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Click here for the background on this story. OK... we’re trying something new here. We’ve added a new “Audience Participation” tier on Patreon: for $8 a month, you’ll get to control the direction of certain stories by voting in polls. These installments will likely be a little shorter than usual (which hopefully means I’ll be able to update more often.) To read the first Diaper Court story, click here. Miley sat in the courtroom, nervous, awaiting her fate. Before her, the honourable Judge Longabaugh smiled down like a cat who swallowed the canary... A guilty verdict had just been handed down, and she was quite literally at his mercy. She gulped nervously, wondering what kind of deranged sentence he was cooking up for her within the depths of his depraved mind. When the summons to the infamous Diaper Court arrived in her mailbox, Miley assumed it was some sort of joke... That was for girls who were chronically late for work or couldn’t keep their panties clean... not for rich, famous celebrities such as herself. But when she informed her lawyer, the woman had turned quite ashen and assured her that it was no laughing matter. “I’m afraid it’s quite serious,” she informed Miley sternly, “and you do have reason for concern-- if you’re found guilty in this venue, you could be looking at two years or more before you can get back to your career... not to mention the-- other damage you might incur,” she said vaguely, blushing when she thought back to some of the things she’d heard about diaper court. Miley’s legal team had fought hard, first to have the charges dismissed, then for a change of venue. Finally, they argued their case to the best of their abilities, but it was no use... the charges were downright bizarre, and the rules of the court seemed deliberately stacked against them. In the end, a guilty verdict seemed like a forgone conclusion-- and that was how she came to be sitting here, in front of this madman, awaiting her fate. “Will the defendant please rise for sentencing,” he asked, infuriatingly cheerful. Reluctantly, Miley rose to her feet, smoothing out the dark, stylish yet professional pantsuit she’d chosen for herself... not that it matters at this point, she thought sullenly. Behind her, the courtroom was packed, and Miley could feel every eye on her... and almost every one of them eager to see her get her comeuppance. At first she thought it was simply paranoia-- but during the course of the trial, Miley had become convinced that everyone in the courtroom, the judge, the spectators, the jury... even members of her own legal team were just waiting to see her get her punishment. “Young lady,” he said, his voice rumbling with deep gravitas, “you have been found guilty of appropriating the style of the ABDL community for your own personal gain and engaging in the teasing of said community, and for your lack of support for the community in general. Have you anything to say for yourself before your sentence is pronounced?” Miley wracked her brain, trying to think of something clever or profound to say in her defense-- something brilliant that would undo all the trouble she was in and pull her well-toned backside out of the fire. Instead, she merely looked at the floor, shuffled her feet ruefully, and mumbled under her breath: “it was just a joke, bro.” Judge Longabaugh smiled, relishing every moment. He’d watch this little troublemaker for years, praying that one day she’d be in his courtroom and at his mercy... there was no way she was going to wriggle her way out of this one. The Judge intended to make her squirm. “Well, luckily for you, there’s going to be plenty of time to reflect on your mistakes.” it was all he could do to keep himself from rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Young lady, I hereby sentence you to...” What will be Miley’s sentence? Members of the Audience Participation tier can vote here! Stay tuned to find out what happens next!

If you're enjoying the story let me know in the comments-- and if you pledge $8 or more on Patreon, click here to cast your vote and determine what happens next in the story. “There’s no single thing we can point to, Ashley,” Mr. Milken said, eyeing her with a cold and calculating smile. “It’s a number of little things adding up to a much larger problem... you might say it’s a problem of attitude as much as performance.” His voice was silky smooth, his gaze ruthless. Ashley squirmed in her seat, shifting under his penetrating gaze, his handsome features, and his expensive suit lending him authority and gravitas. “I understand,” she said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard about performance problems at a job, and she honestly doubted it would be the last. “It’s not just coming in late or leaving early, it’s not the fact that you gossip instead of getting your work done on time, it’s not constant leaves and ‘personal days’... it’s not even the fact that you spend over an hour in the ladies room every day. Those are merely symptoms of a larger problem.” “Yes sir,” she said, stifling a yawn. She was eager to get to the part where she made platitudes about doing a better job and then going back to her cubicle to file her nails. Milken put up a good front, but she knew he didn’t have it in him to fire her... just like all the rest. When she put on a properly chastened, puppy dog face, no one could look into her bright blue eyes framed by cascading blonde hair without relenting. She’d learned long ago-- bat your eyelashes and flash a little cleavage and you can practically get away with murder. “I’m glad you agree,” Milken said cheerfully, “because I think we need to have a little talk about your position here at the company.” Ashley got a hollow feeling. “I’m sorry?” she said, trying to sound confident. “Your position here at the company... I’m just not sure you’re right for it.” “But...” “We’re trying something new here,” he said smoothly, interrupting her. “A new program for, shall we say, ‘delinquent employees.’” “What kind of new program?” she said, barely keeping the edge out of her voice. “We’ve found a position that we think is ideal for an employee with your-- temperament.” “Such as...?” Ashley inquired curtly, suddenly on edge. Mr. Milken touched a button on his desk. “I think Ms. Simmons can explain better than I can,” he said as the door swung open and the primly dress, stern-faced Ms. Simmons entered. Ashley studied her conservative dress and the neat bun in her hair skeptically, but Simmons coolly ignored her with a professional, almost military disdain. “This is the one I was telling you about,” he said, “can you show her the ropes, Ms. Simmons?” Only then did she turn and look Ashley over, and the impassive expression on her face suggested that she wasn’t overly impressed. “I think that can be arranged. Come along,” she said with precision, turning and moving to stand by the door. Ashley looked over at Mr. Milken for confirmation, certain that this was some sort of joke... but she was met with a smile and gesture from her boss. “Run along, Ashley,” he said dismissively, “Ms. Simmons will show you the ropes.” Uncertainly, she rose from her seat and made her way over to Simmons, standing before her awkwardly. “Er... So, I guess...?” But Ms. Simmons was in no mood for dallying. “Come along,” she said quickly, snatching Ashley by the hand and dragging her out of Mr. Milken’s office and into the larger work area beyond. “Hey! What’re you, nuts?! Let go of me!” Ashley whispered angrily, praying no one would notice as she struggled and failing to disengage herself from Simmons. “Silence!” Ms. Simmons demanded, landing a hard, open handed swat to the seat of Ashley’s tight skirt, the noisy POP of her palm drawing some stares, and even a few giggles. “OW!” Ashley complained, reaching back to rub her tingling backside, hobbling along behind Simmons all the way to the elevator. She pushed the button and ushered Ashley inside. “I think you’ll find things will be quite... different for you from now on,” she said with subtle glee, pushing the button for the basement. Looks like Ashley is on her way back to daycare-- should it be a fully mechanized, futuristic, automated nursery, or do you prefer the human touch of the old fashioned kind of nursery? The nursery should be fully mechanized and automatic It should be an old fashioned adult nursery staffed by people Click here to vote Check out Babes In Diapers for more great stuff