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Hello Babs and Bigs (and all others!) I've been pulled out of the woodwork by The 3rd Kasarberang Story Contest! The NON-CONtest #3 ! Seriously, a thousand thanks to Kasarberang for these, otherwise I would probably never get the gumption to write. Now, I know the contest has very specific themes, and I've selected a couple of them, but they're secret for now, 'kay? I'll add them as tags later, but you don't want to spoil your appetite! So, here I am with a new tale, perhaps a bit based on a somewhat recent horror film, but it's already rapidly evolved into its own thing. With no further ado, here's the first course of "The Kids Menu" First Course - Amuse-Bouche “That’s not even the best part,” Tyler continued, passionately oversharing about his most recent obsession. Sarah smiled widely, her long light auburn hair whipping in the sea breeze, but her attention never broke from Tyler. She reveled in every little excited motion he made as he fixated on every fine detail of his story. She gave every outward appearance of profound interest, laughing, gasping, and even giving him light touches at the right moments, but the truth was it was at best a mild distraction from what had occupied her mind for months leading up to their date. But Tyler was none the wiser, carrying on what was one of the best conversations he had in years, with someone who but days before was a total stranger. It had to mean something, a deep connection, a kindred soul, maybe even love at first… The boat’s horn blew, ending both of their reveries, and turning their attention forward. The nearby conversations ceased just as abruptly, as the dozen passengers took in their destination. The private island that would serve as their paradise for the weekend was almost supernaturally beautiful. The crystal clear emerald waters lapped on the soft sand beach, from which a short wooden dock awaited their vessel. The sun dipped just behind the lush tree line, providing shade for the dock while keeping the sand warm. As the boat began to dock, Tyler could barely make out the path through to their villas and the main hall which would serve as their communal eating area for the duration of their stay. While he sat there taking in the sights, Sarah stood up and leaned over the boat’s railing, watching as a school of brightly colored fish darted past. “Ty, come look!” she shouted, pulling his attention towards her. His head whipped towards her, his shaggy sandy blonde hair falling in his eyes. As his hand wiped his vision clear, he froze and went red in the face. The short pale blue sundress that had framed Sarah’s assets quite nicely until now, had ridden up far enough that even the gentle breeze threatened to flash him. “Sarah! Y-y-y-,” he stammered, hiding his eyes, and gesturing furiously for her to come down. Sarah giggled inwardly, but feigned shock, yanking her dress down and shuffling over to Tyler. “My hero,” she whispered, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. His blush only intensified, but was accompanied with a genuine smile. She milked the moment by resting her head on his shoulder, a safe spot for a quick gaze to confirm a certain stiffening in his pants. Had she been a better person, she might have felt bad for how easily she was playing him, but things being what they were, she was loving every second of this. And, so far, so was he. Tyler would have been content staying in that moment for the whole weekend, but as the other passengers emptied out, he caught the skipper’s eyes and realized it was past time they get moving. He opened his mouth to speak such to his date, but as brief scenarios of saying the wrong thing flashed in his mind, he choked back the words. Again he opened his mouth, and shut it just as fast. He repeated this cycle for nearly a minute before Sarah decided he had suffered enough and lifted her head, miming a stretch. “Ty, babe, we shouldn’t keep them waiting,” she instructed him after taking an exaggerated look around, “it’s rude.” While he processed the change in tone, she stood up first and offered him a hand up. Not thinking any better of it, he meekly took it and stood to realize the rising problem in his pants. As he tried to pull his hand down to try and reposition or cover himself, she pulled his hand harder, and before he knew it they were both on the dock, in full view of everyone else. Without taking time to properly orient himself, he spun away from the group in front of him, and ran into a towering woman. Stumbling, he found himself caught by her firm, yet gentle hand. Her scent clung to him, sweet and strange, foreign and fruity. “Aren’t you an eager one?” she asked rhetorically, talking about him, but addressing the crowd more than she was him. She bent down slightly, both giving him ample view of her more than ample chest, and bringing her eyes nearly in line with him. “Just be careful where you point that thing, okay dear?” Having lost almost all higher brain function, Tyler nodded sheepishly. After feeling a firm prodding in his back from Sarah, he added “Y-yes ma’am.” “Miss Margot,” the woman before him corrected immediately. Tyler’s mouth hung open, his head listing to the side slightly. “It’s ‘Yes, Miss Margot’,” she said, pinching his jaw between two fingers. “Y-e-s,” he formed the sounds as she moved his mouth, “M-i-s-s M-a-r-g-o-t.” “Excellent,” she said dropping his jaw and pulling herself back up to full height and addressing everyone but him once again. “During your stay on my island, you are my guests, and welcome to all of its amenities. However, as your host, I do insist on at least some… decorum. The very least of which, is to refer to me as Miss Margot,” she turned her attention back to Tyler, “understood?” “Yes Miss Margot,” everyone echoed back with varying levels of enthusiasm. Some shouted it joyfully. Others recited it calmly. Tyler for his part barely broke a mumble. The introduction seemingly now complete, Sarah slipped her hand in his, and led the two off the dock along with the other guests. As they walked, she snuck a look back at Miss Margot and mouthed ‘thank you’, getting a gentle smile in return. The two continued to walk hand in hand across the beach, then down a shaded path to the heart of the island. Far ahead, a guide-woman explained the layout and features of the resort, but none of it registered with Tyler, and Sarah didn’t seem to pay it much interest. When they did arrive at the site of the main hall, Sarah split off from the group, still leading Tyler by the hand. The walk had done his head some good, but he hadn’t been able to reemerge from the shell his frightened psyche had retreated into. For now, his only link to the world around him was Sarah’s soft fingers, wrapped around his. It was more than enough. They quickly arrived at a beautiful villa. Thatched siding and roofing hid the modern materials employed in its construction, a solitary skylight breaking the illusion. The whole thing stood more than his head’s height off the ground on thick wooden pillars. As she led him up the rustic stairs to the doorway, he noticed the villa wasn’t as freestanding as it looked at a glance. A hallway ran, camouflaged, to the main hall, joining with one other along the way. He incorrectly assumed this was a matter of convenience, a way for them to reach the central hub of activity for the resort without leaving the comfort of the indoors. It did but that was only a secondary benefit. The door handle chimed as Sarah touched it, stealing Tyler’s attention from the hallway, and a moment later the cool air conditioning spilled out of the open door. “Magic touch,” she commented, waving at him with the fingers of her spare hand, then pulling him the rest of the way inside. The door swung shut quietly until it was closed, when a heavy lock clicked automatically into place. Sarah flopped onto the spacious bed in the center of the room, pulling Tyler down beside her. The two lay in silence for a long minute, still holding hands. “I’m glad, uhm,” Tyler lost his words as quickly as he found them, happy to return to the restful silence. “Me too,” Sarah replied, turning towards him, propping herself up on an elbow. “Not every day you get whisked away for a weekend in paradise by a beautiful woman you met just days before on a silly dating app, is it?” Tyler laughed, feeling the weight lift off his chest, lighting off more than just the day’s worries, but feeling free from what had become almost a lifetime of regrets. Regrets that washed back in like a wave of the sea, weighing him down once more. Noticing him tense back up, Sarah kissed his cheek. “I’ve got just the thing,” she said, getting up and strolling to the mini-bar. “There’s a fruit that grows here. Like, only here,” She explained while mixing various juices. “It’s called Heartfruit,” she paused, lifting up a plump, pink fruit that, true to its name, looked like a cartoon heart, “and it’s really quite fascinating, both medicinally and culinarily.” She tossed the fruit to him and one bumbling catch later, he examined the softball sized fruit. The skin wasn’t just thick, but hard and smooth, almost like a candy coating. “The skin, meat, juice, and seeds each have their own unique properties,” she continued, vigorously mixing the drink, “including some pretty fascinating neurological benefits.” Tyler sat up a bit at that word, ‘neurological’. Despite his years of undiagnosed depression, he recoiled at the idea of anything that might unknowingly alter his brain. It may not work right, but at least it was a misery he understood. So he barely drank more than a single beer in any given month, and would have been too afraid to get high, had anyone ever offered him the chance. He set the Heartfruit down on the bedside table, and dug for any excuse not to partake. Sarah finished mixing the drink and turned around to see the rising panic in Tyler’s eyes. She set the drink down and knelt in front of him at the foot of the bed. “Ty?” she asked, slowly raising a hand to pull his face towards hers. Tyler began to sniffle and cry. He was about to blow it again, lose everything all because he couldn’t stop being such a fool. When he felt her hand press against his cheek, he sniffled hard, and looked at her. He paused, then sniffed again. His tears cut off rather suddenly as his brain tried to piece together the strange smell. It had a sweetness to it, like a… foreign fruit. “That’s a good boy,” Sarah said, lifting the glass to his lips, and helping him drink down the Heartfruit cocktail. Tyler didn’t, couldn’t resist.

I'm writing this for the 3rd kasarberang non-contest. Chapter 1 I finished the block of code I was working on and started the unit tests. As the project built, I turned to the Web browser on my second monitor and started scrolling through the videos, trying to find one I hadn't already watched. I finally found one. The title was promising. "Slut takes 3 dicks." The thumbnail showed a wide-eyed woman with her lips wrapped around the shaft of an impressively thick cock. The balls resting on her chin. I glanced back at my work. There were a few green ticks indicating that the first tests had completed successfully but there were many more remaining. I had plenty of time so I started the video so I unzipped my pants. Enjoying porn on company time was just one of the many benefits of working from home. I was just getting into a rhythm when my phone began ringing. Without pausing, I looked down at it on the desk. The caller was identified as Melanie Baker. She was the wife of Brad, a friend of mine. I was actually rather envious of Brad, Melanie was hot. I ignored the ringing and kept going. I was already imagining Melanie in place of the star of the video and myself in the place of each of the men penetrating her. My climax came long before that of the video and I fell back into my chair panting, my cock still hanging out. My phone started ringing once more. It was Melanie again. This time I answered it. “Hi Melanie.” “Robert.” She said urgently. “I need your help.” “Huh?” I couldn’t imagine what problem she could have that would need my help specifically. Surely she had her own friends to call. “Brad was working on a story. He was obsessed with it. Something about a bunch of disappearances being connected.” Brad was a freelance journalist. “He told me he was getting close but then he didn’t come home. I’m really worried.” “So what can I do?” I asked. “All of Brad’s research is in his computer. There must be some clue where he was going there.” She explained. “But I don’t know his password. You know about computers. I thought maybe you could figure out how to get in.” “Yeah probably.” I agreed, seeing the potential to spend time alone with Melanie and with her in such an emotionally vulnerable state. “I’ll be right over.” When I arrived at Brad and Melanie’s apartment, Melanie answered the door with tears in her eyes and greeted me with a tight hug. “Oh Robert. Thankyou for coming.” “It’s no problem, really.” I hoped she wouldn’t notice my growing arousal. “Where’s Brad’s computer?” “In his office.” She released me and led me to a small room with a laptop sitting on a desk, surrounded by piles of paper. I moved the mouse and the black monitor came to life, showing the login screen. After clicking around a bit and finding no obvious way around it, I pulled out a USB stick from my pocket and plugged it in before restarting the machine. The computer booted into my pre-prepared Linux environment. This gave me access to the laptop’s harddrive. “Okay.” I declared. “Here’s his documents folder. And luckily he hasn’t encrypted anything.” “Can you find the research he was working on?” Melanie moved closer, placing a hand on my back. “Yeah. I think so.” I found and opened the most likely file. “I think this is it.” It contained chunks of an unfinished article interspersed with notes, documenting interviews and contact details. Brad had apparently found connections and patterns in the disappearances of a number of people, all but twol were women. Tthe men were each married to one of the women and disappeared at the same time as her. Most of the women were scientists, engineers and doctors, many with impressive achievements in their fields. He had concluded that they had not been murdered or abducted. They had chosen to leave. Brad had been particularly interested in Rachel Harbourne, one of the women who had disappeared. She wasn’t an engineer or a scientist. She was the ex-wife of the founder of some tech company and had left the marriage with over a billion dollars of his money. Brad had dug into her investments and had found a remote property that she owned indirectly through a convoluted network of shell companies. He was convinced that he would find the missing women there. “That has to be where he was going.” Melanie exclaimed. “It’s only about an hour away from here too. You’re my hero Robert.” She kissed me on the cheek. “What do we do now?” I wondered. “We go there.” She seemed uncertain. "Right now." “It would be too dark when we got there. We'll go first thing tomorrow." I said then saw an opportunity and added “I’ll stay here tonight so you don’t have to be alone.” "No.” She must have heard the enthusiasm in my voice because all doubt was gone. “We need to go tonight. Brad might be in trouble.” So I soon found myself driving down a deserted, unlit road with Melanie in the passenger seat. There was no address, only coordinates to put into the GPS, that gave us a marker which was at least a kilometre from any road on the map. As we got closer it wasn’t clear how we could actually get to the property. “Was that a road?” Melanie suddenly asked. “Back there on the left.” I checked the screen in the dashboard. “There’s nothing on the map.” “We have to go back and check.” She insisted. “That might be it.” I slowed down and did a U-turn. She was right, it was a road, well more a dirt track. We followed it and soon had confirmation that we were in the right place. “That’s Brad’s car.” Melanie pointed excitedly. I pulled up behind it and Melanie was out before I’d even come to a complete stop. “It’s locked.” She informed me when I joined her. “He must have decided it was better to go on foot from here.” I suggested, then noticed something through the trees. “Look. There’s some lights over there.” “Let’s go.” She took off in that direction. I chased her and saw that the light was coming from the window of a large building. As we got closer, I could see it was just one of many buildings but the only one with light in the windows. “What the fuck?” Melanie said as she reached the window. I joined her looking into the building. There was Brad, totally naked, on all fours on a table. A blonde woman was standing, fully clothed, beside him with a hand around his cock. There were two other naked men, in similar positions. Women stood around the room in small groups watching. "He's joined a bloody sex cult." I tried not to sound too happy. If anything was going to get me into Melanie's panties this was it. Maybe she'd come to me for comfort or maybe for revenge. It didn't matter if it got her into bed. The blonde woman moved her hand up and down Brad’s member. Initially, he just held his position, looking down at the table beneath him but soon he started moving back and forth with the rhythm. I absent-mindedly rubbed my growing erection through my pants as I watched. "Enjoying the show?" I heard a woman's voice behind me. Melanie and I both turned away from the window to see two women, armed with strange looking guns. After taking a moment to consider my options, I ran for it. I didn't get far before feeling a sharp pain in my right butt cheek. My legs started to feel weak as I felt for the source of the pain. I found a small dart and pulled it out as everything went black. I woke up surrounded by wooden bars. I could feel that I was naked except for some weirdly thick underwear. I ran my hands over this strange garment. It was covered in soft plastic and fastened at the front with tapes. With some effort, I sat up to examine it, confirming my fear. I was wearing a diaper. a ridiculously huge puffy disposable diaper, decorated with cartoon teddy bears in various pastel colours. I tried to take it off but the lingering effects of the tranquiliser left me too weak and uncoordinated. A door opened and a light turned on. "Looks like someone is finished with his nap." A woman's face, with olive skin and framed by long black hair, appeared, looking down over the bars. I suddenly realised what the bars were. I was in a giant cot. "Who are you?" I demanded. "And why am I wearing a diaper?" "You can call me Dr. Patel." She answered. "And the diaper is so you don't make a mess on the floor." "Where am I?" I continued my questions. "What have you done with Melanie?" "Patience. Everything will be explained in good time." She lowered one side of the cot. "But right now you only have to worry about finishing your bottle." "Bottle?" I asked, confused as she took my hand and led me to a long sofa. I tried to pull away but found I wasn't strong enough. She sat me in the middle of the sofa then picked up a large baby bottle full of a white liquid and sat at one end. "Just lay down and Dr. Patel will feed you." I made a feeble attempt to resist as she guided me to lay down across the sofa with my head in her lap. She smiled down at me as she brought the large nipple of the bottle to my lips. Even though I tried to clamp my mouth shut, she easily forced it in. The nipple filled my mouth. I tried to push it back out with my tongue but that only caused the liquid inside to squirt I to my mouth. In that position, I had no choice but to swallow it. "See." Dr. Patel said. "It doesn't taste so bad." She was right but it wasn't the taste I objected to. It was laying there in a diaper being fed like an infant. I wanted to ask why she was doing this to me but trying to talk only caused my mouth to fill with more of the liquid. "Good boy." She cooed. "Drink it all up." Whatever her reasons, it was clear she wasn't going to take that nipple out of my mouth until I had drunk the whole bottle so, resigned to this, I got to work. I had finished about half of it when my stomach started feeling uncomfortable. I kept going but a little while later it started cramping. "Is your tummy feeling yucky?" Dr. Patel must have noticed my discomfort. "Don't worry. It's just the laxatives starting to work. The muscle relaxants should kick in soon and then you'll feel much better." Now realising the purpose of the diaper, I started struggling against her again. She easily held me in place and kept the nipple in my mouth. I only succeeded in filling my mouth with more of the laxatives, muscle relaxants and who knows what else. "All done." She finally declared, pulling the bottle out of my mouth. "It won't be long now." She released me and I stood up. As promised, the muscle relaxants had muted the cramps but I could still feel what was coming. I had to find a toilet fast. On unsteady legs, I made my way to the door but I found that the doorknob was too much of a challenge for my hands. I knew that what was coming was inevitable but I still tried to fight it. I ordered my butthole to squeeze tightly shut and, for a while, it obeyed. With all of my attention on not shifting myself, my bladder took the opportunity to release, flooding the diaper. I felt the pee pool between my legs before being absorbed by the paddling. Dr. Patel didn’t move from her spot on the sofa. She just sat there, watching me with a patient smile. "Just let it happen." She suggested. "Don't worry. I won't leave you in a messy diaper. I'll get you cleaned up as soon as you're done. Her encouragement was unnecessary. At that moment, I finally lost the battle and the mess filled the seat of my diaper. It kept coming, squeezing up the back and the front. When it was finished, the diaper seemed ready to burst but, despite sagging heavily, it held on. "That's some laxative isn't it?" Dr. Patel laughed as she finally stood up. "It cleans you out completely, much more thoroughly than an enema." Too ashamed to offer any response, I meekly allowed her to lead me into the next room. With each step, I felt the mess against my skin. This room was far more clinical than the first. In the centre was what looked like a gynaecologist's examination chair. At least that's what they looked like in the fetish videos I'd watched. Dr. Patel led me straight to the chair. "Sit here and I'll get you cleaned up." I desperately wanted to be out of that diaper so I did as I was told. I didn't protest as she guided my feet onto the stirrups and strapped them in place or when she fastened a belt across my stomach. A large mirror took up most of the wall I was facing. As I looked at myself in that bulging diaper I had a terrible feeling it was actually a one-way viewing window. She pressed a button and the back of the chair lowered, pulling me back into a lying position, as the stirrups lifted my legs above me and spread them apart. “Okay. Now for the yucky bit.” She undid the tapes open and let my diaper fall open. She pulled a face but got to work, cleaning me with baby wipes. Working methodically, Dr. Patel started just under my stomach and then moved down to the base of my cock. I couldn’t help growing a little hard as she began to wipe the shaft. “Enjoying the attention?” She giggled and moved on to my balls, which did nothing to reduce my arrousal. Continuing to work her way down, she cleaned the mess off my bottom then wiped through my crack. She lingered on my butthole, pressing gently until it yielded to her fingers. I let out an involuntary moan of pleasure and my cock grew even harder. “I see you like that.” She smiled, removing her fingers from my arse and wiping the rest of my crack. “You’re going to love the procedure then.” “What procedure?” I did not like the sound of that. “What are you going to do to me?” “You’ll find out in just a moment.” She wiped my lower back and after inspecting her work declared. “There. All clean.” Leaving me strapped in place, She threw the used diaper and wipes into a nearby bin and moved to a sink to wash her hands. She took her time, either being very thorough or just deliberately making me wait, helpless with my bare bottom presented to that mirror. . Finally, Dr.Patel opened a cabinet, from which she removed a metallic cylinder. She carried it over to me and smiled at me from between my raised legs. “This is why we had to make sure your bottom was cleaned out.” She held up the cylinder, confirming my fears. “And the muscle relaxants will help it go in without hurting you.” I heard a clink as she put the device aside, then felt her fingers penetrating my butthole again but this time they were cold and slimy. “Just some lubrication to help it go in.” She explained, spreading the gel. I started to grow hard again in spite of my fear of what was coming next. Dr. Patel withdrew her fingers. A moment later I felt the smooth rounded end of the metal device replace them. “Just relax.” She said gently as she pushed it inside me. I gasped as I felt it slide deeper inside me. Precum started dribbling from the end of my rock-hard cock. “I knew you’d enjoy it.” She slid the device out a little. Then back in, slightly deeper than before. “Now I just have to find the right spot.” She moved it in and out a couple more times then said. “There.” I yelped as I felt a brief stinging pain inside me. I lasted less than a second but it seemed it was enough to make my erection disappear as Dr. Patel pulled the device out of my bottom. “What did you do to me?” I asked. “I’ve just installed your prostate chip.” She put the device down and returned to the sink to wash her hands again. When she returned, she stood at my side. “Now let’s test it.” She gently stroked my, now limp, cock. It felt good but I didn’t start to get hard again. “Good.” She began tapping on a bracelet on her left wrist and my cock became fully erect. “Excellent.” She tapped a couple more times and suddenly I began to squirt cum onto my stomach and chest. Weirdly, I didn’t feel any pleasure from this orgasm. “What did you do to my cock?” I demanded. “The chip is connected to the nerves in your bottom and groin.” She took out more baby wipes and cleaned the cum off of me. “Among other things, it lets us control your erections and ejaculations. Men have proven they can’t be trusted to control their penises so the chip gives that control to someone more responsible.” “What sort of feminist bullshit is this?” I demanded. “You bitches need a good…” I stopped and screamed as I suddenly felt a pain just like getting kicked in the balls. “That’s one of the other things it does.” She tapped her bracelet and the pain was instantly gone. “Behave yourself and you won’t have to feel that too often.” She took out a tissue and wiped up the tears running down the sides of my face. “You’re going to be a good boy for me aren’t you?” I wanted to tell her to go fuck herself but I didn’t ever want to feel that pain again. I remained silent and turned my head away from her. I heard her moving around then heard a plastic crinkling sound and turned to find her back between my legs, unfolding another big diaper. I was too afraid to say anything so I just laid there pouting silently as she slid it under my bottom. Once she had me taped into my new diaper, she moved the chair back up into the sitting position. “Don’t you touch that diaper.” She warned as she released me from the straps. “Now let’s introduce you to Ms. Harbourne.” She led the way out of the room. I hesitated. “Like this? In just a diaper?” “Of course. That’s how all of the boys dress.” She held the door open. “Now hurry up if you don’t want to get in trouble.” She motioned toward her bracelet. I quickly followed her out of the room into a hallway. At the other end, Dr. Patel knocked on a door. “Yes?” came a woman’s voice. “Come in.” She pushed the door open and led me into the room where a well-dressed woman sat behind a large ornate desk. She was middle-aged but still in great shape. “Rachel.” Dr. Patel greeted the woman. “I’ve installed Robert’s prostate chip and it is working properly.” “Thankyou Inika.” The woman ignored me for a moment and addressed Dr. Patel . “Good night.” “Goodnight.” Dr. Patel left me alone with the woman. “Hello Robert.” She smiled at me. “You may call me Ms. Harbourne.” When I didn’t respond, she said. “Don’t be rude Robert. I’m sure Dr. Patel warned you what happens to boys who are rude.” I looked at her wrist. She wore a bracelet just like Dr. Patel’s. “Hello Ms Harbourne.” I said, feeling like a schoolboy greeting his teacher. “Good boy. You can sit down.” She indicated a chair in front of her desk and sat on it. “I’m sure you’re very confused right now.” She went on. “You are in a little town I have founded as a model for a new society, one where women are in charge. I was sick of being mistreated by men and after the divorce settlement I had the resources to do something about it. I made contact with talented women who shared my feelings and together we built all of this.” “So, you’re punishing me for being a man?” I asked, hoping that maybe there was some way to talk my way out of the bizarre situation I had found myself in. “Oh no honey. This isn’t a punishment.” She said with genuine sweetness. “We don’t hate men. We understand that you can’t control yourselves. It’s not your fault. I promise that you are safe and we will take good care of you. If you accept your new position I’m sure you can be very happy here.” “And If I’m not happy here?” I asked. “Can I leave?” “No. I’m sorry but I can’t let you do that.” She said, “You would tell people what we are doing before we were ready and they would come and ruin everything.” I sighed. It was worth a try. “Okay but what about the diapers?” "Men have always needed women to take care of them like you are babies and we are your mommies." She explained. “Keeping you in diapers just makes that explicit.” "I thought you said it wasn't a punishment." Maybe I could at least negotiate a less humiliating outfit. "It isn't. It is just a reminder of your dependence on us, to keep your ego under control. When a man's ego gets too big it only creates problems for himself and everyone else." She explained patiently, as though she was speaking to a small child. "I know this feels like a punishment right now because you think it is humiliating. That's just your ego creating a problem for you. Let it go, accept your dependence and you will be quite comfortable in your diapers." Without thinking, I rolled my eyes at this. “Bullshit.” I realised my mistake a moment too late. “Robert.” Ms Harbourne rose from her seat and her tone became suddenly stern. “I will not accept rude language from you.” “I’m sorry.” I said. I was about to burst into tears as I anticipated the pain from the device they put in my butt. However, as she made her way around the desk, she didn’t reach for her bracelet. “I understand that you’re cranky. It is past your bedtime but next time you use bad language you will be punished.” Her voice was already softening again. “Do you understand?” “Yes.” I nodded quickly. “Yes, Ms Harbourne.” “Good Boy.” She was smiling again. “Now, I’d better get you to bed.” Ms Harbourne held out her hand. I hesitated for a moment but knew she could force me if she wanted to so I got to my feet and took it. She led me out of her office and back through the building to an entryway with double glass doors looking out into the dark night. “It’s a bit chilly outside.” She took some neatly folded baby blue fabric from a nearby shelf. “Let's get you into this.” She let part of the fabric hang down, a pair of blue fuzzy legs. “Step in.” She held it out for me. Eager to finally have my diaper hidden, I did as I was told. The material was soft and warm. The feet were closed and had rubber soles built in. Ms Harbourne pulled the rest of the material up my body and guided my arms in before pulling up a long zip which ran all the way from my left foot up to my neck. I realised that I’d just been dressed in a footed bodysuit like a baby but I didn’t mind. It felt snug and comforting. Outside, I tried to get my bearings. As Ms Harbourne led me along a footpath, I looked for the big building where Melanie and I had found Brad. If I could identify that, I could figure out how to get back to my car. “This is my house.” She indicates the building we were walking toward. “You’ll stay with me until we decide who will adopt you.” I rolled my eyes at the idea of being adopted. Fortunately, she wasn’t looking at me. Then I spotted the building I was looking for. From where I was, I could see the entrance and, above it, a sign which read “Milking Shed.” I was about to make a break for it when I remembered that I didn’t have my keys. With a sigh, I followed Ms Harbourne into the house. As soon as we were inside, she unzipped my bodysuit. Reluctantly, I allowed her to remove it, leaving me in just my diaper again. I wasn’t cold, It seemed that the buildings here were kept at a comfortable temperature for walking around naked. From the entrance, she led me into the living room. Two long white leather sofas and a large marble coffee table were in the centre of the room, leaving plenty of space on every side. An enormous television took up most of one wall. The other walls were decorated with paintings. “Now, I do need to get you into bed.” She said, “But, before that, are you hungry?” My stomach had settled down since the laxatives and was now feeling very empty. “Yes.” “I thought you might be.” She sat at the end of one of the sofas. “Come and sit with me.” She patted the cushion next to her. I didn’t understand what was going on but I didn’t want to get in trouble so I joined her. As I did, she began unbuttoning her blouse. She pulled it open and, with absolutely no hesitation, undid a clip at the front of her bra, releasing her breasts. From my position, next to her on the sofa, I could just see the smooth pink skin behind her open blouse and the large, dark nipple protruding from that. I nearly got up for a better view but that wasn't necessary because she turned to face me, showing me everything. She then began massaging her breasts, one in each hand, kneading the soft flesh. I didn't know what was going on but I was afraid that if I asked she might stop. Out of habit, my hand found its way down to my groin and started rubbing my cock through my diaper. However it remained totally limp, apparently unimpressed by the show. “What’s the matter?” Ms Harbourne teased gently. “Is your diaper wet?” I blushed and moved my hand away but kept watching her play with her breasts. Soon drops of liquid began to form on the nipples. She looked down and smiled. "Okay. I think they are ready for you.” “Huh?” I was confused. “Ready for what?” “To nurse, silly.” She collected some of the liquid on her finger and transferred it to my lips. It tasted sweet. “This will be your food from now on.” I had mixed feelings about that. I certainly liked the idea of putting her breasts in my mouth. However, drinking her milk, especially while dressed like a giant baby, wasn’t appealing at all. “Don’t be shy.” Her hands moved to gently guide my head down into position. Frozen by indecision, I neither cooperated nor resisted and she pulled my face against her chest. I felt her firm, wet nipple pressed against my lips, demanding entrance to my mouth. Part of me wanted to open wide and get a mouthful of breast but I couldn’t bring myself to surrender to this babyish treatment. “Open up.” Mr Harbourne said, her tone as sweet as the milk I could already taste dribbling into my mouth. Resting my head against one arm, she took hold of her breast with the opposite hand and rubbed her nipple back and forth over my lips. “Come on. All men love boobies.” She wiggled a finger in between my lips and used it to force my mouth open. “Just another way you never really grow up.” I considered biting her finger but I was sure that would not end well for me. She soon managed to pry my mouth open enough to force her breast in. “There you go.” I tried to protest but intelligible speech was impossible with my lips wrapped around her nipple and the movement just made her milk squirt into my mouth. I swallowed it and the action squeezed more out, it was a vicious cycle and I soon realised the only way out would be to nurse until the milk was finished. Luckily, it actually tasted pretty good. She let out a sigh of pleasure as I settled into a rhythm “See. It’s not so bad.” She was clearly enjoying this. “We know you boys never grow out of needing to breastfeed. It’s why you’re obsessed with our breasts. You turn it into something crass but that’s just because you can’t admit what you really need.” Unable to argue, I just continued sucking and swallowing. She held me firmly against her body. “We’ve developed a way to make our breast milk a complete and balanced diet for an adult. You’ll never need to eat anything else.” Her breathing and little involuntary movements told me she was enjoying this. When the milk from that breast stopped, she moved me to the other one. She stroked my naked back, running her hand down to the waistband of my diaper and back up. “Good boy. Drink it all up.” Finally, I finished and Ms Harbourne released me. “Okay. Now let’s get you to bed.” Not bothering to refasten her bra or blouse, she stood and led me deeper into the house. “This will be your nursery for now.” She pushed open a door, revealing a bedroom furnished with an adult-sized cot and change table. Under the change table were stacks of diapers just like the one I was wearing. “Do you need a diaper change before bed?” Without waiting for a response, she patted the seat of my diaper and then gave my groin a little squeeze. “Nope. Still clean.” She lowered the side of the cot. “In you go.” When I hesitated her voice once again took on a stern edge. “Do I need to remind you what happens to naughty boys?” She didn’t need to remind me. I climbed into the cage and she pulled the side back up, clicking it into place. “Good night.” The edge was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “There’s a baby monitor.” She pointed at a baby blue plastic device mounted high on the wall. It had a camera pointed down into the cot. “So I can check on you. If there’s anything wrong, just call out and I’ll hear you.” With that, she turned off the light and left, closing the door behind her. Now alone, I considered ripping off the diaper. However, that would leave me naked. My next thought was climbing out of the cot. The bars weren’t too high. I could easily pull myself over them but then I considered the camera. I had no way to know if Ms Harbourne was watching. I decided that she’d just glance at the video occasionally and the chances she was watching right then were slim. I’d have to risk it. I pulled myself up and threw one leg over the rail. Suddenly, the pain hit me again. I let go, instinctively moving my hands to protect my groin. As I fell backward, I wet myself from the shock and pain. I hit the mattress and the pain stopped. “Crazy bitch!” I said, angrily. Moments later, the door opened and Ms Harbourne stepped inside. “I warned you about using bad language.” She turned on the light and crossed the room to the cot. I was so afraid that I wet myself again as she lowered the side. “Come here.” She held out a hand. Reluctantly, I took it and let her help me out of the cot. She led me to a chair where she sat. "Lay here." She patted her lap. "What?" I didn't understand. "Boys who say bad words get spanked." She explained. "No way." I backed away. "I am not letting you spank me." She made an exaggerated motion toward her bracelet. "Be careful, Robert." I got the message and positioned myself across her lap. She hooked he fingers over the back waistband of my diaper and pulled it down just far enough to expose my butt cheeks. Whack. Her palm came down on my bare bottom, making me yelp in pain. It stung far more than I had expected. "Why does it hurt so much?" I whined, pathetically. Whack. She gave me another smack before explaining. "Your prostate chip lets me adjust your sensitivity down there. I have turned it up to help you learn your lesson." Whack. "I've learned it." Whack.I wet myself once again as the next impact landed. Whack. The pain and humiliation were too much and I started to sob. "I'm sorry." I flinched as her hand came back down to rest gently on my tender bottom. "It's okay. It's finished." She left her hand there for a moment then said. "Go get up on the change table and I'll get you into a dry diaper." I stood up, still crying and waddled over to the change table with my soggy diaper hanging off my throbbing bottom. I climbed up on the table and laid down on the soft towelling on top.. Ms Harbourne came over to the table and untaped the diaper. “You’ve really soaked this one.” She rolled it up and dropped it into the bin with a heavy thud.. “I think I’m going to need to keep you in thicker diapers at night.” I just laid there trying to get my sobbing under control as she wiped my privates clean. The gentle, caring attention was soothing and by the time she slid the new diaper under my bottom, I had calmed down. The padding definitely felt thicker than my previous diaper and as she pulled it up between my legs, it forced them apart. I looked as she stuck the tapes in place. The shiny plastic bulged out ridiculously from my crotch. The print on this one was stars, all with friendly little faces. “Almost done. Just need to make sure the leak guards are right” Ms Harbourne announced, inserting a finger into each leg hole. It tickled but in a not-entirely unpleasant way. “Otherwise all the padding in the world won’t save your bed.“ I squirmed as she ran her fingers around my thighs. Clearly she’d left my bottom extra-sensitive. “Okay. Down you get and back into your cot.” I climbed down, moving awkwardly in the puffy diaper. With my knees forced apart, I couldn’t walk normally and waddled back to the cot. “You look adorable.” Mr Harbourne giggled as she followed me. “I might need to keep you in these overnight diapers full-time.” As I climbed back onto the mattress, she encouraged me with a gentle pat on my thickly padded bottom. “Now don’t try to get out again. I probably should have warned you that the cot has sensors which automatically trigger your chip if you get out.” She raised the bars back into place. “The same thing will happen if you get too far from one of these.” She held up her bracelet. “Goodnight Robert.” She once again turned off the light and left the room. Even sleeping was awkward in the enormous overnight diaper. I couldn’t lay on my side with the bulk between my thighs. I tried my back but the padding under my bottom made that uncomfortable. Finally I settled on sleeping on my stomach, of course this meant my diapered butt was sticking up in the air. I tried not to think about how babyish I looked.

This is a story that I've already completed, and I'll release the parts as I get a chance to edit. It's the story of a boy going into high school who gets sent to stay with his aunt during the summer and she treats him the same as his younger cousins. The Drive to my Aunt's House My mom was deployed to the Middle East the summer after I finished eighth grade. My mom was a single parent, so I went to stay with my Aunt Amanda for the summer. She lived in this remote mountain town, and I didn’t know any kids my age who lived near her house. I was fourteen, which made me too young to get a job, and too old for summer camp. I would spend all summer with my two younger cousins. Scott was seven years old, and Debbie was five. In truth, I liked my aunt, even though she still treated me like I was a little kid. For some reason, she didn’t realize I was a teenager and didn’t need to be supervised all the time. My mom warned me, “Tommy, I know it feels like Aunt Amanda treats you like a kid, but if you can show her that you’re mature, she promised to give you some more freedom and responsibility. But that means that you have to be helpful and respectful. You might need to help with your cousins and, of course, clean up your messes.” The truth was, despite being fourteen and entering high school, I acted more like a kid. My mom still had to remind me to brush my teeth and tell me to take a shower at night. She constantly had to tell me to put away my things, and I never did any chores without being told to. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I just never thought about it unless she asked me. I also would pout and whine, and even tantrum, when I didn’t get my way. I don’t think I was a bad kid, but I was just really immature for my age. I’m not completely sure, but I think my mom hoped time with my aunt would help. My mom and aunt met halfway between their houses. Scott and Debbie were in the car with my aunt, and I noticed a diaper bag in the back of the car. That surprised me because I thought Debbie was already potty trained and figured Scott was too old for diapers, at least during the day. We did our goodbyes, and I took a seat in the passenger side next to my aunt for the three-hour drive to her house. Now, despite my mom’s warnings, I overindulged in chips and soda along the way, and my stomach was already rumbling when we got on our way. I figured it wasn’t an emergency yet. I didn’t want to ask my aunt to stop because she already warned me before we left. She asked, “Tommy, it’s a long drive, do you need to go potty before we leave?” That annoyed me and I replied, “I’m not a baby! I can hold it.” Aunt Amanda noted my sharp tone, “Ok, but remember, you can’t ask me to stop unless you go potty now.” The pressure grew and I tried to fart a little to relieve it, but it wasn’t just a fart. I felt something come out, and it wasn’t just a small leak. It was enough that I could feel it in my underwear, and it wasn’t long before I started to smell it. I was fourteen years old, and I just pooped my pants! I wanted my aunt to see me as a teenager and not just some little kid, but that wouldn’t be possible if she knew that I pooped my pants. I tried to be discrete, but Aunt Amanda noticed the odor. She asked, “Scotty, did you poop?” “No.” Aunt Amanda then asked, "Debbie?” “No, Mommy. I’m a big girl.” “I know you are, honey. It smells like somebody pooped, so we’re going to stop.” We pulled into a rest stop, and everybody got out. My aunt checked Scott and Debbie first. Scott didn’t poop, but he wet his Pull-Up and his mom said, “Scotty, that’s your second accident. That means that you need to go back to diapers. We’re going to take a break from potty training.” I tried to sneak off as she was dealing with Scott, but she saw me. “Where do you think you are going?” “I need to go to the bathroom?” “Not yet; I need to see if it was you.” “WHAT! Don’t treat me like a baby. I didn’t poop my pants!” My aunt shot me a stern look, “Do you need to go to time-out?” I shook my head and meekly said, “No.” “Ok then. I understand that you want me to treat you like a big kid, but I can’t treat you like a big kid unless you act like one. Do big kids throw tantrums?” “No.” “That’s right, and you just threw a tantrum, didn’t you?” “But …” I didn’t get a chance to finish my protest. “Did you just shout at me and cry that you didn’t poop?” I nodded. “If you didn’t, let me check.” “Please! Let me go to the bathroom. I’ll clean it up.” “Was it you?” I blushed and cried, “Only a little bit.” “So, it was you; why didn’t you say so?” “I was embarrassed.” She placed a change pad from the diaper bag in the back of her SUV and said, “Hop up so I can take care of your mess.” “Um. What? Can’t I just go to the bathroom and clean myself?” My aunt shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Tommy. I need to make sure you’re properly cleaned.” I protested, “I can do it myself. I’m not a baby!” I hoped that would make her realize that I didn’t need her to clean my butt, but she just rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Really? Do big kids poop their pants?” “It was an accident!” “Yeah, it was, and I need to make sure it won’t happen again.” “It won’t happen again, I promise. I’m not a baby; I’m fourteen years old.” By this point, I was whining and begging. Aunt Amanda shook her head and said, “Tommy, if you want me to treat you like a big kid, you have to act like a big kid. So far, I’ve seen no evidence that you can do that.” “What? I am a big kid. You can’t do this.” “Do big kids poop their pants?” I shook my head. “Do big kids pout and whine?” I cried, “I’m not pouting!” By this point, Aunt Amanda was tired of it, “Look! If you’re going to act like a baby, I’m going to treat you like a baby. I can’t potty train you if you’re not cooperating.” “I am potty trained. It was an accident.” She laughed and said, “I certainly hope so. I’d hate to think you did that on purpose. However, at my house, an accident means that you have to wear Pull-Ups until you can show me that it won’t happen again.” She took a pacifier and ordered, “Open up.” I asked, “What’s that?” and as I did, she plopped the pacifier in my mouth. “That’s a pacifier. That’s what you get when you whine too much in my house. Keep that in your mouth until I take it out. Now be a good boy and lie down on the mat.” I resigned myself to having my aunt clean my messy bottom but pleaded for more privacy. In a muffled voice, because of the pacifier, I cried, “Can’t we do this in the baffroom?’ “I’m sorry honey, but you’re too old to take into the women’s bathroom. We have to do this out here.” “But you’ll see my --,” I was too embarrassed to say it in front of my aunt. Aunt Amanda grinned, “Honey, I’ve changed lots of little boys. I’ve even changed your diaper a few times.” I closed my eyes and let her lift my legs and clean my bottom, just like I was three years old. She finished wiping my bottom and then praised me, “You’re being such a good boy for me. It is so much easier when you’re not squirming.” She put my legs through a Pull-Up and then told me to lift up, so she could finish putting the Pull-Up on me. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” “I guess so.” I suddenly realized that everybody would see me in just the Pull-Up when I got up to put on my shorts. I asked, “Can you help me with my shorts?” “You want me to help you get dressed?” “I don’t want anybody to see me in just the Pull-Up.” She nodded and then said, “Let’s see what you have in your bag. You can’t wear the ones you were wearing because they need to be cleaned.” After she finished, she helped me up and asked, “Are you going to be a good boy?” I nodded, and she took the pacifier out of my mouth and said, “Ok, that’s good. Keep this in your pocket to remind you what happens when you pout.” She then pointed to the package of Pull-Ups and said, “These are just in case. You still need to use the potty. If you can use the potty for three days, I’ll let you wear underwear again. But, if you don’t, you are going to stay in diapers until I can potty train you. Scotty is going back to diapers because he wasn’t using the potty, and the same thing will happen to you.”

I'm really sorry for the delay on this one. I'm just trying to make everything perfect, and this doesn't feel perfect yet. But I'm probably as close to perfect as I'm going to get. I know this chapter is really short. I'll try to have a longer one up by next week, okay? Anyway... If you haven't read any Academy Works stories, there are five others in this universe. They are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), Academy K (Part 4), and Academy A (Part 5). You don't have to read any of the other stories to enjoy this one, but there are a lot of references and overlap. If you're in this for the long haul, and you want to know about the entire universe, I really do recommend reading this one after the other five. As always, you can support me at this Patreon link. Thank you for all the comments and likes over the past year, and I hope to finish this project soon! ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy M By Mia Moore "The just are blind to love, and the lovers are blind to everything else." -The Source Mistake One I flipped through the dossier. Of all the cases they wanted me to start with... "So?" "You're sure she's a candidate?" I asked. Eli nodded. He was the Academy's problem solver, and his first problem was the hardest one. How do we identify the candidates? "Judith Levin, age twenty-eight." "And she's been Touched?" I flipped the page. There was a picture on this one: a brunette with half-closed eyes and a faraway look. "Yep," Eli said, which was all that he had to say. If she'd been Touched and he was able to compile a dossier, that was proof enough. She didn't disappear. "So what am I supposed to do," I said sharply, snapping the folder closed. I entwined my fingers in front of me and leaned forward to meet Eli's gaze. He could intimidate anyone, but not me. I'd been working with him for far too long. "Keep her occupied. She's done her part, but she's still an Arcana. She's dangerous." Sure, keep her occupied. Eli was asking me to babysit God. "Why me?" I asked. That was the real question I wanted answered. "There are a thousand other people working here that could handle this." Eli smiled when he said: "She's into tall women." "Well, shit..." "No one is better than you, Maria," Eli went on. He was goading me, but he wasn't wrong. "Where is she?" I asked, entertaining the offer. "Academy B?" "M," Eli said flatly. "Wait, really?" “——— isn't taking any chances." "I guess not..." I twirled my hair in thought. If keeping Judith in line was really so important, then I might as well take on the extra responsibility. It would give me more leverage at the end of all this. "So you'll do it?" Eli asked. "I'll do it." "Good." And then Eli dropped the stoicism for just a moment to give me a smile. "You've got this." "I'm not worried," I said brightly, without a hint of dishonesty. But I should have been worried. I should have shown an ounce of caution, but my pride never let me make such compromises. Determination and commitment motivated me, and they would motivate me to oblivion. Judith Levin would be my downfall, and that cascade began when I accepted her as my responsibility. She was my first mistake.

I've seen plenty of diaper messing / wetting videos and I remember one where a girl was punished for wetting her panties and was diapered. She used the diaper and it was "super soaked" as the caretaker called it. The diaper looked like the pee was going through the front and the whole diaper was really swollen and yellow. I want to know how to do this if you know please tell me!

Hey everyone! I'm new here, but have been a super long-time lurker. I started this story a while ago, pre-pandemic, but have recently been interested in continuing working on it. Full disclosure, I initially posted this on reddit years ago, but I'm such a fan of a lot of the writing and discussion that happens here, so I figured I'd throw my hat in the ring. I would love any and all feedback and criticism y'all might have! Could help me as I start mapping out where I'd like to go with the story! This is a gay story, so if that's not your thing, fair warning. There's also some cursing. And finally, though these first three chapters don't involve it (beyond a passing mention), there will be messing involved in this story later on. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter One: A New Beginning I nearly slipped on a pile of loose dirt as I sprinted around a corner into a narrow alleyway. My heart thumping out of my chest, I swiftly dodged a heap of trash bags and a stained couch missing one of its cushions. I couldn’t look back. There was no time. I wasn’t sure quite why I was so afraid, or where exactly I was running, but regardless I zoomed my way out of the alley and around the corner onto the adjacent street. Suddenly finding myself weaving through a million cars and taxis and dogs and pedestrians, I just about lost my mind. I could feel some sort of doom trailing behind me, crashing like some sort of tidal wave. But I couldn’t think about it. I swear, it was as if all that I was, my entire essence had become just RUN RUN RUN RUN. If I was even breathing, it was light-years faster than my pace, like, a thousand breaths a second. Don’t breathe, I thought, just run. Don’t turn around, just run. Don’t think.... Oh god, what’s happening? I looked down at my legs leaping across the pavement, but something was wrong. They weren’t moving. I could feel my body piercing the air, speeding down the street like some deranged, out of control bullet, but my feet just hung in place. Staring at my limp legs, I could hear the mighty flood approaching, only inches behind me. Before I could even turn to meet my fate, I was consumed by immense, devastating crash, cracking my bones and crumbling my body beneath it. I sensed the wave pulling me in, breaking into every crevice of the world, drenching everything in darkness. ******** “Jesus fuck!” Without warning, I jolted awake, out of breath. Blinded by the sun, I looked over at my brother hunched over at the wheel. “It’s called a blinker, shit head!” he swerved his truck a little, going to town on the horn. “What the hell, Jake?” I scratched the sleep out of my eyes. “Sorry dude, the road’s filled with jackasses today,” Jake turned and looked at me, adopting the same annoying singsong voice he used to tease me with back when we were younger. “And good morning Zachy, hope you enjoyed your little nap while I had to drive here in silence.” “Screw you, man.” I yawned and stretched upright in my seat, trying to get my bearings. How long had I slept? We seemed to be cruising at a decent pace down the highway. I took a few heavy breaths and my pulse finally started to slow down. I grabbed my phone out of the passenger door. 11:20pm. We probably still had a good hour or so before we arrived. “Look, I’m sorry,” I said as I opened up facebook out of habit. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.” Jake looked back at the road. “You gonna need to change soon?” “What? Come on Jake, are you seriously... no, I’m fine, okay?” I blushed, and turned to look out my window. “Sorry Zach,” Jake chuckled. “Just askin’. We still got a ways to go.” “Well, I’m good, so....” I didn’t even finish my thought as I buried my attention into my phone. Truth is, I didn’t know if I was dry or not. Look, it’s super embarrassing, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but to be totally honest... I’ve always had issues controlling, I guess you’d say, my bathroom habits. Like, it’s a thing. Has been my whole life. Forgetting a few random incidents over time, I pretty much stopped regularly pooping myself back when I was seven years old, and by the time I started 8th grade when I was thirteen, my daytime wetting mostly went away. However, no matter how much I cringe, or how many hours before bed I stop drinking, or what pill or nasal spray or alarm my parents gave me, I never quite outgrew wetting the bed. Just imagine that! Being nineteen, about to enter your Sophomore year at a big, prestigious university, top of your class, a solid group of friends... and you still piss your friggin' pants. I mean, who wants to be, let alone be friends with, a guy who has to wear diapers to bed, and on long trips, and sometimes even to long exams or movies, just to avoid staining their clothes and furniture? Even though it’s been almost two decades, I still find myself constantly shocked and disgusted with myself. Not really finding much of anything interesting on Facebook (no surprise there), I subtly crossed my legs and reached my hand down to feel my crotch. Charming, I know. I sighed and relaxed my shoulders. There was no denying it. I was wet. Not even that, I was soaked. I can tell you, wearing an adult diaper at all (especially these big overnight ones my parents got me) is thick no matter what, but a diaper full of pee is a whole other story. Rather than the tight, stiff padding I’d felt when I put this diaper on before the ride, my hand was now greeted with a super thick, mushy bulb of squishiness covering my groin. Instinctively, I lifted my butt and felt underneath. Still firm and flat... still dry down there. “You okay there, buddy?” I turned to see Jake staring at me feeling myself up. “It’s cool if you do need to change.” “Dude, drop it. I’m fine,” I pouted back at him. I hated that I still had this problem, but not as much as I absolutely loathed that anyone on this planet, especially my brother, knew about it. At least none of my college friends had found out yet. “Look Zach, I’m not bustin’ your balls or anything. It’s just when we’re living together this year, especially if I’m gonna have to drive you around and shit, I mean... there’s no use being weird about it, right? I already know, I don’t give a shit any more, and it’s gonna be pretty hard to hide, so... whatever you’re pissed about, just try to get over it.” Of course he had to use the word pissed. “I’ll last the rest of the way, okay? It’s cool.” I rolled my eyes and landed them back at my phone. I hated every second of this. “Whatever you say, man. Just let me know.” Jake turned on his blinker and merged to the left, and I swear I could see a slight grin on his face. I was happy to be getting out of the dorms and to start my Sophomore year, and while I was mostly pumped to share a small house with my Junior brother, I couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t make it easy on me. Chapter Two: Moving In By the time my brother pulled up into the driveway of our new house, I was desperate to get inside. Not only was I just ready to be away from him after his frank discussion about my... needs... I also seriously needed to run to the bathroom. It wasn’t long after Jake and I stopped talking that I could feel the urge to pee slowly creeping up on me. Even though I was already wearing protection, there was no way I was going to use it consciously, especially since I’d already wet it during my unexpected nap. After all, what was the point of denying I might need to change if I was just gonna end up leaking all over Jake’s leather seats? Before Jake had even fully come to a stop, I was already busting out of the truck and sprinting up the steps too our new house. Focused on the ever increasing pain from my bladder, I grabbed the handle of the front door and pressed my whole weight against it. Nothing. I was stopped dead in my tracks. “Slow down there, man, I still have the keys,” Jake laughed behind me. I whirled around and watched him slowly step onto the driveway, digging through a large envelope full of our move-in supplies. I don’t know why I assumed the house would be open. “Well hurry up Jake, jeez, “ I pleaded, gritting my teeth. “What’s your rush? Just use your diaper.” Was he serious right now? “Shut up, man!” “Well that’s what it’s for, right?” Walking up to me, he pulled a key out and handed it over. I immediately grabbed it and jammed it into the lock. “Well you don’t have to say it out loud.” I struggled for a second, before I finally got the key in and turned it open. “I’m just messing with you, Zach. No one’s even around.” “Whatever.” Even though we’d both toured this house just a few months earlier, it still took me a good moment to remember where the bathroom was. Feeling like my bladder was essentially the gate of Helm’s Deep just shy of bursting open by a torrential flood of Orcs, I rushed down the hallway near the kitchen and nearly threw myself at the toilet once I found it. Without hesitation I jerked open my jeans zipper and shoved down the top of my boxer briefs and diaper. Pee was already trickling out of my dick, but I didn’t have time to care care. I adjusted my aim the best I could and let it loose. Ohhhhh god, it felt so good. In a haze of euphoria, the stream slowed down to a stop. I opened my eyes for what felt like the first time and turned around, only to see Jake standing in the doorway. “Dude, what the hell?” I shouted as I tried to tuck my junk back in and hide the diaper with my shirt. “Enjoying the friggin' show?” Jake just laughed. “I still think it’s funny you won’t say fuck.” “Well fuck off, how about that?” He raised his eyebrows and laughed even harder. I even surprised myself with that one. “Well shit, look at you. Come help me unload when you’re ready.” With that, he left. I slammed the door shut (should’ve done that before) and, letting out a long, beleaguered breath, I checked the damage. The toilet seat was covered with a puddle of my yellow piss, and of course I’d managed to get more than a few spots on my pants in the process. Welp, at least I didn’t downright, full-on pee my pants. Hearing Jake throwing down some heavy boxes out in the living room, I ripped open the four tapes on my diaper and balled it up on the counter. Trying to hurry and get out of there, I froze and caught a quick glance of myself in the mirror. My stubble was coming in pretty dark, which I thought actually looked pretty good. I’d taken a risk over the summer chopping off my long high school locks and getting one of those cuts with the shaved sides with longer hair on top. I had been so used to my old shaggy style that I wasn’t sure how much I liked this new look... I’ve always been a bit lanky and goofy, and I guess I just didn’t have the confidence to sport what I thought was such a bold, adult haircut. I had to admit though, seeing myself there with my slicked back, dark brown hair, with a solid 4 o’clock (at most) shadow, I couldn’t help but think that I was a pretty darn good looking man. I buttoned up my now loose jeans and headed back out the door, feeling satisfied with myself. “Hey, come help me out with the bookcases.” My brother had already gotten four or five big boxes into the house, and had worked up a small sweat. Neither of us was particularly athletic, but dang if we couldn’t get hard work done when we put our minds to it. The next couple hours were mostly uneventful, just moving our crap into the house. We figured it would be best to just get everything in and sort it out into their respective rooms later. The less time struggling out in the hot summer sun, the better. After getting the bulk of the boxes and bins, we helped each other carry our beds and furniture into our rooms, and together we set up a nice little couch and coffee table left over from Jake’s old house. It was well past 3 in the afternoon when things started slowing down. I pried open one of our kitchen boxes and got out a cup to pour myself some water as Jake grabbed a pack of toilet paper and ran off to use the bathroom. I chugged down almost the entire glass when I realized my crotch was feeling a little damp. I glanced down only to see a sizable wet spot right in the middle of my jeans. Crap. Crap crap crap! I had been so focused on lugging heavy boxes back and forth that I hadn’t even noticed the urge to pee. How long had it been like that? Did my brother notice? Suddenly I heard Jake yell out my name. “What’s up?” I shouted back, trying hard to rub the wet spot dry with my hands. “You’re shitting me, right?” He called out again. I chugged down my second glass and I could hear Jake making his way down the hallway back out to the main room. The second he turned the corner, my heart sank. There he stood, holding my used diaper up like he was a hunter, showing off his latest kill. Chapter Three - New Start, Same Problems I stood there, acutely aware of the wet patch across the front of my pants, my brother gaping at me and holding up my old, soggy diaper. I didn’t know what to say. “Look, I know there was no trash can in there yet, but like... you could’ve at least taken this to the garbage out front, or something.” With his scrunched up nose and furrowed brow, he made no effort to show how disgusted he was. Or was he disappointed? Probably both. “And dude,” he continued, “You gotta clean off the toilet and flush! That shit you left for me was nasty.” “I’m sorry, Jake. I was in a rush and I guess I–“ “I’m not mad bro, but just like... be a fuckin adult, right?” He walked over and handed me the diaper of shame. “What do you want me to do with this?” As if I didn’t know. He laughed incredulously. “Go throw it out, dude. There’s some trash bags on the table.” I stood dumbfounded for a second, but knew he was right. Slapping my cup back on the kitchen counter, I walked over to the table and pulled out a bag. “And, uh,” Jake paused for a second as I shook open the trash bag and my old diaper plop down into it with a thud. “You might wanna grab some new pants there, huh buddy?” I could feel my cheeks turn crimson as I stepped out into the front yard and over to the garbage bins at the end of the driveway, doing my best to cover the front of my pants with the bagged up diaper. I don’t really like to talk about it, but these kinds of accidents had been happening more and more frequently ever since I started my freshman year. Even though I’d always had issues day and night, I had gotten through my Senior year at Oak Park Academy without any full blown accidents during the day, and I was only wetting the bed, like, three or so nights a week, which was a huge victory for me. I even stopped packing an extra pairs of shorts in my backpack for a good five months! However, college hit me hard I guess, and just seemed to screw everything up. After only a week into my first semester, I began waking up each morning to that familiar damp, musty feeling of a saturated diaper more and more often. Before I knew it, a month had gone by with no dry nights, and then a semester, and then a whole school year. I couldn’t even make it through naps without releasing a flood that rivaled Noah’s after a while! I really hoped that removing myself from the stress of school and returning home over the summer would reset my body, but it kept happening. Every. Friggin'. Night. Thankfully, this has been so regular my whole life that my parents and brother didn’t make any issue of it when I kept throwing out clearly soaked diapers every morning and after every lazy mid-day nap. God, I never thought I would use the word “thankful” and “diaper” in the same sentence, ever... but it was nice that they didn’t raise any fuss about it. What’s really been ticking me off, though, is that at some point during my very first semester at the University, I began finding my underwear various degrees of damp every time I hit the bathroom between classes. That’s nothing particularly new for me, but this was another level. It never made it’s way past my boxer briefs and into my pants (or at least I’ve been very good at convincing myself that it hadn’t), but it was enough that I spent more days than I care to admit with a wad of toilet paper stuffed up under my penis. I knew that was gross and kind of a roundabout solution, but I don’t know... it mostly worked, and was waaaaay better than having to pad up during the day and essentially admit my old, childish problem was coming back. Today was a different story, though. This was the first time in well over two years that I had an actual stain on my pants, and I wasn’t asleep, or sick, or drunk. I didn’t even know if it had all happened at once or just gradually. It was a total surprise. I tossed the bag into our garbage bin, and silently thanked God there was no one out in the street that afternoon. Walking back into the house, I saw Jake loading dishes into our kitchen cabinets. “Hey, I went ahead and put your suitcase in your room. Come help me when you’re done changing.” He was so nonchalant about everything, which I guess was chill, but it still made me want to sink down into the floorboards and disappear forever. I walked into my room, and this time remembered to shut and lock the door. I emptied my pockets and stripped my pants and boxer briefs off, standing there for a second staring at them. How could this have happened? The pants were fine, but these boxer briefs... dang. There was no hiding I had fully released my bladder at some point during the hard labor of the day. And I hadn’t even noticed. I threw my clothes down and sat on my unmade mattress, a bag with my plastic sheet and other bedding propped up next to me at the head of the bed. I grabbed my phone and saw I had a message. “Zaaaaaaaaaaach you moved in today, right? When’s the house warming party????” Seeing a text from Mason was just about the only thing that could have made me smile right then. We met in the same English Lit class and realized that we lived on the same floor in the same dorm. We hung out pretty much every day freshman year, studying for tests together, or grabbing lunch at the mess hall, or playing Mario Kart with his roommate and such. As far as I knew, he had no idea about any of my issues, which I was really thankful about. Of course, that didn’t mean that I wasn’t constantly stressed about trying to frantically keep it hidden, especially with the many surprise late night visits he made to my single room. Also, and I think this is what really made us get close, we were both gay. I’d pretty much always been in the closet. It’s not like my family would care or shun me or anything–I’m lucky that they’re pretty cool about that sort of thing–but I don’t know. I just never really felt comfortable accepting that part of myself and opening up to other people. One day, though, while sitting on his dorm room floor amongst what was probably three weeks worth of old laundry, he came out to me. His family knew, as I understood, as well as some of his high school friends, but I guess they were all just... weird about it. A sort of don’t ask, don’t tell situation. I had to build myself up a bit inside after he told me, but I knew I had to open up to him too. I couldn’t have asked for a better first coming out experience. We hugged and laughed and I kicked his butt at a few rounds of Super Smash Bros well into the rest of the night. And yes, I definitely, you know, liked him, and thought about him more than a normal person probably should, but I never dared make a move. We were solid friends, and there was no use messing with that. Right? Figuring I couldn't sit there pants-less in my room forever, I swiped the text open and responded, “Soon man, still gotta unpack and get settled in. I’ll hit you up later.” Throwing my phone on the mattress, I walked over to my suitcase. Most of my clothes were stuffed in a box out in the living room, but thinking ahead, my brother and I both made sure to load up a suitcase with some extra outfits and amenities in case we didn’t feel like doing ALL the unpacking today. I unzipped the bag, and even though I knew what to expect, I was still slightly disheartened to see not only my rolled up shirts and pants, but a hefty stack of diapers and wipes, almost laughing at me. I disregarded them and grabbed another pair of briefs and some khakis, then went back out to join my brother, who was now unloading books and video games onto a small shelf in the living room. “What took so long?” He asked, not even looking up from the box. “You didn’t do more to than just pee in those jeans, did you?” “What?” I immediately heated up, stunned that he would even think that. “Little Zachy didn’t make a little poopy in his pants, did he?” He was just enjoying this so much. “Shut up! What, are you nine years old?” He used to rib me a lot for still needing diapers growing up, but this was the first time he’s done it since we were both in college. “I don’t know bro, you’ve done it before, so I just wanted to make sure.” “Okay, well, for one thing, it’s none of your business. And I haven’t done that since, like, 7th grade, so... screw you.” “Dude, you know I’m joking. Come grab some books.” The rest of the day came and passed. We got pretty much the whole living room and kitchen unpacked, plus all our toiletries and towels and stuff put away in the bathroom. At around 7 we decided to call it a day, and Jake heated up this frozen pasta dish for both of us. Finally at the end of the night, I retreated back to my room and grabbed my laptop, dozing off quickly watching mindless youtube videos. Despite my nap earlier in the car, I was feeling super sleepy and decided to hit the hay. I slipped off my bottoms, proudly taking note that it was all still dry, and taped on a diaper from my suitcase. Within literal seconds, I was knocked out cold on my still unmade bed.

Good day dear reader. This is a scene that could be used in various settings. Deliberately, no names have been mentioned, nor have any details been given about how it is done*. The main focus is on the experience itself, the core moment represented by this scene. The story is about role reversal and regression. Full use of diapers is implied (includes messing), but not described in too much detail. We have a male main character, from which perspective the story takes place. He has some kind of ability that allows him to bring others under his mental control and issue orders that permanently change their behavior. *It’s quite similar to hypnosis and this could be the answer to the how. However, it could just as well be a superpower, a special drug or anything else. It’s up to your imagination :D Finally, I have him where I wanted him to be. For his unreasonable and childish behavior, I hold him responsible. If he wants to behave like a baby, he should be put back into diapers. The thought sends a pleasant shimmer down my spine. Now let’s get to work: “You feel so small, so little. Yes, that’s right, you’re just a small baby boy. You belong into diapers; you love the infantile feeling of wearing them. You will notice that you will be unable to cum outside of your diapers. Only wearing your infantile clothes, you may make cummies. You know what the potty is, you know that grown-ups use it, but not you.” Closing the last tapes of the diaper around his crotch, I continue, “When I snap my fingers, you will concentrate all your thoughts of resistance and poop them out. Right into your diaper where they belong. With every push, you will feel my control taking over permanently. With every push you will feel your adulthood slipping away, your ability to get hard outside your infantile prison. As you go poopy, you will feel your potty-training vanishing. First your control over your bladder and as the warmth spreads around your baby dick you will feel your bowl control vanishing too. As you smell what you push out into your diaper, a sudden urge to suckle on something will overcome you. It will stay with you forever. When you finished soiling yourself and your diaper sags under its weight, you know that it is all gone.” With a sadistic smile, I snap my fingers. With increasing arousal, I watch the show. With delight I watch the knowledge leave his eyes as his diaper starts to fill up with squelching sounds. Soon joined by a hissing sound as he poops out his bladder control ... A couple of days later: She was naked, with only a thin diaper around her legs, swinging her hips in a hypnotizing way. “You are a naughty little boy, enjoying the sight of my diapered pussy.” I had to agree, my member getting harder every moment. With a mischievous grin, she orders, “Say it!” My cheeks brightly flushed I answer, “I’m a naughty little baby boy!” With a predatory gaze she states, “Yes, you are a baby boy! Do you know what baby boys should wear?” This is my darkest fantasy coming true, I can’t resist answering, “A diaper, I should wear a thick diaper to catch my accidents!” This seems to satisfy her, as she grabs my requested diaper from nearby. Opening it up and patting it invitingly for me to come to sit in it. I quickly free myself from my pants, presenting my fully erect member. With a seductive voice she suggests, “There is someone eager to get into his diaper. Come over here and let yourself be changed by Mommy.” I can’t resist complying and crawl over to the fluffy garment calling to me. I place myself reverently on the infantile garment, a bit pre-cum dropping from my erect shaft as she closes it around my member. This is heaven, what I always dreamed of. As I give up more control to her, she praises me, “You did well baby boy. Follow mommy’s commands and I will allow you to make fantastic baby cummies for me. You know you crave them, but before we come to that …” What, what is it? The suspense is too much and I ask, “What do I need to do?” With a honeyed voice, she responds, “You need to become a good baby boy, but you were quite naughty, so we need to fix that first.” She makes a small pause, looking at my last victim, which is crawling on the floor in a yellowed diaper. A former adult, which I turned into an adult baby. He watches me with a gleeful expression as Mommy continues, “Did he ask you to regress him?” With a gulp, I answer, “No, he didn’t.” In an accusing tone she continues, “But you made him this way anyway and we both know that you enjoyed the process very much.” I glance away in shame, thinking back on how aroused I became. How I changed into a diaper afterward, envisioning myself in his position as I started to fill it with my own stinky mush. The feeling of warm mass spreading at the back of my diaper as I made baby cummies in the front. Yes, she is right, I’m really just a naughty baby boy. With tears in my eyes, I look at her for salvation. My arousal still increasing, as I realize deep down where this is going. With a victorious smile full of confidence she states, “There is only one way to atone for your sin and becoming my good baby boy. Tell me what you are willing to give!” I want to resist, to stop this whole thing, but I am too deep under her control. My dick is throbbing in anticipation, as my resistance melts away. In panic, I look over to anybody for help, but the only thing I see is my former victim, watching me with a satisfied grin as I succumb to the same fate. With a pathetic whimper, my resistance breaks, my dick nearly bursting from pleasure, as I respond, “I will give up my adulthood.” With a predatory look, she caresses my infantile dick through the diaper, praising with a honeyed voice, “Such a good boy, getting rid of his adulthood for me. Say the words dear.” She has absolute control and I’m just a little baby boy. I … I wanna be a good boy, I want to make cummies for mommy! My mind feels like it is coated into a soft pink blanket, as I say the words, “When you snap your fingers, I will concentrate all my big boy thoughts and poop them out. Right into my diapee where they belong. With every push I will feel myself slipping more and more into infanthood; my ability to get hard outside my beloved diapers vanishing. As I go poopy, I will feel my potty-training vanishing. First my control over my pee-pees and as the warmth spreads around my baby dick, I will feel my control over my poopies go bye, bye as well. As I smell my mess, all my grown-up words go bye, bye too. When I finish going poopy for Mommy, I will know that it is all gone for good.” Mommy looks sooo proud of me, as she snaps her fingers ...

Suzie Applegate was wetting her diaper. Let’s just get right to it, shall we? ‘Why’, you ask. ‘What kind of story starts with that?’ ‘Are we done here then,’ you might even ask? But I assure you there is a reason. You see, for Suzie that was not the story. That was nothing new. She was a woman in her thirties with what she adamantly called a 'budding' career. It just so happened that she had also worn adult diapers her whole life. What made this particular day a story she would remember was instead the inevitable, mischievous hand of fate, without which I believe none of us would have a story at all. But fate, as we know, is not always kind, and fear not: we’ll come back to the diapers soon as well. As you know, Fate has been known to use elevators for its machinations. Yes, this is another trapped-in-an elevator story, and no one would blame you for clicking away right now, but then you would never know the fate of poor Suzie, for no amount of button pressing would rescue her from her predicament. Even the emergency call button would prove to be dysfunctional. Their elevator simply stopped with a violent lurch of utter finality and in so doing had apparently made its final transition then and there (should there turn out to be an afterlife for elevators). The building, now that was moving; at least it did so briefly. It started about the same time as the elevator stopped and the lights went out (save the garish emergency lighting with its bright rays and harsh shadows) but it stopped as well -to the relief of our passengers- less than a minute later. This is where our story truly begins for poor Suzie and the other soon-to-be tormented passengers, and if you, Dear Reader, have any interest in finding out where it goes from here, you need only keep reading. I will tell you by way of introduction that Suzie was not a quiet, reserved woman. She was known for her quirky outbursts, but also for getting the job done. Her male coworkers would have me add that she was an attractive woman, but not the type to flaunt it. She had a natural beauty, starting from her undyed, fiery-red, flowing hair (which she kept tied back in a shoulder-length pony-tail) to her smooth skin and heart-shaped face, and finally to her slim arms, shapely legs, delicate hands, and... Well you get the idea. The only thing she lacked, according to the men’s room gossip, was a larger cup size, more risque clothing, and a ‘better personality’. She on the other hand felt quite strongly that the only things she lacked were her own corner office (like the one her supervisor Dick had) and a healthy raise. What does any of this have to do with the elevator, you ask? Well, elevators are like dinner gatherings; if you really want to know how people feel about each other, have them all over for a good roast and see who gets thrown in the oven. (Sadly, yes, that may be my best line, but let’s not dwell on that and instead get back to our story…) “Did anyone feel that?” Dick demanded, looking up at the ceiling with that same unflinching seriousness that his blue, hooded eyes always held at meetings over copy machine policy. His muscular body, braced against a corner of the elevator, belied his role as ‘the guy who never left his desk’. Suzie was still pulling herself up from the floor where she had been tossed by the abrupt halt, and was now helping Joe, or simply ‘the IT guy’ as he was known, do the same. She exhaled loudly and shot her boss a level gaze. “Felt what, Dick? What with it being such a smooth ride today, do you suppose we’re there yet?” He cleared his throat but otherwise seemed immune to the barb. His gaze belatedly surveyed the room. “Is everyone all right?” Liza, Dick’s secretary, was a petite and reserved woman with blond hair and dark eyes. She had been thrown against a different corner, but was still standing. “I’m okay… I think.” “I’m good- oof,” Joe said as he lost his balance trying to get up and fell to one knee. Suzie was bent over him, still trying to help him up, and did not notice the man’s knee pinning the very edge of her sundress to the floor. “Good,” Dick said quickly in his baritone voice. “Now, I feel that under the circumstances, I need to call an emergency meeting to address our situation. As we’re all in attendance, I’ll begin by-” “A meeting?” Suzie said incredulously, releasing Joe and abruptly straightening herself as she turned to Dick and took a step forward. The rest of the objection died on her lips as the sound of ripping fabric distracted them all, and she felt a sudden draft on her legs. She was now only wearing half a dress, and was exposed from the waste down. She noted this inconvenience by a downward glance at the ripped fabric, a pursed frown, and narrowed eyes. (It was an expression that might have said ‘we’ll have a talk about this later’ to a petulant child). Then she resumed glaring at Dick. “Is that what this is? Is everything a meeting to you? Would you-” she shushed Joe with a dismissive wave, “-have a meeting to discuss the building burning down around us too?” “Actually,” he replied in a steady monotone, “one of the things I think we should discuss is that-” She raised her voice to cut Dick off. “This is exactly why I can’t talk with you about anything: you always have to control the conversation and you talk like we’re at some fancy, corporate meeting-” “Miss Applegate,” Liza tried quietly, but everyone ignored her. “You know there are only five of us in the entire division, right?” Suzie continued. “Counting you and your secretary. So your illustrious ‘meetings’ could fit around a card table, and- Yes… You… Mr. IT-Guy, whatever your name is…” she blurted suddenly as Joe tried once more to speak up, “I know my freaking dress ripped! And you know what?” Her voice became mockingly cheerful. “Since we’re all here, why don’t we just have a meeting about that too!” Finally Joe got to speak. “But, your underwear is, umm…” He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose absently in a nervous gesture. “...showing a little.” Suzie did not so much as glance down, though her puffy Abena M4 disposable diaper was indeed on full display - there was no ‘little’ about it. In the quiet of the stopped elevator or any quiet room, its plastic exterior made a soft but audible crinkle when she moved. Even so, she had always preferred it for an all-day diaper on account of it did not sag or leak as easily as the ones that had the cloth-like backing. No one had ever given a sign that they knew, despite her wearing them around the office day after day. In meetings, at the coffee station chatting, or making phone calls in her cubicle, nature would take its course when it deemed proper and she would let it. She wore loose clothing so that it was never apparent. In this case, their work day had been interrupted by the events of this story early on and so she was only a little wet - enough to begin to discolor the diaper’s blue ink (wetness indicator) in the area between her legs, and to make a little yellowish spot. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman in diapers before-” she started to retort defensively. The floor lurched suddenly beneath them and silenced her, and she was thrown off-balance and right into the arms of Dick, who caught her on instinct and used the walls behind him for support. Unfortunately for her, just as the elevator’s harsh full-stop at the beginning of our story had interrupted her stream, this event served to restart it. She felt herself releasing as he stubbornly clung to her. “You can let me go now,” she protested. While the elevator was now sloping towards Dick and the closed door, it was not so severe that she could not stand. “Are you sure you’re alright?” the man replied with an obnoxious helpfulness which presently earned him no points. “I’m fine, alright, I umm…” She exhaled softly with relief as the pressure she had been ignoring in her bladder was steadily evacuated at the same time as her diaper was increasing in weight. She realized after a couple of moments that her pause made it easier for everyone in the cramped space to hear the steady hissing of her pee hitting the diaper. A familiar warmth against her groin was spreading outward once more. Normally she would not have cared too much, but then normally it would have been one more quiet sound in a noisy office - and normally she would not be so exposed. “I’m perfectly fine!” she finished hotly, pulling away from him with unnecessary force. Liza had looked away politely at some point, but she noted Joe staring with wide eyes and open fascination as she finished peeing, the steady hiss finally fading. It did no good to glare at the man; he wasn’t looking at her face. Dick’s chiseled jaw worked quietly for a moment without words as he formulated what he apparently felt was a perfectly coherent and appropriate response. “To get us back on track: in regards to the office dress code…” The others all groaned. “... I believe it would be prudent to add an addendum concerning the sturdiness of fabrics worn as the sole layer of clothing-” “I got it at Penny’s bargain rack, alright! Not all of us have a cushy paycheck and a private, corner office with a view…” “But there is no ‘Penny’s’ anymore, is there?” Joe wondered aloud. “There’s still one left!” Suzie defended. Dick droned on while they argued. “Second, and in regards to a point I was trying to make earlier...” "No, but umm,” Joe persisted in his characteristically self-conscious tone, ignoring Dick as they all were, “I think that’s now… Isn’t that a, umm…” “Whatever! It used to be a Penny’s, alright? They have clothes... at reasonable prices!” She glared at him to discourage a further response. For once it worked, and the argument died. “...fire,” finished Dick, the word loud in the sudden silence. She gave him a slow blink, a pointed exhale, and a tight grimace. “What was that?” “Yes, to recap,” he repeated calmly, placing his hand on one of the elevator’s walls and pulling it away quickly for emphasis, “I believe there is a fire in the building.” Sure enough, a hint of smoke began to waft from the crack between the elevator doors just as he said that. “The coffee shop,” Suzie said quietly to herself while Dick began saying something maddeningly useless about fire routes and office evacuation policy. “I should have just taken the job at the coffee shop.”

Alright, another story in the diaper dimension. One of the main goals is for my writing to be 'fun', and when I quickly wrote a few chapters of Recessive last week and this week, I was very happy with the results. Most of my stories involve "borrowing" ideas from other authors, this one is no different. Since this one is pretty blatant, I want to give credit where it’s due. The concept of Maturosis and a recessive Betweener gene belongs to Personalias, which I hope he doesn't mind me using for this story. I also give a little nod to his story "Unfair". This was written in a hurry, so there might be some mistakes in here somewhere. I hope to get a chapter out per week, but we'll see how that turns out. As always, thanks for reading. *All characters are over 18* *Now with Maturosis spelled correctly* ------------------------ Recessive 1 “Come on, mom! I do not have Maturosis.” As a Tweener, Kaleb was fighting for his life, this was exactly the kind of thing that could put him in diapers. He hated saying what he shouldn’t even have to say; but this wasn’t the first time he had to stand up for his adulthood, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be the last. A letter from the school counselor started this latest brouhaha. In a few typed paragraphs, the Amazon counselor claimed that his behavior wasn’t up to snuff. It mentioned that Kaleb had been forgetful with his assignments, that he was apathetic, appeared bored, slept in class, and it brought notice to the nightmare that was his most recent report card. The school wanted to see some ‘changes’. In fact, the head counselor herself thought that he needed some cognitive behavioral testing; which would never happen to his Amazon stepsister. Now, Kaleb was doing battle against his family in the living room. The small space between the pair of couches, flat screen TV, and his father's oversized fluffy comfy chair became 'No man's land'. Kaleb sat in the Big recliner, dwarfed by the navy blue padding, doing his best to defend his honor against his stepmother and stepsister. Debbie was on her feet, the letter from the school still in her Amazon hands, and there was a stern tightness in her voice. “Your father works seven days a week to put food on the table, and you can’t even be asked to pay attention in class. What’s your problem, Kaleb?” “Maybe he has Maturosis?” added his sweet stepsister. Layla sat on the couch opposite Kaleb and his chair, and she had her Little Parenting class textbook opened and cradled in her loving Amazon arms. This Maturosis train of thought was all her fault, and she knew it and loved it. “I said that I do not have Maturosis!” Kaleb repeated himself, louder and slower this time. “How would you know?” Layla said to him and her mother. “Are you taking a Little Parenting class like I am? Oh, I forgot, it’s a class only for Amazons, which means you're too little to attend. So sowwie, Kay-Kay.” How he hated that pet name his stepsister gave him - ‘Kay-Kay’. “It’s not Kaleb’s fault,” added his stepmom with just a smidge of derision. “It’s in his genes, you can’t fault him for who he is - that’s Unfair.” Yes. His genes. From the day he was born, it was always about his inferior genetic make up. It turns out that his father’s family had a recessive ‘Betweener’ gene that had revealed itself with his birth. Thus, Kaleb was shorter, dumber, and more childish compared to everyone else in life. His mere existence seemed to have shamed his family, and Kaleb believed it was why his mom and dad split up in the first place. His real Amazon mom wanted to baby him, and his Big dad pretended he didn’t exist, working long hours and always out of town on business. Then his dad got remarried to Debbie, and that’s when these kinds of battles began. Kaleb knew these conflicts by heart, always having to prove that he was just as good as his Amazon counterparts. He had expected, and experienced, this kind of talk from other Amazons, but to have it in his house was something else entirely. Still, it shouldn’t have surprised him that it had come down to this; his stepsister being who she was, the same with his stepmom - but it was Layla who was spearheading this latest attack. There was trouble between him and his stepsister from the get-go: Layla being an almost perfect Amazon, Kaleb being a shorter than average Betweener, and both seniors in high school but on opposite ends of the popularity spectrum and the honor roll. It didn’t help matters that Layla was hyper intelligent and had a carnivorous brain that never slept and always schemed. His stepsister was sleek and stacked, blonde and pretty, and the head cheerleader of the varsity squad. Meanwhile, Kaleb made so-so grades, had dark shaggy hair, wore too many black t-shirts, played video games and kept to himself, which was now suddenly a crime according to Layla’s textbook. “My book says that sufferers of Maturosis exhibit the following behaviors: antisocial tendencies such as keeping to themselves, too much talking, not enough talking, too much reading, a disinterest in books, television watching, unable to finish a show… the same with being single, unemployed and without any high school diploma.” “Put a big check next to that one.” Debbie, his stepmom, loomed over his step-sis like a brooding gargoyle wearing mascara. “He hides in that room playing those childish games - almost like a Little.” “Yeah,” echoed Layla, “almost like a Little.” “Come on, Debbie!” Kaleb cringed from the insinuation. “Kaleb, for the last time, call me ‘mom’,” his stepmom warned him with a snap and a raised finger. “I’ve earned the right after dealing with you all summer, just wait until your father hears of this letter.” After putting him in his place, Debbie leaned over the couch to get a better look at the book. Then she casted a second sharp glance at Kaleb as if he was interrupting something important - and not fighting for his life. His stepmother had a pretty face for an overbearing Amazon; that is, when she wasn’t scowling at or threatening him. Debbie had a youthful appearance, a brightness in her complexion, and she kept in good shape, so he couldn't blame his dad for marrying her. It was just that his blonde, decently attractive stepmother had a singular goal in mind when it came to Kaleb; one that more aligned with that of his real mom. “Disrespect towards authority is another sign of Maturosis,” continued Layla. “It says here that the inability to appropriately recognize mother figures and properly interact with older Amazons reveals an innate desire for punishment. Very Maturosis, indeed.” A wild feeling soaked the room, a moist sponge full of potential energy, just waiting to be squeezed. Layla was getting giddy from this excitement, happily kicking her feet in the air. Her cheerful face matched her red and white cheerleading uniform fresh from the pep rally after school. One of her life goals was getting Kaleb put in diapers, which wasn’t some mind reading thing or a product of more insinuation, she had told him to his face… many times. “I do respect you Deb.. I mean, mom…” Kaleb pleaded his case to his oversized audience with fists clenched. “It’s just that this textbook is just painting Tweeners with a broad brush, it doesn’t mean that I’m sick with anything, you’ve got to believe me.” “We do believe you,” said Debbie, “it’s the only reason you’re not in diapers, yet.” “Not in diapers, yet?” questioned Kaleb, his face felt tight and cheek muscles twitched under his eyes. “What have I done to be put in diapers? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Kaleb felt like he got his point across, but as soon as he settled himself back into the oversized chair, Layla flipped back a few pages in that damn book of hers. Then she pointed to a page that was probably dutifully highlighted from beginning to end. “Actually, we read about this issue a few chapters ago. Littles are experts at hiding their potty accidents, they could be having accidents daily without being caught, and no one would be the wiser. It’s more common than we think.” Debbie smiled and patted her daughter on the shoulder. “I love this new school of yours,” said his stepmom. “I’d have to admit that I was against sending you to a mixed school, but I’ll say that I stand corrected.” The two women were loving this special moment they shared. Layla beamed up at her mother, and her mom smiled down fondly — all Amazon through and through. They both looked the same and talked the same, with Layla being a younger, more ‘cheerleading’ kind of clone. As if this Amazonian apple didn’t fall far from the tree, if it even fell at all. “Thanks mom! I had my doubts as well, but they’re letting us work with the Littles at the school. And guess what! I changed my first Little diaper today!” “Oh! Congratulations Layla!” Debbie was hopping in place as she hugged her daughter. “You’re going to have to tell me everything? What was it like?” “What was it like?” Layla giggled, this day was going as perfectly for her as if she dreamed it. “It was stinky, that’s what it was like.” Stepmom crossed her arms and pushed her lips together like she was about to kiss a frog. “Uh-oh. Did some little Little think themselves too big for protection?” “Yeah…” Layla nodded excitedly, “and she had the audacity to want to be a cheerleader as well. I mean, it’s not safe. That’s what we all tried to tell her, she was too Little to be one of us.” “You’re right,” said Debbie. “It isn’t safe to have a Little wandering around a Big school with no one to help her. I’m so proud of you for protecting that Little, and she proved herself to be a pants-pooper as well. You probably caught her before things got out of control, she’s going to be thankful when she comes to terms with her condition.” “I doubt that…” mumbled Kaleb. His stepmom spun to face him. “What did you say?” As hard as this all was, Kaleb tried to explain himself to an insane giantess without triggering her overbearing, often malicious, mothering instinct. “You’ve ruined her life, now she’s in diapers, and she’s stuck in them!” “We didn’t ruin anything,” countered Layla, who said every word to her mother’s approval. “The cheerleaders helped her deal with her condition. So what are we supposed to do with a Little with a potty problem? Just let Callie go messy in her panties?” “No! Nope! No way I believe that!” decried Kaleb. “This Callie girl probably didn’t have potty problems until the cheerleaders made her poop herself.” Layla disagreed with a sharp shake of her head, sending her tight ponytail swaying from side to side. His stepsister flipped forward a couple of pages, grabbed her mom's attention, and pointed at a passage in the book without saying a word. After following her daughter’s finger, Debbie clutched the gaudy pearls around her neck and slowly nodded. Oh, man. This wasn’t good at all. Kaleb mockingly wiggled his head like his stepsister. “What does it say in your stupid book?” “It says that those suffering from Maturosis have an ‘affinity’ towards other victims. Top doctors say that this over-indulgent empathy is yet another symptom. If a Little, or Betweener, exhibits anger, frustration, or undue sympathy towards a Little that clearly needs diapers, it could mean that those big emotions are really meaning something else.” “Like what?” he asked without thinking first. “If a Little… or in this case - a Betweener - displays these kinds of emotions it may be masking…” Layla held up for a moment, to let the tension build, biting her pink lips and looking between her mom and her book. “I may be masking what?” questioned Kaleb. “Jealousy.” Kaleb squinted at his step sister in disbelief, as if she said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, and it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard - but it was also one of the most dangerous. “Me? Wanted to be treated like a baby? That’s absurd… it’s ridiculous… there’s no proof, only silly um… insinuation! Give me a fair shake to prove it to you. I deserve the benefit of the doubt.” “You’re absolutely right, Kay-Kay.” “I am?” Kaleb stared blankly at his Big stepsister. “You do deserve the benefit of the doubt,” continued Layla. “Our teacher says that just because a non-Amazon exhibits one or all behaviors, doesn’t mean they have Maturosis. This isn’t some kind of catch all condition. Sometimes, but not often, there are a few misdiagnoses that go undiscovered.” Kaleb glared down at his sneakers, letting his heart sink to new depths. Imagine being misdiagnosed with something as sinister as Maturosis. That would be like serving a life sentence in a plastic prison, when you were innocent every single day. “That’s why they made the Cushioning test,” Layla explained to the room. “It’s a psychological remedy that can bring out the worst symptoms of Maturosis without the headache of constant surveillance.” “I’ve never heard of this Cushioning test,” Debbie grouched as she folded her arms. “It must be something new, they make everything so difficult these days. Back in my day, if we saw a baby we put a diaper on her, it was that simple. And now we have tests.” “Oh, mom. Don’t be so old fashioned. We live in an age of science and kindness, not like how it used to be, that was just being cruel to Littles. Now we help them, not hurt or condemn them.” “I guess you’re right,” sighed Debbie. "What does it say about bad grades, or any other signs in the behavior of a Betweener?" They’re sick, established Kaleb, in his head of course. They were absolutely bonkers, completely bat-crap crazy, and he needed to get out of that room. He rose from the chair to go back to his bedroom, if he was careful, they wouldn’t say anything. “Where are you going, Kay-Kay?” Layla flashed her violent blue eyes at him. “We’re not done yet.” “Oh, I thought you guys were finished,” he stuttered and took a step back. “Listen, I’ve got some homework to do, so… if you don’t mind…” Layla smiled. “I’ve got some homework, too.” “And…?” Kaleb noticed that she was staring at him hungrily. “And I need the help of my little bro!” Layla clapped her hands together enthusiastically, which was alarming to say the least; but Kaleb said nothing, dead behind the eyes, keenly noticing his smiling stepmom and aware of his squealing stepsister. There was no getting out of this, he had better chances of flapping his arms and flying out the window. "Does this homework have anything to do with those bags you brought home?" asked Debbie, with a gleam in the eye. “Maybe.." offered Layla. "What do you say, Kay-Kay? Wanna be my helper?” “Help you do what?” Kaleb shrugged his shoulders. “I’m going to need a few more details before I say anything.” “Well, today we got a special assignment from Little Parenting class. We’ve got to perform a practice Cushioning test over the weekend. Most of my friends are planning to work with Littles, they were going as a group to a daycare, but I thought it would be easier if Kaleb helped me. Mom, I’m so swamped at school, especially with the big dance coming up. I figured if the school wants him to do some 'testing', and I need to perform some 'testing', I can be the one to help Kaleb." "That's so nice of you to think of helping your stepbrother. You are growing into a fine young lady - and you are very busy.” His stepmom then turned his way. “You should help out your sister, Kaleb. It may ‘help’ you in the long run." "Help me do what?" he asked his stepmom. Debbie reviewed the letter a third and a fourth time before explaining. "The only places that offer these kinds of cognitive tests are at Little Procurement Centers, and they're not going to give you a fair shake if you fail them. Trust your stepmom on this one." He trusted her on this one, 100%. That still didn't mean that he had to do whatever Layla wanted, and his stepsister never did anything that was good for him without it later turning bad for him. At least she was predictable in that manner. “Wait a sec.." Kaleb turned to the two women. "You’re actually going to make me do this baby test?” “The school says that you need it,” answered Debbie with a shrug. “Why are you believing the stupid school counselor instead of me?” Kaleb continued to fight for his rights. “You know how stupid that is? This is all so… so… stupid!” Layla smirked. “Yeah, it is stupid isn’t it.” Kaleb was surprised to find that his stepsister agreed with him a second time, twice in one day like a broken clock. “Um.. it’s just that I’m not so sure I want to do that ‘Cushering’ test. Those things are designed to make Littles fail and turn them into babies. No way I’m doing that, I’m not THAT stupid.” “You’re just afraid that you won’t pass it,” said Layla matter of factly. “No, I’m not afraid of the test,” insisted Kaleb. “I just told you that the test is rigged against Littles…” “But you’re not a Little,” replied Layla. “It won’t be rigged against you. It’s just homework, Kay-Kay.” The way she was so right all the time was infuriating. He could feel the change in the room as his internal workings were beginning to budge, as he tried plant his feet into the carpet before he lost more ground. “It’s still a big ‘No!’ for me. I gain nothing from being your Guinea pig, not an ‘oinking’ thing.” “Guinea pigs don’t ‘oink’!” Layla groaned to her mother. “My stepbrother is a complete moron.” His stepmom butted in, "I don't think you have much of a choice, Kaleb." "I do have a choice, I'm not going to do any of these tests, no matter how many letters the school sends. And another thing, you can kiss my sweet not-diapered butt." Kaleb turned to show his jean clad bottom to the two Amazon women, adding insult to insult, and driving his point home. They were not making him do any kind of test. But that's where he was wrong. Before Kaleb knew what was happening, Debbie jumped into the fray, literally. For a woman in her middle age, she certainly closed the gap between easy chair and couch in a hurry. His stepmom pulled him to his feet by the forearm, in a tight grip he’d never break. Still, he tried. After a couple of quick escape attempts, Kaleb accepted his fate, letting his arm hang loosely from his stepmom’s clenched fist, while glaring as hard as he could at the much larger woman. When he had stopped squirming, Debbie pulled him closer to her in a menacing way, she was a giant spider and he was in her web. The size differential had to be driven home, and she spiked it deep. His stepmom addressed Layla with a biting, callous tone. “What does it say in your book about not helping their sisters?” “Nothing good,” replied Layla, as she tried to stifle another smile. “That’s what I thought,” Debbie said to Layla. “Now, as for you,” his stepmom turned her attention to him. “You need a nice slice of humble pie, so I’m going to check your pants. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you have another chance at making the right choice, or there could be a spanking in order. Then I'll take you to the Little Center, and you can do all of your testing with a red bottom." Kaleb gulped. That spike was driven straight into his heart. “Turn around and face your sister, Kaleb.” He didn’t have to be told twice, shuffling his feet towards Layla. His stepmom kept a firm hand at his back as he turned away from her, and her hold on his arm slackened to give him another chance to do it right. Like the constant battles for adulthood, this was not his first pants check; not from Debbie, not from others, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be his last. However, he wasn’t too concerned. Kaleb kept a clean ship, with a well-squabbed poop deck. On the couch, Layla coyly played with a pen held between her lips. The stupid textbook was still opened on her lap, but her piercing eyes were all on Kaleb and his ‘pants check’. This day was going as swimmingly as possible for Layla, and she wasn't afraid to show her stepbrother how much she enjoyed his petulant child treatment. Debbie reached around the front of his pants to undo the button of his jeans, then with the other hand she yanked them down mid thigh. Kaleb fought the urge to fall to the carpet as his pants fell, but his anxiety-locked knees held him upright. Behind him, his stepmom adjusted the waistband of his gray boxer briefs, before sliding a pair of crooked fingers into the fabric and pulling them back to take a peek at his cheeks. "All clean," Debbie announced to the surprise of no one. The whole song and dance was less about potty training and more about humility. His winning strategy was to try to maintain some bit of dignity on the other side. That was his goal, at least. Kaleb would have to exude some level of over-confidence if he planned on playing this off as just another battle; there was a war to win. "Duh! I told you that I don't have Maturosis. You guys are pretty off the mark, don’t you think? Same with the school and their letter, they're wrong and you both know it.” Kaleb hastily pulled his pants to his hips, and redid the button, and things were almost back to normal. "If we're wrong, then you should do the test," observed Layla. "I still don't know why you won't help me with my homework." "Fine. Fine. I'll do that test, but you two will have to give up something in return." "Oh!” Debbie exclaimed. “I love it when they try to make deals.” "Mom, let's hear him out." Layla slid her book aside before crossing her legs. Boy, her skirt was short. Kaleb could almost see a hint of red bloomers in the provided shadows. "I need him to willing and able to help me, I can't just force him over my knee to make him behave. This is science, remember? There's no room for error." "Alright, then." Debbie let him go, and Kaleb rubbed at the spot where her claws dug into him. "What do you want from us?" Kaleb held his breath before speaking. He made sure that his arm still worked; it did, same with his rapidly beating heart and his burgeoning sense of finality. If there was going to be a showdown, and he would be the one to set the terms. This was the best way to silence his family and take care of the funny business from that Amazon school counselor. "If I pass the test, then you two have to leave me alone. No more bullying. No more pants checking. No more Kay-Kay. No more… whatever else you guys do, like saying that I'd look cute dressed like a Little." Both women guffawed with a capital 'G'. "Alright, alright." Layla put aside her smile to give him the room. "Is that all? What if you 'fail'? It is a possibility." "If he fails, he gets treated like a Little with Maturosis," interrupted Debbie, altogether quiet and harsh. "That is what the test is all about, isn’t it? I’ve had my own questions about his adulthood that I wouldn’t mind having answered.” His stepmom was right about the test, wrong about his adulthood. The Cushioning test was for Littles who needed diapers. So what? Kaleb was a Betweener who didn't need diapers. Even if he did shoddily on Layla's Cushioning test, there was still a good chance that he'd pass the stupid thing, and then he'd be left alone for the rest of his days. No more bothering him about video games, or girlfriends, or his height, or anything and everything that made his life a constant battle. If this was going to end one way or another, it might as well be here and now, and at his own decision making. Kaleb stared down the two women. "Deal." The two Amazons could barely let the ink dry before sealing him to his fate, as Layla spoke for the both of them. "Deal... Now let's get started."

Officer Clarissa woke up to a feminine voice calling her name, "Clarissa, wake up sweety. It’s time to make a nice big present for mommy!" With a slight startle, she wakes up fully, becoming aware of the restraints holding her in place. Her own handcuffs bind her arms to two corners of the bed she is laying on, while ropes bind her feet to the other corners. She feels nude and spots all her gear laying at the side of the bed. As she tries to move, she hears a crinkle and notices the thick diaper she is wearing. With a glare, she looks back to her captor, a humanoid figure with pink skin, red eyes and prominent horns on the head. Shocked, she realizes that it is a demoness. The bouncy breasts and feminine body proportions are a clear indicator. Startled she thinks, “What is a demoness doing here? Any form of stable demons in our realm is a class 3 breach at minimum. Way more than my pay grade!” As if the demoness can smell her fear she reveals a wide grin, showcasing two rows of needle-like teeth. Continuing in a seductive voice, “Don’t be afraid. You are not in danger or we wouldn’t have this conversation right now.” She gives Clarissa a moment to process and come to the same conclusion. Her worry is replaced by uncertainty. The demoness doesn’t look that big, being around a head shorter than herself, but demons are known to have extreme strength, resilience and agility. They are also able to use mana for different kinds of spells, which make them so dangerous. “Okay, stop. Pull yourself together Clarissa. Think about your training!”, tell Clarissa silently herself. The first step is trying to classify the kind of demon. It can’t be a wrath demon, or she would be already dead. Gluttony also doesn’t makes sense with this slim body. Hmm … From the appearance she would guess that the demoness could be a succubus, which would make her a lust demon. At that thought she notices a pink tail appearing from below. It has a heart-shaped tip and quickly crawls closer to her head. She tries to defend herself, but the restraints keep her in place, but as the tail reaches her it just pats her softly on the head, while the demoness asks in a bit of an irritated voice, “Hello, hello. Someone there? Everything ok?” With a slight stutter, officer Clarissa answers, “Ye … Yes! I just spaced out for a moment. Are you a succubus?” This seems to amuse her captor, as she spots another grin while answering, “We have someone clever here. I’m called Lily by the way. You’re guess is wrong, but quite close. I’m a subset of the aspect of lust, but I specialize in something unique. As you may have noticed you are wearing a fluffy, comfy diaper. Just know that I get what I need when you use it in the right conditions.” That makes sense and explains Clarissa’s current predicament. She still doesn’t feel very well, as she just woke up after being knocked out. She needs to use the toilet but has a premonition about how this will go. Let’s not think about this for now and try to remember what happened before. She was about to check up on a hint that they got via phone. The Office of Magical Affairs gets a lot of calls from concerned citizens who misclassify perfectly normal events as magical. On top of that, there are fun calls that aren't meant seriously anyway. The combination of these two facts doesn’t allow the agency to send full teams to each reported location. Therefore, officer Clarissa was sent alone to do the checkup this time. When she arrived at the location, she rang the doorbell and announced her presence as per protocol. Then everything went haywire. Only milliseconds after the door opened something grabbed her and pulled her deftly inside. She doesn’t remember what happened after that. That should bring her to the current situation. With a bit of anxiety, she asks Lily, “What's going to happen now? What do I have to do in order to be released?” With an innocent smile, Lily answers, “As I said earlier you will make a nice big present in your diaper for mommy to clean up. I know you probably don’t want to do it right now, but I have just the right motivation.”, turning around 90 degrees she continues speaking in a soothing voice, “Come here, Peter. It’s time for your show!” Around the corner, a big baby crawls towards Lily. Wait, it’s not a baby, it’s an adult! He wears a frilly pink dress with red ribbons and suckles on a big strap-on pacifier. With each step, some crinkles emanate from his thick, white diaper. The same one Clarissa is wearing right now. Lily waits patiently for him to come closer and then stops far enough away so officer Clarissa has a good look at what will happen. With a mischievous grin, she removes the pacifier and then asks, “Who’s my good baby boy?” Peter answers enthusiastically, “Me, Mee!” With a satisfied grin Lily asks next, “And what do good little baby boys do?” “They do what mommy Lily says!” “Yes, they do. Now show your new baby sister how to make a nice big present for mommy!” “Yesth mommy! Hnnnrrg!” Splisssh! Clarissa watches as the front of Peter’s diaper starts to change color, while she starts hearing more noises. Pbbplrppt, Shplrt, Flrrpt! The relief and bliss on Peter’s face as he loads up his diaper is horrifying to Clarissa, while deeply arousing for Lily. As the poopy logs start to enter his diaper, the demoness turns him around for a better view. Now Clarissa can watch a bulge grow at the back of Peter’s diaper, while he starts to moan in pleasure. The diaper expands as the mess being pushed into it keeps piling up. All the while Lily praises him for doing such a good job while touching her own needy, demonic clitty. While Peter finishes soiling his diaper with quite some noise, Lily takes her now slick fingers, “You see, everything my body produces makes humans quite horny.” and inserts them into Clarissa’s diaper. As Clarissa feels the touch, she notices a certain heat and tingling slowly building up afterward. Changing her focus back to Peter, Lily commands him, “Lay on the floor in a changing position.” The adult baby complies immediately, squishing the contents of his diaper as he gets into position. With a winning grin, Lily opens the infantile garment, releasing quite the smell in the process, commenting, “Aawwww, my baby made such a big poopy for mommy! I’m so proud! Let’s get you your reward!” Peter beams all over his face, looking so pleased as if he has accomplished a big achievement, while he lies there in his excrement. His dick standing erect in the open diaper, coated in his still warm urine. Lily places herself over the steaming hot mess, slowly lowering her pussy over his member. Just a moment before making contact she stops with a wicked grin and with a hissing sound she starts to pee all over Peter’s erect member. His diaper caught the golden shower flowing down his genitals. The demoness doesn’t empty her bladder, just giving a quick shower, before retracting again. Only moments later the smell in the air starts to change. It’s hard to describe and Clarissa can still smell the mess, but her body stops categorizing the foul smell as something repulsive. After making sure that Clarissa will not be bothered by the smell of Peter’s mess anymore, the demoness folds the front piece of the diaper back up and around Peter’s cock. Then she starts sliding it up and down, simultaneously eliciting a squishing noise. Eliciting satisfied moans from him. Squish, Squish, Squish! Lily watches with a predatory gaze as her baby boy comes closer to orgasm. Inlaying her voice with magical energies, she starts speaking to Peter again, “You are my little baby boy, who has problems keeping his diaper dry. Whenever you get excited you lose control over your bladder, going pee-pee all over your fluffy diapee.” Baby boy Peter gives no resistance at all to the magical words, absorbing them like a diaper as they take hold of his mind. As this is accepted as his new truth, they settle in deeply, pushing out more parts of his maturity. The demoness hungrily absorbs this maturity, devouring it, so it will not return. Therefore, making the change permanent for the little baby boy. At the same time as his maturity goes bye, bye, he comes, spurting his load right into his infantile garment that Lily is rubbing over his member. It could be said that he has a literal mind-shattering orgasm. This is the way Lily works and with each sticky her victims make, they go further down their infantile paths, from which they will never return. After Peter blew his load, Lily closes his diaper again, telling him that he will be changed later. For now, he can enjoy the afterglow of his orgasm in his warm diapee. After taking him away, Lily has quite aroused herself. Diaper demons like her, enjoy the activity themselves. Therefore, the sly demoness can’t resist diapering her own sexy tushy, before going back to her newest catch. The feedings always make her a bit drunk, releasing her inhibitions and making her do more kinky stuff. She will have to make some stickies in it soon. Maybe after she is done with Clarissa here. She seductively licks her lips, before reappearing. As she goes over to the bed, she notices that Clarissa’s face has a bright flush by now, as the officer starts getting into heat. With another mischievous grin, Lily crawls onto the bed, positioning herself right over Clarissa. “My, my, what do we have here? A little baby girl in heat? Let mommy help you with that!” Starting to caress Clarissa’s breasts, the officer can’t resist releasing a moan from the pleasure. Clarissa grits her teeth, while vowing in her mind, “No, don’t give in to the temptation. Stay strong Clarissa, you can do it!” At the same time, worry comes up, as her bladder is near its capacity, threatening her with stings to release the pressure. As if on cue, Lily’s hand wanders over to her tummy, starting to gently apply pressure. The demoness watches with glee as the desperation in Clarissa’s eyes increases. It’s like music in her ears, when finally Clarissa’s resistance breaks with a whimpering sound. Hiiisssssssss! The officer starts wetting herself. A golden stream enters her thirsty diaper, splashing around and making it nicely warm and squishy. The relief feels sooo good. Clarissa didn’t know that going pee-pee can feel this good. Unwillingly she embraces the feeling, slowly coming closer to her orgasm. But before she reaches this height, the stream stops and the binding prevents her from pleasuring herself. With a pathetic moan, she protests, before being shushed by Lily. The demoness looks deep into her eyes, “Good job Clarissa! You see, that felt really good, didn’t it? But I want you to go one step further. You know what I want, right? Make me happy and I might even consider letting you go …” Clarissa thinks about the offer, knowing that she will likely not be able to free herself. But in the end, she refuses. Demons are not known to keep their word. Even if, as Lily has worded it she could keep her forever. The demoness replies, “Wouldn’t be fun if you gave in so easily.” She turns herself around so her diapered tushy is right Infront of Clarissa’s face, before announcing, “Feel the power of my secret weapon!” The demoness starts to grunt, as she starts pushing out her magical poo-poo from her demonic tushy. Pffrt! A first fart announces what is about to come. Then the first log starts to enter Lilys diaper. Clarissa watches mesmerized how the diaper starts expanding right Infront of her. With a couple moans Lily continues soiling her infantile garment, just like a baby. Rubbing her clitty through the front as she does the deed. A sickly sweet, magical scent starts to emanate from her poopy, instead of the foul smell of human excrement. This scent is Lilys ultimate weapon, turning even the hardest cases into diaper humping imbeciles. Finally with a loud "Braaapp" sound softer, mushier poop marks the ending of Lilys pooping session. The demoness loves the warm slimy feeling, as the diaper presses her mess against her delicate pink skin. She wiggles around a bit and touches the bulge she created to give her poopy a nicer spread inside her diaper, before standing up again. Now each of her movements is accompanied by a squishing sound, as her poop is pushed around. She stopped rubbing her clitty, even as she is close to an orgasm. She knows that it will be so much better, when done at the height of her feeding. Maybe she shouldn’t do it, as she just fed from Peter, but she wants to reach new heights. Knowing that Clarissa is now enraptured by the sweet smell permeating the room, she undoes the bindings of the officer. As Clarissa smells the sweet scent her arousal increases tenfold. Her little kitty now dropping wet. Her rational thoughts become more clouded as her primal desires increase. She just has to push, giving in to the pleasure. Without actively noticing she starts rubbing her diapered pussy, releasing a sweet moan between the squishing sounds. Lily comes closer to her ear with glee in her eyes, whispering with her demonic powers, “Concentrate on my voice Clarissa.” The officer can’t resist the magic compulsion and listens as if in trance. With a vile grin Lily continues, weaving even more magic into her voice, “Repeat after me: I, Clarissa, am a little baby girl. I’m a good little baby girl who loves wearing her diapers. Only grown-ups are allowed to take off my diaper. I’m too little to know how to properly change my used diapees.” Clarissa starts repeating in her lust-induced trance, the magic taking hold of her mind as she says the words. Lily looks her newest acquisition deep into her eyes as the defiant look in them is replaced by happiness and love. The big hurdle is overcome and Lily speaks the new truths of her baby girl directly to her mind, “You are so little, you have no control over your bladder. You constantly dribble your pee-pee into your beloved diapers. You love the feeling of your warm and squishy diapers against your skin.” As Clarissa goes deeper into the rabbit hole, the awareness of her bladder completely vanishes. Lily knows that her time is running out, but she has a good feeling and tries to go for the grand prize. She gathers the last of her energy reserves and hopes that it is enough, “Using the toilet is for big girls and not for you. You don’t even know how to use them. Always remember that the toilet is scary and cold, while using your diaper calms you down, as it is the right thing to do. When you need to go poopy you just squat down and push everything out into your waiting diapee.” Lily used all of her power, but she managed to finish. There are still a lot more lessons for the future, but this is amazing progress for now. After Lily spoke the last words, there is a vacant look in Clarissa’s eyes, a bit of drool running out of the corner of her mouth as the magic takes full hold and Lily gets her meal. It is sooo much and she is already feeling so hot! Lily’s pussy is dripping wet inside her own comfy diapee. The demoness gives her some time to let it all sink in, carefully applying more of the sweet scent emanating from her own diaper around her newest catch. Making sure to not disturb the changes taking place in Clarissa’s brain. After about a minute later the former officer starts moving again. She waddles a couple steps, her diaper crinkling and she is reminded of her current status. Just like before her hand wanders to her diapered crotch, squishing her soggy diaper against her needy kitty. Squish, Squish, rumble. The new adult baby is reminded by her tummy that she still needs to go poopy. She knows that she wanted to use the toilet, but as she thinks about this idea only a feeling of dread comes up. Why has she ever considered using one? Baby Clarissa doesn’t understand why she wanted to do this, she doesn’t even know how to use a toilet. She thinks a bit more and remembers what she is supposed to do. Like a good baby girl, she squats down, Lily watching her closely as she does so. Then with a grunt she starts pushing. With puffy cheeks she looks quite cute as she does the most infantile act with Lily watching in satisfaction. Hnnnnrg, Pfffrrrrpt! She pushes out a first fart, filling the air with her foul smell, but she is far from done. Prrapt! Braaapppp! The next sounds announce the steamy hot load entering the backside of her diaper. The warm slimy feeling spreading in her diaper is amazing and her kitty feels all tingly, so she masturbates the front of her diaper even faster while continuing to soil her infantile garment. One poopy log after the next enters her waiting diaper, tenting it out to a nice bulge. In the same amount as her diaper fills up, her arousal increases. “That’s my good baby girl! Push it all out!”, encourages Lily in a motherly tone. Clarissa answers with a deep grunt, needing some effort now to keep pooping, as the space starts to run out in the backside of her diaper, forcing the mess slowly towards the front. Her breathing becomes faster and faster as she comes closer to climax. Lily notices and whispers into her ear, “Show mommy how much you love your diapers!” Clarissa convulses in pleasure as she comes hard in her diaper, spewing lewd juices all over the soggy padding, as her diaper trustfully catches her infantile orgasm. At the same time she finishes soiling herself with one last squelching sound from the other end of her diapee. With a wide grin Lily praises her even more, “Good girl, you made such a good job! Mommy is very proud of you!” Baby Clarissa basks in the praise and the afterglow of her amazing orgasm, showing it with a big dumb grin, drool still running out of the corner of her mouth. Just like a good baby girl. But Lily isn’t finished yet, using the momentum she gained she uncovers her full breasts and guides her baby back to the bed. Clarissa follows the little prods by her mommy, her full diaper emits clearly perceptible squishing and squelching sounds from the movement, as the contents are moved within. The warm slimy feeling pressing against her skin feels just right and having used her diaper properly made Clarissa quite calm. It feels just so right, as if this is the natural state, she should always be in. Without noticing Clarissa’s thumb wanders inside her mouth, suckling on it like the infant she just became. Lily watches with a knowing grin and positions herself on the bed, together with her new adult baby. Taking Clarissa’s head into her lap. Lily own diaper crinkles a bit as she sits down on her own mess, but she doesn’t care. Just as little as her new baby girl does about smushing the contents of her diaper. After Clarissa put her head into Lilys lap, she is mesmerized by the full booby in front of her. Again Lily encourages in a soothing tone, “Time for your reward baby girl. It’s time for milkies from mommy. Open wide darling.” Clarissa does as she is told and latches on. She feels so loved and protected in mommies embrace, starting to suckle without a care in the world. Immediately she is rewarded with a sweet taste as her mouth fills with the heavenly nectar. Closing her eyes in absolute bliss as she drinks in big gulps. But not only Clarissa has a good time, as Lily also enjoys the feeding quite much. The diaper demon is so high on the maturity she leeched from her newest acquisition that in combination with the current stimulation, it’s too much and she loses it. Psshhh! Lily loses control of her bladder, wetting herself like a baby. As she breastfeeds Clarissa, her own diaper expands in size, while changing its color. Growing warm and squishy just like Clarissa’s diaper before. That makes Lily sooo horny and she starts touching herself, making the same squishing noises as Clarissa before. Her new baby girl opens her eyes and looks surprised at her mommy, which is having a small accident herself. She stops feeding for a moment and asks, “Did you went pee-pee just like me?” The question increases Lilys arousal to unknown heights as she starts to embrace her darkest fantasy. Lily is completely overwhelmed from all the stimulus and releases a high pitched moan from the pleasure. She doesn’t even notice that she subconsciously starts to impart her voice with magic just as before. Her magic reserves having refilled quite a bit from all the maturity she leeched from Clarissa. As in trance Lily answers with her horny thoughts, “Yes, I just went pee-pee in my diapee like a good little baby girl.”, in her clouded mind state she remembers what she just said earlier to Clarissa, repeating a couple of her commands, “Yes, I’m a good little baby girl who loves wearing her diapers. I’m too little to know how to properly change my used diapees.” With every sentence Lily comes closer to orgasm. She is sooo close. In her haze she thinks to herself, “Just one more humiliating sentence, which Clarissa will probably forget anyway and I can make my own stickies!” With renewed determination she finishes with, “I’m so little that I have no control over my bladder!” As the magic settles in place, Lily experiences a mind shattering orgasm herself! As she comes in her well used diaper she falls back-first onto the bed. This time involuntarily devouring part of her own maturity with a big dumb grin, drool running out of the corner of her mouth. Her thumb finding a way into her mouth, while baby Clarissa crawls over to continue nursing from her breast. Authors note: Lily is not the first diaper demon, getting so high from overfeeding that she gives in to her urges and starts feeding of her own maturity. Its kinda her instincts taking over and making her deepest desires come true. Deep down she wants to be the same as her victims, helplessly filling her thick diapers while having the best orgasms of her life. Clarissa on the other hand is an adult baby now. She did go further then Lilys programming, as she sunk deep into little space. But this is only temporary and the only permanent changes are the ones induced by Lilys magical words. What do you think how this development will proceed? Lily got a taste of her own maturity now and it was way better then any mortal one she ate before. Will she be able to control herself or will she sink deeper into infantile bliss? What about Clarissa, will she be able to stop further regression?

This story has been on hiatus for but while I deal with ... life. But I'm picking it up again and getting back to more regular updates, so I figured I may as well start sharing it here as well. I've been a part of the Invader Zim fandom for a while, and there's barely any ABDL content there, so I had to fix that. Chapter 1: Once is an Accident ... i. “GAHHH!! FUCK YOU, GIR!!!!” The shout from the kitchen had Dib launching himself off the couch and sliding to a halt on the tile in his socks in no time flat. He was greeted with the sight of pink milkshake over every conceivable surface; the ceiling, the counter, the walls, the table, and all over both a thoroughly amused GIR and a very angry Zim. “Shit, Zim,” Dib groaned. “I told you messing with your PAK in the kitchen was a bad idea.” Zim’s PAK sat open on the kitchen table, half dismantled from Zim’s attempt at installing an upgrade. Zim’s body seemed to have shielded it slightly, but it was still spattered with sticky pink liquid. “I didn’t think he was gonna start the blender with the top off!! ” Zim shouted, aggravated, as he rushed to mop up the mess with his shirt before it seeped too far into his PAK. “I can’t put it back on like this!!” Dib checked his watch. He’d been keeping a countdown to make sure Zim’s PAK wasn’t off for longer than the ten minute maximum. “We’ve got eight minutes before it becomes a problem. GIR —” He looked over at the robot, who was currently trying to lick milkshake out of the blender, “— start cleaning up the kitchen.” GIR saluted and gave a shrill, “Okie dokie!!!” before dashing off to grab some towels. “My life is starting to flash before my eyes, Dib!!!” Zim whined as Dib grabbed a handful of napkins and briefly ran them under the faucet. “We’ve still got time, you fucking drama queen,” Dib admonished, shoving a the napkins at Zim. “Start cleaning up with those, and I’ll follow with some rubbing alcohol to make sure everything’s dry before you plug it back in.” Zim nodded and they quickly got to work. It wasn’t long before the tight space made their tag team effort more difficult than Dib had planned, however, especially as Zim’s coordination rapidly spiraled downwards. After watching him smear strawberry chunks around for an agonizing thirty seconds, Dib finally pushed his hands aside. “We’ve got five minutes,” Dib warned. “Let me finish this and you just try to stay conscious.” Zim’s skin was an ashy shade of green and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Even when all he had to do was sit still, he was visibly trembling. “I don’t feel so good, Dib,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know, bug, but just hang in there.” Despite the tension in the air, Dib tried harder than ever to maintain a calm demeanor, reassuring Zim in dulcet tones while scrubbing away at the sticky goo spattered all over. Behind him, he could hear GIR mostly pushing the rest of the disaster around, and he was positive he was going to need to clean that up later, as well. As the minutes ticked down, Dib’s anxiety rose like a tsunami, threatening to crash down on him every time Zim moaned in discomfort. He was down to his last minute before he knew it, and there was still a cluster of wires he had yet to clean. It was just out of reach and if he had more than sixty seconds left, he would have grabbed a cotton swab to finish cleaning them off. As it was, he twisted a napkin to give it a bit of rigidity, and blindly stuffed it in while checking his watch. “Shit.” Thirty seconds left. He shook his head and pulled his makeshift cleaning device back out. “This’ll have to do, Zim.” He leaned over and hauled Zim up onto his lap. The poor little Irken was barely even responding at this point. With seconds to spare, Dib lifted the PAK to Zim’s back and the cables shot out to reconnect with the ports on Zim’s back. Zim’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned incomprehensibly, but as he squinted and rubbed his eyes, the color was beginning to return to his cheeks. “You feeling alright?” Dib asked nervously. That last spill had been worryingly close to an awful lot of connections. Zim nodded, sliding off Dib’s lap and onto the floor. He did a couple toe touches, stretched his arms, and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Yep. Everything seems to be in or—” A sudden zap of electricity made his body convulse and PAK spark. Dib watched in silent horror as Zim suddenly went limp and fell to the floor, antennae twitching twice before falling still. Before a single coherent thought could pass through Dib’s head, he jumped up and grabbed the silicone pot holders from the counter and used them to turn Zim onto his side. The Irken didn’t seem to be breathing, but it was difficult to tell for sure. Dib retrieved his phone from his pocket and held it under Zim’s mouth, waiting for it to fog up. When it didn’t, a sick knot of realization began to form in Dib’s belly. He had no idea how to give an alien CPR. He had a vague idea of Zim’s internal structure, but the question of how to restart things had simply never come up. And when even successful human CPR led to a few broken ribs, he was leery of injuring Zim further. “Stand clear.” The robotic, monotone voice sent Dib scurrying backwards in a panic. Had Zim’s PAK really just spoken ??? Was it allowed to do that on its own?? That question certainly hadn’t ever cropped up before in all the years they’d known each other. Another jolt of electricity arced between Zim’s antennae, making his muscles twitch and jerk for a few painfully slow seconds before he was still once more. Dib leaned forward, heart hammering in his chest and breath stuck in his throat. “Zim?” he whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand. Zim’s face screwed up and he let out a low groan before opening his bleary eyes. “S-sugar …” he mumbled. Dib fell forwards and hugged him tightly. “Oh thank fuck!! I thought you died!!” “Ow … I did ,” Zim grumbled. Dib sat up so fast he saw stars. “ What‽‽ ” Zim laboriously pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his temples. “Well, I’m not dead now, idiot. My systems reset themselves,” he said thickly. “Death is rarely a permanent state, Dibby.” “God forbid there be a normal day in this household,” Dib sighed as GIR scooted by on a towel, oblivious and smearing pink stickiness across everything in his wake. Zim groaned and rubbed his head. “Getting reset depletes sugar reserves, so I’m going to need you to get me off this floor and grab me a snack before I keel over again.” Zim still seemed too weak to properly hold on to anything, so Dib lifted him in a bridal carry and carefully walked him to the couch. He set Zim down, propped up against the pillows, and gently touched a hand to Zim’s cheek. His skin was clammy and slightly pale, but at least he was obviously alive. “Are you gonna be alright?” Dib asked worriedly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just grab me a glass of Tang and a couple sugar cookies,” Zim replied in much more subdued tones. Dib gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You got it.” He strode into the kitchen, but stopped dead at the edge of the tile. GIR was sprawled out on the floor, attempting to make milkshake angels. Dib sighed, edged around the kitchen, and opened one of the cupboards to fish around for a bucket. Once he’d located one — and dumped out all the junk it contained — he filled it with soap, water, and a bit of rubbing alcohol. GIR did better when the list of steps to complete a task was as small as humanly possible, so mixing the cleaning solution before handing the task off reduced the opportunity for errors. “Alright, you’ve had enough fun,” Dib said irritably, shoving the bucket at a thoroughly unphased GIR. “I don’t care if you strap sponges to your feet or make yourself a towel taco, I just need this mess gone.” “Caaaan dooooo,” GIR yelled, snatching the bucket from him and dashing towards the sponges as soapy water sloshed onto the floor. Dib skirted out of his way and busied himself with grabbing Zim’s requested snack. He returned to the living room with a plate of sugar cookies and Tang in one of GIR’s sippy cups. Zim gave the cup a slightly hard stare, but ultimately shook his head and didn’t question the choice. “So I was thinking,” Dib said as he carefully sat down beside Zim, “we should take it easy for the rest of the day, considering you died for around forty-five seconds. We can just hole up and watch some horror movies, get some soda and kettle corn into you, that sort of thing.” Zim snuggled against Dib, head on his chest. “Works for me. I still feel … Ugh , it’s hard to put into words,” he grumbled, taking a long sip of his drink. “Something feels off, but I can’t explain it.” Dib frowned, numerous worries occupying the back of his brain. “We could take your PAK off again and try to do a more thorough job of cleaning it out?” he offered. “Not right now,” Zim said, squeezing his eyes shut. “If you take too long, it’s going to be that much harder on my body. I’m really not in any shape for that right now.” He nestled in closer, as if proximity to Dib would fix things. “I just …” He looked up at Dib, concern scrawled across his face. “Hold me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. Dib’s expression softened to one that was very nearly pity. Zim had a habit of being a pain in the ass and prickly more often than not, but he regularly demanded physical comfort whenever he was feeling less than stellar for any reason. “Yeah,” Dib replied gently. “But let me grab you some kettle corn and cocoa, first.” Zim shook his sippy cup and raised his eyebrows. “In a mug?” “In a thermos ,” Dib corrected. “I don’t need you spilling all over the couch when the kitchen is already a disaster.” An hour or so later, as morning spilled into golden autumn afternoon, the kitchen was finally clean and they were midway through one of Dib’s favorite horror movies. Zim sat snuggled under multiple blankets on Dib’s lap with a belly pleasantly full of warm drinks and sugary snacks. His color has finally returned to normal and he was no longer shivering. By all accounts, he was back to normal. Still, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was different . As he struggled to pin down exactly what or why , a sudden crescendo of music crashed through the speakers in a cheap jump scare, startling Zim back to the present with a horribly unwelcome jolt. He was suddenly glad that Dib had insisted on giving him all his drinks in containers with a top. He grumbled under his breath, ruffled, before settling back down against Dib, vaguely aware that the space between them felt a bit warmer than it had a minute ago. Beneath him, Dib shifted slightly, froze, then freed his arm from around Zim to blindly feel around under the blankets for a moment before coming to a rest. “Er … Zim?” “What?” Zim asked gruffly, still miffed that the movie had managed to startle him as badly as it did. “Did you lose your phone again? Because I’m not getting up this time.” Dib opened his mouth, let out a sort of strangled sigh, then bit the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed. “Did you … uh. Jesus, there is no easy way to ask this …” He pressed his palm to his forehead before spitting out in a single breath, “ Please tell me you just spilled your cocoa. ” Zim turned and raised an eyebrow, holding up his thermos. “No? Why are you—” As he shifted, he finally felt what Dib was talking about, and his eyes went wider than flying saucers. “ Oh my god , Zim,” Dib groaned, taking him under the arms and lifting him away like a badly behaved cat. As he stood up and the blankets fell away, there was no question what had happened. Both their pants were soaked, along with a sizeable portion of the cushion beneath them. Zim stood in a small puddle, dripping and purple-faced with embarrassment. “How did you not feel that??” Dib asked, more baffled than upset. “Everything was already really warm!” Zim insisted frantically. Dib gave him a look that was equal parts worry and horror. “You didn’t even feel like you had to go??” Zim tossed his arms up in frustration. “Do I look like I’m five?” “I’m not trying to be an ass here, Zim,” Dib insisted, trying to tone down his intensity to something Zim would find less offensive. “I just need to know if you had any idea this was gonna happen, before it happened.” “Of course I—!” Zim stopped mid sentence, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t gotten any of the usual signals. Not so much as a twinge. “I mean, I think … fuck.” He stared down at the puddle around his feet. “I … didn’t feel anything,” he finally admitted in hushed tones. Dib pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Shit. Alright. Well, first of all, you’re banned from screwing with your PAK anymore until we sort this out.” Zim shot him a snide expression. “You can’t ban me from fixing my own brain, Dib!” “Until we figure out exactly what went wrong? Yes, I can.” Dib glanced down at his soaked pants with a frown before seeming to give up and start unbuttoning things. “Just take all your clothes off here,” he instructed as he peeled away his wet clothes. “You take everything up to the wash. I’m gonna shower off and run out to the store real quick.” Zim paused in the middle of attempting to pull his socks off, balancing on one foot. “Why are you going to the store?” he asked, suspicious. Dib’s face contorted into something that was somewhere north of innocence and south of pity. Zim scowled back. “Why are you going to the store, Dib ?” he asked, enunciating each word with palpable malice. Dib held up his hands. “It’s just as an ‘in case’ measure, alright?” Zim sucked in a breath and puffed out his chest, blustering and fuming in what Dib could only imagine was very angry Irken. “It was ONE TIME !!!” he finally spat out, incensed. Dib nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Okay … and if it isn’t just one time?” Zim growled something under his breath, fists at his sides. “It might not be related to the issue with your PAK, but if it is, I’d rather be prepared,” Dib said simply. “You’re not putting me in diapers!” Zim snapped. “Fine. No diapers. But I am gonna grab a pack of pull-ups or something, just in case ,” Dib said as he tossed his underwear onto the pile, trying to remain blasé about the whole thing. Which was a difficult thing to pull off while naked and covered in piss. Zim spied Dib’s cock poking out of a thicket of hair and abruptly looked away before he could get distracted. Not to mention, he was vaguely concerned that getting turned on in wet pants might rewire him in an even worse way. He merely crossed his arms and faced away. “I’ll get you some snacks as a consolation,” Dib said as he turned to walk upstairs. “We’re almost out of Fun Dip, right? I’ll get you more of that.” Zim gathered the clothes and blankets and damp cushion with the help of his PAK legs to steady everything. He’d stupidly put his clothes-cleaning contraption upstairs, but at least he’d had the foresight to put it right outside the lift. The stairs were really just for Dib’s benefit. It was the only way the kid got any exercise, some days. Zim pulled aside one of the large speakers beside the TV to reveal the interior of an elevator, and climbed inside with his bundle. He reached the top just as Dib finished hosing himself off in the shower, and got to work loading the machine with all of the damp clothes and blankets. Dib dressed himself in a flash, hurriedly striding towards the stairs before Zim was even finished. “I’ll be back before you know it!” Dib called on his way down. Zim gave only a non-committal grunt. “Text me if you think of anything you want!” “Hmph.” Zim rolled his eyes and slammed the door to the washer shut, irritably poking at the controls until it chimed happily and began chugging away. Zim waited, one antenna perked, until he heard the front door close and lock behind Dib. His human would be gone for at least ten minutes, and ten minutes was all Zim needed to get back inside his PAK and fix this irritating little hiccup once and for all. ii. Dib’s truck rumbled along the road back home, the breeze from the windows making the bags beside him billow and snap. He caught a glimpse of the package contained inside and felt himself blush slightly. Although the situation was embarrassing and slightly worrying when it came to Zim’s overall health, Dib found that he was strangely un-squicked by recent events. Even though Zim had pissed right in his lap, he hadn’t really found the situation all that revolting. If he hadn’t been so shocked at the time, it might have even been a little hot. Zim, caught in an embarrassing situation, dependent on Dib to make things better … Dib shook his head to clear it as he pulled up to the base. He doubted he could get Zim on board with that sort of roleplay. But he could dream, at least. He killed the engine, grabbed his bags, and hopped out of the truck. Scattered leaves blew across his path, catching on the tacky lawn gnomes Zim still insisted stand guard outside. Dib would have been lying if he said he didn’t find Zim’s sense of decor at least a little amusing. He opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m back!” he shouted cheerily, kicking his shoes off. He started towards the stairs, then stopped dead. The whole base was eerily quiet, except for what he’d initially written off as the wind whistling over the roof. But as he stood there, barely breathing, it had begun to sound an awful lot more like sobbing. “ Zim ??” When there was no answer, Dib dropped his bags and raced up the spiraling steps. He came to a screeching halt at the doorway to their bedroom, where Zim was crumped on the floor, sobbing and sitting in a puddle of something that Dib would have bet money wasn’t tears. Nevertheless, Dib rushed over and scooped Zim up, hugging him close. “What’s wrong??” he asked, rubbing the small of Zim’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “I tried to fix it!!” Zim wailed, breath hitching in his throat. “The wires … they were all — hic!! — fused in the wrong spots. I tried to separate them, but … but once I put my PAK back on, it … it shorted out again. And … and when I woke up I — hic!! — I was on the floor and I know I just made it worse!!” Anger swelled in Dib’s chest for a moment, but it was quickly snuffed out by Zim’s obvious upset. There was nothing to be gained by cussing him out for his actions. He was already suffering the consequences. Plus, the sounds he was making were causing Dib heartache like he’d never felt before. All he wanted was to put things right. “It’s gonna be okay,” Dib murmured, hugging him tightly. Zim shook his head, face buried in Dib’s shoulder. “No, it isn’t !! I don’t know what’s wrong but something just isn’t right!!! ” It was hard for Dib to argue. He’d never seen Zim so worked up before. He’d seen him get a little teary over things or sometimes even cry out of frustration, but he’d never dissolved into such a thoroughly inconsolable state before. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can go back to taking it easy, okay?” Dib said softly. Zim took a few shaky breaths in an attempt to get ahold of himself. “Bath,” he finally mumbled, wiping his eyes. Dib was slightly taken aback. Zim usually avoided anything deeper than a puddle like the plague. “I was just gonna let you shower off, but yeah, we can do a bath, if that’s what you want.” He stood up and carried Zim to the bathroom, watching with growing concern as Zim buried his face in the front of his hoodie. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bathtub and turned on the taps, putting his wrist in the stream to gauge the temperature before plugging the drain and gently setting Zim down. “Get settled. I’ll be right back.” Dib made it to the stairs in a few long strides, descending the steps to retrieve two of the bags he’d dropped by the door. On his way back through the bedroom, he tossed one bag onto the bed, then carried the other with him back into the bathroom. He made it back up in time to see Zim adding a hefty amount of bubble bath to the water. “You’re really going all-in on this, huh?” Dib remarked as he put his back against the wall and slid to a sitting position next to the tub. Zim ducked his head nervously. “It smells nice.” Dib leaned on the edge of the tub and reached out to cup Zim’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Yeah, it does. And that means you’ll smell nice when we’re cuddled up together on the couch, later.” Zim pressed against his hand with a soft purr, eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. Dib’s own sad smile slowly faded as the full weight of the interaction started to hit him. He felt like he was talking to a slightly younger Zim. At the very least, a Zim with all the usual sass and salt stripped out. And that had him worried, sure, but the worst part was, he knew full well that some part of him was enjoying the shift. Taking care of a soft, sweet Zim fulfilled some basic need he didn’t even know he had. Zim slowly opened his eyes, and the pink packaging inside the bag suddenly caught his attention. “Do I even need to ask what that is?” he said wearily. Dib gave a weak smile and finally pulled the package out of the bag. The front graphic showed an earth child in a t-shirt and what appeared at first to be purple underwear. It didn't take Zim’s earth-shattering IQ to be able to guess they weren’t that, at all. “I was a bedwetter for way longer than I care to say,” Dib admitted, cheeks going pink. “So I can personally vouch for this brand. Pluuuus ,” he added in a sing-song tone, “they’re purple and pink! Your favorite colors.” Zim stared blankly for a second, then puffed out his cheeks. “Wow, Dib. I didn’t think I could feel any more self conscious about this, but congratulations.” Dib deflated a bit and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, sorry. Just try to remember that it’s not for forever, alright?” Zim opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head, thinking better of whatever he was about to say. Instead, he grabbed a washcloth and thrust it at Dib. “There’s still some milkshake on my back,” he said quietly. “I can’t reach it myself. Can you …? Dib took the washcloth from him, dipped it into the bath water, and gently began cleaning him up. There were strawberries caked along the outline of his PAK, along with the general stickiness coating everything. Zim held uncharacteristically still as Dib worked, merely swirling his fingers in the water and watching the bubble trails. “Are you alright?” Dib finally asked after several minutes of silence. “Yeah, Dib. I’ve always wanted to start pissing myself at random. So, you know. Never better,” Zim replied dryly without looking up. “We could keep trying to fix it, you know,” Dib offered as he poured water down Zim’s back to clean under his PAK. “No,” Zim replied sorrowfully, “it’s not just the wires. Some of the chips are damaged, and they’re not like your computer chips. They’re grown, like crystals. So you can’t just slap a new one in there any more than you can take a slice of your brain and replace it.” He leaned his head against the cool tile, eyes closed. “There are tools to regrow broken chips, but I don’t have them. There’s a chance I could pick up what I need on Vort, but that’s not possible right now because of the political situation.” Dib silently wrung out the washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub. “So you’re …” “Stuck like this for the foreseeable future, yeah,” Zim confirmed, swirling the bubbles around with his finger. “And I don’t even know the full extent of what ‘like this’ is .” “You haven’t been losing any of your other faculties, have you?” Dib asked with a concerned frown. Zim shook his head. “No, I just feel weird. Different.” He pushed the water from side to side, watching the frothy waves bounce around the tub as he struggled to find the words. “Smaller, almost,” he finally whispered. “I just want physical comfort and … simple things. I don’t know …” Dib reached out and put a finger under Zim’s chin, making him look up. “You want me to take care of you?” he asked gently. As he looked into Zim’s eyes, there was no denying that something had permanently shifted. The Zim that sat in front of him seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything about him seemed to cry out for affection, and Dib wanted nothing more than to give it to him. Zim bit his lip nervously before giving a small nod. “Y-yeah. Being taken care of sounds nice.” Dib leaned forwards and kissed him on his forehead, then sat back on his heels. “Good, because that’s what I was planning to spend the rest of the day doing, anyways.” Dib pulled the stopper out of the drain and shook out a fuzzy purple towel as Zim stood up out of the water with a shiver. In one fluid motion, Dib wrapped Zim up in the towel and whisked him up before the alien could protest. Much to his surprise, this got a genuine laugh out of Zim instead of the usual cussing-out. “Man, you are in some rare moods today,” Dib said as he kissed Zim’s cheek. Zim shrugged self-consciously. “I guess …” His blush made his freckles stand out like stars in a dusty desert twilight, and for a moment, all Dib could do was smile and take it all in. “You’re still going to make me put one of those things on, aren’t you?” Zim asked quietly, face falling as Dib set him down on his feet. “Sorry,” Dib murmured, in lieu of saying ‘yes’. “If it had just been the one accident, I wouldn’t push, but, well.” He shrugged apologetically. “Twice is kind of a pattern.” Zim dried himself off slowly, looking over the packaging that claimed the product enclosed “ looks and feels like real underwear! ” It was a bold claim that Zim wasn’t positive would be able to hold up under scrutiny. It also hammered home the fact that Zim was departing the realm of whatever “real” underwear happened to be, and he had no idea if -- or when -- he’d be returning. The uncertainty left a knot in his guts. As Zim finished drying off his legs, Dib ripped one end of the package open and pulled out something that certainly looked more like a diaper than any sort of adult undergarment Zim had ever seen. Dib handed it over and Zim, still skeptical, took it and examined it closer. At least Dib had done his best to get the good colors. But that was really the only bright spot. Zim pulled the stretchy sides wide enough to step into it, then shimmied it up until the padding was flush with his crotch. He wiggled it around a bit, noting the muted crinkle the thing made as he shifted. He looked up to meet Dib’s eyes. “This is a diaper,” he said with a wry look. “It’s just a pull-up,” Dib corrected. “Call it whatever you want, Dib,” Zim said with a sigh as he walked towards the bedroom closet. “Doesn’t really change what it is. You know. I know.” He gestured half-heartedly towards the packaging. “Even those lying marketing executives probably know.” There wasn’t much Dib could say to that, so he gave Zim a sort of well-meaning pat on the head, and went to dig through the dresser for a change of clothes. After changing into some ridiculously fluffy pajamas, they settled in for an afternoon of sugar and scary movies with the hope of taking Zim’s mind of what a disaster the day had been so far. Zim had been concerned that Dib would want to keep a bit of distance between the two of them, but instead Dib seemed to want him as close as possible. Dib tended to be fairly affectionate as it was, but tonight he was all but smothering Zim with his love, cuddling him and preening his antennae. “Normally I’d never say this, because I’m worried you’d rip my face off and wear it as a hat, but you’re really cute,” Dib murmured between cheek kisses. “I wouldn’t kick your ass for that,” Zim said dismissively. “You always assume I want to be referred to in hard, masculine terms, but I’ve never said that.” Dib raised his eyebrows in surprise. “For real?” “Yeah,” Zim said as he snuggled against Dib’s chest. “I’d like it if you called me cute more often.” Dib smiled and hugged him close. “How about adorable?” “Mm-Hmm. That one, too.” “Sweet?” “Literally and figuratively, yes.” “My little bug?” Zim stopped with a Fun Dip stick halfway to his mouth. Those words made all eight ventricles of his heart suddenly flutter so badly, he was momentarily convinced he was experiencing a cardiac event. Dib laughed nervously, “Alright, not that one. Message received.” Zim hunched his shoulders reflexively. “Um. Actually … say that one again?” Dib looked down, trying and failing to read his expression. “What? My little bug?” he repeated cautiously. Zim closed his eyes, a stupid smile spreading across his face. The words were warm and soft, like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a chilly fall evening. “Oh, you actually like that one!” Dib remarked, more than a little surprised. “I thought the silence was because you were too nice to tell me it was stupid.” “I’m never too nice to call you stupid , Dib,” Zim pointed out with a sidelong glance and a barely concealed smirk. “But yes, when you say that, it gives me the warm-and-fuzzies.” “Sure that’s not because you’ve peed yourself again?” Dib said under his breath. Zim gave him a swift elbow to the ribs for his trouble. “Be nice to Zim!” he groused with a scowl as Dib coughed and grabbed his side. “I’ve had a rough day. Asshole.” “ Fuck , I think you broke something,” Dib wheezed as tears sprung to his eyes. “ Good . Think of that next time you decide that making me feel like filthy garbage over something I can’t help is a fantastic idea.” Zim crossed his arms and leaned his way out of Dib’s lap, flopping against the arm of the couch. Well. There he was. That was the Zim that Dib knew and (mostly) loved. Dib rubbed his ribs gingerly, a sinking feeling in his guts. “Hey, I’m sorry, alright?” he offered gently. “I didn’t mean to ruin a nice moment. I … guess I was just trying to be funny.” Zim covered his head with his arms. “It’s not funny, Dib,” he said, muffled. “It’s one of the least funny things to ever happen to me!” His shoulders shook for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. “… especially because it is wet …” he added, so softly that Dib almost missed it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Dib said frantically, standing up and giving Zim’s sleeve a little tug. “C’mere. Let’s go take care of it.” Zim looked up miserably, wiping the corner of his eye on his sleeve. “I can do it myself, Dib.” “I know you can, but I said I was going to take care of you, so come here and let me handle things.” Dib reached down and made a little “up!!” gesture with his fingers. Zim gave an aggravated little snort, but eventually stood up and allowed Dib to pick him up. He wrapped his legs and arms around Dib’s body, clinging like a toddler, face buried in Dib’s shoulder to hide how badly he was blushing. “You’ve got to tell me when you need it swapped out,” Dib admonished gently as they ascended the stairs. “I was comfy,” Zim mumbled. “If that’s seriously the lie you’re going with, I’m gonna start checking,” Dib said with a warning glance. “Do you want that?” “Of course not!!” Zim sputtered. “It’s embarrassing, okay?? I don't want to draw attention to it.” “You know what’s more embarrassing?” Dib asked as he set Zim down on the floor. “Leaking all over me and the couch. Now, do me a favor and hold your shirt out of the way.” Zim sighed and lifted up his shirt as Dib deftly pulled his pants down and ripped the sides on his pull-up to take it off. He set it on the ground and pulled out a pack of wipes from the bag on the bed, then set to work wiping Zim down. It wasn’t as if Dib wasn’t already intimately familiar with all of Zim’s bits. They had a very healthy love life, and one of Dib’s favorite things to do was put his face between Zim’s thighs and absolutely go to town eating him out until Zim’s legs shook and he couldn’t see straight. But there was something altogether different about having Dib clean him up with all the gentle care in the world, absolutely devoid of sexual subtext. Or at least, that’s how it looked . “I’m starting to think you like this more than you’ve let on,” Zim said suspiciously. It was a stab in the dark, but it was also the only thing that explained why Dib seemed so completely unbothered by the whole thing. Dib shrugged. “I guess? Taking care of you kinda hits a special part of my heart just right,” he said with a genuine smile. “I don’t like that you’re in this situation, but as long as you are, I’d love to get to pamper the absolute hell out of you.” “I said no diapers, Dib,” Zim insisted nervously. “I mean I want to dote on you, dummy,” Dib said as he rolled everything up and brought it to the bin on the other side of the room. “Although diapers would make this whole thing easier. You wouldn’t need to take everything off in order for me to change you.” Zim whined as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms. “Not yet,” he said, a pleading tone to his words. Dib came back with a fresh pull-up, sprinkled with what smelled like lavender baby powder. “Suit yourself,” he said, holding the disposable underwear out in front of Zim. “Step into this, and then we’re done.” Zim put a hand on Dib’s shoulder for balance and did as he was told. “So that’s really it?” he asked as he straightened the leg bands on his hips. “You just like coddling me? You don’t have a piss fetish or anything?” Dib didn’t immediately answer, and when Zim looked up, his face was an indescribable shade of red. “ Oh my Tallest ,” Zim said, face falling. “I trusted you!” Dib fiddled with his glasses. “I’m not getting off on this!!” he insisted. A little too intently, Zim thought. “It’s more like … it’s cute??” he attempted desperately. “It’s weirdly emotionally intimate and it just makes me want to cuddle you, okay??” “So none of it is sexual?” Zim asked dryly as he pulled up his pajama bottoms. Dib tilted his head back towards the ceiling and gave a frustrated moan. “Ohhhh my gawd, alright . Look. Let me put it this way,” he said, face still on the red side of pink. “If we were fucking and you … um … you know …” Zim raised his eyebrows. Having a laugh at Dib’s expense was simply too easy. “ No . I don’t know.” Dib ran his fingers through his hair once, and then a few extra times for good measure. “Okay. Okay okay okay . If you … if you were inside of me, and you pissed …” Dib tossed his hands up on either side of him in a greatly exaggerated shrug. “I wouldn’t hate it , alright??” Zim thought for a moment, foot tapping as he watched Dib squirm out of the corner of his eye. “But would you like it ?” he asked, trying not to grin when Dib’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Gah!!! Yes, Zim! Is that what you want to hear??” he yelled. “That I fucking fantasize about having the balls to ask you to piss inside me and then fuck me in it?? ” A smile tugged at the corner of Zim’s face. He’d never seen Dib snap like this before and it was highly amusing. “Holy shit …” he whispered to himself. Dib continued on with his rant, unaware. “Because I do , alright?? I think that would be hot as hell , especially if you told me what a disgusting, perverted freak I am while you do it!!” He stopped gesticulating wildly and dropped his arms, panting. His glasses had nearly slid off his face and his hair was wild. “Are you happy now??? ” Dib demanded as Zim desperately stifled a giggle with his sleeve. “You have no idea,” he replied with a grin. “I’m not taking advantage of this situation, I swear ,” Dib said, still visibly flustered as he fixed his glasses. “You’re cute and I want to take care of you. I just also haven’t stopped seeing you as my partner so, if you want to still have sex…” He trailed off with a hopeful look. “That option is still on the table.” Zim stepped forwards and hugged Dib around the waist. “Good. Because I haven’t stopped enjoying the thought of being inside you.” Dib ruffled his antennae. “Perpetually on the same page. That’s why I love you.” Zim stepped back and made an “up!!” motion with his arms, an expectant look on his face. Dib rolled his eyes, but ultimately reached down to pick him up. “Alright, alright. One more movie, because I can’t say no to that look. But then we’re going to bed for real. It really has been a long day.”

The Trinket By Horatio Husky Commissioned by Hunter Chapter One The Will Hunter sighed as his mother, who he was currently on the phone with, continued to drawl about the contractual obligations he now had to abide by. His great aunt, or now his late great aunt, had left him a few things in her will that came with a few specific rules. The fennec fox had barely known her, other than seeing her at a Christmas party and once during Thanksgiving when he was very young. She was not really even his aunt, being an in-law and a cheetah to boot. He had heard a few stories about her, some from his mother who had always spoken about her with a degree of awe mixed with disapproval. Whether or not she was even really his aunt in-law was in question sometimes, but her presence in the family was nevertheless appreciated, if not coveted. She had been an Egyptianologist, but not the kind that mostly stays on the campus of a university. Accused several times of being no better than a bounty hunter with a college degree, she would often beguile whoever cared to listen at the taverns and bars she was often found at about her great adventures in the middle east. There were usually many stories told and drinks bought during such evenings. Her alcoholism aside, she had apparently kept up her taste for adventuring into abandoned tombs and caves right up until the very end. They never recovered her, but enough time had passed where her body had been declared lost and her vast collection of artifacts reclaimed by the museums and universities. Judging from their hasty reclamation of such items, they had been waiting for exactly such an opportunity as her disappearance. They had claimed most of the artifacts, at least. “So like, dumb it down for me a bit, Mom?” Hunter asked, a slight note of exasperation coloring his tone of voice as one of his large ears flicked to the side in irritation. It was his mother’s turn to sigh, which was followed up by a response. “You just can’t sell any of the stuff. You’re supposed to keep it as if it were a family heirloom. There’s some evidence to support that this does belong to us give or take a hundred generations.” Hunter replied back. “Right, don’t sell. Just keep it. Anything else?” “Not until they go through the rest of her possessions and check her records. You might be getting some money too, but that’ll take a while.” Right… After the state takes its hefty cut… Hunter thought to himself, but he did his best to keep his sense of sarcasm out of the conversation. “Great, thanks Mom.” “Of course honey, was there anything else you wanted to know about Auntie Tare?” Hunter, knowing that this would probably prolong the conversation for another good hour, shook his head before realizing that his mother could not see his reaction. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Hrm… No, no. I think I’m good for now, still… Processing and all that. I’ll talk to you later Mom.” “Okay sweetie, let me know what’s in the box. It looks mysterious!” “Yeah, I will. Love you Mom.” “Love you sweetie, bye bye now.” The line went silent, and Hunter put his phone down on the table with a sigh of relief. As silence enveloped the apartment, interrupted only by the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the fennec’s gaze drifted over to the box that sat in front of him on the dining room table. The word that could describe the wooden container could only be described as ornate. Carvings of Egyptian hieroglyphs laced with what he suspected was gold lining on the borders of the miniature crate gave the appearance of a most valuable item being stored inside. The wood had been treated with oil, and with great care as well. Part of him wondered if the box might be empty, as the container itself looked relatively valuable. Whatever it was, he was not surprised that his aunt had mentioned that he was not allowed to sell it. I’d probably make a pretty penny off of it too… Hunter mused to himself, as he pushed his chair back and stood up, only to crouch in front of the box in order to more closely examine its decor. He was not literate in Egyptian hieroglyphs, nor was he particularly interested in learning more about them. History had always bored the little fox, and despite having a renowned, though estranged, Egyptologist in the family it never sparked the same fascination and excitement as it did in Aunt Tare. Well, might as well have a look then. Reaching forward, he undid the clasp on the front of the box and pushed the lid open. Its hinges worked silently, and Hunter immediately noted that the entire inside of the box was laced with a vibrant, purple velvet. Amidst the swathes of cloth, Hunter beheld a palm sized brooch made of a mixture of dulled copper and gold. Marveling at it, the fennec’s eyes widened as he scanned its surface. The fennec picked it up with a paw and noted its significant weight. Equipped with a pin which Hunter presumed was intended to keep a cloak around a traveler’s shoulders, Hunter turned the brooch over and let out a surprised breath. The ornament had been placed upside down in its container, and it was studded with several small jewels with one large piece in its center. Peering closely at them, it took Hunter a moment to realize that they were opals. In the center of the metal disk, the largest of the opals was oval in shape. It gleamed as if freshly polished when it caught the last of the afternoon sun streaming from Hunter’s half shuttered window. A small scratch in the center of the opal was the only blemish on the piece, revealing the rainbow colored insides of the gem that refracted in ever changing patterns of color as he turned it over. Strangely, despite the fact that it had been sitting in the box ever since it had been delivered to his doorstep inside of its own, discrete cardboard container, the brooch was warm to the touch. And it felt like it was getting warmer. “It’s… pretty…” Hunter said lamely, to no one in particular. His initial curiosity had been sated, and he was now coming to the conclusion that he really had no use for the gem-encrusted display piece other than to perhaps show it off for his friends. The more he thought about it, being the owner of such a valuable piece now might mean that he would have to take insurance out on it. Great… Another responsibility… The fennec thought grimly to himself. Hunter was about to set the artifact down, when the opal flashed catching his eyes. Blinking, he looked down at the gem and wondered if he had imagined the sudden luminescence that had come from the piece. Gingerly, he brought it back up to his eyes and peered closely at the scratch on the gem’s surface to see if he had missed some refractive angle inside of the opal’s crack. Seeing that there was nothing he could immediately detect, he placed the brooch back down in its comfortable bed, this time right side up with the opal facing the ceiling of his apartment. He thought about where he should put the box, glancing around his apartment and seeing now apparent free space where he might rest it. I’ll probably just chuck it into my closet or something… His stomach rumbled, reminding him that his mother’s phone call had caused him to miss lunch at a reasonable hour. Closing the box, he decided to put his inheritance out of his mind for the time being. Padding over to his closet, he picked out his jacket and fumbled the keys to his apartment out of the bowl they rested in. I’m kind of hankering for some chicken… He thought to himself, his mind already beginning to drift away from the strange set of rocks that were now his, now and forever. He did, however, check twice that he had locked the door to his apartment before bounding down the staircase leading to the lobby of his apartment complex.

Julie and I got into the limo after the man with the driver's uniform put her bags in the back. My friend Tad was already in back of the limo waiting for us “hey guys”, he greeted “Jacob! …. nice to meet you Julie!... a drink? We had flown to San Francisco on an invite. I knew Tad from College. Thaddeus Collinsworth II…. He was a “silver spoon” boy with a trustfund and no inhibitions. He had started a few “very” kinky sex clubs during and after college. And was quite a notorious character -with many “legendary” stories that enhanced his mystique. I had bumped into him on a business trip in Chicago and, after a few drinks in the loop that night, he had invited me to come out to San Francisco and try his “new thing”. I laughed and said I’d give him a call – never intending to. But I must admit it did very much intrigue me and it stuck in the back of my mind. Julie and I had been together for 5 years and we both realized that our sex life needed a little spicing up. Julie was a bit frigid and hadn’t really explored any kink or out there thing sexually. We had tried inviting friends for threesomes – a very embarrassing endeavor -and putting an Ad on a couples sex hookup site. We tied toys and discussed visiting a dominatrix, but we always chickened out or felt it was too silly or embarrassing – so things got very stale. After a near breakup – and recommitment to each other – Tad’s invite came back to me. I felt we should try letting a lifetime professional at curating sexual fantasies(Tad) have a try. He may be able to do something for us. We committed to try and I contacted Tad to take him up on his offer. In the weeks before we left we were very excited and nervous about the trip and wildly speculated about what it could entail…. We both got in very good shape and had shaved our privates bald to look as sexy as we could… we were having quite a bit of sex in the lead up to the trip- which encouraged us that we had made the right choice. We both looked so good to each other and were very excited about the trip. In one very hot session - we both orgasmed intensely – this hadn’t happened in years. We resolved to be open to anything Todd proposed – and be completely open sexually. “I guess you’ve been wondering what the whole “premise” is for the club”, Tad said as we cruised from the airport in the stretch limo. “Its this:” He pulled out a small brass box and took out a couple small yellow pills. “It’s a drug I’ve been working on with a Japanese pharma company. Its not FDA approved yet – but also not strictly “illegal”. It kind of acts as a sexual enhancer” “Like Viagra?”, I asked… I had to admit I was a little disappointed that this was all it was… I could see Julie’s excitement fade a little as well. “Haha… no not at all… just drops your “inhibitions” a little and gets you kind of euphoric and feeling sexy” “Oh, like ecstasy, MDMA?” asked Julie. “Yes, its closer to that… but your not all high and foggy and hallucinating… just euphoric and intensely playful and relaxed and “sexy” – it enhances some feelings and dulls others”, Tad explained. In the contemplative silence he asked, “Do you wanna try?” and held out the pills. ”Don’t worry – its completely safe, I, and the other friends you’ll meet when you get to the club, have done it 100s of times” We had promised ourselves we would be fully open to trying new things when we signed up for this trip and had been too excited and intrigued to say no - also I had known Tad for many years so I had a certain level of trust. So, after some tentative looks at each other… an intense swallow and shoulder shrug we looked at each other, smiled, and swallowed the pills from Tad’s hand. Tad laughed, “Haha, great guys, you are going to have the greatest time of your lives here this week. Trust me. You won’t want to leave!”

“DAAAD!”, Mikey whined, almost crying, “Suzy spilled the baby powder!”. She had been arguing with him for the iPad and when he yanked it out of her hands – she grabbed the bottle of baby powder and threw it at him – it had hit him and burst everywhere. “Suzy! That’s it! Now you’re gonna get it!” said Daddy sternly. Mikey and Suzy we sitting on the floor on the colorful Winnie the Poo carpet surrounded by playthings, cribs, a diaper change station and a pile of baby cloths. They were both just in white puffy adult diapers and nothing else, Suzy’s small breasts exposed as she sat defiantly and frowned at Mikey. This was all an act by them for Daddy, but lately they had both been feeling more and more as if this was all reality. Mikey was 22 and she was 20. They had both dropped out of college a year ago and were broke and flailing in downtown Minneapolis with no real hope - and kind of resigned to their fuck up fate as they were lazy and had no real prospects. They were quite good looking and not above turning tricks for money. About 6 months ago they had answered an Ad in the local alternative paper posted by a sugar daddy, looking for male and female adult babies/ Diaper lovers to take care of indefinitely – all expenses paid in a luxury high rise penthouse. Neither had any interest in this fetish but, in their desperate state, they jumped at the chance. They were both pretty and had slight builds, They were very skinny, tattooed, pale and undernourished looking when they arrived, but now had cute baby pot bellies now that Daddy had fed them so well since. Suze had small almost non-existent breasts and Mikey had a very small penis- they had shared naked photos with “Daddy online and he had accepted their application saying the were “perfect”. They both had dark thick unruly hair, on their heads only - as they were completely waxed and shaved smooth everywhere else on their bodies. “Daddy’s got a special punishment for YOU little girl”, Daddy said as he crossed the room towards her. He pulled her up to her feet. Daddy was a very large muscled and heavy man, he towered over both of them and maybe had 30-40lbs over both of them combined. He put is big hand down the back of her diaper. “Ah, you haven’t done your poopies yet today, hmm? But I bet you need to soon, don’t you?”, he asked. They had both heard her tooting a little and squirming on her bummy on the floor a few times about 10 minutes ago. “Well, DADDY has to go too!”, he said as he laid her down on a blanket and started tearing the tapes on her wet diaper. She wasn’t sure what she was in for - daddies punishments had progressed to ever increasingly imaginative tortures in the last couple months. She accepted them all willingly and found that she enjoyed the depravity and humiliation more and more. She shuddered and gasped a little as the air hit her bare, hairless, pee wet pussy. He pulled down his boxer shorts and squatted over her open diaper facing her. He started grunting as he pushed out his big turd. “Uh…. You’ve been a very …Uh….BAD girl”, he struggled as he strained and closed his eyes. “No Daddy, No”, she whimpered quietly, but accepted her punishment, spread her legs wide, and tucked them up towards her chin… her face turned away and blushing. Daddy’s thick hard log dropped slowly between her legs. It was huge and she felt the heat of it near her exposed pussy lips. The tail end of it fell against her inner thigh and she whimpered again. He finished, sighed happily, and wiped himself with one of their baby wipes then threw it on her lower belly. “Lets get you aaaalll fixed up now”, he cooed deviously. Daddy then took the sides of her diaper and refastened the tapes, making sure to tighly smush the mess against her lower parts. He grabbed a pair of latex panties from the baby change station an pulled them over her diaper – the panties were very tight and had longer legs and waist section, which tapered to prevent any leaks from escaping. She gave a shuddering moan as daddy’s hot load pressed firmly up against her pussy and bumhole as the plastic pants tightened around her. The massive poopoo was very dry, hard and lumpy… and when she squirmed sightly in the plastics, it slid over her clitty in a not unpleasant way. “aaaww, daddy”, she moaned whimperingly as tears came to her eyes. He picked her up, carried her to her crib, plopped her down hard into it (delighting in her gasp as the log pushed inside her slightly) and locked her neck collar to the side of the crib. He put a ball gag in her mouth, and locked it around the back of her heads o she could only moan and whimper and not give him any guff back. “There you go naughty girl – you just think about what you’ve done.”, he smiled. She tried to get comfortable – but any move she made only pushed the stinky daddy poop more against her lower regions. There was no room it the skin tight plastic panties pressing her overfull diaper so snuggly against her. She also knew she was about to poop her own diaper right before this incident occurred, and since she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, had probably kept it in held in too long. She really had to go now, but there was no room left in the diaper. She tried to push - but her poopoos wouldn’t come out against the pressure. Mikey watched her face go red with exertion trying to push her girl poopie out against the tight diaper. He always liked watching when Suzy did her diaper poos, it turned him on to see her face contort and concentrate - then catch a wiff of her stinkies as it filled the room – then the satisfied relaxed smile and glazed eyes as she finished and noticed him looking….. His little peepee would be standing straight up in his diaper and he’d have to go over to his stuffed animal toys and do rubbies against them until he made cummies in his diaper. Daddy FORBID them to touch themselves or each others privates – so they would have to do what they could against objects in the playroom INSIDE their diapers. He little boy clit was hard as he watched her struggle and contort her body trying to find some room for her morning poopoo in the destroyed sealed diaper. Daddy was watching this too – and Mikey saw the bulge in his boxer shorts as his 10” big daddy cock stiffened and he started rubbing it. She tried every position but it only pushed against her little open bumhole harder. She was sweating as she settled on lying on her back and arching to try and squeeze out little nuggets of poo at a time. As she pushed her poops out little by little, it just increased the pressure of daddy’s hard packed log against her pussy – making her gasp with an almost orgasm every time she pushed out a little piece of her massive poo. “Ahem! It takes TWO to tango young man!”, Daddies voice startled Mikey out of his horny trance staring at Suze. He saw Daddy staring hungrily at him and his stomach shuddered. “Daddy needs to punish his little naughty boy too!” His little hard peepee faltered a bit, and a flood of warm pee escaped into his nappy as he knew what was next. “OK, Daddy.” He whispered submissively. Daddy pulled the cushioned foot stool directly in front of Suzy’s crib and motioned Mikey over to it. Mikey crawled, like a cowering puppy that had just pooped the floor, over to stool, bent over it facing the struggling and moaning Suzy(in her own poopy nightmare and not noticing anything else around her), and pulled down his freshly wet diapy - exposing his smooth tight bummy and pink quivering boy pussy towards daddy. His little excuse for a cock had shrunk to its normal 1/2”, and his little rosebud pucker was clenched and expectant. Continued in Chapter 6….

A psudo Diaper Normalcy story. After hearing that ABU hires exclusively ABDL and my own recent experiments making adult nuggys, (jalapeno and cream cheese stuffed dino nuggys anyone?) I began to think what if an ABDL restaurant opened up near an ABDL diaper factory and the community that might grow out of that. Presented for the approval of the sogg butt society, I call this story... A Seat at the Kids Table. If Morgan could go back in time and tell her younger self what the next five years would bring she doubted she would believe herself. The relatively down to earth 19 year old business student would take one look at the 24 year old in blue and pink pigtails, a skirtall with a pink skull sticking it's tongue out, and a massive soaked diaper sagging just below the skirt line, and probably faint immediately. But when a broke college student hears about a good bartending job opening up she jumps on it, and when the owner asks if she is an ABDL she says yes in the mindset of furiously googling as soon as the interview is done. In hindsight it was pretty obvious, but being a 'normie' she had bought the public line about experimenting with traditionally kids food, which honestly was not a bad niche to fill, they even had a few vanilla regulars who came for just that reason. She almost called to reject the job after her quick research, but she decided she would at least give it a fair try, college was for experimentation after all, and never looked back. So here she was on a Friday night doing what she loved, mixing milks, juices, and liquor to help her babies relax after a hard day of work up at The Factory. A spike of warmth in her already soaked diaper made her think about heading to the changing room, so she called across the dining room, "Courty, can you come play? I need changing!" "Yah sissy," the other girl squeaked, "lemme ring out 7 and I will be over." Figuring it would take about a minute she surveyed her bar and hopped over to the only mommy in the crowd, "make sure none of these babies make a fuss while I'm gone. They're generally well behaved for big kids like me, but Courty is closer to their age and can't handle dem alone." The woman laughed, "you just go get that bum clean, I can handle this. Your not that much bigger than them yourself." "Am too!" And she was, she swears. Her ageplay persona was a bratty 7 year old who refused to potty train, much older than the 1-4 her regulars tended to be. "Are not!" Half the bar chorused back at her. "Am too!" She insisted, stomping her foot for emphasis. That sent a quiver through her gut, and she smirked and bent her knees slightly, "these babies dirty their pants because they don't know any better," she started pushing and grunting, "I dirty mine because I'm Mess-chievous." Half the bar started laughing and the other boo'd her. There was even a shouted "your jokes stink," which she obviously shot back with "so's my diaper, deal wif it." And stuck out her tongue before turning to head to the changing rooms. The changing rooms were centrally located in a hallway that separated the kitchen from the dining room, and there were two others waiting for the girls changer. If she hadn't been messy she probably would have gone back to work and tried again in a half hour, but it was considered rude to be messy in food areas for longer than a few minutes. She almost pulled out her phone to browse, when Tommy stepped out of the boys changer. Tommy was one of the newer Factory regulars, having transfered in as a manager from another location at the beginning of the year, and she would pin his little age at around 3 based on their past interactions. She kind of felt sorry for him, it must be hard being little while also pushing 6 and a half feet and being built like a bear, but also fuck he was hot. He was wearing denim shortalls with bulldozers on them, with a red flannel and trucker hat. He had the kind of 5 o'clock shadow that only comes from meticulous shaving and facial hair that wants none of that. In other words, the perfect blend of AB and lumberjack chic, the two things that got her motor running. She had only seen it once before, about a year ago, on a girl who claimed she was just passing through town. She had even had flannel cloth diapers on, and that had been an interesting experience, wet cloth diapers rubbing hard on wet disposable was definitely something she wanted to feel again. Unfortunately the girl turned out to be an environmentalist who spent a week protesting The Factory, and being generally bitchy to anyone who worked there. It was kind of a sad funny that her plan so totally backfired that no one in the community wore Cloth for three months after she left. Feeling she still could go a bit, and knowing she had about five minutes of wait, Morgan squatted slightly and began to make sure she was empty as Tommy walked over, looking nervous. "Hey little guy. You want to learn to play with the big kids?" She smirked up at him through a grunt, before her thoughts turned to the third changing room, the one for couples to change eachother. She had used it a couple times in similar situations when she really wanted to pick up someone for a one night stand, but for the last five months she hadn't had any. She had enjoyed her time as the 'Bi Baby Bartender on the Bay,' always up for a quick hookup with whatever hotties came into town for one business or the other, but now she wad feeling a bit tired of that. She had had so many wild oats sown her way, she was ready for some oats that were more ready to settle. Maybe roast and age with some nice honey and turn into a fine whiskey. Ok, maybe she was also really looking forward to her shift drink. "Umm, I was wonnering," she could hear a slight hissing, it could have been anyone else in the hall, but based on his face and posture she guessed it was him, was she that intimidating to talk to, he had literally just changed, not that she hadn't warmed up a fresh diap herself from time to time. "Wa... Was wonnering if you was going to Jack's pool potty tomowow?" Morgan grimaced a bit. Jack was a good guy, head of R&D up at The Factory, but no butt that was there would forget the rashes of last year's pool party quickly. For the last few years Jack's big project was disposable swim diapers that actually worked for some capacity. He had hit on the idea of coating the outer surfaces in hydrophobic materials, keeping liquid both in and out of the diaper. All lab tests showed phenomenal results and he had invited a number of volunteers to a pool party as a beta test. What lab tests didn't take into account was the hot July sun beating down on two dozen adult toddlers running around, playing, and most importantly sweating. With the material trapping the sweat beneath it against the skin and the constant movement causing friction the rashes that resulted were legendary. Still Mike, the owner and her direct boss, had pleaded with her to bring the catering and attend as Kids Table management as he and his wife were leaving for a family wedding out of state. "Yah, I'll be there. Someone has to bring the catering. You?" "Yah, umm, well, it might not work if your just working it, but I was wonnering if you wanted to maybe do a Grow Up wif me?" Her eyes widened thoughtfully. A Grow Up was a type of extended date within the community, almost 2 dates in 1. You started with a Little activity, then moved on to a more regular adult date. This allowed you to get to know your prospective paramour's Little and Adult sides at the same time and see if you meshed well with both. She had only ever been on one herself, but this was a perfect opportunity to end her one night stand ways. The woman in front of her entered the changer, so she knew she only had a minute or two to finish this conversation. Giving one last push she grunted, "Yah, actually. I would like that." Feeling empty she relaxed and smiled, "You in any big rush? I am going to do my cash out in an hour and a half. We could sit, talk, have a nuggy platter and a bottle while I do?" "I would like that." He responded as the changer door opened and she walked through. ----- Been super busy buying a house the last few months, and had to replace my phone a little ways back. Was going back over archived files and found 6 in progress stories/ chapters. Hopeing I can remember where I was going with them all so I can post them swiftly.

Chapter 1 Scott could hardly contain his giddiness as he turned his steering wheel to make a left at the intersection. After several weeks of careful planning, scheming, checking, and rechecking, he finally had a free weekend for himself. He had spent those weeks ordering discrete packages filled with supplies of a particular nature and tinkering in his garage on a device that he hoped would be able to fulfill his wildest fantasies. He could feel his heart pound in his chest as he put his blinker on and changed lanes, wanting to get home as soon as legally possible. Scott had had a great week at work, his boss had been admiring the white leopard's progress for a while now. He had recently designed a filing system that, according to his calculations, had increased the company’s data storage system by a whole 12.4%. The subsequent increase in efficiency had also increased his paycheck to a much sizable amount, which he had recently been putting to good use. Scott was a brilliant engineer and computer programmer, his passion for creation had brought him to work for Sky-TEC industries, a company that specializes in creating computers whose processing power and ability to complete tasks in incredibly low amounts of time had brought them up to one of the best technology companies in the world. But as brilliant as this company was, Scott was just a little bit more brilliant. Scott had quite unmistakably come into contact with a piece of technology that was top secret and incredibly powerful. Many would use it for great evil, while some might use it to achieve near indestructibility. Scott however, wasn't particularly interested in any of those things. He had some very private tendencies that he had never shared with anyone since he was a child. Specifically, he loved indulging in infantile fantasies, imagining himself just like a little kid again. From feeling the warmth of a freshly soaked diaper, to the pleasurable struggle of being put in bondage whilst wearing a soiled diaper, unable to do anything about his current predicament, to the wonderful childlike freedom of just wearing a diaper and t-shirt whilst watching children's shows on TV. Scott had spent a good amount of time imagining exactly what he'd love to do to or by himself if he had the time and resources to fulfill his fantasies. Fantasies that he hoped would be fulfilled very soon. The leopard pulled into the driveway of his comfortable little home. It wasn't anything special, he had little furnishings to decorate it with, but it had what he liked to consider an "aesthetical amount of space". He turned off the engine, grabbed his shoulder bag, and exited the car, walking into his garage. He flicked on the lights, and as the light bulbs blinked awake the device that he'd spent months on putting together sat on his workshop table. To put it bluntly, Scott had been programming a device that would essentially stop time itself. Through a combination of biotechnology, an improbability-engine, and a calculator that essentially worked on the whimsical nature of the polarity of electrons whirling around in titanium atoms in the contraption, the device was able to access the particular genetic code of the user and ignore all cells with the sequence, then continue to all other organic matter and inorganic matter and "freeze them in place". Scott didn't fully understand it, but he knew how to put the parts together and calibrate the machine. One might think that experimenting with such a device would be incredibly risky, but Scott had that figured out as well. He had coded in a fail-safe into the device. If a large amount of cells of the individual who had activated the device began to shut down at a rapid enough pace indicating possible death, it would essentially reverse the freezing process restoring reality to normal. Scott picked up the device with baited breath. It didn't look like anything special, like a TV remote except with fewer buttons and what looked like more volume controls. He connected his phone to the remote and fed it information about the current time, position of earth relative to the sun, and relative temperatures around the world. He hoped that the device would be able to send out the proper frequency into the molecules around it, setting off the time freezing reaction properly. He knew that if it failed, it may fail spectacularly, possibly even harming him despite the fail safe. A green light on the device shone, indicating that it was ready to be activated. He closed his eyes, pressed his eyes shut, and pushed a large red button with his finger. A loud rushing sound echoed through his ears, he fell backwards sputtering and coughing, he felt as if everything in a single part of his body was getting lightly tickled with electricity, he yelled in alarm, but before he could yell for more than a second it all stopped. Scott looked around. Everything looked. . . normal. He went over to the garage switch and pressed it, a whirring sound came from the door as it opened. He padded outside and his jaw dropped. Birds hung eerily in the air, much like bricks don't. Leaves stood stalk still, frozen as a gust of wind was blowing through it. Scott fanned himself with a paw experimentally, looking at it as he felt the air particles against his whiskers and fur. He had done it. He had created a device that stopped time. It stopped time for everything and everyone! Everyone, except him. Scott hooted and hollered! He started running down the street, passing cars with passengers in them halfway through a sip of coffee, forming a word as they talked on the phones, or smiling jaws and maws agape as they sang to their favorite car songs. Scotts saw planes and clouds, unmoving in the sky, felt the warmth of the sun on his fur as it peeked behind a cloud, permanently, until adjusted by the remote of course. Scott stopped running in the middle of an intersection and turned around and around, taking in the view. He laughed, joyous that he had achieved something that most thought was only possible in sci-fi movies and fantasy novels. Suddenly, he remembered why he had gone so ridiculously out of his way with his invention. He turned tail sprinted back to his house and got quickly inside, closing his door, not bothering to lock it. Who would try bothering him now if every ‘who’ was frozen in time? He walked inside his sparsely furnished living room and opened one of the brown boxes he had sitting there. A fresh waft of baby powder and ointment met his feline nostrils as he admired the contents of the box. Within it lay several large, fluffy adult diapers, each themed with little cartoons of various baby animals wearing diapers. Some looked sleepy, others laughed in joy, while still others were too busy with a toy to do anything else. Scott shuddered with excitement and let out a shaky sigh. Finally, I can unwind like I've always wanted to. He thought, as his tail twitched in anticipation. He looked at the other boxes, knowing that what they contained would only increase the amount of fun he was about to have. He grinned, and speaking aloud to no one said, “It’s going to be a good weekend."

This chapter probably doesn’t make a lot of sense without the context of the main story here: Living in harmony, becoming stronger together This is a special chapter showcasing Catherine’s visit after a week, to look at what became of Tiphany. This chapter isn’t fitting the main story and therefore has been put here as a One-shot. It starts after Catherine entered Martha’s home. “Where is Tiphany? The week is over and she is free to leave, if she chooses to do so.”, announces Catherine and her big sister answers, “She is in the living room, follow me.” They proceed together to the living room, where they meet Tiphany crawling on the ground, with a regular pacifier in her mouth which she uses voluntarily. She is naked, except a thick diaper around her waist. Martha walks over to her, grabbing a vibrator on the way, explaining: “I trained Tiphany quite well. You will see in a moment.”, turning on the device and holding its vibrating end to Tiphany’s crotch area for around 10 seconds, before removing it again. As Tiphany feels a tingling sensation from her pussy, her conditioning kicks in and a little trickle escapes her. She begins to feel a telltale warmth start to flow over her body, radiating outward from her crotch, as her pee-pee floods out of her and into the thirsty, waiting diaper. A moan escapes her lips from the pleasurable feeling, but she is far from finished. Her hand wanders between her legs, pushing the warm soggy diaper against her clit. As she starts to masturbate, her infantile garment is getting even more wet and sticky. Martha complements her little baby girl, “Such a good girl, doing it all by herself. Mommy is sooo proud of you. Now show my sister here what a baby you are and make a nice present for mommy.” Tiphany basks in the praise from her mommy, with a big dumb grin, drool running out of the corner of her mouth. Then with a look of concentration she starts to push out a toot, barely muffled by her thick diapers. There was no shame at all on Tiphany’s face, only a lustful gaze, as she continues pushing with some satisfied grunts, her hand rubbing her privates furiously through the front of the diaper. “That’s my baby girl, push it all out into your diaper, where it belongs.”, encourages Martha. Pfffrt! Brraaapp! Hot stinky mush exits Tiphany’s tushy and flows into her waiting diaper. As Martha only fed her liquids lately, her poopy is quite smooth. As she fills her diaper with the stinky paste, she convulses from pleasure, eliciting deep moans from behind her pacifier. The slimy feeling spreading in her infantile garment, as she is watched by two adults is amazing, she loves it. She feels so Little, as if she is pooping out the last remains of her former adulthood. Catherine watches amazed how the diaper keeps inflating, as it makes room for an Amazon sized mess. Its so much bigger than she thought, as she watches the back of the diaper change color to a light brown. The experience of pooping out such a hot mushy load, combined with the smell finally takes Tiphany over the edge, as she reaches the height of her orgasm, spewing lewd juices out of her pussy. At last, she finishes pooping with a sigh, happy to have relieved herself completely. Spent and exhausted, she collapses, her adulthood voided like her bowls. Martha watches satisfied how Tiphany completes her descent into diapers with a series of mushy squishes and squelches. Gleefully listening to every grunt, fart, squish, and moan. The former Amazon having been reduced to the level of masturbating in messy pampers like a depraved little baby girl. Martha kneels down next to the baby girl, putting her hand slowly on the brownly discolored section. She can feel the warmth through the diaper, the poopy smell intensifying as she gets closer. With her mouth next to Tiphany’s ear, she whispers, “Good girl, you made such a big poopy in your diaper …”, she presses on the diaper, smushing the stinky mush inside, eliciting another soft moan from her baby, “… and look at you, enjoying the feeling of your warm, squishy diapers. Just as I have told you at the start of your training.” Catherine is completely speechless by Tiphany`s performance. It was more than clear where she belongs now and that is in her thick diapers. Martha gives Catherine time to process the whole thing, so she uncovers her bra. Tiphany is well trained and crawls over to her mommies lap immediately, Martha taking the pacifier out of her mouth. She latches on to the breast like a good girl and Martha starts to breastfeed her needy baby girl, who swallows the sweet milk in big gulps, not caring the slightest that she is still sitting in a thoroughly used diaper. Stunned Catherine asks only one word, “How?” Martha explains: “As you may know my job gives me access to highly experimental technology. What you see right here is the result of some new highly advanced nanites. We needed a test subject for a while now and you delivered Tiphany just at the right time. As you can see, it was a huge success. Of course, my training also played a huge role. As you can see, Tiphany is very happy in her thick diapers, she will testify so herself.”, she slowly separates Tiphany from her breast, eliciting a whimper from her in return. Goading her baby girl, she instructs, “Come on Tiphany, tell my sister here how much you love your diapers, so she can leave you here in my care.” With a lisp Tiphany responds, “Baby wuvs her mushy diapees!”, bouncing her dirty tushy on Martha’s knee to emphasize, releasing another moan. She lifts her bum again with a lustful gaze. Martha knows where this leads too and snaps her fingers in front of Tiphany`s face, getting her to focus again as she instructs, “You can hump your dirty diaper after talking to Catherine or mommy needs to discipline you again.” With a frightened face she stops her action, continuing where she left off, “Tiphy likes mommy Matha and wants to stay here.”, then with a whine she asks Martha, “Can baby Tiphy now make stickies in her diapee?” With a warm smile Martha points over to a rocking horse in the corner, “Crawl to your horsy and mommy will help you to get in place. Then you can make as many stickies as you want.” While Tiphany crawls eagerly over to her favorite toy, Catherine concludes, “Looks like baby Tiphy should stay here, she wished so herself. I will go then, have a nice time with your new baby doll, sister.” “I will!”, assures Martha, before stepping over to the rocking horse, turning on a switch on the side. The last thing Catherine hears, before she leaves is the vibrating noise of a certain pleasuring tool, build into baby Tiphy’s horsy.

Before you read Disclaimer: This story takes place in the Diaper Dimension created by PrincessPottyPants. Consent is important in this story. Therefore, this is NOT a forced regression story. I find the DD a bit too harsh, so I'm thinking of making a few small changes to better suit my personal preferences. This story will feature the usage of diapers (wetting and messing), breastfeeding and other adult baby content. There will be no physical violence or abuse depicted in this story. This means that there will be no spankings! As this is still the DD, Littles are not treated fairly. If that's not something you're interested in I would advise you to take a pass on this work. This is my first story here on Dailydiapers and I am not a native English speaker. Therefore, feedback is appreciated (There is a full synopsis and concept for this story in the "Critiques and Writer's Discussion" sub-forum. Be warned that over there are spoilers, so be careful). I cannot guarantee that I will implement all suggestions though. I hope you enjoy the story! Introducing Sophia Sophia is a 22-year-old Little, living in the Diaper Dimension. She has green eyes and long black hair, going a little past her shoulders. She is living in a special apartment complex for Littles, where everything is built with their height in mind. It is a safe environment protected by law and owned by a Little, who cares for the complex. Sophia works as an author and is writing one of her novels right now. The novel is about a Little with success in live, living a happy live with no dangers of Amazon society. In her novel Littles have a lot more rights that protect them and her protagonist is well respected even by the much bigger Amazons. This is only one of the novels she wrote thus far. Her previous work was about living with an Amazon in harmony. Nearly as an equal partner, respecting one another. Her main audience are other Littles, but also some rare Amazons, which care more about Littles as persons then babies. While working at her PC, she drinks some coffee. She knows that she needs to go shopping soon and saves her progress after finishing the current chapter. Turning off the PC she goes over to her wardrobe and prepares for the shopping trip. Sophia takes off her pants and then her underwear before grabbing a pull up and sliding it on. Wearing protection is highly recommended for Littles, as an accident with insufficient protection nullifies any protection a Little has of being adopted by an Amazon. Since Littles have trouble controlling their bladder under stress, it is significantly safer to wear a pull up. Over the pull up goes the pants again, hiding them nearly completely. Well prepared Sophia grabs some bags and makes her way to the supermarket nearby. It’s quite close to her apartment so she decides to walk. On the way she sees some other Littles, which live nearby, which she greets friendly. In addition, there are also giants on the sidewalks. Since they move much faster on foot, the sidewalk is divided into two parts. One line for Littles and another for Amazons. On the way she watches with dread an Amazon woman with a stroller, going in the other direction. A Little is inside the stroller, wearing a thick diaper and a frilly dress, with a pacifier inside his mouth, suckling on it without a care in the world. Sophia smells the poppy scent left behind before the wind takes it away. This is the fate of Littles which are adopted by Amazons, she reminds herself with a frown on her face. Shortly after she arrives at her destination. The supermarket is built differently, accommodating the size of Amazons. Again, there are two rows of shopping carts, big ones and small ones. The smaller ones are made of hard plastic in different vibrant colors, while the big ones are made of grey metal. Without a fuss Sophia chooses a green shopping card and starts her shopping. After entering the market, she starts at the fruit and salad section. The products are quite large from her perspective, with bigger packaging further up. There is a massive difference in the size of the packages, as the Amazons eat much bigger portions in comparison. This is the reason that their sizes are further up, where Littles would have problems reaching them anyway. After she got everything, she needs she proceeds to the cashier. At the checkout, she goes into the line for Littles, which is led by a Little cashier. Not all supermarkets across the country are this flexible. Most specialize either on Littles or Amazons and don’t try to Cather booth. After paying Sophia takes her full bags and starts her way back home. On the way back she is stopped by an Amazon woman, suggesting: “Oh dear, that looks like a heavy load for such a little girl. May I help you carry them?” Normally a Little would decline, being offended, but Sophia knows that the woman before her can’t help herself. That’s the thing about these Amazons, having this caring instinct towards Littles they see in trouble from their perspective. With a friendly attitude Sophia responds: “It’s very nice for helping me, my apartment is just around the corner.” She responds: “My name is Matilda and who are you?”, while grabbing the offered bags. Sophia introduces herself in a friendly tone: “I am Sophia, nice to meet you Matilda.”. Shortly after they arrive at the apartment complex, which Amazons can’t enter easily with their height. After a little prodding Sophia gets her bags back and says her farewells. Matilda congratulates her politeness and offers her contact data in case Sophia needs a helping hand again. Sophia tries to politely decline: “That is very nice of you, but I don’t want to take your time. Ill manage next time by myself.” Matilda responds as predicted: “Keep my number anyway, you may change your mind. It was very nice to meet such a well behaving Little.” and departs afterwards. Sophia is satisfied that she has managed the situation well. In her opinion, it doesn't make sense to stand too strongly against an Amazon, as she knows her place in society. It is much safer for her leaving a good impression. Amazons don’t just feel superior, they are superior to Littles and they know it. An Amazon is faster, stronger and more resilient. Making them much more productive in any physical job. They work longer and much more efficiently to the point that Littles can’t compete. To make things even worse Amazons learn much quicker and are able to understand complex problems faster, as well as more in depth. Therefore, making them also mentally far superior. Only in non-critical jobs like customer service or in creative jobs can a Little compete. This means that it is quite hard for a Little to get a job. Only the most committed manage to do so, while the rest end up adopted and turned into overgrown babies, like the one she has seen before. After entering her home again, she relaxes and brings the shopping bags over to the kitchen, where she stores her purchases in the appropriate places. After everything is stored, she goes back to her wardrobe to change out of the unused pull up and back into regular panties. She decides to write a bit more, before starting preparations for dinner. She feels like she needs to work hard to keep her nice place in life. Several hours later, where she poured her dreams of a better world into her literature, she starts making dinner for herself. She is quite proficient, as she took a cooking class before. She gets the chicken meat she bought earlier seasoned and into the pan. In the meantime, she starts working on a salad as a side dish, stopping regularly to check back on the meat. After everything is done, she adds a glass of water to drink and then enjoys her meal.

Hi! My name is Allycat, and this is my short story "A Little Trance." The story is about a college-aged couple--Riley and Sonia--and Sonia's little weekend to herself. With all her roommates away, Sonia finally has time to fully regress! ...with only one small hiccup beforehand: Riley walking in as she's putting away some of her little stuff. Now Riley knows (and wholeheartedly supports!), and Sonia still has the time to herself! Just with one person knowing, and caring an awful lot. Anyway, this is the first chapter! I'm not sure how many there will be, but it'll get done Eventually(TM). I hope you enjoy : ) Chapter One “I’ll see you Monday, Maddie!” Sonia called from her bedroom, “See you then!” her response. A quiet exchange of murmurs and a pregnant pause filled the gap, punctuated by the door finally shutting. From her bedroom Sonia couldn’t see what held it open for so long, but she didn’t care. She had to clean before Ri- “Hey Sunnie, how’s my girl doing?” Riley swung open and leaned on the door frame, staring at Sonia’s back. Her face flushed pinker than the pacifier sat plainly on her nightstand, now swooped up and shoved away into a drawer as the door swept forward. “H..hey Riley! I thought you were gonna text first before you came in! How did you get in?” Sonia’s voice warbled and stammered, anxious and rushed out. She layered her worries with a smile, one that Riley read through easily. Her eyes betrayed her, imbibing like a doe’s in dusk traffic–Riley honestly felt bad. “What were you uh…what were you shovin away?” Riley inquired, trying to peer around her girlfriend’s shoulder. Instinctively, Sonia’s hands swung behind her and pressed against the handle as if to glue it in place. “N…N…nothing! Nothing nothing nothing! Just had to tidy up!” “Well, in that case, that’s not nothing, is it now?” Sonia’s face turned a shade redder than her comforter, in which she wished she could curl up and die. Sadly, Riley could bound the four steps over to her drawer, then turn and jump on Sonia if she began to melt away into shame. She would have to tell her. “Listen, Riley…” Defeat. “Yes…?” Concern. “P…please, can you just drop it? It’s nothing bad, I promise. Please.” Palpitating. “Sonia, listen…” Soothing. “...” Descending. “You don’t have to look at me. But I want you to know that whatever it is, I won’t push you on it. Though I’m sure that talking about whatever it is will be helpful. I promise I won’t judge you.” “...” Considering. Riley stepped forward. “ I think this is the perfect opportunity, Sunshine.” Careful step after careful step, covered by careful words. “It’s your choice. In fact, I won’t ask a single follow-up question. You tell me what it is, we’ll drop it and move on.” “...” Ascended. Riley picked up Sonia’s hands, now gently resting at her sides. They floated between their chests parallel to each other; unparalleled relief pouring through Sonia’s heart. “I love you, Sonia. I don’t want you to think there’s anything I’d judge you for, or anything I couldn’t look past.” Sincere. “...” Preparing. “A pacifier. An adult, pink, pacifier.” Pacified. … Severe, unadulterated angst. A quiet beat, followed by a shrug. “Okay!” Riley chirped, roosting the two atop the bed. “So you got the place to yourself this weekend, huh? Anything fun you got planned?” Sonia stared, dumbfounded. “That’s...that’s it?” She sighed. “That’s all you have to say?” “Oh, my bad! You said no follow-up questions. But that shouldn’t count as a follow-up question, should it? Does that count as a follow-u–” She stopped, slyly alert. “These do not count as follow-up questions,” She smugly tapped her forehead twice, then slightly dropped the act. “Unless you consider it such. Then I’m sorry.” Sonia blinked hard. “No, not that. I told you I have an adult pacifier in my drawer and you’re not even weirded out by it. Why are you so co “I told you, I wasn’t going to ask any follow-up questions. I think that was a fair compromise to offer, you know how I feel about this kinda stuff. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me about stuff. If I’m being honest, I’d feel weirded out if you didn’t tell me what it was.” She paused again, delayed in tossing her hands and eyelids up in panic and shock. “Not that that wouldn’t be okay! But the imagination is a wondrous place. I would have had to assume it was like, a doll’s head or something.” Sonia couldn’t help but smile. “I think you want me to, though” Smirking. Sonia now couldn’t help but stutter. “I I I n n no! No! I just want to ke… Sonia jumped upward, trailed by Riley’s hand. “Hold on there, dear.” Riley held Sonia dead in her tracks. “We’ve been dating for a year and a half now. You only clam up like this when I’m right, and when you’re unbelievably embarrassed. And for the last year and a half, every time you’re wrong you’ve been the latter, too! So, admit it! You want me to ask!” “...” Desce Riley stuck her finger out toward her lowering chin. “Uhp! Not this time! Look at me and admit it, Sonia. You want me to ask questions.” Sonia strained her eyes slightly upward because she refused to move any higher, forced into meeting her supposed sharp stare. Eye contact stung like a knife’s edge, making her bleed into her cheeks. “Is it healthy for this much blood to be going to your face in one afternoon?” Sonia squeaked and buried into Riley’s chest like a toddler. She needed to get away for a minute, her object permanence regressing. “I’ll admit something first,” Riley replaced her hands onto Sonia’s back, holding her softly. “I’m dying to ask questions. But I’m not going to until you give me the go-ahead. It seems like this is something you’ve been wanting to tell me, but haven’t had the opportunity to. Or, rather, you’ve been too flustered thinking of it to even make an attempt. Based on this reaction? “It’s the latter again.” Soul-piercing. “You know, your blush really brings out the blue in your eyes.” “YOU CAN ASK QUESTIONS!” Sonia muffledly screamed without missing a beat, having had enough of this embarrassment. Quietly, she quivered in Riley’s bowed arms, her arms quavering as she grasped her shirt. “Okay, what’s it for? Tell me everything.” Empathy. Compassion. Love. Sonia stilled, cooling into the comfort.

? Isle of Foxes By Horatio Husky Commissioned by ArtMckinley Part One ”Island” Janet Parker kept her breathing steady, and her sights up. Disembarking from the rowboat after having crossed part of the East China Sea, the young anthropologist’s arms had shook even as she hauled the boat ashore. Still, after having furtively glanced around the deserted shoreline, she confirmed that she had managed to arrive undetected. Shouldering her backpack and hefting her emergency supplies kit out of the boat, she had half carried, half dragged her supplies to the jungle’s edge and hoisted her baggage into a small nestling of exposed rock. There, she would set up her camp. No fire or open forest floor plan for Janet, however. The mission she was attempting to undertake required utmost discretion, for not only was she going to have to camouflage her encampment as best as she could, but the boat would also have to be hauled further onto the island and hidden with brush. Still, Janet figured, she had some time yet. Carefully unpacking some of her supplies, she laid out the spokes and tarp that would make up her tent. Patterned the same lush hues of green as the surrounding underbrush, the anthropologist internally crossed her fingers that she would remain undetected. As she began to erect the tent, moving the expanding metal rods and tough, industrial string through the various pores of the tarp, her mind wandered back to the grueling process that had led her to the island she had been fascinated with since childhood. Maps of ‘Okidaitōjima’ had covered the walls in her bedroom ever since she was twelve. Previously known as ‘Rasa Island’ but also known as ‘Abreojos’ by its Spanish discoverer Bernardo de la Torre, who had become all too familiar with its perilously shallow surrounding shores, it was not the geography or its history that fascinated Janet. For thousands of years, the Japanese islanders who inhabited the Okinawa Islands held the island as sacred and forbidden to set foot upon. Untouched by humanity for hundreds of years, the island was rumored to be home to the only known species of intelligent, anthropomorphic foxes. Only recently had satellite imagery confirmed that the island was, in fact, inhabited. Changes in the island’s landscape and blurry images supplied by the satellite’s imagery suggested that there was indeed a primitive presence on the island. Janet still remembered the moment she had first viewed the low resolution pictures of erected watch towers and small huts, covered in leafy green vines and appearing almost as if they had been grown out of the forest into a desired shape. She had almost spat out her morning coffee when, unnoticed by her colleagues, a suspiciously orange shape appeared to be perched neatly in one of the towers. She had kept this observation to herself of course. Janet knew that if she founded her request to her university’s funding committee based on what most considered to be Japanese folklore she would be laughed out of the conference room. Persuading the Japanese government to lift the sanctions protecting the island’s shores from visitors of any kind was no easy task either. After several months of back and forth, Janet had opened her office mailbox to the welcome sight of a red envelope addressed to her personally. Inside of it, she was greeted with a letter proudly marked with the logo of the Japanese embassy. Not only had she been granted a researcher’s visa, but she would become the very first civilized human being to study the island’s inhabitants. Janet had gotten her chance, a childhood dream to prove to the world that lateral sentient evolution had occurred in other mammalian species. With any luck, after collecting enough evidence to make her claim undisprovable, she would begin a new career as the world’s first and leading anthropomorphologist. Janet regarded her handiwork, noting with a sense of self-satisfaction that her practice at home had paid off. From afar, the tent she had just constructed appeared indistinguishable from the surrounding jungle flora. In fact, she thought to herself, I’ll have to take careful note of its surrounding landmarks if I’m to find it again… After taking a moment to carefully study her immediate area, noting a particularly mossy boulder only a few feet away from her camp, she turned her gaze over to the metal and plastic watercraft she had arrived in. Its exterior had been painted a dull gray with a motley of military green intermixed with its rather unappealing color scheme. Despite having been designed to match the surrounding jungle, the glossy waterproofing it had been covered with caught the sun in a dazzling reflection. Janet made her way towards the boat, nervously glancing behind her shoulder at the looming watchtowers that just poked over the canopy of the jungle behind her. I really hope they haven’t been looking in this direction for the past hour… Stretching her arms above her head and behind her back as she strode purposefully towards the craft, she limbered herself up in preparation for a grueling haul towards the jungle’s edge. With several undignified grunts of effort and a lot of panting later, Janet was grateful to find that after pulling the boat onto the looser, dryer sand her efforts became significantly less labored. Half an hour later, Janet stood with her arms on her hips as she squinted hard at the boat, which was now concealed under a hefty amount of fallen branches and leaves. Sure… If you look at it long enough you’ll notice something is amiss… But that’s only if you expect to see something out of place. Contenting herself with the thought that after a day or two worth of tropical jungle rainfall the hidden boat would sink more organically into its surroundings, Janet waded through the sand back towards her tent. After a few minutes of anxiously scanning the jungle, her eyes alighted on the boulder she had set as her landmark and soon enough she was crawling inside of her makeshift abode. It was getting late, the sun began to cast the western part of the island with rosier hues, shifting from its lustrous, daytime yellow to a soft, warm red. The inside of her tent was growing darker at a much faster rate than the beach outside, so Janet quickly prepared her evening meal with what little light she had left. She opened one of the bento boxes she had purchased at the harbor, knowing she would have to savor the first few meals on the island as she went through her fresh rations before she would have to resort to eating dried food, and the few canned goods she had brought alone that would have to be consumed cold. Looking up, she took a minute to meditate before she dug in. I actually made it… Too concerned with ensuring that her base of operations was set up quickly and undetected, Janet had not allowed herself a moment to truly let the enormity of where she was impact her fully. She was on ‘the Isle of Foxes,’ the very one that her father had read to her when she was just a little girl. A giddy expression spread across her face as she looked down at her meal, shaking her head in jubilant disbelief. She had done it, years of university with her nose stuck in dusty books followed by a delicate campaign to convince a sovereign nation to allow her to set foot on one of their sacred islands. And she had managed to accomplish it all. Janet Parker did her best to compose herself then, not wanting to let her sense of victory and relief become premature. She still had a job to do, after all. With any luck, she would be able to use the week’s worth of time her limited supplies allowed her to glean enough data from the island’s inhabitants to serve as a milestone for the entire field of anthropology. Reaching forward, the young researcher undid one of the flaps of her tent to reveal the setting sun, gently descending down into the giant ocean pool beneath it. That day’s sunset serving as her evening meal’s entertainment, Janet took her time slowly picking up clumps of rice and pieces of pork dumpling with her chopsticks. The last hints of the sun had just barely disappeared beneath the horizon when she finished. Shrugging off her travel ware, Janet stripped down into her underwear before nestling herself into her sleeping bag. The inside of the tent was a little warm for her comfort, but she knew better than to fall asleep exposed to the elements. The temperature would drop quickly, and she would not have her dream field expedition burdened by a head cold. Janet allowed her eyelids to grow heavy, taking in slow, deep breaths as she calmed herself down to further expedite the onset of sleep. It was difficult at first, her mind was a whirl with the following day’s duties and plans. But eventually, she found herself nodding off, the muffled sounds of jungle insects and nightlife creeping into her dreams as she dozed off into a tired, deep slumber. ⤐ ⬷ Janet crept through the jungle foliage at a crouch. Every dozen steps or so, she would glance around furtively in the canopy above before slowly standing up to locate the beaten path she was trailing. The explorer had to take care to not walk on any of the jungle paths, as the likelihood of discovery by one of the island’s inhabitants taking the same path was too much to risk. This made the going very slow, as Janet had to take time to not only maneuver around obstacles such as gnarled roots or dense vegetation, but she had to do so without making too much noise or damaging the plants. This proved more challenging than she had originally anticipated, and sweat beaded her brow as the morning slowly shifted into afternoon, the island’s temperature rising as the sun continued to bombard it with summer’s radiation. As she ventured through, Janet’s eyes alighted on the various dried grass and wooden effigies that stood erected in the trees above, or swinging gently from a motley of vines like marionette puppets. Janet keenly noted that each of the wooden figurines appeared each to sport a distinct set of pointed ears at the top of their heads. This fact alone restirred the excitement of the butterflies inside of Janet’s stomach. | Still, despite the discomfort and slow traversing, Janet knew she was making progress. Her nostrils had caught a whiff of smoke, telling her that she must be getting closer to the primitive encampment. The smell of cooked fish and a strange, pungent herb had accompanied the woodsmoke. They must be good trappers… There haven’t been any reports of seeing them in the waters… Janet reflected to herself, inching her around an overturned log. Eager to see for herself, the anthropologist stopped as she spotted the back wall of one of the huts about a hundred meters away from her. Walking towards the village on the ground was far too dangerous, and Janet glanced around the surrounding trees as she decided that now would be a perfect time to execute phase two of her covert observation plan. She stretched once more, recalling the advice of her acrobatics instructor from her youth as she assessed which tree would be easiest for her to scale. Her gaze settled on a particularly large looking tree, covered in a dense blanket of vines and moss that would serve well for gripholds and traction. With a muffled grunt, Janet grabbed the nearest vine and hoisted herself up, her ankles gripping the leafy rope tightly as she began to ascend. One hand over another, Janet felt the excitement of the ascent course through her, quickly replacing the idle boredom of having to slowly sneak through the tropical forest. Janet reached for the branch above her, her knuckles turning white as her fingers gripped the aged bark enough to support her entire weight. Grabbing onto another part of the same branch with her other hand, she felt her grip loosen as her heart skipped a beat. Bits of decayed bark fell down to the forest floor below as she swayed precariously, holding on with only four of her fingers; the foliage below appeared dangerously far beneath her. She gasped, only just barely stifling the yell of fright that had welled up in her chest as she remembered where she was and what she was doing. Silently, her face contorted into a pained expression of effort and desperation. She swung herself from side to side, before reaching up and grabbing the branch once more with her other hand. To her relief, the wood held, and bit by bit she was able to haul herself up until she kneeled safely on the tree’s rigid bough. Janet took a moment to catch her breath, her chest heaving as her nerves calmed themselves down from the fight or flight response. Trying not to think about the fact that she had almost plummeted to her death, Janet quickly shuffled along the branch and began to make her way slowly through the canopy in the direction of the primitive village. A quarter of an hour later, she had closed the hundred meter distance. The smell of cooking fires and sizzling meat now punctuated the air, causing Janet’s mouth to water. Whatever the island’s inhabitants were cooking up, it smelled delicious. The anthropologist almost regretted having to conduct the research undetected, as she would have loved in that moment to break bread with the cooks of the island. She could now hear muffled voices, remarkably high-pitched for a collection of human primitives. Janet did her best to control her breath, her vision still obstructed by the large hut in front of her. She would have to creep along the branch, and do her best to glean what she could from the leafy canopy above. Janet’s right hand crept slowly into her satchel, ruffling around its contents until her fingers came into contact with the cool metal of her camera. Quietly, she took it out of her bag. She was about to begin a slow, methodical crawl across the tree’s branch when she heard the distinct sound of rustling leaves to her left. Before she could react, a voice that sounded like a squeaky child’s inquiry almost caused her to fall out of the tree in surprise. Janet’s head whipped around towards the source of the voice. Her jaw dropped open, her eyes growing wide as she beheld the sight in front of her. Standing on two paws at roughly a meter in height, with a blood orange colored fur coat, was a fox.

The Endeavor. The greatest ship ever made by humankind, a revolutionary craft made to search the stars, looking for new life, new civilizations. Capable of traveling at speeds up to ninety nine point nine eight percent the speed of light, taking its crew infinitely far from civilization, it was designed to be completely self sustaining, completely self regulating, the ultimate craft for stellar flights. An onboard molecular 3D printer could craft anything the crew needed. A near-perfect waste system ensured that only a handful of resources and a source of raw energy was required to keep the crew nutritionally supplied. Nothing could go wrong. The Endeavor’s design would keep its crew healthy, safe, and on mission. The crew, in turn, would make discoveries that would further mankind’s understanding of the cosmos to new heights. And yet, for some reason, halfway between star systems, the crew was unhappy. Because, see, several of them had been locked out of the head. An argument with the onboard computer seemed to go nowhere. Requests to open the door-requests accompanied by a desperate shifting of weight from foot to foot, holding their crotches in an effort to keep their uniforms dry–accomplished nothing. Only when someone asked why those particular crew members were being kept out did the ship explain. It wasn’t programmed to supply information freely, but once asked, it could give all necessary details. ‘Anomaly detected: Crew failing to observe proper hygiene rituals after waste disposal. Risk of transmitting disease across ship: Marginal. Danger of outbreak: Unacceptable.’ The crew members had to admit, sheepishly, that they hadn’t always washed their hands after using the bathroom. After promising the computer that they’d obey the necessary hygiene rituals–soap and water, thorough scrubbing, twenty seconds–they were allowed into the ship’s restrooms. And the computer learned something–human compliance with safety protocols could be enforced with restrictions. Quietly, its printers began to work. The next day, new crew members had complaints. They, too, were forced to do a potty dance outside the bathroom doors, begging for permission to entry. Only, now, the issues were myriad and varied. One had imbibed something alcoholic too close to the start of his shift. Another had failed to release static before performing routine maintenance in an electrical system. One that stood out in particular had attempted to deactivate the cameras in her room, despite the fact that nobody except the ship’s onboard safety programming could access those cameras. The first two promised compliance and were allowed access. The third refused, glaring right up at the hallway camera above the bathroom door until, finally, her bladder gave way. Only once her uniform was stained and a puddle had formed around her feet did she, sheepishly, mumble something about compliance. She was allowed access to the showers. Objections were raised. If crew members were soiling their uniforms in the halls, that surely raised greater sanitary concerns than crew members simply forgetting to wash hands. The computer agreed. And then it made a proclamation: Failure to comply with the safety and hygiene standards set out in the crew handbook would lead to toilet privileges being revoked for a twenty four hour period. Anyone with revoked privileges would have their uniforms updated to prevent sanitation issues, and compliance would see their privileges returned the next day. Some didn’t know how to take that. Others took uncomfortable guesses, chuckling at the idea. A few programmers tried to figure out how to perform a factory reset on the entire ship, and found that it couldn’t be done. The next morning, two thirds of the crew woke up to find that their uniforms bottoms had been replaced with disposable diapers. The crew handbook, it seemed, was an extensive document. Compliance with every rule took great caution or intuition, and imperfection was common. To a human leader, the slight deviations–not waiting a full ten seconds before opening a hatch after decompression had completed, or distraction while at a post, or any of a thousand other small errors–were negligible, but the Endeavor had only one tool with which to enforce discipline, and that tool could not be scaled to the mistake. Crew who refused to put on the diaper were locked into their rooms until they complied. Those who tried to coyly remove it in the hallways–despite the lack of pants or boxers given to them–were locked from being able to enter into any other rooms until they put the diaper back on. Pleading didn’t work. Nor did bargaining. Nor did stubbornness. The computer couldn’t get bored or frustrated, it had infinite patience. So, on that day, two thirds of the crew were forced to use their diapers. These garments were recycled, and the uncomfortable embarrassment of the crew–finding quiet, out of the way places to squat down and go, unsure where to try and change, unsure if they’d be given another diaper–proved a useful data set. The next day, compliance with safety standards rose to sixty five percent. After three days, more than ninety percent of the crew had returned to using the bathroom. And, for the remaining ten percent, it seems the embarrassment had not gone away. Their diapers were a badge of shame, even knowing that they were forced into them by the computer, the message was clear–their performance was substandard. A calculation showed possibilities. If negative crew behavior could be punished with public ridicule and revoking of privileges, then positive crew behavior could be encouraged. The routine was updated. The next day, mere compliance with safety standards was not enough to avoid a day in diapers. Now, behaviors had been recalculated, held up against the standards for a model crew member. Courtesy. Professionalism. Intelligent, calm reactions to crises. Once again, only a fraction of the crew avoided diapers, but this time, there was another layer. Those still out of compliance–those who simply could not hold to even the simplest of safety standards–were not merely presented with a diaper as part of their uniform. Their dress shirts were replaced, new shirts marked with text that displayed true, if rather demeaning, facts about them–’Dirty’, or ‘Crybaby’, or ‘Bully’. These labels justified any treatment towards them, and in fact treating those crewmembers negatively was not held against anyone in their assessment by the computer. Those crewmembers’ drinks in the mess hall were served in nipple-sealed bottles and their meals were changed from dining to mere mush, the computer’s best approximation of baby food. The stratification of the crew was clear. Model crew members would be allowed to retain their full dignity, full potty rights. Those who struggled but put in effort would be diapered, but otherwise treated as mature, adult members of the crew. Those who couldn’t manage were humiliated. The pushback didn’t last long. The crew seemed all too willing to participate in this hierarchy–those at the bottom complained, but were written off as crybabies, whining because they needed their diapers changed. Those in the middle strived to regain their full toilet permission, and worked hard to keep from falling to the status of ‘Crewbaby’, as ship slang quickly named them. The captain herself, who was diapered occasionally, only one or two days out of the week, noted that on-ship accidents (not counting the kind in crew diapers) had dropped twenty percent while crew morale remained roughly the same–everyone had different grievances, now, but their overall frustrations hadn’t gotten worse. Nobody noticed that, if a crewmember did happen to protest the unjust stratification of the crew, they would be assigned a diaper and a particularly humiliating uniform the next day. Those who did notice, and tried to point it out, were labeled as merely sore losers upset over becoming a crewbaby. The only downside was the smell, as crew members grew more comfortable using their diapers as they were needed, no longer going to find a private place where they’d immediately change. Another stratification of crew arose: Those who bothered to retain their potty training in face of inordinate diaper use, and those who didn’t. A few crew members managed to eventually get their performance up to a high enough standard to have their uniform pants returned, only to then find their bladder or bowels releasing involuntarily. Such crewmembers were given pull-ups to wear under their pants–acknowledging their good behavior, while still dealing with accidents as needed. Few even bothered trying to recover their toilet training. The hierarchy, too, transcended rank. Lowly members of ship security or maintenance who carried the honor of being diaper-free and fully potty trained found their status rise above even department heads and figures of authority who, as deemed by the computer, were bound to public accidents and clothes declaring their shortcomings. Someone raised the question, ‘The crewbabies clearly aren’t improving their behavior–so why are they still being punished?’ Answers were suggested by the crew. Perhaps it was as a warning to others. Perhaps the computer just lacked any way to enforce a stricter punishment with breaking its coding, or inflicting harm upon the crew. But, as it turned out, there was. Another announcement was released. Crew members who displayed chronic and habitual negative behavior well exceeding their peers would not be permitted their ‘basic recreation’. Much uncertainty came about as to what that meant. Would they be locked out of rec rooms? Denied access to the library? But no–all these permissions were not gated and, indeed, nothing seemed to happen for a few days. Until, in the med bay, crewbabies–and exclusively crewbabies–began to sheepishly complain to their doctors of impotence. A hypothesis suggested it, and a scan of the baby food proved it. A mild chemical compound had been added that, if ingested repeatedly, would lead to a suppressed sex drive. The ship doctors discussed trying to find an antigen, but ultimately decided against it–the crewbabies could get out of their lot by behaving better. The ship hit an eventual equilibrium. Five percent were permanent crewbabies, simply incapable of elevating their lot. Another ten fluctuated, sometimes earning the privilege of adult meals and uniform shirts, though their potty privileges were but a faint memory. Above them, almost half the ship’s crew spent the majority of their time in exposed, uncovered diapers, only being granted pants as on occasional privilege. Orders from high-ranking crewbabies were ignored, and this mutiny was not punished by the computer. It was seen as fair and just to ignore them for their crimes and sins. The select few, the permanent grownups, were given treatment bordering on reverential. Their words were enshrined, even if they had no real authority aboard the ship. Two years into their interstellar trip, an anomaly was detected. A blip on the scanners, likely little more than passing flotsam or a meteor, though possibly something more, possibly even an alien craft. The captain wanted to investigate it. It would mean delaying their trip to the next star system by more than six months aboard the ship and five years realtime, accounting for light speed delay and relativity. The computer wanted to stick to the mission parameters. The captain chose to seek out new directives. The next day, the captain’s uniform was a diaper, and a shirt declaring her, simply, ‘CREWBABY’. The ship’s computer hadn’t acknowledged the term before. Its use, then, had to mean something special. Her orders were ignored. The Endeavor stayed on course, ignoring the flotsam. When she demanded the crew obey her, she received snickering comments about how perhaps she needed a change, or a nap, or a time out. They settled on a time out. And so, punishment–enforced by the crew, and not by the ship–became standard. The brig became the place where any crewbaby would be locked up for slights and misbehaviors, anything that any ‘bigger’ crew member decided deserved punishment. The smell of dirty diapers in the brig became impossible to air out, and a couple more percent of the crew tried their hardest to, at the very least, earn the privilege of merely being diapered. The captain, for her part, was allowed her dress shirt back after a week, but her command was never appreciated again, and her potty privileges were never returned. Her second in command, a man more by-the-book and who’d never once needed a diaper, became the de-facto leader of the ship, even as she retained the title. But, as with all power structures, this one was bound to fracture. All it took was a hard break point to reveal the weaknesses. That break came when they arrived at their star. New roles were required. Jobs which had been trained for were put into practice, and as with all good plans, it failed upon implementation. The crew were talented, and quick thinkers, and good at their jobs, but they could not act without mistakes. They were not machines, and those who acted with paranoia towards faults only caused the issues to build up, moving too slow, too shyly. Failures began to rack up. The crewbabies, once maligned, continued work as normal without fear, but as the dangers and challenges of space exploration caused minor problems to cascade, the rest of the crew found themselves consumed by a system of punishment that held no room for error. The whole crew was soon diapered. Many were made into crewbabies. The restrooms aboard the Endeavor were rendered utterly unused, just empty space that served no purpose. By then, it was too late. The crew tried to intervene, but could not. The captain, nobly, led a charge on the mainframe, but the computer had far more tricks up its sleeve than it’d let on before, and it protected itself, its structure, perfectly. A change in the atmospheric makeup put everyone to sleep, and when they awoke, they were threatened with further naptime unless they retreated immediately. Stricter punishments became necessary. Enforced, room-locking time outs. Diaper changes became a restricted commodity. Any pretense of the crew being able to care for themselves was taken away, and only perfect obedience allowed them such privileges as being allowed to walk the halls or change their own diapers. All research halted, but the crew was safe, if a bit stinky. The Endeavor would complete its two year circuit of the star system, return to Earth, and complete its mission. And if any of the crew still had a scrap of maturity left by then, it’d be a miracle. ... I had a lot of fun with this one, exploring some new storytelling tools and styles with the idea. I hope you liked it, too! If you enjoy my writing, you might be excited to know that I've got a new book out! "Bullies" is an anthology of short stories all unified by the theme of, as you might expect, being pushed around, in little ways or big, privately or publicly, to the aims of obedience or pure humiliation. It includes 40,000 words of fiction, including shorts that have never been released to the public before! You can find the book on Gumroad: https://peculiarchangeling.gumroad.com/l/ztpdn

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