Little League - The LHL

[DiaperRebel]

You were lying freshly-cleaned and indignant. 

“Oh my gosh!” the Amazon’s excited  squeal filled the locker room. She plucked a new diaper from your supplies, gushing over its cuteness. “This must be one of the new prints! I had no idea these were out already! Oooh! You’re gonna look so cute!”

This Amazon was your Trainer; not potty trainer, Personal Trainer. She was beaming, fluffing open the diaper above where you lay blushing on the changing pad. 

”I mean, you Little players are like celebrities with all these sponsorships. And look...” her hand rested inside, rubbing enticing circles into the cushion, “...it’s so soft and thick for our wittle’s wet bum-bum, hm?” she teased.

You refused to watch and crossed your arms.

“Aw, you’re just cranky ‘cause you were in that soggy diaper for so long. Don’t worry!” she scooped up your waiting ankles and slid the diaper under you like it was the most natural thing to happen to you in the world. ”This will make you feel all better,” she cooed.

She kept your legs in her free hand; soon a soft smell filled the room she was starting to powder you.

 “This will keep you all dry~. She giggled, “At least, for a little while.”

Her fingertips reached down, gliding over your baby smooth skin; not a single hair remained down there per the League’s strict diapering of Littles regulations.

“Hmm...” Your Trainer’s hand rubbed around your lotioned thighs as she mused aloud. “Maybe a booster...”

“I-I am potty traine—er... training.”

You’d piped up, but from your current position, dusted with baby powder atop a changed diaper, it may have come across as more of a childish whine than you intended. 

“If you woulda let me go to the potty and hadn’t made me drink so much...”

“Nonsense,” your Trainer cut in, adding the booster regardless. “I gave you exactly the number of bottles a Little needs to stay sufficiently hydrated. It’s not my fault you can’t make it to the potty in time.”

“But I was—m!” 

“Nuh huh,” she waggled her finger. “None of that. Suck your paci until I’m done changing you.”

Something that looked exactly like a pacifier was now moving in your mouth. You felt the diaper go taut then Your Trainer busied herself wrapping the crinkly sides snug enough to prevent your proclivity for leaks. 

“Besides,” she continued securing the plastic tabs, “I think your last diaper would argue against you being even close to potty training. Didn’t I change someone’s poopy diaper not too long ago too, hmm? Honestly, if you keep blaming your problems on others sweetie it just goes to show you’re still not mature enough to handle being out of diapers. Isn’t that what this little game is all about? Only the driest can be Captain, you know.” 

Unable to complain thus furiously heated while she taped you up, she finally helped you sit up. 

“D’aw! You look adorable and they do fit you perfectly! You keep suckling that binky, honey, I can tell it’s helping. Now Let your Trainer take care of the rest of your padding,” she winked, delighted by her own play on words.

You knew the thing in your mouth looked like a pacifier but you seethed at her not even bothering to call it a mouthguard. You suckled, maybe a little too hard as a few babyish mouthing noises slipped out by accident, but it was more to keep you from saying the many things you wanted to say, but knowing the consequences could  get...messy.

“Oh ho. I can tell someone feels a whole lot better in a clean diaper.” Her finger swiped up along the blue strip that stretched the front. “Now there’s no way to hide if you’ve wet your diaper or not. You know that’s a penalty if you don’t tell the ref right away if you’ve used your diaper, remember sweetie? You know your team can’t afford you to be a little stinker, right?”

You flushed. She always knew how to push your buttons along with the ones she was currently snapping up your crotch. It hadn’t  been an accident! You had known as soon as she had fed you that bottle after a ‘tantrum’ you’d had with her that the timer had been set. It had been a valiant effort during the game, as your desperation grew, but it all came rushing out when you had been checked into the glass by that Mid. Your diaper sagged in the seat then alarming warmth filled the rest with your complete loss. The player needn’t have given you the most cursory of checks before she gleefully declared you were wearing a poopy diaper to the referee. Didn’t matter it was medically induced. Your transgression had cost the team a 15 minute penalty and the whole televised game. Now the coach had you restricted to the most babyish diapers, checks, and changing regimen. 

You hated to admit it, but after so many ‘accidents’  you were starting to look forward to changes. I mean a fresh diaper, still firm and soft, was loads better in comparison to a full one, but that just made sense...right?

Hands grasped under your arms and your Trainer helped you off the changing mat. You teetered on your skates she had just laced back up on your feet and she held your hand to steady you like an unbalanced toddler. 

Hockey. Yes, hockey. You played hockey. Why Amazons couldn’t trust Littles to make it to the bathroom or drink out of a cup but let you skate around with dangerous things was just another reflection of Amazon logic when it came to Littles, i.e. none. 

She bent down brushing off some stray powder that had leaked out of your pants before straightening up again with an accomplished huff. 

“Ok, honey. Changing time’s over.  Let’s get you back to practice.” 

***

[DiaperRebel]

Back in the arena, you were led by the hand to your coach after your change.

“How’s our little diaper-dependent defender?” He asked critically, clipboard waiting in hand.

Your trainer patted your crinkling bottom. “Soaked but not messy this time,” she reported dutifully. 

The coach simply noted the wet diaper to his log. He wore a solemn frown and added its likeness to your potty progress chart; his pen encircled ‘Continue diaper discipline’ without hesitation.

They wouldn’t let it go. It hadn’t been your fault! But it had happened in the third period of the biggest game of the season, and it taught you never to get ‘bratty’ around your trainer ever again; unless you wanted to get completely babied off the team. 

The diaper wearing clause of the Little League contract had various meanings. It could be diapers in the form of pull-ups like the unhindered Captain got to wear. Or the booster packed tab-style you had been currently subjected to. It was also the reason why you were on defense.

Labeled part of the least potty-trained group of the team, you were placed in the less critical position to get checked. Oh, ‘checked’ in this game meant getting pinned to the glass or over an opponent’s knee during play to have your diaper checked. Any hint of a used diaper would cause the player to be ejected until changed and that brought a whole new meaning to idea of line changes. 

In fact, defenders ended up spending most of their time making sure the goalie didn’t get ‘checked’ since the bottles they could keep above the goal posts were frequently targeted and... they were longest on the ice. 

This Little League career had all started when an Amazon had laid eyes on you. 

You felt, as you went about your days in the Amazon dominated world, a shadow. You made a point to politely ignore fellow Littles in strollers or getting publicly changed or punished. Perhaps it was this politeness that struck a chord. You had been careful and safe, but at no fault of your own, you’d been found desirable. 

Around that time was when you learned your employer had just joined a lucrative sponsorship with the League, the LHL.

Amazons saw the sport as a point of national pride, and enthusiasm for it, a patriotic duty. It pitted teams against each other to prove who had the true superior maturity. If a Little League could show teamwork, coordination (and dry diapers) long enough to beat the opposing Mids and eventually the coveted Amazon cup, then they would be deemed mature in society and given all rights and protections therein. 

It was rare for teams to actually make it that far of course. Foul play ran amok. As mentioned earlier, laced bottles were a common danger—and one you should have been more careful of—but things as cartoonish as swapping the Little team’s diaper powder for itching powder before a game wasn’t unheard of.

Back in the world outside the League, you had a very close call with an Amazon, and right after that, you had seen the announcement for auditions of Little Leaguer athletes circulating around work. 

Posters and promotions were everywhere and you were reaching your wits end. When a Little you worked with closely went missing only to be the new face of Diddy Diaper brands, you felt alone and desperate, and you signed up for even the barest chance at immunity.

Arriving at tryouts, it really was more of an audition than a test of athletic skill. Factors like cuteness and personality seemed to be more important than your actual skill on the ice. You thought yourself a little rougher player than the Amazon’s would have wanted,  but it turns out there was a large clientele for that as well as the darlings. Due to most being amateurs, every participant was matched with a Personal Trainer to get them ready for the real thing in a fraction of the time. You knew you’d be regulated to diapers and bottles and Amazon meddling and the like, but this was different. You had an out. A clear way to move forward; difficult, but clear. Amazons were under greater scrutiny on how they treated the Little League players. You couldn’t be disappeared into some nursery somewhere. You were a first string defender for the Genies. This, of course, brought its own form of unwanted attention.

Ever since ‘the incident,’ —messing a diaper on live television— you’d been given fistfuls of crayons countless times and asked to color in the Little autograph space beneath your ad that you’d been contractually obligated to participate in. 

The ad had been from a photoshoot of your team’s natural and unfortunate lead sponsor. The photographers sat you down on the floor in nothing else but your Genie jersey and an especially thick diaper they’d changed you into. Your Coach, to your dismay, was positioned standing above you seemingly casually placing a wadded up diaper into the pail that occupied the room. That picture was on billboards, full-page ads in magazines and it had the most mortifying eye catching slogan: ‘Looking for a sweeter smelling nursery? Look no further than Diaper Genie Complete Diaper Pail. Rated number one by Genies’ Head Coach for defense against his Little player’s messiest number two.’

And you thought your co-worker had it hard...

“Now that you’re cleaned up, get warmed up again with drills.” 

Your Coach’s voice brought you back to the present. 

You nodded, and was about to push off back onto the ice when he grabbed your pacifier guard clear from your mouth. You looked back startled, but at his firm expression, you realized your mistake, and quickly stammered out the proper response. 

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my good little munchkin,” he said popping your paci back in and giving your diapered behind a crinkly pat before sending you on your way. 

Back on the ice...finally. It was the only place you really felt free at all... 

***

“Diapey check, Little!”

“Oof!”

The Mid had you slammed into the glass and was pawing up your jersey to reveal the telltale infantile plastic peaking out from your waist. Amazon spectators were ecstatic for the lucky show. They craned their necks to see and were absolutely anxious to find out the latest diaper trends worn by the Little players. A ref was there too, the Mid pulled back your waistband and fingered the leak guards, but to no avail, you shoved yourself away, eyes locking once again on the free puck. A flash of purple of the opposing team’s jersey swirled in front of you as the puck was stolen. Your stick had just been reaching out to secure it when another ref’s whistle blew. 

“High sticking. Penalty.” He held up his two fingers at you. “Two minutes.”

“Wha?!” your safety pacifier ring rattled from your little outburst, but the ref was already pinching you by the ear, dragging you up to the penalty box as you painfully skidded to keep up. The rink divider was opened and your spirits dropped. It revealed someone you knew, the Penalty Attendee. She patted her lap, expecting you. 

“Hello again, little one,” she smiled. “Hurry up now. The timer doesn’t start until I do, and we don’t want all your little friends to be let down now, do we?” 

Your heart thundered and your stomach was tied in knots, but you knew you had to get this over with as quickly as possible. The defense was outnumbered now without you. A sense of rising urgency compelled you to race forward and lay yourself face down over her lap. She then began the process of pulling down your pants and your diaper to expose your bare bottom.

Coolness tingled across your skin as it was met with the chilly air. The Attendee’s warm hand rested upon you, making tender motions to the delight of the Amazon’s in the premium ‘penalty seats’.

“Hmm I don’t think I’ve seen this bottom since the last time you were here. Fifteen minutes for failure to report an accident...wasn’t that it?”

You tensed and nodded. A loud smack echoed as her hand struck your behind without warning. 

“Y-Yes, mommy!” your safety paci flew out and fell, but she didn’t care. Soothing you wasn’t on the agenda currently. 

“I see it took a little reminding for you to call me Mommy again when you’re being punished.” Another spank landed. Followed by three more. The ‘mommy’s’ suddenly became very easy for you to say.

“Yes, mommy! I’m sorry, mommy!” You pleaded squirming in her lap, but she was making sure you stayed perfectly positioned to feel the full force of her hand.

Eventually, her hand rested on your burning behind as you continued apologizing. She gave it light pats with her praise, “That’s more like it...now, why are you here?” 

“F-for high sticking,” you managed, although you were a bit slobbery now. 

“That’s right, high sticking.”

Spank!

“Now... since you’re so fond of high places...I’m going to suggest you’ll be fed all your meals from a high chair until you can prove you’ve learned your lesson.”

“But it wasn’t—!!!” Spanks rained in quick succession and your teary face was matching your glowing behind. 

“The only ‘butt’ that is getting any attention from me is yours! Do you understand?”

Your sniffling didn’t answer right away so she put a lot of force into her next spank. 

You sprang up and cried, ”Yes, Mommy!”

“Good.” Your fiery tush was massaged as the rolling amusement of the crowd dissipated. You felt her start repositioning your diaper. Thank goodness, timer must blessedly almost be done.

“It’s cute you’re playing this little game to prove what a big grown-up you are...,” she remarked, lazily running a nail along your leak guards to be sure they were properly fitted again. “But I remember having to clean a certain baby’s stinky hiney before your last spanking,” she hiked up your pants and placed your safety paci back in with a wink before the buzzer finally went off. You scrambled away, but you knew you had to follow the final rule before you were free to go.

“F-Fwank, you mommy.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome sweetie.” 

***

“Uh ho. What do we have here...” 

“Nothing...”

“Well I certainly think it’s something...” 

Your coach loomed disapprovingly. It didn’t take a genius to tell the diaper you were wearing was wet, and he wasn’t the only person in the room. You were both here as part of the promotional photoshoot for the new zoo opening. You wetting your limited edition safari printed diaper had not been part of the plan, but the sellers of Sensitives Little Wipes caught wind of it and ordered the shoot continue. They couldn’t pass up being part of a  heartwarming change between the Genie’s Head Coach and his Little troublemaking defender. 

Coach reached over and started lifting up your jersey to get it out of the way of your diaper change.

“Let’s look at the flood damage hm?”

“She left me in the chair for hours!” 

“Honey, I know it may have felt like hours, “he replied indulging you, while pulling your diaper’s tapes open, “but your Trainer knows what’s best for you. She was just getting you a bib because you were being so messy during your high chair feeding today. You couldn’t wait a little longer?”

As he opened your diaper, he got his answer and chuckled.

One wipe was pulled from the container then two to help him clean up a very wet little baby.

His wipes were kind and careful. He then gently pressed your feet back above your head to wipe up the excess wetness that made it to your bottom. The camera shutters didn’t distract or rush him with his job. He made sure you were clean. It was part of his discipline regimen after all that you weren’t trusted to change yourself. 

“You know...,” he said, rolling up your soggy diaper, wipes and all. “I don’t want this going to your head, since goodness knows we don’t want you getting any more bratty ideas,” he paused holding  up your sodden diaper in hand making him look like a caricature of a put-upon father and the cameras ate it up, “...but you’re my best defender. You’ve stopped a lot of plays by players twice your size, and...based on the state of your diapers...,” he dropped it heavily into the Diaper Genie Complete, “...at least three times your maturity.” 

An aide hurried over, handing him a new Safari diaper; without a word, he casually placed it under you and picked up a jar of cream. 

“My little defender,” he sighed, scooping out cream in his cupped fingers, “if you keep costing us penalties...” he focused a moment on applying cream to an area that looked in danger of getting a rash before moving  on to the powder bottle” ....we may have to put you in as our mascot.”

You nearly choked on his first shake of powder to your bottom. 

“N-No!” you said in your normal voice before quickly backpedaling into something more acceptable for a Little. 

“N-No, Daddy, I’ll be good!” 

“I know pumpkin,” he said, powdering you up, finding it adorable you’d be so against it while he was giving you a change, “but are you sure you wouldn’t just want a Mommy or Daddy to look after you? They’d take care of you, feed you, change you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about ever failing your potty training stats ever again. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“N-Nuh uh!” you quickly countered then sucked on your thumb nervously to compensate. “You...you know diapeys are too lil for me, right Daddy?” 

“That remains to be seen... sweetheart, your pail has been getting pretty full.” 

Your heart raced. Team Mascot meant you were a prize for one of the top contributing Amazon’s to bid over. You’d be adopted and booted off the team! You couldn’t let that happen. You thought fast. 

“I-I wanna stay and play with you...”

That made him smile a little as your fresh diaper was fitted. Once taped to his satisfaction, he gave it a few possessive pats.

“Well, if you think you can stay clean and dry and start acting your age...,” he warned then softened. “We just might make it to the Amazon cup.” 

***

[Pierry Louys]

Great story !!! Hope there more 

[Panther Cub]

Oooh, interesting perspective, I look forward to more!

[ausdpr]

This is really really fun. I love the world you captured there.

[Guilend]

I wonder if it's just the littles that are in diapers or if the other team has anyone with padding on. I bet the trainers are under a stricked set of rules and guidelines for how they are supposed to act since I'm betting that in the Amazon world it's a job every woman wants or wishes to have. I bet the punishment for them breaking the rules are harsh.

[DiaperRebel]

My, my, my, you naughty little defender...” 

It was the third period yet again. The score tied. The Mid-Knights had way more shots on goal, but your goalie was out. Having gotten checked, she was back in the locker room getting her diaper changed, they seemed to be taking their sweet time with it! The star offensive Mid had the puck, he had barreled through your fellow defenders. The ice hissed beneath your skates when you faced him, but he feinted. It was going to be a goal. You were going to lose! Your gloved hand reached out and as he made his move you seized his jersey.  Something caught your eye, something unexpected, but the whistle blew, and you were yanked to the penalty box like the naughty Little everyone thought you were. 

Loud smacks filled the arena as play resumed. The Penalty Attendee only paused to let you recover enough of your wits to listen to her carefully. She sighed.

“Whatever are we to do with you...?” You squirmed meekly and said the appropriate apologies. 

“No, darling, I don’t think you are sorry.”

Sounds of another round of  spanking echoed throughout the area.

You were a limp puddle in her hands when she gave you time to breathe again.

“Since you have proven yourself so capable of holding...” she continued her lesson. “I’m reducing you to one potty privilege a day. I imagine that would be a lot of capacity to hold now wouldn’t it? So you’ll be in cloth diapers with plastic panties in case such a grown-up Little like you has an accident. Sound fair?”

***

If course it wasn’t fair. It was leisure time in the ‘daycare’ after another hard day on the ice. You were trying to enjoy it, but one ever-present need was definitely in danger of dampening it.

A folded magazine landed on your poofily diapered lap. The Captain stood before you, a disgusted sneer plastered to his face.

“Look what just came in,” he said with disgust.

You looked down, the Coach was in a glossy magazine ad, his back to the camera. A zoo-animal printed diaper drew your gaze. It had been used and was sagging in his grip. He seemed to be regarding it with a tiresome expression while his other hand rested on a Little’s spread knee. You went flush as recognition struck, half-naked, that was you! You were kept modest by his position in front of you and the container of Extra Large Little wipes. The caption flowed off the page, Even the wildest Littles need Sensitive care. Genie’s Head Coach calls Sensitive Little Wipes a wish come true for the most thorough wipe in freshness and protection.

Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. The photoshoot...

“You need to get your act together,” the Captain snapped. “Coach can’t keep cleaning up your mess. Pun intended. He’s got more important things to do than wipe your sorry ass. Do you even remember why you joined the League? Or are you satisfied turning into his little diaper wearing pet? You’re holding the entire team back.”

“Ergh...please don’t mention holding...” you replied.

That did it. The Captain punched you, hard above your bladder and you jerked forward clutching desperately at the pillowy padding between your legs. Too late. You were wetting so uncontrollably you felt warmth rising up your hands  seeping beneath your bottom. After the moment of relief, you flushed with mortification.  

“What’s going on here you two?” Your Trainers came to check on both of you. “Potty time is in about ten minutes everything alright? What’s wrong? Let me see sweetie.”

Your hands were moved and your trainer pressed along your crackling plastic panties.

“Oh honey...feels like that holding penalty was just too much for you uh? You already used this as your potty...” Her fingers ran down and dewy droplets could even be seen soaking through the pinned cloth to the outer clear panty shell.

To your ultimate chagrin, the only thing the Captain was soaking up was praise for yet another dry pull-up. Your frustration soared, but you were scooped up in your Trainer’s arms. She seemed to be enjoying herself patting the delightful extent of your newly wet bottom.

“There, there little one. No need to cry. Some Little’s just have more trouble than others sweetie, but look no messies. That nice penalty lady knew you’d be so easy to clean up this way. I’ll even let you pick out which diapey pins you’d like your Trainer to use. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” 

She carried you off in the opposite direction of the potty for a change.

***

The wet cloth diaper clunking into the laundry bin still echoed in your mind. You watched your Trainer happily pinning the pristine spongy new diaper fold on your hip. She took great pains to fold the white cloth just right on you as if she alone could keep the dying art of cloth diapering alive. 

Feeling the diaper’s familiar hug, you stared up at the dancing genie logos dotting the changing area to distract fussy Littles. You knew you were now looking like a classic baby. Large pastel safety pins adorning your hips, white cloth between your legs, silicone rubber filling your mouth since your Trainer always had you sooth and suckle your paci guard during changes. She had also placed your arms above your head to lay limply out of the way of any pokey pins. You let out a huff.

Maybe the Captain was right. It felt like only a few days ago you had been treated like a messy bib-wearing baby getting your face wiped for the final time in the high chair. But now, you were  getting pinned into diapers thicker than those of an average Little’s.

Your mind went back to the game, the clock had been running down and the same star offensive Mid had been skating  circles around your defensive strategies. That was when you saw your trainer out of the corner of your eye. She had crossed her legs, held between them and did a little mock potty dance, the signal to hold. She had taught you holding was a very last resort to stop play in time to save a breakaway goal. You saw it coming and made the choice. 

“Bottom’s up for the panties,” your Trainer sang out. You felt the elastic vinyl threaded up your legs. “Why so glum hun bun? You helped us win!” 

That much was true. Intentional holding penalties were a strategy in the LHL, frowned upon, but effective, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all going to be worth it. Learning the game, hours of practice, all of these ‘accidents’ soiling your reputation (and pants). You couldn’t help but wonder if you had needlessly kickstarted your descent into diapers forever...

***

[kirababy]

very interesting story, looking forward to seeing how it develops.

[Pierry Louys]

Great chapter 

[DiaperRebel]

You were once again over the Attendee’s lap already thanking her for your upcoming spanking to try and hurry this along. The game was close it would seal your teams position in the playoffs and you felt the pressure. 

“Number (you’re favorite number ;)) are you quite serious...Butt-ending?”

***

“Stick your bottom up silly.” 

You had no choice. Already bruised, you didn’t want to think about what yet another spank would feel like. You raised your hips, hands curling into little fits with your anticipation mounting. 

Your Trainer laughed aloud. “Sweetheart you need to relax. Here let me help get you ready.” You felt her little finger circling and prodding a spot that was in no way relaxing. 

“There we go...that’s better. Just one daily prescribed squirt for your butt-ending penalty and we’ll let you get right back to playing.”

A conical shape nudged you there. They couldn’t be serious! Your Personal friggin’ Trainer had conveniently failed to mention that penalty even existed! If you’d known you would have been infinitely more careful! No wonder you hadn’t heard of it! 

Something entered then a certain plunger was slowly depressing and you made strained noises through your pacifier you thought you might bite in half; there simply was no other way to process what was happening. Anything that didn’t make it fully inside was now running down your leg in a chilly rivulet. 

“There we go, my little defender. All done.” The delivery tool plopped out and she turned you over to secure your disposable again. It didn’t take long for you to start breaking out into a sweat and spit out your pacifier guard.

“P-peesse, Trainie, please let me go to the potty!”

“No time sweetie. You have to get back to practice and then your fun play date with the interviewers. You can try to keep it in for as long as you’d like, but you can just let it go into your diaper. These have more room in the seat for a reason.

***

You sat almost visibly shivering with discomfort and nerves. 

A row of mics lined the cloth draped table. Most microphones in the short table stands were colorful toy looking types the Amazon’s believed would entice you to play with or pay attention to more, but a few professional styles from Little reporters showed there were some Littles who were at least fans of the players striving for a difference. 

Amazons rattled babyish toys to get you to look into their cameras or pay attention to their questions, but despite your vulnerable state, you pointedly addressed your fellow Littles and gave attention only to their professionalism. 

The Littles asked about strategy and statics questions but the Amazon’s kept interrupting with baby talking tones in their voices with things like

“You’re such a cutie in your diapers aren’t you glad you can have fun playing while the League takes care of you? Trains you?” 

“Before I joined the LHL, I was living dependently without—“

“But isn’t it true you have the most poopy diapeies of all your little friends?”

Heat rose in your face. At this point many commentators were mentioning the distinctive smell of a dirty diaper that was wafting from your booster seat on the conference stage.  

Your trainer stepped in. Placing your pacifier in your mouth and smoothing your hair. 

“It’s true this Little has been struggling with maturity for some time now. But rest assured, the Genie’s defense is as fierce as the smell you’ve all probably noticed coming from this Little one’s punishment diaper. I apologize for the dirty diaper in present company, but we all know actions have consequences and this Little just so happens to be a slightly slower on learning those lessons despite speeding us towards the playoffs. Any other questions?”

The Amazon reporters erupted with questions, but a professionally dressed Little reporter stood up on her chair. Recorder thrust forward. She asked, “But whose responsibility is it to ensure the progress of the players? Shouldn’t Personal Trainers be held accountable as well?” 

That was the bravest most foolhardy thing you had ever seen. Still suckling your paci, you looked up to your Trainer who had a face that suggested she wanted to throw the reporter over her knee and tan her hide right then and there.

***

“You ungrateful Little. I saw the way you looked at that nasty reporter. I change your diapers. I’m not the one filling them up. After all those hours I’ve spent teaching you to be a good Little defensive player. Coaching you, feeding you, taking you to the potty, bathing you. This is the thanks I get?” 

Another dirty wipe joined the others in the pail. A thick diaper cradled your cleaned behind and powder shook furiously down.

“Since you don’t need my help. I’ll be putting you to bed earlier. Let’s see how long you last as a big grown up in your Little nursery on your own for that long. Hm? Let’s see your progress then!”

“Twainy, no pwease.” You took on as innocent a voice as you could. This wasn’t a time to act your age. The Captain’s words did echo in your mind. You couldn’t hold the team back just because of some vendetta. “I’m sowwy I made p-poopies even though you said I could make it to the potty if I waited.”

This sort of thing always had an effect on an Amazon’s heart. Your Trainer’s hands became more gentle as she diapered you up. Her palm played with the crinkly material soothingly. She seemed to be reconsidering. She sighed.

“I accept your apology, but we’ll still have an early bedtime. How bout I read you the playbooks and feed you your babas before beddy byes?” 

You did your best to smile a little and nod thanking the dimensional heavens that you’d weathered that storm. She scooped you up and carried you on her hip to the nursery. 

***

On 2/4/2021 at 12:45 PM, Guilend said:

I wonder if it's just the littles that are in diapers or if the other team has anyone with padding on. I bet the trainers are under a stricked set of rules and guidelines for how they are supposed to act since I'm betting that in the Amazon world it's a job every woman wants or wishes to have. I bet the punishment for them breaking the rules are harsh.

Thank you so much for this comment! It got me thinking and inspired me to write more! Honestly I was only being inspired by different silly hockey penalties but this expanded my thinking! I’m glad you enjoyed it at least at the beginning ;D. 

On 2/2/2021 at 9:59 PM, Panther Cub said:

Oooh, interesting perspective, I look forward to more!

Yes! I read ‘diapered reader’ tagged stories in the past and dang do I like the feeling of not being in control of what happens to ‘me’ in the narrative. You might have to forgive some actions you don’t agree with of course but I still find it fun to read. That’s one reason why I don’t have ‘you’ talk unless needed for some sweet humiliation or plot or something XP. 

On 2/4/2021 at 2:38 AM, ausdpr said:

This is really really fun. I love the world you captured there.

Thank you! That means a lot since I’ve seen your interest in the more lore side of ‘the dimension.’ I just play off what I believe is princesspottypants’s (that was hilarious to type) story of Chasing Emily. Great stuff I was a patreon of hers too until I got nervous of notification emails popping up in the wrong place. 

[DiaperRebel]

On 2/1/2021 at 10:21 AM, Pierry Louys said:

Great story !!! Hope there more 

 

On 2/9/2021 at 5:48 AM, kirababy said:

very interesting story, looking forward to seeing how it develops.

Thank you for your comments! And Pierry thank you for being the first commenter. As indulgent as this is, I was still afraid the font would turn people away. I type it up in my phone notes and when I paste it over I’m not sure how to adjust it on mobile. 

[BabySofia]

I had caught the first post on this, but hadn't seen more. I'm enjoying this tale here. If you get a chance next time you post, go back to the original post and edit it. You can change the title to say whatever chapter you're on if you want, but better yet put the date of the update. That let's us know at a glance that there's been a new chapter posted that we should check out. 

Back to the story, I sense he may make it to the cup, but that's just before he has a new daddy or mommy! Very innovative! ?

 

[Pierry Louys]

Really liking the way the story is progressing! And I think someone very soon gonna have a new uniform to use in the games hahahaha like a onesie or a romper hahah