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Wattpad 1 Riley lived a monotonous life. Like any other eleven-year-old girl, she would wake up early in the morning, eat breakfast with a bowl of milk and cereal, brush her teeth and become an athlete to catch the bus that would take her to school, spend five hours listening to her teachers' endless speeches, and write down everything important on her notepad. Friends she had none. Not that she minded the company of others, let's be clear; she preferred to stay in the background and be on her own. In group work she would participate enthusiastically and do her part; when it was over she would go back to being the shy, reserved little girl she was. From time to time she imagined what her life would have been like if she had had friends. Probably, it would have been less boring and static and more eventful. Once, she posed the question to her parents, whose answers did not enlighten her much. Her father Greg told her that having friends fills the days with great excitement, while her mother Helen told her that time passes more quickly and cheerfully if one is in the company of a friend. She was still pondering this on her way home from school. She passed Vito's restaurant, then Mary-Ann's china store, then stopped at the supermarket entrance. She looked at it undecided about her next move. It was quite a long way, at least a 30-minute walk. She had finished her water bottle in the story hour; she would be thirsty even before she entered the residential area. She tapped the left pocket of her jacket, she had her wallet with her, therefore money as well. She was sure of it, she had not used it before this moment. Thus, she passed through the entrance and headed for the bottle counter. She took a fresh water bottle and set off in search of the crates, which in a single moment turned into a full-fledged treasure hunt. She found herself in the meat department, continued to the right, all the way to the back, and arrived at the area dedicated to bread. Puffing, she went back four wards and turned left. She was surprised to see the shelf of baby products on one side and the toy shelf on the other. Motionless as a statue, she admired the baby products side, especially the diapers and wet wipes in their colorful and flashy packaging. She came out of her trance-like moment by shaking her head. She reached over and grabbed a package of Pampers Baby-Dry. Fluffy, she thought. I wonder how they will fit me? Suddenly, Riley was struck with a sense of disgust and placed it back on the shelf. Why had she thought that? Why had she stopped there and held a package of baby diapers in her hands? What was happening to her? She took steps back. Her gaze shifted to a young woman with brown hair and delicate face. She, too, was looking at that section with interest. She stopped at the exact spot where Riley had been perched and picked up the diaper package and placed it in her cart. In that instant, their eyes met. Caught in the act, Riley looked away; her mother had taught her that looking at strangers was rude. She blushed. In complete silence, the lady smiled at her and continued on her way. The little girl took one last look at the shelves filled with diapers and other baby products. She would have liked to buy them and use them. However, there was one detail that hammered in her head: she was an eleven-year-old girl and able to listen to her body, not a baby. She went back to find the speakers, putting this strange episode behind her and hoping it would not happen again. I am a big girl, she told herself. And big girls don't wear diapers. * The next day, Riley was there again looking at those shelves full of light blue packages of Pampers Baby-dry diapers stacked one on top of the other and one behind the other forming an impregnable wall. The real reason she was there was still a mystery, but she didn't care at that moment. She was itching to buy a pack of diapers and a package of wet wipes. She reassured herself by saying, "I'll take them now. I'm going to get them now. I'll take them now." As soon as he took the first step, he would immediately retract it. Then, the air grew tenser and tenser, and Riley tried harder and harder not to panic. She did this seven times in a row. "You still here too?" asked a soft voice. The little girl turned her head to her left; it was the woman she had seen twenty-four hours earlier, dressed in a slightly wrinkled dark blue overcoat and brand-new light blue pants. Her first thought was: What a strange coincidence. "Uh-huh," Riley replied, nodding. His heart began to beat faster. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only person in this lane," replied the adult in a friendly, cordial tone. "I forgot to take the wipes yesterday." The woman fetched them and then returned to Riley. "You seem nervous, are you all right little girl?" Riley nodded hastily, as well as giving an unbelievable smile. The woman looked behind her, then turned her focus back to the little girl with a questioning face. "Why are you here?" she asked as she lowered herself to her height, eyes as clear green as an expanse of grass on a sunny day. Quickly, she added, "If you don't mind me asking." Riley remained silent. Why was this woman asking her that question? Was she a woman who had ulterior motives? Where were the adults at that moment? She began to breathe nervously. The woman realized she was being impetuous toward her, so she repeated the question in a lighter, less inquisitive voice, "What brought you here, honey?" "I... I-I don't know," Riley stammered, taking a few steps back. "Maybe..." "You're interested in these things," replied the woman thoughtfully. "It's nothing wrong, you know." Her eyes lit up. The woman continued. "It's a curiosity that a lot of kids have, so there's nothing wrong with... going back to being a little baby and using baby things. " "Really?" "Yes," she replied, smiling, "you're not crazy, you're a normal kid. You're unique." Riley's eyes became glazed over and she rubbed them with the sleeve of her jacket. "I want to make you a proposition, so you are free to refuse," the woman began. "I'll buy you everything you need and drive you home. What do you say?" Without thinking, the little girl shook her head. Such a proposal could not be refused. And Riley already had a counter-proposal in mind to make to the mystery woman. She took courage and proposed to her, "I have the money and I want to take it... but the only thing I need... is... to know how it fits." The woman smiled. "Would you like me to put it on before we part?" Riley blushed embarrassed and looked away from her. No. No! This was going too far; her private parts remained private! The woman chuckled amusedly, "Just kidding, silly! Just lie on top of it, lift it up until you feel it over your belly, and attach the tapes. If you're having difficulty, watch a YouTube video." Riley nodded and in a low voice thanked the woman, before leaving her field of vision he ruffled her hair playfully and wished her good luck with everything. Would she see her again someday? She took a package of diapers, one of wet wipes and a lotion of moisturizer and walked to the cashier to pay. The cashier who had served her, a woman in her 60s, complimented her on being a diligent and responsible girl. She could not blush upon hearing those sweet words; she wished they had been true! Once outside the supermarket, she felt over the moon, and the smile on her face was proof of that. Now, it remained for her to go home and turn back the clock; the day had taken a decidedly more exciting direction than the usual monotony. 2 Once she got home, Riley put her backpack down in her corner and pulled out everything she had bought at the supermarket. After that, she took them to her room and slammed them inside the closet, to hide them better she decided to throw some of her clothes on it. This was fine for the time being; Mom and Dad rarely came into her room and rarely went to look inside her closet. He ate the last slice of margherita pizza left inside the oven. It tasted terrible, but she didn't care so much as long as it satiated her a little. When the impromptu lunch was finished, Riley put her plate and glass back in the kitchen sink and rinsed them quickly, then set them to drip in the cabinet above the sink, just as her father had taught her, who, in turn, had taught her mother. She always did her homework in the kitchen. Usually she would have done them in her room in absolute peace, but being home alone and having hidden in those four walls her diapers, she could not afford to fail in her school duties. "Business before pleasure," her parents often reiterated to her. Literature was one of the boring subjects she found interesting, especially when it came to writing a short text trying to take a cue from a story written by a famous author. This time, she had to write a short text where the main character thought about a long series of concerns regarding his future. Riley did not have to reread the text from which that exercise originated; she already had in mind what she had to write and set about doing it. It took her ten minutes, then she went on to do the homework for the other subjects. At five in the afternoon, Riley finished the last exercise in math, the subject he hated most in the world. She closed all the books she had on the table, stowed all the pens and pencils scattered in her pencil case, and put them back in the bookcase that preceded the threshold to enter the kitchen. Finally free! She ran to her room, nearly tripping, and closed the door behind her. She approached the closet, every fiber in her body was in trepidation, and her hands wasted no time in opening the doors and throwing onto the floor the clothes she had used hours earlier to hide her loot. She still couldn't believe it, she had actually taken them and they were in her room, waiting to be used. She took the package, the wipes and the cream; with clumsy movements she laid them on the floor and admired them as if she were looking at a treasure made of gold and precious jewels. "What am I waiting for?" she asked herself and opened the package of diapers. She took one out and opened it. She studied it for a moment. Delicate, soft and very stretchy. Perhaps too stretchy for what she had expected, obviously it was a garment that had to fit on a multitude of different sized babies. She would have no problem wearing it, she reflected, since these diapers were the largest size she had found on that shelf. It would have to fit. She placed the diaper on the floor. Before sitting on it, she pulled down her panties and underwear. She took a damp washcloth and gave it a wipe down there, then applied moisturizer. She sat on it-as the lady at the super market had told her-and pulled the front over her belly. She was succeeding, the diaper fit, everything was running smoothly, and it was too early to sing victory right away. She attached the left and right ribbons, the diaper was attached to her body. Riley let out a long sigh. Was she dreaming? Impossible, she could feel her skin telling her, "Hey Riley, you're wearing a diaper!" She wanted to really answer, but her mouth was unable to move. She was living the dream. She stood up, the diaper remained there firmly in its position. It's perfect! An idea came to her: her panties were the diaper she was wearing. She took off her shoes (which she had forgotten she still had on), then slipped off her pants and kicked them onto the bed. Her panties fell onto the soles of her feet, the final step was near. She removed her feet from both ends, picked up her pants and put them back on. She looked at herself in the mirror. There she was: Riley, a normal eleven-year-old girl. The little girl looked down at her bottom, the flat padding of her diaper suggesting that she was wearing one and not normal underwear. She opted to change them for jeans, they turned out to be a better choice, her bottom had taken on its normal shape. Within minutes, Riley tidied up her room. The package safely inside the closet with the wipes and lotion; the underpants and panties in the dirty laundry basket in the bathroom and the washcloth tossed in the basket, again, in the bathroom. Everything was clean and tidy as if she had never been there at any time of the day. Mom and Dad would never suspect. At that moment, the sound of the lock came straight to her ears, then the creak of the door led her from the stairs. "I'm home!" announced Helen, her mother, in a tired voice. "Riley?" "I'm here, Mom." Helen looked at her daughter at the top of the stairs and a reassuring smile formed on her face. "Are you all right?" Riley nodded, "Everything's fine. You?" "Tired" she replied, hanging up her jacket. "Done all your homework?" "All of them." "Great," her mother commented happily. "Now I'll start making dinner. Pasta tonight!" * Greg returned at seven o'clock in the evening. Like his wife, he was wiped out from the endless hours at the office, each day the load was getting heavier and heavier, and keeping up with the various deadlines was beginning to become untenable. Seeing his wife's muse-like face and his little girl again lifted his spirits. "Good evening!" Greg entered the kitchen and curtsied. Riley and her mother greeted him with excitement and enthusiasm. Especially Mom, who kissed him fleetingly so as not to lose focus on preparing dinner. To her, however, he gave her a big hug. The pasta was delicious. Mom had been good at cooking it, and each forkful of spaghetti was a one-way ticket to food heaven. Riley cleaned the plate twice. "Gee, Riley!" surprised Helen. "You were really hungry!" The little girl nodded, smiling. "I'll join in!" added Greg, then swallowed a rolled forkful of spaghetti. Helen and Riley laughed. Dinner continued smoothly. Greg and Helen talked about their days, one more messy than the other, and Riley sat listening to them trying to follow the river of their words. She imagined a long stream of water heading toward a waterfall. Riley did not understand why her imagination was making her see this. What was her head trying to say? Then she felt the stimulus down there, the first of the day, that said softly to her, "Pee!" Oh no... not now! Riley remained composed and calm, she was good at not showing her emotions and passing for a different emotional state than she really felt. Peeing at the dinner table? In front of her parents unaware that she was wearing a diaper? What if she wet her jeans? No, that's too risky! She could get up and go to the bathroom, however, she would have to pay attention to the loudness of the diaper tapes. Mom and Dad would surely have heard the tear. She had no other choice, so she let go. The warm pee all over her as if she had dived into the pool, in less than a few moments the absorbent layer of the diaper absorbed it all inexorably. She felt only an uncomfortable damp sensation. All in all, she liked it. Mom and Dad continued with their talk, never stopping for a glass of wine. At one point, Helen stopped and sniffed the air. Seeing her, Riley did likewise; there was a strange, intense smell. "But where is this smell coming from?" she asked suddenly as she looked around. Greg also sniffed and looked around. "What kind of stench is that?" Riley imitated their movements and behaviors. Now they catch me... Now they catch me... Now they're going to catch me.... MOM AND DAD ARE GOING TO CATCH ME! Riley got up from her seat and with slow, silent steps approached the kitchen exit. But her mother's voice planted her there just a few steps from the door. It was over. "Riley, would you come here for a second?" In a barely audible voice, the little girl said, "Uh-oh." * Helen was puzzled at the sight of the undergarment her daughter was wearing. She turned her gaze to her husband who, like her, had no idea what was going on. With the chandelier light pointed at her, Riley lay there on the table in the living room with her jeans down. Her swollen and yellowed diaper was partially covered by her pink long-sleeved shirt. The little girl had a sorry expression on her face, but she did nothing to hide it, and she did not feel like crying. She looked in vain for her parents' gaze. Helen lifted the girl's shirt in a slow movement, then felt the diaper. Heavy and definitely at the limit of its absorbent capacity. She brought both hands together to remove the left tape, but stopped when Riley spoke in a submissive voice, "Mom... I have everything... in my room." Helen pulled her hand away from the child's waist. "What, honey?" "It's all in my room." Greg went and returned, and in his hands was the opened package of diapers with only one diaper missing. The two adults realized he hadn't had it long. Helen then grabbed her by the arms and sat her down. He gave her a stern look. "We would like an explanation, young lady," her father spoke in a firm voice. Riley sighed defeatedly. "Yesterday, I went to the supermarket to get a small bottle of water. As I was looking for the checkouts, I came across the shelves of products for small children... I went back there today and got all this." Greg looked at Helen, then she took the floor, "Why did you buy diapers?" Riley did not answer. "Riley, answer your mother," her father urged her. "I wanted to... wear them... I wanted to try them on," her voice was about to break into tears. Before bringing her hands to her face to hide it, she concluded, "I just wanted to wear them." Silence. "Wait here, we'll be right back," his mother said, walking away with Greg in tow. * Sheltered in the garage, Greg watched Helen pacing back and forth, intent on finding a foothold in that unpleasant, constantly falling situation. He, too, was as confused as his consort, but he did not let panic drive him. He pondered for a long time, then asked her, "What are you going to do?" Helen replied tartly, "I don't know Greg!" "It doesn't look like anything scary to me. It's better than seeing her with drugs in her hand." Helen gasped impatiently. "Gregory, for God's sake, what are you saying?" "I'm saying it's nothing scary. It's just ... diapers." "Just diapers?" she exclaimed exhaustedly. "Just diapers..." he replied uncertainly. "But it's not the end of the world, Helen." "You think if I let her wear them, she'll be okay?" "That might be a good idea," Greg replied sympathetically. "Let's see how the situation develops and-" "And?" "And we'll decide later what to do," he concluded. "Now, how about we worry about her dirty diaper?" Helen watched the door and nodded conflictedly. "I'll need some help changing her, I'm pretty rusty, you know." "All right, now let's get back to her, please." * "Wipe," Helen said, and Greg handed it to her. After that she rubbed it around Riley's private regions, who was enjoying the moment. Once thoroughly cleaned, Helen lifted her bottom, removed her soiled diaper and ordered her trusty colleague a clean diaper. Her husband slipped it off the package and started playing with Riley as he had when she was smaller. As the two of them played, and with a decisive move, Helen stole the diaper from her husband's hands, opened it and tucked it under her daughter's bottom. In a commanding voice, she announced, "Cream?" Greg handed it to her. In no time, Helen slathered it on her and closed her diaper. The magical moment ended in that instant of silence. "Now off to bed, young lady! We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay?" her mother told her in a loving voice. "Okay," and the little girl ran toward the stairs. "Mom? Dad?" "Yes, honey?" her father asked. Riley opened her mouth to speak, but then had second thoughts, "Nothing, goodnight." 3 Her parents were already in the kitchen when she came downstairs. From behind the ajar door, Riley heard the vibrating noise of the coffee machine and the sounds Dad made when he sucked milk from his bowl. Neither of them was talking; what had happened last night had shaken them to the point that they could no longer have a normal conversation, Riley surmised. She could not go back up to her room, her mother would come to wake her up and ask questions again about the.... At that moment, Riley remembered the diaper she was wearing. It had been years since she had peed in bed, and now that she was wearing a diaper, her old problem was back. "Yikes," she said as she pulled her pajama pants forward and looked at the bulging diaper. "Riley?" her mother called her from the kitchen. "Honey, is that you?" Riley pushed open the door. "Good morning." "Did you sleep well?" asked her father cozily. Riley nodded and sat down in her usual place. After that, her mother also joined them, holding her cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Are you okay ... down there?" her mother asked curiously, catching sight of the little girl's pants. "Um..." stammered Riley impishly. "Maybe not." "Don't worry," her mother snapped at her in a soothing tone, "later, we'll fix it." "Okay." "Do you want cereal or cookies with a bowl of warm milk?" her father proposed as he stood up. "I'm not... in the mood... in the mood for breakfast, Dad." "Are you sure?" "Yes," replied Riley confidently. "In your opinion, am I crazy?" Both Greg and Helen were horrified by her question. They looked at each other for a moment, without thinking twice Greg reassured her, "No, no, no. You are not crazy, you are perfect just the way you are." Riley's eyes began to glaze over. "Even though ... I want to wear diapers? Even though ... I'm 11 years old?" Greg opened his mouth to answer, but Helen beat him to the timing. In a firm, loving voice she said, "Yes. If that's what you want, we'll let you." "Really?" the little girl asked, wiping away a tear that ran down one eye. Then she looked her mother straight in the eye. "Yes," she reassured her. "But there will be rules." Riley looked at her mother and father interdictedly. "Rules? What kind of rules?" Greg was also puzzled, but said nothing. Her mother Helen resumed speaking. "If you want to wear a diaper, just tell us and we'll put it on. This implies that only Dad and I will be able to change you and, most importantly, check it if you had an "accident." "If you would not like to wear it and put on big girl panties, just tell us and we will accommodate you. This is first rule. All clear?" "Yes," Riley answered truthfully. She had never taken her eyes off her mother throughout the whole talk. "Second rule: the diaper issue stays between us. It will be our secret. You will only wear it when it's just the three of us. Before you ask, you won't wear it at school, the reason you can guess for yourself," Helen explained. "Fair enough," commented the 11-year-old. "Can I wear it when I go out with you?" "Yes," replied Greg confidently. "I remind you that only Mom and I are aware of your 'secret.' Keep that in mind." "Are there any other rules?" asked Riley innocently. "Nothing else comes to mind at the moment," said Greg then asked his consort, "Do you have any other rules in mind?" "I have nothing to add at the moment." "I do have an addition in mind," Riley spoke cautiously. "But it's not a rule, can I make it anyway?" Helen and Greg exchanged a doubtful look, but they both wanted to hear what their little girl had to say. It was Helen who gave her the floor. "I'd like to get some pull-ups," Riley began determinedly, and seeing the doubtful looks from her parents, she had to make a long speech, "They're panties that are also diapers. If I started wearing diapers, I would start peeing or doing number two without me knowing it. With pull-ups I can go to the bathroom as if I were wearing regular panties. "They are easier to put on. You would rip the sides and slip it on like regular panties. They also have a symbol on the front to tell if I need to be changed." "I have two questions," Greg said puzzled. "When would you wear them? Then, how do you know all these things?" "I'll answer the second question: it's all written on their packages. Answering the first, I could put them on alternately with my underwear to stay trained to go to the bathroom at all times," the little girl answered excitedly. "They can also come in handy for going out," commented Helen. "I think we've talked enough, how about we go get ready?" "To go where, Mom?" "We're going shopping, honey," replied her mother, taking her by the hand and walking her out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?" asked Greg curiously. "We're going to get ready," replied Helen playfully. "Someone needs a clean diaper." * Riley was surprised by her mother's skill and care in cleaning her and putting on her new diaper. The night before it seemed like it was one of the first times she had done it; today, however, she was a veteran with a long experience behind her. "Done," her mother told her as she attached the last tape. "Get changed and remember to put on something that will hide the diaper better." The little girl opted for a long dark green sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans. In front of the mirror, even she could not tell if she was wearing a diaper. Great, I'm ready. Thirty minutes later, mother and daughter, hand in hand, entered the supermarket. Helen was struck to see that sincere smile on her daughter's face. She could not remember when was the last time she had seen her smile like that. Finding the pull-ups was as easy as drinking a glass of water. Riley was over the moon in grabbing the package. Seeing the caricatures of cartoon characters on a pink background left her speechless. She found them as gorgeous as the diaper she was wearing. After paying, they returned home. Once they returned, Helen took the opportunity to check her diaper. She took her to herself, pulled down her jeans and felt her well: she had peed, she had peed a lot! She led her to her room, The little girl threw herself on the bed, eager to be changed clean. "Mom, can I put on one of the pull-ups?" asked Riley as her mother opened her diaper. She grabbed a washcloth and set about cleaning her private parts. Not thinking much about it, she replied, "All right, but when you have to go to the bathroom you have to tell us." Having finished cleaning her thoroughly and applying the cream, Helen helped Riley put on her first pull-up. The little girl did, quite literally, jump for joy. "How are they?" asked her mother. "It's a cross between a diaper and underwear. They are so comfortable!" replied the 11-year-old happily. Helen rolled up the soiled diaper, then said to her, "I'm going to make lunch. Remember to go to the bathroom and rememtell us, okay?" "Okay, Mom," she slipped on her jeans. Just before her mother came out of her room, Riley called her. "Thank you," she told her. Helen smiled at her and left. For a moment, Riley felt like the luckiest little girl in the world. 4 The following Monday, as per routine, Riley went to school and came home. The day had given her quite a few surprises: a surprise history test, a math quiz, and pair work in art class. She had done the test and the quiz to the best of her knowledge, all thanks to her method of study that allowed her to defend herself well even in the most reluctant questions. Surely the test went well, she told herself. The art hour, however, put her to the test. She had never had much inclination for artistic and creative subjects-except for writing where she felt she had mastered the real thing-too abstract and poorly understood. Had it not been for Theo to guide her, the blank canvas would have become her definitive work that would have enshrined her in the long line of bad artists. Theo. It was rare that a classmate of hers intruded into her endless stream of thought. It seemed to her that she was discovering his existence for the first time. Like her, he was shy, solitary and unreachable. Those thoughts made her lose her appetite, so she went to her room to put on some more comfortable clothes to stay in, including putting on a pull-up. She grabbed her backpack and immediately set out to do her homework; she planned to spend the afternoon doing whatever she wanted. With the last science exercise completed, the little girl stood up and stretched. The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that she had skipped lunch, she looked at the clock: it was two o'clock in the afternoon. She had better eat something. She put a piece of frozen pizza in the microwave oven, set the temperature and time - 10 minutes - and pressed the "START" button. She waited sitting at the table. The ringing of the phone made its way through all the rooms,m until it reached the kitchen. Riley sprinted to the living room where the phone was located, picked up the handset and in a nervous voice said, "Hello?" "Hey, Riley, it's Theo," said the voice with a bit of insecurity. "Am I disturbing you?" "Hey, Theo," she greeted him, then answered happily, "no bother. Tell me everything." "I just wanted to ask you how you found yourself working with me today," he said cautiously. "I saw you ... angry, I wanted to know how you were." Riley bit his lower lip, and without his noticing a drop of pee ended up in her diaper. Theo was telling the truth, during that hour of class she felt like a complete wimp, a no-good. At one point, just before the end of class, she roared all her frustration at him. She sighed thinking back to those thirteen seconds that seemed interminable, then answered him in a sincere voice, "I'm fine. I've calmed down and..." She paused to sigh again. "I'm sorry I acted that way. It usually doesn't happen to me to-" "Of not being able to do something right?" the companion on the other side added promptly. "I know how that feels." Riley smiled, wondering if Theo could have seen it. No, he couldn't have seen her; who knows where he lives!" she told herself. "So, do you forgive me?" "Even if you didn't apologize to me, I'd still forgive you," Theo said casually. "Would you like to come over and finish the task?" She missed a beat. Had she heard correctly? A classmate of hers asking her to come over? Yes, she had understood correctly. She would have wanted to say yes immediately, but what if Mom and Dad had said no? Riley answered uncertainly, "I have to talk to my parents about it first. If I'm not mistaken, your parents should have their numbers? At least they should have my mom's." Theo muttered something (or so it seemed to Riley). "Yes, my mom told me she has both, but she prefers you to talk to them directly." Riley brought her hand to his temple in disbelief. Of course she was going to talk to them directly about it! He replied, "When they come back I will talk to them about it. Let's stay that way for now." "Alright, I'll talk to you later or possibly tomorrow," he concluded, then said goodbye to her, "Have a great rest of your day. Bye Riley!" "You too, Theo! Bye!" and hung up. At that exact moment, the squeaky, annoying sound of the oven alerted her that her snack was ready. She jumped off the couch, but something stopped her on the spot. What the... The little girl touched the front of her pull-up. It was hot and the front symbol was slightly faded, but it wouldn't be long before it disappeared completely. "I better go pee before I get it all over me," she confuted to herself aloud, as if there was another person with her, and went to the bathroom. * The pizza tasted like cardboard. The tomato and cheese had lost their distinctive flavors; the dough was the only decent thing that managed to convince her to go all the way through it, every last bite. The cold pull-up began to bother her, especially between her legs. Rule one was pretty clear. If you want to wear a diaper, just tell us and we'll put it on. This implies that only Daddy and I will be able to change you and, most importantly, check it if you had an "accident." When she put on the pull-up, Riley had not heeded to the rules they had imposed on her that Saturday morning. She couldn't wait for Mommy (or Daddy) to come home and clean her up and put a clean diaper on her. They would come to know that she had transgressed one of the rules. She made up her mind: she would tell the truth. She thought back to what had happened that night. She brought her legs against his chest and hugged them, their puzzled faces still well in her mind. At that moment she made a promise to herself: No more secrets and no more lies to Mom and Dad. To chase those thoughts away, she went up to the second floor, went to her room to get a book and headed for the bathroom to pee. * Riley was engrossed in reading that she paid no attention to her mother entering the house. In fact, it was her appearance in the kitchen that brought her back to reality. The little girl began to break into a cold sweat. "I didn't know you were reading," Helen exclaimed in surprise. "Did you do all your homework?" Riley nodded a nervous smile. She was not good at masking her emotions, and Helen immediately sensed that something was wrong. She asked her, "Honey, is something wrong?" Riley suddenly got up from her chair with still that smile that Helen found annoying. She hastily replied, "Yes, yes, yes, Mom! Everything is fine! I'm just glad you're back!" Helen gave her a guarded look. "Why are you acting like this? It's not like you." True, Riley couldn't blame her; she couldn't explain that strange behavior. She gave a tense giggle, then calmed herself by taking three deep breaths. There, she was about to tell her, "Mom, do you remember the rules you gave me for diapers?" Her mother nodded and crossed her arms. He looked her straight in the eye, from her face she was not at all pleased. She asked in a haughty tone, "Are you wearing one now and need to be changed?" "I'm wearing a pull-up," the sorry little girl hastened to say. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." Helen looked up at the ceiling. "I should have expected you to wear one in our absence. By the way, again!" Riley looked down guiltily, turning her toes back over each other. Helen continued brooding, but on the verge of scolding her. "I appreciate you telling me, Riley. However, your father and I gave you rules for a reason. These aren't toys; they can harm your health if misused. Being in one of those things for a long time could give you a skin rash. Do you understand?" She turned her gaze to her and nodded. "Now we're going to go up and give you a good cleaning," he told her. "Until I talk it over with your father, you're going to wear big girl panties. Diapers and pull-ups are off-limits!" "All right," Riley said, and her mother escorted her to the bathroom. * "Today I got a call from Theo, a classmate of mine," Riley began as her mother removed her dirty pull-up. "We have an art assignment we have to finish. He asked if I would be free to go to his house tomorrow. Do I have your permission to go?" Helen rubbed her nether regions well and then replied, "We'll talk about it tonight over dinner with your father, okay?" "Okay," replied Riley meekly and let her mother finish cleaning her. "No diaper? Not even for the night?" Helen shot her the look. Riley sighed in disappointment. "Understood." "Would you tell me what you understood?" her mother questioned her in a stern voice. "I understood that not following the rules has consequences." "So?" "You will not put me in a diaper now or before going to bed." "What will you do before you go to bed?" "I will go to the bathroom and pee like a big girl." "I guess you've learned your lesson, at least for now," Helen concluded contentedly. 5 Riley remained silent for most of dinner. The talk she had with her mother in the bathroom monopolized her thoughts; she began to think that they would confiscate her diapers and throw them into oblivion. He found rule one unfair, why could only her mother and father get their hands on her diaper, despite the fact that she had managed to put on a diaper by herself without anyone's help? Adults are weird!" she thought. "You're quiet today," her father began curiously, "did something happen?" Riley looked up from her empty plate and looked at her mother. With her gaze, she was telling her to tell her father what she had done. "Yes, something happened," the little girl replied indifferently. "In fact, two things happened." "Which one do you want to start with?" interjected Helen, feigning curiosity. "A classmate of mine called me today," Riley began a tad excitedly, "Theo Bennett. We have to finish our pair work for Professor Towers, he asked if I could go to his house tomorrow to finish the project and do homework together." "I don't see why not," Greg drank a glass of wine. Then he turned to his consort, "Did you say yes too?" Helen smiled at him. "Yes. Her friend lives nearby and His parents are willing to have her as a guest for lunch. So of problems we don't have any, is it okay for you to pick her up in the evening? That way I have time to take care of some chores around the house." Greg nodded and smiled at his daughter. He commented happily, "I didn't think you had a friend!" "Yeah," Riley laughed nervously. He didn't really consider Theo a friend; he was more of an acquaintance, almost a stranger. Who knows why his father had already labeled him as his friend? "What about the other thing?" asked Greg then casually. Riley's face darkened for a moment; she felt the conversation would take a turn for the worse. She sensed her mother's stern look. Okay Riley, you can do it. It's like an interrogation: beginning, explanation, conclusion. "Here..." the little girl spoke softly. "Today I... wore a pull-up on the sly." A contented smile took shape on Helen's face, glad to hear Riley admit her mistake and direct it to her better half. Greg sighed dejectedly. "So, you're telling us you wore a diaper in our absence?" "Pull-up, Greg," Helen corrected him. Greg quickly repeated his question, but corrected. "Yes, Daddy," Riley replied sadly. "That's the first thing I did when I came home. Then Mom came and I told her everything. I'm sorry." "Did you pee there?" asked her father tensely. Helen intervened, "From what I understood, yes and no. She had peed some before I came back, then she peed again just before I changed her and cleaned her up. So, she did it twice." Riley blushed full of embarrassment. Was that a detail to point out? "Is she wearing another one now?" asked Greg to his wife, forgetting his daughter's presence. "Big girl's panties," Helen replied. "I have a punishment in mind to give her for transgressing the rule." "Shall we talk about it now? In front of her?" "No," Helen replied, remembering that Riley was there with them. "There's something I'd like to point out to both of you." She paused. As long as she had all eyes on her, Helen continued with her speech, "This is especially about you, Riley. Today while I was changing you, I noticed that you hadn't given yourself a good scrubbing down there. Tell me out of curiosity, did you go to the bathroom once today?" "Yes, I went," replied Riley downcast. "After I noticed that I had slightly wet my pull-up." "You gave yourself a scrub, didn't you?" Her mother asked. Riley shook her head. "You know that after you pee you have to clean yourself up down there," her mother scolded her. "That's why I've decided that every time you come out of the bathroom, you have to come to me so I can take a look at you. We'll start tonight." Riley did not protest. Her mother was right; she could do nothing but humor her. "All right." A brief silence followed, and both Greg and Helen got up with their dishes in hand to go put them back in the dishwasher. Riley sat there in her seat, her fear of no more diapers making her eyes glaze over. "Will you take them away from me forever?" asked Riley fearfully. Both her parents approached her. "No," her mother consoled her. "We don't want to take away your diapers, if you want to take them, we won't object. We are doing this to teach you, to teach you to be more responsible." Riley pulled up her nose. "Why can't I wear them by myself?" "Because we want to take care of you," her mother promptly replied. "As well as making sure you get cleaned properly." "Thank you," said Riley and hugged her mother, then hugged her father as well. "We are here, honey," her father told her, then her daughter broke the hug. Riley took her plate and put it in the dishwasher, next to her parents' plates. She helped them clear the table and then they went to the living room to watch a movie. * "Am I disturbing you?" asked Helen in a low voice. She was in the doorway to her bedroom. "No, tell me," replied Riley and closed the book he was reading. "Come in." "I've come to take you to the bathroom," she announced, holding out her hand to her daughter. "Even if you don't run away, I want to make sure you go to the bathroom before you go to sleep." Riley grasped her hand and let herself be carried away. She did not find this new custom fair; she was a big girl, not a little girl. "Mom! I'm 11, I know when I have to go to the bathroom!" whined Riley. "I know," laughed her mother. "But sometimes, moms want to make sure their kids go to the bathroom before they go to sleep." Entering the bathroom, without letting go, Helen positioned Riley in front of the toilet. The little girl felt uncomfortable; her mother's presence put her under great stress. She wanted to tell her, but nothing would change her mind about going out and giving her a moment of privacy. Her mother knelt down and proceeded to gently lower her pants, Riley could not help but blush. After that, she told her softly, "What are you waiting for? Sit down and try it." The little girl obeyed resignedly, as well as red in the face like a tomato. The toilet was cold, but her mother's reassuring gaze caught her attention. She smiled at her and let go. "All done?" she asked her as soon as the tapping turned to silence and the little girl nodded confidently. "Good, now on your feet." Riley stood up, then her mother tore off three pieces of toilet paper. With gentle forward motions she cleaned it under there. She repeated those gestures five times, subsequently flushing the paper down the toilet. Riley recognized the pattern; she used to do this when she was younger. Same care and gentleness, she seemed to have gone back in time. "That's how you should wipe," she concluded in a calm, teacher's voice. "Always forward, never backwards. Minimum five times, if you want to be sure give it three more passes. All clear?" "All clear," she answered truthfully, lifting her underpants and underwear in one go. "Thank you, Mommy." "You're welcome. I'm going to bed," announced her mother as she returned to her feet. "Flush and brush your teeth. Oh, before I forget, tomorrow when you come back, I'll take a look at you. Good night, honey." "Good night, Mommy," he told her before squeezing the flush lever. * "What did you have in mind?" asked Greg already under the covers. "I don't know yet," replied Helen doubtfully. "We could use diapers as a reward when she behaves." "Helen," he spoke exasperatedly, "she is a good girl. She studies and behaves well." "A good girl sneaks a pack of diapers, puts one on and pees in front of her parents?" pointed out Helen annoyed. "She didn't even follow the rules we gave her on Saturday!" "I don't understand why you have to punish her." "Greg, she sneaked a diaper!" reminded Helen, her voice frustrated. "When did we put her in a diaper?" began Greg meditatively. "Monday through Friday, only in the evening and at night. Saturday and Sunday she could wear it all day. You know what I mean?" Helen furrowed her brow. "No." "Riley doesn't enjoy them enough. Only two days. No wonder she wants to sneak them on," Greg enlightened her. "And you want to punish her even though she told you the truth." "We can't help it, our jobs keep us away from her," Helen replied. "She won't bring them this weekend, that's decided." "Then you don't understand," blurted Greg. "When she brings it, she's happy. Even with the pull-ups, she's happy. Isn't that clear to you?" "It's quite clear to me," Helen replied curtly. "I want to teach her that choices have consequences. When we had caught her with that dirty diaper, we did nothing. "I don't want Riley to get into this bad habit of doing what she wants on the sly." Greg got up and went to sit beside his wife and kissed her left cheek. "She would never do that," he said in a sultry voice. "You know the thing she hates most is to hurt us. That's why she told you the truth today." A tear streaked down her face. "Do you think she'll take it badly if I tell her she can't wear diapers this weekend?" "Will she take it badly? Yes, definitely." "It's decided, this is her punishment." "You know I'm against it right?" "Yes, but you'll have to humor me this time," Helen concluded and began to snog him. 6 Theo no longer had the strength to hold his head up to pay attention to the lesson of Mrs. Daniels, the literature teacher. He had the crazy idea of resting his head on his desk, his nose and forehead attached closely to the notebook paper. He did not care if the middle-aged woman saw him and scolded him. Riley, unlike her desk mate, could keep up with her lengthy explanations. Eyes following her every movement and her right hand writing on the notepad every word that came from her thick lips. Mrs. Daniels walked over to the blackboard and began to draw a diagram that looked like an upside-down tree. At the top and middle she wrote "How to write a horror story" and drew three arrows far apart. "How do you keep from falling asleep?" asked Theo in a low voice at one point. "I stay awake and listen," she answered quietly. Theo changed position. He stretched out his arms on the bench and rested his chin on the bench. She said in a half-asleep voice, "I can't wait for it to be over." She wanted it too, damn right she did! Riley felt she was at the end of her rope. Listening and writing at the same time took a large chunk of her energy, which, after four hours of class, she had none left. To avoid falling behind, the 11-year-old began writing as fast as she could; readability would suffer greatly. Half an hour later, the last bell of the day rang. Mrs. Daniels said she would explain the third arrow the next day, but the buzz of her students' voices prevented her words from reaching their ears. Getting angry was useless now. She grabbed her smartphone and took a picture of the blackboard, then began to put all her things in her backpack. For her, too, the day had turned to an end. "Mrs. Daniels?" a female voice called to her that she recognized. "Yes, Riley?" "You dropped this," she said and handed her dirty, weather-worn blue case. "I thought something was missing," she exclaimed in surprise as she grabbed the object. Most likely it had fallen from the desk during the general marasmus. She thanked her in a kind voice, then asked, "Do you have any doubts about today's class?" "Um..." she hinted uncertainly as she flipped through her notepad. "I actually would have one." Mrs. Daniels looked at her watch. It was 1:20 in the afternoon. She had to go to lunch with her colleagues and was, punctually, late. "You will bring it to me tomorrow, I really have to run now. Study mind you," she told her mortified and hurried out. "Of course she has to run," the little girl commented irritably and set off to join her friend downstairs. * "So," Theo began thoughtfully, "what do you think about . um... geography?" Riley thought about it before giving her answer. She loved geography. Finding out the customs, the lifestyle of the inhabitants, the strengths of the economy, and the brief history of a state in the world excited her so much. Unfortunately, this subject fell into the "I hate this subject because of the teacher" group. "Nice for goodness sake," replied Riley holding back an edge of anger, "but Mr. Johnson is making me hate it." "Then it's a common thought," Theo said, then asked her another question. "Let's get off the subject of school shall we? What do you do in your spare time?" I sneak around and use diapers! Ha ha ha! If I answered him like that, he would think I was crazy. Ha ha ha ha! Riley held back a laugh at that thought, although there was nothing funny about it. Theo looked at her puzzled. "Never mind," Riley hastened to say, "I read and write. Do you?" "I read too!" gave a toothy grin Theo, nearly baring her way. "What kind of books do you read?" Riley hinted with a smile. If she had had a diaper on, she would have peed from excitement. But at that moment she didn't have one, so she had to restrain herself as any big girl would. She cleared her throat, then answered him, "I mainly read fantasy books, occasionally I read normal books." "Normal books?" "Books that are not in the fantasy or science fiction genre," she explained to him. "Mom is convinced that I like them a lot, so she gets them for me." "For example?" asked Theo curiously. He seemed to know the genres in question. "The last ones she got me are about friendship, simple and mundane and without any elements that manage to stand out from other books dealing with the same topics," Riley accentuated her feeling of annoyance toward the end. "Sometimes I wonder why my mother gets me such books, even though I don't like them." "Do you remember the names by any chance?" asked Theo without losing interest. "I ask because I only read those kinds of books." "Books about friendship?" "No, children's fiction books," Theo pointed out. "The fantasy genre doesn't appeal to me much." "Oh," said Riley slightly disappointed. "Anyway, the names of those books are When We Were Together and Ashes. I could have done without reading them." Theo retorted offended, "You can't say Ashes sucks! It's the only one that manages to touch chords that other books in the same genre can't!" "For example?" questioned Riley in a defiant tone. "The whole story revolves around the so-called 'invisible string theory,' " Theo began to explain, "according to which a person is nothing more than the center of an infinite set of strings that connect him to other centers-which are other people. I point out right away that this does not exist in reality, but still, the protagonist - Paul - becomes the epicenter of the pain of every single character he interacts with. "This is where the main themes of the story surface: the desire to connect to others and the outside hand that helps those who are suffering. Paul is a loner, whether he likes it or not he needs to be around people, so he joins the group of losers ignored by everyone and constantly targeted by bullies. "As he spends his time with them he realizes that he too has his own limitations and difficulties to overcome. So he decides to help them overcome their fears and difficulties, they also do the same for him. When Richard and Izzy die in the car accident, Paul begins to wonder if all this connecting with each other is really worth it, so he becomes the spark that destroys all the strings that bind to him. "Needless to say, this is his reaction to their death and that talking to someone about it kept him from destroying the last, most important bonds he still had: his new friends and his family. The ending in which he and his friends throw their ashes at the lake where they first met is the symbol-and the title-of the play." Riley stood in silence surprised to have heard an explanation that only she could have brought up if she had discussed it with another person who was not interested in books. Theo was a reader like her; his attention to detail was identical to hers. It was true!" she told herself. It had not happened in her head! It had happened for real! "Wow!" was the only thing she managed to say. Then Theo stopped in front of an empty driveway that led to a two-story white house. "Here we are. This is my house, welcome!" In that instant, Riley realized that she had removed from her mind the fact that she and Theo were walking to his house. Their conversations had overridden their perceptions of reality, at least hers since Theo was in charge of taking her to his house. They had passed by her house and she had not even noticed! She felt lost for a moment. Mom was right, he lived not very far from her house and the other dwellings were very reminiscent of hers. Getting lost was impossible; she would find her way back in no time. The kids approached the front door. Theo rang the doorbell and saw Riley looking around, but it did not take her long to realize that it was the same porch she had at home. They were greeted by her father, Hank Bennett. An all-American man, broad-shouldered and fully fit, he wore a tank top and long pants. Both the 11-year-olds were speechless to see him in such attire in the middle of winter. "Hey, guys!" Hank greeted them, then turned to the little guest. "You must be Riley, very nice to meet you!" "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Bennet," replied the little girl politely, then proceeded to remove her jacket. "Call me Hank," the man quickly put in an amused manner. "I may be an adult, but I'm not that adult, you know? I still feel like a 20-year-old kid!" Both Theo and Riley burst into thunderous laughter. "Take off your shoes and go wash your hands, lunch is ready," announced Hank and then hurriedly headed for the kitchen. In the bathroom, Riley was the first to wash her hands. Theo suggested that she go first because he had been told that, and I quote, males must know how to behave well with females, as they are the fairer sex, so they had to go first. Hearing this, Riley had to hold back laughter. "Really?" was his response. Theo replied gallantly, "Yes, milady. You ladies are viewed differently than we gentlemen. Therefore, we ask you not to express criticism of our manner." This time she could not hold them back and burst out laughing for the second time; he had been in her house for just over ten minutes and was already fighting not to pee her pants from the laughs. 7 Mr. Bennett had cooked excellent steaks: flavorful, slightly spicy and cooked to the right temperature. Riley filled and cleaned her plate three times; as luck would have it, he had cooked about ten small and medium-sized steaks. Theo was the one who ate the least out of all of them; he justified himself by saying that he did not have much of an appetite. Lunch finished, the two friends helped Mr. Bennet clear the table, after which he left them on his way to his office. Theo explained to Riley that his father worked from home on certain days of the week, and today was one of those days. It would have been nice if her parents had that chance too, the little girl thought to herself. Three o'clock in the afternoon. The two eleven-year-olds were already at work on their couple's project in the kitchen, the only space in the house large enough for them to work on. The week before, Mrs. Towers assigned their class a job to do in pairs: draw a city where the real stars were the buildings. No streets, just buildings and the sky. She would grade all the work and give both components the same grade. She left the barbaric task of creating the pairs to the students, who, in addition to generating chaos, formed balanced pairs. Riley and Theo balanced each other well. She, an excellent art history student and bad artist, and he, a good art history student and very talented artist. Theo came up with a definite idea of how to make the city, the object on which their delivery was based. Four skyscrapers arranged in the shape of a trapezoid, the two forming the minor base in the foreground and the other two - making up the major base - following and well away from the sides of the sheet; surrounded by other buildings with windows colored in colors other than yellow, intended to color all the windows in the trapezoid. Riley, art denier that she was, approved of the idea, but on the condition that they make an informed choice of colors. And there they were, passing the colors around and coloring the multitudes of white squares that remained. Yellow windows (the first ones the duo colored), reds, oranges, pinks, greens, blues, magentas, purples and many other colors caught the attention of anyone who looked at them. The sky was still white with gray insignia of the Moon and the clouds passing in the midst of those black towers, they told themselves that would be the last part they would color. They had set a list for themselves: draw the buildings and skyscrapers with windows; color the windows; draw the clouds; and finally, color them together with the sky. Compared to the time in the classroom, Riley was more relaxed and more confident in coloring the white spaces. Moreover, the silence that enveloped the kitchen room kept her glued to her task. From time to time, she cast glances at her friend to make sure he was doing his part. It wasn't necessary; Theo was devoting his heart and soul to coloring buildings and windows and, every few seconds, supervising their work. It's definitely coming along nicely. Theo and I are not a bad team after all. An hour later, Theo put down the purple marker and gave a tired sigh. Then he asked his friend, "How many windows do we have left?" Riley finished coloring the last window with red and announced it contentedly in a very high tone of voice, after realizing this she apologized. Theo raised his arms to the ceiling in victory. Exhausted, he said, "We are almost at the end." At that point, Riley got up from her seat. "Where's the bathroom, Theo?" "Up, turn left and first door to the left," he answered her in the same voice. "While you go to the bathroom, I'm going to stop and recover too. I'm beat!" Riley walked out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. He went up to the second floor and turned to the left, as Theo had told him moments earlier, and looked for the bathroom door with his eyes. There it was! It was a plain white door; she lowered the handle and stepped inside. The bathroom furniture was all light blue, like the diaper packaging she had at home, while the walls were a strange white. He observed it closely; it was a white with light blue undertones. So the dominant color of the bathroom was light blue, she told herself and walked to the toilet that was at the end of the room. In front of the toilet, a dark sky-blue dresser stood toward the ceiling, it looked as if it might touch it, but the thin deep black space gave the 11-year-old confirmation that the cabinet was not in contact with the ceiling. Beautiful, she thought as he squared it from top to bottom. She counted six in total. She looked at it again for the second time. The last drawer was open, inside it a package of diapers was illuminated by the light coming from the window. She recognized them; they were Pampers Baby-Dry overnight diapers. Overnight diapers -- wait a minute, does Theo pee in bed? Riley ignored that question and ignored the contents of that drawer. She pulled down her pants and... gasped in disbelief. Her panties were slightly wet, the smell of pee plugged her nose. Oh, come on! Wasting no more time, she pulled them down and sat on the toilet. Theo's diapers and her panties' smell became her fixed thoughts for that minute sitting to relieve herself. It couldn't be true. * In forty minutes, the work was finished and all imperfections removed. Riley and Theo were satisfied, especially him since it had been his idea. "What grade do you think we'll get?" asked Theo of her. "I don't know... maybe an A," Riley replied slightly nervously. "I doubt we'll get a bad grade!" Theo smiled at her, then took the drawing and put it inside the clear envelope he had brought it home with the week before, then put it inside his backpack, being careful not to crumple it. After that, he told her happily, "Mrs. Towers will be impressed with our work." "Mmh-mmh," Riley quipped casually, thinking about the wet underwear against her skin. Mom would surely take her back. "Would you like to see my room?" proposed Theo to her. "I'd like to show you my bookcase." "All right," Riley answered him, smiling. She felt the need to distract herself from everything and turn off her brain. On the stairs, Theo said, "I'm going to the bathroom and then I'll join you. My room is the third door on the right." Suddenly, Riley stopped on the last step terrified. Now? Right now you have to go to the bathroom, Theo? Then in the same bathroom where your diapers are in full view? Oh... maybe I'd better tell him. "Wait a moment, Theo," she hesitated in a serious tone. "There's something I have to tell you." "Can't you wait a few minutes?" the friend implored her. "I'll come in and out." No, I can't wait! In fact, I don't want to wait! "Theo, I saw them!" admitted Riley apologetically. "I went in and saw the open drawer." Theo's face darkened. Riley recognized that expression, even that state of mind. She felt guilty, the same guilt she had when her parents caught her with a diaper on. "So... now you know about my little secret." Riley nodded. "I won't tell anyone, I promise." "I know you won't," Theo told her like it was nothing, then smiled. Silence. "I know you have a lot of questions for me, but I'm going to go to the bathroom first and then we'll talk about it," Theo said as he headed for the bathroom in small steps. Before taking his leave, he reminded her, "Third door on the right!" * Boring. Boring. Super boring! Boring. My goodness, pure boredom! Boring. Riley was standing in front of Theo's bookcase in her room. She was studying the various books he had and, reluctantly, could not find one that would pique her interest. She began to wonder if Theo took those stories seriously. From the titles alone, which were trite and not at all profound - except for "Ashes," which reevaluated her - she could already imagine the other stories. "Gee, Theo," she said boredly. "Besides Ashes, you don't have any exciting books." "I expected this answer from you," he said as he entered his room. Riley jumped in fear. Had she spoken too loudly again? After that, she sat on her bed and watched Theo take two random books from the bookshelf. There was something about him that did not convince her, her eyes studied his butt. Why is his butt so... big? The friend made a leap to grab a book, failed. So he made another, this time succeeding. Twice, his ears picked up rough sounds reminiscent of typical paper noises. At that point, Riley understood: Theo was wearing the night diaper he had seen in the bathroom. What had he put it on for? "Here," Theo told her, handing her two of his books. Ashes and When We Were Together, the two books they had talked about before entering the house. He added hopefully, "Reread them and then tell me what you think." Riley raised her right eyebrow, not understanding this last sentence. "If you want to try to change my mind, you're way off base. Besides, I already have these two at home." Theo resumed them mortified. "I had forgotten we talked about them, but read them again anyway." "Why?" Theo put them on his desk. "Your idea can change you know?" The friend wasted no time in thinking it over. So, she replied doubtfully, "Okay." After that, Theo sat beside Riley on the bed, keeping his distance to respect her "boundaries." He had never stopped smiling. "Whatever questions you have in mind, ask me," his friend prodded her. "Why are you wearing a diaper?" Embarrassed Theo looked down, but pretended not to. How had she guessed he was wearing one? He replied surprised, "I wanted to put it on." "But aren't you supposed to put it on before you go to bed?" "Yes, but sometimes I put it on long before I go to bed," Theo explained, scratching the back of his head. "My parents let me, but as long as I take it off, do what I have to do, and then put it back on. They check on me a lot to make sure I'm following the rules." Riley nodded. Like at home, her parents had given her rules, albeit different ones, and they wanted to make sure she stayed safe. But to Theo, diapers were like regular underwear-that was the subtle difference that made them different. She would have liked to tell him that she wore diapers too, but after what happened recently and her promise, she let that desire disappear from her mind. "Every once in a while... you think you want to... try to... you know," Riley stammered, but she did not understand why. Theo answered naturally; he was just at ease. "Yes, every now and then. Then it comes back to me that I do it in my sleep and the urge goes away. Also because my mom shudders when she has to take it off me. She hates to get her hands on something messy like my diaper after a good night's sleep." "I understand," replied Riley sadly. "It can't be easy for any of you." "Mom and Dad keep trying new methods to get me to stop," Theo admitted bitterly, as if it were an impossible problem to solve. "As I told you, it's my mother who puts it on and takes it off. Occasionally my father does it, but he is not good at cleaning down there. Even though he is a male like me, sometimes it hurts me. That's why I prefer my mother." Riley wanted to tell him, she didn't want to make him feel lonely. That's what she had sensed in his voice. Also mixed in were innocence and regret for being that way. No one has to know, Riley. Just me, Mom and Dad! The three of us! Silence. Riley couldn't resist a minute longer. "Theo, I have a secret too," she began cautiously and truthfully. "I wear diapers, too." "Bedwetting is a common thing among us eight-to-thirteen-year-olds," Theo revealed for the purpose of curiosity. "You don't understand, I wear them all the time," Riley sputtered. "Or rather, only on weekends do I wear them. Morning, afternoon, evening and night. I don't have any medical problems, I just like them. I like their drawings, I like peeing on them and feeling them all around me. And, most of all, the attention my parents give me in taking care of me." Theo remained silent, having no idea what to say. He wanted her to be happy, she wanted him to be happy too, so he hugged her tightly. "Your secret is safe with me, Riley," he told her in a low voice. Riley was speechless, the hug and his words warmed her heart. She was not dreaming, the warmth of her friend made her feel good, safe. She told him in a soft voice, "Yours is with me too, forever." 8 The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Riley and Theo managed to do all the homework they had and spent the last half hour up in his room talking about the thing that had led them to become best friends: diapers. They stretched out on the floor, wanting to play out a scene from a book they had read where two characters - a boy and a girl - were talking about their problems lying on the floor next to each other. To feel more comfortable, Theo slipped off his pants let the world admire his Pampers Baby-Dry for the night. There was no shortage of shenanigans from his friend where she urged him to wet himself to which he laughed while maintaining full control of his bladder. "Mom picked me up on her shoulder," Riley recounted gesturing toward the ceiling, "we moved to the hall and she laid me down there like I was a baby. Then she tried to take my diaper off, stopped when I told her I had more in my room." "What did she do then?" asked Theo, brushing his diaper. "She went to the garage to talk to my father. They came back together and changed it for me," she replied. "I couldn't believe it: mom and dad changing my diaper at age 11! The next day we discussed this, they set rules for me; I went to the supermarket with my mother and she bought me pull-ups for children who have to learn to use the toilet. They may be small, but boy are they very stretchy!" Theo listened fascinated, at one point asking, "How are the pull-ups?" Riley giggled happily. "Beautiful, it's like you're wearing underwear and a diaper at the same time!" Their conversation went on until six o'clock, the time when Greg, Riley's father, came to pick her up. She said goodbye to her friend and her father, then they walked to the car. When she returned, her mother Helen accompanied her to the bathroom to give her the pre-announced checkup. She pulled down her pants and looked down at her daughter's smelly and still wet panties. "What happened?" he questioned her. Riley explained everything to her, in full detail, the moment she discovered her friend's night diapers and also about the two drops of pee that fell into both her underwear. She blushed with shame. "Next time, sit and watch, don't stand and pee your pants," she admonished her, removing her soiled underwear, then helped her clean herself. At dinner, Riley monopolized the conversation. It was one of the few times the little girl talked so much she almost forgot about the plate of spaghetti on her plate. Her parents listened without ever interrupting her, surprised to find that her best friend - so their little daughter had twice declared - was peeing the bed. Having finished the meal and cleared the table, everyone went to their respective rooms, or almost since Helen forced Riley to follow her to the bathroom for the second time all day. The 11-year-old repeated the same instructions her mother had given her the day before with some uncertainty, did a fair amount of work that her mother completed. After that she gave her the report, "You need to pay more attention, Riley! You cleaned yourself up like you were late for something!" The little girl nodded and yawned; she couldn't take it anymore already. She brushed her teeth and went to her room, she definitely wanted to end this heavy day with a good night's sleep. She threw herself on her bed, at that moment someone knocked. "Come in!" It was her mother, she wanted to talk. He crossed the door and went to sit on one side of his bed. She admitted in a feeble voice, "I need to tell you something." "What is it, Mom?" asked the little girl as she sat down. "Your father and I have discussed it and decided on your punishment: for the rest of the week, you will not wear diapers. Starting next Monday, you can wear them, provided-" "As long as you or Dad are there to put them on me," Riley concluded in a saccharine voice, the tone her mother hated most of all. "I know Mom, I've learned my lesson." Helen did not get angry at her tone of voice; she preferred to let it go and go to bed. Like her daughter, she too wanted to sleep. She wished her a good night and headed to her room. * The diaper-free weekend arrived and passed in a second. Riley spent those forty-eight hours with her parents tidying up the house, that is, tidying up the attic. None of them would have expected that tidying it up would take two days, evenings included. It was Helen who had suggested this activity; staying still, lazing on the couch in the living room waiting to do something stimulating was bringing her a nervous breakdown. Greg, too, was trying not to sit idle; he took to reading a computer book in the kitchen, next to Riley who was studying the ticking of the clock in a bored manner. The third floor had been labeled "the oblivion," the place where everything that had ceased to have a definite use ends up. It was his parents who had given him that name, following an argument they had had that ended in a rather ambiguous way: suddenly, they forgot what they were arguing about. The entire room was chock-full of furniture and boxes with no writing to identify their contents. "Why did they have all that furniture?" wondered Riley, knowing that that question would not pull her away from that barbaric task. They set a goal for themselves: take everything downstairs. Helen and Greg would take care of the furniture, while Riley would take care of the boxes. All three lost track of time; they had started at 1 p.m. and stopped at 9 p.m. Her parents sprawled on the couch, surrounded by the twelve pieces of furniture they brought down several hours earlier. Riley took advantage of this and poked around the partially empty room, opened certain boxes and found old clothes and thirty-year-old china sets. What a bore! She passed between two tall pieces of furniture, perhaps two closets, and came across a long chest of drawers. Six rectangular-shaped drawers divided into two columns, it looked familiar. Then she realized what it was: it was the piece of furniture her parents used as a base for her changing table when she was an infant. I want this one in my room! I'm rehiring you indefinitely! The next morning, Riley proposed to her parents, who were zombies trying to return to the world of the living, but with little result. "Would you like to what?" her mother asked, yawning. "I found the old cabinet you used to use as a changing table," said the excited little girl. "It's big enough for me to lay on it, so changing me would no longer be an endless search." "Why ... are we taking so long to change you?" asked Greg, then took a sip of water. Riley gave him an obvious look. "Dad, do I need to remind you that for you lost my diapers by leaving me lying on the bed with everything in view?" She blushed on that last part. Greg yawned, but preferred not to answer. "Having a dedicated diaper corner would be nice," Helen intervened. "I already have the arrangement in mind for everything." Greg blinked three times. "So, should we move that to your room?" His tone was puzzled. "Yes," the little girl answered decisively, then put her hands together. "Please?" Greg sighed conflictedly, then smiled at his daughter. Through it all, Helen could not help but laugh. * In the early afternoon, a truck parked in front of their house. They were the workers from the secondhand furniture store to which Greg sold three cabinets and six drawers. Ten minutes of phone calls, emails with pictures of each piece of furniture attached, and a thousand dollars earned. He was the happiest person since his daughter. They loaded the furniture, nodded, to say goodbye and thank him for choosing their store, to Greg and left without giving a glance to either Helen or Riley who had been present every moment of their brief stay. "Rude," Riley said promptly, until she was sure they had left their field of vision. And Helen agreed with her with a complicit smile. Then she added, "You'll meet some rude ones too, always behave yourself and you won't end up like them." "Become rough, fat men?" the 11-year-old asked incredulously. "But I'm a girl!" Greg burst out laughing. "There are rough women, too, honey," Helen told her with amusement. They spent the better part of Sunday afternoon moving furniture and organizing Riley's room. The little girl had the opportunity to place the furniture as she wanted. Her parents enjoyed following the directions. The cabinet - changing table - they placed behind the door. The closet next door, the bed and the desk remained in place. With this thinking work completed, Greg went out to run an errand. Riley was happy; her room had become even more beautiful. The latest arrival (or return?) was looking good, two of the six drawers had already been filled. The first with diapers and pull-ups, the second with underwear, lotion and wipes. It was not yet complete, missing the mat that made it a proper changing table. At six o'clock in the afternoon, Greg returned with something that made Riley happy beyond measure: the mat! All three of them went to put it in its place, on which occasion Riley asked her parents to try it out. Her father took her on his shoulder and laid her down as if he was, for real, about to put a diaper on her. It fit perfectly, was comfortable, and she could almost take a nap in it. "It's perfect!" exclaimed Riley. Her father put her down and hugged him along with her mother. "Thanks, guys!"

Ivan watched as the girl walking in front of him on the sidewalk tripped over a crack or a rock or who knows what, and fell down, smacking her hands and knees against the cement. Ordinarily he wasn't one to just interact with strangers- him being so big and intimidating, it usually didn't work out well for anyone. This time, however, he paused. He leaned down, grabbed her hands, and helped her up to her feet. He glanced her up and down- she was a bit teary eyed, and bleeding just a bit from her knobby knees. "You should get a bandage." He said quietly. It was an attempt to show concern, but he rarely spoke with others these days, so it sounded awkward. He reached his hands out and wiped her eyes. "There's no need to cry, nothing looks broken." He glanced around at her things, noticing a school bag which had spilled out its contents on the floor. The girl looked a bit young, but she was still very obviously of college age, as she was walking by herself, and headed toward the block of dingy college apartments. He offered his hand and smiled. "Can I walk you home to make sure you don't take another tumble?"

Five-year-old Lila is jealous of her baby brother always getting all the attention. But Lila's life changes forever when she discovers a mysterious diaper that will grant her every wish. How much fun can Lila have with unlimited wishes at her disposal? Chapter 1: Lila's Diaper Wish Five-year-old Lila woke up to the sound of her younger brother wailing in the other room. If she were to guess, he probably needed another diaper change. “Camden!” her mother shouted from the hallway. “Don’t worry. Mommy’s coming!” Lila sighed when she heard her mother get up just to dote on little Camden. He does this every night. His diaper gets wet and she takes care of it just like that. Her mommy keeps telling her that she is the big sister now. Three months ago, this was not the case. “I used to be the baby…” she whispered. “Now my little brother has to ruin it. He gets everything! I wish that my mommy would pay more attention to me!” Lila pouted as she buried her face back in the covers of her My Little Pony bed. Minutes later, she could make out the sound of her mom from the hallway walking back into the room. She stopped at the bathroom, turned on the light, and then turned it off after a few seconds. In mere seconds, Lila was fast asleep. Lila woke up with a gasp. She clutched her hands over her pajamaed groin and lept out of bed. She swung the door open and rushed a short distance down the hallway and into the bathroom. She turned on the light and closed the door. She lifted the toilet lid up, pulled down her pink pajama bottoms and Elsa and Anna Frozen underwear and sat down. She could hear the refreshing tinkle as the mesmerizing sound filled the whole bathroom. The sound reverberated for about 20 seconds. She smiled. I made it! She gasped again, siting up in her bed. Her Frozen underwear and pajamas were soaked. She pulled back the bedsheets. A large and saturated wet patch covered the area of the entire mattress. Lila’s face reddened and her face filled with tears. She got out of bed and rushed across the hallway. She quietly open the door and whispered with tears in her eyes: “Mommy! I peed the bed!” The mother stirred, and caught glimpse of the small silhouette standing by the door that was open just a crack. She let out a quiet sigh. “Lila dear, you wet the bed again. This is the third time this week, honey.” Lila’s face, which was now beet red, flooded with tears. “But I didn’t mean to, mommy! I had the dream where I…” “You had that same dream again? The one where you get up and go to the bathroom?” Lila slowly nodded, as she wiped more tears out of her eyes. She was now letting out hiccup sobs. The mother gave Lila a soft pat on the neck. “Here. Let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed. We’ll get you a shower, some dry underwear, dry pajamas, and some dry bedding..” Lila’s tears vanished, her hiccup sobs becoming less frequent. They were now just hiccups. The mother led Lila into the bathroom and instructed her to take off all her wet clothes. “I’m going to change your bedding.” the mother told her. “I’ll be right back to give you a shower, okay sweetheart?” Lila nodded as she removed her soaked pajama top. The mother left the bathroom to take care of Lila’s soaked bedding. Lila took her soaked pajama bottoms and then sighed when she took off her soaked Frozen Elsa and Anna underwear. It was sad to see both Elsa and Anna all wet from her nocturnal accident. After removing her underwear and piling it with the other wet clothes, she looked down at her princess parts, which still had just a little pee dripping off of it. She then noticed the door open just a crack that went to the waste bin. There was a faint light coming from it. She opened the door to the trash bin and found an empty white sleeve draped over the edge of the waste bin. that she knew came from her brother’s diapers. Her mommy must’ve thrown it away when she was finished with it. Having seen her brother’s room, she knew that the white sleeve came from a large box of Huggies Little Snugglers. They were size 1’s, since her little brother was only 3 months old. But then she saw the light again. It was a bright flashing light that came from inside the white sleeve. She glanced inside and noticed that there was an object that was flashing at the bottom of the plastic sleeve, since the one side was open but was sealed on the other side. She felt down to the bottom and gasped. Mommy forgot to use this diaper on my little brother! She stuffed it back in the trash and closed the door to the waste bin underneath the sink. The mother came back and led Lila to the shower. She undressed herself and entered the shower with Lila. They both showered together and the mother made sure that Lila got all of her parts really good. After the shower, they both dried off and the mother gave Lila a fresh pair of Elsa and Anna Frozen underwear and a pair of yellow pajamas, since pink and yellow were Lila’s favorite colors. The mother led Lila back to her room and pointed to her bed, which now had some fresh bedding. A Disney Belle and Cinderella comforter sat on the top with matching pillows. She then hugged Lila and smiled. “Try not to have that dream again, dear.” She got Lila underneath the covers and tucked her in. “You’ll grow out of it soon. Mommy used to wet the bed when she was your age.” Lila gasped. “You WET the bed?” The mother nodded. “I was a little girl, just like you and I had that same kind of dream. I wet the bed until I was seven, then I stopped after that.” Lila whimpered. “So I’m going to wet the bed for two more years?” The mother shook her head. “We don’t know that, sweetheart. Every child grows out of this at a different age. Try to get some sleep now. Good night, Lila dear.” The mother and Lila both nuzzled their noses together and the mother kissed her on the cheek. She then pulled the covers up to Lila’s chin and turned to exit her room. She flipped off the light switch and closed the door. Lila waited a few minutes for her mother to go back to bed. When it was all quiet again, she gently got out of bed and tip-toed across the floor. She quietly turned the knob until the door was open just a crack. Just enough for her to squeeze out of her room. She continued tip-toeing down the hallway and back to the bathroom. When she opened the door, sure enough. She could see the light glimmering from the crack to the door that was underneath the sink. With the lights off in the bathroom, she could see the light even more. She opened the door and reached into the trash bin. She pulled out the white sleeve and looked inside. She reached down and pulled out the source of light. Sure enough, it was a Huggies Little Snugglers diaper. But something was unusual about this one. It was flashing brightly like a night light. Lila held the glowing diaper and closed the door to the sink. She quietly left the bathroom with the diaper and went back to her bedroom with it. Very quietly, she closed the door and laid the diaper in the middle of the floor in her room. She then sat on her bed and scratched her head, trying to think of what to do with that diaper. Should she use it for a night light? It was glowing pretty bright and Lila was secretly afraid of the dark. Too afraid to tell mommy. But as Lila looked at the diaper more and more, she wanted to hold it again. So, she got out of bed and picked up the glowing diaper again. It was a size 1, and the most unusual diaper that she has ever seen. She has seen her mother change Camden’s diaper before and none of them ever glowed like that. As she held the diaper, she could feel the power flowing through it. At this, her thoughts returned to where they were earlier in the night. When Camden first woke her up. “My little brother gets everything!” Lila pouted. “Why don’t I get everything? I used to, before my little brother was born. I wish I was the little sister, instead of my brother! Then I would get everything! Everything would be good again…” The glowing diaper flashed, and just like that, Lila gasped. She removed her pajamas and underwear and stretched out the diaper, following just as she remembered her mother doing it with Camden. She laid down over the diaper and stretched the front over her private area. She peeled back the two tapes in the back and stretched them both onto the landing zone. At this, she gasped. This magic diaper actually fits? Then it hit her. She is once again an infant. That’s when she realized that she couldn’t move her legs. She can move her arms when she was on her stomach. She then glanced at her bed and almost started to cry, when she still noticed the bright glow coming from her diaper. Lila sighed. “Oh, I wish I could be laying in my bed!” And just like that, her entire body flashed and vanished from where she was helplessly on the floor. She appeared laying on her tummy on her bed. Her bed flashed and railings popped up all around, converting into a crib. A blinding flash sent her into a deep sleep. A bright ray of sunlight woke Lila up. Her mother entered the room, with the biggest smile on her face. “Ahh!” The mother cooed. “Did little Lila have a good night sleep? Here. Mommy’s going to get you out of your crib. Lila gasped. Sure enough, she was still an infant. And she felt so wet. A big mess was in there too. At this, her little body couldn’t take it anymore. She started to cry. The mother nodded, as she lifted Lila out of her crib and held her in her arms. “Don’t worry,” she told her darling daughter. “Mommy’s going to change you.” She then smelled a foul odor wafting from Lila’s diaper. “Hoo dear! You made quite a stinky! Here. Let mommy change you.” Lila glanced at the glowing diaper that she was still wearing. If mommy is going to change me, then I wish that the next diaper that mommy changes me in is a magic diaper like this one! Lila flashed and then giggled, as if the bright flash tickled her. The mother noticed her laughter and smiled. “Ah.” She cooed. “My little Lila is happy…” The mother laid Lila on a changing table. She unzipped her pink footed sleeper and unsnapped her white onesie. As she was about to take off Lila’s diaper, a voice made her turn around. “Mommy! I’m up!” The mother pivoted and noticed that it was Camden, in his green pajamas. Camden smiled when he glanced at his little sister. “How’s little Lila, mommy?” The mother smiled. “Lila’s a bright ball of sunshine this morning, Camden dear. Now, I’m about to change your sister’s diaper. It’s a very stinky one, so I don’t think you want to watch.” Camden closed his eyes and pretended to barf, making the barf sound. “Before you do that, I wanna thank you for not calling me a baby for peeing the bed last night.” The mother nodded. “You’re not. As I told you, I wet the bed when I was your age. Now, let me change your sister Lila’s diaper…” “Little Lila!” Camden said with a smile. He glanced down at his happy sister. Get into a clean one, okay? Mommy, I’m going to watch cartoons. Okay? I love Saturday!” Camden left the room, leaving the mother to take care of the important business with Lila. The mother opened up the tabs on Lila’s diaper and folded the front down. Just as she suspected, a large chunk of poo lay in the center, surrounded by the soggy liner. Lila glanced at her mother as she changed her diaper. One thing that she noticed was that she couldn’t see the glow coming from the diaper. Only she could see it for some reason. The mother lifted her out of the wet, stinky, and messy diaper and got out the wipes. She began wiping all the poo off of her diaper area. She wiped her frontal area really good and then laid Lila on her tummy to wipe all the poo out of her bottom and clean that area really good. Lila grinned as she reflected on seeing her brother in the room. Just as she wished, she was now the youngest again. And even better, she now has an older brother! The mother wiped everything one more time and rubbed some Aquaphor all over her daughter’s bottom, abdomen, and diaper area. Finally, she powdered her bottom and diaper areas with a few light pats. She opened up a brand new box of Huggies Little Snugglers. It was a huge pack with 180 diapers. She took the first white sleeve and tore the plastic along the top, exposing the rounded ends of all the new diapers. She pulled one out of the sleeve and held it. Right after she held it, it flashed brightly and began to glow. To Lila’s amazement, her mother couldn’t see the glow. Only she could see it. The mother laid Lila on the new glowing diaper and folded the front over her diaper area. She swiftly fastened both tapes to the center of the landing zone. Lila smiled, still in awe over the new glowing diaper that she had. Oh, I wish that every new diaper that I’m changed with is a magic diaper! No sooner did the words leave her thoughts when all of the diapers in that new opened sleeve began to flash and glow. Lila smiled, as her mother snapped up her onesie. So many wishes. Unlimited wishes. Her smile turned to laughter as she giggled with delight. Lila’s diaper wish came true.

The one thing Madelyn desires most in the world is to wear diapers again, and she is prepared to do anything to make that wish come true. As inexplicable as that desire is for a twelve-year-old girl, it is one she has obsessed over for the past three years. Ever since Madelyn tried on a pull-up that a distant cousin had used for bedwetting, the thought of what it would be like to forego her underwear for that padded, crinkling sensation between her legs has been a desire she has been unable to shake. Every other plan to get her hands on diapers or pull-ups has failed up to now. But this time it is going to be different. This time it is going to work. This time she isn’t going to back out at the last minute. The plan is simple. All Madelyn has to do is intentionally begin to wet the bed at night. Then, her parents will have no choice but to get her the diapers she so badly desires. What could possibly go wrong? Chapter 1: Daydreams in Class I will not chicken out this time. That was what I had told myself two days ago. That was also what I had told myself yesterday. Third time was the charm, right? It was easy to put a bold face to my latest harebrained scheme to acquire diapers from the safety of my daydreams. It was much harder when the time came to actually carry out the plan that had been brewing in the back of my mind for the past year – one I had finally decided to put into motion this week. Why would a 12-year-old girl want to wear diapers in the first place? I don’t know. All I know is that for the past three years, nothing I have done has been successful at getting this obsession out of my head. I certainly didn’t have any interest in being a baby. My younger brother, Jackson, is only six years old. I discovered where Mom kept all his old baby stuff long ago. I’ve tried his old pacifiers, bottles, and sippy cups. None of those items held any appeal for me. I can’t stand kids’ TV shows. I can’t color to save my life. And don’t get me started on dollhouses, barbies, and whatever other toys babies like to play with. In every aspect of my life other than this strange desire for diapers, I wanted to act my age. My latest plan all started a year ago with a magazine and a desire to procrastinate on my homework. There had to be some level of irony to the fact that this latest idea came about when I was seated on the porcelain throne. Mom had almost a dozen different magazines she subscribed to. Most of them found their way to the bathroom, which was also probably the only circumstance where I would have even considered reading them in the first place. I was already finished doing my business, but leaving the bathroom meant needing to continue a homework assignment I’d been slowly picking away at for the past hour. The only reason I even bothered to pick up a copy of the Reader’s Digest on that day about a year ago was for the few sections where it had funny jokes and stories. That, and I had left my smartphone in the bedroom. I really didn’t know how my parents managed when they were my age. I skimmed through the first section of jokes. Whoever had put together this edition of the magazine had totally mailed it in. There was a completely unoriginal one about redheads and souls that had me tempted to toss the magazine in the garbage. I mean, with how many magazines Mom had, would she even miss it? Redhead jokes get old really quick when you’ve had people telling you them your whole life. It has been forever since I’d been told one I hadn’t heard before. And even longer since I’ve been told one that was actually funny. Maybe I would have better luck with the second humor section toward the back of the magazine. I flipped through the pages casually when one of the advertisements caught my eye. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing. There it was. Right on the page. An exact replicate of the pull-up I had briefly stolen from a cousin two years ago. But there was more. That pull-up from two years ago had been the boys’ designs. This ad showed that there were ones for girls as well. And even though I’d had a pretty good growth spurt in the past two years, the product info indicated that I wasn’t even close to being too big to wear them. I didn’t tuck the magazine in the trash, but I did take it with me from the bathroom, burying it deep inside my box of miscellaneous things in my bedroom. I’ve looked at that page at least once a day for the past year. “Earth to Maddy. Earth to Maddy. We’re calling in.” My head jerked upright from the hard wooden desk in my math classroom to the sound of laughter. “Here!” I called back to our math teacher. “Well, thank you for joining us again, Maddy. Now,” he said, pointing to a cluster of numbers, letters, and symbols on the whiteboard, “that we’ve isolated ‘x’ on this side of the equation. Can you tell us what it is?” I had enough trouble paying attention in classes that I liked. For ones I hated? The temptation to daydream was hard to resist. And I hated math class. It was hard enough when we were dealing with regular numbers. I would be lucky to scrape by with a “B-” on my report card. But now, with the end of the school year in sight, my math teacher had ever-so-helpfully decided to give us a sneak peek of some of the things we got to look forward to learning next year in eighth grade. I sucked at long division. But it at least made sense conceptually. The numbers were real, even if doing the work to get the answer was tedious. But now there was this thing the teacher called Algebra, where we were supposed to be adding up letters as well as numbers, which was beyond my ability to comprehend. Every “x” and “y” on the whiteboard seemed designed to taunt me. May as well put a “D” or a “C” on the board, as that was about what I could expect on my report card next year if this was what was in store for me. I stared blankly at the whiteboard with the sinking feeling that even if I had been paying attention for the past five minutes, I wouldn’t be any closer to understanding what was going on. “Um,” I said, picking at my nails while I continued to stare ahead. I had to at least give some kind of guess. But my brain and my mouth sometimes aren’t exactly in sync with one another. “The spot.” “I’m sorry. What was that?” Mr. Thompson asked. “You know, the spot. Like, ‘x’ marks the spot.” The classroom was full of laughter again. This time with me rather than at me. I made eye contact with one of my friends, Angie, who turned to look back at me from the front row. We shared a smirk at the joke. Mr. Thompson sighed. “Everyone settled down, please.” He gave me a look that suggested he might be once again telling my parents about how I had apparently been disruptive in class. “Now, Maddy, if you had been paying attention as we worked through this problem, you would know that the answer was actually…” I didn’t even manage to pay attention long enough to get to the answer to what ‘x’ happened to be or what sorcery had been used to arrive at that conclusion. I fixed my eyes on a spot on the whiteboard, a method I had mastered to trick teachers into thinking I was actually paying attention to their nonsense when I’d rather be daydreaming. My thoughts slipped back toward my plans for this evening. The third time had to be the charm, right? It wasn’t really my fault the first two attempts at wetting the bed had failed. The first night, I had simply been too tired. We’d had an exhausting soccer game that evening that had gone on to overtime, and we’d been shorthanded, so I hadn’t spent almost any time on the bench. I had fully intended to stay up past midnight but had used the excuse of being tired to back out of it. Instead, I let myself drift off to sleep without wetting the bed. During the second night, I’d managed to stay up until 1 a.m., but I had found it impossible to make myself pee. I simply hadn’t had enough to drink. I had considered simply pouring water on my bed, but I was worried that might not be convincing enough should my parents make a closer examination of my bedding. I could have snuck off for a glass of water in the kitchen and stayed up another hour, but again, I chickened out and pushed the plan off to another night. But tonight was going to be different. I was going to be drinking as much water as I could tonight, and I would skip going to the toilet before going to bed. Plus, tonight was Friday, which meant it was pizza night, so as long as I picked out a caffeinated soda, I should be able to keep myself up late enough for this plan to work. I realized that I was likely going to have to keep this up for multiple nights. One random night of bedwetting — after having never wet the bed since I had been potty trained at the age of two — wouldn’t be enough to convince my parents to take action. But if I could have the courage to keep it up long enough, they would have no choice but to purchase the pull-ups shown on the magazine page for me. I would make sure to leave that old magazine out in a way that would get Mom to see the advertisement. It was a desperate move, but I couldn’t wait any longer for the pull-ups. I knew from other advertisements I’d seen that these pull-ups were sold in stores. Had there been a store close by that I could bike to, I might have considered going out and purchasing some for myself on a day when I had been left at home on my own. But that wasn’t an option for me. I still had over three years to go before I would be old enough to get my own driver’s license. I had already waited three years for this. I couldn’t possibly wait three more. “Maddy. Earth to Maddy. Hey!” There was the sound of hands clapping together a single time. More laughter. I blinked rapidly, adjusting my gaze over to Mr. Thompson, where he was standing at the front of the classroom with his palms still pressed together from making the noise he had used to so rudely interrupt my daydreams. “Maddy, please just take one of the homework sheets and pass the rest behind you.” I looked straight ahead, where Chloe was holding a stack of papers with her arm stretched out toward me. She rolled her eyes at me as I grabbed them from her. In a rare moment of self-control, I did not stick my tongue out at her. I took one of the homework sheets and passed the remaining one behind me to where one of my two best friends was sitting. The three of us had initially been seated next to each other. But Mr. Thompson decided a few weeks into the school year that doing so was too much of a distraction. Emma, who had been seated to my right, was switched to the seat behind me. Angie, who had been on my left, had worse luck. Not only was she moved to the front of the class, but she had to sit next to Ryan, who had the disgusting habit of picking his nose in public. But that was OK. We’d have the whole weekend together. Tonight was the beginning of the playoffs for our U13 soccer team. We’d had a moderately successful season, meaning we’d managed to somehow win more games than we lost over the past several months. It was disappointing that the spring soccer season was so close to coming to an end, but we had the opportunity to keep it going this weekend if we could manage to string a few victories together. The bell rang as the final class of the week came to an end. Mr. Thompson belted out more instructions about the homework as I slid the piece of paper, with all its archaic symbols and equations, into my backpack. I’d just ask Angie and Emma later to see if there was something I’d missed in his instructions. I joined my two friends in the hallway. We all lived in the same neighborhood, so we rushed off to catch the bus together. They chatted excitedly about the game tonight, but I walked alongside them in silence. My thoughts were somewhere entirely else. My mind settled on the image of the pull-up I had held in my hand three years ago. The few minutes where I had examined it thoroughly, my fingers tracing over its whole surface. How it had felt to wear it for a couple of minutes before I was forced to set it aside, not knowing the opportunity was one I wouldn’t get again for years. Should everything go as planned, I would be wearing a pull-up again in less than a week. But to accomplish that, I needed to wet the bed tonight – on purpose. <><><> Three years ago If there was a single moment that perhaps best defined the last three years of my life, it was that day three years ago when it all began. The day I first laid eyes on a simple object that would become an obsession I would never be able to shake off. I didn’t cry at the funeral. I knew, intellectually, that this was what people were supposed to do. But even the sight of my aged great-grandfather lying in the open casket hadn’t moved me to tears. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t sad, but it was a more abstract kind of sadness. That kind that has someone thinking heavy thoughts about what happens after death, not that kind that leaves someone bawling on their knees. I had no memories of the man lying in the casket. My parents said I had met my great-grandfather three times. But I had been too young to have any memories of those visits. My older sister, Grace, on the other hand, was devastated. It was her first funeral as well. She had memories of her great-grandfather. The man in the casket was not an abstract concept to her, but the ghost of someone who had played with her and held her in his arms. Jackson cried as well, but that was just because he was a baby. You could never exactly tell what it was that they were upset about most of the time. The three-year-old boy likely just needed a nap. But the funeral home wasn’t where that pivotal event in my life transpired; it was merely marked the event that gave cause for all my distant relations – grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins – to join together from where they were all scattered across the country. The reception after the funeral was where the fateful moment occurred. The adults ate, drank, and smoked while kids split into playing games with others of their age. There was a cohort of preschoolers huddled around a TV, watching stupid kids’ shows. On the other end of the spectrum was a collection of angsty teenagers Grace had abandoned me to hang out with. They weren’t particularly welcoming of youngsters, and my normally friendly sister had shooed me off after I attempted to tag along with her. Not that I cared that much. Other than my sister, teenagers made me a bit apprehensive. Besides, there were a half-dozen other kids my age to hang out with. My mom introduced me to two boys shortly after we arrived at the house for the reception. One of them, Alex, was eight. Though he made clear he would be nine in a few weeks, which would make him as old as me. His younger brother, Timothy, was seven. The boys were distant cousins from half-way across the country. There was some technical term Mom used for exactly what type of cousin they were to me — second cousins, twice removed. That didn’t mean anything to me. All that mattered was that they were my age and more than open to finding some way to play in order to pass the time while the adults did whatever adults did. We hit it off immediately. We did what kids that age normally do. We fell into the habit of playing simple games with each other as if we had been friends all of our lives. The two brothers were staying at the house where the reception was being hosted, so it was only fair that they gave me a tour of the massive building. We explored the expansive backyard, winding our way through the adults in the garden until we were shooed away. We played in the basement for a while, which had foosball and ping-pong tables before the teens decided that was where they wanted to be hanging out instead. But there was still plenty of house to explore. Alex and Timothy led me up a winding staircase to some rooms upstairs, where they had been sleeping while their family stayed with the relatives who were hosting the reception. That’s when I stumbled across a stunning revelation. One that would shape my life for the next three years. Haunt my dreams. Hound my thoughts. Practically drive me crazy as I was often left incapable of thinking of anything else. There was something out-of-place sitting in the corner of the room on top of a pile of discarded laundry. I tended to usually say the first thing that came to mind without regard to whether it was socially appropriate to do so. I wasn’t any better at that at the age of nine. I pointed at a blue undergarment in the corner that didn’t exactly look like a normal piece of underwear. It was not as though I didn’t have a good suspicion of what it was. But I wanted confirmation. “What is that?” Timothy walked casually over to the corner and picked it up. “Oh, that’s my pull-up.” I looked at the item in his hand. He was seven. That couldn’t possibly be his. I felt sure I was the subject of some kind of joke. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “You’re too old to wear pull-ups.” “Older kids sometimes need to wear pull-ups,” he said, still holding the item in his hand. His defiance left me no less confused. I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that even fits you.” I hadn’t intended in any way to dare them to put the pull-up on. But that must be how that statement had come across. Alex snatched the pull-up out of his brother’s hand and tugged it on over his dress pants. “See,” he said. “It fits. We wear them ’cause we still wet the bed.” They were bedwetters. And they weren’t the least bit ashamed of it. That was at least a topic that I understood. I had no intention of teasing or bullying them. While neither my brother nor I were bedwetters, my older sister had wet the bed up until a year or so ago. Why hadn’t I put together a connection between pull-ups and bedwetting? Come to think of it. I wasn’t even sure if Grace had worn pull-ups during her bedwetting phase. She had her own room, which I was very much forbidden from going into, so if she had, there wasn’t any way I would have known about it. When I had first learned of my older sister’s predicament, my parents had sat down with me and calmly explained what bedwetting was and how I was to never shame or tease her about it. And given how privately they had handled her condition, and the fact that it hadn’t ever impacted my life at all, I truthfully hadn’t ever given her bedwetting much of a thought. Alex mistook my pensiveness while considering my sister’s bedwetting to mean that I was still confused about the topic. He launched into a long explanation with words like enuresis, explaining how bedwetting was just a medical condition that he and his brother would grow out of. “Do you wet the bed?” Timothy asked me. “No,” I replied. I came close to continuing my reply and accidentally outing my sister, but I would never do something that mean to her. Alex still had the pull-up around his waist, completely unconcerned with how silly it looked. The pull-up had a picture of Spiderman, my favorite superhero, on the front. I pointed that out, which led to another conversation about which Marvel superheroes we liked best. Timothy was big on Iron Man. But Alex insisted that Batman was better than any of them. My eyes kept glancing down at Alex’s waist. I found myself unable to look away from the pull-up for long. The sight of the pull-up around Alex’s waist raised another thought. That pull-up would fit me just as well. My distant cousin and I were both about the same size, after all. I didn’t question the desire to wear the pull-up. Once the impulse had taken hold of me, there was little else I could think of as I distractedly continued the conversation with my cousins. Our parents called us down for dinner. Alex ripped the pull-up off and tossed it back in the corner of the room before we retreated down the stairs. I was unable to concentrate during dinner. Alex and Timothy were across the table from me, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut about what I had just witnessed. I was filled to the brim with questions, most of which I would have to keep inside unless I were presented with another chance to have a private discussion with those two bedwetting cousins. But there was one question more important than any of them. One perhaps best answered on my own rather than by asking them. What did it feel like to wear a pull-up? While the adults were content to sit and chat around at the table long after their plates were clean, that wasn’t the case for us kids, and soon we were back to running around; Timothy, Alex, and I were joined by another four cousins. Big houses and hide and seek go hand in hand together. We agreed that hiding upstairs in the house was against the rules for the game of hide and seek. That meant that the upstairs room where the pull-ups were waiting for me was technically off-limits. But I didn’t care one bit about the game. Anyway, making the upstairs rooms off-limits had been my idea. An absolutely brilliant stroke of genius for a then nine-year-old girl. In one move, I’d ensured that no one would be up there when I went looking for the pull-up and that I would be safe from anyone following after me. I took quick glances in both directions as I stood at the base of the stairway. Perfect. There were no other kids in sight. I leaped up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time with each upward lunge until I was safely around the corner and out of sight. I encountered my first problem when I made it to the bedroom where Timothy and Alex had been sleeping. I had somehow assumed that the pull-up Alex had ripped off could be fixed. I seemed to recall that the pull-ups my brother had worn a year ago had Velcro sides. But that wasn’t the case with these bedwetting pull-ups for some reason. But there had to be additional pull-ups elsewhere. There couldn’t be any way that the boy’s parents would risk them peeing all over the bed while they were spending the night as guests. I didn’t have any luck in the first suitcase that I looked through, nor the second, but the third one was where I struck gold. There were more than a dozen pull-ups tucked into the side of the suitcase. Surely, they wouldn’t notice if one of them happened to go missing. I grabbed a pull-up and bundled the pull-up into a ball, tucking it into the waistband of my skirt. I was sure that was not nearly as discreet as I thought it was at the time. But, to my good fortune, I was able to make it to a nearby bathroom without being caught. The adults were busy downstairs, and my cousins, who were playing hide and seek, were doing a better job than I was at abiding by the rules. I locked the bathroom door behind me. I double and triple-checked to make sure the door was actually locked. I removed the pull-up from under my skirt and held it in my hands. I didn’t stop then to think through how bizarre the whole situation was at the time. I think I must have stood there looking at it for several minutes. Feeling how it crinkled beneath my touch, testing out the sides to see how far they could stretch, rubbing my fingers down the padded interior. I was completely and utterly fascinated by it. The desire was no more explainable than a moth being drawn to a flame, a kitten to catnip, or a raven to a shiny object. I cautiously slid my arms through the leg holes, stretching the pull-up out in front of me. Not only was it more than stretchy enough for me, but it could probably fit a kid twice as wide as I was. Now came the moment of truth. I removed my skirt and underwear. The pull-up had a side that was helpfully labeled as the back, so I knew which way to put it on. As I brought the pull-up into place around my waist, it was like sliding the final piece of a puzzle into place. I turned around so that I could look at my reflection in the mirror. I lifted up the front of my skirt so that the whole pull-up was in view. It practically came up all the way to my belly button. There was something about the way it hugged my sides, the way the soft padding pressed against my skin as I sat down on the toilet lid and the way it crinkled quietly as I paced across the bathroom that left me completely enamored. There was just one thing left to do. And I didn’t have much time before everyone noticed that I was missing. I lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and sat down while still wearing the pull-up. One of my deepest regrets was that I had went to go potty right before the game of hide and seek began, meaning there wasn’t anything waiting to come out of my bladder at the moment. I tried. I really did. I wanted to know. I had to know. What would it feel like to pee into a pull-up? It couldn’t be bad. Alex and Timothy hadn’t seemed to be put off at all by waking up in a wet pull-up every morning. But nothing happened. The timing was off. My bladder wouldn’t cooperate. And time was up. I needed to be out of the bathroom in a couple of minutes. I considered it a radical idea. What if I put my underwear and skirt over the top of the pull-up? I could continue to wear it until I actually needed to pee. I nearly did it. I really, truly, honestly nearly did it. But then I chickened out. The same way I would, time and time again for years afterward. It was too risky. A small trickle of shame was diluting my euphoria. I knew that despite how ecstatic I was at my discovery, the reality of anyone else discovering this secret — and the relentless shame and teasing that would follow — would be devastating. I wasn’t like Alex or Timothy. I didn’t have the veneer of bedwetting to hide behind as an excuse for wearing a pull-up. I slid the pull-up off of my legs. I intended to put it back in the suitcase. Then it would be like nothing had ever happened. That’s when I encountered a second problem. Apparently, I had gone potty in the pull-up after all. Not a lot, just the teensiest of tinkles. But it was enough to leave a tiny yellow patch the size of a quarter smack dab in the middle of the pull-up. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had even noticed it in the first place. That would have made for an awkward situation for Alex and Timothy had I put the pull-up back in the suitcase. I peered into the trash can. I was in luck. I could make out two pull-ups at the bottom of the small trash can. One had been turned inside out, the color of its interior leaving no doubt as to the truthfulness of Alex’s description of his and his brother’s bedwetting. I bunched up the pull-up and tossed it in the trash can. I didn’t think it was likely that anyone would be paying too much attention to notice the addition of one more pull-up in it. My curiosity sated, I returned to the game of hide and seek, pretending that I had been expertly moving in between hiding places to avoid being spotted. I didn’t think anymore about the pull-up until later that evening when we were lying in bed at the hotel. Jackson was little enough that he could sleep on a padded mat and sleeping bag on the floor while Grace and I shared a bed – an experience that hadn’t gone well the past couple of nights, as it had been interrupted by midnight accusation of blanket theft. If it had just been Grace and me in the room, if Mom, Dad, and Jackson hadn’t been around to overhear it, I might have worked up the courage to ask my older sister about her bedwetting. I wasn’t even sure if she knew that I knew about it. But I had to know. Had she worn the same pull-ups as Alex and Timothy? Was there perhaps a style that came in colors and designs for girls? But we weren’t alone, and those questions went unasked. The drive home wasn’t any easier. I didn’t touch my tablet, which had been my constant companion on the trip here. Instead, I stared out the window. But I wasn’t paying any attention to the passing cities and landscapes. Instead, my mind was replaying the events of the previous day, in particular, the few precious minutes when I had my hands on the pull-up. I was filled with a deep sense of longing and regret. Why had I thrown the pull-up in the trash? Why hadn’t I put it back on beneath my skirt? I would have had it with me now. I could have been wearing it now. Of course, I did know better. I would have had no issue wearing the pull-up out of the house, but once we had gotten to the hotel, there wouldn’t have been any realistic way for me to have kept it concealed. But the acknowledgment of that reality did nothing to lessen my longing for the pull-up. I had nothing but time as I began to scheme up all the different ways I could get my hands on another one, or better yet, an actual diaper. What would I have done if I had known the wait was to be measured in years rather than days, weeks, or months? --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

Set after frozen 1 She had done it Elsa was queen Anna was saved and had a new boyfriend she could do this she had for 18 years after all, she was… as an involuntary whimper escaped her it’s not that this hadn’t been happening for nearly 2 decades she rationalized pulling her blanket around her shaking frame more as she tried to sleep, amusing herself by making silly shapes and an ice plane to hover around her she was a monster her parents had all but said as much she didn’t deserve comfort nor would she ask, she could handle this she was meant to be an example as she strained to keep her eyes shut in a sleepless stuper til morning

21-year-old Jillian Jenners is down on her luck and accepts her younger twin sister Jennifer's invitation to stay with her at her cozy three-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia. Having just finished college and earned her degree, Jillian is still jobless and desperate to find a new start in her life. When Jillian begins to have her nighttime accidents, she turns to diapers as a solution to her embarrassing problem. A new opportunity presents itself when Jillian discovers the world of streaming and begins to build a sizable following. When a "wardrobe malfunction" happens during one of her streams, it further boosts her fame in the streaming community. Does Jillian keep wearing diapers to please her fans, or does she stop altogether? And what part does her twin sister Jennifer have in this whole story? Find out in this original tale of discovery, acceptance, and, of course, diapers. Foreward: The JJ Diaper Twins - How it all Started Hi! First of all, thank you very much for purchasing our book! I am Jillian Jenners (but you knew that already!). I am sure that you are all very much aware of me and my sister Jen. Whether you stumbled across our YouTube channel, our Tiktok, found us on Instagram, our Facebook page, X (twitter), JustForFans, or happened to catch one of our many exciting Twitch streams, you all know us as the JJ Diaper Twins. The two J’s consist of me, Jillian Jenners and of course my identical twin sister Jennifer Jenners. We are basically diapered celebrities and have even caught attention of the mainstream media. But how did it all start? That is just what this book is going to tell you. Consider this book as a biography of the lives of me and my twin sister getting our exciting start in the city of brotherly love: Philadelphia. Home of those delicious cheesesteaks, tastykakes, and tomato pies. My aim for this book is to very clearly tell all of you my story and how the JJ Diaper Twins even became a thing in the first place. Now, I am sure that some of you will want to come and bother us with requests to be our caregivers. Just to be up front, both I and Jen are already taken. We will take no requests, but feel free to support us on our Crowdfunder (the very reason why this book exists) or buy our branded pacifiers, bottles, bibs, blankets, stuffys, and clothing made for every one of you JJ Littles. We have footed sleepers, onesies, cute frilly dresses and skirts, shortalls, socks, changing mats, plastic pants, and even our very own line of diapers coming very soon! The JJ Cozy Crinklez (coming soon!) will be the comfiest, most absorbent diaper on the ABDL market. We assure you that these diapers are able to handle the most destructive floods that you can unleash on them. My sister and I agree that these diapers are the best ones that we have ever worn (and believe me, we have tried them all!). Keep supporting us through your donations as each donation helps to keep the cost of these diapers affordable and competitive with the other brands. We are working on getting proper supply channels so that you won’t be waiting too long for your next exciting order. The JJ Nighty Nites are just a little more absorbent and can handle the heaviest of your overnight super soakings. Jen and I have tried them a number of times before bed and we both agree that there has yet to be a leaky diaper. We are both excited to bring this new addition to our J&J Merchandise. We are also working on a documentary and our first show on CuriosityStream, so be on the lookout for that. Why CuriosityStream? This platform will grant us greater freedom to tell our story to all of you JJ Littles, without the restrictions that YouTube would place on us. Besides our current projects, I will get back to the most current project that we have just recently completed: this book. Both Jen and I would like to thank you for all your help and support for without it, we wouldn’t be the JJ Diaper Twins that you know and love today. Now, how will this book be structured? To get the full story, both Jen and I have devoted sections to this book to each tell our own story of how this all started. It’s a crazy story, but every bit of it is true. My story will be told first in “Jillian’s Story” so I would recommend starting with that one. Following that one will be “Jennifer’s Story” and everything there will be told from her point of view. The next section of this book will contain a thank you message from my twin sister, so don’t forget to read that before you get to the table of contents! This whole book has been a labor of love and we devote this book to every one of you who purchased it. So to all my JJ Littles out there, stay diapered! Live full, laugh long, play strong! Love You Always, Jillian Jenners July 21, 2028 Foreward: A Very Special Thankies to All of You! Hi hi everyone! I’m sure that you have all read my twin sister’s previous section. Knowing (and trusting) that you have, you know that we are both very excited that you have picked up this book to hear the full story of how Jill and I became the JJ Diaper Twins that you know and love today. So thankies very muchies for all your help and support! Prior to my sister Jill’s meteoric rise to fame, I was a CPA working at one of the leading CPA firms in Philadelphia: Conway, Phillips, & Associates. Prior to Jill’s fame, I provided her with a place to stay at my apartment. You all know the rest of the story, but the purpose of this book is to fill in all of those details in between my sister’s anonymity and our now shared fame that is celebrated by all the JJ Littles. I will be honest, everyone. I at first was hesitant to follow in my sister’s footsteps. Due to the stigma of this kind of lifestyle, I wasn’t at all comfortable to join my sister in all the facets of her lifestyle of infantilism. But after seeing all the benefits that she reaped and seeing the endless stress and anxiety that came from the continual demands of my CPA firm, the initial experience that I had with diapers proved cathartic to me. How did I go from my insistent reluctance to join my sister to combining with my sister to become one of the biggest names in the ABDL community? That is the purpose of this book. I will not reveal anymore, as you will have to read my side of the story (Jennifer’s Story) to get all of the replete details recounting the genesis of the protection that “changed” my life. I will be honest again. As a result of taking that padded red pill, it has cost me relationships that I will never be able to rekindle again. But as a result, I have a wonderful and supportive community of the most caring and loving people that I have ever met. At every meet and greet, you all have never ceased to amaze me with your kindness and support. My sister has already detailed you on our future projects, so that redundancy will be avoided here. Just know that we have both mutually discussed every project together and I (thanks to my stellar financial background) have reviewed everything financially before moving forward with each project. Each project benefits all of you, and is FOR every one of you lovely littles. As is this book that you are now holding. Consider this miniature tome a passion project conceived by both I and my twin sister (who I love with all my heart) Jill. We want to share with you the story on how we both became the JJ Diaper Twins. How we can now wear our diapers proudly everyday and help out our ever-growing family of JJ Littles. To satiate your curiosity, yes. Both Jill and I are fully diaper dependent now with no sign of ever returning to urinary or fecal continence. Also (as she already told you), we already both have wonderful caregivers that are sweet and wonderful to both of us. With that knowledge in your possession, please refrain from making any solicitations to be our caregivers. You are all a wonderful community and neither of us could’ve ever made it this far without all of you. To address the needs of both Little and Caregiver alike, my sister and I are in the process of creating a network to match you JJ Littles to a wonderful caregiver that will care for all of your needs. We want it to be a good system so we are taking our time on it. Please be patient. Whether you’re the little or the caregiver. Please be patient. Again I would like to say thankies very muchies to all of you! The movement that my sister started has allowed me to discover and fully embrace my inner little. A side of me that I prefer to keep mostly private, but for your sake show it every now and then. Remember. Littlespace is nothing to be ashamed of. It is therapy for every one of us to escape from the overwhelming difficulties and challenges of everyday life. Love every moment of that littlespace, but take care of those adult things that need to get done (ESPECIALLY if you don’t have a caregiver!) Well, my sister and I need to get this final draft to the publisher so all of you can see our curious and interesting tale from full anonymity to full blown ABDL stardom. It’s surprising, embarrassing, exciting, and rewarding. This experience has taught me so much, and I hope that it will teach all of you as well. I will close with the closing that both Jill and I use to close out our Twitch Streams that served as a foundation of Jill’s career: Live full, laugh long, play strong! Stay diapered, all you JJ Little besties! Love You All Sincerely, Jennifer Jenners July 21, 2028 I. Jillian's Story Chapter 1 : Down on my Luck Hi! I know that all of you already know who I am, but here it goes. In case any of you just skipped the introduction or for some reason have not heard of me yet, I will tell you again. My name is Jillian Marie Jenners. And before you’re left wondering, yes. The same Jillian Jenners that’s part of the Jenners Twins, or the nickname that’s more familiar in the community: the JJ Diaper Twins. I’m the one “J” and my twin sister Jennifer is the other “J”. We are identical twins, but we couldn’t be anymore different! Yes, we shared the same egg and womb at birth, but that is where the similarities end. And to address your comments on the tabloids and fake news, don’t believe any of the fake stories that the media conjures about us. None of it is true (as I’m sure that all of you already know). Their agenda is solely there to silence us and our cause. A cause that they for some reason see as a threat to their agenda. What? Do they not want us to share the spotlight with the other celebrities? It’s clear that the Hollywood Elites write all the rules of who stays and who goes in Hollywood and it’s very clear to them that a pair of ABDL twins are not allowed to have any of the spotlight as they want it all to themselves. What gives them the audacity to try to silence or cancel emerging icons representing a cause that they don’t even understand? They don’t want to, so they’ll make up fake stories to keep us from becoming stars. Well you know what, Hollywood? Your attempts are not working. Our movement is stronger than ever, and it’s about to tear down the walls of your Elitest club of yours. But anyway, I digress. Now for the most intense burning question that any of you ever gave me. And believe me. I hear this one every time when I stream with my twin to this day: “How did you and Jenny become the JJ Diaper Twins?” I get this question every single stream. Every. Single. Stream. Well, question no more my fellow JJ Little Besties! I am about to tell you everything. How my life was changed forever. How my sister’s video game console launched my career. How an embarrassing accident and mishap during a stream transformed my career. All of you are responsible for making my career the success that it is, and I thank every one of you. Now after I tell you everything, please help the mods in answering the question. All of you will have the answer now, and you’ll be able to share it with every person that doesn’t know about this story yet. So, you wanna know how Jillian Jenners (that’s ME!) went from a nobody to a big YouTuber and streaming celebrity? Hang on to your diapys (and make sure it’s a fresh one) and listen to my story. This is my humble beginning and I hope that it can inspire you from wherever you are to achieve your dreams and aim for the very best. How did I get into wearing diapers in the first place? To answer that question, we have to go all the way back to June of 2023. Yes. Five years to get to the very beginning. I was a fresh college graduate from Cleveland State University while my twin sister chose Penn State to get her Master’s Degree in Accounting and earn her CPA. Yes, we went to different schools. As I said earlier, we may be identical but we couldn’t be more different! It was only one month since I graduated. But since my sister was in an accelerated program (that, and she used all her free time to take extra classes), she graduated one year ahead of me and went on to earn her CPA license. She just celebrated her fourth month at Conway, Phillips, & Associates (one of the leading accounting firms in Philadelphia where she lives now). What was I doing? I was starving. My emergency fund was starting to dry up. My sister’s numerous scholarships (plus her firm paying for her Masters Degree while she interned there) got her a full ride through all of her college education. On the other hand, I was sacked with debt from the Bachelor’s of Science Degree in Communication that was doing nothing for me at the time. And my parents couldn’t help me with my schooling either since my sister and I came from a poor family. I mean, $145,000 in college debt? Everyone, all I did was cry that entire month after I graduated. Failed interview after failed interview. My grades were really good, but the market was competitive. Who would hire me as a news anchor when so many other candidates had better qualifications than me? Wasn’t the news station that I interned at in Cleveland good enough for all of you? Well laugh it up, because my sister and I are making more than all of you now! Five figures? Try seven! But seriously. The economic times were really tough in 2023 (and they still are now in 2028). After spending a solid month of dried-up job leads, failed interviews, and zero job offers, I drowned my sorrows with a pint of Mint Chocolate chip ice cream. It was my guilty pleasure, but the refreshing mint at least tried to sweeten my rotten month of failed prospects. I was crying in the kitchen halfway through my pity pint of minty goodness. “You still crying, Jill pill?” My roommate Natasha asked me. What else could I do? Everything that I tried led to a dead end. And now, I was about to run out of money… “Yes, I’m still crying!” I told her. “You would be too if you had over $100,000 in unpaid college debt and no job prospects…” Natasha placed her hand on my shoulder. I didn’t know why she did this, as it DEFINITELY didn’t make things any better. “Jill? I know that you’re going through a rough patch right now. I know that I can’t do much to help you, but do you have anyone else that can help?” I sighed as I repeated the question in my mind over and over. “Well, I know that my parents can’t help me,” I told her matter-of-factly. “I already told you that they’re poor. My sister on the other hand is in Philly, rolling in money from her CPA job…” “Just ask your sister!” Natasha told me. I ignored her and dug up another generous scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I shoved the heaping spoonful into my mouth in my futile attempt to numb the pain of my miserable existence. Why did I ever go to school to be a news anchor? Who would ever want to hear a loser like me? Besides, most of the candidates that got the job were men. So much for gender equality… The explosion of sweet mintiness filled my mouth and I quickly swallowed it. “My sister?” I said in a forlorn sigh. “She’s got her own life now! What would she want with me?” That’s when I heard a knock at the door. “Miss Jenners!” the voice boomed, sounding like a crotchety old lady. It was the landlady. My rent was due. Aw shoot! I thought I already paid it! I KNOW I did last month! “Your rent is due, miss!” the voice repeated. “$950! Do you have it?” I opened the door and sighed. “Mrs. Steinbeck, just one second…” I woke up my cell phone and opened my banking app. I checked the balance and my heart sank. $20.89. I only had $20.89 in my account! “Well, I do have $20.89…” I told the landlady, my sheepish voice beginning to choke. The landlady shook her head. “Cash dear. I need it all in cash. You have until tomorrow night to give me the money. Give me it or you will be evicted. I will seize all your property as collateral and will return it once the rent is paid in full. I WILL do this if you don’t have the rent tomorrow. Do I make myself clear, Miss Jenners?” “Crystal…” I choked. The landlady slowly but firmly closed the door. I then started crying again. Natasha looked at me and sighed. “Girl, I can give you $100, but I still need to pay for my half.” I half smiled when I heard her say “girl”. This was a Natashaism and her favorite word to use before beginning a sentence. I guess it’s more common with her being from the Dallas-Fort Worth Area of Texas. I have nothing against any of you Texans (your accent is AMAZING!). It’s just that my accent is very boring compared to yours. And Natasha’s accent was Texas Golden. I grabbed my pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream (which was now starting to turn into a melty mess) and began to shovel the next melty mouthful. Natasha opened her purse and pulled out five 20-dollar bills. She firmly placed the money in my hand and gestured me to place my spoon down. “Set your ice cream down and look at me.” Natasha said firmly. “Both eyes, Jill…” I fixed my gaze on Natasha and ran my fingers through my brown hair. Okay. I’m staring at her. What now? “And stop playing with your hair!” she ordered. “I need you to act like a proper lady.” Proper? Lady? What is this, finishing school? I let go of my hair and sighed, placing both hands to my side. “Okay. No nervous fidgets or stims. What?” Natasha smiled, happy that I have her undivided attention. “Take the money. You need it, girl…” There she goes with that “girl”, again! Even after a year of living with her, I’m still not quite used to it… “Now,” Natasha continued. “You told me that your sister is ‘rolling in money from her CPA job’…Why don’t you just ask her for help? She’s your sister and I’m sure that she would love to help you if she knew that you were in need. She seems like a pretty cool girl, too. I saw you two at graduation…” “Yeah,” I muttered. “She visited me a month ago to watch me graduate. At least my parents congratulated me over the phone…” Natasha nodded. “She seemed pretty nice, though. You’re both twins, right? You get along with her?” I slowly nodded. “Yeah. We both grew up together! Then we grew apart during college…” “But she visited you! Your sister actually cared enough to fly from Philadelphia all the way to Cleveland to watch you graduate. Girl, don’t you think she still cares?” I folded the $100 and stuffed it in my pocket of my grey jogging pants. I then shoved another now liquidy spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream in my mouth. “My sister only did that as a polite gesture,” I told her. “If she really cared, wouldn’t she check in on me now and then?” Before I could even finish saying the word “then”, my cell phone vibrated with the song “Shallow” playing. (This song was both I and my sister’s favorite song in high school) The caller ID read “Jen” with a picture of her happily smiling below it. At this moment, I totally lost it. I began crying again. Knowing that my sister has heard me cry many times, I answered the phone. “Hello?” “Are you crying again?” Jen asked me. “I just wanted to check in on you since it’s been a couple weeks now. Now what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I sighed. “I thought that you didn’t care! Didn’t you just visit me as a polite gesture?” “Aw Jill…” she said in a voice that seemed to explode with sympathy. “You know that my level of concern for you far exceeds what you may think it does. Now I visited you last month because I love my twin sister and that’s what loving sisters are supposed to do.” “Why didn’t mom and dad come to the graduation?” I asked her. “Jill, we already discussed this. They didn’t want to come to your graduation. They didn’t come to mine either. I offered to pay both times, but they refused my offer. I don’t know what they have against either of us. Despite that being the case, we have to love them back. After all, they were the ones that raised us!” I sighed. “I think it’s the money…We’ve always been poor…” “But look at us, Jill! We both have college degrees and I am now on my fourth month at an amazing accounting firm.” “So you’re just going to gloat about your new job? Jen, I thought you were going to check up on me!” Natasha gasped and left the room. I guess she wanted to give my sister and I some privacy. Thanks I guess? “Jill, I am not gloating. I am very happy about the success that I achieved. And I want you to be happy about your success too! You graduated Magna Cum Laude from Cleveland State University!” “Sis, you graduated Summa Cum Laude! A year ahead of me with a Masters that your cushy accounting firm paid for. That same firm that you interned at! And now you got a cushy job there! Meanwhile, I am having failed interview after failed interview. They are favoring men over me! I guess an anchorMAN is better than an anchorwoman, huh? I thought we were past all the sexist crap…Besides…” I lost it again and burst into tears. “Jill, you’re crying again! What is pulling you into despair?” “What is pulling me, Jen? I’ll tell you!” I raised my voice. “My landlord…um lady…knocked on the door and wanted the rent tonight. I thought that I paid it! But it looks like that I didn’t. $950! I checked my banking app. All that I had was $20.89. She didn’t want it. She wanted it all in cash. Now if I don’t give her the money tomorrow, she will evict me and seize all the belongings in my apartment. She will only return them once I pay the rent in full. So go back to your perfect life!” “Perfect? Jill, you have no idea of the tribulations that I experienced today. Work was very stressful…” “Work? It must be a lot of stress to make all that money…” I sarcastically retorted. “You’re absolutely right Jill! It is! Now, I had no idea of the financial turmoil that you’re going through. And before you reiterate your crackpot sexist theory back to me, I have the perfect rebuttal. On four out of the five local news channels that I perused, I saw women news anchors. Not men, Jill. Women! You need to come out here, Jill. The northeast is more progressive and liberal. They don’t see any glass ceiling for us. Plus, most of the CPA’s that I work with are women. There are a few men in our group, though.” “So, how do you propose I come out?” I whined. “Earth to Jen! I’m broke! I have $145,000 in college debt and owe the landlady $950. How do you expect me to come out there with a plane ticket to move to Philadelphia. And the other problem would be a place to stay. Now, where would I stay.” “Jill, you would stay with me! My apartment is a 3 bedroom. I’m not using the other two rooms for anything. They are still empty. Okay. Not quite. Just a few of my extra belongings…I will take you in. You need to get out of Cleveland!” I sighed as I looked at the Mint Chocolate chip ice cream. “Just two more problems, Jen. One: my rent. And two: a plane ticket to Philadelphia? Now my roommate had pity on me and gave me $100, but that’s not going to be enough for either expense.” “Jill, just let me help you! I will pay for your rent and your plane ticket. I will buy a round trip ticket for me and a one-way ticket for you. You’re going to get a job out here, Jilly Bean. I will be out tomorrow afternoon, with $950 to pay your landlady for another month. Sound good?” I was now crying my eyes out. I never knew that my sister could be so loving and kind! “Oh, thank you!” I joyfully weeped. “You don’t know how much this means to me…” “Oh, but I do Jill!” Jen told me. “I’m your twin sister, remember? We’re two halves of one whole. I could feel that something was wrong with you tonight before I called you. That’s a twin thing. It’s like having a best friend, only waaaaaay better…See you tomorrow! Love you!” “Love you, too.” I told her. The call ended and I wiped the rest of the remaining tears out of my eyes. I then guzzled the rest of the thick and syrupy mint chocolate chip ice cream liquid and wiped off the sticky residue with my hands. Natasha came out of her room and smiled. “I heard some of the conversation but not all of it. Now girl, look at me again…” Well, I’m in a better mood now. So okay…I looked at Natasha and stared at her. “Yes Natasha?” “I was right!” she told me. “Your twin sister really does care about you and love you! And she just proved it!” She then proceeded to pat me on the shoulder. “It looks like the good Lord is looking out for you…” I shrugged my shoulders. I guess he is…I dug into my jogging pants pocket and pulled out the $100. “Do you need this back? My sister is paying my rent tomorrow and taking me to Philadelphia to live with her.” “Keep it!” Natasha pleaded. “It’s the least that I can do in your situation. Now, are you just going to have ice cream for dinner? I can order us some food. You don’t have to pay me. I got this, girl…” I nodded. “Thanks Natasha.” The rest of the evening was okay. Natasha ordered a pizza with my favorite toppings. They happened to be her favorites, too. Either that, or she was just being nice. A supreme pizza cooked to perfection. We were both so hungry that we ate all but two slices. As I was finishing my last slice, Natasha gave me that stare again, so I stared back. “Jill,” she addressed me. “Or Jillian?” “Only my mom calls me that,” I sighed. “Jill is fine…” “Jill then…” Natasha continued. “It was very nice having you as a roommate. Granted we were busy and we didn’t see a lot of each other, but I wish you the best. I have an interview in Columbus next week and if I get the job, I’m moving down to Columbus. This apartment will be vacant again. You will have to sign a release and pay another fee to get out of your lease early. I believe that our lease doesn’t come up until August.” “I will just have my sister pay it,” I told her. “I don’t want to take advantage of her, but I’m broke right now…Oh. Good luck on that interview! I hope you get it!” Natasha smiled back at me. “Thanks Jill Pill!” “Ha…” I grinned. “I can remember a few friends in high school calling me that…” To those of you still following the story, not much more happened that evening. I shed my t-shirt and jogging pants and slept in my bra and panties. And I just…slept. Yeah. That’s it. if you think you’re going to get more information than that reader, sorry. This is my story, and I will spare some of the unnecessary details, like my snoring or anything else that you don’t need to know about. You’re probably wondering “Jillian, when are you going to get to the diapers?” Doncha worry, my little besties. I will get to how I started wearing them very soon. I just needed to get to my departure from Cleveland first. I can actually remember sleeping really well that night. I felt so happy that my sister really cared about me. But finding a job was something that I really needed to do. Now my sister TOLD me that female anchors were more common in Philadelphia. I closed my eyes and fell asleep, hoping that she was right…

Chapter 1: The Morning That Changed Everything Kris woke up in the middle of the night. He felt the need to use the bathroom, which was a good thing for him. He actually woke up this time! Kris hated the fact that he was a bedwetter. He doesn't know when or how it started; he only knows that every morning, he wakes up to a wet bed. So, for him, waking up in the middle of the night is a miracle. He quietly got out from under his covers and started climbing down the ladder of his bunk bed, which he and his older brother, Kyle, shared. Shockingly, he managed not to wake his brother this time. Nearly every night, if Kris tries to get out of bed to get cleaned up, his brother wakes up, confirms that Kris peed himself, then falls back to sleep annoyed at the interruption. That in of itself wouldn't be too bad. If only Kyle would leave it at that. But no, Kyle goes out of his way whenever this happens to ensure Mom and Dad knew that Kris had an accident. So, to get away this time felt amazing, even if there wasn't an accident. He wouldn't have to confront his brother about it. Kris snuck out of the shared bedroom, past the girl's room across the hall, and went down the stairs to the bathroom, sitting at the bottom on the right. He did it! He made it to the potty in the middle of the night! Good thing, too, because he had to poop as well. Which was probably the reason he woke up this time. He hardly ever needed to do that so late in the evening. Proud that he managed to make it in time, Kris snuck his way back upstairs and into his bed, all without waking up anyone. He felt so proud of himself, he knew that tomorrow was going to be a good day. He would wake up to a clean bed in the morning, and hangout with his friends at Church in the afternoon. Kris loved that it was a Sunday. He knew his Mom would make a delicious breakfast for them all to enjoy. He wasn't a huge fan of going to Church every Sunday. It always felt boring to him. Playing with his friends before and after service started was always a blast, but sitting through the sermon felt like a chore. He woke up feeling excited to take on the day. Only, something didn't seem right. He was confused; why did it feel like his bed was wet? He made it to the bathroom last night, didn't he? He must have just had to go a second time without realizing it. he was frustrated that he had still managed to have an accident, wishing his trip to the toilet would have been enough to save him from his usual daily embarrassment. He started to remove his comforter so he could get out of bed and deal with his accident like he had done thousands of times before when suddenly, an odd sensation hit him like a ton of bricks. "No. I didn't. That's not fair," Kris thought, as he realized with confusion that he pooped himself in his sleep. He didn't get up to go to the bathroom; it was all just a dream. A cruel, unfair dream. Kris looked down and around his bunk briefly to check if Kyle had seen him start getting up. Maybe he could wait until he left their room and get cleaned up afterward. "Let's go, dude. Breakfast is on the table," Kyle called up to his brother from below his bed, as he finished putting on his socks for the day. "I'll be down in a minute," Kris replied, trying to remain calm. He tried to play things cool, acting as natural as he could. He hoped he could buy some more time, convincing his brother that everything was okay. "Well, hurry up and get dressed," Kyle replied impatiently. He knew Kris was a slacker, and would sleep in another two hours if they let him. "I'm gonna take a shower first." Kris tried to come up with an excuse as to why he would be late to breakfast. Knowing that if he went down in soiled pajama pants, his Dad would be furious. "Why?" Kyle shot back. They normally took showers in the evening. Kris saying he would take one first thing in the morning was odd. Unless, he had another accident. "He wet himself again. Didn't he?" Kyle already knew the truth. He was so frustrated sharing a bedroom with his little brother. He had been wetting himself for years now, and never really got the hang of nighttime training. He couldn't stand the fact that their room always smelled of urine. He's eight years old for crying out loud. Sam wasn't even wetting the bed anymore and she was six! "I just wanna take a quick shower, is all." Kris knew his brother probably saw through his lie by now. But held onto hope, that just maybe he would let this one slide. "You had another accident, didn't you?" Kyle poked, already knowing the answer. "...Yeah" Kris replied defeatedly. "Maybe he won't find out about how bad it is." Kris knew that he was busted. At this point, he just wanted to hide, and save himself from further embarrassment. "Just get changed. You can take a shower after breakfast if you really need to." Kyle was annoyed that he had to share a room with such a baby. "I'd really prefer to take one first." Kris's face burnt red as he blushed. He knew he was out of luck. There was no way his brother didn't know the current state of his situation at this point. "Why? It's not like you pooped yourself like a baby." "Oh my gosh, is that what that smell is? I thought he just farted or something." Kyle's face scrunched up in disgust. Kris just remained silent, not wanting to reply. His family has a strict no-lying policy, so he couldn't say he didn't, but he didn't want to admit it. *sigh* "I'll let them know you'll need an extra few minutes. But hurry up," Kyle told Kris, realizing what had happened, and that Kris would never admit to it. "Thanks..." Kris felt broken. He was grateful for his brother, thinking he would cover for him. But, the humiliation of his brother's words, and the state of his pajamas made him feel small and foolish. He thought he made it. He thought his parents would be proud of him for staying dry, but instead of just wetting his bed, he used it like a toilet. Chapter 2: Morning breakfast conversations Kris took the fastest shower of his life. He wanted to clean up this mess before anyone else had the chance to find out. He was lucky that the girls were already downstairs by the time he left the room, and the bathroom being at the bottom of the stairs was an added bonus saving him from the potential humiliation. His shower over, Kris bundled up his soiled and soaked pajamas into a ball. He hoped he could sneak them back upstairs before anyone saw them. He could get them cleaned later, first thing was not to let anyone find out. "Kris! Hurry up, bud. We are waiting on you," Kim, Kris' mom, shouted from the kitchen after hearing the bathroom door open. "Okay, I'll be down in a second, just need to put my pajamas back real quick," Kris replied, knowing he had to hurry before someone saw his clothes and questioned deeper on why he took a shower in the morning. "Don't!. Just put them in the laundry room. I'll get them washed later today." His mom replied. "That's odd? Normally, she has us all bring down all the laundry at once. Does she already know about my accident, or was she just trying to save me on time?" Kris knew he couldn't argue; he wanted to, but it wouldn't make sense. He might be able to play it off as him grabbing the rest of the laundry, but knowing the family was waiting on him to eat breakfast wasn't likely to work. Frustrated with the situation, he quickly took his bundled-up clothes and speed walked past the dining room to get to the back of the house towards the laundry room, hoping no one saw his soiled pajamas. Kris returned to the dining room, sitting in his usual spot next to his dad, across from his brother, with his younger sister Sam on his right. Everyone was in their usual spots. Something felt different. It felt like they were all looking at him, judging him. He hoped it was all in his head, but there was no way for him to tell. He was already self-conscious about what happened earlier with his brother. He knew he was a little late to breakfast, too, but that was nothing new; it was a common occurrence for him when it came to weekends. "French toast, yum! Thank you, Mom," Kris tried to distract himself with the world's best breakfast in his mind. His favorite part was covering his French toast in powdered sugar. It might be super unhealthy, but he didn't care. He was eight years old. He just wanted to eat something yummy. "Are we all ready to dig in?" Kim asked, making sure Kevin, their Dad, was ready to give the okay. He ran the house, so what he says goes. "Yep, let's dig in," he replied, grabbing his utensils and the first few slices from the stack of toast in the middle of the table. Everyone quickly followed suit to get their food. Kris had his classic white circle from all the powdered sugar around his plate. Kevin, seeing everyone enjoying the meal, and getting a few slices in his belly, decided to start some morning chatter. "So, how did everyone sleep?" "I slept great!" Tammi, the oldest of the four, started everyone off. She normally felt silenced due to their family dynamic; with "men running the house," so anytime she got a chance to speak up and be first, she wanted to take it. She wanted to be a role model for her siblings, especially for her younger sister. "I slept like a baby!" Sam chimed in next. Her words felt like a sharp pain in Kris's ears after his brothers comment this morning. His cheeks burned red with embarrassment at the remark. "I had this really cool dream. Do you wanna hear it?" She was the youngest, and always excited to go off on these wild dreams. Her imagination was hyper active, which made it easy for her to play by herself or with Kris at times, but also made for the longest stories ever. "Not right now, honey. Let's wait until everyone else goes first. Then, you can tell us all about it." Kevin told her. He didn't want to break her spirit about it, but he also knew once she got started, it might take an hour before she would finish. "Okay! How about you, Kyle? How did you sleep?" Sam poked, trying to get everyone through so she could share her story. She knew Kyle would be quick; he wasn't one to go into his dreams or be boring and talk about other things. "I slept okay," He replied. Kris could feel his heart racing. It nearly felt like it was trying to pound out of his chest. He was terrified at the thought that Kyle would tattle on him. Kyle nearly did every time he had an accident, it was almost like it was his mission to tell Mom and Dad whenever it happened. Would today be the same? "That's great. How about you, Kris? Did you sleep well?" Kevin knew Kyle was a young man with few words. He wanted to get to Kris, who he was wondering about. He had a feeling Kris had an accident this morning, otherwise why else would he have taken a shower so early in the day? Kris noticed a slight smile on Tammi's face. Kyle had his head down, looking at his food, and a small head shake. Kris had a feeling Tammi had found out what happened last night. He didn't know for sure, and wasn't about to admit to everyone at the breakfast table that he pooped himself last night. He didn't even want to admit when he wet himself, so this was a hundred times worse, he'd rather take this secret to the grave if he could. "Uhhh... Yea! I slept well. I even managed to wake up last night to go to the potty," Kris felt proud of himself, he knew he still had an accident last night, but the thought that he had made it to the bathroom, gave him a feeling of accomplishment. He might have thought it was a dream, but he also had no way to tell for sure if it was or not. "Liar! No, you didn't. Not even close. You pooped yourself in your sleep." Kyle snapped back, mad that his brother refused to own up to his accidents. "Kristopher!" Kim, shouted at him. The girls practically spat out their food at this reveal. They knew he wet the bed, he did it nearly every night without fail. But pooping himself? Only babies did things like that. Everyone was a little shocked that Kris didn't just own up to it. He normally tried to hide his bed wetting, but this was different, instead he tried to lie about it and claim he used the potty in the middle of the night. "Is this true?" Kevin's face was stern. He was mad that Kris would lie about this. Kris knew how he felt about lying. Normally, Kris would own up to having an accident, even if he wet himself on purpose, he would admit it. So why not this time? "Yeah..." Kris replied, defeated. There was no recovering from his brother's accusation. Kris could see his Dad was furious with this information. "What is up with this kid!? He uses his bed like his own personal toilet. This is insane!" Kevin thought. He was at his wits end with Kris's bed-wetting issue. They've talked about it hundreds of times, each one he claimed: "he didn't know what happened." "Dude! What happened?" Kevin was clearly irritated. "I don't know," Kris replied sheepishly. He really had no idea why he kept wetting the bed. He thought he did wake up in the middle of the night, but he couldn't dispute the fact that he woke up soaked, and covered in his own poop. "That's not acceptable." Kevin was livid at this point. He's had to buy several packs of underwear for Kris, each one to replace the pair he ruined from all his accidents. "I don't know why Daddy, I just didn't wake up." Kris sank in his chair slightly. He didn't know what to do or say. "Didn't wake up, huh? It sounds like he just didn't want to get up. How can this kid be so lazy and okay with peeing himself?" Kevin couldn't stand Kris's behavior. "So instead, you thought you'd lie about it and say you 'used the bathroom'?" Kevin wanted the truth out of his son. He wanted him to see the error of his ways, and that lying about it was wrong. He should know better. He needs to know better. Unsure how to answer, Kris just sat there in silence. *sigh* "Fine, let's go clean it up. You're going to watch how this is done. I'm sick of cleaning your bed for you. You're not a toddler anymore, and I'm too old for this." Kevin instructed Kris "Okay." Kris knew he was in trouble. But he didn't know what to do. It's not like he meant to poop himself in bed. All he knew was his dad was mad, and to not make things worse if he could avoid it. Chapter 3: The clean-up "Strip your bed. Everything needs to come off of it to clean up this mess." Kevin instructed his son. He left to get the spot shampooer from the cleaning closet, while Kris began to pull off his wet and soiled bedding. He felt a small tear forming in his eye. He never meant to make a mess; he didn't want this to be a part of his life, but it seemed like he had no choice in the matter. He felt completely humiliated at the situation he found himself in. That dream felt so real; he was positive he made it to the bathroom. "Did you get everything off?" Kevin spoke, breaking Kris's train of thought as he returned with the shampooer. "Yes, sir." Kris wanted to be as respectful towards his Dad as he could. Maybe, if he were lucky, his Dad wouldn't be any harder on him than he already was. "Good, now come here and watch how you get this thing ready." Kevin set the shampooer on the floor, placing the cleaning solution next to it. He didn't want to keep doing this, and after throwing out his old mattress, he didn't want to buy a new one either. Kris walked over to his Dad, standing next to him as his Dad poured the cleaner into the shampooer. "Only fill it to this line with the cleaner. The rest is warm water," Kevin instructed. "I don't want to have to keep doing this." Kris stood there in silence, slightly nodding at his Dad's words. "When will you grow up and stop peeing in your bed?" Kevin asked rhetorically. He knew Kris wasn't going to reply, and even if he did, it would just make him mad. Again, Kris didn't reply. How could he respond? It's not something he is in control of. *Sigh* "I guess that was more of a rhetorical question anyway. Alright, stay here and watch." Kevin positioned Kris in the doorway of his bedroom. He still had a rough line of sight but couldn't see too much of what his Dad was doing. "You really did a number on it this time. Not only did you soak it, but you managed to smear your poop so much it seeped through the sheets and onto the mattress." It was clear to see the look of disgust on Kevin's face. Kris felt embarrassed at his Dad's remark. He was used to feeling embarrassed whenever they talked about his accidents, but hearing his Dad's words while watching him clean up after his mess only made him want to hide behind the door frame. "I'm sorry," Kris said sorrowfully, looking down at his feet. "Sorry for what? Treating your bed like it's your own personal toilet?" Kevin snapped back, pausing his efforts to clean up the mattress. There was nothing he felt Kris could say that would make things better. Kris had no reply. He just stared at his Dad. He knew he couldn't say anything. He never intended to wet his bed; he never thought of it as a toilet, but there was no way his Dad would believe him. Not when he was mad like this. Five minutes into the cleaning process, Kris noticed his Dad had shifted focus from where most of the damage was done to a more whole-bed approach. Kris felt a little relief that this soon would be behind them. However, he also noticed that he had a growing pressure building up in his bladder. He needed to pee soon. He didn't want to interupt his Dad, but he also didn't want to stand here, bored, forever needing to pee. "Daddy?" Kris spoke up over the noise of the shampooer. "What?" Kevin switched off the machine to listen to what his son had to say. His tone made it clear he was still angry. "Can I go to the bathroom?" Kris asked sheepishly. He wanted to get out of this, but more importantly, he wanted to relieve himself. "Really? No apology, just asking to go to the bathroom after what you did to your bed?" Kevin thought to himself, upset at the thought that his son just wanted to get out of watching him clean up his mess. "Why don't you just go in your bed? After all, you seem to think it's a bathroom anyway." Kevin snapped back at his son in frustration. He couldn't believe he had the guts to try and get out of taking responsibility for ruining his bed. Kris wasn't sure what to do. He stood there frozen, afraid that he would just make things worse. He could do what his Dad told him, but that didn't make sense. His Dad was cleaning his bed, so he couldn't use it. Even if he did, he would be mortified to do so. He wanted to use the toilet. His other option was just to stand there waiting for his Dad to change his mind. Hopefully, he would. Each second there was silence between them felt like an eternity. The longer he waited to reply, the more likely he would make his Dad angrier. Trying to avoid making his Dad further upset only made this decision and his dad's comment all the harder. What is the right decision? Is there a right decision? "He's cleaning my bed. I can't go in it. Should I pee my pants instead?" Kris thought, torn on what he should do, not wanting to say a single word as that might upset his dad even more. "Well?!" his dad asked angrily. "You're just trying to get out of watching how to clean this up. Either hold it until we are done or pee your pants like the baby you've been acting like." Kevin had enough at this point after years of trying to get him dry during the night. His occasional daytime accidents didn't help. Especially since it was done on purpose each time. When confronted about it, he would admit he peed or pooped his pants on purpose either because he didn't want to stop playing or to try to get his siblings in trouble. It might have been a while since the last time that happened, but it felt like it was yesterday with all of his nighttime accidents. Kris blushed. Kyle calling him a baby was rude, but he could brush it off. Hearing it come from his Dad stung a little harder. He hoped he could hold it, but with all of the embarrassment and pressure from his dad, he wasn't sure. He felt he had to pee pretty bad, but was that because he did, or was it because he was trying to find a reason to avoid his dad for a little while? Kevin climbed off the ladder rather than starting to get back to cleaning. Kris felt his heart skip a beat as his Dad approached with the shampooer. "I need to empty this thing." He held up the shampooer. Kris could see the dirty tank on the shampooer; its water looked yellowy brown. He hadn't realized that his accidents had caused that much damage. "Stay here. You are not to leave this spot until I get back," Kevin instructed his son. "Okay," Kris replied. He wanted to follow his Dad, taking the chance to go pee. He was trying his best to hide the fact that he was starting to do a little potty dance. If his Dad had noticed, it would only make things worse and annoy him even more. Kevin left the room, leaving Kris alone with his thoughts. None of the other kids came over to check on him. Even having a conversation with Kris might have caused their Dad to get more upset, and no one wants to get switched. Just the thought of the plastic rod being used to spank them, was enough to send a shiver down their spines. Kris felt a huge pressure lift from his shoulders. His Dad's exit from the room gave him the chance to breathe. Kris wasn't sure if he was going to be punished or not today for what happened or if this was going to be the worst of it. All he knew was the sooner this could be over, the better. "Alright, this should be the last batch. Do you want to do it this time?" Kevin asked as he walked back into the room. Hoping his son would take responsibility this time. "Can I use the bathroom first?" Kris asked. He felt he wouldn't be able to hold on too much longer. He wasn't sure why his bladder was acting up so much, he just knew that he had to go, and he didn't want to shampoo his bed. *Sigh* "You're just trying to get out of doing work again. No. You can hold it until we are done. This will only take a few more minutes; wait here and watch." Kevin wasn't buying the fact that his son had to use the bathroom. He noticed his "potty dance" but wasn't buying that it was real. Kevin climbed back up the ladder to Kris's bed and started shampooing again. "I don't know if I can hold it much longer," Kris thought. Kris was doing his best to hold it in, he didn't want to do a potty dance, but he couldn't help himself. He placed his hand between his legs, trying to hold it in. Kevin was doing his best to ignore it. He knew if he addressed it, he would lose it, blowing his top off and yelling at Kris. He didn't want to do that, he was trying to not be a jerk, but the situation was really pushing his limits. Kris wasn't hopping from foot to foot but was shifting his weight from foot to foot now and then. Just enough to try and help, but not enough to become annoying. Kris kept trying his best, but after several minutes he reached the breaking point. He felt a small squirt of pee make its way to his pants. Dampening his underwear. It hadn't leaked through to his pants, but he knew he couldn't take it anymore. Another spurt quickly followed; afraid he was going to wet himself; Kris spoke up. Asking one more time would be better than just wetting himself in front of his Dad. "Daddy!" Kris shouted over the shampooer so his dad could hear him. "What now!?!" Kevin shouted back at his son as he turned off the shampooer. The pure anger on his Dad's face and the tone of voice used, full of anger and frustration sent a shiver down Kris's spine. It was too much for him. He was so scared; he lost his ability to speak, and... *hiss* He lost his control and started peeing his pants uncontrollably. "Dude!" Kevin shouted, "You've got to be kidding me. What are you two?!" Kevin lost it at this point. He quickly climbed down the ladder and walked over to his son. With how angry he was, he looked like he was ten feet tall and could bend a building in half if he wanted to. He grabbed Kris by the wrist and started dragging him toward the bathroom. Kris felt the tight grip on his wrist. He stumbled here and there, trying to keep up with his dad as he was pulled along. Kris felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He had no idea what would happen now. All he knew was this was the maddest he had ever seen his dad so far. "That's it, I've had enough. Fine! You want to pee yourself like a baby. You'll wear a diaper like one, too!" Kevin's shouting was heard throughout the whole house while he pulled Kris toward the bathroom. Kris's eyes were huge hearing this. His Dad threatened to put him in diapers before, but this was the first time it seemed like he was serious about getting them. Chapter 4: To the Store "Take a shower and get yourself cleaned up," Kevin told Kris, slightly tossing him into the bathroom. He felt furious that Kris would pee his pants like that. Kevin closed the door behind him, giving Kris some time to collect himself and clean up. "Unbelievable. He peed his pants. What is wrong with him? Yeah, he said he had to go. I bet he peed himself on purpose, hoping to get out of needing to finish cleaning his bed." Kevin's thoughts ran wild. He knew he was angry and likely wasn't thinking straight, but he followed through with what he told his kids. If they were throwing a fit at the store, they'd leave everything behind and go home until they learned to behave. He wanted them to learn that their word is their bond. Knowing he spoke out of anger didn't change the fact that he said he would get Kris diapers. Kris felt devastated. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the wet patch running down the front of his pants. He never felt more embarrassed in his life. He had wet his pants a few times after potty training, but that was either in the snow so no one could tell or when he didn't want to stop playing. This was the first time he accidentally wet himself in a long time. His Dad looked so angry. He'd never seen his Dad like that before. All he could hope for now was that the time it took for him to take a shower would be enough for his dad to calm down. "Kyle, go grab some clothes for your brother," Kevin spoke coldly. He wasn't going to let this instance with Kris affect the way he treated the others, but he also knew they needed to leave sooner. The quicker they all got ready, the better. "Girls, could you get the Bibles ready? We're heading to Church a little early today. We need to make a stop first." "Okay, Daddy!" both girls replied, quickly getting up from the couch and preparing for Church. Their family attended a small home-based church with about five families. They found that there was more community that way. Church service started at 11 a.m. on Sundays, and it was currently 9:10 am. The drive usually only took 30 minutes. Giving them only 30 minutes or so to shop if they left by 9:30 or 10. "Kris, you better hurry up with that shower. We're leaving for Church in 30 minutes. If you're not out in 15, I'll come in there turn off the hot water," Kevin said, trying to incentivize him. Kris quickly hopped into the shower and gave himself a quick but thorough cleaning He didn't know how long it took, all he knew was his Dad hadn't came in. So it must have been under 15 minutes. Stepping out of the shower, Kris heard his brother, Kyle, knock on the door. "I got you a change of clothes." "Thanks, be there in a second." Kris felt grateful that his brother had gotten him some clothes to change into. He quickly dried himself off, and opened the door a crack to grab the clothes. Luckily for him, it looked like Kyle had picked something he would enjoy wearing. Kris got dressed and sat on the toilet for a few moments, trying to calm down from the craziness this day turned out to be. Kris's moment of peace was short-lived as he heard another knock on the door. "Don't forget to use the bathroom before we leave. I don't want you peeing yourself while we are at the store." Kevin spoke briefly on the other side of the door. He wanted to hit the road soon. He always hated it when they were late. In his mind, if you're on time, you're late. "I will," Kris felt numb to his Dad's remark, already feeling destroyed for the day. The jabs felt like nothing; he was already miserable, and no one could make him feel any worse. He flipped up the lid on the toilet and tried to get anything and everything out. But nothing came out except for a few small farts. Not wanting to delay them, he quickly finished up and got ready to leave for Church. Kris opened the bathroom door and looked around, trying to see if his Dad was around. Not seeing any sight of him, he ran over to his mom. "Why are we going to the store before Church? I thought shopping was next week?" Kris hoped the reasoning wasn't what he thought it was. "I don't know, bud. Dad wants to make a quick stop before we get to Church this time," Kim lied. She knew that Kevin finally lost it and wanted to get Kris diapers, but she didn't have the heart to tell him. She secretly hoped that Kevin would just drop the subject but knew that wasn't likely to happen. Kris knew he was on the smaller side for his age, weighing only 46 lb. and measuring 3ft 8 inches. He was mad that he got placed back in a booster seat; now, he and Sam were both stuck in them. For a short while, he was able to go without them, finally feeling like the older brother to his sister, despite his accidents. The roll back to a booster seat, was a huge shot to his ego. The laws had changed to be based on weight or height limits instead of age, so he had no choice in the matter, yet another thing stolen from him. With everyone ready, the family started to pile into the car. Kris crawled into the back seat next to his younger sister, Sam. Even though he often had trouble buckling himself in, he could still manage it himself. "Everyone buckled?" Kevin asked from the driver's seat. "Yes," all the kids replied. Kevin was happy that all the kids managed to get buckled and settled in without issues for a change. He felt a small smile forming on his face. "Man, if only they behaved this well all the time," Kevin thought, but he knew they were only behaving because he was angry. The drive to the store was uneventful, which shocked Kevin. Normally, they have some type of argument, but it was total peace back there for a change. Kris sat in the back, trying to stay calm, but his nerves were getting the best of him. He didn't want to disappoint his dad or cause any more trouble. He just hoped that everything would be okay. Kevin pulled into a parking spot at the megastore. Kris tried to keep his anxiety in check as he unbuckled and made his way out of the car, following his family into the store. He knew that his dad was probably going to buy diapers for him. "Kyle, could you grab a cart for us, please?" Kevin asked, his tone softened. The drive over was enough of a break to take off the edge. Kyle wasted no time grabbing the cart and quickly ran back over with it. Kris followed his Dad and family into the store. He kept his eyes down, hoping no one would notice him. He felt small and vulnerable, like a little kid. He noticed that they were heading straight toward the baby section. His heart raced as his worst fear was becoming a reality. They were really going to buy diapers for him. He felt a lump form in his throat as they approached the diaper aisle. "Daddy, I don't need diapers," Kris said, his voice shaking a little. "Sorry, bud, I told you we would get them. Besides, your actions lately would say otherwise." Kevin replied, trying to sound gentle. "They'll be for you to wear at night, just in case. None of us want to keep cleaning your bed." Kris felt his face turn red. He didn't want to wear diapers like a baby. He knew he was a big kid. "Okay, let's see what we have here," Kevin began scanning the shelves, trying to find out which ones would fit him. He picked out a few different options. He found some nighttime pull-ups and some size 7 diapers that looked like they might do the trick, even if it was just to scare him into behaving better. "These should do the trick," Kevin handed Kris each box and package from the shelves he wanted to buy. He kept the selection semi-limited, only grabbing three different styles. Kris saw his sisters giggle slightly as he placed the box of size 7 diapers into the cart. He felt tears forming in his eyes. He didn't want to wear diapers. He wanted to be a big boy like his siblings. He knew that his dad was doing what he thought was best for him. Even if it made Kris feel embarrassed and small. As they checked out and headed back to the car, Kris kept his head down, hoping that no one would notice the boxes of diapers in their cart. He felt ashamed and humiliated. He knew that his dad loved him, but days like today made it a little hard for him to be close to him. He tried to focus on the thought of playing with his friends when they got to Church, but knowing that the diapers were easily visible in the back of their Suburban made him feel nervous that someone would see it. Chapter 5: Stressed Out Kris tried to keep his emotions under control as they pulled up to the home where their Church was held. It was a small, cozy place with a white picket fence and a large backyard. Kris was relieved to see that all of the other families were already there. There was no way anyone would see the diapers then, as they were the furthest away from the house at this point. He had a feeling his Dad was upset that they were late, but he couldn't see any signs if he was or not. Kris grabbed his things, including his Dad's bible, racing his younger sister down the stairs around the side of the house. They had a friendly competition between them over who could get into the house the fastest. They always had to slow down slightly as they approached the sliding glass door, not wanting to damage it or the host family's home. Entering the house, they set their bibles on the seats. They wanted to play with the other kids, but before they got the chance, they heard the other parents call them back to get ready for service to start. Kris felt disappointed; he had hoped he would have gotten a chance to play a little bit, at least before service started. His family joined them shortly after the kids returned and took their seats. Kris wanted to be frustrated, but he knew he was the cause of their lateness. With everyone in their seats, the service started. Kris's heart sank as they took prayer request for the week. He couldn't believe his ears when his Dad asked for them to pray about Kris's bedwetting problem. Kris wanted to sink away in his seat, to just disappear. One of his friends at Church knew about his issue, but that was because they had sleepovers all the time. Out side of him, he didn't think any of the other kids knew about it. He had to fight his emotions to just run away and hide, as he heard some of the other kids giggle, quickly being hushed by their parents. Kris knew he could do nothing about the situation. He tried to bury his face into his bible, and song book every chance he got. He followed along with the lesson like he always did. Zoning out mostly, he joined, singing along with the songs, but everything else felt like a bore. Before he knew it, the service was over, and the families were chatting about their week. It was one of the things they did to connect a little bit more. Kris both enjoyed and hated this part. He counted how many families were left before they were finally done. But every time it got to them in the past, he would get excited. He loved it when his parents talked about him and his siblings. They normally just talk about the good highlights, which always makes him feel special. He felt his anxiety rise as his Dad started to talk about their week. He was worried that he would talk about his bed wetting again. He was shocked that his Dad hand't brought it up again. Kris was relieved that service was finally over, but he felt tired. Everything was stressing him out, and the boredom of service didn't help. He wanted to just leave and go home, forgetting this nightmare ever happened. Unfortunately for him, his parents wanted to stick around for a while, chatting with the other adults. Kris began panicking. Would the other kids pick on him for wetting the bed? Would any of them find out about the diapers? He couldn't stop thinking about the box of diapers in the car. He felt embarrassed and ashamed as if he was somehow less of a person because he needed them. "Hey Kris! You wanna come play with us?" Breaking from his thoughts, he was hesitant, worried they might just want to pick on him. Play house or something and make him the baby. Kris looked at his friend, who had broken him out of his worries. It was Ben. Ben had already known about his accidents, so there was no way he would be planning something. Pushing his worries aside, Kris ran over to play with his friend for a while, distracting himself. Kris felt normal as he played with the other kids. No one said anything or even implied anything about his bed-wetting. He thought one of his siblings would have said something, but it seemed like they were content just having fun with the other kids. "Time to clean up." Kris heard his Mom call down the hallway. He felt bummed that they couldn't play longer but was happy he at least got a chance to have some fun before they had to leave. He grabbed his things and his Dad's bible, just like when he came in. Walking out the door and heading back up to the car was less of a race. Kris suddenly felt his Dad's hand on his shoulder, standing behind him. "You okay, bud?" He asked reassuringly. His Dad wasn't angry anymore. Kris could see a genuine interest in him, and how he was doing. Kris nodded, but he wasn't feeling okay at all. He felt ashamed for needing diapers, and he was sure that everyone knew it. Kevin placed his hand on Kris's back and gently nudged him on. "Come on, let's go home,". Kris climbed into the backseat of the car, feeling small and defeated as his eyes made contact with the box of diapers in the back. He buckled himself in and watched as his family got settled in the front. They drove away from Church. Kris couldn't shake the feeling that he was different from everyone else. He didn't want to be a burden, but he couldn't help feeling like he was. Kevin glanced back at Kris in the rearview mirror. "Hey, I know this is tough," he started. "But you did great at Church today. We'll get this bedwetting thing under control in no time, okay?" Kris didn't respond. He just looked out the window, trying to hold back tears. He knew that this wasn't going to go away overnight. He wanted it to, but he had no control over the situation. Kris was glad when they finally got home. He took his bible inside. He thought his parents were going to make him take the diapers in the house as well, or take them upstairs, but they hadn't said anything. Exhausted from the lack of sleep and from the emotional turmoil of the day. Kris decided he was going to take a nap. He normally didn't like taking a nap, not even in the car, but today. He needed it. He made his way upstairs, and climbed up into bed. His mattress was still slightly damp from cleaning it. Not wanting to get cold, he grabbed an extra blanket he kept in their closet, and placed it down on the mattress. He lay there, staring up at his ceiling. He had posters up for different events they went to. He felt lost, and alone. Like no other kid knew what it was like to be like him. He felt he was the only one in the world with these issues. But, as he lay there, he remembered that there are millions of other kids all around the world. There had to be other kids like him. He knew there was no way he was actually alone. Even with how his Dad acted, he knew he still loved him. Slowly, he started to feel a little better. He knew that things wouldn't be easy, but he also knew that he had his family to help him through. He closed his eyes, tired of thinking, tired of remembering, tired from being tired, and slowly drifted off to sleep. Little did he know, it was a bad idea to have fallen asleep... Chapter 6: Not Again… Kris shifted in his bed, slowly waking up from his nap. Stretching his arms up after getting some much-needed shuteye, he froze, reality shattering in with the awareness of another bedwetting episode. "Not again," Kris thought to himself. The familiar scent of his embarrassment was in the air. He climbed off his ladder, connected to his top bunk, and over to his dresser after yet another accident. Trying to hide his shame. "This is the third time today." Kris thought with defeat. "This isn't fair; I don't want to wear diapers." Kris opened his dresser drawer to get a new pair of underwear and clean pants. "You can't be serious," He whispered while looking through the drawers, franticly looking for some fresh underwear and pants, only to find none. Not even the pair of pants he usually doesn't wear. "Where are they?" Kris changed his focus to the dirty laundry, but there was nothing there either. Kris begins to tear up. "No. It's not fair. Where are they? I can't even find pajama pants." While Kris was sleeping, Kim asked Kyle to grab all his pants and underwear. This way, if he had an accident, he wouldn't be able to hide and lie about it. Feeling flustered on what to do, Kris stood there, contemplating the next steps. The thought of going downstairs in his soaked pants made his stomach churn with embarrassment. The alternative, staying upstairs to avoid the potential judgment from his family, seemed equally daunting. It would only be a matter of time before someone came up to check on him; then what would he do? After an internal debate, Kris took a deep breath and decided to face the consequences. He carefully headed down the stairs, each step accompanied by the hushed rustle of fabric. As he approached the bottom, a knot of anxiety tightened in his chest. Kris's older brother, Kyle, was in the living room with the rest of the family, engrossed in the TV. As Kris cautiously emerged, Kyle's eyes widened, and a mischievous grin played on his lips. "Hey, Kris! Nice pants! Did you have a little accident?" Kyle called out, his voice carrying through the room. A flush of embarrassment painted Kris's cheeks as he attempted to play it cool, doing his best to shield his pants from prying eyes. The living room fell silent, the TV momentarily forgotten as the family turned their attention to Kris's descent. "Seriously, Kris? Did you pee yourself?" Tammi, his older sister, chimed in with a teasing tone. Kris winced but nodded reluctantly, "Yeah, okay, I did. Can we not make a big deal out of it?" The silence lingered briefly before erupting into laughter and an onslaught of teasing from the family. "Dude! Did you forget how to use the bathroom or something?" Kevin, his father, spoke up, feeling frustrated. Kyle added, "Good thing we got you those diapers, Kris! Looks like you can use one right about now." "No..." Kris began, his voice trailing as he realized he had no ground to stand on with his current state. His shoulders slumped in defeat. His attempt to argue back was halted by the reality of his soaked pants and the amused expressions of his family. He shot a glare at Kyle, who was reveling in the moment. Sensing Kris's distress, Kim stepped forward; concern etched across her face. "Come on, Kris. Let's get you cleaned up." She motioned for him to follow her. As they retreated to the bathroom, Kris couldn't help but complain, "Where did all of my pants go? I couldn't find anything!" Kim sighed, understanding the frustration in Kris's voice. "I asked Kyle to gather your clothes, sweetie. These accidents are just something we're going to have to work through together. Hiding them won't help." Kris shot back, "But it's embarrassing! I don't want everyone knowing!" Kim knelt to Kris's eye level, her tone soft but firm. "Honey, we're a family. We support each other. You're not alone in this; we're here to help you. Now, let's focus on cleaning you up, and then we can talk about how to make things a bit easier for you, okay?" Kris simply nodded, still having a heavy heart. As Kim started helping Kris change into dry clothes, she suggested, "Maybe, for now, you could try wearing one of the diapers we got. It might help avoid these situations, and you'll know what it'll feel like later tonight." Kris's face scrunched up with reluctance. "A diaper? Mom, I don't want to wear diapers. I'm not a baby!" Kim looked at Kris, her eyes filled with empathy. "I know it's not ideal, sweetheart, but it could be a temporary solution while we work through this. You're not a baby; it's about finding a way to make things a bit easier for you. What do you think?" Kris hesitated, conflicted by the idea of wearing a diaper. He didn't want to give in to the teasing from his siblings, especially Kyle's recent comment. The thought of it made him feel small and helpless. "I don't know, Mom. I just don't want everyone to think I'm a baby," Kris muttered, looking down at the floor. Kim sighed, continuing to help Kris change into dry clothes. She spoke gently, "Kris, I understand this is hard for you, but wearing a diaper doesn't make you a baby. It's just a temporary measure to help you through a challenging time. Let's try it for now, and we'll work together to find a better solution." Kris remained resistant, his brows furrowed in frustration. "But Mom, I really don't want to. It's embarrassing, and Kyle just made that comment about diapers. I don't want to prove him right." "I know, Kris, but we need to find a way to manage this. The diaper is just a tool, and I promise we'll keep working on a more permanent solution. It's not about proving anyone right; it's about taking care of yourself." "I can't," Kris protested, his voice shaky. "I won't wear a diaper." Kim looked at Kris with a mix of empathy and determination. "Kris, I need you to understand that this is for your own comfort and well-being. We're a team, and as a team, we need to make decisions that are best for everyone. It's not just about what you want right now; it's about finding a way for all of us to get through this together." Kris sighed in frustration, feeling the weight of the situation. "Mom, I really can't." Kim, maintaining her resolve, looked directly into Kris's eyes. "Alright, Kris. I didn't want to do this, but if you don't wear the diaper willingly, I won't be able to give you any pants, and you'll have to go out with just the diaper on. It's your choice, sweetheart. Will you wear the diaper willingly or choose the second option?" Kris hesitated, realizing that his mom wasn't going to back down. Chapter 7: The Reveal Kris stood there, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he dreaded the idea of wearing a diaper, feeling like it would only magnify his embarrassment. On the other hand, the thought of not being able to wear pants and still needing to wear a diaper felt unfair. After a moment of tense silence, Kim broke the standoff with a gentle yet firm voice. "I understand this is hard for you, but I need you to choose. Will you wear the diaper willingly, or do we go with the second option?" Kris hesitated, feeling the weight of his decision bearing down on him. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nodded. "Okay, Mom. I'll wear it." Kim's face softened into a small smile of relief. "Thank you, Kris. I know this isn't easy for you, but I promise we'll work through this together." She reached over to the sink, where a package of pull-up diapers lay. "Now, there are two designs for you to choose from." Holding out the two different designs for him to see. "There's the Hulk, and the other is radioactive. Which one do you want?" Kris glanced at the designs, feeling a glimmer of amusement amidst his discomfort. "Um, I guess...the Hulk one." Kim nodded, setting aside the radioactive design. "Great choice! Let's get you changed into this; then, we can join everyone out in the living room. Dad has some exciting news he wants to share with everyone." As Kris pulled up the diaper, he couldn't help but notice how different it felt compared to his usual underwear. It was thicker and bulkier, and the sensation of it hugging his waist felt strange and unfamiliar. Despite his reservations, he found a small sense of relief in knowing that he would at least have a clean pair of pants to wear over it. Once he was dressed, Kim knelt to his level, her expression full of warmth and encouragement. "How does it feel? Is it comfortable?" Kris hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's...weird. But I guess it's not too bad." Kim smiled, relieved that Kris had agreed to wear the diaper. "That's good to hear. I'm sure it'll feel more comfortable as you get used to it." She handed him a pair of pants, and Kris eagerly slipped them on, grateful for the added layer of coverage. As he adjusted the waistband, he couldn't help but steal a glance at himself in the mirror, half expecting to see the diaper outline beneath the fabric. To his surprise, there was no obvious sign of the diaper's presence. It was hidden well under his pants. Kris felt a rush of relief wash over him, realizing that maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he had feared. Kim watched Kris with a knowing smile, seeing the relief wash over his face. She knew that Kris was still self-conscious about wearing the diaper, but she hoped that with time, he would come to see it as just another part of his routine. As they left the bathroom, Kim lightly patted Kris on the butt, a gesture of encouragement and support. "You're doing great, Kris. Now, let's go see what exciting news Dad has for us." As Kris walked ahead of his mom towards the living room, Kim couldn't help but notice the slight outline of the diaper beneath his pants. It was subtle, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't looking for it, but to Kim, it was a stark reminder of the challenges Kris was facing. She hoped that none of the other kids would notice. The last thing Kris needed was more teasing and embarrassment from his siblings, especially after Kyle's comment about him needing a diaper now. Kim's heart ached for her son, knowing how much he dreaded being the center of attention for something he couldn't control. As they approached the living room, Kris's steps slowed slightly, his worry noticeable in the way he glanced around nervously, waiting for his mom to catch up. Kim could sense his fears of his siblings' reactions. Sure enough, as they entered the room, Kris's fears were realized. Tammi and Kyle were sitting on the couch, their eyes lighting up with mischief as they spotted Kris. "Hey, look who's here! It's diaper boy!" Kyle exclaimed, a smirk playing on his lips. Kris's heart sank at the sound of Kyle's taunting voice. He felt a surge of frustration and embarrassment, knowing that his siblings were already making fun of him. "Knock it off, Kyle," Kris retorted, his voice tinged with irritation. "It's not funny." Tammi joined in with a snicker, "Yeah, I guess he's officially a baby now, huh?" "I'm not a baby!" Kris retorted, his voice trembling slightly with frustration. "I just...I had an accident, okay?" But Kyle and Tammi seemed unfazed, continuing to taunt Kris with smirks and snide remarks. "Aw, poor baby Kris," Kyle taunted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Need mommy to change your diaper?" Tammi chimed in, "Yeah, maybe we should start calling you Baby Kris from now on!" Kris felt a surge of anger boiling within him, his fists clenching even tighter as he struggled to maintain his composure. He wanted to lash out, to scream and shout at his siblings for their cruelty. But deep down, he knew that wouldn't solve anything. Instead, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm despite the overwhelming urge to retaliate. "You guys are jerks," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. As Kris fought to control his emotions, Kevin's voice boomed from across the room, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough!" His tone was sharp, his frustration evident as he glared at Kyle and Tammi. Kris looked up, relief flooding through him at the sight of his father stepping in. Kevin's eyes narrowed as he addressed his other children. "That was too far. Kyle, Tammi, apologize to your brother. Now." Kyle and Tammi exchanged guilty glances, their smirks fading as they realized the severity of their father's tone. "Sorry, Kris," they mumbled in unison, their voices barely above a whisper, gazing down, unwilling to look at him face to face. Kevin's stern reprimand seemed to deflate the tension in the room, and Kris let out a silent sigh of relief as his siblings begrudgingly offered their apologies. It was a small victory, but at least for now, the teasing had stopped. "Alright, now that is behind us," Kevin declared, his voice firm but calm. "I have some exciting news to share with all of you." Kris's ears perked up at the mention of exciting news, momentarily distracted from the lingering discomfort of the earlier confrontation. He glanced at his father, curiosity sparking in his eyes. Kevin's expression softened into a warm smile as he gestured towards the envelope in his hand. "Well, I ran into an old friend of mine the other day, and he offered us something pretty special." He paused for dramatic effect, relishing in the anticipation building among his children. "Tickets to Disney World." The words hung in the air, eliciting gasps of astonishment and excitement from Kris and his siblings alike. Kris's eyes widened in disbelief, his heart racing with anticipation at the thought of visiting the magical world of Disney. "Really? We're going to Disney World?" Kris exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement. Kevin nodded, his smile widening at his children's enthusiastic reactions. "That's right. We leave in two weeks." Kris could hardly contain his excitement, his mind buzzing with visions of thrilling rides and beloved characters. He glanced at his siblings, seeing the same spark of excitement mirrored in their eyes. Tammi let out a squeal of delight, imagining herself posing with her favorite princesses. Kyle grinned from ear to ear, eager to experience Disney World for the first time. Even Sam, being oddly quiet this whole time, jumped about with excitement. As the initial shock wore off, the room erupted into a frenzy of excited chatter and planning. Kevin watched with a sense of satisfaction, grateful for the opportunity to create cherished memories with his family. But amidst the excitement, Kris couldn't shake being nervous about wearing diapers at night now. The thought of exploring Disney World with his secret being left at the hotel for anyone to find weighs heavily on his mind. What if someone found them? Would his friends back at home find out? What would others think of him? Nevertheless, as he watched his family eagerly discussing plans and packing lists, Kris couldn't help but feel excited. This would be the first family vacation they have gone on, and to Disney World, no less! With that thought in mind, Kris was swept away in the excitement of the impending adventure, determined to make the most of every magical moment at the happiest place on earth. Chapter 8: Night One As dinner time approached, Kris's stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The smell of his mother's cooking filled the air, giving him a temporary sense of peace. He took his seat at the table, feeling the soft padding under his butt as he sat on the hard wooden chair. It was both comfortable, and awkward having this newfound softness added. Shortly after, his siblings gathered around as they eagerly anticipated their meal. "So, Kris," Tammi began, her tone teasing as she shot him a mischievous grin. "Do you think you'll be able to handle all the excitement at Disney World without having any accidents?" Kris felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his cheeks at Tammi's remark, his heart sinking as he braced himself for another round of teasing from his siblings. Before he could respond, Kyle chimed in with a smirk, "Yeah, I heard some of those rides can be pretty intense. Are you sure you won't need a diaper change halfway through?" Kris clenched his jaw, his fists tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. He desperately wanted to sink beneath the table, away from the prying eyes and taunting remarks of his siblings. But despite his frustration, Kris knew that retaliating would only fuel their teasing further. So, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to plaster on a fake smile as he replied, "Ha-ha, very funny, guys. I'll be fine, thank you very much." His words sounded weak even to his ears, but Kris refused to let his siblings see how much their teasing truly affected him. Instead, he focused on his dinner, silently praying for the conversation to shift away from his bedwetting struggles. "That's enough, you two!" Kevin's voice is firm and authoritative. "I just told you two to knock it off in the living room a minute ago. If you keep doing this, you'll get a spanking." His siblings fell silent under their father's stern gaze, and Kris breathed a small sigh of relief. He appreciated his dad's intervention, even if it was a temporary relief from their teasing. With the topic changed, the family was able to enjoy the rest of dinner without incident. Despite the anxiety bubbling in Kris's stomach, he managed to put on a brave face and join in the conversation, even mustering a few laughs at his siblings' jokes that weren't about him for a change. Once dinner ended, Kim instructed Kris and Sam to help clear the table. Kris nodded as he gathered up the empty plates. Sam skipped over to him, a cheerful smile lighting up her face as she grabbed a stack of dishes. "Come on, Kris! Let's race to see who can finish first!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she ran towards the kitchen. Kris chuckled, the tension easing slightly as he followed his younger sister's lead. He focused on the task at hand, determined to prove that he could handle the simplest of chores and beat his little sister. As they worked, Kris felt a familiar pressure building in his bladder. He glanced toward the bathroom, noting his need to go, but he also knew that helping his mom with the chores was important. Ignoring the discomfort, he continued to clear the table. But as the minutes passed, the urge to use the bathroom became too strong to ignore. Kris excused himself, intending to quickly relieve himself before returning to help Sam. However, as he made his way toward the bathroom, Sam's voice rang out behind him, her tone accusatory. "Hey! Where do you think you're going? We're supposed to be cleaning up together!" Kris paused, turning to face his sister with a sheepish expression. "I just need to use the bathroom real quick. I'll be right back." But Sam wasn't convinced, her brow furrowing in suspicion. "Mom! Dad! Kris isn't helping!" she called out, her voice carrying through the house. Kris's heart sank as he watched his parents enter the room, their expressions questioning. "I just need to use the bathroom real quick." He told them, hoping they would understand. Kim's face softened with understanding, but Kevin's expression remained stern. "Alright. Hurry up and come back to help," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. With a nod of gratitude, Kris rushed to the bathroom, relief flooding through him as he used the bathroom. But even as he relieved himself, he couldn't shake the sting of embarrassment at being accused of shirking his responsibilities by his younger sister. While washing his hands, he couldn't help but notice that the pack of nighttime diapers that were in here earlier was gone, nowhere to be seen. Even looking under the sink and trying to find them, nada, they were gone. As Kris returns to help Sam with the dishes, he tries to push aside the embarrassment of the earlier incident. However, unbeknownst to him, his attempt to discreetly readjust his pants wasn't as successful as he hoped. The diaper's edge peeked out from the waistband, visible to any onlookers. While walking back from the bathroom and heading towards the kitchen, Kris could see his two older siblings out in the living room. Unwilling to make eye contact, he quickly rushed past to get back to help. Tammi and Kyle kept quiet, not wanting to test their dad, but looked at each other and gave a small snicker, seeing the diaper sticking out of the back of his pants. Back in the kitchen, Sam was absorbed in her task and didn't notice the diaper until she leaned over to place a plate on the counter. Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught a glimpse of the telltale edge. She straightened up, turning to Kris with a curious expression. "Hey, Kris," she whispered, a curious expression on her face. "Are you wearing a diaper?" Kris's heart skipped a beat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he glanced around to ensure no one else heard. Then, checking his back, he noticed his pants were down slightly, showing it off. His cheeks were now burning with embarrassment. After hesitating for a moment, he nodded sheepishly. At the same time, pulling his pants back into place. "Yeah, I am," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Sam's eyes widened with surprise, but she quickly composed herself and leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper, "Is it because of your accident earlier?" Kris nodded again, grateful for Sam's understanding and discretion. He didn't know how he would have handled it if she had teased him like his other siblings. "Don't worry," Sam whispered, her voice filled with innocence. "I won't tell anyone. It's our little secret." Kris's shoulders relaxed as he let out a sigh of relief. He knew he could trust Sam to keep his secret safe. With that weight lifted off his chest, he felt a newfound sense of comfort in their relationship. "Thanks," he whispered back, offering her a small but genuine smile. With the dishes cleared away, Kris and Sam joined the rest of their family in the living room. They settled down on the couch, enjoying the warmth and comfort of their home as they prepared for the rest of the evening. As they watched TV, Kris felt a sense of normalcy return, the tension from earlier dissipating with each passing moment. He chuckled at the antics of the characters on screen, feeling grateful for the distraction from his own worries. While relaxing, Kyle's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hey, Kris," Kyle said, holding out a bowl of popcorn. "Want to share?" Kris hesitated momentarily; he hated when the kernels got stuck in his teeth. Despite the teasing from earlier, Kris knew his brother didn't actually dislike him. With a small smile, he nodded and grabbed a handful. "Thanks, Kyle," he said, his voice sincere as he passed the bowl back to his brother. Kyle grinned back at him, their tension easing as they shared a bowl of popcorn while watching TV to end the day. As the evening wore on, the family went about their usual routine. They took turns showering and getting ready for bed, the familiar rituals providing comfort and stability amidst the chaos of the day's struggles. As Kris made his way upstairs to prepare for bed, he couldn't shake off the lingering discomfort from the events of the day. Despite the break from his siblings' teasing, the memory of his exposed diaper and their whispered conversations still nagged at him. How could he be so careless? Entering his room, Kris approached his dresser, intending to retrieve his pajamas for the night. However, as he pulled open the drawers, his heart sank as he realized they were still empty. "Mom must still have them," Kris muttered, his frustration rising as he realized he would have to confront his mother about it. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Kris made his way to his parent's room, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet hallway. He paused outside the closed door, hesitating for a moment before mustering up the courage to knock. "Mom?" Kris called out tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper as he knocked. The door creaked open, revealing Kim's tired but welcoming smile as she greeted her son. "Hey there, bud. What's up?" Kris hesitated momentarily, "Um, Mom, I... I need some pajamas," he stammered, his gaze dropping to the floor in shame. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the fact that he needed to ask his mom for clothes. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," she said gently, her voice laced with regret. "I completely forgot to give them back to you. Here, let me get you a pair." Kim momentarily disappeared into the room before emerging with a pair of pajamas. She handed them to Kris, her smile apologetic as she met his gaze. "Here you go, sweetheart," she said softly. "I'm sorry for forgetting. You can wear these tonight," she said while handing Kris the only onesie pajama he still had left. Kris hardly ever wears it, as it's a bit itchy. But he isn't about to argue, it's been a long enough day as is. "Thank you." Kris accepted the pajamas with a grateful but exhausted smile. "Do you need a new diaper too?" Kris's eyes got huge; he wasn't expecting his mom to ask if he needed a diaper so casually. He hesitated, his stomach churning with discomfort. He glanced down at the clean diaper he was wearing, feeling a surge of embarrassment at the thought of his mom thinking he might have had an accident in it already. "N-no, I'm okay," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "This one's still clean." Kim nodded understandingly, though Kris could sense a hint of concern in her eyes. She didn't press the issue further, offering him a reassuring smile as she ushered him off to shower. "Alright, sweetheart. Just let me know if you need anything. Even if it's in the middle of the night and it leaks, okay?" she said gently, her hand resting on his shoulder comfortingly. The weight of his mother's words settled heavily on his shoulders. The idea of his diaper leaking in the middle of the night sent a shiver of anxiety down his spine. He nodded silently, unable to find his voice as he swallowed back his fears. "Okay, Mom," he finally managed to murmur, his voice barely audible as he forced a weak smile. Kim's expression softened, her hand giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. Now go take your shower and get ready for bed. You'll feel better after a good night's rest," she encouraged. Kris nodded again, offering his mom a small but appreciative smile before stepping into the bathroom. As he closed the door behind him, he leaned heavily against the sink, his mind racing with worries and doubts. He couldn't shake off the worry about the possibility of his diaper leaking in the middle of the night. The thought of waking up in a wet bed, embarrassing himself further, sent a shiver down his spine. Pushing the thoughts to the side, Kris opted to get his shower done and over with. It's been a long day, and they have a trip in two weeks that he can't wait for. 13 nights until they leave. As he emerged from the shower, Kris wrapped himself in a towel, his thoughts consumed by the uncertainty of what lay ahead: would he have accidents at Disney World? Are the rides really scary? What will the plane ride be like? It's his first time, after all. He dried himself off mechanically, his movements automatic as he tried to push aside his fears. His fingers hesitated as he reached for his clothes, hovering uncertainly over the diaper. Did he really need to put it back on? Then he glanced at the onesie pajamas his mom had given him; why did she have to pick those of all the sets he had? Seeing the pair made him feel even more like a baby, a stark reminder of his vulnerability. With a heavy sigh, Kris reluctantly slipped into the diaper and his pajamas, feeling the scratchy fabric against his skin as he struggled to adjust to the annoying sensation. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being exposed and the helplessness of having his accidents and the solution to them on display for everyone to see. How did this day go so wrong? But despite his misgivings, Kris knew he had no choice but to soldier on. With a resigned sigh, he climbed up his ladder to his bunk upon reaching the top, a reminder from earlier in the day. No one cleaned up his accident from his nap. Kris hung his head low as he climbed back down his ladder to ask his mom for help yet again. "What's up, dude?" Kyle asked as he was crawling into his bottom bunk. "My bed is still wet from earlier," Kris responded, giving up on trying to hide anything at this point in the day. He just wanted to go to sleep and forget all about this day. "You didn't clean it up yet?" "No." "Dad just showed you how to earlier. Why didn't you just clean it up?" "I didn't think about it; I kind of forgot about it with everything that's happened today." "What's going on, you two? Lights should have been out by now?" Kevin came over to check in on his two boys. "Kris's bed is still wet from when he peed himself earlier today," Kyle told his dad nonchalantly. *Sigh* "Alright, grab the shampooer you're doing it this time." Kevin told Kris while looking annoyed but drained at the same time. Not nearly as angry as he saw him last time they cleaned his bed. Kris quickly left their room and went downstairs to get the shampooer from the laundry room. Luckily for him, it still had some cleaner in it from last time. "Do you remember how to use it?" "Yes, sir," Kris replied as he started up his ladder. "Good, hurry up and get it cleaned up. I'll be back in a minute with a towel you can put down and a new set of sheets." Kevin instructed Kris as he left the room. Tired and just wanting to be done with the day, Kris rushed in to clean the bed. Spraying down the cleaner, then using the nozzle to suck up the mucky yellow grime and bubbles laden in the fibers. The two scents swirled together, creating an unpleasant combination but leaving behind at least a milder scent on the bed. Once finished to the point where the bed was at least acceptable to lay in, he climbed down his ladder and set the shampooer to the side of their bed. He didn't want to return it downstairs. He was done and just wanted the night to end. He then stood in front of the ladder, waiting for his father to return with the promised towel. Kevin returned a moment later with a fluffy towel tucked beneath one arm and a new pair of sheets in the crook of his other. Looking to the shampooer, he tossed the towel up on the top bunk while reaching for the machine, he dropped the sheets to the floor. "Make the bed, and go to sleep." His father said as he exited the room without glancing at Kris. Not wanting the night to drag on any longer than it had to, Kyle got out of bed and helped Kris make his bed by handing him his sheets and a new blanket. "Night dude," Kyle told his brother, as he turned off the light and got back into bed himself, pulling up the novel he had been reading. Exhausted from the day, Kris felt himself drifting off to sleep, his worries and fears momentarily forgotten in the embrace of slumber. Chapter 9: New Routines A few days had passed since the family's decision to use night diapers for Kris. The household had settled into a new routine, one that involved Kris needing to greet his mom and siblings downstairs in the morning before he could get changed and take a shower. It was frustrating, needing to ask for his clothes each day as if he couldn't be trusted to clothe himself without trying to hide something. For Kris, these days were a mix of relief and anxiety. The diapers offered a sense of security, knowing he wouldn't wake up in a wet bed. The mornings were particularly challenging for Kris. As he woke up, he would gingerly check his diaper, his heart sinking at the realization that it was wet once again. He would silently curse himself for not being able to control his bladder like a normal kid—a constant reminder of his predicament, a fact that was not lost on his siblings. Kyle and Tammi had toned down their teasing, at least in front of their parents. Still giving Kris a knowing look or smirk on occasions whenever he had to ask for clothes or the topic of his bedwetting came up. On the other hand, Sam kept her promise and never mentioned Kris's diapers to anyone else. He was grateful for her loyalty, even if it didn't completely erase his embarrassment. However, the worst part came when he had to face his family at the breakfast table. He could feel their curious gazes lingering on him, their unspoken question hanging in the air. Was he dry this time? He ignored the whispers and glances, focusing instead on his breakfast. Despite his efforts to ignore it, Kris couldn't escape the sensation of his wet diaper as he sat down to eat breakfast. The crinkle of the diaper seemed louder than ever. Every shift in his seat brought a new awareness of the soggy padding between his legs. As he picked at his food, Kris felt shame and frustration. He hated the way his family tiptoed around the topic of his bedwetting, their sympathy only serving to highlight his embarrassment. He longed for things to return to "normal," to wake up in a dry bed and not worry about diapers or accidents. Across the table, Kris could sense the curious glances of his family, their eyes flickering briefly in his direction before hastily averting their gaze. He knew what they were thinking, even if they didn't say it out loud. He was the diaper boy now, the one who couldn't even control his bladder, just like a baby. After he finished breakfast, Kris sat in the lingering discomfort of his wet diaper, waiting for his siblings to finish eating before he could change. His mom broke the silence, her voice gentle yet tinged with concern. "Kris, how did you sleep, bud?" she asked. Kris shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Fine, I guess," he muttered, not wanting to admit that he'd been able to sleep more soundly through the night. His mom nodded, her expression softening. "That's good to hear. I know this is hard for you, but I'm proud of how you're handling it. You're being really brave." Kris forced a small smile, grateful for her words even as he felt a lump form in his throat. He didn't feel brave; he felt embarrassed and ashamed. But he didn't want to disappoint his mom, so he nodded, silently agreeing. As his siblings finished breakfast and dispersed to start their day, Kris pushed himself away from the table with a heavy sigh. He knew the routine by now: follow Mom to her room, get changed, and try to put on a brave face for another day. With a reluctant shuffle, Kris trailed after his mom, the weight of his soggy pull-up reminding him of his current reality with each step. His heart sank as he entered her room, feeling the familiar mix of embarrassment and resignation wash over him. Kim turned to him with a gentle smile, her eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Let's get you a change of clothes," she said softly, motioning for him to come closer. Kris hesitated momentarily, the knot of shame tightening in his chest. But he knew there was no use fighting it; the sooner he got changed, the sooner he could enjoy the rest of his day. With a resigned nod, he approached his mom, feeling like a little kid again, as she helped him pick out his clothes for the day and directed him toward their bathroom to get cleaned up. Despite the tenderness of his mom's actions, Kris couldn't shake the lingering sense of humiliation that clung to him. Each moment spent in that room felt like an eternity, a reminder of how different his life had become. Before, he would have loved to have story times; now, with his predicament, this room just meant he was a baby needing to rely on his parents. After changing out of his wet pull-up, Kris left his parents' bedroom, trying to shake off the feelings of embarrassment that still clung to him. He was determined to enjoy the day and joined his siblings for some schoolwork. Kris felt a sense of normalcy as they worked through their lessons. Being homeschooled meant he could focus on his studies without the added pressure of dealing with teasing or judgment from classmates outside of his siblings. He was grateful for this small comfort, even as he struggled with his bedwetting. After finishing their schoolwork, their mom gave them some free time, and Kris decided to relax by watching TV with his siblings. As he sat on the couch, the familiar comfort of their family room surrounding him, Kris felt himself beginning to relax. However, as the afternoon wore on, Kris felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. Despite trying to stay awake, he soon found himself dozing off. As Kris dozed off on the couch, his siblings exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of concern and mischief. "I think he's asleep," Kyle whispered, nudging Tammi with his elbow. Tammi raised an eyebrow. "Should we wake him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Kyle shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Nah, let him sleep. The last time he fell asleep, he wet himself. Maybe this time, he'll learn his lesson." Tammi stifled a laugh, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. It's his fault if he wets himself again." Engrossed in the TV show, Sam was oblivious to their whispered conversation. She sat on the floor, eyes glued to the screen, unaware of her siblings' scheming. A few minutes passed, the room filled with the sound of the TV and Kris's soft snores. Suddenly, Kris jolted awake, a look of panic on his face. He felt warm wetness spreading in his crotch and realized with horror that he was wetting himself. Jumping up from the couch, Kris dashed for the bathroom, his siblings' laughter ringing in his ears. He could feel the wetness soaking through his pants, the shame burning hot on his cheeks. With all his might, Kris ran, hoping to make it to the bathroom in time to finish. Kyle and Tammi watched from the couch, their laughter growing louder as Kris hurried away. Sam, finally noticing the commotion, turned to see Kris's retreating figure, confusion clouding her face. "What's going on?" she asked, looking between Kyle and Tammi. "He wet himself again," Kyle said, barely able to contain his amusement. "Looks like he didn't learn his lesson after all." Tammi giggled, shaking her head. "I can't believe he did it again. What a baby." Sam frowned, feeling a pang of sympathy for Kris. "That's not very nice, guys. It's not his fault." Kyle shrugged. "Maybe not, but it's still funny." Tammi and Kyle exchanged a glance before getting up from the couch and following Kris to the bathroom. They stood outside the door, their whispers barely concealed. "He's such a baby," Tammi muttered, rolling her eyes. Kyle chuckled. "I know, right? How hard is it to control your bladder?" Kris was too late. He stood frozen, a trail of pee leading from the bathroom door, dribbles marking his path to where he stood, a growing puddle forming at his feet. Shame washed over him in waves, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he heard the mocking voices on the other side of the door. "He must really like the smell of urine because he can't go one day without peeing himself!" Kyle teased from the other side of the door. Tammi bursting into laughter only made Kris feel worse about the situation. Why did they have to follow him over, just to tease him? "I can't believe this is happening again," Kris thought, his heart sinking with each passing moment. He knew the teasing would only intensify now. With a heavy sigh, he forced himself into action, his movements robotic as he hurried to clean up the mess. Grabbing a nearby towel, Kris knelt down, wiping up the puddle on the floor with shaky hands. He felt the weight of his wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin as he worked, the humiliation of the situation nearly suffocating him. With each swipe of the towel, he tried to erase the evidence of his latest accident, but the shame lingered, staining him from within. Once the floor was somewhat dry, Kris turned his attention to himself, hastily wiping his legs dry with the towel before discarding it into a growing pile of wet clothes. Wrapping another towel around his waist, he tried to shield himself from the prying eyes of his family, though he knew it was futile. As he stood there, his heart heavy with embarrassment, Kris couldn't help but wonder when this nightmare would end. Outside, Kim noticed the commotion and walked over, her brow furrowed with concern. "What's going on?" she asked, looking at Tammi and Kyle. Kyle smirked. "The baby had another accident," he said mockingly, earning a stern look from Kim. "Kyle!" she said, exasperated by his attitude. Inside the bathroom, Kris's heart sank. He knew there was no way to hide his accident now. He slowly peeled off the towel, ashamed, and looked down at his pants. They were soaked, the wetness clearly visible. Defeated, Kris opened the bathroom door and stepped out, avoiding eye contact with his family. He knew he had to ask his mom for new clothes. There was no way to hide what had happened. Kim's heart ached with frustration as she saw Kris's situation. She knew how embarrassed he must feel. "Come here," she said gently, leading him away from his siblings. Once they were out of earshot, Kim crouched down to Kris's level, her eyes full of compassion. "It's okay, sweetheart," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "Accidents happen, and it doesn't make you any less of a big kid." As Kris stood there, his wet pants clinging uncomfortably to his skin, he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face in his mom's shoulder, his body shaking with the weight of his emotions. "I-I heard them," Kris choked out between sobs. "Kyle and Tammi... t-they were making fun of me. They called me a baby... they said I liked the smell of urine..." Kim's heart clenched at the pain in her son's voice. She held him tighter, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Oh, honey," she murmured, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that. You're not a baby, sweetheart. You're just going through a tough time, and it's okay to feel upset about it." Kris sniffled, trying to compose himself. "But it hurts, Mom," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "It hurts when they say those things..." Kim nodded understandingly, brushing away his tears. "I know, honey. It's not fair, and it's not right for them to tease you like that. You're being so brave, and I'm proud of you. Don't let their words make you feel small." Feeling a surge of protectiveness, Kim made a mental note to have a serious talk with Kevin about Kyle and Tammi's behavior. No sibling should ever make their brother feel ashamed like this. But for now, Kris needed comfort and reassurance. Kim took a deep breath, holding her son at arm's length so she could look him in the eye. "Listen to me," she said firmly, her voice gentle yet firm. "You are loved, you are valued, and you are not alone in this. We're a family, and we stick together, no matter what. If anyone dares to make fun of you again, they'll answer to me. Understand?" Kris nodded, his eyes wide with gratitude. "Th-thank you," he whispered, his voice quivering with emotion. Kim smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Anytime, sweetheart. I'm here for you, always." Kim held Kris at arm's length for a moment longer. With a tender smile, she gently nudged him toward the direction of her closet, where his clothes were located. "Go on, sweetheart, get changed." she encouraged him softly. Kris disappeared into his parent's master bathroom for the second time that day. Meanwhile, his mom reached for her phone. She dialed Kevin's number, her mind racing with everything that had transpired. He picked up after the second ring, his voice tight with concern. "Hey, what's going on?" "Kev," Kim began, her voice wavering slightly with emotion. "It's about Kris..." She recounted the distressing events that had unfolded, the hurtful words from Kyle and Tammi, and Kris's tearful reaction. Her anger simmered beneath the surface as she relayed the experience and remembered the words from Kris and his tearful little eyes. By the time she finished, there was a heavy silence on the other end of the line. She could almost feel Kevin's frustration radiating through the phone. "That's it," he said finally. "I've had enough of this. Those kids need to learn some respect, and if they won't listen to reason, then they'll learn it the hard way." Kim's heart skipped a beat at the intensity in her husband's voice. She knew he meant business. "What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Tell them," he replied, his tone unwavering. "Tell them that if they dare to make fun of Kris again, about his diaper, about his accidents, by calling him a baby, or anything along those lines. They'll be facing consequences. And not just any consequences – they'll be wearing diapers themselves. Let's see how they like it." Kim felt a surge of relief wash over her at Kevin's words. It was about time someone put their foot down and stood up for Kris. "I'll talk to them," she promised, her voice firm with determination. "They need to understand that this behavior is unacceptable." Chapter 10: You Were Warned Kim took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she knew she needed to have with her children. With resolve in her heart, she motioned for Kris to join her as she made her way out to the living room. "Kyle, Tammi, Sam," Kim called out, her voice steady but commanding. "Come here, please. We need to talk." The children gathered around. Their mother's serious tone piqued their curiosity. Kyle's eyes widened as he noticed Kris standing beside their mom, a flicker of apprehension crossing his face. "I spoke with dad about what happened." Kim's gaze shifted to Kyle, who squirmed under her gaze. His eyes grew wide, a mixture of nervousness and guilt flashing across his face. He had a sinking feeling that he was about to be in trouble. "I have something important to discuss with all of you," Kim began, her gaze firm as she addressed her children. "We've noticed some behavior towards Kris that is completely unacceptable. Teasing him about his accidents, his diapers—it's hurtful and unfair." Kyle shifted uncomfortably, realizing the gravity of the situation as his mother's words sank in. "Dad and I have decided that enough is enough," Kim continued, her voice unwavering. "Any teasing or making fun of Kris will not be tolerated. And if any of you choose to continue this behavior, there will be consequences." A tense silence filled the room as Kim's words hung in the air. Kris stood beside her, a sense of relief filling him up and refueling his spirit. "Consequences?" Tammi echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Yes," Kim affirmed, her tone resolute. "Your father has made it clear that if any of you continue to tease Kris about his accidents or his diapers, you will be wearing diapers yourselves. It's time to treat your brother with the kindness he deserves." Kyle's eyes widened in disbelief, the weight of his mother's words sinking in. He exchanged a nervous glance with Tammi, realizing that their actions had serious repercussions. "Understood?" Kim asked, her gaze sweeping over her children, her authority unyielding. The siblings nodded solemnly, a newfound understanding dawning on them as they absorbed their mother's words. "Good," Kim said, her voice softening slightly. "Now, I want each of you to return to your studies. We'll discuss this further later." The children nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. They dispersed, heading back to the kitchen table to resume their studies. Kim watched them go, a sense of relief washing over her. She hoped that her words had made an impact on them, especially Kyle, who had such a bad habit of embarrassing his younger brother. As the afternoon wore on, the house was filled with the sounds of pencil scratches on paper and the occasional rustle of a textbook page. Kris focused on his work, feeling a sense of ease as his humiliation ended. He knew his siblings' teasing wouldn't stop overnight, but he hoped his parents' intervention would make a difference. After another hour or two of studying, the front door creaked open, and their father's voice filled the house. "I'm home!" Excitedly, the children abandoned their books and rushed to greet their father. Kevin smiled as he was bombarded with hugs and stories about their day. He tousled Kyle's hair and praised Tammi for her progress in math. Sam clung to his leg, chattering away about her drawings. Kim emerged from the kitchen. "Welcome home, dear," she said, kissing Kevin's cheek. "Thanks, honey," Kevin replied, returning her kiss. "Smells like dinner is almost ready." "Just about," Kim confirmed. "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner will be ready soon." Kevin headed to the bathroom to freshen up, and Kim returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. The children chatted excitedly at the table while packing their school supplies, eager to tell their father about their day. Once dinner was ready, they all sat down to eat, the atmosphere light and cheerful. Kevin listened intently as the children recounted their day. Kris felt a sense of peace settle over him as he sat with his family, grateful for the love and support of his parents. As they finished eating, the clinking of utensils against plates gradually subsided, and a comfortable silence settled over the family. Kevin leaned back in his chair, a contented smile gracing his lips as he watched his children chat animatedly about their day. However, amidst the jovial atmosphere, he couldn't shake off the nagging concern that he had to address the incident from earlier. "You know, kids," Kevin began, his tone casual yet tinged with seriousness, "I overheard something earlier today." The room grew quiet as all eyes turned to Kevin, curiosity etched on their faces. Kris's heart skipped a beat, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks as he realized what his father was about to address. He had hoped his accident earlier would go unnoticed by his dad, but it seemed that wasn't the case. Kevin's gaze swept over his children, his expression solemn. "It seems that some of you were picking on Kris earlier," he continued, his voice steady but firm. "Making fun of him for wetting his pants." A heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuated only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. Kris's cheeks burned with embarrassment, his gaze fixed on the tabletop as he avoided his father's penetrating stare. He hadn't expected his dad to find out about his accident, let alone address it in front of the entire family. Kevin's eyes softened as he observed Kris's discomfort, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. He hated seeing his son squirm, knowing that he bore some responsibility for Kris's predicament. Kevin cleared his throat, his tone gentle yet authoritative. "I want to make something very clear," he began, his gaze shifting between his children. "Teasing Kris about his diapers, his bedwetting, having an accident, or anything like that is completely unacceptable." The children listened intently, their expressions a mix of guilt and understanding. "As a consequence," he continued, his voice firm, "if I hear of any more teasing or making fun of Kris, the offender will also be wearing a diaper. Is that understood?" The children nodded, their earlier joviality replaced by a sense of seriousness and respect. "Good," Kevin said, his tone softening. "Now, let's all pitch in and get everything cleaned up from dinner. We've got a movie to watch tonight." As the kids cleaned up the table and the dishes from dinner, Kevin headed to the living room to set up a movie for them all to watch. He rummaged through the movie collection, finally settling on "Spy Kids," a family favorite. In no time, the living room was filled with laughter and excitement as the kids gathered around the TV. They squabbled playfully over who would sit where eventually finding their spots on the couch or sprawled out on the floor. Kevin dimmed the lights, setting the perfect ambiance for a cozy movie night. As the opening credits of "Spy Kids" began to roll, the room was alive with chatter and anticipation. The kids traded playful jabs and teasing remarks, their earlier tension forgotten in the excitement of the movie. Kris felt a sense of relief wash over him as he settled in beside his siblings, grateful for the chance just to be a kid again. The movie played on, and the kids were soon swept up in the action-packed adventures of Juni and Carmen Cortez. They cheered and gasped at all the right moments, their laughter ringing through the room. However, in the scene where Juni calls Carmen a "diaper lady," Kyle makes a fateful mistake. In the midst of their playful banter, he turned to Kris with a mischievous grin and said, "I guess that makes you Carmen, huh Kris?" The room fell silent as Kyle's words hung in the air, the playful atmosphere evaporating in an instant. Kris felt his stomach clench with embarrassment and hurt, his cheeks flushing crimson as all eyes turned to him. Kevin's expression darkened as he glanced between his children, a stern frown marring his features. He had hoped that their earlier conversation would have made an impact, but it seemed that Kyle still had a long way to go in understanding the gravity of his words. "Kyle," Kevin said, his voice low and authoritative. Kyle's grin faltered, his earlier bravado replaced by a look of sheepishness. He glanced down at his lap, suddenly finding the rug pattern incredibly fascinating. "I'm sorry," Kyle mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Kris met his brother's gaze, seeing the genuine remorse shining in his eyes. Despite the hurtful words, he knew Kyle didn't mean any harm. With a small nod, Kris offered his forgiveness. Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to diffuse the tension in the room. "Let's just focus on the movie, okay?" he suggested, his tone gentle yet firm. The kids nodded, their earlier enthusiasm dampened but not extinguished. With a collective effort, they turned their attention back to the TV, immersing themselves once more in the world of "Spy Kids." As the end credits of "Spy Kids" rolled, the room was filled with a somber silence. The kids sat in muted contemplation, the earlier excitement of the movie night now overshadowed by the tension that lingered in the air. Kevin watched his children. His thoughts were weighed down by the realization that his threat hadn't sunken in yet. He knew he needed to address the situation before it escalated further. Sighing, he rose from his seat and motioned for Kyle to follow him. "Kyle, I need to talk to you for a moment," Kevin said, his tone gentle yet firm. Kyle nodded, his expression wary as he followed his father out of the living room and into the hallway. "Listen," Kevin began, his voice low but stern. "I need to talk to you about what happened." Kyle's brow furrowed in confusion, a hint of apprehension creeping into his features. "What do you mean?" "I mean your behavior towards Kris," Kevin clarified, his gaze unwavering. "Teasing him about his accidents and diapers is not okay. Your mom and I have made it clear that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated." Kyle shifted uncomfortably, a sense of guilt gnawing at him. He hadn't realized the impact of his words until now, seeing the disappointment in his father's eyes. "I'm sorry," Kyle said, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to hurt Kris. It was just a joke, you know?" Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand that, but thinking about how your words can affect others is important. Kris has been through a tough time, and he needs our support, not our teasing." Kyle nodded, his expression contrite. "I get it. I won't tease him anymore, I promise." "I'm glad to hear that," Kevin said, his tone softening. "But there's something else we need to address. As a consequence of your behavior, you'll wear one of Kris's pull-ups to bed tonight." Kyle's eyes widened in disbelief, a mixture of shock and embarrassment crossing his face. "What? But Dad, it was just a joke! He's fine!" Kevin shook his head, his tone firm. "I'm sorry, dude, but we must follow through. You need to understand the seriousness of your actions. I can't let you just get away with it. What would be the point in that, after what we just talked about at dinner?" Kyle reluctantly nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. They head back out to the living room, where Kevin instructs the kids to get ready for bed. The girls went upstairs while Kris headed toward their parents' room to get a pull-up and his pajamas for the night. Kris notices Kyle following him, which makes him feel a little uncomfortable. Kyle doesn't say anything as they wait for their parents in their parents' room. Kris looks at Kyle, unsure of what to say. He knows his brother is probably feeling embarrassed about having to wear a pull-up to bed, but Kris can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, knowing that Kyle is finally getting a taste of his own medicine. As Kris and Kyle wait in their parents' room, Kris feels a mix of emotions swirling inside him—relief that his parents are taking action against the teasing, the satisfaction that Kyle is finally facing the consequences, but also a twinge of envy that Kyle seems to be treated with more dignity at this moment. His thoughts are interrupted when he notices his mom grabbing two pull-ups from the package and handing one to each of them. Kris's surprise lingers as he takes the pull-up from his mom's hand, his eyes flickering between the diaper in his hand and the one in Kyle's. Before Kris could dwell on his thoughts, his mom interrupted, handing him some pajamas and ushering him off to get changed in their master bathroom. As Kris heads towards the bathroom, he hears his mom's voice directed at Kyle. "Go put it on and go to bed," she instructs her tone firm but not unkind. "You better wear it. I'm trusting you to be responsible. If you're not, there will be worse trouble." Kris can't help but feel a pang of envy as he listens to his mom's words. Despite the embarrassing situation, Kyle is being treated with a level of trust and responsibility that Kris hasn't experienced. It stirs up conflicting emotions within him—on the one hand, he's glad that Kyle is finally facing the consequences for his teasing, but on the other hand, he can't shake off the unfairness of the situation. As Kris changes into his pajamas and pulls on the pull-up, he can't help but wonder how this night will unfold. Will Kyle wear the pull-up to bed? Will their parents follow through with the consequences if he doesn't? And most importantly, will this finally end the teasing once and for all? Chapter 11: This is Unfair As Kris entered the bedroom, he found Kyle already in bed, engrossed in a book. Kris paused, unsure of how to proceed. He glanced at his brother, who looked up from his book, meeting Kris's gaze with a glare. "What?" Kyle snapped, his tone defensive. Kris hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He felt a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and a lingering sense of satisfaction at Kyle's predicament. He knew he should probably let it go, but the resentment he felt towards his brother was hard to shake. "Nothing," Kris muttered, avoiding Kyle's gaze as he changed into his pajamas. Kyle watched him, his expression unreadable. Kris could sense the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air. He knew he probably shouldn't say anything but was so tempted to. Kris cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. "So, uh, how well does the pull-up fit?" he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying tension, wanting to confirm his brother was actually wearing it. Kyle stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "What do you care?" he retorted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "I was just wondering," Kris replied, trying to keep his tone light. "I mean, it must be pretty uncomfortable, right?" Kyle's voice followed as Kris climbed up the ladder to his bunk bed. "You know, it's a little small. Must be because of all the extra padding they had to use for babies like you." Kris gritted his teeth, his hands tightening on the rungs of the ladder. "Shut up! It's not funny. If anything, it's because of your fat butt." Kyle's laughter echoed in the room. "You're such a baby. Always crying about everything." Frustration bubbled up inside Kris. "At least I don't tattle to Mom and Dad every time you do something wrong, like you do!" Kyle's face darkened, and for a moment, Kris thought he had gone too far. But then Kyle smirked. "Yeah, but at least I don't wet the bed like a toddler." Kris tried to think of a rebuttal, but Kyle wasn't finished. "I can't believe I have to share a room with a baby," he muttered. Kris took a deep breath, trying to control his rising anger. "At least I'm not a slob, like you." he shot back, unable to resist the jab. Kyle fell silent momentarily, and Kris thought he had finally gotten through to him. But then Kyle's voice came again, softer this time. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. "I shouldn't have picked on you as much as I have been." Kris was taken aback by the apology. He hadn't expected it, especially not from Kyle. "It's okay," he replied after a moment, his anger dissipating. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have called you fat or a slob." They lay in silence for a few moments, their tension easing. Finally, Kyle spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "Goodnight." "Goodnight," Kris replied, feeling a sense of peace settle over him as he hopped things changed for the better. As Kris lay in his bed on the top bunk, the events of the day played over and over in his mind like a relentless loop. He couldn't shake off the tension that had built up between him and Kyle, even after their brief truce. The next few nights were just as difficult for Kris. Sure, he managed to get away from anyone teasing him during the day. But his mind was reeling, tumbling with questions that only added to frustration after frustration. How long would that last? Why hadn't Tammi tried to pick on him? Was it because Kyle got in trouble? Did she even know about that? Would Kyle keep his word and lay off the teasing, or was this just a temporary ceasefire before the next round of mockery? And what about Dad's threat to diaper anyone who made fun of Kris? Would he follow through past the one instance with Kyle, or was it just an empty promise meant to scare them into behaving? Unable to sleep, Kris tossed and turned in his bed, night after night, his mind consumed with thoughts of how unfair everything seemed. He couldn't shake off the feeling of injustice within him. Why was he always the one who got called out in front of everyone? Why is it that when Kyle was called out, it was to the side where no one could hear? His sisters probably didn't even know Kyle was in a diaper! Why couldn't Kris have his clothes and the dignity to pick his own outfits? Instead, his parents stowed them away and chose for him. Deciding what he would wear, and when he could get changed. They wouldn't even extend enough trust to let him get changed in his own room, or the shared bathroom, making him use their master bathroom each time. Waiting, on the other side of the door to ensure he was listening to them. Just another nail in the coffin of his dependence on them. He thought back to how his parents had handled the situation with Kyle the night he was diapered. Replaying the events in his head multiple times. They had pulled Kyle aside after he broke their rule about teasing Kris. Kris couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. He didn't even know Kyle was getting diapered that night until he followed him to his parent's bedroom and got handed a pull-up. Why didn't he get the same level of consideration and trust from his parents? Why did Kyle seem to get special treatment? Kris's frustration grew as he dwelled on these thoughts. He resented asking for new pants and underwear every day, knowing none of his other siblings would have to deal with the same humiliation. He hated having to sit in his wet diaper first thing in the morning, feeling the discomfort and shame gnawing at him, just waiting for his parents to finally give him the dignity he deserved. Kris felt his spirit deflate as he woke up each morning in a wet pull-up. The discomfort and shame gnawed at him, a continual reminder of his situation. He couldn't help but think back to the one morning he woke up and found his pull-up had leaked. The embarrassment and humiliation flooded back as he recalled the wet sheets and the disappointed look on his mother's face. He wanted so badly to hide it from everyone, but in the end, he knew he stood no chance with all his clothes downstairs in his parent's room. He felt like he was failing. His parents tried to be understanding, but Kris could see the disappointment in their eyes. He knew they were trying to help him, but their attempts only made him feel more inadequate. He resented relying on them for everything, from changing in the morning to choosing his clothes for the day. He longed for the independence he once had, the freedom to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule. Amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, a glimmer of hope flickered to life. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better. Maybe Kyle would keep his word, Dad would enforce his ultimatum, and Kris could finally find indifference to his situation. However, nothing over these last several days had pushed anyone to the point of needing to be punished with his dad's threat. As the days dragged on, Kris knew the likelihood of his dad keeping with what he said and punishing those who teased him grew less and less likely. Chapter 12: Packing List Two weeks had passed since the incident that changed everything for Kris. In that time, he had grown accustomed to his nightly routine of wearing diapers to bed, though the discomfort and embarrassment still lingered. Waking up in a wet pull-up every morning made him feel so small. It was as if he was a toddler who couldn't control themselves. Needing to wait until after breakfast before he could get changed only added to his humiliation. What was the point in that anyway? At least the one morning when his pull-up had leaked, and he had to come down in wet pants, he could change before they ate breakfast. All of that was behind him now. Now they were packing for Disney World! There was nothing that could ruin it for him. Except, as Kris stood before his dresser, sorting through his clothes for the trip, Kris couldn't help but feel belittled yet again that he needed to ask for his clothes so he could make sure they were packed. As Kris approaches his parents to ask for his clothes, he feels a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. Hesitating at their bedroom doorway, trying to summon the courage to speak up. Finally, he clears his throat and steps forward. "Mom, Dad," Kris begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "Um, can I have my clothes back? I need to pack for the trip." Kim looks up from where she's folding laundry, her expression softening at the sight of her son. "Of course, sweetheart," she says gently. "They're in the closet. Grab whatever you need." Kris nods, relief flooding through him as he heads toward the closet. But just as he reaches for his clothes, Kevin interjects, his tone tinged with frustration. "Before you pack, I want you to take this," Kevin says, holding out a pack of pull-ups. "You need to bring these with you." Kris's heart sinks as he takes the pack from his dad. He had hoped to avoid this situation. "Do I have to?" Kris asks, trying to keep his voice steady. Kevin sighs, his frustration evident. "You know you do. We can't risk any accidents during the trip. Just take them and pack them in your suitcase." Feeling defeated, Kris takes the pack of pull-ups and his clothes back to his room to pack. He's grateful his parents are trusting him for a change to do something on his own, like packing for the trip. If someone else were doing it, he would be mortified to see what was packed once they arrived. But at least this way, he knows he'll have clothes he likes and actual underwear to wear during the day. As he re-enters the room, Kyle notices the pack of pull-ups in Kris's hand. "What's that?" Kyle asks, a smirk forming on his face. "Are those diapers for the baby?" Kris feels his face flush with embarrassment as he sets the package on his bed. "No, they're pull-ups, and they're for me," he mumbles while avoiding Kyle's gaze. "For you?" Kyle laughs, his voice dripping with mockery. "You're going to wear diapers to Disney World? That's so lame!" "It's not like I want to wear them!" Kris retorts, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "I have to wear them because of you!" "Because of me?" Kyle scoffs. "How is this my fault?" "If you hadn't told Dad about my accident, I wouldn't need these pull-up!" Kris snaps, his anger flaring. Kyle's smirk fades, replaced by a look of guilt. "I didn't think you'd end up in diapers," he says quietly. "Well, I did," Kris replies, tears filling his eyes. "And it's not fair!" "Hey, the good news is you should fly for free now, being a baby, after all." Kyle's attempt at humor fell flat as Kris's expression hardened. Kyle's attempt at humor cuts deep, his words twisting the knife of Kris's raw emotions. Feeling a surge of anger and hurt, his words began tumbling out before he could stop them. "You're just jealous because you don't get the attention anymore! You're nothing but a stupid, selfish bully!" Kyle's face contorts with shock and anger. "I'm the bully?" he shouts, hurt evident in his voice. "You're the one who's always crying and making everything about you! You're such a baby!" Kris's hand trembles with anger as he balls it into a fist. Mad that his brother kept calling him a baby. Figures Kris was right to suspect that his brother wouldn't keep his word. Without thinking, he swings, connecting with his brother's arm. Kyle winces, more from surprise than pain, as his words echo in the tense silence. "I'm not a baby!" Kris shouts, tears streaking down his cheeks. "I hate you!" Without another word, Kris turned and stormed out of their room. Stunned by his brother's actions, Kyle lets what just occurred sink in, and shock quickly turns to anger. "How dare he hit him!? How could he even begin to blame him for the predicament he's in? He is acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum! I bet he is going to go tattle on me, to try and get me in a stupid diaper again! I'll show him! If he wants to get me to wear a diaper, I'll make him wear them the whole trip. Show him who the baby really is!" Kyle thinks to himself. Fueled by anger, Kyle storms over to his brother's suitcase and unzips it. Without hesitation, he removes all of Kris's underwear. Tucking them under the bottom drawer of their dresser, knowing full well no one would find them until returning from Disney World. In his mind, Kris deserves this. He deserves to be treated like a baby since he can't act any better than a dramatic toddler. Kyle's anger simmers as he carries out his plan with cold determination. He takes Kris's suitcase downstairs, carefully concealing his actions from the rest of the family. With a sense of vindication, he hands the suitcase to his dad, who loads it into the car without suspecting a thing. Meanwhile, Instead of tattling on his brother, Kris opted to sit in the car playing on his handheld gaming console. He feared retaliation from his brother and getting tattled on himself for hitting his brother. Which he knew his parents found unacceptable, no matter what the reason was. Wanting to drown out the world, Kris sat there with his headphones firmly in place, attempting to block out the family, not wanting to get teased by anyone else or cause any more arguments. He was completely unaware of Kyle's schemes, forgetting about his suitcase entirely. Kim notices Kris is in the car, absorbed in his handheld, and taps on the window to get his attention. Kris, startled, looks up and removes his headphones. "Hey, bud," Kim says gently, "are you wearing a diaper?" Kris's cheeks flush crimson, embarrassment overwhelming him at his mom's question. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding her gaze. "Um, no," he mumbles, his voice barely audible. Kim nods understandingly. "I think putting one on for the flight would be a good idea. It's going to be long, and you might fall asleep. We don't want any accidents, do we?" Kris shakes his head, his embarrassment deepening. "No, we don't," he replies, sounding slightly defeated, as his self-esteem deflates slightly. Kris's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he shifts in his seat, avoiding his mom's gaze. "But, Mom," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "I don't want to wear a pull-up on the plane. Can't I just use the bathroom before we board?" Kim's expression softens as she gently squeezes Kris's hand. "I know this is hard for you, honey," she says softly, "but it's just for the flight. We don't want any accidents to happen, especially so high up in the air. Where you can't get to a clean pair of clothes, no less. Please, for me?" "I...I already packed the pull-ups," Kris says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're in my suitcase. I think I may have left it in my room." He glances back toward the trunk of the car, where their suitcases are neatly packed away. To his surprise, he sees his own suitcase already nestled among the others, the zipper securely closed. "Actually," Kris says, his brow furrowing in confusion, "my suitcase is already in the car." Kim nods, her expression sympathetic. "I understand. That was a new pack, we still have an open one in our room." Offering him a reassuring smile before motioning for him to follow her. "Come on, let's go get one for you." Kris nods, his heart heavy with embarrassment and frustration. He reluctantly follows his mom back into the house, wishing he didn't need to wear it. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to protest further, to run back to the car and ignore his mother's pleas, but there was nothing he could do. No one at this point would side with him, not with as many accidents he has had. Even a short nap wasn't safe from wetting himself. As they entered his parent's room, Kris couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the sight of the open package of diapers sitting on top of their dresser. He hates the reminder of his vulnerability, the constant need for protection from something as basic as using the bathroom on time. Kim reaches for a diaper, her touch gentle as she holds it out to Kris. "Here you go, sweetheart," she says softly. "I know it's not easy, but it's just for the flight." Kris takes the pull-up from his mom, his fingers trembling slightly as he holds it. With a heavy sigh, he heads toward the master bathroom, his heart sinking with each step. He hates this feeling of helplessness and inability to control his body. Entering the bathroom, Kris closes the door, shutting out the world outside. He stands in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with resignation and frustration. With shaky hands, he begins to undress, peeling off his pants and underwear. He hesitates as he reaches for the pull-up, his fingers hovering over the soft material. He didn't want to wear this on the plane. But what choice does he have? He can't risk having an accident on the plane, and he can't risk further embarrassment in front of his family, let alone strangers! With a heavy heart, Kris finally gathers the courage to put on the pull-up, sliding it up his legs and securing it in place. The familiar feeling of shame washes over him as he adjusts the pull-up, the crinkling sound echoing loudly in the silence of the bathroom. Once the pull-up is on, Kris takes a deep breath, trying to steel himself for what lies ahead. He knows this won't be easy, knows he'll have to face the mocking stares and whispered taunts of his siblings on the plane. But he also knows he has to do this. With one last glance in the mirror, Kris pulls back up his pants, opens the bathroom door, and steps out to meet his mom. As Kris exits the master bathroom, Kim notices the slight outline around his waistline, indicating the diaper underneath his pants. Concern etches across her face, but she approaches the situation delicately. "Kris, sweetie, are you wearing the diaper?" Kim asks gently, her voice laced with empathy. Kris's cheeks flush with embarrassment as he nods sheepishly, unable to meet his mother's gaze. He feels humiliated at the thought of his mom asking, as if she did not believe he would put it on. "Um, yeah," he mumbles, his voice barely audible. Kim's heart aches for her son, seeing the turmoil he's going through. Wanting to help ease his discomfort, she gestures for him to come closer. With a reassuring smile, she kneels down in front of him, her hands instinctively reaching for the waistband of his pants. "Let me adjust your pants a bit, sweetie," Kim says softly, her touch gentle as she tries to conceal the outline of the diaper discreetly. Kris feels a mixture of mortification and gratitude as his mom tries to help him, not realizing her actions only intensify his embarrassment. He stands frozen, his cheeks burning with shame as he watches his mom's futile attempts to hide the pull-up. Despite Kim's efforts, the diaper remains noticeable beneath Kris's pants, a constant reminder of his vulnerability. Kris's stomach churns with unease, wishing he could disappear into thin air and escape. Sensing Kris's discomfort, she offers him a gentle smile. "There, that's better," she says reassuringly, though she knows it's not. Kris forces a weak smile, his heart heavy with humiliation. "Thanks, Mom," he murmurs, his voice tinged with resignation and defeat. Kim rises to her feet, her heart heavy with worry for her son. She wishes she could take away his pain and make everything better, but she knows it's not that simple. All she can do is offer him love and support as he navigates this challenging journey. With a gentle pat on Kris's shoulder, Kim leads him out of the bedroom and back toward the car, determined to make the best of their Disney World trip despite his problem. As Kris and his mom walk out to the car, Kris can't help but notice the crinkling sound with each step. He can sense his siblings' eyes on him, their silent judgment hanging heavy in the air. Kris's face burns with embarrassment as he climbs into his booster seat, the outline of his pull-up visible through his pants. Without a word, everyone else piles into the car. As the car pulls from the driveway, Kris tries to focus on the passing scenery, but his mind is consumed with thoughts of his pull-up and what his siblings must be thinking. He can't shake the feeling of shame that continues to wash over him, battering him like the constant waves on the shore, a continuous reminder of his bedwetting problems. In the front seat, Kim glances back at Kris, her heart breaking at seeing her son's distress. Feeling his isolation and exposure, his secret now on display for everyone to see. The car ride is tense, the atmosphere thick with unspoken drama. Kris's siblings exchange knowing glances, their eyes lingering on Kris with amusement. Kris tried to shrink into his seat, wishing he could disappear, hoping no one else would bring attention to his problem. Finally, they arrive at the airport, and Kris's anxiety reaches a peak. He knows he'll have to pass through security, where his pull-up may likely be detected by the scanners. The thought fills him with dread, and he can feel the panic rising. Chapter 13: First Flight Kris's excitement for the upcoming trip to Disney World was evident as he stood in line with his family at the airport check-in counter. The vibrant colors of the terminal buzzed around him, and he bounced on the balls of his feet, unable to contain his anticipation. Today was the day they were finally going on their adventure. His parents stood in front of him, their voices filled with cheerful chatter as they conversed with the airline attendant. Behind them, Tammi and Sam whispered excitedly to each other, their eyes wide with wonder at the prospect of meeting their favorite characters. But amid the hustle and bustle of the airport, Kris couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't just the nerves of flying for the first time or the thrill of visiting the happiest place on earth that made him fidgety. No, it was something else entirely. As his parents handed over their suitcases to be checked in, Kris glanced around anxiously, searching for something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Then it hit him. He needs to go through security. While his parents handed over their suitcases, Kris couldn't help but notice the security checkpoint nearby. People were going through the scanner, and some were being moved to the side for a pat-down. A shiver ran down Kris's spine as he imagined himself in that position, worried that they might notice his diaper. He glanced around anxiously, hoping no one would pay attention to him. His heart raced as he tried to keep calm, but the fear of being embarrassed in front of so many people gnawed at him. 'Kris, is everything okay?' his mother's voice brought him back to reality. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,' Kris replied quickly, forcing a smile. As they approached the security checkpoint, Kris's heart pounded like a drum in his chest, each beat echoing louder in his ears. He watched his family members pass through the scanner ahead of him, each seemingly carefree and unaware of the storm raging within him. Relief floods through Kris when he realizes they don't have any carry-on bags to be inspected—no diapers to be revealed. Still, the fear of getting caught wearing a diaper lingers in the back of his mind. As they inch closer to the security scanner, Kris's palms grow clammy, and he swallows hard, trying to quell the rising panic. His eyes dart around nervously, half-expecting someone to notice the telltale bulkiness of his diaper beneath his clothes. Finally, it was his turn. Kris stepped forward, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him, and he raised his trembling hands above his head as instructed. The scanner beeped, and his heart skipped a beat. A security officer motioned for him to step aside for further screening, and Kris's stomach churned with dread. Kris followed the officer to the side, feeling like all eyes were on him. His cheeks burned with humiliation as he realized what was happening. The security officer began a gentle but thorough pat-down, his gloved hands brushing against Kris's diaper with a feather-light touch. Kris closed his eyes, trying to block out the sensation of exposure and vulnerability. He wished he could disappear, vanish into thin air, and escape this moment of mortification. The TSA agent's soothing voice offered little comfort as he explained each step of the procedure, but Kris was too embarrassed to truly listen. Through half-closed eyes, Kris stole a glance at his family. They stood on the other side of the security checkpoint, waiting patiently, or so it seemed. He could see the subtle curve of his sibling's lips that barely contained laughter dancing in their eyes. They were snickering! The realization hit Kris like a sledgehammer to the gut. They knew. They all knew about his diaper, about his shameful secret. His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, and he fought back the sting of tears threatening to spill. The TSA agent's voice broke through Kris's thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "All set, buddy. You did great," the agent said with a reassuring smile. Kris blinked, surprised by the agent's kind words. He glanced at his family, expecting to see mocking smiles or looks of pity, but instead, he saw genuine smiles of encouragement. Even Kyle's usual smirk was replaced by a nod of approval. Finally, the pat-down was over, and Kris could rejoin his family. Feeling relief, Kris managed a weak smile and thanked the TSA agent before hurrying to catch up with his family. As he joined them, his mother enveloped him in a warm hug. 'You did amazing,' she whispered, squeezing him tight. He was still embarrassed that he had to go through that but grateful he didn't get exposed in such a public place. Astonishment hit Kris as they gathered their things and walked to their gate. No one said a word about the incident. His parents were encouraging, Acting like it was no big deal. Even his siblings, who had been giggling just moments before, now wore masks of innocence, their laughter silenced. Kris couldn't understand it. How could they know and yet say nothing? Were they playing some cruel joke on him, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce? Or were they simply too wrapped up in their own excitement for the trip to notice? As the family made their way to the gate, Kris couldn't shake the unease lingering from the security checkpoint. His bladder felt slightly full, but he resisted the urge to use the airport restroom until they got where they needed to go. Since an unpleasant encounter in a public bathroom when he was younger, Kris avoided using them whenever possible. He preferred to wait until he got home or to a familiar place where he felt more comfortable. However, as they reached their gate, Kris realized he couldn't hold it for the whole flight. He tugged at his dad's sleeve, trying to get his attention. "Dad, I need to use the restroom," Kris whispered, hoping his family wouldn't overhear. Kevin glanced down at him. "Sure. Let's go." Kris followed his dad to the nearest restroom, his heart pounding with anxiety. The memories of past taunts and jeers echoed in his mind, making him hesitant to enter. But he knew he had no choice. Taking a deep breath, Kris entered the restroom, his dad waiting just outside. He quickly found an empty stall and locked the door, grateful for its privacy. As he relieved himself, he tried to push aside the memories and focus on the present. As he finished and stepped out of the stall, he noticed a line of guys waiting for their turn. Kris felt a pang of embarrassment, realizing he had taken up a stall when others were waiting. He hurried over to the sink, avoiding eye contact with anyone in line. As Kris hurriedly washed his hands at the sink, trying to avoid eye contact with the line of guys waiting for stalls, he felt the weight of anxiety pressing down on him like a lead blanket. His heart raced as he fumbled with the soap dispenser, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. Out of the corner of his eye, Kris caught a glimpse of movement and glanced up at the mirror. His breath caught in his throat as he saw a boy in line, about the same age as Kyle, pointing in his direction, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. Panic surged through Kris like an electric shock, sending shivers down his spine. He quickly averted his gaze, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he realized his pull-up was visible to everyone behind him. How could he have been so careless? Frantically, Kris tugged at the hem of his shirt, getting it wet from the hands he was washing, trying to cover up the telltale bulge of his diaper. But it was too late. The damage had been done, and he could feel the weight of their stares bearing down on him like a heavy burden. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Kris's hands trembled as he reached for a paper towel to dry them. Each movement felt like an eternity; his senses heightened and on edge. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, scrutinized for his perceived weakness and shame. As he finally finished drying his hands, Kris dared to steal another glance at the mirror. The boy in line was still staring at him, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Kris's stomach churned with a mixture of humiliation and resentment. As Kris rushed out of the bathroom, his heart still pounding with embarrassment, he found his dad waiting for him just outside, a reassuring smile on his face. "Good, bud?" his dad asks, concern evident in his tone. Kris nods quickly, forcing a smile to mask his discomfort. "Yeah, I'm good," he mumbles, avoiding his dad's gaze. Together, they return to the gate where the rest of the family awaits. Kris sits next to Tammi, his fingers tapping nervously on the armrest as he tries to distract himself from the lingering embarrassment. Pulling out his handheld console, Kris immerses himself in the digital world, his mind seeking solace in the familiar sights and sounds of his favorite game. But even as he loses himself in the virtual adventure, he can't shake the memory of the boy in the restroom; the mocking smirk etched in his mind like a scar. Minutes pass in a blur as Kris tries to lose himself in the game, but a sudden screech of laughter catches his attention. He looks up to see the same boy from the restroom sitting just a few seats away with his family. The boy is engaged in animated conversation with his siblings, his laughter ringing out loud and clear in the bustling terminal. Each of them looks shocked and amused, their eyes darting from their brother to Kris and back with barely concealed amusement but concern from getting caught looking at him. Panic grips Kris's chest as he assumes the worst, his mind racing with thoughts of ridicule and mockery. But before he can dwell on it any further, an announcement blares over the PA system, signaling that it's time to board the plane. As Kris and his family line up to board the plane, his heart sinks a little as he sees the other boy and his family getting up to board the same plane. He tries to keep his head down, hoping to avoid further embarrassment. As they make their way down the narrow aisle of the plane, he can't help but feel self-conscious, hoping no one else will notice his diaper. He quickly finds his seat and settles in, trying to focus on the excitement of the trip rather than his embarrassment. He watches out of the corner of his eye as the other family passes by; the boy seems oblivious to him, then suddenly does a double take, shooting him a smirk as he passes. Kris felt a knot form in his stomach, but he brushed it off. He knows he can't let this random boy's thoughts ruin his trip. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and tries to relax as the plane prepares for takeoff. Chapter 14: Trouble at 30k Feet The steady hum of the airplane engines filled the cabin as Kris settled into his seat, trying to push aside the lingering embarrassment from the restroom incident. He glanced out of the window from his middle seat, watching as the ground gradually fell away beneath them, feeling the G-forces for the first time, noting the weird sensations across his body. As the plane rose higher and higher, he could feel the air shift and the odd sensations easing up as the vast expanse of the blue sky came into sight. Beside him, in the aisle seat, his mother sat, her comforting presence a soothing calm to his nerves. She smiled reassuringly at him, her eyes filled with warmth. Kris couldn't help but feel grateful for her support, even if she was the one who suggested he wear a diaper while on the flight. He could feel the plane leveling out a few minutes in as they reached cruising altitude. The seat belt sign came off, notifying passengers that they were free to move about. Bored, Kris pulled out his handheld to help pass the time, and Kyle, who sat to his right with the window seat, did the same. After an hour or two of flying, Kris started to feel thirsty. He turned to his mom and asked, "Mom, do we have anything to drink?" Kim glanced at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, bud, we didn't bring any drinks with us. But I think the flight attendants will be coming around soon with beverages. You can ask them for something to drink." Sure enough, the flight attendants began their rounds a few moments later, pushing their carts down the narrow aisle. Kris waited patiently for them to reach his row, feeling excited. When the cart finally arrived, a flight attendant looked over to their row, her smile bright and welcoming. 'Would you like something to drink?' she asked, cheerful. Kris nodded eagerly. "Can I have an apple juice, please?" Kim signaled to the flight attendant, who nodded and reached for a chilled bottle of apple juice from the cart. She poured a generous amount into a plastic cup before handing it to Kris with a warm smile. "Here you go, sweetie. Enjoy," she said kindly before moving on to the next row of seats. Kris accepted the cup gratefully, taking a sip of the cool, refreshing liquid. As he sipped on the refreshing drink, Kris tried to focus on the excitement of the trip and push aside the embarrassment of wearing a diaper. He glanced out of the window again, over Kyle's console, marveling at the vastness of the sky and the beauty of the world below. Despite everything, he was determined to make the most of this experience and enjoy every moment of their family vacation. Kris continued to sip his apple juice and play his game. He gradually lost track of time, engrossed in the digital world unfolding on the screen in front of him. An hour passed in a blur of animated characters and bright colors, the steady drone of the airplane engines fading into the background. But as another hour ticked by, Kris felt pressure starting to build up in his lower abdomen. It was a familiar feeling he had experienced many times before—a sign that he needed to use the restroom. Kris took another sip of his apple juice, trying to distract himself from the growing discomfort in his abdomen. He glanced at his mom, who was engrossed in a magazine and hesitated before speaking up. "Mom, how much longer until we land?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Kim glanced at her watch before looking back at Kris. "About an hour and a half, honey. Why? Do you need to use the restroom?" Kris felt a wave of panic wash over him. He knew he should probably use the restroom, but the thought of walking down the narrow aisle in his diaper filled him with dread. He shook his head, forcing a smile. "No, I'm okay. I can wait." Kim raised an eyebrow but didn't press the issue. "Alright, just let me know if you change your mind." Kris nodded, turning his attention back to his handheld. He tried to focus on the game he was playing, but the pressure in his abdomen was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was useless. Kris's discomfort grew as the minutes ticked by, but he was determined not to use the restroom. He glanced at his siblings, who were all engrossed in their own activities, unaware of his predicament. He felt a pang of envy, wishing he could be carefree like them. As the captain's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing they would begin their descent shortly, Kris felt relief, knowing they would be landing soon. He glanced out of the window, noticing the change in altitude as the plane started its gradual descent. But as the plane descended, Kris felt the pressure in his abdomen intensify. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the game in his hands, but the discomfort was becoming unbearable. As the pressure in his abdomen continued to mount, Kris's anxiety heightened. He clenched his teeth, determined to hold on until they landed. But with each passing minute, the discomfort grew more unbearable. He shifted in his seat, trying to alleviate the pressure, but it only seemed to worsen. "M-Mom," Kris stammered, his voice shaky with desperation. "H-How long until we land?" Kim glanced at him, concern etching her features as she noticed his distress. "Not long, honey. Just a few more minutes." "C-Can I please get up to use the restroom now?" Kris stammered, his voice shaky with urgency. Kim looked at him, concern deepening as she observed his distress. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, honey," she said gently. "But the seatbelt sign is on now, and we're beginning our descent. You'll have to wait until we land." Kris's heart sank at her words, a sinking feeling of dread settling in his stomach. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the rising panic threatening to overwhelm him. With each passing moment, the pressure in his abdomen grew more unbearable. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold on a little longer. He tried to distract himself, looking out the window at the passing clouds, but the discomfort was overwhelming. He shifted in his seat again, feeling the pressure in his abdomen reaching a critical point. Panic surged through him as he realized he might not be able to hold on much longer. Desperate, Kris tried to push up on his seat with his hands, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. But just as he did, he heard a loud, unmistakable sound—a sound that made his heart sink, and his cheeks burn with shame. Squelch... pfft... plop Kris's eyes widened in horror as he felt a heavy weight pushing down in his diaper, warmth spreading rapidly. He froze, unable to comprehend how he had let this happen. Beside him, Kyle looked up from his game, his eyes widening in shock as he realized what had occurred. He turned to Kim, his voice filled with disbelief. "Mom did Kris just..." Kim's eyes widened as she turned to Kris, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Kris, did you...?" Kris shook his head, his face burning with embarrassment. "I-I don't know what happened," he mumbled, unable to meet his mother's gaze. "I-I didn't mean to..." Kim's expression softened as she reached out to comfort him, but Kris pulled away, mortified by what had just transpired. He sat back in his seat, feeling the mess squish against him, the smell wafting up to his nose. He wanted to disappear, to escape this humiliating moment, but he was trapped, unable to leave his seat due to the seat belt sign. Tears welled up in Kris's eyes as he realized the extent of his embarrassment. He had just pooped his diaper on a crowded airplane in front of his entire family and several strangers. He felt shame unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he knew that this moment would haunt him forever. As the plane continued its descent, the smell of Kris's accident began circulating in the cabin. Kris felt his face burn with shame as he realized everyone could smell what had happened. He hunched over in his seat, trying to make himself smaller, wishing he could disappear. Every movement sent shivers down his spine as the mess squished and oozed under him. A few rows back, Kris heard a familiar voice—the boy from the restroom, the one who had seen his diaper. "I bet it's the diaper boy from the bathroom who pooped," the voice spoke loud enough for Kris to hear. He felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over him, knowing that the boy was talking about him. Around him, Kris could hear murmurs and complaints from other passengers. Some were complaining about the smell, wrinkling their noses in disgust. "What's that smell?" one person complained. "It's disgusting," another voice chimed in. "Why do we always have to sit near a baby who poops?" someone else grumbled. Kris's cheeks burned with shame as he listened to the complaints. He wanted to sink into his seat and disappear, to escape the judging gazes and the whispers. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Beside him, Kyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and sympathy. Kim leaned closer to Kris, speaking in a soft, soothing voice. "It's okay," she said gently. "Accidents happen, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. We'll be landing soon, and then we can get you cleaned up, alright?" forgetting that she had no way of doing so. Kris nodded, grateful for his mom. He knew she was trying to make him feel better, but the shame and embarrassment lingered. He closed his eyes, waiting for the minutes to pass so he could escape this humiliating ordeal. As the plane finally touched down and taxied to the gate, Kris felt a sense of relief wash over him. He couldn't wait to get off the plane and away from the prying eyes and judgmental whispers. As soon as the seatbelt sign turned off, Kris unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, eager to escape. As Kris stood up from his seat, the urge to pee hit him with a vengeance. His bladder felt like it was about to burst, and he knew he couldn't hold it any longer. He glanced around frantically, panic rising within him as he realized the humiliating situation he was in. With a deep sense of shame already engulfing him from his recent accident, Kris made a split-second decision. He knew he was already in a dirty diaper, and with the passengers beginning to gather their belongings and make their way off the plane, he felt what's the difference at this point if he used the bathroom or his already soiled pull-up. At that moment, Kris decided to let go, allowing himself to release the pent-up urine into his already soiled diaper. He felt a rush of warmth spreading throughout the diaper as it became increasingly heavy and sagged noticeably. The feeling was both comfortable and mortifying, but Kris couldn't bring himself to care anymore in his overwhelmed state. As Kim gathered her belongings and prepared to exit the plane, Kris couldn't help but notice the stares from several passengers. Some looked disgusted, their noses wrinkling in distaste at the smell emanating from his soiled diaper. A few teenage girls giggled behind their hands, casting mocking glances in his direction, while a group of boys burst out into laughter, their eyes alight with amusement. The boy from the restroom, the one who had seen Kris's diaper earlier, stared at him with a knowing look, nudging his family members as if to say, "I told you so." Kris felt a surge of humiliation wash over him, his cheeks burning with shame as he realized just how visible his predicament was to everyone around him. As Kris waddled off the plane, his diaper heavy and sagging, he felt the weight of his humiliation pressing down on him with each step. His siblings glanced at him, some with pity, others with amusement, but none dared to speak up as they followed their parents through the crowded airport terminal. Kris couldn't bear the stares from the other travelers, their judgmental eyes boring into him like daggers. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he shuffled along, feeling every squish and squelch of his soaked diaper. "Mom," Kris whispered, tugging at Kim's sleeve as they reached the gate. "Can we please go get cleaned up?" Kim's heart sank as she looked down at her son, his face flushed with shame. She glanced around frantically, realizing they didn't have any spare clothes or diapers with them. They hadn't brought carry-ons, and their luggage was being forwarded to the hotel. "Oh, Kris," Kim murmured, her voice filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. We don't have anything with us right now." Kris's eyes widened in dismay, his heart sinking even further as the reality of their situation sank in. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly humiliated, standing there in the middle of the bustling airport terminal with his dirty diaper on display for everyone to see.

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?"

Luna’s predicament Fulgrim Prologue It all began with a flash,then a boom, and finally an infinity of sensations once forgotten came like a tsunami to Luna after the banishing of nightmare moon. Things like breathing, coldness and tiredness came crushing to the poor princess, now finally free from that curse born from ancient hate. Alas she was free, Free, but she didn't have much time to ponder as she succumbed to exhaustion. ________________________________________ “This is it ?” said twilight exhausted from such extraneous activities “Yes it is” said Celestia in her usual optimistic tone “But, I don't understand ?” said twilight confused Were once stood a mighty foe,now was but a little filly “Magic and alicorn biology are things truly mysterious,I didn't know what her banishment and subsequent exorcism would entail… such a predicament.”She said now stoically “So what now ?” Said twilight wishing to go to bed, of course not before reading a 50 page essay about Blue eucalyptus lilies. “Now it is high time me and my little sister go home” Now a bright, brighter than the brightest of suns adorning her mouth. ________________________________________ Now Celestia began her journey to her palace, now with an added package in the form of her little sister. Whilst for her subjects a restful night was ahead of them, for the princess of the sun, the night had just begun, as she had now to prepare everything for the reintroduction of her sister. From a room to rest, medical staff to attend to her wounds, tutors to teach her all the things she missed during 1000 years, to a hundred other little things. Indeed things were going to be quite occupied for the bearer of the sun, but she was genuinely happy over the development of the affair, and whilst she was preoccupied about the predicament of her sister, she could do nothing to change it, indeed it was a good night. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sooooooo the prologue to my first ever kink story, yay i suppose, just to be clear i don't know how long this whole affair will be but hey, who cares? Thanks for reading and have a goodnight. Chapter 1

This story takes place a couple of months after Keeping Secrets. It's hard for me to tell, but I don't think it's necessary to read the previous story to enjoy this one, but if you want to read about how Tracy and Kat met, that's where to go. And as always, I will be updating the tags as the different parts are posted to avoid spoilers. -------------- Mission Improbable (Part 1 of 13) "Shit!" Tracy looked out of the window of her van. Big, fat raindrops splattered against the windscreen. "What's the matter Häschen?" Kat's voice on the other end of the phone line asked. "Rain. "That's going to make flying harder." A single one of those big drops could upset the balance of Tracy's little drone. It would also make audio surveillance next to impossible. Lightning flashed somewhere behind the car, illuminating the trees in front of the car briefly. The thunder that followed only moments later drowned out whatever Kat said. "What was that?" Tracy put Kat on speaker while she climbed around the seats to the back of the van. "I said 'just be careful'. I wouldn't want to take care of a zapped, little bunny. You're fussy enough when you're just wet." Tracy felt a blush creep up her neck. "Kat," Tracy pleaded, the whining tone painfully clear even to herself. God, I sound like a four-year-old. "Oh come on," Kat said. "It's not like there's anyone else in your car with you." "How do you know?" "Well, is there?" "No," Tracy admitted. She was struggling to find the neck hole inside her dark grey rain poncho. The stiff plastic of the poncho crackled slightly with static electricity as she pulled it down. The mesh of hair-thin metal wires inside the plastic would hide and distort Tracy's heat signature, making her much harder to see with infra-red cameras. She wasn't expecting anybody to be using that, but if she had to be somewhere in person, she was not going to take any chances. Tracy picked the phone up from the suitcase holding most of her surveillance gear. "Anyway, are you doing anything tonight?" Tracy didn't actually hold her breath; at least not physically. She always felt awkward asking if Kat was free. Asking a dominatrix if she's working felt to Tracy like asking 'are you fucking someone'. It wasn't like she was jealous when Kat was seeing clients. Well, maybe a little. She knew what she was getting into when she and Kat started... dating? No, that wasn't the word she'd use. Maybe 'seeing each other'? No, that didn't seem right either. They weren't two high-schoolers making out between classes. 'Sleeping together' didn't feel right either, although it was true in the most literal sense. Tracy was so lost in her search for the right term that she missed Kat's answer. She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts. "What was that? You dropped out there for a second," Tracy bluffed. "I said I have a client all night. Sorry." Tracy sighed. "Okay." She had hoped that she could snuggle up to Kat after having had to be out in the rain. Even if it was only for a few hours. Sleeping like that was so much more restful than sleeping alone. "Aww. Were you hoping for some snuggles after you were done?" Tracy suddenly realised something. "All night, you said? Are they there now?" "Relax Häschen. It's not like they can hear you." "Still, you know I hate it when we talk like this when you have other people there." "You didn't seem to mind last week when Jessie and Uncle Dieter had us over for dinner." Tracy sighed again, almost rolling her eyes at Kat. "That's different and you know it. They think we're... you know, dating." Tracy cringed at the word. It wasn't like they hadn't gone on dates. But there was a big difference between 'going on dates' and 'dating'. At least in Tracy's mind. "We can have breakfast," Kat suggested. "Or maybe lunch. I don't know how late it'll be before I get some sleep." "Mmm-yeah. Breakfast sounds nice. Surprise me." Tracy knew that Kat could hear her smile. "Do you want me to wear my..." Tracy hesitated, "you know..." Kat laughed. "You can say 'diaper' Häschen. It iss not a naughty verd." She said the last sentence with an exaggerated German accent that made Tracy smile. "I know. It just feels weird to say it." "You know, it's funny. You have more trouble saying the word than you have actually wearing them." "Yeah, yeah. It's hilarious," Tracy said dismissively. "Scheiße, I have to go," Kat said as there was some noise in the background that Tracy couldn't identify. "Tomorrow, wear your diapers if you want to. Or not. We'll figure something out. Bye." "Uh, bye," Tracy said, but Kat had already hung up. "...I guess." She put away the phone and opened the car door, looking out into the downpour. Even before stepping outside, she imagined she could feel a greasy trickle down the back of her neck. Tracy grabbed her camera and checked the batteries. Almost fully charged. Before she slipped the strap over her head, Tracy made sure the waterproof casing was properly closed. Wouldn't want foggy lenses that I can't reach. Tracy stepped out of the van and found herself ankle-deep in a puddle that hadn't been there when she parked. "Damn." Tracy stepped out of the puddle and shook her feet to get some of the water out of her shoes. "Not exactly the greatest start," she said to no-one in particular. Grabbing a black, plastic briefcase and a small tripod, Tracy closed the door and locked it. The alarm activated with a quiet chirp. Then she trudged off into the bushes. Half an hour later, Tracy was in place. She was crouching in a bush halfway up a small hill. Below her was a footpath with a metal bench and a trash can with a couple of impressive dents. Tracy absent-mindedly wondered what could have made the dents. They looked too big to be from bikes, but the footpath was too narrow and twisting for cars. ATVs maybe? Tracy checked her watch: A quarter to one. In fifteen minutes, that trash can was going to be one of the richest trash cans in the city. Tracy shifted her weight, moving her knee out of the small brook that had appeared only minutes after she had settled down in her bush. Her mind drifted back to earlier that day. *** Tracy had been in her office, working on the final report to a client when there was a quiet knock on the door. Tracy checked the camera outside the door. Kat had insisted she install the camera and reinforce the office door after a case had gone badly, in a death-threat kind of way a couple of months earlier. Outside the door was a woman and man. They didn't look like a threat, so Tracy pressed the button to unlock the door. The lock buzzed and clicked and after a few moments, the couple entered. Tracy pushed her keyboard aside and motioned to the chairs in front of the desk. "Please, have a seat." Tracy found her trusty notepad and pencil. Then she pushed the phone to the middle of the desk. "You don't mind if I record this..." Tracy paused and studied the couple for a few moments. The man was sitting with his eyes lowered, turned slightly towards the woman, who in turn was sitting back in the chair with her legs crossed, looking relaxed and confident. Tracy figured that she was the one in charge. "... Ms? "Wilford," the woman said. "Nalah Wilford. And I'd rather you didn't. I don't want any of this coming out." "It's only to help my note-taking, but if you're uncomfortable with it..." Tracy picked up her phone and put it away. "OK Ms. Wilford, what's the problem?" Tracy tried to sound professional. "Marc here fucked up," She answered matter-of-factly. Tracy looked from one to the other and back and again. "I'm going to need a little more details than that." Ms. Wilford looked coolly at Marc. "Well? Tell her what you did." "There was this email, and I thought it was from Miss Nalah and I clicked on the link in it and-" "And the idiot opened a back-door into the system. Look, I couldn't care less that they hijacked his webcam and caught him undressing and getting into position for me under the desk in my office." "I-" Tracy began, a little taken aback. "I do, however, care that they caught me on camera as well. And as if that wasn't enough, they encrypted the entire system, locking us out." "And let me guess, they want money to unlock the system and not release the video." "Yeah, fifteen thousand." Ms. Wilford said it like it was more an annoyance than a serious sum of money. "Not to point out the obvious, but isn't this a police matter? Or at the very least, your IT department? Why hire someone like me?" "If we use yesterday's backups we lose all the logs from a crucial deposition, plus we'd look incompetent." Ms. Wilford glared at Marc. "And going to the police wouldn't get the files back in time for the trial either. I figured the simplest solution is to just pay them." "Okay? But then why hire me?" "Don't get me wrong, I'm not OK with what happened. I want you to find out who did this so I can make them regret it. And as for why you specifically? You came highly recommended from a business associate of mine. A Mrs Devereux?" "I see," Tracy said, trying to sound neutral since she didn't know how much Ms. Wilford knew about the case in question. "So, fifteen thousand. I'm assuming they didn't want to meet in some back alley with a suitcase full of cash." "Unfortunately not. They wanted the money in some stupid cryptocurrency, Ding-Dough, on a thumb drive, and they wanted Marc to drop it off at a specific location at 1 am. tonight." "So, in..." Tracy checked her watch, "...eleven hours or so. I'm assuming they gave the whole 'don't contact the police' warning or something like that. Will getting the money be a problem?" Ms. Wilford shook her head. Tracy put down her pencil. "Well, since they've been smart about the money, our best bet is probably to follow the actual thumb drive once your husband makes the drop and hopefully identify the blackmailers that way." "Oh please! Like I'd marry him." Ms. Wilford rolled her eyes. "I deal with enough fucked-up marriages at work. Marc's my personal assistant." And your executive stress relief toy, it sounds like. Tracy opened her desk drawer and rooted around in it for a couple of seconds before bringing out a bright yellow thumb drive. "Use this for the money," she said and handed it to Ms. Wilford. "Now, this is a rush job so I'm going to have to charge extra." "I expected as much. Camille told me the rates you charged her; I'll double it." That was more than Tracy had been planning on charging, so she simply nodded. "I also have a couple more conditions. First of all: My job is to follow the thumb drive, or the information on it, to the blackmailers without them realising it. That is, until they've given you the password to unlock your system. So until that happens, you're going to follow the blackmailer's instructions to the letter. Agreed? "Sounds reasonable." "Also, whatever you're planning for whoever did this, I'm not involved. Once I've identified the blackmailers, my job is over." "I wouldn't have it any other way." Ms. Wilford's smile sent a chill down Tracy's spine. It was like a cat watching a canary with a broken wing. Tracy decided she didn't want to get on Ms. Wilford's bad side. They spent the next twenty minutes getting all the details Tracy felt she needed. After Ms. Wilford and Marc had left, Tracy started planning. She would park a drone by the drop and follow whoever came to pick it up. Tracy opened the box of drones and checked the battery levels of the one with the best range. It only had a basic camera and microphone, but it was small enough to escape notice. After checking the map of the park where the drop-off was, she found that the drone should be able to follow the thumb drive to any of the parking lots in the immediate area. After that, it was just a matter of recording the licence plate and the traffic cameras would do the rest of the job for her. The thumb drive even had a tracker that she could activate remotely in case she lost track of it. If whoever picked it up scanned the drive for bugs, they wouldn't find it until it was too late. Tracy had to admit that she had a similar tracker on her car keys and that she had had to use it more than once. Content that all the technical preparations were done, Tracy went to bed. If she was going to pull an all-nighter, she should start out well rested. *** Movement on the path below brought Tracy back to the present. Somebody halfway hidden by a big, green and white golf umbrella, approached the bench. It was Marc. He looked around nervously. "Come on," Tracy mouthed silently. "Don't get creative. Just make the delivery and walk away." Marc fumbled in his pocket and brought out Tracy's yellow thumb drive. Tracy zoomed in on Marc with her camera as he kept fiddling with the thumb drive. He was turned halfway away from her so she couldn't see exactly what he was doing. "Come on," Tracy kept whispering inaudibly. "Be a good, little executive fuck toy and do what you're supposed to." As though he had heard her, Marc turned and looked in Tracy's direction. She froze, trusting her poncho, the darkness and the distance to hide her. That, and the fact that she had told Marc and Ms. Wilford she would be using her drones to track the drive. Eventually Marc looked away. Tracy slowly brought her hand back to her camera and zoomed out a little, letting it catch the area surrounding the bench. Eventually Marc stopped looking around. He looked down to his hand where the thumb drive was before tossing it into the trash can. Then he hurried off down the path where he had come from. Then there was just the almost sizzling, white noise of the rain pouring down. Tracy imagined she could hear a plink, plink whenever the faint, yellow street light flickered, but other than that, nothing happened. Suddenly, there was a flash and an almost immediate, deafening crash of thunder as the lightning struck somewhere nearby. Tracy thought she could see something in the bushes by the footpath. She switched the camera to thermographic, turning everything dark grey and black; everything except the bright heat bloom of somebody hiding in one of the bushes. "Now what do we have here?" She zoomed in, trying to get a good picture. Unfortunately, thermographics was never made for identification purposes, so the face remained an unrecognisable white blur. Tracy was so focused on the person in the bushes that she almost missed the movement by the trash can. Tracy turned the camera back and switched off the thermographics when she saw no heat signatures. Something reminiscent of a bug the size of a small plate was scuttling out of the trash, holding Tracy's thumb drive in its pincers. It fell from the opening, but instead of hitting the ground, it rose with the unmistakable whine of high-speed rotors. Shit, they're using a drone for the pickup. Tracy fumbled in her pocket for the remote control for the tracker. She pressed the button and the little light on the remote switched from red to a blinking yellow. "What the..." Tracy pressed the button again, but the light stubbornly refused to change to green. "Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit." Tracy reached for the briefcase on the ground next to her. She opened it and lifted the largest of her camera drones out from its foam housing. Unlike its smaller cousins, this one was capable of operating without Tracy having to steer it manually. In one fluid motion, Tracy switched it on and threw it up in the air. The rotors started up almost immediately and it rose up with a buzzing sound like the world's biggest wasp. Tracy had programmed it to follow the signal from the thumb drive, and failing that, it would try to track movement below. The amount of rain, however, made the latter option a long shot. She pressed the button on the remote one more time, but the light still didn't turn green. "So much for plan B," Tracy grumbled. She rose, leaving the briefcase and tripod with the camera, and ran down the hill towards the person hiding in the bushes. Whoever they were, they were her last chance of finding out what was going on. Tracy half ran, half slid down the hill, branches and twigs scratching noisily against her poncho. The figure in the bushes looked in her direction, obviously having heard her. There was a flash and a sharp crack of thunder. No, not thunder. A gunshot. The fucker's shooting at me? Tracy wanted to turn around, or hide behind something, anything. But her legs, apparently having made a deal with her momentum, just kept going. There was another shot, the bullet hitting the trash can with a metallic clunk. The figure turned and tried to run, but slipped on the mud and fell. The gun landed in a puddle, out of reach of both of them. Tracy dove forward, landing with her elbow in the man's stomach in a move that would have made a pro wrestler proud. The man folded up, coughing and moaning. Tracy picked herself up and was about to give him a kick when she recognised him. "Marc?!?" Marc was too busy gasping for breath to answer. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Help-helping Mistress Nalah," he wheezed. Tracy had a sinking feeling. "What did you do?" Marc rolled over on his side and tried to sit up. "Tracking bug," he coughed, "on... on the drive." "Gimme." "Wha...?" Marc asked with a bewildered look. "The bug tracker. Now!" Tracy demanded, trying to sound extra bossy in the hopes it would speed things up. Marc fumbled in his pockets and held out a small, cracked, plastic rectangle. Tracy grabbed it, noting the silver company logo above the small screen. TeraTech Electronics: Fantastic range, but shitty transmitter shielding. That could explain my tracking problems. Tracy left Marc in the mud and ran back towards her equipment. "Call 'client one'," Tracy told her phone as she struggled up the slippery slope. Ms. Wilford answered almost immediately. "Yes?" "Bullit here. Is the money still there?" "Yes, it's still all here," Ms. Wilford started. "No, wait. They just moved it." "Password?" Tracy suppressed a curse as she slipped and almost fell. "Not yet. Do you have them?" "No. Still working on it," Tracy said between gasps of breath as she reached the briefcase and knelt down next to it. "There was a complication. I'll call you back." Tracy hung up and pulled out her pocket knife. She used the screwdriver to pry open the casing of Marc's tracker, cutting a small gash in her hand when it slipped. Ignoring the stinging, Tracy examined the circuitry inside, quickly finding the receiver and reading its frequency from the little sticker on it. She dropped the tracker and grabbed the drone remote. The screen showed a map of the park and the drone's search pattern. Tracy input the new tracking frequency and the drone immediately picked it up, abandoning its previous pattern and homing in on its new signal. Tracy's phone rang. "What do you mean 'There was a complication'?" Ms. Wilford asked sharply when Tracy picked up. "I thought we agreed that you were to follow the drop-off instructions, or did I misunderstand something?" Tracy glanced back down to where she had left Marc, but he was gone. "Yeah, that's the deal." "So what's the deal with Marc sabotaging my plans by putting a cheap and obvious bug on my thumb drive?" "He did WHAT?!? Where is that little fucker? Is he still there? Marc! If you can hear this, don't bother coming to work tomorrow!" There was a beep from Tracy's remote control indicating that the drone was approaching its target. Tracy switched from the map to the camera view and the small screen showed a parking lot. There were maybe a dozen cars; no lights or movement. "Look, I still have a couple of tricks up my sleeve. With a little luck, whoever they are didn't notice Marc's bug, or if they did, they're going to be greedy and ask for more since you tried to track the drive. Either way, we still have a shot at finding them. it's just going to be a little trickier and take a little longer." "Just. Find. Them." Ms. Wilford hung up. Tracy left the drone in a holding pattern above the lot and picked up her equipment. Marc had already scurried off to wherever he stayed when he wasn't under Ms. Wilford's desk, leaving the gun in the puddle where he had dropped it. Tracy picked it up before heading for the car. She didn't like guns, but leaving it for someone else to find wasn't an option. Too many irresponsible idiots running around; and not just Marc. By the time Tracy reached the car, she was panting and sweating, cursing the poncho for trapping so much of her body heat. She put the camera and the drone remote on the passenger seat. Then she pulled off the poncho and threw it in the back along with the empty briefcase. For a little while, she just stood there, letting the rain cool her down. Then, before she got too wet, she got in and started the engine. The drive to the parking lot didn't take long; maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Tracy's attention was divided between the road, which was wet and slippery, but thankfully empty, and the screen showing her drone's bird's eye view of the parking lot. Only one car had left the lot since she started driving, and she had a good picture of the car and its licence plates. Hopefully the cameras in the area would help her get a picture of the driver. The thumb drive still hadn't moved, but Tracy hadn't had time to check if the car, or its driver, had been anywhere near it. Tracy picked up her camera and used it to quickly scan the lot. No heat sources; human or engines. As the drone slowly descended, Tracy saw the thumb drive in a puddle. She got out and carefully picked it up. To Marc's credit, the tracker dot that he'd put on on the drive at least matched its colour, but it was still obvious if you knew what to look for. And Tracy had no reason to think the blackmailers didn't. They had been smart about avoiding identification; cryptocurrency payment, drone pickup and quick transfer of the money. So Tracy doubted there would be fingerprints on the drive, but maybe she was lucky and they had screwed up. She put it in a paper bag and put the paper bag in a plastic box of rice she kept in the car precisely to dry out wet electronics. Even if there weren't physical fingerprints, there would be electronic ones. Tracy picked up the drone and put it in the back of her van before climbing in herself. She started the computer and began scanning for available wifi networks. Again, Tracy doubted that the blackmailers would have used an open network when they transferred the money, but at the moment, long shots was pretty much all she had. Thanks a lot, Marc. At least there weren't too many networks in the area. Tracy shuddered to think what the list would have looked like if this had happened downtown. Since pretty much everything in the area was closed for the night, there shouldn't be too much computer traffic to sort through. Tracy loaded a sniffer program to copy the details about the last twenty minute's traffic on the open networks. She noted down the names and details of the protected networks so she could come back the next day to check them out. She debated whether she should have the last can of energy drinks while driving home. On the one hand, it was late and drinking it might keep her up even later, but on the other hand, she was thirsty and really tired. The adrenaline rush of tackling Marc had been a great pick-me-up, but the problem was that as soon as it wore off, it seemed to take with it all the caffeine stored in her system. Concern for her fellow drivers won, and at the next red light, Tracy opened the can and emptied it before the light turned green. She grimaced at the taste. She would have preferred the original what-our-chemical-engineers-think-strawberries-taste-like flavour, but the store had been sold out and all they had had left were the we'll-pretend-this-tastes-like-kiwi-but-all-you-get-is-a-furry-tongue flavoured ones. But caffeine was caffeine, and hopefully, drinking it on an empty stomach would mean that it'd kick in quickly. By the time Tracy reached home, she had gone through most of what she called the energy drink caffeine cycle. She had seen individual air molecules vibrating, had tingly fingers and a pounding pulse. Now she was crashing; her stomach was grumbling and her brain itched. She parked in the parking garage across the street and made her way back to the office, being eternally thankful for her landlord having fixed the elevator. Tracy stumbled through the door. It was a struggle to even open the boxes with her equipment so it would dry while she slept. There was only one thing she wanted to do before getting out of her damp clothes and falling into bed. Tracy opened her fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. She knew better than going to bed thirsty. She peeled off her clothes, lay back on the bed and put on a diaper before wrapping herself in her blanket. After all, she also knew better than going to sleep with a rapidly filling bladder without taking some precautions. ***

My Story. "How do I put this? I think I'm the most miserable man alive. I'm 60 years old, growing up I was a hard worker. I grew up in farming country. I hauled enough alfalfa bales, branded and castrated calves. Picked potatoes. Milked cows. Fixed miles of fencing, If it was farm-related I have done it. I was a garbage man, not one of those guys that drive up with a truck that automatically picks up the can and dumps it, oh no I rode on the back and another guy and I dumped your cans. I also did construction, building your houses. We were putting a wall up and it fell hitting me in the lower back. I also volunteered at my local fire department. I also rode rodeo in my younger days, I liked the saddle broncos. I stayed away from the bull riding. In my opinion, you have to have a few screws loose to ride a bull, that or a death wish! Anybody that will willingly get on a ton of animal with the intent of killing you isn't right in the head. The reason I tell you these things is that now that I'm 60, I've had surgeries to fix several things. I hurt from head to toe the doctors say its arthritis from all the crap I did when I was younger. It's in my ankles, knees my left knee is about twice the size of my right knee. Lower back combination of jumping off the garbage truck before it stopped, and I had a wall that fell on me. Shoulders injured the right when it came out of socket had it fixed once surgically only to have it tear again. Nothing left to work with to repair it again. The left one hurts now because of a ruptured rotator cuff tear. I've had 3 bones removed from it in a procedure called a Radical Row Carpectomy. They took out the carpal bones. That I'm sure is from my rodeo days. I also have had a hernia operation. This caused me to start to wet my bed when I sleep. This has baffled my doctors usually this doesn't cause Enuresis but it did on me. I wasn't a bedwetter growing up. Until I hit 56 years old and had the surgery to repair a hernia. I've been married 3 times the first wife, she divorced me saying I was too damn ornery to live with. We had a daughter togeter. #2 was on her way back from work one night and some asshole that had been drinking at the local bar all day thought he was in good enough condition to drive, he wasn't he hit Beth running her into the river. She died of not the accident but of hypothermia, it was December right before Christmas. Wife #3 died about 18 months ago she got Ovarian Cancer she was pretty much gone before it was diagnosed. Number 1 had taken my only daughter and left me divorcing me several years before she died!" This is where my life changed. After her death, her brother Rusty ( not Russell but Rusty), his wife had left him. Out of the blue, he called me and asked if he and his daughter Yvette could move in with me. Rusty had one of those jobs where he was gone a lot, oil rigs he was gone like two months at a time then home for 3 weeks. He needed a babysitter for Yvette. He was family and I was always taught you helped out family. They arrived I had forgotten Yvette was almost 18 years old. She looked like her mom. Blond, green-eyed and compact she was only 5 foot 1 or 2 but at 17 she had a rack. The last time I had seen her she was 9 or 10 years old. She had grown and filled out. You might be thinking what a pervert! It's just the radical change she had gone through I was 43 years older than her. Old enough to do anything about it and way too old to know better to try! Like I said after one of my surgeries, for my hernia. I started wetting my bed. It wasn't every night maybe once-twice a week sometimes three or four never more than six. I bought good diapers. I usually didn't have leaks maybe once a month. Tonight was that night. After waking at 0400 hours and finding myself and my sheets soaked, I let a few cuss words fly I got in and took a shower. Lets put it this way I was awake now. I then had to take my sodden linen to the basement where the washing machine was. I was trying to be very quiet as this was where Yvette's bedroom was, I didn't want her catching me washing my wet sheets and pj's. I had just gotten my sheets and things into the washer. I heard Yvette stirring and crying, she was letting loose similar language to what I had used. I heard her coming from her room still cussing about something. She had her sheets and from the looks of things they were in a similar state as the ones I had placed in the washer myself. She had wet her bed as well. Except when she shoved the pile into the washer she saw me and I saw the soaked goodnight she had on. Uhm she said when she saw me. Her shirt was wet as well that she still had on. I saw the trembling of her lower lip, I knew she was going to cry! I hate it when I'm right. "Hey, hey whats the matter?" I asked? "Now you know why my mom didn't want me I'm a bedwetter." 'So what I said I know lots of bedwetters!" "Who?" She asked through the tears? "You know that girl on the next block, Cathy or Cassie? The name escaped me at the moment." "Cassidy?" She offered? "Yeah, she used to run around every day with her shorts wet. In the crotch area. Her mom is a real witch about it I asked her one time about why she wet herself every day? She told me why not she still pisses her bed every night." The crying was growing fainter "Who, Who else she asked?" Did I dare tell her me? "How about me?" I asked? "You?" She said, all tears were stopped. "Look in the washer those sheets didn't wet themselves!" She looked in and for one of the first times saw my load and put hers in with mine then she did something that shocked the hell out of me, she took her wet tee shirt off and threw it in with my clothes and sheets. This girl was naked all except her wet goodnight. I looked her straight in the eyes that way I wouldn't stare at her bare chest. "Why don't you go get cleaned up?" I asked? "Okay, Uncle Eddy!" With that, she was off. I heard her turn the shower on in the bathroom in the basement. I put her wet sheets and clothing in with mine. When I heard her turn the shower off I started the washer. I went and started fixing breakfast. She came to the kitchen. She would look at me and when I would look at her she would look away. "Is there something wrong I asked her?" "Uhm, can I ask you a question?" I" think you just did!" I joked. "No, that's not it, she smiled. Uhm your bedwetting have you always...?" That's what her question was. "Wet my bed?" I finished? "Yeah!" She said relieved. "No, I had some surgery that caused it, I've only been wetting my bed about 4 years now, why?" "I never stopped she said. It used to piss my mom off something terrible, she yelled, spanked, restricted my fluids at night. But I still woke up wet the next morning. Even my dad doesn't like the fact that I'm old enough to drive, but I still can't sleep dry. You're the only adult that didn't have a cow when you found out I still wet my bed." "Probably because I understand what you go through every morning I said. By the way, we need to get you better protection at night, those goodnights are made cheap but expensive, per Cassidy 's mother. You feel like skipping school to go do some shopping?" I asked? "Is the Pope Catholic?" She responded? We visited the hospital supply store where I get my diapers from. I found they have the best choice of incontinent supplies in the city. She found some purple things she liked called Molicare. We were getting ready to leave when we heard a commotion. It was Cassidy and her mom. They were there to get diapers for Cassidy, Cassidy was fighting her mom at every step. Yvette and I were seen by Cassidy, she turned about seven shades of red at seeing us. She was embarrassed! Yvette went up and I saw her talk to Cassidy for a few seconds. I saw Cassidy calm down. I know Yvette had just admitted to Cassidy that she wet her bed as well. I saw Cassidy pick out the same purple diapers that Yvette had. Cassidy's mother was flabbergasted that it had been that easy. I knew Yvette had made a good friend in Cassidy. I still remember when she ran around with a wet crotch all the time. Yvette came and asked "Can Cassidy come home with her, her mom said it was okay!" Now I had two girls playing hooky from school!

Kayla is the CEO of a successful company. But she's been on kind of a mean steak lately. Not just her attitude, but she's also cut some employees salaries and benefits. Her right hand lady, Julie isn't too happy with that. Julie has requested that Kayla come to her office so she can talk to her

Hey everyone! Welcome to Academy II, the final installment of Academy Works. The title is unlike previous installments, using a roman numeral instead of a letter. This is a play off Academy I, the first in the series, but it also has a few other meanings. You will quickly find that A2 is very different to the other stories! If you haven't read any Academy Works stories, there are six others in this universe. They are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), Academy K (Part 4), Academy A (Part 5), and Academy M (Part 6). Since this is the final book in the series, reading all of the previous ones will help you understand what's going on. I strongly encourage it. But if you want to jump right in on this one, I think you'll still have a good time. Thanks to all my readers and fans over the past few years. I hope this conclusion is everything you wanted it to be. You can support my work at this Patreon link, or this SubscribeStar link. ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy II will operate a bit differently than previous stories. Updates will be multiple chapters at once, with a bit of a twist. Please be patient and thoughtful with this new format. ❤️ Take it away, Soph. ---------------------------------

Let me tell you an almost true story! Me and my wife had been married for years. Our kids were all grown. We still loved each other but sex had gone out the window when the kids were growing up. Life happened you know busy, busy, busy! Oh I still worked out went to the gym even in my 50's, people thought I looked late 30's early 40's. My wife has always looked youthful she was only 2 years younger but I often got accused of robbing the cradle more than a hundred times it seemed like. Well getting older and trying to lift weights with the young ones doesn't mix! I developed a hernia. I thought I had appendicitis. Same spot as my appendix. I got the surgery got the mesh implanted. About a year or so later I would get pain where the surgery was. That is sometimes normal, but when I felt the pain I would sometimes wet my bed! That was embassing, to say the least I'm 50 something years old bedwetting is for kids and teens not a grown ass man like me! My wife was wonderful, I expected her to berate me, yell at me, whatever. I don't know if I would of been as kind if the tables had been turned. Fast forward a couple of years. It was getting so that if I had a major pain I was wet, even just a minor twinge where I had the surgery I would wake up wet. I started buying Abriform L4 they are pretty expensive I was diapering myself every night just in case. There were nights that I hadn't wet and basically wasted a diaper. As there were nights I slept dry and pulling the white tabs off the blue ones still tore the diaper a bit. The biggest nag I got from my wife was the nights I was dry and basically wasted a very expensive diaper from not using it. On days I would wake up dry I wet it on purpose just to justify the use. I guess I'm old school as that still felt like a waste to me. Along the way I found out I liked being a bedwetter, it was kind of a turn on for me. I thought I was nuts, what grown man likes to wet his bed. I started researching adult bedwetting and holy crap, I found out I'm not the only weird one! I'm not nuts after all. I wanted to be wet every night but it wasn't happening. I had another surgery on my shoulder torn rotator cuff. They catheterized me I was watching the bag fill and I wasn't even realizing I was loosing urine. Light Bulb! As Gru says. Why don't I just get a catheter and wet inside my diapers I mean I don't have to use the collection bag. Easier said than done I ran into you got a prescription for that? No. I was looking on Wish.com low and behold catheters. I started waiting for the little window to pop up asking for a perscription. There wasn't any and they arrived. Unfortunately, they didn't come with a syringe to pump the bladder ball. Tryed using them without and they kept sliding out. Disapointment! I ordered a syringe. 6 weeks later it arrived. I had my catheter in me and it was staying. I diapered myself and went to bed. I awoke in a puddle my diapers couldn't handle everything my bladder sent their way that and my junk had moved and was in the wrong direction. I started thinking. You know but it's weird woman's panties would keep my pee pee down. I bought my first nylon woman's panties. It kept it pointed in the right direction all right but I still was soaking my bed as I was totally wet! I started buying diaper doublers, plastic pants anything I could think of to contain my urine. My diapers made me waddle I was so thickly diapered. I was happy I was waking up soaked every day without having to worry about wasting diapers. My wife usually watched our neighbors kids at night at their house. My neighbors work overnights. I could indulge and not have to worry about my wife thinking I'm weird. My neighbor got sick and we were together as my neighbor was home with the kids and my wife was home with me. I was usually cathed and diapered before her coming to bed. My wife was still supportive she knew that I had a bedwetting problem and as long as I cared for it. She never said a negative word to me. One night in in the process of cateterizing myself. She walks in with my catheter half in and half out. "Whoops!" "What are you doing she asked?" "Uhmmmm, I came clean told her about the past few months how I had been cathetered and I have been wetting my bed without any type of recollection." She asked me "Why?" "I told her it makes me feel naughty." She thought about it for a moment. "Could you make me feel naughty?" I think the smile on my face said it all. I let her start the catheter as I didn't know what hole it went into. The next thing is she is spraying urine. I got a diaper and contained most of her urine. I said "You haven't gone potty have you?" "No she said I was going to go pee in a few moments that's why I came in was to go. She said it felt weird but I loved it it was like no control at all like when I was little." She had the catheter in her. I diapered her thickly like I was! We cuddled in bed for the first time in months. I felt her move and she was feeling the inside of her diaper. "I'm soaked she said with a smile I feel naughty! Just like I used to feel when I was a little girl of 5 and wet my bed still." "You never told me you used to wet your bed?" I said! "I didn't, I thought I did, why do you think I never threw a fit about your bedwetting? I did until 7 years old. I missed it sometimes I like feeling babyish, not having control like this. Do you understand?" "Perfectly!" l said! We went into the bathroom and started. Getting out of our wet diapers and when I got to my panties. "Wow she said I love you! Can we get me some whitie tighties! I've always wanted some." She blushed. "Of course we can get you anything you want!" After we were scrubbed, all disposables disposed of, washables washing, she led me to our bed naked we spent the morning making love to each other. If I had to admit it, I believe it was one of our best sessions in all our years of marriage. It Was great. That day we got her whitie tighties she got me some cotton panties. She told me "They turn a golden yellow from your pee especially the crotches! At least they did when I was a kid!" I was not surprised that night when she came and wanted a catheter, she said "I already went pee! This time I got her ready and she got me ready. While she was doing me she said "I can already feel my pads inside my boys undies getting wet!" I knew what she meant! The next morning she was all smiles! "Daddy I'm wet she said!" I felt my manhood come to life. "I said me to mommy!" I saw her shiver she was turned on. She got on line most of the day, I didn't know what she was doing she spent over $300 dollars on things, was all she would say. About 3 weeks later all kinds of packages arrived. It was mostly onesies. Pacifiers, baby bottles with nipples the size I've never seen before. Other things she didn't want me to see. That night she got me naked after I went pee. Now I'm not the biggest guy down there. Porn stars will never have to worry about me putting them out of a job. After my catheters was in I felt a cold band around my testicles, then something went over my penis she had to smash it to get it to fit, I looked and I had a metal contraption over my penis. "What's this?" I asked as I saw the tip of my catheter poking out around hole in the end. "It's called a chastity cage!" She said! "What for I asked, I've been faithful to you." "I know, I know but I want to have you wear it!" "That's fine, I said but.." "But what?" "It's made of metal and I have to pass through a metal detector every morning to get to my office!" I work in the courts system I'm a keeper. "Oh Pooh!" She said I seen it was important to her. "How about nights and weekends, vacations." The smile returned to her face! "Just not daytimes at work." "Deal!" I said! She said "I got something for you, for me. She brought out an egg looking thing she put some lubricant on it and stuck it in her kitty. She handed me a little thing that looked like a car alarm but had a display. She turned it on and said move that side up! I did as I was told and she looked like she wanted to collapse! "You okay?" I asked! I hadn't made the connection that the higher I moved the dial up the more distressed she looked. I saw her leaking fluids they were running down her legs and dripping on the floor. That's when I realized the egg was a vibrator! I quickly turned down the volume, intensity and she began to breath again. "Sorry! I said I didn't realize what it was at first. "Quite alright she said I kind of enjoyed it! Again?" She asked? I was more than happy to oblige I didn't go as high as last time I saw her shudder and knew she was having an orgasm! I turned the tone down she looked more comfortable. She said "You're no fun!" This time I moved the dial up quickly she leapt 6 inches in the air! A moan escaped her mouth. Slowly I moved the dial down as she came off her tippy toes. I turned it off and she pulled the string out which brought the egg out as well. She smiled "I love it!" She said! "Me too!" I said! I was ready for sex but with the cage on me that was out of the question. She put my panties on and gave my cage a little pat. Now you got a clit like me and your wearing panties woman's panties! She got me dressed in my diapers and pads. She put new pink plastic panties on with pink ruffles and I heard a click they locked. I was locked inside my plastic panties. I dressed her and she had dark blue plastic panties that had light blue ruffles. Hers locked as well. Then the Onesies came out the pink one that I thought was hers was mine and the blue one was hers. I was given a pink baby bottle with milk. It had been a while but soon I was suckling like an old pro. After that she stuck a pink pacifier in my mouth and clipped the pink to strap you my pink onesie. Hers was blue. Next day when I awoke I said "Morning!" "Morning who?" She asked? I was confused. "Morning Mommy!" She said! "Okay Morning Mommy!" "How is my little sissy this morning?" Sissy? I thought then yep I'm pretty in pink. I thought "I'm good Mommy!" I said in one of my best little girl voices. She gave me a smile. "Is my little girl as wet as her mommy?" "Yes mommy I am!" Another smile. She led me to our bathtub in the outer hall she removed everything. She undid my cage and slowly pulled out my catheter. Then relocked it. She ran some bathwater and but some bubble bath in the tub it was very effeminate smelling. She got me in and began scrubbing me like she would a child. She said "I got to clean your clitty." She washed around my cage cleaning my testicles. She said your clitty is all clean she got me out and dried me off after rinsing the excess suds of. She had me undress her and called me daddy to let me know I was in that role now I cleaned up my little girl. I was dressed in pink womans undies again these were the softest I had felt. She used garters and slipped up pink nylons then a pink dress and a blonde wig with pigtails. She put her boys undies they were green and had the incredible hulk on them then a blue shirt that said play ball and had a baseball on it. Then Levis and a Indians baseball cap. Other than her hair she looked like a teen boy! "Today I'm the man. And your the girl got it?" "Yeah I got it!" We spent all day just playing different roles it was an eye opener just to see how the other half lived. That night my princess dress was removed as well as my cage and I got to be the man again. She became my wife again we made love well into the night.

I had just turned 18 years old. I was getting ready for my Freshman year of college. I was accepted at State University in Greenmore. It was a 3 1/2 drive there and back. I wasn't looking foreward to driving 7 hours a day, just to go to school. Mom's best friend Aunt Kathy, and Uncle John lived in Greenmore. They were not really my Aunt and Uncle. Mom and Kathy were best friends from Grade School through mom's Sophomore year at State. She met dad and the rest is history as the say, mom married dad the end of their Junior year. Aunt Kathy married Uncle John what would of been my mom's and her Senior year. Mom moved here and Aunt Kathy got a Masters Degree in Education. Mom had me, then about a year later, Aunt Kathy had Evelyn. Aunt Kathy about 9 months later had John Jr. John Jr. was a preemie, he had always been a sickly kid, his lungs never developed enough. As a kid he had the little oxygen maker that he wore over his shoulder, with a nasal cannula up his nose. Looked like one of those old guys with Emphysema. John Jr. never got to be a real kid. He never got to play football, play tag, do anything a real kid got to do. When we went there or they came here for a visit, I saw Evelyn, and John Jr. get diapers at night. I guess they both wet their beds, it was okay though, I had a huge crush on Evelyn! She had to be the most beautiful girl I knew. I was about 13 or 14 years old last we seen of each other. Aunt Kathy used to diaper them together, in the livingroom. Evelyn was my dream girl when I discovered masturbation she was the one that I imagined. I was going to move in with Aunt Kathy, Uncle John, and Evelyn. John Jr. had died about a year and a half ago. He got the Covid and as sickly as he was lasted about 3 days before it killed him. He was diagnosed on Friday afternoon and died early Monday morning. It was more than his poor little body could endure. I was offered his room to live in while I was going to school in Greenmore. Mom and dad were not rich, so living with Aunt Kathy, Uncle John and Evelyn was a God send! There was no way we could afford for me to stay at the dorms!

Well, this is a different sort of story. I had the idea of combining a babyfur story...with the Golden Age of Piracy. Weird idea, but I've researched a bit, figured out how things worked, and it just...took hold. It's a lot less mature than most of my stories, actually (surprising for me), buuut I maaay include some things that are a lot more AB and regression themed than I normally do (which is normally a lot). Also, there will be a bit earthier stuff, like a brothel and tavern wenches (as was in the times. Don't worry, no sexual themes aside from...motherhood themes.), so consider that the warning. I'm also admittedly not sure where the story's middle and climax are, but I have an idea about the end;I just don't know where it'll go before then. Okay, here's the first chapter: Chapter One: Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls The ocean in 1595 was a treacherous place, especially when one didn’t know what they were doing, and even more so when it was an area rife with danger already; the broken ships, names long since lost to the pounding waves, howling winds, and sea spray proved that without a shadow of a doubt. Fortunately for Florence Goodluck, the feared - at least, she hoped she was - black-furred fox captain of the seven seas, she and her small crew knew exactly what they were doing...or so they hoped. She wore few fripperies; while she and her crew were regarded as pirates, welcomed at Tortuga by fellow pirates, they weren’t a very wealthy or successful crew, having gotten few prizes over the time they were active. She and her crew wore simple, short, homespun dresses, ragged and torn from years on the sea. “Tack to port!” she called out in a high soprano, as she took the lookout point, seeing her crew of big cats maneuver the Catastrophe (her idea to let the crew, having known her lifelong friends since they all lived on the docks of Dover, England as orphans, know how much she appreciated them, especially since they unanimously voted her captain.) with Emma Everard, the stoic snow leopardess helmscat at her customary spot at the wheel. Not that the fox minded the lookout and rigging jobs; she never ordered her crew to do anything that she wouldn’t do, and she knew that Emma was better at the wheel than she could ever be. “Move port, bring the riggings up!” Grace Wythinghall, the powerful pantheress roared out, as was her right as quartermistress, helping the crew move away from the bow of a half-sunken ship, the stench of rotting wood in the air as a cold, heavy mist began to roll in. Florence sniffed the air, with most everything, even the familiar sea spray scents, fading into the furling mists. She realized that it could be a quest that ended all of their lives. No pirate had ever gotten this treasure, mostly because of silly and stupid superstitions that the older folk believed in. But she truly believed that she and her crew would be the first, and it would propel them to fame, glory…and mostly peace. Maybe because we’re the most desperate, that we have absolutely nothing to lose, she thought to herself. They were all veterans of the seas for a decade, and yet none of them were over the age of twenty-three, having lived hard lives as pirates, spending almost all of that decade in the bosom of their small frigate, rocked to sleep by the waves, avoiding privateers (those damned hypocrites, no better than they were…only with a letter of marque by the kings and queens of countries allowing them to prey on those weaker than them), fellow pirates, and legitimate navy ships that could’ve sunk them and sent them straight to Davy Jones. All Florence wanted was to retire. She was tired of the sea, tired of the dangers, tired of starving, and she wanted to put down roots somewhere on an island where the most she’d see of the ocean was occasional fishing, with more money than she knew how to spend. “Florence, I can’t see anything in this mist!” Agnes Coulthurst cried out, the cougaress’s tail lashing in annoyance, bringing her back to the moment. “Hold steady!” the black fox called. “Are you absolutely sure, Flory?” Denise Parkham called out; the lynx boatswain's voice tinged with terror. This was not a natural mist; the conditions for mist weren’t there; hell, it was far too cold for the normal spring weather of the Caribbean, and frost began to creep on the sails. “Do NOT call me ‘Flory’!” Florence snapped. “Hold steady unless I say!” A cheetah was scratching her claws on the ship deck, whimpering, “We’re going to crash into one of those ships-” “AVIS, WE ARE NOT GOING TO CRASH! TRUST ME!” the black fox shouted. “That goes for everyone! We are going to make it through! Have I ever led you wrong before?! Hold - damn - steady!” “You heard the captain!” Grace roared; the fox had to admit that the vocal cords of the quartermistress was a much louder sound that almost seemed to cut through the mist. “Hold steady until she says!” All eleven animals held their breaths, as if the very act of breathing would cause the water to hear and consume them. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a sword. Then Millicent Huchenson and Winifred Daundelyon, a serval and caracal as close as twin sisters (even though they weren’t actual sisters like the Rowes) heard a faint roar coming in front of them, their especially keen ears pounding with blood, and both of them screamed in terror, holding each other. Florence heard the faint roar as well, heard the sailmaker and cooper scream, and immediately bellowed, “DROP ANCHORS AND FURL SAILS RIGHT NOW!” Her crew reacted quickly, knowing that their lives depended on it. Whether Lady Luck existed or not, they knew one thing: they were lucky, for the roar was coming from a waterfall that plummeted down into nothingness - the anchors had managed to cling to rocks just in time to save them from going over. “This has to be the goddamned end of the world…” Isabel Hornboldt moaned pitifully, the jaguaress who served as the navigator unsheathing and sheathing her claws. “There’s nothing on my maps that says anything about a goddamned waterfall!” “That means we’re close to The Dying Night!” Florence shouted, her eyes alight with recognition. “Don’t you girls remember what the legend said?” “Other than some voodoo witch that cursed the pirates who killed her husband?” Sybil Rowe asked curiously, the tigress carpenter looking straight at her lioness sister, Cecily's eyes. “And they were never heard from again? And that everyone who tried to find this treasure died?” the gunner finished in a dour tone. “Cecily, Sybil, curses aren’t real!” the fox captain snorted to herself. Curses? Ridiculous. And they were a much better crew than those that had died; hadn’t they proved it by surviving until now? “Anyway, it’s at the bottom of the waterfall.” “Well, unless you plan on jumping off, I’d love to hear ideas, Flory!” Agnes snapped. “Always grumbling, Agy, always grumbling about something!” Florence retorted, inwardly seething about the childish nickname uttered by the cook. “Don’t you know that there are tributaries that lead downward? Or did you forget about the legend entirely?” The cougaress’s face flushed in annoyance, but Avis Ballett was quick to say, “But we can’t see anything in the mist!” Florence sighed, quickly wrapping a rope around her paw and stepping off of her perch, down to her crew from the crow’s nest, using her weight to counterbalance and land safely on her paws. Her crew had seen her do it so many times that they were no longer afraid for her safety…but they didn’t dare try it themselves. They would follow her anywhere…except with that; some things were just a death wish. “That’s why the legend is called ‘The Dying Night,’” the fox explained, mostly to the cheetah musician, but to the rest of the crew as well. “We wait until dawn; that’s night’s death, that’s when the mist will clear up and reveal the tributaries. Then we go down to them, find the ship, get the loot, divide it, and get out as rich women.” “You’re placing an awfully big bet on a mere legend, Flory,” Denise mused, her paw drumming on the side rail. “Enough with that stupid nickname! We know it’s real, Denise, there’s enough evidence to prove it, especially since it's here in front of our eyes.” Florence’s green eyes were desperate. “You’re my crew; I’d go down with and for you any day, and you know that, but we can’t be pirates forever. This could be the one. This could be the treasure that we could retire with and live like queens.” “I’d settle for a family.” All heads turned to face Isabel, who looked sad. “We’re family, Izzy,” Grace gently coaxed. “No, I meant…we stole this ship from the privateers together, and we're as close as we can get without being blood…but I want something…tangible,” the jaguaress said with a sigh. “No insult meant to you girls, but we see each other every day, every time I wake up on this ship. I’ve heard every argument we could ever hear. I want a different voice.” “Get enough money, and you could buy a family,” Florence said with a smirk. “Florence, not everything’s about scoring that big loot.” To the black fox’s shock, it was Emma that said those words, the normally quiet snow leopardess having a faraway look in her eyes. “I’d love a family myself. We all grew up as orphans; I wanted to know my mom for years. She died, you know. Died in childbirth. Dear ‘Dad’ left me on the docks. We all have similar stories, Florence, even you. Haven't you ever wanted someone to hold you, to love you, no matter what?” Florence sighed angrily. “Look, you want a mommy to feed you, pay a damn wetnurse. Those times are done, and you can’t ever go back. What’s done is done. We’re here right now, so let’s focus on our goal right now." She took a deep breath and rubbed the fur on her temple - a tic that she had when she was trying to calm herself down. "Anyway, we’re all tired, so get some sleep until dawn. Millicent, Winifred, take the first watch.” The fox’s crew looked at her…and let out collective sighs, knowing they weren’t going to change her mind; she could be quite stubborn. It was the trait that brought them this far, and the trait they loved and hated. But she was right, in a way: she had never steered them wrong, had always kept them safe. “Yes, Cap’n,” they chorused. They gathered their ragged blankets, shivering as, one by one, they fell asleep in the cold mist, their dreams right in front of them…one way or another. - Okay, quick explanation about the specific jobs of this crew on their frigate (a smaller ship used in the Golden Age of Piracy): Captain - Democratically elected on pirate ships, believe it or not, although they could just as easily have command stripped of them. In most cases, the captain was the brains, the one who got the ship through fair or foul means. The most successful captains could install rules on the ship. Quartermaster (quartermistress, in this case) - Also democratically elected, the quartermasters were the seconds-in-command of the ship, unlike various the various legitimate vessels (even though the pirates had first and second mates). They were the crew's answer to the pirate captain, sharing their concerns, and being an intermediatory for the captain to give orders to the crew. If the captain had taken another vessel and wanted to start a fleet, the quartermaster would be the captain of that ship. Navigator - Even though the captain and quartermaster often had knowledge of navigation, a pirate ship might have a dedicated navigator. With a good navigator, the captain would know where merchant ships struck, could navigate islands and shallows, that sort of stuff. Boatswain (bosun) - The supervisor of the various seamanship stuff around the ship, monitored the stores, and ensured sails, anchors, and rigging were in good condition. On larger ships, they'd have people under them. Carpenter - The carpenter was the one who was responsible for fixing leaks around the ship, making various repairs, and refitting captured vessels for the purposes of the pirates. They were also responsible for a lot of the, ah...immediate surgeries (i.e., amputations) in the absence of a surgeon. Cooper - The cooper was responsible for assembling barrels, used to keep wet stores, dry stores, gunpowder, water, rum, etc. from spoiling, making them airtight, fixing buckets, etc. Normally on larger ships, but I figured I could make a slight exception. Sailmaker - Sailmakers were basically the chief engineer on a ship, used to stitch and make sails, which, without them, ships went nowhere. In the absence of a surgeon, sailmakers were also responsible for stitching wounds shut. Gunner - The gunner was responsible for the cannons, how much gunpowder was necessary for to hit the target, who shouted the order to fire. Gunner teams (four to six men) were required to be accurate and speedy, and they were outfitted with a lot of guns. Cook - Yes, even pirate ships had cooks. Normally, they were ones with amputations (not here), but while they stole food stores from the ships they captured, and ate from taverns, yes, cooks were needed to prepare food and rum. Musician - Yes, pirates had musicians like fiddlers and trumpeters. Like in others, they created rhythms for shanties, to aid in manual task, and to entertain, but they also contributed to a cacophony of noise during attacks.

Hello All! It's been a while since I've posted a new story, but I'm back with a project I'm very excited about! "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" is the story of Rei Akiyama, a young girl trying to navigate through life in a near future dystopia where the age of majority has been raised to 28 for girls and regressive behavioral therapy has become popular to help girls adjust to these new laws. The world this story is set in is very strongly inspired by/based on the world building of Alteredstates, so a lot of credit goes to him! For those unfamiliar with Alteredstates, he does world building through ad copy and other cultural artifacts. While you don't need to be familiar with his work to understand and appreciate this story, I strongly recommend you check it out! Not only because it will help you immerse yourself in this world, but also because it's genuinely really good! You can find him on Tumblr, Twitter, and Patreon! Without further ado, I give you the prologue and first two chapters of "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" Prologue The night of Wednesday, October 4th, 2028, was unseasonably cold in the city of Greenham; snow was in the forecast for the next day in a city that rarely saw a snowflake until at least January. By 7:28PM, there were already flurries dancing through the cold wind that whipped through the dumpsters behind City Hall, where John Bennet, the head of City Hall security, stood with his foot propping open the emergency exit of the east stairwell. He blew out a lungful of smoke as he dropped his cigarette on the pavement below and crushed it beneath his shoe. John was nothing if not a creature of habit; so much so that, if one cared to be so observant, they could predict exactly what time John would take the last smoke break of his shift before he did his final sweep of the building. He would then go home to his shabby apartment. That night, however, was different. That night, John wouldn’t be going home; he would be meeting a 28-year-old girl he had met on the internet. That night, John’s phone rang just as he was about to go back inside. He fished his phone out of his pocket, smiling when he saw his date’s name on the caller ID, and swiped his finger across the screen as he raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, baby girl,” he said, trying to sound smooth, “I can’t wait to see you.” On the other end of the phone, a young-sounding voice poured honeyed words into his ear as he turned and walked back into the building. Another night, under less distracting circumstances, John would have almost certainly noticed that the door never clicked closed behind him, but the telling silence was lost amongst the words that sent his blood pumping. In a bar a few miles away, Edward Cook was ordering a drink for a girl who looked too young to be there. The girl blushed as she slid her ID and emancipation card across the counter at the bartender’s request, brushing her blue hair behind her ear to look coyly at Edward out of the corner of her eye as she did. Edward never even noticed the girl on the other side of him, or her hand as she slipped a hard plastic card at the end of a black lanyard out of his suit jacket pocket. The card, printed with Edward’s picture and the seal of the Office of Juvenile Affairs, disappeared into the girl’s clutch purse as she quietly slipped away from the bar. She checked the time on her phone as she stepped out into the frosty night: 7:34PM. Elsewhere, the number 9 county bus was pulling over for an unscheduled stop due to a disturbance on the bus involving three young girls. The driver, Richard Lawson, broke up the altercation with the help of another passenger and removed the girls from the bus. That taken care of, an exasperated Richard reported the incident to dispatch, who noted the number 9 bus was running ten minutes behind but was resuming his route at 7:47PM. Back at the courthouse, John, having finished his final sweep of the building and found nothing out of the ordinary, put the finishing touches on his security logs for the night and leaned back in his chair, eyes sweeping over the bank of CCTV monitors that showed snapshots of the interior of the courthouse. It was, however, the clock that John was truly focused on, his eyes constantly flicking between it and the monitors. The moment those numbers turned from 7:59 to 8:00PM, John pushed himself out of his chair and jabbed his finger at the button that caused all of the monitors to wink out simultaneously. Had he waited just a minute longer, he might have seen the black garbed figures slip in from the emergency exit in the east stairwell. He could have watched as they crept up that staircase and slipped into second floor hallway. Another camera would have shown the figures slink down the hallway, past the Permits Office and the Office of Parks and Recreation. On a third camera, the figures stopped in front of a frosted glass door with Office of Juvenile Affairs printed across it in thick, black block letters. One of the figures swiped a card by the panel next to the door, the light turned from red to green, and the figures quickly disappeared through the door. Later, security logs would be pulled showing Edward Cook had accessed the office at 8:04PM; the subsequent investigation would find Cook was not guilty of any direct involvement but would still lose his position on the grounds of gross negligence. By 8:15PM, Greenham City Hall was silent and empty. At 8:17PM, the number 9 county bus blew past the empty bus stop at the far end of the City Hall parking lot. On an ordinary night, Richard would typically idle at this station for a few minutes, but he was working hard to make up for lost time. The next few stops were just as empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of night on a weekday. It was 8:34PM when the bus pulled up to the stop at Greenham Community College, where three girls and four boys boarded the bus, all of them in their late teens and early twenties. Richard Lawson wouldn’t even think to mention this to investigators later, though they likely would have made nothing of it if he had. By 8:50PM, the city of Greenham, a suburb of the nation’s capital city, was settling into its slumber. A few bars and restaurants were still pouring drinks for late night clientele, but curfew was quickly approaching and all those affected were either already home or else rushing to get there. At 8:54PM, the electric engine of the number 9 county bus was humming along through the streets of one such sleepy neighborhood, empty but for Ricard Lawson and a small handful of passengers: a young girl with black hair and tawny skin carrying a bookbag tight to her chest, two boys with their feet on the seats laughing raucously in the back of the bus, and a mother and a daughter riding together. Richard glanced up at the passengers in his rearview mirror and caught the eye of the daughter. She had bright blue eyes, a practical waterfall of golden curls, and looked to be in her early twenties. Richard smiled at the girl in the mirror; he had to admit, she was adorable in her pink shirt and plaid skirtall. She smiled back at him from behind the shield of her pacifier. The mother turned away from the book in her hand and leaned over the girl, slipping one hand up the girl’s skirtall. Richard quickly averted his gaze, suddenly feeling like he was invading their privacy. “Oh, Rebecca,” the older woman sighed quietly, but still loud enough to be heard easily on the otherwise silent bus, “your pull-up is soaked; did you even know you had to go?” The girl’s smile disappeared into her blush as she mumbled some words from behind her pacifier. The mother chuckled. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she ruffled her daughter’s hair, “we’re almost home! Then we can get you changed into your nighttime diapers and feed you a nice bottle before bed, would you like that?” She booped her daughter’s nose and sent the girl into a fit of laughter. The black-haired girl shifted in her seat across from the mother and daughter, obviously trying to avoid looking at them. She glanced at her phone, 9:52PM. Richard Lawson shifted in his seat and tried to ignore the cooing and giggling going on behind him. Little single-family homes passed by as he made his way down Ridgemont Street, and only more in sight as he turned right down Wrighton Square. The bell dinged and Richard slowly pressed the brake, bringing the bus to a stop at the corner or Wrighton and Central Lake Drive. Richard wished his passengers a good night, stay safe, as they all got off. Glancing back in his rearview mirror to confirm the bus was empty, Richard slowly accelerated into the night. Peter Grant watched the bus pull away from the front seat of his Greenham Police Department Cruiser. He scanned the passengers leaving the bus stop. Two young men cross the street and kept walking up Wrighton Square while three women started walking up Central Lake Drive and toward his cruiser. He checked his clock: 9:56, damn near too late for young women to be out alone. “Let’s check it out,” he said to his partner, Dave Clusky, as he stepped out of the cruiser and started crossing the street towards the trio. As Peter approached, the women were backlit by a streetlamp, but he could make out the vaguely feminine shapes of three women. Two of them walked side by side as the third, at least a few inches shorter than the other two, walked a couple of feet behind. Peter raised his flashlight, “Excuse me, ladies,” he called out officiously as the beam of light cut through the night, bringing the slowly drifting flakes of snow into heavy contrast. The three ladies stopped in their tracks. The shorter of the two in front whimpered behind her pacifier and clung to the older woman next to her as they both blinked against the light. The girl behind them gasped inaudibly and stared ahead like a deer in headlights for a moment before raising a hand to protect her eyes from the worst of the light. “Evening, ma’am,” Peter nodded to the older woman, “these your children?” The woman glanced behind her, then back to Peter, “just this one,” she replied, squeezing Rebecca close to her. Peter nodded, “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Best get your little one inside, it looks to be about her bedtime.” The mother laughed politely, “yes, we’ve had a very long day, thank you, officer.” She tugged on Rebecca’s hand and quietly urged the girl on. Peter swept his flashlight over a few degrees to focus his beam on the girl in the white button up shirt and plaid suspender skirt. “Could you lower your hand, miss? How old are you?” “Uhm, nineteen,” she replied nervously, “I know it’s—” “It’s almost curfew,” Peter interrupted her, “you allowed to be out past curfew?” “Um, no, sir, I—” “Yeah, didn’t think so. What’s your name? What are you doing out so late?” “Um, Rei, sir, and I’m coming home from college, sir, I was—” “College?” Dave chimed in, “you got parental permission for that?” “Yes, sir, and I—” “What were you doing at college this late?” Peter asked. “You go to Greenham CC?” “Yes, sir, I was studying—” “Studying,” Dave scoffed, “yeah, right.” “I was, sir, I have—” “You got a pass from your professor?” Peter asked. “Yes, sir, it’s—” “Well?” Dave said impatiently. “Let’s see it,” Peter demanded. “Yes, sir,” the girl reached into her backpack and produced a folded sheet of paper that was immediately snatched out of her hand. “Professor Lewis? English?” Peter read key words off the piece of paper before handing it off to Dave. Dave looked the sheet over, made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, then handed it back to Peter. “Looks legit” “You know it’s almost curfew, kid?” Peter turned back towards the girl, thrusting the paper back at her. “Yes, sorry, I was—” “Yeah, you were at college, you said. You live close by?” “Yes, sir, I—” “Where at?” “Just up the street,” she raised her hand and pointed behind Peter. “Uh huh,” Peter sounded skeptical. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 9:59PM. “Think you can get home before curfew hits, little girl?” He smiled maliciously. The girl’s knees went weak; she clutched her bag to her chest as if it could protect from him the malice in his smile. Her vision tunneled in on the face of Peter Grant and the world around her sounded like it was moving through water. Tick. 10:00PM. As curfew went into effect all over Greenham and it’s surrounding townships, the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall exploded outward, raining fire and rubble into it’s expansive parking lot. The sound of the explosion tore through the still night air, audible as a low rumbling miles away on Central Lake Drive. A portion of the horizon of the night sky lit up. “The fuck…?” Peter cursed. “Fuck me!” Dave swore. The girl let out a quiet yelp and resisted the urge to make a break for it. Silence filled the air in the aftermath of the explosion, and then the radios on Dave and Peter’s shoulders started squawking. They completely forgot about the girl as they scrambled back to their cruiser. Chapter One Snowflakes were melting in Rei Akiyama’s hair as she slumped against the front door of her house. She was still shaking and trying to steady her breath. “You’re late,” a voice said from the living room. “I know, I’m sorry, Mom,” Rei said, still panting slightly as she took her shoes off before entering the room. “The bus was running late; I ran all the way here from the bus stop.” Ms. Akiyama made a sound in her throat as she looked her daughter up and down. “You were studying? Let me see your pass.” “Yes, Mom,” Rei said as she pulled out the now slightly crumpled piece of paper out of her bag and handed it over. “You’re working too hard in school,” Ms. Akiyama said matter-of-factly. “Well, whatever, I’m glad you’re home,” she discarded the paper on the end table, “I was starting to get worried when I heard that rumbling. Did you hear that?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei nodded and chewed on her lip, unsure what else to say on the topic. “Rei, stop chewing your lip, it’s a bad nervous habit.” “Yes, Mom, sorry.” Rei forced herself to stop and instead just looked down at her shoes. “Well?” Ms. Akiyama asked expectantly a moment later. “It’s almost bedtime; shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed? The news said we were supposed to get a few inches of snow, so school will probably be cancelled tomorrow, but I want you in bed on time just in case, okay?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei replied. She tried her best not to turn and run up the stairs, but instead walked casually up them as if it had just been a normal night of studying. Her mother watched her go, sensing something was off about her daughter, but she was unable to put her finger on what, exactly, she was sensing. Rei stopped briefly at the top of the stairs, turned back, and gave a small smile and wave when she saw her mother was still watching, then disappeared around the corner. Ms. Akiyama sighed quietly: what was she going to do with that girl? She was worried what kind of ideas her school was filling her head with, and Rei being out all-night studying didn’t do anything to allay that worry. Picking up the pass Rei had given her, Ms. Akiyama turned and settled back down on the couch. According to the pass, Rei had been working on her midterm essay for English with Professor Lewis. Sighing once more, she set the note aside, making a mental note to ask Rei what she was writing her essay about (maybe that would give her a clue on exactly what kind of idea’s the school was filling Rei’s head with), and turned her attention back to the TV where a mature looking woman was smiling back at her while holding a colorful package. “That why I decided to try new Pampers Overnight Diapers! They are expertly designed for girls who wet the bed,” as the woman delivered the line, she reached her free hand out the side and pulled a young girl of about eight or ten into the frame and into a side hug, “and those who don’t,” the camera pulled out and panned over to reveal an older girl about Rei’s age staring distractedly at her phone seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, “yet,” the mother added after a beat and punctuated it with a wink. Upstairs, Rei leaned against the wall, just out of sight, focusing on getting her breathing back to normal. The night hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but, so far, nothing had gone terribly wrong. She could only hope it stayed that way. Rei pushed herself away from the wall and made her way down the hallway towards her bedroom, closing her door behind her just as downstairs the TV alerted her mother to breaking news. As Ms. Akiyama was stunned to hear of the bombing just a few miles from her, Rei was tossing her backpack on the floor next to her desk and throwing herself face down on her bed. She was slightly dazed and more than exhausted. Part of her couldn’t believe the events of the night. Yes, they had been making plans for weeks now, she had known this night was coming, but now that it was done…it felt surreal. She was terrified of what would come next. Still, there was one more thing she had to do before this night was over. Rei crept back to her bedroom door, listened carefully, then cracked the door ever so slightly. The distant sounds of the TV still drifted up the stairs and the hallway was empty. Closing the door silently, she rushed across the carpet in socked feet to her desk, which, looking back over her shoulder towards the door, she inched away from the wall. Kneeling down, Rei reached behind the desk and pried off a piece of the baseboard to reveal a small crevice between the wall and the floor from which Rei produced a cell phone at least a decade old. It was black with a silver lined screen and a numeric keyboard. Rei brought up the messaging app only to be greeted with over a dozen texts; each was from a different number, but they all said the same thing: “home safe.” She sighed with relief, painstakingly typed out her own missive (“home safe”) on the numeric keyboard and pressed send before immediately replacing the phone in its hiding place and putting everything back in order. Now, Rei thought, it was time to get ready for bed. Chapter Two “It was confirmed early this morning that there were no casualties or injuries in last night’s explosion at the Greenham City Hall, which occurred at exactly 10PM and destroyed most of the building’s eastern half. While authorities have yet to make any statements regarding the cause of the explosion, many are already speculating that this was an act of domestic terrorism committed by the radical leftist feminist group Rebel in response to recent social policy legislation restricting the rights of women under twenty-eight. Supporters of this theory have been quick to point out that the offices of the newly established Office of Juvenile Affairs, which was formed to enforce these new policies, was located in the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall. We’ll be sure to bring you all the breaking details on this story as it develops. Back to you in the studio, Steve.” As the news switched back to less interesting stories, Ms. Akiyama turned her attention away from the tablet propped up on the kitchen counter and back to the cast iron skillet in front of her where the pancakes were beginning to form bubbles along the edge of the batter. She flipped them with the kind of perfection that only came with years of practice and shook her head, it was just terrible what had happened. She knew some people thought the new laws were going too far, but surely bombing buildings was going just as far, if not further. No, it wasn’t the proper way to go about voicing dissent at all. And if this was the kind of stuff feminism was preaching these days, maybe there was some sense to these new laws. Certainly they didn’t teach girls to behave that way when she was younger. Ms. Akiyama just prayed Rei’s head wasn’t being filled with this kind of stuff at that college she had begged so hard to go to. Maybe it wasn’t too late to put her in a vocational school; with a little discipline, Rei could make an excellent secretary. Or maybe she could get Rei a job working at a daycare; Rei always liked children, and maybe tapping into Rei’s maternal instincts was just what was needed to make sure she stayed on the right path. Or, there was always… No, no, Ms. Akiyama shoved that thought away. Rei was a good kid; a bit headstrong, but a good kid, surely that option was too drastic. Ms. Akiyama sighed as she stacked the pancakes on the steadily growing pile; she just wanted Rei to be safe and have a nice, happy life. She didn’t want her daughter falling in with the wrong crowd and getting herself in trouble. It wasn’t easy raising a daughter in such complicated times. Ms. Akiyama was still musing on such matters when Rei shuffled sleepily into the kitchen, almost instinctively following the smell of pancakes. “Pancakes?” Rei asked hopefully. “Does that mean school is canceled?” Mom typically never made pancakes on weekdays. “It sure does,” Ms. Akiyama replied cheerfully, trying to hide the somber mood the news had put her in. “Have you looked outside? We got quite a lot of snow!” Rei grinned and rushed out of the kitchen and into the living room and its bay window overlooking their front yard and the street beyond. Everything was white and brilliantly bright in the morning sun, covered in what must have been at least five or six inches of snow. Even the road was covered; it seemed like the snowplows hadn’t made it to their neighborhood yet. Rei couldn’t help but stare out the window in wonderment; she had always loved the snow. There was just something magical about it. Behind her, Ms. Akiyama leaned against the door frame and grinned. When it came to snow, kids were always kids. “Come on,” Ms. Akiyama said after giving Rei a few moments to take in the wintery spread, “the pancakes are getting cold.” She turned and headed back in to the kitchen without checking to make sure Rei was following her. The news was once again talking about last night’s incident, so Ms. Akiyama quickly turned it off as she grabbed the plate of pancakes; she didn’t want to upset Rei with such terrible news first thing in the morning. “So,” Ms. Akiyama said as she set the plate of pancakes on the table and Rei settled into her seat, “you were working on an essay with your professor last night?” She grabbed the syrup from the fridge before settling into her own seat. “Um, yeah,” Rei responded simply as she loaded her plate with pancakes, “my midterm essay,” she added after a moment. “Oh, that’s nice,” Ms. Akiyama passed the syrup across the table and took a couple pancakes off the stack for herself. “What’s it about?” “Um,” Rei was drenching her pancakes in syrup, “well, it’s…well, our professor gave us some articles to choose from and we just have to like respond to one of them.” “Interesting, what kind of articles?” “Just, you know, current events stuff.” “Uh-huh, and what article did you choose?” Sure, Ms. Akiyama was testing the waters, trying to see what kind of stuff Rei was learning at school, but, to her credit, she was genuinely interested in her daughter’s life. Rei, on the other hand, was getting nervous. Her mother didn’t usually ask her this many questions about her schoolwork. Rei liked that her mother didn’t ask her about her schoolwork. Rei thought the less her mother asked about her schoolwork, the better. Why was her mother suddenly interested? She thought about lying, but if her mother asked to see the essay, she’d be caught immediately. “Well, just about…about the passing of The Hayes Act…” “Oh, I see.” Rei shoveled a too large bite of pancakes into her mouth to avoid having to respond. Oh, I see? What did that mean? Rei tried to smile around the bite of pancakes, but her eyes were searching her mother’s face for anything that might hint to her true reaction. Ms. Akiyama worked to keep her face as passive as possible, raising her cup and taking a long, slow sip of coffee to help her efforts. She had barely discussed the act with her daughter since its passage six months ago. She hadn’t needed to much, and it had always felt like such a…touchy subject. “Why did you choose that article?” Ms. Akiyama asked, trying hard to sound casual but interested and definitely non-confrontational. Just a mom interested in her daughter’s schoolwork. Rei speared a hunk of pancake with her fork and cut it away from the rest with her knife, “Um, I just thought the article was interesting,” she spoke with her head down, giving her voice a muffled quality. “What was the article about?” Ms. Akiyama knew Rei had strong feelings about The Hayes Act, and she couldn’t blame her. Rei had turned nineteen a month before the law had passed; she had been an adult for thirteen months when she once again became a child in the eyes of the law for another nine years. Of course, Ms. Akiyama understood why her daughter felt so strongly about it; she respected Rei’s passion, but she wished Rei could accept that there was nothing that could be done. She wished Rei could just accept that the world wasn’t what her mother had promised it would be she told Rei she could grow up to be whatever she wanted. “Just,” Rei shrugged, “I guess the author was talking about how it shouldn’t have passed and stuff…” The two were in a minefield; they both knew it. Neither wanted this to end in an explosion, but one couldn’t leave, and the other couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Oh,” Ms. Akiyama said, “do you talk about that kind of stuff a lot in school?” The last time they had discussed The Hayes Act had been when it had come time for Rei to enroll in her second year at Greenham Community College. With Rei then legally a child, she needed Ms. Akiyama’s permission to continue attending college. Ms. Akiyama could have stopped her; she had certainly been tempted to do it. Rei shrugged, “What do you mean ‘that kind of stuff’?” “Stuff like The Hayes Act? Politics?” “I guess, sometimes.” “What kind of stuff do they teach you about it?” Rei shrugged, “I mean, they just like…explain how it came to be. Historically, you know?” “I see.” Ms. Akiyama could sense her daughter getting…defensive? Evasive? She was certainly becoming something. Maybe it was time to pump the brakes. “I just worry,” Ms. Akiyama said, genuinely thinking it would help defuse the situation. “Worried?!” Rei said a little too loudly, “there’s nothing to worry about, Mom!” “It’s just…I hear a lot these days about what kinds of things colleges are teaching and—” “Mo-om!” “—and I don’t want them filling your head with the wrong kinds of ideas, that’s all!” “Mom, they are not…brainwashing me, okay?” “I didn’t say brainwashing, okay? I just hear what kinds of things colleges teach these days, that’s all,” Ms. Akiyama repeated. Rei slumped in her chair. Her mom had managed to ruin pancakes. “I just want you to be happy,” Ms. Akiyama said after a long, awkward pause. She reached across the table to take her daughter’s hand. “College just makes things harder for most girls these days, and, besides, you study so much, it’s not good for you.” “But I like school, Mom. It makes me happy.” “Well, why don’t we sign you up for one of those extended high school for girls programs?” Ms. Akiyama smiled, genuinely thinking it would be a good suggestion. “Ugh, Mom,” Rei withdrew her hand and shot her mother a withering look, “those are just housewife classes.” “There’s nothing wrong with that, Rei!” “I’m not saying there is,” Rei protested, “it’s just not what I want to do.” “I know, you want to be a teacher, but I just don’t…well…you can’t be a teacher for another nine years, what if by then they don’t let women be teachers anymore?” A silence fell over the room as both mother and daughter felt the weight of that thought. It was a legitimate concern. “I don’t know, Mom,” Rei said at last, sounding crestfallen. “But what am I supposed to do?” Ms. Akiyama frowned. Like most mothers, deep down she just wanted her child to be happy. Part of her really wished her child could have her dream, but most of her knew it simply wasn’t meant to be and there was nothing that could change that. Most of her just wanted to help Rei find another way to be happy. Without a word, Ms. Akiyama rose from the table and cleared their plates. Breakfast was clearly over. On her way out of the kitchen, she lightly ruffled Rei’s hair, “Go on,” she said, “enjoy your snow day, okay? But just…think about the extended high school program?” Rei nodded.

This will be my first story that I have written on DailyDiapers. I don't consider myself a writer and most of my writing experience over the last ten years has been scientific papers. I welcome any constructive criticism and feedback to make the story better. This story is something that I have been thinking about writing for around a year and I think I have all of the major plot points down with an ending planned and epilogue. I don't know exactly how long this story will be but it will be a novel length. I plan on averaging a chapter a week at this point. The story will center around our main character William Gauss, who is an applied math graduate student at Arizona State University. The story is centered around an illness that Will gets in the beginning. This story will be a slow burn in the beginning, as far as ABDL content goes, but if you stick with the story, our main character will be in the deep in of diapers soon enough. Since I am new to writing, I did base all my characters off of people in my life but all the names and relationship types are changed. I also am trying to make this story as realistic as possible, so I will use real places in the US. I plan to draw a lot from my own experiences for this story, but I have never lived in the places or attended the universities in this story. The only science fiction of this story will be Will's illness, but I will do my best to make it as realistic as possible from a medical standpoint. Saving Grace Chapter One I leaned back into my chair, stretching my arms above my head. It was getting close to 5 pm and after a long afternoon of grading 60 calculus II student's homework, I had finally finished for the day. Shutting my eyes for a second, I contemplated the lowly life of an applied mathematics Ph.D. student and Teaching Assistant. Don't get me wrong, I love the classes I am taking, and I discovered that I love teaching the calculus recitation classes and working at the tutoring center. Even my students tell me that I make a great teacher. But out of all my responsibilities, there is one thing that I have the hardest time motivating myself to do; grading 4 to 8 hours a week. With 60 students, it can be very mind-numbing. I open my eyes and look around my small office. I share this office with two other Ph.D. students, but unlike them, I use our office. They like to do most of their work at home if they can and I usually only see them briefly a few times a week. Not that I don't mind, it's nice to pretty much have my own office. I shut my laptop and stuffed it into my backpack and grabbed my bike that was leaning against the wall opposite of my desk. Opening my office door and pushing my bike out, I turn around and lock my door for the day. Pushing my bike down the corridor, I make my way to the elevator. As I get halfway there I hear someone behind me shout out, ``Hey Will.'' I turn around to see it is one of my friends and fellow grad students Steven walking down the corridor toward me. Steven is a guy of average height, maybe a little shorter, with an average build. He has shaggy black hair, a full beard that is kept neat and trimmed, and brown eyes behind a pair of glasses. We have been friends since starting at Arizona State University almost two years ago. We met at in-service week, the week before classes started. As he made his way to me, I said, "What's up, Steven.'' "Getting ready to leave for the day; have you started on the Abstract Algebra homework yet? I am stuck on the proof dealing with factor rings,'' Steven told me. I said, "I started all the proofs for each problem but have not really delved into trying to solve them yet. I plan on spending a few hours tomorrow trying to get the homework done.'' "Cool, hit me up tomorrow when you get done with classes and we can meet up and work on the homework together,'' he said. "Will do, I will shoot you a text when I am walking out of my last class tomorrow. See you tomorrow.'' I made my way to the elevator and hit the call button. The doors open up to reveal no one inside, so I push my bike into the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. After a short ride, the doors open up and I push my bike towards the exit. Hitting the handicap button by one of the exit doors. I push my bike through the exit and say a silent prayer to myself, thanking God for the Americans with Disabilities Act, or it would be a hassle getting my bike in and out of the building. Walking out of the Wexler Building, the eight-story building that has been my home during the day since moving here, I push my bike to the end of the sidewalk. I hop on my bike and begin my two-mile daily commute to my apartment just off campus. It is early March and even though I am in the desert climate of Tempe, Arizona, just outside Phoenix. The temperature can still get chilly and thankfully, I have my hoodie on to protect me from the slight chill in the air on my bike ride home. As I am riding my bike through campus, I think to myself how different Arizona is compared to my home state of Georgia. The place I called home until moving here a little over 18 months ago. The high temperatures never bothered me too much because of the lack of humidity, but the lack of humidity did take me some time to get used to. I definitely had to start using lotion and lip balm regularly to keep my skin from peeling off my body. Looking off into the distance, I can make out one of the sights that make me love this place, the mountains that surround a third of the city. After a short 10-minute bike ride, I pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex, passing by my parked silver 2011 Toyota 4-runner that I rarely drive during the week. My apartment building is a two-story building, with a stucco exterior with multiple light colors adorning the walls. I hop off my bike at one of the stairwells that lead to my apartment on the second floor. Hoisting my bike over one of my shoulders, I make my way up the stairs and down the catwalk that runs along the front doors to all the apartments. Standing at the door of my home, I unlock the door and push my bike inside. Walking into my one-bedroom apartment, I lean my bike against one of the chairs of my dining room table. My home is not the most luxurious, but as a single student in my twenties, I made it a very cozy place for me. Furnish by mostly thrift stores and use items off Facebook. The main open floor plan of my apartment has a desk on one side of the front door facing the window, made using two old filing cabinets with a one-inch thick piece of stained hardwood to form the top of the desk. Beside my desk is a large whiteboard mounted on the wall for writing reminders and working on homework. My office area is complete with a nice leather chair. Beside my office area is my living room area complete with a cloth couch with two end tables on either side with lamps and family pictures on top of the tables. In front of my couch is a nice used area rug with a hardwood coffee table stained a dark brown. On the wall opposite my desk is my large flat-screen TV. mounted on the wall itself. On the other side of my front door is the dining area with a white wooden table and four white chairs with wicker seats. The kitchen area consists of a large island with a stove in its center, and cabinets below the counter, and a breakfast bar on the other side. There are three hanging light fixtures above the island. Running along the wall are floor-to-ceiling cabinets with counters and a sink, dishwasher, and refrigerator. The walls are painted off-white with an accent light green painted on the kitchen wall and island. The floors are a composite light wood pattern that runs throughout the apartment. There is an alcove behind the kitchen that leads to the bathroom and the bedroom. I kick my shoes off by the door and I am greeted with the smell of pot roast that has been cooking in the crock-pot all day while I was at school. I walk through the kitchen into my bedroom. My bedroom consists of a queen-sized bed in its center with a nightstand on one side with a lamp and my wireless phone charger sitting on top. To my right is a large dresser with a lamp and a middle-size flat-screen TV. on top. All the furniture is made of hardwood and stained dark brown to match. Beside the doorway is a closet that runs the length of the wall with large light green sliding doors. Tucked away on one side of the closet is a washer/dryer combo. Walking to my dresser, I pull out one of the drawers to grab a pair of gray sweats and a white tee shirt. I strip my clothes off from the day and throw them into the hamper beside my dresser. Quickly slipping on my sweats and tee shirt, I can now put the long day behind me. Walking back into my kitchen, I take a small pot from one of the cabinets by my stove and set it on the stovetop. Turning around I reach into my pantry cabinet and grab the half-empty large bag of white rice. Turning the stove on, I mix enough rice and water into the pot to make 4 cups of rice. With twenty minutes to spare, I walk over and collapse on the couch, and grab the remote to turn on Netflix. Flipping through Netflix for about 10 minutes, I could not make up my mind and decided to re-watch Taylor Thomson's latest special. A few minutes into the show, my rice is now done and I get a bowl out of the cabinet by the sink and a fork out of the drawer next to the sink. I serve myself half the cooked rice and take the lid off my crock pot to ladle in a big helping of pot roast with potatoes and carrots. I sit back down on my couch with my dinner and a can of sparkling water and continue watching my show. I take a bite and savor the flavor of the roast and how tender it is after slow cooking all day. I may not be a chef, but when I set my mind to it, I can always put together a good home-cooked meal. After finishing the bowl and taking a few sips from my beverage, I decide on seconds and finish off the rest of the rice with another helping out of the crock-pot. With my stomach full and my show wrapping up, I go to the sink to rinse out my bowl, and the pot and load them into the dishwasher. Turning my attention to my pot roast, I slid the pot with the lid out of the crock-pot and set it into the refrigerator to heat up and eat off later this week. With it only being 8 pm I lay back down on the couch and turn on Shane Gillis' latest special. As I lay there watching t.v., I notice that I am getting tired and having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I think to myself, that the day must have taken more out of me than I thought. Deciding to call it an early day, I turn off the TV, throwing the now empty can in the trash, and walk into my bathroom to get ready for bed. Walking into my small bathroom, with a small white vanity with a sink and a cabinet mounted on the wall above with a built-in mirror, a toilet right beside it, and a bathtub/shower along the wall opposite the door. The bathroom is completed with white walls and light brown tile for flooring. I look into the mirror and see a young man looking back. I am tall, at 6 feet even, with a slim build. I have dark brown hair, a full beard that is kept neatly trimmed, and hazel eyes that seem to change from an almost brown to an almost green color depending on the lighting. I begin my short nightly routine by brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth out with mouthwash. After spitting a couple of mouthfuls of water from the sink faucet, I look back into the mirror, taking note that my hair is starting to get shaggy. I make a mental note to get a haircut this weekend. I take a pit-stop over to the toilet to empty my bladder and with a quick wash of my hands I move towards my bedroom. Crawling into bed under the covers, I set my alarm for the morning, noting that it was only 9:30 pm, and set it on the charger. Turning over in bed it only takes me a few minutes to succumb to sleep. I wake in the middle of the night from a dead sleep, with the immediate need to throw up and throw up now! I bolt from my bed and rush to the bathroom. I make it over the toilet just in time to projectile vomit all over the bowl. My stomach is twisted in knots and feels like it is turning inside out as I throw up the contents of my stomach. When I finally stopped, I took some toilet paper to wipe my mouth with and flushed the toilet. Before the toilet could finish flushing, I was hit with another immediate need. I need to poop and I need to poop now! Turning around and jerking my sweat pants and boxer briefs down, I plant my butt on the toilet seat in time for a massive wave of semi-solid poop to exit my rear. After sitting on the toilet for a few minutes, I can finally take stock of what is going on. I notice that all my joints ache and I feel like I am coming down with either the flu or a stomach virus. After wiping, I turn around to flush and notice that I pooped a lot. The amount suggests that I have not gone in a few days, even though I had a normal bowel movement the morning before like I do every morning. Stepping over to the sink I wash my hands and wash my mouth out with mouthwash. I step into the kitchen and grab a glass of water to sip on. I walk back to my bedroom with the glass of water. Looking at my phone, the time is shortly after 1 am. I hope to myself that I feel better by tomorrow morning. I crawl back into bed and as soon as my head hits the pillow I pass out. Waking again, I notice that it is still dark outside and I feel nauseous and I have to poop again. I jump out of bed, run to the bathroom, and sit on the toilet to have my bowels explode into the toilet. As I sit there, I get more nauseated and I have to lean over to the bathtub to throw up what consists of stomach bile into it. Again, my joints ache, and I now have a headache to add to the list. I sit for a moment to collect myself. I wipe, flush, and rinse the tub out. I go to the sink to wash my hands and mouth out and go back to bed. As I am lying in bed, I think to myself that I am glad I don't have any teaching responsibilities tomorrow, I will definitely need to stay home from school. No less than 5 minutes later I fall back to sleep.

Katie Ann What do you do when you look 7 years old, but you're actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen's entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn't the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her how she looks, 7 years old? By Becky Anne ©2018-2024 ~o~O~o~ Chapter One: The Website Nineteen-year-old Kathleen sat staring at her laptop, working on the courage to create an account and profile on the website she just found. She had found this website after taking out her frustrations on the Google search engine. Frustrations she acquired by rage quitting her multiplayer roleplayer game. Baron, her master in the game, turned out to be like most guys she has met online, only wanting sex, cybersex in Baron’s case. Submissive Match, the name of the website, kept staring at her from her purple laptop. It was distracting her from figuring out what she needed to acquire for her return to Mountain College. Not realizing she was doing it, she clicked the yellow create account button. Moving some of her auburn hair out of her view, she flipped back to her list of supplies needed for her return to college next month. “Hmm, most of these things I already have…” she thought. “Oh, I better buy some more notebooks. While I am at it, I will buy that new book by Percy Jackson, ‘Sea of Monsters.’” “It is too bad that Stephanie had financial aid issues. I wonder how this Allison is? Is she going to have a problem with a college roommate who is short enough to be her little sister?” She continued to herself as she looked at her roommate's information pamphlet. Flipping back to the website, “Let's see what they want… I am a submissive… oh, that pulls up a whole new form… some of the standard stuff … Kathleen … Why do they want my middle name … Annabelle Telgenhof … March 16, 1987… I guess the owner's choice for a submissive name … Email… Don’t send me spam from your sponsors… Don’t share my email with suggested owners... Password… I am not sure why they want this information… Weight… 55 pounds soaking wet… Height ... 4’5” rounded up... their selection doesn’t even go that small. I guess I have to choose less than 5’... Location… Pennsylvania… I guess I am looking for an online owner. Oh, what the hell, an offline owner, too... Let’s see, a short questionnaire, a short description, and a recent picture will finish it off.” Looking at the time, “Wowser, that took longer than I thought it would,” Kathleen thought as she put her laptop to sleep. She meets her mother, Marlene, in the kitchen after walking out of her bedroom. “Hello, sweetie. Do you want some ice cream?” Marlene asked as she was scooping into a bowl. “You know I can never turn down cookie dough, Mommie.” "We can watch AFHV as we eat it.” “Sounds like a plan.” “What are your plans for tomorrow while I am at school?” “I told them I would do some volunteering at the zoo since time is getting short until my return to college. I need to stop for college supplies before or after; I just hope I don’t get pulled over for underage driving this time,” Kathleen mentioned. “That still happening?” Her mother asked. “Usually once a week, Mommie.” “Not much we can do about that, unfortunately, sweetie, except for you to grow a few inches,” Marlene pointed out. “Or afoot? Neither an inch nor a foot is going to happen, Mother. That ship sailed ages ago,” Kathleen said crossly, turning her eyes towards the TV. Marlene nodded and watched the television in silence. ~o~O~o~ Rolling out of bed at about 7 o’clock the following day, Kathleen booted up her laptop as she got dressed and ready for a day of volunteering. Coming back to the computer, she started her everyday morning computer habits, email, MySpace, Yahoo Messenger, and a few websites… before logging on to Submissive Match. “Let's see if I got any hits from my profile.” She discovered after she was finally logged in that there were three messages waiting for her. Looking at the first, “Eww, I really didn’t need to see that guy’s dick, this might of been a big mistake. … Oh, there is an ignore feature, thank god.” “Here goes nothing for the second, … interesting name… I seriously doubt his name is really Beast…” “Hello, Little Girl, you’re just the kind of young girl I would really like to meet. You would be perfect kneeling in front of me …” Other than the nickname for herself and himself, this guy isn’t too bad so far, Kathleen thought. “... with my legs spread wide open, and pants zipper down …” “EEEWWW,” Kathleen said out loud, “Spoke too soon!” and she couldn’t click the ignore button fast enough. Leaving the third message for later, she went to get a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Looking at the time, “I will have to leave the third message and college supplies ‘til after the zoo.” ~o~O~o~ “Hello Kathleen, thank you for coming. Why don’t you take the hedgehog and sit down on a bench just inside the entrance to the zoo? You should get plenty of exposure there,” Mr. Cooper, the zoo’s volunteer coordinator, instructed while thinking to himself about that also places her in a place where we can watch her. I am always worried she may be kidnapped, being so small and easy to be confused with an actual grade school kid. Kathleen nodded and headed to where the educational animals were kept. Continuing the thoughts, Mark took a memory trip back five years. “I first told her she was too young to volunteer. She had to be 14. I could have sworn it was a five or six-year-old asking to volunteer. I am kind of glad she pleaded her case and produced proof of age since she has been one of my best teenage volunteers.” He continued to himself, “I will never tell her, but that outfit is custom-ordered for her. I also purposely took the tags off to hide the fact that it is a size 7/8 girls' polo shirt.” Looking out of his office window towards the entrance plaza that it overlooked, he noticed Kathleen was setting up right where he requested her to. “I have never discussed it with her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she were self-conscious about her height. I would be if I were her,” he thought before returning back to his volunteer hours spreadsheet. ~o~O~o~ “Riiinnnggg” “Susquehanna Valley Zoo, Volunteer department, Mark speaking, how can I help you?” … “How old is your daughter?” … “Sorry, she is a few years too young. She has to be 14 to volunteer.” … “The one with a hedgehog today? She is actually 19 years old.” … “Unfortunately, a common misunderstanding with her. Have your daughter give me a call in a couple of years.” … “Talk to them then.” Hanging up the phone, he looked out the window at the object of the confusion. A group of grade school kids currently surrounded her. The only thing that set her apart from the other kids was the green polo shirt, which signified that she was a volunteer. ~o~O~o~ “OK, Mr. Cooper, I have returned the hedgehog to the education department.” “Thank you, Kathleen, five hours today?” Mark said, looking at the clock. “What was your driving time?” he continued. “Yes, that is correct, and it takes me twenty minutes each way to get here.” “When do I expect you back?” “Unless you have a better idea, I should return Wednesday at the opening,” Kathleen said, thinking of her plans. She had agreed to go out with some high school friends tomorrow. “Works for me. When do you return to college?” “My parents and I are going in a convoy next month, August 13th.” “You will be missed again this year.” “Aww, I will be back again next year,” Kathleen said as she felt her face color up. Showing her to the door, Mark turned his attention to entering Kathleen’s hours in his spreadsheet. “That girl is the closest thing to a little girl I would ever have. I can’t seem to produce the required X chromosome for a girl,” he thought, thinking of his three boys currently in daycare. Meanwhile, Kathleen started driving to a bookstore to buy her prize book and required school supplies. Seeing a cop tailgating her in her rearview mirror, she checked her speed. Noticing she was actually under the speed limit, she thought, “Not again. Can I ever drive without being pulled over for underage driving?” After five minutes and no lights, she wondered what was taking him so long to pull her over. Five more minutes later, the cop slowed and made a U-turn. Kathleen thought that was strange. He tailed me and didn’t pull me over. ~o~O~o~ Pulling into the driveway, she couldn’t get in the house fast enough to check that third message that had been calling her all day. After booting up her laptop, she went to the kitchen to get a glass of peach tea. “Let's see,” Kathleen said, entering her details on the website. “Oh, two new messages. I must have received another today.” Opening up the first message, the third from this morning, she began to read it out loud, “Dear Buttercup, I was inspecting the new profiles and happened to notice yours. I am intrigued by your profile, and I hope to hear from you. Master Adam” “Well, that was short to the point and not creepy,” Kathleen said, going to the second message... “Not another dick picture,” Kathleen screamed, going to the ignore button. After returning to Master Adam’s message, she checked out his profile. “Adam Dale, 25 years old, Pennsylvania, Looking for online/offline submissive, oh he isn’t bad looking.” Hitting the reply button, she typed, using the submissive name he gave her, “Dear Sir, Buttercup is intrigued by your profile too and interested in communicating with you. I am not sure how to go about the next step. - Buttercup.” Putting her computer to sleep, she went into the living room to watch some television. ~o~O~o~ Author's Note: Comments, and questions are always welcomed. I am currently writing chapter 69 of this story. -- Thanks Becky

Well, here goes nothing. I have posted on ABDL sites before but I don't think my heart was really in those stories. That has changed now, this story is one that I have put plenty of work into and I am finally ready to test it out on a real audience. I have a few chapters ready in the coming weeks but, based on how things go I hope to move to a regular schedule as I have lots of plans! Note regarding grammar, well I am terrible at it. I don't have an editor and rely mainly on re-reads and free web grammar checks so, don't judge me too bad, ha! Hope you Enjoy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The sound of a flip-flop smacking the bottom of a foot and the ground in an annoying, repetitive beat filled the car as they approached their destination. “Tara, stop that!” her mother spoke sharply. Tara leaned up from the clenched position she was in at the back of the van and pressed her foot down hard to stop the tapping. She had been holding back her bladder for the better part of the trip. The freeway separating Tara’s house from her mother’s best friend was legendary. She had been holding back the two colas she had pounded at lunch and was thankful the end was nearly in sight. “I keep telling you it's not healthy for you to keep doing this to yourself; I thought we were past this.” Diane continued. In her current condition, Tara couldn’t help but agree with her. Ever since she was little, she had issues with bathroom breaks. As a small child, she was potty trained early, but that did not stop her from constantly having accidents. Her mom always said she had her ‘head in the clouds’; she would be so focused on something that nothing else would matter… nothing. As she grew older, Tara continued to have accidents that would go up and down in frequency. When she started school, she earned the unpleasant nickname ‘Tinkle Tara’. Between accidents and a bout with bedwetting when she was 7 and 9 years old, it looked like she was doomed to it. However, for whatever reason, a switch had flipped, and it had been nearly 8 years since ‘Tinkle Tara’ was uttered. On the other hand, in the last few months, Tara has been putting her bathroom training through the ringer. Time after time, she found herself holding her bladder and aching from the effort. Whether it was at the mall, watching a movie, or sitting through classes, the urge to go was becoming more frequent and urgent each time. She had not told her mother that she almost always felt the need to go ‘right now’ whenever she had to pee. It never helped matters that her mother was a health nut and had drilled into her to keep hydrated, so she always was drinking water. It was a habit, but then again, it was only in the last few months that things started to go sideways. Now Tara was also going to be playing ‘big sister/babysitter’ to a 10 year old. Her mother and Brittany’s, had been friends since High School and now work for the same company. Both had been married and are now divorced. With lucrative jobs and a daughter, they were about as close as any family member. So when they both were chosen to go overseas to be in charge of operations in a new business move for the company, they quickly decided the plan. As Tara was 18, she would watch and take care of Britteny until the two mothers got back, which would be around the beginning of the summer. “Now remember, you have to be in charge of Brittany and keep up with your school work. Those are the two most important things,” her mother said, for about the hundredth time. “Mom, I know. I have hung out with Brittany plenty of times before,” Tara countered. “Not for this long and with this many responsibilities. Plus, Cathrine has… Well something else that you are going to have to keep track of,” her mom finished. “Oh?” the girl raised her eyebrow. “She will tell you,” her mother said giving her a look that said, this is serious. As the van pulled into the garage of Cathrine and Brittany’s home, Tara shot like a bullet out the door into the house. Catherine was blurred as she shot for the bathroom in the room she usually stayed in on the second floor. Scrambling through the door, the sight of the bathroom made Tara relax. “No!” she gasped, hurriedly tired to get the button on her shorts undone. She had relaxed too early, and now things were out of control. Finally sitting on the seat, a sharp but blissful relief crept over her. She had not realized how much and how painful this time had been. Tara knew that she should stop doing this but, for now, inspected the damage to her shorts. The whole crotch of the garment was a darker shade of blue and was a lost cause. Luckily, she had one other pair close to these that she could grab from her bag and slip into. This was only the third time this had happened, but it certainly was not something she enjoyed. Slipping into fresh clothes, she made her way back down to the living room to ‘officially’ greet Cathrine and Brittany. “Whew, sorry about that,” she greeted Catherine. “It’s alright, pretty on par for you, ha!” Cathrine jested, then her voice went low,“Follow me to the kitchen.” Her mother was talking with Brittany, and the girl was looking like she did not have much to say, so she followed Catherine. “So there is something that I have been keeping from you; I just told her mother last night,” she let out with a long breath. “Oh no, is something wrong?” Tara blurted out. “No, no, nothing serious, but… Brittany has been having some troubles. Bathroom troubles,” she responded flatly. A heat rose in Tara’s cheeks, and she simply said, “Oh…” “Now I know that you had your own issues, but I recently saw a book about accidents among older children and teenagers. I have Brittany following some rules that are designed to help her get through this phase.” Cathrine explained as she put a hardcover book on the counter. “The front of the book explains how the rules work - the ins and outs as they were. And in the back there is the list of rules and a little chart if you need it,” she went on. Tara picked up the book, and before she could utter a word, Cathrine continued, “You obviously don’t have to read it, and Brittany knows the first two rules by heart now, but you should read them and she has to follow them. Supplies are in the upstairs hall closet.” “Supplies?” the girl questioned. “Well, in a nutshell, Brittany has to use protection whenever she has accidents. The more accidents, the more protection, and the more…eh… privileges she loses.” the older woman explained. “Ah, well, I guess that makes sense.” Tara concluded. She couldn’t believe it, Brittany was in diapers! It was a shock only because there had never been a hint to her that her little friend may have had such troubles. Well, Tara herself was smaller, but not terribly so, but she was still taller by a couple of inches. Brittany had a heart shaped face, round blue eyes, and shorter brunette hair, while Tara had sandy blonde hair past her shoulders, brown eyes, and a longer face. Both had followed their mother’s genes, like matched sets. “Cathrine, we need to get to the airport,” her own mother called out. “Oh yes, coming!” she replied, and then to Tara, “Just read the rules and make sure Brittany follows them, simple as it gets!” With that, she hugged Tara and made her way to the living room, where her daughter and Tara’s mother were. There were the usual tearful goodbyes, as the realization of how long it would be before they were all together again sunk in. All too soon, it was just Tara and Brittany watching TV in silence as the girls both recovered from the painful departure. Tara ordered pizza as a way of cheering them both up, and by the time the large pizza and sodas had been consumed, it was close to bedtime. She, Tara, knew it was time to broach the subject. She decided to do so in a manner that showed she trusted Brittany to know what she had to do. “Well, I guess it is time for bed, Brit,” she stated. Brittany yawned. “Yeah, I guess so.” The girl got up from the couch and made her way to the stairs. “Wait, Brittany!” she called to stop the girl. “Is there something we need to talk about? Some rules?” The younger girl froze, and she stiffened as she turned to face Tara, so she went on the offensive. “Before you say anything, it's alright. I had problems when I was around your age,” she tried to soothe Brittany. “I don’t want to follow the rules without mom,” she almost spat back at Tara. “Look, this will go smoothly if we just follow what your mom wants you to do.” Tara countered. “But… it's just… It's so embarrassing, and I want to just be normal.” Brittany pleaded, “Please don't make me do them.” It nearly broke Tara’s heart to see Brittany clinging onto a small hope that she would be out of whatever she had been enduring. “What exactly are the rules you are supposed to follow, i haven't read them yet because I want you to tell me,” Tara said. “Well, umm… you… There are five rules, and if you have any, you know. Then you start at 1 and go from there.” Brittany mumbled. “I see, and what rule are you on now?” She questioned further. “1B,” Brittany said out of the side of her mouth. “1B?” “Yeah, the first rule has three parts… some kind of like grace period before the rest of the rules, I guess.” Brittany had crossed her arms and had not looked at Tara since she started talking about the rules. “How far have you gone down the list?” Tara asked with complete curiosity. “Just two, but it was awful.” Brittany huffed. Tara was in a bind; she didn’t want to fight Brittany for weeks on end. And she didn’t want to have to deal with Brittany having accidents she could prevent. But most of all, she did want to have fun with Brittany; she really was like a little sister. The girl shouldn’t have to feel alone in this… then it hit her. It was drastic, but it just might work. “Alright, let's look at 1B,” Tara announced. Going into the kitchen, she opened the back of the book and found the page with 1A at the top. She read out, “1A - a single day-time accident will result in a pull-up for 1 day and night.” Turning the page, she also read, “1B - a single night-time accident will result in regular pull-ups for 2 days & night-time pull-ups for 2 nights.” Brittany was bright red but Tara talked fast to ease the embarrassment. “So you…” “The night before last, this is my second night. Mom let me go without during the day today because she was leaving,” the girl clarified. “Good, then we will both follow the rules going forward.” Tara stated. “Both?” Brittany asked. “Both,” she replied. “What good is that? It's still just me that will have to do any of it!” Brittany screeched. “Hold on. Did you see me dash upstairs when I got here?” Tara asked, and the girl nodded. “Well, I didn't quite make it, and my shorts got a bit wet. So I guess that puts me on 1A, right?” she said, matter of fact. “You're lying,” Brittany huffed, but Tara was prepared for this. A quick trip to her room and her shorts from earlier presented to Brittany were all the evidence she needed. “Whoa!” Brittany exclaimed. “Told you, so we will both be in pull-ups tonight. Your mom gave you a break, so we will just go with the pull-ups tonight. And if we are both dry in the morning, this all resets, right?” She asked cheerily. “Yeah, but… but… “ Brittany couldn’t come up with an argument. “Now come on, we are still about the same size; let's see if they fit and we can get off to bed.” Tara led the dumbstruck girl up the stairs and to the closet. It was packed with white boxes, each labeled in the upper corner. The shelf at chest height had two opened boxes, one of the left read ‘Slims’. Thinking these must be the pull-ups she grabbed two, and handed one to Brittany. “Let’s both get pjs on, i will come to your room in about 10 minutes.” Tara said as she closed her door behind her. Throwing the pull-up on the bed, it suddenly hit Tara what she was about to do. It had been so long since she had worn something like that she almost felt as if it stared back at her. As if this meant more than just a means to an end. Shaking her head, she inspected the pull-up; it wasn’t any of the major brands she knew. In fact, it only had an “R” in the center of the waistband to indicate a brand. The sides were just a bit longer than the width of her hand and the padding looked fairly thin, but then it was just a pull-up. Changing into a tank top with thin shoulder straps, she placed her usual PJ pants next to the pull up on the bed. Stepping into the pull-up she began to doubt that she would fit, yet as she dragged it up to her waist, it never seemed to tighten. Standing there, 18 years old, and in a pull-up, it may as well have been fitted for her. It clung to her a bit but didn’t feel tight, and she felt the leg holes conform around her leg just below her butt, a perfect fit. She walked around and noted the extra padding and the overall ‘bulk’ she was not accustomed to as she moved. Satisfied, she pulled her PJs over the pull-up and went to see Brittany. Knocking on the door, the girl called out that she was ready. Tara was momentarily taken aback as Brittany had some small shorts and the diaper spilled out of the top and the sides. “All set?” she asked. “Yeah… I guess,” but Brittany kept glancing at Tara's PJs. Pulling the band of her pants down a bit, Tara showed the top of the pull and said, “Fitted just fine.” Tara began to giggle, and a smile reached Brittany's face as well. Soon they were laughing hard at the situation, and the tension was broken between them. “Night, Brit, see in the morning.” Tara chuckled out. “Night, Tara” was the reply as the younger girl got into bed. Back in her own room, Tara turned off the lights and got under the streets, exhausted. However, she almost immediately realized why Brittany’s shorts were so small. Being under covers, in pants, and in a pull-up was not the most comfortable thing. But tiredness eventually overtook Tara, and she drifted off.

Long time lurker. This is the first story I have written. Writing isn’t my strength, and It takes me forever to write, re-read, and rewrite. I have already written 20 chapters. I hope everyone finds this story different but interesting. This is a slow burn, but it does get into the diapers and regression. It will take a few chapters to really get into it. I can see this going for at least another 20 chapters on top of the twenty chapters already written. Chapter 1: The New Intern Avery let out a deep sigh of relief as he read the email he had just received from the biomedical technology department. He was finally being recognized for his hard work and dedication. His complex calculations and programming to demonstrate the interactions between a relatively new drug and a person's DNA had proven correct and valuable, leading to him being hired over a month ago - despite the doubt and ridicule from his colleagues. He leaned back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. On the one hand, he was elated that his efforts were beginning to be acknowledged, but on the other hand, he felt uncertain if this would lead to further respect or more challenges from those who never believed in him. A sense of pride mixed with apprehension began to stir within him, thoughts of the potential applications of this research tumbling through his mind. Ever since Avery Sage was a little boy, he has experienced problems with keeping his pants dry. Maybe it had something to do with the car accident that claimed the lives of his parents. Perhaps the foster homes he cycled through caused him stress, or maybe he would have always had this problem. All he knew for sure was that he needed to wear protection when out in public because when he got stressed, his bladder gave way. As a result, whenever he left the security of his home, he wore pull-ups, which made him feel like a little kid and dampened his confidence. His confidence wasn't helped because he was only five foot and one inch tall for a young man. These anxieties certainly didn’t help his mental health. He suffered from depression, anxiety, and insomnia. He regularly saw a psychiatrist and was on medication, but life could still be a struggle. He thought back to his first week of work. Avery graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and Biochemistry at the age of 18. A year later, he was offered an internship while working on his master's in Biochemistry and Genetics. Avery stepped through the doors of DNA Pharmacia, feeling equal parts nervousness and excitement. He had been preparing for this moment his whole life – the chance to finally earn some respect and prove all those who had doubted him wrong. Flashbacks filled his mind of all the running between foster care families he had endured; it had made his self-confidence falter, but nonetheless provided the motivation for him to finish high school years early and break free from the wings of his current foster family. Now was the time to show what he was made of. As Avery sat in the HR office, he wore his dress clothes for his first day, which was saying much– a little too large for his slim, small frame – but still managing to make him feel small and helpless against the world around him. People seemed to look through him everywhere he went as if he were invisible, yet he couldn't shake off the nagging sensation that all eyes were upon him. His shoulders sagged under the weight of defeat that shrouded his self-confidence. His wavery, untamed hair was combed back the best it could be. “Ok, Avery.” Julian, the HR representative, said. “You're done. You're officially an employee of DNA Pharmacia.” “I won’t let you down. I promise.” Avery smiled as he stood up and reached across the desk to shake Julian’s hand. Julian's expression was warm and encouraging as he shook Avery's hand. Julian was a tall, distinguished man in his late thirties, wearing a navy blue suit and a striped tie. His brown eyes twinkle with kindness, and he has a slight, friendly smirk while speaking to Avery. His handshake was firm but slightly frail, making Avery feel nervous that he had no idea if he could uphold such a promise. Doesn't everyone think that on their first day at work? Avery thought to himself. Julian just smiled back at him from his kind face, like he could read Avery's mind. “Great, I am hoping for good things from you. Shall I show you to your new desk and department?” Julian returned the smile. “Yes, please,” Avery followed Julian out of the room. They took two flights up in the elevator to a department called “Chemical DNA Sequencing Department.” and walked side-by-side down the long corridors of the main building. They passed glass panels on every wall and Avery marveled at how modern this building was. He watched sensors scanning vials of chemicals and equipment, feeding data into computers across the room. It was clear no money had been spared in making DNA a cutting-edge company. Every window they passed made him want to stop and ask what was happening; it all looked so exciting, and he couldn’t wait to start. All this made him forget that he secretly wore a pull-up underneath his clothes as protection was needed. It was down one of these corridors that Avery met an older man. The man had a strong jawline and sharp features, aged but wise. His eyes were a deep blue, crinkling at the corners when he smiled. His gray hair was neatly trimmed, and his beard was flecked with silver. He wore a crisp white shirt with black trousers and polished black shoes. He towered over Avery with an air of authority, yet his demeanor was warm and friendly. Avery recognized him from some of the interviews he had gone through to land this job. “Welcome! You must be our marvelous new intern. I am Bryan Wells, and you'll report directly to me! At your desk we have a laptop and a corporate iPhone with the works waiting there for you. From your resume and job interviews, my colleagues have noticed your peculiar knack for math and biochemistry, so we have an exciting task ahead for you! On your desk is a folder that outlines our challenge: debug a computational logic program that looks at DNA to determine designer drugs for fighting cancer. It's a riddle waiting to be solved - think you can do it? Report back any bugs as soon as possible, and we'd be grateful!” Bryan said cheerfully as he led Avery to his desk. “Yes, sir,” Avery replied. He would have agreed to do whatever Bryan needed. He was eager to impress. Bryan continued to talk to Avery. It was a one-sided conversation. Avery was too in awe of everything he was seeing to really contribute much. For him, this place was like a dream—top-level research with some of the smartest people in the world where his work could actually help people. Avery looked around the room. A long row of cubicles ran down one wall with a dozen or so scientists already hard at work on their projects. Avery's desk was tucked into the corner by an emergency exit. The light blue walls were sparse, containing only a few motivational posters and pictures of animals from Earth. Bryan led him to his chair and showed him how he could adjust it to fit him since the chair was probably to tall for him. Avery blushed a little but said nothing about it. Bryan reviewed with him how to log in to the server and the IT policies on using company-issued equipment. Bryan also went over where the relevant programs were located; he would review the folder with all the notes on the development of this program. “If you need anything, come to find me over there,” Bryan pointed to his private office. “The other scientists and engineers should be coming around to introduce themselves to you today.” “Ok, sounds good… And thank you for this opportunity,” Avery said as Bryan returned to his office. On that first day, he met a few scientists and a few engineers. They all seemed friendly enough, even though Avery didn’t have much to say. He wanted to just focus on the task at hand. He felt he had something to prove. Avery had been dealt a tough hand; growing up in the foster care system meant that he was constantly met with obstacles and negative comments. He was told time and again what he couldn’t do, but instead of accepting those limitations as his fate, he used them as motivation. Everyone’s doubts about him only strengthened his desire to prove them all wrong. The rest of the day was slow. Avery needed help concentrating on the program he had been asked to look at. Quite frankly, it was dull, and after seeing all the other scientists and engineers doing much more exciting things, Avery was keen to do something that felt more meaningful. This need to do something drew him to the thick handbook about all the research involved with this program and more. He was fascinated with it. Avery brought the program to his apartment that night. He abstained from indulging in his usual nightly video game escapades. Instead, he spent hours poring over the computational intricacies of DNA's involvement in cancerous growths, absorbed in deciphering the energy states of cancer cells. The realization that this program was an amalgamation of these complex calculations completely captivated him, particularly as he examined how the drug had to be manipulated to match the energy state of the cancer cells so that it would interact effectively with them. It was nothing less than astounding. As he delved deeper into the notes, he discovered a vexing inconsistency in one of the mathematical formulas that disrupted the programming and prevented it from reaching a conclusion on what drug was needed for treatment. Avery closed the notebook for the night, satisfied he knew what he could start looking at and he was glad to be out of the pull-up for the day. As he lay in bed, his mind kept running through what he had read. His insomnia medication meant he wasn’t awake for long, but even in sleep, it felt like his brain was searching through everything he had learned the previous day. The morning came too quickly as his alarm went off. “Ugh, I hate mornings,” Avery muttered as he hit the snooze button repeatedly. The alarm kept ringing, and every time it did, Avery reached out a hand and hit the snooze button again. It was an almost instinctive reaction to the annoying noise. His brain wasn’t clicking into gear. All he knew was that he wanted more sleep. At one point, as the alarm went, Avery pawed at the snooze button yet again but only ended up knocking his phone off the bedside table. “Oh shit,” He said as he looked up at the clock. It was 7:30 a.m. He was supposed to be at work at 8:00 a.m. His alarm had been going on and off since 6:00 a.m. this morning. Avery quickly removed his boxers and slipped on new pull-ups, light gray tan dockers, and a maroon golf shirt. He quickly wet down his hair and combed it back, knowing it would still look like a mess when his hair dried. Avery quickly left to grab the bus to work at 7:30 a.m. and hopefully be at work at 8:00 am. It was a rush, and Avery didn’t feel particularly ready, but as he walked out of the front door into the early morning air. He didn’t know how anyone could be a “morning person” when he always felt… tired. That morning, when Avery got to work, the first thing he did was get a large cup of coffee. Afterward, he sat down at his desk and began to take a look at the code. The code wasn’t easy to follow. It didn’t follow too much of a logical path in his mind. Two hours later, John Taylor, the most Sr, Engineer on the project and project lead, stopped by his desk. John was a 45-year-old engineer with a commanding presence and an ego to match. He stood at an imposing 6'2" and had a burly build that spoke of years of physical labor. Despite his advancing age, his muscles were still firm, and his torso remained taut, reflecting an unwavering commitment to physical fitness. Avery thought John's walk exuded confidence, each step resonating with a deliberate thud. His posture was impeccable, with his chest puffed out and his chin held high. He had a square jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore through any obstacle in their way. This made Avery very anxious to be around him. He was very much the opposite of Avery, who was dressed in a pair of tan dockers and a collared maroon shirt That he had quickly thrown on minutes before leaving the house. If someone were to judge Avery. They would say he dressed not to cause a stir and just wanted to blend in. The differences between the timid Avery and John, who exuded machismo and confidence, couldn’t have been starker. John wore an expensive suit that hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his chiseled physique, a testament to his attention to detail and his love of the finer things in life. “Impressive work on one of my projects, huh?” John scowled as he snatched the notebook off his desk. “I wouldn't waste your time with all the irrelevant data scribbled in here. It'll do nothing but distract you.” He flicked it to the other side of his desk like an afterthought. Avery noticed John's hazel eyes were framed by creases that spoke to years of meticulous research studies and calculations. “I tried to get a grip on it, but honestly, I stumbled over the complex calculations necessary for developing designer drugs. Despite that, I was still captivated by the work yesterday." Avery sighed, not convinced of his own abilities to do this kind of research but determine to make a difference still. “Well, just weed out the bugs and get the program working. My team and I will take care of the rest.” Johns said with a condescending smile. “If you do that, you will do good here, kid!” “It’s just….” Avery started. He wanted to prove his knowledge by suggesting a change to the handbook. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” John cut Avery off with ease. Avery felt a little put out by this overconfident man. He had been hired to be equal to all the other scientists, and yet John was acting like he was somebody hired to do data entry. He knew he could make the program run better and make the handbook better; he just needed John to listen to him. “I’m just thinking that if we…” Avery tried again. “If you have any suggestions, just write them down and slip them under my door,” John said as he started walking away without looking over his shoulder. The rest of the day went on without a hitch. A few people came by and tried to introduce themselves to him, but he kept the small talk to a minimum and just wanted to look over the program. Avery took a lot of notes that day. At the end of the day, he decided to retake the notebook home and leave the laptop at the office. He left the office at 4:30 p.m. to catch the bus at 5 p.m. If he missed the bus past 6 p.m., there wouldn't be another bus till morning. He was hungrier than normal because he skipped lunch all day to work on debugging the program. He stopped by a McDonald's and ordered a Big Mac. As he stood in line, he couldn't help but notice the Happy Meals on the counter, offering small Lego kits to children. It was a cruel marketing strategy to exploit parents and make them buy more Lego sets for their already spoiled kids. He knew this well, but it only reminded him of his own childhood, one filled with deprivation and lack of affection. He watched as the children played with their toys, ignoring the food in front of them - something he would have cherished as a child. But no, he was never allowed such frivolous things growing up; his foster parents made sure to remind him how unworthy he was of such luxuries. The memory brought back painful emotions that festered deep within him.

Hello I've been reading a bunch of little space stories and became inspired to write my own. It's the first story I've written like this so I hope everyone enjoys it. Chapter 1 Classification Day Sarah looked around the auditorium, there were just over two dozen students assembled. Every year from the ages of fifteen to eighteen students are tested for any developing classifications. Those who test positive are divided into three types, dominant, subordinate, and neutral, with several subtypes under dom and sub. Sarah figured she was going to be a caregiver, she always loved playing with her little cousins. Loved seeing them happy and smiling. Caregivers are usually taller but it's not unheard of them to be shorter than six feet. She stood just over five feet tall, with chestnut brown hair and sparkling green eyes that seemed larger than normal. Her face was soft and slightly puffy giving her an innocent look. It was a source of frustration for her, while it helped her when dealing with kids and littles, adults treated her younger than she actually was. The other students looked around nervously, a few of them were obviously friends as they huddled together whispering amongst themselves. She can't blame the others, they probably didn't know what they were going to be. Their attention was drawn to the front by an opening door. A woman walked from the open door to the podium, tapping on the mic before turning her attention to the students. “Welcome to Classification assignment,” the woman said. She was taller than the assembled students. Standing at least six feet tall, with long blond hair and a warm gentle face. “You all can call me Miss Clarissa, and today you’ll all be tested for a classification.” The students' voices raised as a few blurted out questions. Miss Clarissa raised her hand, silencing everyone. “I know you all have questions but we have a lot of students to get through. When your name is called please go through those doors.” she pointed to a set of double doors that stood open. A nurse in scrubs standing there with a list. “Sarah Anderson,” the nurse called. Sarah jumped a little and walked over to the woman, who had a gentle smile on her face. Sarah was led to a small area sectioned off with some partitions. “Please sit. Today we're going to be drawing some blood and then you’ll take the Bectel test.” “Is it painful?” Sarah asked. “Not at all sweetie, some electrodes will be placed on your head then you’ll watch a video while a computer monitors your neural activity. Now I'm going to draw some blood. Is that alright with you?” Sarah nodded her head, and watched the nurse take out a blood draw kit and several vials. She wrapped an elastic band around the girl's arm before feeling for a vein in the crook of her elbow. It took her a moment to find an acceptable vein but she nodded in satisfaction and cleaned the area with an alcohol wipe. Popping the safety cap off the butterfly needle she went to insert it. The girl watched the needle, her heart racing as it drew closer to her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands. “Relax sweetie, it’ll only take a moment,” the nurse said gently. Sarah nodded and unclenched her hands, whimpering as she felt the needle pierce her skin. “Shh shh, you’re fine. Just going to take a moment,” she spoke calmingly and soothingly. “Just one more. That's a good girl.” The nurse took four vials before removing the needle and taping a cotton ball to the puncture. Sarah felt a few tears fall from her eyes as she watched the nurse put labels on the vials and drop them into a bag. The nurse walked away and came back a few seconds later with a sucker. “Here you go darling,” she said, handing it out. “Ready for the next part? I promise it won't hurt.” “‘Kay,” Sarah said with a sniffle. The nurse led her through the room, other kids were having their blood drawn. One of them bawled their eyes out. She tried to focus on her breathing. Trying to calm her racing heart. She didn't notice when they left the room and entered a small room with a machine in it. An older man stood beside a small reclining chair. “I have Sarah Anderson here,” she said, handing over some paperwork. “Excellent, can you sit here for me,” the doctor asked gently. Sarah nodded and hopped up on the chair, her head feeling fuzzy from the needle, she always hated needles. The doctor explained what he was going to do, which she mostly ignored. Except for the last part which caught her attention. “... then once I get a baseline reading I'm going to show you a video.” “Video…?” “Yes, it's just some funny shapes and colors,” he said, walking over to the computer, then tapping a few buttons. “Ready sweetheart?” She nodded again, and watched him flip a switch with trepidation. Bracing for the unknown she was slightly disappointed when nothing happened. He simply smiled down at her, putting her at ease. While she waited she looked around the room. It was a classroom, all the desks were pushed to one wall and the room divider was stretched across it, dividing the classroom in half. “One of my colleagues is in the other half with another Bectel tester,” he said, following her gaze. The computer dinged and he clapped his hands together. “Alright sweetheart, I'm going to start the next part now, go ahead and look at the TV there.” “‘Kay…” she said watching the tv. It was still black for a moment before turning on. It was showing a pure white image. She started to turn her head when the doctor gently patted the top of it. “Keep watching.” She nodded and became entranced as some shapes and colors flashed on screen. They began to change, changing size and color. As she watched her head began to feel fuzzy again. She shook it, trying to clear it while keeping her eyes on the screen. But the fuzzy feeling continued. Spreading through her whole head. The funny shapes continued to change. “Pwetty…” “How are you feeling sweetheart?” “I few fuzzy,” she giggled. “Do you know where you are?” “Scoo!” she exclaimed. “That's right,” he said, smiling at her. “Pwetty sparkus,” she beamed. The video kept her rapt attention, running for a while before fading back to pure white. “Are you with me sweetheart?” “Huh?” Sarah blinked several times before shaking her head. “What…?” “We're done, you'll receive your results in a few days after the bloodwork finishes.” “Thank you,” she said. “No thank you for being such a good girl,” he said, smiling as her cheeks turned pink. “Nurse, I'm ready for the next one.” Sarah looked at the clock, somehow thirty minutes had passed already. Her attention was pulled away as the door opened up. The nurse led another student into the room and took Sarah back to the auditorium. “Sarah Anderson?” Miss Allison called. “Yes ma’am?” “You may go home, take this letter to your parents please,” she said, holding out a sealed envelope. “Yes ma’am,” she said, taking the offered envelope and walking to the door. She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted her mom asking for a pickup. Settling down to read something while she waited. She got a few chapters through one of her favorite little stories before her mom pulled up. “Sarah sweetie,” her mom called her, making her jump. She was so focused on what she was reading she didn't notice her mom standing in front of her. “How’d it go?” “It was alright, they took some of my blood and hooked me up to a weird computer.” “Ah, I remember the day I was classified. Everyone there said it was obvious what I was,” she said, a nostalgic tinge to her voice. “Really?” Sarah asked, hopping to her feet and following her mom to their car. They both climbed into the car, and buckled in. “Yea, it was very obvious I was a dom even before then.” “It was?” “Yea, I was already more developed than other girls my age, and I was very authoritative. The next year I met your father,” she said, then sighed. It was true, her mom was nearly six feet tall, standing at five foot eleven. She was a mistress, which she reluctantly told her daughter. Much to Sarah's embarrassment. Her mother had the same chestnut hair, but hers fell down to the middle of her back. Her warm honey colored eyes drew the viewer to her face, with its small dainty nose, full pouty lips, and sensual smile. “I miss dad,” Sarah said, sniffling slightly, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I do too.” A silence between them fell as her mother drove back to their house. “So, any idea what your classification is?” her mom asked, breaking the silence. “Caregiver probably.” “You do have a lot of fun playing with Alice and Sam. Are you sure you’re not a little?” “No mom, I don’t want to be a little.” “Why not sweetie?” “Cause I don't want to be reliant on someone my whole life. I don't want to be restricted from being an adult. I don't want my freedom taken away. Besides, I don't have any little tendencies.” “Still you might be surprised,” she said softly. “Mom no, I don't even want to think that way. I’ll be a caregiver. End of story,” she said, crossing her arms. “Alright sweetie,” her mom said, chuckling softly. “Did they say how long you have to wait?” “No, but they gave me a letter for you,” she said, pulling it out of her pocket. “Hold on to it until we get home sweetie.” “‘Kay mom.” Sarah pulled out her phone and texted her best friend Melissa. She’s also doing her classification test today, but later than Sarahs. With a big yawn her head bobbed and fell to her chest as she fell asleep. ***** “Sweetie, time to get up.” “Huh?” Sarah stirred, looking at her mom bleary eyed. “We’re home.” She looked around in confusion. “Still tired sweetie?” Sarah nods and holds up her arms. “Such a spoiled girl,” her mom said, giggling as she picked up her daughter, pocketing the envelope that had fallen from her grip. Carrying the half awake girl to the front door. She used her free hand to open the door. “We’re back,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Welcome back Mistress Michelle,” a woman called from the other room. “How’d it go?” “Well enough,” she replied, walking into the living room. Placing her daughter down on the couch she turned to face a woman who looked very different than her. Smaller with light blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She was much smaller at only “Long day?” “I think she was just stressed. You know how stressful classification day can be,” she sighed sitting down next to the woman, who pressed into her side and hummed contentedly. “I know, my mom was sad that I got designated as a pet,” she said nuzzling into Michelle. “Like she was super supportive but I could tell she was disappointed.” “And it's her loss,” she replied, planting a kiss on the smaller woman's lips. “You’re a wonderful woman, Ariel. And an amazing pet. “I’m so glad you adopted me,” she said. “Especially after Jason.” “Shh shh, don't even think about him,” Michelle said, swiping a tear from her pet's cheek. “Should we wake Sarah up?” “No, leave her to sleep for now, it's barely been twenty minutes. She gave me a letter,” she said, holding up the sealed envelope. Dear Miss Michelle, This letter is to inform you that preliminary results show that your daughter will be classified as a little. You should make sure she's aware and ready to receive the official announcement, as well as her official regression range. Should she drop before receiving the results we encourage you to allow it to progress naturally. Sarah will be required to attend special classes. Before her eighteenth birthday we advise finding her a caregiver. If she doesn’t have a registered caregiver sixty days after her eighteenth birthday a foster caregiver will be assigned to her. Once her age range is established a list of required items will be supplied with the classification folder. Best regards, Agent Alexi, C.L.P.S. “Shit…” Michelle swore. “What?” “Sarah’s going to be pissed…”

Now available on Amazon with a preview of Volume 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SP7Q3WD Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1071417185 _______________________________________ Chapter 1 “So why are you here?” She smiled when she said it; you could tell it was routine, the first question she always asked, and the smile was just good service. Staring across the desk, slumped in his chair, not sure where to put his hands or how to answer and preserve some pride, Eric didn’t respond right away. “I guess … I just don’t want to be here anymore,” Eric replied while keeping his eyes on the desk. Cheryl was used to this. Not many people who came to an adoption center wanted to talk about it. Except the exhibitionists; they wouldn’t stop talking about it, but it was obvious from his body language and mumbling tone that Eric wasn’t here for any of those reasons. “I understand, honey,” Cheryl said, softening her voice, “a lot of people feel that way. Can I ask you some questions about how you feel?” Eric knew what coming; he’d asked the same questions himself more times than he cared to remembered. He nodded. “Do you feel like hurting yourself?” “No.” Flat, matter of fact, and truthful. “Have you ever felt like hurting yourself?” “No.” “Do you feel like hurting someone else?” “No.” Have you ever felt like hurting someone else?” “No.” Cheryl ticked off boxes on her iPad while Eric waited patiently. “I’m so glad to hear that. Can I ask a few more?” She didn’t pause for him to answer. “Have you ever been diagnosed with any of the following? Bipolar disorder, Schizophrenia, Depression, Anxiety, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Personality Disorder, Dissociative disorder?” “Just depression and anxiety,” Eric said as he pushed back in his chair and exhaled. He’d been with depression for eight years and had this conversation with every new doctor and therapist he’d been to in that time. It was boring. Before Cheryl could get her next word out, Eric answered her next question. “I’m taking 150mg of Bupropion once a day and Xanax as needed. I’ve was seeing a therapist every other week until about 6 months ago. Her names is in the paperwork I brought with me. I’d say my depression and anxiety are both well controlled.” “Good,” she said, “That’s all good. Do you mind if I call your therapist to talk with her?” “No, that’s fine.” “Good. I need to be sure your decision isn’t being influenced by your depression or anxiety. So, back to what you were saying earlier, you ‘don’t want to be here anymore.’ Can you tell me more about that?” Cheryl leaned forward, trying to help Eric engage. “I’m work for the county…I’m a social worker…” Cheryl was practiced at this. Nod, say nothing, the client will fill the silence when they’re ready. “I … I …” Eric sucked in air and held back a sob. “I just can’t stay here anymore. I can’t … keep doing this.” Cheryl pushed her box of tissues toward Eric, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a cotton handkerchief. Dabbing at his eyes, he said started again. “Kenard Bering was my client. You probably didn’t hear about that. Good kid, not a trouble maker; wasn’t going to be any project to Harvard story, but he was on track, ya know. And he gets shot over a fucking cellphone.” Tears dripped, and Eric occasional wiped them away as he fell into a soliloquy: “Second kid in a year killed ……………. Dies at school from a fucking asthma attack. When’s the last time you heard of anyone dying from a fucking asthma attack ……………. And this asshole cop says to this 14 year old, ‘well, what are you doing to make your mother hit you? I couldn’t believe it, I … who the fuck says that or even thinks that way? How do you send a kid home who doesn’t want to go home? ……………. Burned ……………. Dropped out ……………. Caught with a weapon his mother game him. And that was after she beat him for losing a fight ……………. But so what if he graduates, right? ‘Cause it’s not like there’s anything but a mop or an apron waiting for him out there ……………. Left her kid to sit in his own shit while she went to get high and doesn’t even tell the cop the kid is home alone ……………. Jail ……………. 12 years old and pregnant and bipolar and both parents on drugs – what can I even do for that? ……………. He had priors ……………. I lost him to the pipeline ……………. Caught out on a corner ……………. Neighborhood says the cops did it ……………. ……………. ……………. ……………. …………….” Eric had stopped crying. He wasn’t sad. He was angry and disgusted and indignant. “For every one I save, whatever that means, there’s five I don’t. It’s like watching a never ending catastrophe and it rips my guts out every time.” Tired now, he slumped back in his chair, “Everyone said give it a year, you’ll get hardened to it. And I never did. Eight years, never gets better, never gets worse. It just is. And I can’t do it anymore. I can’t see it anymore.” Cheryl nodded her, “Uh huh…” waiting to see if Eric had more to say. When she thought he was done, she asked, “That sounds very hard for you. Can you tell me, though, why go to the other dimension? That’s pretty drastic; couldn’t you just change jobs?” “No,” Eric answered, “Because I know it’s all out there. I can’t live with myself if I quit. Or at least I can’t do it here.” That made sense to her. A sad kind of sense. Eric sounded like the kind of person there are too few of, but those qualities that made him so valuable to everyone else were the same qualities that made him so unhappy. Classic burnout. It wasn’t the first time Cheryl had seen this in a client, but it was obviously the worst, and she understood how Eric could believe there would never be an end to it if he stayed. He might even be right, she thought. “Eric, I’m going to be very frank with you. The dimension is more like our world than a lot of people want to admit. In some ways, it’s much, much worse, the way they treat people like us. It’s different in different countries, but in some of them we’re not seen as people. If you’ve heard anyone compare it to slavery and torture, they weren’t wrong. How does that make you feel?” Eric wasn’t surprised. He’d heard it all. It was right there in the web forums: kidnapping, mutilation, mind alteration. Even “Island of Dr. Moreau.” “I know,” Eric replied. “That’s why I came here and not some other place.” “Because you know we only work with people who live in Itali?” “Yeah.” “Well, that was smart of you. Some people get impatient and will go anywhere, or just go somewhere in the dimension and take their chances. You seem like someone who does his research, but I just want to tell you some things to separate fact from fiction: · Itali only permits adoptions through license agencies like ours, and they only adopt direct from our dimension to Itali. Not from any of the other countries there. · While humans can live there independently with the same rights at Bigs, if you adopt yourself out, you’ll have the same rights as a minor there. Anything that is permissible for a Big to do to their own children can be done to you. Anything that is impermissible for a Big to do to their own children cannot be done to you. · You can select the stage of life you wish to begin with as a Little: newborn, infant or toddler. Those are the only choices. That is binding on the Bigs who adopt from us. However, they retain the right to decide the details associated with your stage of life, which may vary from your expectations. Whether and at what pace you progress through life stages, and what point, if any, you stop progressing, is up to the Big. If you choose or consent to it, your Big may further regress you from your current stage at any time. · You’ll notice we call them Bigs. They call us Littles. ‘Amazon’ is a pejorative there. · There’s no amending the adoption agreement. It says what it says. We can make your wishes known to prospective parents, but they can break any promise they make. But we don’t adopt out to just anyone. We thoroughly inspect all of our clients. We wouldn’t work with them if we believed they were bad people. · Our adoption agreement prohibits the following: o Involuntary physical or mental alteration o Giving, selling, or trading Littles o Having custody of any Little not adopted through an agency licensed in Itali o Violations of any Itali laws; suspicion of violations to be investigated, with a preponderance of evidence sufficient to be considered a violation of this agreement o Withholding or unduly delaying adequate medical care o Abuse, neglect, or negligence as defined by The Agency; suspicion of abuse, neglect, or negligence to be investigated, with a preponderance of evidence sufficient to be considered a violation of this agreement o Traveling with the Little to, or sending the Little to, any country where any of the above are not expressly forbidden by law · We have offices in Itali that conduct surprise inspections and work with the authorities there. If they find any violation of the adoption agreement, under the treaty permitting inter-dimensional adoptions between us and Itali, the police are required by law take you into their custody and return you to us. · Unless your parents violate the adoption agreement, you must remain with them as their Little for 10 years. You can asked to be returned to us, but they are not obligated to comply. Conversely, they can return you to us whenever they choose. At the end of those 10 years, you can decide to stay their Little, return to us, or remain in Itali as a full and independent citizen. · Your property and assets with be placed in a trust our non-profit partner manages. If choose to return to us or to become an independent citizen after 10 years, your property will be returned to you less the what we spend eliminating any remaining debt you have here. If you choose to stay a Little after 10 years, your assets, property, and any interest are liquidated, the revenue will be used to pay off your debt, and anything left over will be donated to fund the non-profit. I just want to remind you that Itali is like here; there are good people and bad people. We only work with good, but if you’re looking for a Utopia, that’s not Itali. Does all that make sense? Do you have any questions?” “No. Well, I guess yeah – what happens next,” Eric asked. Eric was familiar with provisions like these. It was part of his job, dealing with foster parents and adoptions. This aligned closely to the laws of he was used to dealing with. He made a lot of those inspections over the years himself. “I know that was a lot to take in,” Cheryl answered, “It’s all in the paperwork I’m going to send you home with. If you have any questions, please reach out to me, and we will be testing you to ensure you read and understood the adoption agreement before we approve you for adoption. So next I’m going to process all the information on those forms we asked you to bring in, then I’m going to call you doctors and last therapist. Our compliance department is going to run the background check you’re allowing us to do, and that includes all of your financial history so we know what we’re taking on when if you decide to move forward. Once that’s done, I’ll be in touch. It usually takes about 10 days for the average person. I’m guessing because of your job you’re going to appear in a lot of court records, so it may take longer. And in the meantime you just go about your life like normal. Don’t make any drastic decisions; don’t go on a spending spree; don’t do anything dangerous or stupid. Anything like that has the potential to cause us to reject your application. If you have any questions, you can call me or one of our licensed therapists – I really encourage everyone to do that anyway. And if at any time you change your mind and want to just forget this, we can do that, too; everything here is confidential, and all your records will be destroyed. Do you have any more questions right now?” With her monologue done, Eric thought for a moment. It was a lot to take in, and even though he was far from the end of it, everything seemed very real now. “Uh, not a question really. Can I tell you one thing I’m looking for in a Big,” Eric asked. “Of course.” Eric felt sheepish. He’d thought about this a lot, and he was embarrassed by it, as if this entire thing weren’t embarrassing. “I don’t know what life stage I want to start at, but, uh, can you, um, put it in my file that I don’t think I ever want to grow up again?” “I can’t promise your Big would abide by that, but I will put it in your file, and we’ll try do our best to find a Big who wants the same as you. Anything else?” “No,” Eric said as he stood up and stuck his hand out. “Thank you for your help. I’ll do all the things you said.” “Thank you for coming in today,” Cheryl replied as she shook Eric’s hand. As Eric reached the door, Cheryl felt compelled to add, “Eric, we’re going to make sure everything turns out right for you. I’ll make sure. And while all this is going on, please … just try to take care of yourself … for me.” Eric nodded and left. Cheryl liked Eric. She had a soft spot for people who had soft spots, and she knew people like Eric were worth protecting. We need more people like him in this world, Cheryl thought, but he needs something else. She understood why Eric wanted to be with a Big who didn’t want him to grow up: so he’d never have to see the kinds of things he saw everyday here. Returning to her desk, Erica started taking in on her notes for the file: Eric is 29 years old and suffers from depression and anxiety which are well controlled with medication … overwhelmed by work and the suffering he sees in the world … is educated and intelligent … is a sensitive and kind person … appears physically healthy … exhibits signs of PTSD, though he has not been diagnosed, and may benefit from therapy post-adoption … will likely need substantial emotional support ... did not admit to any fetish as a motivator .. may have trouble adapting ... desires to NOT progress from initial stage of life … will likely match best with a female head of household looking to dote on her Little and who has a large support network …

Hi guys! Here are the first two chapters for Araceli's Descent Into Babyhood. You can find chapter three and four already added to my website: The Padded Playground. There are new stories like Finding Mommy, Bully - A Mother's Forced Regression, and more. Be sure to check them out. Araceli's Descent Into Babyhood Lena looked around the room. It was a nursery, but everything was bigger than normal. A play pen in the middle filled with blankets and toys that could fit multiple adults in it. A crib on one corner, big enough for two adult women, and that crib wasn’t empty. Inside, a woman with olive skin and dark brown messy hair slept peacefully. She was naked but for a diaper, which was clearly wet. Araceli was sucking her thumb, probably dreaming about her past life. A life she had spent in the streets of Lima, begging for money to support herself and her children. Now, here she was, in America. In Lena’s home, sleeping like a baby, for a lack of a better word. Lena turned to see the camera pointed at the crib, recording Araceli’s every movement. And she couldn’t help but thinking about how she had made everything possible. How she turned the beggar mother into an ABDL superstar around the world. If the baby wasn’t sleeping she would’ve laughed diabolically. It was, after all, something only a villain would’ve done. Turn a mother from the streets into her perfect baby angel, submissive to her every command. Lena could’t deny it, she was proud of it. Chapter 1 Lena’s New Idea Lena looked at her phone and the endless notifications from her last post. It was a simple photo shoot of her wetting her diaper and then getting changed by a random fan she chose. It had gotten a lot of interactions; everyone wanted to have been that fan, and that kept her followers wanting more. But, if she was honest with herself, it wasn't the same anymore. She sighed, looking down the car window. The city was unlike anything she had seen before. A beautiful and endless green pier at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean and she wasn't even in the nice part of the city yet. Perhaps, in the future, she thought, she could leave it behind. The idea of having to wear diapers and wetting or messing them up to make money for the rest of her life didn't seem as enticing as when she started selling content. She was running out of ideas to keep her followers satisfied. True, it gave her enough money to live a comfortable life. Not something the average ABDL content creator could say, but then again, not everyone had her hourglass figure and piercing blue eyes combined with long blonde hair, making her look like a baby Viking goddess when she was on character. At almost twenty-five, Lena couldn't have asked for better genetics. Her thoughts came back to the present when the car stopped, and she went down. The warmth of Lima radiated against her porcelain skin as she strolled past the elegant facade of the five-star hotel. In the heart of Lima's touristic district, restaurants and malls and beautiful parks were everywhere. And yet, on the streets, beggars. The taxi driver had told her they were Venezuelans, escaping from the horrors of socialism in their own country. Though, he pointed out, it wasn't that much better in Peru. Lena didn't know what to say, so she just nodded and smiled. Politics weren’t her thing. If anything, she just wanted to pay as little taxes as possible and not be bothered by anyone. But, confronted with it now, she felt sad for them. Something she could’ve just shake off once she was inside the hotel and that would’ve been it. And then it happened. She saw her first. Amidst the crowd, a woman in her late thirties with a beautiful tan, olive skin, and the deepest black eyes. She was tall for a Latina but with the natural curves of her people. Big breasts and a soft face, almost too soft for someone living in the streets. At that moment, Lena got an idea that would change her life and the life of that beautiful older woman who was asking for money from any and every tourist. Could it actually be possible that the beggar was the answer to her question? "Welcome to the Lima J.W. Marriott," said the guard, bringing her back into reality and helping Lena with her luggage. Lena didn’t answer. She was deep in thought. She didn’t want to be rude. No. But there was an idea forming in her mind. She felt the diaper around her crotch getting warmer. And the feeling of her urine against her skin confirmed what she wanted. She wanted out, and this was her opportunity. "Miss?" the guard asked again. "Could you get them inside," asked Lena, "I'll be back in a second. Thanks.” She rushed off, almost running, though the thick diaper wouldn’t allow too much movement. She rushed towards the woman she had seen, and stopped only when she was close enough to see her better. Her eyes had not lie. If she were clean and better fed, the mature woman could’ve been a former model. One of those Venezuelan ones that used to win every Miss Universe competition. "Excuse me," Lena began tentatively, not wanting to offend or scare the struggling mature woman, “Excuse me.” "Disculpe?" asked the woman, “Tiene dinero?” Lena smiled, giving her a ten-dollar bill, "English?" The woman nodded, "Little." "What's your name?” "Araceli." Looking at her closely, Lena could spot the dirt and stains in Araceli's clothing. She had probably haven't showered in a while. Her hair was messy and chaotic. She had lines around her eyes and dry lips. And yet, there was potential there that remained undiscovered. Exotic and sexy and, because of the woman’s demeanor, cuteness. With the right makeover and a proper cleanup - yeah, that would work. It would be perfect, and Lena’s own excitement made her already wet diaper soaked with her own juices. She could imagine herself diapering the woman, treating her like a baby for all her followers to see. She would be the mommy, not the baby anymore. Of course, she wouldn’t give up diapers. They were more for comfort and convenience than anything else. But yes, Araceli was the ideal candidate for her little experiment. She smiled, devilishly and charmingly, "Would you like more money?" Araceli nodded vigorously, "Yes, please.” "What would you do for it?" "How much?" "A thousand. Cash, I guess you don't really have a bank account, do you?” Araceli shook her head, "What do I do?" "Do you know what a diaper is?” Araceli nodded, though her eyes were perplexed at the question, "Babies, changes.” "Yeah," said Lena, "I'll give you a thousand dollars if you let me put one on you and then let me take photos and record it. It will be classy. Just one night. In my hotel room. No one else will be there. Just you and me.” Araceli looked lost for a second before she answered, "Porn?" Lena nodded, "A type of. But nothing too sexual unless you want to. Look, it's a lot of money, not just for someone living on the streets, but in general. Think about it. If you choose to do it, come to my hotel room. I'm in the penthouse. Ask for Miss Stone." Without letting the mature woman answer, she turned around, smiling, and walked back to her hotel. She stopped by the front door, right beside the security guard who had greeted her a few minutes before. He still had her luggage and a welcoming smile. "If the woman I was talking with comes asking for me. Show her to my room," she said, hanging him a fifty-dollar bill, "There's more if you're discreet about it." The guard’s smile grew bigger, “Yes, ma’am. Welcome to Lima City." Lena entered the hotel, "I'm going to like it here." Chapter 2 Mother & Daughter Araceli looked at her daughter. She was eagerly eating the street burger she had bought for them. Ten dollars wasn't a big thing for them gringos, but for her, it was life-changing. Her daughter had not known the taste of nice food in a while, and knowing she could change that for good made Araceli consider the proposal of the crazy white lady who gave her the money. Porn? Porn? But with diapers. It just didn't sound good. She said not really porn. Nothing too sexual. Was there not going to be coitus? Was it just the diaper? Those crazy people from first-world countries were really into some weird stuff, weren't they? "Are you okay, mom?" asked Maria. She looked like a clone of her mother but in the body of a nineteen-year-old. Even malnutrition hadn't taken away her beauty, and it was her beauty they were counting on when they escaped Venezuela. But when they arrived, they realized no matter how pretty they were, there were hundreds upon hundreds of them. Most Peruvians hated them, too. There were no opportunities. Chileans hated them. Argentinians hated them. Brazilians hated them. They were banned from El Salvador. It seemed they could only go to America, but getting there was the problem. Easy to go in, difficult to get there. "Mom?" asked Maria again. Araceli looked at her daughter and smiled, "Eat, honey.” Maria did as told. Mothers, especially those from Latin countries, would do anything for their kids. And if she wanted to call herself a real mother, she needed to step up. She couldn't let her daughter starve. And they needed a home. Somewhere to live. A thousand dollars was enough to rent an apartment for three months or more if they were smart about it. Maybe buy some cheap clothes. Eat properly for a while. But the shame of what she needed to do prevented her from committing to that decision. "Mom. That's it. Tell me what's going on," said Maria once more. Her daughter had always been more bossy and dominant than herself. It had gotten her into trouble, especially in a culture that didn't allow that on women. But Maria was also smart, maybe not street smart, but smart nonetheless. Emotionally smart would be the right word. "It's nothing, honey," she said, "I just got...a proposal." "A proposal?” Araceli nodded, "Yeah, a money-type proposal." "A job?” Araceli hesitated to share more with her daughter, but they were close. Best friends. There were no secrets between them, and that alone was the only reason they had survived so far. Together, they were stronger. They complemented each other. And her hesitation faded as she explained what had happened earlier that day. "Diapers? Porn? You aren't thinking about doing this. Are you?" asked Maria. Araceli nodded, "It's a lot of money. We could find a place to live." She looked around. They were sitting in a dark park, hoping no one would force them out until the morning. "But it's no different than having sex for money! No. You won't do it. I forbid it.” "I'm the mother.” "Yes, but I'm the one that takes care of us.” "Enough," said Araceli, putting her foot down for the very first time in her life, "I'm the adult here. You're only nineteen. I decide what we do, and if I decide I'm taking the offer, I will. No discussion." There was a moment of awkward silence between the two. Araceli tried to look away, giving her daughter some sense of space. Though, they dared not to get too far away from each other at night. "If I had a room, I'd rush there and stomp the door," said Maria, and Araceli chuckled, and she did, too, "When do you have to do it?" …………………………………………… In her hotel, Lena had everything ready. She had bought diapers she was sure would fit Araceli. They had different bodies and hers wouldn’t actually cut it for what she intended. She also got more baby powder and baby wipes for diaper changes. Her camera was already set up. And she had the cash ready. She even ordered food and alcohol, perhaps, it would help break the ice. And now she waited. It would be her first time as someone's caregiver. The idea itself was exhilarating, enough to create a sense of warmness between her crotch. Knowing Araceli was vanilla and, like most people in the region, probably conservative, made the entire idea even more exciting. Controlling someone twice her age was something she had never expected, but it was a welcomed change. While she waited, she thought, why not? Her finger found their way to her wet pussy, caressing it slowly and carefully at first, thinking about the mature woman who she would soon put back in diapers. Lena was never meant to be the baby. She had always craved to be in charge. And now she was close to it and as the thought came to her mind, she reached the best climax she had had in ages. Her heart was beating fast and she was sweating slightly, and she was naked on top of the bed. It was going to be an interesting experience, that was for sure. She smiled and kept waiting. …………………………………………… Araceli didn't know what to say or how to act. Everyone in the hotel looked at her as if she had some sort of disease. She kept telling herself it was for her daughter, but she had to admit, that it was mostly for her. She wanted a better life. A different life. Her daughter didn’t mind. She didn’t lost everything when communism destroyed her country. She was born in poverty already, and it’s easier to live knowing you haven’t lost anything than it is to accept what you had is gone. She sighed as she found her way around the hotel hallways and stairs. She dared not take the elevator. Her smell alone would make it unpleasant for everyone, so she took the long route to the penthouse floor where the security guard told her Lena would be waiting. The outside of the hotel was luxurious and elegant, but inside, it was like something out of her imagination. If this was how people lived in countries with decent economies, was it better somewhere else? America, perhaps, was as good as her acquaintances had told her. She walked down the aisles and through, looking for the room where she would earn money enough to change her daughter’s life for good. If only it didn’t mean dishonoring herself. If only she didn’t have to submit to others’ demands to survive. She cursed her luck as the thought of being diapered again by someone much younger than her rushed through her brain. Would it be that bad? She had no time to answer herself as she reached Lena’s room. Hesitant, she knocked, and within a few seconds, the door opened. She took a deep breath and stepped in. The room was dimly lit, but she could make out the figure of a woman, younger than herself, sitting on a couch. She was sipping on a glass of wine, and her eyes seemed to sparkle in the low light. The fragrance of fresh flowers filled the air, and soft, sensuous music played in the background. It was a surreal environment, so far removed from her reality that it left her feeling like she had walked into a dream. "Hola, Araceli," Lena greeted her warmly, setting her glass down on the table, "That's about as much Spanish you'll hear from me, though." There was a long pause as Araceli closed the door behind her. “Are you ready for this?” Asked Lena. Araceli nodded, hesitant about her answer, but knowing there was no other way for her.

Chapter 1 Tish held the pen in her hand. She was shaking and wasn't sure she would be able to sign the document in front of her. It was partly from fear and partly from anger. She still couldn't believe this was happening to her. She felt so alone but knew that there were millions of others facing the same thing. She looked down at the legal document in front of her. She had read through it twice but it didn't matter. At the bottom of the last page were spots for two signatures. On the left was a signature line labeled "Minor Person", waiting for her to sign. How could she be a minor person when she was 20 years old? Her birthday was in 4 days. This was rediculous. On the right was a second signature line labled "Sponsor/Adult" and that line had already been signed by her friend and roommate Jenn who was sitting next to her. Tish looked up at Jenn who was waiting for her to sign. Jenn gave her a reassuring look and nodded towardsd the paper, encouraging her to sign. All Tish could think about was how unfair this was. She and Jenn were practically the same age, yet they were in entirely different situations. Jenn was only a few months older than her and she was the 'adult'? If only she had been born a week early she could have escaped what was about to happen to her. She put that out of her mind and brought the pen down and awkardly signed the paper in front of her. "Thank you Tish. I know this is awkard for everyone but just know what you are doing here could save the human race.", The woman across the table took the signed documents, quickly reviewed them for accuracy and put them in a folder. "Uh huh, that's what they say.", Tish retorted. "Tish! Don't be one of those people. You know the science is clear on this. The whole world is doing their part in this. You should be taking this more seriously.", Jenn pleaded. "Want to switch places then?", Tish snapped back. "Jenn is right. You both need to take this seriously. The documents you signed today show your committment. Jenn, since you are acting as her sponsor and guardian with regard to the new laws, you will be held just as accountable as her to follow the rules and instructions." "We understand.", Jenn confidently replied while Tish folded her arms and looked down. "Tish, I we realize this is hard for you to accept. You just missed the age cutoff by a few days but there a lot of people going through the same thing. Frankly, I haven't seen anyone as reluctant or resitant to this as you. Jenn has spent a lot of her time going through the training necessary to be your sponsor. She has sacraficed a lot of her time and is taking on a big responsibility. You are lucky to have her. There are many people who aren't so lucky! People who don't have anyone close they can depend on. Those people have to depend on complete strangers, and it won't be easy for them, but we are all in this together. I guess what I'm saying is you are a lucky, and you should realize that. So I don't want to hear of any trouble from you two, ok?" Tish looked up at Emma and Jenn. She didn't want to seem ungrateful for what Jenn was doing for her but it didn't change the fact that all this seemed uncessary and unfair. She was so sick of hearing that we were "all in this together", everyone needs to "do their part" and all the other buzzwords and phrases the media and government pushed on everyone. She was sick of it. Anyone that spoke out against these new measures was deemed to be some sort of irrational selfish jerk. "No Emma, you won't. This is just such a strange thing going on for everyone. Everyone will come around I'm sure. And maybe it won't take long to find a cure or whatever. I'm pretty hopeful about that, but until then I'm sure we'll be fine once we get going and into the routine.", Jenn stated while massaging Tish's shoulder, trying to comfort her. "That is everyone's hope Jenn. Now if you don't mind, I've got about 50 more of these appointments today for the other stragglers. Please find your starter kit on the way out. It will be labeled with both of your names. Everything you need for your first week is included. Remember your training and everything will go smoothly. Remember, we have an appointment in 1 week from today, but remember that random inspections may happen at any time. Carry your ID with you at all times. Jenn, because you look young, you may be asked for proof of age. Tish of course won't have that problem. Good luck and I'll see you in a week." Tish and Jenn walked out of the office into a lobby full of people sitting and fidgeting awkwardly. All eyes were on them as if trying to seek out any information about how their meeting went. The room was full of different people of all ages. Guys, girls, children and their parents, friends, couples holding hands, and others. Tish wondered about all of the weird situations the new law would cause for people and their relationships. She wondered about her own relationship. Her boyfriend was 22, so he was immune to the restrictions. At first it made sense that he would be her sponsor but that option was quickly removed from the table. As the laws were being debated back and forth over the many months, some lawmakers got their way that there could be no opposite sex minor/sponsor relationships unless both parties were married or the person was a legal guardian. Of course, the government failed to take into account all sorts of other lifestyles, situations, exceptions etc. It was a typical bearucratic mess that you would expect. There were protests and speeches and marches, but in the end things move so fast that is how it ended up. No solution was perfect and no side of the argument got everything they wanted. The other fact was her boyfriend lived 45 minutes away which would also be inconvenient for other reasons. Luckily he was very supportive and said he would stand by her over the next year. Jenn found the box with their names on it and they loaded it into the car. The drive home was awkard. Jenn tried to make small talk and assure Tish everything was going to be ok. "You say that, but I'm the one having to go through this. I'm just really worried about John. He says he will stick by me." "He will. I've always like John, Tish." "I know but a whole year without sex? I just don't understand why we can't, you know, do other things. Why are they being so strict with all of it?" "Tish! We've talked about this before. You know why. The future of the human race is a stake. Even if you don't believe it or whatever, it's true!" "Yeah yeah, I know.. the science. But maybe we can sneak around somehow." "Tish, you know the rules. If you get caught.. Well, and...." "What?" "Umm, it's just that messing around is going to be pretty impossible for you." "Huh? Just what does that mean? Tell me!" "I'll explain everything in a bit ok? I'm really not supposed to tell you anything until we open the box later together." "Geez Jenn, like who is going to care. But whatever, you are always the rule follower." They arrived at their apartment in about 15 minutes and took the large box inside and set it on the floor. It was Sunday afternoon and they both had to work tomorrow, but they had a little time to relax before having to get ready for tomorrow or discuss the kit. They worked around the house for awhile, made dinner and opened a bottle of wine. When they were cleaning up dinner Jenn finally broke the ice. "Tish, it's time to go through the kit. There is a little worksheet we will have to do and things to discuss. We both have busy days tomorrow so we just have to do it and get it over with." Tish had noticed a slight change in Jenn's tone. Almost an suble aire of superiority or authority. She wondered if this was how it was going to feel for the next year. "I know.. I know I'm putting it off. I still can't believe this you know?" "I know.", Jenn took Tish's hand and squeezed it as she lead her over to the box. She knew a lot more about what was going to happen than Tish did. She had been through several training classes to become Tish's sponsor. For some reason they didn't want the minors, as they were called, knowing all the details. She knew right now all over the country people were about to do what they were doing. Open these boxes and have their lives changed. She knew people were probably live streaming it, blogging and posting things on the various social media sites. She tried to ignore the noise of all that and focus on what she could best do to support her friend through this. Jenn figured that after a couple of weeks the newness of all of it would wear off and people would just have to accept that this was the way of life for awhile and the world would adapt. Jenn handed Tish a pair of scissors. Tish slid the blade across the heavy tapes and the heavy cardboard box poped open. The scent of the air from inside the box hit her nose. It was unfamiliar to her but not unpleasant. She took a deep breath and peeled back the edges and looked in.