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Found 124 results

  1. The Joy of Pooping

    This is probably more of a short take than a full story, but I could see adding more to it eventually: ********************* The first wave came over me intensely; I needed to poop. That was it--not even a moment’s pause between recognition and involuntary response. Slowly, meaningfully, a thick strand of poop began to make itself known. My colon pulsated slowly around it. Peristaltic flow took over, I felt every inch slowly, inexorably, moving purposefully downwards towards my relaxed and expectant anus. Mommy nudged me softly, cradling me against her breast and patting the seat of my diaper affectionately. Almost imperceptibly, my legs eased apart as the expanding rod of poop crested momentarily, then pushed smoothly past my sphincter with an amazing ballooning feeling. It stretched to allow the substantial and growing flow of poop to pass, opening wide to allow the massive log to slide past. The entire load expanded slowly and blissfully into the seat of my Pampers. My unplanned and profoundly surprising bowel movement pressed firmly at first, then seemed to flow naturally, burrowing into the seat of the extra thick Pampers Mommy had dressed me in earlier. She had smiled this morning when I noticed the extra thick diaper she had laid out on my changing mat (“my†suddenly triggering an odd sensation, deep recoil at the absurdity of my situation--the realization that this unfathomable arrangement was now my everyday reality). “I think you’ll be needing these today. After the accidents and leaks of the past few days, you’ll be needing some more serious protection.†She had lifted my legs, then slid the diaper directly underneath my bottom. She then began to let me in on all that had happened while I had been asleep. “Sweetie, you’ll find that the nanobots have completely severed all nerve connections to your bladder and bowels. These Pampers are designed to keep you dry and comfortable during the day, no matter what happens. They are designed to protect your delicate skin and keep you from getting diaper rash.†I luxuriated in an indescribable sensation as the Pampers were positioned underneath my bottom, the ruffled edges and leak guards slightly tickling my inner thighs. She then reached over to a bottle of Desitin, applied a thick smear of cream to her gloved hand, then began applying it liberally to my perineum, thighs and scrotum. My little pee-pee stiffened at the sudden stimulation. This felt amazing. Glove off, her finger then slowly entered me to apply a water-based lubricant (“to help you go poopies, sweetie. It will help the big, firm ones make their way into your Pampers comfortablyâ€). I blushed intensely, but her finger sliding deep into my rectum just felt too good not to enjoy. She then powdered me gently, and snugly pulled the thick Pampers around my waist, fastening the tapes tightly. I felt an initial elation, straining against the fitted diaper, feeling it encase me. Suddenly, I remembered that this was serious. “nanobots?!†We had progressed beyond mere play to something... more. Cue to now, comprehending at the speed of peristaltic flow. Slowly the mass of firm (at first) poop began to crest, pushing its way insistently into the seat of my Pampers. Cradled against Mommy’s soft bosom, it felt completely natural to mess myself. Continuing to pour slowly out of me, my poop settled into a warm, softening mass in the seat of my diaper. It was such a strange and comforting sensation, all at the same time. It was as if I had always been missing something--the last puzzle piece had fit. How could I ever have pooped any other way before this? This was simply right. I hugged close to mommy as a final strand burrowed its way out of me, encased firmly and securely by the standing leak guards lining the insides of my bulging Pampers. At that moment, I looked up at “Mommy†and knew that she had won. As if sensing her victory, she slowly brought a hand down and patted the bottom of my stinky, full diaper. With her other hand she unfastened a button, then offered me a waiting nipple. I reached out, greedily cupped the offered nipple, and with much anticipation began to suckle at Mommy’s breast. Warm, oddly sweet milk began to ease down my throat. I felt beyond words--my full diaper was patted softly as I rhythmically suckled at her breast, enjoying every drop of Mommy’s sweet milk. “Don’t worry sweetie. Mommy will change your poopy diaper in a little bit. Just enjoy yourself.†There it was again: "your" poopy diaper. I was intensely and profoundly aware of it. An unmistakable smell of soiled diaper had permeated the room. I felt the warm mess clumped between my cheeks, but it felt oddly natural. It felt amazing, to tell the truth. I felt completely at ease as I suckled in the comfortable confines of a messy diaper. Suddenly, my bladder began to empty, adding a nice flush of warmth to the front of my Pampers. “The best is yet to come, Sweetie. You see, the nanobots can now complete their work. By tomorrow morning, your little pee-pee will have shrunk to an inch at full size. The remaining nanobots will painlessly castrate you.†An unexpected turn of events. I froze. “Sweetie, things are going to be different now. I’m going to be your Mommy, but you will have to accurately play the part of baby. Testes just don’t fit in to the whole new you that we’re working with. Don’t worry, though. You should still be able to orgasm by direct prostate stimulation, or by rubbing your new baby clit against your Pampers. The nanobots have increased the sensitivity of your rectal and anal nerve-endings to the point that any bowel movement should be as pleasurable as the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Plus, without your scrotum to get in the way, it will be easier to clean your messy bottom.†There was no arguing with her logic, despite the unexpected turn of events. She was right: filling my Pampers had felt agonizingly wonderful. It was as if the world had stood still while the expanding rod of poop blossomed from my backside and filled me with indescribable ecstasy. I had never felt anything nearly as intense or exciting as the massive poop that I had just released into my Pampers. I honestly didn’t care too much about the loss of my manhood, so long as I could count on enjoying this again. “I’ve put you on some bulk fiber, too, so you can enjoy nice, big poopies like this one at least twice a day. Didn’t it feel good to have a big, firm poopy sliding uncontrollably into your Pampers? Mommy knows how naughty you like to be in your dirty diapers.†She was in control now. I had asked for this, wanted this, begged for this. No sense regretting my predicament after getting everything I had asked for. The knowledge that I would still be permitted to orgasm in my diapers was comforting and arousing, despite the knowledge that I was otherwise going to be a pampered eunuch. Increasingly aware of my diminished status--turned on at the thought of my helplessness--I stiffened slightly and strained against my confinement. The feel of a firm mass of poop snugly contained in the seat of my Pampers was absolutely luxurious. I began to rock back and forth, slowly feeling it stimulate and press against my bottom. Mommy noticed, and began to slowly pat the seat of my diaper while whispering into my ear. “You like making big poopies in your Pampers, don’t you?†I moaned softly, then began to suck gently on the pacifier that she had popped into my mouth after detaching me from her breast. “It’s okay to be a baby, Sweetie. I’m going to make sure you enjoy each and every one of your poopy diapers.†It was blatant conditioning, but I couldn’t help myself. She had already told me the plan months ago. I would be reduced to a helpless infant, would enjoy the process, and would actively hasten it. I had laughed initially, but here I was, growing extremely aroused as she whispered soft encouragement into my ear. “It’s natural for babies to enjoy making a poopy in their diaper. It feels good to just let go, doesn’t it sweetie. You’ve been such a good baby for Mommy. I think you’re almost ready to learn about what else is in store.†With that, she held me close as I pathetically rubbed myself against the soft, welcoming folds of my wet and poopy Pampers. The sensation built to a steaming, creamy crescendo. I suddenly exploded in an eruption of unmitigated pleasure, feeling the thick mass of poop press against me as wave after wave of blissful orgasm enveloped me. Mommy softly patted the seat of my diaper, reassuring me that it was okay--this was okay. I felt numb, and sucked on the pacifier intently as Mommy cradled me in her arms and carried me over to the changing table. The huge load of poop squished against my bottom as she lowered me onto the soft foam padding; there was no denying what I had just done. I laid still, completely limp and exhausted, overcome by the intense orgasm I had just released into my poopy diaper. “My sweetie sure likes making squishees in his poopy diapers, doesn’t he?†She knew that this was the best time to humiliate me. I would feel naughty and vulnerable after doing something so infantile and perverse in front of her. She always insisted on a long and thorough diaper change after I had masturbated in my poopy diapers. This was another one of her rewards, designed to attract me to my own infantilization. I had to admit, it felt amazing as she slowly untaped my diaper, cool air suddenly making me aware of her ministrations. She first grabbed my ankles, then used the diaper to scoop a large chunk of the heavy, stinky load away from my bottom. She then warmed some wipes with her hands and gently, patiently, began to clean every nook and cranny of my messy bottom. I was beyond feeling ashamed. I had just expelled a massive load of poop into my Pampers, masturbated, and Mommy was taking it all in stride, making me feel intensely loved as she made sure I was cleaned thoroughly. Swipe after swipe, she wiped my bottom completely clean. This was so much better than using a potty. I suddenly regretted every bowel movement I’d ever had that didn’t end this way. Her work done, she placed the dirty wipes into my full diaper, then balled it up and taped it closed. My dirty diaper was then dropped unceremoniously into the nearby diaper genie, along with all of the other soiled Pampers that I had filled in the past few days. Mommy then reached behind me, grasping a bulging plastic package. As she brought the package into my field of view, I saw “Pampers Ultra Overnight Diapers†printed in large lettering on the outside, next to an image of a content diapered infant. “I’ll bet you’re exhausted after all that effort,†she whispered into my ear as I heard the packaging split open. I watched, dumbfounded, as she extracted an almost unimaginably thick diaper from the packaging. The unmistakable sound of an unfurling diaper accompanied a firm grip on my ankles. Smoothly, she slid the thick diaper underneath me; my freshly cleaned bottom resting on its thick padding. I thought I had been thickly diapered this morning, but this was taking things to a whole new level. The (newly) familiar feel of Desitin being smeared onto my bottom was quickly accompanied by a dusting of sweet baby powder all around my diaper area. She firmly drew the overnight diaper up and onto my tummy, smoothing the wings and taping it closed as my legs were pressed apart by its wide bulk. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, she picked me up, balanced me against her hip, and walked to the other corner of the room. As I adjusted to the sensation of a thick clean diaper enveloping me, she deposited me into a crib with a soft blanket and stuffed bear. Physically and emotionally overwhelmed by what had just happened, I snuggled against the bear while she pulled the blanket over my shoulders. My legs relaxed and spread outwards to accommodate the girth and thickness of my overnight Pampers. Exhausted, I began to drift off to sleep just as a slow trickle of pee began to seep into my diapers, soothing and enveloping me in its warmth--a promise of more to come.
  2. The Adventures of Alex

    SO I have been on here for a long time now and decided it was about time I wrote a story of my own, so please bare with me as it is my first. It is something that I started to write while on holiday so I hope that you enjoy. The adventures of Alex Who was Alex? Well Alex was what most people thought was a young man entering in the big wide world, free from school and the restraints that they had held over him. For many years he had been told what to do, when to do it and always by others. He had grown up under the strong influence of his mother, whom he loved dearly, but he could never bring himself to tell her his deep down secrets and desires. Alex had been late developing into the young man he was growing into, he was shorter than most, well everyone for his age, his voice had never broken and a genetic disorder had meant that he never grew body hair, only his head held the natural blonde locks that matched his mother. He had been slow to be potty trained, still wetting at night after control during the daytime had been achieved. He was just told by his mother that over time it would sort itself out, but his nigh time wetting would be taken care of by her. So for many years after, night after night, Alex's mother was there to make sure he went to sleep in a nappy and plastic pants, then as time moved on a disposable nappy. Alex's mother was a hard working lady, well respected in the business community, with many friends, but still loved her son more than anything else. She was 6ft tall and literally towered over her son; she made sure that she kept fit, using the gym in the house and the pool on her days off and at weekends. Having made a success of her business at a young age, she always made time for Alex, her mother helping to look after him while he was still a baby. By the time that he was ready for school, she was the one to take him and pick him up every day. This would seem odd to a lot of people as it carried on until he left school, some would have thought him a little mummy’s boy, had it not been for the fact that they lived in the countryside outside the main town and off the bus route. He had his friends in school and got on ok with them, more so with the girls if he where honest about it, but rarely did one ever visit his home, sleepovers being out of the question as he felt too conscious about the bedwetting. When he was younger, at nursery school, he had a few parties as wetting problems happened with a few at that age, so he didn't stand out from the others. So Alex was now free from the restraint of school and just about to turn 18 years old, his mother had asked him if he wanted a party, but he never really was the party person. Instead he asked if he could have a vacation somewhere quiet away from the world, but by the sea, where he could just chill out and relax away from everything. There he would have time to think about what his future held, decide what to go on to do regarding work or further education. But also he would have some time alone to let his little side out. This was Alex's big secret that he hoped no-one had found out about, or if they had, they had not said anything to him. Deep down, Alex was still that little boy, he had never really grown up and loved all the time he spent with his mother, he missed the time when she looked after him night after night. But over time he had become used to getting himself ready for bed, it was only natural that as he grew he would take more responsibility. He wanted so much for his mother to do this, but could never build up the courage to ask. So here he was going away on his own for the first time without "mummy", but it would give him chance to wear his nappy during the day if he wanted. He would have them with for night time use, so why not try them during the day as well; maybe he would get those feelings back from when he was younger that he craved so much. His mother was not overly surprised when he refused the offer of the party, so was more than happy for him to have his holiday that he asked for instead. Unknown to Alex, his mother had begun to realise that deep down she was missing having her "little boy" around. She loved looking after him when he was younger but as time went by, she knew she had to release the aprons strings a little and let him develop. His mothers had become a success in the computer industry with her own business, so giving Alex a computer for his school use fine, but she never let on to him that she could remotely access it. So from time to time she found herself checking up on what he had been researching, then purely by accident one day she found one of the sites he had been looking at, then the links to some of the stories he had been reading. She could see that he was reading about "little ones" who still had their mummy even when they were grown up, or little ones that had found and sought out a new mummy. As much as this hurt, she knew that to push would be a mistake, causing her to push him further away or worse still lose him. She decided that he could go on his vacation, let him think for a while but then let him decide what would happen next. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
  3. So I've been incubating this one over at Renko's place (for those who follow over there, it's under the working title "The Wannabe Hypnotist") and, since it feels like I've got a full head of steam again, I decided to post it here so you all can get a look at what I've been doing for the last several weeks instead of banging my head against the Panda wall, where I've been hopelessly stuck for ages... It's a hypnosis-type story, though set in a time far enough back to where all the technology one usually sees in these sorts of stories doesn't exist, so things kinda have to happen the old-fashioned way. Hope you enjoy! ---------------------------------------------- 1 I don't know what possessed me to do it. Maybe it was the rush of power. Maybe it was revenge for all the times she got away with shit that Ma never let me do. Or all the social life I missed out on in high school because I had to babysit her. Anyway, I did it, and while it was a hell of a thrill for a while, I took it way too far, and I've been regretting it ever since. - - - - "Alright ladies and gentlemen," Professor Price announced, snapping me out of my daydreaming, "I assume you are all prepared with your subject declaration for your final paper due next month. Please turn them in before you leave today." Shit! I thought morosely as he launched immediately into a lecture on some guy named Dement and his "important research about sleep", which made me chuckle a bit. Wonder if that's where "demented" comes from... Normally I'd just tune out and let my little portable tape recorder Mom bought me do the listening, but something the professor said caught my ear. I listened intently, my eyes widening with every word, my little old brain spinning with possibilities. I started scribbling in my notebook, putting together the declaration old Price wanted as fast as I could. I swear, for the first time since kindergarten, I was gonna have some FUN with a dumb old school project! Handing my paper to Price on the way out the door, I scampered to the parking lot. I piled into my beat-up old Brat and turned the key, silently praying it'd start, which thankfully it did. Ma bought me that old car when I got my license back in 10th grade. It was only five years old at that point, and still kind of okay. Now, two years later, I hated it, but the idea of working at the Piggly Wiggly or Big Boy on top of my classes and having to babysit my bratty little sister just to afford a new car just didn't seem worth it. My best friend Jessica's parents bought her a brand new '86 Trans Am when she graduated last summer, and even paid for her to go to some big fancy college all the way down in Miami. I get letters from her like every other week telling me how she's partying and living it up, while I'm still stuck here in Abbeville, which might as well be the middle of nowhere, going to community college. I drove home as fast as I dared, what with all the local cops having nothing better to do but pull people over. I swear, the biggest crime this stupid little town has ever had was when some black guy from Greenville tried to rob Jesse's Corner Grocery, only old Jesse put two barrels of birdshot right in his chest when he pulled his little knife. City folk can be right stupid at times. Anyway, no sooner did I get home and dump my books on the kitchen table than Gabby's bus come rolling up the street. You could hear that beat up old thing from half a mile away, I swear, with all the brake squealing and backfiring and all the other noise. I grabbed the mail out of the box while the bus pulled up in front of the house. No letter from Jessica today, just a bunch of bills and stuff for Ma to sort through when she got home. Gabby came bouncing off the bus, all three sets of ruffles on her little pink dress flopping up and down as she skipped across the road, showing off her little stretch tights. I just rolled my eyes. I spent my entire childhood in my cousins' raggedy old hand-me-downs, but she gets new clothes every other week! So unfair! Ever since Pa skipped town when Gabby was a baby, Ma had to go to work at the mill, and now she's a big-shot foreman, so she gets first pick at overruns and irregulars, which means Gabby always has something new to wear to school. Sure, I get new clothes a lot too, but still! "You got homework?" I asked as I opened the screen door. "Nope!" she said confidently, skipping through the door and dumping her school bag on the floor next to Ma's rocker. "You know that bag don't belong there!" I shouted after her as she made a dash down the hallway toward our bedroom. That was the worst part of living at home, having to share a room with my little sister her entire life. Ma kept saying she'd get an addition built onto the trailer so I could have my own room, but it never did happen. Now, every time I complained about it, she'd just invite me to get a job and go get my own place. So I was stuck putting up with my slob sister taking over the whole room with her mess and leaving me hardly any space for my stuff at all. She ran back out and grabbed her bag. "Hey, Skipper and Mary-Sue are goin' down to the crick to swim! Can I go too?" she asked. "I got schoolwork to do, and Ma said you can't go down there without me to watch you!" I huffed. "You never let me do NUTHIN!" she snapped, her eyes squinting up like she was gonna start crying. "I HATE you!" "Quit bein' such a baby!" I sneered back as I walked over to the sink. "I'm not a baby!" she yelled. "I'm tellin' Mama!" "Go ahead!" I hollered back. "And I'll tell her you lied about not havin' homework, 'cause Mrs. Beane already told Ma you're supposed to be studyin' every night since you're damn near failin' math! You know she'll whip your tail if you have to go to summer school again this year!" She shrank back at that and ran down the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind her. "Little brat think she can get over on me," I huffed as I set about washing the breakfast dishes. The words from our exchange rattled around in the back of my mind, and I started thinking about how much cuter she was when she was little, how she copied everything I did, and hardly ever sassed me or fussed at me when I told her to do stuff. An idea bubbled up somewhere, and I smiled a little. 2 "Come on, Ma! I gotta go to the library on Saturday for my Psych project!" "Beverly Jean, I can't help it, it's mandatory overtime. You'll just have to take Gabby with you." "I don't wanna go the dumb old library! Why can't I just go down to the crick with my friends?!" "Sweetpea, you know darned well you can't go off by yourself like that!" "Mama, I'm nine years old! I'm not a BABY anymore!" "Young lady, don't you dare sass me like that again! Now we are DONE with this conversation! If BJ's gotta go to the library, then you're goin' with her, and that's THAT!" Gabby and I humphed in unison, but neither of us dared protest any further. I glared at her, she glared back at me, and we both picked up our forks and resumed eating. There was a lull, then Ma spoke back up. "Now tell me about this project you're doin', BJ." I paused for a minute, choosing my words carefully, both to impress Ma and confuse Gabby. "Well, it's about the effects of auditory stimuli on delta wave sleep. That's why I gotta get to the library and check out some papers that were published a couple years ago. Apparently it was some real breakthrough stuff." Gabby didn't even lift her eyes from her plate, and even Ma had a little glazed look to her. "Well, that's lovely, BJ, I'm sure you'll do a great job. Gabby, you make sure and behave yourself on Saturday so Sissy can get her work done." "Yes, Mama." Gabby grumbled back. I wasn't looking forward to having her tagging along with me all day on Saturday, but I couldn't help but smile as Ma scolded her. That sword cut both ways, really. Ever since Gabby nearly drowned at the lake one summer when she was 6 and spent a week in the hospital with pneumonia afterward, Ma wouldn't let her go anywhere by herself. Of course, that meant most of the time that I had to tote her around and, more often than not, go suffer through whatever little get-togethers her little friends had going on. Thank God Ma hadn't made me attend a sleepover, but I swear it was coming sooner or later. I finished the dinner dishes and headed out to the living room to watch Dial MTV, just like I did every night at six. Not surprisingly, Gabby had the TV on Nickelodeon, watchin' that stupid cartoon she liked so much with the blond kid that talked to a rose all the time. "Gimme the clicker, Gabby," I demanded. "No! I'm watchin' The Little Prince! Mama said I could watch this show!" she yelled. "I ALWAYS watch Dial MTV after dinner, Gabby! Now gimme the damned remote!" I reached over to snatch it from her, but she twisted away. "No!" she screamed. "MAMA! I'M TRYIN' TO WATCH MY SHOW AND SISSY'S BEIN' MEAN!" "BJ! Let your sister watch her show!" Ma called out from her bedroom. "But MA!" I yelled back. "I..." "I don't want to hear it, BJ! You can watch whatever you want when she goes and takes her shower! Let her watch her show!" I flopped onto the couch and growled in disgust. Gabby stuck her tongue out at me, and it was all I could do not to slap it right out of her mouth. "God, you're such a baby!" I muttered under my breath. She either didn't hear me or decided to ignore me, but either way I was over watchin' stupid baby cartoons, so I stormed off to the bedroom and got my notes back out. I decided to skip the next day's English Comp class and spend the day in the library getting my research done, so I wouldn't have to try and do it with Gabby harassing me the whole time on Saturday. Didn't mean I wasn't gonna take her to the library, just that my work would already be done, so I could have a little fun torturing her instead. After an hour or so of my brooding and scheming, Gabby wandered in. I ignored her completely as she grabbed her nighty and stuck her tongue out at me again before heading to the bathroom, but as soon as she was gone, I put my books up and went to reclaim control of the TV. Stupid little brat made me miss my face time with Richard Page, and Don Johnson was another hour away, so I glumly sat through a barrage of David Lee Roth and Madonna and a bunch of other noise I didn't care about. Gabby reappeared shortly with her hair wrapped in a towel and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. "Don't even think it," I growled. "What?" she asked innocently. "You got your show. TV's mine now." "Aw, but You Can't Do That On Television is on!" she whined. "Tough luck. You made me miss Dial MTV." Another huge tongue in response. I just rolled my eyes and started flipping. "You ain't even watchin' nothin' right now!" she pouted. "Ain't you supposed to be in bed already?" I snapped. I knew it wasn't her bedtime, but needling her about it always got a rise out of her. "It ain't but seven thirty! I ain't gotta go to bed until nine!" Ma surfaced from the bedroom at this point, so I bit my tongue instead of commenting further. "Can't you girls go five minutes without fussin' at each other? I swear, I oughtta call the cable man and tell him to shut the damned thing off," she announced as she sat down in her lazy boy rocker. "And you know darned well your bedtime on school nights is eight o'clock, missy," she added. "Aw, Mama!" Gabby protested. "Don't 'Mama' me! I'm not the one who's failin' math! And you'd better believe it'll get even earlier if you end up in summer school over it!" "I got a 85 on my last test, Mama! You said..." "I said you could go back to nine o'clock when I see a progress report says you're passin' again. I ain't seen nothin' of the sort yet, only that you got a fightin' chance of makin' it happen between now and the end of the school year!" "It's not fair," Gabby said as she crossed her arms and pouted in the general direction of the TV. Ma and I exchanged knowing glances and shared a quiet chuckle as she brought out her knitting and I locked back in on the TV. Next morning, after Ma was off to work and Gabby was on the bus to school, I headed for the campus library and set to digging. It didn't take long to find what I was after; the studies were in some recent issues of Psychology Today. It was all right there; they demonstrated that people could be hypnotized during sleep using traditional hypnosis techniques, though without the need for visual points of focus, obviously. I made my own notes, but also photocopied the pages to keep with me. Now it was just a matter of learning how to do it. I started digging, scanning through book after book on hypnosis, looking for methods and techniques, but also paying attention to limitations. Wouldn't be much point in going through all this trouble if I couldn't get her to do what I wanted, after all. I filled up damn near an entire notebook before I looked up at the clock and realized it was near time to get home and get Gabby off the bus. Scanning over my work, I was quite satisfied that I had everything I needed not only to ace the report, but get into my little sister's head and scramble her little eggs around a bit. I drove home with a head full of possibilities, sorting out what I'd read and what people had done. The idea of getting Gabby to bark like a dog on command or even make her say a cuss word in front of Mama was pretty funny, but then I started thinking about the previous night, and how much I missed the quiet Gabby who just thought I was the greatest thing in the world. Maybe I could get that Gabby back with a few of these tricks, or at least take her down a peg or two, so she wouldn't be quite so sassy with me. A simple little idea started to take shape, and I chuckled to myself as the images flashed through my mind.
  4. Sam’s Return Part 1 Little Jamie Peacock was having the best party ever. His mummy and daddy had laid on the very best in snacks ‘n’ food ‘n’ sweets ‘n’ sodas and… well everything a party for six year-olds needs. He had all his 1st and 2nd grade chums from school, about twenty of them in total, playing the best games, having the best music and great entertainment, all hosted in the Peacock’s huge back garden. Jamie’s mummy, Samantha, and his daddy, George, loved their little boy and because he was doing so well at school, and becoming a ‘big boy’, they wanted to make this event, his sixth birthday celebration, one he’d always remember. A range of noisy kids seemed to be having a fantastic time. Lots of laughter and screaming, food and prizes (it had been arranged by the Peacocks that everyone would win a prize), so no one would be going home empty-handed. There was enough going on to keep any kid happy. * Samantha and George couldn’t keep up with all the comings and goings as new kids arrived and some were picked up by their parents. It wasn’t that late but some parents get worried if their child is still hyper and excitable after 5pm, they see it as an indication of a hectic and troubled night ahead for themselves. They want to see their little darlings all calm and settled well before bedtime. * Anyway, the kids were all dressed up and both boys and girls looked wonderful in their party outfits. Of course, being in their Summery best didn’t stop any of them charging about or sliding around on the lush lawns. The Peacock’s back garden was made for children to have fun and it was good to see their son had so many friends to enjoy it with. The magician had the kids spellbound as he produced a fantastic selection of animals from seemingly nowhere. Meanwhile, balloon man, the bouncy castle and array of fun games held others captive. Through the crowd Mr Peacock noticed one young person was sat alone who didn’t seem to be getting involved with all the merriment. At first he could just see the head and thought it was a very sweet, shy, good-looking boy because his blond hair was cut short and very boyish. But then, as the sea of kids parted slightly he noticed the pretty pink satin party dress she was wearing. The nervy looking child glanced sideways at him before averting her eyes in a bashful manner that George thought looked really quite endearing. She was certainly dressed for a party; her satin pink frock with the large pink bows, lacy sleeves and her sweet little pink ankle socks and matching pink patent leather shoes, showed that her parents cared for their daughter. However, her clothing wasn’t very current; in fact, her outfit looked more like a child (or baby) would wear in the 1960’s. Another point was that because of her very short hair, her sex was very confusing. She could have been a beautiful effeminate boy or a handsome little tomboy but whichever he or she was, they were definitely very pretty indeed. * She sat down on the lawn and her dress revealed a surprise to the on-looking adult. Under all the silky satin and intricate lacework she was wearing quite a bulky diaper and plastic pants. The plastic was, like her dress, incredibly shiny, the slightly opaque material showing a full white fabric diaper pinned tightly in place. As far as Mr Peacock had noticed, she was the only six year-old attending the party still needing such protection. However, Mr Peacock thought she looked adorable. There was something very charming about someone that age still in diapers, it made them still a child and not desperate to grow up. However, he wondered if her shyness was because of this juvenile piece of clothing and maybe felt a little too inhibited to join in with the rest of the kids. * He remembered his own, long journey through potty training. He’d been in diapers until her age and it had caused him a great deal of grief from his family and school friends. Thankfully, those genes hadn’t been passed on and his son Jamie had been toilet-trained before his second birthday. Their four year-old daughter Adele though was still struggling with her potty training and although could avoid daytime accidents, she was fully protected at night. * However, he felt sorry for this timid, sweet young girl who gave the impression of being scared to do anything more than sit on her own. The other kids appeared to be ignoring her or perhaps were just more involved in having fun, whatever the reason George thought he should go over and try to get her engaged in the party. “Uh hello,” George opened his friendly banter, “I’m Jamie’s dad… are you enjoying the party?” The young girl wriggled uncomfortably under this adult’s gaze. George was thrilled to hear the slight rustle of her plastic pants as she did so. “Are you in Jamie’s class?” Again she awkwardly wriggled; she didn’t seem to notice that in doing so it revealed more of her diaper. George smiled and shook his head knowing how being the only one in diapers felt. However, he thought he’d made some kind of connection with this awkward little girl on that level at least. * George noticed the small colourful party bag at her side, which at least meant, like all the other kids, she’d actually won a prize. The bag contained candy, a wrapped piece of Jamie’s birthday cake, a little toy, a puzzle, crayons and a book. The children would normally only collect them when they were leaving as they wouldn’t want to carry them around if they were playing. “Ah, I see you’ve got your goody-bag are you about to go?” A huge sigh left the little girl’s chest and her face scrunched up as if she was about to cry. “Mummy is going to be cross,” she sniffled in a way that only a child can do. George was immediately concerned. “Why is that sweetheart?” “Mummy said I had to be back before 5, and, and…” She tried to hold back the tears. “It’s nearly that now and I can’t find my friend.” “Ohh don’t cry. Did someone bring you and now they’ve gone off without you?” The huge tear drop that fell to the ground was all the answer George needed. “Well sweetheart why don’t I take you home and explain to mummy just what’s happened?” Her face seemed to have a grateful look as she picked herself up off the lawn, grabbed her bag and reached to hold George’s hand. “I’ll just tell my wife what we’re doing and then…” But the little girl had increased her grip and was leading Mr Peacock from the garden and out to his car in the drive. * He didn’t get chance to tell his wife, or anyone else for that matter, what he was doing as the girl climbed in and buckled herself in the rear seat. George took the driver’s position and turned on the ignition. “OK sweetheart where are we going?” “Thank you mister… I live near the Shires.” George knew the Shires were the latest big development near Snickerty Wood. There was uproar at the time of planning because some protesters thought the woods themselves would be cut down to make way for the houses. In the end their fears were unjustified. However, he briefly thought that was a long way for a young girl to have travelled but remembered she’d come with someone else. “What’s your address honey?” Mr Peacock asked as he put the car into gear. “Mummy and me have just moved there so, er, I don’t know the number… but… I know the way once we get there.” “Are you sure?” He looked in the rear-view mirror so he could see his passenger’s reaction. She could see him looking so nodded. * He looked at the digital display on the car’s clock, 16.45, he reckoned it would take him about twenty minutes to get there and hoped her mother wouldn’t be too angry with her little girl. They pulled away and headed towards Snickerty Wood. As he drove he engaged his young passenger in conversation. “What’s your name?” “Sam,” was the one word answer. “Oh, as in Samantha? Mrs Peacock’s name is Samantha…” He trailed off but glad he’d made another connection with this little girl. “Sam.” She insisted was her name. “Oh, er, OK, Sam.” Mr Peacock knew how precious some kids were about their name. Jamie hated being called James and when he was always corrected them - ‘JAMIE’ - he would insist, although his father wondered how long that would last before he demanded the more grown-up version. “Do you like your new school?” “Hu huh.” He could see her gazing out of the window now distracted by the buildings as they passed by. “What’s your favourite thing to do?” “Painting.” She responded excitedly. “I like painting flowers and my mummy has put my latest one up on the wall… she says it’s very good.” She looked happy about that and George, happy he’d now engaged Sam, continued asking about school. “Are you in the same class as Jamie?” She bobbed her head from side to side as if listening to some internal music and played with the lacy frills on the hem of her satin dress. “My painting is of my house, er, and my cat and, er, the woods and er…” The conversation continued but George was only able to elicit one or two word answers from this shy little girl. She seemed to run out of her enthusiasm for chatting though it didn’t matter as they were nearly at the Shires but unfortunately roadworks were delaying them slightly and it was already 5pm. * As they waited in the line of traffic Mr Peacock turned to look at his passenger belted into the rear seat. She was pulling at the hem of her dress, which revealed more of her protection. He could make out, now he was closer, her diaper was thick and fluffy, and could even see the two large pink pins that held it all together through the shiny plastic. He also noticed there was a small chain around the waistband and a silver lock at the front. It looked a little more substantial than something designed only for decoration. * He remembered as a kid, when he was having trouble wetting the bed, his parents had insisted that he wear protection and at night he’d often wriggle out of it. He thought he was a big boy at six years-old and hated having to wear a diaper. There solution for his parents was to put him lockable protection so only they could have access and he’d have to wait until they decided when he needed a change. He hated what his young mind thought as harsh judgment but he stayed in his plastic prison for over a year. * Sam didn’t appear to be aware she was showing off her underwear to an adult and sweetly asked what Mr Peacock’s favourite colour was. “Blue.” He quickly answered. “Mine’s pink.” She responded. “Well, I can see that,” he said indicating her satin dress. “Your dress is very nice and really suits you.” She giggled and wriggled in pleasure and embarrassment. “Mummy makes all my clothes… she made me this one special… she says I’m her ‘Little Princess’.” With that she dug into her goody bag and pulled out a bag of Tiny Tots candy. Mr Peacock noticed the name on the wrapping in the rear view mirror and wondered, although it was appropriate, when his wife had added more packets of candy to the goodie-bag. He shook his head at the thought of the complaints they’d get from some parents if their child developed diabetes from too much sugar. Meanwhile, Sam sorted out four small round blue heart-shaped pieces and offered them to Mr Peacock. “No thanks sweetie… I’m not hung…” He noticed that Sam’s face changed from a happy smile to a look of complete sadness. He realised that the offer was one of friendship and refusal was like refusing to be friends. “On second thoughts Sam, they look lovely… and they’re blue… my favourite colour… yeah!” “I’m having the pink and red ones.” She said gleefully and shovelled them into her mouth. Mr Peacock did the same with his just as the traffic began to move again. * Once through the roadworks they were into the Shires. “Where to now sweetie?” George was sucking on the mouthful of candy. “Down towards the wood.” George knew this part of the road well. He and his wife, like a lot of young couples, would come down to the car park at the edge of the woods to make out. Happy memories floated into his mind as he started down the single track road that led there. “Sweetie, are you sure this is the way, I think it’s just a car park down…” He knew in less than fifty yards the lane swung to the left and they’d be in the parking lot but Sam called out to take the next right. “But there isn’t a road to the…” He was wrong. There on the right was a little rutted track leading off into another bit of the wood. He’d seen this dense, overgrown area before but had never noticed the track before. “I live at the end of here.” Sam said enthusiastically. “I hope mummy won’t be too upset.” * To be continued…
  5. Andrew’s Story

    Andrew’s Story It was a shame for Andrew; so much promise, so much talent, so much money… just the wrong time to have a break down. ~~~~ Andrew Simmons, Andrew ‘The Frick’ Simmons, was all but burnt out after an extremely busy few years. He’d built up the business “The FrickFactory” from a simple, though addictive, game he’d created when he was seventeen, which had gone viral. The add-ons that he attached to this unpretentious computer programme ‘Frickland’ had launched a business that escalated, in less than seven years, to be worth $56million. We know this because that was for how much he’d just sold it. Andrew was almost at the point of collapsing from nervous exhaustion. It didn’t help that his small, frail, pale body, which had hardly seen sunlight over the past seven years, looked like it could have done with a good meal. He was burnt out and having such terrible trouble sleeping he was becoming addicted to drugs to help alleviate his many problems. Those seven years where, almost single-handedly, he’d developed and designed the ‘Frickland‘ franchise and the harder, more phantasmagorical ‘Conspiracy Gene’ game, had been intense and draining. He was up against a huge number of other exciting computer games on the market and it was a battle to keep up with all the leaps in tech, story lining, design and artwork. In fact, every day brought something new and revolutionary in to his business. Innovation was nonstop and although at first it was fun and challenging, for Andrew it had become mind-numbingly terrifying. He was descending into an abyss of his own creation, whilst his reliance on chemical highs to help him exist was taking its toll. Every one of his friends thought the shedding of his company would help, but it didn’t. His anxiety level was through the roof and, living alone, in the spacious mansion that only success can buy, was making him feel isolated, even when surrounded by people. He was getting desperate. He was sure his mind was going and there was a creeping sense of paranoia that drove every decision. With all that money in the bank, and the fact that he no longer had the responsibility of his company to worry about, you would have thought was enough to ease his predicament. If anything, his mood got darker and he became a very unpleasant, secretive, angry and deceitful young man. Somehow he managed to annoy business colleagues, frustrate family and alienate his best friends, which led to being more solitary. His parents had begged him to return to his mid-western home. They thought rest and recuperation away from the pressures of California was all he needed to get himself back to his creative best. He was adamant that he didn’t need any help, convinced if he did it would be used against him in some way. He screamed he needed nothing from anybody, there was nothing wrong with him but, at the back of his mind, he knew everyone was out to get him. A little rest, a little escape from all these annoying voices was all he really needed. He had to get away from all these leeches that would suck the life out of him. It was they who were the problem not him. The paranoia was no longer creeping… it was full blown. One morning his personal assistant Becky found her boss lying in a pool of vomit, shivering and crying for his mommy. She herself had known the problems of a personal breakdown but had recovered thanks to her psychotherapist Doctor Drummond. Once she’d cleaned Andrew up she begged him to try her doctor. She claimed that after only a couple of hours of therapy there was an instant improvement. Her boss was dismissive of her claims but she insisted that the doctor had hypnotised her, found the root of her problem and, by regressing her back to that moment, she had confronted the problem at its cause. She claimed that she’d been 100% calmer since those sessions and thanked the psychiatrist almost daily in her prayers for delivering her from a whirlpool of doubt and terror that up until that moment, she couldn’t explain. Andrew would have none of it, yelling and calling her a liar. Becky begged him to at least try him but the foul verbal abuse was just too much and she was glad that the following day was her last in his employment. When he’d sold the company, his employees went with the new owners, Becky wasn’t needed but thankfully she’d found a new position and couldn’t wait to leave now her boss was such an obnoxious prick. In many ways she was looking forward to telling him just what she thought but it would have to wait until the last pay-check was signed then she could walk out and never have to worry about the jerk again. That last morning was a disaster. She arrived to find him lying unconscious, surrounded by empty bottles and an assortment of Class A drugs and, on top of all that, he’d shit and pissed himself. Becky was at her wits end, finally she called for help. ~~~~ Head clear, mind refocused, Andrew was enjoying this new game, why he hadn’t thought of it before was a mystery. Instead of progressing Frickland he was going back to how it all started; The Frickland Nursery. The entire concept was there before him; it was bright, colourful and fun, a sort of cross between The Sims and Rugrats; entertaining cartoon characters you controlled. The simulation and sets were designed for the most enjoyment a child could possibly have. The game was clever, easy and at times fiendish. At each stage they could graduate up to the next age group if they achieved certain levels and collected special prizes. They had a time scale to accomplish otherwise they were returned to the beginning of the game. Andrew thought this was a cunning part of the experience because, no matter how advanced you were, at any moment, when timed out, you could be returned to a crying baby and the entire process would start from scratch. Andrew was relishing developing this game more than any other, well apart from that first one which had set his career in motion. Thankfully, now there was no pressure he was taking great delight in making each character age appropriate; diapers, rompers, onesies, pacifiers, stuffed toys, toys in general, powders, lotions, plastic pants, rubber sheets, cribs, nursery rhymes, mobiles… he couldn’t stop once he started. ‘The Nursery’ was going to be the best ever. The walls were all bright colours; cartoons festooned the surfaces, whilst the personality of each child was sweet and cute they were clothed in appealingly decorated diapers. Some of the kids would be timid, others adventurous but all were adorable wearing their little baby outfits. Some of the characters were new-borns, others crawling and some toddling around. They walked and talked like babies and each wore a very visible diaper; some wore more than one. The thickness was a penalty for not achieving certain ‘points’ or ‘prizes’ throughout the game. Occasionally a grown-up (Nanny), would come in and change, discipline, dress or insist on ‘nap time’ for various individuals as needed. To gain age levels they had to collect colourful items like golden pacifiers (there were seven colours to be won to get up to the golden prize), four layered lace pink panties (pink was the top plastic panties you could achieve though there were four other colours and different layered ruffles to attain first). Food, baby bottles, sippy-cups, bibs and playtime were all graded and awarded points and only once you’d achieved the top level in each of these could you advance. Andrew was getting more and more excited as each new component of his game dropped into place or he expanded on the idea. ‘The Nursery’ was heavily populated. Padded bottoms were everywhere as the cast crawled or toddled to various areas of play where some tried to gain the rewards that meant they would be able to ‘grow up’. Baby boys and baby girls cried, wet and soiled themselves if they failed and that set them back a stage which they had to repeat. The changing mat also meant that more diapers were added, which slowed the toddler down and made achieving the next level slightly more difficult. Andrew giggled to himself when he saw that one of the 30 month-old toddlers lost all his rewards and had to start at the beginning – so it was back to being a baby again. That was a penalty which seemed extreme but was fun to have. Crying was just as much a part of being a child as giggling, or moodiness, or sleeping, so at times the nursery was both chaotic and peaceful. Andrew thought it was the best game his imagination had ever created. He loved the colourful characters he’d produced. He loved the innocent but slightly edgy nursery world in which they lived. He loved the fact that it was a fun place to play. Every game was an adventure; every detail of a kindergarten was included, from the selection of soft and furry toys to the lettered building bricks. It was all so realistic, every move was accompanied by the rustling sound of plastic diapers and plastic pants… he could almost smell the baby powder… in fact; he could smell the baby powder! ~~~~ He looked down at himself. He was wearing a thick, thick diaper and a pink vest with a cartoon mouse on the front. Whilst the cartoon mouse stayed the same the rest of the Sim-like caricature world dissolved from colourful comic animated figures into real people. Each of his characters was no longer in a game but the real world. There was a cross-section of ages and when he tried to speak the only noise he could hear was childish gibberish. He tried again, but no words formed just sounds and noises those around him responded to but couldn’t understand. The toddlers had a few words in their vocabulary but Andrew; well he wasn’t sure what or where he was. He looked like a twenty-four year-old but his dress and speech were that of a one year-old. He thought this was all part of his own creation but now he wasn’t sure. He could only crawl and his diaper felt full, wet and uncomfortable. He tried to tell someone, anyone that he was having a nightmare, but no one could understand what he was trying to say. His body just wouldn’t do the things he wanted or expected it to do. There was no coordination, no strength, even crawling around was difficult. On top of all that, the frustration at not being understood led him to do what babies always do when in such a situation - he sat in his soiled diaper and cried. ~~~~ High up on the gantry, looking down on his medical achievement, stood the fifty year-old, white-haired and self-satisfied Doctor Drummond; he was pleased with the way business was progressing. The specialist area of psychiatry had led to his ground-breaking research being financed by the government. His responsibility was to find a psychological way of rehabilitating hardened criminals so that they were no longer a menace to society. Unfortunately, his deep and controversial exploration of the human mind had led to a few setbacks along the way, which the government, seeing lawsuits on the horizon, weren’t happy being associated with. His funding had almost dried up until he’d found a way of utilising those unforeseen but effective ‘setbacks’. Now, with his state-of-the-art desert retreat (psychiatric institute) he was able to offer a service he was surprised how many people wanted to exploit. Some patients were volunteers, some were sent, whilst many had no choice. Most of the ‘children’ who were crawling around below were heirs to various fortunes that either family, or Doctor Drummond himself, had managed to convince needed to start his specialist treatment. They all had problems of one kind or another and hoped for a cure that the saintly (and highly regarded) psychoanalyst might provide. Whether, kidnapped, coerced or corralled business was doing well. The clever and opportunistic shrink had certainly found a market for his specialised (some might say criminal) therapy. None of patients were aware what their ultimate ‘cure’ would be, though this particular outcome suited many business rivals or disgruntled siblings. The doctor would tamper with their minds; explode memories, kill off thought processes, defeat certain urges, impose control, manipulate will, rectify and regress each one of them back to those glorious, happy, untroubled, childhood days. That was the initial idea; however, what that actually meant was they were destined to a lifetime of diapers and toddlerhood… repeated ad nauseam. Visiting guests and high powered execs took great delight in seeing a rival reduced to diapers and building bricks and were happy to pay for the privilege to keep that person out of the way and incapable of a response. They reasoned that being ‘forever a toddler’ was better than ‘not being at all’, and congratulated themselves on being so considerate, finding a wonderful world for their ‘adversaries’ to live out their lives. They also loved the idea of the humiliation that a grown person having to wear baby clothes, smocks, diapers and plastic pants would feel, they hadn’t realised that humiliation can only happen if the person humiliated is aware of the fact. These babies had no concept of anything but their toddler existence and the childish sphere in which they blissfully lived. No matter what their real age, in ‘The Nursery’, no one would ever progress past being a toddler. The nurses (or nannies to the little ones), trained and cared for their babies in the colourful, childish world that the good doctor had created for them. The regression trigger he’d placed in all of his subject’s minds was there should any start showing signs of developing an intellect. Their entire lives were spent as little kids playing and trying to win prizes. He, and a couple of his technical boffins, had come up with an app called ‘The Nursery’ so there was a digital baby world as well as a real one in existence. He was able to combine the two for his tots, which gave them something to aim for, even if that aim was bogus, after all, it did form another part of the research. However, as soon as they reached the advanced level (about three years-old), cleverly they were re-set to start all over again with no memory of what they’d already accomplished. Smugly, as the doctor looked down on the latest patient in his care he smiled. After a couple of weeks intensive ‘therapy’ Little Baby Andy was now able to join all the other babies in the nursery. His brain had needed a complete retune but using the game and Andrew’s own programming abilities, had been fairly easily convinced it was all his creation. He’d planted the computer game idea, and the characters, so deep that Andrew would have difficulty in separating one from the other and believe he was responsible for everything that went on. That was until his mind refocused on the real rather than the cartoon element then, as the doctor planned, his mind would scramble and he’d slot right into complete babyhood with no problem. The cunning academic could see the newest ‘recruit’ to the nursery sitting in his thick diaper and cute little mousey t-shirt crying, coming to terms (or not) with his situation. It wouldn’t take long. Soon his brain would stop computing and start accepting, although he may never quite be able to mentally differentiate between the physical and digital worlds. However, Baby Andy would be a welcome addition to the doctor’s crazy collection of kindergarten kids. Besides, the cute, sad-eyed, under nourished looking baby with the huge diaper had nothing to worry about; Doctor Drummond was going to be taking special care of him. After all, the clinic was financially safe for quite a while now that he had access to $56 million. ****************** THE END
  6. Booted Baby (Private with Danny)

    Everlyn had previously been a straight A student, giving everything 110%. Yet as she got older, she slowly lost interest. By age 17, she was hanging around with the bullies of the school. It was thanks to this that on a Friday; she was given the news that it was to be her last. As she walked home from school for the last time. Everlyn couldn't help but wonder what her punishment might be. she came through the front door and plonked herself on the sofa as always
  7. A New Start 1-9 (final)

    A New Start Part 1 Love isn’t all you need… but it’s certainly a start. Cardinal Willem Luthar Flischer (1949 - ) Joshiwoo was more than a little agitated as he sat in his playpen pushing the toy plastic train around and around. The soft vinyl mattress he was playing on had got a few ‘hills’ and ‘dales’ for him to at least make his choo-choo sounds a little different as the train climbed up and down its enclosed plastic domain. His own plastic pants, with the multi-teddy bear motif that encased his thick disposable, crinkled as he crawled around and was a nice accompaniment to the tinkling sounds of the overhead mobile plinking a soft nursery rhyme. His super-soft pale orange t-shirt had an image of a smiling brown and orange monkey hanging from a branch and the words ‘Lil Monkey’ written in swirling letters underneath. He was warm, he was safe and thanks to his super-thick nappy, he felt extremely secure. Sitting in one corner was his new, sparkling white, soft and smiling plushie, Snowy the polar bear. Lying quietly behind him was pink Bunny Fluffytail and his plastic T-Rex, Tex. The size of his playpen was adequate enough to contain him and his myriad of toys and fluffy creatures, and, for the last few months it had been a big part of his world. That and being looked after by ‘mummy’. The thing was he’d been on his own for some time now and was missing her. # Four months ago she had discovered an almost broken young boy on the verge of suicide and contemplating the welcoming embrace of the rail line as he stood perilously close to the edge of the bridge. He’d lost everything: His job, his home, his money and his friends. He’d got addicted to something that had changed his personality so much that no one wanted anything more to do with him – fame. Fleeting though it was, it had filled him with an attitude and a carelessness that made him believe he was indestructible (he’d not allow any reasoning voice to alter its ego-boost). He’d been stupid enough to believe his own hype and let others take care of ‘all the other stuff’. His swift rise as an eighteen year-old reality star had taken its toll on his personality, the very thing that had made him so popular in the first place. His small stature, baby face, sweet nature and a choirboy innocence (that would have let him get away with murder) had endeared him to the public consciousness whilst the show was on. However, once the show finished and the offers came flowing in; the fame and the money, the parties and the celebrity all conspired to ruin him. The newspapers were quick to castigate such a ‘nasty little upstart’ and he quickly lost all the goodwill he’d had because of a series of devastating headlines. Whoever said that any publicity was good publicity was wrong when it came to the career of Gordon ‘Little’ Littlewood. Just two years after it had started, it was over. His small stature and schoolboy looks didn’t stop the papers from holding him up to public ridicule for his drunkenness, drug abuse but the final straw had been the rape charge. Twitter, newsgroups, social media and newspapers in general became like a pack of wolves around the subject of Gordon Littlewood. After all, the news media had decided, as he was over eighteen he was targetable. The public were getting fed up with rich, young, good-looking celebs; it was time to take them down a peg or seven. There was once a time when a gentler, more forgiving, atmosphere existed in the world but nowadays it had been replaced by anger, spite and lethal vindictiveness and, if you were in their sights and vulnerable, you were eaten alive. ‘Little’ became a BIG but unedifying story for the media and anyone with an axe to grind. It hadn’t helped that his sweet personality had so rapidly changed to become unbearable and self-possessed. The sad thing for Gordon was he had nothing to back up what people had seen in him in the first place. That easy charm he’d revealed in the show was perceived (thanks to those highly defamatory articles and gossip columns) as nothing more than fake. The fact that he was once a ‘nice lad’, corrupted by fame and turned into this spiteful, self-opinionated sleaze ball, was absolutely no defence. As the papers joyously pointed out, it was easy to blame everyone else for his self-inflicted failings. The rape charge was eventually thrown out of court for ‘lack of evidence’ but he was never completely exonerated, even though most people ultimately realised the accuser was sick and had made the entire scenario up. Unfortunately, by then it was all too late and, as everything was gone; the money, the fame, the ‘friends’ (who delightedly cashed in on his celebrity) and any self-respect he once might have had departed. So, at just nineteen (almost twenty) years old he stood on the bridge wondering what life would be like dead. # The playpen was quite large and comfy as he lay listening to the plinky-plonk sound of his mobile. He hugged Bunny Fluffytail and held tightly onto his fleecy blankie, whilst gazing up at the stars and flying horses that circled over his head. The large white dummy he gently slurped on was also a comfort as he waited for mummy to come and change his soaked nappy. Earlier in the day his mummy had gently pulled him from his crib where he was all warm and sleepy and checked on his wet night time protection. She only changed him after he’d suckled on his bottle of formula and eaten the large spoon’s full of mushy Honey Oaties he enjoyed so much. He liked it when mummy changed him. She spoke such sweet words, kissed and tickled his tummy, cleaned and powdered him in such a loving way that, even when he was wrapped in his clean thick new disposable, he wanted it to continue. Thankfully, once the process was complete and mummy was happy with the way her little baby boy was dressed, she’d hug and cuddle him tightly to her bosom and rock him as she hummed a little tune. He’d close his eyes and suck on his dum-dum whilst mummy patted his well cushioned bottom as she finished her devoted morning ritual. # Gordon no longer remembered his past, all he knew was the present and the affectionate attention mummy lavished on her ‘sweetums’. In fact Gordon no longer existed, he’d become Joshua or more exactly, Joshiwoo. Yes, that’s what mummy called him: “My sweet little Joshiwoo - the sweetest of sweetums in the entire world.” He’d learned to say ‘Mummy’ but very few real words passed his lips. Gurgles and chuckles, bubbles and smiles were all mummy needed from him. He’d stretched out his hands to cup his new white bear or call for his pink rabbit and make some baby words that had entered his head but even his conversation with his toys was mainly babble. He might call out for ‘Shnowy’ or ‘Bun-bun’, he knew their names but was still learning to say them properly, but most of his vocabulary was just one word and pointing. Sometimes he’d sob a little even though he didn’t know why, but mummy came and tenderly stroked his hair or gently hugged him until whatever had caused the tears had been banished. Sometimes the snuffles were just because he was hungry, other times that he was saturated but mainly it was because he loved to have his mummy play with him. His teddy and other stuffed animals were fun and always felt nice to hug but it was mummy he liked to hug the most. She’d play with him and make noises that the animals or toys made and he’d learn from repeating mummy’s words or sounds. # Angela Epstein (nee Applegate) had been married to Doctor Joshua Epstein for two years when tragedy struck. She was just finishing her own nursing qualification when a huge accident on the fog bound M1 motorway had taken the life of her husband, which left her almost completely destroyed. The only thing that kept her going was the recent news that she was expecting her first child so devoted the next few months into making sure the birth of their baby would be a wonderful, uncomplicated experience. Unfortunately, the birth had been a messy and painful experience and her son had died just minutes after he had been welcomed into the world. A series of neural and physical difficulties meant that the sweet little baby boy never drew breath and his heart-broken mother only got to hold him for a few seconds before he was rushed away. Angela fell into a deep depression and for a couple of years hardly went anywhere, spoke to anyone or allowed friends to comfort her. She was utterly devastated. Every waking hour she just thought of what her baby would be doing at that moment had he survived. She’d named him Joshua after his father but even naming him didn’t make much difference to the deep morose feelings that seemed to engulf her. # That was until one day, whilst walking through the city’s shopping mall she noticed a sign on a window display saying that there were staff vacancies. Despite everything that had happened, this opportune moment came when she looked into the display of clothes and baby items in Everything4Baby and for the first time felt happy rather than resentful. All the colourful cute outfits and items for baby for some reason now filled her full of pleasure and on a whim she applied for a job. At the interview she never mentioned the loss of her baby but did mention the loss of her husband. Her nursing background was seen as an advantage and within a week she found herself working in an environment that once would have filled her with sadness but now filled her with joy. Everything4Baby had given her a job and a purpose. She loved the new mummies coming in and excitedly buying cute new stuff for their upcoming child. She loved suggesting items and helping pick out little onesies, nappies, bottles and toys for these young mothers. She was often surrounded by a sea of babies with their parents all searching for that specific item to make their little one ‘individual’. Because of constant requests for that ‘unique’ or ‘designer’ item, she’d found new suppliers, designers and clothes makers who, at a price, would create something ‘different and special’ – perhaps surprisingly, there was a great deal of social one-upmanship and elitism in the world of baby clothes. She was good at her job and soon found that she rose up the staff ranking and within two years was managing the branch. A year later and she bought out the owner and set about a series of adjustments that would develop the business far beyond what had originally been planned. Because of the way she ran the enterprise, the place catered for mummies, babies and those interested in baby stuff, even if they weren’t quite real babies themselves. Everything4Baby could have been renamed ‘Everything4allbabies’ because of the diverse selection of customers who came into the shop. That was ten years ago and she’d never been happier. # However, one late night driving home she noticed a dishevelled and sad young boy looking like he was contemplating his life as she saw him climbing up onto the rail bridge’s safety barrier. A shiver of concern ran through her body but the fact that there were few people around made her slam on the brakes and decide to try to do something. The boy only looked to be in his early teens, possibly thirteen or fourteen, and immediately thought how old her own son would have been had he lived. Her heart went out to this obviously distressed young man. She had no idea what to say or do once she got there nor how he’d react, it was a matter of trying to do something rather than nothing. Angela knew it may already be too late and the boy may have plummeted onto the busy rail line below but she also knew she had to try and help him. “What if,” she imagined, “this had been her own son in such turmoil?” She’d hope that some passing Samaritan would try and help. # Part 2 They sparkle and twinkleth like diamonds caught in starlight Edmund White-Thomlinson (1801-1843) Joshiwoo was sucking on his bottle. The warm liquid filling his tum-tum and making him wriggle contentedly in mummy’s lap. He had no concept of time or of his past life, right now was the only thing he knew and to his mummy at least, he appeared happy enough. She kept him warm, safe, clean and loved. Yes LOVED. She had poured everything she knew, every resource possible, called in every favour and provided all she could into giving her new baby all the things she would have given to her own had fate not claimed him. She was now in possession of a boy who had been damaged by the consequences of his life and was in need of a new beginning, she was going to make sure he received it. # Angela had managed to get to the highly distraught boy just seconds before he jumped. He was surprised to see this woman approach and a brief thought that it was someone, like the rest of his money grabbing family and members of the public, who wanted to taunt him. But, and this had been the surprise, in a calm and soothing voice she had simply said: “Please don’t jump.” After the beating he’d taken from his family, friends, press and his most recent experience, these were the first tender and concerned words he’d heard in a long time. He was shaking as he stood on the railings; he really didn’t want to jump but could see no alternative to the mess he’d made of his young life. The hate he seemed to have generated, the nasty and vindictive personality he’d adopted, the laughing stock he’d become – none of this really suited him and it was time to end it all. But, he wavered as the kindly lady reached out and simply said: “Let’s make your life better.” The steady gloved hand hung in the night air as she managed to coax the young boy down. Angela was completely unaware who he was, he simply looked like a damaged young teen in desperate need of help. # Baby Joshua sucked on his dum-dum as his mummy patted his nicely padded bottom. She’d been amazed at how much liquid he was able to produce but now, several weeks in, she liked the look of her well-cushioned ‘son’ and the number of stuffers in his nappy certainly made him bulky but, as she smiled to herself, incredibly cute. His plastic pants were tight under the dinosaur onesie he wore to keep everything snug but it also helped the soft rustling sound as he shuffled about. Angela just loved to observe Joshiwoo as he played, napped and lived his new unencumbered life. “This is how it should have been.” She thought as Gordon became Joshua and she was able to be a proper mother to her ‘little’ one. Both had a new take on life; a new deal, a new reason to be alive… a brand new start. # When Angela had got the disturbed boy home he was shaking, tired and completely exhausted. She thought, whatever he’d been through, it must have been something quite traumatic. He was dirty, wretched and looked like a he could use a meal but, as he sat in her lounge; all he really wanted was to sleep. Without much thought other than helping the poor boy she suggested he take a bath and then, if he wanted, have a nice long sleep. Gordon was thankful for the suggestion and grateful for the offer of somewhere to stay for the night and, above all else, that he didn’t have to explain anything there and then. A warm bath and a bed were just what he needed. Whilst he relaxed for the first time in many months he let the warm embrace of the bath soothe his troubled mind. Meanwhile, Angela was busy making up the bed in the other room, the room that would have been Joshua’s. It was, despite the passage of time, still full of many of the nursery items she had bought all those years ago. Lying unmade against the far wall was the crib in which he would have spent those first few months of his life and a tremor ran through her body. Tears sprung to her eyes and she wept for her loss… it wasn’t the first time and she doubted it would be the last. # She went back to the bathroom to check on her guest and saw that he had fallen asleep. She smiled and returned to the room to make space for the inflatable mattress she manoeuvred into the place and added sheets and a blanket. When she’d finished she looked around the room, it still had very much the nursery and baby look; cartoon characters, baby animals in diapers, mobiles and loads of fluffy animals, toys, blankets and the soft, subdued lighting she though a baby might need. Using a selection of baby blankets she quickly made up the bed. It may not be what a teenager might want to sleep on but with all the soft fleecy material it certainly looked comfy. A thought flashed into her head – should she make him wear a nappy? It might have been because she was already in a hyped up state, being back in her child’s nursery but that weird thought seemed to come out of nowhere. It was true that whenever she ventured into the nursery all the ‘what might have been’ came flooding back. Even though the room never got to experience a child sleeping and playing in it there was an atmosphere of baby powder and infant about the place. Nappies danced for a few brief seconds in her head and, in her mind’s eye, she saw herself putting baby Joshua into a pair. She smiled at the thought but quickly realised her guest was hardly likely to wet the bed and didn’t think it a problem if he did, the inflatable was made of plastic so very little could be ruined. It had been a strange and unusual few moments, besides, she doubted if any of the baby stuff she had would fit a boy the size of the one snoozing in her bath. She laughed at her own silly thoughts and went to retrieve the slumbering lad. # A heap of filthy clothes piled on the chair needed sorting, there wasn’t much but far too dirty for him to sleep in. She decided to wash and dry them but was surprised to see a set of keys, a phone and a bunch of coins sat on top of the pile. The phone wasn’t turned on so might have been broken and if what she saw was the sum total of the boy’s money, he really was in a bad way. Anyway, none of it mattered at that moment so went off to find some pyjamas or shorts or ‘something’ he could wear. After several minutes searching she’d found very little that might be appropriate but a pair of her own flowery thick cotton winter PJs and some white cotton knickers she hadn’t worn in years. She decided that they would do temporarily and, after putting his dirty clothes into the washer, went and woke her sleepy soaking guest. # He took some rousing from the bath but eventually she was able to help him up and, after offering him a fresh towel, left him to dry off. He didn’t appear that bothered that a complete stranger was taking care of him and, seemed more than grateful, for the underwear and even the floral jammy bottoms. Her kindness and sympathy was just what he needed so was content to be warm and clean with someone fussing around him, it had been a while. The lighting in the bedroom was low and as she guided him towards the temporary inflatable. She apologised for not having a proper bed but assured him that others who had slept on it in the past had found it quite comfortable. He was really too tired to worry and just glad of a place to lie down, he would have happily stayed in the bath had she left him. She reminded him where the toilet was in case he needed it during the night and jokingly added that if he wet the bed then it would be nappies in future. A quizzical expression passed over his features (he hadn’t noticed the nursery print wall paper and the room’s other juvenile trappings), she giggled embarrassingly letting him know she was only making fun. He was well-tuckered out and, as the room was pleasantly warm lay out on the blankets, curled up into the foetal position, and almost immediately started drifting off to sleep. A quiet “Thank you” escaped his lips as he snuggled against the fleecy blankets. He slipped the soft material with the childish motifs over his body as a huge relaxed sigh and wiggle to get comfortable brought the evening as far as he was concerned to a close. Unconsciously she reached out and stroked his hair. “You’re welcome sweetheart.” Kneeling next to his bed she watched for a few moments as he settled down and soon his shallow breathing signalled he was asleep. Her heart once again went out to this poor little guy as she wondered what had driven him to contemplate suicide. However, at the same time she pondered this, she was also thinking of her lost baby and as she looked down on her sleeping visitor, all she really saw was her own son. Her heart welled up and she sobbed wishing that this poor boy was indeed her little boy and she could look after him and make sure he’d come to no further harm. As she looked on he lay there tightly cuddling the fleecy blanket in his left hand whilst his right made its way to his lips. She watched with a smile on her face as he soothed whatever worries he had with the aid of his spit soaked thumb. “Goodnight Joshua.” She whispered and kissed his head. # Part 3 “As you grow the small child within is not holding you back but offering a place to heal” Mohammed Devwhalli (1901 -2000) Baby Joshua was wet, very wet as he woke from his nap. He clutched ‘Sh-nowy’ tightly and its soft white fleecy coat tickled his face as he slowly returned to wakefulness. Almost immediately his mummy was by his side and letting down the bars of the crib, checking her boy’s night time protection and beamed with pleasure as she helped him get to his feet. He tried to return his happiness at seeing mummy again by smiling round his dummy but all that achieved was more drool dripping onto his brightly coloured onesie, his chest was almost as wet as his nappy. This was baby Joshua’s favourite part of the day when mummy cleaned him up, tickled and played fun games, bathed and dressed him. He’d giggle almost continually until she’d help him downstairs for something to eat. Sometime, if he’d had a restless night and was still half asleep, mummy would hold him in her arms whilst he drank his formula from a bottle. Once he’d sucked it all down she’d burp him and then put him down so he could sleep until he was ready to face the day. There was little point in changing him until then as he always wet when he slept and all that formula had to go somewhere. Mummy made sure the thick soak pads added to his nappy would keep him from completely flooding his cot. # Angela knew that she should be trying to get in touch with the boy’s parents so that they were aware he was OK. However, because he’d been in such a state she thought it better to wait, have a chat with her guest and then decide on who needed to be informed. Once this decision had been made she settled down on her sofa to catch up on some paperwork. It was very late. The events of the evening had eaten into the time but there were still things for work she had to do before the morning. As she examined the various bills, quotes, designs, worksheets etc. progress was very slow because her mind kept returning to the poor lad upstairs. She’d rescued the boy but now felt some kind of responsibility to him and his family. Her concentration level was poor until she happened on a bill from one of her ‘specialist’ firms. This small firm produced bespoke, original items in any size and had quickly become one of the main suppliers to her ‘alternative’ baby customers. When she’d first embarked on this side of furnishing the needs for this group of customers, she had to source the companies herself, check if they were up for making the items requested and then agreeing a supply chain, delivery dates and, most importantly, happy customers. All these points were achieved with relative ease and it could be said she was one of the few such providers in the county. Everything4Baby had quickly become the place to shop for such a market and, the once-a-month late night private shopping, had proved both popular and a location where like-minded people could meet and discuss their predilection - babies during the day, ABDL at night. Now as she examined the bill and the items ordered her mind focused on what it would be like to have something similar herself. It was for an adult crib with lockable sides and a deep soft plastic mattress with a baby duckling design. The person who requested it also wanted an entire set of bedding and baby clothes to match. It was a huge, expensive order but she had been able to coordinate all the different suppliers to work together and produce a superb finished product where all the component parts worked in harmony. She was justly proud of what the happy customer received and he, rightly, was nothing but praise as word spread throughout the community. * She slept fitfully that night. Her mind full of adult babies and the charming little get ups they wore. She’d often passed comment on how wonderful they all looked in their baby clothes: The made-to-measure nappies, shiny vinyl pants, dresses, onesies, pjs, colourful vests, bibs, cartoon all-in-ones, indeed, even the suppliers were delighted with this new, demanding and growing outlet for their pricey but high-end creations. However, when her dream started incorporating her visitor she struggled against the idea – it was stupid, insane, and probably even against the law and, more to the point, RECKLESS. However, dreams being dreams, the thought lingered and she became captive in a life, a dream life, which had him at its centre but as a baby. When she woke up she was most uncomfortable with what was in her head. There again… * She quietly opened his bedroom door and was surprised to see that he’d hardly moved in the night. He was still lying on top of the blankets although one was now gripped tightly against his body but she detected the tell-tale smell of urine. Despite her thinking it wouldn’t happen she soon realised that her guest hadn’t made it to the bathroom and could see the outline of the ‘tidemark’ around his floral cotton PJs. He was still fast asleep. She cautiously shook him awake. It took a while but eventually managed to get him to near consciousness as he looked around unsure of his bearings. “Sorry to wake you, er, erm, er,sweetie ,” she was a bit hesitant because she still didn’t know his name. “I have to go to work but, if you want to stay in bed, I’ll be home around lunchtime…” He yawned and stretched but was still unbelievably tired. “Er, OK.” He simply acknowledged her offer to stay in her home for a little longer; after all, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. “Yer, er, I could do with some more sleep… thank you.” He mumbled but smiled his thanks and waited for her to leave. As she hesitated at the door he suddenly realised that she might actually have some doubts about leaving him alone. “Oh, your stuff will be alright, I’m not a thief and I’m grateful to you for…” “No, no, it’s not that,” Now it was Angela’s turn to feel she needed to explain. “It’s just…” He suddenly became aware of the pool of smelly dampness he was lying in. “Oh for Christsake, what the fuc…” “No, no don’t worry… I… er, we can…” She saw him fling back the blanket he was clutching and look down at his soaked jammy bottoms and the urine soaked sheet he’d been lying on. The plastic inflatable mattress making sure no further harm was done but that also meant however much his bladder released had now soaked into everything else. He looked up at her and his irate expression changed to one of distress and regret. In that brief moment he’d changed from an angry young man into a sad little boy. His face screwed up in abject failure and was almost on the verge of letting his tearful emotions take control. It wasn’t a clever contrived reaction to his damp situation, it was real. For a few seconds there were no further exchanges, they were both a little overawed by what had happened. Eventually, he looked around the room and gave her an apologetic smile. “I suppose if I’m going to piss myself, at least I’m in the right place to do so… you’d better get the nappies ready.” * Although the last line was said as a joke his mind immediately slipped back to ‘There and Then - Here and Now’ the reality TV show he’d appeared on. It was roughly an updated, 24/7 version of the popular ‘Big Brother’ franchise with live and recorded segments broadcast (though which segment was recorded and which part live was never relayed to the contestants) of course there was also tasks to be completed daily. Each player gained points every twenty four hours depending on how well they ‘performed’; this was done by phone votes and logged on-line responses. Once the contestant was voted out of the house, their accrued points were available and up for grabs, which the public could then, via a live phone in, allocate to other members of the cast. This intense involvement from viewers had seen the show top the ratings and become the ‘must watch’ programme on TV. The newspapers ran an almost blow by blow account of the outrageous behaviour of the contestants, who became instant celebrities, whilst the public in general just couldn’t get enough of it… especially as they could submit tasks to be performed. This interaction was one of the segments of the re-vamped show the public liked best because they could actually appear on it via social media and suggest what was to happen. Although these bits looked ‘live’ they were in fact recorded so as to give the production crew time to get any props organised. # One such suggestion was to split the house into two - one side to be mummies and daddies, whilst the other had to be babies. Of course, as it turned out Gordon ended up being a baby and was suitably dressed. His small frame gave him an advantage and his bulky nappy, shiny plastic pants and frilly bonnet seemed just perfect for him as the challenge got underway. He took to the part like a duck to water and immersed himself in the antics of a baby. He was convincing and, with his little tubby tummy on show and the huge protection that the cameras just loved to constantly feature, he was the one the audience adored. The public loved this feature and called in with ideas for what they should wear, what they should be fed and the babyish games they should play. And, whereas the other ‘babies’ baulked at some of the suggestions; Gordon played the part to the fullest. On more than one occasion what they were dressed in bordered on the fetish rather than adolescent, whilst the outrageous bulky nappies, satin dresses or juvenile onesies were just too much for some. Those who were acting babies were not allowed to speak but could only make their wishes known by crying, pointing and gurgling. The six other babies were hopeless but Gordon proved to be a winner and made front page news in his cute baby outfit with this particular task when he wet and messed himself live on air. What the public were not aware of was that his ‘accident’ was just that. He hadn’t meant for it to happen but, a long nap, together with some rather dubious baby food and drink had led to a spectacular reaction. The stunned and confused expression on his face (and the tears that followed) was something that no one could ignore. The public were appalled and delighted, the ratings soared and Gordon won infamy as well as the public vote. It was he who walked away with the £250,000 prize at the end of the show. # Despite all this public affirmation and notoriety the programme had passed Angela by. She had of course heard of it but hated reality shows and rarely watched TV. She was also not in the least bit bothered about gossip (celebrity or otherwise) or indeed any sort of ‘popular culture’ so the fortunes of the shows ‘stars’ had come and gone without so much as a comment from her. She still had no idea who this soaked boy in her spare room was but who, at that moment, looked even more pathetic than he had when standing on the bridge preparing to commit suicide. His slim pale body, shaggy hair and big brown eyes doing nothing to confirm he was an adult. He really did look like a small child confused by the way his bladder had let him down. He had no excuse for why he wet the bed and possibly ruined a kindly woman’s patience… for a brief moment he wished he’d taken up her jokey reference to wearing a nappy. This was not the first time he’d wet himself, and not just on the TV show, that was one of the many things his ‘loving’ family were able to torment him about. He was constantly bullied by his family and being the youngest and smallest, he was an easy target. His occasional bouts of incontinence also added to the vast amount of abuse the boy suffered all his life… he was the butt of everyone’s jokes. He had no idea the reaction his stupid bodily malfunction would garner from this guardian angel. For Angela’s part, she knew he needed time to heal from whatever had driven him to contemplate that final act of self destruction. His pissing the bed only added to the boy’s vulnerability and further evidence he needed to be cared for. # Part 4 I fear a future that has no future Izzy Downing (1980 - ) from the poem ‘Magole’s Lament’ “Look, don’t worry about anything.” She looked around the nursery and thought he was right, it was the correct place to do it if you were going to pee your pants. “I have to go to work but, your clothes are in the washer and should be dry in a short while. If you can put all this stuff on at some point,” she said indicating the wet bedding, “I’d be very grateful.” Gordon nodded. “Thanks. Look,” she said as an afterthought, “if you want to go, please just drop the latch as you leave, but, should you want to take some time to think or… talk, I’ll be back at lunchtime and we can chat then. After all, I don’t even know your name.” Gordon couldn’t believe he hadn’t been recognised although in truth, he did look different now than he had when he was in the show. He was both suspicious and relieved that his identity was unknown and wondered how he could spin this anonymity to his advantage. “OK, and, if that’s alright with you… I’d like to stay a little longer to try and get my head in order… and a chat at lunchtime sounds fine.” He smiled and then as if to bring the conversation to an end looked down at the mess he’d made and grimaced. “I’ll have this all cleaned up by the time you return.” # It was a busy half-day in the shop for Angela. It seemed that everyone in town who was pregnant had decided to pay a visit and she was rushed off her feet. She didn’t mind that amount of business, she didn’t mind the questions, nor did she mind the continuous nervous and excited requests for advice and information. As manager/owner of Everything4Baby she was used to being asked everything from infant fashion guidance to relationship problems. It was that type of store and the reason why it had become so successful. Nevertheless, by 1pm she was completely shattered and ready to get home having in the past few hours temporarily forgotten about her guest. However, before she left she grabbed a couple of items from the storeroom and put in a call to one of her ‘specialist’ contacts. # Once home she was pleased to find him dressed and watching TV with a mug of coffee by his side. To Angela he looked even more like a young teenager; his now clean, if ripped, jeans and Call of Duty t-shirt, mop of ill-kempt hair, bare feet and nervous nod of acknowledgement only making him appear like a schoolboy truant. “Hello,” she smiled and carried things through to the kitchen. “Glad you decided to stay for a while.” She called over her shoulder. Gordon was engrossed in the programme but looked up and smiled as she zipped through the living room and up the stairs. “Yer, yer, er, I think I need time to, er, think… if that’s OK with you?” He called back to her. She disappeared into her bedroom but carried on the conversation… only a little louder. “No problem. Have you eaten?” Her voice carried from the bedroom as she slipped off her coat and sorted out some of the items she’d brought home. “I had some toast earlier, I’m not really hungry… er, can I get you a coffee, tea or something? You look like you’ve had a busy day?” Almost immediately she was back down stairs and into the living room. “Please, tea would be nice and yes… it has been very hectic.” Gordon busied himself in the kitchen boiling up the kettle, putting tea in the teapot, putting milk in a jug, although his brief search didn’t turn up any sugar. He saw there was one bone china cup and saucer and correctly assumed that was how she preferred her tea served. She was a stylish lady so no doubt drank her tea with a degree of finesse and that classy crockery, he thought, suited her just right. Meanwhile, Angela settled herself on the sofa and was looking forward to having a nice chat. # Joshiwoo lay on the carpet in front of the TV watching cartoons and burbling away to ‘Sh-nowy’. He was wearing only his little t-shirt and thick protection, his yellow plastic pants crinkling noisily as he swayed from side to side in time to the music. He was ‘singing’ along to the melody whilst watching the colourful characters light up the screen. His mummy really loved it when she could see her boy enjoying himself in such a way, it made it all worthwhile. Whatever doubts she may have once had, they were swept away by the sheer pleasure he gave her and the unconditional love she could shower on him. # Once he’d served tea Gordon came and sat down next to Angela. She turned off the TV and smiled. “Hi, I’m Angela.” She offered her hand and he took it. “Pleased to meet you Angela, er, I’m Terry.” Gordon lied. “Pleased to meet you too Terry.” She noticed that his t-shirt didn’t quite reach to top of his jeans. The waistband of his clean but ancient underwear was just visible and his little pale tummy appeared more apparent because of this revealing gap. Perhaps it was just her but this made him seem even more defenceless. Again, Angela desperately wanted to wrap him in her arms and let him know all was well, to take away any pain or hurt he had suffered and return him to a life of childish bliss. # As they chatted the story that ‘Terry’ wanted to tell slowly emerged. If she really didn’t know who he was (and she hadn’t given any indication she did) he thought he’d spin a story of near truths. She asked him if he shouldn’t let his family know he was OK, they might be worried but he countered with the fact that it was his abusive family he was escaping from. He lay on the abuse, sexual as well as mental, which wasn’t too far away from the truth (although the sexual abuse came later and not from his family). However, the fact was that his family were a bunch of nasty, self-serving, money-grabbing, thoughtless, vindictive degenerates who had loved Gordon’s fame and the money that success brought so who went all out to exploit him, and it, to the fullest. The fact that it all but destroyed him didn’t even register on their collective consciousness, they just saw the money. # From where Angela was listening little Terry was struggling with his tale. She could see the emotion just pour out and watched as he wriggled uncomfortably with some of his descriptions. Of course she believed everything he said, and most of it was true except he left out certain pieces of the jigsaw. No mention of the TV programme, the public humiliation or his later encounters with people even worse than his family passed his lips, he kept it all at a family level. Since he was a toddler the constant put downs, malicious words, spiteful actions and the relentless air of malevolence had been his unceasing companion. No childhood bliss for this boy. No ‘sweetness and light’ mother to comfort and cherish him. Apart from the fact he was the youngest so obviously an easy target, the reason they constantly put him down was because he was different. He did have a spark of kindness, affability, empathy and understanding but this showed his family up for what they were. Whenever this side of Gordon raised its head, the rest saw it as their duty to mock and mistreat him until he they would no longer be confronted by something that was actually considerate. No. No. No. Parents and siblings alike goaded their innocent little brother into becoming a monster. Because he’d been successful on TV and was a celeb they encouraged him to get an attitude, to demand rather than ask and to be as awful as they were, unfortunately for him, he took their advice. That was when his descent into oblivion started. It was them he was terrified of and, although he didn’t go into too much detail, what he left unsaid, Angela was able to fill in those horrifyingly painful blanks herself. He alluded to other things since he’d escaped from home and how he’d really screwed up elsewhere in his life. Again, specifics were left to her own imagination. Angela couldn’t understand how such a young boy could have so many troubles but as the story unfolded the reasons became apparent. The essentials were missing but it left his host in no doubt that her guest was the victim of some shocking and disturbing events. At one point his tears flowed and Angela comforted the poor boy hugging him through the worst of this emotional black spot. The tears had been real when Gordon realised just how completely abandoned and destitute he really was. He was so alone and broken that when the opportunity arose, clung to anyone who seemed to understand his situation. # Alas, the last people he had confided in had been only too pleased to find such an amiable ‘toy’ they could use and abuse. His celebrity had been a bonus as they kept him prisoner and sexually used and abused him for a few days. By the time they had finished, the boy that was already broken was just an empty shell who understood once and for all he was worthless. Their actions, together with all that had gone before, destroyed his spirit. The feeling of utter uselessness had driven him to that final decision; the only way to stop his suffering was to end it all. Angela was in tears herself by the time he’d finished explaining what had happened. She was both angry and sad at what the youngster had been through and railed against how terrible people were to take advantage of someone else’s suffering; especially such a defenceless young boy. So, his reasons for suicide were powerful and why he was in no rush to let anyone know where he was equally poignant. He was so very grateful to have someone, after so much pain, to actually care. Because of her kindness and concern in his darkest hour, he literally owed her his life. He wanted to disappear but, and this was down to Angela, he no longer wanted to kill himself. # As the story of his hateful family revealed more and more dysfunction, she began to feel very protective of this sad looking teenager. She still assumed he must be about the same age Joshua would have been had he lived, fourteen, but never got around to asking him his real age. She did ask if he’d thought about going to Social Services for help but he shrugged and said his mother always said that’s where they’d send him if he ever revealed anything about the family. In their house Social Services was regarded as the enemy and a place to be avoided; full of stress, horror and anxiety, staffed by hateful perverts and certainly more unpleasant than what he was already used to. The bullying family had certainly planted the notion he’d get no help from them. He had a deeper fear of Social Services than of his own appalling family. He said he was scared of what might happen if anyone knew he was still around and begged Angela not to tell anyone. That fear of being discovered and sent back to a life so abusive he shook with dread as he pleaded with her to keep his secret. He urgently wanted to become invisible so that to all intents and purposes he no longer existed. He wanted time to think and hopefully find some solution and perhaps start again… though exactly how he was to accomplish this he had no idea. However, he smiled when he looked deep into Angela’s eyes, as far as he was concerned she had lived up to her name because like an angel she’d rescued him. It was an emotional moment that wasn’t in the least insincere; it was an honest reaction to what had happened over the last twenty-four hours or so. She felt it as well. # There was a bond between them and it was getting mixed up in her mind. One second she could deal with this teenager with ease, knowing what was needed and what to do. The next moment, she only saw her son Joshua and desperately wanted to mother him and keep him safe. He had asked what she did for a living, so happily explained about her ‘little baby clothes shop’. The mention of ABDL stuff was left out of the conversation but she did allude to her ‘growing’ group of customers and how much she enjoyed the ‘fascinating’ world of babies. She didn’t want to go into any great explanation about living on her own but the observant little chap had noticed her wedding ring so simply confirmed that her husband had died. She didn’t enlighten him any further and wisely he realised it might be a prohibited area for discussion. However, that maternal feeling had been getting stronger the more time they spent chatting and foolishly she was getting comfortable with a ridiculous notion forming in her brain. An idea that was simply not practical or how things worked in the real world. Strangely, it was a feeling she’d had from the moment she’d coaxed him down from that bridge. When she thought about it, she’d already done things that were primarily, if unconsciously, aimed at ‘Terry’ being part of her family in some way or other. Although she couldn’t really keep him from a cruel world, every fibre of her body told her he needed protection and she felt almost compelled to be the one to do just that. # They talked for ages. Time didn’t seem to matter and ‘Terry’ was able to keep up his temporary façade simply because Angela saw no need to doubt or challenge him on anything he said. Over a hastily prepared meal he explained what he really wished for was a brand new start. He wished for a place where his family didn’t exist, where no one knew him and somewhere he felt safe. He looked at Angela with his huge innocent eyes and her heart melted. Despite the fact that she knew she shouldn’t be holding such thoughts, Angela wondered how easy it would be to grant that wish. To keep this scared boy in her protection. To keep him away from railway lines and that feeling of futility she’d observed when he hung nervously onto that bridge. This was not the act of an attention seeker; this was the last despairing act by someone who had come to the end of their reasoning. It was the final act of escape. Perhaps she could provide a better finale. # Eventually, the chat got less and less as tiredness crept in to their conversation. It was time for bed. Angela realised that she hadn’t checked in the nursery or made ‘Terry’ a bed for the night and was surprised that he’d already made up the inflatable mattress. “I wasn’t sure if… after last night’s, er, accident, that you’d let me stay another night” He looked shamefully at the ground. “I’m really sorry about that but, well, er, I couldn’t help it, I, er…” “Not to worry.” He was grateful she had interrupted his apology. It was difficult for him to admit that it wasn’t the first time to happen and also knew he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. He just hoped that he would be able to get to the toilet in time. She checked the bed was made up to her satisfaction. He’d piled all the clean and dry fleecy blankets he could find on top because they’d made him feel incredibly comfortable and strangely safe. “OK Terry,” he appeared at least to have the bedding sorted, although no doubt his brain would take a little longer to be equally as well organised. Now she could see he was organised in some way that made her feel sad. She wanted to think of him as a helpless toddler reliant on her for everything. She also wished she’d been able to use some of the items she’d brought home from work; the pack of disposables and the large plastic pants. In her mind she already saw his well-padded bottom snuggling down under the fleecy pale blue blanket but alas reality returned. Angela had no idea how she expected to get him to wear such items but that impulsiveness to bring them home in the first place made her think perhaps it was something he might need. As it turned out, the morning proved just that. # Part 5 A dream may inspire - so should never be ignored Dr Aaron Livitt (1900 – 1973) “Oh Josh… er, Terry.” Angela was aghast at the smell of pee and the fact that all the baby blankets were soaked and strewn in wet lumps around the inflatable mattress. ‘Terry’ was just coming round and had no real idea what was going on as nothing quite registered at that point. Judging by the state of the bedding her guest probably had a very disturbed night. He also must have pissed a couple of gallons around the place for everything to get so saturated. The warmth of the room only emphasised the smell but he seemed oblivious to what had happened. # He lay there all but naked wearing only his soaked and stinky underpants as Angela busied herself in drawing back the blinds and opening a window. A cool gust of wind agitated the air and sent a shiver briefly across the wet boy’s body. It was that cooling shock which woke him up to realise what he’d done. In remarkable quick succession of expressions - horror, confusion and sadness - crossed his face. He knew he was in trouble, thinking no one would put up with an adult pissing the bed. Seeing ‘Terry’ coming to terms with his damp situation Angela couldn’t help but think she already had the solution to the problem. “OK mister,” she picked up a few of the soaked items. “This isn’t going to happen again.” Despite herself she admonished him as if he was a toddler because, in her eyes, she thought of him as a young teenager not an adult. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, guilt let it pass. Everything was soaked but any excuse he hoped to come up with was a nonstarter because there wasn’t one he could offer to explain why this happened for a second time. She looked in his bleary, almost tearful eyes and saw only despondency as he tried to emerge from a rather deep and what had been to him at least a rather peaceful sleep. Indeed, the last two nights had proved wonderful for his ability to sleep without any anxious thoughts, stress or fear. So, when Angela hinted that precautions would be taken in future he simply accepted it. “Yer, ermm, sorry, I, er, ermmmmm, sorry.” His voice was feeble and filled with dejection. He’d slept with a warm glow making him feel safe and secure; he hadn’t worked out that maybe that ‘glow’ wasn’t just an internal feeling but a physical one as well. # He tried to think why he’d pissed himself again. Once could have been an accident but a second time just seemed laziness. There were no dreams he could remember that might have caused it, all he could remember was that as he slept he was no longer concerned about anything. Indeed, the room was at a pleasant temperature, the fleecy blankets cosy, the bouncy mattress comfortable; he’d slept in a haze of utter contentment. He was at a place, and more importantly, with someone who cared, so, after the year he’d had this was an unbelievable bonus. He didn’t want it to end by alienating the one person who’d stretched out a helping hand. # The open window allowing a cool breeze to circulate the room drew attention to ‘Terry’s’ soaked underwear; his limp penis damply outlined as the white discoloured material stuck against genitals and pubic hair. He felt guilty and tried to cover up but of course Angela had seen all there was to see and wasn’t impressed. Guilt turned to apprehension, he certainly didn’t want to leave this safe haven and find himself back out in a world he’d so recently wanted to depart. She may be an angel but… even angels must have a natural abhorrence of pissy people so realised, if he proved too much of a burden, that he couldn’t rely on her understanding to keep a place in the house. He nodded at the inferred changes, although she didn’t say what, as she picked up all the damp stuff. As she inspected one of the scrunched-up, wet fleecy sheets a little sigh escaped her lips. It wasn’t aimed at ‘Terry’ but he caught what that sound might suggest. In fact, she was merely remembering when she’d bought it - the day after she’d been told of her pregnancy and in a deliriously happy mood had seen it in a shop window and bought it on a whim. # Angela went to the bathroom and returned with a hand towel. She pointed to his groin indicating his underwear needed to join everything else in the wash. Feeling greatly embarrassed he sheepishly removed and handed them over. He could barely make eye contact he felt so small, stupid and babyish. Wetting again had literally dampened any of the confidence he was getting back. She left the room with a pile of washing and a raised eyebrow as he timidly held the small piece of fabric against his genitals. To Angela this image just confirmed once again what a shy, innocent and tragic little boy she had under her roof. The room temperature had certainly dropped a few degrees; this was partly due to the open window but mainly to the shame he was feeling. Of course, standing around naked didn’t help. He shivered and wondered if because of this incident he’d have to leave. His body shook at the thought, whilst his breathing became strained and his chest tightened. There was a sudden rush of fear because he was scared of being out in public again… he wasn’t ready. His head was filled with worry and unexpectedly his panic attack resulted in something else. His bladder contracted and a stream of warm golden piss flooded the towel pressed against his lower extremities. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” # He took a shower and hoped to feel better when finished. As he scrubbed away the debris of his wet night, and surreptitiously wrung out the freshly washed towel, he reviewed the conversation and thought that Angela’s words hadn’t actually meant he was being thrown out, which was a great relief. However, he also knew she rightly had some concerns and decided to comply with whatever was requested. He thought it only fair and besides, for the moment, he had no better plans and nowhere else to go. He realised he needed her to continue to care. When he returned to the nursery everything had been picked up. All that was left was the grey inflated plastic mattress, which he’d found surprisingly comfy to sleep on. The damp sheets and blankets had all been removed and the place was left looking more like a child’s nursery than it had appeared before. She’d also given the room a quick spray of air freshener, which certainly helped. # As if seeing it for the first time he really investigated the room. The paper on the walls, the soft pastel colours and the images of baby animals in nappies were all really quite endearing. He was suddenly jealous of their innocence, half of him wished he could turn back the clock but then remembered his childhood hadn’t been all that wonderful. However, those smiling, happy images made him wish for better times. He wondered about the unmade crib and whilst nosing around in the drawers and closet noticed baby clothes and toys. He took out and examined one of the small white onesies that again was incredibly soft but so tiny only a new baby would fit into. He wasn’t sure if they were for a particular infant, or items from her shop. # She hadn’t told him about her lost child although they had talked about her husband and ‘Terry’ thought that perhaps his Good Samaritan might be pleased to have company for a little while. Although she seemed happy and organised he had wondered if she might be a bit lonely to have taken him in so readily. However, as he dried himself down he deliberated if she had kids of her own. She hadn’t mentioned it but the nursery setting meant she had, or was thinking about, babies. He was still thinking of that when he looked around for his clothes. As he’d arrived at Angela’s home wearing only the clothes on his back, his choice of attire was limited. He still had his jeans and shirt piled on a chair where he’d dumped them the previous night. However, also set out on the dresser, next to his phone, keys and small pile of change, were the washed white knickers and PJ bottoms she’d given him the night he arrived. They were a lot more comfortable to wear around the house so slipped into them and, barefooted, made his way to the kitchen. # “Angela.” “Yes Terry.” “My er, the spare room, the er, nursery… is that for your baby or stuff from work?” Angela knew that this observation would come at some point but was conflicted about telling the truth. “Mostly items from the shop.” She decided on keeping the real reason to herself, even though some of that stuff had been around for fourteen years or more. “I keep some things to check details, quality, you know, and make reports back to the suppliers.” She wasn’t sure if he believed her but it sounded plausible. “What about the wall paper?” “Er, well, er, it was like that when I took this place on and I, well, I thought it looked cute so just haven’t got around to re-doing that room yet.” She smiled through her lie hoping it would be the end of that particular line of questions. It was. # “Look,” ‘Terry’ said sheepishly, “I’m so sorry about all the extra work I made for you last night. I don’t mind doing the washing myself, I don’t see why you should be inconvenienced. I mean, you took me in and, er, this is not the payment you probably expected.” Angela looked at him in a strange and irritated way. “I didn’t… and don’t expect any payment.” She seemed aggravated. “You needed help and I was pleased I could offer it and… and… there is no rush on this… when you feel able to, I’m hopeful you’ll get on with your young life in a happier frame of mind.” The words streamed from her mouth but it was apparent she was angry at the very suggestion of some kind of payment. “I’m sorry,” ‘Terry’ gulped at the gaffe he realised he’d made. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.” He looked guiltily down at his bare feet. “I meant, erm, it was a poor way for me to repay your kindness by giving your more work… erm.. er... Oh, I’m sorry if it came out any other way.” Angela was pleased that he was a bit on the defensive because she hoped it would end the ‘nursery’ discussion. However, the main reason she was angry was that some kind of ‘payment’ had crossed her mind but probably not in a way ‘Terry’ would have thought. She instantly calmed down. “Of course sweetheart, I’m sorry I jumped down your throat.” She smiled an apology. “Of course you didn’t mean anything by it and you don’t have to worry. You can stay here until you are ready to move on. We need to get you that ‘new start’ you said you wanted.” She ran her hand down the chastised boy’s arm in a friendly manner. “Now… what would you like for breakfast?” # Part 6 Take your destiny out of the hands of others anon Angela’s house was bigger than something a single person might need. She and husband Joshua had fallen in love with its rural cuteness and proximity to the city: it seemed to have the best of both worlds. After his death, and the death of their child, she couldn’t bear to part with the only thing that linked them all together, so she stayed and her love for the place had increased with time. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else and, thanks to the huge insurance pay out, she didn’t need to find anywhere smaller. That was partly why she never re-furnished the much hoped for nursery. It was that one contact between them all and she simply hadn’t wanted to change things. Joshua, her darling doctor husband, had loved decorating the room ready for their first child. He’d done it on whim just two days after he’d been told the news Angela was expecting, and only a week before he died so tragically. No, the room stayed as it was and how it should have been. Those sweet little animals wearing nappies were just typical of her hubby. He was thoughtful, loving and soppy; all the things that had made Angela fall for him in the first place. # The property was a large, three bedroom detached house at the bottom of a cul-de-sac. It had plenty of land around it and the large back garden led down to a fence that separated it from a rough piece of common land full of weeds and tall grass. Downstairs the house had a large kitchen that led through to a utility room and garage on one side, whilst the other had a nice sized lounge and a similar sized dining room. Upstairs was Angela’s en-suite main bedroom, a small box-room, another family bathroom and a further two similar sized bedrooms. One had the nursery, the other, which would have been the child’s play-area, was full of junk Angela hadn’t got around to sorting out or throwing away. # From the moment she saw the young man about to commit suicide Angela’s submerged maternal feelings had surfaced. She wasn’t totally aware at the time but there was no doubt about it, she was definitely thinking nurturing thoughts about her guest. With the revelations about his life she became even more motherly and just wanted to protect the boy from a world that had so cruelly dumped on him. At work she’d been able to keep any maternal feelings under control. Surrounded by happy, weepy, terrified mothers (and mothers-to-be) she saw it as her duty to be caring but not to drown in the entire baby and baby clothing industry. One of the things that stopped her getting trapped in that hormonal clique was her ‘other’ customers, the ones who had a different take on the baby business. She loved the idea of grown-ups dressing and acting as toddlers or attempting to stem the rush to adulthood of certain children who needed more time. There appeared to be many different reasons for the ABDL community (she now knew her customer’s desires had a title) to want a shop like hers and was pleased to be able to satisfy that need. The mail order side of it alone had blossomed from absolutely nothing into a very lucrative part of the enterprise and Angela was satisfied with all the new suppliers and customers it brought her into contact with. She was surprised at just how big that particular community actually was and intrigued by many of her client’s requests, whilst being fascinated by the alternative ‘babies’ and ‘toddlers’ she met in store. # As word spreads throughout the ‘community’ these gatherings became more and more popular. On those special Sundays mummies and daddies brought their ‘little ones’ out for this brief, but much needed, social meeting. Kids, teens, and middle aged men and women, dressed in a variety of juvenile attire and often very thick protection, would somehow all be happily playing together, whilst their ‘carers’ looked on; exchanging stories, advice, buying new clothes and planning other more specialist purchases. Graham ‘Daddy’ Griffin was a rich, powerful looking man with a very gentle way of speech. He had two young teen boys he dressed as twin toddlers who always looked so sweet and innocent together. In their matching little outfits they would play together whilst ‘Daddy’ shopped. Their bulky nappies only partly contained in tiny shiny nylon shorts as the cuffs of their plastic pants peaked out from the leg-holes whilst they careered around the place. He lavished toys, gifts and the cutest of cute baby style clothes on them, which, as far as Angela was concerned, made them simply adorable. Since Mr Griffin and his boys had first entered Everything4Baby Angela had thought them the cutest of cute ‘families’. Many of her other customers played their part and acted as kids but this seemed more real. In fact it was very real and it aroused her curiosity. In a quiet moment, when she asked him how he was able to keep them so young and dependent on him, he confided it was down to constant positive reinforcement of their toddler status. Also, encouragement that they were both very good boys, a rather wonderful subliminal audio file he’d developed over the years and, he whispered as if it was the biggest secret of them all, “A file of Blueline30”. This last piece of information stuck in her mind. She had no idea what it was or what it might refer to but the name stuck. # Joshua was wet through. It was a Sunday afternoon and mummy needed to attend to other business so unfortunately had to desert him for some time. She hated leaving her Sweetums alone at all but occasionally, especially as the company was going through a bit of transition, it just couldn’t be helped. He had plenty of things in his large playpen to keep him occupied but for the last hour and a half he’d been crying on and off because his nappy was full and uncomfortable. Mummy had put him in an extra-large disposable with several thick gel absorbency pads in the hope that it would hold him until her return. It almost had but his rather cute little butterfly onesie, with matching plastic pants had reached its absorbent limits. There were four snaps at its crotch to hold the onesie in place. Unfortunately, the two middle ones had popped under the strain so her little bundle of joy looked like he’d had a medical accident. The huge bloated nappy had squeezed out of the gap and made it look like some huge growth had appeared between his legs. The butterfly motif on his plastic pants looked none too happy at being put under such stress. He stood holding the bars searching for any sign of mummy - his baby coordination not allowing him any chance of escape. Meanwhile, the pet lip and snivelling sobs made him one very unhappy baby. The TV was running a cartoon channel and the radio was tuned to a children’s music station, it was hoped that between them and his toys they would keep her little boy entertained until she returned. A low moan escaped the little chap’s lips as he plopped down, exhausted from all his crying and standing, hardly noticing the squelch as he landed on his padded bottom. The sudden pressure on his bloated protection burst the final two snaps and releasing his onesie, which flew up to his chest, leaving the startled boy staring at his swollen plastic pants. He didn’t know what to do so snatched up Bunny Fluffytail and clutched her tightly. Worried about the loss of his mummy, being alone and seeking some kind of comfort, he pushed the stuffed animal’s ear into his mouth and sucked. He hadn’t noticed that his dum-dum was on a ribbon pinned to his onesie just inches away. However, Bun-Bun’s ear was a comfort and eventually he sunk into a sleepy doze with his head resting against the bars of the playpen. # As soon as Angela had left for work ‘Terry’ cleaned up his mess, shoved it in the washer and tumble dried all the bedding. He really hated the fact that he’d wet and promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. He also wanted Angela to note that he wasn’t leaving everything to her; he was quite prepared to pull his weight, if she would let him. He found the vacuum cleaner and went around all the rooms lost for a short while in the sucking up of dust and worrying about nothing else. He left Angela’s room, thinking it would be a bit disrespectful to enter uninvited but made a mental note to explain why he had not ventured in. The house wasn’t in bad order but it was obvious that Angela was a very busy woman and had very little time for intense housekeeping. ‘Terry’ was happy to do his bit, cleaning the kitchen, organising the utility room and even ironing some of the items once they were dry. It didn’t take him long and once he’d plumped up the cushions, was happy to just lounge around with nothing more taxing than decide which TV channel to watch. # Whilst her guest had that to decide, Angela was in the throes of starting to make some significant changes to her work life. She had resolved that ‘Terry’ was too precious to leave to the vagaries of chance. He had met with nothing but abuse and harm his entire existence and was determined, one way or another, to change that for him. She was angry that such a sweet natured teenager should have suffered so much in his young life. As it was an opportunity arose for her to find out a little more about this ABDL thing that was now occupying a great deal of her business. A supplier had sent an order to the shop instead of direct to the customer. It was a pair of matching shortalls that Daddy Griffin had ordered for his twin boys so Angela put in a call asking if he’d like her to send them on or, if he was in the vicinity, perhaps he’d like to call in. He said he’d pick them up that lunchtime and, he added flirtily, if she was available he’d like to take her to lunch. Needing information she coyly accepted his invitation and hoped this man would provide it. # Perhaps unsurprisingly Angela’s most recent dream had featured, yet again, baby Joshua except with the face and teenage build of ‘Terry’. The dream was bizarre because this amalgamation of two different people didn’t concern her. In fact, in the dream, baby ‘Terry’ crawling around dressed only as an infant had appeared the most natural thing in the world. Even friends who were visiting appeared to accept this large child and everyone loved the cute, loving way he did everything. She’d woken up with this dream very much at the forefront of her mind and, together with the ABDL stuff she’d learned, wondered just how feasible it would be to transform Terry into a dependent little baby. Of course, she was having internal arguments about this game-changing course of action, but still, when she eventually settled the quarrel in her head, it ended up with Terry being with her but not as a teenager. That maternal feeling, the idea of being a mother and having someone completely dependent on her, was very powerful. Logic escaped her as she wondered if her ABDL friends and acquaintances might be able to help. She had no real idea just what steps, if any, needed to be taken, though Mr Griffin’s earlier chat about his boys had firmly planted a seed. # Angela had been unable to find any reference to Blueline30 on the net, although had found a great deal about various tones, rhythms and hypnosis. She’d read that for many Adult Babies/Diaper Lovers (she quite liked the term ‘Diapers’ but wondered if there was perhaps an English version, maybe the TNLL, The Nappy Lovers League?) their only involvement was the wearing of nappies and other childish regalia. For others there was a deeper need which liked a mummy and daddy relationship, whilst for different reasons, some needed to be coerced into a regressed but happier state of mind. This final condition of returning a person to childhood really appealed to her. She wondered about using a similar strategy on Terry and perhaps letting him once and for all, escape from the rotten life that seemed to have engulfed him. # She had taken to ‘Terry’ the second she’d seen this distraught young boy contemplating ending his life. Angela remembered being swamped with concern and compassion, feelings that overwhelmed her to the point her unintended emotions took complete control. She hadn’t known the backstory then yet everything she saw in those initial few seconds screamed at her to look after this boy. What psychic power, what interference from God, what blessings from above had suddenly entered her thoughts, she had no idea. However, she knew instantly she had to protect this child. Unbeknown to both the seed for Gordon’s /Terry’s adoption and regression had been there from that very first sighting. Her soothing initial words, that first understanding touch and the deep desire to be loved by the seriously scared youth clinging to the railings and about to jump to his death, had been Kismet. Fate and fortune intertwined, their future forever interlocked. Although neither was aware of it, both parties needed something, someone in their lives. The stars had aligned and their destiny became one. Gordon didn’t know it but Angela instinctively knew her life was about to change. She had a vision of that future almost immediately, why or where these thoughts /ideas/desires came from was unknown but they had assailed her in several ways. Somehow she knew that this grubby young teenager was destined to be in her life for a long time. She didn’t exactly know how but intended to see it through and hoped that the reason would present itself eventually. # Over lunch Graham Griffin proved to be wonderful company. For the first time in many years Angela was able to relax in the presence of another man. Not that she’d been off-hand or terrified in the past, it was just that there was always a guilty feeling that she was somehow betraying her late husband by even speaking with another man. Graham was different. He was polite, respected boundaries, was playful in the way he addressed her and wasn’t in the least bit pushy, letting Angela lead the conversation. As the lunch progressed Graham (they were now on first name terms) was full of praise for how Angela had taken Everything4Baby and managed to develop it so well. He told her how much it was appreciated by the ‘community’ that she had made space for them to meet and how clever it was to hold that gathering in the shop – the latest baby ranges giving everyone new and exciting ideas. They valued the lengths she had gone to in developing new suppliers, fostering novel ideas, encouraging innovation in parallel with her main business, and in such diverse ways. He also made known that because of her meetings, others planned on having ABDL gatherings at their homes or premises. So the group was becoming even friendlier and more community spirited. Because of this, he tentatively asked if she herself had such preferences, then immediately apologised for being so forward and presumptive that it was something she would share with a relative stranger. # She flushed a bright red and again Graham apologised for being so invasive but she waved her hand to indicate he had no reason to express regret but confirmed she herself had no such desires. However, Angela decided to tell him a few things that she hoped would explain her current interest in all things ABDL but first asked if this smart debonair man wore nappies and such himself. His face split into a huge grin as he laughed out loud. “No, no, no… I love to see them on others and I can understand why some love to wear them but for myself, no.” He elucidated. “My interest is in my boys. When I first knew about them they were young tearaways heading for a rather gloomy existence. Their past had been horrendous and they’d been horribly scarred by their juvenile life… parents, (he shrugged and sighed) an uncaring and hostile environment. I wanted to change that.” This of course struck a chord with Angela. “I’d like to say I did it for the best of reasons but, in truth, they give me far more than I can give them.” He looked down at his empty plate. “I fear I’ve robbed them of growing up to be noisy, naughty, mistake-making, uncaring teenagers, growing into adulthood.” He looked Angela in the eyes. “I love my boys and would do anything for them but I can’t let them ever be anything but toddlers. I’d hate the world to crush them and I have no doubt that the direction they were going, and the choices they’d already made, that would have happened.” He gave a huge sigh. “I can prevent that so they can have a stress-free life of nappies and toys, playtime and fun for as long as I have the ability to give it to them.” He was surprised after such a confession that Angela wasn’t being judgemental. She’d seen how happy and loving the boys were when she had met them on previous occasions at those Sunday meetings. How keen they were to do as daddy said and how polite they were to everyone. They almost glowed with pride if daddy praised them, which he often did, and they would giggle and wriggle in a joyously boyish way before getting back to their play. Graham confessed further that when he’d put the boys in nappies at the very beginning he thought they looked so damn cute and innocent it was difficult seeing them in any other way. It became the prototype look, the one that he based all other decisions on. So, that’s how they were kept, reliant on ‘daddy’ to change and look after them and for them to remain unsophisticated - pure and infantile. # Angela was more than a bit surprised that her lunchtime companion should have spoken so openly about his boys, and yet she understood perfectly. Was this not the way she hoped to help Terry achieve his ambition of a new start? Was this not exactly the same scenario that might just lead to complete contentment on both his and her part? She was excited to know more. #
  8. Diapered & Dominated by FulldiaperMichael Copyright 2012, All rights reserved. Legal: this story is a writing of fiction and therefore any resemblance of persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Chapter 1: The Lure. I have been a closet AB/DL for a number of years and I’m always looking for websites and physical brick and motor type businesses where I can see my fetish. Well while I was online once with a Female Dom, she asked ma, “have you ever through about some of the wetting websites?†I said, “no I haven’t but I’ll investigate them, any suggestions Ma’am?†She said, “Peeing Cupid†was a great place to start, also “Patches wet spot†So, being the tech savvy guy I am, I decided to check it out. I went to Peeing Cupid first and like many websites for fetish or any type of kink, they want you to register, so I did. The site stated wetting was ok, but no messing posts would be tolerated by the moderators. I was able to post a masked image of me in a diaper and away I went. I wish I could say that I had hundreds of women that wanted to talk to me, but alas, that wasn’t the case, and when I had just about given up on any chance of meeting a kinky Dommy Mommy type. I checked the website and sure enough I had mail. As my hands were shaking as I entered my user name and password to open the email. Behold, there was a message for a dominant woman that was located in another State, but she wanted to talk and see if there were any commonalities between us. I thought that’s a safe bet. A little background before I proceed. I was married for 17 years to a woman that knew about my fetish and used it as a weapon against me every chance she got. She exposed me in our church and community and I was urged (more like forced) to seek mental health as they viewed this as an OCD affliction. So, like a good God fearing person, I sought mental health. I was amazed at how many professionals had never heard of Psycho-Sexual Deviant Behavior – Infantilism! Needless to say after so many years of abuse, I thought “she’s right, you’re a looser and no woman will ever want to be with youâ€. It took me a year after my separation and divorce to figure out that nothing was wrong with me and have a better self-image. When the divorce started I lived in the back of business, where I built a small apartment and being the geek bABy I am used to log onto Prodigy and Compu-Serve and go into the AB/DL chatrooms. When they disappeared, I migrated to IRC and AOHell (AOL) and found like minded people. It was on AOL I met a nurse that was in college and having to dialup AOL long distance to the tune of about $400.00 a month for research access from the Internet. I explained that “why didn’t she use a local ISP?†She stated “she couldn’t get online locally with her computer. Many had tried and failed.’ I told her, â€I can get you on the Internet!†She said, “Sure you can.†I had told her about my fetish and she stated, “I’m ok with that. I’m a nurse I change diapers all the time.†I then had this brain-fart, make a bet with her. So I said, “I’ll bet you I can fix it.†She said, “what’s the bet?†I said, “Diapers while I’m there and a home cooked meal.†She said, “ok, and I control the bathroom usage.†I almost climaxed right then online. I slowly recovered and said, “You’re on.†I then made arrangements to travel the 12 hours to her State and repair her computer for a four day weekend. I informed my secretary Paula that I was leaving early to make a Long Distance service call. She asked, “do you want me to diaper you for the trip?†I blushed and said, “Thank you, I would.†I got back online and told Prillcillia that I would be traveling in diapers. She informed me that I was not to stop for the potty or change my diaper until I got there and she would change it. Paula knew about my fetish as onetime on New Years Eve I got a little tipsy drinking and leaked in my diaper onto my pants legs. Paula worked at the bar I was partying at and she whispered, “somebody leaked.†Then drove me back to the apartment and changed my pants and diaper before us both returning to the bar for New Year festivities. Now, every morning I’m not up, she comes back into the apartment and checks my diaper and gently wakes me up. I think back in retrospect that maybe Paula wanted to be more that a friend and employee Thursday morning was clearing my repair calendar of clients systems and about noon I aske Paula would she like to go to lunch with me? She accepted my invitation and we walked down Main Street to a local diner and the special was ham and bean soup with cornbread and honey butter. I was going to order just a cup, but Paula took the reins and said, “We’ll both have the bowel and four cornbread and honey-butter. She order us some fried mozzarella sticks also for appetizers. I have to admit it tasted so good!!! Not thinking that what goes in, must come out and here I was getting ready to start a 12 hour long drive. I had an old Olds Cutlas V-8 gas guzzler all packed with my software and hardware. Paula came back and knocked and said, “are you ready for me yet Michael?†I had spaced it, but said, “yeah, sure†Paula came back and very professionally cleaned me up and diapered me for my trip. As I got up, she patted the diaper and said, “hold on, let me make sure it’s on good. Don’t want you leaking.†She gave me a hug and squeeze on my padded posterior and told me, “drive safe and be careful.†I had gassed up the car the night before and got in and started the car, turned on the radio and found a station, checked my mirrors and car contents and diaper inventory, then I did the unthinkable. I went back inside the apartment and grabbed my locking vinyl pants and hollered at Paula. I said, “mail this key to this address†and handed her a note with Prill’s address.†I knew if Paula got them in the mail before 2:00, they might get there by morning, The drive was awesome. I was running through scenario’s in my mind as to what could be wrong, high jacked winsock, bad modem, malicious programs or viruses. About four hours into my drive, I needed to stop for fuel and empty my bladder. I cheated and used the lil-boys room and peed and pulled my diaper back up. Grabbed a Mountain Dew and some chips and hit the road again for another four hours. I had now crossed over into the next State and speed limit went up and my mileage went down. I had to stop about every three to four hours. Each time after the first, wetting the diaper. Just about an hour out, I felt my car seat and I had leaked. I grabbed a chux pad and put it under me, so not to ruin my interior. I’m usually a safe driver, but at about 1:00 AM I was so tired, so when my radar detector went off, I nearly dropped load in my diaper. I got off the Interstate at the exit Prill had instructed me to. I was now less than an hour away. I was told to call her when I a half an hour away. So, in thirty minutes I placed the call on my cellphone and she answered and sounded kind of sleepy. I said, â€calling as instructed Ma’am.†She said, “Where are you now?†I said, “I’m about 20-30 miles away, based on the instructions you gave me Ma’am†She said, “good boy. Got your diaper on?†I said, “Yes Ma’am.†She said, “good boy. Is it leaking?†I said, “umm I think so Ma’am.†She said, “ok, well I’ll be ready for your when you get here, alrighty?†I said, “Yes Ma’am†and hung up my cellphone. …to be continued
  9. Regressed

    Regressed Day 1 So, here I am, sitting at my computer wearing nothing but a thick diaper and plastic pants. “Why would any sane person dress like that?” you might ask, and that is a difficult question because I have no idea where the original thought came from. It must have something to do with trying to research an article online that I was preparing to write. I was new to the magazine and wanted to prove myself. So, I was looking for something crazy, something my editor would love and something the readers could feel superior about so, something definitely a bit sexual, kinky and creepy. I was checking through various fetish sites: ‘Adult Baby’ and ‘Diaper Lovers’ seemed a bizarre subject for me to get my junior journalistic teeth into. I was amazed at just how many ‘weird but normal’ people seemed to be into this particular ‘thing’ and thought I could have some fun with the subject at their expense. Why I chose this particular theme I’m not sure as it horrified me; adults parading around in diapers and doing stuff in them, definitely not what I’d call fun. However, as I looked into it more and more it appeared to be a topic with ‘promise’ and I became fascinated with the images and stories. # Day 4 Over the past few days the thought to purchase and wear this ‘infantalistic’ clothing has grown. In fact, I think it is fair to say that the idea seems to have overtaken any other thoughts in my head. Every time I see an image of someone wearing a diaper, I see my face smiling, or gurgling or sucking on a pacifier. It’s creepy and yet…? At night my dreams are full of these images of me playing, coloring, building bricks high or just lying in a crib with toys, stuffed animals and feeling nothing but… peace. When I wake up I’m happy and smiling but when I’m fully awake a chill runs through my body, which leaves me wondering why this subject is having such an effect. Yesterday I found myself at the drugstore buying adult diapers and I have absolutely no recollection of even driving there. My only real memory is carrying the huge plastic pack back to my car and feeling happy. Yes HAPPY and… pleased with myself. Again I’m not sure why but I suppose I was glad that I now had my own diapers and a couple of pairs of plastic pants to keep me dry. On returning home I just tossed the bundle into the back of the closet wondering why I’d just bought such items and telling myself that I was a being very ‘naughty’ and that I’d return it all in the morning. However, since then, some mornings I wake up and find I’m wearing nothing but a diaper and have no recollection of actually putting it on. # Day 7 Where and when I first got the idea of wearing a diaper instead of my usual underwear I’m not sure but here I am wearing them all the time; around the house and when I go to bed. In fact, I seem very happy wearing them and I can’t think of a time when I didn’t. Those first couple of occasions it all felt very strange; the bulk and the obvious bulge I was sure were very noticeable. The crinkling of the plastic I was sure would attract attention but to me it seemed magical. Thankfully, after just a few trips out in the car to the store or wondering around the city wearing them under a pair of shorts (I’d more or less stopped wearing jeans because they seemed just too adult) it all felt… wonderfully normal. If anyone noticed they don’t say anything so, it doesn’t seem to matter that much because I really did like the idea, as well as the feelings of… of… happiness… that this change in clothing gives me. Day 8 They give me a feeling of being fortunate, of being loved; of security… they give me a feeling of being me. Since I left home a couple of years ago my mummy and daddy… er, I mean mom and dad (why I used those childish terms I’m not sure) have er, erm, umm… what was I going to say? Sorry, my mind seems to be doing that more and more, I sort of lose my train of thought and the only way I can get it back is by visiting the site. Never mind. “Daddy… daddy… dada…” What the hell is going on? # Day 9 Why am I acting so strangely? I need to work and finish this feature and get back to normality as soon as possible. I look down at myself and the plastic pants feel tight around my waist and legs. I can see the outline of Disney characters on my diaper and all is forgotten because I’m filled with joy and happiness that I have them with me and work is the last thing I want to do. I want to play. I search the room for my best friend Timmy my teddy bear. As always he’s never far away and I reach out and give him a hug and a squeeze, whilst the feel of his soft fur against my naked skin sends messages of contentment to my brain. I sit him on top of my diaper and bounce him up and down; he’s such a silly bear. For a brief moment the feeling of ecstasy passes and I continue my research on ‘Disgusting Diaper Dudes”, that’s the title of my article, but as I look at the document on the computer, other than the title and my name, I appear to have written nothing… and yet… I feel I’ve been researching and writing the article for ages. I’m beginning to doubt my sanity. # Day 11 Where can all my work be? I’m sure I’ve typed thousands of words on the subject, but looking at my history on the toolbar, I have returned to the same ABDL page often. In fact, when I look more carefully, REGRESS is the only site I’ve looked at in the past few weeks. I’m sitting looking at the screen wondering what’s going on. Rubbing the slippery front of my plastic pants and wiggling my toes in the soft carpet. I feel my bottom lip trembling because I don’t have anyone else to play with and a huge gulp of sadness is rising up from my tummy. Timmy is held tightly in one hand, whilst my thumb is in my mouth and I am sucking and trying to think at the same time. Thinking is hard and I feel my eyes getting heavy as I try to stay awake and close the site once and for all. I hug Timmy even tighter and begin to sniffle, I don’t know what’s happening and I want my mommy. # Day 13 My diaper is thicker and more contented than ever and I feel so happy sitting on the floor with my legs outstretched, I chuckle because I couldn’t close my legs even if I wanted to. As I crawl around I’ve never noticed it before but there appears to be some soft relaxing music somewhere in the background, it’s from the computer and I can just about make out a soothing voice telling me it is OK to relax. The sounds and the words now flit through my mind; sleep, forget, enjoy, regress, suck, relax, wet… As my eyes close a feeling of utter euphoria engulfs me. I giggle because there’s this nice tingling running around my body and into my diaper. All I can hear is that soft, gentle music and those calming, encouraging words telling me that all is well and soon I’ll have no more worries. With my diaper tightly hugging my groin making me feel safe and snug, my thumb offering equal soothing qualities as I suck on it, I drift off. I can feel a warmth grow in my diaper as I let loose and wet myself but I am comfortable, reassured, pacified and… happy and I… Day 14 “regression complete” ***************** Subject Number 20012, Male, Age 23, Collection and clean-up party mobilised. Delivery as Dispatch Number 7773, address as shown on invoice. Special requests: Subject to only wear - pink diaper, pink plastic pants, pink pacifier. * Thank you for your custom * Regression Services Inc * All operatives please note – owing to successful completion of our first year in business we can now offer new increased premium incentives for all future subjects. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  10. Babied Again(Open RP)

    My name is anna and i have agreed to become a baby again. The couple i have agreed to become a baby for are Micheal and Kelly Wilson. I have decided to become there baby since they could not have any children of there own.
  11. Hi everyone, I hace decided to start working in a story as kind of a therapy to vomit some things on my head. This is the first one. It is written as a first shot, but it might serve as the prologue for a long story, I haven´t decided yet. Please, note that english is not my first language. Enjoy!! ------------------------------------------------------- - Here, take the pen, honey. It was Jenn who talked. She was always calling me pet names. Dear, honey or even princess, those where the ways she referred to me. At the beginning it was weird, but I have had time to get used in the last months. - Sign here, princess. Here voice was sweet and kind of hypnotic. It always felt like that. Even if I didn’t want to do something, it was enough for her to talk me in that tone, between lovely and strict, to bend my will to her. - Very good, princess. - she said when I took the pen and moved the tip close to the paper. Princess has been her favorite pet name recently, and I kind of understand why. Looking down I could see myself wearing a very simple light pink dress, sewed in a piece, similar to those that they sell for little girls. Attached to the dress was a little plastic white chain extending up to my mouth, where an also pink pacifier was resting. I almost didn’t realize that I was sucking the damn pacifier. Although it had been an almost permanent piece of my attire in the last months, always hanging from my clothes, it has been only in the last weeks that Jenn has been insisting that I take it into my mouth always all the time. Every time she saw me without it, she would insist that I take it or even she would put it herself on my mouth. It was just natural that by doing that, together with the full use that I was doing of it to sleep, eventually I started sucking on it automatically, without even thinking on it. It was even a bit scary to think how I had started to crave it when I don´t have it on my mouth… But, being truthful, that was not the weirdest thing of my attire. Below my simple dress I could feel my underwear, and probably all the other people in the room could see it, since I was sitting with my legs open and the dress was not long enough. You could think that it would be a nice view for whatever perv at sight, but nothing farther from reality. Although you would have expected a nice pair of sexy panties, considering that I was a 18 years old wearing a dress, that was not what there was under my dress. I moved a bit on my chair, changing my position and noting that my princess pull-up was a bit wet. Jenn has been making me to wear them more and more often in the last weeks and right now I could not say it was without a reason. Since I came to live with her, my bladder control has been far from what you would have expect from a 18 years old. It’s not only the bedwetting, embarrassing but still a quite common problem for teenagers. Ok I was not a teen anymore but close enough. What was disturbing me was how easily I had started to dribble in my underwear. Not only after going to pee, but also when doing some effort or even after laughing. Upset with the extra laundry, Jenn has been insisting that I had to wear the pull-ups. I was not happy with the child motives but she said that I was too little for adult brands. - Let´s go princess. It´s ok, we talked about this. Jenn´s voice took me off my daydreams and back to reality. I looked to her, always happy, always radiant. Her smile was enough to make me forget about any problem that I had. Then I look to the other two person next to her. I´ve never seen the lawyer before, and probably I wont see him never again, but I knew very well the other person, it was my mom. And she had agree to this so easy that it was almost incredible. Well I guess that she never had high expectations about me, specially since she found that I was gay. Oh yes, I guess I forgot to tell you, even though I´m wearing a dress, I´m a boy. I could not blame my mom, actually. I has always been kind of a zero. My childhood was nothing special, apart from being bullied every day at school until I went to high school in another city after we moved. There I really wanted to change my life, to fill the aspirations of a growing man, studying and having a girlfriend. But then there was the incident. Alex was the incident. Our neighbor and the man that showed me how wrong I was about my sexuality. He was the one who shaped me, who took me from being the typical teen with macho man ideals to the guy femboy which I guess I´m now. I cannot count how many times I sucked his cock and how many times I went to sleep dreaming on repeating. Until my mom found it, of course, just two months before my 18 birthday. And now here I was. Months later. Signing the most weird thing I´ve ever signed in my very short adulthood. The document was full of law jargon but Jenn explained it to me just that same morning. She introduced it to me slowly but sure that I was gonna accept it. At the end, she knew that I was too much obsessed and dependent to her to say no. - Princess - she said while I was still trying to completely woke up that morning, while she played with my hair -. You know that when your mommy brought you to me, you were still underage, that´s why you had no chance but to obey and moved with me, to your new house. However, yesterday was your birthday, you are now 18 and that makes you legally an adult. If we follow the law, I cannot keep you here if you don´t want to but, even if you do, there are certain things that I would not be ok with doing if you can refuse. I looked to her and nodded, implying understanding. I tried to reply but she took my pacifier and put it back on my mouth. I started sucking it and forgot what to say, just looked to her, to her hypnotic eyes, while she kept playing with my hair and talking: - So this afternoon you mom and a lawyer are coming. We are going to sign a contract. I that contract, you state that are not able to keep with being and adult so, with you complete understanding of what it implies, you refuse to your adulthood, becoming legally underage again and taking me as your tutor. I will agree, of course. And your mom will certify that you are indeed unable to keep as an adult. Since she raised you, she know what she is talking about haha. I finally took the pacifier out of my mouth and talked - But Jenn, does that mean that I wont be able to drive or to drink or to do anything allowed only for an adult? She giggled and replied after putting my pacifier back in my mouth - Ah, my clever princess. It´s true that you wont be able to do those things, but you don´t need to do them. I will take care of you and provide everything you need, like these last two months. We will be happy together. Also, it is a common therapeutical measure, it will last only a limited amount of time. Don´t you trust me? I looked to her, to her resolved eyes and nodded. She was hypnotic to me, I could not say no to anything she said. -Ok Jenn, I trust you. She giggled and one more time she put my pacifier in my mouth. -Very good princess - she said while she started to take my blanket to a side-. By the way, considering what we have talked, maybe you should start calling me mommy. - Yes mommy - I replied with a mumble from behind the pacifier. Jenn just smiled, took my pants down and said - What a wet girl we have today. Seems like my princess is really a big bedwetter. And she started changing my wet diaper. I looked to my mom, my real mom, to the eyes and she smiled back to me. I looked to Jenn and she smiled. I looked down to the contract and signed. Minutes later, my mom and Jenn came back from saying goodbye to the lawyer and they asked me to sit on the couch between them. My mom was the same to talk -You did very well there. You signed and everything is right now. I´m happy that it worked, the lawyer said that it was the most extreme case that he has seen in all his years. I was confused - The most extreme? I though it was a typical thing, to refuse to adulthood for a few years as a therapeutical measure. What has happened, mom? My mom laughed in answer and said - Oh dear, I´m not your mom anymore, remember? Jenn is your mommy and she will answer you. I turned my head to Jenn and saw her smiling - Oh honey, of course it´s a normal procedure but yours was a bit special. Let me explain it. Normally these contracts are made for teen delinquents or similar that need to solve their issues with society. They are taken one or tow years back to underage and eventually, after that year, they are legally adults again. However, with you- Jenn put me my pacifier and started playing with my hair, as usual -… do you remember my friend Lisa, the psychiatrist? Well… she owed me some favors so she made me a fake report on your mind status. I tried to say something but Jenn held my pacifier in its place and soothed me shhh, princess it´s ok. I will be here with you. The case is that Lisa’s report says that you are unable to cope with the emotional responsibilities of being an adult but also with those of high school or middle school… So your legal age have been set to 4 years. That is, you cannot legally do anything that a 4 years old couldn’t do. At this point I was crying and sobbing through my pacifier. What have I done? What? So it will take you another 14 years to reach adulthood again and… well… we´ll see what happens this time. Ok, little girl? I started crying even more, really in shock because what have happened. Without noting it started peeing myself and, of course, the pull-up was not enough. In seconds the wetness was visible in my dress and started moving towards the couch. Jenn made me stand and hugged me, soothing me - It´s ok princess. It´s ok, accidents happen, but it´s not a big deal. Maybe it´s time to go back to diapers also during the daytime.
  12. The Beginning

    Damp sheets were tangled around James, grasping at his waist, creepers scaling the trunk of a tree. He moaned and pulled his smooth pillow over his eyes. Why does this have to happen every single day, thought James. It seemed that almost every night, his bladder would defy him, releasing a torrent of pee into his bed. Stained covers and a permanent odor now graced his room with their foul presence. Please just stop, James prayed but he knew that these wetting would continue. Ever since he was ten years old, James had been a bed wetter, much to the dismay of his parents. He was now eighteen but the problem had still not stopped. It hurt his social life and just made him feel small, some how young inside. He climbed out of bed, his feet pressing down on the freezing hardwood flooring. "James come and change your soggy sheets," his mother called. "Coming Mom, in a minute," James replied with a sarcastic tone. She was nagging him already. She should know that changing the sheets wouldn't solve the problem. James strode into the bathroom, taking off his soggy clothing before tossing it into the sealed laundry hamper, shooting in a blast of deodorant for odor prevention. He stepped up to the toilet bowl and took his first pee, an agonizingly small amount. Why couldn't my bladder just hold it for once, he thought. Looking at his bare legs in the mirror, he noticed that a small rash had been forming. Great, now I have this to deal with. No shorts for me, whined James internally before his mother burst in. "James Preston, I told you to change those sheets of yours. What are you doing in here mist..... ," exclaimed his mother before she caught sight of his rashy legs. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to reconcile with her son, "James honey, I'm sorry I yelled. Your problem is only getting worse, I mean look at you." James looked down at his irritated thighs and calves before fixating on the ground, desperate to escape his mother. "Tonight I want you to come to the store with me, no buts. We need to deal with this once and for all," she said before giving her son a hug. "I love you and I only want what is best for you honey," she soothingly said. "Everything will be fine, just you wait and see."
  13. The Pre-College Road Trip

    Robert, a boy with light brown hair and 'Chameleon eyes,' as some called his hazel peepers, lived in a nice middle class house with his younger sister, Maddie and their parents. The house had two floors, the second floor having two bedrooms and a bathroom, the rooms he and his sister slept in. The main floor had a bathroom as well, and their parents' room. Robert couldn't wait for high school to end as he had made plans to take his girlfriend for a drive around the country during the summer stopping at as many entertaining places as they could and still get back Wyoming before the fall semester for college started. He was going to go to the University of Colorado. Finally, the big morning had arrived, but his parents had laid a big mood killer on him. "You know we can't leave Maddie at home by herself, and your father has to take business trips overseas this summer. I have to work at the hospital late at night a lot. You know that," his mother was trying to stop his plans. "I know," he sighed. "What if Maddie promised to be a good girl, and I took her with me? I bet she'd like to go to Disneyland and other places we want to visit...." The mother thought about ti, and an hour later, he was calling his girlfriend with the good news. He was pretty sure his sister would be a good girl if it meant she got to go to Disneyland for the first time in her life. Robert was now nineteen years old. Stephanie Morales, the Mexican yoiunger sister, was in the living room watching television when the phone rang. Her skin was a little darker than a lot of Mexican--(American) girls, but as they were three generations in, as far as being in America, Stephanie's English was as fluent as any other fifteen year old may they be white or black or whatever in America. She never really saw herself as being different from anyone else at her school, and though discrimination sometimes happened here and there on the news, she was pretty oblivious to it. She just never really saw it. Her own sister was dating a white guy. She didn't know his name, but she did see her sister hanging with him from time to time.
  14. Chapter 1: Discovery You know that dream-like state when you're sure you're awake but something odd happens and for a moment you realize you're dreaming before it changes or ends and then however long after this you wake and briefly recall that strange sensation? She was certain this was happening to her because it was all too strange. She had been waiting for someone to enter her life for years, someone to make her feel something that all the romance books promised; wanted, loved, but also exhilarated and enticed. What was missing? Why had she never found it? Her friends all seemed to be happy but it just never worked out with the guys she had been with. Her name was Danielle and she was a "typical" woman, living in an apartment, a high school administrator, long hours for months, summers off, a few close friends and family, forgettable really, normal and "average" in every way from her brown shoulder length hair to her b-cup, and slender but not skinny body. Sure she worked out and was tight, but not model tight, and nothing overly stunning about her. No children, 32 years old, not too late, but getting there. She was up late after a mediocre date that had gone just okay, she couldn't sleep, they made out a little, she would have probably done more had he just asserted himself, but he backed off as you'd expect any respectable guy would on a first date. He wasn't the typical guy she dated either which probably put her off a bit. He was her height, soft features, slender, not handsome, but not unattractive, cute. If anything he looked and sounded a bit effeminate and that was ok, just not something she was used to. She had been aroused during the making out, he had slipped his hand up her skirt and gotten a fingertip inside her before he backed off fearing he was crossing a line. "What a shame" she thought, "even this guy who has my panties bunched up and wet doesn't want me..." The date ended uneventfully, but she was worked up enough to keep her awake, so, time to hop on the internet where porn was plentiful, free, and most of all, free of judgement, no holds barred, skies the limit! She had a few sex toys, nothing grand or elaborate, a vibrator, a dildo... a vibrating dildo, she once tried a butt plug that vibrated but felt strange after using it. Not that it wasn't pleasurable, but, guilty, shamed that she was a "degenerate" for using it and thought "if I die tomorrow and my relatives clean out my stuff and find this, what will they think???" ...straight to the garbage Mr. Plug. Her porn tastes revolved around watching women masturbate with the toys she could never use, big toys, anal toys, machines built to bring women to orgasms multiple times sometimes squirting which she was certain was pee, or at best some kind of put-on, a little water in the pussy before the "money-shot" and viola a new genre of porn is created that REAL women could never fulfill. Still, it was exciting to watch and to fantasize about. "Let's get with it and get to bed" she thought, on to google, safe search off, she looked for masturbating dildo videos, gone through several old standards, they got her attention but not getting the job done. So, she went to her panty drawer and got her sexiest panties, they weren't much, but for her they were good. Fairly standard high cut french panties with a standard cotton crotch that she just loved to get nice and wet with her excitement. Panties on, non-vibrating dildo in hand, back to the computer, a slight excited flutter in her belly to get a good wet spot going with her fingers on the outside of the panties, then pretend a nice sized cock slides into them, parts her wetness and takes her home. That's it... that's how her life was, no in-depth thought on how it happened, just watching other girls masturbate, wishing it was her, or wishing it was a real cock inside her making her cum... zero creativity. She stopped. Tired of the cycle. She googled a new search, wet panties masturbation. This was different, girls with panties wet just like her doing what she was doing, she watched a few and this was working, still pretty standard, but different, at least it wasn't the "old" her. She slipped the toy inside her and started wiggling around on it. Nice... but it's the same, "I'm going to cum on this toy while wearing my wet panties, i'll take the panties off, wipe off my pussy, wash the toy, go to bed..." She stopped, she started to sob, excitement gone... she looked at more of the videos. She got pretty deep into the search where the results start varying from what you initially intended and found one where a girl was tied up, wearing panties, and peed them. "Hrm... that's really different" she thought "don't know if I like that or not, but what else..." some more videos like this, then a video where a girl was peeing and masturbating at the same time in panties. "That's kinda gross...but no one is here, and if I do die tomorrow, not like anyone is going to find out how my panties got wet in the first place... hrm." This is where things got strange, soon after seeing this video she started having that sensation of waking from a strange dream. A vague lightheaded sensation like she was lying down but also still sitting in the chair, wet panties, dildo, watching girls pee and masturbate.The sensation passed and she kept watching, the porn was gross, pee everywhere, sopping pissed in panties and a girl, screaming through an orgasm that she must have been faking because it was all too much. Yet, she kept watching, like when you come upon a horrific accident, your curiosity glues your attention to the spectacle. She felt her clit tingle and her nipples harden nicely and kept gently stroking her pussy through her panties. "Whatever, no one can see me for being interested, so what if I am, big deal" she said to herself. Several more videos like this, and a very wet pair of panties, her dildo every now and again slipping inside, she wasn't ready to give up and cum, especially watching these videos. It was almost like throwing in the towel, if she came watching these, what kind of person was she? It was getting to her though, she was keeping herself on the edge, prolonging it over and over. This was new to her, delaying an orgasm, denying herself the pleasure was both pleasurable and agony but something about it felt so right. She decided to do a new search and looked for pleasure torture... not much came up, "what do you call this" she thought, orgasm prolonging had more results but not much then she saw a link to something called orgasm control and a whole new world opened. Chapter 2: Awakening These new images flashed on the screen like a secret world she had stumbled into. Men and women, almost all restrained in some way being manipulated by someone else, teased, humiliated, given pleasure, then denied it, over and over the same theme, pleasure, denial, pleasure denial. This is what she had started to do to herself and here was a whole group of strangers doing it with one another. They all had a pain aspect to it also and this was way out of her comfort zone "but you know what" she thought, "I've gone this far... why not a little further?" She started rubbing her nipples first gently, and much to her surprise this sent a massive wave of pleasure straight to her pussy that made her gasp and clench her ass tight on her wet panties. The warm wetness in her ass gave her an extra little thrill but nothing like the new pleasure of playing with her nipples. She teased them gently, pinching them slightly and each time a tingle, a pulse of pleasure, what could be almost described as a mini-orgasm each time, not enough to satisfy but it directly aligned with her new-found pleasure torture. She pinched each nipple harder and harder and reached a point where the pain was too much, no more pleasure now, and her nipples were getting sore. She took some of her wetness from the now slippery and wet pussy lips and rubber her nipples to soothe them. Much better, "maybe pain isn't my thing after all, only 1 way to be sure though!" With that, she stood up started to rub her tight little ass and *whack*... stars. "OH MY GOD NO.... no fucking way!" No, pain was not her thing after all, but the experience did teach her that she could receive pleasure from her nipples and that was well worth the now red and throbbing ass. Sitting back down was delicate but the warm wetness of her panties quickly made her forget the pain. She continued watching and the next video was of a girl, tied up, panties on, and another girl slipping a dildo into her panties so the panties held it inside, then focused on sensual kissing, tonguing her all over, and consistently rubbing her captives nipples. The submissive girl couldn't get away and couldn't stop the onslaught and clearly didn't want to had she been able. This suited her, she felt drawn to this and looked for more like it, some with men in charge, some with women, but all were about 1 person dominating another woman, and controlling her through a pair of panties that would ultimately "catch" all the girls wetness as well as serve as a point of humiliation in some form or another. Her panties were doing the same thing, they were now holding in her wetness as well as the dildo as she watched countless videos and mindlessly rubbed her nipples, never letting herself cum, and why should she, she had nothing to do as the summer had just started and she wanted to see how long she could keep this up before giving up, giving in and going back to her "normal" life. Then it happened again, that wave of dreamlike confusion, this time she felt like she had actually woken up and seen Chris, then man from the date earlier, standing over her doing something but then back to reality in front of her computer, humiliating herself. She stopped again. "What's wrong with me that I can't just finger myself and go to bed?" Expecting an answer she sat there, for nearly 1/2 an hour, sometimes sobbing, wondering what the point was, going so far as to think "if I just end it all now, would it even matter, look at me, a fake dick deep inside me wearing wet panties watching women basically get raped and I'm enjoying it? How far I've sunk, I should be ashamed of myself and I am, but for whatever reason I like this, I hate that I like it, but I do, so now what?" An answer came this time, but not one she was expecting. The dildo popped out of her pussy with an audible "pop" and got caught by her panties followed by a warm trickle of pussy juice. She started laughing immediately "look at me, I squirted, I should call someone and proclaim what a slut I feel like. What would that be like? Hey, Chris remember me from a little while ago, yeah I've been jerking off and just kinda shamefully squired in my panties with a rubber dong want to hang out tomorrow?" No. Her laughter subsided but her desire to finish herself off never did. "Friday night... panties soaked, nipples burning in a good way, wishing I could figure out why I like this porn and needing to get my rocks off all alone... might as well end it with a bang!" Back to google, "how much lower can I sink I wonder" she said out loud. "Let's just combine it all into one search now... 'girls being dominated and not allowed to cum while wearing panties". That got her a big fat nothing in terms of videos, but this time she started getting story results and clicking around and reading the stories was just as good as the videos if not better because now she could insert herself into the stories and fantasize about someone doing it to her rather than watching someone have it done to them. Several of the stories had dialogue in them unlike the videos, an interaction between the captive and the captor. Words, names, suggestions, an overall tone. This fueled her fire as now she started thinking, "Who is doing this to me? Master? Sir? A stranger with no name? The school principal? A student?" One story touched on a girl being tied up and fingered endlessly by her teacher a woman. This hit home with Danielle because she thought of some of the high school girls she taught, but she thought of all the bitchy ones, always coming late, always flirting with boys and how she could teach them a lesson by humiliating them in class, holding them down, making them beg to cum even though they hated her for it... but it didn't seem right, she was too horny to think about making someone else cum and invariable in her mind, the girls would hold her down, and molest her until she agreed to change a grade, or let them leave early. Absurd, but it was working and her mind went with it... what if one of the girls showed up for a parent teacher conference, with her parent, and they did it to her then. "Now that would be something" she thought. "Some bitchy little 18 year old who needs my class to graduate shows up with her cunt of a mother and they start demanding I change her grade so she can graduate, I refuse, they do something to me to knock me out or something and I wake up, tied up somewhere... oh fuck that's nice" she thought with the dildo back inside her, playing with her nipples. Her screensaver had kicked in at this point and rightly so, with these fantasies, who needed porn, "I can think up anything I want, and if I die tomorrow... no one knows a thing! Ok, so I wake up somewhere tied up, spread eagle, we're all naked and the girls mom decided she's going to teach her daughter about control and you can make anyone do what you want if you just bend their mind a little." An interruption happened again, there she was, lying in bed with Chris, him standing over her, he's naked, she's naked, he's got his cock inside her and he's slowing pumping away and a rustling noise fills the room, she's wearing something strange like a thick pair of panties, he's rubbing her nipples and she's babbling something while he comforts her with his words "what a good little girl...." Back to reality again and sitting in front of her PC, her slideshow going, panties drenched, thinking about this anonymous student and mother manipulating her. Danielle thought "why the hell is Chris calling me a little girl? in my dreams? Chapter 3: Training "So, sweetheart, you think you're going to fail my daughter is that right?" said the anonymous woman in Danielle's fantasy. "Let me go, you can't do this to me, this is insanity, you think you're going to get away with this? Not only are we going to get away with it, but you're going to change her grade, you're going to thank us, and you're going to become a whole new little girl when I'm done with you... That's odd" she thought, "that's what Chris called me in my dream... hrm, do I want to be shamed and punished or whatever like a child might be? It does fit the whole submissive rape-fantasy role playing Master/slave kind of role but if I'm her little girl, is she the teacher? No, I'm the teacher, she's the parent of a student, she's a parent. Hrm. No, lady, none of that is going to happen, what's going to happen is that you're going to let me go, Christine here is going to fail my class, and you Mrs. Johnson are going to jail for kidnapping! "You got some of that right little girl, I did 'KID'nap you, because when you take a little girl against her will that's what they call it." Christine giggled at her mothers wit. "Christine dear, girls like Danielle have got a sickness inside them and its up to real women like me, like you'll be some day, to work that sickness out of them. It's like a toxic juice that gums up their inner workings, clouds their minds and makes them all grumpy and bitchy toward real women, big girls, like us. So what do we do now mom?" Christine asked her mother. We get her all prepared and ready to get that nastiness out of her and see the world the way she needs to see it, it's all for her own good, and eventually she'll thank us but it's going to take some time and effort to train her properly. Wow" thought Danielle... "where the hell is all this coming from??? Why have I never thought of this before, it's so fucking sick, but... it totally works. It even aligns itself with my boring life, my failed relationships, everything... if someone would just 'help' me get a better outlook that would fantastic, and I could cum over and over to boot, win win!" "We're going to start with gagging her so no one here's her screams because this is going to get very intense, very fast. Take her panties and stuff them in her mouth, then secure them with this pair of nylons. Good girl Danielle, now relax because the more you struggle the longer this will take. You'll appreciate this, I'm going to give my daughter a lesson and use you as the subject, you should be flattered little girl!" There it was again but this time it felt both humiliating and exciting, Mrs. Johnson's tone was so positive, so full of esteem and yet so condescending at the same time. Danielle was proud of herself for getting so into her fantasy and not feeling guilty about it, and why should she, she was in her own mind, and no one could stop her or judge her, this was hers, she owned it, sick or not, it felt right, let the world go fuck itself with it's right/wrong. She didn't have to answer to anyone. Mrs. Johnson: "Now, Christine, she can't get up, she can't alert anyone to what's happening and she's totally helpless, who else is like that?" Christine: "I'm not sure mom." Mrs. Johnson: "Well, is that what it's like to be you or me at this moment?" Christine: "No... we're in control." Mrs. Johnson: "Exactly, we're in control of little Danielle the helpless little girl who can't get up and can't talk and can't control herself.... what a good girl you are Danielle, lying there helpless and in need, just unable to fend for yourself... like a... like a....?" Christine: "Like a baby!" Mrs. Johnson: "Bingo! But not like a baby... a baby, who can't do anything but take what's given." "Here comes that sensation again like I'm about to wake up, but I'm already awake" thought Danielle. There was Chris, balls deep inside her hot little pussy, thick white panties pulled to the side, rustling like a plastic bag, nipples being teased, something buzzing, somewhere in her panties, feels like she has to poop but not really... "is it my plug, the one I threw out years ago" she wondered, who cares she was in total ecstasy, like a non-stop rolling orgasm, being kissed, nipples burning, ass buzzing, a big thick cock inside her as he said "that's it, you get nice a wet in your diaper for me". To which she heard herself reply, "I'm a good girl Daddy?". "You're a good little girl for me, baby". Ripped back to reality again, Danielle felt tired, she had been masturbating for hours, in and out of consciousness and her pussy was getting a little tender, panties we're clinging to her and her chair was even wet at this point, she felt like she had to pee, but she'd finish up soon, pee, and pass out. "Wait, diaper? You know what... at this point who cares I just want to cum. Christine: "So what's first mommy? Do we beat her up? Do we take pictures of her like this and threaten to send them to everyone?" Mrs. Johnson: "It's almost as though you're not listening at all Christine... I'm going to teach you how to make her a helpless little baby and when you're done, she's going to change your grade willingly." Christine: "I still don't get how that's possible but whatever...let's get started?" Mrs. Johnson: "Baby, Christine is going to begin working on you, I hope you don't fuss too much, it's time to make all that nasty negative gunk inside you come out and turn you into the sweet little girl you really are. Christine, gently insert this vibrating plug into her ass and while you do it, praise her, constantly be praising her and telling her how she needs this and how she really wants it but is too scared so we have to force her." Christine: "Ohhhh I get it, we're going to fuck with her so much and humiliate her to a point where she just accepts it and gives up, and does what we say? Like how they torture prisoners but instead we're going to make it like this is to her benefit?" Mrs. Johnson: "Mommies little girl, I'm so proud of you for picking it up so quickly... and soon she's going to be your little girl!" Christine: "Ok little one, time for your bottom to get nice and full, lets just lift you up and spread those pink little cheeks... that's it, you can't stop me, you're such a good baby, that's it, let it slip inside nice and easy, it gets wider but then it gets smaller again and it's going to feel so good in your little baby bottom, what a good girl you are, I see you struggling and trying to push it out but you know this is good for you so just relax... and... all the way in... yayyyyyyy what a good girl you are baby, you're mommies good little baby!" Mrs. Johnson: "You're doing great, but while you're praising her you have to give her some positive feelings as well, so now the next phase is to keep her clean, secure, but also happy... babies never like to be changed and hate being cold so we need to cover her up a bit while also making her feel good. Go get the diaper from my briefcase and some powder. Good... now... slide the diaper underneath her, that's it... Danielle stop fussing, no need to cry baby, it'll all be over when you accept it. That's it Christine powder that little cunny because she's going to need that once she starts getting wet. Good, now, pull the diaper up but don't tape it closed yet, rub some powder under her nose and tell her she's a good little baby slave. Perfect. Now the fun can start little Danielle! Take you hand start rubbing her pussy over the diaper, gentle little circles, this will arouse her and infuriate her at the same time, while you do that I'm going to gently rub her little nipples and baby is going to get VERY upset at her arousal so we need lots of praise and continued rubbing" Christine: "Here we go with your baby training little girl, I'm going to make you so happy in your diaper! Chapter 4: Reality? Danielle imagined this continued for quite some time in her fantasy while in reality the pressure in her bladder continued to build and she was still gently masturbating in front of her computer, all sense of time gone, lost in pleasure, lost in thought, just going with it, exhausted and accepting. Mrs. Johnson: "I think you know what to do now, I'm going to leave and when I come back I expect a well trained little baby slut who needs her mommy and does what mommy wants... this is how you get what you want in life sweetie, people will love you and if they won't, you make them through controlled pleasure. See you later little girl" Christine: "Bye mom! Ok honey, mommies here little one, making your little cunny nice and wet, nice and warm in your baby diaper, you're going to be such a good little diaper slave for mommy always creamy in your diaper, always wanting to make cummies for me, always turned on and needing to be filled but trapped in your diaper like a baby should be. Christine now alternated between rubbing Danielle's nipples and diapered pussy, Danielle couldn't stay still, she couldn't believe this was happening to her, being raped by a girl being diapered being treated so nicely but for all the wrong reasons she didn't know what to do but couldn't deny the fact that her body was so turned on she could cum at any moment, if only she could get more of the sensations, more would be so much better and then she's agree to Christine's terms even if it was a lie she could finally get away and get help. She couldn't help moan though, and she loved her fantasy, being so twisted but feeling so good. Christine: "Mommies little girl is getting awfully wet in her baby diaper isn't she, I can peel back the diaper and see you're little lips are so creamy and gooey your bottom is probably used to the plug by now so its time to turn it on. There we go, its buzzing away, ohhhh no, baby don't squirm, it's good for you, it makes all that nasty girl poison come out of you, that's why you're getting so wet, it's the bad stuff I told you needs to come out in order for you to be my trained little baby slut remember? Mommies going to work it all out of you, and your diaper is going to catch it all and you'll be a good little diaper girl from now on. The plug is in your bottom to help, you see the longer mommy works your hot little cunny in your baby diaper, the more goo comes out into your baby diaper and the quicker you'll be turned into my helpless little baby slut. That's also why mommy keeps saying these key phrases to her little diaper girl over and over with all the pleasure you can handle. The more mommies helpless diaper girl hears all these baby words and phases the harder it'll be for baby to resist, and soon enough mommies little diaper baby will love her diapers so much, she'll want her diapers wrapped tight around her wet little baby cunny keeping her nice and warm and catching all her sticky goo-goo's." Danielle started crying, in her fantasy, and for real, this was the release she needed, she wanted to make this a reality somehow but she couldn't, and her mind was in three places at once it seemed, fantasy, reality, and her dream of Chris doing this to her. She needed to cum, she needed to pee, and it was all so close. Christine: "That's it baby, you let it all out, mommies going to fasten this diaper on nice and tight and let you rest a bit, ok? Or does baby give up, does baby need her mommy, if baby needs her mommy to make her creamies come out into her baby diaper then baby just needs to beg? Mommy understands you can't talk but I'll understand if you shake your head, if your mommies girl now you shake your head and mommy will complete your baby training?" Danielle panicked, she didn't shake her head and her mommy walked away, and in her fantasy screamed through her gag for her mommy to keep going she was so close it couldn't end like this, what was wrong with her, why was she denying herself pleasure, all night she did this to herself, stopping and starting because her sad thoughts got in the way, just like real life where everything was plain and boring, where Chris wouldn't get closer, where her friends and family were dismissive and her job a dead-end. She was going to finish this, she was going to go through with it and complete this weird journey regardless of her own mind getting in the way. Danielle cried out and her mommy looked over, Danielle gave up and shook her head. Christine: "Is baby ready to gush out all her goo-goo's into her creamy baby diaper and become mommies good little diaper slut?" Danielle shook her head again. Christine: "Good girl, now let mommy fasten your diaper on nice and tight so her hands are free and mommy can turn you into a full time diapered little baby slut. That's it, is that good, nice and tight, your creamy diaper all slick and ready for you to wet with your naughty stickies? Of course you are, your mommies good little diaper slave. I have a surprise for you, the only way to get the bad stickies out and train your right is to get nice and deep inside your little cunny so mommy has this big thick strap-on to work it out of you. All I have to do now, is slip your baby diaper to the side and gently ease it all the way inside you. That's mommies good little girl, you take it nice and deep while I rub your little baby nipples. Now that's it you grind on it... mommies not going to stop pumping and rubbing your nipples until you scream and cream... good girl, you work your cunny against that diaper and around your mommies pee-pee, that pee-pee feels so good doesn't it, it's your salvation baby, it's your way of transforming into a good little diaper baby." Chapter 5: Acceptance? Just as she Danielle was feeling like this was it, she faded back into her dream with Chris, there he was, his slender effeminate body, big thick cock pounding away at her, the thick diaper rustling away, the buzzing in her ass from the plug, her pussy working against his cock... when he spoke... Chris: "That's my good girl you keep working your cunny and you make a creamy soon, your training is almost over baby, just give up and let the machine do it's work." "The machine?" Danielle thought? She looked around in her dream and saw she was on a medical table, an IV in her arm, heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, and she was up in stirrups. Chris noticed her becoming more aware and spoke again. Chris: "You're such a good girl Danielle I just had to have you, when I slipped my finger inside you on our date it was to distract you from the tiny injection I gave you in your arm, an injection that would keep you sedated long enough to get you into my special room in my home." Chris, all the while was still gently rubbing Danielle's nipples and sliding the cock effortlessly in and out of her soaked, hot, wet diapered pussy. "I've wanted to meet you for some time, I've been watching you, I know how miserable you really are and I know just how to make you happy, but it required some training on your behalf and I knew you'd never get into it willingly..." With that, Chris took off his shirt and revealed breasts, Chris was a girl, Christine, s/he was her height, soft features, slender, not handsome, but not unattractive, cute... Chris: "Please relax Danielle, I know the real you, it's exactly who you just fantasized about with a little help from the sedation and the programming you've been getting during your training... you've been here with me for days, reminded of your life, reminded of what you're going to leave behind and reminded that the real you is worth it, let me complete your training and you'll be mommies little diaper girl forever..." It all came crashing down. The dream of Chris fucking her was a reality, the reality of her home in front of her computer was part of a conditioning and training torture she was enduring, and the fantasy of being raped by a girl and turned into a baby slave tied the 2 together. Danielle burst into tears, real tears, she didn't know what to believe and she started to panic and try to get away. Christine was crushed... but selfish, and determined to follow through with her plans. She pressed a button on the IV to sedate Danielle further.... Danielle slipped back into her fantasy with Mommy Christine. Christine: "That's it baby, you're almost done, you're just about there... you're going to make a nice sticky creamy on mommies cock. Your baby cunny is going to flood your baby diaper, and then you'll be all mine. Cum for mommy, cum in your diaper, cum like a little baby who can't control herself and wants a new life as a diapered baby slave..." Danielle tensed, Christine turned off the IV, Danielle woke into reality as she flooded her diaper with cum, pee, and pushing the buzzing plug out. An orgasm would be a cheap way to describe what happened. It was literally life altering, she came so hard, crying, screaming into her gag, pushing the strap-on from her pussy, pushing Christine back from her with pee and cum running out of her, running out of her diaper the plug falling to the floor snapped her back to reality. Gasping for breath Christine released the gag and she drew several deep breaths like a newborn filling it's lungs for the first time. Christine got back between her legs and slid the strap-on back inside her and continued to gently pump and rub her nipples. She knew if Danielle had truly been trained this moment was key to establishing a bond with her and gaining her trust as her mommy regardless of who Danielle really was now she had to try. Christine: "That's mommies good girl, you did so good making a big wet creamy and pushing out all the naughty girl cummies, are you ready for a fresh diaper little baby girl?" Danielle: "... yes mommy, baby wants a clean diaper and another creamy in my cunny, I still feel like a naughty girl and only mommy can make me a good little diapered baby slave." This is what Danielle said... but is it what she thought?
  15. Hello, all you lovely people! Recently, one of my ABDL sisters brought to my attention a site for ABDL hypnosis and I wanted to share it with you. The site is called "My Little Lullaby" and it is a site where you can buy lots of different trance recordings and even order custom tracks. The tracks follow the same kind of suggestive messages you find in meditation recordings and the like and are meant to encourage ABDL behaviors you would like to have more often. I have bought the two free ones, "Sleep Like a Baby" and "Forever Young" and also purchased the "Diaper Wetting" one to see if it would help me with the mental block I often have when I need to go potty during my little time. I am very pleased to report that they both worked like a charm! The "Sleep Like a Baby" one had me down for the count like magic, and I woke up feeling very little. I was so impressed that I tried the "Diaper Wetting" one right after waking up, as I had to go potty and even though I tried lying in bed it wasn't working. This is pretty common for me, as I need to be upright to actually pee. It annoys me in little space because it just doesn't feel right to me. So I listened to the diaper wetting track and after it was over, still lying down, I relaxed and was able to wet myself right in my bed! I was ecstatic! I'll be listening to this track every time I have little space with the hopes that soon I will just be able to wet myself regularly into my diapers! The one selling these tracks, Ember, has the softest sweetest voice, and each track comes with boy and girl variants so you are being directly addressed by the gender you identify with as a little in any circumstance! I cannot recommend her enough. After being burnt so much in the past on piss-poor hypnosis tracks, here's one that really works! If you're looking for good hypnosis files, please check the site out! http://mylittlelullaby.com/
  16. James's Problem

    WARNING: While I don't have any sexual content. This story is very very graphic. I am VERY descriptive. Anyway I am back, this time with another name that starts with the letter J. Enjoy. Chapter 1 College... Never thought that I would see the day that I would be heading off to college. I thought as I lay in my bed, starring up at the ceiling fan. Tomorrow would be the first official day of summer and the first day of not having to go to high school anymore. I’m never going to miss that horrid place. I hope college will be better than high school. Knock knock “So, how does it feel Jamie?” “Being done with high school, great” “I can’t believe my baby boy is all grown up now. I’m proud of you James” my mom said as she shed a tear and hugged me. “Thanks mom” I said as I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m sure you’re tired from such a long day. I will let you get your rest” she said as got up and went to the door. “Goodnight, and sweet dreams” “Goodnight mom” I turned on my CD player and let the relaxing ambiance drift me to sleep. “James?” I cracked my eyes open and felt very cold. “Why is it so cold? … and wet?” It felt as though I had been swimming. Then it clicked. Not again... “You seemed to have had another accident?” Damnit. That makes this the third time this week. I just sighed. “Look, Jamie, I’m not upset. It’s not your fault. But, this is getting frequent” “Yeah, I know. I just don’t know why” “The doctor said it is just something you will grow out of” “I’m 18, I would have thought I’d have grown out of it by now. Also, why is it getting more frequent? It only used to happen once every one or two months” “Somethings just take time. It is probably just a phase like when you were ten. However, you are going to wreck the mattress at this rate” I know where she is going with this. “Maybe you should consider wearing some protection again. Just until this dies down” I sighed as I knew where she was going to go from here again. “Let me guess, Goodnites again” “Cheer up, you didn’t seem to mind it when you were younger” She was right. I didn’t mind wearing them at all. They were soft and comfortable. They also allowed me to not wake up in a smelly frozen lake. But, it was something that prevented me from sleepovers and made traveling more complex. “I guess you’re right. I mean it is only at night. But, I’m pretty sure I won’t fit into Goodnites” “You probably won’t. But I will take care of that. Now you go off and shower while I take care of things here” The cold damp underwear clung to my skin as I jumped up to have a nice warm shower. As the water washed away last night I began to think. Diapers... it has been eight years. Why did I have to start wetting again. However, somewhere deep down, I didn’t mind them. They made me feel young again and I wasn’t sure if I was quite ready to grow up yet. I shut off the water and got dressed. “I’m going to the store” my mom called out bringing me out of my thought. “Okay” I called back. Life is to short to get caught up thinking about these things. I will just roll with whatever comes of it. That was just how I was. I tended to just roll with whatever life gave me. Can’t really get caught up thinking about things that you have no control over. I threw on some clothes and played video games. Hours seemed to fly by as I enjoyed the first day of summer. I heard the door open. “Jamie, I am home” I heard my mom call out. I quit my game and went to help her with the bags. “Hi mom” “Thanks for the help” she smiled as she handed me some bags. “What all did you get?” I asked as I closed the door. “Some groceries, supplies, and these” She pulled out a large light purple package. Molicare Super Plus, so is that what they call big Goodnites? “So, are those my new Goodnites” I sighed. I still was not really looking forward to needing them but, as long as it was just between my mom and me, I think I could manage. “Sort of. They are a bit different to take on and off” “How so?” “Well, I might have to help you a bit with putting them on or at least show you how to do it. Also, you can’t really slip them on and off” She mumbled. “So how do I take them off and put them on?” “They are more like diapers than Goodnites, they have tapes. Which means that you can’t really take them off without needing a new one. I would prefer that we didn’t have to waste three or four diapers a night. So, once they go on, they don’t come off until morning” “What if I wake up and have to go in the middle of the night?” “Either try and hold it” “That probably will not work” “Or you can just go. They are meant for it. You wouldn’t even have to get out of your warm bed” That would be nice. I remember doing that with the Goodnites on a few chilly nights. I was just to comfortable. That also led to them leaking on a few occasions. “Wouldn’t that cause them to leak?” “No, these are better than your old Goodnites” A rumble from my stomach also reminded me of something that I rarely have to do at night, but on occasion. “What if I have to do more than pee?” “Oh, other than trying to wait until morning. In that case you can come and wake me” “Ya, wouldn’t want to lose another set of sheets like that time I had food poisoning” I replied, remembering when I nine I had food poisoning. I went to bed in my Goodnite like normal, but I was feeling rather ill. The next morning I woke up to a disgusting grime. I still remember clearly how awful it smelled and how the Goodnite leaked everywhere. “Unlike Goodnites these are able to handle such events. Not that I expect any to happen. But, your sheets are ‘protected’ either way” she giggled. “Okay” That was a terrible pun. But, at least I will never have to repeat having to fill my pants. Though she oddly said it would be alright? I guess it is comforting to know that they are better than Goodnites in some aspects. I was still a little annoyed a the fact that I would not be able to take them off. But, I could live with it. “Anyway, what’s for dinner?” I asked sort of wanting to change the subject. “Pasta” “Cool, I will take these upstairs to my room and play about on my computer” I said as I grabbed to purple package. “Alright sweety”
  17. Mother's day surprise

    Wyatt hears his mom talk about wanting a new baby so he walks to his room and puts on one of his hidden abdl diapers and he crawls into her room. Wyatt sits on the floor of his moms bed room in only an abdl diaper "mommy happy mother's day to the best mommy ever" he says in a babyish voice giggling cutely. He looks up at his mommy with tears in his eyes not knowing if she will love what he did or hate it. He looks at her and waits for a reply
  18. So idecided to bite the bullet and try my hand at writing a story. This is an 18 plus story and intended for adults only. all involved with this story are fictional and are over the age of 18. Please let me know what you think. Thanks Diapering Daddy. - Prologue - The gavel fell on a rainy day in May of 2020, but i did not care. I don’t care about anything i’m one of the most dangerous men in the world. I can’t help it when thing do not go my way i just snap. I reflect back on the people i hurt and killed to get to this point briefly i'm snapped back to the present just in time for the Red faced white haired Judge to say he was ready to pass sentence. I was forced by two court guards to stand they are lucky i'm shackled or i would add them to the list. “ Victor Wayne!” the judge said “ I find great pleasure in the responsibility placed in me to ensure your days of hurting people are over forever. I personally don’t believe in the death penalty. So i sentence you to be floated through the Rift to the other Dimension.” I ask myself what is the Rift? And what are dimensions? “Whatever sounds better than the death penalty.” The Judge goes on to say that My partner was already floated and will probably still be at the reception center at the other side when i get there. My Heart dropped I lowered my head “Nikki” i said. My ray of sunshine never really did anything but got a rap just for being with me to many times when thing went bad. I pulled myself together just in time to feel the blood boil out of my chest and then everything turns red as i headbut my lousy appointed attorney rendering him unconscious before the Guard hits me with a taser and i pass out. . . Chapter 1 . . . I wake up staring at a light not unlike the one in an operating room. I try to turn my head to the left and the right and i can’t my body won't even flinch the only thing i can move is my eyes frantically i look around. I can't even talk i did manage a grunt. “Aww! he’s awake” a sweet high girly voiced blond says walking up and checking the IV bag that i’m hooked too. “There is still enough left to keep him locked in himself till the floating ceremony” “I love this part” a cute redhead says as she bounces up to my side wearing a pink striped nurses uniform. The top plunges deep between her Breast almost threatening to spill out of the revealing top. Picking up my hand effortlessly cleaning my fingernails clipping them short i grunt not liking her handling me with out being to stop her. “ don’t try to talk sweety you have said all that you will ever say on this side of the rift” Who knows maybe they will let you once you cross over” Not sure what she meant by that she spread my fingers and set them on a handstand and filled my finger nails. The Blond girl walks up with a clipboard in her hand saying “ this one is supposed to be painted” The redhead smile and says “k” picking up an airbrush and going to work on my nails. “You have got to read his sheet no wonder why they are giving him the full workup” setting down the clipboard and picking up a stretchy pink ribbon about a half an inch wide tieing it around the base of my penis and balls with a bow just above my penis. Noticing it feels different down there. “Oops I almost forgot” picking my head up setting it on a block forcing me to look down my now hairless body. The redhead just finishing my first hand going to work on the second one. Looking at the blond “this is so much better then killing them” the looking me in the eyes and pointing to a tinted glass window above my feet. “Behind that glass is the people you hurt that are here to see your justice served.” she says. “They want to make sure that your gone” stopping and finishing my second hand. The blond walks up to up to the other side picking up my hand should we give him a little parting gift? She says to the red head. ‘I think so” says the redhead picking up my other hand setting down her airbrush slipping it to the side of her breast. The blond does the same thing holding my hand to hers with one hand and reaches down and starts stroking my penis with the other.I notice between her fingers that they painted my fingernails the same color baby pink as the ribbon around my now erect penis. “Mmhmm! I think he likes this!” the redhead says “Aww does baby like this attention?!” said the blond and she strokes up and down the length on my shaft. “Better pay attention! You know we can’t let him cum or we both may float” replied the redhead. Just as the Judge walks in. The blond stops rubbing me, taking both of my hands and tying them together with a extremely thick velcro like strap effectively making my already more useless hands even more worthless. The Judge steps forward “ by the power vested in me on this day I order you cast into the Rift in accordance with inter-Rift agreement 1 to serve his sentence on the other dimension. Proceed” The Blond and the redhead step to my sides and removes the block from under my head and start to strap the rest of the way to the back board that i am laying on before removing the tube from the IV and giving me a small shot of something else, I feel the strength slowing coming back to my body. The Girls turn me around and start wheeling me towards what looks like an elevator door the Blond pushed the button and enters a security code on her side. The Redhead does the same on her side of the door. The door slowly starts to open revealing a bright blue and white light that almost looked like an electrical spark jumping. Avoice come crackling threw the Rift. “this is Matron Ramsey we have the reception pen prepared and are ready to receive the prisoner at your will.” “Received” the girls said in unison turning to me both giving me a kiss on the cheek at the same time before they start to proceed. The blond goes on to say “The prisoner has been edged per your request and will are sending him now. Good look with this one! He is prone to tantrums and fits!” “We have rehabilitation methods that works with any brat” says the voice coming from the rift. Smiling the redhead pushes a button on the side of the table and the head starts to rise and a slide into the rift into complete darkness.
  19. Soft and Fuzzy

    This is a story of forced mental regression. It contains nudity and some sexual content of both male/female and male/male nature. So read only if you can accept that. Enjoy. ** For too long I’d put off having a normal relationship. My work and my other interests had made it so difficult. It was just too easy to put it off and say, that’s something for when I’m a bit older. But then I’d met Elly. It was a chance meeting, one that didn’t actually start in an auspicious way for a relationship. I bumped into her and spilled my hot coffee on her shirt at a Mugg & Bean. Despite that bumpy start we hit it off almost immediately and for the first time in years I had a real relationship on my hands. I’d been dating Elly for a month when she told me she’d been hiding a pretty big secret from me. Of course my first thought was, shit, I knew this was too good to be true. I mean Elly seemed like a perfect catch. She was young, successful, funny and beautiful. How was it possible that at age twenty-eight she was still completely single? Did she have an STD? Was she in witness protection or something? “I have a husband, Eric,†she told me. My face fell. Damn it! I knew it was something big, but this was worse than I thought. What did she want from me? Did she think I’d want to have a damn affair with her, leading nowhere? “Jesus!†I gasped, shaking my head. “No Eric, it isn’t that simple,†she interjected, putting a hand on my chest to keep me sitting. “Not that simple? You think I can just overlook the fact you’re married?†I demanded. “Eric you have to understand, there was an incident with my husband, he was left a different man. Well, really he was left not a man at all.†My eyes widened, picturing the poor guy castrated in some construction accident. She saw my look of horror and understood what I was thinking. She shook her head. “Oh, no, not like that. I mean he’s not a man anymore, he’s a boy.†“A boy?†She nodded. “His body is fine, it’s his mind that’s changed.†And now I understood. Her husband was brain damaged, probably lying in some nursing home little more than a vegetable, drooling on himself, staring at the ceiling. Poor bastard. “Is he in a home?†I asked. “No, I care for him now. I still love him very much, but it’s a different kind of love now. He’s my little one now. He’s such a sweet little guy you see. He’s funny and so cheerful and loving.†Hearing her talk of her husband this way felt odd. She spoke as though he were a real kid, her little boy. “How bad is it?†I felt compelled to ask. “He’s got the mentality of a three-year old. His memory of his life before is very patchy and I’m not sure how much he understands of those memories. He believes he is a three-year old boy, bigger than other his age, but three nonetheless. He knows he used to be bigger but he doesn’t understand that it would be unusual for someone to be an adult one day then get littler and be a boy.†There was a part of me, a dark and hidden corner of my mind that found this exciting. I felt a twitch in my loins and quickly forced my thoughts back on track. “And he’s happy the way he is?†“Oh yes, he’s definitely a very happy little one,†she assured me. “So why are you telling me this now?†“I like you Eric. I like you a lot. And more than that I trust you now. I want you in my life and that means being in Benny’s life too.†“I want to be in your life too Elly, but I have to say having your husband around would be very weird.†She nodded. “I understand that, but you have to see that he’s a child now Eric. He’ll see you as an adult, as a care provider. He’ll love you too. I promise he won’t resent you at all.†“Maybe, but I just feel really awkward about it.†“Please, just let me introduce him to you. We can have dinner at Spur on Friday. Just see how it goes, give him a chance. Give us a chance,†she pleaded, looking into my eyes. Despite all my misgivings I couldn’t help but give in to those beautiful eyes, nodding. “Wonderful! I promise you two will get along just fine.†** Friday evening I really did think about calling the whole thing off. The idea of meeting my girlfriend’s husband just seemed insane. The fact he was a total retard now actually made it seem even worse. What would the guy be like? Would she roll him in in a wheelchair? Would he be screeching weird noises the whole time, having tics and convulsions? That’s what I pictured brain-damaged people being like. In the end though, I focused my mind on Elly and I went. I arrived at the restaurant first, taking our seats at a table near the entry. Spur was a family restaurant and it was a bit loud with kids running helter-skelter between the play area and the seating. I only had to wait about five minutes, perusing the menu and feeling nervous, before Elly walked in. I immediately focused on the young man entering with her. He couldn’t have been any older than her. If anything he looked a bit younger, early twenties even. His had short blonde hair and was about the same height as myself, five foot nine. He was of medium build, certainly not muscular, but not overweight. What I really noticed was his mannerisms and the way he was dressed. Benny was holding Elly’s hand, but not like a loving couple would hold hands. He was letting her lead him along like a little child would. He was smiling, looking over at the kids play area with eager eyes, like he actually thought he could go join them. He wore a red t-shirt with a Spiderman motif. I was surprised such shirts could even be bought in adult sizes. He also wore navy track pants, which were normal enough, except that they ended a good inch above his ankles. They made him look like a kid who’s recently had a growth spurt but still wanted to wear his old clothes. But by far the most noticeable element of his outfit was the fact that he was barefoot. That really got my attention. He was a grown man but there he was, walking into a sit-down restaurant in bare feet. He certainly wasn’t the only barefoot person in the Spur. Many of the kids had shed their shoes and sandals under their tables to play in the kiddy-area and were often running and skipping back and forth across the restaurant in bare feet. A good number of those kids had arrived barefoot as well. But it was safe to say that Benny was the only person over the age of about ten, maybe twelve, who was barefoot here. Elly spotted me and gave a little wave, heading across the restaurant to my table. I noticed a few patrons looked up and gave Benny a quick glance, but most tried to avert their gaze quickly, not wanting to be caught staring at an obviously ‘special’ young man. I felt most awkward myself. He wasn’t handicapped looking at all. In fact he looked like a real overgrown kid, like something from the stories I liked to read when I was alone with my computer. I had to conceal my interest though. I was here for Elly, for a chance of normality, a chance of a future that didn’t involve a lifetime of loneliness. “Hi, sorry we’re late,†Elly said, arriving at the table. “No problem, I just got here a minute ago,†I assured her, standing. She led her hubby forward and said quietly, “Benny, this is my new friend Eric. Can you say hi to him?†The young man smiled at me and then loudly declared, “Hi! I Benny!†“Well hi there Benny, I’m Eric. It’s nice to meet you,†I replied, speaking to him as though he were a little kid. Benny smiled but said nothing more. Elly helped him into a seat and asked our waitress if we could have some crayons and a play mat for him. Within a couple minutes Benny was happily scribbling away at his play mat, the crayon grasped in his fist in a juvenile way. His fine motor skills were evidently all but gone and I was pretty certain he wouldn’t have been able to hold a pencil or even write his own name in crayon if I asked him to. Elly and I chatted about our weeks and Benny seemed content to be left out of our adult talk. When he finished with a maze he flipped the mat over and just drew crude scribbles on the back. Elly was telling me about a recent issue she’d had with her boss when Benny suddenly interrupted her mid-sentence, oblivious to social etiquette. “Look!†he shouted, holding up his play mat and pointing to one of his scribbles. Elly feigned a pleased smile and put on the high-pitched sing-song voice one uses with the smallest of children. “Oh my, that is a good one sweetie. What is it?†“A choo-choo twain,†he proudly told her. “Oh, is it Thomas?†she asked. “Noooo,†he giggled. “Thomas bwue mummy!†he reminded her. I immediately registered his use of the name ‘mummy’ for his wife. I wondered if he really thought she was his mum, or if it was just simpler for him to think of his wife that way. “That’s right, of course,†Elly chided herself for his benefit. “Siwwy mummy,†Benny agreed. “So what colour is that sweetie?†she asked, again feigning ignorance. Benny looked at it hard for a moment, then smiled broadly and declared, “Dat’s Wed.†“Of course! What a bright boy you are Benny! You know all your colours now, don’t you?†Benny nodded proudly. “Yes, he’s… um… very smart,†I chimed in, nodding too. “So which train is it Benny?†“Is James,†he informed us. “He a naughty twain.†“Yes, James can be very cheeky, can’t he darling,†Elly said. Benny nodded. The waitress arrived to take our orders. Elly and I each put ours in, then Elly proceeded to order for Benny, from the kids’ menu to boot. Benny didn’t seem to mind though. He was looking over at the play area again. He turned back to Elly. “Mummy, c’n I pway?†he asked. “Okay honey, but you have to be careful of the other children. Remember, they’re much littler than you. So no rough stuff,†she reminded him sternly. Benny nodded dutifully. “Okay, go ahead then. But you come right back when I call you.†Benny beamed as he stood and scurried over to the play area, climbing right into the ball-pit. “You don’t think that will cause any trouble?†I asked, a bit worried that other parents would complain or the restaurant would get angry. Elly shook her head. “No, we’ve come here before. He’ll be fine.†I nodded. “He’s really, um, cute.†“I know, he’s just precious now isn’t he?†“Does he always dress like that?†She shrugged. “He really loves Spiderman.†“No I mean, is it normal for him to go places barefoot?†“Does it bother you?†she asked, looking surprised. I quickly shook my head, not wanting to upset her. “No, I was just surprised by it, that’s all. You don’t see many adults go out to restaurants in bare feet like that.†“No, you don’t, but Benny isn’t an adult. You see Eric, that’s what I need you to understand. Benny is a little boy in a big body. He sees lots of other little boys going barefoot pretty much everywhere, so he sees no reason why he shouldn’t be able to do the same if he wants.†I nodded, trying to seem understanding. “So, he likes going barefoot now.†“Oh yes, he just loves the feeling of it. On the rare occasions when he needs to wear shoes he always pouts at having to put them on.†“And you’re fine with that?†“Why shouldn’t I be?†she asked, sounding defensive. “He’s a little boy and it’s natural for them to go barefoot. In fact I think it’s the best thing for them. His feet have gotten nice tough soles since he started running around that way, so he has no problem with glass or hot surfaces. He’s just fine the way he is.†“I can see what you mean,†I agreed, letting the whole thing drop. “I’m glad Eric. I really want you to be a part of our lives, but that means accepting Benny for what he is. When you look at him you need to see a big toddler and nothing more.†“I can do that. I mean, I’ll try the best I can.†** Dinner went smoothly after that little hiccup. Benny returned and sat quietly with his legs drawn up to his chest, playing with his toes while Elly cut up his chicken finger strips for him. Then he used his fingers to eat his food, ignoring the utensils. It wasn’t the cleanest eating job I’d seen and at the end Lisa needed to wet a napkin and clean his face up. He then returned to the play area while we enjoyed tea. Eventually it was time for us all to go home. Elly seemed satisfied that I’d been tolerant of Benny and was clearly still interested in her. I was glad to see that Benny wasn’t a complete slobbering mess and physically looked quite normal still. One final test came as we left. Benny took Elly’s hand and then reached his free one out to me expectantly. I hesitated a moment, but then swallowed my pride and took his hand into mine, letting his pad along between the two of us like he was our child. We headed out to Elly’s car and I finally got my hand back as Lisa loaded him into the back seat. “Puppy!†the young man squealed. I was confused, but Elly just reached down to the far side of the back seat floor and picked up a stuffed dog, setting it in Benny’s lap. The young man cuddled the stuffed animal close and rubbed his cheek against the soft material, smiling and closing his eyes in contentment. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow afternoon,†Elly suggested. “We can have tea and you can see my place finally.†“That sounds great. I’ll be over about three.†We parted ways and I felt pretty good about how that went. Yeah there was some weird stuff to deal with but at least I was getting closer to Lisa now. She was going to let me into her life.
  20. Staying with my Aunt Sharon

    As mom got in the car she said, "be a good boy for your Aunt Sharon!" I was sad and had been crying at the thought of my mommy being away for a whole week. "We will have so much fun!", my aunt consoled. It was certainly not easy for a 5 year old boy to be in a strange place for a whole week. I continued to pout as mommy drove away. "Let's go in and get a snack," Sharon said as she carried my suitcase and put my mom's quilted, baby blue bag over her shoulder. I agreed and took her hand. I enjoyed the graham crackers and apple juice she gave me and I was getting more comfortable. After finishing, she turned on the TV and I sat in a beanbag chair and watched my favorite cartoons, bugs and daffy made me almost forget mommy had left. As I sat and watched I started needing to pee. I didn't know where the potty was and I didn't always make it on time even at home. Aunt Sharon asked me if I needed to potty right after my snack but I didn't need to go then. I kept watching TV. Roadrunner was on and he was my favorite. I waited to long and soon felt a warmness on my crotch and bottom. I kept watching TV. Aunt Sharon came to check on me. She soon noticed my pants were wet. "Uh oh, Dougie, looks like you tee-teed in your pants. Let's get you cleaned up." She led me by the hand around the corner into a bedroom. My suitcase and quilted bag were on the dresser. She went to a closet and took out a plastic mat. It crinkled as she spread it on the bed. She lifted me up and laid me on the mat on my back. She took a round plastic canister of wipes out of the bag along with a light blue pair of my cloth trainers. She pulled of my shorts and I looked down to see that the pair of thick white trainers I was wearing were soaked and not near as warm as before. "You are a wet little boy!" she said pleasantly as she pulled off my trainers. I flinched as she wiped my genitals and bottom with the cold wipe. She looked at me and smiled. "Sometimes we have accidents, it's ok!" "Tell Aunt Sharon when you need to tee-tee next time. She finished wiping me down then slipped on the blue trainers and a pair of green shorts from my suitcase. "Now, then, all clean!" she said as she helped me off the bed. She rolled up the mat with my wet clothes inside and led me off to the living room. She took the mat to the washroom. I watched TV and soon forgot about my accident. She came back in the room and asked me. "Do you need to go potty?" "We have some errands to run". I shook my head no. She said, "Let's go try". and she led me to the bathroom then sat me on the potty. I tried and I pooted a couple of times but I couldn't go. She left and went across the hall into the bedroom. She returned with a pair of plastic pants. "Let's put these on just in case", she said as she took off my shorts. She pulled the plastic pants over my training undies and pulled my shorts back up. "Tell me if you need to potty," she reminded me. We loaded into her station wagon and she strapped me in the back seat opposite of her. She gave me a few books to read while we drove. We first pulled through the bank and I was given a sucker. It was orange, not my favorite but I happily sucked on it anyway. We went in the grocery store and she asked me if I wanted to ride in the basket seat. I nodded Ok and she asked me again if I needed to potty. I said I didn't. We left the grocery and went into McDonalds. I had a hamburger and some fries. She said,"You can play on the playground awhile if you want". I happily agreed and she read a magazine she picked up in the market. I climbed to the top of the slide and slid down over and over again. I was the only one in the store but I didn't mind. I crawled through the tunnel and swung on the swing. I felt that the inside of my pants had gotten a little wet. I didn't tell auntie though because I wanted to keep playing. By then a mom with two kids had come to the playground. She had a small baby and a toddler. We played and had a good time. I crawled back in the tunnel. It was nice and dark and I stood on my knees very quietly. My tummy growled and I pooted again. I stayed motionless. I pooted again and pushed. I could feel poopy filling up the seat of my pants. I pushed again and more poots produced more poo on top of the warm sticky ball already in the seat of my pants. I stood up and waddled to the side of the tunnel, still out of sight of my auntie and the mother. The mother called to her toddler, "Shawn, come see mommy". I peeked around the side of the tunnel as she asked, "do you have poo poo?" and checked his diaper. "I sure thought I smelled poo" and she checked the baby. "Hmmm you're clean, too". Aunt Sharon looked up from her magazine. "Dougie, come here please". She shook her head as I waddled towards her. She said to the mother "I think this is our culprit". I looked down and stuck my fingers in my mouth, something I did when I was nervous or shy about something. She stood up as I approached and leaned over my shoulder and pulled back the waistband of my shorts and pants. "Yep, he has dirty britches" She confirmed. The mom looked a little shocked that a boy my age would still be pooping in his pants. "Time to go now" she said as she grabbed her purse and led me toward the door. We approached the station wagon and she opened the back tailgate. She move a few things out of the way as I stood next to the back fender with the open gate shielding us. She grabbed my bag from the back seat. she opened the wipes and put them on the ground and placed the bag in the back area. She took my shorts off with out removing my shoes. I stood there in only a tee shirt, plastic pants and trainers she pulled some wipes from the canister. She carefully pulled down the plastic layer. "You're wet too" she said to herself. "I thought we were going to tell auntie when we needed to potty!", she scolded. "And I just asked you a few minutes ago" I looked down and continued to suck my fingers. My pants were at my ankles and I could see that poop filled the entire bottom of my pants. She reached over me and wiped my bottom, dropping the dirty wipe into the seat of the dirty underwear. She wiped two more times and then pulled the dirty pants off, removing the unders from the shorts. Bare-bottomed, she led me around the tailgate into open view and lifted me into the back of the station wagon. She took another pair of underwear from the bag and pulled my green shorts back on. "We need to make another stop",she said sternly. "You are out of plastic pants, Do you think you can keep from wetting your pants for a few minutes?" I didn't say anything as we rode. I kept sucking my fingers. "you shouldn't put your fingers in your mouth!" auntie warned. "I shouldn't be surprised though", she said under her breath. We stopped at an Eckerd drug store and we went in. We found our way to the baby aisle. "here's what we need" She said as she found the largest size Pampers. She continued shopping, selecting some Desitin ointment and a bottle of baby powder. We carried them to the counter and headed home. As soon as we arrived home she took me inside, without even unloading her shopping bounty. She again took me into the bedroom. "Little boys that wet and mess their britches need diapers", she said as she again took off my pants and underwear. She also pulled off my tee shirt as I laid on the bed naked. She lifted my legs and slipped the diaper under me. She pulled up the front and taped it on. "Now we won't need to worry" she said matter of factly. "Naptime" she said as she laid me on the bed. I fell asleep right away and woke up to a soaked diaper. I walked into the kitchen where Aunt Sharon was making dinner. "That is one wet diaper!" she said as she looked at me. She didn't bother taking me to the bedroom. I saw that the Pampers were now in the corner of the living room. She changed me quickly right in the floor. A week went by and I didn't use the potty once. When mommy returned, Aunt Sharon told her that she had put me in diapers. "I have been thinking about doing it anyway", she told Sharon. Dougie obviously isn't ready to be a big boy!
  21. New baby of the family

    I need a mom a dad and a brother and sister Name Age Role Name Wyatt Age 16 Role youngest son
  22. Witch’s Brew by Cute Kitten Joshua poked at the chocolate cereal puffs and marshmallow bats floating in the milk puddle on his highchair tray. His cheeks and chin were wet with milk; a couple of mushy bats stuck to his face. His plastic bib was as messy as his tray. He wore most of his food instead of eating it, despite his efforts to the contrary. He poked at another cereal puff, trying to pinch it between his fingers. The soggy cereal smooshed under his uncooperative fingers. He puffed his cheeks out in frustration, staring down at his hands and the delicate, silvery webbing of scars on his porcelain skin. His skin was so pale the scars were barely visible. He turned his wrist and the spidery, thin lines shimmered with a pearly sheen. Normal scars were varying shades of pink, red, and white. Not pearl and silver and covering nearly his entire body. The odd scars were souvenirs from a necromantic witch who had slowly burned and destroyed his nerves. He’d been very close to death. Aunt Gertrude saved him just in time. She even brewed him a potion distilled from the Font of Youth, to regrow and restore his injured body. Recovery was not magically instantaneous; his body was like that of a baby, and he had to relearn all over again. Hence his infantile lack of fine motor skills and barely controlled gross motor skills. And Auntie Gertrude raising him like he was an oversized baby. Physically, he was a baby. He couldn’t even manage to feed himself yet. Josh puffed his cheeks out and smacked one hand into the milk puddle on his tray. His fingers accidentally hit the rim of the bowl; milk and cereal arched through the air and splattered onto the floor. He froze, eyes going wide as he realized just how big his mess was. He was in so much trouble; Aunt Gertrude would be furious. He wasn’t supposed to feed himself; he wasn’t ready for that yet. Aunt Gertrude had told his big half-sister Tabitha to feed him, but Tabi had snuck down into Aunt Gertrude’s liquor cellar. So Josh had taken the opportunity to prove he was a big boy who could feed himself. He’d failed. Claws clicked on the tiled floor then a snuffling noise near the high chair legs. Josh looked down to see a monstrous, fluffy black dog-like creature lapping up the milk and cereal. Pandora, Aunt Gertrude’s familiar. Even at peace, Dora was terrifying. She was slightly larger than a Great Dane, bulky, and fluffier than a Tibetan Mastiff. Her cat-like claws and teeth were made for ripping into the flesh of her prey. She was a barghest, a hellhound; a beast who could only be controlled by a powerful witch. Her massive pink tongue swept out, licking up the last of the spilled breakfast. Dora raised her massive head and started licking the highchair tray. Josh giggled in relief, patting the thick black fur with his clean hand. Orange ribbon was tied in a bow by each ear, making her look pretty for Halloween. Plastic bowl and rubber coated baby spoon clattered to the floor as Dora pushed them out of her way. Finished with the tray, she moved on to Josh’s milk-sticky hand then his face. Joshua giggled some more, squirming helplessly as her rough tongue tickled his baby soft, delicate skin. He kicked his feet, his soggy diaper crinkling audibly. A wave of warmth engulfed his crotch as he wet himself but he barely paid any attention. He was too busy being tickle-attacked by Dora’s monstrous tongue. “Pipe down. You’re gonna attract the old bat with all that racket.” Tabitha crept silently out of the basement. She scowled at her little half-brother. They had the same father but different witch mothers. Just looking at him annoyed her. He was so damn pretty; a soft, lovely, delicate baby doll she often just wanted to smash. She felt like an ungainly sow in comparison. “S-sowwy.” Josh gasped out in a toddler lisp. His lungs ached from laughing. Pandora sat on her haunches, licking the milk and marshmallows off her muzzle. “Doggy tickles.” Shaggy, pale blonde bangs fell into his big green eyes as he ducked his head, looking down at his tray that smelled of doggy slobber. He poked at the mess on his bib. He hated making his big sister mad; it reminded him too much of all the times his mother had been upset with him. “Whatever. Just don’t start blubbering.” Tabitha snorted, tossing her frizzy dark brown ringlets over her shoulder. She didn’t even glance at his tray or bowl on the floor; she turned and went straight to the kitchen cabinet above the sink to fetch a glass. She held up the pilfered bottle to the autumn morning sun streaming through the window. The light caught the pale amber liquid, making it sparkle and shimmer. The bottle should have been brown; instead it was clear to show off the liquor. A homemade label decorated with drawings of pumpkins covered in spider webs. She read the squiggly handwriting. “Spider Cider.” She snorted. “Cute. How appropriate for Auntie’s Halloween party.” She sat the bottle down and turned to Joshua, who still sat quietly in his highchair. “You know, I’m 21. I’m finally old enough to go to the Samhain Feast. Become a full-fledged coven member. Instead, my Halloween is stuck here changing your diapers and handing out candy to filthy brats.” “Sowwy.” Josh whispered softly, not daring to look up at her. Instead he looked around for his binky. He didn’t see it, so he slipped his thumb in his mouth instead and started to suck. Pandora’s wet nose bumped into his bare calf and he smiled a little at the ticklish sensation.
  23. A daddy and his little baby

    First story I've literally ever done. Diapers have not came into it yet but it is on the next chapter. If you guys think this stories any good I'll post it☺️ Chapter 1. Mollys POV When I was 22 years old, I still remember the day my life changed forever. I was walking home from college and it was in the middle of winter so it got dark really early. It was only about 4pm and it was pitch black. I was walking and wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings because I was trying to find my keys in my handbag, when suddenly I felt a cold damp cloth go over my face and a hand behind my head. I squealed for a second before I looked up and saw a shadow of a man. I slowly felt myself go limp as he slowly eased me to the ground while still holding my head carefully. I tried to take one last look at the man, before I fell into a deep sleep.. I don't know how long I've been out for, but when I wake up I have a splitting headache. Before I even open my eyes I hear really loud screeching of crying. I open my eyes and I quickly close them again. There's a massive bright shiny light all over the room which causes me to sneeze. I open my eyes again and my curiosity turns into pure fear. I look around and I see I'm in a large, clear, plastic looking box with blankets all over me. I look around and the crying are people! People who are in the same plastic bed I am in! The room is filled with us. There are at least 30-40 of us in here. Everything looks much larger than normal. The more I look at these plastic boxes.. they look more like the plastic cots you put a new born baby in! Weird. Where are we? I look up some again and straight in front of me is a large glass window with people on the the other side of it. I blink twice and I think my mouth pops open. The people on the other side look incredibly tall! It's not just the height though, but the way they are built. They are like giants! My fear grows as I see all the giants smiling widely and staring at each of us, some are even pointing. As I keep looking up at them in disbelief, I catch the eye of one of the giants. A man. He is one of the tallest there. He has dark hair and very handsome. He kinda looks like Tom Welling. He is smiling down at me so much that his cheeks must hurt. He has tears in his eyes and a few run down. When I keep looking at him he clutches his chest at wipes his tear with a tissue and is smiling wider. An excited man comes behind him and pats him on the back a few times and shakes him. He looks like he's saying 'congratulations' and both at them just watch me. I put my heavy head back down. Who are they? Where am I?.. Jonathan's POV I walk up to the adoption building with a heavy heart and let out a big sigh. "This is it" I say under my breath. "Hey, You okay?" Michael puts an confronting arm over me. Michael is my older brother, and he is here to give me moral support. "Yeah I'm fine. It's just.. it's finally here. This moment" Michael laughs puts his arm round my shoulder and gives it a little shake. "Your right, it's here... your baby's here. And he or she waiting on you" he says joyfully. My smiles widens. I've never been this happy. At the age of 35 I'm finally going to be a parent. After my wife died I've never been interested in finding a new lover. However I've always dreamed of being a father. It took me 3 years after my wife's passing to finally register with the adoption agency. And after that it's took me 2 and a half years till now to be standing here. Waiting to pick up my child. I walk up to the building with Michael and head to the register desk. We are detected to room EH32. Where we are in a waiting room with a few other family's. Michael and I sit down and they room is deathly quit for some reason. Any body who spoke to the person next to them would be like they were speaking to the whole room. I sat there fidgeting with my fingers. I just wanted to get up and see baby. I keen forward and rest my face in my hands. A woman across from us smiled at me and I politely smiled back. "First child?" She said sweetly. "Yes. First one" I say. She smiles and puts her hand in her husbands hand "this one is our 3rd. We are getting a little boy. Do do know what your having?" Everybody in the room is pretending not to be listening, but it's hard not to hear the conversation. "No, I wanted it to be a surprise. All I know is the baby's earth age is early 20s" I say kinda quietly. "That's so sweet! And such a good earth age. Ours is nearly 40 bless him" she squeezes her husbands hand and he kisses her on the lips. Both clearly really excited to be picking up there new baby. "We both wish you both a life time of happiness with your new born" she smiles. Me and Michael instantly look at each other and back at the woman. "No no no!.. we're not together! He's my brother!" Michael says practically jumping off his seat. The whole rooms starts to laugh and the woman now embarrassed, covers her mouth with her hands. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I smile but roll my eyes. "Don't worry, to be honest I can see why you'd think that" I do at nervous laugh at the end. "So, I've he's your brother, where's your wife?" The woman is starting to annoy me now. "She died".. I say matter of factly. The room stops looking at us and tries to look somewhere other than me. The woman looks down but still keeps talking. "I'm sorry. So who else will be looking after the baby?" I'm about to say something rude when a nurse walks in and calls out my name. "Mr Jonathan Jones? Would you like to meet your little girl?" All my blood falls from my face and I can feel my heart thudding in my chest. A girl? I have a baby girl.. The nurse just stands there patently and smiles. Michael pats my back again "congratulations daddy" he says joyfully. The nurse steps aside and keeps the door open for me as she lets me walk out the room. As I do I look down at the nosy woman "and since you are so keen to know, I'm going to be a single parent." The woman looks down and her husband is giving her a disapproval look. "I'll stay here bro, you go meet her" Michael says. I walk out and follow the nurse down the hall, it feel like a mile long. She suddenly slows down and I'm shown to a large window. On the other side are all these babies in there cribs. All of them are crying or sleeping. "Which one is she?" I ask the nurse. I points with her finger the direction I should be looking in. "Second row, 4th one along" .. I see her. She's still asleep. I see my daughter. I start crying. Probably harder than the babies. But there tears of joy. I'm so happy. I can't stop staring at her. She's so tiny. My baby girl. As I stand I see her stirring in her little crib. I stand to attention and just watch her. She opens her eyes and sneezes. It's the cutest thing I ever seen. I even hear some of the other new parents around me say "awe" or "aw that baby just sneezed, so cute" my girls not crying, if anything she very curious. She looking around her. She looks scared. I'd do anything to go in there right now and hold her. She then looks up and sees all the people in the glass window. She is definitely a curious little girl. She then sees me. My heart clenches and I feel tears in my eye. Hello my angle, I think. She's beautiful. She's perfect. I then feel a strong hand on my neck and a pat on my back. "You okay daddy!?" Michael laughs. I laugh too. "Yeah I'm fine, great" I smile. "So which one is she?" I point to her " second row, third one along, the only one that's not crying" I say proudly "wow! Great start I say!" He laughs with me. "Yup! And now it's just time to get her home
  24. The Baby Doll

    Ch. 1 Lindsay was frustrated. She had scoured the internet searching for a birthday present for her friend Allan, yet nothing she found was the right gift. He simply wasn’t interested in the latest technologies and trends. They were opposites in that regard, but despite Allan’s old (some might say hipster-esque) sensibilities the two of them always ended up at the same bar with their group of friends on the weekend. With time running out and technology failing her, Lindsay finally decided to check out someplace befitting Allan’s style: an antique store. The business itself seemed to be antique. It was just a half block down the street from her apartment, but barely had a sign advertising its purpose. Lindsay had only just noticed it when she first moved in, its nondescript appearance never catching her attention as she walked past it every day. She had googled it trying to find out when they were open, but couldn’t find so much as a yelp review. So it was with plenty of other, better advertised stores saved on her phone when she set out from her building. Still, with the cold weather deterring any unnecessary travel, she decided to see if the place close by was actually still in business. Much to her delight, the black door and faded windows of the store greeted her with an “open” sign, placed quietly in a low corner. With cold wind rushing in behind her, a small bell clanged as she stepped off the street. The store was actually a bit bigger than she would have guessed. Rows of shelving held all manner of old knick knacks, china plates, and books. The dim lighting was enough to reveal there were no other customers in house, and from the initial look of things, no employees either. “Hello?” she called out uncertainly. Suddenly a small old man appeared from behind a shelf. He wore a faded green sweater, his frail and thin looking body looking like it needed every bit of help to keep him warm. He held a steaming cup of tea, the tag from the bag still hanging from the mug. He began stirring his brew as he looked towards the front, a little clanking of the spoon announcing his presence. “Come in out of the cold!” he cheerfully called to Lindsay. His small blue eyes met her own with a friendly and warm shine. White stubble lined his face, which had formed a pleasant smile. “Hi there,” Lindsay announced as she began to take off her wool gloves. “I’m glad you are open today.” “We’re open most every day! At least to those who bother to look,” he said with a chuckle. “Just browsing, or can I help you find anything today?” Lindsay took a second before explaining her situation. The old man seemed to get a kick out of her description of Allan as an “old soul”. “Tell you what, I’ve got a box of old Vinyl albums in the back room. There might be something in there he would like.” Lindsay almost laughed as she remembered Allan proudly showing off his new purchase of a record player to their group in his apartment. As the old man walked to the back room, Lindsay started to browse. She didn’t see how anyone could be interested in these old things. There was some fine china, she acknowledged, but most of it wasn’t for her at all. She liked new and useful, not old and nostalgic. Walking through the rows she sent a snap of an antique porcelain cat with the caption “Crazy cat lady starter pack” before moving towards the register counter to wait on the old owner. She leaned against the counter and started browsing on her phone when out of the corner of her eye she noticed a row of dolls on the shelf behind the counter. She like every little girl had played with dolls growing up, but those had all eventually found their way into the attic. Now that she had something in front of her to compare them to, she couldn’t even recall what hers had looked like. She put down her phone and purse and looked at the shelf. They were strangely intriguing, despite their being not much special about them. To be honest, they looked a little out of place considering they were in good condition, even looking kind of new. She looked toward the back, wondering where the old man had gone. It seemed those records were hidden pretty far in the back. Lindsay walked around the counter to get a closer look at these dolls. They were all girl dolls, with their features resembling children and babies. One had black hair and a Victorian style dress, its brown eyes staring out in front. The next one wore a diaper and a pink shirt, its blonde hair put into pig tails. The blue eyes were half closed behind realistic eyelashes. Lindsay thought that she would certainly have chosen this one, given that it would have looked the most like herself as a child. She felt a strong desire suddenly to touch it, to feel its realistic rubber skin. She drew a painted nail towards it, inching closer to feel its cheek. SLAM! Lindsay spun around with a shock. The old man had dumped a box of records onto the counter behind her. She hadn’t even heard him come up from the back. “Oh I’m sorry to frighten you!” The old man say with remorse. “No it’s no problem!” Lindsay said with a laugh. “I was just looking at the…” she started to point behind her but then gave a little shake to her head. “So these are the records?” The old man had a curious little smile on his face as he looked at her. “Ah, admiring my dolls are you?” With a slight blush Lindsay nodded in the affirmative. The old man walked around the counter to join her. “Yes, my customers always seem to find something…special when they come in here. There’s always something or another that intrigues them.” “No I don’t even know why I was looking at them, I don’t have any nieces…certainly no kids. So are there any 70s rock albums in here, by chance?” The little old man didn’t look toward the record box, however. He kept his eyes fixed on Lindsay, seeming to study her a bit more. Her long, dirty blond hair pushed out from under her hat, and even under her jacket and clothes her attractive frame was obvious. She was taller than him, not hard to do, but still she was taller than the average girl. She gave a nervous chuckle then broke his eye contact, looking at the floor. The old man shifted towards the shelf. “I’ll bet,” he said as he reached toward the shelf, “that you were most interested in this one.” Looking back up Lindsay was surprised to see he had picked up the little blonde baby doll. He held it out in front of her, open so that she could see it again. She stared at it, seemingly captivated by its eyes. With a low voice just above a whisper she said, “Yes.” The old man smiled before he offered it to her. “Go on, you can hold it.” Lindsay had no idea why she was so interested in the doll, but she wasn’t thinking about that. She just wanted to feel its skin. To touch the soft quality made diaper. She slowly gripped the doll, taking it for her own. It felt strangely familiar, triggering deep memories almost, but no one in particular came to mind. Simply put, it was just a comfort. She held it close to her chest, not like one would hold a baby, but like a girl would hold her favorite doll. “Oh yes,” the owner stated softly. “I think that doll suits you well.” Lindsay barely heard him as she allowed a few moments to pass. Then she relaxed her grip before looking back up at him. “The…the um…” Lindsay struggled to remember why she was here. “Records?” the man asked gently. “Yes,” Lindsay said coming to her senses. “Do you have any ro-“ “I think I’ve got a couple of the bands your friend is sure to like.” With that, he pulled a few dusty originals out of the box. As it turned out, the old man had a few of Allan’s favorites, and the prices on them were surprisingly very cheap! Lindsay officially had no idea how this shop was still in business, but she knew she was getting Allan a great deal. After purchasing them Lindsay put on her gloves and began marching to the door with the records in hand. She was halfway there before she stopped and remembered the doll pressed against her body by the crook of her arm. She turned around, taking the doll and offering it back towards the counter. “I’m so sorry, how mu-“ The old man simply put up his hands to her. “That one is yours. It’s been sitting on that shelf looking for an owner for far too long as it is. I hope it brings you plenty of joy.” Lindsay was a bit embarrassed, but she also couldn’t deny her fascination with the doll. With a bit of a blush and an awkward smile she turned around, the little bell clanging as she exited the shop.