Unfair: A Diaper Dimension Novel (Chapters 115 Uploaded!)

[YourFNF]

Honestly on the one hand Clark is just digging himself deeper. On the other hand he said pretty much exactly what I would have.....

Also not going to lie having a guy get involved would be a berserk button in a way that getting this treatment from another woman or an enby just wouldn't be......

Probably cause of like personal trust issues around men, combined with cranking the power imbalance to 20

Like any guy without an MD after his name who takes my diaper off is automatically getting his life and career nuked is all I'm saying cause even if nothing technically happened by the standards of this society'; I still did not consent to that....

Probably also why I would try to at least negotiate some ground rules on diapers if I had a Janet.... So like it doesn't come to the point where I have a whole new flavor of trauma on top of everything else and have to go nuclear on principal...

Like "I won't fight you on this as long as we have some ground rules on it... Top of the list. I only get changed by you or other girls we know and trust..."

[something101]

I get the feeling we're going to see Cassie soonish 

[Tailie]

“You know what, Clark? I like you. You’re really lucky to have Janet as your Mommy, you know that?”

I’d tried to be nice. I really tried.  Something about that last comment just set me off.

“Lucky?” I hissed.  “You think I’m lucky?  I leaned in, no longer caring that some poor server was going to have to run a mop over my chair.  “You think this is lucky?  I used to be married.  I used to have a job.  A fucking career! I used to do things! Things that fucking mattered!  Maybe it wasn’t as important as I pretended it was in the big scheme of things but it mattered to me damnit!  But all of that is gone. Fucking gone! And I’m stuck here! With you! Waiting on the woman who snatched me up to get back with a new fucking diaper! I can’t dress myself! I can’t feed myself! I can’t even go to the fucking bathroom anymore! And it’s got nothing to do with some bullshit disease that doesn’t exist, it’s because people like you won’t let me! You’re not helping Littles, you’re just lying to yourself so you can kidnap us and pat yourself on the back at the same time!”

It all came out bullet quick.  I didn’t cry this time but I was still beet red and panting by the end of it.  It might have started as a hiss and a whisper but by the end it was shotgun loud and the rest of the restaurant had gone deathly silent.  They’d made themselves an audience to the melodrama of the evening.

Janet came in. All eyes were instantly on her. Scorn and pity and loathing radiated from the other giants.  So-called parents muttering about how their so-called children never talked this way to them or any other ‘adult’..

“I’m back…” Janet puffed out of breath.  “She saw the look of absolute hurt and terror in Mark’s face.” I had done that. Me.  I was too angry to show it but I felt kind of proud.  This was the face that had made Zoge cry.  I still had it!  “What happened?”  

The giant douche canoe stood up..  “I gotta go.”  

“Why?”

Mark didn’t answer.  He just went right to the waitress and dug out his wallet.  

Janet went into autopilot and got me out of the chair and took me to the bathroom to change me. No talking. No cooing. No humming.  Definitely no humming.

Mark had already left the restaurant when Janet had finished with me.  The waitress said he’d paid for all of us.  No one in the restaurant was talking, only pointing and whispering.

We didn’t talk on the ride back.  No music, either. Not even Tot Rox.  Janet tried calling Mark a couple times but it went straight to voicemail.  Her messages were all apologies and asking what was said or what happened.  She never got a call back.

We got back to Janet’s house and she dressed me into jammies and tucked me into bed without a kiss.

Still no talking.  From either of us.

She left the nursery. In the stillness and quiet of everything I could hear her start to sob walking down the hallway.  It almost sounded like she was bawling out the word “Why?” over and over again.

“What?” I asked her through the baby monitor. “It’s not my fault he’s a total douche!”
  
Mark never showed up to another Little Voices meeting ever again.

I think this sums up his situation quite well. Clark was venting and rightfully so. You can argue, oh he's being a jerk, but given the character and what he's going through it's all so understandable. You can argue Janet saved him from a fate worse than death, sure, but the fact that she didn't instantly free him when she got the chance proves she is 100% in the wrong and continues to do so.

[Panther Cub]

36 minutes ago, Tailie said:

“You know what, Clark? I like you. You’re really lucky to have Janet as your Mommy, you know that?”

I’d tried to be nice. I really tried.  Something about that last comment just set me off.

“Lucky?” I hissed.  “You think I’m lucky?  I leaned in, no longer caring that some poor server was going to have to run a mop over my chair.  “You think this is lucky?  I used to be married.  I used to have a job.  A fucking career! I used to do things! Things that fucking mattered!  Maybe it wasn’t as important as I pretended it was in the big scheme of things but it mattered to me damnit!  But all of that is gone. Fucking gone! And I’m stuck here! With you! Waiting on the woman who snatched me up to get back with a new fucking diaper! I can’t dress myself! I can’t feed myself! I can’t even go to the fucking bathroom anymore! And it’s got nothing to do with some bullshit disease that doesn’t exist, it’s because people like you won’t let me! You’re not helping Littles, you’re just lying to yourself so you can kidnap us and pat yourself on the back at the same time!”

It all came out bullet quick.  I didn’t cry this time but I was still beet red and panting by the end of it.  It might have started as a hiss and a whisper but by the end it was shotgun loud and the rest of the restaurant had gone deathly silent.  They’d made themselves an audience to the melodrama of the evening.

Janet came in. All eyes were instantly on her. Scorn and pity and loathing radiated from the other giants.  So-called parents muttering about how their so-called children never talked this way to them or any other ‘adult’..

“I’m back…” Janet puffed out of breath.  “She saw the look of absolute hurt and terror in Mark’s face.” I had done that. Me.  I was too angry to show it but I felt kind of proud.  This was the face that had made Zoge cry.  I still had it!  “What happened?”  

The giant douche canoe stood up..  “I gotta go.”  

“Why?”

Mark didn’t answer.  He just went right to the waitress and dug out his wallet.  

Janet went into autopilot and got me out of the chair and took me to the bathroom to change me. No talking. No cooing. No humming.  Definitely no humming.

Mark had already left the restaurant when Janet had finished with me.  The waitress said he’d paid for all of us.  No one in the restaurant was talking, only pointing and whispering.

We didn’t talk on the ride back.  No music, either. Not even Tot Rox.  Janet tried calling Mark a couple times but it went straight to voicemail.  Her messages were all apologies and asking what was said or what happened.  She never got a call back.

We got back to Janet’s house and she dressed me into jammies and tucked me into bed without a kiss.

Still no talking.  From either of us.

She left the nursery. In the stillness and quiet of everything I could hear her start to sob walking down the hallway.  It almost sounded like she was bawling out the word “Why?” over and over again.

“What?” I asked her through the baby monitor. “It’s not my fault he’s a total douche!”
  
Mark never showed up to another Little Voices meeting ever again.

I think this sums up his situation quite well. Clark was venting and rightfully so. You can argue, oh he's being a jerk, but given the character and what he's going through it's all so understandable. You can argue Janet saved him from a fate worse than death, sure, but the fact that she didn't instantly free him when she got the chance proves she is 100% in the wrong and continues to do so.

I do have to wonder if this means Janet will finally realize just how deep Clark's hatred for what has happened and for her actually is?

I mean, that Mark guy just gave up after one, granted major, negative interaction with Clark. And not just with Janet, but also with Little Voices and possibly with "adopting" a little of his own. In this world where Amazons taking a Little and making them their surrogate baby/toddler is the norm, most Amazons would just chalk this up to a tantrum, especially since he had just had a "blowout". But Clark managed to strike a nerve with this guy.

And I agree, he was justified in doing so, considering all that he's been through. This is all just such an interesting take on a DD story!

[Tailie]

9 hours ago, Panther Cub said:

I do have to wonder if this means Janet will finally realize just how deep Clark's hatred for what has happened and for her actually is?

I mean, that Mark guy just gave up after one, granted major, negative interaction with Clark. And not just with Janet, but also with Little Voices and possibly with "adopting" a little of his own. In this world where Amazons taking a Little and making them their surrogate baby/toddler is the norm, most Amazons would just chalk this up to a tantrum, especially since he had just had a "blowout". But Clark managed to strike a nerve with this guy.

And I agree, he was justified in doing so, considering all that he's been through. This is all just such an interesting take on a DD story!

I know you! I love your stories!

Also, yeah. Maybe Mark was just that dumb and thought littles liked all the treatment until he heard Clark speak. Imagine having your world rocked and finding out that some littles actually hate the treatment and see it like their life is ruined.

[Panther Cub]

4 minutes ago, Tailie said:

I know you! I love your stories!

Also, yeah. Maybe Mark was just that dumb and thought littles liked all the treatment until he heard Clark speak. Imagine having your world rocked and finding out that some littles actually hate the treatment and see it like their life is ruined.

O.O

Blush Thank you!

I imagine that that could be quite the revelation for someone like Mark. Perhaps he had heard from non-adopted Littles about their negative views on adoption and their thoughts on Matureosis, and in his head just thought that it was a bias on their part, and that the unfortunate ones with the disorder come to see how much better off or slip into the role they need in this new transition of life really are much happier with their lot in life after they've had some time to adjust. Then Mark comes along, who's been adopted for a while now and while a little fussy but should be fitting into his new baby role now, and then unleashes that tirade.

[BabySerenity]

Is there gonna be more to your story??

[Guilend]

i can’t wait for the new chapter on Patreon. If you want to support the author and read, I think 10 more chapters (?) he does have a Patreon and it has more stories then this on there. 

[TerranV]

21 minutes ago, Guilend said:

i can’t wait for the new chapter on Patreon. If you want to support the author and read, I think 10 more chapters (?) he does have a Patreon and it has more stories then this on there. 

Patreon is 30 chapters ahead I believe.

But yeah I would recommend his patreon.

[Guilend]

4 minutes ago, TerranV said:

Patreon is 30 chapters ahead I believe.

But yeah I would recommend his patreon.

Lol thanks. I haven’t actually kept track of his posts here since I read it on the Patreon 

[Babyqtboy]

5 hours ago, TerranV said:

Patreon is 30 chapters ahead I believe.

But yeah I would recommend his patreon.

30 more chapters of this? It’s been going no where for the last 30 chapters as it is ?

[something101]

5 hours ago, Babyqtboy said:

30 more chapters of this? It’s been going no where for the last 30 chapters as it is ?

It's giving a picture of Clark's life as an adopted little with little yet important details, I'd imagine that they'll add up and eventually we'll see how they make it bigger than it seems.

[TerranV]

7 hours ago, Babyqtboy said:

30 more chapters of this? It’s been going no where for the last 30 chapters as it is ?

I wouldn't want to spoil anything... but its not going nowhere.

I'll grant its a slow burn but its worth it I think.

[WBDaddy]

10 hours ago, Babyqtboy said:

30 more chapters of this? It’s been going no where for the last 30 chapters as it is ?

There's no shortage of stories around here that blow their wads in the first chapter if that's your preference.  This isn't that kind of story. 

[Personalias]

10 hours ago, Babyqtboy said:

30 more chapters of this? It’s been going no where for the last 30 chapters as it is ?

You're free to not read. 

18 hours ago, BabySerenity said:

Is there gonna be more to your story??

You've asked this before and I think someone answered you already.  

[Babyqtboy]

25 minutes ago, WBDaddy said:

There's no shortage of stories around here that blow their wads in the first chapter if that's your preference.  This isn't that kind of story. 

No, I prefer good long stories that are well written, and this started off as a good story. In fact I loved that there was hardly any diaper content in the first 1/2 and it felt like the story was going somewhere. 

 

22 minutes ago, Personalias said:

You're free to not read. 

 

No offense, because I genuinely love your writing and your characters and stories, but I pretty much gave up on this story about 15-20 chapters ago. It just seems to be in a repetitive loop. 

[Personalias]

1 minute ago, Babyqtboy said:

No, I prefer good long stories that are well written, and this started off as a good story. In fact I loved that there was hardly any diaper content in the first 1/2 and it felt like the story was going somewhere. 

 

No offense, because I genuinely love your writing and your characters and stories, but I pretty much gave up on this story about 15-20 chapters ago. It just seems to be in a repetitive loop. 

And you are free not to read this. 

[Cute_Kitten]

There's plenty- a ton, really- of things going on here. Let's see, we've got world development, loads of character development and Clark's emotional journey. Each update is a piece to the puzzle that is Clark, and for some of the things that happen ahead it's important to understand Clark's mental and emotional states. This isn't a wham-bam-happy fappy in the nappy kind of story. So much of the plot comes from the characters, and the characters here are three dimensional, well developed and have depth. From the start this has been a slow-burn type story. That hasn't changed. The tone and pace have remained consistent throughout the story.  Clark has been on a roller coaster journey. There's plenty of action and drama- and when it hits it's a hurricane. But before that there's build up and tension. The characters have reasons for the things they do and emotions behind those reasons. 

[Samriis]

Well said!

[Moon3ye]

I'm not always a fan of every chapter because Clark often annoys me.

But I like the overall concept of the story.

You can tell that the author is going somewhere with his story and he also has a plan that will unfold at some point in the end and I like that.

Also, I still hope that maturity is a real thing in this version of DD and that Clark really suffers from it and just doesn't realize it and we don't necessarily realize it either because we experience the story from his point of view.

And towards the end we see some key moments from someone else's perspective and realize that he really does have maturity.

Oh and I really hope Cassie escaped and didn't end up with some crazy Amazon mother who regressed with hypnosis because that would be really unfair just because Clark can't keep his pants clean that Cassie has to suffer because of it.

[Personalias]

Chapter 85: The Big Quiet

Janet shut down the next day.  I expected her to be extra clingy to me after her date went wrong with Douchey Horseface Pukerton, aka. ‘Mark’.  I automatically expected her to do terrible, horrible things like cuddle me harder, or impulse buy some Amazon gadget or gizmo that would ‘accidentally’ reinforce her view of me as a baby or whatever.

But no. She picked me up out of my crib.  She laid me down.  She changed me.  Then picked me up.  Super quick.  No declaration of “All done” or any of those stupid songs she’d memorized from Little Voices meetings.  And she didn’t talk.

I was anticipating another condescending condemnation.  Some speech about how I’d crossed a line or needed to accept things as they were and she was my Mommy and that she loved me, but I needed something adjusted for my own good.  Maybe she’d take away my shirt and shoes, and just leave me in Monkeez that she’d drawn numbers on the back so that people would know how many diapers I’d used that particular day.  Seemed like a twisted but logical step.

That didn’t happen.  She put me in the kitchen highchair and locked me in.  She went to the refrigerator, took out a carton of goat’s milk that she’d had delivered, and filled a baby bottle up. Then she tightened it, and filled a bowl of cereal, that badly needed some raisins or banana slices, with the same carton and put the milk away.

“Here,” she said, handing it to me.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“You’re welcome.”

None of the chirpiness or cheeriness was in her voice that was normally present in our interactions.  Everything was flat and robotic.  Fuck ‘robotic’, I’d seen UsBox prank videos of malfunctioning nanny robots that had more inflection in their soundcards.

I downed the bottle of goat milk, while Janet ate her cereal at the table. She looked at me, taking her time to eat the cereal, but the way she looked at me:  It wasn’t hate or fear. Not really.  Even now I struggle to put into words what I saw behind those eyes.  It was like her mouth was chewing slowly, but her mind was replaying and reliving last night. 

More than that last night.  More like she was silently going over every interaction we’d ever had, and quietly reviewing and puzzling out what was sincere, what was manipulation, what was emotion, what was impulse, what was calculated lies, and so on and so forth; literally questioning everything and very likely coming up with so many frustrating conclusions.  Probably silently chewing me out.

In short, Janet looked how I felt most days.

Silent and brooding, Janet finished her cereal, rinsed her bowl out in the sink and approached me.  “All done?”

“Yeah.”  I made my voice almost as monotone as hers.

“Want any more?”

“Not right now, thank you.”

She took me out of the highchair, set me down on my feet and said,  “You can go play.”

And that was it.  No suggestions. No annoying pat on the butt.  Not even a smile.  Her lips just kept fidgeting and twisting like it couldn’t decide, kind of like when someone is on the verge of laughing and trying to stop from bursting out.  No laughter though…

So I went and played.  I fiddled with the toys that I was physically able to fiddle with, made up imaginary stories where I was taking my vengeance against Beouf or the therapists or Brollish. I thumbed through some garbage ‘baby books’ in the nursery so that I could scoff at them. Played on the indoor playset.

Really boring, really.  Really boring without Janet trying to coax me into something or being ever present so that I was conscious about what she was seeing or what I was doing.  She was leaving me alone.  Not entirely, mind you; every twenty minutes or so she’d poke her head around a corner to make sure I wasn’t doing anything she considered bad, but she showed no interest or curiosity in my activities beyond that.

No diaper checks, either.

At eleven that morning,  I waddled up to her cutting up fruit and putting it in a bowl. “Janet,” I said.  “Can you change me, please?”  

She didn’t so much as bend over.  Her eyes glanced over my padded crotch. She lightly sniffed the air.  “No.  You’re okay,” she said.  “I’ll change you after lunch.”

So much for ‘please’ having magical properties. Fine. If she wanted to play hardball, so be it.  “If I need to go to the bathroom and tell you, will you take me?”

“No.”  Janet had already turned back to her cutting board and was slicing up strawberries.

“Why not?” I asked.

“You know why.”   And that appeared to be that.

Lunch was fruit salad on my tray and goat milk in my bottle.  True to her word, Janet changed me as quickly and efficiently as before.  No talking or singing. No nothing.  The afternoon went the same as the morning.  Not once did she pull me into her lap on the couch or try to entice me with Muffet reruns. 

It was…odd.  The quiet was disquieting.

It’s not like she was abusive or neglectful or anything.  Technically, she wasn’t even being mean. She was just on her phone.  Or in her head.  Or flipping through a teacher guide, jotting down lesson plans.  Just quiet.

“Can I help with that?”  I offered.  If I knew what subject she was covering in Math I might have a better way to cover up my meddling.

Her eyes didn’t even reach me. “No thanks.  Go play.”

So yeah.  That was that. That was Sunday.  So-called playtime.  Another change.  Dinner. Bath. Bed.

“Night,” Janet said once she’d plopped me into the crib.

“Janet?”  I called out. She stopped in the doorway and turned back around.  Laying in the crib and looking at her through the bars, I took a deep breath.  “About yesterday,” I said.  “I’m sorry.”  A strange feeling of cognitive dissonance rang out inside me. I was definitely lying so that she’d relax and forgive me, but for some reason it felt wrong.  Like I was lying about something else. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know.”

She turned off the lights.

I sat up.  “What do you mean you know?”  It wasn’t quite that monotone that I’d heard all day. Sounded sadder, yet there was a not-quite alien undercurrent to it. Like her definition of ‘sorry’ and ‘mine’ were different and only one of us knew it.  

***********************************************************************
The quiet didn’t stop on Monday.  Janet got me up, got me dressed, and took me back to Beouf’s room with nary a word.

Just “Morning, Janet.”

Then “Morning, Clark.”

Then off to school. 

Dropped me off and left me without so much as a goodbye.  When she came into Beouf’s room later that day, her mind was clearly somewhere else.  I kept catching her staring at the clock.  She loomed over me, but didn’t hover or participate in any of the activities.  At the end of her time, she just left.

That afternoon after school, I thought she was finally starting to get over ‘the Mark thing’ as I was beginning to think of it, when she picked me up and started talking to Beouf.

“He was a little bit mouthy with some of his friends today, but he only needed one reminder each time,” Beouf reported.  “That's an improvement.”  Beouf hadn’t let her professionalism slip, either.  I now had two ex-friends that were holding back on me all the time.

Good?

The first smile I’d seen from Janet in close to forty-eight hours blossomed.  “That’s good,” she said.  She sounded happy. Relieved even. I allowed myself a big cheesy grin, too.  I’d been ‘good’, but it was mostly because my mind was on other things.

They started walking towards Janet’s room, continuing the conversation with one another and me just along for the ride. They made small talk about television that was on after I’d been locked away in my crib, and about Beouf’s granddaughter, Emma. Nothing much to report there, she wasn’t quite two months, so very much still at that newborn blob stage of life. 

Janet opened the door to her room and Beouf followed us inside. “So, picture day is Friday,” Beouf said, “I wanted to talk to you about it real quick.”

Janet didn’t put me in the playpen, right away.  She held onto me, holding me like I was the one who didn’t want to be put down.   “Okay,” she said. “What’s up?”  

The existence of Picture Day itself wasn’t a surprise. Of course Janet knew it was coming.  Every teacher in the school knew picture day was near.  No doubt half a dozen emails had already gone out as reminders for teachers to sign their class up for a listed time slot.  That and the Fall Festival were constantly being harped on this time of year.  

Janet had her own students to shuffle one at a time in front of a photographer trying to get kids to sit in uncomfortable, unnatural poses and smile at the same time.  Who the heck sat with their legs in profile but turned their upper body so that it was facing forward?  I never got that.  Nor did my students…literally.  

“Nothing much. Just a quick aside. I know this is your first year with me,” Beouf went on, “but I suggest sending some extra clothes with him on Friday.  My class always goes first and fancy baby clothes look nice, but they don’t play nice if you know what I mean.  So we always get them lined up, take the pictures, and then dress them in something more comfortable for the rest of the day.”

Janet bobbed me up and down like I was a fussy toddler, even though I wasn’t trying to say anything. “I was thinking the sailor suit he wore on his first day.”  

Great. That monstrosity.  

Beouf squealed a little bit.  “Oh that would be so cute!” She looked at me, and then seemed to catch herself, embarrassed.  She’d let her guard down for a second and she knew it.

“Shorts or no shorts?” Janet asked.   

My old mentor looked at me and sized me up.  She remembered herself, and adopted that more formal, more detached demeanor she’d been presenting lately.   “Honestly? If he continues to show improvement this week, I think he could come to school with the shorts on. We can evaluate more from there.”   Beouf cocked her head and eyeballed a stack of graded papers ready to be handed back, on Janet’s desk.

“Okay…” Janet seemed hesitant, like she was hoping that Beouf would have definitively forbade me from having even a bit of modesty back.  Beouf clearly still thought of me as a toddler.  By the time Friday rolled around, my legs would have been bare for a week and a half; an eternity in toddler time.

“But it’s your call, really,” Beouf looked up from the papers. “He’d still look fine in just the top half.  He wouldn’t be the first Little dressed like that on Picture Day. Just don’t put him in a diaper with a wetness indicator and he’ll be fine.”

“We’re almost out of those anyhow,” Janet said. “We’ll definitely be out by Friday unless we get some more.”

“Great,” Beouf said. I exhaled, suddenly realizing that I’d been holding my breath. “Okie dokie. I gotta go put my room back together and set up for tomorrow. You know how it is.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Janet agreed.  She started lowering me down into the tiny playpen by her desk.  Beouf was already out of the room by the time Janet stood back up, but I caught sight of the older of the two women stopping and looking back.  At Janet?  At us? At just me?  It was hard to tell.

The moment Janet heard the door click closed behind her, she stiffened back up and went back to her desk.  “Hey, Janet?” I said.

“Mhm?” She was already typing stuff into her computer and shuffling papers around.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Grading papers.”  Her voice regained the same melancholy coldness of Sunday.  “Trying it day by day instead of all at once over the weekend.”

Uh-oh.  That meant no papers for me to grade on the weekend. “Can I help?”

“No.”

“Why not?”  She didn’t answer me.  “Why not?”  She was actively ignoring me.  “Why not?”

Janet rotated in her chair, scooted over to the playen and grabbed the pacifier dangling from my shirt.  “Quiet, baby. Mommy is trying to concentrate. Okay?”

“I was just trying to-”

The pacifier went in.  “Mommy is trying to concentrate.” She didn’t sound much like a Mommy just then. Or she sounded exactly like one…

The bulb couldn’t inflate. There was nothing preventing me from spitting it out and continuing to pester her.  I just decided not to.

*********************************************************************************************

The quiet continued into Tuesday.  I was half expecting Janet to completely snap and go full Typical Amazon on me.  There were no enema bags waiting, however.  No pacifiers that were anything other than fake nipples to suck on. No new hypnotic cartoons.   

If there was anything she was putting in the milk- that she was clearly drinking herself- it didn’t seem to be affecting my continence in any particularly drastic or noticeable way. Just because things weren’t getting worse down stairs, didn’t mean they were getting better.

“Wipe, wipe, wipe!” Zoge half-sung half-talked, while she did the dirty work of cleaning me up. “Cleaning up the baby.  Cleaning up the baby.”  Oh, so that’s what I was supposed to be seeing reflected down at me from the ceiling instead of me getting stripped down and degraded like it was normal.

Those of us in class who still had enough wherewithal and pride to not shit ourselves the moment the urge hit, tended to wait until we were hidden safely in the alcove of Beouf’s independent reading area.  The routine was: grab a book, huddle up behind a bean bag or face the wall, then pretend to read and not think about what was really going on. 

The bitter sweet part of the equation is that Zoge’s station was next in rotation and she’d check and change as soon as she got so much as a whiff.  Bitter for obvious reasons, sweet because getting changed could be a form of stalling.

“Bye bye old diaper,” Zoge narrated, tossing it into the trash.  “Hello new one.” I hadn’t even seen her get the new one.  She’d done it one handed, too, using her other to keep my legs crossed and up.  Lady could make a killing out of being a magician.  “Powder, powder, powder. And all done.”   I stared up at the ceiling mirror, fresh Monkeez snugly taped on. Embarrassing to admit, but I was starting to notice subtle differences about the way the various giants in my life changed me.  Zoge was still fast, but she had an element of playfulness to the routine.  “You’re getting very good at this, Clark.  I’m so proud of you.”

Getting good?  What did that mean?  Should I be struggling more? She pulled the pacifier out of my mouth, and I said. “Um…yeah…”   It wasn’t a compliment that I wanted.  At all.

Finally, Zoge did what she almost always did after wiping my butt for me.  “I love you.”

 As always, I remained silent on that front.  It never stopped her from saying it.  Not once. Something didn’t feel right in me.  My stomach flipped and it had nothing to do with digestion. 
Yikes.  That line hit harder than I’d anticipated today. 

Janet was quiet all that afternoon and that night too.  She just shut down.  All the while, Zoge’s voice kept running on repeat in my brain.  I even forgot to do my whispering into the baby monitor.

**************************************************************************************
Wednesday night I waddled up to Janet.  She was by the sink, washing dishes. Pre-washing actually.  She had a dishwasher, but she was the type to scrape food and spray sauce off of things before racking it up in the machine.  I always loaded everything in and let the washer sort it out, personally, back when I was allowed housekeeping duties.

It wasn’t a lot to wash.  Plates, glasses, bottles, and Amazon scaled cutlery.  I was dieting strictly on bottles and finger foods; no spoon feedings or stuff mushy enough to need a bowl or jar.

“Janet?” I asked her, tugging on her skirt.

She didn’t look down.  Something in the kitchen window had evidently entranced her.  “Hm?”

“Do you still love me?” I asked.

“Why? What do you want?”

Whoah!  I didn’t have time to hide the surprised shock on my mug. “Nothing right now. I was just wondering.” 

Immediately Janet’s face softened and she looked at me.  I got a glimpse behind the mask she’d been putting up.  At least I hoped the quiet face was the mask.   “Of course I do,” she said.  “Absolutely.”  There was surety in every syllable.

“Do you like me?”

The quiet came back to Janet.  She kept washing dishes.  I walked away and wandered through the house unescorted.  Things were beginning to make sense.  Longingly, I waddled into the bathroom. 

There was no way I was getting the diaper off.  It didn’t stop me from envisioning several amusing scenarios involving dunking myself ass first and seeing what mischief I could make from there.  Nah. Not worth it.  Janet could just put a lock on the lid and she’d still have access to her own bathroom.  I could probably do better.

Next to the toilet was a wastebasket, meant primarily for empty toilet paper rolls and wet diapers Janet didn’t want to go all the way to my room to toss out when she was stripping me down for a bath. Something else was in there that night, gleaming in the light: Torn up pieces of paper, colored and glossy.  Like a brochure.

 The balled up waste didn’t bother me. It was mine, after all.  It was nothing to reach in and pluck out the curiosities.  It didn’t take long for me to piece it together.  The Little Voices Logo of the two outlines walking hand in hand had already been seared into my brain.

Janet was tearing up Little Voices pamphlets.  

Why?

**********************************************************************

“Janet?” I asked Thursday night. “Why aren’t we getting ready to go to Little Voices?”  The clock was fifteen minutes past the time we normally left.  I was as dressed as I was going to be, yet Janet made absolutely no moves to leave.

Janet sat on the couch, sighing to herself.  “I don’t feel like going tonight.”

I heaved myself up onto the couch ledge and joined her.  “Why? Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Oh…”  I sat there in the silence with her, hoping my own would unnerve her.  It didn’t.

Fuck.

I actually wanted to go to Little Voices now.  It was important that I did and suffered through the bullshit opening and the lap games. I had a lot of things to do there, and not very much time each week to do it.  “We could leave late,” I suggested. “You could still go to the sharing time and I could get to play with the others.”

“No.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Because you don’t trust me?”  Might as well just come out and say the quiet part out loud.  “You think that because it’s something I want it must be something specifically meant to defy or embarrass you?”  She’d be right to think so, and it was kind of true in this case, but still…

And to my surprise, she answered,  “Yes.”

Ow.  That kind of stung hearing it out loud.  I genuinely wasn’t expecting that response.  Heaven forbid an Amazon speak so plainly and tell me what they actually thought.  Wow. It was a dream come true in a twisted way.  

I’d connected the dots.  I’d broken Mark. I’d broken Janet, too. She was just too deep into the sunk cost fallacy of this forced relationship to do anything about it. After two months I’d finally reached the point of making her suffer around me as much as I’d been suffering around her.  She was hiding it where she could in front of other Amazons to keep up appearances, but she was genuinely miserable in this moment.

That was good. Then why didn’t I feel good about it?  

I sat on the cushion next to her, giving her the same cold tone she’d been giving me for nearly a week.  “Whelp,” I said. “This is bullshit.”  My own face was a placid, nearly dispassionate mask.  I didn’t make eye contact; didn’t even look directly at her.  I picked the same spot on the wall she’d picked and drilled a hole in it with my irises. 

“Yup.” she said.

“You drag me around everywhere and I have to behave exactly how you want me to behave.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But the one time I want to go somewhere, somewhere you like too, it’s a bad idea because it was mine.”

“Pretty much.”

My voice was clear. My vision focused.  “You cosseted me.  You wanted me even before I…” No. I wasn’t going to so much as dignify the idea that Maturosis was real.  “You wanted me even before this.  And when you couldn’t get a kid you went straight to me.”  

“Yeah. I did.”  She wasn’t even defending herself. 

“Well you got everything you wanted,” I said.  “You got Clark and you got a baby, all in one package, right?”

“Right.” She sounded bored now.

“You tried to trick me after your marriage fell apart.  You probably poisoned me too just to make sure I’d be stuck with you.”  

“If you want to think that,” Janet said,  “there's nothing I can do about that.  I’m sorry.”  She didn’t sound sorry.

We were fighting. Neither one of us was shouting or crying or pointing our fingers. Our voices were completely calm. Our body language was damn near animatronic.  It was still easily more intense than any other interaction I’d yet had with someone.  

“Well, Janet, you’re stuck with this too.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her nod. “I get that.”

“It isn’t going to get better, Janet.”

“Probably not.”

“I’m not your fucking baby.”

Silence.  Two minutes of silence.  I counted the seconds myself.  Saw the digital clock on top of the television change twice. 

Janet stood up, fists clenched. She towered over me but still had her back to me.  She hung her head.  “I’m going to go to my room for a few minutes. Are you going to be okay on your own?”  I kept my mouth shut.  “I’ll be back to give you your bath.”

The bitch trudged off, leaving me by myself on the couch.  That certainly could have gone better.  I wasn’t angry or outraged though.  My feelings sunk deeper than that. Like going into shock, I just felt numb and cold and analytical, unable to feel any number of complex but ultimately painful feelings.

No time to be angry. No time to be sad. No time to be guilty.  Little Voices wasn’t on the menu for tonight’s mayhem. Time for Plan B, never mind that I didn’t have a Plan B until right that moment.  The gears in my mind turned fast enough to whip up something else.

I walked over to the kitchen and pushed a chair up against the kitchen counter. Giant furniture isn’t easy to move, but not impossible.Amazon society invested research into restraints and adhesives that Little hands couldn’t undo.  Wooden furniture? Not so much.

The groan of the wood scraping against the tile made me have to work fast.  My captor was tired and broken and now I had an opportunity that I hadn’t had before.  Didn’t mean she wouldn’t come running to see what the noise was.  Clambering up onto the kitchen counter, I bypassed the knives entirely.  She’d miss one of those.  Instead, I crawled over to the spice rack and grabbed one of the containers.

Perfect. 

Ungracefully I climbed back down to the kitchen floor, trying not to pant out of ego more than any practical reason.  I toddle-ran over to the diaper bag hanging on a hook by the door to the garage.  I’d move the chair back over to the fridge in a minute, let Janet think I was trying to get something from there, but I needed both hands and a near running start to get that thing going again. 

The bag  had a long enough strap that I could just barely reach it if I stretched on my tip toes. It was easy enough to stand as tall as I could and dump my weapon of choice right into a shallow side pocket normally reserved for teething rings and binkies.  If I played my cards right, I’d get it out easy enough.  If I didn’t, it’d likely be forgotten until Janet thought to check days or weeks later and then wonder how my little piece of contraband got in there.

This week sucked. Way too quiet. Not enough to talk about.

Tomorrow, Picture Day, however, would be very, very fun.  Lots of noise. And oh, I’d give them something to talk about.

[WBDaddy]

10 hours ago, Babyqtboy said:

it felt like the story was going somewhere.

It's going somewhere.  Hell, this last chapter it just went somewhere big, you're just too busy being judgey to read. I mean, there's 30 more chapters already written.  You could at least be specific about where you want this ship to sail, since you're not happy with the direction it's currently moving. 

[Babyqtboy]

5 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

It's going somewhere.  Hell, this last chapter it just went somewhere big, you're just too busy being judgey to read. I mean, there's 30 more chapters already written.  You could at least be specific about where you want this ship to sail, since you're not happy with the direction it's currently moving. 

Since the second part has started there has been no progression in the narrative. None of the last 20 chapters have even come close to addressing any of the questions the readers were left with at the conclusion of part 1; instead it’s the same thing every chapter, Clark trying to prove he is smarter than the Amazons and the Amazons taking all of his rebellious antics as proof of his Maturosis. It’s actually kind of a sadistic cringe to read at this point. I am not sure if it’s just a matter of word count at this point or if the author just likes the idea of presenting a bit of a mystery and then spending the last 4-6 months ignoring the natural direction of the story to give everyone more wet and messy diaper content in new and humiliating ways. Honestly at this point it appears as though Clark is going to push Janet to mind fuck him and the how, what, why and where of how he ended up here will never be answered. As I said, I have no problem with the author’s writing per say, generally enjoy his work but this one has become a very slow moving story. I probably should have kept my opinion to myself, and I realize that now. 

[BabySofia]

12 minutes ago, Babyqtboy said:

Since the second part has started there has been no progression in the narrative. None of the last 20 chapters have even come close to addressing any of the questions the readers were left with at the conclusion of part 1; instead it’s the same thing every chapter...

I can see where your comment is coming from where I think this posting is at the story. I also am on the Patreon and don't comment on this site much because I don't have the time to figure out where it's here and don't want to give any spoilers. As the others have said I would suggest giving some benefit of the doubt here, it really does move in some directions as it goes through each of the sections you have yet to read. Personalias is making a new 'Part' about every ten chapters or so, so you have about 3 parts I think of chapters to go before it's where it is on the Patreon. It is a slow moving work, but it is very detailed and well thought out.

The word count is very high on this, especially when you add the Patreon parts. I know he's mentioned the idea in passing of going back to edit it at some point. Based on what I experienced with my Exchanged work, this can easily be split into three or more standard word count books (Probably up to five actually, and those would not be small novels). 

I think there are also probably more answers in these last twenty chapters than you may see at first glance. I've been trying to find time to go back and read it from the start at some point - I know there are lots of hidden things throughout. Personalias has done a fantastic job of planning and planting seeds here and there. I personally appreciate a longer look at a novel rather than short stories or novellas, so I really admire what he's done here. I've never done a wordcount check of Done Adulting, but I believe he has passed every other author in the Diaper Dimension with this work. It may very well be the longest abdl work I know of at all actually.

Anyway, I know you said you regretted speaking out, but there's nothing wrong in being a critic. I think it might just be the way it was stated made people rise up? I recommend continuing, but I can see where you might not be as much of a fan. I do recommend giving it a shot through the next few chapters though!

[Personalias]

9 hours ago, Babyqtboy said:

Since the second part has started there has been no progression in the narrative. None of the last 20 chapters have even come close to addressing any of the questions the readers were left with at the conclusion of part 1; instead it’s the same thing every chapter, Clark trying to prove he is smarter than the Amazons and the Amazons taking all of his rebellious antics as proof of his Maturosis. It’s actually kind of a sadistic cringe to read at this point. I am not sure if it’s just a matter of word count at this point or if the author just likes the idea of presenting a bit of a mystery and then spending the last 4-6 months ignoring the natural direction of the story to give everyone more wet and messy diaper content in new and humiliating ways. Honestly at this point it appears as though Clark is going to push Janet to mind fuck him and the how, what, why and where of how he ended up here will never be answered. As I said, I have no problem with the author’s writing per say, generally enjoy his work but this one has become a very slow moving story. I probably should have kept my opinion to myself, and I realize that now. 

I'm not going to defend or explain my narrative and creative choices to you. There'd be no point in that.  If the writer has to break the fourth wall to explain what they're writing about, then something has gone wrong for that reader.  If you can't find the value in what I'm doing with this story, or if it does not entertain you enough for you to continue reading, that's your opinion and you have a right to it.    

Like any creative endeavor or expression I'm not going to appeal to everyone all the time.  That's just a fact of sharing writing and art.

Nor am I going to criticize you for no longer enjoying this story.  Your tastes and what you see as a "natural progression" and "sadistic cringe" differ on my own in this matter but both of our tastes are completely subjective.

What I don't understand is what you hope to gain or how you think you're helping anyone from voicing your opinion in this way?  I'm sharing my stories for free.  You're not a commissioner so it's not like I've agreed to write exactly according to your tastes. You're not a patron of mine so it's not like I'm trying to make content to keep you engaged so that you'll continue to financially support me.  

 I'm not at the point where I'm selling my stories on Amazon or whatever, so it's not like you're leaving a review so that other people don't spend their valuable money on something you wouldn't recommend.  This isn't a discussion thread about ABDL authors and really good or really bad stories so you can tell people who haven't read this story to not bother.

And as other people have said, I am much farther ahead in the narrative than what I post here.  So it's not like comments about the pacing not being to your liking or the content being cringe is going to be able to change it.  The future has already been written, as it were, so there's not much I can do at this stage to change it for you.

If you don't like my free story, what good are you doing by loudly announcing that you don't like it? Why not just decide that it's not for you, stop reading, click away, and continue to not click and read?  You said you like some of my other stories. Why not just put this one down and go read those?  Do you think anyone who hasn't read this far in the narrative hasn't made up their own minds on whether or not to continue reading it?

What effect did you think your words would have other than possibly hurting my feelings?