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  1. Written with a little assistance from ai tech. Chapter 1: What do you mean choose?? Jesse My sister and I walk side by side through the too-quiet streets. I can feel Tessa’s unease. It’s always so close to the surface with her. My twin’s shoulders slump forward. She pulls her arms tight around her torso, bracing against the gust of wind that chills our bones. “Jesse, Mom’s been acting really strange lately, don’t you think?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip the way she does when she’s nervous. I nod, my own worry gnawing at me. Ever since that mysterious envelope arrived from the school, Mom has been increasingly brooding. She’s usually chipper, despite the way things have been in this country lately. It’s so unsettling to see her like this. She hasn’t been this way since Dad died. Another gust of wind carries the distant sound of machinery through the air. Down the street, construction workers remove play structures from the old elementary school’s recess yard. The building has been abandoned for ten years, since the last of us were young enough to attend primary school. The last child in the country turns eighteen next week. Tessa and I are nearly twenty. We pass the elementary school quickly and quietly, turning our heads away as the construction workers rip the last vestiges of our happy childhoods from the Earth. Once we’re clear, Tessa releases a shaky breath. I can hear the tremble in her voice as she speaks. “You know, Jess, sometimes I wish we could just marry and start families and…” Her voice trails off, and her bottom lip quivers. Marriage is forbidden. Families are impossible. The last world war ravaged our planet and our bodies. Humans have lost their ability to reproduce. Tessa will cry if I don’t say something. She always cries. “I know, Tess,” I murmur. “But, hey. At least we have each other.” We hear hurried footsteps behind us. “Jess! Tess!” We turn to see our childhood friend Nick running to catch up with us. His usually cheerful face is ashen, and his eyes hold a glint of fear. My pulse quickens. “Nick, what is it?” I ask, keeping my voice monotone for Tessa’s sake. “What? Your mom didn’t tell you?” Nick huffs, out of breath. “Tell us what?” Tessa asks. The worry in her voice tells me she’s already imagining the most catastrophic news. I put a leash on my own imagination. “About the letter the school sent home to all the parents,” Nick says. He hesitates, then looks around to ensure that we’re alone. “By national decree, all families have to choose one of their two children under the age of twenty-five to surrender to the government by the end of the week.” My heart pounds. I wouldn’t believe it, wouldn’t even consider it, if I weren’t hearing it directly from Nick himself. His father is the mayor of this desolate town, so I know Nick wouldn’t waste my time with useless rumors. “What do you mean choose?” Tessa shrieks, and then takes off, bolting for our house, while the harsh truth of our mother’s strange behavior hits me like a train. I thank Nick for the news and take my time getting home. I’ve known for some time that the world has been changing in unimaginable ways, but this seems bleak. What does the government want with us? My mind races as I try to come up with an explanation…and a solution. Somehow, I have to keep our family together. It’s what my dad would want. When I reach home, I find my mother and sister sitting at the kitchen table. Tessa is draped over my mother’s lap, sobbing inconsolably, while my mother just stares blankly into space, pain and horror etched on her face. Her eyes drift toward me as I stand in the doorway. “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” she says. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” A stronger wave of sobs rack Tessa’s slim frame. A lump forms in my throat, but I push past it. “There has to be a way out of this,” I say. “There must be something we can do.” But even as I say it, the words feel hollow and futile. I think of Dad again and wish he was here. He’d know what to do. My mother just looks away. Tessa Jesse and I head back to school the next morning. School halted during the war, so everyone’s a few grades behind, not that it even matters. There are no jobs for our generation, so there’s no pressure to hurry through high school. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even go to school, but the law requires it. The streets are as eerie and silent as ever, and my sister hardly says a word. I can tell she’s busy trying to think of a plan to save our family. That’s Jess. She always thinks she can fix everything. She should know better by now. This world sucks, and it’s going to keep sucking. We pass the old elementary school again, and I shudder with the creeps. The swing sets, slides, see-saw, jungle gym…it’s all gone. Everything I loved when I was little. Where all this playground equipment once stood, now there are large wooden crates. The construction workers have been replaced by painters who prime the school’s outer walls. I glance nervously at Jess. She just offers me a firm, reassuring smile. Like everything’s going to be okay. I offer a weaker smile in return. The high school yard is abuzz with chatter when we arrive. It seems like everyone knows about the decree. “Did you hear?” one girl whispers to another. “The Buchanan’s tried to run. They didn’t want to give up either of their sons. The police arrested Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan and took both boys.” I gasp in horror. When I turn to Jesse, I can tell she heard too, but she refuses to let the determination fade out of her eyes. It’s impossible to focus on my classes, and it’s not only me. As I glance around my first hour, I see students fidgeting and whispering when the Mr. Barris isn’t looking. As he writes on the whiteboard, Mr. Barris sighs mid-sentence. He sets his marker down and turns around. “I’m sure you all know by now that this afternoon, some of you will be taken away,” he says. “I suppose I should also tell you that, after today, this school will close. Those of you who remain will be sent to a new school—a new college of sorts.” My eyes widen. College? Those closed down years ago. I wonder if Jesse’s teacher is telling her the same news. She’s always been a stronger student than me. A guilty feeling nibbles as my conscience as I wonder which one of us our mother will choose to give away. At lunch, we sit with our friends, Nick and Lucas. Nick’s face is greener than usual, like he’s going to be sick. “What’s wrong?” I ask him. Jesse shoots me one of her pitying looks, as if I’ve asked a silly question. Nick’s hand trembles. “My dad told my brother and I his choice this morning,” he says. “He’s keeping Ethan.” Something catches in my throat. Tears blur my eyes. “Nick, I’m so sorry,” my sister says. “This is all so terrible.” Lucas, one of the most handsome guys in school, slides a hand over my sisters. “Jesse, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises. A twinge of envy passes through me. Lucas has had a crush on Jesse for as long as I can remember, and she’s not even the one who wants a boyfriend. Jesse says nothing, and I resent her silence. Why is she so distant toward him? I’d be all over him, if only he’d look at me. A terrible thought creeps into my mind, a thought from the darkest corners of my heart, but I can’t help it. I can’t help hoping that mom chooses to give up Jesse and not me.
  2. Young Marcus had woken up in a cell at the police station, with a hard headache and the urge to vomit. Surely he had taken a lot of fun the evening before, so much that he didn’t remember anything. He smiled looking around with his ajar eyes in the dark cell until an amazon police agent came to open his cell to make him get out “do you know that little like you shouldn't drink alcoholics?” the Polish man said giving him a pair of pants to change himself “You are lucky because if I could punish you you'd already be face down on my knees,” he said with a tone of voice in which transpire a bit of anger “now I bring you to the judge she will decide about you,” he said to the little 22 years old man accompanying him to exit of the police headquarters and to the service car, helping him to get in it. The car travel is been silent and quiet even because Marc's headache had turned on again because the sunlight hit his eyes making him cover them with his hand. Once they arrived at the court the policeman parked the car and helped him to get out, but since Marc made two steps he vomited everything he had in his stomach on the Polish man's shoes “Fantastic!” the amazon man commented with sarcasm before escorting the little young man into the building. “Hello Marc” Judge Lewis greeted him “Had you fun yesterday evening?” she asked with a sarcastic tone of voice “a little weak evening!” he answered with a smile “oh! I see that as usual, you make the boaster” the Amazon woman answered him with a very acid tone of voice “But this time you annoyed the wrong girls” she said “Yes! One of those girls that you have annoyed was the mayor's daughter, witch wants that don’t go smoothly. Then you have two options: the little re-education program at Saint Teresa catholic boarding school with all your minor crimes you can be condemned to two years in prison I think that any decision you will take will be good to make you learn the lesson. The next week Marcus was on a bus that carried him to Saint Teresa catholic boarding school.
  3. I have been putting together a guide based on the Diaper Dimension for a while now. Some of it is a little rough and it is by no means complete. As I have been reading the DD stories for far longer than I have been writing this guide, there are many stories that I have missed in putting in here. This will be an on-going process to add these stories and further authors who have contributed to this wonderful setting. When I started writing stories, I realized I wanted to inhabit the worlds others had already created, as they felt real and complex. While I will acknowledge that many of the stories could live in similar but still different dimensions, I noticed several similarities between many of the stories. As such, I have created this guide for anyone to use freely to create their own stories if they ever want to use part of the pre-existing lore. Due to the on-going creation of the DD, I have labeled this story as 'complete,' but as my vanilla job would like to say, it is a 'living' document. For those who don't know, this just means that the document will be submitted as a final form, but may often be updated as new information comes to light. Additionally, while it behooves me to post a link here rather than the actual information, the nature of this guide and the fact that I will still be updating it going forward, means posting it here in its entirety would be a bit of a pain. I may change my mind later, but I hope the link will work for now. https://www.wattpad.com/story/339576633-diaper-dimension-reference-guide
  4. Hi everyone! I am back from my writing slumbers and have a story that I had a dream about the other day that had somehow turned into 100+ pages. Please forgive me for not writing actively on my other stories... I have a bad habit of writing for stories and then pausing as I actively write for another. Hopefully this story doesn't put me in the writer's time out corner🪑😇 This is definitely a 'slow burn' story that sets the stage for the rest of the book and the payout may just be worth it, you'll just have to find out for yourself. *cue the evil laughter behind computer monitor* I hope you enjoy my story of warlocks, creatures and diapers as much as I have writing it and I love hearing theories and comments along the way in posting. Enjoy!💖 The Synopsis No One Asked For[but I wrote it anyways]: Wren Smith gets accepted into a 4 year international college exchange program that she had always dreamed of her whole human existence called Dragonstone School of Warlocks & Creatures located in the country of Centaurus. In her journey to a completely different world of warlocks, werewolves and vampires, she meets Nate Seastone who has unusual relationship goals, a psychopathic ex and a dark past. Things take a sinister twist as she navigates being a human in a mostly all creature and warlock school as she unlocks secrets to sinister things she didn't ask to discover between the school's history and her kind. Warnings: Dark nature content[not sure how to word that], bullying and detailed sexual scenes[smut] Does contain in later chapters: Diapers, CGL relationship, ABDL, BDSM, spanking Book of Warlocks, Creatures & Diapers : Vol I PRELUDE It’s incredulous to think that for a good few centuries, the rest of the world didn’t know the United Lands existed. The continent of Centureon, comprised of the countries of Centaurus and Rune, were stumbled upon in 1492 by Christopher Columbus, yet never spoken about in human history books because a historical warlock known as Theadore Stonewall II found him, erased his memory and sent him, his crew and his boat to North America instead. It wasn’t until the next century when people began migrating from Europe to America that Centureon lost its anonymity the warlocks and creatures wanted to keep as long as possible, yet it was inevitable that a country with millions of creatures and beautiful lands would be found eventually. From the dawn of time, warlocks, witches and creatures had always been mistreated, murdered and misunderstood that the old warlocks and creatures knew if word got out to the human race, their existence may be compromised. Little did they know, it was bound to happen that the human race would find them and try to make them close to extinct. Warlocks and creatures already lived amongst the human race all over the world, but the countries of Centureon knew about the horror stories and spread of misinformation about their kind that made the human race fear them. It was better, to the Centaurus and Rune countries, to hide for as long as they could and keep the peace within their own lands. As time went on and the United Nations and other countries found out about Rune and Centaurus, both countries were kept top secret in all countries. The United Nations wanted to hide the creatures that inhabited the lands as they thought revealing them would create mass panic and threaten the human race as it was. Warlocks and creatures didn’t want to fight, they asked for peace multiple times and the United Nations was ignorant to the possibility of creatures, witches and warlocks living peacefully among humans. Yet… these creatures already lived among them, much to the human race’s fears of inability to cohabitate that had little to no evidence to support. As the humans found out creatures were living amongst them, many altered, misinformed and over dramatized stories in newspapers released about witches, werewolves, vampire killings and abductions. These fictionally based stories spread like wildfire around the United States of America in the 1600’s and the United Nations came together and agreed that if these newfound ‘creatures’ survived any further they could threaten the human race’s very existence. Widespread panic circulated around to other countries and the whole world began fearing creatures that supposedly could be humans next door neighbors one day. The decisions were based on ignorance, fears and prejudice as the United Nations decided to invade Centaurus and Rune in 1702, historically termed in Centureon the Human Invasions of 1702, without warning, terrorizing the continent with ships docking and pillaging of its lands. At this time, the human race was much larger than all the warlocks and creatures combined. The only thing that made sense for most creatures was too either migrate or protect the land from the sudden killing, raping and torment of its innocent civilians. Many of Centaurus and Rune’s inhabitants decided to flee the country. This caused the Great Migration of Creatures in 1702 where millions of witches, warlocks and creatures as they fled the countries to live in hiding all over the world as Rune was put close to extinction within a few years. Although they had warlocks, witches and creatures, Centaurus and Rune were both peaceful lands that practiced magic to protect and help others, not to hurt as they were attempting to show the human race they should not be feared. There were always dark blood warlocks and witches who were of the evil kind, but few and far between that when armies of human troops came in with muskets, rifles, canons and unknown weapons to Centaurus and Rune, the native creatures to the lands had never seen such weapons, let alone know what they did until they were wounded or killed. Due to Centaurus’s large warlock and witch demographics, they were able to protect most of Centaurus in the 1700’s. Centaurus lost a tenth of their population and lands but quickly reclaimed their lands. Rune, however, could not protect itself as the population of warlocks was low, the magical creatures who were there were a majority of peacemakers or healers. When they attempted to ask for peace, it was quickly denied to their dismay as whole towns and villages were shocked by the merciless invaders. Villages and towns across Rune were pillaged, raped and burned down over a stretch of a few weeks time. Innocent civilians and their children were burned on stakes or hanged and those spared from the mass murdering of Rune’s population were kidnapped and put into labor camps. The rest of it’s demographics were harmless creatures without magical abilities that were slaughtered without reason. A good two-thirds of Rune’s creatures were killed from the invasion that silently spread across the country. More troops of the British and United States came over to Rune and terrorized the creatures on it’s soil along with the few witches and warlocks that remained after many years of fighting. Parts of Rune were colonized in the 1710’s by the British until the United Lands armies grew in the larger country of Centaurus and reclaimed the land with their most powerful warlocks, witches and creatures protecting Rune. After years of hearing of the pillaging, terrorizing and mass murders of Rune with two-thirds of the population either migrating or being slain, Centaurus decided to stop protecting without harming the invaders and go on the defensive to push the invaders out of their Lands. The first World War, that was unknown to most of the human race, started and ended in 1713 when the United Lands decide to fight back from Rune reclaiming what was left of its lands. In Centaurus history books, there was a distinct shift in the war and who was winning when the most powerful Centaurus and Rune warlocks and witches came together to create the Magistrate’s Army. They fought back in large numbers and reclaimed what was theirs within months of combat with the human race. Rumors got out about a group of witches and warlocks comprised of both white and dark blood magic descent that were stronger than any other type of magical beings coming together to end the suffering of the United Lands. It was unheard of for white and dark blood witches and warlocks to work together, yet this special circumstance created an alliance that warlocks and witches all over the continent talked about for centuries. The UN troops began retreating as they realized quickly that Magistrate Army was much stronger than any weapon possessed in the 1700’s. The armies couldn’t even kill a witch or warlock without putting them on the stake and burning them. News got back to the United Nations as the Magistrate Army became tremendously powerful and the US army along with the British armies were sent back home in small quantities of survivors with gruesome stories of watching warlocks, witches and creatures mercilessly terrorizing soldiers, bending swords and stopping bullets, pikes and cannon balls mid-air. The horror stories of witches and warlocks performing full moon rituals on soldiers were spread rampant along with other horrors following the war with the warlocks and creatures. The human race learning that although small in numbers, the United Lands showed they were a force to not be meddled with ever again. In 1730’s, years after the war ended, Magistrate Gildroy III the Great made a peace treaty with the United Nations and the United Lands. The United Lands agreed that migration to or from Centaurus or Rune was forbidden. Both groups agreed to keep Centaurus and Rune separated from the human race. Gildroy was able to keep sailors and migrators away from the country with his fleet of mermen and army of warlocks who protected the United Lands. The United Nations and surrounding countries were able to hide creatures for a few years from the human race, stating that newspapers of werewolf, vampires and witches were made-up stories. Although both the United Lands and United Nations tried to hide Centaurus and Rune, it was not possible anymore to keep hidden a whole country that spanned half the Atlantic ocean as a secret to the human race. After many sightings of ‘aliens’, lost ships in the Bermuda Triangle, witch trials, books written about witches and wizards, newspaper articles, police cases, tales of vampires or werewolves and other incidences in the early 1800’s the countries of Rune and Centaurus were rediscovered by the human race in newspapers around the world. The world became a huge panic where allover people were afraid from the misinformation about vampires, witches, mermen, werewolves and other creatures. The general population did not want anything to do with these creatures or to even visit Centureon in the 1800’s. The creatures that had migrated to the US and other countries who did decide to reveal themselves were segregated, taken into slavery, locked up in prisons, hung, experimented on, abducted or murdered. The whole response to any creature or warlock was of pure anger and hatred that caused a huge rift between the human race and creatures from Rune and Centaurus. Up until 1853, immigration to and from Centureon was banned for creatures and humans. During this time, millions of creatures and warlocks that had already migrated found home to many parts of North America, Asia, South America and Europe as they lived in hiding. From those in hiding, it was discovered in the mid-1800’s that so many creatures and warlocks had carried children with humans. Half-humans were at high risk as not only did the human race fear or hate them, but so did creatures. Migration was finally allowed after so many hate crimes were made against creatures or half-humans and the United States and other countries found there weren’t only a few, but millions of creatures already living amongst them that wanted to visit back home or move back to Centaurus or Rune. Little did these countries know, these creatures inhabited the world for thousands of years amongst the human race. This movement of human race acceptance was called the Creature Awakening where humans finally acknowledged the creature race and began to start accepting creatures into their cultures. Although there was still a long road ahead in progression of views and stifling racism, this was a huge push forward in peace between races. By the early 1900’s after migration to and from the United Lands was allowed in most countries, World War 1 happened and the United Nations grew a relationship with the United Lands, enlisting the Magistrate’s Army into the war. In every war following, the United Nations and United Lands worked together and slowly built trust between the two once opposing forces. Many years passed and from millions of mixings of creatures, warlocks and humans, hatred between the human race and creatures or warlocks had calmed down quite a bit, yet the racism never went away fully as it was still taught in most continents. By the end of the 1900s and early 2000’s, many programs were instated to mix the cultures of humans, creatures and warlocks. Although things have calmed down between the races, there is still a large mountain to climb in racism between creatures and humans. As time has gone on, the pendulum of hatred has swung more for the hatred of the human race, as they had almost made Rune extinct of it’s creatures and endangered trolls, pegasai, dwarfs and it’s rare magical creatures with one invasion in the 1700’s that had almost wiped out the creatures of Rune’s existence entirely. Chapter 1: Warlocks, Creatures and Humans, Oh My! Wren’s moss green eyes looked out the airplane window to the beautiful hills, valleys and mountains of Loch Valley, Centaurus of the United Lands. Her curious eyes grazed over the distant hills and valleys where she could see a flight of witches and warlocks gliding above the trees together in a pack. Wren smiled in awe and wonder, always wishing since a little girl that she could fly like a witch. She always, admittedly, envied her neighbor down the street who was half witch and had flying lessons with her dad. She ended up in a tree her first flight but Wren would have paid anyone in the world to be just like her neighbor, even if she’d ended up in a tree or with a broken arm. She frowned and looked back down to her history book of Centaurus, knowing that would never be her fate. All she ever wished growing up was to be some sort of creature, whether that had been a mermaid, witch, dwarf, gollum, fairy, vampire or even a troll. Wren just wanted to be something that wasn’t a human. Gross. That was probably the worst race to be in this day and age. As she read her history book, she couldn’t imagine how it was like as a creature to feel such fear of being kidnapped or killed for being something that’s not human. There are hundred of documented real life horror stories in America, where Wren was born, about witch trials, murders of full werewolf or vampire families, abductions and experiments on creatures. That’s only one country and the stories across the world are equally as volatile and despicable. Luckily, those things didn’t happen anymore, at least not often. There’s always some Ted Bundy who has a weird thing for creatures or witches unfortunately. Also, creatures aren’t victims, they’ve killed humans too. However, the millions of creatures and warlocks slaughtered for pure racism of creatures will always supersede the current day issues. Millions were killed at the hands of the human race in 1702 in genocide by the US and British army human invasions. Millions. Wren was disgusted by that thought alone and that her ancestors could do such things to innocent creatures. To say she hated her ancestors was an understatement at this point after traveling 10 hours on the plane and rereading the dark history of Centaurus and Rune inflicted by the human race. Wren could see why creatures and warlock have been known to be rude to humans. Lucky for Wren Smith, she decided to do an international exchange program for 4 years at Dragonstone School of Warlocks & Creatures. Maybe not so lucky... yet Wren’s deep desires to be close to warlocks and creatures ran so strong she’d put aside everything to be where she felt she belonged. Ever since Wren was a young girl, she knew that Idaho, United States was not where she belonged. It was true as everyone presumed of Idaho: all we have is cornfields and potatoes out there! Wren thought. She absolutely despised everything there and found herself bored 9 times out of 10. The one fun thing was having a neighborhood friend who was part witch. Her name was Jade who Wren went to school with. They eventually blossomed into best friends throughout the years until their friendship abruptly ended when Jade and her parents moved to Glades, Rune when the girls turned 12. Wren remembers crying for almost a month straight when Jade moved and as dramatic as that sounded, losing your best friend was a big deal as a kid. It felt like the end of the world to Wren and she had close to no friends after Jade left. Wren was always the ‘weird girl’ who had a ‘witch friend’ and Wren knew the small-minded classmates would never understand her the way Jade did. The day she moved, Wren remembered writing in her diary, “When I turn 18, I’m moving the HELL out of Idaho and going to Centaurus! Idaho can kiss my ass!!” If you’re wondering, yes Wren did, in fact, write those curse words when she was 12 and luckily her parents never read her diary… or at least she thought they didn’t. “Flight attendants, prepare for landing.” The pilot stated to the passengers and attendants. Wren sighed as she closed her book, stowing it away in her backpack. She looked to her right where a pair of eyes were glancing at Wren and she met them. A part werewolf part human woman's dark brown eyes were looking at her. Wren smiled politely to her as the woman looked forward with a small huff in annoyance. Creatures really hate humans still, huh? She was half human, where does she feel the right to judge! Wren thought to herself and frowned, looking back out the window. It was weird leaving home, the United States. Wren had never left the US, let alone to a country that hates the human race, even more so Americans. Wren didn’t think most countries liked Americans to begin with, let alone human Americans to further complicate things for her. In Centaurus, it’s a known fact humans are more susceptible to hate crimes and harassment. Creatures don’t like humans and humans don’t like creatures. That’s been a known conflict since the beginning of time. Wren knew that just maybe she was the weird human that liked creatures and wanted to be one. The best person Wren ever knew was a witch, after all. She saved Wren’s life once and Wren would never forget that day. When Wren was 11 about to turn 12, the girls were playing on the bridge in the forest near their houses. Wren jumped on the railing of the bridge and stuck her arms out, yelling, “Maybe I can fly like you Jade!” Jade’s dark brown eyes looked concerned as she tugged on the hem of Wren’s blue jeans, “Don’t be stupid, get down from there!” “I just want to be a witch like you one day, Jade. Maybe I can if I try! Don’t you remember that book we read about the girl who didn’t know she was a witch and found out by falling? Maybe that’s me!” Wren said, walking one foot in front of the other on the railing as she swayed, almost falling to the side with the river below. “Wren! Stop it! You’re scaring me and I want to have an ALIVE best friend, not a DEAD best friend!!”Jade said frantically on the bridge below Wren. “I’m going to tell on you if you don’t come down!” She stomped her foot bossily while crossing her arms. Wren smiled, knowing she was the brave, bold but stupid friend in that moment. She stood there, looking behind her one last time before deciding to get down. As she began lowering her foot, Wren’s heel somehow caught the nail of the bridges railing and it caused her balance to falter. She felt myself quickly lose gravity as her whole body fell backwards and Jade screamed, “WREN!!!” Her stomach tickled as she fell through the air. She closed her eyes as she awaited the cold water, yet time stood still and she felt nothing. Did I die? She thought as she opened her eyes and was levitating up and over to where the trees and grass was near the side of the river. She toppled onto the ground and rolled a few times. Wren got up, dusting off the dirt from her sweatshirt as Jade ran over and hugged her. “You dummy!! You almost died!” Jade said as she hugged Wren hard. “Thanks for saving me Jade, I’m so sorry!” Wren said, feeling a few tears go down her face from the stupid thing she almost did. Jade blinked at Wren as she pulled back and shook her head, “I, uh, didn’t do anything Wren.” She said, looking humbly down. Wren winked at her, “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.” Jade was quiet about her magic abilities. Her parents didn’t want anyone in their school or neighborhood to know she was a witch. Most creatures kids from Centureon were bullied and that was the main reason her family kept it hidden. It was a secret Wren only knew about because Jade flew into her tree one evening with a yelp and that was the first time Wren and Jade met when her dad ran over to our house and apologized for Jade climbing on Wren’s backyard tree to Wren’s parents. Little did her dad know that Wren was on the second floor bedroom and was looking outside when Jade struck the tree near her bedroom. It looked like it hurt, that was for sure. Wren still didn’t know to this day who hurt worse that day, Jade or the tree. The airplane glided down as Wren gasped in awe at the city below of Aeradon, Dragonstone in Centaurus. She had only read in books about how beautiful the city was with it’s ancient skyscraper castles on hills that overlooked hundreds of villages, rivers and the water to the side of the city. Wren was sad to not see dragons circling the castles like in the childhood books she read as a kid but the beauty was enough to take her breath away. The plane passed over Dragonstone’s other outskirt villages further to the edge of where the cliffs met the sea. She felt the plane hit the ground as Wren smiled, getting giddy with excitement of the new life she had just began. Wren had been waiting for her entire human life to be in Dragonstone, Centaurus, let alone to be accepted to a school in Dragonstone School of Warlocks & Creatures for a 4 year international exchange program. She frowned, remembering how sad her mom got when Wren told her. Her mom didn’t look at her and just went into her parent’s bedroom as Wren’s dad looked at her in the eyes and said, “I thought you were going to Harvard, you got accepted and the chance that people would die to have! I can’t believe you’re throwing away your life like this.” He said in disappointment, shaking his head and sighing. “Dragonstone School of Warlocks & Creatures is a much more prestigious acceptance dad. Only 4 foreign exchange students are accepted per year and they hardly ever accept a full-blood human exchange student!” Wren grumbled, crossing her arms and shaking her head, annoyed with her parents and they’re obvious disappointment. Can’t they let her have one happy moment?! “Dragonstone is a dangerous place for humans, Guinevere. You never listen to me or your mother.” Wren knew it was serious disappointment when her dad said her real name that she hated hearing. Guinevere Smith. Ugh, she hated that name, reasons why she went by Wren. Her classmates growing up couldn’t say her full name so they called her Gwen, which Wren hated even more. That’s when she read a kids book in elementary school with a witch named Wren. That’s when she told her classmates and teachers that she went by Wren. Ever since then, Guinevere had been Wren, although her parents didn’t jump on board with the name change until a few years later. Now they only used her full name when she was in trouble. Her dad stood, not having any more of this conversation. Wren’s parents and her never saw eye to eye on things like this. They always warned her of creatures and magical beings, stating that they were malicious and hated humans. They never knew Wren’s best friend growing up was a witch, and she didn’t think she’d ever tell them. The more they warned me growing up about Centaurus and Rune, the more Wren knew she had to visit it to see herself. For 18 years Wren grew more and more curious, just wanting to prove her parents wrong about creatures and warlocks. Her best friend and her dad were creatures and she would not allow a stigma decide her own opinions. Wren finally was able to stand after ten minutes of waiting for the passengers to file out of the plane. She began to gather her items from the overhead compartment. Unfortunately, Wren was short and small framed that it didn’t help when she reached for her suitcase, struggling to grasp it. She stood on her tippy toes and grunted as she grabbed her suitcase handle and pulled, the momentum of her pull swinging Wren to the left a bit as she accidentally nudged the person directly behind her. The person muttered, “Fucking rude humans.” “Um, sorry.” Wren looked back at the middle aged warlock man behind her who had a satin black cloak and a dark brown disheveled pointed hat on. She blinked back her awe of being near a warlock and walked forward to out of the plane through customs and baggage claim as she tried to shake off the odd exchange. “Guinevere Marie Smith, what’s your purpose here and how long is your stay?” The merman customs officer asked as his light sea blue eyes shifted to Wren’s eyes, studying in curiosity. Wren pulled out her file from her backpack that her international counselor told her to show to customs, “I’m an international exchange student for Dragonstone School of Warlocks & Creatures and will be here for 4 years.” She said a touch boastfully, handing him her files. He looked them over with an annoyed glance and handed them back to her with her passport, waiving Wren away, “Next.” Wren shoved her file back into her backpack and grabbed her luggage, shaking off his rudeness as she walked between throngs of people. She tried not to glance at the different creatures of mermen, trolls, gollums, warlocks, witches, vampires, dwarves, fairies and werewolves that threaded through the area or gawk too long. A lot of people looked like humans or half-humans that walked past as she went to the outside to find the shuttle to the train. A hour passed filled with wrong turns and Wren finally found a train car that directly took her to Dragonstone School of Warlocks & Creatures. She stowed her items away and sat as someone poked their head into the car, “Do you mind if I share a car with you? It’s kind of full everywhere else.” Wren nodded with a smile, meeting a set of light blue eyes that looked human. She was a bit relieved that she was human, given that all Wren’s other encounters were rude with anyone who wasn’t also human. That was becoming more apparent the more minutes she spent in Centaurus. As the girl was putting away her items overhead, another knock sounded and a large guy who had to duck into the car peaked in, “Can we join you? If there’s room, uh, of course.” His eyes were a light yellow and his skin was a slight tint of green with bumps over his arms. He was part troll from what Wren could tell but very polite with a thick Scottish accent. “Of course.” Wren tried to give a friendly nod to the seats in front of her as he ducked to get inside and helped the other human girl with her items overhead. A smaller fairy girl, about Wren’s height, with light glowing skin came inside behind him. She had light pink almost white, long wavy hair and quietly trotted behind the half troll guy as he helped her with her luggage storage too. He sat down on the farthest corner from Wren and the fairy girl sat next to Wren. A floral scent reached Wren’s nostrils and she smiled in nostalgia of going through gardening shops as a kid with her mother. There's an awkward silence in the train car until the half troll spoke, “My names Frederick Ploffploof. Half-troll if anyone’s wondering, first year and from Luss, Scotland. Nice to meet everyone.” He says with a deep voice and heavy accent, awkwardly looking between the three girls who are silent. He has a humor about him when he talks that Wren almost wants to giggle at but decided not to as she didn’t want to come across as a ‘fucking rude human’ again. The human girl across from Wren went next, “Hi, I’m Olivia Appleton, from Virginia, the States. First year, human.” The fairy girl spoke with a bubbly voice, “Hai hai! I’m Pixie Lightwood and I’m a fairy from Glowfield, Centaurus and second year.” A lot of fairies came from Glowfield or suburbs surrounding, Wren was going to guess that but didn’t want to say it or presume anything. Wren smiled, trying to be friendly and hopefully not weird by how giddy she was to meet others, especially who were creatures, “Wren Smith. First year, human unfortunately as well.” The group laughs as Wren spoke and she continued, “From Idaho, the States.” “Against most judgements cast against humans, I quite prefer them over witches any day.” Pixie said as she touched Wren’s arm in a friendly nudge and Wren looked down at the gentle touch that glistened after her hand left Wren’s skin. “Oops! I haven’t had that happen before besides in my community, I’m so sorry!” Pixie said, trying to wipe off the glisten and light glitter that was on Wren’s skin from her touch, yet, when she tried to wipe it off it caused even more glitter. Frederick rumbled in a laugh with Olivia as Wren tried dusting off the literal fairy dust, “It’s fine I got it! No worries.” Wren giggled with Pixie as she met her light pink and slightly yellow-green flecked eyes that glowed to Wren. She paused, “You said that doesn’t happen often?” “No, I mean, only to other fairies or pure people. If you're full human, that means I can trust you is all.” Pure? What did that mean? Wren thought. “I wouldn’t say I’m pure, maybe just dumb. Also, I’m for sure full human.” Wren says with a last giggle as she dusts off the glitter that doesn’t seem to go away. If she wasn’t human, she’d know for certain by this point in her life. She could not even count how many spells and potions she’s tried to cast in her life. Also, not to mention how many times she’s ran and jumped with a broomstick, only to face plant completely. If she were a fairy and could fly, Wren would have by now. She’s 100% human, which was unfortunate to Wren to say the least. Wren chalked it up to maybe that she was ‘pure’… whatever that meant. Olivia squeals from across from Wren, “Touch me next! I want to know!” “Me too!” Frederick rumbles as he sticks out his arm with Olivia and the group all laughs in the train car together. Pixie touches Olivia and Frederick and nothing happens. “Isn’t ‘purity’ like a virginity thing?” Frederick asks in his thick accent to Pixie. The train finally begins moving as it seems the train filled fully and students are walking in the hallways trying to find seats still. Wren blushes for a moment, hoping no one can see as she felt called out. Luckily, Pixie’s answer comes to her rescue. Pixie begins laughing loudly and shaking her head as her eyes are watery from laughing when she calms down, “No, purity is by-“ Someone open the car door and cuts Pixie off, “Excuse me, sorry to bother but-“ A very tall, handsome human-looking man with medium to long copper brown hair pushed back but falling carelessly to the side of his head enters the car. His sea blue eyes meet Wren’s and she almost drops her jaw and drools by how gorgeous he is. He was one of the most attractive men Wren had ever laid eyes on from his strong jawline down to his biceps and muscles carved through his black long sleeve shirt he war wearing. Why was Wren so suddenly flustered as he locked eyes with her? She had never felt so off-put by a simple question. Wren already assumed he was so far out of her league that she kept her mouth closed as his eyes left Wren’s and looked around the car, seeing it was full. Frederick took two seats easily and the other 3 seats were taken by the girls. Wren wished it was a six seat car to invite this mysterious man inside. Wren gulped, knowing that a beautiful fairy was next to her and another attractive girl sat across her way. Wren looked with a fleck of jealousy to Olivia who had light brown, long hair and beautiful blue eyes. In comparison, Wren had long dark brown, almost black hair and moss green eyes that she always felt she looked so plain and never anything special. She couldn’t help feeling like she was but a speck in the sea of women in that moment. She never even had a love interest before, yet for some reason this random beautiful man shows up and she was instantly into him. Never had she ever gotten so flustered by 6 words. God help her. “It looks like this car’s full, maybe next one.” He murmured to the person behind him in his slight Centaurus accent. He looked back over to the group and somehow his beautiful sea blue eyes fell to Wren instead of anyone else in the car, as if she were the only one inside it, “Sorry again.” He nodded to the rest of the group with a charming smile and closed the door. Wren blushed down at her hands, feeling dumb that she just stared at him without responding once, how could she be so stupid! That’s how Wren successfully doesn’t get a boyfriend. It wasn’t like she was looking to have one these next four years but she wouldn’t have been against having one if it were with someone as attractive as him. “Who was that fine piece of man?” Olivia blurted after he left and they all burst out laughing. “Looks can be deceiving, trolls are much better specimens of men just so you ladies know.” Frederick spoke and paused for a moment as he sighed, “Gentle giants as some would say.” He straightened out his shirts as they all laughed at his gentle giant comment. Pixie stopped laughing, the only second year among them, and said, “That’s Nate Seastone. I’m not sure if he’s single though, last year he was with one of the Sinister Twins which is, honestly, a huge red flag.” Olivia crossed her arms, “Bummer, he was hot.” Wren gulped, not saying anything as she now knew she wasn’t the only one who had a thing for him. “Who’s the ‘Sinister Twins’?” Wren asked, looking to Pixie. Pixie shook her head, blinking back a serious flicker in her eyes that Wren caught, looking down, “Sorry, I just don’t want to spread anything about them or gossip. They are just not good witches and I suggest steering clear of them. That’s all I’ll say.” An awkward silence took over the car as she said not good witches. Wasn’t it illegal to us magic to harm others? Wren thought to herself, hearing that Dragonstone kicked out people for that. She thought she was going to a safe school, not a we’ll-sweep-things-under-the-table type of school. Wren gulped, looking out the window as the train went over the edge of the cliffs that looked out to the sea. Her mind couldn’t help but wonder if she made the right decision going to Dragonstone School of Warlocks & Creatures considering she was not, in fact, a warlock nor creature and was getting the impression humans really didn’t belong there.
  5. I'm looking for someone to play the dominant Amazon CEO, preferably female. Message me if you're interested. I wake up frantically when I realize I've overslept. I quickly start making coffee and getting dressed for my job as an assistant to a wealthy and powerful CEO. I haven't been working there long, just shy of 5 months. I hear they go through a lot of assistants and after 5 months I see why. The CEO is hard to work for. I grab my coffee and run out the door. I don't live far so I walk to work since I don't have transportation. As I rush down the sidewalk I can see other Amazons either rushing to work or just going out for a walk with their forever babies otherwise known as Littles. I do spot one Betweener walking alongside an Amazon woman, I can see a sagging diaper poking out beneath her dress. Poor thing looks mortified. I never understood the reasoning of adopting Littles or Betweeners. I never had that drive to do it. I don't even remember if my boss has a Little or not. I finally get in the office and at my desk right before the boss quickly walks passed my desk to their office and signaling me to follow. After my morning meeting with them about what's going on for the day and about making schedules with a few clients, one being a very big client, I get to work on it among my other duties.
  6. 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
  7. 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.
  8. 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.
  9. Hello everyone! This is the first part of my story. I apologize for any mistakes but this is the first time I'm writing something, and English is not my first language. So don't judge me too harshly. That said, any criticism is welcome, I want to improve my writing. Tell me if you want the story to go on, I have a couple more chapters ready ? Enjoy! Chapter 1 The Rapture The air in the night was cold, but Jenny didn’t mind. She liked going running late in the night, when the city was almost deserted. It gave her the time to really think about her life. The 25 beautiful blonde lawyer was on a road to greatness. The legal studio she had inherited from her retired father was going to assure her success and wealth for her entire life, and the shunning look she possessed would guarantee her a plethora of friends and lovers. Yeah life was good, she thought closing her eyes and letting the fresh air fill her lungs and the endorphins run in her blood. She was running through the city park when a strange sensation hit her. She couldn’t explain why, her skin started tingling and she felt an awkward thrill running up her spine. Slowing her pace she noticed something else was off, the tall buildings of the city seemed strange when she looked at them. They seemed… flickering and shifting. Confused, she stopped running and leaned over a tree to rest, but when she tried to touch the tree she noticed that it was…transparent?! “ Apparently I ran too much and now I’m hallucinating”, she thought, taking deep breaths to calm down. Then a ringing noise started to fill her ears, at first she heard it on the background, then it grew stronger and stronger until it became deafening. She fell on her knees covering her ears, but the sound seemed to pierce right through. “Subject locked. Initiating rapture procedure….” A metallic, cold voice announced from a non distinct point in front of her, but the park was deserted. Suddenly she was blinded by a flash of white light. She had barely the time to open her mouth to scream, then everything went black. …………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Jenny slowly regained consciousness, she was lying on a soft surface, her eyes were still closed, but she could sense the absence of light in the room around her. “That’s it, I must have slept through my evening training”, she thought smiling to herself “I’m really getting lazy over time…”. Then she noticed something was inside her mouth, a rubber object that filled almost all of it. Her muscles snapped as she immediately jumped to her feet. “What the hell? What is this thing?” She removed the object to better look at it. Due to her being still half asleep and the room being dimly lit, she took a few moments to properly identify it. It was a large pacifier, and was attached with a clasp and a plastic chain to her t-shirt. Her t-shirt?! She didn’t even remember having a shirt like that! it was pink - she hated pink- decorated with unicorns, and didn’t even reach past her bellybutton. “That’s messed up even for a dream”, then she noticed the bulk between her legs. Wrapped around her waist was a large white undergarment, It looked like a...diaper?! But it was way bigger than normal and so thick her legs were spread so wide apart she couldn’t stand and walk properly. Jenny panicked and started running -well, waddling- in the dark without any destination, her bare feet sinking in the soft surface of the mattress. She just wanted out, she didn’t know where she was but she wanted out of there. She barely made three steps when she suddenly hit a solid surface, falling onto the mattress. High wooden bars raised well over her head. She tried shaking them, but they didn’t even move, she tried to jump to reach the top, but to no use, the bars were simply too tall. Suddenly, looking through she became aware of her surroundings. She was standing in a large room, lit by only a tepid blue nightlight placed on the ceiling. Inside she saw what seemed like twenty enormous cribs, the bars raising high to prevent the occupants from escaping, only 2 of them were occupied, small immobile silhouettes inside indicated that whoever was kept inside them, was sound asleep. “What the hell is going on?! Help!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. She was scared and confused, one moment ago she was running in the park! This seemed like a nightmare. That was the moment when a door behind her opened and the room was flooded with solar light. The figure that opened the room was enormous, and Jenny couldn’t help letting a little spurt of urine into her diaper. She looked like a woman but she was more than 3 times the height of a normal person, she was overall slim but a little of muscles showed up on her arms, her red hair tied in a ponytail. She was wearing a white gown, like the one the nurses use to wear in the hospitals, embroidered to it was written in dark red letters “CrossDimension LittleStore”. The woman smiled approaching jenny’s crib. “Well hello honey! Looks like this sweet girl finally decided to wake up!” Jenny was terrified, but not entirely surprised, she had heard about them. Amazons. They lived in another dimension, and they had recently established some commercial relationship with their world. But it she had never seen one in person, the effect was utterly intimidating even though the girl in front of her was probably 23, way younger than her. “Where am I? What’s going on here?” “Well sweetie, you are so lucky! You have been chosen for our adoption program… There are so many littles like you that need someone to care for them. And there are a lot of Bigs in our dimension who are prepared to pay good money to adopt one of you. I promise everything will be alright, we just need to complete the last few steps in the inclusion process, and then you’ll be able to find a Mommy or a Daddy who will love and provide for you forever and ever!” cooed the nurse. “What?!” Jenny was shocked, her eyes wide open in horror “Adopted!? Like some kind of baby? Forget it! You are straight up crazy! Take me home right now! I swear I’ll call my father…” The nurse smiled condescendly “All of you dimension 6 littles are so feisty! I love it! Some of these days I might adopt one of you. Now come here, we have looots of things to do” “Let me go!!” Jenny screamed as the nurse lifted her by the armpits and picked her up. She was so fast and so strong… Jenny tried punching, screaming and kicking, but the giant seemed to barely feel it. She was carried in another room, this one had big windows and was brightly coloured. The walls were painted in blue, yellow and pink, plastic letters attached to the walls spelling “An adopted baby is a happy baby”, toys were scattered on the floor. It seemed like a daycare play area. Part of the room was occupied with a set of changing tables, they were enormous! The opposite part was encircled by what it seemed like a tall mesh wall that delimited a wide area where, to jenny’s horror, 10 other people like her -littles- dressed in diapers and baby clothes were sitting quietly, playing with rattles and other baby toys in a dilatory way. Some of them had pacifiers in their mouths. Jenny could see that one of two of them had red eyes, like if they had been crying their eyes out in the last few hours, the expression that Jenny red in their faces was clear : defeat. but the thing jenny noticed most, was that everyone of them had a leather collar -like the ones that were used on pets- tied to their neck, with shiny metal tags dangling, some of them wore a little bell attached to the collar too. The screaming woman was carried through the room and sat on one of the changing tables. Another nurse approached them, this one seemed a little older than the red haired one – Jenny would have guessed she was her age- her hair was black. “My my, we got another screamer here?” “Seems like it, but I will give her one more opportunity, after all I’m not THAT unreasonable.”- smiled the red haired nurse. Her tone of voice was mocking, and it infuriated Jenny even more. “Sweetie, I know this is all new and confusing to you, but you have to understand that this behaviour is not allowed in here. Littles are supposed to stay quiet, see how well the other littles are behaving? Show me that what a good girl you are and calm down for me, ok honey?” Jenny was on the verge of tears, but she kept her voice steady when she spat on the girl’s face and screamed “Fuck you! Put me down THIS INSTANT, YOU BITCH!” The two nurses smiled at each other. “Well” said the red headed wiping the spit off her face “looks like a mild attitude adjustment won’t hurt before we find yourself a mommy” With that, she swept the little girl on her knees, with a fluid move tore away her diaper and without saying anything, started raining down blows on her naked butt. Jenny was shocked how easily she had been manhandled by the giant nurse. The pain caught her by surprise, it was unbearable. She started thrashing her legs and arms, trying to get away, but not to avail, the giant held her steady face down with one hand pressed on her back, while striking her with the other. The spanking continued for what it seemed like an eternity, at the end of it Jenny was a blubbering mess, her nose running and her eyes red like she had no more tears left. “Please -sniff- stop… No more….” “You hear it Martha? Looks like this little girl is giving us orders…. She still has to understand that “WE” -THWACK!, “ARE” THWACK!, “THE” THWACK!, “ONES” THWACK!, “WHO” THWACK!, “MAKE” THWACK!, “THE” THWACK!, “RULES” THWACK! Each of her words was underlined with a hard spank on the little girl’s already blistering bottom. Jenny screamed in pain, she felt like her ass was on fire. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the nurse had spilled some of her blood during the spanking. She was lifted once again into the air facing the red headed girl. She could barely meet her gaze, her bottom hurting so much it was difficult even to think. “So are you gonna behave and be a good little for me honey? Or do you want nurse Lilith to resume the spanking?” “NO PLEASE! I’ll be good” “Very good” “Now we have to replace that diaper of yours don’t we? Our little girl got it ruined during her wittle tantrum” Smiled the nurse. “But since you were such a bad girl I think we will need to switch to the crawlers diapers sweetie, at least until I’m convinced you’ll behave for me. Can you say that sweetie?” “I- I- I’ll b-behave for nurse L-Lilith” blubbered Jenny through tears while being laid on the changing table, her legs lifted and her private areas wiped with a moist tissue. Jenny covered her face with her hands, it was so embarrassing having these two younger ladies seeing her naked. She felt totally dehumanized and humiliated. “Very good honey, I knew you were smart enough not to cross me again” nurse Lilith smiled, as she finished to wipe her, then she produced an enormous purple diaper, it had four tabs instead of the classic two, the waistband was decorated with teddy bears and pacifiers. Jenny suppressed another set of sobs as she watched the ominous garment being brought near her and sealed around her waist. The diaper covered her entire belly over her bellybutton, arriving event to touch her ribs. And it was so thick she couldn’t even close her legs enough to walk! When nurse Lilith was finished with her she tried to stand on the changing table, she barely managed, the diaper didn’t allow her to fully straighten her legs, and when she tried to take a step forward, she immediately fell on her padded behind on the frame of the changing table. “This is too thick! I can’t even walk with this thing on!” she cried. “Uh, Uh honey. Littles speak only when the adults say so. Especially bad girls like you. I was thinking that since we are here, it’s better to sort the collar thing out.” After hearing that Jenny saw the other nurse -Martha, the black haired one- approaching holding what it seemed to be one of the pet-like collars the other littles inside the playpen wore. She started to crawl backwards, away from the her, but her arms were blocked by nurse Lilith who smiled. “It’s ok sweetie. Little playthings such as you need their collars to be safe. So that everyone will know that you belong to you mommy and no one can steal you away from her!” “What?! Belong?! I’m not a pet or a plaything! Please…” But as the red haired nurse held her arms tight and prevented her from struggling, Nurse Martha sealed the collar around her neck with a “Click”. The collar wasn’t too tight, but Jenny could feel it being there, a permanent reminder of her loss of freedom and independence. In front of the collar dangled a silver tag which spelled “Baby Girl” and then there was a space left blank. When the nurses released their grip, Jenny’s hands went to the collar, trying to pry it open, but despite looking like a leather collar, it felt like steel on jenny’s hands. The poor girl tried everything to get that damned thing off, but tot to avail, under the amused look of the nurses. “Why are you doing this to me? I’m a person! I’m an adult goddammit! I don’t need diapers!” Jenny started panicking again, and after trying to remove her collar, her hands went to the tabs of her diaper. She tried peel the adhesive tabs off, but they were firmly attached to the diaper. Then she tried to tear the fabric, but the material was simply too resistant. “You can try all you want baby. But the collar and the diapers are little-proofed. They only way you can take them off is if an adult decides so.” “That’s impossible! How strong is this diaper?! I can’t…” “…And now I think our little girl has earned herself some quiet time for speaking to adults without permission.” Said nurse Lilith, pushing a rubber pacifier inside Jenny’s mouth. Caught by surprise, Jenny immediately tried to spit the rubber teat out, but the giant woman held it pressed against her. Then she flicked the ring of the pacifier, and the rubber teat started suddenly inflating, filling Jenny’s mouth and lowering her tongue, effectively silencing her attempts to speak or cry. “Mhhpph? MHHPPPHHH!!!” “There. Much better. It’s common knowledge that littles should be seen, and not heard. You’ll earn your tongue back if you’re a good girl.” Said Nurse Lilith patting Jenny’s head “But I personally like seeing you like this, with a thick diaper that paci and the collar you are the perfect little. You’re so precious I could eat you up!” “Mhhhhhphh, mhhph…” Jenny tried to pull the pacifier out but the expanded nipple inside her mouth prevented her from doing so. Frustrated, she started banging her feet on the changing table’s surface. “Speaking of eating, I guess baby Jenny hasn’t had her breakfast yet, and it’s better to put her on the same schedule as the other littles. We can’t show favouritism now, can’t we?” cooed nurse Lilith carrying the little girl, now dressed in only her thick diaper, to another room. This room looked like an enormous kitchen, there was an oven, a cooker and two fridges. A row of 10 highchairs were lined up against a wall, and the rest of the room was occupied with little-sized plastic coloured tables and chairs. It looked like a daycare lunch area. Nurse Lilith carried the little girl straight to one of the Highchairs, lowered her in, then safely strapped her body with a five point harness before locking the tray back in place. Then she brought near the highchair what looked like an IV stand with a big recipient filled with a semi liquid greyish goop. It was the most unappetizing thing Jenny had ever seen. Still she wondered how was supposed to eat that mush from her highchair and with that diabolical pacifier still in her mouth. The answer was not long in coming. Nurse Lilith produced a plastic tube and attached one end to jenny’s pacifier, and the other end to the bottom of the recipient. Jenny’s eyes widened with horror. She frantically shook her head, pleading with her eyes and emitting muffled noises to stop the nurse, who in return smiled. “We often feed our little charges ourselves, but since I don’t want to hear another word from your pottymouth for the rest of the morning, I’m putting you into the auto-feeder. And since you have been a very bad girl, I’ve added some laxatives to the mixture.” “Mhph? Mhhhhhphhh!!” “See you in half an hour little one, scream if you need me” winked Nurse Lilith flipping a switch attached to the goop-filled recipient. Immediately Jenny’s mouth was filled with a semi-liquid, sweet-flavoured substance that she had no choice but to swallow. Her tongue was kept down by the rubber teat, and the edge of the pacifier was directly pointing at her throat, making it impossible for her to do anything but swallow to avoid chocking. Jenny thrashed into the highchair, shaking her head, pounding her little fists and twitching on the bottom of her huge crinkling diaper, as the feeding mercilessly continued.
  10. Today is Friday. Friday is the day that I magically switch from being a high powered Big Girl Angelise to being Baby Angelise and have to obey Daddy for the whole weekend until I go back to Big Girl life again. This weekend started out like all the other weekends with Daddy. I went straight to Daddy’s house after work and as soon as I stepped in the garage I had to take off all my Big Girl clothes and go find Daddy, give him a kiss and let him turn me into his Baby Angelise. Today was more than the usual work crazy and Daddy has learned my stress signs. Daddy saw my face and immediately went to start a bubble bath. When he came back from the bathroom he just pointed to the floor by his feet which was my signal that I can kneel and suck Daddy’s lollipop as much as I need to leave my Big Girl worries behind and be Daddy’s little girl. After several minutes Daddy had his release and I was ready to play in my bubble bath and have the rest of my stress melt away. Daddy says this is his favorite part of Friday when he gets to watch his Big Girl transform into his baby. Daddy got me from the bath and dried me off. Daddy had me climb up on the changing table and put lotion all over. That’s one of MY favorite parts of the day. I knew something was up when Daddy didn’t diaper me right away though. Even when I’m a Big Girl and not at Daddy’s house, Daddy still micromanages me and my body and Daddy knew I hadn’t gone potty for a few days. I told Daddy it didn’t matter because I felt fine but DADDY wouldn't listen. When I saw Daddy reach for the suppository jar with the GIANT suppositories I panicked and kicked at Daddy to make him stop. Every little girl knows you don’t EVER kick Daddy no matter what! Daddy grabbed my ankles with one hand and grabbed that nasty wooden spoon he keeps nearby the changing table and started peppering my bottom with the nasty instrument of torture. I began to yell at Daddy, “NO Daddy NO!!” And Daddy did something he’s never done before… he stopped spanking immediately. I then told Daddy I was so sorry for kicking him. Daddy didn’t respond but just proceeded to force my pacifier into my mouth and fasten it around my head rendering me literally speechless. Now I began to cry in earnest as Daddy’s Step 2 plan was to secure mittens on to my hands so I was completely helpless to stop Daddy. He then put his favorite pink fuzzy restraints on my ankles to prevent me from kicking him again or even walking. All I could do is cry like a helpless little baby which is what I am for the next 72 hours. Daddy told me how disappointed he was in me and he was doing everything for my own good. Once I was secured and I couldn’t speak, Daddy picked up the wooden spoon again and began spanking even harder than before. I was crying in earnest now mumbling how sorry I was and begging Daddy to stop. Daddy ignored all my protests and continued to spank my bottom until it was cherry red all over. Daddy finally put down the poon when he was satisfied that I learned my lesson and reached for the suppository jar again. I just shook my head NO over and over but Daddy didn’t even seem to notice! Daddy took 2 GIANT ice cold suppositories out of the jar and showed them to me. He told me that since I couldn't go the way Big Girls can, that he was going to help me so I wouldn’t get a tummy ache. Daddy proceeded to insert the suppositories one by one. Daddy said only good girls get lube but since I was a bad girl I had to take them plain. To make sure they were all the way in so they would do the most good, Daddy then took the handle to the wooden spoon and proceeded to push those horrible bullets all the way up as far as they would go. I was still crying over the pain and humiliation but once again, Daddy didn’t deem to care about my plight. He then flipped the spoon around and began to spank my bottom hole over and over again saying little girls who don’t mind their daddies and say NO get spankings and sore bottom holes all weekend. I could not stop crying now and was a blubbering mess. Daddy covered me in Baby cream which helped with my pain and put a stuffer in and wrapped me in a SUPER thick diaper which I thought was odd but I learned Daddy is in no mood for questions. Finally, Daddy finished and let me get down on the floor. I had to follow Daddy to the kitchen on my hands and knees because Daddy left my restraints on where he handed me my bottle of juice. Daddy told me I needed to finish it all in 20 minutes otherwise I would get another spanking and he was afraid I would become dehydrated from all the crying. Daddy sent me into my nursery to finish my bottle and told me I could play. I didn’t want to play. I was so wound up from my spanking and all the crying that all I wanted was to relax and have cummies. Now I had frustration to add to my night because Daddy doesn’t EVER let bad little girls have cummies. I thought about humping my giant teddy but I knew Daddy would not hesitate to spank me on my bottom hole again if he caught me. I tried to make the best of it and distracted myself with one of my picture books while I finished my juice bottle. All of a sudden I felt my tummy rumble and it wasn’t because I was hungry. UGHHH…. I felt the biggest cramp and doubled over on my knees until it passed. Now, I began to panic. I crawled as fast as I could to the bathroom. Relief spread through me when I reached for the handle only to send me into a panic again because it was LOCKED! OMG…. another cramp hit just as I reached the knob. Now I began crying again as I banged on the door in frustration. Daddy came running from all the noise and bent down and asked me what happened. I told Daddy, “ I hafta use the potty! Its anmergency!” Daddy just patted me on the head and said, “Babygirl, you’re too little for the potty now. There is no more Big Girl potty for you. You have an extra thick diaper on and plastic baby panties. You potty in your diapers all the time now for EVERYTHING.” I just kept shaking my head and crying hard. Daddy told me, “ The sooner you accept that you’re a Baby girl the easier it will be for you. Say what you are.” I just kept shaking my head in denial. Daddy squatted down in front of me and didn’t even appear angry but said again, “Say what you are out loud.” Knowing Daddy was not going to back down until my humiliation was complete, I said ” I’m a 3 year old peepee princess who can’t control her peepees and needs to be in diapers and plastic panties 24/7 now.” Just as I finished saying it a loud sound came from my diaper and I felt myself pooping into my diaper. Daddy just laughed and said, “ Well, I guess you’re the peepee and poopy princess now and forever. There’s no more Big Girl potty for you again. You’re going to stay in diapers 24/7 because you can’t control when you need to peepee and poopy so Daddy has to keep you in diapers all the time.” I began to cry from the humiliation and the truth of what Daddy said. Daddy reached out to my diaper and began to rub the front of my plastic panties and diaper as I continued to poop. Daddy’s touch ignited my frustration of not having cummies yet and he knew what he was doing. Daddy wants me to get used to being in dirty diapers and started only letting me cum in my diapers a few weeks ago. I am so disgusted with myself right now but the call to pleasure is overriding my humiliation as Daddy continues to rub me through my filthy diaper and whisper in my ear that I’m such a good girl for using my diapers like a baby should. The only sounds are the crinkling from the plastic panties, the rustling diaper and me pooping again into an already full diaper. Daddy continues to rub the mess all over me now. When he knows my humiliation is complete and he is satisfied, he gives me the order to cum. Daddy leaves his hand near my clit and feels the hot wetness from my cummies flow into my diaper. Daddy stops patting my diaper now and leans over the back of me. I think he is checking my diaper but then I hear his zipper. Daddy pulls back my plastic panties and diaper and takes a long piss into the back of my diaper. His hot piss reignites the pungent odor of the poop already saturating my diaper. When daddy is done he makes sure the diaper is still secured and tells me to go play in the nursery. Since I was such a bad little girl earlier, I need to stay in my filthy diaper to remind me that Daddy makes all of the decisions as he is the Daddy and I’m the baby girl. Daddy then gives me permission to have more cummies in my dirty diaper. We both know he is reinforcing my helplessness and his Dominance. I thank Daddy by licking his lollipop until his release again and crawl off to hump my giant Teddy waiting for me in the nursery. It’s a great thing that Teddy won’t mind my stinky diaper. That’s why he is my Bestest friend! THE END
  11. 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.
  12. 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...
  13. (Hi! I would like resume this roleplay keeping tones and the tags of the first part. Is someone interested?) Samuel is a spolit and rude 10 years old boy, whom his mother can not longer ménage. One afternoon in which he come home during school hours accompanied by a police man, because he was accused of stealing a videogame, his mother decided that it’s too mutch. Then she search someone who give her some advice about how to correct her mistakes in the boy’s education. Some hours after nunny Alexandra responds to their ad proposing a particular educational system. (I'd like play the role of Samuel, I can play nanny Alexandra role too if you want, the role play start with Samuel who is accompanied by a policeman in front of the door of his house. Please don't write short answer but be descriptive) P.S.
  14. Here's a short story I've been occasionally working on for a couple of months now. Please let me know what you think. ----- The future was not looking great for Hannah. She was 4 weeks into her first term of college and was already failing three of her four classes, with the fourth hanging on by a mere three percent. She knew she was in trouble but just couldn't find the motivation to go to class or do her homework. She tried researching online to see what she could do to get herself motivated, but often she lacked the follow-through to actually follow the guides. While making her way through the dining hall after lunch, Hannah came across a poster that caught her eye. "Failing your classes?" the large title read. Just below that in a smaller font was "Need help finding motivation? Need a helping hand to help keep you going? Call the number below for help!". At the bottom of the page was a phone number. Knowing that she was running our of time and options, Hannah took a photo of the number and went back to her dorm. When Hannah arrived back at her dorm she was the only one home. Her two other suite-mates must have been eating lunch or at class. Hannah's relationship with them was fairly normal. She wouldn't really consider them friends, but they all got along and could maintain conversation with one-another. After going into her room and closing the door Hannah called the number from the poster. After a few moments of ringing a woman answered, sounding not much older than Hannah herself. "Hello, Christa speaking." The woman said. "Hello! I'm Hannah. I'm calling about the poster at Henshaw University." Hannah responded, a little nervous. "I see. Are you looking for assistance with passing your classes?" "Yes, I am. It's my first term of college and I'm failing almost all of my classes. I just can't seem to force myself to want to pass." "That's perfectly normal for someone like you. College is a big adjustment and some people just need a little extra help getting their feet on the ground. What do you say we meet in person at the Henshaw dining hall in a couple of hours and talk a bit more in person?" "That sounds great! I get out of class at 3:00pm and can meet you right after." "Alright Hannah, I'll see you then. Bye bye." Christa said has she hung up. ----- Hannah was nervous all throughout her 2:00pm U.S. history lecture. She was having trouble paying attention most of the time, and when she actually tried she was so lost that it almost wasn't worth it. Once the class was over Hannah made her way to the dining hall, having absorbed nothing. When she arrived at the dinning hall she spotted a tall brunette woman standing right outside the cafeteria. The woman was wearing business casual clothing along with short heals, giving her an almost intimidating look. Hannah's gut told her that it was Christa. 'Hello. Are you Christa?" Hannah asked as she approached the woman. "Why yes, I am. You must be Hannah. It's nice to meet you in person." Christa said, reaching out to shake Hannah's hand. Hannah shook Christa's hand and took a moment to analyze Christ further. She seemed to be somewhere in her mid to late twenties. Her long, straight brown hair was hung up in a ponytail. Christa probably had a good 7 inches of height on Hannah, which contributed further to her intimidating aura. "Well, why don't we take a seat and we can talk about what you need and what I can provide." Christa said as she lead Hannah to empty table. Hannah sat down across the table from Christa. Hannah was having trouble making eye contact due to her nervousness. "Let's start with why you called me." Christa started. "W-well, as I said on the phone this is my first term of college and I'm failing nearly all of my classes." Hannah explained. "I see. And why is that?" "I have a hard time paying attention in class and I can never bring myself to do my homework. Every time I try I end up getting demotivated and can't focus." "Is that so? I'm thinking that my services would be a good fit for you. What classes are you taking?" "College Algebra, Beginners Writing, Art History, and U.S. History." "And what are your grades like?" "I have a 27% in math, 49% in writing, 72% in Art History, and a %36 in U.S. History." I answered, a bit embarrassed. "Oh, wow. If you don't get those up you won't be looking good for next term. It's a good thing you are taking action now. Midterms are next week, so you may still have time to turn this around. What I think this boils down to is a lack of discipline and motivation on your part. I'm guessing your parents helped keep you on track in high school?" Christ asked. "That's right. My mom and dad were always checking my grades making me do my homework. They're hundreds of miles away now, though." Hannah explained, realizing a little how much she was missing them. "And that's the case for a lot of people like you. You've had someone watching over you and making you do your school work your whole life. Without those hands pushing you to succeed, you're losing pace and falling behind. What I do is act as that hand. I'll give you the motivation you need to keep your grades up while also helping you develop routines and self-discipline so that you can be your own pushing hand. Do you want to know more?" Christa asked me. It was honestly all starting to make sense to Hannah now. Back in high school her parents were always threatening her with groundings for not doing her homework. They were always checking her grades and questioning her about low scores or missing assignments. When she had that her grades were fine. But her parents were hundreds of miles away now, and she had only herself to rely on. Realizing there wasn't any immediate consequence for failing, she let myself slip into a cycle of bad habits. "Yes. I think this might be exactly what I need." Hannah answered. "I think so too. Now, I will warn you that my methods are fairly unconventional. I have found that it's better if I don't explain them until it's time to implement them, as my clients sometimes get cold feet after hearing my plan. I want to assure you that I have a very high success rate though." That made Hannah even more nervous. What could be so bad about what Christa does? Would she also get cold feet if she knew what they were, she wondered? In truth it hardly even mattered to her at this point. If she couldn't change course then she was going to sink. This could be her only chance to turn her future around. "I'm still interested. As I see it this might be my only chance at staying in college." Hannah stated. "Then I think we have come to an agreement. I have some paperwork here for you to sign. Once it's complete I will work with the school to bill your financial aid account. I charge a flat fee of $60 a week and require payments for a full term." Christa explained as she handed Hannah multiple pieces of paper. The first form was a general information form. It asked for Hannah's personal information, as well as her student ID number and dorm room number. The second, third, and forth pages were all legalese, which Hannah was having a hard time understanding. Eventually she gave up, assuming it to just be consent to let Christa bill Hannah's account and other mundane information. At the very end it asked for Hannah's signature, which she penned in without a second thought. "Very good. I look forward to working with you Hannah. We'll get started tonight. I am going to come over to your dorm at 6:00pm. I want you to eat dinner beforehand and be ready for me, with all your uncompleted homework. I also want you to setup proxy access to your account for my email address, so that I can monitor your grades." Christa instructed, handing Hannah a business card that listed her email. "Alright. I'll see you tonight then!" Hannah said as she left, proud of herself for finally getting her act together. ----- When 6:00pm arrived Hannah was incredibly nervous. Honestly she didn't know what to expect. Was Christa going to act like a tutor? What were her 'unconventional' methods? Was this going to be worth the money? She had done everything that Christa had asked of her. Her homework was either sitting on her desk or pulled up on her laptop. She had granted Christa access to view her grades as soon as she got back. Hannah was waiting in her room when there was a knock on the door. Hannah got up to answer it, but one of her suite-mates who was lounging in the living room beat her to it. "Hello. I'm looking for Hannah?" Hannah heard Christa ask from the other room. "She's in her room right now. I'll go get her." Angie, Hannah's suite-mate, said. Angie didn't have a chance though, as Hannah left her room to welcome Christa inside. "Christa! Hello! Please, come inside." Hannah said as she approached the door. "Ah, hello Hannah." Christa replied. "Angie, this is Christa. She's going to help me get my grades up." I explained. "Wait? Christa Morris? I think you may have helped my sister when she was in college. She has never told me much about it, but she said you're the reason she got through college." Angie stated. "I am glad I was able to help her! What is her name?" Christa asked Angie. "Elanor Grace." Angie answered. "Oh I remember Elanor! Yep, I helped her get through her sophomore year. I'm happy to hear that she made it all the way through. If you see her please tell her I said hello!" Christa requested. After a little bit more idle chatter Hannah led Christa back to her room. Once inside Hannah shut the door and Christa placed the bag she was carrying down onto the bed. "That's a big bag. What's in it?" Hannah asked. "Just some supplies. You'll see when we get to it. Is that all of your homework on your desk?" Christa asked. "Oh, yes. I also have the online assignments pulled up on my laptop." "Very good. Now, let's get down to business. If you remember, this afternoon we talked about you having a lack of motivation and needing a pushing hand. Well, that's exactly what I plan on giving you. Tell me, Hannah, how did your parents discipline you when you were having trouble in school?" Christa asked. "They usually grounded me or at least threatened to." Hannah answered, a bit embarrassed. "I see. Well I am going to take a similar approach with you. Have you ever been spanked Hannah?" Christa asked with no hesitation. "Spanked?!" Hannah responded, a bit startled. "Yes. Has your parents or anyone else ever given you a spanking?" Christa asked again. "N-no!" Hannah answered, almost a bit defensive. "It's okay, you don't need to get worked up. I found in the past that groundings are too hard to enforce on a college student. That, along with numerous other reasons, is why I opt to use spankings as a punishment. Bad grades and missing assignments earn my clients a spanking, with the duration and intensity being decided by the severity. It helps give them a motivation to succeed, so that they can avoid future spankings. I think that's where we'll start tonight." Christa said, as if it was completely normal. "Y-you're going to spank me?" Hannah asked, her heartbeat rapidly rising. "Correct. Come on over." Christa instructed, taking a seat in Hannah's desk chair. Hannah was scared. She had never been spanked before and she certainly wasn't expecting them to be a part of this. Christa's reasoning made sense to her but she just couldn't imagine herself being spanked. Spankings were for kids and Hannah was an adult. "Come on Hannah, let's get your spanking out of the way. We have a lot to do tonight" Christa said, patting her lap again. "I-I don't know, Christa. Isn't that a little extreme?" Hannah asked, scared and embarrassed. "Nope. In fact, I think it's exactly what you need. Now come on. Don't make me drag you over here." Christa threatened. Hannah gulped as she slowly started approaching Christa. Once close, Christa took hold of her arm and gently guided the small girl over her lap. Due to Hannah's short stature she was left dangling well above the ground. Hannah's breathing and heartbeat increased even more once she was positioned. She felt like she was two feet tall. Hannah yelped when she felt Christa's fingers slip beneath her pants. Christa wasted no time in sliding them down to Hannah's ankles. Hannah blushed as her panties were exposed to the older girl. That couldn't compare to how embarrassed she was when she felt Christa's fingers hook onto the back of her panties. "H-hey!" Christa said as her panties were slid down to her ankles. "Spankings are given bare-bottom, Hannah. Now I'm going to explain how this is going to go. You'll be spanked one minute for every grade of yours below a 'C' and half a minute for every 'C'. Once we're done with that you'll get a paddle swat for every missing assignment you currently have. It looks like tonight's spanking will last three and a half minutes with 9 paddle swats afterword. Do you have any questions before we start?" Christa asked. "Will it hurt?" Hannah asked, more nervous than she'd ever been before. "Yes, Hannah, it will. The pain will help motivate you to do better and avoid more spankings in the future. You should think about what earned you this spanking and what you're going to do to avoid another one." Christa said, taking on a more domineering tone. "W-wait! Won't Angie and Sierra hear?" Hannah asked, trying to think of a way out of this. "I would be surprised if they didn't. Don't worry though. Once we explain to them that it's for your own benefit I'm sure they'll understand. Maybe in the future they will be willing to help with your spankings as well." Christa answered. "C-can't we think of something else?" "No, Hannah. Now no more stalling. I'm going to set my timer and start. Are you ready?" "N-no." "Well you have a few seconds to prepare." Christa rested her arms on Hannah's back while she set a timer on her phone. Once it was ready she clicked 'start' and used her right hand to deliver the first smack to Hannah's bottom. The first spank caused Hannah to let out a small yelp. The small girl clearly was not ready for what was about to come. Christa steadily delivered swat after swat to Hannah's exposed butt. Each one sent a jolt of pain through the smaller girl's backside and caused her to let out a whine. As the spanking continued the swats became harder and the speed picked up. It didn't take long for Hannah's whines to turn into expressions of pain. Hannah was terrified. She had no clue how long had passed since the spanking started and her bottom felt like it was on fire. Each swat was more painful than the last. Before long she could feel tears begin to well-up in her eyes. Not long after they were streaming down her face. Suddenly Hannah's door opened. Both Hannah and Christa looked up to see Angie standing there, flustered. "O-oh! S-sorry to interrupt! I was wondering what all that noise was!" Angie said before quickly closing the door. The interruption did nothing to stop Christa's flow. Hard swats continued to rain down on Hannah's defenseless bottom. Hannah's crying and embarrassment was worsened by Angie witnessing her being spanked. Hannah felt like she was half her age. How could she hope to see herself as equals with her roommates after being seen in this state? The spanking continued on with Hannah's whining growing even louder and more desperate. Her bottom was absolutely on fire with a pain she couldn't remember ever experiencing before. Eventually she was fully pleading with Christa for her to stop. unfortunately for Hannah her requests fell on deaf ears. Hannah had no idea how much longer the spanking went on for before she heard Christa's alarm go off. Relief washed over the smaller girl as the slaps to her bottom ceased. The pain was all still there though, radiating an intense heat from her bottom. "Now that that's done we'll move on to the paddle strokes." Christa said, motioning for Hannah to stand up. The intensity of the spanking had caused Hannah to forget all about the nine paddle strokes her missing assignments earned her. A new dread entered her mind as she was reminded. Christa helped her up off her lap and onto her feet. Hannah's legs were a bit wobbly so she had to try her best to maintain her balance while trying to rub the pain out of her bottom. Her balance wasn't helped by her pants and panties, which were still pulled down around her knees. The pain prevented her from recognizing how exposed she was. Christa went over to her bag and pulled out a large, long paddle. When Hannah saw it she became even more scared of what was about to happen. It looked like something you would see used for hazing new pledges in a college movie. When Hannah noticed the grid of holes on the head of the paddle her fear worsened even further. "Okay Hannah, go ahead and bend over and grab your ankles." Christa instructed. "Christa please! I can't take anymore! Can't we just get to studying?" Hannah pleaded. "No Hannah, not until we've got your discipline out of the way. Now bend over, or I may have to add more strokes." Christa threatened, getting a bit annoyed at the younger girls whining/ Hannah gulped as she slowly started to bend over. Her bare bottom becoming more and more vulnerable. When she was and low and she could go she grabbed hold of her ankles and did the best she could to brace herself. Her anxiety grew as she heard Christa approach her. "Tonight you're getting nine paddle swats. One for each missing assignment you have. I want you to count each one out loud. If you miscount or forget then we'll redo that swat. Understand?" Christa explained. "Y-yes." Hannah said, very much unready for what was about to happen. With no warning Hannah suddenly felt pain explode through her bottom. The spankings she got from Christa's hand earlier were nothing compared to what the paddle could do. Hannah involuntarily let out a scream in shock. "One!" Hannah yelled, not wanting any more awful strokes than what she was already getting. Christa drew the paddle back and harshly brought it back down. A loud 'THWAP' quickly followed. Hannah shot forward from pain. She was trying her best to mitigate it with a death grip on her ankles, but it didn't seem to be helping. "Two!" This rhythm continued for the next several swats. Each one drew more tears and painful screams out of Hannah. She was now truly understanding why Christa was so effective. Who the hell would want to suffer this every week?! "Eight!" Hannah cried out shortly after the paddle hit her. Just one more and she was done. It was all she could think about. "Nine!" Hannah yelled right after the final stroke made contact. Hannah instantly removed hold of her ankles and moved on to rubbing her butt. No matter what she did, she couldn't get rid of the pain though. If she thought it was bad after the hand spanking, then this feeling was truly horrid. "Now that your spanking is done we cam move on to part two." Christa said as she went back over to her bag. Hannah could have never guessed what Christa was about to pull out. Out of the bag Christa brought out a large, pink package. Hannah couldn't immediately tell what is was until Christa placed it down onto her bed and she could see the logo. It was a package of children's pull-ups. "W-what are those for?" Hannah asked, still trying to get her sobbing under control. "They're for you." Christa said, as if this was normal. "What? I don't need diapers!" Hannah exclaimed, almost sounding offended. "First off, they're not diapers, they're pull-ups. And second, they're the second part of your punishment." Christa stated. "What?!" Hannah almost yelled. "Calm down Hannah. The spankings serve to give you something to dread. They are to help motivate you to study and do your homework by making you fear a more painful spanking. The pull-ups are used to accomplish the same thing but in a different way. Until you're grades improve and your assignments are turned in your panties are going to be entirely replaced with these. The thick padding and childish designs will embarrass you, motivating you to study and do your homework so that you can earn your big-girl panties back. You can think of them as punishment panties." Christa explained. This was too much for Hannah. Not only had she just been spanked like a child, now she was expected to wear diapers meant for potty training toddlers? The logic behind it made sense to her in a way, but she was a college student for god sake! She was much too old to be spanked and wearing pull-ups. And calling them 'punishment panties' didn't make it any better. "Christa is that really necessary? I'm 18 for crying out loud. I'm way too old to wear those! They probably won't even fit me!" Hannah exclaimed. "Oh I bet you they will. And age has nothing to do with this. I don't expect you to pee in them or anything. They're just there to give you a goal to work towards and keep you motivated. The pain from a spanking will fade in a day or so, but these will always be there to remind you of what you're working towards. Now come here, we've wasted enough time already." Christa ordered. Hannah was trapped. She knew there was no way she was going to talk Christa out of this. Her only hope was that the pull-ups wouldn't fit and Christa would abandon the idea. Shamefully, Hannah waddled her way over to her bed where Christa was sitting. Christa started by pulling down Hannah's pants and panties even farther. She had the smaller girl grab hold of her shoulders while she worked the pants off of her. Next came the panties, leaving Hannah completely exposed from the waist down. Christa then ripped open the package of pull-ups. She pulled one out of the package and allowed Hannah to get a good view of it. The pull-up was all pink. On the front there were several Disney princesses and just below them was a white oval containing an outline of Cinderella's slipper. A wetness indicator. Christa pulled the pull-up open and slipped her hands through the leg holes. She stretched open the object and brought it down towards Hannah's feet, clearly intending for her to step into it. Praying that they wouldn't fit, Hannah hesitantly slipped her foot through the first hole and then the second. Christa then began to work the pull-up up Hannah's legs. To her horror, there was little to no resistance as it got higher. Hannah felt utterly defeated as Christa removed her hands and the pull-up conformed to her body perfectly. "See, I told you they'd fit. Now, as I said before, these are to be your only panties until your grades improve. The only time you're allowed to remove them is when you're showering or using the toilet. I don't care if you're sleeping, going to class, visiting your parents, or whatever else. Your punishment panties stay on. Understand?" Christa said. "Yes Christa." Hannah lightly said while starring down. "Good girl. Now let's get to work. Get started on your math homework and let me know if you have any questions or need any help." Christa said. Hannah was going to put her pants back on to try to hide the pull-up but was forbidden to by Christa. Humiliated, Hannah brought her padded bottom to her desk. The pull-up was much thicker than her normal panties though. As she walked she noticed that it was slightly forcing her legs apart. Not enough to give her a waddle, but enough for her to notice. She also noticed that every movement resulted in a slight crinkle sound. Hannah wasn't ready for the wave of pain that shot through her as she tried to sit down. The pain from her spanking earlier had minor subsided and became relatively unnoticeable as her attention was focused solely on the pull-ups, but when she tried to sit down it was reignited. Hannah quickly shot back up and began rubbing her butt through the back of her pull-up. "Sit down, Hannah. The pain will fade soon." Christa ordered. Hannah slowly lowered herself back down. She winced as her butt made contact with the chair. She kept going though until she was full seated. The pain was horrible at first, but like Christa said it slowly faded. Not enough to not be painful, but enough to where she could divert her attention away from it. Hannah began working on her homework as ordered. She was interrupted minutes later though when she heard activity behind her. She turned around to see Christa going through her dresser, removing all of her panties. "What are you doing?" Hannah asked Christa. "Confiscating your panties so that you aren't tempted to wear them. Don't worry, I'll give them back once your grades improve. Now try to focus on your homework" Christa explained. Hannah turned back around and tried to focus on her homework. She'd occasionally steal glances back at Christa though. At one point she noticed that Christa was filling up the dresser drawer with pull-ups out of the package. There wasn't enough room for all of them though, so Christa just left the half full package exposed on top of the dresser. Hannah could have never imagined herself like this. She though college was her chance to show that she was an adult, yet here she was wearing what was essentially a diaper for toddlers after being spanked like a little kid. The worst part was that she was PAYING for it. Hopefully in the end she would actually be able to pass. It was going to be a long seven weeks.
  15. I am reuploading a story I originally found on Wattpad but is no longer available. I am not sure who the author is sorry. Chapter 1 Meeting Lauren Derrick parked his car and walked down the cobblestone path. He was nervous. He had met Lauren on a dating website and had talked to her through video chats for the last couple of months. They shared common interests and would chat online most nights sharing secrets, eventually, they became very close. After feeling comfortable enough, they agreed to meet in person at Lauren's house. As he walked he wondered if his biggest fantasy would come true. He thought about the secret he told her, remembering how difficult it was to say... "I'm a pretty submissive guy, and my next girlfriend would have to spank me,". Derrick had never told anyone about his submissive side and his special need for discipline. He remembered how she giggled through the computer screen and called him a bad boy. After that, it was never spoken of again. The thought of that conversation made the blood go straight to his dick. Did she think it was a joke? Or was she actually into it? He felt butterflies in his stomach as he knocked on the door. It was a yellow house with a big wooden door. He heard footsteps. Lauren answered with a bright welcoming smile. "Hello, Derrick! It's so nice to meet you in person. Come on in!" Derrick smiled nervously and said hello. Lauren was beautiful and fit, with long brown hair. Derrick followed Lauren into the house. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a grey t-shirt. Derrick couldn't keep his eyes off of her long toned legs. They went into the kitchen and Lauren made some tea. She offered a cup to Derrick, which he immediately thanked her for. They each wanted to know more about each other. Lauren talked about being a successful business owner, and how lucky she had been to succeed at such a young age. Derrick looked up to her as a role model. He was taking part-time classes at the community college, and often struggled with the work. Lauren often encouraged him and helped him with his homework through the video chats. Derrick considered her a caring and supportive friend. After talking in person for awhile, Derrick could feel a special connection growing between them. Derrick was curious to know if this friendship had any chance to progress into something more. After spending so much time with Lauren online, he figured the least he could do was ask. Lauren laughed at him. "You have a chance with me Derrick, but we need to talk about what you're looking for in a relationship. I need you to be completely honest with me because I know you're holding something back, and I think we both know what that is" Derrick froze, and spanking came to mind. He hesitated to respond. After a long silence, Lauren stood up and put her hand on her hip. She had a serious look on her face but talked calmly "Here's the deal, you can talk to me now or this conversation is over. It can't be that hard, you've already told me about it. If you want a relationship with me than you'll have to be honest." Derrick looked at his feet and replied in a soft voice "Are you talking about my secret?" She nodded. "Just tell me what you want Derrick, it's not that difficult." Derricks cock was hard, and his heart was pounding. "If we have a relationship, I would need to be spanked regularly " Lauren giggled at him "Good boy Derrick. Luckily for you, I'm a very open-minded girl. I think we need to agree on how to go about doing this. I think we should write it out so we're both on the same page." Derrick agreed. Chapter 2 The Agreement Lauren returned to the table and sat down. "Okay Derrick, if you need to be spanked like a child than we need to know how and why wouldn't you agree?" Derrick gulped and realized that she wasn't wasting time. He nodded yes to her question. "Good, and while you're being punished you'll call me Miss Lauren, or just Miss. Do you understand? "Yes, Miss." "Good. Now, let's start with some bad behavior that might earn you a spanking. Keep in mind that this list can always be added to over time. I want you to write a list of some of the bad habits that you have. I'll add one now. You told me earlier that you smoke occasionally. From now on, if you smoke, you get spanked. Got it?" Derricks hard on was about to explode. He replied with another "Yes Miss." The sheet of paper was titled: Derrick's Punishment Agreement Under the title, Lauren had written: Behavior that Derrick will be punished for. Derrick began to write. 1. Smoking 2. Drinking too much 3. Being late 4. Being disorganized 5. Putting off homework 6. Bad grades 8. Talking back Derrick handed the list over to Lauren. "I like it so far. I think its a good starting point, although I think I'll add lying to the list. That's something I have absolutely no patience with, and the consequences will be very severe." Derrick agreed, and they continued. "Let's move on to how you'll be punished. I personally think that being over my lap will be the most humiliating for you. It's childish and exposing, and I think it will work perfectly. Does that sound fair?" Derrick was in total shock, Sitting in front of him was his new beautiful girlfriend that was going to spank him and it seemed like she was educated on the matter. He nodded his head and agreed. She was writing the details and talking at the same time. "I'm glad you agree Derrick, and I'm really glad we found each other. I think this relationship is going to flourish." Lauren finished writing and looked up at Derrick. "Now that positioning is out of the way, let's add in the fun stuff. Anytime you get spanked over my lap i'll start with my hand and then use an implement. In some extreme cases, I'll use the implement for the entire spanking. It might be a hairbrush or a paddle. Is that okay with you?" "Yes Miss" "Good, now on to public spankings..." "Public?" Derrick asked in sudden fear. "Hopefully it will never occur, but if we're in public and you misbehave then you can expect to be punished immediately." Derrick grew tense "I think that's a little extreme. People are going to see us!" "Spankings are supposed to be embarrassing Derrick. But I'll make a deal with you. If you're really bad in public, then yes, you will be spanked on the spot. But if its something minor, then I'll spank you in a private bathroom or in the car. Keep in mind that a spanking at home will always follow. Just make sure you're good in public and we shouldn't have a problem. Okay?" Derrick thought about being spanked by his girlfriend in public and it made him cringe, but after a lot of convincing, he agreed to her rule. Lauren reached out and held Derricks' hand. "I'm really happy to have you as my boyfriend. I will be fair and respect you, but if you test me and break these rules, then you can expect a sore ass." Derrick was overcome with excitement and felt so lucky to have Lauren in his life. He smiled at her and she smiled back. "Derrick, is there any other punishment or kink that you need to tell me about? Because now is the time to come clean to me about it. It would be easy to add it into our agreement right now." Derrick said no, but in the back of his mind, there was something else that excited him. He was just too embarrassed to mention it. By the time they had finished the list, it was 11:30. They soon ended up calling it a night. Lauren Walked Derrick to the door, and they made out on the stoop for a while. Lauren told him to call her tomorrow to make plans. Derrick was eager to see her again and happily agreed. As Derrick began to walk away Lauren planted two smacks on his butt and grinned. "Be a good boy Derrick!" Chapter 3 Derrick Breaks a Rule Derrick called Lauren around 1:00 in the afternoon. It was a dark and rainy summer day and she suggested they watch a movie at her place. Derrick agreed and left his apartment with an umbrella in one hand and his keys in the other. On the way he was stopped at a traffic light, his dick was hard. He was thinking of which rule he should break and wanted to know how it felt to be butt naked over Lauren's toned thighs. He wondered what she was wearing today, and what she would use to spank him with. He heard the horn of a driver behind him and realized the light was green. He arrived and knocked on the door. Lauren was happy to see him. They kissed at the door and walked inside. She was wearing tight black sweatpants and a tank top. As they walked through the kitchen Derrick noticed the Punishment Agreement they had worked out last night laying on the counter. Derrick had dreamed of that list and the agreements he made with Lauren. His cock was getting stiff. Lauren had picked out a romantic comedy and told Derrick to put it in the player while she made popcorn. Derrick saw a perfect opportunity to earn his first spanking. When Lauren came back with the popcorn she noticed that he hadn't put the movie in. Derrick stood in the center of the living room with an erection and a smile on his face. "Fuck romantic comedies. I hate them and I'm NOT going to do what you tell me!" Lauren giggled at him. She put the popcorn down on the table and crossed her arms with a very feminine no-nonsense stance. "Somebody wants a spanking huh?" "Yes, Miss." He replied. Lauren studied Derrick for a moment, then walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him in close to her. "If a spanking is what you want, then a spanking is what you'll receive. Go into the kitchen and get my wooden spoon out of the drawer by the fridge." Derrick started for the kitchen and felt the sting of three hard smacks to the center of his butt. He looked back to see Lauren grinning at him. When he came back to the living room he found Lauren sitting patiently on the center of the couch. She reached up and grabbed Derrick by his waistband and pulled him in front of her. "Get down on your knees Derrick, we're going to have a little chat first." Derrick did as he was told. As he was kneeling Lauren scooted forward and split her legs, pulling Derrick into her crotch. Derrick felt small compared to Lauren. She put her hands on his hips and began to speak. "You broke one of the rules that we agreed on. Do you remember what happens to little boys that break rules?" Derrick looked up into Lauren's blue eyes and answered. "They get spanked." "That's right Derrick. You've been a very bad boy, and I'm afraid I have no other option but to spank you like a naughty child. Now get up, put the spoon on the table, and lay over my lap." After he put the spoon down he felt Lauren's hand grab his wrist firmly and pull him down over her thighs. "What a childish position for a boy your age to be in. Do you have anything to say to me before we begin?" So many thoughts and emotions were going through Derricks' head at that moment. His dick was pressed up against her thighs, and his butt was in the air. The only thing he could say was that he was sorry. Lauren laughed. "You can give me a proper apology when you're sitting on a freshly spanked butt." She then raised her palm and began smacking his bottom. Derricks pants and undies were still on which absorbed most of the impact, but after about 200 smacks his butt was really starting to warm up. Lauren was taking her time, and making sure Derrick was feeling as naughty and childish as possible. SMACK SMACK SMACK "how does it feel." SMACK SMACK SMACK "To be draped over your girlfriend's lap." SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK "For a well-deserved spanking?" SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK YOU'VE BEEN A NAUGHTY - SMACK - NAUGHTY - SMACK - LITTLE BOY! - SMACK SMACK SMACK Lauren noticed that while she was spanking and scolding, Derrick was rubbing his hard dick against her thighs. She liked the reaction she was getting from him and continued to spank over his pants. After 3 or 4 more minutes, she stopped and rubbed his bottom. She could feel some heat on his plump cheeks. "Alright naughty pants. Get up and stand in front of me." Derrick complied. Soon he was standing in front of his girlfriend with his erection pointing towards her. Lauren grabbed his waistband and slid his pants down to his ankles and told him to step out. She looked at his tighty whities with a grin. "I like your little boy undies. They really suite you Derrick." She quickly spun him around. She could see some redness beginning to creep in on the sit spots, and without warning, she hiked up Derricks undies into his butt crack. "AHHHH!" Derrick jumped a bit which made Lauren laugh. "Oh yeah, those cheeks are getting pretty red. How do they feel right now Derrick?" Derrick, redder in the face than he was on his butt, responded. "It feels kind of hot, in more ways than one." Lauren smacked him on his bare wedgied butt 5 times in the same spot. "Obviously you still need a lot more. Get your bottom over my lap, Derrick. You're going to be one sorry boy when I'm finished with you." With that, she pulled him down to her strong thighs. Derrick could better feel the curves of her lap without his pants, and he was eager to be placed on her lap without any kind of protection. He felt childish and ridiculous being over her lap wearing tighty whities. Lauren had strong thick legs, which aided in propping his butt higher up and making him feel more exposed. Lauren began to spank after situating him on her thighs. Her rhythm began to pick up. She concentrated on his bare sit spots and gave him breaks by spanking over his childish underwear. Every now and then she would hike up his undies into his butt crack and smack his bare butt a few times. She really liked the effect of the wedgies. After about 6 minutes of undie spanking, his butt was fairly red. Lauren made sure to rub the fact in. "I think we're making progress, but your cock is still hard. You must really like being spanked. You've been taking this very well so far." Derrick began to rub his dick on her lap while she held him in position. It felt like dozens of fire ants were biting at his bottom. He especially felt the burn on his sit spots. He came close to exploding on her lap but she made him stop thrusting just in time. "Alright Derrick, break time's over. It's time to get serious." Lauren grabbed at Derricks waistband. He was expecting another wedgie but instead, she gently pulled them down over his tender butt. The underwear snagged on the tip of his dick and she asked him to lift up for a second so she could correct that. Pretty soon his tighty whities were down to his ankles and he was told to kick them off. Now Derricks dick was in direct contact with Lauren's sweat pant covered thighs. This is a moment Derrick wishes he could stay in for eternity. The feeling of his spanked bare butt propped up by a beautiful women's lap is a feeling that can't be accurately put into words. Derrick felt the cool air of the room on his bottom and listened to Lauren's soft voice. He wanted to cum so badly. He started to gently hump her thighs while she spoke to him. "This is what you get every time you break the rules, Derrick. Now spread your legs." Derrick felt her hand cup the inside of his thigh, pulling his butt cheeks apart. He felt complete exposure. Lauren could see the back of his scrotum and his little butt hole. She stroked his bum for a few seconds while enjoying the view, then started to spank. SWAT SMACK SPANK SLAP SMACK SMACK SMACK Lauren's rhythm was really picking up, and Derrick began to squirm on her lap. The spanking was starting to sink in for Derrick as he realized that she hadn't even touched the wooden spoon yet. His butt was starting to burn, and he jumped a bit every time Lauren's hand landed in the tender areas of his butt crack and thighs. "OUCHHHH! THAT'S STARTING TO STING!" SMACK SMACK SLAP "Oh I know it's starting to sting Derrick. You're squirming around a bit more than before." SMACK SMACK WHACK SLAP "You'll just have to try to take your punishment like a big boy." "LAUREN AWWWW WAIT IM SORRY!" Lauren laughed at his apology. "I guess spankings aren't all about humping my thighs after all, huh Derrick?" Derrick groaned and tried his best to keep himself from crying. Lauren stopped to give him a little break. Derrick felt her reach for the spoon. "Lauren, wait. I've learned my lesson. Do you think this can just be a hand spanking?" Lauren laughed at him. "This is why I like to spank Derrick. I decide when it stops, and I can't think of a good enough reason to let you off my lap. Plus, if you remember our little agreement, I mentioned that every time you're over my lap you get spanked with an implement. In this case, it's a wooden spoon. You should be thankful it's not a hairbrush." "Lauren, please. I'm sorry." Derrick replied in a low pitched and pitiful tone. Derrick felt humiliated and defeated. There was no way out of it. "You should be sorry Derrick. After all, you did ask for this." Derrick buried his face in his arms and waited for the spoon to strike. THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK Lauren brought the spoon down hard, and Derricks' legs began to kick against the couch. She held him firmly. "You're not getting out of this Derrick. This is a part of your life now and you need to accept that." By now Derricks dick was getting soft, which increased his embarrassment. He knew that Lauren had noticed. She had him right where she wanted. THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK "AWWWW STOP IT! PLEEEAAASSSEEE!" Derrick kicked and squirmed violently. Lauren ignored him. And after about 5 minutes of non-stop and fast-paced spanking with the wooden spoon, she could hear him break down into a sobbing mess. She continued a couple minutes longer, making sure that he knew who was boss. When she stopped he lay motionless with his face buried in his arms. He was sobbing and breathing heavily. Lauren stroked his back and rubbed his tender bottom. "I think we're done now, Derrick. I'm not going to lie and tell you I didn't enjoy spanking you, I actually can't wait for you to break another rule." Lauren helped him off of her lap and told him to sit on her knee. He winced and sobbed as his sore butt made contact with her left thigh. She held him close in her arms like a mother would to a little child. "I care about you so much Derrick, but I DO NOT mess around when it comes to punishment. I hope you keep that in mind the next time you decide to misbehave." Derrick held onto his girlfriend and told her how sorry he was about the DVD. She meant so much to him. "I know you didn't mean to insult me earlier Derrick, you were just curious. As a matter of fact, I was expecting that to happen today. I had to be hard on you in order to get my point across. I spank hard Derrick, but it all pays off in the end. You'll see. After their heart to heart, Derrick was told to stand up and put the movie in. This time he didn't dare give her attitude. He asked if he could put his pants back on, Lauren said no. "I want to see that red butt of yours for the rest of the day, mister!" Chapter 4 Secrets Worth Telling Derrick had ended up sleeping over at Lauren's house. He awoke on the same couch he was punished on the day before. Lauren was sitting next to him watching tv. Derrick noticed that he was still butt naked from the waist down. She giggled and told him how cute he was as he slept. Derrick was still in a sleepy morning daze, but Lauren pinched his sore butt which immediately woke him up. The sting brought back the memory of sobbing over her lap. "How's that bottom of yours feeling Derrick?" "It still hurts the same as it did last night" Lauren kissed him on the forehead "Let's try to put that behind us. We should go out and have some fun today. Plus I need to run some errands." "Where do you want to go?" he replied while rubbing his tired eyes. "Well, I need to stop at the grocery store, and afterward you can pick a place to eat." Derrick agreed. Lauren insisted on driving. It was a humid day, so Lauren decided to change into some tight jean shorts and a red tank top. On the way out of the house, Derrick noticed Lauren putting a plastic hairbrush into her purse. "Just in case!" she said with a wink. Derrick blushed. As Derrick climbed into the car and sat down on the hot leather, he let out a moan. Lauren smiled at him and turned the key. "You can probably expect that to burn for a few more days!" Derrick thought about his punishment. He was starting to like the fact that his butt was bruised and red while Lauren's curvy butt was pain-free. The psychology of being spanked by her was really starting to kick in. He knew that whenever Lauren glanced at his butt, she would think of the spanking she delivered the day before. Lauren noticed the discomfort on his face as they walked through the parking lot and into the grocery store. She smiled at him and held his hand. Lauren got a cart from the cart bay and told Derrick to push while she got the groceries. She walked ahead of Derrick. His eyes were fixed on her round and curvy butt the whole time. The way it swayed and bounced painlessly from side to side teased him. He thought of her butt sitting on the couch while she held him over her lap. Then he felt the sharp pain of his own butt as he walked with her. He was starting to get horny. Lauren took her time shopping. She was in no rush and was having a great time with Derrick. Lauren was about to head to the register when she remembered the wooden hairbrush she wanted to buy for Derrick. While in the hairbrush isle Lauren asked which one he liked best. Derrick gulped and looked down at the ground. "Derrick, when I ask you something I expect you to respond to me. Don't make me have to ask you again. You'll be in big trouble young man." Derrick looked up and responded, fearing a spanking in the middle of the store." Maybe that one." He said, pointing at a medium-sized wooden brush. Lauren picked it up and smacked it against her palm a couple times. "Good choice Derrick now let's go ea. I'm starving." While walking to the registers they passed through the baby section. Lauren took the chance to embarrass Derrick and have a little fun with him. Lauren said with a laugh "You might still be getting spanked like a little boy Derrick, but at least you're not back in diapers like a little baby!" Derrick was stunned. He knew that she was joking, but the fact that she just said that aloud in the middle of the grocery store made his face turn a deep red. He felt his penis stiffen in his pants. Thankfully nobody was in the aisle with them. "Lauren! somebody could have heard that!" "That's the point, Derrick. Lighten up, it was a joke!" The couple had a perfect day. After stopping at home to unload the groceries, they ended up going to a local sandwich place. Later they stopped to get ice cream. Derrick kept thinking about what Lauren had said in the baby section of the store. He had pictured Lauren changing him into a diaper, and for some reason, the thought of it really excited him. Maybe it was the way Lauren had said it. The thought of her doing something that childish to him made his cock hard. He knew that he couldn't let the opportunity to ask her about it pass by. Plus, not being honest with Lauren about his feelings would certainly earn him another spanking. The two of them were sitting on a hill in the park eating ice cream when Derrick finally built up the courage to say something about it. "Hey Lauren, I wanted to ask you something." Lauren looked into his eyes "Sure Derrick, go ahead." "It has to do with what you said in the store today. I- " Lauren interrupted "I'm sorry for embarrassing you, Derrick. I know I crossed a boundary, I just wanted to have some fun. I'll respect your privacy next time. You were so good for me today." "It's okay, I'm not mad about it. I've just been thinking about when you mentioned the diapers and-" "What about the diapers Derrick?" Derrick hesitated "I guess I want to see how they feel. Ever since you brought them up I've been curious about it." Lauren stared into his eyes, and then looked down at his crotch. She pictured what it would look like to see her adult boyfriends dick wrapped up in a thick diaper. The thought made her smile. "Derrick, I was joking about that at first, but now that you bring it up it actually sounds kind of fun. Just keep in mind that diapers would be used as punishment, and we'll have to add it to the agreement. It's too bad you didn't tell me at the store, we could have picked up some supplies." "I know." he said "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to be honest but it was such a hard and embarrassing thing to tell you. Are you going to spank me again?" Lauren wrapped her arms around him "I won't spank you for this Derrick. It's okay to be curious about something. It would be a different story if you had kept this from me from the beginning, while we were writing our agreement. Plus, it's not every day that you ask your girlfriend to put you back into diapers. I just want you to be sure about this." Derrick was excited and knew he wanted to try it. "Thanks for understanding Lauren, I really want to try them." his face was red. "I'm always here for you Derrick. We should hit the store on the way home and pick up some supplies." Chapter 5 A New Kind Of Punishment The next day Lauren and Derrick sat across from each other in the kitchen. On the table lay the Punishment Agreement, a big package of adult disposable diapers, wipes, baby powder and Lauren's brand 'spankin' new hairbrush. "Alright Derrick, I did some research after you left last night and I came up with how diapering can be incorporated into our agreement, so hear me out. You'll only be diapered when you break my strictest rules. For example, smoking and bad grades are very naughty rules to break in my book. The consequences for those will be a spanking per day, and you'll be diapered 24/7. Lying is also a diapering offense, understood?" "Yes, Miss." Derrick was looking her up and down. Lauren looked hot today. She wore a little black skirt and a tight fitting white collared shirt that was buttoned down half way and rolled up at the sleeves. "As for the duration of the diaper punishment, I was thinking of starting out at 3 days for each rule you break." This will give you plenty of time to use your diapers. If you break two of my stricter rules then you'll be in diapers for 6 days, and you'll be spanked on each of those days. However, if you break all three of my strictest rules within a week, then you'll be on diaper punishment for a full 30 days. Do you understand?" Derrick agreed. He couldn't stop staring at the super thick disposables on the table. His curiosity was getting the best of him. "While being diaper punished, you will be expected to wear them in public. If I have to spank you in public, then your pants are coming down for it." Derrick snapped out of his daze, "But Lauren, I don't want anybody to see me in a diaper. Can't this be between you and me?" Lauren laughed "No Derrick, just because you're wearing a diaper doesn't mean you're exempt from public bare butt spankings. If anything, you deserve it more. Don't worry. Like I said before, make sure you behave in public and we shouldn't have a problem." "Yes, Miss." "Good boy. I can't think of much else to add... Oh wait, there is one more thing. While you're in the house you're not allowed to wear pants. Only diapers and a t-shirt." That wasn't a huge problem for Derrick, so he agreed. Lauren took his hand in hers. "This is a humiliating punishment Derrick, it makes spanking look like child's play when it comes to humiliation. Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?" Derrick was sure of it. He just had to remind himself to stay on his very best behavior in public. "It sounds fair." he replied in a low pitched tone. Lauren noticed that something was wrong. Derrick looked guilty, so she asked what the problem was. Derrick looked down at the table and answered. "Do you remember the day when we started this agreement, and you asked me if there was anything else that I wanted to add?" Lauren looked at him with troubled eyes. "Yes, and if I remember correctly you said no. Is there something you want to tell me, Derrick?" "I may have wanted to add something after all. It's not another bad habit. It's another punishment that I've been curious about. I don't know why I didn't tell you. Maybe I was embarrassed." Derrick knew he had put himself on the spot. In fact, he did it on purpose so he could try the diapers. Lauren's eyes grew angry. "So you lied about not wanting to add something to the list, and now you're suddenly telling me out of nowhere? I respect that you're coming clean with me, but a lie is a lie, Derrick. Now, what is it you wanted to add?" Derrick hesitated and choked up a bit. He didn't mean to make Lauren this angry. "I.. I guess I want you to start washing my mouth out with soap. It's just so childish and oddly appealing to me. I didn't mean to- " "Say no more Derrick," Lauren said as she added the new punishment to the agreement. "I am so pissed at you for keeping something like that from me. You lied to me while we were writing the agreement, and now you're asking for a favor. All I want is for you to trust me, Derrick. You really hurt my feelings." Derrick was silent as Lauren's angry eyes pierced through him. After taking a moment to think, Lauren took a deep breath and stood up from the table. She suddenly grabbed Derricks wrist and pulled him off of his chair. She began marching him to the kitchen sink. "Well Derrick, since lying is a strict rule of mine, I think I'm going to go ahead and punish you with diapers. Your diaper punishment starts effective immediately. You'll be diapered 24/7 for the next three days, and spanked every night. I've also decided to soap your mouth right now since you're so curious about it. You're going to be one very sorry little boy." Chapter 6 Triple Dose Lauren hiked up her skirt and grabbed Derrick by the wrist. She pulled him towards her right side. Derrick was caught off guard as he felt a strong tug, causing him to trip over her right thigh, thus landing him face down over her bare lap. He tried to wiggle and adjust. He could feel her bare legs split to stabilize and balance him. Lauren made sure that his dick rested on her right thigh, while her left thigh supported his upper body. She then reached between his legs to expose his scrotum. Throughout the spanking Lauren would make sure that his feet were always dangling, never touching the ground. Lauren took notice to how red and sore his bottom was from his last spanking. "Your butt holds a nice tone Derrick, I can't believe that after two full days it's still bright red." The hairbrush came down hitting each cheek and then the center of his butt crack. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK Lauren covered his butt with hairbrush welts and repeatedly reminded him to scoot further up on her knees, stick his butt out, and spread his cheeks more. She knew that reminding him of these things was humiliating, which boosted the effectiveness of the punishment. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK Derrick screamed through the bar of soap. He had never felt pain like this before. He knew that Lauren would not let up. He was helpless. "Get those feet off the floor Derrick! you can kick all you want but those legs should be dangling." Derrick kicked and bucked as she spanked each sit spot 200 times with a fast-paced rhythm. His butt started out bright red, but now it was bruised and purple. "Alright Derrick, spread your legs real wide so I can spank the tender spots, and then its diaper time." He did as he was told and spread his legs far and wide. He jumped and yelped as she spanked his anus and inner thighs. This continued for three minutes before she stopped. Derrick was stretched out across Lauren's lap screaming and kicking like a four-year-old even after she stopped spanking. His bottom was a deep shade of purple and red. Lauren held him tightly until he calmed down, and then asked if he was ready for diaper time. Derrick said "yes Miss." with tears in his eyes. Lauren let him up and told him to rinse his mouth out. While Derrick was at the sink tending to his soapy mouth, she sat in her chair and admired her work. "That is one sore butt you've got there Derrick. Just remember that I'll be spanking you for the next three nights before bedtime as part of your diaper punishment." Derrick sniffled and splashed handfuls of water into his mouth. Lauren laughed and told him he had 3 minutes to collect himself while she got his diaper ready. "If you're late, then you're going right back over my lap mister!" Lauren stood up from her chair and strutted over to the kitchen table. She stacked the powder and the wipes on top of the big package of diapers and then went into the bathroom to get some lotion. She carried everything into the living room and placed it on the floor. "You've got about two minutes Derrick." Lauren was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a big diaper in one hand, and the hairbrush in the other. "Alright, times up. If you're not over here in 5 seconds then I'm spanking your thighs." Derrick ran across the kitchen, barely making it in time. He stood in front of her with an erection and a very sore bottom. Lauren patted the towel that she had laid out in front of her and told him to lay down. When Derrick sat Lauren could see the pain in his eyes the moment his butt made contact with the towel. "Shouldn't have been so naughty Derrick." Derrick blushed and laid down on his back, his knees were slightly parted, but Lauren grabbed his legs and spread them out, revealing everything. She scooted in closer between his spread out legs and looked into his eyes. "During your diaper changes, you will put your hands on your head. If you try to interrupt anything then I'll smack your butt with the hairbrush, and I have a feeling you don't want me to do that anymore." Derrick agreed. Lauren put the diaper aside and squeezed a big glob of lotion into her hand. "This is going to be cold, but it'll feel good. Especially on your backside." Lauren began to rub the lotion onto Derricks legs and moved in closer to his crotch. She massaged his balls and began running her lotion covered hand up and down his shaft. She could tell Derrick was enjoying this, and she was enjoying it too. But she had to remind herself that this was for punishment and not for pleasure. Lauren looked him in the eyes. "Being diapered like this really says a lot about the state of your maturity Derrick. When you're in diapers for the next three days I want you to think long and hard about the consequences that come with your actions. Apparently, you need a little more motivation than going over my lap for a spanking." Lauren covered Derricks entire crotch with lotion and ordered him to flip over to his stomach. He obeyed and laid there quietly while she spoke. "Spread those cheeks, Derrick." She squirted the lotion directly on his bruised bottom. Derrick jumped a bit from the cold but was corrected with a firm smack to his thigh. "No squirming Derrick or I swear I'll put you back over my lap." Lauren rubbed the lotion all over his purple cheeks and into his ass crack. When she finished, he was ordered to flip over again. "Alright Derrick, its the moment you've been waiting for... diaper time! Now lift your bottom up high." Lauren slid the diaper under him. Then she lifted his legs and coated his crotch and butt with clouds of baby powder. "You are going to look adorable in your new underwear sweetie." Lauren let his legs down and grabbed the front of the diaper, pulling it over his dick. "Here we go!" Lauren cheered as she brought it up to his waist. She held it there and taped one side of the diaper after the other. After the tapes fastened, she made sure everything was tucked in around the legs and crotch. Lauren Patted the front of the diaper "All done baby, how does it feel?" Derrick was helped up to his feet. He walked with an awkward waddle, and his spanked butt was still showing a bit where the diaper ended near the sit spots. "It's so thick, I'm going to burn up with this on." Lauren laughed "That spanked bottom of yours probably doesn't help too much when it comes to the heat, but I guess you shouldn't have disobeyed me in the first place" Derricks erection pressed against the diaper, he looked ridiculous, and he felt like a well-punished toddler. Lauren hugged him. "I hope you learned your lesson. Now, let's go to bed, boys in diapers shouldn't be up this late." Derrick climbed the stairs while Lauren followed, playfully smacking his diapered bottom all the way up to the bedroom. Chapter 7 Humiliation At The Mall Derrick woke to a loud smack on his diapered butt. "Time to wake up Derrick, it's day one of your diaper punishment! " Lauren was brushing her teeth and sat down next to him on the bed. "We're going shopping today, so get ready" "Yes, Miss" Derrick rubbed his eyes and felt the aftermath of his punishment from last night. Derrick was having a hard time as he tried to rub his sore butt through the diaper. He knew he would be fussing with it all day. The soap taste was also present, and it was drying out his mouth and throat. Lauren watched him as he tried to rub his sore diapered butt. She could see the bruising on his sit spots and thighs. "Don't forget about our agreement Derrick. You can expect a spanking every night before bed for the next three nights." Derrick sat up in bed "Lauren, can I take the diaper off for a while? It feels like thousands of pins are stabbing me on the butt, and I'm sweating like crazy down there." Lauren laughed at his request "No Derrick if you hadn't lied to my face than you wouldn't be strapped into that diaper with a spanked bum in the first place. Being uncomfortable in your diapers is a huge part of this punishment. The only time that I'll remove that diaper is when you're in desperate need of a spanking or a changing. If you try to take it off yourself, then you'll be spanked." Derrick groaned, he realized that he may have underestimated the effect of the diaper punishment. He knew now that he would have to go out in public today with the hot bulk between his legs and the soreness of his butt. He was not looking forward to it. Lauren stood up. "Put your pants on Derrick, we're going to the mall." Derrick got out of bed and slid his pants on. He walked downstairs and found Lauren in the kitchen putting a few diapers and the hairbrush in her purse. Lauren looked up at him "The mall is pretty far away Derrick, if you have an accident then I'll need to change you there. As for the hairbrush, well, that's pretty self-explanatory at this point." She slung the purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys. "Come on Derrick, hop in the car." Derrick followed Lauren out to her car. The diaper made his butt stick out, and he walked with a slight waddle. Lauren was about to close the door when she suddenly remembered something. "Oops Derrick, I almost forgot your baby powder." She grabbed it off of the living room floor and placed it in her purse. "Alright, I think we're all ready to go." On the way to the mall, Lauren and Derrick talked and listened to the radio. Derrick brought up his living situation and mentioned that his lease would be up soon and he would have to find a new place to live. Lauren asked if he had found a place that he could afford. "Not yet, most of the places are taken, so I'll have to keep looking. Lauren thought for a while, and then told Derrick that he could stay at her place if he doesn't find something in time. "If you end up moving in, you would be paying me with chores and tasks that I assign around the house." Derrick thanked her for the offer and kissed her on the cheek. The mall parking lot looked empty as they approached. Derrick was nervous and Lauren could tell. She secretly wanted Derrick to misbehave so she could spank him in public. They walked through the sliding doors and into the food court. Lauren held derricks hand "Okay little one, I need you to hold my hand at all times so you don't get lost. Okay?" Derrick looked up at her and nodded, he felt like a child, but the diapers made him feel like a toddler. The two made their way through the mall holding hands. Lauren made the occasional joke about stopping in a toddler store and playing on the jungle gym. Derrick was red in the face. He knew the diaper wasn't very noticeable under his sweats, but the bulk between his legs and the occasional crinkle made him paranoid. Lauren and Derrick found themselves in a large department store about an hour into their shopping spree. Lauren hadn't let go of Derricks' hand all day and his patience was running thin. Lauren was looking at a long red dress when Derrick asked her how long they were going to shop. Lauren started looking at another dress and pulled Derrick along by the hand "Why baby? did you use your diapers like a good boy? Or are you just bored?" She could tell that he was finicky, and she was prepared to make this day as long as possible to bring out his naughty side in public. Her plan was working. Derrick rolled his eyes "We've been here for an hour and you haven't even bought anything!" Lauren glared into Derricks eyes and suddenly yanked at his wrist. He fell forward a bit and felt 3 hard smacks hit the center of his diapered bum. Derrick was shocked. He looked around the store to see if anybody heard the ordeal, luckily nobody was around. Lauren grabbed him by the chin and looked him in the eyes. "Derrick, if I hear you raise your voice to me one more time, I'll spank that diaper all the way back to the car. Do you understand me?" Derrick saw the seriousness in her eyes, and replied with a simple "yes Miss." Her eyes were still on his, and his dick was hard from the unexpected smacks to his rear. He couldn't believe it, but he wanted Lauren to spank him right there and now. Lauren still held his chin in her hand "Is that all Derrick? Just yes Miss? No apology?" Derrick looked away from her, he knew this was his chance. "I'm sorry Miss, can you please spank me in the store?" Lauren's eyes lit up, she was taken aback and surprised at Derricks request. Derrick noticed the smile on her face, he knew that this was what she wanted all along. "Wow Derrick, you must REALLY love to be spanked. Of course, I'll smack your bottom in the store!" She grabbed Derrick by the wrist and took a look around the huge store. She didn't want to draw a huge crowd, but one or two people wouldn't hurt. The shoe section was empty so she led Derrick through the store while smacking his bum. They arrived and Lauren quickly found a long bench that customers use to try on shoes. The bench was in the corner of the shoe department and was positioned in a way that allowed her to see every angle of the store. She sat down in the center of the padded bench. "Derrick, you have been such a bad boy today." Lauren released his wrist and quickly pulled his pants down to his ankles. Derricks white disposable diaper was exposed to the store, he immediately crouched behind the low shoe aisle. Lauren laughed and looked around the store "Come on Derrick, I don't see anybody yet, now get that diapered bottom over my lap!" She reached out and grabbed his hand and pulled him next to her, then slung him over her thighs. Derrick glanced back to see his white diapered bottom perched up on her knees. Lauren leaned in so he could see her face. "I'm surprised Derrick, it takes some balls to ask to be spanked in public. Especially during your diaper punishment!" Lauren grabbed a hold of Derricks diapered hip and swung with her strong arm, making sure the smacking of his diaper could be heard from across the store. "NAUGHTY NAUGHTY BOY!!" SWAT SWAT PLAT SMACK SMACK SMACK SLAP SMACK The diaper provided a lot of protection to Derricks buns, but the loudness of the smacks made him worry. Somebody must have heard the loud smacks. Lauren stopped after delivering 15 loud smacks to his diaper. She saw a young employee poke her head around the corner with a confused look on her face. She couldn't see Derrick yet because the shoe aisle was blocking her view, and she was still pretty far from where they were. Lauren looked down at Derricks diapered butt and felt pity "Alright Derrick, I'll make it quick for you." The employee started walking towards them as Lauren quickly pulled the diaper down just below his bottom. "There's an employee walking towards us so I'll only give you 20 with the brush." Lauren quickly reached into her purse and pulled out the wooden brush, she held Derrick tight. Lauren quickly paddled his bare butt one cheek after the other. As she spanked she continuously looked up at the approaching employee. She was getting closer. Derrick tried his best to stay quiet as the brushing was nearing an end. He kicked and squirmed as Lauren gave the 20th smack. Lauren quickly pulled up the diaper and yanked his sweatpants up but she wasn't quick enough. "IS HE IN DIAPERS? ARE YOU SPANKING HIM? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" Derrick tried to leap off of Lauren's lap but she held him down on her knees. Lauren stroked is bottom while she spoke to the employee. "Hi, I'm Lauren and this is my boyfriend Derrick. You might be wondering why a grown man is being spanked in your department store." The employee's name is Jill, she has blonde hair and a strong feminine build similar to Lauren's. "I just heard the sound but I wasn't expecting this!" Derrick buried his face in the cushion of the bench, he couldn't believe Lauren was speaking to an employee while he lay sprawled out across her thighs with his diapered butt in the air. Lauren placed her arm on the back of Derricks thighs, she could tell Jill was amused. "I'm sorry for the surprise, my boyfriend was in desperate need of a spanking. I hope this won't cause any problems." Jills eyes were fixated on Derricks' bottom. "Does he wear diapers?" Lauren Laughed and patted Derricks Diapered bum. "Yep, Derrick is on diaper punishment for the next three days. Believe it or not, he asked for all of this!" Jill giggled and tried to keep a straight face. She looked around the store and then focused on Derricks upturned bottom. "Can I see them?" Derrick squirmed and resisted a bit after hearing the request but Lauren was quick to spank in order to calm him down. SMACK SMACK SMACK "stop squirming Derrick" SMACK SMACK "there's nothing you can do about it!" SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK "now to answer your question Jill...of course you can see them!" Lauren pulled down the sweatpants to reveal the thick diaper. Jill noticed that it had been indented from Lauren's firm hand. Lauren continued to pull at the pants revealing his bright red thighs. Jill started cracking up. "OHHH NOO somebody's been up to no good! Did the wittle baby get a pankin?" The girls laughed as Derrick wiggled and tried to free himself. Lauren pressed him firmly down against her lap. "Stop your fussing Derrick." Jill laughed, she couldn't believe her eyes. "Well... I'm opening the store today and I'll be the only one in this department for the next hour. You can finish spanking him if you'd like, but I'll need to close this wing down while you do it." Lauren smiled and thanked Jill for not making a big deal out of Derricks situation. "You can stay and watch if you want. I think the punishment would be more effective if you stayed. We'll wait for you while you close up the wing." "Sounds like a plan!" Jill smiled and ran to close off the entrance to the store. Chapter 8 Lauren Makes A Friend Jill came back and sat down on a neighboring bench. She had a great view of Derricks propped up tushy. His bottom felt warm and tingly from the 20 smacks with the brush, and the diaper was snug against his cock from when Lauren hiked it up. He soon developed an erection against Lauren's lap. Derrick was bright red in the face. He felt Lauren begin to lightly spank over his diaper while engaging in small talk with Jill. The two were becoming great friends. Lauren chose to spank lightly in order to humiliate Derrick even further. The idea was to put extra emphasis on the diaper that he wore and the sound that it made from the mild pats of her palm. PAT PAT PAT PAT "Yep, Derrick and I have a written agreement." TAP TAP TAP When we first started dating he mentioned his need to be spanked" PAT PAT PAT "I think he's starting to learn a thing or two from me." TAP TAP..... SMACK! OOOUCH! Derrick yelps. Lauren surprised him with a hard swat to his bare sit spot. "Sorry to break the conversation like that Jill, but Derrick was starting to grind his dick against my lap." Jill watched with fascination as she noticed Derrick hump Lauren's legs. "Does he ever cum on your knees?" "No, but he's gotten close. He hasn't been a good enough boy for me to let him cum on my lap. Maybe if he's a good enough boy during this spanking I'll let him cum on me at the end." Derrick was excited and tried his best to be good. He felt Lauren's weight shift as she reached for the brush. "Okay, Derrick, no more light pats to your diaper." Derrick felt her gently push him off of her knees. "Let's bare that butt!" Derrick slid off and landed on all fours, his pants were at his knees. "Say hi to our new friend Derrick. Look her in the eyes and shake her hand." Derrick turned and shook Jill's hand. His boner grew when he realized how pretty she was. Her long blonde hair ran down her shoulders and she had big blues eyes and a friendly face. "Nice to meet you diaper boy," she says to him with a grin. "I would love to chat but it looks like Lauren wants to bare that butt of yours!" Lauren pulls Derrick between her thighs and brings him in close. "Let's get this diaper off shall we?" Derricks face is bright red as he kneels in front of his girlfriend. "Put your hands on your head, just like during a diaper change" Lauren begins to untape the front tabs when Derrick suddenly reaches down. "No! She'll see me! Cant you take them off while I'm on your lap? PLEASE!" Jill giggled at the sight. Lauren grabbed his hand and put it back on top of his head. "Absolutely not Derrick. Frontal nudity is part of your punishment and you'll learn to accept that. If you act out again then you can forget about cumming on my lap later. Do you understand me?" Derrick looked down helplessly at his thick and nearly unfastened diaper. "I'm sorry Miss, I won't act up again." Lauren rubbed his hips "Good boy." Jill smirked and stared. "I can't believe he's embarrassed at the thought of me seeing him naked. I've already seen you get spanked in a DIAPER Derrick!" The girls laughed as Lauren untaped the last tab. She pulled the diaper out from between his legs. "There you go baby, fresh air at last. How does it feel?" "Good Miss." Jill looked up and down at the dark red blotches that covered his bottom and thighs. She then noticed his very erect penis pointing straight up at Lauren. She squeezed her thighs together, resisting the urge to touch herself. "Alright Derrick, you know the drill. Get over my lap, don't make me pull you across." Derrick climbed up onto the bench and planted his naked body on her lap. Lauren reached between his legs and pulled his cheeks apart. Jills eyes widened as she had a full view of the back Derricks balls resting on Lauren's right thigh. Lauren grabbed at Derricks' waist and started to spank. His cheeks bounced and waddled as the sound of the smacking filled the store. Lauren wound up with the brush and brought it down hard on his tender bottom. "Derrick you have been such a naughty little brat today" SMACK SMACK SMACK "that bottom will be a deep crimson by the time I'm done with it!" SMACK SMACK Her intensity picked up as she spanked his naked bottom. Derrick moaned and whimpered and tried to keep his composure in front of Jill. Jill was consumed by Derricks bouncing and upturned bottom. She had never witnessed a spanking before and was amazed at how red Lauren was making his cheeks. She suddenly pictured Derrick laying over her own lap as he squirmed and rubbed his dick against her legs. Lauren noticed her curiosity. "So Jill, I was thinking you could come over to my house sometime" SMACK SMACK SMACK "Derrick and I would love to have you over for dinner." SMACK SMACK "I would love to, hopefully, Derrick can behave himself while I'm visiting. I'm sure he doesn't like people watching as he gets punished!" SMACK SMACK SMACK Lauren slowed down the pace a bit as she spoke "If you come over within the next two days he'll be spanked no matter how well he behaves. That's the glory of his diaper punishment, I get to spank him every night before bed." SMACK SMACK Derricks legs kicked and wiggled, Lauren could tell he was in a lot of pain. "Alright, Derrick, just a few more smacks and then we're all done." Lauren ended with four hard spanks to Derricks sit spots. Derrick yelped and twisted on her knees. Jill sat and looked approvingly at Lauren's work "Wow, that looks like one sorry bottom you've got there Derrick. It's amazing how Lauren manages to smack the inside of your butt crack so well, she really knows what she's doing!" Lauren dropped the hairbrush into the bag and held her naughty boy in position. "The areas around the anus and inner thighs really make him jump." Lauren rubbed his soreness and ran her finger over his anus. "Okay Derrick, since you were so good during your spanking I'll let you cum on my lap, but no cumming on my jeans, I don't want you ruining them." Lauren let Derrick off her knees. Derrick got up and sat next to Lauren while she undid her belt and slid her tight jeans down to her knees. Derrick looked down at Lauren's bare lap, she was wearing bright pink panties. Derrick was about to explode. "The only reason I'm taking these off for you right now is because Jill closed the wing to the store. If customers were walking around then you wouldn't be so lucky. Why don't you thank her." Derrick looked over at Jill. Her zipper was undone and her hand was rubbing her clit. His jaw dropped as he stared at her crotch. Lauren smacked the top of his thigh with her belt to gain his attention. "What's wrong Derrick? You've never seen a lady touch herself?" Derrick straightened up and thanked Jill for closing the store. Jill gazed at Lauren as she pressed her bare thighs together and made a nice sturdy platform for Derrick. "Lay across." Lauren took his hand and gently guided Derrick over her bare lap. He thought of her panty covered vagina just centimeters away from his hard cock. He began rubbing up and down against her thighs as she held him in place. He felt Lauren smear some lotion on his burning red butt. "I may as well lotion your bottom while I have you on my knees, and we still need to change you into a fresh diaper." Lauren messaged his naked fanny and could feel his hardness rubbing against her legs. Lauren looked over and saw Jill gaze at Derrick as he humped her lap. She was still playing with herself. Lauren held him as he made his final thrusts. She felt Derricks cum spurt out and drip between her thighs. Derrick was breathing heavily, he lay limp and motionless. Just seconds after Derrick climaxed, Jill let out a high pitched moan. "Good boy Derrick. Did that feel good against my legs?" Derrick nodded and tried to catch his breath. "I think our new friend Jill is feeling pretty good too!" Jill smiled and turned red. "Sorry, I couldn't resist" Lauren laughed and told her it was okay. Lauren helped him up and cleaned off her messy lap. "Okay Derrick, we need to get you changed" Jill zipped up her pants and stood up. "There's a table he can lay on in the dressing room, follow me." Lauren stood and slowly pulled her jeans up over her curvy round ass. Derrick watched as the center seam of her skin-tight jeans hiked up into her butt crack as she pulled at the belt loops. Lauren looked back at him with a disapproving look. She slung the bag of supplies over her shoulder. "It's time to get changed Derrick, I don't want any problems from you." Derrick stood up and was dragged butt naked around the corner to the dressing rooms. They passed a set of mirrors and Derrick caught a glimpse of his bruised and welted backside. Jill led them to a large table with clothes piled on top. "There should be plenty of space to change him in here. The table is meant for folding clothes but I think it would be perfect for him to lay down on." Lauren led Derrick to the corner and helped Jill clear off the clothes. "Thanks again for your help, this table will work nicely." The girls cleared away the clothes as Derrick waited with his nose in the corner. "Okay Derrick, we're ready for you" Derrick turned around. The table was cleared off and a large beach towel lay spread out on top. Lauren stood on one side and Jill stood on the other. Lauren had stacked two diapers on the table and placed the powder and the wipes next to them. "Hop up on the table Derrick." Derrick sat on the table and slid his sore butt onto the towel. Lauren placed her hand on his chest while her other hand supported the back of his neck. She gently guided his head down to the table and gave him a kiss. "Are you ready for your diapers Derrick?" His face was red and looked over at Jill. She was standing over him looking over his naked body. "Does she have to be here for this?" Lauren looked him in the eyes. "Yes Derrick, and I might let her help if you don't start behaving yourself." Derrick whined. "Fine, I'm sorry Miss" Lauren opened the lotion and began rubbing derricks crotch. "Spread your legs a bit more baby, I need to get all of those creases." Jill watched as Lauren coated Derricks privates with gobs of lotion. His legs were spread out wide and his hands were on his head. She noticed that his dick was getting hard again. After the lotion, Lauren lifted Derricks' legs and coated his spanked bottom with baby powder. Jill sat on the table next to Derricks' head and watched as the powder covered his bottom and penis. After the powder was rubbed in, Lauren unfolded the diaper and placed it under Derricks' bum. "I'm going to double diaper you today because you've been such a brat!" Lauren lifted the diaper over Derricks erect penis and taped the sides snug. After the second diaper was fastened Derrick was told to stand up. Lauren helped him put his sweats back on and smacked his butt one last time for good measure. Lauren and Jill exchanged phone numbers as they were leaving the store. Derrick couldn't help but to feel excited for Jills visit to the house. Although his spankings hurt and the diapers are humiliating and hot, he knew that he was in love with his new girlfriend. Chapter 9 Dinner At Lauren's Jill pulled up to Lauren's yellow house and walked down the cobblestone road just as Derrick had done not long ago. The sun was just going down as she knocked on the door. It was just yesterday that she had witnessed Derricks humiliating diaper punishment at the mall. She felt that Lauren had opened up a new door full of exciting opportunities. She was surprised at how horny she had become while watching Lauren smack Derricks bottom. There was something about seeing a grown man propped up across a female lap that made her want to touch herself. Ever since the day at the mall she has been wanting to spank a naughty boy of her own. And who could forget the diapers? Having the power to keep a grown boy wrapped up in a thick baby-like disposable diaper made Jill curious and all the more horny. She couldn't help but feel jealous of Lauren and Derricks relationship. Lauren opened the door and immediately threw her arms around Jill and gave her a big hug. "Jill! I'm so glad you could make it. Come on in!" Jill followed Lauren into the kitchen. She suddenly noticed how tall and beautiful Lauren looked. The smell of fresh tomato sauce and garlic made her mouth water. "It smells great in here! You have a beautiful home." Lauren stirred the boiling water on the stove and checked the oven. "Thanks! I hope you like spaghetti, it's one of Derricks favorites!" "I love spaghetti! And where is that naughty boy anyway?" Jill said with a laugh. "That's a great question" Lauren called for Derrick to come downstairs. Jill's heart beat faster as she heard his footsteps coming down the stairs. She couldn't wait to see his thick diapers again. Derrick turned the corner to the kitchen. He had gym shorts on but it was very obvious that he was diapered underneath. She could also see the white color of the diaper sticking out from his waistband. Lauren glanced at him and put a hand on her hip. "What did I tell you about wearing shorts in the house Derrick?!" She let out a frustrated sigh and stormed over to Derrick and quickly pulled his pants down. Derrick frantically apologized as she made him step out of his shorts. "I...I'm sorry! I was just embarrassed!" Jills eyes were glued to the thick diaper. She noticed it was yellow and drooping at the crotch. She giggled at the sight which made Derrick cover the front of his padded crotch. His face was bright red as Lauren scolded him. Lauren tossed the shorts away and smacked his diapered bottom. THUMP THUMP THUMP Lauren's hand left a big dent in the center of Derricks puffy and plump diaper. "I think that little stunt just earned you 50 extra swats with the hairbrush tonight!" After the smacks, Lauren ran her hand over his yellowed crotch and then spun him around and pulled at the back of his waistband. Jill giggled as Lauren peered into the back of his diaper. "Did he mess them!?" Lauren let go of the waistband and hiked up Derricks Diaper. "Not yet... although I'm expecting a messy diaper tonight. He hasn't pooped all day! I think these wet diapers will be staying on until that happens!" Jill leaned against the counter and took it all in. The scene was so domestic. Lauren was wearing a polka-dot apron on over skin tight yoga pants and a low cut t-shirt. Lauren grabbed the wooden spoon and went to stir the sauce on the stove, leaving Derrick in the middle of the kitchen dressed in nothing but a soggy diaper and a t-shirt. At this point Derricks face was bright red. He looked down at the hardwood floor and sulked. Lauren looked over her shoulder at Derrick. "Derrick... Say hello to our guest and then set the table. Dinner is almost ready." Derrick looked up at Jill. She was wearing tight faded blue jeans with holes at the knees and a blue shirt that showed off her breasts. Her long, blonde hair hung down past her shoulders as she looked into his eyes. Derrick said hello and then got busy with the table. The girls talked in the kitchen as he poured three glasses of water and set out the silverware. Every now and then he would glance up at the kitchen and see Jill staring at him with a grin on her face. After the table was set they all sat at the table. Lauren and Jill casually talked as they ate. Lauren told the story of how Derrick had asked to be put into diapers after passing the baby section at the grocery store. Jill laughed for the entire meal. Derrick finished his plate and listened to the girls talk. He had developed a rock hard erection as they spoke about him. He loved the attention, and Jill was clearly fascinated with their relationship. Derrick cleared the table as the girls remained at the table. Lauren grabbed at Derricks diaper and smiled. "You should try to poop soon Derrick, I know you have to. I'd like to clean you up before I spank you." Derrick blushed, but he could feel the pressure in his bowels as she spoke. "Yes Miss, I'll try." Lauren and Jill smiled. Lauren lightly pinched his thigh which made him jump a bit. "Good boy, now finish up in the kitchen and meet us in the family room so we can get those diapers off of you. Then you'll be spanked." Derrick gulped and complied. As he washed the dishes he squatted next to the sink and tried to poop. As he pushed, he let out a loud fart that was slightly muffled by the padding of the diaper. The girls in the next room went silent for a moment and then burst out laughing. Lauren and Jill bolted into the kitchen to watch as Derrick did his business. He squatted as he leaned against the counter. He was soon filling his diaper. The girls watched as the back of his diaper expanded and moved as it filled up. Derrick was crying with embarrassment. Lauren cupped her hand and grabbed the back of his diaper, bouncing the mess up and down and moving it around against his bottom. Jill was hunched over laughing but she soon held her nose as the smell escaped the diaper. Lauren gave him a smack. "Good boy Derrick, now wipe down the counters and meet us in the family room for diaper time!" Chapter 10 Wiped And Spanked "Derrick! Hurry up!" Called Lauren from the family room. "Yes Miss, I'm going as fast as I can!" Derrick scrubbed at the dishes in the sink. As he bent down to put the silverware and plates into the dishwasher, he could feel the big bulging lump pressing up and shifting against his bottom. He could hear the girls laughing in the other room. His dick was rock hard. He was both nervous and excited to be changed in front of Jill. She'd already witnessed a changing (and a spanking) at the mall, but that changing didn't involve pee and poop. A messy diaper change is at a whole new level of embarrassment and shame. Derrick scrubbed the last dish and took a deep breath. He had butterflies in his tummy. He knew his fate. Lauren would soon un-tape his dirty diaper and clean him up, and then he would be spanked across her lap like a naughty little child. His hard dick pressed firmly against the soiled diaper as he entered the family room. What he saw next surprised him. While he was doing the dishes, the girls had been transforming the rectangular shaped family room table into a changing station. Multiple layers of towels lay on the table and a pillow was placed at the end for his head. Lauren and Jill sat next to each other on the couch. Lauren was in the process of unwrapping a big package of disposable diapers as Jill gazed at Derrick with excitement in her eyes. Lauren looked up at Derrick and smiled. "Do you like our makeshift table, Derrick? If these diaper punishments become a frequent thing, then I think we'll have to invest in a big changing table for you. How does that sound baby?" Derrick blushed and fiddled with his t-shirt. Jill laughed at the site "Awww he's so nervous. I guess I would be too if I had a spanking and a poopy diaper change coming my way." The girls laughed hysterically as Derrick stood in his diapers. Lauren set a stack of three diapers on her lap and patted the surface of the table. "Lay down on the table like a good boy Derrick, it's time to clean you up and get you spanked!" "Yes, Miss," Said Derrick as he slowly sat on the table. He could feel the lumpy mess pressing further into his butt crack. Lauren quickly took the chance to pull his shirt off and toss it away. He was soon laying on his back looking up at the girls on the couch. He could feel the breeze on his nearly naked body from the ceiling fan above. His crotch and bum remained warm and squishy from the thick, soiled diaper. Lauren began un-tapping the diaper as Jill stood up to get a better look. Lauren unfastened the diaper and exposed Derrick. He felt the cool breeze of the fan against his erect penis. Jill stepped back from the table as she looked at the used diaper. "Ugggh that's fucking disgusting! What a dirty little boy!" Lauren giggled as she folded the poopy diaper and began wiping Derricks bottom with some baby wipes. "That's how I reacted last night after we got home from the mall. I checked his diaper and found poop, so I bit the bullet and changed him. At this point, it's just part of the punishment, and I know that it's the most embarrassing part for him." Jill held in a giggle and brushed her blonde hair from her face. "It must feel good to finally be out of those diapers for awhile Derrick. I can't imagine having to feel that bulk between my legs all day long." Jill had a point, Derrick thought. It felt great to feel the air on his privates, but in the back of his mind, he knew that he would be changed right back into another diaper with a hot bottom to go along with it. Jill stared at Derrick as Lauren lifted his legs up like a baby to wipe the entirety of his bottom. Jill noticed that his bottom was a light pink from when Lauren spanked him the day before. His freshly wiped anus was on full display to her and she noticed that his cock was still hard. "He doesn't seem too embarrassed judging by the state of his cock." Lauren smiled at Derrick as she let his legs down and spread them apart. "A certain part of Derrick enjoys being punished, but another part of him hates it. I can tell he's embarrassed by the color of his face, and how silent he's been." Jill looked at Derricks red face and giggled. "I just can't believe he asked for this. I really respect him for wanting a woman to take charge. Asking to be diapered and spanked must have been hard for him to do. You two are so cute together." Lauren pulled another wipe from the box and began cleaning his balls and penis. "It has been pretty amazing. The agreement we made really works out for us, and I know that he likes the attention." Derrick moaned as Lauren cleaned and stroked his cock. He spread his legs wide as he looked up at the two girls. Jill had the same look in her eyes from when they met at the mall. He could tell that she was turned on from all of this. Lauren seemed focused on cleaning his privates, which felt awfully good. "Okay, Derrick I think we're all done cleaning you up" Said Lauren as she scooted to the middle of the couch. "But you know the rules about diaper punishments. Now stand up and lay across my knees for your nightly spanking." "Yes, Miss" Derrick sat up and noticed Jill strategically sitting on the lounge chair to the right of the couch. He knew that she would have a perfect view of his perched up bottom. His penis was rock hard and pointed upward as he got to his feet. Derrick blushed as he approached his waiting girlfriend. He looked down at Lauren's toned thighs. He loved it when she wore yoga pants during his spankings. Lauren put her thighs together and lightly tapped the center of her lap. "Over you go little one." Lauren took his hand and pulled him down over her lap. She situated herself to make sure Derricks' bum was pointed straight up in the air and made sure that his legs were spread and resting on the couch. She could feel his hard dick begin to rub on her legs as she looked down on his backside. She realized that these spankings were starting to be routine, but she didn't mind. She was a spanko at heart. Jill looked excitingly at Derricks upturned bottom. His anus was exposed and his balls rested on Lauren's lap just like before. She couldn't help but to reach down and touch herself again. She watched as Lauren held onto Derrick and raised her right hand high over his bare bottom. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK The once quiet family room was suddenly filled with the sound of Lauren's hand swatting at the meaty flesh of Derricks bottom. Jill watched as Derricks cheeks continuously jiggled from the impact of Lauren's palm. Derrick rubbed up against Lauren as he always did. His bottom now starting to sting. He looked over his shoulder as he grabbed at Lauren's ankle. He could see Jill sitting with a grin on her face as she stared at his exposed reddening bottom. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK Lauren smacked repeatedly with her hand at a fast pace until his bottom was bright red. She made sure to get the sit spots and the tender parts. She felt that she was getting pretty good at dishing out spankings. SMACK SMACK SMACK "Are you ready to feel the brush, Derrick?" SMACK SMACK SMACK "Just remember that you earned fifty extra swats from that little stunt you pulled!" SMACK SMACK SMACK Derrick kicked lightly. His cock was still hard and he was busy humping her thighs. "No Miss. Not the brush. Please!" Lauren ignored him and quickly reached for the brush on the table to her left. She soon brought it up to full swing. CRACK WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! CRACK OWWWWW!!! CRACK "What's the matter, Derrick?" CRACK "Did your erection go away?" CRACK WHACK "PLEASE STOP!" THWHACK Lauren began hitting with full force. "I don't think so, mister!" THWACK "I decided to go easy on you last night because I spanked you in front of Jill at the mall." THWACK "But this is the way you should expect to be spanked on a nightly basis during diaper punishments from now on." THWACK THWACK THWACK "Now stop kicking your legs and be a good boy for me." THWACK THWACK THWACK Derrick squirmed and kicked and was soon crying like a baby. Lauren showed no mercy and made him count the 50 extra swats that he had earned earlier. Then she stopped and rubbed his hot and bruised bottom. She had covered every square inch of his bare butt with hairbrush welts. She ordered him off of her lap to stand in the corner. She and Jill were soon chatting and admiring the glow of Derricks apple red bottom as he tried to collect himself in the corner. Chapter 11 Bedtime For Derrick The girls chatted on the couch for quite some time. Discussions ranged from the latest chick flick to having lunch within the next few days. They were becoming great friends and found that they had a lot of similarities. Derrick continued to stand with his nose in the corner and his butt on display. He listened to the girls' conversation and could sense their eyes fixated on his spanked bottom. Soon he began to hear the distinct sound of a disposable diaper being unfolded behind him. He knew that a diaper change was in his near future but he didn't mind. He felt like he had been in time-out for over an hour but in reality, it had only been about 15 minutes. Lauren unfolded the diaper and decided to put two thick inserts into it. She loved using the inserts from time to time because of how thick and bulky they made the diaper. She felt that one insert was enough to make a significant difference, but two seemed to make it hard for Derrick to close his legs together. She loved seeing Derrick waddle around the house with a dramatically thick diaper on, and she figured Jill would get a kick out of seeing him like that too. Jill watched as Lauren placed the heavily padded diaper onto the table and set some baby powder down next to it. As they chatted she couldn't help but stare at Derricks plump little bottom in the corner. She knew that his red cheeks would soon be powdered and wrapped up with the cushy diaper that lay before her. When everything was ready, Lauren stood up from the couch and went over to Derrick. She gave his sore bottom a pinch as she gave him instructions. "Okay Derrick, time-out is over. I want you to come out of the corner and lay down on the changing table." Derrick turned and was soon face to face with Lauren. He looked into her eyes. She was an inch taller than him and she looked down on him with love and affection. He took a step towards her and suddenly felt her arms wrap around him in a loving embrace. Lauren spoke with a soft tone into his ear. "I'm sorry I had to give you extra swats tonight Derrick, but I had to correct you for wearing pants over your diaper earlier. Just remember that you only have one more day of this and then it's back to big boy undies. Okay?" "Yes Miss, I'm sorry for breaking the rules." Derrick felt warm and comfortable in her arms. His nose nestled into her neck and he could feel her hand start to rub his tender cheeks. Over Lauren's shoulder, he could see Jill sitting on the couch waiting patiently for Lauren to diaper him. Lauren soothed his burning butt for a few more seconds and then took his hand and led him to the table. "Up you go Derrick. It's diapers and bedtime for you. Jill and I are going to stay up and watch a movie while you're in bed." Derrick climb up onto the table. He felt left out for not being able to watch the movie with the girls. "Why do I have to go to bed so early? Can I please watch the movie with you guys?" "Absolutely not Derrick. The movie we're watching isn't appropriate for boys in diapers." Lauren said as she laid Derricks head down onto the pillow. "I don't want any fussing from you tonight. It's diapers and lights out. Do you understand?" Derrick let out a sigh. "Yes, Miss." He looked up at the girls once again from his embarrassing position. Lauren and Jill both knelt at the foot of the table as he lay butt naked with his legs spread out wide. The diaper felt soft and thick under his sore bottom. Jill had a smile on her face as she gazed at his erect penis. Lauren popped the cap off of a bottle of lotion and emptied a liberal amount into her palm. Jill watched as Lauren spread it onto her hands and then began messaging it into Derricks privates. Lauren ran the cool lotion over his hard cock and then down to his scrotum. Lauren soon lifted his legs and put lotion and powder on his burning hot bottom. Jill couldn't help but notice how proficient Lauren had become at changing diapers. She watched in fascination as Lauren quickly powdered his penis and balls and then brought the thick diaper up between his legs and taped it into place. She noticed that Derricks' hands were above his head and he looked away in embarrassment. "Good boy Derrick! Now, let's tuck you in for bed. Say goodnight to Jill! Lauren grabbed both of his hands and helped him off of the table. Derrick stood with a slight bow in his legs. The diapers were thicker than he had anticipated. "Goodnight Jill," Derrick said looking down in shame. Jill smiled at him. "I had so much fun tonight Derrick. Sweet dreams!" Lauren held onto his hand and started for the stairs. "I'll be right back Jill, I'm going to get him all settled in." Jill watched as Lauren led Derrick up the stairs. She giggled at the site of Derrick waddling up the stairs while holding onto Lauren's hand. "Take your time. I'll get the movie ready!" Lauren opened the door into her bedroom and pulled the sheets back from the bed. "Hop in baby, it's time for bed." Derrick moaned in protest as he climbed into bed. "Can I please watch the movie with you?" Lauren tucked him into bed and then climbed in behind him. She spooned him as she talked into his ear. "No baby, it's bedtime for you. I don't want to hear anything while we're watching. If I find you out of this bed, then I'll spank, is that clear?" "Yes Miss, I don't want another spanking." She kissed him on the neck and got out of bed. "I know you don't. Sweet dreams my love." Chapter 12 Confessions The third and final day of diaper punishment wasn't all that bad. Derrick watched cartoons and did homework while Lauren took some business calls in her office. She had a busy day of balancing work and phone calls with diaper changes. After dinner, she cleaned and spanked Derrick just as she had done routinely for the past two days. She was getting used to Derrick being diapered. She knew that she would miss the intimacy of the changes and the power she felt while spanking him on a nightly basis. The next morning Lauren changed him out of his diaper and graduated him to big boy undies. "I hope you learned your lesson from being diapered like a baby for the past three days," Lauren said as she helped him into his normal white underwear. "It must be weird not feeling the bulk of the diapers between your legs." Derrick agreed. For a moment he missed the bulk of the diapers, but it did feel good to be back in underwear. He was also looking forward to not being spanked tonight (if he could help it). The nightly spankings were really starting to take a toll. His bottom remained a deep shade of crimson throughout his entire diaper punishment. He was looking forward to recovering and being a good boy for a little while. After getting changed, Lauren walked into the kitchen and embraced Derrick. They kissed for a while until Lauren's phone buzzed on the counter. "That must be Jill," Lauren said as she picked up the phone and started texting back. Derrick admired Lauren's beauty. Her dark brown hair fell onto her tan shoulders elegantly. She wore a patterned tank top and black khaki shorts that revealed most of her thighs and hugged her round butt. She stopped texting and looked up at Derrick. "Isn't Jill great sweetie?" Derrick nodded. Part of him was still embarrassed with what Jill had seen. But he did like her and trusted her to an extent. She was also gorgeous. The thought of her watching him get spanked and diapered by Lauren admittedly turned him on. "We're thinking of grabbing lunch in a few hours at that taco place down the road. I figured we could walk around town for a while until then. What do you say?" Derrick happily agreed. "Sounds good to me!" Lauren and Derrick walked down the cobblestone road and turned onto the main street. It was hot outside which made Derrick thankful that he wasn't still in diapers. He did have to admit that a part of him did miss the comfort and the attention. These thoughts kept coming to the surface and he wasn't sure what to do with them. They walked past some stores and talked about work and school. Derrick had been excelling in his class work ever since he had started dating Lauren. She thought back to his first spanking. She had a pretty good idea of what caused the spike in his grades. Lauren's business was growing rapidly. She had recently boosted her online presence which naturally brought in more income. Lauren asked about Derricks living situation. Unfortunately, he hadn't been having a lot of luck finding a suitable place live. "Well you're basically already living with me, so why don't you just move in?" Asked Lauren. "I know I offered before, but I was serious. Just remember that you'll be in charge of the chores." Derrick paced along with her. He watched her long, bare legs strut down the sidewalk. "You're so good to me Lauren. I would love to live with you!" The couple stopped for coffee at a small shop and then continued their adventure. Lauren led the way into a large park with a giant pond in the middle. Trees and flowers grew everywhere along the path and the grass was bright green. After walking along the pond and looking at the fish, Lauren took Derricks hand and led him to a soft patch of grass. They both laid down next to each other. Lauren put her arm under Derricks' head and he cuddled close to her breasts. They gazed up at the clouds in silence. After a while, Lauren let out a sad and troubling sigh. "I have something that I need to get off my chest." Derrick propped himself up and looked into her eyes. "What is it? You can tell me anything." Lauren sat up and crossed her legs. "I already miss the diapers, Derrick. I know it's only been an hour or so since you've been out of them, but the thought of not changing you and taking care of you like that has been really getting me down." Derrick felt loved at that very moment. Lauren had missed taking care of him. A sudden warmth overcame his entire body. "So what do you want to do?" He asked in a thoughtful tone. Lauren put her hand on Derricks' knee. "I want to diaper you full-time Derrick. It wouldn't be a punishment, it would just be a new part of your life. These last three days have really made me notice how much I love being with you and caring for you." Derrick thought for a while as Lauren held her hand on his knee. "Wouldn't I lose control of my bladder and bowels after a while? I would be completely dependent on diapers..." Lauren stroked his face. "No Derrick, you would be completely dependent on me." Derrick looked into her eyes. The sun shone down through the trees and the wind blew her hair. "What about school? What happens when you're not there to change me?" Lauren brushed the hair off of her face. "I would let you wear pull-ups to school for low visibly, and I would let you change them in the stalls by yourself. Outside of school, you'll be placed in regular disposables and either Jill or I will be changing you." "Jill?!" Derrick asked in a panicked tone. "Why Jill?! I know she's seen you change me before, but I don't want her to change me! I only want you to change me!" Lauren was flattered but held strong. "She's become a close friend of mine, and I'll need some help with diaper changes while I work from home," Lauren said. "Just think of her as a babysitter Derrick. She and I discussed this during the movie when you were sleeping. She's very excited about it." Derrick thought about Jill changing him and looking after him. "Would you let her punish me too?" "I would Derrick. She has a good head on her shoulders and she'll follow all of the guidelines in our agreement. If it gets out of hand, then I'll be sure to put a stop to things. She really cares about you, Derrick." Derrick thought for a while and then let out an uncertain sigh. "Fine... I'll wear diapers. And I guess I'm fine with Jill watching me. But I'm only doing this because of you Lauren. You mean so much to me." He replied in a low voice. Lauren suddenly dove on top of him and embraced him in her arms. "THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!" Lauren straddled him and looked down at his face. "I love you, Derrick." Derrick looked up at her. His heart was beating fast. "I love you too." Chapter 13 Lunch With Jill Lauren and Derrick walked through the door to the restaurant and saw Jill waiting at a booth in the corner. She waved at them in excitement as they walked towards her. Jill gave Lauren a hug and then hugged Derrick afterward. They all sat down to look at the menu and soon ordered some drinks. Jill looked at the two of them anxiously. "So, how did it go?" Derrick could only imagine what she was asking about. He could tell that she really wanted in on their lifestyle and he knew she would be very happy to learn what the final verdict was. Lauren took a sip from her glass. "Derrick said yes to everything. He and I talked about it at the park earlier. All we need to do now is fill you in on our agreement." Jill bounced in the booth with excitement. "Good for you Derrick! You're such a good guy for being so understanding about Lauren's needs. I can't wait to start babysitting you while she is busy." Lauren smiled at him and put her arm around his shoulders. "Thanks again, Derrick. I know that it's going to be a big adjustment in your life, but Jill and I are going to be here for you at all times." Derrick felt comforted. He knew that Lauren and Jill cared about him. After going over the punishment agreement with Jill at the table, they all took a toast to their new commitment. After lunch, they parted ways and Lauren held Derricks' hand and walked down the main road again. "I think we should pick up some things from the store today Derrick. We have a busy day ahead of us." Derrick glanced over at her curiously. "Like what?" Lauren giggled at him. "Well, for starters we're going to need a lot of diapers. Then I was thinking we could look at some adult-sized changing tables. Since this is a permanent thing now, I think it would be nice to have an area in the house that specifically caters to your diapering needs." Derrick looked down in embarrassment. His new lifestyle would definitely take some getting used to. He thought about the daily routine of being changed on an actual changing table multiple times per day. "Is a table really necessary?" Lauren looked over at him. "It is very necessary Derrick. This is a big part of your life now and you'll be spending a lot of time having your diapers changed. Having a specific place for doing that is better than having to change you on my bed or on the floor. You should be excited Derrick, this is the first big step to your new life." "But that'll just make me feel like a big baby." Derrick mumbles. Lauren giggled at him. "This whole arrangement somewhat makes you a big baby, doesn't it? I was thinking, instead of you calling me Miss, you could call me Mommy. Would you do that for me, Derrick?" "And what would I call Jill?" "Her and I were talking about her role in all of this, and she wants you to call her Nanny. Are you comfortable with all of this Derrick?" Derrick held her hand tight. "Of course I am. It'll just take some getting used to. Are we starting all of this today?" Lauren smiled at him and then gave him a hug. "You can start calling me Mommy today, but you can enjoy your last day in big boy undies since you've been so good. Tomorrow we can throw out all of your underwear and replace them with diapers. Okay?" "Yes, Mommy," Derrick said obediently. Chapter 14 Back In Diapers For Good Derrick woke up the next morning to see Lauren stepping out of the shower. The steam rolled out of the doorway as she walked into the bedroom. "Morning sweetie!" Lauren said as she started to towel off. Her large breasts dripped with hot water as she smiled at him. "Are you excited for your diapers?" Derrick groaned and sat up in bed. "Yes, Mommy." Lauren finished toweling off and opened the drawers to the large dresser that they had been sharing. "Good boy, I guess we won't be needing any of these then!" Lauren began gathering his underwear and putting them into a large trash bag. Derrick watched her as she threw out his underwear. He admired her naked round ass and her toned thighs. Her long brown hair was wet and fell to the center of her back. Next to the dresser stood the new changing table that she had bought yesterday. The shelves below the large table were packed with disposable diapers. Many were out of the packaging and stacked on top of one another. Lauren finished with the dresser and turned to face Derrick. "Okay baby, I just need the ones that you're wearing now and that should be the last of them." Derrick fumbled under the covers as he pulled his underwear off. He handed them to Lauren and she tossed them in with the others. "Okay baby, hop into the shower and then call me when you finish. I'll make us some breakfast." "Yes, Mommy!" Derrick said as he climbed out of bed. As he walked to the bathroom Lauren playfully pinched his naked butt. "Your bruises are going away fast Derrick. I'll put some soothing cream on those cheeks during your diaper change. Have fun in the shower!" Derrick blushed "Thanks, Mommy! I will!" Lauren set the table and made a plate of pancakes. The morning sun cast into the kitchen as she sat at the table and sipped her coffee. Upstairs she could hear the shower shut off. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and waited for Derrick to call down to her. She was excited to start changing diapers again. A few minutes later Derrick yelled down to Lauren. "I'm finished!" Lauren stood up from the table and put her paper away. She then climbed the stairs and went through the doorway to the bedroom. She was pleased to see Derrick laying on the changing table with his legs in the air. "You're such a good boy for being ready for Mommy!" Lauren said as she approached the table. Lauren put the side railing up on the table and noticed that Derricks dick was rock hard. She spread his legs out far and wide and stroked his cock for a while. "I think it's only fair that I let you make cummies during your first diaper change. What do you say?" "Yes, Mommy!" Derrick said in excitement. Lauren laughed and rubbed his cock a little faster. Derrick started to moan as he stared up at her. He was moments from cumming when she suddenly let go of his dick. She giggled at the disappointment she saw in his face. "Aww Derrick, don't worry. That was just a warm-up. I'll have you cumming in no time!" "But Mommy!" Derrick said in a pouty voice. Lauren lifted his right leg and playfully smacked his rear. "No pouting little boy or there will be no cumming at all. Understand?" Derrick moaned in frustration but he acknowledged her respectfully. "Good boy." Said, Lauren, as she grabbed a fresh diaper from the shelf beneath and began to unfold it. She then grabbed a diaper insert and put it into place. Derrick watched the process, knowing that this would be the first of thousands of diapers that she would change him into. The thought was surreal. Pretty soon this would all become very routine, like putting clothes on in the morning. Lauren grabbed his ankles and hoisted them into the air. "Bottoms up little boy!" She soon slipped the thick diaper under his bottom. She let his butt down but still held his legs in the air. "Now it's time for your soothing cream. This spanked butt needs some moister ASAP!" Lauren let go of his ankles and told Derrick to keep his legs high in the air. She then squeezed a glob of lotion into her palm and began rubbing his pink bottom. "Spread your cheeks and stick your butt out for Mommy, you know how I like to spank your tender areas." Derrick complied. This was one of the most embarrassing positions he had ever been in. His anus was in full view as he held his parted legs against his chest. He could feel her soft fingers spreading the cool lotion right up to the edge of his anus. He then heard her pull a baby wipe from the box and he suddenly felt the coolness of the wipe pass over his butt hole. Lauren noticed his embarrassment and giggled at him. "There we go! All clean. Now it's time for some powder. Keep your legs spread just like that for me while I powder your bottom. I know it's an embarrassing position, but Mommy is going to be seeing your exposed little anus every single day. It will be good to get into a routine like this early on, that way you'll know what's expected of you" "Yes Mommy," Derrick said with a red face. Lauren laughed a bit as she powdered his lotion covered bottom. "Just think that this will soon become a morning routine for the both of us. I think you'll get used to being butt naked and exposed on the changing table in no time. In a few weeks this won't be as embarrassing, I promise." Derrick looked away. He could smell the baby powder as Lauren coated his bottom and penis with it. He has been through plenty of changes during his diaper punishment, but none of those had taken place on a large changing table. Lauren let his legs down flat on the soft table and began to stoke his powdered cock. His legs tensed as he felt close to orgasm. He knew it wouldn't take long to cum. Lauren continued stroking as she began to lift the diaper between his legs. He could feel the bulk tightening under his scrotum while she pumped his cock. Finally, he let out a moan and his cum spurted out onto his belly. Lauren quickly folded the diaper up between his legs and held it there, smiling down at him. "Diapers feel good, don't they Derrick?" Derrick breathed heavily out of his nose. He was in pure ecstasy. He could only nod to Lauren in agreement. He heard another baby wipe being pulled from the box and soon felt Lauren cleaning up the cum on his tummy. "I'll have you wrapped up tight in no time baby boy. And then we can go eat some pancakes." Derrick looked up at Lauren with joy. The bulky, soft diaper spread his legs out wide as Lauren taped the sides shut. He knew that he would be walking with a waddle for the rest of the day. After checking the creases of the diaper, she helped him off of the table. Lauren stood him up and patted his diapered butt. "Good boy Derrick. Now let me know when you need to be changed next. Let's go eat." Derrick waddled down the stairs as Lauren followed him, patting his bottom and giggling all the way to the kitchen table. Chapter 15: Not Clever Enough! Derrick scrubbed at the dishes in the sink as the morning sun pierced through the windows. Lauren had taken a business call just as they had finished eating, which left Derrick to his morning chore routine. He felt cozy and snug in his thick diaper. He waddled throughout the kitchen and took comfort in the crinkle sound that his diaper made with each step he took. The new diapers that Lauren had bought seemed ten times bulkier than the ones he wore for his punishment. It seemed that it was nearly impossible to put his legs together. As he finished cleaning the last dish, he felt the sudden urge to pee. He thought about the bathroom for a moment, and how his new life restricted him from using the toilet. He knew that it would take time to adjust to his new life. The whole situation seemed so surreal to him just then. He was still able to hold his bladder, but he knew that he would soon lose control of everything. He knew that it was only a matter of time. Derrick stood there for a moment and looked down at his extra padded crotch. His Dick was hard and it pointed up towards his belly. He knew that if he wet himself, the majority of his pee would end up shooting upward rather than absorb into the thick material. Lauren had told him over breakfast that he was prohibited from reaching inside or fiddling with his diaper, but he decided to take actions into his own hands to avoid a potential mess. Derrick could hear Lauren in the other room as he grabbed at the waistband of his diaper. He ducked into the hallway to avoid getting caught doing what she had specifically told him not to do. He knew he had to act quickly, as the pressure in his bladder was building fast. He began pulling on the waistband to gain access to his dick. He opened it enough to reach his hand down. By that time, his dick was semi erect which made pointing it downward much easier. As soon as his penis was pointing downward, he began to piss himself. He felt the warm stream of pee soak into the thickness, and could hear the fluid running through the cushioned material. The warm wetness seeped between his thighs and made his diaper sag and thicken considerably at the crotch. His dick was hardening again, and soon realized that his hand was still tucked inside; holding his penis down as if he were using a urinal. Derrick had wet his diaper plenty of times during his punishment, and he had always gotten erections from doing it. He had mastered the art of tucking his dick into the diaper to avoid the mess, or so he thought. Just as he was taking his hand out, he heard a subtle snap and felt the waistband loosen around his waist. Derrick panicked as he looked down at the broken tape. He noticed that the adhesive had taken a lot of the plastic off of the surface of the diaper, which left a very noticeable blemish. He stood in the kitchen, helplessly weighing his options. He thought about coming clean to Lauren about reaching into his diaper and fiddling with it. He knew that he had the best of intentions while doing it, but it would be hard to convince her, especially after she had just given him strict boundaries as to where his hands were and weren't supposed to be. He then thought about refastening the soiled diaper. He knew that the tapes on the diapers he wore allowed him to peel away the used tape which left another sticky surface. He knew that Lauren would discover that upon his next diaper change and soon dismissed the idea completely. The last option he thought of was to run upstairs and change into a fresh diaper. He then thought about hiding the soiled diaper at the bottom of the trashcan in the garage. He knew it was risky, but it was the only way he could think of that wouldn't land him across Lauren's lap. He knew that what he had done was a spankable offense no matter how good his excuse was. He had really been looking forward to a break from spankings, especially after receiving so many during his diaper punishment. He thought about sitting on a freshly spanked bottom again with the added fact that he was currently being changed into diapers much thicker than the ones before. He knew the extra bulk would undoubtedly make things more uncomfortable for him down there. That thought alone was enough to make him act. Derrick waddled/ran up the stairs and into the bedroom. He could no longer hear Lauren talking on the phone which made him want to speed things up even more. He quickly unfastened all of the tapes and rolled up the soggy diaper. He placed the heavy, warm diaper on the changing table and reached underneath to grab a fresh one. He crouched down and searched for the one Lauren had changed him into earlier. Lauren had picked up so many different kinds of diapers, and he knew that she would be able to tell the difference if he were to pick the wrong brand. There were stacks and stacks of diapers that were out of their packages and they all looked very similar in thickness and color. He finally found one with matching tapes and quickly unfolded it. He then fit the diaper with and insert and stepped over the it. He brought it up between his legs, and soon found it hard to tape it in place properly while standing up. He then looked over at the changing table and thought it would be easier to change himself laying down. He moved the soiled diaper to the floor and climbed up onto the table. He couldn't believe that he had an erection as he slid the thick diaper under his bottom. He moved at a rapid pace, pulling the thickness up in-between his legs, spreading them out just like before. He began taping one side after the other. His heart sank when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "Derrick, honey where are you? Did you use your diapers yet?" Lauren said as she turned the corner into the bedroom. Derrick froze as Lauren walked through the door. "Ma.. Ma.. Mommy... I can explain!" He was still laying on the table and his hands were caught midway through fastening the last tape on the diaper. Lauren's jaw dropped as she saw what was happening before her. She noticed the wet diaper on her carpet and the shocked and fearful expression on Derricks face. Without saying a word, Lauren paced angrily toward the table and picked up the soiled diaper from the floor and threw it in the diaper pale at the foot of the table. She then forcefully pulled Derricks hand away and began un-taping his diaper. Derrick watched his girlfriend in fear as she pulled the diaper away from his crotch. He had never seen her like this before. Every movement she made was with confidence and purpose. Without hesitation, Lauren hoisted Derricks legs up in the air, exposing his bare bottom just as she would do if she were powdering him during a diaper change. This "legs up" position wasn't just used for powdering naked bottoms in Lauren's house, it was also used to spank. Lauren pressed Derricks legs down closer to his chest, forcing most of his weight onto his shoulder blades. The sudden shift in weight forced his bottom to lift off of the table. Lauren placed her left arm over the backs of Derricks thighs, and began raining down smacks to his naked bottom with the palm of her hand. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
  16. 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!?
  17. 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!”
  18. 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."
  19. 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...
  20. 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
  21. 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.
  22. 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!
  23. 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...
  24. 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.
  25. 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.
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