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This is a story that I'm working on using ChatGPT...I've had a lot of fun asking chatGPT for new takes on some of my existing favorite stories. This one is inspired by Babydoc's Room and Board Chapter 1 Jacob stood at the doorstep of an old, well-kept house nestled between two towering oak trees. The autumn leaves crunched under his feet as he shifted nervously, glancing down at the address again. He had been searching for an apartment in this bustling college town for weeks, but everything was either too expensive or already taken. This place, owned by Mrs. Williams, was his last hope. The door creaked open, revealing a tall, elderly woman with sharp eyes and silver-gray hair pulled into a neat bun. Her clothes were pressed to perfection, and there was an air of precision in the way she held herself, as if every move she made was calculated and deliberate. "You're Jacob, I presume," she said without much warmth, motioning him inside. "Yes, ma’am," Jacob replied, stepping in, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished hardwood floor. The inside of the house was as meticulous as Mrs. Williams herself. The furniture, though dated, was pristine, and everything seemed to have its place. Jacob noticed the rich smell of wood polish in the air and felt the weight of her eyes on him as they walked through the narrow hallway. Mrs. Williams led him into a cozy living room and gestured for him to sit on an antique armchair. She remained standing, arms crossed, studying him closely. "I've had a lot of renters over the years, Jacob," she began, "and let me tell you, I’m very particular about who stays under my roof. My furniture is precious to me, and so is my peace of mind. I expect you to respect both." Jacob nodded eagerly, hoping to make a good impression. "Of course, ma’am. I’ll be careful." She gave a slow, deliberate nod but didn’t sit down. "The room is furnished, and it comes with a brand-new mattress. I expect it to stay that way—clean and without damage. You’re young, so I have to ask…" She paused, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Have you ever wet the bed?" Jacob froze, the question catching him completely off guard. His face flushed with embarrassment, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat. He could feel his palms starting to sweat. "I, um, I haven’t in a long time," he admitted, swallowing hard. "But I did when I was younger." Mrs. Williams raised an eyebrow, clearly not pleased with his answer. She walked slowly around the room, her fingers brushing against the back of the sofa as she pondered her next words. “I don’t want any accidents here,” she said finally, her tone matter-of-fact. “I take great pride in my home, and I can’t afford to be replacing mattresses because of some... oversight. So, if I’m going to rent this room to you, Jacob, there will have to be some precautions.” Jacob’s heart raced as he watched her turn toward him, her eyes cold and businesslike. "What do you mean by that?" he asked cautiously. “I’ll rent you the room,” she continued, “but only if you agree to wear thick diapers to bed each night.” Jacob’s mouth fell open, but words seemed to fail him. He could barely process what she had just said. Diapers? At his age? He felt a lump form in his throat. "I—" he stammered, unsure of how to respond. His mind raced between disbelief and a desperate need for a place to stay. Mrs. Williams tilted her head, waiting for him to respond. "It's up to you, Jacob. You can leave, or you can agree to my terms. I'm perfectly happy leaving the room empty this school year. But under no circumstances will I have a bedwetter rent my room without taking the necessary precautions." Jacob’s face burned, but he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he muttered. “I’ll do it.” Mrs. Williams smiled, but it wasn’t a warm smile. It was the smile of someone who had gotten exactly what they wanted. Chapter 2: The sun had long since set, casting long shadows across the room as Jacob sat on the edge of his new bed. The room itself was quaint, with floral wallpaper that seemed like it hadn’t been updated since the 1970s, and an old wooden dresser that creaked when you opened the drawers. The bed, at least, was comfortable, though Jacob couldn’t stop staring at the neatly folded diaper Mrs. Williams had left on the dresser for him after dinner. He had tried to forget about their strange arrangement throughout the day, distracting himself by unpacking his few belongings and setting up for classes. But now, as he stared at the diaper she’d insisted on, the reality of the situation hit him. This wasn’t a joke. He had agreed to this, and now he had to follow through. A light knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Jacob," Mrs. Williams' voice came through the door, steady and calm. "It's getting late. I trust you've put on your diaper for the night?" Jacob swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah, I was just about to.” Mrs. Williams opened the door without waiting for an invitation, stepping inside with that same composed expression. She glanced at the diaper still untouched on the dresser, then back at Jacob with a look that clearly said she didn’t appreciate being lied to. “Let’s not waste time, Jacob,” she said briskly, picking up the diaper and handing it to him. “You agreed to this, remember?” Jacob nodded quickly, avoiding her gaze as he took the diaper from her hands. He unfolded it awkwardly, feeling the thick padding and crinkly plastic between his fingers. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned his back to her, hoping for a little privacy. Mrs. Williams didn’t leave. With a deep breath, Jacob laid the diaper on the bed and began trying to position it, fumbling with the tapes as he clumsily tried to fasten it around himself. The padding felt strange and bulky between his legs, and he couldn’t seem to get the tapes right. The whole process was more difficult than he’d imagined. Mrs. Williams watched him for a moment, her lips pursed in disapproval. Finally, she sighed. "Jacob, stop," she said, walking over to him. "You're doing it all wrong. This is exactly why I was concerned." She stepped closer, taking a close look at the diaper as if he were a child incapable of dressing himself. Jacob lay there, naked from the waist down with only a diaper to cover up his privates, humiliated, as she inspected his attempt, shaking her head at the mess he had made. "This won't do at all," she muttered. "If the diaper isn’t secure, it’ll come right off, and then we’ll have the very problem I’m trying to avoid." Jacob felt his face flush a deep shade of red as she motioned for him to lie back down on the bed. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but her stern expression left no room for argument. "Lie down, Jacob," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for negotiation. "I'll take care of it myself." He obeyed, lying back on the mattress as she unfolded the diaper with practiced ease. The room was painfully silent except for the rustle of plastic as Mrs. Williams went about her task with the precision of someone who had done this many times before. She lifted his legs without hesitation, sliding the diaper underneath him with a practiced hand. Jacob’s mortification deepened as she sprinkled baby powder on his bottom and then all over the front of his diaper area. She proceeded to pull the diaper snugly around his waist, securing it tightly with the tapes on both sides. Her hands worked quickly, as if she had been expecting this outcome all along. "There," she said, stepping back to admire her work. "That’s how it should be done. It should stay in place throughout the night now." Jacob didn’t dare look her in the eyes as he sat up, feeling the bulkiness of the diaper around him. He felt small, childish, and utterly humiliated, but Mrs. Williams seemed satisfied. She gave him a curt nod. "Remember, Jacob," she said, her voice softer now but still firm, "this is for your benefit as much as mine. I expect this will be a nightly routine, and I don’t want any fuss about it." With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Jacob sat there, feeling the weight of the situation settle over him. It was only his first night, but it already felt like he was in over his head.

"Ah, there you are. Welcome, my dear guest—we’ve been expecting you." "You must be exhausted. The outside world can be so demanding, so terribly unkind to those who don’t quite fit into its rigid expectations. But here? Here, we do things differently. Here, you are free to let go, to be who you were always meant to be." "Oh, I see that flicker of resistance in your eyes. That stubborn little spark. No matter. Some learn quickly, others take a bit more… encouragement. But rest assured, my dear guest, no one leaves Noctis without learning their lesson. The Headmaster sees to that." "For now, there’s no need to fret. Everything has been arranged, just for you. A new life. A simpler way. A second chance to be cared for as you deserve." "Now then—shall we begin?" Mr. Reginald Cromwell Noctis-Two moons The Daily Grind and the Night Descent Chapter 1: Delivery Routes Rain traced cold fingers down his spine, needling through worn seams. His boots slapped against the oil-slicked concrete of the loading zone, water pooling around crates and delivery skiffs. Corporate workers drifted past under awnings, their eyes sliding over him—like he wasn’t there. Like runners didn’t count. The Flea waited where he’d left her—last in line, always—her patchwork frame hunkered down like a beaten dog. The bike had started life as a Spektra Glide 300, sleek once, but that was years and a hundred bad repairs ago. Now, it was armor-plated with scavenged aluminum, welding scars crisscrossing the steel alloy beneath. Neon blue and green paint clung to the edges, peeling like sunburnt skin. Calum wiped rain from his eyes. “Alright, girl,” he muttered, voice low. “Don’t mess with me today.” Fingers stiff with cold, he pressed the ignition. The Flea sputtered—a sick, choking cough. Calum’s heart hitched. He jabbed the button again, harder. Another wheeze. Dash lights flickered—faint as dying fireflies—then blinked out. “Seriously?” His breath misted the air. He tried again. And again. Nothing. Rain drummed on the visor of his helmet. His pulse quickened. He pressed his palms to the handlebars, forcing down the knot in his chest. This was his fifth run of the day. Every stop had been harder—grip slipping on wet controls, shoulders aching under cargo weight. He was running on fumes. And now this. If the Flea was done, so was he. “Don’t do this to me,” he whispered. His thumb hovered, eyes closed for a second—like it might help. Click. Cough. A sputter. Silence. He hit it again. Harder. Silence. Again. The dash stayed dark. The Flea sat still beneath him, rain tracing along the ridges of rust like veins. Daan’s voice came unbidden into Cal’s mind. “You let this thing fall apart again, mate? What, hoping it’ll fix itself? Gotta love that strategy.” Cal could almost hear the grin behind the words. He remembered the first time they met, years back, in the alley behind the smog market, where the vents spat steam thick enough to choke you. He almost got away, weaving through crates and broken scaffolding like a rat born in the metal. But Cal was faster—or angrier. Maybe both. Daan tripped on a loose pipe, and Cal was on him before he could crawl away. Slammed him against the wall, knee pressing into his ribs. He squirmed like a cornered dog, but he was caught. “That my bike you tried to steal, huh?” Cal’s voice had come out sharp, half from rage, half from panting. “You wanna die today, kid?” No answer. Just those blue eyes glaring up at him, trying hard not to water. Small, thinner than Cal back then, sandy hair plastered to his face from the rain. But there was fight in him—Cal saw it. That made him even angrier. He shoved Daan’s face against the wall. “Name.” Grunt. Teeth clenched. “Daan.” Cal pulled the scrap of rubber tubing from his belt, wrapped it around his knuckles for show. “You know what happens to bike thieves here? They get the paddling of their life, then crawl home to mama—if they got one. You got one?” Silence. Breathing—fast, scared, defiant. Cal shoved his face into the bricks again. “I asked you a question, Daan.” “Na… no.” Yanked him forward, flipped him over like he was really going through with it. Daan yelped, struggled, but Cal pinned him easy. Brought the strap down—not too hard, just enough to sting. Three, maybe four times. Each swat made him flinch, but Cal knew he wasn’t breaking him. Just teaching him. Then he heard it—Daan’s stomach, loud like a damn engine sputtering out. The boy froze when he realized Cal noticed. Face flushed, like that growl had betrayed him worse than anything else. Cal let go. Daan hit the ground on his knees, staring at the wet pavement. “When’s the last time you ate?” No answer. That was answer enough. The strap slid back into Cal’s belt. “Get up.” Daan hesitated but got to his feet. Cal started walking. After a few steps, he heard the boy’s footsteps trailing behind. They went to the fry stall near Egelstraat—greasiest forge fries you could find, slathered in lava ketchup. Cal paid. Daan didn’t say thanks, just scarfed the food down like he thought it might be snatched away. They sat under the busted neon sign, rain still falling but softer now. Cal watched him eat, and he knew. Daan was his now. His little street brother. Whether he liked it or not. When the fries were gone, Cal caught the twitch in Daan’s eyes—that little calculation. He was about to bolt. Cal knew better. Before Daan could move, Cal grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back toward the fry stall’s back entrance. The kid squawked, but Cal hauled him inside. The boss—a gruff old man with grease-stained hands—looked up, ready to bark, until he saw the scrawny kid. “You need help?” Cal asked, holding Daan in place. The boss raised an eyebrow, glanced at Daan, then shrugged. “Could use a runner. Or someone to scrub.” Cal shoved Daan forward. “He’ll work. Keep him busy. Feed him. I’ll check in.” He gripped Daan’s shoulder, voice low. “Better behave. If I hear you caused trouble, you’ll wish you stayed hungry. Got it?” Daan gave a stiff nod. The fight was still in his eyes, but now there was something else—relief, maybe. Or hate. Probably both. Cal left him there. But he knew he’d be back. The memory faded, but the voice lingered—Daan’s teasing grin bleeding through it all. “You let this thing fall apart again, mate?” “Not now,” Cal hissed under his breath. He opened the side panel and fumbled with the wires. His knuckles scraped against the chassis, stinging in the cold rain. “Come on.” A jolt here, a prod there, and finally, the bike gave a reluctant cough. He thumped the side for good measure, and it sputtered to life, the dash flickering weakly back into existence. “Knew you still had it in you.” The knot of kids jeering nearby groaned at his success and dispersed, their taunts forgotten as Cal adjusted his seat. The growl of the engine sputtered unevenly as he guided the bike down the sloping descent toward the lower tiers. Calum weaved through the throng, his hover bike growling low like a caged animal. The streets simmered with life and noise, a boiling pot of vendors shouting prices, kids arguing over scraps, and drones hovering just out of reach like some mechanical vultures. Rain drizzled down in lazy streaks, turning the cobblestones slick and oily. Neon signs buzzed overhead, their garish colors spilling onto grimy puddles. A vendor’s cart spilled into his path, a tangled heap of plastic crates and dented cans of protein sludge. Cal jolted the bike to the side, its thrusters spitting out a sharp burst of heat. “Watch it, kid!” the vendor barked, shaking a gnarled hand at him. “Stay outta the road, old man!” The bike wobbled but held its course, skidding around a corner that opened into something barely resembling a street. Tall buildings leaned in, their facades smeared with layers of graffiti and grime from decades of neglect. LED panels dangled from their mounts, flickering erratically—ads promising everything from luxury implants to “premium oxygen filters” polluted the air just as much as the smog that stung Cal’s eyes. Another turn, another mess. Two gang brats, no older than twelve, were pelting an already-cracked drone with rocks. It whined and sputtered feebly, trying to lift its crooked frame off the ground. Cal could’ve sworn it screamed at them like an injured animal before one kid smashed its lens with a final throw. “Hey, scrap it somewhere else!” Cal shouted as he whipped past. One of them flung a rock in his direction, but it clattered harmlessly against the bike’s reinforced chassis. The ride down felt like falling—a long, steady tumble back into a world that felt like home, as gritty and chaotic as it was. Here, high-rise buildings slouched into hulking, mismatched constructions patched with graffiti and neon buzz. The antiseptic smells of corporate plazas gave way to wet metal, fried oil, and burnt circuits. Somewhere in the crush of stalls and signs below, Daan was probably running his mouth to some vendor, haggling for a better deal on synth supplies. The thought of him cracked a smile on Cal’s face, fleeting as the city blurred by. Daan’s overconfidence always seemed to pay off, even if it came with a risk Cal wouldn’t dare take. Cal zipped through the rain-slicked streets, the city alive around him. Vendors lined the alleys, their carts patched with neon panels advertising menus that promised nutrients and flavor but looked anything but trustworthy. Steam and smoke curled into the air like rival signals. Above, a floating ad droned softly, its holo-display projecting onto the low-hanging smog. A bright, impossibly clean bedroom materialized, complete with a shining blonde-haired boy about Daan’s age lying across the pristine bed. The words “DryNite: Rest Easy, Stay Confident!” scrolled beside him in cheery font. Cal snorted, his grin widening. The kid in the ad did look a little like Daan, minus the spotless setting. He could imagine showing it to him, teasing: “See? They got your good side, finally!” Daan would groan, probably flip him off while muttering something about corporate creeps. Cal shifted his weight on the bike, his eyes flicking back to the ad as it flickered into the haze. DryNite. He’d seen those plastered everywhere—on billboards, shop windows, even stamped onto delivery crates. Always the same message, like someone was obsessed with reminding the whole city not to wet the bed. His smirk twisted into something more skeptical. Did they need that crap up in Noctis, too? He pictured it—some perfect sky city, all gleaming towers and smiling families, everyone piss-soaked under their pastel jumpsuits. Maybe those rich kids had gold-plated diapers to match their parents’ chrome cars. The thought made him snicker, but there was a sour note under it. Because what if it was true? What if even in paradise, they were all still stuck in their beds like kids who couldn’t grow up? Shaking his head, Cal revved the throttle. Stupid. He didn’t know anything about Noctis. Didn’t know anyone who did. All he knew was here—smog, rust, and ads telling you to stay dry while you drowned in this city. But still… He glanced once more at the spot where the ad had hovered. Weird fucking world. The Flea surged forward, weaving through the maze of crumbling buildings and flashing neon. The moment of humor faded as the city’s weight pressed back in around him—but the question lingered. The building rose like a monolith, its exterior a seamless gray reflecting dull strips of distant billboard light. The bike hissed when he cut the engine, settling with a mechanical sigh. Cal swung his legs off, shaking out the stiffness in his arms. The damp city air clung to his jacket as he pulled it tighter around himself. “Okay,” he muttered under his breath, running both hands through his hair until it fell more or less the way he wanted. Adjusting the delivery’s satchel across his chest, he glanced at the corporate logo embossed on the drab package. Another faceless suit waiting for this, another payout barely enough to get by. Just another day. The sliding doors hissed open, releasing a wave of dry, processed air that felt like walking into a giant’s exhale. Cal stepped in, boots squeaking faintly against the polished floor, his gaze flicking over the reception area. Everything gleamed—white walls, chrome accents, artificial lighting so sharp it felt like a slap. The scent of sterilized nothingness filled his nostrils. Behind the desk sat a woman, her hair pulled into a severe bun so tight it seemed to stretch the skin around her temples. She didn’t look up, fingers darting across her console like she was playing some high-stakes game only she understood. The corporate uniform was sleek and spotless, a contrast to Cal’s patched-up jacket and scuffed boots. He sauntered up, the satchel of his delivery shifting against his hip. “Hey,” he said, leaning an elbow on the desk like he owned the place. “Got a package here. Thought maybe you’d like a break from crushing dreams with that death glare of yours.” The woman’s hands paused mid-typing. Slowly, she looked up, her expression unreadable, though the faint arch of her brow spoke volumes. “Got a name for the delivery?” Her tone was flat, clipped, like she hadn’t even registered the joke. “More like I was hoping to get your name,” Cal said, a grin sliding onto his face. “C’mon, you look like someone who knows her way around these sterile halls of misery. Maybe you could give me the grand tour sometime.” Her brow didn’t move. Instead, her eyes dropped back down to her screen as she typed something without acknowledging him. “Delivery box is outside the building,” she said, not looking up this time. “Use it.” “Uh, what?” “Box. Outside. For deliveries.” She gestured vaguely, her focus never leaving the screen. “This isn’t a drop-off point.” The grin fell from his face almost as fast as the heat rose in his cheeks. He blinked, a laugh catching awkwardly in the back of his throat. “Right. Sure. Makes sense. Why bother with human interaction, anyway?” She didn’t nod. Didn’t shrug. Didn’t even flinch. Her dismissiveness sealed the moment with the efficiency of a drone docking into its port. Cal straightened from the desk, adjusting his jacket like that would somehow patch up whatever dignity he had left. “Got it,” he muttered and turned on his heel, the satchel slapping against him as he pushed back through the entrance doors. Cal dropped the parcel into the delivery box with a hollow thunk. His watch buzzed before he could pocket it. A new message lit up the display, so brief yet potent enough to freeze him mid-motion: “9 PM. The Grasshopper. Drink’s on me.” No signature. Never needed one. Cal stood there for a moment, staring at the screen as the rain pattered down heavier now, tracing grimy lines down the window beside him. His mind skipped ahead to what waited—no, who waited. Dante Moretti. Steelhand. Even the name brought a weight to Cal’s shoulders. Dante didn’t just run this side of New Amsterdam—he owned it, every streetlight and shadow included. His reputation rippled through the Worker Blocks, through backdoor deals and whispered warnings. The syndicate’s leader had a way of getting his hooks into people like they didn’t even know they were bleeding. Cal wasn’t sure which he hated more: the charm Dante wielded like a weapon, or the fact it had worked on him. Dante had pulled him in months ago with promises too sharp to refuse, dangling opportunity like a magician dangling silver coins to a starving kid. Chance to survive. Chance to win. Or so Dante claimed. The message burned on the screen until Cal dimmed it. A drink at The Grasshopper meant one of only two things: trouble or a reckoning. Dante wasn’t the type to chat about the weather. Cal stared at the message, the faint glow of his watch illuminating his damp face. Rain dripped from the edge of his jacket, pooling at his feet as he stood frozen in the docking bay. Around him, the city continued unabated: drones buzzed, a vendor barked about “fresh” wares, and the faint crackle of an argument spilled out from a nearby alley. But Cal heard none of it. His mind had tunneled in on the message, playing and replaying it like a warning siren. The Grasshopper wasn’t a casual meeting spot. It was Syndicate ground, where Dante held court among his loyalists. No one got invited there without a reason—good or bad. Cal’s stomach tightened. A drink with Dante wasn’t an offer; it was a test, one where the stakes were never clear until it was too late. He dimmed the watch display and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to block out the cold creeping under his skin. What did Dante want this time? Another run? A job that would keep him tethered to the man just a little longer? It was impossible to say, and even more impossible to refuse. “Guess I don’t have a choice,” he muttered, the words swallowed by the patter of rain against the pavement. He glanced at his bike, still dripping from its sputtering trek through the city. It leaned slightly to one side, a rusted reflection of himself. Both battered, both running on borrowed time. For a moment, he thought about walking instead, as if the delay might change what waited for him. But the thought was fleeting. Dante didn’t wait for anyone. * * * The ride down felt like falling—a long, steady tumble back into a world that felt like home, as gritty and chaotic as it was. High-rise buildings slouched into hulking, mismatched constructions, their exposed metal bones patched with graffiti and rust. Neon lights buzzed and flickered erratically, pooling green, pink, and blue onto the rain-slicked streets. The city’s sounds rose like an orchestra of survival: boots clanging on metal, the chatter of drones, voices snapping in arguments down shadowed alleys. Water splashed against his boots as the bike cut through puddles, steam hissing faintly when the undercarriage scraped the drenched ground. Cal leaned into the curves, weaving past collapsed skywalks and crumbling platforms, his ribs aching from the pressure. He glanced up once—saw the upper tiers dissolve into smog, sterile towers hidden behind the murk. Down here, the air hit heavier. Wet metal. Fried oil. The tang of burnt circuits and damp rot. His stomach twisted, sharp and impatient, like it was trying to eat itself. He hadn’t eaten since that stale ration bar in the morning. The hunger felt familiar—an old companion, always whispering in the back of his mind, always tightening its grip. He pushed the bike harder, trying to outrun it, but hunger never needed to breathe. Daan’s voice cut through his thoughts like it always did. “You let this thing fall apart again, mate? What, hoping it’ll fix itself? Gotta love that strategy.” Cal could almost hear the grin behind it. He smirked despite himself, but his body sagged further against the bike. Daan wasn’t wrong—he’d always been the one patching up the flea when Cal ignored the rattles and leaks. Hunger twisted tighter in his gut, but this time, it wasn’t just food he craved. The lower streets pressed in tighter as he descended, alive with stalls and carts patched together from tarps and rusted metal. Vendors hawked under flickering signs, bold fonts flashing menus that made his mouth water. BitterSynth balls dusted with spice. Forge Fries drowning in neon-orange mayo. Smog Stroopwafels stacked like treasure, syrup glowing green as if it were mined from the city’s veins. The smells clawed at him, dragging his thoughts backward—to Daan, drenched from the rain, scarfing fries under that busted sign after Cal had given him a few swats and half a lecture. That same damn stall might still be there, grease in the air, the owner with his stained apron. The ache in his stomach sharpened, demanding more than just memory. He needed to eat. Needed something solid. By the time the rain thinned to a mist, Cal guided the bike into the narrow sprawl of Egelstraat. The street twisted into a maze of flickering signs and damp cobblestones. Stalls glowed faintly in the gloom, their lights dancing off puddles. Somewhere further down, he swore he heard Daan’s voice—sharp, laughing, maybe haggling with a customer. For a second, he considered stopping by, shaking him down for a free bite. But his stomach clawed again, pulling him toward the nearest vendor instead. He jerked the bike to a halt by a line of carts. Steam rose thick around him, oil snapping and batter crackling over flames. Signs promised nutrients and flavor, but everything here was a gamble. A woman in a rain poncho flipped something golden over a vat of oil. Another stand slathered skewers in glowing blue sauce that shimmered like coolant fluid under the lights. Cal’s eyes landed on a smaller cart—plain, no frills. Someone who didn’t need to dress up the food to get by. A stack of oversized stroopwafels sat under a scratched plastiglass cover, syrup glowing faintly green between ridged layers. The vendor, a stooped old man with birdlike eyes, pressed one onto a griddle with practiced flicks, the syrup bubbling sluggishly beneath the iron. Cal curled his lip but stepped forward anyway. Hunger didn’t care. “One of those,” he muttered, “and a Neo Oranjeboom.” The old man glanced up, voice like rusted gears. “Six credits.” “Six?” Cal scowled. “For a waffle and a drink? Syrup’s not made from real fruit.” “Prices went up. You want it or not?” Cal dug into his pocket, stomach twisting tighter. “Four.” The vendor’s eyes narrowed. Silence stretched. Then, a dry chuckle. “Five. Final offer.” “Fine.” Cal handed over the credits and took his food, ignoring the man’s grin. The stroopwafel was warm in his hands, syrup sticky through the paper. The algae scent hit first—salt with that faint chemical sweetness. Not appetizing, but not sickening either. It would do. He cracked open the Neo Oranjeboom—fizz and synthetic citrus stinging his tongue, metallic aftertaste settling in his throat. He leaned against a damp post, took a slow bite. Sweet syrup clung to his teeth, the salt cutting through the fake sugar just enough to make it edible. He washed it down with another swig of the drink. Daan’s voice stirred again, overlapping with the rain and the hiss of grills. “Gotta love that strategy.” Cal smirked. For a moment, the heat of the waffle, the sting of citrus, and the buzz of the city made things bearable. Not good—never good—but better than starving. It wouldn’t last. Nothing ever did. * * * The Flea purred to life as Cal kicked off the ground, its engine hiccupping before smoothing into a confident hum. He guided it through the shifting currents of traffic, the faint glow of its worn-out boosters cutting thin streaks through the grime-heavy air. The streets stretched darker and narrower the deeper he rode into the old Red District. Gone were the flashing holograms and buzzing nightlife—the legends of indulgence and glitter had long since withered, leaving behind hulking ruins and empty promises. The Red District still bore echoes of its infamous past. Its iconic window displays, once bathed in seductive neon hues, now flickered faintly or stood shattered, their glass panes smeared with grime. Where holograms once advertised fantasies, warnings about trespassing Syndicate-controlled areas now loomed overhead. Rusted grates replaced cobblestones, steam rising in uneven bursts from vents below. Waste fires smoldered nearby, their smoke biting at Cal’s throat. Above, scavengers moved along precarious catwalks, metallic footsteps clanging faintly like ghosts haunting the district’s remains. Cal tightened his grip on the handlebars as a figure loomed overhead. A scavenger perched on a broken catwalk glanced down, their shadow stretching across the street. He pretended not to notice the glint of a blade at their side, focusing instead on steering The Flea around a cluster of collapsed awnings. The boosters sputtered as he navigated the tight spaces, their sound reverberating off the towering ruins. A flickering green glow pulled his attention ahead. The Grasshopper’s sign hung like a beacon, its broken neon lighting up the street with fractured light. Even in disrepair, it commanded respect—a silent declaration of Syndicate territory. The carved emblem beneath the sign sent an unmistakable message: trespassers would regret it. Cal eased The Flea to a stop at the cracked curb, the cooling engine hissing softly under the drizzle. He stepped off, running a hand over his damp jacket as he glanced around, wary of prying eyes. The door swung open with a sluggish hydraulic hiss, spilling muted holo-screens and low murmurs into the damp night. Inside, the Grasshopper felt smaller than it looked from the outside. Stained booths lined the walls, their vinyl worn thin and patched. Tables, mismatched and scarred, were scattered unevenly across the floor. The bar had the sheen of desperation, its surface polished not by care but by years of wear. Runners clustered in groups along one side, their usual bravado stripped to uneasy whispers. Boys around Cal’s age leaned against walls or perched on stools, their glances darting toward the second-floor staircase like moths circling faint light. The heavy scent of rain-soaked leather and sweat thickened the air, amplifying the suffocating atmosphere. Most of the runners barely acknowledged him. They’d worked jobs together before, sure, but trust wasn’t something anyone here could afford. Cal moved to the edge of the cluster, keeping his distance but close enough to catch the tension rippling through the room. A tall guy with bleached blond hair and a split lip caught Cal’s eye before looking away, his fingers drumming erratically against the edge of an empty glass. His nerves were contagious—the entire group seemed strung too tight, like they’d been waiting too long for something they didn’t want. Cal didn’t sit. These weren’t his friends, and this wasn’t a place to get comfortable. The creak of the door broke the low hum of voices, pulling every gaze toward it. The sound sliced through the room like a warning, stretching the moment longer than necessary. When the door finally settled, the silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on. It loomed in full view now—the bench, its dark wood marred with scuffs and rounded edges from decades of use. It crouched low, angled with deliberate cruelty, straps dangling like waiting hands. The grain of the wood caught the dim light, revealing faint smudges and scratches—marks left by kicking feet and desperate palms pressed too hard. It wasn’t just a fixture; it was a monument, steeped in the weight of punishment and submission. Beside it, perched on an unsteady table, was the belt. Its thick leather was cracked and worn, the buckle glinting faintly in the dim light like an unblinking eye. Each crease in the leather and frayed thread of stitching seemed to carry stories no one wanted to tell. The sight of it turned the room colder, silencing even the faintest whispers. Someone shuffled uncomfortably. A scuffed boot dragged against the floor, the faint sound rippling unease through the group. No one spoke. No one dared. The bench and belt weren’t just objects—they were warnings, visible reminders of the price of disobedience. Cal forced himself to look away, focusing on the room instead of the memories clawing at him. The runners avoided his gaze, their attention fixed on the stairs or the floor. The room felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something—or someone—to break the silence. Cal didn’t know what was coming, but he knew better than to let his guard down in a place like this. The staircase groaned under heavy, deliberate steps. The air shifted as Dante appeared at the top, his frame filling the doorway like an iron shadow. His salt-and-pepper hair gleamed under the murky light, combed back with slick precision, and his steel hand rested lightly against the railing as if even the wood knew better than to resist him. Every eye in the room locked on him—or away from him—depending on their nerve. “Boys,” Dante started, his voice a measured rumble, neither stern nor soft. It carried the weight of someone who didn’t have to raise it to command silence. “I call you 'boys' because that’s what you’re acting like.” A handful of the runners shifted where they stood, boots scuffing the floor. Dante took another deliberate step forward, savoring his dominance over the room. His tailored suit seemed out of place amid the peeling walls and soaked coats, but that contrast only solidified his authority. He didn’t belong here; he owned here. “This… chatter,” Dante said, gesturing vaguely toward the muted conversation that had frozen the moment he arrived. “This waiting game you’re playing between jobs, this… downtime you think you’re entitled to.” His gray eyes swept across the crowd, stopping just long enough on a few faces to make them twitch. “It’s good fun, sure. For kids. But I need workers, not children.” He descended slowly, each step deliberate, each word sharper than the last. “You think this business runs on charm? On your half-assed grins and sloppy improvisations out there?” A humorless smile tugged at his lips. “No. It runs on precision. Discipline. And a willingness to understand that mistakes”—Dante’s steel hand flexed, the metallic fingers catching the light—“can be costly.” The runners stood frozen. Some nodded quickly, others avoided eye contact, but no one dared speak. Dante stopped at the bottom of the steps, giving the group just enough time to absorb his presence. He smoothed one sleeve of his suit almost absentmindedly, like it was the silk that mattered most in the room. Then, his voice dropped. “Inside,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. “All of you.” Several of the runners were already moving before he finished the sentence. Cal lingered a moment, watching the others funnel into the room at the base of the stairs before falling in behind them. Inside, the lighting was dimmer, softer, yet more oppressive in its quiet. The hum of a ventilation system was the only sound. A boy stood facing the wall on the far side of the room. His blond hair was unruly, sticking out at odd angles like he’d been caught in a strong wind—or a worse kind of chaos. His bomber jacket, too big for his frame, hung awkwardly around his shoulders, one sleeve slightly tugged up to reveal a sliver of pale, freckled skin. Daan. Cal swallowed hard, his chest tightening. Daan was an annoying little brother in all but name—a whirlwind of bad decisions and overconfidence that Cal couldn’t help but feel responsible for. The kid had a knack for talking his way into trouble, but this? This was different. This wasn’t the usual scrape he could laugh off later. This was Dante. The runners filed in silently, forming a tense semicircle near Dante’s side. The room dulled further under the weight of his presence. Cal lingered at the edge of the group, his fists clenched at his sides as he watched Daan fidget by the wall. He wanted to say something, do something, but the sharp edge of Dante’s authority pinned him in place. Dante’s steel-gray eyes bore into Daan, who shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, his head bowed slightly. The silence thickened until Dante’s voice cut through, sharp and even. “Daan,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with deliberate menace. “Why don’t you enlighten the boys? Tell them how you ended up here.” Daan’s shoulders pulled tight, bracing against the invisible weight of Dante’s words. His hands fidgeted near the hem of his bomber jacket, thumbs tracing the fraying fabric. When he turned, his wide blue eyes darted to Dante’s for the briefest moment before falling to the floor. His voice came low and halting. “Got… got stopped by the Watch,” Daan stammered. “Came outta nowhere. They… uh… tagged my bike. Took the stuff.” The runners exchanged uneasy glances, murmurs rippling through the room like static. Cal’s jaw tightened as he scanned their faces. None of them would lift a finger to help Daan. Not now. Not with Dante here. “Stopped?” Dante repeated, his tone colder now. “Gone. Just like that?” Daan swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to answer. “It wasn’t my fault,” he said quickly, though his voice lacked conviction. “They had drones, circling the corner—” Dante stepped forward, boots clicking faintly on the floor. The sound was enough to make Daan flinch, his hands freezing mid-fidget. Dante’s metallic fingers twitched as he gestured, the movement deliberate and slow. “The jacket,” Dante said softly, almost kindly. “Off.” The room tensed. Cal’s fists curled tighter. He wanted to yell at Daan to stop shaking, to stand his ground. But he couldn’t. Daan’s breath hitched as his fingers hovered over the jacket’s zipper. He hesitated, looking briefly toward the runners as if searching for support, but no one met his gaze. “Off,” Dante repeated, sharper now, his steel hand catching the dim light. Daan’s motions were slow and mechanical, like his body resisted every command. The jacket fell to the floor with a muted thud, pooling around his feet. The heavy material looked even more lifeless crumpled on the ground. Cal’s chest ached as he watched the kid he’d spent months trying to protect shrink into himself under the weight of the room’s judgment. “Pants too,” Dante said, dispassionately. This time, Daan froze completely. His usually animated face was distant now, locked somewhere far away. The room held its breath. Daan’s hands hovered over his waist, fingers uncertain as they brushed against the metal clasp of his belt. His gaze darted to Cal, desperate and wide-eyed, but Cal looked away, his stomach churning. Don’t look. Don’t make it worse. The leather belt slid free with a faint hiss. Daan’s breath hitched. For a second, it seemed like the room itself leaned in, waiting. Daan’s movements were halting as he nudged his pants down over narrow hips. They fell to pool around his ankles with a soft rustle, revealing boxer briefs patterned with faded cartoon rockets—a boyish design that made Cal’s stomach twist harder. A ripple of discomfort moved through the gathered runners. One kid shifted on his feet, then quickly looked away. Daan’s face flushed deep crimson. He squared his shoulders, forcing his chin up defiantly even as his hands twitched faintly at his sides. His eyes, unusually bright and wet-looking in the dim light, locked somewhere far above Dante’s shoulder in an effort to endure the moment. Cal’s chest burned. He’s just a kid, he thought bitterly, though the logic did nothing to loosen the knots twisting in his gut. You’re supposed to protect him from this. From himself. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not without dragging himself into Dante’s crosshairs too. “Brave face as always, is that it?” Dante said, almost amused. His voice was smooth, unhurried, like this was all just another piece of theater. His steel hand moved toward the bench, his fingers curling lightly around its edge. “Then let’s see it through.” He gestured with his other hand to the bruised and battered wood. "Lay down," he said, his tone calm, almost conversational, as if the instruction wasn't cutting the room like a blade. Dante ran the belt through his hands slowly, the leather whispering against his calloused palm and the glinting steel of his artificial fingers. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, as if each pass was meant to stretch the silence. He didn’t acknowledge the semicircle of runners watching, nor the tension stringing their shoulders tight as wires. His full attention pinned to Daan, who stood in the center of the room, trembling and half-bared. "You know, Daan," Dante began, his voice soft, almost conversational, “you remind me of my eldest, back when he was about your age.” He gripped one end of the belt and snapped it just once, the sound cutting through the air like a wet slap. Daan’s flinch was barely perceptible, but Dante caught it, his lips twitching into something resembling a smile. “He used to get these bright ideas, think he could outsmart everyone around him. Kinda like you, showing off, running faster than you can think.” Dante took a step closer, dragging one end of the belt against the edge of the bench. The sound was low, abrasive, a faint scrape that set teeth on edge. “And you know where those bright ideas landed him? On the wrong side of a situation we both regretted.” His artificial hand flexed, the metal digits tapping rhythmically on the wood. “But eventually, he learned. Because I taught him. I straightened him out.” Daan’s hands twitched, but he didn’t move otherwise. His chin was still slightly raised, though the defiance in his features had withered, leaving something fragile in its place. Dante raised the belt again, folding it in half with smooth, precise movements, testing the seam as though measuring its worth. “Does that sound familiar to you, kid?" His eyebrows arched slightly, mock sincerity shaping his face. Daan opened his mouth like he might respond, but no sound came out. His eyes flickered down to the belt, and the faintest shiver ran through him. Dante let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as though he’d expected as much. “All bravado until the moment comes. You try to run before you’ve ever learned to walk.” He turned the belt over in his hands again, its buckle sparkling faintly under the faint lights. "And look where that got you—a bench you’d rather not get acquainted with.” The room felt suffocating, the air thick and unmoving, saturated with expectation. Dante sighed, long and theatrical, tapping his steel hand against the wooden bench. "I don’t do this because I hate you, you know. Quite the opposite." His voice was soft now, almost fatherly, and that somehow made it worse. "This? This is guidance. This is setting you straight so you don’t land somewhere darker, somewhere nobody can pull you back from." He crouched slightly—not to Daan’s level, but enough to loom like a parent delivering hard truths to a wayward child. “This,” Dante murmured, one final, deliberate tap against the bench, “is discipline." His tone left no room for anything else. Dante’s steel hand shot out, seizing the waistband of Daan’s underwear with mechanical precision. The fabric bunched in his grip, taut and thin against the edges of his metallic fingers. “Please—don’t!” Daan’s voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a raw, desperate plea. His knees wavered, like they might buckle under him, but he stayed upright, trembling, arms motionless at his sides. Calum’s breath caught, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding in front of him. His fists clenched tight, fingernails digging into his palms. His mind roared with static, a flood of thoughts that tangled and drowned each other out. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to do something, but he felt rooted to the spot, frozen in place as his stomach churned. The air felt thin, his chest tight, as if the room itself was drawing all the oxygen away. This couldn’t be happening. Dante flipped the belt over in his hands, pulling the smooth leather through his steel fingers like he had all the time in the world. The gesture was slow, deliberate, the kind made to keep every nerve in the room humming on edge. His gray eyes stayed locked on Daan, as if no one else existed, as if the runners gathered around had disappeared into the peeling paint of the walls. “You see, this isn’t just about you,” Dante said, conversational now, like he was explaining bedtime rules to a misbehaving child. “When you mess up, you’re not just putting yourself on the line. You’re making a statement. You’re saying to me—saying to everyone—that discipline doesn’t matter. That trust? It’s optional.” He snapped the belt taut between his hands, the sharp crack slicing through the dense silence. Daan flinched, his shoulders hunching instinctively, though he didn’t dare take a step back. His fingers twitched, brushing against the hem of his shirt, but he didn’t move to cover himself. His jaw was set, but his eyes darted to the floor, as if the tile might offer some kind of reprieve. Dante’s voice softened, a mockery of sympathy curling at the edges. “But you don’t really understand that, do you? You’re still just a kid, running errands, playing at being a big shot.” He tossed the belt lightly from one hand to the other, like it was a toy, the buckle catching the dim light with each arc. “You think your little screw-ups go unnoticed? Like there’s no price for making me look weak?” The runners standing off to the sides stayed stock-still, their breaths barely audible, eyes fixed anywhere but on Daan. Even the air felt still, tight with something unspoken. Dante paced a half-step forward, letting the belt dangle from his cybernetic fingers now, swinging faintly like a predator’s tail. “I could ignore it,” Dante mused, his tone light, conversational. “I could let you off with a slap on the wrist and some kind words about learning from failure. But then”—he leaned forward, his voice dipping lower—“what kind of example would I be setting for everyone else?” Daan’s lip twitched, words hovering just out of reach on his tongue. He froze under Dante’s gaze, a rabbit caught under the shadow of a hawk. His breath came sharp, uneven, his chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic motions that he couldn’t quite control. “That’s the problem with your generation,” Dante continued, as though Daan’s silence was agreement enough. “You think there aren’t consequences. That a nice smile, a quick excuse, is all it takes to scrape by.” He looped the belt in his hand again, his movements calm, almost rhythmic. “But it doesn’t work like that. Not here. Respect is earned, Daan. It’s proven through sweat, through blood, through knowing your place and keeping to it.” Dante tilted his head slightly, studying Daan like he was some puzzle he hadn’t quite solved yet. “You want to prove yourself, don’t you? You want to show me you’ve got what it takes to run with the big dogs, that you’re not just a scared little boy playing dress-up.” Daan didn’t answer, didn’t even nod. His shoulders drew tighter, every muscle in his wiry frame wound like a spring. The shadows of Dante’s words coiled around him, heavy and suffocating. The belt swung lazily at Dante’s side, swaying against the sharp line of his tailored pants. “You’ve got potential,” Dante said, his tone somehow both cold and fatherly, a layer of silk draped over iron. “But potential doesn’t mean a damn thing without discipline. Without obedience.” The belt snapped again, a quick, sharp crack that reasserted its presence in a way no amount of words could. The belt’s crack against bare skin echoed sharply, louder than any noise in the room save for Daan's sharp gasp, his body jerking involuntarily. Dante’s face remained unflinching, an almost paternal disapproval etched into his expression. “Do you know what your problem is?” Dante asked, his voice calm, as though carrying out this violent theater was part of a standard debriefing. “You think you’re the exception. That the rules don’t apply to you. But they do, Daan. Oh, they do.” Another strike landed, the same deliberate motion, the same sharp snap of leather meeting flesh. Daan lowered his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bench so tightly that his knuckles whitened. A strained grunt slipped from his lips, though he bit down on it quickly, his jaw locking. “I give you a task, and what do you do?” Dante continued, pacing behind the boy, the belt swaying at his side. “You take liberties. You make decisions. But you’re not here to decide things, are you?” He leaned in closer, his tone softening—mocking intimacy. “You’re here to follow.” Another strike. Daan’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched against the grain of the wood, but he didn’t let go. “That’s how this works, Daan. It’s how it always works,” Dante said, rising back to his full height as he took a step back, surveying the boy. “You think loyalty is enough? It’s not. It’s worthless without discipline.” Dante punctuated the word with another lash. Daan’s back flinched in response, his shoulders shivering involuntarily, though his mouth stayed shut now, refusing to let another sound escape. “You don’t just let the Watch take our goods,” Dante continued, every word landing heavier than the straps of leather. “You don’t ‘botch’ an errand. You don’t let yourself get caught.” This time when he swung the belt, it hit not with the same force, but with a deliberate finality. The snap was quieter, but the weight of it still hung in the air, leaving Daan trembling faintly where he knelt. Dante stepped back again, tossing the belt onto the nearby table in a motion that spoke of his practiced ease. He smoothed his tailored jacket, his steel hand clicking faintly as it adjusted his cufflinks. “Get up,” he ordered smoothly, as if he hadn’t been mid-punishment mere moments before. For a second, Daan didn’t move. His hands stayed glued to the bench, head still lowered. Then, slowly, shakily, he pushed himself upright, his movements stiff and uneven. His face burned. Shame pooled across his features as he avoided the gazes of the gathered runners, his bright blue eyes focused firmly on the floor. Dante turned slightly, gesturing toward the hallway. “Restroom’s that way. Clean yourself up. Compose yourself. When you come back, you’ll act like this never happened. Understood?” Daan nodded, a quick jerk of his head, but his voice faltered as he mumbled something inaudible. Dante clicked his tongue, a low sound of disapproval. “Louder.” “Yes,” Daan croaked, his voice hollow, barely more than a whisper. “Good boy,” Dante said, his tone sliding into mocking indulgence. He motioned with a flick of his hand, and the boy hurried toward the back hallway, the too-big bomber jacket dragged limply over one arm. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room in silence save for the faint hum of the holo-projector from the corner. Dante turned back toward the other runners, his gaze sweeping over their faces like a cold wind. “That,” he said finally, his voice heavy with meaning, “is what happens when someone doesn’t follow orders. You think I enjoy that?” He gestured toward the direction Daan had gone with a lazy wave of his hand. “You think I want to waste my time teaching a lesson that should’ve already been learned?” No one responded, though some shifted uncomfortably where they stood, their gazes locked on various points of the room to avoid facing Dante’s. “Loyalty,” Dante said, his voice cutting through the stagnant air. “Discipline. They are the pillars that keep us standing in this city. Without them”—he spread his hands, his steel one gleaming faintly—“we fall. All of us. And I won’t let that happen. Not for something so foolish as sloppiness.” He moved toward the table, his steel hand tapping lightly against its surface as he let his words hang. “You think this is harsh. You think it’s cruel. Maybe it is. But this world we live in—it doesn’t care about fairness. It doesn’t care about kindness. All it cares about is strength.” Dante’s gaze settled on each of them in turn, his expression unreadable. “So,” he said, his voice softening to something almost conversational, almost kind, “which one of you wants to be next to test me?” The silence that followed was deafening. Dante turned his head slowly, satisfaction carefully hidden behind a mask of composure. His steel-gray eyes pressed against Daan, heavy and unrelenting, as he gestured toward the far corner of the room. “Over there,” he said, his voice firm but stripped of its usual mockery. “Face the wall. Don’t move.” Daan swallowed hard, his shoulders stiffening. He didn’t argue. Each step toward the wall was deliberate, his bomber jacket swaying awkwardly with his uneven movements. When he reached the corner, he pressed his palms flat against the wall, his chin dipping to his chest. He looked smaller now—fragile, folded into himself—but he stayed silent. “Stay there,” Dante said. The finality in his tone left no room for anything else. He turned to the rest of the runners, his sharp motion scattering their attention. “Get out. All of you.” The room stirred with cautious shuffling as the runners filed out. No one dared glance at Daan or Calum. The door swung shut with a slow, stilted creak, leaving only three people behind. The silence stretched, pressing against Calum like invisible walls. Dante tapped his steel hand against the table. “Calum,” he said, tilting his head toward him. “You stay.” Calum’s stomach churned, his eyes fixed on the faint scuff marks near his shoes. The weight of the empty room pressed harder than the crowd had. Dante’s presence filled the silence effortlessly as he moved toward Daan. The room felt cavernous now, its silence stretching like unseen walls pressing inward. Calum kept his gaze on the faint scuff marks near his shoes, the weight of the empty space pressing harder than the crowd had. Dante’s presence filled it effortlessly, his every movement deliberate as he walked toward the corner where Daan stood, restrained by the wall's sullen gray. “Daan,” Dante said, his voice sharp and crisp, slicing through the thickened air. Daan flinched but turned, his usual bravado completely erased, replaced by a kind of vacant shame Calum hadn’t seen on him before. His eyes darted to Calum for a split second before settling somewhere ambiguous near Dante’s shoulder. “Tomorrow,” Dante continued, steel fingers tapping a measured rhythm against his human hand. “You’re going out with Calum. You’ll listen to him. You’ll stick to him. You’ll learn your place.” Calum barely suppressed a groan. Babysitting Daan? Again? The kid was a walking disaster—too cocky for his own good and too green to understand half the risks he took. Daan wasn’t just reckless; he was the kind of reckless that got other people in trouble, and now it was Calum’s turn to carry the fallout. Daan’s chin dipped lower, his lips pressing into a thin, pale line. He gave a subtle nod, the bomber jacket hanging unevenly off his small frame like a forgotten thought. He didn’t bother with words, and Calum bit back the urge to snap at him for once. Great, Calum thought bitterly. He screws up, and I’m the one who pays for it. “Understood?” Dante prompted, his tone now a command cloaked as a question. “Yes,” Daan muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Dante turned then, his steel-gray gaze landing on Calum like a weight. “He’s your shadow for the night. If he screws up—if anything happens—it’s on you.” His steel hand scraped against the edge of the table as he spoke, the sound low and deliberate. “You know what that means.” Calum nodded stiffly, his stomach churning. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady despite the frustration bubbling under the surface. He shot Daan a sidelong glance, catching the kid’s wide-eyed silence and slumped shoulders. You’re a lot less annoying when you’re quiet, he thought, though the resentment felt hollow. “Good.” Dante waved absently toward Daan, his dismissal abrupt. “You’ll find your bike waiting for you tomorrow morning. Try not to wreck it this time.” Daan’s shoulders twitched at the words, his expression flickering with something indecipherable—resentment? Gratitude? Calum didn’t care to figure it out. He just wanted to get out of there. “You too,” Dante said, his back already to them as he gestured toward the exit. His tone left no room for argument. Calum tilted his head toward the doorway, signaling Daan to follow. Together, they trudged out into the corridor, their footsteps muffled against the worn floorboards. The silence between them stretched heavier with every step, but Calum didn’t break it. He couldn’t decide if he was more annoyed at Dante for sticking him with this or at Daan for needing the babysitter role in the first place. “Keep up,” Calum muttered under his breath, shooting a glance back at Daan. The kid’s jacket hung off him like dead weight, and his usually defiant expression was nowhere to be found. For a moment, Calum’s irritation wavered, replaced by something closer to pity. He shoved it down quickly. This wasn’t about feeling sorry for Daan. It was about making sure neither of them ended up in Dante’s crosshairs again. * * * Daan winced as he finally gave his backside a tentative rub, his fingers brushing over the sore spots where the belt had landed. He shot Calum a quick, sheepish glance, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Calum leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You gonna make it, kid? Or do I need to carry you home like a sack of potatoes?" Daan’s face reddened further, and he straightened up quickly, trying to mask the discomfort. "I’m fine," he muttered, though his voice cracked slightly. He shifted his weight, his bomber jacket bunching awkwardly around his hips. Calum’s smirk widened as his eyes flicked downward for a split second, catching the unmistakable bulge straining against the front of Daan’s pants. He raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with mock concern. "You sure about that? Looks like you’ve got more than just your pride hurting." Daan froze, his hands instinctively moving to adjust his jacket, pulling it lower to cover himself. His face burned as he glared at Calum, though there was no real heat behind it. "Shut up," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. Calum chuckled, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "Relax, kid. It happens to the best of us." He clapped Daan on the shoulder, his grin softening just a fraction. "Come on, I’ll take you home. You look like you could use a break." Daan shook his head quickly, taking a step back. "Nah, I’m good. I’ll walk." He shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself smaller. "I need the air anyway." Calum studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just don’t get caught by the Watch again, or Dante might actually kill you next time." Daan nodded stiffly, avoiding Calum’s gaze as he turned and started down the dimly lit street. His steps were slow and deliberate, each one carrying the weight of the night’s humiliation. Calum watched him go for a moment before shaking his head and heading in the opposite direction. Daan muttered curses under his breath, his hands reaching back to rub at the sting that lingered across his backside. His bomber jacket shifted awkwardly as he twisted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Man, what the hell. That hurt like—I dunno—like a hundred slaps from a hover propeller.” Calum leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his lips twitching into a grin. “Yeah? That’s kind of the point, genius.” Daan scowled, his hand still lingering over the insulted area. “Maybe Dante could’ve just yelled or something. Like a normal boss. That’d hurt less, you know.” “Oh, no doubt,” Cal drawled, his grin widening. “But then you’d probably just brush it off and go screw up again, wouldn’t you?” Daan shot him a glare, his cheeks puffing out slightly before he turned away and adjusted his oversized jacket. His hand finally dropped to his side, though his boots scuffed against the floor like he didn’t know where to direct the residual embarrassment. “Not like it’s any of your business,” he mumbled. Cal shook his head, stepping away from the wall and giving Daan an easy slap on the shoulder. “Come on, don’t pout. You’ll live.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “I’ll give you a lift back home. Make sure you don’t get yourself into more trouble on the way.” Daan’s eyes darted up, unsure, before he shook his head quickly. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll walk.” Cal quirked an eyebrow, scrutinizing his little tagalong as Daan adjusted his jacket again, the collar popping up around his neck as if he were trying to hide behind it. The kid’s usual cheeky bravado wasn’t sticking; instead, there was just this odd, sulky quiet. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out why he wasn’t in a rush to climb on the back of a hover bike tonight. “Wish you hadn't Dante’s handprint tattooed back there, huh?” Cal teased, smothering another laugh as Daan flushed deeper. Daan groaned, shoving his fists in his jacket pockets. “Shut up, Cal. I’ll be fine.” “Fine, fine.” Cal raised his hands in mock surrender. “Enjoy your reflective stroll or whatever.” He watched as Daan made his way toward the exit, shoulders stiff but movements unsure, like he half-expected Cal to say something else. It was kind of...cute, in a way. Not that he’d ever tell Daan that; the kid’s head would explode. As the door swung shut behind him, Cal smirked, shaking his head. His eyes flicked to the neon glow of a nearby Escapepod sign through the fogged windows. “Guess we both need a breather,” he muttered, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets as he turned toward the bar’s side exit. The engine of The Flea roared to life as Calum coaxed the stubborn hover bike into action. Neon light spilled over the slick pavement, streaks of pink and green reflected in the warped metal of his handlebars. He adjusted his gloves, the worn leather creaking under his grip, and eased the bike forward, weaving into the chaotic rhythm of the Red District. The night was alive with noise and grit. Music boomed from clubs, muffled by heavy steel doors that slammed open and shut with drunken streams of patrons. Laughter and shouting mingled with the metallic grind of machinery and the hum of neon signs. A faint haze lingered in the air, a mix of smog and synthetic perfumes that clashed with the distant scent of fried food from the street carts. Cal sped through narrow alleys and dodged the occasional stumbling crowd. His jacket flared behind him, catching the air as he leaned into tight turns. The Flea sputtered but held together, the patched-up engine whining in protest. He didn’t slow down. Speed had a way of making the world blur just enough to forget its weight. When he pulled up to the Escapepod, the rhythmic thrum of bass from a nearby club vibrated through the air. The building was a nondescript concrete block, except for the garish, flickering sign buzzing overhead. Dark-green letters spelled out "ESCAPEPOD" above a glowing arrow that pointed past a rusted steel door. Inside, the smell hit him first—sweat, cheap disinfectant, and the faint plastic tang of overused tech. The receptionist behind the counter glanced up from a well-worn InstaTab but didn’t bother with a greeting. Cal slapped a few crumbled credits on the counter, smirking as the credits were counted and swept away without a word. The attendant jerked a thumb toward the back. “Cubicle two-oh-six. Try not to break anything.” “Sure thing,” Cal replied, his voice edged with sarcasm. He pocketed his rental stub and made his way down the narrow corridor, the overhead lights flickering in protest against unreliable wiring. Cubicle 206 was barely more than a closet. The door screeched open, revealing a battered couch with stuffing peeking from its seams, a rickety table shoved into the corner, and an ancient VR setup that looked like it might disintegrate if someone so much as sneezed on it. Cal dropped onto the couch, his weight sending up a faint cloud of dust. He stared at the VR headset hanging limply from its stand, wires snaking down in tangled disarray. A touch of nostalgia flickered through him—not the good kind. He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed, rubbing his temple. “Guess they’re not wasting the budget on upgrades, huh?” His voice echoed faintly in the cramped space. Pulling the headset on, he tightened the straps until it felt secure, though it pinched uncomfortably against his ears. The padding was all but gone, leaving brittle plastic edges to dig into his skin. He adjusted one of the earpieces, tapping it lightly until a sharp hum crackled through the speakers. With a grimace, he pressed the worn power button on the side. The screen lit up—a mess of flickering pixels and distorted colors. “Come on, work with me,” he muttered to the machine, fiddling with the clunky controls until the image stabilized, albeit slightly crooked. The faint whir of the outdated processor sounded like a motor on its last legs. Lying back, Cal sank deeper into the couch’s uneven cushions, one hand settling on his chest as he stared into the hollow glow of the visor. The sky stretched wide and golden above him, cloudless and heavy with sunlight that soaked into his skin. Small green shoots pushed through the rich, dark soil under his fingertips, their leaves trembling as if in anticipation. Cal dug his hands deeper into the dirt, feeling the cool, grainy texture cling to his nails. It smelled earthy, alive, laced with the tang of something sweet—like honey wafting on a lazy summer breeze. He crouched there, a little boy again, barefoot and scrappy, his too-big shirt hanging off one shoulder. The noontime warmth softened the sharp edges of his thoughts, dulling everything to an easy, manageable hum. Around him, the garden buzzed with life. Bees flitted between fat, colorful blooms, their wings humming a tune that blended with the soft rustle of leaves. A lemon tree stood tall in one corner, its yellow globes gleaming like tiny suns. Somewhere, water burbled, a quiet and constant rhythm. The tree reminded him of something—not quite a memory, but close. Summers that felt too distant now, filled with laughter and light. He didn’t want to lose this, not yet. “Calum!” The voice broke through the stillness, firm and insistent, distant at first but drawing closer with every syllable. The golden sky flickered. His chest tightened as he pressed his hands deeper into the dirt, scattering seeds into the furrow he’d carved. He wasn’t going to ruin this—not now, not yet. Not for him. “Didn’t you hear me, son?” The voice came from directly behind him now, low and pointed. The golden warmth drained away. The sky shattered into gray static, the sun glitching into blank pixels before dissolving entirely. Calum tore the headset off with a growl, the strap snagging in his hair before it dropped into his lap. The booth’s VR machine whined unevenly, then stuttered to silence. The air around him smelled of disinfectant and hot plastic, jarring against the sweetness of the garden. The faint hum of the screen behind him blinked erratically before fizzing out for good. “Seriously?” Cal muttered, gripping the headset and inspecting the frayed wires sticking out from its side. The damn thing was ancient—just another broken relic in a city of broken relics. He pushed off the couch and yanked open the door, letting it slam against the wall as he stepped into the corridor. His boots thudded against the cracked tiles, carrying him toward the reception desk where the same disinterested man from earlier still lounged, scrolling through his InstaTab. “Hey. Booth two-oh-six is fried,” Cal said, dropping the headset onto the counter with a dull clunk. The man didn’t look up, flicking his finger across the screen lazily. “Not my problem, kid.” “It’s your junk hardware,” Cal snapped, leaning over the counter now. “You gave me twenty minutes of a busted sky before the thing crapped out completely.” The man sighed, glancing at the damaged headset with minimal interest. “You paid for the hour. You got the hour.” He shrugged, tapping his InstaTab and scrolling again. “No refunds.” Cal’s fists curled at his sides, the tops of his ears burning. He wasn’t even mad about the credits. It was the reminder—that even here, in some dingy VR booth, he couldn’t hold onto something good. “You’re kidding me. The whole thing died, and you don’t even care?” “Look,” the man said, finally glancing up, though his expression was as apathetic as ever. “You wanna waste more credits, there’s a shop ‘bout three blocks over. They rent better sets. My machines work just fine.” Cal snorted. “Yeah, they ‘work just fine’ as scrap. Don’t expect me to come back to this dump.” “Trust me, kid, I’ll survive the heartbreak,” the man replied, already dropping his gaze back to the InstaTab. Cal shook his head sharply, his lips compressing into a thin line before he pivoted and stalked toward the exit. His hand shoved against the metal push bar, sending the door flying open with more force than necessary. Outside, the night stretched on, smudged neon reflected in the puddles dotting the uneven street. The air smelled of damp metal and spilled oil, the chill biting at his skin as his breath curled faintly into the air. He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and started back toward the dockyards, his steps echoing softly in the quiet street. The undercity loomed ahead, a warren of tight alleys and crumbling facades bathed in dim washes of neon. Pipes snaked along walls like arteries, dripping condensation that shimmered faintly in the light. The Flea sputtered as it glided to a stop in front of a squat building, its rust-covered exterior broken up by streaks of graffiti and scorch marks. Cal dismounted, kicking the bike stand into place before cutting the power. The hum died abruptly, leaving only the faint buzz of a flickering streetlamp overhead. Inside, the air hit him—a sour mix of mildew and burnt oil, thick enough to cling to his throat. He hunched his shoulders as he moved through the narrow hallway, passing scavenged doors marked by numbers half-erased by time. The place had its own kind of heartbeat—pipes groaning and water hissing through its veins, as alive and worn as the city itself. The communal showers were no better. A single bulb buzzed overhead, casting a weak yellow glow over stained tiles and rusted fixtures. Steam coiled faintly in the air, mixing with the acrid tang of wet grout. Cal dropped his jacket onto the rickety bench with a sigh, tugging his grimy shirt off and adding it to the pile. For a moment, he hesitated, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain. The water sputtered free in bursts, rattling the pipes before settling into a weak, steady stream. Against all odds, warmth licked his skin. He exhaled, letting the rust-colored water carry away the soot of the day, his head tilting forward as droplets slid down his neck and shoulders. The grime dissolved, but the weight stayed. The undercity didn’t just weigh on him—it clung to him, thick and heavy like the dirt he scrubbed off every night but never truly escaped. When the water ran cold, he pushed through, scrubbing his hair with numbed fingers. The air felt sharper against his damp skin as he dressed in the least-worn clothes he could manage—a cleanish hoodie and loose jeans from his stash. On the way back to his unit, he passed Joost leaning against a doorframe, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. “Cal,” Joost drawled, smoke curling like ghosts around his words. “How’s the Flea holding up?” “Alive,” Cal replied, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. “For now.” Joost chuckled, tapping ash onto the floor. “Runnin’ ’er hard, no doubt. You spend more time fixing that wreck than riding it.” “Maybe. Keeps me busy, though.” Joost squinted, his gaze dragging over Cal like he was reading a puzzle. “You been to The Grasshopper tonight?” Cal stiffened. “Just passing through. Nothing big.” Joost didn’t push. “Keep your head low, kid. You’re a good one—I’d hate to see you in boots from the Syndicate’s last shipment. You know what I mean.” Cal swallowed hard, his hand brushing the keycode panel. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His fingers brushed over the keycode panel, punching in the combination without meeting Joost’s eyes. The lock clicked, then scrapped open. Behind him, Joost had taken another drag, muttering something under his breath that the sound of hinges drowned out. Cal stepped inside and let the door shut behind him, leaning briefly against it while the sounds of the hallway faded back into the ever-present hum of the building. Cal dropped onto the thin mattress, its springs groaning in protest as he shifted to find a tolerable position. The dim yellow light that seeped through a crack in the wall barely illuminated the room, mixing with the faint, pale glow of Noctis and the moon pouring through the small, grimy window. The air inside was cold, sharp against his damp skin, and the mattress creaked as though it resented his weight. The faint buzz of his neighbors arguing in muffled, distant tones blended into the groan of the overhead pipes, creating an unending symphony of the building. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the shadows of wiry pipes snaking above him. His fingers brushed over the threadbare blanket, drawing aimless patterns as his mind drifted. Joost’s words lingered faintly in his head. Keep your head low. You’re a good one—I’d hate to see you in boots from the Syndicate’s last shipment. Calum snorted softly, though the sound was swallowed by the room’s dull hum. Keeping his head low was easier said than done. The undercity had a way of dragging you into its grind, no matter how tightly you clung to the edges. Through the streaked glass, Noctis’s light stretched and shifted—waves of cold silver that painted jagged marks on the walls and floor. It moved like it was alive, like it was reaching for him. The light felt like a reminder of something distant, untouchable—hope, maybe. Or something he’d already lost. The pillow crunched faintly under his head as he turned, his gaze following the shifting patterns on the window. His thoughts tangled and unraveled, slipping between the hum of the building and the glow of Noctis, until the world blurred and quieted. Calum’s breath slowed. The faint arguments next door, the creak of the pipes, the shifting silver—it all dulled into the background. He let his eyelids fall, the light dancing behind them one last time before it faded completely. Daan shuffled down the narrow street, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his oversized bomber jacket. The neon glow of a shop sign caught his eye—Pleasure Palace—its pink letters flickering like a bad joke. He hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder before pushing the door open. A bell jingled overhead, its cheerful sound clashing with the shop’s dim, cluttered interior. The air inside was thick with the scent of cheap plastic and artificial cherry. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with boxes of toys and gadgets, their packaging faded and peeling. A bored-looking clerk leaned against the counter, scrolling through an InstaTab, barely glancing up as Daan approached. “Uh, hey,” Daan started, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You got anything… uh, synthetic? Like, realistic?” The clerk raised an eyebrow, setting the InstaTab down with a sigh. “Realistic? Sure. What’s your budget?” Daan fidgeted, pulling a crumpled wad of credits from his pocket. “Not much. Just… something decent.” The clerk smirked, disappearing into the back room and returning with a sleek black box. He set it on the counter with a thud. “This one’s on sale. Last model we got. Still sealed.” Daan eyed the box warily. The image on the front showed a glossy, lifelike figure with a smile that looked almost too perfect. He flipped it over, scanning the specs printed in tiny font. “How much?” “Two-fifty,” the clerk said, crossing his arms. Daan winced. “Two-fifty? That’s half my creds.” “Take it or leave it, kid.” Daan chewed his lip, glancing between the box and his meager stack of credits. He hesitated, then sighed, pushing the credits across the counter. “Fine. Deal.” The clerk smirked again, scooping up the credits and sliding the box toward him. “Enjoy.” Daan fumbled with the keypad to his unit, the box tucked awkwardly under his arm. The door clicked open, and he slipped inside, kicking it shut behind him. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of Noctis filtering through the grimy window. He dropped the box onto the bed and shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. His fingers trembled slightly as he undid his belt, the anticipation coiling low in his stomach. He pushed his pants down, freeing his erection from the confines of his boxers. The cool air made him shiver, but he barely noticed, his focus already on the box. He tore open the packaging, pulling out the sleek silicone toy. It felt heavy in his hands, smooth and warm to the touch despite its artificiality. Daan ran his fingers over it, testing the texture before positioning it on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he guided himself into the tight opening, a low groan escaping his lips as the pressure enveloped him. He paused for a moment, savoring the sensation before starting to move. His hips rocked forward in slow, deliberate motions, each thrust building the pleasure steadily. The room filled with the sound of his shallow breaths and soft moans, the rhythm of his movements growing more urgent. His hands gripped the edge of the bed tightly, knuckles white as he lost himself in the sensation.

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections A Bedwetter on Camp Lena had always thought of herself as mature for her age. Not in a try-hard way—she wasn’t the type to flaunt it. But in small, steady ways. She didn’t flake on plans. She showed up on time. She kept her room clean even when no one asked her to. It was just how she was. Reliable. Grounded. That’s part of why she was so excited when Camp Havenbrook accepted her as a junior counselor. It felt like recognition. Like someone had finally said, Yes, you’re ready. You’re not a kid anymore. She could almost pretend she wasn’t nervous when she stepped off the shuttle that morning, duffel bag digging into her shoulder, the scent of pine trees and lakewater heavy in the summer air. Somewhere nearby, a group of returning campers were already shrieking with laughter. A few staff members in matching polos waved half-hearted greetings. The wooden cabins, still as crooked as they’d been years ago when she was a camper, lined the clearing like slouching old friends. Lena exhaled and squared her shoulders. “Lena Hargrove?” The voice was firm—not loud, but the kind that made people listen. Lena turned. The woman approaching her was dressed in starched khakis, a tucked-in polo, and hiking boots that somehow looked cleaner than any pair Lena had ever owned. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, and no smile. Her clipboard was clutched like a weapon. “Yes,” Lena said. “That’s me.” “I’m Miss Temple,” the woman replied. “Camp Director.” Lena nodded quickly. “It’s great to meet you. I’m really excited—” “We run a tight ship here,” Miss Temple interrupted. “This is a place for learning responsibility, not coddling bad habits.” “Oh, totally—” “There’s no room for sloppiness. No room for excuses. That includes personal hygiene, punctuality." "I agree," Lena said. "Have you read the handbook that was given to you?" asked Miss Temple. Lena nodded. "Any questions?" "Just the one. About nighttime accidents.” “Right,” Miss Temple repeated. “We house girls of all ages, from five-year-olds to sixteen-year-olds. They are not babies or toddlers, so wet beds are not tolerated here. At any age. When that happens, there are consequences.” "Diapers?" Lena asked, remembering what she read in the handbook. "Correct. Among other things," Miss Temple said. “I understand,” she said quietly. “Cabin 3C,” Miss Temple continued. “You’ll be overseeing girls ages twelve to fourteen. Your responsibilities include curfew enforcement, activity guidance, and behavior monitoring. Report to the lodge at 1600 for staff orientation.” Without waiting for a response, Miss Temple turned on her heel and walked off. Lena just stood there for a second, her grip tightening on her bag. She was eighteen. She was an adult now. She could handle this. By the time camp was over, she would have enough money to buy herself a second-hand car. That's all she needed to finally leave home and start her adult life. Still, she couldn’t help but think: Since when does a camp director talk about bedwetting like it’s a criminal offense? Cabin 3C was tucked at the edge of the woods, close enough to hear the lake lapping at the shore. It looked smaller than she remembered it, but maybe that was just perspective. She used to sleep in these bunks. Now she was here to supervise. Now she was here to be in charge of other girls, not much younger than herself. She took a deep breath and walked in. It was chaos inside. Suitcases exploded across the wooden floorboards. Someone was blasting music from a hidden speaker. Two girls were arguing over top bunk rights. The air smelled like bug spray and peach lip gloss. “Everyone!” Lena called out, trying to find her counselor voice. “Let’s quiet down, okay? I’m Lena. I’ll be your counselor this summer.” A few turned to look at her. One girl waved lazily. Another kept typing on her phone until a friend elbowed her. Then there was Madison. Lena recognized her right away. It was a bratty, popular girl who went to the same church Lena's parents visited every Sunday. The arched eyebrows, the glossy hair, the attitude that filled a room before she even spoke. She looked even older than Lena herself, with curves that belonged to a woman's body. “You’re the counselor?” Madison asked, arms folded. Lena smiled, ignoring the tone. “That’s right.” Madison tilted her head. “Do we know each other? "I don't think so," Lena lied. "You don’t look much older than us," Madison pressed. "It doesn't matter," Lena said. "I'm the one in charge." "Are you?" Madison glared at Lena with defiance. That somehow made Lena feel out of place. The rest of the day passed in a blur. There were name games, unpacking rules, a hike to the flagpole. Lena tried to lead with a balance of friendliness and firmness, but it was clear who the queen bee of the cabin was. Madison had her clique—Jordan and Kylie—and they followed her lead. Madison didn’t outright disobey. She just watched Lena as if she were amusing—a challenge. That night, after lights-out, Lena lay in her bottom bunk staring at the wooden slats above her. The air was sticky. A mosquito buzzed somewhere near her ear. From the other side of the cabin, someone whispered a joke, followed by a stifled giggle. Lena sighed and rolled over. She wanted to prove herself. To show she could handle a leadership role. That she wasn’t just another girl pretending to be grown up. That’s why she didn't say anything when she found the toothpaste smeared inside her sneakers the next morning. She just cleaned them and moved on. When someone swapped her bug spray for Silly String? She didn’t tattle. Just laughed it off. But her patience was starting to thin by the third prank—mild laxatives added to her breakfast smoothie, if she had to guess. Luckily, she made it to the bathroom. Still, she refused to lose her cool. That’s what they wanted, right? For her to snap. To prove she wasn’t fit for the job. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction. That night, she sat on her bunk and sipped her water carefully. The girls were already settling in. Someone asked if they could keep a nightlight on—Lena said yes. Another asked for an extra blanket. Madison just stared at her from her bed, an unreadable expression on her face. Lena gave her a polite nod, then turned to get ready for bed. What she didn’t notice—what she couldn’t know—was that her water bottle had been swapped. The liquid inside wasn’t water. Not entirely. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy Part II: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F1DFN2B9 or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Camille's Diapered Stepmother: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F7S44THM Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Long time lurker. This is the first story I've ever written. It's set in @bbykimmy’s Keeperverse. I haven’t seen a story set here in a while, so I thought I’d write my own. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s a world where people can randomly pair off in a biological bond of Keeper and human pet. The pet is legally owned by the Keeper and kept in diapers. Like an ABDL dynamic, but a publicly understood and accepted phenomenon. @bbykimmy's story Keeper's Pet got me to see how hot petplay can be, and Jeff’s Story by @justforfun solidified it for me. I definitely "borrowed" a lot from those 🙂. I tried my best not to contradict established lore. It’s a fun sandbox to explore. As a disclaimer, I’m not much of a writer. I’m not really concerned with things like story structure or pacing. This is just pure smutty fantasy for me. Also it’s not short. I like the little details of scenes like these. I have 40k words written so far. Hope you enjoy. *** Chapter 1- Undone I was clamoring through the halls of an office building on my way to a client meeting when it happened; the earth-shattering, mind-altering experience of the Bond. All it took was one shared look. A single moment of eye contact. You think you know who you are, and what your life is, and then in a split second everything you thought you knew is swallowed up by a single desire; be near her. Do anything you have to be hers and please her. Her eyes, her scent, her warmth, her entire aura become my world in an instant and eclipsed everything else I had ever experienced. We shared that look of shock, realization, horror, and most of all, deep affection, and that was it. The Bond. “Come here, pet” was all it took for her to say and I was a submissive puddle. My head buried itself down into her chest as her arms engulfed my body. I barely even noticed the tears in my eyes or the warmth spreading in my pants. Picture the safest you’ve ever felt. The most loved. The most you’ve ever felt like you belonged. And then multiply it by ten, twenty, by a thousand. It still wouldn’t come close to the Bond. But after you’re hit with the flood of animal endorphins, a flood of human anxiety mixes in. What about my life? My future? My freedom? What, I’m just a pet now? I can’t be just a fucking pet! Who even is this person? But a truth you feel in your bones fights those doubts; she’s my Keeper. We had slumped to the floor against the wall where she held me, softly shushing my whimpers and stroking my hair. “I’m here now. I’ve got you, pet. You’re safe,” she cooed, “I’m going to take care of you. You're mine.” Everything went fuzzy. I didn’t know if we were there minutes or hours before my brain turned back on. I opened my eyes and saw a few people staring at us out of a door down the hall. Seeing a Bond take hold wasn’t that uncommon, but like seeing a police scene, everybody always wanted to gawk. I felt half-dried tears on my face as I pried my head out of her chest to look up to her anxiously. My eyes met hers. Her eyes. Oh my god, her eyes. Like two pools of forever telling me everything was going to be okay. “Well hey there.” She spoke so gently, warmly inviting me into her presence. “That’s one way to meet someone.” We shared a small laugh through the awkward confusion of what had just happened. “Hi,” I said meekly, words escaping me. “Hello, Oliver. My pet,” she said, as if confirming it for herself. “You— you know my name?” She held up my wallet. Duh. “You were pretty out of it. I guess I just had to know who I was holding in my arms.” “Oh.” “I’m Annie.” Annie. Like a tidal wave her name washed over me and solidified her identity as my Keeper into the deepest parts of psyche. My world’s name was Annie. She had wavy, auburn hair that fell just beneath her shoulders. She was a little shorter than me and somewhere around the same age best I could tell; 30-ish. Her impossibly brown eyes smothered me like a comfy weighted blanket. And she smelled incredible. I’d never smelled anything like it before. I now felt my wet pants, soaked with my own urine, which had cooled. My face burned with embarrassment and shame. I was just lucky my bowels didn’t let loose too. The Bond made pets varying degrees of incontinent and I had heard of it happening. “What does this mean?” I asked. “It means we’ve found each other. I’m your Keeper, and you’re my pet. The rest is just…details, that we’ll figure out. But we’ll be together." Warm contentment rippled through me upon hearing her words. My Keeper. “You alright, Annie?” a male voice called down the hall. I couldn’t bring myself to tear my gaze away from Annie to see who was intruding on our embrace, but I hated him for it. “Yeah, I’m good, Mark,” she called back. “Just a bit of an unexpected situation, here.” She laughed a bit. “Could you do me a big favor? Go get Kaitlin and tell her I need a ride?” “Of course!” And I heard a door close. “I have my car here,” I blurted out, without thinking. She laughed, like the way you would at a child who has said something amusing. “So do I, sweetie. But now that I’ve found you, I just don’t think I can let you go. It’s easier if someone drives us.” I felt stupid. Of course we wouldn’t be taking my car. It just stopped being my car at all, didn’t it? I thought. Pets can’t drive. I then noticed the familiar weight of my keys and phone was missing from my pockets.Where does she want to take me anyways? My breathing quickened as another sense of realization over my situation was setting in. She probably didn’t want to let go of me because she didn’t want to risk me running. A twinge of panic. My body tensed and adrenaline flooded. I have to get my life back before it's too late. Maybe the Bond hasn’t set in fully. I tried to shift my weight to get my legs under me in order to make a break for it. “Shh, shh. No.” She gripped my limbs tighter. “You’re okay. Look at me...Look at me, pet.” Despite the fear, something deep inside me compelled me to obey her. “You’re safe here with me.” My breathing slowly steadied as she pet my hair and brought me further into her arms. “Good boy.” Those last two words. They hit me like a ton of bricks. My focus blurred like a shot of heavy pain medication just entered my bloodstream. It felt wonderful. I only heard Annie’s half of a conversation that somehow felt far away as someone else approached us. “Yeah, that would be awesome… There’s one a few miles from here…Yes…Thank you so much, Kaitlin, seriously. Yeah, I—I just don’t want to let him go; he’s still shaking…Okay…Yeah, thank you! We’ll be out there in a minute.” She turned back to me. “Okay, honey, do you think you can walk with me?” “Where are we going?” I asked anxiously. “There’s a pet store close by where we can figure all this out.” Another wave of adrenaline. “No, I don’t wa—” “—Yes,” she interjected firmly and decisively, like it wasn’t up for debate. “Be a good boy for me, okay?” I wanted to. I wanted to more than anything. Against all rationality I wanted to earn her praise, even if it mean going against my own interests. She helped me to my feet, keeping me close to her with a firm grip of my hand in hers. She pulled my head into her shoulder as we snaked through the winding hallway of the business complex, with a few pairs of curious eyes on us. I was now acutely aware of my soaked jeans. Annie led me towards the entryway and out to a car waiting outside, where she carted us both into the backseat. She was clearly aware of my panted breathes because she quickly pulled me back into her chest. The ride was a blur. Annie kept cooing soft reassurances to calm me, only breaking to tell Kaitlin where to go. I felt uncomfortably warm and was already starting to sweat. Soon we were at a human pet superstore, the kind I would previously pay no mind to as I drove past. There was a side entryway to an intake area for newly bonded pets. As we got out and approached the entrance I reflexively jerked away from Annie, who kept a firm grip on my hand. “No, Oliver. Stay with me,” she ordered firmly, but with affection in her voice. Every instinct in me was telling me to run, to salvage my freedom. Every instinct but one; stay near Annie. That one was stronger than all rest. In through the doors we were quickly greeted by a uniformed employee behind a desk. “Hi there!” she chirped. She approached slowly and spoke softly, no doubt for my benefit. “I’m Jenny. Looks like we have a new Keeper and pet?” I’m sure it was painfully obvious who was who in that equation. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact and just held Annie’s hand tighter. “Yes, I’m Annie, and this is Oliver.” “Hi, Oliver,” she said, her voice dripping in condescension, like she was talking to a child. I didn’t look up. “Let’s get you guys into a transition room and I can walk you through what happens now. Follow me.” I looked over my shoulder at the automatic sliding doors. One last chance at freedom. I almost got my muscles to obey my desire to run before Annie firmly tugged my arm and I felt helpless to break away from her. Jenny led us into a room and quickly shut the door behind, locking it. It was like a normal medical room, except there were two exam tables, one of which that had a cage mounted atop it. Not to mention the human pet paraphernalia on the shelves. Seeing the cage, I instinctively began to whimper despite myself. Annie turned me to her and brought her hand to face. “It’s okay. You’re okay, pet.” If she said it was true then it must be, because she was my Keeper. “Alright,” Jenny began, “I know there are a lot of emotions and confusion happening right now, but I’m going to walk you through each step. First things first, we should get him cleaned up. His body is shifting rapidly, and his rising body temperature and continence are the quickest to change. This clothing just isn’t suitable for him. Let’s undress him.” “Right,” Annie replied. She reached the top button of my shirt and brought my hands up to block her. I whined, “No! Please, I—” “—Oliver,” She grabbed my hands, “If you can remain calm, I promise I won’t put you in the cage while we get you ready, but I need you to behave and listen, okay?” She said she needed me to. That was all I had to hear and my overwhelming desire to please her did the rest. “Okay?” she asked again, more sternly. I nodded meekly. “Good boy.” Another rush of endorphins. “Nice job, Annie,” Jenny said, impressed. “I suggest we get him on the table before undressing.” “Good idea,” Annie affirmed. “Okay, pet, I need you climb up and lay back for me, okay?” I didn’t take my eyes off her as she and Jenny helped me up onto the exam table and laid me back. “Good, keep reassuring him. Keep him looking at you.” “Look at me, sweetie. Keep your eyes on me. Good.” It didn’t matter that I could hear Jenny coaching her on the tactics, I still didn’t stand a chance against them. My newly developing pet brain overrode my critical thinking and I was mush. Annie held my gaze as I felt my arms being brought up over my head and my wrists were secured into soft leather cuffs. Next my shoes and socks were removed and my ankles went into similar restraints. Seeing Jenny hand Annie some medical sheers, I pulled on the restraints and whimpered. “Keep talking him through what you’re doing. It’s important that he trusts you. It might feel like you’ve known each other forever, but your is Bond is brand new. Undefined. He needs to know your intention.” “I’m going to get your clothes off now so that you can be so much more comfortable,” she told me. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m never going to hurt you.” As she began cutting through the sleeves of my shirt I wanted to scream but her command for me to stay calm enveloped the front of my mind. My shirt was pulled away from beneath my body. Jenny joined her in cutting through my wet jeans, pulling them away next. The cool air was nice on my skin, but I felt so much more exposed. She brought her hand up to stroke my cheek again. “Good job, sweetie. You’re doing so well for me.” My eyes closed as I melted into her words and worked my face into her hand, trying to inhale her wonderful scent to quell my anxiety. “You’re a natural, Annie,” Jenny mused. “Do you have pet experience?” “I lived with a pet for a few years. My roommate’s. I was there when she first brought her home. I remember those first days pretty well.” Well at least my Keeper had a resume. “Great! So I’m sure you know what happens next.” No. Even I knew what Jenny was getting at. “No, please!” I cried, “Please, Annie, don’t make me wear a diaper!” I tried to sit up and plead with her but the cuffs held me down. Annie was quickly at my side calming me down. “This is why we use restraints.” Jenny spoke with a practiced authority. “He’s quickly becoming prone to acting on instinct and heightened emotions. He wants to behave, I’m sure, but he’s scared and his rational decision-making skills are already diminishing.” Pets wore diapers. I knew this. Everyone knew this. As much as you knew to stop at red lights. But to fully absorb that it was about to happen to you was mortifying. “At this point, I think it’s best we use this to help keep him calm,” Jenny said as she handed Annie something. It was a rubbery bulb mounted to a leather face attachment with a thinner strap. A muzzle, with a gag attached. “No, I’ll be quiet, I swear!” I tried to plead pathetically as Annie brought the gag towards my head. “Open for me, pet. Let’s get this on. That’s it. Good boy. My good boy.” I was putty in her hands as she inserted the gag and strapped the muzzle around my head. The bulky structure cupped my jaw and wrapped around my lower face. I tested the gag and was barely audible. The silicon teat in my mouth felt weird. My soaked underwear was cut off, leaving me naked and covered in my own piss in front of Annie, this stranger who I felt more affection for than I even knew possible. It was beyond humiliating as she used baby wipes to thoroughly clean my crotch. I expected disgust or pity from her as she cleaned my urine soaked skin, but instead her look betrayed something else. Is that…lust? I asked myself. She bit her lip as she handled my penis and balls to clean them. The attention from her quickly translated to a growing erection. Her gaze was transfixed to my crotch. I tried to move my hips into her as she brought down another wipe. I didn’t care who else was there, I wanted her touch. I needed more of her touch. “As you can see, and I’m sure feel,” Jenny started, and Annie's attention snapped back, “the sexual connection brought on by the Bond is strong. And he’s all instinct right now. But I'm sure I don't have to tell you pet parenthood is illegal, so pets in intersex Bonds are required by law to be neutered. Frankly, in the long run you’re just not always going to have the restraint to practice safe sex. You’re just as drawn to him as he is to you. So sterilizing him is the best option.” I whimpered hearing this. Jenny giggled at my erection dissipating. “That kind of talk usually works to get male pets under control down there. How else would we get them in their first diapers?” I groaned into the gag as loudly as I could and pulled at the restraints to convey my protest. It was ignored as Jenny handed Annie a bulky, pastel blue disposable diaper. Pet diapers were much thicker than medical incontinence diapers for human adults. “Also, it’s fine for a diaper or two, but you’re going to want to remove the hair in his diaper area for hygiene purposes. He’ll shed some of his body hair naturally as his body continues to shift, but not all of it. We have some cream I’ll send you home with.” “Thank you.” Again, I tried to make my disapproval known but was quickly learning it was getting me nowhere. Annie fluffed out the diaper before bringing it down to me. “I can see you’ve done this before,” Jenny said to her, “Repetition is always good, especially when training. Using touch on the inner thigh and phrases like ‘butt up’ is good for getting him used to diaper changes.” I hated being talked about like I wasn’t in the room, like I was a baby. Yet I was hopelessly unable to resist when Annie tapped my inner thigh and ordered, “Butt up, Oliver.” “Down.” She pressed on my hips and my bottom landed on the considerable padding. “Baby powder is a must. You won’t always be there to change him immediately and nobody wants to deal with a rash.” “Good job,” Annie cooed to me, “Good boy being still for me.” Her praise lit up my brain. She sprinkled baby powder over my crotch. The diaper was pulled up over me and Jenny walked Annie through pulling on the tapes snugly. I instantly felt an odd sense of claustrophobia around my groin as it was sealed off. It was warm and bulky and for some reason I actually I preferred the sensation of being naked. Not to mention the sheer humiliation of being diapered like a toddler. Jenny checked the fit of the diaper and settled the leak guards into place. “Since we don’t know what level of incontinence new pet will have, store policy requires him to also be put in a diaper cover of some sort.” Jenny held up a cloth garment with plastic lining inside and snaps, sort of like another diaper. “Obviously, it’s ultimately up to you to decide what level of protection he needs, be it plastic pants, cloth diaper cover, etc.” Annie quickly repeated, “Butt up,” and laid out the diaper cover before snapping it on, making my crotch even bulkier. “Next, let’s get his other restraints on, starting with pet mitts.” I whined all over again and tugged at my bonds as Jenny took out the black leather pet paws. “Right now, he’s most likely stronger than you, no offense. That will probably change soon as his bones lose density and muscles lose mass, but for these first few weeks or so, you need to make sure he’s well restrained. Your voice’s authority as his Keeper is one of your best tools in this regard. For Female/male Bonds, training and using hypnotic triggers is more crucial than ever because you might not always be able to restrain him with just your physical strength.” Annie looked down on me squirming with the same sensuous look. “Keep him calm, Annie,” Jenny gently guided, “Take his arm, let him know what you’re doing.” “Shh, pet. Stay still for me. You’re going to be a good boy while I put your mitts on.” The warm smile conveying her command melted me as she unfastened the cuff and took my wrist. “These are to keep you safe. When you’re wearing them you'll know I am taking care of you.” “Very good!” Jenny complemented her as she inserted my hand into the mitt. My hand was slid into a comfortable position around a soft pad, but held tightly so I could barely bend my fingers. My hand would be completely useless. The mitt’s shape vaguely resembled a paw, with traction pads on the palm. There was a D-ring on the wrist that could be clipped. Once my hand was inside and tightened at the wrist, the mitt zipped halfway up my forearm and was fastened. My wrist was re-cuffed to the table. Annie talked me through the same thing on my other hand. My best chance at freeing myself and escaping my pethood was just taken away. “You should keep these on him at all times, other than baths, for the first few weeks, if not months. Some people use them permanently with their pets. Until he’s trained not to take off his diapers or open doors and latches he shouldn’t, his instincts will get the better of him. Now let’s do his legs.” They slipped a similar pet paw on my foot, and then a leg harness that came up to a soft pad fitted around my knee and a strap around my thigh. “Everything we’re using here comes free in the standard-issued pet kit for new Keepers, but they’re pretty cheap. You’ll probably want to upgrade to something else based on both your needs. You’ll have chance here a little later before taking him home if you like.” “Got it. Yeah, I’d like to get him something more comfortable,” said Annie. “There are different ways to keep a pet down on all fours. The most common is clipping a short strap from the thigh to the calf to keep the knees a little bent,” Jenny explained. “And there are different schools of thought on letting pets walk upright or be kept down. I do recommend new pets be kept down for a while, but, of course, that’s up to you as his Keeper.” I knew that many pets were kept on all fours all the time. No one even bats an eye seeing a half naked pet being walked on a leash, down on all fours in a diaper and restraints. It was totally mundane. Is Annie really not going to let me walk? Another wave of human clarity washed over me. Nothing was going to be my choice anymore. I was going lose everything. My entire life. For some unknown future with this near-stranger. Despair overwhelmed me and tears formed in my eyes. I wasn’t even struggling, I just laid there forlorn. Annie saw this and had a look of deep sympathy and concern. “That’s all for restraints, right?" She asked, with some urgency, without taking her eyes off me. “Yep! We can move on to registration now.” “So we can let him up for that,” Annie said, not really asking. “Well, we prefer to—” “—I want to let him up,” Annie interjected assertively and was already going to my ankle cuffs and undoing them. “Just for now.” “Okay, usually we do some bonding time after registering but I can see you need some time now. We’ll take a break.” Annie uncuffed my wrists and once free I immediately scrambled off the table into her arms, almost knocking her over. She brought me to the floor in her lap. My face was back in her chest and I began to full-on weep. Being enveloped in her touch and smell went a long way to comfort me, but I still felt the crushing weight of my lost life, and my lost future. And I sobbed. “Oh, my pet. It’s okay. Shh. I’ve got you,” she cooed, “I’m so glad I found you. You’re mine now. I promise I’m going to take care of you. My sweet boy. You’re never going to be alone. Shh. I’ve got you now.” I felt a warmness radiate through my body; a great comfort combating the anxiety and despair. Then I felt a physical warmness pooling around my crotch and I knew I was wetting the diaper; my diaper. Everything became a blur.

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Chapter One A Shameful Issue Claire Reynolds fumbled with her keys, her hands trembling as she tried to fit the right one into the lock. The sharp clink of metal echoed through the dim hallway, mocking her urgency. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a bead of sweat trickled down her temple despite the cool air. “Come on,” she hissed under her breath, bouncing slightly on her heels. When the key finally slid into place, she shoved the door open and bolted inside, her purse slipping from her shoulder and landing in a heap on the floor. She didn’t stop to pick it up. The bathroom door was just a few steps away, but those few steps felt impossibly long. Her hand gripped the doorknob when it happened. The warm, mortifying sensation began at her thighs and cascaded downward, soaking her gray slacks and forming a humiliating puddle at her feet. Claire froze, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared at the dark stain spreading down her legs. “No,” she whispered, the word catching like a sob in her chest. For a moment, she stood rooted to the spot, the scene unfolding beneath her as though it were happening to someone else. But the sharp smell of urine quickly snapped her back to reality. This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Shame washed over her, making her stomach churn. This was the third time this week. Claire leaned against the bathroom door, covering her face with her hands. The knot of anxiety in her chest tightened, and her thoughts spun wildly. What was happening to her? She’d already been to the doctor—no infections, no physical problems, nothing that explained why this kept happening. “Stress,” the doctor had said, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Sometimes your body reacts in unexpected ways. Try to take it easy for a while.” Take it easy? As if Claire Reynolds, Vice President of Marketing at Goldstein & Gray, had time to "take it easy." She had built her entire career by thriving under pressure, outmaneuvering competitors, and crushing challenges. Yet now, standing in a puddle of her own making, she felt utterly powerless. Claire peeled off her wet slacks and underwear, tossing them angrily into the laundry hamper before stepping into the shower. She turned the water as hot as she could stand, hoping the scalding heat might burn away the humiliation clinging to her skin. The bathroom filled with steam, but the knot in her chest remained. Wrapped in a robe, Claire sat on her couch with a glass of wine in her hand. The faint glow of the TV illuminated her face, though her eyes remained unfocused. The news anchor’s voice droned in the background, but she wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment she lost control over and over. Three times in a week. Three times. Maybe it really was stress, she thought, staring into her empty glass. Work had been relentless lately, and the weight of it all was starting to show. Claire barely had time to breathe between managing her team, placating demanding clients, and watching Samantha Drake inch closer to her throne. Samantha. The name alone made her skin prickle. She could see Samantha’s smiling face now, framed by perfectly styled blonde hair, her bright blue eyes practically sparkling with confidence. Samantha was talented, ambitious, and far too likable for Claire’s comfort. People flocked to her naturally, eager to bask in her glow. And Claire? She was the one standing outside her bathroom, soaked to the skin and trying to hold on to her dignity. Her jaw tightened as she set the empty wine glass on the table. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t some fragile mess who couldn’t keep herself together. She was the second most powerful person in the company, and Samantha was nothing but another subordinate. She just needed rest. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. But deep down, Claire wasn’t so sure. She walked into the office the next morning with a practiced smile that felt like it might crack under the strain. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, echoing through the sleek lobby of Goldstein & Gray. She moved quickly, her steps purposeful, as though the sound alone could drown out her unease. You’ve got this, she told herself. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, haunted by the humiliating memory of her accident. Now, as she reached her desk, she fought to bury the thought and focus on what mattered: work. Her assistant, Melissa, greeted her with a stack of files and a fresh coffee. “Morning, Ms. Reynolds. Here’s the prep for the Ross presentation at ten.” “Thank you,” Claire said curtly, taking the files without breaking stride. She slipped into her office and closed the door behind her, exhaling slowly. For the next hour, Claire buried herself in spreadsheets and client notes, trying to lose herself in the comforting predictability of data. It almost worked—until there was a knock at her door. “Come in,” she called, not looking up. The door opened, and Claire’s stomach sank when she heard the familiar, cheerful voice. “Good morning, Claire. Got a minute?” Samantha Drake. Claire glanced up, masking her irritation with a tight smile. Samantha stood in the doorway, her tailored navy dress accentuating her polished appearance. She looked every bit the up-and-coming star Claire begrudgingly acknowledged she was. “What can I do for you, Samantha?” Claire asked, keeping her tone neutral. Samantha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve seemed… tense lately.” Claire’s smile faltered. “Tense? I’m fine.” Samantha tilted her head, her expression sympathetic in a way that made Claire’s teeth clench. “I know how demanding this job can be. And, well…” She hesitated, feigning concern. “There have been a few murmurs around the office. About you seeming, I don’t know, a little distracted?” “Murmurs?” Claire’s voice sharpened, but Samantha’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. “Nothing major,” Samantha said quickly, holding up her hands. “It’s just that people look up to you, Claire. You’ve set the bar so high, and I think they’re worried about you burning out.” Claire forced a laugh, though it came out brittle. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly capable of handling my workload.” Samantha nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Of course you are. You’ve always been an inspiration to me.” The words sounded genuine, but Claire couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that there was an edge beneath them. Before Claire could respond, Samantha added, “If you ever need support, though—someone to help lighten the load—I know an excellent assistant who could make things easier for you.” Claire stiffened. “I don’t need help.” “Of course not,” Samantha said smoothly. “But if you change your mind, let me know. It’s important to take care of yourself.” With that, Samantha offered a polite smile and left, leaving Claire alone in her office, simmering. The morning passed in a blur of emails and conference calls, but Samantha’s words lingered like an unwelcome guest. By the time the Ross presentation rolled around, Claire was on edge, her mind racing with a cocktail of frustration and self-doubt. She entered the boardroom, her posture as sharp as ever, and launched into the presentation with the confidence that had made her reputation. But halfway through, as she stood before the team, a sudden wave of pressure in her bladder made her pause. Not now, she thought, gripping the edge of the table. She forced herself to keep going, her voice steady even as her body betrayed her. With every passing second, the pressure grew, and by the time she wrapped up the presentation, she could barely focus on the questions. The moment it ended, she bolted from the room, ignoring the curious glances from her colleagues. She made it to the bathroom just in time, slamming the stall door shut and collapsing onto the toilet. Relief flooded through her, but it was short-lived. The near miss left her shaking, her mind spinning with worst-case scenarios. What if she hadn’t made it? What if she had humiliated herself in front of the entire team? Claire sat there for a long moment, her breathing uneven. This couldn’t keep happening. Back at her desk, Claire stared at her computer screen, her thoughts far from work. The memory of Samantha’s offer gnawed at her. As much as she hated to admit it, the idea of having help—even temporary—sounded less ridiculous than it had that morning. But no. She wouldn’t give Samantha the satisfaction. Still, Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that her grip on control was slipping, one agonizing inch at a time. Chapter Two Enter Linda By the time Claire got home that evening, she was exhausted. The day had been grueling, and the close call during the presentation lingered in her mind like a bad dream. She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, poured herself a glass of wine, and sank into the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. This couldn’t go on. The memory of Samantha’s offer crept back into her thoughts. Claire clenched her jaw. Asking for help from someone Samantha recommended felt like admitting defeat, but she couldn’t keep living with the constant fear of humiliation. Before she could overthink it, she pulled out her phone and dialed Samantha’s number. “Samantha Drake,” came the cheerful voice on the other end. “It’s Claire,” she said, her tone clipped. “About that assistant you mentioned. Do you have their contact information?” Samantha’s response came almost too quickly. “Of course! Her name is Linda. She’s young, but she’s a natural at organization and discretion. I’ll text you her number.” “Thanks,” Claire said tersely and hung up before Samantha could gloat. The next day, Linda promptly arrived at Claire’s apartment at 9 a.m. Claire opened the door to find a young woman with auburn hair tied in a neat ponytail, bright hazel eyes, and a sunny smile that seemed almost too earnest. Claire thought with a twinge of skepticism that she couldn’t have been older than nineteen. “Hi, Ms. Reynolds! I’m Linda. It’s such an honor to meet you,” she chirped, extending a hand. Claire hesitated before shaking it. “You’re… younger than I expected,” she said bluntly. Linda didn’t miss a beat. “People say that all the time. But I promise, I’m great at what I do. I’ve worked with other executives before, and I’m here to make your life easier.” Claire stepped aside, motioning for Linda to come in. The girl walked in with an eager bounce, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Claire watched her carefully, trying to gauge whether this was a good idea. “So,” Claire said, folding her arms. “Tell me what you can do.” Linda enthusiastically listed her skills: scheduling, task management, meal prepping, and errand running. She even mentioned a knack for helping with “personal matters,” though Claire dismissed that with a wave. After twenty minutes, Claire sighed. Although Linda was extremely young, on paper, she was a perfect solution to her stress. “Fine. Let’s try this out. I’ll give you a week to prove yourself. If I don’t see results, that’s it. Understood?” Linda beamed. “You won’t regret it, Ms. Reynolds!” The first few days were surprisingly smooth. Linda was efficient and unflinchingly polite, handling Claire’s demanding schedule with ease. She organized Claire’s cluttered desk, prepared meals that were waiting when Claire got home, and even started leaving subtle reminders for things Claire might have forgotten. On Linda’s fourth day, she was tidying up Claire’s kitchen when Claire rushed through the door, pale and frazzled. “Out of the way,” Claire muttered, bolting toward the bathroom. Linda watched in surprise as Claire slammed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire emerged, her face flushed. She was clutching a damp skirt and muttering under her breath. “Everything okay?” Linda asked cautiously. “It’s all fine,” Claire snapped, avoiding Linda’s gaze. Linda didn’t push, but Claire caught the flicker of understanding in her assistant’s eyes. Two nights later, Claire woke up in her wet pajamas. The dark stain on her sheets sent a wave of panic and frustration crashing over her. She began stripping the bed, her hands trembling as she stuffed the soiled sheets into the hamper. She didn’t hear the knock at first. “Ms. Reynolds?” Linda’s voice broke through, hesitant but concerned. Claire froze. Before she could respond, the door creaked open. Linda stepped inside, her eyes widening at the scene: Claire standing in the middle of the room, tear-streaked and clutching damp sheets, her wet pajama bottoms an unmistakable clue. “Oh,” Linda said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Claire turned away, her face burning with humiliation. “Just go,” she said sharply. Instead of leaving, Linda stepped closer. “Ms. Reynolds,” she said gently, “it’s okay. Let me help.” “No, it’s not okay!” Claire’s voice cracked. “This isn’t normal! I’m almost a middle-aged woman, I shouldn’t be wetting myself.” Linda stayed calm, her tone soothing. “Stress can do strange things to the body. You’re dealing with so much right now. It’s not your fault.” Claire sank onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. Linda knelt beside her. “Why don’t you change into something dry? I’ll take care of this.” Too exhausted to argue, Claire nodded. The final straw came two days later. Claire had stayed late at work, trying to finish a report, when the now-familiar pressure hit her. She’d been so focused she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. How could this be happening to her? She was a strong, independent woman with a successful career and a bright future. She wasn’t supposed to wet herself like some oversized toddler who wasn’t potty trained yet. In desperation, she rushed back home. When she got to her apartment, she ran past Linda, although her pants were visibly damp. Linda saw it immediately, but said nothing, quietly following Claire. Linda approached her. “Ms. Reynolds, I think we need to talk.” Claire stiffened. “About what?” Linda hesitated. “I noticed… things have been getting harder for you lately. Maybe it’s time to consider something to help.” Claire’s eyes narrowed, though in her current state, she looked more like a little girl pretending to be an adult than the girl-boss she truly was. “Help? Like what?” Linda’s voice was gentle but firm. “Protective undergarments. Just at night or for when you’re working late. It could give you peace of mind.” Claire stared at her, the words hitting her like a blow. “You’re suggesting diapers.” “I’m suggesting something to make your life easier,” Linda said softly. “There’s no shame in it.” Claire shook her head, her pride flaring. “Absolutely not.” “Claire,” Linda said, dropping the formalities, her tone softening but not wavering. “You’ve had three accidents that I know of this week. The one on the way home from work tonight, the one in bed two nights ago, and the one outside the bathroom earlier this week. And this isn’t something new. Is it?” Claire blushed, not knowing how to answer. “Have you gone to the doctor?” Claire nodded, though all her strength had wavered, replaced by a feeling of impotence and shame. “So, what happened?” “The doctor thinks it is just stress. But I’ve always had stress, and it had never led to something like this,” Claire replied, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m not wearing diapers!” Linda didn’t flinch. “You hired me to make your life easier, didn’t you? That’s all I’m trying to do.” Claire shook her head, her voice trembling with fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not some invalid, Linda. I don’t need diapers!” “It doesn’t look like it. Does it?” “I’ll fix it,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “I’ll go back to the doctor. I’ll drink less coffee. I’ll… I’ll figure it out.” “It’s your decision,” Linda continued, “But just think about this…If it happens at work, what do you think will happen? You have a reputation as a strong and powerful woman. Do you think your employees will respect you after they see you standing in your wet trousers and crying like a baby?” Claire didn’t respond. It killed her knowing that Linda was right. If she ignored the problem, it could only lead to public humiliation. But diapers? She wasn’t a baby. She was an adult woman with so many responsibilities. An image of her wearing a diaper as Linda took care of everything came flooding her mind. It made Claire blush as she shook that thought away. “Just think about it,” Linda added. She turned away, leaving Claire alone in her wet pants. That night, Claire lay in bed, her mind racing. She replayed Linda’s words over and over, each one striking a nerve. The worst part was that Linda was right. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Hi guys! Here's my newest story. Hope you like it. If you want to read my entire catalog of role reversals, regressed mothers, diapered cuckolds, and more, check out my new Subscribestar account: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter Chapter One Camille's Plan Camille never imagined she’d have to share her father with someone young enough to be her little sister. Yet there Anya was — radiant in her pastel pink sundress, lips glossed, curls bouncing as she hummed in the kitchen. Camille watched from the dining room with a clenched jaw, her manicured fingers curled tightly around the stem of her wine glass. Anya always made everything look effortless. That morning, she'd prepared a French-style breakfast — flaky croissants, poached eggs, and delicate little fruit tarts. It was the kind of thing Camille’s mother used to make before she passed away five years ago. Anya didn’t know that, of course. Or maybe she did. Robert, Camille’s father, sat at the head of the table, reading the newspaper's financial section like it was the gospel. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, his suit immaculate despite it being a Sunday. He glanced over his reading glasses at Camille, then at Anya, who was setting down a plate with practiced elegance. Camille wasn’t a morning person, but made it a point to arrive for breakfast whenever her father was in town. It wasn’t about the food — Anya’s Pinterest-perfect meals were always too sweet, too curated. It was about presence. She needed her father to see that she was still the one who held the household together. Or used to. Robert folded his napkin and set it beside his untouched croissant. “I’ll be flying out tomorrow. Singapore again. This one might be a long haul — eight weeks, maybe more.” Camille, in the middle of stirring cream into her coffee, paused. “Eight weeks?” He nodded. “The acquisition’s messier than I expected.” She blinked. “And you’re just telling us now?” Robert raised a brow. “It’s not a vacation, Camille. It’s work. You’ll manage just fine, like always.” Camille leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “So I assume I’ll be keeping things in order while you’re gone.” Robert took a sip from his espresso. “Actually, no. Anya will be in charge this time.” The air shifted. Camille stared at her father like he’d grown a second head. “You’re joking.” Anya, seated quietly with a peach in hand, looked up in surprise. Robert continued, calm and final. “I figured it was time we gave her a chance. After all, this is also her home now.” “A chance?” Camille echoed. “She doesn’t even work, Dad. She spends her days rearranging throw pillows and naming the squirrels in the backyard.” Anya blushed but said nothing. Robert’s tone cooled. “She’s my wife, Camille. And she’s more than capable.” Camille laughed, a brittle sound. “She’s twenty-two.” “And?” “She’s a child. You’re handing the house over to a child.” Anya’s eyes flicked down to her plate. She probably tried to say something, but Robert’s voice replied, “That’s enough.” Camille ignored him. “You don’t see it, but everyone else does. The maid, the driver, hell, even the neighbor’s kids probably know—” “I said that’s enough!” Robert stood from the table, his chair scraping sharply against the tile “You will not speak to my wife like that.” “She’s not your wife, she’s your—” “Camille.” His voice dropped an octave “Apologize. Right now.” Camille scoffed, incredulous. “You’re taking her side?” “I’m not picking sides. I’m reminding you how to behave like an adult.” “Robert,” Anya said, “It’s not necessary.” “I believe it is, darling,” Robert didn’t take his eyes off his daughter. “We are waiting, Camille.” She pushed back her chair, heat rising in her chest. “Unbelievable.” “Apologize. Now!” Camille looked at Anya. Her wide hazel eyes, dewy with embarrassment. The soft baby-pink headband she wore. She looked like a child playing dress-up. And she was supposed to be in charge? Camille’s jaw clenched. Her father waited. “I’m sorry,” she said, forcing each word out like venom. “If she’s my wife and you call me Daddy…what do you think you should address Anya from now on?” Anya’s face turned crimson. Camille looked at Anya. Her wide hazel eyes were dewy with embarrassment, and her soft baby-pink headband made her look like a child playing dress-up. She then glared at her father. “I’m waiting, Camille.” The older of the two women sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry,” she paused, “Mommy.” Robert sat back down. “There. That wasn’t so hard.” Camille didn’t respond. She walked away, heels clicking sharply down the hall. Not a single look back. Her bedroom door slammed shut behind her. Camille paced, fingers twitching, adrenaline still surging in her blood. Put Anya in charge? Of the estate that is supposed to be hers? Of the staff who answered to her for over a decade? Her father might as well have handed over the deed to a toddler. That’s when it hit her. She knew Anya couldn’t do anything but play and watch videos on her phone. It was her generation, after all. All of them were spoiled kids, and if her Daddy couldn’t see it, Camille would make sure everyone else did. Camille smiled, the kind that never reached her eyes. She had two months to turn her perfect stepmother into a babbling toddler. That would teach everyone. Two months of changing diapers, preparing bottles, and selecting cute outfits. Let’s do it, she told herself.

The child was just like any normal 9 year old child, he was in 4th grade in which she loved to read and is very good at long division. He likes school and seeing her friends but likes the weekends at home too where she doesn't usually have homework. His/her favorite color is pastel green. He/she loves watching Netflix and has a secret love for watching tv show for very little children even if they are "baby shows". He/she's currently working on reading an old book his mommy gave her called "harry potter" but still gets caught up on some big words. He/She also has a bit of an entitlement issue with being seen as a big boy since he's only about as big as the first and second graders and only just stopped sucking his thumb at night a few weeks ago. (Our RP starts as the little boy is doing his homework in the living room with train playing on the TV, the door bell rings his mommy answers the door to see the babysitter she had called for the night. This babysitter was different though and has promised to get her little boy to relax and enjoy being a "little" kid more.... I will play the adult characters. If you want play with me you can contact me privately)

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

Hi ! This is my first story here, i hope you'll like it. I've been reading ABDL stories here for a while now and i've always liked creating stories, so i thought i should make my own one. I'm not a writter, and i'm pretty sure my writing style is pretty bad (+ my native language is not english). But, who cares, i mean i enjoy writing this, i guess that's the most important, and i hope you'll enjoy reading it Feel free to give your opinion ! ----------------------------------- Kelia's New Childhood Kelia felt terrible. She had just had another argument with her mother. Her relationship with her mother had been deteriorating for months, ever since she turned 18 in fact. Her mother has always been rather restrictive, which has always upset her, as Kelia has always had a rather rebellious and independent nature since she was a teenager. But the fact that this hadn't changed since she turned 18 annoyed her even more. She was an adult now, yet she felt that her mother still treated her like a child. She wasn't allowed to go out as she pleased, rarely allowed to invite friends over or sleep over. Kelia took a deep breath. If her mother had taught her anything, it was how to deal with emotions. It was already late, but she wasn't tired, so she plunged into her sketchbooks, until she finally fell asleep on her desk. The next morning, Kelia awoke to the sound of her bedroom door opening softly. Her mother appeared in the doorframe. "Can I come in?" Her mother asked in a soft voice. Kelia nodded, yawning. Her mother entered, closing the door behind her. She sat down on the bed and beckoned Kelia to come and sit beside her. Kelia was apprehensive about the discussion that was about to take place. When her mother looked so soft and solemn, especially soon after an argument, it often meant that she was about to make an important decision. Kelia came and sat down next to her mother, who remained silent for a moment, seemingly searching for words. "Kelia, these last few months have been complicated for both of us, with a lot of tension." began her mother. "Last night I called Mickaela, my friend who works in psychiatry who I told you about the other day. I explained our problems to her, and she suggested a solution. It's a special program based on a new technology that consists of... regress a person in order to soften their behavior, or relieve them of pressure." Kelia wasn't sure she understood, but it didn't sound like good news. Her mother resumed: "I signed you up for this program. All you have to do is sign a few papers. Then, the doctors will use a machine to make you smaller. The program is supposed to last 1 year." Kelia, confused, practically cut her mother off. "Wait, I don't understand, what do you mean by regress? What do you mean shrink me? I don't know what you're talking about." Her mother cleared her throat and spoke again. "Well, this program consists of making you relive your early childhood, and everything that goes with it. Basically, you'll become a baby again for the space of a year." Kelia almost let out a nervous laugh, so surreal was what she'd just heard. She knew her mother could sometimes go too far when it came to punishment, or Kelia's behavior in general, but this was beyond anything she could have imagined. She seriously considered for a few moments that her mother might be playing a joke on her. Did such "technology" even really exist? And how far would her regression go? Kelia tried to organize her thoughts and answered her mother. "What if I refuse and don't sign those papers you mentioned?" Her mother thought for a moment. "You don't have a choice. You're living under my roof, you're obliged to comply. You probably won't like this experience at first, but it's for your own good, and it's an opportunity to reforge a healthy mother-daughter relationship. I assure you, it will bring you nothing but happiness." A slight smile appeared on her mother's face, but Kelia began to get angry. "No! I don't want that, we'll do what you want, we'll have counselling sessions if that's what you want, but not that, that's ridiculous!" "Kelia, I've already made up my mind." Replied her mother in a firmer tone. "I'm your mother, and as long as you're living here, I'm the one who decides." "But I'm an adult! I'm 18, I have the right to make my own decisions!" "Kelia, that's enough." Her mother frowned, and took a warning tone. Kelia knew it was pointless to argue, that once her mother had made her decision there was no going back. But it all seemed so ridiculous, it was hard to believe. Kelia's mother took a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. "Here's the paper you have to sign." The tone of her voice clearly left no room for discussion and Kelia knew it. She couldn't refuse to sign it, otherwise where would she sleep? Would her mother be able to throw her out? Kelia wasn't sure, but knowing her mother, she certainly didn't want to tempt the devil. She grabbed the paper and stood up, walking over to her desk, grabbing a pen and reluctantly signing at the bottom of the sheet filled with long blocks of text that she didn't even take the time to read. Looking satisfied, her mother stood up. "We have an appointment tomorrow afternoon at the hospital." The tone of his voice softened a little, as if to change the subject. "Now come and join your sister and me downstairs for breakfast." She said, smiling slightly.

Hello lovelies. I’m Amberubael and I started this story as a little something for a friend of mine to tailor to their kinks. This is my first story that I’ve written and after some encouragement to share it I thought I’d share as I’m writing it. I hope you find some enjoyment out of this. Please tell me what you think as I post and create. Content warning: This is a darker story. It involves ABDL, kidnapping, NC, mind games, forced mental regression, gaslighting and eventual Stockholm. These are not things I condone in real life as this is purely a fantasy I’m writing out for the enjoyment of my friend and myself. Warning: This is not a fair ending Chapter One: The Date and the letter Alice picked at the broccoli on her plate with her fork, unable to take her mind off of the girl in front of her. This was her first date in quite a while, a few years actually now that she had thought about it. So far this one was going well, she hoped. They had met on an app geared towards the feminine persuasion and the first few matches had been dudes. When she finally stumbled upon her and matched she was already feeling a little something. “You alright there?” Amber asked with a smirk, having taken to holding her own spoon idly between her fingers and balancing with her thumb. Her other hand now held her chin in her hand with a slight cock of the head to the side. “You kind of zone out there for a moment. You were telling me about work?” “Work, right. Sorry.” Alice couldn’t help but apologize as she looked back up, quickly taking another bite of her alfredo before swallowing. “Like I mentioned, it’s nothing exciting. Mostly just some data entry. Occasional meeting with a few people above my paygrade. The “when the company likes to think it’s more important than it really is” kinda thing.” Another swirl of the fettuccine and another bite. “Give yourself some credit. It can’t be easy work.” Alice brought her eyes up to watch Amber again as she took another sip of soup. Those same green eyes briefly met with Amber’s hazels before she looked down to her plate again. “Well, what about yours? You’ve had me talking about myself all night. Tell me about yourself? What hobbies do you like? Or …” She paused, hesitating as this was sometimes a sensitive subject to bring up amongst some people. “... Do you want to tell me your ‘story’ of how you came out?” Emphasis on the word story to drive her curiosity home. Amber couldn’t help but chuckle and gave a gentle shake of her head. Her curly brown hair bounced a little as she shook her head, Alice noted with a little bit of envy. She had complimented her earlier on her hair when they first met up before the date with Amber taking the compliment and just noting she had use a little bit of product and had ‘let her hair do her thing’. Her own blonde hair took quite a bit of work to get it as straight as she liked it, or braided when the mood struck. “You really want that story?” Amber mused, breaking Alice from her thoughts yet again. “Well I came out some years back, well into my adulthood. Maybe…’16 if I remember correctly? Yeah that sound about right.” Another sip of her soup was taken before she continued. “Won’t go into the specifics but it’s the typical girl from the south, growing up as a boy, family who is ultra religious didn’t take it well. You know the story. I grew a backbone and became honest with myself. Havn’t talked much with the family before then.” Alice couldn’t help but frown but before she could voice anything Amber held her hand up to stall her. “Now now. I’m happy, that’s all I worry about. I have my chosen family.” Amber finished her stalling that line of questions before continuing. “I started hormones some years back. Your turn.” “Me? Oh, I've been out for a while too. Better than yours, I suppose.” She hesitated for a moment, cheeks flushing at the comment. “Sorry I didn’t mean...” Amber flashed her hands in a little dismissive gesture. “No no you’re fine.” “Well, what I mean is, I’m thankful I have a family who accepts me. Nothing as exciting as your story.” “Nonsense, everyone’s story is as unique as they are. They’re beautiful, endearing, or inspirational.” Amber smiled warmly to her, which of course, caused her to blush at both the smile and her words. Alice couldn’t help it but feel enamored with Amber’s way with words. Even when they were texting she just seemed to know what to say on how to help Alice feel better, to laugh, or sometimes to even think about the weirdest things. “Trust me, I’m grateful to hear your story.” She had been the one to ask the question and now here she was being… Alice’s mind wandered again, drifting off as they both continued eating for a bit. The conversations were nice and Amber had this warm, almost maternal feeling about her. That suited Alice fine for more than a few reasons. Those reasons she tried not to think about now as it wouldn’t do to dwell and daydream this early in the date or any potential dynamic that may arise. Daydreaming was a scary world sometime, afterall. It was at least a welcome distraction from… “Alice, are you enjoying your alfredo?” Amber asked with an amused expression suddenly. “I… what? Yeah I mean it’s really good, why?” “Because you’re making a mess of yourself, hold still.” Alice furrowed her brows for a moment in confusion before her eyes widened in surprise as Amber grabbed a napkin and reached over the table carefully and gently wiped at the corners of Alice’s mouth suddenly. She had been too stunned to react as the other woman wiped away the excess sauce from her cheeks and chin and could only react with a heavy blush forming across her lips. “O-oh! Uh, thank you!” She stuttered out before looking down to her plate in pure shame that she had made a mess without realizing it… and pure excitement that Amber had done that. Why had she? Not that she actually complained, it was just so unexpected for her. “Of course… Oh, I hope that wasn’t too forward.” Amber stated, a small blush of her own forming as she set the crumpled up napkin to the side. “Sometimes I forget myself and I really do apologize.” “No no!” Alice stated quickly, almost mentally hitting herself for how quick and strongly she reacted just then. “It caught me by surprise, that’s all. It was… nice, actually.” That blush formed again as she looked to her nearly finished plate. “You’re adorable Alice. I’m having a great time and I hope you are too. I hope I haven't been too forward or anything. I get excited and lose myself when I’m with such a cute girl.” Cute girl? If Alice was capable of spontaneous combustion it would probably have happened at this point. Not ‘beautiful woman’ or anything like that. Cute. Girl. Oh how that pushed buttons she wished she didn’t have. “N-no.” She stumbled across her word a little. “You haven’t. I’ve actually had a really nice time and…” Trailing off as the fear of asking to continue seeing Amber so she wasn’t too forward herself. “And? And you’d like to go on another date?” That confident and warm smile returned to Amber’s features as she watched Alice, fiddling that spoon in her fingers again. “Cause if that’s the case, I’d absolutely love that. We could go out again if you’d like, or I could cook for you. It’s something I’ve been getting into recently, if you’d feel comfortable with that?” Amber asked with no small amount of hope in her voice. Alice jerked her gaze back up at that, a bashful and excited smile crossed her features. “Really?! I mean y-yeah I’d like that!” “Good. I’m glad and would love that. We can work details out later… in the meantime…” Amber started again with another set of back and forth questions as tension seemed to release between the two blushing girls. It was nice how their easy conversations online translated into the real world as time went on. With dinner finished and a few glasses of wine between them the stories flowed freely. Soon enough they’d part ways, even getting a nice, gentle hug between the two as they got into their respective rides home. Alice was loath to let the night end but she didn’t want to push too hard too fast. She suspected she’d have gotten in Amber’s ride that night if she was asked and didn’t want to push the other girl much too far on a first date. Now that the night was winding down and her ride home to her apartment was well on the way she safely let her mind wander, imagining all the fun she might have with Amber or what food she might cook. All the little butterflies dancing through her stomach soon turned into a knot of unease as she approached her apartment. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be home, it just meant dealing with the letter. The letter that had arrived a few days ago. A letter that had sent many emotions going through her thoughts. The letter without a return address. A letter that had called her both by her real name and her online name. The letter with so much impact in so few words that had sent Alice spiraling in panic, fear, anger, and finally humiliation. “I know who you are, Little Alice.” Had been the only words on the page beyond her name on the front of the envelope and it being addressed to her online handle. _________________________________________________________________ A week had passed since the date with Amber and Alice’s final decision to throw the letter away. She wouldn’t let whoever this was hold that power over her. Or she thought so, even after making sure she replaced the lock on her door with one that would electronically alert her phone if it was opened. Whoever this was had to just be getting a rise out of her and by the power of Mork and Gork she wouldn’t let them. She kept in contact with Amber through texting, though the communication had been sporadic some days due to their work schedules. That and Alice didn’t want to come off too strong and burn the candle at both ends when she was hoping to get to know her lady friend at the beginning of whatever they were dancing around. They had, at least, started to make plans for their next date. They agreed on Alice’s place and Amber would bring over her cooking materials she needed as well as the food. She had been tight lipped though on what she was making beyond asking if Alice had any allergies. “She’s so considerate…” Alice had mumbled to herself, as she started her routine after a day of work. Grab the mail from the post, check on her cat Angel’s food and water dish, strip from her business attire and settled into her pajamas, before taking a seat at her computer. Setting the mail to the side so she could accept cuddles from Angel’s demanding self. Today was a day to herself and maybe texting her crush a bit in between Overwatch matches. So, that’s just what she did for a few hours. A few win streaks, a couple of losses here and there, and back to pushing her rank back up again. Amber had been quiet for the first bit of it, probably still working or busy she told herself. Thankfully that had been rather brief when she heard the chime of her phone go off. A quick few texts back and forth as she finished up her sessions for the night had definitely brought her mood up from her losses earlier. Finally, though, it was time to adult for a bit. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she needs to actually do something other than steam roll people online. Rising from her chair would be met with a grumbly meow from Angel before she grabbed the stack of mail from nearby to take with her into the kitchen and started to heat up some leftover chinese she had been eyeballing. As she started rummaging through the mail while her food heated she’d frown, as usual, to the bills or junk that got sent to her. Never anything fun! “Junk. Junk. Bill. Ugh my car doesn’t have an extended warranty. Ju-” Her heart nearly stopped in her chest as the final piece of mail sat in her hands. The handwriting. The lack of return address. The stationary used. It was too familiar and it caused panic to swell up inside of her. It was again addressed directly to her and held a single letter inside. With shaking hands she slipped the envelopes’ edges up and pulled the thick stationary out. On it were familiar words, the same as before, but it was as if the whole story was being mailed to her a bit at a time. “I know who you are, Little Alice. Soon you’ll be mine and you’ll love me for it.” She had to steady herself on her feet by bracing the cabinet with a free hand as she started back and forth between the letter and the envelope. The beeping of the microwave caused her to scream and drop the papers from her hands as she lost whatever composure she had at that instant. It was only when the envelope fell face up did she realize the last piece of the puzzle that turned her blood to ice. There was no stamp.

Sitting on his mother-in-law’s lap, diapered and sucking on a pacifier, Steven couldn’t help but wonder how his life had come to this. Just months ago, he was Joan’s husband, struggling to find work but still a man in his own home. Now, he spent his days dressed as a baby, under the complete control of his mother-in-law, Margaret. Maybe if he had refused Joan’s idea, things would have turned out differently. Maybe he would have found a job and kept his dignity. Maybe Joan wouldn’t have reconnected with her ex—wouldn’t be dating him, sleeping with him, while Steven sat in a nursery, waiting to be fed and changed. But it was too late for maybes. Margaret pulled the pacifier from his mouth and offered her breast. Steven hesitated, but his body had already been trained to accept. He latched on and began to suck, slowly at first, then faster as the familiar routine took over. “That’s my good baby,” she said, her voice warm but firm. Steven shifted, uncomfortable, feeling his diaper grow warm as he nursed. He knew what was happening, but there was no point in fighting it. This was his life now. His mind drifted back to the beginning—to how it all started. Chapter 1 Mother-In-Law Steven sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as Joan drove toward her mother’s house. His hands were clenched in his lap, his stomach twisting with shame. He didn’t dare look at her. Not after everything. This was his fault. At least, that’s what Joan said. Losing his job was bad enough, but failing to find another for over a month? That sealed it. Bills kept piling up, and with Joan’s salary alone, they couldn’t afford to stay in their home. She had given him a choice—move in with her mother or be on his own. She wouldn’t wait around forever, and she wasn’t going to waste her life supporting a man who couldn’t pull his weight. If he refused, she would leave, and divorce would follow. Steven couldn’t risk that. Joan was everything to him. So he agreed. They packed up their things, said goodbye to the home they had built together, and now here they were, pulling into his mother-in-law’s driveway. Margaret’s house was as pristine as he remembered. Big, elegant, the kind of home that radiated wealth and success.The kind of success he had failed to provide for Joan. And there she was—Margaret herself, waiting on the porch. Even at fifty-five, she barely looked over forty. Her posture was perfect, her hair flawlessly styled, her presence commanding. At first glance, no one would ever guess she was a mother, let alone to twins. Margaret was always polished. Always in control. And she had never been shy about her opinions—especially about Steven. The moment Joan parked, Margaret stepped forward with a warm, welcoming smile—directed entirely at her daughter. “Joan, sweetheart,” she said, pulling her daughter into a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. You must be exhausted from the drive.” Then her eyes flicked to Steven. The warmth dimmed slightly, her smile tightening at the edges. Not quite a sneer. But not far off. “And Steven,” she said smoothly. “I assume you’ll be staying as well.” Her tone was polite, but Steven felt the unspoken words hanging in the air. For now. Margaret’s home was just as immaculate inside as it was outside. Not a speck of dust in sight. Everything had a place, and everything stayed in it. She led them through the hall, guiding Joan toward a spacious guest bedroom—clearly set up with comfort in mind. Steven stepped forward instinctively, but before he could enter, Margaret turned to him with a raised brow. “You two can stay here,” Margaret said. “Millie is out of town this week. But she should be back next Monday.” Steven exhaled in relief. Millie was Joan’s mirror image—tall, blonde, gorgeous. But that’s where their similarities ended. Millie was the most obnoxious woman Steven had ever met. Lazy, entitled, living off Margaret’s money without a care in the world. “It’s going to be fun,” Margaret continued, a note of amusement in her voice. “Having my two babies back home again. And well… Steven too, I suppose.” Steven’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Joan dropped onto the bed, already making herself comfortable. “Thanks, Mom. You’re a lifesaver.” “Of course, sweetheart. You deserve to be comfortable.” Then she turned to Steven. “And you’ll be looking for work right away, I assume?” Steven straightened, eager to show effort. “Yes, absolutely. I’ve already put in some applications.” Margaret tilted her head slightly. “That’s good to hear. But until something comes through, you’ll need to contribute around the house.” “Oh, uh, sure. I guess I can do a few things—” Steven said. “That’s a good boy,” Margaret said with a grin and something darker behind her eyes. Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist. The first few days were physically exhausting and mentally draining. Steven was up early every morning, scrubbing floors, vacuuming, dusting, washing dishes. Whenever he had time to spare, he was forced to work on his resume. Meanwhile, Joan was already getting calls about possible jobs. “You can’t just leave me here alone with your mother,” Steven said when Joan told him about her interview. Joan frowned. “We need the money. The faster we both find jobs, the faster we can leave.” “But—“ “No buts,” she cut him off. “Now get back to your chores. You know Mom doesn’t like you lazing around.” Steven sighed. There was always more to do. No matter how much he cleaned, Margaret always found something else. And she always watched him. "A real man takes responsibility.” "You should be grateful to contribute, Steven.” "Is Joan the only one who ever cleaned up after you?” He wanted to argue. Wanted to snap back. But what could he say? He was a guest here. He had no leverage. So he kept his head down and did what he was told. On the fourth day, Margaret called him into the kitchen. “Steven, dear. Remember how you were complaining about doing the dishes?” Steven hesitated. He didn’t remember complaining—just saying his clothes were getting wet. “Well, I remember.” She said, holding something pink and frilly in her hands—an apron covered in Disney princesses. “That won’t be a problem anymore.” Steven blinked. “Uh… what’s that?” “Your apron,” Margaret said simply. “If you’re going to be doing housework, you should at least dress the part.” Steven stared. She couldn’t be serious. “…You expect me to wear that?” Margaret arched an eyebrow. “I expect you to show me some respect and thank me for getting you such a cute apron.” He looked toward Joan, expecting her to say something. To defend him. But Joan just sighed. “Steven, just wear it. Stop making things difficult.” Steven felt his face flush. “It’s ridiculous,” he muttered. Joan’s expression hardened, and she didn’t need to talk for Steven to know what she was thinking. Her words had been very clear. Either he obeyed her mother, or he could pack his things and find a place to live without her. Slowly, reluctantly, he took the apron and pulled it over his head. The fabric felt absurd, hanging over his clothes. Too soft. Too delicate. Too childish. ‘Thank you, Margaret,” he forced himself to say with a smile. Margaret beamed. “There’s a good boy,” she said, patting his cheek. Steven’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay quiet. This was just temporary. Just until he found a job. How could it get worse? Chapter 2 The Incident The week passed in a slow, suffocating haze. Every day blurred into the next—wake up early, clean the house from top to bottom, endure Margaret’s judgmental gaze, and try not to react when she made pointed remarks about what a real man should be doing with his life. Steven had started to adapt, as much as he hated to admit it. He had little choice. Joan was too busy applying for jobs to argue on his behalf, and Margaret had made it crystal clear that he was expected to earn his keep. The apron, as humiliating as it was, had become part of his routine. It wasn’t worth the fight. And just when he was starting to settle into the rhythm of things, Millie came home. The front door swung open with force, and a shrill, excited voice echoed through the house. “Mommy! I’m home!” Steven barely had time to process the words before heels clacked against the hardwood floors, and Millie swept into the kitchen like she owned the place. She had the same blonde hair and striking features as Joan, but where Joan exuded maturity and elegance, Millie was all about herself. Her designer handbag was tossed onto the counter without a second thought, and she flashed Margaret a perfectly manicured smile. You wouldn’t believe she was a woman in her mid-thirties. “Did you miss me?” she asked, leaning in to press a dramatic kiss to Margaret’s cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.” Margaret chuckled, smoothing her daughter’s hair fondly. “The house has been far too quiet without you.” Then her eyes landed on Steven. “…Oh my God.” Steven tensed as she burst into laughter. “Oh, this is too good.” Millie stepped closer, grinning ear to ear. “You’re wearing a princess apron?” Steven’s face flushed hot. He wanted to tear the damn thing off, but he knew Margaret wouldn’t allow it. “I mean, I always knew you were a bit of a sissy, but this?” She turned to Margaret, eyes twinkling. “You’re making him play housewife?” Margaret smiled sweetly. “Oh, he’s been very helpful. Haven’t you, Steven?” Steven’s jaw tightened. Millie giggled, reaching out to ruffle his hair like a child. “Aww, you’re adorable.” Steven jerked away. “Don’t touch me.” Millie smirked. “Relax, princess. I was just admiring Mommy’s little helper.” Steven wanted to disappear. And worst of all—Joan didn’t say a word. She just sat there, looking at her phone as Millie and Margaret mocked him. It was as if she didn’t care anymore and it had only been a week since they moved in. He feared his relationship with his wife would deteriorate at this rate. But he endured it because he felt they were right. If he couldn’t provide for Joan, what could he expect from her? The following weeks were pure hell. If Margaret was subtle in her condescension, Millie was the exact opposite. She took every opportunity to mock him—calling him princess, housewife, and even Margaret’s little sissy maid. She never missed a chance to pat his head, pinch his cheek, or smirk at his discomfort. Steven tried to tune her out. But then Joan got a job, and things got worse. “You’re working for him?” Steven’s voice came out strained, disbelieving. Joan barely looked up from her phone. “Yeah. It’s a great opportunity.” Steven’s chest tightened. “Joan, he’s your ex.” “And?” She gave him a bored glance. “It’s not a big deal, Steven.” Steven gritted his teeth. “It feels like a big deal.” She sighed, setting her phone down. “Steven, grow up. It’s a job. He owns the company, but I don’t even report to him directly.” Steven crossed his arms. “That doesn’t change anything.” Joan ran a hand through her hair, her frustration evident. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. You should be happy for me. This job pays well, and it means we can move out sooner.” The word stung. Like she was the only one trapped here. Steven swallowed hard. “That’s not the point.” Joan grabbed her purse, rolling her eyes. “Whatever, Steven. I don’t have time for your insecurities.” And then she was gone. Leaving him alone with Margaret and Millie eight hours a day, five days a week. Joan was home less and less. At first, Steven tried to ignore it, told himself it was temporary, necessary—she was just busy. It was good that she had a job, right? They needed the money. But something felt different. She started coming home later and later. At first, it was only an hour or two past dinner, but soon, Steven found himself eating alone at the table, pushing food around his plate while Margaret and Millie cast knowing glances at each other. She used to text him during the day—little things: How’s your job search? Miss you. Hope your day’s okay. Those messages stopped. Now, whenever her phone buzzed, she’d glance at it, smirk, and turn the screen away. And the worst part? She had started dressing differently. Joan was never the type to care about makeup or her hair when going to work, but now she left the house looking like she was going on a date. At breakfast, Steven watched as she smoothed out her skirt, adjusting the way it hugged her hips. Her perfume lingered in the air, something subtle and sweet—something she hadn’t worn in years. Steven swallowed, forcing a smile. “You’re really dressing up for this job, huh?” Joan didn’t look up from the mirror. “I just want to look professional.” Steven nodded slowly. “Right. Professional.” His stomach twisted. The days were long, filled with endless cleaning, cooking, and listening to Margaret’s passive-aggressive remarks about what a husband should be. Every evening, his body ached, his mind exhausted from constantly keeping up, keeping quiet, keeping small. So when the first accident happened, he blamed the coffee. It was late afternoon. His knees ached as he scrubbed the kitchen floor, Margaret standing over him, checking for invisible specks of dirt. The warm scent of lemon cleaner lingered in the air, and the cool tiles pressed against his palms. Suddenly, it happened. A strange warmth pooled between his legs. His body tensed. His breath hitched. For a moment, his mind refused to process it. But then, the slow, horrifying realization sank in. His hands trembled as he lurched to his feet, bolting toward the bathroom. Margaret’s voice followed him. “Steven?” He slammed the door shut, heart hammering. Frantically, he yanked down his pants, staring at the small but undeniable damp spot. It was nothing. Just an accident. Too much coffee. Stress. That’s all. Nothing to worry about. He cleaned himself up, forcing deep, steady breaths. When he stepped out of the bathroom, Millie was leaning against the counter, her lips curled into a smirk. Steven froze. “Something wrong?” she asked. Her eyes flicked to his pants. Steven forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “No. Nothing.” “Mmm. If you say so.” She knew. Somehow, she knew, he could see it in her eyes. But it was a one-time thing. It wouldn’t happen again. The next day, it happened again. Then again. It was just a few drops. But it became more frequent. Nothing, however, would’ve prepared him for when it happened in his sleep. The first time Joan noticed, Steven woke to the sound of her sharp intake of breath. It was still the middle of the night. He didn’t register what had happened at first. The room was dimly lit, the hum of the ceiling fan the only sound—until Joan ripped the covers off him. “Oh my God, Steven.” The sheets beneath him were soaked. Steven’s breath caught in his throat. Panic rushed through him, cold and suffocating. His hands clenched into fists as he scrambled to sit up, but the damage was undeniable. “Are you kidding me?!” Joan asked in disgust. Steven opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind was blank. Horrified. “I—I’m sorry,” he finally stammered. “Steven, you’re a grown man. This is not acceptable!” The door creaked open, and Steven flinched as Margaret stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately scanning the scene. It was his worst nightmare. His mother-in-law stood there with that disapproving gaze of hers. “Well,” she said smoothly, exhaling as if she had been waiting for this moment. “I think Stevie here is showing us who he truly is.” Speechless, Steven tried to argue. He tried to tell her to get out of his room. But it wasn’t his room. It was hers. It was her home and he was only a guest. “I suppose we’ll have to take some precautions,” Margaret said with a grin. “We can’t have you ruining the mattress.” She turned to Joan, her voice practical, almost casual. “I think it’s time he started wearing protection.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle — Back to Basics: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DWJ38LPL You can also find Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Chapter 1 "I know someone for whom it's time for bed," I interrupted the peaceful puppet show of my little sister on the living room floor in a tone that, to my shock, almost sounded like my mother's. "Please Emily, just a little bit longer, I'm not tired yet," begged Sophie, looking at me hopefully with her big, brown eyes. It was the usual evening drama she played when she had to go to bed. "No Sophie, it's bedtime now, there will still be a tomorrow to play," I explained to her clearly. I had more than enough of her daily, evening disagreements. "But...," she started to whine, but I cut her off. "No Sophie, it's bedtime now, no arguing!" Sophie pouted, but when I took her by her hand, she got up without any further grumbling and allowed me to accompany her to the bathroom without resistance. After a few meters, I noticed that her walk was a bit odd. She was walking with her legs much more spread apart than usual, as if she were imitating the walk of a duck. At first, I thought it was just another game of hers, a way to make the trip to the bathroom more exciting. A Game that she might have learned at kindergarten. But then, suddenly, I realized why she was walking so strangely. "Sophie, can you wait a moment please," I asked her with a sense of foreboding, and stopped. I lifted her summer dress and saw that her pull-up was completely soaked. It was almost a miracle that she hadn't leaked yet. " You're supposed to tell me when you need to go potty," I scolded her sourly. She looked down ashamed. "I was having so much fun playing, I didn't want to stop, and then suddenly I had to go potty before I could say anything." Sophie was a highly advanced child for her age of four. Her language skills were significantly above average, and she could not only read the entire alphabet, but also already write several words. Even simple addition problems were not a problem for her. Despite her remarkable intellectual abilities, she struggled with potty training. She still often woke up with a wet diaper and had more accidents during the day than a typical girl her age. My mother had tried every imaginable method to help Sophie overcome this issue, but with no avail. She even experimented with alternative therapies, like Bach flower remedies and Homeopathy, but as expected, they were of no assistance either. Typically, I would have put Sophie on the potty one last time before bed, like every night, but I could spare myself this step now. Instead, we just made a quick stop in the bathroom to brush our teeth. Then I took Sophie to her room, where I placed her on the changing table. I removed her dress, took off her wet pull-up, cleaned her privates, and sprinkled some baby powder on her diaper area. Finally, I put her in one of her nighttime diapers. "Is this the pajama you'd like to wear, my dear?" I asked my little sister, offering her the princess-printed sleepwear she loved so much. She beamed with joy and put on pants and top with my assistance. "And which story would you like for bedtime tonight?" I asked, giving her the option to choose, even though I already knew the answer. With a loud rustling of her diaper, Sophie scampered over to her bookshelf, and, as she does every night, pulled out the storybook about the adventures of a little princess. "What a surprise," I said with a touch of sarcasm as I took the book from her hand, but she simply smiled contentedly. To my surprise, Sophie was still enamored with the book, despite having memorized every story inside and out. "Will Mum come to give me a goodnight kiss?" Sophie wanted to know as I helped her into bed and looked at me hopefully. "Mum is still out and won't be home until later, but I'm here if you need anything". Immediately, any trace of a smile disappeared from her face, although this situation was nothing unusual for her. Our mother was a highly sought-after lawyer and often had to work late at her office. In such cases, I was often the one who had to pick Sophie up from kindergarten and take care of her until our mother returned. Only on days when I couldn't or didn't want to, a babysitter looked after her. "Mom will give you a kiss as soon as she's back," I cheered up Sophie. "Remember that your potty is right beside your bed in case you need to use it during the night. And if you don't want to go by yourself, you can always call me," I reminded her, as I usually did, in the hope of preventing any nighttime accidents. "I know," Sophie replied with a touch of frustration, having heard this reminder every night before bed. It would only have been nice if she had finally put this knowledge into action. "The little princess lived in a grand and magnificent castle," I started reading to Sophie, and before long, her eyes began to close. So much for her insisting she wasn't tired yet. I continued reading a bit longer, until I was certain that she was soundly asleep and wouldn't stir even if I stopped the story. I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and tiptoed out of her room. Chapter 2 The pleasant chirping of birds in the garden woke me up from my dreams the next morning. Only two weeks ago I had finished my final school exams and it was still unusual for me not to be woken up by the annoying melody of my alarm clock. Finally, I was free, I was no longer forced to adjust my sleep rhythm to the early morning school hours. I could get up and go to bed whenever it suited me. Of course, I was aware that once I started to go to university, the morning sleep-in would also come to an end, but for now I was going to enjoy every moment of my temporary freedom. Unfortunately, this freedom was still quite lonely. As soon as I had finished my final exams, my mother, my younger sister, and I moved from the city to the countryside. My mother had long dreamed of a small cottage, and she took the opportunity provided by the end of my school years to start a new life in a more idyllic place. Admittedly, the old house and the surrounding countryside were beautiful, but it didn't change the fact that it now felt like we were living at the end of the world. There was no club or bar in the immediate vicinity and nothing else to pass the time as a young person. Without a car, you were completely helpless here and I had neither a vehicle nor a driver's license. As a city child, I had never seen the need to waste my time with tedious driving lessons when you could get around more quickly by bike or public transportation in an urban area. But in the end, it didn't matter that I was not mobile here, it didn't matter that I didn't know anyone my age yet, because in no time at all I would be moving far away to England, the location of my new university. I was about to drift back to sleep when I suddenly realized something was amiss. The area around my buttocks felt uncomfortably wet. Had I sweated excessively in my sleep, causing the mattress to become soaked? But why did only the area around my buttocks seem to be wet? I wondered if I had gotten my period, but it was hard to imagine that the little bleeding I normally had could have caused such a mess. I quickly realized what had happened as I lifted my bedspread and discovered a circular, yellow stain around my buttocks on the otherwise pristine white bedsheet. I had clearly wet the bed, even though it seemed surreal at that moment. After all, I had enough experience finding Sophie's mattress in a similar state when we tried letting her sleep without a diaper at night, to know what such a mishap looked like. Repulsed by the wet, already smelling urine that now also stung my nose, now that the bedspread no longer trapped the odor, I rolled out of bed and immediately stripped off my pajama pants, which were also soaked with urine. No one was ever allowed to know about this mishap. I was 19 years old, not four like my sister. There was no excuse for such an accident at my age. I couldn't even imagine what my mother or friends would think if they found out. I could already picture the rumors spreading through my social circle and my new village. "Have you heard, Emily still wets the bed at 19 years old." I had to act fast. I quickly thought through my options. If I threw my bedding into the washing machine before anyone saw it, no one would ever know about my accident. I quickly took off my sheet from the mattress and also removed the covers. However, now that the mattress was uncovered, my mistake was even more obvious. The big yellow stain in the center of the white mattress was unmistakable and would immediately reveal what had happened to anyone who saw it. I had to turn the mattress over to completely hide the urine stain, but just at the moment I was about to start, there was a knock at the door. "Emily?" I heard my mother's voice. "Please don't come in," I panicked, but as usual, she had already entered without waiting for my permission. "I told you not to come in! You always come in without waiting for me to say it's okay," I yelled at my mother while desperately trying to position myself so she couldn't see my bedding and bed. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to quickly ask if you could unload the dishwasher later, after all, you shouldn't have much to do otherwise," she explained apologetically, but didn't make any effort to leave my room and instead looked curiously inside. She must have just been about to leave the house to go to the kindergarten and then to her office, since she was already holding my little sister at her hand. "Why isn't Emily wearing any pants?" my little sister innocently asked my mom when she saw me. I blushed. Out of sheer fear that my sheets and my bed could be seen, I had forgotten that I was standing half-naked in front of them, giving them an optimal view of my uncovered vulva. I couldn't recall the last time my mother had seen me this exposed, but regardless of when it was, it must have been before I hit puberty. "Uh, I was just about to change", I stammered and quickly brought my hands down to conceal my privates. "Why did you make your bed so early?" My mother wondered as she noticed that my sheets were lying behind me. "Did you get your period and is there some blood on the bed?" "Uh, yeah, that's right” I lied, grateful for this plausible explanation. Unfortunately, it didn't have the desired effect, and she didn't leave me alone. "Is there any stain on the mattress too? You need to act quickly if you want to remove it completely," she explained and before I could do anything, she stepped further into my room and looked at my exposed mattress. She appeared stunned. "Did you wet the bed, Emily?" she asked, clearly in disbelief. The question was rhetorical, she didn't need a response to know what had happened. I was speechless. I stood there, my face red, covering my nudity with my hands and hoping it was just a nightmare from which I would soon wake up. Unfortunately, it was not a dream, and I had to confront the unpleasant truth. To my shock, my mother reacted in the same way she always did when my younger sister had an accident. "Oh Emily, it can happen to everyone," she comforted me in a loving tone. Most people would probably argue that my mother's sensitive and considerate response was a positive thing, something to be happy about, but I would have preferred if she had screamed at me from the bottom of her heart. By reacting to my misfortune in the same way she reacts to my little sister's, I felt like she was equating me with a toddler who was expected to wet the bed once in a while and could therefore not be blamed. "We really have to go now. Are you okay?" my mother asked me with such a soft and concerned voice that I almost started crying. Her caring and considerate demeanor only made me feel that the whole thing was even more of a disaster than I had initially thought. I could only nod silently, as I knew that one more caring word would finally make me cry. "Just put the sheets in the washing machine and let the mattress air out before putting on new sheets," she instructed as she was already walking out the door. "Don't worry Emily, it's probably just a one-time thing. We'll see you tonight," she said finally and in the next moment she was gone with my little sister. Hardly had I been alone when I could no longer hold back my tears. For the rest of the day, I was occupied with crying my eyes out. Why did this have to happen to me and why was I so stupid to get caught as well!?

Hey everyone! I posted this story a little while ago, but took it down due to needing more revamp and ideas to make this story pop. I am the original writer of this story and there is a person on deviantart writing a very similar version that I allowed her to write. I hope everybody enjoys this story as much as I do. Enjoy! Chapter 1: Eva tossed in turn at the sound of her phone's alarm going off she was once again having one of her favorite dreams of her being cared for like the little baby she was dressed as by her neighbor at school Ms.Harper. The large woman was feeding her a baby bottle of warm milk and slowly rubbing her diapered crotch telling her how naughty of a little baby she had been as Eva continued to hear the alarm screaming at her knowing it was time to get up. If anybody was in the room with her you would be pretty shocked to see her the way she was dressed. Eva was 28 years old and stood at 4 feet tall. She was the teacher at one of the finest schools in the state of Florida that taught children with all types of special needs. When she was first hired she was shocked when she went into the classroom to find a large nursery instead of a children's classroom. There were 4 cribs, 4 High chairs, a changing table that could fit most adults, and the largest playpen in the world that she had ever seen along with what looked like an old broom closet that was suppose to be her office. As summer break was coming up she had learned from her neighbor Ms.Harper that all of the furniture and both of there rooms was being renovated for brand new items and would be removed when summer break began which excited Eva even more wondering if she could finally have the things she wanted most a nursery. When the day had finally come and her former students had left the classroom she watched as the maintenance crew rolled in with large boxes of what had to be the new items for her classroom. Eva quickly asked one of the men what they were going to do with the items and quickly learned they were being thrown out and asked if she could have one of each for her "niece". The men smiled telling her that it wouldn't be a problem and Eva was even more excited when she learned they were going to deliver the items as well. Eva stared at her phone knowing that summer had come to an end entirely way to fast, but now she had to get up and ready to meet her new students. She got out of the crib quickly noticing the sagging that was coming from the wet diaper between legs and placing it in the diaper pail beside her changing table. She walked out of her nursery loving the sound of her calling it that truly turned her on even more. She hopped into the shower turning the water on wondering to herself if maybe this year she could do something different. She turned the water off to the shower quickly grabbing a towel drying herself as she made her way towards her old bedroom. She called it old because for most of the summer she truly lived the life of a baby girl. She stared at her old bed seeing it still made up like she left it when summer began and walked towards her closet knowing she didn't have much time to get ready. She looked through all of the suits and adult dresses telling herself maybe she could try something new when she quickly had a cute idea. She walked out of the bedroom and into the nursery which contained a massive walk in closet. She quickly found what she was looking for it was a pair of shortalls she had worn for Halloween the year before and had the words "cutie pie" stitched on the bib. She took the outfit back into her adult room setting them on the bed. After sliding on some panties, socks, and one of her more childish shirts she slid the shortalls over her small frame she pulled the straps over snapping them in place. She walked into her bathroom quickly seeing she had 20 minutes before she had to be at her classroom as she stared into the mirror wondering what was missing. She reached into her drawers finding two red hair bows pulling some of her hair together before putting one bow on one side and then the other giving herself pigtails. She then noticed in the mirror that she truly looked nothing like the 28 year old educator, but a student ready for her first day at pre-school and decide that it was a bad idea. She reached for her phone quickly seeing she only had 10 minutes to be at her classroom. Eva ran out of her bathroom grabbing her purse and shoes before running out of her house towards her car. She started the engine and raced to the school as quick as she could. She was very happy that she had chose to live right around the corner or else she might of been in some real trouble. She pulled into the school seeing she had 7 minutes to get into the classroom knowing she always took the back way in knowing the front of the school was going to be packed with parents dropping off there students. When she got out of her car she then noticed a problem she realized she was still wearing the shortalls, but then knew she was going to have to worry about it later and hoped it wouldn't be that big of a deal. She pulled the back door of the school open running to her classroom that was around the corner of the hall she was on hoping there wouldn't be a line of parents waiting for her as she turned the corner quickly running straight into a stroller that she hadn't seen. Eva stared up from the ground wondering what she had just hit as a set of hands made there way under Eva's small frame as words began to form through her ears. She stared up at a woman asking her "are you hurt sweetheart? where is your mommy?" as Eva began to realize what the woman was getting at knowing the way she was dressed. Eva began to giggle at the woman telling her "mam, I am a teacher" as the older woman looked over Eva telling her "sweety it's not nice to lie to people" as Eva reached into her purse grabbing her badge showing it to the large woman. The larger woman smiled seeing the badge and reading the name "Eva Peters" and quickly responded saying "your my daughters teacher" as Eva saw the woman turn the stroller to her seeing the teenage baby inside of the stroller. The woman then stuck out her hand introducing her as Ms.Johnson and that the toddler inside was her daughter Danni. Eva opened the door to her classroom allowing the woman to push her child inside as Eva stopped to see the transition that her classroom had taken. The room had changed alot and seemed even more babyish then ever before. She walked over to the new cribs sitting beside the wall quickly seeing they were much larger then the previous one's and now had a strap inside to keep the child from moving inside. The next thing she noticed was the size of the playpen it was atleast 7 feet wide and 4 feet tall. Eva remembered the one she had at home she was just barely able to crawl out of hers and now if she was in this there would be no way of her getting out with out help. She quickly broke her trance with the soft knock at the door as she saw more children making there way into the classroom. Both mothers quickly pulled there teenage babies out of the stroller and placing them inside next to Danni. Eva walked over to introduce herself to the first woman, but quickly found herself being picked up and a hand being brought through the front of shortalls as Eva began to struggle as the woman she had met earlier Ms.Johnson quickly yelled "that's the teacher" as the older woman quickly apologized saying that makes since why I didn't feel a diaper as the three women began to laugh. Eva smiled sticking her hand out to the three women introducing herself as "Eva Peters". Both women walked over to the playpen as Eva followed listening as the first woman a tall blond with large breast introduced herself as Ms.Parker and her child McKenzie Parker and the next woman a Tall Asian woman named Ms. Martin and her child Cathy Parker. The three women began to giggle to one another as Eva asked what was so funny. They all stared at one another as they all asked "Why are you dressed like are children if your the teacher" Eva's mind began to go blank wondering what she could tell them as she quickly told them I did this so your children wouldn't feel intimidated by me and would see me just like them as Eva hoped they would buy the story. All three of them smiled at one another again saying you did a really good job as Ms.Parker spoke saying "its funny if you were wearing a diaper today you and my daughter would be twins" as Eva laughed with the mothers as the bell began to ring." Eva waved good bye to the mothers "telling them all that she would have them all taken care of" as the door began to close wondering what the day was going to bring. She looked towards the last crib wondering if she was going to have a 4th baby joining them today as Eva turned hearing a soft knock at the door wondering if that was them now. She opened the door finding the assistant principle Mrs.Ken standing there with a tall teenage girl. Eva spoke saying "good morning" as her boss quickly responded the same before saying "Eva you look so adorable" as Eva smiled thanking the woman saying "I found a new approach for the children" as Mrs.Ken told her "I knew you were going to be a good hire" as Eva smiled at the Teenage girl saying "who is this?" as Mrs. Ken said "this is Chauncey," she is in college to be come a special needs educator like yourself and volunteers with us for her school and will be your new assistant." Eva nervously smiled at the teenage girl introducing herself to her as Eva watched her crouch down her level saying "its great to meet you as well Ms. Peters and I am sure we will become great friends by the end of the semester" as Mrs.Ken spoke telling them "I am going to leave y'all to it" as Chauncey walked into the classroom past Eva who was hoping that with a new assistant wouldn't cause any problems.

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Chapter One The Job Jake crouched in the shadows of the sprawling estate, the weight of his duffel bag pulling slightly on his shoulder. He adjusted his gloves, the cool leather stretching snug over his knuckles, and scanned the mansion for signs of life. It was massive, the kind of house people dream about when they imagine making it big. Jake smirked. For him, it wasn’t about dreams. It was about opportunity. The place looked dead—no cars in the driveway, no lights on in the windows. Exactly as his research had suggested. He’d spent weeks watching this house, noting the schedules of anyone who came and went. No one was supposed to be home tonight. His breath fogged in the crisp night air as he moved to the side of the house. The lock on the basement window was a joke. A couple of minutes with a thin blade, and it popped open. He slid inside quietly, landing on carpeted floors. The faint scent of lavender hit him as he straightened, but he ignored it. Focus was everything now. Jake pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, the beam barely cutting through the darkness. His goal was simple: quick in, quick out. Jewelry, cash, maybe electronics if he had time. Nothing too bulky—stuff he could flip fast without raising eyebrows. The mansion was even more ridiculous on the inside. Everything was oversized, polished, and pristine. It screamed wealth, from the marble flooring to the ornate chandeliers. Jake’s chest tightened slightly as he moved through the rooms, his footsteps silent on the rugs. This kind of place was out of reach for guys like him—always had been. But tonight, a small piece of it would be his. The first haul was easy. A couple of expensive watches from the bedroom dresser, a sleek tablet, and a gold bracelet from a jewelry box on the vanity. Jake worked efficiently, his movements automatic. He didn’t stop to admire the decor or question how someone could afford all this. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out before anyone noticed anything was gone. Then he found that room. Jake paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Something about this one felt different. The rest of the house was all open spaces and luxury; this door was plain, almost out of place. It was locked, but the lock itself was basic—a cheap tumbler mechanism. Jake didn’t think twice. A quick twist with his pick, and the door clicked open. His flashlight beam swept across the room, and he froze. It wasn’t a storage room. It wasn’t an office. It was something... bizarre. The walls were painted pastel pink, and shelves lined with stuffed animals and other childish knick-knacks hugged the perimeter. But the furniture was what hit him the hardest—an oversized crib, a highchair clearly made for an adult, and a wardrobe partially open to reveal rows of frilly dresses that could only be described as costumes. “What the hell...” Jake muttered under his breath, taking a step inside. The smell here was different—sweet, powdery. Something about it turned his stomach. Curiosity outweighed caution. He walked further in, his gloved hand brushing over the smooth wood of the crib. He didn’t understand it. What kind of person owned a room like this? A joke? A kink thing? His brain scrambled for an explanation that made sense. Rich people were weird—he’d seen enough during his jobs—but this was on another level. Jake moved to the wardrobe, reaching for one of the dresses. He wasn’t sure why. Something about it felt unreal, like he needed to confirm it wasn’t some elaborate prank. The fabric was soft and frilly under his fingers, and he quickly dropped it back into place, disgust curling in his gut. A sound behind him made his blood run cold. The lights clicked on, and Jake spun around, his heart slamming into his ribs. Standing in the doorway was a woman. Tall, elegant, and composed, she had sharp features framed by dark, perfectly styled hair. She wore a sleek black dress that hugged her figure, and her heels clicked against the floor as she stepped inside. Jake’s instincts kicked in, and he dropped the flashlight, reaching for the knife in his pocket. Before he could pull it, the woman raised her hand. “Don’t bother,” she said, her voice smooth but commanding. “You’re not going to use that.” Jake hesitated. Her eyes pinned him in place. She didn’t look scared. She didn’t even look angry. She looked... amused. “Listen, lady, I don’t want any trouble. I’m leaving.” His voice sounded shaky to his own ears, and he hated it. He didn’t wait for her to respond. He moved toward the door, but she blocked his path. “I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere, Jake.” The sound of his name stopped him cold. His chest tightened as panic bubbled up. “How the hell do you know my name?” The woman smiled, and it sent a chill down his spine. “Oh, I know everything about you. Your name, your little ‘side hustle,’ even the last three houses you broke into. You’ve been sloppy.” Jake’s grip tightened on the knife. He could push past her. He could run. But something about the way she looked at him made him hesitate. “I could call the police,” she continued, tilting her head. “Show them the security footage of you breaking in. But that’s not nearly as interesting as what I have in mind.” Jake’s mouth went dry. “What are you talking about?” Her smile widened, and she stepped closer. “I’m offering you a choice, Jake. Prison... or me. Stay, and I’ll teach you some lessons you clearly never learned.” Her eyes flicked to the room around them, and Jake’s stomach turned. “Lessons in discipline. Obedience. Manners.” His mind raced. Prison would mean years behind bars—he’d never survive that. But staying here, with her, in this... nightmare of a house? Every instinct screamed at him to run, to fight, to do something. And yet, all he could do was stand there, frozen, as her words echoed in his ears. “You’re going to thank me for this one day.” The last thing Jake felt was the door shutting behind him. Chapter Two Jake’s Nightmare Jake’s wrists burned where the zip ties dug into his skin. He sat slumped on the floor of the strange room, his back pressed against the oversized crib. The polished wooden bars felt cold and unyielding, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his rising panic. His legs were stretched out in front of him, useless with his ankles bound the same way as his wrists. “What... what are you doing?” His voice came out shaky, more desperate than he wanted. Madame Evelyn didn’t respond immediately. She was at the wardrobe, methodically pulling out items and laying them on the changing table—a stack of diapers, bottles of powder, and frilly clothes he couldn’t even bring himself to look at directly. Her calm, deliberate movements made his skin crawl. It was like she had all the time in the world, and that scared him more than if she’d been angry or frantic. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” Jake twisted his arms against the restraints, wincing as the ties bit deeper. “This isn’t funny, lady. Let me go!” Evelyn finally turned to face him, holding something in her hands that made his stomach drop—a large, white diaper, absurdly oversized. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his struggling. “You agreed to my terms, Jake. This is part of your rehabilitation.” His throat tightened. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening.” He kicked his bound legs, scooting away from her as much as he could, which wasn’t far. His shoulders banged against the crib bars. “You can’t—this is insane! You’re insane!” Evelyn didn’t flinch. “Insane, perhaps,” she said with a faint smile, “but effective.” She crouched in front of him, her dark eyes locking onto his. “You’re not in control here, Jake. That’s the point. The sooner you accept it, the easier this will be.” Jake’s breathing quickened. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest that it drowned out the rest of the room. “You can’t do this. I’ll—I’ll report you. You think you’re untouchable?” He tried to sound threatening, but his voice cracked. It wasn’t convincing, even to him. “You’ll report me?” Evelyn’s voice dripped with amusement. “And tell them what? That you broke into my home and now you’re upset about the consequences? Be my guest.” Jake opened his mouth but found no words. She was right. He had no leverage, no way out. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and he slumped back against the crib. She stood and crossed the room again, grabbing a pair of scissors from a nearby shelf. Jake’s stomach twisted as she approached. “What are you doing with those?” He tensed, instinctively trying to scoot away again, but she reached for his zip-tied wrists. “Relax,” she said sharply. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not physically, anyway.” The plastic ties snapped under the blade, and his arms fell limply to his sides. He rubbed at the raw skin on his wrists, glaring up at her. His anger flared for a moment, but it fizzled as she gestured toward the changing table. “Up,” she commanded. Jake blinked. “What?” “Up. On the table. Now.” Her voice had an edge that left no room for argument. He shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m—” Evelyn didn’t wait for him to finish. In one swift motion, she grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet with surprising strength. Jake stumbled, caught off guard, and before he could regain his balance, she shoved him toward the table. “Get up, or I’ll make this worse for you,” she said, her tone ice-cold. “You’ll learn soon enough that defiance doesn’t get you anywhere.” Jake hesitated, his muscles locking as he glanced at the open door. Could he make a run for it? The thought vanished almost as quickly as it came. Even if he got past her, his legs were still tied. He wouldn’t make it five steps. Grinding his teeth, he climbed onto the table, the padded surface creaking under his weight. Every fiber of his body screamed at him to fight, to resist, but fear kept him rooted. Evelyn wasted no time. She secured his ankles to the table’s built-in straps, immobilizing him completely. Jake struggled instinctively, but the restraints held firm. “This isn’t happening,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. His fists clenched at his sides. “This isn’t real.” “Oh, it’s very real,” Evelyn said, her voice maddeningly calm. She pulled a fresh diaper from the stack and unfolded it with a practiced ease. Jake turned his head away, his cheeks burning with humiliation. He felt her grip his ankle and heard the sound of the Velcro straps tightening further. “Don’t you dare—” His protest was cut off by the cold air hitting his skin as she unceremoniously tugged his pants and boxers down. The fabric bunched around his restrained ankles, leaving him exposed. Jake’s face burned hotter. “Stop! What the hell is wrong with you?” Evelyn didn’t respond. She simply lifted his legs by the ankles with one hand—like he weighed nothing—and slid the diaper beneath him with the other. Jake squirmed, but it was useless. She had complete control. “You need to stop fighting, Jake,” she said as she sprinkled powder over him. The scent was cloyingly sweet, and he gagged slightly, turning his head further away. “It’ll only make this harder for you.” “This is sick,” he spat. His voice cracked with frustration, and he hated himself for how small he sounded. “You’re sick.” “Perhaps,” she said, pulling the diaper snugly between his legs and taping it into place. The sound of the adhesive tabs fastening made Jake’s stomach churn. “But I’m not the one who thought breaking into a stranger’s house was a good idea.” When she stepped back, Jake refused to look at her. He stared at the ceiling instead, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The diaper felt bulky and foreign against his skin, a constant, humiliating reminder of his helplessness. Evelyn walked to the side of the table and leaned down, her face close to his. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jake finally snapped, his voice rising. “You’re insane! You think you can just—” Her hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him. Her eyes bore into his, calm but deadly serious. “I can, and I will,” she said softly. “You have no idea what’s in store for you, Jake. But you’ll learn.” When she let go, Jake stayed silent. For the first time, the reality of his situation began to sink in. He wasn’t just trapped in her house. He was trapped in her world. And there was no way out. Posted April 6, 2024 Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Melissa’s Re-Potty Training It was a beautiful day. Boys and girls were playing in the park, teenagers were hanging out at the mall, and twenty-one-year-old Melissa was stuck inside her nursery. If there was anything that made the whole baby treatment unbearable, it was how time seemed to slow down as the day grew older. She sighed. By now, her friends would be at the beach or with their boyfriends. But not Melissa. No. Babies have no boyfriends. Babies aren’t allowed out of their playpens when Mommy’s busy. And her stepmother was busy. She was busy with her real daughter. Three-year-old Amelia had already been potty trained and was allowed to do more things than Melissa. And she was twenty, almost twenty-one. An adult. But here she was, diapered and wearing a ridiculous baby girl dress. If her friends could see her now, would they laugh? Would they help her? Would they change her already-soaked diaper? It had been weeks since she was last allowed to wear big-girl panties. Weeks since she tasted the sweetness of freedom. Independence was now out of the question. She doubted she could make it without someone looking after her, changing her, bathing her, feeding her. Was this to be her life now? No longer an adult but a baby. Chapter 1 The Re-Potty Training Idea As Melissa entered the elegantly appointed dining room, her heart raced with apprehension. With each step, her unease grew heavier within her chest. The once familiar surroundings now felt suffocatingly foreign, as if she were a stranger in her own home. Her gaze drifted toward the large portrait hanging above the fireplace, where the stern visage of her stepmother, Helen, stared back, conveying nothing but disapproval. Melissa had always felt that Helen saw her as an inconvenience, a constant reminder that her husband had had a full life before her. And Helen was a jealous woman. She had always belittled Melissa, and now that Melissa's dad was gone, she was alone with no one on her side but her best friend, Dana. Sadly, Dana didn’t live with her, and she needed an ally. "There you are, Mel," said Helen as Melissa entered the room, "I've been waiting for you." Helen's presence filled the room with an air of menace, casting a shadow over Melissa as she took her seat. As they sat together at the polished wooden table, the silence grew heavy between them, broken only by the soft scraping of silverware on porcelain. Tea, as Helen called it, was a constant ritual at home. “How you been?” “All good.” “How’s job hunting treating you?” “There’s not much out there unless I want to work for KFC or something like that.” “I see. Anything else you’d like to share with me?” Melissa shook her head, thinking about one thing she didn’t want anyone to know. But her step-mother reached across the table and gently placed her hand upon Melissa's trembling fingers, her eyes cold and calculating. “I think it's about time we addressed your... little issue." Melissa didn't know what to say. She had been having the same problem for about a month. It started as something small, but it had spiraled out of control, and now she had no idea what to do. She had wet herself so many times so far that it was a miracle no one had found out. "What issue?" asked Melissa with a soft and doubtful demeanor. Maybe if she played dumb she could end this awkward conversation. "Look, if you want to pee yourself, that's okay," said Helen, "But you won't do it in my house. Not when I'm working so hard to potty train your sister." "Step-sister. And it's not your house. It's my dad's." "And according to his will, it's now mine." "And mine!" There was a short moment of silence. "Look," said Helen, grabbing Melissa's hand, "I want us to stop fighting all the time. Your father would've like that. What do you think?" Melissa nodded, hesitant, though. She wasn't fully convinced by Helen's intentions, and rightfully so. In the past, Helen had shown no kindness towards her. Helen leaned closer, her voice softening, "I don't want you to feel ashamed anymore. We can help you fix this." Melissa glanced down at her hands, gulping, "I don't know what to do." "Well, I was thinking. Amelia is going through potty training. She's still too small to understand much, right? So, why don't I potty train you alongside her?" Melissa almost choked on her own saliva. "What do you mean, potty training me? I'm an adult!" "I know. I know you are. But listen to me, it's easy. We just need to teach your body how to hold it until you go potty. That shouldn't be too hard. As you said, you are an adult, and I bet a couple of weeks should be enough. Because if you cannot control it, I'm afraid diapers will be the only way." Melissa's jaw dropped, "You're kidding, right? I'm not... there's no way I'm wearing diapers. I'm an adult, remember? And at twenty-one, I get my dad's money, and I'll be out of here." "True. But you aren't twenty-one yet. And you are here, ruining your clothes and my furniture and setting a terrible example for your sister." Melissa didn't really have an argument; she just knew she didn't wanna be back in diapers at twenty-one. “Step-sister,” she said, “What do you mean potty training me?" “I think that part is self-explanatory, right? We take you potty on a schedule until you stay dry in between potty trips. Then we decrease the frequency until you earn your big girl panties again. Eventually, your body will get used to it, and you'll go by yourself. How does that sound?" "How does that help me now? I mean, I will still," she paused, blushing and ashamed, "Wet myself until we get it under control." "We can do what I'm doing with Amelia," she said, smiling, "Protection under your clothes." "No! I told you, no diapers." "Pull-ups aren't diapers. They are protective underwear." "What's the difference?" "For starters, they don't use tabs. They are easy to hide under your clothes. They are less bulky and noisy. They are completely different and they are very helpful during potty training..” "I don't know," said Melissa, thinking about how awkward it would be to have that "protective underwear" around her crotch. And what if someone found out? She was already not popular with people her age. Her only friend, Dana, was a little odd herself. Maybe she wouldn't mind. But there was no way she would tell her about it. "I just want to help you," said Helen. "Besides, this could be an excellent way for us to connect—you know, have that mother-daughter experience we never had.” Melissa sighed, ”When do we start?" "What about right away?" Helen wasted no time. She grabbed Melissa by the wrist, softly leading her deeper into the house. Through halls and corridors and stairs until they were in a room painted soft pink. It was Amelia’s room, and she wasn’t there. “Amelia is playing outside," Helen replied, "In her sandbox.” “She won’t know?” “She will. But she won’t care. She’s only three.” Helen grabbed some white underwear with the design of some Disney princess on the front. It was small, but then again, Melissa was quite thin. Tall, yes, but thin. “Try this on,” said Helen, placing the pull-up in Melissa’s hand. It was defiantly thicker than regular underwear, and the deign was childish. But Helen was right, they didn’t look that much different from her panties. “A little privacy, please.” Helen left the room, leaving Melissa in the nursery. She carefully dropped her pants to notice her underwear was already damp. Sighing, knowing she actually needed the protection, she took her panties off and cleaned herself with some baby wipes she had close by. Finally, the moment of truth. She slid into the pull-ups, feeling the soft thickness of them against her smooth crotch. She didn’t dare to look at herself in the mirror. She rushed to get her pants on again, and when she was sure her protective underwear wasn’t visible, she left the room. Chapter 2 Potty Time While Helen prepared lunch, Melissa sat at the dining table, staring blankly into space. Each clink of the dishes sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of what was around her crotch. The pull-up wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be, but it was definitely not something she liked. She had kept it dry so far, though it had not even been an hour yet. Helen entered the room carrying a tray laden with fries, nuggets, and fresh salad. She smiled gently at Melissa, something the young woman wasn’t used to. Next to her was her younger stepsister, Amelia. At three, she looked like a mini version of Helen herself. It was obvious she was destined for popularity, unlike Melissa, and somehow, even if Amelia had always been nice to her, she always resented her. “Mel's potty training, too, Mommy?" asked Amelia as she grabbed a handful of fries. "That's right, hun." Melissa tried to smile back, but it seemed forced. Helen noticed her discomfort and quickly added, "Don't worry, sweetie. We'll take it slow, and I'll be there to help you every step of the way." Feeling slightly more reassured, Melissa nodded. "Thanks." As they all sat down to eat, Melissa couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Helen's behavior. Helen seemed to genuinely want to help her, but she wondered why. "It's time for the potty," Helen announced once everyone was finished with the meal. Helen gave them no time to argue as she grabbed both their wrist, pulling them towards the living room, where a plastic potty awaited. "Is that really necessary?" asked Melissa in shock. "It's just part of the process. Show me you can use the plastic potty, and you can move onto the toilet. It shouldn't be difficult. Should it?" Before Melissa could continue arguing, she was interrupted by her stepmother. "Who wants to go first?!" asked Helen again with a devilish smile. Amelia raised her hand. Within minutes, the younger of the three had done her business like a professional. "I'm a big girl!" said Amelia, smiling from ear to ear, "I'll be potty trained first!" Those words weighed heavily in Melissa's mind. The little brat was as competitive as her mother. It had been cute a few years ago, but now, she was just annoying. Melissa felt her rage growing stronger, fueled by the constant tease. But she fought back against it. After all, Helen was only trying to help. And Amelia needed the encouragement. "Yes, you are," said Helen, "But I think Melissa will surprise us too, right, Mel?" Melissa nodded. Despite her frustration, she decided to give it a try. If nothing else, she owed it to Helen since she helped her when nobody else did. Taking a deep breath, she lowered herself onto the seat of the tiny plastic potty. In contrast to Amelia's confident demeanor, Melissa felt vulnerable and exposed. However, knowing that she must prove her mettle, she closed her eyes and focused on relaxing her muscles. But nothing. A minute passed. And then another. She pushed harder. Nothing. She pushed again, and a loud fart echoed in the room. Melissa blushed as her stepmother and stepsister giggled. One more minute passed. Another. And nothing. "Alright," said Helen, "I don't think it's going to happen." "No, wait!" said Melissa, pushing harder now, "I can do this." "Honey, you're going to give yourself a stroke if you push that hard. It's okay. You didn't make it this time. Let's just try again later." "I made it to the potty, Mommy. I'm winning!" said Amelia, happy as just a kid could be. But as Melissa pulled her pull-up and pants back up, she couldn't help but feel pathetic and like a failure. She was an adult, and she couldn't even control her body enough to pee by herself. "You'll make it next time. It's okay. It's the first time you've tried. I'm sure you'll make it," said Helen, and for the first time since Melissa met her, she actually felt as if her stepmother cared about her. Perhaps this potty-training idea wasn't that bad after all. With her first time on the potty a failure, Melissa had nothing left to do but wait. She was to call for Helen's help if she felt the need to go, but the thought of having to ask for help to pee was too embarrassing to even consider. She was a big girl. She could make it to the toilet without any help. And so she waited. "Potty time," said Helen an hour later as Melissa worked on her resume. It wasn't looking that good, but she wasn't twenty-one yet, and she needed the money if she wanted to go out that summer with her friends. "One minute," said Melissa, staring at a blank page. Maybe tomorrow, she could try again. It's not as if she were in dire need of a job. If only being an adult weren't that difficult. She stood up and went straight to the living room, where Helen and Amelia were waiting beside the plastic potty. "Your sister's dry," said Helen, "What do we say?" "Congrats," said Melissa, pretending to care enough to form a smile. Helen approached Melissa with a gentle, almost motherly demeanor. "Now, let's check our big girl." "What are you...?!" Helen's finger found their way to the elastic band of Melissa's pull-up. The young adult blushed, trying to get away but failing. "My dear," said Helen, removing her fingers from Melissa's crotch, "You're wet. "What? No. I'm not!" Melissa rushed her hand to her padded crotch, only to notice it was bigger and warmer and obviously full of urine. It couldn't be. She didn't feel it. She was a big girl. She should be able to make it to the potty. Her eyes turned watery, and her knees began shaking. "I'm sorry," she said, fighting back the tears. Helen embraced her with no hesitation—a warm embrace—the sort of touch only a mother could provide during times of distress, and for a second, Melissa felt less of a failure. "It's okay, honey," Helen said, patting her back carefully, "That's what your pull-ups are for. You'll make it next time." It sounded familiar, like some of those truisms parents tell children to encourage them. As much as she despised admitting it, her stepmother's kind words did help. Perhaps Helen was right. She might very well make it next time. It was just one accident. She would make it to the potty next time. There was no way she would lose the race for potty training against her younger stepsister. But for the entire week, Amelia outperformed her. “I’m a big girl!” She would sing as she made it to the potty. Meanwhile, Melissa sat there, and nothing would come out. As if her body was actively working against her. Every day she would have to use three pull-ups or more while her younger step-sister was about to graduate to big girl panties. “Maybe we started you too early,” said Helen as she checked Melissa’s underwear. “It doesn’t seem you’re making any progress. If anything, it looks like you’re regressing.” Melissa blushed at her words. “We’ll keep trying tomorrow. But we might need a different approach if things keep going this way.” Melissa said nothing as she got ready for bed that night. Now alone in her room, her thoughts were flooded with the idea of failing her second potty-training. What would she say to Dana? She had been avoiding her best friend all week in hopes she could get her accidents under control. Melissa sighed, closing her eyes, hoping the next day would be better. However, when she woke up, she noticed something new as she moved in her bed. The padding between her legs was heavier and colder. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Still working on sequels to A Change Would Do You Good and The Academy at Red Hills. In the meantime, I've been working on a few short stories to share! Here's a fun Mechanical Nursery story with a pair of snooping friends and an evil stepmother. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER ONE “So, what do you think is in here, Kayla?” “I honestly have no idea. Rebecca is so weird. She hides out in here a lot while my dad is away for business. I swear, I thought she just married him to be a trophy wife but she’s just…so weird.” Kayla turned on the light to the large building that Rebecca had erected behind their estate. She had originally pitched it as a she-shed but the finished product was closer in size to a guest house. Eventually, curiosity had gotten the best of Kayla and she convinced Jenna to sneak in one night to explore. The two friends weren’t quite sure what they were looking at. Some sort of conveyor belt took up the middle of the space and fed into a giant plexiglass cage that took up the majority of the room. There looked to be a big control panel on a raised platform overlooking everything else. It looked clean…sterile…boring. “Is she making something? There’s nothing here. I don’t get it.” Jenna walked towards the enclosure and tapped on the glass as she looked inside. It was empty, like a giant aquarium waiting to be filled. “This part definitely looks to be the controls. Maybe we can turn it on and see what happens?” Jenna and Kayla climbed the small set of stairs to the control panel and looked for a way to turn the machine on. Jenna noticed a small key towards the top and tentatively twisted it while shrugging at Kayla with a sly smile. The conveyor belt sprang to life and started slowly chugging along. Kayla and Jenna winced and prepared for the worst but nothing else happened. So far this whole thing had been a bit of a letdown. As Jenna descended the stairs to continue exploring, Kayla followed close behind while looking over her shoulder to make sure that her stepmother hadn’t returned to catch them in the act. The bumbling blonde didn’t notice that her friend paused at the bottom and the momentum of their collision carried them forward as they both tumbled onto the moving belt. “Oof! Watch where you’re going, Kayla!” “Occupants Detected. Initiating Safety Protocol.” Jenna was dazed from being launched onto the belt and looked to see where the robotic voice was coming from. As she moved to a seated position she felt Kayla grab her arm and turned to push her away. But when she looked down, it wasn’t Kayla’s arm at all. Strange robotic arms had risen from below the belt and now had a grip on both of her arms. Turning behind her, she saw that Kayla was also fighting to free herself from their tight mechanical grip. “Hey! Stop it! Kayla, what is this?!” Jenna thrashed and was flipped head first onto the belt to face her fearful friend. Within seconds both girls were forced to lay on their backs as the conveyor belt continued its maddeningly slow crawl through the room. “Occupants Secure. Initiating Garment Removal Process.” “Wait…what?!” Kayla began to thrash and lifted her head to see what all the fuss was about and was surprised to see that Jenna had been spun around to face her. A small container was placed between their feet and Kayla watched as both of Jenna’s shoes landed in the container and watched her fight as her tight jeans were peeled off of her legs. Jenna’s legs were lifted straight into the air as her black panties were removed and Kayla saw a side of her friend that she had never seen before. Jenna was bare from the waist down and too shocked to make a sound. Kayla made up for it as she screamed and continued to pull against the strict hold of the mechanical arms not wanting to meet a similar fate as her friend. As Jenna was pulled into a seated position for her top to be lifted over her head, she was given a clear view of her friend’s disgrace until they were both completely naked and sitting toe to toe. They each took a moment to briefly study the other’s nude form before making awkward eye contact and looking away. “Jen, what are we going to do?!” “Don’t ask me! What the fuck is you’re crazy stepmom up to in here?!” “Scan complete. Beginning cleansing and hair removal process.” “I don’t like the sound of that!” Both girls had their arms lifted into the air as they were given an unwanted spongebath by sentient robot hands. They giggled and shouted as their underarms were washed and moaned and looked away from each other as each breast was carefully and meticulously scrubbed. Their arms were pulled and held down over their heads as they were both forced to lay on their backs on the conveyor belt before their legs were lifted high into the air for the cleansing process to continue. The mechanical hands proved to be very nimble and thorough as the two lifelong friends bore the indignity of having their nethers cleaned in front of each other. Through clenched fists, Kayla and Jenna squealed as the sponges were exchanged for cool shaving cream and screamed indignantly as each had her womanhood shaved away one strip at a time until they were both completely bare. “Commencing health check.” Kayla raised her head to look at her friend through her raised legs. “What does THAT mean?” “No, no, no, no, Nooooo!!!” Jenna squealed as the thermometer entered her smooth bottom without warning. She looked up to see an identical thermometer poking out of her friend’s bare ass. “Ugh!!!” Thermometers removed, both girls were given a clean bill of health as the conveyor belt inched forward. “I’m going to fucking kill you Jenna! Why do I let you talk me into this stuff?” “Me?! This was YOUR idea, bitch!” “Inappropriate language detected. Initiating Pacification Protocol.” “Pacification protocol? What the…mmmph!” Kayla raised her head to check on her friend and was met with a pacifier aimed directly towards her mouth. She tried to duck away but was no match for the machine and both friends found themselves pacified and fuming. As soon as the mechanical hands released their grip, both girls spit out the pacifiers and raised their heads to look at each other through their raised legs. Jenna was about to speak when she was interrupted by the voice of their mechanical overlord. “Pacification rejected. Disciplinary Action required.” Jenna’s eyes grew wide as she saw the wooden paddle being raised behind Kayla’s head. Seeing Kayla’s shaking head and wide eyes, she correctly assumed that a similar paddle was heading in her direction. “No! Please! No!!!” SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! The paddles alternated from one girl to the other, as both girl’s smooth bottoms were spanked for the first time in their privileged lives. SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! “Owww!!! Oh god… stop…please!!!” The paddles retreated and pacifiers were lifted back to each girl’s bewildered face. Kayla looked to Jenna who had already accepted hers and decided it wasn’t worth risking another spanking as she begrudgingly accepted the rubber bulb into her mouth. They stared at each other for a moment, tear filled eyes behind plastic mouthguards designed to keep them quiet and compliant. Kayla laid her head back down first, resigned to whatever would come next. Jenna saw the box of supplies coming over her head before it was announced. “Pacification complete. Initiate Dressing Protocol.” Jenna laid her head down and stared at the ceiling as the box of supplies was pulled over her head and landed between the two pacified and exposed girls. She closed her eyes and tried to remember some of the deep breathing exercises she had learned during a yoga retreat in Bali. The rustling and crinkling noise pulled her from her trance and no amount of breathing exercises prepared her for what she saw next. Two sets of hands were rubbing large diapers back and forth, fluffing them to invite more and more poof. Though she had never seen a diaper that big before she somehow knew that they would inevitably fit her and her involuntarily infantile playmate. Kayla looked up and sighed. With the pacifier in her mouth she guessed that she shouldn’t have been surprised and her sore bottom was a reminder that there was no use trying to fight this machine. If this crazy gadget wanted her and her friend in diapers, then they were going to find themselves with padded bottoms sooner rather than later. Their toned bottoms were raised simultaneously as the thick padding was placed beneath them. Soft sweet-smelling powder fluttered down onto their freshly shaven bodies and the familiar ripping sounds of tape let them know that their degradation was almost complete. Once the girls were firmly taped into their first diaper in decades, they were pulled to a seating position to face each other. Each looked down at her own diaper before looking across to her friend and blushing. Their arms were pulled skyward as they were finally given a bit of modesty in almost identical tops: pink for Jenna and purple for Kayla. The obscenely adorable tops barely came down to the bottom of their breasts leaving their full midriff exposed. The friends pouted at each other behind their pacifiers as their hair was brushed and pulled into braided pigtails with matching ribbons. As they neared the end of the conveyor belt, each girl was also fitted with matching padded mittens and booties, ensuring that they would be unable to remove any of their new wardrobe or get into any trouble. Jenna and Kayla were lifted under the arms from the end of the conveyor belt and placed into the empty glass prison. They stared at each other in utter confusion and disbelief as the mechanical arms rescinded and they were left alone where they didn’t dare move for several minutes. Kayla decided to risk it first as she spit out her pacifier and let it dangle from the clip attached to her purple top. Both girls froze in place as they waited to see if they would be punished again for disobeying. After a few moments of nervous silence, Jenna also spit out her pacifier. “What are we going to do?” Kalya prodded at her diaper with her locking mitts and shrugged. “Hello girls! Are we having fun?” Both girls struggled to their feet and fought to maintain their balance in padded booties as they looked towards the control panel. “Rebecca! What the fuck is this place? Why are you doing this?!” “Oh, I’m not doing anything…at least not yet…you brought all of this on yourselves by snooping around where you don’t belong.” “Let us out of here!” “Yeah, this is weird! Come on!” Rebecca cackled, glad to finally put these two brats in their proper place. “I’ve been looking for a way to further my experiments and then you two fall directly into my lap. Kayla, I’ve been wanting to take your bratty ass over my knee since I married your father and Jenna has been such a bad influence on you that I think a weekend in puffy diapers is exactly what her cute little bottom needs.” “You bitch!” “Did she say a weekend?” The evil stepmother leaned back in her chair and put her hands behind her head before leaning forward to press the microphone button again. “The cube you find yourself in is perfectly sealed with a locking timer to ensure proper protocol is followed. It will not release for 72 hours and the only way in or out is via that conveyor belt with my mechanical friends.” Rebecca looked down at the two friends and tried to decipher if their pouty expressions leaned more toward fear or indignation. Either way, she was going to enjoy the hell out of this. “Yes, the three of us are going to have a lot of fun together. I have so many fun surprises in store for you!”

Chapter 1: In the digital age, where connections are often forged through the flick of a finger, it was a typical evening spent browsing through a dating app that set the stage for an unexpected adventure. My name is Mikey; like many others navigating the world of online dating, I was searching for that elusive spark, a connection that might just lead to something more meaningful. As I lazily swiped left and right, profiles blurred into one another, each promising something unique yet often feeling the same. Just as I was about to call it a night, a profile caught my eye. Her name was Morgan. Her profile picture radiated warmth and kindness, a vibrant smile that seemed to leap off the screen. Her eyes, a captivating blend of green and gold, held a spark that was both inviting and mysterious. Morgan owned a daycare, a detail that made her even more intriguing. There was something incredibly attractive about a woman who cared for children, who had the patience and kindness to nurture young minds. Her bio was simple yet profound: "Looking for someone who appreciates the simple things in life. Loves kids, adventures, and genuine connections." I swiped right without a second thought. To my surprise, it was a match. A rush of excitement coursed through me as I quickly typed out a message, "Hey Morgan, loved your profile. Daycare owner, huh? That's amazing. What's the most rewarding part of your job?" Her response came sooner than I expected. "Hey Mikey, thanks! The most rewarding part is seeing the kids grow and learn. It's like watching little miracles every day. What about you? What do you do?" I smiled, feeling a connection already forming. "I'm a software developer. Not as glamorous as shaping young minds, but it pays the bills. What do you like to do for fun?" Morgan's reply was playful and flirtatious. "I love hiking, reading, and trying new recipes. But lately, I've been exploring something a bit more... adventurous." Intrigued, I asked, "Oh yeah? Like what?" Her next message made my heart race. "Well, let's just say I've been exploring some new... fantasies. Ever tried anything a bit out of the ordinary?" I felt a thrill run down my spine. This conversation was taking a turn I hadn't expected, but I was more than willing to go along for the ride. "I'm always up for an adventure. What did you have in mind?" Morgan's response was coy yet inviting. "Why don't we meet up and find out? There's a great little café downtown. How about tomorrow afternoon?" I agreed without hesitation. "Sounds perfect. I'll see you there." As I put my phone down, I couldn't wipe the grin off my face. This was shaping up to be more than just another swipe right. This felt like the start of something exciting, something real. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of a journey that would challenge my perceptions and push the boundaries of my desires. Chapter 2: Curiosity piqued by Morgan's intriguing offer, I found myself eagerly accepting the chance to see her daycare in action. The building was nestled in a serene neighborhood, its exterior painted in cheerful hues that promised warmth and joy within. As we approached, the sounds of laughter and playful chatter spilled out, creating a welcoming atmosphere. Morgan led me inside, and I was immediately struck by the vibrant energy of the place. The walls were adorned with colorful murals depicting whimsical scenes of forests, oceans, and outer space, each corner designed to spark imagination and creativity. Toys of every kind were neatly arranged, ready to be explored by eager little hands. "Welcome to Little Miracles," Morgan said with a proud smile. "This is where the magic happens." I followed her as she walked through the daycare, introducing me to the different areas. There was a cozy nook filled with books, a play area with a giant wooden castle, and a quiet corner with soft mats and pillows for nap time. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the boundless energy of children at play. "This place is amazing," I said, genuinely impressed. "You've really created something special here." Morgan beamed at the compliment. "Thanks. I've always believed that every child deserves a place where they can be themselves, explore, and grow. That's what I try to provide here." As we walked, a little girl with pigtails and a mischievous grin ran up to Morgan, tugging at her hand. "Morgan, Morgan! Look what I made!" She held up a drawing of what looked like a purple dinosaur wearing a tutu. Morgan knelt down, her eyes lighting up with genuine interest. "Wow, Lily! That's incredible. Is that a dancing dinosaur?" Lily nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! She's going to the ballet." Morgan laughed softly. "That's wonderful. I bet she'll be the star of the show." Lily grinned and ran off, her imagination already pulling her in a new direction. I watched the interaction, feeling a warmth spread through me. "You're really good with them," I said. Morgan stood up, her eyes shining. "They make it easy. There's something so pure and honest about kids. They haven't learned to hide their feelings or put up walls. It's refreshing." As we continued our tour, I noticed a door at the end of a hallway, slightly ajar. The room inside was dark, unlike the bright and cheerful spaces we'd seen so far. "What's in there?" I asked, nodding towards the door. Morgan's smile took on a mysterious edge. "That's the quiet room. It's where the kids go when they need a break from all the excitement. It's also where I explore some of my... other interests." I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Other interests?" Morgan leaned in, her voice low. "Remember when I mentioned exploring new fantasies? That room plays a big part in that." I felt a jolt of excitement mixed with curiosity. This woman was full of surprises, and I was eager to uncover more. But before I could ask anything else, a loud crash came from the other room, followed by a chorus of giggles. Morgan laughed, shaking her head. "Sounds like someone's building a fort again. I should go check on them. Feel free to look around more if you like." As she walked away, I couldn't help but feel drawn to that dark room at the end of the hallway. What kind of fantasies did Morgan explore in there? I was dying to find out, but that would have to wait. For now, I was content to soak in the joyful atmosphere of Little Miracles, a place where magic and reality seemed to coexist in harmony. I walked back into the main play area, watching as Morgan helped the kids build a fort out of blankets and chairs. She looked up and caught my eye, smiling warmly. I smiled back, feeling a sense of anticipation. This daycare was more than just a business; it was a labor of love, a testament to Morgan's nurturing spirit. And as I watched her interact with the kids, I knew I wanted to explore more of her world, whatever that might entail. Little did I know, that dark room held secrets that would challenge my perceptions and draw me into a world of desire and discovery. But for now, I was content to be drawn into the magic of Little Miracles, one step at a time. Chapter 3: As Morgan busied herself with the kids in the main play area, I found myself drawn back to that dark, mysterious room at the end of the hallway. The door was still slightly ajar, beckoning me to explore its secrets. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Morgan occupied with a group of giggling children, and decided to take my chance. I slipped into the room, the air inside cool and still. I fumbled along the wall, searching for a light switch. Suddenly, the door clicked shut behind me, enclosing me in total darkness. Before I could react, the lights flicked on, blinding me momentarily. As my vision adjusted, I saw Morgan standing there, holding a wooden paddle. Her expression was stern, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. "You've been a bad boy, Mikey," she said, her voice a mix of reprimand and amusement. Before I could protest, she grabbed me by the arm, her grip surprisingly strong. She led me to a table in the center of the room, which I now realized was equipped with restraints. My heart pounded in my chest as she bent me over, my butt facing her. I felt a rush of adrenaline, a mix of excitement and nervousness. "You shouldn't be exploring rooms that aren't authorized, Mikey," she said, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "That's very naughty of you." With that, she brought the paddle down, smacking it against my butt. I let out a yelp, more from surprise than pain. She spanked me again, each smack punctuated by her playful scolding. The Paddle: "Bad boys need to be disciplined, Mikey," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "You've been very curious, haven't you? Poking your nose where it doesn't belong." I squirmed under her grip, but there was no escaping her playful punishment. The room echoed with the sound of the paddle meeting my flesh, each smack sending a jolt through me. It was a strange sensation, the line between pleasure and pain blurring with each strike. Morgan continued her playful scolding, her voice taking on a singsong quality. "You're just a baby, aren't you? Exploring where you shouldn't be. Well, maybe next time you'll think twice before snooping around." As suddenly as it had begun, the spanking stopped. Morgan released her grip, and I stood up, my face flushed and my heart racing. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "There," she said, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Now you've had a taste of what happens to bad boys who can't follow the rules." Chapter 4: Once I was secured on the table, a primal instinct kicked in, and I tried to break free. "Morgan, please," I begged, my voice trembling as I strained against the restraints. "Please don't diaper me. Don't take my clothes away." The Nursery: The Changing Table: Morgan chuckled, a sound that was both sweet and wicked. "Oh, Mikey," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement and determination. "You don't have a choice, sweetheart. You're going to enjoy being diapered like a baby. I promise you that." She reached for a pair of scissors, the blades glinting in the soft light of the room. I watched in horror as she began to cut away my clothes, the sound of fabric tearing filling the air. I squirmed and bucked, trying futilely to escape, but the restraints held fast. "Please, Morgan," I pleaded, feeling a flush of embarrassment as she stripped me bare. "Don't do this. I can't be naked in front of you." She smiled gently, her eyes never leaving mine as she continued to cut away my clothes. "There's no room for shame here, Mikey," she said softly. "This is about trust, about letting go. You're safe with me." As the last of my clothes fell away, I was left naked and vulnerable, like a baby ready to be diapered. I felt a rush of embarrassment, a hot blush spreading across my cheeks. Morgan paused, her eyes roaming over my naked body, her gaze appreciative and loving. "You're beautiful, Mikey," she said softly, her voice filled with warmth. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about." She reached for a dinosaur-printed diaper, and I felt a surge of panic. "No, Morgan, please," I begged, trying to wriggle away. "Not that. I can't wear that." The Diaper: She laughed, a sound that was both comforting and firm. "Oh, Mikey," she said, shaking her head. "You don't get to make that decision, sweetheart. I'm in charge here, and I say you're wearing this adorable dinosaur diaper." I tried to fight her, bucking and straining against the restraints, but Morgan was undeterred. She gently but firmly lifted my hips, sliding the diaper beneath me. I begged and pleaded, but she didn't care what I had to say. Her touch was gentle and sure as she fastened the diaper around me, securing it tightly in place. As she finished, she leaned down, her face inches from mine. "There you go, sweetheart," she said softly, her voice filled with love. "All diapered and ready to go. You're my baby now, Mikey. And I'm going to take such good care of you." I looked up into her eyes, seeing the warmth and love reflected there, and felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. Despite my embarrassment, despite my struggles, there was a part of me that felt...content. Safe. Loved. And as Morgan smiled down at me, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together. Chapter 5: Morgan stood back, admiring her handiwork as I lay there, now fully diapered and feeling a mix of humiliation and intrigue. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and began to pace around the table, her fingers tracing patterns on the smooth surface. "Now, Mikey," she began, her voice taking on a more authoritative tone. "There are a few rules you should know about. Fifteen, to be exact. These rules will help you understand your new role as my baby. And don't worry, I'll make sure you remember each and every one." I watched her warily, my eyes following her as she moved. "Rules?" I asked, my voice small and uncertain. She nodded, holding up a single finger. "Rule number one: Morgan is always right. You will listen to me and obey me in all things. Understood?" I hesitated, then nodded, feeling a strange flutter in my stomach. A second finger joined the first. "Rule number two: Diapers are the bathroom now. You will use them for all your needs, and I will change you when I see fit." My eyes widened in horror. "Morgan, please—" I started, but she cut me off with a sharp look. "Rule number three," she continued, adding a third finger. "You will ask permission for all things. Want to play with a toy? Ask permission. Want to eat? Ask permission. Want to speak? You get the idea." I swallowed hard, feeling a sense of dread washing over me. Morgan continued, her voice steady and calm as she listed each rule. "Rule number four: No walking. You'll crawl or be carried like a good little baby. Rule number five: You'll drink from a bottle or sippy cup. Rule number six: No swearing or bad language. Rule number seven: Naptime is when I say it is. Rule number eight: You'll eat what I give you, when I give it to you." She paused, looking down at me with a soft smile. "Rule number nine: You will always tell Morgan the truth. Rule number ten: You will not touch your diaper or try to remove it. Rule number eleven: You will not try to escape or leave the daycare. Rule number twelve: You will not harm yourself or others." I listened, my mind reeling as I tried to take in each rule. Morgan's voice was soothing, almost hypnotic, and I found myself nodding along despite the growing unease in my stomach. "Rule number thirteen: You will not hide your feelings from Morgan. Rule number fourteen: You will accept and embrace your role as my baby. And finally, rule number fifteen: You will love and trust Morgan, always." She finished, looking down at me with a warm smile. "And that's it, sweetheart," she said softly. "Those are the rules. Follow them, and we'll get along just fine." I looked up at her, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I felt overwhelmed, scared, and yet...there was a part of me that felt cared for, seen. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within me. Morgan reached out, her hand gently stroking my cheek. "Good boy, Mikey," she murmured. "You're doing so well. I'm proud of you." And with those words, I felt a strange sense of pride, of accomplishment. I was hers, completely and utterly. And as I lay there, diapered and helpless, I knew that this was just the beginning of my new life as Morgan's baby. The rules were clear, the path laid out before me. All I had to do was follow. Chapter 6: Morgan's eyes narrowed as she looked down at me, her expression stern. "Now, Mikey," she began, her voice firm. "You were a bad boy during your diaper change. You argued with Mommy about using your diaper as your potty. Bad boys need to be punished, isn't that right?" I felt a shiver run down my spine as I looked up at her, my eyes wide with apprehension. "Morgan, please—" I started, but she cut me off with a sharp look. "Ah, ah, ah," she chided, wagging her finger. "What did I tell you about asking permission? And it's 'Mommy', not 'Morgan'. You've already earned yourself a punishment. Don't make it worse." With that, she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a nearby chair. She sat down, her grip firm as she tugged me over her lap. I struggled, a wave of panic washing over me as I realized what she intended to do. "Morgan, I mean, Mommy, please don't—" I begged, but she hushed me with a firm pat on my diapered bottom. "Hush now, Mikey," she said, her voice calm and collected. "You're getting fifty good spankings on your diaper bottom. And if you keep squirming, it'll be more." I tried to get free, my heart pounding in my chest, but she held me firmly in place. "That's another fifteen, Mikey," she said, her voice tinged with disappointment. "Now, let's begin." And with that, she started to spank me, her hand landing firmly on my diapered bottom. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I was spanked like a naughty baby, the padding of my diaper doing little to protect me from the sting of her hand. "Say it, Mikey," she commanded, her voice steady and firm. "Say 'I will use my diaper like a good baby'." I hesitated, my cheeks burning with humiliation. She spanked me again, harder this time. "Say it, Mikey," she repeated. "I-I will use my diaper like a good baby," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. She nodded, satisfied. "Again." "I will use my diaper like a good baby," I repeated, my voice louder this time. She continued to spank me, each smack punctuated by a babyish line that she made me repeat. "I am a baby who uses his diaper." "I will ask Mommy to change my diaper when I need it." "I will not argue with Mommy about using my diaper." With each spank, I felt myself sinking deeper into the role she had chosen for me. I was her baby, her little Mikey, and I was being punished for my disobedience. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she finished. I lay there, my diapered bottom stinging and sore, as she gently rubbed my back. "There, there, Mikey," she cooed, her voice soft and soothing. "You took your punishment so well. Mommy's proud of you." I felt a strange sense of pride, of accomplishment, at her words. I had pleased her, had done as she asked. She helped me up, her hands gentle as she steadied me on my feet. She looked down at me, her eyes soft and warm. "Now, Mikey," she said, her voice gentle. "Can you tell Mommy what you've learned today?" I looked up at her, my eyes filled with unshed tears. "I-I will use my diaper like a good baby," I said, my voice small and uncertain. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's right, Mikey," she said, her voice filled with pride. "You're Mommy's good little baby. Now, can you say one more thing for Mommy?" I hesitated, then nodded. "Say 'Mommy, I love you'," she said, her voice soft. I looked up at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "Mommy," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I love you." With that she helped me into my new clothes and plastic pants. And with those words, I felt something shift within me. I was hers, completely and utterly. Her baby, her little Mikey. And as I looked up at her, my eyes filled with love and adoration, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together. Chapter 7: I stood in front of the mirror, my cheeks flushed a bright red as I took in my new attire. The black t-shirt with Blue's Clues cartoons splashed across the front, the shiny blue plastic pants that crinkled loudly with every slight movement—it was all too much. I felt like a oversized toddler, a grotesque parody of childhood. Morgan, however, seemed thrilled. The outfit: "Aww, look at my little baby Mikey," she cooed, clapping her hands together. "All cute and snug in your new outfit. Now, let's get you all settled in your highchair for your yummy food and drinks, okay?" I wanted to protest, to scream and shout and demand to be let go, but something held me back. A strange, twisted sense of curiosity, perhaps, or maybe just the lingering sting of my spanking, reminding me of what happened when I disobeyed. She led me to the kitchen, where a highchair sat waiting. It was larger than a normal highchair, clearly modified to accommodate an adult. I balked at the sight of it, but Morgan was having none of it. With a firm hand, she guided me to the chair and helped me climb in, securing the tray in front of me and locking me in place. I tested the restraints, rattling them slightly, but they held fast. I was stuck. The Highchair: Morgan hummed a cheerful tune as she tied a large bib around my neck, securing it tightly before turning to prepare my food. I watched her warily, my eyes never leaving her as she bustled about the kitchen, gathering ingredients and mixing them together. The bib: She returned with a bowl of mushy, unidentifiable food and a large bottle filled with a clear liquid. She set them down on the tray in front of me, then pulled up a chair for herself, sitting down with an expectant look. "Eat up, Mikey," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "You need to keep up your strength. And drink all of your ba-ba, okay? Mommy made it special, just for you." The food: The Bottle: I eyed the bowl warily, poking at the strange concoction with the spoon she'd given me. It smelled vaguely like oatmeal, but with an underlying tang that I couldn't quite place. The bottle, meanwhile, seemed to be filled with nothing more than water, but something about the way Morgan was looking at me made me wonder if there was more to it than that. As I hesitantly took a bite of the food, Morgan watched me closely, her eyes never leaving my face. I felt a strange sensation in my stomach, a warmth that spread through me, making me feel slightly dizzy. I shook it off, attributing it to nerves, and took a sip from the bottle. The water tasted slightly sweet, with a strange aftertaste that I couldn't quite place. Morgan smiled encouragingly, urging me to drink more. I complied, not wanting to upset her, but with each sip, the strange sensation in my stomach grew stronger. I began to feel cramps, my intestines twisting and churning uncomfortably. I squirmed in my seat, trying to alleviate the discomfort, but it only grew stronger. As I finished the last of the bottle, I realized with a sudden, horrifying clarity what Morgan had done. The food, the drink—they'd been spiked, filled with something designed to make me use my diaper. I looked up at her, my eyes wide with betrayal, but she simply smiled, her eyes filled with a sickening, twisted love. "There, there, Mikey," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "You'll feel better soon, I promise. Just let it happen, okay? Let Mommy take care of you." I felt a wave of panic wash over me as I realized what was about to happen. I had to escape, had to find a way out of this twisted nightmare. But with the tray locked in front of me and the restraints holding me firmly in place, I was trapped, helpless to do anything but wait for the inevitable. As the cramps grew stronger, I knew that I had to act fast. I had to find a way out of this highchair, out of this house, out of this twisted game that Morgan was playing. But with each passing moment, as the pressure in my bowels grew stronger, I knew that time was running out. I had to escape, and I had to do it soon. But how? Chapter 8: As I sat in the highchair, I begged Morgan to let me go potty in the toilet. "Please, Morgan," I pleaded, my voice strained with desperation. "I can't hold it in much longer. Just let me use the bathroom like a normal person." She turned to me, her eyes narrowing as she wagged a disapproving finger. "Now, Mikey, you know better than that. Mommy said you're to use your diaper like a good baby. If you ask again, you'll get another spanking." I squirmed in my seat, the pressure in my bowels building to an unbearable level. I tried to hold it in, to will my body into submission, but it was a losing battle. Morgan watched me, her expression growing more and more irritated as she saw my resistance. "Fine," she snapped, her voice sharp and cold. "If you won't listen to Mommy, then Mommy will make you listen. You will use that diaper like a baby, Mikey. And after your dinner, I'll give you a spanking to remind you who's in charge here." "Please, Morgan," I begged, tears stinging my eyes. "Please, don't make me do this. I can't—I won't—" She cut me off with a harsh laugh, her eyes gleaming with a twisted delight. "You can and you will, Mikey. You're my baby now, and babies use diapers. Now, be a good little boy and let it out. The sooner you do, the sooner we can get on with our night." I shook my head, my body trembling with the effort of holding back. But Morgan was relentless. She stood over me, her eyes boring into mine, her voice a constant, nagging reminder of what she wanted, what she demanded. "Come on, Mikey," she coaxed, her voice a sickening sing-song. "Let it out for Mommy. Let me see my baby boy use his diaper like a good little boy." Chapter 9: I looked up at her, my eyes filled with defiance and desperation. I clenched my muscles tight, trying to hold back the inevitable, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "No, Morgan," I grunted, my voice strained. "I won't do it. I won't use the diaper. You can't make me." Morgan's eyes flashed, her smile fading, replaced by a look of cold determination. "Oh, Mikey," she said, her voice like ice. "You really think you can defy Mommy? You think you can win this battle?" I squirmed in the highchair, my body tense, my muscles cramping with the effort of holding back. I shook my head, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "No," I panted. "You can't make me. I won't." Morgan's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing as she looked down at me. "Fine, Mikey," she said, her voice sharp and cold. "You want to play it that way? Then Mommy will make you go. And then, my dear, you'll get a spanking you'll never forget, right there in your nice, full diaper." She turned away, her heels clicking sharply on the kitchen floor as she walked to the counter. I watched her warily, my heart pounding in my chest as she opened a drawer and pulled out a small, dark bottle. She turned back to me, her eyes glinting with a twisted delight as she held up the bottle, shaking it gently. "You know what this is, Mikey?" she asked, her voice soft and dangerous. "This is Mommy's little helper. A few drops of this in your ba-ba, and you'll be filling that diaper in no time." I shook my head, my eyes wide with horror. "No, Morgan," I begged, my voice trembling. "Please, don't. You can't—" She cut me off with a sharp laugh, her eyes gleaming with a sickening triumph. "Oh, Mikey," she said, her voice a twisted parody of gentle concern. "Mommy can do whatever she wants. And right now, Mommy wants you to use that diaper like a good little baby. And you will, Mikey. One way or another." With that, she unscrewed the cap of the bottle, her eyes never leaving mine as she tipped it over, letting a few drops of the dark liquid fall into my bottle. She swirled it gently, her eyes gleaming with a twisted delight as she watched the liquid mix with the water. I looked up at her, my heart pounding in my chest, my body trembling with a mix of fear and desperation. I knew I had to hold out, had to resist, but as she held the bottle up to my lips, her eyes gleaming with a sickening triumph, I knew that this was one battle I couldn't win. But even so, I wouldn't go down without a fight. I pursed my lips shut, refusing to drink. Morgan simply smiled, pinching my nose until I gasped for air, and she poured the contents down my throat. The twisted game continued, and I was her unwilling pawn, trapped in a highchair, trapped in a body that was quickly betraying me. The liquid burned as it slid down my throat, a bitter, acrid taste that made me want to gag. I tried to spit it out, but Morgan's grip was tight, her fingers pinching my nose, forcing me to swallow. I coughed, my eyes watering as the last of the tainted water slid down my throat. Within seconds, my stomach began to cramp, a sharp, insistent pain that doubled me over in the highchair. I looked up at Morgan, my eyes wide with panic. "What... what did you do to me?" I gasped, my body trembling with the sudden, violent onslaught of discomfort. Morgan smiled, her eyes gleaming with a sickening delight. "Just a little something to help Mommy's baby use his diaper," she cooed, her voice a twisted parody of gentle concern. "It won't be long now, sweetie. Just a few more minutes, and you'll be filling that diaper like a good little baby." I shook my head, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I tried to hold back the inevitable. I squirmed in the highchair, my body tense, my muscles cramping with the effort of maintaining control. "No," I panted. "I won't. I won't do it." Morgan's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with a twisted triumph as she began to coo, her voice a soft, singsong sound that made my stomach churn. "Oh, come on, Mikey," she cooed. "Don't be shy, sweetie. Just let it out. Let Mommy's little baby use his diaper like a good little boy." I shook my head, my body trembling with the effort of holding back. "Please," I begged, my voice trembling. "Please, Morgan, stop. I can't... I can't hold it much longer." Morgan's smile never wavered, her eyes never leaving mine as she began to massage my tummy, her fingers gentle but insistent. "Oh, don't be silly, Mikey," she cooed. "Just relax, sweetie. Just let it out. Let Mommy's little baby use his diaper like he's supposed to." I shook my head, my body trembling, my muscles cramping as I tried to hold back the inevitable. But it was no use. I could feel it coming, a wet, messy betrayal that I couldn't stop. "Please," I begged, my voice a broken whisper. "Please, Morgan, don't make me do this." But Morgan just smiled, her eyes gleaming with a sickening triumph as she continued to coo, her voice a soft, singsong sound that filled my ears, blocking out everything but the inevitable betrayal of my own body. "That's it, Mikey," she cooed. "Just let it out, sweetie. Just let Mommy's little baby use his diaper like a good little boy..." I clenched my fists, my body trembling as I tried to hold back, but it was no use. I could feel it coming, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I looked up at Morgan, my eyes filled with a mix of desperation and defeat as I felt my body betray me, the inevitable mess filling my diaper as Morgan cooed and clapped, her eyes gleaming with a twisted, victorious delight. Chapter 10: With her coos becoming worse, my body gave into release and couldn't stop it. She rubbed my tummy and cooed at me as everything emptied into the diaper. I started to cry, but she just cooed more, her voice a sickeningly sweet symphony to my humiliation. I could feel every release loading into my diaper, the warmth spreading, the mess engulfing me. I couldn't stop pooping, and once it finally came to an end, I felt the pee just release into my diaper, the final insult to my dignity. Morgan's eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as she looked down at me, her baby. "Good baby, Mikey," she cooed, her voice a soft, singsong sound that made my stomach churn. "But you still need to be punished for resisting using it." I looked up at her, my eyes filled with tears, my body trembling with humiliation and defeat. "Please," I begged, my voice a broken whisper. "Please, Morgan, no more. I can't take any more." But Morgan just smiled, her eyes gleaming with a sickening delight as she began to speak to me like a baby. "Oh, come on, Mikey," she cooed. "Don't be silly, sweetie. You know you deserve to be punished, don't you?" I shook my head, my body trembling, but Morgan just smiled, her eyes never leaving mine as she began to speak to me in baby talk, her voice a soft, singsong sound that filled my ears, blocking out everything but my humiliation. "Now, Mikey, repeat after Mommy," she cooed, her eyes gleaming with a twisted delight. "I am a little baby who pooped in his diaper." I shook my head, my body trembling, but Morgan's grip tightened, her fingers pinching my chin, forcing me to look up at her. "Say it, Mikey," she demanded, her voice a soft, singsong sound that belied the steel in her eyes. I took a deep breath, my body trembling as I forced the words out, my voice a broken whisper. "I... I am a little baby who pooped in his diaper." Morgan's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with a twisted triumph as she continued to coo, her voice a soft, singsong sound that filled my ears, blocking out everything but my humiliation. "Good baby, Mikey," she cooed. "Now say, 'I am a little baby who peed in his diaper.'" I took a deep breath, my body trembling as I forced the words out, my voice a broken whisper. "I... I am a little baby who peed in his diaper." Morgan's smile was a sickeningly sweet sight, her eyes gleaming with a twisted triumph as she continued to coo, her voice a soft, singsong sound that filled my ears, blocking out everything but my humiliation. "Good baby, Mikey," she cooed. "Now say, 'I am a little baby who needs to be changed by his Mommy.'" I took a deep breath, my body trembling as I forced the words out, my voice a broken whisper. "I... I am a little baby who needs to be changed by his Mommy." Morgan's smile was a sickeningly sweet sight, her eyes gleaming with a twisted triumph as she looked down at me, her baby. "Good baby, Mikey," she cooed. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, sweetie. Mommy's got a nice, warm bath ready for you." I looked up at her, my eyes filled with tears, my body trembling with humiliation and defeat as she began to undo the straps of the highchair, her eyes never leaving mine, her voice a soft, singsong sound that filled my ears, blocking out everything but my humiliation and the inevitable punishment to come. Chapter 11: Morgan led me by the hand, her grip firm yet gentle, as if she were guiding a toddler taking their first steps. Every time I took a step, I could feel my accident squishing in the diaper, a grim reminder of my humiliation. The smell was overwhelming, a constant assault on my senses, but Morgan didn't seem to mind. She hummed a soft, sweet tune as she led me back to the chair from earlier—the one where she had spanked me. She sat down and put me over her lap, her hand rubbing gentle circles on my back. "Now, Mikey," she cooed, her voice a sickeningly sweet symphony. "It's time for your punishment, sweetie. You get 75 spankings for being such a naughty baby." I whimpered, my body trembling in anticipation of the pain. Morgan's hand came down hard on my diapered bottom, the sound of the impact filling the room. I gasped, my body jerking from the sting. "Count them, Mikey," she demanded, her voice still soft and singsong. "And repeat after me, 'I am a naughty baby who needs to be punished.'" I took a deep breath, my voice shaking as I forced the words out. "O-one. I... I am a naughty baby who needs to be punished." Her hand came down again, another hard spank. I gasped, the words tumbling from my lips. "T-two. I am a naughty baby who needs to be punished." Morgan continued to spank me, her hand coming down in a steady rhythm, each impact sending a jolt of pain through my body. I counted each one, repeating the humiliating words after every spank. The tears streamed down my face, my body trembling with each impact. At spank number 50, Morgan paused, her hand rubbing gentle circles on my back again. "You're doing so well, Mikey," she cooed. "Now, let's change it up a bit. Repeat after me, 'I am a naughty baby who needs his Mommy to spank him.'" I took a deep, shuddering breath, my body aching from the spanking. I forced the words out, my voice broken and defeated. "I... I am a naughty baby who needs his Mommy to spank him." Morgan's hand came down again, another hard spank. I gasped, the count and the words tumbling from my lips. "F-fifty-one. I am a naughty baby who needs his Mommy to spank him." She continued the spanking, her hand coming down in the same steady rhythm. I counted each one, repeating the humiliating words after every spank. My body was a mess of pain and humiliation, my mind a fog of defeat. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the 75th spank came down. I gasped out the count and the words, my body shaking with sobs. Morgan's hand rubbed gentle circles on my back again, her voice soft and soothing. "There, there, Mikey," she cooed. "All done, sweetie. You took your punishment so well. Mommy's proud of you." She helped me up, her eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction as she looked down at me, her baby. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, sweetie," she said, her voice a soft, singsong sound. "Mommy's got a nice, warm bath ready for you." I looked up at her, my eyes filled with tears, my body aching and throbbing. I knew better than to protest, to beg for mercy. I was her baby, her plaything, and she was far from done with me. As she led me to the bathroom, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread, wondering what fresh humiliation awaited me in the bath as the stench of my accident wafted through the air. Chapter 12: The tears still stung my eyes, and the sting of the spanking still throbbed on my bottom. Morgan led me back to the changing table, her grip as gentle as ever, as if she hadn't just turned my ass a fiery red. She lifted me onto the table, her eyes gleaming with that twisted satisfaction as she looked down at my soiled diaper. "Let's get you cleaned up, sweetie," she cooed, her voice a soft, sickeningly sweet symphony. She peeled off the diaper, her nose not even wrinkling at the sight and smell. I looked away, my face burning with humiliation as she wiped me clean, her hands gentle yet firm. She wrapped a fluffy towel around me, her eyes never leaving mine as she lifted me into her arms. I felt like a fucking toddler, carried off to the bathroom, the warm, bubbly water waiting for me. She lowered me into the bath, the warmth enveloping me, the bubbles tickling my skin. Morgan grabbed a soft cloth, soaping it up as she began to wash me. She hummed that same soft, sweet tune, her hands rubbing the cloth over my body, cleaning every inch of me. I sat there, my body aching, my mind a fog of humiliation, as she bathed me like a baby. She lifted me out of the bath, wrapping me back up in the towel. She carried me back to the nursery, laying me down on the changing table. She dried me off, her hands rubbing gently over my skin. She grabbed a booster pad and a safari print diaper, her eyes never leaving mine as she slid the booster pad into the diaper. The Safari Diaper: "So my little baby doesn't have a leak when he sleeps tonight," she said, her voice a soft, singsong sound. She powdered me, the cool powder a stark contrast to the warmth of the bath. She lifted my legs, sliding the thick diaper underneath me, fastening it tightly around my waist. It was way thicker than the one from earlier, the crinkle of the plastic loud and humiliating. I lay there, my body aching, my mind a mess of defeat and humiliation. Morgan leaned down, her lips brushing softly against my forehead. "All clean and ready for bed, sweetie," she cooed, her voice a soft, sickeningly sweet symphony. She lifted me into her arms, carrying me over to the crib. She laid me down, her eyes never leaving mine as she pulled a soft, fluffy blanket over me. I looked up at her, my eyes filled with tears, my body aching and throbbing. I knew better than to protest, to beg for mercy. I was her baby, her plaything, and she was far from done with me. As she turned off the light, the room plunging into darkness, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread, wondering what fresh humiliation awaited me in the morning. As the darkness of the nursery enveloped me, I lay there in the crib, my heart racing and my mind swirling with thoughts of escape. The soft blanket cocooned me, but it felt more like a trap than a comfort. I could still feel the sting of humiliation from earlier, the overwhelming sensation of being utterly powerless. My body ached, but it was the emotional turmoil that truly gnawed at me, a relentless reminder of my situation. I stared at the bars of the crib, a prison of my own making. Thoughts raced through my mind, each one more desperate than the last. If I could just slide the latch down and make a run for it, I could escape this twisted nightmare. I could make it home, back to a life where I had control, where I wasn’t treated like a helpless child. The idea of freedom ignited a flicker of hope within me, a small flame that I clung to as I plotted my escape. Just as I began to gather my resolve, the door creaked open, and Morgan stepped back into the nursery. My heart sank as I caught sight of her. She was holding something in her hands, and I could feel the dread pooling in my stomach. I had barely managed to convince myself that I could escape when she approached the crib with a smile that sent shivers down my spine. “Look what I have for you, sweetie!” she chirped, her voice dripping with that sickly-sweet affection that made my skin crawl. In her hands were a pair of footed pajamas adorned with cheerful Elmo prints and a pair of shiny plastic pants that crinkled as she moved. I felt my heart drop further into my stomach. There was no escaping now. The Plastic Pants: The Feet Pjs: Before I could even voice my protests, she leaned over the crib, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Time to get you all snug and cozy for bed!” she exclaimed. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I lay there, frozen, as she slid the plastic pants over my already thick diaper. The sound of the crinkling fabric filled the air, an unmistakable reminder of my current state. “Such a cute little baby!” Morgan cooed, her fingers dancing over the soft fabric of the pajamas. I squirmed as she pulled them over my legs, zipping them up the back with a swift motion. I felt the fabric hug my body tightly, the snug fit a constant reminder of my helplessness. But it was the gloves that truly sent my heart racing. They were attached to the zipper, preventing me from using my hands to escape or fight back. I was utterly trapped. The gloves: As if sensing my growing panic, Morgan leaned in closer, her face just inches from mine. “Don’t worry, darling. This is all part of the fun! You’ll be safe and sound in your crib, and I’ll be right here to take care of you,” she said, her voice a soothing lullaby that did nothing to calm my racing heart. I wanted to scream, to tell her that I wasn’t her baby, that I didn’t want this, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, a mixture of frustration and despair. With a gentle hand, Morgan turned on the mobile that hung above my crib. The soft, twinkling lights danced across the walls, and a sweet melody began to play, filling the room with a lullaby that felt both enchanting and suffocating. I lay there, my heart pounding in my chest, as the mobile spun slowly above me, casting shadows that flickered like my hopes of escape. “Just relax, baby,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let the music soothe you to sleep.” I could see the satisfaction in her eyes, the way she reveled in my helplessness. It was as if she took pleasure in my despair, and I could feel the weight of her gaze pressing down on me. I turned my head away from her, focusing on the mobile as it spun above me. Each note of the lullaby felt like a cruel reminder of my situation, a melody designed to lull me into submission. I fought against the urge to close my eyes, to give in to the soft embrace of sleep, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The exhaustion from the day weighed heavily on me, and the warmth of the pajamas wrapped around me like a cocoon. “Goodnight, sweetie,” Morgan said, her voice a soft whisper as she leaned down to kiss my forehead. I felt her breath against my skin, and I shivered at the intimacy of the gesture. It was a reminder that I was hers, that I belonged to her in this twisted game. I wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave me alone, but the words felt trapped in my throat. As she stepped back, the nursery fell into a heavy silence, the only sound the gentle lull of the mobile and the soft crinkle of my diaper. I lay there, my heart racing as I fought against the urge to fall asleep. I needed to stay awake, to keep my mind sharp, to remember my plan. If I could just hold on a little longer, I could find a way out. Minutes turned into what felt like hours as I tossed and turned in the crib, the pajamas and plastic pants feeling like a second skin, suffocating and constricting. I could still hear the faint echo of Morgan’s voice in my mind, her sweet coos and gentle reassurances. But I was determined not to let her win. I couldn’t allow myself to become the baby she wanted. Just as I began to drift into a restless sleep, the door creaked open again. My heart raced as I turned to see Morgan standing in the doorway, a shadowy figure against the light from the hallway. She stepped inside, her eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. “Did I hear my little one stirring?” she asked, her voice low and teasing. I felt a jolt of panic surge through me. I had to act fast. I had to find a way to escape. But as she approached the crib, I realized that my time was running out. The moment of freedom I had envisioned was slipping further away, and all I could do was lie there, trapped in a world of her making, waiting for the next move in this twisted game. Chapter 13: As Morgan approached the crib, I could see the silhouette of a bottle in her hand. She wasn't here to just check on me; she had another twisted plan in mind. I wanted to curl up and disappear, but I was trapped in the open, a captive audience to her perverse delight. "I see you're still awake, sweetie," she cooed, her voice grating on my nerves. "Morgan has something to help you sleep tight." She revealed the bottle, filled with a strange, pink liquid. I eyed it warily, knowing that whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Before I could protest, she deftly uncapped the bottle and brought it to my lips. "Drink up, baby," she insisted, tipping the bottle so that the liquid dripped into my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but she held my chin firmly, forcing me to swallow. The medicine had a sickly-sweet taste that made my stomach churn. "What is this?" I demanded, my voice hoarse with exhaustion and fear. Morgan smiled, her eyes glinting with a malicious glee. "Just a little something to help you sleep and... well, you'll see in the morning." Her vagueness sent a shiver down my spine. I wanted to fight back, to demand answers, but the medicine was already taking effect. My limbs felt heavy, and my eyelids began to droop. But Morgan wasn't done yet. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pacifier, the kind meant for babies much younger than the age she was trying to force me into. I shook my head weakly, trying to refuse, but she simply grinned and popped it into my mouth. Before I could spit it out, she had secured it around my head with a fastening strap. I was helpless, utterly at her mercy. "There you go, sweetie," she murmured, her voice dripping with false affection. "Now you look just like a little angel." Through the haze of the medicine, I saw her reach for the top of the crib. With a clicking sound, she locked it in place, ensuring that I couldn't escape even if I managed to fight off the drug-induced sleep. I was well and truly trapped. "Night-night, baby," she sang softly, her voice fading as my eyes grew heavier. I tried to fight it, to keep my wits about me, but it was no use. The medicine pulled me under, and I found myself drifting off to sleep, the pacifier bobbing gently in my mouth. As I succumbed to the darkness, I could have sworn I heard Morgan whisper, "Sweet dreams, my little bedwetter." But I couldn't be sure, not as the world faded away and I was left alone with my dreams, unaware of what the morning would bring. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. It was a warm, inviting light, but it felt wrong in this context. I blinked against the brightness, my mind still foggy from the effects of the pink liquid Morgan had forced upon me. As my eyes adjusted, I realized I was still in the crib, the bars looming around me like the bars of a prison cell. A shiver ran through me as I remembered the events of the previous night. I shifted slightly, and that’s when I felt it—a thick, uncomfortable sensation between my legs. My heart raced as I instinctively reached down, feeling the bulkiness of what I now recognized as a diaper. Panic surged within me. Had I really... wet the bed? My mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of my memory from last night. I couldn’t recall anything after Morgan had forced the medicine on me. Just then, I heard the soft click of the crib’s latch. Morgan appeared, her expression one of feigned sweetness, as if she were a caregiver tending to a child. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” she chirped, her voice dripping with that same tone of false affection that made my skin crawl. “Did you sleep well?” I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, I felt a knot tightening in my stomach as I tried to process the reality of my situation. Morgan approached the crib, her hands reaching toward me. “Let’s get you up, shall we?” With surprising ease, she lifted me from the crib, cradling me in her arms as if I were a toddler. I squirmed, trying to break free, but her grip was firm. “You’re so heavy in the morning, baby,” she teased, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. She set me down on my feet, but I immediately felt unsteady, the thick padding of the diaper throwing off my balance. I looked down in horror, realizing that I was indeed wearing a diaper that felt not only thicker but also strangely warm. My heart sank as the implications of that warmth hit me—had I really lost control while under the influence of the drug? “Let’s get you changed,” Morgan said, her tone now more businesslike. She took my hand, leading me toward a changing table that loomed ominously in the corner of the room. “I know you don’t like this part, but it’s necessary. We can’t have you running around in a soggy diaper, can we?” I wanted to protest, to fight back, but the words caught in my throat. I felt utterly powerless as she guided me to the table. I could feel my cheeks burning with humiliation, and I wanted nothing more than to disappear. “Please, Morgan,” I finally managed to say, my voice trembling. “I don’t want to do this. I can change myself.” Morgan chuckled softly, as if my plea were nothing more than the innocent whine of a toddler. “Oh, sweetie, you’re still too little for that. Now lay down for me, okay?” With a mixture of dread and resignation, I complied, lying back on the changing table. I felt utterly exposed as she unzipped the pajamas I had been wearing, pulling the fabric down to reveal the diaper beneath. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could block out the reality of what was happening. “Let’s see how you did last night,” she said, her fingers probing the diaper. I jolted at the unexpected touch, my body reacting instinctively to the invasion of my personal space. “Hey now, it’s just a check-up,” she soothed, though I could hear the amusement in her voice. “You don’t want to get all fussy on me, do you?” I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to my predicament. “I didn’t do anything,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t wet the bed.” Morgan’s expression turned mock-serious. “Oh, but you did, sweetie. You’re all wet.” She lifted her hand, and I could see the dampness on her fingers. My heart sank further as I processed her words. How could this be happening? When did I lose control? “Let’s get you all cleaned up and into something fresh,” she continued, her tone deceptively gentle. “We have a big day ahead of us.” I shot up, panic flooding my system. “No! I can’t go out like this! Please, Morgan, don’t make me!” My voice cracked, the desperation spilling out of me. The thought of being seen like this—dressed in a diaper, unable to care for myself—was unbearable. Morgan’s eyes sparkled with a mix of delight and authority. “Oh, but you will, Mikey. You’re my little one now, and little ones don’t get to make the big decisions. You just have to trust me.” She pushed me back down gently but firmly, her hands moving with practiced ease as she began to unfasten the diaper. I felt a wave of shame wash over me, my body tensing in resistance. “No, no, no!” I whimpered, but she only shushed me, as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. “Just relax, sweetie. I promise it’ll be over before you know it,” she said, her voice soothing yet commanding. I felt the cool air hit my skin as she removed the wet diaper, and I turned my head away, unable to face the reality of my situation. “See? All clean now,” she said, her tone brightening as she reached for a fresh diaper. “This one will keep you nice and dry for our outing. You wouldn’t want to be uncomfortable while we’re out shopping, would you?” The Diaper: I let out a choked sob, the absurdity of the situation crashing down upon me. I was trapped in a nightmare, one that I couldn’t wake up from. “Please… I don’t want to go out like this…” I pleaded, my voice breaking. Morgan’s eyes softened for a moment, but then her smile returned, wide and unwavering. “Oh, sweetie, you’ll learn to love it. Just think of all the fun we’ll have together. Now, let’s get you dressed for the day!” As she expertly fastened the fresh diaper around me, I felt a mixture of anger and helplessness. I was at her mercy, trapped in a game I never agreed to play. The reality of my situation began to sink in deeper with every passing moment. I was no longer just Mike; I was her baby, and she intended to take me out into the world as such. “No, please…” I whimpered again, but Morgan was already pulling a bright, childish outfit from the nearby dresser. It was a onesie, adorned with cartoon animals, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as she held it up for me to see. The onesie: “Just wait until you see how cute you look in this!” she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. I felt like I was being swallowed by a tidal wave of dread, knowing that I was powerless to stop her from dressing me up like a child. As she pulled the onesie over my head, I felt the fabric envelop me, sealing my fate as her little one. The snap closures at the bottom clicked into place, and I knew that there was no escaping this new reality. I was no longer just a boy; I was her baby, and she was determined to show the world. “Now, let’s get you some shoes and a little hat,” she said, her voice cheerful as she rummaged through the drawers. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the reality of what was happening, but the sound of her laughter and the rustle of fabric was inescapable. Shoes: Hat: I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was to come. I couldn’t let her see how much this affected me. I had to find a way to fight back, to reclaim my identity and escape this twisted game. But for now, I was at the mercy of Morgan, the woman who had turned my world upside down. Chapter 14: The world outside the house seemed impossibly bright and vibrant as Morgan wheeled me out into the open air. The sun was high, casting a warm glow that felt foreign against my skin, a stark contrast to the chill of the humiliation that clung to me. I had been dressed like a toddler, complete with a bright onesie that felt more like a costume than clothing, and now I was being strapped into a stroller that was far too large for any child, let alone an adult. Stroller: “Here we go!” Morgan chirped, her voice filled with a sickening enthusiasm that made my stomach churn. She adjusted the straps around my waist, ensuring I was securely fastened. I squirmed in discomfort, but there was no escaping this. I was trapped, both physically and mentally, in this absurd situation. “Why do they even make strollers this big?” I thought bitterly as I glanced around, my heart pounding with anxiety. The world felt so exposed from this vantage point, where I was seated like some oversized infant. I could see the curious glances from passersby, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Morgan, seemingly oblivious to my turmoil, handed me a brightly colored sippy cup. “Drink up, sweetie! You need to stay hydrated,” she encouraged, her smile wide and genuine. I eyed the cup warily, the rubber spout taunting me. I was thirsty, having not had anything to drink since the night before, but the thought of drinking from a sippy cup made my skin crawl. “Just do it,” I told myself, feeling the weight of defeat settle heavily on my shoulders. I took the cup and lifted it to my lips, the sweet juice flooding my mouth. I could almost hear the mocking laughter of my own mind as I drank, the reality of my situation sinking deeper with every sip. Morgan began to push the stroller, and I could feel the momentum carry us forward. The streets were alive with activity, and I was acutely aware of every person we passed. I felt like a spectacle, a living, breathing exhibit on display for all to see. As we rolled down the sidewalk, I caught glimpses of people’s faces—some looked amused, others confused, and a few even sympathetic. I wanted to sink into the seat and disappear, but that was impossible. I was on display, the unwilling participant in a twisted game that I had never signed up for. Suddenly, a little boy, perhaps around six or seven, approached us with wide eyes filled with curiosity. “Why is he dressed like a baby?” he asked, pointing directly at me. My heart sank further at the realization that I was the subject of his inquiry. Morgan knelt down to his level, her voice dripping with a condescending sweetness. “Oh, he’s just a little one who doesn’t know how to be an adult yet,” she explained, her tone patronizing. I wanted to scream, to tell the boy that I was not a baby, that I was trapped in this nightmare against my will. The boy’s gaze shifted to me, and I could see the gears turning in his mind. “But he looks like he’s about to pee himself!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of concern and amusement. I felt my face heat up in humiliation. “No, I’m not!” I protested weakly, but my words fell flat in the face of the truth. The pressure in my bladder was building, and I could feel the twitching in my legs that the boy had noticed. Morgan, ever the attentive caretaker, smiled at the boy. “Sometimes, little ones like him need a little help with their bodies,” she said, her tone dismissive of my discomfort. “It’s okay; he’ll learn in time.” As if on cue, my body betrayed me. The pressure in my bladder became too much to contain, and I felt a warm rush envelop me. I was wetting myself—just like a baby. The sound of the liquid absorbing into the diaper was impossibly loud in my ears, and I could feel the boy’s eyes on me, wide with fascination. “Oh no, look!” he exclaimed, pointing at me with glee. “He really did pee himself!” I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. My heart raced, and I could feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. Morgan, however, seemed unfazed. She simply chuckled, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “See? It’s just what little ones do. Nothing to be ashamed of!” The boy giggled, and I could hear the laughter of other people nearby. I felt like a complete fool, exposed and vulnerable in my humiliation. I wanted to shout, to fight back against this absurdity, but all I could do was sit there, strapped into the stroller, and let the world witness my degradation. “Let’s get you changed, little one,” Morgan said, her voice soothing as she pushed the stroller forward. The little boy waved goodbye, still giggling as he ran off to join his friends. I wanted to scream at him to stop laughing, to stop pointing, but I was powerless. As we continued down the street, I felt the weight of the diaper pressing against me, a constant reminder of my loss of control. I could feel the stares of strangers, their eyes boring into me as I sat there, a grown man dressed like a child, unable to escape the reality of my situation. Morgan seemed oblivious to my turmoil, her focus solely on getting to our destination. I glanced around, desperately searching for an escape, but there was none. I was trapped in this twisted world that Morgan had created, and I had no idea how to break free. With every turn of the stroller, I felt the walls closing in, my identity slipping further away. I was no longer Mike; I was just a baby, a plaything for Morgan’s amusement. And as we rolled onward, I could only wonder how much further she intended to take me down this path. The stroller wheels rumbled over the pavement as Morgan pushed me towards our destination. The wet diaper clung to my skin, a constant reminder of my humiliation and loss of control. I felt a growing pressure in my bowels, a sensation that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. It was as if my body was no longer my own, my control slipping away with each passing moment. As we approached the store, I looked up to see the sign: "My Inner Baby." A shiver ran down my spine as I realized the implications of the name. Morgan parked the stroller and leaned down to coo at me, "Here we are, sweetie! Let's get you all the supplies you need to be a happy, comfortable baby." She unstrapped me from the stroller, and I waddled awkwardly beside her, the thick diaper making it difficult to walk normally. As we entered the store, a cheerful bell chimed overhead, announcing our arrival. A friendly-looking lady approached us, her eyes flicking from Morgan to me, taking in my disheveled state. "Hello there!" she chirped, her voice gratingly cheerful. "Do you need help sizing your little one up and getting everything you need for him?" Morgan smiled, her hand resting possessively on my shoulder. "Yes, thank you. This is Mikey, and he's just starting his journey as my baby. We need all the essentials to make sure he's comfortable and well-cared for." The lady nodded understandingly, her eyes sparkling with a knowing gleam. "Of course! I'm sure we can find everything you need. Let's start with diapers, shall we?" She led us down an aisle filled with an overwhelming array of diapers. My heart sank as I took in the sheer variety—different sizes, colors, and patterns, each one more humiliating than the last. The lady gestured to a shelf stocked with brightly colored packages. "These are our newest arrivals—the mega thick Dino diapers. They're perfect for little ones who need that extra bit of protection. Plus, they make it harder for little ones to hide their diapers from others." Morgan's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, those are perfect! I'll take six cases of those." I wanted to protest, to scream that I didn't need any of this, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I stood there, helpless and humiliated, as Morgan and the lady discussed my needs as if I weren't even present. The lady nodded, jotting down notes on a pad. "Excellent choice. Now, let's see what else you might need." She led us further down the aisle, pointing out various items—baby wipes, powder, creams, and even a selection of pacifiers and bottles. I felt a growing sense of dread as Morgan enthusiastically agreed to each suggestion, her eyes gleaming with a twisted delight. As we reached the end of the aisle, the lady turned to Morgan with a smile. "And of course, you'll need some outfits to keep your little one looking cute and cozy. We have a great selection of onesies, pajamas, and even some adorable little outfits for when you're out and about." Morgan's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, that sounds wonderful! Let's see what you have." The lady led us to another section of the store, where racks of brightly colored, childish clothing stretched out before us. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as I took in the sight—this was really happening. I was being dressed like a baby, treated like a baby, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. As Morgan and the lady began to sort through the racks, discussing the merits of various outfits, I felt a growing pressure in my bowels. I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to hold back the inevitable, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. I looked up at Morgan, my eyes filled with desperation. "Morgan, please," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I need to use the bathroom. I can't hold it in much longer." Morgan turned to me, her eyes narrowing as she shook her head. "No, sweetie, you know the rules. You use your diaper like a good baby. Now, let's find you some cute outfits, okay?" I felt a wave of panic wash over me as I realized that I couldn't hold it in any longer. The pressure was too great, the need too urgent. I looked around desperately, searching for a way out, but there was none. I was trapped, helpless to do anything but give in to the inevitable. As Morgan and the lady continued to discuss my new wardrobe, I felt my body betray me once again. The warmth spread through my diaper, the mess engulfing me as I stood there, humiliated and defeated. Tears stung my eyes as I realized that I had truly lost all control, that I was now at the mercy of Morgan and her twisted game. The lady glanced over at me, her eyes widening slightly as she took in my state. She turned to Morgan with a knowing smile. "It looks like your little one has had a bit of an accident. Would you like me to show you to the changing area so you can get him all cleaned up?" Morgan smiled, her eyes gleaming with a sickening satisfaction. "That would be wonderful, thank you." As the lady led us towards the changing area, I felt a growing sense of dread. I knew what was coming next—the humiliation of being changed like a baby, the indignity of having my most intimate needs tended to by someone else. But there was no escaping it now. I was Morgan's baby, and she was determined to keep me that way, no matter the cost. As we entered the changing area, the reality of my situation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was trapped in this twisted game, and there was no way out. I could only hope that, somehow, I would find a way to reclaim my identity and escape the clutches of Morgan's perverse desires. But for now, I was her baby, and she was in complete control. Chapter 15: Morgan had me cleaned up and secured tightly in my new thick mega Dino diaper. I looked down at the bright, childish print, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I was naked save for the diaper, my clothes nowhere to be found. Morgan took my hand and led me back to the lady, who was waiting with a warm smile. "He's all set," Morgan chirped, her voice dripping with a sweetness that made my stomach churn. "Do you have any bouncers here? And perhaps something that might help my little one get into a more... suggestible state?" The lady's eyes sparkled with understanding. "Of course! We have a wonderful selection of bouncers right over here." She led us to a display of colorful, oversized chairs, each one more humiliating than the last. She pointed to one shaped like a giant duck, its bright yellow color almost blinding. "This is our most popular model. It's very comfortable and comes with a built-in pacifier dispenser." Morgan clapped her hands together, delighted. "Oh, that's perfect! And what about something to help him... relax?" The lady nodded, leading us to a shelf stocked with various items—stuffed animals, blankets, and even some strange, glowing devices. She picked up a small, fluffy teddy bear with a glowing belly. "This is our Hypno-Bear. It emits a soft, calming glow and plays a gentle lullaby that helps little ones drift off into a deeply suggestible state." Morgan's eyes widened with excitement. "That's amazing! We'll take both." As the lady gathered the items, she turned to Morgan with a business-like gleam in her eyes. "You know, we have a proposal for you. We're always looking for new models for our products, and your little one here is just adorable. If he were to model our diapers for our website and store, we could offer you a lifetime supply of baby essentials—absolutely free." Morgan's face lit up, her eyes gleaming with a mix of greed and delight. "Oh, that sounds wonderful! Mikey would be perfect for that, wouldn't you, sweetie?" She looked down at me, her eyes narrowing slightly, a silent warning in her gaze. I felt a lump form in my throat, the words catching before I could even attempt to protest. I knew I had no choice in the matter, no say in what happened to me. I was Morgan's baby, her plaything, and she was going to use me however she saw fit. "Excellent!" The lady beamed, pulling out a contract and a pen. Morgan signed it without a moment's hesitation, sealing my fate. "We can start right away. Let's get some photos of your little one in our newest diaper styles." Morgan agreed eagerly, and before I knew it, I was posed in the brightly lit photography area, surrounded by props designed to enhance my humiliation. I was made to pose with blocks, with stuffed animals, even with a giant, childish lollipop. Each click of the camera felt like a stab to my dignity, a further descent into the twisted world Morgan had created for me. As I sat there, posed like a baby, the Hypno-Bear clutched in my arms, its glowing belly beginning to work its magic, I felt a wave of despair wash over me. This was my life now—a life of humiliation, of degradation, of being Morgan's baby. And there was nothing I could do to escape it. But even as the despair threatened to consume me, a small spark of defiance burned within me. I wouldn't give up, not yet. Somehow, someway, I would find a way to reclaim my life and escape the clutches of Morgan's twisted desires. But for now, I was her model baby, and I had to play the part. As the final click of the camera echoed through the room, the lady turned to Morgan with a smile. "Those shots are going to be absolutely adorable. Now, we can put him in the nap room with his new Hypno-Bear. He can take a little snooze, and we can capture some sweet photos of him asleep." Morgan's eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and twisted delight. "That sounds perfect. Lead the way." I was led to a small, dimly lit room filled with cribs and soft, plush toys. The walls were painted with murals of cartoon animals in various states of sleep. My stomach churned at the sight, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over me. The lady took the Hypno-Bear from my arms and activated it, the soft glow filling the room as a gentle lullaby began to play. "Now, let's get you all comfy, sweetie," Morgan cooed, lifting me with ease and placing me in one of the oversized cribs. I felt ridiculous, a grown man stuffed into a crib, but there was no use fighting it. I was trapped, both literally and metaphorically, in Morgan's twisted fantasy. As I lay there, the Hypno-Bear's glow illuminating the crib, I felt my eyelids growing heavy. The lullaby was soft, soothing, and despite my best efforts to resist, I felt myself being pulled under its spell. Morgan and the lady loomed over the crib, their faces a mix of excitement and anticipation. The Hypnosis Bear: "He's fighting it," the lady observed, her voice barely a whisper. Morgan nodded, a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "He's a stubborn one, but he'll learn. In time, he'll accept his new life." The words sent a shiver down my spine, a final, desperate attempt to fight the sleep that threatened to consume me. But it was no use. The Hypno-Bear's magic was too strong, and with a final, defeated sigh, I felt myself drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep. As my eyes fluttered closed, I heard the soft click of the camera, capturing my helplessness, my humiliation, in stark, unforgiving detail. But there was nothing I could do, no way to fight it. For now, I was Morgan's baby, her plaything, and she was going to use me however she saw fit. When I finally awoke, the room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the Hypno-Bear. I lay there for a moment, disoriented, before the events of the day came rushing back. I sat up, my head spinning, and looked around the room. I was alone, the other cribs empty, the room eerily silent save for the soft hum of the bear's lullaby. I tried to stand, but my limbs felt heavy, weak, as if the very fight had been drained from me. I collapsed back onto the mattress, a sense of despair washing over me. Was this my life now? Trapped in a crib, a prisoner to Morgan's twisted desires? Just as I was about to succumb to the darkness, I heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. I looked up as Morgan entered the room, her face a picture of maternal concern. "Awake, sweetie? You've been out for hours. The photos are beautiful, by the way. You look like such a sweet, innocent baby when you're asleep." I shuddered at the thought, my stomach churning with revulsion. But I was too weak to protest, too tired to fight. For now, I was at Morgan's mercy, and she knew it. "Come on, sweetie," she cooed, reaching into the crib and lifting me out. "Let's get you home. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow." As she carried me out of the room, I caught a glimpse of the lady, standing in the doorway, a satisfied smile on her face. "We'll make sure all your new baby essentials are delivered directly to your house, Morgan," she said, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness. Morgan beamed at her, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me." And with that, we were off, my fate sealed, my future uncertain. But as I lay there, cradled in Morgan's arms like a helpless infant, I knew one thing for sure—I had to find a way to escape this nightmare. I had to find a way to reclaim my life, my dignity, my very soul. But for now, I was Morgan's baby, and there was no escape from the twisted world she had created for me. Chapter 16: The car ride home was a blur, the streets and houses passing by in a haze as I lay cradled in Morgan's arms, my body still heavy with weakness. Before I knew it, we were pulling into her driveway, the large, imposing house looming before us. Morgan carried me inside, her voice a constant stream of soothing nonsense, as if she were talking to a real baby. She took me straight upstairs, into a room I hadn't seen before. It was a nursery, complete with a large crib, a changing table, and a rocking chair. The walls were painted a soft blue, with more of those damned cartoon animals frolicking across them. I wanted to scream, to fight, to do something, anything, but my body was still too weak. Morgan laid me down in the crib, propping the Hypno-Bear up beside me. "Time for another nap, sweetie," she cooed, activating the bear. The soft glow filled the room, the gentle lullaby beginning to play. But this time, there was something different, something more sinister. As the music played, a voice began to whisper from the bear's speakers, so soft that it was almost imperceptible. "You are a good baby," it whispered, the voice sweet, almost sing-song. "You will use your diapers for everything. Just let it flow out. There is nothing you can do to stop it." I stiffened, my eyes widening in horror. The voice continued, its words sending a shiver of revulsion down my spine. "You are a diaper messer and wetter. You will also wet and poop your diaper in bed. You’re now a bedwetter and messer, and there is nothing you can do to stop it." No. No, no, no. I tried to resist, to fight against the words, but they were insidious, wrapping around my mind like a vice. I could feel my body responding, my bladder suddenly full, a strange pressure in my bowels. "No," I whimpered, my voice barely audible. "No, please..." But the bear continued, its whispers relentless. "Just let it flow out. You can't stop it. You're a good baby, a wet and messy baby." I gritted my teeth, trying to hold on, to fight against the urge to just let go. But the bear's whispers were too strong, too persuasive. I could feel my body betraying me, the warmth spreading through my diaper, the sudden, humiliating release of my bowels. Tears filled my eyes, spilling over and running down my cheeks. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real. But the smell, the warmth, the sheer humiliation of it all told me that it was. I was lying in my own waste, a grown man reduced to a helpless baby, all thanks to Morgan and her twisted games. As the bear's whispers continued, I felt myself drifting off, my body exhausted, my mind broken. The last thing I heard before sleep claimed me was Morgan's voice, soft and sweet, like a mother cooing to her child. "That's it, sweetie," she whispered. "Just let go. Mommy's here. Mommy will always take care of you." The first thing that hit me when I woke up was the smell. It was rancid, a thick, choking fog that made me gag. I tried to move, to escape it, but as I shifted, I felt it. The mushy, warm mess in the back of my diaper. I froze, horror washing over me as the reality of my situation came crashing down. I tried to climb out of the crib, my limbs still shaky and weak, but as I stood, I felt it again. The warmth spreading through my diaper, the release of my bladder, and I couldn't stop it. I stood there, in that soft blue room, the cartoon animals mocking me from the walls, as I pissed myself like a fucking toddler. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real. But the stench, the warmth, the sheer fucking humiliation of it all told me that it was. I was standing there, a grown man, in a fucking diaper, covered in my own piss and shit. Morgan and that fucking bear had broken me. They'd taken away my control, my dignity, my very fucking humanity. I was just an adult baby now, a pathetic, helpless mess. I looked down at myself, at the soggy diaper, the cute little baby outfit, and I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip it all off, to burn it, to purge this nightmare from my life. But I knew I couldn't. I was too weak, too broken. Morgan had made sure of that. So I stood there, in that fucking nursery, in my own filth, and I cried. I cried like a fucking baby, because that's what I was now. That's what Morgan had turned me into. And I didn't know if I'd ever be able to escape this hell. Chapter 17: Weeks had passed since that dreadful morning when I woke up in my own filth. Time had blurred, days merging into nights, and all I knew now was the routine of eating, sleeping, shitting, and pissing. The fights, the struggles, the desperation to escape, they were all distant memories, like echoes of a past life. Morgan walked into the playpen, her nose wrinkling at the smell. But it wasn't disgust on her face, it was... satisfaction. She looked down at me, her eyes soft, her voice even softer. "Oh, my little Mikey," she cooed, "have you made a little accident?" I looked up at her, my pacifier bobbing in my mouth as I giggled. Giggled, But it was like my body, my mind, weren't my own anymore. They were Morgan's, and she'd molded me into exactly what she wanted. Her business was booming. My photos, my videos, they were gold to the those who were into this sort of thing. Morgan would never have to worry about money again, not with her little baby Mikey as her star attraction. She reached down, tickling my chin. "Time for a change, my little baby Mikey," she sang, her voice a sickeningly sweet melody. I gurgled, kicking my chubby legs in the air, my dirty diaper squelching with the movement. Morgan unstrapped the diaper, clucking her tongue at the mess. "Oh, Mikey," she said, laughing, "you've made quite the mess, haven't you?" She cleaned me up, her touch gentle, her eyes loving. It was twisted, but it was my reality now. As she slid a fresh diaper under me, powdering my ass and fastening the tabs, I looked up at her, my eyes wide and trusting. And I knew, in that moment, that Morgan had won. She'd broken me, regressed me, turned me into her baby. And there was no going back.

I am a 23 year old trans woman and I am looking for someone to do forced regression rps. I'm a switch so I can play either role but I especially would like to rp where I am the one being forcefully regressed. I have a few specific roleplay ideas that I will describe below. [Me as little, other as roommate/older sibling] (1) I'm laying in bed rubbing myself to some kink video on my phone with a title along the lines of "(roommate/sibling) diapers and humiliates their pathetic (younger sibling/roommate)" while you're looking through a crack in the door. You burst in to bully me like usual, when you somehow see what video I'm watching, think im some pervert, and decide to punish me somehow. (2) I'm walking down the street at night when a van stops by and I get pulled in. It's then a fairly standard kidnapping story where I get humiliated and diapered by my captor(s) (3) Getting caught wearing pullups to school by a bully/some bullies and a blackmail scenario kicks off. [Me as dom] (1) You wake up in a basement somewhere tied to one of those freestanding showers as I step up and collar you before telling you I'm going to be breaking you in and pulling over a cart with various implements and ofc diapers. (2) I'm some sort of magical girl/witch/just some girl with magic who (if your male) forcefully feminizes and regresses you with my magic wand aswell as my "magic wand" uwu (3) I've tricked you into signing some contract you thought was an agreement to work as a maid/butler in my mansion, but didn't read the fineprint and now you're my little plaything.

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Finding Mommy Ian was an average forty-two-year-old, except for a few things. He didn’t have a car, a wife, kids, a pet, or a house. He had them in the past, but a series of terrible decisions and financial mistakes had finally pushed away everything he held dear. After the storm that had been the previous year, he had returned to live with his mother, who welcomed him begrudgingly into her house. Elena was a ruthless woman with a terrible temperament, perhaps the reason why she had divorced three times in her sixty years of life. “I’m expecting you to pull your own weight, starting by paying rent as soon as possible,” said Elena. "I’m not running a charity here. And you better find another place if you want to receive visits. I don’t want kids or skanks in my home.” “I know, Mom. I’m looking for a job already, I just need some time,” Ian replied, entering his childhood room. It felt as if he had stepped into the past, surrounded by his old toys, stuffed animals, a bed in the shape of a car, and old coloring books. He had left his mom’s home when he was just a boy and had stayed with his father until it was time to go to college. Sadly, his father had passed away, and with no siblings or anyone else to turn to, he found solace in his mother’s house. “You can remove the plastic sheets. But only if you stopped your bedwetting.” Ian blushed, “I don’t wet the bed anymore, Mom.” “Don’t blame me for being cautious. You can redo the room as much as you want, but I hope you don’t if that means you’ll be out of here soon enough,” said Elena, leaving Ian alone in his childhood room. All his life was packed in boxes and suitcases, and he had nothing really to hope for. Perhaps he would get some good news from his job interview, but when the call came, it wasn’t to congratulate him on his new position. No, it was to turn him down for someone younger and better, just like his ex-wife had done. He closed his door and cried a little before unpacking. Chapter One Ian woke up that day with a familiar sense of dread, the same one that had accompanied him since his divorce. Disoriented and still confused about his new environment, he stood up, only to have his heart stop for a second when he realized what had happened. His car-shaped bed was completely soaked, and so were his pajamas. “Ian, Ian. Wake up,” his mother called, knocking at his door. “I don’t want you sleeping in every morning. Get the trash out and make some breakfast. You’ll be cleaning the house until you get a real job.” But Ian couldn’t answer. He was on the brink of despair. The day before, he couldn’t think about anything but the fact that there was nowhere else to fall. He had touched rock bottom and realized he could still fall further. This morning was just it. “Don’t make me come in,” said Elena. Sobbing, he tried to keep his mother out, “It’s okay. I’m awake. I’ll be out in a minute.” He rushed to undo the bed, removing the wet sheets. But then the door opened, and there was no denying what had happened. His mother stood in the doorway, intimidating as she had looked throughout his childhood, her expression of disgust and disappointment evident. “Again?!” she shouted, storming in and pushing his face into the soaked bed. “What’s this?!” “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing he could have freed himself but not daring to do so. “It was an accident,” he managed to reply between sobs. “Am I gonna have to put you back in diapers? Is this why she left you, huh? Because she was tired of waking up to a wet bed?” Ian didn’t know what to say or how to react, and his mother’s grip forced him against the wet patch on his bed. “My goodness. Thank God your father took you away, or I would’ve beaten you every morning until you outgrew this childish behavior. Be a man and clean this mess.” Now crying desperately, Ian took the sheets to the washing machine, walking around in his wet pajamas, hoping it was all a nightmare. Hoping he would soon wake up and be back home with his loving wife and kids, enjoying the perks of a high-paying job. But he closed his eyes and opened them again, and he was still in his mother’s basement, wet and sobbing. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Amelia rested on her bed, tired of doing the same meaningless task every single day. At twenty-two, she was lucky to have her own place and a good-paying job, but even with all her luck, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was missing. She had thought about getting a dog. Maybe feeling needed by a creature that required attention and supervision was just what she needed. Sighing, she decided to keep coding the latest software updates for the company she worked for. If she were honest, she was just lonely. She didn’t have friends, by choice, though. And her recent dating adventures had been major flops. People, at least that’s how she saw it, were getting more stupid and vain with each passing year. She was a good catch. Tall and athletically built with long legs and a strong core. A brunette with blue eyes, her Tinder account was always buzzing with attention from the opposite sex. But attracting a handsome man wasn’t the problem; finding them attractive after they opened their mouths was almost impossible. She looked out her window. The neighbor, an old lady, was shouting again. Amelia couldn’t quite make out what was being said. Nothing too out of the ordinary, though. When the neighbor’s husband was around, it was a shouting match every day. As nasty a woman as they come, she thought before getting ready for the gym. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Ian had very few pleasures in life now. Video games and Netflix weren’t enough to keep his spirits up. He needed something to do. He needed a way out of his mother’s house and back to his old life. Looking down at his wet mattress, hoping his mother was bluffing when she threatened him with diapers, he wished for someone to help him. Someone kind and caring. But his hope was crushed when night came and, in his room, over his car-shaped bed, a package of adult disposable diapers was waiting for him. “I’m not going to hear a word about it.” “But I can’t just wear diapers. I’m not a baby,” Ian tried to defend himself. “You are not a baby? Okay, so tell me, do adults wet their beds?” “I mean, maybe some…” “Not any adults I know. Only babies do that. Not even toddlers. Babies! You can either accept the diapers or go back to the streets.” “But…” “But what? Who will you go to? You’re a pissy pansy with no job, no money, no car, no friends, no nothing.” He was used to her venomous words, but this time, she struck something in him, and without warning, he felt a warm liquid running down his legs. There was silence for a moment, and then his mother burst into laughter so loud, he swore the house shook with it. “You sissy. I knew I should’ve aborted you when I could! Disgraceful excuse for a man. Go on, tell me you don’t need diapers,” she taunted him. “Go on, tell me you’re not a baby, you sissy. How on earth you managed to get a wife in the first place is beyond me.” Ian couldn’t answer. She was right. She grabbed him by the wrist with a grip so strong it reminded him of all the times he had been punished as a child. What followed was something Ian couldn’t have predicted even in his worst nightmares. His mother removed his wet pants and trousers, leaving him standing there, naked from the waist down. “No wonder she left you,” she said, “That’s not much bigger than when you were a kid.” Her words cut deeper than iron as she grabbed a bunch of baby wipes and harshly cleaned his wet crotch. It didn’t take long before he found himself lying over a thick adult diaper, sobbing as his mother mocked him for his incompetence at adulting. And just like that, he had fallen even lower than he thought possible. He looked out the window as his mother taped the diaper after spreading a generous amount of baby powder over his most intimate parts, hoping things could soon change for the better. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

This is my first ever time writing a Story. I have had this idea in my mind for a very long time. I do welcome feedback but please be nice.. The Girls Holiday (Part 1 ) "Welcome Home" was all I heard as I waddled into the house after returning from holiday. There stood my Mother in Law greeting us into the house. She came over to look after the house while we was gone. Emily my GF (Well Ex now) went and gave her a hug "Oh i have so much to tell you", "but first lets show Jake to his new room" i was picked up and carried up to my new awaiting bedroom and I just sobbed at what I saw. Lets rewind a little. My name is Jake and I am 18 Years Old - I suffer from a rare condition called Pygmism, basically my body is developed but I am no taller than a 7 Year old. It does have its advantages of being able to fit into places where normal people cant fit. Being able to fit into kids clothes that are cheaper than Adults but with all Advantages come the negatives of always having to produce my ID to go into anywhere. Some places even deny me entry cause of my height and structure, all my GF friends speaking in context of like I am a child. See I am very independent I can just about reach the kettle to make myself a cup of tea when needed or being able to make a meal when Emily decides to go out for the night. it does wind me up that everyone speak to me as a child "Do you need help hunny" "Can you reach". Emily I met when I was 16 we actually went to school together and decided once leaving to move into a house together, she is very supportive of me and keeps trying to encourage me to do more and more things. I am scared to leave the house for fear of being judged but she tells me to ignore what people think. Emily is very tall (well anyone would be taller than be to be honest) and some would say that she is a bit out of my league. "Honey, I am home" she yells out as she comes through the door kicking off her heels after finishing work at the local office. Sat in the living room as usual playing on the PlayStation I smile, Remember I have my friends coming over tonight to discuss "The Girls Holiday" she keeps calling it. She is soo excited at the prospect of going away that they have been planning it for like 2-3 months. I do not understand why as it is only a rubbish little getaway for 2 weeks down to the local Beach staying in a Caravan (oooo so excited) - Other hand I was more excited at the prospect of staying by myself for 2 weeks with no-one looking after me. See since we met and moved in there has been the odd occasion where she has left me but I have never been left overnight or a period of time by myself, I am unsure why I guess she has never felt the need to go anywhere but finally after 2 Years the day has nearly come. "If you need the toilet Jake then just go" She exclaims while sitting on the couch "I have been watching you jiggling that leg and doing the potty dance for the last 10 minutes". She was right i have been so focused playing on the PlayStation and finishing of the game that I have been holding it in. I guess some would say i have gotten a little Lazy and relaxed with our relationship to how it was before. I suddenly finish off and leg it to the toilet, tracksuit bottoms down I look at my childish pants, Due to my condition I only fit in Kids clothes as mentioned above we do try to get plainest items but you cannot get boxers for a 7 Year old so therefore I have to wear pants instead, I have come to acceptance of what will be will be but still it does get me down a little. While looking down I noticed a small little spot on them, "Oh no I must of dribbled a little" I exclaim, The embarrassing thing is this is not the first time it has happened. Emily got so mad last time and she keeps making comment that my pants smell of wee and maybe we should go to the doctors if it keeps happening, As I flush and get dressed I gulp thinking shall I tell her or not - I exit the toilet and was taken back as she was standing outside, "Jack did you make it in time" she says at me with a look on her face, Thoughts was racing round my head ( Shall I tell her the truth, Shall I Lie?) I snapped back "Of course I am not 5 I know how to go to the stupid toilet" - Suddenly she grabs my trousers and yanks them down, I could only hang my head in shame as I knew what she could see "What on earth is this Jake, A Wet Spot and then you lied about it to me, I am so Angry that you lied to me" " now quick please hurry upstairs have a shower and get dressed my friends are due any moment" "unless of course you would like to discuss your problems of keeping you pants dry to Charlotte, Jessica and Louise" I quickly shake my head now bend over and pull my trousers on and hurry to the top of the stairs. - Just in time I thought as I hear the familiar sound of the doorbell going....

Part 1 Grace is getting married and she’s determined not to let Jessica, her husband-to-be’s ex, ruin the wedding. But if this is her big day, why is she being dressed as the flower girl? *** Grace was walking around the reception, greeting her guests, when she spotted her out of the corner of her eye. Jessica. Grace had invited her out of politeness, but she’d really hoped the woman wouldn’t come. What was she thinking, turning up here? Surely she’d known Grace hadn’t really wanted her to be at her wedding! She was talking with Sophie, one of Grace’s old schoolfriends, and Sophie seemed to be listening raptly to whatever it was she was saying. Grace continued to wander around, accepting congratulations and beaming at everyone, tossing her beautiful blonde hair behind her and feeling like the prettiest woman in the room. Eventually she reached Sophie herself. “Hi, Sophie!” she said. “I’m so glad you could make it!” “Hi sweetie!” Sophie said, turning to look at her. She spoke in an oddly high-pitched, overly-enthusiastic voice, like she was talking to a nursery-schooler. “Are you looking forward to the ceremony?” Grace didn’t know what to say. She’d been expecting Sophie to say ‘congratulations’. Why the hell was she talking in such a stupid way? “Uh, yes!” she managed, deciding it was best to just ignore her friend’s odd behaviour. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long! I hope it’s everything I imagined!” “Awww!” Sophie cooed. Grace felt herself going red. Was Sophie mocking her? “That’s so cute! Are you going to wear a pretty dress, honey?” “Uh, yes of course. I… In fact, I’d better go and get dressed now. It takes a while and I need my bridesmaids to help.” “Of course you do,” Sophie said patronisingly. “Well… See you later, Sophie!” “Bye-bye, cutie!” Sophie waved. Grace turned and walked away. What was that about?! She frowned, thinking. Jessica had been talking to Sophie not long ago. Could she have convinced Sophie to talk to her like that for some reason? Grace hoped the most special day of her life wasn’t going to be tainted by some stupid practical joke. But she couldn’t imagine Sophie taking part of something like that. Sophie had never even liked Jessica! It was probably just nerves, Grace told herself, trying to push the matter from her mind. She needed to get her bridesmaids and go into the back to change into her wedding dress. She felt excitement bubbling up inside her. She’d never really stopped fantasising about the perfect wedding, ever since she was a little girl, and now she was finally getting it! And Rob was the most wonderful man she’d ever met. She flushed at the thought of her gorgeous husband-to-be. She wouldn’t see him until she walked down the aisle though. She wanted everything to be perfect. “Good luck, Gracie!” someone said to her as she made her way through the crowd, and she smiled awkwardly back in the general direction of the voice. She hated being called Gracie – she wasn’t a two-year-old for goodness sake! But nothing was going to ruin her good mood today. She was determined of that. She slipped past a group of guests and found the people she was looking for; Olivia, Caroline, and Annie. Her three bridesmaids. At least the three of them were acting normally. They hurried up to her the moment they saw her, looking almost as excited as she felt. They put their heads together, giggling. “Ready?” asked Olivia, grinning. Grace grinned back and nodded. The four of them moved through the guests and into a room in the back of the venue where Grace could get changed. Her wedding dress was hanging on a clothes rack waiting for her. She beamed at it. It was beautiful – pure white, of course, with a floral-patterned bodice and a flowing, floor-length skirt. Elegant and sophisticated, sexy but still classy. The perfect dress. Grace would barely contain her excitement as Olivia, Caroline, and Annie helped her change into it. She couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror in front of her as she was steadily transformed into the bride she’d dreamed about being ever since she was a little girl. She was almost done when Caroline suddenly said “Oh!” “What?” Grace asked, worried something had gone wrong. “Your veil! I think your mother has it. Or maybe it’s still in the car…” “Don’t panic,” Olivia soothed, seeing Grace’s face. “The three of us will go and look for it. I’m sure it’s around. We’ll be right back.” Her bridesmaids left the room, leaving Grace alone. But a few moments later, the door opened, and Jessica stepped inside. “Hi sweetie!” she said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hello Jessica,” said Grace, looking at her warily. “Don’t you look pretty!” Jessica cooed, but her eyes were sparkling malevolently. “Looking forward to walking down the aisle?” “Listen Jessica,” said Grace firmly, “whatever it is you’re here for, whatever you’ve got planned…” “Planned?” asked Jessica, cocking her head. “I just don’t want you ruining things by trying to make this all about you,” Grace said coldly. “This is a very special day for me.” “Of course it is, Gracie,” Jessica said. Her smile widened. “The wedding couldn’t happen without you!” She let out a light, tinkling laugh, and then she turned and left the room. Grace scowled. Gracie again. And she didn’t like the way Jessica had been smiling. Did she really not have anything planned? They’d been friends once, but Grace had got together with Rob shortly after he’d broken up with Jessica, and Jessica hadn’t liked that one bit. Grace remembered Jessica screaming at her, calling her a big-titted whore who’d stolen her boyfriend. Grace adjusted her large breasts in her wedding dress. It was true she had a better figure than Jessica, but she hardly thought that mattered. She and Rob had been meant for each other, and that was all there was to it. What else was it that Jessica had said to her? Stupid little girls shouldn’t steal other people’s things, that was it. Grace smirked. Rob was hers now anyway. They were getting married and there was nothing Jessica could do about it. She’d only been invited in the first place because it would have seemed rude not to invite her after Grace had invited all her other old friends – it would make it seem like she was the one still carrying a grudge. Grace shook her head. What was she doing? She shouldn’t even be thinking about Jessica right now. Not on her big day! She admired herself in the mirror, picturing how she’d look walking smoothly down the aisle on the best day of her life. Minutes past, and her bridesmaids still hadn’t returned. But just when Grace was starting to get worried, the door opened again. She look around eagerly as Olivia and Caroline stepped into the room, but her smile faltered when they were closely followed not by Annie, but by Jessica. She was holding something white and semi-transparent in her arms. Was that stupid bitch carrying her veil?! Hadn’t she got the message that she wasn’t wanted? But as Jessica stepped forward, Grace realised the thing she was holding wasn’t a veil at all. It was a dress. A very different dress from the beautiful, elegant, sophisticated wedding dress she was currently wearing. “What’s going on?” asked Grace. She’d just noticed that her two bridesmaids were looking at her rather strangely. They were both smiling, but Olivia was shaking her head from side to side, like a kindergarten teacher amused by the antics of a misbehaving toddler, and Caroline was looking at her with the same sort of sickeningly sweet eagerness that Grace had seen earlier on Sophie’s face. “What are you…?” “Come on, sweetie,” Jessica interrupted, and her eyes were glinting darkly. “It’s time to get you into your proper clothes. That’s enough playing pretend. I need my wedding dress for my big day.” She smiled broadly. “But don’t worry. I’ve found something much more appropriate for you to wear!”

Hello there, I was kind of bored and wanted to try out if ChatGPT could write a little story for me and if it would write it decent. It's not very long and lacks in depth, but I thought I share it with you anyway. Maybe you still like it. It's not finished and mistakes in logic can be there, but here is what I got. Maybe I will edit it some day and make it more believable. I would write the story completely by myself, but the lack of talent and time makes this kind of impossible for me. Chapter 1: The soft hum of the car engine filled the air, but it did nothing to soothe Emily’s growing sense of dread. Her gaze was locked on the scenery passing by — streets, trees, and houses she had seen countless times before — but today, they all blurred together as her thoughts swirled in anxious circles. She had known this day was coming, but that hadn’t made it any easier. “It’s just for a few weeks, honey,” her mother said from the front seat, her voice light and encouraging. “Nanny Rose is very nice. You’ll be fine.” Emily’s stomach churned. At nineteen years old, the last thing she wanted was to be left with a nanny, especially one who cared for toddlers. But her parents had insisted. Her condition, turner syndrome, left her at a height of just 3’8” and with a youthful appearance that made people mistake her for a small child constantly. While that was frustrating on a normal day, this felt like a whole new level of humiliation. “I can take care of myself,” Emily muttered, though her words lacked the conviction they once had. She’d said it before, and it hadn’t changed anything. Her father, who was driving, glanced at her briefly in the rearview mirror, his eyes calm but resolute. “We know you can, Em. But Nanny Rose is just there to keep you safe. It’s not about what you can or can’t do. It’s just a precaution.” “Precaution,” Emily echoed bitterly under her breath. That word felt like a permanent fixture in her life. Every decision her parents made for her seemed to be about keeping her safe, as though she were fragile. Nineteen years old, yet still treated like a helpless child. No matter how much she fought it, they never listened. Her mother added, “We’ve spoken to her about your condition. She understands, and she’ll take good care of you while we’re away.” But that was exactly what Emily was afraid of. Nanny Rose didn’t just take care of children — she looked after toddlers. Emily was terrified of being treated like one of them, and deep down, she suspected that’s exactly what was going to happen. As the car pulled up in front of Nanny Rose’s house, Emily felt her heart sink. The house was quaint and welcoming from the outside, painted a soft yellow with white trim and a perfectly manicured garden. It looked like something out of a storybook, but to Emily, it might as well have been a prison. The front door opened before they could even get out of the car, and there stood Nanny Rose. She was tall — incredibly tall — easily over six feet, with a broad frame and a warm, round face. Her silver hair was neatly tied back in a bun, and she wore a floral apron over her dress. Her smile was wide and welcoming, but Emily could already see the way Nanny Rose’s eyes softened when they settled on her, like she was looking at a small child. “Oh, look at this precious little one!” Nanny Rose exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth as she stepped forward. Her voice was the kind of tone you’d use to talk to a toddler, and Emily immediately cringed. Her parents exchanged pleasantries with Nanny Rose, going over some last-minute details. Emily’s mind wandered, her gaze flicking between the house, Nanny Rose’s towering frame, and her parents. Everything felt like it was happening too fast, too suddenly. Before she could process it, her mother gave her a quick hug, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “Be good, Em,” her father said, giving her a brief smile before climbing back into the car. And just like that, they were gone. The car disappeared down the street, leaving Emily standing alone with Nanny Rose, who was still smiling brightly at her. “Well, come on in, sweetheart,” Nanny Rose said, reaching out and taking Emily’s hand gently. Her large hand completely engulfed Emily’s much smaller one, and the contrast between them made Emily feel even smaller than she already did. Instinctively, Emily wanted to pull her hand away, but Nanny Rose’s grip, though gentle, was firm enough to keep her in place. She found herself being led inside the house, her feet dragging slightly as dread weighed her down. The house was every bit as cheerful and childlike as Emily had feared. The living room was bathed in soft pastel colors — yellows, pinks, and blues — with plush furniture that looked far too large for her to sit in comfortably. Toys were scattered around the floor: building blocks, stuffed animals, and colorful picture books. In the corner of the room, Emily spotted a large playpen, filled with even more toys and pillows. Nanny Rose didn’t seem to notice Emily’s discomfort as she guided her through the house. “Let me show you around, little one,” Nanny Rose said, her voice chipper as she led Emily through the bright space. Emily’s heart sank further with each room they entered. First, the kitchen, where a small plastic table and chairs were set up, clearly designed for toddlers. On the table was a plate of cut-up apple slices and a juice box. “I have a snack ready for you when you’re settled in,” Nanny Rose said, beaming down at Emily. “A little something to keep you going.” Emily didn’t respond. She wasn’t hungry, and the idea of sitting at a table meant for toddlers only added to the feeling of being out of place — of being forced into a role she didn’t belong in. Next, they passed by the bathroom. Emily eyed the door handle, which was much too high for her to reach without help. She swallowed nervously, knowing she’d need to ask Nanny Rose every time she needed to use it. But Nanny Rose didn’t pause at the bathroom. She simply continued down the hall, giving Emily a quick tour of the house. “And here we are!” Nanny Rose said as they reached a bright bedroom. The walls were painted a soft yellow, and a small bed — not quite a crib, but certainly not a normal bed for someone Emily’s age — was nestled against one wall. The bedding was covered in cartoon animals, and shelves lined the room, stacked with books and toys. The entire room looked like it had been designed for a toddler. “This is your room,” Nanny Rose said, smiling down at her. “Isn’t it cozy?” Emily stood there, her stomach twisting into tight knots. Cozy wasn’t the word she would have used. The room felt like a trap, a constant reminder of how small and powerless she felt here. Nanny Rose didn’t seem to notice Emily’s discomfort. She was already moving on, taking Emily’s hand again and guiding her back toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you that snack, darling. I’m sure you’re hungry after your long trip.” Emily followed reluctantly, her feet dragging. The kitchen felt even more intimidating now that she knew what was coming. Nanny Rose gestured for her to sit at the small plastic table, and Emily did so hesitantly. The chair was low, forcing her knees up awkwardly, and the table felt too small even for her. “There you go,” Nanny Rose said, placing the plate of apple slices and the juice box in front of her. “Eat up, sweetheart. You need your energy.” Emily stared down at the food, her appetite completely gone. She wasn’t a child, but the way Nanny Rose spoke to her made her feel like one — like she didn’t have a choice. She picked up an apple slice and nibbled at it half-heartedly, knowing it wouldn’t change anything. As she sat there, awkwardly eating her apple slices, Emily began to feel a different kind of discomfort — the kind she couldn’t ignore. The juice she had sipped earlier had caught up with her, and she could feel the growing pressure in her bladder. She shifted in her seat, glancing nervously toward the bathroom. The door was closed, and she knew there was no way she could reach the handle on her own. Emily swallowed hard, the embarrassment already starting to creep up her spine. She’d have to ask Nanny Rose for help. But how was she supposed to do that? Nanny Rose hadn’t even mentioned the bathroom. In fact, she seemed to assume Emily didn’t need it at all. Reluctantly, Emily stood up from the small chair and approached Nanny Rose, who was busy wiping down the kitchen counters. “Um… Nanny Rose?” she said quietly, her cheeks already flushed. “I need to… use the bathroom.” Nanny Rose didn’t even turn around. She kept cleaning the counter, her voice still light and cheerful. “That’s alright, sweetheart. You just go in your pants, and I’ll change your diaper later.” Emily froze, her face flushing red with shock. “What?” she stammered, unable to process what she had just heard. “I’m not wearing a diaper! I need the bathroom!” Nanny Rose finally turned to look at her, her smile warm and unbothered, as if Emily had said something funny. “Oh, darling, it’s alright. You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll change you later.” Emily’s heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Nanny Rose thought she was already wearing a diaper, and no matter how much Emily tried to explain, it didn’t seem like Nanny Rose was listening. “I’m not wearing a diaper!” Emily said again, her voice rising in panic. “I need the bathroom, please!” But Nanny Rose just gave her a gentle pat on the head, smiling down at her with the same sweet, patronizing tone. “There, there, darling. Don’t worry yourself. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of it.” Emily stood there, frozen, as the realization washed over her. Nanny Rose wasn’t going to help her. She genuinely believed that Emily was wearing a diaper, and no amount of pleading or reasoning was going to change that. The pressure in Emily’s bladder was growing more unbearable by the second. She couldn’t believe she was in this situation, being told to wet herself like a toddler. But there was no escape — the bathroom door was too high, and Nanny Rose wasn’t listening. Feeling utterly helpless, Emily returned to the small chair, her heart racing. She pressed her thighs together tightly, trying to hold it in, but the panic was building. She couldn’t let herself have an accident. Not like this. Minutes passed, and Emily’s desperation only grew. Her legs trembled as she squeezed them together, her body fighting to maintain control. She bit her lip, trying not to cry, but the pressure was becoming too much. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold it. Finally, with her heart pounding in her chest, Emily stood up again and hurried over to Nanny Rose, practically bouncing on her toes with desperation. “Please,” she begged, her voice shaky. “I really need to go to the bathroom. I’m not wearing a diaper, I promise!” Nanny Rose raised an eyebrow, finally pausing her cleaning to look at Emily. “Oh dear,” she said softly, kneeling down to Emily’s level. “Let’s just check, shall we?” Before Emily could respond, Nanny Rose’s hands were at her waistband, feeling for the diaper that wasn’t there. When she realized Emily was telling the truth, Nanny Rose’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, aren’t you a big girl,” Nanny Rose said, her tone light and slightly amused. “No diaper at all.” Emily’s face burned with humiliation, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. The urgency of her need to go was overwhelming. “Please,” Emily said again, her voice tight with desperation. Nanny Rose finally nodded and unlocked the bathroom door. “Alright, alright, little one. Let’s get you to the potty.” Emily rushed inside the bathroom, barely making it in time as she relieved herself with a mixture of shame and relief. The whole experience had been humiliating beyond belief, but at least she hadn’t had an accident. When she was done, she washed her hands and returned to the kitchen, still feeling shaken. Nanny Rose was waiting for her with that same cheerful smile. “There we go!” Nanny Rose said, beaming. “Such a big girl, using the potty all by yourself!” Emily didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her face was still flushed from the embarrassment of what had just happened. She sat back down at the small table, her heart heavy with dread. Chapter 2: The late midday sun cast warm streaks of light through the windows, but for Emily, the brightness of the house didn’t match the growing knot of discomfort in her chest. After returning from the bathroom, she had tried to find some comfort in the quiet of her room, but the childlike decor only made her feel more out of place. She wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to be treated like this — yet here she was. The sounds of Nanny Rose moving about the house floated faintly down the hall. Pots clanked in the kitchen, cupboards opened and shut, and there was always that soft, constant humming that seemed to accompany Nanny Rose wherever she went. Emily’s stomach still churned with embarrassment over what had happened earlier, the way Nanny Rose had so casually assumed she was in a diaper, the way she had so calmly suggested that Emily could simply “go in her pants.” It was unthinkable. As the minutes ticked by, Emily couldn’t help but feel the weight of the day pressing down on her. It was getting late in the afternoon now, and the sun’s position had begun to shift. It was that time of day when the air seemed to still, the world outside growing a little quieter as the afternoon slowly bled into early evening. But for Emily, there was no peace in the quiet. There was only the gnawing feeling that she was trapped in a place where she didn’t belong. Her bedroom, despite its bright walls and cheerful toys, felt more like a reminder of how small she was in this house, how powerless she was under Nanny Rose’s care. Emily wandered over to the window and looked outside. The garden in front of the house was neat and perfectly manicured, with colorful flowers that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Everything about this place was so… controlled. So organized. It was like living in a dollhouse where everything had its place, including her. She sighed, turning away from the window. What was she supposed to do for the rest of the day? It wasn’t like she could just go outside, not without asking for permission. And after what had happened earlier, she didn’t want to have to face Nanny Rose again, at least not for a while. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Before Emily could say anything, the door creaked open, and Nanny Rose appeared, her tall frame filling the doorway. “Hello, sweetheart,” Nanny Rose said, her voice as bright and cheery as ever. “How are you doing? Getting comfortable?” Emily shifted on her feet, feeling awkward. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, though the words didn’t come out as convincingly as she would’ve liked. Nanny Rose smiled, stepping further into the room. She glanced around as if inspecting the space, making sure everything was in order. “I was just thinking,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Since it’s been such a long day, how about we have a little quiet time? You can come sit in the living room with me, and we’ll find something nice and calm to do. Maybe some coloring or a story.” Emily’s heart sank at the suggestion. It wasn’t that she was against the idea of quiet time, but the way Nanny Rose framed it — as though she were speaking to a child — made Emily’s skin prickle with discomfort. Coloring? A story? It was like Nanny Rose couldn’t even comprehend that Emily might want to do something more suited to her real age. “I’m really fine,” Emily said, trying to sound polite but firm. “I don’t really need quiet time. I can just stay here.” Nanny Rose chuckled softly, as if Emily had said something cute. “Oh, sweetie, everyone needs a bit of quiet time in the afternoon. It’s good to rest and recharge, especially after such a busy morning.” Emily bit her lip, her mind racing for a way out of the conversation. She hadn’t even done anything strenuous that morning. What Nanny Rose had perceived as a “busy morning” was just a series of awkward encounters that left Emily feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable. The last thing she wanted was to sit in the living room being treated like a child again. But Nanny Rose didn’t seem to be waiting for her to agree. She reached out her hand, that large hand that seemed so overpowering in contrast to Emily’s small frame, and smiled down at her. “Come on, dear. Let’s go get settled.” Emily hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly took Nanny Rose’s hand. The woman’s grip was gentle but firm, and as Emily was led out of the room, she felt like she was being guided more than willingly walking alongside her. The living room felt even more stifling now, the pastel colors and childish decor making Emily feel out of place. Nanny Rose led her to the couch, a large, overstuffed thing that dwarfed her the moment she sat down. Nanny Rose moved to a nearby shelf and pulled down a coloring book and a box of crayons. “Here we are,” Nanny Rose said, placing them on the small coffee table in front of Emily. “Why don’t you color for a bit while I finish up in the kitchen? It’s always good to have a little fun during quiet time.” Emily stared down at the coloring book. The cover was bright and colorful, featuring cartoon animals frolicking in a meadow. It was the kind of book you’d give to a five-year-old, not a nineteen-year-old. Her fingers hovered over the box of crayons, but she didn’t reach for them. What was she supposed to do with this? Sit and color like a toddler while Nanny Rose continued to treat her like one? “I don’t really…” Emily started to protest, but Nanny Rose was already walking back toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right back, darling,” Nanny Rose called over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she disappeared from view. “You just relax and color, alright?” Emily sat there in silence, staring at the crayons and the coloring book. The house was quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes in the distance. The sun had shifted again, casting long shadows across the room. She felt ridiculous, sitting there with a child’s coloring book in front of her, as if she was supposed to play along with the role Nanny Rose had assigned her. After a few moments, Emily stood up, abandoning the coloring book. She wandered over to the window, leaning against the sill as she gazed outside. The air had that lazy, golden quality that came in the later hours of the afternoon, when the day seemed to slow down and the shadows grew longer. She could see a bird hopping through the flower beds, and beyond that, the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. It looked so peaceful out there, so different from the tension she felt inside the house. If only she could slip outside, escape the bubble that Nanny Rose had created for her. She could almost imagine herself wandering through the garden, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, breathing in the fresh air. But that wasn’t an option. Not without asking for permission, and not without Nanny Rose hovering over her. She sighed, turning away from the window. She didn’t want to admit it, but the day was dragging on, and she was starting to feel restless. The lack of control over her own life was suffocating, and the longer she spent here, the more she felt her sense of independence slipping away. Emily glanced down the hall, listening to the distant sounds of Nanny Rose moving about. It was nearing late afternoon now, and the house felt strangely quiet. Too quiet. The kind of stillness that made the ticking of the clock on the wall seem louder than it actually was. Just as she was considering sneaking back to her room to escape the awkward quiet, Nanny Rose appeared again, her tall frame filling the doorway. Her apron was still tied around her waist, and she wiped her hands on a dish towel as she walked into the living room. “Well, how are we doing here?” she asked, her voice light as she looked toward the abandoned coloring book. Emily forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I wasn’t really in the mood to color.” Nanny Rose raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem too concerned. “That’s alright, sweetie. Sometimes it’s just nice to have a little quiet time.” There was that phrase again. Emily bit back the urge to snap. She wasn’t a child who needed a set quiet time. But before she could say anything, Nanny Rose moved toward her, her expression softening. “Let’s go ahead and get you a bit more comfortable for the evening, alright?” Nanny Rose said, her voice sweet but commanding. “I think it’s time we got you into something cozy.” Emily frowned, her heart rate picking up. She didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, standing up from the couch. “I don’t need to change or anything.” But Nanny Rose was already heading toward the hallway, beckoning for Emily to follow. “Come along, dear. I’ve got just the thing for you.” Emily’s stomach twisted with unease, but she knew there was no point in arguing. Reluctantly, she followed Nanny Rose down the hall, her steps slow and hesitant. When they reached her room, Nanny Rose opened the door and gestured for Emily to go inside. Emily’s heart sank when she saw what was waiting for her — laid out on the bed was a set of soft, footed pajamas, the kind a toddler might wear. They were pale pink, with a zipper that ran up the back. “I thought you’d be more comfortable in this,” Nanny Rose said with a smile, standing behind her. “It’ll keep you warm, and it’s perfect for settling in before bedtime.” Emily’s mouth went dry. “I don’t need… that,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not cold.” But Nanny Rose wasn’t having it. She stepped forward, her large hands resting on Emily’s shoulders as she guided her toward the bed. “Oh, sweetheart, there’s no need to be fussy. It’s just for the evening. We’ll get you all cozy and snug, and then you’ll be ready for bed before you know it.” Emily wanted to argue, wanted to tell Nanny Rose that she wasn’t a child, that she didn’t need to be put in pajamas like this. But the words caught in her throat, and the next thing she knew, she was being gently but firmly steered toward the bed. The pajamas rustled as Nanny Rose picked them up, holding them out for Emily to step into. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she felt trapped, cornered by Nanny Rose’s overwhelming presence. Before she could fully process what was happening, Nanny Rose was helping her into the pajamas, zipping them up the back. The soft fabric hugged her tightly, and the feeling of being enclosed in the footed sleeper made her feel even more powerless. Even more like the toddler Nanny Rose seemed to believe she was. “There we go,” Nanny Rose cooed, patting Emily on the head as if she had just done something adorable. “Now, don’t you feel better already?” Emily didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She felt like she was shrinking inside herself, each moment eroding more of her sense of identity. As she stood there, wrapped in the soft, confining pajamas, she realized how little control she had over her own life in this house. Chapter 3: The soft evening light cast long shadows across the living room as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Emily sat awkwardly on the couch beside Nanny Rose, the thick, footed pajamas uncomfortably warm against her skin. She shifted in her seat, her eyes flicking to the TV, but her mind was elsewhere, stuck on the humiliating events of the day. Her new outfit — pale pink with a zipper running up the back — felt childish and restrictive, reminding her with every movement that she wasn’t in control here. Nanny Rose had insisted they watch TV together before bedtime, and now the screen played some lighthearted family show, its cheerful music filling the room. For Nanny Rose, it seemed like the perfect way to wind down for the evening. But for Emily, it was another reminder of how much this situation felt like a trap. Every glance at Nanny Rose, every time she felt the warmth of the pajama fabric press against her skin, was another reminder that she wasn’t being treated like an adult. As the minutes ticked by, a familiar discomfort began to settle in Emily’s abdomen. She needed to pee again. The juice from earlier hadn’t sat quietly, and now her bladder was making its demands known. The realization sent a wave of anxiety through her. She didn’t want to have to ask Nanny Rose for help again, not after what had happened earlier, but there was no way she could reach the bathroom by herself, not in this house, not in these pajamas. Emily tried to focus on the TV, hoping to distract herself, but the urge was becoming harder to ignore. She squirmed slightly in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Her eyes flicked over to Nanny Rose, who was seated beside her, smiling serenely as she watched the show. Finally, Emily couldn’t hold back any longer. “Um, Nanny Rose?” she asked softly, glancing up at the tall woman. “I… I need to use the bathroom.” Nanny Rose turned her head, her expression calm and patient. “Oh, sweetheart, in this house, we call it the potty,” she corrected gently, her voice soothing. “That’s what all my little ones call it.” Emily’s face flushed slightly with embarrassment. The potty? She was nineteen years old, not a toddler. The very idea of calling it that made her stomach churn, but she didn’t want to argue. She just needed to go. “Okay…” Emily hesitated, biting her lip. “Can I use the… potty?” Nanny Rose smiled, her large hand resting gently on Emily’s knee. “Well, dear, let’s just wait until the commercials come on, alright? It won’t be long now.” Emily blinked, surprised by the response. Wait? Her bladder was already nagging her, and waiting didn’t seem like a good idea. But Nanny Rose’s tone left little room for negotiation. Emily swallowed her frustration and nodded reluctantly. “Okay…” The minutes dragged on as the TV show continued, each scene feeling longer than the last. Emily could feel the pressure in her bladder growing, her body tensing as she tried to hold it in. She shifted in her seat again, squeezing her thighs together, doing everything she could to distract herself from the need to go. Her eyes flicked toward the TV, waiting for the commercials, praying they would come soon. Finally, the screen faded to black, and the familiar jingle of a commercial break began. Emily’s heart raced as she turned to Nanny Rose, her voice strained with urgency. “The commercials are on now. Can I go to the potty?” Nanny Rose smiled warmly, her eyes softening as she looked down at Emily. “Oh, you’ve been such a good girl, holding it in like that!” she praised, her voice dripping with that same condescending sweetness. “I’m so proud of you for waiting. That’s what big girls do when they’re learning to use the potty.” Emily’s face burned with embarrassment. She hadn’t been “waiting” because she was trying to prove something; she had been forced to. But the way Nanny Rose spoke to her, as if she was praising a toddler for holding it in during potty training, made Emily feel even smaller. Still, the pressure in her bladder was unbearable now, and she couldn’t waste any more time. “Can I go now?” she asked, her voice tense. Nanny Rose chuckled softly. “Of course, darling. Let’s get you to the potty.” Nanny Rose stood and made her way toward the hallway, motioning for Emily to follow. Emily hurried after her, her feet shuffling slightly in the soft footed pajamas. When they reached the bathroom, Nanny Rose opened the door and gestured for Emily to go inside. But as Emily stepped into the bathroom, her heart sank. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. The zipper on her pajamas ran all the way up the back, making it impossible for her to take them off by herself. She stared at the mirror, panic bubbling in her chest as she realized there was no way she could undress on her own. She hesitated, biting her lip. The last thing she wanted was to ask Nanny Rose for help again, especially after everything that had already happened. But there was no other choice. “Nanny Rose?” Emily called out softly, her voice small as she stepped out of the bathroom and looked up at the tall woman. “I… I can’t get my pajamas off.” Nanny Rose smiled knowingly, as if she had been expecting this. “Oh, dear. I see.” She stepped closer, her large frame casting a shadow over Emily as she leaned down slightly. “Do you need some help, sweetheart?” Emily’s cheeks flushed. She didn’t want to admit it, but she had no other option. “Yes… I can’t reach the zipper.” Nanny Rose chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “Oh, you poor thing. You should’ve asked sooner.” She reached out and gently turned Emily around, her large hands effortlessly tugging the zipper down. “There we go. See? It’s not so hard when you ask for help,” Nanny Rose said softly, her hands brushing lightly against Emily’s back as she unzipped the pajamas. “Next time, don’t be shy, alright? That’s what I’m here for.” Emily felt the burn of embarrassment spreading through her chest as Nanny Rose peeled back the pajamas, exposing her bare shoulders and then helping her slip her arms free. Emily wished she could disappear, but there was no way out. Nanny Rose helped Emily out of the pajama top, leaving it bunched around her waist as she guided her toward the toilet. “There we go,” Nanny Rose cooed. “Let’s get you settled on the potty.” Emily winced as she sat down on the toilet, her whole body stiff with embarrassment. She wanted this to be over as quickly as possible, but Nanny Rose’s constant commentary made everything feel even more excruciating. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Nanny Rose said encouragingly as she stood nearby, watching with an approving smile. “I knew you’d be a good girl and let me help you.” Emily focused on the tiled floor, trying to block out Nanny Rose’s voice and the overwhelming sense of shame that was washing over her. It was humiliating enough to need help getting undressed, but having Nanny Rose treat her like she was in the middle of potty training was almost unbearable. When she was finally done, Emily stood up, avoiding Nanny Rose’s gaze as she quickly washed her hands. She just wanted to go back to the couch, back to some semblance of normalcy, even if it was just sitting in silence. Nanny Rose, however, wasn’t finished with her praise. “Well done, dear! You were such a good girl, asking to go to the potty and waiting patiently. That’s how big girls do it!” Emily’s face burned as Nanny Rose helped her back into the pajamas, carefully zipping them up the back. The soft fabric once again clung to her, making her feel small and childlike. But this time, Emily didn’t argue. She just wanted to escape the moment. “There we go,” Nanny Rose said with a satisfied nod as she finished zipping up the pajamas. “All snug and warm again. Now let’s go finish our show, alright?” Emily nodded quietly, following Nanny Rose back to the living room. She climbed onto the couch, pulling her legs up under her as she settled in once more. Nanny Rose sat beside her, giving her a gentle pat on the head as the show resumed. They watched in silence for a while, but Emily’s mind was far from the TV screen. Her thoughts swirled with the events of the day, each moment filled with more and more humiliation. She felt trapped, both physically and emotionally, in a house where she was treated like something she wasn’t.

Hey everybody! First time poster, longggggg time lurker (and I DO mean LONG. Like, 15+ years at least). Here is a little story I have been cooking up. It’s your standard fare “be careful what you wish for story”. Not meant to revolutionize the ABDL fiction game or anything, but just some nice, hot material for those who want it. It started out as prompts for captions I was planning to make, but ended up 6,000+ words, soooo...oops! Anyways, enjoy! Feedback/encouragement is always appreciated. Love our community- love you all! Stephanie’s Descent Stephanie was a beautiful, petite young lady of 26 who seemed to be grabbing the world by the horns. She had a job in an office doing clerical work while she was in school to become a lawyer, and had a sexy boyfriend named Mark. Sure, she felt insecure in her mature office suits, looking up at one well-dressed man or woman after another from her small stature with her girlishly cute looks. And sure, she had her suspicions that Mark was being unfaithful to her with another friend of hers. Yes, the schoolwork was intense and difficult, and despite her being so charming, this caused her on more than one occasion to be snippy or bratty to her other classmates. But Stephanie did not worry about this. Things would work themselves out. They always seemed to for girls who had it all, like her... One rocky living situation after another led her to have ask her mother if she could return home while she continued to work and study hard. It was a blow to Stephanie’s ego, but her mother Karen was secretly ecstatic. Karen supposed she should be happy for the strides in adulthood that Stephanie was making, but at times she would be so mad about the passage of time that she would do anything to get her little girl back. She would shake these thoughts from her head, as she already had an 18-month-old chubby baby girl to contend with named Lily. Lily’s father quickly left after Karen gave birth, making Karen all the more protective of her girls. She would use this time to impose motherly control and rules on Stephanie, whether she liked it or not. Plus, she could use a helper with Lily, so Stephanie added “caregiver” to her growing list of responsibilities... Stephanie stared down at Lily sleeping in her crib. She smiled and took a deep whiff of the smells of her baby sister’s nursery. Baby powder, baby wipes and the distinct smell of Pampers danced around her nostrils as she sighed, looking around the pink nursery adorned with infantile motifs of baby Disney characters and Winnie the Pooh. “I wonder what it would be like to be a baby again.” Stephanie wondered out loud as she headed over to the changing table. “No adult responsibilities- just toys, and baby shows and....diapers.” She felt a tingle shoot through her as she caressed the crinkly padding piled high under the changing table, imaging herself wearing it. “Oh sure, it would be SO embarrassing, but it might be kinda fun.” Stephanie bit her finger and looked around nervously. Her little shaved pussy throbbing and juices dripping into her panties, she took a breath and yanked her pants down. Then came her now soaked underwear. And now she stood in her baby sister’s nursery, naked from her bellybutton down, except for a cute pair of socks, ready to do something girls her age should not even be considering... Stephanie grabbed one of Lily’s diapers and a bottle of baby powder and placed it deliberately on top of the changing table. She took a big breath, unable to believe she was about to do what she planned to do and hoisted herself up onto the white padded surface. The cool, slick plastic of the changing surface caressing her bare bottom and privates sent another jolt of tingles through her body. Lying on her back she opened the thick diaper and gently fluffed it out to ready it to wear. Just like she did for her baby sister countless times. “If everybody could see me now! I wonder what they would say.” Stephanie again wondered aloud, this time with a chuckle. She bit her lip, lifted her small, perfectly smooth butt and slid the Pampers underneath her. She plopped her tushy down on the waiting, thirsty padding and shuddered as she began to feel more and more like a baby every second. She shook out a liberal amount of sweet-smelling baby powder over her already somewhat infantile looking, perfectly shaved crotch. Her heart was pounding as the mix of nursery aromas and baby sensations brought back feelings of helplessness and memories of daycare. She pulled the diaper up snugly in between her legs and taped it shut tightly against her. She knew from countless shopping trips previously that baby Lily wore the biggest size Pampers available on the market, being a chubby baby and all. The baby diaper fit Stephanie’s slender frame like a glove. She nearly spasmed as she looked down to see Sesame Street characters smiling up and waving at her from the top of the diaper. No, it was HER diaper now. The padding was thick, and almost oppressive, as it pressed securely into her most sensitive areas. The sensation was undeniably babyish. Even slight movements of her butt or legs caused a tell-tale crinkle to emit from her new infant underwear. Her powered pussy encased in her Pampers was dripping with a level of excitement she had never felt before. She was in pure baby bliss. She hopped off the changing table and waddled up to the full-length mirror near Lily’s crib. She was unable to stop herself from toddling, the thick diapers forcing her legs apart and causing an embarrassingly cute cascade of crinkles to follow her as she moved. She looked at herself in the mirror, her large puppy eyes and small figure complimenting her new choice of babyish undergarments. She giggled innocently and smiled as she examined her diapers from all sides. Caressing the outer padding and pulling them up tighter between her legs, she checked out her butt while moaning. Every touch and every movement cause the soft insides of her Pampers to further stroke and rub against her now incredibly sensitive clit, making her purr with pleasure. She looked to her right and glanced down at her still sleeping baby sister. Her gaze shot back to her reflection in the mirror, she popped her thumb in her mouth and in the most babyish voice she could muster exclaimed “More!” She giggled, twirled her hair and began bouncing in place. “More! More! More!” She chirped as she set about the nursery to further enhance her naughty, but incredibly pleasurable experience. Stephanie practically skipped over to Lily’s Winnie the Pooh dresser and threw open the drawers to rummage for more goodies to complete her immersion into babyhood. She practically ripper her halter-top off and unhooked her bra in an instant, letting her pert little breasts bounce free as she did so. She pulled from the dresser the biggest shirt she could find- a nursery yellow My Little Pony shirt featuring cartoon ponies hugging each other on the front. The immature shirt clung to her tightly, barely stretching down to her navel, and holding her small tits close to her chest, making her look flatter than ever. From the top drawer she pulled a small hairbrush and two hair ties with two bright pink plastic balls attached to them. With a sense of urgency, she deftly secured her brown hair into two high pigtails on top of her head. She fished around in the top drawer for a little while longer until she found what she sought, an all-white pacifier with a pink ring on the front of it. She popped in her mouth and almost bit down on the nipple with the surge of pleasure she felt from debasing herself even further from her adult self. She crinkled back up to the full-length mirror with a waddle and gasped at the reflection greeting her. From head to toe she looked every bit a baby- not a day older than her sister Lily. Gone were the fancy suits she wore in the office. Gone were the trendy clothes she wore to stay noticed in college. Gone were the date night dresses she donned to look sexy for her boyfriend Mark. Here she stood completely raw and infantilized for the world. She looked so cute and babyish it was humiliating. She blushed at her appearance and her rosy cheeks only served to make her look MORE like an infant. She looked down and felt her body to make sure it was really her she was looking at in the mirror. She had never felt more infantile or embarrassed. The butterflies in her tummy and the warmth wetness she felt in her private parts signaled to her only one thing...she loved this. End of part 1. I will most definitely be posting more!

Hey y'all - been awhile! I don't get much time to write, but over the last several years I've slowly been building up a little bit of a catalogue. I have enough content to post that I plan to slowly drip it out over the next several months. After that, maybe I'll have more stuff that isn't written yet, or maybe not - I will never start posting something before I think that the entire piece is finished, so it comes down to the mix of time and inspiration. But in the meantime, I thought I'd repost the original since I'm sure it will be new to lots of people. I'll repost the other next week, and then start with some new stuff. Thanks for the occasional posts and messages over the years. It's nice to know at least a few people have enjoyed it over the years. --- “Good morning, Baby!” Jackie's mother woke her with the same enthusiasm that she used every morning. At first, her syrupy sweet tone was almost too much to take, but over time, like much of her new life, Jackie had grown to accept it. Yawning, she answered, “Good mowaning, Mommy,” as was expected of her. As her mouth was closing, her mother picked up her pacifier from her pillow and slipped it back into her mouth, where it had been when she fell asleep and where it was expected to stay while she was awake unless it was removed by what she was forced to call “a grown-up.” Her mother checked her diaper and found it wet, as she always did now in the mornings. Jackie had not been a bed-wetter when her parents had decided that she would once again become the baby in the family, but several months without using anything but her diapers had been enough to completely destroy her bladder control, especially when asleep. Jackie seldom stayed in a dry diaper for more than a half an hour at a time any more, and, unlike at the beginning of her new life, when she would often soak her diapers heavily and require a nearly immediate change to prevent a leak, she now often stayed in damp diapers through several hours of minor wettings until finally she was given a change. This morning was no exception, and her mother declared that she would be able to last until she had finished her breakfast. Within seconds, the side of Jackie's crib had been lowered and she was helped down to the ground by her mother. Still in her pink, very short nighty that she had been put to bed in, Jackie began to crawl out of her room, with her mother following close behind her. When she got to the stairs, she shifted positions and slid downstairs on her bottom. Returning to crawling, Jackie crossed through the living room, past her playpen and toys, and into the kitchen. When she arrived there, her mother helped her up into the highchair that sat waiting for her near the table. As with every morning, Jackie was strapped in, with her mother reminding her that “we wouldn't want our precious babykins to fall out,” in the same awful coo that she was always addressed in these days. The tray of her highchair was soon locked into position against her chest, and her mother crossed the kitchen to begin preparing the oatmeal that Jackie was fed every morning for breakfast. As it heated in the microwave, her mother fastened one of Jackie's many embarrassing bibs around her neck. This one was relatively mundane, however, simply reading “Mommy's Little Princess” in pink letters across a plain yellow fabric, and Jackie rarely even bothered to read her bibs anymore knowing that they were only ever seen by people who were well aware of her new status as a baby. Soon enough, the microwave beeped and Jackie's mother brought her over her steaming hot oatmeal and began spoon-feeding it to her. Jackie accepted the oatmeal without any fuss. She did not particularly enjoy it, and she particularly disliked being spoon-fed it by her cooing mother, but she had learned long ago that there was no sense in resisting it. Her mother always made sure that she ate all of her food, no matter how much time that took, and any real resistance usually just led to some sort of punishment afterwards, which Jackie never enjoyed and avoided like the plague. Besides, though the oatmeal was not very tasty and there was always far more of it than Jackie truly wished to eat (her mother said that Jackie had become too skinny), breakfast was easily the best meal of the day for Jackie. At other meals, she was forced to eat real baby foods, rather than the comparatively adult selection of oatmeal. These meals, she had decided, were the ones that were truly disgusting, and so she had come to see breakfast as the best meal of the day, for better or for worse. Just as her mother was shoveling the last spoonful of oatmeal into Jackie's increasingly dirty mouth (her mother always made sure that an appropriate amount of baby food ended up on Jackie's face and bib, no matter how politely Jackie accepted her feed), Jackie saw her father walk into the room. After she swallowed, her mother asked “What do you say to your daddy, little girl?” “Hewwo Daddy,” Jackie lisped out in the ridiculous voice that she was always required to speak in. One of the rules of her new life was that she was always to speak in a babyish voice, which was made easier by the large nipple of the pacifier that was normally in her mouth. Still, this humiliating speech was one of the things that Jackie hated most about being a baby again, especially since she was usually only allowed to speak when she was repeating what she was told to say by an adult, with the only exceptions being to answer questions which she already knew the answer too like the one that her mother had just asked her. Her father crossed the kitchen and kissed her on the top of the head, which was just about the only way he could avoid getting oatmeal on his lips. “Good morning Princess,” he answered, using his preferred nickname for his big baby daughter. Jackie noticed that her father was not dressed in his work clothes as he normally was. That was odd, she thought. She was almost sure that it was Friday, though it was hard for her to tell given that she wasn't even sure what month it was and rarely even glimpsed a clock. In converting her into a full time baby, her parents had seemingly taken great care to deprive her of her ability to track time. Her highchair faced away from the clock in the kitchen, and there was no way to tell time either in the living room where her playpen was or in her nursery. She spent very little time outside, so all she really knew about the time of the year was that it was quite hot, and thus she assumed that it was summer. At first she had known how many days and weeks it had been since her parents had made her a baby, but as the weeks turned to months and it became increasingly clear that her newly lowered status would not be ending anytime soon, she gave up on diligently keeping track in her head. She tracked days of the week through whether or not her father had gone to work in the morning, but this was imperfect for a number of reasons. Her dad, like everyone else, occasionally took days off. Beyond that, Jackie often found that she simply lost track by the time Thursday, Friday, or Saturday rolled around because it really made little difference to her what day it was, as the only difference that the day of the week would make to her daily routine would be that her father would be around if it were a weekend day and would most often be at work on the weekdays. Thus, Jackie dismissed the idea that her father's casual clothing meant much of anything and assumed that it was simply Saturday and she had lost track of time again. Her musings on her dad's clothes were interrupted by her mother tilting her head back from behind and putting a bottle of formula into her mouth. Of all the ways to be fed from a bottle, this one was undoubtedly the worst in Jackie's opinion. To her immense displeasure, she drank exclusively baby formula. She found it to be too thin, too sweet, and just plain gross. She particularly hated its horrendous aftertaste, which hung around for hours and almost left her feeling thirsty again, though another drink of formula was the last thing she wanted. Despite her distaste for the milk, Jackie found that bottles were an inescapable part of her daily life. She was given one after each meal, along with two each as a “snack” in both the morning and afternoon and another after nap time and before bed, plus the other one or two she might be given to drink on her own over the course of the day. Being fed in the highchair, as she was now, was particularly embarrassing to Jackie. With her head tilted back, the bottle feeding forced her to look up at her mother, who usually put her face very close to Jackie's and whispered coos to her about how little or cute or precious or well behaved she was. Beyond this, Jackie felt particularly infantile because of the way that the bottle simply poured into her mouth and she had to suck even more furiously than normally just to keep up with the flow of the bottle. Fortunately, after just a few short minutes of the torture, Jackie finished the bottle. Her mother quickly and efficiently used her bib to clean up the oatmeal and milk that had remained on Jackie's face and then replaced her pacifier before removing the tray from the highchair. After she unbuckled the straps, she helped Jackie down to the floor. On autopilot, Jackie crawled into the living room and towards the playpen to begin her daily routine of nearly insufferable boredom. However, her mother had a different plan for her. “Where do you think you're going, silly?” she asked Jackie, as if Jackie were stupid for assuming that her day would begin in the same way that it had for literally weeks before. “We have a big day ahead of us today, so Mommy is going to give her little baby a nice bath so that if we don't have time we don't have to do it later.” Suddenly Jackie's curiosity was piqued again. Perhaps it was Friday, and her dad being home wasn't a coincidence but part of the “big day” that her mother was talking about. Jackie knew it was better not to ask, that her parents would tell her what was up eventually, but she was certainly afraid of what might be to come. Her mother had never said anything like this before, and normally she didn't get a bath until sometime just before dinner. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of a big day given her humiliating status within her family. Jackie crawled up the stairs and into the bathroom. Her mother started the water for her, then told her to sit still while she fetched her a nice new diaper for when she got out of the bath. Before she had time to so much as think, her mommy returned holding diapering supplies. As if to humiliate Jackie even more, her mommy said simply “we wouldn't want baby to do pee-pees all over the floor on her way to her nursery, would we?” All Jackie could do was avert her glance in shame, knowing full well that her mom was not totally off base. Soon Jackie had been stripped out of her nighty and her quite damp diaper and, with just a quick wiping, deposited in the bathwater. The water was warm and refreshing, but her mother did not give her more than the few seconds it took to clean up her wet diaper and put her nighty in the hamper to enjoy it. In a record time, Jackie was given her usual, thorough bath that included a scrubbing of all of the places that Jackie had once assumed her mother would never see again. Within just a moment of the scrubbing ending, Jackie was hauled out of the tub, dried off, and once again laying on the changing mat. By now, Jackie could confidently say she was unlikely to make good on her mother's prediction of being wet before her nursery, but only because she had already peed while sitting in the tub. As the diaper was laid out and Jackie was being powdered, she realized that she was once again being put into a thick, nighttime diaper, which was normally reserved for when she was about to be put in her crib for the night. This had never happened before, which gave Jackie further misgivings about what “big day” was in store for her. As if to answer her question, her mother said, “Don't worry baby, we just have a long car ride ahead of us and it will be much easier if Mommy and Daddy don't need to pull over every couple of hours just to change their little tinkle-pants.” Jackie wasn't sure whether to be dismayed or glad after that comment. Her parents weren't the only ones who didn't want to be pulling over every couple of hours in order to change Jackie's diapers. Any diaper change that began with pulling over sounded like the most humiliating experience of Jackie's time as a baby. But hearing that they would be traveling that far scared Jackie very much. Where could they possibly be going? Jackie didn't even have time to ask. As soon as her bulky diaper was taped shut, she was flipped over and ordered to march to her nursery. Naked but for the thirsty disposable between her legs, Jackie did as she was told, though her apprehension caused her to move slow enough for her mother to give her a quick smack on the rear as a signal to hurry up. With a somewhat renewed vigor, Jackie finished her short crawl into her nursery. As always, she was helped onto her changing table by her mother to be dressed. She sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the table while her mother opened the drawer of her dresser across the room. She soon returned with a relatively simple pink onesie for Jackie to wear. While it wasn't the most embarrassing piece of clothing in Jackie's extensive new wardrobe, it was still more than she really wished to be seen in public in, especially given the frilly lace around the arm holes and across the bottom. She was also put off by word “baby” spelled out in baby blocks the chest, but supposed that the fact that she would be wearing a onesie over a thick, bulging disposable diaper meant that the label wasn't really telling anyone anything they couldn't figure out. Only after her mother pulled it over her head and fastened the buttons in her crotch did Jackie realize that the ensemble was not yet complete. Her mother told her to stay where she was. She soon returned with an item that she had never before seen. It was pink, though much brighter than the pastel shade of her onesie. It took Jackie only a moment longer to realize that it was a denim pair of shortalls. While they were loud and quite babyish and seemingly likely to draw a stare from anyone who really examined them, Jackie's first reaction was to let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness that much of the onesie would be covered! Soon, though, her delight was diminished. As her mother brought the shortalls up her legs, she realized that they were closed on the bottoms with the same humiliating buttons that her onesie had, thus making it obvious that they were hiding diapers that may need changing. Still, at least the ruffles on the seat of her onesie were mercifully covered up. What bothered her most, though, was the wording on the front of the garment. Stitched in clear, large blue letters was the simple monogram “Baby Jackie.” Clearly, this was a custom article of clothing. In her size how could it not be. Jackie began to cry. She knew she was going out of the house, and now she knew she would be doing so in clothes that openly announced her status to anyone who took so much as a second glance at her. Her mother reacted quickly to her tears. Hugging her daughter, she cooed “Shh shh shh, baby, its ok, Mommy's here. Whats the matter diddums? Does baby need a bubba?” Tears came much less frequently now for Jackie, who had felt at least some of her embarrassment at her new station in life wear off as the novelty of it did as well. At first, almost every new humiliation that her parents had in store for her reduced her to sobs, but over time Jackie had reached a point where only extreme humiliation, a particularly severe punishment, or a notably depressing day could send her into such a spiral. Ever since the beginning though, her mother reacted the same way. She always behaved as if she had no idea what could be wrong, though it was almost always quite obvious what the problem was. Instead, she pretended that Jackie must simply be suffering from a problem that may make a baby cry. Diapers were always checked, and if they proved not to be the answer (they never did, as her mother was always fairly well aware of their state) then she would give Jackie a bottle under the assumption that she was hungry and/or thirsty. This time was no different. Jackie soon found herself, still sobbing, in her mother's lap as she sat in the oversized rocking chair in the corner of her room. Her mother positioned her head on her shoulder, with Jackie's diapered bottom on the chair just next to her legs. Removing Jackie's pacifier, she inserted a bottle into her waiting mouth. As Jackie's mother told her that she was her precious little baby, she did her best to calm down. She knew that continuing to cry through her bottle was likely to lead to a nap time under the assumption that her tears indicated tiredness, which was the last thing that she wanted, as she would simply be left to contemplate the daunting day ahead of her. Jackie had indeed finished crying by the time her bottle was empty. Her mother gave her a kiss and then popped her pacifier back in her mouth. She left Jackie on the rocking chair for a moment. When she returned, she carried a pink ribbon with a pin. She tied the open end of the ribbon to the loop on Jackie's pacifier, and pinned the other end of the ribbon to the part of her onesie that stuck out on top of the shoulder straps of her shortalls. “We don't want your paci to fall out in the car while mommy and daddy are in the front seats, and can’t help you, right baby?” was the explanation that her mother gave her. “Time to go to the car, princess!” her mother continued. With a distinct sense of dread, Jackie allowed herself to be lifted down from the rocking chair. She began to crawl into the hallway, and once again bumped her way down the stairs. Her mother seemed to forgive her slow pace this time. Jackie had only left the house on a handful of occasions since she had become the family baby once again, but she knew the drill. She crawled her way to the door in the kitchen that led to the garage. There, her mother opened the door (babies weren't allowed to open doors, as she had learned early on in her new life) and allowed Jackie to bump down the three more stairs that led to the garage floor. “Take Mommy's hand so you don't go boom and make an ouchie,” her mother commanded, standing her up. The hand she was offered was perhaps more welcome than her mother knew. On an average day, the only time Jackie ever stood was to be put into and taken out of her highchair and to be raised onto or off of the changing table. In both of these instances Jackie was to crawl to the very spot where she would need to be standing in order to take the step up into her babyish position, and so most days she didn't take a single step while standing. All of this meant that, while Jackie could still walk, she was significantly worse at it than she had been before the months of inactivity had diminished her balance. Though Jackie walked due to the dirty garage floor, she didn't walk far. It was less than ten steps to the car. When she got there, her mother quickly gave her a boost up into the back seat of the mid-sized SUV that she normally drove. Jackie wondered for a split second why they were not taking her father's car, which they usually took when going on longer trips, but her answer came just as quickly when she remembered that her custom-made, adult-sized car seat had been installed in the rear of her mother's car and was quite a hassle to remove. Despite her misgivings about the trip, Jackie obediently settled herself into the seat and allowed her mother to strap her in. The restraint was extremely snug, especially in the areas where it came into contact with her extra thick nighttime diaper. “All right baby, you're all nice and safe for our ride! We have quite the trip ahead of us! We're going all the way to a place called Maine for a family reunion! You'll get to meet all of your aunts and uncles and cousins! They'll think you're so cute! But we have a long ride ahead of us, so you need to be a patient baby while we drive, ok?” Jackie resented so much of what she was told. She resented being treated like she'd never heard of Maine. She resented the idea that she would be traveling strapped in this car seat for a minimum of ten or so hours, given that her family lived in Virginia and she had no idea how far into Maine they were going. Most of all though, she resented that her parents were very clearly intent not just on bringing her to a family reunion in diapers, but on displaying her in her fully babied state when they got there. As she was still processing what would be happening to her, her mother continued “Daddy and I need to finish packing the car, so you sit tight, and we'll get on the road in just a few minutes.” “As if I have any choice,” Jackie thought, though she continued to simply suck on her pacifier. About ten minutes later, after the trunk behind her had been opened and closed several times, her parents finally got into the car. As her dad started the car, Jackie noted that the clock on the dashboard read 8:30. This made sense to her, as she was pretty sure she was normally awoken at around 7:00 in the morning. “Great,” she thought, “best case scenario, we won't get there until at least 6:30. Just in time for dinner and my 8 o'clock bedtime. This is going to be an even more boring day than usual.” After a quick stop at a local gas station, during which Jackie felt glad for the Elmo-themed sunblocker that sat in her window but also had the benefit of preventing any acquaintances outside of the car from seeing her in her infantile state within, Jackie's family was on the road. The monotony quickly set in for Jackie. Her mother had played her a CD of lullabies over the car stereo, but given that she had only just woken up from her 11 hours of sleep, she was nowhere near able to sleep yet. About an hour and a half after they got on the road, her mother passed back a bottle to Jackie and told her to drink up. She did as she was told, and it was followed by a second, in keeping with her normal morning routine. Beyond that though, there was virtually nothing for Jackie to do. With her dread setting in, Jackie found herself reflecting on how she came to be in her position. She had never expected to find herself even living at home at this point, not to mention doing so as the family baby. Back in May, Jackie had finished her college career. She had graduated with honors and was looking forward to embarking on an exciting career. However, since she had gone to school several states away, and wanted to get a job closer to home, Jackie hadn't yet begun the process of applying for jobs. She was quite unworried though. She knew that she had solid credentials and her parents had agreed to allow her to live at home until she had landed a job, which Jackie expected would take no more than a month or so. Jackie had no idea that her parents had other plans for her. As an only child, they had always thought that she had grown up too fast. Beyond that, though, they had grown increasingly disappointed in her behavior throughout college. Unlike her parents, who were both very successful lawyers, Jackie had no interest in the law. This had been a source of tension with her parents. They were also disappointed with her inability to make lasting friends at college. She had been unable to even tolerate any of her roommates at school. While her parents had been supportive over the phone, it was clear to them that Jackie was the source of conflict in each case and they were unable to gently persuade her that she should change her ways. When Jackie had returned home, they had told her all of this, and concluded that Jackie was essentially an arrogant brat. In fairness to Jackie, this wasn't totally true. Jackie wasn't mean spirited, by any stretch of the imagination. She was difficult to get along with, but part of that was just that she was difficult to communicate with because she was something of a loner as a result of being an only child. She didn't consider herself to be arrogant. Instead, she considered herself to be smart enough that she always knew what was best. Still, Jackie was never allowed a rebuttal to her parents' criticisms. They told her that they wanted the perfect little angel back that they had once had, and that they were going to get it. Within an hour of Jackie's return to her house, she was led up to her old bedroom, which had been thoroughly converted into a nursery in her size. Jackie soon found herself strapped onto the changing table, sobbing and wearing a diaper. Her mother and father explained to her that life would be very different from the one she had left. At its core, she was to live as a baby of approximately one year old, with all the trappings that came with it. Diapers were to be used, baby clothes to be worn and baby food to be eaten, plus all of the other indignities that were to become part of her daily life. Most shocking to Jackie, her mother would be retiring from her job to become a stay-at-home mom to her baby. When she was able to think rationally about it, Jackie had realized how serious her parents were. They had spent a lot of money to acquire all of the custom-made items that Jackie's new life would require. Her mother had left her job as well. While her family could easily afford both of these measures, they indicated that her parents intended to keep her as a baby for an extended period of time. This, as much as the news itself, came to be what bothered her the most. The uncertainty of when, if ever, she would be allowed to grow up made Jackie feel extremely uneasy and made it hard for her to stay positive. She desperately wished to be allowed to grow up one day, but was often afraid that it would never happen. Within the first few days, Jackie began to get the hang of her new life. Two things immediately stuck out at her. The first was that being treated as a baby was extremely humiliating. Feedings, changes, baths, outfits and bedtimes all made her blush furiously and, at first, often reduced her to tears or petulant fits. The second thing that she realized was just how boring being a baby was. Jackie spent hour after hour in her playpen, sometimes without even seeing her mother for more than an hour at a time. She was sometimes allowed to watch a lone episode children's television, but even then the most mature shows she was allowed to watch were taped episodes of Teletubbies, which was infinitely below her years and totally boring to her. When the television was off, only a few dolls and blocks were available to her, none of which really provided her any entertainment, even when her mother took them in her hands and played with them in front of Jackie's face while assigning them annoying, babyish voices. In the beginning, Jackie had fiercely resisted her role as the family baby. This didn't last long, however. Every time that she acted out, her parents found a way to punish her. The punishments were truly unbearable. Her parents never spanked her, except for a light swat on the outside of a diaper to correct the most minor of offenses. In truth, Jackie would probably have preferred to be spanked. Her parents instead gave her punishments designed to increase her boredom. Sometimes she was given extended naps or much earlier bedtimes. Early in her new life, Jackie had once found herself in her crib for the night at three thirty in the afternoon, which meant that she had been forced to lie there for 16 mind-numbing hours. That punishment was even worse then, because Jackie had not yet been able to adjust her sleep schedule and hadn't managed to fall asleep until close to 10 o'clock, more than six hours since she had first been put down for the night. Another hated punishment was a seemingly simple timeout. At first, Jackie had been forced to sit on a low stool during timeouts while facing the corner. However, her parents found that unless they sat there for the duration of her timeout, which for Jackie was normally at least 30 minutes and sometimes much, much longer, Jackie would simply try to get up in an act of further rebellion. They quickly put a stop to this by buying what Jackie considered to be the most horrible invention of all time. It was a baby bouncer that hung from the ceiling, but it was designed for adult-sized babies. During time outs, Jackie now found herself suspended from the ceiling for up to several hours at a time, with literally nothing to do and nowhere to go. Her first trip to the bouncer, which had lasted 90 minutes, left Jackie sobbing for more than an hour and vowing to herself that she would be good from now on. That had not happened, of course, but her obedience had improved significantly from that moment forward. Looking back, it seemed to Jackie that she had settled into her life as a baby with an alarming speed. Within little more than two weeks, she had basically accepted her new life and grown accustomed to it. She realized that much of this owed to the fact that, for the most part, she ran on a simple daily routine of meals, bottle feedings, play time, and bed times, with little that ever interrupted it. This made Jackie somewhat numb to the ordeal that she was going through and sped up the process of accepting it. About the only time Jackie's day ever changed was when she had a “play date.” She had had four thus far, all with the same girl. That girl, Stephanie, was two years older than Jackie, and had been being treated like a baby by her parents for over four years. Jackie could never figure out how her parents had ever discovered such a playmate for her, as she had never met Stephanie and lived almost an hour away from her. Jackie had twice been to Stephanie's house, and twice Stephanie had visited hers'. Each time had been incredibly awkward for the two girls. They were expected to kiss each other fully on the lips as a way of greeting each other, and then Jackie had to endure a round of kisses from Stephanie's nanny (a babysitter only slightly older than the two babies actually were who Stephanie's parents had hired to watch over their oversized bundle of joy while they were at work) while Stephanie was similarly doted on by Jackie's mother. After that, the two were expected to play with each other while sharing a playpen. This often proved to be incredibly frustrating, however, as while it was the rare time that either of them was encouraged to speak (at least while providing voices for their dolls), neither of them could really say anything intelligible from behind their oversized pacifiers, which they were still forced to suck even as they played. The result was that the girls had to endure a few awkward hours of babbling at each other before being fed lunch. After that, they would inevitably find themselves cuddling in a crib where they were to remain absolutely silent and take a nap, each all too aware of the presence of another in a bed that was normally the site of solitary confinement. After nap time, the play date would always end with another round of humiliatingly mushy kisses and then a long trip back home in a tight car seat for whichever girl was visiting on that day. Though Jackie didn't mind the idea of a change in routine in theory, in practice she always found it exhausting and couldn't wait until it was over. Jackie had been absentmindedly reminiscing for over an hour when she was interrupted by the car slowing down and entering into a small roadside picnic area that also included restrooms. She realized that if her parents had talked over the decision in the front seat, she had totally missed it. Glancing at the clock, she realized that it was just past noon, and Jackie surmised that it may be lunchtime. She hadn't really even thought of how that would work. All of Jackie's consternation had been reserved for the specter of a diaper change on the road. Quickly though, she realized that despite her diaper that seemed to be nowhere near the point where she would be changed, this too would be quite an ordeal. Fortunately for Jackie, only a few cars seemed to have chosen this secluded rest stop for their break on the road. Her parents each took a turn visiting the restroom, while the other babbled nonsense to Jackie, asking her if she knew how cute she was and whether she was ready to eat a yummy lunch. Although the answer to the latter question was a resounding “no” in Jackie's head, she soon saw her mother preparing a picnic table on the far end of the rest stop from her vantage point in the car seat. Before long, both parents were out of the car and rummaging in the trunk. After what seemed like a surprisingly long time, Jackie's father opened the back door of the car and unbuckled his oversized toddler. As he slid Jackie out of the seat and moved her towards the door, she began to realize what had taken so long. Jackie was surprised to see an adult-sized stroller waiting for her on the ground. This was another item making its debut on the trip. Before she had even finished processing the device, Jackie was seated inside of it. The canopy top may have protected her from the sun somewhat, but it felt to her like it couldn't have done less to conceal its occupant from any outside gazes. To her relief, none of the few other people seemed to pay any attention to their party at all, and her disgraceful new ride was, at least for now, kept as her little secret. Jackie was pushed over to the secluded picnic table that her mother had chosen, and the stroller was situated so that it was facing the end of one of the benches. Within seconds a totally nondescript bib had been fastened around Jackie's neck, and she realized that she was about to be fed while still in her stroller. “This will be interesting,” thought Jackie, noting that the stroller had her facing upwards in an effort to keep her low to the ground without forcing her to drag her feet. Indeed, it was interesting. In addition to being a cold feed, since her mother was unable to heat up the disgusting blend of beef and vegetables baby food as she normally would have at home, the angle seemed to throw off the coordination of mommy and baby, resulting in an even more messy face than Jackie was accustomed to. Other than that though, the feed was pleasant enough, and Jackie ultimately suffered no more indignity outside than she would have had she been inside, though the worry that she would kept her constantly on edge. Only after she had finished the bottle that her mother held with one hand while eating a sandwich with the other did Jackie's anxiety truly begin to subside. Her parents finished their food, and soon Jackie had been cleaned up and pushed back to the car. After a quick diaper check confirmed that she had a few hours of safety left, Jackie was returned to her car seat and her parents began to reload the car for the next leg of the journey. As the car rejoined the light traffic on the freeway, Jackie was reminded by her mommy that it was nap time and that she should go to sleep. In reality, Jackie needed no reminder. She resented the naps, especially since she also spent about 11 hours in bed each night, but Jackie had also learned to sleep during them. Like a baby, Jackie now truly needed to nap during the day, or else she wouldn't make it all the way through the night. With the relatively happy thoughts of her embarrassment-free lunch still in her head, Jackie quickly drifted into a docile sleep. A little over an hour and a half later, Jackie was lightly stirred by her mother, who had reached an arm back from the back seat. As Jackie groggily rubbed her eyes, her mother said “Wakey-Wakey, beautiful. Mommy doesn't want you to sleep too long and ruin your night time sleep.” Just a moment later, Jackie was passed a bottle to drink. Normally she would have had that bottle in her crib while her mother cuddled her and woke her up, but this was obviously impossible in the car. Instead, Jackie fed herself the dreadful formula and wished there was a way to be able to avoid just such a thing. Traffic seemed to still be moving well enough, and Jackie saw that it was about 2:15 on the car clock. She couldn't figure out where they were based on road signs because of the screen on the window, but Jackie guessed that they must be making good time. Jackie wasn't really sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was only a few minutes after her bottle that her father pulled the car off into a rest area. Jackie wasn't totally sure what the reason could be for this stop. When she realized that this was simply a parking area and that there weren't any restrooms here for her parents to use, she was even more confused. Her mother got out of the car and went into the trunk, but was only there for a second. Before Jackie could figure out where she had gone, the door nearest to her seat was opened and her father began to get her out of the car. “What's going on?” thought Jackie, still a little groggy from sleep. This time, as she was helped down, Jackie saw that there was no stroller for her to be placed in, which she considered a mercy, even though the parking area was completely deserted and she was unlikely to be seen by anyone but the motorists passing several hundred feet away on the highway. Just two steps around the car made Jackie forget her sense of comfort, and if it hadn't been for her dad's suddenly tight grip on her hand and her wobbly, unused legs, Jackie might have tried to run back around to the other side of the car. Her mother was standing at a nearby picnic table, and laid out on the table was her changing mat, along with a fresh diaper and all the supplies needed to change Jackie into it. Jackie's dad practically dragged her the remaining few steps to the table, and a quick warning spank was needed before she could be boosted up onto the table. The idea of an outdoor change, even in this relatively anonymous location, had Jackie petrified, and she found herself in tears for the second time that day. Both of her parents were cooing at her, but it was her mother that she heard clearly. “Now, now, baby, its time for our little princess to have her diaper changed. We don't want you to get a leak and ruin your pretty clothes and make your car seat all wet, do we?” Though Jackie was used to being changed, the process was particularly horrible this time. Soon, the snaps on each of her layers of clothing had been unbuckled. With the diaper now on display, Jackie was a wreck, barely even able to see out of her sobbing eyes. When that diaper was opened and Jackie was exposed to the open air, she froze. Her focus was on the road, and the entrance into the parking area. Jackie lost all perspective, and as her mother wiped the excess urine off of her diaper area and dropped the wipes into the used diaper, she was certain that every car on the road could not only see her, but could tell that she was far too old to be in need of a diaper change from her mother on the side of the road. The change itself was actually quite efficient, but to Jackie, it took an eternity. Her mother's thorough powdering was taking forever in her eyes, and even after she was mercifully taped back in to another thick disposable (an experience she never thought she would consider merciful), she wished her mother would hurry up and button her back in to the comparatively less embarrassing baby clothes. Finally, Jackie was boosted up off of the table. Her mother escorted her back to the car, while her father disposed of the sodden diaper and gathered up the supplies and returned them to her diaper bag. Less than ten minutes after they had entered the rest area, they were back on the road. As they re-entered the highway, Jackie felt herself let out a small, involuntary stream of urine, and silently cursed herself for being unable to enjoy the luxury of a dry seat for even a few minutes. The afternoon portion of the ride soon proved to be the most monotonous for Jackie. She would have liked to have had at least a stupid baby toy to play with in the back of the car, but all she could do was stare at the back of her mother's seat, as the screen that shielded her eyes from the sun also served to prevent her from being able to even so much as stare out the window. At this point, Jackie's mind was filled with nothing but dread. She had been to one family reunion several years prior, and if this was to be anything like that experience, she worried about what to expect. Given that they were on their way to Maine, she was almost sure that they would be visiting with her father's side of the family, who almost all hailed from that state. She vividly remembered that, at the last reunion, she had been the youngest person there at age twelve. This owed to the fact that her father was about five years younger than each of his siblings and cousins. All of them had had children a little earlier than her parents had had Jackie, as well, so the result was that all of the other youths at that reunion had been at least in their mid-teens. Jackie wondered if they would all be in attendance now, in their mid-twenties, or if they would be off living lives of their own. She also couldn't help but fear that she would be viciously made fun of by those closest to her own actual age, as they would see her as a weak excuse for an adult who was entirely worthy of their mockery. All of this dread made the time pass very slowly. The two bottles that she was given in quick succession around three o'clock didn't really help time pass any slower, though they did remind Jackie just how much she hated baby formula. She found herself praying for a distraction. Perhaps if Jackie had thought about who might hear those prayers, she would have thought twice about making them. If anybody was watching over her very closely, it seemed to her that they had a sick sense of humor to allow her to be converted so thoroughly into the infantile creature she had become. The distraction she was sent confirmed that the joke really was on her. Only a few minutes after Jackie finished the second of her bottles and once again was commanded to begin sucking on the giant nipple of the pacifier dangling from her shirt, a familiar and dreaded pressure took hold in Jackie's abdomen. Immediately, she knew that she was in deep trouble. “I can't! Not here, in this tiny little car seat! I have to hold it!” she thought. Even as she thought it though, Jackie knew that it was basically no use. She knew that at this point, by the time she knew that she had a problem, she didn't have much time left. Unlike her bladder, Jackie still retained a semblance of control over her bowels. However, had she been allowed to not use her diaper, she imagined that her level of control would be similar to that of a beginning potty-trainer, who needed to be rushed to the bathroom as soon as they asked in order to prevent an accident. In the desperate fight against time, time won. Within about ten minutes of increasingly agonizing pressure, Jackie's will to fight broke. She knew, however, that this would be as difficult of a mess as there was, as she was secured tightly to her seat and had no way to shift so that she could raise a leg. Jackie pushed, and hard. When Jackie let out a rather loud, involuntary grunt, the idle conversation between her parents in the front seat ended abruptly. Fortunately for Jackie, she was so focused that she didn't really notice the small chuckles that her beet red face earned. The floodgates took a few moments to open. They finally did so with a pair of short, noisy farts that Jackie was decidedly not too focused to miss. Her embarrassment continued to grow as the quiet sound of several gushes of a soft, mushy mess slid into her diaper. One more push sent a final wave into the seat of her pants, and Jackie's exhausted body relaxed back, sinking her into her own filth. It was obvious that Jackie's parents were well aware what had happened, but they let the moment breathe for a moment. Finally, her mother asked what might have been the most unnecessary question possible. “Did my baby make a stinky in her diapee? Pee-Whew, I think so! Somebody is a smelly baby!” This was practically a routine when Jackie was discovered to have messed herself, but that didn't make it any easier for Jackie to bear. There was still no end to her embarrassment when she found herself declared a stinky baby while sitting in a diaper full of her own poop. A moment later, her father said, “Can you stand it well enough?” “Yes,” her mother said, “if you can. We only just changed her into this diaper an hour and a half ago, and if she hadn't made a mess she could have lasted until Maine. She can wait a little while anyways.” “Sounds good,” her dad answered. “Great,” Jackie thought. “A poopy diaper for as long as they wish, and then the worst change of my life!” As the poop cooled and began to itch, not to mention smell, Jackie thought about just how much she hated messing her diapers. It had most definitely been the hardest part of her terrible new life to accept. She had resisted all pooping for the first three days of her babyhood, and tried to remove her diaper when she finally did need to give in to the urge. She had been caught, and put into locking plastic pants on that occasion, then been forced to take an extended nap in freshly messed diapers before finally being changed. The experience had taught her that she was best off not trying to avoid using her diaper, because she would only wind up wearing her waste for longer. Still, while Jackie had accepted that she would need to mess eventually, at first she had held out for as long as possible before doing the dirty deed. She only messed a few huge messes the first week or two, as she continued to hold on for as long as she could. Slowly, though, that changed. She had become somewhat accustomed to the messes and the humiliating changes that always followed, and she didn't see the need to strain so heavily to keep her urges held back. Additionally, the consistency of her poop had forced her hand somewhat. Her diet, which consisted of literally nothing that needed to be chewed, turned her mess into a far more liquidy beast than it had been during her adult life. Not only did this make her poop start to smell much more like that of a real baby's than that of an adult, but it also made it even harder to hold on for days at a time. Over time, she returned to the one-mess-a-day pattern that she had normally held during her previous life. But even that didn't hold. In part because Jackie made increasingly less of an effort to hold on when she felt the need, she found that almost as often as not she now found herself in a messy diaper twice a day instead of her usual once. She told herself that this was due to the fact that she was fed more food than she had been eating when she had made her own choices, which had an element of truth to it, but much of it had to do with a steady loss of control, which was a fact she denied to herself. Jackie really, really hated “having stinkies,” as her mother often called a messy diaper. She tried to do it when she was alone in a room as often as possible, because the act of pooping herself in front of others was still too much to bear easily. When her mother did discover a mess in her pants, however, she always seemed to suddenly be quite busy. Even when she had, to her great shame, messed during one of her play dates, she had stayed seated in her smelly prison for over a half an hour, and while it had been a little shorter than the average amount of time that she was left to stew before she was cleaned up, she had been mortified, though later she had still felt superior to Stephanie when she had messed herself during naptime and had stunk up the crib to the point that Jackie could hardly sleep. The mess had long since cooled and become itchy by the time Jackie felt the car once again slowing down and pulling into a highway rest area. She had actually been glad the first time they had passed a rest stop, because she had realized that it was one of the ones that had gas stations and food options and was so crowded that she would have been entirely sure to have been seen. But as other, quieter rest areas had passed without a stop, she had become increasingly despondent. She desperately wanted to be changed before they got to the reunion, but it seemed like it was possible that that luxury was not coming. As they pulled into a parking spot in the mostly empty parking lot, however, the knot in Jackie's stomach simply changed purpose. She was still filled with dread, but now it was because she knew she would be changed from a messy diaper in an at least somewhat public setting. She knew that messy changes were not at all like wet changes. They were slow, owing to the way that feces caked all over her diaper area, and required even more time in the humiliatingly-exposed, legs-up position. When Jackie was pulled out of the car, she looked around for the picnic table she would be led to, but never found it. Instead, she was lead around to the tailgate of the SUV and lifted up, leading to one final, disgusting squishing of her mess around her diaper before she was laid back on the changing mat, which had been placed in a small opening in the trunk just big enough for her upper body to fit in. “Change time, princess!” her father announced, as if it were not the most obvious statement in human history. Her mother did the actual changing. Jackie's diaper was soon opened, and the momentous task of wiping her filthy, smelly anus began. Jackie was unsure whether she felt better or worse being unable to see outside the car past her mother. She knew for sure, though, that her legs and some of her bottom were on display out of the back of the car. That made her uncomfortable for sure, but she could allow herself to think that she may have looked a little more like any other baby from this angle. The wiping finally ended, and after a thorough powdering, another diaper was taped up. For the first time that day, Jackie found herself only wearing a daytime diaper. While it was still quite thick and very noticeable under her clothing, it was not even close to how thick the billowing nighttime diapers were. Jackie felt fortunate to know that the first time she met her family at the reunion her diapers would at the very least not make her bottom look almost twice its normal size. As she got out of the trunk and back to her feet, she realized that, from afar, her change had just been watched by an astonished young couple, perhaps a year or two older than her at most, who appeared to have been hiking in the woods before returning to their car. The male cried out “Cute baby! Isn't she a little big though?!” from across the lot. “We've got our hands full!” her mother responded, as her husband buckled a mortified Jackie back into her car seat. “Big baby, big poopies!” Jackie had perhaps never been more embarrassed in her life. Tears came cascading down her face as her parents disposed of the dirty diaper and got into the car. The tears earned Jackie little more than a shushing and bottle of nasty formula, and Jackie wished for all she was worth that the world would open up and swallow her. “Just another hour and a half until we get there baby!” her father explained, making it clear Jackie was supposed to be excited. Jackie looked at the clock, and saw that it was about 5:15. She still didn't know exactly where they were going, but she could now guess that it was very close to her grandparents house. She remembered that when her family had last held a reunion they had rented out a very large house where everyone had stayed. She guessed that this would be the case this time as well. The imminent arrival would give her a much better idea of what to expect, though, and she was particularly in the dark as to how her status as a baby might impact her trip. The final stretch of the ride actually passed a little faster than the rest of the trip had for Jackie, mostly because she was distracted with her thoughts of her latest diaper change. She could not shake the fact that a couple of her approximate age, and especially a fairly attractive young man, had seen her compliantly lie still while her exposed privates were wiped clean of poop. Thinking about the past made her temporarily forget her dread of the future, and Jackie was surprised that they were so near when they got off the highway an hour later. It was still another twenty minutes before they finally arrived, but by then the dread had set back in for Jackie, and she was officially back to wanting to be anywhere else in the world. “We're here, baby!” her mother explained as she removed Jackie from the car seat and, oddly in Jackie's opinion, set her straight down into her new stroller. “Here” turned out to be a very large, lakeside building that had a massive front yard. The stroller started to make a little more sense when Jackie saw that she would be pushed several hundred feet up the hill from where the car was parked to where the house was actually located. “Now, princess,” her father said, bending down to put his face right in hers, “Daddy knows that this is a very exciting weekend for you, but you need to be on your best behavior for Mommy and Daddy or you will be in very big trouble. Is that understood, little girl?” This was one of the questions that Jackie was trained to answer. “Yeth Daddy, me am gonna be a puhfect angel,” she lisped from behind her pacifier, though the promise was nothing more than what she was required to say. The stroller ride took a minute or two. A few feet before the door, Jackie's grandmother and aunt came out to greet them. “Hi!” the two women shouted in unison. “Hey Mom, hey Sally, it’s great to see you!” her dad answered. Hugs were exchanged, and her mother also shared greetings. For just a moment, Jackie thought that she was going to be ignored, but she was not so lucky. Suddenly, from behind her, Aunt Sally emerged, and then she was not only not being ignored, but the center of attention. “Hellll-o Baby Jackie,” she bellowed, no more than three inches from her face. “It's your Auntie Sally! It's so exciting to see you, cutie-pie! We all love you very much!” Then she plopped a loud, wet kiss on Jackie's face. The exercise was repeated by her grandmother, and then her mother reached around and removed her enormous pacifier. “Give nana and auntie a kiss, baby,” her mother instructed. Jackie, of course, was still strapped into the stroller, so she had to wait for each of the women to come to her. When they did, in turn, Jackie pressed her lips against them, and pushed her tongue out while sort of half-shouting “mmmmmm-aah!” as she had been taught to do when ordered to kiss someone. Both women positively squealed at the kiss. “Oh my goodness!” exclaimed her aunt. “She kisses just like a real baby!” “She is a real baby,” her mother responded, “in every way you can imagine. She's our beautiful little bundle of joy.” “I can think of a few ways I'm different than a real baby,” Jackie thought, but even if she had actually wished to offer that opinion, she wouldn't have been able to, because her mother pushed the pacifier back into her mouth. “Let's head inside,” her father said. “We don't want the baby to catch a cold.” Jackie was pushed the last few steps to the house, and then was unbuckled from the stroller. She was lifted up under the shoulders by her dad, took one step up over the threshold, and then, without needing to be told, immediately dropped to her knees. “That's so adorable! Does she always crawl?” asked her grandmother. “Of course, just like any other baby,” her mother responded. “I love how her cute little diapered butt waddles back and forth when she crawls,” her aunt said. “So cute.” Jackie's face was turning beet red, but since she was facing the floor it wasn't totally clear to the others in the room. She wasn't really sure where she was going, so she slowed herself as she reached the end of the entry hallway. “I'll show you to your room so you can get all settled,” said her grandmother. “That would be great, Helen.” her mother responded. “Do you mind watching the baby for a minute while we bring everything in?” “I'd love to! Feel free to run back out to the car if you need to too. I've got the baby. Don't I Jackie? I think I do. I think I do.” Jackie wished the floor would swallow her, but it of course did not. As everyone else left the room, her grandmother crossed over to the sofa and beckoned her to her. Jackie crawled over to her grandmother. A pat on her knee and a pair of hands under the shoulders told Jackie to climb up onto her grandmother's lap. When she sat there, she realized just how close her face was to her grandmother's. The ridiculousness of the situation was driven home when she saw that she was a head taller than her grandmother when sitting on her lap. Even still, any thought of defiance melted away in shame almost instantly when two fingers went probing into the front of her diaper. “Oops,” announced her grandmother. “Somebody has had a little accident.” Jackie just continued to suck on her pacifier. She hated to admit it, but the pacifier had become a source of comfort for her over her second period as a baby. It allowed her an excuse to say nothing (not that she was really allowed to) and made it possible for her to focus on something other than her moments of most extreme humiliation, even if the coping method was admittedly shameful in itself. Still, in times like these when she had nowhere to hide, it somehow made time move a little faster. She endured many kisses and cheek pinches from her grandmother, but before she knew it her mother came into the room and declared themselves ready to give the baby a nice feed before bathtime and bedtime. After a quick crawl to the kitchen, Jackie stood up and prepared to get into the highchair. Only then did she realize that her parents must have ensured that there was a highchair present for her. The knowledge that even while they were away from home her parents were this concerned about such details made Jackie sick. As she climbed in, another aspect of the highchair struck her. It was meant for real babies! Jackie didn't really realize it at first, but her mother had to sort of push her in in order for her diapered hips to squeeze into the seat. The strap had to be loosened all the way to fit her, and the tray could barely reach the locking mechanism, and even then was making Jackie feel like her stomach was much bigger than it truly was. When she was settled, she realized that her toes were very close to reaching the ground, which was never true in her much larger version of baby furniture at home. The feeding was at once no different than any other and as humiliating as any Jackie had ever experienced. She choked down the usual concoction of atrocious baby foods, had the same amount of it spilled down her face, and got all of the usual comments that her mother always made. It was the peanut gallery that made her so dreadfully uncomfortable. The comments about the faces she made when the food hit her tongue, about how messy of a little girl she was, how adorable she looked and how obedient she was that rang out from her aunt and grandmother were all enough to make it quite clear that this was no normal supper that could have happened at home. All through the bottle feeding that followed, during which both her grandmother and her aunt had the opportunity to hold the drink up while Jackie sat helplessly, her father answered all questions and comments as if he were some sort of tour guide for the dinner. All of his answers, of course, seemed designed to emphasize that Jackie was a baby, and that her actions were just like those of any other baby as well. After the fuss of dinner, Jackie was exceedingly grateful for the relative privacy of bathtime. Only she and her mother retreated into a bathroom near the room her parents would be staying in, though Jackie suspected that this privacy was not due with a desire to provide Jackie with modesty as much as it was because the bathroom hardly had room to lay her down and take off her clothes and wet diaper without any other visitors. The bath moved quickly enough, with her mother doing a thorough but efficient job washing Jackie, just as she did every night. As she began to drain the tub, her mother looked down at Jackie, tweaked her pacifier, and told her “I know it's a few minutes earlier than normal, but as soon as you are dressed and everyone has said goodnight, you are going to go to bed, baby. You've had a long day, and you have another exciting adventure ahead of you tomorrow.” If she had expected that Jackie would be upset, Jackie couldn't really understand why. She didn't really know what time it was, but guessed it was really only a few minutes early. Besides, Jackie was indeed emotionally spent and wouldn't mind being able to get away from all of the attention she was facing by retreating to bed. She had just been glad for the second bath that had earlier apparently been in doubt. She was helped out of the tub and onto the changing mat. After being quickly taped into yet another nighttime diaper, the fourth she had worn at some point that day, she was told to get up. Her mother led her out into the hall. To her horror, instead of being lead into whatever room would be serving as her nursery, she was lead back into the kitchen still as naked as the day she was born with the exception of her diaper, although she was certainly a little more self conscious of her breasts than she had been more than two decades earlier during her true infancy. “The pizza is almost here, honey,” her father said. “Has baby Jackie come to say goodnight?” “Yes she has,” her mother answered. “Get up on just your knees, baby. Everyone is going to give you a kiss, and then I'm going to get you ready for beddy-byes.” Reluctantly, Jackie did as she was told. On all fours, at least her boobs had been somewhat concealed. Kneeling like this made them totally exposed, although if anyone besides her noticed in the slightest they did a convincing job hiding it. Soon she was back on her hands and crawling back down the hall once more, having been kissed condescendingly on the top of the head and told that she should rest up for what promised to be an exciting day to come. “Exciting for everyone except me,” Jackie had thought, but she certainly kept that thought to herself. Jackie was a little surprised to be led into her parents' room. She was never allowed into her parents' room at home, and was told that she could only go into rooms that were safe for little girls, which her parents' room apparently was not somehow. She assumed this exception must be because her suitcase was in the room, but when she got in there another surprise awaited. Sitting at the foot of the bed was a small, baby sized portable playpen/crib that Jackie recognized acted as something of a traveling crib for infants. To her mind, it was impossibly small, but she immediately had no doubt where she would be spending the night. She was half lifted, half dragged onto the bed by her mother. There she had a footed sleeper, which seemed too warm to Jackie, put on her. It was quickly followed by what she knew would be the last of her daily bottles of the sickly baby formula, in case there wasn't enough that would already be finding its way into her diaper over the course of the night. After the bottle, it was down from the bed directly into the “safe bed” as her mother decided to call it, as if Jackie needed the clarification between the two to be made. The portable crib was just as tiny as it looked. From the slight wobble it made when she entered it, Jackie could tell it was on wheels. Jackie had no chance of getting comfortable. She lied on her stomach, which was how she was always told to lie, ostensibly so that she wouldn't spit up in her mouth and choke, like other small babies might. Given that this wouldn't be an issue with Jackie, it was just another way to make her seem like a baby. Tonight, with only about three and a half feet of length in her crib instead of the normal six, she had it even worse. With her head all the way at the top of the pillow, she still had to bow her knees all the way out to the side of the crib in order to fit lengthwise, and she was thankful for the soft sides of the crib for a little extra leeway. This position didn't last however. Her mother couldn't get her swaddled in her enormous baby blanket the way she normally did, so she commanded that Jackie get onto her side and into a rather tight fetal position. From there, she was able to provide her normal wrapping job on Jackie. As usual, it was uncomfortably tight. Jackie spent all of her nights essentially unable to move. It was normally a good deal looser by morning, but Jackie was, and no doubt on purpose, essentially unable to move before she fell asleep each night. Tonight, she could tell, would be especially uncomfortable. The position was worsened by the fact that the sleeper was too warm and, combined with the blanket, Jackie figured to be even warmer than she normally was during sleep, which she already considered to be too hot. “Nighty-night, baby Jackie,” her mother said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Mommy and Daddy will be in in a little while to go to bed too, but we will do our best not to wake up our little sleepyhead. Sweet dreams!” Jackie fell asleep quickly, but her dreams were not exactly sweet. She dreamed that she was an adult again, wandering around the reunion as any other family member would. At first, this made it a good dream. But, as she was interacting with cousins, aunts and uncles, she quite suddenly became the focus of attention. Her dream-self looked down and was greeted with the sight of a growing wet spot on the front of her stylish, white shorts. Quickly, the looks turned to taunts and she was told to go find her mommy and called a baby. Jackie awoke with a start. The warmth in her damp diaper told her that the accident in her dream might not have actually been fiction. She was hot, cramped, and unable to move, just as she had been when she had fallen asleep. Jackie knew it was going to be a few moments before she could get back to sleep. The dream had rattled her a bit. It seemed even her subconscious didn't think she could handle being an adult. If she couldn't convince herself, she mused, how could she ever convince her parents that she was ready to be a big girl again? Jackie couldn't tell what time it was, but she sensed that it must be sometime in the dead of night, based upon the total lack of light and the rhythmic breathing she could hear coming from the bed above her. The room was much darker than she was used to, as her nursery at home contained a small nightlight. At first that had driven her crazy, as she didn't really like light while she slept, and she certainly didn't appreciate being told that it was there so she wouldn't be afraid of the dark, but she was now used to it, and she was somewhat surprised by her eyes inability to adjust. Ultimately, both the nightmare and the discomforting lack of light were no match for Jackie's tiredness, and the next thing that she knew she was being woken up to the sound of her mother's morning cooing. She began to unwrap Jackie from the tight blanket as Jackie muttered out her groggy “Good morning, Mommy,” which came as a great relief for Jackie. Once she was freed from the blanket, she was boosted up and onto the bed. Jackie felt tremendously sweaty. As she stretched her legs out, she felt very stiff as well, no doubt a result of her tight sleeping quarters. Jackie had little time to get comfortable, as her mother slid her right back down onto the floor, and in one motion she found herself on all fours. In no time, she was crawling out into the hallway behind her mother. Entering the kitchen, Jackie was greeted with the hellos of her father, aunt and grandmother. She lisped out “hewwo ewybawdy” from behind her pacifier in response, which seemed to to satisfy everyone. Soon Jackie was lifted up into the highchair and the tray was stuffed into the locking mechanism tight against Jackie's chest. The microwave was soon at work heating her oatmeal. Her aunt brought over a bib, and after a quick kiss on the top of the head, moved around Jackie's back and fastened it around her neck. Her aunt crossed the kitchen and removed the oatmeal from the microwave. She grabbed Jackie's baby spoon and moved back over to the highchair. Jackie quickly realized that it wouldn't be her mother who would be feeding her this morning. “Open up for the airplane!” her aunt commanded, which Jackie was already obediently doing. The feeding was really quite like normal. Her aunt made sure she ate it all, except for the portion that she made sure wound up on Jackie's face and bib. She kept the food coming at a relatively quick rate, and continued to keep up a constant chatter of coos about Jackie's status as a baby. Despite all of the ways that the feeding was similar to what it would have been like had it been her mother, the fact that it was not kept Jackie squirming with humiliation throughout the ordeal. Finally, she reached the end of the bowl of mush. Two bottles were quickly brought over, and Jackie got another kiss on the forehead from her aunt as she tipped back her neck and pushed the nipple into her still-messy mouth. As Jackie began to suck, her father made the announcement she had been dreading. “Looks like Bill and Sarah are here!” he said. Bill was his brother, making him Jackie's uncle and his wife Sarah her aunt. Jackie had always particularly liked Aunt Sarah, and really didn't want to be seen by her like this. Her instincts told her to try to wriggle away from the bottle, even though she was strapped in the highchair and didn't really have anywhere to go, but her aunt was ready for her anyway. She held the bottle tight and put her spare hand on the back of Jackie's head, keeping her in the humiliating suckling position, and quietly said “Don't worry baby, you just drink your milk. Uncle Bill and Auntie Sarah will be here in a minute and you can see them then.” Trapped, Jackie did as she was told. The rest of the family started to move outside to greet her aunt and uncle. Jackie was just starting her second bottle when everybody came in. “Oh there she is!” her aunt exclaimed. “You're so cute! I'm your Auntie Sarah, Baby!” Sarah planted a kiss on Jackie's head, and Jackie wanted to melt at the way her aunt acted as if she was a newborn that she was meeting for the first time. It only got worse when Sarah's next comment, which was directed at her mother and seemed to assume that Jackie was too little to understand, reminded her that her face was still a mess from her oatmeal. With little other choice, Jackie, slurped down the rest of her formula. The commotion meant that it was actually another minute or two after she finished before her Aunt Sally realized that she had finished. She set the bottle on the tray of the highchair and used the clean spots of Jackie's bib to wipe the loose oatmeal off of Jackie's face. She removed the bib and brought it, along with the dishes, over to the sink. Her mother took over, using a baby wipe to thoroughly clean the stickiness off of her face and then removed the tray from the chair. She unbuckled her daughter and helped her down to the floor. As Jackie dropped to her knees, her mother told her “I have the most wonderful new dress for you to wear today for when you meet them! Let's go get you out of your diapee and make you look like a pretty little angel!” “Perfect,” thought Jackie. “I can't wait to look like an angel when I meet everyone.” She didn't say that out loud, of course, as she wasn't expected to say anything and certainly wasn't allowed to let fly with such sarcasm. Instead she obediently began crawling down the hall and back to the room she had shared with her parents the night before. Once she reached the room, her mother motioned for her to move towards the bed, giving her a boost when she got there to help her up. Jackie lied there while her mother rustled in a bag below the bed. She soon returned to view, and Jackie saw that she had in her hands wipes, powder, a diaper, and a changing pad. She put the changing pad and supplies down next to Jackie and helped her sit back up on the bed. Her mother took off her footed sleeper and set it aside, leaving Jackie in just her diaper as she was guided onto the changing pad. It wasn't long before the diaper was gone as well, and Jackie was soon being wiped and powdered by her mother, who then expertly diapered her once more before returning to the suitcase below the bed. Jackie scarcely had time to reflect on how she was simply lying on the bed and waiting to be humiliatingly dressed for her humiliating day before her mother returned, holding an armful of clothes that Jackie knew were destined to wind up on her. The clothes were put down above her head so she couldn't see them, and she had to wait for them to be put on to catch a glimpse. “You're going to look so adorable, little one!” her mother commented as she brought the first item to the foot of the bed. It was a simple pair of white tights, which were quickly slid up Jackie's legs and stretched over her diaper. Next came a pair of frilly panties that went over the tights and settled over the diaper. The panties themselves were white, but both the front and back featured layers of blue, lacy frills that rendered most of the white invisible. The tights were followed with the main attraction: a blue dress that clearly had been made to match the panties. Her mother sat her up, and the dress was pulled down over Jackie's head, and she had an opportunity to take in the dress for the first time. It had white shoulder panels that gathered to an elastic only a few inches into the sleeve, creating a distinct, babyish puff. It hugged her upper torso somewhat tightly, but fell away off her chest in baby-doll style. But, Jackie noticed, it didn't fall far. Sitting still and straight upright, it still barely came to her waistline. Jackie was sure that all of the frills on her panties would be on display even when she was at her most modest, and knew that even those frills would do nothing to hide the bulge of the thirsty diaper that was concealed underneath them. Jackie could feel her mother pull her hair into a ponytail behind her, which was surprising, given that she normally found herself wearing pigtails to accentuate her childish status. But before Jackie had had much time to wonder what the ponytail meant, she got her answer. She felt something pulled over her head, and then her mother was tying a bow underneath her chin. Jackie could see above her a blue brim turning into white lace, and knew she had just been tied into an oversized bonnet that not only made her look even more ridiculous than she already did, but also served to limit her peripheral vision somewhat and make her feel even more useless than usual. Still, her outfit wasn't quite complete. Her mother added a pair of frilly socks that went over her tights and came up to her ankles, and added a pair of black Mary Jane shoes that fastened with a buckle. “You look so precious!” her mother exclaimed. Jackie thought she probably looked stupid, but kept that opinion to herself. “Oh, one more thing.” her mother added. She rustled around in the bag on the floor for another second, and returned with a blue pacifier, which she quickly swapped with the pink one that Jackie normally sucked. It was identical to the other except for color, but the coordination was just another level of humiliation for Jackie. “Perfect!” her mother almost shouted. “Let's go out and show everyone how pretty you look!” Jackie was led out into the kitchen again, where her family did indeed find her to be just as cute as her mother. The compliments poured in from all over, but Jackie didn't find any of them particularly flattering. All of them commented on how little she looked, and many also made note of just how much of her diapers could be seen. The limited vision that she had because of the bonnet helped Jackie to keep her eyes focused squarely on the floor that she was crouched upon. Mercifully, she wasn't forced to remain at everyone's feet in the kitchen for too long. After a minute or two, her father came into the kitchen, although Jackie hadn't even noticed that he hadn't been there until she saw him returning. He motioned to her, and said “I put your playpen out in the living room. Why don't you come play with your toys.” She crawled after him. She wasn't really sure where the living room was, but she was sure that she didn't care, because it couldn't be worse than the kitchen had been for her. She turned down a different hallway in the large house and came out into what was a quite large room. It had several open doorways that led to bedrooms, and also had a sliding door leading to a large deck and the backyard. Inside the room was an enormous couch that looked like it could seat a dozen people. Sure enough, her father had set up her playpen on the side of the couch. She crawled over to it, and was helped to her feet by her father. He put his hand on her diapered bottom and boosted her up and over the railing and into the playpen. Inside the playpen, Jackie found three stuffed cloth blocks, a rattle, and a doll in place of the blanket and pillow that had been in there when it had served as her crib the night before. Her father bent over and kissed Jackie on her head. He then demonstratively turned on a baby monitor, reminding Jackie to be a good baby and assuring her that they would bring everyone in to meet her when they arrived for the reunion. Jackie had hoped that they might somehow forget, but had already guessed that she would not be so lucky. After her father left, Jackie looked for a way to entertain herself. These toys were the same ones that she often found herself with for hours at a time at home. She had decidedly not yet found a way to entertain herself with them, however. The toys were simply not entertaining for someone of her maturity, no matter how much she sought that entertainment. She still made sure to always have a toy in her hands when she was told to play. If she was ever found without one, her mother invariably decided that Jackie must want to do something other than play. At home, this meant that she would either be put in her bouncer, put down in her crib for an extended or extra nap, or forced to play some sort of horribly embarrassing baby game like peek-a-boo or horsey rides with her mother for an extended period of time. Jackie had decided that each of these options was either more boring or more embarrassing than playing with the mind numbing toys in her playpen, so she was always careful to keep up her activity rate. Right now she found herself shaking her rattle a little bit, until she remembered that that would be heard by everyone in the kitchen over the baby monitor and decided that instead she would play with her doll. Her solitary confinement ended before she had completely grown bored of the moment. She was moving the doll across her face when her father came back into the room with a pair of relatives she didn't remember having ever met. Apparently they were his cousin, Cindy, and her husband, Harry. It was unclear if she had met them at the last reunion, because she was introduced to them as if she were a baby that had not even been alive at the time of the last reunion. Like everyone else, Cindy and Harry cooed over Jackie as if she were any other little baby. In fact, Jackie was somewhat curious how not even one family member had seemed surprised to be introduced to a baby who was clearly in her twenties. Everyone seemed to simply take her babyhood in stride and act as if it was totally normal to see babies that were over 5 feet tall and weighed comfortably more than 120 pounds. Soon Cindy and Harry moved on, and Jackie was once again left alone with her toys in the living room. The interruptions began to come much more quickly, though, and Jackie realized that the majority of the relatives that were coming must be starting to arrive. Eventually, her mother came in with a few other women who were at the party. She was carrying a pair of bottles and a bib. “Baby must be hungry! We've come to feed you!” she said. She quickly helped Jackie out of the crib, guided her the one step to the couch, and sat her down across her lap. She was quickly fitted with a bib, and another round of cooing ensued as the bottle of sickly formula was pushed between Jackie's lips. The women eventually started up more normal conversations, and for a moment Jackie faded out of the spotlight as she sucked down her morning snack. However, that peace ended rather quickly when another set of new guests came in to meet the “baby.” Immediately, Jackie could tell this experience would be different. She recognized two of the people who walked into the room. One was her cousin, Melissa, who was Sarah's daughter, and the other was Michael, who had been her fiancee when they'd last seen each other. But Jackie knew that her cousin, who was three years older than her, had since gotten married to Michael, and so they were now husband and wife. What she hadn't realized, however, was that the young couple had had a baby. Even as she was still being fed, Jackie was introduced to baby Kendra. Kendra, it turned out, was 13 months old. She was being carried now, but her mother bragged that she was now quite an accomplished walker. As Jackie gazed at her, she came to an awful realization. She was wearing the same exact outfit as Kendra! It was too much for her, and she began to quietly sob when her aunt Sarah, Kendra's grandmother, started cooing at how adorable it was that the girls were dressed as twins, which Jackie could tell must have been coordinated. In all of the months since she had been forced back into infancy, she had never felt more like a baby than she did at this moment. The comments did not end as quickly as they had earlier, and Jackie was still feeling like her embarrassment was the center of attention when she finished her second bottle. Her mother made a big show of checking her diaper, declaring her wet but not yet in need of a change, and finally moved her back into the playpen. The party was gradually moving away from the kitchen and out towards the living room, so Jackie was not granted her wish to be left alone. After a few minutes sitting in the playpen absentmindedly holding her doll, Jackie's plight was once again called into focus when Melissa said to Jackie's mother “Would you mind if I let Kendra play with Jackie for a little while? She's getting heavy and I keep seeing her looking over Jackie's way.” “Of course not!” her mother said. “I'm sure Jackie would love to play with Kendra.” Kendra was quickly lowered into the playpen next to Jackie, though there wasn't that much room given that the enclosure was normally meant for one actual baby, and it instead now housed a normal baby and an adult-sized one. The two looked at each other, with Kendra seeming to spend extra time trying to determine what to make of the big girl who looked so much like her. “Can you say hi, Kendra?” Melissa asked. Apparently saying hi for Kendra was a simple wave, which elicited a round of awws from the assembled crowd. Jackie's mother then repeated the question, asking “Can you wave hi back, Jackie?” That prompted Jackie to give back a similarly shy wave, which elicited another round of awws and earned her a “Good girl” from her mother. Melissa added several toys to the playpen, a couple of which Kendra quickly moved to grab. Jackie couldn't help but notice that the smaller child's toys were actually much more complex than the ones that she was normally given to play with. The girls didn't really play with each other as much as they played in the same space, or, even more accurately, Kendra played and Jackie sat miserably with a toy in her hand in the same space. Kendra could not talk or really communicate, and Jackie was not really allowed to, and wouldn't have wanted to either. They were in the playpen for well over an hour when the monotony was broken up when Kendra began to cry quite suddenly. Jackie was surprised, as she didn't really know what had happened. Melissa, however, seemed to have a better idea. She quickly came over and immediately checked her daughter's diaper, and determined that her wetness was the reason for the fussing. She pulled Kendra out of the playpen and took her into a bedroom for a change. Jackie wished that all she had to do to get out of a wet diaper was make her mother aware, as her cold, wet loins were starting to get uncomfortable, but she also felt like now was not a time when she needed people thinking about the state of her diapers any more than they might already be. Jackie feared that she was about to be subjected to a diaper check when her mother walked over to the playpen just after Melissa and Kendra had left. However, her mother instead announced “Lunch time for babykins!” She helped Jackie out of the playpen. Now the subject of several gazes in the crowded living room, Jackie dropped to her knees and crawled after her mother into the kitchen. The kitchen still had a sizable crowd, many of whom were munching on tasty looking appetizers. Jackie, however, was led straight to the highchair in the corner of the room, and boosted up into it. Her mother quickly strapped her into the extremely small article of children's furniture and put the tray onto the front. She began heating a few jars of baby food in the microwave. While it was heating, she brought over a bib. This one was yellow, and across the front it read “Mommy's Little Stinker,” which was one of Jackie's least favorite bibs. Soon the food was ready. It came over steaming in a plastic bowl, and as usual, the mush looked and smelled terribly unappetizing. A small crowd formed to watch the feeding. There were many comments about how babyish Jackie looked and how well behaved she was, a few chuckles at the face she made when the disgusting food first hit her tongue. As usual, her face ended up quite messy. Just as she was finishing, Kendra waddled into the room, which her mother following closely behind her and holding her hand. “Uh-oh,” said Jackie's mother. “Looks like somebody needs your seat, Baby Jackie. Let's get you down, we'll give you some milk in the other room.” Her mouth was quickly wiped, but the humiliating and messy bib stayed around her neck. She quickly got down on her knees when the tray was removed, and within seconds she had essentially swapped places with the tot, with the only difference being that she had to crawl where Kendra had walked. She began crawling out to the living room, with her mother following with a pair of bottles in her hands. She was boosted back onto the couch, and endured another round of sickly sweet formula. By the time she finished the second bottle, Kendra was coming back into the room. Jackie noted that her feeding had taken much less time than her own, but realized quickly that she probably ate a lot more than her much smaller counterpart had. “Should we set up both playpens in the other room for naptime?” Melissa asked. “I think that would be great. Is it all ready to be used as a nursery?” Jackie's mother answered. “I think so,” said Melissa. “It's got good shades, and nothing in there but the babies' things. Should be a perfect room for them for tonight too.” Jackie hated being talked about as one of the babies by her cousin. It was impossible to ignore that they were quite close to each other in age, and had socialized as equals the last time that they had seen each other. Having her now treat her as an equal to her baby daughter was really difficult for Jackie. Her mother instructed her to follow Melissa and Kendra into the room while she pushed the playpen that was into the living room into the bedroom behind the rest of the group. Once inside, the toys were taken out of the playpen and placed on the full sized bed that would not be used. While Melissa got Kendra into her own portable playpen, Jackie's mother checked her diaper. She decided that while she was definitely wet, she'd be able to make it through naptime without any leaks. She said to Jackie, “I don't want you to ruin your dress, so I'm going to take it off for naptime, ok baby?” Jackie, of course, didn't have a choice, but sat still as her mother took off her dress and her little shoes. She felt ridiculous in her remaining ensemble of a bonnet, tights, ruffled panties, and ankle socks. She was also very self conscious of her breasts, which were on display in front of her cousin. That fear was barely founded, however, as she was soon being wrapped tightly into her blanket in the playpen, essentially trapping her again but once more providing her with some modesty as well. As the two women worked to put their babies down for their naps, they began to talk about the difficulties of their babies, with Jackie's mother hinting at some of the ways in which Jackie's size made her unique. Eventually she confessed to Melissa, “Actually, I'm quite glad that Jackie is going to be in here with Kendra tonight. She slept in our room last night, and it stopped my husband and I from being able to do anything at all. It's not that we couldn't, I guess, because she is just a baby and she wouldn't understand, but we didn't want to wake her up even though we wanted to have some fun because we might have never been able to get her back to sleep.” “I didn't need to hear that about my aunt and uncle, but I know what you mean,” Melissa responded with a laugh. “Michael and I were so glad when Melissa started to be able to sleep in her own room so that we could get back to having our fun. Every time we had tried before, we had always woken her up and it was a nightmare. Plus it was a total mood killer!” Jackie was mortified. If Melissa hadn't wanted to here about her aunt and uncle's sex life, Jackie was even less interested in hearing about it, given that they were her parents. Beyond that, her mother's words represented yet another new way that she was being called a baby. Her mother had implied that she could be in the room while other people were having sex and she wouldn't even be mature enough to understand the adult action that was going on. One of the things that Jackie missed most about her maturity was the opportunity to have at least a bit of a sex life. When she had been an adult, she hadn't really had a tremendous amount of success with men, but she had recently had her first serious boyfriend. She hadn't “gone all the way,” but she had had her first sexual experiences with a man, and had hoped that she would soon be taking the final step when he had decided that they should break off their relationship. Rather than leave her with a sour taste, the relationship had served to awaken Jackie to her sexuality. She had become increasingly interested in finding another man, and in the meantime had even ventured online to find herself a few toys to explore herself with on her own. That awakening had abruptly ended when her parents had changed her into a baby. While her desires hadn't entirely subsided, her ability had. Jackie was never alone in a position to pleasure herself, as the only times that she was out of sight and behind a closed door were when she was tightly wrapped up in her crib for a nap or for the night. Even if she had been sure that she could get enough flexibility, she was stopped by the fact that she was constantly on the baby monitor. While she could perhaps stay somewhat quiet, she doubted that a careful listener wouldn't know what was happening. Furthermore, even without those obstacles, Jackie had another issue to contend with. She simply had no desire to put her hands into her diapers. They were almost always wet, and there was really little that made her feel less sexy than the moments when she realized that her sex was encased with a used diaper. All of her sexual frustration had meant that she had now gone months without achieving anything close to an orgasm, a fact which often had her somewhat depressed when she thought about it. Now, the dismissal of her as someone capable of any sort of sexuality seemed to hit her especially hard, in part because she knew that it was functionally closer to true than she wished to admit. It was just a moment more before Jackie was kissed on the head by her mother. “Sleep well, baby girl,” she said. “I'll come get you when it is time to get up from your nap.” Jackie was then surprised when Melissa bent down and gave her a kiss as well. She made sure to flick on the nightlight on her way out, and shut the door, leaving Jackie to slowly drift off to her nap. She was awoken by the sound of Melissa's voice, who was softly saying to her mother “Wow, Kendra is still asleep. She must have been worn out by the excitement. Normally she only naps for an hour or so. I guess I should get her up so that we don't ruin her night's sleep.” “Looks like my sleepyhead is already waking up.” her mother replied. “Are you ready to go back to the party?” she asked, turning her attention to her daughter. “I think you probably need a diaper change before we do that though.” Jackie might have argued that she could have used a change hours ago, but at the same time she was pretty hesitant to be changed in front of her cousin. She wasn't going to have a say in that though. Her mother was already laying out the changing mat on the carpet next to the playpen that Jackie was still crammed into. Kendra had been stirred and Melissa decided that she would need to change her daughter as well, so she began to set up another changing mat next to the one that Jackie's mother had laid down. In the meantime, Jackie had been unwrapped from the tight blankets she had slept in, and her mother got her out of the playpen. She quickly laid down on her back, on the mat. Her mother took down her frilly panties and then worked her tights down off of her legs. Jackie was once again conscious of the fact that she now was on the floor in nothing but a diaper, an embarrassing fact that was compounded when Melissa approached and put her baby down next to Jackie. Just then, her mother opened up Jackie's diaper, leaving her hairless privates and the soaked, yellow inside of her infantile underwear on full display. Her mother was significantly less worried about her nakedness than she was, and, in fact, Melissa seemed to take it in stride as well, simply attending to Kendra's diaper. Jackie was glad of that, but once again embarrassed that she was being treated as if her babyhood was no different than Kendra's was. She laid with her legs up in the air as her mother carefully wiped the urine off of her privates and bottom, and while her legs were up over her mother's head while Kendra's were only at chest height, there was otherwise no difference in their positions and what was happening to them. Eventually the wiping was finished and a new diaper was taped on to replace the old one, which was good because before her tights had even been pulled all the way up her legs she felt a small, warm spurt dribble into the thirsty padding between her legs, reminding Jackie of just how necessary diapers had become for her. Within a few moments Jackie was back to wearing the ridiculously babyish outfit that she had been wearing all day and was sitting between her mother's legs, preparing to be fed the bottle of formula that she had brought into the room with her when she came to wake her up the girls. Melissa began to move one of the playpens into the living room while carrying Kendra out, leaving the room with just Jackie and her mother. In this position, Jackie was just a little shorter than her mother, who pushed the bottle into her mouth and tilted her head back. The position was strange for Jackie, as her head was essentially cradled between her mother's breasts, and she was forced to look up at her mother, who was looking back down at her. Her mother began to coo, saying virtually nothing meaningful, but all the while making Jackie feel as babyish as possible. Finally, the bottle was done and she was released from the strange hold that her mother had kept her pinned in. Without needing to say a word, her mother got up and began to walk out of the room, knowing that Jackie would follow her on her hands and knees. Jackie was surprised to find the living room deserted when they got there, but her mother didn't miss a beat, leading her straight outside and onto the sizable back porch. There was a game of wiffleball in progress and many other family members were chatting over drinks or sitting on some of the several pieces of furniture that were around the lawn and on the porch. On the corner of the deck, positioned in the shadows cast by the house, was the playpen that Melissa had removed from the makeshift nursery, and Jackie saw that Kendra was in there, engrossed in her toys once again. She was led in that direction herself, and within a few seconds had been helped over the railing and was sitting on her diapered behind in the playpen next to what she was pretty sure was her cousin once removed. The boredom resumed almost immediately. She picked up a stray block that was next to her and simply held it, not really bothering to pretend to be amused. There were a few adults seated a few feet away, including her mother and Melissa, but their conversation was far from noteworthy. Jackie watched Kendra, who was intently playing with two dolls. Given that Kendra couldn't talk, it was hard to guess what they were supposed to be doing, even though she was babbling along in gibberish the whole while. A few times she got bored of the dolls, one time hitting Jackie as she threw one away, but otherwise she didn't interact with Jackie at all. Jackie's boredom was complete, and perhaps was made even worse by the presence of others in the area, as she wouldn't allow herself to play with any dolls in front of them, which she sometimes did at home to pass the time, making up stories that were usually about herself breaking out of the terrible rut that she was currently in and returning to a successful adulthood. After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only about two hours, Jackie's mother got up and said, “I should probably go warm up Jackie's bottles for her afternoon snack. Be right back.” Before she could get more than a step though, Melissa stopped her. “Hang on a second. I'll come with you. I've got to get a bottle for Kendra, and I think I have a proposal that might make both of our lives a little bit easier.” “Sounds good,” her mother replied. “Be a good girl and play nicely with Kendra, Jackie. Mommy will be right back. Remember, listen to anything the grown-ups tell you.” Jackie went back to faking playing for the next several minutes, glad that the monotonous block of playtime would be interrupted with a bottle feeding. While that was sure to be embarrassing, she’d already been publicly fed earlier, and at least this would be something new to do. Plus, it would take up thirty minutes. She figured it was probably around 3:30, so with that half an hour, she was probably only about an hour and a half of playtime from dinner. Normally she would never look forward to that, but today that would mean bath time would be on the horizon before finally, mercifully, bed time would mean that the day was over for her and with it the vast majority of the reunion, provided that everyone left on Sunday morning like they had the last time. Her mother led her niece back out onto the porch. Curiously, Jackie noted, her mother only had one bottle in her hand, but she was sure it was just that Melissa had grabbed two on the way out the door. Her mother walked over to the playpen and bent down, putting her face right into Jackie's. “I am going to feed little Kendra while Auntie Melissa feeds you, ok little one?” she cooed. More quietly, she continued, “If you so much as fuss one bit for Auntie you are going to spend all day in timeout in the bouncer on Monday, understood?” Jackie couldn't imagine what that was all about, but she nodded anyways, making sure that her earnestness showed in her eyes, lest her mother think that she hadn't come up with a threat that got Jackie's undivided attention. She gently picked up Kendra and carried her over to the seat she had been sitting at before she got up. As Jackie watched, she felt Melissa's hands behind her shoulder blades, helping to boost her up and guiding her over the railing onto the porch. Melissa grabbed her hand, a signal to stay standing, and pulled her the few steps over to a large, padded rocking chair for two that hung down off a metal frame. Jackie wasn't looking forward to being fed by her cousin, but would have complied even without her mother's bizarre threat of relatively harsh punishment. Melissa sat down and scooted over to one side of the chair, still holding Jackie's hand as she made herself comfortable. She then patted right next to her legs, and pulled Jackie so that her diaper was positioned just next to her legs. Knowing the drill, Jackie brought her legs up onto the vacant side of the chair, curling them up so that they fit, and placed her torso on Melissa's body. Melissa fastened a bib around Jackie's neck, which was unusual for a bottle feeding, but explained, “We don't want any dribbles on your gorgeous new dress.” Melissa pulled her head closer to Jackie's, but started talking more loudly. “This used to be Kendra's favorite, but now she only seems to like it at night. My body is still really used to it though, and this will be better for you and easier for me than having to pump it out and store it.” Jackie was now starting to get alarmed. Was Melissa talking about what she seemed to be? Panicking, she began to desperately look around for the bottles she surely would be fed. She couldn't find any. She gasped as she saw that Melissa was undoing the buttons on her shirt, confirming that Jackie would not be getting the mundane bottle feeding she had been looking forward to. Her pacifier dropped from her gaping mouth, and she involuntarily let out a small “no, please,” which she didn't even lisp, a mistake she hadn't made since the first week of her second childhood. Immediately, her mother snapped “Jackie Marie! You just earned yourself a day of punishment on Monday and a timeout when you are done being fed! If I hear one more word out of you, it will be a week of punishment, and that will only be the beginning! Say you're sorry to Auntie Melissa and drink up like a good little girl this instant!” Jackie was already sobbing a little, and the snaps had brought some attention beyond the small circle of onlookers in that corner of the deck. Suddenly a large portion of the party seemed aware that the giant baby was in trouble and about to be breastfed. Jackie wanted to run away, but the thought of a week in the bouncer was unbearably awful, and so, crying harder all the while, she meekly lisped “Me sowwy Auntie Mewissa, me was bad gurl.” Melissa gave her a kiss on the top of the head, and then placed one hand behind Jackie's head, with the other on her breast. Jackie wanted nothing in the world less than to drink milk from her cousin's teat, but wasn't foolish enough to think there was any avoiding it anymore. She opened her mouth and, crying even harder now, put her lips around the nipple. “Shh shh shh, that's a good baby. Have some nice milkies and you'll feel all better,” Melissa whispered. Jackie sucked, but could immediately tell that this would be more difficult than a bottle. The nipple was slightly smaller, meaning she needed to use her tongue to help her to latch on properly. Finally, the first wave of milk came, which was perhaps the worst part of the whole experience for Jackie. Mentally, there was no suggesting that she was pretending anymore. Milk was flowing directly from her only slightly older cousin's breast into her mouth, and Jackie was dutifully swallowing it while laying across her lap in what by now was a quite sodden diaper. Even in Jackie's mind, there was no way around the idea that she was now nothing more than an oversized infant who had no other role in the world than to be taken care of. Thinking about it made her cry even more. Slowly, Jackie suckled her way through her humiliating breastfeeding. The milk came out much slower than it came out of bottles, and the result was that just the first breast took Jackie nearly 20 minutes to drain. The milk was far more watery than the sickly formula that she normally drank, and some of it did indeed drip down onto the bib she was wearing. When she finished, Melissa moved quickly to make the other breast available, and Jackie once again had to endure the humiliating process of suckling her cousin's nipple until it ran dry. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she finished. Seemingly just to add another level of humiliation, Melissa pulled Jackie up so that her head rested on her shoulder and patted her back until Jackie let out a loud burp, which she had to admit did make her stomach feel better, even though she hadn't felt particularly poorly at the start. After she burped, her mother came over and addressed her. “See. That wasn't so bad, was it? You could have made it a lot easier for yourself by just being a good girl.” Jackie thought that her mother's comments made it pretty obvious that she had never been breastfed after earning a bachelor's degree, but left that thought safely within the confines of her own head. Instead, she simply opened her mouth as her mother reinserted her pacifier. “Come inside with me, baby. It is timeout time for you.” Jackie got off of the seat and crawled behind her mother into the house. In the living room, Jackie's mother strode over the corner. Jackie followed her until eventually, her mother crouched down beside her. “Since we don't have your timeout stool or your bouncer, timeout rules are going to be a little different for you today, baby. Kneel right here in the corner.” Jackie moved to do as she was told. Ultimately, her mother positioned her so that she wasn't facing the corner itself, but had her shoulder firmly in the corner and faced the blank wall in front of her. When she was satisfied, her mother continued. “Now, look over there. As you can see, we will be able to see you from the porch. But, just to make sure that you don't act up, you need to hold this penny up to the wall with your nose.” She showed Jackie a penny that was in her hand, then positioned it in front of her nose and pushed Jackie's head gently against the wall. She briefly left the room, then re-entered. Jackie dared not look, but her mother told her that she had brought out the baby monitor. “Every time I hear the penny drop, I will come back in and reset it. Every time that that happens also means another day of timeout in the jumper next week. If you are a good girl, I will come and get you when it is time for dinner. Then it is going to be straight to bed for you. You've been a very naughty baby. Now be good during your timeout.” Jackie tried to settle into her position, but realized immediately that this was going to be a difficult punishment, especially given how weak her legs were. Within just a few minutes, she was feeling a little stiff. Slowly, she shifted herself down from the upright kneeling position that she was in to a slightly lower position, all the while keeping her nose firmly pressed against the wall. For a moment this was more comfortable, but she soon realized that that position actually left her bearing even more weight, and tried to shift herself back up to the higher position. However, the penny seemed to catch on the wall, and her nose continued up while the penny dropped to the floor, loudly bouncing on the hardwood between her legs. Within a few seconds, Jackie heard the door slide open. Her mother returned to her side. As she replaced the penny, she said “Well, you made it 6 minutes. You were already going to spend to Monday thinking about how naughty you were this weekend. I guess you wanted to spend Tuesday the same way. At this rate, you might get to spend two weeks thinking about how much of a bad baby you've been. It's your choice.” Jackie resolved to avoid spending the next two weeks in the torture sling. This time, she held firm in her position, even as her legs experienced increasing discomfort. Eventually she had pushed past the pain and reached a point where she was just waiting out the time. Suddenly, however, the penny fell. She couldn't believe it. She was no longer bothered so much by the position. Instead, she had simply lost focus. Her mother returned, and, as she replaced the penny, she commented, “Well, you are more than halfway through your timeout, but you're also in timeout for more than half of next week. Mommy doesn't mind though. All I have to do when you are in timeout is feed you in the bouncer. I don't even have to change you until bedtime.” After she left, Jackie made sure to keep her focus 100% on the penny. It made the time pass incredibly slowly, but she was determined to keep her boredom the next week to a minimum. When the time was finally up, she had been so focused that she was startled by her mother announcing that it was time for her dinner. Gratefully, Jackie pulled her nose back from the wall and somewhat flopped onto her diapered bottom, which reminded her of just how wet she was. Jackie didn't really care, however, as she stretched out her legs for as long as she could before her mother beckoned her to follow her into the kitchen. Most of the party was still out on the deck preparing for a barbeque dinner, so the kitchen was basically deserted. Jackie was quickly boosted into the highchair and fastened in. In the mostly empty room, dinner proceeded fairly quickly, with the only people who were in there focused on preparing food to be cooked out on the grills and not bothering to make any comments on Jackie's feeding. The clock read just after six when her mother started feeding Jackie her after dinner bottles. As Jackie was slurping down the second one, Melissa carried Kendra into the kitchen and announced that she would be reserving the highchair next, as if there was really much of a line. At that point, Jackie's mother told her, “When you are done with your dinner you owe Auntie Melissa a big thank you. She brought along some of the milkies that she pumped out since Kendra stopped drinking up during the day a couple of weeks ago in bottles. She is going to give it to us so that you can drink it even after we go home! Isn't that exciting?” Jackie wasn't impressed, but when the empty bottle was removed from her mouth, she dutifully said thank you and, at her mother's prompting, she even gave her cousin a peck on the cheek. “Let's get you a bath and then get you off to bed, my naughty little baby,” her mother said. Soon she was in the bathtub in the bathroom, her soaked diaper finally off. After a very quick but thorough scrubbing, Jackie was dried off. On the floor of the bathroom she was taped into one of her extra thick overnight diapers and then dressed in an ultra-short, pink nighty that left her diaper entirely exposed. She was led back through the living room and into the bedroom that was to serve as a nursery for her and Kendra. In practically no time, she was tightly wrapped in blankets and stuffed into her tiny playpen. Laying on her back, she was fed her standard nighttime bottles. Just as she was finishing up, Kendra was brought in, having obviously just had a bath herself. Jackie came to the realization that she was already tucked in for the night before even her 1 year old cousin was. While she knew she was being put to bed about an hour early because of her earlier misbehavior, she was still dismayed. Her mother soon made it worse when she asked Melissa “Is this when Kendra normally goes to bed?” “Yup,” Melissa replied. “7 o'clock is a perfect time for this little tyke.” “Hmm. We had been putting Jackie down at 8. Maybe 7 would be more appropriate. You can consider that your new bedtime, baby girl.” Melissa continued. “I'm just going to read Kendra a story. I'd be happy to give Jackie a good night kiss and get the lights on my way out if you'd like to head out and get some dinner.” “Sounds great. Well, goodnight little girl. Be a perfect little angel. I don't want to hear a single peep out of you tonight. We have a long trip tomorrow, so sleep well.” Her mother gave her a kiss on the head and left her as Melissa began to read Goodnight Moon to both Kendra and Jackie. When she was finished, she helped to ease Kendra off to sleep, gave Jackie the kiss she had promised her mother, shut off the light, and closed the door behind her, sealing Jackie in for a particularly long night in a particularly small bed. Given that it was still before her bedtime, Jackie was still lying awake twenty minutes when a stomach rumble forced her into a horrifying realization. She had not messed herself all day. This was extremely rare for her, especially since she had begun her current diet, and she assumed that it must have been a result of all the nervous energy that had been coursing through her body all day. Why she hadn't yet pooped wasn't really her concern though, as much as what was going to happen now. She knew that she would almost certainly be pooping within the next few minutes, especially since she couldn't even shift positions to try to help with the cramps. Still, Jackie decided that she would try to fight the urge. If she could just fall asleep, maybe her body would be able to hold out until morning. And so, with a desperate urgency, Jackie tried to drift off. Her efforts only seemed to make her more awake. Within a few minutes, she knew, as she had the day before in her car seat, that she would not be winning her fight. She didn't really give up, because she had a sense that a mess she made now would stay in her diaper until morning, but within just fifteen minutes of the first warning sign Jackie lost the battle, and a cramp led to a surge of soft, warm poop sliding into the seat of her diaper. There was more coming, and within a few minutes Jackie was lying in a particularly full messy diaper that smelled perhaps a little worse than normal, though that might have been simply mental because Jackie would be smelling it for so long. Her discomfort was immediate. Her only hope was that Kendra would wake up and be put off by the smell enough that she cried and somehow led to Jackie getting changed, but given that she had just fallen asleep and was showing no signs of stirring in the crib next to Jackie, that possibility seemed remote. She knew that she was never allowed to mention the state of her diaper, and she knew that making some sort of call over the baby monitor would probably only anger her mother. Instead, she guessed that she would have to try to somehow fall asleep. She knew that that would be tough. She remembered when she had been forced to sleep next to her playmate, Stephanie, when Stephanie had messed herself during a nap time. Stephanie had been extremely red-faced when it had happened, but had quickly drifted off to sleep. Jackie, however, had found the smell almost too much to handle. She had taken much longer than normal to fall asleep and had only done so because she was genuinely tired because she was normally asleep at that time. Tonight, the smell and the discomfort of her own poop had Jackie unable to escape the senses associated with her plight. As it had been when she was cooped up next to the exorbitantly smelly Stephanie, genuine drowsiness was what finally got Jackie to sleep. Even her filthy, stinky bum couldn't stop her from falling victim to the combination of a stressful day, a physically demanding timeout, and the (for her) late hour of 8:15. It was some hours later when Jackie was jolted awake by an unfamiliar sound. She could place that she was hearing screaming, but she could not figure out why. Eventually, she slowly remembered where she was, and realized that the screaming she could hear was her young roommate crying. Jackie desperately just wanted to get back to sleep, but that was not going to happen anytime soon with the noise coming from the makeshift crib just a few feet from her own. In just a few moments, Melissa entered the room, immediately whispering “Shh, shh, Mommy is here baby.” As she crossed over to Kendra's playpen, she took a sniff and whispered, “Ooh, I think I can smell what you want, baby.” Even with how tired she was, Jackie was clear-headed enough to think “No, that smell is me.” Instantly, she was filled with dread. Surely now her cousin would discover the mess in her diaper, and then who knew what would happen. Would she be subjected to the most humiliating of changes? Would she die of shame? Melissa's bent over and picked up her daughter, holding her tight while setting up a changing mat. Jackie heard the tapes being opened up, and then Melissa said “Ooh, stinky girl. Let's get you all cleaned up.” “What?” Jackie thought. Wasn't she the source of the acrid air in the room? Her diaper was certainly full of poop. She knew that from the way that it clung to her backside every time she wriggled in her tightly wrapped blankets. But her cousin was certainly proceeding as if Kendra was in a messy diaper herself, and surely she must be right, given that she now had the diaper open. Jackie didn't know if this would perhaps mean a reprieve for her. Kendra had soon been changed into a new diaper, and had stopped her fussing but for a few stray whimpers. “Let mummy feed you now honey,” Melissa said, and though Jackie couldn't see it from her position, she could hear that Melissa had begun to feed her daughter the same way that she had fed Jackie earlier in the afternoon. Eventually the feeding had ended, and as Jackie could hear Melissa get to her feet, she heard her say “Oof, baby, that might have been the smelliest diaper you have ever had. I'm going to have to take that straight out to the trash or else the room will smell all night.” Jackie started to breathe easier. Obviously, Mellisa did not suspect her of being the cause of the majority of the stench in the room. Her fear that she would be changed by her cousin seemed to be misplaced. Sure enough, after a few minutes of cooing Kendra to sleep, Melissa departed the room, never having even come over to the playpen where Jackie had been cooped up the entire time. Finally, Jackie's heartbeat finally began to slow down. She had been on edge for the entire time that Melissa had been in the room, which she guessed must have been close to a half an hour. As she settled down though, she realized for the first time that her mess was even more uncomfortable than it had been when she had fallen asleep for what she had assumed would have been the night. Then she had been trapped in a warm, gooey sludge that had seemed almost invasive in the way that it was slowly seeping up into her crotch and the wider regions of her thick nighttime diaper. Now, the mess felt quite different. It was thoroughly cold, which seemed to make it even more uncomfortable against her skin. It also had spread throughout her diaper. She could feel it caked onto the small of her back, almost all the way to the top of her diaper. She could tell that it was very much stuck to her skin now, and she felt reasonably sure it was the most unpleasant diaper she had ever been in. In a way, she began to wonder if she had been as lucky as she thought she had been. She was still glad that Melissa hadn't changed her, but had her mother come in when Kendra had broken out in crying and changed her while Melissa had attended to Kendra, surely she would be much more comfortable and already asleep, rather than helplessly trying to ignore the itchy, smelly mess that she was laying in. After what she could have sworn was hours of uncomfortably trying to fall asleep, morning seemed to come amazingly fast for Jackie. She woke up disoriented, which was helped by the fact that she was not woken up in her normal way. Instead of her mother gently rousing her, the first thing she heard was “Woo, Melissa, is that Kendra? Man, is it smelly in here.” “I guess it could be,” Melissa answered, “but she was stinky in the middle of the night, so I'd be surprised. I think you're the one who got this present.” “Uh-oh, are you the little stinker?” Jackie's mother asked, with her face just inches from her daughter's. As she unwrapped the tight blankets that had held Jackie immobilized over the course of her miserable night, they were both struck by a fresh blast of the horrible, acrid stench coming from around Jackie's waist. “Oh, yup, it's mine alright!” her mother called. “Whew, ok, well, I guess we won't be going first for breakfast after all. She's going to need a change right away or else everyone out in the kitchen will gag on their food!” As Jackie was helped out of the playpen by her mother, Melissa said “OK, I'll give Kendra a quick change and then take her out to the highchair.” Jackie was sat on a changing pad in the center of a room, where her mother took off her nighty, leaving her naked but for her diaper. As her mother laid her back down, Kendra was brought over and laid down next to her, which made Jackie feel distinctly exposed with her cousin looking down on her mostly naked body. The day before, Jackie would have been filled with an unbelievable discomfort at the realization that Melissa was about to see her being changed out of a messy diaper. This morning though, having been stuck in the filthy undergarment for so long, she was significantly less vain. Sure, she was still not looking forward to having her smelly crotch on display, but more than anything she just wanted to be clean again, especially since her cousin already had a pretty good idea about her diaper's content. Her mother opened up the diaper and both she and Melissa briefly turned away. “Man,” Melissa finally said, “that might be the grossest diaper I've ever seen. Hopefully Kendra only has to grow up once so I never have to deal with something like that!” “Yeah,” her mother responded, “this is as bad as I've ever seen, but she was a little easier to clean up the first time around. But oh well, babies can't help themselves, no matter how big they are. Isn't that right, princess?” Jackie was glad that she wasn't required to lisp out a response as her mother took the first wipe and began to carefully clean the caked-on waste off of her bald crotch. Kendra had been completely changed, dressed and gone to breakfast for nearly five minutes before her mother had finally gotten all of the poop off of her bottom. “You have a little bit of a rash, baby,” her mother announced. “Let's put a little cream on there for you.” After lotion was rubbed into her tush for another minute, which did make her bottom feel a little less itchy than it had, she was powdered and taped into a fresh diaper. Even as she was wondering why she was being taped into another overnight diaper, her mother said “We're going to leave pretty much right after we get you fed, so we might as well get you ready for our trip now.” Next Jackie found herself being dressed in another pair of white tights. Over her head came a seafoam green dress that was, as usual, far too short to do much to obscure the bulge underneath it, though Jackie was glad that it was at least more subtle than yesterday's, if no less babyish. A matching headband with a small green bow was placed in her hair, and finally her mary-janes completed the ensemble. Without needing to be told, Jackie crawled behind her mother and out towards the kitchen. She found herself amongst about a dozen pairs of legs, which she successfully navigated as she crawled over to the tiny highchair that sat in the corner of the room. She was helped into the baby furniture one final time, squeezing in tight as the tray was closed around her midsection. As her mother tied a bib around her neck, her father came over and took out her pacifier to give her a kiss. “Good morning, princess,” he said. “Goo moawaning, daddy,” she lisped. “I heard you were a very smelly girl this morning,” he said, loud enough for anyone in the kitchen who didn't already know to become aware that she had thoroughly used her diaper overnight. Jackie didn't know whether she needed to respond, but was given a reprieve when her mother approached and immediately began spooning oatmeal into her mouth. Although the feeding left Jackie's face as messy as usual, it was clearly somewhat rushed and industrial. She was quickly fed her bottles and then had her face cleaned. Apparently her parents had already packed, because she was told it was time to head out to the car as soon as she was done. Before she could get down though, several family members came over to bid her goodbye, all of them making sure to address her infantile status and to give her condescending kisses on the forehead. The last to come over was Melissa, who was holding Kendra in her arms. Melissa gave her a quick peck like all the others, then addressed both girls, saying mostly to Jackie, “Give your new friend a kiss goodbye! Next time you see her she will be much bigger, but who knows if you will have grown up at all.” Miserably, Jackie gave Kendra the babyish smooch that she had been trained to give when she was told to give a kiss, which Kendra sort of returned, sparking a wave of “awws” from the onlooking crowd. Finally, the tray pinning her into the tiny seat was removed and she was helped back onto the floor. Her parents finished their final goodbyes and Jackie was led to the door, which was opened to reveal her stroller just on the other side of the threshold. She got up and into it. With the family left in the house, she and her parents made their way down the long driveway and to the car. Once they reached the car, she was taken out of the stroller and her mother helped her up into the car while her father folded the stroller and put it in the trunk. Jackie settled into the carseat and her mother began to tighten the restraints, once again leaving her immobilized. “I hope you had fun this weekend, baby, because you are going to have a long time this week to think about what a naughty girl you were yesterday afternoon,” her mother said as before she closed the door. Momentarily alone, Jackie sighed. She certainly had not had fun at the family reunion. It had been terrifically embarrassing, and it had led her to get into more trouble than she had since her first few rebellious days of her reduced status. She wished that they had never come. And now she had a day in the car where she would have nothing to do but think about her embarrassing life and the numbingly boring days of punishment she had ahead of her. As they got on the road, Jackie's thoughts drifted back to the last thing that Melissa had said to her at the reunion about the next time she would see Kendra. She had little doubt that Kendra would be grown, as she had only seen Melissa twice now in the last five years and it seemed unlikely that that pattern would change so dramatically that Kendra would still be a tot the next time the family got together. Jackie sincerely hoped that when they met again though, she would have been allowed to mature too. It was pretty clear that her parents intended to keep her as a baby for some significant period of time, but she kept hope that it would end at least within the span of a normal babyhood, even if she did know enough from her developmental psychology class to know that her parents' rules for her behavior didn't really correspond with any actual age. If Jackie met a six year old Kendra still stuck living the way she was now, she thought she might just go insane. She resolved to find a way to ask Stephanie on their next play date how she had managed to keep her mind from going to mush over the four years she had been stuck as an infant. As disturbing as Jackie's contemplations were, they did do a nice job of passing the time. The next thing she knew, her mother passed back her morning snack of a bottle. Jackie brought it to her mouth and began to drink, almost choking as she realized that it was breast milk that filled the bottle. Her mother chuckled as she watched in the rear view mirror. “That is one of the bottles that Melissa was nice enough to save for you. We have enough for you to have one a day for a week. Aren't you lucky?” Jackie didn't feel lucky at all. For one, the milk was cold, no doubt because that was the only way to keep it from spoiling, but that seemed out of place since she normally drank warm formula. In addition, while she wouldn't actually say that the taste was any worse than the sickly sweet formula she was used to, the difference was enough that she couldn't help but notice it. That difference only served to remind her of the miserable experience of being breastfed the day before. If the embarrassment didn't still sting so much, she wouldn't be able to believe it had really happened. Suckling on her cousin's nipple had been more difficult than latching onto the nipple of a bottle, and the milk had come out in strong squirts rather than the steady flow that she was accustomed to. All of that forced Jackie to focus intently on the breasts she had been draining, which made her even more aware of the embarrassing task she was feeding, and she had felt like her cheeks had been on fire as she heard the embarrassing comments that her relatives were making at her expense. Mercifully, Jackie soon drained the bottle of the embarrassing milk and was able to move on in her thoughts. She found herself extremely tired after her poor night's sleep. Even though she had had her bedtime moved up an hour to 7 o'clock, which meant that she would now be spending less time out of her crib than in it when naps were included, she had probably gotten less sleep last night than she had in months. Her body still looked the same as it had when she was still treated like an adult, but more and more she was physically turning into a small child. Not only was she increasingly incontinent, but her body now needed an infantile amount of sleep as well. Having not had it overnight, her body seemed intent on catching up now, and before long she fell asleep. She didn't wake up until her mother jostled her awake by checking her diaper. “Just a little wet,” she said, beginning to unbuckle Jackie from the seat. It took a moment, but Jackie realized that they had stopped at another roadside picnic area. She was helped down into the stroller, which confirmed that she wouldn't be changed. Just as she figured out that it must be lunchtime, she was wheeled over to a nearby table, and had a bib tied around her neck. The lot was deserted, so the feeding passed by without any incident, and Jackie was soon being refastened into her carseat for more of the ride. She was handed another bottle to drink as the car got going again. This one was just standard formula, and went down without much thought. Just as she was finishing, however, an almost seismic rumble occurred in her stomach. She handed the finished bottle to her mother and settled in for what she knew was a mess that was coming on fast. Although it had been relatively shortly ago that she had had the massive bowel movement in her makeshift crib, she wasn't really surprised. She had gone more than 24 hours from when she had messed in this very seat on Friday and when she had messed on Saturday evening. She was basically due for a day when she messed herself twice, as she hadn't since Wednesday and it usually happened every other day or so. Perhaps it wouldn't be today because she had gone so late last night, but she wasn't surprised that poop was on the way. As she had expected, it came quickly, and when it did it was nice enough to announce its presence. As she scrunched up her face and pushed hard to get the poop out into the diaper that was pressed so tightly against her by the seat, a series of long, noisy farts made sure that her parents knew exactly what was going on. In a few more minutes, she was finally able to relax, settling into what was now a warm and smelly load that was spreading around her backside. “Man,” her father said, “just after we could have changed her at lunch. Oh well, let's push on if its ok with you, we're making good time.” “I was thinking the same thing,” her mother replied. “She was really only a little wet. In her overnight diaper she could make it all the way home without her leaking, as long as the smell doesn't get to us.” “Great,” Jackie thought to herself. “Another long set of hours in a stinky diaper.” Still though, she knew that if they decided to drive the rest of the way without changing her she would be assured that there wouldn't be a repeat of the encounter they had had during her messy change on Friday, so perhaps the news wasn't all bad. After the effort required to mess herself in such tight quarters briefly left her body coursing with energy, but since she was so unused to having to exert herself in any way, she found herself feeling a tad tired. Although she had just woken up about an hour ago, it was her normal nap-time and she was still making up for lost rest. She soon drifted off once more. Jackie woke up a little more than an hour later, immediately noticing that her diaper had become colder and was somewhat itchy, though at least it didn't smell nearly as bad as last night's mess had. Her mother noticed her fidgeting and produced another bottle for her to drink. She finished it without too much haste. By then she was more awake and took stock of her surroundings. It was a few minutes after 3 in the afternoon, so if the trip was going as smoothly as it had, they would be well more than half-way home. Still, Jackie knew she had at minimum two more hours stuck in the carseat, and most likely the stinky pants as well. Her thoughts turned to the trip she was coming home from once more. She was glad she hadn't known it was coming. As bad as it was, she knew that anticipating it for more than just the car ride on Friday would have been just as agonizing. Still, she knew the trip would do her some real damage. No matter if she was ever allowed to re-enter the adult world, she would surely always be known by her extended family as the big baby who had demonstrated just how desperately she needed her diapers all weekend long. If she did get to go back to her real life, she decided, she probably never would go back to one of those reunions. The trip also made her look forward to being home. Her daily routine was boring, and mind-numbing, and a little embarrassing, but it was nothing like spending a whole weekend in the company of new people. She was glad to get back to anonymity again, even if she was still going to be forced to be a baby. Even though in many ways she did consider her life to be “that bad,” in a way she thought the trip had helped her to realize that it could be even worse. At long last, they pulled into the driveway. Jackie was glad to be home, ready to get a clean diaper, perhaps with a bath beforehand. She knew tonight she wouldn't put up a fight when she was fed the gross mush that made up so much of her diet. She would even be glad to sleep in her own crib again, where even though she would be wrapped so tightly by her mother that she would be sure to wake up sweaty, at least she would be able to extend her legs before the swaddling began. With a grateful sigh, she realized that her unexpected trip was over.

Hello everyone, this is a new story I'm writing, picking some suggestions from a previous topic I made and of course some personal details. I want to try to do something new and try writing with Points of View characters, I want to check out if I'm capable of giving different inner voices to different personalities. I'll be starting with two, might add more in the future. Some details. 1 - My stories feature Mini-Giantess and extremely short men, so if you don't like that please feel free to ignore this thread. 2 - This story is set in a world similar to Earth but just not it, just to avoid me the struggle of being consistent with education laws of a specific country. I know nobody would care about that but I would ENJOY! NOEMI I She couldn't believe she was finally out of that stinkhole of a place its inhabitants call a town. She was entering University, and in a large city at that! Finally no more meeting the same 3 people everyday, finally she could go dancing, she could go to the theatre, she could go to concerts, ANYTHING. Hell, if she wanted she cou- THOMPH! "Wa-was I hit by a truck?" Noemi wasn't a small gal. Not even for girls standards. Yes, women were indeed usually a 2 or 3 feet taller than men, but standing at 7'9 she was ESPECIALLY tall, even more so for someone who was 18. Most women don't stop growing until they are 30, but have a severe deceleration at 25; doctors have however predicted her probably not to stop before reaching 9 feet at the very least, making her one of the tallest women in the world. She looked down at the man who she hit. He was probably around her age or a bit older. It was always hard to say with men, considering their facial features don't change much after reaching the age of 20 and keep being basically the same until their late 40s. She helped him getting up, he was quite chubby and about average in height, not taller than 3'7. "I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention, I was just marveling at this place! It's huge!" he scraffled the dust away from his own body and then talked. "No worries, mate. It was my fault to pass in the women's corridor, I was kinda in a hurry and well..." "Noemi." she said firmly, shaking his hand. "George!" "Nice to meet you George! You said a WOMEN's corridor?" "Ay! It's for men's safe to have them separated, to avoid specifically what has just happened to us ahah!" "Yes. That's correct. And you should have known better, Mister." a deep womanly voice came from behind's Noemi's shoulders. It was an older woman, probably around 28 or 30, quite short for a gal, around 6'8, but the authoritative composure, the way she was dressed, accompanied by her frowning made her look twice as large. Noemi had seen her face when online when she was applying to the University. She was one of the assistant of one of her professors. "S-sorry Mrs. Flennigan, it-it won't happen anymore." he excused himself sheepishly, looking down. "I'm sure it won't. Or else." <Quite stern.> Noemi thought, but realized that probably men had been trampled over before this ruling was established. <Poor George.> "So... I'm going to my place. See you around I guess. Try not to die?" she said as she was leaving. Why the hell did she say that!? It was so unnecessary! Well, what was done was done. She walked off throughout the immense chambers of the University. What George said was true. She noticed there were a dark red path, burgundy coloured and a baby blue one, each going to different directions, but both reaching the various classes. The burgundy one was the one that was made for women, and it was noticeable. While the classrooms were common for everyone, there was no necessity for men's roofs to be as tall as those for women, so the baby blue corridors were much less high in order to save money to construct the building. Noemi had read that many Universities were built like that ever since they started allowing both men and women studying together. She kinda wanted to sneak in into the baby blue corridor, seeing all the little guys together was kinda cute and she wanted to steal them, but it was not something you want to do on your first day. Eventually, she reached her room. As she entered, she saw her roommate. And more. "Hey gal! Woah you're gorgeous! You must be my new sister in arms, uh? Welcome to my coven, babe! How tall are you? Woah!" this woman was already way more energetic than she expected to find, but she didn't mind. In fact, she liked it. If there was one thing that Noemi didn't like in people was unfriendliness, and at least on a surface level this woman didn't seem to have that in her. "I'm tall... a lot ahah! I'm 7'9, but I'm aiming for the stars! I'm Noemi! Nice to meet you and... your friends?" she had three men sleeping in her bed with her. All cozed up around her body, they looked like puppies trying to heat themselves up around their mama-dog. "Laura, and yeah, those are my friends. I swear nothing indecent happened here. We just were watching a film together and they fell asleep, aren't they the cutest?" "I wouldn't have minded, y'all adults and free to do what you please." "Nono, we are just friends, I swear, but hey! I feel the same!" "Good, 'cause I'm planning to get some for myself ahahah!" Noemi wasn't the shiest person herself. She wasn't a nymphomaniac by any means, but she liked having erotic activities. Especially lactation. Ever since she started lactating it had become a huge kink for her. Her breasts were immense even for someone her size, and became even more engorged now that they were filled with milk. "Won't they get mad if you take men in your room though?" "Nah, as long as you're the one carrying them around, people don't really mind. So..." Laura gently got up and tidied her friends under the sheets, making sure not to wake them up. Now that she was standing, Noemi noticed that she was pretty big herself. She was 7'3 at the very least, but also very bulky; she definitely was in a fighting sport. "Let's get out of here; I wanna show you around."

Hi guys! Here's my story for the The 4th Kasarberang Story Contest! The NON-CONtest #4 The story follows Emily, a young and chaotic woman who had recently began to work in a tech company. There, she meets David, the head of Software Development. He's cute and shy and lonely. Everything Emily's been looking for in a man...well, in her future adult baby. The story contains unwilling/forced regression, breastfedding, messy accidents, cum milking, and more. Hope you enjoy! PS: The story is already been completed. But I leave the ending open in case I might want to revisit the character for a sequel. David's Unwilling Regression Emily couldn’t stop looking through the window. The view from the Human Resources office was impressive, with skyscrapers rising almost as tall as the one she found herself in. Why had Sarah called her in? At twenty-four, Emily had never really gotten in trouble before. She had a sweet face, the kind that made people feel comfortable around her. With her bubbly disposition and pinkish hair, she was able to charm her way out of most situations. Many would describe Emily as wholesome if only they knew. The door opened suddenly. "Emily Andrews, right?" asked a stern female voice. Emily turned. Sarah was looking at her through thick-rimmed glasses, her short blonde hair perfectly styled, her navy-blue blazer impeccably tailored. Although she was over twenty years older than Emily, Sarah didn't look older than thirty-five even if she was closer to fifty. "That's right," Emily said, “Morning, ma’am.” There was a moment of silence before Sarah spoke. "Please take a seat," said Sarah with an air of superiority in her voice. If there was something Emily hated the most, it was pretentious people who thought they were better than her. "Do you know why you were called here?" asked Sarah, once again, in a tone of superiority that Emily couldn’t stand. At that moment, the young woman made a mental note. After David, she would help Sarah rediscover her babyhood. The thought of them sleeping together in a crib was exciting. "I assume it is about David," said Emily. "Indeed." “David Carter was our head of software development. That’s an important position in a tech company.” “Excuse me, ma’am. But can you be more straightforward? I don’t need to be told about David’s…I mean…Mr. Carter’s resume,” Emily said, knowing quite well now why she was there. It wasn't every day that the head of Human Resources had to deal with an employee's potty accident. It had only taken Emily a month to turn David from a shy boss to a cute diapered boy, and she couldn’t be more proud of herself. From the very first moment she saw him, Emily knew it was meant to be. There he was, walking with his perfectly ironed suit and tie, trying hard to command respect. She had started working at the company as the new social media manager that week. Twenty-four and ambitious, she couldn't help but notice David's boyish look. Although he was well in his thirties, David still had that baby fat around his cheeks that made him look so cute. She had never told anyone, but ever since she could remember, she had imagined herself as someone's Mommy. It clicked then, when she first saw David, that he was perfect for the role. "Apparently these bathroom accidents…" Sarah paused and Emily had to force herself not to chuckle, "...started when you began working here. That's what his co-workers assume. Of course, no one in their right mind would think you had anything to do with it, right?" Emily smirked, "I might've been an enabler. But it was not my doing." "Enabler?" "You see, David, he had never really liked the idea of being an adult." "Excuse me, can you repeat that?" "Well, when we started talking, it came out that he had a thing for feeling small. If you know what I mean..." "Feeling small?" asked Sarah incredulously. "You see, David seems to like to be treated like, well, like a baby. And I'm afraid I may have encouraged that." "You mean..." "Diapers, onesies, bottles. You know, that sort." "How? How did you encourage something like that?" asked Sarah, and Emily could see genuine curiosity behind her eyes. Emily smiled with mischief behind her eyes. Chapter One During Emily's first day at her new job, she had noticed a man in his thirties often alone. He was cute and she couldn't stop thinking about him wearing a diaper and begging for Mommy's breasts. So one day, she sat at the same table where David was eating a burger and fries. The poor man was so confused when Emily smiled at him and asked him about his day. It was as if something lit up behind his eyes. Boys, after all, felt lonely most of the time. Emily hated that. In her mind, if she could diaper them all and make them feel special, she would. They talked about his work, and when that was over, she turned the conversation to video games and movies. It was so cute to see him so happy about his PS5 and his computer, which he had built himself, mind you... After that first day, Emily would sit with David every day for lunch, and they would talk the entire time. Once she had his trust and attention, Emily decided she needed to begin the next stage of her plan. “So, David,” she told him with a flirtatious smile, “I’ve noticed you don’t drink enough water throughout the day.” David blushed, “I’m not a big fan of water.” “But it’s so important to remain hydrated.” “I know, but…” She placed her hands on his, “Look, we are friends, right?” David nodded. "Then let me help you." David's eyes lit up. Of course, this little boy would feel special with Mommy's gentle touch. Even if he didn't know Emily was his Mommy yet. Perhaps it had been a long time since someone showed him this kind of attention. “I don’t know…” “Our offices are not that far, right? Tell you what, I’ll be dropping by every now and then with water for you.” “You will?” “And I swear it’s not just an excuse to visit you, silly.” She gave him a wink. True to her word, Emily would visit David's office every day with a bottle of water. Sometimes, she would even go twice a day. Of course, she knew there was no way David would have a potty accident just by drinking lots of water. But thanks to this new routine, she spotted him rushing to the bathroom more often. It was time for the next phase of her plan. A simple, yet strong diuretic in David’s water was all she needed. “So, how have you been?” asked Emily that day, entering David’s office. “Oh, hi Emily. Just had a lot of work, I’m sorry I can’t give you much time today. There’s a big meeting in thirty minutes.” “No worries. I just came to make sure you keep yourself hydrated and wish you luck.” “You can leave the water over my desk.” “No Mr. I ain’t leaving until I see you drink it. You know the drill.” “It’s really not a good time…” “No buts.” “Emily, please. I don’t want to be rude.” But Emily wasn’t going to accept a no for an answer. She pressed and pressed until David agreed. He drank as much water as he could just to send Emily away. “See you at lunch?” asked Emily. David nodded and went back to his work, feeling a bit overwhelmed by Emily's insistence but also touched by her concern. Emily left shortly after, but her eyes were glued to David’s office. It would be a stroke of luck if his first potty accident was in front of everyone. One by one, people entered the office. That must’ve been the meeting David was talking about and a sadistic smile formed on her face. She waited patiently for a minute, then ten, then almost thirty minutes when the door broke open, and David rushed out in desperation. Of course, Emily followed him. A sobbing little mess welcomed her in the bathroom. Emily had to act as if it had been a surprise. “David? Is that you? What happened?” David didn’t answer. "David?" He just kept sobbing, overwhelmed with humiliation and shame. Emily had to fight a smile as she saw just how wet David was. She kneeled next to him, “Look, it’s an accident. It can happen to anyone.” “But I’m an adult,” said David in between sobs. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. “Adults can have accidents too. Why don’t you leave work early today? Go back to your place and get yourself clean. How’s that sound?” Patience was key, and even if she wanted to get him clean herself, she knew she couldn't. She couldn’t just take him by the hand and diaper him just yet. Not yet… “But my meeting…” “I’ll make an excuse for you. Just get to your car. Okay?” David nodded, feeling grateful for Emily's understanding. “But how am I going to get to the parking lot like this?” “Your pants are dark enough that it shouldn’t notice too much. Just walk fast and don’t stop, alright?” David nodded again. After that first incident, Emily just needed to be consistent. It happened again, and again. To the point that she started carrying new pants and underwear for David in case he had an accident. Finally, when it happened for the tenth time, she made her move. “Listen, David…” she started as she walked into his office, closing the door behind her, “I think we should have a talk…” “About?” “About your little issue…” David blushed. He had tried everything to stop these accidents, but nothing seemed to work. “Oh. I’m sorry about that. But the doctor told me there’s nothing wrong with me, so it might be just stress. That’s why I’ve been meditating and doing yoga and…” “That’s wonderful, but I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be peeing yourself all the time. And don’t get me wrong, you’re a great guy and I don’t mind helping you when it happens. But you’re a boss here, and if people find out…” David blushed even redder, “They can’t...” "And they won't. I promise. But we need to do something." "I don't know what else to do." "Well, have you thought about protection?" Emily thought David couldn't go any redder. She was wrong. "What do you mean by protection?" Emily explained her idea, and of course, David hated it at first. But that's why patience pays off. She simply had to point out every accident he had had in the last few weeks and just how difficult it had gotten to keep it a secret from everyone in the company. "But diapers are for babies..." "Then why do they make adult diapers?" asked Emily and David had no answer for that question. There was a moment of silence before he agreed to it. "Great," said Emily, closing the door to David's office so that no one could come in or see what would happen inside. "Let's start now. Okay?" "Now now?" "Yes..." said Emily, and she pulled a large white diaper from her backpack. "I don't know your size, but I think this one should do the trick." David blushed. "What are you doing?!" he asked when Emily stripped him of his pants and underwear. "Shhh," she said, "Or people will get suspicious." "But..." "Do you know how to put one yourself?" she asked, now getting impatient. And perhaps David felt that shift in her energy because he simply shook his head and looked down. Gently, Emily laid David over a changing mat she had procured from her backpack. The poor boss didn't know what to say or how to resist, so he just went along with it. Emily took the diaper and opened it, placing the soft, white padding against David's skin. For David, the whole process felt peculiar, but not unpleasant. He was too overwhelmed to express himself, and Emily noticed it. "We'll take it one step at a time," she told him, "Is that okay?" David nodded. "Good, now put your pants on. And if you need a change, just come to me..." "A change?" "Well, it's bound to happen. And I don't trust you to change yourself, Mr. Potty Pants. Besides, we want to avoid leaks, right?" David blushed and Emily smiled inside. It had begun, and David's regression would not stop. Soon, she will have him incontinent and docile. He would beg her to move in with him and then that would be it, David would be hers forever. Chapter Two David's first week back in diapers was full of surprises. The very first moment the thick padding touched his skin had been full of emotions he couldn't understand. Yes, there was shame in the mix, but also a sense of comfort he hadn't known before. It was strange, and Emily was strange. What had begun as mere friendship had turned into a bizarre dynamic he both hated and craved. Emily would come to his office at least twice a day to check his diaper. Often, she would do it when there was no one. One time, however, Emily did it right in front of David's assistant, Madeline. Cute girl a bit older than Emily herself. David turned as red as a tomato as he felt Emily's fingers against the waistband of his diaper. "All dry," said Emily, "Good job." "What's going on?" asked Madeline, fighting a giggle, "Boss?" "It's just a joke we have," said David, blushing. "Yeah," said Emily, chuckling, "Just a joke." Madeline didn't seem convinced, but she didn't press the matter. David could feel her eyes on him as he returned to his work, but the week continued with no other incidents until his second meeting on a Friday afternoon. He couldn't concentrate on anything but a strange, unsettling sensation that had begun to build in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't long before he found himself making excuses to leave the conference room and rush to the bathroom. The shame of pooping himself while everyone around him was discussing financial projections was overwhelming. It made him feel like a little boy in kindergarten instead of the big boss he really was. He made it to the bathroom... But it was too late by the time he pulled his pants down. Right there, his bowels let loose, filling every inch of his diaper. Speechless, David couldn't do anything but move around to allow the mess to spread equally. The sensation was even stronger than whenever he peed himself; when it was over, he couldn't help but sob a little as he realized what he had done. Those shameful tears were met with Emily’s gentle hand stroking his arm. "Shh, it's okay," she said softly. "Now tell me, what's that smell?" David wrinkled his nose, knowing quite well what that smell was. "I... I had an accident." He felt so tiny under Emily's watchful gaze, and the fact that she saw him in this vulnerable state made him squirm. Yet, instead of scolding him or making a snide remark, Emily gently patted his arm as if to comfort him. "Shh, it's okay," she whispered soothingly, "That's why diapers are so perfect for you. As soon as I change you into a fresh one, we will forget this ever happened." For a second, David's shame faded. Was Emily for real? Did she truly didn't care about the mess he had just made? He didn't need an answer. The young woman locked the bathroom door and procured a changing mat, changing supplies, and another diaper from her bag. "Don't worry. I'm here for you..." said Emily as David tried to complain. "But I'm not a baby..." If he wasn't one, he sure made a good impression of a toddler in need of his Mommy. Emily cleaned him thoroughly before applying some baby powder all over his private parts and locking him back in a diaper. "See? All clean and ready to keep going with your day." She tap-tapped his fresh diaper with a satisfied smile. "You know I've been thinking...maybe we can hang out outside of this work environment one day. you could show me your video games if you want." David gulped, his heart racing at the thought of having a girl over. It had not happened in a while, and he wasn't sure if it would be a good idea. But Emily had been so caring and understanding...the least he could do was accept. "Great! I'll see you after work later." "You mean tonight?" "Of course, you silly." As Emily walked out of the bathroom, she chuckled to herself. It would happen soon. She only needed to push a few more boundaries and David would become hers. He didn't know it, but with his first messy accident, David had practically sealed his fate. No protests. No nothing. He had allowed her to take full control and it was all due to patience. That night, they met in the parking lot and used David's car to get to his home. Emily, ever-assertive, insisted on driving despite David's attempt to take the wheel. It was a beautiful summer evening, and their destination, David's spacious modern apartment, was only a few miles away. "Before we start, are you in need of a change?" Blushing, David shook his head. "Well, I'm not sure you can be trusted with that, though. Why don't you remove your pants?" "What?! "You heard me..." "I'm not doing that." "I'm not starting the car until you do." "But..." "I can't believe it," said Emily, playing her part masterfully, "After everything I've done for you..." She opened the door of the car and was about ready to leave when David stopped her. "Wait...I'll do it." "Really?" He nodded. "No one will see. But it will help know when you need a change." David blushed as he removed his pants. The drive to David's home was fast. Emily could barely focus on anything besides the sight of the growing bulge in David's diaper. She felt an inexplicable mix of excitement and awe. It was obvious to her that David couldn't think about anything else but his current situation. He even peed himself a little and blushed when he did because Emily saw the entire thing happen. "Ow, that's okay. That's what diapers are for." David blushed and looked away. "I don't mind. I don't mind at all." "But why? I'm an adult. I'm older than you. I shouldn't be..." he paused, "But you are, and I don't mind. Isn't that enough?" He blushed once more, looking so cute Emily couldn't think of anything but grab his wet diapered crotch and kiss him. "Do you really like me?" "More than you think." Once they arrived, Emily parked the car in an underground garage and led David to the elevator. David followed her silently, wondering what Emily had in store for him. He was already nervous, but her mere presence made him feel oddly tranquil as though everything would be fine. When they reached his apartment, she walked directly to the living room and placed her bag on the coffee table. She looked around and did a quick scan of the room. It was done in neutral colors with a sofa and an armchair in front of a TV stand that seemed almost too big for the room. "Sit with me," said Emily, pulling David over her lap. She unbuttoned his dress shirt slowly, exposing his smooth, pale skin. For a moment, it felt like she was peeling away a layer that had kept him hidden for far too long. Her fingers traced the ridges of his spine down to his lower back, and she gently tugged on the waistband of his diaper. "Emily... I don't think..." David trailed off. He wanted to resist, to stand up and take control. But he didn't... Here he was, an adult, sitting over a young woman's lap while he wore nothing but a used diaper. It would be a humiliating moment, if not for the fact that Emily didn't seem to be bothered by it. If anything, she was quite interested in touching his diaper whenever possible. That's why David did nothing when she first touched his padded crotch. He didn't even flinch as Emily'd soft fingertips caressed the barrier between his legs, tracing the contours of his diaper. "Wait..." "Shhh..." said Emily as with her free hand, she placed her thumb inside his mouth. "Suck on this." David hesitated for a moment but did as he was told. He sucked as Emily rubbed the front of his wet padding, and as he increased the rhythm of his sucking, Emily rubbed faster. It didn't take much longer for David to cum inside his wet prison as he did, he began sobbing. "Good boy," she whispered, kissing him gently. "That's okay. You did okay." The shame of what he did combined with the pleasure of it all broke him for a minute. And when he came back to reality, Emily had already changed him into a fresh new diaper. She gave him a small smile and a reassuring pat on the backside before helping him stand up. He blushed as he did. Emily chuckled at his embarrassment but didn't say anything. Instead, she walked over to his kitchen a poured herself a glass of wine. "I think we should have a little talk..." said Emily. David didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. "I've been thinking for a while now. It doesn't really seem like you are getting better with your potty accidents." she paused to notice David blushing when she called her incident potty accidents, "Don't get me wrong. Don't panic. I truly don't care. In fact, I kinda enjoy changing your stinky diaper today. So I've been thinking that you and I should date. What do you think? Do you want to be my boyfriend?" David was confused. The conversation had turned out to be something he wasn't expecting at all. He wondered if he had misheard her, but Emily's gaze was earnest. She sat there, waiting for his answer, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly nodded. "But Emily, I'm an incontinent almost-middle-aged man in diapers. Why me?" Emily chuckled softly. "Because I like you, you silly baby. I don't mind changing your diapers. However, there's one thing I want from you if we start dating." "What's that?" "I'm the one that changes your diapers, that puts me in charge of you. So, I want to be fully in charge." "What do you mean?" "As long as we are together, I wear the pants in the relationship; you, well, you wear the diapers." David blushed. "So, what do you say?" asked Emily, "Would you like to be my baby boyfriend?" Chapter Three Emily had made it clear that David wasn't in charge anymore at least not outside his role in the company. So when David accepted her offer and became her boyfriend, things changed rather quickly. It started with small things, like choosing his wardrobe for the day or deciding what he would eat; even how much time he had for playing video games after work. She had even taken over the spare room, "I'm only doing a minor remodeling. It will be a surprise," she told him one day. As for David, he was completely under her control at home and in the office. "Now, who needs a change?" Emily would ask every single time and David would blush and answer, "Me." That was his favorite part, diaper changes. It had become a ritual for the two of them. Every time, Emily would gently clean every inch of his diaper area, and when she was over, she would give her baby boy a treat. With her gentle fingers, she would often massage David's prostate, milking him into submission. It was all part of her plan, though. Soon David would associate diapers and Emily with sexual pleasure. It had all worked out, and David was ready for the final stage of her plan. The moment when he would choose to be a diapered baby instead of a man. One morning, after getting David ready for work, Emily gave her baby boy a bottle of milk with something extra. A subtle yet powerful laxative. David didn't protest or argue, he simply drank the bottle full of milk and they were on their way to work. It was an important day for David, he was to make a presentation for the CEO and he was ready and determined to show his skills and talents. Emily found it cute and wholesome, and she would tease him about it. "Well, good luck. And if you need me to change you after your presentation, I'll be in your office." David blushed and said, "Thanks..." Soon, David found himself in the conference room. A fresh diaper under his suit made him feel secure that he would nail that presentation. But as he faced the CEO and his coworkers, David felt a mix of anxiety and horror when his tummy let out a loud grumble. The women present giggled at it, which only served to make David blush. "We are waiting for you, David," said the CEO, a woman of his age with a kind face but David knew she was anything but kind. "Right..." he stuttered. David felt the pressure building in his abdomen as he tried to keep his composure. He couldn't focus on his presentation, and instead of giving his best, he was just trying to keep it all together. The CEO cleared his throat, and David felt his heart race. With trembling hands, he continued his presentation, but the pressure in his abdomen only increased. It was impossible to ignore the sensation as his stomach rumbled again. This time, the women in the room couldn't hold back their laughter, and it took every ounce of restraint for David not to run out of the room. "Are you alright, David?" asked the CEO, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm just a little nervous," David replied, trying to regain control of the situation. "Pull it together. Jesus Christ, you're a man. If you need to use the restroom just go." said the CEO, glaring at David. But just as he was about to continue, his stomach rumbled one last time. As far as he was concerned, that was it. David stood there as he filled his diaper with the most explosive diarrhea ever. It was a forceful release that made him blush from head to toe. Then...silence...and all of a sudden laughter, echoing through every corner of the room. The CEO's eyes widened, and she covered her face with her hand. Heat surged through David's cheeks as he felt every ounce of his dignity and authority draining away. Looks Like the Baby's Made a Messy. Someone Clena Him, it Stinks In Here. Pathetic. And those were just some of the words David could hear as he remained speechless and immobile. "Fuck's sake. Who thought you were a good fit for this company?" asked the CEO with a harsh and severe tone. "Get the fuck out of my sight." David nodded, but as he moved, his pants gave away, falling to the ground, revealing his completely messed diaper. Now even the CEO was laughing, and David started sobbing, craving for the comfort of Emily's arms. It was the most humiliated he had ever been... Something broke inside David that day. After Emily found him, she took him back home in his messy diaper and shirt, exposing him further to everyone in the office as they walked to the parking lot. David was sobbing and looking down, allowing himself to be dragged by his younger girlfriend. As they walked, people muttered and whispered and pointed and laughed. For David, it was the worst moment in his life. For Emily, it was the beginning of the life she had always wanted. Back at home, Emily cleaned her adult baby boy. "Honey, I think you're not ready to be an adult yet...." she said, and David didn't argue. "From now on, I'm taking care of your every need. Understood?" David said nothing. "Good. Let's put you for a nap. You must be exhausted from this horrible experience." She took him to the spare bedroom, where she had already set up a changing table, a crib big enough for him, and downs of other baby items. Once again, David said nothing. He just allowed Emily to place him inside the crib as she kissed him goodnight and gave him a pacifier. That was it for David. He never recovered from the humiliation. Emily insisted he should forget about work and stay with her. That she could provide for the two of them and he didn't need any more responsibilities. David never again spoke and he would often find himself zoning out as he played with toys and watched cartoons. It was a few days later that Emily was called to the Human Resources office. Sarah was speechless as Emily told her the lie about how David had asked, even begged, to be put in diapers. How she had found it cute back then and agreed, and then she said, He now lives a very happy life. I can show you some pictures," “I don’t think that would be appropriate,” said Sarah, who for some reason, couldn’t look at Emily in the eyes. “I must assume that he won’t be coming back to work.” “I mean, I could bring him here. But he gets bored very easily now and the office doesn’t offer a nursery area or babysitters. But if you really are worried, why don’t you come with me? I bet he would love to see a friendly face.” Emily said to Sarah, planning, even then, for a baby sister for her baby boy. Sarah blushed, "Really?" Emily smiled at Sarah with malice behind her eyes. Unknown to the older woman, Emily had already started her plan to regress her from the Head of Human Resources to a babbling baby in need of her Mommy. Emily wondered if she could break her record and turn Sarah into a baby in less than a few weeks. "It would be fun. Think about it," said Emily with a sweet and reassuring tone.