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The Struggle


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2 hours ago, Personalias said:

So, I am normally not one...or didn't used to be...one of those people who self-indulged with the telling of the "how I thought of it" story.  But I'm gonna have to write an afterward for this particular story.

What do you mean by "An afterward"

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2 hours ago, DiaperBoy37 said:

 What do you mean by "An afterward"

That part where the writer talks specifically about themselves and the stuff that was involved in the story ya'll just read.  Cuz I think there's kind of a semi-interesting story behind the story for this one.

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A Meeting of the Minds

 

The stilted, overenunciated voice of the speak-n-say went “The cow goes…mooooooooo.”  Security Chief Fullerton, clapped his hands and giggled in reply, his pupils dilated, his attention completely focused on the spinning arrow on the wheel that had been placed on his desk.  The man’s arm went and pulled the lever, so that the machine could tell him that “The cat goes…meeeeow”.  His attention never flagging, his focus never wavering; his own eyes glued to the toddler toy as if it were a Vegas slot machine about to pay out.   No alarms would be sounded; not by him, anyways.  Jamie walked by her employee, a smug smile behind her surgical facemask and sunglasses, still clad in her pink pajama bottoms and top; though this time there was something decidedly bulky underneath them.

Fullerton’s eyes, in many respects, were a mirror of Jamie’s: intent, and full of concentration, just looking to see what the next spin would reveal; gambler’s eyes.  Jamie took out her own compact computer and entered a few numbers into the fate formula algorithm; allowing the super processor to calculate her odds of success based on the new data.  She was rewarded with the familiar, reassuring “ping”.

“The dog says…woof…woof.”

Inadvertently, Jack had proved a point to Jamie- though perhaps not the point he’d intended. Many of her inventions may have been incomplete, shoddy, or downright dangerous for the purpose of slipping baby boys into a permanently regressed headspace; but they had amazing potential as non-lethal (if unconventional) weapons.  Case in point: The speak-n-say.  The design on the whirling arrow was meant to capture the eye and draw the user into a kind of fugue state, causing them to be more susceptible to suggestion. The fact that it was coming from a toy aimed at children two and under was a suggestion in of itself.   The speak-n-say had given her other-self, the Jamie of this technologically backwards world, a feeling of control over her own regression; a kind of emotional safety net.

Unfortunately, the effects were indiscriminate- Jamie had found that out the hard way when she woke up to a wet bed several days in a row – and sadly, for its initial intended purpose, temporary. Fortunately, she only needed temporary incapacitation right now, and she only needed to not look at her own petard to prevent herself being hoisted by it.

Diaper bag slung over her shoulder, filled with failed and repurposed inventions, Jamie made her way towards the door that read “No Employees Past this Point.”  Digging into the bag, Jamie was careful to take a pair of earplugs and place them over her eardrums before digging in and removing a pink, plastic rattle, and a bottle of baby powder.  Having to break into her own building; if only that were the lowest point in her life up to this point.

The brilliant yet twisted inventor went up several flights of stairs, taking great care to stay within the blind spots of her myriad of security cameras, as she thumbed in each individual step into her handheld god-machine, pink baby rattle dangling from her pinky; before an annoying buzz alerted her.   “Damnit,” she cursed, looking at the security camera that had just captured her image, its red light blinking furiously.  Apparently, fate, or the General, or Miranda, or Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight, or whatever combination of forces were conspiring against her to make this infinitely harder than she’d hoped it would be.  Then again, Jamie supposed, that’s why she had packed a diaper bag to begin with; not for if things got messy, but for when.

She took a sharp turn out of the stairwell and onto the connected floor; not quite sure of where in her own building she had ended up.  The door swung open before her, revealing a labyrinth of cubicles a mix of bland grays and sickly oranges. The chatter of phones ringing, and voices reading from scripted cards.  The sales department and call center, where she had first spied Jack and decided.  This was fate, pure and simple.   Jamie didn’t need her computer to tell her that much.  Far too much experience in the subject of fate, reality, and karmic irony informed her.  She didn’t need magic and tea leaves (unreliable tools at best) to know that a kind of fearful cosmic symmetry was taking place.

As if in confirmation, the nearby elevator dinged, and Jamie caught a glimpse of Penelope Martin- her Sales Manager- being shoved out of the way as the doors parted and what could only be described as a small platoon of men in uniform flooded out, pushing her aside.  They weren’t in Infinitech security uniforms, however.  Jamie ducked low and with a strange, almost inhuman speed, maneuvered into the maze of cubicles.  At least this confirmed that General Smothers and his friends at the Pentagon were involved.  Not that she was surprised; the thing about fate and its pawns were that they were decidedly predictable.

“Attention everyone!” One of the jackbooted thugs called out.  “Please remain calm.  There’s a fugitive on premise and we’re sweeping the area looking for her.  If you see anyone acting suspiciously, please report it immediately.”

“Shit,” Jamie cursed under her breath.  Being dressed like a three-year-old at a slumber party was decidedly “suspicious”; stealth was her only option, and she wasn’t exactly in the best attire for that, either.

She had not gotten this far, built a technological and financial empire, to let some war hawk turn her into a one-woman adult baby Manhattan project.  Jamie died a little inside; just thinking that had hurt her brain a bit…what a dumb existence she’d been cursed to.  Knowledge was a burden.  The Jamies who didn’t see this kind of stuff coming were the lucky ones.

Left, right, left, right, left, left, right.  Jamie ducked and weaved along the maze of cubicles, keeping her head down.  Her breath caught in her throat as she narrowly missed being spotted by a black clad military grunt.   She practically slithered into the nearest workspace, and bumped right into a random employee.  “Huh,” he dumbly grunted, looking down at her crouching form.

No.  Not a random employee.   She’d seen this one before, he was one of the drones whom Jack had been chatting up on that first day.   How could she forget that ugly, bushy, unkempt, almost Santa-Claus beard?  He opened his mouth to scream; to shout for help.  Stealth was about to no longer be an option.  Time for plan B.

Jack’s old work buddy had been quick to react, but Jack’s former Mommy had been faster.  A flick of the wrist, and squeeze of her palm, and a puff of baby powder flew into his face, eliciting a dry sneeze from her latest victim.  Before he could inhale, the bearded man began wobbling on his feet, a low moan escaping his lips as a crease formed in the front of his pants.  The special baby powder Jamie had invented years ago was kicking in.  “Shhhhh,” Jamie whispered from behind her facemask as she grabbed his hand and guided him to a sitting position on the floor.  Part aphrodisiac, part hallucinogen, and fast-acting to boot, the baby powder that Jamie had concocted years ago had been what Jamie had considered a major milestone in her regression products; pure chemistry; a true work of art.  Sadly, it was deemed a failure, primarily because like the speak-n-say, it was indiscriminate regarding whom it affected; hence the mask.  “It’s okay baby,” Jamie whispered to the stoned man as his bladder let loose and his khakis became stained with urine, “just let it happen.  Good baby.”  Uncomprehending, and stoned out of his gourd, Jack’s bearded friend stuck his tongue out playfully as he continued to pee his pants.  That was the other reason the special powder had been considered a failure: there wasn’t much point in changing a diaper if it was all but guaranteed to be wet again the moment it was taped back on.  There had to be a better way to affect incontinence, she had thought.

Inwardly, Jamie congratulated herself for the nanite solution she’d eventually cooked up.  She’d come a long way since those early days, though a tiny part of her realized that she’d changed much more recently, as well.  No time to dwell on that thought, however.

Stealth wasn’t going to work out at this rate, and she didn’t need the not-so-gentle buzzing from the little gizmo in the palm of her hand.  The slightest rattling from the pink plastic bulb dangling from her pinkie caused Jamie to wince.  Earplugs or not, she had to be careful with this one.  That’s when Jamie got an idea.

“PING!”

A really, really, good idea.

“Huh?” the beard with lips, barely able to comprehend words at this point in his high, questioned as Jamie slipped the rattle carefully into his free hand- his other one absentmindedly pawing through his soaked pants at his erect member.  Jamie grabbed his other wrist, and began to help the poor buffoon masturbate.

“Go ahead, baby boy,” the words, so natural to her by this point in her life, “play.  Have fun.”

“Play…” the drugged man echoed as if truly understanding the meaning of such a word for the first time. Both fists were white knuckled as he began to jerk himself off with one hand, and gently shake the rattle with the other.  Jamie slinked away, but not before squeezing the bottle of lavender scented hallucinogen with both hands up into the air; the white cloud lingering.  Covering her ears for good measure, Jamie snuck back the way she had come as workers in other cubicles looked up from their computers and phones towards the sound of the rattling.  Their heads up above the corporate prison, Jamie’s pursuers followed the odd mixture of confused murmurs, pleasurable groaning, and the hard plastic plinking of the rattle.  Jamie, herself, smiled from behind her sunglasses and mask as the idiotic babbling intensified, with more voices joining the fray.
The rattling intensified, a diamond back readying to strike, giving its enemy one final chance to turn around and walk away before the end.  Due to her earplugs, Vasquez felt more than heard the multiple thumps as soldier’s and office workers collapsed and fell to their knees, their equilibrium thrown off by the special plastic-like alloy that resonated directly within a human’s inner ear; causing extreme vertigo.  A horrible chain reaction began to take place.  Those who fell and cried out, either from confusion or drug induced delight, would attract others who would do more of the same.  No wonder the General feared Jamie and considered her both an asset to be captured and a threat to be neutralized: without even meaning to, she’d weaponized sound, all so that she could have a baby boy of her own who crawled instead of walked.  Jack had been right on that point.  If she had had her priorities straight, Jamie would have been even more rich, famous, and dangerous than she currently was.  Then again, considering all roads wanted to end with her in a onesie, a wet diaper, and likely breast feeding at some stranger’s teat, finding a way to circumvent that definitely took priority.   The young traveler did have her priorities in the proper order.
As she maneuvered back to the elevator.  Jamie felt no particular amount of guilt for the assembled masses predicament.  The effects would wear off…in a few hours.  Among the chaos she’d just created, Jamie was less likely to be spotted, but staying in that throng would do her no good.  She had to get out of there, and into her office, if only so that she could properly get ahold of her more recent and more successful inventions.

How though?  The elevator?  A thirty something man, slender and slight, with a serious case of adult acne was the only one nearby; pressing the call button nervously while constantly looking over his shoulder; a three-legged cat in a room full of angry mutts.  He’d be easy enough to get by, the elevator was essentially a cage.  The stairwell wouldn’t be much better, just more freedom to move, and there was only so much that could be done in such an environment and proceed at a timely pace.

Barring a grappling hook, or suddenly inventing site to site instantaneous transportation using nothing but paperclips, staplers, and Dell computers, those were Jamie’s options.  She took a deep breath, bit her lip and consulted her miracle machine.

Elevator?

“BUZZ”

Stairwell?

“BUZZ”

No matter which of the two routes she could take, she was likely going to end up captured.  Jamie moved to open another flap in the diaper bag.  Looks like it’s just going to be a matter of how many of them are gonna be diapered with me, she thought, bitterly. Then, a novel idea popped into her head…

“PING”

 

A brief car ride.

    “No, you’re not driving,” Shelly said, looking into the rearview mirror.  Jack sat there, buckled into the backseat, his head bobbing up and down as if listening to music only he could here. Beside him, in her special car seat, was her baby girl, giggling at Jack’s obvious drunkenness.  After Jack’s tell-all and self-revelation, he’d requested a few drinks.   Shelly had obliged him, not knowing what a total lightweight the little boy was.   “And that’s final,” she added.

Jack belched. “Okay…” he said.  “But can I at least ride up front, on the way there?  Might be…” he stuttered, “Might be…my last chance…Jamie’s a…a…bi…” he hiccupped, stopping himself from swearing, then continued, “…a stickler for that kind of stuff.”

“Front seat’s not water proofed.” Shelly said, not even looking back.  Jack shifted, and the dry plastic mat that she had insist he sit upon complained.  “If you hold your bladder as poorly as you hold your liquor, I’m not risking it.”

“Oh come on!” Jamie’s baby complained.  “I’m not…” then he went silent.  “Oh fuck me.”

“Language,” Shelly corrected, as she stopped at a red light.  Her little’s giggling and pointing caught her attention.  The Dommy Mommy looked back, and saw the source of Jack’s distress.  The wheel made a sharp right turn into an empty parking lot.  “Thought so…” the older woman sighed, putting the car in park. “Don’t worry, I think I might have something that’ll fit you.”  A Mommy’s work was never done, it seemed.  Shelly hoped that Jamie would appreciate what she was doing for her.

If not, Shelly supposed, she could take this cute little train wreck and train him properly; maybe “adopt” him.  Her little Samantha had taken well enough to him.  First thing was first though, time to get him into something more appropriate given his current condition…

Loathing in an elevator

 

“Jamie”, an eerily identical voice to Infinitech’s founder sang out into the small elevator.  “Jamiiiiie.”  Jamie did not respond.  “I know you’re in there, Jamie.  You might have deactivated the cameras on your end, but I honed onto the energy signature of your fancy fate calculator; it’s practically an interdimensional fingerprint.  How do you think it is that I always manage to find you, sooner or later?”  Still, there was no response from Jamie.

“Fine,” Jamie’s unwelcome visitor sighed over the intercom, “formalities it is.  Ninety-Seven, I know you’re in there.  It’s me, Seven-Twenty-Eight.  Is that better?”  The humming of the lift was the only reply.  “Don’t make me flood the elevator car with something particularly nasty.  I really would like to talk before you go back to the nursery for the final time.”

Jamie, the (for all intents and purposes) “real” Jamie spoke out.  “Why?”

“Think of it as seeking closure.  A final service. A form of grief counseling.” The intercom replied

“No, you vicious little cunt,” Jamie spat.  “Why did you turn on me?  We were supposed to be friends, or at least allies.  You were the one that dropped me off on this Earth.”

A dark laugh filled the little box, bouncing off the four walls, creating a literal echo chamber.  “Oh poor widdle Jamie Ninety-Seven,” Jamie’s doppleganger with the mismatched eyes mocked.  “With all your calculating of the odds, all your data, all your accounting for this factor and that one, you never factored in the simplest of options left to you, even when it was staring you right in the face.”

“Make a point,” Jamie ordered, “or just get on with it.”

“Have you ever heard of the Monty Hall problem?” the woman outside the elevator asked.  She didn’t wait for a response.  “You’re given three doors.  One has a brand new car, the other two have a man eating tiger behind-”

“I’ve always wanted a man eating tiger,” Jamie interrupted her evil twin.

Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight growled, “Fine, then it’s something you don’t want!” Jamie didn’t respond.  “You pick a door, but before you do, you’re shown that one of doors you didn’t pick had one of the big whammies behind it.  Then you’re asked if you want to keep your original pick, or choose the other door that hasn’t been opened.” There was a pause for emphasis.  “What do you do Ninety-Seven?  What do you do?”

“I abandon my first choice, and switch to the remaining door,” Jamie replied.  “Every kindergartener knows that; on Earth Ninety-Seven anyways. It’s basic statistics.  When I made my first choice, I had a one out of three chance.  My odds changed when it was narrowed down to two doors.  Sticking with my first choice would have been statistically unsound.”

“Exactly!’ Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight crowed.  “The fewer choices there are, the better chance you have of winning!”

“I don’t see your point.”

“My point, Ninety-Seven,” the Jamie on the top floor spat, “is that the fewer options there are, the better chance you have at winning.  The more baby Jamies there are in the multiverse, the better chance I have of becoming one of the few Mommies.”

“You’re insane,” Jamie’s voice called up to the elevator’s intercom.

Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight clucked her tongue.  “And you’re proof.  You were minutes away from eating all of your meals in a highchair when I rescued you.  Then I bring you here, you regress Ninety-Six, and you’ve had the better part of a decade with your independence intact.”

Jamie defended herself.  “Ninety-Six wanted to be a baby!”

“That’s besides the point.  The playing field is narrowing more every day.  Only a few more of those coveted Mommy fates are left.  If one of us is going to circumvent it, the other is likely going to have to forfeit her big girl panties.”  There was a pause. “Better you than me.”

“Fuck you.” Jamie shouted.  “Fuck! You! Bitch!”

“Get all the cursing out of your system now, little girl,” Jamie heard her own voice taunt back at her.  “You don’t need a spoken vocabulary to make blueprints for the General and Miranda.  As soon as you get up here, those doors open, and you get darted with my own little cocktail of Dominance.”

Meanwhile… Outside…In Public

 

When Jack had last left this place, it had been in nothing more than a onesie and diaper.  The fact that he was being brought back in such a similar outfit, only in a station wagon that just screamed “Mom Mobile”, seemed appropriate, somehow.  The plastic backing of his new diaper crinkled louder than his usual Pampers, but it was nothing compared to the sounds of the city.  Stepping out of the backseat, he looked up at the towering skyscraper, and shuddered a bit.  Was he really doing this?

“Are you okay?” Shelly called out from the driver’s seat.  Mutely, Jack nodded, his bare legs shivering a bit from a cold breeze.

The New York crowd shuffling past him, barely gave him a second glance.  He barely gave them a second glance.  He was in a giant diaper and onesie, but somehow this all felt right to him.  He didn’t even notice people not noticing.  Honestly, the whole lack of an ordeal made him feel even more little.

God, he shuddered internally, was he getting used to this?  Worse was he really, actually-factually, enjoying this nonsense?  He supposed he just might be…or was he just drunk? Probably drunk…maybe in love…definitely drunk.  “I got this,” Jack looked back at Shelly, still wobbling.  “I’m a big boy.”

The Floodgates Open.

 

DING!

The doors of the elevator slid open, and tranquilizer darts whizzed through the air, piercing through the girly pink pajamas. “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby wears her diapers”, a voice (so similar to Jamie Vasquez’s that even her best friends might not notice the difference) called out.  The subject in the elevator shuddered and crumpled to the floor, spasming and pawing at their own crotch.

Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight, identical in most every way to her counterpart, save for her mismatched eyes, stood flanked by two soldiers. The pair of grunts trained their rifles on their target, not lowering the weapons even after their mark had hit home.   They wanted to take Jamie alive, so she had that going for her, though what life they had planned for her was another matter of contention.

“Don’t fight it, baby,” Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight echoed a phrase that her target had spouted, “just let it happen.”   She went up to Jamie’s still convulsing form, her surgical mask and sunglasses combo disguising the look of anguish on the young woman’s face.  “That’s odd.”  Her eyes darted to her quarry’s crotch, and noticed the telltale bulging of an expanding Pampers.  A knowing smirk came to her face.

Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight bent over the prone form of her latest conquest, shaking her head in condescending superiority.  “Ah yes, I’d heard about Miranda’s little misstep at the McDonald’s,” she gloated.  “I figured you would have had a cure hidden somewhere; goodness knows it wasn’t in your house or your office.  Still,” she yanked down the front of Jamie’s pants, “you saved me the trouble of taping on a new…” then she noticed the distinct bulge at the front of the diaper:  Either Jamie Vasquez from Earth Ninety-Seven, beautiful and brilliant inventor and founder of Infinitech, suddenly had a penis, or else….

Seven-Twenty-Eight ripped off the mask and sunglasses, only to gaze upon a little slip of a man, his face perpetually pocked with acne, despite easily being in his late twenties to early thirties.  The poor man’s face was dusted with white powder, his eyes glazed over as he hallucinated happier dreams than being shot at near point-blank range with nanite infused tranquilizer darts.  In one hand, he held the one thing that Jamie Ninety-Seven could never be without, and from it came a single, eerily cheery sound.  It wasn’t much, but it might as well have been funeral bells for the dimension hopping Benedict Arnold.

“PING!”

 

“Oh no…”

Up from the stairwell, the door flung open and a veritable blur leaped through, each step a rapid bound, as bare feet slipped the surly bonds of gravity.  The two men that had been flanking Jamie’s doppelganger were laid low on the floor before they could properly react; their bodies completely numb as a special teething wring was pressed into the back of their necks.

Jamie Ninety-Seven, clad only in the grungy gravity reducing shortalls she’d dressed Jack in that morning, a pair of vinyl gloves, and a diaper bag filled with goodies, lunged forward; every step being amplified by the anti-gravity matrix woven into the denim fabric.  She was Jessie Quick; she was Spider-Woman; she was Captain Marvel!  The teething ring hit her doppelganger right between her mismatched eyes.  The pantsuit wearing bitch fell as not just her mouth, but most every extremity was numbed beyond functionality. “Hi Jamie,” Jack’s former Mommy grinned down at her evil own twin.  “I’m guessing you didn’t know that I could transmit my voice through that, did you?  One of the benefits when you build your super computer out of a repurposed baby monitor.”  If Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight found this particularly ironic or remarkable, she was unable to express such astonishment.

An evil grin spread across Jamie’s face, as she opened the diaper bag.  “So, I’m operating under the theory that I can maneuver myself into a specific set of circumstances where I’ll end up as the Mommy,” she began, taking out a Sesame Street decorated diaper.  “You’re operating under the pretense that if enough versions of us, end up as big babies, the rest will be left to get what we really want.  Let’s test each other’s hypotheses.”

She walked over to the other Jamie’s prone body on the floor of her main elevator.  She grunted and groaned a bit, as she pulled the other Jamie off of her unwilling little diversion.  Through her haze of adrenaline fueled giddiness, Jamie promised herself that once revenge was satisfied, she’d make sure to cure the poor man she’d jumped at the elevator, and compensate him appropriately.  Jack would have wanted it that way, especially since he was one of hits little friends from work.

Jack!  A fresh pain flared in Jamie’s frontal lobe.  If not for this bitch- this bitch who was essentially her- she would still have had her baby boy.  They would have been happy!  They were so close!  She would have been free!  But because of her meddling and little games of human chess, she’d let Jack go and had her heart broken in the process!  She’d been made the one thing she’d sworn she’d never be again: vulnerable.

Oh, she was going to enjoy this!

Jamie brushed the lone shock of punk-rock purple out of her double’s face, yet another miniscule difference between the two.  “Don’t worry,” she quietly sneered, “I’m not going to use Dominance nanites on you.  I’ve got something better in mind.”  Without further ado, and in sight of at least three confused and terrified onlookers, helpless and unable to move, Jamie Ninety-Seven began to strip Seven-Twenty-Eight’s clothes off of her, ripping the midnight black pants, jacket, and blouse from her.  The other woman’s bra and panties were ripped to shreds and left on the floor.

Jamie unfolded the giant Pampers she’d taken out of the diaper bag and grunted as she forced the other woman’s legs and hips into the air so she could slide the infantile undergarment beneath her victim’s hips.  Next, she reached into the bag and pulled out what appeared to be a tube of diaper cream, but as with all things with Jamie Vasquez, brilliant inventor and vengeful bitch, things were not as they seemed.  The other woman’s legs were spread, as Jamie went to work between them, spreading and smearing the white ointment all over Seven-Twenty-Eight’s diaper area, smoothing it out here and there, adding more in others.  When her entire private region was properly coated, Jamie carefully pulled the diaper up over her other self and fastened on the Velcro tapes.

A moan escaped Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight’s otherwise paralyzed form.  “That heat you’re feeling?”  Jamie said as she started to carefully remove the cream stained gloves.  “That’s my special conditioning cream.  You’ll like it…at first.”  The babied woman’s breath caught and then hastened, her eyes darting down to her waste, a desperate edge in her panting.  “Yeah, I bet you haven’t felt anything like that in a long time.”

At complete ease, Jamie dug around in her diaper bag for one last trick.  Meanwhile, unable to so much as wriggle, her twin began to whimper and moan.  Jamie tittered as she took out her old Hitachi Magic Wand. Something so base and so adult was normally beneath her, but this was a special occasion.

“Works fast, doesn’t it?” she said as she looked down at the diapered woman’s desperately darting eyes.  To the wand, back down to her diaper, to the wand, back down to the diaper; as if she were trying to make it happen.  Jamie knew from prior experience that Seven-Twenty-Eight was well past the point of thinking straight.  Initially a test run at classical conditioning so that diapers would become tied with sexual release, the white stuff she’d spread on the bitch’s privates was stronger and (and more pleasurable to all anatomies) than Viagra.  It was pure sexual frustration in a tube.

“You need help?”  Jamie offered.

“Uh-huh.”

Jamie switched the wand on.  The electric hum sent her defeated adversary into near hysterics.  “Okay.”  She thrust the instrument hard up against the thick padding, using her babied twin’s panicked moans of pleasure as a guide.  In a weird, almost cosmic way, it was a little bit like masturbation, only the pleasure Jamie took from the act was purely psychological.  It was almost like a game, really; just listen to the grunts, groans and moans, and keep going until the woman who has so much in common with her (but was fundamentally oh-so-different) broke out into a sweat and then screamed out in orgasm.  The whole thing took a little less than three minutes.

“Good baby.” Jamie said, patting the thick padding with her bare hand, as her newest plaything panted in relief.  Then… “Five, four, three, two, one.”  Seven-Twenty-Eight’s breath hastened again, her skin broke out into a fresh, cold, sweat.

“Uhhhhh?” the babied bitch questioned and whined simultaneously.  “Uuuuuuuh?!”
“Oh, that?  Yeah, that’s a nasty little failing of the cream,” Jamie grinned wickedly.  “It makes you incredibly, unstoppably horny for approximately seventy-two hours.  No relief.  No cure but time.”  Seething with rage and sexual frustration, Seven-Twenty-Eight’s screams of anger and desperation roared out of her body.  Rising back to her feet, Jamie spat, “I think I’m going make you my little doll.  I’ll just keep you nice and immobile while you stay stuck all hot and bothered in your Pampers.  If you’re lucky, I’ll give you a tiny little bit of teasing and relief whenever I change your diaper; though I’ll make sure to reapply the diaper cream with every change.  Don’t want my new widdle baby girl to get a rash.  Eventually, I’m betting you’ll snap.  It might take a little while, but I’ve got time.”

KA-CHAK!

“No.” an grizzled, gruff voice stated.  “You don’t.”  Jamie looked from her opponent, to the intruder behind her.   She knew she’d forgotten someone.

“Nicely done,” General Smothers said, cocking a pistol and aiming it at Jamie.  “Now put your hands up and don’t move.”  Jamie froze.  That was no tranquilizer gun aimed at her.  “You’re pretty fast,” he said in an almost complimentary tone, “but are you bullet dodging fast?”  Jamie didn’t dare move.  “Thought not.”

Eyes closed, Jamie tried to steady herself, reaching deep down to scoop out a well of calm.  She could do this.  She could do this.  “General,” she said, sounding far more in control than she felt.

“Vasquez,” the General replied, curtly. “Those are my men laying there.  Lower in the building, those are my men collapsed, peeing themselves, masturbating, and you’re the one that did that to them.”

“To be fair, General, you swung on me first.  We had a deal.”

“That other you cut us a better one.”

Spinning on the ball of her foot, Jamie turned and stared straight into the old hawk’s face.  “And look what’s happened to her.”  General Smothers did not flinch.  “Am I really worth all this trouble?  The only victory you’ll get from me, is a Pyhrric one.”

“You’re a threat.  You’ve made that clear.”

The young woman cocked an eyebrow.  “You want a threat?” Jamie took a deep breath.  “Voice Command: Jay-Vee-Ninety-Seven-Ay-Bee,” she spoke loudly.  Three loud, droning tones coming from Jamie’s office, the doors behind the general, chimed in response.

“The hell was that?”

“My failsafe,” Jamie explained. “Five minutes.  If I don’t deactivate it, this building goes up in flames, and the entire city gets a nice big ol’ whiff of the white stuff I used on your boys downstairs.”  This, of course, was all a complete lie; a bluff.  In reality, Jamie had just activated a series of sub-routines to channel her funds into off shore accounts and send information on how to access them to Shelly and Gertrude, as well as a heartfelt goodbye message.  Jamie had been prepared for most every eventuality, including the end.

The man holding her at gunpoint however, didn’t know this.   Jamie wasn’t even playing poker at this point- poker took skill.  This was just plain old playing chicken.  Jamie took a step towards the general.  Then another. Then another until she was right in front of him.  “Tick-tock, General.  Tick-tock.”

Blink you old fool!  Blink!

 

“Heeeeeeeey Jamie,” an all too familiar voice broke the silence.  Heavy oak doors creaked, as a young man with black hair, his midsection bulging from the thick diaper strapped around his waist, and a plain yellow onesie stumbled onto the scene.  “So, I’m a little drunk, but I met a fren a’ yurs, and they got me to thinkin…” Jack took in the still chaos before him.  “….oh.”  The color drained from his face, and he stood up a little straighter.

“Baby?” Jamie squeaked, a mixture of surprise, delight, and horror all mixed into that single word.

General Smothers pivoted on his heel, pointing his weapon at Jack. “Hands up, freak!”  Jack complied.

“Look, if this is a bad time,” Jack offered.  “I can leave.”

“How’d you get in here?”  Smothers demanded to know.

Jack, keeping his hands up, and suddenly very, very sober, explained “Secret entrance.  It’s how she got me in an out in nothing but a diaper without people noticing.”

“Huh,” their adversary grunted.  “So, Jamie, are you willing to take your ‘baby’,” the word sounded dirty and vile coming from him, “out with us?”

Jamie was trapped.  By some miracle, Jack had toddled back into her life, already back in his adorable baby clothes no less, and willingly it would seem.  If she kept the bluff up, he might recoil from her.  If she told the truth, they were both doomed.  It seemed Fate wasn’t giving her the happy ending she’d worked so hard for.

Jack’s eyes took in the whole room before settling on a still very much paralyzed and very horny Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight.  “Jamie?” he called out, “Is that another another you lying on the floor in a diaper?”

The general echoed Jack’s words incredulously.  “Another another?”

“Not now, Jack, baby.”  Jamie chided him, nervously.  “Mommy’s a little busy.  The General wants to imprison her.”

Jack’s brow knitted.  “Why?” He pointed to the Jamie laying on the floor, unaware of her perpetual agony.  “Is that other you not smart enough or something?”

By whatever gods might be listening, why was he being so ridiculously thick all of a sudden?  “She taught them how to reverse engineer my nanites in a matter of days,” she explained, an edge of panic starting to infect her voice.

The man-baby’s mouth twisted as he worked something out in his head, seemingly oblivious to the gun aimed at his chest. “So why not just take her?”

Now it was Smothers’s turn to be taken aback.  “What?”

“Just take her,” Jack suggested, his diaper crinkling as he shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “She’s smart.  If she’s from another dimension, she’s not even a legal citizen, is she?”

“What about my men?” General Smothers asked.

“I can fix them!” Jamie called out.  “I can fix them!  Just let me get to my lab, and I can turn them all back to normal within the hour.”  That was kind of true.  Most of the effects would wear off by then on their own.

“Uuuuuuuuuuuh!” Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight cried out in protest, unable to do anything else.

The General looked around the room, to his men on the floor, to Jamie-Seven-Twenty-Eight,  to Jack.  “I see why you keep him around,” the General said.

 

Negotiation…

   It took a little more than an hour, some discreet bribes to her employees, and a fresh batch of Jamie’s Dominance destroying aerosol, but soon enough the Infinitech building was restored to a semblance of order.  The General took his new interdimensional genius prisoner with him, the most pertinent and damning security footage for both sides was deleted, hands were shook, and a fresh round of “Goodbye and I hope to never see you again” was said by all.

The sun had set, and all the employees had gone home to their apartments and houses in the suburbs, vowing under the carrot of a substantially increased salary and the threat of violating a non-disclosure agreement in all of their employee contracts to not discuss with anyone, even each other, what had gone on today.  In the end, all that was left was Jack and Jamie, both sitting on the plush carpet on the floor of her office.

“Dominance,” she started.

“No.” he counted. “I listen to you because I want to.”

“Then how am I supposed to make you obey me?” she half-whined, half-demanded.

“Threaten to withhold something I like, put me in time out.  Tease me or coax me into it.  You’re super hot, I would have dressed like this,” he indicated the onesie and diaper- a diaper that was starting to swell a little too much, Jamie noticed, “without being drugged. Or,” he added, “trust that if I’m not listening to you, it’s for a good reason.  Communicate with me.”

“But Mommies know best,” she insisted.

“Only if they know everything that’s going on,” he told her.  “Babies know shit, too.  I just want you to listen to me.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“No sex,” Jamie continued the negotiation, purposefully aiming to cut off her nose to spite her face.

Jack looked like he was about to cry. “What?!  No!”

Jamie giggled.  “Okay, okay, looks like I’ve got something to hold over you, already.  Fine, sex is allowed, but it’s my decision and only upon my suggestion.  Furthermore,” she leaned over and poked him in the nose.  “I decide where you sleep.  You can crawl into bed with me when I feel like it, but other than that you sleep in your crib in your own room.”

“I’ll live with that.”   Jack conceded. “But I don’t want to be lonely.  I want to start hanging out with Shelly and those other baby types.  Go to a munch or something.  Maybe a party or something.”

Jamie raised her eyebrows in bemused curiosity.  “Shelly, you say?  You have been busy, haven’t you?  Have you been making some little friends?”

“Something like that.”

Jack’s mommy licked her lips and thought for a moment.  “Okay, but when we go in public, you’ll still be diapered.  You’ll get shortalls and like it.  Nothing more grown-up than that.  Nothing that could make it harder to change you.”

Jamie’s baby boy seemed to think this over, quite seriously in fact, before saying. “Deal.  What about meals?”

“What about them?”

“I want to choose what I eat.”

“Friday and Saturday nights,” Jamie offered, “other than that, it’s my decision”

“Deal.”

They looked at each other, each trying to think of what else to say.  What about their new/old relationship hadn’t they addressed and thoroughly hammered out?

“Oh, one more thing,” Jack added.  “You gotta find a way to reverse the damage you did with that brain wiping shit.  Can’t you figure out a way to program nanites to rebuild brain cells or something?’”

Jamie scowled.  “If I must.”

“You must.”

“Fine.  Anything else?”

“If I think of something, I’ll make sure to ask, Mommy.”

Jamie sat up a little straighter.  “What did you call me?”

“Mommy,” Jack blushed.  He hadn’t entirely meant to call he that.  It just came out.

“Yeah,” Jamie said, breathily, lowering the denim strap on the overalls she was still wearing, exposing a bulging, milk engorged breast.  “I’m going to need a whole lot more of that.”  She scooted closer and guided his head towards her tit, already starting to lactate.

“Yes, Mommy,” he whispered before latching on.

He didn’t need any kind of trigger phrase to explode in his diaper.

 

In the corner of the main Infinitech elevator, a little computer laid, its hyper intelligent processor firing on all cylinders; it’s voice transmitting and recording functions still active, Jamie having forgotten to turn them off.  The artificial near-intelligence required to run Jamie’s complex probability calculating algorithm had been continuously at work ever since, taking each new piece of data Jamie was unintentionally providing it with; calculating…calculating… calculating….until…

“PING!”

Finally, the struggle had ended.

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13 minutes ago, Jayme said:

Beautiful story, best ending possible for Jamie 97.... too bad we didn't get to find out what else happened

What do you mean?  Also thank you for the compliment.

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Afterword: A Word from the Author.

So sometimes people ask me "Hey Pers, where do you get your ideas?"  I usually just shrug and go "I dunno?", cuz seriously, what kind of question is that?  This particular story at least, has enough of a back story that it's worth a little blurb.

It all started with the story "The New Hansel and Gretel".  The premise was simple.  A husband and wife buy a house and get babied and regressed by a witch.  My commissioner gave me a lot of creative freedom, including changing "witch" to "Fae", but the main characters had to be named Jack and Jamie.  Turns out this person commissioned various writers and artists to portray Jack and Jamie in abdl and cg/l scenarios.  No harm in that, and I was flattered to be included in this.

So I wrote "The New Hansel and Gretel".  Had some fun, and in some ways I managed to stretch myself a bit and tweak my narrative voice a bit.  Good project.  I consider it a success.

Then, almost a year later, I was asked to write another Jack and Jamie story.  This time though, Jamie was the owner of a big company was a and Jack was a poor guy duped into being a "product tester", thanks to some creative contract usage and some magical drugs slipped in his drink.  But of course, you knew that, because you've read the story.

I was initially reluctant, even with promises of creative freedom.  I wasn't against the idea of the story, it's just that I'd already written a "Jack and Jamie" story.  So how do I write another one without going back to the well?  I mean...yes, I could just write the damn story, make the characters named Jack and Jamie, and be done with it, but where was the fun in that?

The thing is, I'd found no small amount of stories and drawings already starring a husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend team in an ABDL dynamic. And some small competitive part of my crazy brain didn't want this to be "just another" Jack and Jamie story.  Also, I'm a huge continuity nerd.  So how do I reconcile this?  I guess I could just tell myself that it's in another dimension...

And that's when it hit me.

What if all Jack and Jamie scenarios were true?  What if some cosmic interdimensional force (or commissioner...whatever) made it so that wherever there was Jack and Jamie, at least one of them would end up diapered?  Because SOMETIMES...not always...but SOMETIMES...Jamie would be the Mommy figure (just like in this story).  It was inevitable.  But what if there was some wiggle room?  

So that's how Jamie became the mad scientist mommy.  She knew just enough about the way the multiverse worked to be scared and to know to be searching for someone to baby, lest she become babied herself.

But all of this stuff was so over the top.  Like why oversized baby diapers when regular medical ones would do?  (Besides the fact that the commissioner wanted big Pampers).  Well...that informed an aspect of Jamie's personality.  Very "gimmick" focused and obsessed, but not much in the way of practicality.  The Reed Richards of Dommy Mommy's.   So Jack kind of developed into her foil.  A big talker, with little control, but infinitely more common sense.

Hopefully, I did my job right, and what might have been an amusing femdom abdl fiction, become a kind of kinky action comedy with some decent character development....I dunno.  I'm actually terrible at endi-

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The ending was great for Jamie 97 and Jack, but what happened to the other Jamie that tried to screw the Jamie 97? Did she create the weapons or was she so screwed over with the diapers (pun intended) that she lost her mind?

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10 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

I really enjoyed this and I have a feeling how things want after, Jack has a loving mommy and she never has to worry ever again.:wub:

Yeah, I rarely do happy endings, but I'd say this was one of them.

 

 

56 minutes ago, Jayme said:

The ending was great for Jamie 97 and Jack, but what happened to the other Jamie that tried to screw the Jamie 97? Did she create the weapons or was she so screwed over with the diapers (pun intended) that she lost her mind?

I've got my ideas, but I don't want to give a definitive answer after the credits have rolled, so to speak.  I don't want to J.K. Rowling it. Not that I'm as good a writer as her, I just don't want to get into every little knitty gritty detail after the fact.  Though, like ancient wizards, at least one character will be pooping themselves on a regular basis.

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Lol, just expanding the thought in my last post. I wouldn't want anyone to try and mimic J.K. Rowlings... even though they do say imitation is the best form of flattery. Still I'm glad to hear that you have further plans for this as it's a great story and could be a Fantastic Saga.

 

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34 minutes ago, Jayme said:

Lol, just expanding the thought in my last post. I wouldn't want anyone to try and mimic J.K. Rowlings... even though they do say imitation is the best form of flattery. Still I'm glad to hear that you have further plans for this as it's a great story and could be a Fantastic Saga.

  

I think you misunderstand.  Sorry.  I don't have any plans atm for how to make this a "saga" or continuing series or what have you.  I'm sorry if I misled you.  I just meant how J.K. keeps adding more to her continuity (usually via twitter) to answer fan questions, like "If Wizards tend to not use muggle things, why are there bathrooms?  And what did wizards use before bathrooms?"  Short version is Wizards pooped and peed themselves and magicked it away.  

While it is an amusing anecdote, it kinda takes away from the "magic" of it all by going into such super minute detail.  As regards to your question to "Evil" Jamie, there are some established rules in the text for how long she's going to be stuck that way.

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Right, the cream wears off after 72 hours if not reapplied....

I understand not having any plans for sequels to this as it leaves the Fate of the characters to our imagination(s)

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A very good story, thank you for sharing with us all.

I'd love to know what happened with those two later now that they have a more mutually desirable relationship.  And no, I don't expect the author to produce said story, such things take both time and interest, and I think you're done with these two characters.  ?

Thanks again!

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13 minutes ago, christi said:

A very good story, thank you for sharing with us all.

I'd love to know what happened with those two later now that they have a more mutually desirable relationship.  And no, I don't expect the author to produce said story, such things take both time and interest, and I think you're done with these two characters.  ?

 Thanks again!

Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment. I have my thoughts but I don't want to throw off your imagination.

 

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Thanks for sharing this with us.  An intricately woven plot, decent character development, and the steady, up tempo pace made this a delight to read.  What makes it special, however, and not just another example of well written fetish porn,  is the subordination of the diaper motif to the question of free will versus determinism (Fate).  You have laid this out, with technological bells and whistles appropriate to our day,  in a manner that is both plausible and thought provoking.  In fictional form, this is actually the best exposition of the theme that I have read since Ernest K. Gann 's Fate is the Hunter (1961).  At present, this is a novella, but it could become a Kindle novel if you took it out to 70,000-90,000 words.  In this respect, I would encourage you to expand the beginning rather than change the end-- give Jack, and the company he works for, more of a history.

You may or may not be familiar with Frank Tipler's controversial The Physics of Immortality.  The Big Crunch-- what Tipler styles the Omega Point-- gives us an infinite number of universes, in each and every one of which Jack and Jaimie play out/replay their lives, as do we all.  His is a very deterministic POV, so much so that deja vu can (and has been) explained as bleed through from one universe to the next. By adding zero and double zero to the roulette wheel, you have created a more hopeful universe-- one in which a happy ending is actually possible.  I'm glad that you chose, in the end, not to give us an updated version of Greek tragedy!

Again, thanks for the (free) ride.  I suspect that, if you have not already read them, you would enjoy Ken Grimwood's Replay, and Richard Morgan's Takeshi Kovacs novels.   

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4 hours ago, Babypants said:

Thanks for sharing this with us.  An intricately woven plot, decent character development, and the steady, up tempo pace made this a delight to read.  What makes it special, however, and not just another example of well written fetish porn,  is the subordination of the diaper motif to the question of free will versus determinism (Fate).  You have laid this out, with technological bells and whistles appropriate to our day,  in a manner that is both plausible and thought provoking.  In fictional form, this is actually the best exposition of the theme that I have read since Ernest K. Gann 's Fate is the Hunter (1961).  At present, this is a novella, but it could become a Kindle novel if you took it out to 70,000-90,000 words.  In this respect, I would encourage you to expand the beginning rather than change the end-- give Jack, and the company he works for, more of a history.

You may or may not be familiar with Frank Tipler's controversial The Physics of Immortality.  The Big Crunch-- what Tipler styles the Omega Point-- gives us an infinite number of universes, in each and every one of which Jack and Jaimie play out/replay their lives, as do we all.  His is a very deterministic POV, so much so that deja vu can (and has been) explained as bleed through from one universe to the next. By adding zero and double zero to the roulette wheel, you have created a more hopeful universe-- one in which a happy ending is actually possible.  I'm glad that you chose, in the end, not to give us an updated version of Greek tragedy!

 Again, thanks for the (free) ride.  I suspect that, if you have not already read them, you would enjoy Ken Grimwood's Replay, and Richard Morgan's Takeshi Kovacs novels.   

Wow.  Being compared to actual authors (even ones I'm not familiar with) is a real compliment.  Thank you.  I'm quoting this so I can find copies of those books.  Just did a word count. 

This novella is roughly 76K words long.  However, if I choose to do a redux of this, I'd definitely take your advice and expand on the backstory.  This was originally written as a piece for Cushypen, and it's a pay site (so I've already been paid yay!), so in my own interests I obviously skipped to the kinky part quickly to make sure readers got their money's worth.

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Honestly Pers...nothing against any other CushyPen artists...but you are pretty much the only reason I buy a monthly subscription for CushyPen. 

You have commisioned two stories for me in the past "Its Not a Competition" and "Pastel Mirror (my favorite ABDL story of all time regardless of bias)...and its available to read on the CushyPen Tumblr site btw guys

Cant wait for more from you Pers! 

(PS I hope you one day start a Patreon account)

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15 hours ago, Dips&Dots said:

Honestly Pers...nothing against any other CushyPen artists...but you are pretty much the only reason I buy a monthly subscription for CushyPen. 

You have commisioned two stories for me in the past "Its Not a Competition" and "Pastel Mirror (my favorite ABDL story of all time regardless of bias)...and its available to read on the CushyPen Tumblr site btw guys

Cant wait for more from you Pers! 

(PS I hope you one day start a Patreon account)

I MIGHT (emphasis) start a Patreon one day when I have less on my plate, and less deadlines to complete.  For now, I'm happy with posting to Cushypen (I'll be back soon if you're still a subscriber) and working on Perpetual Change. (Video Game with Piece of Soap)

And yeah, Pastel Mirror Episode 2 was an interesting one to write.  I'll see if I can find it and share it here tomorrow.  

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44 minutes ago, Personalias said:

I MIGHT (emphasis) start a Patreon one day when I have less on my plate, and less deadlines to complete.  For now, I'm happy with posting to Cushypen (I'll be back soon if you're still a subscriber) and working on Perpetual Change. (Video Game with Piece of Soap)

And yeah, Pastel Mirror Episode 2 was an interesting one to write.  I'll see if I can find it and share it here tomorrow.  

I'd love to see Perpetual Change be finished. Love the story. 

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This was a terrific story, Personalias. I particularly liked how you turned it consensual with negotiation at the end. I often enjoy nonconsensual stories, but I also feel a little squicky and terrible about it, so having it resolve that way was a lovely relief.

(But I find myself hoping he'll agree to let her adjust him just a tiny bit... I mean, always having to think about it before using one's diapers is such a burden, surely Jack-Jack would want to be free of it...)

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5 hours ago, enfant said:

This was a terrific story, Personalias. I particularly liked how you turned it consensual with negotiation at the end. I often enjoy nonconsensual stories, but I also feel a little squicky and terrible about it, so having it resolve that way was a lovely relief.

(But I find myself hoping he'll agree to let her adjust him just a tiny bit... I mean, always having to think about it before using one's diapers is such a burden, surely Jack-Jack would want to be free of it...)

It wasn't the idea going in, but consent was the only way the characters could resolve their conflict.  As for maybe a little incontinence tweaking... there's always re-negotiation.  

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This was a awesome story! Reading your Authors word at the end I would say the commissioner was totally satisfied and probably even more impressed than I was. You really outdid yourself on this story. Thank you and your commissioner for this. It has to go down as one of the finest stories of this kind. 

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