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  1. Hello All! It's been a while since I've posted a new story, but I'm back with a project I'm very excited about! "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" is the story of Rei Akiyama, a young girl trying to navigate through life in a near future dystopia where the age of majority has been raised to 28 for girls and regressive behavioral therapy has become popular to help girls adjust to these new laws. The world this story is set in is very strongly inspired by/based on the world building of Alteredstates, so a lot of credit goes to him! For those unfamiliar with Alteredstates, he does world building through ad copy and other cultural artifacts. While you don't need to be familiar with his work to understand and appreciate this story, I strongly recommend you check it out! Not only because it will help you immerse yourself in this world, but also because it's genuinely really good! You can find him on Tumblr, Twitter, and Patreon! Without further ado, I give you the prologue and first two chapters of "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" Prologue The night of Wednesday, October 4th, 2028, was unseasonably cold in the city of Greenham; snow was in the forecast for the next day in a city that rarely saw a snowflake until at least January. By 7:28PM, there were already flurries dancing through the cold wind that whipped through the dumpsters behind City Hall, where John Bennet, the head of City Hall security, stood with his foot propping open the emergency exit of the east stairwell. He blew out a lungful of smoke as he dropped his cigarette on the pavement below and crushed it beneath his shoe. John was nothing if not a creature of habit; so much so that, if one cared to be so observant, they could predict exactly what time John would take the last smoke break of his shift before he did his final sweep of the building. He would then go home to his shabby apartment. That night, however, was different. That night, John wouldn’t be going home; he would be meeting a 28-year-old girl he had met on the internet. That night, John’s phone rang just as he was about to go back inside. He fished his phone out of his pocket, smiling when he saw his date’s name on the caller ID, and swiped his finger across the screen as he raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, baby girl,” he said, trying to sound smooth, “I can’t wait to see you.” On the other end of the phone, a young-sounding voice poured honeyed words into his ear as he turned and walked back into the building. Another night, under less distracting circumstances, John would have almost certainly noticed that the door never clicked closed behind him, but the telling silence was lost amongst the words that sent his blood pumping. In a bar a few miles away, Edward Cook was ordering a drink for a girl who looked too young to be there. The girl blushed as she slid her ID and emancipation card across the counter at the bartender’s request, brushing her blue hair behind her ear to look coyly at Edward out of the corner of her eye as she did. Edward never even noticed the girl on the other side of him, or her hand as she slipped a hard plastic card at the end of a black lanyard out of his suit jacket pocket. The card, printed with Edward’s picture and the seal of the Office of Juvenile Affairs, disappeared into the girl’s clutch purse as she quietly slipped away from the bar. She checked the time on her phone as she stepped out into the frosty night: 7:34PM. Elsewhere, the number 9 county bus was pulling over for an unscheduled stop due to a disturbance on the bus involving three young girls. The driver, Richard Lawson, broke up the altercation with the help of another passenger and removed the girls from the bus. That taken care of, an exasperated Richard reported the incident to dispatch, who noted the number 9 bus was running ten minutes behind but was resuming his route at 7:47PM. Back at the courthouse, John, having finished his final sweep of the building and found nothing out of the ordinary, put the finishing touches on his security logs for the night and leaned back in his chair, eyes sweeping over the bank of CCTV monitors that showed snapshots of the interior of the courthouse. It was, however, the clock that John was truly focused on, his eyes constantly flicking between it and the monitors. The moment those numbers turned from 7:59 to 8:00PM, John pushed himself out of his chair and jabbed his finger at the button that caused all of the monitors to wink out simultaneously. Had he waited just a minute longer, he might have seen the black garbed figures slip in from the emergency exit in the east stairwell. He could have watched as they crept up that staircase and slipped into second floor hallway. Another camera would have shown the figures slink down the hallway, past the Permits Office and the Office of Parks and Recreation. On a third camera, the figures stopped in front of a frosted glass door with Office of Juvenile Affairs printed across it in thick, black block letters. One of the figures swiped a card by the panel next to the door, the light turned from red to green, and the figures quickly disappeared through the door. Later, security logs would be pulled showing Edward Cook had accessed the office at 8:04PM; the subsequent investigation would find Cook was not guilty of any direct involvement but would still lose his position on the grounds of gross negligence. By 8:15PM, Greenham City Hall was silent and empty. At 8:17PM, the number 9 county bus blew past the empty bus stop at the far end of the City Hall parking lot. On an ordinary night, Richard would typically idle at this station for a few minutes, but he was working hard to make up for lost time. The next few stops were just as empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of night on a weekday. It was 8:34PM when the bus pulled up to the stop at Greenham Community College, where three girls and four boys boarded the bus, all of them in their late teens and early twenties. Richard Lawson wouldn’t even think to mention this to investigators later, though they likely would have made nothing of it if he had. By 8:50PM, the city of Greenham, a suburb of the nation’s capital city, was settling into its slumber. A few bars and restaurants were still pouring drinks for late night clientele, but curfew was quickly approaching and all those affected were either already home or else rushing to get there. At 8:54PM, the electric engine of the number 9 county bus was humming along through the streets of one such sleepy neighborhood, empty but for Ricard Lawson and a small handful of passengers: a young girl with black hair and tawny skin carrying a bookbag tight to her chest, two boys with their feet on the seats laughing raucously in the back of the bus, and a mother and a daughter riding together. Richard glanced up at the passengers in his rearview mirror and caught the eye of the daughter. She had bright blue eyes, a practical waterfall of golden curls, and looked to be in her early twenties. Richard smiled at the girl in the mirror; he had to admit, she was adorable in her pink shirt and plaid skirtall. She smiled back at him from behind the shield of her pacifier. The mother turned away from the book in her hand and leaned over the girl, slipping one hand up the girl’s skirtall. Richard quickly averted his gaze, suddenly feeling like he was invading their privacy. “Oh, Rebecca,” the older woman sighed quietly, but still loud enough to be heard easily on the otherwise silent bus, “your pull-up is soaked; did you even know you had to go?” The girl’s smile disappeared into her blush as she mumbled some words from behind her pacifier. The mother chuckled. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she ruffled her daughter’s hair, “we’re almost home! Then we can get you changed into your nighttime diapers and feed you a nice bottle before bed, would you like that?” She booped her daughter’s nose and sent the girl into a fit of laughter. The black-haired girl shifted in her seat across from the mother and daughter, obviously trying to avoid looking at them. She glanced at her phone, 9:52PM. Richard Lawson shifted in his seat and tried to ignore the cooing and giggling going on behind him. Little single-family homes passed by as he made his way down Ridgemont Street, and only more in sight as he turned right down Wrighton Square. The bell dinged and Richard slowly pressed the brake, bringing the bus to a stop at the corner or Wrighton and Central Lake Drive. Richard wished his passengers a good night, stay safe, as they all got off. Glancing back in his rearview mirror to confirm the bus was empty, Richard slowly accelerated into the night. Peter Grant watched the bus pull away from the front seat of his Greenham Police Department Cruiser. He scanned the passengers leaving the bus stop. Two young men cross the street and kept walking up Wrighton Square while three women started walking up Central Lake Drive and toward his cruiser. He checked his clock: 9:56, damn near too late for young women to be out alone. “Let’s check it out,” he said to his partner, Dave Clusky, as he stepped out of the cruiser and started crossing the street towards the trio. As Peter approached, the women were backlit by a streetlamp, but he could make out the vaguely feminine shapes of three women. Two of them walked side by side as the third, at least a few inches shorter than the other two, walked a couple of feet behind. Peter raised his flashlight, “Excuse me, ladies,” he called out officiously as the beam of light cut through the night, bringing the slowly drifting flakes of snow into heavy contrast. The three ladies stopped in their tracks. The shorter of the two in front whimpered behind her pacifier and clung to the older woman next to her as they both blinked against the light. The girl behind them gasped inaudibly and stared ahead like a deer in headlights for a moment before raising a hand to protect her eyes from the worst of the light. “Evening, ma’am,” Peter nodded to the older woman, “these your children?” The woman glanced behind her, then back to Peter, “just this one,” she replied, squeezing Rebecca close to her. Peter nodded, “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Best get your little one inside, it looks to be about her bedtime.” The mother laughed politely, “yes, we’ve had a very long day, thank you, officer.” She tugged on Rebecca’s hand and quietly urged the girl on. Peter swept his flashlight over a few degrees to focus his beam on the girl in the white button up shirt and plaid suspender skirt. “Could you lower your hand, miss? How old are you?” “Uhm, nineteen,” she replied nervously, “I know it’s—” “It’s almost curfew,” Peter interrupted her, “you allowed to be out past curfew?” “Um, no, sir, I—” “Yeah, didn’t think so. What’s your name? What are you doing out so late?” “Um, Rei, sir, and I’m coming home from college, sir, I was—” “College?” Dave chimed in, “you got parental permission for that?” “Yes, sir, and I—” “What were you doing at college this late?” Peter asked. “You go to Greenham CC?” “Yes, sir, I was studying—” “Studying,” Dave scoffed, “yeah, right.” “I was, sir, I have—” “You got a pass from your professor?” Peter asked. “Yes, sir, it’s—” “Well?” Dave said impatiently. “Let’s see it,” Peter demanded. “Yes, sir,” the girl reached into her backpack and produced a folded sheet of paper that was immediately snatched out of her hand. “Professor Lewis? English?” Peter read key words off the piece of paper before handing it off to Dave. Dave looked the sheet over, made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, then handed it back to Peter. “Looks legit” “You know it’s almost curfew, kid?” Peter turned back towards the girl, thrusting the paper back at her. “Yes, sorry, I was—” “Yeah, you were at college, you said. You live close by?” “Yes, sir, I—” “Where at?” “Just up the street,” she raised her hand and pointed behind Peter. “Uh huh,” Peter sounded skeptical. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 9:59PM. “Think you can get home before curfew hits, little girl?” He smiled maliciously. The girl’s knees went weak; she clutched her bag to her chest as if it could protect from him the malice in his smile. Her vision tunneled in on the face of Peter Grant and the world around her sounded like it was moving through water. Tick. 10:00PM. As curfew went into effect all over Greenham and it’s surrounding townships, the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall exploded outward, raining fire and rubble into it’s expansive parking lot. The sound of the explosion tore through the still night air, audible as a low rumbling miles away on Central Lake Drive. A portion of the horizon of the night sky lit up. “The fuck…?” Peter cursed. “Fuck me!” Dave swore. The girl let out a quiet yelp and resisted the urge to make a break for it. Silence filled the air in the aftermath of the explosion, and then the radios on Dave and Peter’s shoulders started squawking. They completely forgot about the girl as they scrambled back to their cruiser. Chapter One Snowflakes were melting in Rei Akiyama’s hair as she slumped against the front door of her house. She was still shaking and trying to steady her breath. “You’re late,” a voice said from the living room. “I know, I’m sorry, Mom,” Rei said, still panting slightly as she took her shoes off before entering the room. “The bus was running late; I ran all the way here from the bus stop.” Ms. Akiyama made a sound in her throat as she looked her daughter up and down. “You were studying? Let me see your pass.” “Yes, Mom,” Rei said as she pulled out the now slightly crumpled piece of paper out of her bag and handed it over. “You’re working too hard in school,” Ms. Akiyama said matter-of-factly. “Well, whatever, I’m glad you’re home,” she discarded the paper on the end table, “I was starting to get worried when I heard that rumbling. Did you hear that?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei nodded and chewed on her lip, unsure what else to say on the topic. “Rei, stop chewing your lip, it’s a bad nervous habit.” “Yes, Mom, sorry.” Rei forced herself to stop and instead just looked down at her shoes. “Well?” Ms. Akiyama asked expectantly a moment later. “It’s almost bedtime; shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed? The news said we were supposed to get a few inches of snow, so school will probably be cancelled tomorrow, but I want you in bed on time just in case, okay?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei replied. She tried her best not to turn and run up the stairs, but instead walked casually up them as if it had just been a normal night of studying. Her mother watched her go, sensing something was off about her daughter, but she was unable to put her finger on what, exactly, she was sensing. Rei stopped briefly at the top of the stairs, turned back, and gave a small smile and wave when she saw her mother was still watching, then disappeared around the corner. Ms. Akiyama sighed quietly: what was she going to do with that girl? She was worried what kind of ideas her school was filling her head with, and Rei being out all-night studying didn’t do anything to allay that worry. Picking up the pass Rei had given her, Ms. Akiyama turned and settled back down on the couch. According to the pass, Rei had been working on her midterm essay for English with Professor Lewis. Sighing once more, she set the note aside, making a mental note to ask Rei what she was writing her essay about (maybe that would give her a clue on exactly what kind of idea’s the school was filling Rei’s head with), and turned her attention back to the TV where a mature looking woman was smiling back at her while holding a colorful package. “That why I decided to try new Pampers Overnight Diapers! They are expertly designed for girls who wet the bed,” as the woman delivered the line, she reached her free hand out the side and pulled a young girl of about eight or ten into the frame and into a side hug, “and those who don’t,” the camera pulled out and panned over to reveal an older girl about Rei’s age staring distractedly at her phone seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, “yet,” the mother added after a beat and punctuated it with a wink. Upstairs, Rei leaned against the wall, just out of sight, focusing on getting her breathing back to normal. The night hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but, so far, nothing had gone terribly wrong. She could only hope it stayed that way. Rei pushed herself away from the wall and made her way down the hallway towards her bedroom, closing her door behind her just as downstairs the TV alerted her mother to breaking news. As Ms. Akiyama was stunned to hear of the bombing just a few miles from her, Rei was tossing her backpack on the floor next to her desk and throwing herself face down on her bed. She was slightly dazed and more than exhausted. Part of her couldn’t believe the events of the night. Yes, they had been making plans for weeks now, she had known this night was coming, but now that it was done…it felt surreal. She was terrified of what would come next. Still, there was one more thing she had to do before this night was over. Rei crept back to her bedroom door, listened carefully, then cracked the door ever so slightly. The distant sounds of the TV still drifted up the stairs and the hallway was empty. Closing the door silently, she rushed across the carpet in socked feet to her desk, which, looking back over her shoulder towards the door, she inched away from the wall. Kneeling down, Rei reached behind the desk and pried off a piece of the baseboard to reveal a small crevice between the wall and the floor from which Rei produced a cell phone at least a decade old. It was black with a silver lined screen and a numeric keyboard. Rei brought up the messaging app only to be greeted with over a dozen texts; each was from a different number, but they all said the same thing: “home safe.” She sighed with relief, painstakingly typed out her own missive (“home safe”) on the numeric keyboard and pressed send before immediately replacing the phone in its hiding place and putting everything back in order. Now, Rei thought, it was time to get ready for bed. Chapter Two “It was confirmed early this morning that there were no casualties or injuries in last night’s explosion at the Greenham City Hall, which occurred at exactly 10PM and destroyed most of the building’s eastern half. While authorities have yet to make any statements regarding the cause of the explosion, many are already speculating that this was an act of domestic terrorism committed by the radical leftist feminist group Rebel in response to recent social policy legislation restricting the rights of women under twenty-eight. Supporters of this theory have been quick to point out that the offices of the newly established Office of Juvenile Affairs, which was formed to enforce these new policies, was located in the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall. We’ll be sure to bring you all the breaking details on this story as it develops. Back to you in the studio, Steve.” As the news switched back to less interesting stories, Ms. Akiyama turned her attention away from the tablet propped up on the kitchen counter and back to the cast iron skillet in front of her where the pancakes were beginning to form bubbles along the edge of the batter. She flipped them with the kind of perfection that only came with years of practice and shook her head, it was just terrible what had happened. She knew some people thought the new laws were going too far, but surely bombing buildings was going just as far, if not further. No, it wasn’t the proper way to go about voicing dissent at all. And if this was the kind of stuff feminism was preaching these days, maybe there was some sense to these new laws. Certainly they didn’t teach girls to behave that way when she was younger. Ms. Akiyama just prayed Rei’s head wasn’t being filled with this kind of stuff at that college she had begged so hard to go to. Maybe it wasn’t too late to put her in a vocational school; with a little discipline, Rei could make an excellent secretary. Or maybe she could get Rei a job working at a daycare; Rei always liked children, and maybe tapping into Rei’s maternal instincts was just what was needed to make sure she stayed on the right path. Or, there was always… No, no, Ms. Akiyama shoved that thought away. Rei was a good kid; a bit headstrong, but a good kid, surely that option was too drastic. Ms. Akiyama sighed as she stacked the pancakes on the steadily growing pile; she just wanted Rei to be safe and have a nice, happy life. She didn’t want her daughter falling in with the wrong crowd and getting herself in trouble. It wasn’t easy raising a daughter in such complicated times. Ms. Akiyama was still musing on such matters when Rei shuffled sleepily into the kitchen, almost instinctively following the smell of pancakes. “Pancakes?” Rei asked hopefully. “Does that mean school is canceled?” Mom typically never made pancakes on weekdays. “It sure does,” Ms. Akiyama replied cheerfully, trying to hide the somber mood the news had put her in. “Have you looked outside? We got quite a lot of snow!” Rei grinned and rushed out of the kitchen and into the living room and its bay window overlooking their front yard and the street beyond. Everything was white and brilliantly bright in the morning sun, covered in what must have been at least five or six inches of snow. Even the road was covered; it seemed like the snowplows hadn’t made it to their neighborhood yet. Rei couldn’t help but stare out the window in wonderment; she had always loved the snow. There was just something magical about it. Behind her, Ms. Akiyama leaned against the door frame and grinned. When it came to snow, kids were always kids. “Come on,” Ms. Akiyama said after giving Rei a few moments to take in the wintery spread, “the pancakes are getting cold.” She turned and headed back in to the kitchen without checking to make sure Rei was following her. The news was once again talking about last night’s incident, so Ms. Akiyama quickly turned it off as she grabbed the plate of pancakes; she didn’t want to upset Rei with such terrible news first thing in the morning. “So,” Ms. Akiyama said as she set the plate of pancakes on the table and Rei settled into her seat, “you were working on an essay with your professor last night?” She grabbed the syrup from the fridge before settling into her own seat. “Um, yeah,” Rei responded simply as she loaded her plate with pancakes, “my midterm essay,” she added after a moment. “Oh, that’s nice,” Ms. Akiyama passed the syrup across the table and took a couple pancakes off the stack for herself. “What’s it about?” “Um,” Rei was drenching her pancakes in syrup, “well, it’s…well, our professor gave us some articles to choose from and we just have to like respond to one of them.” “Interesting, what kind of articles?” “Just, you know, current events stuff.” “Uh-huh, and what article did you choose?” Sure, Ms. Akiyama was testing the waters, trying to see what kind of stuff Rei was learning at school, but, to her credit, she was genuinely interested in her daughter’s life. Rei, on the other hand, was getting nervous. Her mother didn’t usually ask her this many questions about her schoolwork. Rei liked that her mother didn’t ask her about her schoolwork. Rei thought the less her mother asked about her schoolwork, the better. Why was her mother suddenly interested? She thought about lying, but if her mother asked to see the essay, she’d be caught immediately. “Well, just about…about the passing of The Hayes Act…” “Oh, I see.” Rei shoveled a too large bite of pancakes into her mouth to avoid having to respond. Oh, I see? What did that mean? Rei tried to smile around the bite of pancakes, but her eyes were searching her mother’s face for anything that might hint to her true reaction. Ms. Akiyama worked to keep her face as passive as possible, raising her cup and taking a long, slow sip of coffee to help her efforts. She had barely discussed the act with her daughter since its passage six months ago. She hadn’t needed to much, and it had always felt like such a…touchy subject. “Why did you choose that article?” Ms. Akiyama asked, trying hard to sound casual but interested and definitely non-confrontational. Just a mom interested in her daughter’s schoolwork. Rei speared a hunk of pancake with her fork and cut it away from the rest with her knife, “Um, I just thought the article was interesting,” she spoke with her head down, giving her voice a muffled quality. “What was the article about?” Ms. Akiyama knew Rei had strong feelings about The Hayes Act, and she couldn’t blame her. Rei had turned nineteen a month before the law had passed; she had been an adult for thirteen months when she once again became a child in the eyes of the law for another nine years. Of course, Ms. Akiyama understood why her daughter felt so strongly about it; she respected Rei’s passion, but she wished Rei could accept that there was nothing that could be done. She wished Rei could just accept that the world wasn’t what her mother had promised it would be she told Rei she could grow up to be whatever she wanted. “Just,” Rei shrugged, “I guess the author was talking about how it shouldn’t have passed and stuff…” The two were in a minefield; they both knew it. Neither wanted this to end in an explosion, but one couldn’t leave, and the other couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Oh,” Ms. Akiyama said, “do you talk about that kind of stuff a lot in school?” The last time they had discussed The Hayes Act had been when it had come time for Rei to enroll in her second year at Greenham Community College. With Rei then legally a child, she needed Ms. Akiyama’s permission to continue attending college. Ms. Akiyama could have stopped her; she had certainly been tempted to do it. Rei shrugged, “What do you mean ‘that kind of stuff’?” “Stuff like The Hayes Act? Politics?” “I guess, sometimes.” “What kind of stuff do they teach you about it?” Rei shrugged, “I mean, they just like…explain how it came to be. Historically, you know?” “I see.” Ms. Akiyama could sense her daughter getting…defensive? Evasive? She was certainly becoming something. Maybe it was time to pump the brakes. “I just worry,” Ms. Akiyama said, genuinely thinking it would help defuse the situation. “Worried?!” Rei said a little too loudly, “there’s nothing to worry about, Mom!” “It’s just…I hear a lot these days about what kinds of things colleges are teaching and—” “Mo-om!” “—and I don’t want them filling your head with the wrong kinds of ideas, that’s all!” “Mom, they are not…brainwashing me, okay?” “I didn’t say brainwashing, okay? I just hear what kinds of things colleges teach these days, that’s all,” Ms. Akiyama repeated. Rei slumped in her chair. Her mom had managed to ruin pancakes. “I just want you to be happy,” Ms. Akiyama said after a long, awkward pause. She reached across the table to take her daughter’s hand. “College just makes things harder for most girls these days, and, besides, you study so much, it’s not good for you.” “But I like school, Mom. It makes me happy.” “Well, why don’t we sign you up for one of those extended high school for girls programs?” Ms. Akiyama smiled, genuinely thinking it would be a good suggestion. “Ugh, Mom,” Rei withdrew her hand and shot her mother a withering look, “those are just housewife classes.” “There’s nothing wrong with that, Rei!” “I’m not saying there is,” Rei protested, “it’s just not what I want to do.” “I know, you want to be a teacher, but I just don’t…well…you can’t be a teacher for another nine years, what if by then they don’t let women be teachers anymore?” A silence fell over the room as both mother and daughter felt the weight of that thought. It was a legitimate concern. “I don’t know, Mom,” Rei said at last, sounding crestfallen. “But what am I supposed to do?” Ms. Akiyama frowned. Like most mothers, deep down she just wanted her child to be happy. Part of her really wished her child could have her dream, but most of her knew it simply wasn’t meant to be and there was nothing that could change that. Most of her just wanted to help Rei find another way to be happy. Without a word, Ms. Akiyama rose from the table and cleared their plates. Breakfast was clearly over. On her way out of the kitchen, she lightly ruffled Rei’s hair, “Go on,” she said, “enjoy your snow day, okay? But just…think about the extended high school program?” Rei nodded.
  2. Ivan watched as the girl walking in front of him on the sidewalk tripped over a crack or a rock or who knows what, and fell down, smacking her hands and knees against the cement. Ordinarily he wasn't one to just interact with strangers- him being so big and intimidating, it usually didn't work out well for anyone. This time, however, he paused. He leaned down, grabbed her hands, and helped her up to her feet. He glanced her up and down- she was a bit teary eyed, and bleeding just a bit from her knobby knees. "You should get a bandage." He said quietly. It was an attempt to show concern, but he rarely spoke with others these days, so it sounded awkward. He reached his hands out and wiped her eyes. "There's no need to cry, nothing looks broken." He glanced around at her things, noticing a school bag which had spilled out its contents on the floor. The girl looked a bit young, but she was still very obviously of college age, as she was walking by herself, and headed toward the block of dingy college apartments. He offered his hand and smiled. "Can I walk you home to make sure you don't take another tumble?"
  3. 18-year-old Benjamin has just been evicted from the college dorms after he has failed out of college for the semester. He sits in the student lounge with his bags while he figures out his next moves. His former professor Megan is talking to her faculty friend and sees him sitting alone. She is confused because he is supposed to be in her class for the semester. "Hi Ben. I missed you in my class this semester. Are you okay?"
  4. So I was wondering how the community feels about Public Messing on purpose. Does it make you happy, does it make you self-conscious, does it give you a rush, does it not affect you at all, etc.?
  5. Hey everyone! Welcome to Academy II, the final installment of Academy Works. The title is unlike previous installments, using a roman numeral instead of a letter. This is a play off Academy I, the first in the series, but it also has a few other meanings. You will quickly find that A2 is very different to the other stories! If you haven't read any Academy Works stories, there are six others in this universe. They are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), Academy K (Part 4), Academy A (Part 5), and Academy M (Part 6). Since this is the final book in the series, reading all of the previous ones will help you understand what's going on. I strongly encourage it. But if you want to jump right in on this one, I think you'll still have a good time. Thanks to all my readers and fans over the past few years. I hope this conclusion is everything you wanted it to be. You can support my work at this Patreon link, or this SubscribeStar link. ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy II will operate a bit differently than previous stories. Updates will be multiple chapters at once, with a bit of a twist. Please be patient and thoughtful with this new format. ❤️ Take it away, Soph. ---------------------------------
  6. Long time lurker. This is the first story I have written. Writing isn’t my strength, and It takes me forever to write, re-read, and rewrite. I have already written 20 chapters. I hope everyone finds this story different but interesting. This is a slow burn, but it does get into the diapers and regression. It will take a few chapters to really get into it. I can see this going for at least another 20 chapters on top of the twenty chapters already written. Chapter 1: The New Intern Avery let out a deep sigh of relief as he read the email he had just received from the biomedical technology department. He was finally being recognized for his hard work and dedication. His complex calculations and programming to demonstrate the interactions between a relatively new drug and a person's DNA had proven correct and valuable, leading to him being hired over a month ago - despite the doubt and ridicule from his colleagues. He leaned back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. On the one hand, he was elated that his efforts were beginning to be acknowledged, but on the other hand, he felt uncertain if this would lead to further respect or more challenges from those who never believed in him. A sense of pride mixed with apprehension began to stir within him, thoughts of the potential applications of this research tumbling through his mind. Ever since Avery Sage was a little boy, he has experienced problems with keeping his pants dry. Maybe it had something to do with the car accident that claimed the lives of his parents. Perhaps the foster homes he cycled through caused him stress, or maybe he would have always had this problem. All he knew for sure was that he needed to wear protection when out in public because when he got stressed, his bladder gave way. As a result, whenever he left the security of his home, he wore pull-ups, which made him feel like a little kid and dampened his confidence. His confidence wasn't helped because he was only five foot and one inch tall for a young man. These anxieties certainly didn’t help his mental health. He suffered from depression, anxiety, and insomnia. He regularly saw a psychiatrist and was on medication, but life could still be a struggle. He thought back to his first week of work. Avery graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and Biochemistry at the age of 18. A year later, he was offered an internship while working on his master's in Biochemistry and Genetics. Avery stepped through the doors of DNA Pharmacia, feeling equal parts nervousness and excitement. He had been preparing for this moment his whole life – the chance to finally earn some respect and prove all those who had doubted him wrong. Flashbacks filled his mind of all the running between foster care families he had endured; it had made his self-confidence falter, but nonetheless provided the motivation for him to finish high school years early and break free from the wings of his current foster family. Now was the time to show what he was made of. As Avery sat in the HR office, he wore his dress clothes for his first day, which was saying much– a little too large for his slim, small frame – but still managing to make him feel small and helpless against the world around him. People seemed to look through him everywhere he went as if he were invisible, yet he couldn't shake off the nagging sensation that all eyes were upon him. His shoulders sagged under the weight of defeat that shrouded his self-confidence. His wavery, untamed hair was combed back the best it could be. “Ok, Avery.” Julian, the HR representative, said. “You're done. You're officially an employee of DNA Pharmacia.” “I won’t let you down. I promise.” Avery smiled as he stood up and reached across the desk to shake Julian’s hand. Julian's expression was warm and encouraging as he shook Avery's hand. Julian was a tall, distinguished man in his late thirties, wearing a navy blue suit and a striped tie. His brown eyes twinkle with kindness, and he has a slight, friendly smirk while speaking to Avery. His handshake was firm but slightly frail, making Avery feel nervous that he had no idea if he could uphold such a promise. Doesn't everyone think that on their first day at work? Avery thought to himself. Julian just smiled back at him from his kind face, like he could read Avery's mind. “Great, I am hoping for good things from you. Shall I show you to your new desk and department?” Julian returned the smile. “Yes, please,” Avery followed Julian out of the room. They took two flights up in the elevator to a department called “Chemical DNA Sequencing Department.” and walked side-by-side down the long corridors of the main building. They passed glass panels on every wall and Avery marveled at how modern this building was. He watched sensors scanning vials of chemicals and equipment, feeding data into computers across the room. It was clear no money had been spared in making DNA a cutting-edge company. Every window they passed made him want to stop and ask what was happening; it all looked so exciting, and he couldn’t wait to start. All this made him forget that he secretly wore a pull-up underneath his clothes as protection was needed. It was down one of these corridors that Avery met an older man. The man had a strong jawline and sharp features, aged but wise. His eyes were a deep blue, crinkling at the corners when he smiled. His gray hair was neatly trimmed, and his beard was flecked with silver. He wore a crisp white shirt with black trousers and polished black shoes. He towered over Avery with an air of authority, yet his demeanor was warm and friendly. Avery recognized him from some of the interviews he had gone through to land this job. “Welcome! You must be our marvelous new intern. I am Bryan Wells, and you'll report directly to me! At your desk we have a laptop and a corporate iPhone with the works waiting there for you. From your resume and job interviews, my colleagues have noticed your peculiar knack for math and biochemistry, so we have an exciting task ahead for you! On your desk is a folder that outlines our challenge: debug a computational logic program that looks at DNA to determine designer drugs for fighting cancer. It's a riddle waiting to be solved - think you can do it? Report back any bugs as soon as possible, and we'd be grateful!” Bryan said cheerfully as he led Avery to his desk. “Yes, sir,” Avery replied. He would have agreed to do whatever Bryan needed. He was eager to impress. Bryan continued to talk to Avery. It was a one-sided conversation. Avery was too in awe of everything he was seeing to really contribute much. For him, this place was like a dream—top-level research with some of the smartest people in the world where his work could actually help people. Avery looked around the room. A long row of cubicles ran down one wall with a dozen or so scientists already hard at work on their projects. Avery's desk was tucked into the corner by an emergency exit. The light blue walls were sparse, containing only a few motivational posters and pictures of animals from Earth. Bryan led him to his chair and showed him how he could adjust it to fit him since the chair was probably to tall for him. Avery blushed a little but said nothing about it. Bryan reviewed with him how to log in to the server and the IT policies on using company-issued equipment. Bryan also went over where the relevant programs were located; he would review the folder with all the notes on the development of this program. “If you need anything, come to find me over there,” Bryan pointed to his private office. “The other scientists and engineers should be coming around to introduce themselves to you today.” “Ok, sounds good… And thank you for this opportunity,” Avery said as Bryan returned to his office. On that first day, he met a few scientists and a few engineers. They all seemed friendly enough, even though Avery didn’t have much to say. He wanted to just focus on the task at hand. He felt he had something to prove. Avery had been dealt a tough hand; growing up in the foster care system meant that he was constantly met with obstacles and negative comments. He was told time and again what he couldn’t do, but instead of accepting those limitations as his fate, he used them as motivation. Everyone’s doubts about him only strengthened his desire to prove them all wrong. The rest of the day was slow. Avery needed help concentrating on the program he had been asked to look at. Quite frankly, it was dull, and after seeing all the other scientists and engineers doing much more exciting things, Avery was keen to do something that felt more meaningful. This need to do something drew him to the thick handbook about all the research involved with this program and more. He was fascinated with it. Avery brought the program to his apartment that night. He abstained from indulging in his usual nightly video game escapades. Instead, he spent hours poring over the computational intricacies of DNA's involvement in cancerous growths, absorbed in deciphering the energy states of cancer cells. The realization that this program was an amalgamation of these complex calculations completely captivated him, particularly as he examined how the drug had to be manipulated to match the energy state of the cancer cells so that it would interact effectively with them. It was nothing less than astounding. As he delved deeper into the notes, he discovered a vexing inconsistency in one of the mathematical formulas that disrupted the programming and prevented it from reaching a conclusion on what drug was needed for treatment. Avery closed the notebook for the night, satisfied he knew what he could start looking at and he was glad to be out of the pull-up for the day. As he lay in bed, his mind kept running through what he had read. His insomnia medication meant he wasn’t awake for long, but even in sleep, it felt like his brain was searching through everything he had learned the previous day. The morning came too quickly as his alarm went off. “Ugh, I hate mornings,” Avery muttered as he hit the snooze button repeatedly. The alarm kept ringing, and every time it did, Avery reached out a hand and hit the snooze button again. It was an almost instinctive reaction to the annoying noise. His brain wasn’t clicking into gear. All he knew was that he wanted more sleep. At one point, as the alarm went, Avery pawed at the snooze button yet again but only ended up knocking his phone off the bedside table. “Oh shit,” He said as he looked up at the clock. It was 7:30 a.m. He was supposed to be at work at 8:00 a.m. His alarm had been going on and off since 6:00 a.m. this morning. Avery quickly removed his boxers and slipped on new pull-ups, light gray tan dockers, and a maroon golf shirt. He quickly wet down his hair and combed it back, knowing it would still look like a mess when his hair dried. Avery quickly left to grab the bus to work at 7:30 a.m. and hopefully be at work at 8:00 am. It was a rush, and Avery didn’t feel particularly ready, but as he walked out of the front door into the early morning air. He didn’t know how anyone could be a “morning person” when he always felt… tired. That morning, when Avery got to work, the first thing he did was get a large cup of coffee. Afterward, he sat down at his desk and began to take a look at the code. The code wasn’t easy to follow. It didn’t follow too much of a logical path in his mind. Two hours later, John Taylor, the most Sr, Engineer on the project and project lead, stopped by his desk. John was a 45-year-old engineer with a commanding presence and an ego to match. He stood at an imposing 6'2" and had a burly build that spoke of years of physical labor. Despite his advancing age, his muscles were still firm, and his torso remained taut, reflecting an unwavering commitment to physical fitness. Avery thought John's walk exuded confidence, each step resonating with a deliberate thud. His posture was impeccable, with his chest puffed out and his chin held high. He had a square jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore through any obstacle in their way. This made Avery very anxious to be around him. He was very much the opposite of Avery, who was dressed in a pair of tan dockers and a collared maroon shirt That he had quickly thrown on minutes before leaving the house. If someone were to judge Avery. They would say he dressed not to cause a stir and just wanted to blend in. The differences between the timid Avery and John, who exuded machismo and confidence, couldn’t have been starker. John wore an expensive suit that hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his chiseled physique, a testament to his attention to detail and his love of the finer things in life. “Impressive work on one of my projects, huh?” John scowled as he snatched the notebook off his desk. “I wouldn't waste your time with all the irrelevant data scribbled in here. It'll do nothing but distract you.” He flicked it to the other side of his desk like an afterthought. Avery noticed John's hazel eyes were framed by creases that spoke to years of meticulous research studies and calculations. “I tried to get a grip on it, but honestly, I stumbled over the complex calculations necessary for developing designer drugs. Despite that, I was still captivated by the work yesterday." Avery sighed, not convinced of his own abilities to do this kind of research but determine to make a difference still. “Well, just weed out the bugs and get the program working. My team and I will take care of the rest.” Johns said with a condescending smile. “If you do that, you will do good here, kid!” “It’s just….” Avery started. He wanted to prove his knowledge by suggesting a change to the handbook. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” John cut Avery off with ease. Avery felt a little put out by this overconfident man. He had been hired to be equal to all the other scientists, and yet John was acting like he was somebody hired to do data entry. He knew he could make the program run better and make the handbook better; he just needed John to listen to him. “I’m just thinking that if we…” Avery tried again. “If you have any suggestions, just write them down and slip them under my door,” John said as he started walking away without looking over his shoulder. The rest of the day went on without a hitch. A few people came by and tried to introduce themselves to him, but he kept the small talk to a minimum and just wanted to look over the program. Avery took a lot of notes that day. At the end of the day, he decided to retake the notebook home and leave the laptop at the office. He left the office at 4:30 p.m. to catch the bus at 5 p.m. If he missed the bus past 6 p.m., there wouldn't be another bus till morning. He was hungrier than normal because he skipped lunch all day to work on debugging the program. He stopped by a McDonald's and ordered a Big Mac. As he stood in line, he couldn't help but notice the Happy Meals on the counter, offering small Lego kits to children. It was a cruel marketing strategy to exploit parents and make them buy more Lego sets for their already spoiled kids. He knew this well, but it only reminded him of his own childhood, one filled with deprivation and lack of affection. He watched as the children played with their toys, ignoring the food in front of them - something he would have cherished as a child. But no, he was never allowed such frivolous things growing up; his foster parents made sure to remind him how unworthy he was of such luxuries. The memory brought back painful emotions that festered deep within him.
  7. Well, here goes nothing. I have posted on ABDL sites before but I don't think my heart was really in those stories. That has changed now, this story is one that I have put plenty of work into and I am finally ready to test it out on a real audience. I have a few chapters ready in the coming weeks but, based on how things go I hope to move to a regular schedule as I have lots of plans! Note regarding grammar, well I am terrible at it. I don't have an editor and rely mainly on re-reads and free web grammar checks so, don't judge me too bad, ha! Hope you Enjoy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The sound of a flip-flop smacking the bottom of a foot and the ground in an annoying, repetitive beat filled the car as they approached their destination. “Tara, stop that!” her mother spoke sharply. Tara leaned up from the clenched position she was in at the back of the van and pressed her foot down hard to stop the tapping. She had been holding back her bladder for the better part of the trip. The freeway separating Tara’s house from her mother’s best friend was legendary. She had been holding back the two colas she had pounded at lunch and was thankful the end was nearly in sight. “I keep telling you it's not healthy for you to keep doing this to yourself; I thought we were past this.” Diane continued. In her current condition, Tara couldn’t help but agree with her. Ever since she was little, she had issues with bathroom breaks. As a small child, she was potty trained early, but that did not stop her from constantly having accidents. Her mom always said she had her ‘head in the clouds’; she would be so focused on something that nothing else would matter… nothing. As she grew older, Tara continued to have accidents that would go up and down in frequency. When she started school, she earned the unpleasant nickname ‘Tinkle Tara’. Between accidents and a bout with bedwetting when she was 7 and 9 years old, it looked like she was doomed to it. However, for whatever reason, a switch had flipped, and it had been nearly 8 years since ‘Tinkle Tara’ was uttered. On the other hand, in the last few months, Tara has been putting her bathroom training through the ringer. Time after time, she found herself holding her bladder and aching from the effort. Whether it was at the mall, watching a movie, or sitting through classes, the urge to go was becoming more frequent and urgent each time. She had not told her mother that she almost always felt the need to go ‘right now’ whenever she had to pee. It never helped matters that her mother was a health nut and had drilled into her to keep hydrated, so she always was drinking water. It was a habit, but then again, it was only in the last few months that things started to go sideways. Now Tara was also going to be playing ‘big sister/babysitter’ to a 10 year old. Her mother and Brittany’s, had been friends since High School and now work for the same company. Both had been married and are now divorced. With lucrative jobs and a daughter, they were about as close as any family member. So when they both were chosen to go overseas to be in charge of operations in a new business move for the company, they quickly decided the plan. As Tara was 18, she would watch and take care of Britteny until the two mothers got back, which would be around the beginning of the summer. “Now remember, you have to be in charge of Brittany and keep up with your school work. Those are the two most important things,” her mother said, for about the hundredth time. “Mom, I know. I have hung out with Brittany plenty of times before,” Tara countered. “Not for this long and with this many responsibilities. Plus, Cathrine has… Well something else that you are going to have to keep track of,” her mom finished. “Oh?” the girl raised her eyebrow. “She will tell you,” her mother said giving her a look that said, this is serious. As the van pulled into the garage of Cathrine and Brittany’s home, Tara shot like a bullet out the door into the house. Catherine was blurred as she shot for the bathroom in the room she usually stayed in on the second floor. Scrambling through the door, the sight of the bathroom made Tara relax. “No!” she gasped, hurriedly tired to get the button on her shorts undone. She had relaxed too early, and now things were out of control. Finally sitting on the seat, a sharp but blissful relief crept over her. She had not realized how much and how painful this time had been. Tara knew that she should stop doing this but, for now, inspected the damage to her shorts. The whole crotch of the garment was a darker shade of blue and was a lost cause. Luckily, she had one other pair close to these that she could grab from her bag and slip into. This was only the third time this had happened, but it certainly was not something she enjoyed. Slipping into fresh clothes, she made her way back down to the living room to ‘officially’ greet Cathrine and Brittany. “Whew, sorry about that,” she greeted Catherine. “It’s alright, pretty on par for you, ha!” Cathrine jested, then her voice went low,“Follow me to the kitchen.” Her mother was talking with Brittany, and the girl was looking like she did not have much to say, so she followed Catherine. “So there is something that I have been keeping from you; I just told her mother last night,” she let out with a long breath. “Oh no, is something wrong?” Tara blurted out. “No, no, nothing serious, but… Brittany has been having some troubles. Bathroom troubles,” she responded flatly. A heat rose in Tara’s cheeks, and she simply said, “Oh…” “Now I know that you had your own issues, but I recently saw a book about accidents among older children and teenagers. I have Brittany following some rules that are designed to help her get through this phase.” Cathrine explained as she put a hardcover book on the counter. “The front of the book explains how the rules work - the ins and outs as they were. And in the back there is the list of rules and a little chart if you need it,” she went on. Tara picked up the book, and before she could utter a word, Cathrine continued, “You obviously don’t have to read it, and Brittany knows the first two rules by heart now, but you should read them and she has to follow them. Supplies are in the upstairs hall closet.” “Supplies?” the girl questioned. “Well, in a nutshell, Brittany has to use protection whenever she has accidents. The more accidents, the more protection, and the more…eh… privileges she loses.” the older woman explained. “Ah, well, I guess that makes sense.” Tara concluded. She couldn’t believe it, Brittany was in diapers! It was a shock only because there had never been a hint to her that her little friend may have had such troubles. Well, Tara herself was smaller, but not terribly so, but she was still taller by a couple of inches. Brittany had a heart shaped face, round blue eyes, and shorter brunette hair, while Tara had sandy blonde hair past her shoulders, brown eyes, and a longer face. Both had followed their mother’s genes, like matched sets. “Cathrine, we need to get to the airport,” her own mother called out. “Oh yes, coming!” she replied, and then to Tara, “Just read the rules and make sure Brittany follows them, simple as it gets!” With that, she hugged Tara and made her way to the living room, where her daughter and Tara’s mother were. There were the usual tearful goodbyes, as the realization of how long it would be before they were all together again sunk in. All too soon, it was just Tara and Brittany watching TV in silence as the girls both recovered from the painful departure. Tara ordered pizza as a way of cheering them both up, and by the time the large pizza and sodas had been consumed, it was close to bedtime. She, Tara, knew it was time to broach the subject. She decided to do so in a manner that showed she trusted Brittany to know what she had to do. “Well, I guess it is time for bed, Brit,” she stated. Brittany yawned. “Yeah, I guess so.” The girl got up from the couch and made her way to the stairs. “Wait, Brittany!” she called to stop the girl. “Is there something we need to talk about? Some rules?” The younger girl froze, and she stiffened as she turned to face Tara, so she went on the offensive. “Before you say anything, it's alright. I had problems when I was around your age,” she tried to soothe Brittany. “I don’t want to follow the rules without mom,” she almost spat back at Tara. “Look, this will go smoothly if we just follow what your mom wants you to do.” Tara countered. “But… it's just… It's so embarrassing, and I want to just be normal.” Brittany pleaded, “Please don't make me do them.” It nearly broke Tara’s heart to see Brittany clinging onto a small hope that she would be out of whatever she had been enduring. “What exactly are the rules you are supposed to follow, i haven't read them yet because I want you to tell me,” Tara said. “Well, umm… you… There are five rules, and if you have any, you know. Then you start at 1 and go from there.” Brittany mumbled. “I see, and what rule are you on now?” She questioned further. “1B,” Brittany said out of the side of her mouth. “1B?” “Yeah, the first rule has three parts… some kind of like grace period before the rest of the rules, I guess.” Brittany had crossed her arms and had not looked at Tara since she started talking about the rules. “How far have you gone down the list?” Tara asked with complete curiosity. “Just two, but it was awful.” Brittany huffed. Tara was in a bind; she didn’t want to fight Brittany for weeks on end. And she didn’t want to have to deal with Brittany having accidents she could prevent. But most of all, she did want to have fun with Brittany; she really was like a little sister. The girl shouldn’t have to feel alone in this… then it hit her. It was drastic, but it just might work. “Alright, let's look at 1B,” Tara announced. Going into the kitchen, she opened the back of the book and found the page with 1A at the top. She read out, “1A - a single day-time accident will result in a pull-up for 1 day and night.” Turning the page, she also read, “1B - a single night-time accident will result in regular pull-ups for 2 days & night-time pull-ups for 2 nights.” Brittany was bright red but Tara talked fast to ease the embarrassment. “So you…” “The night before last, this is my second night. Mom let me go without during the day today because she was leaving,” the girl clarified. “Good, then we will both follow the rules going forward.” Tara stated. “Both?” Brittany asked. “Both,” she replied. “What good is that? It's still just me that will have to do any of it!” Brittany screeched. “Hold on. Did you see me dash upstairs when I got here?” Tara asked, and the girl nodded. “Well, I didn't quite make it, and my shorts got a bit wet. So I guess that puts me on 1A, right?” she said, matter of fact. “You're lying,” Brittany huffed, but Tara was prepared for this. A quick trip to her room and her shorts from earlier presented to Brittany were all the evidence she needed. “Whoa!” Brittany exclaimed. “Told you, so we will both be in pull-ups tonight. Your mom gave you a break, so we will just go with the pull-ups tonight. And if we are both dry in the morning, this all resets, right?” She asked cheerily. “Yeah, but… but… “ Brittany couldn’t come up with an argument. “Now come on, we are still about the same size; let's see if they fit and we can get off to bed.” Tara led the dumbstruck girl up the stairs and to the closet. It was packed with white boxes, each labeled in the upper corner. The shelf at chest height had two opened boxes, one of the left read ‘Slims’. Thinking these must be the pull-ups she grabbed two, and handed one to Brittany. “Let’s both get pjs on, i will come to your room in about 10 minutes.” Tara said as she closed her door behind her. Throwing the pull-up on the bed, it suddenly hit Tara what she was about to do. It had been so long since she had worn something like that she almost felt as if it stared back at her. As if this meant more than just a means to an end. Shaking her head, she inspected the pull-up; it wasn’t any of the major brands she knew. In fact, it only had an “R” in the center of the waistband to indicate a brand. The sides were just a bit longer than the width of her hand and the padding looked fairly thin, but then it was just a pull-up. Changing into a tank top with thin shoulder straps, she placed her usual PJ pants next to the pull up on the bed. Stepping into the pull-up she began to doubt that she would fit, yet as she dragged it up to her waist, it never seemed to tighten. Standing there, 18 years old, and in a pull-up, it may as well have been fitted for her. It clung to her a bit but didn’t feel tight, and she felt the leg holes conform around her leg just below her butt, a perfect fit. She walked around and noted the extra padding and the overall ‘bulk’ she was not accustomed to as she moved. Satisfied, she pulled her PJs over the pull-up and went to see Brittany. Knocking on the door, the girl called out that she was ready. Tara was momentarily taken aback as Brittany had some small shorts and the diaper spilled out of the top and the sides. “All set?” she asked. “Yeah… I guess,” but Brittany kept glancing at Tara's PJs. Pulling the band of her pants down a bit, Tara showed the top of the pull and said, “Fitted just fine.” Tara began to giggle, and a smile reached Brittany's face as well. Soon they were laughing hard at the situation, and the tension was broken between them. “Night, Brit, see in the morning.” Tara chuckled out. “Night, Tara” was the reply as the younger girl got into bed. Back in her own room, Tara turned off the lights and got under the streets, exhausted. However, she almost immediately realized why Brittany’s shorts were so small. Being under covers, in pants, and in a pull-up was not the most comfortable thing. But tiredness eventually overtook Tara, and she drifted off.
  8. The one thing Madelyn desires most in the world is to wear diapers again, and she is prepared to do anything to make that wish come true. As inexplicable as that desire is for a twelve-year-old girl, it is one she has obsessed over for the past three years. Ever since Madelyn tried on a pull-up that a distant cousin had used for bedwetting, the thought of what it would be like to forego her underwear for that padded, crinkling sensation between her legs has been a desire she has been unable to shake. Every other plan to get her hands on diapers or pull-ups has failed up to now. But this time it is going to be different. This time it is going to work. This time she isn’t going to back out at the last minute. The plan is simple. All Madelyn has to do is intentionally begin to wet the bed at night. Then, her parents will have no choice but to get her the diapers she so badly desires. What could possibly go wrong? Chapter 1: Daydreams in Class I will not chicken out this time. That was what I had told myself two days ago. That was also what I had told myself yesterday. Third time was the charm, right? It was easy to put a bold face to my latest harebrained scheme to acquire diapers from the safety of my daydreams. It was much harder when the time came to actually carry out the plan that had been brewing in the back of my mind for the past year – one I had finally decided to put into motion this week. Why would a 12-year-old girl want to wear diapers in the first place? I don’t know. All I know is that for the past three years, nothing I have done has been successful at getting this obsession out of my head. I certainly didn’t have any interest in being a baby. My younger brother, Jackson, is only six years old. I discovered where Mom kept all his old baby stuff long ago. I’ve tried his old pacifiers, bottles, and sippy cups. None of those items held any appeal for me. I can’t stand kids’ TV shows. I can’t color to save my life. And don’t get me started on dollhouses, barbies, and whatever other toys babies like to play with. In every aspect of my life other than this strange desire for diapers, I wanted to act my age. My latest plan all started a year ago with a magazine and a desire to procrastinate on my homework. There had to be some level of irony to the fact that this latest idea came about when I was seated on the porcelain throne. Mom had almost a dozen different magazines she subscribed to. Most of them found their way to the bathroom, which was also probably the only circumstance where I would have even considered reading them in the first place. I was already finished doing my business, but leaving the bathroom meant needing to continue a homework assignment I’d been slowly picking away at for the past hour. The only reason I even bothered to pick up a copy of the Reader’s Digest on that day about a year ago was for the few sections where it had funny jokes and stories. That, and I had left my smartphone in the bedroom. I really didn’t know how my parents managed when they were my age. I skimmed through the first section of jokes. Whoever had put together this edition of the magazine had totally mailed it in. There was a completely unoriginal one about redheads and souls that had me tempted to toss the magazine in the garbage. I mean, with how many magazines Mom had, would she even miss it? Redhead jokes get old really quick when you’ve had people telling you them your whole life. It has been forever since I’d been told one I hadn’t heard before. And even longer since I’ve been told one that was actually funny. Maybe I would have better luck with the second humor section toward the back of the magazine. I flipped through the pages casually when one of the advertisements caught my eye. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing. There it was. Right on the page. An exact replicate of the pull-up I had briefly stolen from a cousin two years ago. But there was more. That pull-up from two years ago had been the boys’ designs. This ad showed that there were ones for girls as well. And even though I’d had a pretty good growth spurt in the past two years, the product info indicated that I wasn’t even close to being too big to wear them. I didn’t tuck the magazine in the trash, but I did take it with me from the bathroom, burying it deep inside my box of miscellaneous things in my bedroom. I’ve looked at that page at least once a day for the past year. “Earth to Maddy. Earth to Maddy. We’re calling in.” My head jerked upright from the hard wooden desk in my math classroom to the sound of laughter. “Here!” I called back to our math teacher. “Well, thank you for joining us again, Maddy. Now,” he said, pointing to a cluster of numbers, letters, and symbols on the whiteboard, “that we’ve isolated ‘x’ on this side of the equation. Can you tell us what it is?” I had enough trouble paying attention in classes that I liked. For ones I hated? The temptation to daydream was hard to resist. And I hated math class. It was hard enough when we were dealing with regular numbers. I would be lucky to scrape by with a “B-” on my report card. But now, with the end of the school year in sight, my math teacher had ever-so-helpfully decided to give us a sneak peek of some of the things we got to look forward to learning next year in eighth grade. I sucked at long division. But it at least made sense conceptually. The numbers were real, even if doing the work to get the answer was tedious. But now there was this thing the teacher called Algebra, where we were supposed to be adding up letters as well as numbers, which was beyond my ability to comprehend. Every “x” and “y” on the whiteboard seemed designed to taunt me. May as well put a “D” or a “C” on the board, as that was about what I could expect on my report card next year if this was what was in store for me. I stared blankly at the whiteboard with the sinking feeling that even if I had been paying attention for the past five minutes, I wouldn’t be any closer to understanding what was going on. “Um,” I said, picking at my nails while I continued to stare ahead. I had to at least give some kind of guess. But my brain and my mouth sometimes aren’t exactly in sync with one another. “The spot.” “I’m sorry. What was that?” Mr. Thompson asked. “You know, the spot. Like, ‘x’ marks the spot.” The classroom was full of laughter again. This time with me rather than at me. I made eye contact with one of my friends, Angie, who turned to look back at me from the front row. We shared a smirk at the joke. Mr. Thompson sighed. “Everyone settled down, please.” He gave me a look that suggested he might be once again telling my parents about how I had apparently been disruptive in class. “Now, Maddy, if you had been paying attention as we worked through this problem, you would know that the answer was actually…” I didn’t even manage to pay attention long enough to get to the answer to what ‘x’ happened to be or what sorcery had been used to arrive at that conclusion. I fixed my eyes on a spot on the whiteboard, a method I had mastered to trick teachers into thinking I was actually paying attention to their nonsense when I’d rather be daydreaming. My thoughts slipped back toward my plans for this evening. The third time had to be the charm, right? It wasn’t really my fault the first two attempts at wetting the bed had failed. The first night, I had simply been too tired. We’d had an exhausting soccer game that evening that had gone on to overtime, and we’d been shorthanded, so I hadn’t spent almost any time on the bench. I had fully intended to stay up past midnight but had used the excuse of being tired to back out of it. Instead, I let myself drift off to sleep without wetting the bed. During the second night, I’d managed to stay up until 1 a.m., but I had found it impossible to make myself pee. I simply hadn’t had enough to drink. I had considered simply pouring water on my bed, but I was worried that might not be convincing enough should my parents make a closer examination of my bedding. I could have snuck off for a glass of water in the kitchen and stayed up another hour, but again, I chickened out and pushed the plan off to another night. But tonight was going to be different. I was going to be drinking as much water as I could tonight, and I would skip going to the toilet before going to bed. Plus, tonight was Friday, which meant it was pizza night, so as long as I picked out a caffeinated soda, I should be able to keep myself up late enough for this plan to work. I realized that I was likely going to have to keep this up for multiple nights. One random night of bedwetting — after having never wet the bed since I had been potty trained at the age of two — wouldn’t be enough to convince my parents to take action. But if I could have the courage to keep it up long enough, they would have no choice but to purchase the pull-ups shown on the magazine page for me. I would make sure to leave that old magazine out in a way that would get Mom to see the advertisement. It was a desperate move, but I couldn’t wait any longer for the pull-ups. I knew from other advertisements I’d seen that these pull-ups were sold in stores. Had there been a store close by that I could bike to, I might have considered going out and purchasing some for myself on a day when I had been left at home on my own. But that wasn’t an option for me. I still had over three years to go before I would be old enough to get my own driver’s license. I had already waited three years for this. I couldn’t possibly wait three more. “Maddy. Earth to Maddy. Hey!” There was the sound of hands clapping together a single time. More laughter. I blinked rapidly, adjusting my gaze over to Mr. Thompson, where he was standing at the front of the classroom with his palms still pressed together from making the noise he had used to so rudely interrupt my daydreams. “Maddy, please just take one of the homework sheets and pass the rest behind you.” I looked straight ahead, where Chloe was holding a stack of papers with her arm stretched out toward me. She rolled her eyes at me as I grabbed them from her. In a rare moment of self-control, I did not stick my tongue out at her. I took one of the homework sheets and passed the remaining one behind me to where one of my two best friends was sitting. The three of us had initially been seated next to each other. But Mr. Thompson decided a few weeks into the school year that doing so was too much of a distraction. Emma, who had been seated to my right, was switched to the seat behind me. Angie, who had been on my left, had worse luck. Not only was she moved to the front of the class, but she had to sit next to Ryan, who had the disgusting habit of picking his nose in public. But that was OK. We’d have the whole weekend together. Tonight was the beginning of the playoffs for our U13 soccer team. We’d had a moderately successful season, meaning we’d managed to somehow win more games than we lost over the past several months. It was disappointing that the spring soccer season was so close to coming to an end, but we had the opportunity to keep it going this weekend if we could manage to string a few victories together. The bell rang as the final class of the week came to an end. Mr. Thompson belted out more instructions about the homework as I slid the piece of paper, with all its archaic symbols and equations, into my backpack. I’d just ask Angie and Emma later to see if there was something I’d missed in his instructions. I joined my two friends in the hallway. We all lived in the same neighborhood, so we rushed off to catch the bus together. They chatted excitedly about the game tonight, but I walked alongside them in silence. My thoughts were somewhere entirely else. My mind settled on the image of the pull-up I had held in my hand three years ago. The few minutes where I had examined it thoroughly, my fingers tracing over its whole surface. How it had felt to wear it for a couple of minutes before I was forced to set it aside, not knowing the opportunity was one I wouldn’t get again for years. Should everything go as planned, I would be wearing a pull-up again in less than a week. But to accomplish that, I needed to wet the bed tonight – on purpose. <><><> Three years ago If there was a single moment that perhaps best defined the last three years of my life, it was that day three years ago when it all began. The day I first laid eyes on a simple object that would become an obsession I would never be able to shake off. I didn’t cry at the funeral. I knew, intellectually, that this was what people were supposed to do. But even the sight of my aged great-grandfather lying in the open casket hadn’t moved me to tears. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t sad, but it was a more abstract kind of sadness. That kind that has someone thinking heavy thoughts about what happens after death, not that kind that leaves someone bawling on their knees. I had no memories of the man lying in the casket. My parents said I had met my great-grandfather three times. But I had been too young to have any memories of those visits. My older sister, Grace, on the other hand, was devastated. It was her first funeral as well. She had memories of her great-grandfather. The man in the casket was not an abstract concept to her, but the ghost of someone who had played with her and held her in his arms. Jackson cried as well, but that was just because he was a baby. You could never exactly tell what it was that they were upset about most of the time. The three-year-old boy likely just needed a nap. But the funeral home wasn’t where that pivotal event in my life transpired; it was merely marked the event that gave cause for all my distant relations – grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins – to join together from where they were all scattered across the country. The reception after the funeral was where the fateful moment occurred. The adults ate, drank, and smoked while kids split into playing games with others of their age. There was a cohort of preschoolers huddled around a TV, watching stupid kids’ shows. On the other end of the spectrum was a collection of angsty teenagers Grace had abandoned me to hang out with. They weren’t particularly welcoming of youngsters, and my normally friendly sister had shooed me off after I attempted to tag along with her. Not that I cared that much. Other than my sister, teenagers made me a bit apprehensive. Besides, there were a half-dozen other kids my age to hang out with. My mom introduced me to two boys shortly after we arrived at the house for the reception. One of them, Alex, was eight. Though he made clear he would be nine in a few weeks, which would make him as old as me. His younger brother, Timothy, was seven. The boys were distant cousins from half-way across the country. There was some technical term Mom used for exactly what type of cousin they were to me — second cousins, twice removed. That didn’t mean anything to me. All that mattered was that they were my age and more than open to finding some way to play in order to pass the time while the adults did whatever adults did. We hit it off immediately. We did what kids that age normally do. We fell into the habit of playing simple games with each other as if we had been friends all of our lives. The two brothers were staying at the house where the reception was being hosted, so it was only fair that they gave me a tour of the massive building. We explored the expansive backyard, winding our way through the adults in the garden until we were shooed away. We played in the basement for a while, which had foosball and ping-pong tables before the teens decided that was where they wanted to be hanging out instead. But there was still plenty of house to explore. Alex and Timothy led me up a winding staircase to some rooms upstairs, where they had been sleeping while their family stayed with the relatives who were hosting the reception. That’s when I stumbled across a stunning revelation. One that would shape my life for the next three years. Haunt my dreams. Hound my thoughts. Practically drive me crazy as I was often left incapable of thinking of anything else. There was something out-of-place sitting in the corner of the room on top of a pile of discarded laundry. I tended to usually say the first thing that came to mind without regard to whether it was socially appropriate to do so. I wasn’t any better at that at the age of nine. I pointed at a blue undergarment in the corner that didn’t exactly look like a normal piece of underwear. It was not as though I didn’t have a good suspicion of what it was. But I wanted confirmation. “What is that?” Timothy walked casually over to the corner and picked it up. “Oh, that’s my pull-up.” I looked at the item in his hand. He was seven. That couldn’t possibly be his. I felt sure I was the subject of some kind of joke. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “You’re too old to wear pull-ups.” “Older kids sometimes need to wear pull-ups,” he said, still holding the item in his hand. His defiance left me no less confused. I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that even fits you.” I hadn’t intended in any way to dare them to put the pull-up on. But that must be how that statement had come across. Alex snatched the pull-up out of his brother’s hand and tugged it on over his dress pants. “See,” he said. “It fits. We wear them ’cause we still wet the bed.” They were bedwetters. And they weren’t the least bit ashamed of it. That was at least a topic that I understood. I had no intention of teasing or bullying them. While neither my brother nor I were bedwetters, my older sister had wet the bed up until a year or so ago. Why hadn’t I put together a connection between pull-ups and bedwetting? Come to think of it. I wasn’t even sure if Grace had worn pull-ups during her bedwetting phase. She had her own room, which I was very much forbidden from going into, so if she had, there wasn’t any way I would have known about it. When I had first learned of my older sister’s predicament, my parents had sat down with me and calmly explained what bedwetting was and how I was to never shame or tease her about it. And given how privately they had handled her condition, and the fact that it hadn’t ever impacted my life at all, I truthfully hadn’t ever given her bedwetting much of a thought. Alex mistook my pensiveness while considering my sister’s bedwetting to mean that I was still confused about the topic. He launched into a long explanation with words like enuresis, explaining how bedwetting was just a medical condition that he and his brother would grow out of. “Do you wet the bed?” Timothy asked me. “No,” I replied. I came close to continuing my reply and accidentally outing my sister, but I would never do something that mean to her. Alex still had the pull-up around his waist, completely unconcerned with how silly it looked. The pull-up had a picture of Spiderman, my favorite superhero, on the front. I pointed that out, which led to another conversation about which Marvel superheroes we liked best. Timothy was big on Iron Man. But Alex insisted that Batman was better than any of them. My eyes kept glancing down at Alex’s waist. I found myself unable to look away from the pull-up for long. The sight of the pull-up around Alex’s waist raised another thought. That pull-up would fit me just as well. My distant cousin and I were both about the same size, after all. I didn’t question the desire to wear the pull-up. Once the impulse had taken hold of me, there was little else I could think of as I distractedly continued the conversation with my cousins. Our parents called us down for dinner. Alex ripped the pull-up off and tossed it back in the corner of the room before we retreated down the stairs. I was unable to concentrate during dinner. Alex and Timothy were across the table from me, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut about what I had just witnessed. I was filled to the brim with questions, most of which I would have to keep inside unless I were presented with another chance to have a private discussion with those two bedwetting cousins. But there was one question more important than any of them. One perhaps best answered on my own rather than by asking them. What did it feel like to wear a pull-up? While the adults were content to sit and chat around at the table long after their plates were clean, that wasn’t the case for us kids, and soon we were back to running around; Timothy, Alex, and I were joined by another four cousins. Big houses and hide and seek go hand in hand together. We agreed that hiding upstairs in the house was against the rules for the game of hide and seek. That meant that the upstairs room where the pull-ups were waiting for me was technically off-limits. But I didn’t care one bit about the game. Anyway, making the upstairs rooms off-limits had been my idea. An absolutely brilliant stroke of genius for a then nine-year-old girl. In one move, I’d ensured that no one would be up there when I went looking for the pull-up and that I would be safe from anyone following after me. I took quick glances in both directions as I stood at the base of the stairway. Perfect. There were no other kids in sight. I leaped up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time with each upward lunge until I was safely around the corner and out of sight. I encountered my first problem when I made it to the bedroom where Timothy and Alex had been sleeping. I had somehow assumed that the pull-up Alex had ripped off could be fixed. I seemed to recall that the pull-ups my brother had worn a year ago had Velcro sides. But that wasn’t the case with these bedwetting pull-ups for some reason. But there had to be additional pull-ups elsewhere. There couldn’t be any way that the boy’s parents would risk them peeing all over the bed while they were spending the night as guests. I didn’t have any luck in the first suitcase that I looked through, nor the second, but the third one was where I struck gold. There were more than a dozen pull-ups tucked into the side of the suitcase. Surely, they wouldn’t notice if one of them happened to go missing. I grabbed a pull-up and bundled the pull-up into a ball, tucking it into the waistband of my skirt. I was sure that was not nearly as discreet as I thought it was at the time. But, to my good fortune, I was able to make it to a nearby bathroom without being caught. The adults were busy downstairs, and my cousins, who were playing hide and seek, were doing a better job than I was at abiding by the rules. I locked the bathroom door behind me. I double and triple-checked to make sure the door was actually locked. I removed the pull-up from under my skirt and held it in my hands. I didn’t stop then to think through how bizarre the whole situation was at the time. I think I must have stood there looking at it for several minutes. Feeling how it crinkled beneath my touch, testing out the sides to see how far they could stretch, rubbing my fingers down the padded interior. I was completely and utterly fascinated by it. The desire was no more explainable than a moth being drawn to a flame, a kitten to catnip, or a raven to a shiny object. I cautiously slid my arms through the leg holes, stretching the pull-up out in front of me. Not only was it more than stretchy enough for me, but it could probably fit a kid twice as wide as I was. Now came the moment of truth. I removed my skirt and underwear. The pull-up had a side that was helpfully labeled as the back, so I knew which way to put it on. As I brought the pull-up into place around my waist, it was like sliding the final piece of a puzzle into place. I turned around so that I could look at my reflection in the mirror. I lifted up the front of my skirt so that the whole pull-up was in view. It practically came up all the way to my belly button. There was something about the way it hugged my sides, the way the soft padding pressed against my skin as I sat down on the toilet lid and the way it crinkled quietly as I paced across the bathroom that left me completely enamored. There was just one thing left to do. And I didn’t have much time before everyone noticed that I was missing. I lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and sat down while still wearing the pull-up. One of my deepest regrets was that I had went to go potty right before the game of hide and seek began, meaning there wasn’t anything waiting to come out of my bladder at the moment. I tried. I really did. I wanted to know. I had to know. What would it feel like to pee into a pull-up? It couldn’t be bad. Alex and Timothy hadn’t seemed to be put off at all by waking up in a wet pull-up every morning. But nothing happened. The timing was off. My bladder wouldn’t cooperate. And time was up. I needed to be out of the bathroom in a couple of minutes. I considered it a radical idea. What if I put my underwear and skirt over the top of the pull-up? I could continue to wear it until I actually needed to pee. I nearly did it. I really, truly, honestly nearly did it. But then I chickened out. The same way I would, time and time again for years afterward. It was too risky. A small trickle of shame was diluting my euphoria. I knew that despite how ecstatic I was at my discovery, the reality of anyone else discovering this secret — and the relentless shame and teasing that would follow — would be devastating. I wasn’t like Alex or Timothy. I didn’t have the veneer of bedwetting to hide behind as an excuse for wearing a pull-up. I slid the pull-up off of my legs. I intended to put it back in the suitcase. Then it would be like nothing had ever happened. That’s when I encountered a second problem. Apparently, I had gone potty in the pull-up after all. Not a lot, just the teensiest of tinkles. But it was enough to leave a tiny yellow patch the size of a quarter smack dab in the middle of the pull-up. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had even noticed it in the first place. That would have made for an awkward situation for Alex and Timothy had I put the pull-up back in the suitcase. I peered into the trash can. I was in luck. I could make out two pull-ups at the bottom of the small trash can. One had been turned inside out, the color of its interior leaving no doubt as to the truthfulness of Alex’s description of his and his brother’s bedwetting. I bunched up the pull-up and tossed it in the trash can. I didn’t think it was likely that anyone would be paying too much attention to notice the addition of one more pull-up in it. My curiosity sated, I returned to the game of hide and seek, pretending that I had been expertly moving in between hiding places to avoid being spotted. I didn’t think anymore about the pull-up until later that evening when we were lying in bed at the hotel. Jackson was little enough that he could sleep on a padded mat and sleeping bag on the floor while Grace and I shared a bed – an experience that hadn’t gone well the past couple of nights, as it had been interrupted by midnight accusation of blanket theft. If it had just been Grace and me in the room, if Mom, Dad, and Jackson hadn’t been around to overhear it, I might have worked up the courage to ask my older sister about her bedwetting. I wasn’t even sure if she knew that I knew about it. But I had to know. Had she worn the same pull-ups as Alex and Timothy? Was there perhaps a style that came in colors and designs for girls? But we weren’t alone, and those questions went unasked. The drive home wasn’t any easier. I didn’t touch my tablet, which had been my constant companion on the trip here. Instead, I stared out the window. But I wasn’t paying any attention to the passing cities and landscapes. Instead, my mind was replaying the events of the previous day, in particular, the few precious minutes when I had my hands on the pull-up. I was filled with a deep sense of longing and regret. Why had I thrown the pull-up in the trash? Why hadn’t I put it back on beneath my skirt? I would have had it with me now. I could have been wearing it now. Of course, I did know better. I would have had no issue wearing the pull-up out of the house, but once we had gotten to the hotel, there wouldn’t have been any realistic way for me to have kept it concealed. But the acknowledgment of that reality did nothing to lessen my longing for the pull-up. I had nothing but time as I began to scheme up all the different ways I could get my hands on another one, or better yet, an actual diaper. What would I have done if I had known the wait was to be measured in years rather than days, weeks, or months? --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/
  9. Kayla is the CEO of a successful company. But she's been on kind of a mean steak lately. Not just her attitude, but she's also cut some employees salaries and benefits. Her right hand lady, Julie isn't too happy with that. Julie has requested that Kayla come to her office so she can talk to her
  10. Chapter one A soft spring sun promised a beautiful summer. The kids were back outside after the long winter. It was still chilly but the direct rays of the sun were lovely and the coats had been left at home. Quietly two boys were busy with each other, with their sleeves rolled up, hidden behind a garden house where they sat out of sight of the house, sheltered from the wind and unwanted looks. “Well, then we're blood brothers now.” Dries said, pressing his bloodied wrist against Jasper's. They looked at each other with joy. It was Dries who had taken the lead in the whole thing, but Jasper was happy to go along with it. They had been best friends for a long time and shared all the joys and sorrows. If they weren't at Dries' house, they could be found two blocks away at Jasper's house or on the playground between the two families. Often an extra place was covered at the table if Jasper or Dries lingered in one of the two houses. When Jasper or Dries went on holiday, and they couldn't see each other for more than three days, they both felt a big knot in their stomach because of the loss. “Now that we are blood brothers, we should never keep secrets from each other and share everything.” Dries continued. “And if you reveal a secret to someone else, your hand falls off.” he also said. Dries meant what he said, but Jasper wasn't so sure about the latter. But it made no difference to him, he would never betray the trust of his best friend. It had been Dries who had made the whole thing up. He had read about it in a book about how they used to do it and brought it up to Jasper. He wanted to become blood brothers and Jasper went along with it. At Dries's request, Jasper had brought a pocket knife from his big brother and together they hid behind Dries's garden house. Dries had thought out the ritual completely. First ask the great spirits to be witnesses. Then they vowed about what it meant to be blood brothers. “I swear I will protect my blood brother from now on. I will share all my love and all my grief with him. I swear that I will always protect him. My secret is his secret, and his will be mine. I swear I will never do anything to betray my blood brother's trust.” Then they blessed the knife. “O great spirits, behold this knife with which we shall seal our bond.” Dries said, holding the knife up in the direction of the sun. Dries took the knife and cut his forearm with it. Not that it mattered much. The knife was rather blunt and there was no more than a scratch showing a small drop of blood in two places. Dries decided that was adequate. It was painful enough, and nothing Dries had read about it said how much blood it took. Jasper repeated the ritual to himself and offered his wrist to Dries, after which he placed his on it. “Well, then we're blood brothers now.” Jasper wiped the knife on his pants, closed the knife and put it back in his pocket. The two friends sat down next to each other and both sucked on their wounds to wipe off the blood. “I'm glad we're blood brothers now.” Dries said. Jasper nodded convincingly yes. He had never been much of a talker, but that wasn't a problem for their friendship. They understood each other. “Dries, come and eat!” called Kathy, Dries' mother. Quickly Dries and Jasper rushed to Dries' house. “Ah, are you there Jasper?” Kathy said. “Does your mum know?” Jasper nodded quickly yes, he had indeed shouted something like that to his mother this afternoon before he left. “Slide on Jasper, I'll send your mum a message. Which of your two mums is home?” Kathy then continued. “Mommy Helga is home.” said Jasper. “Mommy Celine has to work today.” Kathy quickly took her cell phone and sent a message to Helga. << Your piggy gets his food here today. 😉 >> and Helga's answer came quickly. <<Thank you, send that monkey of yours here tomorrow, and he will get his ration here.>> they had known each other since their children started school, but they got on well. While Kathy was exchanging messages with his mom, Jasper took an extra plate and cutlery and put them on the table. Dries meanwhile took another glass and the five of them quickly sat down at the table. Heleen, Dries' big sister, and their father were also there. “Oh Dries and Jasper. Your hands are still dirty. Are you coming to the tap? I'll help.” Heleen was thirteen, five years older than Dries and Jasper. She was such an overly caring type of sister who was very protective of Dries. Having Jasper around only made her happier, because it meant she had two 'victims' for her good intentions instead of one. Jasper and Dries usually let her do it. It could be useful if they needed help for something, but sometimes this mothering was quite disturbing. The time at the table was filled with conversation. After dinner, Dries and Jasper continued to play inside. Dries took the Lego from his room and in the living room they started to build a castle that hopefully could withstand the attack of a dragon. Jasper used to ask if they couldn't just go and play in Dries' room, but that was never allowed. After a while, Jasper stopped asking. Different house, different rules, he thought quietly. After an hour of building, Kathy's cell phone rang. <<That piggy of mine can go to the stable. It's early morning training for him and he has to get up early. Are you sending him? Grtz Helga>> Kathy immediately turned to the boys. “Come Jasper, it's time to go to sleep sends your mother. Better at home in your own bed than here. Right?” “Of course,” Jasper replied sadly. On the one hand, he would have liked to have played a little longer. (the castle was not finished yet) and on the other hand he really wanted to spend the night with Dries. He had asked that several times, but it had never happened. There had always been a reason. (It's school tomorrow, there's training tomorrow, Dries is tired from last night and should definitely sleep well now,... ) Reason after reason every invitation or proposal was declined and it never happened. Finally, Jasper had given up asking. “Hey Jasper. Put on your coat and shoes and go home. Your mama is waiting.” urged Kathy Dries said goodbye to Jasper as he put on his things. “Come on Dries. Leave upstairs now. Then you can go straight to bed as well.” Dries' mom finished as she quickly helped Jasper tie his shoelaces. Kathy checked on the street whether Jasper was crossing properly, after which she went inside to put her son to bed. Jasper came home in a good mood. “Nice play at Dries?” Helga asked her son as he came in. Jasper nodded cheerfully yes. “I'm always sad when it's over.” Helga took Jasper upstairs to get him ready for bed. Pyjamas, brushing teeth, toilet and finally a story. Jasper can of course already read himself, but being read to (with mummy who does those loverly voices) makes it even more fun. Chapter two A week later, Dries and Jasper were again sitting behind the garden house in the afternoon. "Remember last week?" Dries asked Jasper. Jasper looked up at Dries in surprise. He remembered what they had done here last week, something important that he would not forget easily. A blood oath is something for life. Jasper believed in sharing the whole message with joy and sorrow, keeping no secrets from each other. But why did Dries have to sit and shift so uncomfortably? Jasper became worried that something bad was happening. “Remember when we swore we weren't going to keep any secrets from each other?” Dries continued, blushing slightly. “Of course I remember that Dries. You and me. We are blood brothers. You can tell me anything and I swore I would never tell anyone else." Jasper replied. Jasper didn't have to hesitate about his answer. He meant it with all his heart. Dries looked sharply in all directions to make sure no one was around. When Jasper saw what he was doing, he looked nervously around the corner of the garden house, but no one was there either. "Come here." whispered Dries quietly. Jasper moved his buttocks a bit and came forward with his ear to be able to understand Dries. Jasper was afraid of what was about to come. Dries had never been so ashamed to say something. "I still do pee in bed at night and you promised not to tell anyone." Dries whispered urgently and hurriedly into Jasper's ear. Jasper looked in surprise at Dries. Was he still wetting the bed? Babies only did that, didn't they? Jasper wasn't sure what to do with this information. He was going to keep it to himself, Dries was his best friend, after all, but what was he supposed to do with it? Why had Dries said that? All these questions were running through Jasper's mind. Dries looked anxiously back at Jasper, waiting for an answer. The silence, short as it was, was painful and made him fear the worst. "Now that you know that, you can sleep here." Dries added quietly. That turned the dime in the right direction for Jasper. "Really, can I sleep over? Yay! at last!" exclaimed Jasper. "I'm going to ask your mum if she sends a message to mine to ask if that's allowed." Jasper chattered away. Forgetting the bed-wetting, the two children rushed in to get their parents' permission. "Mommy, can Jasper sleep here?" Dries asked. Dries's mom thougth for a moment. They had to get up early tomorrow to visit grandpa and grandma, so it wasn't really a good idea. But it was the first time that Dries had asked a friend to spend the night. She knew why, he was ashamed of wetting the bed. It didn't really work out, but she didn't want to discourage the first step. "that's fine for me, but we're also going to ask Jasper's mum first." Kathy said. "Know Jasper that you have to go home quickly tomorrow morning, because we are leaving. Go on playing, I'll send a message to your mom." << Hey, my monkey has asked your pig to spend the night here. Is that possible? Greetings Kathy>> << That's good for me. Does my pig know about your monkey's problem? Greetings Helga>> <<I don't know. I'll talk to them soon. K>> <<Are you going to send my piggy home afterwards? Then I give him a bag with some sleeping stuff. H>> <<Okay, that's good. I've got a spare pillow and sheets here, he don't have to bring that. K>> << That's good, how long can he stay? H.>> << I'll send him back between nine and ten am. My in-laws are expecting us tomorrow afternoon. K>> << That's good, I'll see him coming.>> After the messages were exchanged, Kathy, Dries' mother, went looking for her son and Jasper. "I've just exchanged a few messages with Helga. Jasper, it's good for her too, your mom allows you to sleep here." "Yippee!" the two boys shouted in unison. They were really looking forward to it. Dries was a bit worried about how the evening would go. He had told Jasper that he wet the bed, but not everything that went with it. "Jasper, there is something else I have to tell you about Dries." Dries blushed because he immediately knew what was coming. "Dries just told me that he wets the bed at night." Jasper told Kathy. Kathy smiled. "That is indeed true. Did he also tell you that there is nothing he can do about it?" "No, not yet, what do you mean?" Jasper then asked. "For some children, the wetting goes away quickly on its own, while for others it takes longer. That is quite normal. There are many children who wet the bed, but no one knows about it because no one says anything about it. In your class there are probably be two or three other children besides Dries who also wet the bed." "I didn't know that, I thought only very young children did that." said Jasper carefully, not wanting to offend his best friend. "Of course not. Some big kids, even bigger than you, have that problem too." Dries' mother assured Jasper. Dries looked a bit puzzled. He didn't like his mother discussing his 'nocturnal problem' with anyone else, even if it was his best friend. Assured that Jasper had understood that Dries could not help it, and Dries assured that he really had nothing to be ashamed of, she sent both children to Jasper's house so that they could collect his things. Armed with pyjamas, a cuddly toy, toothbrush, toothpaste and a change of clothes for the next day, Jasper and Dries returned to Dries' house. "take those things upstairs right away. I'll help you make your bed." said Kathy. Jasper followed Dries carefully upstairs. He had never been upstairs before and did a curious look around the room. He saw the boxes of toys, a desk with his schoolwork, the bed, bedside table and two large closets. "Wow, so big and beautiful." Jasper said as he slowly turned around and then sat down on the bed. "Why was I never allowed to come here?" he asked, feeling with his hand on the mattress that strange thing that made such a strange noise. "So you wouldn't feel the plastic over the mattress." said Dries with red jaws. "It protects the mattress in case I wet the sheets. You would have known that I wet the bed." "That's all right, don't worry about it." Jasper said. "I'm so glad I can stay with you now." Dries' mum came in with a folding bed and a set of sheets. "Here Jasper, will you put your pillow in the pillowcase?" she asked, fiddling with mattress protectors and sheets herself. A few minutes later the bed was nicely set up. Dries displayed Jasper's stuffed animal nicely on the headboard and afterwards they went downstairs towards the living room. With everything in order now, the boys set to work on the Lego castle where they had been working on the week before. There were still a few walls to go and a tower that had to be built as high as possible. That way, the catapult would be able to protect the castle from the dragon. After dinner the boys worked and played for a while, until it was time to go to bed. "Here Jasper. Take your pyjamas and go to the bathroom. Dries, which pyjamas do you want?" Jasper went to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. While he was busy brushing his teeth, he heard the toilet flush next to the bathroom. A little later Dries came in in his pyjamas and grabbed his toothbrush. He had apparently changed into his pyjamas in his room. Jasper went to the toilet and then to Dries' room. Dries' mum was already waiting with a story book in her hands. Jasper's eyes started to sparkle. He loved stories. "We are waiting for Dries, and when he's ready we'll start." Dries came out of the bathroom a little later and settled on the other side of his mum. Kathy opened the book and started. "The Knight Princess. Once upon a time there was a princess, who was stronger and tougher than…" The boys enjoyed the story from start to finish. They each got another 'good night kiss' and the lights went out. Jasper tossed and turned in his bed. It wasn't just him, another room, another bed. And now he was also curious about Dries' bed-wetting. What would that look like? Jasper's head was full with questions, but he didn't dare ask them. It's because Dries' dad had been very strict. If he had to come upstairs to the bedroom once because they were being too noisy, this would also be the last sleepover. And Jasper hoped there would be many more could follow after this first one. It took a while before he found his peace, but Dries's calm breathing was somewhat contagious and eventually he too also fell asleep. Jasper woke up to the light coming through the curtains. At home he always had to lie down until it was eight o'clock, but here he didn't see a clock anywhere. Carefully he tried to look at Dries to see if he was awake yet. Because the guest bed was so much lower, he couldn't see anything. Carefully he tried to sit up, but the bed made a terrible noise when he moved. Jasper so stopped and lay still. He thought that the noise of that bed would certainly wake Dries' parents, and he didn't want that. He wanted to behave as well as possible so that he could certainly do more sleepovers. Jasper remained lying there for another five minutes (according to his feelings). "Dries, are you awake?" he asked finally Jasper listened for a moment as he whispered, but heard nothing. Maybe he was not whispering loud enough. "Dries, are you awake?" followed again, this time a bit louder. Now Dries must have heard it. Jasper did indeed hear movement in Dries' bed. Dries turned around and everything rustled. There was also a low murmur coming from the bed but is wasn't clear enough to be understood. "Dries, louder, I didn't understand you." Jasper said now more than he whispered to Dries. "Yes, what is is, is it time already?" said Dries again. "Are you still asleep?" Jasper asked Dries. Quietly, Jasper began to see his mistake. But Dries was awake now and they started to play. Not much later (or so it felt) Dries' mum came in and it was really time to get up. Kathy had a busy schedule and urged the children to hurry. "Jasper, go downstairs and start eating. Helga will pick you up in half an hour. Dries has to come with us, we are going to visit his grandparents." Heleen was already eating at the table downstairs. "Sit down. I'll make you a sandwich. What do you want on it?" she asked Jasper. Jasper chose the strange blue and white crackling spread. He had only eaten it once before and thought it tasted good. While Heleen was busy smearing, the rest of the family also came down. Dries even had already all his clothes on! Jasper was just nibbling the last of his sandwich when his mother came to the door. "Go and get changed quickly Jasper, we will leave then too." Kathy said. In no time at all Jasper was upstairs and in his clothes. He quickly said goodbye to the family and walked home with his mother. There was a quick honk and wave as Dries drove by with his family. "Can Dries come and stay overnight next week?" Jasper asked his mother longingly as he watched the car pull out of the streat. Chapter 3 The next school day was started with making plans for the following weekend. The family was going on a day trip to a nearby forest and Dries was going along. Jasper knew the perfect secret spot to build a camp, and no one else would be able to find it in the play forest. Jasper was sure of it. During the lesson, they made a minute-by-minute plan on a scrap of paper from Dries when the teacher called them to order. When the construction plans for the camp were taken away the next day at school, Jasper and Dries were furious. All their ideas gone! On the third day of school they lost their list of materials and on the fourth day of school, to their surprise, the map they had made of the area around the camp was taken away. Did their teacher really not understand where the priorities lay? All the work they had done for the past week was thinly redone on Friday afternoon during playtime. "At least now they have no reason to take away our work." Dries growled between his teeth. Jasper nodded softly. He was redrawing the map with the tip of his tongue between his lips. "Jasper. That's your calligraphy book you got there. What are you doing now!" a weary teacher bellowed over the heads of the two children. All week they had been more busy with each other than with the lessons. "Why didn't you just ask for some paper? Give me that notebook here." Disappointed, Jasper handed over his calligraphy. All their work for nothing again. But as determined the children wanted to make their preparations, so unpredictable is the weather. When Dries rang Jasper's doorbell from under his umbrella in the morning, instead of the promised spring sunshine, there were clouds, rain and a lot of wind. The forest was closed because the risk of trees or branches falling was too high due to the stormy weather, so the trip was therefore cancelled. They discussed the craziest punishments they could give the weatherman while playing a board game called Hotel. In the end, they came up with a fake marriage proposal between their teacher and the weatherman. In the end, they were the ones who ruined their weekend. The board game was alternated with electric racing cars, Monopoly, making a bed, Playmobil, normal cars and a game called Gold Diggers. The only strange moment was when Dries made his bed. As usual, the careless Dries scattered and threw everything around, for example he bounced his cuddly toy off the ceiling into the bed. He aimed his toothbrush and toothpaste from three metres at the sink and remained at one-half metres and thirty cm from the target respectively. But just as he picked up his pyjamas and was about to throw them at the bed, he changed his mind. Cautiously, he walked to his pillow and carefully slid his pyjamas under his pillow like the nice package they were. Then the clean clothes for the next day flew towards the chair. Jasper looked surprised for a moment, wondering where this break in Dries 'normal' behaviour had come from. But soon his attention shifted to the next activity and the moment was forgotten. A couple of hours and one figuratively exploded house later, the boys were lying paralysed in their seats, on the verge of boredom. "Come and slide on you snot noses." Gert, Jasper's big brother came in and, as always, immediately asserted himself. He always wanted the best seat on the couch. And that was exactly where Jasper was sitting. Jasper knew he had to leave Gert his spot, but on one or another way, Jasper always seemed to sit in Gert's 'best spot'. Jasper rolled out of the seat and quickly scrambled out of the way towards Dries so to avoid being crushed under Gert. The 'move on' was the only warning he received and Jasper knew he had to hurry if he didn't want to face any consequences, big or small, from his brother. Gert was twice as old, twice as strong, twice as heavy,... He enjoyed the power he had over these two 'little buggers.' or 'snot noses' as he sometimes puts it. Clicking on Helga, Jasper's mum, would help for a short while, but later that day or the day after, Gert would always make it clear why clicking was an 'unwanted behavior' and what the consequences were. For Gert, this 'unwanted behavior' had to be suppressed as quickly as possible, preferably in the most original way possible. Originality to Gert usually meant a combination of hands or feet and pain. Gert lived by the standard that small, cute and sweet by definition did not belong to little brothers. He had a few life motto's that Gert lived up to as best he could. 'The strongest rise to the top' 'If you can't win, you have to cheat.' and finally: 'Growing up and grow tall is the cure for everything.' What he thought was perfectly normal when he was still eight years old, he now thinks as a sixteen years old, that all these things are for toddlers and babies. No one is allowed to say that as an eight-year-old he still had fun with Lego, Playmobil or playing on playgrounds. In short: Gert and Jasper preferred to deny each other's existence and their live together was based on a fragile and above all unequal balance of power. Gert would turn off the children's channel, which the two boys used to try to combat their boredom, and he switched to a series about the most uninteresting subject there was. Slowly, they trudged from the sofa to the kitchen in search of something else. Helga made the final preparations for dinner. “Good to have you boys. If you'd like to put your pyjamas on now, you can play Mario Kart after dinner. Otherwise it will be time to go to bed almost immediately after dinner." Dries and Jasper did not hesitate. Dries didn't have a Nintendo at home and Jasper's parents didn't usually let them play electronic games when Dries was around. The two boys stormed upstairs. Jasper pulled out his favourite onesie. Dries left a trail of clothes from the door to the bed and was already pulling on the top of his pyjamas when Jasper came in. Jasper sat down on the bed to take off his stockings when he saw Dries picking up his pyjama bottoms. Excited as Dries was, he had forgotten which 'package' was still folded between his pyjama bottoms. While Dries jerked the pants, another piece of clothing and something white came out between the pants. Red-faced, Dries dove after it and quickly muffled them both under the sheets. Of course, with Jasper sitting right next to him, the attempt to do it in secret was doomed from the start. "What's that?" Jasper asked as he pulled back the covers. "My nappy for when I wet the bed." Dries stammered as he tried to pull the covers back up. "Isn't it too small for you?" Jasper asked, ignoring Dries' attempt to hide it and grabbing the diaper. "Does it fit? I didn't know it existed that big?" Jasper's interest was aroused. He looked closely at the front. There was a picture of a lion with a blue-green stripe at the top... Dries watched with tears in his eyes as Jasper discovered his secret. "I didn't know you wear that," Jasper said, turning the diaper around to all sides to feel and see. Dries let out a huge sigh of frustration. "Yes, I wear it. As the only one in the whole world out of everyone who is eight. Mum says there are some more, but I don't believe her. I've never seen anyone else wearing a nappy!" Jasper looked at Dries doubtfully. "Neither have I," he replied after considering for a long time and not thinking of anyone else. Dries was the only one he knew who was still wetting the bed. Dries let the tears of humiliation flow freely down his cheeks. He felt so unhappy. He felt alone in the world. Jasper looked at Dries uneasily. He noticed the tears and tried to retrace his steps. "Would you really be the only one? Do they make those nappies just for you?" he asked quietly. Dries shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know anyone. I've never seen anyone as big as me wearing one." Dries sobbed, taking long breaths in between. Jasper couldn't stand it, Dries' sadness, and he wanted to do his best to cheer her up. "There must be someone." "No, I've never seen anyone else wearing it. I'm really alone!" "You're not alone. I'm here, aren't I?" Jasper said as he held Dries to comfort him. Jasper hadn't quite understood yet. “But you never wear nappies," Dries cried. Jasper was silent. He indeed never wore a nappy. The boys continued to dress in silence. Dries sobbed over everything that had happened, Jasper thought about everything he had just seen and heard. It was a lot to take in. Dries quickly tucked his nappy and what looked like a T-shirt under the blanket and together they walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Helga looked at the boys in surprise as they returned. The usual chatter was much less than usual and Dries' eyes were a little red and puffy. "Are you all right?" she asked Dries. Dries nodded quietly as he sat down at the table. Helga was curious as to what had been going on between the children, but as they seemed affected but not actively arguing, she let it go. The meal went smoothly, except that Gert was asserting himself. These little children had nothing important to say to him, so the only one worth talking to was himself. After dinner (ribs, oven fries and applesauce), a few games of Mario Kart were played. Jasper usually won the most, because he obviously could have practised a lot more. But this time Dries had a much better chance. Jasper's mind was elsewhere. Dries' exclamation that he was the only one, and that was why he was so unhappy, echoed in his head. And Jasper, sweet and sensitive boy that he was, wanted to see Dries as happy as possible. He tried to come up with various plans, but they are not always realistic or feasible. There are certainly other eight-year-old children who wear nappies at night. But where do you find them? And once you've found them, how can you convince them to admit that they wear them too? Organizing a survey in the football/classroom/friends group might do the trick, but who will be brave enough to admit it? Hide in the shop and see who buys nappy's? Most of the time it will be mums and dads buying them, and you don't know which child it's for or how old they are. And how would Jasper persuade his parents to let him spend half a day in the supermarket doing 'a bit of research'? If not by the boss of the supermarket being thrown out on suspicion of criminal activity. And a tour of the village, ringing bells everywhere, was probably as successful as the chance to win Euromilions. Jasper was calm as he lost round after round of the game. He was quiet when they had to stop playing and were sent upstairs. His head kept spinning and he hadn't noticed that Dries had gone into his room alone with his mother. Until Dries was standing next to him, brushing his teeth. Then Jasper saw that the outline of the nappy was clearly visible in Dries' pyjama bottoms. When Jasper rinsed his mouth, he could hardly take his eyes off it. Dries saw that and the tears came back to his eyes. "I'm sorry," Jasper said, looking away in embarrassment. “I don't want to hurt you," Jasper whispered softly to him. Chapter 4 The children were read a short story by Jasper's mum (The Amazing Tree House with 13 Floors), and with the message that she did not want to come up again to silence the children, she closed the door. “Dries?” Jasper whispered as he heard his mother going down the stairs. “Yes, what is it?” Dries replied. “Shouldn't we be quiet?” “If we whisper it will work. I've been thinking,” Jasper said. Because you feel so alone, because you don't know anyone else who also wears a nappy. I want to help you and I've been thinking about how to find someone else, but I'm not quite sure how...” “See I'm the only one. I'll never see anyone else I know wearing a nappy,” Dries sobbed. “But I know a solution,” Jasper said. “If I put one on right now. Then you won't be so alone anymore.” “Really?” Dries asked. “Are you serious? Would you do that for me?” “Yes,” Jasper whispered back softly. “I'll do anything for you.” Dries' eyes watered again, but this time not from sadness. He knew he had a good friend in Jasper, but he had no idea he would go to such lengths for him. “Give me one and we'll do it right away,” Jasper whispered, curious to know what his friend went through every night. But he also wanted to do it now, before his courage failed him. Now he had enough courage for it, tomorrow during the day he might feel differently. “I can't,” Dries said. “I only have the one I'm wearing. I can't give you another one.” “Then next time at your place.” Jasper said before he knew it. What did I promise now? he asked himself. “Thank you,” Dries said. “You're the best friend anyone could have.” “Don't mention it,” Jasper replied. “Sleep well.” “Sleep well,” Dries whispered before laying his head down. Jasper turned around soon after, both children far away in dreamland. The week passed quickly and the following weekend they had an appointment at Dries' house. Dries had asked several times during the week if Jasper was really going to put on a nappy for him. Sometimes Jasper doubted whether it was a good idea to secretly put on one of Dries' nappies, but the look on Dries' face every time Jasper confirmed immediately knocked all doubts out of him. He would make Dries extremely happy by putting on a nappy as well. Jasper was worried about what would happen if they found out. Would Dries' mom see that an extra nappy was missing from the bag? Would she come into the room at night and see it? Would she then tell his own mothers? What would they say? Jasper was very nervous and afraid of being discovered. He wasn't really afraid of wearing a nappy once, after all he made Dries very happy with it. He was dreading a possible discovery and everything that would come with it. Jasper had gone to Dries' house after lunch that Saturday. He put his luggage in the room and then got ready with Dries to catch reptiles together. Armed with two buckets and two nets, they headed for the stream. After catching one Dries insisted they were salamanders, but Jasper was sure they were lizards. They didn't really know the difference. When they asked Heleen for a definite answer, she only gave them a third option. Heleen joined in and told a whole story about knights, dragons and magic. According to her, these creatures were the distant descendants of ferocious dragons that had been reduced to their present form by the combined strength of two knights (a certain Jasper and Dries), a few elves, wizards, fairies and a whole lot of magic. Jasper and Dries enjoyed the story Heleen had told them, but they were still wondering whether it was a lizard or a salamander. While preparing the beds, Dries and Jasper had secretly taken a diaper from the bathroom and placed it at under the duvet at the foot of Jasper's cot. Kathy, Dries' mother, realised that they were busy with 'plans', but that happened so often. Kathy was not worried, because the next day usually brought stories of great adventures. The evening went well. After dinner, Jasper, Dries and Heleen played another boardgame of Hotel until it was time to go to bed. After Dries and Jasper had gotten dressed and gone to bed, there was a brief moment when there was a close call. Kathy opened the beds so that the children could crawl under the covers, and the diaper that lay at the foot of Jasper's bed was barely exposed. The children lay in bed, listening carefully as Kathy went downstairs. They quietly counted to the agreed hundred, after which Dries declared it safe to carry out their plan. Jasper dug out the nappy from the foot of the bed. It took a while. Finding the front, trying out the tapes, sticking it on again, and after a few well-intentioned tips, explanations and help from Dries, it was more or less fixed. Dries had even pulled down his pyjama bottoms, with red cheeks, then opened his body and pulled it up to show how it should look. When Jasper compared it to himself, it wasn't quite as nicely centred and mirrored, but it didn't fall off as soon as he stood up, so it was good enough. This time Jasper zipped up his second favourite onesie and crawled back into his sleeping bag. Dries beamed with joy. Jasper really was his best friend. There was no one in the world who had a better friend than him. He gave him a quick hug in gratitude. Jasper also felt a little lighter and happier under Dries' positive attention. They were best friends, and the good bond they already had got a huge boost. After some more careful whispering back and forth, Dries fell asleep with a blissful smile on his face. Jasper tossed and turned a little longer. The sensation of the nappy between his legs was exciting, exhilarating and soothing all at the same time. He was still enjoying the smile on Dries' face and he regularly ran his hand between his legs and over his bottom to feel the nappy and listen to the sound it made. He was not very comfortable. It sat a little crooked, pinching one groin more than the other, and he felt that it was all a little too loose. He turned restlessly and fell asleep a little later, lulled by Dries' calm breathing. Jasper woke up a little later in the middle of the night. He had forgotten to pee before going to bed. Nature called and he stumbled across the room, more asleep than awake, towards the door. He turned left towards the toilet and took two steps forward. By the third step he was wide awake and suddenly remembered several things at once: One: He was not at home, but at a sleepover with Dries. Two: The toilet was on the right side of the hall, not on the left. Three: What was on the left was the stairs. Four: When his foot failed to land where he thought it would, falling instead into an empty space, he knew he was on the Staircase.
  11. Katie Ann What do you do when you look 7 years old, but you're actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen's entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn't the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her how she looks, 7 years old? By Becky Anne ©2018-2024 ~o~O~o~ Chapter One: The Website Nineteen-year-old Kathleen sat staring at her laptop, working on the courage to create an account and profile on the website she just found. She had found this website after taking out her frustrations on the Google search engine. Frustrations she acquired by rage quitting her multiplayer roleplayer game. Baron, her master in the game, turned out to be like most guys she has met online, only wanting sex, cybersex in Baron’s case. Submissive Match, the name of the website, kept staring at her from her purple laptop. It was distracting her from figuring out what she needed to acquire for her return to Mountain College. Not realizing she was doing it, she clicked the yellow create account button. Moving some of her auburn hair out of her view, she flipped back to her list of supplies needed for her return to college next month. “Hmm, most of these things I already have…” she thought. “Oh, I better buy some more notebooks. While I am at it, I will buy that new book by Percy Jackson, ‘Sea of Monsters.’” “It is too bad that Stephanie had financial aid issues. I wonder how this Allison is? Is she going to have a problem with a college roommate who is short enough to be her little sister?” She continued to herself as she looked at her roommate's information pamphlet. Flipping back to the website, “Let's see what they want… I am a submissive… oh, that pulls up a whole new form… some of the standard stuff … Kathleen … Why do they want my middle name … Annabelle Telgenhof … March 16, 1987… I guess the owner's choice for a submissive name … Email… Don’t send me spam from your sponsors… Don’t share my email with suggested owners... Password… I am not sure why they want this information… Weight… 55 pounds soaking wet… Height ... 4’5” rounded up... their selection doesn’t even go that small. I guess I have to choose less than 5’... Location… Pennsylvania… I guess I am looking for an online owner. Oh, what the hell, an offline owner, too... Let’s see, a short questionnaire, a short description, and a recent picture will finish it off.” Looking at the time, “Wowser, that took longer than I thought it would,” Kathleen thought as she put her laptop to sleep. She meets her mother, Marlene, in the kitchen after walking out of her bedroom. “Hello, sweetie. Do you want some ice cream?” Marlene asked as she was scooping into a bowl. “You know I can never turn down cookie dough, Mommie.” "We can watch AFHV as we eat it.” “Sounds like a plan.” “What are your plans for tomorrow while I am at school?” “I told them I would do some volunteering at the zoo since time is getting short until my return to college. I need to stop for college supplies before or after; I just hope I don’t get pulled over for underage driving this time,” Kathleen mentioned. “That still happening?” Her mother asked. “Usually once a week, Mommie.” “Not much we can do about that, unfortunately, sweetie, except for you to grow a few inches,” Marlene pointed out. “Or afoot? Neither an inch nor a foot is going to happen, Mother. That ship sailed ages ago,” Kathleen said crossly, turning her eyes towards the TV. Marlene nodded and watched the television in silence. ~o~O~o~ Rolling out of bed at about 7 o’clock the following day, Kathleen booted up her laptop as she got dressed and ready for a day of volunteering. Coming back to the computer, she started her everyday morning computer habits, email, MySpace, Yahoo Messenger, and a few websites… before logging on to Submissive Match. “Let's see if I got any hits from my profile.” She discovered after she was finally logged in that there were three messages waiting for her. Looking at the first, “Eww, I really didn’t need to see that guy’s dick, this might of been a big mistake. … Oh, there is an ignore feature, thank god.” “Here goes nothing for the second, … interesting name… I seriously doubt his name is really Beast…” “Hello, Little Girl, you’re just the kind of young girl I would really like to meet. You would be perfect kneeling in front of me …” Other than the nickname for herself and himself, this guy isn’t too bad so far, Kathleen thought. “... with my legs spread wide open, and pants zipper down …” “EEEWWW,” Kathleen said out loud, “Spoke too soon!” and she couldn’t click the ignore button fast enough. Leaving the third message for later, she went to get a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Looking at the time, “I will have to leave the third message and college supplies ‘til after the zoo.” ~o~O~o~ “Hello Kathleen, thank you for coming. Why don’t you take the hedgehog and sit down on a bench just inside the entrance to the zoo? You should get plenty of exposure there,” Mr. Cooper, the zoo’s volunteer coordinator, instructed while thinking to himself about that also places her in a place where we can watch her. I am always worried she may be kidnapped, being so small and easy to be confused with an actual grade school kid. Kathleen nodded and headed to where the educational animals were kept. Continuing the thoughts, Mark took a memory trip back five years. “I first told her she was too young to volunteer. She had to be 14. I could have sworn it was a five or six-year-old asking to volunteer. I am kind of glad she pleaded her case and produced proof of age since she has been one of my best teenage volunteers.” He continued to himself, “I will never tell her, but that outfit is custom-ordered for her. I also purposely took the tags off to hide the fact that it is a size 7/8 girls' polo shirt.” Looking out of his office window towards the entrance plaza that it overlooked, he noticed Kathleen was setting up right where he requested her to. “I have never discussed it with her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she were self-conscious about her height. I would be if I were her,” he thought before returning back to his volunteer hours spreadsheet. ~o~O~o~ “Riiinnnggg” “Susquehanna Valley Zoo, Volunteer department, Mark speaking, how can I help you?” … “How old is your daughter?” … “Sorry, she is a few years too young. She has to be 14 to volunteer.” … “The one with a hedgehog today? She is actually 19 years old.” … “Unfortunately, a common misunderstanding with her. Have your daughter give me a call in a couple of years.” … “Talk to them then.” Hanging up the phone, he looked out the window at the object of the confusion. A group of grade school kids currently surrounded her. The only thing that set her apart from the other kids was the green polo shirt, which signified that she was a volunteer. ~o~O~o~ “OK, Mr. Cooper, I have returned the hedgehog to the education department.” “Thank you, Kathleen, five hours today?” Mark said, looking at the clock. “What was your driving time?” he continued. “Yes, that is correct, and it takes me twenty minutes each way to get here.” “When do I expect you back?” “Unless you have a better idea, I should return Wednesday at the opening,” Kathleen said, thinking of her plans. She had agreed to go out with some high school friends tomorrow. “Works for me. When do you return to college?” “My parents and I are going in a convoy next month, August 13th.” “You will be missed again this year.” “Aww, I will be back again next year,” Kathleen said as she felt her face color up. Showing her to the door, Mark turned his attention to entering Kathleen’s hours in his spreadsheet. “That girl is the closest thing to a little girl I would ever have. I can’t seem to produce the required X chromosome for a girl,” he thought, thinking of his three boys currently in daycare. Meanwhile, Kathleen started driving to a bookstore to buy her prize book and required school supplies. Seeing a cop tailgating her in her rearview mirror, she checked her speed. Noticing she was actually under the speed limit, she thought, “Not again. Can I ever drive without being pulled over for underage driving?” After five minutes and no lights, she wondered what was taking him so long to pull her over. Five more minutes later, the cop slowed and made a U-turn. Kathleen thought that was strange. He tailed me and didn’t pull me over. ~o~O~o~ Pulling into the driveway, she couldn’t get in the house fast enough to check that third message that had been calling her all day. After booting up her laptop, she went to the kitchen to get a glass of peach tea. “Let's see,” Kathleen said, entering her details on the website. “Oh, two new messages. I must have received another today.” Opening up the first message, the third from this morning, she began to read it out loud, “Dear Buttercup, I was inspecting the new profiles and happened to notice yours. I am intrigued by your profile, and I hope to hear from you. Master Adam” “Well, that was short to the point and not creepy,” Kathleen said, going to the second message... “Not another dick picture,” Kathleen screamed, going to the ignore button. After returning to Master Adam’s message, she checked out his profile. “Adam Dale, 25 years old, Pennsylvania, Looking for online/offline submissive, oh he isn’t bad looking.” Hitting the reply button, she typed, using the submissive name he gave her, “Dear Sir, Buttercup is intrigued by your profile too and interested in communicating with you. I am not sure how to go about the next step. - Buttercup.” Putting her computer to sleep, she went into the living room to watch some television. ~o~O~o~ Author's Note: Comments, and questions are always welcomed. I am currently writing chapter 69 of this story. -- Thanks Becky
  12. John's life is going to change forever after his neighbor's college-student son starts flirting with his wife. Diapers, forced feminization, cuckolding, and forced bi are included. You can find the first two chapters of this story on my Patreon - patreon.com/LittlerWriter . Chapter three is coming out this weekend. You can also find other stories, including Rebecca’s Second Babyhood, Evelyn’s Regression, Regressing the Older Sister, Miss Helena's Ballet Academy for Immature Mothers, A Mother's Mistake and so much more. Captions, photos, short stories, and everything related to ABDL role reversals. ................................................................................................... Prologue Everyone was looking at him. His son, his son’s wife, his mother, his colleagues, his neighbors, his friends. Even his own daughter. They all witness his new status. Diapered and dressed in the most ridiculous pink baby romper. All eyes were on him and his wife, who stood behind him like a proud new mother. Besides her, the source of John’s nightmares and the reason he was being paraded in such a state: Jacob. Or as he knew him now, Daddy. Chapter 1 John’s Mistake It was another picture-perfect summer afternoon in a quaint suburban neighborhood. The lush green lawns stretched endlessly under a cloudless azure sky, punctuated only by the occasional tree. Neighbors gathered in small groups and engaged in amiable conversations as the mellifluous scents of grilled food permeated the air. John Thompson found himself that day, displaying his success and wealth in the face of his neighbors. Few of them were aware of who John was before he invited them to an evening BBQ. They were going to find out. At least, that was John’s hope. With an uncontrollable mixture of pride and anxiety, he had spent days meticulously preparing for the occasion. Friends and neighbors were all present, enjoying the warmth of sunshine and the good company. But there was something wrong with how things were playing out. None of them seemed to care. John was such a successful engineer with a big house and a sexy wife. No. Attention was turning to his neighbor’s young son, Jacob. He stood out among the crowd; his rugged athleticism was accompanied by an air of confidence, his gaze piercing yet magnetic. Everything John wished he had been when he was in college. A football star. A popular young man. Not even all his money could change that now. Compared to the young man, John was simply uncharismatic and a bit chubby. Had he not had enough money to buy her everything she wanted, he doubted Sarah would’ve married him. And if he needed a reminder of it, he could just as well see how she flirted with the athletic barely legal young man. Their looks exchanged sparks John had never gotten from his wife, and it enraged him. Feeling jealous, John did everything he could to keep Jacob and Sarah apart for the rest of the evening. But it was to no avail. Whenever John wasn’t looking, Sarah would jump in to entertain the young and handsome athlete. They didn’t even care if people were around, judging their not-so-subtle flirt. Maybe Jacob wasn’t flirting. Maybe he was just being nice to a more mature lady. John needed to know, so he rushed to meet the young, handsome man. “Hi there, I’m John,” he said, extending his hand, “You must be Robert’s son. Jacob, right? Jacob shook his hand with a firm grip. So firm it almost made John cry in pain. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Thompson.” “You play ball, right?” “That’s right. Do you like football?” John hesitated. He honestly wasn’t into sports, and he thought of those who were as lesser. If Jacob was just another jock, there was nothing to be worried about. Success was a matter of intellectuals like him. He smiled, “No. Not really.” “Figures.” “Excuse me?” “Figures,” said Jacob with a very clear and husky voice, “Sorry. I was having a very pleasant conversation with a beautiful woman, but she had to run some errands. I think she’s back,” he said, pointing with his eyes at John’s wife. “That’s my wife.” “I’m aware.” “She’s beautiful. Isn’t it? I’m a lucky man.” “If you say so.” “What were you talking with her?” Asked John, losing his patience with the handsome young man. Jacob smiled, “Nothing you should worry about. Now, if you excuse me.” And without hesitation in his movement, Jacob left John standing alone as he made his way back to Sarah. John couldn’t enjoy the rest of the evening. Not even the compliments of his neighbors and peers could wash out the sour taste of Jacob emasculating him. His sour temperament turned the remaining of the evening into hell for him and the rest, so it wasn’t a surprise when the party was over sooner rather than later. “Why are you still here?” asked John when he entered his beautiful home. There, sitting on his couch, was Jacob. Next to him was John’s wife. They had a gland of wine in their hands and were chatting as if they had known each other forever. “John! Don’t be rude,” said Sarah, a little bit tipsy, “Jacob wants to help with the trash. Robert wasn’t feeling well, so he asked Jacob to help us.” “That’s right. My father didn’t want to leave you alone with the cleaning,” said Jacob, smiling charmingly, “He’s a good man.” “You are so thoughtful and eloquent,” said Sarah. “Oh,” said John, not knowing how to proceed,” I guess that’s okay.” Thirty minutes later, John noticed Jacob wasn’t cleaning around much. Neither was his wife, for that matter. They were sitting inside, chuckling together as Jacob shared his latest football victory. John wouldn’t have said anything, but when Jacob placed his hand on Sarah’s leg, he knew he had to act. He couldn’t let this happen, not in front of him. “Hey, Jacob,” he called out, sounding more confident than he felt. “Can you give me a hand with something?” Jacob raised an eyebrow. “I need to move the grill. It might rain tonight.” “Rain tonight?” Asked Sarah, “It hasn’t rain in a month.” “Sure thing, John,” said Jacob, standing up, “It’s good to be cautious. Lead the way.” As they walked towards the shed, John couldn’t help but feel that Jacob’s demeanor had changed. He felt angry. And his anger felt like a monster compared to John’s petty jealousy. “Are you flirting with my wife?” “Yes.” John wasn’t expecting such a blunt answer. He expected Jacob to apologize and blame the alcohol or something. He didn’t know how to react. But his anger turned into rage, and without any control over his body, he tried to punch Jacob in the face. But the young boy blocked it easily. John, on the other hand, didn’t block Jacob’s punch. It hit him right in the face and made everything around John blurry. “Don’t stand up again until I tell you so, or you’ll be sorry,” said Jacob. But John didn’t listen. His rage was enough to get him back on his feet, even when his brain kept telling him not to. “I tried to warn you.” Jacob punched John right in the stomach, so hard, close to his bladder, that the impact had an immediate consequence. A massive amount of urine found its way through John’s underwear and pants, running down like a constant flow until John was sobbing in a puddle of his own making. He was in too much pain to notice it at first, but the warm feeling around his legs and crotch soon caught his attention. And if that wasn’t enough, Jacob’s laugh brought him back to reality. “You fucking loser, you peed yourself.” “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m an adult. This is my house,” John said in between sobs. “Do you feel like you are in any position to complain?” Jacob laughed, reveling in John’s humiliation. John’s face reddened, his cheeks burning with shame. His heart raced, and his breath came in quick, shallow gasps. Tears welled in his eyes, no matter how much he tried to fight them back. What would he say to his wife? “Enough!” he snapped, attempting to regain some dignity,” Get out of here. Get out of my house!” “You look like a little kid throwing a tantrum.” “Get out! Get out! Get out!” Jacob stood right in front of John, towering over him, “Make me.” John didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t even think about another beat-up. So he looked away, defeated. Humiliated. Wondering what Sarah would say if she saw him like this. “I thought so. Now, let’s go. Sarah needs to see this.” John froze right there. He couldn’t let his wife see him like that. It was bad enough she had been flirting with Jacob all day, but this humiliation. He just couldn’t. “Please, no,” he said, now crying in desperation, “Please. I’ll do anything you want.” “You will. But I’m still showing Sarah what you did. What do you think she’ll do?” “Please, no!” But Jacob didn’t care. He grabbed John and, to his surprise, carried him like a father would carry a toddler, as if John was weightless. Not caring about John’s soaked pants. Or the fact he kept crying against his chest. “Your life’s about to change,” said the younger man.
  13. Here we go again. As I had just started writing my first story ever (Whispers in the Dark), I already learned a ton. While I still uses crutches (AI), I thought I could already use what I've learned with Whispers in the Dark and apply it to a new, more thought out story. This one is already mostly outlined, has longer chapters and a completely different theme to it. I will still continue Whispers in the Dark of course, but while that one is only roughly planned in my head, this new one is fully planned out on paper. Except for one wetting scene, the build up is rather slow, but it will be worth it. I have a lot planned for this story. You can view the first 3 chapters as some kind of very long prologue. Let me know what you think! Under Pressure Innocence in the Shadow of Power Chapter 1 - Birthday Under the soothing rush of the shower, I felt the weight of today pressing down on me. It was a pivotal moment, the divide between the life I'd grown accustomed to and the uncertain horizon ahead. Each droplet mingling with my tears seemed to underscore the harsh reality: I was saying goodbye to the comfort of my tiny apartment, facing the daunting prospect of nowhere to belong. "Happy birthday, Feli," I murmured to my reflection as I emerged from the steam. Felicity von Sterntal—that's my full name. The "von" part adds a touch of German flair, a nod to nobility, though our family's far from royal. My grandparents, German immigrants who made their way to the USA in the 60s, christened me with the nickname "Feli," though it's pronounced more like "Fehly." I never really knew them, as they passed when I was just a baby. Still, I've grown fond of my name. It's distinct, and it ties me to something, even if it's just the echoes of the past. Drawing upon every bit of strength I could muster, I willed a smile onto my lips, hoping to cloak the uncertainty gnawing at my core. The girl in the mirror, barely reaching five feet tall, her deep blue eyes framed by unruly black hair cascading down to her mid-back, reflected my forced composure. Despite my 18 years, she seemed more like a lost teenager navigating the tumult of adolescence rather than on the brink of adulthood. As I locked eyes with her, the facade faltered, exposing the raw loneliness lurking beneath the surface. She lacked the confidence she sought to project. Stepping into my living room—well, my only room—a wave of sadness engulfed me. Today marked the end of calling this place home. Glancing around, memories flooded back, stirring up a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. In one corner stood my tiny kitchen, equipped with just the basics: stove, sink, fridge, and microwave. It had witnessed its fair share of culinary experiments and mishaps. Opposite the kitchen, my bed nestled into another corner, its modest size a testament to the limited space. Despite its smallness, it had cradled me through countless nights of rest and contemplation. Across from the bed, my desk stood, once housing my PC which I'd already packed away. It had been my sanctuary for studying and coding, a space of productivity and focus. And lots and lots of gaming. Now, everything else was neatly packed in boxes, except for my trusty backpack holding the essentials: phone, laptop, and a few changes of clothes. As I surveyed the remnants of my life here, a shroud of uncertainty settled over my thoughts. I scooped up the final crumbs of cereal from the box, a stark reminder of dwindling supplies in my modest kitchen. With a sigh, I sank into the worn chair at my desk, spoon in hand, and retrieved the letter once more. Its contents had been etched into my memory since its arrival on the day of my high school graduation, just weeks ago. As I savored the last bites of cereal, I read over the letter one last time. Dear Felicity, We hope this letter finds you well. It is with careful consideration that your mother and I have reached a decision regarding your financial support. As you have successfully completed your high school education and are soon to reach the age of majority, we believe it is appropriate to adjust our financial arrangements accordingly. Regrettably, we must inform you that, effective immediately, we will no longer be providing you with financial assistance, including your allowance. Furthermore, in light of your impending 18th birthday, arrangements have been made for movers to assist you in vacating the apartment that we have provided for you. We view this transition as a gesture of our support and encouragement as you embark on the next chapter of your life. Please be prepared to surrender your keys to the designated representative upon their arrival. With warm regards, Alexander and Victoria von Sterntal It was a cruel slap in the face, a harsh reminder of my parents' indifference, their decision to cut off the last lifeline of financial support right on the brink of my adulthood. As I absorbed the cold, impersonal words of the letter, a surge of anger and resentment boiled within me. This wasn't just about money; it was a final abandonment, a deliberate shove into the abyss of independence. The memory of how I came to live in this apartment at such a young age flooded back, stirring up a blend of bitterness and resignation. My parents, consumed by their careers and absent from my life, had effectively abandoned their parental duties when I was just fifteen. Their presence had never been significant anyway; nannies had filled the void left by their absence, their faces blending into a blur of caretakers who had come and gone over the years. Despite their neglect, the apartment had provided a semblance of stability in a chaotic world. It was my sanctuary, my own space amidst the turmoil. And now, as they callously stripped away even that small comfort, I couldn't help but feel bitterness at the injustice of it all. With a heavy heart, I folded the letter and set it aside, its implications casting a palpable weight in the air. The cereal in my bowl had lost its appeal, each spoonful a bitter reminder of the uncertainty looming ahead. As the minutes stretched on, I pondered the cruel irony of their supposed "birthday gift," a gesture tinged with spite rather than kindness. And as the harsh reality of my situation settled in, I steeled myself for the turbulent road ahead, resolved to carve out my own path despite the hurdles in my way. As the doorbell shattered the quiet of my apartment, I braced myself for the inevitable. With a steadying breath, I crossed the room and swung open the door, greeted by the stern gaze of a man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a somber suit. His presence filled the doorway, a forewarning of the chaos awaiting me. Introducing himself as a representative of the von Sterntal family, a bitter irony settled over me at the shared surname, a reminder of the tangled connections binding me to this tumultuous moment. Behind him, a group of movers stood with downcast expressions, their sympathetic glances betraying their discomfort at being complicit in my forced eviction. It seemed they had been briefed on the situation, their professional demeanor tinged with a touch of empathy. "Miss von Sterntal," the representative began, his voice laced with formality. "I assume you're aware of the purpose of our visit," he continued, his gaze drifting to the neatly packed boxes scattered throughout the apartment, silent witnesses to the impending upheaval. I simply nodded, the lump in my throat stifling any words that threatened to escape. "Very well," he said briskly, his tone businesslike. "If you could just sign here and hand over the keys, we'll take care of the rest." His smile carried a hint of reassurance, emphasizing that the movers' services came without cost to me. With a resigned acceptance, I took the document and signed it, my signature a stark acknowledgment of my departure from the property. Handing over the keys, I watched as the movers sprang into action, loading my belongings into the waiting truck. It was a transaction devoid of choice, a forced relinquishment of my home, as I stood by, a silent witness to the unraveling of my life. As the movers finished loading my belongings, I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the only link to the life I was leaving behind. With a final click, the representative locked the door, marking the end of an era. As we headed towards the waiting truck, he spoke up once more, offering me a semblance of choice amidst the chaos. "The movers will take you wherever you want," he said, his words a small act of kindness in the midst of turmoil. And just before we parted ways, he added, "Oh, and Miss von Sterntal, happy birthday by the way." His well-wishes hung in the air, a bitter reminder of the cruel twist of fate that marked the day. With a handshake and a farewell, he left me standing there, the taste of bitterness lingering. As the truck pulled away, carrying me towards an uncertain future, I couldn't help but resent the hollow birthday wishes, a stark reminder of the emptiness awaiting me. I directed the movers towards a storage unit I had booked online for a week, a temporary sanctuary for the fragments of my past life. It was a pragmatic solution, born from necessity with the scant funds left to me by my parents. As we navigated the bustling streets of the city, I couldn't shake off the irony of my circumstances. Despite being the offspring of the private owners and executives of a multi-billion-dollar tech empire nestled in the heart of NYC, their generosity towards me had always been in short supply. Their reminders of my status as their "accident" reverberated in my thoughts, a persistent reminder of my position on the fringes of their world. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that despite their wealth and influence, I was little more than an inconvenience to them. And as we unloaded the remnants of my former life into the storage unit, I felt the weight of their neglect bearing down on me, a burden I carried with me into an uncertain future. As the movers drove off, leaving me to face the stark reality of my situation, I gazed at the orderly array of boxes in the storage unit. Each one contained memories and possessions, now symbolizing the entirety of my existence. This was it – my entire life condensed into a confined space, a tangible manifestation of the upheaval that had swept through my world in a single day. Overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, I sank to the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks as emotions flooded over me. Time seemed to blur as I sat amidst my belongings, the weight of my newfound homelessness crashing down on me in relentless waves. In that moment of vulnerability, every suppressed feeling from the day – the abandonment, the betrayal, the uncertainty – converged, drowning me in a torrent of despair. I couldn't tell how long I stayed there, lost in the abyss of my anguish. All I knew was that this was my reality now – adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with nowhere to call home. As I closed the storage unit, a heavy sigh escaped my lips, mingling with the chill of the morning air. My backpack felt like a lifeline, its weight a reminder of the few possessions I still possessed. While my plans for the days ahead seemed meager, tinged with a sense of futility, I trudged along the bustling streets of New York City. Each step carried the weight of uncertainty, a burden I had grown accustomed to bearing alone. As I rounded a corner, my gaze inevitably fell upon the towering silhouette of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper, its imposing presence etched into the city skyline. I knew every facet of that building all too well, a monument to the wealth and success my parents had achieved. Yet, it also symbolized the stark divide between their world of privilege and my own neglected existence. High above, on the top floor, lay the domain of Alexander and Victoria von Sterntal, my parents, seemingly peering down on me from their ivory tower. The shadow cast by their empire seemed to mirror the shadow they had cast over my life, leaving me in the darkness of their neglect. Shaking my head to dispel the troubling thoughts, I stepped into the warmth of a nearby cafe, seeking refuge from the chill of the city streets. Dwelling on the weight of my circumstances was a luxury I couldn't afford at the moment; practical matters demanded my attention. With each passing moment, the reality of my situation loomed larger—I didn't even have a place to rest my head for the night. The uncertainty gnawed at me, fueling a sense of urgency as I scanned the bustling cafe for a temporary respite from my troubles. Choosing a solitary spot by the expansive window, I couldn't help but feel drawn to the lone chair stationed beside the table. It seemed to mirror my own isolation, a silent companion in the midst of a crowded cafe. As I settled into the seat, I signaled the server and placed an order for a simple tea, mindful of my dwindling funds. The price felt steep for such a basic beverage, but I knew the cost was necessary to gain access to the cafe's WiFi—a lifeline in my current predicament. With a sense of resolve, I awaited my order, hoping that the warmth of the tea would offer some solace amidst the uncertainty of my circumstances. Taking a cautious sip of the steaming tea, I set my laptop upon the table and powered it up, the soft glow of the screen casting a comforting light in the dimly lit cafe. With a sense of determination, I delved into the task at hand, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I navigated through job listings and online applications. The simplicity of my plan belied the daunting reality of my situation—I was an 18-year-old with only a high school diploma, adrift in the competitive landscape of New York City's job market. Yet, despite the odds stacked against me, I poured all my energy into the search, knowing that every opportunity seized could mean the difference between survival and succumbing to the shadows of my circumstances. As I sifted through yet another round of discouraging rejection emails flooding my inbox, my focus was abruptly shattered by the boisterous entrance of a man engaged in a heated phone conversation. His voice carried above the ambient chatter of the cafe, drawing the attention of patrons with its intensity. Despite my initial reluctance to eavesdrop, I found myself inadvertently tuning in to his conversation, snippets of disdain toward a VIP client punctuating the air. Intrigued, I observed him as he made his way to the counter, his animated gestures betraying the gravity of his conversation. With a sense of curiosity, I couldn't help but wonder about the complexities of his world, momentarily distracted from the weight of my own struggles by the drama unfolding before me. Feigning engrossment in my laptop screen, I diverted my gaze as the man collected his coffee and turned in my direction. Discomfort prickled at the edges of my consciousness; I loathed the idea of being caught staring, a violation of the unspoken etiquette of public spaces. With practiced nonchalance, I buried myself in the facade of productivity, my fingers tracing absent patterns on the keyboard as I scrolled through meaningless content. As the man fell silent, a fleeting sense of dread coiled within me, only to be shattered by the resumption of his conversation moments later. Relief washed over me as he departed the cafe without so much as a second glance in my direction, leaving me to exhale a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The brief encounter served as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between privacy and observation in the bustling landscape of city life. As the hours slipped away, so too did the fragile tendrils of hope that had buoyed my spirits earlier in the day. Despite my best efforts, the job search yielded little more than a string of rejections, each one serving as a stark reminder of the uphill battle I faced in securing employment. With a heavy heart, I conceded to the reality of the situation—I had made little progress, and time was slipping away. Gathering my belongings and tucking my laptop securely into my backpack, I steeled myself for the next hurdle: finding shelter for the night. The uncertainty loomed large, casting a shadow over my already precarious existence, but I refused to succumb to despair. With determination fueling my steps, I pushed open the door of the cafe and stepped back out into the bustling streets of New York City. With a bag of chips clasped tightly in my hand, I embarked on a solitary journey through the labyrinth of city streets, my footsteps echoing against the pavement as I wandered aimlessly. The neon glow of storefronts illuminated the impending darkness, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the concrete. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a constant reminder of the meager sustenance I had managed to scrounge up for dinner. Yet, as I roamed the unfamiliar terrain, a sense of helplessness washed over me, amplifying the weight of my circumstances. The prospect of renting a room or even a bed felt like an impossible luxury, far beyond the reach of my limited means. Lost in the sea of uncertainty, I struggled to discern a path forward, the cityscape looming around me like an insurmountable obstacle. Sitting down heavily on a bench, I sought solace in the simple act of munching on the salt-flavored chips, their flavor resembling the silent tears tracing paths down my cheeks. As I gazed into the distance, my eyes inevitably landed on the looming presence of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper once again, its towering silhouette a constant reminder of my own inadequacy in the shadow of my parents' success. A surge of defiance rose within me, driving me to shake off the suffocating weight of helplessness that threatened to engulf me. With a resolute shake of my head, I refused to surrender to despair. Pushing myself upright, I continued to scour the streets for any glimmer of hope, a beacon amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me whole. Rounding a corner, my weary eyes alighted upon a surprisingly pristine alleyway nestled beside the imposing facade of a law firm. Shielded from the harsh gaze of the bustling street and buffered from the relentless gusts of wind that swept through the city, the alley offered a semblance of respite amidst the chaos of urban life. With darkness descending upon the cityscape and exhaustion weighing heavy upon my shoulders, I knew that this secluded alcove would have to suffice for the night. Despite the pang of discomfort that gnawed at my conscience, I resolved to make the best of the situation, clinging to the fleeting sense of security offered by the sheltered confines of the alleyway. With a weary sigh, I nestled against the unyielding coolness of the concrete wall, my jacket wrapped tightly around me in a feeble attempt to stave off the chill of the night air. Clutching my backpack to my chest like a lifeline, I sought solace in the familiar weight of my belongings, their presence a source of comfort amidst the uncertainty that loomed around me. As exhaustion weighed heavy upon my eyelids, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into the welcoming embrace of sleep, the cacophony of the city fading into the background as I surrendered to the oblivion of slumber. In the solitude of the alleyway, I found a fleeting sense of peace, a respite from the trials and tribulations that had plagued me throughout the day. And so, beneath the watchful gaze of the moonlight, I surrendered myself to the darkness, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of dreams. Chapter 2 - John I woke up to the raucous symphony of the waking city, my body stiff and sore from the uncomfortable concrete floor of the alley. The cold seeped into my bones, a reminder of the unforgiving night that had passed. Determination surged within me as I made a mental note to invest in a sleeping bag, albeit a budget-friendly one. Luxury was a distant concept now. Every expense had to be carefully weighed against necessity, but not freezing to death seemed necessary enough. The distant rumble of a garbage truck echoed down the street, prompting me to glance towards the nearby dumpster that had offered me some semblance of privacy throughout the night. Taking it as my cue to depart, I pushed myself up from the cold concrete, aching muscles protesting the movement. With a determined resolve, I reaffirmed my plan for the day, the same as yesterday, unaltered despite the discomforts of the night. With my trusty backpack snug against my back, I traversed the bustling streets, a lone figure amidst the throngs of morning commuters. The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted from a nearby bakery, tempting me with its promise of sustenance. Yielding to the growling protest of my stomach, I indulged in a modest yet satisfying sandwich, procured with the meager funds at my disposal. Satiated, albeit temporarily, I continued on my journey, guided by a sense of familiarity towards the same cafe that had become my refuge the day before. Entering the cafe, I was greeted by a comforting wave of warmth and the familiar aroma of brewing coffee. It felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of my current circumstances. Glancing over to the corner where I had sat the day before, I breathed a sigh of relief to find it still vacant, my spot waiting for me like an old friend. With a sense of quiet determination, I settled into the familiar surroundings, ordering another one of the overpriced teas that had become a guilty pleasure amidst my frugality. Opening my laptop, I delved once more into the relentless task of scouring job listings, navigating the virtual labyrinth in search of a beacon of hope amidst the sea of rejections. It was a bitter irony that plagued my thoughts as I sifted through the digital landscape of job postings. The online forums, where praise flowed freely for my coding prowess, seemed worlds apart from the harsh reality of my current situation. Despite being self-taught and garnering accolades from virtual strangers, I had faltered in monetizing my skills, relegating them to the realm of mere hobbyism. Coding and gaming had long served as my refuge, a sanctuary from the tumultuous years of high school and the suffocating grip of loneliness. Yet, as I now grappled with the daunting task of securing employment to sustain myself, the weight of my perceived failure pressed down upon me like a suffocating blanket. If only my parents had told me sooner, I would’ve probably had something figured out by now. Lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts, I found myself gazing absently out the window, the passing scenery a blur against the canvas of my mind. It was then that I noticed the familiar figure of the man from the day before, striding purposefully towards the entrance of the cafe. A pang of apprehension gripped me, prompting a swift diversion of my attention back to the glowing screen of my laptop. Tuning in to the ambient sounds of the cafe, I couldn't help but overhear his order, a simple request for a coffee to go, mirroring his routine from the previous day. A subtle sense of curiosity stirred within me, mingling with a tinge of unease as I pondered the significance of his presence once more. As I remained engrossed in my task of scouring job listings and dispatching applications into the digital void, the absence of the man's departure did not escape my notice. Despite his initial intention of ordering a coffee to go, the distinct lack of movement behind me hinted at his lingering presence within the confines of the cafe. Resolutely keeping my focus trained on the flickering glow of my laptop screen, I resisted the temptation to steal a glance over my shoulder, preferring to remain ensconced in my own world. Time drifted by in the steady rhythm of keystrokes and mouse clicks, punctuated only by the murmurs of other patrons and the occasional clink of ceramic against tabletops. It wasn't until a considerable while later that I observed his departure from the corner of my eye, his enigmatic presence departing as quietly as it had arrived. A fleeting curiosity stirred within me, fleeting thoughts of his peculiar aura and expensive attire crossing my mind before swiftly dissipating amidst the urgency of my own endeavors. As the day wore on and my focus waned, I made the decision to call it quits, at least for the time being. With a newfound determination fueled by a semblance of planning, I bid farewell to the comforting confines of the cafe and ventured back out into the bustling streets. Remembering the necessity of securing a sleeping bag for the impending night, I retraced my steps to the store I had spotted that morning. Scanning the shelves for the most budget-friendly option, I finally settled on the cheapest offering. Though it offered no protection against dampness, it was a small comfort knowing that it would stave off the biting cold, leaving me with enough funds to sustain myself with nourishment for a few more days to come. With a sense of resignation gnawing at my insides, I purchased another bag of chips, though acutely aware of their meager nutritional value. As I trudged back towards the alley that had become my makeshift refuge, I couldn't help but cast a glance towards the towering spire that housed my parents' corporate empire. Biting down on a chip, the taste a bitter reminder of my circumstances, I felt a surge of despair welling within me. The sight of their skyscraper loomed over me like a mocking specter, a constant reminder of the chasm that separated us, both physically and emotionally. With clenched teeth and a fervent hope burning within my chest, I prayed that this dismal routine would soon become nothing more than a painful memory of a bygone era. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the biting chill of the night descended upon the city, I nestled into the familiarity of my chosen spot within the alley. With the thin barrier of the sleeping bag offering a modicum of warmth, I settled down, leaning against my backpack for a semblance of comfort. Tears welled in my eyes, tracing silent pathways down my cheeks, as the crushing weight of my predicament enveloped me once more. In the darkness, surrounded by the echoes of solitude, I felt the suffocating embrace of hopelessness tighten its grip around my heart. Yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of determination burned within me, a stubborn refusal to surrender to the engulfing darkness. Clinging to that glimmer of resilience like a lifeline, I vowed silently to myself that I would not succumb, that I would persevere against the odds, no matter how insurmountable they seemed. For in the depths of my despair, I found a resolve that whispered fiercely in the silence: I could not give up. I would not give up. As I stirred from my fitful slumber, the city had already sprung to life around me, its bustling energy a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of the alley. Despite the persistent ache that clung to my body like a lingering shadow, I couldn't help but acknowledge the small comfort afforded by the sleeping bag wrapped around me. Unlike the previous night, the shivers that had plagued me were noticeably absent. The sleeping bag had proven to be a worthwhile investment. With a weary yet grateful sigh, I rose to my feet and carefully packed up my sleeping bag, folding it neatly as I prepared to face another day. Embracing the familiarity of my newfound routine, I steeled myself for the challenges that lay ahead. As I retraced the familiar steps of my routine, grabbing the same sandwich from the same bakery and making my way to the same cafe, I couldn't help but marvel at the swiftness with which humans could fall into patterns. Yet, upon entering the cafe, the comfort of routine shattered in an instant. Seated at my usual spot in front of the window, in the corner, was the enigmatic man who had piqued my curiosity the days before. His gaze was fixed out the window, lost in thought as he sipped on his coffee. A sense of intrigue tinged with apprehension washed over me as I hesitated in the doorway, uncertain of how to proceed in the wake of this unexpected disruption to my routine. With a resentful glance at the man's back, I took a seat behind him, my frustration simmering beneath the surface as I ordered my tea and opened my laptop to resume my job hunt. Sighing heavily, I couldn't help but feel the weight of disappointment as I sifted through the slew of new rejections that had flooded my inbox. Another day stretching out before me, seemingly destined to end in the same vein of fruitless endeavors and dashed hopes. Lost in the rhythm of typing out applications, I was jolted from my focus by the subtle stirrings of the man in front of me. Ignoring the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine, I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the screen, hoping to avoid any unwanted interactions. Yet, despite my efforts to feign indifference, I could sense his probing gaze boring into me, a silent weight that I could no longer ignore. After what felt like an eternity of silent scrutiny, I relented, lifting my eyes from the screen to meet his gaze. To my surprise, he had moved closer, now sitting directly in front of me, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Hi, I'm John," he said, extending a hand in greeting, but I remained rigid, my gaze locked in a glare, still nursing my resentment for his disruption of my routine. His attempt at cordiality was met with my silent rebuke. "All right, all right," he continued, his tone laced with a hint of apology, "I apologize for taking your spot, but I needed an excuse to talk to you." His words hung in the air, punctuated by the weight of his admission. Despite my lingering irritation, a flicker of curiosity sparked within me, compelling me to lower my guard ever so slightly. "That's a pretty bad excuse," I retorted sharply, my glare unwavering as I remained guarded. "Yeah, probably," he chuckled in response, his admission punctuated by a hint of self-awareness. Yet, before I could respond further, he continued, his demeanor shifting to a more serious tone. "Anyway, I wanted to make you an offer," he stated, his eyes appraising me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "And I think you'd be perfect for this." Despite my lingering apprehension, the mention of an offer piqued my curiosity, stirring a mixture of intrigue and caution within me. His lingering gaze, however, remained a discomforting reminder of the unease that still lingered between us. "What kind of offer?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow in suspicion as he smirked in response, a gesture that already grated on my nerves. "It's something I can't talk about in detail here, but it will be very profitable for you and you seem perfect for this," he replied, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made me uneasy. He jotted down his phone number on a piece of paper and slid it across the table before standing up. "I bet you could really use some money right now," he remarked, his eyes trailing over to my backpack and sleeping bag beside me, sending a chill down my spine. As he made his exit from the cafe, he spoke once more, his parting words hanging in the air like a weight upon my shoulders. "Give me a ring, Miss von Sterntal," he said, the mention of my name sending a jolt of mortification through me. I watched in silence as he left the cafe, his words echoing in my mind, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable in their wake. As I sat there, grappling with the unsettling revelation that dawned upon me, I pieced together the puzzle in my mind. He had been watching me, studying my every move. Perhaps he had glanced over my shoulder yesterday, observing the desperation with which I scoured job listings and sifted through rejection letters. My name, Felicity von Sterntal, had undoubtedly been revealed through the numerous applications I had submitted, a detail he could have easily gleaned. And the presence of the sleeping bag, a symbol of my desperation and downtrodden circumstances, likely provided him with the final confirmation he needed. It became painfully clear that I must have appeared to him as the perfect victim for whatever scheme he was plotting. The realization sent a chill down my spine, a wave of vulnerability washing over me as I grappled with the unsettling implications of his calculated observation. With a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach, I resolved to proceed with caution, wary of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of his enticing offer. As I continued to sift through job offers, the memory of John and his mysterious offer lingered in the recesses of my mind like a persistent whisper. Despite the reservations gnawing at my conscience, I couldn't shake the allure of his seemingly affluent demeanor and the enigmatic promise he had made. His professional attire and confident demeanor bespoke a level of wealth and influence that was undeniably intriguing, especially for someone who appeared to be in his late twenties. Yet, as I found myself briefly succumbing to the fleeting temptation, a resolute determination surged within me. I shook my head. I refused to entertain the notion of compromising my principles, even in the face of such uncertainty and desperation. The thought of possibly engaging in anything of a sexual nature for monetary gain was quickly dismissed, my self-worth and dignity too precious to be bartered away. Also it’s not like I have any sexual experience anyway. However, despite my resolve, a speck of curiosity about John and his mysterious offer lingered in the recesses of my mind. As I continued to sift through job offers, his presence remained a lingering question mark, tugging at the edges of my consciousness with a persistent allure that I couldn't quite shake. The day dragged on, each passing moment marked by the familiar sting of disappointment as my efforts yielded no success. Despite the mysterious interruption earlier, I quickly regained my focus, returning to the monotonous routine of job hunting. A while later, seated in the same spot, beneath the looming shadow of the skyscraper that towered above me and reminded me of my past, I found myself lost in thought, munching on the same kind of chips that had become a staple of my meager diet. As I chewed on the familiar salty snack, the memories of the past days flooded through me, a relentless tide of reminders of my struggles and setbacks. The relentless cycle of uncertainty weighed heavily on my mind, a constant reminder of the uphill battle I faced in clawing my way out of the depths of despair. Amidst the turmoil of my thoughts, a simple realization emerged: I needed to break free from the confines of this repetitive existence, starting with something as simple as changing my dinner menu for tomorrow. With a heavy sigh, I rose from my seat and began the familiar trek towards my secluded alley. As I passed by the office of the law firm, now a fixture in my daily surroundings, I couldn't help but steal a longing glance through the windows, pondering the lives of those within. Lost in idle daydreams, my attention was abruptly shattered when I found myself locking eyes with a man about to step into an elevator at the back of the lobby. It was John, and to my horror, he had noticed me too. Panic surged through me like a tidal wave, flushing my cheeks with embarrassment as I hastily averted my gaze and bolted around the corner, seeking refuge in the safety of my alley sanctuary. The encounter left me rattled, a knot of apprehension coiling in the pit of my stomach as I grappled with the unsettling implications of our unexpected meeting. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon me as I settled into my makeshift resting place behind the dumpster, seeking solace in the refuge of sleep. Yet, despite my weariness, rest proved elusive as I found myself caught in a hazy limbo between wakefulness and slumber. Memories of the day swirled around in my mind like a tumultuous whirlwind, refusing to grant me the respite I so desperately sought, leaving me in a disorienting haze where they swirled like fragments of a fractured reality. Amidst the fog of my memories, John's face emerged intermittently, a haunting presence that lingered on the fringes of my consciousness. Despite my best efforts to find respite in sleep, his haunting gaze seemed to follow me into the realm of dreams, casting a shadow of unease over the fragile sanctuary of my thoughts. And so, I remained suspended in a daze, trapped in the liminal space between consciousness and oblivion, grappling with the unsettling echoes of the day's events that refused to be silenced. As I drifted on the precipice of sleep, I was violently yanked back into consciousness by the sensation of someone shaking me with rough urgency. With a gasp, my eyes flew open to behold two looming figures, their silhouettes cast in stark relief against the feeble glow of the street lantern that pierced the darkness of the alley. A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal, as fear surged through every fiber of my being, rendering me paralyzed in shock. Tears streamed down my face in torrents, blurring my vision as I trembled uncontrollably, a helpless captive to the terror that gripped me in its merciless embrace. Frozen in place, I could do naught but gaze up at the looming shadows, consumed by a suffocating sense of vulnerability in the face of the unknown. "Hey girl, give us all of your money!" one of the figures demanded, their voice dripping with menace as a sinister smirk danced upon their lips, barely visible in the dim illumination of the street lantern. "I-I-I don't have a-any," I managed to stammer out through trembling lips, my voice barely above a whisper as tears continued to stream down my face, betraying my overwhelming fear. Before I could even comprehend their next move, they lunged forward, seizing my backpack from my grasp with ruthless efficiency. Despite my feeble attempts to resist, I found myself held down by unseen hands, rendered powerless by the shock that still held me captive in its grip. Helplessly, I watched as they emptied the contents of my backpack onto the cold pavement, their greedy hands sifting through my meager belongings with callous disregard. Each item strewn haphazardly before me served as a stark reminder of the fragility of my existence, a harsh testament to the cruelty of fate in a world that showed no mercy to the downtrodden. "HEY!" a voice suddenly pierced the tense air, echoing through the alleyway as the sound of running footsteps grew louder. "What's going on here? Leave her alone!" the voice thundered with authority, sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh shit, let's go," one of the figures muttered to the other, their panicked voices barely audible over the pounding of my heart. With swift movements, they fled towards the other end of the alley, their forms disappearing into the darkness as they vanished from sight. The mysterious man, who had come to my rescue, pursued them briefly before coming to a halt, realizing they were already out of reach. With a heavy exhale, he turned his attention back to me, his gaze softening as he took in the sight before him. I remained huddled atop my sleeping bag, my face buried in my knees which I clutched tightly to my chest. Shivers wracked my body as tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the remnants of fear that still lingered in the air. My meager belongings lay strewn around me, a pitiful testament to the vulnerability that had been laid bare in the face of danger. "Miss von Sterntal?" The words escaped the mysterious man's lips in a gasp of recognition, his hand instinctively rising to cover his mouth as he took in the sight before him. My eyes lifted for the first time, meeting his gaze, and the realization washed over me like a tidal wave. "John?" I spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Too many thoughts and feelings raced through my mind at once, leaving me reeling in the aftermath of the harrowing ordeal. In that moment, as our eyes locked in a silent exchange of understanding, the boundaries between us blurred, and I found myself clinging to the unexpected connection that had emerged between us in the midst of chaos. Chapter 3 - Luxury John crouched in front of me, his concern etched on his face. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" he asked, his voice gentle yet firm. I shook my head weakly, huddling closer to my knees on the sleeping bag. His eyes scanned the alleyway, taking in the scattered contents of my backpack. "Is this where you've been staying?" he inquired, his tone filled with both curiosity and concern. I nodded silently, feeling a rush of shame at the admission. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this," I murmured, unable to meet his gaze. "I'll just gather my things and leave." As I started to clumsily gather my belongings and was about to stand up from my spot, I noticed the puddle underneath me and the wet clammy feeling of my pants. I must've wet myself out of fear. My face blushed crimson as another pang of shame overcame me. My pace quickened in an effort to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. "Felicity, wait," John said as he gently grabbed my arm, preventing me from packing any further. "Feli," I corrected softly, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over me as I avoided his gaze. "I like Feli more," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his, noticing the genuine concern etched into his expression. He released my arm, realizing he had my attention. "Listen, Feli," John began, his eyes holding mine with a mix of gentleness and authority. "I don't know exactly what your deal is, but I can see you're down on your luck. And I'm sure you have nowhere else to go, right?" he continued, his tone soft yet probing. I nodded meekly, feeling a knot form in my stomach as he scratched the stubble on his chin, his gaze sweeping over the scene before us. "I don't like intruding," he admitted, and I couldn't help but chuckle softly at his remark, recalling our awkward encounter in the café. "But I can't leave a young girl like you out on the streets like this." I looked down, feeling a fresh wave of shame wash over me, making me feel even more vulnerable. "How about you come to my place for tonight? I've got a guest room where you can clean up and get some rest." His gaze fell on the puddle underneath me, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Does that sound good?" John asked, his voice tinged with concern. I hesitated for a moment, weighing my options. Despite my apprehension, the thought of a shower and a bed was too tempting to resist. I nodded meekly, realizing I had little choice but to trust him for now. With a sense of gratitude mingled with uncertainty, I allowed John to help me pack up my few belongings. Together, we made our way down the alley towards the street where a car was waiting for him, ready to take me to a place that was entirely unfamiliar yet offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness of the night. As we settled into the backseat of the car, the driver spoke up from the front. "Good evening, Mr. Harrington. Am I still bringing you back to your place?" he inquired, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "Yes, please bring us home, Chuck," John confirmed, his voice carrying a note of weariness. The level of wealth where you could afford your own personal driver wasn't foreign to me, but it had been quite a few years since I'd experienced it firsthand. I sighed softly as I slumped back into my seat, feeling the uncomfortable wetness of my pants clinging to me, the exhaustion of the encounter finally catching up with me. As we passed through the bustling streets of NYC, my head rested against the cool window, my gaze fixed on the vibrant lights of the nightlife swirling by in a blur of colors and motion. A mix of uncertainty and hope tugged at my mind, a feeling that had become all too familiar to me lately. Amidst the chaos of the city, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for me in this unexpected turn of events. We entered the underground garage, bidding farewell to Chuck as he drove off. The dimly lit space felt strangely quiet after the chaos of the city streets. Following John, we made our way to an elevator, and he pressed the topmost button. The realization dawned on me that John's wealth surpassed what I had initially assumed, a notion that left me both impressed and apprehensive. As we ascended in the elevator, a sense of awkwardness settled between us, the silence punctuated only by the soft hum of the machinery. Finally, the doors opened, revealing a narrow hallway with just one door at the end. A penthouse, I surmised, my heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. John opened the door, inviting me into a world I had thought I would never see again. "Make yourself at home," John said, leading us through a small entryway into a sprawling living space. My eyes widened in awe as I took in the grandeur of the room. A luxurious couch sat in front of a massive TV atop a faux fireplace, exuding an air of opulence. One wall was dominated by a floor-to-ceiling window, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. I couldn't help but grimace as I spotted my parents' skyscraper in the distance, a stark reminder of the world I had left behind. An archway led to a spacious kitchen and dining area on one side of the room, while a few steps ascended to a corridor on the other. John guided me down the corridor and opened the first door on his right, revealing the large guest room. A queen-size bed occupied one wall, with a TV mounted opposite and a dresser beneath. In one corner, an en-suite awaited, offering a welcome respite from the chaos of the streets. "There's shower gel, towels, and spare toothbrushes. Do you need anything else?" John asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I shook my head, still stunned by the luxury and overwhelmed with gratitude. "Alright, I'll let you get cleaned up then," he said, turning to leave before pausing. "Oh, and are you hungry?" My stomach growled involuntarily, betraying my hunger. I was about to decline, not wanting to impose, but John's grin softened my resolve. "I'll make some sandwiches. Just join me in the kitchen when you're done," he said, offering a glimmer of warmth in the midst of uncertainty. With that, he left the en-suite, closing the door behind him, leaving me to soak in the surreal reality of my surroundings. As the warm water cascaded over me in the shower, washing away the grime and weariness of the night, a sense of clarity began to seep back into my mind. "I guess now I have to at least hear him out on his offer," I mumbled to myself, the words echoing in the solitude of the bathroom. Stepping out of the shower, I dried myself off and donned a shirt and sweatpants from my backpack, feeling a semblance of comfort return with each familiar garment. With hesitant steps, I made my way towards the kitchen, where John sat at the dining table, enjoying a sandwich. An identical one sat on a plate opposite him, awaiting my arrival. I sat down, muttering a quiet "Thank you," before taking a bite of the sandwich, savoring the simple pleasure of a warm meal. As I ate, John began to speak, his voice calm yet determined. "Alright, here's the deal," he started, pausing between bites. "I'll let you stay the night and get some rest, and I'll be gone already when you wake up tomorrow." He continued, outlining my options for the following day. "Either you leave before I'm back from work, and I'll leave you alone from now on," he explained, his gaze searching mine for any hint of reaction. "Or you decide to stay and hear out my offer when I come home from work." I swallowed my bite of sandwich, considering his words carefully. "Why don't you just tell me about the offer right now?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. But John shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I can't," he replied firmly. "Not yet, at least. But I can tell you tomorrow evening. You're still free to decline once you've heard it, however." I nodded in understanding, realizing that there was more to this offer than met the eye. With a sense of anticipation tinged with apprehension, I finished my sandwich, knowing that the following day would bring with it a decision that could change the course of my life. "Go and get some rest," John commanded, his tone firm yet not unkind, as he cleared away our plates and brought them to the kitchen. I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine at his authoritative demeanor, but in the face of his generosity, I complied with his request nonetheless. As I settled into the plush comfort of the bed, the warmth enveloping me like a gentle embrace, I made a silent vow to myself. I wouldn't let fear or uncertainty hold me back any longer. I would hear him out the next day, whatever his offer may be. "I just really, really hope it's nothing sexual," I whispered to myself, the words lingering in the quiet of the room as I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with thoughts of the unknown future that awaited me. I woke up the next day, feeling surprisingly refreshed after a restful night's sleep. As I stretched and shook off the remnants of sleep, a sense of vitality surged through me. It had been a while since I had slept so well. Venturing out of the guest room, I found myself alone in the spacious apartment. John had already left, as he had promised. I made my way to the living room, drawn by the allure of the sprawling cityscape visible through the window. The sight of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper in the distance stirred a mix of emotions within me, a constant reminder of my past. "Make yourself at home," John's words echoed in my mind, and I resolved to do just that. Pushing aside the thoughts of my parents, I strode into the kitchen, where a delicious breakfast awaited me. The aroma of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, making my mouth water in anticipation. To my surprise, there was a small note waiting for me on the table. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back at 6. See you then! -J," it read, a simple yet thoughtful gesture. I couldn't help but wonder if John already knew that I would stay to hear him out. With gratitude in my heart, I sat down and began to savor the hearty breakfast, allowing myself to indulge in the simple pleasures of the moment, grateful for the warmth and hospitality that John had extended to me. As the hours passed by, I found myself unable to shake off the nervous anticipation that gripped me like a vice. Despite my initial intention to relax and enjoy the comforts of John's penthouse, the looming uncertainty of the evening weighed heavily on my mind. I tried to distract myself by flipping through channels on the TV, but my attention kept drifting back to the impending conversation with John. What could his offer possibly be? And more importantly, what would it mean for my future? With each passing minute, my nerves seemed to intensify, the unknown stretching out before me like an endless abyss. Despite my best efforts to quell my anxieties, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach, reminding me of the high stakes of the decision that awaited me. I was sprawled out on the couch, a large glass of juice sitting on the table in front of me when I heard the front door open. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was only 5 pm. Curious, I craned my neck to peer over the back of the couch toward the entryway, where a woman emerged carrying two bags of groceries. Our gazes met, and a moment of surprise passed between us. "Oh, hello, miss..." she began, expecting me to fill in the pause with my name. "Feli," I replied, offering a small smile. "Okay, Miss Feli, my apologies. I didn't know Mr. Harrington had a guest over," she continued, her tone polite yet curious. I chuckled softly at that. "It's just Feli," I clarified, feeling a pang of discomfort at the formalities. "That's short for Felicity." She nodded in understanding, her warm smile never faltering. "Who are you?" I questioned, returning the inquiry. "Call me Marge," she replied with a friendly smile, radiating a sense of maternal warmth. "I'm here to cook dinner for Mr. Harrington... and you, I guess?" she explained, her tone tinged with uncertainty. "I guess so," I replied with a shrug, watching as she excused herself to the kitchen to begin her work. As the minutes ticked by, I found it increasingly difficult to focus on the TV, my nerves getting the better of me. The tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen only served to heighten my anticipation, each passing moment feeling like an eternity. Then, at precisely 6:05 pm, the front door swung open once again. "Feli, I'm home," John called out, his voice carrying a sense of warmth and familiarity. I couldn't help but marvel at how confident he seemed that I would stay, a realization that brought a small smile to my lips as our gazes met. Despite my lingering nerves, I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the sight of him. His warm smile was infectious, filling me with a sense of comfort and reassurance. While uncertainty still loomed on the horizon, the curiosity about his offer outweighed any lingering apprehension. I returned his smile, genuinely happy to see him. As he made his way toward me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events that had led me here. Whatever lay ahead, I was determined not to miss out on the opportunity that lay before me, embracing the luxury and possibility that surrounded me in John's penthouse. Marge emerged from the kitchen just as John grabbed the TV remote and switched off the TV. "Did she behave?" he asked, his gaze directed at Marge. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as he spoke over my head about me. "Yes, Sir, Miss Feli behaved like an angel," Marge replied with a warm smile, her eyes flickering between John and me. We both chuckled at her formal address using my nickname, but I couldn't help but feel puzzled by their conversation. Why were they discussing my behavior as if I weren't in the room? And why did Marge feel the need to comment on it when we had barely interacted since she arrived? "Good to hear," John replied, grinning down at me with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that I had come to detest. "Dinner is served, Sir," Marge announced politely, breaking the momentary silence. "Thank you, Marge. You're excused," John replied, and Marge quickly gathered her things and left the penthouse. As John and I made our way toward the dining table, I couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that had settled over me, a feeling that this dinner would bring with it more than just good food and polite conversation. We ate in silence for a while, savoring the delicious meal that Marge had prepared for us. The flavors danced on my tongue, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget about the weight of the impending conversation. John broke the silence as he took a sip from his glass of wine, his expression warm and genuine. "I'm glad you decided to stay," he said, his smile reaching his eyes. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at his words. "Well, the least I could do is hear you out after you've been so nice to me," I mumbled back, my voice barely above a whisper. I took another forkful of the heavenly food, grateful for the distraction it provided from the nervous tension that lingered between us. As John returned with two sets of papers and a pen, my heart skipped a beat at the sight. The weight of the moment hit me like a ton of bricks, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Just moments ago, it had all felt like a dream, but now, faced with the official-looking documents in front of me, it was undeniably real. He sat down opposite me, presenting one set of papers while holding onto the other. I could feel the tension in the air as he explained, "This is an NDA, a Non-Disclosure Agreement you need to sign. Once you've signed this, I can sue you if you tell anyone about what you're going to hear today. Marge also had to sign one before working for me." My throat went dry as I glanced over the paper, knowing full well the gravity of what I was about to agree to. I knew I needed to read it thoroughly before putting pen to paper. Skimming through the document, I confirmed that it was indeed just an NDA, outlining the terms of confidentiality regarding the information I was about to receive. Satisfied that I understood its contents, I took a deep breath and put my signature at the bottom of the page. Looking up at John expectantly, I braced myself for whatever revelation awaited me. As John placed the other set of papers in front of me, I felt a surge of apprehension coursing through me. But before I could even glance at the documents, he kept his hand on them and locked eyes with me, his gaze warm and sincere. "Now that you've signed the NDA, I can tell you about the offer," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of anticipation. My heart hammered in my chest, and I could feel the nervous energy building inside me as I awaited his next words. "Long story short: I want you to become my baby for a month," he stated, the words hanging in the air between us like an electric charge. My mind reeled at the unexpectedness of his proposition, and I struggled to comprehend the full implications of what he was suggesting.
  14. This story takes place a couple of months after Keeping Secrets. It's hard for me to tell, but I don't think it's necessary to read the previous story to enjoy this one, but if you want to read about how Tracy and Kat met, that's where to go. And as always, I will be updating the tags as the different parts are posted to avoid spoilers. -------------- Mission Improbable (Part 1 of 13) "Shit!" Tracy looked out of the window of her van. Big, fat raindrops splattered against the windscreen. "What's the matter Häschen?" Kat's voice on the other end of the phone line asked. "Rain. "That's going to make flying harder." A single one of those big drops could upset the balance of Tracy's little drone. It would also make audio surveillance next to impossible. Lightning flashed somewhere behind the car, illuminating the trees in front of the car briefly. The thunder that followed only moments later drowned out whatever Kat said. "What was that?" Tracy put Kat on speaker while she climbed around the seats to the back of the van. "I said 'just be careful'. I wouldn't want to take care of a zapped, little bunny. You're fussy enough when you're just wet." Tracy felt a blush creep up her neck. "Kat," Tracy pleaded, the whining tone painfully clear even to herself. God, I sound like a four-year-old. "Oh come on," Kat said. "It's not like there's anyone else in your car with you." "How do you know?" "Well, is there?" "No," Tracy admitted. She was struggling to find the neck hole inside her dark grey rain poncho. The stiff plastic of the poncho crackled slightly with static electricity as she pulled it down. The mesh of hair-thin metal wires inside the plastic would hide and distort Tracy's heat signature, making her much harder to see with infra-red cameras. She wasn't expecting anybody to be using that, but if she had to be somewhere in person, she was not going to take any chances. Tracy picked the phone up from the suitcase holding most of her surveillance gear. "Anyway, are you doing anything tonight?" Tracy didn't actually hold her breath; at least not physically. She always felt awkward asking if Kat was free. Asking a dominatrix if she's working felt to Tracy like asking 'are you fucking someone'. It wasn't like she was jealous when Kat was seeing clients. Well, maybe a little. She knew what she was getting into when she and Kat started... dating? No, that wasn't the word she'd use. Maybe 'seeing each other'? No, that didn't seem right either. They weren't two high-schoolers making out between classes. 'Sleeping together' didn't feel right either, although it was true in the most literal sense. Tracy was so lost in her search for the right term that she missed Kat's answer. She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts. "What was that? You dropped out there for a second," Tracy bluffed. "I said I have a client all night. Sorry." Tracy sighed. "Okay." She had hoped that she could snuggle up to Kat after having had to be out in the rain. Even if it was only for a few hours. Sleeping like that was so much more restful than sleeping alone. "Aww. Were you hoping for some snuggles after you were done?" Tracy suddenly realised something. "All night, you said? Are they there now?" "Relax Häschen. It's not like they can hear you." "Still, you know I hate it when we talk like this when you have other people there." "You didn't seem to mind last week when Jessie and Uncle Dieter had us over for dinner." Tracy sighed again, almost rolling her eyes at Kat. "That's different and you know it. They think we're... you know, dating." Tracy cringed at the word. It wasn't like they hadn't gone on dates. But there was a big difference between 'going on dates' and 'dating'. At least in Tracy's mind. "We can have breakfast," Kat suggested. "Or maybe lunch. I don't know how late it'll be before I get some sleep." "Mmm-yeah. Breakfast sounds nice. Surprise me." Tracy knew that Kat could hear her smile. "Do you want me to wear my..." Tracy hesitated, "you know..." Kat laughed. "You can say 'diaper' Häschen. It iss not a naughty verd." She said the last sentence with an exaggerated German accent that made Tracy smile. "I know. It just feels weird to say it." "You know, it's funny. You have more trouble saying the word than you have actually wearing them." "Yeah, yeah. It's hilarious," Tracy said dismissively. "Scheiße, I have to go," Kat said as there was some noise in the background that Tracy couldn't identify. "Tomorrow, wear your diapers if you want to. Or not. We'll figure something out. Bye." "Uh, bye," Tracy said, but Kat had already hung up. "...I guess." She put away the phone and opened the car door, looking out into the downpour. Even before stepping outside, she imagined she could feel a greasy trickle down the back of her neck. Tracy grabbed her camera and checked the batteries. Almost fully charged. Before she slipped the strap over her head, Tracy made sure the waterproof casing was properly closed. Wouldn't want foggy lenses that I can't reach. Tracy stepped out of the van and found herself ankle-deep in a puddle that hadn't been there when she parked. "Damn." Tracy stepped out of the puddle and shook her feet to get some of the water out of her shoes. "Not exactly the greatest start," she said to no-one in particular. Grabbing a black, plastic briefcase and a small tripod, Tracy closed the door and locked it. The alarm activated with a quiet chirp. Then she trudged off into the bushes. Half an hour later, Tracy was in place. She was crouching in a bush halfway up a small hill. Below her was a footpath with a metal bench and a trash can with a couple of impressive dents. Tracy absent-mindedly wondered what could have made the dents. They looked too big to be from bikes, but the footpath was too narrow and twisting for cars. ATVs maybe? Tracy checked her watch: A quarter to one. In fifteen minutes, that trash can was going to be one of the richest trash cans in the city. Tracy shifted her weight, moving her knee out of the small brook that had appeared only minutes after she had settled down in her bush. Her mind drifted back to earlier that day. *** Tracy had been in her office, working on the final report to a client when there was a quiet knock on the door. Tracy checked the camera outside the door. Kat had insisted she install the camera and reinforce the office door after a case had gone badly, in a death-threat kind of way a couple of months earlier. Outside the door was a woman and man. They didn't look like a threat, so Tracy pressed the button to unlock the door. The lock buzzed and clicked and after a few moments, the couple entered. Tracy pushed her keyboard aside and motioned to the chairs in front of the desk. "Please, have a seat." Tracy found her trusty notepad and pencil. Then she pushed the phone to the middle of the desk. "You don't mind if I record this..." Tracy paused and studied the couple for a few moments. The man was sitting with his eyes lowered, turned slightly towards the woman, who in turn was sitting back in the chair with her legs crossed, looking relaxed and confident. Tracy figured that she was the one in charge. "... Ms? "Wilford," the woman said. "Nalah Wilford. And I'd rather you didn't. I don't want any of this coming out." "It's only to help my note-taking, but if you're uncomfortable with it..." Tracy picked up her phone and put it away. "OK Ms. Wilford, what's the problem?" Tracy tried to sound professional. "Marc here fucked up," She answered matter-of-factly. Tracy looked from one to the other and back and again. "I'm going to need a little more details than that." Ms. Wilford looked coolly at Marc. "Well? Tell her what you did." "There was this email, and I thought it was from Miss Nalah and I clicked on the link in it and-" "And the idiot opened a back-door into the system. Look, I couldn't care less that they hijacked his webcam and caught him undressing and getting into position for me under the desk in my office." "I-" Tracy began, a little taken aback. "I do, however, care that they caught me on camera as well. And as if that wasn't enough, they encrypted the entire system, locking us out." "And let me guess, they want money to unlock the system and not release the video." "Yeah, fifteen thousand." Ms. Wilford said it like it was more an annoyance than a serious sum of money. "Not to point out the obvious, but isn't this a police matter? Or at the very least, your IT department? Why hire someone like me?" "If we use yesterday's backups we lose all the logs from a crucial deposition, plus we'd look incompetent." Ms. Wilford glared at Marc. "And going to the police wouldn't get the files back in time for the trial either. I figured the simplest solution is to just pay them." "Okay? But then why hire me?" "Don't get me wrong, I'm not OK with what happened. I want you to find out who did this so I can make them regret it. And as for why you specifically? You came highly recommended from a business associate of mine. A Mrs Devereux?" "I see," Tracy said, trying to sound neutral since she didn't know how much Ms. Wilford knew about the case in question. "So, fifteen thousand. I'm assuming they didn't want to meet in some back alley with a suitcase full of cash." "Unfortunately not. They wanted the money in some stupid cryptocurrency, Ding-Dough, on a thumb drive, and they wanted Marc to drop it off at a specific location at 1 am. tonight." "So, in..." Tracy checked her watch, "...eleven hours or so. I'm assuming they gave the whole 'don't contact the police' warning or something like that. Will getting the money be a problem?" Ms. Wilford shook her head. Tracy put down her pencil. "Well, since they've been smart about the money, our best bet is probably to follow the actual thumb drive once your husband makes the drop and hopefully identify the blackmailers that way." "Oh please! Like I'd marry him." Ms. Wilford rolled her eyes. "I deal with enough fucked-up marriages at work. Marc's my personal assistant." And your executive stress relief toy, it sounds like. Tracy opened her desk drawer and rooted around in it for a couple of seconds before bringing out a bright yellow thumb drive. "Use this for the money," she said and handed it to Ms. Wilford. "Now, this is a rush job so I'm going to have to charge extra." "I expected as much. Camille told me the rates you charged her; I'll double it." That was more than Tracy had been planning on charging, so she simply nodded. "I also have a couple more conditions. First of all: My job is to follow the thumb drive, or the information on it, to the blackmailers without them realising it. That is, until they've given you the password to unlock your system. So until that happens, you're going to follow the blackmailer's instructions to the letter. Agreed? "Sounds reasonable." "Also, whatever you're planning for whoever did this, I'm not involved. Once I've identified the blackmailers, my job is over." "I wouldn't have it any other way." Ms. Wilford's smile sent a chill down Tracy's spine. It was like a cat watching a canary with a broken wing. Tracy decided she didn't want to get on Ms. Wilford's bad side. They spent the next twenty minutes getting all the details Tracy felt she needed. After Ms. Wilford and Marc had left, Tracy started planning. She would park a drone by the drop and follow whoever came to pick it up. Tracy opened the box of drones and checked the battery levels of the one with the best range. It only had a basic camera and microphone, but it was small enough to escape notice. After checking the map of the park where the drop-off was, she found that the drone should be able to follow the thumb drive to any of the parking lots in the immediate area. After that, it was just a matter of recording the licence plate and the traffic cameras would do the rest of the job for her. The thumb drive even had a tracker that she could activate remotely in case she lost track of it. If whoever picked it up scanned the drive for bugs, they wouldn't find it until it was too late. Tracy had to admit that she had a similar tracker on her car keys and that she had had to use it more than once. Content that all the technical preparations were done, Tracy went to bed. If she was going to pull an all-nighter, she should start out well rested. *** Movement on the path below brought Tracy back to the present. Somebody halfway hidden by a big, green and white golf umbrella, approached the bench. It was Marc. He looked around nervously. "Come on," Tracy mouthed silently. "Don't get creative. Just make the delivery and walk away." Marc fumbled in his pocket and brought out Tracy's yellow thumb drive. Tracy zoomed in on Marc with her camera as he kept fiddling with the thumb drive. He was turned halfway away from her so she couldn't see exactly what he was doing. "Come on," Tracy kept whispering inaudibly. "Be a good, little executive fuck toy and do what you're supposed to." As though he had heard her, Marc turned and looked in Tracy's direction. She froze, trusting her poncho, the darkness and the distance to hide her. That, and the fact that she had told Marc and Ms. Wilford she would be using her drones to track the drive. Eventually Marc looked away. Tracy slowly brought her hand back to her camera and zoomed out a little, letting it catch the area surrounding the bench. Eventually Marc stopped looking around. He looked down to his hand where the thumb drive was before tossing it into the trash can. Then he hurried off down the path where he had come from. Then there was just the almost sizzling, white noise of the rain pouring down. Tracy imagined she could hear a plink, plink whenever the faint, yellow street light flickered, but other than that, nothing happened. Suddenly, there was a flash and an almost immediate, deafening crash of thunder as the lightning struck somewhere nearby. Tracy thought she could see something in the bushes by the footpath. She switched the camera to thermographic, turning everything dark grey and black; everything except the bright heat bloom of somebody hiding in one of the bushes. "Now what do we have here?" She zoomed in, trying to get a good picture. Unfortunately, thermographics was never made for identification purposes, so the face remained an unrecognisable white blur. Tracy was so focused on the person in the bushes that she almost missed the movement by the trash can. Tracy turned the camera back and switched off the thermographics when she saw no heat signatures. Something reminiscent of a bug the size of a small plate was scuttling out of the trash, holding Tracy's thumb drive in its pincers. It fell from the opening, but instead of hitting the ground, it rose with the unmistakable whine of high-speed rotors. Shit, they're using a drone for the pickup. Tracy fumbled in her pocket for the remote control for the tracker. She pressed the button and the little light on the remote switched from red to a blinking yellow. "What the..." Tracy pressed the button again, but the light stubbornly refused to change to green. "Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit." Tracy reached for the briefcase on the ground next to her. She opened it and lifted the largest of her camera drones out from its foam housing. Unlike its smaller cousins, this one was capable of operating without Tracy having to steer it manually. In one fluid motion, Tracy switched it on and threw it up in the air. The rotors started up almost immediately and it rose up with a buzzing sound like the world's biggest wasp. Tracy had programmed it to follow the signal from the thumb drive, and failing that, it would try to track movement below. The amount of rain, however, made the latter option a long shot. She pressed the button on the remote one more time, but the light still didn't turn green. "So much for plan B," Tracy grumbled. She rose, leaving the briefcase and tripod with the camera, and ran down the hill towards the person hiding in the bushes. Whoever they were, they were her last chance of finding out what was going on. Tracy half ran, half slid down the hill, branches and twigs scratching noisily against her poncho. The figure in the bushes looked in her direction, obviously having heard her. There was a flash and a sharp crack of thunder. No, not thunder. A gunshot. The fucker's shooting at me? Tracy wanted to turn around, or hide behind something, anything. But her legs, apparently having made a deal with her momentum, just kept going. There was another shot, the bullet hitting the trash can with a metallic clunk. The figure turned and tried to run, but slipped on the mud and fell. The gun landed in a puddle, out of reach of both of them. Tracy dove forward, landing with her elbow in the man's stomach in a move that would have made a pro wrestler proud. The man folded up, coughing and moaning. Tracy picked herself up and was about to give him a kick when she recognised him. "Marc?!?" Marc was too busy gasping for breath to answer. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Help-helping Mistress Nalah," he wheezed. Tracy had a sinking feeling. "What did you do?" Marc rolled over on his side and tried to sit up. "Tracking bug," he coughed, "on... on the drive." "Gimme." "Wha...?" Marc asked with a bewildered look. "The bug tracker. Now!" Tracy demanded, trying to sound extra bossy in the hopes it would speed things up. Marc fumbled in his pockets and held out a small, cracked, plastic rectangle. Tracy grabbed it, noting the silver company logo above the small screen. TeraTech Electronics: Fantastic range, but shitty transmitter shielding. That could explain my tracking problems. Tracy left Marc in the mud and ran back towards her equipment. "Call 'client one'," Tracy told her phone as she struggled up the slippery slope. Ms. Wilford answered almost immediately. "Yes?" "Bullit here. Is the money still there?" "Yes, it's still all here," Ms. Wilford started. "No, wait. They just moved it." "Password?" Tracy suppressed a curse as she slipped and almost fell. "Not yet. Do you have them?" "No. Still working on it," Tracy said between gasps of breath as she reached the briefcase and knelt down next to it. "There was a complication. I'll call you back." Tracy hung up and pulled out her pocket knife. She used the screwdriver to pry open the casing of Marc's tracker, cutting a small gash in her hand when it slipped. Ignoring the stinging, Tracy examined the circuitry inside, quickly finding the receiver and reading its frequency from the little sticker on it. She dropped the tracker and grabbed the drone remote. The screen showed a map of the park and the drone's search pattern. Tracy input the new tracking frequency and the drone immediately picked it up, abandoning its previous pattern and homing in on its new signal. Tracy's phone rang. "What do you mean 'There was a complication'?" Ms. Wilford asked sharply when Tracy picked up. "I thought we agreed that you were to follow the drop-off instructions, or did I misunderstand something?" Tracy glanced back down to where she had left Marc, but he was gone. "Yeah, that's the deal." "So what's the deal with Marc sabotaging my plans by putting a cheap and obvious bug on my thumb drive?" "He did WHAT?!? Where is that little fucker? Is he still there? Marc! If you can hear this, don't bother coming to work tomorrow!" There was a beep from Tracy's remote control indicating that the drone was approaching its target. Tracy switched from the map to the camera view and the small screen showed a parking lot. There were maybe a dozen cars; no lights or movement. "Look, I still have a couple of tricks up my sleeve. With a little luck, whoever they are didn't notice Marc's bug, or if they did, they're going to be greedy and ask for more since you tried to track the drive. Either way, we still have a shot at finding them. it's just going to be a little trickier and take a little longer." "Just. Find. Them." Ms. Wilford hung up. Tracy left the drone in a holding pattern above the lot and picked up her equipment. Marc had already scurried off to wherever he stayed when he wasn't under Ms. Wilford's desk, leaving the gun in the puddle where he had dropped it. Tracy picked it up before heading for the car. She didn't like guns, but leaving it for someone else to find wasn't an option. Too many irresponsible idiots running around; and not just Marc. By the time Tracy reached the car, she was panting and sweating, cursing the poncho for trapping so much of her body heat. She put the camera and the drone remote on the passenger seat. Then she pulled off the poncho and threw it in the back along with the empty briefcase. For a little while, she just stood there, letting the rain cool her down. Then, before she got too wet, she got in and started the engine. The drive to the parking lot didn't take long; maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Tracy's attention was divided between the road, which was wet and slippery, but thankfully empty, and the screen showing her drone's bird's eye view of the parking lot. Only one car had left the lot since she started driving, and she had a good picture of the car and its licence plates. Hopefully the cameras in the area would help her get a picture of the driver. The thumb drive still hadn't moved, but Tracy hadn't had time to check if the car, or its driver, had been anywhere near it. Tracy picked up her camera and used it to quickly scan the lot. No heat sources; human or engines. As the drone slowly descended, Tracy saw the thumb drive in a puddle. She got out and carefully picked it up. To Marc's credit, the tracker dot that he'd put on on the drive at least matched its colour, but it was still obvious if you knew what to look for. And Tracy had no reason to think the blackmailers didn't. They had been smart about avoiding identification; cryptocurrency payment, drone pickup and quick transfer of the money. So Tracy doubted there would be fingerprints on the drive, but maybe she was lucky and they had screwed up. She put it in a paper bag and put the paper bag in a plastic box of rice she kept in the car precisely to dry out wet electronics. Even if there weren't physical fingerprints, there would be electronic ones. Tracy picked up the drone and put it in the back of her van before climbing in herself. She started the computer and began scanning for available wifi networks. Again, Tracy doubted that the blackmailers would have used an open network when they transferred the money, but at the moment, long shots was pretty much all she had. Thanks a lot, Marc. At least there weren't too many networks in the area. Tracy shuddered to think what the list would have looked like if this had happened downtown. Since pretty much everything in the area was closed for the night, there shouldn't be too much computer traffic to sort through. Tracy loaded a sniffer program to copy the details about the last twenty minute's traffic on the open networks. She noted down the names and details of the protected networks so she could come back the next day to check them out. She debated whether she should have the last can of energy drinks while driving home. On the one hand, it was late and drinking it might keep her up even later, but on the other hand, she was thirsty and really tired. The adrenaline rush of tackling Marc had been a great pick-me-up, but the problem was that as soon as it wore off, it seemed to take with it all the caffeine stored in her system. Concern for her fellow drivers won, and at the next red light, Tracy opened the can and emptied it before the light turned green. She grimaced at the taste. She would have preferred the original what-our-chemical-engineers-think-strawberries-taste-like flavour, but the store had been sold out and all they had had left were the we'll-pretend-this-tastes-like-kiwi-but-all-you-get-is-a-furry-tongue flavoured ones. But caffeine was caffeine, and hopefully, drinking it on an empty stomach would mean that it'd kick in quickly. By the time Tracy reached home, she had gone through most of what she called the energy drink caffeine cycle. She had seen individual air molecules vibrating, had tingly fingers and a pounding pulse. Now she was crashing; her stomach was grumbling and her brain itched. She parked in the parking garage across the street and made her way back to the office, being eternally thankful for her landlord having fixed the elevator. Tracy stumbled through the door. It was a struggle to even open the boxes with her equipment so it would dry while she slept. There was only one thing she wanted to do before getting out of her damp clothes and falling into bed. Tracy opened her fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. She knew better than going to bed thirsty. She peeled off her clothes, lay back on the bed and put on a diaper before wrapping herself in her blanket. After all, she also knew better than going to sleep with a rapidly filling bladder without taking some precautions. ***
  15. Elizabeth or lizzie for short is a coo of a bank but the stress she is under at work is unbelievable. She decides to posh a ad online to find someone who will take care of her. What they don't know is that she is a adult baby.
  16. Luna’s predicament Fulgrim Prologue It all began with a flash,then a boom, and finally an infinity of sensations once forgotten came like a tsunami to Luna after the banishing of nightmare moon. Things like breathing, coldness and tiredness came crushing to the poor princess, now finally free from that curse born from ancient hate. Alas she was free, Free, but she didn't have much time to ponder as she succumbed to exhaustion. ________________________________________ “This is it ?” said twilight exhausted from such extraneous activities “Yes it is” said Celestia in her usual optimistic tone “But, I don't understand ?” said twilight confused Were once stood a mighty foe,now was but a little filly “Magic and alicorn biology are things truly mysterious,I didn't know what her banishment and subsequent exorcism would entail… such a predicament.”She said now stoically “So what now ?” Said twilight wishing to go to bed, of course not before reading a 50 page essay about Blue eucalyptus lilies. “Now it is high time me and my little sister go home” Now a bright, brighter than the brightest of suns adorning her mouth. ________________________________________ Now Celestia began her journey to her palace, now with an added package in the form of her little sister. Whilst for her subjects a restful night was ahead of them, for the princess of the sun, the night had just begun, as she had now to prepare everything for the reintroduction of her sister. From a room to rest, medical staff to attend to her wounds, tutors to teach her all the things she missed during 1000 years, to a hundred other little things. Indeed things were going to be quite occupied for the bearer of the sun, but she was genuinely happy over the development of the affair, and whilst she was preoccupied about the predicament of her sister, she could do nothing to change it, indeed it was a good night. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sooooooo the prologue to my first ever kink story, yay i suppose, just to be clear i don't know how long this whole affair will be but hey, who cares? Thanks for reading and have a goodnight. Chapter 1
  17. Now available on Amazon with a preview of Volume 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SP7Q3WD Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1071417185 _______________________________________ Chapter 1 “So why are you here?” She smiled when she said it; you could tell it was routine, the first question she always asked, and the smile was just good service. Staring across the desk, slumped in his chair, not sure where to put his hands or how to answer and preserve some pride, Eric didn’t respond right away. “I guess … I just don’t want to be here anymore,” Eric replied while keeping his eyes on the desk. Cheryl was used to this. Not many people who came to an adoption center wanted to talk about it. Except the exhibitionists; they wouldn’t stop talking about it, but it was obvious from his body language and mumbling tone that Eric wasn’t here for any of those reasons. “I understand, honey,” Cheryl said, softening her voice, “a lot of people feel that way. Can I ask you some questions about how you feel?” Eric knew what coming; he’d asked the same questions himself more times than he cared to remembered. He nodded. “Do you feel like hurting yourself?” “No.” Flat, matter of fact, and truthful. “Have you ever felt like hurting yourself?” “No.” “Do you feel like hurting someone else?” “No.” Have you ever felt like hurting someone else?” “No.” Cheryl ticked off boxes on her iPad while Eric waited patiently. “I’m so glad to hear that. Can I ask a few more?” She didn’t pause for him to answer. “Have you ever been diagnosed with any of the following? Bipolar disorder, Schizophrenia, Depression, Anxiety, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Personality Disorder, Dissociative disorder?” “Just depression and anxiety,” Eric said as he pushed back in his chair and exhaled. He’d been with depression for eight years and had this conversation with every new doctor and therapist he’d been to in that time. It was boring. Before Cheryl could get her next word out, Eric answered her next question. “I’m taking 150mg of Bupropion once a day and Xanax as needed. I’ve was seeing a therapist every other week until about 6 months ago. Her names is in the paperwork I brought with me. I’d say my depression and anxiety are both well controlled.” “Good,” she said, “That’s all good. Do you mind if I call your therapist to talk with her?” “No, that’s fine.” “Good. I need to be sure your decision isn’t being influenced by your depression or anxiety. So, back to what you were saying earlier, you ‘don’t want to be here anymore.’ Can you tell me more about that?” Cheryl leaned forward, trying to help Eric engage. “I’m work for the county…I’m a social worker…” Cheryl was practiced at this. Nod, say nothing, the client will fill the silence when they’re ready. “I … I …” Eric sucked in air and held back a sob. “I just can’t stay here anymore. I can’t … keep doing this.” Cheryl pushed her box of tissues toward Eric, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a cotton handkerchief. Dabbing at his eyes, he said started again. “Kenard Bering was my client. You probably didn’t hear about that. Good kid, not a trouble maker; wasn’t going to be any project to Harvard story, but he was on track, ya know. And he gets shot over a fucking cellphone.” Tears dripped, and Eric occasional wiped them away as he fell into a soliloquy: “Second kid in a year killed ……………. Dies at school from a fucking asthma attack. When’s the last time you heard of anyone dying from a fucking asthma attack ……………. And this asshole cop says to this 14 year old, ‘well, what are you doing to make your mother hit you? I couldn’t believe it, I … who the fuck says that or even thinks that way? How do you send a kid home who doesn’t want to go home? ……………. Burned ……………. Dropped out ……………. Caught with a weapon his mother game him. And that was after she beat him for losing a fight ……………. But so what if he graduates, right? ‘Cause it’s not like there’s anything but a mop or an apron waiting for him out there ……………. Left her kid to sit in his own shit while she went to get high and doesn’t even tell the cop the kid is home alone ……………. Jail ……………. 12 years old and pregnant and bipolar and both parents on drugs – what can I even do for that? ……………. He had priors ……………. I lost him to the pipeline ……………. Caught out on a corner ……………. Neighborhood says the cops did it ……………. ……………. ……………. ……………. …………….” Eric had stopped crying. He wasn’t sad. He was angry and disgusted and indignant. “For every one I save, whatever that means, there’s five I don’t. It’s like watching a never ending catastrophe and it rips my guts out every time.” Tired now, he slumped back in his chair, “Everyone said give it a year, you’ll get hardened to it. And I never did. Eight years, never gets better, never gets worse. It just is. And I can’t do it anymore. I can’t see it anymore.” Cheryl nodded her, “Uh huh…” waiting to see if Eric had more to say. When she thought he was done, she asked, “That sounds very hard for you. Can you tell me, though, why go to the other dimension? That’s pretty drastic; couldn’t you just change jobs?” “No,” Eric answered, “Because I know it’s all out there. I can’t live with myself if I quit. Or at least I can’t do it here.” That made sense to her. A sad kind of sense. Eric sounded like the kind of person there are too few of, but those qualities that made him so valuable to everyone else were the same qualities that made him so unhappy. Classic burnout. It wasn’t the first time Cheryl had seen this in a client, but it was obviously the worst, and she understood how Eric could believe there would never be an end to it if he stayed. He might even be right, she thought. “Eric, I’m going to be very frank with you. The dimension is more like our world than a lot of people want to admit. In some ways, it’s much, much worse, the way they treat people like us. It’s different in different countries, but in some of them we’re not seen as people. If you’ve heard anyone compare it to slavery and torture, they weren’t wrong. How does that make you feel?” Eric wasn’t surprised. He’d heard it all. It was right there in the web forums: kidnapping, mutilation, mind alteration. Even “Island of Dr. Moreau.” “I know,” Eric replied. “That’s why I came here and not some other place.” “Because you know we only work with people who live in Itali?” “Yeah.” “Well, that was smart of you. Some people get impatient and will go anywhere, or just go somewhere in the dimension and take their chances. You seem like someone who does his research, but I just want to tell you some things to separate fact from fiction: · Itali only permits adoptions through license agencies like ours, and they only adopt direct from our dimension to Itali. Not from any of the other countries there. · While humans can live there independently with the same rights at Bigs, if you adopt yourself out, you’ll have the same rights as a minor there. Anything that is permissible for a Big to do to their own children can be done to you. Anything that is impermissible for a Big to do to their own children cannot be done to you. · You can select the stage of life you wish to begin with as a Little: newborn, infant or toddler. Those are the only choices. That is binding on the Bigs who adopt from us. However, they retain the right to decide the details associated with your stage of life, which may vary from your expectations. Whether and at what pace you progress through life stages, and what point, if any, you stop progressing, is up to the Big. If you choose or consent to it, your Big may further regress you from your current stage at any time. · You’ll notice we call them Bigs. They call us Littles. ‘Amazon’ is a pejorative there. · There’s no amending the adoption agreement. It says what it says. We can make your wishes known to prospective parents, but they can break any promise they make. But we don’t adopt out to just anyone. We thoroughly inspect all of our clients. We wouldn’t work with them if we believed they were bad people. · Our adoption agreement prohibits the following: o Involuntary physical or mental alteration o Giving, selling, or trading Littles o Having custody of any Little not adopted through an agency licensed in Itali o Violations of any Itali laws; suspicion of violations to be investigated, with a preponderance of evidence sufficient to be considered a violation of this agreement o Withholding or unduly delaying adequate medical care o Abuse, neglect, or negligence as defined by The Agency; suspicion of abuse, neglect, or negligence to be investigated, with a preponderance of evidence sufficient to be considered a violation of this agreement o Traveling with the Little to, or sending the Little to, any country where any of the above are not expressly forbidden by law · We have offices in Itali that conduct surprise inspections and work with the authorities there. If they find any violation of the adoption agreement, under the treaty permitting inter-dimensional adoptions between us and Itali, the police are required by law take you into their custody and return you to us. · Unless your parents violate the adoption agreement, you must remain with them as their Little for 10 years. You can asked to be returned to us, but they are not obligated to comply. Conversely, they can return you to us whenever they choose. At the end of those 10 years, you can decide to stay their Little, return to us, or remain in Itali as a full and independent citizen. · Your property and assets with be placed in a trust our non-profit partner manages. If choose to return to us or to become an independent citizen after 10 years, your property will be returned to you less the what we spend eliminating any remaining debt you have here. If you choose to stay a Little after 10 years, your assets, property, and any interest are liquidated, the revenue will be used to pay off your debt, and anything left over will be donated to fund the non-profit. I just want to remind you that Itali is like here; there are good people and bad people. We only work with good, but if you’re looking for a Utopia, that’s not Itali. Does all that make sense? Do you have any questions?” “No. Well, I guess yeah – what happens next,” Eric asked. Eric was familiar with provisions like these. It was part of his job, dealing with foster parents and adoptions. This aligned closely to the laws of he was used to dealing with. He made a lot of those inspections over the years himself. “I know that was a lot to take in,” Cheryl answered, “It’s all in the paperwork I’m going to send you home with. If you have any questions, please reach out to me, and we will be testing you to ensure you read and understood the adoption agreement before we approve you for adoption. So next I’m going to process all the information on those forms we asked you to bring in, then I’m going to call you doctors and last therapist. Our compliance department is going to run the background check you’re allowing us to do, and that includes all of your financial history so we know what we’re taking on when if you decide to move forward. Once that’s done, I’ll be in touch. It usually takes about 10 days for the average person. I’m guessing because of your job you’re going to appear in a lot of court records, so it may take longer. And in the meantime you just go about your life like normal. Don’t make any drastic decisions; don’t go on a spending spree; don’t do anything dangerous or stupid. Anything like that has the potential to cause us to reject your application. If you have any questions, you can call me or one of our licensed therapists – I really encourage everyone to do that anyway. And if at any time you change your mind and want to just forget this, we can do that, too; everything here is confidential, and all your records will be destroyed. Do you have any more questions right now?” With her monologue done, Eric thought for a moment. It was a lot to take in, and even though he was far from the end of it, everything seemed very real now. “Uh, not a question really. Can I tell you one thing I’m looking for in a Big,” Eric asked. “Of course.” Eric felt sheepish. He’d thought about this a lot, and he was embarrassed by it, as if this entire thing weren’t embarrassing. “I don’t know what life stage I want to start at, but, uh, can you, um, put it in my file that I don’t think I ever want to grow up again?” “I can’t promise your Big would abide by that, but I will put it in your file, and we’ll try do our best to find a Big who wants the same as you. Anything else?” “No,” Eric said as he stood up and stuck his hand out. “Thank you for your help. I’ll do all the things you said.” “Thank you for coming in today,” Cheryl replied as she shook Eric’s hand. As Eric reached the door, Cheryl felt compelled to add, “Eric, we’re going to make sure everything turns out right for you. I’ll make sure. And while all this is going on, please … just try to take care of yourself … for me.” Eric nodded and left. Cheryl liked Eric. She had a soft spot for people who had soft spots, and she knew people like Eric were worth protecting. We need more people like him in this world, Cheryl thought, but he needs something else. She understood why Eric wanted to be with a Big who didn’t want him to grow up: so he’d never have to see the kinds of things he saw everyday here. Returning to her desk, Erica started taking in on her notes for the file: Eric is 29 years old and suffers from depression and anxiety which are well controlled with medication … overwhelmed by work and the suffering he sees in the world … is educated and intelligent … is a sensitive and kind person … appears physically healthy … exhibits signs of PTSD, though he has not been diagnosed, and may benefit from therapy post-adoption … will likely need substantial emotional support ... did not admit to any fetish as a motivator .. may have trouble adapting ... desires to NOT progress from initial stage of life … will likely match best with a female head of household looking to dote on her Little and who has a large support network …
  18. Marta

    colored day.jpg

    From the album: Wash and Dry

    © Marta

  19. Marta

    white day.jpg

    From the album: Wash and Dry

    © Marta

  20. 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.
  21. Let me preface this topic by saying I am not a writer, but I've read quite a lot of stories on here as well as pretty much every other website that provides ABDL or similarly themed stories, in German as well as English. Thus there may be themes and plotlines in this work that are inspired by other works out there, as that is pretty much unavoidable. However I will try my best to ultimately still keep this story original in the end. Since I have pretty much zero experience in actually writing stories, but am quite versed in prompt engineering AIs, I decided to try out how far I can get to writing an actually enjoyable and consistent novel by relying heavily on AI assistance. I checked the pinned posts in this forum and did not find any rules regarding AI assisted/generated stories, so I hope I'm not breaking any rules. If I do, my apologies. Of ourse I'm heavily aware of the limitations of current, publicy available language models and for the sake of transparency I'm going to briefly explain my approach here. I use two instances of the free version of ChatGPT running on GPT-3.5. The first one I feed with precise outlines of what I want to happen and it responds with a handful of paragraphs at a time. Due to limitations in the conext size and the size of the responses it can't generate full chapters at once, even though those would be more consistent on their own., however with my approach of feeding it prompts bit by bit I have more control about the content. I still need to go through each paragraph however, rearrange them sometimes and fix minor consistency issues. Every now and then there will also be sentences and the odd paragraph in there that I had to fully write on my own, as ChatGPT was not cooperating to produce what I wanted. I really hope those do not stand out however and there is no discernible difference in quality of writing. After I finish a chapter I then feed it into a second instance of ChatGPT, which sole purpose is to extract knowledge and data points from the chapter and outline it once again, which I then feed back into the first AI to increase cohesion and consistency. I've created 5 chapters so far and in my opinion they read really well and are fairly cohesive. I have a general idea for where the story will go but I'm still uncertain of where it will end up. I like to surprise myself a bit as I progress this story and dive deeper into the mind of the protagonist. I aalso have no idea how long this approach will hold up and when the consistency breaks down completely. I welcome any kind of criticism regarding the quality of this story, especially in regards to consistency, as quality AI assisted writing is still fairly novel and I'm very curious to hear what you guys have to say about this approach aand the result. Without further ado, here are the first 5 chapters: ----------------- Chapter 1 (Thursday, Day 1) Sitting at my desk, the hard wooden surface pressing against my thighs, I let out a weary sigh. Mr. Henderson's droning voice filled the classroom, the words blending together into a meaningless stream. History had never been my favorite subject, but today it felt particularly unbearable. I was a sophomore in high school, barely fifteen, with chestnut hair that fell in unruly waves around my shoulders and eyes the color of storm clouds. Despite my petite frame, I carried myself with a quiet confidence, a facade that masked the shame that gnawed at my insides. School had only started three days ago, after a long summer break filled with lazy days and carefree afternoons. But now, with the weight of my secret bearing down on me, those carefree days felt like a distant memory. My mind drifted back to that first accident a few weeks ago, the one that had started this whole downward spiral. I had been home alone, lost in the blissful solitude of my own thoughts, when it happened. I was sitting at my desk, engrossed in a book, when the pressure in my bladder had become too much to bear. I had tried to ignore it at first, too focused on the story unfolding before me to pay attention to the warning signs. But as the urgency grew stronger, more insistent, I finally realized what was happening. I jumped up from my desk, my heart pounding in my chest, and raced to the bathroom. But by then, it was too late. I felt the warm trickle of urine running down the fabric of my pants, a humiliating reminder of my body's betrayal. The shame washed over me in waves as I stumbled into the bathroom, tears stinging my eyes. I cleaned myself up as best I could, my hands trembling with embarrassment. And when I finally emerged from the bathroom, my cheeks flushed with shame, I vowed to never let it happen again. But now, as I sat in Mr. Henderson's classroom, the memory of that first accident came rushing back with startling clarity. And as the pressure in my bladder grew stronger, more insistent, I realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that history was about to repeat itself. Bits and pieces of the lesson floated through my mind, ironically drawing parallels to my current situation. Mentions of treaties and alliances felt like reminders of the fragile alliances I had forged with my own body, desperate attempts to maintain control in the face of impending disaster. But as my thoughts started to spiral again, a sudden realization snapped me back to reality. A warm, damp sensation spread across the fabric of my panties, and my heart sank. The shame washed over me in a suffocating wave, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I tried to discreetly wipe away the evidence. And then, just as I was grappling with the humiliation of my predicament, Lily's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. Lily has been my best friend for as long as I can remember and she was sitting next to me in class. "Ellie, are you okay?" she asked, concern etched in her features. I forced a smile, my voice strained as I replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, I guess." But even as I spoke the words, I could see the doubt in Lily's eyes. She had noticed something off about me, something I had been desperately trying to conceal. And as she continued to study me with furrowed brows, I knew that my carefully constructed facade was beginning to crumble, exposing the truth I had fought so hard to hide. My heart sank further as I realized there were still ten more minutes left in this class. How was I supposed to deal with my wet secret for that long? And as the pressure in my bladder continued to build, I couldn't shake the feeling of mortification knowing that the short leak wasn't enough to relieve it. I watched the clock closely, patiently waiting to be released from this torture. My thoughts started drifting off again, thinking about how my life was just fine a few weeks ago and how my bladder control got progressively worse in the last two weeks of summer vacation. At first, I didn’t notice. It all began with that one accident, which I quickly dismissed. I rationalized it afterward, attributing it to the copious amounts of water I drank that day to combat the summer heat. Given my tendency to lose myself in thought and tune out the world around me, it seemed plausible. In the following weeks, I continued to use the same excuse to justify my increasingly frequent trips to the bathroom. I didn’t think much of it. "It's just because I've been drinking so much to stay hydrated in the summer," I reassured myself. Although that carefree confidence started to crumble more and more with each trip to the bathroom and close call. Afterall here I was, sitting in class with damp panties. The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the classroom, pulling me once again from my thoughts, signaling the end of yet another torturous history lesson. Without a second thought, I bolted out of my seat, my heart racing as I made a beeline for the exit. I could feel the pressure in my bladder reaching a critical point, threatening to unleash an even worse accident if I didn't act fast. With each hurried step, I prayed that I would make it to the restrooms in time. The hallway stretched on endlessly before me, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slow. But finally, mercifully, I reached the door to the restroom and pushed it open with trembling hands. I dashed inside and made a beeline for the nearest stall, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Just barely, I managed to yank down my pants and lower myself onto the toilet before it was too late. I closed my eyes, relief flooding through me as I felt the warm rush of urine escaping my body. Once the immediate crisis had passed, I dared to open my eyes and glance down at my wet panties. The shame washed over me anew as I realized the extent of the damage. There was no hiding it now – the evidence of my secret was plain for all to see. I contemplated my situation, trying to come up with a plan to discreetly deal with my wet underwear. But as I sat there, lost in thought, a knock on the stall door shattered the silence. "Ellie? Are you in there?" Lily's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, concern evident in her tone. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. How had she found me here? And more importantly, how was I supposed to explain the mess I had gotten myself into? With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realized that I was about to be confronted with a reality I had been desperately trying to avoid. "I-I'm fine, Lily," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just... needed a moment alone, you know?" But even as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I knew they sounded unconvincing. How could I possibly explain the mess I had made of things without revealing my deepest, most humiliating secret? There was a brief pause, and then Lily spoke again, her voice soft but insistent. "Ellie, I'm your best friend. You can talk to me about anything. Please, just let me in." I hesitated, torn between the instinct to keep my secret buried deep inside and the desperate need for someone to confide in. Finally, with a heavy heart, I unlocked the stall door and watched as Lily stepped inside. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the scene before her – me, sitting on the toilet with tears streaming down my cheeks, my wet panties discarded on the floor beside me. "Oh, Ellie," Lily whispered, her voice filled with sympathy. "What's going on? Why are you so upset?" I took a deep breath, steeling myself to reveal the truth I had fought so hard to hide. "Lily, I... I've been having accidents," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been happening for weeks now, and I don't know what to do." Tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted the humiliating ordeal I had been going through, the shame and fear that had consumed me with each passing day. But to my surprise, instead of recoiling in disgust or disbelief, Lily reached out and enveloped me in a warm hug. "Ellie, I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you were going through this. But you don't have to face it alone. We'll figure this out together, okay?" And in that moment, as I clung to my best friend for dear life, I felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life inside me. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to face this nightmare alone after all. Chapter 2 (Thursday, Day 1) Lily and I huddled together in the restroom stall, our voices hushed as we deliberated our options. "Okay, so we have two choices," Lily began, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Option one: we dry off your panties as best as we can and you put them back on. Hopefully, the wetness won't show through your pants." I bit my lip, considering her suggestion. "But what if they do show through?" I whispered anxiously. "I can't bear the thought of everyone seeing..." Lily nodded understandingly before presenting the second option. "Option two: we seek out help from the school staff. They might have spare clothing or be able to assist us in some way." I hesitated, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, the idea of confiding in someone else filled me with dread. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else knowing about my humiliating secret. But on the other hand, the risk of being caught with wet panties was equally terrifying. "I... I think we should go with option one," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I can't bring myself to tell anyone else about this." Lily nodded in agreement, though I could see the concern in her eyes. "Okay, we'll go with option one," she said gently. "But if it doesn't work out, we'll figure something else out, okay? You're not alone in this, Ellie. I'm here for you." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I nodded, overwhelmed by Lily's unwavering support. Together, we set to work drying off my panties as best as we could, hoping against hope that our chosen option would be enough to get us through the rest of the day. As we worked quickly to dry off my panties, the restroom door creaked open, and the voices of a bunch of gossiping girls drifted in. My heart sank as I listened to their chatter, their words slicing through the air like knives. "...and did you hear about Sarah? I heard she got dumped by her boyfriend in front of the whole school! Can you imagine how humiliating that must've been?" The cruel laughter that followed sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt Lily tense beside me. We pressed ourselves against the walls of the stall, hardly daring to breathe as we waited for the girls to leave. My mind raced with fear and anxiety, the sound of their laughter ringing in my ears like a taunt. I couldn't help but wonder what they would say if they knew about my own humiliating secret, about the struggles I was facing right now. But as the seconds ticked by agonizingly slow, the girls' voices gradually faded away, leaving behind an eerie silence. Lily and I breathed a sigh of relief, our bodies still trembling with tension. Once the coast was clear and my panties as dry as we could get them, we emerged from the stall, our faces pale with fear and exhaustion. Lily squeezed my hand reassuringly, her eyes filled with sympathy. "We'll get through this, Ellie," she whispered, her voice filled with determination. "Together." With Lily's support, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them head-on. And as we left the restroom, ready to tackle whatever came our way, I felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life inside me. We made it back to our last class of the day without anyone noticing the turmoil that had unfolded in the restroom. With each step, I felt a sense of relief wash over me, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the weight of my secret, but also still reminded of the dampness inside my pants. As we settled into our seats, the familiar routine of the classroom provided a welcome distraction from the events of the day. And though the memory of the gossiping girls lingered in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Lily's unwavering support. Despite the close call, I had managed to navigate through the day without my secret being exposed to the entire school. It was still a close call, but in that moment, it felt like a small victory. Despite the earlier challenges, the remainder of the class passed without incident. But as the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, my relief was short-lived. As I gathered my belongings and prepared to leave, Lily caught up to me, a concerned expression etched on her face. "Ellie, wait," she said softly, motioning for me to step aside. Confusion knitted my brows as I followed Lily to a secluded corner of the hallway. It was then that her gaze flickered down to my pants, and her eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, Ellie," Lily murmured, sympathy lacing her voice as she gestured to the damp stain that had seeped through. "We need to figure out a way to conceal this before you leave school. We can't let anyone see." Panic surged through me as I realized the gravity of the situation. I couldn't bear the thought of facing the humiliation of being seen with stained pants, especially not in front of my classmates. But with Lily by my side, I knew we would find a way to handle it together. Taking a deep breath, Lily and I set to work, brainstorming ideas to conceal the stain and get me home safely. We quickly decided that Lily would lend me her jacket to tie around my waist, providing cover as we made our way through the crowded halls. Nervously, Lily and I made our way through the hallways towards the exit, keeping a vigilant eye out for any signs of suspicion. To our relief, we seemed to go unnoticed, but the tension still lingered in the air, palpable and suffocating. As we approached the bus stop, the familiar sound of giggling reached our ears, and my heart sank as I spotted the gossiping group of girls already waiting there. Among them stood the tallest one, towering at 5 foot 10 over my petite 5 foot 0 frame. She shot a glance towards the jacket around my waist, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, but quickly became engrossed in conversation with her friends once again. My pulse raced with anxiety, but to my immense relief, the girl didn't seem to suspect anything amiss. She made no comment about the jacket or the stain it concealed, and soon, the bus arrived, whisking us away from the prying eyes of the gossiping girls. As we settled into our seats on the bus, I let out a shaky breath, grateful for the narrow escape. Despite the close call, we had managed to make it through the day without my secret being exposed to the entire school. It was a small victory, but in that moment, it felt like a monumental achievement. After what felt like an eternity, though it was only about 15 minutes, Lily and I finally reached our stop. Lost in my thoughts, I reflected on the rollercoaster of a school day we had just endured. As we stepped off the bus and onto the familiar sidewalk, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach at the thought of facing my mom when I got home. We walked together in silence until we reached the front of my house. With a heavy heart, I turned to Lily, knowing our time together was coming to an end for the day. "Thanks, Lily," I said softly, my voice tinged with gratitude. "For everything." Lily smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course, Ellie," she replied. "Anytime. And don't worry, you can keep the jacket for today. You can give it back to me tomorrow before school." Relief washed over me as I pulled the jacket tighter around my waist, hoping it would conceal the stain, not realizing however that stain had almost fully dried and was barely visible by now. With a final hug, we said our goodbyes, and I watched as Lily walked away, disappearing down the street. Alone now, I stood in front of my front door, the weight of the day's events heavy on my shoulders. Dread gnawed at me as I contemplated the inevitable encounter with my mom. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and reached for the doorknob, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Chapter 3 (Thursday, Day 1) I stepped through the front door, the weight of the day's events heavy on my shoulders. My mom greeted me with her usual upbeat demeanor, her smile brightening as she asked about my day. "Hi, Mom," I managed to stammer out, my voice barely above a whisper. I forced a smile, hoping to mask the turmoil raging inside me, and quickly set my bag down by the door. As my mom chattered on about her day, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me, I followed her to the kitchen, my mind swirling with worrisome thoughts. I mechanically poured myself a glass of water, the cool liquid doing little to calm the nerves that threatened to consume me. I forced myself to focus on my mom's words, nodding along absentmindedly as she recounted the events of her day. But beneath the surface, a sense of dread gnawed at me, the weight of my secret pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. I struggled to keep up the facade of normalcy, my mind racing with unanswered questions. How could I face my mom when she inevitably found out about my struggles? Would she be disappointed in me, or worse, ashamed? As I sipped my water, I resolved to keep my secret buried deep inside, at least for now. I couldn't bear the thought of burdening my mom with my troubles, not when she had her own worries to contend with. But even as I tried to push aside my fears, a sense of unease lingered in the air, casting a shadow over what should have been a peaceful afternoon at home. And as I glanced up at my mom, her smile faltering for just a moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that our idyllic facade was beginning to crack. As I helped my mom make dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables providing a comforting distraction, I began to feel a sense of calm wash over me. Maybe, just maybe, my mom hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary after all. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the pressure building in my bladder until it became almost unbearable. With a small gasp, I excused myself from the kitchen, intending to make a quick trip to the bathroom. But before I could take a single step, my mom's voice cut through the air, startling me out of my reverie. "Ellie, wait," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "Can I ask you something?" I turned to face her, my mind still foggy from my internal turmoil. "Sure, Mom," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rising tide of anxiety. She hesitated for a moment, her expression unreadable, before finally speaking. "What's with the jacket, sweetheart?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "It's still pretty warm out for you to be wearing it." My heart skipped a beat as I realized there was no way to avoid the question. With a shaky breath, I forced myself to reply, praying that my mom wouldn't push for more details. "Oh, uh, it's just... I found it in my closet and thought it looked nice," I said, my voice trembling slightly. To my surprise, my mom's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the jacket. "That's odd," she mused, her tone thoughtful. "I don't remember you ever owning a jacket like that. Did you borrow it from a friend?" Panic surged through me as I struggled to come up with a plausible explanation. "Um, yeah, something like that," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "A friend lent it to me for the day." My mom nodded slowly, though a hint of concern lingered in her eyes. "Alright, honey," she said, her tone gentle. "Just be careful, okay? And make sure to return it to your friend when you're done with it." With a nod, I forced a smile and hurried off to the bathroom, my heart still pounding with adrenaline. As I closed the door behind me, I let out a shaky breath, grateful for the temporary reprieve. But even as I relieved myself, the weight of my secret hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over what should have been a simple family dinner. Sitting on the toilet, I couldn't help but glance down at the white, slightly childish-looking panties I wore. My heart sank as I noticed the faint yellow stain, now fully dry, marring the fabric. With a pang of embarrassment, I realized I should probably change out of them. Once I finished in the bathroom, I made a quick detour to my bedroom upstairs. Hastily, I switched out of my jeans and stained panties, exchanging them for a fresh pair and a comfortable pair of sweatpants. I left the borrowed jacket on my bed and hurried back downstairs to the kitchen. As I reentered the room, the aroma of dinner filled the air, momentarily distracting me from my worries. My mom glanced up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. I forced a smile, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease. "Yeah, much better," I replied, my voice sounding more confident than I felt. "Sorry about that, Mom." She waved off my apology with a smile, turning back to tend to the food. But even as I joined her in the kitchen, the memory of the stained panties lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of the secret I was desperate to keep hidden. As I finished setting the table, the sound of the front door opening caught my attention. Moments later, my dad entered the kitchen, his tired smile lighting up his face as he greeted me. "Hey there, kiddo," he said, ruffling my hair affectionately. With a smile, I returned his greeting, grateful for the familiar routine of our family dinners. As we all sat down at the table, the warm glow of the kitchen bathed us in a sense of comfort and familiarity. Throughout dinner, I couldn't help but notice how upbeat both of my parents seemed, their laughter filling the air as they exchanged stories from their day. They played the part of the happy little family perfectly, oblivious to the worries that ate away at their daughter from the inside. I tried my best to join in the conversation, forcing a smile and nodding along with their stories. But beneath the facade of normalcy, a sense of isolation gnawed at me, reminding me of the burden I carried alone. As the evening wore on and dinner came to an end, I excused myself from the table, claiming exhaustion from the long day at school. But even as I retreated to my room, the weight of my secret hung heavy on my shoulders, casting a shadow over what should have been a simple family meal. As I sat down to tackle my homework, my mind couldn't help but drift back to the events of the day. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for Lily and all she had done to support me. Without her, I don't know how I would have made it through the day. With a sudden burst of determination, I decided to call Lily, hoping to do our homework together. Somehow, suffering through the boring math equations seemed more bearable with her by my side. "Hey, Lily!" I greeted her as she picked up the phone. "Hey, Ellie! What's up?" Lily replied cheerfully. "I was wondering if you wanted to do our math homework together? It's kind of boring on my own," I suggested. "Sure thing! I’ve finished mine already, but I don’t mind keeping you company," Lily agreed with a laugh. I quickly got to work, Lily helping me through the first problem. But it wasn't long before our conversation veered off course, leading us down a rabbit hole of jokes and stories. "Remember that time in sixth grade when Mr. Thompson caught us passing notes in class?" Lily reminisced, causing us both to burst into laughter. "Oh, how could I forget?" I replied between giggles. "That was definitely one of our finer moments." As we continued to work through the homework, I couldn't help but marvel at Lily's patience and willingness to help, despite having already completed her own assignments. It was moments like these that reminded me just how lucky I was to have her as a friend. In the midst of our conversation my focus shifted further and further away from the assignment I was doing. By the time we were completely off topic I barely managed to finish half of the assignment and had already completely forgotten about them. I even completely forgot about the stained panties still lying on my bedroom floor, which I had originally planned to deal with after homework. For the first time since I had arrived home, I felt a sense of lightness wash over me, grateful for the simple joy of friendship in the midst of chaos. Chapter 4 (Thursday, Day 1) Hours slipped by as Lily and I talked, laughter punctuating our conversation as we reminisced about old memories and shared new ones. But as the evening progressed, I realized with a sinking feeling that I still hadn't finished my homework. Time had slipped away unnoticed, and now I found myself scrambling to catch up. A sudden knock at the door shattered the tranquility of the moment, causing me to jump in my seat. With a quick apology to Lily, I excused myself from our phone conversation and hung up, my heart pounding with apprehension. "Come in," I called out automatically, my mind still reeling from the unexpected interruption. The door creaked open slowly, revealing my mom standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Hey, sweetheart," she said softly, her voice gentle. "Is everything okay?" I forced a smile, trying to hide the panic that threatened to consume me. "Yeah, Mom, everything's fine," I replied, though my voice sounded strained even to my own ears. But my mom wasn't convinced. I could see it in the way she studied me, her eyes searching mine for any sign of distress. "Are you sure?" she asked, her tone gentle but probing. "You seemed a bit... off earlier. Is something on your mind?" I felt a surge of nervousness grip me as I realized that my mom wasn't as oblivious as I had thought. She had sensed something was wrong, and now I found myself at a loss for words. "I, uh, just got caught up in a conversation with Lily," I stammered, my voice faltering. "That's all." My mom's expression softened with understanding, though a hint of concern lingered in her eyes. "Alright, sweetheart," she said softly. "Just remember, I'm here if you ever need to talk. I love you." As I sat there, trying to compose myself, realizing my Mom was only concerned and meant well, I noticed her gaze flicker towards the floor where my discarded clothes lay. My heart skipped a beat, fearing she might notice the stained panties, but to my relief, her attention seemed to pass over them without recognition. "Sweetheart, don't forget to clean up your clothes before bedtime," my mom said, her voice gentle but firm as she turned back to face me. I nodded quickly, my mind racing with a mixture of anxiety and relief. "Okay, Mom," I replied, forcing a smile despite the turmoil brewing inside me. With a final nod, my mom left the room, closing the door softly behind her. As I sank back into my chair, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease lingering in the air. My mom's concern was touching, but it also served as a stark reminder that I couldn't keep my struggles hidden forever. With a heavy sigh, I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. But even as I gathered up my clothes and prepared to clean up, the memory of my mom's probing gaze lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder that some secrets were harder to keep than others. As I placed my clothes in the hamper, a sense of exhaustion washed over me, weighing down my limbs as if each step was a struggle. I made my way to the kitchen, the cool tile floor soothing beneath my feet as I poured myself a glass of water, the gentle sound of it filling the silence of the empty house. With a heavy sigh, I trudged into the living room where my parents sat, their voices low as they chatted quietly. I mustered a weak smile as I bid them goodnight, the weight of the day pressing down on me like a leaden blanket. Turning away, I made my way to the bathroom, the familiar routine of brushing my teeth offering a brief respite from the chaos of my thoughts. But even as I rinsed and spat, the worries of the day lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of all that I had left unfinished. As I climbed into bed, the events of the day replayed in my mind like a broken record, each moment filled with anxiety and uncertainty. I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at me, the struggles of the day casting a shadow over the days to come. With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes, the weight of my worries threatening to pull me under. But even as sleep beckoned, I couldn't escape the nagging sense of unease that clung to me like a stubborn shadow, a constant reminder of the struggles that lay ahead. And so, with a weary sigh, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring some respite from the chaos of today. I drifted off into a restless slumber, completely oblivious to the fact that I had never even finished my homework that day. Chapter 5 (Friday, Day 2) I sat in math class, my eyes fixed on the clock at the front of the room. Its hands seemed frozen in time, mocking me as I waited for the minutes to tick by. My bladder ached, a constant reminder of the discomfort I had been trying to ignore all morning. As the teacher droned on about equations and variables, I tried to focus on the lesson, but my mind kept wandering back to the relentless ticking of the clock. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching on and on as if time itself had come to a standstill. I glanced down at the worksheet in front of me, my stomach twisting into knots as I realized I hadn't finished the homework assignment. Panic bubbled up inside me, threatening to overwhelm my already frayed nerves. Summoning all my willpower, I tried to push aside my worries and concentrate on the task at hand. But as the minutes dragged on, my anxiety only grew, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest with each passing second. Just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, the teacher's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts, calling my name. My heart skipped a beat as I realized what was happening. "Ellie, would you mind coming up to the front to present your solution for problem number three?" the teacher asked, her voice breaking through the fog of my panic. I felt a surge of dread wash over me as all eyes turned to me expectantly. With trembling hands, I gathered my things and made my way to the front of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. As I stood in front of the class, the weight of their gaze bearing down on me, I struggled to find my voice. My mind raced, searching desperately for the solution I knew was buried somewhere in the depths of my memory. But as the seconds ticked by, I realized with a sinking feeling that I had nothing. My mind was blank, my thoughts consumed by the overwhelming pressure of the moment. With a shaky breath, I mumbled something incomprehensible, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a jumbled mess. The teacher frowned, her disappointment palpable as she urged me to try again. But it was no use. The words refused to come, trapped in the tangled web of my anxiety. And as I stood there, frozen in place, I couldn't help but feel the crushing weight of failure bearing down on me, a heavy burden that seemed impossible to bear. Suddenly, a wave of relief washed over me, but it wasn't because I had miraculously found the answer to the math problem. Instead, it was a strange warmth spreading through my lower body, a sensation that left me bewildered and confused. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I glanced down, fully expecting to see a puddle forming at my feet. But to my shock and confusion, my pants remained dry, and instead, there was a strange bulge forming between my legs. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized what was happening. I felt a surge of panic rising within me, my mind racing to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before me. I looked up, my eyes wide with fear, only to find all eyes in the classroom fixed on me. I could feel the heat of their stares burning into my skin, their whispers filling the air like a deafening roar. And then, amidst the chaos, I heard it: a faint, familiar giggle echoing from the back of the room. My blood ran cold as I recognized the sound, a chilling reminder of the humiliation that awaited me. Frozen in place, I struggled to make sense of it all. How had this happened? Why was I wearing a diaper? And who could have done this to me? But as I searched the faces of my classmates for answers, all I found was confusion and disbelief mirrored back at me. And in that moment, I realized that I was alone, trapped in a nightmare of my own making with no way out. As I jolted awake, confusion momentarily clouded my thoughts. It took a moment for me to realize that it was just a dream, but as the fog of sleep lifted, a wave of worry washed over me. My heart raced as I remembered the vivid details of the dream – the warmth spreading through my lower body, the sensation of wearing a diaper, the humiliating laughter echoing in the background. With trembling hands, I reached under the sheets, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched for any sign of wetness. Relief flooded through me as my fingers met dry fabric, but it was short-lived. In the next instant, a sharp pain sliced through my bladder, a stark reminder of the reality of my situation. Panic surged within me as I realized that I only had seconds to spare before disaster struck. Frantically, I threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed, my mind racing as I raced to the bathroom, every step sending a jolt of agony through my body. With trembling hands, I fumbled with the doorknob, my heart pounding in my chest as I pushed open the door and stumbled inside. And then, finally, blessed relief washed over me as I collapsed onto the toilet, the pressure in my bladder finally easing as I let out a long, shuddering sigh. As I sat there in the dim light of the bathroom, the events of the dream still fresh in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder what it all meant. Was it just a nightmare, or was it a sign of something more? And as I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I couldn't shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. As I returned to my bedroom, the dim light filtering in through the curtains cast long shadows across the room. Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I realized with a sinking feeling that it was barely 3 am. Exhaustion washed over me, the events of the night leaving me drained both physically and emotionally. Crawling back into bed, I pulled the covers up to my chin, hoping to find solace in the darkness of sleep. But as I lay there, my mind buzzing with a thousand thoughts and worries, I found myself unable to relax. Minutes turned into hours as I tossed and turned, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlwind. But despite my best efforts, sleep remained elusive, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. And then, just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, exhaustion finally claimed me, pulling me down into the depths of dreamless sleep. As I drifted off into unconsciousness, a sense of peace washed over me, if only for a fleeting moment, as I surrendered to the embrace of slumber once more.
  22. Prologue: The silence in the dim lit hospital room was only disturbed by the noise of the breathing machine. The single bed was occupied by an older female patient. Her name was Sally and she was about to lose her fight against the serious disease. Sally was a successful scientist and her work got famous; she focused on cancer research. By the irony of fate, her own research subject caught her up. At a regular check the gynecologist revealed a small lump on her breast. According to the biopsy it was a carcinoma. At first Sally was shocked but after a surgery everything seemed alright. Two years later Sally was plagued by headaches and the MRI revealed several metastases in her brain and bones. Unfortunately, it was too late for any surgery and Sally’s condition worsened rapidly. The tumors interrupted all connections between her brain and rest of her body. Now she was paralyzed, and the breathing machine and numerous tubes were the only way to keep her alive. Despite her serious condition her mind still was clear, but she felt like she was dreaming and disconnected from the real world. She knew she would die soon, and the dreams will be over. That thought made her worried. She desperately wanted to continue her work. All of sudden she heard a voice in her mind: “Sally, I know about your worries. Would you like to get a second chance?” “Who are you?” “It doesn’t matter. People have been giving me different names for ages but I’m able to help you if you really want to.” “Are you … God? Sorry but I’m a scientist and I don’t believe in God.” “It doesn’t matter if you believe or not. I ask you again; would you like to get the second chance?” “How do I get the second chance?” “Your mind will be exchanged against somebody else’s one.” “No, that’s unacceptable. A family loses their beloved one and I’ll become a surrogate.” “What if you helped the family in that way?” “Sorry, I don’t understand you.” “I know that’s an experiment even for me. You don’t have anything to lose and neither has the family you are worried about.” Sally was confused. She was taken aback by the mysterious entity. She definitely didn’t believe in God, but she didn’t have any explanation for the voice. However, the offer was quite attractive even if she didn’t understand how she could help. “Well, I accept your offer whoever you are. What would happen?” “I know a family you could help, and your mind would be exchanged against a family member. Do you take the risk?” “I don’t have anything to lose; that’s still better than death.” “Well, Sally. Maybe you reconsider your worldview. Get prepared for your second life.” “Thanks …” There was no reply anymore. Sally was thrilled about the upcoming events. Part 1: Sally opened her eyes; it was a big surprise after being isolated in her dreams only. Anyway that wasn’t the last or the biggest surprise. She felt her body even if she realized something was wrong. The body was much smaller than an adult; she could guess she was a child about 3 or 4 years old. Her clothing matched her size and age; she was wearing a beautiful pajama, but she felt a thick package between her legs. The diaper wasn’t that surprising; many children needed diapers at nighttime. She lifted her head and looked around the room. To her surprise she hardly was able to keep her head up. The next attempt revealed even more of her weak muscles. She could move her limbs, but she didn’t have any strength. The room was nice, but its equipment didn’t match her age; there was a changing table on the opposite side and a stroller next to her bed. She also couldn’t see any toys for a girl her age. Instead, there were plushies all around. Two plushies were sitting on the bed. Sally’s mind was working quickly; she put two and two together. The room apparently belonged to a disabled child. The little girl wasn’t able to use her limbs. Sally relaxed and waited but she did another attempt. What about her vocal cords? She almost tried to speak when she noticed the baby monitor. Speaking wouldn’t be a good idea. She turned her head away and tried to whisper. As expected, the vocal cords were functional. At that moment Sally realized what the mysterious entity did and why. The mind of the poor toddler moved into her wrecked body. Her mind was quite able to revive her limp body and enable her to become a healthy girl later. However, Sally had to face several problems. The first one was her new identity. The mysterious entity didn’t tell her anything about her name and family. She also didn’t have any idea of her supposed condition. A disabled child probably wasn’t able to speak. Meanwhile Sally felt the pressure in her bladder. She tried to clench the muscles, but her effort was vain; the bladder muscles were as weak as all other ones, and she peed in the diaper. The package between her legs got heavy and soaked. Sally sighed only and tried to think of her options. She had to find a way to recover from her condition without shocking her family. It really was a difficult task. However, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. A middle-aged woman entered the room and she had to be Sally’s mother … oops, not Sally’s. First of all, Sally had to find out her new name. “Good morning, sweetheart,” the woman smiled at her child. To Sally’s disappointment she didn’t call her by name. Sally didn’t know how to react. What would a disabled child do? She couldn’t speak and the only appropriate response was a wide smile at the woman. Nevertheless, this reaction also was surprising: “Did you smile? Your mom is very happy. This is your first smile.” the woman leaned down and kissed Sally’s forehead. “Let’s get out of the nasty wet diapee,” she reached between Sally’s legs and lifted the small girl on her arms then. Sally instinctively put her tiny arms around the neck of her new mother and noticed an amazement in her eyes. “Sweetheart, what’s going on with you? Is it a miracle?” Sally was taken aback. The poor girl probably was more disabled than she was able to imagine. Even the slightest responses were a total surprise for her mother. She wasn’t able to guess how to react. As she was put onto the changing table, she relaxed and let her new mother change the soaked diaper and put the day clothes on her. However, it also was slightly unexpected: “I’m surprised by you sweetheart even if you probably don’t understand me. Thank God you are getting better. Your mom is thankful for every smile, and she would pray for you every day. Let’s go to breakfast now.” The new mom put Sally into the stroller and wheeled her out of the room and to the kitchen. A man, a girl about 10 and a small boy about 5 were sitting at the table already. “Tell good morning to our little Susy. She was in a very good mood today and she even smiled at me.” Well, the first goal has been reached. Her name was Susy. Now she needed the names of her new siblings and hoped she’d learn them soon. Susy instinctively smiled and almost opened her mouth to say good morning. The small boy jumped off his chair and ran over to the stroller. He hugged Susy and kissed her forehead. However, he stopped and stared at her. Susy also looked at him. Their eyes met and the boy felt something was wrong. Sally was able to pretend the disabled condition and avoid speaking but she wasn’t able to pretend the void look. “Hey, Charlie, sit down and eat now. You can be with Susie later,” the mother called him back and wheeled Susy to the table next to her older sister. “Annie, would you feed Susy?” “Of course, mom,” Ann turned to Susy and tied a bib around her neck. Susy let her do it without any fuss and waited patiently until Ann fed her. Ann also wondered a bit about Susy’s behavior, but she shrugged only and fed her sister. After breakfast dad took Ann to school and Charlie to the kindergarten. Susy was alone with her new mother. She got curious about the schedule; the upcoming day probably was quite boring. They stayed in the kitchen and mommy did the dishes She kept talking to Susy: “Sweetheart, you surprised me this morning. I don’t know what happened but hopefully you get better, a bit at least. I’ll pray for you and our Lord will help us. Your smile has to be a miracle. I don’t remember any single smile since you were born. Many times, I prayed for a glimmer of emotion and today you showed me it. I don’t know what happened and I’ll ask our Lord on Sunday. Hopefully he shows me his endless mercy. I know that you don’t understand any single word but I’m sure you feel my love and the love of the whole family.” Susy kept listening and she desperately wanted to reveal her real condition, but she couldn’t do it; the poor woman wouldn’t be able to understand what happened and her response was unpredictable. However there still was a good chance. If the family was religious, they could accept a miracle, but Susy couldn’t reveal her identity. She could train her muscles and speak but she hardly could reveal her knowledge and education level. It would be unacceptable even for a miracle. A tear appeared in Susy’s eye, but she had to wink and hide it quickly. The tear would reveal that she understood her mommy. Fortunately, mommy didn’t notice the tear and didn’t notice the non-void look; she apparently didn’t expect it. Susy quickly composed herself and started thinking of her plans while watching her new mommy. She hoped to learn even more about her new family.
  23. Hello I've been reading a bunch of little space stories and became inspired to write my own. It's the first story I've written like this so I hope everyone enjoys it. Chapter 1 Classification Day Sarah looked around the auditorium, there were just over two dozen students assembled. Every year from the ages of fifteen to eighteen students are tested for any developing classifications. Those who test positive are divided into three types, dominant, subordinate, and neutral, with several subtypes under dom and sub. Sarah figured she was going to be a caregiver, she always loved playing with her little cousins. Loved seeing them happy and smiling. Caregivers are usually taller but it's not unheard of them to be shorter than six feet. She stood just over five feet tall, with chestnut brown hair and sparkling green eyes that seemed larger than normal. Her face was soft and slightly puffy giving her an innocent look. It was a source of frustration for her, while it helped her when dealing with kids and littles, adults treated her younger than she actually was. The other students looked around nervously, a few of them were obviously friends as they huddled together whispering amongst themselves. She can't blame the others, they probably didn't know what they were going to be. Their attention was drawn to the front by an opening door. A woman walked from the open door to the podium, tapping on the mic before turning her attention to the students. “Welcome to Classification assignment,” the woman said. She was taller than the assembled students. Standing at least six feet tall, with long blond hair and a warm gentle face. “You all can call me Miss Clarissa, and today you’ll all be tested for a classification.” The students' voices raised as a few blurted out questions. Miss Clarissa raised her hand, silencing everyone. “I know you all have questions but we have a lot of students to get through. When your name is called please go through those doors.” she pointed to a set of double doors that stood open. A nurse in scrubs standing there with a list. “Sarah Anderson,” the nurse called. Sarah jumped a little and walked over to the woman, who had a gentle smile on her face. Sarah was led to a small area sectioned off with some partitions. “Please sit. Today we're going to be drawing some blood and then you’ll take the Bectel test.” “Is it painful?” Sarah asked. “Not at all sweetie, some electrodes will be placed on your head then you’ll watch a video while a computer monitors your neural activity. Now I'm going to draw some blood. Is that alright with you?” Sarah nodded her head, and watched the nurse take out a blood draw kit and several vials. She wrapped an elastic band around the girl's arm before feeling for a vein in the crook of her elbow. It took her a moment to find an acceptable vein but she nodded in satisfaction and cleaned the area with an alcohol wipe. Popping the safety cap off the butterfly needle she went to insert it. The girl watched the needle, her heart racing as it drew closer to her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands. “Relax sweetie, it’ll only take a moment,” the nurse said gently. Sarah nodded and unclenched her hands, whimpering as she felt the needle pierce her skin. “Shh shh, you’re fine. Just going to take a moment,” she spoke calmingly and soothingly. “Just one more. That's a good girl.” The nurse took four vials before removing the needle and taping a cotton ball to the puncture. Sarah felt a few tears fall from her eyes as she watched the nurse put labels on the vials and drop them into a bag. The nurse walked away and came back a few seconds later with a sucker. “Here you go darling,” she said, handing it out. “Ready for the next part? I promise it won't hurt.” “‘Kay,” Sarah said with a sniffle. The nurse led her through the room, other kids were having their blood drawn. One of them bawled their eyes out. She tried to focus on her breathing. Trying to calm her racing heart. She didn't notice when they left the room and entered a small room with a machine in it. An older man stood beside a small reclining chair. “I have Sarah Anderson here,” she said, handing over some paperwork. “Excellent, can you sit here for me,” the doctor asked gently. Sarah nodded and hopped up on the chair, her head feeling fuzzy from the needle, she always hated needles. The doctor explained what he was going to do, which she mostly ignored. Except for the last part which caught her attention. “... then once I get a baseline reading I'm going to show you a video.” “Video…?” “Yes, it's just some funny shapes and colors,” he said, walking over to the computer, then tapping a few buttons. “Ready sweetheart?” She nodded again, and watched him flip a switch with trepidation. Bracing for the unknown she was slightly disappointed when nothing happened. He simply smiled down at her, putting her at ease. While she waited she looked around the room. It was a classroom, all the desks were pushed to one wall and the room divider was stretched across it, dividing the classroom in half. “One of my colleagues is in the other half with another Bectel tester,” he said, following her gaze. The computer dinged and he clapped his hands together. “Alright sweetheart, I'm going to start the next part now, go ahead and look at the TV there.” “‘Kay…” she said watching the tv. It was still black for a moment before turning on. It was showing a pure white image. She started to turn her head when the doctor gently patted the top of it. “Keep watching.” She nodded and became entranced as some shapes and colors flashed on screen. They began to change, changing size and color. As she watched her head began to feel fuzzy again. She shook it, trying to clear it while keeping her eyes on the screen. But the fuzzy feeling continued. Spreading through her whole head. The funny shapes continued to change. “Pwetty…” “How are you feeling sweetheart?” “I few fuzzy,” she giggled. “Do you know where you are?” “Scoo!” she exclaimed. “That's right,” he said, smiling at her. “Pwetty sparkus,” she beamed. The video kept her rapt attention, running for a while before fading back to pure white. “Are you with me sweetheart?” “Huh?” Sarah blinked several times before shaking her head. “What…?” “We're done, you'll receive your results in a few days after the bloodwork finishes.” “Thank you,” she said. “No thank you for being such a good girl,” he said, smiling as her cheeks turned pink. “Nurse, I'm ready for the next one.” Sarah looked at the clock, somehow thirty minutes had passed already. Her attention was pulled away as the door opened up. The nurse led another student into the room and took Sarah back to the auditorium. “Sarah Anderson?” Miss Allison called. “Yes ma’am?” “You may go home, take this letter to your parents please,” she said, holding out a sealed envelope. “Yes ma’am,” she said, taking the offered envelope and walking to the door. She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted her mom asking for a pickup. Settling down to read something while she waited. She got a few chapters through one of her favorite little stories before her mom pulled up. “Sarah sweetie,” her mom called her, making her jump. She was so focused on what she was reading she didn't notice her mom standing in front of her. “How’d it go?” “It was alright, they took some of my blood and hooked me up to a weird computer.” “Ah, I remember the day I was classified. Everyone there said it was obvious what I was,” she said, a nostalgic tinge to her voice. “Really?” Sarah asked, hopping to her feet and following her mom to their car. They both climbed into the car, and buckled in. “Yea, it was very obvious I was a dom even before then.” “It was?” “Yea, I was already more developed than other girls my age, and I was very authoritative. The next year I met your father,” she said, then sighed. It was true, her mom was nearly six feet tall, standing at five foot eleven. She was a mistress, which she reluctantly told her daughter. Much to Sarah's embarrassment. Her mother had the same chestnut hair, but hers fell down to the middle of her back. Her warm honey colored eyes drew the viewer to her face, with its small dainty nose, full pouty lips, and sensual smile. “I miss dad,” Sarah said, sniffling slightly, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I do too.” A silence between them fell as her mother drove back to their house. “So, any idea what your classification is?” her mom asked, breaking the silence. “Caregiver probably.” “You do have a lot of fun playing with Alice and Sam. Are you sure you’re not a little?” “No mom, I don’t want to be a little.” “Why not sweetie?” “Cause I don't want to be reliant on someone my whole life. I don't want to be restricted from being an adult. I don't want my freedom taken away. Besides, I don't have any little tendencies.” “Still you might be surprised,” she said softly. “Mom no, I don't even want to think that way. I’ll be a caregiver. End of story,” she said, crossing her arms. “Alright sweetie,” her mom said, chuckling softly. “Did they say how long you have to wait?” “No, but they gave me a letter for you,” she said, pulling it out of her pocket. “Hold on to it until we get home sweetie.” “‘Kay mom.” Sarah pulled out her phone and texted her best friend Melissa. She’s also doing her classification test today, but later than Sarahs. With a big yawn her head bobbed and fell to her chest as she fell asleep. ***** “Sweetie, time to get up.” “Huh?” Sarah stirred, looking at her mom bleary eyed. “We’re home.” She looked around in confusion. “Still tired sweetie?” Sarah nods and holds up her arms. “Such a spoiled girl,” her mom said, giggling as she picked up her daughter, pocketing the envelope that had fallen from her grip. Carrying the half awake girl to the front door. She used her free hand to open the door. “We’re back,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Welcome back Mistress Michelle,” a woman called from the other room. “How’d it go?” “Well enough,” she replied, walking into the living room. Placing her daughter down on the couch she turned to face a woman who looked very different than her. Smaller with light blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She was much smaller at only “Long day?” “I think she was just stressed. You know how stressful classification day can be,” she sighed sitting down next to the woman, who pressed into her side and hummed contentedly. “I know, my mom was sad that I got designated as a pet,” she said nuzzling into Michelle. “Like she was super supportive but I could tell she was disappointed.” “And it's her loss,” she replied, planting a kiss on the smaller woman's lips. “You’re a wonderful woman, Ariel. And an amazing pet. “I’m so glad you adopted me,” she said. “Especially after Jason.” “Shh shh, don't even think about him,” Michelle said, swiping a tear from her pet's cheek. “Should we wake Sarah up?” “No, leave her to sleep for now, it's barely been twenty minutes. She gave me a letter,” she said, holding up the sealed envelope. Dear Miss Michelle, This letter is to inform you that preliminary results show that your daughter will be classified as a little. You should make sure she's aware and ready to receive the official announcement, as well as her official regression range. Should she drop before receiving the results we encourage you to allow it to progress naturally. Sarah will be required to attend special classes. Before her eighteenth birthday we advise finding her a caregiver. If she doesn’t have a registered caregiver sixty days after her eighteenth birthday a foster caregiver will be assigned to her. Once her age range is established a list of required items will be supplied with the classification folder. Best regards, Agent Alexi, C.L.P.S. “Shit…” Michelle swore. “What?” “Sarah’s going to be pissed…”
  24. So this is my first time, trying to write any kind of story revolving around ABDL and also one of the first time I've ever tried sticking my nose into creative writing at all. This is basically a preview. I would like some feedback on my writing style and also if this is an "story idea and concept" that people would like to see me put some time and effort into. To zero and back Chapter 0: ” You GOT to be joking!” My mother stared back at me with a dumbfound look on her face. “You can’t be serious, about such an idea!?” Her eyes didn’t flinch, as she just stared right at me, with a blank expression. “Mom, seriously, it’s a great idea and it’s NEVER been done before. And the people at the magazine already signed off on it. They think its brilliant! This could be my big break!” I could easily tell, that my attempts at convincing her, had little to no effect. “So let me get this straight.” Taking a zip of her coffee, she learned forward in the couch, staring even harder at me, from the other side of the living room table. “The biggest child and parent’s magazine in the country, “Mommy Mag” has agreed for you to write a parenting guide on potty-training, by first unpotty-training yourself and then training yourself again, alongside your baby cousin!? And how long did they give you to write this article?” “Two years.” I mumbled, trying to break free of her locked stare. “So what, one year to unlearn everything and then when your cousin turns three, you got one year to learn everything again alongside him and write this damn thing!?”. “Pretty much.” Her eyes did not flinch, she had barely blinked since the conversation started. “And what does the deal include.” She took another sip of her coffee. This was my shot, my one opening to sell her on the idea. “They have agreed to take care of all expenses, WHATEVER that may include, also I would be under full time contract the full 2 years, but will not have to meet into the office to work on the article. And Mom, the salary is great and when the 2 years are up, if the article gets printed, I’m guaranteed to have my contract renewed and is free to work on whatever I feel like afterward. It’s a great deal and I really think this could be my big shot, at making it in the business.” That last part wasn’t a lie, I truly did believe that this could be my chance of making it big in the journalism business. Ever since getting my degree almost a year ago, nothing had really gone my way and 12 months after finishing school, I was still living at home with my mom and had, little to no luck at getting my foot in the door anywhere. That was one of the reasons of this project of my, but there was another, one that nobody and especially my mom needed to know about. I’m an ABDL which stands for adultbaby diaper lover, it’s a kind of fetish that has its roots in ageplay and regression often revolving around wearing and using diapers. So basically being able to wear and use diapers and combine it with my work, which may lead to something bigger, while getting PAID to do so, was the ultimate dream come true. But first, I had to convince my mother, since I was living under her roof and this would come to affect her day and life. “And what does your aunt Karen and uncle Rob think of this?” “They are pretty cool with it, I’ve already ran the idea by them and it’s not like it’s really going to affect them. Especially not until cousin Jack turns two and then it’s still limited how big a part of it, he and they are going to play. I’m the test subject, Jack is only playing the role of control test, so I’ll have some routines to follow, while training myself back up.” She took another zip of her coffee cup, still looking skeptical, but her stare had lightened. “I still can’t believe, that my sister agreed to this.” She exhaled deeply. “And how exactly are you planning on….UNtraining yourself?”. “Well...” I hesitated for a second. “I’ve been reading a lot about it on the internet, there are actually a lot of information on the subject, believe it or not. In reality, it’s like un-training any other muscle and there’s also hypnosis and stuff, that should help with the process.” She continued to stare into her cup, not giving me a second look as she spoke. “Well Patrick, you’ve seem to have already made up your mind. And you’re an adult, it’s not like I can stop you and you seem to have done your research. If this is want you think you NEED to do, to get your career going and if you promise to take good care of yourself.” My eyes lit up, as she looked back up at me. “Then go for it,” JACKPOT! Chapter 1: After a rather quiet, but especially awkward dinner, I found myself sitting in front of my laptop, armed with my company credit card and ready to begin my project. Seeking out diapers was my first priority, it didn’t take me long to find a local site that sold incontinent product and offered express shipping. I ordered a case of plain white adult diapers, in medium thickness and capacity and continued on to the second target on my “to do list”. I had been looking at hypnotic ABDL files for a while. Most of them seemed too good to be true, offering complete incontinent and mental regression. But at one point I stumbled upon a webpage that didn’t promise too much and actually sported some great review of their files. One file offered help to induce urinary incontinent, making the listener more open to the thought of becoming less bladder control aware and accepting this fact. Another offered the same but included bowel incontinence. But the one I had my eyes on, offered both of these, plus included ties to mental regression and acceptance. Linking the thought of becoming incontinent, with the thought of being a toddler or infant. Mentioning allowing the user to not be embarrassed by the idea of wearing and using diapers, because that is what babies would do and making “giving up control” easier, as this train of thought and connection between the two grew stronger. That was all I needed to read and within seconds the file was ordered and arrived in my email inbox. That would be all, I would need for now and I put my trusted company card away and decided to call it a night. But not before transferring the hypnotic file to my phone, so I could listen to it while I slept. Laying in my bed, I plugged my headset in and played the file, which sadly turned out to be a disappointment. The field proved to be some sort of subliminal message, just a random mix of radio scatter and sounds bites. The only noticeable feature, was a faint sound of a nursery lullaby appearing from time to time. But still I found the simple thought of the promised effect and what awaited me in the near future arousing and jacked myself to a major orgasm, before falling asleep, the file still playing in my ears. I woke up the next morning refreshed and excited. Luckily Mom had left for work, when I got up so awkward encounter ruined the morning as I had breakfast and started my day. I did not achieve a lot that day, as I constantly found myself checking the driveway waiting for the delivery of my diaper order. But I did manager to kill some time in front of my laptop and after much thought came up with a name for my article. “To zero and back” I said to myself as a wrote the headline on the word document. That name seemed fitting, as I would be going back to zero potty training and then back again afterwards. The mere thought of that, got me excited. Finally, the doorbell sounded and I sprang across the house. Opening the door, I was greeted by a UPS driver, holding a large cardboard box in his arms. Quickly signing for the order and sending him on his way, I ran back across the house and into my room, throwing the box onto my bed before ripping it open. Inside I found exactly what I ordered. A shipment of plain white diapers, enough to surely last me a while. At least in the beginning. Now came the part I had been waiting for. Time to put on, what hopefully was my first of many diapers for a long time. I ripped one of the diapers out of the box and sniffed it. No apparent smell hit, to my disappointment, so I quickly continued to open the diaper and spread it out on my before, taking a second to admire it, before slowly unbuttoning my jeans and letting them drop down around my ankles, before stepping out of them. Next I removed my underwear, realizing this may be the last time in a while, that I wore such a pair of boxerbriefs. I turned around and placed my bum on the diaper, it felt thinner than expected, but still the feeling of the soft padding, sent chills down my spine, as I laid back and put the front up between my legs. Next came the tapes, which proved to be quite a challenge, as each side sported 2 pieces of sticky material. It took a lot of fiddling and several on and off attempts but finally I had all four pieces of tape attached and the diaper secured around my waist. After standing up and walking over to my bedroom mirror to inspect myself, it became clear that “secured” may have been an overstatement. The diapers were hanging rather loose and slightly crocket around my hips. It took 5 more minutes of fiddling and opening and reapplying the tapes, before I ended up with a semi acceptable result. There I stood, dressed in nothing but my t-shirt and a crinkly white diaper. This was a dream come true, but the dream quickly ended as I heard the front door open and my Mom enter the house. I panicked and quickly ran to pick up my pants, we may have had the talk and this may be a dream come true, but I was nowhere near ready to let my Mom see me, in just a diaper. The pants proved to be a challenge to put on, the diaper was thicker than expected and it took quiet a lot of effort to force my pants up and over the diaper, but I managed to close them around my waist and went to greet my Mom. As I entered the kitchen to meet her, I became aware of the crinkle that followed my every step, as a result of the diaper moving around my hips. I slowed my movement, careful not to walk to fast, as a mean to dampen the noise of my new underwear. “Oh there you are, so how has your day been?” My Mom was busy unpacking the groceries as I entered. “Fine I guess, I’ve got a bit of writing done and I even came up with a title for my article.” I picked up a grocery bag from the table and start unloading it into the cabinet. My Mom stood quiet for a moment, staring down at me, as I was kneeling in front of the cabinet. “So, how does it feel?”. I looked up at her with a confused look. “What do you mean?” I folded up the bag and stood back up. “How does it feel being back in diapers?” My mouth dropped for a second. “How did you know?” My response triggered a chuckle from her. “It pretty hard not to notice, that crinkle is pretty hard to ignore, also its peaking up from the back of your pants when you squat down and when you entered, you were waddling almost like a toddler trying to hide it.” She continued to chuckle, as she put the bags away. “Guess it’s something we both have to get used to. It’s not like you can sneak around for the next 2 years, trying to hide it.” At this point my face was burning bright red, this was one of the things I hadn’t thought about, but she was right. I spent the next few hours “hiding” in my room, trying to avoid awkward diaper contact with my Mom, until the time came for my bladder to declare itself “full”. “This is it.” I mumbled to myself, as I stood up from my desk. Standing in the center of my room, I closed my eyes and relaxed my body. Nothing. I took a deep breath, exhaled and relaxed. Again, nothing. This was proving to be quite a challenge, and this whole untraining concept, may be harder than expected. Once again I took a deep breath, held it, exhaled and FINALLY. I felt a warm flow spread around my crotch, as the diaper flooded and consumed the urine flowing from my body. The warmth continued to spread across the front of the diaper, slowly making its way towards the back and… DOWN MY LEG!? I opened my eyes, just in time to catch the first drops of liquid, roll my thigh and onto the floor. “SHIT!” I mumbled loudly. The flow of urine stopped, but it was clear that my diaper had leaked and I had managed to make a mess on the floor. “Guess I didn’t do such a good job after all.” I thought, as I stood there contemplating my situation. I quickly made my way to the bathroom. First to rip off the “failed” diaper and wash myself off with a cloth, before grapping a roll of paper and run back to my room for a quick clean up. With the mess taken care off, I dropped the used diaper in the bathroom waste bin and soon found myself back in my room, fresh diaper in hand and ready to give it another try. Once again I placed the diaper on my bed and started placing it around my hips. AND once again I found myself having to fiddle with the tapes for several minutes, applying and reapplying them, before I ended up with an acceptable result. At this time, Mom was yelling that dinner was ready, so I threw my pants back on and slowly snuck my way to join her. Nothing particular happened for the rest of the night, as we both tried avoiding starting any awkward conversation during dinner, before I quickly snuck my way back to the safety of my room, where I spent the rest of the night, until it was time for bed. Laying in my bed that night, the hypnotic file playing through my headset. I quickly discovered that falling asleep wearing my new underwear would prove to be a challenge. The extra padding between my legs, made laying on my side rather difficult, not to mention the loud crinkle that followed my every movement and the extreme heat that was generated around my groin. But finally after much tossing and turning, I drifted off to sleep. 1 day down, 729 to go.
  25. All characters are adults. This is a work of fiction, not necessarily set in the real world. Every time your criticize online fetish erotica for being unrealistic, a fairy gets tax audited. The rest of the car ride was quiet, but not in a good way. Every little shift in someone’s seat, every bump on the road, every red light, even driving straight on a smooth road with light traffic—everything reverberated around the minivan’s interior. Anger and shame echoed off the glass. The click of the turn signal was deafening. And whenever another car pulled next to us at an intersection and either one of us made incidental eye contact with other drivers, the emotion in the car would somehow intensify. I would start tearing up again, but I dared not sob or sniffle my nose—that would only make things worse. My runny eyes and runny nose had already dripped down my face and on to my Sesame Street shirt and the straps of my overalls, but that was hardly the worst mess in my outfit. Lower down, my entire bottom was completely soaked; I’d wet my pants in the car. The wetness had dribbled down to my shoes and wicked up to the lower part of my shirt. My car seat was full of my naughty pee-pees, and I could almost feel it slosh around as we wove around traffic. It was cold now. The little toy mirror attached to my seat had somehow gotten pointed down, and a glance displayed a little baby who couldn’t hold on to use the potty like a big boy, and I just felt like crying again. And worst of all, I could already feel my tummy rumbling, and I would need the potty again soon. I’d never had a poopy accident before, but how could I possibly ask mommy for help now? I had hoped she would calm down during the car ride, but one shared glance in the rear-view mirror showed that wasn’t going to happen. Would I have have two accidents today?! Mercifully, we reached the driveway of our house. Unmercifully, mommy did not pull all the way into the garage. Instead, she parked outside, turned off the car, and turned around to face me. “I can’t believe you’ve had another accident! That’s the fourth time this week you went pee-pee in your nice clothes, and I have to get you cleaned up and clean up the mess you made! And all the bedwetting! Big boys use the potty! They don’t have accidents! Only babies do! Are you a baby?” Mommy’s upbraiding got me crying again. In between wails, I tried to say, “I’m sorry mommy!” but nothing intelligible came out. “I’ve had it with you! I don’t know a single other 34 year old who can’t control themselves. I know you’re big enough to hold your potties. So you must just be doing this to make mommy mad! Is that it?” I continued crying. “Well mission accomplished! So now I’m going to march you into the house, in broad daylight in front of all the neighbors so they can see what a little baby my supposed husband is, and you can stand in the naughty corner while I clean up your car seat.” With that, mommy pressed the button to open the sliding car door while she got out and stomped around the front. Reaching the door, she leaned over me and unbuckled my car seat, getting a real good view of how much I’d peed. “I guess you shouldn’t have had all that juice this morning, huh? Now get out.” I gingerly climbed out of the car and on to the pavement. Some of my cold pee-pee dribbled further down my pants, making me shiver. Now march! Double time! I waddled up the driveway, leaving bid wet footprints behind me. The neighbors were indeed getting an eyefull, watching the woman next door push her pathetic husband into the house with wet pants. What a loser! Mommy led me over to the corner of the living room, the naughty corner, to wait in time out. But then my tummy made another rumble, and I remembered that I still had to go poopy. “Mommy wait! I needa go potty!” “Oh no you don’t, mister! You’re not going to wiggle out of corner time that easily! Your ‘potties’ are all over your clothes and car seat, so I know that’s a lie!” “But mommy…” “No buts! If you so much as budge from that corner, you’re going to get the spanking of a lifetime!” And with that, mommy swooped right out of the room back outside to the driveway, leaving me in the corner. Pants full of pee. Shirt covered in tears and boogies. And a tummy full of poo-poo that really needed to come out. And so I started holding again. The wait dragged on as my tummy growled louder and louder, begging for relief. After a while, I could hear the car door close and the remote lock beep, and I could tell mommy was done cleaning and I could leave time out soon! I was gonna make it! But then I heard voices outside. It was Mrs. Whiting next door. She and mommy had stopped to talk! Oh no! I can’t hold on! “Mommy!” I shouted, the strain causing a little bit of poopy to poke out of my tushy. No answer. My strength giving out, my knees started to buckle, and I involuntarily squatted down. With my last little bit of strength, I squeezed as hard as my could for about a second, then a little fart escaped. My exhausted tushy fell limp, and I felt a real big poopy slide out. It felt firm at first as it shoved out of my body, but got squishy as it dropped into the bottom of my underpants and stretched it out. Another fart, then a second poopy came out, softer than the first. The sensations of all that yucky poopie squishing against me, the loud farting, and stink of my accident was all too much, and I started crying again. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, snot was oozing from my nose, and more pee-pee flowed into my pants as I started wetting again. I stood there and wailed for what felt like hours. During a break in my sobs, I could feel there was third wave of poopy inside me, blocked by the pile already sitting in my pants. I just wanted it out, so I squatted down some more and pushed. Another small squirt of pee came out, and then a glob of very mushy poop burst out of my… “Oh my god, you are not serious!” During all my crying, I hadn’t noticed mommy had come back in and was standing in the doorway. She saw her crying husband with a fresh puddle around his feet, squatting down and pooping his pants. “Now you’re messing yourself?!” I didn’t answer with any words, just a fresh round of crying. My face was purple now. I lightly stomped my feet, and a small piece of poopie dripped down my leg. Mommy swooped in, grabbed my by the ear, and whisked me upstairs. I wailed all the way into the bathroom. I wailed the whole time mommy swiped off my soggy shoes, my cold socks, my stained shirt, my dripping overalls, and finally, my wet and poopy underpants, slipping down my legs and landing on the floor with a thump. I stood naked in the bathroom, shivering with cold and fear. I knew what was coming. Mommy silently emptied my messy underwear into the toilet and put the rest of my clothes in the special hamper we have for my accident clothes. She also took a wet-wipe from the counter and gave my tush a cursory wipe, confirming the dread punishment I was in for. She turned on the bathtub faucet to let it fill, took the special hairbrush from the counter, lowered the toilet seat cover, sat down, and looked dead at me. “Come here.” “Please mommy, I’ll try harder! I won’t poop my pants again, I promise!” “I said, come here!” Quivering with pathetic fear, I gingerly walked over to mommy, and knelt down over her lap. “Do you know what you did wrong?” “I had a potty accident in my pants.” Tears were coming again. I put my hands behind my back. Without warning, mommy grabbed my two crossed wrists and began spanking. I started bucking and wailing as blows rained down on my reddening cheeks, mommy berating me with every stroke: “BIG! BOYS! DON’T! WET! Their PANTS! They USE! The POTTY! ONLY! BABIES! WET! And POOP! Their PANTS! ONLY! BABIES! CRY! STUPID! CRYING! PISSY! STINKY! BABY!” The room was awash in noise with mommy’s shouting, my crying, and the water faucet’s roar. It wasn’t until I cried so hard that I started choking on my own sobs that mommy finally relented. As suddenly as they began, the blows stopped and I was told to stand up again. Mommy put the brush away and turned the faucet off. She tested the water temperature, and motioned for me to get in. I gingerly lowered myself into the water, wincing as my red tushy touched the water. I sat down and just tried to catch my breath. I felt drained from everything that had happened, and I could only flop around limply while mommy took a bath sponge and started soaping me up. “I’m going to mark two accidents on your potty chart today. Do you know how many days this week you’ve been accident-free?” I shook my head no. “Just once, four days ago. And that’s only because I was being nice.” I remembered that trip to the potty. I had already dribbled a lot by the time I made it to the training potty in the hallway, and my underpants had a silver-dollar-sized wet spot on them. It sure felt like an accident, especially once I was finished and had to pull my cold underpants back up. And then, wet pants and tears three days in a row, finished off with a big poopy mess. “And you’re wetting the bed every night, too! That’s why you’re so tired and cranky during the day.” Mommy’s voice was softening. What did she mean? “I think someone’s not quite ready for big boy pants, hm?” Mommy took the shower spray and got my hair wet, then started massaging in shampoo. “If you can’t use the potty like a big boy, then the only solution is for you to start wearing your diapers again.” Oh no! Not that! Please! I’m not a baby! I’ll be good! I wanted to scream and thrash in the tub, but I was too tired, and all that came out was a moaned, “Noooo…” “I’m sorry, sweetie, but you’re still too little.” She started spraying the shampoo out of my hair. “If you can’t hold your pee-pees and poopies for the big boy potty, then you’re just going to have to wear diapers for all your accidents.” “No, no, no, no, no…” My moan was now barely a mutter. Everything inside me was gone. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t use the potty… I really was just a baby! Mommy pulled the plug in the bathtub and started toweling me off, even while I softly blubbered. “I think you’re going to need a nap once I get your diaper on.” “Noooo naaaap!” “I’m getting mighty sick of hearing you whine ‘no’ over and over again. Now lets go get your baby pants on, unless you just want to stand here naked all day? You want that? You want to make mommy mad?” Still quietly sobbing, I shuffled over toward my bedroom, if you could call it that. More like a nursery. Mommy wouldn’t let me sleep with her anymore since I kept wetting the bed, and that was usually where Mister Robert slept when he stayed over, so there was no room for me. I slept and took naps in the guest room instead, which mommy had decorated with teddy bear and train decals on the walls, and Sesame Street or Pup Patrol bedsheets, whichever set wasn’t in the washing machine, on the bed (along with an uncomfortable plastic sheet). Toddler toys and stuffed animals were strewn around the floor, and there was still a faint smell of pee-pee in the air from previous nights’ accidents. Once she ushered me into the room and closed the door, she walked over to a mini-fridge in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of milk. Silently, she put in the bottle warmer sitting on top, then strode over to the closet and retrieved an unopened bag of diapers (she’d bought them to threaten me a week ago), a big beach towel, and a small bag I’d never seen before. All with a kind of scary efficiency, she unfurled the towel on the floor and set the diapers and bag down next to it. She turned to me with a cold look. “Lay down.” “Please, mommy…” She looked at her once-husband, still softly sobbing, cheeks wet with tears, a fresh coating of snot bubbling out of my nose and down over my mouth and down my chin, clutching a towel over my shoulders, shivering, my little pee-pee shriveled up even more than usual… A one-time junior law partner reduced to something so… “Pathetic,” she muttered. “I said, lay down.” “But I don’ wanna…” “LAY DOWN FOR YOUR DIAPER OR I SWEAR…” I crept a little closer, and then mommy grabbed my arm and, somehow without throwing me, quickly put me on my back on the makeshift changing pad, almost pinning me. She opened the plastic bag of diapers, pulled one out and started fluffing it, making sure I got a good look at the design. It was decorated with baby circus animals, each wearing its own diaper, and a few with pacifiers, baby bottles, rattles, and other infantile things. Once she was done fluffing, she opened it wide. “Lift your butt, diaper boy.” I never stopped sobbing. I obeyed and lifted my hips slightly, and mommy slid my diaper under me. Reaching into the mysterious bag, she then produced a bottle of baby powder and started sprinkling its snow all over my little pee-pee and tushy, rubbing it in with her other hand. I was embarrassed, but I liked the scent. Finally, she folded my diaper up over me, its cushioned stuffing hugging all my potty parts, and fastened the tapes. The whole time, she muttered, “Can’t use the toilet, can’t use the plastic potty in the hall, can’t hold his piss in the car, and now can’t hold his poop. Baby diapers it is.” The whole time, I just kept crying. “I’ll have to get a changing table for you, so I don’t have to bend over on the floor.” Once I was taped up, she got up and went to my dresser to get a new shirt. I sat up and looked at the puffy, crinkly diaper bulging between my legs. Every time I moved, the plastic crackled like firecrackers. I gingerly reached down to feel the plastic… “NO! You may not remove your diapers! Understand?” She lightly smacked my hand. “Now stand up.” I got up from the towel, trying to adjust my stance for all the padding between my legs. As I steadied myself, a long string of snot dripped down from my nose onto the towel. “Ugh, gross,” mommy said in disgust. She reached down back into the bag and got a pack of baby wipes. She took one and started roughly wiping my face down, removing the tears and snot. “You’re just a mess on both ends, aren’t you? Now arms up.” I complied, and she brought down a clean t-shirt over my head, one that had “BABY” in toy blocks printed on the front, and was just a little short, leaving my diaper on full display. “Now get into bed for your nap. Your bottle should be ready now.” I mournfully shuffled over to my bed and pulled back the sheets. Even after washing, there was still a dingy yellow stain there from repeated wettings, a reminder of why I was in the predicament. As I laid down, mommy came over with a warm bottle… and Jake. Jake was my best friend. He never yelled at me when I had accidents. He never called me stupid or smelly. He was always ready to give me hugs and comfort me. He wasn’t just my best friend, he was my only friend. I was so grateful Jake would stay with me for my nap. I reached out for him and clutched him close. “Now drink this. Maybe then you’ll calm down.” I was reluctant, since I wasn’t thirsty, and I was worried I’d wet the bed again if I drank anything. I shook my head no. “Well if you’re going to nap without your bottle, maybe you can nap without Jake.” I squeezed Jake tighter and moaned. “Then open up.” I opened my mouth a little and mommy slid the nipple in. Without thinking, I started suckling, and the warm milk started squirting out into my mouth, down my throat, and into my tummy. Mommy gently guided my free hand over the bottle and helped me grasp it, then pulled up the sheets. “Now don’t get out of bed until I tell you, and don’t try to take off your diaper. Just drink your bottle, and I’ll do some laundry.” With that, she turned off the lights, left the room, and closed the door. I kept suckling my bottle on autopilot while I looked at my situation. I was back in diapers, and I didn’t know how long until mommy let me try to potty train. I reached down under the blankie and felt the plastic covering my pee-pee. I knew I wouldn’t get the bed all wet, but I was still sad I couldn’t be a big boy anymore. I took the bottle out of my mouth and turned to Jake. “Can I still be a big boy?” I listened to Jake’s answer, then I responded. “I guess so. Mommy knows best.” I kept suckling the warm milk out of the bottle until it was all done. I was so sleepy from all the chaos that’d happened. Just as it was empty, I let the bottle fall from my mouth and hugged Jake tighter. At least I was warm. Warm from the milkies, warm from my blankie, warm from Jakie, and warm in my diapie… Did I just have another accident? I fell asleep before I could answer.
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