at her. “Remember?” “Yes, but—“ “Yes, ma’am, please,” she corrected quietly, as if it were a common error she had corrected before. He stopped and looked at her briefly, and decided he didn’t want to make a big deal about that right now. “Yes, ma’am, but there aren’t any patients waiting. I thought that was the point.” She glanced around to make sure they were alone. Everyone else had gone off to lunch. “Well, it was part of the point. We’re also trying to make sure that I and your other employees get home as soon as they can. And if you are fiddling around in the potty, you aren’t working or eating, and that will lengthen our day. “I don’t want you in the potty at all today. If you have to pee, I want you to pee in your diaper. Is it too wet to pee in?” He looked confused for a moment. She saw he didn’t understand. She clarified, “Did you already wet your diaper? If you pee again, will your diaper leak?” “Of course not!“ he said, startled that she thought he might have peed in this thing. “Then feel free to tinkle away. You don’t need the potty right now.” He looked unhappy. She knew she had to sound reasonable. “Look, you’re free to use the potty after the patients are gone and your staff is home, or if there aren’t patients waiting and your task list is caught up. But you know as well as I do that you pretty much always have a task list. If today isn’t that rare day—and it isn’t because I just saw your task list—I don’t want you wasting time in the potty. You’ve got something else you can use now. “So…off you go to lunch. Don’t dilly-dally. See you afterward!” She turned him gently and patted him on his padded bottom. To his credit, she thought, he didn’t talk back or seem angry. Just quiet, like he needed time to readjust. He was thinking that he wasn’t truly desperate yet. His bladder wasn’t comfortable, but he could wait to pee. He certainly wasn’t going to do it in his diaper. That would be ridiculous, just what she wanted, and presumably would put him right back up on that changing table for more embarrassment. It was one thing to be forced to wear the diaper, but another thing to use it willingly. He was thinking about how little he could get away with drinking at lunch. He was just wondering if he could last until his patients were done that afternoon! He was sitting down to lunch with the other doctors and a drug rep—without a drink—when Julie walked past with her food and set a tall glass of water down in front of him. She winked at him and said to the others, “Wouldn’t want my doctor to get dehydrated! It’s a long day.” He was really starting to resent her, but–he didn’t need her to be upset with him. That could make their working relationship very difficult, and could cause his task list to grow dramatically. Keeping his nurse happy had truly become instinctual. So he said out loud, “Well, thanks!” She said, “You’re welcome,” and kept walking, but paused at the door and looked at him pointedly, raising her eyebrows. He raised the glass to his lips and took a token sip, setting it down again quickly. She didn’t budge. She kept staring at him, until others turned to see what was going on. Uncomfortable, he sheepishly took a longer draught of the water, until she nodded and left, smiling. Now he had a foreboding feeling. She was going to force him to pee. Not explicitly, but it was not going to be easy to hold off if he had to drink to make her happy. He’d have to talk to her about that. He finished his lunch and went to his desk, working for another 15 minutes on his task list. He worked hard, returning calls and forwarding messages to patients, hoping that the faster he got done, the sooner he could go home and escape this crazy day. And if he hurried, maybe he wouldn’t have to pee before finishing. But the longer he worked, the more the pressure in his bladder grew. Crap. He got up momentarily about 5 minutes before the first afternoon patient was scheduled to put some therapy forms in the “out” bin. While he was up, Julie walked into the work room. She walked right up to him and shocked him by cupping his crotch with her hand. “How’s it going?” she asked pleasantly. He yelped and jumped back reflexively. “Whoops! Sorry, force of habit,” she said, smiling a little. “Just checking to see if you needed to be changed.” “Well you could have just asked me!” he exclaimed, his cheeks burning at the reminder that he had been reduced to the level of one of her little boys. “Okay,” she replied. “Although I guess I already know the answer. ‘Do you need to be changed?’ I’ll point out that I do have about 2-3 minutes before the first patient comes to change your diaper if you do.” “Oh! No,” he replied quickly. “No need.” He tried to sound offhanded, but it came out seeming tense. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Really? That seems kind of strange. You always use the potty before the afternoon. You must really need to go. Are you holding back just so you won’t have to be changed? Are you scared of me?” She smiled to make it seem like a silly idea. “I doubt you can make it through the whole afternoon. You’ll be so uncomfortable.” He shifted positions a little, quite aware of the discomfort already. She was right, of course. But he hated to think about it. He couldn’t even really talk about it with her. So he didn’t say anything. “We won’t have time during the afternoon, I don’t think. Now is your only chance for a change. If you don’t pee now, once you do wet your diaper, you might have to be wet for the rest of the day.” He definitely didn’t want that. But he couldn’t stand the idea of “using” his diaper like a baby. And now she would know that he had done it, and even when he had done it. Having her so intimately aware of his private habits was almost as bad as using a diaper for them. This was excruciating. “Can we please just stop talking about it?” he pleaded, his exasperation with her bluntness showing. She grinned, clearly unconcerned with his shyness. “You are embarrassed about normal body processes, aren’t you? That is probably because you aren’t a parent yet, and not a nurse. We’re all about body fluids.” She became more serious. “I’m not really that interested in whether you are embarrassed, you might have noticed. I am entirely focused on keeping us efficient and on schedule. And I know that, if you look at the big picture, of course you do, too. “So swallow your pride. Do what’s best for the patients and staff. Now, do you need a change?” He swallowed and looked down. He said quietly, “I have to go, but I haven’t yet.” She folded her arms. “Well, we haven’t got much time. If you’re going to pee, go ahead.” He glanced up, alarmed. “I don’t think I can do it with you here.” He looked around. “Can you…give me some privacy?” Julie shook her head grimly. “I don’t think so, champ. We don’t have time. If you want a dry diaper for the afternoon, you have to go right now.” He shook his head. This was too much. He couldn’t pee right now, in front of her. “Oh, come on,” she said. “I can’t even see you peeing. That is ridiculous.” He stood in front of her, staring at a spot on the floor. The silence stretched on. “Are you peeing? Are you done?” she prompted, eyeing the clock. He shook his head, miserably. His bladder hurt by now, but she was staring at him. He pretended he was somewhere else, that she wasn’t there. It felt so strange to try to pee while wearing clothes. Every instinct told him to hold it in, but he knew he had to overcome it. He shut his eyes completely, and tried to pretend he was in front of a toilet with his fly open. He pretended he was alone in the bathroom. Eventually he felt a little wetness come out, and fought the considerable urge to stop it. More came and more came. He felt warmth spread between his legs, and felt the diaper get noticeably heavier. He kept going, eventually feeling spent and comfortable. Except for the heavy wet diaper between his legs. That, at last, was enough to make him willing to have it changed. Time to act. He opened his eyes. “Okay, I—“ He was alone in the workroom. He was relieved and touched that Julie gave him some space. It seemed a little unlike her, but he wasn’t going to be picky. But where was she? He waddled–and was aware that he waddled now that his diaper was wet–over to the door of the workroom and peeked outside, not willing to show himself in public. He had to wait a moment, but then he spotted her—bringing a patient to the nearby exam room! He pulled himself back into the room. He hated to have to wait for her, but he knew she would be angry if he tried to take care of himself on his own. He’d just need to wait for her. He played on his phone for a few minutes. Eventually she hurried in, but instead of catering to him, she went straight to her computer and started the notes for the patient’s appointment. She barely seemed to acknowledge him. He waited for a moment for her to attend to him, but it seemed like he had completely forgotten about him. He was confused, but also quite uncomfortable. “Um, Julie, I hate to bother you, but would you have time now to, um, well…” he trailed off, unwilling to say the actual words if he didn’t have to. She turned in her chair to face him standing across the room, his legs held slightly apart for comfort sake. “Time to do what?” He reddened. “You know, to, um, change the, um…” “Your what?” she asked, staring pleasantly up at him. He stared dumbly at her. Finally he realized she wanted him to say it. “The, um…diaper.” “Change your diaper? No, sorry. We ran out of time. You took too long. We’ll have to take care of it later if we have a break.” She turned her back to him again. He couldn’t quite believe she had said that. She couldn’t be serious. He started to panic a little. “I really need some help here. Did I do something to upset you?” She turned back and frowned slightly, wrinkling her brow. “Why, of course not. But this is not an emergency. It is not even really an “urgency”. You are not in wet pants. You are wearing a diaper, which by definition is optionally changeable. We’ll change it when we have a minute and patients are not waiting. You prefer being dry? Of course you do. Well, keep up with patients and we’ll get to you, okay?” She smiled at him encouragingly. He didn’t like being patronized. “But—but—what if it…leaks? It is REALLY wet!” His eyes pleaded with her. She dragged him backward and closed the door briefly. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Let’s see.” She cupped her hand in front of her and reached toward him. Before he knew what was happening, she had her hand against his crotch. It was strange not being able to feel it. But he felt the weight of the wet diaper lift and fall once, twice, three times. She pulled her hand away, then reached for his face. She spoke more quietly, sounding reassuring. “Your diaper is wet, but you won’t leak. It could even take some more, if you’ve got it.” She turned around and opened the door. “Stop worrying. You’ll be fine. Remember, keep up!” He was not happy. He felt humiliated and betrayed by her, not to mention uncomfortable. She had told him to pee, and then he did, and she refused to change him! He almost felt like crying. He couldn’t believe she expected him to work like this. This was far worse than spending some extra time in the bathroom, and he would never be able to get used to this feeling, of that he was sure. It sagged to a ridiculous depth between his legs, rubbing against his mid-thighs. It was warm near his body, but cooler down there, which was very distracting, and any air that snuck inside the diaper made him aware of the wetness. He shuffled into his first appointment of the afternoon shyly, sure his patient was as aware of his soggy diaper as he was. He sat down on his stool, and felt the wetness anew, cool against him. He smelled a wave of powdery urine waft up, and was ready to be embarrassed as the patient asked what was going on. He worried about wetness leaking onto his pants as he stood again. But the visit passed without any apparent observations by the patient that anything was wrong. It was–except for his preoccupation–a normal visit. He was a little less concerned after that, and started to learn to ignore the strangeness of the situation, focusing instead on his work. His diaper never really got warm, as it pressed against him only when he sat, and sagged down and cooled when standing. But he became less paranoid and stressed. After an hour, Julie caught him coming out of a room, and whispered, “Ok, quick—we have a minute now.” He almost didn’t realize what she was saying, but then he nodded and followed at as close to a trot as he could manage with a soggy diaper between his legs. He entered the work room, and Julie closed the door behind him. She was all business. “Ok, pants down, hop up,” she said briskly, patting the exam table, where a blue pad was already laid out. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He hurried to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his slacks, dropping them to the floor. He yanked down his boxers to reveal a drooping diaper. He saw that the yellow line down the front was now blue. He turned and eased himself up onto the table. “Okay, swing around and lie down,” she instructed. She held a dry diaper in her hand, placing it next to a box of baby wipes and the bottle of baby powder she had laid out on the nearby shelf. He did so quickly. He didn’t want to slow her down and miss his chance for a dry diaper. Once he was lying down, he felt her hands at the tapes on the front of the diaper and felt a rush of cool air on his privates. He suddenly felt a cold wet pressure and looked down to see her vigorously wiping him down. She pressed the wipe across his pubic hair, then used the wipe to grab his penis, quickly stroking it down to the tip and releasing it efficiently. He felt her touch his testicles, stretching the skin as she wiped these as well. She turned the wipe over and fed it along his inner thighs and the creases there, then said, “Up.” He only had to think for a second before realizing what she wanted him to do. He reached down to grab his knees and help pull his legs and hips up, spreading his knees as widely as he could. Again he felt silly exposing himself to her like this, but she wasn’t snickering or laughing. Instead, he felt the wet diaper being pulled from under him. He felt another wipe move quickly across his buttocks, and then into his crack, moving up toward his anus. She brushed over it firmly, and he thought she paused slightly here, giving it a little extra pressure before moving up to the back of his scrotum. Suddenly a nice soft dry cushion pushed against his bottom, and a cool sensation as she sprinkled some new powder on it. She directed him, “Down.” He lowered himself obediently, and felt the new diaper under him. She sprinkled a little more powder in the front, then grasped the diaper and pulled it up through his legs, having to reach around his pants, which tethered his legs together. She stretched it tightly over his penis, taping it down. “All done! Go ahead and swing around and get up. You can pull your pants up. We’ll have another patient ready for you in just a moment.” She popped open the door and strode out, brushing a little baby powder off her hands as she went. He glanced down and realized the whole thing had barely taken a single minute. And he felt…good. Dry, cozy, comfortable. He smiled for the first time that day, grateful to Julie for her kindness. “Thanks!” he called after her and was rewarded with a little smile as she turned toward the waiting room to call a patient back. The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly. He kept up easily, and was rewarded with a very happy nurse. She smiled at him frequently, and seemed to anticipate his every nursing need. They were quite efficient, and finished seeing patients on time for the first time he could remember. All that remained was the rest of the shared task list, which he liked to clean up as much as possible by the end of the day. He worked at his computer, finishing up tasks and calling patients with results. Near the end, Julie came and stood next to him. He turned and looked up at her. She raised her eyebrows. “Anything else for me?” “No, I think we’re good. You can get out of here if you want.” “Great! Then let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” She locked the door and walked to the cabinet with the blue pads. He had actually forgotten for a moment that he was still wearing a diaper. He looked down self-consciously. “Well, I’m sure I can take care of it myself at this point.” He saw her purse her lips slightly. “I mean, it’s just taking off the diaper, right? Not much chance I can screw that up.” “Oh, I think it is part of my responsibility to return you to your off-work state. I’ll feel better knowing you are yourself again, you know? Pants down, hop up!” She smiled expectantly. He felt himself redden again. This seemed unnecessary, but she had been nice before, and he liked the camaraderie they had developed. He didn’t want to disappoint her, and at the end of the day his fatigue made it easier not to argue. He slowly rose and walked over to her. He lowered his pants and boxers and laid back on the table. She tapped the insides of his knees and he let them fall apart self-consciously. She untaped him and pulled back the diaper. “You’re dry,” she commented, sounding a little surprised. “Well, I didn’t have to go,” he lied, feeling the pressure in his bladder. The truth was that he still didn’t want to appear as though he liked the idea, no matter the “convenience,” and thought he could hold out. “Hmm,” she said doubtfully. “I saw how much you drank at lunch, so I’m not sure I believe you. And we’re not going to save the diaper for reuse anyway, so there’s no point in your bladder being uncomfortable.” She was wiping his penis and testicles, a little more slowly than earlier, but he was grateful to observe that she didn’t seem to be lingering. She was all business, thank goodness. And so far, he’d been able to avoid an erection. He wasn’t sure he could handle that embarrassment. “Up,” she directed, and he obeyed. He felt the cool wetness spread across his buttocks, then invade the cleft between them. As before, he felt it hesitate and poke a little at his anus. He flinched slightly, but then realized she had moved on. But then he felt a sharp pulling from somewhere back behind his testicles. “You know, this has to go,” she mused, staring between his legs. “What?” he asked, somewhat alarmed and confused. “All of this messy hair. It is making it harder to clean. I’d like you to shave it tonight. Everything from here,” and here she indicated his testicles, “on back, should be completely nice and smooth.” He felt the diaper pulled out, and was instructed, “Down.” There was no dry diaper underneath this time when he set his feet back down, knees spread wide, and no powdery smell. She gestured at his pubic hair. “I won’t insist on shaving all of that,” she said, wrapping up the wipes inside the used diaper, “although my personal preference is to keep it much shorter and more neatly trimmed, if you keep it at all. But the front hair is less important for keeping you clean. The hair behind your penis, though, shouldn’t be there tomorrow.” She helped him sit up and looked him directly in the eye, as he had not yet acknowledged her remarks. “Okay? Can I get a ‘Yes, ma’am’ please?” He felt confused. This was her only criticism of his genital area. He hadn’t ever thought about it. It hurt to hear any criticism, of course, and he felt himself wanting to please her. She was so nice when she was happy. But it was weird and embarrassing to talk about. He wasn’t sure she should care, but he obviously wasn’t experienced at changing diapers. “Um, yes, ma’am,” he said distractedly. “Have you ever shaved down there? Do you have a real razor?” “No,” he said. “I have an electric razor.” She threw away the diaper and blue pad. “Well, go out and buy a nice manual razor. They’re not expensive, and I’ll want you to keep yourself nice and smooth down there. It’s your choice, but I think you’ll find the ones marketed to women to be better for this area. “You could use soap, or shaving cream, but you’ll probably want to do your shaving in the shower or the bathtub. You’ll need to stretch the skin, and until you have practiced, go slowly.” She was packing up her laptop and locking it in the cabinet. “Did you hear what I said before? Shall I repeat it? I’d like you to shave the back of your penis, your entire scrotum, and all the hair around your bottom. If you want to keep the hair in front, I guess that’s okay, but cut it nice and short, okay?” He was staring at the diaper cabinet, unable to believe he was having this conversation and not really wanting to engage. She stood watching him, apparently aware of his discomfort, smiling slightly. She turned up the heat. “What do you think? Crop the front short? Or just shave it completely off and be smooth all over?” He was shaken out of his stupor by the realization that she actually expected an answer. “Can…we just not talk about this now? It’s…I’m…I just want to finish my work. May I get dressed?” She smiled. “Of course. I didn’t mean to slow you down. But take care of that hair problem somehow tonight, okay? Say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’” “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, standing up and pulling up his boxers and khakis. She picked up her purse and came over and touched him on his arm. “You were a good boy today. Thanks for helping me to get our work done on time so I can see my family. Your cooperation means a lot to me. I hope it wasn’t too embarrassing for you.” It was, but he liked her smile. He didn’t want to argue with her. It was nice to think of today’s weirdness as something he was doing as a favor to her. “No, no, of course. Happy to help out.” “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, maybe a moment earlier than usual to get you ready, okay?” she asked. “And remember, nice and smooth. Good night!” “Good night,” he said, happy to be done with the conversation. She was exasperatingly direct about things! The embarrassment had taken a toll on him today. He started packing up his things. She walked away, jingling her car keys, very satisfied with her progress today. She had wanted to go further, faster, of course. She had so many ideas and plans, but she had to pace herself, allow him to fall deeper, deeply enough that he wouldn’t be able to get out. But she didn’t want him to be an unwilling victim. Instead, for now, she enjoyed the game of getting him to agree to do more and more embarrassing things, all because she said to do it. It was a little fun seeing his ambivalence and confusion about wanting to please her and yet feeling such obvious and intense humiliation. Being in charge always satisfied her, and she was not surprised to feel just how much sexual pleasure she felt today bossing her doctor around. It would make what she was planning a lot more fun. She had a long list of activities in her imagination, and after today, she was optimistic that she might get to try many of them. Yes, it had been a great day, and she couldn’t wait for tomorrow. She smiled. Chapter 3 He climbed into the hot shower with some apprehension. While he welcomed the relaxing warmth, he did not feel up to the task at hand. He let the water wash over him, thinking about the day he had just put behind him. He had let Julie have her way, rather than confront her at any point along the way. He knew that was stupid. Was he crazy to play along with her? She seemed so capable and smart, and funny, and nice, but the things she was asking him to do were just insane. He had sacrificed a lot to be a doctor, but she was asking him to give up his dignity, and he was finding it very hard to do. While her rationale seemed noble–he would do almost anything for his patients–at no time during his training had anyone ever suggested he avoid the bathroom in favor of a diaper. He hadn’t really ever heard of that before, but she seemed to make it sound relatively normal. Maybe he really had simply been sheltered. Astronauts? Race car drivers? Maybe he should google it to see. He had stopped at a pharmacy on the way home and found a women’s razor and some shaving cream. Thank goodness, no one looked at him strangely. Maybe they assumed he had a wife? He actually didn’t have a problem with shaving himself down there. He knew from his exams of young people that it was common these days, and even expected. But he had never felt comfortable about how exactly to do it. How much hair should he leave? He’d worried that shaving make him seem like he was trying too hard. He hadn’t known up until now. He was happy to have a little guidance from someone, anyone, though it would have been more natural coming from a lover. Instead, it was coming from his employee. And he was fairly sure that very few men shaved themselves for “ease in cleaning” the way he was instructed to. But if she was going to be looking at him there, he didn’t want her to be judging him every time she pulled down his diaper. And if it could make her smile—he loved her smile. He imagined her smiling at him tomorrow when she saw that he had obeyed her, and it made him feel warm inside. As he washed himself, he wondered just how many times she would be actually be seeing him down there. While she hadn’t been specific, she did agree to discuss it tomorrow. What could he say to get her to drop this whole diaper thing? Certainly she had to agree that he had played along, and that they made a good team. His willingness to share her goals could not be doubted, right? They tried it her way, it would be only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt. But nothing that had happened over the last 24 hours had seemed logical or predictable to him. He pointed the water away from his body and sprayed out a tiny bit of shaving lotion. He had trimmed his pubic hair before his shower, so he just needed to shave the hard to reach places. He had never tried this before, and just wanted to be very careful. He remembered what Julie had said, and stretched out his scrotum to make it easier. How did she know about that? He wondered. He supposed that some couples were intimate in different ways, but he had never shaved (or been shaved by) a partner. Well, he hadn’t really had more than a brief partner or two. Medical school and residency weren’t really conducive to a busy social life. He was book smart, but didn’t know much about relationships. Julie had a child, so her past sexual history might be much different. And maybe much more interesting. He slowly worked his way back, spreading his legs awkwardly and craning his neck to see. This might be easier in a bathtub, but he didn’t have one. Still, he was careful, as Julie advised, and managed to finish without cutting himself. He rinsed off and turned off the water. He dried himself and checked himself out in his bathroom mirror. Interesting. He didn’t mind the new look. He ran his fingers over the newly-hairless parts of his body. That felt so foreign, but nice. He could get ready for bed in a few minutes, but he decided to explore the new feel in a little more depth first. It was kind of erotic, wasn’t it, to have shaved himself because a woman asked him to? It felt so nice. He couldn’t help thinking about Julie as he made himself feel very, very good. Chapter 4 The next morning, he made it to work early. This was part of the plan he had come up with overnight to make his day easier. If he was on top of his task list, he might be more likely to persuade Julie to use the bathroom. He had made a point to pick out underwear that didn’t have holes in them: it was weird to have to consider Julie seeing his underpants, but he wanted to make as good an impression as possible. He didn’t have anything to drink for breakfast, and he wasn’t planning to drink anything all morning. The less he needed to pee, the less he needed to be changed. However, he was considering the likelihood that he would need to pee early during lunch so that he could start the afternoon with an empty bladder and a dry diaper. Most of all, he was going to make sure he spent some time discussing alternative arrangements with Julie for the future. Being shy was no excuse not to be assertive about his preferences. He was polishing off the few accumulated tasks from the overnight when Julie walked in. “Good morning!” she chirped happily. “Ready for the day?” “Yep, I guess so,” he replied, trying to sound as cheerful as she was. But his stress at having to play her game was probably showing through his façade. “I’m assuming you mean, ‘yes, ma’am,’” she noted quietly, putting down her purse, her smile fading a little. “Isn’t that right?” He swallowed. If he wanted something from her, it was a bad idea to get off on the wrong foot from the beginning. Why this little bit of protocol was important to her nagged at him a little bit, but he couldn’t dwell on it without potentially annoying her further. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry about that.” She looked back at him, the smile retaking her face. “I thought so. No harm done.” She looked at the clock. “I think we just have time to get you changed before seeing patients. Okay?” He was polite this time. “Yes, ma’am.” She smiled at him as she shut and locked the door. “Ooh, I love it when I can hear your manners! Okay, pants down. Hop up.” As he stood and began fumbling with his pants, she strode over to the cabinet and retrieved a diaper and blue pad. “You had some homework last night. How’d you do?” He waited, pants around his ankles, for her to put the blue pad down. “Okay, I guess.” He sat on the pad and when she raised her eyebrows expectantly, swung around and lay down. He had been satisfied with the job he’d done and thought she would be pleased, but, when it came right down to it now, found himself just as hesitant to expose himself to her as he had been yesterday. She tapped the inside of his knees. “Come on, now. You know better than that,” she chided, apparently not thinking his legs were spread widely enough. He leaned them out, but they wouldn’t go further. “But—I—“ he stammered, unable to move them. She appraised the situation, then nodded. “Ah,” she said, grasping his pants and yanking them down further to his ankles. “You didn’t have your pants down far enough.” With his pants bunched up down at his shoes, he was able to let his legs fall apart completely, giving her the access she wanted to his diaper area. She moved up so that she stood next to him to get a closer look. “Oh,” she said with an impressed look. “You did well. Doesn’t that look nice?” Her hand reached out to his closely trimmed pubic hair, touching it and even caressing it gently. She traced the outline of it. He was initially shocked at the contact. She hadn’t actually touched him before this, except with a baby wipe in her hand. Lying back, he could see her standing above him, arm outstretched, but couldn’t see her hand, which just seemed to be dancing across his pubic area. Suddenly he felt her fingers on his penis, gently stroking that! They moved slowly from the base down to—but not onto—the tip. He gasped, and saw her smile appreciatively. He felt her lift his penis up and run her finger down the underside from the sensitive area down to the base again. He knew it would happen even before he felt it. His penis started to stiffen. She seemed not to notice at first, holding it up with one hand and now moving her other hand to caress his smooth testicles. Wow, he thought. That feels incredible. The lack of any other contact on his body and the gentle minimalist touch on his genitalia made this feel even more exquisite. Her fingers continued their exploration down and back behind his scrotum, and he stopped being aware of anything around him. He missed it when she said, “Up, please,” to him. He did notice when she took her hands away and gave him a light smack on the buttocks. “Excuse me, did we forget since yesterday? Do you remember what ‘up’ means?” His eyes snapped open at the gentle smack to his bottom. He quickly lifted his hips and grabbed his knees, pulling them towards his head and as far apart as possible. He was rewarded with a “That’s it, ooh, smooth.” She cooed as her hand found him again, touching his scrotum, and making its way toward his anus. He stopped breathing as she traced a little circle around it slowly, then continued up his cleft toward his back. Suddenly he felt both hands across his buttocks, again caressing and circling the area. “Now, that is MUCH better than yesterday. There are a few little hairs you might have missed, but you did great for a first try.” He noticed her speaking to him in a tone that would have been more appropriate for a child than an adult, but didn’t mind. He just wanted her touching him again. But then he felt the familiar soft thick presence of the diaper under him. “Down,” she said. Oh, crap. He thought. He was hard as a rock, and his folded legs were concealing it. He hesitated obeying her, wondering how he could avoid showing himself to her in this state. Maybe he could delay for a moment? If he put his legs down now, there would be no way she could miss— “Ow!” he yelled, as he felt a sharp smack–much harder this time–on his bottom. He involuntarily released his knees in defense, and his legs straightened to protect himself. “When I ask you to do something, I expect you to listen. That is the second time you…” She trailed off when she saw his stiff penis bobbing up and down. He tried to cover himself with his hands, pulling his knees together as well. To his horror, he saw her break into a wide smile. “Now that makes my day. I was starting to think you didn’t like me. It’s quite a compliment, you know?” He remained huddled, covering himself as best he could. She walked over to the refrigerator that held the vaccines, momentarily turning her back to him. “I know it has a mind of its own. I’m familiar with the bodies of boys. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.” She pulled something out and turned back to him. “However, it does present a little bit of a problem for your diaper, of course. We need a good seal, and your peepee can’t be pointed up like that, or we’ll get some awkward leakage later. So we need some way to get rid of that little stiffy.” She held out one hand and touched his knees, still clenched together desperately. “These knees are really going to get you in trouble with me, I can tell. I don’t want to have to tell you again to spread them wide open,” she told him, the smile gone. “NOW.” Slowly, he opened his knees but kept his hands inefficiently cupped around his engorged penis. “That’s better,” she said. “Now, your hands need to find a better place to be. How about behind your head?” He hesitated. This was humiliating. She slapped his hands sharply. “We don’t have time for this,” she said. “If you want to have time for me to change you AT ALL today, let’s get going.” He reluctantly released his penis and put his hands behind his head. There was a trace of a smirk on her face which she apparently was trying to hide. He closed his eyes in shame. But they flew open wide again when he felt something shockingly cold over his groin. Gasping, he looked down, seeing her holding an ice pack to his penis. It was large, and she had wrapped it around it, allowing it to cover his testicles and inner thighs as well. “Holy shit!” he sputtered. “That’s too much!” His hands became unclasped from behind his head, but he stopped them from interfering, sensing that was too much. He glanced at her face, and caught a very stern look he had only seen on his mother’s face. “Hands,” was all she said, her voice as cold as the ice pack. Slowly, he put them back. Her face relaxed a little, but she kept eye contact, forcing him to drop his eyes and finally close them in defeat. His groin was starting to feel numb now. He pretended he was somewhere else. “I don’t like cursing,” she told him sternly. Then, more to herself, “If it becomes a problem, maybe we’ll have to see how you like a little mouth-soaping.” His eyes widened as her words brought him back to reality. He felt like she had to be kidding, but her expression was totally serious. And he was learning to take her seriously. How had he gotten himself into this nightmare? He closed his eyes again. After another minute, he heard the ice rattle and looked down to see that the pack was gone. She was turning back to the refrigerator. He was numb enough that he couldn’t have felt it. He lifted his head and noticed that his penis was limp again, pale white, and shrunken as if he were a little boy. “That will make things easier,” she commented. She turned back, grabbed a towel, and brusquely patted him dry, the condensation having dampened the skin. She sprinkled some baby powder over him and pulled the diaper up tightly, taping him securely, then patted him over his penis, through the diaper. “Ok, mission accomplished, despite the detour. You can get dressed.” He stood and rapidly pulled his pants up. She cleared her throat. “Did you have something you wanted to say to me?” She was suddenly a stickler for manners, apparently. “Thank you.” She raised her eyebrows. “…Ma’am,” he added quickly. This seemed to satisfy her, and she turned to unlock the door. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot.” She went to her purse, pulling out a tall cup with a lid and a hard straw. He saw that it was colored baby blue and had teddy bears on it. “I saw that you were a little dehydrated yesterday.” His confusion must have registered on his face. She explained, “The pee in your diaper was too dark yellow. As you know, it ought to be nearly clear. It is easy to fall behind on your hydration during a busy day, and I don’t want our…arrangement,” and here she looked at his padded diaper area, “to discourage hydration. That could influence your health negatively, after all.” She smiled. He thought it seemed a little mischievous. “So I vow to help you remember to drink throughout the day.” He stared at the cup, which appeared to be full. “It’s water. Sorry if the cup looks a little young for your age, but it’s all I had at home. How about if we say that you should have this drunk by 10am? We can do another by the time you start in the afternoon, and a third by 3pm. That should keep your kidneys working. We’re a team! And I’ll keep you healthy.” His heart sank. He didn’t want to refuse her. She seemed to have a temper today. But she was going to force him to wet his diaper frequently today. “Of course, if your urine is still too dark, we can adjust how often you have to empty it.” The door was open now, and she patted his puffy behind on her way out to get the first patient. “Time for work!” Chapter 5 It was hard for him to focus on anything other than the memory of her touch on his newly shaven body. He couldn’t stop thinking about her smile at his erection, and her gentle, sensitive fingers. Of course, that made him hard all over again, which was extremely awkward. Every time he passed Julie or talked to her in the workroom, she flashed a little smile that seemed designed to set him off again. It was like she knew just what she was doing to him. It was not overtly flirtatious, on the surface being completely professional, but it was fairly close to the line. He could barely feel pressure through his diaper, but that didn’t keep him from trying to put some surreptitious pressure on himself when he could. Ordinarily, in this situation, he might excuse himself and head to the bathroom for just a few minutes to “take care of” the situation, but that was now apparently off the table. He felt frustrated, and comforted himself thinking about how he would be able to make himself more comfortable after work. But that seemed like a long way off. At 9:30, Julie caught him in between rooms, teddy bear cup in hand. She didn’t say anything, but held it out to him expectantly. It was still full. He reluctantly accepted it and sipped a little, handing it back with a very small smile. “Thanks,” he said halfheartedly. She didn’t accept it back. “Nice try,” she said, smirking. “Drink up!” He set his laptop down, and tried not to glare at her. He stood in the hall, sucking water through the straw, until he sucked air. At this point, she beamed, whispering, “Good boy! I’ll see you later,” looking at his diaper meaningfully. He shook his head and went in with his next patient. Within an hour, his bladder was begging for relief. He was able to hold off until 11, but decided to pee a little into his diaper to make himself comfortable enough to finish the morning. He walked nonchalantly into the work room, pretending to look at a chart. He had just about relaxed enough to start peeing when Julie entered. Seeing him there, she strode over and cupped his crotch. “Nothing yet, huh? Is that why you’re back here? Did you duck in here to pee in your diaper?” He reddened. He had hoped for some privacy. “I do have to go, but…I can wait if you need something.” She smiled a little. “Oh, no, I don’t need anything.” She stood silently, a little knowing smile playing across her face. He glanced around, nervously. “Is there a reason you like to be here for this? It’s a little weird. Not to mention that it makes it harder to go…” She folded her arms. “I’m not sure why it should bother you. It is a natural bodily process, we’re both medical professionals. Also, one of the principal benefits of your diaper is that you can go right in public. Seems like most people would LOVE that feature. So why not take advantage of that?” He still looked dubious, but she seemed like a lawyer who had wrapped up a case. He had always been shy about the bathroom; he even hesitated using urinals in a crowded men’s room. Wouldn’t most people feel awkward in this situation? Didn’t he have a right to pee in private? “I really like to be alone sometimes. Would you mind waiting for me outside?” She studied him. “Yes, I mind. You gave up the right to privacy. You proved you can’t be trusted in the potty by yourself. You’ve lost your potty privileges. So, I don’t feel any need to honor your dignity by having to inconvenience myself so you can be alone.” She paused. “And…I have to admit that I enjoy your embarrassment a little bit. It seems so silly to be hung up about peeing in front of me, so I feel like we should get you past that. Why not today?” Her seemingly rational and unsympathetic approach exasperated him, as did her willingness to talk about things that should be private. If there was anything that might be worse than peeing in front of her, it would be talking about his bathroom functions. She seemed to recognize this, and even enjoy it. But the joy she was taking seemed friendly rather than malicious. She really did seem interested in helping him, even as she forced him to do things that were embarrassing. So he closed his eyes as he had done before and concentrated on relieving himself, pretending he was alone. He was able, after a moment, to relax enough to pee, and he drained some of his bladder. He stopped himself before he was done, however, because he didn’t want to be so wet that he might leak. He opened his eyes, expecting that she might have left again. But this time she was still standing in front of him, arms folded, eyebrows raised, with eyes that shifted between his face and his diaper. When she saw his eyes open, she again stepped forward and felt the full warm diaper. She lifted and squeezed gently, apparently gauging the product of his performance. Then she smiled, and patted him on the bottom. “Good work! That wasn’t so hard, was it? We’ll take care of that in a little while. You’re fine for a bit. Better get back to work for now.” And she turned on her heel and left before he had the chance to argue. He stared after her blankly. She didn’t seem upset, just unmotivated to change his diaper. There was a patient waiting. Maybe she wanted to be caught up first. He tried to ignore the full warm bulk between his legs, and focus on his work. He moved slowly, sat carefully, and felt the memorable squishing sensation. He was still sure he couldn’t possibly get used to that. But he had a little more confidence that he could work with it. He made sure he was efficient, and after 2 more appointments, he found Julie waiting in the hall for him. She didn’t say anything, just turned and walked down the short hall toward the workroom. He waddled after her quickly, aware of his rustling, feeling the wet diaper shift with each step. She locked the door after him, and he heard the familiar, “Pants down, hop up!” He didn’t hesitate. She was quick this time, which was good. This time, even without her fingers actively touching him directly, except with the wipe, he felt himself start to stiffen. The last encounter had sexualized the whole thing for him, and his waning embarrassment unfortunately left him more able to focus on the sensations and situation. She seemed to realize the possibility, and efficiently got a dry diaper taped on him quickly. He gratefully pulled his pants up, noting that less than a minute had elapsed. She again patted his bottom as she sent him back to work. He did notice that his teddy bear cup appeared to be full again, but she wasn’t insisting on draining it yet, so he didn’t ask. But by the time his morning was over, she greeted him with it, sending him on the way to lunch with a full cup of water. He actually didn’t mind, because he was planning on trying to wet his diaper early enough that she would change it before the afternoon started. If he had to play this game, he was going to play it smart. He drained the cup at the beginning of the meal, then managed to wet himself surreptitiously while standing in the lunchroom listening to others talk. Wetting himself right in front of other people made him nervous—could they tell? It felt so visible, but no one around him seemed to notice or care. The doctors ate together, often pestered by pharmaceutical representatives, while the nurses ate with the rest of the staff in another, larger room. But everyone retrieved their lunch together and threw their trash out in the same place, and he wasn’t surprised, as he squeezed the last few drops into his diaper, to see Julie watching him out of the corner of his eye. How did she always know? “New cup today?” One of his colleagues pointed at the teddy bear design as they sat down to eat. “Cute.” He blushed. “It’s Julie’s, but she’s letting me borrow it.” His colleague nodded. “Whatever works, I guess. You guys finished a little early today. Light schedule?” He shook his head. “Well, not really. Maybe easier patients?” But he suspected that they had just been particularly efficient that morning. Teamwork could really help the day fly by. Chapter 6 He sloshed back to the workroom to work on his task list on the computer, knowing that he’d be more likely to be changed promptly if there was not a backlog of work. He whittled it down nicely over the next 15 minutes, so that when Julie walked through the door, he only had a call to return to someone who wasn’t home. She walked up behind him and patted him on the shoulder. “Look who’s been busy!” she said, impressed. “Amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it.” He turned his head to meet her gaze. She winked knowingly. “Looks like you have a minute to get more comfortable. Interested?” He nodded. “Yes, please. I’m—“ He stopped self-consciously. “Damp? Uncomfortable? Soaked?” she prodded, nodding. “Why don’t we take care of that?” She went to lock the door. He stood up and undid his belt. She smiled at how far he’d come. Had it really only been yesterday that she had had to threaten him to pull his pants down? She retrieved a dry diaper. She’d left a blue pad, the wipes, and the baby powder at what had become their changing table. It wasn’t that she wanted others to know about the situation, but she also wasn’t opposed to the idea. Sooner or later, the staff would figure out that he was wearing diapers. She hadn’t yet figured out how they would explain that, but assumed it would be a urological explanation, like maybe he had bladder or prostate issues. Eventually, having him outed would make things easier. But he wasn’t sure his ego could take it yet. Slow and steady wins the race. This race was definitely on, and it looked like she was winning. He had his pants down and was up on the table, lying back, legs stretched widely apart. She untaped his diaper and pulled it down, breathing in the familiar mix of urine and powder that she liked so much. The diaper was indeed soaked, and this also made her happy. He had settled in nicely to following her rules, which certainly boded well for the future. It had been nothing more than pure luck, really, that they had been paired upon her hiring, but there was nothing coincidental about where they were today. She had immediately recognized his submissive nature in the way he dropped his eyes when they talked. He was socially a little shy in an appealing way. She had gently extended some work-appropriate flirtation, and his reaction to these very bland comments had confirmed both his social inexperience and receptiveness to her leadership. He might be smart and educated, but that didn’t mean he knew his way around dating or sex. It hadn’t taken long for her to start daydreaming about him. Julie was in her late twenties, old enough to have a failed marriage but young enough to retain a healthy interest in having another. Her two young children took a lot of energy, and she could see the advantage of having a man in her life. But this time, it would have to be on her terms. And she had decided firmly on her terms at about the same time she had kicked her ex-husband out of her house and life. She had taken two other jobs since her kids were born, one at a different doctor’s office. There were several young doctors, and she realized she shared plenty in common with these men, who were generally smart and professional. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could find someone she could build a relationship with, the way she wanted it? When she couldn’t get the hours she needed to pay her rent, she first worked at a nursing home, and still had friends there. She generally didn’t like the hours, so she had switched back to an outpatient clinic. She would sometimes cover her friends’ shifts for extra money, however. This job was definitely the best she had found. She had lucked into finding a gentle, smart, and apparently submissive young doctor–who might turn out to be a good partner. It seemed too good to be true, and she knew she might never get another opportunity like this one. So she had planned her ambush, thought through what might motivate him, and had a very careful blueprint for drawing him into her life. The plan made good use of her willingness to embarrass him into cooperating. She would motivate him by appealing to his desire to help her, and to help his patients. She wasn’t afraid to shame or bully him if needed, but so far she hadn’t needed to resort to that. She felt on solid footing now. He’d accepted her as being in charge, and seemed to respond well to her mommy’s-the-boss repertoire. He was unaccustomed to being subservient, but by nature seemed to be a natural. He just needed a crash course in what she expected. She felt strongly that if she handled it right, she could indoctrinate him any way she chose. She just needed the right balance of being stern and kind, and she needed to keep him focused on the benefits of obeying her. She pulled out a baby wipe. Chapter 7 He lay obediently with his feet down and knees far apart, exposing himself to Julie as she shocked his pubic skin with her cold wipe. She brought it over his shortened hair, then grasped his penis and efficiently wrapped her fingers and thumb around it, pulling down toward the tip quickly. She cupped and wiped his scrotum, then quietly commanded, “Up.” He raised his legs as he thought about how absurd this situation was. When he came to work yesterday, he would never have believed any of this. But, odd as it sounded, he was starting to trust Julie. Even though she had been–what was the word? stern?–with him yesterday, everything she had done since then had been reassuring. She kept emphasizing efficiency and service to patients. He believed strongly in these things, and had now seen that the two of them, working together, were a very good team. She had always seemed bright, witty, and compassionate, but the last 24 hours had seen her up her game with their patients. It was almost worth it. But wait. Surely it wasn’t completely worth it. Lying naked in front of her was absolutely humiliating, he thought, as she threw away the first wipe and retrieved another fresh one, which—whew!—was cold again, and drew it across his bottom. He had never been outgoing, and she was the kind of person who befuddled him. She was fearless and direct. She did not seem to care about his embarrassment. But Julie also seemed to be so focused on working together for a cause he could understand, and she wasn’t making fun of his nakedness or of his acquiescence. He had certainly met women who had been unimpressed with his shyness and trouble making small talk. Some early disasters with girls had left him tentative and quiet. He counted himself lucky to have had a serious girlfriend in college and another in medical school. They had been even less outgoing than he, and he’d at least had some sexual experience. But women like Julie, while intriguing to him, scared him and left him uncertain. Now, as she brought the wipe down his crack toward his anus, he wouldn’t know how to confront her about the bizarreness of how she was treating him. He felt her poke his anus, twisting the wipe. This didn’t hurt, but he didn’t understand why she did it. Maybe if he asked nicely, she would tell him, or (preferably) stop. After this came the cool sprinkle of the baby powder, with the scent eventually wafting up. Then the new diaper slipped under his bottom, and the direction, “Down.” The new crinkly bulk pulled up over him, and taped down tightly. “Okay, I’ll go check to see if there is a patient waiting.” He sat up, legs hanging off the side of the table, gathered his courage, and asked his question. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” Her face became guarded for an instant, then cleared. “No, of course not. What is it, sweetie?” “Sweetie” was nice, he thought at first blush. He’d have to consider that, but not now. “Why do you do that poking thing every time?” He couldn’t meet her gaze, embarrassed at having to ask the question at all. While he hated talking about anything diaper- or bathroom-related, he disliked the anal probing (that’s what it was, right?) even more. “What poking?” She seemed genuinely confused, then said, “Oh, you mean when I’m cleaning your bottom?” He nodded, staring at the floor. He heard her say, “I can’t hear your manners.” He looked up, then realized what she meant. “Yes. Yes, ma’am.” She smiled brightly. “That’s much better. I love it when you’re polite.” She came back over and sat next to him. He became aware of the fact that he had failed to pull up his pants. He was sitting next to her with his pants and boxers down around his ankles, a puffy diaper showing under his shirttail. But this didn’t seem like the right time to remedy that. It would have to wait. At the same time, it made their conversation a little awkward, since it seemed to make her the adult. It was hard to plead for his dignity when he was happy sitting in just a diaper. “Well,” she said, knitting her brow, apparently deciding how to address his question. “That is a good question. I wasn’t going to bring up the topic with you so soon, but since you’ve asked, we should discuss it.” She scooted a little away on the table and then turned to face him, best she could. “The first time, yesterday, it was just habit. As you know, I have two little boys, both of whom are still in diapers. The older one is just getting interested in the potty. “I change them the same way I change you, of course, and cleaning their bottoms is just a part of that. An important part of that, wouldn’t you agree? Nobody likes a dirty bottom,” she said, as if it was a religious tenet of some common faith they shared. “So yesterday, I just did to you what I usually do for them, just to make sure their bottoms are clean. “I always wipe them, then check the wipe to see if it is clean. You know, to see if they need more attention down there. You can imagine my surprise yesterday, when I checked the wipe after cleaning your bottom, the wipe came away a little dirty. Apparently you don’t wipe enough after you poop.” He sat, shocked, and didn’t know how to respond. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, because I imagine it’s something most people would be sensitive about, so I wasn’t going to bring it up. But…you asked…” Julie was watching his face, monitoring his reaction. “It’s not that big a deal to me, you understand. I’ve generally noticed that men, male patients, tend not to pay as much attention to wiping, so I wasn’t surprised. But you’re welcome to work on that a little bit if you want.” She hopped up. “If you look clean for a few days in a row, maybe I’ll just do spot checks,” she said, smiling, trying unsuccessfully to meet his eyes, which were firmly staring at the floor. “I’m sure you want to be clean, and I want that, too. I’ll quit poking your bottom once you show me you can clean yourself up to my standards. Deal?” His cheeks burned, unable to believe they were talking about this most basic of bathroom habits. His stunned silence was interrupted by her hand on his chin, lifting his face until he couldn’t help but look in her eyes. He expected them to be critical, disgusted, accusatory. But they weren’t. Julie’s eyes were warm and happy. Now that he was looking into them, he couldn’t remember what she had asked. “Deal?” she said again, amused at his distraction. “Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically, unsure at first what he had just agreed to. But she seemed to want him to agree. His answer appeared to make her happy, so that was good. “That’s my good boy,” she said, releasing his chin and his gaze, and looking down at him. He was still sitting in his diaper with his pants around his ankles. “Now you’d better get your pants pulled up so I can open the door. We’ll have a patient waiting, I expect.” He hadn’t realized he was still half undressed. He jumped off the exam table and pulled up his pants, hurriedly trying to zip and buckle himself. She smiled fondly at his hurried efforts, then disappeared to start the afternoon. He didn’t really have time to ponder her comments, as they were a little behind due to his question. By 2:30, however, he really needed to pee, and found a full teddy bear cup at his work station in between patients. He wet himself nearly without thinking as he downed the cup under her approving eyes. When she turned away immediately to busy herself with a different task, he understood that it wasn’t time to be changed yet. But he worked quickly, and was rewarded with Julie waiting outside a patient room 30 minutes later. She gave him a “follow me” look he had learned to recognize, and obediently did so. The familiar, “Pants down, hop up!” led to a quick dry diaper, and he was able to finish the afternoon quickly. Chapter 8 At the end of the day, he had only a few tasks to complete on his computer and a single phone call to make. He was amazed, until he realized that not only had he been more efficient, but Julie had, too. She had handled more of his work than he was used to, and as a result, they didn’t have much to do after the patients had gone. That was a nice change. “Would you like to get out of that wet diaper?” she asked, as she watched him finish a final note documenting a phone call. He was confused. “What?” “Your diaper is wet. It’s okay to get you cleaned up and ready for home.” She had that amused look again. He hadn’t realized that he was sitting in a wet diaper. If he thought back, of course, he could remember wetting it, but maybe he had apparently gotten a little used to the sensation. That didn’t seem like a good sign. It reminded him of something. “Yes, please,” he said, getting up and unbuckling his pants. She had the door locked. “Ooh, I like your manners.” She came over and helped him lie down. He decided that if she was happy, he should ask his question now. “Umm…may I ask another question?” She was untaping his diaper and pulling it down. Her cold wipe came out. “Of course, sweetheart,” she cooed. He felt the cool sensation across his pubic area, then down, down, encircling his penis. And gently wiping, and wiping…was she lingering a little? He felt himself stiffen quickly. Uh-oh. His hands instinctively flew down to cover himself. “Ah—no hands,” she said, lightly smacking his hands. Embarrassed, but mindful of staying on her good side—he’d need that in a moment, he reluctantly moved his arms back up above his head. She could see what was happening, and apparently either didn’t mind, or—more likely, given her reaction—had intended it. What did that mean?! he wondered, growing anxious. It was wrong to let her touch him, at least like this. But he had let her do it before, so correcting her would be awkward, and he surely didn’t want to argue right before negotiating. He gulped and tried to think about anything else other than his growing excitement. That was turning out to be impossible. Her touch felt amazing! “What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowed in mock concern. Her fingers were not leaving his penis. He felt them tickle him a little, running up and down the shaft, touching under the head. No one had ever gently teased him this way, and it felt so nice. He was lost in the sensation. What was she asking him? “Umm…” “Your question. What can I answer for you?” She had him at full erection now, and gently touched him to keep his attention, but not so much as to stimulate him any closer to orgasm. Her touch was tender but almost teasing, not taking him so far that he felt he might lose control. He wondered idly if she might have done this before. He shook his head and tried to focus. “Oh, um, right. Well, yesterday, I asked when we could be done. You know, with the, um,” he looked at the cabinet and down toward her hands. “What?” she said casually, still lightly caressing him. She was obviously acutely aware of the effect she was having on him. She might have been enjoying it, but she kept a poker face. He was both having trouble focusing, but was also embarrassed to say the word. “You know, if I could be done wearing the, um…” “You can say the word diaper, you know,” she said, smiling at him. “That’s what it’s called.” “Ok,” he said, blushing. She stopped touching him for a moment. “Well, go ahead. Say the word.” He didn’t like to admit that he’d let her diaper him. But she was going to force him to say it. “Well, yesterday, you said I had to wear the…diapers…through today.” He again felt her warm hands stroke him softly. “And then we could talk about…ooh!” he gasped, as she applied the wipe to his testicles, gently stroking them now in turn. “About stopping. So…can we?” “Stop?” she asked, drawing her hands away from him abruptly. He almost instinctively raised his hips to find her again. “Do you…want to? Stop?” She looked down at him with a knowing smile. He sighed, aware that she seemed to be referring to her hands on his body. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about that. It definitely crossed a professional boundary, but her attitude seemed more flirtatious than hungry and sexual. In this position, with her hands lightly touching him there, he couldn’t really think rationally. He really wanted her touch to continue. It was so soft and nice. He closed his eyes to concentrate, but this kept him from being able to see her eyes. Her eyes were pretty; he’d never really noticed before. “I couldn’t hear you.” She spoke softly. He cleared his throat. His penis throbbed, bobbing in the air. He could imagine how ridiculous it looked, but it was begging for her touch. “I’d really like to stop wearing a diaper. You know, go back to using the bathroom.” “Mmm…because you don’t like it?” She laughed, not unkindly. “I can see that you really don’t enjoy it.” He opened his eyes briefly to see that she was smiling playfully at him. “You…seem to have become more comfortable with the situation.” She reached out and touched him again gently, making him gasp. “It’s just that I don’t think it’s professional for a doctor to wear a diaper, and—“ She grasped his penis firmly, and interrupted him. “We’ve been through this. No one can tell you are wearing a diaper, and we both decided that it is far more professional to be on-time and efficient than to be spending endless time in the bathroom, inconveniencing patients, staff, and me. This is truly a perfect solution. You’ve kept your patients waiting much less, and they are appreciative. They’ve told me so.” He couldn’t really look into her eyes and concentrate at the same time. She relaxed her grip on his penis, allowing her hand to slip gently up and down its shaft. He started breathing harder, and could hear her cooing, “You are thriving, much more efficient than you were before. And we are an awesome team. Working together, you’ve finished earlier and had more free time, AND kept patients and staff happier.” She stopped stroking, again holding his penis firmly, drawing his gaze to her face. “This arrangement WORKS, and you know it. The way we are working, you could even see an additional 2 or 3 patients per day, which would be pure profit, if I understand how it works. It seems like this”—and here she tugged on the wet diaper still tucked under his bottom—“is a small price to pay to work so well.” He swallowed. She could see his will wavering. Almost there… She moved in for the kill. She started stroking his lower belly, just above his neatly shaved pubic hair. “Do you think we are working well together?” He nodded, staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t hear your manners,” she corrected gently. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured grudgingly. “Have we finished earlier these two days?” He paused just a moment before admitting, “Yes, ma’am.” She looked down briefly at his stiff penis, bobbing in the air near her hand. “Do you think I have handled this…potentially embarrassing…situation professionally?” He knew that she had had plenty of opportunities to embarrass him, but had not. “Yes, ma’am.” Except for this…wonderful…touching… “So at this point, do you think I have earned your trust?” Here she stopped touching him, and waited for him to look at her. “Yes, ma’am.” He certainly couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t understand her very well, but he had started to trust her. She smiled at him kindly as she took him in her hand again, stroking slowly. “Then my opinion is that we shouldn’t try to fix something that isn’t broken. I know it was jarring to try something new, but it is clearly working really well for us. So this time let’s commit to continuing for another week. It will give us more time to decide that these two days have not been a fluke. But I don’t think it IS a fluke. I’m so confident that I’ll promise to quit this business if you don’t also think our teamwork is flourishing after another week. That sounds reasonable, right?” Numbly, he nodded and saw her eyebrows rise briefly before quickly saying, “Yes, ma’am.” Her voice was mesmerizing, her touch transformative. Truthfully, of course, he might have said anything to make her happy when her hands were so close to him. But there was also a deeper part of him, which he was only vaguely aware of, that felt more content and cared-for over the last few days than he had in a long time. He sighed, embarrassed by this strange arrangement, but not completely unhappy with it. She was nodding and smiling. She patted his penis gently, and said, “Then let’s put that away for now.” She wrinkled her eyebrows, noting that it might be difficult to tuck him in. She wiped his bottom, shook a little more powder on him, then pressed his penis up to his belly and pulled his boxers up over it. “That will have to do for now, I suppose. Those things can be so troublesome,” she murmured to herself, though she was also thinking how easy “those things” made getting what she wanted. “Ok, sit up!” His face flushed, breathing a little heavily, he paused a second, then nodded and sat up. That was an abrupt and unwelcome end to what he had presumed would be a bit more climactic. But Julie was all business again, so while he briefly considered protesting, he suspected it wouldn’t make a difference, and could wind up making him seem pathetic. Instead, he should be professional. He took a deep breath and stood up. He stared down and noticed that his boxers tented out in front of him. She glanced over at him, smiling a bit at his predicament, then went to the sink to wash her hands. He leaned over quickly and pulled up his khakis, working at getting them fastened over his erection. Once he had, he looked more presentable. “Ok, well, thanks for all your work today…as usual. It was…a good day,” he said awkwardly, trying to regain his dignity. He started gathering up his things, putting away his laptop and mouse. She went to her purse. She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, it was,” she said, glancing up at him. “It certainly was. Thank you for being so considerate to me. I can’t tell you how much it means to be done so early and able to see my little ones.” He walked her out, grateful that he was finally dressed normally and talking to her like he might any other staff member. This felt like a more appropriate work situation, surely, than being diapered or naked in her presence. It was a relief. As they walked the short distance to their cars, which were parked at the far end of the practice’s parking lot, Julie said, “My mother takes care of the kids during the day. But she must also see to my dad as well, so I like to relieve her as soon as I can. After a day with the kids, she’ll be happy to see me so early!” She reached her car and paused for a moment. She suddenly leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “You’re our hero, you know!” He nodded, surprised. “Well, I’m glad it worked out so well.” He realized he was blushing as he unlocked his car. He was flattered and touched, but didn’t know what else to say. “See you tomorrow?” She smiled. “You bet. Thanks again for being so thoughtful. I think we make a great team! Have a nice evening.” She got into her car, and thought more about how this relationship was going. He seemed more and more receptive to her being in charge. That opened up all sorts of possibilities. Julie liked being in charge. She had been drawn to dominance in her relationships from a young age. Controlling the supposedly stronger gender had always held appeal, and she had enjoyed this challenge while dating during nursing school. She grew used to exercising her bossy skills to get what she wanted–and needed. Oddly to her, one boy even seemed attracted to being humiliated, and she learned she didn’t mind giving him what he wanted. She learned that she had a talent for sensing tentativeness, and her comfort with confrontation seemed to put her in the driver’s seat more often than she would have expected. Her only lapse, ironically, had been her marriage, and it had only reinforced her need to control her relationships. Confused by societal expectations, she had married a man who had projected strength and confidence. She had assumed he was the kind of meat-and-potatoes man that women should marry, and had assumed she could change what she didn’t like. But he was emotionally distant. She was used to being able to lead her partners, either overtly or through more subtle manipulation. But he seemed immune for some reason. He just didn’t care. She had two children in rapid succession, and held out hope that this would draw him into their relationship, or that he would grow up. But he actually became more distant after their second son, and she decided she would rather raise her kids alone than remain married in name only. He was surprised, but later seemed relieved, when she kicked him out of their 2-bedroom apartment without asking for more than the lease in return. She hadn’t seen him since. And while it was jarring to find she had so misjudged that relationship, it taught her a lot about what was right for her. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. If she ever married again, she’d need to be in charge from the beginning. She pulled out her phone. As he got into his own car, he could distantly hear her conversation. “Yes, Mom. I’m on my way. I know! It was a good day! See you soon…” As he drove, he thought about the day. And about Julie. She was lovely and nice. Her hands were strong and confident, but felt very gentle and loving. That was going to be hard to forget. He could feel himself getting hard all over again, and he reached down to adjust himself. She was such an alluring mix of sexy and smart, but her insistence on his wearing a diaper was just weird. Wasn’t it? He thought so, but she could make it sound almost normal. The way she talked to him, it would have felt rude if to have refused. And there was a part of him that wanted to make her happy. Her smile was so pretty, and she seemed to be so happy over the last day or two. It was a little weird, but he was almost willing to do anything to see her smile. He squirmed, ready to be home and attend to himself. He thought he knew whose face he was going to be imagining tonight. Chapter 9 Despite how silly he inevitably felt allowing her to diaper him over the next week, he couldn’t deny that work was more fun. He had never felt more in sync with a nurse. She seemed to anticipate every need he had, both professionally and personally. She knew when a patient would need a test, and often had the details settled by the time he came out of a room. He was amazed at how in tune she had quickly become with his bladder habits. He tried to relieve himself out of her sight during his little “down” moments, but he often would glance around afterward, his diaper feeling newly warm, and would see her watching him pleasantly. Then she would busy herself with her work, making no move to change him until they had a break together. He started to relax and trust her judgment about that. His diaper had not leaked into his pants even once. She seemed to have a knack for timing his diaper changes. It was true that she was also the one setting out his water for him. Some days, he noticed, he was offered water more often than others. As he was zipping up his pants after a change one day, he asked her why. “Are you…still, um, keeping some sort of eye on my…hydration?” She smiled a little as she rolled up and taped the warm wet diaper he had been wearing. “Your wet diapers actually tell me a lot. I still keep a close eye on the color, judging just how wet they are and how yellow they look.” She tossed the diaper into the diaper disposal bin she had recently brought into the office for this purpose, she commented, “I want to keep my doctor healthy, you know.” She fondly patted him on his padded behind. He blushed, thinking about how she knew personal things about him that he had not even been aware of. Should he be creeped out by this invasion of privacy? He didn’t feel that way. He realized he felt a little touched, and even reassured by this gentle supervision. She was looking out for him. It had been quite a while since someone had been on his side, helping him. It felt warm and nice, he thought. As he thought about it, he realized that it felt maternal. Julie had assumed that type of role quite naturally. The nice thing was that she didn’t make him feel inferior or less like a man about surrendering that control. She didn’t make fun of him for wearing a diaper, or letting her clean him. She was just very direct and honest. Once he had adjusted to it, he could almost imagine it was normal. It was kind of nice sharing his day so intimately with someone, and not having to worry about mundane things like keeping hydrated or clean. She was a blessing. Like a mother, however, she did occasionally nag him. Nothing he didn’t deserve, though, he admitted to himself. There had been days he hadn’t shaved himself, and of course she noticed. She spent more time looking at his private area than he did, after all. “What is this?” she might ask as she brushed his stubble with a cocked eyebrow. “This isn’t the clean-shaven boy I know,” or “I like you so much better when you’re smooth,” or “Somebody hasn’t been doing his homework.” She was gentle, but firm. She was nice, but insistent. He knew where he stood, and accepted that shaving was important to her. He found himself wanting to feel nice under her hands. He liked the brief smile she had when she touched his smooth, shaven skin. And wouldn’t she usually spend just a few extra seconds touching him? It seemed so, and that was worth the effort. He wasn’t exactly getting used to that one finger she used when she cleaned him, though. It always found its way into his bottom. She did it every single time she changed him. It no longer surprised him, of course, but still didn’t feel natural or comfortable. He had started being more careful wiping himself in the bathroom, but her actions seemed to indicate that she wasn’t quite satisfied with him. Well, he wasn’t really sure what to do about that. He even googled, “how to wipe properly” to make sure he wasn’t supposed to stick the toilet paper inside, but nobody seemed to recommend that. So there didn’t seem to be anything else he could do to convince her he was doing an adequate job. And he decided that at this point, he didn’t want to have another conversation about it. Talks with her were so embarrassing! So even if he didn’t like it, he didn’t complain again. When she asked him to lift his legs, he would start to tense up, squeezing his anus closed in protest. But it didn’t matter. Her finger, wrapped with a cold wet wipe, still found its way inside him. It didn’t linger, just in and out. But he felt embarrassed to be invaded there. He never really wanted to look her in the eyes for a few minutes afterward. Julie seemed to sense this, however, and often tried to engage him either during the process or immediately afterward, calling him on his reticence if he didn’t answer right away. She seemed to be trying to get him past his embarrassment, though he wasn’t sure why she cared. He wished she would just leave his bottom alone. He’d mostly gotten past peeing in his diaper in front of her, but…there were some things that were just too private. But usually, her hands felt great. During the day, she was generally all business. She changed and cleaned him faster than he could pee and wash his hands on his own in the old days. At the end of the day, though, often amid conversation, her hands would slow down, gently caressing him with a wipe. These cleanings would last long enough that the wipe would warm up and feel so, so good. Her hands would linger everywhere, from his shaved pubic area, to his testicles, to the cleft between his cheek, and to the area right around his bottom. And once he realized that this last change was more of a leisurely and pleasurable event, he began to look forward to it. When she untaped him as he lay back on the table, his erection would spring forth, usually drawing a knowing smile from her. And she didn’t neglect his penis, either. She made sure to clean it carefully and thoroughly, deliberately stroking him. He stopped trying to hide his excitement—how could he? And she seemed to enjoy pleasuring him almost as much as he did. But she never brought him all the way to orgasm. He was not sure why, but she clearly had no interest in going that far. She would start stroking him faster and faster, gripping more firmly, until his breathing began to get more ragged and fast. But whenever he thought that today might be the day, she would stop or pause, leaving him waiting and hoping. After a moment, she might turn and dispose of the wet diaper she had removed, or she might return to stroking him. She kept him guessing. He never voiced any discontent, though. He didn’t want her to feel like he was ungrateful for what she did, or to change their intimate relationship. He thought he understood that she was trying to make this situation more enjoyable to him. He had never had any prior experience with tease and denial in a relationship. But he sensed that Julie was in control, and that it wasn’t up to him what happened. He had learned to relax and enjoy it. He puzzled over the rules that seemed to guide her behavior, though. Why did she think it was okay to caress him, but not bring him fully to orgasm? He guessed it was more professional not to cross that line. This is how he rationalized this end-of-day activity, and defended her denial of him in his mind. He would go home every single day denied and hungry, but didn’t stay that way for long. He found himself thinking about it all day in anticipation. During the day, his diaper and lack of private time kept him from touching himself. But he had no such limitations at night. He rushed home daily to relieve himself, and sometimes would pleasure himself multiple times each evening. He would see her face and imagine her hands on him whenever he masturbated, and fantasized about the two of them together. Oddly, it wasn’t only regular sex he imagined. Though he had never been turned on by leather and whips, he started imagining Julie telling him what to do in the bedroom. She seemed like she would know just what she liked, and how he could pleasure her. She took care of him during the day. He would like to take care of her in return. Despite the direction their work and personal relationship had taken, he wasn’t certain he wanted to push it further down that road. He knew all about sexual harassment, and respected her far too much to chance making her uncomfortable. He’d love to ask her out. But what if he broke what they had? It would be risky. Maybe it was better to be satisfied with their wonderful, strange intimacy just the way it was. And anyway, she seemed to have no problem asking for something if she wanted it. Surely she would tell him? When the next week had ended, he didn’t even consider asking to stop using diapers. She surely noticed, but also didn’t bring it up. They had settled into a very workable—and very enjoyable—relationship. The price for their flirty teamwork—wearing diapers—was high, but it worked! Julie continued to be amazed at how smoothly things were going. He hadn’t even brought up the subject of the diapers at the end of the next week. He seemed to be growing more comfortable in his submissive and infantile role. He accepted her rules and supervision, kept himself closely shaved, and didn’t even complain when she popped her finger in his anus, which she was careful to do every single time she could. That would come in handy sometime soon. Sure, her teasing sessions were undoubtedly helping the process along, but what was new? She had learned that men could be influenced via their genitalia. It was too easy not to do it. Men were just built to be manipulated. It wasn’t their fault. Her job was to use her powers for good. She had always tried to help them do what was needed, and she had a responsibility not to take advantage of their simplicity and hurt them. This particular man was a good man. He was so vulnerable and naïve that she had to take care. So far, she thought she was doing well. Sure, she was taking advantage of male weakness and his need for intimacy. She was inducing dependence and submission, but it was for a good cause. Of course she wasn’t going to let him come. It reinforced her dominance, loving though it was. It let him know that his pleasure was not the main goal. It kept him on the edge, stoking his sexual appetite. It introduced the idea that sometimes he might not get to come, and that she was in control of that. But mostly, it let him know that she wasn’t “easy” or there for his satisfaction. If he wanted more, he’d have to ask (or beg, she thought hungrily). He had been uncertain about their “arrangement” at the beginning, but he wasn’t complaining now. She’d been delighted the very first day she teased him and left him hanging. He had sighed, and she thought he might whine. But instead, he seemed to accept her gift to him for what it was. She knew then that she could develop his submissive nature, even if he wasn’t aware of it yet. He could be perfect for her. Time to raise the stakes. Chapter 10 Two and a half weeks after having Julie first ask him to pull down his pants, his eyes were closed and he was enjoying her end-of-day ministrations. He was really starting to like this, and, maybe, like her, as something more than a coworker. Suddenly, she stopped stroking him and held his penis tightly. His eyes opened, as he sensed she wanted his attention. “I had a patient today who recently had a colonoscopy, and she said the GI doctor mentioned how important it is to take fiber every day. She said everyone should take extra fiber. It can cut down on heart disease and diverticulitis, and maybe even prevent colon cancer. Is that true?” Hoping that a quick easy answer would encourage her to get back to their usual late-afternoon activity, he nodded. “Uh, sure. Important for everyone.” She seemed concerned. “Hmm, I don’t take any extra fiber. Do you?” She started slowly stroking him, and he closed his eyes again. “Hmm, no.” …And then she stopped. His eyes popped open. He found that she was looking at him, as if considering something. “Sounds like both of us could use some fiber. It comes in supplements, right? I’m up for it if you are.” She smiled at him and started stroking again, just lightly, with her fingertips. He knew she was teasing him, maybe even manipulating him in some unimportant way, but he decidedly did not care at this moment. His eyelids closed again. “Sure, sure. Good idea.” Though he couldn’t see it, her smile broadened. “Great, great. I’ll feel much better if we’re taking care of ourselves. I’ll bring in some supplements tomorrow.” She gave him a few more slow, gentle strokes, then off-handedly asked, “Somehow I’m guessing that you tend more toward being constipated?” She saw his eyebrows furrow a little, but he kept his eyes closed. “Um, well…”, he started, but didn’t elaborate. She realized she’d need to help him focus. When her hand stopped again, he realized she’d asked him a question. But he wasn’t really paying attention to her words, so he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Oh, um…What was the question again?” He was very aware that her hand was still on him, now with a tight grasp, but not moving. “Well, you’ve been in a diaper for more than two weeks, and you’ve never asked me about what would happen if you need to poop. So I’m guessing you don’t poop very often?” Whoa. If there was anything he didn’t want to talk about with Julie, it was his bowel habits! He had started to fantasize about her all the time, and she was touching him right now. How could he steer her away from the topic? If he had learned anything about Julie, it was that she wasn’t easily deterred. He’d have to say something if he wanted to move on. “Well, it varies, but I don’t think it’s, like, abnormal.” He was relieved when he felt her hand start to move again. But his heart sank a little when he realized she wasn’t moving on. “Well, that’s good…So when was the last time you pooped?” He sighed in exasperation. “Do we really have to talk about that? It’s kind of personal.” She snorted, though her hand still moved. “I’ve been changing your diaper for two weeks, and I’m touching you in an extremely intimate way right now. Are there really things that are off limits?” She smiled expectantly, raising her eyebrows. His face reddened a little. He didn’t want this to stop, awkward as it was. So he nodded slightly, saying, “Good point. I just don’t really like talking about…that.” She smiled fondly at him, exquisitely enjoying his embarrassment. “Why are you embarrassed about how often you poop?” He shook his head. Nothing he could do would shake this woman. “I just don’t like talking about that stuff.” “Stuff like your pooping habits?” He groaned. “Yes. Like that.” She giggled and gripped him a little tighter, but slowed her stroke down. Part of her goal here was to embarrass him, which, it pleased her to discover, turned her on, but part was to get him to associate being embarrassed with being excited, and to associate her with that embarrassment, and with control. And it was even better to be talking about bathroom habits, over which she was soon to be in complete control. The more confusion he felt about whether he was embarrassed or excited, the easier it would be to manipulate him, both toward her intermediate and her ultimate goals. “Well, I’m not sure why you are embarrassed. You are a health professional, and you talk to patients all the time about their own pooping and peeing.” She looked innocently at him. “It looks like you don’t like it when the tables are turned?” She kept stroking him steadily but very slowly, shaking her head. “Well, too bad. You know it is important. Someone needs to keep you honest.” She suddenly stopped stroking him. “So? When was the last time you pooped?” He sighed, realizing that she wouldn’t stop until he gave her an answer. Blushing, he said, “I guess it was probably on Monday.” She frowned, but started lightly touching—almost tickling—his testicles. “That’s been three days. Is that about average for you?” He nodded slightly. “Yeah, probably.” “But I’ve heard you tell patients that they should take enough fiber so that they poop every day. Are you ignoring your own advice?” He squirmed a little on the table. In response, her grip tightened, seemingly intending to pin him down on this point. “I guess, maybe,” he admitted. “A little.” Her grip relaxed slightly, and he felt her hand move up and down his shaft again. That was nice. He must have said something she liked. He resolved to do more of that if he could. “Well, I can help with that, if you’d like. Would you like that?” she purred softly. All he could think about was her soft, soft hand. “Sure, whatev—I mean, Yes, ma’am. You bet.” She nodded. “I’ve got to keep my doctor happy and healthy, don’t I?” His eyes closing, he murmured, “Happy. So happy….” She smiled down at him. She sure loved compliant men. “So tomorrow we’ll start some fiber supplements, won’t we? And we’ll just keep track of your poops so we know how we’re doing, okay?” He nodded, then, realizing she liked to be answered out loud, said, “Yes, ma’am.” Unknown to him, her smile broadened, and she shook her head. She knew she could get his bowel habits under her thumb, but hadn’t really thought it would be quite that easy. Men really were simple creatures. Her job done today, she efficiently brought him just to the edge of an orgasm, and then cleaned him up. His eyes slowly came open, then focused. He seemed a little disappointed, but—like before—didn’t complain. She left him naked on the table for a moment. “Did you want…me to put another diaper on you to go home?” His brow furrowed as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Well, no, of course not.” He sat up and swung his legs around. ”Why would I?” As she washed her hands, she shrugged. “No reason. It’s just that, by now, you know they have their practical purpose. I realized I’d never asked if you wanted to wear one home for convenience.” He considered for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. No need for that, of course. That…would be weird.” She smiled at him. “Either way. I’m going out to pick up some fiber supplements. Are there any you specifically recommend or prefer?” He was buckling his pants. “Not really. I think pills are generally easier. Never tried any.” As she grabbed her purse, she said, “Well, then, I guess we’ll experiment a little.” Chapter 11 The next morning when he walked into the work room, he noticed a new whiteboard on the cabinet, completely blank except for lines and dates hand-drawn to make a calendar. On the counter were a little box of magnets, and an industrial size bottle that he realized was full of fiber laxative caps. Next to his water bottle, already filled for him, was a little cup with 2 capsules in it. Oh, boy, she was serious. As he set his bag down, he noticed her watching him. He nodded at the medicine cup. “I’m assuming those are for me?” She smiled. “You bet! The bottle says to take 2-4 daily, or however many are needed. I figured we’d start with two daily, and just increase the amount until you are pooping daily. And…”, and here she jumped up excitedly and walked over to the calendar. “…this is the poop chart I made for you! Do you like it?” He reddened. “Chart?” She nodded. “Poop chart, that’s right. When you make a poop the night before, or before you come in in the morning, you can put a smiley face magnet on the day. Or more than one if you’ve been really busy. If you haven’t made a poop since we saw each other, you should put a frowny face.” She held out the box of stickers to him. “Go ahead, try it out!” He stood there staring at the magnets, and then looked up at her, pained. “Seriously?” She looked a little hurt, then resolute. “Yes, seriously. I bought the magnets, and made the chart, so that you wouldn’t have to talk about your pooping every day. I was being sensitive to your weird shyness about your bathroom habits. I thought this would be easier. Would you rather I asked you each morning?” she inquired, her eyebrows raised. “No, no,” he said hurriedly. “I guess the magnets are better than having to talk about…that. Thanks for being so considerate.” She stood there with the box, patiently. Eventually he got the clue. “Oh! Right,” he mumbled. “Well, um…” He found a red sad face magnet and picked it out. He put it over yesterday’s date. “How’s that?” She put the box down. “Well, it’s a fine job with the magnet, if that’s what you’re asking. Your kindergarten teacher would be proud,” she said, patting him on the head comically. “But not so great for your pooping. We’ll see how you do on 2 of these daily, and increase it until we see a lot more happy faces on that chart! Make sure you keep track of your poops! Be sure you mark them on the calendar, because otherwise you might get too much fiber!” She patted him on the bottom, and turned toward their diaper cabinet. “Speaking of which, let’s get you ready for the day!” Something about that comment made him a little uncomfortable, but she ushered him onto the exam table and had him diapered before he could think about what it was. The day was fairly typical for them, busy and efficient. His wet diapers were changed, and not another word was uttered about fiber or pooping for the rest of the day. Within a few days, and after she increased his fiber once, he was able to add a happy-faced magnet to the chart, and was rewarded with a big smile from Julie. He grimaced, eager to avoid the subject. “I know, I know. You don’t want to talk about it. But if you get a few more of those in a row, we won’t need to increase the dose.” She patted him on his diapered bottom as he headed off to see patients. As they were getting ready to go home that day, after his final diaper change, he finally was able to verbalize what had been bugging him. “Julie, can I ask you a question?” he said as they were gathering up their things after the other staff had gone home. “What if…if the fiber works TOO well? You know, here at work?” She blinked at him. “What do you mean?” He blushed. “Well, you know, I’m all for regular bowel movements in theory, but what if we’re here, and I’m, you know, wearing a diaper…” He looked at her meaningfully, but was met with silence. “And…” she prompted, appearing not to understand. Damn it, he thought. She was going to make him say it out loud. “And I need to…” He realized she would not want him to use a medical term. “…poop, here at work. I just want to make sure we’re both…clear…on the fact that there is NO way I’m going to do…that…in my diaper. I’ll just go to the bathroom in that case. I just don’t want you to be surprised or upset when I do. Maybe we could make it so I could tell you once I’m back that that’s why I went, or something.” His cheeks burned. This was ridiculous to talk about. Julie shook her head. “Sorry, no. Out of the question.” He stared at her. “Um…what is?” She stared. “You, using the potty. That’s not going to happen.” He stared back, unsure he had heard her correctly. Maybe she had misunderstood. “No, I mean, in case I should need to…you know…poop.” She appeared to relent, approaching him and laying her hand on his arm. “Sweetie, I heard what you said. I just meant that you aren’t going to be allowed to use the potty at all, even if you have to poop.” As she saw his face darken, she stroked his forearm to comfort him. “It took you five minutes to pee before diapers. Imagine how long it takes you to poop in there. I have waited on you, so I know. If it makes sense for you to use a diaper for peeing, it makes far more sense to wear it for pooping.” He was clearly not convinced, so she continued, “And then there would be the business of you trying to undo your diaper, then trying to refasten it correctly in the potty. That could be dangerous for leaks later.” Her lips pressed together, she shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry. I know you want to use the potty like a big boy when you poop, but I just cannot let that happen. It would be a disaster.” She picked up her purse, as if the conversation were over. But he couldn’t leave it there. He couldn’t let this stand as an agreement. She didn’t seem to understand what using a diaper that way would entail. “But…but…no, wait. But you don’t really want that, right? I mean, changing a wet diaper is one thing, but this would be…different. Gross, and horrible. I—I mean, right? Why would you want to do that?” He thought of something. “Maybe I could do it?” he asked hopefully. That would at least not be so humiliating. “Don’t be silly,” she said, turning to leave. “I’ve told you: I have nursing training, and mommy training. I know what it is like to change a poopy diaper, and I’m prepared to do it if it needs to be done.” Why was she so casual about all this? It made no sense. “But—but—the smell. People would know. I can’t—“ He was close to tears. Seeing this, she stopped. She saw that he couldn’t meet her gaze. She reached up and gently raised his chin so that their eyes met. She squeezed his hands firmly. “If it happens, we’ll manage. I’ll take care of it without anyone knowing, just like we do with your wet diapers. I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise.” She watched his face, seeing the uncertainty. She spoke again, and reached a hand up to one cheek. “Here’s how it would work. You are a big enough boy to tell when it will happen. If you feel like you need to poop, you just come and get me. You don’t have to wait until after it happens. You can interrupt me, and come back to this room. You can poop in here, and then we can change you immediately.” She released his chin, and he looked down. He swallowed. “Maybe we could also stop the fiber. It seems like—“ She cut him off. “Oh, no. We’re not compromising your health just because of your embarrassment.” She snorted softly and smiled. “That would be a bad precedent to set. And anyway, we’ve been doing that for a few days, and nothing bad has happened. I’m not giving you fiber to make you poop at work. I’m not bothered by messy diapers, but I don’t need more of them. You can keep doing that at home.” He was clearly not happy, but nodded and was quiet. She knew he’d be okay with it, just as he had agreed to wetting his diapers. He just needed time. But she needed to be careful with how she handled the next week or two, as he would be fragile emotionally. He was surprised when she drew him into a tight hug. She held him for a full minute. Initially shocked, he realized it felt really good. He felt her reassurance, realized that he needed it, and hugged her back. In fact, it was hard for him not to cry. She was so nice, wasn’t she? She also smelled good. Nice and familiar. She felt him return her hug, and heard him sigh. Holy cow, that was sweet. That kind of emotional connection was definitely one of the major highs she got from mothering. And so soon! She finally released him. “Look, if you poop at work, we’ll get through it. No big deal. Then we’ll go back to kicking some medical ass.” She smiled, and turned to leave. He picked up his bag, and headed out. He couldn’t remember feeling so close to someone. Could he trust her that much? It was scary. But she felt like someone who really could take care of him. Chapter 12 Two weeks later, his calendar was nearly solid happy faces. He was taking 3 fiber caps daily, and he found it fairly easy to have at least a small bowel movement daily. He had not had any work-place disasters, which is how he still felt about the prospect of moving his bowels at work, despite Julie’s reassurances. But it hadn’t even come up. He was feeling less worried now, and didn’t mind the fiber if it made Julie happy. Julie had also noticed his comfort level. They hadn’t changed his dose for a week, so she felt it was safe to make her move. If he had to poop at work, he wouldn’t specifically blame the fiber. It was a Wednesday, which meant a lighter patient load. They’d have some extra time, and they would need it. After lunch, he climbed onto the changing table for her to change his wet diaper. They chatted about the upcoming afternoon, and she marveled how natural a diaper change was for him now. She treasured this intimacy, learned as a mother and miraculously replicated in her workplace. She was about to deepen that relationship. He lifted his legs for her to clean him, and she cleaned him as usual. However, this afternoon, when she poked her finger inside of his bottom, she also deftly popped in a small suppository. She smiled as he kept talking straight through the procedure, completely unaware of her secret gift. She quickly diapered him again, allowing him to sit up and pull up his pants. She watched him closely, but he clearly had not noticed. From the very beginning, she had prepared him for this day, desensitizing him to anal penetration, and she was elated at how easy it was to deceive him. As she watched him settle to finish a few computer tasks before seeing their first patient, she was tempted to feel a little sorry for him for what lay ahead for him this afternoon. She regretted not being able to be honest, but sometimes men—especially her man—needed a little push. This was necessary to take their relationship to the next level. He was seeing his second patient of the afternoon when he became aware of some pressure in his bowels. He suppressed any concern he felt about this development, thinking it was likely to be gas, or perhaps something that he could wait through. But within ten minutes he was forced to admit that this feeling might be more insistent than he had expected. This was very unusual. His bathroom habits were typically subject to whenever he had time for them, and never urgent. But he felt…full, and was starting to get some cramping. He finished up with his patient, and debated whether he should see his next patient, whom Julie had already brought back and put in a room for him. He didn’t like the distraction that his discomfort was causing, but this was outweighed by the horrible embarrassment that he would suffer if he admitted to Julie that he had to move his bowels. He had no doubts about her desire to make him go in his diaper. Despite her assurances that she didn’t mind changing him, he had to doubt this. No one could enjoy changing a messy diaper. He had admitted to himself that he had a big crush on her. He couldn’t bear to have her see him with a dirty diaper. How did he ever stand a chance of dating her if he let her change a messy diaper? He decided that he would trust his ability to control himself rather than give in to the mounting need to poop. This next visit seemed interminable, however, both because of the increasing intensity of the pressure and also because of the nature of the discussion, which ironically concerned a young woman’s problem with frequent diarrhea. While he had quickly determined her problem to be irritable bowel syndrome, her description of her bathroom habits was not helping to distract him from his own needs. He found himself wondering if Julie would forgive him if he dashed to the bathroom just this once. She might not ever know, after all, if he was quick and managed to tape the diaper back the way it was. He had admittedly never tried, but how hard could it be? He started sweating, trying not to have an accident as he stood up to examine his patient. It took all of his concentration, and he found it difficult to string coherent sentences together as they discussed the plan for this young woman. As he rose to escort her to the exam room door, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out any longer. He was going to need to poop in the next few seconds. He decided that he didn’t want to face Julie in this condition—it wasn’t manly or attractive or professional. She would have to wait to change a messy diaper. Feeling desperate and ready to run to the bathroom, he opened the door to the hallway. The patient left the room, and he followed. Almost free! Turning left out of the exam room, toward the bathroom, he literally ran right into Julie, who was standing just outside the door. It almost looked like she had been waiting for him, though she could have just been passing by. But she now stood between him and the bathroom, and he let out a little moan at the sight of her. He quickly stepped to the side, hoping she would pass. He might still get to the bathroom if she kept going and he pretended he needed something in the other direction. But she didn’t pass. She took a step to the side also, blocking his path again. She raised her eyebrows, locked his eyes with hers, and imperceptibly shook her head. She pointed behind him to their work room. When he stood still, panicked, wondering if she could possibly know how much distress he was in, she gently took his elbow and turned him toward her desired destination. No! He couldn’t let her do this. He was about to have a major BM, and it might even be diarrhea. He couldn’t let her witness that. He tried to turn back, but she gave him a firm maternal glance that somehow told him she knew exactly what he was trying to do and that he shouldn’t even think about it. Instead, she nudged him toward the room. He needed to plead with her, but couldn’t do it in the hallway. He quickly strode toward their work room, hoping he could hold for another minute. He reached the room and turned around. Julie was following, but appeared to be taking her time. Suddenly a cramp hit him, and he doubled over. He was able to control himself, but realized it would probably be obvious to Julie what was happening. She reached the room and closed the door behind her as he started to straighten up. He saw her pause to lock the door as well, and again felt the panic rise in him. “Julie, please. PLEASE let me go to the bathroom. Just this once,” he panted, holding his stomach. “Don’t be silly. If you need to poop, then do it. We have a few minutes before the next patient, but not long. It would be best to get this over with now.” He gasped. “But—you don’t understand—this is bad. It—it is bad!” She shook her head in consternation. “Then why are you holding it in? There is no need to be so miserable or dramatic.” He was almost to the point of despair. He had iron intestines, but even he had his limits. “No…” She almost smiled. What he didn’t know, and couldn’t know, since he was unaware of the suppository, was that every moment he delayed meant that the effect of the glycerin would be greater and more volcanic. The only thing that would have defeated her plan was if he had immediately expelled the suppository before it could irritate the intestinal membranes. However, because his most fervent wish was not to let anything out of his anus, he was making it much, much worse. His embarrassment was the key to making this plan so effective. But she didn’t smile. She delivered the next line, long practiced and considered, with what appeared to be the utmost concern for his comfort. “I wonder if a lot of that cramping you’re having is from gas. Maybe you could just try to let some of the gas out and feel more comfortable.” She could have cried at the naïve glimmer of hope she saw spark in his eyes at that moment. God bless him, he believed her. Only a man without much experience with diarrhea could have thought this feat possible. Without saying a word, he moved a little away from her and looked away. What happened next would be burned into both of their memories forever. She saw a passing look of concentration, then the emergence of horror on his face. He choked off a short cry, squatted, and let loose a large amount of soft stool into his diaper. It went on and on, and she just stood quietly near the door, watching. He was, of course, consumed with the process, and had given himself over to the full completion of the task. The room quieted, but slowly became filled with the smell of his act. After a moment, his breathing seemed to become regular again, and she gently crossed the room to him. She touched his shoulder, and asked, “Do you think you’re done? Or is there some more poop in there?” He couldn’t answer, or even look at her. She moved so that she was in his line of sight. “Are you done?” Once his eyes refocused on her, he nodded numbly. She smiled. “Then let’s get you into a nice clean diaper. Come over to your changing table.” She grasped his hand and led him toward the table. He waddled gingerly, slowly, and she could see him trying not to let the contents of the diaper touch his skin. Of course, this was futile, but she understood the need to try. His expression soured as he felt the effects of the suppository coat the skin under his diaper. When he had reached the table, she said, “Ok. Pants down, hop up!” Then she caught herself, and said, “Well, maybe not hop.” He positioned himself to ease himself up onto the table, then stopped. “Would you please let me do this myself? It’s…disgusting.” “Nonsense. Pooping is just a natural part of living. Now get up there so we can get you cleaned up. This is advanced diaper-changing and you would be…outmatched. I can do this far faster than you.” And she really didn’t mind. Babysitting jobs throughout high school–not to mention family members in diapers–had kept her changing diapers much of the time. During and after nursing school, she became comfortable with the medical side of caring for grown men, and she had realized that young or old, men often needed her hands to be gentle at some times and firm at others. Her motherhood of young boys had only seemed to reinforce that. She wasn’t put off by the cleanup, and actually found that changing a diaper was one of the more intimate experiences she could have with a male. It was one her first experiences in being in charge. How could she not enjoy that? He sighed, and discovered that he could not really get up on the table without sitting right in the middle of his mess. As he uneasily settled himself onto the table, his expression mirrored the disgust he felt, and she noticed. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “We’ve done this a hundred times. It’s no different to me. Just lie back.” He couldn’t really respond. His mind was consumed with the horrible sensation of warm squish. He wanted to escape, but he felt caught, like a fly in a web. Not having any better options, he sighed, and gently reclined, feeling movement under him as he shifted weight. Once he was down, Julie let out her breath and put on some vinyl gloves. The hard part was over. Now she had to make it—as promised—easier than changing himself. She smiled as he reflexively let his knees fall apart, showing her the discolored diaper he wore. She untaped him, and pulled open the front of his diaper, immediately instructing him, “Up.” As he pulled his knees up, she took the diaper and efficiently wiped the bulk of his mess off of him, rolling it as she went. A few wipes later, and he was clean. She removed the dirty diaper and placed a clean one under him, powdering and taping him quickly. Within 2 minutes he was sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the table as if nothing had happened. Julie disposed of the diaper as he dressed himself. She caught him as he was trying to turn away, toward the door. She stood in his way and waited for their eyes to meet. Still ashamed and wanting the experience as far in the past as he could make it, he couldn’t escape her gaze. When he caught sight of her raised eyebrows, he intuited her meaning quickly and now felt bad that he hadn’t said what needed to be said. “Thank you,” he said softly, staring at the floor. He felt her lift his chin again, which made him feel like a little kid. But for some reason he allowed this, and once she held his gaze, heard her say, “That wasn’t so bad, and I don’t think it is gross. If it happens again, please man up and let me change you, okay?” He was silent, his emotions muddled and his mind spinning. How could she not hate what just happened? He wanted her to think of him as a man, not a baby. But she was equating being a man with letting her change his dirty diaper. He was finding it hard to come to terms with what their relationship was. Shouldn’t it be employer/employee? It seemed more like mother/child. She couldn’t really be attracted to him at this point. Not after that. Of course, he felt grateful to her for making him feel better when he had felt terrible, and for not humiliating him about it. It could have been much worse, but she had been so kind. But he was deeply infatuated with her, and wanted to spend time with her. He lusted for her and loved her hands on him. He respected her intelligence and clinical skills. He wanted to be manly around her, to take her and kiss her, but she seemed to want him to be more passive and childlike. And—if he was honest—that did feel like the more natural role for him in this relationship. She was so strong and certain. It felt right to let her be in charge. She saw the thoughts whirling through his brain, and sensed a lot of internal conflict. What could she do to help? What did he need more than anything right now? Probably acceptance. Impulsively, she drew close and put her arms around him, holding him warmly and tightly, as she had first done two weeks ago. She felt his body stiffen for a moment, then relax a bit, then she felt his arms around her, too. She smiled. Chapter 13 He was tense the next few days, unsure how Julie would act toward him, worried that he would have more diaper disasters or that he couldn’t trust his bowels. But everything with her seemed back to normal to him. Julie was nice, and, though he was sensitive to any change in how she talked to him or looked at him, their relationship didn’t seem to have changed. He relaxed a little, breathing easier when each afternoon progressed without those horrible cramps. He was reassured that his system seemed back to normal. It didn’t seem to be the fiber, he realized. He was moving his bowels daily, but mostly at home in the morning, where he could go in private, just as he wanted it. His accident must have been a fluke. These days at work were really great. He’d gotten over the weirdness of wearing a diaper, which was still bizarre, of course. He was wetting his diaper much more instinctively now. Sometimes he wasn’t even aware of it, and was surprised when Julie would surreptitiously cup his crotch and then raise her eyebrows at the heavy dampness. He was enough used to a wet diaper that he didn’t mind it much. That was bizarre too, when he thought about it. But he was kind of enjoying not focusing on when he wet. It seemed like he really ought to take advantage of the perk to wearing diapers, right? And no one but Julie knew about it. It was their secret, as far as he could tell. They worked like a team, and the work burden seemed so much lighter. He got home earlier, and was less tired when he did so. While her methods were unusual, and he could never tell anyone about their agreement, he couldn’t argue with her results. He did have a surprise outside of work that week, however. Before he left each day, when he was on the changing table for the last time, Julie would ask him, “Do you want me to put a clean diaper on you to go home in? Or do you just want to wear your underpants home?” It seemed like a weird question each and every time she asked it. While he had conceded to the infantile garb at work, there was no logic to why he would want to wear a diaper outside of work. He had asked her one evening why she would give him a choice he so obviously wouldn’t take. She shrugged and smiled, as if she were just being accommodating, as if some people might actually answer yes. He shook his head, amused. It was one thing to use a diaper for a specific, noble purpose like he was doing, he thought. It would be another simply to choose to wear one on his off time. But as he stood in line at the grocery store a few nights later, he became aware of a curious warmth in his pants. He thought he was leaning against something warm, but then he felt trickling down his leg. He looked down, startled, and realized he had wet his pants, something he hadn’t done in 30 years. He moved closer to the counter, shielding himself from view, then later held the grocery bags in front of him to preserve his dignity. He made it to the car without anyone seeing, he thought. But it drove home an important point: maybe there actually was a downside to mindlessly wetting his diaper. He had to discipline himself to control his bladder carefully, even at work, when he didn’t technically have to, or this could become a slippery slope that led to his needing to answer Julie’s nightly question differently. During the following week, things were going so well at work that he again started pondering the idea of asking Julie out. He still wasn’t sure about the wisdom of such a move, but he was becoming more infatuated by the day. There was something about the gentle efficiency of their interaction, the confidence of her work with patients and, honestly, with his needs, that made him feel like he wanted to see more of her outside of work. At work, she always had his back. He longed for that feeling outside of work as well. That afternoon, she again spent a few moments longer than needed touching him after the patients had gone. He had gotten used to the idea that it was just a nice reward for a good day’s work, and that she would never take it so far as he’d like. But maybe if they weren’t at work… As they were leaving the office, he couldn’t help himself. “Would you ever have time to grab some dinner?” She stopped suddenly, surprise on her face. He reddened when she didn’t respond right away. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I—I just meant…” He didn’t really know how to excuse his proposition. He felt her hand on his arm. “No, it’s okay,” she said warmly, smiling brilliantly at him. “I just can’t believe it took you so long. I would LOVE to have dinner with you.” He exhaled. She’d said yes! “…But I’m afraid that it might be hard to go out to a restaurant. My kids need to eat too, and I’d feel bad about asking Mom to sit for them into the evening. Maybe you could come over sometime and we could eat at my house? You could meet the little guys. I know it’s not romantic, but it is about the best I can do right now.” He nodded vigorously. He’d heard a lot about the boys, and was so thrilled to get to see her that he would have done about anything. She would check her calendar about a workable date. He drove home elated. She’d expected him to ask her out! He hadn’t misread their relationship. And somehow, for some reason, changing his diaper every single day hadn’t diminished her romantic interest in him. That seemed too amazing to believe. The next afternoon, he felt a gentle rumbling in his gut that normally meant he needed to visit the bathroom. It wasn’t urgent, like the other day, however. He plowed onward, seeing patients, feeling a fullness, but nothing he couldn’t handle. It was a very busy day, with his schedule packed. He had added some appointments into the evening to accommodate the demand. This was a bottleneck point in the day, as sometimes happened. He had a complicated patient who needed labs, some referrals, and an EKG. Julie had gotten stuck helping the patient in the room, and hadn’t been able to bring any other patients back for him. He looked for another patient to see, and, seeing none, found himself wandering back toward the other end of the building. He hadn’t specifically meant to, but realized he was outside the staff restroom. He hadn’t been here in nearly a month. As he stared at it thoughtfully, his intestines complained again. He glanced back down the hallway toward his empty workstation. Would Julie mind? Would she even know? Probably not—she was swamped. Certainly if he took care of his bodily functions on his own, especially this afternoon when they were so busy, it would help them both out. Why not? The clincher was that, looking forward to their “date”, the last thing he wanted was for Julie to have a fresh memory of changing another dirty diaper. He quickly ducked inside the bathroom and locked the door. He lowered his khakis, then fumbled with the tapes on the diaper. He carefully pulled them off, and was pleased to see that while they stretched the plastic, they hadn’t ripped it. This was going well—maybe he could do this from time to time and never have to have Julie change another dirty diaper! He rushed a bit, conscious of the need for efficiency. When he stood up again, he found that re-taping the diaper might be the hardest part. He clenched his legs together, holding the diaper roughly in place, then re-affixed the tapes in what he hoped was similar to their prior locations. He pulled up his pants, washed his hands, and rushed back down the hall. He got back in plenty of time to greet Julie as she was leaving the patient’s room, looking harried. She was focused, as always, on her work duties, and he smiled at his decision. If he was smart, he could make this work, limiting their interactions to wet diapers, and avoiding any messy ones. He was happy with himself and relieved to have avoided further humiliation, but felt hesitant about sharing that good idea with Julie. The fact that he couldn’t talk to Julie about it gnawed a little at him, but he put it out of his mind. They worked hard for the rest of the afternoon, then finished the early evening in rapid fashion. He did need a diaper change later in the afternoon, and though Julie frowned a bit as she confronted his doctored diaper, she didn’t ask any questions. As usual, their teamwork had dispatched a huge workload quickly and efficiently. However, due to the extra appointments, they were still the last two staff in the office. As they finished their tasks on the computer, Julie turned to him, and wearily said, “Okay, time to get changed for home.” She seemed a little less chipper than usual, but it had been a very long day. He obediently unbuckled and hopped up on the table as she locked the door. Despite the fact that no one else was in the office, he gratefully noticed that Julie took no chances. She had his diaper off, and his bottom wiped in a moment. She didn’t really tease him much today, but maybe she was really tired. She tossed the wet diaper and retreated to her workstation. He swung his legs off the table and leaned down to pull up his pants. She interrupted him. “Could you…leave those down for just a moment?” He stood up, a little perplexed. His shirttails covered his nakedness, but his pants and boxers were still around his ankles. Usually at this point, she was washing her hands and gathering her things to leave. Tonight, though, she was sitting at her desk, turned toward him, and wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked. She took a deep breath, then blew it out. “We need to talk.” She met his eyes. “Did you make a poop today?” He could feel his cheeks start to burn. She couldn’t possibly know. He just had to play it cool. “Not at work.” Her face fell. She looked disappointed. “Well, that’s not what two different nurses told me. They saw you go into the potty for about five minutes this afternoon. They said it seemed unusual to them, since it almost never happens these days.” She gave him a wry smile. “They don’t know anything, but they still could tell you shouldn’t have been back there.” He stood still, unaware of how ridiculous he looked with his pants down. He was trying to think how to explain his presence in the bathroom. “Well, that’s true. I did go back to the bathroom, but that was to clean my tie. It was after lunch, and I’d spilled something on it.” She frowned a little. “And there was something in the potty you specifically needed? We have sinks and mirrors in all of the exam rooms.” He paled a little, but decided to stick with this story. It was as good as he was going to get. She shook her head sadly. “I guess I could have predicted it would come to this at some point. Look, I already know you went back there to poop on the potty. I noticed that your diaper had been removed and replaced, and I figured that it happened during that nightmare of a patient we had this afternoon.” Her lips pursed. “So we have a problem.” His gaze had fallen to the floor. He’d been caught. At this point he couldn’t think of anything to say. “There are several issues I have with this…situation. One is that you went back to poop on the potty, wasting time that could have been spent on patients.” He protested, explaining that he thought he was making good use of the time. She cut him off. “No, it was wasting time. You could have asked another nurse to bring a patient back, or been working on phone calls and other tasks. You can’t replace a diaper as fast as I can. You know that.” His mouth hung open a little. He shut it self-consciously. Good points, all. “Two is that you broke your promise. We had a system worked out together, and were working as a team. You decided on your own, without discussion with me, your work partner, that you knew better, even though we had specifically talked about this exact situation.” Now he was really starting to feel guilty. They were a good team. He had learned to value that. Maybe— But she was not done. “Finally, you lied to me. You stood right there a moment ago and lied about having pooped on the potty. This is the hardest for me to take. I…felt like we were…” She broke off, apparently unable to finish. She stared at the floor for a moment. He wondered if he should say something. But then she continued. “But now I don’t know how I can trust you.” She looked up at him. It looked like there were tears in her eyes. His heart melted. He felt terrible. He looked down, searching for something to say, and noticed that his pants were still bunched up around his ankles. This was not a comfortable way to have a talk about their budding relationship. He glanced up at her and gestured to his pants. “Um…may I…?” She shook her head slightly. Her voice had regained some control. “No, not yet, if you don’t mind.” He folded his hands in front of his waist. He suddenly felt awkward in front of her. Why was she keeping him half naked in front of her? Then she cleared her throat and spoke. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He looked up at her blankly. “Um, well…” He thought for a moment. May as well be honest at this point. “You were in a room, and we were clearly backed up. I felt the need to go to the bathroom, and I thought—“ “You mean, you felt like you needed to poop. You don’t have a need to go to a bathroom any more,” she corrected helpfully. He faltered. Why did he need to talk like a child? Whatever. “Okay, yes, I needed to…”go”. And I thought there was no way that you would have time under the circumstances, and that if I took care of it, it would help us get back on track. I was trying to help.” He smiled at her hopefully. Julie didn’t look convinced. “You mean, you don’t like pooping in your diaper, and you found a good excuse to run to the potty instead.” He nodded slowly. “Well, that, too. I…well, it’s embarrassing.” “Did you think it was fair for you to decide that all by yourself?” she asked, her eyebrows raised. He paused. This was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it his business? “Look, Julie, I decide things all day. Important things. It’s part of my job.” She eyed him. “Yes, you do. But not your potty business. When it comes to your pooping and peeing, that’s my job. We decided that together. It’s part of what makes us a good team. You let me handle the things you don’t do well. Is there something about how I’ve treated you that hurt you or that you didn’t think was done well?” He was getting exasperated. “No, of course not. You…are wonderful. I love our time together. But…I don’t think that going to the bathroom in my diaper—especially that way—is masculine.” Now she looked frustrated, too. “’Going to the—oh, you think that pooping in your diaper, and letting me change you, makes you less of a man? I’ve told you that you are hung up with childhood impressions about diapers and bodily functions. It doesn’t matter to me at all. So when you say that this embarrasses you, I think that it ought to embarrass you more to have all those preconceived notions about using diapers for their intended purpose. I think you should grow up. What matters to me is being efficient, being honest, and taking good care of our patients. And you violated those things today, each and every one of them.” He stood silently, trying to absorb her words. Her weird perspective on diapers and changing him still baffled him, but he really liked her and was trying to understand. More than anything, he wanted to be able to work with her in the future, and, beyond that, to go out with her next week. All of this seemed in jeopardy right now. “Now, I will grant you that you were partially motivated to help me, and that is the only reason I am willing to look for some way past this terrible error in judgment. And I can only think of one way you could prove your commitment to me and to our team going forward. It would take great personal sacrifice, and—fittingly—would require you to let go of some childhood stereotypes.” He looked up. He had no idea what she was talking about. But if she was offering a way out of her doghouse, he was willing to take it. He was willing to do just about anything. But he was initially confused about what she proposed next. “If you really want to prove to me that you care for me, and for what we are doing here, I need to see a token of sacrifice from you.” He shook his head, trying to read the inscrutable expression on her face. But as she reached into her purse and brought out a compact but heavy-looking hairbrush, his eyes opened wide. She sat up straight, and smoothed her scrubs, then expectantly brought her eyes up to his. He stopped breathing as he realized what she was proposing. This was why she wanted him to keep his pants down. She wanted to spank him for going to the bathroom. Here, in his office. It was ridiculous. It took things too far. Yet there she sat, brush in hand. Was this real? Would she really do it? Of course she would; she’d changed his diaper a hundred times, for God’s sake. But he couldn’t let her do this—it would change their relationship, wouldn’t it? How would they work together? How could they date each other? He wanted to show his dedication to her, to work, to their patients, but not like this. “We—we—we can’t do this here,” he protested weakly, not able to verbalize anything else. “This is crazy.” Julie shook her head grimly. “No one else is here. The building is locked, and so is this door. We’re completely alone.” He looked around, a little panicked. Oh, crap. “But…I’m a…I’m your boss. It wouldn’t be right. Isn’t this, like, inappropriate?” She dipped her head and looked up at him sardonically. “Seriously? After everything else, you’re going to worry about sexual harassment? I don’t think anyone would blame you for going over my knee, or me for spanking you. What other arguments do you have on your list?” He started to sweat. “Julie, I don’t want to do this! If I let you do this, that changes us—this—our relationship. How could we work with each other again? I—how would we ever go out? How could we date each other? What kind of relationship could we have?” She laughed. “You don’t think some partners spank each other? I’ve got some websites for you, mister.” Then she became serious. “I think I understand. You’re worried that this changes our power dynamic, that I won’t be attracted to you if you give in to being punished by me?” He nodded, hands still clutched in front of himself. “But you’ve got it backward. I realize it will take tremendous strength of will and discipline for you, a fully grown man, and a doctor besides, to bend over my lap and take a spanking. It will symbolize that you trust my judgment. That you acknowledge that what you did was wrong, and that you are willing to sacrifice your dignity, not to mention putting up with a little pain,” she said with a wry smile. “If you agree to this deal, I’ll forgive you completely, because I’ll see your strength and devotion to your practice, your patients, and our agreement. I’ll see you’re sorry for your mistake, and willing to move forward with a clean slate. It takes a real man to choose this route.” He swallowed. He saw how she could offer such a thing. He could erase what he’d done if he could put up with this…deal. He met her eyes, and nodded. She was telling him that she’d forgive him, that they could still be together, go out on a date. She would still respect him. “I want…that,” he told her. She nodded briskly, and patted her lap. “Then let’s go, young man.” He stared at her lap, and considered once again whether he really wanted to take this step. He looked up at her face, which was firm, but which he’d learn to trust. She wouldn’t hurt him too bad, would she? She liked him. And how bad could a spanking hurt? He was a grown man, and she was just a woman. He shuffled forward, struggling to walk with his pants around his ankles. She pointed to the right side of her, and he moved to comply. A part of him felt like this was unreal, like it couldn’t really be happening. But there Julie was, helping him ease over her lap, telling him to hold his upper body off the floor. He felt his legs dangling helplessly in the air, then felt a cool breeze on his bottom. He assumed that was his shirttail being lifted. His suspicion was confirmed, as he felt Julie’s fingers run lightly over his bottom. He felt goosebumps form on his arms and legs. Suddenly, he felt quite vulnerable. And he remembered that it wasn’t just about embarrassment. Julie had said something about pain. He questioned his earlier assumption. Could it really hurt? He hoped it wouldn’t hurt that much. I mean, he reassured himself, it could mostly be a gesture. He was about to clarify when he heard a loud smack. A moment later he felt pain on his bottom. It wasn’t bad, and he was relieved. It hurt, but he could stand it. He heard, then felt another blow, this time to the other side. She was spanking on the lower part of his bottom, he realized and noted in some part of his brain. The spanks kept coming, and he could see how it could eventually become difficult to tolerate. So…how long would it last? The answer was, at least a few minutes, he discovered, though it was hard to tell. And then it stopped. He let out his breath. That could have been worse, he thought. It was more about the gesture. Sure, it was embarrassing, but it was tolerable. And now they could move forward and forget it. But she didn’t let him up. She shifted her weight, then shifted back. He felt something cold against his bottom, something hard and foreign, moving around, like it was soothing him. “I hope you didn’t mind that little warm-up. I have found that boys can take a longer spanking if there is a hand spanking first.” Trepidation seized him at that point. That was the warm-up? “Now let’s get down to business. I want you to count these off. Don’t lose track, or we’ll start again. We’ll stop when I think it’s time. You can be thinking about what led to this spanking, and how you’ll change in the future.” Suddenly, he heard a swat, and felt a searing pain in his backside, right where her hands had hit him before. But that was it, just one. He was sure that couldn’t be it— “I’m waiting for you to count, young man. Let’s start over.” SMACK! “One!” he spat out quickly. But as soon as he’d said it, another came down, now on the other side. SMACK! This took his breath away. He yelled, “Two!” quickly, before he’d even recovered, but then realized that as soon as he’d said it, she struck again. He felt trapped: he dare not wait too long and get her angry, but he didn’t want to count too quickly. It became a game of seeing just how slowly he could count. Before he’d counted to twenty, he was having trouble concentrating on the numbers. He couldn’t control her strokes, even though he desperately wanted this to stop. He feared having to start over again, so he yelled out numbers. In between spanks, he would hear her voice sometimes, asking if he would ever lie to her again. Would he ever poop on the potty at work again? Would he ever break his promises again? He blurted out answers, then tried to say the number, trying to make her happy with him. It didn’t seem to matter what he said, however, as the paddling continued. But he eventually started to hear another noise in between the numbers, which he couldn’t control. He realized that he was crying. He couldn’t really say numbers anymore, but it didn’t seem to matter. Julie was strong, and kept going, long past his tolerance for pain. He ended up wailing and crying loudly, for what seemed like a long time. Eventually, mercifully, the spanking stopped. He heard the brush set down on the counter somewhere behind him. He tried to stop crying, but couldn’t, not right away. She helped him up, and took him in her arms. It was just what he needed. He cried softly for a few moments, murmuring, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She cooed back at him, saying, “I know, I know. You’re a good boy,” quietly into his ear. She stroked his back until he had gotten his breathing under control. He sniffled a little bit, and eventually felt like the hug had gone on long enough. He pulled away a little, and she leaned back from him, reaching a tissue for him. He gratefully took it and wiped his face and his nose. Julie helped him stand up, and sent him to the corner of the room with a nod and her pointer finger. He didn’t mind. He didn’t want to face her in this state. Standing in the corner helped him compose himself privately, which he needed. “Hands on your head, please,” she told him as he shuffled awkwardly to the corner. He heard her clicking on her computer, and then heard her chair scrape the floor. After a few minutes, he heard her voice. “Okay, you can be done. Turn around.” He turned around shyly, letting his arms fall. She was right there, and she was leaning down in front of him. She grasped his pants and pulled them up, helping him tuck his shirt in, and buckling his belt. She handed him his laptop bag, and reached for her purse, which he now saw was certainly large enough to carry her brush. Did she do that every day? Did she always have that brush? Then she extended her hand, and led him silently out of the office. When they got to their cars, she kissed him on the cheek and said, “You did well tonight, you know. Let’s hope that never happens again.” He looked at her, and earnestly told her, “It won’t.” She smiled warmly. “I’m glad to hear you say that. But if it does, you can expect to be over my lap again. See you tomorrow, okay? Be good.” His bottom burned like crazy, and did hurt quite a bit as he tried to get into his car. He was sure he didn’t ever want to endure something like that again. If she wanted to change his dirty diapers, that was fine with him, just as long as she didn’t bring out that brush again. Anything was better than that. And yet, he reflected on the way home, he somehow felt so much closer to her. He felt grateful to her for offering a route back to her after his bad decision. He felt forgiven and cleansed in a way. It had been a surprisingly intimate experience for something that did not involve sex. He marveled over this. But thank goodness it was over. He went to bed early that night, at least in part because it was easier to lie down than to sit up. He realized then why she had focused so intently so low on his bottom: she knew how to make the discomfort last. She’d gone after the place he sat on. And—indeed—he kept thinking of her all evening. He slept easily, feeling exhausted. The next morning, there lingered an extra closeness between the two of them. He had felt that before with a woman, but only after sex with a partner. They had shared something special, and though he never wanted to share it again, he almost understood why she had done it. All anger seemed forgotten, and all animosity had disappeared. When she changed his diaper, he felt her touch his bottom tenderly, then whistle. “Wow, what happened back here?” she said coyly, giving him a sidelong glance. She rubbed in some lotion to the sore, red, bruised skin, and this felt wonderful. Once he was rediapered, as he was pulling up his slacks, she broached the subject of spanking again. “I know it hurt, but there’s an advantage to a spanking, you know?” He stared at her. “I’m sorry?” he said, unsure he’d heard her correctly. “Oh, yes. It is a wonderful way to clear the air, I’ve found. Spanking is my preferred way to settle scores. It is so much better than letting disagreements stew, arguing for days. Can you see how nice it is to move on with no hard feelings?” He stood for a minute, silent. He enjoyed this new closeness, and certainly didn’t want to argue about this if it would complicate things. And…she was right, to some degree. He wasn’t sure it was the only way to move on, but he was glad not to have to revisit his mistake from yesterday. “Yes, I guess so. But…it doesn’t mean I liked it. I…don’t ever want to do that again.” She smiled. “No problem. Just behave yourself, okay?” She patted him on the bottom and sat down to work, satisfied that he had accepted her disciplinary authority, and that he had essentially agreed to accept it in the future. The conversation made him a little nervous, as he considered the possibility of having to face Julie’s hairbrush again. But he didn’t argue with her. It obviously was effective, and had brought them closer together and allowed them to move on. He thought he understood why she liked it. He was still sore. The next few days he was tender, even with the diaper, and every time he sat down, he thought of Julie. Again and again, he swore never to disobey her again. Chapter 14 He made sure he was extra good that week. He didn’t need to move his bowels at work again for another week, and he was hoping it wouldn’t ever happen again. But on a Friday, just after lunch, he felt a lot of pressure, and his hopes sank. He was talking to one of his partners, and he ended the conversation and looked around furtively. He really needed to go to the bathroom, but—Julie wouldn’t like it. He walked tentatively up to their workroom, and, catching her eye, approached her. “Hey, um. I…think I’m going to need…” He trailed off, still embarrassed about the whole thing. He wanted to do this right, but how could he tell her, and have her change him? It was just so awkward. She stared at him for only a moment, but then completed his sentence. “…to poop?” His surprised expression made her smile. “It wasn’t hard to figure out, you know. You haven’t had a poop for a few days,” she said, gesturing at the magnet chart they still used to modify his fiber intake. “And it’s after lunch. My little boys at home usually go after a meal.” His face reddened and he stared at the floor. “Um, well, I wanted to let you know, ‘cause…” She touched his arm. “Because you didn’t want another spanking? That’s a good boy,” she quietly said, pleased. She shrugged. “Well, have at it. We have a few minutes before patients arrive for the afternoon.” She patted his front, which no longer shocked him, and noted that he had already wet, so he was due for a change anyway. He was surprised. He once again hadn’t remembered peeing. He had meant to work on making that more voluntary, something he tried to do, rather than letting it happen. But this time, he wasn’t even aware of it! Right now, however, there were more important things to worry about. Julie went back to work at her computer, apparently leaving him to do his business right there. He hesitated, again reluctant to use his diaper in front of her. Not for this. Not if he could help it, right? He turned to leave. Maybe he could use one of the exam rooms. They were built for privacy. “Where are you going, mister? I thought you had to poop.” If he could have colored any more, he would have. “Uh—well, I just thought I’d duck into one of the exam rooms…” But Julie was already shaking her head. “Oh, no you don’t. You can’t go stinking up one of our patient rooms. We’re going to use those rooms. If you’ve got to go, you can do it right here.” Now he paled. “In front of you? I can’t.” She looked at him. “Really? You did it the other day. You’re wearing pants AND a diaper. I can’t see you do it! What’s the big deal?” He was dumbstruck. Did she really not have the same sense of shame that most people had, or did she like embarrassing him? “I don’t want to…do it…in front of someone else. It’s embarrassing.” Julie shrugged and went back to working. “Poop, or don’t poop. But I’ve got work to do, so if you’re going to poop, it will be right in this room with me here. Get over it.” A cramp struck him. He looked at the clock. “Please, Julie,” he heard himself whining, somewhat childishly. Suddenly she gave him a stern look, and he couldn’t help glancing at her purse. Did she have her brush today? “Never mind…” he murmured. The corner of her mouth twitched, and she went back to her work. He walked away from her, trying to get behind her and as far away within the room as he could. It was hard to imagine himself being alone, hard to go standing up. It was just weird. But if that was what Julie wanted, he would make her happy. He squatted a little, trying not to make any noise. He couldn’t help a little grunt, however, as he successfully accomplished his task. He felt the diaper push out, and then could feel the mess against his skin. He was consumed with how gross that felt, and didn’t notice Julie pushing back her chair and walking over to him. “Let’s get that taken care of right away, okay?” she said lightly, all business. He waddled carefully over to the exam bed and lowered his pants gently. A horrible smell came wafting up, and he noticed that she had thoughtfully already closed and locked the door. He lay back and allowed her to change him. It was a much faster process than the previous messy diaper, which had been all over the place. He watched her carefully for signs of disgust or impatience, but saw none. It was almost like she really didn’t mind! Before long he was in a clean, dry diaper—a feeling he was now growing to like. Julie was washing her hands, and he thanked her. “No problem,” she said, seemingly happily. “You’ve been a very good boy today.” At the end of the day, she changed him out of his diaper, and said, “I think that we might finally have a day we could have you over for dinner, if you’re still interested.” “Yes, please!” he exclaimed happily, in a voice he realized was probably a little too loud. Who cared? This was great. They set a date about two weeks later. She’d make supper, and maybe he’d bring some wine. It sounded good to him. He’d get to meet her young boys. Then they’d put them to bed, and…who knew? Almost whistling on his way home, he again thought back to the bizarre turn his life had taken. It was so, so weird, but Julie somehow made it feel right. He didn’t mind wearing the diaper for her at work anymore. He wasn’t sure it all made sense, but he had a hot, smart nurse making his days easier, and touching him in all the right places. He really needed to move this relationship along. He had waited a long time to be with her. It didn’t even occur to him to ask her about not wearing diapers any more. It was what she wanted. Maybe it was better for their patient care, but somewhere inside, he was starting to recognize that her happiness was becoming more and more of a priority. When she smiled, it made him feel wonderful. He was leaving a friend’s house the next night after watching a basketball game, stopping to check his phone, when it happened again. He felt hot liquid rushing down his leg, and had some difficulty stopping it. He felt his sock dampen! He hurriedly got into his car and headed home, grateful it hadn’t happened in front of someone. He was no longer sure he could fix this while working at the office. He started to doubt whether he could control himself at all. Monday, he casually mentioned to Julie at the end of the day that wearing the diaper at work had had an unintended consequence of making him less aware when he urinated. She broke into a smile. “Great! I told you there would be perks.” His face clouded a little. “Yeah, but it’s not a perk when it also happens outside the office.” Her smile faded. “Oh. You mean…have you had accidents?” She tried to look concerned. He didn’t answer, but she could read his expression. She sat down. “Oh,” she said again, more to herself. “Well, that’s a problem. How many times?” “Two,” he replied honestly. “I don’t think anyone saw, but they weren’t just little leaks. So, I’m wondering if you have any ideas about how to keep that from happening.” He pointed to the magnet chart. “I mean, you’re good at solving problems like this, I’d bet. Is there anything I can do here at the office to keep that from happening at home? Do you think Kegel exercises would work?” Obviously, Julie did not want to seem gleeful about this development, but that was truly how she felt. She’d been wondering–hoping, really–that something like this would happen, and it opened opportunities to evolve their relationship sooner than she could have expected. She had to seem concerned for him, however. “Would it? There is no harm in trying, obviously, but it doesn’t seem like it is a problem of muscle weakness. More like behavioral training? You’ve allowed yourself to relax your bladder, and now you’re not paying much attention to it.” She chanced a smile. “It does sound nice not having to worry about such things. Most people would probably envy you.” She continued, “But. You could certainly try the Kegels. Until we see whether they help when you are away from work, however, I think we should consider another option.” She looked hesitant. “I’m not sure you want to hear this, but there are straightforward ways to handle wetting problems like this.” He looked confused, so she gave him a little more info, hoping he’d figure it out. “You know, there are millions of people with leakage problems. You see some of them as patients. How do you tell them to handle it?” “Well, they ought to wear protection until they can….” He trailed off. He couldn’t meet her eyes, as he said, somewhat dully, “You want me to wear a diaper at home, too?” Time to make the case. “It doesn’t matter what I want. But I think you might need to wear a diaper when you go out. What a disaster if a patient saw an accident! What kind of advertisement would that be for you and your practice? I think from a business perspective, just until you have the accidents under control, you don’t really have a choice.” He looked doubtful but concerned as he sat at his computer. He could use some reassurance. She got up and came over to him, sitting next to him and touching his arm. “Look, your diaper is invisible to everyone else. You know that. You and I are the only ones who know about it. It is a personal solution that no one has to know about. It might be embarrassing to you, but you are certainly accustomed to it at this point, and it works. It only makes sense, for a little while, at least.” He nodded. “I know that, logically. It’s just so humiliating. It seems ridiculous for a grown man.” Julie smiled to herself, but was careful not to let that show. It certainly was absurd! He was an adult who had let himself be convinced by her to wet and mess in a diaper, at his workplace! He had let her spank him, not for some sexy game, but for discipline. He had shaved himself and let her clean him, count his bowel movements, and restrict him from using a toilet. He had let himself be led down this path every step of the way. She decided that she could help him here, too. “Nonsense,” she said, stroking his arm. “Being an adult is taking care of your problems. And it only impresses me more that you’d be willing to take such a responsible step.” She paused, thinking. “Why don’t we just send you home in a diaper each evening, and you can change out of it when you are done being out and about? You certainly don’t need to wear it at home, do you? Have you had an accident at home?” He shook his head. Thank goodness. “Fine, then. And if you did, you’d be in private anyway. That’s where you can practice keeping your pants dry. And things will be better before you know it!” She got a perfunctory smile out of him, which was probably about what she could expect here, so she considered it a done deal. Part of him had to know that increasing the amount of time he spent in diapers wouldn’t help his “problem”, right? But he didn’t say anything. She was sure he really didn’t like the diapers, so she wasn’t sure why he was so agreeable to this “solution”. Maybe he was just too naïve and optimistic for his own good. And maybe he trusted her. That was good for him in the long run, but not if he had any interest in fixing this “problem.” She stood up, finished with her work, and said, “When you’re done we can get you changed.” He finished a note and hopped up on the exam table, still deep in thought about his bladder issue. She changed him, this time putting a fresh diaper on him instead of sending him out in his grown-up attire. He noticed and looked a bit glum. Maybe she could perk him up a bit. “We’re still on for Friday dinner, right?” This broke him out of his funk. “Yes! Of course. Um, did you decide for sure what I can bring?” he asked, knowing that he was not really in much of a position to help. He wasn’t much of a cook. Perhaps sensing this, she said, “How about a nice loaf of bread in addition to the wine? We’ll have spaghetti. It’s the boys’ favorite.” That cheered him up, and she was happy to see him leave on a happy note. As they walked together to their cars, she noted the little diaper waddle he had and thought happily that it was the first time she had seen that outside the office. That was progress! Chapter 15 Friday night, he showed up at Julie’s house wearing slacks and a button-down shirt, more casual than work, but still looking nice, he hoped. He was also wearing the diaper she had changed him into before they left that afternoon. She had made it clear that it might be best if he kept it on for his visit to her house. “Oh, you might as well. I would certainly understand if you had an accident at my house, but it’s just simpler if you wear it home and then to my house. I can change you there if you’re wet. I’ll even bring a few diapers home with me.” He looked uncertain even then, until she had said, suppressing a laugh, “And I’m sure you were hoping to get naked with me on the first date anyway.” She knew how to make him feel better about the situation. He had grinned and agreed, and now he stood on her doorstep with a slightly wet diaper under his clothes. He was nervous as they took their relationship to another level, and felt awkward that he was doing it in a wet diaper. He didn’t feel very romantic. But when Julie answered the door, dressed up in a pretty dress, her face beaming at seeing him there, he forgot all about the diaper. She was pretty in scrubs, but she looked much better in real clothes! As the door opened, delicious smells of spaghetti sauce wafted toward him, and his stomach stirred. He handed her the bread, some artisan loaf he’d found at a bakery—an actual bakery!—and she ushered him inside. Her little boys were waiting just inside the door, obviously carefully placed there for introductions. Thomas, a 3-yr-old, gave him a high-five when offered, but Andrew, 18 months old, hid behind his mother. They ran off to watch TV while Julie invited him into the kitchen of what turned out to be a modest but nicely kept apartment. They talked about the day while the noodles cooked. At one point, Julie’s hand dropped to his pants, patting and slightly squeezing his diaper. She had done this before at work, almost mechanically, so he didn’t find it strange. “Do you need a change before we eat?” she asked as the food neared completion. “I think I can wait,” he replied, and helped carry dinner to the table. During dinner, where Andrew sat in his high chair but Thomas had a booster seat, they talked about the boys, who warmed up quickly to him once they were sharing food. After dinner, the boys went to play in the family room with some action figures, as he helped Julie clear and wash the dishes. When that was done, she said, “I bet you’re soaked now. Let’s get you changed quickly before the boys need to be changed.” Suddenly, Thomas ran into the kitchen. “Mommy, Andrew pooped!” Julie smiled apologetically and said, “Or, maybe I’ll take care of them first. Do you mind?” He smiled. “It’s fine. If you’d rather, I can actually use the bathroom. I’m helpful that way.” She frowned as she left to find Andrew. “Oh, no. No, just give me a minute and I’ll be ready for you.” He wasn’t sure why she didn’t want him using the bathroom here. It seemed like an easy solution to unburden her, and it wasn’t like there were patients waiting. He’d gotten better at handling his diapers, but she still seemed dismissive of his attempts to help. He sat and chatted with Thomas, until Thomas was called to come get changed. Andrew emerged wearing pajamas, and resumed playing without so much as a glance at him, which told him Andrew was growing more comfortable with him. Apparently Thomas was just wet, but he dutifully followed directions and returned a moment later, also wearing pajamas, very like his brother’s. Then he heard his own name called. The boys didn’t look up, and, smiling ruefully, he followed the sound of her voice back to her bedroom. She was tossing a small wrapped up diaper into a sealed container, and had a large fresh one sitting on her bed. “Time for my big boy’s turn,” she said, smiling, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the cheek, and turned him so he was facing away from her bed. Then her hands came down to his chest, and she playfully pushed him gently back toward the bed. He laughed as he fell onto the bed, then, catching the hint, unbuckled his pants as she locked the door. She changed him without any extra touching, even though he hardened as she touched him. But she pulled the front of the diaper up against his erect penis, pointed up toward his belly, and taped him up quickly. She then patted the front of his diaper, and said with a smile, “You put that away for now. Maybe there’ll be time for that later.” She left the room. He took a deep breath. He’d waited a long time for her to touch him outside of work. But—of course—this wasn’t the time, with her kids awake in the next room. So he took a few deep breaths and tried to distract himself enough that his erection would subside. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy when she left his penis in the “up” position. In this position, there seemed like there was more friction and movement against that sensitive part. This combination seemed to make it more difficult to go down on its own. And she had taped the diaper so tight that it was hard to adjust himself, or even touch himself at all. He could barely sneak a finger down to push himself into a more comfortable position after he softened, if he sucked in his gut. He’d kind of gotten used to this type of frustration, but it was still annoying. In fact, he was frequently hard inside his diaper, due both to her deliberate ministrations and also from her more practical touching during changing time. It was certainly one reason he didn’t object anymore to the diaperings. As his desire for her grew, every diaper change was a little magical, so that now almost anything diaper-related made him think of sex. He could hardly see a diaper or smell baby powder without getting a little excited. He was a little overdue for an orgasm; that would certainly help. Normally, he’d have just gone home after work and taken care of that tension himself. But she’d left the diaper on him after work, which put a kink in his plans. So he was ready! And it seemed likely that tonight the reward might be worth all he’d allowed to happen to him this past month or two. Finally, he felt he could leave the bedroom without a visible erection under his diaper. He rejoined the little family as the boys had a snack and read a story before bed. For a while after they were asleep, he and Julie sat up and talked. Eventually, Julie winked at him, and said, “It might just be time to take that diaper off.” In her bedroom, she laid him down on her bed. He sprang to attention as soon as she untaped his diaper. He was surprised and a little alarmed to see he was wet, but was distracted enough by impending events that he didn’t care. Julie noticed his surprise, however, and commented on it. “You didn’t know?” Blushing, he shook his head. “Glad you were tucked away in one of these, then!” Then she rolled it up and tossed it away. Julie cleaned him off, as usual, and this time, did not rediaper him. She cooed to him about how happy he made her, and how she wanted to make him happy. Her soft, warm hand moved up and down his member, and he was in a state of bliss. She reached over to her bedside table, pumped out a little hand lotion, and kept going. He was a little too ready for this, from her, right now. He came quickly, spurting over his belly, even up to his chest. He gasped, and eventually opened his eyes to see Julie smiling fondly at him. She cleaned him off and laid down next to him. “That’s been a long time ‘coming’, hasn’t it?” she asked playfully. “I’ve been sort of teasing you for quite a while.” “Yeah,” he panted. “You have.” He smiled. “But I forgive you. Your hands are sooo nice.” His eyes found hers. “But…I’m sure you’ve been waiting a while as well.” His own hand stroked her stomach. Her breath caught. “Well, perhaps I have. What are you prepared to do about that?” She coyly looked back at him. He smiled. “Anything you’d like! What’s your pleasure, Miss Julie?” “Ooh, ‘Miss Julie’? I could get used to that,” she said, then hummed a little with pleasure as his hands played over her clothes. “I do have a rule about no intercourse on the first date, so no use waiting for you to, um, recharge. But perhaps there is some other way you might be able to help?” She smiled as his face disappeared under her dress. She could get used to this, too. Chapter 16 He left not too long after he’d brought her to two separate climaxes. He felt proud to have shown her his willingness—and ability—to pleasure her this way, and hopeful about this relationship. There were many parts of it that were strange beyond belief, if he was honest with himself. But Julie was special. She was smart and funny, and they clearly seemed to be made for each other. He was still quite sure he could fix this bladder issue. No matter what Julie said, it was weird to try to be the man in the relationship if she was changing his diaper. If he could fix that accidental wetting problem, and not wear a diaper outside of work, that would help his male ego a lot. He wanted to be Julie’s man, not her baby. She was patient, but he worried that if things kept going this way, he’d lose her. Of course, he needn’t have worried. Julie was thrilled with their date, happy with their surface relationship, and ecstatic that he had accepted wearing a diaper in her house. She was setting some important precedents, and he hadn’t really objected. She would dictate the times and manner of sex. He wouldn’t assume he could use her bathroom. And he seemed willing—and capable—of servicing her, which was always a good thing in a relationship. Over the next few weeks, they saw each other often. He dined with them frequently, and really enjoyed getting to know the energetic boys better. They came to expect his visits, and requested him to play with them down on the floor. They would tackle him, and he would tickle them, and Julie would watch, smiling. He always wore a diaper at her house. She did not want him leaking on her furniture, she said, and it was hard for him to argue, now that he wet sometimes without realizing it. At his own house, he went without a diaper, but with only intermittent success. He found his underwear, and sometimes his pants, wet every few days. This drove him crazy. He was sure that if he concentrated, he could solve the problem. But as he spent more and more time with Julie outside of work, he spent less time without a diaper on. And so there was less and less time to work on the problem. One night, Julie took him to bed after changing him out of his last wet diaper. They made love, and afterward basked a bit in the afterglow. “I was wondering if you might want to spend more time with us. The boys love you,” she said, adding shyly, “and I might, too.” His heart raced as he took in her words. “You do?” He reached out for her hand. She looked down demurely. “I do.” Her eyes met his. “Is that a problem for work?” He smiled broadly. “Who cares? I love you, too. We’ll make it work.” “If anyone can, I bet we can. We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” She smiled at him. “Let’s get you ready for bed.” After he had a warm, clean diaper taped onto him, they lay in bed happily for a bit, lost in their own thoughts. She eventually spoke up tentatively. “What would you think…about moving in with us?” She rushed on to explain. “It might be easier for my boys. They’ve grown to expect you here, and are confused when you aren’t. It might be a little tight in terms of space around here, but cozy can be nice, too.” He thought about it. “That sounds great,” he said quickly. He wanted to spend every minute with Julie. “Would I give up my apartment?” She shrugged. “If you want. You don’t have to decide right away. We could just try it for a while.” They weren’t talking about anything permanent, so it wasn’t intimidating. He beamed. “I’m in! Let’s try it.” The next night, after supper, they spent some time talking about the logistics of such a move. They decided on the following weekend, and talked about what he might bring. He wouldn’t really need a moving truck, since her apartment was essentially full. But there were a few things he’d like around, and his clothes. As they cleared the dishes, she looked at him sideways. “You know, it would mean that you have to wear diapers 24/7. I’m still not having you leak on my furniture. Are you ready to man up for that?” He grimaced a little. He hadn’t really thought of that. And that was a big question, wasn’t it? She was laying it out there for him. How much did he want her? Enough to put up with round-the-clock diapers? She saw him hesitate and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, come on.” He wasn’t eager to concede this point right now. Maybe he could put off this conversation to consider how to convince her. “We can talk about it.” She turned to face him. “Well, we’re kind of talking about it now. And it’s not negotiable on my end. My boys need a good role model. To them, the answer to your wetting problem is pretty obvious. You have to wear diapers if you wet your big-boy pants. It wouldn’t make sense to them if you didn’t follow the same rules. I can’t confuse them, and I also don’t happen to like stains and odors.” He looked down. It was hard to argue against her logic. “But how am I going to get better at this if I’m always wearing those things?” She came to him and put her arms around him. “We’ll work on it if that is important to you. But safety—and hygiene—first, you know?” She kissed him. “Guess it makes moving in a little easier, right? No need to bring any underwear.” She smiled at him. He loved her smile. Nevertheless, he resisted, feeling trapped. Wearing diapers was still embarrassing to him. He looked away. “But…I want to be a man for you, not a little boy. How can you love me if you’re changing my…” He couldn’t even say it to her. “Taking care of a medical issue IS being a man,” she reminded him firmly, frowning gently. “Being a good role model to my boys, taking responsibility for yourself, being a good doctor, those are all part of being a grown-up. You ARE a man to me. I don’t care where you go pee-pee.” Her hand traveled down his side and to the front of his pants. “Now, I’m not going to hear another word about it. Instead, it feels like you’re wet, and I’d like to change you and let you show me what kind of man you are.” She squeezed his wet diaper suggestively. He hardened instantly, and she smiled. “Mmm, that’s my big boy.” He wondered for a moment if he’d ever won an argument with her. Then her hand pulled at his insistently, and he decided that, for now, it didn’t really matter. Chapter 17 The boxes were unpacked, supper was served and cleared, and he had just finished the dishes. They had spent the better part of the day moving some of his stuff into her apartment. She didn’t have a lot of extra space, so he was just moving in his clothes (sans underpants), pantry supplies, and books. Julie was getting her boys settled with a coloring activity. He walked into the family room, and felt the pressure start to build in his bowels that told him he was going to need to go. And that meant that it was time to confront Julie about this. He needed to say something now, since it would definitely come up again and again. Time to make a stand. There was no reason he couldn’t poop in the potty at her house. He stood in the entrance to the room, and Julie looked up at him. “Um, do you have a minute?” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. She smiled and stood up, coming over to him. He turned and walked back over to the kitchen table, where the kids would not hear them. “I need to go to the bathroom, and I’d like to use the toilet.” She appeared confused. “Why?” He’d seen Julie take this approach before, playing dumb. It annoyed him, if he was honest. But he managed to keep his temper. “Because I LIKE to use the toilet. I’m a grownup and I need to go.” Her face cleared as she understood. “You need to poop?” she asked. When he nodded, Julie’s face grew firm. “We’ve already talked about this. But I’ll explain again. I want you to use your diaper in this house. I don’t want you in my bathroom except to shave, shower, or brush your teeth. Understand?” she said, looking intently into his face. “Say it back to me so I know you heard me.” “But—“ “No, repeat it to me.” He sighed. “You want me to use my diaper.” “And stay out of my bathroom except for what?” “Taking a shower, shaving, and brushing my teeth.” She patted his cheek. “That’s a good boy.” She turned to go. He couldn’t give up that easily. “But why? That seems unreasonable. I don’t like to…you know, poop…in my diaper. I’d really like to use the potty. And…and…it has to be easier for you if I…take care of it…like an adult rather than if you have to change my diaper, especially when it’s…you know…” She shook her head impatiently. “No, it’s not easier for me. Because it means that you have to bother me to come change you out of your diaper, then wait for you to go, then change you back into your diaper. So it is actually taking more of my time if you don’t poop in your diaper like a good boy. I’m sure you aren’t telling me that your stupid modesty is worth wasting that much of my time, are you?” Her face looked stern now. He didn’t want to make her angry, so this was a fine line to walk. He’d learned that upsetting her would not help him win an argument with her. But his need for a toilet was becoming more insistent. “Of course not, it’s just…” he trailed off, considering a different tack. “I don’t understand why you don’t care about my feelings about this.” Her face turned more tender. “I do care. But.” She caressed his cheek. “Your feelings about pooping are silly, and we have talked about them over and over. You get embarrassed about the funniest things, and I view one of my jobs as getting you over that childish hump. Sometimes being a big boy means doing things you don’t like. And this particular thing is very important to me. Do you understand?” He nodded sullenly, despairing that she would not give in on letting him use her potty. “I can’t hear your manners,” she reminded softly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, as the pressure in his bowels increased. “It’s just that—“ “Ah-ah,” she interrupted sharply. “That’s the end of that conversation. We’re not having another word about my private potty. Understand?” He nodded, and, when he noticed a pause, said, “Yes, ma’am.” She grabbed his hand, and started to pull him back into the family room. “Then come on back in and join the family. Enough of this silly talk.” He pulled back. “Um, can you please just, uh, give me a moment in here,” he asked, looking around a little desperately. “I just need, like, a minute of privacy. Please. At least give me that.” Julie stepped back and looked him up and down slyly. She suppressed a smile. “No, I don’t think so. I want to show you something in the family room.” He started to object, but when her eyebrows went up, he silenced himself and followed her reluctantly. She went to her boys, who were starting to argue about each other stealing crayons. At least she allowed him to stand behind her, pretending to admire the boys’ drawings, instead of in her line of sight, which was a small blessing. He really didn’t want to poop in front of her, despite everything. He felt his bowels moving, and yet still tried to hold off. “Can I get you anything from the kitchen?” he asked as he started to sweat a little. Anything to let him poop in private. Julie paused and looked around at him. She smiled wickedly. “Oh, no, thank you. Being together is why it’s so much fun to live together.” His face drained. She wanted him to fill his diaper here and now. Not that there was much choice. Damn that fiber! So much harder to fight against it. As she turned her head back to her kids, he let it out, aware that he was grunting softly, but unable to quiet himself completely. He partially squatted to finish. The boys were still busy arguing and coloring, and—oddly—Julie did not react to his act of submission. She had to have heard him. At this point, for goodness sake, she had to smell him. But she kept talking to the boys as if he weren’t there. He didn’t know what to do. Obviously, he needed to be changed. And clearly, Julie must have known this. Did she want him to interrupt her? Or, since she knew, did she want him just to wait quietly? In the office she changed him immediately. Were the rules different at home? He hated to draw attention to himself in this state, so he decided to wait quietly. What he really didn’t want to do was move. But two minutes later, when Julie had shown no sign of paying him any attention, he subtly (he hoped) cleared his voice. Julie looked up at him, and said unexpectedly, “Hey, could you do me a favor? Could you sit here with the boys for a second while I grab them a snack? It’ll just take a second but I don’t like to leave them alone with weapons as dangerous as crayons.” Sitting was the last thing in the world he wanted to do right now. But before he could answer, she jumped up and indicated that he was to take her place at the little coffee table that now doubled as a craft table. He looked at her, concerned, trying to talk with his eyes. “But I—“ She interrupted with one hand on his back and one on his shoulder. “I’ll just stop you there. I think the words you were looking for were, yes, ma’am, right?” She smiled knowingly at him. “Your little…situation…will wait a few minutes. We’re all friends here.” He let himself be guided to the floor. She said helpfully, “Kneeling would be okay, if you don’t want to sit, whichever is most comfortable.” He quickly knelt, leaning forward and trying not to disturb the load in his diaper. She stood behind him now, and he suddenly felt her hands on his head, pulling it back, back, back. He looked up to see her smirking and leaning down to kiss him. “I love it when you are good for me,” she said. He agreeably moved to meet her lips, only realizing as they kissed that she had forced him back on his heels. He could feel his messy diaper becoming messier. She met his eyes briefly, noting the flinching expression on his face. “Just give me a minute. Patience is a virtue.” It was more than a minute. The foul smell enveloped him. He tried to distract himself by asking what Andrew was making. He was mostly scribbling, but determinedly using very specific colors. He would have been a lot more amused had he not been almost entirely focused on his diaper. To make it worse, after about five minutes, he found he could not keep kneeling because his foot was falling asleep. He tried to shift his weight, feeling a squishing around his bottom, but it didn’t help. He tried to pull his foot out from under him, but as he could not feel his foot, he lost his balance and landed hard on his cushioned butt. New waves of stink wafted up toward him, and he choked on the smell. Andrew was oblivious, thank goodness. But he couldn’t exactly make himself comfortable sitting in his mess. How long would it be before Julie returned? He was getting annoyed at her absence, and he was unhappy at the cooling mess in his diaper that, the more he thought about, didn’t even need to be there! He struggled to his feet, shook off the tingling in his feet, and headed to the kitchen. He did take care to walk with his legs apart so that he didn’t make things even messier. Julie saw him waddling into the kitchen and stifled a laugh. She was pushing him a bit tonight to see how submissive he really was. But this night was important to setting their hierarchy in this new stage in their relationship. Apparently, while he was certainly malleable, he still had a little fight in him. She didn’t mind that at all. She didn’t want a wimp for a boyfriend (or husband, if all went well). It was good if he could stand up for himself. But he needed to know that in their relationship, she was the boss, and there were consequences to disobeying her. “Where have you BEEN?” he asked her once he got to the kitchen, his tone a little more angry than he intended. He was so uncomfortable and embarrassed. “If I’m going to have to use my diaper, I need you to change me! It’s…” His voice choked a little. He tried to keep himself from crying. He was so frustrated and uncomfortable. “It’s just so…” Julie was in the middle of pouring milk into sippy cups and getting out goldfish. She stopped and stared at him. “What are YOU doing out here?” she replied icily, staring him into silence. After he trailed off unhappily, she continued, “I gave you what I thought was a simple instruction: to sit with the boys until I got back. I didn’t want them left alone. I was making them a snack that would keep them busy long enough that I could change you. Now please go back and wait with them. Please do not make me upset with you.” “Okay,” he grumbled after a moment. “I just don’t understand what is taking so long.” She glared at him. “Well, I’m sorry you’ve had to spend time with my kids. I promise you that within a few minutes, you and I will be spending quite a bit of time alone together, one on one. Now go sit down at the coffee table.” It must have been the continued preoccupation with his diaper that kept him from hearing the danger in her voice. He sullenly turned around and waddled back out to stand near the coffee table. Rather than sitting again, he decided he would stand to wait. The kids were getting restless. Andrew had stood up and was throwing the crayons at his brother. “Andrew, please don’t throw crayons,” he offered tentatively. Andrew ignored him. This would be a good time to redirect him, he thought, sitting him back down, making him pick up the crayons, or giving him a different activity to do. But that would require him to bend over or sit again, and he didn’t want to move. The weighty lump in his diaper immobilized him. So his intervention was not very helpful, and Andrew threw another crayon. Thomas, of course, did not like that, and soon the brothers were enjoying launching different colors at each other. When Julie entered the room, she took in the scene quickly, pausing only a moment before yelling, “What is going on here? Boys! Pick up the crayons and put them in the box. Now.” The boys quickly complied. Maybe it helped that she was carrying snacks, or the mommy’s-mad tone, but they seemed to know that Julie meant business. She turned to him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re not sitting like I asked, and that you weren’t helping here. Go wait for me in our bedroom.” Like the boys, he finally recognized that tone, and didn’t argue. He was just happy that she would do something. He waddled into the bedroom and stood near the bed, where there was a changing pad lying next to a large unopened diaper, powder, and wipes. He let his eyes wander around this room, which was now his as well as hers. His eyes settled on a chair from the dining room that was sitting near the window. Was that here before? His musings were interrupted by Julie’s businesslike entrance. “Lie down on the bed on the towel, please,” she said brusquely. She turned and locked the door. Sensing her angry mood, he obeyed quickly. Those boys could really make her mad! He decided he would help ease her stress by showing how he could cooperate. Getting out of this diaper more quickly suited him very well. He laid back into the by-now very familiar position she had shown him. She moved the box of wipes to within reach, and untaped his diaper. She pulled it forward, and said, “Up.” He raised his legs and grabbed his knees. His skin felt cool to the air as the odor suddenly worsened noticeably in the room. He felt her use the diaper to clean the bulk of his mess off, then fold the diaper under him. “You know,” she said as she drew a cold wipe down and across his hips. “We’re all going to need to work together if this is going to work. Those little guys take a lot of work, and I’m going to need your full cooperation. Down,” she said. This time, as he was focused on her words, it took him a moment to realize she had commanded him to lower his legs. He put his feet on the bed, realizing that she did not expect him to say anything. Julie got a clean wipe and used it to clean his groin. He grew hard as she cleansed his penis and testicles, then pulled them to one side, then the other. He hoped she would notice and touch him a little. The door was locked, wasn’t it? But if she noticed, she apparently wasn’t in the mood. His penis twitched, straight up in the air, untouched. He fought the urge to reach down and at least tuck it somewhere so it wouldn’t look so ridiculous. Instead, she continued what he realized was a lecture. “I was NOT pleased with your behavior tonight.” “Up,” she instructed. She finished the cleaning ritual, as she continued, “After I specifically asked you for patience, you came in and yelled at me. If you’d taken time to notice, you’d have seen that I had set up the bedroom to change you, and was making the boys a snack so we’d have time alone.” He was silent, knowing she needed to vent. He realized she was right. She bundled the messy diaper up and wrapped it in a bag. Then she used a new wipe to clean her hands, then tossed all of them into the sealed trash can. “Worse than that, you left the boys alone when I’d directly asked you to watch them. They were getting restless, and I needed you there. You left them alone, and they started making a mess.” He waited for her to grab a fresh diaper, but instead she stood for a moment with her arms crossed. He propped himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, honey,” he offered. “It’s just that in the past, you’ve always been so quick about helping me when…that…happens.” She nodded. “Because we’ve been at the office, and we’ve needed to be very discrete. But I’m juggling a lot more balls here at home. I was very disappointed with you tonight.” His cheeks burned. He resented being made to poop in his diaper and then not being changed. Didn’t it seem like too much to ask of anyone? “Look, I said I’m sorry. It’s…just…so gross. You don’t understand. If you want me to use a diaper like that, you kind of need to help me out when it happens. I’m not sure what you want me to do.” She coolly regarded him. “I want you to listen to me and cooperate. Apparently you don’t understand how important that is to me.” She turned around and sat in the chair by the dresser. “So now I’m going to make sure you understand how important it is to me.” He paled as he saw her reach over to the dresser and pick up her hairbrush. His eyes darted around. She had implied this could happen again, but he didn’t think… “Um, I totally understand, Julie. So…but, um…isn’t there some other way? I—I get it now. I understand how important it is to you. I’ll listen from now on. There’s no need for…” But she sat there stonily, staring at him. “If you want to show me that you know how to listen to me and follow my directions, I suggest you come stand next to me right now.” He was sweating a little. He’d been across her lap before and didn’t want to do it again. “But…your boys are…” “They’ll be fine. They’ve got a snack and a little video they love. COME. HERE.” He slowly stood, not sure how else to delay the inevitable. He took a step forward, then another. Her sober face did not promise mercy. When he’d gotten near enough, considering what else he could say to change her mind, she reached up suddenly and grabbed his ear, pulling firmly. Searing pain erupted from his ear. He bent down to relieve it and suddenly found himself over his girlfriend’s lap. She shifted and he found that one of her legs was over both of his. He couldn’t move. He stared at the floor, his stomach in knots. He felt something cool on his bottom. She rubbed him with her brush. “When I tell you to do something, like sit with my kids, or to come stand near me, there is a REASON. I. WANT. YOU. TO. DO. IT.” Each word was suddenly punctuated with a sharp stinging smack to his rear end. It stopped for a moment, and the pain seeped in. He gasped. That wasn’t her hand. She was using the brush right away. This was much worse than last time. “If I can stop to explain, I will. If I don’t explain, you need to understand that I. WILL. EXPLAIN. WHEN. I CAN. JUST. FOLLOW. MY. DIRECTIONS.” He gasped again. It was hard to breathe when she was spanking him this hard and fast. The lecture and spanking went on until he was crying. Crying because of the pain, and crying because he had disappointed Julie. At some point along the line, she stopped talking, but he didn’t notice. Finally, he noticed she had stopped spanking. She let him stop crying, then helped him stand. He stood before her, hands holding his bottom, sniffling. “Look at me, sweetie.” He had trouble meeting her eyes. “Look at me.” She guided his chin upward until their eyes met. “I – I’m sorry,” he sniffled. She smiled. “I know you are. And I’m not mad at you anymore. Give me a hug.” She stood and they hugged for a long time. Eventually she looked at the clock. “We have a few minutes before the end of the video. There are certainly lots of things we could have done during that time if you hadn’t needed a spanking… but for tonight, let’s get you in a nice clean diaper. How does that sound?” He nodded, and laid down on the bed. His bottom still stung, and felt so hot. She retrieved another diaper, and before taping it on him, rubbed some lotion, then some powder, onto his skin. When he was diapered, he stood up. “Can I help you with anything?” Noticing the improved attitude, Julie beamed. “Sure. Why don’t you clean up the boys’ snacks and sippy cups, and I’ll get them ready for bed?” After he dressed himself, they worked to get the boys into bed and the house cleaned up. They snuggled on the sofa watching a movie before Julie yawned and said it was time for bed. Julie let him brush his teeth in her bathroom, then shooed him out so she could pee before bed. She came out and grabbed a new diaper, tossing it onto the bed. “Okay, time for a bedtime diaper.” He had indeed wet himself while she was in the bathroom, so he took his pants off and laid down. Julie cleaned him up, and then, as he hoped, let her hand linger on him until he became hard. She turned down the lights, seductively removed her clothes, and took advantage of his nakedness. As had become their habit, he pleasured her first “to get her in the mood,” then entered her. They came together. Afterward, they lay together for a few minutes, and he felt her hands touch his bottom, still hot from the spanking. “Sorry about the punishment. But I still think it’s better than letting any anger fester unspoken. Don’t you?” At this, her hand drifted around to the front of him. He had to smile. The sex had certainly salvaged the night very nicely for him. “I guess so,” he said thoughtfully. “I still think we could talk about…” He paused when he saw Julie’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Maybe we can talk about that later. I’m tired now.” She nodded in approval at his discretion. “I bet you are. I’d better get your diaper on you so you don’t wet my bed.” She couldn’t see him roll his eyes, which was good. She cleaned him again, taped him up, then exclaimed, “Oh! I just remembered something I made for you!” Confused, he sat partway up on the bed as he watched her dart to the closet and search for something. “Here it is! Just finished it last night. It’s sort of a welcome-to-our-apartment gift. Hope you like it.” She held out what looked to him like a t-shirt. Wait, no, it was too long—what was that? A nightshirt? She waited for him to say something, good or bad, about her creation—would he accept this next step? Then she saw his wrinkled brow and realized why he was silent. He didn’t know what this garment was. Julie was happy to explain. “It’s a onesie! It can be your jammies now that you live here. You wear it to bed! The boys have always worn one, and I thought it looked so cute on them, I decided to make one for you. The nice thing for you is that it completely covers your diaper. I know you’re still a little self-conscious about that. Do you like it?” He had no idea. He hadn’t been around kids before, and wasn’t familiar with it. But she was so happy, and he was touched by the idea that she would make clothing for him. So he said, “Of course! It’s wonderful.” Her response, a broad smile, made him feel happy. He reached out for it, and she shook her head. She wrinkled it up in her hands, intending to help him into it. He sat waiting, and she stretched it over his head. It fell around him like a shirt, but was quite long. He looked down, frowning. Julie pushed him back. “Lie down, silly. There are snaps.” He let her push him back, and felt her hands pulling at the shirt. It seemed to be connected by something underneath. She was busy for a moment, then patted his diaper. “Ok. Sit up and let’s see how it fits.” He dutifully sat up, feeling the shirt pull downward as he did so. He looked down and saw that the shirt covered the diaper. He didn’t mind that. “Good so far. Can you stand up in front of the mirror?” As he did, he saw that it was just a long t-shirt that snapped at his crotch. He liked not having to see the diaper, though it wasn’t perfect. The bulge from it was still obvious. He looked more closely at the fabric. The shirt was light blue, and had yellow rocket ships on it, interspersed with stars. She saw him looking. “Sorry, this was the only fabric I had around.” He smiled and kissed her. “It’s fine. I like it. I used to love rockets. They remind me of my youth. It was so nice of you to think of me.” She stood back and looked at him. She reached forward and pulled at the crotch, then smiled, apparently pleased. “I believe that is going to work well!” Then she frowned slightly. “But those snaps are kind of tough to handle if you can’t see them well. If it’s all the same to you, why don’t you let me be the one to snap and unsnap them. You don’t really have any need to bother with them.” “Yes, ma’am,” he responded instinctually. But he was still thinking about the childish fabric. He didn’t really love it, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the other stuff he put up with, for God’s sake. And tonight, he certainly wanted to stay on Julie’s good side. His bottom still radiated heat, trapped by the diaper. But lying close to Julie overnight, the heat faded, and he felt safe, falling asleep with her arm around him. Julie was awake for a while, musing over how perfectly this evening had played out. She’d made it clear firmly but lovingly that she was in charge, and he had eventually accepted it, as she knew he would. He’d be careful about listening to her, at least for a while, until he’d need another reminder. He understood that the potty was off-limits. She could keep him out of the bathroom except for supervised visits. He’d help with the boys, which was wonderful. And she’d really only gotten started. Now that he was here, his training could really ramp up. Never out of diapers. Never unsupervised in a bathroom. And now in a onesie, which would help keep his hands from mischief. She smiled and closed her eyes. Chapter 18 The next day was Sunday, and he slept in. When he woke up, he found Julie had already awakened. As he heard the boys chattering happily in the kitchen, he understood why. Small children didn’t allow parents to sleep in very late. He was immediately aware of how hot he was. Well, not all of him, but his crotch. He was confused for a second until his hands found his diaper. He had not slept in his diaper before, and he found he was a little sweaty. But then he wondered if it was really sweat. He pushed at his diaper and was relieved that it didn’t seem wet. But he couldn’t see that little indicator strip now that he wore his onesie. He could unsnap the onesie and look, but—oh, crap, Julie had told him not to do that himself, hadn’t she? Well, he probably didn’t really need to look. He could tell he needed to pee, pretty badly. He got out of bed and turned toward her bathroom. He sighed. That’s right. It was her bathroom, not his. Since he was wearing a diaper, he didn’t have a reason to go in there, did he? She seemed very territorial about it, for some reason. Maybe issues from a past relationship? Otherwise it seemed weird. Should he find her and talk about that? It needed to happen. But—he could hear her, busy with the kids. This wasn’t a good time to get into it. And…he really needed to go. For now, he decided he might as well use this diaper. I mean, he was wearing it, wasn’t he? It would certainly make Julie happy, and that might make for a nice day! He relaxed and emptied his bladder into his diaper, and was somewhat surprised to notice that he was enjoying the sensation. Peeing was nice, and he had gotten used to the spreading warmth in his diaper. It didn’t really feel wet until later. Holy cow! There was a lot of pee this morning! That made sense—he was sure that was true most mornings, but this was the first time he’d peed into his diaper in the morning, so it was just more immediate to him. The diaper held it, but became extremely heavy and swollen. It pulled downward, which in turn pulled the onesie down. He could actually feel the fabric put some pressure on his shoulders. When he was done, he looked around for something to put on over his diaper/onesie combination, and found some loose fitting shorts. It was awkward to dress over such a full saggy diaper. He headed out to the kitchen, aware that he couldn’t even really walk normally with his diaper this wet. When Julie saw him waddling out into the kitchen, she stifled a laugh, enjoying his toddler-like appearance. She got up and went over to kiss him warmly, hoping her mirth did not show. After the kiss, she looked down and tugged on his shorts. “You can lose these, sweetie. You don’t need shorts with a onesie.” He was a little self-conscious, though. “I don’t mind. It feels funny not to wear pants.” “No, no,” she said. “That makes it harder to see when you need to be changed. Please take them off. You can leave them in the bedroom.” She pointed to her sons, obliviously wearing only their diapers and onesies. He sighed. “But—“ “Ah, ah,” she interrupted. “I don’t like that word. It makes me think you want to argue.” She was sort of smiling, and her eyes sparkled. She didn’t seem mad. She reached down and pulled down his shorts, letting them fall to the floor. Then she stood back up and looked him in the eye. “Do you want to argue?” Now there was a flash of a challenge in her face, though she still had a hint of of a smile on her face, as if she already knew the answer. He swallowed and shook his head. He did not like challenging her. “No, ma’am.” She smiled her radiant smile at him. How could she look so pretty first thing in the morning? It was simple–but not always easy–to make her happy. “What would you like for breakfast?” After returning his shorts to the bedroom, he joined the boys for some eggs, toast, and coffee. Julie noted his lack of pants with a nod of approval. He was very self-conscious of this, but the boys certainly did not notice, so he shrugged and sat down for breakfast. He did not enjoy the squishy feeling of sitting in such a wet diaper, but Julie was busy and he assumed she would attend to him when able. After last night, he wasn’t going to complain about not being changed immediately. Sure enough, after breakfast, Julie changed the boys. He cleaned up the dishes from breakfast and felt like he needed to move his bowels. That was more typical for him than the accident last night. But suddenly Julie was there, waving to him to join her in the bedroom. He knew he should probably mention something about moving his bowels, but didn’t want to bring it up. So he was changed quickly and was very happy to get into a dry diaper. She then tended to herself, closing and locking the bathroom door for a few minutes. He found himself alone in the bedroom, with an urgent need to poop. He knew it was useless to ask about the potty, so he filled his diaper, happy at least to have some privacy. His task finished, he realized he was sort of stuck. He didn’t want to interrupt Julie, but also didn’t want to sit down. He awkwardly stood outside the bathroom door, waiting for her. After a few moments, the door unlocked and opened, and he smiled at her bashfully. She looked at him, obviously wondering why he was waiting at the door, then gave a quick sniff. “Seems like you could use another change, my friend,” she observed while she readied her toothbrush. “Why don’t you brush your teeth and shave, and then we can take care of that?” Later, wiping his bottom for the second time in ten minutes, she asked, “So do you usually poop right away after breakfast?” He nodded. “Well, since I started taking those fiber pills every day, I do, anyway,” he said, somewhat annoyed. He gasped a little as she poked her wipe into his bottom. He still couldn’t get used to that. He had to remember to ask her if it was still necessary. But Julie was nodding. “It will make it easier, though, if your messy diapers are predictable,” she said. “It helps me plan. And I’m sure you don’t want surprises, right?” He had to agree with her there. Even worse than pooping in his diaper would be doing it at work. “We can work with that. But maybe we’ll wait to change your wet diaper tomorrow morning until after you’ve pooped. Diapers aren’t cheap.” She helped him off with his onesie, then went to wash her hands. “Why don’t you shower, then we’ll get you into a nice clean diaper and some grown-up clothes for the day?” He liked the sound of a shower. He did notice that Julie didn’t really leave the bathroom during his shower. Women take so much time getting ready! he thought, though he certainly did not express this. He enjoyed his shower and the feeling of being undiapered for a few minutes. He had finished washing his hair when he heard a knock on the translucent shower door and saw Julie nearby. He opened it a crack. “I noticed some stubble down there this morning. I left a razor in the shower if you want to take care of that.” “Sure,” he said, agreeably. At home he didn’t shave his diaper area every day, but he certainly could. If it kept Julie happy, he was all for it. The happier she was, the more likely he could find a time to make her listen to his concerns about not being allowed in her bathroom, or to change himself. When he was done, he found a fresh diaper waiting for him on the bed. He dried off, combed his hair, and applied some deodorant, but Julie still wasn’t around. Still naked, he poked his head out of the bedroom, aware that—in this house, anyway—he couldn’t really get dressed without his diaper. But she wasn’t in the hall. He could hear her talking to the boys in the family room. Again he was stuck with a dilemma. He didn’t want to bother or annoy her, but he felt foolish just hanging out naked. He decided to get dressed without the diaper, and just let her put it on him when she was ready. As it happened, Julie walked in as he was pulling on his pants. “Whoa, cowboy! Forgetting something?” she laughed. He let the pants drop and reddened. “No, of course not,” he said. “I just thought…” She pushed him gently to his back on the bed. “You thought what? That you’d put on your grown-up pants without a diaper? That is not a good idea in your condition.” His condition? he thought. “I can hold it for a while,” he protested. She powdered him and pulled the diaper between his legs. “Maybe, but we don’t know how long. If I’m not here when you come out, I’d like you to come find me before getting dressed.” “Naked?!” he asked. “Well, or with your shirt on. Or you could text me. How about that?” He nodded, then caught himself. “Yes, ma’am. I just don’t like to be dependent on you for everything.” She ducked into her bathroom to wash off her hands. He stood and resumed putting his pants on. She returned to the bedroom and patted his cheek. “Oh, sweetie, you aren’t. It’s no great shame that you aren’t an expert at changing diapers. Men traditionally aren’t,” she smiled, patting the front of his diaper. He was going to comment on that when Julie said, “And now I think we’ll be ready to hit the mall after lunch. Still up for it?” They had agreed to go shopping together today. They needed a few new things for the apartment, and the boys were growing out of their shoes. Together they got the little ones in their car seats, and headed to the mall, listening to a Sesame Street playlist Julie had prepared for the car. She was such a good mom, he thought. On the way, she said, “Maybe this trip would be a good time to work on staying dry. It won’t be as easy for me to change you when we’re out, you know. Can you focus on that, and we’ll see how you do?” He thought that made sense, and was eager for the challenge. He also secretly wanted to show Julie he could stay dry. They had fun at the mall. The boys were very good; Julie had a double stroller for them, though sometimes they liked to get out and walk. They stopped and had a drink in the food court. Not long afterward, they passed a family restroom, and Julie took the opportunity to check the boys’ diapers. Thomas was wet, but only a little. Andrew, however, needed a change. While they were in the restroom, he played with Thomas outside. Julie opened the door and beckoned him over. “How are you doing?” she asked in a low voice. “Still dry?” He considered. Honestly, he had forgotten. His brow wrinkled as he tried to remember if he had wet. Julie sighed a little and pulled him into the little bathroom. They got the stroller inside as well. “Let me just check.” Julie patted his diaper, and a look of concern crossed her face. She quickly undid his belt, unsnapped and unzipped him, and looked at the diaper. He looked down, too, trying to see. She did up his pants again, then stood, a grim look on her face. His hopes fell. “You don’t remember going, do you?” she asked, fixing his belt. Crestfallen, he shook his head, then remembered to say, “No, ma’am. Maybe after we stopped for drinks?” He was silent for a moment, considering. “That’s not good, is it?” While Julie was secretly quite pleased, she did not let her joy show on her face. She shook her head solemnly as they all tumbled out of the little bathroom. “No, it is certainly not good. Looks like you’re going to be in those diapers full-time for the foreseeable future, mister.” Chapter 19 That night Julie’s mother came over for dinner, as she apparently did every Sunday night. He was nervous, as this was the first time he was to meet her. Julie ordered take-out, which was the tradition. She didn’t like to cook on Sunday nights, and he went to pick it up. When he arrived home, Mrs. Davis was already there. She was on the sofa, playing with her grandsons, who were thrilled to see her. Julie had poured some wine for the adults and was setting the table. “So this is the famous doctor I have heard so much about,” her mother said warmly, standing. He walked over, carried dinner in one hand, and said, “It is so nice to finally meet you.” He extended his other to shake hers, but Mrs. Davis held open her arms. “Give me a hug.” She pulled him close for a moment, and he had an uncomfortable thought that maybe she’d be able to feel his diaper. Or hear it. Or even smell it—had he wet this one yet? But she gave no indication that anything was amiss, and her smile was truly warm and welcoming. He could see where Julie had inherited her charms. They got to know one another at the kitchen table over a few glasses of wine. Mrs. Davis had been a nurse, and had inspired Julie to do the same. She was sharp and funny, and he felt comfortable around her immediately. But he did have a little bit of unease as he wondered how much she had heard about him. He heard about Julie’s upbringing. Like all mothers, she had a few practiced stories about her daughter, which seemed designed to embarrass her, but Julie took it in stride. Mrs. Davis helped feed the boys, but attentively listened as he described his family in turn. Afterward, he cleared the table and did the dishes as Julie and her mother played with the boys in the family room. Mrs. Davis noticed and clearly approved of his cooperative spirit, and Julie beamed with pride. They shared a meaningful look as he disappeared into the kitchen. When he had finished that chore, he joined them on the sofa. But Thomas chose that moment to fill his diaper, grunted determinedly in front of the coffee table. “Uh-oh, looks like someone is going to need a change,” Mrs. Davis commented, smiling. When Thomas had finished, she took him by the hand. “I’ll take care of this one,” she said. “Thanks, Mom,” Julie said. When her mother had left the room, Julie said to him, “She loves you. Nice job with the dishes! You passed the test!” He smiled. “Whew! Hope it wasn’t that close.” Julie shook her head. “Of course not. I’ve told her all about you. She was thrilled with you almost before she met you.” That reminded him to ask how many details Julie had shared. But at that moment Mrs. Davis came back into the room, carrying her grandson. “And here we are again, smelling much nicer than before. Nothing like a clean diaper, right?” she asked the room. Julie nodded. “Everybody loves that. Thanks again, Mom.” Her mother brushed aside the comment. “Of course. You work so hard being a mom for this family. I’m happy to take a turn.” Julie stood and looked at him. “Actually, maybe it’s time for us to take a moment as well,” she said. He looked up at her, confused. She cocked an eyebrow expectantly. He blushed. She wanted to change his diaper. “Oh, sure, right,” he said, not having any idea how to cover their obviously intentional exit. “No problem,” Mrs. Davis said, smiling at them. “We’ll be okay for a few minutes. Take all the time you need.” In the bedroom, he lowered his pants and laid down obediently on the bed, but hissed, “Does she know?” Julie unconcernedly pulled off the diaper tapes. “Know what?” She pulled down the diaper, which he saw was quite wet, and ran a wipe over his front. He sighed with exasperation. “About this! About my diapers. Did you tell her?” Julie couldn’t help but notice that now he said “my” diapers. Cute. A good sign. “No, of course not. How would she know?” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know. It just seemed like it would have been obvious to her when you excused us out there. I mean, what else could we be doing?” Julie laughed as she wiped his bottom and found a dry diaper. “I don’t know. What do couples usually do in the bedroom?” she asked with a sparkle in her eye. He said, “Oh, sure, we just ducked into your bedroom to have sex for a minute.” Julie pulled the diaper between his legs and tightly taped it. “What we do behind closed doors is none of my mother’s business.” He stood and she patted him on his padded bottom. “You worry too much.” He pulled up his pants and refastened his belt. He felt better that Mrs. Davis didn’t know she changed his diaper. When they returned to the family room the boys were deeply engaged in playing a superhero story, with Mrs. Davis enjoying the show. She turned to them. “Everybody all set now?” she asked. “Now tell me: where did you go to medical school?” He wondered what she meant by that first question, but didn’t have time to dwell on that, as he was called on to answer the second. They had a good conversation. Mrs. Davis was genuinely interested in him, and seemed pleased with his answers. When the boys were put down to sleep, she excused herself as well. After Mrs. Davis had left, he cleaned up the kitchen. Drying his hands, he returned to the family room and saw Julie sewing. “You really are talented,” he said, hoping to keep the evening positive. He had hopes that tonight would end up happier than last night. Julie smiled, then leaned over and accepted a quick peck on the cheek. “Why, thank you, my love. Since you liked the first onesie, I’m making you a second one, for laundry days. What do you think?” The fabric was mixed blue and pink blocks. In truth, he had mixed feelings about these clothes. They had turned out to be quite comfortable to sleep in, and he liked that she was thinking of him enough to give him things. But he had come to the conclusion that they were more childish than he’d originally realized. There was a strong pattern in their relationship of Julie treating him like one of her young children. Individually these things—the diapers, the spankings, the onesies—seemed to make a little sense at the time, but collectively they were sort of hard to explain away. He realized he hadn’t answered. “Oh, really nice,” he said, thinking there would be time to talk about the child vs. man issue another time, once he’d gathered his thoughts. But he still felt like pushing back a little. “Hey, if you like the way these things look, why don’t you make yourself one? We could be like a whole onesie household?” He was curious how she would answer. She smiled. “Well, I like having a little easier access to what’s underneath, you know?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “And I bet you like having that access, too!” He caught her meaning and felt himself getting a little hard. How did she do that? She was so sexy, and that made it easier putting up with some of this stuff. She continued, “And of course, the snaps would make it harder for me to use the potty. That’s not an issue for you boys, so it just makes sense that if anyone gets to wear a onesie, it’s you. Boys have all the fun,” she said, shrugging. This seemed like the opportunity he was looking for to discuss the potty situation. He didn’t like how things were settling into a habit of him never using the potty—the bathroom, he corrected himself (Julie’s language was infectious!). He sat down next to her. Julie smiled a bit as she heard his diaper crinkle. “Can I ask you something?” he said. Still smiling, Julie laughed, “As long as it’s not about diapers. That’s settled, right?” Caught off guard, he stammered forward, “Well, I understand that I’ve been leaking sometimes, but…” “Wetting,” she corrected. She wrinkled her nose. “Leaking sounds like there is a problem with the diaper.” Not wanting to get bogged down in semantics, he nodded. “Ok, wetting. I understand that I’ve had some ‘wetting’ accidents, and that you want to protect your furniture. But I’ve never had any bowel issues, so I still don’t understand—“ Julie’s smile had vanished. She shook her head a little sadly as she looked at him. “You and your hang-up with pooping. What is it with you?” He paused to consider how to answer. How could she not see the difference? But she went right on, “I really don’t get it. It’s a natural bodily function. I’ve already told you: I don’t care, and changing you doesn’t bother me. I was hoping that once I’d proven that to you, you’d relax a bit. “And I’ve explained how much time it would take to undo your diaper and let you poop in the potty. It’s not about my personal preference: pooping in your diaper is just good time management.” He’d heard this before. But then why couldn’t he change himself? He clearly had a lot more diaper experience now; it couldn’t be that hard. “But—“ “Do NOT let another word out of your mouth if it is about diapers or pooping. I meant it when I said that issue is settled.” He considered quietly. “I can’t hear your manners.” He looked up and saw her eyes, fiery, and saw her lips pressed together. If he thought about it, he could still tell that his bottom was still a little sore from last night. “Yes, ma’am.” She relaxed a bit. “That’s my good boy. Why don’t you brush your teeth and bring me your onesie? It’s getting late.” He turned to obey. Julie was sweet almost all the time, but she didn’t like being questioned. The woman knew what she wanted! He’d have to think about how to approach this issue in the future. He didn’t want to test her now, but he wasn’t willing to give up his bathroom privileges forever. When he had been to Julie’s bathroom to brush, and found his onesie, he found her in the bedroom getting out a clean diaper. He set the onesie on the bed, and taking her cue, pulled off his pants and laid down on the bed. She attended to him efficiently, and though he was looking forward to some special fun during his bedtime diapering, he found himself rediapered and snapped into his onesie before he could protest. He read a little while Julie readied herself for bed. When she came to bed, she seemed a little quiet. He rubbed her neck a little until she turned to him. “How about taking advantage of that ‘easy access’?” he asked, smiling. That put a little smile on her face, and he happily ducked below the sheets. Julie was not hard to pleasure, and he took some delight in his ability to make her happy so quickly. He could feel himself stiffening inside his tight diaper during the process. When he reappeared above the sheets, Julie seemed more relaxed. She leaned over and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “Thanks, baby. I needed that.” With that, she fell back against her pillow. He waited a moment, expectantly. When she didn’t make another move toward him, he frowned and scooted closer to her. But…she was breathing deeply like…she was asleep! He could feel himself under his diaper, hard and ready, but now had nothing to do about that. He lay back on his own pillow, and tried to rub himself through the diaper. It felt nice, but not nice enough. He wondered what Julie would do if she found dried cum inside his diaper. Would she mind? Would she notice? He noticed with disappointment that his onesie kept him from getting a hand down his diaper. He could unsnap it, but that might be loud enough to wake Julie. He tried to reach through the side, but Julie had apparently taped the diaper on quite tightly. And the onesie almost seemed designed to be tight around the sides as well, so he could barely get a finger in. Not enough to help, that was for sure. Briefly he considered getting up and going somewhere to attack this more effectively. But where? Because he wasn’t allowed in her bathroom, there was nowhere that could be completely private. He could sneak into the family room, but that seemed creepy with the kids in the apartment, and what if he woke Julie getting out of bed? What possible excuse could he have for not being in bed? Frustrated, he sighed heavily and tried to think of something else. He couldn’t believe Julie had forgotten his needs. It was a long time before he got sleepy and was able to rest. Julie, who was only pretending to sleep, heard him quiet down. She smiled. He had passed the test, though she had certainly made it difficult to do anything else. Her huffy mood earlier had been a bit of an act, designed to excuse her not being “in the mood”. And she had carefully diapered him tightly to make sure he wasn’t overly tempted. She didn’t think he would be crazy enough to untape his diaper tonight and take matters into his own hands. She had specifically emphasized her feelings about his touching his diaper in the past, and she had even told him not to unsnap his onesie. After having spanked him just last night, she had felt sure he would be good. Maybe he was starting to realize the best feature of his onesie, but if he hadn’t yet, he’d certainly notice soon enough. They were designed to cover his diaper, sure, and they made him look adorably infantile, which she enjoyed. But their true virtue was keeping his big boy hands away from himself. She knew he’d surely spent a lot of time pleasuring himself in the past, and she wanted that to change. She smiled as she thought about how he’d respond to her sexual control. They were together at work and at home, and there wasn’t anywhere he could go to be alone. Now that he was in a diaper all the time, which he was not to touch, the onesie might be overkill. But, she smiled to herself, it was still a nice touch. She didn’t want him afraid of her, exactly, but a healthy dose of respect for her discipline was necessary. He needed to know what she felt strongly about, and she was sure she hadn’t left any doubt. They hadn’t talked specifically about masturbation, so she was curious what he would do when given a tiny opportunity. He was a guy in his sexual prime, and so she was sure he was tempted. But he was also submissive, whether he knew it or not. She became surer as each day passed. As confident and decisive as he was in the office, he was deferential and meek at home. And it wasn’t that he was that frightened of her. She was seeing signs—little expressions, big erections—that told her that he was growing to like his position in the relationship. After all, he knew she called the shots, that he would be diapered 24/7 in her house, that she would spank him when she wanted, and yet he still jumped at the chance of moving in with her. Now, as she considered, it was she who felt like pleasuring herself to a second orgasm before she drifted off to sleep. But she could control herself without padding and tape. She would have plenty of opportunities in the future. Chapter 20 The next morning was much more rushed, as he and Julie had work. It generally followed the same pattern as the previous morning, though. He awoke and found Julie already up. He peed and waddled out to the kitchen in just his onesie. They all ate a quick breakfast, then Julie parked the boys in the family room with their toys and dashed to the bathroom. He cleaned up the kitchen and found it necessary to move his bowels before he was done. He finished up and carefully walked into the bedroom to await Julie’s help. He picked out some clothes while he was waiting. She opened the bathroom door, and called, “Ready to be changed?” He realized Julie was specifically asking if he had pooped yet, and he blushed a little. But he called back in the affirmative, and she came out in her underwear and bra, hair wrapped in a towel. She looked great, and he could tell that his horniness was cranked up by not having come the night before. However, the romance of the moment was tempered by the task at hand. She changed his messy, wet diaper, and sent him off to the shower with a pat on the bottom. She finished her makeup and dressed while he showered and shaved. As Julie finished powdering and diapering him, they could hear Julie’s mom arriving to take care of the boys. Julie hurriedly brushed the powder off her hands and set to gathering her work clothes. He finished dressing and emerged from the bedroom. Mrs. Davis was in the boys’ bedroom, apparently changing them into dry diapers. Julie yelled into him from the kitchen, “Sweetie, can you grab three of your diapers for my work bag, please? I’m out.” He turned to obey, then froze. Two things immediately occurred to him. First, there was no way that Mrs. Davis didn’t hear that. Second, that he needed to answer her, and by doing so, he would confirm their relationship status and agree that he used diapers. He could stay silent, but then he risked angering Julie. He wondered for a split-second whether she would spank him in front of her mother. But if she hadn’t kept his diapers a secret, why would she care about the spankings? Crap. “Yes, ma’am!” he yelled back, trying to sound playful but not mocking. He hoped making his response sound like a game to Mrs. Davis would cover some of the embarrassment he felt calling her “ma’am” around others. But for God’s sake, how could he pass off her reference to his diapers?! He felt his cheeks burn. Julie had said she hadn’t told her mom about his diapers. But was this just a slip? Or did Mrs. Davis already know? She seemed to know something the other night… But there was no time to wonder. Julie’s urgent voice broke through his thoughts. “Baby, let’s go. We’re going to be late!” He picked out three of his diapers and headed out to the kitchen. He held them out to Julie, who was tucking his sippy cup into her bag. He realized, staring at the bright blue and pink patterns, that Julie had begun bringing a diaper bag to work. When had that happened? “Did you change bags?” he asked, trying to sound casual. She smiled grimly. “Yeah, do you think it’s too obvious? Sorry, but with all of your…supplies, I needed something bigger. It is the perfect size! I’m sure no one will notice.” He wasn’t at all sure. But before he could say anything, Mrs. Davis and the boys entered the kitchen. Julie was tucking the diapers into the main compartment of the diaper bag as her mother, apparently referring to the bag, commented, “You were right, Julie. Perfect size.” Julie quickly cleared her throat. “Okay, guys, have a great day and be good for Grandma. I’ll be home–we’ll be home,” she corrected herself, smiling at him, “before supper.” “Okay, Mommy!” “Bye!” “Bye,” he called weakly. He grabbed his own bag, trying not to look Mrs. Davis in the eye. He felt like she was staring at him, though. Blushing, he picked up his coffee and fled outside. In the car, angry overtook his embarrassment. “What was that?? You told me your mom didn’t know!” In the passenger seat next to him, Julie sighed. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “She didn’t, but somehow she figured it out when you were over for dinner. She asked me about it the next day, so I told her you had some bladder issues.” He reddened further. “So, she thinks I’m incontinent?” “Yes, I thought that was the most reasonable explanation. She’s older. It made sense to her.” She reached over to pat his thigh. “Look, it was bound to happen at some point. We tell each other everything. She’s fine with it, of course. I told her it is a medical thing.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “But you yelled it out this morning so she could hear.” His eyes felt full. Julie was looking out the window as they pulled up to a light that had turned red. “Well, look, there’s no point dancing around it, is there? She’s at the apartment a lot. It’s a fact of life, and she’s part of the family. But I should have told you. I’m sorry about that.” He swallowed, blinking back the tears as the light changed. He’d gotten over some of his embarrassment of the diapers around Julie, but around her mother, too? Julie went on. “I mean, she’s going to notice when we disappear to change you. She’ll see your diapers if she goes into our room. And I don’t see what the point of pretending is. Actually,” she said. “I could imagine she might be helpful in a pinch.” His eyes jerked toward her involuntarily at this. “What? What do you mean, ‘helpful’?” he said, alarmed. She looked over at him, and, seeing his concern, tried to soothe him. “I don’t mean I’ll ask her to change you routinely, unless we can’t avoid it. It’s just nice to have the option of some help. You know, like if I’m at an appointment, or sick or something.” Even as he pulled into the office parking lot, he could feel himself start to sweat. This was not something he’d imagined ever discussing. Julie was already getting out of the car. “We can talk about it later, Sweetie. We’re a bit late now.” He sat for a minute, watching her leave the car. He snapped out of it as he saw a patient arriving and approaching the office as well. He had to move now. But, Jesus, Julie’s mom? He took a breath and shifted to focus on the day. Despite this distraction, the day went well. Once he clicked into work mode, he felt extra energetic today, and used that energy to make sure her day went well. He definitely didn’t want her to be exhausted by the end of the day. He had an investment in making her happy. His quality of life, in general, just like every other man in a relationship, depended on his partner being pleased with him. He wanted to make sure she wasn’t too tired that evening for sex. Two nights in a row would be a disaster! In fact, his mind was clearly preoccupied with her. His penis sprang to life each time she changed him during the day, and Julie noticed. She wondered a little about it, but mostly, it was amusing to her. They finished and headed home a little early for Monday. It was amazing how efficient they were when they were united in their work. As they arrived home, Mrs. Davis was just packing up. “How were the little monsters?” Julie called. The boys gave a yell and came running to hug their mommy. Mrs. Davis smiled tiredly. “Oh, they aren’t monsters. They are the best little grandsons in the world.” Julie raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t seen them at bedtime recently. Your grandsons can resemble wild animals at times.” But Mrs. Davis just shook her head. “Not my boys. I love taking care of them.” She picked up her purse and headed for the door. She smiled at him on her way. “And speaking of boys, it’s nice to see a big boy around the house these days.” Julie smiled fondly at him as well. “I’ll say. Never thought I’d want MORE boys around here, but he is definitely a good addition to the crew. Thanks again, Mom.” “Any time, my girl. Have a good night!” As the door closed behind her, his thoughts were drawn back to their conversation this morning. Julie wouldn’t make him let Mrs. Davis change him, would she? He couldn’t forget to discuss that sometime. While Julie made supper, he played with the boys. They liked running over and tackling him, and he loved their laughs. In bed that night, Julie untaped his diaper and started stroking him gently. He fought his excitement, which built much more rapidly than he had expected. Worried that he would come before they’d even completed the foreplay, he extricated himself from her ministrations to pleasure her. Afterward, to his relief, Julie did not fall asleep. As he returned up to lie next to her, she purred, “I bet you’re ready to go!” She reached down and found this to be true. Their lovemaking was quick, but passionate, and his orgasm was amazing. Julie noticed. Afterward, as she re-diapered him for the night, she said, smiling, “I’ve never heard you so loud. And long—I think yours was almost twice as long as mine.” He was still panting a little, and had to chuckle. “I guess you’re right. I…” he paused as he thought about what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to sound annoyed at her for falling asleep last night, but being frustrated had probably played into why things were so desperate tonight. “I think with the way things ended up last night might have had something to do with that. I was really horny all day.” She laughed and fell back into bed. “Oh, I noticed. Every time I had your diaper off, it felt like you were propositioning me.” She was quiet for a moment. Not a bad time to talk more about it. “Did you like feeling that way?” He let out a grunt. “Hardly. Are you kidding? I’m a guy. I think most of us like coming as often as we can.” Julie propped herself up on her elbow. “Yeah, but tonight seemed way better for you. That’s not worth sometimes waiting a little to have it build up?” He looked at her. She did not look sleepy. She seemed very interested in this discussion. He probably should have taken that as a warning, but he was feeling sleepy post-sex. “Nah—I mean, no, ma’am. I’ll take quantity over quality any day.” He closed his eyes. “Hmm. I’m not convinced,” Julie said thoughtfully. She poked him in the side with her finger to keep him awake. His eyes opened. “I noticed that you were really, really helpful today with the housework and the boys. Almost like you thought it could help your chances tonight.” He laughed again. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He looked up at her. “Did it?” She smiled. “You bet. If I’m not so tired, you definitely have a better chance to get lucky. So keep it up, mister helpful.” He nodded. “No problem. I certainly don’t mind.” His eyes closed again. This time Julie did not poke him awake. “Interesting…” she murmured, as she watched him breathing quietly. The next night, Andrew threw up after supper. Between caring for him and worrying about what could be wrong and if his brother would also get sick, Julie was preoccupied. So he wasn’t surprised when it wasn’t a sex night. He didn’t complain. He understood that would be insensitive. Plus, after their talk the night before, he knew Julie understood what he wanted. She would have accommodated him if she could, and he thought she probably would the next night. So he went to sleep unsatisfied, but not really frustrated. Andrew actually seemed fine the next day, though Julie told her mom about the incident and called her several times during the day over the phone to check on him. But he still seemed like himself by the time they got home that evening, and no one else got sick, so Julie relaxed a little. As she was distracted, he took over some of the chores around the house. He also gave her a little massage once they were in bed, hoping she was feeling good enough to be intimate before they fell asleep. She was. She turned over as he was rubbing her shoulders, and he found himself sitting on her with his hands over her breasts. This was a welcome development, and she undressed him. He again exploded into her fairly quickly but vigorously, and Julie noted again how much more attentive he’d been during the day and evening. This was not something she could ignore. As luck would have it, Julie got her period after supper the next night. He didn’t know until after he had helped all day and massaged her that evening. Julie sighed, and patted his chest. “Sorry, baby. We’ve got to take a little vacation for a few days. I’m out of commission.” He stared at her for a moment, not understanding. She stared back. “My period, sweetie. No sex. You have to keep it in your pants,” she said helpfully. Then she glanced down at his crotch. “Well, in your diaper.” He was startled. He hadn’t had a close relationship that could be disrupted by such things. “Oh, of course,” he said. He didn’t want to appear selfish. “So…you…do you feel okay and everything?” She laughed. “Of course. It’s just a little gross to think about sex.” She put her hand to his cheek. “Are you going to be okay with that?” He nodded bravely. “Oh, sure,” before he followed it up with, “So…how long do your periods last?” She shrugged. “Four or five days. It varies.” She watched his face carefully to see what he thought of that. He repeated her words, letting them sink in. “Four or five days…um, sure,” he said uncertainly. Since he was a young teenager, he had never gone without orgasm for that long. He honestly wasn’t sure if he could. And she had him locked away, so to speak. So he was already wondering what he’d need to do. “Mm-hm,” she said, cuddling closer. “But I was thinking,” she said, stroking his chest. He hardened under his diaper. Maybe she was going to help him get some relief! He loved Julie. Of course she wouldn’t make him wait that long. “That as nice as you are after you haven’t had sex for just one day, it might be interesting to see just how nice you are while you wait for me. I’m kind of excited to find out.” “Wait for you,” he murmured. She couldn’t be serious. That sounded terrible. But how could he say that without sounding like a jerk? Of course she wouldn’t have sex either. But he wasn’t sure it felt the same to women as it did to men. “Right,” she said, nodding. “Are you man enough to find out?” Not that you have any choice, she thought to herself. But she wanted him to be on board with this experiment. “Um,” he said, trying to think quickly. “It just seems like a long time.” That didn’t sound nice, did it? He cleared his throat and tried to look at her, though her head was on his shoulder and this was hard. “I mean, a man has impulses. It can be hard—I mean, difficult—to ignore those. I want to be honest with you. I don’t know if I can do that.” “Oh,” she purred. “I’m sure you can. And if you’re good, I can help in certain ways.” Her finger traced his nipples, tickling him. THAT sounded good. Though he wondered what exactly she meant, he wasn’t going to turn that down. “Then you’ve got a deal!” She nodded, smiling. She led her finger down his chest to his belly button. “I know you can be a good boy. You’ll make me so happy,” she whispered. His breathing quickened as he felt her finger drop further. It now ran along the edge of his diaper, playing with the little ruffle above the tapes. And then her voice, “Be a good boy. Sleep well.” And then the finger disappeared, and he felt Julie turn over in bed. “See you in the morning.” By now he could feel his penis throbbing under his diaper. She’d done it to him again. This time he was pretty sure it was intentional. She was good at that! But she seemed to be promising that tomorrow might be different. He groaned and rolled toward her, spooning her to make sure she felt his hardness against her. He couldn’t see her, but she was grinning widely as she went to sleep. This might be her best idea yet. Chapter 21 He worked hard making her happy all day. It helped that he seemed to have endless energy. It surprised him a bit, as he hadn’t thought he’d slept that well after her blatant bedtime teasing. But he felt like he wanted to go out of his way to make Julie happy, and her smiles through the day seemed to confirm that he was doing a good job. It was tough not asking for her to touch him more than usual as she changed his diaper through the day. But each time, after cleaning and powdering him, she would pat his penis fondly, and say to him, “You put that away for now. Maybe later tonight.” After their work was done, Julie came up behind him and cupped his diaper in the front. “Hmm,” she observed grimly. “You are very wet, aren’t you?” He looked down. He honestly hadn’t noticed it was any different than most days. “I guess. Did you want to change it?” Julie powered down her computer and shook her head. “Sadly, no. We’re out of diapers. You’ll have to wait until you get home. Think you can wait?” He collected his things. “I guess so. I mean, I don’t have much choice, right?” She put her coat on and patted his cheek fondly. “No, silly, I mean, does your bladder feel full? I don’t know if that diaper will survive another flooding.” He paused. “Oh. Well, I mean, I could go, but I’m sure I can hold it. It’s a short trip.” He donned his coat and picked up his laptop bag. She regarded him for a moment, pondering. “Yes, but I think we should take an extra precaution, just in case.” She found a blue disposable waterproof pad and brought it along to the car, handing it to him when they got there. “Put this on your seat, please.” He stared at it. “Seriously? I’m sure I don’t need that,” he said dismissively. “Maybe,” she admitted, climbing in. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d put it down anyway.” He shook his head. Julie had a hard time not mothering him. But it wasn’t worth fighting about. Mrs. Davis and the boys were nowhere to be seen, but they could hear Andrew’s little voice explaining something earnestly from the bedroom area. As he and Julie put their things away, The boys and Mrs. Davis, chattering, entered the kitchen. “Hi, guys, we’re all dry and clean,” she said, smiling. Julie smiled back, then glanced at him. “Must be nice. We will be soon, I’m sure.” Then she seemed to notice his surprised expression. Did Julie just tell her mom that his diaper was wet?? To his horror, Mrs. Davis reached over and patted his diapered rear end, feeling the weight of his wet padding. “Wow. Well, I’m still in changing mode if you need a hand,” she said to Julie. He froze. Mrs. Davis wasn’t speaking to him, wasn’t looking at him. Only at Julie. It was…like he was a toddler! Julie paused and appeared to be considering. To his relief, however, she shook her head. “No, Mom, that’s okay.” She handed her mother her purse and coat. “I appreciate the offer, you’ve had a full day. I can take care of it. I’m sure you’re ready to get home.” Her mother nodded. “Of course. Just wanted to make sure you knew I don’t mind.” Julie smiled. “I know, and I’m grateful for the offer. But we’re not quite ready for that yet. Maybe down the road.” “Oh, of course. But it would not be any trouble. I’ve been changing diapers for a long time.” “Yes, you are a pro. Thanks again, Mom. Have a wonderful night.” He breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind Mrs. Davis. Julie had saved him, though she hadn’t exactly shut down the idea completely. “Julie, I’m REALLY not comfortable with your mom, you know…” he told her at supper. She was cutting little chunks of chicken for the boys, and nodded. “I know. Don’t worry. I told you–only if we have to.” He took a breath. “But–look, I know you like to be the one to change me.” Julie looked up with a bit of a warning expression, as if she didn’t want to talk about that topic. “And–and–I get that you are better at it than I would be. Although, well, we’ve never tried, so how would we know?” he said quickly, then rushed on. This wasn’t his main point and he didn’t want to get bogged down. “But that’s fine. I obviously love it when you change me and I know you’re in charge of that.” He took another breath. Andrew was feeding himself the chicken chunks. Thomas had asked to be excused and was playing with a truck next to the table. “But in an emergency, it seems like I could handle my own diapers, right? Why would you ever want your mother to help? Because I don’t want her to help!” Julie seemed a little affronted. “What’s wrong with my mother? Did something happen between you two?” He sighed. “No, of course not. It’s just that it would be so embarrassing to have someone else, you know, see me and touch me that way.” He couldn’t believe he had to explain this. Andrew was done, and Julie got up to wash his face. He’d managed to get mashed potatoes on both cheeks and his chin. “I know, but I’m sure she’d be better at it than you would. If she is here, and she could do it better, why wouldn’t we have her do it?” She efficiently wiped the food off Andrew’s face, which he tolerated. Then she helped him down from his booster seat. He ran into the living room, and Thomas took the truck and followed. “I feel like this goes back to you being unnecessarily embarrassed about basic bodily functions.” He sputtered, “But–listen, I’m an adult, and–” Julie interrupted, her voice hardening perceptibly. “…Who wears diapers and needs some help with them. My mother changed my diapers when I needed it. She can change yours, too.” As his cheeks reddened, imagining the humiliation, Julie softened and, standing above him, touched his cheek. “Listen, I’ve already told you that I won’t ask her to change you unless it is really necessary. But if it does, you will agree and you won’t give her any trouble.” She brought his chin up so they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Tell me you understand me.” He swallowed hard, trying to think of an argument that would sway her. But he could see she had made up her mind, and he no longer had that chance. “Sweetie, do you trust me?” He sighed. “Yes, ma’am.” “Then tell me you accept the fact that there could come a time when my mom could have to change your diaper.” He paused. But what could he say? He was also, in the back of his mind, thinking that he wanted her in a good mood for later. Julie had suggested they could have some play time later, and although he knew he wouldn’t come, he was curious what she had up her sleeve. “Yes, ma’am, okay.” Julie smiled. “That’s my good boy. Time to clean up dinner, if you wouldn’t mind.” She headed into the living room to supervise her sons. He cleared the table thoughtfully, coming to terms with the apparent diaper-changing hierarchy in the home. Julie really felt like he shouldn’t ever change his own diaper. He didn’t understand why, and wasn’t even allowed to help make the decision. It left him feeling powerless and small. But he had learned to trust Julie, and he wondered whether he could trust her enough here, too. At bedtime tonight she changed him for the last time up near the head of the bed, which was unusual. She patted his side of the bed, and he laid down where she indicated. She changed and cleaned him, then asked, “Up for a little fun?” She was being funny, he realized. He was hard as a nail the moment she untaped the diaper. “Yes, ma’am!” he cheerfully replied. “I love your manners, mister,” she cooed as she opened the closet and pulled out a duffle bag he had not ever noticed before. “They will get you far in this life. Or at least in this bed.” She pulled out some scarves. His brow wrinkled. Scarves? He was woefully uninformed, Julie saw, and it made her smile at him. “Trust me?” she said. “…Yes?” he said back, looking at the scarves with confusion. Julie tied his hands to her headboard. He smiled once he saw what she was doing. This could be very fun, he thought. She did not tie his feet, and as soon as his hands were immobilized, she unsnapped his onesie and undiapered him. “Time for some fun, baby,” she said, as she positioned herself down near his waist. He was fully erect, his penis bobbing in the air expectantly. Julie addressed it next. “Sorry I’ve been so distant, my little friend.” Her fingers lightly touched it and he flinched, sending it away from them. This amused her, so she repeated the game several times. His breathing was already becoming heavy, she noted with amusement. She would have to be very careful. She tickled his balls, and the bare skin around his member. He was extremely sensitive, making her wonder what several days of abstaining would do to him. She smiled. This was going to be a fun week. When his breathing had evened, she extended her tongue and tickled him all over again. When he seemed to be getting close, she backed off again. Eventually, she was able to use her full hand, pushing him closer and closer to the edge, then slowing down. He was sweating, and his arms started to pull hard on the scarves. She was driving him crazy. No one had ever treated him like this before. It was so hot. He had never imagined himself at the mercy of a woman who was in control and yet who delayed his orgasm so expertly. How did Julie do it? Of course, Julie didn’t know his body that well at this point, so she couldn’t be sure. She erred on the side of caution, backing down sooner than she otherwise might, knowing she would have lots of chances to refine her technique in the future. After twenty-five minutes of playing with him, she took him in her mouth and delicately teased him orally, carefully watching his face, listening to his breathing, and feeling his muscle tone. Eventually she came up to his face. “Enjoying yourself?” she purred. Nearly exhausted, he said, “More than you can imagine.” She laughed. “I’m so happy. Remember you said that in about two minutes.” She jumped up and left the room. He was baffled. Where had she gone? He felt a little silly tied up all by himself. But she returned a moment later carrying a towel. She approached him and laid the towel over him. He smiled. What was next?! The towel seemed like a reasonable precaution if she didn’t want mess all over her bed. He thought that the night’s activities might be ending soon. And he was right, though not in the way he’d hoped. Out came a bag of frozen peas, which went on top of the towel. He looked up at her, again questioning her. She explained, “I’ll never get you back in that diaper without some help. But I thought the peas were cruel without a towel.” She left the room again, entering her bathroom. The toilet flushed and then she returned. Julie checked under the towel. He had softened considerably. She grabbed a diaper and expertly tucked him away for the night, returning the vegetables to the freezer and tossing the towel in the laundry. When she joined him in bed, she reached for the scarves. His face was full of confusion. “But…” She looked at him. He couldn’t finish his sentence. He was heartbroken, but didn’t want to complain. Maybe there was still a chance he could come? It didn’t look good, but… Julie said, “Oh, sweetie, you were never going to come tonight. It’s too soon. But I wanted you to have some fun. And you did, right?” She tucked the scarves into the duffel bag and took it to the closet. He was speechless. “Kind of…” he trailed off. When she turned to face him, her eyebrows raised, he stammered, “Well, yes. It was amazing. I just thought…” She closed the closet door and came back and sat next to him on the bed. “Baby, we’re going to try something this week. You are a wonderful man, but I’ve noticed that, like most men, you are limited by your hormones.” He stared down at her hands. A few moments ago, those hands were doing wonderfully sensuous things to him. He just wanted to get back to that moment! She reached up to his chin, pulling his eyes up to meet hers. He was preoccupied but she wanted him following along with her now. “It turns out,” she explained, “that when you don’t have sex, you become even more considerate than usual. And helpful. Were you aware of that?” Seriously? He was surprised to hear this. “I try to be…that way…all the time. I didn’t realize you were unhappy—“ She cut him off, placing her finger on his lips. “Shhh. No, no, I didn’t mean you weren’t a good partner every day. You are. But something interesting happens when you haven’t had sex. You seem much more connected to me emotionally. I wasn’t sure at first if I was imagining it, but it is clearly true. And if you weren’t even aware of it, then that tells me that this…phenomenon… is not just something you are trying to do when you’re desperate.” She sat back. “Actually, when I look back to other relationships, it might have been true then as well. So maybe it’s all men.” She shook her head a little. “Honestly, I wish I’d noticed this earlier in life. Could’ve been verrrrrry helpful.” Julie turned back to him. “But the point is, I need you to explore this with me.” He frowned. “What do you mean? Explore what? It sort of sounds like you don’t want to have sex with me.” She shook her head and laughed. “No, that’s not right. I love having sex with you. But there might be a balance that would be good for us. And I’d like to see what that looks like.” “A balance? Between what?” She pursed her lips and stared at him hard. “Between you coming every night and you never coming at all. If you come every day, you are a little happy really often, but we might not get as much out of our relationship as we could. I would have to work harder around here, and might resent you not contributing as much.” He looked concerned, then smiled a little. “Well, part of that sounded pretty good…what if I just tried harder around the apartment?” Julie patted him on the cheek, giving him a wry smile. “I bet that sounds good to you. But not as good as it could be. If you come only some of the time, your pleasure will be greater when you do come—right?—and in the meantime life will be better for me. And when you don’t come, maybe we can have fun like we did tonight.” He sat there, pondering her words. She gave him a moment to think about this. “Now, I care for you a lot, and I want you to enjoy sex as much as I do. But I also want what’s best for us together, and I think we owe it to ourselves to see if that could work. So this week, while I’m out of action, you’re going to be out of action as well.” He looked at her, alarmed. “Like, all week? I don’t–” Julie laughed, then mocked him playfully. “Yes, all week. I mean, I have to wait, right? Are you telling me you aren’t as tough as a girl?” He swallowed. “Well, I’ve never—I mean, I think it’s harder for me than for you. I’m not used to that at all.” She nodded. “Oh, I’m sure,” she said, with what might have been mock seriousness. “But I’ll make it fun for you. I mean, since it’s better for me if you wait, I’m willing to help you hold out.” “Oh, man. I don’t know if that helped me wait or not. I can’t think about anything but you right now.” Julie giggled and snuggled next to him. “Perfect. I want you thinking of me. And I don’t want you neglected, just a little…frustrated.” He smiled slightly, but…this seemed like asking a lot. “Wouldn’t just be easier—I mean, for you—if I…took matters into my own hands this week, and we could try skipping a day or two next week?” Julie sat straight up. “No, no. NO. Easier for YOU maybe, but not for me. It turns out that I love seeing you when you are a little desperate, and I do NOT want you playing with your little thing.” She again made him look her in the eyes. “Please tell me you understand. No jerking off. This is very important to me.” He looked down. It was very clear what Julie wanted. And he had learned that what she wanted, she always got. If there were more nights like this, it could be fun. He might even get to see what else was in that duffel bag. He looked into her eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.” She beamed. “That’s my good boy. You’ll see that good things come to those who wait,” she said suggestively, and patted the front of his diaper. She felt him twitch inside, and she liked it. “Now let’s get some sleep.” Chapter 22 That week was difficult. From that night onward, he couldn’t think of anything except Julie. Having sex with Julie, have Julie play with him some more, doing all sorts of things to her. But he was taped up tightly inside of his diaper, and he couldn’t touch himself. He wasn’t really ever out of her presence for more than a few moments. She seemed to be around him almost all the time. Even when he showered, she was in the bathroom just on the other side of the frosted glass of the shower. He couldn’t jerk off if he wanted to. And he wanted to. Kind of. But it was also undeniably fun to go through the week with Julie teasing and taunting him. During the day she would pat his diaper and make double entendres that her sons could not possibly catch. And at bedtime, the scarves came out. She didn’t use other toys, but she did use some kind of slippery liquid, and drive him nearly crazy. She would push him to the brink, then back off, then repeat. He would be sweating within minutes, but could not do anything about it. He had no idea how she knew how to get him that close. He got so crazy that he tried to thrust into her hand. She would laugh and move her hand just out of the way. She seemed heartless, except that it obviously took a lot of time and effort for her. And it wasn’t like she was getting any relief either. He tried to remember that. Every day, he had difficulty thinking of anything other than Julie and her torture sessions. He hated them, but wanted them at the same time. He had nothing he could do with his energy. It was such a weird feeling to be so wound up without the ability to do anything about it. Every comment, every look was charged with sexual tension. Julie could see it in his eyes, and was smiling at him constantly, which, in turn, drove him even crazier. He tried to keep himself busy. When he could, he would clean their apartment. When she would let him, he would rub her feet or shoulders. Her touch became electric to him, somehow, and this was a form of magic he could not understand. Was it really hormonal? Maybe she knew things about the human body that he, as a doctor, did not. Regardless, he longed to have her near, maybe more than usual. He was conflicted about whether he thought this experiment was something he wanted to continue. At times he felt like he was flying, but he longed almost constantly to come. Or for her to touch him. Both? He wasn’t even sure anymore—his feelings and wants and needs were muddled together into a complex knot of energy. On Saturday night, she changed his diaper, then tied him to the bed as before. She untaped and pulled down his diaper. Then she lightly stroked him until he was hard and starting to breathe faster. But then she disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the shower start. Seriously? NOW she showered, while he couldn’t move? He passed the time thinking of how good things were going to be once her period was finished. He imagined taking her over the bed, or in the kitchen, or on the sofa. Not that any of that would likely happen, as Julie had definite preferences and usually liked to be in control. But he could still imagine what it would be like to be the one who decided when and how they had sex. But when she was in control, that was incredibly sexy too, wasn’t it? He pictured her smile when she signaled it was time to fool around. He felt her hands on his diaper. Now, the simple act of untaping his diaper made him hard. He had never been on the bottom during sex before he met Julie, and since then he had never been on top. That was odd, he supposed, but he had grown to love looking up at her, her face lost in pleasure, her breasts dangling freely. The way she ground her pelvis against his, used him for her pleasure. That was so hot. If only he could touch himself right now! Suddenly the door to her bathroom opened, and Julie emerged, wearing lingerie he had not seen before. A soft pink babydoll nightie hung from her slim body, and her face showed that she knew the effect it would have on him. She glanced down at his penis, still hard, and saw it twitch hungrily. She smiled, retrieved something from the duffel bag and sat next to him on the bed. He strained at the scarves, trying to touch her with any part of his body. Suddenly she produced a blindfold and fastened it around his eyes, and all light disappeared. He immediately became aware of how she smelled, clean with soap, and a familiar, reassuring scent that made him feel close to her. He realized a moment later that he was smelling baby powder, which smelled a little different on her. He didn’t stop to think that by now, after so many weeks of use while she changed him, that it was a smell that excited him. She stroked his cheek, then ran her fingertips along his ears, tickling him deliberately. Tied and blind, he was forced to wait to see what was next. His skin felt electric, as every part of him wanted her touch. She drew her fingers down his neck, then trailed them across his chest to his nipples, which she was happy to see were hard. His sharp intake of air told her they were also sensitive. The week of chastity had apparently charged his body with an insane amount of energy. This was better than she had hoped for. Whether or not he wanted to repeat this experiment, she thought, didn’t really matter. She would now be controlling his orgasm frequency. But she thought she could probably convince him it was a good idea over the next few minutes. She pinched his nipples gently, eliciting gasps. She leaned down and touched one with her tongue. His body became rigid. She played it back and forth and he didn’t move a muscle. She nibbled it a little and she felt him squirm, then buck a bit as she started to suck. He had no idea his nipples could feel like that. It was mostly like tickling, and they were so sensitive. He couldn’t move out of the way, and had to wait for her to tire of it. Finally she relented, leaving him panting. His erection had softened, but stiffened again as he felt her hands play down his abdomen. His skin tightened and relaxed under her touch. As her soft fingers approached his waist, his body became more and more tense. Without realizing it, his breathing had quickened. She noticed, however. She also noticed the clear liquid forming at the tip of his hard penis. She smiled. Bending over, so her mouth was next to his ear, she whispered, “Why are you so sensitive, my love? I’ve never seen you like this.” Her fingers danced around his lower abdomen. Nearly panting now, he croaked, “It’s been so long.” He was waiting for her hand to move closer to his throbbing penis. But instead it stroked upward again, right to his belly button. He gasped. “Oh, please, Julie!” She laughed. “Oh, begging? Wow. I have got you worked up. This is special.” As a reward, she moved her hand closer to him, brushing her fingers over the tip of his penis. He nearly choked. She took it in her hand, shifting it upward, and gave him several soft pets on the underside. And it was too much. Too much time, too much anticipation, too much teasing over the week. She watched as ejaculate shot up into the air and back down again onto his stomach, surprised more than anything that so little direct contact could set this off. She wasn’t even touching him at this point. He was moaning and bucking his hips involuntarily into the air. As his orgasm passed, he whimpered quietly. Julie watched, fascinated, then started laughing once she realized what had happened. She had heard of ruined orgasms, but hadn’t ever seen one. She certainly hadn’t ever caused one. What did she hear about them? That they didn’t feel as good, but that they also didn’t cause a refractory period. It was sort of like a practice orgasm, right? She would find out. She was hungry tonight and didn’t want to be done! “I’m so sorry,” he gasped, nearly in tears. “I couldn’t control it! I…I…” “Shh, baby, you’re okay,” she soothed, using a tissue to wipe up what she could off his belly and nearby sheets. He’d be doing some laundry tomorrow, apparently. “We’re not stopping there. I think you’ve got more in you.” His breathing slowed. She got down close to his waist and breathed on his slightly softened manhood. She licked it a bit. She tickled it. It didn’t take long to stand right back up, gently bobbing with his heart beat. She smiled and climbed onto his chest, facing his head, and scooted closer to his blindfolded face. Time for her to reap the first carnal profits from the week’s efforts. He had been panicked when he’d come just now. He knew he was done for a while, and couldn’t believe the week had ended with such an embarrassing display. It was a different kind of accident than he usually had, and, like his wet accidents, had been watched by Julie. He was relieved when she was able to conjure another erection from him so quickly. Maybe that was because he’d been so deprived all week? He had no frame of reference to understand the week’s events. But he was humiliated by his premature discharge, and when Julie presented herself to his mouth, he was eager to prove himself to her. She could tell. And she was ready. He licked his way to 3 consecutive orgasms in short order. Between them, Julie reached a hand back to keep him primed, but it wasn’t difficult. Neither of them had ever been so excited and in sync. Julie decided it was time for the grand finale, and lowered herself down onto him teasingly. This second time, he was able to last a satisfyingly long time, and they both came together, sweaty and exhausted. Later, once he had been untied and rediapered, they snuggled together in bed. “Well?” Julie asked him. “…How was that?” He exhaled heavily. “Whew. It’s never been like that.” She smiled. “I know. Here’s a hint for the future: don’t ever doubt me.” He laughed. “I promise. I’ve learned that.” After a moment he said, “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You seem to get your way most of the time, don’t you?” Julie chuckled. “Well, I would hope so.” She traced circles on his chest. “Now that it is over, what do you think about the results of the experiment?” He thought a bit. “Hmm. Well, this week was tough, but…good in a way. I felt frustrated, but kind of alive too.” He grunted and snorted. “Ah, it’s hard to explain.” She turned her head a little and looked at his profile in the darkness. “You were amazing this week. I want that man all the time. That is my dream!” He considered. “I can try. Might be kind of hard to sustain that.” She snorted. “Don’t worry, honey. I think I can help a little.” Intrigued, he waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t immediately, he had to ask, “What’s that supposed to mean? How can you help? Wait—” But she was already propping herself up on her elbow to answer him, one hand now playing with his hair. “It seems like you thrive on fewer orgasms, babe. There will be a little rationing program from here on out.” Now he sat up sharply. “Now, wait. This was a fun game this week, but—” She looked at him in the murky moonlight shining in through their window. “But, what? This was the best sex ever. And it followed a week of relationship bliss for me. Sorry, not giving that up.” She laid back down. “But—” “That would be a really good place for you to leave this discussion,” Julie advised him. “I’ve had a lovely night, and I don’t want to ruin it with an argument.” She turned over. “You think about it tonight. If you come up with any good arguments why you should deprive me of such a loving partner and productive roommate, let me know tomorrow. For now, sleep! Love you.” She closed her eyes, and he was left to consider her words. The next day around the apartment, he was still considering. He was torn. He had felt truly elated toward the end of the week, and last night had been spectacular. But he was still a young man. Sex was his stress relief and had always been his decision. This relationship had changed so much for him—was he ready to give up control of his sex life as well? But there was only so far that masturbation could take him. He’d been dealing with the stress of a single man’s life. It was different now. He had someone. Someone who loved him and cared for him in ways he still couldn’t wrap his mind around. He felt nurtured and complete. He hadn’t known he’d been missing that. He loved it. He’d always assumed he’d have to make some compromises in a relationship. But he’d thought that frequent sex had been part of the perks of the deal. Did it make sense, as Julie had said, to sacrifice quantity for quality? He considered. Any orgasm was pretty fantastic, after all. But he’d never had a night like last night…. Today he felt different. He felt irritable. That high was gone. Because he’d had sex last night? He didn’t know. Was it worth testing out again? Maybe just with Julie’s next period. He was wiping the counter after lunch, deep in thought, when he became aware of Julie’s voice. But he’d missed what she’d said. “What?” he asked distractedly. She regarded him grimly. “Hmmm. This is how you act after you get sex. Not even aware of me, not listening. Is THAT really the argument you want to make for yourself?” He hurried to apologize. “I was just thinking about last week,” he explained. She raised an eyebrow. “And? What’s your best case for free-range orgasms?” His face fell. “I don’t know. I liked how I felt during the week. I just don’t know if I can do it all the time.” She came close. “Sweetie, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. And we’ll have plenty of sex. You just won’t have as many orgasms.” Her hand caressed his face. He was suddenly aware that her touch was not quite as electric as it had been only yesterday. What the fuck?! “Tell you what,” she was saying, studying him closely. “We both need to be on board with this for it to work. I mean, I could just decide, of course, but I want you to be supportive, too. “Let’s try it for a month. Just let me be in charge of when you get to come. I’m not going to be mean. I think you know that. Right?” He tried to meet her gaze. Damn, it was hard for him to have an adult conversation with a fully dressed woman when he was wearing a diaper and a onesie. “I know. I’m just…nervous.” She nodded, trying to divine his thoughts. “Scary to give up control, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he confessed. “The thing is, I think you might be right about this. But I like being able to have a say in this.” Julie took his hand and said to him, “Sweetheart, you are a spectacular doctor and a good man. But in our relationship, there are a few things that I have taken ownership of. And I haven’t been wrong yet, correct?” He knew he couldn’t hesitate here, even if he still had reservations about never being allowed to use the potty. “No, Ma’am,” he agreed. “Right,” she said. “This is another of those things. Remember that I get jurisdiction of—” and here she indicated his thighs—”about here”—and then moved her hand up to his waist—“to here, right?” She grinned at him. “That’s all I get. I take care of your diapers and your orgasms. You get everything else.” He nodded slowly. It didn’t sound significant, but…it was, wasn’t it? “Wait,” he said, drawing her into an embrace. “Aren’t we partners? What part of you do I get to control?” Julie smiled at him playfully. He thought he had her there. But she wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t have an answer to that question. “You control my heart, doctor. That’s the most important organ in the human body, isn’t it?” He sighed. It was hopeless. How was it that he had gone to medical school but couldn’t win a single argument with his nurse? Maybe he should have gone to law school. “So let’s try it for a month, okay, babe?” Julie chirped cheerfully. “I’ll make it worth your while…” Her hand tickled his belly, tracing the upper border of his diaper. “Yes, Ma’am.” Julie paused. “Speaking of trusting me, I’ve…got some…news. Tomorrow morning I’m covering a shift at the nursing home for my friend Hannah. She’s going away this weekend. We’d set this up months ago, before you lived here, and before–” she indicated his diapers–”all this.” He nodded. He knew she had worked at the home before his office. He’d never met Hannah, though. Julie was looking at him, like he was supposed to be understanding something important. “It’s a shift that starts at 6 tomorrow morning, until 2:30 in the afternoon. It’s a Saturday. You won’t be up yet.” His eyes widened. His morning routine. First thing in the morning–he’d have a very wet diaper, and then…he’d have a messy diaper. “Oh…” She nodded grimly. “I tried to get out of it, but I can’t find anyone else to cover. I have to do it. So…I asked my mom to come over to help out with the boys…and everything.” He paled. “Julie, I can’t–” She clasped his face in between her warm palms. “Of course you can, baby. My mom knows all about you and your schedule, and she’ll be expecting to change a dirty diaper. It’s fine. She’ll be professional and efficient, just like I was at the beginning. After you get that out of the way, you’ll be old friends, I’m sure,” she said, smiling at him. “This is just like everything else. You’ll need to trust me. There is no need to be overly embarrassed about your poops. Get over it.” She turned to leave the room, then turned back. He was still frozen to the spot, unable to move. “And by the way, this is obviously a fairly big favor she is doing us both, so I expect you to be as polite and helpful to her as you are for me. Be a VERY good boy tomorrow. I don’t want to get a bad report from her about your behavior.” He stood there for several minutes after she left the room. His girlfriend had arranged for her mother to change his messy diaper tomorrow–had essentially decided he needed a babysitter, that he couldn’t be trusted to take care of the boys, or himself, for a few hours on a weekend. He had been fully demoted to being a toddler in Julie’s house, without any autonomy or decision-making ability. He didn’t know whether to be more embarrassed or offended by the situation. They went to a park during the afternoon, then he had some clinical work to do online. By bedtime, he hadn’t figured out how to change his fate the next day. Not surprisingly, Julie was not in the mood for sex. She’d hinted as much earlier when she’d noticed his inattentiveness. After changing him, she was instead buzzing around the bedroom picking out the things she needed to wear in the morning. He watched her nervously from the bed, freshly taped into a clean, thick nighttime diaper. “What if we use the morning as an audition for me to show you how self-sufficient I can be? I’m sure I can change myself. And it’s low stakes. I’m not going anywhere during the day, so if I leak, big deal–” Julie had taken her clothes into her bathroom so she could get dressed in the morning without bothering him. “I think that if we decide to try that, I want to be home for it. Tomorrow is not the day for experiments.” She turned out the bathroom light and climbed into bed with him. “But if–” “Baby, that’s enough. I told you, Mom knows all about your diapers, and is expecting to change you after breakfast.” He reddened all over again, thinking about how that conversation must have gone. “But–” “I know you are stressed about it, baby, but she has changed poopy diapers before. It’s already been decided. Please remember your manners, okay?” She waited for him to answer. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “But Julie, I–” “Please no more. I need you to be a big helper tomorrow. Andrew and Thomas can be a handful at times, and it would be nice if you are around to lend a hand. I need to get some rest now. I do love you!” she yawned, and turned over before he could respond. He wasn’t surprised that she had shut him down. This was the kind of discussion that wasn’t really a discussion. But he was dreading the morning. Sleep did not come easily to him. He tossed and turned for more than an hour, imagining having to go to Mrs. Davis with a loaded diaper and ask her to change him. He imagined her face as she smelled his mess. He imagined their new relationship as babysitter and toddler. Suddenly he thought of an idea. If he could wake up super early and have his breakfast and coffee before Julie had left, maybe she could change him. What time would that be? She had to be at the home by six, so 4:30 should do it, right? That was early, but it reminded him of residency days. He could do it, and catch up on his sleep tomorrow night. He set his alarm, an old digital clock on his side of the bed. He relaxed a bit, happy that he had come up with the workaround he needed, and was finally able to fall asleep. Chapter 23 He awoke to a bright bedroom and the sounds of dishes and happy boys in the kitchen. He was disoriented. Drawn by the smell of coffee, he groggily got up and padded into the kitchen wearing nothing but his diaper and onesie. He froze in the doorway when he saw Mrs. Davis sitting at the table with Andrew and Thomas. She looked up and saw him, a surprised hint of a smile on her face. Oh, shit, he thought. It was Sunday, and Mrs. Davis was here babysitting. But– What had happened? Why hadn’t his alarm awakened him? Rather than engage, he quickly backed away and entered the bedroom. He went to the alarm, which was switched to the “off” position. Had he imagined turning it on? Or had Julie turned it off? Well, crap, this was a nightmare. He should–maybe he– He heard Julie’s voice in his head. “I don’t want a bad report…” He knew he didn’t have a choice, and his heart sank. He wanted to make Julie happy, even if it was embarrassing for him. He swallowed hard, a feeling of dread settle over him. But maybe he could wear pants over his diaper for Mrs. Davis? She probably didn’t know about that little rule, right? He tried and failed to get his jeans over his swollen nighttime diaper, so he went with some sweatpants. He didn’t like the way they bulged, but it was better than just the onesie. He waddled out again to the kitchen. Mrs. Davis and the boys were still sitting at the table, Thomas explaining to his grandmother the difference between two little action figures he had with him. Mrs. Davis glanced over at him as he entered, but to his relief, didn’t say anything about his sweats. He noticed a steaming cup of coffee at the empty chair, and he sat down there. Thomas paused to take a breath, and Mrs. Davis took the opportunity to ask how many pancakes he’d like. Pancakes! This was a treat. “Um, three, please?” he asked. And then Thomas had to show him his little figures and tell him about the story they had been playing before breakfast. Andrew tried hard to add what he thought were important elements to the story as well. It was charming, and he found it hard to be anxious or embarrassed during the meal. Mrs. Davis helped them down from the table when they were finished, and they scampered off to continue playing in the living room. “Julie was never quite so into those action figures when she was little. She played and had quite the imagination though.” Mrs. Davis smiled at the thought. He was taken back to his own childhood and realized that he did have little guys he played with. “Maybe it’s a boy thing? I had little superheroes and dinosaurs that were part of my adventures.” Mrs. Davis was gazing at him, a pensive smile on her face. “I bet you were an adorable little boy. Kids grow up too fast, don’t they?” He mumbled his agreement. He hadn’t been a parent, but he knew this was something all parents said. Mrs. Davis stood up and cleared the dishes. “I’m so glad you are part of Julie’s life. She seems so happy now.” She brought him another cup of coffee, which he accepted. “She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said honestly. “Even–” He’d been about to say, “Even with the diapers,” but then realized that would be way too awkward. He tried to complete a reasonable sentence. “Even though stepping into this family was kind of unexpected. Those boys scared me at first. Now I can’t imagine life without them,” he told her. She sat back down. “That must be a tough thing to do, jumping into their lives like that. But they clearly love you. To them, you are a part of this family,” she said, smiling. “And thank goodness. They need someone male around here. I’ve seen you down on the floor, wrestling with them. They just adore it.” He smiled at the thought. They were like little bear cubs sometimes, crawling on him. He noticed they did treat him differently than they treated Julie. He felt like he was contributing something, and it was nice. “Well,” she said. “I definitely don’t mean to pressure you, so don’t take this that way, but you fit well into this family. We’d be happy to have you more permanently, if it works out for you and Julie.” He swallowed. He’d thought about that, of course. How could he not? Julie was the best person he’d ever met. She nurtured everyone she met, and would make a solid partner. He was deeply in love with her. But…he’d always thought the man was supposed to be in charge. He’d never felt entirely comfortable with that, and had instinctively imagined an equal partnership in a relationship. But his relationship with Julie was not either of those things. She was definitely in charge, and as educated as his was, it still embarrassed him a little. She said she claimed ownership over only a few things, and they did discuss and debate things together. She listened to him. His opinion mattered. But he harbored no doubts about what would happen if there was a stalemate and a decision needed to be made. At work, he was the boss. And he made a thousand decisions every day that affected big parts of people’s health. So in some ways it was a relief to cede decision-making control to Julie when they left work. He thought he could live with that decision permanently, especially as his trust in her and love for her grew. But it was still a leap. He wasn’t sure if he was ready. But what else did he need to know? She loved him, and was willing to take care of even the most intimate (and disgusting!) parts of him. She was weird in some ways, but wasn’t everyone? But would he always have to wear diapers? It seemed– All of a sudden he became aware of Mrs. Davis studying him. He’d gotten lost in his thoughts. “Ahem. That is very kind, Mrs. Davis. You have raised a wonderful daughter. She is…kind, and generous, and caring.” Mrs. Davis smiled. “Yes, Julie is a natural nurse, isn’t she? She has always known what she wants, and usually does a good job going after it. I’ve tried to teach her some secrets about that, of course. Tried to help her make good decisions. She is a little stubborn, but it is usually about the right things. There was only one time she got lost.” “Her ex-husband? She’s mentioned something about that, but we haven’t talked in much detail.” Mrs. Davis got up from the table. “Well, it isn’t my story to tell, of course. You could ask her. We could see potential trouble, but she wanted to believe. In the end it worked out okay, but it was hard. I think it changed her, of course. It had to.” She rinsed plates in the sink, then turned around and apparently caught sight of the boys in the other room. “And, of course we got some wonderful gifts from that terrible relationship. And speaking of them, would you mind keeping an eye on them for a few minutes while I clean up?” He was done with breakfast and coffee. “Yes, ma’am. Happy to help.” He stood up and became more self-conscious again about his soaking wet diaper. It was hard to walk naturally in it when it was this wet. If Mrs. Davis noticed, she didn’t say anything. He felt grateful for that. He waddled out to the living room. The boys were deeply engrossed in a story with their little action figures, the coffee table featuring prominently in one of them becoming lost. At his appearance, they rushed to update him on the situation. He expressed appropriate concern to them so they’d keep playing. At the same time he felt that familiar pressure start to build in his lower abdomen. For a few moments during breakfast, he had wondered if he could avoid having Mrs. Davis change a messy diaper, but that wasn’t going to happen. He thought about asking her if she would mind letting him use the potty. Maybe she wouldn’t want to change him and could see the advantage in that? But what if she told Julie? He thought back to trying to sleep with his bottom burning. Even avoiding the embarrassment of having Mrs. Davis change a messy diaper, of her knowing he pooped in his diaper, wasn’t worth that chance. As if reading his mind, she appeared in the doorway. “Can you give me a few more minutes to get some things ready for you boys? Then we can take care of changing some nighttime diapers.” “Yes, ma’am, it’s no problem,” he responded agreeably, but noticed the wording. “You boys.” While they had had an adult conversation, his diaper also meant he belonged to the “babysat” contingent, not the “babysitting” side. A cramp hit. It was time. And within a few moments, he had pushed out a load into his diaper. At least she wasn’t here to witness that. Maybe she had thoughtfully left him alone to give him a little dignity? He could smell himself now, but the little guys were typically oblivious. They’d found the lost character, but now a book-shaped monster was threatening them. Mrs. Davis re-entered the room, surveying the males with hands on her hips. She looked first to the little ones, who were so deeply engrossed they didn’t notice her. Her eyes turned to him, and cheerfully said, “I think they’ll be okay for a few minutes. Your diaper is hanging pretty low. How about if we take care of you first?” He swallowed and nodded. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.” She smiled. “I love your manners,” she said, as he passed her on the way to the bedroom. He entered the bedroom and saw the changing pad laid out on the bed, and wipes, powder, and a new diaper awaiting him as well. He paused, suddenly acutely embarrassed about what was to happen. But Mrs. Davis swept into the room behind him. “Whew. It smells like you need a change, too,” she said, smiling. “Why don’t you get those pants off and lie down on the bed? That’s how Julie does it, right?” “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, as he took off his sweats, centered himself on the pad, and laid back. “I’m so sorry you have to do this. I told Julie I was more than capable–” “Oh, hush,” Mrs. Davis said. “It’s no trouble.” She reached down to unsnap his onesie. “I don’t even need a diaper for…well, this. But she really wants me to use it all the time, and she doesn’t like me using the bathroom. She won’t really tell me why,” he said, aware that he was talking to quell the embarrassment. He wanted her to know it wasn’t his idea, and that he wasn’t a complete invalid. Mrs. Davis had untaped his diaper. “Shh, I know.” She wiped his penis, cleaning his front quickly and efficiently. “Can you lift your legs now?” she asked. He grabbed his knees and pulled them open as Julie had taught him. “Perfect,” he heard. “Julie has taught you well.” She pulled the diaper away from him and used it to clean him, front to back. “And she keeps you so well shaved. Very nice.” He was sure his face was bright red from the burning he felt in his cheeks. “Julie told me that you don’t like to poop in your diaper. She said you need the diapers because you wet your pants, but that it is just easier to keep you in diapers the whole time. Is that what she told you?” she went on, reaching over to get a wipe. He nodded, deciding not to argue about whether he routinely wet his pants. “Yes, ma’am. It’s–well, it’s obviously just so embarrassing, but she doesn’t want to debate it. I can’t imagine it is easier for her. Or pleasant for that matter,” he noted, feeling the familiar coldness of the wipe clean his bottom. It made him clench his sphincter; that was always a little shock to his system. But it warmed up quickly. Mrs. Davis was obviously experienced. She was fast, too! She smiled grimly. “That’s my girl. I can’t speak for her, but sometimes there are hidden reasons for an action that help explain it.” Mrs. Davis rolled the diaper up. “Okay, lift a little?” He felt the diaper removed and watched her tape up the dirty diaper and set it aside. She looked pensive. She opened the new diaper, seemingly considering something. “I guess I can tell you,” she decided. “Okay, up again?” She slid the diaper under him. “Did you know that I keep her father in diapers?” His eyes widened. He was stunned. What?!! Of course he didn’t know. He’d never met the man. ‘Kept him in diapers?’ “What? Why? What’s wrong?” She sighed. “Well, nothing, other than he’s a man.” He instinctively let his legs fall apart so she could powder him, which she did liberally. He blinked, confused. “A man? What does that have to do with it?” She brushed off her hands and pulled the diaper up between his legs. She considered her words. “I…have found…that he is a better husband and was a better father when he was dependent on me for…his…bathroom needs. So, long story short, that is how we have always done it. For decades now.” He was stunned. That was truly bizarre! But–very similar to his and Julie’s arrangement. Mrs. Davis pulled down the front of his onesie. “Julie said you can wait to get a shower until later when she is home, so if it is okay with you, we’ll wait to get you new clothes, too.” He hardly cared at this point. “That’s fine with me. Thanks. But–so–” She nodded and started snapping his onesie. “Yes, so that is the parental model Julie had growing up. We have a wonderful relationship, so she probably internalized and, what’s the term? Idealized it.” Mrs. Davis put away the wipes and powder. She smiled at him. “So, you see, it doesn’t surprise me to see your arrangement. And I know it doesn’t reflect on you or mean that you can’t take care of yourself. You are a good man, and you listen to your girlfriend. That’s all. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me. So thank you.” He sat up, overwhelmed. How much of their arrangement was him, or the need to be efficient at work, and how much was just the way Julie had been brought up? He had so many questions, and so many new things to consider. Mrs. Davis, however, had moved on. “Okay, well, I’ve got to get out and take care of Andrew and Thomas now before they leak. I’m not sure what you’ve got to do this morning, but you are welcome to play with us. I’ve got some crafts, and I think we’ll probably head out for a walk once it warms up.” He nodded, distracted. But he remembered to be polite. “Thank you. I’ve got some little things to do, but I’m happy to come along and help out where I can.” Mrs. Davis left the room. He was stunned, but some pieces certainly did fall into place. Why Julie had thought his wearing diapers would be a reasonable solution, why she wasn’t embarrassed about it. But did she think he needed to be a “better” boyfriend? What had he done wrong to make her think that? She hadn’t even known what he was like as a boyfriend before he wore diapers for her. Why hadn’t she ever told him about this? The rest of the morning passed quickly. He worked a little, then played with the boys to give Mrs. Davis a break. She asked him once before lunch if he needed a change. “No, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t think so.” He wasn’t too surprised when she came over and prodded his diaper to confirm. She nodded. “I agree. You’ll last a while. Carry on.” The morning with Mrs. Davis had gone well, for all of his worrying. She, like Julie, was matter-of-fact about the diaperings. She hadn’t belittled him, just treated it like a fact of life. He was grateful to her for that, even if she sometimes lumped him in with the little boys at times. They enjoyed a nice lunch, then had a walk. The boys were changed and put down for a nap. Mercifully, there was no talk of napping for him. He was reading a medical journal when he became aware of Mrs. Davis tidying up. He looked at the clock. It was mid-afternoon, time for Julie to come home. Her gaze fell upon him, and she paused. “Let’s get you changed into a nice dry diaper before Julie comes home.” He protested, “I’m not that wet, I can wait.” Sure, Mrs. Davis was kind and professional about the whole thing, but did he constantly have to be on his back around these women? Besides, he was right in the middle of an article about– She shook her head. “You boys would go all day in a wet diaper if you could. No, it’s not nice for her to come home to a wet diaper. Let’s go. We’ll get you dry and comfortable.” He opened his mouth again, but realized Julie’s mom had made up her mind. Decisive women ran in the family, apparently. He followed Mrs. Davis back into the bedroom and sat on the bed while she rummaged around for the supplies. “Okay, lie back,” she said as her hands went to his onesie again. “I love this fabric. So playful. Julie has turned into quite a seamstress. I’ll have to look around for more patterns for her. Just adorable.” He was a little alarmed at this. “Um, do you think you could put in a plug for something more, um, grown-up? You know, normal colors or something?” She had untaped him and was wiping him already. “Oh, but these are adorable. A onesie should be cute and child-like. But it wouldn’t hurt to have more variety. You probably need a ‘good boy’ onesie with trucks and footballs, and then one for when you need to be taken down a peg.” His eyes bulged. Where was this going? She had unfolded the new diaper. “Up–there you go. Tell me, how would you feel about a nice pink onesie with unicorns and princesses on it?” He choked. “No! Please! Why would I want that?” She smiled as she taped him up. “Ooh, struck a nerve with that one, huh? I’ll make sure to find a nice girly one to use as a punishment onesie. You don’t have one of those yet, right? For after a spanking?” He was speechless. How did she know about–had Julie told her everything? He just stared at her in embarrassment. She smiled as his cheeks burned. “I’m her mother. Of course we talk.” She cleaned up, disposed of the wet diaper, and snapped him back up. “Well, I’ve got some homework to do, apparently. Gotta get on that.” She went into Julie’s bathroom to wash her hands. He needed to talk to Julie about this onesie thing, and about talking to her mother about their most private– Just then he heard the front door open, so he set aside those thoughts and hurriedly waddled out of the bedroom. Julie was arriving home. She put her purse down on the counter and took in the sight of him entering the kitchen in his onesie. She smiled. “How’s my big boy? How was your day?” He opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say that sounded like what a boyfriend might say, not a child. Most of the day had been spent worrying about diapers, then privacy about onesies and spankings. But Mrs. Davis walked into the kitchen. Julie turned to her mother, eyebrows raised. “Everything go okay today, Mom?” Her mother smiled. “Of course, honey. All of your boys were well behaved, and you have a keeper in this one,” she said, indicating him. He blushed. Julie came over to him and put her arms around him fondly. “Oh, yeah? He didn’t give you too much trouble?” Mrs. Davis smiled and put on her jacket. “Trouble? Of course not. We got to know each other, and he was a big help with the boys.” She picked up her purse. “But I do hope it is the regular time tomorrow. This was an early morning.” Julie said, “Yep, that sounds good. I’m sure that was rough on everybody,” she added, giving him a look. “Let me walk you out, Mom.” When Julie returned, she surveyed the apartment. Perhaps awakened by the door closing repeatedly, the boys sleepily toddled out of their room. Seeing their mother, they broke into a run and gave her a big hug around her legs. “Oh, that’s what I needed after being at work on a Sunday!” she exclaimed, squatting down and letting the boys kiss and hug her. “Anyone need a change?” Andrew and Thomas submitted to having their diapers checked, but Julie found them clean and (mostly) dry. She turned to him. “How about you, mister?” Her hand cupped his crotch, though her eyes didn’t leave his. Her eyebrows rose. “A completely dry diaper?” “Just changed,” he explained shyly. Julie’s face showed surprise. She hadn’t expected him to need more than his morning change. “Your mom insisted.” She smiled. “She can be convincing.” She stood and gave him a deep kiss, ignoring her sons trying to get her attention. “Thank you for being such a good boy.” Then she turned to the kids. “Show me what you guys did today!” Chapter 24 He made supper for the family, which she appreciated after a day at work. The boys had asked for spaghetti, and, luckily, he could boil water. After Andrew and Thomas went to bed, he and Julie sat and talked on the sofa. “Mom said you didn’t put up any fuss at all today. Aren’t you big!” she said, stroking his hair fondly. He dropped his eyes. “Your mom was very kind. It was horribly embarrassing. But she was nice about it.” “Oh, good. I told you it would be fine.” Time to get some answers. He gathered his courage and asked, “Did you turn off my alarm? I’d set it so I could–um, say goodbye to you this morning.” She snorted. “I know why you set it, you goof. Yes, I turned it off. You need your weekend sleep. And apparently, just like I’d promised, it turned out just fine. You remember that next time you second-guess me.” He nodded. It still would have been better his way. On to the big revelation of the day. “You never told me that your dad wears diapers. Your mom says she thinks that’s why you don’t let me use your bathroom.” She paused, her eyebrows raised. “Did she now?” He sat up a little, looking at her fully. “Didn’t you think I’d like to know that? That I might find it relevant?” This time it was Julie who broke eye contact. She looked down for a moment, then back to him. “Yes, I know. It was just–it was just hard for me to find a way to explain. I realize you might be interested in that.” She thought for a moment. “I never knew my father before their…arrangement. He was always in diapers, and I grew up thinking it was common. He was never embarrassed in front of me, just matter-of-fact. I assumed he needed them,” she told him. “It wasn’t until I got married that Mom confessed it had nothing to do with medical need. She explained that Dad seemed more, um, devoted to her when she kept him in diapers. It wasn’t that he was abusive or mean. He was a good man, she said. But–he just seemed more present and emotionally available to her when he used diapers instead of the potty. “She decided that, for them, their relationship would be better if he stayed in diapers. He later agreed, apparently. He needed them, but not for a physical reason. He needed them to be the best husband and father he could be.” Julie’s eyes dropped again. “My marriage was terrible. I know I haven’t talked much about it. I don’t like to think about it. I thought I knew what I wanted in a man. Let’s just say, I was young then. It probably would have been better if I had an arrangement like my parents had, but…he…wouldn’t consider it. “Our relationship was terrible, even with two little babies. Maybe worse because of that, I don’t know. When I told him I wanted to try diapering him, I knew how it would go down. And it was predictably bad. He told me I was a freak. It’s not the only reason we got a divorce, but it might have sped the process a little.” She smiled grimly. “And that was okay with me. I’d given him an ultimatum, and he chose divorce. In retrospect, that was definitely the better option.” He reached out to her, his hand on hers. “I’m sorry you had to go through that marriage. But–I’m trying to understand how I’m–why you wanted me to–ugh, I don’t know. We weren’t in a relationship at the time. Were you thinking we should be? Do I remind you of your ex-husband in some way?” She laughed. “No, sweetie. I put you in a diaper because you needed it. We really did need to work better together.” She looked at him fondly. “But you can see why it seemed, oh, I don’t know, like, reasonable. You looked at me like I was crazy,” she said. “But it wasn’t weird to me. Just what I grew up with.” He sat next to her, in thought. This explained a lot, actually. Why an adult wearing a diaper wasn’t bizarre to her. Why it was the first solution she had thought of at work. Why she still thought he was datable even though she had changed his dirty diapers. He felt relieved that she didn’t think of him the same way as her ex-husband. But she rose now, apparently done with the conversation. “Let’s go to bed now. I had an early morning, you know.” Later as they snuggled together in bed, they were each lost in their own thoughts. Julie, satisfied from 2 orgasms he had given her, was pondering how lucky she felt. She had entered this relationship attracted but wary, wondering if she could persuade a physician to give up ultimate control to her. She hadn’t been been able to assume they’d have a personal relationship necessarily, but was just looking for a bigger say in her professional career. But she had fallen in love with his gentle and naïve openness, his willingness to follow her lead, which encouraged her to push him further down an unknown road. Now, that road seemed even more inviting and promising. She had been leery of another relationship, honestly, but this was on her terms. Her mother had shown her the way. He was under her thumb in such a personal and total way that she felt completely secure. She was delighted that he was actually diaper dependent, which was not something she’d known to expect. Her father, apparently, was not. But this development meant that she could be supportive and helpful, not pushy and controlling, and still keep his infantile side front and center. And while she had thought the diapers would be the key to keeping him humble and well controlled, now she realized that she had unintentionally stumbled upon another big key, never mentioned by Mom. Controlling orgasms was clearly more powerful than she had expected, and seemed to work well with the diapers. They kept his hands out of trouble. The longer he went without an orgasm, the more obedient and eager to serve he became, and the less likely he was to complain about the diapers. It was a perfect system! If he thought that this month of orgasm control was going to end, he would be surprised. She had heard of chastity cages; if he put up any kind of fuss, he would find himself locked in a cage inside of a diaper. A part of her almost hoped he balked at following her lead on this, but she also knew it would be better if he was invested in making it work. So she would have to make it fun for him, even if his sex life was changing forever… And hers was, too. She hadn’t known how much she liked the gentle domination that had evolved, but it worked for her! Yet another reason they’d never go back to him being in control. She considered the path ahead. She thought she had done a good job preserving his ego—a critical challenge with any man. She didn’t want him to be completely emasculated, just deferential to her. She had laid down the law, and he had accepted. He was getting more and more dependent on her, and yet remained the efficient, caring provider she had loved. He wasn’t going to cheat on her, she felt sure: as perfect a mate as he had turned into, wearing diapers probably made him less appealing to others. She had made him more attractive to her and less of a catch for others. He was the perfect partner, and he was all hers! She couldn’t be happier. “Baby, you still awake?” she asked quietly. He was. He was simply thinking about his unfulfilled sexual need. It was true that Julie had played with him a little, but she had decided he wasn’t going to cum tonight. She didn’t seem mad at him, so he guessed that it was just to keep him frustrated. “Yes, ma’am,” she heard him murmur. It was starting to give her a little sexual thrill to hear him say that. She cleared her throat. “I have a confession to make.” “Oh?” He’d been getting drowsy, but this roused him a little. She turned toward him in bed, and she reached out to caress his face. “I kind of like this.” He was confused. “Like what?” She stared into his eyes. “Us. Together.” She propped herself up on her elbow. “I like you here in the apartment, with my boys. I like you, in diapers, letting me change you.” She smiled. “And I really like that you let me decide when you get to come.” He swallowed. He wasn’t so sure that would always work for him. But…this probably wasn’t the time to argue, he could see. He smiled a bit to himself. Actually, there was never a good time to argue, was there? Her hand was tickling his chest now. “We’re good together, aren’t we?” He nodded and admitted what he had known for a while now. “Yes, ma’am, we are.” Julie swallowed, a bit nervously, it seemed to him. “What would you think about making this arrangement more, um, permanent?” He was thinking about the sex. He still wasn’t sure he liked the new system…but…maybe she wasn’t just talking about the sex. “What–” Now she was looking intently into his eyes. “What would you think of getting married?” she asked. He swallowed, but his throat was suddenly dry. “Is this a proposal?” She stared for just a moment, then nodded. Her voice was suddenly kind of husky. “Yes, I think it is.” He was surprised. Wasn’t he supposed to propose? But he admitted to himself that nothing about their relationship had been conventional. He’d thought about marriage. A lot, actually, since they’d been living together. But it was a leap. Sure, it was probably always a huge step, but this…this arrangement… Julie had asked him to do all sorts of bizarre things: wear and use diapers, poop and pee in front of her, allow her to change them and dress him in babyish clothes, allow her to spank him and control his orgasms. He thought back to the first day, when she’d fixed him with that “mom” look and told him to pull his pants down so she could diaper him. It had all followed from his decision to obey her at that moment. He hadn’t felt like he’d had a choice that day. Had he ever had a choice since then. Well, it seemed like he had a choice tonight. It was all incredibly embarrassing, but it had taken him down a spectacularly intimate path. She truly didn’t seem to care about things other people found humiliating or gross. He had gone with it. If she didn’t care, why should he? After wearing diapers for a few months, he wasn’t confident he could keep his pants dry. That wasn’t good, and it was a direct consequence of following Julie’s suggestions. But if he was with Julie, it didn’t really matter, did it? He realized that nothing really bad had happened to him since they had been together, despite all of her twisted instructions. There were some difficulties with how she wanted him to live, but with her help, it was easy. In fact, after a day full of making nonstop important decisions, how nice was it to come home and not have to worry about deciding anything? And now, he had to admit, he was accustomed to wearing diapers. After so much intimate touching and teasing, the smell of baby powder gave him an erection. Her “baby” voice, the quiet soothing voice she used when changing him, made him hard. Even that stern look she gave him, almost every day for some reason or another, turned him on. He realized he loved being babied by Julie. It had been a crazy ride so far that had challenged him. But he loved this woman. Maybe they could still work on his wetting problem. Prior to today, he had been sure she wouldn’t want him in diapers forever, but now he wasn’t entirely sure. Did it really matter, though? He smiled at her. “If I say yes, can we have sex tonight?” She laughed. “Definitely not.” He stared at her with an expression that said, Seriously?! She patted his cheek. “But I’ll make sure you enjoy it when we DO have sex. This time and every time.” Exasperated, he fell back on his pillow. She leaned over him and kissed him. “Have I ever steered you wrong yet? By this point, you should trust me, right?” He relaxed and realized she was right. Julie was always right. He was so happy with her. He would stay with her, in diapers, getting sex when she said so and being spanked when he angered her. Because somehow, now, that seemed like the place he had always been meant to be. So he answered her proposal the only way he knew how. He made sure she could hear his manners. “Yes, ma’am.” And she smiled.

Rick grew up in a fairly rural town. The houses weren’t miles apart or anything, but it definitely took some effort to drop in on your neighbors. There were several families in Rick’s neighborhood, so carpooling was the norm given the distance to get to school, sports practice, music lessons, etc. One evening, while coming home from soccer practice with his friend Aaron, Aaron’s mom Gloria said she needed to stop off for a few groceries. “You two can go choose a soda, and meet me back here in five minutes,” she instructed the boys as they all made their way into the store. Rick and Aaron took off for the soda aisle, but made a brief stop in the bakery where some fresh donut samples had been laid out. After stuffing their faces, they each grabbed a bottle of soda and headed back to the registers. Back in the car, the boys guzzled their sodas on the way home. “Now don’t spoil your dinner,” Gloria chided in a colloquial, old fashioned way, “or else you’ll get your bare bottoms spanked.” Rick’s mouth hung open. He had never been spanked, but he knew Aaron got it from time to time and the subject has fascinated Rick for some time. “She’s definitely just teasing,” he thought, “but what if…” His mind started to wander. Aaron piped up from the front seat, “We already accomplished that!” “Getting your bare bottom spanked??” Gloria balked. “No! Spoiling our dinner! There were donut samples in the bakery.” “Ohhh.” Gloria replied. “Well hopefully you worked up enough of an appetite on the soccer field.” They all laughed, and the moment passed. ————— Fifteen years later, now at age 27, Rick had moved to the city and had a steady job. He had gone through a few girlfriends of late, never quite finding that strong connection. His fascination with spanking had grown considerably over the last several years, and he’d had serious difficulty divulging his fantasies to any of his romantic partners. But his cravings for a sound, bare bottomed spanking from a strong woman never abated. He found himself day dreaming about it often, what it would be like to have his pants yanked down and be thrown over the lap of a stern lady, be it a coworker, friend or a stranger off the street. Whoever was delivering it, Rick just knew he wanted to be spanked. That summer, Rick was visiting his family back out in the country. His mom told him that Gloria’s husband had left her, and her kids had grown and moved out, leaving her alone in the big house down the road. She urged Rick to go pay her a visit one evening and provide some company, even texting Gloria to make sure she was home before practically shoving Rick out the door to go see her. As he walked down the long country road, carrying a bottle of wine his mom had provided, his mind slowly drifted to the day Gloria had playfully threatened him with a bare bottomed spanking. He recalled how quickly the moment had passed, but how impactful it had been. The rest of that car trip home, he pictured her pulling the car to the side of the road to dispense the punishments. Walking down the very road where the spanking could have taken place, he felt his member begin to stiffen in his pants. He wondered if he might be able to steer the conversation with Gloria tonight toward that incident… Gloria greeted him at the door with a big smile and a warm embrace. Hugging her back, Rick caught the scent of her perfume and was again transported back in time to that infamous day in Gloria’s minivan. As she pulled out of the hug and ushered him in the door, he half expected a few pats on the rear, but alas, they never came. Following her into the kitchen, Rick noted how well she had aged. Her figure was impeccable, wide hips and a round butt, accentuated by the high-waisted shorts she wore. Her button down blouse was open far enough that Rick got a great look at her pert cleavage. “Have a seat at the table there, Ricky, I’ll open this wine,” she instructed, using his childhood nickname. Lately he far preferred the more grown-up sounding “Rick.” Returning quickly with the open bottle and two glasses, Gloria remarked, “Look at you, all grown up! I still remember when you were a little boy, running around this neighborhood causing mischief.” She winked at him and poured the wine. Gloria’s teasing and maternal time made Rick blush. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, but smiled and took a big gulp of his wine. “Oh come on… I never caused mischief! I was a perfect a perfect angel,” he replied, batting is eyelashes and flashing a toothy grin. Gloria giggled, “I wouldn’t go that far… but I guess you were fairly well behaved. At least by comparison to my own.” Rick was getting antsy. The conversation had already started out in the direction he had hoped for. His mouth was getting dry, so he gulped down some liquid courage. But then, Gloria abruptly changed the topic. “So catch me up on you! You’re living in the big city??” Small talk ensued as the two of them got caught up. They chatted, laughed and drank, and after an hour or so the wine bottle was empty. Just as Rick began to fret that their time together might end without even a reference to spanking, Gloria picked up the empty wine bottle. Standing, she said, “Well we’re just having too much fun here, we’ll need another bottle. I want to do some more reminiscing.” She returned with a fresh bottle and topped off their glasses. “It’s still a bit funny for me seeing you drink wine. You’re still just a little boy in my mind!” Again Rick blushed. “It was great growing up around here. You were always kinda like a second mom for me.” “Aw, how sweet,” Gloria cooed. “Yes I suppose it was like that. We all looked after each other’s kids in this community.” “Yeah, but it’s not like I needed looking after… I was always a really good boy, wasn’t I??” “Oh yes, very polite and well behaved. Not like the kids in my house,” Gloria chuckled and shook her head. “I always told them, ‘why can’t you behave like that good boy Ricky?!’” Rick laughed nervously. He saw an opening. “Well you didn’t always think so… you did threaten to spank me that one time on the way home from soccer practice.” His words hung in the air. He could hardly believe he had brought this up, but there was no turning back now. Gloria looked at him quizzically. She seemed to be racking her brain. “I don’t recall that…? You were always so polite when we car pooled!” Rick was nervous that he’d overstepped. But he had come this far… “You warned Aaron and me not to spoil our dinner with soda,” he said. Pausing to sip his wine briefly, he added, “or else we’d ‘get our bare bottoms spanked.’” He used air quotes, and held his breath. Gloria studied him for a moment, then clapped her hands together loudly and laughed. “Ohhh yes!” She wagged a finger at him, “You boys were sneaking donuts in the bakery if I recall correctly.” “Yes ma’am,” Rick reflexively replied, suddenly feeling like a little boy again. Gloria clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “And here I was praising you up and down, not remembering you were capable of plenty of naughtiness too.” She smiled and sipped her wine. Rick giggled softly. Silence hung in the air for a few moments. Rick’s cock had be come stiff, and began to throb with anticipation. Finally, Gloria cut through the silence. “Well since you seem to recall this event so vividly, what happened next?” she asked. “Did I pull over to the side of the road and give you a smacked butt?” “No ma’am,” Rick returned, a bit sorrowfully. “Do you think I should have?” Rick stared across the table. Could this possibly be about to happen? He steeled his courage. “Yes ma’am.” Gloria’s eyes pierced through him across the table. She knew deep down all men were still just boys, and they never outgrew the need for firm discipline and a sore smacked bottom. Here in her kitchen, Gloria had a young man who was practically asking to be put across her knee and taught a lesson. What luck. She decided to toy with him a bit more first. “Perhaps it’s not too late. You clearly seem to have thought about that day a lot over the last several years. Maybe you are harboring some guilt about it all.” Rick was putty in her hands. He was silent. Gloria waited a moment, then prodded him. “Well?” “Yes ma’am,” was all Rick could muster. “I see,” Gloria said. She sipped her wine. “Don’t you think you’re a bit too old for a spanking, Ricky?” “Um… well… I’m not… I guess I…” She cut him off. He was firmly wrapped around her finger now - no need to make him keep wriggling. “The correct answer is no you are not too big for a spanking. I believe no one is.” Gloria watched the expression on Rick’s face vacillate between excitement and trepidation. She decided to lighten the mood. “In fact, I sure wish I had spanked that deadbeat husband of mine! I’m sure he wouldn’t have walked out on me if I’d have put him across my knee on a regular basis.” Gloria chuckled. Rick laughed in kind, nervously. “Well then,” she redirected, “you’re sitting here telling me you believe you deserve a spanking?” Rick gulped. He blinked, and answered, “Yes ma’am.” “I know your mother didn’t spank you growing up. Have you ever had a proper spanking?” “No ma’am.” “Well it is certainly high time then. But I want you to understand what you’re getting yourself into, Ricky. “A spanking from me is serious business. You will be put over my knee and thoroughly punished, with a very red and very sore backside. I only ever give spankings on the bare bottom, and I always spank with my hairbrush. You will likely have a hard time sitting down the rest of the evening, and possibly even all day tomorrow.” She let her lecture sink in. Gloria could tell that Ricky wouldn’t back down, that he was craving maternal nurturing and discipline. And possibly craving something else… “So, knowing that, do you still want a spanking?” Gloria was right. There was no way Rick was backing down now. “Yes ma’am,” he said, rather timidly. “Alright then. Stand up young man.” Rick slowly rose from his chair, and Gloria stood to meet him. Taking him by the wrist, she led him around the table. Silently, she escorted him to the foot of the stairs. Leading the way, Gloria took her time shaking her hips side to side slightly as she climbed the stairs, knowing the naughty boy trailing behind her was surely enjoying the view. She had noticed the tent in his pants when he stood from the kitchen table, and sought to tease him a bit. Opening the door to one of the vacated bedrooms, she pointed to a corner of the room. “I want you to stand in the corner and think hard about what is about to happen, and about why you are being punished.” Rick complied, shuffled across the room and stuck his nose in the corner. Gloria came up behind him and quickly unsnapped and unzipped his pants. Hooking her hands in the rear waistband, she said “Let’s have these down,” and quickly tugged Rick’s pants and boxers down exposing his bare butt. His hard cock held them up in the front, and dripped into his underwear with anticipation. “I’ll be back. Don’t you move.” Gloria punctuated her command with a sharp slap on his naked bottom, and quickly left the room closing the door behind her. In the hallway, she gushed. How fortunate that little Ricky had been so eager for a good spanking. She was a bit titillated and more than happy to oblige him. Having just gotten a good look at his cute, tender backside, she knew she would enjoy herself while punishing him. She took out her phone and texted Ricky’s mother. “Hey there,” she wrote, “Ricky’s had a bit too much to drink and I think it’s best if he just stay here tonight. I’ve got plenty of space, and it will be nice to have someone around overnight for a change. I’ll have him check in with you in the morning, ok?” Rick’s mom texted back quickly. “Oh so glad you two are having a fun night! Enjoy the company, and give him a kiss goodnight for me.” “Will do!” Gloria sent right back, thinking devilishly, “I’ll give him more than just a kiss!!” Gloria walked down the hall to retrieve her hairbrush. Picking it up off her vanity, she caught sight of herself holding it in the mirror. A wry smile spread across her face. It had been so long since she’d had occasion to use the brush to deliver a spanking. Though out of practice, she had no lack of confidence in her abilities. Ricky was surely in for a blistered bottom! For his part, Rick stood facing the wall, his mind a blur. His feelings of excitement and disbelief that his spanking fantasy was about to become reality were coupled with fear after Gloria’s detailed description of how the harsh spanking would be. Still, his cock stood at full attention and he knew he’d have to go through with it. If not, he’d just go back to always wondering, what if…? Gloria returned to the bedroom and sat down on the neatly made twin bed. She laid the hairbrush in her lap, flat side up, and beckoned Rick from his place in the corner. “Come sit next to me on the bed dear,” she instructed. Rick shuffled over, his pants slightly impeding him, his bare bottom still on display. He sat next to Gloria, and relished the soft fabric of the blankets connecting with his naked cheeks. “Now Ricky, I’m going to give you one last chance to change your mind. Once you are across my lap, no matter how much you beg, cry or scream, I won’t stop until I decide you’ve learned your lesson.” Rick’s eyes were transfixed on the brush in Gloria’s lap. Taking his chin with one finger, she lifted his head to meet her gaze. He felt about two feet tall. “If you truly want this, and truly believe you deserve it,” she said, “I want you to ask me.” Rick took a deep breath. “Mrs. C.” he said, using the name he had called her throughout his childhood, “will you please put me over your lap and spank my bare bottom? I have been naughty and deserve to be punished.” Gloria smiled at him. “Yes, young man, you have been naughty and you do deserve a spanking. I will gladly put you over my lap and teach you the lesson you need to learn. Stand up.” Rick rose to his feet, feeling much more like “Ricky” than he had in quite some time. Gloria set the hairbrush aside and tugged his pants down further below knees, exposing his massive hard on. Gloria took note, running a single painted fingernail up the shaft. “My my, you certainly are a big boy these days aren’t you? I think we’ll have to make your friend here go away, one way or another.” She quickly snatched his elbow and flopped him headlong across her ample thighs. She captured his hard cock between her bare thighs and squeezed it tightly. Wrapping her left arm around his waist, she started in smacking his bottom with her right hand. Rick’s cheeks quickly turned pink and he began to wriggle. There was a sting, no doubt, but the hand spanks were driving delightful vibrations through his most sensitive areas. Gloria’s grip on his cock between her legs tightened, and he felt his excitement build. Wetness oozed from the tip and provided sensational lubrication as he rubbed against her skin. Gloria picked up the pace and intensity, sensing that the young man was close to climaxing. She allowed his hips to buck up and down slightly, his cock sliding between her thighs. With his butt starting to really redden, Rick finally let loose. The pressure that had built over the last several minutes was released in a massive orgasm, spilling hot cum all over Gloria’s legs. As he moaned in ecstasy, she stopped spanking and rubbed his bottom gently. As he fell limp across her lap, she slowly reached and picked up the brush. Tapping it against his bottom, Rick flinched and gasped. “Now that we’ve dispensed with your little fantasy, we can get down to business,” she chided. “Brace yourself little boy, it is time for your punishment spanking.” Rick felt the brush leave his bottom, and held his breath… Gloria tapped the brush against Rick’s reddening backside. The young man flinched across her lap. With his libido faded, she knew he likely was suddenly less interested in continuing the spanking. “All the more reason to make this a memorable experience,” she thought. Gloria reared back, and brush exploded across Rick’s naked rear. He gasped in shock and instinctively reached back to rub out the sting. Gloria quickly grabbed his wrist and pinned him in place. She began the onslaught. She spanked him hard and steady for several minutes, without speaking a word. Rick wriggled and writhed over her knee, moaning and whimpering, but not yet crying or asking for it to stop. Gloria knew she had a long way to go. She paused for a moment to admire the crimson color that had spread across his cheeks, at the same time tightening her grip on Rick’s wrist so he knew she was not through with him yet. She alternated cheeks, expertly smacking each side with the brush and spreading the sting to all parts of his bottom. She began to scold. “I should have turned you over my knee a long time ago. You are clearly still just a naughty little boy who needs a mommy to look after him. I have a feeling this will not be the last time I have to give your bare bottom a good dose of my hairbrush.” Rick couldn’t believe how much the spanking hurt. His ass was on fire, and the heat only continued to grow. As Gloria scolded him, his mind was able to drift for a moment away from the sting and to her words and disposition. He noted how he felt so small, truly like a little boy being punished by his mommy. He felt searing embarrassment, but also a strange sense of reassurance, that Gloria was spanking him because she cared for him. Gloria kept scolding as she continued beating his bottom. “This is what happens to naughty boys who misbehave,” she chided. “They have their pants taken down and they go over the knee for a good, hard, old fashioned, bare bottomed spanking.” Each word was punctuated by a hard slap of the hairbrush. “This is just what you can expect from now on - a soundly smacked backside each and every time I decide you need one.” Finally, the pain became too much for Rick to bear. He kicked his legs and began begging for mercy. “Please!” he shouted, “I’m sorry! Please stop!” Gloria, though, showed no mercy. She threw her right leg over Rick’s legs to stop his kicking and lock him in place. She turned up the intensity, seeking to make the boy submit and cry. “I will stop when I’m good and ready. Since you’ve never had a spanking, we have some lost time to make up for. This will be a lesson you will not forget anytime soon, little boy, I promise you that.” Rick’s butt has turned deep red and was showing some signs of purple in a few spots. He wiggled on her lap futilely, moaning and ouching loudly. She knew she was getting close. She spanked him as hard as she could, finally hearing some sniffling and feeling his body go limp across her lap. Gloria paused for a moment, resting the brush on his throbbing bottom. Rick sobbed softly, praying the blistering was over. Rubbing the brush in small circles around his sit spots, she indicated she was not done with him yet. She told him so. “We’re not quite finished here, young man. I am going to paddle you 20 more times. These will be hard and will hurt quite a bit. It’s ok for you to cry. After I’m done, you’ll go back in the corner for ten minutes. Do you understand?” Rick was silent, other than his muffled sobbing and sniffling. Gloria reared back and smacked him hard. “OOOWWWW!! Yes ma’am!!” Rick yelled. “Good boy,” she said. Without waiting another moment, she reared again and delivered the 20 blistering spanks. Rick bawled like a baby. Then, finally, it was over. Gloria let go of his wrist and gently rubbed his bottom. Rick lay limply across her lap, sniffing and sobbing. “It’s ok sweetie, it’s all over now. You took your spanking like a very good boy. You can get up whenever you’re ready.” She continued caressing his backside, taking stock of how warm it had become. Rick didn’t move for several minutes. His head was spinning, still trying to catch his breath. As he regained a sense of himself, he became aware of the gentle petting on his red hot ass. He had been punished thoroughly, given a good beating, but by someone who cared enough to give him what he so badly needed. She now reassured him with a gentle touch, telling him he was a good boy. It felt so good. Eventually, Rick rose to his feet. Gloria did not remove her hand from his bare bottom, and kept up her caress. She beamed up at him from her seat on the bed and smiled warmly. “You are a good boy, Ricky. And even good boys need spankings sometimes.” Rick wiped his nose. “Yes ma’am.” Gloria leaned over and produced a tub of baby wipes from the nightstand drawer. Removing a few, she reached up and wiped Rick’s nose and cheeks. With side-eyed wink, she then turned to wipe Rick’s mess from her bare thighs. “I have learned to keep wipes handy when spanking naughty big boys, in case of any accidents,” she smiled. Rick blushed. As she finished wiping up, she instructed, “Ok buster, in the corner for ten more minutes. Then it’s straight to bed.” Rick stared for a moment. “Oh right. You can sleep right here tonight,” she patted the bed. “I’ve already contacted your mother and let her know you’ll be spending the night.” Rick’s jaw dropped. She called his mother?? “Oh sweetie- don’t worry,” pinching his sore bottom, “this part is our little secret.” He breathed a momentary sigh of relief, before she slapped his butt sharply. He jumped straight in the air. “Now go stand in the corner little boy!” she commanded. Pants at his ankles, Rick waddled across the room to endure the last part of his punishment. “And no rubbing!” she called after him, “hands at you sides.” He did as he was told and faced the wall without reaching back to ease the intense pain in his rear end. He could hear Gloria shuffling around the room. She left briefly, and Rick had a chance to process what had happened. For so long, he had fantasized about this moment and now here it was. He relished every bit of it, even the throbbing soreness across his still-bare backside. The stillness of the moment was broken when Gloria came back in the room, and saw him standing there. She had gone to find some pajamas, and now from the doorframe of the bedroom, she witnessed Ricky. The boy from up the road, now 27 and fully grown - bare bottomed and well spanked, propped in the corner on display. The perfect picture of a naughty little boy. She laid the pajamas out on the bed. “Ok young man, come on over here. Time to get you ready for bed.” Rick turned to see her sitting in the bed, with a set of flannel pajamas neat on the bed next to her. He waddled over, pants and boxers still about his feet. Gloria reached down. “Let’s get you out of these,” she said. Rick attempted to grab his underwear, but Gloria slapped his hand gently, and pulled his feet through both leaving him naked from the waist down. She rolled up the legs of the pajama pants and held them out for him to step in. Feeling like he was about four years old, Rick put his hands on Gloria’s shoulders and allowed her to pull the pants all the way up and tie the draw string. The soft fabric felt nice on his swollen butt, and also rubbed him in the right ways in front… “Arms up,” she instructed. Knowing better than to even think about not complying, Rick lifted his arms. In a matter of seconds, Gloria had removed his t-shirt and replaced it with the matching flannel pajama top. “Ok, Ricky, now you are still being punished so it’s straight to bed,” Gloria said. “I’ve left to toothbrush on the sink. I want you to brush your teeth, use the toilet and get right back in here.” As if in a trance, Rick methodically brushed his teeth, peed, and returned to the room. Gloria stood over the bed with the covers turned down. He smiled at her sheepishly and lay on the mattress on his side. Kneeling to tuck him in, she said, “I’ll check on you in 20 minutes. I expect you to be asleep.” Reaching over and patting his bottom, she emphasized, “It is lights out time, so don’t even think about getting out of this bed. I think you know now what will happen if you disobey me.” Cringing as the somewhat gentle slaps sent waves of sting through his ass - but also sent vibrations to his cock - Rick meekly replied as he had all night, “Yes ma’am.” “Goodnight sweetie,” standing, Gloria kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Mrs. C,” Rick said softly. Gloria smiled broadly. “Anytime sweetie,” she returned. Leaning down and spanking him several times, she chuckled and added, “in fact I expect I’ll get another opportunity sooner than later.” Rick yelped. And giggled. And felt his manhood stiffening against the soft flannel pants. Gloria pecked him once more, then turned off the lights and closed the door. Left alone, he tried diligently to comply and go right to sleep. He was emotionally and physically exhausted. But replaying the night’s events in his head, he found it hard to sleep, and found something else hard as well… Reaching down between his legs with both hands, Rick rubbed the soft flannel against his stiff member. The sensation was incredible. Closing his eyes he gripped his cock and pictured himself sprawled across Gloria’s lap, being spanked red by her hairbrush. Continuing to rub with his right hand, he reached back and touched his sore bottom. Rubbing the soft fabric against the bruises, squeezing firmly, his dick became immense and dripped with anticipation. It only took a few more minutes of stroking before he squirted cum down his leg and all over the inside of his pajamas. As the ecstasy of the orgasm wore off, his body finally gave in to exhaustion and he quickly fell deeply asleep.

Note: All characters are meant to be depicted as over 18. This story is fictional. It involves non-consensual diapering, blackmail, attempted sexual abuse, and spanking, so proceed cautiously. I wrote this somewhere around 1995, posting it in a chatroom board called alt.sex.fetish.diapers. Then I got busy with medical residency and raising a young family. In the decades since, there have apparently still persisted some abridged copies of it around the web. I guess posting it here is an attempt to preserve the original story. It has been revised now that spell-check exists, but the dark plot lives on, so ABs may want to look elsewhere. Back then, there were still paper medical charts and mercury thermometers, and “personal” grooming was uncommon (or at least not talked about). It was before chastity devices were widely available or affordable. It takes place just before the internet and cell phones revolutionized both communication and shopping for diapers. It was also before there were diaper companies that catered to the ABDL community. This story is about a company that would have been pioneers in the field, but not in a good way… Chapter 1 Doug Easton paused, as he often did, as he entered The Drugstore. Did he really want to do this? He was twenty-eight years old, and had a lot to lose if he was caught. After several years of working on Wall Street after college, he’d decided that he wanted to switch gears totally and get into a basic science graduate program, get his Ph.D. and teach or do research or something interesting and not so stressful. Doug had come to this mid-sized town on the eastern seaboard because it had such an excellent program. He’d taken the pre-reqs and gotten a job in the lab where he wanted to work as a grad student, as a way of networking his way into a position in the program. It was now October, and he’d worked for several months now. It looked very promising. He simply had to take the GRE’s on Saturday, a week from today, and do well enough not to embarrass himself, and the odds were that he would be accepted for the following year. He had a lot riding on getting in, since he’d sacrificed so much to get to this point. It would be horrible to screw it up now. But he’d shopped for diapers to satisfy his part-time fetish for so many years now, he knew he had little to fear. No one yet had bothered him or asked him to explain his purchases. He’d never run into anyone important. When he’d started buying disposable diapers in pharmacies several years ago, he’d always been sure to have a good story on hand in case the cashier got curious. He could never decide whether to use the one about having a sick grandparent or the riskier and more embarrassing one about having an intermittent medical problem. But he’d never had to use a story: no one had ever asked why he was buying the diapers. This always disappointed him in a way, as part of the fun of buying the diapers was the implied humiliating nature of the purchase. Later, as he got bolder, he would heighten his excitement by shopping for diapers or pads while wearing one, and he was careful to make it not so obvious that anyone would notice (he thought) but that if given a clue (e.g. shopping in the incontinence section) another shopper or a clerk might put the crinkly sound together with the bulge and the slight waddle. And still no one ever commented or even looked at him strangely, so he’d long since assumed that people were simply too self-absorbed and not observant enough. Some of the thrill of the purchase had departed for him; today he hadn’t even bothered with wearing a diaper. He put any nervousness he had aside and stepped further into the store. What he saw amazed him. The incontinence section was larger than any Doug had ever seen. Instead of being set off by itself in a little corner of the store, it was smack in the middle. As he cautiously approached it, he could see shelves of large, plump plastic bags awaiting him, and he felt that familiar excitement. The aisles were wide, and the intervening shelves fairly short, so as he entered the first aisle he was acutely aware of how visible he was. He was in plain view of the rest of the store, and felt a little more vulnerable than he liked. He looked around, though, and no one else seemed to be around, not even sales people. He wondered briefly how such a large store could stay in business. He should have given it more thought, as it turned out. He shook off his nerves, and went about his routine of cataloguing the store’s inventory in his head. In most stores this was easy-no more than two brands of diapers, and usually the same two everywhere. But here, the supply was vast, with many brands of which he had never even heard. He was disoriented, and, in the end, completely startled when his reverie was interrupted by a female voice behind him. “Can I help you?” He whirled around, and saw a lady in her late fifties with a kind-looking face and a helpful expression. “What?” he stammered. “I said, can I help you, young man?” she repeated. “Oh,” he said, too threatened to think clearly. “No. Thank you. I’m, uh, fine.” But she was persistent, to his surprise and dismay. “Is there anything I can help you find?” “No, no,” he said, trying to be nonchalant. “I’m just…looking around.” He only realized after he said it how ridiculous that sounded in an incontinence section. He blushed a bright red. But she smiled warmly, as if she’d heard this before. She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice, though the store was still empty. “Sir, there are only two reasons why anyone ever shops in this section. One, they are looking for a specific item, or two, they have a specific problem they need to solve… Okay? Now, you look a little embarrassed to be here and perhaps anxious to get out in a hurry. Am I right?” He nodded as if in a trance. This had never happened before, he was dazed, and he had no idea where this was all headed. She smiled in response and touched his arm. “All right, well, I can help you do either thing faster and more efficiently, so that you can leave sooner,” she said conspiratorially. “If you need to find a certain item, I can show you quickly where it is, so you can make your purchase and get out. Do you know exactly what you need?” He realized that she wanted the specific brand name of a product. He wasn’t sure, of course, what they had, or even what he wanted to walk out of here with. So he said, truthfully, “Not really.” She then smiled another smile, one that was intended to give him moral support for whatever problem she figured he’d just discovered he had. “In that case, I can be of even more help. I can show you what we have, tell you what the differences are, and we can decide together what product will best suit your needs.” She was walking toward a section labeled, “Adult Incontinence”. “Now, I don’t have to tell you how important a custom fit is when it comes to wetting: I know you want a product that will always keep you dry. I guess we both know that accidents are even more embarrassing than shopping for diapers. Am I right?” she asked, nodding sympathetically. He found himself nodding along with her, since that’s what she clearly wanted him to do, even as he wondered how she knew what accidents were like, and even though he had never had an “accident” that wasn’t on purpose. He was starting to feel many different and conflicting emotions: he was definitely curious how this encounter might turn out, but he was also petrified at the thought of admitting to anyone an interest in diapers. And under it all ran a strong current of sexual excitement and more than a little tinge of humiliation. But then, he reminded himself, that’s why he was here. He decided to go with the flow and see where the tide took him. It was a decision he would later regret. “So let me orient you to the different levels of protection we have. Then we can decide what level will be best for you and take it from there.” This idea produced some anxiety, but he had never acted on his fantasy like this, and all he could think about was how this would provide him excellent fantasy fodder for weeks to come. He tried to settle himself down and act calm. Turning, and indicating a smaller package, she said, “There are three levels, generally, of protection. Most people with your…problem…” and here he blushed again, “find that the first level, pads or guards like these, is all they need. It just tapes into your underpants, and you often can’t even notice it’s there.” He smiled to himself and wondered what good that would do him! “But it can protect you against the little accidents a lot of people have, but not if you wet heavily,” she explained. “Is this the sort of product you might need?” she asked, nodding again, and clearly expecting him to again nod back. And he was half tempted to say yes, because her references to his “little problem” were growing very embarrassing for him. But if he bailed out now, not only would he be wasting his money, but he wouldn’t be able to return in the future to this beautiful store for what he really wanted. This older lady was clearly the keeper of the diapers, and if he wanted to shop here, he’d obviously have to do it in her company. He looked away, frowned, and shook his head slightly in some shame. She was a little surprised, and was tempted to glance down at his shorts for evidence that he was wearing anything more substantial than pads. She knew what to look for, but hadn’t yet with him because she’d assumed, since he looked young and healthy, that his problem was minimal. And maybe it still was. So instead of examining him with her practiced eye, she just went on. This guy was very probably insecure, and didn’t need something bulkier. But perhaps by describing them to him, she could steer him away from wearing something that was too noticeable. “Well, of course. But the next level is a type of pull-up, like small children wear. Companies call them ‘underwear’ but they are really a type of pull-on diaper. These are usually not too bulky, and they’re quiet. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell you are wearing one. Mostly, I see elderly folks buying these, not young healthy men. “One of the downsides to using this type of product is that, if you are out and about and need a change because of an accident, you’d have to take off your shoes and pants to put a dry one on. But it can hold more than a pad.” She paused and looked at him, wanting him to get the point. “You see what I mean? It’s a big step up, and maybe more than you need. As I said, the vast majority of wetters just need a pad or guard. Want to try one of those?” He felt the weight of her pressure, but he was too close now. His mind whirled with what she might infer. “No, actually, could you go over the third level?” he nearly whispered to the floor. This time he saw her instinctively glance at his shorts, obviously looking for signs of a diaper under his clothes. But there was nothing. If he was incontinent enough to need a full diaper, why was he not wearing protection now? She allowed a concerned look to cross her face, and she wondered how this could be happening again, with another young man. Her tone now tinged with a little frustration, she said, “Well, the third level is the brief, or the adult diaper. And they are for invalids, mostly. They are taped on with refastenable tapes and worn just like a baby diaper.” As she said this, she realized how much she wanted this obviously functional man to buy something else. “They usually have a strip to tell people if you’re wet or dry, just like for babies, and the legs have elastic gathers to stop leaks. I’ll admit that they are the only product that offers total protection, either for heavy wetting or for bowel control problems. But as you can see, these ‘briefs’ are really reserved for someone who is completely diaper-dependent, and not for someone with...an apparently good quality of life.” She took a breath. She was wound up. She had to give this guy good advice. If he was a regular diaper-wearer, well, that would be different, but this healthy, currently-undiapered young man shouldn’t need big babyish protection. “You see, they are almost always visible under your clothing. Diaper-wearers are simply unable to conceal them well enough. Some people may deny it, but I’m here to tell you I can always spot 'em. Plus, you’d have to waddle a little with any of the diapers I’d sell you, and it is fairly obvious to a trained eye. And then there’s the give-away sound: nothing sounds like a diaper.” She paused again. Maybe she’d gone too far. Some people did need this protection, and it worked for them. But she did feel strongly about fitting the right product to the right customer. She composed herself, and went on, “So you see, you are looking for the least bulky product that will still do the job. Which will it be, so we can get you out of here?” He had endured the lesson with patience and a bit of excitement. Based on what this lady had said, maybe diapers WERE visible and audible to other people. Maybe he SHOULD have been more humiliated to wear them out. He’d have to think about that. But meanwhile, he had to end this. He glanced at her quickly and forced out the words he’d been destined to say. “I think I, uh, probably need to, um, get the briefs.” He stared very hard at the floor. She blinked. "Really? Are you sure? Most people either pick pads or guards. Briefs are the diapers, and you only wear them if you have bowel control problems or very bad bladder control problems. When he didn’t answer, she clarified, “I only ask because, if you really needed diapers, you wouldn’t just walk into a store without one on. I can see that you are not wearing a brief right now,” she explained with a pointed look toward his crotch that made him blush. He coughed. This was getting more and more embarrassing. “I really think I need the briefs.” There was a long pause as she tried to divine what was going through his mind. “Is this, um, problem a relatively recent one?” she asked. He nodded hesitantly. He didn’t know where she was leading, and was unsure of what his “story” should be. He was really in virgin territory at this point. It was pretty exciting. “So you haven’t tried a lot of these products, have you?” she said, thinking she was beginning to understand. He nodded again, deciding that could make sense. It would explain why he didn’t know what he wanted. “No, I thought not,” she said, smiling and with compassion. “A beginner. So let’s talk about your needs. Now,” she said, wanting to pin this boy’s problem down a little better, “what specific problem are we treating? Do you wet your pants?” Uh-oh, this was going to get detailed, he thought. Again he was torn: anxious about having a believable story, but enthralled with the idea of a stranger thinking he needed diapers. Unfortunately for Doug, there was no way he could know this was the last person he should try to convince. He just nodded, unable to meet her eyes. Okay, okay, she thought. Now they were getting somewhere. “Oh, that’s all right, sweetie. It’s common, and I sort of figured as much, for otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I can help you. When you have an accident, is it a lot of leakage, or just a little at a time?” Doug knew what the answer must be to get diapers. He swallowed. “A lot.” She nodded, taking it in. “And what about messy accidents? Do you have problems with your bowels?” The silence hung heavy as he considered. He wasn’t sure if he needed to confess to this, too, or not. Maybe the heavy wetting would be enough? But in the end, he didn’t want to take the chance. Holy cow, he thought, this was indeed humiliating. He dropped his eyes again and nodded. A grown man, admitting that he messed his pants. He felt all of two years old. And not surprisingly, there was a long silence afterward, as she tried to judge whether or not to believe him. That would certainly be serious if true. “Have you seen a doctor?” she asked with concern. “Yes,” he said, having to clear his throat first. He still couldn’t look at her. “He, um, said it would take a couple months until we, um, got it all worked out, so he sent me here.” “Oh,” she said, seeing this in a much different light. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” This boy did need some serious protection. “Hmmmm. Are you wearing anything at all right now under your pants?” He froze, realizing that his not wearing a diaper out now seemed sort of stupid. But best be honest, he thought: I bet this lady could tell. “Nothing right now,” he said, trying to think quickly. “Well, I had some, but then I ran out.” She clucked at him reprovingly. This boy either wasn’t too bright or was irresponsible. That was a setup for a bad outcome. This lad needed her help. It seemed to her this was happening more and more to her. Since they had expanded their incontinence section, more and more younger men were wandering into her shop, and they seemed to need a strong hand. But that was fine: she knew how to take care of them, and if she couldn’t, she knew someone who certainly could. This boy clearly needed some direction. “Okay, well, we’ll get you all squared away, but first things first. With a problem like yours, we’ll need to get you into something right now so you don’t have an accident while we’re deciding, or on your ride home.” She paused to check his reaction. He looked a little uncomfortable with her apparently taking charge, but he didn’t say anything. And since this was really not the time to discuss who should make the decisions (she didn’t want to deal with an accident here), she went right on, in a maternal tone: “Someone who wets and messes his pants needs to wear a diaper all the time. All the time,” she repeated with emphasis. “Otherwise, you could have an accident right now, which would be more embarrassing and harder to clean up than a wet or messy diaper. So we need to put one on right now, without arguing. If you’re a good boy and put a diaper on, then we can talk afterward and decide what you’d like to wear in the future.” She watched him closely for signs of resistance. He was looking more uncomfortable, shifting his weight nervously, but he was not objecting. She went on. “Luckily, I always keep a couple samples in the back, for emergencies like this. You can use the storeroom to change.” Without waiting for a reply, she smiled, took his hand, and led him quickly to a door marked “Employees Only.” He looked a little alarmed but was still being compliant. In fact, though, Doug wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his composure. This was so much more than he’d ever actually dreamed could happen that he didn’t know what to feel. Excited, of course, but frightened. Would she diaper him? Was there anyone else in the back room? What was he getting himself into? No, he thought, that’s ridiculous. This is just an odd business transaction by a grandmotherly lady who is being misled. It’s funny and thrilling, but hardly dangerous. As he would later find, this was completely false. Some might argue that he could at this point still have escaped what was to happen to him, but this is probably not true. Nor is it even relevant. He had no inkling that with every complacent step he was getting closer and closer to the fearful prospect of having his lifelong fantasy become a lifelong reality. He needn’t have worried about one thing, though. She wasn’t planning on diapering him. As she walked him down a back hall to a doorway marked “CLEAN SUPPLIES,” she said, “Now do you put your own diapers on at home? You do? Okay, well, why don’t you try to put the brief on yourself, then, and see how you do.” She opened the door with one of many keys she had dangling from a large keychain, and led the way into the room. It was partially full with many crates and boxes such as you’d expect in a drugstore. She walked over to a shelf with several plastic packages on it and rummaged through them until she found one marked, “BRIEF, LARGE-ADULT DIAPERS,” from which she pulled a large plastic disposable. She also picked up a container of baby powder and brought both over to him. As he tentatively accepted them, she said, “Now I’ll just wait outside while you put it on. I don’t know what you do at home, but I recommend lots of powder. It’s hot out, and you’ll appreciate it later. When you’re done, just open the door, and I’ll come in and check to make sure it’s on correctly. That’s very important, you know. So come get me before you pull your pants up, okay?” She stepped out and closed the door before he could even respond, leaving him alone with a diaper and powder in hand. Once again he questioned himself about whether he wasn’t already in too deep. But it almost doesn’t matter, he thought to himself. She probably won’t even let me out of here now without a diaper. Holy shit! I’m way too good at lying for my own good. He sighed, and was about to unbuckle his pants when there was a sharp knock on the door followed by the lady poking her head in, and seeing him still dressed and holding the diaper, said, “Are you okay? Need help?” He shook his head firmly. She frowned slightly, and said, “Okay, but hurry it up. We can’t waste time with you not in diapers. I’ll check back in another minute or two, and if you’re not done, I’ll give you a hand.” She shut the door again. So now, of course, he hurried. He definitely wasn’t psychologically prepared today to be diapered by someone else. This as all too sudden. He unfolded the diaper and set it down on the cold cement floor. He hadn’t ever been able to put a diaper on standing up. So he unbuckled his pants and pulled them down around his ankles, and, glancing needlessly around, did the same to his underpants. He sprinkled the diaper with powder and then gingerly sat down on it. He pulled the diaper up between his legs, and quickly taped it rather haphazardly. It wasn’t a good job, but he wanted to be dressed again by the time the lady came back. He stood up and pulled up his underpants and pants over the diaper. The diaper fit well, and it was fairly bulky, though he’d made thicker ones for himself on occasion using pads for stuffers. As he was rebuckling his pants, she burst through the door unannounced. She appraised the new bulk between his legs, then strode over to him, saying, cheerfully, “Whoa! Slow down, cowboy! Let’s just check the job you did before you buckle up.” She reached toward his pants with purpose, brushing aside his hands, which had moved protectively toward his groin in a meek attempt to intercede. Before he knew it, his pants and underpants were back down around his ankles, and she was crouched in front of him examining his poor handiwork. He felt the blood drain from his head and began to feel dizzy. He felt like he should object, but he felt weak and sort of lost. He couldn’t think of anything to say in a moment like this. So he stood there as she inspected his diaper. “Hmmmm,” she commented. “At least it is on straight, and not backwards, but the taping leaves a bit to be desired. Hold this,” she said brusquely, as she undid the tapes on one side. She tightened and adjusted both sides, afterward slipping her fingers well inside the leg gathers on both sides to check the fit. He couldn’t help squirming a little, and had to be told to stand still. Finally she was satisfied, and showed him what she had done so he could do it better the next time. She was about to pull his pants back up for him when she saw his underpants, white briefs, around his ankles. She laughed. “Well, you hardly need those on now, do you? Let’s get those off so they don’t get all stretched out over the diaper, okay?” And without waiting for a response, she untied his shoes, had him slip them off, and pulled the pants and underpants off, then replaced the pants and shoes, even tying them for him. This made him feel more like a little boy than he had in a long time. “You said your wetting and soiling problem is only temporary, right? Well, then, we’ll let you have these back for several months down the line.” Humiliated as he’d never been before, he took his underpants from her and balled them up in his hand. His shorts pockets were now too tight for him to tuck them in there. He’d have to carry them home in his hand. Could this get more embarrassing? She didn’t notice his distress, however, for she was nearly out the storeroom door. “Come on,” she called. “Time to get you something for later.” He tried to follow at her speed, but found that this was a fairly thick diaper. The bulk made him waddle slightly, but he didn’t think it was that noticeable. When she got to the door back to the main store, though, she turned and watched him as she waited. He was pretty cute, she thought. Actually, she thought they were all cute the way they had to waddle like babies. And to be honest, she had to admit that part of her liked babying them: she loved the diapers, the powder and lotions, the smells, the mothering. Of course, that was not why she did it, and it was not why she’d set up the ICPs with Mrs. Warren. But it was part of what made it enjoyable for her. Anyway, she knew he’d be self-conscious, so she tried not to smile at his obvious struggle to walk normally. He reached her in a moment, and as they returned to the store, he glanced around nervously to see if anyone was there to notice the newly-diapered boy waddle in with his old underpants in hand. There was only an older man clear at the other end of the store; he probably couldn’t see this far. But then he noticed a tall brunette in the corner back and to the right, near the pharmacy. She looked like she was in her forties, was beautiful, but also strongly built. And she appeared to be watching him very closely. He thought he saw the older lady he was with catching the tall lady’s eye for a moment, and maybe even nod at her. But he wasn’t sure if he made that up. He sure could be self-conscious when he wore a diaper! He took one last look at the lady before he turned down the diaper aisle, and noticed a curl of a smile at one end of her mouth, as if she were amused. Could she tell he was wearing a diaper? Kind of a thrilling thought. She was pretty. But his attention was quickly drawn to the shelf his guide was presenting to him. This was where he had longed to be from the moment he had walked in the store. He longed to be left alone here to read the packages and look at pictures. But she was here, and very much in control of his shopping. “Okay, this shouldn’t be hard,” she said. “The most important thing is, is cost very important to you?” He nodded with conviction. He was a student, living on a student’s budget. She nodded back thoughtfully. “Well, then I think we’ll try you with a package of those generics you’re wearing. I thought the fit was good. Are they comfortable?” He nodded stiffly. He wasn’t used to discussing his diaper comfort with others. “Good. They are good diapers, just as good as the name brands, in my opinion. Try those, and see how they do for you.” She picked out a huge package of the generics-again he noticed the label, “BRIEF, LARGE-ADULT DIAPERS” in large block lettering on the side. That would be fun to carry to his car and inside his apartment. He took it from her, and followed her up to the cash register at the front of the store. He set the package on the counter as she rang it up, setting his underpants next to it on the counter for a moment, while he pulled out his wallet, careful to hunt for and pay with cash so that he wouldn’t leave a paper trail. She watched him find the correct change from the little change compartment in his wallet. He gave her the money, and she handed him a receipt. Then she leaned over the counter and said to him in that condescending tone again, “I think this will get easier for you with time. Now, I think these diapers will help you with your problem, but you’ve got to wear them all the time for them to help. You hear me?” She looked at him sternly. “All the time. See how you like them, and when you only have a few left-BEFORE you run out, come back in and we’ll get you some more.” He nodded obediently. Just needed to get out of here now. “Yes, ma’am, I will.” She was staring at him intently now. “But don’t come back in here without a diaper on, or I’ll do more to your bottom in that back storeroom than just put it in a diaper. Okay?” He nodded to her, his eyes widening. Was she...threatening to spank him? He’d had way too much “fun” for one day. Time to agree and get home. “Okay. Thank you. Have a good day.” He grabbed his hard-won purchase and underpants and left the store, only noticing once he was outside that she hadn’t even offered him a bag. As he walked away, he let out a deep breath. That had to have been the most amazing fantasy ever. And he’d navigated his way through it perfectly, coming away unscathed, with a bag of diapers to boot! Pretty good, he thought, for his first time to that store. For his ONLY time, he thought to himself. He’d not go there again. It was just too anxiety-provoking. But he’d done it today, and now he was safe. He did feel sorry for the lady whom he had deceived so perfectly, however. But only briefly. As she watched him waddle away from her, out to his car and climb in, Mrs. Sheffield reflected on the odd number of totally incontinent young men she had as clients. She’d noticed a preponderance of men as soon as Mrs. Warren had convinced her to stock more of the briefs, and it seemed that, as they continued to expand their product offerings, more and more came in. Most were fairly resistant to her intrusion, but she didn’t care. She was actually a very nice, compassionate older lady who always felt sorry, first and foremost, for her clients. But her experiences with a “late-blooming” son years before had convinced her that incontinence was a problem that needed to be treated. Her son had had several fairly public accidents in elementary school that had led to other kids making fun of him. She hadn’t wanted to diaper him, thinking that would make things worse, but as he grew and the teasing continued well past the time when he never wet his pants anymore, she began to blame herself for his being socially ostracized. She’d vowed to herself, though she hadn’t seen the implications for her drugstore business at the time, that if she ever found an opportunity to step in and help an incontinent person again, she would. At any age, she thought, diapering was far more benign than even occasional accidents, and she had seen the damage firsthand and had to live with the guilt. These days, she made sure that no incontinent boy left her sight without a diaper on, even if they objected. “They just don’t know,” she whispered to herself, “what the alternative is. Owning up to their need for diapers is the best thing they could do for themselves.” It was this attitude that made Mrs. Sheffield run her business the way she did. And it was this attitude, she couldn’t know, which had doomed many young men to lives of unhappiness and even far worse social isolation than she could have anticipated. But, then, at least her intentions were good. It was actually Mrs. Warren who was much more to blame. She looked down at the name and address she had copied down quickly as this latest boy had opened his wallet to pay her for what he thought was the last purchase he would make from her. He was wrong, of course, though he wouldn’t know this for several days. Doug. Doug Easton. He’d seemed nice. She wrote a note for herself to make sure she followed up on him. Nice boy, but he needed her. Chapter 2 On Monday, about two days and four diapers later, Doug was watching TV before bed, undiapered. He’d just finished a day of reviewing for his test on Saturday. He was bright, and the studying wasn’t too hard, so it actually left him with a lot of free time compared to his usual lab schedule. This was why he’d gone out for a new supply of diapers for this week: he had plenty of time to play. And though he didn’t like to wear diapers constantly, he was enjoying wearing one or two a day. His stressful trip to that drugstore had turned out to be worth it, he thought now. He’d just put his books away for the rest of the evening when his phone rang. He answered it. “Is this Doug?” The woman’s voice was vaguely familiar, but Doug couldn’t place it. The other day’s incident at the drugstore was the last thing on his mind. “This is Mrs. Sheffield, from the drugstore? I helped you with your incontinence products several days ago, remember?” He nearly dropped the phone. His mind went blank and his fingers started tingling. Even though he was seated, he felt faint. “Uh, yes, ma’am, I remember.” His mind slowly started to crank out questions: how had she found him? Why could she be calling? “Well, it’s nice to talk to you again. I’m calling to find out how your briefs have been doing since Monday.” His mouth was dry, which made it difficult to speak. “Oh,” he croaked. “Just fine.” He was speaking on autopilot now, trying to figure out how he’d been so foolish as to leave his phone number with her. But he hadn’t! He was sure. How had she tracked him down? Mrs. Sheffield could hear the anxiety in his voice, and knew she’d have to calm him down if her approach was to work. “I hope you don’t mind me calling. Ordinarily I ask before I contact clients at home, but I forgot this time. All I want to do, though, is a little product survey, if you don’t mind. Your opinions regarding our products are very important to us, and will be used to modify our product lines and what we carry. So, I’m sorry for the intrusion but I just have a couple of questions, and the answers from you, in particular, will be very valuable.” A product survey? he thought. That sounded interesting, and didn’t seem very threatening. He relaxed, and as he did, he began touching his stiffening penis through his pajamas. This could be fun. After all, he was tucked away safely in the privacy of his own home, far away from this scary lady. And this conversation again had tremendous fantasy potential for him. In addition, maybe he really could influence what diapers were made or carried. That alone was worth a little effort. But why him? This bothered him, so he asked. “Well, actually,” she replied, “you are important because of the nature of the problem you have. You see, we don’t have too many totally incontinent clients out there who can talk and who are active.” She was not exactly being truthful, she knew, but it was excusable because she was trying to help him. She went on describing why surveys were important. He was only half listening by the end. He was too fascinated by the opportunity he had been given. He’d always felt that store-brand adult diapers were woefully inadequate in many ways that were important to a diaper lover: not bulky enough, not noisy enough, not absorbent enough, and pathetic at containing bowel movements. He knew that the majority of truly incontinent adult probably didn’t want or need these obtrusive, humiliating qualities in their diapers, but wouldn’t it be great if there was at least ONE brand that was closer to the ideal? This might be the one chance he had to help all of adult babyhood attain what most thought was unattainable. He had to give a plug for a humiliating, babyish diaper. But he couldn’t make it sound too ludicrous. His mind was working overtime trying to anticipate questions and phrase his answers with subtlety and skill. She was just finishing some comment: “So, do you think you could just answer a few questions for me?” “Of course I could,” he answered confidently, but not wanting to sound too eager. “I’d be glad to help if I can.” She heard the change in his voice and wondered briefly what it meant. She was mostly happy he was going to cooperate. She was sorry she had to mislead him here, but, after all, it was for his benefit, and they would indeed use the information he gave her! “Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said out loud. “Could you start by telling me how many diapers you use in a day?” Time to check compliance. Fine, he thought, a usage question. He expected that. But he had to guess, since he was certainly not a full-time user! He didn’t want to be; part-time fantasy was enough. “About six, I’d say.” These were generic store-brand diapers; they didn’t take more than two wettings. That sounded right, but any idiot could guess. She’d slip in a couple more compliance questions later. “Okay, and of those, how many are messy and not just wet?” That was probably easy to estimate. “Well, one or two, I suppose.” Still okay, but these were the easy questions. “Uh-huh, fine. Now, I’ve seen how these diapers fit: pretty well, I think, but how do they feel? Are they comfortable? Scratchy? Sticky even when fresh? Do they chaff?” He actually hadn’t had a complaint over the perhaps six hours he’d worn them over two days. “Oh, they’re very comfortable. No problems.” “That’s good to hear. Do you have anyone at home to help change you?” That would be great! he thought wistfully, though only halfheartedly. He didn’t really think he wanted diapers to become that central to his life. “No, I live alone,” he said out loud. Good, Mrs. Sheffield thought. That simplifies things considerably. “Okay, well, let’s talk about wetness. How absorbent do they seem? Do you have problems with leaking with very wet diapers?” She didn’t even notice she was using the “d” word. He didn’t either. He was too involved in the “survey.” "Oh, yes, all the time, " he replied honestly. “I have trouble with that with nearly every diaper. That’s a serious problem for me.” He was finding it difficult not to rub his hard penis. This was really turning him on. He had to keep it going. “Oh, dear,” she said. “That’s a shame. Of course, it probably comes from all your activity, compared to my older clients. How long after you wet do you change yourself into a dry diaper?” OK, now try to make this believable. “Well, I don’t like changing, and it’s often very inconvenient, so I try to make each diaper last as long as possible. So I guess I wait at least two hours after wetting before a change.” “Oh, my,” she exclaimed. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” “No, not at all,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “Until they’re VERY wet, I can’t tell they’re damp without looking. By the time I can feel it, I’ve usually leaked.” “Well, I’m not sure any other store brand would have more capacity…” she mused to herself. “Usually it’s adequate, but you are more active. The best option for you may be to add one or more pads inside the diaper, but we don’t like to do that because that makes the diaper even more bulky and noticeable than it already is.” Whoa! he thought. This was his big chance. He snorted derisively. “I’d rather have bulky than leaky.” “Really? But you don’t think they are already too bulky between your legs?” “No, not really,” he said, hoping she believed him. “I mean, I hardly even know they’re there. I don’t have to walk funny like you said. I’m sure I wouldn’t even notice another pad, or even two. But the best would obviously be a thicker diaper I don’t have to change very often.” He was lying now, and thoroughly enjoying it. This could be the perfect infantilist diaper! “Do you worry about other people noticing?” “Not really. I wear baggy clothes, and I don’t think anyone at all has noticed. I don’t see why they should.” This was excellent news for Mrs. Sheffield. Most potential clients were indeed worried about making sure their diapers were unobtrusive. He didn’t care. This should make his assimilation into the program easier. Doug noticed her pause and assumed she was having a little trouble believing that he wanted MORE bulk. He said a silent apology to all diaper-wearers who DIDN’T want people to notice, but he really hoped his cry for thicker, more babyish diapers was getting through. As if in answer, he heard her say, “OK, more bulky and absorbent so you don’t have to change as often and won’t leak. Now, are the diapers too noisy for you, or are they okay? Are you worried that people notice?” “Nah, they’re fine,” he answered gleefully. She was buying the whole thing. For a moment, though, a frightening thought flew through his mind. How truly terrifying and humiliating it would be to be stuck in diapers like the ones he was imagining. What if he were doomed to this fantasy he had always played out in his head and was now having fun pretending was real? To be locked, for instance, in huge, noisy, bulky diapers in public, to be noticed by everyone: it would suck to HAVE to wear what he was telling her he thought diapers should be. But that was what fantasy was all about, he told himself. Reality wasn’t relevant, he thought. “Well, that’s very enlightening,” Mrs. Sheffield was saying. “Most people are actually asking for less obtrusive, quieter diapers, but perhaps we should rethink creating a different line of products. if you don’t mind, let’s move on to messy diapers. Have you had any problems with leakage from messy diapers?” “I’ll say. Even worse than with the wet ones,” he said, fully within his fantasy and not feeling any embarrassment. “And, obviously, that’s a worse problem.” “Obviously,” she agreed. “And do you always wear messy diapers for two hours before changing?” “Not usually,” he answered, “but sometimes I can’t help it. Messy diapers are much more difficult to change, especially in public. I have to wait until I get home, and sometimes that takes a while.” “I see. So once again, your lifestyle conflicts with your diaper needs. Now, you do seem to be out and around a lot. Is this true? Are you out of your home most days?” “Well, usually, though this week I’m actually spending at home studying all day…” he started before he realized he’d crossed over into reality. He didn’t really want her to know anything about him. Was she probing? “So you ARE very active,” she said, and he relaxed. It had just been an innocent question, he thought incorrectly. “Well, the only suggestion I have is to wear some sort of incontinent plastic training panty over your diaper. Do you have any of those?” Surprised, he answered honestly. “Yes, two or three.” And then he remembered he was supposed to be new to this “incontinence.” How could he explain why he had plastic panties? “The, uh, doctor gave them to me to try, but I thought they were just for cloth diapers.” “In general they are, but in your case, it sounds like you could use the extra protection.” “Sounds like a good idea,” he said, not really caring. It didn’t matter what he did or didn’t promise to do. She asked several more questions he found less interesting, regarding tapes and other mundane aspects of the diapers. Finally, she asked him about the wetness indicator, another of her compliance questions. He said he liked it and that he used it often, since he wasn’t always aware of when he peed. “Hmmm,” she said. “We’re doing some research on how many little stripes an indicator should have. I’ve forgotten: how many stripes does your diaper’s indicator have? Could you look down at your diaper and tell me?” He felt a brief moment of panic. He, of course, was not wearing a diaper, and he couldn’t really remember. But he relaxed as he realized that if she’d forgotten, it didn’t matter what he said, as long as it was reasonable. “Um, it looks like one,” he said, guessing that was most common. “One? Okay, that’s exactly what I thought,” Mrs. Sheffield said with a definite air of satisfaction. Doug was happy he’d guessed right. In fact, he’d guessed wrong, and this mistake was the one Mrs. Sheffield had been looking for. It told her Doug wasn’t really wearing his diapers like he should and was therefore a definite compliance risk. That sealed it. She would definitely put him in the program. He clearly needed the little push that Mrs. Sheffield’s friend Mrs. Warren could give. Otherwise he risked having accidents. “Okay, Doug, just a few more questions. You’ve been extremely helpful. I think I know about all I need to know. But tell me, is cost an issue for you? Do you think the disposables on the market are too expensive?” What a great question. Did he EVER. He had trouble buying diapers even occasionally, and he shuddered to think what it must cost to keep someone in them full-time. On the other hand, he wasn’t really as turned on by the cloth diapers, so for him it was worth it. To her, he said, “Yes, ma’am, especially on a student’s budget.” Whoops. Another slight slip, mentioning something personal. But again, she seemed not to notice or care. “That’s what I thought. What if I offered you products that would cost a lot less? I’ve calculated your approximate cost as about $250 per month right now. What if I could offer you the same diapers for about $80 per month? Would you be interested?” That was great! He was excited, for his comments really seemed to be getting somewhere! He was striking a blow for infantilists everywhere! “Wow! Of course! That would be a lot better. But can you do that?” “Well, this is just hypothetical, of course, but, yes. Now, how many briefs do you have left?” He paused. How many SHOULD he have left? Quick arithmetic gave him his answer. “About five, I think.” “Uh-huh. So when can I expect you into the store to restock?” Whoa. Here’s where he got off the fantasy train. He couldn’t make a commitment, he knew, or this could escalate to something he couldn’t afford or keep up with. “Well, I don’t know…” “Sounds like you’d better get in here tomorrow, or you’ll be right where you were before, trying to get by with just your underpants and a prayer. Right?” “Well, uh, yes, but…” He tried to think of how to get out of this easily. She was making it tough. Mrs. Sheffield decided it was time to come clean and close the deal. She knew what she needed to know. “Doug, you had no plans to come in, did you?” “…Not really, no.” It felt better to tell the truth. And she seemed like that might be okay with her. “And you’re not wearing a diaper now, are you?” Yikes! She was sharper than he’d given her credit for. “Well, I, um…” He was shocked, but he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t wearing a diaper now. She might not use his survey information. He didn’t know it, but he had a more important issue he should have been worrying about. “That’s what I thought. By the way, when you do look at your diaper, you’ll notice two indicator stripes.” She took a deep breath. “Now, you need to listen to me. I may have told you that I was in the business of assessing and providing for my clients needs. Well, it goes a little bit beyond just helping them find a product on the shelf.” Doug didn’t like the sound of this at all. She was no longer surveying. And she didn’t know it was only a fantasy for him. “What I actually do is run a business for people like you who are incontinent. I help them find what they need, and make sure they use it, by organizing ICP’s, which stands for Incontinence Control Programs, for them. I have a lot of clients like you who don’t seem to be able to look after themselves like they should. I worry that they’ll end up having accidents, and then lots of things in your life can go wrong.” Doug’s stomach had started churning. He had started to realize that perhaps he’d sold his story too well. “I’ve decided that you need some help with your diapers. I think we’ll need to enroll you into our program so that you can get the help you need. I work with another woman, Mrs. Warren, who actually runs the day-to-day end of things, and we’ll help keep you supplied, keep you wearing the diapers, and keep you well-behaved. And it’s all for that price I was telling you about. What do you think?” Doug knew what he thought. He thought he’d better do some confessing, or he’d find himself in far deeper than he’d thought possible. He didn’t know that it was already way too late. His silence didn’t really slow her down. "Now, I know you weren’t expecting this, and I’m sorry to spring it on you, but in the end you’ll thank me, you really will. Let me explain for you why I think you need our help. "There are four parts to any successful ICP. First, affordable cost. Second, choosing the appropriate product for your personal wetting and soiling needs. Third, accessibility: you need to be getting your diapers. Fourth, compliance. All the diapers in the world won’t keep your pants clean and dry if you’re not wearing them. "You may not have noticed, but we just completed an assessment of the ICP you had prescribed for yourself. That is, your plan of buying the diapers yourself any old time and bringing them home and wearing them occasionally. “What I found out during my assessment is that this isn’t working, regarding each of the four parts. Too expensive, too leaky, you won’t come in to buy them, and once you do, you’re just not wearing them like a good boy.” He tried to say something, but she wasn’t really slowing down. She didn’t seem to care what he had to say. This was getting absurd. “Doug, you need to face the fact that you are totally incontinent. Probably, well, hopefully, temporarily. But you desperately need a much better and structured ICP for the foreseeable future, and so the bottom line is that I’ll be supplying it for you. Believe me, this is a very good thing for you. You’ll eventually appreciate the complete protection we can offer, and we’ll also lay the groundwork for your eventual attempt at re-potty-training, if that becomes a possibility.” Doug sat listening in shock. He didn’t know what to think or feel. A tiny bit of him was intrigued and turned on by what sounded like a forced return to babyhood, or at least to diapers. But most of him was horrified at the thought of his fantasy getting out of control and effectively running the rest of his life. It didn’t sound like he’d be in control, and he knew himself: he ALWAYS had to be in control. He couldn’t even begin to process her words, for they seemed impossible, foreign, crazy. But she went on. “So after considering your needs and problems with compliance, I’ve decided to enroll you in a special diaper delivery program we offer, where I can decide the best ICP for you, and all you have to do is follow some very simple rules. You’ll pay twenty dollars each week for us to deliver a week’s worth of diapers to you, as well as the extra pads we talked about, and you’ll wear them and use them. “Mrs. Warren will check on you and make sure you are following the rules and using your diapers appropriately, and she has some very helpful disciplinary tricks to help you be obedient, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate. Then you’ll return the used diapers at the end of the week for us to count and examine, so we know you used them all week. So you see, this program is much better with regard to cost, availability, leak protection, and especially behavior control. Doesn’t it sound wonderful?” Doug felt speechless, but knew he had to speak. “Mrs., uh, Sheffield? I really appreciate your concern, but, um, well, I don’t actually think I need your help here…” Mrs. Sheffield responded with a slightly condescending tone. “Oh, but we just talked about that and decided you did. Remember?” He remembered HER talking and deciding, but he’d been left out. “Yes, but I think there has been a terrible mistake here. You see…” She interrupted again. “Don’t you worry. There’s no mistake. I’m going to help you, and you will never have to wet your pants again. Doesn’t that sound nice?” “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t want your help here because…” “Doug,” Mrs. Sheffield said earnestly, "I’m sure you’re used to handling your problem on your own, but the fact is, you’re just not doing a very good job. I’m afraid you misunderstand what’s going on here. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really not asking you whether you’d like to participate. I’m TELLING you about the ICP that you will begin tomorrow. I’m sorry we couldn’t ask for your opinion, but by not wearing your diaper you showed me that you are not reliable enough to make these decisions for yourself. “And you’ll have to trust me here that this is not a bad thing. When you’re incontinent, there are only two things that could happen. You can either have accidents with wetting and soiling your pants, which is horrible. Or you can wear your diaper. And in this program, believe me, you will wear your diaper. Now, do you have any specific questions about your ICP that I can answer for you?” Doug was starting to panic, because she wasn’t listening to him. She was treating him like a child, which hadn’t happened to him for nearly twenty years. It was frustrating not to have control! But he had to stop this now. As embarrassing as it was, he couldn’t think of anything else but to tell her the truth. “Mrs. Sheffield, there really has been a mistake. You see, I’m actually not…” Her voice turned cold. “No, Doug, we’re not going to argue about this. This isn’t the time for that. I was asking you if you had any questions about your ICP.” “Yes, but I need to tell you that I don’t need…” “Okay, that’s enough,” said Mrs. Sheffield sternly. "If you don’t have any questions, I’ll just tell you what’s going to happen next. “Mrs. Warren will be taking over your care from now on, and she told me to tell you that she’ll be over tomorrow at about ten in the morning with your first week of diapers and other supplies. At that time she’ll explain all of the rules she has, and what you are to do, and she’ll get you into a diaper for good. “Now, you told me you’ll be home tomorrow, and that you don’t have any roommates, so I don’t expect any trouble from you about this. Ten in the morning. If you want to argue, argue with Mrs. Warren. She loves to `discuss’ things with clients, and I’m sure she’d be happy to talk with you about whether you need our diapers. So if you want to talk, save it until tomorrow. Does that sound alright?” Doug felt defeated with this woman. She wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Before, he’d been embarrassed when she’d asked him so many questions. Now she wouldn’t listen! But perhaps this other lady would. He had to have better luck with someone else. At least he’d have time to think about how he’d explain himself. “Okay,” he said. “But I’ll just tell you, I’m not doing this program thing.” “I’ll leave that for you and Mrs. Warren to work out. It’s been nice talking to you, Doug, and I’m happy to have you in our program, even though it may take a while for you to adjust to it. Oh, by the way, make sure you behave yourself with Mrs. Warren tomorrow. Of course, she’s very nice, but she doesn’t tolerate little boys who aren’t polite. Will you promise me to be polite?” What else was there to say? “Yes, ma’am.” “That’s a good boy. And promise me you’ll wear your diaper tonight?” Like hell. “Yes, ma’am.” “Okay, good. Take care until tomorrow, Doug, and please, for the sake of yourself and your underpants, wear your diaper.” As she hung up the phone, Mrs. Sheffield smiled. That had been done skillfully. She worried about cooperation with many of these boys, and so she’d adopted a strategy of getting as much info about them and their habits before breaking the news to them. None of them saw it coming, of course, and while she felt guilty deceiving them, she felt proud to offer them the protection her son never had. If she hadn’t been a very good mother to him, at least these incontinent boys would benefit from her learning. She did feel bad about one thing, though, and that was deferring Doug’s questions to Mrs. Warren, who wasn’t exactly the chatty type. She had an uneasy feeling that she was quite rough with these boys, especially the resistant or noncompliant ones. But the two women had an unspoken rule that Mrs. Warren’s methods were not talked about between them. Mrs. Sheffield thought maybe Mrs. Warren spanked them, but wasn’t sure. Mrs. Sheffield didn’t oppose spanking in principle, but she worried that her partner might go a little overboard. She had to keep reminding herself that keeping these boys in the program and in diapers as long as they were incontinent was the most important goal. And since Mrs. Warren had been running the ICPs, Mrs. Sheffield had not heard of a single problem, either from the boys or from Mrs. Warren. All of them clearly wore their diapers. So, as much as she might have worried, and probably should have worried, Mrs. Sheffield let the methods of Mrs. Warren remain a secret. As she added Doug’s name to the next day’s diaper delivery list, a curious observation popped into her mind. Like Doug, many of these boys described a “temporary” incontinence problem. She put most of them in their ICPs just to tide them over until they regained their control. Oddly, though, in the three years since she had hired Mrs. Warren to run her business, not a single one of these temporary incontinents had graduated from their program. “Oh, I know,” she lied to herself. “I bet they’re just not honest with themselves at the beginning. I’m sure they all would like to believe it’s temporary, but it makes sense that bladder and bowel incontinence doesn’t just go away. Those poor boys, denying their problem. Well, as long as they’re protected.” The boys, of course, were not the only ones practicing denial; Mrs. Sheffield had apparently learned how to convince herself there was nothing odd about the program she officially ran but knew nothing about. Mrs. Sheffield attended to the next order of business by picking up a phone and dialing the number of Mrs. Warren’s cellular phone. She wanted to make up for the fact that she’d set Doug up to take the full brunt of Mrs. Warren’s wrath tomorrow. He’d be full of excuses that she wouldn’t want to hear, and though she had thought at first that a little run-in with Mrs. Warren tomorrow might not hurt this boy a bit, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it would almost certainly hurt. Quite a bit, in a tender, likely undiapered spot. So a little intercession on her part was appropriate. She smiled when she heard Mrs. Warren answer immediately. Tomorrow would be an eventful day for Doug. Chapter 3 Doug hung up the phone slowly and just stared out into space, trying to process what had just happened. He had just been deceived and manipulated into a position from which he was now dangerously close to being out of control. In fifteen minutes he had gone from being safe and happy and insulated from this frightening woman to being fooled, humiliated, and violated by her. And supposedly thrown into some program for delinquent diaper-wearers, where he obviously did not belong. Imagine! He had misled this lady so effectively that she thought he really needed diapers! It would be laughable if it weren’t so annoying and if it didn’t seem to threaten his desire for privacy. He couldn’t even enjoy the fantasies generated by the phone call, because now he needed to think about how to get himself out of this without anyone finding out about this, and if possible, without any more embarrassment. Doug was pretty sure this adventure would end tomorrow, when he explained the reality of the situation to this Mrs. Warren. But he was most concerned about how he could end this without admitting he was just a diaper lover, which he knew was viewed by most people as perverted. If word of his kink spread, his application for the graduate program could be in jeopardy and his job at the lab ended. How could he end this discreetly? He’d have to be prepared, more prepared and alert than he’d just been during that conversation with Mrs. Sheffield. What an idiot he’d been. She’d played him masterfully, and he’d fed right into her little quizzes. Curious, he went to his stash of diapers and checked them. Sure enough, the ones he’d just bought had two stripes. Stupid. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. And, he chuckled, he nearly had walked straight into the nightmare he’d imagined of having given the description of the perfect adult baby diaper only to be sentenced to wear it constantly. That would really be miserable. But he would avoid that. No one would be sentencing him to anything. He was an adult, and he controlled his life. The anxiety he had about tomorrow morning didn’t stop him from getting that same thrill he always felt when he touched the plastic of a disposable diaper, but he packed it away in his bedroom closet as a symbolic gesture of his continued autonomy. She’d pushed him around pretty well over the phone, hadn’t she? Wait until that other lady got here tomorrow. She’d meet the real Doug. He tried to have a normal evening, but his anxiety continued, so he had a couple beers to calm himself down. He’d meant to figure out what he would say tomorrow to that diaper lady, but after the beer, he decided he could figure it out later… Doug awoke the next morning fully clothed on the sofa, and was disoriented by the sunlight streaming in the window and what sounded like loud banging on his front door. He next noticed a strong message from his bladder, distended from the beer from last night. As he struggled to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom, he tried to reconstruct what had happened to him. He was midway through relieving himself before he realized that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa and overslept. So who could be so rude as to be pounding on the door? “Oh my god!” he said out loud as he suddenly remembered Mrs. Warren. He jerked his hand up to look at his watch and only succeeded in peeing all over the bathroom floor, not to mention leaving a small spot on his jeans. But big deal: he finally got a good look at the time, and, sure enough, it was after 10am. He was now wide awake, and working hard to figure out what to say to this woman. He zipped and buckled his (now slightly wet) pants and went to the front window. He couldn’t see the door, or who was there, but he did catch a glimpse of a large van, colored in pastel pinks and blues, with the words “HOME DIAPER DELIVERY--Get 'em, Wet 'em, and Forget 'em.” He would have been embarrassed at his neighbors seeing this van, but he had more urgent concerns. He could always claim it had had the wrong address or something. But there could be no doubt who was banging on his front door. He briefly entertained the idea of not answering the door at all, but the banging was so insistent, he decided he had to confront this threat and get rid of it. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He was suddenly and rudely pushed aside, and a large woman strode past him toward his living room area. He was sort of surprised by her assertiveness, and it took him a minute to recover, close the door, and follow her in. Entering the living room, he saw that she had her back turned to him, apparently already talking on the phone! But even from the back, he recognized her from the drugstore; she was the strong-looking beautiful brunette who had watched him with such interest as he had waddled self-consciously out of the dressing room in the back of the store. Somehow he had known that it would be her. He wanted to apologize to her for keeping her waiting at the door, to show her how reasonable and sensible he really was, but here she was, already on the phone. She was obviously kind of rude, but he didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot, so he just stood there awkwardly and listened in to find out what was so urgent. What he heard surprised and worried him a little. “Yes, Mary, I KNOW I promised not to spank him today, but he’s practically been begging for it for the past twelve minutes.” Doug glanced at his watch. It was 10:12 now. Could they be talking about him?! “Well, no, obviously not. But let me tell you what he did. Deliberately kept me waiting outside for twelve minutes…Of course he was home…I’m SURE it was on purpose…Well, Mary, I just don’t put UP with that kind of behavior…I KNOW what he needs, and I can give it to him with an open palm…Yes…Yes, I know…Yeah, okay. Alright. But he just exhausted his grace period. No more warnings or excuses. Next time he so much as looks at me wrong, he goes over my knee. You know how I feel about disrespect…Okay, Mary…Okay. Bye.” Doug was now very anxious, as he watched her set the phone down. His face was burning with embarrassment, for he knew that as absurd as it sounded these women were discussing HIM. Whether HE, essentially a grown man, should get a spanking. He would have thought it comical if this lady hadn’t seemed so serious and capable. He wasn’t small, but because of her size, he’d have a hard time resisting her physically. He watched her now as she seemed to think for several seconds and then turned abruptly and brushed past him back toward the door without even acknowledging his presence. He stood there, uncertain how to handle this strange encounter with this lady. She helped him. As she reached the door, she turned and for the first time, spoke to him. “The very least you could do would be to help me carry in your diapers. Come on!” And she disappeared outside, leaving the door wide open. It was another second before he realized that he’d better start explaining fast, or within about two minutes she’d probably expect him to be wearing one of the infantile gifts she’d brought. He rushed out the door and out to the pink and blue diaper van. She was around back, opening the rear doors. As he reached her she was examining a clipboard and appearing to compare it to contents in the back of the truck. He looked inside and got distracted by her cargo. Her van was literally crammed full of packages of disposable and cloth diapers. In addition there were smaller packages of plastic and other (rubber?) panties, bottles of powder, oil, vaseline, lotion, and lots of other nondescript items he thought must be pads and soakers. There were also many items he could not identify: jugs of liquid, assorted clothing. Half of him wanted to go through it all and see what he liked, but the rational half of him realized he’d find out all too soon if he didn’t start talking now. “Um, Mrs. Warren?” he started hesitantly. When she didn’t answer or even look up, he just went on. “We REALLY need to talk.” She half snorted derisively in response but didn’t otherwise say anything. He realized he’d better just spit out the essentials. “There has been a huge, embarrassing mistake. You see, in real life, I don’t NEED to wear diapers at all. I’m totally continent. This is all a big mixup because, um, well…” He stalled out, summoning the courage to tell someone the truth for the first time ever. “I, um, sometimes like to, you know, wear diapers, just as a kind of fantasy. But it’s just a funny little thing, it has nothing to do with reality…” He was watching her face, which never changed expression. She just kept checking over her list. Finally, as he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, she smiled slightly, and though her eyes never left her clipboard, she murmured," “Well, your fantasy is about to become your reality, little boy.” That was NOT the response he expected. He started to panic a little. She wasn’t listening or didn’t get it. He grabbed her elbow frantically and said, “No, you don’t understand. I DO NOT need diapers. I am completely continent.” THAT moved her eyes to him, and the fierceness with which she glared at him, and then at his hand on her elbow, startled him. He let go of her elbow. Her eyes narrowed, and after a long pause, she said slowly and distinctly, “I think I just heard you ask for a continence test.” He just stared blankly at her. The words made no sense to him. “Is that true?” she demanded. “I…I don’t know,” he stammered. “What is it?” “Just what it sounds like. It’s how we find out who can and can’t control their bladder and bowels. Sounds like you’re claiming to be continent. I can’t accept that claim unless you can back it up by passing a continence test. That’s only fair, right?” He absorbed this slowly. “You mean you want proof?” She nodded, her eyes penetrating into his. “Better believe it. You wouldn’t believe the number of my clients who try to avoid wearing the diapers they so obviously need. This test is simply a reliable way of telling who does and who doesn’t need my…services. Now, I’m sure you would never try to mislead me,” she said rather sarcastically, “so you can just consider this test as a formality.” “Well, I don’t know. What would I have to do?” he asked, uncertain. “Oh, it’s easy,” she replied, “If you’re continent. Just keep your pants all clean and dry for three hours after you drink a glass of Gatorade.” That didn’t sound so bad. “That’s it?” “That’s it. But it’s not so easy if you’re at all incontinent. And judging by your pants, I don’t know how you’d do.” He followed her gaze down to the spot on his crotch from the bathroom. He blushed heavily, cursing himself for his poor timing. Nice way to make an impression, he thought. “Oh, that’s nothing, just an accident.” She smiled. “They all are.” She went on: “But if you want to try to stay dry for three hours, that’s fine. I’ll give you an excellent chance to prove to me that you don’t need to wear diapers. Otherwise, you can help me carry in your things now.” She pointed to a pile of disposable diapers stacked near the door of the van. He stared at them, wishing he could have them and use them on his own terms, at his convenience. It was tragic to be confronted by this opportunity and not use it. But he couldn’t. This situation was way too threatening. “I guess I’ll do the test.” There didn’t seem to be much of a choice. She wanted proof. He could certainly provide that, and three hours seemed like a worthwhile time investment if he could nip this whole diaper debacle in the bud. “What do I have to do again?” She smiled. This would be fun. “As I mentioned, it’s very easy. You drink a glass of Gatorade and sit in the bathtub for three hours.” “The bathtub?” Didn’t sound too comfortable. “Yep. It’s easier to clean up puddles and messes that way. Along those lines, I’d suggest wearing older clothes. That should be fine,” she said, indicating the jeans and old tennis shoes he was wearing from last night. Mrs. Warren retrieved a large, clear container of what looked like lemonade from the rear of the van, then slammed shut the doors. She walked around the vehicle to the front end, and returned from the passenger side with a small sack of heavy black cloth. “Oh, yes,” she said, smiling at him, “I ought to tell you, just so you won’t be shocked when we get upstairs. I hadn’t planned on this activity today, so I’ve got a lot of other stops to make. I won’t be there to watch you during your test, and I need some way to secure you there in the tub so I know you didn’t cheat. That’s the reason for these.” And she held up the bag for him to see the contents. He peered in curiously and saw several well-worn leather straps and cuffs in a tangled bunch. A chill ran down his spine. “You mean you expect me to let you tie me up?” That didn’t seem wise at all. She was a stranger, and a weird one at that. He’d heard stories about people who got themselves into S&M situations and never gotten out. “No offense, but I don’t know you at all! Why should I trust you?” His imagination started working as he remembered how she wanted to spank him earlier, and his anxiety level jumped a notch. Sure, he’d fantasized about spankings. Maybe someday he’d try it, but now, with an angry stranger, was definitely not that time. Plus, there was a lot on the line here. But she shook her head. “Don’t worry. I won’t physically harm you. I know I could, but the purpose is just to make sure you don’t use the toilet if I’m not there.” She pulled out a piece of paper that looked like a legal document. “Here, look. This is a binding promise I’ll sign stating that I will not physically abuse you while you’re tied up. It will protect your rights, and you can hide it somewhere for use later if necessary. Or complain to the store. You’re protected in a number of ways.” This “promise” was a scam she’d only recently started, and it seemed to work well. She had to be careful of the promises she made, but of course most of it was true. She wouldn’t actively harm the boy, but she would use the situation that developed to her advantage. Anyway, the form was bogus. It just looked good, and most people didn’t know the difference. It was simply useful to reassure her brand new clients that they would be safe. And they would: in several hours, they’d be safely in a nice, clean diaper. She had other ruses to use if this didn’t work, but this boy seemed relieved when he saw the “document,” so she didn’t go any further. He was sadly naive, this one. That made it easier, but no less fun. Mrs. Warren made a big show of signing the document, giving it to him, and telling him to hide it somewhere safe. Then she told him to go upstairs and sit on the edge of the bathtub and wait for her. She saw him swallow hard, nod, and turn to go inside. She smiled again. He would be easy. When Doug went back inside and slowly climbed the stairs that led up to his bedroom and bathroom, he was still more than a little uneasy about putting himself in Mrs. Warren’s hands so completely. On the other hand, he couldn’t figure out how she could take advantage of him. I mean, I have the contract, he thought. And the test is so straightforward. A better test would be to sit in the tub for SIX hours, he thought. Three hours is almost too easy. I guess she could try to cheat by just not coming back until tonight or something, but in that case I simply wouldn’t agree to join the program. This sets me up for getting something if I win, with no chance to lose. Three hours, he thought. I could do that with a GALLON of Gatorade. And she admitted that anyone who was continent wouldn’t have a problem. Well, he figured, I’m as close to being perfectly continent as anyone. I haven’t had an accident since I was three or four. Never wet the bed. In fact, I’ve always wondered why I was turned on by diapers; I don’t even recall ever having been in them…oh, well, whatever. After today, in any case, I don’t know that I’ll ever go out and buy or wear them any more. Too risky. Doug hid the contract away under his mattress, for lack of a better place. Then he went into his bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. His bladder and bowels were feeling great and totally empty. His only worry was whether Mrs. Warren would keep her promise and leave him alone after he passed this “test.” But so far she’d seemed rational; surely she’d admit she was wrong after he proved himself to her. Overall, he was starting to feel very confident: things had looked bleak several minutes before with all that spanking talk, but now it looked like this would just be a three-hour delay in an apparently normal day. After about two minutes, he heard some noise down in the kitchen, and another minute or two later Mrs. Warren joined him in the bathroom. She had her bag of restraints and what he saw was the largest glass from his cupboard, filled with what looked to him like Gatorade. She cheerfully instructed him to sit down in the tub, facing away from the drain. He found this slightly uncomfortable because he couldn’t lean back without pressing the hard faucet into his back. She told him not to worry, that she’d take care of that. In the meantime, she put a leather cuff on each wrist and then one on the shower head above him. These were all locked with small padlocks. She then attached a small, long chain to one cuff, ran it up through the cuff on the shower head, and attached it to the cuff on the other hand. This brought his hands up to about a foot above his head. He found he could bring his hands down to about the level of his neck, but no further. Warren also took a short cord and ran it from a belt loop on the back of his jeans to the faucet behind him. He really couldn’t move his body or his arms at all. The arrangement was simple and effective. She must have done this often, he realized. She disappeared for a second, returning with a small pillow to tuck behind his back so he wouldn’t be so uncomfortable leaning back for three hours. Finally she brought out a little clock, which she set on the toilet seat in plain view. “This is so you’ll be able to see how you’re doing. In a moment, I’ll have you drink the glass over there, and then you’ll have exactly three hours to sit here alone. At the end of three hours, I’ll come back and see if you’re wet or messy. If it’s not obvious, we’ll pull down your pants and check your underpants carefully. “I just checked your dresser, and it looks like all your underpants are white. Is that what you’re wearing?” He blinked. She’d been in his dresser? He suddenly felt more vulnerable. But she was talking again. “Good. ANY signs of wetness, or ANY brownish stains on your underpants, and you fail this test. Is that clear?” He felt like a little boy again, being told his underpants would be checked for brownish stains, but he had to admit it was a reasonable demand for a continence test. “And if you fail, I don’t want to hear any excuses or arguments about wearing diapers, okay? By taking this test, you implicitly agree to participate willingly in your ICP afterward if we prove your incontinence. Right?” Again he nodded. Whatever. As if it mattered what happened if he lost. “And I agree that if your underpants come out clean and dry, that I’ll get back in my van, and I won’t bother you ever again. Agreed?” He nodded happily. Three hours until freedom. He didn’t think he’d miss her. Spank him indeed! Ha! Diapers? Please. She retrieved the full glass from the sink and asked if he was ready. When he nodded, she held the glass to his lips. He had to drink it down a little quicker than he would have liked, as she kept tipping it toward him a little too much for his comfort. It wasn’t bad tasting: not quite like Gatorade, maybe thicker and saltier, or something. But it was probably one of the other sports drinks he hadn’t tried. When he had finished the last drops, he looked up to see Mrs. Warren smiling an odd little smile, as if there was a joke he wasn’t getting. The joke’s on you, he thought. I’m not really incontinent. She wiped his lips in a maternal way, and said, “Okay, now, three hours exactly. I’ve got some deliveries to make in the meantime, but I’ll be here promptly to check on you.” She turned to go, then turned back suddenly. “I almost forgot,” she said, fishing out a small black object that looked like a little radio. “I don’t think it’s safe to have you here tied up alone, so this is a little microphone transmitter that I receive in my van. I’ll just set it here, on the toilet seat, and if there’s an emergency, just a yell will bring me back here in a hurry. Okay?” He nodded, impressed. She was prepared. Good thing he wouldn’t need to argue with her in the future! Luckily, all he had to do was play along briefly here, and he’d get this woman out of his life. She said goodbye, smiled that odd smile again, and left the bathroom. He heard her slam the door downstairs, start the van, and then heard its engine fade away. As Mrs. Warren drove away, she thought about the boy she’d just left in his bathtub, and almost felt a little sorry for him. He looked so earnest about the whole situation, so confident about staying dry, so hopeful about not wearing diapers. If only he knew the reality. She’d seen it before, of course, dozens of times by now, with dozens of boys. Most were, like this guy, essentially continent, she knew. Or at least they were when she first met them. And most had accidently stumbled into her little web, from which they could not extract themselves. All had similar stories, interestingly, of liking to PRETEND to need diapers, or having sick relatives, or some similar garbage. Mrs. Sheffield, the dear lady, caught one every few weeks. And though the woman might be nice, with the best of intentions, she was too dense to realize that these boys were not ACTUALLY incontinent and did not really need her help. But she thought they did, so she referred them to her, Linda Warren, former nurse and current queen of the diaper boys. The ironic thing was that as kind and dense as Mrs. Sheffield was, Mrs. Warren was just the opposite: insightful but self-serving. She knew damn well these boys didn’t “need” her, but she needed them, so they were in her program. She needed them mostly for financial reasons, as this partnership with Mrs. Sheffield was her only income. The more boys she had, the more she was paid. And the longer they stayed in her program, the less work they demanded, so the more boys she could keep, so the more money she made… And she was good, both at enlisting her boys and at keeping them. Now, after about three years, she had all the bugs worked out, so that once a boy was referred to her, he was pretty much hers for as long as she wanted. She could handle almost every curve thrown to her, and by now, had seen almost every variation. Her income was good, and, since the boys never left the program, her job security was excellent as well. She now concentrated on the art of her craft, and now enjoyed simply seeing how the game would be played. This boy, for example, was being resistant, and understandably so, she thought. He was probably no more incontinent than she was. But she had all the cards (or would have them soon) and his decision to try to prove his continence doomed him to what she knew would be a miserable day and a certain long-term relationship with her. For no one, she knew, had ever had a full glass of her “diaper juice” and had lasted more than two hours. Most lasted less than one. Even when she tested it on herself, she had been on a toilet within ninety minutes, and had stayed there for nearly three hours. It had taken her several weeks to find the appropriate doses of diuretic and laxative that would work quickly yet be able to be passed off as a normal drink. Using and mixing a therapeutic dose of furosemide wasn’t a problem, but it had taken some experimentation before she found a suitable solvent for the double-strength mag citrate and polyethylene glycol she used. It made her shudder to think about that: these were the fastest and most powerful laxatives known, and even a quarter of what she used would probably be enough. But she didn’t take chances. She wanted each and every boy that came her way. And so far, she had a perfect record. This boy had no idea what he was in for. He believed it was Gatorade, and was soon going to get an unpleasant surprise. Then the rest of the game would fall into place. Sometime later she heard the first curses come in over the receiver, and since she didn’t really have any errands to run, she pulled the van over to do some paperwork and to listen, for this first “accident” for her little boys was always sort of poignant for her. She leaned back and enjoyed the growing sounds of Doug’s distress. During the first few minutes, Doug tried to get a little more comfortable. His hands being tied above his head was innately uncomfortable, and he faced an unenviable choice between trying to hold his arms up on his own, which, he found, led to muscle cramps within five minutes, or letting his hands stay limp, which rested his arm muscles a little but chaffed at his wrists and cut off his circulation. In addition, his arms being elevated put added weight on the bony part of the pelvis on which he was sitting, making this extremely uncomfortable against the unforgiving porcelain of the tub. He tried to shift his weight, but his jeans were tied to the faucet behind him, and this prevented him from moving enough to get really comfortable. The pillow in his back also wasn’t doing a good enough job on his back; it was starting to ache already. This test would certainly challenge his endurance, he thought, though not in the way Mrs. Warren anticipated. He was trying to distract himself by thinking of other things when, scarcely 25 minutes into his three hour incarceration, he felt his bladder twinge a little, indicating its apparent fullness. This mostly just disappointed him, because he knew it would be a while before he could relieve himself, and that meant two and a half hours of relative discomfort on top of what he was already feeling in his arms, rear end, and back. But he’d held out for far longer than that in the past on longer car trips, so he wasn’t worried about it. Since he hadn’t had a lot to drink this morning, it shouldn’t get any worse. Ten minutes later, though, it did get worse. He started to feel a lot of pressure, and tried to move again in an effort to make it less evident. But of course, he still couldn’t move. Doug smiled, feeling chagrined. It looked like it WOULD in fact be a little test to endure this kind of bladder discomfort for another two and a half hours. He tried to figure out why he was having so much trouble, and could only point to a combination of the beer he had had last night and the Gatorade this morning. Weird. Oh, well. He’d just have to put up with it. But fifteen minutes later found Doug about ready to burst. He swore and groaned, confused about how the beer from last night could still be affecting him. He had to concentrate now not to relax his bladder’s sphincter, which would be a disaster of epic proportion. He thought about how ironic it was that it was turning out to be so difficult to stay dry. This was certainly worse than any bladder fullness he’d ever experienced, and it was quite a shame it had to happen today. As he hit one hour into his test, Doug was wondering how he’d find the strength to last the whole three hours. Suddenly he heard his abdomen gurgle. As he gritted his teeth against the tide of urine inside him, he attributed the grumbling to his lack of food today. Oh, well, he thought, too bad: his hunger would have to wait. Then he heard and felt more gurgles, which was followed by the abrupt onset of cramps. It took his breath away, and he fought to hold his bladder and withstand the pain at the same time. This wasn’t hunger. The pain subsided, but the gurgling continued and became nearly constant, and within two minutes, Doug was surprised by an overwhelming sensation of fullness in his rectum. It begged for immediate release, but Doug quickly clamped down with all his strength, and his sphincter survived the initial onslaught. He was, however, shocked at the abruptness of the urge, and at its strength, and as he tightened his bottom and bladder muscles as much as he could, he wondered what the hell was going on. He must be sick. Why did it have to happen now? His bowel cramps went away for a moment but were soon back with a vengeance. He felt severe abdominal pain and heard the gurgling continue, and battled the strong urge he had to relieve himself. He was now sure he was sick with something, and as he attempted to resist the beckoning call of nature, he started to get a foreboding feeling that it wouldn’t be possible to last another hour and forty-five minutes of this torture. Doug considered the options he had. He thought about appealing to the little black box sitting on the toilet in front of him. Surely he wasn’t supposed to be sick for this test: that wasn’t fair. Maybe Mrs. Warren would come back and let him out, and they could do this all over again some other time. But then he thought, how would he convince her he was really sick? As far as she knew, this impending inability to stay clean and dry might be typical for him, and this just represented an attempt to get out of wearing the diapers that she thought he needed. Anyway, she didn’t seem like the kind of lady who would bargain with him or entertain excuses. So he reluctantly had to dismiss that option. He was sweating now. He groaned again and again as he applied all the energy he could to maintain his continence. He had two other options, one of which was unthinkable. Either he could try to hold out, or he could give in to the strongest urges he had ever experienced. As difficult as it would be, he HAD to try to hold on, because he couldn’t imagine her coming back to find him wet and messy in this tub. The humiliation would be too great, not to mention the consequences… And then it happened. It was at one hour, thirty-five minutes in. He was tiring of fighting, and the cramps had gone away briefly, so he had relaxed slightly, only to feel what he thought may have been a little squirt escape from his bottom and soak into his underpants. He wasn’t sure, though. For that to have happened would simply be impossible, and the consequences too dire. It must have been a mistake. Just to check, he shifted weight to see if his underpants felt wet or squishy. As he did so, he felt another little squirt escape his anal sphincter, and then his underpants felt undeniably wet. When he first felt that sensation, he caught his breath. In fact, his whole sense of time slowed down. His world froze as he focused all his attention on confirming the damp sensation between his legs. He didn’t want to believe it. But even as he hoped he hadn’t done what he thought he’d done, he felt more effluent emerging from his tortured bottom. He resumed breathing, this time more quickly, in a panic. This couldn’t be happening. It was unthinkable. And yet his underpants were certainly wet, and now felt a little full as well. And then, in another moment, the smell from his actions caught up with his nose as well. No doubt, now. For the first time since he was about three or four, he’d accidentally soiled his pants. Not much, of course, but he could surmise the consequences of even the slightest accident. Surely his underpants were clearly stained, and Mrs. Warren would see, and say he was incontinent, and then… For the first time, he began to ponder what failing this test might mean. And he had to face the fact that he had failed it. Even now, as he continued to struggle against his bowels and bladder, it was over. It wasn’t fair, of course, for this wasn’t a representative three hours for him. He was sick, or still hung over, or something. It wasn’t fair, and he ought to get another chance. But he bet he knew what Mrs. Warren would say. He’d taken his shot, and had somehow blown it. Somehow he had failed his “continence test.” He repeated this inside his head as he groaned with the continuing pain. He couldn’t believe it. He glanced at the clock, which showed that he still had another 80 minutes left. Now his choice of what to do seemed less clear. Why, if he had already failed the test, should he be tortured with this pain and discomfort for the rest of the time? Trying to limit the damage did nothing for his situation. And perhaps, he thought in the desperate musings of a man in severe pain, if he gave in and relieved himself fully, she would come back and see that it wasn’t just a little leak, that he was in fact ill. Maybe that was his only chance. Only another minute passed before he decided to spend the next hour and a half in relative comfort. It certainly wouldn’t take much to make him feel better, just a little relaxation, and then she’d see it was all a mistake… He lifted himself up on one hip and relaxed his sphincter a little, only to be truly shocked at the force with which his bowels exploded. With nowhere to go, his watery bowel movement shot down his pants legs and up his back. It felt so good not to hold it any more that he started pushing when the flow slowed down. He pushed as hard as he could, and was gratified by how much better his bowels felt. When that discomfort had subsided, it made the pain from his bladder seem even worse, and he took a minute to think about whether there was any point to trying to fight that urge as well. After all, his poop was so watery, it had soaked his pants anyway: what could peeing hurt? She’d probably never know about that, for most would go down the drain or evaporate. So he relaxed his bladder as well, and a wonderful feeling of relief came over him. Unfortunately, somehow the way his penis happened to be positioned turned the onslaught of urine not down his crotch, but up into his lap, which had been the only dry spot remaining on his jeans. He looked down and realized there was no way he could pass off the dark stain in his lap as anything other than having wet himself. He lowered himself back down to the tub surface and felt a warm squish envelope his bottom, crotch, and most of each leg. What a mess. It didn’t feel particularly bad immediately, but over the next few minutes, as his mess cooled off, he realized that he wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as he’d thought. In fact, he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t worse now. He wiggled his legs helplessly. He wanted to change now. He’d traded one discomfort for another, and the bad part was, this discomfort would be way more embarrassing when Mrs. Warren returned. It felt horrible, it clearly looked bad, and it was beginning to stink, too. But he’d done it, and now, he told himself, he had to sit in it. What was worse was that every few minutes he’d discover the need to expel more effluent into his pants. At this point, he didn’t even think about it, though. He couldn’t really make things worse. So every five minutes or so he eased himself up and pushed more poop and pee out into his wet, brown, full underpants. And in between his repeated soilings and wettings he had plenty of time to consider how embarrassed he’d be when Mrs. Warren came back and saw him in this state. Before, when he had done it on purpose, no one ever saw him. How humiliating to have had any accident, but especially one of this magnitude! And as he sat there in his wet mess he became more sure that she’d never let him try again. She’d been right all along, she’d think: he clearly needed diapers. And as he grunted and relieved himself once more, he wondered briefly if she was right. As the time dragged on, Doug became more uncomfortable than he could ever remember being. His arms burned, his hands were numb, his back was stiff, and his bottom and legs were cold, wet, and squishy. This isn’t at all the way he thought things would turn out. He watched as his clock crept toward the three hour mark, indicating that his test was over, and at the exact instant it read three hours, he heard a key turn a lock in his front door downstairs. Chapter 4 Damn, he thought, she’s good. He listened to the sounds of Mrs. Warren climbing the stairs, whistling to herself. He saw her enter the bathroom with her clipboard in her hand. “Whew!” she commented. “Smells like there’s a little boy who has some stinky pants that need changing.” He lowered his eyes in silence. Words couldn’t describe how humiliated he felt as he sat tied up in his bathtub with very messy and wet pants. She made it worse by laughing when she looked closer at him. “Well, I hope you don’t mind my pronouncing judgment BEFORE we look at your underpants, but I think it’s quite safe to say you didn’t exactly pass this test.” She chuckled again. “I mean, I’ve seen other little boys fail, but not with so much enthusiasm.” She leaned over to inspect him. “You certainly did quite a number on those pants, and it’s probably a blessing that you won’t be needing to wash those underpants. I’d suggest tossing those out. I don’t even WANT to know what color they are now. Deal?” she asked cheerfully as she packed her timer and monitor into her little black bag. He couldn’t speak. He was simply mortified. That this could happen at all, that anyone would see him, that she would make fun of him. It was all so terrible. She sat on the toilet lid to talk to him, then saw his expression and knew his feelings. “Oh, don’t worry, little boy,” she said, reaching over to stroke his hair maternally. “As I said, I’ve had lots of boys fail my test. You weren’t the first. “And likewise, you won’t be the first to wear diapers for me, either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal at all, if you just accept it. Life goes on, even if you have an accident, and even if you’re wearing diapers.” “But…” Doug tried to speak for the first time. “But I really don’t NEED to wear diapers,” he insisted, nearly in tears. “I’m NOT incontinent.” “Uh, huh, of course you aren’t,” Mrs. Warren said with a patronizing lilt. “But your pants might want to argue with you. Maybe we don’t understand what incontinent means?” she suggested gently. “No,” he said acidly. “I know exactly what it means. I’m just saying that I had horrible luck today. I’m sick, I think, and I had a lot of beer last night. I…I never have accidents normally,” he sputtered with exasperation. “No, you’re not sick,” she replied. “Part of it was the diaper juice.” “What?” “The diaper juice,” she repeated. This was always tricky. “It wasn’t Gatorade you drank, though it is very similar. It had a touch of a mild laxative in it,” she lied. Giving a hint of the truth often helped her credibility. But she found it best to keep him doubting his ability to stay clean and dry. He’ll be easier to manage in the short run if he wonders whether he actually needs the diapers. “I like to call it diaper juice because it helps me decide who needs diapers. You see, it doesn’t make everyone soil their pants, just those with some underlying incontinence. If your sphincters are a little weak anyway, this stuff will tip you over the edge, and you’ll have an accident. Or two,” she added, noting the wetness in his pants as well. “My company has spent a lot of time testing this drink, and we’ve found that the vast majority of people are a little ‘challenged' by the test, but that they stay clean and dry with no real problems. Only those we know by other tests to be incontinent had a soiling problem. It turns out to be quite a valid test," she concluded. She had phrased that well. He ought to believe that story. "Of course, that doesn't really explain why you wet your pants as well. The diaper juice doesn't have anything in it to cause that. You did that on your own," she lied. As Doug heard this, Mrs. Warren's words made his head spin. So, it had been a laxative, but he should have been able to hold it. But he didn't, so was he really incontinent? And he had peed in his pants, too, so that juice wasn't entirely to blame. He didn't know what to think. He had to admit, it sounded like he had legitimately failed this test. But...but he simply wasn't incontinent. He mumbled this again, since it was his only line of defense. "That's simply denial," she responded easily. "And I don't blame you for using denial as a defense mechanism. Bladder and bowel control are some of our most elemental skills. It's embarrassing and a little scary when we discover somehow that we have lost it to some degree, even if it's just temporary. “I know that you are scared and embarrassed. Now, I can't tell you why you are incontinent, only a doctor can. And Mrs. Sheffield says you've been to see a doctor already about it, so I'll take your word for it, and we don't need to address the reasons WHY you're incontinent. Our job is to deal with it." Doug cursed himself for having mentioned a doctor in his made-up story about needing diapers last Saturday. But he never thought it would be used against him. She went on. "But whether you choose to accept it or not, or whether you were aware of it or not, today we have proven that you have a problem with incontinence." He still felt dizzy. She sounded so reasonable. "But if I AM incontinent, I should have known about it. Right?" he asked, almost to himself. "And I'm sure you did, on some level, but you chose to ignore it, or not to believe it. Perhaps we can find some other earlier clues. Think back,” she urged. “I bet you can remember wetting your bed, or having daytime accidents when you were very little. Right?" He nodded. He could. But couldn't everyone? "Studies we have done have shown that our incontinent clients have specific memories like that more often than people with good control. “And this makes sense. If you can remember such incidents, you were probably older than most people by the time you gained control, and late bloomers often have trouble throughout life with bladder and bowel control." This was a fabrication she had practiced many times, and it usually had the desired effect. It did here. She could see that it had made him think. Time to hit him with more lies. "Here's another clue. Another subtle sign of an underlying incontinence problem is if after you pee (and I mean intentionally, in the toilet) you ever have a little problem dribbling into your underpants once you're finished. Normal men don't have this problem, but all of my other little boys do, and it's another pretty sensitive sign." Of course, Mrs. Warren chuckled to herself, how could this boy know that was a lie? Most men didn't examine other men in public restrooms. And indeed, Doug looked shocked. He had thought that a little dribbling was normal. Mrs. Warren smiled. Time to hit him with the big one. "Finally, psychologists tell us that we sometimes deeply desire things we know we need but which we can't admit we need, out of embarrassment or fear. These desires appear in different ways, but one way incontinent people manifest the desire for additional bladder protection is a sexual attraction to diapers. “You mentioned something earlier about this, so I'll bet that's the case with you, and I bet that from an early age you've had a fetish for diapers. It may seem perverted to you, or embarrassing, so you probably haven't told a lot of people. But the fact is that this is your unconscious telling you that you have a serious problem, and that if you aren't going to fix it consciously, your unconscious will help you fix it automatically.” Mrs. Warren let him think about this for a moment. “It's true, isn't it? You've secretly worn diapers before, haven't you?" She was looking at him with such a knowing expression. Doug nodded slowly as she nodded with him. Yes, of course he'd worn diapers. Was this why he liked them? Mrs. Warren smiled. That was one thing she could count on. All of these poor boys wanted to know why they liked diapers, and they tended to believe any credible reason you gave them. "You see, you've always had this problem, and you've always wanted help, but have been too afraid or embarrassed to get it,” she gently told him. “Not anymore. From now on, you'll get the help you need, Doug. And to make it easier on your ego, I'm not going to give you a choice. Sometimes we can't admit what we need, but we still need it. You may not be able to tell me you need to wear diapers, but you have all the symptoms of incontinence, and we proved today that you have a problem. "Now, it would be nice if you could admit you have a problem, so that we can work together to fix it. Working together is so much nicer than struggling with each other, and my experience is that it helps you more to admit your problem and cooperate with me.” Doug remained silent as he considered his future. It was too much to take in. Mrs. Warren sat up, suddenly more businesslike. “But I must tell you that it is hardly necessary for you to help me. It's far more pleasant for you if you cooperate, but one way or another you'll be wearing your diapers like a good little boy." She reached into her black bag, drew out a camera, and before Doug could object, she took several pictures of him as he sat in his obviously wet and messy pants in the tub. "What are you doing?" he cried. Evidence of his experience today was the last thing he wanted. He thought of his job, his grad program application. "Now just relax," she cooed, replacing her camera. "These pictures won't find their way anywhere important if you behave yourself. They are more like an insurance policy for me. As I said, I'm not going to give you the option of not participating in this program. I know your tendency is to avoid the issue of your incontinence, but I'm very serious about forcing you to confront it, or at the very least, to control it. The pictures will just help me make sure you'll stay in my program." That was bad news indeed. This woman was arming herself with more and more weapons, Doug saw. How could he avoid this catastrophe? "Okay," Mrs. Warren said, noting that the pictures had the desired effect. She would take more pictures later, and they would be her trump card for this fellow. "The next order of business is signing a contract for your personal incontinence control program, or ICP. After we do that, we can get you a little more comfortable." With that, she showed him her clipboard, which had on it an official-looking document with a space to sign his name. Doug got a sudden feeling of panic. He couldn't sign. This was it, the last nail in his coffin. If he signed this, he'd never be able to get out of this program thing. So he shook his head. "I'm not signing," he said defiantly. Mrs. Warren took the clipboard back and shook her head. "Your choice," she clucked. "You don't have to sign now." Doug was relieved. Maybe there was some way out of this. "But I will tell you that you don't move from that tub until I have your John Hancock on this page. As long as you're comfortable, you don't have to sign. You want to sit for a while?" Doug grimaced. He couldn't bear sitting here any more. But... When he didn't answer immediately, Mrs. Warren stood. "Fine," she said. "I'll check back in a little while, after I've prepared your apartment. If you're not ready to sign by then, I can leave you until tomorrow morning. I've certainly got plenty of time, you won't starve before then, and you don't exactly need special bathroom facilities. And if you get thirsty, I've always got some Gatorade you could have." He heard her chuckling as she went downstairs. When he was alone he lifted himself up a little and relieved himself once more into his pants. He had had cramps throughout that conversation but had held on until she left. That would have been way too embarrassing. Now what? She had him by the balls, he knew. She had blackmail material, and he couldn't sit here forever. He was so stiff and sore and generally uncomfortable that even a dry diaper sounded like a dream to him. This lady was too good, and right now she had him right where she wanted him. He had to sign the paper. There was no way around it. He dejectedly accepted this over the next few moments. More disturbing was the thought she had planted in his head about actually being incontinent. It didn't sound possible, but she made it sound obvious. And if it was true, did he have any business objecting to this ICP thing? But his bladder and bowel control was fine, he thought. He’d never had an accident. He'd never needed diapers before. And yet, why did he always want them? His head spun with the implications, and he was getting far too hungry and uncomfortable to sort it all out. He'd be best off if he signed the damn paper, got out of this tub, and got her out of his house. Then he could think about it all he needed to, and devise some way to get out of this whole mess. He couldn't think of any ways now, but there had to be some escape. He listened to the sounds of the house while he waited for her to return. He heard the front door open and close several times, and Mrs. Warren made several trips up and down the stairs as well. He heard bags ripping, and the downstairs toilet flush. He had no idea what was going on. And honestly, he didn't care. His mind was set on getting out of here. So when Mrs. Warren finally reappeared in the bathroom and asked if he was interested in joined her ICP, Doug nodded vigorously. "Good," she said, and held out her clipboard for Doug to read. But Doug had no interest in reading the contract. It didn't matter what it said: he had to sign it, and with any luck he wouldn't have to honor it. It was immaterial what it said. "I'll sign it. It doesn't matter. Just give me the pen, and let me out of here," he said irritably. Mrs. Warren smiled, and found a pen in her purse. She'd had a couple of boys like this. She certainly didn't care whether they read the contract. For her it served as one of her backup weapons, in the unlikely event that her right to punish her boys as she saw fit was ever questioned. But in her three years at this job, through many hundreds of spankings and other punishments, she'd never had a boy seriously question her authority. Not after he understood about the pictures, and had thought through what making a formal complaint would mean. She knew that the police would have a hard time believing the story, and would likely end up harassing her client more than they would her. The newspapers, Mrs. Warren knew, would love to get a story like this one, and if they did, her career would be over, certainly, but so would the lives of her clients. Imagine an adult male allowing himself to be diapered and spanked repeatedly, allowing himself to be tied in his bathtub until he soiled his pants, allowing himself to be photographed in that state, even going shopping for diapers in the first place. Her clients had all considered the possibility, she was sure, and once they saw the absurdity of their case, and realized the implications of pressing charges, they swallowed their pride and behaved themselves like good little boys. The contract was so that in the event that she enrolled a stupid or crazy client into her program (someone who *couldn't* comprehend how damaging "coming out" would be to their lives), she could protect herself legally when he made the insane choice to sue. And it was another tool for her to use in coercing her boys: "Yes, I think you WILL bend yourself over my knee. I've got a signed agreement which I could have enforced by law if I wanted. Would you like the police to help me spank you?" It was as vain a threat, of course, as her boys' threats to sue, for none of them, including Mrs. Warren, really wanted that much attention focused on their activities. But perhaps her boys didn't know that. At any rate, she simply smiled as she held the clipboard and pen so that Doug, in his bound state, could sign, which he did without so much as glancing over the page. "I knew you'd be a good boy eventually," Mrs. Warren said sweetly. "You will want to read that, perhaps after I've left. I will also leave a more detailed summary of the rules of the program with you so you can start learning, and obeying, them tonight. I advise you to read through it carefully, as you will be held accountable for all the numerous rules of your ICP, and I will start punishing you even tonight if you break any of them." Doug wasn't really listening. Just nod at her, he thought to himself. Pretend like you care, and then she'll leave, and you can figure out how to get out of this mess. "Now, I just need to go over a couple of things with you before we get you cleaned up and into a nice, fresh diaper. I've had a look around your apartment, so I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I always like to confirm them with new clients. You work in the grad school's lab in preparation for applying for their program next year. Is that right?" Doug, as distracted as he was, was still shocked. This lady had been through his private things! He felt even more violated and vulnerable. What business was it of hers? Was there any limit to her intrusiveness? Mrs. Warren *was* actually sure of her facts, and went through this presentation simply to scare her young charges. She wanted them to think that she knew everything and couldn't be fooled. The reality, actually, wasn't that much different. She took Doug's expression of disbelief as evidence that she was having the desired effect. "And you grocery shop every Sunday at The Grocery Place?’” Doug could only nod dumbly, wondering how she could possibly know so much about him. In fact, Mrs. Warren always marveled at how much could be learned about a person who kept receipts, as Doug did. She went on to `check’ with him about where he banked, rented videos, dry-cleaned. He simply nodded at each revelation, accepting this as evidence of how thorough she was and how difficult getting out of this situation would be. He would have argued with her about her right to rifle through his apartment, but as he was still tightly bound, this wasn’t really the time. This, of course, was all information she needed in order to keep track of Doug during his initial probation period. She would require him to let her know where he was at all times when he left the house, and she was adept at arranging for surrogate “babysitters” to keep eyes on him all over town. She didn’t need to ask about his pharmacy, since he would now be shopping exclusively at The Drugstore, her employer. And when she had gone over everything, she did finally release him. She undid his cuffs and removed the rope to the back belt loop of his jeans. Doug lowered his arms and just spent a moment savoring the feeling of blood in his hands again. Then he stood, and felt some not-quite-dry effluent slide down his pants leg and drop out onto the bathtub floor. Mrs. Warren made him remove his pants in the tub while she watched. Doug didn’t care. He assumed she wanted to watch in order to embarrass him some more, but he was past being embarrassed today. So he was caught off guard when he glanced up after pulling his filthy jeans off and saw a flash go off. Mrs. Warren was recording this moment with a small automatic camera, and had captured him as he stood in his brown-stained underpants with semisolid brown goo caked on his legs, and with his soaked jeans at his feet. He cared a little more about this, but not enough. It was done. He just wanted to shower. She kept watching and got several more pictures as he peeled off his disgusting underpants, soaked socks, and his relatively clean shirt. She had him put his underpants in one small clear plastic baggy, and all the rest of his clothes into another larger one. She told him the larger bag would be available to him if he wanted to wash the contents later. He would not, however, see his abused underpants again. He was told he wouldn’t need to. Then she observed his shower, and handed him a towel with which to dry himself. He felt much better, but still felt dazed as he followed Mrs. Warren into his bedroom, where he looked around as he stood there naked. He saw two large bags of disposable diapers and several other containers of what he took to be the stuffer pads. On his dresser were neatly stacked the contents of yet another bag of disposables, with shorter stacks of the stuffer pads next to them. His underwear drawer was slightly open, and he could see that it no longer contained his underwear, but was stuffed full of plastic panties. On his queen-sized bed was spread a large changing sheet, and a diaper and pad were already laid out on it, with lotion, vaseline, oil, and powder standing by and ready for his use. While he was still absorbing the transformation his room had undergone, Mrs. Warren instructed him to climb up on the changing pad and put on the diaper. “I’ll just watch to make sure you do a good job. We don’t want leaks.” As he walked to the bed, his hands attempting to hide his genitalia, he felt his face turn red. This was obviously more embarrassing than with Mrs. Sheffield in the store, not only because he was being watched, but because the observer had seen him wet and soil himself, and knew he needed to be in the diaper. He knew that he didn’t, or at least he thought he didn’t. And putting this diaper on felt to him an awful lot like giving up, which his pride made it difficult to do. But his practical side started talking, too: Look, it said. You’re not giving up. You’re actually tricking her by making her THINK you’re giving in. In fact you’re just trying to get her to leave, so that you can think clearly enough to figure a way out of this mess. You’ll win this game later, but to make it work, you’ve got to make her think you’re a “good little boy” by gritting your teeth and putting on this diaper. So Doug slowly walked over to the bed and gingerly crawled up onto the changing pad, next to the open diaper. He looked doubtfully at the arrangement of powders and lotions next to him. “It’s up to you,” Mrs. Warren said, reading his mind. “You have to care for your own skin. These are just possibilities. The only thing I require is that you use powder. Because I like the smell. You’ll appreciate it, too, once you get a little more experience with dirty diapers. So pile that on, but feel free to experiment with the rest of the stuff here.” Doug didn’t want to use anything at all, but he obediently picked up the powder and sprinkled some on the open diaper, then set the bottle down next to it. Mrs. Warren shook her head. “Nice try. Keep going with the powder. I want you to put it on yourself AND in the diaper, and I’ll tell you when to stop.” Doug crinkled up his nose, but he obeyed. He shook out a lot of powder into his crotch, and onto his thighs, then onto the diaper. She made him rub it in, and add several more handfuls to his bottom and stomach. When he was covered in powder, and nearly choking from the sweet perfume, she told him to put the diaper on. He carefully slid it under himself. She showed him how to center it and then fasten it lying down, so it fit best. He stood up carefully and noted with dismay how bulky the diaper felt now. Mrs. Sheffield had been right: this was way too much diaper for him. He could hardly bring his legs together, and there was no doubt that it would show clearly under any of the clothes he presently owned. This could be very bad. He’d never be able to hide it. But he was chagrined to recognize that he only had himself and his libido to blame. Mrs. Warren, however, seemed pleased. She stuck fingers into his waist and legs, testing the fit, and patted him on the rump, pronouncing him well-diapered. “I knew you could do it yourself. You know, Mrs. Sheffield thinks you’re something of an imbecile, or at least a little slow. She thought you’d need a lot of help.” She winked at him. “But I know better. So I’m going to be watching you very carefully.” Doug got a chill down his spine. She was on to him. “Now, come downstairs and see what I’ve got for you.” Mrs. Warren led him downstairs wearing only his diaper. In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator door, revealing a gallon jug of what looked like milk. She pulled it out and poured him a large glass. “The diaper juice from before is very mild, but it is very long-lasting. It would ordinarily keep you rather…runny, for several days. So I want you to drink some special milk I have made to help slow your bowels down and to replace your electrolytes. The quicker you drink this milk, and the more of it you drink, the quicker your diarrhea will stop. So if the diarrhea gets worse, you need to drink more milk to fight it. Okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. If you can manage to drink this whole gallon by tomorrow, that ought to do the trick, and tomorrow you’ll get back to normal. Some people, I should warn you, though, do take a little longer to readjust.” She set the glass in front of him. “Go ahead and drink this first glass now so I can make sure you at least get started.” Doug nodded wearily, and drank it quickly down. He was disappointed that the diarrhea would last a while, and he was willing to try anything that would help. If it would help, he’d try to drink the whole gallon before dinner. It didn’t taste quite like milk; it was chalkier and slightly bitter. But since he had never had Milk of Magnesia, he didn’t recognize the taste, and assumed it was the extra medicine and electrolytes that made it taste funny. In fact, this additional concoction of Mrs. Warren was designed to keep him very loose, out of control, and essentially diaper-dependent for at least the next few days. It would help get him started on the right track, and it amused her to think of Doug drinking this stuff to get rid of the very diarrhea it was causing. The more he drank, the worse it would be, and the more he’d drink. She’d check on him to make sure he didn’t really get dehydrated, and the game would stop after he was securely in the program and ran out of “milk.” After he’d drained the glass, Mrs. Warren handed Doug a copy of the contract he’d signed, and a longer list of rules he’d be expected to follow. Doug thought that perhaps he’d read them tonight or tomorrow, just to satisfy his curiosity, but he told himself that it didn’t really matter. Mrs. Warren then gave him his last minute instructions. “I’d advise you to use the rest of the day to explore your apartment and notice the changes I’ve made. Also, it would be wise to pore over those rules, because I’ll be checking on you often. I’ll definitely be back tomorrow, and I’ll probably be back overnight. I had keys to your apartment made, so I can check on you while you’re sleeping.” Doug looked a little shocked. “Oh, it’s perfectly standard. You told me I could do this in your contract. Read it, and read the rules. You have some homework to do before I see you tomorrow.” She winked at him as she was gathering her things to leave. “Promise me you’ll be a good little boy for me.” “Okay,” Doug said unconvincingly. “Now be nice. I see we’ll have to work on your manners. I’m trying to be kind, so you won’t get too many spankings right here at the beginning. But my kindness, you’ll find, only goes so far. So promise me you’ll be good.” Doug swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am. I promise.” She patted his diapered bottom. “Yes, Doug. I’m sure you’ll be a very good boy for me.” Then she left, and Doug waddled upstairs to his room, carrying his rules and contract with him. He collapsed on his bed, exhausted from the physical ordeal and from mental fatigue. He had a lot to think about, but it would have to wait. Linda Warren speed-dialed Mrs. Sheffield’s number on the van’s cellular telephone as she turned out of Doug’s apartment complex. “No, of course not, Mary. No problems at all. He came around just like all of the others have,” she told Mrs. Sheffield. “I hope you weren’t too hard on him, Linda. He seems like a nice boy who just needed a little gentle guidance.” Mrs. Warren chuckled. “Well, that’s just what I gave him. But I’m sure you really don’t want the details, do you?” “Oh, no, no, of course not,” Mrs. Sheffield said hurriedly. “I care more about the fact that they get involved in our program. It’s such a horrible thing to be incontinent and to have those accidents. I just want to make sure they are protected from that sort of thing, you know.” “Yes, I know,” Mrs. Warren said. She’d heard this hundreds of times. Mrs. Sheffield was so unlike her. So caring and nurturing, but also so naive. She thought that she was providing these boys with a critical service which they dearly needed. It would devastate her to find out that these boys were really perfectly normal, and that Mrs. Warren (with Mrs. Sheffield’s unknowing help) had forced them into an essentially permanent infantile lifestyle. It would also shock her, Mrs. Warren thought, how little Mrs. Warren cared about the harm they were doing to these boys. Mrs. Sheffield was in it to help her “clients.” Mrs. Warren just wanted to make money, and doing it with an artistic, sadistic flair was simply icing on her financial cake. “The bottom line is that Doug Easton is now safely tucked away in diapers, and before too long, he won’t even think about not wearing one,” she told her innocent comrade. “And by the way,” she continued. “I know he told you that his `problem’ is temporary, but I have a practiced eye, as you know, and I think I can safely say that he’s going to need our help for a long, long time.” “Oh, dear, I was afraid you’d say that, Linda,” Mrs. Sheffield said sympathetically. “What IS it about our boys? We haven’t had a single one make it to the retraining phase. It saddens me to think that there are that many people walking around out there without any control.” Mrs. Warren smiled. This lady was too much. How long would she go before she started suspecting the fact that they weren’t helping anybody? “Yes, I know,” she said out loud, trying to sound sympathetic. “And how many more are too scared to come in and let us help them? “There are tons of these folks out there. I told you that this was a useful service for people. The problem of incontinence, especially among young people, is a hidden epidemic. We have a new client every two or three weeks, and the rate hasn’t slowed down. I think there are more out there than even we suspect.” “I know you’re right about that,” came the trusting reply. “We must have about forty boys now, right? I guess I’ll just have to keep my eyes open in the store, and try not to let any of them slip through my fingers.” “Yes, that’s right. Don’t let any of them get away,” Mrs. Warren said, perhaps a little too greedily. “I mean, it would be tragic to have them continue with their problems.” “Indeed. I’ll never forgive myself for what my son went through. At least I can make up for that with these boys.” After they hung up, she thought back to when she had been a nurse, working long hours, for what she considered low pay. She had always wanted to go into business for herself, but had never hit upon quite the right idea. It had been pure luck when one day, while paying for some cold medicine in The Drugstore, she had observed the young man in front of her in line purchasing some adult diapers from Mrs. Sheffield. Mrs. Sheffield, apparently out of curiosity, had asked the guy what they were for, and the man had blushed tremendously and murmured that they were for him, for some periodic medical problem. Mrs. Sheffield had pressed him about the details, which had seemed odd to Mrs. Warren until she later found out about Mrs. Sheffield’s son. This young man was being grilled about how he managed his “problem” and whether he wore the diapers all the time. Mrs. Warren watched with interest as the boy grew confused and murmured something about wearing them only when he needed to. By this time he had received his change, and almost ran out of the store with his new purchase. Mrs. Sheffield had confided in Mrs. Warren that she had several young, apparently healthy customers about whom she worried, and this is when she related the story about her son. At the time, Mrs. Warren had thought the whole thing interesting, but an inappropriate topic to be discussing with strangers like herself. She had paid for her medicine and gone straight home. She didn’t think about it until the next day, when she was watching a talk show, and there were some young men in diapers being interviewed about adult baby fantasies. Mrs. Warren immediately realized why that young man had been in the store the day before, since she knew from her nursing job that there were few “temporary medical problems” that would periodically confine young healthy men to diapers. This fetish business made much more sense. One of the interviewees mentioned a fantasy he’d had about being forced to wear diapers, and soon a plan began to brew in Mrs. Warren’s head. All the pieces were already essentially in place. Mrs. Sheffield, the drugstore lady, who had capital but no way to “help” her diaper-wearing clients. The clients, who wanted to wear diapers but wanted, above all, anonymity. All they needed was the middle-man, or middle-person in this case. She could make the necessary deliveries. And what if her clients were too shy? Well, didn’t they often share a fantasy of being forced to wear them? She could do that: blackmail, she was sure, was a powerful tool, one that would not only keep them purchasing her services, but would protect her from the law. These boys would be petrified of people finding out. They were just waiting for her to run their lives. Mrs. Sheffield had been ecstatic, buying a van, hiring helpers to inspect diapers and assure proper use, and essentially leaving the oversight of the boys to her. Linda Warren had quit her nursing job, and devoted herself to running her new business. She had to make it look professional and well-intended to Mrs. Sheffield, so she conceived of ICP’s and retraining plans, typing up rules and contracts, never intending any of her clients to graduate from her program. And they didn’t. Her program was wildly successful, by her standards, anyway. She had been amazed at the numbers of infantilists who were drawn in by her lure, which was essentially an extra-large adult diaper section. It drew these guys in by the boatload, whereupon Mrs. Sheffield somehow got their names and Mrs. Warren forced them into paying her to enslave them. And nobody ever quit. Eventually the time and energy demanded by a client decreased, so that she could focus on the new ones, who took a lot of attention. But her client list, her nursery of baby boys, just kept growing and growing, and so her commission did as well. Now she had a profitable career built around infantilizing young men against their wills, and the beauty of it was that it was fun, looked legal, and was in no danger of ending. She had the perfect job. Occasionally she felt a twinge of guilt about what she did to these guys. For example, Doug Easton had never asked specifically for this to happen. But he WAS made vulnerable by his unfortunate little fetish, and Mrs. Warren often rationalized it by quoting Darwin’s natural selection theory. She was strong, they were weak. It was none of their faults, she thought, but that was the way it was. And anyway, they LIKED diapers, didn’t they? Sure, maybe not like this, but she imagined that they didn’t get many of their other fantasies fulfilled, and beggars can’t be choosers. The only thing she really felt bad about was the one element of her “ICP” farce which was also pure genius, the aspect that essentially doomed these boys to stay with her forever. It was the rule forbidding masturbation, which must just about kill these boys, she thought. That really is cruel, to supply a fetish and then punish the excitement it breeds. Yet it really extended the program. Eventually these guys got used to wearing the diapers, bowed to her desires, and stopped fighting. But she hadn’t had one yet who could go more than a month without satisfying himself sexually. And then she could punish him and extend his probation indefinitely. Prohibiting sex was the one thing that made their ICPs permanent. It was the master stroke, so to speak, and therefore could not be eliminated, despite its cruelty. Anyway, she wasn’t totally heartless: she didn’t make them all wear chastity belts all the time. They DID get their little releases, but for that they paid a price, with their rear ends, and with their probation extensions. She smiled. It was the perfect business. She just wished she could tell somebody. Chapter 5 No sooner had Doug flopped down on his bed than he fell asleep, exhausted from his ordeal. He awoke several hours later, during the early evening, and it was dark. Doug was disoriented. For the moment, he had forgotten what had happened earlier. His first sensation was a strong urge to release his bowels. He stood up in the darkness, and was surprised when he heard the crinkling of a disposable diaper. He wouldn’t have expected this, since he didn’t usually wear his diaper to bed (it excited him too much to allow sleep), but he was pleased, since he could just use the diaper to relieve himself. Drowsily, he relaxed his rectal sphincter and allowed what turned out to be a gush of fluid into his diaper. Somehow the diaper accepted the whole load without leaking, and, more comfortable, Doug sat down on the side of his bed to try to figure out what time it was. The clock said 7:30pm. That didn’t quite make sense. He felt the warm squish of his messy diaper, and smiled. He loved that feeling. But why WAS he wearing this diaper? What had happened before his nap? Then, with dawning horror, he remembered. “Oh, God.” Could it all have been true? That had just been a couple of hours ago. No wonder he was wearing the diaper. But now that he’d remembered, he felt totally uncomfortable. There was something about the memory of his humiliation earlier, and the embarrassment of having been forced to wear this diaper, that now made him want to take it off immediately. He waddled into the bathroom and carefully removed the messy diaper, taking care not to drop any of the mess on the floor. Then he stepped into the shower to rinse himself off. He had no sooner finished drying himself off, however, when he once again felt an urgent call of nature. Would this diarrhea never stop? he asked himself. He headed over to the toilet to relieve himself in a method more appropriate to his age, but saw for the first time that there was something wrong with it. There wasn’t any water in it at all, or more accurately, there was water, but just a little bit, and it was colored blue. He tried to flush it: nothing happened. It was apparently turned off. Well, he knew how to fix that, he thought, as he gingerly bent over to adjust the water supply on the pipes under the tank. He had to be careful as he squatted, because the release of his bowels was imminent, and crouching was obviously sort of dangerous with this kind of diarrhea. When he squatted to look, however, he found that there was some sort of locking contraption attached to the pipes. He couldn’t turn on the water! Now he was in trouble. He refused to mess his pants twice in one day. He ran downstairs in a kind of panic to check on the other toilet, but it, too, was drained, with blue dye, and was rigged up the same way underneath. Now what could he do? He didn’t have much time, certainly not enough to figure out this locking thing and fix the toilets. What other options did he have? He didn’t want to get dressed and knock on his neighbor’s door just to use his toilet; that was embarrassing, and also might take too long. He couldn’t really imagine relieving himself in the tub or the sink; it was bad enough he washed himself off in there. He didn’t want it to turn into a toilet, especially for this kind of excrement. He had no choice, he knew. Not for now, not for tonight. He dashed back upstairs and, swallowing his pride, picked up the top diaper from the pile on his dresser. He quickly grabbed a pad and took them both over to his bed, where he spread out the changing pad, laid out the diaper and pad, and taped himself securely in. Still sitting on his changing pad, he eagerly released his bowels, fully soiling his diaper for the second time in ten minutes. Wow, he thought. That diaper juice has some half-life. Then he remembered the milk Mrs. Warren had made for him to help. If ever he needed some help, it was tonight, with his toilets locked up. He gingerly got up, and when he saw that his full, messy diaper didn’t leak, he waddled downstairs to the kitchen. He poured himself a large glass of the “milk,” and drank it quickly down; then, thinking it would help, poured yet another and drank that, too. That should help, he thought. Despite how Mrs. Warren had manipulated him earlier, getting him to submit to being tied up, making him wet and soil his pants, making him sign that contract thing, he still didn’t suspect any further trickery. He certainly never suspected that this milk was, by now, the major cause of his bowel problems. He thought the whole goal had been to get him to sign the contract so he’d feel roped in to this program. He didn’t understand the extent of her plans for him, and didn’t know how important she thought it was to keep him constantly in diapers this night. After tomorrow, her techniques would change, but this first night she liked to have him diapering himself out of need, not out of fear. It was more amusing that way. But since Doug didn’t know that Mrs. Warren enjoyed his suffering, he wasn’t cynical enough to suspect the vast extent to which his actions were now being dictated by her. And in the end, his naivete would cost him dearly. But for now, Doug just sighed when, fifteen minutes later, he pooped in his diapers again, which severely strained their capacity. He again cleaned himself up, showered, and thought he didn’t like the idea, rediapered himself immediately afterward. He accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be able to fix the toilets tonight, and that due to his upset stomach he might have to wear the diapers until tomorrow morning. But, he told himself, it wasn’t just because this lady said he had to do it. It was his decision, because he was sick. And it was obviously just temporary. He took a look around his room. It was well-stocked with diapers and other supplies. And all of his underwear was gone! She’d stolen his underwear. He’d have to buy more. He suddenly realized he was starving. He hadn’t eaten since last night! He went downstairs again, wearing just his diaper and a t-shirt. It didn’t make any sense to wear pants, since he’d just have to change his diaper again soon anyway. He made himself some dinner, and thought about what to do tomorrow, when Mrs. Warren came back. He ought to accuse her of stealing, he realized. He ought to take some sort of legal action, because it really was absurd, the way she waltzed in here, tied him up, humiliated him, threatened him with blackmail, and stole his underwear. But what would the police say, he thought to himself. He’d let her in, allowed her (a perfect stranger!) to bind him in his own home, and then had signed a contract agreeing to all of this. Or at least he thought he had. He went upstairs and found it next to his bed. He brought it back down and read it while he finished dinner. [SEE CONTRACT] THE INCONTINENCE COMPANY'S INCONTINENCE CONTROL PROGRAM CLIENT CONTRACT I, ________________________, do hereby attest that I am completely and functionally incontinent of bladder and bowels, and have subsequently sought the services provided by The Incontinence Company (TIC, subsidiary of The Drugstore Company) for help in controlling my problem. I hereby state my desire to have a personal Incontinence Control Program (ICP) created for me by TIC, which I hereby agree to follow completely. The major aspects of such a plan have been described to me: I understand that the mainstay of my ICP will be the wearing of adult-sized diapers, either cloth or disposable, according to my needs as decided by TIC. I understand that I am expected to wear my diapers at ALL times excluding showers/baths and diaper changes, and I hereby promise to do so. I also agree to the wearing and use of other diaper-related accessories as deemed appropriate by TIC (e,g. plastic panties, pads, liners, pins). I also understand that, at the discretion of TIC, all bladder and bowel activity will be limited to my diapers, as a means of ensuring incontinence control and fostering discipline, and as a way of helping me to confront my incontinence. I understand that the eventual return to toilet usage will be an issue left entirely up to the discretion of TIC, if and when it becomes appropriate. I pledge to use my diapers exclusively and avoid all toilets unless instructed to do otherwise by TIC. I authorize copies of my house key to be made and used by TIC personnel for announced or unannounced visits to my home, and I give them permission to enter my home at any time, regardless of my presence, absence, or wishes at that time. I further request, recognize, and appreciate the central role played by discipline in my ICP, realizing that strict discipline is the other key component in the control of incontinence. I certify that I have been told that my ICP may include, if necessary, the application of corporal punishment and psychological techniques (eg. humiliation, role playing) as deemed appropriate by TIC, as long as no permanent repercussions are intended, other than my closer adherence to my ICP. I hereby publicly authorize the repeated and liberal use of such measures as spanking and humiliation, and I agree to submit myself wholly to them in the interest of achieving better incontinence control. I also understand that politeness and respect are a part of my disciplinary program, and I agree not to question my TIC representative’s judgment about disciplinary matters. I agree to a probationary period, to begin immediately, the duration of which is completely left to the discretion of TIC, and during which time discipline and supervision may be applied more intensely. I also understand that while efforts will be made to protect my privacy and to avoid public disclosure of my incontinence problems and the methods by which they are being controlled, that there may be unavoidable instances of public disclosure. I approve of these as long as they are made in good faith, with my best interests in mind. I certify that I have been told that my diapers will be delivered in a delivery vehicle clearly marked as carrying diaper supplies, and I acknowledge this as acceptable. I recognize that my ICP will inevitably prevent or interfere with personal, intimate, and/or sexual relationships I may already have or may wish to initiate. My enrollment in this ICP indicates my belief that controlling my incontinence takes priority over all other interpersonal or sexual aspects of my life, and I hereby agree to refrain from all sexual activity during the duration of my enrollment in my ICP. I ask for TIC’s assistance in helping me to control my sexual impulses, using restraining devices or corporal punishment to help me avoid any sexual experiences. I also agree to relinquish all decision-making responsibility regarding relationships to TIC, and I agree to seek authorization from TIC before engaging in sexual intercourse. I appropriately allow TIC full control over my bowel and bladder function and frequency, and I authorize any therapeutic measures TIC deems necessary in the interest of better incontinence control (eg. stool softeners, laxatives, enemas, diuretics, etc.) to be used at any and all times, if necessary, with careful attention to my health. Finally, as incontinence is a serious medical condition, I agree to continue my ICP as long as TIC believes it is necessary for me, unless I otherwise pass a TIC-administered incontinence test, or unless I bring written termination instructions from a TIC-authorized physician. I understand that I will be supplied with a list of these physicians if I ask, but that evaluation by a physician may only take place following six months of enrollment in my ICP. In summary, I certify that I understand and agree to all aspects of my ICP and each of the above statements. Signature____________________ Date ____________________ Witness ____________________ Well, this document would certainly be incriminating, he thought to himself as he finished reading. It gave her permission to do all of this to him, and more, apparently. He nearly choked when he read the part about abstaining from sex. I mean, I don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have an active fantasy life, he thought. TOO active, he replied to himself. His spirits sank as he realized that this piece of paper, of which she had a copy, essentially gave him no legal leg to stand on. He didn’t know much about the law, but it seemed to him that a signed document agreeing to wear diapers would look pretty voluntary to a judge. And, he had to admit to himself, he didn’t relish admitting his fetish, let alone the day’s humiliating activities, to ANYONE, and certainly not the general public. It would certainly cost him his position in such a small, tightly-knit program. No, he thought to himself, I’m on my own here. I’ve got to find my own way out of this. He put away his dishes and went back upstairs. He picked up the two soiled diapers he’d left on the bathroom floor, and put them, for lack of a better place, in the diaper pail that waited expectantly by his dresser. He sat down on his bed, noting the ever-present crinkling sound his diaper made. How could he get out of this? He’d asked himself this only the night before, he realized, and tonight he didn’t have too many more options. He could try to talk to her again, make her believe somehow that he wasn’t really incontinent. A full confession of his fetish might be his best chance. He could explain why the whole thing wasn’t appropriate for him and how the confusion had all happened. But if it hadn’t worked today, why would it work tomorrow? Mrs. Warren didn’t like excuses, he realized, and his failed continence test loomed large in the background. Besides, even the truth sounded hard to believe now. He’d WANTED to buy diapers, but didn’t really need them? Who did that? And why would he have waited until now to protest? Another alternative would be to stand up for himself and challenge her physically. He didn’t want to fight, but maybe this was the best way to convince her how serious he was about not wanting to be in this program thing. He’d simply refuse and protect himself if she tried to force diapers on him. On the other hand, as he thought back to their encounter earlier, he began to remember her size and apparent strength. He wasn’t small, but she really was very physically intimidating, and he began to wonder who would win a fight, if it came down to that. Yet anything was better than submitting to this nonsense. And if she tried to spank him (spank him! That hadn’t happened since he was six years old!), then he would have no choice but to protect himself and his pride. His only other options were unthinkable. He could always go along with this little program for a while and wait for another idea to come to him, perhaps after a detailed analysis of the flaws in the program’s rules. Or he could go along with this thing whole-heartedly, and try to “graduate” soon. But these options reeked of giving up, and were unthinkable. Submitting himself to such humiliating treatment daily was not something he could allow himself to do. He’d have to fall far lower to even consider it. It didn’t matter that he’d fantasized about just such a situation before. BEING in this situation made him realize he enjoyed his freedom far too much. He had other areas of his life to enjoy as well, after all. He couldn’t give all that up just for the opportunity to enjoy diapers a little more frequently. No, if he had infantile fantasies, he’d enjoy them on HIS terms. But he had to admit that he was out of ideas tonight. He grimaced as he almost reflexively let another runny BM out into his diaper. He was tiring of this diarrhea, and of these diapers. But he was prepared to bear it through the night, if he could get things back to normal tomorrow. Just to help things along, he waddled downstairs in his messy diaper and had two more large glasses of Mrs. Warren’s special milk. It hasn’t helped yet, he thought, but on the other hand, I’d hate to think what this diarrhea would be like without it. Then Doug waddled back upstairs, showered yet again, and changed himself once more. He watched TV for two hours before returning to his bed to sleep for the night. He soiled three more diapers that evening, and yet another when he awoke during the night, but he was so tired that he slept well anyway. So well, in fact, that he didn’t notice when Mrs. Warren stopped by shortly after midnight to check on her new baby boy. She was pleased to see nearly all the milk gone, and seven thoroughly soiled diapers in his diaper pail. And as she peeked in on Doug, she was gratified to see him sleeping only in his diaper and t-shirt. As she completed her inspection of his apartment, she was happy to find the toilets as she had left them, but she clucked quietly when a quick survey of trash cans and the bathtub revealed no evidence of shaven pubic hair. She wondered if he hadn’t shaved himself on purpose as a gesture of defiance, or had simply forgotten, or whether he’d even read the rules at all. It didn’t really matter, since she’d get to spank him tomorrow regardless of the reason, but for the future it would be good to know so she’d know whether she could anticipate further compliance problems. She drove away relatively disappointed that Doug was behaving himself so far by wearing and using his diapers, because midnight spankings were favorites of hers. She liked the element of surprise, and could often be creative. But no matter; she could wait until tomorrow. Doug awoke early and was distressed to feel his rectum already full. He felt ready to erupt into his still-clean diaper. He sighed and lifted his hips slightly to allow the putrid brown liquid to spill out of his bottom, completely filling and soiling his diaper. He then noticed his full bladder and turned over onto his tummy to relieve that as well. Then he carefully waddled into the bathroom and cleaned himself up, then powdered and rediapered himself wearily. This was gross, embarrassing, and infantile. He couldn’t stand much more of this; he hoped Mrs. Warren got here soon. He wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen, but she was certainly his only chance of getting out of this mess. It was clear that he had to show her who really ran his life. But he was disappointed when Mrs. Warren didn’t show up until after lunch, long after he’d finished his “milk,” and after three more very dirty diapers. He was studying when she surprised him by letting herself in. He was confused about how she managed this until he remembered about the key. As she entered his dining area and seated herself calmly in one of his dinette chairs, facing him, he decided that he’d better set the tone for how he hoped this little meeting would go. “What makes you think I’ll put up with those lock things on my toilet? Who told you you were allowed to make a copy of a key? Or come in unannounced. This is my house.” Mrs. Warren did not say anything. She simply stared at Doug with her steely eyes for nearly a minute. It grew tense. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but already she was making him feel powerless and small. As he felt her eyes bear down on him, he totally lost his train of thought. Shit, he thought to himself. Finally, she spoke, slowly and distinctly. “Because you are new to your ICP, those comments will today lead only to a warning. But you will never, NEVER, speak to me like that again, unless you decide you like to spend time face down on my lap. And most little boys do not. Is that understood, young man?” Doug did not know what to say. Her reaction was not at all what he had expected. “But this is my house, and…” “No buts. I asked you if you understood me.” Long pause. Doug simply didn’t know how to talk to this woman. She was acting just as if she were his mother, and he hadn’t had to talk to someone like this for a very long time. Instinctively, before he could stop himself, he heard himself say, “Yes, ma’am.” “That’s better. And to think that up until that moment I’d been impressed with your compliance. You’ve obviously been wearing your diapers like a good little boy, and I can see that you clearly have one on now under those sweats.” This shook him. Was the bulge that obvious? And could she really know that he’d worn diapers since she left? As if reading his mind, she said, “Yes, I was here overnight, and yes, it’s very obvious. Did you finish your milk?” “Yes…yes, ma’am. But it didn’t help.” “Oh,” she said sympathetically. “Have you had a lot of messy diapers?” He nodded, embarrassed. “Yes, ma’am.” “Well, look on the bright side. You won’t have any trouble with your messy diaper quota this week. And don’t worry: your little problem should be clearing up very shortly.” That was good news, at least. But what was the quota she was talking about? He had forgotten to read the rules, and now he started to think that was unfortunate. He was also aware that he was inexplicably falling into a little boy role while talking to her. It was embarrassing, but she seemed to expect it, and he couldn’t seem to help himself. Her personality was too strong. She smiled at him. She wouldn’t give him any more milk now. In a very short while he’d keep the diapers on voluntarily, and then, after some time, he wouldn’t dare take them off. It made her almost giddy in anticipation. But for now there was even a more delicious task to address. “So, you’ve been a good boy. I guess I just need to check your toilets and bathtub, and then we can take a look at you to see how you did shaving.” She was sure he hadn’t done it. And her spanking hand tingled with excitement. “What?” he said. He hadn’t heard anything about shaving, but he did have an ominous insight into what she might be referring to. And he didn’t want to do it. No way. Shaving himself for her, to pretend to be her little baby, was simply too weird and submissive. That was taking this way too far. “Shaving. Don’t tell me you didn’t read your rule list.” Uh-oh. Now he knew why he should have read the rules. “Well, that’s a little disappointing, Doug. I was beginning to think maybe you’d avoid a spanking today, but I can’t let you get away with not shaving. Hair underneath your diaper is against the rules.” His docile trance was abruptly shaken loose. Okay, he thought. That’s it. He had been uncomfortable and embarrassed up to now, but had been carried along by the illusion created by Mrs. Warren’s role-playing. But shaving himself and getting a spanking raised this game to another level entirely. With renewed determination, he shook himself, and thought, This is where I get off the ride. “Forget it. Look, this has gone on way too long,” he said, standing and pacing in front of her. “I’m not indulging your little whims anymore. I went along with the continence test because I thought it would be a nice, easy way to get rid of you. And then I’ve worn these “brief” things overnight because of my little diarrhea problem and your cruel toilet sabotage. But I’m no longer interested in your freakish diaper service, or your S&M games, so this has to stop.” He took a breath, and noticed that she was looking at him with an amused expression. It was somewhat disconcerting, but he went on, his tone turning rather desperate. “Yes, I know I got mixed up with you because I was buying those…briefs in that store that day. But they, um, weren’t for me, they were really for my grandmother, who is very ill, and somehow everything got all mixed up, and you got involved. So, well, you see, I’m not incontinent, and I want you to take your stuff and get out. “If you want my grandmother’s address, well, I can get that for you, but that's about all I’m going to do for you from now on. So I’d appreciate you unlocking my toilets, and taking your stuff, and giving me back my underwear, and leaving quietly. Thank you.” Doug took a deep breath and snuck a look at his audience. He thought that had actually gone very well. He hadn’t intended on making up a new lie, but it had come out of his mouth, and he thought it wasn’t bad. Mrs. Warren had sat and listened attentively. Then she said, “But what about your fetish? I know you have a fetish: you told me that last night. And what about the diapers in your closet upstairs, and the used ones in your trash outside? And what am I supposed to do about your incontinence, which you deny but for which we got some pretty extensive evidence yesterday? I can’t just ignore that, Doug. It would be irresponsible.” She sat back in her chair. “It doesn’t surprise me that you want out, even this early. It happens, because this is a rigorous program, and can be difficult when you first start. But you signed a contract. You made a promise.” She shook her head sadly. “And you have a problem that needs to be dealt with whether you want to or not. So, I’m not going anywhere, and we won’t ever discuss that prospect again. Your continence is too important.” Doug started to sweat. He’d forgotten the admission he’d made about the fetish, and didn’t know she’d seen his stash of diapers, let alone that she’d gone through his trash. Wasn’t there anything she didn’t know? How could he fight this? He sat down uncomfortably. Mrs. Warren continued talking, her tone becoming stronger and more commanding. “And let’s get something straight from the beginning.” She paused ominously. “You will never again tell me what to do. According to your ICP, which you are going to wish you’d read, I am the Mommy and you are the baby. And if we need to add some props to help you remember this, we will. I have adult-sized pacifiers, bottles, clothing, and furniture we can play with if we need to, not to mention spankings. You will never tell me what to do, or question anything I tell you to do. Understood, little boy?” Silence. He couldn’t say it. It was ridiculous. He had too much dignity for this. He had a life. He wouldn’t throw it away for this lady or this distorted fantasy. “Doug? I asked you a question. Tell Mommy the answer.” Silence. He didn’t know how to argue with her. It was so absurd. Mrs. Warren stared at him. She knew what he was thinking. She’d seen it before. It was time to get him to commit to this program. “Doug, I can see that we don’t understand each other. But you need to see that there is no choice for you here. And if it’s not because you want to get better or because you signed a legal contract, maybe you will obey me because of these.” She reached down and opened her large black purse. She withdrew two 8X11" glossy photos, and showed them to Doug, who gasped in horror. One showed him in the bathtub, with his messy jeans down around his ankles, and brown pasty goo caked on his legs and genitalia. The other pictured him sleeping peacefully in bed, apparently last night, wearing nothing but a diaper. He stared at these for a long time, trying to absorb their significance. Now he understood why she had seemed so confident since last night. These were very powerful elements of blackmail, documentation of what appeared to be totally voluntary activity that just happened to be captured on film. She had been careful not to use pictures of him tied up; these looked like he didn’t even know they were being taken, which was true. They also made it look like he wasn’t a victim, at all, as though this was the way he normally lived. Like he was a pervert who’d been caught in the act. Mrs. Warren broke his reverie. “Now, I do know where you work, and I did see the application you’re working on for your little graduate program. I don’t want to do this, but if you are so irresponsible as to ignore your incontinence, I will be forced to show these to folks who might be interested. I even have the addresses of your family.” She smiled at him. “Even your grandmother, who might be interested to learn that you have a problem so similar to hers,” she said dryly. Doug felt numb. His heart had stopped. This was it, coming true. His ultimate nightmare. Despair threatened to flood through him. How could this have happened? How could he have been so stupid? He hadn’t seen this coming at all. He hadn’t once taken this seriously or sensed what a catastrophe this could turn out to be. Everything had seemed straightforward and innocent. And all of a sudden he was totally trapped and at the mercy of this fanatical lady. The implications of these pictures were mind-boggling. Doug’s future was in this woman’s hands, he realized. She had the ability to ruin his life. He’d worked for years toward this grad program, building contacts, getting experience. It was within reach now, but this woman, with these pictures, could destroy it all. He’d lost the battle, he saw. This lady’s game was too strong. He couldn’t fight her, he couldn’t argue with her, and now he was even afraid to make her angry, for fear that she would go public with this blackmail. He had no choice. He had to submit. To anything. To everything. If he wanted a life, he’d have to submit. Mrs. Warren saw it hit him, and as always, it was the moment she treasured most with her new babies. For it was at this moment, and not before, that each one became wholly hers. She watched him abandon all hope and authority in his life. Essentially he had just begun the mental process of submission, and, therefore, of regression. After a day of fighting, finally their relationship was becoming what it should have been from the start: Mommy and little boy. It was sort of like giving birth, she thought, only better, since there was no pain (for her), and it happened every few weeks. Now the game would change. From now on arguments would be brief. He would try to please her, she knew, and she would try to frustrate him, both socially (since an isolated baby is a helpless baby) and sexually (so that she’d have lots of excuses, when he inevitably broke down, to spank him and keep him on probation). Yes, this moment was liberating for her, and invigorating, and the latest in a long line of moments to be treasured. She had to admit that once again she’d done a hell of a job. They stared at each other for several more moments, with fear growing in his eyes, and glee in hers. Finally she broke the silence. “Do you understand now, young man?” Pause. “Yes,” Doug said quietly. He thought he finally did. “Yes, what?” She loved this moment. It symbolized the entire transformation from independent man to dependent toddler. He knew what she wanted. And he had to obey. “Yes…Mommy.” Doug stared at his feet, trying to come to grips with his new situation. “Good boy. I’m glad we finally understand one another. We’ll have a great time together, I’m sure, now that that’s settled. First, unfortunately, we have some unpleasant business to take care of.” Doug’s head jerked up. What? Oh, my God, he thought. The spanking. She can’t be serious. But Mrs. Warren smiled knowingly at him and patted her lap. Doug was suddenly afraid. He didn’t want this. He’d never considered it as an actual possibility. If he’d known the rules, he would have been good and shaved himself, but he didn’t know, he told himself. It wasn’t fair. “No, please,” Doug said in a high voice that didn’t sound like his own. “I didn’t know. How about if I go upstairs right now and do it? That would be okay, right?” Mrs. Warren smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. You had your chance all night and this morning. It was to have been done by the time I came. You had a copy of the rules, and I told you you had homework to do. You either deliberately disobeyed, or you weren’t paying enough attention to me. Either way, I think a spanking will be good for you.” “No,” Doug whimpered. This would hurt. He’d fantasized about spankings, but not about the pain. Now that he faced it, he wanted out. “Yes,” Mrs. Warren said firmly. “Don’t keep Mommy waiting. She tends to get more angry when she has to wait, and I don’t think you want that.” Doug swallowed hard, and realized she was right. He forced himself to stand, then to shuffle his feet slowly toward his new Mommy. Chapter 6 He really didn’t want to do this, but he felt that he had to. He took another step toward her, so that he was now within an arm’s reach of her. She said, “You can go ahead and pull those jeans down.” Hands trembling, he moved to obey her, fumbling with his belt. Slowly he undid his belt, unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, and let them slide to the floor, revealing his bulky disposable diaper underneath. “Okay, let’s go,” she said a bit impatiently, indicating her lap. It always took too long the first time. When he hesitated, she reached up and firmly grasped his ear, causing him to yelp with pain. She pulled him roughly down and felt the familiar plastic of a disposable diaper settle on her lap. Doug suddenly found himself staring at the floor, and feeling very helpless. “Is this diaper dirty?” he heard her ask him, for what would not be the last time. “No,” he whimpered feebly. “Good,” she said. “Now grab the chair legs with your hands, and don’t let go. I don’t want to have to fight your hands up here. If you let go, we start again from the beginning. Got it?” “Yes,” came the weak reply. Her voice was so calm, in contrast to how he felt. He reluctantly grasped the chair legs with his hands. Then he heard his diaper being untaped, and suddenly felt a breeze meet his bare bottom. He was scared. His bottom was so vulnerable! He now remembered his childhood spankings, and how helpless he’d felt then. He cursed himself for ever having fantasized about them! SMACK! The first slap was surprisingly painful, but he had no time to think about it. Her hand came down again and again, more quickly than he could process. And to his surprise Doug found himself crying almost immediately, probably as much due to his being upset about the whole situation as to the painful spanking. It hurt, and it was so humiliating. But he kept his hands on the chair legs like a good boy, because he didn’t want to risk the consequences. And shortly, Mrs. Warren stopped spanking him. His crying faded into sniffles. Was that it? It hadn’t lasted as long as he’d feared. It was bad, but it could have been worse. He could almost handle this! “Doug, why are you getting this spanking?” he heard from above him. “I don’t know.” SMACK! “Yes, you do, and call me Mommy.” “Because…I didn’t shave myself, Mommy.” He felt her rub his bottom. That felt good. “That’s right. Good boy.” He let out a deep breath, relieved it was over. “I like to make sure my bad little boys know why they’re getting their spankings. We can keep going now.” And he felt her reach down, saw the purse in his peripheral vision. She seemed to retrieve something, but he couldn’t see what it was. Suddenly it wasn’t her hand caressing his bottom, but something smooth and cool. A brush? A paddle? This couldn’t be good. When the spanking resumed, the pain was sharper, but the sounds of impact had changed. Doug learned that his trial was not nearly over yet. And he cried again, out of pain and the frustration of being helpless. Twice more she stopped to have him repeat why he was being spanked, and twice more they resumed. It seemed to go on forever, far longer than he’d expected, and it hurt more than anything he could remember. His bottom burned and stung intensely. Finally she stopped, saying, “Will you remember to shave under your diaper now, little boy?” Gasping, Doug replied, “Yes. Yes, Mommy.” “Good boy. Would you like Mommy to shave you now?” “Yes, Mommy,” he sobbed, hoping that was the answer she wanted to hear. “Alright, let’s go upstairs.” And she stood him up, folding his diaper in one hand. His hands went immediately to his stinging bottom. “No, no, young man,” Mrs. Warren said, brushing his hands down. “That’s a no-no. We don’t touch our bottoms after our spanking, because that makes it feel better. We want it to hurt for as long as possible, don’t we? That way we keep thinking about what a bad little boy we were. Okay? No touching.” He choked back tears. “Yes, Mommy.” He hated her, but was desperate at this moment to stay on her good side. He kept his hands away from his throbbing bottom. She led him upstairs to the bathtub, which she filled with warm water. At her instruction, he lowered himself into the water carefully. He was happy to find that, in the water, his rear end didn’t hurt. But it wouldn’t have mattered. He was going to be good. He didn’t ever want another spanking as long as he lived. He watched as she found some shaving lotion and a razor and lathered up his groin. He bit his lip as she shaved away his pubic hair, starting at the top and moving down around his penis and scrotum. He stayed very still, because he didn’t like something sharp so close to him like that. But she was quite adept with the razor, and he imagined she’d had lots of practice. With a sure hand, she easily took away this vestige of his adulthood, and he looked down in amazement at his bald crotch. It looked so strange. He lay back and lifted his legs, as instructed, and she continued down around his bottom. Doug idly wondered how long his hair would take to grow back, but he needn’t have. It wouldn’t be an issue for a long time. When they were done, he let her lead him back into his bedroom, where she diapered him for the first time. She did it tenderly, stroking and rubbing him gently. It felt good, he had to admit. He fought feelings of affection for her as she did this, but it was hard. She was so gentle and loving as she covered him with lotion and powder, lots of powder, and then taped him securely in. It actually felt nice, though he tried to ignore this. This was the same lady who had just spanked him. His ambivalence frustrated him. Afterward, she picked up the copy of the rules that he had laying by the bed (“Why didn’t I read those?” he asked himself again) and led him, wearing nothing but his diaper, downstairs to the sofa, where she read the rules out loud to him, like a bedtime story. [SEE RULES] OFFICIAL ICP RULES Welcome to your new life! Welcome to your Incontinence Control Program (ICP)! The philosophy of our program is based on the idea that “Continence Comes First.” As you know, continence is one of the very first skills you learn, and is a prerequisite to successful functioning in our society. If you are incontinent, whether you are a baby learning for the first time, or someone like yourself who needs to start over from the beginning, controlling incontinence and regaining continence should take precedence over all other aspects of your life. Otherwise, everything else in your life will suffer. Our program is successful because it helps you properly prioritize your incontinence, which is the first step toward controlling and, later, eliminating this embarrassing problem. There are three essential elements to your personal ICP. First, as is true with any problem, the most important step is admitting from the start that you have a problem. Many of our incontinent clients have trouble admitting that they have trouble with such a basic issue as keeping their pants dry or clean. After all, even small children master keeping their pants clean and dry. To help you face up to this very real problem, we force you to confront your incontinence continually via the wearing and usage of adult-sized baby diapers. They are a visible and tactile symbol of your inability to stay clean and dry. The day to day care of your diapers and diaper area, as well as the difficulty you will face in hiding them from other people, will constantly remind you that you do indeed have an childish problem which needs prompt and constant attention. The second part of your ICP is control, the literal center of your program’s name. You were enrolled in this program, at least in part, because of a demonstrated habit of wetting or messing in your pants or bed. You do not need to be told how embarrassing wet or messy pants can be around other people. Even one accident has the potential to ruin relationships, job opportunities, and other critical aspects of your life. Repeated accidents almost guarantee social and business ostracism. To help you salvage the rest of your life before it is permanently damaged, we offer, via diapers, a foolproof method of preventing these all-too-visible accidents. And while having the occasional person find out that you wear diapers might seem embarrassing to you, it does not even come close to approximating the devastating effects of an unprotected accident in public. Wearing a diaper tells the people that do find out about them that you are aware of, are responsible for, and are taking effective actions against these repulsive social gaffes. It may very well impress them! The third principle of our program is essential and, at the same time, often painful: discipline. It is, however, the cornerstone of your hope to regain your continence, and it must take priority right from the outset. We involve discipline in our program in many different ways. For example, we know that it’s difficult to submit to the embarrassment of wearing diapers all the time. But the very act of trying to live with this embarrassment is excellent disciplinary training. So is maintaining good diaper hygiene on a daily basis. And so is following the list of rules which follows, and submitting to punishment when appropriate. Punishment can play a small or large role in our ICPs, depending on your dedication to the ICP rules. It is primarily designed to instill discipline, which is often lacking in clients like yourself. It may be, in fact, the lack of such discipline which has led to your inability to remain toilet-trained. Your participation in this program will hopefully lead you to develop the kind of discipline that will allow you to begin the second stage of your ICP, your Continence Retraining Program. But that’s a long way off in the future! For now, we simply want you to concentrate on your ICP. As you can see, with diapers and discipline, we can help you face your incontinence problem, control embarrassing accidents, and create a foundation of discipline upon which you can build for years to come. This is the philosophy of our program here at TIC. It has proven to be very effective both in controlling our clients’ incontinence and also in maintaining participation in our program over the long run, an area where other programs often fall short. How long will you be in your ICP? This is a question often asked but difficult to answer. People vary in the severity of their incontinence problems and in their attitude about their ICPs. Not cooperating with us will delay your progression toward getting off of probation and moving toward retraining. Since the critical goal is for you to achieve a certain level of discipline and control, there is no upper limit to how long you may have to stay in your ICP. You have signed a legal contract to participate in your ICP, and this binds you to continue with us until the TIC person in charge of your care and training (your TIC mommy) believes you are ready to move on. And this depends entirely on you and how you respond to your ICP. Cooperation makes TIC very happy, and you will move that much more quickly toward being able to use a toilet and wearing underpants again. Think of that! It certainly is something to work toward! So read these rules carefully and refer to them often. Post the mini-list at the end in several prominent places around your home, to help you remember how to be a good boy. Good luck, and be good! DIAPERS: Your assigned diaper, to be supplied to you by your TIC mommy, is to be worn by you AT ALL TIMES. This means twenty-four hours/day, everywhere you go (eg. while sleeping, to school, to work, on errands, to doctor’s appointments, to the beach, etc.). While embarrassment about wearing your diaper is common and natural, it is very important to wear one at all times. The only exceptions are that you may briefly remove your diaper for changing purposes or for baths/showers; try to make the time you spend out of your diaper for these purposes as brief as possible, while still maintaining good diaper-area hygiene. To help you remember to wear your diaper constantly, we have by this time, or will have in the near future, removed all your big-boy underpants from your home, and you will not be allowed to own any in the future, until such time as you are continent again. You may think of wearing underpants as a privilege to be earned, just as if you were a small child. To be allowed to wear your underpants again, you need to demonstrate a high level of continence skill. NOTE: Many pools and beaches forbid infants in diapers to swim in the water. THIS INCLUDES YOU, and so even though it is inconvenient, we ask you to obey these signs where they are posted. Rules are there to be obeyed. DISCIPLINE: Especially during your initial probation period, you will be checked often to be sure you are wearing your diaper. Your TIC mommy will have a key and permission to enter your home, and may enter unannounced up to several times a day, including overnight, to make sure you are being a good boy. School and work schedules will be furnished to your TIC mommy, and you will notify her of dates and errands, so that she may check on you during these times outside your home as well. For specific disciplinary measures, see below under “DISCIPLINE.” TOILET VS. DIAPER USAGE: For the foreseeable future, until your TIC mommy tells you differently, you are to use your diaper for all your bowel and bladder needs. This means that you are not to use any toilet at all until you are told that it is okay to do so. Unauthorized toilet usage will be met with severe penalties from your TIC mommy. At your home we help you by preventing toilet usage completely, usually by turning off, draining, and locking all of your home’s toilets. We add urine-sensitive blue dye to the remaining toilet water, and your TIC mommy will check the toilets (every day at first) to make sure that you have been good. If you live with roommates or a spouse who needs to use the toilets, we will either give them other special dyes, or keys to unlock the toilets, and they will be asked to take an active role in preventing you from using them. Public and guest restrooms elsewhere cannot be similarly equipped, of course, but remember that TIC mommies usually know where their TIC “babies” are, and almost always have an eye on them wherever they are. They may follow them personally, or hire other friendly babysitters to keep their eyes on you while you are at work or out shopping. Be aware that even suspicious loitering around a public restroom, let alone going in, may be grounds for serious punishment. In the interest of avoiding painful misunderstandings, please stay away from these areas and simply use your diaper appropriately. The other way in which you are encouraged to use your diapers is through the recollection of used diapers. As you take off a wet or messy diaper, wrap it up and place it in the bag placed in your diaper pail by your TIC mommy. At the end of each week, when your new diapers are delivered, we will pick up your bag(s) of used diapers for you. TIC counts them and compares the total for the week with your quota, which is set by your TIC mommy. This number will be calculated to estimate your weekly diaper needs at full usage. Therefore, if you turn in fewer than your quota, we know you’ve used a toilet and/or not worn your diaper all the time. This, of course, necessitates punishment. Please note the following as well: Your quota includes a total minimum number of diapers, IN ADDITION TO specifically a minimum number of messy diapers for the week. This minimum number of messy diapers is usually nine diapers per week, or just over one messy diaper each day. Each diaper must be fully “used,” ie. the wetness indicator in disposables >2/3 wet. This includes messy diapers. Diapers are tested by TIC for genuineness of urine with special chemical tests. These tests can determine if you’ve “doctored” a diaper (eg. added water, peed onto it while not wearing it, etc.). Extensive experience allows us to easily identify these diapers and the bad little boys who try to mislead us, and punishment for this infraction is particularly severe. Not meeting diaper quotas will obviously lead to punishment and/or “help.” See below. HYGIENE: Diaper are hygiene is extremely important in preventing diaper rash, which will make you very uncomfortable, and which often requires embarrassing trips to see the doctor. It is also a good way to practice your discipline, and to prove to your TIC mommy that you are a responsible and disciplined client. Hygiene includes: Shaving: It is expected that you will keep your diaper area (ie. ALL hair on skin that is covered by your diaper) closely shaven at all times. TIC mommies will begin checking your diaper area within twenty-four hours from when you start your ICP to make sure you are well-shaven. We recommend that you shave yourself every two to three days to keep yourself clean and comfortable. Shaving makes messy cleanups MUCH easier, and provides less area for diaper rash to fester. Your TIC mommy hates to see hair down there! She will check you often to see that your skin is as smooth now as it was during your first infancy. Showers/baths: We recommend showers or bubble baths every day. Many clients enjoy showering right after removing a messy diaper, to help them clean up. This is fine as long as you keep your bathtub/shower well-cleaned from day to day. Your TIC mommy will check this. During showers or baths you are expected to wash your diaper area very thoroughly, including both orifices. These are areas with very sensitive skin which must be kept clean. Diaper changes: Since you must use every diaper fully, which often means wearing a diaper long after it has been initially wet or dirtied, it is critical that you use vaseline, lotions, and/or powder to keep your skin in good shape. It is generally up to you to choose what combination you like the best, though your TIC mommy may have some special rules or suggestions for you. She will also provide you with any and all supplies you may need for this purpose. SEX: By enrolling in this program you have promised not to engage in any sexual activity until after your restored continence has been documented and your participation in your ICP has been terminated. The parameters of this rule should be clear, but we have found it necessary in the past to elaborate on this point. “Sexual activity” for boys means any situation which involves an erection or orgasm/ejaculation. In other words, you are not allowed to ejaculate while in this program; this includes sex with other people as well as masturbation. The reasons for this are simple and important. It is a matter of priority. Incontinence control requires full concentration all day long, every day. Since boys use the same part of their bodies for urination as for sex, some boys become confused and/or preoccupied when faced with the opportunity to use their penises for more than one purpose. You need your full energy and concentration in order to return to full continence, and anything, like sex, which takes your mind off this process, is counterproductive. At TIC, we believe there is another benefit to abstaining from sex while in the program. We like to use it as an incentive to cooperate with us in restoring your lost control. It fits in with the rest of the program: think of it as though you are a little boy who is growing up slowly. Parents use the promise of underpants as inducement toward continence; we use this as well, plus the promise of once again being able to enjoy the grown-up pleasures of sex. Babies don’t have sex, and while you are in diapers, neither will you. We know, however, that boys like you have trouble controlling their strong sexual urges, so we have devised several ways to help. First, we obtain agreements from significant others not to participate in sexual activity with you, to actively discourage you from engaging in any activity, and to report any suspected or witnessed activity to us directly, so that we may help you in avoiding such activity in the future. Second, we try to eliminate opportunities and the temptation for you to indulge in these naughty acts when you are alone, via several ways: You must always wear your diaper, as already mentioned. All diapers are meticulously tested chemically for ejaculate (eg. semen, sperm, etc.) when turned in. All disposable paper products are removed from your home permanently. You have no need for toilet paper, and other needs, such as kleenex or paper towels, can be satisfied with cloth products like handkerchieves or towels. All laundry is examined carefully by your TIC mommy before you are allowed to wash it. You are not allowed to touch yourself between the legs, even through your diapers, for any purpose other than cleaning, and these times are to be kept brief. Because some boys have demonstrated extreme resourcefulness in deceiving us, chemicals have been added to your sinks and bathtub/shower which will turn bright red if these surfaces come into contact with any ejaculate. These chemicals are permanent and are impossible to remove (this has been tried, and trust us, it does not work). Breaking the sex prohibition is treated very harshly, with both punitive and preventative measures often being taken. We believe strongly that sexual activity must be avoided by you at all costs, and we will work with you to eliminate these acts if they become a problem. This is a supreme example of how discipline plays a role in your ICP. If you believe you may have a problem with masturbation or other naughty activities in the future, please discuss this with your TIC mommy from the outset, so that we may prevent any problems from occurring. DISCIPLINE: As one of the central tenets in your ICP, discipline is obviously very important. In addition to the aforementioned role it plays in successful continence, it plays a large role in encouraging your active participation in this program as well. Discipline comes in two varieties in your ICP: self-imposed, the kind we want you to develop for yourself, and externally-imposed, in the form of punishment. Both of these types, if you have not already encountered them, will become very familiar to you in the near future. When we sat down to devise the punishments we thought would be most helpful to you in developing your discipline, we decided to focus on what would be most meaningful to you in your ICP. In keeping with the idea that you are starting from the beginning again (eg. wearing diapers, looking forward to toilet-training, etc.), we thought that a most infantile punishment, the spanking, might be most appropriate. It not only reminds you of your infantile incontinence, but it will reinforce your relationship with your TIC mommy, which ought to be that of a mother-toddler. There should be an element of nurturing and caretaking, but also an element of strict discipline as well. This mother-toddler relationship is a perfect analogy of what we think will work best; after all, nature uses it every day to teach continence the first time! The following list includes brief glimpses of some of the more common punishments doled out by mommies in the past. It is certainly not exclusive, and mommies have the liberty to devise and use nearly any sort of punishment if they think it will help you improve your self-discipline. The only limitations are that we ask TIC mommies to tone down punishment in public, unless necessary, and we forbid any punishment that might lead to permanent physical injury. Spankings: These are often the straightforward and old-fashioned type, with you being bare-bottomed and over your TIC mommy’s knee, given with an open hand. However, they are subject to modification by inventive mommies. In certain circumstances they may be given in public (see below) but usually are given in the privacy of your home. Given for a wide variety of offenses, including not wearing your diapers, poor hygiene, not shaving, backtalk, disobeying your mommy, touching yourself, having an unauthorized orgasm, being spotted near a public restroom, and going on errands without first telling your TIC mommy. Spankings are usually given without warnings beforehand, so if you have a doubt about whether you might be breaking a rule, ASK. The Wet Bet: This is a favorite of our mommies, so look out. TIC mommies love to visit their babies in public places and check to see if they are wearing their diapers by challenging them with the Wet Bet. It is not to be feared by good little boys who always wear their diapers, but it can become quite an embarrassing or painful problem for naughty little boys caught without their diapers on. In the Wet Bet, your mommy will bet you that you are wearing your diaper, and will then ask you to wet it for her. Good boys wind up with a wet diaper that simply needs changing, but bad boys end up with very wet pants in very public places. Refusing to take the bet leads to an immediate spanking wherever you happen to be at the time. You are told about this at the beginning so that you are not tempted to go without your diaper in public. You WILL be asked to take the Wet Bet, so be good and always wear your diaper. Bowel Encouragement: This is not so much a punishment as an old-fashioned medicinal treatment. If you fail to turn in your required quota of messy diapers for the week, you force your mommy to conclude that you are constipated and need a little help moving your bowels. This is most often accomplished using the suppository series, wherein your mommy encourages you to move your bowels by giving you a series of powerful suppositories in sequential diapers during a twenty-four hour period. Each diaper must be worn until your mommy thinks the suppository has done its job fully, and then you may be changed and given a fresh suppository. We find this treatment to be very effective, and often one series is the only such treatment any one client ever needs to help keep him regular and obedient. Humiliation: As mentioned, driving home your infantile status is effective both in reminding you of your underlying problem and in reinforcing your relationship with your mommy. Humiliation, both formally and informally, is often used by our mommies to emphasize what they feel is undisciplined or immature behavior. Being forced to eat baby food, or to use bibs, bottles, baby talk, and baby clothing and furniture often makes the point very clearly to our clients. Each mommy has her own favorite ways of embarrassing you, so be warned now. Avoiding this treatment, or escaping it once it has started, is only accomplished by accepting your punishment like a big boy and following all the rules (ie. growing up in your mommy’s eyes). Some of this humiliation inevitably occurs in public, but you can minimize this by being as good as possible. Wearing diapers is embarrassing, we know. Don’t make things any worse. Misc. Our mommies have your permission to use other forms of corporal, psychological, and diaper punishment on you at any time if it is felt appropriate and abides by the rules outlined above. A final word: no one is perfect, so you can expect to be punished, probably many times, over the duration of your ICP. We have yet to meet an ICP boy who doesn’t need an occasional spanking, or who isn’t better behaved afterward. (Of course, we also have yet to meet an ICP boy who thinks he needs the spanking! We wouldn’t expect any less. Boys are boys, after all.) How often will you be spanked? That is entirely up to you. Nobody likes to be punished, but our goal is to try to help you become more responsible and disciplined, and your punishment will help you move closer toward getting out of your diapers and back into underpants. It might be difficult to recall how good the punishment is for you when you are perched on a lap sunny-side up, or if you are forced to wet your pants in public, or spend an entire day in a VERY messy diaper, but if you can learn anything from it, it is worthwhile. Admit your mistake, accept your punishment, learn from it, and move on. 6) PROBATION: You are automatically on probation when you begin your ICP. While on probation you are subject to very close supervision and very strict discipline. Visits from your mommy to home and in public are frequent, and punishment is more severe. Its duration may vary in length from several weeks to several years, in the worst case, depending on your cooperation and attitude. Your mommy will take you off of probation when she is convinced that you will unfalteringly adhere to the rules and the philosophy of your ICP. Most clients initially appreciate this attention to detail, but we view getting off probation as one of the initial signs that you may be developing enough discipline to merit terminating your ICP and beginning toilet-re-training. 7) TERMINATION: Because our punishment often generates strong temporary urges to terminate participation in the ICP, we have made exit from an ICP relatively difficult, at the request of our clients. However, continence is the skill by which everyone in this program is judged, and if you demonstrate perfect continence, you may terminate your ICP. Our anticipation is that you will not regain continence until after finishing your ICP and undergoing our intense second step of the program, the Continence Retraining Program. You can take the short-cut, however, if you satisfy one of two criterion: a) Pass a continence test given to you by your TIC mommy. The use of mild “diaper juice” during a three hour continence test has been proved to be a reliable differentiator between who needs to be in our program and who does not. b) Get a signed note from an impartial physician testifying to your total continence of bowel and bladder. This is an available option only after six months of an ICP, since this is the established minimally therapeutic time in our program. Your TIC mommy will furnish you with a list of TIC-recognized physicians eligible to evaluate your continence status. Your mommy may ask you to obey certain other rules, and she, of course, has every authority to impose them on you. It is difficult to follow an ICP correctly all the time, but TIC has a proven history of EFFECTIVE INCONTINENCE CONTROL. Your full cooperation makes our job easier and your life more enjoyable. Good luck, and be a good boy! MINI-LIST OF RULES (to be posted in prominent places in your home) ALWAYS wear your diapers. Use them and them alone for all of your potty needs. Keep yourself CLEAN and SHAVEN. Use your diapers COMPLETELY, and SAVE them in your diaper pail for your TIC mommy. NEVER touch yourself in naughty ways or have any sort of sexual activity. ALWAYS do what your TIC mommy tells you to do. ACCEPT YOUR PUNISHMENT and try to learn from it. LOVE your mommy; she’s here to help! As he listened to the introduction, he fought the tendency to buy into the philosophy. But it sounded almost reasonable to him, and he wondered if they really did care about him and about helping him. But then again, it was so perverse. How could it be on the level? It was so extremely humiliating, he thought, to be lumped in with people who wet their pants or their beds, and to be treated like he was a baby. And how could they think this would really “help” him? They couldn’t be serious. This wasn’t a joke or a game. They really were going to treat him like a baby, on purpose, because they said he deserved it. The whole thing, “Working toward wearing underpants again,” made him feel so infantile. It really was stupid, he decided, not helpful. They couldn’t fool him. Other thoughts that ran through his mind as Mrs. Warren read what was to become his bible for the foreseeable future involved how he could fake compliance with these rules. There had to be flaws he could find. He was smart, and he had to be able to figure it out. Unfortunately, Mrs. Warren was smart, too, maybe even smarter, and she appeared experienced at this job. As she read the diaper rules, he saw how smart she was. Testing diapers seemed like a lot of work for her! But if they really did it, that neutralized many of his first disobedient ideas. He wondered if they really did do it, and how. He was trying to think about how he could fake using the diapers (peeing into them without really wearing them, etc.) when his new Mommy told him how her inspectors look for wetting patterns like splattering that gives away bad babies. Wet diapers have to look right, she said, which is impossible without wearing them. He became even more dismayed about the messy diaper quota and rules. He didn’t look forward to having to “fully use” his messy diapers. That meant wearing them for a while after he pooped, right? Being forced to wear messy diapers was gross, and would significantly add to his cleanup time. Using a shower would help, but what if he was away from home? The part about avoiding public bathrooms struck him as being impossible to enforce. Then he remembered how she had gone over with him his shopping and banking habits. She really would know where he was all the time. But seriously--who would be watching? He also had to call her whenever he left his apartment to go out. Doug could just leave a message on her cellular phone mail, so she could keep track of him all the time. But Mrs. Warren said she had other “clients.” How did she keep track of all of them? He thought that maybe this was an opportunity. He’d have to keep it in mind. It was when they got to the sex prohibition that he really got depressed. From the moment she read him the rules, he knew he’d never be able to follow them. He could nearly accept being forced to live his secret fetish and ultimate fantasy. It was painful, confining, and humiliating, but at least it was his fetish. He was even now feeling strong sexualurg es, and it was these that he thought would make this lifestyle palatable. But no sex? No masturbation? He couldn’t imagine. He now did that daily, and that was without a diaper in contact with him. Being sentenced to be in perpetual contact with his fetish object but never being allowed to climax, this was the best description of hell he could think of. He couldn’t live with that rule. He’d either have to get out of the program (which he was still determined to do) or figure out some way of getting around it. But his heart sunk as he listened to her precautions. He didn’t know where he could hide the evidence if his diapers, tissues, laundry, and tub/sinks were off limits. Could she really test all of these? That red dye sounded fake. And what if he smuggled home some tissues and then threw them away back at work? Hmmm… His mind wandered as she read him about his discipline. Spankings, and some wet thing, messy diapers, blah, blah, blah. How had this happened to him? It had only taken four days for his life to be ruined by two women. He’d just wanted some diapers for this week, for a little kinky fun. Now, he was living a nightmare, forced back into an embarrassing toddlerhood filled with spankings and diapers. He had just allowed himself to be spanked and shaved. He felt so degraded. How could this be real? But the alternatives were even worse, he told himself. At least this way, the rest of his life was still intact, and if he could somehow still get out of this program, nothing would be lost. He was still on target for his high-prestige life of research and academia, somewhere in the future. His dream was still intact, even if he had to sacrifice a little more for a few days or weeks to achieve it. Doug’s attention was refocused when she started talking about termination of the program. Another continence test, which he didn’t want to think about, or a trip to a doctor. That would be embarrassing, sure, but at least it couldn’t be tampered with. At least here was a foolproof way out, if everything else failed and six months from now he was still in diapers. This made him feel better: there was an upper limit to this madness. At the most, this surreal distraction would end in six months, and then he could return to his life. Mrs. Warren finished her little dramatic reading and helped him tape up copies of the mini-list all over his apartment. She then assured him she’d be back often in the next few days and nights to check on him. After a fond little pat on his diapered behind, she left. Doug watched his Mommy drive away in her pink pastel diaper van, and snaked his hands down the back of his diaper, finally able to rub his still-sore bottom in peace. Chapter 7 When Doug had spent several minutes soothing his hot, red bottom, he sat down in stunned amazement to consider what his life had suddenly been turned into. He thought of the mounds of diapers up in his room, destined to be worn and used by him in the near future. He thought of being forced to call Mrs. Warren “Mommy,” and essentially forced to do anything she told him to do. It was so humiliating. How could he possibly live with this? But what could he do? he asked himself. He told himself over and over that he had no choice. That it didn’t matter how he got here and what he thought about it. He simply had to play baby now, or risk losing the rest of his life. It was unfair, and miserable, but he had to be realistic: it was his only option if he didn’t want to be the laughingstock of his family, friends, and colleagues. He stared down at the bulky diaper he had sentenced himself to wear. Because he had gotten cute and self-righteous over the phone with Mrs. Sheffield, he was now going to wear the thickest, loudest diaper ever. It would undoubtedly be noticeable, and even more embarrassing was how much he had contributed to this situation. If he hadn’t gone into the store, if he hadn’t lied about being incontinent, if he hadn’t lied about wanting such an unmanageable diaper, if he hadn’t agreed to the incontinence test…there were so many ways he could have avoided this, he thought. But at every step, he’d made the wrong move, and now he was stuck. Stuck in a diaper so thick he wasn’t sure he could even masturbate through it, even if that was allowed. But, of course, he had been operating under the assumption that this was a game of which he had control. He now knew differently, but it was too late. This diaper service was a business, and a serious one at that. And he had just contracted them to enslave him in diapers. He snorted. It sounded like a dream come true. But--at least according to how his bottom felt right now--it was closer to a nightmare. He had to take this situation day by day. If he tried to deal with the whole thing, he’d get too depressed. But if he only thought about the next day, he could get through. Tomorrow wouldn’t be too bad. In fact, this week wouldn’t be too embarrassing, since he was studying at home alone. This was almost what he had intended for this week, anyway. No one had to know. Next week would be interesting, though, when he went back to work. How would he ever keep his co-workers in the dark? Bulky clothes, he mused… His real life would be quite a challenge. For the next day, though, his job was easy. Study as much as possible from his GRE Review Book, and, in the words of Mrs. Warren, “be a good little boy.” He actually didn’t care how ridiculous that sounded: right now, and for as long as his bottom kept hurting, he was happy to wear his diaper compliantly, and do anything else he needed to. He wasn’t interested in risking another spanking right now. Doug was surprised to find his diarrhea clearing up fairly quickly that afternoon. Mrs. Warren was right again, he thought. He didn’t like to admit it, but she seemed to know everything. And as his diarrhea slowed, he noticed that his diaper consumption was slowing as well. He thought about this idly during dinner. He would have to worry about this “diaper quota”. He calculated his usage for the week at his new, slower rate, and realized he’d be hard-pressed to wet enough diapers. And if he didn’t, he knew what awaited him. So he began to drink more that evening. This, he only half noticed, had the effect (desired by Mrs. Warren) of his spending more and more time in partially-wet diapers, as he conscientiously waited to saturate them fully. By the next day, Thursday, Doug was consciously starting to relax his sphincter control, wetting whenever he felt the urge. His diapers held almost anything, and as long as he had the opportunity to relax and not worry about control, why not? At this point, it wasn’t like it was important whether he tried to hold it back or not. The rules didn’t reward him for that! So who needs it? If I have to be a baby, I might as well take advantage of it, he thought. It’s the only perk of this stupid situation, after all. On Thursday, for the first time, Doug felt the need for the first time to have a real, formed BM. This was another little landmark for him, since it involved using his diaper for an “optional” mess: it wasn’t like the diarrhea, where he was controlling an emergent situation. It also necessitated wearing the diaper for some time afterward, since he hadn’t wet in it yet. It usually felt good, but today, as he squished around in his full pants, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being forced to do this, to wear his poop-filled diaper. Mrs. Warren was making him do this, and for some reason that made it less fun. Mrs. Warren stopped by occasionally and was pleased when she checked Doug’s diaper, diaper pail, toilets, and tub. She acknowledged his good behavior with a sticker on his refrigerator, about which she said he should be proud. He found it difficult to get excited about a sticker. It was just one more embarrassing element to this absurd program. Mrs. Warren had expected this good behavior. It was typical of her new boys for the first few days, what she called the “honeymoon” period. Their bottoms still stung, and the potential humiliation of the photos was still fresh in their minds. They also weren’t yet bored with the program, and hadn’t had enough time to build up a huge amount of sexual tension. This would all change, she knew... Doug did come up with some questions for Mrs. Warren, however, as he found minor problems with the ICP. How, for example, was he supposed to blow his nose if she had forbidden all paper products from his apartment? It was easily solved, Mrs. Warren said, by using an old-fashioned handkerchief, which, like his other laundry, was to be inspected by her before he took it to the complex’s laundry room. Working out details to another problem, Doug agreed to shave himself every other day to keep his bottom and groin smooth. On Friday, he did this for the first time, and found that it wasn’t too difficult, except for his ego. Saturday was the day of his big test, and, knowing this, Mrs. Warren showed up at his apartment early in the morning to see him off. She presented him with a large, pink pastel diaper bag, which he was not so pleased to receive. It was so frilly and infantile that it could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was. He pled his case to her that it was just too embarrassing to take out in public, but Mrs. Warren said that it was more important to be prepared properly than to be socially comfortable, and she therefore wouldn’t accept his excuses. This brought up an issue Doug hadn’t considered before. Surely there would be times when he’d have to change himself in public, but how was this possible if he wasn’t allowed near restrooms? It wasn’t so hard, said Mrs. Warren. First of all, any time he went out, he should already have informed her, so that she or a babysitter could watch him. If the possibility of needing a change existed, they would know about it, and could appropriately interpret his usage of a bathroom. If he used it to change himself, he should naturally have a used diaper to show for it, and this could be checked when he arrived home. He was, however, warned that any trip to a public restroom would be carefully watched and, often, timed. Some of his “babysitters” might even be male and could follow him in. Any activity conspicuous for masturbation or using a toilet would be punished as such. As long as he hurried and was a good boy, he’d be okay. So he went off with his pink diaper bag to take his test. It lasted through lunch, and he found that by restricting fluids, he didn’t have a problem needing a change. This was a relief for him. No one even noticed his bag, or his bulky bottom, or his waddle, or his rustling, probably because everyone was so preoccupied with the test. Doug came home from the test impressed with his academic performance, considering all the stress he’d been under during the preceding week. With the test finished Saturday night, though, Doug started thinking about the future. He was worried about going grocery shopping tomorrow, his first errand outside his apartment wearing diapers. He also started thinking more long-term, and he was already tired of wearing these huge diapers. It was a pain. In all of his fantasies, he’d never imagined he could miss the convenience of the toilet, but he was starting to. It took longer to change messy diapers, and cleaning himself was tedious and, often, gross. Fussing with tapes and getting the fit right took practice. It would be so much easier to pop into a bathroom and use a urinal. In addition, there was also the growing problem of his mounting sexual appetite. He hadn’t come in several days, and that was just about a record for him. Plus, he wasn’t excited about resuming his public life on Monday when he went back to work. Hiding these bulky diapers might be impossible, and would at the very least be a huge social burden he’d have to deal with constantly. All in all, he was beginning to feel far less obedient than he had over the past few days. He was starting to see that, just as he’d feared, he couldn’t live this life constantly. It wasn’t practical or desirable. If he was going to cope, he’d have to figure out some ways to cut corners, to express his independence in little, harmless ways, and to maintain a vestige of his former autonomy. He mulled this over in his head, before forming a plan for tomorrow. He needed groceries. He assumed he’d be followed, or something, but he wondered how Mrs. Warren would follow him if she didn’t know he’d left. What if he left right after she visited tomorrow? She never returned right away. She’d never know. And if she didn’t know, he could venture out without his diaper, and not risk embarrassment tomorrow at the store… It made him a little nervous to think about, but it had to work, right? If he was scared, he could always take along a diaper in the car, into which he might be able to change quickly if he somehow met Mrs. Warren on the way there or back. And he’d hurry, to cut down further the chance of being discovered. The risk, he calculated, had to be miniscule. And the symbolism, and implications for later, were enormous to him. If he could poke a little hole in her regime, there might be other opportunities later. His life might end up being manageable after all. Doug went to sleep Saturday night excited, with the first bit of hope about the future that he’d had in days. As he settled into bed, feeling the now-familiar thick cushion between his legs, and hearing the omnipresent crinkling of his diaper, he could hardly wait until for what the next day would bring. If he’d known what would really happen, however, he wouldn’t have wanted ever to wake up. Mrs. Warren visited Doug around noon on Sunday, which was great for Doug’s plans. After she left, he watched the diaper van exit the apartment complex’s parking lot, and as soon as it disappeared, he ran upstairs and took off his diaper. He was going to leave it at home, but on second thought, just to be safe, he folded it carefully and decided to take it with him, on the off chance he saw Mrs. Warren on the way to the grocery store. He wasn’t going to take any chances. He pulled his jeans back up, and immediately noticed how strange not wearing a diaper felt after only a couple of days. It felt weirder, of course, because he didn’t have any underwear to wear, so his normally-insulated skin was in direct contact with his rough jeans. In addition, for the first time in fifteen years, he had no pubic hair, so he felt the odd sensation of breezes drifting through his crotch periodically. But he had to hurry. He didn’t want to be out of his diaper for more than forty-five minutes this first time. It would be too horrible if she found out. Later, he might explore the limits of his freedom, but right now he wanted to play it very conservatively. So he took the spare diaper, grabbed his keys, and jumped into the car. He drove carefully to the grocery store, keeping an eye out for pastel-colored vans, but as he expected, didn’t see any. He quickly made his way inside the store, grabbed a cart, and efficiently started collecting the items he needed. He was organized and fast; he wanted to take no chances. He breezed through several aisles before seeing the one thing that could make his heart skip a beat. Mrs. Warren was in the store! He saw her near the cash registers, but she didn’t see him, he thought. She didn’t have a cart, so it appeared that she must just be looking for something specific. Suddenly it hit him. She was looking for him. He didn’t know how, but she’d found him. He peeked down an aisle and saw her crossing it at the other end. He knew what he had to try to do: guess where she was heading, and go the other way. He could still escape, get home, and get into a diaper before she caught him. It wasn’t a sure bet, but it was possible. He could be quite savvy in these situations. But damn! How had she found him? And now he questioned why he had even taken this chance. His bottom tingled. He didn’t want to cross this lady again. He was still a little sore from the first spanking, for God’s sake. Forty-five minutes out of a diaper was hardly worth this risk, he belatedly realized. Thinking quickly, Doug reversed his direction and turned down an aisle, pushing his cart with urgency. He was halfway down the aisle, thinking he might actually make it past the registers and safely to his car, when Mrs. Warren suddenly appeared directly in front of him at the end of the aisle. How?..Doug froze in panic. Seeing him, she turned and strode toward him. Doug began to feel queasy. What would happen now? He was in an extremely vulnerable situation: he’d snuck out of the apartment without telling her, and he wasn’t wearing his diaper. He feared the worst, and Mrs. Warren wasn’t one to disappoint. “Well, Douggie, what a surprise it is to see you here,” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “I didn’t know you were headed out. Maybe we’ve forgotten some of our rules?” She paused, letting her eyes sweep over him in a quick, practiced assessment of his diaper status. Doug felt his body tense; he (correctly) surmised that she now knew that he was undiapered. He stared at her face, looking for any sign of this fact, but her expression didn’t change. “Well, Doug, I know it’s early in your ICP, and there are a lot of rules to remember, so why don’t we go easy on you here?” she said, with just a little too much sweetness in her voice for Doug’s taste. “We’ll just play the Wet Bet and leave it at that. Okay? If you win, no punishment for leaving home without telling me. But,” she smiled at him knowingly. “If you lose, you lose.” Doug's mind swirled. The Wet Bet. He’d read about it, he thought. But what was it? She read his mind. “I know you haven’t yet played this little game, so I’ll describe it for you. It’s very simple. I make a bet with you that you’re not wearing your diaper now. I know you’re a good little boy, so I’m sure I’m wrong, but you just need to prove it to me. “So I ask you to wet for me right now. You pee, and then we see who wins the bet. If you win, and you’re wearing your diaper, then you only end up with a wet diaper that we can change very easily. If I win, and you don’t have a diaper on, that fact will become very obvious very soon. In that case…” Her voice trailed off, indicating the undesirability of that outcome. “But either way, I have to insist you take the bet.” She went on, “Your only other option would be a particularly severe spanking right here in this aisle. Most of my boys don’t like their pants pulled down in public, so I don’t get to do that very often. They always take the bet.” She sort of smirked at him. “Well, what’ll it be? You wanna take the bet?” Now Doug was scared. She had him pinned against a wall, and she knew it. Wetting his pants in public versus a spanking in public. He’d had a spanking before, though, and decided that even public humiliation by wetting his pants be better than that. Anything would be better than a public spanking! He swallowed hard, as he realized he really had no choice. At least if he sucked it up and wet himself right now he’d avoid any other punishment. It would be humiliating, but it would be otherwise painless, and over very quickly. Then he could go right home and change. He stared at the floor and nodded. She smiled cruelly, though he didn’t see it. “That’s a good boy. Now, here’s how we’ll do it. I’ll turn around, and you can start peeing. Then you’ll tell me when you’re done, and we’ll try to figure out who won. If your pants are dry, I’ll need to see your diaper, of course, to make sure you didn’t cheat. That would earn you a spanking, too.” She smiled that fake smile again as she said, “Of course, I’m sure you wouldn’t cheat.” He nodded nervously. “Okay,” she said, turning away to pretend to look at some spaghetti. “Fire when ready.” Doug glanced nervously down the aisle both ways. Not seeing anyone, he tried to relax and empty his bladder. He felt a trickle come out, and then more, so he said, “Okay.” She said, “Okay, keep going. Ten seconds should be enough.” Doug grimaced. He felt his urine rush out now. He really had needed to go. That was unfortunate. He looked down and watched in horror as his crotch darkened quickly, and then he shuddered as he felt hot pee flowing down his legs, soaking his jeans. The insides of his pants legs turned dark blue, and he felt his socks get warm and wet before he saw his tennis shoes flood and then overflow. It would be unmistakable to anyone who saw him what had just happened. By the time he figured ten seconds was up, he was standing in soaking wet jeans, in a small puddle on the floor. In a weak voice, he said, “I’m done, um, Mommy.” (Maybe she wouldn’t make fun of him if he buttered her up.) He just wanted to go home and change his pants. They were already turning cold and uncomfortable. But when Mrs. Warren turned and saw Doug in wet pants, her expression changed to one of anger, something he’d not seen since that first morning last week. He watched her with growing apprehension as she opened her large purse and pulled out what he recognized as one of his diapers. How did she know to bring one, he thought idly. And what was it for? “Here,” she snapped. “You’ll need this.” She put the diaper in one of his hands and grabbed the other. She yanked on his arm, dragging him with her in the direction of the registers. He tried to follow, uncertain of what was happening, but acutely aware now of his wet, heavy pants. They were already starting to cool and feel uncomfortable. He hoped they were headed outside to the car, but his hopes sank as she led him up to the nearest register. Doug withered with embarrassment as moms and children turned and one by one saw him, wearing wet pants and holding a large diaper. “Could you tell me where the little boys’ room is?” Mrs. Warren inquired of the young lady at the register. She looked a little younger than he, and had surprisingly large breasts. Doug couldn’t help staring at her blond hair and beautiful face. Mrs. Warren was not similarly mesmerized: “I’ve got one who needs his pants changed.” The checkout girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded slowly. “Yes, he sure does. He seems a little big to be having accidents.” Mrs. Warren snorted with derision. “Well, he’s apparently not as big as he seems, is he?” The girl took a moment to study Doug’s stained jeans. “No, I guess not. Well, that’s what the diaper’s for, right? Too bad for him he wasn’t in one earlier,” she giggled, seeing Mrs. Warren’s obvious anger at Doug. Noting the determination on her face as well, she added, “I bet he’ll wear one from now on. But anyway, the restrooms are in the back corner of the store. You can change him there.” Doug could have died. He felt his face burn with embarrassment. Could this day get any worse? “Thank you,” he heard Mrs. Warren say. “And I’m afraid this little boy also left a puddle in Aisle #3. If you give me a minute to get him dressed a little more appropriately, I can have him back out to clean it up.” The girl nodded, staring hard at Doug’s pants, clearly trying not to laugh. “That’s fine, but you probably need to see the manager first. She likes to know about things like this, and she can get him a mop or something. Oh, by the way, if you need more diapers for him, we ARE having a sale on Attends down in Aisle 7.” “Thanks, but we’re very well stocked already. Trust me, we have to be. Now, where is your manager?” The girl pointed at the other front corner of the store, so Mrs. Warren led Doug across the entire front of the store. They passed dozens of people in line to check out, and most of them turned and saw him. Doug started to feel lightheaded. This was horrible. The manager was on the phone in the customer service area, so they had to wait a moment before talking to her. Mrs. Warren still had an iron grip on Doug’s wrist, and Doug instinctively struggled a little to get her to loosen her grip. At this Mrs. Warren wheeled around with fire in her eyes and swatted his bottom. Since it was damp and undiapered, this stung quite a bit, not to mention the added embarrassment it caused him. He was being treated like a two year old, and the worst thing was, with his wet pants and stinging bottom, he felt just like one, too. “Don’t you mess with me, young man,” Mrs. Warren said loudly, so that she caught the attention of anyone in nearby lines who wasn’t already staring. “You’ve already done enough.” “Evidently so,” said the manager, a stout stern-looking woman who had finished her phone conversation and was now studying Doug’s pants with a disapproving gaze. “Looks like you’re a little late with the diaper, young man.” Mrs. Warren turned her attention to her, but kept a firm grip on Doug’s aching wrist. “Yes, ma’am. I was going to ask you if I could use your restroom to change his pants anyway. Afterward, I was hoping that he could clean up the little puddle he left in Aisle #3.” “Of course,” the manager said. “I’ll leave a bucket and mop in the back hallway for when he’s a little more properly attired,” she said, smiling at the diaper in Doug’s hand. She pointed them to the rear of the store, and Doug was now dragged at what felt like breakneck speed back past all the registers with lines of people whispering, down a side aisle, and to the back corner of the store. They turned in a short hallway and found a door marked “Restroom: Men/Women.” Mrs. Warren tried the door, but it was locked. She knocked, and a female voice inside said, “Just a second!” So they waited. Doug nervously held his diaper and tried to ignore the now stone-cold wetness of his pants and the pain in his wrist. Mrs. Warren was silent, staring away from him. Doug wanted to know what would happen in that little room, but he didn’t dare bother her. He assumed they would change his diaper and then come out and clean up the mess. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He spent his time telling himself how dumb he’d been, how he’d never sneak out or not wear his diaper again. Finally, the door opened and a woman came out. She caught sight of Doug with wet pants and a diaper in his hand, and gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize I was taking so long.” Mrs. Warren spoke up right away. “Ma’am, don’t blame yourself. This happened out there in the store because someone wasn’t wearing his diaper like a good boy. I just need the bathroom so I can remedy the situation.” Doug was finally so embarrassed that he totally tuned out what was happening. He pretended he was somewhere else, and ignored this humiliating experience. “Oh,” said the woman, with a knowing look at Mrs.Warren. “Do you think he’s learned his lesson yet?” “I don’t know,” Mrs. Warren replied, “but I’ll make sure, just as soon as I can get his pants down in there and turn him over my knee.” The woman nodded sympathetically. “Well, good luck. Don’t go easy on that wet bottom, or he’ll never learn.” “Don’t worry,” Mrs. Warren assured her. “He won’t forget this.” The woman left, and Mrs. Warren pulled a distracted Doug into the small bathroom. She whipped him around and closed and locked the door, then let go of him. While Doug rubbed his wrist, Mrs. Warren sat down on the closed toilet seat. Doug stood quietly and watched as Mrs. Warren pulled out of her large black purse what looked like a changing pad. He had to admit to himself that this woman was always prepared. She must have known that she’d catch him, and had come with everything she’d need to put a diaper on him, he thought. And if he was going to have to lay down on this bathroom’s floor to be changed, he was actually pleased at the prospect of using a changing pad. But she didn’t spread it out on the floor. He grew sort of confused as he watched her smooth it out on her lap. He’d never heard of being changed on someone’s lap, but it was a small bathroom, and he was new to this. When the pad seemed well-smoothed out, Mrs. Warren addressed him sharply. “Alright, little boy. Get those pants down around your ankles.” Doug said, “Yes, Mommy,” trying to stay on her good side. She didn’t seem to be getting any less angry, which worried him a bit. He obeyed quickly, telling himself this was obviously a necessary step before he could be diapered. “Come face me,” she said shortly. He shuffled over to her. How was this going to work? “Hand me the diaper now, Doug.” So he held it out to her with his left hand. She’ll clearly need that, he thought. “The other hand,” she said, annoyed. That’s odd, he thought, as he obediently switched the diaper to his right hand and held it out to her. Why should that make a difference? He found out very quickly. Mrs. Warren reached out with her left hand and took the diaper from his right, as she simultaneously reached across her body with her other hand to grasp his outstretched wrist. In a smooth, strong, and practiced motion, she yanked on his right arm, turning him, throwing him off balance, and directing his fall across her lap perfectly. In the space of two seconds Doug was surprised to find himself suddenly staring at the bathroom floor. He saw Mrs. Warren set the diaper aside, and it dawned on him that she had something else entirely on her mind. It became clearer why she wanted the changing pad on her lap… But this shouldn’t be happening, he thought. They’d had a deal. “Hey!” he yelled in frustration. “That’s not fair! I took the bet!” “And you lost, little boy. So you get a spanking. Don’t you remember your rules? By taking the bet you simply prevented this from happening out there in the aisle where you wet your pants. Would you rather we do this out in the store where everyone can see what a bad baby boy you’ve been?” Pause. SMACK! Oops. He’d thought it was a rhetorical question. “No.” SMACK! “No, what?” “No, Mommy. I’m sorry.” “That’s better. Now let’s have a little discussion about your behavior today. Why don’t you start by explaining to me what you’ve done wrong since the last time I saw you.” He hated her. She was going to draw this out and make it even more humiliating than it already was. But he wasn’t really in a position to argue. So he told the floor in front of him. “I, um, took off my diaper, Mommy.” “Yes, and what else?” “I, well, I went out without telling you.” “That’s right. And does that make you a good little boy or a bad little boy?” “Bad.” SMACK! “I’m a bad little boy, Mommy.” “That’s true. And what do little boys like you need when they’re bad?” “They need a spanking, Mommy.” “So what do you need right now, Doug?” “I need a spanking, Mommy.” He was embarrassed and angry. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he’d hear himself say something like that. “That’s also true. And how many spankings do you think you need?” Doug’s blood ran cold. What!? She ought to be kidding, but so far, Mrs. Warren hadn’t kidded around very much. “I think I’d like one spanking, Mommy,” Doug said hopefully. SMACK! SMACK! Guess not, he thought. Damn. “I need two spankings, Mommy,” he said, aware that he’d begun to whimper a little. This was worse than he could have imagined. If that spanking last week was “one,” what must “two” be like? “That’s right, Doug. You need two spankings because you broke two different rules today. For my convenience, I’m just going to combine them into one long spanking, though. Now, just as a reminder, after our spanking, do we get to rub our bottom with our hands?” “No, Mommy.” Shit. He’d forgotten about that. “Why not?” Mrs. Warren asked with a little sadistic glee. “So it will hurt more,” Doug answered obediently. This was so horrible. And worse, his appreciation grew for the fact that he could never, ever tell anyone what he’d been through. It was too embarrassing almost to think about. No one would believe him. How would he get his real life back? “That’s a good boy. I know you can’t hold on to chair legs here, so just keep your hands down and out of the way. Any questions?” Yeah, he thought. What did I ever do to deserve this? To her, he managed a weak, “No, Mommy.” And his bottom tingled with expectation as he remembered vividly the pain from last week. He cursed himself again for having tried such an unnecessary prank. Never again, he promised himself as the spanking began. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The pain was unbearable right from the beginning, and the knowledge that it would not soon stop and the humiliation and stress he’d already endured caused Doug to start crying almost immediately. Unfortunately, Mrs. Warren actually seemed annoyed by this, and she redoubled her efforts to paddle his bottom. He sobbed, and she spanked mercilessly, until they were both out of breath. Doug was grateful when she stopped, though it turned out it was only to remove a small, flat, hairbrush from her purse. This, he realized, would be the second spanking. His bottom was sort of numb from the first one, but he was startled to realize how much more painful it was than her bare hands. He cried all the way through. When it had lasted longer than Doug thought possible, Mrs. Warren stopped and stood him up. Tears streaming down his face, Doug’s hands immediately and instinctively made their way to his red, hot bottom. He rubbed it as he cried, trying to overwhelm the searing pain that still raged through his rear end. Mrs. Warren reached over, grabbed one of his arms, now limp as spaghetti from his ordeal, swung him around and swatted him several times again. “No touching, little boy,” she fumed. “Do it again and we can start over from the beginning.” Doug fought through his tears to find the energy to say “Yes, Mommy,” and to obey. He managed to hold his arms stiffly down at his sides. All he could think about was how much his bottom hurt, how miserable he was, and how much he hated Mrs. Warren. He was oblivious to Mrs. Warren as she now spread out the changing pad on the floor and laid his diaper out on top of it. She gently guided him down to it, positioned his abused bottom over the back of the diaper and had him lie down. He allowed her to lift his legs, rub some lotion on his hot skin, and sprinkle him with a generous amount of powder before lowering his legs, pulling the diaper through, and taping him up tightly. He was beginning to stop crying as she stood him up. He had no energy to resist her as she did something intended to embarrass him even further once they left this room: she tucked his shirt deep inside his diaper, and pulled the diaper’s waist up as high as it would go. When she pulled his still-wet pants back up and buckled them, about two inches of diaper were clearly visible above his jeans. Doug didn’t even notice. Mrs. Warren folded up her changing pad and put it away, stowed the hairbrush, then brushed off her strong hands. That had been exhilarating and, as always, excellent exercise. But she wasn’t done with Doug today. Doug was close to getting his sniffles under control as Mrs. Warren unlocked and opened the door. Several employees who had apparently been hovering just outside, entertained by the sound of Doug’s spanking, dispersed rapidly. Doug stepped out into the service hallway and was acutely aware of how his diaper insulated his still-hot bottom, so that the heat amplified the continued pain he felt. His legs, on the other hand, were ice-cold and wet from his soaked jeans. He felt completely miserable. But he had another embarrassing ordeal to withstand, if he didn’t want another spanking, so Doug dutifully took the mop and bucket he saw waiting in the hall, and slowly wheeled them toward Aisle #3, where a small “SLIPPERY WHEN WET” sign had been placed near the puddle he’d made not half an hour ago. People he passed whispered and stared, but Doug almost didn’t care now. He tried to shut out the outside world, though his inside world wasn’t any more comforting. Mrs. Warren followed at a short distance, keeping a watchful eye on her charge, but he was behaving well. It was then that she knew that while he obviously had an enjoyable little rebellious streak in him, he also would probably end up being one of her best clients. He had a little fight in him, to make it fun, but he also had some common sense, too, and knew when to quit. Doug mopped quietly. The first time he looked down, he caught sight of the diaper protruding so blatantly from his pants, and it didn’t take much to realize that it had been done on purpose. He glanced at Mrs. Warren, who had observed his discovery, and she smiled at him slightly. He took a deep breath and kept mopping. There was simply nothing he could do about it. His bottom hurt more than enough already. When he’d finished and returned the mop and bucket to the back hallway, Mrs. Warren guided him back to the manager’s office. On the way she told him what she wanted him to say. “Ma’am,” Doug started politely, when the manager came over with an amused smile on her face, “I just wanted to apologize for wetting myself here in your store, and for making that puddle over there. I, um, cleaned it all up. I, um, just wanted to say I’m sorry.” “That’s good,” the manager observed. “I heard quite a racket back there in that bathroom where you two were. Do you think you learned a lesson?” Doug coughed with embarrassment, and looked toward Mrs.Warren, who returned his glance with a questioning look. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he said, finding it hard to meet her eyes. “I, um, promise it will never happen again.” He was sure of this. “And how can I be sure of that?” the manager inquired. “Well,” said Doug, “I’m wearing a, um, well, a…diaper now.” “Oh, yes, I see,” she replied, pretending to notice for the first time. “Not quite ready for big boy pants, are we?” she said, as if to a three-year-old. This was so degrading, being treated like this. But he had no choice but to humor these women. But he still couldn’t look her in the eye, mumbling, “Uh, no, ma’am, I guess not.” He noticed Mrs. Warren giving him a meaningful glance. “Oh, and I wanted to ask you if I might be allowed to finish grocery shopping now,” he remembered to ask. “I guess that would be alright,” the manager said, looking to Mrs. Warren, who was nodding at her, for her answer, the way strangers will often do with a child and his parent. “As long as your Mommy thinks you’ve learned a lesson, and are wearing a diaper like a good little boy.” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug murmured, his bottom and face burning from the spanking and the embarrassment. “And may I please have permission to shop here in the future?” “Hmmm,” the manager said thoughtfully. “Yes, you may, if you come wearing a diaper which is at all times visible, such as you’re wearing now, so that my employees and I can tell the big boys from the little ones like you.” She seemed to decide something. “Also, I’d like for you to check in here when you first get here so that I can tell an employee to keep an eye on you. Any puddles, misbehavior, or even so much as a wet spot on your jeans will be dealt with very harshly, young man. My children will tell you that I can warm a fanny with the best of them.” She smiled warmly at Mrs. Warren, who smiled back appreciatively. “And one more thing. I want you to bring a spare diaper with you, in case there is a leakage problem. I can find one of my staff to change you, or I can certainly do it myself. Okay?” Doug nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” “That’s a good boy,” the manager said, and winked at Mrs. Warren, who was deeply impressed. She’d actually never been to this store or met this woman before, but this stranger seemed to have a natural understanding for what was going on. Mrs. Warren began to think more of her boys would shop here in the future. What a pleasant surprise. Doug resumed shopping grimly. The rest of the trip was excruciating, and dreadfully slow, so he had time to consider what had just happened. He’d just set himself up for weekly humiliation and public embarrassment, and had thanked the lady for it. The manager’s attitude had shocked and disappointed Doug as much as it had pleased and surprised Mrs. Warren, and he was now questioning whether everyone would approve of how he was being treated if they knew about his situation. It was weird that one of these people didn’t object to his being spanked and diapered. (Doug had no way of knowing that he’d simply had the misfortune of encountering another relatively unusual woman; his ignorance made him begin to wonder whether there was more of this kind of thing going on than he had previously been aware of. Any uncertainty about this on Doug’s part simply made Mrs. Warren’s job easier, so she would have been pleased.) Well, he thought, thank goodness for the fact that this store is out of the way. He’d never seen any of his friends shopping here, and that was the only aspect of today’s experience he was happy about. One thing was for sure, he knew. He wasn’t soon going to try to disobey Mrs. Warren again. His bottom throbbed with the heat and pain from his spanking, and the various glances of curiosity and disgust from the other shoppers continued to drive home how misguided this attempt at rebellion had been. Well, he was reformed now, out of necessity more than desire, and he was going to be a good little boy for as long as he could help it, no matter how embarrassing it would be. Embarrassment was better than embarrassment and pain. He would do anything to avoid living through another day like today. Which was exactly what Mrs. Warren wanted, of course. And she had been doing this long enough to recognize the determined look that now shone in Doug’s eye. She smiled. This had been a successful outing today, and one that would probably carry her new client through several good weeks of what she considered diaper-training for the future. The next thing she’d probably have to deal with from Doug were his hormones. She smiled. Mrs. Warren could handle that, too. She loved her job. Chapter 8 Doug packed his diaper bag Sunday night for his return to work without objection. His bottom and ego still hurt from the day’s events, and he was in no mood to put up a fuss. Still, he was more than a little uneasy about the following day, when he would head to work while wearing his diaper and carrying his pink diaper bag. He was worried about people at the lab finding out, since the job and the graduate program to which he expected it to lead seemed to be all he was living for now that the rest of his normal life had been taken away. So while he obediently placed three fresh diapers, powder, baby wipes, and lotion into his bag, his mind was racing for ways to make himself less conspicuous. Some ideas were obvious. He’d decided that, starting tomorrow, he’d go in earlier and leave later. That way he could get to and from his lab unseen and wouldn’t have to answer questions about his bulging, waddling, rustling, or his babyish bag. Appearing to work harder wouldn’t hurt his admission prospects, either. In some ways he was very lucky to have the job he had: working alone, being able to wear what he wanted and essentially to decide what hours he’d work. He had some lab meetings to attend each week, but not many. These features were excellent, since he now wanted to avoid other people as much as possible and needed to wear something practical. He had bulky pants and a long sweatshirt that might work. Good thing winter’s coming, he thought. It would be way harder to wear the kind of bulky clothing that was necessary if it were hot. It was the prospect of diaper changes that really made him anxious. His floor in the lab building had one unisex bathroom in one of the more public areas. It wasn’t uncommon to see lots of people on his way there or back, or for there to be a line. He couldn’t carry the diaper bag, or, even worse, a diaper and some wipes, into the bathroom! It hadn’t been until after Mrs. Warren left Sunday night that Doug struck on the idea of plastic grocery bags in which to carry clean diaper down and dirty diapers back. If it was around lunchtime when he went, he could even say he was just stopping off on the way to lunch. He felt much better after he pre-bagged his diaper changes for tomorrow. With any luck, he might be able to get away with this without anyone finding out. Monday morning Doug woke up, dry as usual, and tried to get ready as normally would any other morning, except that this morning he had to wet himself intentionally before his shower, and rediaper himself afterward. He left his apartment early, and indeed got to his lab early as well, before anyone else had arrived. Relieved, he tucked his telltale bag safely into an unused lab cupboard and got to work. He was very conscious of how often he wet himself, as leaks might be horribly embarrassing, and so he checked his diaper several times before deciding at 10:30am that he’d better try to change himself. So he put his clandestine operation into action and was thrilled when it seemed to go off without a hitch. No one really seemed to notice. From there the rest of the day was easier. He had to change himself once more, in mid-afternoon, and he waited until the halls were relatively deserted before waddling home. All in all, the day had been much simpler than he could have hoped for. And the next several days went well also, in that he seemed to manage to keep his forced infantilization a secret from his coworkers. Mrs. Warren dropped by every day or so “to say hi.” Wednesday night she commented that she’d been told that Doug was being a good boy at work, and that she was glad to hear it. Doug’s heart stopped. Mrs. Warren had an informant at work! Someone in his last bastion of normality knew about him. He didn’t say anything to Mrs. Warren (sitting down was only now becoming painless), but his mind once again raced, as he tried to pinpoint who his informant could possibly be. He should have known he’d be spied upon. But now he worried that the informance might tell others. Everyone might already know by now! But he couldn’t ask, because that would give it away. He was forced to watch everyone on Thursday, looking for clues that they might be on to him. But if anyone knew, they were quiet about it. No one appeared to watch him or react any differently than in the past. Thursday night, as he was sneaking home after he’d thought everyone had left, he turned a corner and ran right into his lab director, Dr. Stillman, a tall, strikingly beautiful woman in her late thirties, with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was also, not coincidentally, the admissions director for the doctoral program Doug hoped to enter next fall. “Ah…Doug, isn’t it?” she asked crisply as she sized him up in front of her. Doug tried to hide his bag behind his legs. “Keeping late hours, are we? Well, that can’t hurt. It’s nice to see someone working so hard for a change.” At this, she sort of chuckled to herself, and kept walking. Doug stood in the hall after she’d left and tried to figure out what she’d meant by that. It had seemed like a compliment, and yet she’d laughed. She always intimidated Doug, to some degree because he found her extremely attractive. Now, though, in his paranoid mood, he found himself wondering if his boss might actually be the informant: “working hard for a change,” she’d said. Maybe this had meant something else from what he’d thought. (This would worry Doug for a long time, and perhaps never be satisfactorily settled for him, since she never made any other similar comments and he knew he couldn’t exactly ask her directly.) Other than this incident, the rest of the week was uneventful, and Doug finished his second week of diaperhood smoothly. He was as obedient as he could be, and tried to wet and soil his diaper conscientiously. He settled into a predictable pattern of changing himself in the late morning and midafternoon, and he found that as long as he remembered to do that, he didn’t need to think about when exactly he wet himself. That seemed convenient to Doug, though he would discover later that it was yet another piece in the puzzle of his undoing. On Sunday Doug reluctantly and self-consciously waddled into the grocery story, scene of last week’s humiliation, spare diaper in hand. The diaper he wore was necessarily pulled up outside his shirt for the world to see. He wished desperately that he didn’t have to do this, but he knew he did. He tried to stare straight ahead and to ignore the stares of shoppers, and fervently hoped that no one he knew saw him like this. He walked over to the manager’s office and knocked on the door. “Well, look who’s back,” the manager observed when she saw Doug. “And you remembered how I want you to dress as well; that’s a good start. What’s your name, young man?” “Doug,” he replied, not wanting to get any more detailed than that. Luckily, it seemed as though that’s all she wanted. “Well, I’m Mrs. Johnson, Doug,” she said. “As you recall, I told you I’d have one of my employees look after you while you’re here. Let’s see who’s available.” She yelled over to the pretty young cashier who had laughed at Doug the previous week. “Emily, have you had your break?” The young girl nodded. “Just came off it. Sandy has my register.” Emily walked over, obviously staring at Doug’s visible diaper as she approached. “Good,” Mrs. Johnson said. “This is Doug. Perhaps you remember him from last Sunday: he wet his pants in Aisle 3.” “Of course I remember,” she said, giggling. Doug blushed. It had to be this girl. “Well, this week he’s more suitably dressed, as you can see. But I’d still like for you to babysit him while he shops. Follow him and supervise his behavior. If there is any misbehavior at all, you are to tell me immediately, and you or I will take care of it.” “What do you mean?” Emily asked Mrs. Johnson, looking at Doug with amusement. “I mean that if he needs it, one of us will give him a spanking back in the stockroom. He got one last week, and it seemed to work well.” Doug’s head pounded with embarrassment. Doug saw that Emily was having trouble controlling her laughter. Mrs. Johnson, however, ignored her. “Now, Doug, can you tell when you’ve wet or messed in your diaper?” she asked. Doug frowned. Of course he could, but why did she have to bring that up now, other than to embarrass him? But he had to answer. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he answered with a very shy glance toward Emily. “Good. I expect you to tell Emily if it happens so she can change you. Emily, you can use the stockroom for that as well; just ask me for the key. And check his diaper several times each visit while he shops, just to make sure: we don’t want a scene like last week because of overflow. If he’s wet or dirty and didn’t tell you first, bring him back here. He’ll need a spanking for that, too, if we think it was intentional.” She turned away from them. “That’s all. You two come back here when you’re done shopping. Be good,” she added, presumably for Doug’s benefit. They turned away and headed toward the rows of empty carts. “Did you really get a spanking last week?” Emily asked him immediately. Doug hung his head. “Yes,” he said quietly, hoping she would drop the subject. He picked a cart and they headed for the produce section. “How come?” Doug stopped and looked at her. She was half smiling, obviously amused at the idea of his being spanked like a bad little boy. Her blue eyes sparkled, and Doug found himself staring into them for a moment, briefly bewitched by her young beauty. Then he shook himself. She was probably eighteen or nineteen at the most, several years younger than he. He thought that was not appropriate. And besides that, she knew he was wearing a diaper. Even if she were of a proper age for him, he wouldn’t have stood a chance with that humiliation. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he said, finally, and turned to look through a bin of apples. But she was insistent. “No, really. Why?” When Doug didn’t speak, she said, “You wouldn’t want me to give my manager a bad report, would you?” Doug turned back to her, fear suddenly in his eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” “Maybe, maybe not,” she said coyly, her eyes twinkling. “I’m the babysitter. You’d better behave.” Just what he needed, Doug thought. A teenager on a power trip. “Look,” he said. “It’s really embarrassing.” Perhaps he could play on her sympathy… And there was silence for a moment. So she does have a heart, Doug thought. Thank goodness. But then, “Was it because you wet your pants?” She asked it simply, apparently not to tease him, and without malice. She just didn’t seem to recognize his discomfort. She only seemed very curious and slightly amused. The question was, why was she so curious? She ought to be grossed out. Could she actually be turned on by this? He’d always dreamed of meeting a female who could share and participate in his diaper-wearing. “`Cause my little brother, Joey, got spanked every time he wet his pants,” she went on. “Oh, really?” Doug replied with disappointment, now irritated that he should be thought of in the same vein as her stupid little pants-wetting brother. Well, now he knew how she thought of him. He should have known; that would teach him to get his hopes up. He moved on, collecting his groceries. “Yeah, he’s twelve now, and it doesn’t happen anymore,” Emily told im. “But he used to do it a lot, and Mom would spank him for it. Probably couldn’t help it, I guess.” She followed him in silence for a couple of steps. “So do you still wet your pants a lot?” she asked. “No,” Doug answered with more annoyance. As pretty as she was, she was turning out to be a pest. If she wasn’t interested in him, then she was just being cruel, he decided. “But you did last week, and that’s why your mom spanked you, right?” Once more Doug stopped to glare at her. “Look, she’s not my mom, okay? Please just drop it.” “She’s not?” Emily asked, wrinkling her brow. “Who is she then?” Oh, crap, he thought. I can’t go there. We can’t get into this. He shook his head. “It’s really complicated.” They were now passing the back corner of the store and the hallway with the bathroom where Doug had been soundly spanked the week before. This distracted Emily from her interrogation, and she remembered one of her duties. “We should check your diaper!” she chirped happily, tugging at Doug’s sleeve. Reluctantly he left his half-full cart and followed her into the hallway, where they couldn’t be seen by other shoppers. “Okay, pull down your pants,” Emily said, obviously trying to sound mature. However, her enthusiasm and amusement shone through her facade of professionalism. “Look, you really don’t need to do this. I know for a fact that it’s dry,” Doug offered hopefully. She put her hands on her hips indignantly. “I’m the babysitter, not you. You’re just the baby. And I want you to pull down your pants so I can see your diaper.” Doug still hesitated. She was so young to be ordering him around. “Do it now,” she said sharply. Doug knew that in this situation, as in many others, he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t know whether or not she’d really make good on the threat to spank him, but he didn’t want to find out. So he unbuckled and unzipped his jeans and self-consciously lowered them to the floor. “Awwwww…that’s a good boy,” Emily said, in a babyish tone. She laughed at her own efforts at humor. Doug blushed again, not finding it quite as funny as she apparently did. Emily leaned over and inspected the little indicator stripe, which indeed verified Doug’s assertion of dryness. Despite his embarrassment, Doug felt an erection start to build inside his diaper. It had been a difficult 2 weeks since he had come, and it didn’t take much to get him hard. For the first time Doug was thankful for the extreme thickness of his diaper, which probably prevented her from noticing. Suddenly she surprised him by reaching out and grabbing the rear of his diaper, squeezing and massaging it gently. She then did the same to the front. Doug was so shocked he didn’t know what to do. What if she felt his erection? “Just making sure,” she explained to him as she straightened up again. But she said it with a smile that told Doug for the first time that maybe she was actually interested as much in what was inside his diaper as in its state of wetness. So what was she “making sure” of? Whether he was wet, or whether he was hard? he wondered. Or had he just imagined that little supposed flirtation? To Doug’s frustration, since he wanted some clarity, Emily didn’t let on one way or another. “Okay, that’s good. You can pull 'em up. We’ll check again later.” She’s apparently a very professional tease, he thought, reassessing his baby-sitter. If she really liked him and had just made a little move on him, she wasn’t letting on to it now. But why would she tease him? he argued to himself as they returned to shopping. Could she possibly know about his ICP’s prohibition of sex, and was she therefore being purposefully cruel? No, he thought, that’s impossible. His heart quickened. I think she really likes me, he thought excitedly. And she’s actually turned on by my diapers! Oh my God, he thought, unable to comprehend the ramifications of actually having found someone who was turned on by infantilism in general, and his infantilism in specific. He’d dreamed his whole life… His musing was cut short as Emily was back on the attack. “So if you don’t wet a lot, then why do you have to wear diapers?” Doug didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of anything other than the truth that would be believable. Emily didn’t seem to mind his silence. She kept on jabbering. “My brother never had to wear diapers for wetting his pants. Well, I mean, after he was about four. He kept right on wetting his pants and his bed, and Mom started spanking him for it. She said he was old enough to know better. And Joey would cry, but then he’d keep on wetting. Maybe he should have been put back in diapers, like you…” She trailed off, apparently lost in thought. And then: “Did it hurt?” Doug was lost. He had been picking out some laundry detergent. “Did what hurt?” “Your spanking. Did it hurt?” “Yes,” Doug admitted quietly. His inhibitions had dropped slightly since he’d determined that she really did like him. In a relationship as potentially important as this one might be, he could maybe afford to open up a little. “I bet it did,” Emily said enthusiastically. “Did you cry?” Whoops. Too far, a little voice in Doug’s head told him. He thought he could possibly talk about some of this, was dying to get some of it off his chest, and was thrilled someone like Emily existed. But he was deeply embarrassed about some aspects of it, and this was one of them. “Emily, I’m kind of upset about the whole thing, okay? Can we please not talk about this stuff anymore?” Emily nodded, and was silent as they made their way toward the dairy products. Then she couldn’t resist asking just one more question. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Doug stopped and stared at her. So much for subtlety, maturity, and professionalism. “No,” he said simply. “Oh,” she replied. “I’m in college. Are you in college?” “Not any more,” he told her. Whew, he thought. At least she isn’t a minor. He finished shopping. When Doug was just about ready to check out, Emily said, “Time for another check.” He immediately tensed up. Here we go again, he thought. I was so close to getting out of here. They walked back to the rear hallway, Doug’s anxiety and erection simultaneously rising. What would happen this time? Would it…COULD it…lead to anything? He found himself both hoping that something sexual would happen and scared that it might. He’d always dreamed of involving his diapers in a sexual relationship, and this girl was so beautiful! It was better than he could have hoped for! But then there was the omniscient, omnipotent Mrs. Warren, who had expressly prohibited any sexual activity. Emily, however, was the boss here! If anything happened, it wasn’t his fault, right? He was torn and confused as she again asked him to pull down his pants. Now he was also scared of being discovered: his erection felt huge. He wondered if even his thick diaper could insulate it from her touch. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Doug held his breath tensely as Emily, smiling, reached out and caressed his diaper, first in the back, and then, more extensively, in the front. She got a funny look on her face, as if she was considering something. Doug thought he heard her laugh quietly. He was about to say something, anything, to ease the tension, when she abruptly stopped, stood, and pronounced him dry. Doug let out his breath. Emily had him pull up his pants, and they went back up front, where Doug paid for his groceries. Then they stopped by Mrs. Johnson’s office. “And were you a good boy today, Doug?” she asked him, though she clearly meant the question for Emily. Doug was pointedly ignored, and he felt like he was three years old, which he noted was becoming a common occurrence. Emily nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He did as he was told. I checked him twice, and he was dry and clean both times.” “Good for him. Okay, Doug, we’ll see you back next week. Same deal. Thanks, Emily, you can get back to your register,” she added before turning away. “No problem. No problem at all. G’bye, Doug,” Emily said. She flashed him a meaningful smile. “I’ll see you next week.” At this, she laughed hysterically and walked away. “G’bye, Emily,” Doug said to her back, and sighed as she walked away. She definitely turned him on, even if she was criminally nosy. The boys at her school must drool over her, he thought. He took his groceries to his car, and spent the rest of the day trying to decide how her obvious fondling of him had been meant. Her parting comment, too, was an obvious reference to the activities she seemed to be planning for next week. He was already worried about it, but couldn’t help[ but be excited as well. He had a lot to think about this week. Who knew what his next shopping trip would bring? Chapter 9 Week three brought more of the same to Doug, who had definitely given up trying to fight his “ICP” for the time being. It was annoying as hell to deal with the diapers, but his life hadn’t ended yet, either. No one seemed to know yet, outside of Mrs. Warren, the grocery story women, and the mystery informant at work. His role was pretty easy, actually: just use his diapers mindlessly and change them several times a day. And it wasn’t that inconvenient, except for the messy diapers. Otherwise, it was nice not to have to go all the way to the toilet to relieve himself. Now, if he felt ever the slightest twinge in his bladder, he just relaxed a little, and it went away. He was determined to enjoy the few perks to this setup. He had his BM’s pretty well regulated to the evenings when he was in the privacy of his apartment, and though he hated having to sit in them first, he usually showered immediately after that, so all in all cleanup wasn’t that difficult either. But he disliked the bulk of his diapers, and having to walk funny (though he noticed this less and less). One thing he was definitely more aware of was always having to think about his diapers in public. Were they visible? Could people tell? When other people were around he always had to think about whether he could move safely without being heard. He learned to carry his keys around and jingle them loudly if it was quiet enough that someone might hear his plastic crinkling. He was paranoid, but so far he still didn’t have any evidence that people suspected. The shaving was becoming old hat as well. At first it had been very itchy; now it was better. He shaved his groin daily and his bottom every other day, since it was more difficult. While it was humiliating to “have” to do it, he ended up being happy he’d done it every time he had a messy diaper. He did laundry once a week, and only after Mrs. Warren had looked through his clothes and sheets. He received several more huge packages of disposable diapers each week, and slowly worked his way through them, turning in smelly trash bags full of old ones. He had started paying for his diapers after the first week, which sort of made him mad. Sure, it was a reasonable price for what he got, but he didn’t want what he got. Still, everything that third week went smoothly, and everything seemed to be getting easier and slightly more tolerable. Except. Except it had now been three weeks since he’d had an orgasm. An all-time record since his early teens. As the days had dragged on, he’d thought about it more and more, until by now almost every waking moment (and many of his dreams, too) were spent thinking about sex. In the past, dreams and fantasies had focused on two different themes: “normal” heterosexual intercourse and his secret diaper fantasies, which often involved, ironically, being forced into diapers by an older woman. Now, presumably because of his present situation, these two separate topics seemed hopelessly muddled in his mind. If he had regular sex with a woman, she first had to take his diapers off. He never “fantasized” about being forced into anything anymore, but Mrs. Warren inexplicably showed up in several of his sex dreams. He tried to focus all of this energy productively, which for Doug meant trying to figure out a way to sneak in some masturbation, unknown to Mrs. Warren. He would have thought about actual sex with somebody, but the question was, with whom? He didn’t really like the idea of anonymous sex, and who would want to get into a relationship with somebody still in diapers? Emily inevitably kept creeping into his mind, but he shook the thought away. He didn’t want to think about what kind of punishment that might lead to. Masturbation was simply much safer and easier logistically. Even so, he was extremely paranoid that Mrs. Warren would find out somehow (and with good reason!), so his scheme had to be brilliant. He knew she had an informant at work, so he couldn’t just do it in the bathroom there, where he’d either have to flush the evidence (suspicious to an informed observer, because why would a diapered boy need to flush?) or throw it away somewhere, and Doug felt sure that Mrs. Warren would find any evidence he left. Doug’s first instinct, of course, was to whack off into his diaper, since he always found that most satisfying. But since his diapers were inspected specifically for this, Doug had to force himself to forego this pleasure. There was that chemical thing in the drains, and laundry was, of course, checked beforehand, which ruled out a lot of options at home. He decided he had to think of some way to smuggle home some paper products, hide them, use them, and then think of a foolproof disposal method. It was during this third week that he finally figured it out. He thought it through, over and over, and carefully considered every angle, but couldn’t find a flaw. On Friday, then, after his afternoon change at work, Doug wadded up two small balls of toilet paper and stuffed them in the toes of his shoes, which made them uncomfortable, but not too bad. At least they still fit. It was perfect! No one, not even Mrs. Warren, would think of looking there, and if she did, he could simply say that the paper was there for comfort purposes, because his shoes were too big. It was nearly plausible as an emergency plan, but he was sure he would not need to use it. After he wore home the toilet paper, he found the other tools necessary for his plan: a half-full cereal box, and an empty Coke can. He would store the toilet paper in the bottom of the cereal box until he needed it, then stuff it inside the empty Coke can for disposal. It was brilliant. Now he was finally ready. And it was wonderful. It (not surprisingly) didn’t take long, and he had a lot of difficulty keeping himself quiet (just in case). Three weeks of near-constant excitement were released in a cataclysmic but all-too-brief orgasm, the evidence of which he was careful to contain entirely within the toilet paper and cram into the soda can. He peered inside and was thrilled when he couldn’t see the contents of the can at all. It couldn’t have been more perfect. He put the can in the trash amid leftover spaghetti with sauce, just to make examination of the can that much less convenient. And that night he slept very well indeed. The weekend went well, too. Sunday, when he returned with trepidation to the grocery store, he was both relieved and disappointed to learn that Emily was home, apparently sick, so she couldn’t babysit him today. Instead, Doug was followed around by a homely, quiet girl who gave him weird looks but didn’t bother him at all. Twice, she’d gone as far as to ask him if he needed to be changed, but when he’d answered no both times, she’d said okay and dropped the subject. The next week came and went without so much as a peep from Mrs. Warren, even after the trash was hauled away. Doug was overjoyed. He’d done it! He’d outsmarted her, and had accomplished this task in the most important of situations. This, of course, meant that he could do it again, and again, probably, though he didn’t want to push his luck. Every week or two would have to be enough, though he wanted far more. But the consequences of being found out were too dire. Not only would he get another fearsome spanking, he thought, but he’d lose this, one of maybe two bright spots in his current life. He desperately needed this system for his release, so he had to be very careful. And with any luck, it was now finally conceivable to him that he could actually complete this hellish six months of babyhood. It was now Friday of the fourth week, and Doug had thus completed a month of his ICP. Not much was happening around the lab, so Doug took the opportunity to walk home for a leisurely lunch in the privacy of his apartment, where a diaper change was less of a hassle. A month! he thought as he walked home. It seemed impossible that he’d spent a whole month as a baby, but it was true. He hadn’t been out of a diaper for more than fifteen minutes at all, and hadn’t used a toilet the whole time. He wasn’t enjoying it, certainly, but he was getting used to it a little. He was definitely still enjoying the convenience diapers offered. He hardly thought about when he peed these days: as much trouble as cleanup was, he loved not worrying about holding it in until he got to a bathroom. He didn’t think that carefully about it, because it didn’t seem important to him, but if he had, he would have noticed that he still had to consciously relax his bladder and bowels to empty them. But he was doing it far more often and instinctively. There were lots of things he still didn’t like, however. He hated limiting himself to one orgasm a week, but he wanted to be very conservative about that, especially at first. He had a good system, but he knew that Mrs. Warren was smart, and if he blew it he might never figure out another feasible system. It was too precious. Most of all, however, he hated subjugating himself to Mrs. Warren, acting like a two-year-old around her. He was still very self-conscious about having to call her “Mommy,” and it galled him to have to walk on eggshells around to show her how obedient he was. The only thing that kept him doing it was the knowledge that if he didn’t, he’d get something which pleased him even less: a spanking. And so, even though he was constantly humiliated by the fact that he really was literally trying to be a good little boy to avoid a spanking from his Mommy, it was worth it to him to do so. Doug continued to be frustrated by not figuring a way out of this mess. It was beginning to look more and more like he’d have to ride the thing out for the full duration of the six months. This failure was in itself embarrassing , but he was beginning to see the wisdom in not fighting Mrs. Warren. These last few weeks had been degrading, of course, but nothing like his experience with the wet bet that day. And without a spanking since then, the time had passed more quickly, too. If he could just ride this out for another five months and stay on Mrs. Warren’s good side, which meant being a good boy, he could count on resuming his normal life in April without so much as a single spanking before that. This plan, because of its relative ease and safety, was becoming more and more attractive to him. With his secret masturbation scheme in place, he could almost imagine making it that long. His musings ended as he arrived home and started to make his lunch. His diaper was soaked (he’d made it through the morning without a change) but he was hungry, so he put off changing himself until after lunch. He had just finished making a sandwich when he was surprised by the sound of a key in the lock of his front door. Mrs. Warren! he thought. Was he in trouble? She didn’t ordinarily visit him during work days, even when he was home for lunch. “Doug?” he heard her call from the hall. “Yes, Mommy?” he answered, gritting his teeth slightly at the humiliation of having to call her that. “We need to talk,” Mrs. Warren told him as she entered his living room, with him following closely behind. “I called your machine,” Doug said defensively, hoping to head off any problems. “I told you I was coming home for lunch.” “Oh, yes, that was a good boy,” Mrs. Warren said, sitting down and putting her keys in her big black purse, which seemed to be more full than usual. “That’s how I knew to find you here. No, that’s not what this is about.” “Was I bad?” Doug asked worriedly. After he’d just considered how lucky he was for not having been spanked recently, this seemed a big disappointment. Could she know about his secret? But surely she’d appear much angrier if she knew… “Well, no, I don’t think so,” she replied, “unless you purposefully turned in too few messy diapers last week.” “No, I…I…” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to; are you sure?” His mind raced. What was the punishment for that? “Yes, I’m sure,” she said sharply. “And don’t question me again. My inspectors told me about it this morning after analyzing your diapers from last week. You only turned in seven messy diapers when you were supposed to turn in nine.” “Oh,” Doug said. He’d thought he’d done okay last week. The big question was: did he get a spanking for that? “I…don’t know what happened. I’m really sorry,” he started. “Well, I’m sure it wasn’t intentional. Your total number of diapers was fine, so we know you were good about using your diapers. So you don’t need a spanking,” she reassured him. “But I am worried that you seem to be slightly constipated. Do you know why I’d care about that?” “No, Mommy,” Doug said, though he was thinking, because you’re intrusive and perverted. “Well, constipation is actually a cause of a special kind of incontinence called overflow incontinence.' So we always have to make sure our clients stay very regular. That's why we have the messy diaper quota, you know." "Oh," he said to be polite. He wasn't constipated, and he wasn't really interested. Seven dirty diapers was pretty regular, for goodness sake. "And that's why any time you turn in too few messy diapers, as you did, we want to make sure it doesn't become a problem." Whatever, Doug thought. What the hell was the point of this? He wasn't constipated, though he *was* very hungry by now. He needed to move her along so he could eat and get back to lunch. "Okay, well, I'll try to pay more attention this week," he said, hoping that that was what she was looking for. It wasn't. "Not so fast, little guy," Mrs. Warren said, smiling. "You obviously don't remember your rule list. We need to spend the next day or so making sure you aren't at all, shall we say, plugged up.’” Doug didn’t like the sound of that. “I call it Bowel Encouragement. Does that ring any bells?” Doug shook his head, beginning to dread the answer. He hoped it wasn’t diaper juice. “Well, we just help you along a little by putting something in your bottom every so often for a day. It’s guaranteed to work.” Well, out of everything that could be happening, that didn’t sound too bad. Still, he wasn’t sure he could trust Mrs. Warren. “Does it hurt?” “No, not really,” she replied. “Let’s go get you started. Have you had a bowel movement today?” “No, Mommy,” Doug answered. He had himself on a nice regular evening schedule for BMs during the week. Mrs. Warren smiled with anticipation. “That’s fine. Let’s go upstairs and get you changed into a dry diaper. I see that one’s about soaked.” Doug looked down, but saw no signs of leaking through his pants. He was amazed at how Mrs. Warren could tell these things so accurately. I mean, I’m wearing pants, he thought. Is my diaper still that obvious? Can everyone tell? Or is she just that good? Mrs. Warren led him upstairs, aware of the impact her comment would make on Doug’s confidence in public and on his opinion of her. In truth, she simply had seen him arrive home and assumed he’d not yet changed himself. After a whole morning at work, she’d knew he had to be soaking. With considerable embarrassment, Doug lay back on his changing pad and allowed his pants to be pulled down and his diaper changed. Mrs. Warren didn’t do this for him often, and he was still self-conscious enough about it to make the experience painful. Mrs. Warren ran a baby wipe around his diaper area, cleaning his hairless groin carefully. “Very nice job shaving, Doug,” she said. “You’re turning into a very good little baby for Mommy. If we can get this constipation problem cleared up, we might consider taking you off of probation in a month or two.” Probation! He’d forgotten he was on probation. Recently it hadn’t been that bad being on probation, he reflected, as Mrs. Warren placed a clean diaper under his hips and powdered him heavily. But if he could be off of probation, then maybe he wouldn’t be spied on at work, or maybe his garbage wouldn’t be sorted, or his diapers counted. Then he could really get away with stuff! He tried to busy himself thinking how nice that would be while Mrs. Warren finished readying him. His attention was redirected back to Mrs. Warren as she dug into her purse and retrieved a latex glove and a small unlabeled container, from which she removed two cone-shaped pellets. After donning the glove, she had Doug spread and lift his legs, after which she unceremoniously stuck the two pellets up past Doug’s anus, well into his rectum. Doug was caught off-guard by this new experience, and he sucked in his breath sharply, unconsciously also clamping down his sphincter in self-defense. This effort had no effect on Mrs. Warren’s finger, which had accomplished its mission and retreated quickly. Mrs. Warren had his diaper taped up before Doug even knew what was happening. His bottom felt a little funny with those things inside, but it didn’t hurt or anything. Doug was relieved. That was it? She had him stand up as she walked over to his dresser and removed from the top drawer a pair of his white plastic panties. She handed them to Doug and told him to put them on, which he did. Then she went back to her purse and, to Doug’s surprise, removed from it another pair of plastic panties. These, too, Doug obediently pulled on, wondering idly what the point of two pairs of panties was. He noted as he adjusted the waist that there was something unusual about the elastic band, but before he had even realized that there was a small chain embedded in the waistband, Mrs. Warren had reached over and snapped closed a tiny padlock. Doug looked up in surprise. Why did he need to be locked in? But Mrs. Warren just smiled and said, “There you go. Now, here’s the plan. After a while you’re going to want to soil your diaper. I know you’re incontinent, but my advice to you is to try to hold it in for at least an hour and a half. “The reason for that is that I want these suppositories to stay inside you and melt completely. If you just poop them out now, they won’t help you at all. So the rule is, keep them in until they’re melted completely; you won’t be able to tell, of course, but an hour and a half should do the trick. I’m going to check your diaper when I change it in six hours, and if I find any part of the suppository unmelted, I’ll know you didn’t get the full effect. If that happens, we go directly to enemas, which you will like even less. So for your comfort, I’d like to try the suppositories first.” Actually it was less for his comfort than it was to draw out the entire affair. Enemas were over too quickly. “Every six hours, I’ll come here and unlock you, let you shower if you need to, and put you in a clean diaper with two more suppositories. “In twenty-four hours, after four messy diapers, I’ll assume you’re no longer constipated, and you can get back to your regular life, no pun intended. Okay? Walk me downstairs,” she said brightly as she picked up her purse. Wearing nothing but his diaper and plastic panties, Doug accompanied her to the front door. “I have to tell you, Doug, that as important as this treatment is, I know you’ll appreciate my help over the next day. I’d like to hear you thank me for that help every time I see you through tomorrow.” She looked at Doug expectantly. “Thank you, Mommy,” Doug said quickly, though he wasn’t sure he meant it. At his response, Mrs. Warren smiled a wonderfully evil smile, said good-bye, and left his apartment, telling him she’d be back at six. Doug looked down at his bulky diaper, now encased in two pairs of plastic panties. He started to get a foreboding that the next day wasn’t going to be very enjoyable for him. He’d actually never heard of suppositories, but he hoped they didn’t work very quickly, because he had to work this afternoon! There wasn’t much to do, just a couple of assays in the lab, but they were timed, and he had to be there all day, until nearly six o’clock, to supervise them. What if he had a bowel movement at work? He had purposely avoided this until now, knowing that the smell would be hideous and difficult to control. He stared at the two pairs of panties he wore and felt a chill up his spine as he realized that they must be there for a reason. He was probably being set up for a disaster. Damn that woman! he thought. She must know the effect this might have. She was doing it on purpose. And now he was locked in! He couldn’t escape this at all now: judging by the double protection she’d given him, he was destined to have an enormous accident in a potentially embarrassing place, and there was no way to avoid it! He wanted desperately to expel those little pellets right now, before they could do whatever they were going to do. But that would apparently lead to an enema, which didn’t sound nice at all, and if he knew Mrs. Warren at all, probably a spanking as well. No, he didn’t have a choice. As bad as this day might get, he knew he had to face it. A glance at his watch told him that this escapade had already nearly made him late for getting back to the lab. So he wolfed down his sandwich and tried to find pants to cover himself, now that he was bigger than ever before. He got his longest shirt and tried it on. It seemed to disguise his diapered state, but when he walked, it tightened against his diaper with every move and made things very obvious, he thought. But that was the best he could do. He had to hurry. He got to his lab without having anyone comment on or stare at him, so he started to feel better about the afternoon still ahead of him. Until he sat down for the first time and suddenly felt a cramp in his belly. Uh-oh, he thought. It’s already starting? He hadn’t expected it to be quite this fast-acting. It had only been about thirty minutes since Mrs. Warren had inserted the suppositories. He sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on other things, but soon Doug could think of nothing but his bowels. He heard a familiar gurgling in his stomach, the same gurgling he’d heard a month ago in his bathtub. This was when he knew that this situation would get much worse before it would get better. He was again filled with the desire to push those angry pellets out into his diaper where they couldn’t hurt him, but still he resisted the urge. He wanted to get through this without making it any worse. The pain and urgency in his bottom got much worse when he got up twenty minutes later to turn off a gel he’d been running. He literally had to clinch his teeth as he stood working so as not to soil himself. By this point the contents of his intestines were screaming to be let loose, but Doug was now determined to go the distance. If he gave in to his urges now, on top of all of the misery he’d already endured over the last hour, he’d also probably be spanked and subjected to an enema. A co-worker came in several minutes later, and Doug tried to stay still, so as not to move and thereby give away his diapered status. But his friend noticed his obvious discomfort, and suggested he take the afternoon off. Doug nodded grimly but didn’t say anything. He knew that wasn’t really an option. If he went home “sick,” he’d have to tell Mrs Warren, whose remedy might be worse yet. To his relief his co-worker simply shook his head and left. Doug was sweating by the time ninety minutes were up. But he was elated: he had done it, and now he could relieve himself of this torment. Yet it wasn’t much of a victory, he knew, as he was now simply given the unenviable opportunity to mess his diaper at work and then stay in it for four and a half uncomfortable hours. His discomfort would simply shift to outside his body, with the added risk of someone discovering him. He was trapped and silently cursed Mrs. Warren again. He was beginning to realize (in part) how diabolical she could be. A minute later, when the next round of cramps struck him, he realized it didn’t matter what he wanted or who was to blame. As he nearly cried out in agony, he instinctively squatted down and urgently pushed what he could of his intestinal contents out into his diaper. And his bowels responded explosively. Doug couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation, momentarily luxuriating in the absence of pain and pressure. When he could, he stood up again and looked around. The lab room was empty, thank goodness. That experience had gone unwitnessed. But now what? How to hide the very full state of his pants? Doug made the unfortunate decision to sit down to think, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He felt his diaper’s contents squish and spread over his bottom and between his legs. This was indeed a mess! Once seated, though, Doug realized that if he stayed that way and didn’t move, the smell wasn’t too bad. So he just spent the rest of his day parked in his dirty diaper at his desk, periodically relieving himself as he needed, feeling no compunction to hold it in now. Luckily, most people seemed to have taken off early on this Friday afternoon, and he had only two further visitors to his lonely lab, neither requiring him to stand. He couldn’t believe his luck, if you could call it that, but after the rest of the day he’d had, he was grateful for any break he could get. He listened for the familiar and distant sounds of keys jingling and doors shutting as the rest of the employees left for the day. When all was quiet, at about five-thirty, Doug gingerly stood, picked up his relatively-useless diaper bag, and waddled out of his lab. Doug’s fear of being smelled on the bus convinced him to walk home, an uncomfortable trip that contrasted vividly with his walk to work this noon. Now, with every step he felt the largely liquid load in his diaper shift and squish, and the discomfort only increased over the fifteen minutes it took to get home. The only good thing was that it was nearly six when he arrived home, and he only had to wait a couple minutes for Mrs. Warren to show up. He couldn’t wait. It had indeed been a miserable afternoon, from start to finish. With the exception of his continence test, he’d never been so uncomfortable in his life, he’d never had such a full diaper, and he’d never had to wear a messy diaper for so long. He was thoroughly disgusted, and ready as never before for a clean diaper. Mrs. Warren was, as always, punctual, and unlocked the outer plastic panties immediately. She watched with an amused smile as he pulled them off. They were obviously dirty on the inside, a sign that his “accident” had overloaded his thick diaper and the first pair of plastic pants. Doug’s gratitude for the necessary protection this afternoon was tempered by the confirmation that Mrs. Warren had known exactly what would happen to him today. She tried to play it off as concern for his incontinence, but Doug was beginning to suspect that Mrs. Warren was enjoying his unhappiness. This was such a frightening thought that he pushed it temporarily from his mind. He remained conscious only of a desire to end his ICP at the end of the six months. While thinking, he also pulled the other panties off and untaped his loaded diaper. “Whew. That is a dirty diaper,” she said, chuckling. Doug didn’t share her good humor, for he was also embarrassed for her to see him in such a humiliating state, but he reminded himself that it had happened before. And like before, his mind was primarily thinking of getting cleaned up. He waddled carefully into the bathroom and showered, leaving his filthy diaper with Mrs. Warren to examine. She did, noting the absence of any remaining, unmelted suppository. That was a little disappointing to her for several reasons. It deprived her of the opportunity to “enemize” Doug, which she knew she’d enjoy. More importantly, however, it meant that he was still continent enough of bowel to hold significant pressure in for a long time. But she remembered that all of her boys, most of whom were perfectly on schedule, usually did fine for the first round. It was rounds two and three, which for Doug would come overnight tonight, when their increasingly unconditioned sphincters gave way and allowed their contents out before ninety minutes were up. Exactly when the boys control failed during this difficult day of bowel torture gave her important information regarding their “progress,” and this was the major reason that she put her babies through this rectal hell. Doug took his time in the shower, enjoying the sensation of being out of a diaper for a few minutes. His relief at having escaped the day’s earlier torment was all-consuming. He savored the feeling, and couldn’t really think about anything else. And this preoccupation with the present, like every other part of Doug’s Incontinence Control Program, was planned by Mrs. Warren. She had discovered that the more her clients were focused on detailed rules and demands, the less capable they were of seeing the bigger picture. Doug rightfully thought today’s experience was horrendous, but because it took all of his concentration simply to make it through the day, he couldn’t spend any time considering the larger purpose for the ordeal, which was to assess his progress toward incontinence. He was trying only to make it through each day without a spanking; had he known the stakes, he might have shifted his efforts toward avoiding Mrs. Warren’s long-term plans for him. But Doug was so focused at the moment, in fact, that he was completely shocked and dismayed when he emerged from the shower and saw another two pellets waiting for him in Mrs. Warren’s gloved hand. He’d forgotten that he had more to endure. “No, please, Mommy,” he whined. His bowels already ached. “I’m all cleaned out, I promise.” “Shush,” Mrs. Warren said, pushing Doug back on his changing pad. “No more backtalk. You’ll be done soon enough. We have to make sure.” Doug compliantly spread and lifted his legs, allowing himself to be powdered, invaded by the glycerine, and re-diapered. Mrs. Warren had two clean plastic panties for Doug to put on. Doug watched helplessly as she locked the outer one. He knew better than to object. “Do I have to wait six whole hours?” he asked, pushing Mrs. Warren as far as he dared. “Absolutely.” She packed up her purse. “But it’s so long in a messy diaper,” he whimpered. Mrs. Warren glared at him. “That’s enough, young man. Look at it this way: this is making up for all the time you didn’t spend in dirty diapers this week. Remember, now, same rules, if you don’t want an enema. Try to wait ninety minutes, and I’ll see you around midnight. I’ll wake you up if I need to. Now, I suggest you have some dinner.” She left, and Doug waddled downstairs to eat. This time, though his bowels were nearly empty, they were also still very irritated from the previous suppositories, and they reacted quickly and strongly to this new onslaught of glycerine. The cramps and discomfort started within five to ten minutes, and Doug nearly cried several times. This was so pathetic. He wanted nothing more than to control his own bowels, and he felt degraded, angry, and miserable that he wasn’t allowed to make his own decision about such elementary functions. Mrs. Warren would have been happy that his greatest desire tonight was craving the ability to mess his diaper when he wanted? Life for Doug had certainly changed. But once again he bumped up against that wall he now always faced: Mrs. Warren and her absolute power over him. Though his ego still rejected his current impotent situation, he knew he had to force himself to submit to her difficult will. So he gritted his teeth and tried to keep his diaper clean. Meanwhile, while his bowels churned away, he unconsciously (and vainly) searched for a way to rationalize his participation in this absurd ICP. If he could gain something, anything, out of this humiliating return to diaperhood, his self-esteem wouldn’t suffer as much. Perhaps, he allowed himself to think, Mrs. Warren had actually been right, and he had always been a little incontinent. That would make all of this worthwhile, and this pain a little more tolerable. If this were so, then he was in the right hands, and he should just relax and trust in Mrs. Warren’s experience with such matters. But even as he allowed himself to think this way, he knew it wasn’t true. Mrs. Warren was mean to him. His defensive ego was playing tricks on him, and that’s probably just what Mrs. Warren wanted to happen. He shook his head. He hadn’t been incontinent. Probably. He didn’t think so. But it seemed like things were more confusing these days, which frightened him a little in a vague way. He was, as always, able to reassure himself that, at the very least, it would all end in five months, and he could return to normality. There was still a finite end to this nonsense, a light at the end of the tunnel. Doug’s second vigil of the day ended just over an hour in, when he decided that maybe an hour really was enough to melt those little pellets, and that waiting longer would hurt too much. Plus, he started to admit to himself, he was getting tired of holding it in: he wasn’t used to such a strain. For the last four weeks, he hadn’t tried to hold it in at all; now he had diarrhea and was expected to hold it in all day long? No one could do that, he thought to himself, practicing some dangerous denial. He regarded his task as super-human, and something of which anyone would tire. So once again Doug filled his diaper with loose, brown, sticky poop, and he sighed and grimaced as he sat down in it to watch TV until Mrs. Warren returned at midnight. He decided to try to ignore his messy state, and, in fact, he was beginning to grow used to it. His acclimation to such infantile discomfort showed the effect this month had had on him. Mrs. Warren would have again been pleased. And she was. At midnight Mrs. Warren arrived and found Doug asleep on the sofa in his filthy diaper, and she smiled. She gently woke him, guided him as he sleepily headed upstairs, and helped him remove his panties and diaper. This time Mrs. Warren found what she was looking for in Doug’s diaper. Two small suppository remnants told her Doug was unable to maintain good sphincter tone for ninety minutes tonight. She was thrilled, but decided to put off Doug’s enema until the morning, when they would both be more awake, for the benefit of her heightened enjoyment and his increased misery. She didn’t want either one of them to sleep through it! Doug showered more quickly this time, realizing that there was no virtue in putting off the inevitable. It would just make everything last longer. He dried himself, and, still naked, headed back to his bedroom, where another diaper was waiting for him, as well as Mrs. Warren, who had two more suppositories ready. He groaned as she inserted them with a gloved finger, and then he obediently allowed her to tape him up and lock him in still another plastic panty. Mrs. Warren saw his exhaustion and beaten spirit and couldn’t resist a smile. “Halfway there, Doug. Twelve more hours.” He grunted in return. He was tired physically and mentally, and her encouragement couldn’t help him. “Sleep well. I’ll be here a little late, at about seven o’clock, so that I don’t have to wake you too early,” she said, stroking his hair gently. “Thank Mommy, and tell her goodnight.” “Goodnight, Mommy,” Doug wearily replied. “And thanks,” he said unconvincingly. Mrs. Warren had scarcely driven away when Doug felt his bowel cramp for the first time. He groaned and rolled over in bed, still feeling very sleepy but knowing that he should stay awake for a while. When this round of cramps subsided several minutes later, however, he quickly drifted off to sleep. In its weakened and exhausted state, Doug’s rectal sphincter was no match for the pressure of its contents as they built over the next fifteen minutes. And Mrs. Warren would therefore have loved to have seen the moment, not half an hour after she placed the suppositories, when Doug soiled himself in his sleep for the first time in more than twenty years. He didn’t even stir when it happened, and was so used to wearing messy diapers (and so tired from the events of the previous day) that he never awoke, and thus was surprised when Mrs. Warren had to shake him awake at seven the next morning. “Was Douggie a good little baby last night?” Mrs. Warren asked sweetly when Doug’s eyes finally fluttered open. “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said reflexively, before he had time to think about whether it was true. He sat up and knew instantly that he was messy. But when had it happened? “Well, let’s see, shall we?” Mrs. Warren unlocked his panties and helped Doug pull them down his legs. Then they untaped his diaper, and Doug looked with curiosity down between his legs to his clean-shaven groin, and the diaper underneath. It contained a little bit of poop and two well-formed glycerine pellets which hadn’t even come close to melting. Doug caught his breath. Had he fallen asleep? He stuttered a few unintelligible syllables before Mrs. Warren cut him off. “That’s enough. Looks like maybe we weren’t quite as good a little boy as we thought. Head on in there and take your shower if you want, and we’ll talk about it afterward.” Doug complied, shaking his head in confusion. How did that happen? he wondered. And now what would she do? She has to be kidding about the enema, that’s absurd, I’ve never had one of those and I’m not going to start now, he thought, even as he knew that Mrs. Warren didn’t break her promises. But it’s so drastic. Maybe she won’t make me. But when he returned to his bedroom, of course, there was a large clean bag of soapy liquid hanging from one of his bedposts, with a long tube snaking its way down to his changing pad. Mrs. Warren was holding a container of K-Y jelly and looking at him expectantly. “Doug, I’d like for you to lay down here for a minute.” Doug was scared. “Mrs. Warren…I mean…Mommy, do we have to? I mean, I’ll just try again with those suppository things. Please?” “Oh, don’t worry. We will: we still have one more try with those. But first I’d just like for you to come over here and lie down. Just for a minute.” He knew now that he couldn’t escape it, so he slowly approached the bed. “That’s a good boy. On your hands and knees, like a puppy dog, with your bottom down here. Good boy. Now drop to your elbows and put your head down. And spread your legs a little. Perfect.” Doug closed his eyes. He felt a slippery finger touch his bottom, and then felt a small firm object invading him. He involuntarily tried to clamp down against it but couldn’t. He heard a click as Mrs. Warren released the valve on the tubing to allow two liters of sudsy warm water to fill his bowels. Doug then felt a warmth in his abdomen and an unusual, nondescript feeling as well. Doug was happy to learn that it didn’t really hurt at all. It lasted for what seemed quite a while. Finally, the plastic object was removed from his bottom. Not that bad, Doug thought. Mrs. Warren said, “Okay, now just hold still for a minute.” As Doug waited he felt gurgling throughout his abdomen and wondered what would happen next. Mrs. Warren was considering whether or not to use the tampon at this point. She decided first to test Doug’s sphincter further. There would be time for the tampon later, and this could be fun. She had tried butt plugs in the past, but tampons did the same job and seemed to embarrass her boys even more. “Get up now, Doug.” He stood and found Mrs. Warren waiting with a pair of transparent plastic panties, which she helped him pull up his legs. “Two rules: first, you may not sit or lie down while holding an enema. It’s medically dangerous,” she lied. She’d learned that it was harder for her babies to hold it in while standing. “Second, to get maximum benefit, you should hold it in for twenty minutes. After that, we’ll put a diaper back on you and let you empty. These panties are just in case of an accident, but I certainly don’t expect you to need them. Okay, now run along. I suggest you make yourself some breakfast.” Doug nodded and headed downstairs as Mrs. Warren followed. He was feeling extremely self-conscious of his essentially naked state, and also of the weird feeling of plastic next to his skin. On the other hand, he thought twenty minutes would be no problem, compared with the hour and a half of suppository hell. Mrs. Warren sat down in the living room as Doug poured himself some cereal. Suddenly he got an unpleasant feeling in his belly. It was sort of vague when it started, but it made him call in to Mrs. Warren to ask what would happen just in case he couldn’t hold it for twenty minutes. “What usually happens when you break one of my rules?” she called back. “I’ll give you a hint: it involves my lap and your bottom.” Doug rolled his eyes in response, careful not to let Mrs.Warren see him do it. Everything was spankings with this lady… Suddenly Doug was dropped to his knees by a huge abdominal cramp and the strongest urge to defecate he’d ever experienced. It was urgent and commanding in a way that even the diaper juice and the suppositories weren’t. He simply couldn’t stop it. He moaned as his tortured bowels ejected the enema into his transparent panties. Mrs. Warren ran in from the living room when she heard his yelp, and upon reaching the kitchen door, stood and enjoyed the view as the water and stool graphically filled his panties. The spasm relented for a moment, and Doug tried to catch his breath. What was that?! He was dazed. He tried to clear his head, when suddenly Mrs. Warren yanked him by his arm, forcing him to stand. “Upstairs, young man. I’ll teach you to respect my rules,” she said angrily. “I…I couldn’t help it,” he stammered. “Please…it wasn’t my fault.” And then, again, Doug experienced cramps, cried out, and released more enema into his dripping panties. “Oh, you’re begging for it now,” Mrs. Warren snapped, forcefully pulling him over to the stairs and dragging him up them. “Wash yourself off and then get in here pronto,” she told him. “You’ve got two minutes to be over my knees, or you’re really going to regret it.” Doug was about to cry from pain, frustration, and embarrassment, but he hurried into the bathroom, carefully removed his soaking plastic panties, and stepped into the shower. He let loose another stream of enema, quickly rinsed off, then jumped out and dried himself perfunctorily. Still nude, he hurried into the bedroom, where Mrs. Warren sat stiffly in a straight backed chair near his desk. He stopped abruptly in front of her, suddenly realizing what was about to happen. “Let’s go, little boy,” Mrs. Warren said. “You’ve only got seconds before I really get angry.” So Doug bent himself awkwardly across her lap, grabbed the chair legs as he had previously been instructed, and waited. His bare bottom tingled expectantly. He hoped that she’d go easy on him, but she sounded angry. She wasn’t really angry, of course. As she began to paddle his bottom with her strong hand, she was nearly gleeful about Doug’s apparent progress. He’d only taken about three minutes, far below average in this, the most accurate gauge of actual incontinence she had developed. Most boys at this stage lasted eight to nine minutes, but Doug had folded quickly, evidence that he was enjoying and using his diapers properly. Wonderful news. A spanking opportunity was icing for her. And she enjoyed this icing, letting her steel hands fall sharply on Doug’s reddening bottom, hearing the vain whimpers of protest dissolve into sniffles and then into outright crying. She felt a certain satisfaction as she delivered this assault. Doug wiggled helplessly, just like all the others. Grown men indeed, she thought with disdain. It was times like this that made her feel that anyone who would allow any of this to happen to himself actually deserved it. These boys, who let her take over their lives and dictate their most basic functions, who allowed her to usurp every last vestige of their independence and dignity, surely must benefit from her discipline. If they’d let themselves fall this deeply into her power, she thought, some part of them must be every bit the little baby she forced them to be. They desperately needed to be punished for their pathetic passivity. These thoughts spurred ever greater spanking effort, and she continued until she was sure Doug’s bottom would be sore for several days. Then she dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, where he lay crying. She went into the bathroom and refilled the enema bag, though this time she only put one liter of soapy warm water, since he probably hadn’t even fully expelled the last one. She forced Doug, who was now only sniffling, back on the bed and told him to lie like a puppy dog again. At this point he started crying all over again at the recognition that he would receive another enema. She smacked his bottom sharply, and he quickly resumed the position amidst his tears. She administered the enema, this time inserting the large tampon she had brought with her earlier. Doug felt the plastic removed from his bottom, but to his surprise couldn’t close his anus. Something was still there, and it quickly swelled with the water from the enema, expanding and filling his anal canal completely. Doug turned his head around, hoping to see what it was, but there was nothing to see. He looked to Mrs. Warren for an explanation, and she nearly laughed out loud at his confusion. Doug didn’t understand what was happening, but his bottom still stung enough that he didn’t want to ask any questions, so he remained unsure of what she’d done. She made him put on another pair of transparent panties, this time just for show, since nothing would get out of his bottom this time, and led him downstairs, where he tried to finish making his breakfast. The heat from his burning bottom built up inside of his panties, making it difficult for him to concentrate. This time, when the cramps hit him, he again let out a yell and doubled over in pain, but as his intestines tried to expel the enema, they met the impenetrable resistance of the tampon, and, indeed, nothing came out. Doug was surprised and a bit upset, since the pain therefore continued unabated. The cramps eventually let up, but resumed after another minute, and by the time twenty minutes were over, Doug was crying again. He never even finished making his breakfast. Mrs. Warren gently led him upstairs and replaced his panties with one of his disposable diaper. He had never been so overjoyed to get into one. Mrs. Warren reached down the back of his diaper with a gloved hand and pulled the tampon’s string, gently working it out of Doug’s bottom. She withdrew her hand as quickly as possible, leaving the tampon behind, since she knew from experience that the client’s anal sphincter was probably totally worthless at this point of the exercise. And sure enough, a liter of liquid immediately and uncontrollably gushed out into Doug’s diaper. So again Mrs. Warren changed Doug, who was nearly catatonic after everything he’d been through. He didn’t put up any resistance and probably wouldn’t have even noticed the fact that she inserted the last two suppositories before taping him up again, except that she pointed it out and told him to try not to poop for ninety minutes. After locking him one final time into the panties, she finally left for the morning, not to return until after noon. Doug was not surprised to feel the pellets ooze helplessly out of his bottom into his diaper less than fifteen minutes later. He didn’t care. He went to sleep. Not even his sore, hot bottom could interfere with his exhaustion. When Mrs. Warren returned six hours later, she told Doug once again to clean himself up, which he did. Doug was remotely upset when Mrs. Warren told him that they weren’t done yet, that he needed one more enema before it was all over, since he hadn’t melted these pellets either. But he had run out of emotion, and felt his misery only dully now. For twenty minutes following the administration of the enema, he did find the energy to cry, as colonic spasms shook him repeatedly. But then it was over, and Mrs. Warren cleaned and rediapered him, told him to count his messy diapers from now on, and then left him alone. Finally, he sat numbly on his sofa, relieved to be wearing nothing but a nice, fresh diaper. His bowels felt totally worn out. He couldn’t believe what had happened to him over the past day, so he just tried to block it out and watch TV. Five months, he thought. Five months. Chapter 10 Doug’s recovery from his “bowel encouragement” took the rest of the weekend. He was worn out. He was definitely not up to facing Emily the next day in the grocery store, and was greatly relieved when arrived to find her (again) not there, this time because it happened to be her day off. Another uneventful trip around the store with the quiet homely girl, who, while not providing the sexual thrill that Emily did, also did not fill him with anxiety, either. He was happy to get home and relax for the rest of the day. The work week, too, was unremarkable. Doug did find himself filling his diet with fiber, trying to avoid a repeat performance of last week when he apparently turned in too few messy diapers. This had the unpleasant effect of significantly increasing the mess in each diaper, the number of messy diapers, and the amount of cleanup necessary. It also led unavoidably to several embarrassing accidents at work, which Doug was horrified about, but after several tense, messy trips to the restroom, hoping nobody smelled him, he decided that either everyone was being remarkably nonchalant about the whole thing, or else they really weren’t noticing. The increased risk of discovery, however, still seemed worth the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to undergo any more “encouragement.” By midweek he’d recovered enough nerve to plan another orgasm. He made sure the elements were in place, and then carefully executed the plan. He enjoyed another wonderful moment of pleasure (even if it was alone). And once again, everything went flawlessly, the evidence apparently being missed by Mrs. Warren’s legion of suspicious inspectors. This ended Doug’s fifth week on a high note, as he again congratulated himself on his genius. He would now force himself to wait another week before attempting another orgasm. It was difficult but necessary, and better than nothing at all. As Sunday once again approached, he started to get worried about facing Emily. One of these weeks Emily had to be there. And when he arrived at the grocery store, he was filled with anxiety to learn that this would be that week: Emily would escort him today. Over the weeks, he had often struggled with what he should let happen today. Though his hormones were kept at a sky-high level by his infrequent sexual release, and though the thought of Emily raised this level even further, there were two excellent reasons not to allow himself to get involved with her. First, their age difference, while not criminal, was odd. He would feel a little like he was robbing the cradle. Second, if anything happened, it (like everything else, apparently) would certainly get back to Mrs. Warren, and there was no telling what would happen. His bottom had just stopped being sore from last week about three days ago, and he wanted to be very good right now. He was turning into a wimp, he knew, but he told himself he should avoid sex. He’d get his life back in a few months. So he’d made the decision not to let anything happen. His only worry was that Emily might make this promise difficult for him to keep. He half dreaded (and half craved) her checking his diaper. Would she try to take things further than she did last time? “Hi, Doug!” she chirped as she walked up to him. She gave his diaper, necessarily visible outside his shirt, a little upward tug, apparently to make sure it wasn’t falling down. Doug felt the motion in his genitals, and was distressed to observe that they were already betraying him by becoming aroused. Hopefully it wouldn’t become an embarrassing problem later. “Have you been a good boy?” she asked playfully as Doug tried to start shopping. Doug nodded, unwilling either to lead her on or to divulge any more embarrassing details about his situation. “Any more spankings?” she asked, with obvious interest. Doug bit his lip. Last weekend’s activities were the last thing he wanted to talk about. Emily saw this written on his face. “Uh-oh,” she said, laughing. “Somebody got his bottom spanked.” She paused, clearly waiting for Doug to say something. But he didn’t. “What was it for?” she asked, still smiling. No answer. “Did it hurt?” No answer. He was aware of how much spankings seemed to turn Emily on, and his lifelong desire for a “playmate” or a “Mommy” tugged at him to grab this opportunity. Could he ever find someone like this again if he passed her up? But, he reminded himself that his fantasies were no longer fantasies, but realities, and they were also no longer fun. Her interests, he was surprised to realize, didn’t really turn him on right now, though her interest itself did. At another time the irony would have amused him, but right now it hurt. “So you don’t want to talk about it, huh? That’s okay for now. It’s probably time to check that diaper of yours anyway. Come on.” Doug followed her to the hallway with trepidation. He wanted to be good. He dutifully pulled down his pants, and as always, felt his erection mount inside his diaper. He was helpless to stop it. The only issue was whether she would feel it today. He tried to think of other things, terrible brutal things, gross disgusting things, complicated scientific things, anything, but try as he might, he felt his erection still growing. He watched Emily’s face as she began to stroke his diaper, first in back, quickly, then in front. Sure enough, before long, a look of surprise crossed her face, and suddenly her fingers probed more actively and deeply through his diaper. Doug tried to ignore this, but he couldn’t help thinking how nice it felt. Even through his thick diaper, it felt so good to be touched. He felt his excitement continue to rise. He looked down at Emily, whose eyes were closed, obviously enjoying this immensely. Suddenly she stopped and said, “I can’t quite tell by feeling the outside.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “I’m afraid I’ll need to check the inside of your diaper, Doug.” She reached up to untape him. Doug panicked. This definitely crossed the line, he thought. In a reflex movement, Doug’s hands caught hers before she could accomplish her task. “Emily…please don’t. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Emily’s eyes flashed up at him in sudden anger. “What are you talking about? Who are you to say what is or isn’t a good idea? I’m the babysitter, and if I say I need to check the inside of your diaper, then that’s what I’ll do.” She reached out again toward Doug’s waist. Again he stopped her. “Please,” he pleaded. “We both know where this is headed, and even though I want it too, I have to tell you that it’s a bad idea.” She was hurt, he could see. She hadn’t expected him to rebuff her seduction, and by her face Doug could tell that her ego was damaged. To Doug’s alarm, however, she seemed to convert this disappointment into anger towards him. “Oh, yeah?” she challenged. “I don’t think you should be talking to me like that. I bet you want to apologize. Since I like you, I’ll give you one more chance. Go ahead. I’m waiting.” “Emily,” Doug pleaded. “Please believe me. It’s not that I don’t want to see where we could go with this, but I just can’t.” Emily’s face hardened. “Fine.” She stood, turned sharply and strode away, back toward the store. Doug sighed. Getting turned down was always unpleasant, and this had been no different. It was worse because he did want to be with her, to explore the potential between them. But he had been good, and he felt proud of himself, if extremely frustrated sexually. Mrs. Warren, he thought, would be proud when he told her. As Doug pulled up and buckled his pants, careful once again to let the diaper be visible above them, he wondered idly where Emily had rushed off to. Probably to pout somewhere, he thought. Or… Doug suddenly panicked when he realized where she had probably gone. As quick as he could waddle in his bulky diaper, Doug hurried toward the front of the store. He caught sight of Emily far ahead of him, in full stride. Doug tried to catch up to her, but she was walking very quickly, and his own diaper slowed him down a lot. “Emily!” he whispered frantically. He had to stop her from doing this. But she didn’t so much as turn her head as she strode ever closer to the customer service desk where the manager stood. “Emily, please!” Doug hissed at her. If he could stop her, he might be able to appease her. He hadn’t thought she would do this. But she had no intention of giving him another chance. Doug watched in horror as Emily reached the service desk. He slowed down and approached carefully. “Excuse me. May I please have the key to the stockroom?” “Sure, sweetie. For a diaper change or a spanking?” A smile grew on Mrs. Johnson’s face as she looked from Emily to Doug, who now stood several feet away, listening and looking scared. Finally some fun with this boy. Emily was fuming. It sort of frightened Doug to see her so angry. She was still pretty, but suddenly she also looked formidable. “A spanking. The little baby wouldn’t let me check his diaper.” Mrs. Johnson nodded in sympathy. “Well, you’re the babysitter. The rules were laid out clearly to begin with, so it’s your decision,” she said as she found the appropriate key. “Do you think you can handle it alone, or would you like some help?” Doug’s head pounded and his heart was sinking into the floor. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Emily’s brow furrowed. “Well, this first time I guess I could use some help. And then the next time I’ll try it alone. I’ve just never done this before.” Once again Doug was being totally ignored. He wasn’t even asked about his side of the story. It’s like his opinion didn’t even merit attention. He began to feel dizzy and disoriented. Mrs. Johnson smiled slyly. “I guess that’s true, isn’t it? Always on the other side. Well, welcome.” Doug tried to listen, but they weren’t making much sense. “Of course I’ll help, dear. There are some helpful hints everyone should know. I’ll be glad to give whatever advice I can.” “Thanks. I’d be grateful, and he’ll really benefit from your experience, I’m sure. Are those the keys?” Mrs. Johnson nodded as she locked the door to her office behind her. “Yes. We can get started immediately.” The two females, without a glance at Doug, started back toward that infamous rear hallway. Doug didn’t move. It seemed silly to pander to their abusive whims. They weren’t his mommy, and they wouldn’t even talk to him. He wasn’t about to cooperate, when he knew it would just lead to a spanking. He just watched them walk away together, and felt more than a little irked that they should expect him simply to accompany them willingly back to the slaughterhouse. As if he should “know his place” or something. It was insulting and stupid. He heard their discussion continue. “Now, Emily, if you’ll recall, I believe spankings should follow as soon after naughty acts as possible, to assure that the child remembers for what he or she is being spanked. If you…” At this point Mrs. Johnson stopped and glanced backward down the long aisle to where Doug was standing. “Whoops. It seems we’ve lost someone.” Emily nodded. “He’s not very bright, is he?” Mrs. Johnson shook her head. “Perhaps not.” In a louder voice obviously meant for Doug’s ears, she called, “Come along, young man. We can’t very well do this without you.” Doug didn’t budge. He was thinking he should just walk out now while he had the chance. But Mrs. Johnson knew just how to motivate him. “Come on, dear. I’m sure you don’t want my report to Mrs. Warren to be any worse than it already will be.” Damn! Doug thought. He should have guessed they were good friends by now. That, unfortunately, sealed his fate. He no longer had a choice about cooperating. He hung his head and trudged back toward them. He still had a chance at damage control: if he was good for them, maybe they wouldn’t call Mrs. Warren. “That’s better,” Mrs. Johnson said as he reached them and they restarted their short march. “As I was saying, Emily, if you wait too long, the child may forget what he has done wrong.” “I hurried,” Emily said. “Do you think it’s too late?” “I don’t know,” Mrs. Johnson said as they reached the back hallway. She opened the storeroom with her key. “Why don’t you ask him?” “Okay,” Emily said, smiling wickedly at Doug. “Doug, do you remember why you need a spanking?” This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for, a chance to tell his side. “Yeah, right. Mrs. Johnson, what really happened was, I had already let her check me,” Doug said to Mrs. Johnson. “She’s lying to you. What she really did was…” “Here’s something else that’s good to learn,” Mrs. Johnson interrupted Doug to tell Emily. They entered the dark stockroom. “Never tolerate arguing or backtalk. The spanking is never subject to negotiation. That just distracts the child from the lesson to be learned. He’s probably easily confused.” Doug’s mouth hung open at this injustice as Emily smirked at him behind Mrs. Johnson’s back. She knew she’d won. “You simply need to tell the child that he is going to get a spanking now, no matter what. Then remind him why he needs it, in case he forgot, and inform him that backtalk will only lead to a longer and more painful spanking for him. Why don’t you practice saying that to Doug?” she suggested, flipping on a light to reveal shelves of boxes and piles of empty, flattened cardboard. Doug rolled his eyes in disgust, which luckily went unnoticed. “Doug, I don’t tolerate any backtalk, and we’re not going to talk about whether or not you need a spanking. You are definitely going to get a spanking now, because you wouldn’t let me check your diaper like a good baby. Do you understand?” Doug stared at her. She couldn’t really expect him to play along. “Answer her, Doug,” Mrs. Johnson prompted. Doug nodded sullenly. Mrs. Johnson swiftly reached around and smacked Doug’s diapered bottom. “You treat us with respect, young man, or you won’t want to sit down for a week. I want to hear a ‘yes, ma'am' or ‘no, ma’am’ from you when you answer our questions. Is that understood?” “Yes, ma’am.” Doug hated this. Stupid, evil women. “Good. Now answer Emily’s question.” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug told Emily, his voice trembling slightly with frustration. “Good boy,” Mrs. Johnson said to Doug. To Emily, “See how I did that? Swift and appropriate punishment that a child like Doug can understand, coupled with instructions on how to avoid more punishment.” She turned and indicated a chair which sat near a wall. “Now let’s get going.” Emily walked over and seated herself stiffly in the chair. She clearly enjoyed playing the role of an angry mommy. Doug couldn’t help wondering why it was that she seemed to enjoy hurting and abusing him. On a more practical note, he was beginning to hope that Emily’s inexperience would make this experience less painful than the spankings of Mrs. Warren. After all, he thought, it had to be less painful than that. “Now, dear, the first issue is what position to use. I, as you know, favor the lap position, not only because it’s humiliating for him, but also because you really have good physical control of him as well. It is also a convenient position from which to deliver a good, hard spanking, which is, of course, your goal. For some reason, I find it to be the most emotionally satisfying position as well.” “Come lie over my lap,” Emily commanded Doug. “Not so fast, sweetie. You want to do this to his bare bottom, right?” Emily nodded enthusiastically. “Then you need him to pull down his pants before you get him on your lap. Otherwise you’ll have an awkward time. The diaper may be removed either before or after he bends over your knee. I like to untape or unpin it and pull it back once he’s there, though, so that the front of the diaper is still there to protect your lap. It’s not uncommon to have little children let loose in the middle of the spanking because they get so upset, and the last thing you want is to emerge all wet from a satisfying and effective spanking. It can ruin a perfectly good spanking.” She looked at Doug, who was taking in this scene but hardly believing it was happening. A spanking lesson, with him as the subject. “Has that ever happened to you, Doug?” Doug stared at her. He couldn’t believe he was being asked this question. The absurdity of the situation washed over him. He wanted to laugh. But her eyes remained on him and grew hard. Doug remembered her earlier admonition, and said, “No, ma’am,” as politely as he could. “Well, it might today. Maybe you just haven’t been spanked hard enough,” she commented ominously. “Go ahead, dear,” she said to Emily. “Pull down your pants, young man,” the girl called out to Doug. Doug obeyed reluctantly. This was unlike any of the experiences he’d had thus far. This was so academic, so clearly not motivated by anger or justified by his behavior. Yet the painful outcome would be the same. They even appeared to be having fun. It was so unfair: this time, he knew, he had done nothing wrong. In fact, he had been trying to obey a rule. And yet, here he was, pants around his ankles, about to have his bottom paddled by this spoiled teenager who was just mad because Doug hadn’t acquiesced to her sexual demands. His life was so unfair. “Now come over here,” Emily told him, and he slowly tried to shuffle his pants-clad feet toward her, until he was standing in front of her. “Oh, Emily,” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed. “This is a good time to show you another trick to use with him. It works even when he knows it’s coming.” She had Emily turn her chair to the side so that Doug was on one side of her lap. Doug watched uneasily, not sure of what would happen. “Good. Now notice that because his ankles are essentially tied together by his pants, he has almost no balance. You can grab a wrist and pull, and he’ll topple right into place on your lap.” Suddenly Emily reached up, grabbed Doug’s wrist, and pulled, and even though Doug knew it was coming, he found himself helplessly falling over, until he landed on Emily’s lap, his diapered bottom high in the air, his feet off the ground. “Good girl,” Mrs. Johnson told Emily, who returned a broad smile. “See how easy that is? And once his pants are down, he can’t really do anything about it. Part of a spanking is also showing the child just who is in control, and by easily turning even a big boy like Doug over your knee, you’ve taught him an important lesson about your relationship.” From Doug’s position he couldn’t see Emily’s smile but he knew it was there anyway. “Now just enjoy this feeling for a moment. You have him well-balanced on your lap, and he can’t really touch anything to help him get up. See how helpless he is? Doug, try to stand up.” Doug was more than willing to try. He flailed his legs around, trying to touch the ground, but Emily learned quickly to elevate her knees in response to his efforts, and Doug was shocked and scared to see how correct Mrs. Johnson was. He couldn’t really use his hands because of the odd position. He was totally helpless. The women laughed at his struggle. “This is fun!” exclaimed Emily as she watched Doug squirm. “Yes,” agreed Mrs. Johnson. "I figured you might like this. Now, Doug, settle down so we can get on with this. Emily, the next step is, of course, to pull his diaper down. Just reach around and undo the tapes on either side…that’s right…and just pull back…and voila! That’s what you want to see! I usually tuck the back of the diaper under here in the back so it doesn’t get in the way. Good. “Now we need to talk about the actual spanking. You’re right-handed, so he’s turned the right way, with the head toward the left. With little children it doesn’t matter, but his bottom is angled because he’s so big. The stroke itself should involve your whole arm, right from the shoulder. Bring your hand down from up high: use gravity to help. This is an athletic endeavor, and you need strength and endurance. Luckily, as the pitcher for your softball team, you ought to be well-prepared to give a long, hard spanking, but make sure to pace yourself. Don’t waste all your strength at first. Lasting soreness in the bottom, which I think helps reinforce the lesson long after the spanking is over, is accomplished more by the length of the spanking than by the intensity. The intensity just makes it more fun.” Doug wanted to disappear. It was just too horrible: to have them looking and talking about his bare bottom, and how best to hurt and embarrass him. "You can use various implements, of course: belts, spoons, a hairbrush, but as you know, I favor the open palm. It’s most convenient, since you always have it. I think it’s good for the child to know that you’re always capable of disciplining him; you don’t have to run off and find a big wooden spoon before he’s sorry he did something wrong. The noise it makes is also most satisfying. "Distribution of strokes is another personal style matter. I don’t think it matters, as long as the strokes are hard and the spanking is long. Vary the location, or don’t; either way, you can teach him an effective lesson. Make sure most end up on the lower bottom, near his thighs, where he sits. He’ll remember those most. “Finally, you need to decide when to end your spanking. Often it’s when you get tired, but since you’re such a conditioned athlete, that may not happen before you should stop.” Doug groaned audibly at this. He had to get a pitcher. Just his luck. "Don’t go only by his crying, because smart children try to use that to convince you they’ve learned their lessons when they haven’t. Spank past the cry and well into the uncontrolled wailing stage when they’ve lost composure and have given up. You’ll just have to learn when that is. Today, I’ll try to help you to tell. “Okay, any questions?” Doug had many, but he wasn’t being asked. Why him? he wanted to know. Would he really reach “the wailing stage?” Was she going to spank hard? How long would it last? How would he… SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! Three blows in quick succession. Doug gasped, since he somehow never expected it to be as painful as it was. And suddenly, then, there was a pause, as Mrs. Johnson interrupted. “Good start, but put more of that powerful shoulder of yours into it, and slow down slightly, so that he feels each stroke.” SPANK!! “Owww!” howled Doug uncontrollably. She’d hit him very hard. “There you go!” cheered Mrs. Johnson. “Keep it up. He’ll cry before too long.” SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! The blows came regularly now, and Doug cried out with each one. The pain burned intensely, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Out of frustration he flung a hand back to protect himself. “Aha!” he heard Mrs. Johnson cry out, as the spanks stopped temporarily. Then he felt a searing pain in his shoulder and realized that his arm was being twisted violently, up near the back of his neck. He screamed in surprise and pain. “At this point, Emily, you can either threaten him with a longer spanking, or with keeping his arm up like this throughout the entire spanking. It’s obviously quite painful yet easy to do. Try it.” And then Doug felt his arm, weakened and vulnerable in this position, released briefly, and then yanked up even higher behind him. “Owwww!” he yelled in protest. “Wow. That is easy. You’re right. Doug, do you want me to hold your arm like this until your spanking is over?” Doug had begun to whimper. The pain was tremendous. “No,” he whined. He felt the pain worsen as he simultaneously received a smack on his bottom. She could spank him at the same time? Uh-oh… “No, what?” “Ohhhh…No, ma’am,” he moaned. “That’s better. Then keep it away from your bottom, okay?” “Yes, ma’am.” Doug felt his arm released, and he brought it down gingerly. SPANK!! He yelled again in pain. SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! It wasn’t long before Doug’s helplessness, pain, and frustration built up in a noisy cry. He didn’t see Emily glance up at Mrs. Johnson and smile, and he missed Mrs. Johnson smiling back and nodding. “Keep going, sweetie. Don’t be satisfied with these first tears,” she yelled over the noise of the spanks and Doug’s crying. So they kept going. For Doug, the pain only mounted, and soon crying wasn’t enough. He gasped and yelled and cried all at once, his protests indeed turning into a kind of wail. At this point the women again exchanged knowing glances, and Emily happily redoubled her efforts, glad to see results so quickly. After what seemed like hours, when the spanking still showed no signs of letting up, Doug grew tired, and his cries sank into a continuous, sad whimper. Finally Mrs. Johnson nodded to Emily, who gave Doug’s inflamed bottom one more huge swat and then stopped. Doug’s whimpering continued uncontrollably. “Very nice, honey. You can be sure he’ll remember this well. At this point, with a child so big, you may just want to help him roll off your lap onto the floor, where you can rediaper him. He probably lacks the coordination right now to stand.” Emily nodded and extended her legs, letting Doug roll/slide down them onto the floor. He did, however, leave his diaper on her lap, and when Emily looked down at it, she erupted in a joyous squeal. “Look! I did it! I did it!” Mrs. Johnson looked, and sure enough, the diaper was yellow and wet where it had been white and dry before. Doug, still crying softly on the floor, also peered up and saw the wet diaper. He was surprised, as he didn’t at all remember it happening. But he told himself it would have happened to anyone who went through that spanking. Denial is often a powerful tool. “You sure did, Emily,” Mrs. Johnson was nodding her head approvingly. “Excellent job. You’re obviously a natural at this. Of course, you should be,” she said, smiling. “It’s in your genes.” Doug nearly choked. He stopped crying and stared, for the first time seeing the resemblance between them. Could it be? “You’re right about that, Mom,” Emily was saying as she wrapped up Doug’s wet diaper. “Maybe he’ll learn from it just as much as I did when I was little.” Doug blinked back his tears, trying to accept this information. But he found it hard to concentrate on such enlightening news in his exhausted and painful condition. “I don’t know, honey,” Mrs. Johnson laughed. “The situation’s a little different here; you’ll just have to trust me on that. Anyway, where is the diaper he brought with him?” “I guess it’s still in his cart out in the store,” Emily replied. “Why don’t you go get that and bring it back so we can get him dressed?” “Okay.” In a moment she had returned with the diaper, along with some powder and lotion as well. “I thought these might come in handy. They’re from aisle seven.” Mrs. Johnson smiled at Doug, who sat, sniffling, on the floor. The cold cement felt good on his hot, red bottom. “One of the benefits of being a manager.” Doug very weakly smiled back. He watched as the teenager who had first been his babysitter, then his seductress, then his disciplinarian, opened his diaper and spread it on the floor. She looked up at her mother, and said, “What we really need is a changing pad.” Mrs. Johnson nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Maybe our baby boy can remember to bring one next week so his little tushie won’t be so cold. Do you think you can remember that, young man?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug muttered. He was thinking how dreadful it would be to come back for abuse like this weekly. “For now, though, cement will have to do,” Emily said. “Now bring that little red bottom over here, and let’s get you into this nice diaper.” Not about to object at this point, Doug scooted himself over onto the diaper and laid back against the concrete. “Ooh,” cooed Emily, as she reached out to touch his groin. “What pretty smooth skin the baby has.” Doug looked down and suddenly remembered that he was bare down there. The heat of the spanking had distracted him. He was now terribly embarrassed to have Emily see him like this. Worse than that, however, was that she was reaching out to touch him. He held his breath as she began stroking his hairless crotch, rubbing in some of the baby lotion she’d brought. Despite the embarrassment and the remaining pain, the touch felt very good to Doug. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her hands on his thighs, on his bottom, on his genitalia. It felt especially good on his hot bottom. She rubbed, or actually, caressed, him thoroughly, and in Doug’s sexually deprived state, it didn’t take much to induce some venous congestion in a particular region, announcing itself quite proudly, despite the pain and embarrassment he felt. Emily squealed again. “Look, Mom, it’s his little pee-pee! I guess you like your babysitter, don’t you?” she teased. Doug was mortified. But, then, it felt so good. So he was torn when Mrs. Johnson said, “Alright, that’s enough massaging there, Emily. It’s not nice to tease the little boy. Let’s just get his diaper on. I’ve got some things to do in my office.” So Emily quickly powdered Doug and pulled his diaper up between his legs, taping him in securely. Then she had him stand, and she pulled up his pants and buckled them, careful to tuck his shirt inside his diaper so that the diaper stuck out visibly above his belt, as it had when he’d arrived at the store. “Just continue his shopping, I guess, Emily, for now. But come see me before you check out.” With that Mrs. Johnson walked out, and Doug and Emily followed, but not before Emily flashed him a smile and whispered, “Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, little boy. Guess next time I check your diaper you’ll be a little more cooperative.” Doug didn’t say anything. He just rubbed his diapered bottom, hot under the padding and plastic. The shopping proceeded without another incident, though Doug did have to put up with comments from Emily like, “Just think, every time you sit down this week you’ll think of me,” and “By the way, what do you use to get such a nice close shave?” followed by an outburst of giggling. But he knew better than to argue. And without too much fuss, he finished his shopping and stopped with Emily at Mrs. Johnson’s desk on the way to check out. “Oh, good, you’re here,” Mrs. Johnson said when she saw them. “Doug, I talked with your mommy, Mrs. Warren, and she wants you to bring home a slightly different load of groceries than the one you’ve selected. Don’t worry: it won’t take any more time. I’ve already had someone gather the items for you. They’re also already bagged and waiting for you, ready to go. You’ve been through enough already. All you need to do is give us a check for $37.35, and you can get on home.” Doug was, of course, surprised, and more than a little alarmed. What kind of groceries would Mrs. Warren pick out for him? He looked to his right, where Mrs. Johnson had indicated, and there was another cart standing alone, with several full bags in it. He couldn’t see what was in them. He had a feeling that he was being set up for something, but he couldn’t imagine what. At least it wasn’t more expensive than his regular groceries, and he didn’t have to spend any more time shopping. So he got out his checkbook, wrote a check, and handed it over to Mrs. Johnson. She smiled at him, which he was learning wasn’t always good for him. “Oh, just one thing: it’s asparagus you don’t like, right?” Doug nodded slowly at her, trying to figure out how she knew and why she was asking. He hoped it was so that she hadn’t picked out something he wouldn’t like. “Yes, ma’am. It makes me gag.” She smiled again. “Good, then we’re fine. Take care this week, Doug, and we’ll see you next Sunday.” “Yeah,” Emily chimed in. “I’ll see you next Sunday,” she said with a meaningful glance. Uh-oh, he thought. I don’t want to go through this again. He’d have to figure out something to say or do before then. For now, though, he just nodded and left, pushing his new cart of groceries out to the car. The plastic grocery bags were tied up, so he still couldn’t see inside. He tried to open one as he put them in his trunk, but the knots were too tight. He’d need to cut them open to see what they were. One thing was certain, however: they were very heavy. Doug climbed into his car, and his bottom protested intensely as he sat down. Damn, he thought. I hate spankings. Chapter 11 He pulled into his apartment complex and was disturbed to see Mrs. Warren’s van there. He cautiously opened the door to his apartment, and heard Mrs. Warren upstairs. This seemed like a good sign, since she wasn’t so angry that she was waiting at the door to give him another spanking. He knew she knew about his spanking at the store, and would be angry, but if she wasn’t going to spank him, he could probably tolerate it. Still, he wanted to avoid facing her, so he brought in the rest of the groceries, setting them on the counter in the kitchen. He was about to cut one of the bags open when he heard Mrs. Warren behind him. “I heard someone was a bad little boy at the grocery store today,” she commented. “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said meekly. He wanted to appear contrite and not in need of another spanking. He wanted to tell her he’d been good, but had a hunch it would get him into more trouble than just admitting wrong-doing. “Then what happened?” Mrs. Warren asked him, mostly to embarrass him, since she already knew. Doug looked down, ashamed to say it, even if she already knew. “I got a spanking, Mommy,” he murmured. “That’s what I heard,” she agreed. “It seems like someone forgot who he was for a little while. You forgot who was the little baby and who was the babysitter in charge of you. Is that what happened?” No, he wanted to say. But just to get past this embarrassing scene, he said, “Yes, Mommy.” She smiled at his passive acceptance of her interpretation. He was making this easy. “Well, maybe we need a little reminder of what a little baby we are. Luckily for you, I happen to have just the thing to help.” Doug looked up at her suspiciously. He hoped this wasn’t going where he thought it was going. “Come on upstairs, and I’ll show you.” She led him to his room, where several pairs of footed pajamas were displayed on his bed. They were all fuzzy, with babyish-looking bear imprints on the chests. Worst of all they were all an infantile pastel pink color. Mrs. Warren watched him as he stood, mouth open, gaping with shock and disappointment at his new sleepwear. “All yours,” she said pleasantly, "for a nice wholesale price. I’m sure you’ll be happy to pay it, since they can replace whatever else you were wearing to bed. And I know you’ll appreciate how they’ll help you remember your ICP role better. "They’re warm and comfy, with snaps down the front, in the crotch, and down the legs so you can change yourself easily. You wear one every night and for naps. And I will check on you to make sure you’re being a good baby. “Now come back downstairs and see what else you can do to help.” He walked downstairs with her, a bit numb from the shock of those pink sleepers, but also a bit worried about what he might find down here. “Of course,” she continued, “I would have thought diapers would have been enough, but if a client needs help, I can certainly provide it.” They walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Warren opened the cupboard. Doug was shocked to see his entire cupboard of glasses filled only with baby bottles and nipples. Mrs. Warren smiled and pulled open a drawer under the counter, exposing a stack of pink and yellow bibs. “And just to drill it into your thick little head,” she said, grabbing a pair of scissors, “you’re going to eat like a baby, too.” She cut open one of Doug’s grocery bags, showing Doug the case of Gerber’s baby food inside. Doug gasped. She opened another bag, showing him another case of the same. “This, and only this, is what you will eat for the next seven days. You must finish it all, and you may not have more. So plan carefully, and make it last. And yes, you will be punished if there are any problems with this. That is your food.” And here she cut open the last bag, exposing a case of dry baby formula. "And this is the only thing you are allowed to drink,” she continued. “There is plenty here, and you are welcome to drink as much or as little as you like of this. But you may not have anything else to drink, not even water.” Doug continued to stare, open-mouthed. What did THAT stuff taste like?! “By the way, I’d advise you to mix it with this Metamucil if you’re having trouble meeting your messy diaper quota. I doubt there’s much fiber in here. Obviously, you must wear a bib for all meals, and drink your formula from these bottles. I’ve checked your refrigerator, so I know what’s there. I’ll check again at the end of the week,” she finished. “Any questions?” Doug wanted to cry. But he didn’t want to object. In a way he knew he should still be grateful he wasn’t getting a spanking. To her, he whispered, “No, Mommy.” “Good. Call me before dinner, and I’ll come check on you. Have a nice afternoon.” Doug was left alone to stare at his punishment. He was not happy about this: could he even tolerate eating the baby food, let alone the formula? Maybe it depended on what flavors he had. He suddenly got a bad feeling, remembering Mrs. Johnson’s strange question at the store. He peeked in the bag. There was an assortment, but at least a quarter of the baby food was strained asparagus. That was just too much. Doug sat down on the kitchen floor and cried. How could they be so mean to him? What had he ever done to deserve it? This punishment, like his earlier spanking, was especially frustrating because it came after he had tried to be a good boy, much as he hated it. It seemed like he couldn’t win. And forcing him to eat asparagus, which he really did gag on, simply seemed cruel. But what could he do about it? It always came down to that. And the answer today, he knew, must be the same as any other day: nothing. He had to obey. He’d come pretty far in this program, farther than he thought he could come, and if he could just hold on a few more months, it would all be over. Before dinner he dutifully called Mrs. Warren, who arrived in time to help him with his first baby meal. He chose a yellow bib with a bunny on the front, the most innocuous of the choices, and tied it around his neck awkwardly. He sat down with three jars of baby food, which Mrs. Warren had “kindly” helped him to pick out, telling him he should choose a meat, a vegetable, and a fruit. He stared at the labels she chose: liver, asparagus, and bananas. Next to these was a bottle of warm formula. He opened the jars and smelled the first, liver. It smelled putrid. It couldn’t be edible. But Mrs. Warren was watching with a big smile on her face, so he pinched his nose and gulped down a bite. It still tasted horrible, even without the smell. But he grimaced and kept going. By the end of the first jar, tears ran down his face. He interrupted each bite with a suck from his bottle, which, although not appealing, was nonetheless better than the baby food. Mrs. Warren cheered him along the way, adding to Doug’s humiliation by snapping several pictures of him in this new degradation. Doug knew that these would be added to the others, and used if he ever decided to rebel. He fought his way through the asparagus, gagging several times when he accidently caught a whiff of what he tried to force down his own throat. Finally, with some trepidation, he tried the banana. That turned out to be pretty good, relatively speaking, he thought. The consistency could have been better, but it was otherwise palatable. He finished his meal meekly, received congratulations from his “mommy,” and retired to watch TV after she left. He was still hungry, so he brought in his bottle and sucked on it until he got sleepy and wet. He changed his diaper, and put on one of his new pink sleepers. He wasn’t surprised to find that they fit perfectly, and though the thought of how Mrs. Warren had gotten his measurements passed fleetingly through his mind, he ignored it. Her ability to know and control every aspect of his life did not amaze him any more. Before going to sleep for the night, he stared at himself in the bedroom mirror. He couldn’t really believe what he saw. Before him, where two months ago had stood a grown man, now stood what looked like a little toddler. Today he’d been spanked and diapered by a stranger, had eaten baby food, worn a bib, drunk formula from a bottle, and was now staring at himself dressed in a fuzzy pink sleeper, the bulge of his diaper clearly visible in his groin and his bottom. He shook his head. What else could possibly happen to him? And could he manage to make it through this week? He could, as it turned out. But the days dragged on forever, it seemed. He ate lunch at home every day, since he couldn’t possibly wear a bib or drink from a bottle at work. Every meal was an ordeal which repeatedly reminded him never to question the women around him who wanted to humiliate him. This week essentially taught him that pride had become expendable to him. He’d much rather eat palatable food than to raise any more objections. His planned orgasm this week was even more wonderful than last week, because in addition to the physical sensations he experienced, the event also was coming to symbolize a measure of sweet defiance for him, however brief or insignificant. It was now the only aspect of his life over which he exerted even a minimal amount of control. He enjoyed getting away with such a big infraction in the face of the all-powerful Mrs. Warren. And once again, the plan was executed flawlessly. The following Sunday Mrs. Warren asked him if he’d learned his lesson. “Yes, Mommy.” “Good boy. You can go back to eating grown-up food and using grown-up glasses for now. But I think we’ll keep wearing the bib for all meals at home and your cute little PJs for bed, just as a continuing reminder. Maybe then you won’t get into trouble again. “And in the future, if you do have any other memory problems, we might add the food or bottles back for a little while, or permanently. So be good. Oh, and I think we’ll have to keep you on probation for a while now. You’re obviously not disciplined enough yet to be trusted.” Doug was both disappointed and relieved. Thank goodness the food and bottles were out of his life, but he hadn’t wanted to continue with the bibs or the sleepers either. But he just nodded his head. “Okay, Mommy.” “Good boy. And good luck this afternoon at the store. Please try to be a good boy.” Doug took a deep breath. What would happen today, and what should he do about Emily? Doug saw a smile spread across Emily’s face as she walked over to meet him at the customer service desk. He wondered what she had in mind for today. It didn’t matter. He’d long since decided that he wouldn’t protest a thing she did today. He’d tried being good, and the outcome had been disappointing enough as to dissuade him from attempting that again. He hadn’t even wanted to be good in the first place, for goodness sake. So today, he’d go with the flow, and just enjoy it. The result had to be better than last week. “Hi, Doug!” she said. “I hope you’re in a more…cooperative mood today.” She wore the confident expression of a young woman who knew that she could get whatever she wanted. She was about to say something else, but Mrs. Johnson caught sight of Doug and interrupted. “Well, hello, little Doug. Are you going to be a good boy today?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug said sincerely. “Good. Did you remember a changing pad this week, just in case?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug answered, holding forward his lovely pink diaper bag, out of which peeked a vinyl changing pad. He’d given up and just decided to bring the whole bag. It wasn’t any more embarrassing than carrying around a clean diaper. “Excellent. That should be more comfortable for you than the cold cement. And what a pretty bag for a little boy,” she cooed, and Doug felt himself turning red. “Alright, you two can get to shopping. Just check in before you leave. Emily, let me know if you need the stockroom key again.” “Okay, Mom,” Emily said. She and Doug, as usual, headed toward the produce section. “Mom told me about your special groceries last week,” she said with a smirk. “Were they good?” Doug shook his head. “No,” he said with a definite air of resentment. It was mostly her fault. “No, what?” Emily prompted with a smile. She loved this. Doug stared at her for a second, confused. Then he understood. “No, ma’am,” he mumbled gruffly. She didn’t deserve the full treatment. Emily, however, believed that she did. She grabbed his arm. “Hey. You be respectful to me, young man. I’m just dying to get more practice in that back room. Now answer my question again.” Doug turned toward his pretty, young, and tormenting babysitter. He was embarrassed to have to obey her every whim, but he was trapped and he knew it. “No, ma’am, I didn’t enjoy my food this week.” He paused, then decided to confront her. “Why’d you do that to me, anyway?” She snorted. “You shouldn’t question me. I’m the babysitter, and that’s my job. Sometimes babies need spankings.” “I’m not a baby,” he objected, though he could have guessed her response even before she said it. “Oh, no,” she replied sarcastically. “You just wet your pants, wear diapers, eat baby food, and have a babysitter. But you’re not a baby. What would you call yourself?” Doug shook his head, and turned to continue shopping. She was right. He couldn’t explain his situation rationally. He didn’t know what he’d call it, anyway, other than absurd. “That’s what I thought,” she said. A silent moment was followed by a chuckle. “Did you like the asparagus?” Doug scowled at her. “No, ma’am.” “Then maybe you’ll be a good boy and do what I tell you today.” Her expression lightened. “And, hey, don’t worry. It’ll be fun!” That was likely to be true, Doug admitted to himself. He started to get nervous as they approached the back hallway. “Well,” she said. “Let’s go check you out!” She reached out a hand for Doug, who rather reluctantly took it and followed. He tried to take deep breaths and relax, but he was already extremely anxious, and could feel a raging erection form within his diaper. They went to the hallway, where Doug obediently pulled down his pants, as he had in previous weeks. Emily knelt before him to begin her “examination.” She closed her eyes and started stroking the front of his diaper, this time dispensing with the charade of “checking” the back of his diaper. He could barely feel her touch through the thick disposable material, but what he could feel excited him even more. It built and built as she continued stroking him through the plastic and padding. He was breathing heavily and was almost near climax by the time Emily said, “Oh, I definitely need to look inside today. Any objections?” She looked up at him with a coy, questioning glance. “No, ma’am,” Doug said quietly. He stared ahead, back toward where the hallway led to the rest of the store. Because they were beyond a turn in the hall, he couldn’t see the store from where they were, but he wondered what would happen if somebody walked in on them. Employees had to come back here, Doug thought. But Emily did not seem to be concerned, and perhaps she knew the store better than he. Doug, at any rate, could hardly do anything about it. He, too, closed his eyes so he wouldn’t think about it. Emily carefully pulled one tape loose, then the other, then slowly lowered the front of Doug’s diaper to reveal his hairless groin and genitalia. His erection, freed from its confines, sprung up energetically and surprised Emily. “Oh!” she exclaimed, then started laughing. “Oh, so that’s how you feel! I can’t believe you put up such a fuss last week.” She giggled. “But it actually doesn’t matter, you know. I’m the babysitter, and we’ll do whatever I want to do.” Doug opened his eyes briefly and nearly fainted when he saw Emily actually lick her lips. “And what I want to do…is see what happens when I do this…” With that she reached out with one hand and stroked Doug’s penis. He closed his eyes again. It felt so good to be touched. He moaned quietly; it had been so long. Emily giggled softly as she heard it. “See? I told you it’d be fun. You just have to be a good little baby and do whatever I say…” “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” a stern voice boomed from behind Emily. Doug snapped open his eyes to see an angry Mrs. Johnson towering over the kneeling Emily, who shrieked and lost her balance, falling backward onto the floor at her mother’s feet. “I…I…I…was just…um…well, I…” Emily stuttered. Doug awkwardly covered himself with his diaper, retaping it as best he could over a rapidly disappearing erection. Oh, boy, he thought. This was going to be bad. What would happen to him now? How could he ever explain this? He took a deep breath. Two Sundays in a row… “I can see what you were just doing, young lady. And last time I checked that was not on the list of babysitting duties!” Doug let out his breath slowly. Wait a minute, he thought. She seemed to be pissed off at Emily. That was strange. Emily, too, realized where the anger seemed to be directed, and her eyes widened in fear. “It wasn’t me, Mom, I swear. He wanted to do it. He made me! He’s a horrible little baby!” she said. Doug’s heart sank at this: of course he would get blamed. It didn’t matter who was at fault, because he would never be believed. He had no credibility. “Really, Emily. Doug, whom you were babysitting, made you, his babysitter, do that? Emily, don’t embarrass yourself. I heard the whole thing. I know exactly what you were doing.” As that information sank in, Doug saw Emily’s face drain of all color. Fear grew in her eyes. It began to dawn on Doug that Emily’s ploy to blame him had not worked, and that she was still on the hot seat. Could he be spared today? He wanted to clarify this, to ask whether he was in trouble, too, but one look at Mrs. Johnson’s fearsome expression convinced him to lie low. She was fuming, her eyes ablaze. “Let me tell you something, young lady. Being in charge of a baby, even this kind of baby, is a huge responsibility. Because in this relationship his judgment counts for nothing, and yours counts for everything. You have to think for both of you, and he is forced to trust that you’ll do what’s right.” Mrs. Johnson was only getting more angry as she went along. “Sometimes that might mean a spanking for him. But it never means sex with him, do you understand? Never. Emily Johnson, breaking a child’s trust is the worst thing you could ever possibly do. And by taking advantage of his helplessness, that’s exactly what you have done.” Mrs. Johnson was pacing now, worked up into a frightful rage. Emily was watching, and was clearly scared to death. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” she said in a small voice that struck Doug as being very different from her normal tone. Now she sounded like a child. “Well, that’s great, Emily. That helps him a lot now,” Mrs. Johnson said sarcastically. “I was trying to use Doug last week in a way that would benefit Doug and be fun for us as well. But that form of teaching doesn’t seem to sink in very well for you, does it? I guess you’re not mature enough to appreciate it, are you?” She stopped pacing and stared at Emily. “No, ma’am,” Emily said quietly. She’d already guessed how this would end, having experienced this type of situation many times throughout her childhood. Doug, however, had no idea where this was headed. He did recognize Emily’s attempt to express regret and obedience in the face of a mother’s wrath, since he tried that same tact with Mrs. Warren. He watched the proceedings nervously, still unsure of his own fate. “I guess we’ll have to go back to our old way of teaching you, won’t we? It sure worked for all those years. I don’t know why I ever abandoned it. I don’t care if your dates knew that’s why you had to be home on time; it was still damned effective. It’s the only thing that ever worked for you, isn’t it?” “Yes, ma’am.” Emily hung her head. Doug’s curiosity grew. Could they be talking about what he thought they were talking about? He’d wondered about this mother-daughter relationship before. Some of their comments seemed to have suggested Emily having been spanked in the past, but he’d assumed it had been ancient history, the normal and uncommon early childhood punishment. This exchange implied more, much more, as if spanking were a regular part of Emily’s teenage years as well. No wonder Emily was so interested in it today. But he’d have time to think about that later. Right now, Mrs. Johnson was pulling out her keys. She found the one she was looking for, and crisply opened the stockroom door behind them. With a backward glance, she said, “Come on, you two.” Doug’s heart pounded. Both of them? Was he, despite his clear innocence, going to receive a spanking today as well? He watched Emily get up and trudge into the darkness of the room beyond. Doug followed her, shuffling towards the door, his pants still down around his ankles. He dared not pull them up until he was told. But Mrs. Johnson stopped him before he went in. “You can pull up your pants, Doug. You’re just a victim today, not a criminal, so you won’t be punished. But I would like you to see that even big kids get spanked if they need it, so I want you to watch.” Something small changed inside Doug at that moment. Up until now, everything he had experienced had been directed, somewhat maliciously, at him. If there was a dispute, he was wrong. If anyone was angry, it was at him. It had seemed that the whole world existed simply to humiliate and punish him. He had been alone. And up until three minutes ago, today seemed to continue in that mold, placing him in a no-win situation where anything he did was punishable. But things had suddenly changed. He wasn’t being spanked unjustly! He felt nearly gleeful as he pulled up and rebuckled his pants over his diaper. But almost immediately, his heart went out to Emily, for he knew the fear and unhappiness that she was feeling at this moment. As much as he resented her abuse of him, he wouldn’t wish his experiences on anyone. He would even have tried to help her, but he knew that he was powerless to do so. Pleading for mercy for Emily would probably lead to a spanking for him as well, and that wouldn’t make anybody’s day better. Mrs. Johnson waited patiently for him to finish getting dressed, watching as he carefully adjusted his diaper so that it would be visible to other shoppers when they returned to the store. She followed him into the stockroom, flipping on the lights and letting the door close behind her. She strode purposefully to the chair by the wall, the same chair that Emily had sat in one week ago, and pulled it out from the wall before stiffly seating herself in it. Emily lingered several feet away, eyes downcast, sniffling quietly. Doug stared at her, noticing that she, like him, wore jeans, and wondering if, like him, she would have to pull them down. Against his will, an erection began forming at this thought. “Let’s go, young lady. You should know the drill,” Mrs. Johnson said sharply to her daughter. “Get those jeans down.” Doug stood transfixed at the image of his tormentor unbuttoning and lowering her pants to her ankles. She turned away from him, and an occasional shy glance toward Doug indicated her embarrassment about this situation. Doug saw her adjust her pink flowered underpants self-consciously. Mrs. Johnson saw this, too. “Being embarrassed should be the least of your worries, little girl. He’s just a baby, remember? He doesn’t care how you look. And anyway, as interested as you were in seeing him, don’t you think he’s earned reciprocity? Pull those underpants down immediately.” “But Mom…” Emily whined.“But, nothing!” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed, rising in a surprisingly fluid motion, reaching over and grabbing Emily’s elbow, swinging her around and swatting her forcefully on her bottom through her panties. “Don’t try any backtalk today, little girl. I’m not in the mood.” “Yes, ma’am,” Emily said, her voice trembling from embarrassment, pain, and probably some angry frustration. She was too old to be treated like this. After another shy glance toward Doug she slipped her fingers inside her waistband and eased her panties down her legs. Doug again stared, and he couldn’t help but admire her athletic buttocks and legs. It was a great view of what was soon to be a very red and sore rear end. Emily stood awkwardly, no doubt feeling Doug’s eyes sweeping her body. “Come on over,” Mrs. Johnson told her, and Emily, after only a brief pause, slowly shuffled to just outside of an arm’s length of her mother, naturally wary of coming any closer. But Mrs. Johnson’s eyes narrowed at her, and Emily forced her legs to edge forward just a bit… An arm shot up, grabbing one of Emily’s wrists and pulling her forcefully over Mrs. Johnson’s lap. Emily screamed and flailed but could do nothing to prevent herself from landing smack dab across her mother's thighs, right where Mrs. Johnson wanted her. “Told you it worked,” Mrs. Johnson commented wryly. And true to form, Mrs. Johnson next sharply demanded, “Do you know why you need this spanking, little girl?” Her right hand was poised above Emily’s vulnerable and tender bottom. “Yes, ma’am,” Emily called out in a trembling voice. “Go ahead.” “…Because I was bad. I was playing with the baby’s little thing, and that’s wrong.” “You’d better believe it. And this ought to show you just how wrong it was.” And Mrs. Johnson let her hand drop, releasing a mighty blow to Emily’s bottom. Doug flinched out of habit, and Emily cried out. Doug could see the fear on her face as she awaited the next spank. It came several seconds later, and the others were also well spaced out, in order to let the sting of each sink in before the next, Doug assumed. He watched grimly as the tempo of the paddling increased. Unconsciously his hands found his own (well-padded) bottom and rubbed it repeatedly. Relief that it wasn’t him again flooded through him, as well as some inexplicable guilt (it certainly wasn’t his fault) and more understandable pity. This wasn’t as difficult as having a spanking himself, but watching wasn’t turning out to be any fun either. As he watched, he could tell as Emily entered all the stages he had experienced the week before: first simple crying, then screaming, then wailing, and finally a hopeless, defeated whimper of exhaustion that convinced Mrs. Johnson to ease and finally to stop the furious onslaught. Emily, like Doug before her, was dumped on the floor and spent a moment crying before she became alert enough to pull up her panties and jeans. Unlike Doug, Emily had not had an accident during her spanking, despite what had to have been an equally traumatic experience. Doug wouldn’t think about this until several months later. Mrs. Johnson stood and brushed herself off, replaced her chair by the wall, and approached Doug. He was understandably somewhat scared of her right now, despite her earlier reassurances, and couldn’t help backing away from her, but Mrs. Johnson knelt down and beckoned him forward, as with a shy child. Doug was surprised to see her face filled with tenderness. “By the way, did something like what happened today out in the hall also happen last week?” she asked him gently. Doug stared at the floor and nodded silently. “And that’s what you were trying to tell me last week?” He stared at Emily, standing now and rubbing the seat of her pants and still sniffling. “Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” Mrs. Johnson replied sincerely. “I don’t think it will happen again.” Doug nodded silently at this promise, inferring from the way it was said that Emily would no longer be his babysitter. This was comforting in a way, but strangely, Doug wasn’t entirely pleased by this. And indeed, the homely girl was called to finish escorting him around the store. As Doug retrieved his cart, he caught sight of Mrs. Johnson leading Emily out of the store, and he correctly concluded that that was the last he’d see of Emily, at least in the foreseeable future. The grocery store would become a less threatening, but also, he had to admit, a less exciting place to shop from now on. That night Doug had trouble sleeping. The day’s events seemed to replay themselves continuously in his head. The whole experience had left him feeling disturbed and unhappy, but it took him a lot of thinking to figure out why. He knew it had to do with the whole Johnson attitude about spankings and the way Mrs. Johnson treated her daughter. Considering how many times Emily must have been beaten by her mother as she grew up, Doug suspected that he couldn’t really comprehend the many ways she’d been affected by such continuous violence. Perhaps it was only natural that Emily should at times obsess about spankings. He decided he wouldn’t try to judge her, as he’d been tempted to do before. But there were still so many unanswered questions. For instance, why was she turned on by it? How had she sexualized her painful experiences? At times, such as last week, she seemed downright sadistic. Is that what excessive spanking does to a kid? Doug wondered. He could easily imagine Mrs. Johnson being abusive, despite her facade of “caring” about a child’s well-being. Was this an example of passing down abusive behavior from one generation to the next? How would Emily treat her children? And how would she have treated him? What had she been looking for with him? A playmate for S&M games? A baby to abuse? Someone with whom to share the pain of her upbringing? They had already shared many strange experiences; what might they have shared if things had happened differently? It was sad, really: it had only been today that Doug had realized what similar situations they were in, and suddenly, before he could explore the possibilities or answer any of the questions, Emily was snatched away. He didn’t know where she lived or went to school, how old she was, or how she felt about any of this, including him. She didn’t know anything about him, either. Their only link was through Mrs. Johnson, who obviously wasn’t going to help get them together. So Doug doubted that he’d ever find answers to his questions, or even see Emily again. What a rare opportunity she had been. How sad to have lost her. Chapter 12 After he’d been in diapers for two months, Doug hardly noticed them anymore, and, in fact, was mostly unaware of using them as well. They were so thick and absorbent that he couldn’t feel when he was wet; instead he had to look at the indicator stripe. Because this would have been awkward at work, he had begun changing himself with such regularity as to avoid the possibility of leaking. This method also had the effect of making how much and when he actually wet his diaper nearly irrelevant. And this eventually led to Doug’s paying less and less attention to the event, so that soon he didn’t even notice when he did it. BMs, on the other hand, were different. He usually felt them coming, and sometimes stood up or squatted to facilitate their passage. And though he hardly noticed that neither wetting nor messing required his attention anymore, this would have been fine with him. In his view, as long as he had to wear diapers, he might as well enjoy the freedom they gave him. Since control of his bladder and bowels didn’t help him at all right now and would now simply be a nuisance, he never even tried any more. It’s interesting that Doug never considered the implications of this; if he ever noticed that he wasn’t controlling himself these days, it didn’t bother him. He assumed it was like riding a bike, in that if it ever mattered again, he could do it on command. And currently, there were no such demands. Besides, the time for worrying about such things was still months ahead. The last two weeks, since he’d last seen Emily, had been pretty easy, if a little boring. But in this situation, where excitement usually meant punishment, he’d gladly take boring. He’d had no trouble with Mrs. Warren, uneventful grocery shopping trips, and an easy time at work. He’d been a good boy, of course, (except for his weekly indiscretion of sexual release) so the lack of punishment should have been no surprise. But with someone as strict as Mrs. Warren, he could never tell. He certainly hadn’t seen that bowel encouragement thing coming either. Being a good boy now meant wearing his new pink sleepers nightly, and although this was, of course, grating to him, if that was all it took to make Mrs. Warren happy, then so be it. It was a small price to pay. As luck would have it, however, Doug’s life was just about to get much less pleasant today. He came home from the lab this afternoon a little later than usual, and was mildly alarmed to see Mrs. Warren’s diaper van parked outside. Knowing that he’d done nothing out of the ordinary wrong, he curiously entered his apartment to find her seated at the dining room table, reading a magazine. “Hi,” he said, putting his diaper bag down on a table. “You’re late,” she commented cheerlessly. “Yeah, missed my bus,” he said, sensing something was wrong. “What’s, um, going on?” “We need to talk,” she said, putting her magazine away. “Okay,” he said cautiously, sitting down on the sofa nearest the dining area. “No,” she said, patting her lap crisply. “I need you over my knee for this talk.” Doug’s heart pounded. He was suddenly tense. “Why?” he asked. “Come on over first,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.” He looked down and shook his head in frustration. What had he done wrong this time? “But why?” She glared at him. “I want you OVER MY KNEE. Now. OR ELSE.” He half snorted. “What could be worse than this?” “You don’t want to know. NOW.” Doug’s eyes teared up slightly as he stood up and slowly waddled over. He stared at the floor, mad and confused. Things had been going so well. When he stood in front of her, she said, “Pants down first.” Slowly he undid his belt and pants and dropped them to the floor, leaving him with just his diaper, which happened to be half-wet. “Your diaper clean?” she asked, turning her chair away from the table to face him. He looked. “A little wet,” he murmured in reply, resigned now to his fate. But why? he wondered. “That’s okay,” she said, and lifted her arms so he could lay on her lap, which he did gingerly. She lifted him off the floor with her knees, rendering him helpless, and told him to grab the chair legs to keep his hands out of the way. “Now,” she said. “We can talk. Tell me about the toilet paper.” “What?” Doug asked, hoping to God she didn’t mean what he thought she meant. An answer to his question came in the form of his tapes being undone and the rear of his diaper being pulled down to reveal his damp, powdered buttocks. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He gasped with each spank, trying not to cry already. “I said, tell me about the toilet paper. Where did you get it? How’d you get it home?” He realized that he had, in fact, been nailed. Somehow she knew, and she had him in the perfect position to extract whatever information she wanted. He could see himself getting into even worse trouble if he tried to stall or lie. He knew he didn’t have much of a choice: anything was better than a spanking. So he caved in. Damage control. “I…I got it from work. I snuck it home in my shoes,” he sniffed. “In your shoes?” He hated to give this away. “In my toes. I was going to tell you it was so my shoes would fit.” “Aren’t you smart. And where did you hide them here at home, until you used them?” He paused. If he’d been given any time at all to prepare for this inquisition, he could have made something up to protect his precious system. But he couldn’t make stuff up while he lay, so vulnerably, in this position. Another spank fell on his bottom before he nearly yelled, “In the bottom of a cereal box.” The spanks ceased. Telling the truth may be bad in the long run, he thought, but it’s certainly better in the short-term. “And what, young man, did you use the toilet paper for? Don’t lie to me…” Mrs. Warren warned, rubbing his already-red buttocks with her hand. “For…for, um, you know,” he whined. “I couldn’t help it. I had to. It’s too hard not to.” He started crying softly. His life sucked. “I know,” she said, soothingly continuing to rub his bottom. It felt nice. “It’s hard, isn’t it? But say the words. What did you do?” “I…played with myself,” he confessed, once again humiliated by her. When she didn’t say anything, he kept going. Might as well. “Then…I stuffed the toilet paper into an old Coke can and put it in the trash so you wouldn’t find it.” He stopped crying, waiting to see what she’d say. She didn’t seem mad. She wasn’t mad, in fact; she was, rather, feeling triumphant. She’d known for quite a while that Doug had to be engaging in some sort of illicit masturbatory behavior, but it had taken more than two weeks to find the evidence. She’d seen lots of intricate plans, from every single one of her babies, so she’d known he’d have one and that it was her job to find it. The discovery of the Coke can had been the result of long, hard work on the part of herself and her several inspectors. It was a tedious, dirty process, but critical to the long-term success of her programs. Her boys had to be kept sexually frustrated so that they’d break the rules and need to be punished. Otherwise they could come close to “graduating.” Her babies could be as good as they wanted, but none could abstain totally from sexual gratification, not when they were taped into the object of their desire. But she still didn’t know the rest of the plan, or the details of how many times Doug had gotten away with this. Luckily, that didn’t matter. She’d bluff. “But I did find it, didn’t I?” she asked him, as if he were a toddler. “I always know, Doug, always.” He was beginning to believe her. He couldn’t get away with anything. She was too smart. He’d never try anything again. Ever. “Now tell me, young man, how many times you touched yourself and ejaculated. I already know, because I counted. But I want to see if I need to punish you for lying to me as well.” Doug was trapped. He had no way of knowing what she knew and what she didn’t know. But if history were any guide, then she probably knew. And while she didn’t seem mad now, he bet that if he lied to her and she knew, she’d be very angry. Then he’d get a spanking for sure. So he told the truth. “Four times,” he said, after counting. “But that’s all. And really, I just couldn’t help it!” “I know, I know,” she cooed to him, watching him squirm on her lap. “That’s a good little boy for telling Mommy. And don’t worry. We’ll help you with that little problem. But first tell me: were you a good boy or a naughty boy for touching yourself there?” Doug stared at the floor. She was heading toward something. He’d been in this ICP long enough to know that. But where? He had to play her little degrading game before he found out. He hated it. “Naughty, Mommy.” She kept rubbing his bottom tenderly. “Yes,” she agreed. “Only big boys who don’t have accidents and who wear big boy underpants get to touch themselves like that. You’re just a little baby who wears diapers. You’re only allowed to use your pee-pee for making Number One. You’re not allowed to touch it for any other reason. That’s right, isn’t it?” “Yes, Mommy,” Doug conceded. “And what happens to naughty boys?” “They get punished,” he said, knowing that was what he had to say. “Right,” she said. "In fact, you clearly need a spanking. “And we’ll give you that spanking in just a minute. But first, you need to make a choice about what kind of punishment you’ll get after that. I’ve found that if you help decide how you’ll be punished, you learn better from it afterward. So pay attention while I give you your choices.” Doug groaned inwardly. "Since you were naughty four different times, we’ll use a “four” theme in your punishment. You have a choice of getting one spanking a day for four days, or of wearing a chastity device for four weeks. The first choice will ideally make you question whether the few seconds of pleasure you had was worth the many days of pain you’ll experience. You know that you can feel the effects from one of my spankings for several days. Just imagine what it must feel like to get one every day for most of a week. It’s designed to make you think about what you’ve done for a long time.” That sounded horrible to Doug. “The second option is the more responsible one, in my opinion. It attacks the problem at its root and prevents it from happening again. So, you get to decide now. Four days, or four weeks?” Doug was silent. Upside down on Mrs. Warren’s lap, he was extremely tempted to choose anything that didn’t involve spankings. He’d already learned to avoid those at all cost. Yet the idea of spending four weeks without an opportunity to release some of the sexual excitement caused by diapers and his relative celibacy was inhumane. He’d die, he knew. At least with the spankings he’d get the whole thing over with and could figure out a new plan. With any luck he could be “active” again inside the week. “Work on his problem.” Hah! His only problem was her. So as much as he hated to walk right into getting a spanking (or four!) he knew he couldn’t face up to the other choice. “I think I’ll go with the spankings,” he told the floor at which he was staring. Mrs. Warren had continued to rub his bottom, but now she suddenly stopped. “Doug, I’m disappointed in you,” Mrs. Warren said coldly. “That choice was a test to see if you were mature enough to take your sick little problem seriously. I offered you an easy way, without punishment after today, of getting a jump on addressing your problem, but rather than confront your dirty habit, you decided to choose unbearable pain. Do you know how pathetic that is?” She snorted derisively. “Well, if you want pain, I’ll give you all the pain you can handle, and probably more. You’ll get all those spankings. But if you won’t face your problem, then as your Mommy it’s my responsibility to help you face it, whether you want to or not. So in addition to your precious spankings, you’ll wear the chastity device for a month anyway.” Doug gasped. That was inhuman. Given the choice of two horrible punishments, he’d chosen, only to be given both. It was too much. He screamed and kicked, trying to push himself off her knees. “Nooooo!” he yelled. She somehow elevated her knees so he couldn’t manage to touch anything, and gave his rear end a dozen hard swats with her strong, bare hand. He was soon reduced to tears. “You’ve now earned yourself six full weeks in the chastity device. Care to go for two months? Three months? There’s no limit. Or perhaps you’d like a week’s worth of spankings. That can easily be arranged as well. Would you like to shoot for that? Or are you grateful with the punishment you’ve been given?” He was crying hard now, from the pain, from the realization of how horrible his life would be for the next months, and from the utter futility of his situation. He was so completely powerless. “Are you?” she was demanding. “Are you happy with your punishment?” “Yes,” he choked. “Yes, Mommy. Please.” “Good boy. Okay, we’ll keep it at that for now. But that could change, depending on your behavior, especially if I think you’re not grateful for my help in this matter. Tomorrow we’ll start with the first of your four spankings, and in a minute I’ll help you into your chastity device, but first I promised you a spanking today. And I hate to disappoint.” At this Doug cried harder than ever, even before she began striking his bottom. He’d forgotten about this spanking during the talk about the other punishments. He was pretty much in pieces during the whole thing. She interspersed her blows with questions like whether touching himself had been worth it, and if he still wanted to touch himself now. But he hardly heard her. He was bawling insensibly when she finished and dumped him on the floor with his half-wet diaper still between his legs. He just sat on the floor, crying and rubbing one cheek at a time while Mrs. Warren wasn’t watching. She was rummaging through her purse for something. He almost wasn’t aware of what was happening when she came to him and gently pushed him to the floor on his back. He didn’t care. He just laid back obediently and kept crying. She took what she had brought with her and unlocked something. She made him spread his legs, and she smoothed out his diaper underneath him. The device was a short, curved sheath, shaped like a cylinder with both ends open, but tapered sharply at the far end. She easily slid it over Doug’s flaccid penis, and tightened a small screw near the base so that it fit snugly, then secured it with a small but sturdy lock. She then took two other straps and ran them around his thighs, securing them also to the base of the sheath with another lock. Finally, one last strap ran around his waist and secured the sheath from above. Thus, the sheath was fastened to his genitalia and could not be removed from any direction. She once again checked the straps, and then inspected the sheath, where she saw that Doug’s penis still had a quarter inch or so to `breathe’ at the end. "Doug, pay attention. Let me explain to you how this device works. There is a sheath around your pee-pee. It feels soft on the inside, because there is a nice waterproof gel there that ought to be very comfortable when you pee-pee is this size. But notice that the sheath isn’t very long, it’s curved, and it gets skinny at the end. If your pee-pee should for any reason get any bigger, it will be forced to curve around, and push against the skinny wall at the end. This shape simply won’t accomodate an erection of any size at all. You will also discover that, beneath the nice soft gel, are hidden tiny prickly-feeling spikes. They don’t hurt you now, but if the fit gets any tighter, I have reliable sources tell me that it becomes very painful. "These features will effectively dissuade you from trying to get an erection. And if you do manage even a small one, it will be more painful than it is pleasurable. This is called classical conditioning, and you don’t need to know that much about it. Just know that the pain you feel will convince you that erections are bad, painful things. My experience tells me that this association will persist even after we take the device off, if we decide to do that. So this is why this device is such an effective treatment for your problem. “Just for fun, to make sure that the conditioning is reinforced often, I had the thigh straps put on. They tug at the sheath and its contents whenever you walk or move. The gel is apparently so comfortable that many of my babies have had trouble with becoming aroused whenever they walk. This, of course, leads to pain, which reinforces the lesson that genital stimulation is bad. It is a lesson you will learn well in the next six weeks.” She smiled at Doug, who was now sitting up and staring at this contraption which encased his groin. He was amazed. He didn’t think this type of thing existed. Of course, he had been naive about a lot of things before Mrs. Warren had come into his life. Mrs. Warren shook her head. She could never get over her admiration for whoever had designed this little beast. It was perfect. She just wished she had more of them to go around. She pulled up Doug’s diaper between his legs and taped it tightly. “You don’t have to worry about chafing. Just use lots of powder and lotion under the straps when you can. I will let you out every few days to clean and powder your penis for a moment and put lotion on it if you want. Otherwise, the device is totally waterproof, which means you don’t have to worry about peeing in it, showering in it, etc. It’s darn near indestructible.” She stood and walked over to her purse. “And the best part it, you don’t have to take it off to give a spanking.” She put her black purse over her shoulder, and turned toward the door. Then she turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve decided you clearly need better reminders of how old you are, since you were playing with yourself like a big boy. So we’ll go back to the bibs and bottles. I’ve removed all of your glasses, so you need to do all of your drinking from your bottles now. And bibs at every meal. Okay? Okay. Goodbye, Doug. I’ll see you tomorrow night for your “first” spanking. Until then, be good.” Mrs. Warren laughed and winked as she left. Doug sat in his diaper on the floor and stared at the door long after she’d left. Doug’s next week, simply put, was hell. For five days he received an unforgettable series of spankings that left him sore for nearly two weeks afterward. And things didn’t really get better after that. Mrs. Warren’s chastity device, unfortunately, turned out to be everything she’d said it was, and more. Early and exhaustive experimentation early on proved it to be inescapable. He was definitely stuck in it for the duration. The sheath itself wasn’t really uncomfortable, as long as Doug’s penis was flaccid. It fit well, and there was very little chafing. But he soon grew to hate the straps that ran around each of his thighs and attached to the sheath. With every step, they tugged the sheath from side to side, gently massaging Doug’s penis against the smooth gel of the sheath. In his deprived, excitable state (which only worsened, of course, as time went on), it led quickly and efficiently to the beginnings of an erection, which was just as quickly and efficiently terminated by what felt like a thousand needles digging into his penis. He had no idea how it worked, what was under the gel, or why it never seemed to draw blood. But it was undeniably present, and excruciatingly painful. It happened nearly every time he walked, and when the pain hit, he’d literally double over and have to fight a yelp of distress. After the better part of a minute, the venous congestion would disperse, and the pain would abate; he would straighten up and walk for another few steps until it happened again. And so, yes, he began to hate and fear these mini-erections, despite his knowledge that it was not erections per se that were painful, that he was only being made to feel this way by Mrs. Warren. But what could he do? With every step he took, the association of sexual stimulation and intense pain was etched more and more clearly into his consciousness. And he indeed found himself swearing to himself that he’d never have another erection again, if only the pain would end. He made such oaths despite the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be able to follow up on them later. He knew his resolve wasn’t that strong, that he’d eventually have to give in to his desires and masturbate again. But those straps hurt him. In addition to the torment caused by the chastity device, he also had to deal with the ongoing humiliation of having to drink from a baby bottle, even at work. He was forced to bring a bottle from home, hide it under his desk, and surreptitiously suck on it when he was thirsty or at lunch. He constantly lived in fear of being discovered by coworkers, or worse, his boss, the lab’s director. A week into this punishment, he was surprised to notice that the mug he kept at his desk had disappeared at some point. He didn’t know who had taken it, or when it had been taken, but he had to assume that Mrs. Warren, or her informant, was responsible. He didn’t say a word about it, of course; what could he say? He had to use bottles at home as well, and since he found it impossible to drink anything quickly out of it, he usually ended up sucking on a bottle more or less constantly when he was at home just to satisfy his thirst. And since he had to wear one of his bibs whenever he ate or drank anything, Doug found himself wearing a bib, and drinking from his bottle, nearly the entire time he was at home. These little humiliations added up. Doug never felt more degraded than when he finished a bottle, removed his bib, changed his wet or messy diaper, and put on his pink sleeper for bed. He practiced this sequence nightly, however, without cutting corners. He knew from experience what happened when he tried to break rules. As Doug tried to deal with all of this, the last thing he thought of was his continence (or lack thereof), which was, of course, part of the point. In fact, in the midst of all these other hassles, he was beginning to forget to be upset about having to wear diapers. They were edging their way into his concept of what was “normal” for him these days; if he just had to wear his diapers, and didn’t have to worry about all the other nonsense, he wouldn’t have complained at all. It was near the end of his third month in diapers that he woke up for the first time in a wet diaper. The first time, he wasn’t really sure if he’d done it in his sleep or if he’d awakened and wet it semi-consciously, but as time went on and he woke up wet more and more often, he began to suspect the truth. It was a sign of how much his perspective had changed that he didn’t regard this development with alarm. But Doug was necessarily becoming very good at rationalization, and he reasoned that this was simply a temporary condition brought on by the constant usage of diapers during the daytime, and would surely resolve, along with everything else, as soon as he resumed his normal life in another couple of months. And for now, what was the harm? Like his other unconscious diaper-usage, it actually made things more convenient, since he didn’t have to wake up to take care of things in the middle of the night. His diaper and stuffer were certainly thick enough to handle the overnight load, and so Doug decided that the end result would simply be a better night of sleep. Three weeks into Doug’s enforced chastity punishment, he decided to try to make a bargain with Mrs. Warren. After spending several days mustering the necessary courage, Doug asked her if she might agree to take the thigh straps off if he wore the rest of the device an extra two weeks. Mrs. Warren was delighted by this offer, seeing it as “progress” by Doug, and agreed immediately, since she didn’t currently have another client who would be needing the device before Doug would be done with it. For Doug it was a victory of sorts. Since he was already swearing not to have an orgasm afterward, lengthening the punishment didn’t deprive him of anything, and he rid himself of the most heinous part of the punishment. And he was kind of happy: for the first time since he could remember, he had exerted a little control over his strange life. At the end of the two months, in February, the sheath came off completely, and Doug was happy to return to his “normal” life. He was disappointed when Mrs. Warren said he still had to use the bib and the bottles, but he wasn’t going to argue. He forced himself to be grateful for what he could get; the bibs and bottles were starting to seem less horrible now, anyway. They certainly weren’t worth fighting over. By the time his punishment was over, Doug ended up feeling ready to try to keep his promise not to masturbate. When he had first been locked into it, he had focused on more rebellion, and spent many hours trying to dream up new plans for clandestine masturbation. He had thought of something that would probably work; it revolved around masturbating out the back door of his apartment at night in the grass, a plan that would have seemed utterly bizarre and obscene to him several months earlier. But he was now in desperate straits, and he’d thought he wouldn’t be able to wait until he got out to try it. As time wore on, however, and he began, against his will, to resent his erections, he’d slowly decided to shift his post-punishment strategy to one of lying low. After all, he’d lasted two months without an orgasm; surely he should just wait two more and be done with this whole ordeal. The two remaining months would pass much faster if he were not being actively punished for something; he ought to be good, get out, and then recover his life. Abstinence seemed a small price to pay to expedite his freedom, even in the face of a diaper fetish, which, although less obvious these days, must still be hiding there underneath it all. It was indeed the ultimate sacrifice, but it was still worth it if it helped him bear his ICP better. Doug realized that he was two-thirds of the way through his ICP, and he started thinking more and more about the future, specifically what would happen after this diaper torture was over. His interview for the graduate program had, as expected, gone well, and his boss, the lab director, had essentially assured him that the rest of the application process was a formality, and that for all intents and purposes he could plan on entering the program in August. Doug was overjoyed at this, for he’d structured this entire year around this very opportunity. It appeared that his work had paid off, and that despite the strange twist his life had briefly taken, his overall goals were still in sight, and if he could just live through the last two months of this thing, his dream life was waiting for him. He looked forward to having to decide between the equally enticing prospects of a high-salaried private sector position and a juicy teaching job at a top university somewhere. Either way, it looked like his future would be well-paved. Chapter 13 Things were proceeding as planned until, a week after getting out of that prickly penile prison, Doug awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to feel the cold February breeze blowing on his face. He was abruptly jarred to alertness, and he sat up and stared around, feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He saw immediately that his second story window was open. A chill passed through him: he’d closed it before waddling into bed wearing his pink sleeper over his diaper. So who had opened it, and where were they now? He glanced around the room and slowly became aware of the fact that there was actually someone else in bed with him. He could just make out the shape of someone under the sheet, and up near the pillow, a shock of blond hair stuck out above the top of the sheet… Doug caught his breath. This was unreal. He reached over and quietly turned on his bedside lamp, which might not be enough to wake the person next to him. But Doug saw motion under the blanket, and then a hand snaked its way up and out next to the hair, pulling down the sheet to reveal… Emily. Not quite awake yet, stirring restlessly, and frowning a little at the light being on. Emily in his bed. A million questions flooded Doug’s consciousness, all crowding in on him at once. How had she found him? How had she gotten through the window? Why was she here? And, most pressing, what should he do? He’d often thought of her in the past two months, wondering where she was, what she was doing, if he’d ever see her again. Now she was here. For whatever reason, she was here. He let his eyes sweep over the form of her body under the sheet next to him, and from the way the bedclothes lay Doug began to suspect that she was unclothed. Oh, boy. This is too much, he thought. Predictably, Doug felt an erection begin to form. He’d wanted to be good, but surely this was too much of an opportunity to pass up. His hand made its way down to his crotch, and he unconsciously tried to rub himself through his sleeper and diaper. The motion disturbed the already-restless sleeper beside him, and Emily’s eyes fluttered open, squinting at the lamp’s light. “Baby boy,” she murmured. “Are you awake?” “Um, yes,” he said, trying to stay as calm as possible in this odd situation. What should he say to this goddess who had hunted him down and snuck into his bed while he was sleeping? “Uh, Emily?” “Mm-hmmm,” she hummed sleepily. “What are you doing here?” he asked instinctively, and immediately regretted it. She roused herself and looked at him more clearly. “Why, don’t you want me here?” she asked, pouting slightly. “Oh, yes, well, I mean, of course, I do, but,” he sputtered. Didn’t she think this situation was odd? “Shhhh,” she said, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t get all upset. I thought a surprise visit might be kind of fun. You know what I mean?” she asked, looking up at him. Doug’s throat was completely dry by now. He wanted to speak but couldn’t, and, indeed, couldn’t think of anything appropriate anyway. He knew exactly what she meant, and it was long overdue. He’d spent a lot of time fantasizing about Emily, and had come to realize that if he ever got a chance with her again, he’d take it. He just hadn’t expected that chance to happen like this. He could feel the heat and tension inside his diaper. And this time the erection didn’t hurt. Emily put her hand up to Doug’s chest, running her fingers across the fuzzy pink fabric he wore. “Pretty jammies,” she whispered, smiling. “Did you pick them out yourself?” Doug blushed. “No,” he croaked with embarrassment. “But I have to wear them.” “I think they’re very cute,” Emily told him. “And they’re perfect for you.” Doug blushed again. He must really look stupid in this outfit. How degrading to have Emily see him in it. “But it looks hard to get out of,” she said, her brow furrowed with concern. Doug shook his head. “No, it’s not too bad. There’re snaps all down the front and through here,” he said, indicating his crotch. “So I can…” he broke off, embarrassed at what he’d almost said. “So you can change your diaper?” Emily whispered seductively. “Is that what snaps are for?” Doug nodded and swallowed hard. He was surprised his diaper hadn’t been ripped off by the force of the erection he had right now. “Good,” she replied. “I’m so glad those snaps are there. It will make what happens next a lot easier.” Doug stared at her. He’d heard her, but somehow he didn’t think she was referring to a diaper change. “What happens next?” he asked softly, though he already knew. “Something I’ve been waiting for for a long time,” she answered, smiling. “Something that should have happened long before now.” And she began to sit up, the sheet falling to her the bed, her beautiful breasts emerging to Doug’s view. And he stared. He had never seen such perfection. He had imagined how they’d look, but in his dreams he’d never even conceived of a sight so beautiful. But he didn’t have time to stare. Emily was pushing him back, down to his pillow. In a strong, graceful motion she lifted a foot and climbed on top of him. Doug was paralyzed by the sight of her astride him. She smiled at him as her hands made their way down to his waist and below, finding and pulling apart the snaps at his crotch. She managed to pull his feet out of the sleeper and pull the bottom half of it up above his waist, so that he still wore the top of it, but all that remained below was his diaper. She smiled even more at the sight of it. “Oh, you’re a good boy at home, too, aren’t you?” she asked in a babyish tone. “Well, not tonight, you’re not,” she said as she pulled off the diaper’s tapes. “Tonight, neither of our mommies is around.” She pulled his diaper back, tucking it between his legs behind her. She let her fingers explore their way along Doug’s powdered thighs, across his abdomen, until they worked their way toward their hairless, throbbing target. “Oooh, you’ve missed me,” she said softly. “Just lie back and relax tonight, Doug. There’s nothing you can do about it this time. You know as well as I do that this was meant to be, and I won’t let you off the hook this time.” Her fingers tickled his penis, his tortured and denied penis, and it responded. Doug started breathing heavily, closing his eyes, and concentrating on the forbidden sensations he had been denied for so long. Screw Mrs. Warren, he thought. I’m not a baby; I’m a man, and this is what I’m meant to do. Not even that chastity belt could stop this from happening. Emily sensed his growing excitement, and withdrew her hand in an attempt to draw things out a bit. She leaned over him and placed a breast in his lips. “Why don’t you enjoy that for a while?” she asked. “That’s better than that old bottle you have, isn’t it?” Doug was a little embarrassed by this, but he didn’t care. It did, in fact, feel very nice to suck on a real breast for a change, even if nothing came out. He didn’t ask himself how Emily knew about the bottle. He was concentrating on Emily’s responsive moans, sucking more as he heard her grow more excited. Soon Emily, too, was panting, and with a slow, determined motion, she lifted herself with her strong thighs and guided Doug’s penis into her, and, smiling, said, “This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” Doug opened his eyes and nodded happily, and then closed them again to savor the sensation. It was exactly what he had wanted, and he wasn’t thinking of anything else right now, not the ethics of what was happening, not how Emily possibly could have gotten his address, not what would happen when Mrs. Warren found out. It felt perfect, like he’d been born and lived his entire life just for this one moment. Heaven. He felt Emily rise and fall on him, and together they moved, the excitement building and building. The climactic moment was well-timed, and the bliss lasted several seconds, until Emily fell, exhausted, off of him, onto the bed beside him. Doug just lay there, thanking God for such a moment in the middle of the rest of his misery. Suddenly his eyes snapped open. Had he fallen asleep? He looked around. Emily was gone. The window, wide open before, was now shut and locked. The light was out; it was still nighttime. His hands felt down his body. He was wearing his diaper and his sleeper was back on. Had Emily rediapered and redressed him in his sleep? Why had she left? Why hadn’t he awakened? He nearly started crying when he began to realize that, of course, Emily could never have been here with him. The most perfect moment he’d ever lived had been a dream. A huge wave of disappointment swept over him as he acknowledged that his own life wasn’t nearly so perfect. He should have known. As if Emily would want him, he thought. Look at me, in my pink, babyish sleeper, in my diaper. In my wet diaper, he noted ruefully. Well, as long as I’m up, he thought, I may as well change myself. He turned the light on, unsnapped his sleeper, untaped his diaper and pulled it down between his legs, as Emily had done in his dream. He glanced down at it as he sat up and prepared to get out of bed to get a clean diaper, and he noticed something interesting. His diaper wasn’t all yellow like it usually was after wetting at night. Yet it had felt wet. He looked closer: there was something in his diaper, but it was clearly not urine. Panic set in when Doug realized what had happened. He’d never had a wet dream before, but it wasn’t a difficult conclusion to draw. A perfect dream, the wet diaper. Wow. This is something that’s never happened to me before, but I’m sure I know what it is. A wet dream. And if it was that, then it was great. I’ve really been missing something all this time. But how could he possibly explain this to Mrs. Warren? He couldn’t just throw the diaper away; he had to turn it in, and she’d surely discover his evidence. And then he knew exactly what would happen; his bottom tingled just thinking about it. A horrific spanking followed by the chastity device, and the thigh straps… But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t have avoided this. He’d been very good, for the very reason that he’d wanted to avoid facing punishment like this. And his mind had been good. It was his body that had betrayed him. How could he possibly have prevented this? He didn’t know what to think about his body any more: wetting at night, wet dreams, what was next? Doug finished changing himself, and then, frustrated and confused, he ended up crying himself back to sleep for the night. When he awoke the next morning, he decided that among the bad options he had, the best was actually to call Mrs. Warren and tell her exactly what had happened, before she found out on her own and was mad at him for trying to lie, too. He imagined that this was what she’d want him to do anyway, so it would probably help to mitigate his punishment. “Yes?” he heard her answer when he phoned her cellular phone an hour later. He’d caught her in between clients. “Um, hi, Mommy, this is Doug calling,” he started. It was a Saturday morning, and he had no plans for the day. He’d figured he ought to keep himself fairly flexible; you never know with Mrs. Warren. “Yes, Doug? How’s my little boy doing this morning?” “Well, okay, I guess, but I need to tell you something embarrassing, and I hope you won’t be mad at me.” Mrs. Warren thought for a moment. Doug was far enough along in his ICP that he wouldn’t be phased at all by what most normal people would call “embarrassing,” so this must be pretty interesting, especially to make Doug call her so early in the day. “Well, Doug, I can’t tell whether or not I need to be mad until you tell me. What’s going on?” Doug paused. How should he say it? “I had a…little accident in my sleep last night,” he said quietly. Accident? She knew he’d begun wetting in his sleep, an excellent sign. But that was old news by now. What could this be? A messy overnight diaper? It was a little early for that, though Doug had made better progress than most. More likely, it was the third kind of accident. “What kind of accident, Doug?” Another pause. Despite all the humiliation he’d experienced so far at Mrs. Warren’s hand, he still was not comfortable talking about these things with her. Especially if a spanking, or worse, was likely afterward. “Well, I’ve been very good, you know, not touching myself at all. Very good. I promise. But last night, I don’t know what happened. I think I must have had one of those dreams.” “One of what dreams, Doug?” Mrs. Warren asked, already knowing the answer. This was a wonderful development. If he was trying to be good, but his body ended up having periodic nocturnal emissions anyway, then Doug was essentially signed up for life with her. She didn’t have to worry about whether or not he was good. She’d be regularly supplied with reasons to keep him on probation indefinitely. “I think it’s called a, um, wet dream,” he answered, blushing. “A what?” “You know, a wet dream. I went to sleep, and when I woke up I had, you know, that sticky sperm stuff in my diaper. Only I didn’t ever touch myself. I was asleep.” Mrs. Warren sighed audibly into the phone. “Okay, Doug,” she said. “It sounds like I need to come see you today. I should be able to squeeze you in in an hour or so. Meanwhile, keep that diaper out for me. I want to see it when I get there.” “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said nervously, and they hung up. She was coming over. This was probably a bad sign. And this time, he’d walked right into it. But he remained hopeful that his willingness to confess would be taken into consideration. On the other hand, would she even believe his story? When she arrived, she took him upstairs and made him show her the diaper. With great embarrassment, he pointed to the semen-stained disposable he’d laid out on his bed. She peered closely at the evidence and clucked loudly at him. “Doug, this is so disappointing. I thought you were being such a good baby for me.” “I am, Mommy,” he protested. “I’m trying. You have to believe me. This has never happened to me before, and I’m upset about it, too. I know I’m not supposed to touch myself.” She smiled at him, obviously earnest in his desire to please her. He’d certainly come a long way in several months. He didn’t even flinch now when he called her “Mommy.” And she knew he was telling the truth. “I believe you, Doug, and I think that you really do want to be good. Up in your head you’ve learned what’s right and wrong. The problem is,” she said, shaking her head with the appropriate amount of sadness showing in her face, “that the rest of your body still hasn’t learned. No matter how good you’ve been, I certainly can’t have my babies ejaculating, can I?” “No, Mommy,” Doug agreed. “So I need to punish you, to help teach your body what’s right and wrong. And like last time, I’ll give you a choice. I can either give you a spanking today, and then let you wear the chastity device for a week to help your problem, or I can just let you wear the device for three weeks, without a spanking. Which would you rather have?” Doug swallowed hard. Much as he disliked the chastity device, he’d learned his lesson from the last choice he’d made. He knew what she wanted. “I’d like the chastity device for three weeks, please, Mommy,” he said meekly. “Good boy,” Mrs. Warren said approvingly. He certainly remembered lessons. “And because you’ve been so honest with me, I’ll only make you wear the thigh straps for the first week, if you’re a good boy. How does that sound?” Better than a spanking, he thought. “But if this happens again, Doug, I may need to start spanking you as well, to help your body learn better. And this time, and every time in the future, I’m afraid I’ll need to extend your probation period another three months.” This way, she could continue to give him the occasional spanking, for fun, and be sure to keep him around forever. Whatever, Doug thought. I’m out of this program in seven weeks. You can keep me on probation as long as you want. It won’t affect me after I’m out! “Yes, Mommy.” And so began Doug's second period of enforced celibacy, which he found, to his disappointment, no easier than the first. But the time passed, and if it got him closer to getting out of this damned program, then it was worth being good and playing along. The next week Doug noticed that the diapers delivered by Mrs.Warren were in a different package. They still said “BRIEFS, LARGE; ADULT DIAPERS'' on them, but in big letters next to this were the words, “NEW; MORE ABSORBENT.” He also noted that he didn’t receive any stuffer pads to go in them. Mrs. Warren saw his confusion. “Mrs. Sheffield has redesigned your diapers so that they are thicker and more absorbent. Apparently she received enough suggestions about this from our clients that she thought it would be worthwhile adjusting the product line.” She smiled at him, knowing full well that Doug himself had asked for a diaper like this before he’d known he’d be forced to wear it. “They are now thick enough that you don’t need to use pads in them any longer. You ought to be very thankful that she cares that much for your comfort. I’d like to see a thank-you note for her by tomorrow from you, expressing your appreciation for her help in your incontinence control. I’ll pick it up and deliver it myself. She’s a wonderful woman, you know,” she said. Wonderfully naive and overly trusting, she didn’t say. Mrs. Warren was thrilled about the new diapers, since they were much more similar to the prototype worn by real babies, and this made them all that much more effective in belittling her clients. They were so good that she briefly considered switching all of her baby boys to them, even those in cloth diapers. But she also knew that fetishists were extremely particular with their desires, and she wanted every boy to be stimulated maximally by the diaper he wore. The benefits reaped from such an arrangement far outweighed the convenience brought by putting everyone in these nice disposables. Doug listened and grimaced slightly, recognizing the irony in the situation. Months ago, when he’d asked for it, he would have appreciated such a product, since it played into his infantile fantasies so well. But now that it was no longer a fantasy, he couldn’t really enjoy what was clearly the perfect adult diaper for fetishists. He wondered briefly if other AB’s would at least get to enjoy this product, at his expense. He ended up liking the change, though, since the new diapers were simpler and a better product. And they weren’t any more noticeable than wearing a pad under a regular adult diaper. The time spent in the chastity device slowly passed, and when he emerged for the second time, in late March, he began to think about the future. With only a couple of weeks remaining until he got out of the program in late April, he started dreaming about his soon-to-be-normal-again life. He had recently learned that he had indeed been accepted into the grad program, and would therefore spend around six or seven years here working on a masters and doctoral degree. Spring was just starting to add leaves to the trees and flowers to the gardens. He would soon be allowed to visit a doctor and get out of this ridiculous program. All in all, things were definitely looking up. Okay, he thought to himself, it’s technically not quite a “lock” that I’ll get out. But if the doctor isn’t directly employed by TIC or The Drugstore, then he’s *got" to recognize that it would be absurd to call me incontinent. Before all this started, I hadn’t had any accidents since I was three years old. I’ve never had any trouble with incontinence. And I look young and healthy. Only an idiot would look at me and agree with Mrs. Warren. It’s finally time to inject a reasonable opinion into the decisions about my life. So Doug asked Mrs. Warren for the list of doctors recommended by TIC to judge his continence. The list included eight physicians in the area, and since Doug knew they couldn’t all be “fixed” and under Mrs. Warren’s control, he felt comfortable with it. He immediately set about deciding who he would go see; it was an important decision. Two were women, and instinctively he crossed them off the list. He’d been embarrassed too often over these last few months to trust a woman with this decision. With his luck she would think he looked cute in diapers and would want to keep him that way. No, he’d pick a male, who would be rational and concrete and impartial. After some deliberation he chose Dr. Bruce Mitchell, who ran a generalist practice just outside of town. He’d heard other lab workers who went to him say that he was very good. He probably couldn’t do any better than that. So he made the appointment for the very day of the six month anniversary (luniversary?) of the signing of his contract for his ICP. He told Mrs. Warren that this would be his last day in the program, and to his annoyance, she just nodded and smiled at him, as if she knew something he didn’t. In his paranoia, he took this as an indication that she knew this doctor well, and so he called and cancelled this appointment, making another for the same day with another highly recommended doctor in town from the list, Dr. John Bryant. When Doug called Mrs. Warren to tell her of this new appointment, she had to smile. This was certainly the Doug she’d grown to know and enjoy over the winter, unflinchingly naive, persistently optimistic, and still completely unaware of the game they were playing. He thought it made a difference which doctor he went to. That was cute. Well, he’d find out soon enough. All in all, she thought, Doug had turned out to be a wonderful client. He thought he was smart, so he’d tested the rules at the beginning, allowing her to exercise her talent at punishment to a satisfying degree. He’d made great progress in his incontinence, as far as she was concerned, and she had no doubt what the result of his doctor visit would be. She’d prepared him well. He was hers for as long as she wanted his money, which, at this point, was indefinite. And, at least until his appointment, he was completely in the dark, and so was unflappably enthusiastic about his chances at getting out of the program. He’d also learned enough lessons by now to make him nearly perfectly docile, the ideal client, who, as time went by, would need less and less care, so that she could concentrate on the new ones. Already, she had several newer boys that she needed to focus on. They were still defiant, still drank from glasses, still wore regular pajamas to bed, still probably masturbated regularly. Doug was nearly completely infantilized, and, as such, was now completely subject to her blackmail. He would never attempt to explain to others how he had been “made” to wear bibs or those hysterical feminine sleepers, or been “forced” to sit in his own poop, or drink from bottles. He was so far in that he’d never, ever consider rebelling. So he was hers. Mrs. Warren savored the thought: even as Doug prepared for his “big” appointment, he was hers. Chapter 14 Doug entered the exam room indicated by the nurse. He nervously waddled over to the examination table and uncertainly set down the pink diaper bag that Mrs. Warren had forced him to bring today. He normally took it everywhere, of course, but he had asked if he might be allowed to leave it at home just this once. Today was different for the reason that he wanted to make a good impression on the doctor. However, since he was forced to bring the bag, he was now simply hoping he’d have five minutes or so before the doctor came in so that he could take off his diaper and hide his bag, since both of those clues might make the doctor think he really was incontinent. The worst thing that could happen today, now that he had endured the whole six months, would be if the doctor really mistook him for someone who was incontinent. He had to put his best foot forward and present himself as he was, someone who was in an absurd situation and who just needed a little backup here to get out. But instead of leaving him alone in the room, the nurse followed him in, leaving the door open behind her. “And what are you here to see the doctor about today?” she asked casually, straightening some jars on the counter. Doug was surprised. He hadn’t thought he’d have to tell anyone besides the doctor about his situation. He was embarrassed about it, of course, and didn’t want to go through it with anyone else. “I’d rather just talk to the doctor,” he said, apologetically, trying not to hurt her feelings. He needn’t have worried. “Yes, that’s fine, but you need to let me know the nature of the problem first,” she insisted. She held his chart in her hand, and clearly wanted to write his complaint on it for the doctor. Doug began to get flustered. “But…but it’s personal,” he said. She was pretty. He didn’t want her to know. She looked at him with cool professionalism, telling him with her eyes that he couldn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before. “Yes, I’m sure it is. Everyone’s problems are personal. But I need to know so I can decide how best to prepare you for the doctor’s examination. You just need to give me a clue.” He paused. There seemed to be no way out of it. “I guess I need to talk to him about…well, incontinence.” This caught her attention. Doug started to blush as he felt her eyes sweep over him and come to rest on his diaper bag, next to his feet. “I see,” she commented after a moment. She turned and opened a cabinet under the counter, removing from it a bright blue pad. “Are you wearing any kind of…protection?” He hesitated while the nurse spread out the pad, which was plastic on one side and absorbent gauze on the other, on the examination table. Doug blushed even more when he realized that she was putting it there to protect the table from him. When he didn’t answer right away, she gave him an expectant glance. He didn’t want to tell her, because then they’d all think he was really incontinent. “Uh, no. It’s just a little problem. I don’t even think it’s really a problem. I just need to talk to him about it.” She walked back over to the counter and picked up his chart again. “Hm. It looks like you’re wearing something,” she observed coolly, staring at his groin, which bulged obviously. “What kind?” Shoot. She can tell. “Oh, uh, this,” Doug stammered, staring down. “I don’t need this, it’s just…well, I don’t even know why I have it on.” “Uh-huh,” she said doubtfully. “What I asked was, what is it?” she repeated firmly. “Oh, well, it’s a, um, a brief,” he mumbled under his breath. He hadn’t heard or used that term in over six months, since he’d first talked to Mrs. Sheffield for the first time that fateful day in the drugstore. Since then, of course, it had always been a “diaper.” The other word sounded funny now. “What?” the nurse asked. Doug silently cursed. He’d said it too softly. Now he’d have to say it again. He was now painfully aware of the open door. “A, uh, brief,” he repeated, louder. How much more could he blush in front of her? She stared at him for a minute, before her eyes darted back down to his crotch and a look of comprehension crossed her face. “Oh,” she said, winking at him. “Sorry, I just hadn’t heard that word for it.” Doug could have died. “Okay, well, I need you to take everything off except your diaper, and sit up here on the blue pad,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be back in a minute to get your blood pressure and temp.” She started out of the room, but then reconsidered, reaching down under the table and bringing out a short cotton gown, which she handed him. “Just in case you’re modest,” she explained, smiling. And then she left the room, closing the door behind her. Doug was sort of in shock. That hadn’t gone as planned. He felt ridiculous for calling a “brief” what was obviously a diaper, and he felt even worse when she essentially corrected him, using the more infantile term. Worst of all, now she wanted him to wear it for the examination. That would make a great impression. He could understand why she’d want someone who was incontinent to wear their “protection” during the exam, but it came at a very bad time for him. She didn’t look like she believed him that it was only a little problem. She thought he needed diapers. What would the doctor think? She seemed pretty astute and strong-willed, so he knew he’d probably have to do what she said. Nurses had always scared him a little anyway. He didn’t really have the courage to confront her about not wanting to wear his diaper in front of the doctor; anyway, it wouldn’t help: she’d just tell the doctor he was wearing one, and the result would be the same. He’d lost the first round here. But he could still win the war. He had to. He felt as though his life depended on it. He dejectedly took his shirt off and put the gown on, noting that it barely reached his waist. Useless. He slipped his shoes, socks, and pants off and looked at himself in the mirror on the back of the exam room door. He looked stupid standing there in his diaper and the little gown. And then he looked closer and noticed something: it looked like his diaper’s indicator was now mostly blue. But when had he wet himself? He didn’t know. Now, he’d have to… Suddenly the door swung wide open and the nurse breezed in. She stopped cold at the sight of him in his wet diaper, and through the wide open door, Doug saw two other nurses staring at him as well. He was being gawked at, in his wet diaper, by the office staff. Great. He wanted to go home. But no time for that. His own nurse closed the door and, trying to suppress a laugh, shook her head and said, “Okay, little guy, let’s hop up on the table like I told you.” Completely chagrined, Doug waddled back to the table and hoisted himself onto it, positioning himself obediently over the blue underpad. His diaper rustled loudly, a fact the nurse clearly appreciated. But she was able to avoid laughing outright, and she efficiently took his blood pressure and pulse at his side. She wrote these numbers down, then said, “Okay, just the temp.” She walked over to the cabinets above the counter in front of him and opened the closest, blocking it from Doug’s sight with her body and exposing a small bin of thermometers that read “ORAL” on the front of it. She grunted softly with dissatisfaction and pushed it out of the way to reveal another bin behind it with the label, “RECTAL.” She reached in and pulled out a thermometer, shook it down, and dunked it into a waiting jar of vaseline, pulling out with it a large glob of petroleum jelly. Doug couldn’t see what the nurse was doing, but he had no reason to suspect anything unusual. So though it didn’t quite make sense to him when the nurse, still facing away from him, asked him to lie back and relax, he did it without thinking. But when she turned and approached him a moment later, one hand holding the thermometer with the gooey vaseline on it, the other reaching out to untape his diaper, he sat bolt upright and grabbed the outstretched hand. “Hey, what’re you doing?” he said, not quite sure what was going on. “You just lie back and be a good boy. We’ll be done in a couple of minutes.” Doug was slowly catching on, and couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t really be talking about sticking that thing in there. “But that’s not how you…” “Ah, ah,” the nurse chided, as if to a child. “First let’s get this in, then we can talk.” Talk with the thermometer in? he thought. That definitely meant she wanted to do it rectally. Despite his fear of nurses, he had to protest this. “But that’s a rectal thermometer,” he said quickly, pointing out what he still hoped was a mistake. She nodded. “That’s right. It goes in your bottom. I just need you to lie down so I can undo your diaper.” That wasn’t a good enough explanation for him. This was so humiliating. And he couldn’t let her see that he was hairless down there. This was horrible. He had to fight this. “But that’s for babies.” “Uh-huh,” she said brightly, as if he’d answered his own question. “But I’m not a baby. You don’t need to do it that way.” “Well, but you are wearing diapers, and that’s the rule. It may not make much sense to you, but it’s for your own safety. The insurance companies require us to do it this way with anyone in diapers, something about competence and the safety risk of putting mercury in your mouth. I know you’re not the normal diaper-wearer, but the office has to follow the policy. I could get fired for breaking that rule. Do you want me to get fired?” she asked him. “Well, no, but…” “Okay. Well, then, I need you just to lie back and relax.” She tried to push him back gently with her free hand. Doug started to whine. “Please, couldn’t you just make an exception?” “No. I told you, I’ll get fired. Now we can do this nicely, or I can call and get some help, and we can hold you down. It’s your choice. But we’re going to do it,” she told him sternly. He could do nothing but hang his head. “Okay,” he said in frustration. He just hated being treated like a baby by everyone. “You don’t have to hold me down. I just don’t understand.” He allowed her to lay him back. He stared at the ceiling, hoping this visit would improve. She undid his tapes with her free hand, and pulled his diaper down between his legs. He felt her pause as she obviously took in the sight of his bald crotch, but then she collected herself, and instructed him to spread his legs and lift them way up, so that his knees were on his chest. He did this automatically. He’d been cleaned and changed enough by now to know how. He closed his eyes as he felt her separate his cheeks and slip the cold, slimy thermometer inside. He couldn’t help flinching at this shocking sensation. “Sorry it’s cold. It should warm up.” Doug nodded and felt a tear slide down one cheek. This was just so humiliating. He felt her fingers against his skin down there, firmly holding the thermometer in its place. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, hoping it would all end soon. Finally he felt it exiting, and for a second thought that he was accidentally having a BM. He yanked his head up to look down there, but all he saw was the nurse wiping off the now-brownish thermometer with a tissue, reading it, and writing down the number. She grabbed another tissue and brought it over to him, wiping the vaseline off of his bottom. As she did this, she commented, “That’s quite a wet diaper you’ve got there. Did you bring a spare?” Doug could only nod shamefully as he stared upward. This was so painful. He thought she was about to suggest one or the other of them change him, but she seemed to change her mind. She pulled his wet diaper up between his legs and retaped him tightly, saying, “Well, I’m sure you can wait until after the doctor sees you. Then you can be sure to have a dry diaper to go home in.” Doug heard a door slam down the hall. “Ah, he must be ready for you, so we don’t have time to change you anyway. He’ll be in in just a second.” She helped him sit up, and then left the room. The nurse found Dr. Bryant in the hall and told him his next patient was ready. “What’s this one?” the doctor replied, working on a note on the previous patient. “Incontinence,” she answered, smiling at him meaningfully. Seeing a quizzical look in response, she explained, “Another one of those young men with diapers and absolutely no control. This one’s diaper is soaked.” “Another one?” Dr. Bryant shook his head in amazement. “I’ve got to talk to Linda Warren. Where does she find them?” “As if you don’t like the referrals,” the nurse teased. “Well, of course, it is good business for us,” he agreed. “But it’s just so strange. My whole career I don’t see any of them, and then in the last few years, it’s like one every couple of months, all under the nursing care of Linda. Very odd. Well, I’m not complaining. Did you get this one’s temp rectally?” “Of course,” she said. “I know the drill. And of course, he put up the requisite fuss, but he eventually bought the line about insurance and office policy. Same as the others.” “That is a good excuse. And I know they all seem to object, but remember what Linda told us: they like being treated that way. She says they only object because they know we’ll tell her, and they’ll get into trouble with her.” “And they like that? I’ve heard she does some of that S&M stuff with them to punish them.” “I know. It’s crazy. But she insists they like it. And I knew Linda when she worked here, and I trust her. I also know for a fact that there are people out there, probably more than most folks would guess, who do get off on that sort of thing. Far be it from me to judge them.” “The thing I really don’t understand is why they would come to you like they do.” “Well,” Dr. Bryant said, stroking his chin, “That is the confusing part.” He thought a moment. “Linda tells me that they enroll in this little `program’ of hers because they clearly want to be babies again, which is fine. Whatever floats their boat, you know? But then, exactly six months to the day after they enroll, they come crawling in here saying they don’t like it after all. Infancy, it seems, is not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said, laughing. The nurse also laughed; diapers didn’t seem like that much fun to her. “But at this point, I must say that I don’t feel much sympathy for them. In my opinion, if you want to make your bed, you’ve got to lie in it, too. What they do is, they spend six months intensively regressing themselves back to babies, and doing it very successfully, I might add, and then they want to grow up all at once. Well, it just doesn’t work that way. They all want to be told that they’re continent and ready to resume their lives, when, as you know, they’re completely incontinent, just as they wanted to be. It’s totally irrational. And then they want me to help them, now that they’ve done all this to themselves.” “But you can’t do anything, for that, can you?” the nurse asked. “Not a thing,” he replied. “They’ve completely deconditioned their sphincters. What can I do to help them? So I tell them the truth, which often surprises them for some reason, though I can’t imagine why. What kind of an idiot do you have to be not to realize that if you fully regress yourself, you’ll just have to do the work growing up again?” He finished up the chart note from the prior patient. “There’s no shortcut. The best I can do is be honest, and, for fun, play into their little game as much as I can. That’s why I ask you to rectalize them, as gross as that may be for you. It’s probably the only thing they get out of this visit.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” the nurse said graciously. “In fact, it’s kind of fun, especially seeing the look on their faces when I come at them with the thermometer all covered with vaseline. I’ve seen several of them wet their diapers on the spot.” They both shared a chuckle at the idea. “It’s fine until you run into a messy diaper,” she said. “Then it’s not so funny.” She wrinkled up her face. “Oh, was this one messy?” the doctor asked. “No, no. Just wet. Haven’t had a messy one in quite a while.” “Yes, that’s odd, actually,” he said. “Because without exception, they’re incontinent of bowel as well. I’m surprised we don’t see more of it.” “Yes, well, I’m just as happy this way,” the nurse laughed. “Okay. One other thing. Was he shaved clean down there?” The nurse nodded, smiling. “As a whistle.” The doctor chuckled. “Alright. Well, where is this one’s chart?” “In the door, waiting for you. Be nice, he looks very embarrassed.” “Yeah, but Linda says that’s part of it. They like the humiliation.” “Whatever. Don’t be long. Drug lunch when you’re done.” “Okay, thanks.” Dr. Bryant glanced at the chart and opened the door. He entered the room, took in the sight of Doug sitting in his wet diaper, collected himself quickly, stuck out his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Bryant. You must be Doug. What can I do for you today?” Doug cleared his throat, looked down at his wet diaper, and said, “Well, it’s a long story, but the bottom line is, I’m being forced to wear these because some crazy woman thinks I’m incontinent. But I’m not, and only if you write me a note saying I’m continent will she let me not wear them. So I need you to tell her I’m perfectly continent, and that’s all.” Dr. Bryant shook his head. Amazing how they all knew the script so well. But he’d have to tell Linda this one said she was crazy. That was rich. “Let’s slow down, and start at the beginning. When did this all start?” He knew the answer before it was said, but he had to go through the whole thing with each one. “Six months ago,” Doug replied. “This lady made me enroll in a program where I have to wear these because she says I’m incontinent. But it’s just not true. It hasn’t been true since I was three years old.” “Then why did you enroll in the first place? Why did you agree to wear diapers?” This seemed like the critical issue, and these guys could never explain it to his satisfaction, an indication that this story about not liking it was pretty flimsy. “She made me…have an accident,” Doug confessed. “Then she made me sign a contract, and so now I have to wear diapers, or…” He stopped short. He wasn’t sure how much he really wanted to tell him. It was all so humiliating. “Or what?” the doctor prompted. You never knew when you might hear something so new and perverted it was interesting. Doug hesitated. The doctor just stared at him, waiting. “Or else, she, um, well, spanks me.” It was perfect. The diapers, the spanking, the faked embarrassment. Well, free country, right? He had nothing at all against a good kink. And he was making money, too. Might as well play along. It would be fun, Linda would appreciate it, and the boy probably would, too. “So then. Have you been a good boy and worn your diaper the whole time?” Doug nodded, ashamed. “Good. So what’s the problem? You’re being good, wearing your diapers, so why are you here?” This wasn’t going right, Doug thought. Why isn’t the doctor more shocked? “Because I need you to write a note, saying I don’t have to wear these.” Maybe the boy would appreciate a little teasing before being examined. “What makes you think that?” Doug began to get a little flustered. “Because I’m a grown-up! I know how to use a toilet. I’m not a baby!” “But from where I sit, you look like you’re wearing a soaking wet diaper. What’s to convince me you’re continent?” the doctor asked with a look of mock confusion on his face. “Because I am!” Doug exclaimed. “I never had accidents before she made me wear them. It’s just because she locked my toilets that I use these. I wouldn’t otherwise.” “Hmmm,” the doctor said doubtfully. That was enough, he thought. No need to torment the guy. The nurse was right: he’s pretty pathetic. Maybe this time he’ll actually have some control, and I can write him a little note. It honestly appears that it would make this one happy. I’d sure be glad to do it. “Well, I should examine you to settle this question.” He went over to the counter and got a glove and some lubricant. “I need you to lie back for me.” Doug did so quickly, knowing this was necessary. At last, he was being taken seriously. After six months someone finally was entertaining the notion that he was continent. Finally, his chance. He’d show them all. He laid still as he felt the doctor untape his diaper and pull it down between his legs once more. Doug lifted his knees spontaneously, up to his chest, which exposed his hairless groin to the doctor. “Alright, just relax. I’m going to check your sphincter tone down here.” And Doug felt the doctor’s cold, slimy finger push its way into his anus and probe around. He tried to tighten his bottom when the doctor said to do so. Then the doctor withdrew his finger and threw the glove away, silently. Doug was dying to know the result of the exam, but he was too scared to ask. So much depended on this result. He lowered his legs. “Alright, let’s check your urinary control. Do you think you could pee for me right now?” Doug nodded, though he didn’t know why that was important. The doctor pulled his diaper up through his legs again and held it an inch away from his hairless penis and testicles, so that the doctor could still watch but would be protected. “Alright, I want you to start peeing in a moment, right here, into your diaper, like you always do. The only difference is that I am going to watch, and after you’ve started, I’m going to ask you to try to stop peeing. When I say so, I want you to try to stop as quickly and completely as you can. Understand?” Doug nodded, grasping the test laid out before him. This would be it. “Go,” the doctor said. “Pee into your diaper.” Doug tried to push, which was a strange and ancient feeling for him. He hadn’t needed to try to pee in many months. It always just came out. But he managed to get a stream going. He heard it hitting the diaper above his penis, but because the diaper was already wet, he also felt it drip off the diaper and run down his bottom underneath. “Stop!” Dr. Bryant said, and Doug tried. It was finally time to get back on that bike. He tried to clamp down, to stop that stream, but it seemed very difficult. The stream seemed very strong. Surely he couldn’t be expected to stop it completely? That seemed impossible. Slowing the stream down was probably enough, but the wetness that kept running down his bottom made him think maybe he couldn’t do that very well. Well, but this must be an advanced test. He probably got some points for being able to start peeing on cue, right? When he finally dribbled to a halt, Dr. Bryant said, “How much do you have left? Can you go anymore?” But he couldn’t. He was drained. His bladder had fully emptied. Dr. Bryant nodded, and laid the front of the diaper onto his abdomen. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands. “Do you have a dry diaper to change into for your trip home? If not, I’m sure the nurse could find one here for you.” Doug said, “I’ve got one,” quietly. This wasn’t a good sign. The doctor dried his hands and turned toward him. “Why don’t you take a moment to get cleaned up and into a dry diaper, and you can get dressed, too. I’ll be back in a moment to talk to you. Oh, to whom did you want me to write that letter?” Doug’s heart leapt. This doctor was wonderful! He was going to write it anyway! He must have done better than he’d thought. Or maybe he felt sorry for him. But either way, his life wasn’t over after all! He’d show that bitch. “Linda Warren,” he said brightly, and gave him her address and telephone number to the doc when he asked. The doctor left, and Doug hopped down, wrapped up the wet diaper and put it in the bag he’d brought for the purpose. He still probably had to turn it in at the end of the week. He used one of his wipes to clean himself off, and then got a clean diaper out of his bag. But then he stopped. He didn’t need this diaper, he thought to himself, joyously. He was out of the program. Suddenly, however, another few drops of urine squeezed out, onto the blue underpad. Doug reddened as he thought of how the nurse would see that and feel vindicated that she had made him sit on it. In light of that, he decided that maybe wearing this last diaper home wasn’t such a huge concession. Just to be safe. How great that sounded! His last diaper! What a great day, even when it hadn’t started so well. His whole life now seemed brighter than it had yesterday. Unconsciously he rubbed his penis as he arranged the diaper on the table and sat on top of it. He needed to masturbate so badly. It had been so many weeks. But he could when he got home! Whenever he wanted! And let his hair grow! And use the toilets! And wear big boy underpants! And wear normal pajamas, and use real glasses, and not wear bibs. He taped himself in for what he told himself was the very last time. That bitch. How had he ever let her control him, make him wear diapers, spank him like a baby? How foolish he’d been, really, looking back on it all today. It was really crazy what she’d convinced him to do. But he was a new man today. Beyond all that crap with that silly ICP. No more crap from anyone. He got dressed and sat in the chair next to the table. After several minutes, Dr. Bryant walked in and said, “Ah, good, you’re ready. Dry diaper? Good, I’m sure that’s much more comfortable. Well, I went ahead and called Mrs. Warren, so everything’s all set.” Doug’s face lit up. Called her himself! That was great! She’d have to believe the doctor himself. “Thank you so much, Dr. Bryant. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Dr. Bryant looked slightly confused. “Er, uh, no problem. She said to tell you that she’d be waiting at your apartment with next week’s supply of diapers. You know, that’s service for you! You must enjoy that,” he said, earnestly trying to imagine. Doug stared at him. “What do you mean, next week’s diapers? Didn’t you tell her I’m not incontinent?” The doctor stared back. “Of course not. I told her the truth: you need your diapers like a fish needs water. You continent? I’d lose my license for that,” he chuckled. Doug, however, was not laughing. “But…oh, my God. I didn’t want you to tell her that. Oh, no, you didn’t…” Dr. Bryant stopped chuckling and tried to figure out what was wrong with this scene. “But of course I had to. I have newborn patients with more control than you. Your anal tone was completely nonexistent, and you dribble more than an entire basketball team!” He’d started laughing again. It was just so absurd. But he stopped when he saw how upset Doug looked. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear. I assumed you had to know it.” Doug shook his head. Probably he did know it, but hadn’t yet confronted it as reality. How could he face it? It didn’t make any sense. “But I don’t understand why I’m this way now. I really never had any problems before. How could it have just happened?” Dr. Bryant saw how devastated Doug looked, and he was once again struck by this particular boy’s vulnerability. He looked like he really didn’t understand and perhaps needed a good explanation. Dr. Bryant sat down in front of Doug. “Doug, when was the last time you used a toilet?” Doug could recall the day and the time perfectly. It was the morning six months ago when Mrs. Warren had awakened him with her knocking. He’d stumbled into the bathroom and peed into (and around) the downstairs toilet. It seemed so long ago. “Six months ago, to the day.” “And have you tried to hold your bladder and bowels during the last six months at all? I mean, when did you give up caring whether or not you controlled yourself?” Doug thought about it. This question was harder. “Well, I guess I stopped caring right away. I mean, why not? It didn’t help to wait, `cause I still had to use the diapers. I couldn’t get out of it, no matter what. So I didn’t even try.” The doctor nodded. “And do you even have to think about it now?” Doug shook his head. “No, but actually that’s great. It’s the one nice thing about this diaper thing. I don’t even notice when I pee these days. I mean, if I have to use the diapers, I’m glad I don’t have to think about it. But how does that have anything to do with this? I’m older than a toddler, even if she doesn’t treat me that way. Why can’t I control myself?” Dr. Bryant thought for a second, trying to use a good analogy. “Doug, have you ever broken a bone?” Doug nodded. What the heck did that have to do with anything? “Was it in a cast?” “Yeah. For six weeks.” “And at the end of the six weeks, what did your arm feel like?” Doug tried to remember. “It was pretty weak. I couldn’t do anything with it at first, and it got really tired very quickly.” The doctor nodded at him. “That’s because of something called atrophy. Muscles sort of waste away when you don’t use them. It’s possible to completely lose function in them. Now imagine if you’d had that cast on for six months.” Finally Doug understood. He thought for a moment. “So I’m just weak? Or did I lose it completely?” This could be horrible news. Dr. Bryant considered this. “Well, I don’t think you’ve lost use completely, although I can’t be sure.” “So I could get it back?” "Perhaps. If you try to use those muscles again. But it won’t be easy, Doug. There is a developmental principle that applies here. It has to do with milestones. When a child gets sick, he often regresses slightly with the illness, so that he loses the most recent milestone he has learned. This happens all the time with bedwetting in four- or five-year-olds. If they get sick, or stressed, they start wetting the bed again. This has been well- observed and documented in the literature.” Dr. Bryant sat back in his chair. “That’s no big deal, though, because when they get better, they can regain that milestone. The problem is, it generally takes twice as long for a child to regain a milestone as it did for him to lose it. And that’s with intense training. So say a kid is in traction for two weeks and forgets how to walk. It’ll take a month of full-time training for him to get it back. We don’t know why this is so, but it is a universal observation.” This sounded kind of ominous to Doug. He could do the math, but he didn’t want to. “What are you saying?” he asked quietly. “I’m telling you that you could potentially regain control, but I’d estimate that to get back to where you were it would take at least a year of formal, full-time toilet training, probably in some kind of organized program. Until you finish this type of training, you will almost certainly have to wear diapers. It’s just like you were starting from scratch again, like a baby, and you need to wear diapers just like a baby.” Now the doctor leaned toward him. “And because of what you’ve done to yourself, it’ll take twice as long to get better as it did to get this way. You’ll be in diapers for at least another year, Doug. That’s what I’m telling you.” Doug’s mouth dropped open. Another year. “And that’s if you start a formal potty-training program immediately. I don’t think you could retrain yourself on your own: it’s simply too difficult. You’ll need someone’s help in this.” The doctor smiled here. “Luckily, you’re already hooked up with someone who also runs a potty-training program like this. Mrs. Warren tells me she’ll be happy to continue working with you on this.” Doug sat motionless, trying to let this sink in. But it was so overwhelming, so devastating. “I might point out to you, Doug, that if you want control back sooner rather than later, you ought to get started as soon as possible. Every day you delay potty-training is additional two days after that in diapers. So every week prolongs things by three weeks. This thing, unless you get on top of it quickly, could drag out into several years of difficult training. Do you understand?” Doug nodded numbly. And as he sat there listening to his doctor explain the medical reality of his situation to him, he really did begin to understand. For the first time since this entire thing started, Doug began to comprehend fully what was happening. It was clear to Doug that Mrs. Warren knew all of this. She’d been a nurse, so she’d have to know about atrophy, and milestones, and retraining. His chronic suspicions that she enjoyed embarrassing him blossomed into the realization that she’d done all of this to him on purpose. Everything she’d done had been to make him lose control, from the very first glass of diaper juice. Why? he wondered. Money, perhaps, since he paid her. And if she really had dozens of other “babies,” then she probably made quite a bundle. But there had to be more. She was smart and skilled enough that she could make money doing anything. No, she also had to like this. And the more he considered it, the more he realized that she liked nothing more than seeing him suffer, even from the first accident in the bathtub. She loved to find excuses to spank him, to humiliate him, to degrade him. And this lady was so mean, so smart, and so capable, that she had figured out a way to make her living from it. As the insight began to form, it gained momentum and flooded Doug’s consciousness. He even began to see why she had made him wait six months before going to the doctor. It had to be long enough to assure that he’d lose all bladder and bowel control. And just as she had planned, he had. He cursed himself. How could he not have figured this out before today? He’d played along, at every step of the way. “I’ll just go along with it until tomorrow, or next week, or in a few months,” he’d said, again and again, each time walking further down this fateful path to where he sat today. Today, when he realized that he now needed Mrs. Warren and her diapers. Now he was exactly what she’d said he was at the beginning: completely incontinent. Now, in addition to being locked in by that damned contract he’d signed, he actually needed her diaper service to control his incontinence. And he was obviously hers for the next whole year. Hers to torture, hers to diaper. But even more insight flooded in. Why should she stop at one year? She had a financial interest in his incontinence. He wasn’t even off of probation yet. Say it took another six months to make it off of probation, which he guessed was an underestimate, and then another six months to get to the retraining stage. Potty training would then take another three years after that. He was probably looking at four more years in diapers, and worse than that, four more years with Mrs. Warren. Did he even have the will to potty-train with her for three years? And, knowing her, wasn’t it likely that she would make it even longer than that, or send him back to diapers near the end just out of spite? Doug experienced an epiphany when he grasped that he would never be allowed out of his diapers, and now that he’d gone along with her for this long, he was now totally helpless to stop it. He was hers forever. And…no more orgasms. Ever. Over the following days and weeks, Doug would think back, remembering the day he’d first wandered into TIC’s clutches. He would wonder how he’d fallen for Mrs. Sheffield’s apparently false concern, wonder how she’d ever gotten his address and phone number. He would think about how he’d failed her phone survey test, how he’d volunteered for the incontinence test which had begun to undo him. He would recall every incident of humiliation and blackmail, which were now clearly designed solely to keep him in diapers long enough to lose control. He’d think about the evidence along the way that he was losing his control: the Bowel Encouragement horror, the accident on Emily’s lap during the spanking, the wetting at night. He had been so caught up with little things that now seemed trivial (“Will I have to use a bib for another week?” “I hope she’s not mad at me for coming home early.”) that he’d entirely missed the big issue. He would feel entirely embarrassed and defeated, unable to ignore the fact that he had unquestionably lost the most important battle of his life, and was now diaper-bound and dependent on a sadistic and opportunistic businesswoman interested in only two things: his pain and her money. He would have to submit totally to her will now, and he would have to give up ever escaping her. He would, again and again, think of Emily as the weeks and months rolled by, wondering where she was, what might have happened, had things been different. He would fantasize about her while awake and dream about her while asleep. And he would never give up hope that they might someday meet again in the future… And Doug would wonder about the other “clients” to which Mrs. Warren referred. Who were they? What kind of lives had they lost as their independence inevitably fell to the infantilization industry? And how many other ABs were there out there, blithely entering drugstores and medical supply stores to purchase adult diapers, never suspecting that a Mrs. Sheffield or Mrs. Warren might be waiting to lead them into their own versions of ICPs? Doug never imagined that such diabolical businesses operated behind the walls of the pharmacies where he had bought his diapers. How many other fetishists or ABs would unwittingly follow in his footsteps? Dr. Bryant had, of course, been watching as Doug worked through most of this, but though he wondered, he couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking. He did, however, have a lot of free food waiting for him at the drug luncheon, so he stood and offered Doug his hand. “Good luck,” he said. “You’ve got quite a long road ahead of you.” He couldn’t know how long. He started to leave, and turned just before he opened the door. “Oh, I’m sorry, but of course, I had to tell Mrs. Warren that you gave the nurse some trouble when she tried to take your temp. She didn’t sound too happy to hear that, but she said thank you and to tell you that you’d know what to expect when you got home. Sorry I forgot to tell you before; I guess I got a little distracted. At any rate, come back and see me if I can be of any help to you. Goodbye, Doug.” And he left. Doug did indeed know what to expect. He rubbed his padded bottom in expectation. He could just see Mrs. Warren smiling her all-knowing smile at him when he arrived home. Yes, for the first time in six months, Doug knew exactly what to expect. The End

Here's a new story inspired by Cya's story, Not Worth It. Hope you like it. ?? Chi-Chi walked over to Capsule Corp. She wished she had an excuse not to, but between still having the Flying Nimbus and Goku leaving with Shenron after the fight with Omega Shenron, she honestly had nothing better to do. Chi-Chi signed sadly. Both her sons had grown up, and her granddaughter, Pan, had just finished her freshman year at Orange Star High. She never felt lonelier, despite living next door to Gohan and Videl. So she was reluctantly happy to be called over by Bulma. Her old friend greeted her happily as she entered the building. Bulma's hair had grown out, being done up in a ponytail, and she wasn't wearing lipstick. She also wore a blue shirt with gray pants. "Glad you could make it!" Bulma said earnestly. "Come with me." The two walked to the far end of the lab as Chi-Chi looked at Bulma. "You know," Chi-Chi began. "Goku was right. You do look younger without lipstick." "Good to know." Bulma said, half sarcastically. "Look, I asked you here to try out a new invention with me." "Um," Chi-Chi asked nervously as Bulma led her into a room and locked the door behind them. "What kind of invention?" "Well," Bulma began. "Ever since I had Bulla, I got the idea in my head to make automated child care products. The initial nursery worked good, so I decided to branch out." "So what do you need me for?" Chi-Chi asked, already guessing the answer. "I need you to help me test my new inventions out." Bulma said eagerly. "Oh no!" Chi-Chi said flatly. "I'm not letting myself be manhandled while you sit behind a control panel!" "Actually, I'd be going in with you." Bulma explained. "Huh?" Chi-Chi asked, shocked at Bulma's confidence. "Do you know how boring it's been since Goku left?" Bulma argued. "I don't know." Chi-Chi said. "I'll pay you ten million zeni." Bulma said quickly. "Now I am." Chi-Chi said quickly. "Great!" Bulma said. "Don't worry about anyone catching us. Only a voice command from me can open the door." "Okay." Chi-Chi sighed. "What first?" "Those turnstiles will get us ready." Bulma explained. "Just pick one and walk through." Chi-Chi went through the one right in front of her as she realized she was on some kind of treadmill. As she was forced to continue in a circle, she felt her dress get removed, leaving only the green shirt she'd been wearing underneath it. She then sneezed as she felt talcum powder being rained down on her. Next, her panties were removed, and she felt a thick cloth get wrapped around her waist while she heard safety pins being opened before feeling a slight shiver as cold metal brushed against her thighs. Finally, she felt something get tied onto her head before the belt finally stopped, and she found herself on the other side of the door. Seeing a mirror, she realized that she was wearing a cloth diaper like she used to use on Gohan and Goten. She was also wearing a purple baby bonnet. She then saw Bulma emerge with a cloth diaper instead of her pants and a pink baby bonnet. "So, ready to go?" Bulma asked. "That's seriously something you're gonna sell?" Chi-Chi asked, pointing at the turnstile. "Oh no." Bulma said. "That's just to get us ready. The powder in there's designed to cloud the sensors of all the devices in here, or else the machines would know we're not babies." "Oh." Chi-Chi said, a little concerned. "Don't worry." Bulma said. "It wears off in two hours. Let's go." Chi-Chi shrugged as she followed Bulma through a maze of contraptions. To be continued...

Part 1 I had been working at a small company for a couple of years, my first real job out of college. I was naive, and made a few mistakes along the way, but had also made some good impressions with my boss, Mary. She seemed to value my work and my potential, and had started to act like a bit of a mentor. As VP of Operations, Mary certainly didn’t tolerate any nonsense, but she was also compassionate and supportive. A recent empty-nester (and longtime divorcée), it was clear she had a strong maternal side - firm, but caring. Mary was also easy on the eyes. She had a full, hourglass figure, dark hair and blue eyes. She was a smart dresser, professional but sexy in an authoritative way. There was no question she was the boss. As a horny, rather inexperienced 23-year old with a penchant for take-charge women, I was a bit smitten. I was, of course, always professional, but welcomed every opportunity to interact with Mary, and eagerly accepted her guidance. Over time, I eventually developed a fantasy of being privately scolded by her for making some mistake, then pulled over her lap for a solid spanking. The fantasy evolved, but always remained just a wild fantasy, until… I had been assigned to help on a proposal for a new client. It was a months long effort, but had the potential to be huge new business for the company. It was a stretch opportunity for me, and I was eager to show Mary I was up to the task. The deadline finally came to submit the proposal and we were editing down to the wire. Working well into the evening, eventually no one was left in the office but Mary and me. Finally finished with every last detail, I clicked submit on the online document repository, then got a prompt: “Documents loading … approximately 2 hours to full upload.” “Aww dammit!” I let my frustrations out. It was already after 9 pm! I’d be lucky to make it home by midnight. Suddenly Mary popped in my office. “Everything okay?” she asked. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” I blushed a bit. “The documents are loading, but it says it will take two hours before they’re fully received.” “Ah, bummer - all that work, now hurry up and wait…” she replied. “I don’t mind staying to wait for it to finish, you can head home,” I offered, trying to score some brownie points. “That’s ok,” Mary said. “How about I wait with you? I think there’s some wine leftover from the event last week, I’ll go dig it out. We should celebrate anyway, your first big client proposal!” She disappeared around the corner. My stomach fluttered. One on one time with Mary, after hours, with wine…! The evening was shaping up. Mary came back to my office and poured the wine. As she leaned over my desk to check the upload progress, I got a nice view down her blouse at her big tits. “Ugh, 1 hour 55 minutes,” she read, taking a big slug from her wine glass. “We’d better drink up.” She winked at me, and I followed her lead, taking a nice long gulp from my glass. Taking a seat in an empty chair across the office, Mary started in with small talk. The more we drank, the more we laughed. Eventually, the conversation came around to my first few weeks on the job. “Oh my,” Mary commented, “you were so fresh faced and eager, but a little clueless,” she giggled. “Sometimes I felt more like your babysitter than your boss!” I nearly choked on my wine, but managed to hold it together. I could feel myself blushing. I feigned indignation. “Oh what do you mean?? I could handle myself!” I said, laughing nervously. “Oh please. I had to constantly clean up your messes. Remember what you blurted out at that client meeting in your first week? You’d have been better off with a pacifier stuffed in your mouth!” she erupted in laughter. I could feel my face flush deep crimson. Mary stopped laughing and suddenly looked slightly concerned that she had crossed a line in her teasing. For my part, even though she had embarrassed me a bit, I desperately wanted to egg her on. I quickly took a gulp of liquid courage. “Ok, ok yeah that one was pretty dumb on my part,” I said, “but I wasn’t THAT bad. I mean, it’s not like you ever had to punish me!” I giggled. Mary raised an eyebrow. She seemed to study me for a moment, then slowly sipped her wine. “Well maybe I should have…” she said. Her words hung in the air. I let out a nervous giggle, anticipating what might come next. She stared at me intently, a half smile starting to curl on one side of her mouth. Her red lipstick glistening, her blue eyes seeming to pierce right through me. I reached for my wine glass and clumsily knocked it over, spilling across my desk. Mary gasped and jumped up. Grabbing some tissues, she started to mop up the wine from the desk top. “What did I say? Always cleaning up your messes,” she chided. “Next time I’ll have to remember to bring you a sippy cup.” I stood behind my desk feeling about two feet tall. Mary’s playful scolding was making me feel like a small child. And it was also turning me on. She finished wiping up the wine and tossed the tissues in the trash can. She leaned across my desk and checked my computer to see how long the upload still had. I again took the opportunity to ogle her voluptuous rack. “Ahem..” Mary cleared her throat. I snapped my gaze away from her tits to see she was staring me dead in the eyes. “About 35 minutes still…” “Now then, before you went ahead and proved my point about you needing someone to clean up after you, we were discussing the matter of your punishment. Or rather, lack thereof.” My mouth went dry. I was in a daze. Could I really be on the cusp of realizing my fantasy? Mary’s voice cut through, sharp and firm. “How long has it been since you were last spanked?” I smiled reflexively and nervously. My mouth was still too dry to speak, my brain too stunned to form words. I gaped back at her silently. “Well? Come on now… when was the last time someone pulled down your pants and put you across their knee for a good spanking??” she pressed. “I… um… well I guess… never really,” I stammered rather meekly. Sitting back in her chair she stared back at me. “Never???” she repeated incredulously. “Yeah, I mean, my parents didn’t really believe in that.” “My, my,” Mary shook her head. “And you never had a girlfriend give you a good smacked bottom?” she pried, a thin smile growing on her lips. I shook my head no. I had never worked up the courage to share my fantasies with anyone I had dated this far. By now, my cock was raging hard, bulging beneath my pants. I could hardly believe what was happening. “Well I think it’s time we fix that. I believe strongly that you’re never too old for a trip over the knee. And there’s no time like the present. Come on over here young man.” As if on a conveyor belt, I glided across the room to where she sat. Mary took my hands and directed me to her right side. Then with a quick tug she had me sprawled across her ample lap, face down with my butt skyward and exposed. “Since this is your first ever spanking, I’ll allow you to keep your pants up. But I’m warning you, if we have to repeat this any time soon, it will be on you bare little bottom. Understood?” Somehow I managed to squeak, “yes ma’am.” My cock pressed through my thin dress pants and into Mary’s thighs. Squeezing her legs together and acknowledging my bulging manhood, she commented, “It seems like someone is enjoying himself… let’s see how long that lasts.” CRACK! Her hand fell firm right in the middle of my cheeks. SMACK SMACK! She gave a few good hard slaps, the paused and rubbed my ass all over. My dick throbbed with anticipation, and worked its way deeper between her legs. Another volley landed, SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK!! The sting was real, but it felt strangely good, and made me buck and shift, rubbing my cock back and forth across Mary’s legs. My pleasure and anticipation grew as Mary alternated spanking and caressing my butt. “This is what happens… SMACK… to little boys …SMACK… who make big… SMACK… messes… SMACK… for their mommies… SMACK… to clean up …SMACK SMACK SMACK!” The scolding made my cock even stiffer. She began rubbing again. “That’s what you need, isn’t it?? A mommy to look after you. Clean you up when you make a mess. And… SMACK!! … spank… SMACK … your little … SMACK … bottom … SMACK … when you misbehave.” The barrage of spanks that followed were too much. As Mary spanked, my cock rubbed harder and faster against her thigh. The pressure became too much, and I spurted a hot puddle of cum into my underwear, groaning deeply as I did. Mary finished with a flurry across my backside, just as I finished blowing my load. She rubbed my butt for a minute while I caught my breath. “Ok, stand up young man,” she instructed. Still in a fog from my orgasm, I complied. “Oh my, just look at your pants you naughty boy!” I looked down. My light gray slacks had a massive wet spot in the crotch. Mary clicked her tongue and tsk, tsked me. “I knew you needed looking after.” She picked up some tissues and dabbed at my wet pants. It did little to clean the mess, and left fuzz on my crotch, further accentuating the stain. “Well we can’t send you home on the bus in this state. You stay right here, there’s a Walgreens around the corner and they’ll have everything we need.” Mary stood and took my chin in her hand. Looking me squarely in the eye, she said, “You’re not quite done being punished young man. I saw you peaking down my shirt earlier.” I blushed again, and swallowed hard. I stammered “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to… you just leaned over and … I’m sorry.” “Yes I know you’re sorry,” she winked at me. “But you still need to be punished.” Guiding me by my hips, she shifted me back behind my desk. Checking the upload she noted “oh good, only ten more minutes.” She continued pushing me by the hips past the desk and toward the wall. “Stand here with your nose in the corner until I come back. I’ll only be a few minutes.” Propping me in the corner with three sharp smacks to my tingling bottom, she added, “Don’t even think about stepping out of there. I’ll know if you do. And you won’t like what will happen next.” A final hard whack to my rear, and she was out the door.

Hey guys! Ever since writing 'Without Merit', I've been wanting to do a more 'classic'/'cliche' diaper story that focuses on the 'walls closing in' and the 'downward spiral into diapers'. A story without any sci-fi stuff attached and focus on the other elements that can get a college girl in diapers: blackmail, peer-pressure, coercion. This is a swing at that kind of story, I hope you guys like it. Warnings: A vulnerable character gets mistreated by people who think they're acting in her benefit. There are dark thoughts attached to being treated this way. There is some innuendo, but no bad language and no smoochie scenes. As always, thanks for reading. <Edit: I've changed to font to something more default, it looked good on computer screen, but I felt it was harder to read on a phone.> -------------------------------------------------------------- 1 First Impressions The first move into the dorm was a rite of passage for every college freshman. It was no different for Kerri Summers. There was something about putting the past eighteen years in the rearview before diving into the future with nothing but the baggage brought from home. Of course, that baggage being both literal and figurative — and Kerri was no different in that manner as well. Kerri stood among her baggage of both kinds, quickly realizing the best thing about going away to college was that no one here knew anything about her. She cupped a hand to block the sun as she appreciated the multistory beige brick dorm hall. A welcome breeze tussled her violet sundress and her curly strawberry blonde hair swept across the back of her neck. Giddiness welled up inside her, causing her to shake a bit in her shoes. Just look at all of those windows! Those would be for many rooms and for new friends. Which one was going to be hers? The sweltering summer heat of southern Louisiana was something she appreciated less, but Kerri was used to the humidity, having lived in the bayou state for her entire life. However, that was living in ‘small town’ Louisiana, in one of the hundred tiny places that dotted the state. Nothing at all like this giant university campus that just about doubled the population of her hometown. Five large suitcases that sat around her like a Samsonite Stonehenge. Her life was now a math problem: How does a ninety pound girl carry two hundred pounds for about twenty yards? Make sure to show your work. No, seriously. How was she going to get them all inside? The taxi driver had been kind enough to help her load his trunk from the bus stop. However, after getting his tip, he found better things to do than assist her into building. That yellow cab was gone in a flash, the hot breath of its exhaust still tickled her bare legs. Which was okay. Kerri was a big girl, and she'd do it herself. That’s what she told her parents who wanted to join her on move-in day. This was all about making a first impression, and having a fresh start. You can never remake a first impression, or any impression for that matter. Kerri had found that out the hard way back home. At the same time, there were things she couldn't change, no matter how many first impressions she made perfectly today. And Kerri had to respect that, too. The most noticeable aspect of herself that she couldn't change was how short she was. In internet terms, Kerri was smol. Not in little person territory, though. Kerri had fact checked that on the internet, and she was quite relieved to find that she wouldn’t be relegated to a life in the circus as a sideshow attraction. She was more akin to an olympic gymnast on the height-o-meter, just without the athletic prowess to flip her way into a scholarship. Which was why she had to come with some kind of elaborate strategy to get all five suitcases from the sidewalk into the dorm hall. A pair of birds chirped in a nearby tree whose green leaves swayed in the gentle wind. It captured her attention. Maybe it was move-in day for those little birdies, too. Were they as nervous as she was? She hoped not. Her mind was wandering again. Not wondering, wandering — as in getting lost in her thoughts. She had a tendency to do that at the worst times. Kerri had been called ‘spacey’ or ‘clueless’ before, but that wasn’t the entire truth. Her parents said that her aloofness was what made her creative, but the school pathologists labeled it something else. Something with an acronym and a special folder. Kerri looked around for someone to help her, but everyone else seemed too busy to notice the smol girl from a small town trying to get through a small problem in one piece. No, she thought to herself, I can do this myself. I will do this myself. A few minutes later, she was at the front door. A total of fifty paces from the sidewalk where she was unceremoniously left to fend for herself. College had already been an adventure, and she hadn't even broken the plane of a single classroom. Kerri propped open the door with one of the heavier suitcases as she wrangled the rest into a much cooler lobby. It smelled like school and summer inside, an overworked A/C unit was the true MVP of the day. The sweat from the exertion and humidity made her violet sundress stick to her body in unflattering ways. She hoped there wasn't any embarrassing discoloration anywhere; especially being so concerned about first impressions, but there was little she could do about it now. She paused in the doorway to appreciate the inside just like the outside. So this was what college looked like. Random posters intermixed with a long line of mailboxes that required keys, there were polished squeaky floors and heavy wooden doors. And it was devoid of any students. An older blonde woman in round glasses sat behind a counter, she wore a t-shirt with some kind of welcoming statement, but her unwelcoming frown is what caught Kerri’s attention. She eyed Kerri as the smaller girl struggled to get the bags into the room, taking multiple trips without a complaint. It felt good to finally get inside, and to do it all herself, that was the something ‘extra’ that brought a smile to her face. Time to share that smile with Miss Grumps-a-lot at the main desk. Kerri shot her a grin. The woman barked, "Are you going to let all the cool air out?" "Um, what?" Kerri stuttered, taken aback by the tenacity of that southern hospitality. "The cooled air that costs us money, sweetie. You're letting it out that door that you have propped open. We're already on a tight enough budget, and you don't want us to turn off the air for the rest of the semester." "Oh, I'm sorry," Kerri said as she struggled to pull everything into the lobby. "I didn't mean to cause a problem, especially on my first day." She let out a nervous giggle. Miss Grumps gave her an icy stare as she stacked a pair of papers and grabbed a pen. Then she asked without looking up, "Last name and first name, please." "Summers, Kerri. I'm so excited about moving in." The woman quipped, "That's so nice, honey." Kerri took the lack of friendly interaction as a cue to shut up. She bit at her lip as she rocked back and forth in her sneakers. That mind of hers was about to go a-wandering. The not-so nice lady turned a stack of papers her way before handing her a ballpoint pen. "Sign here and here. Your room is 201, you have two other roommates. They’ve already arrived. The bathrooms are in the middle of the hall, and the laundry room is in the basement level. This is your key, you lose it, you pay the $10 for a new one. My name is Lauren Spikes, and I'm the resident advisor for this girl’s dorm. You'll find the rules on the bulletin board, so it would do you good to get to know them. I'm not afraid to give demerits, young lady. Trust me." Kerri nodded along with the words, trying to keep up with the rapid pace in which they came out. By the end, she was bugging out. Was her last name really Spikes? That’s an awesome bad guy name, at least half a level above henchman. It would’ve been even better for a Dr. Spikes or Professor Spikes. A name like that could strike fear in the heart of every do-gooder. “You okay there, sweetie?” Oh, great. Kerri was doing it again. She lassoed her brain back into reality. Kerri cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you, but demerits?” It sounded kinda childish for her, this was college not some high school drill team. “Why, yes! Of course.” Miss Spikes sounded excited, and a smile peeked out like the sun through parted clouds. “I’m a bit old fashioned, but I find the most effective way to keep discipline is maintain good order.” “I get it,” offered Kerri. “We all want this dorm to be… uh, safe and well-behaved.” The RA studied her for a moment. “Are you sucking up to me, Miss Summers?” Kerri immediately felt put on the spot, she tried to think of what to say next as Spiky Spikes just glared at her. “No, no. That’s not it. I just think it’s good that you keep this place safe. That’s all, Miss Spikes.” “You can sometimes call me Lauren,” she corrected with a false grin. “I may be old fashioned, but I’d be upset if you thought I was old.” It was hard not to think of her as old, she was like thirty or something like that. Maybe it was just the way she presented herself. The thick rimmed glasses and mature hairstyle made her look motherly, and her tired eyes didn’t help matters, neither did that permanent scowl. Kerri thought Lauren looked middle aged, and acted older than that, but she could pretend for her sake. “You can call me Kerri,” she said as she extended a welcoming hand to shake. “Actually, I can call you whatever I want,” snapped Lauren as she refused the friendly greeting. “I’d prefer not to fraternize with those under my watch, it has a tendency to create confusion, and we don’t want any miscommunication. That’s why the rules are posted on the board, and that’s where you’re going to go read them.” Kerri retreated with a “Got it.” She tried to remain in a chipper mood, but this Lauren lady was quite the buzzkill. The back and forth between strict and friendly was enough to give her whiplash. Spikes reminded her of a teacher that would wear a smile as she handed out an unfair detention. Kerri beelined straight to the bulletin board. The rules were pretty standard stuff. No boys, no drugs, no guns, no alcohol, no fun, etc. Kerri pretended to read it as her mind wandered into more interesting pastures. When she pretended for long enough, Kerri took all of her baggage into the elevator without the help of Miss Lauren Spikes, who pretended to have better things to do than help little Kerri. The door to room 201 was already open when she got there. From her hidden spot in the hallway, Kerri peered into the her new home. This was it. Her big moment. It all started today. A fresh start. The other two girls were busy inside. Her new roomies! What an exciting time to be alive. They chatted together as they unpacked clothes from their bags and into the built-in drawers against a long wall. That was a good way to describe the room: long. A long and narrow rectangle with raised beds placed along the walls to form an L shape that encircled the rest of the room. Inside the L was a little living room with a weathered brown sofa, an equally well-experienced coffee table, facing a nice television. An off color wall-mounted sink was placed in the middle of a long wall, above it hung a small vanity mirror, and someone had already laid out a small mat on the bland tile floor. Kerri looked about the room in childish wonder, she then studied her new roommates, aka her new best friends. Roommate one was a lanky blonde with a tight ponytail and in even tighter running shorts. She wore a purple t-shirt with the school’s initials across the front, it looked fresh and new, and it was probably its first day as well. Number two was a mocha skinned girl with long black hair that shimmered in the soft light. She was fuller than the other girl, not on the extreme side, and she carried it well. She wore a grey hoodie sweatshirt even in the summer, and there was something about how she smiled that made Kerri feel safe. It gave her a tingling sensation. How could a smile be tingling? She didn’t know. Kerri was weird that way. It looked like the other two had already laid claim to the beds on the far end of the rectangle, the short side of the L with the windows. The last remaining bed was empty and awfully alone on the other side of the sink and vanity. But at least it was in the same room; unlike Kerri, who continued to hide in the hallway long past what would be considered to be polite. "Chica, I don't run unless I'm being chased," said the tan girl with a laugh. “I love running,” the lanky girl replied, “I get to eat what I want without gaining weight.” The stockier of the two hesitated a moment. “I’m Puerto Rican, Candice. I’ll be thick no matter what I eat. The big butts are an ancient tradition of my people. Are you implying that I have to look like you to be pretty?” It got serious all of a sudden, as the girl called Candice stopped what she was doing, unsure if she should apologize or not. Then they both broke into a fit of laughter, and Kerri felt relieved from her spying spot. Candice shook her head to brush off the joke. “You’re hilarious, Ana. You had me for a second there.” “I did,” Ana agreed. “You should have seen the look on your face.” Then she stopped and turned towards Kerri at the door. “You can come in, you know. We’re not going to bite you or anything.” Kerri froze. She had just been caught ‘spying’ on her roommates. Great first impression. “At least not me, Candice might be hungry from running or something. Have you had lunch, Candice? Wait a sec. Do skinny girls even eat lunch?” Meeting new people was high on the list of things that made Kerri ‘bug out’. She practiced and practiced, and sometimes the practice paid off — but other times she let the moment get too big. This moment was too big for this smol girl. Kerri found the means to shuffle forward until she was fully revealed. All of that practice for perfect body language with perfect jokes turned into slumped shoulders and sealed lips. What a waste of a bus trip. The other two girls were onto her before she could get a word out. Candice was the first to talk. “Hey, my name is Candice, and I’m from Texas. Yeehaw, right? But I’m from Dallas, so no cows or horses for me. I like what you’ve done with your hair. And your dress is cute, too. Where did you get it? This is going to be so great, all three of us are going to party. What do you like to do for fun? Oh, yeah. What’s your name?” It was all a blur to Kerri. Words that came out fast forward while she moved slow motion. This happened from time to time, when things got ‘too much’. “Are you okay?” Ana joined Candice next to Kerri. “Earth to chica — are you in there? I didn’t mean to scare you when I told you to come in, it was just… you know, creepy. I’m not so sure if that’s the right word. Seriously, though. Hablas ingles? Because that’s all I speak, besides the bad words of course, they’re more fun in Spanish.” It took all the strength she had to open her mouth. “I’m Kerri.” Ana smiled. “Well, hi there Kerri.” Candice placed a soft hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder. It was as a very welcome gesture after the run in with Lauren Spikes, RA extraordinaire. “You look tired and sweaty. Let’s have you sit down, and I can get you a glass of water. It’s tap, but whatevs. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” About a minute later, Kerri sat on the old brown couch sipping the water. She had totally blown it. Absolute nightmare material, and she had practiced what she would say and everything. But it wasn’t too late, she could still prove to them that she was a fully functioning young adult. She could do this. Just get up and bring in your bags. Then say something funny. Try to break the ice. Kerri looked towards the door to find Candice easily carrying in her bags. Ana remained at Kerri’s side, trying to figure the quiet girl out with a kind expression on her face. Ana asked, “You good, chica?” “Yeah,” Kerri muttered. “I’m okay.” “It’s the heat, right?” Candice added from the doorway. “It knocks the fire out of the best of us. That’s why I run so early in the morning, and why it is equally important to stay hydrated.” Ana sounded impressed. “Are you a doctor or something?” “No. I’m a sports medicine major, but I take nutrition seriously.” Ana gained a predatory look all of a sudden, with the happy face of a kid that just saw a long line of cupcakes. “Does that mean you get to give massages to all the hurt male athletes?” Candice chuckled. “Yes… and I’ll let you know when I need an assistant.” “Perfect. I specialize in working on inner thighs, tight butts, muscle-y chests, and big arms. They also need to be cute and rich, and have good personalities, too. You’re not writing this down, chica. This is super important.” “You’re going to end up on a list some day, Ana.” “You’re right.” Ana turned to Kerri to get a second opinion. “And it’s going to be totally worth it.” Kerri smiled. The positive attitude in the room was infectious. It felt good to sit and be a silent part of it. “So… lucky Candice is a sports med major, I’m an early childhood development. What are you here to learn, Kerri?” “Um. I do art. I like to draw,” she answered timely and with a smile. She could do this. “Art, huh.” Ana was up to no good again. “When is male nude model day?” Kerri blushed. Honestly, she had never even thought about that. She hoped that day was far, far away. She imagined herself drawing an opaque black bar over … parts. As for Ana, the girl was so direct and out there, while Kerri just hoped that she could put five words together without making a fool of herself. Candice joined Kerri and Ana on the tired couch, forcing the cushions to shift over to support her weight. For a moment, all three of them shared a sofa like in a sitcom. “I can’t believe that you’re into early childhood stuff,” Candice said. “That’s why you have that job.” “What job?” asked Kerri. She was getting used to talking, maybe shyness could be blamed on the heat and not the nerves. “I’m a nanny for a pair of four year old twin boys. Lucky me, right?” Ana rolled her eyes as if to say she wasn’t actually lucky. “And guess what the worst part is that they’re not even potty trained. No seriously, full on diapers. Not even pull-ups.” “That ain’t right,” added Candice. “No, it isn't,” Ana answered. “The parents were ‘very’ interested in me learning about potty training. So that’s what I’m going to be all about for the next few weeks. Yay, huh?” Candice waved her hands around. “Totally yay.” Ana took a moment to re-evaluate her patient. “You look much better now, Kerri. Got a lot more color in the face. Not as much as me, but good enough.” With that, Ana gave a sweet tap to her arm and left Kerri on the couch. Candice did the same, and Kerri was once again alone with her wandering thoughts. So all of this actually happened. If this was a video game she would have already hit the reset button and retried the level. There was no doing that, no remaking a first impression. Kerri had managed to dig herself into a hole, and she was unsure of the best way to crawl out. But she would do it. Her bags were by the remaining bed, and she figured unpacking them would be the best way to start fixing her day. However, a nasty creepy-crawly thought wiggled its way into her wandering mind: things weren’t ever going to change. And it was all her fault. Kerri Summers was an imposter. A bad one at that. No matter how hard she pretended to be ‘with-it’, she would continue to be a hapless little girl who needed help from everyone. The ‘kid glove’ treatment would continue because that’s what her actions prescribed. Who knows? Maybe she was overthinking everything. Maybe that’s why she was so overwhelmed with the simplicity of the moment. Maybe it was too late to change the way things worked. She couldn’t shake the thought that things were going to be the same here as it was back home. A re-run on a different set, with different actors to play as her friends, and no one re-cast as her parents. And Kerri would be stuck in the same role forever. The one being babied. Maybe it had already begun. Kerri internally debated that fact as her mind freely wandered while she unpacked her bags. Her clothes were organized into her drawers, her laptop placed on her desk, and her bed was perfectly made. But she didn’t ‘fully’ unpack. Her stuffies were still in her bag, which made her wonder why she even brought them from home in the first place. Kerri would keep those in there until the other girls were more convinced of her adulthood, her real-sized, grown up human independence. Unless that never happened. Then maybe her stuffed animal buddies would just live in her bag. In the dark. With no friends. Okay, she would wait until her roomies were fast asleep to bust them out. She mindlessly grabbed a stack of adult coloring books and… “Are those coloring books?” Kerri stopped. When did Candice get to her corner of the room? “They’re adult coloring books,” snapped Kerri as she defensively brought them to her body. “I use them to help relax. That’s all!” The taller girl backed off. “Whoa! Simmer down there, Kerri. I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I think it’s kinda cool that you do your own thing. I came to your side of the room to see if you need any help, but now I see you got it all covered. I’m just trying to be friendly, that’s all. Are you okay? You have this weird look on your face. Totally catatonic…” Kerri popped back into reality. “I’m… I’m fine.” Candice asked, “Do you want any help, or not?” “Yeah. If you want to help.” “Cool,” Candice said, “Ana and I are going out tonight, do you want to come with us?” Kerri said, “I’d like that. A lot.” For some reason, the simple invitation to dinner seemed to turn her mood around. Dinner would be good, a place to ‘flip the script’, like a U-turn of possibilities. Little things like that were baby steps forward towards what she wanted. No, not baby steps. Little steps. No, normal steps forward towards normal interactions for normal, neurotypical lifestyles. Nothing like what she was before she got here. “Aww! This is sweet!” Candice squealed from behind her back. “A Pony Princess, my little sister loves that show.” Kerri turned to see the bag with the smuggled stuffies ripped wide open, revealing the childish contraband, and in her roommate's arms was her favorite unicorn, Princess Clarabelle. “Put that away!” Kerri pulled it free from the taller girl. Who was too taken aback by the intense physical reaction to put up a fight. Candice shouted, “What’s your deal, Kerri?” Kerri suddenly felt so smol. How do you explain this kind of stupid indignation in words? Princess Clarabelle stared back with its marble eyes demanding a reason as well. Kerri didn’t have a good one. She was totally blowing it again. And again. And again. Kerri started to explain, “I just…” “You’re acting like a little kid,” Candice interrupted. “First the coloring books, then the stuffed animals.” She looked towards Ana who was trying to figure out the sudden hubbub from her side of the room. “They’re cute though,” Ana tried to mend the gap. Candice wasn’t as convinced. “Yeah, but… really?” Ana said, “They’re not doing us any harm, right?” Kerri found herself agreeing with Ana, tightening her fingers around Clarabelle in a death grip. She was breathing far too fast. Kerri needed to control her breathing, she was gasping for air. She muttered, “The coloring book is for adults…” “Yeah,” Candice laughed, “and I’m sure the crayons are adult crayons, too.” “Don’t sweat it, Kerri,” Ana advised as she got up to join them. “It’s cool that you have things you brought from home. Candice is just trying to overcompensate for a personality built on exercise. Besides, she’s not cultured. She’s from Texas.” “Har-har. And yee-haw.” Candice grinned as she backed off. “Here you go.” Ana held a pair of Princess Ponies to add to the shimmering mane of Clara. “Kerri, let me help you.” Kerri looked back at roommate one and two, the kind expressions they wore like fake masks, but the twinkle in their eyes gave away their true intentions. Nothing was ever going to change. Especially not here.

Hi folks! I have posted my stuff on other sites, notably Reddit and Wattpad. Someone recently encouraged me to post here, and I thought I would give this community a try. I have a fair backlog of stories, but I won't be posting them all at once on here. That seems spammy and rude. Plus, I think it's fun to have regular content to look forward to. For the medium-term, I'll be posting one chapter of a story a week on here, starting with my short novel "Baby Briana". It has twenty six chapters, so we'll be a while on that one. I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to comment, ask questions, and otherwise talk to me in this thread. I don't know how often I will be checking my inbox here, as I already have a lot of inboxes, so my story threads are probably the best place to talk to me. Content Warnings: NSFW content including sex scenes. Spanking and discipline. Consent is not explicitly spelled out; a person acting as a child is considered to be giving implicit consent to be treated as one. Without further ado: Chapter 1 of Baby Briana. Brianna lifted her head and let out a yawn that stretched her jaw. Discomfort made her squirm in the bed. She slid a hand under the covers and immediately teared up. The bed was wet again. She froze in bed, listening and hoping that the house would be silent. No luck. By the sounds of it at least two of her roommates were already awake. The sun blazed through her white daisy curtains; a sign that it was likely they were all awake. For a few minutes she burrowed back into the covers despite the dampness. She wished she could vanish into the bed and disappear. Or better yet, that the stain would. “I don’t know why this is happening!” Briana despaired. “I haven’t wet the bed since I was six. It’s been ten times this month, and it’s happening more and more often.” With a groan she crawled out of bed and stripped off her soaked panties and nightshirt. She was able to scamper to the bathroom to shower without running into anyone. Scraggly red hair greeted her in the mirror. She sighed and tied it up. Haircuts were another thing that weren’t happening. At least the rest of her looked good. A smattering of freckles across a slim body. “Nothing like being poor to keep you trim.” Back in her room she dressed in dry clothes and faced her bed grimly. The comforter was too bulky to launder easily and seemed to be barely damp. She stripped the sheets and wrapped them in her wet bath towel. With the window open and a bit of febreeze on the mattress, she hoped no one would notice. Her feet creaked on the old wooden floors. Normally she loved an old house with tons of character. Now it was a traitor reporting her every move. Since quiet wasn’t an option, she made her way down the stairs quickly to the living room. Her roommate Suzie was there, curled up on the green antique couch. Brianna froze for a moment, but the blonde girl didn’t look up from her phone. Brianna rounded the wall that supported the stairs and opened the basement door. Another flight of creaky stairs and she was on nice quiet concrete. Even better, the washing machine was free. A huge wave of relief washed across Brianna when she set the washer running. Briana checked her bank balance for the hundredth time while she leaned on the kitchen counter. Only a couple hundred dollars left. Her roommates had been generous enough to let her skip the rent. They even let her eat from the groceries they bought. It was a lifesaver, but a guilt-inducing one. The college’s work study wasn’t taking any new student workers mid semester either. “There’s nothing online for jobs.” Briana sighed. “I’m sending out three applications a day but nobody replies.” “Hey, Bri?” Suzie startled Briana out of her thoughts. “Can you come to the living room? We wanted to talk to you about something.” “This is it. They’re kicking me out.” Briana’s mouth went dry, her stomach knotted. She managed a nod but couldn’t speak. Her fears redoubled when she saw her other four roommates sitting in the living room. Suzie led her to the armchair and took a seat on the right-hand couch next to Jane. As a film school student she was the most quirky of the group, short blue hair and a lot of tattoos. When she’d first moved in everyone called her Manic Pixie Dream Girl until it got to be too much. Anything but plain Jane was still in pajamas, her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had striking German features with a resting bitch face that was legendary in the Economics department. Erin and Casey were on the left-hand couch, still dressed for their morning run. The only sporty members of the house, Erin was freckled and burnt, while Casey tended to evenly tan. They always seemed to sit together; Erin was the only one in the house who wouldn’t be dwarfed by Casey’s six and a half feet. Across the coffee table in the other armchair was Veronica, dressed in her usual black house dress. She had a quiet, commanding presence most of the time. At a meeting like this she had the look of royalty. Not condescending, just the assumption that she was in control. She didn’t even need to flex her wealth or Postdoc status to have authority in the house, but they certainly helped. Brianna sat at Veronica’s direction, eyes already brimming with tears. “I think you probably know why we wanted to talk.” Veronica said. “I’m sorry!” Briana burst into tears. “I can have my stuff packed up in a couple of days.” “What? Huh? No!” Several of the girls responded in unison. “Briana, no.” Veronica said with a concerned frown. “Nobody is kicking you out. I’m sorry you thought that’s what this was!” “What then?” Brianna sniffled. “You have been… having to do a lot of laundry lately.” Veronica said. Briana flushed. “That was really kindly worded. Carefully worded. I wonder if she learned that in the counseling program.” “We’re worried about you, and we want to help.” Veronica continued when Briana didn’t seem like she was going to reply. “Help how?” Briana sighed. “I don’t have insurance, or money for a doctor. I can’t ask you to cover me on that too!” “That’s not what we were offering.” Veronica said kindly. “We did get you a couple of things that might help though.” Erin hopped up and grabbed a package from behind the couch. A package of incontinence undergarments. Brianna’s heart sank and her face flamed again. “I uh, I don’t know why it’s happening but I’m not sure that I really need…” She stammered. “I know it’s rough even thinking about wearing those!” Erin said. “So I got you some different ones too.” She placed a second package on the coffee table. This one had bright colors, proudly proclaiming the efficacy of its pullups. “Uh, I’m pretty slim but I don’t think I can fit into pullups.” Brianna said, confused. “They’re adult sized!” Casey chimed in. “I know they look kind of kid-y.” Erin said. “But they’re way prettier than the Depends.” “I don’t think…” Brianna began. “Please think about it.” Veronica said. “Use them until you figure out what’s going on.” “Veronica’s the one covering my rent…” Briana hesitated, “Those things probably weren’t cheap either. This is actually really nice of them, even if it’s embarrassing.” “Um, okay. I’ll try them for at least a couple of days.” Briana said. She blushed and sank back in the chair as the other girls applauded. “We want you to be okay.” Jane said. “We’re here to help you, okay?” Suzie smiled at Briana. “It takes a lot of courage to accept help, especially about something like this.” Veronica said. Briana wiped away tears. Her roommates rose up en masse and helped her out of the chair. Surrounded in warm group hug, Brianna sobbed a couple of times and took a deep rattling breath. “Thanks everybody.” The hug closed tightly around her again. “You’ve all been really nice.” “We’re friends!” Suzie declared. “Just because we’re not a sorority doesn’t mean that I don’t think of you all as my sisters.” Veronica said. “We’ve had this house together for three years.” Brianna nodded, wiping her eyes. Jane helped her carry the supplies up to her room, giving her another hug before she left. Briana put the packages in the far back of her closet and realized there was a third one as well. A plastic mattress cover, that had been sitting under the depends. “I can’t afford to replace my mattress.” Briana thought grimly. She slipped the cover on her mattress and made the bed with new sheets. You couldn’t tell by looking at it, and when she crawled under the covers, the feel wasn’t too bad. “I sure have good friends. I wish I knew why this was happening!”

Authors note This just a story that came to me this morning. It takes place in PrincessPottyPants's Diaper Dimension setting. All characters are in their 20's or older. It's probably just going to be a short story, I don't have any plans for it and I can't promise that I'll be inspired to write more. But I hope you enjoy it and I appreciate any critiques and responses. Fair warning, my writing is pretty rusty so there's bound to be some mistakes (especially if I don't go over it before posting). Also I have anxiety so I'll do my best to respond, just know I tend to be awkward ?. Prelude Marietta shut her eyes and wished she could cover her ears. The sharp laughter was deafening and pierced her deeply. How had she gotten here you ask? She had thought she was safe. Not only had she thought she was safe but she believed it and acted accordingly. One of the biggest mistakes a Little could make, and she had done it so confidently. Her mind kept replaying the events of the day in little bursts she couldn't control. Not being in control is something she will have to get used to, because she will never know it's freedom again. Chapter 1: Winter's Lament The morning had started off better then it had for a while. Spring was finally starting to show itself. Winter was still clutching on to the weather, not quite ready to go into hibernation. But, Winter's time was coming to an end regardless of it's desperate attempts to live on. This duel of the seasons left the mornings chilly and the afternoons warm, the perfect amounts of cold and hot. Marietta had come to hate Winter and it's bitter cold that left her miserable and desperate for warmth. So, while she didn't care for the rainy and allergy ridden Spring, she was ready to embrace it like a long lost friend. Marietta yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as the shrill sound of her alarm clock dutifully made sure she was awake. "Hey Hewie, stop alarm." She told her AI Assistant as she got out of bed and stretched. "Okay, stopping the alarm." The little pink cube on her desk responded. Looking out her open window she felt an inner peace, today would be a good day she decided. Or at least far better then yesterday had been. The warmer weather seemed to chase away her negative thoughts and depressed mood. She knew it was only temporary, but it was still refreshing to have them at bay for now. "Hey Hewie, what's the weather today?" She asked while brushing her long curly black hair. "Right now the weather in Poptonia is 56 degrees, but it feels like 53 due to wind chill. The low for the day is 56 while the high is 73. There's a low chance of rain today." The promise of good weather brought a smile to the little woman's face. Today would be a good day to revitalize her garden. While it had snowed very sparsely this Winter, she had neglected to take any steps to protect her garden during the cold months. This meant she would have to put in extra effort to get it up and ready as quick as possible. Gardening was much more than a hobby for the little greenhorn, it was her lifeblood. Grocery stores are notorious for being a dangerous place for littles, especially if they go alone. Her garden helped her get all the fresh vegetables, fruit, and herbs that she would need for the year. Everything else she ordered online, but fresh food was something you couldn't trust to an online delivery service. If an Amazon or Tweener delivery driver found out they were delivering to a Little, they could tamper with the food and the Little would be none the wiser. That is, until they ended up having a massive 'accident' from the laxative that was injected into the food. Of course it would only be a few moments before the delivery driver, or someone sent on their behest, came to 'help' the poor Little. Helping them out of their soiled underwear and right into a nice thick diaper. Marietta shook her head to stop herself from ruminating on the unfairness and dangers of the life she lived. She was determined to use the nice weather as a springboard for positive thinking and a happier mood. Spring was for the right and now, it was for admiring the roses and enjoying life. Winter was for the past, nursing old pricks, and surviving. To cement her determination to a brighter day, she decided to wear some brighter colors then usual. The jeans she slid up over her bright pink panties were a nice deep blue. They would've looked better if they hugged her curves and showed off her long legs, but she couldn't take that risk. With them being baggy no one could tell what she was wearing underneath. She knew it was safer, and smarter, to wear a Pull-Up, but she couldn't bring herself to do it today. That would certainly tank her mood, and it would be a constant reminder of her place in this cruel world. Which, she was certain, was the whole point of the Amazons wanting her to wear them. To an Amazon a 'mature' Little didn't need diapers, and while their undergarments weren't policed like those of 'immature' Littles, a Pull-Up was a true sign of a Little's 'maturity'. Without one she was making herself vulnerable to Pull-Up Preachers and accusations surrendering her maturity. If the price of being happy for the day is a few minutes of being uncomfortable, that's a price she's willing to pay. In theory the baggy jeans are supposed to protect her from such experiences, but in practice Amazons were free to 'check' her if they wanted to. Even though there weren't any laws, or rules at her college, that demanded she wear protection, her Amazon teachers were still allowed to feel her up and openly embarrass her. After all, it would be their classroom she would 'ruin' or interrupt if she had an 'accident' due to not being properly 'protected'. And of course, 'Amazons Know Best', meaning they're always right and can get away with practically anything. After spending a few minutes perusing her closet, Marietta finally finds a suitable top. She slides the deep red blouse over her lacey pink bra. The short sleeved blouse was loose enough that it doesn't show off her breasts, and 'mature' enough that you can tell she's an adult. If she wore something that hugged her curves or showed off her breasts it would only be used against her by an Amazon hoping to adopt her. They would say she was trying so hard to look like an adult that she didn't care how 'risque' she looked. The cherry on top would be a comment along the lines of how she doesn't have very much to display anyway. She finishes off her look with a dark green cardigan, black sneakers, silver stud earrings, and a simple silver sun necklace. If she wears colors that are too bright it will invite an Amazon to imagine her in colorful baby clothes. If she wears too much jewelry, or if it's too loud in color or design, it would bring comments of how she's trying to hard or how cute she is. The life of a Little is one of meticulous planning and preparing. Grabbing her bookbag and a premade breakfast shake, Marietta steps out of the safety of her home, prepared for the beauty and potential dangers of the day. A hard slap on her bottom drags her back to the present, where she should be. After all, Winter is for the past, and despite all the mourning, Spring is here and it's time for the here and now. An involuntary whimper escapes from the little woman, drawing more of the deafening laughter. Opening her eyes Marietta's attention is greeted by hungry eyes and toothy grins. Awaiting her are dozens of grasping and wandering hands as their owners are desperate to take part in her torment. "Stop squirming!" The booming voice shouted at her. She couldn't think of who the voice belongs to, but she was sure it sounded familiar. In fact, she can't think of anything. Time feels excruciatingly slow and everything has a blur to it, not a single thought bubbles to the surface of her mind. A numbness seeps through her entire body, and her head feels weightless. Staring into the distance, Marietta is once again swept up into her memories, and away from the nightmare that is the here and now. *authors note* Okay so I'll definitely write another chapter because I have more ideas for this. Also while I do love a good cliffhanger, I hate unresolved ones and unanswered questions. But i have no idea when I'll write/post more, so I'll see you when I see you! ❤️ I don't have any experience posting in online forms/rooms like this so any advice relating to format and suggested tags would be appreciated as well!

Tea was walking around Times Square in New York City. She had just finished her dance training and was ready to head back home and see her friends again before looking for a job. She smiled at a deck box attached to her belt. She doubted her skills were at Joey or Yugi's level, but she was excited to show the two what she had picked up over the past two years. She had decided to cut through an alleyway when she saw someone come up. Tea moved to run until the figure pulled out a rag and held it to Tea's face. She could smell the chloroform as she began to feel weak. "Oh," Tea said weakly. "Not again." Tea then lost consciousness. When Tea came to, she was sitting on some kind of conveyor belt. She tried to leave, but a thin but powerful cord pulled her back onto it. "Welcome to the last day of your old life." A woman said. Tea looked and saw the figure who kidnapped her. She was also attached to another conveyor belt, and Tea saw a life point counter in front of her that read 4000. "What's this about?!" Tea asked. "Who are you?!" "I'm a relic hunter." The woman said. "However, work's been rather slow since Marik started working with his sister, so I've begun moonlighting as a human-trafficer for childless couples." "What's that got to do with me?!" Tea asked angrily. "Easy." The hunter said. "Kidnapping children is despicable. Kidnapping adults who can fight back, though, there's a challenge." "So we're going to Duel?" Tea asked. "Exactly." The hunter said. "As our life points drop, the belt will carry us down, making us more and more like babies. Once one of our life points hit 0, that person will be sent off to my clients via a fully automated system. Got it?" "Got it." Tea said, nervous but determined. "Let's Duel!" The two drew their cards from a stand directly opposite from them as Tea looked at her hand. It was a Dark Magician, a Dian the Cure Master, and a few other Magic Cards, all useless for the moment. Everything counted on the first card she drew. She drew the card and found Lemmon Magician Girl, and after a brief moment, a plan formed in her head. "I summon Lemmon Magician Girl!" Tea called out as she put the card on the reader connected to her stand, and a dark-skinned girl of about eight appeared with blonde hair and dressed in yellow armor. (Atk: 800/Def: 600) "Next, I'll play Dian the Cure Master to raise my life points by 1000." Tea called out. (Tea's life points: 5000) "And I'll end my turn." Tea finished with a smile not unlike the Pharaoh's. "Hmph." The hunter grumbled. "If you're not even going to try, this will be over quickly." She drew and smirked. "I play Cost Down to allow me to immediately summon monsters with five or six stars." Her smile widened. "Next I summon the Goddess of Maternity!" The hunter called out as a white haired woman appeared. (Atk: 2000/Def: 1900) "Next, I'll set a card face down." The hunter explained. "Now attack the Lemmon Magician Girl!" The hunter called out as the Goddess pointed at the Magician Girl. "Not so fast!" Tea called out. "When my Lemmon Magician Girl is attacked, I can summon a spellcaster from my hand, and I choose the Dark Magician!" The violent robes and purple armor of the Dark Magician appeared as he glared at the Goddess with his blue eyes. (Atk: 2500/Def: 2100) "Once that's done, your Goddess' attack is redirected at him, and her strength is cut in half." Tea finished. (Atk: 1000) The Dark Magician repelled the attack at the Goddess, and she was destroyed. (Hunter's life points: 2500) "Oh no!" The hunter called out as the belt rumbled to life. She was moved into a box as Tea saw all of the hunter's clothes tossed out as she came out completely naked. At another station, a hand came out of a green cube next to the hunter's conveyor belt and held her down as another hand spanked her, and she called out. She was then moved to another station where she got a soapy brush shoved into her mouth before the rest of her was washed, and her skin glowed like a newborns. She was then moved to another station where her stomach and crotch were powdered, and a spatula flipped the hunter onto her back as her butt was then powdered. "You wiww pay fow dis!" The hunter called out, and Tea gulped at how effective and efficient the belt was. She had to win... or else she'll never see her friends again! To be continued...

Ryoko was fuming as she walked to Washu's lab. Nine months of carrying Tenchi's baby girl, Rika, and Washu had the nerve to send her and Tenchi to Jurai, allegedly to meet Funaho, and ask her to come have a "class" on child reering. To make matters worse, Ryoko was doing this with Ayeka, who had also had a baby with Tenchi, Achika, but at least Misaki will have a ball playing with the babies. She saw Ayeka and groaned. "Look," Ryoko said as Ayeka glared at her. "We just have to stomach whatever Washu's planned for us and go back to normal once Tenchi comes back with the kids." "All right." Ayeka sighed. "For Tenchi and the girls." "For Tenchi and the girls." Ryoko agreed. Ryoko opened the door, and they headed into Washu's lab. As they entered the garden, they saw Washu at her computer as usual before she stood up, smiling. "Now then ladies," Washu said enthusiastically. "What we're going to do is teach you two about raising children by example." "So what?" Ryoko asked. "You're gonna have us care for dolls?" "No." Washu said with a familiar smirk. "I'm going to show you what being a helpless little infant is like." "Well," Ayeka said smugly. "Ryoko surely needs such extreme measures, but I don't!" "Ha!" Washu shouted. "Yeah, right." Washu pushed a button on her computer, and the two were grabbed by various mechanical arms. The arms brought the two to Washu's proper lab and hovered over a dark cube. "This will teach you how easy it is for a baby to be shaken up." Washu explained. Ryoko was then dropped into the cube as it lit up for Ayeka to see a gaggle of mechanical arms. Ryoko groaned as she felt herself moving backwards before she looked behind her to see a buzzsaw. She ran for dear life but didn't get any further as she realized that she was on a conveyor belt. She saw Washu on a screen and smirked and pulled a lever as a boxing glove hit Ryoko in the gut and knocking her into the saw. Ryoko screamed and leapt up as Ayeka was dropped down. Ryoko slammed her head into a winch that shoved her into a high chair with a hole in the bottom that left her butt sticking out. The tray then snapped into place, trapping Ryoko in the chair. A pair of clippers then came up and shaved Ryoko bald. "You bitch!!" Ryoko shrieked, not caring that she could regrow her hair once she gets a minute. A rack of rolling pins then come up and hit Ryoko in the head to the tune of "Pioneer". The chair then pulled Ryoko over to a rack of boots that kick her in the butt to the same tune. Eventually, the tray released just as the last boot kicked Ryoko away. While all of this was happening to Ryoko, Ayeka was crawling on the belt to avoid a paddle wheel that had replaced the buzzsaw, thankfully. Again, Washu pulled the lever, but this time, two mechanical arms held Ayeka down as the paddles continually spanks her until Ryoko was kicked out of the high chair, and the arms tossed Ayeka upwards. After Ryoko was flung out of the chair, she landed head first into a hole as her neck was clamped in place while a pair of boxing gloves began punching her in the face and the back of her head. While Ryoko was being punched, Ayeka slammed into the winch which pushed her into the chair before Ayeka was clamped in place by the tray and shaved bald. "I beg your pardon!" Ayeka shouted. "Just what is the meaning of this, Washu?" "To have less cushioning." Washu explained. "For what?!" Ayeka asked. The rack of rolling pins then came down and hit Ayeka in the head until she began drooling from all the head trauma. Ayeka was then moved to the boots and kicked in the butt, making her start crying. "MAMA!!!" Ayeka shrieked. After Ryoko's second beating, the clamp was released, and a pair of arms came down and picked Ryoko up and lifted her to a barrel of yellow liquid. Ryoko was then stripped naked and dunked into the barrel several times before she was lifted out. She suddenly realized that she felt much weaker. She wiggled her legs and was relieved that she could still move, though she was still not liking losing her strength. Once Ryoko was lifted out of the hole, Ayeka was kicked into it. She was then clamped in place, and the boxing gloves began punching her in the face and the back of the head. After Ryoko was dipped in the liquid, the arms brought her to a table that had folded out, and she was placed on it with the arms holding her firmly in place. Another pair of arms came up and lifted her legs up before setting a cloth diaper down. She tried to struggle, but in her weakened state, the arms didn't budge. She then got her butt liberally sprinkled with baby powder, and the diaper was folded around her crotch before it was held in place with a safety pin. Ayeka, meanwhile, was crying worse than ever as she was picked up by the arms, stripped naked, and dunked into the barrel of yellow liquid, with her swallowing a good deal of it. The liquid rendered Ayeka barely able to move as she finally began calming down. Ryoko was finally brought to a crib and set into it as she got a blue baby bonnet with pink frills tied onto her head. Ayeka was being powered and diapered as this was going on, with Ryoko watching as she grew her hair back. However, it did nothing to loosen the bonnet. Ayeka was placed in a crib next to Ryoko and given a purple baby bonnet with blue frills as she grabbed the rails of her crib and pulled herself up to stand unsteadily next to her. The cribs began to rise out of the cube, and Ayeka shrieked, grabbing Ryoko's hair and making her call out, making Ayeka giggle before Ryoko slapped her diapered butt, making Ayeka whimper before they were brought to Washu's screen. "Well let's see what we've learned." Washu said as she snapped her fingers, and Ayeka's brain trauma was fixed. "Big deal." Ryoko groaned. "Babies are sensitive! We knew that." "And I didn't appweciate being hit on the head so much!" Ayeka shouted before gasping. "My voice!" "That'll be the numbing agent to make sure neither of you break anything." Washu explained. "As for the head hitting, think how bad it'd be if one of you lost your temper and hit one of the girls." The two groaned, knowing she was right. "Now," Washu said. "The rest of the lessons are hidden throughout this part of the lab." The arms deposited Ryoko and Ayeka on the floor. "Look around and have fun." Washu said with a smirk. "They aren't all torturous." To be continued...

During my first semester in college, I was enrolled in the usual intro classes - Philosophy, History, Anthropology… I had also signed up for a one-credit “freshman seminar,” more or less an intro to surviving your first year on campus and living on your own. An easy A, I thought, and maybe a chance to meet some freshmen girls. The seminar instructor was a young faculty member from the Theater department. She was very casual and warm with the class, encouraging us to use her first name, Anna. I was a bit smitten from the moment she walked in the class room. She had very kind eyes, an attractive build, and a firm but gentle air of authority. I knew I’d have no trouble with attendance for Anna’s class! In the first few weeks of class, I started wondering (wishfully?) if Anna was flirting with me. She called on me often to share, and always did so with a broad, beautiful smile. Of course, she was friendly and kind with all of the students, so I convinced myself it was my imagination. The semester wore on, and I found my way into the various party scenes on campus. By October, I had made some friends among a group of Theater majors. They invited me to the annual department Halloween party, which they promised would be wild. Makes sense, I thought, that the Theater kids would take Halloween pretty seriously. I knew I couldn’t miss it… Realizing I wouldn’t be able to compete costume-wise, I simply put on a striped tie, some kakhis and a sweater vest, ready to do my best “Frank the Tank” impression. My friends and I pregamed with some beers in the dorm, then headed out to the off campus apartment for the party. The party was raucous, the costumes raunchy, and the drinks stiff. I was still finding my tolerance, so got pretty lubricated pretty quickly. A Senior dressed impeccably as Princess Leia invited me to step on the back porch to smoke a joint. No chance I could say no to that… I reentered the party feeling a lot lighter. I nearly walked right past her. I was halfway through the kitchen when I realized, the leather clad Catwoman serving herself from the punch bowl was my seminar teacher, Anna. We locked eyes. “Oh hi there,” she said a bit awkwardly. “Oh um hi!” I stammered, shuffling past her. I was caught so off guard, a naive freshman feeling like I was busted, in trouble with my teacher, having broken the rules, broken the law even! Wait, though, I thought. she was having a drink! she was partying too! …or was that really even her?? Considering my state of mind, I couldn’t know what I actually saw or what to think of it. I figured best think would be to sleep it off. I made an Irish exit, and slinked off to my dorm and passed out. Sunday morning was a blur, I slept off my hangover most of the afternoon, spent the evening studying, and before I knew it, my alarm was blaring Monday morning. I shuffled through my routine and went off to class. It wasn’t until Anna walked in the room that it hit me. She was at the party! Right..? she was at the party..? I fidgeted in my seat nervously. “Good morning everyone! How was the weekend for you all?” Anna said. I slunk down in my chair, and fortunately she didn’t look my way. Some other students offered innocent sounding Halloween anecdotes. Anna smiled entertaining each story cheerfully. Eventually, she said, “I had a fun weekend too. “The Theater department had it’s annual Halloween party, which can get a little crazy.” My stomach dropped. She was there. She saw me… But she still didn’t make eye contact. In fact, it felt like she was intentionally avoiding my gaze. She looked around the room quizzically. “I feel like I saw one of you there… Ryan, weren’t you there?” she asked another student. My mouth was dry. I was in the clear, she didn’t know it was me. Ryan shrugged and shook his head. “Oh, well, I guess you can what my state of mind was,” Anna giggled. “Like I said, it can get a little wild…” The rest of class was a blur. I was in a daze, feeling like I’d gotten away with something. I was still a bit spaced out when I realized my classmates were picking up their things, class was over. I snapped out of it and scooped up my books and stuffed them in my bag. Shuffling toward the door I heard a firm voice call my name. “Matthew.” Anna beckoned me to the front of the room, looking a bit stern. I slowed my pace as the room emptied. As I approached, her face softened. Now alone, she crossed the room and closed the door. Smiling at me she said, “Matt, I wanted to say thanks.” “For what?” I stammered. “For not calling me out about the party. I know you were there and saw how drunk I was.” “Oh…” I said, “um, no problem, not a big deal.” I grinned. “Well, it’s kind of a big deal,” she told me. “I was behaving inappropriately, drinking that much around my students. It wasn’t right.” I wasn’t sure where this was headed, but she seemed to be feeling guilty so I tried to be affirming. “Don’t worry about it. Lots of people were drinking. You didn’t even really seem that drunk to me.” “That’s sweet of you to say, thank you,” Anna smiled. “But I should be setting a better example. I really should be punished.” My mouth went dry and my cock flinched. Was I dreaming? Anna didn’t give me much time to consider the notion. “I think because you were generous and didn’t call me out during class, it would be fair for you to punish me for my bad behavior. Would you like to give me a spanking?” Now I knew I was dreaming. This couldn’t be real. I’m sure she could see that thought on my face. She took me gently by the shoulder and looked me dead in the eye. “Don’t worry. I deserve it, and it should come from you.” Anna winked at me, turned and leaned over a desk in the front row. She stuck her round butt up in the air and tugged her skirt up above her hips. I stared at her panty-clad ass in disbelief. Turing back to look at me, Anna said invitingly, “Come on now. Give me what I deserve.” My cock was now rock hard straining against my jeans. I slowly moved over to her. Cupping my hand on her waiting ass cheek, I took stock. This was a thing of fantasy. Could I really be about to spank my teacher?? Drawing my hand back I brought it down with a slap. Anna barely reacted. I took the hint and reached back a little further. Smacking in the same spot, I elicited a tiny yelp. Anna raised her bottom a little higher anticipating the next smack. I couldn’t resist… I spanked in quick succession, harder each time. Anna moaned a bit and wriggled her hips. But she stayed firmly in position with her ass in the air, and took everything I had to give her. As I noticed her butt getting a little red, I slowed down and admired my work. My cocked throbbed and dripped into my underwear. Anna tugged her skirt back over her hips and stood up. Her other cheeks were blushing too. Clearing her throat as she turned around, “well thank you again for your discretion. That was a fair punishment, don’t you think?” I nodded, unable to speak. “Good, I’m glad you think so,” she asserted. “Because there’s also the matter of your misbehavior that we need to discuss.” I swallowed hard. “You were in fact at that party, and you were drinking under age and smoking marijuana. Those are serious offenses that the Dean of Students does not take lightly. “But, as I think you might know by now, I like to deal with things like this directly. Fair is fair; you gave me my punishment, now it’s time for you to take yours.” She walked behind the desk, never breaking eye contact. Sitting down, she opened a drawer and produced a long wooden ruler. Setting the ruler on the desk, Anna crooked a finger and beckoned me. She might as well have been using a tractor beam. In seconds I was standing at her side behind the desk. With two hands on my belt, she sternly pulled me closer. Keeping one hand firmly affixed to the front of my pants, she shook a finger at me with the other hand and scolded. “Young man, your behavior this weekend was unacceptable. I do not tolerate boys who refuse to act their age. So now, Matthew, I am going to put you across my knee and spank your bottom good and hard.” My dick was aching, throbbing and dripping. Even though I stood looking down at her, I felt like I was about two feet tall. Anna went to work unfastening my pants. She quickly tugged them to my knees. Grabbing my wrist, she roughly pulled me forward over her lap. I tried to drink in the moment. I was relatively inexperienced sexually, but had fantasized about spanking scenarios extensively, just like this one. Anna seemed to be enjoying herself too. She wrapped an arm tightly around my waist, and rubbed my waiting bottom gently with her other hand. She lifted it for a moment and then… SMACK! I was snapped out of my trance by a sharp sting on my backside. “This is what happens,” she said, raining down three more hard spanks, “to naughty boys who misbehave.” The sting grew and spread as she peppered both cheeks evenly all over my sit spots. The pain wasn’t enough to assuage my erection though, as it throbbed against Anna thighs. She continued chiding me as she spanked. “When you act like a little child, you can expect to be treated like one, along with childish punishments. “Don’t you feel embarrassed, a big boy like you with his pants pulled down getting a smacked bottom like a little boy across his mommy’s knee?” She stopped for a moment. “Well, aren’t you embarrassed, Matthew?” “Yea ma’am,” I mustered. She cupped my cheeks and tightened her grip around my waist, indicating she was far from through with me. “It seems to me you are going to need some rather ‘hands on’ attention and guidance to navigate the rest of your freshman year. I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I have to put you over my lap.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! She kept up the barrage with her bare hand making me wriggle and yelp. Stopping again, I heard the ominous sound of the ruler sliding off the desk. “To make sure you know what to expect going forward, I’m going to give you a good dose with the ruler. This will be just a taste of the spanking you’ll receive the next time we have to have this conversation.” Anna tapped the ruler against my boxer briefs, taking aim. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK! She lit up my butt, striking in the same spot repeatedly, right at the curve of my ass above my thighs, across both cheeks. I gasped as the pain seared across my backside. Just when I thought I might start to cry, Anna paused. She rested the ruler on my back and firmly rubbed my butt. The sting deepened as she did. Just when I thought maybe I was done being spanked, I felt Anna’s fingertips in the waistband of my underwear. “You’ve taken your punishment like a very good boy so far. I’m proud of you. We’re almost finished. Just to make sure I get my point across, I’m going to have to pull these down and give you the ruler on your bare bottom.” She tugged my undies down over the crest of my butt. I held my breath waiting for the crack of the ruler as I felt her retrieve it from the small of my back. I didn’t have to wait long. The ruler exploded across my bare behind and I lost control. I howled and bucked. Anna held me tightly in place and steeled her resolve. “Hold still and take your punishment little boy,” she scolded as she continued beating me. “A good bare bottom spanking is just the medicine you need.” I fell limply across her lap and sobbed. Anna kept spanking for a few minutes, then finally relented. I kept crying as she rubbed my butt and cooed, “good boy, good boy. Let it out.” Eventually she guided me to a sitting position on her lap. Anna rubbed my still bare butt and held my head on her shoulder. Despite the sharp pain in my backside, I felt loved and cared for. A strange sense of relief and comfort washed over me. After a few moments, Anna broke the silence. “You were a brave, good boy and I’m proud of you. But like I said, I don’t think that will be your last spanking this year.” She patted my bare bottom firmly. “We’ll talk more about that later. I want you to come to my office tomorrow at 1:00 pm sharp. Don’t be late. For now, you need to get to your next class.” She slid me off her lap and stood me up. As she pulled my underwear back into place, my erection was returning. Anna noticed and commented on the wet spot that had grown there. “Oh my, a little accident. We’ll have to discuss that tomorrow too.” She fastened my pants and turned me toward the door by my hips. “Off you go,” she said, with three firm seats to the seat of my pants. “And remember to behave yourself, or else…” she smiled at me broadly. I returned the smile, “See you tomorrow ma’am,” I said. “Yes until then,” Anna said, “Oh, and please wear that cute costume from the party when you report to my office.”

Hello everyone, This is the first chapter of my latest story. This is currently being published chapter by chapter on my Patreon and will be available in its entirety later this year. You can find the latest chapters at patreon.com/alex_bridges. All characters are 18+ Chapter 1 It’s not like I did it on purpose. I’m not sorry, but it’s not like I did it on purpose. I babysit three times a week on average, more like five times in the summer. I want to pay for as much of college as I can in cash, and childcare pays better than retail or waiting tables. Especially now that schools keep opening and closing, parents are desperate for a night away. For me, an opportunity to make more money, which I need. I’m not going to risk my reputation as the best sitter in town just because of a little mix up. “Hi, Mrs. Rooney,” I said when she opened the door. “Hi, Sally. Come on in. Thanks for coming over on short notice.” I followed her into her kitchen; the Rooneys always have good stuff in the fridge. I didn’t get where I am as a sitter by abusing fridge privileges, but I don’t pass up the benefit either. She was dressed to the nines. I never asked, but it always seemed like she and Mr. Rooney must be going someplace expensive. Just based on their house alone, they must be one of the richer families I sit for. They’re not wealthy, but they got the upper-middle-class thing down pat. Literally the only people I know whose entryway it an actual room. “Always happy to when I can,” I replied, “I like Jamie and Jackie.” Well behaved kids, easy to get along with. “O, they’re both at friends’ houses tonight. It’ll just be you and Gordy tonight. Is that okay?” Like I couldn’t tell this ‘misunderstanding’ was totally on purpose. She had this guilty, pleading look on her face, but that was so beside the point. “Gordon? Really?” I knew Gordon. More specifically, I’ve known him since kindergarten, which would make fourteen years we’ve known each other. We graduated a little over year ago in the same class; we were even in the same twelfth grade homeroom, and now we’re both sophomores townies at the same college. I’ve sat for the Rooneys more than a few times, and Gordon was, obviously, never one of my charges. I just figured that was because he was the same age as me. Come to think of it, he was never even home when I sat for the kids because if he was, why would they need me to watch the kids? “I wouldn’t ask. Normally he spends the night at my sister’s or a friend’s house when you’re over, but he can’t tonight.” Like, but he’s … “But why does he need a sitter? He’s twenty. He’s, like, a month older than me, right?” And I’m also twenty. “Yes, but I don’t like leaving him alone if it can be helped.” “O … kay. So we’ll just watch a movie, I guess.” Get paid a hundred bucks to watch a movie with one of my peers? Weird, but fine by me. We’re not friends exactly, but we’re friendly. We were sorta friends when we were younger, but less so once we got to middle school. Gordon’s not exactly Mister Popular. Everyone’s nice to him, though, and he seems nice enough too. Just … different crowds. “Not exactly. I can explain fast, but we’re running late.” “That’s fine. I’ll stay.” “O, thank you. We just really need a night out, and since he got in trouble on campus today, he’s not allowed to go to his friend’s house and my sister already had plans and …” Didn’t really need her life story. “Whatever. It’s fine. Just tell me what’s up,” I said with a dab of false cheer to cover my WTF. She’s running late; I’m getting paid whether she tells me all this other stuff or not, so hey, let’s skip to the part I need to know, right? “Gordy,” Mrs. Rooney said, “come sit at the table with us. I want you to hear all of this so you can’t say you didn’t know later.” I followed her eyes, and color me surprised to see Gordon – Gordy at home, apparently; he always hated being called that in school – standing in the corner in his pajamas at six o’clock. I know the difference between lazy around-the-house-clothes and jammies, and those were definitely jammies. He shuffled over blushing all the way to his ears as he kept his eyes pointed at the floor. We all took a seat at the table. I couldn’t tell if he as about to cry, tantrum, or both, and I wouldn’t blame him if he did. If I were him, I’d probably have broken something and peeled out of the driveway while flipping the bird. I mean, we’re not kids. We’re not even teenagers. We’re way too old for a babysitter by about eight years. “First off,” Mrs. Rooney said, “do you know about Gordy’s issue?” “His diapers? Yeah.” Like he could keep that a secret for since literally the entire time I’d known him. No one made fun of him for it, not in a long time. Kindergarten and maybe first grade a little, but even in kindergarten it quickly became normal: our class had a kid in diapers. An adult in diapers now. And he’s not on the spectrum or delayed or anything. I don’t know what the issue is cuz it’s none of my business, but he’s always been in diapers, at least so far as I know. You’d have to be dense to have not figured it out within the first week of kindergarten. And if even if you were dense, when we got to middle school and had to change for gym, I think they let him change in a private stall or something, but you could totally hear him crinkling through those shorts. And no one teased him. Gordon wears diapers, always has; he went to the nurse a couple times a day, and we all knew why. If anything, people in school were kind of protective of him even though he didn’t need it. I even heard a rumor that when a new kid asked about it in tenth grade, the biggest bully in our class hauled off and punched him just to make it perfectly clear no one bullies Gordon. “You’ll need to check and change him tonight.” Just when I thought Gordon – well, when in Rome – Gordy couldn’t bow his head any lower. “Uh, he doesn’t do that himself? Or can’t he?” You don’t get to be the most sought-after babysitter in town by being squeamish about changing diapers, but one fact I do know: toddlers make bigger messes than newborns, and twenty-year-old Gordy has about a hundred and five pounds on the average two-year-old. Though come to think of it, I didn’t know if Gordy needed diapers for that or just for wetting accidents. In the brief second I had to consider that, it occurred to me even a toddler who still has wetting accidents is usually in a pull-up, not a full blown diaper. Our school’s gym shorts covered everything, but there was no mistaking Gordy’s underpants for a pull-up. He wears diapers. “Gordy got a diaper rash last week. If he wants the privilege of changing his own diapers, he needs to be responsible about it, which means no rashes. I’m sorry to even ask you to change him, but I like to be very consistent with the rules, and the rule is if he gets a diaper rash, no changing his own diapers for a month.” Not surprised exactly. She’s one of the stricter parents I sat for. So yeah, she’s his stepmom, but she’s not really an evil stepmom. She’s just a stickler for rules. I was afraid to ask this and very sorry to have to ask it in front of Gordy, poor little guy, but I had to. “Um, does he … both ways?” I guess I could’ve asked him, but he seemed like he’d rather have a hole swallow him than answer any questions. “He doesn’t usually have a dirty diaper in the evening.” “Still …” “Two hundred for the night,” Mrs. Rooney said before I could finish the sentence we both knew I was in the middle of saying. “Two-fifty.” Hey, I’m not one to miss an opportunity. Do you know what books cost for just one semester? “Done.” “Sorry,” I said under my breath to Gordy. I felt bad enough for him that she was making him have a sitter, but how much worse for him to hear what it costs to get someone to look after him, which he doesn’t want anyway, and pretty obvious why anyone would want extra to sit for him. So yes, I felt bad for him, but it’s just … the ‘usually’ in ‘doesn’t usually have a dirty diaper in the evening’ sorta stands out like sore thumb in that sentence, right? It would if you were me, and I am me. “And another thing,” Mrs. Rooney said. “Mommmm,” he whined. A little spark of rebellion flashed in his eyes. I didn’t know about what, but that’s what you expect from someone his age. I guess I understand if life’s circumstances made him a little more likely to give in than lash out even when any of the boys we graduated with most of the girls would’ve told their stepmom where to go by now. “Gordon, last warning.” I looked from her to him, and that little spark turned into a little water, and he looked back down at the table. “As I was saying, Gordon got in trouble on campus today and is grounded, so he’s not spending the night at a friend’s like he normally does. Why don’t you tell the story, Gordy, since you think you’re old enough to say anything you want?” Did I say ‘stepmom’, cuz I meant ‘bitch.’ And Mrs. Rooney is not normally a bitch, so that got me more than a little curious what exactly he’d done to piss her off so mightily. On top of which, it’s not exactly easy to get in trouble on campus. I mean, we’re adults. You can do some seriously stupid stuff on campus without getting in trouble. He sighed and answered, “I called called someone … a name.” “The ‘C’ word,” his stepmom clarified. Or should I say his very reasonable, no more pissed off than she had a right to be (but could still be a whole lot more chill and even more thoughtful) stepmom clarified. “Gordy actually called a woman the ‘C’ word.” “But she …” Gordy tried to defend his actions. “I know what she said, and you had every right to be angry with her, but that is not how you talk to or about women. You know that, and losing your temper is not an excuse for using a slur.” She turned back to me. “I already washed his mouth out, but that language also earned him a bedtime spanking.” “A sp … O … kay.” Of all the ways my day could’ve gone, didn’t see this one coming. Like, at all. I personally never got why some parents get so bent out of shape about bad words (how bad can they be when you can turn on network TV and hear most of them?), and I didn’t really get why she cared given that – did I mention it six times already? – Gordy is twenty years old. On the other hand … now I understood why Mrs. Rooney was taking it so seriously. It’s not that big a deal if you think of the ‘C’ word as a swear, but if you think of it as a slur, yeah, much bigger deal. I guess it depends on how you use it, cuz I could see how it could be a slur, but I’ve always thought of it more as a swear. Not that my opinion meant anything in the circumstances. I’m the babysitter – I literally just work here. “I’m too old,” Gordy interjected probably (more like definitely) more loudly than someone in his position should’ve. I mean, I agree with him, but he still should’ve just kept quiet. There’s standing up for yourself, and then there’s digging the hole deeper. If she had already washed his mouth out (ick!), not let him go out with friends, and hired a sitter for him, I couldn’t imagine any argument, not matter how obviously valid, changing her mind. Mrs. Rooney is a fit woman; I’ve seen her play a heckuva game of tennis at the club, so not a surprise she could be on her feet and have her stepson by the ear so damn fast. Gordy’s not the first kid I’ve gone to babysit and found standing in a timeout; or the first kid I’ve gone to sit and seen spank-marched to the nearest corner for corner time; or even the first kid I’ve sat for who earned a spanking on my watch. But he was the first kid I’ve sat for who wasn’t, ya know, an actual kid. He may have crinkled all the way to the corner; he may have eeped a little when she tugged his ear; he may have tried to get out of the way of her hand as she delivered those underhand spanks; and he may even be kinda cute in a boyish kind of way, but definitely an adult. One whose birthday actually comes before mine. Diapered or not, adult. “Not another word,” Mrs. Rooney warned him, “or I’ll take your pants down right here. You just stand there and listen.” And damn did she mean it, even in evening wear. That tone? Enough to make me almost jump out of my chair to find my own corner and listen. “Are we ready, honey,” Mr. Rooney asked as he appeared from somewhere. Not that I wanna be that babysitter, but Mr. Rooney can take me anywhere so long as he’s wearing his tux. Shawl collar? Makes him seem even taller. No mistaking him for your waiter. And who even goes places that are black tie? “Just a minute,” Mrs. Rooney replied and picked up the pace; they probably had a reservation at one of those places you have to reserve six months ahead of time. Anyway, she continued quickly with, “He takes a bath on Fridays, not a shower. When he gets out of the bath, please give him his spanking. His diaper comes down, and he goes over your knee. He knows where to the hairbrush is. Then it’s straight to bed. Lights out at 9:30. That means no dawdling in the tub, Gordy. Out at 9:15. Understood?” He either understood or he didn’t want to risk saying anything he had every right to say but shouldn’t unless he wanted two spankings in one day. “Any questions,” she asked me. “So … on his … bare?” “Have you ever given a spanking before?” “Yeah … Well, a swat on their reset button,” I said, oddly embarrassed. I mean, most parents don’t even spank anymore, let alone allow – let alone ask! – a sitter to do it. I’ve tapped a tantruming toddler on the bottom before, but that’s not even a spanking. “Are you okay doing it? I wouldn’t ask, but the rule is a bedtime spanking. It’s best for them to get their consequence as soon as possible, and Gordy really needs the structure.” I guess that was all Gordy could take. “But she can’t! She’s the same age as me!” There was silence as Mrs. Rooney turned and looked at him like he was out of his mind. I thought he was in his exact right mind, but if I had to live with her, always strict like she is and and just then downright exuding this weird kind of determined, calm-but-pissed-off vibe she was giving off, I think I’d have kept my mouth shut. I think he realized that too cuz he didn’t say anything else or turn around. So that was two outbursts (justified if unwise) since I’d gotten there plus calling someone the ‘C’ word all in one day. Talk about your verbal incontinence. I don’t feel very strongly about spanking one way or the other. It didn’t do me any harm – though the last one I got was in third or fourth grade, and it was pretty rare before then too – but I’m not one of those crazy people who thinks you can’t possibly raise godly tomatoes (or whatever asinine phrase the bible bunch uses) without it. Still, I was the babysitter. It’s kind of my critical to my job to not let “you’re just the babysitter so you can’t XYZ” slide. On the one hand, pick your battles. On yet another hand, some battles you gotta fight. So I got up and connected that hand hard with Gordy’s butt. “I’m the babysitter. I’m in charge. And if your stepmom says you’re getting a spanking, you’re getting a spanking.” Two bonuses to stepping up like I did. First, and this wasn’t the main thing but was intentional, Mrs. Rooney smiled thinly and stood up, not to follow up on her threat to spank Gordy but to leave. Good riddance. Who needs those vibes around? Second, unintentional bonus: holy crap did I feel more powerful than I ever have in my life. And turned on. My promise ring didn’t make the journey from youth group to my mom’s car, but never I felt the way I did right then without a D or a D-cell battery before. Downside? Gordy finally lost it and started sniffling. I know the two spanks I landed didn’t actually hurt through his diaper, but I’m sure he was feeling about two inches tall having his college classmate spank him on his diaper while telling him she could and would give him a real spanking later that same night. I hated that I made him feel that way, even if I was just his stepmom’s instrument in this case. But also, and I feel guilty for saying this, it kinda added to the whole arousal hearing him sniffle. So … there’s a thing I learned about myself that night. Mrs. Rooney said to me, “I think you’ll do fine, but if you have any questions, Gordy will answer them. Not his first trip over a knee.” “Another fifty.” Did I say that? Good for me! “That’s fair. Edward,” she called out to wherever Mr. Rooney had gone, “ready when you are.” To me she said, “Thank you again and sorry for all the fuss. I didn’t want to call just anyone over. I trust you. He may not want you here, but I told him you’d keep everything between us, won’t you?” “Of course.” Also, ‘may not?’ Try resented the hell out of it, understandably so. And I resented the hell out of her asking me to sit and springing this on me. “We’ll be home very late.” “I know. I’ll probably be asleep on the couch when you get home.” I stood against the doorframe and watched Mr. Rooney count out three hundred dollars and put it next to the pizza money. I told them to have fun. She called me a godsend and barely avoided the door hitting her on the butt on the way out. To my right, Gordy in the corner, no longer sniffling but still staring at the wall on his naughty spot. To my left, three hundred dollars on the counter just for spanking and diapering a grown man. If I’d only known about this cottage industry sooner! Heck, I’d have paid off my car by now. Go to patreon.com/alex_bridges to continue reading

Max was on a train heading to live with an older woman. Max was 17, black haired, small in size and frame, feminine looking much to the young man's disappointment and ridicule of his peers. He wore a black leather jacket that was a bit to big on him, a white T-shirt and blue jeans. Max despite being young and small had already had a laundry list of crimes, he got into illegal drag races, robbery, destruction of property, breaking and entering, theft and fighting. To be fair to Max he was always ways trying to please his dumbass greaser friends and show them that he was just as manly and as tough as them. He had always followed them, for one reason or another one to not get bullied, two looking popular and tough being with them. And three he always thought they were the epitome of Manliness and desperately wanted to be like them. He had always done what they asked him to whether it was stealing beer or helping them commit various crimes, I guess that's how he ended up on this bus leaving everything behind. It all started when his friends we're going to rough up some other gang who were moving in on their turf, it was just supposed to be simple thing just scary the shit out of them, rough them up a bit and tell them to watch their step, but everything just went out of control and turned into a full-out gang war, when it ended a lot of stuff was destroyed and people dead, some of them gang members at least four were innocent bystanders. When things got out of control Max hid in a bathroom of a soda shop, which was ironic had Max not have pissed himself when Skeeter got his brains blown out, he would have used it. When the fight was over, people were either taken to jail, taken to the hospital or to the morgue. Max was one of the lucky ones to just go to jail, he was still in deep trouble even though he said that he didn't do anything and that he hid the moment shit hit the fan, but he was still there and was going to be charged and punished like everyone else. By all accounts he should have been put in jail with the others but due to his young age, his looks, his size and the fact that he made a deal with the police the judge took pity on him and basically sent him to live with someone in some Podunk town he never heard of far away, to stay with some family friend of the judge till Max had not just graduated from school, but until he could be trusted to not cause trouble. It took him five days on the train to get to an old looking train station, Max did think about just running to another state, but the judge told him if he didn't show up at a Miss Scarlet’s house, the police would hunt him down and throw him in jail with all his old gang members he testified against. When he got off the train he looked around, the station was old it had to be something from the 1800 plus it was surrounded by a Forest. When Max saw that no one was here for him he sat on an old bench and waited to be picked up, he took out his straight razor comb and ran it through his hair wondering if such a little speck in the world even had a drugstore where he could pick up some hair dye, Max didn't want his black hair to fade back to its natural bright blond color.

Part 1: Paige hitched her backpack up onto her shoulder as she hefted two black garbage bags off the passenger seat of her car before easing the door shut with her hip. She was 20 and short, barely 5 feet tall, and she had wavy light brown hair that frizzed out around her face unless she held it back with clips or bands, or like today, sunglasses perched lazily on top of her head. She might not look it, based on the number of times she was carded for R-rated movies or given children’s menus at restaurants, but she was soon to start her junior year of college. She was living back home for the summer break to save money on housing, and to “bond” with her soon-to-be stepfather and 18 year old step-sister. Though she hated that idea and saw much more than polite small talk with either of them unlikely, she was still looking forward to the summer at home. Paige knew that she should really look for a job or at least an internship and that many open spots were already filling up, but at the same time she felt like she deserved a little bit of a break after such a hard semester. Working on the whole new-family thing would be work enough, anyway, she reasoned. Or at least that was what she had told her dubious mom when Paige had confessed her failure to secure summer employment. Having a roommate at college, nice as she was, had also meant that Paige had little alone time and made indulging in her ABDL interests basically impossible save for some late night online reading and photo browsing and the couple of weekends where the girl, Tess had gone to see her boyfriend. It would be nice to be able to have the house to herself during the days and her own room with a lock on the door at night. And for as long as she didn’t have a job, she would have the house to herself, despite the two new inhabitants who had moved in this year. Jake and her mom both worked weekdays and from what she had heard, went out together most nights or invited friends over to the house. Her mom’s social life had quickly dwarfed Paige’s own. As for Mia, the girl was equally gregarious, it seemed. From what she had heard and experienced in her brief meetings with the girl, Paige thought that she was nice enough, but they didn’t have many shared interests. Mia loved to run, hike, and cook, woke up at the crack of dawn to get laps in at the community pool, went out with friends and her boyfriend all the time, and this summer, she had not one, but two jobs lined up already, on top of her full social calendar. Paige would much rather watch nostalgic cartoons and eat pop tarts and captain crunch on the couch than do a 5k for childhood diabetes, and she was perfectly fine with that. Mia on the other hand, would come down to the sight of this during winter break, having already swam miles and miles, showered, and changed, only to whip up egg white omelets for herself and her parents, getting a full-mouthed mutter of “no fanks” from Paige. And before the two lovebirds had come downstairs, she would have the table set and the dishwasher loaded, counters sparkling. It was like the girl never stopped moving. During the last such impromptu family breakfast that Paige had been a part of, which turned out to be a daily routine for the house now, she had felt so out of place, munching on her multi-colored crunchberries with her bare hands while the other three had a lively conversation about the local mayoral candidates, some fundraiser, and the current situation in the middle east. Clara knew the gist of what was going on, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough in her knowledge of any of it to really engage in the conversation. Add in that the three of them knew many of the same people, many of Jake and Mae’s friends the parents of Mia’s classmates, and Paige often felt like a fourth wheel being talked over more than an equal contributor to the conversation. The idea of ever seeing Mia as a little sister seemed laughable. They would put up with one another for family dinners once or twice a year until they started families of their own or until Jake and her mom fizzled out. But there wouldn’t be the sisterly bond that her mom went on and on about. Tossing her bags down on the floor in the foyer and kicking off her bright yellow flip flops next to a cubby of neatly stacked sneakers and sandals, Paige called out to the empty house to see if She was alone. “Mom? Jake? Mia? Anybody home?” There was no answer, save for the clicking of nails and high pitched whimpers from the kitchen. Making her way through the house, Paige took in the subtle changes even since she had been here for winter break. It was weird to think that even though this had been where she grew up, other people had been making this their own home in the time that she had been gone this year. The fridge was covered in swim team and bake sale schedules, a straight ‘A’ report card, and an acceptance letter to Princeton. A few photos from her childhood were now mixed in with others of her mom and Jake at the beach, at a concert, on a cruise, and then a few of the tall, smooth dark haired Mia. In one, her red, school-issued swimsuit is stretched across her ample breasts, skimming down along her curves to the high cut outs above her shapely hips. She looked like a supermodel or an extra on bay watch more than a high school senior. As if to contrast this, one of the photos nearest that one is of Paige from middle school the one summer she tried the swim team. In the photo her bright purple and turquoise bathing suit clings loosely to her flat chest, slightly off-centered for being too large, follows her square midsection straight down to her non-existent hips, and sags down below her butt a bit, worn thin and pilled from sitting on the rough pool deck outdoors. Her bright orange goggles are pulled up on the top of her head and her face is pink from sunburn with reddish raccoon eyes from the overly-tight goggles. Her hair is wet and frizzing out around the bands of the goggles, off to the sides and down below her pigtails. The worst part of it is that she was barely 3 years younger in that photo than Mia was in her own. Reasoning that she could probably “spill” something on the photo some time this summer, Paige looked away from the starkly contrasted photos and towards the whining and wagging fur ball across the room. “Hi Lox!” She said, sliding open the crate door and immediately being knocked onto her butt by the small jumping Beagle’s furious kisses. She still couldn’t believe that her mom, after refusing her desperate pleas for a puppy her entire childhood, sucked in so quickly when Mia had made the same request. If he wasn’t so damned cute and friendly Paige might resent the pup. As it stood, he didn’t help with her resentment towards her step-sister-to-be. When she had asked her mom why she caved now with Mia when she had said no so often to Paige, her mom had said that Mia had “shown how responsible she is”. Whatever that means. As if Paige weren’t responsible. Whatever kind of revisionist history that was, Paige didn’t know. She had kept a cactus alive for five years on the bathroom window ledge, thank you very much. Sure, she had forgotten it’s existence for the better part of two of those years, and fine, cacti do best when you basically forget about them, and okay, it had ultimately died when she had dropped it into the sink and then overwatered it, upon remembering it one day, but still! Paige scratched Lox’s ears again and filled a glass with water before heading back to the living room for her backpack. She didn’t feel like lugging the two heavy garbage bags she had shoved her clothing into up the stairs just yet. Maybe if she left them long enough her mom would just do it. She had tossed every article of clothing that she had with her at school into the bags at the last minute, mixing clean and dirty together, not worrying about it since her mom was sure to rewash all of it anyway. She had never really let Paige do the wash since she had flooded the kitchen with soap bubbles and she commented on every break about the way Paige was laundering her clothes at school, pointing out the coffee spills and food stains on blouses and dirty seats of her pants from sitting out by the lake. Paige’s mom had seemed dubious about those stains, pointing out that some of her underwear had large brown splotches as well, but Paige had blushingly sworn up and down that it was from the lake. And it WAS from sitting by the lake. Paige would sit there wiggling in the wet and muddy grass and read and write ABDL stories for hours, the dampness of her pants only adding to the excitement. Would someone think she had had an accident? It would be easily explained away, especially when she showed the bottom of her muddy shoes, but no one ever stopped or asked her, never seemed to give her a second look. Not except for her mom who didn’t seem to accept the excuse. Now that there wasn’t the mud itself to prove her point, having washed her things, she felt like a little kid lying about an accident… or more than one. Not that there wasn’t some amount of thrill to that. It certainly added to the fervor of her writing those winter nights here at home. But as much as she was interested in the subject matter in her stories, she still bristled at the idea that her mom would honestly believe she was having accidents-and of that type-during the day no less. And it hadn’t helped that she had felt it best to have this conversation during one of those family breakfasts during her last visit, holding up a stained pair of her panties and jeans and asking about it in front of Mia and Jake, the three of them inevitably talking over and about her, suggesting stain removers that worked with toddlers Mia had babysat for with similar stains on their onesies and pants… despite Paige’s refrain that it wasn’t that kind of stain. It was with a strange and intoxicating mix of humiliation and arousal that met these memories. Paige didn’t fully understand them, but she did know, from the stories she read online and those she wrote, that she wasn’t the only person out there like this. It was confusing knowing where the line was though, where it became too much. And yet, even now she could feel a heat and dampness between her thighs. Like in one of Paige’s favorite stories where a girl pretended to have night time accidents to get her mother to buy her Goodnites and then to spank her as a means to “train her body” to stop wetting the bed. Paige often imagined herself in this same position, but it was always with some faceless mom figure, not her own actual mother. When she imagined her own mom it seemed wrong. And while it had been exciting at first that her mom thought she had been having accidents, she wasn’t sure she liked the way she started hovering after that, her constant refrains about using the bathroom before they went out growing frustrating. And yet, Paige thought, shimmying out of her leggings in her own room and kicking her now slightly damp underwear, (the memories aside, she still could enjoy the fantasies. Riffling through her backpack to the zippered inner compartment behind her laptop, Paige’s fingers found the soft open plastic of the goodnites bag and eased one of the pull-ups out with a smile. Pulling the goodnight on, she turned to the mirror on the back of her closet and imagined that her mom, or some faceless mom figure, to be more accurate, had checked her panties and found them damp, not from arousal as they were, but from a near miss at the potty. She would be marched upstairs to her room and the woman would pull a goodnite out of, not her backpack, but her underwear drawer, where they would be prominently housed next to her few childish and stained panties. She would be scolded for her accident as her mother-figure would place the pull-up on her bed, then leave to retrieve a towel and hairbrush before beckoning Paige over to her lap as she sat in Paige’s own desk chair. Paige’s protests that it was an accident and only a small one, that she had mostly made it to the potty in time, would be met with chiding about how big girls went potty before it was such an emergency and that this was her third accident this week. Paige would then be summoned forward where the woman would pull her leggings down to her ankles, followed by her damp panties with a “tsk” and a disappointed shake of the head, before guiding her over the towel on her lap and lifting the brush to- “-re you up here?” Paige’s fantasy was brought up short, her hand pressed against a now vaguely damp spot in her goodnight, her whole body wanting to continue while her brain kicked back into control. Shit, her mom was home! She shouldn’t be home for another hour, Paige thought with a grumble as she grabbed her leggings quickly off the floor, pulling them on just in time for the door to her room to open after just a cursory knock. How had she forgotten to lock that!?

He almost fell to the ground but was pushed close against the wall. Her body penning him. He could feel her skin warming from the fresh blood that filled her veins. She whispered into his ears. "Oh baby, you just did it for me. Can't believe they'd bring a helpless child to a fight. Guess I'll have to take care of you. Better get you washed. I got so much blood on you. And you pissed yourself too." She shook her head and clicked her tongue. yet firm English accent. No. Something closer to Irish. The man shivered as he felt her warm body up against his bareback. Her wavy red hair hung in his face as she places her arms around his chest and her chin on his head. Her perky breast was on his neck. His heart was racing. Pounding like a relentless debt collector. Like he was in the paw of a lioness toying with her prey. "Are you cold darling? You've been shivering ever since I brought you inside. You should be all warm after our bath. It was a little messy out there, and all that rain. At least most of it will be washed away. It's pouring heavy tonight." The man felt her weight on him. He was boxed in from all sides by the soft and pale creature. Her questions were farcical in nature. Asked if he was cold knowing full well that wasn't the reason he was shaking. What she did outside to his partners. Why he was pissing the thing she strapped to him. "Still you're silent." She said softly as she pulls off him and rubs her hands on his back. "Bruises and scars. How could someone be so ruff with a fragile thing?" She kisses his bruises from the other day's hunt. "No more boo-boos for now on. I'll keep you out of harm's way." Part of him was furious as he was afraid. He'd watch her take down two of his fellow hunters. Their blood spilled from their necks before they could fire a bullet or stake her in the heart. Two far more experience than a rookie with a year of hunting under his belt. She laughed as she killed them and proceeded to attack him next. Grabbing him by his neck and squeezing it with her delicate pale hand with strength far unexpected for a woman, let alone most men. Her speed left him little time to react and his grip left little air to breathe as he was slammed against the wall. She only relented with she heard him beg and the tears falling down his cheeks. To add to his embarrassment, he soiled his pants in the fear he couldn't suppress. This wasn't some basic creature, no foolish goblin or brain rotted zombie. She smelt the scent of urine and her eyes widened and her grip released. He almost fell to the ground but was pushed close against the wall. Her body penning him. He could feel her skin warming from the fresh blood that filled her veins. She whispered into his ears. "Oh baby, you just did it for me. Can't believe they'd bring a helpless child to a fight. Guess I'll have to take care of you. Better get you washed. I got so much blood on you. And you pissed yourself too." She shook her head and clicked her tounge. She pulled and pushed him into her domain. She slapped his ass every time he tried to resist.She escorted him to the bathroom and made him watch as she prepared him a bath and undressed him herself. She then did the same for herself, tossing her blood-soaked clothes to the floor. They bathed together, the fighting he did had long ceased as she smacked and pinch his butt into submission. He felt like some child, which was what was intended. She teased him and mocked him with baby words. He remembered her saying this. "You can't even wash your crack right. Such a mess. No wonder you wet your knickers and pants. Boys like you need something more practical. Nappies." He didn't understand what that meant at the time. He glanced back at her when he had the courage. Emerald green eyes, rich red hair, and dark lipstick against her pale white skin. Her beauty was similar to that of a statue made from marble. Her eyes were another story. Stunning emeralds drew him in. All she did was smile back. Still, he knew this was just a monster in the form of a gorgeous woman. She continued to clean him until she was satisfied. She then began on herself. The water grew murky with red blood. The blood of the men he'd considered allies in this war of the unnatural. They stepped out of the bath and she dried him off with a towel and then herself. Once the creature finished cleaning herself off and attempt to tickle her captive to laugh a little...it worked. They finished and she escorted him to her room. He thought it was over for him but he found this torture and embarrassment would continue. She stepped ahead of him yet held his hand firmly. She opened the white-painted door and kept her eyes locked with his. "You are going to love this." She pulled him inside and what he saw made him want to scratch his head. There was not a single window in the room. It was large and white. Where the wall and ceiling met there was some sort of tapestry along each wall. Safari print with the letter of the alphabet correlating with an animal. The room had a white crib with a mobile above and a changing table next to it with multiple stacks of diapers and other changing supplies. A blue toy chest off to the side. The carpet was clean and soft and the air was sweet like baby powder. Opposite of the baby stuff was a king-size bed with blue sheets and pillows. Complete with nightstands and an old lamp. One thing about the baby stuff that bothered him was its size. So big. Even the diapers. He could easily fit in the diapers and cribs. That's when the hunter's eyes grew larger and the emerald-eyed creature laughed and pulled her prey deeper inside. He wasn't going to be killed like the others, she had other plans. She took the naked man to the changing table. "Upon the table love. Mommy wants to get this over with." She waited for him to move. "Now!" She raised her voice. The hunter heard the creature raise her voice as she remained in eye contact. He started to move, part of him felt as if he was in a trance. Was it fear, some spell of magic, hypnotism, or just him not being an idiot? Whatever it was, he was laying on the soft padding of the table and having his butt tickled. "Good boy. Might as well just lay down and let me help you. Pissing yourself out there just shows you aren't nearly ready to do big boy things like killing what goes bump in the night." She was then applying lotion on his bottom and humming a tune. Mary had a little lamb. "Help me out and keep those legs up. Gonna have to shave those tomorrow. A little too hairy, but not too much muscle either, just a boy." She said picking at the hunter's confidence. "It'll be gone eventually. The muscle. I'll fatten you up just a little. And those muscles will eventually fade away." He watch as she reached under the table and grabbed something. She kept eye contact and her wicked smile. She pulled up a bottle of baby powder and went back down for something else. "Like wearing clouds darling. So soft and comfy." She pulled out a giant diaper with the designs of jungle animals covering its white background. "Nappies are so cute." The hunter couldn't look away from her. Even as she focused on the diaper. Her eyes then glance back and him as she started powdering his butt and proceeded to unfold the embarrassing thing with her hands. Her smile grew wider. She saw the pain on his face and reveled in it. "Don't make that face. My babies wear nappies because they need nappies. You pissed yourself. I had to bath you myself and you had crumbs in your crack. You can't even wipe correctly." She slides the unfolded diaper under his waiting bottom. "Bring those legs down." The hunter wanted to die. His eyes started to get teary but he didn't let a single tear fall down. She fixed the positioning of the diaper with her pale hands and then slide her hand down his legs. Leaving trails of powder on them. "Before I tape this well-earned nappy on your little butt, I want you to say it for me." He looked at her in confusion. "Say what?" Her green eyes lit up. "Are you my little baby boy?" Her dark lips smiled from ear to ear. "My helpless little boy." He hesitated. She wanted him to debase himself a tad bit more. She smacked the side of his leg. It stung him. "Tell me! You are my little baby boy! Tell Mommy what she wants to hear." He never thought a creature would be telling him this. "I'm your baby boy." He said flatly. He felt another smack on his ass now. "Why?" "Mean it. More pride in it. Louder. You are Mommy's helpless baby boy. Say it." She wanted to hear it again. It made her tingle. She was putting the fresh blood to work. This made her feel truly alive again. "I'm your helpless baby boy, Mommy." He said louder and prouder. Well not actually prouder. The opposite actually. He felt another smack. "I"m your little helpless baby boy. I need you, Mommy." "You're not a man. Not some hunter. Just a baby. A baby in need of his nappy. Tell me, baby. Ask me to put it on you. Make it sound good too. Or else." She flashed her fangs and her green eyes squinted with authority. He did so quickly. "Mommy. Please put my diaper on. Please, I need it." She looked at him and he knew it wasn't enough. "I'm just a baby. I need a nappy. I can't hold it, Mommy. I'm..." Damnit. A tear was rolling down his cheek. "I'm not a man. I'm a baby. A baby. Mommy please, put a nappy on me before I have an accident." "Of course cutie. No need to beg." She quickly began tapping the diaper on and had it tightly wrapped around his waist. "Precious little boy. Feels like a cloud doesn't it?" The diaper felt comfortable. The thickness of it made him feel like he was wearing a pillow. Soft and comfy like the creature said. He didn't respond to her. He didn't want to satisfy this bastard again. She'd probably enjoy hearing him confirm what she said before. This woman was into a sweet form of domination. A maternal one. Where she's needed and is in control. She helped the hunter off the table and had him standing in a juvenile diaper as she caressed it with her hands. "You won't be using the bathroom again, except for baths and brushing your teeth. For now on, when you gotta go potty..." She squeezed the diaper and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "You'll go in here." She tapped on the safari diaper with her finger. "Your nappy." She said soft and sensually. She then had him sit on the floor and she walked over to the toy chest that was in the corner. The pale naked creature bent over and unlocked the chest. Soon she was tossing toys his way. Toys from now to a 100 years ago. The older ones were in amazing condition. She turned around and gave him an order. "Play." The hunter did as he was told, but he wasn't in the slightest enjoying it. It was mostly baby toys and dolls made from fabric and stuff with cotton. Wooden block and some modern toys that made noises and flashed colors. His captor watched and smiled. She eventually went to the closet and began to dress herself. She now wore red leggings and a tan bra. Nothing else, she didn't need to cover up much around her baby. She then was hovering over the man and the curious thought of how he tasted entered her mind. She was then pricking him with her fangs and the hunter was pissing himself in fear leading to the start of this story. This was how this hunter found himself dress like some baby. "Now your all wet. Tell me, does having a wet nappy feel nice? It's still warm, baby." She moved her fingers up and down the wet portion of the diaper. "Being Lady Seymour's child is a pleasure. I'm very sweet to my babies. Even the unhappy ones change their minds after a while." She whispered softly in his ear and a kiss on his cheek. The hunter couldn't deny it. She was enchanting. He turned his head to look her in the eyes, those rich green emeralds that he couldn't look away from. Those grinning black lips and beautiful face. Her silky soft words were seductive. She made being her pet sound right. Her baby. The hunter needed to remember. To resist the mesmerism she had slowly placed him under. He felt a hand caress his face and a kiss on his cheek. "Now I'll go fetch you a bottle. Be good." She stood up and exited the room. The hunter wanted to stand up and search the room. But she told him to play. To be good. He didn't want to upset her. He knew he wasn't supposed to be standing up or searching for something to kill her. The hunter starts to look around. The lack of windows was smart. She must be in this room a lot. Not like the bed was an obvious clue. He expected a coffin. One hunter told a story of how they caught his cousin Elvis, yup that Elvis, in his coffin, and ended the fat Hawaiian virgin blood-drinking bastard. NOW THAT'S WHAT A HUNTER DOES. Fighting the mesmerism. He reminded himself what he was. Not some pet or baby for some pervert of a creature with some age play fetish. He had studied for this. He'll bide his time and wait for the chance to stake her overconfident ass in her dark evil heart. One of the rattles. Keep one of them hidden and sharp. Not as effective as blessed wood but enough force can do the trick. At the very least she'd kill him. The creature returned 15 minutes later with a baby bottle in hand. Far larger and more juvenile images on it. "A warm bottle to calm your nerves." She crouched down and offered the Hunter his drink. He grabbed it and examined it. Warm white milk from what he could tell. He then saw pale fingers snapping in his face. "Don't look at it like that. I wouldn't give you anything that would cause you harm. Drink up. You need it. Don't be so nervous." She ordered with her stern motherly tone. Trying to avoid eye contact with the creature forcing him to play baby; he lifted the bottle's nipple into his mouth with both hands and suckled. His new Mommy grinned with delight and moved in closer. She planted a wet kiss on his cheek and sucked her teeth. "You are so cute sucking on that bottle. Who'd let you ever be a Hunter? You are much more suited for nappies and acting as you really are, a baby." She said teasing her new baby/pet. She began to play with your hair. "We are going to have so much fun together." She pulled on the Hunter hair and made him look at her. He refused, as it would as looking into Medusa's evil gaze. Luckily it wasn't as lethal, but becoming her thrall might be worse. He felt the urge to obey. The image of her pale marble beauty, deep red hair, and emerald eyes. It made the blood rush into the spot. The creature was annoyed. He wouldn't meet her eyes. She grabbed his chin as he drank the bottle. He was going strong. At least he was drinking it. "Is there something wrong. Look me in the eyes and tell Mommy." She jerked his head directly facing hers and got as close as she needed. The Hunter tried not to look at her. Yet he couldn't resist and choose to simply close them shut. Nice and tight. He felt the grip on his chin grow tighter. "You little brat. Am I not worthy of your gaze anymore? Let alone your words. Such ungratefulness is not going to be tolerated. Spanking for you!" She exclaimed as she stood up. "Wait." The Hunter said removing the rubble nipple from his mouth. "I just have something in my eye?" He came up with a quick and lousy excuse." She shook her head with an incredulous look on her face. She removed her wavy red hair from her face. She noticed her baby still wasn't looking her in the eyes. She could tell. She had learned to notice a lifetime ago. She was hiding it. His little resistance was turning her on. It felt better when she had fresh blood running in her veins. It filled her with life, and made her really want to do something 'fun' for her. "You're going to lie to me? You're only going to speak when you're going to get some discipline?" "No. It's not like that." It totally was like that. "It just. You're intimidating. And pretty. I just feel awkward looking like this." His little compliment made her heart flutter. Still, he was going to get it, and no amount of honey could change it. She did love the compliments. "Awkward? Intimidating?" She asked. She shook her head in disapproval and clicked her teeth. "Me having to put you back in baby pants? I'm not the one who can't hold it. Or beg for mercy." She reminded him. "Get over to that bed. I think we should lay down the ground rules." She said pointing towards it. He looked at her and then the bed. Her face may have looked displeased but he could see the delight in her eyes. "I didn't mean it like that Mommy. I've just never met a woman like you." "You're still talking and not crawling?" He lowered his head and crawled over to the bed across the room. His Mommy looks on at his diaper butt and grins. "That looks right for some discipline." She walked over to the bed after he had climbed onto it. She had reached into her nightstands shelf and pulled out a paddle. Made of wood and image of bats going down the flat paddle. She sat down next to him and place an arm around his shoulder like she would a pal. With swiftness, she had thrown the grown adult over her lap. She tapped his padded butt with the paddles and stroked his head. "Say you deserve this spanking." The Hunter, if he is worthy of such a title, looked peeved. The amount of humiliation this bitch had put him through. He had to kill her. He needed to. He then felt a hand under his chin and an iron grip squeezing his cheeks. "Cat got your tounge darling? Say it, or I got worse in store for you." Her stern motherly look had made him smaller inside. "I deserve a spanking." He did as she ordered and told her the words that made her tingle with delight. "That wasn't good enough. I didn't hear my name. You said it earlier when you were all scared." She said with a grin and a spank. "I'll pull down this nappy and leave you purple. Now say it again...correctly!" She raised her voice as she hit his padded butt again. "Mommy, I deserve a spanking. I need a spanking, Mommy." The pale creature cooed and stroke the young man's head. Her baby's head. "Please spank me, Mommy Seymour." She leaned into his ear and whispered to him. "Brats like you need to be put in your place. And in your nappies too." That was when the creature started to dole out her punishment. The sound of the wooden paddle smacks and striking wet padding. It stung his ass like splash into a pull from high up the wrong way. A sharp pain spread across his butt as he kicked and bucked in her lap. Her supernatural strength kept him from escaping and his actions only delighted her more and cause him more pain. "A brat. First, you beg me for your punishment and then you act like this. What am I going to do with you?" The pale creature asked rhetorically. She then moved the brat around in her lap to place on leg over his legs. She grabbed his hair and continued her spanking. "Try to struggle now. Can't? Mommy's too strong for the silly baby isn't she?" The paddling was continuing. He wanted it to cease. The entire dilemma he was stuck in. As she punished him he could only imagine piercing her heart with a sharp rattle through the mounds of fat on her chest. It continued for about another 50 or more spanks until she suddenly stopped. The baby had shed a few tears in that time and pleads for mercy. She was wiping them away with her thumbs. "I'm done. I think you had enough. Just remember. Mommy will do it again when you try to be a bad baby." Her condescending tone was had made worse of how her hands were now patting the diaper. "You know what will make your cry baby \butt cute as hell. A dummy." She released him from her clenched legs snd tugged him farther into the bed. She then reached into her nightstand and pulled out another cute little item. It was a pacifier. It was purple and the shield was shaped like a bat's wing. It was cringy. The irony was a thing the creature found amusing. It even had a yellow string to make it a necklace. The hunter sat in a wet diaper on the bed as she removed the cap off it and brought it up to the Hunter's lips. "When you don't want to speak. You're gonna be sucking and chewing on this." She said sternly. The Hunter tried not to look her in her hypnotic emerald eyes. She grabbed by his chin and forced him to look at her. She was then on top of him and pinned him to the bed with her hand and weight. She didn't blink and only starred at him. Her stoic face started to grin. He'd had peed himself again. Some during the spanking and more just now. "Mesmerism is such an effective power. Just because you know you are under my little spell doesn't change anything. Now suck on this Dummy. Then I'm going to get that nasty butt of yours cleaned up." The Hunter started to open his mouth as she slowly and surely slid the dummy into his mouth. He did have lucidity. He wouldn't become her thrall. What she calls her baby. "Why am I your baby?" He asked as his mouth closed down on rubber. She smiled with excitement when he asked that. "Why? I told you." She enjoyed playing with him. She then saw the look in his eyes. He wanted to know. Why this. Why did she do this? She left her finger in the pacifier's ring. "Suck it. And I'll give you a better answer." The hunter did so with her pale finger there. Back and forth his suckled on the rubber nipple. She smirked and shook her head with approval. "Come to your changing table. I'll explain. I promise." She removed her finger and moved towards the table. The Hunter followed behind...on his hands and knees. The creature lift the big baby up and gently laid him on the table. She placed her pale fingers on the tapes of the diaper. "You soaked it quicker than expected. Just a natural baby huh? You'll be messing too. This little kink of mine goes all the way." The Hunter's heart dropped. "Shwit muself?" "Don't use that word. Don't make me spank you again." She threatens again nonchalantly. She began to remove the tapes. They crinkled and ripped as one tap after another was removed. "Nappies are just so perfect for domination." The nature of her kind. Domination. It was what they loved. They only bow when forced most of the time and love to bend others to their will. The pale creature was simply getting off to this. BDSM is considered normal for bloodsuckers. This however was out of the norm. She pulled down the diaper and was reach below for the supplies. She grabbed powder and along with it ointment. The Hunter had looked up at her when she first put him on the table. The Emeralds had caught him again. Her enchanting wicked smile and beautiful pale features. For a moment, maybe staying with her wasn't so bad. She grabbed the cool wipes and started cleaning him. Similar to how she washed him. She hummed a tone that soothed the both of them. As stern as she could be. This creature was gentle like dotting Mother. "Treating someone like this. As my baby, it just hits on the right buttons. Age play you'd call it. But it's better when you force it down someone's throat like a stream of warm milk." She giggled. "What better fate than that? Others are into much darker things. I just want to care for you. Make you love me." She clean his front and then slid it down and up his butt. She enjoyed humiliation too. All of it. What continued to excite her was when he would start to like it. Giggle and appreciate it. Now that would be the most gratifying. The creature then lifted his legs and pulled the wet diaper out from under him. She quickly rolled it up and tossed it in a nearby diaper pail. The creature reached down below the Hunter's view and came up with more diapers. Two this time. One with Baby written on it in blocks and another one with blue space theme diaper. "Pick which one you want Love." It didn't matter. He'd be wearing diapers no matter what. "The blew won." He said through his pacifier. It was better than to baby one but not by much. "Cute choice." She thought of putting him in the white one. Then again, the blue one wasn't a step up. "It's a good nappy. Very adorable. Space aliens and adorable planets. Just imaging your big nappy butt is turning me on even more." The Hunter watched the pale woman unfold the thick blue diaper and slide it under his butt. The smirk is ever-present. Her green eyes kept her pacifier sucking victim entranced. Something about her made him want her to please her. Why would he want to please her? To gain her trust? He wasn't sure. She grabbed the ointment and spread it over his bum. She hummed her tune as she babied him into her arms. Domination isn't always barbed. It can be gentle and sweeter than sugar. Perfect for keeping babies as babies. After applying the rash ointment she did a layover of lotion on his nether areas. She even took time to tickle his bottom. "Now time to powder you up and get that nappy on. Pissy pants." She grabbed the powder and covered him in it and rubbed the lavender-scented powder in. "So adorable. So helpless. Precious." Soon The Hunter found the diaper being tapped on nice and tight. She pulled the tapes on his crotch firmly on each side. She patted his diaper and squeezed it. "Squishy little sponge. Nappies are so your thing." she teased again. The Hunter felt the softness on the clean dry diaper around him. Part of him knew he didn't need it. Yet another made him feel safe. It was only made better by the presence of the creature...woman who changed him. "Come on baby. Come close and wrap those legs around Mommy. I'm strong enough to carry you. I can bounce you in my lap later if you want. I will actually." She told him in the sweetest tone. The Hunter panicked. He wanted that. He wanted that. It made him excited down there. To be in her lap. He could just imagine how sick and weird it was. Fuck! He moved closer to her felt her arms come behind his butt and lifted him up. The Hunter wrapped his legs around the woman like a baby as she took him back to the bed and sat him down. She just stood over him looking sultry and smug. Her curly red hair on her face. "Even though you've been a brat. I think you deserve a treat. Two of them." She snickered. The undead creature had started to rub her busty breast and bounced them while they were still in her bra. "You hungry? Two fat tits all for you brat." She said in her teasing tone. She was even more confident now. "I'm still warm. But for how long? Better-" She unhooked her massive pale breast and let them hang. They looked soft and sweet. "-suck me up now. They're still full of freshness." The creature crawled onto the bed and tossed her bra on the floor. "What a little baby. You were all big and tough only a few hours ago? Stalking me through the night. Now, look where that got you. Not a bad situation, is it?" He was gently sucking on the woman's breast. He didn't think about the action and simply did it instinctually. The warm and honey-sweet milk traveled down his throat. He didn't even think of those whose blood warmed this woman. He looked up at her and into the emerald eyes. He felt a hand on his diapered butt and the smug yet gentle smile on the pale woman's lips. "That's right." He was gently sucking on the woman's breast. He didn't think about the action and simply did it instinctually. The warm and honey-sweet milk traveled down his throat. He didn't even think of those whose blood warmed this woman. He looked up at her and into the emerald eyes. He felt a hand on his diapered butt and the smug yet gentle smile on the pale woman's lips. "That's right." The hunter continued to drink her nectar. "Drink more. Faster. You're hungry." Her hand caress and spanked his diaper rear. "Drink it up." She stroked his head and bit her lip. She closed her eyes and exhales a moan. "Faster!" She moaned through clenched teeth. The suckling and pulling off her nipple. The noise of him slurping her up. She chuckled at the irony. It all egged her on. The diapers. The humiliation. The entire situation. His resistance to her will. It was all that she enjoyed. HER fantasy for more than a century. The hunter felt little in her grasp. So small and unable to stand up against her. As milk traveled down his throat as he heard her tell him to speed up. The smacking of his bum and being rocked in her laps. He drank as much and as fast as he could. He heard her moan and he knew he was pleasing her. Mommy. He did remember his plan. He wanted to attempt it. He didn't want to be some kink slave and become her thrall for the foreseeable future. Yet, he didn't want to leave her. To not see that beautiful smile and enchanting eyes, neither giving up the warm nectar from her amazing bosom. He wanted to be a baby. Her baby. That thought made him curl up in fear. He was really hers. Another side of him was happy about it. The rich milk made him feel drowsy. Elated and lightless. He felt such good things from her breast milk. All the troubles in life were numbed. He eventually switched tits as she feed him. It continued from the other. "This milk will keep you nice and full. And youthful. Not immortality, but better than growing old and decrepit. And most of all, you'll be addicted. Withdraws are a B I T C H." She said sounding quite satisfied. "Momma's baby boy." She leaned in closer. "Forever." The hunter shed some tears as he dug closer into the creature's bosom. He felt the comfort of her presence. The pat on his bum. Even in all this trouble, there was a comfort. Eventually, the stream came to an end. He belched as she shoved the pacifier back into his mouth. He began to feel the stress of the night melt away. He felt the effects of the milk still. He was feeling like a baby. He felt his Mommy pull him close and a pinch on his neck. It only lasted a few seconds. It didn't hurt. Whatever it was. Blood dripped down her lip and onto her chest. Just a drop. "I just needed a taste little one. You feed on me anyway, I think it was a fair exchange. She then licked the wound of the blood and kissed it. In a matter of seconds, it started to close into just marks. "Kisses make everything better." With a little fresh blood in her. The creature left the bed and scooped the hunter up. She felt his legs wrap around her and carried him to the crib on the other side of the room. "Time for bed. You got an adorable crib to sleep in." The hunter was laid in his crib like an unhatched egg. "Baby." She said gaining his attention. With a beautiful smile, she removed his pacifier pointed at the side of her cheek. "Give me a kiss. A little thank you for cleaning you up and setting you right." The regressed Hunter smiled and gave his new Mommy a big kiss on her cheek. She smiled widely and tittered at it. She took this chance to plant a kiss on the forehead. She laid him down and grabbed his blankets. She covered her new baby with the covers and tucked him in. She placed the pacifier back into her baby's mouth and loomed over him. She watched her newly enthralled baby fall asleep. She had a cute boy to play with. So much more fun they would have. There was more that needed to be broken and new habits ingrained into him. Such as learning to do all his messes in a diaper. She was feeling hungry again. She had dragged the two she feed on before into the living room and set them by the fire. To warm the lifeless fools up for her to feed. Hunters were always easy prey and the cutest toys.

Hi I’m new here, and this is my first attempt at ABDL fiction. Hope you like it. — Part 1 It was my 25th birthday. I was out at a bar having drinks with a group of friends, including my friend’s coworker Melissa who I had been crushing on for a couple of months. I had hoped tonight might be my chance to finally make a move, but before I got my chance, she made her move. “Hey birthday boy!” Melissa said, sitting down next to me at the bar. “Tell me, have you had your birthday spankings yet?” My mouth went dry. I had a huge kink for spanking, among other things. I had enough liquid courage in me to play it cool, though. “Not yet,” I said smiling, “but the night is young.” “Hmm… well no time like the present!” “Right here in front of everyone?” I asked. “Well.. we could go back to my place, but fair warning: if I spank you in private, it’ll have to be on your bare bottom.” My cock was rock hard by now and I could feel it staring to drip into my underwear. I had fantasized about being spanked by a woman for as long as I could remember, and had very recently fantasized in particular about being across Melissa’s knee with my pants around my ankles. I was fairly shocked that, in fact, here she was proposing just that. I couldn’t think of what to say, so just stammered with a grin, “um… that sounds pretty good to me.” She didn’t say another word. She took me firmly by the hand and led me out of the bar. The cool air hit me and snapped me out of my trance. It hit me: I was finally about to get a spanking! Melissa lived in the neighborhood so it was a short walk to her apartment. She didn’t let go of my hand the whole way. Once we reached her door, she opened the door and sent me over the threshold with a few sharp slaps to the back of my jeans saying, “Come on in, little boy, it’s time for your spanking.” Now, when she called me little boy while patting my bottom, I thought I might explode into my pants. See, besides spanking, I also have fantasies involving being treated like a little boy or a toddler. If not for the mild sting and tingle on my butt from when she had slapped me, I would have definitely thought I was dreaming. Melissa guided me to her bedroom and pulled out a chair from her vanity. Sitting down she beckoned me with a crooked finger. It may as well have been a tractor beam - I immediately walked to her side, unable to resist. From this vantage point, I had a great view of her spectacular tits, along with her waiting lap. She looked up at me smiling and said, “OK birthday boy, let’s get those pants down.” I reached for my belt buckle, but she quickly swatted my hands away, insistent on baring my bottom herself. Undoing my pants and pushing them to my ankles, Melissa then quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me across her lap. Resting her hand on my boxer-clad bottom, she said, “Wait now, I promised you a bare bottom spanking, didn’t I?” “Yes ma’am.” The words came out of my mouth reflexively. I couldn’t believe the headspace she had me in. Melissa didn’t seem to notice or mind, and instead just yanked down my underpants exposing my bare butt. “So you’re 25 today, right? I think I’ll give you 25 with my hand and another 25 with my hairbrush for good measure.” Before I could (pretend to) protest about an extra 25 spanks, she started smacking. As this was my first ever real spanking, I was surprised by how much sting she could deliver with just her palm. I squirmed a little, but mostly relished the heat in my seat as my cock throbbed against Melissa’s thighs. After 25 smacks with her hand, I felt her reach back to the vanity and I held my breath as I waited for the brush. I had fantasized for so long about a bare bottom hairbrush spanking, but now had a bit of trepidation about what it might actually feel like. I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Melissa spanked me in earnest, like she was trying to prove a point. I gasped at first, and squirmed a bit, but held still after she firmly wrapped her arm around my waist. I took my 25 smacks and soon had a blushing backside. Melissa put down the brush and caressed my stinging butt, teasing my crack with her fingertips. My dick continued throbbing and dripped readily. Patting me gently, Melissa instructed me to stand. “You took your spanking like such a good boy, I think you deserve a reward,” she said as she started to fondle me through my underwear. “Uh oh, looks like you had a little accident. Better get you out of these.” She pulled down my boxers and slid my member into her mouth in one motion. I thought I might cum right then and there. The anticipation had been so intense and now I was in ecstasy. Melissa took my cock from her mouth, stood and bent over the chair, lifting her skirt and sliding down her panties. I wasted no time stuffing her pussy with my cock. I caught a glimpse of my red backside in the mirror, which inspired me to return some of the spankings I had received to Melissa’s waiting ass. As my pink handprints appeared, I lost control and had an earthshaking orgasm. We flopped down in her bed. After we caught our breath, it wasn’t long before she was rubbing my still tingling butt, and my cock began to swell again. Melissa mounted me and rode my cock, tits bouncing, to two scream-inducing orgasms. After she had had her fill, she rolled over on her back and spread her legs. Grabbing me by the hips, she thrust my cock back into her and spanked my upturned ass mercilessly until I came again. We collapsed in a heap, and passed out as she rubbed my throbbing backside. Part 2 I fell asleep replaying the events of that night in my head again and again. That Melissa had been so keen to spank me, and her effectiveness in doing so indicated that mine was not the first bottom she had spanked. I was on cloud nine having met someone with a kinky streak. Just as I dozed off, I remembered she had called me “little boy,” and had commented that I’d had “an accident.” Could it be that Melissa was into things even kinkier thank spanking…? I woke with a start when the light hit my head. In the fog of my mild hangover, I wasn’t quite sure where I was. It slowly came back, and I grew excited as the memory of going over Melissa’s knee came back to me. As my cock stirred, I noticed some dampness. Rolling over slightly, I realized the sheets were wet all around me. Oh shit! Had I wet the bed?!? “Oh good you’re awake,” Melissa’s voice cut through my panic. “You, uh, peed the bed.” I was mortified. I jumped up, muttering and stammering. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that, that never happens, I’m so sorry, here let me clean it up, or should I just go, I’m sorry. I’ll just go…” I reached for my pants and Melissa grabbed my wrist. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.” I froze, feeling about two feet tall. “You go stand in the corner while I clean this up. You are in big trouble mister.” Her tone aroused me - I felt like a naughty three year old being punished. But I was still far too embarrassed to think anything sexy. I started walking to the corner, but Melissa hooked the waistband of my boxers saying “give me those little pee pants, I’ll put them in the wash with the sheets. You can do your corner time naked.” Compliance seemed to be my best way out of this dilemma, so I slipped them off and Melissa scooped them up. She then took me by the arm and walked me to the corner, propping me there with three sharp spanks to my bare butt. Standing in the corner, my brain still a bit foggy, I couldn’t tell what to make of the situation. I hadn’t wet the bed since I was nine years old. How could it have happened now? And I couldn’t sort out Melissa’s reaction. She seemed mad, but she wasn’t sending me away in disgust, or making me do her laundry… what did she have in mind? Behind me I could hear her stripping the bed, then rustling around in the closet, seemingly Melissa getting out some clean sheets to make the bed. After ten minutes or so, I heard from behind me, “Okay buster get over here.” I slowly turned around to find her sitting on the edge of the unmade bed wearing her silk night gown showing plenty of cleavage, her legs bare. A few things seemed to have been moved around or brought out of the closet, but all I could focus on was the hairbrush in her hand. Remembering its sting from the night before I was both excited and nervous. Melissa snapped me out of it. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” I fumbled through the some more of my earlier responses, “I’m so sorry. I swear this has never happened to me. I’m so embarrassed, please don’t tell anyone, I’m really sorry, please…” She cut me off. “I don’t have much tolerance for immaturity. I believe firmly that if you act like a baby, you need to be treated as one. “So I’m going to put you over my knee again, and this time it won’t be a little patty cake spanking like you got last night. You need to learn a good lesson.” I swear I saw a smirk run across her face. She was being stern, but Melissa was clearly enjoying this. I took it stride and retorted, “Yes ma’am.” “Good boy.” Then she pulled me forward onto her lap. My stiffening cock slid neatly between her bare thighs. She started slow and firm with her palm, clearly warming me up for something more serious. It was just before she started a strong volley with the hairbrush that I noticed what was on the floor in front of me: a tub of baby wipes, a bottle of powder, and… an open package of Super Dry Kids diapers. There was no mistaking them - I had repeatedly tried to work up the nerve to order some SDKs, but had never gone through with it. I stared at the bag… No way, I thought, it can’t be… she’s not going to… diaper me?? Just then I felt the brush connect with my bare bottom. I suddenly lost all notion of the diapers in front of me and could only focus on the barrage raining down on my backside. Even though it hurt like hell, my cock remained at attention between Melissa’s thighs. The spanking continued and I started kicking my legs a bit. Melissa quickly threw one leg over top of mine to hold me in place. She started to scold. “You hold still and take your punishment little boy. Since you can’t behave like a big boy, I’ll have to treat you like a little boy. And little boys need their bare bottoms spanked regularly. I have a feeling this is not the last time I’ll have to put you over my knee young man.” I was being brave and trying to just take whatever she had to give me. But my ass hurt like hell! Just when I thought I might start crying, the spanking stopped. Melissa took me by the shoulders and guided me to sit on her lap. She held me and rubbed my stinging bottom. I was lost in the glow of her embrace, and the feeling in my bottom. Meanwhile my cock had become rock hard and was starting to drip. Melissa took notice. Grabbing me gently, she said, “oh my, look at you. You’re about to have ANOTHER accident. We need to do something about this. Lie down in the bed.” As she shifted me off her lap, the thought came rushing back to me - the diapers. I lay back on the bed just as Melissa bent down and slid a diaper from the package. I got a fantastic view of her ass peeking out of her nightgown. Coupled with the sight of her unfolding the diaper as she approached me, it was too much. My dick throbbed wildly with anticipation, pre-cum dripping down the shaft. “Ok little one, it’s time to get you back in diapers so you don’t make anymore messes. You’re lucky I had this bag of pampers on hand.” Why DID she have a bag of pampers in her apartment?? I started to wonder but was snapped out of it quickly as she moved closer to me. “Lift that bottom,” Melissa instructed with a wide grin. I complied, and she slid the SDK under me. As I lowered my stinging bottom onto the soft padding with a distinctive crinkle, my cocked bounced wildly up and down. Melissa started pulling the diaper up between my legs, but hesitated as it brushed against my throbbing member. “Hmm… this diaper isn’t going to fit over that thing.” She produced a bottle of baby oil from beneath the bed. Squirting some into her palm, she grabbed my cock and stroked me up and down. My hips thrusted and I knew it wouldn’t take long for me to burst. Melissa seemed to know too, as she pulled the diaper up against me. “Oh my! Is mommy’s little boy going to make a big sticky mess in his diapie?” she cooed. The sensation of the padding against my cock and the crinkly plastic between my legs was too much - I groaned and shot hot ropes of cum into the diaper. Melissa looked very satisfied as she reached for some baby wipes to clean me up. With my cock wiped down, she spread powder around my crotch liberally before pulling the diaper into place and fastening the tapes tightly. She smiled broadly and patted my padded crotch. “You stay put, I’ll be right back,” she said rolling me over and slapping my diapered behind. She left the room and I finally had a moment alone with my thoughts. My wildest fantasy had just been realized. I’d been spanked, stroked and diapered by a hot stern woman. I couldn’t believe my luck that Melissa had been so forward in initiating kinky sex. And that I’d been drunk enough to wet the bed… I had nearly forgotten my humiliation from earlier. I was so puzzled by how I could have done that, and then i realized I was laying in a spot on the bare mattress that should have still been damp, but it was bone dry. Then I saw a small bowl on the night stand that seemed out of place. I peered into it to find it full of water. Looking quizzically around the room, I then saw tucked in a corner of the closet, an open bag of Goodnites bed pads. It hit me all at once: I’d been set up! To be continued…