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  1. Madeline frantically fluffed pillows, dusted cabinets, and cleaned the mirrors and windows in her guest room as she noticed the clock getting ever closer to the time when her new house mate would arrive. When the room was finally up to her standards, she let out a soft sigh of relief and went to put dinner in the oven. From what she knew, this girl was nineteen, and she was having to be transported from her home in Colorado all the way to Madeline's pretty cottage in Ottowa. The journey could not have been easy, and she figured that everybody could use a good meal to talk over. Then, she heard her little girl's footsteps as she waddled out from her room, having awakened from her nap. "Hello, Amelia!" She cooed and lifted her up. "Are you ready to meet our new friend? She should be here any minute!" Amelia smiled brightly and nodded eagerly. While Madeline was quite chill and soft spoken, Amelia was a bundle of energy. That's why, it was no surprise when she squealed and jumped out of Madeline's arms to go open the door when the bell rang. Madeline chased after her and shook her head, chuckling. She took her little hand, and then opened the door. "Hello there." She said softly, offering the girl a hand to shake. "My name is Madeline Williams, welcome to our home." She said and gave her a gentle smile. She hadn't really taken a good look at the girl yet, as Amelia was already running to grab at her leg and look up at her and excitedly cheer "Guest! Guest! Guest!"
  2. My first diaper story! Here, a motherly lavender dragon adopts a slave not to use her, but to parent her. No diapers yet, I'm afraid. Maybe in the next chapter a hint of them? :3 I promise, by the end, Maria will be a good little baby cat. :DD And more importantly, I hope to both grow the characters of Maria and Chelsey as stronger, healthier people through their connection. This is a draft, so I'm happy to take suggestions. It's also focused on consensual regression, as I think that's adorable and hot, but I'm very down to write dubious consent stuff in the future. With all that said, enjoy! To Be a Mother – Chapter 1 Chained Strays A girl waited in there for Chelsey. That brick storefront, Marol’s Helpers on 1289 Culper’s Avenue, with rain slithering down through the red and brown cracks of bricks into the side walk below, held her chance at a daughter. She wanted to help somebody, truly. In the glove box, she broke out a purple umbrella, then changed her mind. She cracked open the car door and slid out into the rain, appreciating this freshness against the atmosphere she was about to walk into. Drizzled, Chelsey lavender fur sparkled in the rain. She was a tall anthro dragon, and she wore a black pencil skirt and a scarlet blouse. With her wings spread out, she walked across the parking lot, to that dirty glass door surrounded by all those bricks. It almost looked like a prison. She wished she could help more than one girl. But just helping one meant something for her, even if it screamed in her mind to be insignificant. A claw gripped the handle, and she walked inside. “Welcome!” a chipper weasel said. She had long reading glasses across her snout that held a huge smile. “Are you Ms. Chelsey? We’re so glad you could make it with the weather.” Unlike the secretary’s bright demeanor, the floor was bare, white perfect white tiles. The walls were white too, a waiting room, yet still, there was no dust anywhere. Chelsy wondered for a second why the outside wasn’t upkept but the inside was pristine (though in her mind, scourging.) But of course it made perfect sense, given what this place does. They likely wanted to keep a low profile from the local area’s government. She was entering a criminal dwelling. God, was this really her chosen adoption method? “The roads aren’t too slippery yet. Could I see the, umm, options now?” The language was so objectifying, but it felt better than the alternative. “Of course, our slaves are so excited to meet you.” As they walked down the blistering long hallway, Chelsey’s heels echoed all around. She would be confident here. She wanted a strong but gentle first impression. She held her white snout up. This place, despite its horrors, wouldn’t shake her from rescuing her future daughter. There, at the end, were two girls and a boy sitting on a bench, each chained with cuffs to the wall. One girl, a cat with long whiskers and lime fur, had her head down. She still has herself, Chelsey thought. The others, a male cat and a female cow, were alert, staring out, as close to a grin as they could muster. A tall bloodhound was smoking a cigarette and leaned against the still-white walls. There were no windows in here. “Ah, you’re here for one of these?” “Yes,” the weasel said. “A happy member to join her family.” Chelsey wanted to roll her eyes at the fakeness here. But it was true. She will make one of these animals happy. She needed to. Animals deserve to be happy. “Smile,” the dog gritted through his teeth, his snout deep into the girl cat’s ears. No, stop. He placed a paw under her snout, pushes up. She’s resisting. She wanted to keep her jaw down. He wouldn’t let her. Her force gives away, and her muzzle bolted upright. She looked straight at Chelsey now, and with near tears in her eyes, shined a delirious grin. The other cat shuffled in his seat—as much as his cuff will allow—feeling the tension here, but he took a clear breath. The cow seemed not to be bothered by all this movement, still calm and face ahead. Meanwhile, the weasel fanned herself with files, avoiding gazing at the scene. Was that her disguise peeling off, or was she okay with this business? Could she not get another job? Chelsey was always a curious dragon. “I would like to adopt her,” Chelsey said, pointing to the tortured female cat. “Please.” “Oh, but surely you would want one of these other fine specimen?” the dog said, a ringleader of his circus. There’s a bit of panic to his voice, and his paw strongly gestures outwards to the other two captives. “She’s such a runt of the litter, you know.” “I’ll take her. What’s her name?” “Maria,” the cat whispered. “Wait, was it okay to speak? I’m so sorry!” “It was very okay,” Chelsey said. She kneeled down, a hind talon stretching back down the cold hallway floor, a front talon offering to hold the Maria’s paw. “I’m Chelsey. I’m going to take you home. Would you like that?” “I…I think so? I mean, yes, master!” Maria’s eyes were very wide for the vertical pupils of a cat. She was absolutely terrified, the poor thing. “Pft,” the bloodhound grunts, arms crossed. “Who cares what she likes. She’s just a slave. Jeez, masters have gotten so soft these days.” Chelsey really, really wanted to snap at the dog. But it wasn’t worth it. She needed to seem at close to a normal slave master. They might reject the sale if they knew she was going to spoil this kitten. So the exhaled, her large belly and chest fluff falling inwards. and she turned her large lavender scaled head to the hound. “How much will she be?” *** The rain poured hard on the car’s windshield, and the window wipers worked in overtime. Maria was quiet in the backseat. She had her head down again. Of course she did. She still saw Chelsey as her slave master. I must be disgusting in her eyes, Chelsey thought. She needed to work to win this cat’s trust if the girl was to ever see her as mom. “How you doing back there, friend?” Chelsey was so tempted to say “little one,” but it wasn’t time yet. She looked at the girl in the rear view mirror. “You can drop the act.” “What?” “You bought a slave. You’re going to use me. You don’t need to pretend we’re friends.” For who had seemed to be scared little cat, this was a change. But at least she’s confident to express herself. This was a good start. After a focus on a tricky intersection, Chelsey had a response. “Someone’s a little confident now that they’re rescued.” “Rescued?” She’s skeptical, then furious. “Rescuing me? You want to own me! I’m just glad to not be slapped by that man anymore.” Chelsey chuckled. “You don’t think I’m going to slap you?” She’s loving this personality. Cats can be a bit snippy. “Nah, you seem too soft for that. You’re probably just going to make me fold laundry and cook dinner or something.” She sunk into her seat. “I’m kind of lucky to have you buy me. Still doesn’t make us friends, though.” There’s a bit of quiet. Then Chelsey said, “I don’t think you’re lucky to end up in a place like that.” “No,” Maria considered, “I wasn’t.” Silence some more. Chelsey continued, “I don’t expect you to open up to me right now or anytime soon. What I want you to know is that you’re free.” Maria scratched the fuzz around her ears, probably wondering if she heard that right. “What do you mean?” “I’m saying that I wanted do something good for once, and I decided to give someone a better life. You’re not my slave. You’re free to leave as soon as we arrive at my home.” “I..” She couldn’t comprehend this. She was squirming in her seat, her seat belt sweating to restrain her. “You’re still a fucked up woman to find an animal trafficking service instead of, I dunno, donating to charity, but oh my god, I have a life again. A life…” “Yes?” Chelsey said. She didn’t want to lose this cat, but this was all part of the plan. A good mother lets her children be themselves. “I don’t have any money, though. I’m just going to end up back there. Again.” “Which is why,” Chelsey said, “You can live at our home as long as you need. I don’t want to dump you off in the middle of nowhere. I want to help you live, reorder your life.” “So, you want to be, like, a guardian? Adoption services exist too, you know.” The cat missed the small slip of “our.” The dragon smirked, her fangs shiny and tall. “Sure, but I wanted to help someone in your position. It’s something I strongly care about.” Maria didn’t really understand this, but that cat seemed satisfied enough with this answer. “Sure. Thank you.” “…There will still be a few rules, but nothing that isn’t normal house stuff. I’ve got some surprises when we get home.” The cat’s attention was lost, though. The girl, maybe 22 or so, had her eyes out the window. The city’s towers were shrinking into rolling hills and cliff faces. They were on the highway now. It would be a long drive in the rain until they reached Chelsey’s home, now the home of two. A mother, and a daughter at least in a legal sense. But an emotional bond would come soon. The dragon craved it.
  3. Richard Jford was a manager at a warehouse for construction supplies and tools, and he had a nice woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, but for one reason or another, one the doctors really couldn't find an answer to, they just had a hard time getting pregnant, and so it was, about two years previous, that they brought home their first child from the foster system. It had been a long road, and they had to be patient with her while she learned their new rules, which honestly, they found it strange at times that the rules she thought were rules, were somehow easier for her to follow than ones that made more sense. Samantha has mostly stopped wetting herself in the daytime, but even that had taken nearly a year for her to realize that it was unnecessary, and she was still wetting herself up until just a few days ago on purpose while she waited for people to open her bedroom door in the mornings. There was no evidence that she had completely stopped yet, but at least, she had not done so in the last couple of days. Richard climbed out of bed and after kissing his wife, he made his way towards the bathroom to get ready to take a shower on this July 13th Monday morning. Samantha was resting her eyes in her room, her pajamas with a small diaper and a pad inside for extra protection felt dry this morning. She looked out the window at the rising sun, and she sighed. She had no idea that they the family was going to be driving to the next town over about an hour and a half away to pick up a new family member. She could still hear the old Voices of the Myers in her head at times. She could hear the whipping sounds of the Snyders' wire hangers, and she could hear the echoing shame of her past calling her a thief. She opened her eyes and looked towards the door, but it was still closed. "You know you are not to touch that diaper, and no one takes it off you but me," the lady's face lingered in her mind for a moment or two. Richard had not wanted to get Samantha thinking she was getting a sister before they went to the town over and it was declared certain that they would get the girl. There had been a few times, when they were getting their first one, that mistakes were made, papers were forgotten, or someone forgot to check something, so that it took more than a dozen trips to get their first child. Samantha didn't come to them without baggage, but if you asked Richard today, if he thought Samantha was worth it, he'd tell you that no child is perfect, and that he is glad for having Samantha every day. However, he doesn't truly see what happens at home sometimes when he is at work, and poor Katherine has to deal with her alone, especially when it comes to school problems. Samantha looked over at her bedroom door, wondering when they would get her up. was she allowed to leave the room? She thought maybe it was okay, but her legs shook when she stood up. If she were wrong.... The eleven (going to be twleve year old on the 24th) girl had caramel dark blond hair that hung around her head in long uneven strings that reached just past her shoulders. There had been a dare, that Samantha took readily, when one of the prissy girls at her gymnastics class that Saturday before had dared her to cut a couple of clumps of hair, so she was taken to the beauty Salon the day before, on Sunday, and they fixed it up. It could have been worse, for sure, for she had not cut anything high up on her head. This allowed them to just trim her hair close to the length of her shoulders. Though Samantha was brainwashed into all kinds of strange rules and procedures in her past to avoid getting into trouble, she still seemed to find other ways to get into trouble. Richard nearly laughed at the idea that this little preteen would stare blankly into a door blocking her from leaving a room she was told to sit in, and yet, she would readily do something like cut parts of her hair or she would even pull the fire alarm, like she did nearly a year and a half ago at school. That child was something else. Samantha looked at the still closed door, willing it to open, but it didn't, and so, with a great heavy sigh, she spread her legs and started to pee into her diaper that was on under her purple nightshirt with three playful kittens tumbling over each other. The logo on the shirt in the center read: "Go Wild!" in vibrant Orange! It was only about six thirty by this time, and it being summer, there was likely no reason for anyone to have checked on her before this....
  4. Authors Note: Hello, everyone. It's been a while. I'm back to work with all kinds of new responsibilities and daily tasks. That means that free time has dwindled. I loved how during Covid, I had a whole extra two hours a day of no travel that I could dedicate to writing stories. Not only that, but after finishing Little Conditions, I felt my drive to write severly decrease. I have already apologized to the people on Patreon who donated to me as I feel like I could not live up to expectations. That all being said, this is a brand new story that I will post completely for free here. It is (almost) done, so no disappointment or burnout postponing this story. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you. Please Read: This is a six part story. Each part will have a new protagonist and a different style. Some are more dark than others, and some have unreliable narrators. Each part ends on it's own, but you will benefit from reading them in order. Some things are set up early for later stories. Please feel free to ask any questions. If its not spoiled later on, I will be happy to answer. I'll post once a week, so you won't have long to complete the story. I hope you all enjoy. Part 1: Elise Her mouth gaped open as her well manicured finger pulled the email back up and down. She had reread the entirety twice already, when only the header truly mattered. “Congratulations!!!” It exclaimed with all the confetti and fireworks neatly animated around the bulging letters. The bubbling, boiling, bountiful, beautiful, boisterous energy wanted to explode out of her chest as Elise pulled the tablet close to herself. “Hahahahaha. Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! YES! I’ve won. I’ve won, I’ve won, I’ve won.” She bounced around like a schoolgirl asked to prom by the football captain, like a toddler given a giant lollipop, like… well nothing like her outward appearance would suggest. The short bob cut auburn hair framed both her freckled face, as well as the conservative diamond earrings, matched by the one held to her neck by a thin gold chain. Her white blouse and business skirt lay across her body still wrinkle free after a full day at the office. The anxiety was worth it. The scheming had been worth it. The consequences… will probably be worth it. Elise was free. FREE! Free for one whole week from the monster she had married. The self centered, egotistical, maniacal demon that she had sold her heart too. The sound of the front door closing broke her from her revelry as she quickly hid the tablet back under the master bedroom bookshelf. A secret spot only her and the weekly maid knew of. “Okay. Okay. Calm down.” Elise brought herself to center with a large breath. “Now to sell it.” Walking down the cathedral stairs, her heels clacked against the marble. Standing by the doorway was the cleverly disguised devil, himself. The broad shoulders, ink black hair, and deep brown eyes were what had attracted her (and many others) to the construction industry’s Elon Musk. Mark Deighlein was a third generation Welshman who’s smile rarely ever met his eyes. “Never miss out.” Would be the title of his book. The phrase could be applied to any part of his life. Her appetite, business ventures, travels… hell, even leg day if you could imagine that. From up on her perch, Elise looked down at the man who had deceived her. Had stripped her of her freedomn, and enslaved her very being to him. She knew his magic powers well and would have to be smart to get away with her plan. She called down to him, “Mark. Welcome home. Listen, I know you just got back, but I’d like to…” Without looking her way, Mark continued to put away his coat and work shoes. (What you wear must always fit the occasion. Work shoes do not belong inside the house, only house shoes… whatever those are.) “Come down here, Elise. No need to shout indoors.” Shit. Heading down the stairs, she slowly inched closer and closer. Once on the ground floor she was already regretting her compliance. The bear of a man stood nearly a full foot taller than her and without the multiple layers of business suit covering him, the vest he wore did nothing to conceal his 235lb muscular frame. “Now, what was it you were saying?” Stepping forward, Mark fully blocked the light of the doorway chandelier as he stood in front of Elise. “I… I won.” “Won what?” …………………………………………………………………………………………………….. The deliberations had been hard fought. Mark was not one to skip details, and Elise was sure he was doing something with his magic to make her legs wobble. Eventually the pair had retired to the lounge where she had brought up the email from before, but from her phone this time, she was able to show him all the details, including the competition she had signed up for without his permission. That… didn’t go too well, but the rest did. Some might call it begging and pleading, but Elise was happy to leave it at negotiating her case. Never before had she ever presented him with a contract, but her “initiative” was surprisingly well received. Now, three weeks later, scheduled time off for the both of them, and a fully cleaned house, Elise was ready for her plan to fully come to fruition. She had been giddy all morning, nearly screwing up the makeup process she so rarely ever needed these days. She smiled mischievously at the thought of what was to come. The payback. The revenge. The JUSTICE! It was all firmly within her reach now. She had just finished preparing refreshments in the dine-in kitchen when the sound of chimes rang from the front door. Walking briskly past her husband still watching some show about stocks, she allowed for one minor treat before the full buffet. “Mark. Turn off the television. The crew is here and I don’t want to make a poor first impression.” Her heart pounded in her chest as the words left her mouth. The pause afterword, doubly so, but before he was able to turn around and answer, Elise had already quickly left and made her way down the hallway to greet her holy avengers. She had barely thrown the door open before loudly exclaiming, “Welcome! You must be the crew they sent. Come in. Come in.” There were four in total. Three men, and one woman. All dressed plainly, with jeans and either jackets or hoodies. All standard working class, with only slight individuality amongst them. The girl and one of the boys had fairly intricate looking cameras while the remaining two were busy with a black puffball on a stick and a heap of folders respectively. However, they were all so relaxed having been caught talking amongst themselves, not even pointing a camera at the entryway. Elise could feel herself frown, “Why aren’t you recording?” The boy with the folders stepped forward, “Oh. Mrs. Deighlein. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stook out his hand that she reluctantly shook. “I’m Dewayne, from Desperate Housewives, Maryland. Sorry for the confusion, but I just have a few papers for you and your husband to sign before we can start filming. Two party consent and all that.” His smile was obviously to disarm the tension, but Elise was annoyed. She had already begun to push with that comment to Mark earlier. If they couldn’t film without signing first, she might have just screwed this whole thing up. “On the show, you always film meeting the housewives.” Dwayne rubbed the back of his head as he clarified, “I’m sorry Mrs. Deighlein, but that’s just a bit of camera magic. We can film that after everything is signed. Now, we are going to be with you the whole week, so this is Danny, Ri…” Elise needed those papers signed and that camera rolling. Interrupting the boy she turned on her heels back towards the lounge, “Come on then. Best to get everything settled.” Biting her lip, Elise internally screamed as she saw Mark calmly pouring himself a shot of Tullamore at the bar. The T.V. was framed into the wall, dead quiet. Whether this was a good thing, or bad, was yet to be seen. Flashing a smile Elise tried to gauge how screwed she was, “Honey. The crew is here. They just need us to sign a few documents and then they can get started. Isn’t this exciting?” “Of course.” He took a sip from the irish whiskey before continuing, his eyes trained on her frame, “Now, why don’t you go grab the portable copier from my desk and hurry back.” The T.V. now forgotten, Elise smiled as she turned to go carry out her task, happy that her earlier fumble hadn’t screwed this whole thing up. “Pet.” The degrading nickname stopped her in her tracks. Quickly looking to the hallway, she worried that the crew might have heard, but from the sound of things, they must be bringing in equipment with them. One could hope. “I would also like you to do one more thing for me.” Elise didn’t dare turn back. She knew whatever sadistic smile her husband had on his face right now would buckle any bravado she had worked up thus far. “Yes, dear?” “Open the bottom right desk drawer for me.” Elise could feel her face heat up. A mixture of embarrassment and fear overwhelmed her as she spun around. “You promised!” Thankfully his focus was on the glass drink in his hands and not at her. “So I did. I’m not going to do anything so long as you don’t. I just want you to take a look inside. As a reminder.” “I don’t have to bring anything?” “Nothing but the copier.” He smirked, “Or did you already forget?” Elise turned back and stomped her way off away from the crew and her villianous tormentor, “Of course not!” Not a moment too soon as she could hear introductions taking place just as she had taken the first few steps upstairs. Down the hall and to the right she counted the doors until she had finally made it to the one she often dreaded. Living in a new home was sometimes weird, but only a few months here and she was intimately familiar with every nook and cranny of the mansion. All except here. The few times she had been to the study had been less than pleasant. Elise was pretty sure this was where he condensed his cursed magic. It would make sense why he was both here so often, and why she was only allowed when given express permission. Thoughts of subterfuge ran through her mind as the wide wooden door swung open to a room filled with a rich musk unnatural to such a new home. I could access all his files, find/destroy any kind of dirt he has on me, maybe find his phylactery and rid the world of his evil for good. I could also… just not… open the cabinet. Just tell him I did. Elise quickly shook the thoughts from her head. He would know, and she would suffer. This was not only a job he gave her, but probably a test. It would not surprise her if he was standing right behind her. Spinning around the woman in the expensive green dress and black leggings was met with dead air. Calming herself again, she made her way into the den of evil. Books of necromancy, baby harp seal harvesting, and taxes lined the bookshelves imported from some place where death squads had killed the natives. The thin portable copier sat at the edge of his thick desk, as if it was already waiting for her. Quickly gathering it in her hand, Elise almost left, but found herself possessed. Dark magic coursed through her legs as she was forced to walk over behind the desk and stand in front of the dreaded drawer. The redhead had rarely found herself in this room, that fact is true, but probably 40% of the time, when she was ordered to come here, Elise found herself opening this drawer. With cramped fingers, she slowly reached down to grab the brass handle, the cool metal surface chilled by Hades' breath. Opening it in slow measured amounts, the contents were finally revealed. Elise felt herself go white at the mere thought of how the tools inside had been used on her. Why he had kept these items here, where she was banned, was an easy question to answer. She could imagine how he would smile to himself after devouring another soul at his desk, leaning over and pulling this portal to her own personal hell open. How he would laugh at the thought of her misfortune and how the tools inside held such sway over her being. Standing up, Elise hurried back out before roughly closing the door and heading back to the lounge. Several boxes were brought in and Mark was casually talking to Dewayne and directing the other three on where to hide their equipment out of sight when he saw her, “There she is. The star of the show. My not quite desperate, house wife.” “I brought the copier.” Dewayne stepped up and took the offered device before Mark could, “Wow. This is something. I’ve seen them in the stores, but never actually out in the real world. Does it connect to your laptop?” Mark laughed as he poured two more glasses of whiskey and then grabbed a few cokes from the minifridge. “It just connects to my cloud account. I’ve already got a folder set up so we can get through this quickly.” The next two hours passed by painfully slow. Mark, the cautious creature that he was, took his time reading the book of documents to sign before so much as touching his pen. In the meantime, Elise was politely asked to show the three unoccupied crewmembers around the house while Dewayne answered any questions Mark had. Elise could barely muster a modicum of enthusiasm as she walked through her home. Not only was the “magic” of television production being ruined by her giving her First Look off camera, but the thought that Mark would find something objectionable and call the whole thing off weighed heavily. Finally she could hear laughter back in the lounge. Dropping her monotone description of the small pool sized bath, Elise rushed back with the crew in tow. “No need to worry. You wouldn’t be the first I’ve caught with something like this.” Her heart sank. Mike must have found something. Her smile felt cracked as she rushed in to see Mark signing the papers, “Oh. Umm… Is everything all right?” Mark looked up after dating next to his signature and held the pen out to his wife, “Of course. We just need you to sign now and then I can scan the documents while you can do whatever it is they do on these shows.” Yes. Yes, yes, YES!!! Her heart was pounding away like a jackhammer. She felt positively manic as Dewayne's voice grew further and further. It had no significance as her eyes followed his fingers to all the areas she needed to sign. Her hand felt like it was gliding on ice with each stroke as finally she felt the glory of victory rain down upon her. “I must thank you for providing a female camera woman. My sweet little Elise can get quite shy. I hope that you take care of her, Sofia. No offense Richard.” The sound of another moniker brought Elise down to Earth just as she finished the last signature, but little embarrassments would mean nothing soon. “None taken, sir. And if we need to do voice and sound without Danny, we have small equipment we can help you all with.” “So shall we begin?” Elise smiled up at Mark with as much malice as she could muster. “Mark, you can handle this paperwork while I introduce myself and the house. You can handle that, can’t you?” Everyone was quiet as they waited for Mark’s response. The power, the control. He can’t say a thing. He can’t do a thing. I have him completely under control now. Like the good little puppy he was, Mark smiled back and chirped, “Of course, Honey. Go have fun.” And have fun she was very much keen to do. But this was just the beginning. She smiled and danced for the camera as she “welcomed” them to her home. No detail was spared as she waltzed through the mansion with the camera hung on her every word. This piece was from Turkey, another from Moldova, and this desk was auctioned off from the Washington collection. Every desk, chair, painting, and installation was the culmination of her wealth and her achievement, but towards the end of her tour, was her power. Looping around she had purposefully avoided the lounge that she knew Mark was probably sulking in. Licking his wounds and maybe finally realizing the pickle he was in. “And this, right here is my loving and dutiful husband, Mark. Say hi to the camera Mark. He can be quite shy.” She felt positively high. Never… truly never had she ever been able to come close to talking to or about her husband this way. The very thought could have consequences. “Hello there. I’m Mark Deighlein. I run a few companies in the construction and landscaping business. I hope my wife doesn’t seem too desperate… or maybe that’s what the show is about.” Oh so that’s how you want to play this? “Dear, the whole premise of the show is how desperate housewives can be because of their husbands. Now, I’ve given them a tour so why don’t you sit down and explain whatever it is you do.” Elise was not about to back down. She had four strangers living with her for seven days. Strangers with camera’s who weren’t under her husband's thumb already, and she was going to fully enjoy tearing him down from that pedestal he’s been riding high on. The challenge was left at that as the camera’s focused on Mark while Elise got right to the next step of her plan. Talking down to that tyrant was exhilarating. She felt light as air as she skipped over to the opened laptop in the den. Flipping it open, she looked over to Regaliax. She looked at all the new designer dresses, shoes, and accessories Mimi had made recently. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help support her business?” Mimi was sure to get a kick out of having to restock her private collection. Elise would have to get her coconspirator to tailor some of the cuter items later. I’ll have to schedule that this week. No way we can return any of this after that. It'll be my own little crossover revenge episode with her! Mimi and her wife had designed the online shop fairly plainly. Only those who knew the two would even get past the extra zero that came at the end of each item's price, but what Elise had taken into account was the large font of the final check out page. She sat there. Waiting. Biding her time, with her finger hovering over the purchase button. She almost decided to check in with her soon to be victim, when she could hear his hoof stomps echoing down the hall. Her timing was perfect as she quickly pressed enter the moment his shadow fell over her shoulder. “What was all that?” The ire in his voice was obvious only to her. It was the tone he often had when talking to one of his lackeys after they had made a mistake in front of the customer. The cool calculating tone of: you have irrevocable fucked up, but I can’t say that here. Here it is. My moment of truth. Elise turned around on the plush couch, looking back to thankfully see the camera’s were still rolling. “Oh, no need to worry about that. Just doing some online shopping while I was waiting for you to finish up.” Leaning over, Mark was able to see the wide list of items that were just purchased, but could no longer see the price. Nothing to confirm what he had just caught a glimpse of. “Oh, barely a pitance.” Her posh riposte was a clear lie. She knew it. He knew it. Their bank account knew it. Shoot, the only reason the bank wasn’t calling about potential fraud was the fact that she shopped at Mimi’s store frequently, albeit with significantly less allowance. A crack formed in the already jagged smile Mark wore, “How much?” “Oh, Mark. You silly man.” The words spilled out of her mouth. How many times had she silently mouthed these words after being put to bed? “No need to act like a miser. I could do a bit of casual shopping every day and not make a dent in OUR fortune.” Mark turned to face the camera woman, “Sofia, could you stand over by the side of the couch?” So you wanna try and ignore me? You left me alone and I already did all this, dummy. Time to nail home just how screwed you are. How in my palm you now are! “In fact, I’m planning on picking out some new furniture after dinner tonight. I already have reservations for Ella La Bistro down by the lake at 6:00.” Mark led Sofia to where he had directed before moving to the front of the couch. “The lounge is just too gaudy. I know you wanted it to reflect a more relaxed atmosphere, but I can’t allow you to humiliate me in front of our guests anymore with your…” Mark sat down on the couch next to Elise and away from where Sofia now stood, camera trained on the pair. He was so close that his imprint on the cushion caused Elise to slide closer, her shoulder bumping into his arm. Mark didn’t match her gaze as he sat, smiling and looking forward. “Elise?” “Uh. Yes… da… dear?” “What was our agreement when you told me that you had entered into this contest without my permission?” “Permission?” She had to get a hold of the situation. She had pushed too far, but now she had to salvage the rest of the week. “I don’t need your permission to…” “What was our agreement?” He looked down at her. His smile was curt and polite, but his eyes burned behind the relaxed expression. It cowed her almost immediately. Quickly looking to the crew, Elise wracked her brain on how to save face and explain their deal in as vague terms as possible. “We agreed to uh… act in er… act in a way that reflected our position.” Mark exhaled and nodded his head as he reflected, “Ahhhh. Act in a way that reflected our position?” He rubbed his chin as he leaned close and cocked his head, “But, honey. I don’t remember agreeing to that?” “Huh?” “You know what?” Mark reached into the front pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Maybe if you could read your contract out to me, I might remember?” How? How, does he have that? I made sure he didn’t get a copy. The only one is up in my… Mark began unfolding it before handing it over to the struggling woman, “I was super impressed, but couldn’t get it out of my head that it didn’t sound like something you’d write.” He leaned over as he gently placed the contract in her hands, “Didn’t sound like Mimi, or Spencer, nor the twins. Maybe Olive?” She looked up in horror. How much did he know. Do the other’s know? Are they okay? Mark shuffled for a second as he removed his jacket and folded it in twane before handing it up to Dewayne. “Dewayne, could you set this on the chair over there?” The crew were all speechless, save for Dewayne who just managed a quick, “S…sure.” “Now sweety.” His wide calloused finger touched the first paragraph of the contract Olive had written up for the cabal. “From the top.” The letters jumped and shook as she failed to control her hands, but it was barely a problem. Having read and reread this piece of paper countless times since she had gotten her hands on it, she could nearly recite it from memory. Taking another look around, she knew that very quickly the contents of the document would expose her. Her throat felt dry and her forehead was already forming beads of sweat as she began, “Identification of parties. This agreement is made between Mark Deighlein, (signer one) and Elise Deighlein, (signer two).” “Such a smart sounding document, read by such a smart sounding girl. Keep going, sweety.” He was enjoying himself. She had gotten past the first sentence with a relatively normal pitch and his degradment was edging her close to collapsing, but what came next… “Le… legal services to be provided. Signer one agrees that… that between the times of 10 a.m. Monday May the twelfth of 2022 and 5 p.m. May the 18th 2022, when in the presence of members of the show, Desperate Housewives of Maryland, that signer one will refrain from all activities outlined in section three of this document.” She looked around. Nothing yet, but now the fact that section three was mentioned… “Why don’t we skip right to those activities? We can skip over your section for now.” He was jumping right to it. Elise hadn’t been able to prepare herself. To come up with an excuse, to have an interruption, to stall. She stood up as she held the paper to her chest where no one else would be able to get a glimpse of its contents. “If I read that, then it will be a violation of the contract!” Grabbing her hand, Mark quickly pulled Elise towards him. Falling over his lap, she couldn’t even think to squirm before she found her arms pinned to her back. “What are you doing!?!?!” “Elise.” The magic was back. It sent shivers up her spine and forced her completely still. She wasn’t in control. He was. “Yes?” Her voice was unsteady and her gaze was firmly on the ground in front of her. “You already broke the contract.” “Huh?” “I thought you read it. Then again, you didn’t read the contract you just signed this morning, so it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t read…” “I DID READ IT!” Elise couldn’t remember the last time she had interrupted him. Given her position… She yelped as she felt a light tap on her bottom. Not a spank, but more like a pat. “Then if you read it, then you’d know that you needed to act like a big girl this week, and not like the spoiled brat,” THWACK, his hand clapped against the skirt of the dress that covered her rump, “that, you have been today.” The spank was nowhere near enough to get her to shed so much as a tear, but she quickly realized why Mark had positioned that girl at the edge of the couch. She had a clear shot of her now spanked behind. “Mark, stop! They are recording.” “That they are.” THWACK. That one stung just ever so slightly. “Everyone is going to see this!” “You should have thought about that before speaking to me like you did this morning.” THWACK. “But I…” “Or when you introduced me.” THWACK. “Mark, what about your reputation?” She shouted out. Elise waited for the next spank, but it didn’t come, however she could still feel Mark’s hand holding her down. Carefully she twisted herself to look up at him only to go pale at the look of his soft smile. A smile she knew all too well. Mark was gone. “Daddy?” “That’s right, princess. And Daddy is going to show everyone how much,” THWACK. “his reputation,” THWACK. “means to him.” THWACK. Elise could feel her dress being pulled up passed her hips, fully displaying her silk black panties beneath her sheer tights. “No!” She could feel the sting beginning, but a bare bottom spanking, “You can’t show a naked woman’s butt on television!” “I’m only showing how to properly discipline an unruly little girl.” THWACK. While still not completely bare bottom, that spank had hurt. In her distant past, Elise had been spanked by a number of people in less public situations, but Mark’s giant like hand had always been the worst. A single stroke from his hand was nearly as bad as the cane she had only once been brave enough to try. I have to stop this! “You!” She looked over to the camera man who had now positioned himself on the other side of the couch, meaning she was being filmed from both ends now. THWACK “Little girl, it is not polite to refer to grownups as “You”. When you address an adult you will refer to them properly.” The pain in her backside was increasing and beginning to cloud her memory. “Ummm. George?” THWACK “Not even close, sweety. Try again.” She really had no idea. Hell, if you asked her what the color of his hair was, she’d probably have a hard time without him right in front of her. He was just the camera guy! “Collin?” THWACK. “Where are you getting these names from?” “GIVE ME A HINT!” Her legs were now kicking out with each spank. Ants danced across each cheek. “It starts with a R.” It all came back to her. Mark had said it earlier. “RICHARD!” THWACK. The tears welled up in her eyes as she screamed out, “I GOT IT RIGHT! Why did you spank me!?!” Mark rubbed Elise’s inflamed bottom in firm slow circles, “That’s not how you address an adult, little girl.” “Mr. Richard.” Elise heard her daddy practically purr, “That’s a good girl.” Elise sighed before the feeling of Mark’s fingers began to pull back the waistband of her tights. Frantically she looked back at the cameraman, “Mr. Richard, I revoke my consent to be filmed. Please leave and delete your recording.” Richard looked nervously towards the back of the couch at what must have been Dewayne who quickly moved to the front and crouched down to near eye level with Elise. He couldn’t quite maintain eye contact though, once he started, “I’m sorry Mrs. Deighlein…” Mark spoke up from above, “Elise will do for now.” Dewayne looked up and cleared his throat, “Oh. My apologies.” Looking down at Elise again, he started over, “I’m sorry M… er… Elise. But according to the contract you signed, the only person who can tell us to leave, is your husband.” “Daddy.” Mark corrected, and Elise blushed at. Dewayne swallowed hard, “is your… daddy.” “What, how?” What could she possibly have signed? Elise felt the tights rip as they were roughly pulled from her waist. “No! Explain yourself!” Dewayne looked away as he blushed, “You, uh… We erm… When we record everything going on in the er… houses we shoot at. Sometimes things get heated and sometimes people will kind of try to stop us recording.” “You can’t just record without my permission.” “We can’t record without the homeowners permission.” Dewayne corrected. Elise was slack jawed at the implication. Of course she didn’t own the house. Everything was in Mark’s name. But wait… “You still can’t record me!” “Well you see…” Mark cut in, “That’s why you have to read those contracts, Elise.” Looking up, she could see part of the dark waistband held loosely in Mark’s hands. He smiled condescendingly at her, “When you signed the contract, you gave your right to revoke consent to the homeowner.” Dewayne jumped back in, “That’s right. Everyone in the house signs that right over to the homeowner, that way we can avoid conflicts.” “So, BABY girl?” The emphasis was not lost on Elise. She wouldn’t think Mark would take things this far, but even further… “How much did you just spend at Mimi’s” “Thirty-six.” It was barely a whisper. Hardly a hint on the wind. “How much?” Elise spoke up a bit louder this time, “Thirty-six.” There was tension in the air. A hard silence that held everyone’s breath. “Thirty-six, what?” His magic once again pushed past her resistances and without any warning the words dribbled from her lips, “Thirty-six thousand dollars.” Dewayne’s face was the first thing she saw as she looked up. The pure horror in his face was mirrored by the look on Richard’s face as well as Danny’s whom Elise was just now noticing. His mic had dropped down, far enough that it was probably in Sofia’s shot. Oh Sofia. Looking back, she could see that the camera woman also shared the same ghastly half open mouth image that her coworkers wore. Yup. Just the same. And then… Elise looked up towards Mark. Her stomach dropped and the tiniest trickle escaped past the thin lace of her big girl panties and onto the wooden floor below. Drip. Drip. Drip. The few drops caused the only sound in the room as the stone faced frown looked down on the terrified girl. It was like slow motion as she watched his hand rise up in a steep arc, before coming down like a tidal wave onto her damp bottom. SMACK! The wet smack against her bottom lit up every pain receptor she had ever felt. A solid hunk of force rippled through her entire body as the pain from the spank forced its way up and into her brain. Elise let out a shriek as Mark began to lay into her. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. The pain continued on and on. The first blow was the most forceful, but the continued assault on her cheeks ignited into an inferno on her surely bruised backside. “How much are you allowed to spend without Daddy’s approval?” The snot had clogged her nose, making her response raspy and ruff, “Five… five hundred.” SMACK. “Owweeee! Please. Daddy, stop! I thought… ugh… I thought…” SMACK “You thought that some dumb little contract would stop me from tanning your hide when you spent over seventy times your allowance?” “YES!” SMACK “Were you right?” “NO!” SMACK “No, what?” SMACK “NO, DADDY!” Elise lay over Mike’s lap sobbing into his leg as she felt the dam fully break. The watergates were open and she proceeded to fully soak her panties, her dress, and her Daddy’s lap. “Uh, oh.” Mike’s singsong voice cut through the heavy breaths. Pulling Elise up onto his lap he pulled her head into his shoulder. “Looks like little Elise went potty on Daddy’s lap.” Elise couldn’t resist the comfort that came from her daddy’s soft bottom pats, nor his soothing voice. His magic eroded any resistance she had and she fully sank into his hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Ummm…” Dewayne brought the pair's attention back to the company in the room, “Would you like to clean up. We can just…” Mark stood up positioning Elise to his hip where she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Yup, I’ve got to clean this one up. Get her into something more appropriate.” Something more appropriate. What a way to signal the final end to Elises week free from Daddy. Oh well. It was worth a shot. “Okay. Good luck with that. Richard, Sophia, you can take the cameras back to…” Mike paused by the starway, “Okay. All of you come along.” Dewayne fumbled with his words, “What? Oh. Oh, we can just…” Mike once again cut him off, “Earlier you said that we would could use some smaller equipment and Sophia for little Elise’s privacy.” No. Dewayne looked to Sophia who was just as shocked by the way this conversation was going. “Um.. yeah. But I don’t think…” “That won’t be necessary.” A collective, “Huh?” echoed through the room. No. Mark continued, “Little girls have no modesty, so you all are welcome to continue shooting as you are. Come on now. Time to get this babygirl into a nice thick diapie.” Oh, god that’s so much worse! “DADDY, NO!” SMACK. “Don’t you tell me no, little lady. I don’t even know where you could have gotten underwear like this.” Everything. All the little secrets she had hoped to hide, both from the monster carrying her up the stairs as well as the world watching everything those camera’s see, was coming out. “I doubt Mimi would be so bold. Unless Hannah has indulged in new play with Spencer, I doubt he would even have access to panties. I’m guessing one of the twins. Which one was it?” Elise buried her face into Mike’s shoulder. She might have been caught, but it would take a lot more than this to make her into a snitch. “I guess we should stop by my desk then. You left the drawer open, right?” “Claire! It was Claire that got me the panties.” Smack. It still caused her to jump, but this time, the spank was much lighter. “There we are. I’m going to have to talk with Alec and Stacy about Claire’s behavior. It’s a shame. I heard that she had just graduated out of trainers.” I’m sorry Claire! Please forgive me. Looking behind the beast carrying her, Elise watched the camera crew following along like zombies. Eyes wide open, mouths either firmly shut or slightly gaping, following along towards her demise. Even looking from behind, Elise knew exactly where they were the moment Mike stopped and turned to face the nondescript door. The only thing hinting at this being anything other than a closet, as she had alluded to during her first two tours, was the card scanner by the handle, locking anyone out who shouldn’t be there. “Here we go. Now, does my princess want to show the nice T.V. people her room?” He was asking her, not telling her. Which meant she had a choice? Right? Rather than vocalize her desire to be as far removed from this as possible, Elise once again buried her head into Mike's shoulder. “Uh, oh. Someone is shy, or maybe tired. Maybe it’s time for a nap. Either way,” Mike reached his arm up and pushed his watch up to the scanner. An audible click and Mike turned to the crew, “Dewayne, I have my hands full, could you open the door and let your team in?” Dewayne for his part, had a thousand yard stare going on as he reached forward and pulled the handle down. The door was on safety hinges so as he pushed, it effortlessly and slowly opened up to reveal a sea of greens, and blues, and little patches of bright color throughout. “It's… a forest?” Sofia was the first to recognize the painted walls that looked like trees with all sorts of flora and fauna mixed accented by the plush green carpet, but it was Danny who noticed there was something much more embarrassing. “Is that a crib, and a changing table?” Mike strode in past the dumbstruck camera crew heading for the aforementioned padded table. “Yuppers. Everything for my baby girl.” Dewayne walked over to the rocking horse that was much to large to fit a child. Pushing it back and forth as he began to notice all the other infantile paraphernalia he spoke as if only to himself, “That’s what he meant when he said diapers. This isn’t for a child.” All eyes, and cameras, were on Elise who was now fully splayed out on the animal print changing table. A thick white diaper with little animal cubs printed on it was brought out with a bottle of baby powder and layed next to her head. “Well, Elise may not look it, yet. But you have to agree that she has acted like a child.” Mike smiled down at the girl he was about to fully humiliate with all the love and adoration of a doting father. Elise for her part could only lay back and wish she was elsewhere. She had lost. Her plan had failed, and now the whole world would know about her. She had no idea what Daddy was thinking when he exposed her like this. Sure, she had been a bit of a brat, but why can’t she have all the fun she wanted for once? “It’s not fair.” Elise pouted. Mike brought out a pair of scissors and began cutting through not only her only pair of underwear, but also the green dress she wore. Could it be replaced? Yes, but the wet feeling around her butt meant that the rayon fabric would need to be fully cleaned and sanitized. Something neither of the two had done in years. “What’s not fair, baby?” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. Why would he hurt her like this? “I don’t want the whole world to know what we do.” She could feel the tears coming freely now. “And why is that, honey. You said yourself that this is who you are deep down. You don’t want to share this with the world?” The cut clothes were removed and Mike brought up the heated wipes. “I ONLY WANT TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU!” The sentiment lay heavily in the air as Mike began with her legs. “And what about Mimi? And Spencer? And everyone else you get to play baby with?” “Them too! But that’s all private. They are also into the kink scene. Spencer is a bigger baby than me!” A wipe right down the middle had her shiver in pleasure for just a moment before her face went right back to its deep shade of red. “Oh baby liked that? Anyway, your right baby. Daddy isn’t going to show the world how much of a pamper packing, thumb sucking, tamper throwing, diaper baby you are. Right, Dewayne?” Elise looked over to the camera crew, blushing as she could just barely make out the reflection of a nude body on top of a changing table in the black lense. Dewayne nodded his head, “While there isn’t anything per say in the contract about not filming sexually explicit content, we can’t exactly put anything up into the public either.” Mike chuckled, “It’s also not a great idea to get on a person’s bad side when they have near unlimited access to all kinds of heavy machinery, a questionable workforce, and innumerable empty worksites.” The threat was clear and positively received, based on the looks of everyone it had been directed to. Elise was still fuming, “Then tell them to stop filming, Daddy!” SMACK. “Little one, I have had enough of your tantrums today. You are to be the most well behaved baby on the planet for the rest of the evening, or we can head straight to my office. I don’t want to hear a single whine out of you. Am I clear?” Fully cowed, Elise felt her thumb slip past her lips and into her mouth, “Yeth, Daddy.” “Again?” Mike sighed as he reached down to pull the digit from her lips before pushing a thick Nuk 10 pacifier into the girl’s mouth. “Gotta break that habit one of these days.” Lifting her by the ankles, Mike slid the thick diaper under her bottom before laying her back down on the elevated cushion, “There. Now, the public doesn’t get to see baby Elly, but Daddy can always use more baby videos. So the nice camera crew are here to stay.” Looking over to the now nervous group Mike offered an olive branch, “I would be very keen on purchasing a high quality version of the content you won’t be making public. Very keen.” The crew looked to each other before focusing on the odd spectacle before them, convinced that whatever weirdness they may have gotten themselves into, a nice paycheck at the end would be worth it. “Now, since you were so rude to them, I think that our friends should get a say in your punishment. First, Danny. Give me a number between 30 and 180.” “Uh, 65?” “Richard, yes or no?” “Yes or no?” Mike chuckled, “Only one, please.” “No.” “Hmmm, conservative. Most people say yes. Dewayne, pick one, two, or three.” “Three.” “Okay, and finally Sofia. I’m sorry I have to be gendered about this, but no other man is allowed to put hands on my princess. I also fully believe in consent so for this question I’ll spell it out. Do you want to tape up this little brats diaper?” Sofia squirmed in place for a second, obviously against the thought at first, but shrugged her shoulders and handed off the camera to Dewayne, “Sure… I guess. Just show me how too…” “Ah, ah, ah. First, let’s hear what everyone else has chosen for baby Elly.” Elise for her part was suckling hard on her binki. The questions he asked could relate to anything, but the thought of someone not in her community participating in her treatment had her blushing all kinds of red. Thoughts of getting up and running out the door crossed her mind, but the moment she shifted her bottom, the stinging heat she felt on her seat convinced her that her idea would not at all be worth it. In the end if no one else is going to see it… I guess it’s just kink play? Ugh. Where’s Dashy? Looking around the stuffed horse was spotted resting on the crib. Making grabby hands towards it, Elise knew her Daddy would quickly retrieve her comfort friend. “Oh?” Mike did in fact notice, and instead of waiting, he quickly retrieved the animal for his girl. “Now for the results. First answer was 65, which means princess gets a 65 minute nap.” Okay, not so bad. “Next, the little girl is lucky. Bound to her crib, yes or no. Richard says no.” Oh, thank god. Richard, I’m sorry I ever forgot your name! Looking over she gave silent thanks to her savior, who returned it with a nod. “And finally. Dewayne, the meanest man in the land, said that whittle baby Elly needs a full cleaning with,” Reaching down, Mike pulled up a jar with little clear pellets that he roughly dropped on the table, “Three! Count em. Three suppositories.” Burying her face into Dashy, Elise was mortified. Three suppositories meant that the 65 minute nap she was getting would invariably end up stinky. Glistening them up with lube, Mike made quick work of the task as Elise squirmed and mewled at each invader. It wasn’t pleasant, but the jar was only half full, meaning this wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar process for the girl. Next came the powder and finally Sofia was directed on how to properly tape up her Safari diaper. “There we go, all wrapped up and sweet smelling… for now. Sofia, before you go back to the camera, do you mind picking out a onesie from the closet next to the rocker?” Making her way over Sofia hesitated as she opened the sliding wood door. “Oh. Oh my.” Every article imaginable that could fit in a toddler’s closet was there. Onesies yes, but also dresses, shortalls, footed sleepers, childish costumes, and most embarrassingly… “Is that… a straight jacket?” Sophia looked in awe as she pulled out the garment. Mike walked over, shocking the dazed woman when he gently grabbed the buckle and strap material from her, “Yes, and it’s not a onesie, so maybe we should just go with a standard pink.” Coming back to the table, Sofia’s choice forgotten, Mike helped the now desperate girl into her soft pink onesie. It was clear the poor girl was on the brink and Mike seemed keen on containing the imminent smell behind soft cotton. Being jostled around wasn’t helping her as Elise began feeling the cramps that came from suppositories. “Hold on a minute. What's that?” Elise followed Mike’s gaze to the stomach of her onesie. “What’s, what?” Mike’s thick hand rested on her lower stomach. Too late, Elise realized what he was about to do as she watched her lower belly pressed downward. The combined pressure was too much as Elise let out a moan. The spread open position was doing nothing to help keep the tidal wave of sludge out of her waiting diaper. It was impossible, given her position and the suppositories to hold on for more than a few seconds before she was loudly filling her diaper. Wave after wave of mush pushed into the seat of her pants and she filled her diaper like a toddler. The poop smeared across both cheeks as she exhaled deeply after the cramp had subsided. As she looked down at her now bulging bottom, she could just see the brownish white peeking out from behind the snaps of her onesie. “Okay, I think that’s enough for now. Unless the smell of poopy pamper sounds exciting to you four, I recommend you head downstairs.” The crew did just that and took their leave at Mike’s advice. Finally alone again, Mike bent over and passionately kissed Elise on the lips. A gesture sleepily, but happily returned. “Not exactly how you imagined this week, is it?” “I had you. I could have done anything I wanted and you could do nothing about it!” “Not for one second.” “Not when you cheat.” Ellie felt her bottom being smooshed against her as Mike’s hand kneaded the fresh mesh into her backside. “Hey.” “Hey what?” His other hand moved to the front of her diaper as his thumb firmly pressed directly into her slowly moistening crotch. “Hey, stop. I’m messy.” Her pout had been replaced with a moan as the feeling of her used padding being pressed against her sent waves of ecstasy budding across her body. “You always were a little diaper slut. Messy diapers never stopped you before.” “Daddy…” “That’s right, baby girl. Now, I bet being seen getting your naughty bottom tanned over my lap excited you. I bet the thought of messing yourself in front of total strangers has you positively flustered.” Leaning down he whispered into her ear, “I bet knowing that the very next thing I’m going to do is put you in that crib to take a nap in your mess while I go downstairs and explain to those very same people that you tried to use against me, that this kink and these diapers were all your idea has you ready to squirt all over your favorite diapies.” “Daddy! Daddy, please. I was a bad girl. I’m sorry daddy. Please. Please let me cum!” Pulling back the look of betrayal on his little girls face had Mike positively rock hard. “Nope. Daddy, isn’t going to get you off it your messy, stinky padding.” Elise sulked as she was carried over to the crib. However, that changed as a vibrator was dropped next to her. “Daddy wants his naughty baby girl to make cummies in her poopy diaper all by herself. Except. This time,” Reaching over he turned on the baby monitor. The baby monitor, that both of them knew connected to the speaker down in the lounge, where all the crew were. “You have to do it while everyone can hear you.” Elise looked mortified. Her gaze going between her Daddy, the wand, and the monitor. She was speechless as she watched him walk away, before turning off the light and closing the door. Smiling to himself, Mike wondered if it would take her long to cave. If he would get back to the lounge before or after she had already started. He knew it wouldn’t take long. After all, she was one desperate little house baby.
  5. It's been a while since I've written or read anything ABDL related. Some of you, like me, feel the compulsion come in waves. One such wave struck today, and I ended up writing this as a form of therapy. Obviously I didn't fall into the Diaper Dimension, but I have a different happy ending of sorts. Still, it's a beautiful dream, and I hope you enjoy it. *** I remember the Before Time in dreams. There, I’m still a little girl’s heart in a grown man’s body, lost in too large a world, regardless of size. There, the cold is all consuming, and always finds me no matter where I hide; no matter how many blankets I use to smother my bed. At my age I should know better - be better, stronger; know by instinct how to navigate this life I was always destined for, outside the nest and out of my mother’s arms. Except that I never had a Mum, or even much of a Dad. Growing up I watched friends with whole families who could afford to take love for granted. What love I had were table scraps, but after a while you make peace with starvation. You learn to survive as best you can. Nobody wants to hear a grown man cry about a lost childhood, so I stomped it down and did the next best thing - tried to lose myself in the arms of women. I can still see her face, although it was many faces. Steph, Jenn, Lisa - different people, but similar in the loneliness I felt with them. I guess you could say I had a type. In all of them I saw the same smile; joyous laughter waning into tight, long-suffering grins, and eyes that sought out a man through his ever-present despair. How could I forget the looks on their faces when I told them the ugly truth? What was inside me, that she was still a child, and that she was lonely. Sometimes confusion, sometimes disgust, and sometimes anger in defiance of my words. Anything to avoid the fact that they didn’t love a man, but a twisted ‘thing’ in a man costume. “What do you expect me to do about it?” she/they snapped. “I’m not your mother. I’m not here to kiss your boo-boos better.” As if I ever knew what that was like. Such was life in the Before Time; a waking nightmare suffered until death. I wasn’t even awake before I started crying. The bars of my crib were a haze through the salty tears. Big feelings filled my chest, and next I knew I was wailing at the top of my lungs! The Before Times were over, but their memory still followed wherever I went. Then Mommy appeared, just like she did the first time - as an angel stealing me up for the rapture. My back and my torso slid into her hands, feeling her warmth flowing into me, already sapping the sadness. Hers was the power to reach into my chest and lift the weight that held me below the surface. “It’s alright, babygirl,” she cooed. Babygirl - not a yucky boy, but a princess who needed her Mommy; who was safe and never wanting for kindness. I loved my long, auburn locks; my pastel pink sleeper and all my pretty dresses - and the larger than life woman who adored them all; adored me! I clung to her as though my life depended on it, and with my head resting on her breast soothed to the gentle beat of her heart. And she held me back, bouncing me in her arms and stroking between my shoulders. Of course she took the time to do a sneaky diaper check - I was soaked like I was every morning, but that was a later problem. The nightmare eased its claws but still lingered. It plucked the strings of shame, echoing voices long since passed. My little hands pawed at Mommy’s nightshirt, desperate to get closer than close. A cold shiver ran over my skin as the tsunami threatened to come crashing down, pulling me to depths not even Mommy could reach. How could someone as sweet and as wonderful as her ever want someone like me? I grasped for an answer, but fell short. The trap door fell open and I fell once more into the dark. “You should’a left me,” I said. “I know dat I’m a bad girl, an’ I’m broken, an’ need to grow up, an’-” Mommy hushed me and bounced me higher to her shoulder. She cradled my head and rocked me back and forth, and never once made my panic her own. I smelled her hair and the warmth of her skin, and evaporated into a sea of love; love that I didn’t understand - and still don’t - but craved for longer than I could say. “It’s alright, little one. Mommy’s here now,” she sang. “You’re a good girl, you’re a sweet girl, and you’re a loved girl. You’re not broken; just hurt, and that’s okay. I still love you, just the way you are.” And I believed her. She loved me - me, who is a girl; not a yucky boy in an ill-fitting suit. Me, who thought that love was a beautiful lie, who wasn’t allowed to be pretty, who was taught to swallow pain no matter how great. Against everything I knew Mommy appeared, and with her voice, her touch and her caring the world became small again; soft and safe in the way a little girl needs. Some call this dimension a curse, but for me it’s the greatest miracle. It brought me to Mommy, and given the choice I’d fall into it all over again.
  6. This is the first story I'll be posting here and I'm really excited to share what I've written! This is an ongoing story that looks at the intersection of identity, healing trauma, and regression through the lens of a newly awakened mage in a modern magical setting. - Vi Dark Rattle: Chapter 1 - Shadows (cw: gender dysphoria, familial trauma) Dark shadows draped the interior of a young mage’s cluttered studio apartment as the sun began to set. The mage lay motionless in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing the night would come quicker. He held in his hands a strange object, resembling a ceremonial drum with a gourd tied around the stretched leather surface like a hybrid percussion stick and rattle. “You’re my ticket to a better life. Don’t disappoint me, or I will break you apart.” The mage whispered towards the relic in his hands. A small sound of beads moving slightly emanated from the device in response as a ray of sunlight spread across the bed from the sinking sun. The mage grinned wildly and began to speak once more. “The broker who sold you to me claims you are a spiritual tuner. I hope they’re right. I’ve been living in squalor with Jacob for almost a year now and I still haven’t had my awakening. I can perform parlor tricks at best.” The sound of rattling once again filled the room and the young mage began to shake with anger. “I’ve done everything Jacob has told me, I’ve severed the ties to my former life, I’ve moved into this shit apartment with him, and I’ve done all of his stupid rituals for nothing! I’m tired of it! I will become a modern practitioner of magic on my own terms, at my own pace! Fuck Jacob!” The rattling became stronger and a single thump of the drum responded to the last exclamation. It was then that the mage smiled wickedly and let out a cackle as his grasp on the relic tightened. “Yes! You understand! This is my journey and you will be the first tool of many I use to surpass Jacob and all the other snobbish mages that look down on me. Together we won’t hear another lecture of caution or of patience! Oh no, we’ll finally get the praise we deserve.” The rattling intensified and only stopped when footsteps in the hallway outside the apartment came to stop outside the door. With a quick jerk, the relic was shoved under the pillows beneath the mage, who then pretended to wake from a nap as his roommate entered the apartment. “Yo. You fall asleep while meditating again? Remember what I told you: focus is key.” Jacob said as he shut the door behind him and set down a handful of takeout bags on the crowded counter near the fridge. “And what gives with the dishes? I thought I asked you to clean them while I was at work?” “Jacob, I am not your maid. I’m here to learn what I need to and then move on with my journey as a mage.” “You might not be my maid, Andy, but you are my roommate until you learn to wield the power within you. And, since you’ve taken the longest out of anyone I've helped awaken to their powers, the least you could do to repay me for my trouble is to help out around the apartment.” Jacob retorted as he stuffed his takeout into the fridge. “You make it seem like I’ve done nothing to help you, Master. ” “Ew, cool it with that master and apprentice nonsense, this is the twenty-first century not some fake-ass fantasy novel. You’re my friend, not my apprentice. Now look, I got a date uptown and I plan to bring them back home for some good times. Can you promise me you’ll practice the incantations I taught you then find a place to crash tonight?” “Jacob, believe me, by the time you get back here with whatever poor soul you've stuck your talons into I will be long gone.” “Awesome. I’m off then, good luck studying!” Jacob replied after raising an eyebrow at Andy. Andy looked away and muttered an insult under his breath as Jacob sighed and gathered a few belongings into a bag. Andy watched Jacob as he pulled a small piece of chalk from his bag. With a flourish and a few words of power, he drew an outline of a rectangle into the air and in a flash it assumed the form of a door. Jacob smiled and waved goodbye to Andy who simply turned his head away, feigning indifference as Jacob opened the door and stepped into an alleyway in another part of the city. As the door shut behind Jacob, the chalk outline ceased, its glowing aura evaporating in a cloud of dust. Andy produced the relic from under his pillows and placed it flat on his bed before getting up to rummage through the fridge. “Ugh, what a slut. And it's just like Jacob to constantly think of himself and not get me anything! I bet he won’t mind if I take a few bites of his food, he can always conjure more.” Andy chuckled and began scarfing down the food within the small containers. Absorbed in this act of petty vengeance, Andy failed to notice the relic trembling softly as the last ray of light expired during the sun's disappearance from the sky. By the time the thumping noise was audible to Andy, it was already too late. “Hey, what are you doing? I didn’t command you to make noise!” Andy exclaimed through a mouth full of food. As he moved across the apartment to reach his bed, he realized something strange was happening. His foot struck a pile of books on the floor and he fell forward unto the ground, spewing food from his mouth and spilling the takeout container onto the floor. “Fuck!” exclaimed a voice that sounded very different than the one Andy was used to hearing. As the relic began to play a steady beat and the rattling became a vibration that echoed within Andy’s skull, he found it difficult to regain his composure and rise up from the floor. By the time Andy had gotten his feet under him, he realized the bed was almost the same height as himself. He reached out desperately towards the relic, his fingers just barely brushing the rattle as it shook and drummed against itself of its own accord, before he collapsed onto the floor. Visions of dancers in ceremonial garb from an age long past filled Andy’s mind as he writhed in pain, knocking over stacks of books and occult clutter across the apartment. The dancers marched around a blazing fire that seemed to reach up into the twilight sky and lick the strange twinkling stars that had appeared above him. Andy’s mind began to buckle under the weight of his vision and the sound of chanting in a foreign tongue permeated his thoughts. He cried out in pain, but the sound was closer to the screaming of a newly born infant. The stars overhead descended one-by-one into the fire, and Andy saw the body of a small toddler within the flames, being filled with the knowledge and power of the universe. He had just enough time to recognize that this was his awakening, before all conscious thought left his mind. In the middle of the floor, amidst a pile of messy clothing and scattered books lay the newly awakened mage. Their eyes fluttered open and darted around a now unfamiliar landscape. Their head felt as though it were aflame with thoughts that were too complex to understand. They attempted to stand but their body faltered under their effort almost immediately. When taking in their surroundings, the mage quickly realized something was horribly amiss, as they were no longer clothed and they seemed diminutive compared to their surroundings. With horror they held their fingers next to a nearby book and found the spine was bigger than they could hold with one hand. In an attempt to calm themselves they began moving their hands across their body, starting with their face which now had a layer of fat that had not existed just moments prior. A small tuft of hair arose from their scalp, but beyond that they had lost the rest of the hair on their head, including the full beard that had taken them months to grow. A plump roundness of the belly now protruded from beneath their upper torso, and chubby legs stuck out from under their body. With a sudden jerking motion they squished their stomach flat and stared in disbelief at what lay below. “Am I a girl now?” the mage attempted to say, but the words came out in a squished and garbled mess of mewling and gaggling. They explored several other utterances with mounting suspicion and disgust as they realized they could no longer speak coherently. With a sinking feeling, the mage determined that they had somehow become the young infant from their awakening vision. Once more they tried in vain to stand, falling back onto their butt just as soon as they lifted themselves off the ground. They let out a cry of shock and anguish, tears streaming down their uncharacteristically rosy cheeks. The sensations they felt now seemed incredibly vivid and more visceral. The rejuvenation of the body to match their spiritual form was too much to take and revulsion filled them as they realized the consequences of their forced transformation. As the moments passed, they grew more and more upset, their wailing becoming ear splitting and their discomfort growing. It was only when a long gaseous fart erupted from them that they were roused from their sorrow. The discomfort that was stirring within them was more than just disgust at their new form, but a sudden intense urge to vacate their bowels. The mage struggled to stand again, and fell forward onto their hands and knees. They desperately looked around for something to help them stand as they cursed their weak limbs. The mage’s eyes caught sight of the relic atop their bed that now loomed above them like a mountain. They needed to crane their neck all the way back to take in the immense size and shape of the bed, and despair filled them once more. The thought of climbing up to the relic seemed impossible, but they could think of no other way to attempt to undo the magic that had been woven into their body. Magic! That’s it! With a happy giggle that went undetected by the mage, they set to work locating a book of incantations amongst the scattered texts on the floor. The mounting sounds of indigestion shook their body and they quickly crawled over to a thick leather-bound book from the 13th century that contained a number of spells for the young mage to practice. The book had always been one of their favorites as an adult for its beautiful illustrations, a detail which they had kept a secret for fear of being accused of only enjoying the text for its pictures and not its esoteric contents. Upon opening the book the mage was left dumbstruck by the illustrations they now saw. The shapes and lines seemed to move across the pictures of mages conjuring spells and weaving reality. The colors shifted as though animated on the page in hues from unknowable spectra of vivid light. The young mage relished in delight at the discovery that their perception had become altered by their spiritual awakening, and they celebrated their ascension to true magical mastery with a set of adorable cooing noises. They patted the pictures with trusting enthusiasm as the colors and shapes bended to their touch. Only the sounds of their stomach’s imminent need to empty its contents across the floor brought them back to their senses. A wave of repulsion spread out from the mage’s inner sense of self. They questioned their body’s lack of self control and were jarringly brought back to the reality of their situation. If they did not quickly revert back to their previous body they would be utterly lost as their mind continued to regress. The image of them lying in their own shit in the apartment as an infant, when Jacob brought home his latest catch of the night, was too much for the young mage to handle. They would not allow themselves to be the laughing stock of the mage community for the rest of their life. Not after they had sacrificed so much in their journey towards enlightenment! They frantically turned their attention back towards the book to see what spells they could cast to counter or somehow reverse the magical effects of the relic, only to cry out in terror. They stared at the strange runes of the book, reduced to indecipherable blotches. They could not read words in this language any longer as their mind released its grip on rational thought and linear memory. However, simultaneous to this it was also expanding into understanding other abstract and impressionistic memories of their experience from their awakening into true mysticism. Runic symbols from ages long lost flooded their mage's mind like night stars alighting in the sky after the sun has set and before the moon appears to blot out the twilight. They remembered the lives of powerful mages whom they had never heard of prior to their awakening. They were losing the ability to do long division and more advanced mathematics for a wider mental vocabulary surrounding the way the seasons shift from Spring to Summer, a metaphor for their own rebirth that was not lost to them in that moment. Ideas for spells and rituals flooded their mind as the details of the past year became more and more difficult to recall. To center themselves they began the process of casting a spell that came to mind during their period of revelation. They attempted an incantation that they could still remember and awkwardly gestured with their tiny hands to mimic what they had been taught. To their surprise, the incantation finally worked for them and a streak of light materialized in the space between their hands. They willed the color to change and it shifted between brilliant warm hues. Burnt sienna gave way to a rich dark orange and the mage laughed with euphoria at having cast their first spell. The sound of their laughter caught them unguarded, as it pulled at memories lost to them since their early childhood. Brief flashes of their joy in manipulating conjuration and illusion magic as an infant enveloped their mind, and they were left awestruck as the colors of the spell before them flickered violently between different extremes of vermillion and deep sea blue. To their horror they realized that they had cast spells prior to this, as a young infant whose parents were absolutely contemptuous and terrified of their child’s gift. Despite being so young, they remembered long periods, sometimes entire days, when they were locked in their small bedroom in a misshapen crib. They would cast small enchantments and rudimentary spells to comfort themselves, but they were powerless to affect material change to their conditions. Their emotions swirled inside them with the intensity of a violent hurricane. They questioned why their parents could have been so negligent, and at what age they had begun unconsciously suppressing their abilities to receive the affection and love that their parents had starved them of. The streak of color that had been conjured before them evolved once more in hue and saturation to match their distress and formed a weightless blanket around them. A longing had finally been answered with comfort and warmth, and in that moment they briefly forgot the trauma they had endured and the journey they had taken to awaken to their inner truth. The spell allowed them to enter a state of relief, which had they been less distraught they would have been vehemently against. By the time they realized what they had done, there was no changing course. They felt their stomach lurch forward, and before they could physically react, their bowels exploded outwards. They let out a howl as matter poured from their body. In their rejuvenated form they felt a sensation of immense pleasure and satisfaction as their body moved to vacate its waste. However, mentally they were overwhelmingly upset and they tried to give voice to their frustration, but could only muster a yelp that caused drool to slip down the side of their chin. The shame and disgust within them was reflected in the magical blanket of light wrapped around them as it alternated between a jaundiced yellow and a vomitous green. It was then that a thin line of white pierced the air in front and above the mage whose tears were now causing ripples in the floating imagery around them. The resulting door that was carved out of the air allowed Jacob to return to the apartment, carried by a bulky bodied bear of a man. Jacob stroked the man’s chest and pulled at his exposed brown chest hair. Their hopes of time alone were unceremoniously dashed by recognition of a powerful stench. Jacob looked down to find the apartment in complete disarray. His takeout was left smeared across the kitchen counter and the laminate floor beneath it. Books were tossed about across every surface available, many left carelessly open and left together without purpose. An ivory and black jewel encrusted tribal drum with a small attached gourd rattle made a percussive beat that echoed around the room. And in the middle of it all was an infant crying out in despair atop a pile of soiled clothes. "Andy?!" Jacob gasped, slipping out of their midnight lover's arms to reach down to the infant mage and scoop them up into his hands. As Jacob picked the infant up, their minor prestidigitation of light evaporated, revealing their entire new form for both men to observe. "Or should I say… Annie?" A shrewd smile spreading across his face upon examining his roommate's new body. "You didn't tell me you had a tyke. I'm guessing you'd want me gone?" The gruff man behind Jacob remarked, producing chalk of his own. "Oh! Well, this is my daughter Annie! She's a new addition to my life, but I love her very much and she has just made me very proud actually! You wouldn't hold a single father responsible for the mess a talented baby can cause unsupervised—would you?" "Only if that single father agrees to never leave their little girl unattended again! I'm surprised though, Jacob. You never struck me as a parent." The infantile mage squirmed in the hands of their teacher and former roommate. They wanted to puke at the new name they had been given, and yet they felt something else behind their shame. They looked at Jacob with hatred behind tear stained eyes and tried to communicate with them, but only managed a small gurgle. "Don't you worry, Annie. I'm going to get you cleaned up and put you to bed while me and Alexander have some time together." "You still wanna go through with tonight?" "Annie here is a sweet little girl who is up way past her bedtime! With just a bit of magic, she'll be too busy playing poker with Merlin in her dreams to cause any more fuss." "Good. You know, to be honest, I didn't want to give you up to a certain little harlot." Alexander snickered. He then picked the infant mage up from Jacob's hands. The exchange happened so fast that the young mage was too shocked to protest. Jacob lifted a hand and a glowing aura encircled his hands and forehead. Small beads of glowing matter swirled into the air before Jacob as the books were rearranged and the entire room was transformed from a cramped bachelor pad in disarray to a gorgeous spacious apartment with adjoining rooms. With pools of pale fog, dimmed lights, and rose petals swirling around a bed of satin sheets visible in the newly conjured master bedroom, Jacob slowed the transformation spell down and looked to Alexander for approval. Alexander smiled at the sight of the bed and slowly repositioned the infant in his hands into a position on their back in midair, suspended from what seemed like invisible wires. With a quick flourish of his right hand, Alexander conjured a small garment into his grasp. The baby mage struggled against the firm hold of Alexander's magic to no avail as the older mage cleaned and diapered her. Within the mage's mind a battle of conflicting thoughts and sensations arose. Embarrassment and shame swirled against pure delight at being cleaned and wrapped in the smooth satin cloth. The sensation of the cloth tying itself around their body brought forth emotions that had long been forgotten in the mage's mind. Feelings of comfort, security, and love surged inside of them in a way that they had not felt since early childhood. The smooth material of the diaper made them cease their struggling and they absently stuck a thumb into their mouth without realizing they had done so. In their tender reflection a lost memory emerged of being called Annie during their prior infancy. As a young child, the mage's family members had always teased them with the name Annie until they grew into an older and much meaner child. The name originally came about during the period of time when they were still being brought to term, as their mother had insisted she would be giving birth to a girl and had chosen the name Annie for her child. Warm thoughts of being held in the womb and hearing the comforting sounds of their mother whispering the same name that Jacob and Alexander had begun calling them seemed to lull the mage into a trance where they simply laid back and allowed themselves to be overcome with happiness and bliss. New thoughts emerged as they remembered more and more of their early childhood. They had been bullied and called names for being too feminine as a little kid and while these thoughts had once brought intense shame and rage, they seemed to mean nothing to them now. In fact, given their current position, it was comical enough to cause them to giggle. Alexander noticed the infant’s mewling and smiled warmly down at the child. Alexander began tickling the toddler across their stomach and the young mage seemed absolutely delighted with the action. A small voice within them screamed in agony at the situation, but it was growing distant and beginning to recede, lost in the intensity of newfound comforting emotions. The mage found that they could accept that they were a girl now, perhaps even recognize that they were always meant to be a girl, but had been too terrified before to ever consider the possibility. Jacob had often asked them if they were living in their own deception and now it seemed to click in their awoken mind. Yet despite the gradual comfort of the name and change, the image of themselves being diapered was still too much to process fully. The voice that had screamed in defiance came back to the forefront of their mind and they began swinging their hands wildly against Alexander's tickling embrace. The motion was wasted as a deterrent, but the act brought their attention back to their surroundings. They realized that they had lost their opportunity to fight off the diapering, as the material was now snugly slipped into place around their waist. While Annie pawed in futility against the diaper wrapped firmly around their bottom, feeling the satin glide across her skin and begrudgingly releasing a coo of delight, Jacob orchestrated his magic towards the ever growing matter surrounding his hand. In a swift and graceful bow he completed the transformation spell by conjuring a bright pink crib with soft blankets, a mobile of stars and the moon, a teddy to match the crib, and a golden pacifier between his fingers. Seeing this, Alexander waved his hands around Annie and made an exaggerated gasp and exhale which coincided with an invisible force gently rocking Annie over and into their new crib. Jacob placed a hand over Annie and as soon as she opened her mouth to protest and inserted the golden pacifier into her mouth. Annie struggled to remove the pacifier but found herself unable to pry it free. Fighting against the urge to suckle and the exhausted weight under their eyes, Annie looked up towards the mobile and saw both Jacob and Alexander grinning above her. The blankets began to swirl and and swaddle Annie into a cocoon. Despite knowing she was stronger then the blankets, Annie's limbs felt heavier than lead. Alexander moved towards the rose covered bed in the other room, gliding a hand across Jacob's face as they departed from the crib. Jacob blew a kiss after him before turning his attention towards Annie. "Don't think I didn't see your little artifact on the bed. Using a crutch to awaken has consequences, as you are now aware of. If I had known you would be swayed by such folly I would have been more firm in my warnings, but now we are here. Your mind is likely going to change very much now, and you'll need more attention and guidance than you needed before. And don't worry little one, I won't tell a soul you shit yourself when you awakened, so long as someone continues to behave like a good little girl!" Jacob switched on the mobile as Annie tried to speak through their pacifier, to give some indication that they had retained their awareness through their rejuvenation but the pacifier in their mouth clamped their lips firmly around it. Annie watched through a narrow slit between the bars of her crib, as Jacob and Alexander began embracing each other in the doorway to the bedroom. As clothes began to be pulled off, the mages began inciting incantations, conjuring small lights and warmth to spread around their bodies as they entered a state of magical euphoria. They pair moved in synchronized motion into the bedroom and disappeared from Annie's view. She remembered how upset and revolted she had been when she discovered that Jacob was gay. Though as she reflected she began to realize that the emotions within herself were becoming clearer. The longing that existed within her for the power that Jacob could wield magically was not the only reason for their jealousy. The freedom Jacob had as an openly queer man was more sexual liberating then Annie had ever imagined would be possible, especially for herself. Annie's own attraction towards dating men had boiled rage and envy within her since the first string of hook ups that Jacob brought home in the time they had both lived together. Annie felt more tired then she could ever remember being as an adult. As she reached the edge of waking and sleeping, she heard Jacob's voice enter her head and whisper softly, "Rest well little one, you've a new life to live come the next dawn." Annie tried to say they were sorry for the multitude of aggressions and insincerity they had shown their caretaker, and that they felt horrible that they could ever have been so cruel to Jacob, but their thoughts were already drifting towards sleep. Jacob simply smiled from the bed beside his sleeping lover and let the connection between him and Annie cease. He closed his eyes and said in a soft voice, "I know Annie, you're forgiven. I'll tell you a thousand times over if I have to. I'll show you how wonderful this life can be with love and a bit of magic."
  7. The genesis of this story comes from a comment by @Sarah Penguin on my story That's My Fetish. This got me to thinking about the possibility of these "outlandish" scenarios we concoct in this community existing in the real world and how they'd be handled. Is this story any good? ?‍♂️ That's kind of on you guys to decide, but I do know that it was enjoyable to write and allowed me to prove to @TheMommyM that I'm not all doom and gloom and pain and panic ALL the time and I can manage to write something that I feel turned out pretty sweet when all was said and done. Anyway, I've taken up more than enough of your time, please enjoy and feel free to engage in discussion at the bottom and let me know your thoughts and feelings about the story. Closure By: The Unknown Author I sat in my car looking at the building ahead wondering how something so innocent and innocuous could be warped and perverted into something so terrifying and scarring. I knew the answer already, it had nothing to do with the place itself, it was just four walls and a roof, it was their actions that turned it into a void, a place where happiness would slowly suffocate leaving behind a battered husk of resentment and anguish. The sign on the wall beside the front door matched the one near the parking lot entrance, colorful clusters of balloons and baby blocks floating around a cartoon rabbit wearing a bonnet and a cloth diaper with a comically oversized safety pin holding it in place, the words “Happy Hare Preschool and Daycare” in pastel bubble letters above the rabbit’s head. I shuddered involuntarily in my seat as I read the sign, remembering the joy I’d felt the first day I’d started working there. Being a graduate of the prestigious “Happy Hare Preschool”, returning to my old Alma Mater cemented my feelings of accomplishment and personal growth as I looked at the small play area in the back of the building through the fence from the sidewalk and remembered swinging on the swings and playing in the sandbox, unaware that the whole world beyond that fence was waiting for me to come and grab it by the short hairs. He’d been the owner for a few months when I started working there, my interview to get the job had been done with his wife, a heavyset woman that made me feel very calm, like a grandmother would when she offered you cocoa on a cold afternoon. She’d been delighted to learn that I myself had attended the preschool and took that as a sign that I should indeed return, though without any formal teaching or childcare credentials given my recent graduation from high school, I was offered the job of “Daycare Assistant” rather than anything more formal. I’d been working there for a few weeks before I met him. Where his wife had been a kindly and calming person in her general aura and way she conducted herself in conversation, he was brusque and not at all pleasant to be around. Our first meeting bypassed any fanfare and pleasantry for him critiquing my work at stocking the changing tables and pantry’s, culminating in half of the work I’d done being scattered all over the floor with explicit orders to clean everything up and organize them again correctly, with the threat of having to find another job should I fail again. Having never dealt with a boss before, let alone one that made me feel stupid and inexperienced for a tiny mistake, I spent a fair amount of my break crying in my car that day and the rest of the week hoping I wouldn’t see him again. I sighed heavily as I shut off my car and opened the door, the heat of the day assaulting my air conditioned skin immediately. Moving to the trunk I unlocked it and lifted the lid, retrieving the bag within before closing the lid once more and locking my car up to head to the front door of the building. Papers littered the door, notices of closure and active police investigation weathered and aged, most torn almost completely off like the remnants of the police tape at the edges of the door frame. The front door was boarded up, but I set my bag down and pulled the pry bar I’d brought out and went to work removing the barricade, wiping sweat from my brow once I’d gotten it loose enough to allow me to access the door behind, smiling as my key still turned the lock with a satisfying chunk sound which let me enter the building. I clicked on my flashlight and moved it over the entryway, the beam passing over the small sitting area where parents could wait for their kids to be retrieved for pickup, then to the facility beyond and finally to the front counter where parents would check their kids in for the day. Returning my beam to the body of the building I felt another shudder run up my spine as I took my first steps into the traumas of my past. The smells triggered me first, the faint bouquet of ammonia and talc mixed with the staleness of age and dust beneath a thin veil of cleaning supplies, I imagined the smell would fit better in a senior home, but nothing about the things I saw could support that notion. The long row of changing tables was off to the side of the front area, tucked far enough away to allow for the smells of used diapers and accidents to be masked by walls and corners as much as diaper pails and air fresheners. I stopped at the first changing table, my flashlight illuminating it, the hope that under the harsh light in the darkness I’d see that it was nothing to be afraid of, that it being an inanimate construct of wood and plastic would get my quickened heart rate and breathing under control, but it didn’t, it just brought the flood of nightmares back to the front of my consciousness. I’d stayed late at the request of his wife, and at the offer of overtime pay for helping with the inventory of the various supplies we kept stock of. I remembered her offering me a cup of cocoa, her warm smile bringing the memory of my initial assessment of her being like a cocoa offering grandmother to mind which made me return her smile as I accepted the offered drink. It was a short time later, as I was counting the jars of baby food and the room started to feel like it was tilting, sending me staggering to one of the tiny chairs nearby only to crumple to my hands and knees, seeing the two sets of feet and legs approaching that I began to worry, but my shaky arms and legs gave out and blackness overtook me before I could fully grasp what was happening. The video recordings were my only link to what had been done to me during my unconsciousness, and having to not only see them, but have them be seen by a courtroom full of people made me nauseous as I lifted my light from the changing table and gave serious consideration to bolting, but I swallowed the bile down and pressed on, knowing that this was my only chance to do what I’d come here to do. Obviously no one in the courtroom had laughed at me, the humiliation I experienced from watching my unconscious body be stripped and diapered on a changing table made for actual babies and children was purely internal, the sheer magnitude of the violation and degradation was the prison that kept my mind locked up, unable to move forward with my life, but being a teenager on the cusp of womanhood and independence, looking to college and life in the adult world and seeing the ease at which someone could strip all of that from me and leave me reduced back to infancy was an impossible pill to swallow, until I did something to help the medicine go down. I’d woken up restrained in one of the cribs further back from the changing area in another room that I made my way to, my flashlight guiding me past the rows of changing tables, dancing across posters with cartoon characters urging hand washing and safe play until I came to the open door to the nap area. A dozen cribs lined the wall across from me with several near the door and the other small wall at the far end of the room, I steadied my breathing and passed through the doorway to the crib I’d been detained in, the smallness of it made me giggle nervously, startling me briefly until I realized the sound had come from my own mouth. All told, my detainment and torture lasted nearly three days, but in that time it had seemed like an eternity, the fear and humiliation keeping me in a constant state of panic that didn’t afford me the luxury of knowing how fast or slow time was passing. I think it was the feeling of betrayal from his wife that hurt the most, his actions making some kind of sense given the way he conducted himself, it wasn’t all that shocking to discover he was the kind of man that would hold someone against their will and torture them by forcing them to be his personal baby, but she’d always been so sweet and kind to me and to everyone else there, worker and patron alike, so to have her be the catalyst, the one that had drugged me in the first place really destroyed my ability to trust moving forward. When I’d woken up she was the one standing beside the crib looking down at me, the smile on her face, her hands clutched together in front of her chest like an aunt or grandmother eagerly awaiting her newest family member’s arrival into the world was deeply unsettling as I struggled to focus my thoughts and vision back to some semblance of normalcy. The pacifier taped in place within my mouth kept me from talking and the rope that bound my wrists and ankles along with my weakness from being drugged kept me laying there docilely, looking up at her in fear and confusion. I kept a mental tally of every infraction against me in my time of incarceration, at first just to keep my mind on something useful, like anger and hatred, but then it became a scorecard to be used against them should I make it out of the situation alive and not be killed and dumped somewhere for them to continue on doing what they’d done to who knows how many other people. I endured twenty two diaper changes, four baths, forty eight feedings from baby food to formula to bottles of milk or juice, two enemas, an even dozen naps, sixty eight spankings, and two hundred and ninety four instances of them “re-educating” me to think and behave like a baby. The one thing I was glad I never had a count for was sexual abuse, though I was sure that were she not constantly with me, I wouldn’t be able to say that. During the trial I had to relive all of those instances in gory detail as a hundred other eyes looked on at the videos. They saw me being forced to crawl to “Mama” or “Papa”, saw me gag and struggle against the invading spoonfuls of mush, saw me sob and beg to be allowed to use the toilet until I finally couldn’t control myself any longer and released my bladder and bowels into the diapers they kept me in all while listening to them heap on praise in syrupy sweet baby talk, the tone making my stomach turn even as I sat in the courtroom miles and time between me and that horrible place and that horrible event. Almost worse than the actual act was the years of therapy that followed, having to tell someone what I’d done and what was done to me, having to admit that I hadn’t slept through the night for months I’d been released and had resumed the bedwetting problem I’d gone over nearly a decade without because of the nightmares. I went through seven different therapists before I settled with Dr. Lish, ghosting on the others for various reasons, some for, what I felt, was their condescension or downplaying of the things I’d endured, others for their notion that what had been done to me had triggered something within me that was making me subconsciously long for that treatment in a setting on my terms, citing my returned nighttime accidents as a tether to a long dormant state of youth that I was trying to recapture because I’d lost my father at such a young age. Dr. Lish was the only one that reassured me that what was done to me was horrible and that the only real way to move past it was to break it down and understand it. A week later, and here I stand, looking at the innocuous items that were tools in my torment, seeing them for what they were, items of furniture and nothing more and understanding that they existed to care for babies and were twisted and perverted to be used against me for some kind of sick game. I ran my hand over the top rail of the crib and sighed, letting go of the fear as I touched the wood and felt nothing, no anxiety or fear, just wood and a reminder of all the babies I’d seen sleeping peacefully within, nothing or no one doing them harm, and I smiled. A new smell filled the building as I walked around looking at the various areas where I’d endured so much, the smell of gasoline as it poured from the can I’d brought with me, making a trail that would lead the fire through the past and burn it away so that nothing would exist of that awful experience save for my own memories, but those would fade in time. I sat on the hood of my car and watched the fire travel from the doorway and into the building, the smoke beginning to billow out the crack in the door and my smile came back again and I laughed to myself. Dr. Lish had given me the name of a support group that I’d avoided for a long while, but once I’d given in to my mother and Dr. Lish’ constant pestering, I found people that understood what I’d been through because they’d experienced similar things in their own lives. There was Allison who’d gotten in trouble for underage drinking and was sent by her parents to live with an aunt that, over the course of the Summer, had reduced her to a second infancy that she was still struggling to overcome several years later. Charlie was the youngest and had been punished for wetting his bed at camp by having to stay in a nursery rather than the normal bunks. Brittany had been blackmailed by one of her fellow cheerleaders into wearing diapers and degrading herself for the other girl’s pleasure, and Max had been punished for wetting himself on a family trip by having to wear his baby sister’s diapers. All of them had stories that sounded ridiculously unbelievable in our rational society, but Allison still had to wear training pants because she hadn’t fully regained her continence, Charlie was dealing with the realization that he was gay after the feelings of seeing another camper enduring the same treatment he was brought arousal to him. Brittany had lived with the abuse of her blackmailer for so long that she actually developed a kind of Stockholm Syndrome and now lived with her former classmate as her baby girl and lover, while Max was transitioning to become the girl his parents had awakened when they’d dressed him up to match his sister, a telltale crinkle beneath her dresses at every meeting told the story of her acceptance of the garment to this day. None of them were angry anymore, though Allison did still childishly swear when she realized she’d had an accident, falling back on her training to not use foul language all those years ago by muttering a simple “poopy” or “fiddlesticks” when she squirmed a little in her seat to assess the severity of the accident. They all accepted what had been done to them and had moved forward with their lives, some, like Brittany and Max, embracing what they’d lived through and accepting it as a part of who they were, while Charlie looked to the future where he would be able to admit to a boyfriend that diapers and babying were something he was into and know that it wasn’t the end of the world if they thought that was weird or disgusting, he’d keep looking until he found someone that accepted that part of him and loved him regardless of it. So, where does that leave me? Well, after the fire started to pick up steam but before the fire department arrived I got back into my car and headed to a small diner across town and ordered coffee and breakfast while I waited. Before I’d finished half of my first cup Allison was entering the diner and waving to me, making her way to the booth to sit across from me. “I was surprised you called.” she said as she looked at her menu. I nodded and took another sip of my coffee. “Me too.” I confessed. “It took me almost fifteen minutes to actually do it.” I added. She looked up from her menu and smiled. “I’m glad you did.” she said. “Not sure why you did, but glad nonetheless.” she added. “I did something today and kind of needed to talk to someone about it without feeling like they’d judge me.” I told her. She giggled. “Sounds juicy.” she said. I nodded and watched the waitress approach and take Allison’s order, leaning forward after she’d left, “I burned the daycare.” I whispered. Her eyes went wide, her mouth forming a little “o” of shock. “Really?!” she exclaimed, flushing hotly as she leaned down closer to me and the table. “What happened?” she asked in a newly adopted whisper. I told her the story, shared with her my process of coming to terms with everything as I walked the rooms of the daycare and reduced it to useless ash to purge it from my life once and for all. “How do you feel?” she asked after I’d finished, our food arriving a short time later. I sighed heavily. “Not as good as I thought I would, to be honest.” I confessed. She pouted as she speared a sausage with her fork. “I’m not surprised.” she said simply. “Destruction isn’t always the way to rebuild.” she began as she put the sausage into her mouth and politely chewed with her mouth closed, waiting until she’d swallowed to resume speaking. “Sometimes, it’s okay to keep the foundation and build onto it rather than try and tear everything down and build something new.” she explained. I rolled my eyes. “You sound like Dr. Lish.” I teased. She smirked and shrugged. “What can I say, she’s not wrong.” she said. “So, Dr. Allison, what would you suggest I do?” I asked her. She looked at me thoughtfully as she chewed her eggs, unaware of the bit of yolk juice that was on her chin and threatening to fall on her shirt until I grabbed a napkin and wiped it away for her. “Thank you.” she said after swallowing. “Before I suggest anything, I’d like to know why you thought burning down a building would change what happened to you.” she said. I shrugged. “Fire cleanses all?” I asked. “That’s fair, but if I burned down the Tower of London would it undo any of the history the building had?” she asked. I shook my head. “If I learned about the history of the building and accepted the bad with the good would I be able to objectively make a decision as to whether or not the building could hurt me?” she asked. I begrudgingly nodded. “So, if I suggested that maybe you’re feeling the need to destroy the past because you’re afraid of it, would I be wrong?” she asked, taking a sip of her orange juice. I sighed. “Not entirely.” I said. “But, I’m not afraid of it.” I added. She raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you afraid of?” she asked. The waitress came and refilled our drinks and took our plates and I sat waiting for her to leave, the words I wanted to say, that I needed to say hiding deep within me, afraid to be exposed to the harsh light of day. “Do you want me to guess?” she asked after I’d said nothing for a long while. I flushed but remained silent. She cleared her throat. “I think that you’re afraid that your bedwetting makes you the baby they treated you as.” she said simply. “That’s a part of your past that you struggled with, that filled you with shame and made you feel younger and more helpless than your actual age and you’re worried that admitting that will put you on a path of self fulfilling prophecy and you’ll end up becoming the baby they wanted you to be.” she explained. “How am I doing so far?” she asked. I swallowed hard. “Wrong.” I croaked out softly. She looked at me in genuine surprise. “Really?” she asked. I nodded and blinked away the water that was starting to well up in my vision, sending a tear or two rolling down my cheeks. She was up and beside me in a flash, hugging me. “Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.” she told me. I shook my head and wiped my eyes. “I want to, it’s just hard.” I said softly. She rubbed my back gently in a small circle. “Do you remember the first session you came to?” she asked. I nodded. “Remember that Brittany fudged her Pampers and I laughed so hard that I overflowed my training pants?” she asked. I laughed in between sniffles and sobs. “Yeah, you were so embarrassed that you tried to hide in the bathroom for the rest of the session.” I told her. She nodded. “And who came into the bathroom to check on me?” she asked. “Me.” I told her. She nodded again. “And who told me that it wasn’t a big deal because at least I hadn’t stunk the whole room up like Brittany?” she asked. I laughed again, the memory of Brittany being led by the hand by her Mommy out to the car for a change, her toddler like gait caused by her bowed out legs making her look ridiculous. “Me.” I finally said. She took my chin in her hand and turned my head gently to face her. “And who made me feel like it was okay that I’m twenty three and still can’t quite make it to the bathroom all the time?” she asked. I looked up into her eyes and smiled. “Me.” I whispered softly. “And who became my favorite person that day, became someone that I looked forward to seeing every week and thought for sure I’d die of happiness when she decided to take my number even though I felt guilty for weeks because I’d given it to her for the selfish reason of wanting to spend more time with her?” she asked. I blinked and felt the smile spread across my lips. “Me?” I asked. She nodded. “And who am I dampening my training panties over because I’m afraid that if I act on my impulse to kiss her that she’ll run away and never come back?” she asked. My thoughts raced as I took in every word of her statement, scarcely able to believe that she was wanting this moment to turn romantic just as I did, and I eagerly closed the distance between our lips and pressed mine to hers softly, fireworks going off in my brain as the tension and fear melted away and long forgotten happiness and calm returned to me. She pulled back gently and stroked my cheek tenderly. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” she confessed. I nodded softly. “Me too.” I told her. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.” she said. I shook my head. “It wasn’t you.” I told her. “I’ve been trying to say something but I can’t find the words.” I said. “Like me wanting to tell you how I feel about you?” she asked. I nodded. “Well, that turned out okay.” she said with a smile as she took my hand in hers and lifted it to her lips to kiss it softly. “Maybe if you say what you’re feeling or thinking it’ll be just as okay.” she offered. I sighed and nodded. “I know you’re right, but every time I think I can say it I chicken out.” I confessed. “Want me to guess again?” she asked. I shook my head. “Tell me to tell you.” I said. “Give me a reason to say what I need to say.” I added. “Like an ultimatum?” she asked. I nodded and looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Please?” I asked. She nodded. “If you don’t tell me what’s on your mind, I’m going to get up and walk out of here and you’ll never see me again.” she said after a moment of mental preparation. I swallowed hard and looked down at my hand in hers. “I-.” I began, the words catching in my throat. “I-.” I tried again, feeling the worry of her grip loosening on my hand filling me up and breaking my heart. “I-.” I tried again, watching her hand release mine as she pushed on the table to slide out of the booth. “Last chance.” she said as she looked down at me sorrowfully. The tears had returned and I watched the wobbly blob she’d become fade from my vision, heard her pick up her bag from the other side of the booth and wiped my eyes to see her walking away to the restroom, leaving me to pathetically sniffle and sob before I got up and hurried after her, catching up to her just as she entered the family changing room, my hand grabbing the handle and pulling it from her grasp as I rushed in behind her and yanked the door shut, locking it behind us. “Do you mind?” she asked. “I’d like some privacy, please.” she said. I shook my head and sobbed as I undid my pants and shoved them downward, sending them to rest around my ankles in a pool as I stood with my eyes closed crying the ugliest, most pathetic cry I’d ever cried. The room was silent for a long time, save for my crying, and then she spoke. “What are you wearing?” she asked finally. I kept my eyes tightly shut and struggled to stop crying long enough to answer. “A diaper.” I finally said. I heard her take a step forward. “Why?” she asked. “Because I want to-” I blubbered, stopping the statement from finishing. Another step forward. “Why?” she asked. “I want to-” I tried and failed. “I’m jealous of-” I tried and failed once more. Another step forward and then her hand was on the front of my diaper, pressing gently against the thin, store brand cloth. “Me?” she asked. I shook my head and bit my lip, gasping as I felt a small spurt of urine escape into the thin padding. “Open your eyes.” she commanded reassuringly. I shook my head again. “One.” she said, bringing me back to a long forgotten point in my life when my mother was at the limit of her patience with me as I refused to come out of the bathroom the first night she was going to put me in a diaper to keep me from wetting the bed. I whimpered as another spurt escaped me, this one more of a trickle than the first. “Two.” she said, the memory showing me standing in the bathroom crying, at the prospect of having to wear a diaper to bed while other girls my age were thinking about boys, the idea that I wasn’t as mature as them because of an unfortunate and common medical condition filling my mind as I heard the count continue through the door. The trickle became a small stream that caused me to sob at the knowledge that she must be feeling what I was doing, knowing what I was too much of a coward to admit. “Two and a half.” she said with more warning in her tone, the same one my mother had just before I opened the door and ran to her, throwing my arms around her as I broke into uncontrollable sobbing and pleading only to end up right where she’d wanted me, diapered for bed, my thumb finding its way into my mouth as she left the room and I cried myself to sleep. I threw my eyes open “I’m jealous of Brittany!” I cried just before the floodgates of my bladder opened completely and I drenched my cheap diaper to the point that rivulets of warm liquid cascaded down my thighs and onto my waiting pants. She was smiling at me, I realized. Nothing in her eyes or face was disgusted with me or judgmental of my behavior or statement, she was just smiling at me like she cared about me and was proud of me. “Why?” she asked. Everything poured out of me, the emotional constipation I’d been living with for years flooded out into the world as I told her that I’d gone back to wearing diapers at night for the bed wetting and had found myself fascinated by Brittany and her complete acceptance of her role as baby in her relationship and that the jealousy I felt stemmed from someone engaging in that role from a place of love and acceptance rather than coercion and force like what had been done to me, to all of us in the group. I poured my heart and soul out to her and stood there like a pathetic fool as she listened and smiled at me before she kissed me softly on the lips. “If you wanted to be a baby you should’ve just said so instead of ruining your big girl clothes.” she chided me playfully. I sniffled and looked down at my pants and whined remorsefully. “What am I going to do?!” I wailed. She took my hand in hers and led me, my movement restricted to a ridiculous parody of a toddler’s gait with my wet pants around my ankles, to the changing table across the room. “You’re going to let me take those soggy pants and pathetic excuse for a diaper off of you and wear the extra skirt I happen to always carry over one of my training pants so we don’t get arrested on the way out of here,” she explained as she knelt down and helped me out of my shoes and pants before helping me up onto my back on the table’s surface, “then, we’re going to the store to find some more adequate diapers until we can afford the really thick, babyish ones that Brittany has.” she continued as she wiped me clean and helped me stand back up and into one of the training pants followed by the previously mentioned skirt. I realized as she was tying my shoes for me that I was sucking my thumb and quickly pulled it out as she was standing back up. “You don’t have to stop on my account.” she said sweetly as she ran her fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead softly. I blushed and slowly reinserted my thumb, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’, or a reasonable facsimile given the finger sized plug between my lips. She smiled. “Two things before we go any further:” she said. “This is all up to you, you can go as far as you feel comfortable and I’ll meet you wherever you land with open arms.” she explained before picking up my wet clothes and depositing them into a plastic bag she sealed up and dropped into her backpack before slipping out of her own training pants and wiping herself before replacing them with a new pair. “What’s the second thing?” I asked softly. She smirked as she slung her backpack over her shoulder, threw her used training pants into the trash and washed her hands before taking my hand in hers and leaning in to kiss my cheek before whispering softly into my ear, “I think I might be in love with a baby.” she said. I giggled for the first time in longer than I can remember. I’d laughed, chuckled, heck, I’d even guffawed, but not since I was probably in training pants the first time around could I remember giggling. “I think I might be in love with one too.” I told her. She put her hands on her hips and put her best impression of a wounded expression on her face. “We’ll just see who the baby in this relationship is Miss “I wanna be a big baby like Bwittany and fudge my Pampers for Mommy awl da times!” she cooed in playfully exaggerated babytalk. I huffed and put my own hands on my hips, mirroring her faux wounded expression with one of my own. “First of all, I never said I wanted to “fudge my Pampers”,” I corrected, “and second of all, are you offering to be my Mommy?” I asked. She winked and kissed me softly once more on the lips. “That’s what I’m expecting you to moan later tonight when we’re back at my place.” she said seductively as she took my hand and led me to the bathroom door. I felt my face begin to heat up as she opened the door and I followed behind her as she led me into the next chapter of my life. The End
  8. Grey Day I gazed out of the bedroom window but from the angle I lay in bed all I could see was grey. Not clouds, although that’s what it was, but just a complete fusion of depressing grey. A sheet of grey filled the space that was my window... another boring grey day. Wide awake but not ready to get up I was warm snuggled under the duvet cover, yet when I moved my feet, I could tell they were cold. I often woke up with cold feet but they seemed at odds with the rest of my snuggly warm body. I turned from the window and decided to try and drop back off. I felt cosy, except for my feet, and hugged the duvet tighter. I closed my eyes and hoped that this action alone would bring the desired slumber... alas no. Shuffling around trying to get the most comfortable position wasn’t helping and the duvet had come out at the foot of the bed... thus explaining my cold feet. I curled into the foetus position and rested for a few seconds but it wasn’t as comfortable as I’d been led to believe such a position offered - after all, don’t the unborn rest in such a fluid embrace? Still with my eyes closed, I shuffled around to gain a better situation but all evaded such a search. When I opened my eyes again I was facing the window and that same cold, grey scene hadn’t changed. I sighed... grey was definitely my colour. I suppose this was a slight improvement because only a few months earlier everything had been black and pointless. I wondered what the time was. Usually, if the weather was harsh, the heating came on at seven. With my cold right foot I furtively reached out to the nearby radiator and felt it was just warming up so it was just after seven. However, although I was now wide awake I didn’t want to get up. I thought about turning on the TV, I could read for a bit, I could... actually I could get up and have some breakfast. That was quite appealing because, if I dropped off, then no doubt I’d sleep heavily and wake up too late to eat before I had to rush showering, dressing and getting ready for school in general. I hated these grey mornings. They didn’t inspire anything except to do nothing. However, taking the bull by the horns (or simply because there was nothing better to do) I rolled out of bed and looked out the window. The threat of further rain hung in the air and judging by the large pools that had gathered in various parts of the garden, showers had been persistent throughout the night. I hadn’t heard a thing. On the desk were last night’s homework and the half-drunk can of Coke. I finished that in two gulps. Yuk, I hate room temperature Coke. The full-length mirror showed I was just as grey as the morning, my baggy grey sleep shorts and even baggier t-shirt made me look like a bedraggled bin-bag. My inflated groin also indicated that my night time protection had served its purpose and it would probably be beneficial to get to the bathroom sooner than later to avoid the morning family rush. I was first so happily locked the bathroom door to deter any voices from my family begging to come in ‘for just a minute’. With my shorts and t-shirt removed I stood for a moment taking in the view of my plastic pants and soaked nappy. This was a sight that had been greeting me for the past six or so months and although I was used to it... it still made me shrug at the state I was in. The shiny white plastic was tight and smooth where the nappy underneath had expanded, so it looked like I no longer had any male attributes, just a sleek, glossy pouch front and back. # When I’d started wetting the bed mum was quick to advise this simple precaution and though an unhappy fourteen year-old (I’m fifteen now) protested, eventually I did see the obvious benefit. Now six months on, I dread to think what state my bed, bedding and my mental capacity would be like had I not taken notice of her guidance. My elder sister thought it was cute that I wear a nappy to bed. For some reason she thinks that seeing a lad my age wearing a nappy is a ‘joy to behold’ (her words) and even suggested to mum that she puts my two younger brothers back into nightly protection... for no other reason than she thinks it looks so sweet. She isn’t awful or sneering about it, she just thinks it suits me (shrug). Perhaps she is sneering at me? My two younger brothers bridled at the jokey suggestion from our sister and think it shameful, and reflects badly on them, that they have an older brother who still wets himself, albeit, in the privacy of his slumber. Because of the ‘shame’ they hadn’t told anyone and shun me as much as they dare in front of mum and dad, who on the whole are as supportive as they can be. They’ve told my brothers and sister that no one was to discuss, joke or say anything about my ‘predicament’ on pain of some, as yet unspecified, punishment. It is hard to see what punishment they could inflict on Carol my sister, she’s eighteen and not about to take crap from anyone least of all from anyone who couldn’t take a joke. However, as I say, she was OK with it. My two younger brothers, eight year-old Simon and ten year-old Keith had both been grounded for saying something they shouldn’t and both resented me as a result. In the end I asked mum and dad not to be hard on them as “... I could take a joke.” Anyway, as I peeled down the plastic and stepped out of the soft warm vinyl the back of the nappy sagged, which I don’t know if you know, but is a strange sensation. That moment when something held tight up against your body suddenly lets in some fresh air... it’s quite a ’shock’. Although I’m quite used to it now that little bit of movement has a strange effect on me. I always seem to let out a little ‘groan’ and a shiver runs through my body. It’s like a little sexual thrill. Well, perhaps not sexual... but that ‘groan’ is not one of displeasure that’s for certain. I don’t hang around too long because I know the bathroom is prime territory that time of a morning. So, I cast off the wet material and throw it in the ‘smelly bin’, as Keith has christened it, and quickly get myself under the shower. Almost as soon as I turn on the taps there’s a knock on the door and an urgent juvenile demand, which I identified as Simon, telling me to ‘hurry up’. I know I’ve only got a couple of minutes before the knocks and shouts get more insistent (I’ve done it myself if I’m late) but I concentrate the soap and water mainly around my hairless crotch. This was something mum advised very early on. She told me that my pubic hair would retain the smell of urine and would be a breeding ground for germs and such like. The idea of permanently smelling of piss actually scared me into shaving the area and I have kept it smooth and clear ever since. It certainly makes putting the various creams and powder on easier and avoids clumps. Anyway, I was under a time scale so before anyone got a chance to complain I finished, wrapped a towel around my waist and returned to my grey bedroom. I heard Carol sneak in ahead of Simon much to his angry annoyance. # I don’t have any wetting problems during the day, it’s only when I’m unconscious that the problem presents itself. So, I can dress for school pretty much as normal, although mum did buy some teenage pull-ups ‘just in case’ which I have worn a couple of times but that’s because I fancied doing so. That’s the other thing. Now I have to wear a nappy at night I’m not filled with resentment because the powers that be (doctors and the internet) have said it will stop when it stops. For some that won’t be much of an answer but for me that about sums up my attitude to life... what happens - happens. However, I didn’t get to this point easily though mum and dad are pretty persuasive in their logical argument and made me see the futility of getting in a state over a simple and useful piece of material. I remember on that first occasion after I’d left the bed that morning in a very soaked state the anger and embarrassment when mum put me into the protection for the very first time. She was all calm and explained every aspect of what she was doing and why. Of course, I was fourteen at the time, hated the process and fought desperately to try and block out what was happening. However, mum insisted that I took notice, as she declared that if my problem lasted any length of time, I’d have to do all this myself, and I needed to know the positives and pitfalls of the situation. I didn’t know there was so much in the preparation and execution of simply putting on a nappy. Although she made it look easy, when I tried the result was pretty disastrous. # Perhaps I should tell you a little more about my situation. Six months ago on my way home from school I witnessed my best friend Jamie being knocked down and killed by a maniac driving dangerously. He just wasn’t stopping for anyone or anything and drove past the school at speed. Frightened kids were leaping out of the way but Jamie was on the crossing when he was hit. I was two feet away from him but the driver missed me though the impact on my best friend was fatal. He was dragged along under the car for several yards before it only stopped as it hit a tree. My friend was dead at the scene – my body’s reaction to the event? My pants involuntarily filled by witnessing such horrifying carnage. Counselling hasn’t helped at all. I still dream about that incident and have done repeatedly for the past six months. Once every two weeks I see a school psychiatrist, as do a couple of other key witnesses, but so far the dreams and horror are still there and I just can’t seem to block it out, especially when I’m asleep. Unfortunately, as I sleep, I’m so traumatised by the memory of that event... that same scared bodily reaction repeats in my nappy time after time. Dragging myself awake at these moment has proved impossible. You’d think that my mind would insist that I get away from the horror but no - like that guy from Greek myth that is destined to push a boulder continually up a hill only for it to roll down again... that’s me... no escape. I assume that’s why my parents and sister are pretty understanding. Although they hoped I’d be over the worst by now, they know there’s a reason behind these nocturnal incidents. However, the younger members of the family just find the constant aroma of pee emanating from my bedroom, and of course me being older, too much to understand. They hate to see my nappies out on the washing line as they’re sure people will think they’re for them and they object even when my plastic pants are drying in the bathroom. No doubt at their age I was a little twat as well. The other thing is... it’s not always that dream that sees me wetting the bed... there are other, none related things, which really confuses me. Sometimes I haven’t dreamt at all... or at least have no recollection but still my nappy is soaked. “You’ve been traumatised,” my parents say compassionately. “It will take time to adjust but don’t worry... you will and you’ll be able to put this entire thing behind you.” I’m not sure it will. Part of me thinks that I’m wetting the bed as punishment for my friend being killed and I escaped unharmed. What is it they call it - Karma or something similar? Whatever it is I feel guilty for being alive and a wet nappy is my due. # After the accident (though it was no accident) I could hardly speak to anyone. I shook and cried constantly and tried to keep the world away by locking myself in my bedroom. Jamie’s cruel and dramatic death was all around me and I couldn’t cope. I didn’t understand how I was ‘saved’ and every time I closed my eyes I heard that awful thud, the shrieks of those who witnessed it and in my mind saw a repeat of the event. Each time, as I looked along the trail of blood and flesh, I was left wondering - why him and not me? This was where the psychiatrist came in. The school and, well, just about everybody, said I needed to see one. I didn’t want to but the pressure won out. We talked and talked. He wrote stuff down and listened and if another twat ever says “...and how did that make you feel?” I swear I’ll kill the bastard. I was angry (and to a certain extent still am) at the world. Though it’s difficult being angry at your own family who are trying to do their best, but, you know that grey cloud I mentioned earlier? Well that surrounds me all the time and even when I try to be upbeat, positive (and all the other stuff the psychiatrist has asked me to be) I feel that cloud raining down. I suppose (and I’m thinking aloud here), that grey cloud is just an extension of my wet nappy. # When the bedwetting started I was horrified, a lad my age having such a childish problem, but my parents had been quick to act. They knew, or whatever sixth-sense parents have, that it was because of the trauma of the event. Mum efficiently gathered together nappies, plastic pants and creams and stuff so despite my initial denial and tantrum, I eventually saw the reasoning. I think that was down to dad’s firm words more than my own rationalising. They weren’t taking “No” for an answer. However, since I’ve gotten used to wearing thick protection at night, and yes I realise I need it, I’ve become less worried because of the security that the thick fluffy material has to offer. The sleek plastic pants keep everything in place and less floppy... so wearing a nappy isn’t now a problem. If anything, it’s made me calmer, a lot less annoying, angry or argumentative at home and school... though I rarely wear a nappy to school. The reason for this is... a few days ago I had a type of ‘revelation’. I got it into my head that this is Jamie’s way of trying to spare me blame. I mean I still carry ‘survivor’s guilt’ (as the psychiatrist called it) but my friend said (in my head at least) “Look, I know you feel terrible about what’s happened, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you feel responsible in some way. So, I know you need to feel bad about something so, from now on, you’re going to wet the bed... and that can be your penance.” I know this inner style analysis is stupid but it made me feel better and, I guess, and this is the main thing, I could actually imagine my best mate coming up with such a crappy and humiliating penalty. Jamie and I were close and despite being the best of friends constantly played jokes on each other... it was our way. Having the other embarrassed was no reason not to be the best of friends. However, as I said earlier, when I release those morning plastic pants and my soaked nappy droops... for a split second a strange shiver runs through my body. That’s him saying, “...well there’s no reason not to get ‘something’ out of it.” Although sometimes that grey cloud hangs menacingly above my head now I don’t feel it will overwhelm me; those dark, self-harming, thoughts that nearly took control have, if not banished, at least allowed a stray ray of understanding to break through. There had been times at the beginning when I wondered what the point of it all was. The randomness of life (and death) had scared me, the bedwetting just added to my shameful lack of control of even my body. Early on I’d even written a ‘farewell’ note to the family... it’s still in my exercise book... but... Despite all that anger mum and dad had taken matters on board and sorted one problem out by simply making me wear a piece of material at night. A simple and effective containment, I still wet but it affected no one else... they’d given me back some control. Now I’ve determined that Jamie loves a wind-up I can appreciate it on a different level. Jamie was a cheeky friend and I miss him; his humour, daftness and love of a prank lingers in the fact I have to wear a nappy. So now, for the moment, whether I want to or not... I’m pissing my nappy in memory... not on the memory of my best mate... nutty eh? #### .... ####
  9. Hello everyone, familiar and unfamiliar alike. I know it's rare for me to really participate in this community anymore, or write any stories or make any posts. Some of you know I've been dealing with a lot of bad luck lately. My aunt passed away 2 months ago, my car engine died (and thankfully was fixed under warranty), had a girl I was dating essentially tell me the last 3 weeks of us going out was nothing because she didn't really want a relationship anyway. Sounds like average complaints you'd hear from someone, right? And you know what? None of these things compare to what happened this past Monday morning. Bad luck, or fate, or whatever you want to call it, has had a funny way of finding me lately, and this week was no exception. I'm not going to get into the full details in a forum out of respect for the individual (whom I did not know), but I was witness to part of a suicide at the parking garage where I work. Needless to say, it was the scariest and most horrifying thing I've ever seen in my life, and I'm pretty messed up from it. I saw part of what the individual had done and was also the first to find her and respond. I ran into my office and had my coworkers call 911.. I found out a short time later that she ended up not making it, despite our efforts and despite her being alive when the paramedics got to her. I was shaking, I was breathing heavy, and I almost passed out. Dealing with anxiety already, this experience has increased it 100-fold. I'm hardly sleeping, and the images and sounds of what I experienced are constantly replaying in my head. I'm getting help currently, more so than usual, but it is taking its toll. I'm told by the crisis counselors that I may develop some form of PTSD, and that with my current struggle with anxiety that this may exacerbate it further.
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