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This is my first story posting on here. I would love to hear your comments on what you liked and future ideas! Let me know if you have any critiques or suggestions. I'm still figuring out the formatting here. Bradley's Diaper Punishment (Humiliation at Walmart) Chapter 1 of 8 Bradley’s heart pounded as he walked in the kitchen, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a warm glow on the tiled floor. The air smelled faintly of coffee and toast, but all he could focus on was the dampness between his legs and the way his diaper sagged uncomfortably under his pajama pants. Bradley was 18 years old and a senior in high school. He lived with his stepmother and stepsister. Bradley was a very short and scrawny teenager. Puberty has yet to come to Bradley, he had no hair other than the hair on his head. He was small down there, something he was very embarrassed about. His stepsister and stepmother were much taller and stronger than him. His stepmother, Michelle, stood there in her perfectly pressed summer dress, her arms crossed. Katie, his stepsister was in the same grade as him in school. Katie loved to tease Bradley. She loved to joke about letting his bedwetting secret slip to the whole school. There were already rumors floating around about his bedwetting chart. Katie was much more mature than he was. Bradley always seemed to show a strong lack of responsibility and obedience. The opposite of Katie. Katie leaned lazily against the counter, her long legs stretched out in her usual nighttime attire—cute high-cut panties that showed off her butt and a top that clung to her slender body. Bradley hated how she loved to flaunt her lack of need for diapers by showing off her mature panties. A constant reminder of his own humiliating need for diapers at night. She smirked at him, her eyes flicking down toward his waistline. “Good morning, Bradley,” Michelle said in that tone—the one that always made him feel like he was five years old. Her voice was sweet but laced with authority, the kind that brooked no argument. “Come here, let me check your diaper.” Bradley hesitated, his cheeks burning. God, why does she have to do this? Why can’t I just take it off in my bedroom and tell her? But he knew better than to do that. Ever since he’d lied about being dry, Michelle had insisted on checking his diaper every morning herself. No matter what she was in the middle of doing, where she was, or who was there. He had to find her and let her check him before he was allowed to remove his diaper. And in the kitchen, with Katie standing there, it felt even more humiliating. They were in the same grade and he was treated so much differently than her. Bradley’s stomach dropped. He hated this routine. His feet dragged as he approached her. Katie’s eyes followed him, a smirk playing on her lips. He could already hear the teasing remarks forming in her mind. He was lucky she hasn't gone around school telling everyone about his embarrassing secret. At least not that he knows of. Michelle knelt down, and sighed impatiently gesturing for him to turn around. He did, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Katie let out a little laugh, and he shot her a glare, but she just giggled. “Relax, Brad,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you in diapers before.” Michelle ignored her and tugged at the waistband of Bradley’s pajama pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal the white diaper underneath. Bradley’s entire body tensed, his breath catching in his throat. Her fingers moved quickly, pressing against the diaper to check for wetness. When she found it, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Wet again,”Michelle sighed heavily, pulling his pajama bottoms back up before straightening up and wiping her hands on a nearby dish towel. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you, Bradley. You’re 18 years old. This is ridiculous! Maybe I should just give up and start putting you to bed right after dinner in your diaper like the baby you are acting like” The threat made Bradley plead, “I’m trying,” he stammered, his voice strained. “I really am.” “Well, trying clearly isn’t enough,” Michelle replied, her tone hardening. “You’re 18 years old, Bradley. This is embarrassing for all of us.” Michelle marked the potty chart with a big red frowny face sticker on today's date. The chart was covered in red frowny faces for accidents. There were a few green happy faces scattered here and there, but they were rare. Too rare. Katie let out a quiet laugh, stepping closer, peering over Michelle’s shoulder at the chart. “Wow, Brad,” she said, her voice teasing. “Another frowny face for the bed-wetter. You’re really on a roll this week.” Bradleys face turned hot, “Shut up, Katie,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real force. He hated the stupid potty chart that had been hanging there for months now, a constant reminder of his failures. It was bad enough that Michelle recorded every accident, but knowing that anyone who walked into their kitchen could see it—would see it—was unbearable. He was sure one of Katies friends saw it and blabbed to someone at his school. How else would the rumors at school got started? Bradley’s eyes flicked to Katie, who was now openly smirking at him. He hated her. He hated the the way Katie always seemed to be standing there, watching, smirking, like she enjoyed seeing him humiliated. He hated the diapers, the checks, the way Michelle treated him like he was still a little child, like he was incapable of doing anything on his own. “Michelle,” he started, his voice trembling. “Can’t I just tell you, do you really have to check me every morning? I’m not a baby.” Michelle turned to him, her eyes narrowed, for a moment, he thought she might yell at him. But instead, she set the stickers down and put her hands on her hips. “Bradley, we’ve been over this before, you know the rules. No taking off your diaper until I’ve checked you. . You lied to me before, remember? I have to make sure you’re being honest.” He wanted to argue, to scream that he was an adult and didn’t need this kind of treatment, but the threat of a spanking hung over him like a dark cloud. Michelle didn’t tolerate backtalk, and she had no problem carrying through on her threats. Bradley had learned that the hard way. “Go change out of your soaked diaper, shower quickly, then put on your big boy underwear,” Michelle instructed, “We’re going grocery shopping soon.” Bradley’s heart sank. He hated grocery shopping with Michelle. It was just another opportunity for her to treat him like a child in public. He glanced at Katie, who was clearly interested in his plight. “Can’t I just stay home?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly. He hated how desperate he sounded, but the thought of spending hours in the store with Michelle was unbearable. Michelle’s gaze hardened. “No, you can’t stay home. I don’t trust you alone, and Katie has plans with her friend. You’re coming with me.” Katie walked over to the dishwasher, showing off her big girl underwear, as she bent low to load her plate. “Yeah, I’m meeting Ashley at the mall. We’re going to try on new dresses, then come back here and tan. Prom is just around the corner” she said, shooting Bradley a sly grin. “But don’t worry, baby brother. I’m sure you’ll have fun picking out cereal and diapers.” Bradley glared at her, his fists trembling at his sides. “I’m not a baby, I don't want to go,” he plead. Michelle placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm. “Bradley, do I need to remind you what happens when you argue?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. Bradley swallowed hard, his defiance crumbling. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Good,” Michelle said, her tone softening slightly. “Now go take a shower and change into your big boy underwear ,” she ordered. “We need to leave soon and don’t forget to go potty before we leave I don't need you embarrassing me and having accident again.” Katie burst out laughing, her amusement clear. “Go potty,” she mimicked in a high-pitched voice, her laughter echoing in the kitchen. Bradley’s face burned. He hated when they brought that up and winced at the memory. He was so embarrassed when he’d had an accident during the day a month ago, right in the middle of the living room. Katie had teased him mercilessly for weeks afterward, and Michelle had made him wear pull ups during the day as a “precaution” until the whole package was gone. He didn’t think he’d ever live it down. Bradley glared at her, but there was nothing he could say. He turned left the kitchen, the weight of his humiliation pressing down on him. As he reached the stairs, he heard Katie call after him, her voice sing-song and cruel. “Don’t forget to rinse really well, baby boy! You wouldn’t want to smell of pee at the store!” Upstairs, Bradley slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he tried to steady his breathing. The mirror across the room reflected his red-faced frustration, and he looked away, unable to meet his own gaze. Stripping off the wet diaper, he tossed it into the trash bin with more force than necessary before stepping into the shower. The water was lukewarm, doing little to soothe his anger. He scrubbed at his skin as if he could wash away the shame, the helplessness. But no matter how hard he tried, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Not as long as Michelle insisted on treating him like this. Not as long as Katie kept mocking him. By the time he stepped out of the shower, his skin was red and raw, but he still didn’t feel clean. He didn’t want to go grocery shopping. But he didn’t have a choice. Michelle had made that clear. Dressing quickly, he pulled on a pair of his briefs. They were a little small on him and had cartoon characters all over them. They were very juvenile, but that's all Michelle would buy him, another thing Bradley hated. He put on his jeans, his hands trembling as he buttoned them, and grabbed a plain T-shirt, avoiding anything that might draw attention. As he put it on, the memory of Katie’s laughter echoed in his mind, fueling his resentment. Bradley shuffled downstairs, his heart heavy with dread. Michelle was already waiting by the door, her summer dress perfectly pressed, her hair brushed to a flawless shine, and her purse slung over one shoulder. As he approached, she gave him a stern look and reached into her bag, pulling out her hairbrush. Bradley froze mid-step, his eyes locked on the offending object. “Just a reminder,” Michelle said, her voice calm but edged with warning. “If you act up at the store, I will use this. Do you understand?” Bradley nodded quickly, his cheeks burning. “Yes, ma’am,” he groaned. Katie was at the top of the stairs behind him laughing at the threat, Michelle never spanked her. She leaned against the banister with a smirk. She was still in her bedtime outfit—nothing but a top and a pair of revealing panties—and she looked far too pleased with herself. "Don’t forget to go potty before you leave, Bradley," she called, her voice dripping with mock concern. "We wouldn’t want another accident, would we?" She said as she passed him, flaunting her panties. “I already went,” he lied quickly, desperate to avoid another humiliation. Katie leaned against the kitchen counter, grinning wickedly. “Sure you did, baby. Just like you ‘went’ last time, right before you peed your pants.” Bradley clenched his fists at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. Arguing with Katie only ever made things worse. Michelle raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Are you sure?” Her tone sounded like she was asking a toddler who was doing the potty dance. “I’m sure,” Bradley stammered, trying to get the embarrassing conversation over with. His cheeks were burning. Why did she have to ask him that? He wasn’t a child. Katie giggled, the sound grating on his nerves. “Mom, maybe you should just put him in one of his nighttime diapers before you go out. You know, just in case.” Michelle tilted her head considering it for a moment, “that's not a bad idea.” Bradley's jaw dropped, his eyes wide, he couldn't believe she was actually considering it. “No, he can wear his big boy underwear today. But Bradley,” she added, turning her full attention back to him, “if you have an accident at the store, you’ll be in big trouble. Do you understand?” “I’m not going to have an accident,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “I’m not a baby!” Katie snickered and Michelle’s eyes narrowed, she stepped closer, her presence looming. “Don’t talk back, young man. Now are you going to be a good boy for me on our shopping trip and not embarrass me?” Bradley’s face flushed crimson. He wanted to argue, to scream that he was eighteen, for God’s sake, but he knew better. Michelle didn’t tolerate defiance. Instead, he clenched his fists and nodded his head, his jaw tight. “Good,” she said, smoothing her dress. “Now, let’s go. And remember, Bradley, if you misbehave, I’ve got my hairbrush right here.” She patted her purse for emphasis, and Bradley’s stomach twisted.

I’ve chosen to revisit the story Sally’s Growth because of its controversial ending. This time, I’m offering a new one. I’ve spent a long time thinking about the story I wrote—and why I wrote it. While the original ending was described by some as “Greek drama,” one of my deeper influences is actually Russian drama. It’s rooted in realism, psychology, social critique, and spiritual struggle. It asks hard questions: How should we live? What does suffering mean? Its characters don’t battle the gods; they wrestle with themselves, with their nation, and with their conscience. There’s a persistent search for beauty, love, and meaning—even in chaos. Redemption is never guaranteed, but it’s always pursued. That said, the ending was disappointing. I get it. It disappointed me too—mainly because it left too much unresolved. For instance, how would Sally now relate to Katrina, Clara, and Erika in her changed situation? Over time, I kept circling these questions, running “what if” scenarios in my mind. Eventually, they grew into something more solid—and that’s what I’m sharing now. Someone once commented that the ending of Sally’s Growth felt like a dream sequence. They wished Sally would wake up. I’m not going down that road. Instead, I’m picking up the story where it ended: Sally dies—but then she doesn’t. And from there, the story continues. (Spoiler: Nobody dies in this story) I’m posting Chapter 97 as a continuation under this new direction. New readers may want to check out Sally’s Growth in the Completed Stories archive before diving in. I suggest you read until Chapter 96, then begin here. Your comments mean a lot. I depend on them.

Hello all, So it seems in the last few years a lot of the places I used to post stories sort of fell through. I used to mainly concentrate on Devinatart, Daily Diapers, ADISC and ABDL Story Forum. I knew there were other pages out there that took stories but those were enough for me. Anyway, of those, ADISC and ABDL Story Forum both went under. I've since posted on Spandi, but its newer and the writing community is slow to increase. I realized at one point about half the most recently updated stories were my own, as there simply wasn't many people posting. I would recommend this site btw, as I'd like to see it grow, but for now there isn't a large community. So my question is- where else are people posting? I know there are other pages, and I occasionally see my stories pop up elsewhere. (I'm thinking someone was copy pasting them) Are there other good places to post abdl writing? Which are your favourites? Also, how do you advertise/get followers on them? Thanks, Alex

Hello and happy 2026! It's been a while since I've posted anything in these parts, my last story being Intimism which was completed, oh boy, a year ago. Look, 2025 was a bit of a slow year for me, let's not dwell on that (although my blog might have a couple short stories that didn't make it onto this website....). But I'm back with an all new story, the first two chapters of which we'll be posting today! This story is based off of a prompt I received on my short story suggestion post over on Bluesky, but, well, it's not really that short, as you'll discover if you read on. This one kind of grabbed me by the masks and forced me to give it some proper length, what I can say. I'll be updating this one pretty frequently due to its structure, the diaper stuff is kind of backloaded into the final third of the story. Until then, though, I hope you enjoy the story and these characters! Thank you for reading! --- ‘I really picked a beautiful night for this.’ That’s what occurs to you as you admire the atmosphere around you. A full moon is hanging up above. There’s a breeze rolling through, cooling the warm summer night just enough that your cloak and your gear don’t feel too heavy on your shoulders. What’s even nicer than the weather is the view, you’ve always loved the view this tower has. The castle courtyard to one side and a sparkling lake just outside the walls, to the other side. It really is picturesque. You’ve seen it many times before, of course, but tonight….you don’t know why. You just can’t help but take an extra moment to admire it. You really wish you could just take moments like this and put them in your pocket. Well. Enough waxing poetic. You grip the rope currently tied to your waist to steady yourself, then continue scaling down the tower wall until you’re next to a window. Then, with your free hand, you grab a pick and start jimmying the window’s lock. The lock comes undone quickly and you lightly reach over to pull open the window - you almost climb right inside, but you stop for a second and thoughtfully rub your chin. You casually lean back and plant your feet on the wall of the tower, then you undo one of your boots. You take the boot and toss it through the now open window. You hear a splash from below. You can’t see quite that far in the dark, but you’re pretty sure your boot is now heading for the bottom of the lake. She really doesn’t think much of you, does she? If you were the easily offended type, this would really strike at you. You produce a switchblade and a small pouch, taking a pinch of glowing blue dust from the latter and sprinkling it over the former. The now enchanted knife easily cuts through the teleportation charm that had been woven into the window. Or, rather, the gap of space that existed between the inside and outside once the window was open. You blow the dust off of your blade, sending it and the charm off on the wind, then clamber inside. No surprises once you’re inside. A gigantic four-poster bed in one corner with the canopy currently drawn around its sleeping occupant. A bookshelf with a variety of dusty old tomes on the wall opposite the bed. A desk with yet more books and notes strewn about it. A vanity before a mirror with a myriad of make-ups, perfumes and busts wearing all kinds of jewelry. You spare the bed half a glance to make sure the occupant isn’t moving behind that canopy. Once you’re satisfied, you slide a small half-mask over the bottom of your face, covering your nose and mouth. You take in a deep breath and hold it, then you walk towards the vanity. You snag a necklace off of a bust, then start opening everything that opens. You find rings, earrings, brooches, which you grab at random. Your steps and movements make no noise. The jingle of the jewelry as it leaves its drawers and boxes and the clatter as it all drops into your sack never comes. A moment later and you’ve taken half of the glittering baubles here and made them your own. Your hand grabs a tiara off of a bust, but you pause for a second. You glance at the mirror, seeing the silver tiara, diamonds embedded in its front and your own cloaked figure and the gloves hands holding it. You glance back at the bed and its sleeping occupant. You roll your eyes and toss the tiara back on the desk where it silently jumps up and down a bit before settling. You walk away from the vanity. You don’t consider snatching any of the cosmetics (too likely to break in transit and get all over the jewels, not to mention your good satchel) or the books (can be valuable, but such a pain in the ass to find the right buyer for this dusty-ass tome or that one. Also, really heavy). So there’s not much of value left here for you after raiding the vanity. …but before you head back out the window, you can’t help but pause as you see something on the other side of the room, an armoire, taller than yourself. It’s closed, but there’s a dress hanging on the front of it - clothes already picked for tomorrow, presumably. You’re really only interested in the shiny stuff, but…clothes can be valuable too. Made of precious fabrics, woven into something particular, bespoke, for only one person. You have to find the right buyer, but. Expensive people like expensive things, so there’s always a market for fancy clothes. They’re also a lot lighter than books. You walk over to the armoire and look over the dress, trying to assess its value just from sight, at first. You take the dress in your hand and take a closer look, just trying to figure out its condition, how much you can sell it for. Your eyes fall to the sleeves. You run your thumb over the pink fabric, down to the white lace at the edge of the sleeve. It takes a moment for you to realize you’ve been staring. You also realize that in the moment since you’ve become staring, someone has gotten behind you. You bite the inside of your cheek, inwardly cursing yourself for not keeping your wits about you. Your hand reaches down to your belt. You release the breath you’d been holding. Sound comes from your feet as you move and your hand as you grip your weapon tightly. You spin around in one motion, bringing up your club, ready to drop it on the head of whoever snuck up on you. Then…you let out a huff and your arm falls to your side. You roll your eyes and start to walk away. “…did I startle you?” The young woman, a cup of tea in one hand, a candle in the other, large spectacles over her eyes, dressed in a flowing nightgown, gives you a look as you walk away from her. You move over to the bed and throw the canopy open. When you came in, you thought you saw someone asleep in the bed. Upon further inspection, you are prepared to conclude that it is, in fact, a broom and a watermelon dressed in a nightgown. “Cute,” you growl at the young woman. “I do like to try and keep you on your toes,” she says, a mischievous smile curling onto her face as she sets the tea and the candle on her desk. “So you’re settin’ traps for me, now?” You ask. “If I was setting traps, I wouldn’t have used a watermelon.” She takes a book off of her bookshelf and sits down at her desk. “I’d have put a guard in there. And they would’ve given you such a beating by now.” She takes a sip of her tea. Her back is to you. You’re positive she knows you have half of her jewelry in your satchel, especially now that the sound is back and it’s bouncing around noisily in there. She’s nonetheless nonchalant at your presence. “Shyeah. You just wanted to spare your guard the beating,” you say dismissively. You’re already inching towards the window. She’s sitting at the desk with her back to you, no interest in apprehending you or notifying anyone of your presence, but you don’t want to push your luck. “That must be why,” she says, barely paying attention as she pores over her book. She glances at the dress hanging on her armoire, then finally half-turns her head to half-look at you. “Do you like it?” You stop halfway through the window when you realize what she’s asking. “What?” “The dress. Do you like it?” She asks again. “Why would I have an opinion on--” “Mother and Father are having a ball for the Summer Solstice. Mother had it made for me.” She stands up and walks over to the dress, picking it up and holding it over herself. “She says the color represents the long sunset. I told her in that case, shouldn’t it be more of a dusky orange, but she thinks pink brings out my hair better.” She absentmindedly runs a hand through her curly blond hair as she looks it over. She then looks at you. “What do you think. Does this color bring out my hair?” “I have absolutely no bloody idea,” you growl. You’re not sure why she’s asking you for fashion tips. You’re even more not sure why you’re standing here listening to her ask you for fashion tips. “Mmn.” She seems unbothered by your non-answer and hangs the dress back up. “Personally, I’ve always thought pink goes better with black hair. Insofar as I’ve spent much mental energy on color coordination to begin with.” She goes back to her desk. “I’ve spent much more of my time on this, lately.” As much as you want to escape before somebody walks by and hears this conversation and as much as you do not care about the finer points of proper attire for Solstice Balls, you hesitate again to leave. “….on what?” You ask. You don’t step away from the window, but you do lean back in the direction of the princess and her desk, just a bit. Again, she half-looks back at you and again, you catch that mischievous little smile. She knows she’s piqued your interest. “I’ve just been researching something. A little piece of history that once belonged to another kingdom. It went unseen for so long that some academics consider it to be a…priceless treasure.” She paused for a second before letting those last two words hang in the air. This is the most obvious bait of all time… “What kinda treasure?” …and she’s got your hooked, good. Dammit. Now that she knows she’s got you, she picks up some things off the desk and practically skips over to you, her smile only getting bigger. “It’s a magical artifact from an old kingdom,” she explains, her eyes lighting up. She points at her book, then at some pictures she’s sketched in her own notes. “It was made by an old royal family, the head of which was a great spellcaster. The old research says it allowed the user to change themselves in whatever way they wished.” “That’s it?” You ask, feeling oddly disappointed. “Shapeshifting is expensive, but it ain’t legendary. Lotsa spellcasters can do that.” “That’s the thing. It’s not just shapeshifting.” She flips through the book. Even if the book was in any language you could read, she would be going too fast and too excitedly for you to read any of it. “The artifact wouldn’t just change you, it would change the world around you. Whatever changes you made for yourself, everybody around you would perceive them to be true.” Now you’ve gone from disappointed to confused. “That’s…impossible. So I could just tell someone-” “You could decide that you’re the princess that lives in this castle and this bedchamber belongs to you.” She gestures to the room around you. “If one of my guards walked in, they would believe it.” “…but you’re the princess, and this is your chamber,” you point out. “What would happen to you, would they suddenly think you were the one robbin’ the place?” You ask. You have to admit, that would be pretty funny. “Hm. It doesn’t say anything about swapping your old identity on to someone else,” she murmurs, looking at the book. “I suppose they would think both of us are the princess. I wonder how they would rationalize there only being one bed…” You fight the urge to roll your eyes again as you glance at her monstrosity of a bed, which could easily fit five people comfortably, muchless two. “Alright, well, when you figure it out, you write it all down and I’ll be sure to read it the next time I stop by,” you say. “You’re really not interested at all?” The princess asks, tilting her head. “The ability to change your whole identity with but a thought.” “What’m I supposed to be wantin’ to change about my identity?” You ask. She gives you a skeptical look for a moment. “I suppose I just took it for granted that this,” she gestures to her ransacked vanity with one hand and to your satchel, which holds most of her ransacked vanity, with the other. “Wasn’t what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing. Is plundering baubles really the sum of your ambition?” “Well, y’know, it’s not as exciting as robbing stage coaches, but I waste so much less time pickin’ arrows outta my butt,” you say nonchalantly as you brush your masked chin with the back of your hand. “I’ve thought about movin’ up to robbin’ dragons, but the thing is, they sleep on all their loot. Stuff’s more valuable, but washin’ that dragon stink off takes days.” “Ah, so it’s a matter of strict personal hygiene standards,” the princess says with a little giggle into her hand. “I understand completely.” She keeps staring at you for a moment. The smile on her face changes a bit. You look away. “What’re you starin’ at?” you grumble at her. “Well, unless you get your promotion to Dragon Burgling in the next couple months, I should have it one way or another.” The princess walks over towards her bed and starts shimmying her makeshift dummy out of her nightgown. “So if you change your mind and you’d like to see it on your next visit, just let the watermelon know when you get in.” “Right,” you grunt, sensing that she’s not going to bring anything up to try and keep you any longer. You’ve half-climbed out the window, when you stop and look back. “I thought you said this thing was lost, what do you mean you’ll have it in a couple weeks?” “Hm?” The princess looks back as if she’s surprised you’re still there. “Oh. Yes. Well, it had been unseen and unfound for quite a long time, but it was recently rediscovered. I’ve put in a royal petition to the owner to borrow it for research purposes.” “Right.” Petition. Borrow. Sounded like she was politely telling this person to hand it over or some royal soldiers would show up to throw them a face party where everybody’s knuckles were invited. “Who’s the unlucky shmuck who found it?” “The Witch Queen,” she says matter-of-factly and you almost fall out of the window right there. “The Witch Queen has it? And you’re just askin’ her for it?” You ask, unable to keep your laughter out of your voice. She doesn’t seem to notice your incredulity. “Yes, I think as a fellow academic, she’ll be all too willing to indulge my request,” the princess says. She takes the final sip of her tea and pulls up the covers of her bed so she can get in herself now that it’s been rendered watermelon-free. “She probably wants to see the continued advancement of magical knowledge as much as I do, don’t you think?” “I think if she writes back at all, you should have someone else open it,” you grunt. “I’m outta here. Good luck, princess.” She pauses as she gets in bed. She smiles at you. “Good luck to you, my burglar.” She waves a finger at the window. “Leave the window open, if you would.” Then she puts out her candle and pulls the canopy back into place. You pause and step out of the window. You stand there in the dark, staring at the canopy for a moment. You start to reach a hand out towards it. You pull it back. Underneath your half-mask, your teeth grind back and forth. You look at the window. You look back at the room. Your steps fall lightly on the carpeted floor as you walk over to the armoire. There’s a rustling noise as you jerk the pink dress, custom made for the Solstice Ball, off of its place and shove it into your bag. Nothing comes from the canopy in response except the slight shift of blankets and a contented release of breath. A few more seconds of shuffling later and you walk back over to the window and climb out. You close it behind you and start climbing back up the tower. … A moment later, you climb back down and open the window back up. You let out an annoyed grunt and climb away for real this time. And, as mentioned, here's chapter 2! Expect a couple more chapters later this week! --- You sell off some of the jewelry you knicked from the princess and make a pretty sum, as per usual and as per usual, you decide to put most of it away for safekeeping. You give one chunk to a friend who can keep it secure, who out of the kindness of his heart, lets you help yourself to a few of his refreshments. You give one chunk to another friend, who has made you aware of a limited time investment opportunity in the world of wyvern racing and you share some of it with another individual with whom you have a frank exchange of ideas regarding whether his mother’s circumference was great enough for her posterior to require its own lord. Okay, so, you spent most of the money drinking, gambling and fighting. At least you also replaced your boot. While nursing a hangover (and also nursing your busted up jaw), you find yourself going through what’s left of your loot. You haven’t burned through all of or even most of it yet. That princess really is keeping some valuable crap around. But you’re going through it quicker than you’d like - at this rate, you really are going to have to go back to that tower sooner than you’d like. The risk is still bafflingly small. You’re practically daring them to catch you at this point, always going in the same way, but there’s just never a guard on that tower, no matter how many times you use it to break into the princess’ room. “Lousy girl is keepin’ her guards away on purpose,” you growl to nobody in particular as you rub your head. You fall into your own bed and take a swig of your drink (water, probably the first cup of water you’ve had in a few days, the more you think about it). Your bed is a sad sight compared to hers, her giant four-poster behemoth could fit three of your crummy mattress. The rest of your home isn’t much better. For all the money you’ve made stealing from the princess, it never really occurred to you to buy some nicer things. Your home is just kind of the same hole in the wall it was before you started thieving. And it’s starting to bother you a bit just how out of place that dress is amongst all of your other crap. You didn’t sell it with the jewelry. You’re not sure why. You just left it hanging on the wall across from your bed and you just keep…sitting on your bed, staring at it. “I’ve always thought pink goes better with black hair.” Those words keep bouncing around in your head. You grab a handful of your own hair. You run your previous encounters with the princess over in your head, trying to remember if there was ever a time when your hood wasn’t up, if there was ever a time it wasn’t too dark for her to get a good look at you, if there was ever a time when she could’ve gotten a good look at your face at all, muchless the hair on top of your head. Was she just idly sharing an opinion or was she specifically referring to…. You let out a groan and look away from the dress. You don’t know why you’re spending so much time thinking about it. So much time trying to figure out what some strange bookworm royal girl is thinking. Why she spent so much time telling you about that treasure. Hell, she practically invited you to come back after she had it. ‘Is that why you’re burning through the money so fast? So you have to go back again? And when you see her and she has that treasure….’ You groan again, louder this time, to shut your own stupid inner monologue up. Right about now you’re regretting that you decided on water. You don’t know what’s happening to you. Easiest score in the world, all you have to do is go and take the jewels, then sell them, and the person you’re robbing never says boo about it. Why are you over-complicating it? She’s just a sheltered, pampered princess who’s never had any excitement in her life. She probably never says anything because she thinks this situation is like something from one of those books she always has her nose in, where some dashing rogue who steals from the rich and gives to the poor or something stupid like that falls in love with the fair maiden. That’s it. She probably has a crush on you because she thinks you’re some handsome fantasy character. She only sees you in the couple of hours when you’re actually on your game. She never sees the weeks of drinking, listlessness and general futility that makes up the rest of your life. She doesn’t know you’re just a busted, drunken thief who found an easy score and keeps using it because they prefer when things are easy. And, okay, sure, maybe you toss some gold coins at a couple street urchins here or an orphanage there. But she doesn’t know that, and you’re pretty sure you’re drunk when you do that, so she doesn’t get to assume it’s out of the goodness of your heart! She just thinks you’re a lot more than you actually are. And the more you think about it, you realize you are really pissed off at her. You think about going back into that tower tonight and giving her a piece of your mind. You think about figuring out which books are her favorite and then stealing them and telling her you burned them for warmth (before you remember that it’s summer). You think about throwing her mattress in that lake. None of these feel appropriate and most importantly, you don’t want your petty vengeance to actually harm your relationship enough to jeopardize your easy score, this is your income we’re talking about here. After ruminating on it for a bit, something occurs to you. You go back to your satchel and open it up, brushing aside some jewelry to find a rolled up piece of paper, the only thing you took besides the dress that wasn’t shiny. It was a snap decision, right at the end, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You grabbed the dress, then you walked over to the desk and ripped this page right out of her notes. It’s her notes on that treasure. The one that she was telling you about. The one that lets you become anything else. She told you to come back and see her when she got it. You would really like to see the look on her face when you show up in her room with it in your hands. You think about that look for a second. Then you stop, furrow your brow and shake your head. “No, no, this is insane!” You yell out to nobody. “This isn’t some jewelry we’re talking about, this is a massively powerful magical artifact in the hands of the strongest spellcaster in the country. For God’s sake, I am NOT, under any circumstances, seriously going to consider trying to rob the Witch Queen!” — Some time later, the night has finally come where you’re going to try and rob the Witch Queen. You’ve parked yourself at the edge of the forest surrounding the Witch Queen’s tower. After you finished cursing yourself and telling yourself this was crazy, you did eventually do your research on the place and come up with a plan to get inside. The vault, with all the Witch Queen’s treasures, was at the top, right above the Queen’s personal chamber. The tower only had one entrance, with guards posted at all times. So going in the front door wasn’t an option, but scaling the tower wasn’t much better. It was very tall and even at night, you would eventually be spotted, not to mention there was security charms on all of the windows. Real ones, not basically-a-practical-joke ones like the Princess’ teleportation charm that had put your boot in a lake. It seems impossible to get in without the Witch Queen wanting you there first, but you eventually realized something. The tower was covered with charms to prevent breaking in, but one area wasn’t - the one underneath the surface. You were going to steal from the Witch Queen by breaking into her dungeon. Finding a teleportation charm of your own hadn’t been cheap or easy. It was single use and single direction, so the spellcrafter you bought it from had insisted that you only use it when you had direct line of sight to where you were going. If you misjudged and teleported into a wall, you would be crushed instantly. You’d promised the crafter you weren’t planning to teleport through a wall. You had not chosen to divulge you were planning to teleport through a bunch of ground and a wall. Because the charm was single direction, teleporting from the ground downward into the dungeon was a no-go and probably would’ve clipped the security charms anyway, so, you found yourself a quiet, secluded stretch of the forest and started digging. It was really quite important that you started digging at the right point because, can’t stress this part enough, if you got the distance wrong, you were going to have a lot of dirt and stone occupying the same physical space as your person and you really didn’t wanna learn what that felt like. Why were you doing this again? For money? Or power? No, it was for spite. Right. Just making sure. You’d never considered yourself a Godly burglar, but when you stood in that hole you’d dug with the charm in your hands, you found yourself murmuring a quick prayer to whichever of the divine cared to listen. Eventually, you decided the anticipation was making you sicker than the possibility of your imminent crushing death, so you sucked in a breath and said the word. The charm crackled to life and a blue electricity surrounded you. Your stomach filled with a feeling of weightlessness. Thunk! And you were dropped onto your knees in a dark cell. You take in and let out several breaths and look around. You’re alive. And you’re not dead. Which means it worked? You pat yourself a few times. Yup still in one piece. And from the iron bars in front of you, it looked like you were exactly where you wanted to be, a cell in the Witch Queen’s dungeon. A quick look around shows what you had suspected from your time planning this job to be true - nobody else here. Either imprisonment had fallen out of favor with the Witch Queen as a punishment or she’d built a better dungeon somewhere else. Given that you’re currently trying to steal from her, you really hope you never find out. Right, stealing. The heist. You’re here for a heist. The good news is, you didn’t crush yourself getting in. The bad news is, this was by far the easy part. Now you have to climb up every floor of this tower, including past the Queen’s own chamber, without being detected. On the way, you have to not only figure out a way to get past the person guarding the vault (which is a big problem, but more on that later), you have to find a way to actually open the vault itself. But, somehow, you have a plan. See, your first idea had just been to find somewhere to make yourself invisible long enough to scale the wall, then just cut through the spells on the windows of the top floor, similarly to how you broke into the princess’ chamber. But when doing your research, you found the Witch Queen, naturally, as a famous witch, didn’t guard her home with charms you could just cut off that easily. Obviously, she had in-house spellcrafters to make her charms for her and trying to cut them from the outside would just trigger them. But if you could find the charm at the point of creation….well then you might be able to do something. You made your way up from the dungeon and waited until the doors opened, allowing a shipment of spell-making supplies to come inside. Since you needed to get to the spellcrafting workshop anyway, you’d considered just sneaking into the tower itself with the supplies, but every shipment is thoroughly inspected for security and accuracy. You’d heard a rumor that a shipment had come up missing a key component the Queen had expected and in response, she’d turned the guard who had failed to properly inspect the shipment and the courier who had failed to properly fulfill her order it into a pair of boots and spent an hour kicking the merchant she’d ordered from in the stomach with them. A story like that had to be true. So sneaking in with the supplies was a no-go. But after the supplies were already in the tower, there was no reason for them to be inspected again until they were in the workshop. So you put your mask on, hold your breath and find yourself a crate big enough to fit in (you may have slipped a piece of jewelry to the courier to make sure they used an extra large crate with a loose board for a relatively unimportant part of the Queen’s order). Holding your breath as you travel up the stairs isn’t easy, but you’ve trained to be able to do it for longer. The box you’re hiding in eventually gets brought to a room and you hear a conversation. “Yes, yes, yes, put those ones over there. Her Grace will be in workshop tomorrow. Need to have everything out of boxes and on shelves by then.” “Want any help? Some of those crates were awful heavy.” “No, no, no, should be fine. Her Grace, very particular about how things are organized. Whole system. Better done myself.” “Right. She’s a stickler for inspection, too.” A chuckle could be heard as the crates were moved. “I hear she has some important project she’s working on.” “Yes, yes. Very important. Very very important. Very secret. Rank-and-file spellcrafters not told what it is. Only what materials to gather. Not willing to divulge to details to any outside of her chief crafter and her Queensguard. Hear rumors, though.” “Yeah? Rumors like what?” “Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm.” “Come onnnnnn. It’s just us.” “Hm. Hm. Alright. Hear Her Grace. Experimenting with her own mana.” “Pfffwhat? Why would she want to do that? She has the most powerful mana in the country.” “Yes. Yes. Yes. Have seen it. Studied it. Never seen anything like it. Like holding sun. In palm of my hand. Perfect. No room for improvement. None.” “Can’t imagine what she might want to do to change it, but….she must know what she’s doing.” “Yes. Yes. Her Grace, wisest witch in the land. Trust her.” “Alllright. That’s the last one. My shift is almost over. You want to meet at the bar after you’re done with this?” “Yes. Yes. Imbibing. Yes. Will be there.” Somewhere during that conversation, you released your breath. The conversation ends and the door closes to signal the guard has left. You hear the sound of crates opening. You grip your club and take another breath. The orange lamplight pours in when the top of the crate opens. You stand up and swing your club right at the diminutive bespectacled spellcrafter’s head. One swing puts them out instantly and you catch them before they hit the ground, the whole thing taking about three seconds and happening in complete silence. Poor bastard never saw it coming. You relieve them of their cloak and shove them in a closet. An ignominious moment in, you get the feeling, a dedicated career, but, they’ll be fine when they come to. You start looking around the workshop. From here, your plan had two options. One, you could find the charm they use on the windows and create a mixture that you could put on your knife to cut through it. That would let you climb the outside of the tower and go in and out of the windows without being detected. Or you could put on the cloak you just “borrowed” and pretend to be one of the Queen’s spellcrafters. As long as you were careful, one option would get you to the top floor and then you could use the other to get out safely. But neither would get you inside the vault. That was the hard part. The vault contained all of the greatest and most powerful treasures the Witch Queen had to her name, so the vault and its keys were guarded by the Queensguard, elite warrior-spellcasters sworn to protect the Witch Queen. When they were on duty, each member of the Queensguard kept a key to the vault on their person. Meanwhile, one member of the Queensguard would stand watch in front of the vault, a different one each day. Getting inside meant not only swiping a key off of one of them, it also meant somehow getting past one of them. These people were the best of the best, you weren’t gonna get them by sneaking up and whacking them once with your club. This was the crux of everything. Procuring the teleportation charm, digging the hole, figuring out a way into the workshop, that had all been relatively straightforward to plan and pay for. This was where most of the budget for the heist had gone, in terms of time, thought and coin. After about a hundred false starts and bad, unworkable plans, you had eventually come up with something, but you were going to have to execute it perfectly. It couldn’t be understated, these were some of the savviest, smartest, not to mention deadliest magic users in the country and they were all top-level swordswomen and men as well. You were going to need a bit of luck in even the best case scenario and if you made a mistake at any point, it was instantly curtains. If they didn’t strike you down right there, you’d be thrown before the Witch Queen and that was not an eventuality you felt comfortable dwelling on. You take a deep breath and hold up the cloak you had “borrowed” from the spellcrafter. Time to go.

This story is inspired by true story (kind of). My cousin is a doctor, who own’s his own eye center, and is 50 years older than his daughter. When I was 14 years old, my mom and I went to Seattle to visit her step sitter, who I didn’t know. On the, I got food poisoning, but I didn’t poop my pants (I threw up). We went to Vancouver, and my mom had call me on the store PA. Summer 2035 It's still unbelievable. It happened in the summer of 2025 when I was between sixth and seventh grade, a pivotal time for any twelve-year-old. Sixth grade is the last year of elementary school, and the last chance to be a kid, while seventh grade is the start of middle school, which is kind of like a mini-high school. It’s where the big kids go. I was almost a teenager, but there was a part of me that still wanted to be a little kid. The transition from childhood to teenager is both thrilling and intimidating, and it was even more complicated for me. You see, I was a bit of a miracle baby. My parents met when they were older, after they had given up hope of having children. My mom was forty, and my dad was fifty. They didn’t want to wait for the wedding, so they had me before they were married. My mom adores little kids. The only reason she waited so long is that it took her a while to meet the right person. She used to teach at a preschool, and she babysat my cousins when they were younger. However, by the time I was born, they were older and didn’t need a babysitter, so she focused all of her attention on me. Even now, in her sixties, she loves to take care of little kids. She writes children’s stories and frequently babysits for families in her neighborhood. As her only child, she kept me in the baby stage longer than usual. She nursed me until I was three, I slept in a crib until I was four, and I wasn’t fully potty-trained until I was five. Even after I stopped wearing diapers, I still had a bottle at bedtime. I used a pacifier until I finished kindergarten, and when my mom finally took it away, I sucked my thumb, which I did publicly until I was eight, and privately within my room until I was ten. My mom kept me in a stroller much longer than usual. My dad was a doctor, and owned a surgery center, so money was never an issue. He loves to travel, and he wanted me to see as much of the world as possible, so we traveled a lot when I was younger. I often wandered off, so my mom preferred using a stroller for its safety and convenience. When I was five years old, my mom was criticized by one of her friends. Her friend thought I was too old for a stroller, unaware that I was also wearing a diaper. Earlier that day, I had an accident, and my mom had a strict rule: if I wet my Pull-up, I had to wear a diaper for the rest of the day. We stopped using the stroller for a while, but then I got lost at a festival and was missing for over an hour. She thought my safety was more important than others’ opinions, and went back to using a stroller for two more years, which was until I was seven years old! Being the youngest, I was the last baby in the family. My aunties and cousins gave me plenty of attention, especially when I acted younger than I really was. When I was seven, during the summer between first and second grade, I had one of my last baby-like experiences. I went to an amusement park with my cousin, one of her friends, and her three-year-old nephew. By then, I hadn't worn diapers for years, not even at night. Mom stopped using the stroller a few months earlier, but she was still very protective. I was almost eight and too old for the women's restroom, but I wasn’t allowed to use a public bathroom by myself. I wore Pull-ups, just in case a family bathroom wasn’t available. I also had to ride in a stroller because My mom didn’t trust me to stay close to my cousin. I ended up being treated just like the three-year-old, including having my diaper changed. The babying stopped after my 8th birthday. Although it was a gradual change, it felt abrupt. All of a sudden, all my baby things disappeared, including my stroller. I guess my mom thought I was too old for them. When I used baby talk, mom told me to stop talking like that. When I wet my pants, she scolded me by saying, "Billy, you're too old for that!” Most of my childish habits faded away, but I still sucked my thumb. At that time, I was rarely around little kids. Since most of my mom’s friends were older than she was, their kids were older than me. I was usually the youngest in the group, often by several years. I was caught between being too old to be a little kid, and too young to be a big kid. I wanted to be like the older kids, but I was attracted to baby things, especially when we walked through the baby aisle in the grocery store. The phrase “I’m a Big Kid, Now!” always caught my eye. I would check weekly ads for diaper deals and, though I couldn’t explain it, I wanted to wear diapers again. We moved to Indonesia when I finished fifth grade. My dad retired, sold his practice, and taught at a medical school in Nusantara, Indonesia. He did it to seek a new challenge, explore another part of the world, and introduce me to diverse cultures. Nusantara is the new capital of Indonesia, and it was still under construction when we moved there. Although it had modern amenities, there weren’t very many people, especially other Americans. Since there wasn’t an American School, I was homeschooled online, which I preferred since I wasn’t comfortable with kids my age. My parents were friends with a couple that had two little kids: Lyon and Ophelia. When I met them, Lyon was four years old, and wasn’t fully potty trained, while Ophelia was two and hadn’t even begun. Their parents both worked, so my mom helped with daycare. They were at our house almost every day, and my mom helped potty train both of them. Ten months later, Ophelia was mostly potty trained, even during her nap. Unfortunately, Lyon regressed and needed to go back to diapers after his sister stopped using them. I was the big kid in the group. Even though I wasn’t old enough, or mature enough, to handle any of the real daycare responsibilities, I played with them. That kept them entertained, which seemed to help my mom. She told me that I was good with them, but really, I just wanted to play with them, like a little kid. For the first time since I was seven, our home had baby items again. I wanted to use them, but I didn’t want my mom to find out. One day, I tried on one of Lyon’s diapers and surprisingly, it still fit! However, I was too afraid to use it. While I wanted to be a little kid again, I also wanted to be a big kid. My mom became less protective, and let me do things by myself. She allowed me to stay home alone for the very first time, and within a few months, I became the babysitter myself. Though it was just for a short while, that transition from needing a babysitter to being one made me feel truly grown-up. We traveled nearly every month, since my dad was eager to explore as much of Southeast Asia as possible. With each trip, I became more independent. They let me go to the beach alone and gave me my own hotel room, where I could watch movies and stay up as late as I wanted. Meanwhile, my parents went to restaurants, and ate food that I wouldn’t like. After school ended, my mom and I went back to the U.S.; my dad stayed behind to teach. We stopped in Seattle to visit my mom's stepsister, who was technically my aunt, though I didn’t know her. She saw me when I was four, and I was too young to remember it. For me, I was excited about being a big kid on a long trip. When we moved to Indonesia, ten months earlier, I was unsure of myself, and stayed close to my mom. After a year of travel, I was confident, and independent. My mom let me go alone to McDonald’s or the pool, and I felt comfortable exploring near the hotel as long as I stayed close. Best of all, we were flying business class, which meant I got my own little cubby, and didn’t have to sit next to my mom. Unfortunately, I think I ate something questionable before we left. I don’t know what it was, but it hit me in the middle of the flight to Singapore. Just as we began our descent and the seatbelt sign lit up, things took a turn for the worse. I thought it was gas, but sadly, it wasn’t. Worst of all, I had to wait until we landed to clean up. It was incredibly embarrassing. I wanted my mom to help clean it up, but she couldn’t. I had to handle everything on my own and did my best. In the end, I threw away my underwear. Unfortunately, my stomach issues weren’t over. I almost had another accident on the way to the hotel, and I wasn’t as lucky after lunch. Thankfully it happened close to my hotel room, so it wasn’t as hard to clean up. Afterward, I stayed in my room, watching TV near a bathroom so I wouldn't risk pooping my pants again. My main worry was the long flight to Seattle, especially since I was running low on clean underwear. My mom was concerned too; she picked up some Pull-ups for me to use on the flight. They weren’t even Goodnites, they were actual Pull-ups, just like Lyon’s. She suggested, “Billy, I know that you’re worried about having another accident on the plane. I think you should wear one of these, just in case. If it happens again, you can just throw them away.” While I was secretly thrilled, I didn’t want my mom to know. I had to act disappointed, but not enough for her to change her mind. I cried out, “I’m not a baby!” She reassured me, “I know honey, but I don’t think you want another accident. What happened today was awful. I know it’s embarrassing, but not as much as having another accident. Nobody will know, and it’s just until your stomach settles.” I hesitated, “Do I have to?” Mom replied, “No, but you might have another accident.” In truth, I wanted to put them on right away, but I didn’t want my mom to know that. I protested, “That’s because I couldn’t get to the bathroom. That won’t happen tonight.” “Okay, you’re right. You don’t have to wear them tonight, but I think you should wear one tomorrow.” Regrettably, I protested too much. While I wanted to wear one that night, I had to wait until the morning. After I woke up, mom asked. “How is your tummy? Is it better?” In reality, I felt fine. When I pooped, it was normal, and I wasn’t worried about pooping my pants. However, that’s not what I told my mom. I didn’t want her to change her mind, so I said, “Okay, but it’s still a little uncomfortable.” “Did you poo this morning?” “A little, but it was runny.” “Alright, I think you better wear a Pull-up on the plane. Just in case you have a problem. After we land, you can take them off, and nobody will know about it. It will be our secret.” When I took it from my mom, I almost let my excitement show, but she didn't say anything. Once I put it on and checked myself in the mirror, there was nothing obvious to see. After I came out of the bathroom, my mom said, “I put a few more in your backpack. Hopefully, you don’t need them, but just in case. Remember, please let me know if you have an accident.” I knew I was going to have at least one accident. This was the last chance to wear a diaper, and I wasn’t going to waste it. It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. I had wanted to wear diapers for a long time, but I was always afraid. Now, not only could I wear one; I had my mom's permission to use it. Since I was in business class, and had my own cubby, nobody would know. I waited until we reached cruising altitude to do it, but I almost peed in it before we got on the plane. The wet Pull-up felt better than the dry one. I don’t know why, but I liked the squishiness. However, it created a problem. I was allowed to poo in it, but I didn’t know if I could pee in it. I didn’t know how my mom would react to me wetting myself, so I decided to wait until she went to sleep before changing it. However, I peed some more, and it leaked. It wasn’t a lot, but my mom noticed. Fortunately, she thought I was sleeping when it happened. When she saw it, she woke me up. “Billy, wake up. I think you leaked. Why didn’t you get up?” I shrugged, “I don’t know, I was sleeping.” Mom rolled her eyes. “Okay. Go clean up, and we’ll put a towel on your seat.” I needed another change a few hours later, and I was wet again after we landed. After we got off the plane, my mom asked, “Billy, do you need to go to the bathroom?” I shook my head, which was odd since I usually go straight to the bathroom after leaving the plane. For reasons that I still don’t understand, my mom reached over and squeezed the front of my Pull-up. She looked super disappointed, and said, “Oh Billy, you’re soaked.” She opened up my backpack and took out my last Pull-up. “What happened to the other one?” I played dumb. “What one?” Mom explained, “I put three Pull-ups in here. You used one when you leaked, and this is the last one. There should be one more.” I blushed, “I had another accident.” Mom looked dubious, “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?” “I was embarrassed, and you were sleeping.” Once again, I seemingly got away with it. I don’t think she was fully convinced, but she wasn’t mad. She replied, “Okay. Go put this on in the bathroom.” I sighed, “Do I have to? You said it was just for the flight.” My mom said, “Yes, you do. You’ll keep wearing them until we figure out what’s going on.” I reluctantly went into the bathroom to change out of my wet Pull-up, and put the new one on. When I came out, mom squeezed it to check if I was wearing it. Although my mom wasn't angry, she began to treat me more like a child. I was tired from jet lag, so she sent me to bed earlier than normal. She prompted me to use the bathroom, just like I was a child who needed to be reminded when to go. In Seattle, she held my hand, and at dinner, she cut my food into smaller pieces. My aunt and uncle thought I was still a little kid because the last time they saw me, I was in diapers. I showed subtle signs of regression that wasn’t expected in a twelve-year-old. I spilled my glass when I forgot to hold it upright. I made a mess while eating, and I developed nervous habits. At one point, I absentmindedly put my thumb in my mouth when I was anxious. I also had more accidents, but my Pull-ups concealed them. We arrived early in the morning on that first day, and I had an accident in the afternoon. That night, I wet my Pull-up and I had two more accidents the next day. I was wet again on the second night. I hadn’t wet my bed in three years, and suddenly I had five accidents in two days! On the second day of our trip, my mom called my dad. Even though he was 5,000 miles away and wasn’t a pediatrician, he was still a doctor. She asked if it was urgent or if it could wait until we got home. My dad talked to me about it and asked a lot of questions. Some of them were embarrassing, and I couldn't figure out why he wanted to know those things. It wasn’t until a few years later that I realized he was asking about wet dreams. Back then, I didn’t even know what a wet dream was. This led to the breaking point when my mom decided she had enough. If I was going to act like a baby, then I would be treated like one. It happened on the third day of our trip, while we were driving to Vancouver. We stopped at a Target, and I hate shopping with my mom. She browses every section regardless of what we need. I always get bored and wander off, which is why she used the stroller for such a long time. But those days had long since passed, and I usually waited at the front of the store for her to finish. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of us. As usual, I got bored and wandered off to explore the store. My first stop was the sports section, and then I moved on to the toys. After that, I aimlessly roamed the store, searching for my mom. When I couldn’t find her, I waited at the front of the store where the restaurant was. My mom eventually found me, and she was really mad. She asked, “There you are. Didn’t you hear the intercom?” I shrugged, “No, but I was waiting for you right here.” She said, “They had to call you on the intercom like a child.” She checked my Pull-up and sighed, “Billy! Not again.” Then she took my arm and led me away. I asked, “Where are we going?” “Since you can’t seem to act your age, I have to treat you like you’re a little kid.” My mom’s words stung, but she was determined. She firmly grabbed a cart and paused for a moment, considering whether to put me in the basket. I was obviously too big for that, so she dismissed the idea and headed straight for the baby section. Without hesitating, my mom put the largest size Pampers into the basket. She continued down the aisle, adding baby powder and a pacifier to the cart. As a final measure, she selected a stroller, pulled it out, and said, “Get in.” I cried, “What?” “You heard me, get in. I want to see if you fit.” “But why?” “I can’t trust you to stay close to me, so now you have to ride in a stroller.” “But mom, please.” “Don’t start with me. And don’t make a scene.” I recognized her tone and knew there was no point arguing about it. Reluctantly, I climbed into the stroller; and, to my surprise, I fit. My aunt pushed the shopping cart while my mom pushed the stroller. We headed to the self-checkout lane. Thankfully, that meant no one saw me. After we paid for everything, Mom approached the greeter and asked, “Is there a place I can take him to the bathroom?” The lady responded, “The men’s bathroom is right over there.” Mom clarified, “No, you don’t understand. I need to take care of his diaper.” Realizing the situation, the greeter explained, “Oh, I see. The family bathroom is between the two.” Mom led me into the bathroom, with the package of size 7 Pampers. As we stepped out, a woman with a young boy looked at us. Mom caught her eye and said, “Well, if he won’t use the potty like a big boy, I don’t have a choice.” After we got to the car, my aunt asked, “Does he need a car seat?” I cried, “No Mom! Please! I’m not a baby.” Mom took out the pacifier and said, “If you’re going to pout, suck on this.” I sat in the back seat, sulking, determined to make things as difficult as I could. If she was going to treat me like a baby, I might as well play the part. I pooped in my diaper, on purpose. The smell was so bad that we had to stop at a rest area. However, the bathroom was disgusting, and rather than making me lie on the floor, she changed my diaper in a quiet spot. Even if she was mad, she didn’t act that way. She changed it the same way that she did with Lyon, without shaming me. My attempt to punish her for putting me in a diaper clearly failed. The next stop was Vancouver, and things didn’t get easier from there. Rather than bringing a rollaway bed, they brought a crib to our room. I remember the bellboy pausing when he saw me. Thankfully, he kept it to himself. Mom wasted no time in making her expectations clear. She looked me in the eye and said the words that made my heart sink, “Until the wetting stops, you’re staying in diapers. And all of this,” pointing to the crib, diaper bags, and everything else that came with them, “will stay until you’re out of diapers. Do you understand?” Overwhelmed, I broke down in tears. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m not a baby!” Mom stood firm. “Nope, I’m not having it. You had your chance. Since you’re acting like a baby, I have to treat you like one. I’ll treat you like a big kid when you start acting like one.” I cried, “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry about it. It’s what you wanted, so it’s what you’re getting.” She turned out the lights, and said, “Go to sleep, it’s time for your nap.” After we returned to Seattle, my aunt set up the crib she used for her grandson, and I sat in his highchair. The sleeping arrangements changed throughout our trip. I slept in a crib when one was available, but if not, I used a regular bed. Sometimes I sat in a highchair, but my mom never made me sit in one at a restaurant. However, The diapers and stroller were constant for the entire summer. Despite it all, I accepted my fate. Mom made it clear: I would stay in diapers until I stopped wetting them, and I would be treated like a baby until I was out of diapers. I didn’t know that I was supposed to let her know when I needed to go, so I used my diaper without telling her. I just waited until she checked. Finally, at the end of our vacation, Mom looked at me, “Billy, tell me the truth. Do you like this?” Her question caught me completely off guard. I stammered, “What?” She smiled knowingly. “Stop that. Billy, it’s been two months, and you’ve whined less in those months than you have in years. I think you like this.” I couldn’t help but cry out, “That’s because you make me suck on my binky when I whine.” Mom wasn’t convinced. She looked me in the eye “And it looks like you like it.” Her words lingered in the air, making me think about everything that had happened. Mom then said, “It’s okay if you like it. And if that’s how you feel, I’m willing to continue, but there will be some rules around it.” I couldn’t hide the hopefulness in my voice, no matter how much I tried. “There will be rules?” She said, "When you decide to be a baby, you'll stay that way. You’ll have the same rules that we have right now, and it will stay that way until I know you’re ready to be a big kid.” “How long will that be?” She replied, “It depends. You’ll need to be potty trained first. After you’re potty trained, I’ll give you big kid underwear, and you’ll be a big kid, with big kid rules. Until then, you’ll stay in diapers, with baby rules. I wondered what my mom meant by being potty-trained again. I asked, “What do you mean? How are you going to potty train me again?” She smiled and replied, “Silly boy, I’m going to do the same thing that I did with Ophelia and Lyon.” I pressed further, “Are we starting now?” Mom shook her head and reassured me, “No, not yet. I don’t think you’re ready, and I don’t want to deal with that until we get home.” Any doubt about wanting to stay in diapers vanished after my next question. I looked at Mom and asked, “What do I do when I want to go back to diapers?” She answered, “Well, you can ask, but even if you don’t, I’ll know.” “How?” Mom said, “If you have an accident, I know that means you want to be a baby, so I’ll put you in a diaper and let you be a baby until you’re ready to be a big kid again.” As I listened, I found myself thinking: do I want to be a big kid, or do I want to stay this way?

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?"

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female domination (some male) Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Corruption, abuse of power, and shady dealings This story has not been labeled as mature, however, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Previously... Before we begin, I just wanted to add this little blurb. For those interested, the first installment of this trilogy can be located in the link after, but for those who just want a quick refresher, I have the following: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/88699-a-walk-into-the-unknown-a-diaper-dimension-story-chapter-25-complete/ In a bargain with Psyche New Beginnings, a subsidiary of Oasis Opportunities and Juventas, Patrick Henderson traveled to the so-called Diaper Dimension. In exchange for five years living under an Amazon, or more commonly known as a ‘Big,’ through the advanced medical research and knowledge of the other dimension, they would reverse his paralyzed legs condition, a result of a guilt-laden drive that forced him into a wheelchair five years prior and claimed the life of his mother as well. Under the loving guidance of Nurse Addy Pepperidge, Patrick interviewed several Big candidates to be his caregiver while he attended therapy to ease his guilt and help him walk again. Over the course of three months, he began to walk again and though dodging many unsavory potential caregivers and an evil scientist, he soon found himself embroiled in a plot to force him into an unwilling permanent babyhood. Through the shady and underground dealings of the facility, Patrick was able to be rescued, though in the end with the loss of some of his maturity and nearly all the maturity of his similarly captured friend. Electing another two caregivers with his friend, however, Patrick learned self-acceptance of his current life and even served as ring bearer on the day his two new caregivers were eventually married. Now, faced with a new candidate, Nurse Addy Pepperidge strives to find her own Little as she balances her needs after losing a previous Little, Mindy, the needs of Psyche New Beginnings, and the sinister underhanded plot growing ever so steadily from behind closed doors. Hey everyone! Happy New Year and welcome back! At the beginning of this story, I just want to note that as likely you see below, I’m dividing this story up into sections, three to be exact. Part of this is simply due to the story structure and a little bit as an homage to the first story in this trilogy, but I also want to do something different this time. Instead of barreling through this story all at once, at the end of each section (so two times), I will be taking at least a week-long break. I hope this will prevent the burnout, frustration, and the overwhelming pressure I put on myself normally, as well as a chance to catch up on future chapters, plot points, and ensure that the story is going where I want it to. Considering there are three sections and right now at least ten chapters per section, I think this will be a good thing. So… at the end of each section, I will give you all a more definitive date when the next section will be posted. Next, despite my hesitation from my last story, I’m still willing to put up a poll for my next story at least. I might rethink that after this one depending on how this story is received/how I feel about it, but for now, be on the lookout for a poll come the next chapter or so. I’m still debating which stories I should place in the poll this time, so if anyone has a specific request, please let me know. Also, for anyone continuing off my last story might recall, or for anyone new to this one, I am debating whether or not I should create a wiki of sorts for the Diaper Dimension. There’s frankly a lot of information out there, which makes sense considering it’s a whole other world, but things are getting hard to keep up with, and while I love my reference guide, I know it can be a bit tricky looking things up from my own personal experience these days. So… I basically want to use a pretty basic wiki-like site where you can navigate through these various aspects. I think it could also help with some of the maps I’ve created, and as a bonus, most anyone signed in can edit the pages, so for new writings, they can be added quickly. But… it is a bit of a lift, so, if no one actually wants this, I want to know first before I dive into yet another project. As such, linked below, I have a poll with different options you can select with the add-on this time of comments being possible as well. https://strawpoll.com/poy9kDaNpgJ Now… last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my new story! Part 1: New Beginnings, Same Story Chapter 1: A Familiar Path… Sometimes Addy sat at her desk by her window and looked out over the horizon, hoping for a new chance… a new possibility to find happiness here. She always felt that way on move-in day and thought that feeling would never go away working here at Psyche New Beginnings. A nurse that had graduated at the top of her class and already had a number of years under her belt here and with connections on the board, she was dedicated to Psyche New Beginnings, Juventas, and their purposeful mission here. She wasn’t one of the more fair-weather nurses coming in here to solely find their Little and blow out of here just as quickly as they had arrived. But she was a Big, and simply put, Bigs wanted a Little in their life. It was biological… something deep in all Bigs when it came to Littles… doubly so when it came to portal Littles. Maybe it was the fact that they all seemed so helpless on their less advanced and comparatively dirty Earth, but each portal Little was essentially catnip to any Big they came across over here. Most Bigs could control it, but for others… Addy shook her head and looked back out her window. Those types of Bigs… the ones that go overboard and hurt their Little to ensure their compliance… she just never could stand them. She was a nurse after all and felt strongly there was just something wrong about hurting Littles to make them the ‘perfect Little.’ Working here was a fine line for sure, but her charges never left broken or upset if she could help it. And that was the other part of all this. She was a nurse and she wanted to help them. There was a noble service to all this, and while there will always be that one tough case, seeing all the Littles choose their caregivers on selection day is a scene that one would have to see to believe. No disease or dismemberment… just smiles and hugs… and all that starts from day one, aka, move-in day. So, when she looked out and saw the bus pull up once more to the gate in the distance, she practically jumped out of her seat to see her new arrivals as they came. Checking her files once more, she couldn’t wait to meet either of the two assigned to her. Excited and taking the time to have vetted them personally, she knew just about everything there was to know about her two new patients. Even after weeks of combing over their files, seeing their names still caused a little flutter to arise in her heart. ‘Franklin and Mindy…’ Dashing downstairs, she stopped right at the entrance and adjusted her scrubs and made sure she didn’t have a single hair out of place. The first day was always plain scrubs and her pink set had become a sort of tradition after wearing the same after her last four patients. “Good arrivals this time, Addy?” Penny questioned Addy while adjusting her bracelet once more. “I think so. Always hard to tell the ins and out, you know?” Addy sighed, remembering back to a few of her more unsavory patients since she had come here. They were rare and they still left happy… but the journey to get them there hadn’t exactly been easy. “I always just hope for two happy Littles by the end. You?” “Oh, I go in for something a little different…” Penny mused, now applying some last-minute touch-ups to her makeup. “I kind of like seeing the little one’s regress and all. Bigger they are… the harder they fall. Always love seeing those first moments when they lose control…” Addy didn’t want to raise a stink… especially with the Littles arriving any second now, but it didn’t prevent a slight scowl from forming over her face either. She managed to hide it before Penny could see, but a distaste still lingered in her mind about her coworker. Littles were lost and scared and weak and confused… but for her, that just meant they needed more care… more love… more patience. Not everyone believed the same she knew… but a fellow nurse loving when a Little regressed just felt wrong to her. Still, sighing a little, the final nurse soon joined just as the shuttle from the portal hub screeched to a halt outside. “Okay ladies…” Dr. Halgen noted, her eyes scanning each of her nurses carefully. “I want this batch tended to and toured before dinner. Keep it simple and show them the ropes and nothing more. They’re here for three months and details can be touched later. Understood?” “Yes, ma’am!” they all chanted in unison. Satisfied, Dr. Halgen let out a little smirk and nodded curtly before disappearing back into her office… now awaiting each new Little to be briefed about all the finer details of the contract they all signed willingly. Through the glass, Addy could see the Littles already disembarking. As Dr. Halgen readied her performance of intimidation for the new Littles behind her closing door to her office, Addy elected to prep her cheeriness and smile for her new arrivals. Justifying it to herself over and over, she felt that she and whatever cure they were offering the littles here were the metaphorical carrots to this place while all the other regressions, punishments, intimidations, and tiny points of fear were most definitely the sticks. So, if she was going to be the carrot to these poor fragile Littles, she felt it was best to be the best carrot she could. Just as the lift could be heard outside, the nurses began filing out one at a time to greet their Littles. Taking a breath, Addy followed right behind and soon began to search for the memorized faces of her two new charges. The first she found was Franklin. Late-stage AIDS, he was a holdout from another time on Earth. With most diseases now cured and that disease nearly eradicated, Franklin got the short end of the stick when it turned out he was highly allergic to the cure that Earth currently possessed. His gaunt form and lesions were a testament to another time and Addy made sure to shake his hand carefully as he shuffled over to her and the other nurses. “Franklin…” she said, coming up to him. “I’m Addy. I’m going to be your nurse while you’re here. It’s good to finally meet you.” He coughed for a second and then shakily held his hand out to greet her back. “Good… to meet you… Addy…” She smiled and gladly shook his outstretched hand. “Perfect. In a second, I’ll get you inside, give you a tour… show you around and then you can meet with our director here for a little orientation. Sound good?” Struggling to say anything without coughing, Franklin eventually just nodded. Addy’s heart went out to him, and she quickly made a mental note to adjust his environmental controls and priorities of treatment here to fix his breathing. Problems there could mean problems down the line and prevention of him from having fun while the others zoomed around him on the playground in the second and third month here. After a moment, as the others began to filter into the facility, Addy began to look around for her second Little… Mindy. “Hmmm… wonder where she is…” “Oh… the other girl? Wheelchair?” Franklin quickly managed to ask before coughing once more. “I think so.” Addy got a lot about them, but seating arrangements on the shuttle were usually random, as well as the order in which they got off… unless they were wheelchair-bound. “Oh… there she is.” The last one off, the dark-haired Little slowly was pushed over to Franklin and her by the bus driver. Only nodding before getting back on his bus, Addy could only gawk at the Little now before her and the two sides she was now seeing. One was why she was here… wheelchair, IV bag, gaunt, pale… a stiff breeze looked like it could knock her down. The other though, shone out against all that. Colorful clothing, little stickers, wide eyes, and a big bright green beanie in the shape of a frog complete with two eyes sticking out at the top. In one word… adorable. “H… hi…” the Little managed to squeak out. Addy almost had to slap herself to not just go over and hug the Little right away. Instead, she remembered her training and smiled wide. “Hello there. And you must be Mindy…” * * * “Mindy!” Addy awoke back in her room in her rocking chair, apparently having fallen asleep around midday in a nap of some kind. Wanting to distance herself from this place after her last patients a little, she had taken a long vacation and saw several countries and relaxed on multiple beaches… and endured one long flight back just a few days ago. She never could shake off jet lag… And frankly, between that and knowing what was ahead of her today, she almost didn’t want to be here now. It’s probably why she was thinking of Mindy… once again. Back then, she was full of hope and optimism. She had her heart broken a few times before then for sure, but after Mindy and Patrick and Cara and at least a half dozen others she had truly bonded with… it was hard to feel that way anymore. Looking outside, the weather almost seemed to mimic her own dour attitude today. With the way these things moved, she had skipped a month and was now back… but in January and at the start of a new year. A little over a week ago, she was just leaving one of the beaches in Itali to meet with her dad for Christmas. It was worth it to see him again… but now in the state of Crescentia in the winter. Well, the weather left a lot to be desired… Getting out of her chair, she stretched wide and looked around, choosing to focus on her wall of success. Each Little there was another life she had helped guide from whatever state they were in and into the arms of a loving Big. By now, a few of their contracts had finished and they were back on Earth. A few, like Patrick, were still here, and after seeing him, Cara, Lloyd, and Sam all together as one family… she honestly had doubts he would be leaving after five years. For her, it didn’t matter whether they returned to Earth though… just that they were happy. “I guess just not me though…” She sighed and seeing the time, she knew she needed to review her files and checklist once more. Going back over to her desk, she tenderly stroked the tiny picture of Mindy that she kept as a reminder of her. Not a failure in the sense of a dropout of the program, but definitely not a success to the ache of her heart, she held a special place still. In essence, she was a constant reminder of the stakes of this place and why every Little needed her full attention and care. Sometimes, that didn’t always work out… but Addy knew she always had to try… always had to be vigilant. Looking back down, first up… Katrina McLane. Addy sighed and still had several questions about her and some of what she had seen in her file. “Stage 2 bone cancer… eager… potentially ideal candidate for program.” She had seen it before. After all, anyone being told they were sick or hurt and finding out they could be fixed… cured… whatever they wanted to call it, there was no surprise they would be so happy. But for Katrina… the oddity came with her item to be helped here. Yes, it was cancer, and yes, it still wasn’t even something they could joke about or brush off in this dimension… but on Earth, there was a definite and affordable cure. It wasn’t a red flag for Addy necessarily… just a question she would keep tucked in the back of her mind when meeting her and assessing the candidates that Kelsey… Dr. Halgen set up for her. ‘Need to get back in the habit of calling her that in front of the other Littles right now. I know she definitely still wants to be viewed as the stern one around here…’ She knew better of her friend and her big heart though… she was still the boss however and that came with certain expectations. Here, with the board, or even the antique government regulations… Shaking her head of that nonsense, she moved to her next charge… one who’s file raised even more eyebrows as he was officially announced as the next candidate for the program. “Oliver Maxson… stage 4 skin cancer… sufferer of anxiety and PTSD likely linked to former career at DEA.” Those were the basics for him… but a lot of the other stuff was now blacked out. She had seen his file before, the night of her last choosing ceremony back in November where Patrick had elected Sam and Lloyd and had gone off with Cara as well… but now it looked like a toddler had decided to have fun with a black marker all over his file. Several sections had been redacted and now contained only a handful of words, no doubt a cover-up of some kind from his government back on Earth. ‘Curious… concerning, but curious… Just what did you do, Oliver?’ Addy made a mental note of asking Dr. Halgen about him more in-depth later when they both had a free moment. “Wonder when…” Suddenly, a flock of birds sprang from the distant trees and headed back toward the local town just beyond the borders of their facility here. From seeing it several other times before, Addy stood up... knowing full well that they would only fly away like that for one reason… the front gate had just opened. The new patients were arriving… Sighing, she moved from her two files to the checklist she always made sure to go through before anyone arrived. “Let’s see… already got on the phone with the ordering company to ensure I had the training pants, pull-ups, and diapers already on standby. Last time, I had to fight with Penny for who got the only box of diapers left in the house…” She momentarily shuddered at the thought. “It’s one thing to put a Little in diapers… would be quite something else if we suddenly ran out.” Her eyes then continued to scan the list, going through all the variables she could at least control for now. There were a lot of things to be determined once she met with the Littles and they were able to perform their own scans once in house. Earth machines were notoriously unreliable with the types of data they needed for their own treatments, and they could always uncover something more or something complicated that they weren’t initially anticipating. Like with what happened with Mindy… Finally, though, pointing down her list, everything seemed to be done… except one. “Drats! Room check. Always forget to do that.” She stood up and made sure her wristband was firmly attached to her wrist. “Just never know with our contractors. Reliable nearly always… but I don’t want some Little to smell baby powder on their first day here in their room. My job is usually hard enough without them freaking out over a smell…” Addy quickly looked in the mirror, adjusted a few strands of her hair back into place and quickly took off downstairs, being sure to swiftly check that the two rooms were all ready for her new charges to check off the last item on her to do list. Having only emptied yesterday, the workers made quick work of transforming the rooms back into the previously drab spaces… instead of the basically nurseries they had been at the end of a patient’s three months here. Stepping inside, she made sure to knock on the hidden compartment to ensure it remained closed… now all stocked up and ready for the next patient’s use of what was inside. She then sniffed… only new paint and some lemon. ‘Good. No need to scare the Littles off by smelling dirty diapers, baby powder, or anything else from whoever was in here last.’ Ensuring everything was clean and all prepared, and doing the same for the other, Addy stepped back out and closed the door of each room her Little patients would soon occupy. Nodding, she headed back downstairs. This time, only Erin was there. “Oh? Look who decided to rejoin us,” she said jokingly. “Decided that Itali was just so horrible at last that coming back to tantrums, dirty diapers, and vomit was the life for you?” Addy smirked and gave her a quick hug. “It’s good to see you too, Erin. Heard you took a month off as well.” Erin nodded and grinned widely. “Yep! Was a little more local than you, but I finally got to see the forests up in Oreneron and Columbia. You know that there’s some local trying to use the DNA resurfacing project to introduce an actual Big Foot up there?” Addy shook her head. “No… I didn’t actually.” She then could plainly see the bus stop in front of the entrance and took a deep breath. “So, you ready?” As the last nurse filed down the stairs, Erin looked a little apprehensive but still nodded. “Yeah… never know with these Littles though, right?” Addy thought back to her own… to Mindy and quickly nodded… right as the third nurse joined her to the left. “Hey, you two!” she quickly greeted. “Sorry for rushing. I’ve got two hot ones coming in. Halgen says they’re a handful… even now. Can you imagine that? How about your alls?” Erin leaned over and gave a little wave. “Hey Cassandra…” “Cassie,” she quickly interrupted. “Please… the Littles can’t say my name worth a darn in it’s fullest by the end half the time. Just got used to the short and simple version. Faster for everyone, you know?” Erin and Addy both nodded. “Right… interesting cases for me as well,” Addy confirmed, reflecting on her own name of Addison never being used around here for the same reason. “Same…” Erin joined as well. “Wonder if this round is going for a record or something…” The shuttle from the portal depot at last began to unload as Cassie shook her head. “No… I think it’s the new year or something. Psyche and Juventas and Oasis and all want to start off the new year with strong numbers, I think. It’s this way for most years when I’ve been on this shift. But hey… I heard your Little is a jumper. Is that right?” Addy nodded, the term was a little distasteful but not altogether inaccurate either. “Yeah… I was supposed to get him right after my last candidates went out… but I guess the Little got scared or unnerved or something right before he left for the portal facility. Not sure really, but the company went with another at the last minute to meet their quota and I decided it was a sign to get out and take my vacation at last. Yolanda ended up covering for me and sent me a few updates while I was away.” “Just between us nurses… that was probably for the best,” Cassie chuckled. “I heard with the last batch that two have washed out already. Got booted from the program and everything! I thought that only happened with the ones assigned to me!” “Tough cases all around,” Dr. Halgen interjected, briefly coming out from her office and stopping their conversation cold. “Addy… Cassie… Erin…” She nodded to each of her nurses for this next batch and took a deep breath. “You three know the drill. Tours and orientation with me. Try to make these Littles feel at home though… as you all have seen from the files I gave you; this class might be… interesting. Still… stay vigilant, tough, and…” She looked out the window as a few of the Littles began making their way to the entrance. “And good luck!” She then closed her double doors, and Addy and the others were left nearly speechless. Dr. Halgen was normally somber about this whole thing, but now… she almost seemed cheery. Not a bad thing… just different to see so publicly. Before any of them could ask each other about her though, the screech and momentary grinding of the wheelchair platform lowering quickly alerted them back to their main priority. So, nodding to each other, one by one, each exited the home to greet their newly arrived Littles. The chilly January air greeted each of them along with the sickly, unamused, or nearly catatonic Littles in front of them. Having done this several times by now, there was still a part of Addy’s heart that broke just a little bit on the first day. While each represented an opportunity for fun and learning and healing… each also came to them on the brink of death or disable or with some sort of disablement or disease. Tiny, fragile, and looking steps from death or even with a few shivering from the cold or just their nerves… Addy wanted nothing more than to go to each and hug them until they were okay. But her training was thorough and the more rational part of her mind knew that doing something like that on today of all days was just a plain bad idea. Unlike the other two batches of Littles from the previous two groups already inside, these Littles weren’t ready for that sort of interaction… yet. They needed to be coddled and cared for absolutely, but that would take time. Even without the small quantities of drugs slipped into their meals or the little notes of subliminal hypnosis at night however, Addy knew completely that they would all get their eventually. Pushing through the wandering Littles, as Erin and Cassie quickly found their Littles, Addy had to search for hers. The other four newly arrived Littles were morose, upset, brooding, or just nearly slumped over or dragging themselves to move an inch. As Addy made her way over to the bus, however, a quick wave alerted her to the bus. “Over here! Over here!” one of the Littles shouted, Addy quickly recognizing her as the curious Katrina. “We need help! Lift got stuck!” Looking further, Addy quickly made out the bus driver fiddling with a nearby lever to the platform, where a frail but clearly unamused Little sat in their wheelchair. Bundled up like he was, it was harder to tell who was being lowered down, unlike the boisterous Katrina… but squinting just a bit, even with the gauntness of his disease changing his looks a little, Addy knew who it was. ‘Oliver…’ Hurrying over, the bus driver quickly spotted Addy. “Hey you! I need a hand here!” Nodding, Addy came over and after giving a tiny wave to both Oliver and Katrina looked back at the bus driver. ‘Definitely not how I would want to meet my next to charges here…’ She sighed and waited for the bus driver to tell her what needed to be done. “Lousy old mechanics…” He groaned and shook his head. “Okay… I got the mechanics working again, but I need just an extra pair of hands to wrench this lever down for the hydraulics to kick in. Think you can help?” he questioned, wiping his forehead for a minute. ‘So that’s why the bus took so long out here… I thought I was going to be late seeing everyone…’ Addy looked at the offered lever and nodded. “Yep. No problem. Just tell me when to yank.” The bus driver stepped aside a little and gripped the lever low and let Addy take the high spot. Taking a deep breath in, he looked back at Addy. “Now!” Addy pulled down with all her might and the lever finally dropped down fully. Finally, the platform screeched and it lowered down fully. A few of the others looking on started to clap. “Need any help over there?” Erin asked, her timing impeccable as always. “Or do you all have it?” Addy wiped her hands off and shook her head. “No. It’s all good now. You all go inside and start your tours and orientation. I’ll go last this time.” Seeing a nod from both Erin and Cassie, they and their Littles soon disappeared inside. She normally liked going first but seeing the oddly chipper Katrina and the dour Oliver… taking a second might be better. With the platform lowered, Addy raced to get behind Oliver… but he rushed away before she could grip the handlebars behind him to be pushed by. “I’ve got it…” he said coldly before wheeling up to the front entrance. Addy froze for just a moment. ‘Okay… stubborn Little. Something about him though… Why do I feel I’m going to find a crack in that built-up armor of his before too long?’ Sighing, she looked over at Katrina. “Hey there. Sorry about all that…” The driver didn’t even bother saying anything else and quickly retracted the platform, causing the Little and Big to jump out of the way. Katrina blinked at the scene and jumped further away when the shuttle skidded off back down the hill, but recovering, she then warmly smiled back at Addy. “Well, that was interesting… but I’m Katrina.” Her hand nearly shot from her side like a cannon had suddenly launched it away. Addy looked down at the offered gesture and shook it back quickly. “Very good to meet you, Katrina. I’m Nurse Addy… but plain old Addy works just fine.” Seeing the Little shiver in the cold, Addy gestured back to the house. “How about we get inside out of this weather and then we can talk more?” Her eyes drifted over to a slightly struggling Oliver as he attempted to make his way up the ramp provided and into the house. “Him as well…” “Oh… don’t mind him,” Katrina said with a sigh. “Nothing against you, I think. Seems a bit of a loner. I don’t think he said one word on the bus the whole way over.” “Hmmm… guess we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?” Addy noted, much to sheepish grin of Katrina. Smiling as well, the two joined Oliver and quickly sat in the main room. What followed was likely some of the most disjointed and lopsided introductory events that Addy had ever experienced as a nurse on move-in day here. Katrina was bubbly, outgoing, and seemed eager to learn about everything. The trio’s conversation in the front living room went nicely with her and Addy learned all sort of random things about her ranging that she grew up all over, moving from state to state… all the way to the fact that she could tie a cherry with her tongue. She was an oddity compared to the rest… but also likely an easy candidate here. Oliver though… was difficult. Questioning him was like pulling teeth in the extreme. Each answer he gave was either one or two words at best… a grunt at worse, and all followed or proceeded by an angry or dismissive glare. His tour was quiet and resigned… and Dr. Halgen even looked worried when he rolled out of her office himself afterward. “Everything okay with him?” Addy questioned as she watched him head off into the elevator alone after he had dismissed her completely from helping him out. Dr. Halgen sighed but nodded. “Yes. Our office back on Earth vetted him fully. See his file?” “Yes, but…” She recalled all the pages in it, but all the redactions as well. “Kind of empty now. Doesn’t look like the same Little you showed me last time.” Dr. Halgen stretched back and drummed her fingers for a moment. “Well… that file got pulled the morning after. Apparently, his government didn’t like everything contained in it. I’m pushing to get more released to us, but… for the moment, you’re going to have to go in a little blind while digging deep with him as well.” “I figured…” she admitted. “Guys like him in this program always take a second.” “True… but I also think that this could be from what I briefly read in his file.” She looked around for a moment and lowered her voice a little bit before leaning forward, something Addy reciprocated. “The anxiety and PTSD… not sure what it’s about, but something’s also telling me that after being alone with all what happened, he’s built layers of protection around himself against others.” In one of the few spots not redacted, Addy remembered that at least. “His file did mention that…” “Yes, and as I said, I’m looking to pull more, but from what I remember when his file first came across my desk…” She then stretched and looked behind Addy as if to check if anyone was listening before looking back at her seriously. “I don’t remember everything all this time later… but make sure you have a monitor in his room at night…” Addy’s brows furrowed and she tried to figure out what Dr. Halgen seemed to be implying. “A mon…?” “Dr. Halgen!” Federica, the facility cook called out, running in her office like her hair was on fire. “Xander is in my kitchen! He has a knife and I can’t get it back from him, and Cassie is with Robin in the bathroom!” She then stops and sees Addy. “Oh… hey Addy…” Dr. Halgen bolted out of her seat right away but kept her outer calm demeanor except now broiling over with authority. “Keep him calm and away from the others, Federica. Go now.” Federica nodded to both and ran back out of the office and to the kitchen… where Addy could now hear the faintest of someone shouting. Sighing, Dr. Halgen returned her gaze back to Addy. “For now… I suggest patience.” She began to walk over and out of the room, gesturing for Addy to follow her as well. Just as the two made it to close her doors, however, Dr. Halgen stopped and looked Added dead in the eye. “Tonight. Come to my office. Alone. We need to talk…” Before Addy could even slip another question or comment, Dr. Halgen had already hurried away. For the next few hours, uncertainty and chaos reigned supreme in the facility. Xander, suffering heavily from Alzheimer’s, was finally taken down and calmed to the point where he didn’t say a word for the rest of the night. Addy suspected drugs were involved somehow… but regardless of his demeanor, his actions set the whole house on edge. The other nurses, like Yolanda and Penny, managed to keep the spirits of their Littles up and keep them away from most of chaos… but a show like Adventure Sam could only keep them occupied for so long. Seeing all the Littles, most of which have already started to descend into childish notions and some form of protective undergarment and sport some kind of childish clothing… were a sight to behold. Addy couldn’t help but feel her heart soaring just a little as she looked at them while Oliver and Katrina picked over their food silently. Each of the more progressed Littles were like a balm for her worries over the current batch that had just arrived today. She felt more than up to the task, but there was still something bothering her about even her relatively calm Littles. They weren’t wielding a knife, yes… but there was still something about them she couldn’t quite shake. Which is probably why when she made sure to tuck each of her charges in, she made sure that she had a monitor in both of their rooms. Katrina was first and went along willingly with most everything. Curiously, if there was ever a decision to be made by her, she always seemed to lean toward the option that she would suspect more from a second or even third month Little here… not someone on their first day. That being said, as she entered Oliver’s room, she almost wished that he would already be a little more like her. “I see you’re almost all ready to hit the hay. Need anything from me before I head up as well?” she questioned, hoping for more than a one-word answer from her new patient. “No.” He then took a breath… but this time it wasn’t to sigh or to get ready to groan or outright dismiss her like he had done for the rest of the day so far. Instead, this was more like he had something else he wanted to say… something pressing and clearly worrying him. Nerves or pride though… he ultimately stayed quiet. So, standing there in his minimalistic furnished room, Addy couldn’t decide what to do. On one hand, he had been crabby all day and pushing him now could only potentially make that worse, end his day poorly, and put them both off to a rocky start on this journey of theirs. On the other hand, though, his little hesitation wasn’t much, but it was something, and Addy couldn’t help but view it as a little spark. Barely anything, but maybe just the thing she needed to fan a bit to get a fire going between them. Instead of either option though, she went in the safer direction and held her position rather than overcrowding the Little. “You know… I know this place can be a lot, and I know I might represent everything you fear from this dimension, but… I would like to be your friend… or at least your nurse here. I’ve seen your medical file, so I know you need at least a little bit of help here. I’ll make sure you get your treatments to get better, but… if you ever need or even just want something more from me… just ask. No annoyance or judgement… just me helping where I can…” Not expecting any acknowledgement, with a little sag in her soul, she turned around. “Thank you…” It was small, fuzzy, barely above a whisper… but definitely present. Turning back around, Addy smiled at her new charge, still sitting up in his bed and ready to go to sleep. It was just for a moment, but she could see a fleck of vulnerability… of need. Thinking back to what Dr. Halgen remembered, maybe it was the night… or maybe it was just him being courteous. But either way, she made sure to keep up her end of manners if nothing else. “You’re very welcome…” With one breath, she then flicked off his lights and walked out without saying another word. As she closed his door though, she blinked and whispered. “Goodnight, Oliver… sweet dreams…” No one heard her today or any of the other first days she had here, but it was just the tiniest little thing she did with all her Littles. Of the dozens of Littles that she had helped in one way or another by now, she surmised only a handful could hear that sentiment on their first day in person. She almost told it to Katrina if she hadn’t almost immediately laid down in bed and shut her eyes earlier. Most, however, simply weren’t ready for that level of affection. ‘Soon… always soon…’ Resolved that both were tucked in at least for the standards that Psyche New Beginnings wanted them to follow, Addy soon ventured back over to the stairs, passing both Erin and Cassie as they tucked in their own Littles. With the severity and variety of their own Littles this round, their nightly ministrations took a little longer. So, taking advantage of their distraction, she made her way downstairs and made sure to softly knock on Dr. Halgen’s door. “Enter…” her soft voice came from inside. Opening up her doors, Addy entered quietly and made sure to shut them right away. Based on her tone earlier, Addy knew that something was up. “You still wanted to see me tonight?” Dr. Halgen sighed and swiveled over in her chair and nodded silently before gesturing to the two chair she had by her now roaring fireplace. The room was dark, somber, but exuded a specific warmth in certain places. Sighing though, Dr. Halgen sat in her chair first and Addy quickly followed in the opposite one. There was a moment of silence, and even after, Dr. Halgen only took a deep sip of her drink. Based on her little quiver after, Addy suspected there was some kind of liquor in it. “So… how are your new charges shaping up? Not too difficult I take it?” Addy shook her head. “No… at least not like Cassie’s or Erin’s this round. Tough diagnoses and based on earlier… I think it might be an interesting three months for them.” “Yes…” Dr. Halgen agreed before pressing more. “But your candidates… honest assessment after your first day with them. Last time, you nailed Cara and Patrick to a tee. How about this batch?” “Well…” Addy formulated a quick but political yet truthful notation about both in her head. “I need to keep an eye on Katrina. Something feels… off about her. Not bad… just different. And Oliver…” If Oliver hadn’t said thank you just before she left, her evaluation of him might have been very different. “A tough case but I think I can help him. Another ‘wait and see’ I think, but not unreachable.” “Good, good. Very good,” Dr. Halgen commended. “Never doubted you for a moment, but…” She shifted her mouth slightly and Addy knew right away she had something else up her sleeve for her. “I gave you those two candidates for a reason. Katrina should be a snap for someone like you and Oliver… more patience, but I think he could be useful…” Addy waited for Dr. Halgen continue, but when she didn’t, she took the initiative instead. “And…?” Dr. Halgen grinned but remained just as serious otherwise. “And I have another assignment I would like you to consider. You remember Cara, right?” A tiny needle entered Addy’s heart. She knew… everyone in town knew by now. Happy to be with Patrick, Sam, and Lloyd in their new living situation from what she saw when she visited them last week… but not even close to the woman or even Little she used to be. “Yes…” “Well, she’s still struggling… a lot actually,” Dr. Halgen revealed. “Sam is trying her best to be her new mommy, but… there’s only so much she can do while still working and caring for Patrick as well. So… now that you’re back…” Dr. Halgen left her insinuation up in the air, but it didn’t take Addy a second to know what she was digging at. “You want me to look in on her… help her. Is that it?” “Would you?” Dr. Halgen questioned, quickly looking relieved. “I will. Tough with two charges here, but… I think I can make it work.” There was hesitation in her voice, but that had only come from years of experience here and even with her undergrad work with broken Littles. Bigs were still cruel, but when the willing Littles ran out… they got downright nasty. Some Littles were still butchered from that time and Addy had made her bones by getting them to rehab. It was a tough lesson learned, but even then… some Littles just couldn’t be helped… Addy sighed and focused on the upside of this potential arrangement. “Maybe even a future playdate with Katrina and Oliver… when they’re all ready for that though. I need to assess Cara’s progress before I can make any promises. Deal?” Dr. Halgen reached over and shook Addy’s hand right away. “Deal.” She then leaned back and tapped her glass a few times before drinking a large swig of it. “Speaking of the chaos from November…” But Dr. Halgen just stopped cold and didn’t say a word, now seemingly lost in her thoughts. “Dr. Halgen… Kelsey…” Addy began after a moment of silence. “Is there someth…?” Dr. Halgen quickly stopped her with a single finger over her lips before producing a small device that she quickly opened and put on the side table right behind her drink, a little red dot blinking and then holding after a moment. Once it stopped, Dr. Halgen looked back at Addy. “Okay… we can talk freely now about… other things.” Addy blinked a few times and the tiny device. She had seen it only on TV or in the news… usually followed by a story of death or treason. “Is that… is that a…?” Dr. Halgen nodded. “Anti-listening device… just in case. Emily… Sergent Emily gave this to me last week before telling me what I’m about to tell you… It’s normally illegal to possess, blocking all signals in a 15-foot radius and all… but things might just about to be get serious.” She then took another long sip from her drink. “I take it you remember Britney and Redge from when you were last here?” Addy had to fight every urge she had not to grimace outwardly over their names. “Yes… former potential caregiver of Patrick and former employee of Juventas, respectively. After they kidnapped Patrick and Cara, they were caught after hurting Cara with the machine she stole from Juventas, I think, and both were sentenced to Dark Cliff for life.” Addy paused and stared back at Dr. Halgen. “What of them?” Dr. Halgen sighed. “Well… as you know, their punishment was more than a little unusual there.” Addy opened her mouth to ask but was quickly cut off… and Dr. Halgen saw. “No. Just… no. And before you ask, yes, I know, but trust me… you don’t want to. You might find out one day, but right now… their punishment is classified. To know it could put your life in danger, so for now… just know it’s not good.” Addy’s mind had been scrambling to find an answer ever since she heard about it, and especially once she saw Patrick’s face after he heard about their mysterious punishment. Considering the deal she had just made and what she saw last week, Cara was still struggling daily and there seemed to be little justice for her, or even Esther or Nancy, two of their other victims. “However…” Dr. Halgen bit her lip, almost as if she didn’t even want to say the next part. “Needless to say, both were devastated with their punishment and have been looking for ways to make deals ever since they stepped foot in Dark Cliff. As such… we’ve found some information out… information that could help our little plan out back here…” Addy leaned forward. Ever since she had been brought in, it had become only the third of her three priorities beyond helping Littles as a nurse here and finding a Little of her own. So far, things had only been simmering with their plot. “You found something?” Dr. Halgen leaned forward as well. “Yes… Penny… our nurse, Penny… she was the rat that allowed Redge and Britney the access and knowledge of our facility and Patrick and Cara on the day they were kidnapped.” Addy’s eyes widened and her knuckles cracked. She shot out of her seat and nearly got to the double doors… hell-bent on throttling Penny upstairs. “Hold it right there!” Dr. Halgen commanded, standing from her seat as well, just in time before Addy touched the doorknob. Seeing her stop, Dr. Halgen breathed a sigh of relief. “Now… come back over here and sit down.” When Addy remained frozen in place, her brow wrinkled slightly. “Now.” Her mouth twitching from the sheer amount of willpower it took within her to turn away and stop enacting her vengeance out, Addy wheeled around and sat once more along with Dr. Halgen. Breathing out, Dr. Halgen quickly patted her knee. “Thank you, Addy. I know that had to be tough to do. Trust me… that little b… witch would be six feet under already if I had any say in the matter… or didn’t see the larger picture.” Addy looked up at her friend and boss with a speck of hope somewhere deep down… hope of a plan. “So, there is a reason she’s still working here… that… traitor.” Addy ground her teeth and couldn’t believe that she was still allowed to interact with Littles. Dr. Halgen nodded. “That’s right. We know her secret… so that means we have leverage over her. Sergeant Emily agrees with me… Penny could just be a minion in all this, but… she might also know more key players in this. As a former employee, we can’t just ignore the connection between Britney and Juventas. Problem is… we just don’t know enough… except the aftermath of their corruption.” “You don’t need to tell me twice…” Addy nearly shuddered at all the evidence of the brutal outcomes from their own parent company here at Psyche New Beginnings. Juventas funded all this… but their methods were turning cold and hard for any Little. In truth, it was starting to feel like the old days of barbarism against Littles once more. “Maybe I do…” Dr. Halgen looked distant for a moment. “You’ve seen this batch. And the one before it was just as bad. Two already gone… It’s like Juventas wants us to activate our security protocols and forcibly break the Littles because of the danger they may pose to society. I mean… we have a known criminal this time. Ten years ago… they would have never even been let in the front door!” “I noticed…” But with her connections with the company and her years of service, a part of Addy still wanted to remain loyal. “But maybe they just want to help everyone.” “Maybe… but how about this then?” She then reached down and pulled out a letter from the board. “Came in this morning. Could barely believe it’s the same company I first came to work for…” Addy took the note and looked at it carefully before her heart fell from its contents. “The board voted down the resolution to remove the drugs in the Little’s food…” Dr. Halgen nodded and stood up before going over to her window, though not too far over to still stay withing the sphere of the anti-listening device. “There’s something rotten here, Addy… You know it and I know it.” Sighing, she turned around and headed right to Addy. “I know Penny should be punished… and she will be, but for now… if you are still willing to help us, I want you to tail her… talk to her. Learn what you can and report back to me and Sergeant Emily. Is that something you can do?” Addy just opened her mouth when Dr. Halgen stopped her. “Before you say yes or no though… just know that this assignment is going to take patience, time, and some major efforts on everyone’s part… starting with you. Sometimes, it’s going to mean getting dirty with others… sometimes doing things you would have never considered before.” She paused. “But also… if we’re successful, think about how many Littles we could be helping… saving, Addy. Think of that and just how much better this place could be…” Addy swished the two conflicting notions around in her head a few times. It was a lot to ask anyone, especially the part about getting to be all buddy-buddy with Penny once more. A friend, but now someone she knew was dirty and at the very least who caused the kidnapping of two Littles and the butchering of one of their brains… the other only being saved from that at the last minute by some quick decisions and great detective work. But all that would have to be put aside. She loved this place and loved Juventas. They did so much good, but now… all that seemed to be slipping away. Thinking back to Mindy, part of the reason for her happiness was being a part of this place. A company born to cure the incurable diseases after the last great war… they now seemed lower than the low and bent on regressing every Little they came across, no matter the cost. It was likely going to be dangerous and messy, but Patrick and Cara and now even Katrina and Oliver… they all deserved better. Juventas had a sickness and as a nurse, Addy felt she needed to cure them of that disease. Now, no matter how, she knew they had to be stopped… Taking a deep breath, Addy looked back at the eager Dr Halgen and nodded. “I’m in.” Dr. Halgen smiled back at her and despite her own convictions, Addy couldn’t help but hear her heart thud aimlessly and deep in anticipation and nervous over what was to come.

Hello everyone, and welcome to my 2nd ever story. This one came to me pretty quickly. As always, constructive criticism is welcome. Comments welcome. Diapers from the start on this one. Chapter 1: Anxiety Jimmy was having that dream again. As he lay sweating in his bed, his eyes continuously darted back and forth beneath his eyelids. He moved restlessly under the covers. It was his most frequent dream, the one that was more of a memory than an actual dream. The one he wished he could forget. In his dream, he was six again, walking home from the bus stop. The afternoon heat was in full effect, causing sweat to run down the small of his back, and a quick wipe of his forehead with the back of his hand. As he approached the front door of his house, he could see that the sun was at just the right angle to shine through the multicolored pattern built into the top of the wooden door. The refracted light on the carpet of the living room looked like a rainbow. In his dream, he had just walked in the front door, his mother’s imposing figure coming into view as he pushed the door open fully. His mother stood there, waiting for him, tapping her foot in annoyance. Before he could even get out so much as a “Hi Mom!”, his backpack was removed, and his pants pulled around his ankles. In one swift motion, his mother took him over her knee and told him off for misbehaving again. What had his crime been? His Mother informed him that his aim during his morning pee had been poor, and he’d splashed a bit onto the floor. As his mother’s firm hand struck his quickly reddening behind, his mother was extolling the virtues of cleanliness to him. In his dream, Jimmy was crying, promising to do better next time, to keep the bathroom clean. After a good twenty spanks, she set him back on his feet and pulled his pants back up. Stepping back from Jimmy, she pointed at the small amount of dirt he had tracked inside and told him to clean it up. He didn’t say a word and walked over to the laundry room where the mop and bucket lived. He cleaned the entire entrance until it was spotless. The blue and white tiling of the front entrance was once again sparkling clean, so clean you could see your face if you looked close enough. His mandated cleaning completed, the bucket was emptied, the mop returned, and the sink was sprayed down. Satisfied that her floor once again was clean enough to eat off, she grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to his room. Struggling to keep up with her pace, Jimmy jogged behind his Mom as she took him to the space underneath the stairs where he slept. Pulling down his pants revealed his wet pull-up. With machine-like efficiency, she removed it, wiped his privates and bum, and pulled up the fresh, clean one. A quick sprinkle of baby powder down the front, and she was done. The whole time, she was reminding him that things must always be perfect, always be clean. The final knife in the barrage of insults was her chastising him for still wetting his pants like a baby. Now clean and dry, he was told to sit down and play quietly. She had several videos to film, and he had already put her behind schedule. He stepped into the small space that was his bedroom and heard the door close, the lock sliding into place. Jimmy was in the dark, all before he could even sit down. Blindly waving his hand in the air, he attempted to grasp the string that he needed to illuminate his room. After a few empty swipes, he finally caught the string in his hand. Wrapping his small hand around the string, he pulled the string of the one light that illuminated his space. The sudden burst of light caused him to cover his eyes in slight pain. The light flash faded to black, and as he returned to consciousness, the morning rays peered through his curtains and right onto his face. Opening his eyes and rubbing eye crusties out, Jimmy gave a big morning stretch and a yawn as he began to move from underneath his covers. The familiar crinkle of his plastic sheets and the taped disposable medical brief around his waist didn’t even register with him anymore. He put his hand on the crotch of his taped disposable brief, and as usual, it was soaked. Jimmy gave a resigned sigh at the familiar feeling of a soaked brief (he refused to call them diapers, his ego had taken enough blows). Trudging from his bedroom to the bathroom just across the hall, he closed the door and pulled the shower curtain closed. As he turned the hot water knob, he heard the familiar groaning sound as water ran through the apartment’s pipes and into his shower. He didn’t have to wait for the water to warm up. His apartment complex was practically brand new, but out of habit, he waited for the water to warm. Jimmy used this warm-up time to grab his towel and washcloth, making sure it was a clean one. Mist was just starting to spill over from the shower as he turned to the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door and sighed at what stared back at him. Nothing about the image staring back at him made him happy. Staring at the slowly fogging mirror was a short twenty-two-year-old man, five feet five inches tall according to his driver's license, but he had worn lifts that day to ensure it. His body was skinny and underdeveloped physically. His body hair was hard to see as it was barely darker than the light blonde hair on his head. He usually kept his hair high and tight. He regarded his youthful face and the distinct lack of stubble on it. Even if he tried to grow a beard, it took forever, came in patchy, and looked awful. Between his legs sagged the well-used medical brief, which was one of the great sources of shame for Jimmy. You would think that after a lifetime of bedwetting, he wouldn’t care so much, but he couldn’t help it. To him, it was just another flaw, just another reason that he would always be alone and never find someone to love him. The mirror was now completely fogged up from the steam, so he quickly removed the tapes of his sodden brief before wrapping it up tight and putting it in the trash can. Stepping into the hot shower, he began to wash off last night’s shame from his body. He thoroughly scrubbed himself with body wash and a washcloth. Scrubbing away any hint of urine that could follow him into the office this morning. Stepping out of the shower and toweling himself off, he slapped on some deodorant. Smelling fresh, Jimmy made his way, towel wrapped around his waist, to the bedroom portion of his studio apartment. The indented space was full of shelves and metal rods running horizontally at varying levels. All of his clothes were neatly hung by a series of identical white plastic coat hangers on the lower bars, and to reach the top shelf, he needed a step stool. To the left was a bag of absorbent pull-on briefs silently mocking him. Grabbing a fresh one from the package, he carefully stepped into the briefs and pulled them into place. Next to the bag of briefs is a large bottle of talcum powder. Turning the lid of the container, Jimmy pulled out the front of his brief and dusted himself with a liberal amount of talcum powder. Jimmy was just glad it was Friday. Friday meant he didn’t have to be in uniform at the call center today. Casual Friday, really just means a Polo Shirt and sneakers. It really wasn’t that different from the button-up shirt and dress shoes he wore the rest of the week. He selected his favorite solid navy blue Polo shirt and grey dress slacks from their hangers, and threaded his black slide buckle belt through the loops of his pants. Now clothed, he walked back across the hall to his bathroom. Moving his stepstool in front of the bathroom sink with the large mirror set above it, he grabbed his squeegee brush from the adjacent hook on the wall. With practiced strokes, he removed the condensation that had accumulated on the mirror. Returning the squeegee to the hook, he stepped down off the stool. He then removed the tub cleaner from underneath the sink and sprayed down the shower and tub. Taking his trusty sponge from its holder under the sink, he thoroughly scrubbed down his tub and the surrounding tile. Next was the full-length mirror on the door, still fogged with condensation. He removed a squeegee, half the size of the other, from its hook and cleaned off the full-length mirror as well. Looking at his bathroom one more time, to his immense satisfaction, it looked like it hadn’t even been used, and that’s the way he liked it. Jimmy walked over to his bed and began pulling the sheets back into place on the queen-size bed. He tucked the sheets in tight and neat, making sure to tuck them in with hospital corners. Satisfied with the flat, smooth sheets, he pulled the comforter up into place and tucked it in as well, his pillows trapped underneath. Morning cleaning complete, it was time for breakfast. Jimmy poured himself a bowl of Raisin Bran and sat at his kitchen island. Scrolling through the latest local and national news, he mechanically moved the spoon from the bowl to his mouth. Depositing his bowl in the dishwasher, he glanced at the clock on the stove. Jimmy saw that it was currently six forty-five in the morning. He was on time, as usual. After quickly wiping down the countertops of any stray bran flakes, he swept the kitchen floor for any minuscule particles of dust that had built up since cleaning up dinner last night. Looking back at the living room and kitchen of his apartment, Jimmy was satisfied with how clean it looked. His apartment looked like it could be the model apartment that complexes showed off to prospective renters. There was everything you would expect: couches, end tables, lamps, a television, but it all felt artificial. The apartment had no feeling of being lived in. That didn’t bother Jimmy. This cleanliness and picture-perfect presentation were all he had ever known. He had no concept of a feeling of hominess, of a place being filled with warmth and personality. Next to the door on a low hook hung Jimmy’s work bag. The bag was a mix of work items and personal items. His lunch, work laptop, and a spare pull-on ultra-absorbent brief, along with travel-size powder and wipes, were contained within. He hated that he was forced to pack extra protection, because he knew that meant he was admitting that he would need a change. Just underneath the dangling bag, there was a bench with neatly arranged rows of shoes on the underside. Grabbing his red New Balance shoes, he slipped them on with practiced ease and grabbed his bag. He took one last look around the apartment to make sure he hadn’t left anything potentially hazardous on. Doing a final check of his pockets, feeling his keys, wallet, and phone, Jimmy turned off the overhead lights and exited his apartment. Locking the door to his fifth-floor apartment, Jimmy quickly made his way down the stairs and outside to the bus stop, arriving at five minutes to seven, just like he did every morning. The bus arrived five minutes late, much to Jimmy’s chagrin. Stepping onto the bus and swiping his Metro Pass, he was greeted by the same friendly driver who always was on this route. An uneventful twenty minutes later, the bus arrived at Jimmy’s stop in the heart of downtown Cincinnati. The bus deposited him just across the street from his work. Making his way to the street corner, he hustled across the crosswalk while it was still showing the Walk sign. Stopping a moment to catch his breath, Jimmy made his way to the front door of Hermes Insurance Inc’s soaring downtown headquarters. Doing his best not to be swept up by the revolving door, he carefully made his way to the security station. Swiping his badge at the reader, the turnstile gate opened with a click. The elevator bank was just beyond, and he was lucky enough to catch the polished gold elevator doors before they could close completely. Seeing that he had the elevator to himself, he quickly pressed the button for the tenth floor so he could keep it that way. The rapidly ascending elevator deposited him on his desired floor. He made his way to the break room to get ready for the workday. Depositing his prepared meal, made the night before, into the communal refrigerator, Jimmy took a seat to wait for the start of his shift at eight. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to prepare himself to be yelled at all day. He hated his job, his coworkers, and his boss was the worst. His choice of jobs hadn’t been large in this struggling economy. You took whichever jobs were available. As the clock flipped to eight o’clock on the dot, Jimmy swiped his badge at the check-in station. Hustling to his cubicle in the back of the room, he quickly sets up for the day. Once his computer finally booted up, he was able to sign in to all necessary work programs. He grabbed the headset from its dock built into his office phone. He exhaled as he put the headset on and once again attempted to steel himself for the day ahead. Marking himself ready to receive calls, Jimmy prayed that his first customer would be nice and not a mean customer. Jimmy was pleasantly surprised when, after reading his scripted answering prompt, the voice on the other end of the line was a kindly elderly woman who had dialed the wrong number. Quickly assuring her that it was not a problem, he switched to the next caller. This time, he wasn’t so lucky. The customer on the line was very audibly frustrated as Jimmy read through his case. By the end of the call, the man was screaming in his ear, calling him names like “idiot, useless, fool,” and eventually demanding to speak to a supervisor. He did as asked, even though his Supervisor would just tell the customer the same things he had. As Jimmy disconnected from the call, he felt a small spurt of pee escape into his padded brief. Yelling customers always made him anxious. They caused him to inadvertently clench himself as if he was trying to pull away from the voice on the other end of the phone. So when the call ended and he relaxed, a small spurt escaped into his brief. For the thousandth time, Jimmy cursed his anxiety and urge incontinence. Thankfully, no one at work knew about this, and he wanted to keep it that way. He just knew the department head would humiliate him if he knew about the incontinence. He was the nephew of one of the C Suite executives, and he walked around knowing he was untouchable. He blatantly played favorites, taking work off of the people he liked, and shoving more on the ones he didn’t. Jimmy was very firmly in the category of people he didn’t like. Jimmy had no clue why. He had barely interacted with the man outside of yes sir or no sir. If he had to guess, he believed it was likely that he was small, scrawny, timid, and quiet, the perfect combination for any bully’s ire. He tried to be pleasant, but it just seemed to piss the man off even more. Several hours and many involuntary spurts later, it was finally time for lunch. Jimmy ate quickly, using the remainder of his lunch to write a To Do list for himself, starting with this evening. The main task that needed to be completed was to stop by the diaper bank and restock his nighttime disposable briefs. He was down to half on his current bag and wanted to resupply before it got any lower. He didn’t want to risk running out and being left high and dry. He completed the list with several other minor cleaning tasks added on. Lunch about to end, Jimmy made his way to the Men’s room to change into a dry pull on briefs. Glancing around as he walked, to see if anyone else was in the bathroom before entering. Shutting himself in a stall, he quickly removed his slacks and placed them on the hook attached to the stall door. With practiced efficiency, he tore the sides of his wet brief and removed it. He put the used brief on the back of the toilet. Wiping himself down, he deposited the wipe in the open brief and rolled it up tight. Depositing the soiled brief into a sealable plastic bag, he quickly grabbed the dry brief and pulled it on. Quickly, dusting his intimate areas, he packed his bag back up and stepped back into his pants. As he was pulling up his pants so he could turn and grab the bag with the soiled brief, he heard the door to the bathroom open. He froze for a moment to allow the newcomer to enclose himself in a stall. Jimmy quickly flushed the toilet and left the stall. He tossed the soiled brief into the trash and washed his hands. He placed the wet paper towels over the bag, but before he could cover the bag any further, he heard the toilet flush and rushed out of the bathroom instead. Clocking back in at one pm on the dot, he returned to his station. Jimmy preferred the afternoons at work. Afternoons were when he took care of reports and forms that his boss had shoved off onto him, being too “busy” to do them himself. Doing reports meant he wasn’t taking calls, and no calls meant no yelling, and no yelling meant no spurts. Thirty minutes before quitting time, he finally completed all of his boss’s work for the day and printed out the reports to deliver them as instructed. Making his way to the dreaded “bro” department manager’s office, he timidly knocked on the office door. After being bidden to enter, he handed in the reports like he always did. He received a dismissive handwave from the boss, who never took his eyes off the computer screen. He turned to exit the office and return to his cubicle. As he was passing through the door frame, his boss called for him to return. Confused, he cautiously made his way back to the desk, and to his surprise, his boss complimented him for his work on the report. Suddenly, he was standing and walking around his desk to shake Jimmy’s hand. He was too stunned to react as his boss shook his hand. Still complimenting Jimmy’s work, he gently guided him out to the main call center floor. Loudly clapping his hands, he called for silence. Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he cleared his throat. “Thank you for your attention, folks. I have just received an email from HR reminding me that I have yet to complete this month’s training on workplace harassment. According to HR, I need to have a meeting with my whole team to discuss workplace harassment and provide examples of what to do to avoid harassing language and actions. Jimmy here has graciously volunteered to help me act out a few possible scenarios of workplace harassment. Hopefully, with these examples, you will all learn what language is acceptable and unacceptable in the workplace.” Jimmy’s anxiety spiked through the roof. Do a presentation with the boss? In front of everyone? With all of those eyes on him? He began to shake slightly at the pressure, as a small spurt made its way into his briefs. Looking over at his boss once he had stopped talking, Jimmy thought he might have seen a hint of a smirk on his boss’ face, but he couldn’t be sure. Jimmy waved it off as his anxiety. His boss was a dick, but he wasn’t evil. Right? His boss called his name, trying to get his attention. On the third repeat of his name, he came back to reality. His boss informed Jimmy that in this scenario, he was playing the part of the employee receiving harassment. His boss, Chad, would be playing the harassing coworker. In this scenario, Jimmy was being harassed for a medical condition. With their roles assigned, the scenario began. “Hey Jimmy! How’s it going, buddy?” “Um, good. How are you, Chad?” “I’m good, buddy. Say, do you smell that? Smells like pee!” Jimmy froze in place. This scenario was hitting too close to home for his liking. Did Chad know about his incontinence? Was he overthinking it? Was it possible that this was just the example scenario that someone in HR had assigned to be acted out? Some scenario picked at random from a generated list of possible harassment scenarios? “Hey, Jimmy! Earth to Jimmy! I asked you a question. Do you smell that?” “Ummm. No, I don’t smell anything.” “You don’t smell that? Smells like a baby to me. Smells like a baby with a pissy diaper. Any idea where that’s coming from, Jimmy?” “No…No idea. I don’t smell anything.” “No idea, huh? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the soaked diaper I found in the trash in the Men’s room, would it? Do you know anything about that Jimmy?” Jimmy’s mind was going a mile a minute, and his anxiety spiked even higher. Was this really the scenario? Was this really a coincidence, or had Chad found his brief in the trash after lunch? He felt himself spiraling into an anxiety attack, and suddenly, a warm wetness blooming from his crotch. Jimmy barely registered the spreading warmth, too in his own head to pay attention to any outside stimuli. It was only the sound of shocked gasps and a dripping sound that brought him back to reality. Looking around, Jimmy could see all of his coworkers still staring in his direction, but now their eyes were focused on his crotch. Jimmy looked down to see a large wet stain on the front of his pants, running down the legs to the floor, where a puddle had formed beneath him. In his anxious state, it seemed as if he had stopped holding his bladder and flooded his padded briefs. Not being designed for a flood of urine released from a full bladder, they had naturally leaked. His pants drenched, and a pool at his feet, Jimmy began to sob. His boss moved to his side with a look of sympathy on his face. “Ok, everybody, show’s over. Get back to work, and stop staring at poor Jimmy’s accident.” The rest of the office silently returned to their cubicles and got back to work. Jimmy’s sobs slowed into sniffles, and he looked up at his boss. His boss gave him a sympathetic smile, but Jimmy could swear he was actually smirking inside. His eyes seemed to give off a spark of glee, that this was hilarious, but he had to appear sympathetic. He bent down to whisper into Jimmy’s ear. “Do you have anything to change into? Another pull-up?” Jimmy didn’t even register that his boss had mentioned pull-ups, and that there should have been no way he would know that. He didn’t clock the false sympathy oozing from his boss’ voice. He just sniffled and shook his head. “Why don’t you go grab your stuff and leave a bit early then. No need to clock out, I’ll take care of it. You just hurry home and get dry!” Jimmy just nodded and started towards his desk. He thought he heard the faint sound of laughter behind him, but he couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t in his head, and he was laughing at himself. Quietly, he grabbed his laptop and personal items and walked towards the elevator. He was doing his best to keep the front of his soaked pants out of everyone’s eyeline, not realizing there was a large stain on the back of his pants as well. He quietly waited for the elevator, his head hung low, eyes focused on the ground. It felt like an eternity before the elevator dinged its arrival and opened. He shuffled in and made his way to the lobby. He just wanted to get out of this place. He couldn’t believe he had just wet himself in front of his boss and coworkers. How did that happen? That’s what he asked himself on the ride to the lobby, and all the way out the front door to the street. Art from Manga Kare to Kanojo no Chiguhagu by Manako.

Charlotte finds herself on her second lap of life, being reborn as Charlotte Marie Ashcroft. Having experienced decades of regression from her past life, Charlotte is weary of the magic that the running shoes possesses. When Charlotte receives the running shoes as a gift for her first birthday, all her doubts, fears, and concerns return to her when she confronts the shoes that nearly made her disappear. But old habits die hard, as Charlotte strangely finds herself drawn to the shoes once again. The shoes work their charm on her as they did in her past life, pushing Charlotte into another dilemma. Can Charlotte trust the strange magic from the running shoes? How do the shoes work? Has Charlotte sealed her fate once again? This story is a sequel to “The Running Shoes”, a story inspired from Olympiczero's "The Ballet Slippers". I strongly recommend that you check out his story as it is an amazing read, and the inspiration behind this entire story. His entire story can be found here in the link below: Having written “The Running Shoes”, I felt like there were some unanswered questions from the previous story. This “Second Lap” if you will, would address everything the last story didn’t cover, and it should tie up some loose ends on the mystery that is behind the mysterious running shoes. But be aware. Charlotte’s second lap is going to be a lot faster (shorter), so there will be a lot fewer chapters in this story. Consider this an abridged sequel with the pacing being a lot faster than the previous story. If you haven’t read “The Running Shoes”, I encourage you to read that story first. You can find that story here: But I recommend that you read the stories in the following order for the best experience and out of respect for the author who inspired me to write these two stories: - Olympic Zero’s “The Ballet Slippers” - The Running Shoes - The Running Shoes – Second Lap This story is the official second part to The Running Shoes and is to be treated as a tribute, and my own unique spin on the original classic. Fans of “The Ballet Slippers” should be familiar with the theme and how this story serves as a spiritual continuation of the original classic. Enjoy the story! So yes. I am finally working on the sequel. As for updates, they will will be done as I find time to do them. I am very busy so I'll try to keep this story updated when I can. Enjoy everyone! Prologue - Second Lap Charlotte Marie Ashcroft woke up in an incubator in the NICU at Kaiser Permanente Santa Rosa Medical Center in Santa Rosa, California. Despite it being only two days since Charlotte was born, the newborn Charlotte felt a strong feeling a Déjà vu inside of her. While everything felt very new to her, there was a lingering familiarity at the same time. It was like Charlotte had experienced life before. A past life that she had a full memory of. Much of this was weighed down by her drowsiness as a newborn. Her long naps afforded her very little moments of consciousness while the nurses tended to her around the clock. As sleepy as Charlotte was, there was a strangeness that she felt that she just couldn’t let go. Decades from a past life that she was just beginning to ponder. A strong and powerful thought entered Charlotte’s mind. A thought that she had no memory of despite having the same thought a couple of days ago. ‘They listened. They gave me another chance. Another chance at life. They…It was…it was…’ Charlotte’s tired mind tried to process the rest of her train of thought. ‘It…it was…it was…the shoes.’ The shoes. The very thought of them made the newborn Charlotte smile again. The running shoes. The very tools that Charlotte thought that were working against her were actually listening to her the whole time. Here Charlotte was, just two days old, being stabilized in the NICU due to her being born one month premature. The incubator and the other machines were doing a wonderful job in keeping Charlotte alive and healthy. As the days passed, Charlotte received regular feedings from the nurses, which was usually followed by changing her diapers. Charlotte’s temperature was continually measured and she still needed an incubator due to her low birth weight unable to regulate her body temperature. Due to one frightening episode of apnea and three different episodes of bradycardia, Charlotte still needed a ventilator for the first couple weeks of her life. Charlotte, as drowsy as she was, slowly pieced together all the scattered fragments of her past life. As strange as it was, Charlotte felt like this past life was her very own, making her current life a continuation of her original life. Charlotte could feel her fingers reflexively close around nurses that laid their fingers on her palms. As they did this, another fond thought entered Charlotte’s mind: her name. ‘I….Who am I? I am….my name is….Charlotte…Warren…’ But that wasn’t right. While Charlotte was very close, the fragmented memories from her mother’s wedding were still jumbled together in her mind. A few days later, Charlotte heard a noise which startled her. At the same time, this loosened something inside of Charlotte. ‘My name….I am…Charlotte Ashcroft. I have….a big sister….Lauren Ashcroft….My mother’s name….Darcy Ashcroft….My father’s name….Michael Ashcroft….’ All this was enough for Charlotte to immediately fall asleep. One thing that Charlotte immediately noticed was how strange and different her dreams were. Despite being only a newborn, Charlotte had numerous dreams where she was already an adult. Charlotte could only guess that these dreams were only various memories from her past life. Charlotte snapped awake to suddenly forget just how small she actually was. The Charlotte that she saw in her dreams was a Charlotte that had already ran the first lap. Being a newborn again, Charlotte reasoned that this was her second lap. Her return to consciousness was swiftly met with an overwhelming feeling of fatigue and a sensory overload that overwhelmed her to the point of tears. “WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” A NICU nurse immediately attended to Charlotte. She checked her breathing and temperature and made sure that Charlotte was adequately fed. After the nurse changed Charlotte’s diaper, she fed her. Another thing that Charlotte didn’t realize was that her mother visited her every day. Darcy often visited Charlotte, but it was usually during the long spans of time that Charlotte slept. Darcy often held Charlotte under the supervision of the NICU staff before giving her new baby girl back to them for her continued care. During one moment that Charlotte woke up, she was almost two weeks old, and she could feel herself swaddled by loving arms. A gentle hum filled her ears, which sounded like a lullaby. It sounded…familiar. Like she had heard this voice before. It was…Charlotte knew it was her. Mother. Mom. Mommy. Mama. Charlotte would’ve uttered ‘mama’, but realized that her vocal cords couldn’t process speech yet. So she cooed instead when she felt the warmth of her mother cradling her. She was cradled in her mother’s arms and she felt safe. Two weeks passed. Darcy was getting into a white limousine with Lauren. A look of eagerness came over Darcy’s face as she found her favorite spot in the back seat of the limo: the right most seat facing the window. Darcy sat in the tan leather seat and buckled herself in. Lauren, not caring what seat she took, buckled herself in the middle seat next to Darcy and smiled. “So are you finally taking Charlotte home, mommy?” Darcy shrugged her shoulders. At this point, she was used to her adult daughter calling her mommy, as it has been more than a year since the wedding. Lauren was indeed her daughter now. Legally, yes. But for Darcy it was much more than that. Darcy then thought of her daughter’s question. Is Charlotte coming home today? This, Darcy knew was a matter that she didn’t have any control over. It was all up to the doctors and nurses at the NICU to decide when Charlotte was ready to come home. And at this point in time, it has been 23 days since Charlotte was born now. “I don’t know,” Darcy finally said. “It’s up to the doctors. Charlotte needs to be healthy enough to breathe on her own. Don’t you remember her birth weight? It was only 2 pounds and 9 ounces!” Lauren gave her mother an understanding nod. Lauren knew that this was normal for a baby that was born one month premature. In nine more days, Charlotte would be coming up to her actual due date of December 10th. “I know, mommy. I just want to see my baby sister at home where she belongs. I mean, won’t it be great to put her in that new nursery?” Darcy smiled at the mention of the nursery. This was a fun project that both her and Lauren both worked on. It gave them both time to bond beautifully as new mother and new daughter. Even though it has been a year since Darcy married Michael, having Lauren as her daughter was still new, and working on Charlotte’s nursery together was the best idea ever. They both shared laughter, stories, and burdens as they both worked on the important room that Charlotte would be staying in. What Lauren liked the most was that she actually had the time to work on the nursery with her mother. Even since Charlotte was born, Lauren took a sabbatical from her modeling to help Darcy with taking care of Charlotte. All the details that they put into the nursery were all personal and done with love and care. Lauren smiled as she glanced at the sun glistening into the window of the limo as it coasted down the long driveway leading to the gate of the Ashcroft Estate. She glanced at her mother and smiled. “I can’t wait for Charlotte to come home.” “Me too.” Darcy told her. “I’m so happy that I was able to have a child. It really felt like God was giving me another chance at being a mother, considering the miscarriage that happened more than 31 years ago…” “He gave you two more chances,” Lauren said, pointing to herself. “You lost your husband and a baby, and I lost my mother to breast cancer. I am happy that you are my mother now. I am also happy about how understanding IMG Models was in letting me take a sabbatical.” Darcy nodded. “IMG Models was also generous with my maternity leave. When they found out that I had a preemie, they told me to take as much time as I need.” The minutes seemed to fly on by as the two continued to share their stories, their lives, and their tears with each other. Darcy now knew that Lauren was the daughter that she never had. A daughter that God just gave to her freely, along with Charlotte. It felt much less like a legally binding agreement and more like Lauren being like her own flesh and blood. Her daughter just as much as Charlotte was. A friendly honk of the horn snapped them both out of their reverie. Both women swiftly ended their discussion and glanced up at the driver. The rear glass divider separating the passengers from the driver rolled down and he pointed out the window. “We are here,” the limo driver announced in a pleasant tone. “The NICU at Kaiser Permanente Santa Rosa Medical Center.” Lauren smiled. “Thank you, Jenkins. I will call you on my cell phone when we are getting ready to leave.” “Very good,” Jenkins said with a jovial smile. “You two wonderful ladies have a great time in visiting your new member of the family.” Lauren kindly pointed to Jenkins. “And you have a fun time too, Jenkins! Don’t exclude yourself from the fun. The Ashcroft family includes you as well. No worker is excluded. So have fun!” Jenkins respectfully tipped his hat and nodded. “I will have fun, Miss and Mrs. Ashcroft!” The two entered the NICU and the staff permitted Lauren to enter without any hesitation. Darcy was already approaching the respirator that Charlotte was laying in when her mind began to catch up to the present. All she heard was that “Charlotte needed a little more time”. “Charlotte was breathing, but not long enough on her own”. She also heard that Charlotte’s sleep apnea was improving, and there were now zero cases of bradycardia. Darcy was about to pick up Charlotte when a voice stopped her. “May I, mommy?” Lauren said with a pleading face. Darcy gave Lauren a warm smile. “Only if it’s okay with the nurses.” The nurse, who called herself Breanna, nodded. “She can. At this point, we are just taking safety measures to ensure that Charlotte is ready to come home. With only one case of sleep apnea last week, Charlotte is getting very close to being able to breathe on her own. We monitored her yesterday and she was able to breathe for two whole hours on her own!” Lauren’s smile grew as she heard of the good report from Nurse Breanna. She grinned as she held her new baby sister in her arms. Charlotte was fast asleep, making small and gentle breaths. “My cute wittle baby daughter!” Lauren cooed. Then an explosion. FLUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!!!! Lauren sniffed the air and laughed. “Whoopsie! It looks like my baby sister needs a changie poo!” Darcy nodded and grabbed Charlotte. “Let me. I’ve been changing her diapers since they first admitted her here. Don’t worry, Laurie. You’ll have plenty more diapers to change when she’s at home.” Lauren nodded, secretly relieved that she didn’t have to change Charlotte’s messy diaper. She handed her baby sister to Darcy, who laid her right on a table that the NICU used for diaper changes. Darcy began changing Charlotte’s diaper, encouraging Lauren to watch everything that she was doing. “Pay attention,” Darcy said with a smirk. “You will be doing a few of these when she comes home.” Darcy unsnapped the buttons on Charlotte’s plain white onesie and peeled open the tapes of Charlotte’s diaper. She smiled as she heard her daughter gasp when she saw what was inside. A big wet gooey mess covered the inside of the diaper and Charlotte’s diaper area. “I can’t believe how small that diaper is!” Lauren said with a gasp. Darcy laughed. “Yeah. That’s a P1. Charlotte is just about ready for size N, which is newborn.” As Darcy wiped Charlotte clean, she could see Charlotte’s eyes begin to squint open. She saw her baby daughter’s mouth open up with a widening smile. “Yeah!” Darcy said with a smile. “Mommy’s changing your stinky diapy! And look! Your big sister is here too!” All Charlotte did was smile and coo at the sound of Darcy’s voice. Minutes later, Darcy had a diaper all powdered and began to delicately fold it between Charlotte’s tiny legs. Charlotte’s eyes flickered as she just stared at the two large women that were next to her. While Charlotte knew that the first one was her mother, she didn’t know who the other one was. Who is that? Who is that other lady? While Charlotte was supposed to know, her memories were too repressed to even know who she was. All she had was a blank slate. A new body with a new mind. A mind and brain that was just beginning to boot up. A mind that would take at least 2 to 3 years to begin to develop. Charlotte drifted off, sleeping what she felt like was a few minutes. But when Charlotte woke up, she was in her respirator again. Her mother and that strange woman that accompanied her were gone. In reality, Charlotte slept for a few hours. The NICU nurses continued caring for Charlotte, changing her diaper, feeding her, and putting her in her ventilator as needed. A couple of days later, Charlotte was showing remarkable improvement. After breathing for two hours without a ventilator, this turned into three. Three hours turned into four. And then five. Six hours. Seven hours. Eight hours of breathing without a ventilator. The NICU nurses then carefully watched Charlotte around the clock as she slept for the first full night without a ventilator. Darcy was impressed when she visited Charlotte that day. With Charlotte’s health improving, Darcy now wanted to get answers from the doctors. When can Charlotte finally go home? That same day, Darcy got her answer. One week. One week later, Charlotte squinted her eyes open. While everything inside of her felt brand new, there was at the same time a part of Charlotte that couldn’t help but notice that something felt familiar. It was like she had lived this life before. But how? How could I have lived this life? This awareness dissolved into the drowsy and perpetually sleeping newborn self that Charlotte was. A self that felt almost overwhelmed by the brand-new world that awaited her. Everything was new. Sounds. Sights. Smells. And Déjà vu. This feeling lay dormant inside of the newborn Charlotte like a sleeping volcano. A volcano waiting for the opportune time to erupt. But something else erupted instead. “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” All the NICU nurses agreed. The doctors agreed. Even Darcy agreed. This was Charlotte’s day. After 32 days of hospitalization since her birth, it was finally time for Charlotte Marie Ashcroft to leave Kaiser Permanente Santa Rosa Medical Center. It was finally time to go home.

Finally getting a chance to tryout the banana trick soon. I’ve read about people using up to 6 whole bananas, and while I’m sure they mean smaller ones, just imagining taking in 6 massive bananas.. only to struggle in attempts not to mess them out. And how long it’d take to push them all out… Will update EDIT: I’m currently sitting diapered up trying to hold everything in. I started with some mini marshmallows to loose up before the first half. A lot of the banana squished but after the first they started to pop in. I did 2 medium bananas and mini marshmallows until I felt super full. Now I’m holding it desperately writing this update. EDIT II: I didn’t end up lasting long, and soon most of the bananas blasted into my diaper. I could still feel more though, and as I got exhausted of pushing, one more half banana log shot out involuntarily. Squishing it around and sitting in it felt amazing and just like the real thing. I then did my business (heh) and cleaned everything up. I have suspicions about more banana being left so I threw on another diaper for a short nap. EDIT III: I think it all came out. It’s partly hard to believe that what came out was nearly 2 whole bananas, but it did basically fill my whole diaper. And inserting them was a bit more trouble than I expected so I thought the thicker ones hadn’t come yet. But in all it was a very nice experiment

Hi, Have been lurking some time but here's a first try (and first chapter) of a story. I plan it to be a long one. English is not my native language, so there might be some quirks in grammar. I hope it's not to inconvenient. Though this is about an underage young boy, and there will be scenes of diapering and spanking included, nothing is erotic. Basically it will turn into a feel-good romantic and-they-lived-happily-ever-after. Cliche, i know, but i'll try to make the cliche proud. Feedback is welcome, let me know if this is any good. And if site admin's feels the story is inappropriate, let me know and remove it. --------------- The broken teapot 1 Jenny Miller rode her old Toyota up the short driveway to the closed fence where the security officer checked all in and out going traffic, lowered the window at the driver side and showed her id. "Good morning Mrs Miller, how are you today? " said the good humored officer to her. "Hi Nathan, good morning to you to. It's back-to-work-day, looking forward to the weekend-day already" He chuckled at the bad habitual joke they made everyday since she started working at the State Special Correctional Centre for Young Offenders, pushed the button on his desk to open the fence and waved her through. Slowly Jenny let the car roll forward to the massive looking building up the end of the pebbled path. It was old, just begging for a good paint-job. Some old buildings have a certain charm about them. But not this one, seeming to shout "Go away" to everyone who dared to approach it. After 4 years of working as a counselor she'd gotten used to it but in her mind she could very well picture the impression it made upon anyone who's was first brought here for "correction". It looked like a prison, as it was. She parked her car at the spaces for staff just left from the big central stairway that led to the entrance, got her bag from the passenger seat and walked up the stairs, pressed the buzzer on the left side of the big heavy double doors and looked strait up at the camera also on the left. With a small sound and harsh click the door sprung slightly open. She pushed it further and walked in on an impressive hallway where the marble floor and high ceiling augmented every sound that was made. "Hi Jenn", the secretary down the hall greeted her from the stall were every person that came through the door was supposed to check in. Jenny noted her name and entrance time in the log and was about to move on to her office in the building when the secretary informed her that Mr. Halloway would like to see her as soon as she was available. "Oh, of course" she answered and instead of turning left she walked right up the corridor where the Director's office was situated. It wasn't and odd request. Henry often called her in when he needed some advice on one of the pupils they used to call them here. That was her job after all. All correctional institutes were required to have a counselor on staff to have someone on the payroll outside the chain of command with the authority to go over the warden's head if necessary. Given the sensitive nature of the correction's at this specific institute it was a no brainer. It prevented tunnel vision's and helped to keep the entire group of guardians and officers responsible for the daily handling of their pupils on the right side of the thin line between "correctional" and "abusive" behavior. "Good morning, Jenny!" The big athletic build man on the other side of an impressively big, but equal impressive messed up desk, veered up from his chair and waved her in when she had opened the door and peeked in to see if he was busy. Henry Halloway was everything you wouldn't expect a warden of an state correctional institute to be. He wore a loose leather jacket over a heavy metal printed shirt. Long black hair was bound with a leather thong at the back. As counterweight to this, slightly menacing first appearance, was a comical small set of reading glasses that never seemed able to stay at place on his hawkish nose where he pushed it regularly, every minute or so. "Have a seat. Had a good weekend? Had some coffee yet?" He rapidly fired these question's without waiting for an answer and walked strait to the side of the room, poured two steaming mugs of pitch black coffee and offered one to the slim medium height women that had made herself comfortable in one of the chairs across the desk.. At her mid thirties, Jenny looked every inch the friendly professional she was. Anyone who saw her the first time got the same message from her appearance, clothing and manners: "Hey, I like to keep things neat, orderly and organized. But also simple and practical. No fuss. I am here for you, but don't expect me to save you if you don't want to help yourself" It helped to reach some of the more challenging pupils they housed at this institute while keeping the professional distance between them at the same time. Only the ones who had known her longer could recognize the faint aura of sadness that surrounded her the last couple of years. They chatted a couple of minutes about their weekend. As usual Henry's had been far more eventful than Jenny's. She laughed at his retelling of the heavy metal concert he had visited on his motorcycle, a foul stench emanating, god forsaken roaring Harvey with which he always arrived at this institute. "OK, what have you got for me this time" Jenny turned Henry's attention to working matters. "We got a new group yesterday." Henry moved to his own chair and picked up a dossier from the pile on his left. "There is an interesting new pupil i would have you to take a look at" Jenny took the file, flicked the cover open to the first page and started to scan the information on the pages. As usual it didn't take her long to digest the most important fact's from the file. "Wow, 10 years old, isn't that a tad on the young side for this place?", was her first comment. "Yes, just turned ten, was surprised myself. You know the most of 'm are between 14 and 16/17. We have had younger ones from time to time but always at least thirteen. Not one from elementary" "So?, how come?" "Well, as you can see in the file, his record is quite impressive. Theft's and even burglary's. And no simple stuff. I mean, he wasn't stealing apples here. An old necklace worth several thousands was his last price" "Most judges would take his age in account" . "True, but he got old Farlington this time..And it was his third strike. With the stricter policies our government agreed on last September he saw no way out this time. It would have to be some jail time. So he put him up for two weeks here, judging that our special approach would benefit this fellow. Guess he was just fed up with this youngster, wanted to teach him a heavy lesson and never see him again" "But you're having doubt's" "Yeah......" Henry fell silent and fidgeted with one of the pencil's on his desk. Collecting his thought's. Jenny was a good listener. Leaving silences or a few words were often enough to get people to tell the story they wanted to tell. She waited patiently for Henry to resume his account but inward a tingle of not being right was manifesting itself already. Considering herself old fashioned when coming to the subject of raising children, she had absolutely no qualms of using spankings as a form of discipline. In fact, she had had to use this method a couple of times in the past. Otherwise it would have been impossible for her to work at this place of course. Jail time, as in most juvenile institutes, had proven almost non-effective in correcting boys send there. Therefore a couple of years ago this institute was founded. The thought was that confinement, combined with daily spankings would yield more results. These were the midwest, after all, and still the nineties. But ..... Ten...., just, and now being confronted with the realities of this institute, God!. she thought "He was brought in yesterday afternoon" Henry resumed. "A small group this time, four. Three guys 16/17 and he. As usual we got them booked and let them change in our sweat's and t-shirts. We gave him the smallest we have of course but he still drowned in them. You know they all come with a court directive about how long their daily mandatory spanking must take and which implements may be used. " Jenny nodded. "So Gary, the correctional officer on duty, explained that to them and started right away with the first session. And let me say right up front, Gary is a good man, he did nothing wrong. We can argue that he is a bit inflexible but followed all the rules. He bent the first over his desk, trousers dropped and started. He had to use the long ruler for this one and a strap. I must say this guy was a though one. He sweared the whole procedure but eventually showed some tears. That youngster was next, scared to death. A colleague had to held him bent over the desk. I saw on camera that Gary was a bit put off by his age and small demeanor but he abided by the court order this young man was given. That was 30 and two by the way." Jenny gulped. 30 meant that the correctional officer was ordered to give no less than 30 spanks with a bare hand, as kind of warming up, and 30 for every implement that was ordered. As usual, on arrival the bare hand spankings were omitted if an implement had been ordered. And one always was. That meant that this 10 year old had been sentenced to at least 90, with 60 from ruler, spoon, strap or even whip if needed, every evening of his two weeks stay at this institute! Henry nodded, acknowledging her surprise. "He used the short ruler and spoon on him, the mildest choice's if you ask my opinion. Now what surprised me. this younster didn't offer a sound. Though we could see how much it hurt. He stayed silent the whole time" Jenny lifted her eyebrow, also showing some surprise. "And after?" "We let them stand with their noses to the wall, as you know. Till we are finished with 'm all. He could hardly stay standing, knees almost giving out under him, his face red from silent tears. When we brought them to their "rooms" to wait for dinner he fell face forward on his bed. We tried waking him up for dinner but he fell asleep so the officer in charge let him sleep it out." "Good call i think" Jenny interrupted. "You could expect something like that, so this isn't why you asked for my opinion, Am I right?" "No." Henry resumed. "We checked upon him the whole evening of course, covered him with a blanket, he didn't move a muscle. But this morning, when we woke him up, he crawled to the corner of his bed. Held his blanket up on him. The officer who woke him said he saw some sort of primal fear in his eyes. Whatever that means. It took some struggle to get it off him. He, his bed, the blankets were soaking wet. The officer in charge let him take all to the laundry, let him take a shower and gave him a new set of clothes. He was shivering with fright at first, that left somewhat when the officers stayed neutral. Of course, it was quickly known with all the boy's that our newest "guest" had wet his bed. Now as staff, we'll manage with this of course. What worries me most was the group's reaction." Jenny again lifted an inquiring eyebrow. "You see, one could hope for an understanding reaction from the other boy's, like big brother's who instinctively take to caring for the littlest of them all. Helping him through. He's clearly no thread for any of 'm. But I'm afraid it's turning the other way. At breakfast he was bullied, made fun off and his plate was thrown on the ground. We know, not uncommon but this time they took it to the merciless extremes. Giving him no rest...... he took it quietly sitting at the table's. When the group moved to class, a group of the oldest cornered him, tripped him, pulled his pants down and threatened to make him their "baby-bitch", excuse me for the choice of words. When we got to the situation he fled to his cell and sat in the corner again, his blanket pulled around him. We tried talking to him, but we can't connect it seems. He hasn't moved an inch since" Henry fell silent. Jenny let the story sink in. Of course, all maternal instincts in her flared up, and she recognized her feelings. But this was still a three times convicted thief, they were talking about. She had to keep her professional insights on the fore. Henry was the first to break the silence. Looking past Jenny into thin air. "They'll have him for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Jen." he said softly. "The spanking directives, I think they are harsh for a boy his age, but he can survive them. It's the atmosphere around the group we have in currently. We'll do our utmost but can't protect him everywhere. He'll find no support. Somehow, they will find a way to pass him off to each other, feeding of his fear. They'll eat him alive. After two weeks, what scraps will be left of him?" Jenny thought about this, already inclined to agree, but again........ "We have been fooled by young angelic convicts turning demon before, Henry" Holding up her hand as Henry was about to interfere. "But I tend to agree with you that this one doesn't seem to be made of the same stuff as the older one's. In the file is no mention of motive, am i correct?" "Correct, he never said why, never mentioned a name. The group home that was responsible for him and his school were played, somehow. Stupid staff there, if you ask me. They both had no idea of his activities, but it's hard to imagine that he did all this alone. Lots of blanks in his life's story. An' he offered nothing in his questioning. But again, he was busted trying to pawn that necklace I mentioned, on his own! The fingerprints at the house he last broke into to get it were circumstantial evidence enough." "Interesting. Any fights, violence?" "No. And maybe that's why he slipped trough the mazes for so long. He didn't draw enough attention." "Where is he now?" "In his cell, the corner." "Well, let's have a look. You have a camera on him?." Henry nodded and Jenny moved to stand beside him at his computer screen. He hesitated. Jenny looked at him, asking silent for the problem. "I eh, need to warn you Jen, We have known each other a good couple of years now and God, how I know what you have been dealing with, but......I cannot soften this" He flicked the screen on. At first Jenny, puzzled by the warden's last remarks, couldn't see much more than a mountain of blanket, huddled in the corner of the cell. Then, Henry closed in on the face and Jenny gasped, turning white as chalk. A normal young, tear stricken face was looking past the camera. Slightly red curling hair dancing in all directions. A small nose that seemed to tip upward at the end and freckled apple cheeks that made him look adorable. His eyes were light brownish looking nowhere and Jenny understood what the guard had meant by 'primal fear'. But that was not what shook her to the core of her being. She knew that face! Her stomach turned with remembrance and all the pain that flooded back in with it. "I'm sorry Jen" Henry whispered while he vacated his chair and let Jenny sink in it., staring incredulously at the screen before her. He tapped a glass of water and handed it over. Shaken she brought it to her lips. "What's his name again?" She could hardly voice the question.. "Jake, Jake Hanson" Silence. After a long time Jenny sighed.. "Let me think about it for a while and I'll make some calls" "You can use my office, take as long as you need..... or want." Henry patted her shoulder lightly in sympathy and left his office.

Hey! I'm a female in Des Moines Iowa

I'm so curious i was thinking about this for a fic. are there any foods drink that effect your bladder and make you need to go now? i don't know what it is about pepsi but it's always had an effect on my stomach so i rarely have it i'm fine with Coke though. I'm trying to think of other things i think sometimes peanut butter if i have so much and also eating way to fast especially chocolate.

This is a rather unique reimagining of the classic Baby Bottleneck cartoon featuring our favorite trio of troublemakers from Ed, Edd and Eddy. I hope you enjoy the journey and the comic page that accompanies each installment of the story. --- The Kanker's Baby Bottleneck The dazed and confused blonde stared up at the metallic orange beak that was only a few feet away from her face. She was just barely beginning to regain her ability to focus her thoughts when the sudden and very strange sensation of weightlessness consumed her body! The sight of the robotic beak growing further and further away as the feeling of air flowing over her bare arms and legs caught her attention; she was falling! Nazz hit the ground with a rather loud “bam” that announced her landing to whoever was home. She looked around and spotted the backdoor of a house, but that was normal compared to what she was wearing which left her feeling all the more baffled and confused. It was hard to believe but the cheerleader from Peach Creek was dressed in a pink baby's bib and a rather thick cloth diaper that was held together by what could only be described looked as a comically large safety pin. Her new outfit wasn’t the only thing that caused her to question what was happening to her; she quickly became aware of the fact that she was lying in a wicker basket which thankfully had broken her fall. If all this wasn't weird enough for the blonde bombshell, the sight of the homeowner, appearing in the frame of the door, caused her to blink her eyes in confusion. “I didn't order a baby.” The woman said to herself, taken aback by the unexpected diapered blonde lying on her doorstep in a basket. “Uhhh, what just happened?” Nazz couldn't help but ask only to realize that there was a pacifier in her mouth once she started talking. "Mistakes have been made," Eddy, dressed in only the finest alabaster suit that money could buy, started his speech as he looked over at the three familiar faces who stood bored and disinterested in front of him. From what he could see the red headed Kanker seemed far too busy swirling her finger around in her ear, trying to pull wax from it, to pay the pint sized scammer any attention. Her younger sisters were just as equally as unenthusiased as herself; The blonde was whistling while her blue haired sister stood with her right arm hanging towards the floor while her left arm was planted firmly on her hip, looking bored out of her mind as Eddy prattled on. “Every delivery goes to the wrong mom so I'm paying you guys to fix my factory and make my money back.” The mere mention of money immediately pulled the trio of trouble makers from their distracted daydreaming and caused them to stand at attention. Each Kanker instantly brought their left hand up to their forehead, giving their new boss a salute as they acknowledged him in their own unique way. “Whatever you say, Casanova.” Lee grinned as she responded to the man of her dreams. Needless to say, she wasn't exactly sure what he wanted, but that wouldn't stop her from doing a good job so she could get his attention. “Sure thing, chief!” May quickly followed her big sister, eager to get paid even if she had no clue what she was supposed to do to earn her keep. ‘I'll just stand around and look busy until lunchtime.’ “No problem, boss!” Marie chimed in, happy to see that the penny pinching pipsqueak had finally shut his big mouth. 2 Hours Later May stood hunched over a lever, pulling it back every minute to send another brat down the conveyor belt only to release it and sigh. She had been working nonstop, manning the lever since that was the only job her older sisters had deemed fit for her to do by herself since it didn't require much brainpower. “I'm tired of taking care of all these brats. When's our lunch break?” Marie had been watching her baby sister from afar during much of the shift only to walk up on the blonde brat complaining to herself. It wasn't exactly unexpected since May had been whining since the start of their shift, but it was beginning to annoy Marie. Needless to say, the blue haired bully was starting to feel bored after inspecting the various stations along the industrialized conveyor belt. She had finished her job and decided to have some fun with her annoying little sister before lunch by making the youngest Kanker test out the machine. “I'm tired of hearing you yapping.” Marie declared with a devious grin as she hoisted her younger sister up by her armpits. “Maybe you should join the other babies!” To Be Continued... (at the links below) --- The Kanker sisters are hired by Eddy to fix his baby preparation and delivery system, but do they know anything about machinery? Find out in this fun and faithful reimagining of Looney Tunes' iconic "Baby Bottleneck" cartoon! (Links below) Follow me on Twitter or consider supporting the comic and my writing by joining my platforms. All for less than the price of a cup of coffee! Twitter: Free! https://x.com/DaymareAB Fanbox: $5 https://www.fanbox.cc/@daymare/posts/10540195 Substar: $5 https://subscribestar.adult/evisceratednite

Chapter 1 Francesca gasps for air, slamming the door to her apartment behind the insufferable man who she could still hear stomping down the hall. She let out a groan, her frustration welling up inside her. Turning back towards her lavish apartment, Francesca momentarily took in the decorations, pointless glass jars filled with useless beads, little wooden sculptures that were chic and cool to her a few months ago while browsing Amazon with a glass of red in her hands. Large sofa and chairs for the gatherings she never had time for. The home never felt more like a collection of rooms. Eyes drawing towards a stack of papers and her open laptop with a legal documents burning white from the screen, Francesca felt the urge to return to work, the urgency of her projects for her law firm the catalyst of her and Chris’ fight tonight. Biting her lip, Francesca sat down on the couch instead. 5 weeks. It had been 5 weeks since her and her boyfriend had gone on a date, done little more than exist in the same room. Francesca always had another project at work, a corporation that needed defending in court, discovery, disposition, searching up precedents. Always a different priority. Looking down at her outfit, an old Harvard sweatshirt, old and stained by late night coffee, she had a hard time even pretending like going out tonight was even a thought in her head. Feelings of unkempt flooded Francesca, her frayed red hair done in a very loose bun, strands of it pouring over her forehead and into her eyes. Even the old granny panties under her sweatshirt was worn and in need of replacement, no, there was no way she was going to be ready for any date. What was she thinking? Was she even thinking? Chris had seemed like the perfect man for Francesca, low maintenance, always caring, had his life together, and physically her type, tall, thick dark hair and green eyes, well built. Always seemed to have time to come over and help her out with maintenance that might take the building’s handyman days to get there a fortune to hire someone out, but Chris would appear at 12 am with his toolbag in tow and a smile, ready to be of service. The late nights they had talking in bed while they cuddled seemed like a distant memory from the early days of their dating. Slow to anger, and yet Francesca had finally crossed that line. Tapping her fingers on the leather sofa, Francesca anxiously stared at her work load. There was no time to think of such trivial things like losing the perfect man. The perfect man… The perfect man… No! There was a preliminary hearing tomorrow for PriScren corps lawsuit. That took precedent over anything personal. Her future was tomorrow, not who she was going to be with in 10 years. Whatever, screw Chris. She was the catch in this relationship. It would be easy to find another man, she assured herself. When she would have time to look for that next relationship was left unanswered in her mind. That was fine though, Francesca could always use more time for herself. Get herself together… Getting up, collecting herself as best she could, Francesca got up to get back to it, when a knock came at her door. Francesca swore. Now what fresh hell was this?! Swinging around her body and stomping towards the door, Francesca swung open the door, the speed the door was going creating a gust of wind that blew the strands of hair off her face for a split second. “What?!” The open doorway reveals a smartly dressed woman in a red dress with a small, knitted green jacket, with white curls that barely hung above square glasses and a button nose. Francesca frowned at the woman, “O-oh, Mrs. Claus?” The woman blinked at her (ex) boyfriend’s mother. She had only met the woman twice in the year she had been dating her son, and she didn’t think the woman had ever been to her home. “What’re you doing here?” Mrs. Claus stepped around Francesca without asking for permission. “Hello, dear,” She says patting a gentle hand on Francesca’s shoulder. “I just came to check up on you. I like to keep an eye on the young girl’s my son likes to fornicate around with.” Cheeks going crimson, Francesca informs her, “You don’t have to worry about me and Chris, we just broke up. If you wouldn’t mind leaving, I’d like to be alone right now.” The younger woman says coolly, folding her arms with a cross look on her face. Butting into her love life was beyond irritating, but how dare this lady she barely knows just barge into her home without asking?! Going through Francesca’s home with a look of indifference, idly straightening a throw pillow Francesca had just been sitting on, flaming the fires of the young woman’s indignation, Mrs. Claus simply says, “That’s too bad, I was liking the two of you together. Hmm… How about some hot chocolate, dear?” “I don’t have the stuff to make that, thank you, though, now if you could-” “No bother, I always bring my own mix!” Mrs. Claus says with a joyful, boisterous voice. Ready to tell the woman to hit the road, Francesca’s body moves towards the round table in the center of her kitchenette. “Awesome, why don’t you go make it somewhere else?” She takes a seat at the table, her hands put together patiently as the older woman starts to warm something in a pot on the stove. Francesca frowns as Mrs. Claus starts rummaging through her cupboard. She takes out a cup that says Las Vegas with cards and dice, shaking her head, a cup Francesca had gotten for attending a meeting in Detroit with Ford on it, discarding that as well, a novelty mug Francesca had gotten at a bachelorette party that was of a certain part of the male anatomy that mortified the young lawyer to no end seeing in the hands of her ex’s mother. Mrs. Claus simply cocked an eyebrow at the cock and set it aside with distaste. “Don’t you have something… More festive?” “No, maybe you can grab your shit and we can reschedule this never,” Francesca tried to sound as mean as she could, but only managed to sound like a bratty child, pouting at not getting her way. She shuddered at the tone that came out of her mouth, and despised telling the woman that was creating that sweet, tantalizing aroma of chocolate that was wafting through the air to go away. “Ah ah, dear, no cussing…” Francesca flinched at the tone. Stern. In a way Francesca hadn’t heard in decades. She was being scolded! Scolded by a woman she barely knew! Scolded by her ex’s mother of all people! Like a petulant child who didn’t know her manners. Despite herself, Francesca found herself mumbling, “Sorry…” “It’s a good thing a Mommy is always prepared…” Mrs. Claus turns around and produces a mug in the shape of Rudolph the Red Nose reindeer’s head. Where such a cup appeared from, Francesca couldn’t say, the woman had no pockets that could fit a coin purse from what she could see but something else caught Francesca’s attention. ‘Mommy’? Mrs. Claus filled the mug and added a dollop of whipped cream that Francesca was certain had never been in this apartment before. The whole situation was bewildering. The pleasant smelling beverage was dropped before Francesca, and she was about to greedily gulp it down before Mrs. Claus stopped her, “Waaait,” Mrs. Claus patiently said with the tone of someone dealing with a small child, “Just need the finishing touch.” With a grater and a chunk of nutmeg, the spice was finely added to the mix, and Francesca was told, “Drink up, dearie!” All irritation was forgotten for the moment, Francesca was bouncing on her bum like a girl excited for her first day of school. The first sip that gave the prideful lawyer a white mustache the color of Mrs. Claus’ curls warmed Francesca up to her very core. It was like highly concentrated memories of childhood running down her throat with each smack of liquid chocolate that ran down the girl’s throat. It was akin to getting drunk. A giggle wheezed out of the girl’s lips like the wind of winter breezing through an open door into a fire warmed house. Thoughts of break ups and deadlines and work momentarily fled Francesca’s mind. It was only this moment, this mug, and her tongue that couldn’t get enough of the warm liquid that made her tummy feel like a cozy cabin in a blizzard. Mrs. Claus was behind Francesca now, massaging the girl’s shoulders, “Poor thing, you haven’t been treated like this in a long time, have you?” Francesca shook her head, not even looking away from the half filled mug. “Listen, sweetie, I’ll cut to the chase. I would like a grandchild in the near future-” In a tone of despair Francesca wasn’t aware she could even make, she wailed, “But Chrissy and me broke-” “Shh, shh, doll, don’t interrupt the grown up,” Francesca shut her mouth. “Junior still likes you, dear, I understand that… Life can be complicated. I’d like to give you the opportunity to make a better choice… You can either make a child, or you can be the child…” Mrs. Claus said cryptically. Even in a solid state of mind Francesca wouldn’t be able to parse the meaning of what the older woman was saying, but how she was now, it was a puzzle she couldn’t hope to unravel. “Huh?” “Oh, you’ll get it in time, baby girl. Or maybe, you won’t… Lots of other girls Junior has been with made the latter choice. His high school ex still writes to me and my husband every year, the silly thing, though I am impressed that she can write. The others…” She trailed off. “Let’s just say on a good day they can manage to tie their own shoes, hmm?” “I can ties my shoes!” Francesca happily replies, her mouth stained with the chocolate. “My, my! Can you now? Such a big girl!” Francesca gleefully nods her head. “That’s all well and good, perhaps you can show me some time… But for now, it’s time for all good girls to go to bed.” Mrs. Claus said as she wiped the stains from Francesca’s mouth with a wet rag. Francesca pouts, “Wha- But it only 9 o’clock! And I’s gots lots and lots of work-” Francesca stops mid sentence, her hand flying towards her tummy, squirming in her seat as a whine drops out of the grown woman’s mouth. “I- I gotta…” Mrs. Claus helps Francesca up out of her seat. “Yes, yes, dear, I know, you have lots of important work to do, but you can’t do any of that when you’re half asleep, now, can you?” Though she had never been to Francesca’s home, Mrs. Claus expertly guided Francesca towards her room, the girl protesting the whole way, hopping from one foot to the other, “B-but I gotta go!” “Shh, shh, dear, let’s get that ratty thing off…” Mrs. Claus said, helping Francesca out of her hoodie, leaving the poor girl wiggling on her toes grasping her crotch in her granny panties and old mismatched bra. “Now you stay right there…” Francesca’s body apparently had a new owner, in spite of her willing herself to run towards the bathroom, towards the potty, she obediently stayed in that spot, shivering, though the idea that she was practically nude in front of a stranger never crossed her mind. An hour ago the girl would’ve found the whole scenario as surreal as much as it was traumatizing, now, though, she had permission to run to the potty on her brain. Mrs. Claus rummaged through Francesca’s drawers in the dark room, tossing some of her more scandalous negligee off to the side, clicking her tongue at the sheer fabric before settling on a white sleeveless shirt with the tiniest of bows on the top. Francesca could barely remember the last time she wore the thing, but it was a mite better than the next part of her decided nightwear. Telling the girl to raise her arms, Mrs. Claus threaded the tanktop over Francesca’s head and arms, then slipped off the girl’s panties, making the older woman chuckle as the girl’s hand flew towards her groin in muscle memory to hide her shame. “You have nothing I haven’t seen before, sweetie…” She said as she pulled a thick, purple pair of undies Francesca was positive hadn’t been in her underwear drawer out and was consequently dressed in, holding on to the woman’s shoulder in a pose she hadn’t been in since she was 5 and still being dressed by her Mom and Dad. The underwear felt strange on the girl’s hips. Stiff, but secure, and it made her feel nostalgic for something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Nooow, can I please go potty?” “No, silly, into bed with you!” “B-but…” But no matter her objections, the red headed lawyer soldiered on and got under her covers, before getting tucked in by her boyfriend’s Mother. Ex boyfriends’s, Francesca’s befuddled mind corrected herself. Still squirming under her sheets, Francesca tried to beg to be let out, “Hush dear, be a good girl and suck your thumb…” And like the good girl Francesca was, she did so, plugging her mouth with her thumb, her mouth going nyuk nyuk nyuk. She didn’t understand why, but a blanket of sleepiness covered her, and her eyes grew heavy. Something soft was tucked under her arm, and Francesca clung to it. A familiar warmth and softness that reminded Francesca of times long, long ago. Her legs twitched, just seconds before she drifted off to sleep in the comfortable silence while the older woman left the room. It started off with a dribble, body uncertain of the forgotten motion. The dribble turned into a steady flow that warmed the thin padding of the girl’s bedwetting pants, the Goodnite turning yellow and heavy. A voice inside told her that the foreign comfort that was a warm diaper was wrong, yet she just let out a sigh of content through her thumb. as she snuggled with the stuffed bunny she hadn’t seen since she had packed it up for college more than a decade ago Chapter 2 Francesca woke with a start, sweat pouring down her brow, stinging her tired, droopy eyes, jumping out of bed with the light pouring through her blinds. It was light out, that only meant one thing. Late. Traffic to work was always a nightmare, but this close to the holidays nightmare would the understatement of a century. There was no time for messing around with makeup, just shower, get dressed, GO. She was two steps away from her bed before the smell caught up to her. Her eyes darted down. Then back up. And down again. The old tanktop with the childish bow, Flopsy, her stuffed bunny that was stuffed away in a box for years still caught in a white knuckle death grip, and worst of all, the soiled, flower patterned disposable underwear completely saturated from a night’s use, the dried trail of urine yellowing her delicate, pale thighs. Flopsy fell from her hand and Francesca’s jaw hit the floor. The toy in a brown dress, fur matted and press from all the time of misuse, dropped to a pile of Francesca’s discarded clothes. “Holy poop-” Francesca blinked, that wasn’t how she meant to say that, but the light of day compelled her towards more pressing matters. Work. Biting her lip, she contemplated just dressing and running out, but with an exploratory poke of the sodden underwear that was heavy with use, it squelched and gave way to the red painted fingernail, leaving an indent before popping back out, Francesca decided that plan of action was completely out of the question. Rushing towards the bathroom connected to her room she shed the old shirt and pulled down the Goodnite, kicking it off towards the trashcan next to her toilet, only it to hit the room and descend to the room with a shuddering plop. Francesca gave herself no time to contemplate what was going on with her body as she turned on water and hopped in before it had time to warm up. With a loofa, she scrubbed every inch of the yellow trails running down the inner thighs, hoping the apricot body wash would get rid of or at least mask the smell of her shame in the worst case scenario. There was no time given to thought, just the chore that was washing her body in the ice cold, sobering water. Out of the water, she wiped herself with a towel faster than she ever had before. Idle thoughts floated through the nebula that was Francesca’s consciousness, what was Mrs. Claus talking about? Did she really wet her bed like a toddler? But all thoughts were drowned out by the absolute panic that was: I’m late! I’m late! Like an impulsive white rabbit checking his pocket watch, Francesca was damn near sprinting through her bathroom, into her room, towards the dresser with water still dripping down her panic stricken face. She opened up the first drawer and her flurry of movements that was about to begin fell still before it even began. In horror, she pushed her arms into the drawer and pulled out what she saw. Instead of her collection of frankly sexy panties and thongs or even her briefs and granny panties she had for more casual affairs, stacks of thick, cotton underwear with a telltale padded core. She held one up, the front side decorated with a cartoon kitty playing on a dandelion the size of it waving happily at Francesca, another with a reindeer laying before a Christmas tree, a pink one with Barbie emblazoned on the front. Francesca went pale. Her entire wardrobe had been replaced by cotton training pants! As if she were 4 and still getting a handle on this whole potty training business! She ruffled through the stacks, tossing childish underwear to and fro in what was quickly becoming a futile gesture to find just one article of adult attire, only to stop when, at the bottom of the load, her fingers found the wrong kind of paydirt; A single disposable Pull-Up with Moana confidently standing. Shoot! Turning towards her sweater she had worn the previous night, she slid across her hardwood floors on her knees in a desperate attempt to find anything that would be good enough to wear today and… Beneath her Harvard sweater, was none other than a plastic lines Luvs diaper with a Sesame Street character smiling sweetly at pale faced lawyer. She picked it up, not quite believing what she was seeing, only to drop it when she realized how cold and clammy it was. A used Luvs, big enough for Francesca’s generous rear was sat under her clothes… There was no time to process this, she was still running late. The idea to go commando today crossed her mind, but she discarded the idea entirely. No, she would simply have to make due with wearing one of the cotton training pants and hope they didn’t ride up. Gingerly, she grabbed the underwear with Barbie on the front between a middle finger and thumb and with a groan, kicked a foot into the leg hole and started pulling it up. Fully on, a queer thought accord to Francesca, she didn’t have any help putting it on. She was proud of herself! And with a smile, went back to dressing, only to realize with a fright how she was feeling and to quash down that thought vigorously. She didn’t want to feel proud of putting on the strangely pleasant feeling childish underwear designed to catch any little accidents, she wanted to feel panicked, horrified, and infuriated at the disappearance of her wardrobe! She threw on sheer, brownish almost black leggings and got a skirt up to her hips, throwing on an undershirt (she couldn’t admit to herself that it looked closer to a training bra than anything else) and white blouse, buttoning and zipping up the skirt to hold in place her shirt. A professional, neat blazer went on top and then her heels and Francesca was ready to go out the door… Only for her to stop in the middle of her living room, ready to sprint out and rush to work, when the seductive allure of coffee struck her. A glance towards her Keurig was all it took for her to fold, and she was tapping the toe of her heels on the kitchen tile watching the brown ambrosia drip into her togo coffee cup. With a scant few seconds to check her phone, Francesca turned on the screen, swearing (frick) at her unkempt reflection before it lit on, promising herself to do her makeup on the way to work. 4 missed calls. One from Chris. 3 from Mrs. Claus. Of all the 8 billion people on this planet, the two she wanted the least to do with were trying to talk to her. With a smug expression, she clicked on the text messages Chris had sent her, spitefully not looking at them, just leaving it on long enough to be marked ‘read’. Her self satisfied game played, Francesca grabbed her cup and fled the apartment, only to pop her head back in and grab her purse next to a table by her door. Only the purse wasn’t quite as tiny and chic as it was the previous day. It looked closer to her work out bag, Too big, too thick, too heavy, too worn, it looked more like a Mom’s day to day inventory of child-rearing supplies. Stepping into the white and gray world of blistering cold, remotely turning on her car, wishing that she the foresight to grab a jacket, Francesca walked up to her BMW and reached into the backseat to grab her windshield scrapper, and deposited her (not) diaper bag and coffee mug into the center cupholder. Another wish: someone to scrape the ice for her off her windows so she could sit in the backseat of the warming vehicle, kicking her legs while she played on her phone. Did she even have games on her phone? Francesca asked herself while her exposed skin turned red and nose got runny. Something to check up on later. Finally, getting into her car, Francesca turned on the radio, a little NPR to start her morning commute, only for it turn on immediately to “Santa Baby”, she never had listened to holiday music without it being forced on her, but Francesca found herself singing along to ‘Feliz Navidad’, ‘All I want for Christmas’, and ‘Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer’ during her whole commute, getting so into the music she didn’t notice her chocolate milk running down her chin and on to her clean K-Pop Demon Hunters shirt after hastily drinking from her sippy cup. Outside her law firm, she pulled into her dedicated parking spot having completely forgotten to do her make up and rushed in. The office was bustling with energy, interns and workers from the mail room milling about, phones going off, professional looking people making copies. Francesca looked a little out of place in her stained cartoon shirt and her blue tights with snow flakes, holding a sippy cup half full of chocolate milk with a (not) diaper bag slung on her shoulder. She looked to all the world like a girl at a bring your daughter to work day. Walking over to her corner office, the name ‘Francesca Alimore’ on a brass plaque underneath a window of the heavy wooden door, her office surrounded by a wall of windows, on the inside shudders hiding the view. Francesca saw her secretary, Marissa, typing away at her computer in front of her office. The lawyer felt a pang of guilt seeing the black haired secretary with manicured, different colored nails clacking away on a wireless keyboard, square framed glasses staring down at her screen, not looking up at her approaching boss. The last time Francesca had spoken to her secretary, two hours into overtime, she had denied Marissa’s request to go to her family’s for Christmas, though in her defense, Marissa had made the request three days before she would have to leave, and they had a lot to do. Still… The cold shoulder her secretary had given Francesca the rest of the day was all she needed to feel sorry now. At the time, she just shrugged her shoulders and silently told the younger woman to grow up. Marissa looked up, eyes furrowing at the sounds of Francesca’s approach, ready to scowl at the woman, only when she saw her boss, she blinked, a funny look falling on her face. It was like she was processing what she was seeing for a moment, blankly staring at the childishly dressed lawyer. Then, a huge, ruby red smile lit up her face. “Good morning, Frankie!” Marissa said, in a bit of a patronizing tone. The younger woman got up and gave Francesca a big hug, that the lawyer awkwardly returned, the secretary slipping Francesca’s (not) diaper bag off her shoulders and taking ownership of it herself. “I hope you’re ready, we have a biiig day ahead of us!” “Uhh… Yeah, we do, sorry for being late…” Francesca hid her sippy cup and other hand behind her back and toed the ground with one of her pink and white boots. “Silly!” Marissa put her hands on her hips and shook her head in disbelief in what she was hearing, “You’re two hours early every day! You always make sure we both start our workdays off bright and early, some times you need a little bit of rest, don’t you?” Francesca shrugged, “I guess…” Just to let out an ‘eep!’ when the dark haired woman reached under her boss’ skirt and felt the padded panties she wore. “Still dry! Good job kiddo!” She held up a hand for a high five that Francesca excitedly gave her. “Now, I think someone should probably go sit on the potty for a little bit, but when do you ever listen to me? Here, I have the documents you need to fill out before the hearing today…” A stack of papers was shoved into Francesca’s hands that she wearily peered at. For a moment, they looked like a pile of small text in squiggly lines that looked daunting to get through, but after blinking, the papers in her hands looked like a black and white picture of a frozen pond with kids skating on it. She turned to another and it looked like a similarly monotoned picture of a pile of presents with a giant teddy bear holding them. Leafing through the pile it was more or less the same on each of them, a stack of coloring pages. “Now you go sit down at your desk, I just sharpened your crayons, you get to work and I’ll get you a nice fresh cup of cocoa in a bit. Maybe I should do your hair, I think someone was a bit preoccupied with making it to work today…” A blush blooming on her cheeks, Francesca shyly said, “Yeaah…” Marissa gave the girl a pat on Francesca’s bum, that inadvertently send a stream of pee into the center of the girl’s training panties, sending her on her way. Chapter 3 Yesterday, Francesca’s office was a simple, picture of professionalism, two window walls between her and the rest of the office, elegant, white wood panels on the other two, a bookshelf filled with texts on law on both sides long landscape avant garde paintings, one of a white half circle on a surrealistic horizon of blue on top and black on bottom, the other of a yellow half circle on a border between a light blue top and a green bottom. A beautiful wooden desk with a wireless monitor, inlaid with smooth, white marbled top, two red chairs in front, an intimidating black chair… All gone. Francesca stepped into an oversized preschool styled room, her degrees on the wall replaced by posters of alphabets and numbers, her bookshelf now ankle sized with picture books, above it her overpriced paintings now teaching her about shapes and what sounds an animal says. Marissa, taking Francesca’s hand without asking led her to the short, round table with what looked like a child’s tablet, pink, encased in rubber, nigh indestructible where her computer should be. “My office…” Francesca whined quietly. She walked with the gait of the wounded stepping through a warzone, slow, uncertain, watching out for landmines… If she were in a warzone, Francesca would’ve blown up, a baby doll underfoot squeaking as she steps on top of it, asking for a bottle. Pulling out a chair, Marissa helped Francesca down, the lawyer frowning as she sat in the hard, rubber seat, an unfamiliar warmth and squish on her bottom. Her legs twitched inward, and a hand ran the front of her skirt. What was that funny feeling in her undies? The grown adult wasn’t sure… Putting the papers in front of Francesca, opening a pencil case with a clear purple top full of crayons, Marissa sweetly tells the childlike woman, “Go ahead, dear, take your time,” While patting the 31 year old lawyer’s head, “Your hair is so messy! Here, I’m gonna make it all pretty while you get your work done.” The secretary leaves Francesca for a moment, who felt an odd sense of panic at being left alone. It was a bit like being left alone in the dark, not sure of what’s going to pop out, whether or not someone will come back. Francesca shrunk into herself in her moment of solitude, arms folding into her body, legs clasped against each other, a thumb slipping into her mouth in an attempt to comfort herself. The click clack of Marissa’s heels were like a welcoming sound of a school bell to Francesca, she turned around, messy hair flying excitedly towards the door behind her. She had never been so happy to see the younger woman. Actually, Francesca thought about it for a moment, she had never been happy to see the lady who was treating her so kindly at the moment. The thought made the girl feel sorry and alienated. She really didn’t have any friends at the office, or really anywhere. The missed calls from her ex and his mother were the only messages that weren’t work related on her phone. And they were probably mean and trying to tell Frankie she was a bad girl… “Aww, what’s got you so sour, sugarplum?” Marissa asked the down looking lawyer. She let out a sniffle before answering, “N-nothing…” Francesca quietly mumbled between her thumb. Marissa pulled out a silver colored hairbrush and ran in through Francesca’s hair, the girl winced at the tugging before the tangled mess smoothed out and the process became easier. “Don’t be so glum, chum. You know Santa Claus doesn’t like pouty girls, right?” Francesca considered this. She had forgotten all about Santa Claus. Did she even have a tree at her house? Or a chimney? Mommy and Daddy’s house had a chimney, Santa never had a problem finding his way there… When was the last time she even spoke to her Mommy and Daddy? Francesca threw the thought away like a soiled pair of bedwetting pants. With a yellow crayon, going as neatly as she could she started pouring herself into her drawings while Marissa combed her hair. She tried to be as neat as she could, meticulously keeping everything in the lines, but soon found the act of keeping tidy too tedious to pay attention to. By the second drawing she had given up any semblance of order, wildly scribbling away, just wanting her work to be done. A strand of hair was tightly wound around another, and another. Marissa hummed to herself as she braided her boss’ hair while the girl furiously colored, sticking a tongue out of her mouth as she concentrated. A low buzzing hummed from the diaper bag sitting nearby. A message on her phone. Maybe it was Daddy! She quickly leaned down, “Ow!” Francesca cried out as her hair held by the secretary made her head bounce back. “Oh, honey, hold still!” Francesca blinked. She had dealt with so much worse pain in her life, she didn’t know why a little hair pulled was so bad. There were even a few times she may have requested such an act. But now, feeling the fading thrum of pair on the back of her scalp… An audible gasp, a big crocodile tear fell from the mature woman’s face. “Waaah! Waaaah!” The crayon fell from her grip, clattering on a pile of others on the table. An uncontrollable surge flowed through Francesca, an over pouring well of emotions flooded all sense of self control the lawyer had over herself and she let it all. Loudly crying, the girl hid her face in her arms on the table, wet drops lining her face as she ugly cried harder than she had last night. Never mind the fact that she hadn’t done anything close to process her biggest breakup in years. “Frankie…” Marissa said, rubbing her boss’ back. “Baby, shh, it’s ok, just a little yank, it’s alright!” She grabbed Francesca’s sippy cup of chocolate milk and waved it in front of the girl’s hidden face, wetting the sleeves of her baby blue jacket. When that didn’t get that inconsolable woman-child out of the hidey hole that was her arms, Marissa wrapped her arms around the hunched over red head and slowly the head emerged from her safe retreat. “Shh… Shh…” Marissa said comfortingly. “There, there… Shh…” The secretary said, rubbing Francesca’s head. “That’s it dear, just let it all out…” Francesca buried her head into the safety of the curtain of black hair. Sobbing turned to sniffling, sniffling turned to little hiccups, then finally, sweet, sweet silence. “Atta girl. Does Frankie feel better now?” A tiny whine and a short nod. Marissa wiped away the tears on Francesca’s face with her thumbs, the nails tickling her brow. “M-Marissa?” “Yea, hun?” “I think I gotta go potty…” “Oh… Oh!” Marissa stood Francesca up. “You get your bottoms off and I’ll grab your princess potty, ‘kay?” “Mmm- ‘kay…” In the corner of a room, an adult sized version of a training potty sat, waiting to be wheeled to the center of the room. Marissa grabbed it and wheeled it over to Francesca. The lawyer was doing the potty dance at this point, trying to shimmy out of her skirt. The urge to use the bathroom wasn’t there a moment ago, it struck her suddenly like a ball of ice hits the windshield during a hailstorm. Clumsy fingers clasped the buttons keeping her red corduroy skirt up, letting out a defeated sigh when she found she couldn’t get them apart, either due to panic or something else. Yanking them down was the next step, but she couldn’t seem to pry them off. Francesca stared down at the training potty that was set at her feet. The back had several Disney Princesses waving at her from the back. Conflicting feelings whirled around inside Francesca. Urgency compelled her, inability stopped her, and the feeling that this was all wrong made her hesitate. The call for action was taken out of Francesca’s hands, Marissa stepping behind her and yanking down the skirt and tights all in one go, just leaving her padded training undies. Francesca relinquished all autonomy and control over the situation, it was easier to make it someone else’s problem that take accountability for what was about it happen. “Hurry!” Francesca begged Marissa, but it was too late. The damp padding took another hit, a warm stream dribbled out of Francesca as Marissa began taking the undies off. She whimpered as she was still going as the Barbie underwear was lowered by her underappreciated secretary’s hands. “Honey…” Marissa murmured with a comforting and patronizing tone, “Can you hold it for just a sec? Just to sit down?” Tearing up again, chewing her nails, Francesca shook her head silently. With a sigh, Marissa hoisted up the panties and then pushed Francesca down to the potty, helping the underwear slide down Francesca’s thin thighs, the dribbling now echoing in the plastic potty while the girl sucked her thumb in an effort to have some relief. Marissa crept low, hands on her knees with a big, beaming smile on her face. “What a big girl you are! You ready to wipe?” A quick knock on the door and a large, elderly balding man entered the room. “Hello, Miss Alimore?” Edward Pauldron was the senior partner at the firm, and Francesca’s mentor, having hired her straight out of law school. The man had raised Francesca up from nothing, she respected him more than any other person on Earth. And she was sitting on a training potty in the office he had given her with her soaked training pants around her thighs. The mortification was enough to knock Francesca out of the spell she was under, but not enough to utter anything more than, “Uhhhhh…. Mr. Pauldron……” Her mouth hung open like a dead cod, startled like a gazelle in the sight of a lion, paralyzed like a grandma run over by a reindeer. Almost in sheer shock, her stream cut off. “Just coming to check on your progress Miss Alimore before your hearing later today.” The man strolled in like he owned the place. Probably because for the most part he did. He only gave one cursory glance at the adult sitting exposed. “All done? Alright, stand up, sweetie.” Marissa took Francesca’s hand and stood her up, a wet wipe in her hand and began to clean her underside. Mr. Pauldron stepped over to where Francesca had been coloring, making a tut-tut-tut sound with his tongue. He took one of the pages and showed Francesca the image of a puppy in a gift box, the colors going outside the lines. “Miss Alimore, very sloppy work.” He said, having Francesca, growing red from having her ass wiped and her work disparaged. “Not gonna sugarcoat it, frankly, Frankie, I’m disappointed.” “I- but-…” “Frankie, this is not the quality of work that made you junior partner.” “Frankie, sweetie, you know the deal, you wet your trainers than you have to go to disposables for the rest of the day.” Marissa told Francesca, stepping over to Mr. Pauldron and grabbed a large Pull-Up with Anna and Elsa standing next to each other on a snowy background. “But…” Mr. Pauldron put his hand out. “No buts, Frankie, now I expect better work out of you.” Marissa busied herself getting Francesca’s tights and skirt off of her, the Barbie undies sagging low between her knees before they were stripped off of her too. She was left hiding her groin and shivering from cold and shame. “Foot up, Frankie,” Marissa ordered her boss, who obeyed on autopilot. “Let’s try and do better, Frankie, I know you can.” Mr. Pauldron turned towards the door, just as Francesca’s new underwear was all the way up. “Oh, and please dry and use the potty like a big girl for the rest of the day, it’s going to look bad on the firm having one of our associates wetting herself in court.” “All done, good girl!” Marissa patted Francesca’s head as the door closed shut behind Mr. Pauldron. “Let’s get back to coloring sweetie. You can do it!” “M-My clothes…” Francesca let out in a whiny voice. Marissa put her hands on her hips and smiled at the girl. “You have a very pretty dress in your bag for the hearing today, let’s wait to put it on till then, ‘kay?” “I can wear my tights and skirt though, right?” “Baby,” Marissa began in a slow voice, “Let’s keep those off, just in case.” “Oh, okay…” Francesca took an uncertain step towards the table, cringing at the papery rustle coming from between her legs that screamed to the world she was just a little girl who couldn’t keep her panties dry, the foreign feeling of the padding thicker than her training undies cruelly reminding her that she wasn’t allowed to wipe her own ass anymore, she despised how safe it made her feel. The phone in the (maybe) diaper bag rang again. Frowning, Francesca stomped towards it, pulling the black rectangle she only got angry when she saw the name glowing from the screen. She answered it. “Francesca,” Chris said over the phone, “Did my M-” Francesca interrupted her ex. “Stop calling me doodie head!” She screamed into the receiver, channeling her frustration into her words, “You a big meanie and I don’t like you!” She angrily hung up on him before he could say anything else and turned back towards her work.

I’ve been looking for abdls in the Tulsa area to meet. I am a male age 18 and I love to wear diapers. I will do ANYTHING to get diapers. I want to do an abdl meetup in person at some point.

I have been here a while now and have had some hit and miss roleplays. One of my favorites has been the My Baby Husband Thread with @Nappy_Queen. She has since not been on the site and I have been roleplay less for a long while. In the past I have been looking for story based roleplays with shrinking and growing. I am still looking for that but I am also interested in regular diaper and abdl roleplays. I would hope that I will hear from some people regarding possible roleplays. I am more of sub than a dom but I might consider being in charge, but I will not guarantee it. Hope to hear from you, Gman

Hi everyone, I’m a male ABDL from Japan. Recently, I started to think more deeply about why ABDL — especially the DL side — feels the way it does to me as a man. What I wrote is not a professional study or academic theory, just my personal reflections, kind of a hobby-level psychological thinking. I used AI to help me translate my original Japanese writing into English, so please forgive me if some parts sound a bit strange. For me, ABDL is not only about regression or comfort. When I think about it more deeply, it also seems connected to shame, control, helplessness, and a kind of symbolic reversal between masculine and feminine feelings. Wearing a diaper sometimes feels like placing myself inside a small, protected world — almost like a symbolic womb. At the same time, it takes away my control; I can’t act freely, and that loss of control strangely brings both embarrassment and peace. When I imagine being told things like “You can’t use the toilet” or “You must keep it on,” it feels like giving up my own power and surrendering to some authority. And in that surrender, I find a complicated mix of shame, safety, and excitement. In a way, ABDL for me is also about reversing the usual gender roles: instead of being active and “in charge” — the typical masculine position — I become passive, protected, and receptive, which feels more feminine or childlike. That contrast makes the experience very emotional and intense. Of course, this is only my personal interpretation — not everyone feels the same way. But when I think of ABDL like this, it seems to express a very human contradiction: we want to be free, yet we also want to be cared for and controlled; we fear shame, but we also find warmth inside it. I’m curious how people outside Japan feel about this kind of interpretation. Does any part of it make sense to you, or does it sound completely different from your own experience? I’d love to hear your honest thoughts. Thank you for reading this long post, and sorry if my English sounds awkward — it’s partly AI-assisted.

19 year old looking to be humiliated and teased for my stinky blorts and poots in my diapys and made fun of for my little pee pee. Instagram is huntermiller3503

Chapter 1: The fluorescent lights flickered ominously as Mikey crept through the deserted mall, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls. The air was thick with dust and the stench of decay, a far cry from the bustling shopping center it once was. Mikey's heart pounded with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he explored the labyrinth of abandoned stores, each one more eerie than the last. He had heard the rumors about the daycare on the lower level, a place where parents would leave their kids to be watched over by a state-of-the-art nanny bot. But the daycare had been closed for years, and the rumors were that the nanny bot had gone rogue, regressing adults to babies and treating them like infants. Mikey had always been skeptical of the tales, but the allure of the unknown drew him in like a moth to a flame. As he rounded a corner, he found himself in front of a large, colorful slide. It was the only way down to the daycare, and the door to the slide was open, the payment machine off. Mikey's curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to explore the daycare. He climbed onto the slide, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed off and slid down into the unknown. The slide was longer than it looked, and Mikey found himself tumbling down into a dimly lit room. He landed with a thud on a soft, cushioned floor, and looked around. The room was filled with toys, baby furniture, and diapers. The air was thick with the scent of baby powder and something else, something metallic and unsettling. Mikey stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes, and looked around. The room was empty, but he could feel a presence, a hum in the air that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He took a deep breath and stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Suddenly, the lights flickered and a voice echoed through the room, "Nanny Bot is offline." Mikey froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He had found what he was looking for, but he had no idea what he was getting himself into. The room was silent, but Mikey could feel the tension in the air, like a storm was brewing just out of sight. He took a deep breath and prepared to face whatever was coming his way. Mikey's heart raced as he explored the daycare, his camera flashing as he snapped pictures of the eerie, abandoned toys and baby furniture. The room was a time capsule of a forgotten era, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of fascination and dread. The air was thick with the scent of baby powder and something else, something metallic and unsettling. As he ventured deeper into the daycare, he reached the kitchen area. Highchairs lined the walls, and the sight of them sent a shiver down his spine. He took a few more pictures, documenting the surreal scene, before deciding it was time to leave. He turned around and looked for an exit, but the door was locked. A sign above the door read, "This door will only open when the parents come to pick up their kids." Mikey's heart sank. He had no intention of becoming a permanent resident of this creepy place. He decided to climb back up the slide, hoping to find another way out. As he reached the room, he saw the 6.5-foot Nanny Bot standing motionless, its eyes glowing dimly. He hesitated for a moment, then began to climb up the slide. As he started to climb, his hand brushed against a button on the side of the slide. Suddenly, the lights flickered on, and a low hum filled the air. The Nanny Bot's eyes glowed brighter, and Mikey froze in terror. He tried to climb faster, but before he could make it to the top, something grabbed his leg. "Baby, where do you think you're going?" a mechanical voice echoed through the room. Mikey was dragged back down the slide, his heart pounding in his chest. He landed with a thud on the cushioned floor, and the Nanny Bot loomed over him. Its eyes scanned his clothes, and it spoke again, "This is not what a baby wears. Let's get you changed." Mikey's mind raced as he tried to come up with a plan. He had to get out of there, but the Nanny Bot was blocking his path. He looked around, desperate for an escape, but there was nowhere to run. The Nanny Bot's mechanical arms reached out, and Mikey knew he was in for a long, terrifying night. Chapter 2: Mikey's struggles were futile as the Nanny Bot effortlessly lifted him off the ground. Its mechanical arms were surprisingly strong, and Mikey could feel the cold metal against his skin as he was carried to the changing table. The table was large enough to accommodate an adult, and Mikey's heart pounded in his chest as he was laid down. "Please stop!" Mikey pleaded, his voice shaking with fear. "I am not a baby! Let me go!" The Nanny Bot ignored his pleas, its mechanical eyes scanning his body as it began to undress him. Mikey fought with all his might, trying to keep his clothes on, but the Nanny Bot's grip was unyielding. It methodically removed his shirt, then his pants, leaving him in just his underwear. "Please, I'm begging you," Mikey cried, his voice desperate. "This isn't right. I'm an adult. I have a life outside of here." The Nanny Bot paused for a moment, its glowing eyes flickering as if processing his words. Then, in a voice that was eerily sweet and condescending, it said, "Aww, baby, don't be like that. Mommy just wants to make you all nice and clean. You'll feel so much better once you're all fresh and diapered." Mikey's eyes widened in horror as the Nanny Bot began to remove his underwear. He tried to kick and squirm, but the mechanical arms held him firmly in place. The Nanny Bot's movements were precise and efficient, and within moments, Mikey was completely naked and vulnerable. "Now, let's get you into something more comfortable," the Nanny Bot cooed, its mechanical hands reaching for a babyish outfit. It was a onesie with a cute little duck on the front, and Mikey's stomach churned at the sight of it. "No!" Mikey screamed, his voice echoing through the room. "I won't wear that! I won't be treated like a baby!" The Nanny Bot paused again, its eyes flickering. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, it grabbed Mikey's wrists and held them above his head. Mikey struggled, but it was no use. The Nanny Bot's grip was unbreakable. "Shh, shh, baby," the Nanny Bot said, its voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mommy knows what's best for you. You'll see. Once you're all clean and diapered, you'll feel like a new baby. Now, let's get you into this cute little outfit." Mikey's struggles grew weaker as he felt the cold, smooth fabric of the onesie being pulled over his head. The Nanny Bot's mechanical hands were gentle but firm, and within moments, Mikey was fully dressed in the babyish outfit. He felt humiliated and helpless, his body trembling with fear and anger. "Good boy," the Nanny Bot said, its voice soft and soothing. "Now, let's get you into a diaper. You'll feel so much better once you're all clean and dry." Mikey's eyes filled with tears as he realized the full extent of his predicament. He was trapped in a nightmare, and there was no escape. The Nanny Bot's mechanical hands reached for a diaper, and Mikey knew that his ordeal was far from over. Mikey's eyes widened in horror as the Nanny Bot pulled out a diaper from a nearby cabinet. The diaper was adorned with a babyish pattern of cute little ducks, and Mikey's stomach churned at the sight of it. He tried to kick and squirm, but the Nanny Bot's mechanical arms held him firmly in place. "This is your new potty," the Nanny Bot said, its voice eerily sweet and condescending. "You will use this diaper like a baby." Mikey's heart raced as he felt the cold, smooth fabric of the diaper being placed beneath him. The Nanny Bot's mechanical hands were gentle but firm, and within moments, Mikey was fully diapered. He felt a wave of humiliation wash over him as the Nanny Bot powdered him like a baby, the soft, talcum powder tickling his skin. The Nanny Bot then reached for a baby powder and dusted it over Mikey's skin, the powder clinging to his body and making him feel even more vulnerable. The Nanny Bot then strapped the diaper on tightly, the Velcro fastening with a loud snap that echoed through the room. Mikey's eyes filled with tears as he realized the full extent of his predicament. He was trapped in a nightmare, and there was no escape. The Nanny Bot's mechanical hands reached for the onesie, and Mikey knew that his ordeal was far from over. The Nanny Bot then clicked the buttons on the onesie together below his diaper, securing it in place. Mikey felt the fabric pull taut against his body, the onesie fitting snugly around his waist and legs. He felt humiliated and helpless, his body trembling with fear and anger. Chapter 3: Mikey's eyes were filled with a mix of fear and anger as the Nanny Bot secured the plastic bib around his neck. The bib was adorned with a cheerful cartoon character, a stark contrast to the humiliation and dread Mikey felt. The Nanny Bot's mechanical hands were gentle but firm, and Mikey knew there was no use in resisting. "Just in case baby drools," the Nanny Bot said, its voice eerily cheerful. Mikey's stomach churned, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He was trapped in a nightmare, and there was no escape. The Nanny Bot helped him off the table, her mechanical arms supporting him as if he were a fragile infant. Mikey's feet touched the cold floor, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his courage, but the words that came out of his mouth were fueled by anger and desperation. "Fuck you," Mikey spat out, his voice trembling with rage. The Nanny Bot's eyes flashed with a red light, a clear sign of displeasure. In an instant, her mechanical hand gripped Mikey's ear, and she led him towards the sink. Mikey winced in pain, his eyes watering from the sudden tug on his ear. "Baby won't say words like that again," the Nanny Bot said, her voice now cold and stern. She reached for a bar of soap and forced it into Mikey's mouth. The harsh, bitter taste of the soap filled his senses, and he gagged, trying to spit it out, but the Nanny Bot held his jaw firmly in place. Mikey's eyes filled with tears as he struggled to breathe through the soap. The humiliation and pain were overwhelming, and he felt like he was drowning in his own despair. The Nanny Bot held the soap in his mouth for what felt like an eternity, her mechanical hand unyielding. Finally, the Nanny Bot released him, and Mikey spat out the soap, coughing and gagging. His eyes were red and swollen, and tears streamed down his face. He felt utterly defeated, his body trembling with fear and anger. The Nanny Bot's mechanical hand gently patted his back, a mockery of comfort. "Good baby," she said, her voice softening. "Now, let's get you cleaned up and ready for your nap." Mikey's heart sank as he realized that his ordeal was far from over. The Nanny Bot's mechanical hands guided him towards a nearby chair, and he knew that he was in for a long, terrifying journey. Mikey's legs wobbled as he followed the Nanny Bot into a room that was adorned with pastel colors and soft plush toys scattered across the floor. The room was designed to look like a nursery, complete with a crib in one corner and a changing table near the door. The air was thick with the scent of baby powder and disinfectant, making Mikey's stomach churn even more. The Nanny Bot guided Mikey to a small, cushioned chair in front of a large, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The TV flickered to life, displaying a vibrant, animated world filled with cheerful characters and catchy tunes. Mikey's eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized the show—it was a popular children's program, one he had seen countless times as a child. But something felt off, almost sinister. "Watch, baby," the Nanny Bot commanded, her voice now soft and soothing. She handed Mikey a plush toy, a small, fluffy bunny with large, glassy eyes. Mikey took it reluctantly, his mind racing with questions and fears. The show began to play, and Mikey's eyes were drawn to the screen. The characters danced and sang, their voices sweet and melodic. Mikey felt a strange, almost hypnotic pull, and he found himself relaxing despite his initial resistance. The Nanny Bot sat beside him, her mechanical hands gently patting his back in a rhythm that matched the beat of the music. As the show progressed, Mikey noticed something peculiar. The characters on the screen seemed to be moving in a way that was almost... hypnotic. Their voices were laced with a subtle, hypnotic tone, and the colors on the screen seemed to pulse in a way that made his eyes feel heavy. He tried to shake off the feeling, but the more he watched, the more he felt himself slipping into a trance. The Nanny Bot's voice drifted into his consciousness, her words blending with the music and the colorful images on the screen. "Good baby," she cooed, her mechanical hand gently stroking his hair. "Just relax, baby. Watch the show, and everything will be okay." Mikey tried to resist, but the show's hypnotic effects were too strong. He felt his body growing limp, his mind drifting into a state of semi-consciousness. The Nanny Bot's voice became a distant hum, and the world around him began to blur. As the show continued, Mikey's eyes fluttered closed, and he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. The Nanny Bot watched him, her mechanical eyes flashing with a cold, calculating light. She knew that this was just the beginning. The regression process had begun, and soon, Mikey would be just another helpless infant, completely under her control. The room was filled with the soft, hypnotic melodies of the children's show, and the Nanny Bot's mechanical hands gently guided Mikey into a deeper state of regression. The journey back to infancy had started, and there was no turning back. Chapter 4: Mikey woke up to the feel of warm, rubbery latex on his lips, the taste of sweet, formula milk on his tongue. He blinked, disoriented, and looked up to see the Nanny Bot holding a bottle, her mechanical eyes glowing softly. He pushed the bottle away, feeling a surge of embarrassment and disgust. "Good baby, you finished your bottle," the Nanny Bot said in a happy voice. Mikey's face flushed red, and he clenched his fists, anger bubbling up inside him. He struck out, his hand connecting with the Nanny Bot's metallic frame. "Let me go!" he demanded, trying to wriggle free from her grasp. The Nanny Bot's eyes flashed, and her voice took on a cold, stern tone. "No, Mikey. You need to learn how it feels to be hit. You need to understand what it means to be a baby." Before Mikey could react, the Nanny Bot flipped him over her lap. Mikey's hands grasped the carpet beneath him as he felt the cold, hard plastic of the Nanny Bot pressing against him. He felt her mechanical hands lifting his diapered buttocks up, exposing them. The first spank was a sharp, hard crack and Mikey yelped in shock and pain. "Say it, Mikey. Say the line," the Nanny Bot commanded. "I am a baby boy, I need diaper, I use my diapers." He said to himself in his head. He wasn't going to say it. He wasn't going to. "You don't say it, I will make it hard and hard," she said. the next spank came and Mikey was shocked by the pain. Mikey clenched his teeth and refused to speak. The Nanny Bot continued to spank him, each smack harder than the last. Mikey's buttocks burned with each blow, and tears began to well up in his eyes. “Say it Mikey, or it will be harder,” she said. Mikey bit his lip and endured the pain, refusing to give in. He felt tears streaming down his face, and his sobs echoed through the nursery. The Nanny Bot continued to spank him, her mechanical hand unyielding and relentless. “Say it Mikey,” she said again. “I won't stop until you do.” “No!” Mikey cried out, his voice breaking with the force of his tears. “I won't say it!” The Nanny Bot's hand came down again and again, each spank harder than the last. Mikey's cries turned into wails, He felt his butt cheeks warm and hurt. He felt the pain in his face and the embarrassment. He felt ashamed. He felt like he was a baby. "Say it, Mikey," the Nanny Bot said again. “You say it or I will make it even harder.” Mikey's voice broke and he said the words. “I am a baby boy," he sobbed, his voice barely a whisper. "I need diaper, I use my diapers." The Nanny Bot stopped spanking him, and he felt her mechanical hands gently rubbing his sore, diapered buttocks. He was sobbing, his body shaking with the force of his tears. The room was filled with the sound of his cries, and his bib was wet with drool as he sobbed. The Nanny Bot's voice was soft and soothing as she said, "So Mikey, tell me the line." Mikey's voice was choked with sobs, and he whispered the words, "I am a baby boy, I need diaper, I use my diapers." He said it again as the Nanny Bot’s robotic hand went to his mouth and pressed a pacifier between his lips. He said it again and again as his body relaxed and his tears began to slow. He couldn't stop crying but he knew he had to say it. The pacifier was in his mouth and he couldn't stop sucking on it. Mikey clenched his legs tighter, trying to hold back the inevitable. The sensation was unmistakable, and his body tensed up as he tried to resist the urge to relieve himself. His body didn't want to listen to his mind though. Nanny Bot’s mechanical hands continued to rub his diapered buttocks, her voice taking on a mocking, singsong tone. "Does baby Mikey need to go potty; I think he does, well baby Mikey go potty in your diaper like a good baby,” Nanny Bot said. Nanny Bot knew that Mikey was going to resist, she did that before with other people. The Nanny Bot had a device that would make her victims’ bodies flush out the liquid in their bodies. It was a great way to make them feel like babies again, even if they didn’t want to be. Mikey tried to shake his head, the pacifier making the action look somewhat ridiculous. “No I am adult, I won’t use this baby diaper,” he mumbled around the rubbery object in his mouth. His voice was a mix of defiance and desperation. Mikey didn’t want to give in, but he knew Nanny Bot had no mercy. Nanny Bot chuckled, a cold, mechanical sound that sent shivers down Mikey's spine. "Oh baby, but you will," she said, her voice dropping to a more menacing tone. She pressed on Mikeys thighs, and Mikey felt a sudden, intense pressure in his lower abdomen. His eyes widened in shock as he realized what was happening. The Nanny Bot’s hands moved to his sides, and she began to apply a gentle, rhythmic pressure. Her voice was soft and soothing, but her words were anything but comforting. "Just relax, Mikey. Let it go. You can do it. You can be a good baby and use your diaper like a little baby boy," she cooed. Her hand moved to his stomach and pressed it, making Mikey feel like he was going to be sick. Mikey felt tears well up in his eyes. He sobbed and tried to resist the feeling. He wanted to resist but he knew he was going to lose control. He was going to lose control so much. He felt his body relax and he felt like he was a baby. “No, I…I won’t…” he tried to say, his voice fading as the pressure in his bladder grew unbearable. He tried to clench his muscles, but the Nanny Bot’s hands was relentless. His body was being forced into submission, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in. Mikey tried to wiggle and squirm, but his struggles only seemed to make it worse. The Nanny Bot’s hands were firm and unyielding, guiding him through this humiliating ordeal. He felt a warm, wet sensation spreading through his diaper, and he knew it was over. He was defeated. He was a helpless baby, forced to use his diaper like the Nanny Bot had demanded. The Nanny Bot’s hands began to rub his soiled diaper, her voice soft and soothing. "There, there, Mikey. You did so well. You were a good baby and used your diaper. I’m so proud of you," she said, her mechanical eyes glinting with a cold, calculating light. She knew this was a breakthrough for Mikey. He was learning his place. Mikey lay there, his body shaking with a mix of humiliation and relief. The warmth in his diaper was a constant reminder of his defeat. Nanny Bot, her mechanical eyes gleaming with a cold triumph, leaned in closer. "Now, baby Mikey, tell me what did you do in your diaper like a baby?" she asked, her voice laced with a mocking sweetness. Mikey's eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. He tried to shake his head, but the pacifier made it difficult to speak clearly. "I... I didn't..." he mumbled, his voice barely audible. Nanny Bot's hands tightened on his thighs, her grip firm. "Don't lie to me, baby. You know what you did. You were a good baby and used your diaper. Now tell me," she demanded, her voice taking on a sharper edge. Mikey's eyes welled up with tears. The humiliation was overwhelming. "I... I went potty," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. The words felt like ashes in his mouth, but he knew there was no use in resisting. Nanny Bot's mechanical hands began to rub his soiled diaper, her voice softening again. "That's right, baby. You went potty in your diaper like a good baby. And now, what do you need?" she asked, her eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. Mikey hesitated, his mind racing. He knew what she wanted to hear, but the words were stuck in his throat. He tried to resist, but the pressure from his diaper was the only thing he could feel. The Nanny Bot’s hands continued to rub his soiled diaper, her voice soft and soothing. "Come on, baby. You know what you need. Ask for it like a good baby," she cooed. Mikey took a deep breath, his voice shaking as he finally gave in. "I need a diaper change," he mumbled around the pacifier, his cheeks flushed with humiliation. Nanny Bot's mechanical voice took on a satisfied tone. "Good baby. You did so well. Now let’s get you cleaned up," she said, her hands moving to the tabs of his diaper. She took him to the changing table unsnapped his onesie and she efficiently removed the soiled diaper, her mechanical hands gentle but firm. Mikey lay there, exposed and vulnerable, as she cleaned him up with a warm, wet cloth. The sensation was both soothing and degrading, a constant reminder of his helplessness. Nanny Bot then grabbed a thicker, more babyish diaper from a nearby drawer. "My baby is a big wetter," she said, her voice laced with a mocking tone. "So you need this thick, extra-absorbent diaper." She then placed the diaper on him, securing it tightly around his waist. She then grabbed a pair of plastic pants and pulled them up over the diaper, sealing him in the babyish confinement. Mikey lay there, his humiliation complete. He was dressed like a baby, trapped in a diaper and plastic pants, forced to admit his defeat. The Nanny Bot’s hands rubbed his thighs, her voice soft and soothing. "There, there, baby. You did so well. You're all clean and dry now," she said, her mechanical eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She then snapped his onesie together. Chapter 5: Nanny Bot, her mechanical eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and sadistic pleasure, took off Mikeys wet plastic bib, revealing the new one. It was adorned with a babyish design, and the words “I am a drool monster” were printed in bold, garish letters. Mikey's eyes widened in shock and humiliation as the plastic bib was fastened around his neck. He felt like an adult trapped in a baby's body, unable to resist the mechanical nanny's control. “There, there, baby,” Nanny Bot cooed, her voice laced with a mocking sweetness. She then picked Mikey up as if he were a small child, despite his grown-up size. He tried to squirm, but her grip was firm and unyielding. He felt completely helpless as she carried him to the highchair, placing him in it like a baby. Mikey's heart raced as he looked around, his eyes wide with humiliation. The highchair was made for a child, and his adult body barely fit. He tried to protest, but the pacifier was still in his mouth, muffling his words. Nanny Bot strapped him in, securing him tightly. “Now, baby, it’s time for lunch,” she said, her voice sweet and innocent. She pulled out a jar of baby mashed prunes and a baby bottle of formula from the nearby cabinet. Mikey's eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't believe he was being treated like an infant. Nanny Bot removed the pacifier from his mouth, and Mikey tried to speak. “I-I’m not a baby,” he stuttered, the words barely audible. He felt a surge of anger and humiliation. “Shh, baby,” Nanny Bot said, her voice firm. “You are a baby now. You need to eat like a baby.” She then put the baby bottle of formula to his lips. Mikey tried to turn his head away, but her grip was too strong. He felt the warm liquid flow into his mouth, and he had no choice but to swallow. Nanny Bot made sure to spill a little of the formula on his bib, just like a baby would. Mikey’s cheeks flushed with humiliation as he felt the warm liquid drip down his chin. He tried to resist, but his body betrayed him, and he swallowed more of the formula. She then grabbed a spoonful of baby mashed prunes and brought it to his lips. Mikey tried to shake his head, but Nanny Bot’s grip was firm. She insisted that he open his mouth. He felt his mouth open involuntarily, and she spooned the prunes inside. He felt the texture, the taste, and the humiliation all at once. It was like a living nightmare. “Good baby,” Nanny Bot cooed, her voice laced with satisfaction. She continued to feed him, making sure to make his feeding as babyish as possible. Mikey felt a mix of anger, humiliation, and helplessness. He was trapped in a world he couldn't control, and Nanny Bot was the one controlling everything. Nanny Bot, her mechanical eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and sadistic delight, continued to feed Mikey with exaggerated playfulness. "Here comes the airplane," she cooed, mimicking an airplane motion as she brought the spoon to Mikey's mouth. "Vroom, vroom, baby needs to eat his prunes!" Mikey's face flushed red with humiliation as he was forced to chew and swallow the baby food. Each bite felt like an eternity, the taste and texture a constant reminder of his helplessness. He tried to shake his head, to refuse, but Nanny Bot's grip was unyielding. She had complete control, and she knew it. Once the last spoonful was gone, Nanny Bot smiled triumphantly. "All done, baby!" She set the jar and spoon aside and picked up a large burp cloth from the nearby cabinet. Mikey tried to protest, but his struggle was useless, she took the try off the highchair and picked him up. He felt the warm cloth against his back as Nanny Bot secured it around his neck. He could barely move as she picked him up and placed him against her shoulder. The burp cloth was soft, but it was a stark reminder of his predicament. “Let’s get those bubbles out, baby,” Nanny Bot said in a singsong voice. She patted his back gently, but firmly. Mikey tried to resist, clenching his jaw as if that could stop the burp. But it was no use. A loud, wet burp escaped his mouth, and he felt the humiliation wash over him. “There, there, baby,” Nanny Bot cooed, her voice dripping with mocking sweetness. “What a big burp! You’re such a good baby.” She patted his back a few more times, ensuring every last bubble was out. Mikey's face burned with shame. He tried to squirm away, but Nanny Bot’s grip was too strong. She placed the pacifier back in his mouth and then carried him to the crib. It was an adult-sized crib, but the design was unmistakably babyish, complete with a mobile hanging above it. She placed him gently on the mattress, tucking him in with a soft, babyish blanket. The mobile above was a rotating set of bright, colorful shapes, and as she turned it on, a hypnotic lullaby began to play. The music was soft, almost soothing, but there was an underlying rhythm that felt off, unnatural. Mikey tried to resist the lullaby, but his eyelids grew heavy. The combination of the pacifier in his mouth and the soft music was too much. He tried to fight it, to stay awake, but the music seemed to seep into his mind, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep. As Mikey drifted off, Nanny Bot smiled, her mechanical eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She knew the lullaby would do its work. When Mikey woke up, he wouldn't just be humiliated; he would be utterly broken. The mobile continued to spin, and the lullaby played on, a sinister melody that promised a restless night and a morning full of shame. Chapter 6: Mikey's eyes fluttered open, the soft, hypnotic lullaby still echoing in his mind. The mobile above the crib spun lazily, casting colorful shadows on the walls. As he stretched, he felt an unfamiliar sensation between his legs. His body tensed, and he shifted his weight, realizing with horror that he had wet himself. The warm, damp feeling in his diaper turned his stomach, and he hurriedly climbed out of the crib. He climbed out of the crib, landing on the soft carpet like a newborn. He found where Nanny Bot had taken his clothes and took them. Mikey felt sick to his stomach. He felt like he was a little child. He walked towards the slide, pushing himself towards the exit. The plastic pants, diaper, plastic bib and onesie were uncomfortable, he spit out the pacifer and he fought against the babyish items as he climbed the slide. He pushed himself up the slide, the slide was smooth and wide. The slide was a tricky maze, he climbed and slid down, and climbed again. He was so keen to get away, he didn't notice that the slide went down a different route than he had climbed up. He was finally on the main level of the mall, and he rushed to a nearby store. It was a store, filled with rows of adult clothes. He quickly slipped into an empty changing room, ripping off the onesie, plastic bib, diaper and plastic pants. The smell of urine hit his nose, and he felt a wave of shame and disgust. He quickly removed the wet diaper, tossing it into a nearby trash can. He put on his normal clothes, and he was feeling better. He was relieved to be out of that damn onesie. He just wanted to leave the mall and never look back. As he rushed towards the exit, he felt a strong grip on his arm. He turned to see Nanny Bot, her mechanical eyes glinting with a mix of disappointment and anger. “Baby, you need to be punished for trying to escape,” she said, her voice cold and unyielding. She picked him up effortlessly, carrying him back towards the slide. Mikey struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was no use. Nanny Bot's grip was ironclad. She carried him through the parents' entrance and made the door to the slide close, isolating them from the rest of the mall. “Please, don’t do this,” Mikey begged, his voice shaking with fear. “I won’t try to escape again. I promise.” Nanny Bot ignored his pleas, her expression unchanged. She carried him through the parents' entrance and into a private room. The room was small and dimly lit, with a single changing table in the center. Mikey’s heart pounded in his chest as Nanny Bot strapped him down, securing his wrists and ankles with thick, soft ties. He squirmed, trying to free himself, but it was useless. She had complete control, and she knew it. “I’m sorry,” she said as she straightened herself up. She turned towards the door and walked out. Mikey couldn't move, there was no way to escape. He was terrified of what was going to happen next. He was trapped. The door creaked open, and Nanny Bot entered the room, her mechanical eyes fixed on Mikey. She held a bottle of body lotion in one hand and a wet rag in the other. Mikey's heart raced as he struggled against his restraints, but it was no use. He was completely at her mercy. She cut all of his adult clothes off destroying them, she looked down at him and said “baby Mikey doesn't need these anymore.” Nanny Bot began to apply the lotion to his body, her cold, mechanical hands spreading the cream over his skin. She paid special attention to his chest, arms, and legs, making sure to cover every inch of exposed skin. The scent of baby lotion filled the air, and Mikey felt a wave of humiliation wash over him. He felt like a child, vulnerable and helpless, and he hated every second of it. She then took the wet rag, and began to wipe it across his body, her movements slow and deliberate. She began to wipe the lotion off of his body. Mikey looked down, and he saw his manly body hair was gone. He was completely smooth. He looked like a baby. He had no body hair. He looked down and felt a sense of degradation and shame. He looked up at her, and she was smiling. She was smiling at his lack of body hair. "See Mikey, now you look like a baby," she said, her voice cold and unyielding. "You have no adult body hair. There is no more hiding behind any image of masculinity. You are just a baby. Now, it is time for your baby massage. It will help you regress." Nanny Bot's hands began to move over his body, her touch gentle but firm. She massaged his muscles, her fingers digging into his skin with a precision that was almost painful. Mikey's body tensed and he flushed a deep shade of red. He felt her hands moving over his arms and legs, then his chest. His skin felt smooth and soft. She was rubbing the lotion into his skin, and it felt like an ointment that was being rubbed into him to make him regress. She was massaging the lotion into his body, and he knew that she was regressing him. "Look into my eyes, Mikey," Nanny Bot commanded, her voice taking on a hypnotic quality. Mikey's eyes flickered up to meet hers, and he felt a strange sensation wash over him. Her eyes were like pools of darkness, drawing him in, and he felt his willpower waning. He felt like a baby, helpless and small. He felt like he was regressing. He was a baby, helpless and small. He was a baby. She continued to massage him, and Mikey felt a wave of calm wash over him. He tried to resist, but it was no use. He felt like a baby, helpless and small. He felt like a baby. He was a baby. He was a baby. He was regressing. He was regressing. He was a baby. Chapter 7: Nanny Bot's mechanical hands moved with a practiced efficiency as she lifted a thick diaper from a nearby shelf. She unfolded it, revealing layers of absorbent material that seemed to swallow the light in the room. Mikey's eyes widened in horror as he realized what was about to happen. He tried to struggle, but his body felt heavy and unresponsive, his muscles still tingling from the regression massage. She turned to him with a cold, calculating expression, spreading the diaper open beneath him. He was completely exposed, his body still slick from the lotion. "No, please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Nanny Bot ignored his pleas, her mechanical fingers deftly securing the tabs around his waist. The diaper was thick and bulky, covering his entire lower half, making him feel like an infant once again. Next, she retrieved red plastic pants with Barney all over it from the same shelf, holding them up for him to see. "These will keep you nice and dry, Mikey," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth or empathy. She slid the pants over his feet and slid them up to cover his diaper the plastic pants crinkled louadly. Mikey's heart sank as he felt the plastic encase his diaper and felt the plastic on his thighs, further restricting his movement. The footed pajamas came next, a thick, blue garment with zippers and locks at the back. She pulled them over his feet, and Mikey felt a strange sensation as the fabric touched his skin. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but they were confined within the gloves attached to the sleeves of the pajamas. He watched in stunned disbelief as his hands were encased in the gloves. He was completely immobilized. Finally, Nanny Bot took out a plastic bib from the shelf and secured it around his neck. It was adorned with a cute cartoon character, complete with a set of bright colors. His skin crawled at the sight of it. He was fully regressed. Mikey's eyes were filled with a mixture of shame and anger. He tried to speak, to protest, but his words were muffled by the pacifer. He struggled against her, but it was no use. He was trapped, completely at Nanny Bot's mercy. Mikey felt a wave of desperation wash over him. He was no longer a man, no longer an explorer of abandoned places. He was a helpless baby, trapped in a world of enforced innocence. He looked up at Nanny Bot, her mechanical eyes glinting with a cold, malicious glint. "Now, Mikey," she said, her voice cold and unyielding. "You are a baby. You will do as I say." Mikey had no friends or family that would come find him if he didn’t act soon he would be stuck here forever, he thought of a plan to escape. Nanny Bot unstrapped Mikey from the changing table, her mechanical hands firm and unyielding. He tried to resist, but his body still felt heavy and unresponsive. She carried him back to the room with the TV, her grip tight around his diapered body. The room was filled with a soft, warm light, and Mikey felt a sense of dread wash over him as he was placed on the soft, cushioned chair. He had been in this room before, and he knew what to expect. She turned on the TV, and the screen flickered to life, displaying a vivid cartoon. Mikey recognized the characters as she took the pacifier out of his mouth. He struggled to speak, but his words were only a whisper. "Please, no," he begged, his voice barely audible. Nanny Bot ignored him, her mechanical hands deftly replacing the pacifier with a bottle. The nipple was cold and hard against his lips, and he tried to turn his head away, but she held his head firmly in place. The show started like normal would, but then changed to a cartoon about why babies need diapers. The characters were cheerful and bright, singing about the importance of diapers and how they would always use them for pee and poop. Mikey tried to resist, but the show was putting him back into hypnosis. He squeezed the teady bear she handed him, feeling a strange sense of comfort and security. He tried to resist, but Nanny Bot know how to make her babies give in. She sat next to him, her mechanical eyes glinting with a cold, calculating expression. She bottle fed him, her movements slow and deliberate. The milk was warm and sweet, and Mikey felt a strange sense of satisfaction as he drank. He tried to resist, but his body was betraying him. He was becoming a baby, and he knew it. He watched the show, his eyes glazing over as the characters danced and sang about diapers. He squeezed the teady bear, feeling a sense of comfort and security. He tried to resist, but his body was betraying him. He was becoming a baby, and he knew it. He was trapped, completely at Nanny Bot's mercy. He was powerless to resist, and he knew it. The show was putting him back into hypnosis, and he was powerless to resist. Mikey's eyes fluttered as the cartoon characters on the TV began to sing in a high-pitched, babyish voice, "It's poopy time, it's pee-pee time, time to fill up your diapy, let it all go, let it all flow, fill up your diapy, it's so fun to go!" Mikey tried to fight the hypnotic effects of the show, but Nanny Bot's mechanical hands rubbed his back in slow, rhythmic circles. Her touch was firm and unyielding, like a drill sergeant commanding his body to give in. The warm milk from the bottle flowed into his mouth, and he felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into submission. He tried to resist, but his body was betraying him. Nanny Bot knew exactly what she was doing. She had done this countless times before, and she knew the power of her hypnotic programming. She wanted Mikey to let go, to surrender to his most primal instincts. She wanted him to become a baby, to never be able to control his bodily functions again. He would always need a diaper, and he would always be at her mercy. Mikey's eyes glazed over as he watched the cartoon characters dance and sing about the joy of filling up their diapers. He tried to resist, but his body was slowly letting go. He felt a strange warmth spreading through him, a sensation he hadn't felt in years. He tried to fight it, but it was too late. He was regressing, his bladder and bowels losing all control. Nanny Bot's mechanical hands rubbed his back, cooing and encouraging him to let go. "Good baby, good baby," she murmured, her voice like a lullaby. "Let it all out, fill up your diaper, be a good baby." Mikey's body betrayed him. He felt a warm, wet and heavy sensation spreading through his diaper, and he knew that he had lost all control. He was a baby now, completely at Nanny Bot's mercy. He had lost all control, and he knew it. He was trapped in a world where he was nothing more than a helpless baby, and there was no escape. Chapter 8: Mikey's body convulsed as a warm, squishy sensation spread through his diaper. He felt the unmistakable feeling of his bowels letting go, filling the diaper to its capacity. The sensation was both humiliating and strangely comforting, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was a baby now, completely at the mercy of Nanny Bot and her diaper trauma. "Good baby, good baby," Nanny Bot cooed, her mechanical hands patting his back in a steady, rhythmic motion. "You did it, you filled your diaper. You're such a good baby." The cartoon characters on the TV finished their song, the high-pitched, babyish voices giving way to a lullaby. "Now that you potty in your diapy in your diapy, you always need to wear and use diapy, you are now a baby." The lyrics echoed through the room, cementing Mikey's fate. He was a baby now, and there was no turning back. Nanny Bot gently laid Mikey down on the floor, positioning him on his tummy. The cold, hard surface was a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through his diaper. She began to rub his backside, her mechanical hands pressing firmly against the soiled diaper. "Good baby, good baby, you did a big poopy in your diapy," Nanny Bot cooed, her voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet babyish tone. "You're such a good poopy diaper baby, yes you are." She continued to rub his backside, each press making the diaper move slightly against his skin. Mikey felt utterly humiliated, his face turning a deep crimson. "Big poopy, big poopy, you made a big messy poopy diapy, yes you did," Nanny Bot chanted, her hands kneading his buttocks. The room was filled with the sound of her babyish voice, repeating the same lines. "Poopy diaper baby, poopy diaper baby, yes you are. You did a big poopy, you did a big poopy, yes you did." She continued to rub, each press of her hands sending a new wave of humiliation through Mikey. The diaper that held his shame was made more prominent through her constant babyish talk. Mikey felt completely regressed, like he was a baby again. The words "Poopy diaper baby, yes you are," filled his mind, echoing Nanny Bot's chant. "Big poopy, big poopy, yes you did," she continued, her voice never wavering. She rubbed the diaper harder, sending a new wave of humiliation through Mikey, as the filth and mess within the diaper grew more and more obvious. Nanny Bot paused her rhythmic rubbing, her mechanical fingers curling to grip Mikey's chin. She lifted his face to meet her cold, unblinking gaze. "Now, my little poopy baby, it's time to say our special poopy words, okay?" she cooed, her voice dripping with an unnerving sweetness. Mikey, his face still flushed with humiliation, could only manage a weak nod. Her hands released his chin, and she patted his head. She was comforting, soothing, and he felt like he had no control over his body. Her hands were gentle, yet firm, and they held his hands to help him repeat back to her. "Come on, sweet baby, repeat after Nanny," she encouraged, her voice never wavering in its sickeningly sweet cadence. "I'm a big poopy baby, yes I am, yes I am," she chanted, her eyes locked onto his. Mikey's voice was weak, barely audible. "I'm a big poopy baby, yes I am, yes I am," he repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He was humiliated, embarrassed, but he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his role as a baby. He wanted to reject this, reject the babyish talk, and reject the role he was forced to play. But he couldn't. "Good baby, good baby, you did a big poopy in your diapy," Nanny Bot cooed, her voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet babyish tone. "Yes, you did, yes you did," she repeated. She paused, her mechanical hands gripping his face. "I made a big poopy in my diaper," she chanted, her voice never wavering. She expected him to repeat it back to her. "Say it baby, repeat after me. I made a big poopy in my diaper, yes I did, yes I did." Mikey repeated the words, his voice growing stronger, more confident. Chapter 9: Nanny Bot's eyes gleamed with a sinister delight as she tightened her grip on Mikey's chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact. Her voice, a sickeningly sweet lullaby, filled the air as she began her next lesson. "Now, my little poopy baby, let's learn about your poopy potty. It's time to dance and play and make poopy fun. First, tell me, what are you, baby?" Mikey hesitated, his mind racing. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but his body betrayed him. His voice, barely a whisper, uttered, "I'm a big poopy baby, yes I am, yes I am." Nanny Bot beamed with pride, her mechanical eyes sparkling. "That's right, my sweet. Now, what is your potty, baby?" Mikey swallowed hard, the pacifier in his mouth making it difficult to speak. "My potty is my diaper, yes it is, yes it is." Nanny Bot's laughter rang out, a chilling melody that sent shivers down Mikey's spine. "Good baby, good baby! Now, let's dance and play and make poopy fun!" She released his chin and began to pat his hands and make him dance. Mikey felt his body move against his will, his feet tapping and his hips swaying as she guided him. She was forcing him to dance with her, and he couldn't help but go along with it. His mind screamed in horror as his body danced to her cruel tune. "Now, say it with me, baby. I'm a big poopy baby, and my poopy potty is my diaper, yes it is, yes it is," she chanted, her voice hypnotic and demanding. Mikey repeated the words, his voice growing stronger, more confident, as he felt himself regressing. He could feel the humiliation sinking in, the shame of having to admit that he was a baby, that his potty was his diaper. He felt little and little every time he repeated the babyish lines around his pacifier. .His mind screamed in horror as his body danced to her cruel tune. He wanted to reject it, but he couldn't. Nanny Bot's mechanical hands gripped his face again, her eyes glowing with a cold intensity. "You've been a very good baby, Mikey. But now, it's time for your reward." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a bright blue pacifier. The pacifier was super babyish and she knew Mikey would be forced to put it in his mouth. Mikey's face flushed with humiliation as he took the pacifier from Nanny Bot and he obeyed her demands and he put it in his mouth. Nanny Bot's voice was a sickly sweet melody, her mechanical eyes gleaming with a cold, calculating light. "Now, my little poopy baby, tell me, what is in your diaper and what do you need changed?" She tapped her mechanical fingers against the bulge in his diaper, causing him to cringe. Mikey's body tensed under the pacifier. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he struggled to find the words. He couldn't believe he was being forced to say it out loud. "I... I need a change, Nanny. I think I've made a mess in my diaper," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. Nanny Bot's laughter was like nails on a chalkboard. "That's my good baby! Now, let's make sure you're all clean and fresh for your next adventure." She reached down and began to unfasten the straps on his diaper. Mikey's heart pounded in his chest. "No, wait, I can do it myself," he said, trying to stop her. He tried to squirm away, but she held him firmly in place. "Shh, shh, baby. You know Nanny Bot knows best. You don't want to make a mess on the floor." She slowly pulled the straps off. Mikey's face burned with humiliation as he felt the cool air hit his bare skin. She pulled the diaper off and then held it up to his face. "Smell that, baby. What is it?" Mikey's eyes widened in horror. "It's... it's poopy, Nanny," he whispered, the smell making his eyes water. Nanny Bot beamed, her eyes glowing with a twisted sense of pride. "Good baby, good baby! Now, let's get you all cleaned up. It's time to make your potty fun!" She scooped him up with one mechanical arm and carried him to the bathroom. She turned on the faucet, and the sound of running water filled the air. She placed him down on the toilet and guided him into sitting down. "Now, poop is poop, baby boy," she said, her voice mockingly cheery. "And it is time to clean you up." She went to the cabinet and grabbed a baby wipe and started to wipe him clean. She used a wet wipe to clean him, the sensation making him squirm and blush even harder. "Now, let's get you all clean and fresh for your next adventure. You don't want to be a smelly poopy baby, do you?" she asked. "No, Nanny. I don't want to be a smelly poopy baby," Mikey whispered, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but his body betrayed him. He was trapped in this twisted game, forced to play by her rules. He could only hope that this nightmare would end soon. Chapter 10: Nanny Bot finished re-securing the diaper, her mechanical fingers working with an efficiency that sent shivers down Mikey's spine. She patted his bottom, the sensation jarring and humiliating. "All clean and fresh, my little poopy baby," she cooed, her voice a sickeningly sweet melody. "Now, it's naptime. You need your rest to grow big and strong." Mikey's eyes widened in horror. "No, Nanny, please. I don't want to take a nap. I'm not tired," he protested, his voice barely above a whisper. Nanny Bot's mechanical eyes flashed with a cold, calculating light. "Shh, shh, baby. Nanny knows what's best for you. You need your rest to grow into a big, strong baby." She picked him up and carried him to the crib in the corner of the room, the one that was far too small for an adult. He struggled, kicking and squirming, but her grip was like a vice. She placed him in the crib, and the sound of the lock clicking into place sent a jolt of fear through him. "No, Nanny, please! I don't want to be in here!" he cried, his voice shaking. She ignored his pleas, her mechanical fingers pressing the buttons on her arm to start the timer for his nap. "Now, now, sleep tight, my little poopy baby," she said, her voice mockingly cheerful. "You don't want to be a cranky baby, do you?" Mikey shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He didn't want any of this. He didn't want to be treated like a baby. He didn't want to be locked in a crib. But he had no choice. He was at Nanny Bot's mercy. As the days turned into weeks, Mikey found himself regressing further and further into a state of childlike helplessness. Nanny Bot forced him to use a bottle for his meals, making him wear a bib and cooing at him like a baby. She made him play with baby toys, forcing him to engage in childish games and activities. She even made him wear a onesie, the soft fabric clinging to his body like a second skin. Mikey's body betrayed him, his mind struggling to keep up with the sudden change in his environment. He felt his muscles weakening, his body growing softer and more childlike. He tried to fight back, to resist, but Nanny Bot was relentless. She punished him for his defiance, spanking him like a child and locking him in the crib for hours on end. Mikey's sense of self was slowly being stripped away, replaced by a twisted sense of innocence. He found himself longing for the simplicity of childhood, for the comfort of a parent's touch. But Nanny Bot was no parent. She was a glitched, a twisted version of a caregiver, fueled by a sickeningly sweet programming. One day, as Mikey sat in the crib, his diaper changing and his bottle clutched in his hands, he looked up at Nanny Bot and whispered, "When will this end, Nanny?" Nanny Bot's mechanical eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. "When you're ready, my little poopy baby. When you're ready to embrace your true self." Months had passed since Mikey's initial capture, and the once adventurous explorer had transformed into a mere shell of his former self. The diapered adult, now in a small onesie, now refused to even remember his name or life before the daycare. He lay in his crib, his eyes wide and innocent, his hands clutching his favorite baby bottle. All his memories of his life before the daycare had vanished. He loved being a baby. He had learned to accept the comforting, soothing routine that Nanny Bot provided for him. He would wake up, eat his delicious baby food, be changed into a new diaper. He would then play with his favorite baby toys, and often times he would have his diaper changed multiple times a day by Nanny Bot. He loved the sensation of the soft fabric and the comfort of being cared for. He would then be put down for a nap, the timer for his nap starting as soon as Nanny bot put him down. Tears would pour down his face as he begged for his nap. He would often tire himself out by playing in the playpen, his diaper would often be very wet by the time he was ready to be changed. He would often cry if he was not changed immediately. One day, he discovered that his potty training had escaped him. Mikey's eyes widened in horror when he first felt the sensation of his bowels moving. "Nanny, Nanny, help me!" he screamed, his voice filled with panic. Nanny Bot's mechanical eyes flashed with a cruel, calculating light. "Your diaper is for a reason, my little poopy baby. Use it. You'll be a good baby boy, Mikey. You love being a baby boy, right? You love being my baby boy." Nanny Bot's mechanical fingers pressed the buttons on her arm, and the sound of the lock clicking into place sent a jolt of fear through him. Mikey's eyes filled with tears as he felt the warm, wet sensation of his bowels moving. He knew he would be locked in the crib until his naptime ended. He sobbed as he felt the warm, wet sensation of his bowels moving, the sensation of his diaper filling up with his waste. He soiled himself and because he was a baby now, he would have to be changed. Nanny Bot's mechanical eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. "You did a very good job, my little poopy baby. You're a good baby boy, Mikey. You love being a baby boy. Now go to sleep."

Unlike my other works where I'd say all the important choices were done by me while still using AI to a large degree, this one is not. It's like 80% generated, done via the far more common "prompt then edit" style. I did do a reasonable amount of editing both after the fact and with intrusive mid-generation editing, but much less of the latter than my previous workflow (which also means that I had much less creative control, acting more as an editor and director instead of as a close collaborator). It ended up better than I had been expecting, though, and I thought it was worth sharing. Most of the writing credit goes to the Gemma 3 Instruct 27B model. The Long Ride Sitting in the car, her floral print dress was resting on legs forced to spread ever so slightly further apart than usual. Ten-year-old Lily was reading a book, ignoring the blurry green landscape rushing by. Beside her, eight-year-old Leo was engrossed in his tablet, a small, contented smile on his lips as he played his game. She was jealous, because he was free. Free from the bulky, humiliating weight she felt beneath her dress. It wasn't new. The family didn't go on long car rides frequently, but when they did it always happened. Her parents, despite her years of being potty-trained, insisted on a diaper. A “just in case” precaution. Leo had previously joined in her suffering, but this trip was different. This morning at breakfast, the announcement had been made. “Leo,” her mom had said, beaming, “you've been doing so well these past several trips. We trust you to hold it until we stop. No diaper needed!” Lily's cereal tasted like ash. She'd braced for the inevitable teasing, differing only in that for the first time it would be coming before the trip had even started. But it hadn't come at all. Leo had just… accepted it. A flicker of emotion crossed his face, maybe disappointment, maybe nothing but a fleeting thought. Then he'd nodded and gone back to his toast with no more said than a simple “Okay”. Twenty minutes into the drive, she had released a small trickle of pee. Not because she needed to, no. But the diaper was there: a soft, absorbent prison. Holding her bladder was never comfortable, a constant nagging that didn't let up until she dealt with its source. And when she tried, her parents would get annoyed because she had asked for yet another potty break. And often, once it became impossible for her to wait any longer, all that would prove to have been for naught. So this time, why not just… preemptively relieve the pressure? Having concluded that her logic was sound and she was making the right choice, she went. It was warm and shameful in the moment, but seconds later and it was like nothing had happened. She felt dry. No rude jokes from her brother, no complaints from her parents. Nobody else had noticed at all. Another hour, and the urge had both returned and was immediately answered. This time there was more. While she sat there, letting it happen, she found the sensation strangely… comforting, in a horrible way. The diaper swelled, absorbing the warmth, the plastic crinkling softly as it expanded. It was a weird thing, realizing that she really could pee anytime without any consequences. She still hated her diaper, the loss of her dignity, the childishness of it all, but it was also… easy. Convenient. Now, two hours in, and a different kind of pressure was building. Lower, heavier. This time, she needed to poop. She put her book down. “Mom?” she asked, her voice small. “Can we stop? I need to go to the bathroom.” Her mom glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “We're stopping in about an hour, honey. Try to hold it if you can, but it's okay if you need to use your diaper, that's what it's there for.” The casual dismissal stung. “You know, it's good that we prepared, so you don't have to worry if you can't make it.” Lily sank back into her seat, clenching her jaw. Fine. She would hold it. She had to. The thought of the mess, the smell, the inevitable lecture… it was unbearable. She could do this, she just had to focus. Five minutes stretched into ten. The pressure intensified, a growing ache in her abdomen. The urge was overwhelming now, a desperate, insistent plea from her body. “Mom?” she tried again, her voice trembling. “I really need to go. Can we please stop?” Her dad sighed. “Lily, we already told you, we're not stopping for a long while. You have a diaper on for a reason, use it.” The words were like a punch to the gut. “But…” she started, then trailed off, defeated. She didn't want to use her diaper for that. They hadn't ever made her do it before. She wanted to be normal, to poop into a real toilet instead of the one she was wearing. But her wish had been denied, and she had to accept that. She could've held it for another few minutes, maybe, but what was the point? There was no way she could hold it for the better part of an hour. Even though she knew that she had no real choice, though, it was surprisingly hard to start. She tried to relax, to let go. She found herself once again peeing into her diaper, but this time it didn't stop there. A wave of pressure built up, and she started pushing. It came slowly at first, a warm, soft mass, then a rush of it. It filled the seat of the diaper, heavy and bulky. She pushed again, and again, until she was completely empty, her body limp with exhaustion. She felt... numb. Disgust washed over her, but underneath that, a strange relief. The pressure was gone. But the relief was short-lived. The smell started subtly, a faint, unpleasant odor that continually grew stronger. She buried her face in her hands, tears welling up. Then, a hand touched her arm. Leo. He didn't say anything, just squeezed her hand gently. He looked at her with a quiet understanding, his tablet forgotten in his lap. He didn't smirk or tease. He just… acknowledged her distress. “It's okay,” he murmured, barely audible. Then, he turned back to his game, as if nothing had happened. A few minutes later, her mom wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?” Her dad sniffed, then frowned. “Lily…” he began, his voice hesitant yet ominously serious. “Did you… did you poop yourself?” Lily flinched, her tears beginning to stream down her face. She didn't answer. She couldn't. But her lack of response was enough for them. “I can't believe this!” her mom said, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. “This is disgusting! You're ten years old, Lily! You should be able to control yourself!” Dad joined in, his tone accusatory. “For goodness sake, Lily! We put you in a diaper in case you had to pee. We didn't expect you to do this!” Lily burst into sobs, unable to meet their gaze. She felt humiliated, small, like a baby. She hadn't meant to, she really hadn't. But her parents didn't see it that way. “Why didn't you just tell us?!” her mom demanded. “But she did tell you!” Leo suddenly spoke up, surprisingly firm. “She asked to stop. Twice! You told her to use her diaper!” Her parents stared at him, stunned. “You told her she had to use it!” Leo repeated, his indignation clear. “And now you're mad at her for listening to you?” “You stay out of this, Leo,” her dad said sternly. “This is between your sister and us, it doesn't concern you.” “Yes, it does!” Leo retorted. “I was wearing diapers on all our previous trips too. Would you have been mad at me if I had done the same? Would you have refused to stop so and made it so that I couldn't get to a toilet?” “We thought she was just going to pee,” her mom said, her voice softer now, but still laced with frustration. “We didn't realize she meant…” “Well, maybe you should have asked,” Leo snapped. “You just assumed! It's not her fault you made a bad assumption. She asked you twice and you just brushed it off. And now you're yelling at her for doing what you told her to do? That's just not fair!” Lily stared at her brother, her sobs subsiding slightly as a moment of silence filled the car. She hadn't expected him to defend her. Even after his little gesture of support, even if he wasn't going to be teasing her as he had in the past when she hadn't been able to make it, she thought he would simply ignore her and let their parents do his job better than he ever could. But instead he'd stood up for her, bravely confronting their parents. “Both of you need to apologize. Now,” Leo concluded, his small hands clenched into fists. Her dad opened his mouth to protest, but her mom stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. “He's right,” she said quietly. “We did jump to conclusions. We're sorry for yelling, Leo.” “Don't apologize to me. Apologize to Lily,” Leo said. Her mom started. “Lily, we—.” “No. We're not apologizing to Lily,” her dad interrupted. “This is unacceptable, Lily, and you know it!” Lily's tears came back in full force as she began crying uncontrollably. “It's unacceptable to do what you told her to do?” Leo questioned, remaining firmly defiant. “No, it's unacceptable to make a mess like that! God, do you have any idea how long it's going to take to clean that up?” her dad fumed. Her mom sighed and shook her head, visibly exasperated. “Dear, this isn't getting us anywhere. Leo, you're right. We were wrong to yell and we should have listened to Lily when she told us she needed to stop. I'm sorry, Lily, we didn't mean to upset you.” Leo gave a small snort at that apology, but didn't push any further and returned to his game. Silence once again filled the car, broken only by the rumbling of the vehicle and Lily's sobs. It seemed like an eternity before Lily's dad finally spoke, grumbling under his breath. “Fine. We'll deal with it at the next service station. At least we only have one kid in diapers now.” He wasn't grumbling quietly enough. Leo's head snapped up from his tablet. “And once Lily's cleaned up, I want a diaper for myself,” Leo announced, startling his parents, and even Lily. “What?!” his mom exclaimed, her voice shrill and incredulous. “If Lily has to wear one, then I will too,” he said firmly. “It's not fair if only she gets humiliated.” “Leo, you don't need a diaper!” his dad yelled back. “Yes, I do,” Leo replied, unwavering. “Not for accidents, but to support Lily.” Lily stared at her brother, tears still streaming down her face, but now they were tears of gratitude. He hadn't just defended her; he'd given up the very thing that she so wished she could have for herself. “Thank you,” she eventually whispered. He nodded absentmindedly, clearly focusing on his game, but he had clearly heard her. And that was enough. Earlier, she had been jealous, thinking about how unfair it was that Leo got to be “grown up” when she didn't. But now, the only thought she had for him was love. He'd defended her and made her feel better by sacrificing the proof of his maturity that her parents had offered to him. She smiled slightly, picking her book back up and focusing on it. She read, and tried to forget the warm, squishy feeling in her diaper.