[Preston] From Jo to Joella (Ch. 36 added 8/27/20)

[bobindiapers]

On 5/22/2020 at 2:48 PM, CynthiaCM said:

To Shotgun Diplomat: This isn't a revision of that story. It just takes place in the same setting, which is what the original creator intended folks to do. Sadly, it never caught on the way the Diaper Dimension has. So I figured I'd do my part to bring this setting to life again.

The original Diaper Dimension story was written years before another writer revived the idea and started the current interest in that universe, maybe your story will spark a bunch of stories based in Preston!  Thanks for writing this, I loved The Unlikely Couple and your story is off to a great start.

[CynthiaCM]

2 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

This is getting soo good now.

The best is yet to come. I promise that.

2 hours ago, bobindiapers said:

The original Diaper Dimension story was written years before another writer revived the idea and started the current interest in that universe, maybe your story will spark a bunch of stories based in Preston!  Thanks for writing this, I loved The Unlikely Couple and your story is off to a great start.

That would be great! I would love to see other writers give their take on the setting. 

[Baby Billy]

8 minutes ago, CynthiaCM said:

The best is yet to come. I promise that.

That's good to hear, I read the original stories that started this and was sad they were not ever expanded on.  I have a collection of e-books about a ranch that has the same idea of the men are the head of the house. 

[ppbenn]

Great chapters @CynthiaCM. I'm enjoying the ride, and I hope to read more soon

 

[CynthiaCM]

11 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

That's good to hear, I read the original stories that started this and was sad they were not ever expanded on.  I have a collection of e-books about a ranch that has the same idea of the men are the head of the house. 

Those e-books sound intriguing!

4 hours ago, ppbenn said:

Great chapters @CynthiaCM. I'm enjoying the ride, and I hope to read more soon

 

Thank you. More will be posted very soon.

[CynthiaCM]

CHAPTER 7

“How fucking long have you two had THIS shit planned out? Was this what you intended all along?” I was yelling without restraint at this point. I was seething with rage.

“You’d better watch your language,” my father said sternly.

“Answer my question, damn you!”

“Watch your language.”

There was silence for a moment before he spoke again. I stared holes through him the entire time.

“Yes, that has been our plan. We want to start you over and re-raise you so that you’ll become a functioning adult in due time. We went wrong somewhere along the path with you. You started getting more and more antisocial as you got older. We thought it was a phase and that you’d come out of it, but that hasn’t been the case. You’ve gotten worse over time. Nothing has worked with curbing your behavior. Groundings, privilege losses, taking away your allowance. We’ve tried everything! Done it all! And to no avail. You just kept on skipping school, getting drunk, ignoring rules and I know you’ve been smoking pot. I’ve smelled it on you, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe it was just one of your friends doing it and the smell just got into your clothes. We were too soft on you and you took advantage of it. Well that’s all coming to an end starting now!”

I immediately retorted. “Of course I acted out! I was a nobody to you! Megan was always your golden child! I didn’t matter! She was placed on a pedestal ever since she was born. She could do no wrong and I could do no right! Hell, you even put her in charge of me! ‘Megan, look out for Jo.’ ‘Make sure Jo stays home, Megan.’ ‘If Jo gives you trouble, let us know.’ That’s how it has always been! I got sick of it. Why would I behave if I was always going to be the one who got shit on?”

“That’s selective memory, Joella, and you know it. We only put Megan in charge after you started breaking all of our rules every single day. She needed a big sister when she was younger and you insisted on being a bad influence; like the time you tried to get her to help you steal that tablet from the electronics store. Or the time you spiked her drink at her own birthday party? What about the time you attempted to get her to go to that late-night booze party? I could go on and on with examples, but I’m sure you remember them… you just block them out when it’s convenient for you to.”

“Fine, okay,” I yelled back, knowing that he was right about some of what he said, “I’m a terrible person! I get it! I’ve always known it, alright? So fuck you for shoving it in my face!”

My father sat down on the corner of the bed, his anger subsiding somewhat. “You’re not a terrible person, Joella.”

“Please stop calling me that. It’s ‘Jo’. I hate that girly-ass name.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s your name and it’s what you’ll be going by from here on out. But back to the point, I never said you are an awful person. I don’t think that about you. We failed you as parents. We should have cracked down on you when you were little, but we didn’t have the heart. Well, we’re remedying that now, before it’s too late. We don’t want you to become a hoodlum who can’t get by without drinking, causing trouble or doing drugs. This is for your own good.”

I had so many things I wanted to say, so many things I wanted to just scream out. But nothing came. I was speechless, I was beaten, and I was despondent. There was nothing I could have said that would have made a difference. Their minds were made up and I was powerless to stop them.

I just stared off into space, yet not seeing anything really. Finally, he spoke up. “Now, climb up into your bed. We have a long drive ahead of us in the morning and you’re going to need the rest.”

Not knowing what else to do, I obeyed. I didn’t even bother putting on my pajama pants and oversized sleeping tee-shirt. I just took off my shoes and got into bed. This was the worst day of my life, at least at that point. 

“Oh and don’t bother trying to sneak out. Your mother and I are taking shifts watching you.”

Great. And, yes, that was sarcasm.

Sleep came easier than I thought. One second, my mind was racing… the next second, nothing. I was out cold.

The only thing that rousted me from sleep was hearing the rustling of sacks and my mom telling my dad, “I think I got everything we’ll need clothes-wise.”

“You did good, sweetheart,” Father replied in a calm, nurturing voice. “We’ll get the rest of what we need once we get to Preston and settle in, except the car seat. We’ll stop in and get one on the way out.”

A car seat? Surely, he wasn’t serious. But then I realized that he was completely serious.

“I’m not using a car seat,” I stated bluntly.

“Little ma’am,” my father replied, “you’re going to do what you’re told. Besides, in the county Preston is in, it’s illegal for people as tiny as you to travel without being in a car seat and I’m not inclined to get a ticket because you’re being stubborn.”

“I’m not a baby,” I demanded.

“Not just yet anyway,” was his only response before packing up the rest of his belongings, “but all in due time.”

Once they wrapped up and loaded most of the luggage into the trunk of the car, my father looked at me and in a firm voice said, “Your Mommy is going to get you dressed for the first leg of the trip. I suggest you behave for her or else the spanking you received last night will pale in comparison to the one you’ll get this time. That’s a promise.”

My mother rummaged through the bags she brought back from whatever store she went to before I was awake. She had a pleasant smile on her face, like she was perfectly content with making me a baby again. It seemed so twisted, so demented.

I watched as she took out some clothes, but I couldn’t make them out from where I was sitting. Truthfully, I was in no hurry to see them either. I wanted so badly to slip past her and run out the door, but even if I managed to get past Father, who had gone out to “get the car started”, he would be able to catch me without a problem. Having short legs really sucks! I knew I had no choice but to stand there while I was dressed by my mother as if I were two years old.

A few other things were yanked from the bags and placed beside the clothes. Again, I couldn’t discern what they were, but I THINK I saw a razor blade amongst the pile. What the hell?

“Sweetie,” Mom finally said in her normal sugary-toned voice, “please take off your clothes and lie down on the bed.”

I took one step toward her. And then another. I didn’t want to. I felt like I was a convict marching off to the electric chair. And then I saw one of the items she had laid out. It was the thickest white diaper I had ever seen in my life. I stopped in my tracks. The fear in my eyes must have been obvious, because she encouraged me to keep moving, just as one would encourage a baby to take their first steps. 

“Come on, baby girl. Let Mommy shave off all that big girl hair and get you in your fluffy new diaper.” Did she even realize how preposterous she sounded? 

I froze in terror, so she took me by the hand and led me the rest of the way. Remember how I said that the day before was the worst day of my life? Well, today was about to top it… and there was nothing — nothing — I could do about it but let it happen.
 

[Baby Billy]

Poor girl her old life is really over,  the bad thing is this is really condoned in that town as proper treatment for a young girl they think needs it.  Really sick place for girls.

[CynthiaCM]

My muse was really singing today. here's a bonus chapter.

 

CHAPTER 8

There I was, lying down on a motel-room bed, completely naked, waiting for my mother to fill the wash basin with water so she could shave my public hair. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to be in this position. My fiery personality would have forbidden it. But the events of the previous day had, temporarily at least, sapped my willpower. Getting spanked and then verbally reprimanded by my father had taken its toll on my confidence.

She came back, cooing about how good a girl I was being for “lying still for Mommy”. Everytime she said “mommy”, it just made me sick to my stomach. Mom, mother, ma… anything but Mommy would have been okay. There was just something innately infantilizing about that word and I hated it. But I sucked it up, because the last thing I wanted was another trip over my father’s knees. I don’t think I could have taken it at that int, not just because my ass was still sore, but also from a mental perspective.

I felt the razor glide across my crotch area, whisking away the first of many relics of my adulthood. I’ve always had self-esteem issues, especially regarding looking so small and young. Having a nice, thick bush was one of the few things I had that made me feel like an adult. Now, it was being taken from me, stroke by stroke. I could even hear the razor the blade made contact with my flesh. Soon thereafter, she used a damp towel to clean me off down there and to remove the hair that clung to me for dear life. Yeah, overly dramatic, I know, but that’s how it felt.

Once she was sufficiently happy with how the area looked, I heard her prepping other stuff. I didn’t have the will to look, so I kept my eyes completely averted. I didn’t want to see what was happening to me; the slow and awful dismantling of my real self. 

“Okay, lift your tushie up,” she said in a sing-song voice. It didn’t even register to me. I was so focused on my misery that I heard her without actually hearing her, if that makes any sense. 

She sighed. “If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll just have to do it myself.” With that, she grabbed by tiny ankles and lifted my butt up of her own accord. It somehow made me feel even more babyish. With her other hand, she slid the unfolded diaper underneath me and placed me back down.

I snapped back to reality upon the realization that I was going to be trapped in the diaper for who knows how long. “Wait,” I said frantically, “I need to go to the bathroom first.”

Her reply did not please me at all. “Don’t be silly, sweetie. We’re already running behind schedule. Besides, that’s what your diaper is for.”

I became even more frantic. “No, you don’t understand. I have to take a crap.”

“Such coarse language for such a beautiful little girl.”

I wanted to rail on her, get up off the bed and go to the bathroom anyway, but I didn’t. My response was shameful. Instead of doing what I wanted to do, I whined like a child, “But mommmmmmm. I need to go. Pleeeeeease.”

Again, her response wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for. “No, darling. We need to get on the road and you know it always takes you such a long time to make poopies.”

Make poopies? Was she out of her fucking mind?

She was right, though, as much as it pains me to admit. When I took dumps, it always took me forever. I never just pooped a little bit. When I went, I REALLY WENT. A lot! But that was neither her nor there. 

Instead of arguing with her, I simply resolved myself to hold it until the next stop, at which point I would be able to use the facilities. Boy, was I mistaken! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I heard the crinkling of the plastic-backed diaper as she tugged on it so that the front panel came up to my stomach. It’s funny how it’s often the littlest things that affect us the most. With diapers, it was the sound; the insufferable, ever-present crinkling sounds they made. I loathed that sound! I felt the cottiny material against my belly and heard the tapes being pulled. Within seconds, I was securely taped into the first diaper I’d worn since I was two years old. To say it was soul crushing would be the understatement of the year.

“Time to stand up, Joella. Come on.”

Up I went, mindlessly like a zombie. The crinkling was even worse now. It made the noise every time I moved my legs at all. There was nothing discrete about this diaper. And it was incredibly bulky too, making it difficult to get my legs to go together.

I still couldn’t bear to look. I kept my eyes up and over to the side. I had no intention of seeing myself like that. None whatsoever.

“Let’s get your tights on, okay?” Like I had a choice.

My mother produced a pair of white tights. I saw them with my peripheral vision. They were hideous. So very white. She gathered up the left foot of the tights and had me hold onto her for balance as she crouched down. 

“Step in.” I did as I was told. “Good girl. Now the other foot.” I obeyed once more.

The tights were pulled up my legs, causing the strangest sensation I’ve ever felt. Those who have never worn hosiery will never understand how foreign it feels the first time you put them on. The tights are, well, tight, acting like a silky second skin. I wanted to hate it, but found myself getting slightly aroused. I denied it to myself at the time, but the feel of these turned me on… and not just a little.

Mother had to yank them up with some effort to get them to go over the thick diaper. She succeeded and pulled them the rest of the way, far past my belly button.

A small box had been placed by the bed on the floor. I hadn’t noticed it until she reached down for it. Placing it on the bed, she opened it up to reveal the weirdest shoes I had ever seen. They looked like high heeled versions of Mary Jane shoes that were so popular among parents wanting to make their babies look adorable or some shit. But heels? And not just little heels either. These looked to be about four inches tall, which would be ridiculously high considering my teensy little feet. They had ankle straps with miniscule padlocks attached.

“Mom,” I pleaded, “I can’t walk in those.”

“That’s rather the point. It means you’ll need to be carried. If we’re inside, you can crawl. Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll look so cute, just like a real baby.”

“But I’m NOT a real baby, Mom! I’m almost an adult!”

Mom nervously looked over her shoulder, clearly hoping that Dad didn’t hear my outburst. “You don’t want your daddy to give you another spanking do you?”

I just shook my head no.

“Okay then, give me your foot.” Having been thwarted again, I held my foot out so she could place one of these abominations on my foot. The other was added a second later. She sat me down before I had a chance to lose my balance.

“Now the dress,” she chirped, beaming with happiness. At least ONE of us was filled with fucking glee, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.

She pulled out a short, pink sundress with white flowers printed all over it. It was awful, but not nearly as over-the-top as I had feared. I expected something with lots of ruffles, puffy sleeves and the whole nine yards. She placed the dress over my head and pulled it down. It was kind of awkward since I was sitting down and couldn’t stand up, but she wrestled it all into place eventually.

The last nugget of humiliation came in the form of my mother mumbling that she “almost forgot” something, before taking a couple of hair ties out of one of the now-empty sacks. She deftly pulled my hair up into high pigtails that jutted straight out of my head. My hair wasn’t terribly long, but long enough for them to dangle down to about my chin line.

“Perfect,” she declared as she took a couple of steps back to survey her handiwork. “You look just like you did when you were a baby the first time. My little angel.” At least SOMEONE was happy.

“How am I supposed to get to the car, Mom?”

She sighed slightly and said, “From now on, you are to call me ‘Mommy’. No exceptions. ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?”

I just rolled my eyes.

“And to answer your question…” she trailed off her sentence and answered not with words, but with actions. She scooped me up into her arms and carried me more or less on her hip.

“Your daddy is just going to die of happiness when he sees how precious you look!”

That’s when it dawned on me. I was going out into public dressed like this. At that very moment, I wanted to just crawl under a rock and die. And just like that, with me in her arms, she walked enthusiastically toward the door.
 

12 minutes ago, Baby Billy said:

Poor girl her old life is really over,  the bad thing is this is really condoned in that town as proper treatment for a young girl they think needs it.  Really sick place for girls.

Not only condoned, but encouraged. It is indeed a sick place for girls, but it allows for some really juicy psychological stories to be told.

[Baby Billy]

10 minutes ago, CynthiaCM said:

My muse was really singing today. here's a bonus chapter.

 

CHAPTER 8

There I was, lying down on a motel-room bed, completely naked, waiting for my mother to fill the wash basin with water so she could shave my public hair. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to be in this position. My fiery personality would have forbidden it. But the events of the previous day had, temporarily at least, sapped my willpower. Getting spanked and then verbally reprimanded by my father had taken its toll on my confidence.

She came back, cooing about how good a girl I was being for “lying still for Mommy”. Everytime she said “mommy”, it just made me sick to my stomach. Mom, mother, ma… anything but Mommy would have been okay. There was just something innately infantilizing about that word and I hated it. But I sucked it up, because the last thing I wanted was another trip over my father’s knees. I don’t think I could have taken it at that int, not just because my ass was still sore, but also from a mental perspective.

I felt the razor glide across my crotch area, whisking away the first of many relics of my adulthood. I’ve always had self-esteem issues, especially regarding looking so small and young. Having a nice, thick bush was one of the few things I had that made me feel like an adult. Now, it was being taken from me, stroke by stroke. I could even hear the razor the blade made contact with my flesh. Soon thereafter, she used a damp towel to clean me off down there and to remove the hair that clung to me for dear life. Yeah, overly dramatic, I know, but that’s how it felt.

Once she was sufficiently happy with how the area looked, I heard her prepping other stuff. I didn’t have the will to look, so I kept my eyes completely averted. I didn’t want to see what was happening to me; the slow and awful dismantling of my real self. 

“Okay, lift your tushie up,” she said in a sing-song voice. It didn’t even register to me. I was so focused on my misery that I heard her without actually hearing her, if that makes any sense. 

She sighed. “If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll just have to do it myself.” With that, she grabbed by tiny ankles and lifted my butt up of her own accord. It somehow made me feel even more babyish. With her other hand, she slid the unfolded diaper underneath me and placed me back down.

I snapped back to reality upon the realization that I was going to be trapped in the diaper for who knows how long. “Wait,” I said frantically, “I need to go to the bathroom first.”

Her reply did not please me at all. “Don’t be silly, sweetie. We’re already running behind schedule. Besides, that’s what your diaper is for.”

I became even more frantic. “No, you don’t understand. I have to take a crap.”

“Such coarse language for such a beautiful little girl.”

I wanted to rail on her, get up off the bed and go to the bathroom anyway, but I didn’t. My response was shameful. Instead of doing what I wanted to do, I whined like a child, “But mommmmmmm. I need to go. Pleeeeeease.”

Again, her response wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for. “No, darling. We need to get on the road and you know it always takes you such a long time to make poopies.”

Make poopies? Was she out of her fucking mind?

She was right, though, as much as it pains me to admit. When I took dumps, it always took me forever. I never just pooped a little bit. When I went, I REALLY WENT. A lot! But that was neither her nor there. 

Instead of arguing with her, I simply resolved myself to hold it until the next stop, at which point I would be able to use the facilities. Boy, was I mistaken! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I heard the crinkling of the plastic-backed diaper as she tugged on it so that the front panel came up to my stomach. It’s funny how it’s often the littlest things that affect us the most. With diapers, it was the sound; the insufferable, ever-present crinkling sounds they made. I loathed that sound! I felt the cottiny material against my belly and heard the tapes being pulled. Within seconds, I was securely taped into the first diaper I’d worn since I was two years old. To say it was soul crushing would be the understatement of the year.

“Time to stand up, Joella. Come on.”

Up I went, mindlessly like a zombie. The crinkling was even worse now. It made the noise every time I moved my legs at all. There was nothing discrete about this diaper. And it was incredibly bulky too, making it difficult to get my legs to go together.

I still couldn’t bear to look. I kept my eyes up and over to the side. I had no intention of seeing myself like that. None whatsoever.

“Let’s get your tights on, okay?” Like I had a choice.

My mother produced a pair of white tights. I saw them with my peripheral vision. They were hideous. So very white. She gathered up the left foot of the tights and had me hold onto her for balance as she crouched down. 

“Step in.” I did as I was told. “Good girl. Now the other foot.” I obeyed once more.

The tights were pulled up my legs, causing the strangest sensation I’ve ever felt. Those who have never worn hosiery will never understand how foreign it feels the first time you put them on. The tights are, well, tight, acting like a silky second skin. I wanted to hate it, but found myself getting slightly aroused. I denied it to myself at the time, but the feel of these turned me on… and not just a little.

Mother had to yank them up with some effort to get them to go over the thick diaper. She succeeded and pulled them the rest of the way, far past my belly button.

A small box had been placed by the bed on the floor. I hadn’t noticed it until she reached down for it. Placing it on the bed, she opened it up to reveal the weirdest shoes I had ever seen. They looked like high heeled versions of Mary Jane shoes that were so popular among parents wanting to make their babies look adorable or some shit. But heels? And not just little heels either. These looked to be about four inches tall, which would be ridiculously high considering my teensy little feet. They had ankle straps with miniscule padlocks attached.

“Mom,” I pleaded, “I can’t walk in those.”

“That’s rather the point. It means you’ll need to be carried. If we’re inside, you can crawl. Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll look so cute, just like a real baby.”

“But I’m NOT a real baby, Mom! I’m almost an adult!”

Mom nervously looked over her shoulder, clearly hoping that Dad didn’t hear my outburst. “You don’t want your daddy to give you another spanking do you?”

I just shook my head no.

“Okay then, give me your foot.” Having been thwarted again, I held my foot out so she could place one of these abominations on my foot. The other was added a second later. She sat me down before I had a chance to lose my balance.

“Now the dress,” she chirped, beaming with happiness. At least ONE of us was filled with fucking glee, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.

She pulled out a short, pink sundress with white flowers printed all over it. It was awful, but not nearly as over-the-top as I had feared. I expected something with lots of ruffles, puffy sleeves and the whole nine yards. She placed the dress over my head and pulled it down. It was kind of awkward since I was sitting down and couldn’t stand up, but she wrestled it all into place eventually.

The last nugget of humiliation came in the form of my mother mumbling that she “almost forgot” something, before taking a couple of hair ties out of one of the now-empty sacks. She deftly pulled my hair up into high pigtails that jutted straight out of my head. My hair wasn’t terribly long, but long enough for them to dangle down to about my chin line.

“Perfect,” she declared as she took a couple of steps back to survey her handiwork. “You look just like you did when you were a baby the first time. My little angel.” At least SOMEONE was happy.

“How am I supposed to get to the car, Mom?”

She sighed slightly and said, “From now on, you are to call me ‘Mommy’. No exceptions. ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?”

I just rolled my eyes.

“And to answer your question…” she trailed off her sentence and answered not with words, but with actions. She scooped me up into her arms and carried me more or less on her hip.

“Your daddy is just going to die of happiness when he sees how precious you look!”

That’s when it dawned on me. I was going out into public dressed like this. At that very moment, I wanted to just crawl under a rock and die. And just like that, with me in her arms, she walked enthusiastically toward the door.
 

Not only condoned, but encouraged. It is indeed a sick place for girls, but it allows for some really juicy psychological stories to be told.

yea I agree with that?

[Sarah Penguin]

[Baby Billy]

Very nice I remember she is about 4 feet so a carseat will really work.  Somehow chapter 8 was posted twice

[WBDaddy]

2 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

Very nice I remember she is about 4 feet so a carseat will really work.  Somehow chapter 8 was posted twice

No, it wasn't.  You quoted the entirety of chapter 8, so it looks like it was posted twice. 

This forum has a REALLY cool feature where you can just highlight a sentence or two of what someone said, like this: 

6 hours ago, CynthiaCM said:

“Mom,” I pleaded, “I can’t walk in those.”

...and a popup box will say "Quote selection" - so you can just quote what you wanted to reply to, instead of quoting the entire thing.  

Voila, no more

2 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

chapter 8 was posted twice

 

BTW - @CynthiaCM - I can't say I'm a huge fan of how you executed this.  

1) It's a hotel.  There's a non-zero chance that some Karen in the next room would have heard arguing back and forth with the word "Dad" (as opposed to "Daddy", which might indicate some kinky shit going on between two adults) involved, followed by a great deal of beating and crying, and called the cops for child abuse. 

2) Fact is, if she fought the cops as hard as you described, she would have been charged with disorderly conduct and resisting arrest, and her parents wouldn't have been able to whisk her off to Kansas the next day.  

3) Ignoring my first two objections, the zero-to-babygirl in one day seems really trope-ish.  I mean, I sorta get how the parents feel like they didn't raise her correctly in the first place, and that resetting in this weird new town that somehow gets to ignore national law about child abuse, age of self-determination, etc., is the right thing to do, but I can't help but feel like dragging her to the destination BEFORE dressing her up like an infant would have been the right way to go about this.  

All that said, I will continue reading to see how you do this.  Hopefully you'll turn it around some and maybe develop the destination scene as more than just a diapered teenager depot... 

[CynthiaCM]

26 minutes ago, WBDaddy said:

BTW - @CynthiaCM - I can't say I'm a huge fan of how you executed this.  

1) It's a hotel.  There's a non-zero chance that some Karen in the next room would have heard arguing back and forth with the word "Dad" (as opposed to "Daddy", which might indicate some kinky shit going on between two adults) involved, followed by a great deal of beating and crying, and called the cops for child abuse. 

2) Fact is, if she fought the cops as hard as you described, she would have been charged with disorderly conduct and resisting arrest, and her parents wouldn't have been able to whisk her off to Kansas the next day.  

3) Ignoring my first two objections, the zero-to-babygirl in one day seems really trope-ish.  I mean, I sorta get how the parents feel like they didn't raise her correctly in the first place, and that resetting in this weird new town that somehow gets to ignore national law about child abuse, age of self-determination, etc., is the right thing to do, but I can't help but feel like dragging her to the destination BEFORE dressing her up like an infant would have been the right way to go about this.  

All that said, I will continue reading to see how you do this.  Hopefully you'll turn it around some and maybe develop the destination scene as more than just a diapered teenager depot... 

Thanks for your critique. I'll address each point separately.

1) Valid point, to be sure. However, I have been in numerous motels and heard a lot of sketchy things going on without ever seeing the cops called. Only two times did I ever see the authorities brought in. Once was because I was the one who called them. People argue in motels all the time. Usually, you can't hear many individual words such as "Dad". In my experience, it mostly sounds muffled and indistinct. When the spanking was going on, Jo refused to cry or cry out, so that kind of noise was eliminated from the equation.

2) Without giving away spoilers, Lucas Budd has something to do with this. It will actually be addressed later on.

3) I wouldn't say she's zero-to-babygirl in one day. She was only temporarily defeated. Truthfully, she was in a state of shock. She just felt numb. There's plenty more fight in her, as you'll see in later installments. As for the clothes, her mother bought as childish looking of a dress as she could find off the rack, which was a fairly simple sun dress. That's why it wasn't poofy and frilly with all the trappings one would normally associate with adult baby clothes. I even mentioned in the text that Jo was surprised. They knew they had a trek ahead of them and didn't want to draw too much attention to her until they get to Preston. Then, all bets are off. And as you mentioned, doing this before getting to Preston probably wasn't the best idea for the parents to do. They're human and prone to emotion. In the heat of the moment, they went that route, which is why they didn't already have clothes purchased for her trip back. Her mother had to go shopping that morning.

The original creator of the setting fleshed out the setting quite a bit and I have taken those details and added to them to flesh it out more. It's not just a diapered teenager depot. In fact, forced babyhood makes up only a small fraction of what goes on there. It's patriarchal in every sense, but in many different ways... not just diapers/baby stuff. Lucas Budd has a great deal of influence to have made Preston into his own twisted utopia.

At any rate, I hope you end up liking the story. We're still in the beginning stages of it really and I have many plans.

 

 

[WBDaddy]

6 hours ago, CynthiaCM said:

Thanks for your critique. I'll address each point separately.

And thank you for your response.  Your counterpoints are valid and reasonable, and I'll definitely stay tuned.  

[CynthiaCM]

2 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

And thank you for your response.  Your counterpoints are valid and reasonable, and I'll definitely stay tuned.  

Much appreciated.

[CynthiaCM]

2 hours ago, Nicole Kolibri said:

For me, it was definitely not a hotel room, since their not yet on tour to Preston.
Or have i missed little thing?
So that must have happened in your old house or apartment.

It was a motel room. They were deep in the process of moving out of their own house when Jo rand away. They were renting the house and had to be out or else pay another month's rent. So they rented a cheap motel room until they could locate Jo. 

2 hours ago, Nicole Kolibri said:

But where I agree with you (WBDaddy) is the pace, a little slower would be more credible.
Jo / Joella is transformed too quickly, it happens at a pace that a rebellious teenager can´t not aczept.
Mom shaved her intimate and then put her, in to a diaper too.
If you want to break her quickly, so must you have restraint belt for her, so she have no chance. One spanking breaks not a rebellious girl.
But the place where this happens, somehow doesn't really fit.

I understand your thoughts on the matter. But please remember that it was all the way up to Chapter 7 and 8 before any of the punishment/babying stuff even happened. I don't feel I rushed into it too much. Of course, that's very subjective and I understand how some might feel that it was too quick. The parents are super new to all this and they were both angry and scared for her safety. These emotions can cause people to do things that wouldn't be advisable, such as jumping right into the diapering.

As for breaking her too fast, she is not broken. She was shellshocked by it all. Kind of just stunned into temporary submission. You'll see that she still has a LOT of fight left in her. I, personally, never cared for stories in which a character just gives in to everything right off the bat. I enjoy the mental turmoil of the main character. So rest assured that she has not given in, at least not in a permanent fashion. Everyone has their moments of strength and their moments of weakness. This was her moment of weakness, as so much had happened to her in just a short amount of time.

2 hours ago, Nicole Kolibri said:

@Chynthia
The clothes for her are really great.
I like it very much that you have done without these usual childish ruffle dresses.
The white tights make her clarify their status que more than enough.
I like this combination very much.

Especially the delicate allusion that it will turn it on her.

Thank you. I was trying to get across that dressing her this way before they got to Preston was a sudden decision the parents made.

2 hours ago, Nicole Kolibri said:

Most stories keep saying, "Pay attention to your language, littel girl or littel boy."

Why is hardly anyone doing this in the reviews?

I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean here.

 

Thanks for the reply as always.  

[kerry]

The only significant plot element that gave me any trouble was the fact that Jo did not think to contact any authorities (not even the police who helped find her) to explain what was happening. Even if you go along with the dubious notion that she has no autonomy at all until her 18th birthday, she still has legal rights. And those rights are about to be utterly stripped away by relocating to Preston. It feels hard to comprehend why a seemingly bright near-adult would not at least attempt to find legal representation that would call attention to this enclave of illegal and unconstitutional discrimination. In America, no one is ever the property of another person, not since we got rid of slavery. 

Now I realize that this is an underlying problem with the entire premise of what Preston is, which (if I recall the initial story correctly) was mitigated (somewhat) by its secretive existence. (What happens in Preston stays in Preston.) But here it is clearly less secrecy about it. And if Jo called them on their patriarchal BS, she would have the law on her side. 

I'm enjoying the story. (I tend to grant the author her premise no matter how out there it might be.) I just don't really understand why Jo never even considers the fact that she is American.

[CynthiaCM]

20 minutes ago, kerry said:

The only significant plot element that gave me any trouble was the fact that Jo did not think to contact any authorities (not even the police who helped find her) to explain what was happening. Even if you go along with the dubious notion that she has no autonomy at all until her 18th birthday, she still has legal rights. And those rights are about to be utterly stripped away by relocating to Preston. It feels hard to comprehend why a seemingly bright near-adult would not at least attempt to find legal representation that would call attention to this enclave of illegal and unconstitutional discrimination. In America, no one is ever the property of another person, not since we got rid of slavery. 

Now I realize that this is an underlying problem with the entire premise of what Preston is, which (if I recall the initial story correctly) was mitigated (somewhat) by its secretive existence. (What happens in Preston stays in Preston.) But here it is clearly less secrecy about it. And if Jo called them on their patriarchal BS, she would have the law on her side. 

I'm enjoying the story. (I tend to grant the author her premise no matter how out there it might be.) I just don't really understand why Jo never even considers the fact that she is American.

You raise interesting points, most of which I had considered. Perhaps I should have integrated it into Jo's internal monologue. In fact, I really wish I had in retrospect.

But to address the issue of why Jo never contacted the authorities, she has had nothing but trouble from the police. This was established in (I believe) Chapter 1. She doesn't trust them, nor does she like them. To her, they are the enemy. They would just side with her parents anyway. In the case of the police that caught her, you'll later learn that they weren't to be trusted. They are tied in directly to Lucas Budd.

Speaking of Lucas Budd and Preston, we all know that Preston couldn't possibly exist in the real world. It just couldn't happen. However, Lucas Budd is no ordinary person. He not only has dirt on or is owed extreme favors by those in the highest of offices in government, he also has certain abilities over the mind. Not outright mind control, but let's just say that when he speaks, what he says just starts to somehow make absolute sense to those he speaks to. No matter how outlandish. There is a little bit of the whole "What happens in Preston stays in Preston" thing going on as well, but it's not extremely secretive. It's just that the folks who find out about how extreme it is and plan to do something about it either disappear or mysteriously change their tune about the place after a visit or a heart-to-heart interview with Lucas.

Lastly, remember that we look at the world through the maturity of being adults. Jo isn't quite an adult yet and lacks our worldly experience. Plus, she's very intelligent, but not terribly mature for her age. Just look at some of the decisions she has already made in the story.

I hope this clears things up a little. 

[kerry]

Nice reply. I'm looking forward to the next installment. ?

[CynthiaCM]

10 minutes ago, Nicole Kolibri said:

No, I don't mean this pace, nor do I believe that WBDaddy meant that.
It's the 7 and 8 chapter that feels like I'm on the highway in the left lane.

Ah, I see what you mean. The pacing of that was intentional, to reflect how fast it all seemed to be moving for Jo. I may have gone overboard with that though.

12 minutes ago, Nicole Kolibri said:

But you have now expressed your aspect of the inner anger and disappointment of the parents well.
I just wish you had the parents interact more with each other in your story.
So that the anger and disappointment of the parents become more apparent.

That would then make their consequent behavior appear in a somewhat better light.
At the moment I read it for the first time it seemed like arbitrary malice to me, despite the fact that the father listed Jo's offenses.

I love it when you can identify with both the daughter and the parent.
At the moment this is only possible with the daughter, but the "Preston fabric" allows so much more scope that there is even room and time for the parents and other characters.

The parents have only recently been introduced as full characters. As the chapters roll on, you'll be seeing them fleshed out as fully realized characters. They tend to interact quite a bit actually. Just at that point in time, her mother's submissive nature caused her to step back and let him take charge. The chapter I'm working on now already has some good interaction between them. By the time the story gets rolling along, you'll come to understand the parents; point of view. 

15 minutes ago, Nicole Kolibri said:

Don´t misundertstand me, I like your story so far.

And please do not understand this as a criticism, but rather as a tip to make your character, a bit more colorful at the moment everything is black and white.

I'm always happy to have critiques. It's the only way a story can ever be improved.

16 minutes ago, Nicole Kolibri said:

Most stories keep saying, "Attention to your language, littel girl or littel boy."

Why is hardly anyone doing this in the reviews?

Attention to your choice of "words", ....... be more careful with the word "abuse"!

And we can all live a little more relaxed.

your don quijote ....  i feel a little like fighting against with windmills.
I know it, I can only lost, but hope dies last.

Oh, okay. I see what you mean. 

[CynthiaCM]

CHAPTER 9

The world looked so different from the backseat of the car. It’s not that I haven’t sat back there before, but somehow it was different when I was dressed the way I was and treated like a child by my parents. My father didn’t say much. I held out hope that he was starting to reconsider this whole thing now that it was actually starting to happen. Did he see how ridiculous I looked and start to get cold feet? Who knows? Maybe. In the end, we know that if those thoughts danced around in his brain, nothing ever came of them. Otherwise, I would be at the end of the story I’m telling you rather than at the beginning.

But what about Mom? I felt no sign of remorse emanating from her. Quite the opposite, really. You see, she really wanted another baby after Megan was born, but Dad put his foot down. Two kids were plenty. She would sometimes try to tempt him by saying stuff like “but don’t you want a son?” He was never that easy to goad, though, so they never had more children. My suspicion was that Mom saw this machination of theirs as a way of finally getting to have another baby… even if the baby wasn’t a real one. One thing was for sure: she sure got into the swing of things right out of the gate. 

The first hour of the trip consisted primarily of my mother talking about how nice it was going to be to have a baby in the house and how she couldn’t wait to start our new lives and so and and so on and so on. I think the way she went on and on about it started to get on my dad’s nerves though. Just an observation. 

I finally managed to muster up the courage to look down at myself. I looked ridiculous. I was never seen without blue jeans, tee shirt and tennis shoes, yet here I was in a pink, flowery sundress, tights and weird heels. Speaking of the shoes, where on earth did my mother find these? It’s not like she could have found something like that at a shoe store. I mean, I could just see it now. ‘Pardon me, miss, do you happen to have any Mary Jane shoes with skyscraper heels and padlocks on the straps?’ And I certainly can’t imagine my mother going into a fetish shop. That’s just not something she would be capable of doing. She’d die of embarrassment. 

All I knew is that I hated what I saw when I looked at the clothes I was wearing.

I was, however, grateful for one thing: my urge to defecate had completely subsided. I didn’t even hear my stomach rumbling anymore. I just hoped that things would stay that way.

We drove down I-70 for almost eight hours with minimal stops for food, gas and bathroom breaks for my parents. I wasn’t so lucky. I purposely ate and drank very little while on the road, so as to avoid using the diaper. It was close to seven o’clock when we pulled into the parking lot of a motel for the night. According to Dad, we were just outside of Effingham, Illinois. 

I unbuckled myself and opened the car door, sparing myself the indignity of having my parents do it for me. I couldn’t go anywhere, of course, due to the stupid shoes, but I basked in that little morsel of autonomy. 

This time it was my father who carried me and as we crossed the parking lot, we drew the attention of a family who were unloading bags from the back of their SUV. They gawked without even trying to hide it. I’m not sure exactly what drew their attention, as I probably passed for an 8-year-old in that outfit and with the sun’s fading rays. Maybe it was the shoes. Seriously, they really stood out. I looked like a child wearing shoes designed for adults. No kid I’ve ever seen wore high heels of this nature, regardless of the fact that they were styled to look like Mary Janes. Plus, I guess it would seem odd for a parent to carry an eight-year-old.

My mother didn’t appear to notice the family and if my father did, he didn’t show it. We entered the lobby and he sat me on one of the chairs so he could get his wallet out. “Stay right there, Joella,” he said softly, but with a hint of sternness. My mother sat down in the adjacent chair and smiled at me. No other customers were inside the lobby, which I was elated about. I didn’t want anyone to see me looking like this.

Dad talked to the middle-aged lady with obnoxiously red hair at the front desk and paid for the room with his card before prompting us to follow him. Mom picked me up and followed on his heels. 

Our room was on the second floor and was significantly nicer than the previous motel room. Bigger too, though not by much. Once Dad retrieved the luggage from the car, he mentioned that he needed to call my aunt and uncle to see how things were going in Preston.

“Maybe we can go to a restaurant and have a nice family supper after you make the phone call,” my mother offered. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lillian. People may take exception to all this,” he said as he gestured toward me, the bags with my new clothes and the diaper bag that I had only now noticed. 

“I think she passes as a little girl. She’s small and is certainly dressed appropriately.”

I would have spoken up and refused to go, but I had to pick my battles and there was no way in hell my mom was going to get her way on this. So I let it ride, knowing the end result would be in my favor anyway.

“I’d rather not risk any complications.” He saw the disappointed look on her face and softened his voice. “Look, sweetheart, I’d like to have a family supper in a nice restaurant too, but there will be plenty of chances to do that once we’re in Preston. It’s not worth the risk. Lucas can’t really protect us out here if things get hairy.”

My mother was slightly more contrary than usual. “Well, he made sure the police officers that accompanied us to that old house were okay with everything we’re doing.”

That explained a lot. I was curious to hear Dad’s reaction.

“That’s because he made some calls and greased some palms. He can’t keep doing that for us just so we can go out for dinner.”

“Mr. Budd wants you in Preston. I heard him tell you that. That’s why he offered you such a good deal on the building. He would help us out again if it came to it.”

“That’s not the point,” my father said with a tinge of irritation in his voice, “I don’t want to fall out of his good graces by pestering him to help us get out of situations that are avoidable. Let’s order in tonight, okay? We’ll go to a restaurant in Preston once we’re settled in. fair enough?”

My mother was still disappointed, but nodded her consent.

I just wanted to know what building she was talking about. I figured I’d ask later.

The pizza they ordered was fine, but I only nibbled at it, a fact that didn’t escape my mother. She was always keenly observant of these things. It was like some kind of useless superpower or some shit. 

“Joella,” she said in that motherly tone she achieves, “you haven’t been eating much at all since we left Pittsburgh. Now that I think about it, you haven’t used Number One or Number Two yet either. I’m starting to worry.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said in an obstinate tone. 

“Sweetie, you’re going to have to get some food in your tummy or you’re going to get sick.”

My father put two and two together and came up with four. He addressed my mother, “She’s not eating because she doesn’t want to use her diaper. Simple as that.”

He then turned to me. “I’ll let you have this victory. You can go use the potty until we reach Preston. But there’s a condition. If I do this for you, I expect you to behave, okay? Traveling is stressful, especially since I’m the one driving. I don’t need sass from you when my concentration needs to be on the road so we arrive safely. Deal?”

I nodded. At this point, I would have agreed to do just about anything to avoid using this diaper. 

“Go on then. Go to the bathroom.”

I didn’t need to be told twice and darted in there as quickly as I could, in case he somehow changed his mind. Even though the need to pee and poop had largely gone away, I still knew it had to be done. It was a pain to get the tights and diaper down, but I wasn’t complaining. Getting them back up was an even bigger pain in the butt.

When I exited the bathroom, I walked in on a conversation about how things were going back in Preston. They thought I was still in the bathroom.

My father did most of the talking since he was the one who made the phone call earlier. “No, Jimmy said everything was okay on that front.”

“Nothing was broken?” she asked.

“He said one of the lamps had taken a bit of a tumble so it had a crack, but it’s still usable.”

She replied, “I can turn that part toward the wall or something. It’ll be okay. How is Megan?”

“They both said she has been a huge help through all this. She was worried about Joella to the point of being sick but started feeling better after I called from the hospital. According to Jimmy, she was hesitant about her new role as the official big sister, but after seeing what Joella did and all she put everyone through, she’s completely on board for it. In fact, she even spent her allowance to buy Joella some cute stuff, including a dress.”

“Isn’t that sweet of her? Maybe this will help Megan feel better about the move.”

I was furious! Sure, Megan had been put in charge of me for quite a while, but this felt different, like I was absolutely going to be treated like a baby by her. And to think that she’d be so into it that she’d buy me baby shit! 

I was inclined to burst their bubble by verbally ripping them a new asshole, but I knew that wouldn’t be the smart play. A plan was forming in the back of my brain. I wouldn’t just allow this to happen. I was not going to reach Preston, come hell or high water. I would escape this mess that night, because I knew deep down that it would be all over once we get to that damnable town. No, this plan was going to work. It HAD to work.

My whole life depended upon it. 
 

[Baby Billy]

nice chapter, I wonder if his wife know that in that town if she behaves like she was in the motel he could just lift her skirt and take his belt to her and no one would bat an eye.  Really the man of the house can treat any women in his care as he wants.

[CynthiaCM]

1 hour ago, Baby Billy said:

nice chapter, I wonder if his wife know that in that town if she behaves like she was in the motel he could just lift her skirt and take his belt to her and no one would bat an eye.  Really the man of the house can treat any women in his care as he wants.

Thank you.

She's quite aware of the rules in Preston. She's generally quite submissive, so she was all for moving there. But, yes, he could have spanked her lawfully had they been in Preston. That said, there are laws that protect women from excessive punishment in the town. Granted, those restrictions aren't much, but they prevent beatings and extreme things like that.

[Baby Billy]

22 minutes ago, CynthiaCM said:

Thank you.

She's quite aware of the rules in Preston. She's generally quite submissive, so she was all for moving there. But, yes, he could have spanked her lawfully had they been in Preston. That said, there are laws that protect women from excessive punishment in the town. Granted, those restrictions aren't much, but they prevent beatings and extreme things like that.

yea I know one of Bud,s rule you can't whip your wife with anything thinner than your thumb

[Diaperingdaddy]

Great updates! i look forward to more!