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This roleplay is about when Perry the platypus is forced into a diaper by the Nanny-Inator in the episode the Baljeatles originally he escapes by wetting his diaper but this time he actually gets caught and gets his diaper changed and trapped more so Perry must escape the Nursery a different way while the Nanny-Inator watches him and treats him more and more like a baby, full diaper usage is allowed if wanted to, and we can go over any other rules and add things if you want to you can choose to be the Nanny-Inator, or Perry the platypus

Here's a new story inspired by Cya's story, Not Worth It. Hope you like it. ?? Chi-Chi walked over to Capsule Corp. She wished she had an excuse not to, but between still having the Flying Nimbus and Goku leaving with Shenron after the fight with Omega Shenron, she honestly had nothing better to do. Chi-Chi signed sadly. Both her sons had grown up, and her granddaughter, Pan, had just finished her freshman year at Orange Star High. She never felt lonelier, despite living next door to Gohan and Videl. So she was reluctantly happy to be called over by Bulma. Her old friend greeted her happily as she entered the building. Bulma's hair had grown out, being done up in a ponytail, and she wasn't wearing lipstick. She also wore a blue shirt with gray pants. "Glad you could make it!" Bulma said earnestly. "Come with me." The two walked to the far end of the lab as Chi-Chi looked at Bulma. "You know," Chi-Chi began. "Goku was right. You do look younger without lipstick." "Good to know." Bulma said, half sarcastically. "Look, I asked you here to try out a new invention with me." "Um," Chi-Chi asked nervously as Bulma led her into a room and locked the door behind them. "What kind of invention?" "Well," Bulma began. "Ever since I had Bulla, I got the idea in my head to make automated child care products. The initial nursery worked good, so I decided to branch out." "So what do you need me for?" Chi-Chi asked, already guessing the answer. "I need you to help me test my new inventions out." Bulma said eagerly. "Oh no!" Chi-Chi said flatly. "I'm not letting myself be manhandled while you sit behind a control panel!" "Actually, I'd be going in with you." Bulma explained. "Huh?" Chi-Chi asked, shocked at Bulma's confidence. "Do you know how boring it's been since Goku left?" Bulma argued. "I don't know." Chi-Chi said. "I'll pay you ten million zeni." Bulma said quickly. "Now I am." Chi-Chi said quickly. "Great!" Bulma said. "Don't worry about anyone catching us. Only a voice command from me can open the door." "Okay." Chi-Chi sighed. "What first?" "Those turnstiles will get us ready." Bulma explained. "Just pick one and walk through." Chi-Chi went through the one right in front of her as she realized she was on some kind of treadmill. As she was forced to continue in a circle, she felt her dress get removed, leaving only the green shirt she'd been wearing underneath it. She then sneezed as she felt talcum powder being rained down on her. Next, her panties were removed, and she felt a thick cloth get wrapped around her waist while she heard safety pins being opened before feeling a slight shiver as cold metal brushed against her thighs. Finally, she felt something get tied onto her head before the belt finally stopped, and she found herself on the other side of the door. Seeing a mirror, she realized that she was wearing a cloth diaper like she used to use on Gohan and Goten. She was also wearing a purple baby bonnet. She then saw Bulma emerge with a cloth diaper instead of her pants and a pink baby bonnet. "So, ready to go?" Bulma asked. "That's seriously something you're gonna sell?" Chi-Chi asked, pointing at the turnstile. "Oh no." Bulma said. "That's just to get us ready. The powder in there's designed to cloud the sensors of all the devices in here, or else the machines would know we're not babies." "Oh." Chi-Chi said, a little concerned. "Don't worry." Bulma said. "It wears off in two hours. Let's go." Chi-Chi shrugged as she followed Bulma through a maze of contraptions. To be continued...

Ryoko was fuming as she walked to Washu's lab. Nine months of carrying Tenchi's baby girl, Rika, and Washu had the nerve to send her and Tenchi to Jurai, allegedly to meet Funaho, and ask her to come have a "class" on child reering. To make matters worse, Ryoko was doing this with Ayeka, who had also had a baby with Tenchi, Achika, but at least Misaki will have a ball playing with the babies. She saw Ayeka and groaned. "Look," Ryoko said as Ayeka glared at her. "We just have to stomach whatever Washu's planned for us and go back to normal once Tenchi comes back with the kids." "All right." Ayeka sighed. "For Tenchi and the girls." "For Tenchi and the girls." Ryoko agreed. Ryoko opened the door, and they headed into Washu's lab. As they entered the garden, they saw Washu at her computer as usual before she stood up, smiling. "Now then ladies," Washu said enthusiastically. "What we're going to do is teach you two about raising children by example." "So what?" Ryoko asked. "You're gonna have us care for dolls?" "No." Washu said with a familiar smirk. "I'm going to show you what being a helpless little infant is like." "Well," Ayeka said smugly. "Ryoko surely needs such extreme measures, but I don't!" "Ha!" Washu shouted. "Yeah, right." Washu pushed a button on her computer, and the two were grabbed by various mechanical arms. The arms brought the two to Washu's proper lab and hovered over a dark cube. "This will teach you how easy it is for a baby to be shaken up." Washu explained. Ryoko was then dropped into the cube as it lit up for Ayeka to see a gaggle of mechanical arms. Ryoko groaned as she felt herself moving backwards before she looked behind her to see a buzzsaw. She ran for dear life but didn't get any further as she realized that she was on a conveyor belt. She saw Washu on a screen and smirked and pulled a lever as a boxing glove hit Ryoko in the gut and knocking her into the saw. Ryoko screamed and leapt up as Ayeka was dropped down. Ryoko slammed her head into a winch that shoved her into a high chair with a hole in the bottom that left her butt sticking out. The tray then snapped into place, trapping Ryoko in the chair. A pair of clippers then came up and shaved Ryoko bald. "You bitch!!" Ryoko shrieked, not caring that she could regrow her hair once she gets a minute. A rack of rolling pins then come up and hit Ryoko in the head to the tune of "Pioneer". The chair then pulled Ryoko over to a rack of boots that kick her in the butt to the same tune. Eventually, the tray released just as the last boot kicked Ryoko away. While all of this was happening to Ryoko, Ayeka was crawling on the belt to avoid a paddle wheel that had replaced the buzzsaw, thankfully. Again, Washu pulled the lever, but this time, two mechanical arms held Ayeka down as the paddles continually spanks her until Ryoko was kicked out of the high chair, and the arms tossed Ayeka upwards. After Ryoko was flung out of the chair, she landed head first into a hole as her neck was clamped in place while a pair of boxing gloves began punching her in the face and the back of her head. While Ryoko was being punched, Ayeka slammed into the winch which pushed her into the chair before Ayeka was clamped in place by the tray and shaved bald. "I beg your pardon!" Ayeka shouted. "Just what is the meaning of this, Washu?" "To have less cushioning." Washu explained. "For what?!" Ayeka asked. The rack of rolling pins then came down and hit Ayeka in the head until she began drooling from all the head trauma. Ayeka was then moved to the boots and kicked in the butt, making her start crying. "MAMA!!!" Ayeka shrieked. After Ryoko's second beating, the clamp was released, and a pair of arms came down and picked Ryoko up and lifted her to a barrel of yellow liquid. Ryoko was then stripped naked and dunked into the barrel several times before she was lifted out. She suddenly realized that she felt much weaker. She wiggled her legs and was relieved that she could still move, though she was still not liking losing her strength. Once Ryoko was lifted out of the hole, Ayeka was kicked into it. She was then clamped in place, and the boxing gloves began punching her in the face and the back of the head. After Ryoko was dipped in the liquid, the arms brought her to a table that had folded out, and she was placed on it with the arms holding her firmly in place. Another pair of arms came up and lifted her legs up before setting a cloth diaper down. She tried to struggle, but in her weakened state, the arms didn't budge. She then got her butt liberally sprinkled with baby powder, and the diaper was folded around her crotch before it was held in place with a safety pin. Ayeka, meanwhile, was crying worse than ever as she was picked up by the arms, stripped naked, and dunked into the barrel of yellow liquid, with her swallowing a good deal of it. The liquid rendered Ayeka barely able to move as she finally began calming down. Ryoko was finally brought to a crib and set into it as she got a blue baby bonnet with pink frills tied onto her head. Ayeka was being powered and diapered as this was going on, with Ryoko watching as she grew her hair back. However, it did nothing to loosen the bonnet. Ayeka was placed in a crib next to Ryoko and given a purple baby bonnet with blue frills as she grabbed the rails of her crib and pulled herself up to stand unsteadily next to her. The cribs began to rise out of the cube, and Ayeka shrieked, grabbing Ryoko's hair and making her call out, making Ayeka giggle before Ryoko slapped her diapered butt, making Ayeka whimper before they were brought to Washu's screen. "Well let's see what we've learned." Washu said as she snapped her fingers, and Ayeka's brain trauma was fixed. "Big deal." Ryoko groaned. "Babies are sensitive! We knew that." "And I didn't appweciate being hit on the head so much!" Ayeka shouted before gasping. "My voice!" "That'll be the numbing agent to make sure neither of you break anything." Washu explained. "As for the head hitting, think how bad it'd be if one of you lost your temper and hit one of the girls." The two groaned, knowing she was right. "Now," Washu said. "The rest of the lessons are hidden throughout this part of the lab." The arms deposited Ryoko and Ayeka on the floor. "Look around and have fun." Washu said with a smirk. "They aren't all torturous." To be continued...

"Please keep your hands and feet within the safe zone at all times.” Kailey stepped onto the slowly moving rubber platform, letting it convey her forward. Her heart fluttered as she extended her arms out in a T, allowing the machine to scan her in. Moving at about two feet per second, the machine rolled her forward, underneath a few dozen foot-wide rubber flaps that flopped over her body, till she was inside the changing machine. Mechanical servos extended, undoing buttons with machine precision, until her pants simply fell off her body and bunched around her ankles. A suction cup pulled against the back of her shirt until it came away, another arm released the clip on her bra, and similar cups pulled to her sandals, so that they’d be fixed to the floor. She held her breath and waited; this next part was her favorite. A large cylinder dropped down from above her, and with an incredible WHOOSH, she found herself pulled upward, the sheer section pulling her feet out of her sandals and sending her up, to a different part of the line. The force of the air moving buffeted her panties until they fell away as well, along with her bra, leaving her totally naked as the machine dropped her into a large basin of soapy water, slowly agitating in a circle, water jets blasting so that the soapy water pulled away the grime and dirt of a day’s work. She reclined into the tub, letting the agitated water do its work, cleaning her body thoroughly. Not a bit of sweat or grime would make it to the next step. She soaked, until the water began to drain, pulling her down towards the stopper. Knowing what came next, she put a hand to her nose, took a deep breath, and dropped down the chute. The slide pulled her down, rinsed the soap off her body, and deposited her onto another belt–this one lined with a fluffy fabric not unlike a bath towel. She lay there as an enormous blower began blasting her body, drying her off with warm-but-not-hot air that breezed over her, now clean and dry and ready to be dressed. She loved the dressing. Lying totally still, she waited for the conveyer to turn to shift, turning to two belts. A diaper slid forward, unfolded and ready for her, and an automatic folding mechanism and two rollers lifted it up so that the padding conformed to her body. From the side, two more rollers pushed forward, sticking the tapes down, leaving her diaper snugly attached over her body. The conveyer took on a slope, tilting forward, further and further, until it dropped her into a waiting onesie, unfolded and stretched open to accept her body. While the buttons were done up, the arm holding the onesie lowered her down, setting her in front of a screen. She stared into the image, a spiral accompanied by soothing audio. “You are a baby. Relax, and let your mind drift. You are a baby…” Kailey let the zen mindset fill her, looked into the spiral till she could see nothing else, and then– The floor dropped out from beneath her, and she dropped into a pile of stuffies that broke her fall. Landing in a heap, she sat up, looking about the playpen she’d been left in. Across the room, sitting on a couch and watching TV, her girlfriend glanced up. “Hey, Kailey. How’s your day been?” Kailey smiled. It was good to be home. ... Fun fact: You can help support the creation of more short stories like this! I wrote this as a special bonus for hitting 200 subscribers on Patreon. Writing kinky fiction is something I love, but my patrons make it possible for me to write far more than I ever could if I didn't have financial support - and you can be one of those lovely people! Patreon SubscribeStar

In this story, Pudding and I stepped outside our comfort zone into a second person, present tense narrative about a topic we've never explored before. It's also the first story we've done together without using color! It was scary and challenging, but we came out the other side with a great little short story. I think this whole experience has really broadened our ability and made us better writers. I'd really like to say thank you to the person who commissioned this piece for providing us an opportunity to learn and grow. And thank you for believing in us. Please consider supporting us on Patreon! We also take on commissions! ~Sophie ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Change Inc. By Sophie & Pudding *Commissioned by Anonymous You can’t believe your luck - only yesterday it had seemed like the world was going to end, with your athletic scholarship pulled. Your bank account is not doing so great on account of your reckless lifestyle and frequent partying. You need a miracle, a miracle like the flier in your hand that promises two semesters worth of tuition in exchange for a 24 hour test program for a robotics firm. You look at the paper in your hand, then up at the building off-campus marked with ‘Change Inc.' in colorful letters made of baby blocks on the wall. What a weird place. It wasn't as though you cared, though. You barely listen at all through the orientation process, you certainly don’t read the contract, and all you can think about is the busty older woman who talks you through it. Damn her titties are fine! What you wouldn't give to get a taste of those! "Right this way." She intones with a sickly smile on her painted lips, pushing open a door to a room that looked completely empty, then sealing you inside with a click. The room around you is white and plain, with a metallic sheen. A bright red light above the door is the only ounce of color, but it then switches to green. Holes in the ceiling open up and thin, long robotic arms reach down and wrap around your wrists before you can think to act. "Hey!" you shout. "What's going on?!" Two more arms grab onto your ankles and suddenly you feel your entire weight pulled up off the floor. You've never felt like this before. Something about the way the arms hold you makes you feel weightless and helpless. "HEY! Something's wrong in here!" Your voice is hoarse from calling out at the top of your lungs, but it's all for nothing. Despite your yelling, more arms appear and start undressing you in the worst possible way. "Those are my good jeans, don't..." You struggle and tug and pull. “Don’t cut them up!" If the arms have ears they're not listening. Soon all your clothes - except for your lucky red undies - are in ribbons on the floor. Then before you can complain, a floor panel flips over and sucks the pieces away. "What is this place?! I changed my mind!" But your mind isn't what the room has in mind when it comes to changing. A panel in the ceiling opens and a new robotic arm appears, holding in its grasp a thick, white square of plastic. Carefully, deliberately, the arms reveal the item in front of your face, peeling open the wings and exposing the soft padded crotch of the diaper. A very large diaper. Your mind races. No matter how hard you struggle, you are incapable of fighting off the cuffs on your wrists and ankles, holding you high in the air. "No," you mumble, "This isn't happening!" But your fears are realized as two more arms slide the red briefs down your legs and pull the diaper up in its place. A soft puff of air sprays white powder all over your cock before the arms pull open the tapes and fasten the diaper tight around your hips. The chime of a bell rings all around you. You struggle with the restraints, and a voice speaks from above. "Does baby need a change?" Humiliatingly, one of the arms with an oversized hand reaches down behind you and pats your diaper, hefting it against you, checking if you need to be changed. "I'm not a fucking baby you fucking weirdos! Lemme out!" An arm extends down and shines a red beam over your chest and stomach, like some kind of scanner, and you begin to feel some very real bodily needs. Desperately. Urgently. Like you won't even be able to hold it. What did they do to me, you think. You didn't need to go even ten seconds ago! "HEY! Lemme go, I gotta use the toilet!” The feelings are so familiar, but so sudden. The red scanner disappears into the ceiling, but the sensations do not. As the metal arms slowly lower you, the cuffs on your ankles and wrists stick to the floor, leaving you pinned and helpless as the feelings grow worse. Then the floor starts to rise into a large table, as if you were on display. Suddenly, you start to wonder if... if maybe you are on display? You frantically look around the cold white room, but the only thing you see is a hatch above opening up and a bottle lowering to your lips. You turn your head to fight it, but small arms sprout from the table near your head and hold it still until the nipple penetrates your lips. No matter what you do, you're immobile, naked but for a diaper, and drinking formula from a baby bottle. "Administering Formula #1822.” Or at least that's what you think you hear, but the liquid between your lips tastes strangely sweet and very relaxing. You drink, sucking hungrily on the bottle between your lips in a temporary daze. But halfway through the bottle you realize something is amiss. You're naked, you know that. You're in a diaper, you know that. The diaper is slowly getting warm, and wet, and... oh no! You can't be!? You're wetting yourself?! You try to stop, try to stymie the flood into your pristine white diaper, but no matter how much you panic and struggle against the strange new feelings, the formula seems to keep you from getting too riled up. You're not a baby! But the bottle stays firmly in place, even as your stomach grumbles unhappily. You need to find a way out of here… Once the bottle is empty, the arm takes it away, back into the ceiling. The warm, soggy diaper between your legs constantly reminds you of what you've done. The feelings in your stomach remind you what could happen next. No matter what you say, no matter how you struggle, nothing works. You're... you're scared. "Please let me out," you say, as tears start forming in your eyes. You don't understand why anyone would do this to you! Then another tight feeling rushes through your stomach and you whimper in pain. You shake your head to fight it off, but your body reacts in spite of you. Suddenly, unexpectedly, you start to push the mess into the seat of your diaper. No matter what you do, you can't stop yourself. There's no way you're pooping your diaper, you tell yourself. It’s not possible! Though as it happens, you're held down against the table, making it impossible to ignore; the way the thick mess squishes up and down your behind, between your legs. To make matters worse, the arms start to sit you up and gently bounce you up and down on the changing table. Why are they doing this to you?! How can this possibly be science?! Tears drip down your cheeks and you squeal out as you feel something hit your back. A hand - a robotic hand - patting you on the back, over and over. What the heck is it doing, you wonder. You're being bounced in a messy diaper, held in place, and being patted on the back like a baby. As you cry and whimper, the room reacts. It begins to play soothing music. Sounds of a woman's voice shushes you, saying things like "there, there" and "no need to cry". You can hardly believe you’re crying. No different than an actual baby, you think. But as the hand pats your back for the tenth time, still bouncing you softly on the table, a burp escapes your lips and the taste of formula fills your mouth. "There we go," the room says to you. "I bet you feel much better now." But you do not feel better at all. You want to go home, you want to leave this awful place! How long has it been? Hours? Days? In the back of your mind, though, you know it hasn’t been even an hour. Something is pushed between your lips, thick and rubbery, and it tastes like the formula. You suck on it out of newly given instinct, and you only realize it’s a pacifier as you are laid once more on the table. You're an adult man, naked but for a diaper, a thick, puffy, soaking wet and stinky messy diaper, sucking on a pacifier for anybody to see. You don't know how this can get worse! But then you feel something pressed against your stiffness in the front of your diaper, something semi-firm, and then a buzzing hum fills the empty room and vibrations are sent through your padding to your cock. Intense vibrations like you've never felt before. No no no! You are NOT getting off to this! "You are a very good boy," the room says to you in its warm, maternal voice. "A very good little boy. Relax now. Do not worry. You are safe and cared for and loved." You struggle against the cuffs, but any gesture or movement only reminds you of the state of your diaper. Tears drip down your cheeks. The buzzing sound permeates the room and you feel a warm pressure on the outside of your diaper. Rubbing down, between your legs, against your mess, and up to the yellowed front, along the length of your cock. As it moves, you shiver. Your body trembles. Your even breathing breaks. The room learns from your reactions and moves to please you better. All the while, the voice never quiets. "You are a good little boy. Relax. Let me make it all better." You want to spit out the pacifier. You want to tear the humiliation away from your waist. You want to leave more than anything. Your head swims and drowns and you suck on your pacifier, you suck and suck and suck. Your movements remain strong, but your struggles fade away, instead focusing your energy on moving against the vibrations, gyrating your hips to feel more of it. You're lost in yourself, lost in the moment, lost in the pleasure. The voice talks to you and you listen, eagerly licking up the words with your brain: you're a good boy, you're a baby, you deserve a reward, you should drink your formula, you should behave, you should enjoy your diapers, you should wet them, you should feel childish, you should associate this all with feeling good, you should mess yourself and be proud, proud of being a baby. You whimper and moan and your cock erupts in your diaper, soaking the already sodden padding with thick ropes of cum that have nowhere else to go but to press against your skin. Your breathing is ragged. Your heart, racing. You can't believe it. You are a grown man! You're in college! You are not a baby, and you not only have wet and messed yourself in the past hour alone, but the voice had convinced you to cum into a diaper. In your post-orgasmic haze, you thrash and kick on the table, furious and ashamed. But you're too weak. Weak and exhausted. You feel your body limply slip to the table and a program from earlier repeats itself. "Does baby need a change?" The robotic hand pushes roughly against the seat of your diaper, reminding you again that you are helpless here. "Oh! Yes, you do!" The metal hands move to the tapes of the diaper and peel them off. You struggle, but each moment of resistance feels harder and harder, and soon enough you're thrashing about with only the strength of an infant and the restraints have no problems at all holding you in place. The voice narrates, and your mind feels like it’s shrinking with each word. "There's a good little boy, let's see just how full your diaper is." The hands pull the diaper down and the thick smell fills the room: the smell of baby powder, baby pee, and baby mess, because you're a baby now. "Oh what a big mess for such a little baby! Don't you worry, baby boy, you'll be in a fresh clean diaper soon enough, won't that be nice?" You nod. You just want to be changed, you don't even care if it’s into another diaper. You can't see what going on, you can barely lift your own head (or your arms, which the machine feels no longer need to be restrained right now, humiliatingly). But you feel your legs lifted enough to raise your bottom, and you feel the soft warmth of a wet cloth cleaning you up. "Baby Boy made such a mess! All squished around, you must love your messy diapers, don't you baby boy? You love your messy diapers. We'll make sure to get you cleaned up and apply thick cream and lotion so you don't get a rash from now on." From now on... like you'll ever do this again... "You're a baby now, after all, you can't ever be an adult after doing that." Your cheeks flush red, and your cock stirs. Stupid voice, you think. What does it know... The room dresses you in the same kind of diaper as before, white and thick and crinkly. You smell like fresh baby powder, rather than a messy infant. Matching white mittens are pulled down over your bare fists and cuffed into place around your wrists, just as walls come up around you and the table is transformed again - this time into a crib too high for you to climb out of. The restraints disappear into the table and you are free. Free to wander around the small crib, anyway. Immediately, you tug at the diaper with your thick mittened hands, but the satin slips off the plastic tapes. The lights dim around you and lullaby music begins to play. The room starts to feel warmer and more comfortable. Even the metal table feels nice on your skin. You want to shout, you want to be let out, let up. But you can't talk with the pacifier in your mouth, and your confused little mind doesn't even think about the fact you could just spit it out. You try to stand up, but your legs wobble a little, and the top of the crib walls are so high. This whole room seems so much bigger than it was, and you know that shouldn't be possible. Which means you must have gotten smaller, but you know that's even less possible. That the room had expanded as the crib grew around you. You feel so small. You drop down on your padded butt on the bed, listening to the music play. You focus, sucking on your binkie. Gosh you're sleepy, though. You lay down, noticing for the first time a fluffy teddy bear adjacent to a pillow. You feel alone enough to hold the bear in your mittened hands, and before you know it you're asleep. You think, maybe, it was a bad dream, but when you wake up, the white room, the robotic arms, and the warm maternal voice are there to greet you. Your diaper is unexpectedly wet, but the room does not admonish you. After all, you are just a baby boy. A tub of warm water appears in the far corner and after stripping you of another wet diaper, you are placed in the warm water for cleaning. Though the mittens stay firmly on your hands, you kick and struggle against every action the room makes. You don't want to be bathed! You don't want to be carried! You are a grown man! But the room is quickly fed up with you. It lifts you high in the air, bends you at the waist in its many robotic arms, and spanks your bare, wet bottom. "You are acting so stubborn, baby boy. Be good." It hurts much more than you could ever have anticipated, not only on bare skin, but when it’s soaking wet, too?! Each smack aches, like you're being beaten with a metal spatula, and the feeling of heat from your ass after thirty firm smacks tells you that your skin is red raw. And you're crying, crying because you're just a baby boy. You wail and cry even worse when you're put back in the soapy water and your abused bottom has to feel the warm water against it. You sob and sulk and suck on the binkie pushed firmly between your lips. The hands soap you up, rubbing lotion over your skin that tingles and burns, rubbing shampoo in your hair that smells awful. You offer no resistance when toys are dropped in the bath to be played with - you just don't want to be hurt anymore, you want to be a good boy! When the water drains, your body hair drains away with it. ”You're such a good baby boy, aren't you?" You nod without a second thought. All you can do is nod. Fighting this isn't going to stop it. You pissed yourself. You shit yourself. You orgasmed into a diaper. Maybe you are just a baby boy… Twenty four hours felt like a week. The longest week of your life. You step out onto the sidewalk, wearing clothes you thought had been torn up. You look up at the huge sign above you. Change Inc. Then you turn your attention to the woman in the doorway, who invited you in only yesterday. She knows what happened to you, and you can hardly make eye contact. You hold the envelope tight in your hands - enough money to pay for the next two semesters of college. You had earned it. You had given up so much in that room... "If you're ever in need of more money," the woman says to you with that bright smile, her large breasts impossible to ignore, "you are always welcome back." She closes the door and leaves you alone on the street corner, with nothing but a wad of cash and an erection in your favorite red briefs.