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Found 7 results

  1. Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female domination (some male) Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. For those readers interested or do not care about the warnings listed, please enjoy the following story or for the first story, go to the following link: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/86885-tell-me-more-a-diaper-dimension-story-chapter-7-complete/ Hey everyone! Welcome back and to the sequel of ‘Tell Me More.’ I’ve already mapped out the bulk of the story and it’s sitting at around seven chapters. I liked the symmetry from my previous story, and I think it’s just enough to get everyone into the story and be intrigued, but it’s not too long to frighten people away either from a lengthy read or a lack of time to do so. Additionally, as I will be going on a personal break, these chapters should be coming out pretty fast. As I said, there’s not a lot of them, and there’s enough time to pop them out almost every other day and still be fine, but just hold on and have some fun with this smaller tale. I’m here to tell you all that I think I’ve added in a nice ending to this story that I’m almost positive that many of you will like. Next, due to the break as well, there might be an extended period of time where I don’t post another story. I need to prepare for a few things personally or otherwise when I get back, not the least of which is the next story. In this light, I will be posting my next story options in the beginning of the following chapter. I will do my usual announcement of my next story during the final chapter, but with only seven chapters, there isn’t much time this go around, so definitely let me know as soon as possible if you want your opinion heard after the next chapter. Finally, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of this new story! Chapter 1: Hello Again I flipped over the toast for my morning breakfast sandwich I knew I was going to have to wolf down in the car again on my way to the office. It was already the top of the hour and the radio station switched to its next program already. A year ago, I would be listening to it in the office or on my way there, but such delays are just life when you’re the mommy of a regressed Little sometimes. Still trying to find some normalcy in my already chaotic morning though, I listened to the next familiar DJ coming on. “Good morning, Losantiville! I’m Carl95 and you’re listening to LDN, channel 109.6, direct from studio 74! Our latest story: it’s almost been one year since the indictment began regarding the Juventas incident. All reports from the company say that everything has been resolved and that no further incidents should occur. However, we’ve been receiving reports of numerous regressions all across the region. The story and your thoughts in the next hour.” The front doorbell then rang, just as I was able to wrap my sandwich up to go after taking a few bites of it first. I hurried over and opened the door. “Oh, there you are Tammy! I got so worried when you didn’t show this morning at your usual time.” I was already late, but I could clearly see the teenage girl was flustered and freaking out a smidge. It was also very unlike her to be late these mornings, so donning my therapist cap already, I changed my tone and my approach to the babysitter. “It’s okay. My first appointment is usually pretty late themselves and I’ve built in some buffer time lately anyway.” Tammy seemed relieved but also nodded sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry, Doctor M. I tried driving here as fast as I could but one of the main routes over here now has a massive pile-up. Some Little protest I think.” “Oh?” I knew it was the route I had to take myself to get to my office downtown. I knew full-well from other days that if I had taken it, I would have definitely been very late to see my first patient of the day. I hated starting out like that, so I was already feeling a little better with her arrival this morning. “Thank you for telling me, Tammy. I knew there had to be an explanation and now, I can avoid that way and still make it to see my first patient.” Tammy smiled and I could see her flustered state continue to ease up a bit. I knew that Vincent would appreciate that. “You’re welcome for letting you know Doctor M but thank you for not being upset as well. I promise that I’ll make sure to leave extra early tomorrow.” “I appreciate that, Tammy. You can hang up your purse like you usually do.” I then let her hang up her purse on the nearby coatrack peg, just in case to ensure it was out of reach of Vincent’s recently grabby hands. Once attached, I then gestured to her into the kitchen. “Come on. I still need to pour my coffee and Vincent could use a friendly face this morning.” Tammy nodded and followed behind, quickly snapping into her dutiful babysitter role in seconds. She was truly a lifesaver with the way my career had been taking off lately. Sensing my tension this morning, she was quick to ask, “Oh? Everything okay with the little man today?” I nodded as we passed into the kitchen where Vincent was still sitting in his highchair. Evidence of at least one incident this morning still remained at least smeared over his bib. “Overall, yes, but he was a little fussy with breakfast. A few other bits as well, but I think he’s just grumpy in general. You know how Littles can get in the morning sometimes…” Tammy nodded and instantly went over to greet him. Gratefully, he was smiling seconds after seeing her. I still wondered if she ever had figured out his real identity or not, but I was just glad they got along so well. Vincent and I shared a bond, but beyond my receptionist, Carol, or Tammy, he seemed to dislike most other Bigs. Getting him into daycare had proven ultimately futile because of that, but to my relief, Tammy still seemed to appreciate her work here though. I then poured the steaming pile of coffee into my thermos, added a little cream, and then grabbed the other half of my breakfast sandwich and my bag with all my files in it of the patients I was going to see today. “Okay,” I said, finishing my last checks to ensure I had packed everything away. “I think that should do it. I’m going to be awhile today, but I’ll check in like usual when I can just to make sure everything is still okay.” “You got it, doc,” Tammy said, already knowing the morning routine by heart and getting Vincent’s morning bottle ready. I knew from my own time spent with him most weekends that he would soon be enraptured in his bottle while watching Adventure Sam. It was a little above his intellect I think, but I was still worried that some shred of his mind remained buried under the surface. I guess in a way, I hoped that if I ever found myself in that situation, that someone would take pity on me as well and provide me some stimulation beyond a mere plush toy. I sighed and leaned over to give Vincent a little hug and peck on his forehead. “Bye-bye, Vincent. I’ll see you tonight. You be good for Tammy now, okay?” “Mamamama!” he babbled out back to me in glee. It was one of the few decipherable words I could make out from him and even that had been an uphill struggle last year when he showed some signs of improvement from his initial regressed state. The courts had sent an LPS agent to check on us and she seemed less than enthusiastic that he had shown any progress, due to his punished state, but without any further progress beyond maybe an eleventh month old at best, she still hadn’t sent in a negative report about us. Making my way to the hallway, he then began to fuss a bit, likely recognizing that I was once again leaving him for the day. Satisfied that Tammy would take care of any of his needs or fussiness though, I continued outside and closed the door behind me. I smelled the fresh lilacs in my front garden, sighed over the lateness of the morning, and then just got into my car. Before starting my car up though, I crossed my fingers and just hoped there wouldn’t be any other delays this morning. Finally in the car and driving pleasantly away to my office, I flipped on my radio. Carl95 was still talking about the Juventas incident from last year and was just finishing up with the last of his opinionated callers. “… I can’t believe the city hasn’t done more! I pay taxes to the government living here and we have an absolute crisis on our hands. My next-door neighbor used to be great at grilling and just to hang out with him to watch some of the track and field events. I mean, the Olympics are only a few months away, but now… the dude can barely pass a ball back and forth. No tricks, traps, or extra dosages, and I don’t care what anyone says from the hospitals down in the Carolusa’s. He doesn’t have maturosis. It’s this city and that darned Juventas.” There was a bit of a pause on the radio. What he said was nothing new and even as I drove into the main part of the city today, I could already see the PSA billboards talking about getting checked with your local doctor if you saw any unusual symptoms. “Well, thank you Frank for that… spirited response,” Carl95 responded flatly. “We’ll take callers in the next few minutes, but first, I would just like to give a huge shoutout to Dr. Trisha Mengell.” Drinking my coffee, I almost spit it out on my front windshield at the mention of my name. I still wasn’t used to all the attention I had been getting recently. “This fine doctor has been called the angel of our city, and I for one think that’s an apt title. Her work with Littles from not only our city but the rest of the state affected by all these recent outbreaks of regression is nothing short of amazing. By now, I’m sure we’ve all known someone affected by the outbreak, and I know this city is far better off with her presence in it. So, thank you, Dr. Mengell. I’m sure you’re out there helping another Little as I even speak now.” I quickly shut off my radio. It wasn’t that I minded all the press and publicity I had encountered recently, but I knew I had to focus on my patients today. Unfortunately, I was still reminded that after the mayor had even given me an achievement award for all my success in the previous last December, I had been distracted and I missed the distress of one of my patients that day. A car accident and one broken arm later, I still couldn’t shake the guilt from the distracted triumph that I had basked in back then. So, if it was even possible, I had tried to help even more patients since then. Regardless and refocusing, entering my office, I was just glad that the lobby finally stopped smelling of fresh paint and that three other tenants had subsequently moved in around me in the past year. Most were understanding of my practice at the end of the upper hall, and some had even referred some of their Little clients to me when one showed possible signs of regression. My approach, once thought of as fanciful well-wishing, had taken the city and even state by force. If it continued more like it had been this year so far, I was seriously considering adding a partner to my practice as well. Any more clients in desperate need of my help would take away my time from Vincent, and despite him spiking and regressing all his coworkers last year at Juventas and getting punished for it, as his mommy, I just couldn’t do that to him. Finally, I made it upstairs and walked into my office. Inside, I could see that Carol was already there, which was good because I could also see that Carmen and Kathy had also arrived. Carol was currently distracting the mentally younger Carmen while Kathy tenderly looked on. Carol quickly noticed me entering. “Oh, hey boss. Carmen was just getting a little restless so I thought I would pitch in and lend a hand this morning.” I smiled at my excellent assistant. “Thank you, Carol.” I then looked over to Kathy, who had acquired custody and guardianship of Carmen last year when the Little had burned herself on the stove while trying to cook some chicken nuggets for herself. Carmen was resistant at first, but further sessions between the two had since solidified their relationship and Kathy had even earned herself the title ‘mommy’ last month. “I just want to apologize to you, Kathy,” I directed at the Big, seeing as Carmen was clearly too distracted by the wooden blocks passing back and forth in the maze before her. “Lots of issues with Vincent this morning. You know how it is…” She smiled and nodded after briefly looking down at her adopted daughter playing on the ground. “Oh, do I ever these days.” I smiled and walked the rest of the way in. “Vincent had one bad dream last night, a blowout diaper this morning, and then got all picky this morning with his peaches. I really do love him dearly, but sometimes…” I let my insinuations float through the air. Knowing Carmen as I did, I knew Kathy would understand. And she did as she let out a little chuckle. “Oh yikes. I recently had to switch Carmen out of the Hippos brand and to the Koddles one instead myself. Way too many leaks all over the place.” “Mommee!” Carmen complained, quickly blushing with embarrassment. Carol, Kathy, and I all just grinned over her cute little red cheeks and the fact that she was now trying to hide herself as best she could. It might have been a small thing or even terrible for other Littles, but for Carmen to still be embarrassed over something like that, it still showed that her mental state hadn’t completely lapsed into a full blown regressed Little. “Sorry, pumpkin. Just chatting with Doctor M about mommy business,” she explained down to Carmen. Carmen still huffed and had now crossed her arms, a classic move I recognized very well from being her doctor for almost a year, but I could tell Kathy thought it was just cute. I had recommended Kathy last year as her guardian for that very reason. Kathy was stubborn and playful to Carmen’s chagrin most days, but Kathy could also take whatever was thrown back at her. Considering the four caregiver candidates Carmen had gone through before I recommended Kathy, I knew it was practically a requirement. “Okay,” I said, trying to break the tension between the two. I normally avoided that type of thing, but I also wanted Carmen to be open to talking today. Having her already in a bad mood when she came in would have only made things harder. “Let me just open my door and we can go in and have a little talk today. Is that okay, Carmen?” I asked her, only using a slightly higher tone with her, actively avoiding using the usual babyish cooing tone I used with Vincent and only a few select others. Seeing her wildly fluctuating emotions firsthand, Carmen quickly bottled up and hugged her floppy-eared bunny, she had appropriately named, Flopsy a few months ago. I was worried she would be uncooperative today, but she then ultimately nodded. ‘Good. She’s in one of her shy moods today now, but she still seems open.’ I smiled back and then went to open my office door. Flicking on the light, I held the door open as Carmen slowly waddled inside. It took her a minute to climb up onto the couch, not wanting to let go of Flopsy, but she managed to get the hang of it. Smiling further, I gave a thumbs up to Kathy to reassure her everything was okay, and then shut my door. Being a caregiver and mommy myself, I knew that as much as Littles had their own separation anxiety, we often did as well. Trying to put Vincent out of my mind though, I walked over and made sure not to make any loud noises on my desk. From the way that Carmen was hugging Flopsy this morning, I knew something had to be on her mind and I didn’t want to spook her into further silence. So, finally, I retrieved her file and sat down in my usual chair across from her before I opened it and read what was inside. * * * Patient Name: Carmen Baal Biological Age: 26 Years old Estimated Mental Age: Fluctuates with stress but a noticeable overall slip below preschool level Former Occupation: Mid-Level Billing Executive at Juventas Current Occupation: Retired with full benefits and compensated lifelong salary Regression Initiated: 364 days ago Notes: Patient was one of the least mentally regressed, and bouts of physical regression have now mostly stabilized, but mental regression appears to fluctuate with stress levels though rarely exceeds preschool level. Patient has often become shy when first entering but often talks through constant companion stuffed animal. Due to Little and regressed status under the care of her new mommy, I have decided to allow this ‘crutch’ behavior to continue. Further visits are likely due to coping problems with regressed status. * * * I stared back at Carmen and marveled over just how much she had changed in the past year. The Carmen that had first entered this office almost eleven months ago was so self-assured and confident. Despite a few embarrassing potty accidents and the whole incident with Juventas, she could still turn everyone’s heads when she walked into any room. Now, I was staring back at a very different Carmen. Her penchant for fashion or dresses hadn’t faded, but she now wore a ruffled trim sleeveless dress all adorned with raspberry-colored roses clearly meant for someone toddler-aged. She had worn some protection when she had first arrived here, for her own sake at that point, but as Kathy had noted, the Koddles she now wore were anything but discreet and as she hugged Flopsy, her dress fell down her knees a bit and I could see that she was already wet. I sighed and noted a few of my observations down, also trying to see if she would talk to me first. Sometimes she did, but today it seemed I would have to dig with her first. As most of my patients initially affected by the Juventas incident now only saw me every other week or I had transferred to other Little-specific therapists, seeming more in need of pediatric therapists now to be honest, Carmen was my last regular weekly seen patient now from the whole incident last year. I sighed and dropped my pad of paper a bit to look at Carmen better. I usually found more direct eye contact and my full attention worked better with her on days like today. “Carmen? Is there something you want to talk about first with me?” Seeing her emotions were in flux, I typically found the direct approach to her problems the best course. I could have been wrong, but her hesitation quickly showed me there was something there, even though she shook her head quickly after, sending her done-up hair twirling about her face. “Hmmm… I don’t know,” I said playfully. “I think there might be, but you know what? It’s okay to be scared or embarrassed sometimes.” I could see a slight movement in her body, so I knew she was listening to me and that I was on to something. I could even tell she wanted to talk as well, but since her regular mental age had dipped below grade school level, I had noticed she had become increasingly shier. It was even worse on the days her emotions were in flux and she dipped below preschool level, like today. So, I straightened up a bit and then leaned forward. I found some of my mentally younger patients found the pose to be more relaxed and engaged with them… less clinical in a way. “How about Flopsy, huh?” I asked, seeing more movement with her now. “Could maybe Flopsy tell me what happened this week?” I could still sense the hesitation, but essentially using Flopsy as a puppet, Carmen nodded its head. “Uh-huh,” she said in a slightly different pitch than her usual voice. It was really cute, but I had discovered that stuffy’s, personal or otherwise, made great shields for shy Littles to express themselves when they didn’t have the courage or confidence to themselves. Seeing she was willing to open up that way, I smiled. “That’s wonderful, Flopsy. I’m so glad you can tell me what happened to Carmen this week. You know, she’s a really good girl from I’ve heard from her mommy, so I bet she didn’t do anything wrong, am I right?” Carmen nodded Flopsy’s head. “I’m glad to hear that, so maybe start at the beginning and I can see if there’s something I can help with, okay?” Carmen hesitated, but eventually nodded Flopsy’s head. “’Kay… my fwiends at daycawe… I… I…” I could see whatever it was, was really affecting her today. As soon as she mentioned her friends though, I knew it was a possibility that the day had come where Carmen needed to be told some hard truths. See, she had met them at daycare when she first started going. They leveled out around preschool level, but now, that level of maturity only happened on Carmen’s best days. So, unfortunately, I already felt like I knew where this was going, but for the moment, I wanted her to tell me. “It’s okay, Flopsy. I’m here and I just want to help Carmen. I know it’s hard, but just start slow. Maybe just start slowly at the beginning, okay?” Carmen slowly nodded Flopsy’s head. “I… I…” “Deep breaths… just like we’ve been practicing. Deep breaths…” I reminded the duo in front of me. Carmen’s emotions had been wildly fluctuating lately and she had been having a lot of problems coping with them. I wasn’t sure if she remembered to breathe and try to calm down from our previous session, so I gently reminded her from time to time to reinforce the lesson. I could then see Carmen take some deep breaths. After a moment, she, and therefore Flopsy, looked up and continued. “We wewe pwayin’ wiff dem, wike we’ve done… fo’evuh,” she exaggerated. “We jus’ had some snacks, an’ dey wen’ potty… I didn’ haffta… buh’ den…” I could see her emotions welling up again. Sensing where this was headed, I reminded her again. “Deep breaths…” She followed the deep breaths I was doing as well to try and regulate her emotions better in a slow and relaxed manner. “Very good…” Carmen nodded Flopsy’s head and continued. “I was jus’ waffing wiff dem an’… an’… I…” Even with Flopsy as her surrogate, having seen all this before with several other Littles around this mental age, I could tell she couldn’t finish the thought. Sighing, I knew I would have to and knowing her by now, I knew it could only be one thing that would at least start to get her this upset. “You had a messy accident…” This time, Carmen nodded her head without Flopsy and instead hugged her bunny as tightly as she could. Curiously, I noticed her thumb begin to slip into her mouth as well this time. She then rocked back and forth for a moment, clearly trying to self-soothe, and I let her. It took all my strength not to just cuddle her up on the spot, but I knew I had to stamp down those emotions. I had to funnel them later for Vincent and not cross that line here at work. I was a professional and I had to remind myself that either Carmen need to self-soothe or she needed her mommy to cuddle her up tightly… not me as her therapist. After a moment, I was pleasantly surprised as her emotions seemed to start to level out once more. “Carmen,” I started again seeing that she could actually hear me now, “it’s okay to have an accident. Your mommy changes you into diapers still for a reason and having a messy one, though admittedly embarrassing, has been happening for a while now.” Carmen quickly nodded and still sucked her thumb while she held Flopsy tightly. I could tell I had broken through her initial shell, but I knew there was something more to the incident as well. As I told her already, she had been messing her diapers for a while now, so her emotions, though unpredictable to a certain extent, didn’t seem to warrant something like a messy diaper. So, I didn’t want to, but I knew I needed to push with this. “So, what happened after? Did you get changed then?” I began to pry at her. Carmen hesitated and when she finally popped her thumb out of her mouth, I could tell that she almost viewed the digit as a betrayer, clearly showing me that it was a recent habit, but she looked back at me and nodded. “Uh-huh… dey changed me wike a’ways… buh’ when I gah back…” She paused and started to stroke Flopsy’s ears for a moment. I wanted to know what happened next, but I let her self-soothe once more. While she was putting the attention on Flopsy, I knew it also served to temporarily ease her mind by shunting the bad feelings into each stroke of her hand. If it went longer than a minute, I would have spoken up to get us back on track, but she soon stopped and looked back up at me. “I… gah back, an’… an’… dey made fun o’ me!” she wailed. ‘Aha!’ I knew I was right with my previous suspicions over what had happened. I liked being right, but I often also hated in this job why I was right as well. Littles who bottomed out, or stabilized, at different ages often could remain friends. Unfortunately, though, that often wasn’t the case in my experience. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Carmen. Did a staff member help you out?” I asked, trying to see if there was at least some positive note in her story today. Fortunately, Carmen nodded. “Dey did, buh’… my fwiends! I dot dey woul’ be nice ta me, buh’ dey jus’ cawed me names an’ waffed!” I sighed and knew the time had come to have one of the more dreaded talks that I had to have with most Littles. I already had the talk with Carmen last year when her old friends weren’t regressing, and she was. She was of course devastated but that also just happened to be the time when she started having messy accidents during the day as well, so it made that transition a little easier. I had hoped that was the only time I was going to have to talk to her about friends and regression, but today had proved otherwise. Frankly, even despite my hope, seeing Carmen as she was, I was surprised it had even taken this long. “Carmen… do you have any other friends… at daycare, or maybe even with some of your Littles events your mommy takes you too?” I asked hesitantly. I knew from experience, this could either be a joyous moment, or one fraught with tension. Carmen nodded. “Yeah… buh’ dey aww babies!” Being a psychologist and therapist was hard sometimes for a variety of reasons. Right now, for example, it was hard not to see the irony in that statement coming from the Little before me. I could tell her diaper was even more wet now and that her thumb was once again dangling ever closer to her mouth threatening to pop back in at any second. Still, I had to maintain my professionalism. “And instead, you want to hang out with people your own age… maybe even older, right?” She quickly nodded and I wished there was a simple solution to her problem. On the one hand, if I told her to stick with her old friends, I knew she was in for more humiliation at some point. If they had laughed over a simple dirty diaper, there was no way that they wouldn’t laugh at the myriad of other problems that could arise in Carmen’s future. If, on the other hand, I told her to find new friends, it would be better long term for her, but she could lose trust in me. So, I knew I had to work around the problem. “Hmmm… would you say your friends, the ones who laughed, are older than you now?” I knew I was walking a very dangerous line, but I knew if she confirmed it, I could have my way in to help her out. Carmen hesitated, but ultimately nodded her head. “Uh-huh… o’ maybe? I don’ know…” I smiled to reassure her further. “That’s okay, Carmen. You don’t need to know that answer completely right now, but how do you feel about those younger than you? Your mommy told me last week that you go to a reading event at your library every week and met someone…” I quickly looked back at my notes I had jotted down after. “Lucy, I believe?” For a moment, I thought I could almost see a smile appear on Carmen’s face, but it was quickly replaced with annoyance. “Yeah… buh’ she’s much younguh dan me. She even dwinks fwom a bottle!” “Oh, I see…” I was sad she hadn’t found a friend there, but I knew that Lucy was perfect to use as my point. “So, she’s younger than you, and how does she make you feel when she does something like that? Like drinking from a bottle I mean?” Carmen looked at me questioningly and I knew I was going to have to give her a little more. “Maybe you think she’s babyish? Or helpless and you feel frustrated being with her? Or maybe you almost want to laugh because she’s a little silly perhaps?” Carmen instantly nodded her head. “Uh-huh! She’s such a baby! She even cwawls awoun’ on da fwoor!” Carmen then grinned and I knew she was playing right into my point. “Buh she’s awso weally funny when she twies to stan’ o’ walk!” I let her laugh to herself for a moment, but once she was a little calmer, I asked the question I had been leading to. “So, you want to laugh at her because she’s silly?” Carmen once again nodded. “Like your friends did to you at daycare?” Her smile instantly left, and I could see her mind was trying to come up with an argument against me. Traces of the old Carmen lingered, but I could also tell that her mind just wasn’t up to the task of arguing against me. “I’m not trying to make you think you did something wrong with Lucy, Carmen, but I want you to think about your other friends. They’re a bit older than you some days,” I made sure to add just incase she thought I was calling her a baby, “so, like with Lucy, they may see you as younger and sillier than them sometimes.” “Buh’ I don’ wan’ dem to laugh!” she countered. I knew I had to act quickly or risk another breakdown today. Too many and she would shut down completely. “But sometimes people can’t help when they laugh. If they’re doing it to be mean, then that’s a problem, like maybe when they call you names. Is that the case with them do you think?” Carmen hesitated again but ultimately shook her head ‘no.’ I honestly think that she was in denial with her friends, especially after hearing that they had called her names, but I knew I could only push this so far today. “Well, then you have three options with them. You need to tell them to stop, accept it when they do laugh, or find some other friends.” I could tell I was giving her a lot to think about and I knew we were getting to the limit of her current mental capacity. She wasn’t dumb and I will defend that opinion of all Littles to my dying day, but her brain just couldn’t keep all the complicated facts together anymore. As it stood, I had even started writing little notes to give out to the mommies, daddies, and caregivers of the Littles I saw like her. Carmen was no exception, and I knew Kathy would ensure what I told her today would stick one way or another. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t remember everything, and I still wanted to help her out, whether she did it herself or had her mommy help her. “Okay, Carmen, I think that’s enough of that for today. I want you to think about all that when you go home today, but for now, I want you to tell me some good parts of your week instead. Can you do that for me?” I asked with a hopeful tone in my voice. Carmen popped out of her deep thoughts and nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! Mommy an’ me wen’ to da zoo da odder day! I got ta see da fishies an’ da whinos an’ da…” I smiled and continued to listen to my Little patient. I was always happy when they could list dozens of things during their week that were good. Last September, she couldn’t have done that if her life depended on it, and now, even if the items she listed were of the more childish or babyish variety, she was still excited by each thing she told me. I always found that, if at all possible, it was always best to end a session on a good note. A little while later and a few conversations about diaper checks, finger painting, new foods, and all that, our session was over. I set my pad on my desk and walked over to help Carmen off the couch. Her diaper had swelled considerably during the session and still holding Flopsy, her waddle made her already labored walking even more difficult. “Mommy!” she cried, running back over to Kathy after I opened the door. Kathy quickly crouched down to greet her adopted Little. “Baby! How’d your session go today? Learn anything new or whatnot?” Carmen quickly nodded and babbled off half a dozen things that we talked about. Kathy was attentive every minute, but soon gave her a quick hug and nodded up to me before looking back at Carmen. “Okay, sweetie. You play with Flopsy or color for just a minute while me and Doctor M talk for a second, okay?” “Yes, mommy!” Carmen replied happily, settling in with Flopsy to color in one of the books I had lying on the coffee table in my lounge. ‘I swear, I go through a dozen or so of those books each week.’ Kathy then rose back up and smiled at me. “So, anything I should be worried about this week, doc?” I smiled over at Carmen, who was now thoroughly engrossed in coloring in a picture of Princess Poppy. Even five months ago, she would have been glued to everything we were talking about her, but not anymore. “She’s had a few incidents at daycare with her friends that I want you to keep an eye on.” I then handed her the note I had written for her. “I’ve given her some options on how to deal with her friends laughing at her and calling her names, but I think she’s going to have some tough weeks ahead unfortunately.” Kathy sighed and nodded. “Yeah… I was thinking that was going to be the case. I’m trying to get her involved in more activities for her age, but she’s just so…” Kathy then paused and seemed to try to figure out just what the right words were. “Stubborn over being an older Little still?” I finished for her. Kathy quickly nodded. “I’ve seen that too, but as long as you’re trying for her, then that’s all you can do sometimes. She’s a regressed Little now but she was a former independent adult, so don’t forget that. She’s making progress at accepting her current life, but she’s going to struggle with a few things still.” Kathy nodded. “Thanks, doc. Was there anything else?” I sighed and I wasn’t sure if I should even bring it up, but right as I was having doubts, I noticed that once again, Carmen was circling her lips absent-mindedly with her thumb. “Just one thing… have you noticed her sucking her thumb recently?” Kathy grinned and nodded. “I have. Cutest thing when I first saw it, but… I mean, should I be concerned at all?” I shook my head. “No. I wouldn’t be. If she shows signs of stabilization or even maturing, we might try to break the habit, but for now, I might actually encourage it in a way.” “Encourage it?” she questioned skeptically. “Didn’t something just come out that says it can be harmful to Littles?” “Eh, the reports vary,” I admitted, “but most will say the same thing that I will. If she’s going to be sucking her thumb anyway, I would highly recommend one of those orthodontist pacifiers. Do that and it will knock down most of the negatives in those reports.” “But won’t she reject them outright?” she asked, clearly fearing a tantrum or some other outburst as she looked over at Carmen, still furiously coloring away, the lines almost seeming like more of a suggestion in most places. “I mean… pacifiers just seem so… babyish.” I sighed. “That’s all true, but I think her mind is learning to accept a lot of things. I saw her catch herself today looking at her thumb, so I know she’s aware of it on some level at least but look at her now.” Kathy did and I subtly gestured to the difficulty she was already having with coloring with one hand and holding Flopsy while still rubbing her thumb around her lips with the other. “Recent orthodontic pacifiers have a lot of benefits we Bigs know about, like reducing germs and keeping her teeth healthy, but to her, a pacifier will likely eventually be seen as a way to get all she wants. It’s hands free, and that’s what she’ll focus on after a bit of encouragement.” I could see Kathy’s hesitancy still though. “Just try one and don’t make a big deal out of it. Maybe even just leave it in her room by her coloring books and see what happens.” Kathy ultimately agreed and we talked about a few other odds and ends, but the remaining bit of time during our session soon came to an end. I had built in a bit of a buffer zone at the end for conversations like I just had with Kathy for most of my mentally younger patients. Littles like Carmen could only sit still and talk for so long in a session like that, and by the time the Little got to that stage, their caregivers needed to be told of things instead anyway. Satisfied, Kathy then gathered Carmen up, both said their goodbyes and started walking out my front door. As they were leaving though, Kathy turned back around, and I could tell she had that look of ‘just one more thing.’ I always hated that look because it usually meant something bad. ‘Oh, one more thing… I hear voices.’ ‘Oh, one more thing… I started wetting the bed at night.’ ‘Oh, one more thing… I can’t read anymore.’ “Uh, just one other thing… do you have a recommendation for another Little doctor in the area for general checkups and whatnot?” she asked, still trying to hold onto the clearly impatient Carmen tugging on her other arm. “Everything okay?” I asked inquisitively. I had a duty to protect my patients and bad general doctors for Littles were more common, even up north here in Losantiville, Libertalia, than I would have liked to admit. Kathy quickly nodded to my relief. “Oh yeah. Everything was fine, but I think the practice moved or something like that. Just need a new one with pollen season coming up and all. I don’t want Carmen to get all frustrated with sneezing every six seconds. Apparently, it made her potty issues last year much worse.” I smiled and nodded. “Oh, I remember. I’ll be sure to add a few I might recommend with her file in the patient portal by tonight along with the suggestions I have for her dealing with friends now.” Kathy smiled and I could see her get pulled once more by the anxiously waiting Carmen out in the hallway. “Thank you, doctor.” She looked back over at Carmen and grinned over her antics. “Guess we better be off now. I think someone could use a snack and a change.” “Mommee!” Carmen wailed out again in protest and embarrassment. I knew Kathy was right though from what I had seen during our session and seeing the time myself as well, I quickly said my goodbyes to both and saw them out. Carol then quickly helped me wipe everything down and reorganize the office in looking a little tidier and more professional once again. We had made that mistake with my next patient last week and I knew not to repeat it again. She was already temperamental and a bit fragile with all this still, so I knew everything had to be perfect for our session to go well today. Just as I finished retrieving my next patient’s file and organizing my desk, I heard the downstairs door quickly open and then slam shut. She was here and I braced against my desk and closed my door in anticipation of my next Little. She had expectations of seeing a court-ordered therapist and I wanted to match each of them. I just hoped that today, she would trust me a little more.
  2. Warning I promised with my last story that I would post a short warning before I posted the first chapter. As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established Diaper Dimension. These include, but are not limited to: Diapers Using Diapers for Their Intended Purpose Non-consensual Mental Regression through Various Means (Including Possible Drugs, Hypnosis, and or Surgery) Graphic Imagery Associated With Any of These Warnings Humiliation Female Domination Babying of adults Violence (pertaining to weapons, assault, or harm of others) For those readers interested or do not care about the warnings listed, please enjoy this story. Future Edit: For those interested, this story now also has a sequel, which you can find at the following link: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/90966-tell-me-more-ii-a-diaper-dimension-story-chapter-01-updated-07-may/
  3. This was an exercise my therapist asked me to do, to write my my thoughts out without filtering them and to share them with people that are important in my life. This community is the only thing I have that isn't a direct part of my day to day life, so I'm sharing it here. It's not a fun read and you can't fap to it...I mean, there's something deeply wrong with you if you can, but anyway, it's a thing and whether anyone reads it or not is irrelevant, I did it and this is it. Slip By: RambleLamb I feel it coming before it happens. It's never enough warning to do anything about it, not that I could anyway, but it's the early warning that makes it all the more frustrating. It starts as this sort of hum in my brain, like the sound power lines make but a physical sensation rather than auditory. The hum isn't big at first, just a background process my brain starts to run like a virus scan on a computer. If I'm alone when the hum starts I pack everything away that I don't want chewed on or damaged and sit quietly to try and will the hum away, this has yet to work, but I haven't been able to fully resign myself to the transformation yet, so I try and force it to stop. As the hum builds things start to make less sense. Letters become hieroglyphics, numbers become squiggles, my tactile senses get turned up to eleven and touch and taste become my sole means of discovering objects. My words become smaller and less coherent, broken little things barely above monosyllables, often words disappear entirely to be replaced with the grunts and gurgles one would expect from a preverbal infant, the thing I'm to become for an indeterminate amount of time. It's the times that I'm alone that make it hardest, though that's becoming a rarer and rarer circumstance the more often this happens to me. The space between the slips, the times where I'm functioning at my normal developmental level are becoming the exception and not the rule. As the hum grows I look around the room and feel the tears start to form in my eyes. I had a room that was made for an adult once, a bed that I engaged in adult activities in, a bookshelf full of tomes that proved how smart I was, how diverse and broad a spectrum of understanding I possessed, but then everything fell apart. My room now is indistinguishable from that of a toddler just starting their journey from their infant beginnings. My bed has a protective railing on the side to keep me from falling out, a compromise made when the suggestion of a full crib was met with protestation from an indignant version of me that existed before the slips started to become commonplace. The cream carpet is dingy in the spots where I sit and play with the brightly colored bits of plastic that entertain me during my slips, those are being gradually replaced with softer colored things made of softer materials like cloth, things that I won't hurt my teeth on or swallow when they inevitably end up in my mouth. The diaper pail beside the window used to be a more clinical device, one that served to dispose of the inevitable wet and messy garments I was unable to stop creating since the accident. The plain diaper pail, the one that had blended into the wall when I moved in disappeared at some point, replaced with a fingerpaint smeared, sticker adorned one that proudly proclaimed itself a necessary fixture in the nursery the room was gradually becoming. When I write or read it gives me a sense of control over myself, a semblance of the life I once had where my freedom of choice dictated if and when I regressed and I chose who was allowed to see me at this most innocent and vulnerable state of being and if I wanted them to participate by being my caregiver. My reading and writing are often interrupted now by unannounced diaper checks or changes when it's apparent to everyone but me that I've soiled myself. This all feels like a cruel joke. One day I was happy to allow Her to see me in my diapers, to watch me pretend to be a helpless baby or curious toddler, I would smile and coo as I consciously let myself go in my diaper, feeling this warmth fill my heart and soul when she praised me and lovingly changed me into a clean or dry diaper. The days after Her became a funhouse mirror of that life, a parody of make belive in the realm of reality. No longer do I decide when I use my diaper, no longer do I choose when the role of helpless baby or curious toddler becomes my station in life. The day before I lost Her we made love. The noises she made as I satisfied her gave me that feeling of satisfaction I got when she took care of my littler side. She tasted like the watermelon I'd eat as a little girl, sweet but with salt sprinkled over it to expand its flavor. I told her she was "Summer" as we lay in each other's arms that night, straddling the line between sleep and awake, talking to each other in hushed tones coded in weariness and post coital bliss. She giggled. I giggled. She kissed my forehead. I nuzzled her bare chest. She asked what I meant when I said she was "Summer". In the dark of the room she couldn't see my blush, but I knew she could feel my face growing hotter against her bare flesh. I told her the watermelon story, shy for some reason at allowing her access to my personal thoughts, worry that my brain's insistence on overcomplicating things will make my comparison not make sense to her. She rubs my back and tells me she understands. She thanks me and we fall asleep together for the last time. Tears aren't as rare as they used to be for me. I cry when I think of Her which is all the time. I cry when I feel helpless which is all the time. I cry when I'm reminded that I'm not the woman I used to be which is all the time. I hide this new normal from people. I've shared bits and pieces here and there, but the assumption is that I'm lying, that I'm living in a fantasy world I've created because I'm one of those people that can't tell the difference between what's real and what's not. Someone once acted like they were jealous of me because I was living their dream lifestyle and it hurt so much, the reminder that aspects of this life I'm forced to live now used to be something I would write about and pleasure myself to but now just feel like bitter resentment crystallized into this cold lump in the pit of my stomach. When the slips happen I go away, not even a passenger in my own body, just losses of time and memory that are seldom described to me once I return. When they first started I was told about how I'd laid on the floor drooling and babbling incoherently, shown videos of myself throwing a tantrum, my cries sounding smaller in my own ears, more infantile than I could have ever faked before. I feel like a nesting doll, the largest outer doll hiding facets of myself until the tiniest and most fragile one is exposed, trading places with the rational adult doll and banishing it to an inescapable prison of infancy that it's powerless to escape from. How do you run away from something when you can't walk anymore? How do you establish your desire to be seen as the adult you are, regain the independence you once had when at any moment you could devolve into a squalling infant trapped in an adult body? How can anyone be expected to value your requests for freedom and the responsibility of making your own decisions when you have to be told that you've messed your diaper? She would know what to do. She was so smart. The double edged sword of irony is a fucking bitch. I want my adulthood back and my normal life back and Her back so all of this can go back to being fun, an occasional indulgence that allows me to unwind with Her after a hard fought day at work being a responsible, productive member of society. I want to stop being a helpless baby so I can go back to playing make believe games where I'm a helpless baby. Her baby. That's the variable that changes everything. She made everything safe and happy, reassuring and comforting. My family doesn't love me like she did. They tolerate me because I'm pathetic, a broken girl with a missing leg and a damaged spine. They'd put me in a hospital if the guilt of the idea that family actually means something didn't spur them to let me live here. They judged me for being an adult baby. Judged me for being bi and then again for going full lesbian. They hated what my life choices did to my mother and never could see that I wasn't hurting anyone and didn't want to in the first place. I wonder what She would think about my blossoming intimacy with my cousin. Would she be disgusted knowing that we've kissed? Would she hate me for giving the same secret kisses on the tenderest of lips to my blood relative? Would she feel like I was cheating on Her? I miss Her so much and maybe it's that deep longing that's making my already skewed and confused mind see love where it shouldn't. Is incest still so wrong if you can't create a horribly deformed baby from your union? It's not like I can feel anything below the waist anyway, how wrong can it be? I spend so much time now crying and feeling sorry for myself and lamenting what a shit hand I've been dealt in life that I lose sight of the truth that someone still loves me enough to take care of me, loves me enough to shoulder the burden of protecting me when I've slipped so far that I can't do anything but cry. She loved me that much. I tell myself that but I can't know it for sure, and Her lips are sealed on the matter. When I told Cousin that I loved her, that I was "in love" with her she didn't run away, she kissed me the way She kissed me, her velvet tongue inviting mine to dance with it as she pulled me close to her and then she said it back. Can I be happy despite all of this? Can I cobble together a semblance of the normalcy I had with Her with Cousin? I worry that I'm a curiosity to Cousin, a pleasant tingle in the secret part of her that will fade once she realizes that our relationship is far more mother/daughter than lover/lover, but she knows what I am and what my limitations are and she still said it back. I hate having trust issues because She died. I hate that I resent Her for lying about being together forever. She couldn't have known that our time together would be over so quickly, I know that, but emotionally I'm very much a child and it hurts and I hate it and I can't make sense of any of it so I throw a tantrum about it. I haven't thought about suicide since She died. I want to be proud of that, other people are, but the truth is that I had an epiphany and it's really fucked up so I keep it to myself but rules are rules so, yeah, I don't think about suicide anymore because the me that was happy and had her shit together died in that accident. I'm a ghost in my own life now, just a phantom trying to get someone to listen to it and right a wrong so it can rest in peace, the thing is that the wrong can never be righted, my brain will slip more and more often, the slips lasting longer and becoming more intense until the ghost of me is gone for good and all that's left is an adult sized infant that offers nothing to the world aside from used diapers. It's not "giving up" if the game is unwinnable. I'm being realistic about my situation and that won't sit right with people so I just keep it all to myself so no one gets upset. The humming is starting again. Maybe this will be the last slip? Does it really matter?
  4. Katherine Holmes, she goes by Kit. She has an introvert personality, very shy and stubborn . Her parents put her into daily counseling/ therapy, so Kit has an outlet and isn't isolating herself all the time. She has no choice since her parents are concerned for her health. When Kit starts to go to therapy, day by day she is subtly treated like a child and furthered back into babyhood where there were no worries or cares in the world. After all, that's all her parents want for her. Is too no longer worry or stress and just be there happy little baby again. I need someone to play the therapist that babies Kit. I will be playing kit. This roleplay is open. But message me first if you're interested. Also 3-4 sentence replies are required, as well as playing in 3rd person and this is non sexual.
  5. Hi All, I wanted to let any of you in the New York City area know that there is now an AB/DL aware psychotherapist available to see any of you. She is located in the Flatiron district of Manhattan and offers sliding scale fees. She is super empathic and understanding and won't make you feel awkward about being AB/DL and the challenges in dealing with acceptance, finding happiness in relationships, and overall life when dealing with these issues.
  6. I've been fascinated with diapers for as long as I can remember, probably since about age 3.
  7. I have an anxiety/panic disorder that has really be acting up lately so I think it is time to find myself a therapist in my area(I have moved recently). Anyway, I would really like to find a therapist who is AB friendly. I would like to be able to discuss diapers as one of my coping mechanisms without the therapist trying to "fix" the AB part of me that I have no interest in "fixing", and have that distract from the real issue of the anxiety. So if anyone has any experience with this I would love any advice I can get. And if anyone knows of any AB friendly therapists in the Bay Area private message me and let me know. Thanks for your help!
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