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Rheum for Change I woke up suddenly, something had jolted me awake but I didn’t know if it was something physical or mental that was the cause. I opened my eyes and peered around my bedroom but it was strange, everything looked like it was bathed in mist. I assumed my eyes must have been filled with sleep’s residue and ran my fingers over my face eventually landing with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand pressed in to the tear ducts and gently scooped out the little bit of crusty sleep that I was sure caused my temporary loss of clear vision. There was something else – as I’d ran my hand over my face it felt wet, as if I’d been crying but try as I might, that sudden leap from unconscious thought and heavy sleep into wakefulness had killed off whatever had been going on in my head moments earlier. Still, there was still some sticky residue in the corners of both eyes which was taking a bit of effort to dislodge. Just as I finished I felt a yawn coming on and switched from eye contact to a stretch that seemed to take in my entire body. I opened my eyes and was surprised to see the mistiness had not changed and a quick re-rub didn’t alter anything... so why was my room like a line drawing? I did a quick audit – my bedding was still the same, although it faded towards the foot of it. I could make out the outlines of the wardrobe, the desk and the dresser, all of which are large and sturdy as I’ve stubbed my toe against each piece at some time or other. I could make out the curtains flapping slightly as a breeze made its way through the slightly open gap, but even all that looked like a line-drawing and nothing solid. Lastly, I checked myself. I sleep in the nude, apart from underpants, so reached down and ran my hand over the stretchy, soft cotton fabric that was nicely hugging my cock and balls. As I pulled away the duvet I looked the same physically though perhaps slightly paler than normal. I try to keep a healthy-looking tan but that had faded like everything else. Oddly, my white briefs stood out against the rest of the washed-out room and fairly gleamed their bright independence. Not only that but they looked loose and I never wear loose fitting undies so that was strange. Also, my muscles had, like the rest of my physique, seemed to have paled and not be as prominent. Indeed, they gave the impression to have settled back into my rather slim body. I haven’t been that slim since I was ten... I’m now twenty...erm... # I eased myself, well, to be honest, I uneasily eased myself out of bed and tried to get a grip on the situation. I noticed the outline of the full-length mirror and thought I’d check myself out but all I saw was a bleached outline... it might have been me it might have been a ghost? There were two eyes, well, black outlines of eyes staring back and a shadow of where my mouth should be, other than that there were no other details at all. This was all very strange; it was like I was caught up in a drawing that hadn’t been finished, or maybe was only just being started. In fact, it looked like only faint outlines had been drawn of whatever the artist had intended. Some areas further away looked like an eraser had been taken to it and was being rubbed out as I watched - an initial outline that the artist wasn’t yet pleased with. I turned back to view my bed and that too had faded to just a sketch, the pattern on my duvet just a bleached indistinct pile. What the hell was going on still escaped me but I looked down at my own body to see if I was also fading away. There was no doubt something was happening, I looked washed out except for my briefs, which still looked pristine and sparkling white but also about ten sizes too big. I was holding them up so were they getting larger or were my hips getting smaller? I tentatively left my room, was this the same everywhere or only...? Yes, the landing that led to my parent’s room, the bathroom and the spare room had disappeared to a blank sheet, not even outlines... nothing. All I could see was me and my immediate surroundings but they were also just dull versions of what once was there. # I was standing at the top of the stairs and felt a wobble, my legs seemingly unsteady for a brief moment. As I reached out to steady myself by using the wall my underpants slipped to the floor, the elastic in the waistband no longer strong enough to hold them up. I took a moment to let the weird feeling that washed over me pass but try as I might I could only just make out the stair case. This was strange because I’ve lived in this house all my life and I know there are two steps down to a small landing and then another thirteen stairs down to the ground floor, and yet I couldn’t see downstairs it was just another white mass. A clear page that had yet to be drawn on. However, once I’d supported myself and felt able to continue I looked back and that had also just become an empty area and the only option was to go down the flight of almost invisible stairs. I reached down and picked up my shiny underpants, convinced that there was something important as to why they were still the only thing that had any shape or dimension or bulk to them. However, I was now naked, nervous and unsure what my next move should be. Cautiously I checked that there was a stair there, it was so faded I was worried I’d plummet into some kind of snowy abyss, thankfully my foot, which I could hardly make out, stepped onto something solid. That was scary but promising. The distance felt huge, had the steps got steeper, it was unnerving? With each furtive slow stride down I began to feel my body tremble, was it nerves or was there change? My mind slipped back to when I was little and used to cheekily descend the stairs in a similar silent fashion after my bedtime. If caught pretended I just wanted a drink - a strange thing to think about under the circumstances. Off in the distance I could hear someone singing, it was a light female voice sounding happy. I stood trembling, as I had as a child, half way down and felt feint. I wasn’t sure I could go on but inspecting behind there was nothing there. I had to keep going but each step now seemed a massive distance to climb down and despite the cheery singing, the unknown was daunting. # Despite the lack of any definition I knew I was about halfway down the staircase and that, with another half dozen steps I’d reach the hallway where, to the left led to the living room, whilst turning right would take me into the kitchen, which is where the singing was coming from. Each step down was becoming more and more difficult; the distance made me unsteady as I hesitantly stretched my foot down to the next one, each time I wobbled so tried to steady myself against the wall. It seemed a giant empty space I was negotiating until my foot finally hit something solid to stand on but then I had to negotiate the next and the next. Meanwhile, the bright white of my underwear I still grasped tightly in my hand, felt as if in some way it was acting as my protector. It didn’t light the way but was the only solid item I could identify. The singing got louder and I felt a chill, as if someone had opened a door and a breeze had been let loose. Suddenly the singing stopped and I could hear the noise of appliances and the general sound of a kitchen in use – things being moved, pots clattering together, cupboard doors being opened and closed. With one final and immense step I reach level ground and the faint line drawings began to become more substantial. I looked back and the stairway had all but disappeared and there was no sign of there ever having been an upstairs. Yes the outline of the front door was taking shape as was the door to the living room but off to the right, the kitchen door was half open and more robust. In fact, I could see more of a kitchen where a table and chairs were visible... and looked fairly solid. I stepped forward still holding my bright white underpants tightly and cautiously pushed the door open. As more of the kitchen was revealed its colourful interior was revealed, everything became more solid, warmer and more inviting. When the door had completely opened I could see a young woman in her mid-twenties washing pots at the sink. To begin with she was just humming a tune to herself and hadn’t noticed my sudden appearance. I wasn’t sure if I knew her or not so was a bit reluctant to make myself known. However, she looked around and saw me standing in the doorway and a huge smile spread across her face in happiness. “There she is, my little princess...” (princess?) She wiped he hands on her apron and moved towards me. I wasn’t sure what to do and made to step back but instead simply rocked on my heels and fell on my bare bum. “Oh sweetheart be careful...” she came over picked me up and hugged me tightly as she saw I was confused at what had just happened. Then it hit me; how come she could pick me up so easily but had no time to think. “... sweetpea, you must stop losing your nappies like this.” It was only then I remembered I was naked. I offered her my underpants “Yes, yes sweetheart, your nappy is nice put it doesn’t keep you all nice and tidy when you wriggle out of it.” This was all very confusing because my briefs had become a large square of bright white material. My nappy? I was positioned on her hip, nappy held tightly in my grip, as she travelled over to a pile on top of the washer where she fluffed out a small piece of fabric. Within seconds, and the practised art of a professional, she had a fresh disposable up between my legs and was pulling tapes to hold it in place. Next, and with hardly any pause in the proceedings, she reached over and grabbed a pair of shiny white plastic pants with a pink ruffle and pushed my feet into them. With an equally well-practised shimmy they were up and over the padding in seconds. “There, that should keep my little nakid rambler all nice and tidy... for a while anyway.” Then, producing a dummy from her apron pocket, slipped it between my lips and set me back down on the kitchen floor on my cushioned bottom. Everything looked big, the padding I was sat on was fine and comfy but who was this woman and why was I... I... I still wasn’t sure what was happening. The warm kitchen, the lady’s smile, the comfy nappy and the sucky dummy all made me feel cosy. Was any of this real? Babble and dribble flowed from my mouth as I tried to speak, whilst at the same time I tried to maintain myself in the sitting position, which was taking some wobbly effort. “Mommy (mommy?) has got a new toy for her little lamb,” and placed a colourful object down in front of me which got my attention. I reached out and noticed my soft pudgy arms and small fingers trying to grab at the plastic thing now occupying my vision. I think I was happy now I had this ‘thing’ to play with although had no idea what it was. Mommy got down to my level and started helping me figure out what it was and what it did. It made a noise that had me giggling, whilst bits could be moved around which made different sounds. “That’s a moo cow,” she explained, “and that’s (another noise) a wittle piggy...” more giggles from behind the dummy, which I seemed to enjoy sucking. I reached out and pushed something and it made another noise. “Who’s my pudgy little sweetheart...?” A loving hand stretched out to help my hand push another big button’ “Naaayyy...that’s a horsey...” My entire focus was now on this wonderful thing. It was fun and had me giggling each time it made a noise when something was pressed or moved, which seemed to make mommy happy. “That’s my clever girl.” I joyfully bounced up and down in wonder. The padding so comfy, whilst the plastic pants rustled with each excited movement. I was transfixed. “Who’s mommy's cutest little sweetpea?” Apparently I was. # # #

@DailyDi@Elfy@Glennie @AwakenEvil@spoonchicken I just noticed in the last hour or so, that usually when i POST something, I USUALLY don't see the like Icons for my posts. I know that this is supposed to be this way, because why in heck would I wanna like my OWN content I posted? I figure if someone LIKES MY posts, then I would be able to LIKE theirs, but it NOW seems that I can LIKE Mine? That happened when I posted a response to a user question this afternoon. Second: Take a look this user: HERE. Person Posted THIS I noticed that his Reputation meter is in the RED (POOR) and also NEGATIVE 9? How the heck is that possible, unless someone can MARK a posting with a negative rating, as there is NO "dislike" button. Can negative actions/postings/warnings/etc affect the posters rating? For example, if someone was being an "asshat" and say said something inappropriate to Mikey, and he decides to take actions, can an admin actually "dislike" a post, or in assessing a penalty, LOWER the rep of an IDIOT that is being a fool, as sort of a SIGNAL that they have done bad things? Just Curious, as I have NOT seen negative Rep for a while, and well, both of these things are sort of related: If I make a good post, i want the like to mean that It was well received, and additionally, I don't want to do bad things that negatively impact this site, or anyone associated with it: If people wanna mess with the ban hammer, and start threatening any of you, well, I KNOW that you guys will deal with it effectively and decisively Just Curious Brian

The strangest thing I've ever done is to tie string around a Fisher Price dog, insert it rectally, masturbate, pull it out during...the time..and then diaper up. I was maybe 13. Sorry if to grapphic, delete if nasty. But it was a one time masterbatory experience. I wonder now how I didn't get an infection. Anyway, if I did that for diapers, others have done...odd...things too. Any anecdotes?