Another One Fresh From The Archive And Released On Wordpress. Enjoy, Ya Little Sissies! ;-)

How it all started...

It’s crazy actually sitting down and thinking about this. I’m in a place I never thought I’d be, with someone I’d never thought I’d be with, and in a community I never thought I’d be a part of.

I was a vanilla all my life, up until recently. Never used any type of toys during sex. Never had an orgasm. Never came. When it came to sex, my partner(s) never really tried, and only looked to fulfill their own release. Looking back, honestly it seems pretty pathetic and sad. I never really had someone who fulfilled what I needed not only physically, but emotionally as well.

I had a few relationships, but none of them resulted in anything positive. All were extremely toxic. I was cheated on, controlled, manipulated. My views on love were completely morphed into something I never pictured it to be. It became ugly. And i told myself that ifTHIS truly was what love was, I wanted nothing to do with it.

After feeling my lowest, I managed to escape the clutches of those emotionally abusive relationships; Those toxic relations that did nothing but drag me down and make me feel all types of emotions that true love should not involve. I knew I had to leave, and that I deserved better. I deserved more than that. And thankfully…my little came into the picture just when I was about to give up.

I didn’t know he was into this type of community when I met him. In fact, I had no idea. Not a single clue.

We were friends for a long time before any of this had happened. We always made an effort to come to each other’s aid when we were at our lowest, and we needed it most…and I truly believe that that’s how we found each other.

I trusted him with all of my worries, my fears, and relationship secrets. He did the same with me. That wasn’t really something I was very open about to begin with.

I realized that the more I talked to him and told him, the more I saw how patient, understanding, and caring he was. He spoke with such conviction and his heart showed through his actions. I started to fall for him pretty hard and fast. One day, we admitted we started having feelings for one another. And that is where this whole induction started.

It all started with Halloween, and talking about our ideas about what we wanted to be.

“I’m going to be Jimmy Fallon for Halloween.” “OMG you should go as Sara. You would look so good lmfao.” “Psssh, I’m the type of person that can buy a pack of depends for a baby costume and rock the FUCK out of them.”

I didn’t think he meant anything by that. We laughed and we talked. We became closer and closer by the minute. He began to disclose a lot of secrets. Really personal, raw emotions. And I think that made me fall for him even more. He let himself become completely vulnerable to me. And that’s when he said it…

“I’m an ABDL.”

Someone I knew, or at least I thought I knew had a secret life; A fetish that a lot of people do not understand and discriminate against BECAUSE they don’t understand.

I thought that this would cause me to be up in arms, but it didn’t. I looked at him while he was pouring his heart out to me, and saw the truth and longing in his eyes to be loved and cared for. I felt the most alive I’ve felt in months…I felt like we could help each other.

…and I was right.

The next few days after that, all I could think about was our conversation. I looked up videos. I looked up punishments. I watched documentaries on the psychological reasons one may have this fetish. I actually (as pathetic as it sounds) started a notebook with all important information that would come in handy later (I.E., type of diapers that crinkle the loudest, toys that could be used for punishments, etc). I did everything in my power to understand and accept something so mysterious, and foreign to me. But that is what made me so intrigued.

It was exactly that; foreign. A lot of things would change once I accepted the role of becoming his mommy…and would challenge me as a vanilla, hardly knowing anything about any of this due to lack of experience.

Could I handle it? Would i be good enough? Would I fit into this community?

I remember after talking about it for a little, there was one rainy day where he came over and I was laying on my bed. He opened the door to my room and walked over just to lay right on top of me. I began running my fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead while he snuggled into me. When I reached down to rub his lower to upper back, I remember hearing it for the first time. *crinkle*. It was music to my ears for so many reasons. I looked at him and without hesitation, I instantly smiled and kissed him as hard as I possibly could.

There are so many people who do not understand and judge in today’s world. People criticize others for not fully grasping or understanding differences. There is such a risk in being open and raw and real.

Looking at my little gives me such a huge amount of joy, and makes my heart so full. I see him in his most vulnerable state. I get to hold him in my arms while his eyes get heavy and he can barely stay awake. I get to kiss him and tickle him, and shower him with all of the love I had to offer but held back for so long.

It is so refreshing to have something as real as this. So intense in so many fucking aspects. He aims to please me, he aims for my approval, and he aims to make me happy. He takes the time to make sure I get mine, and we constantly test each other’s limits. It makes everything so extremely passionate, and aggressive, and intense. I have never had this type of love or loved someone the way I do my little.

I am so (beyond) happy that he told me and opened up to me about this…something that he said can easily scare a person off or freak someone out. This didn’t do either for me. If anything, this brought us so much closer. It’s real. It’s something very, very fucking real. And I’m happy I get to share something so intimate with someone so special to me.

I never thought I’d play this role…ever.

But there is something about the innocence in this that amazes me. The way he looks when he has his paci in his mouth and his onesie on. The way he looks when I give him a bubble bath, and how he happily splashes in the bath tub. The way he shakes his cute little butt when I put on a fresh diaper with baby powder.

There is something about standing over him while he shakes from my teasing him, something about the way I make him moan, and something about the way he whimpers and whispers that he wants to fuck me that I will never get tired of. I love this feeling of being control.

I absolutely adore being a mommy…but mostly, I adore being his.

xx

THE ADULT CLINIC: POST OP MESSING’S

Katie was have a nice and messy weekend off from work and she was loving every second of it . Katie recently became a diaper dependent after undergoing a surgical procedure to do so at The Adult Clinic and have been messing her diapers ever-since . Every morning she would wake up in a moist and soggy diaper and lay in it until she would eventually change it . She was of course aroused by wearing them and they made her feel sexy and so young . Her boss at work couldn’t care less about it and now that she has a Doctor’s note supplied by the Adult Clinic to wear them they couldn’t do a thing about it there and her boyfriend also finds them kinky and loves the look and even when asked changes it for her . The only drawback of wearing them are the smell of them after she messes and inconvenient times she goes but she found ways to accommodate for the changes and has adjusted to wearing them . Katie doesn’t even regret her decision of becoming Diaper dependent and prefers it this way and wonders why no one else becomes diaper dependent.

El otro día pasé más de 20 horas en este pañal y fue realmente increíble (después de pasar más de 3 días en pañales).

Ya quiero hacer un buen rato en 24/7. En serio fue increíble

Padded Little Paradise

Naptime Thoughts

Image Credit: Ageplay247.com Quiet! You’ll wake her if you’re not careful. It’s her naptime, of course. She needs two, maybe three hours’ na

This one's a classic – free from the archive at last, and publicly available on Wordpress!

Morning Comforts (18+)

Written by @cradle-quill, feat. images courtesy of @starryprincxss

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, revealing bits of dust particles floating through the air. Tara, already awake, sat upright in bed with her legs crossed. Her boyfriend, Leo, slept soundly beside her, laying on his stomach with his head turned toward her. Tara studied every inch of his face. The ways his lips curled as he slept, the way his nose curved toward his brow, sculpting the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. As she watched him breathing gently in his sleep, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky.

Their bedroom was quiet and still, and had been for several hours now. It was as if the whole room were asleep, now being gently stirred awake by the encroaching sun. Whereas the previous night had been cool enough for Tara to get all bundled up, the sun brought with it bits of warmth as it brushed against the little skin Tara left uncovered. The sensation was pleasant, but it wasn’t enough to draw her out of her pink hoodie just yet. She was far too cozy for that, and she wanted to cling to the last moments of early morning while she still could.

She wanted to watch the sunrise, but didn’t want to wake Leo up before he was ready, so she gently lifted herself off the bed and tiptoed out of the room, careful to open the door extra slowly, so as not to make any noise whatsoever. When she closed the door behind her, she was proud of her stealthiness and gave herself a little smirk. Satisfied, she went out to the kitchen, opened the curtains that faced the rising sun, and set to work fixing herself a morning cup of coffee.

It was an almost perfect morning, but there was one small… problem. Except she wouldn’t call it a problem, not exactly. It was more of an… inconvenience. Or really, it was just something new to her. Something she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about yet. With each step she took, each turn of her waist or adjustment of her hips, she felt the unusual sensation of extra padding hugging her body, and heard a light crinkle to match.

Falling asleep in her newfound “underwear” had been… interesting, to say the least. She tossed and turned for a bit, unable to get settled until Leo rubbed her back until she fell asleep. The pull-ups she was wearing, really just glorified diapers with a bit of extra dignity tacked on, had been his idea. Well, mostly. She’d worn them when she was younger, not having fully grown out of wetting the bed until she was in her early teens. But it had been years since then, as she was well into her twenties by now, and thought she had put that vestige of her old life behind her. But when Leo confessed he had a diaper fetish, she had to admit she found the idea intriguing.

She never really disliked the goodnites. She remembered them being form-fitting and soft, kind of like wearing a light pillow while she slept. When Leo told her she’d still fit in them, she didn’t believe him, but low and behold, here she was no, wearing glorified diapers for older kids who still haven’t quite gotten the hang of potty training at night. That was embarrassing enough on its own, without including the fact that her bedwetting had been making a return appearance as of late. It wasn’t anywhere near as often as it used to be, but having to wash the sheets a few times a month was still enough to be a recurring annoyance. So when Leo brought up the subject of trying goodnites again, Tara had to admit there was some practical benefit.

That practical benefit had come in handy overnight. As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, she couldn’t help but notice the slight wetness of her padding each time she moved. The pull-up wasn’t soaked; it had more room to wet, but anyone looking at her would immediately know she wasn’t dry. Knowing that not only did she feel like a little girl, but she looked like one, sent her synapses firing with all kinds of conflicted feelings.

Still, she wanted to give it all a fair shot, so she stuck it out and waited for Leo to wake up before she would change, as they had agreed. Which meant Tara had plenty of time to finish making her morning coffee. Once it was done, she poured two shots of creamer and let three sugar cubes dissolve in it, stirring her drink while she watched the sun crest over the canopy of trees on the horizon.

The sight absorbed her, taking in every inch of her being and soothing it as her thoughts melted away. She stirred her coffee, then took a gentle sip, careful not to burn her lips, before mindlessly going back to stirring once again. This continued for some time, until the sun had fully risen over the trees, and the morning dew glistened in its beaming rays.

A sense of fulfilling peace spread through her chest as she took a deep breath in through her nose, holding it there and letting it linger, as if all time around her stopped with it. The only other sense she noticed was a sudden twinge in her bladder, the same one she remembered learning to listen to all the way back when she was potty training.

Everything in her, every piece of who she was now as an adult, told her to go take the silly pull-up off and use the toilet like a big girl. But one small sliver of a dissenting voice whispered in the back of her mind, telling her not to move an inch. It told her to stay there, to bask in that wonderful moment she was experiencing, and to let all her worries wash away, to let go of them and release them into the void. Against her better judgment, Tara let that voice win.

As she exhaled, letting go of that long-held breath, she let go of something else, too. She relaxed all her muscles, letting go of all the tension she’d been holding onto, all the stress and worries of adult life. The fear of being judged, the illusion that she had to live up to the invisible expectations of an ever-judging society, one that she knew couldn’t even see her in that moment. She gave it all up, and let it wash away, just like the voice had told her. And as she did, it all flowed right between her legs and into her diaper.

As she felt the warmth spreading all around her, cutting through the stillness of the cool morning air, she recognized that voice from before. One that had been lost to her for so long, one that she had forced down into a place she would not allow herself to hear. It was her, her truest, most innocent and pure self. A child with no cares, no worries about living up to a version of herself she didn’t even have in her head back then. For the first time in years, she let it come free, and against the backdrop of that beautiful morning, she was at true peace.

That’s when she heard another voice come from behind her, though this one was far more familiar. It was Leo’s, asking her what she was doing. And right as he said those words, all the fear and tension welled back up inside her again, like a ball of flames that she had to force back with her own hands.

“N-nothing,” she said as she placed her coffee mug on the counter and quickly covered herself with her hands, pulling her hoodie down to hide the obviously wet diaper.

Leo looked back at her and just smiled. He approached her gently, like a man offering his hand out to a doe, and when she didn’t startle, he reached out and stroked his hand across her hair. “It’s alright, honey. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

Her breath had caught in her throat, but with those words, she breathed again, tentatively. But with each stroke of her hair, the panic that had risen inside her melted away once more.

“Are you absolutely sure? We can just... pretend this never happened. Like we never had the idea, and we can just go about our normal lives.”

Leo’s smile further softened, and he reached his hand down to the bottom of her hoodie, where it hid her diapered state. A little jolt flew through her body, and she clutched her hands tighter against her one piece of clothing, to her one piece of dignity. Leo loosened his grip.

“I won’t you to do anything, my love. If you want me to let go, and you want to head upstairs and change out of it, and never acknowledge it again, then that’s what we’ll do. You get to set the pace here, and there’s no wrong answer. I will respect your wishes either way, and I won’t be upset with you if that’s what you decide. But just know that I’m okay. We’re okay. I’m not ashamed of you, or embarrassed to be with you. You aren’t disgusting, and there’s nothing wrong with you. I’m right here with you, every step of the way. So whatever you want to do, I’ll be right here, with a hand ready to hold and a shoulder ready to lean on.”

Tara thought about it for some time. She trusted him. She knew he was being honest with her, that he would never shame her or make her feel like a poor excuse for a partner for whichever decision she made. But despite knowing that, it was still so embarrassing to be seen the way she stood there before him. What if there was no going back? What if he never saw her as an actual adult ever again? But worse than those things, what if she liked it? What if she wanted him to see her this way? Like a helpless child who’d had an accident, and who needed to be cleaned up and taken care of. She had to decide one way or the other. But as she looked into Leo’s eyes, his gentle, loving face smiling back at her, she knew it would be okay. That no matter what she picked at this time, he wouldn’t hold her to it. She could always change her mind later, and he would be there for her, to love and support her no matter what.

Tara took one final deep breath, and then slowly lifted her hoodie up to reveal her now soaking wet pull-up. Her pee had stained it all up the front and the back, and while it wasn’t leaking, drops of condensation dripped from the front of the cloth-backed material. Her heart pounded, and her face burned with a blazing heat.

Leo just kept smiling. He moved his hand forward, gesturing at her diaper, and Tara gave an embarrassed little nod. When he felt the front of her diaper with a squish, Tara couldn’t help but let out a small moan. He pressed his hand harder between her legs, and felt the padding give way as trickles of pee fell down her legs, running across his fingers and palm.

“It looks like somebody had quite the accident, isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Tara nodded once more, unable to find any words.

“That’s alright honey, you don’t need to speak,” Leo said, as if reading her thoughts. “You can just stand there and be my pretty little girl while Daddy checks your diaper. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Tara offered a little whine of approval, and Leo’s smile grew into a condescending but sweet smirk. “That’s what I thought, kiddo. Now, do me one favor before Daddy takes you upstairs to change you.”

“Wh-what’s that, Daddy?”

Leo lifted her almost finished mug of coffee and handed it back to her. “Hold this and turn around again. I want to see that perfect image one more time.”

She did as she was told, half-turning her body and popping her hip for him while she looked back toward the man she loved, her eyes inviting him to continue. That feeling of serenity and calm was gone now, but a burning desire deep within her had replaced it. It longed for him; it needed him, every bit of him, to be with her.

As he smiled at his beautiful little diaper model, he smiled even wider than before and said, “There we go. That’s my good little girl.”

And from then on, she was.

Cupid’s Punk!

1- so it feels real

There is both terror and freedom in restarting your life. Not in a cosmic sense, but in the moving-across-the-country-and-leaving-everyone-you-knew-on-the-opposite-coast sense. That is where Scarlet found herself this morning. Eyes red from her jetlag, hair a mess from the uncomfortable seats, and a puffy-eyed death stare meeting her from the scratched bathroom mirror. Even with her fresh start, the fresh apartment, she was not ready for her first day at a new job in this new, unfamiliar city. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to forget. She wanted to go back to her home with—a pang of heartbreak through her chest interrupted the thought. That home was no longer there, and no one was waiting for her to come home. Instead, Scarlet let out a dejected sigh, opened the cardboard moving box that contained the toiletries that were not in her carry-on, and got in the shower. She was up far earlier than she realistically needed to be, to make sure she could wash her hair, shave her legs, and still have plenty of time for makeup and a relaxed cab ride to work. The pipes whined and hot water splashed her face as the new-ish utilities sprung to life. She focused on getting the sleep out of her eyes.

 She resented her own anxious, over-prepare-until-exhausted tendencies. Yet Scarlet knew that on mornings where she didn’t do this, she was late. It was part of why she’d lost her last position as a Library clerk. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. If I started taking those then…what if... Scarlet let the thought drift up with the steam, and focused on the rigorous maintenance that her curly, shoulder-length bob required. The rest of the shower went likewise. She would move on to some other form of self-grooming, only for another intrusive thought to appear, and she would do her best to let it roll off of her. By the time she was done, dripping into a towel and stepping out, she had gotten most of the self loathing scrubbed off. Scarlet turned to face the same mirror. She wiped the fogged glass with one pale hand, and the same dead-eyed look greeted her. Scarlet forced a smile, hollow but just enough to come across as courteous and eager, rather than like a retail worker who was dead inside. She had plenty of practice masking in this way. 

Her breakfast was a microwaved cup of coffee and protein bar, the leftovers from her flight. She’d have to go to the grocery after work. She ate just enough to then turn to her prescriptions, the small, resentful white triangles tasting bitter and frustrating, her knowing that it was a 50/50 on whether she would be vomiting before lunch. The three small blue estrogen pills had to melt sublingually, and wouldn’t upset her stomach. They did, however, taste like minty asshole as they dissolved under her tongue while she started her makeup routine. It went quickly, Scarlet’s old “professional” looks still in her head after years of rushed mornings where her mediocre nutrition and makeup routine battled for time. Her hands danced; brushing, patting, dabbing, blending, and setting at a quick but deliberate pace. This wasn’t Scarlet’s first time working places that made her tone down her looks and cover her smattering of artsy tattoos that criss crossed her arms. Her new boss had assured her however, that so long as she wore at least business casual and none of the tattoos visible were profane, no one would care. Simple enough to cover the guillotine on her shoulder blade or the shoddy stick and poke of her highschool bff’s band “The Fart Coffins” on the opposite blade. She only sometimes regretted that one out of any of the designs on her body.  She finished with a modest amount of very neutral blush, and got up to dress in the outfit she had laid out the night before. A simple white blouse and black skirt, black tie, black flats. Should show a good first impression for a secretary of a legal office. She couldn’t help but roll the sleeves partially, however, showing hints and edges of her ink. 

 Scarlet made sure her hair was dry, shook her head as a jolt of the last taste of estrogen left her mouth, and called for her cab. Just before leaving, she packed her purse, and heard an unfamiliar jingling at the bottom. Fishing through the myriad receipts, dust bunnies and half finished chapsticks, she finally found the culprit, and her heart dropped. A simple gold ring, with an inscription inside; Futile – the winds –/ To a Heart in port –The singular band was heavy in her hand, and Scarlet felt the heartbreak all over again. She wanted nothing more than to scream. She wanted to sob until her throat was hoarse, to wail in pain. She wanted to call her. Instead, she tenderly wiped the welling tear in one eye to preserve her mascara, roughly threw open the drawer to toss the precious bomb in with a clatter. The front door slammed and locked behind her.  The cab hummed quietly as it rode down the dense city streets, and Scarlet focused on taking in the sites of tree leaves slowly changing color through the cab window. She was headed further downtown from her new apartment, and even still there were beautiful trees she wasn’t familiar with. This is exactly what I thought the East Coast to look like, and yet it’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined, she mused to herself. She was used to her hometown in the Bay, the palms and pines of the San Francisco and Oakland areas all she had made friends with until now. The trees were dotted in front of the tall downtown shops, looking like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She took a picture every now and again, killing time until her quiet cab driver pulled over to a sidewalk. Scarlet smoothed her skirt, handed the man his fare and a tip, and stepped out in front of a small office building. Her flats echoed against the shiny, reflective tile as she followed signs and elevator directories to Kane Arbitration & Mediation Legal Services.  The interior of the elevator shined, polished enough that Scarlet could see her own reflection.

 She took a moment as she rode to the fourth floor, using the reflection to adjust her skirt. She was so tall that no matter what she wore, it always eventually turned into a skirt shorter than intended, and that was the last thing she wanted to project on her first day.  Once the soft fabric was in place, better resting on her hips and covering much of her long thighs, she noticed she had arrived. Scarlet swallowed, her nerves making it louder than she had wanted, and exited as the doors parted. 

Kane Legal was one of the only offices on this floor, and it didn’t take her long to find, but she paused outside the door anyway. She took solace in the fact her new employer wouldn’t be able to see her through the doors frosted glass. Scarlet had a moment to steady the shaking in her hands. 

There’s nothing left for you back there. This has to work. You have no other option. The thought was supposed to be comforting. 

She opened the door and recalled all the times that thought would light a fire in her—to ignite the contrarian and spiteful nature she had to anyone that doubted her. A year ago, this would have made her unstoppable…but the last year was harder than she could have ever predicted. The reception area of the office was nicely decorated, looking like the kind you’d see on a mid-budget daytime law drama. No one was at the desk that she assumed would be hers, so she tried to peer around a corner leading to what she assumed would be Miss Kane’s proper office. Sure enough, a door at the end of the hall was open and revealed a head of deep black hair peaking just over the top of a large computer monitor. Scarlet took a moment for them to notice her.  

In another life, Scarlet would have confidently marched into the office, head held high, with enough swagger to convince anyone that she owned this office. Now the poor girl stood there, shivering as her future awaited. The Scarlet of a year ago would have left this newer Scarlet behind, just like the one she cared about the most. She prayed this wasn’t some kind of test. 

“Excuse me?” She called out, causing the head to twitch, “I’m looking for Miss Kane?”

The top of the head rose for a pair of eyes to see just over the top, and then a hand brusquely slid the monitor on a pivoting stand out of the way. Scarlet recognized her now, the telltale hazel, almost golden eyes and a striking streak of platinum blonde to one side having stuck with her since their video interview. “And you have found her.” Her voice merrily sang, reverberating down the tiled hall. She stood. “You must be Ms. Finch. I am so glad to finally get you out here. May I be the first to properly welcome you to Caulfield Valley, I hope your flight was smooth?” Scarlet was immediately put off balance, having to look up at someone for once. Even if Emilia Kane hadn’t been in imposing black heels, she would easily have three inches on the six feet even Scarlet. She effortlessly glided down the hall towards Scarlet, her hand outstretched. Scarlet met her, returning her’s for a handshake. The taller woman’s hands were so soft.

“Ah, t-thank you, Ma’am.” She politely smiled, and decided to rest her hands on the strap of her purse so as to not fidget. “I appreciate that, it was a long flight.” She wanted to divulge how exhausted and sore she was, but held back. 

“That is such a shame.” Emilia twisted her mouth into a concerned frown for a moment, a hand grabbing her chin in thought. “If you ever need to fly for me again, I can make sure you have better accommodations. Thankfully, your first day probably will not be too demanding. I am hoping to simply get you familiar with the way I organize best and have you operating at full speed before my next big meeting in…,” She checked the date on her phone, pulling it from the breast pocket of her dark green suit, “-three days. Does all that sound good?” Scarlet sighed in relief. “More than good, Ma’am, I’m sure I can be up to snuff by the end of the day.” She was a tiny bit surprised by how confident she sounded. “Oh please, Ma’am makes me feel old.” She waved a hand as if shooing the notion away, “I know to most it is respectful, but I prefer ‘Miss’ or just Emilia if it is all the same to you.” She rested the same hand now on her hips, which Scarlet noted were surprisingly accented in this type of suit. She nodded in response, and Emilia gestured for her to sit in the chair behind the receptionist desk. 

The woman looked like she was off a runway, the two piece suit and platinum jewelry complimenting her intense eyes and the vibrant streak of silver- no, platinum blonde in her hair. The hazel of her eyes became almost amber-gold as the light from the windows caught them. When her new employer wasn’t looking, she shook her head to erase the thoughts. Scarlet couldn’t exactly be thinking about how attractive her boss was if she didn’t want to risk her new living situation. 

“—and your last employer said you were familiar with all of these programs, is that right?” The question snapped Scarlet back to reality as Emilia motioned to the open windows of the computer. 

“That’s right. All of this is right in my wheelhouse.” Scarlet affirmed, grateful that the job didn’t seem to have any sudden surprises. “And this looks like a pretty standard inter-office set up on the phones as well. Would you prefer a call or a ping on your computer when you have a call or a client?” She hoped the question would help make her seem competent and ‘a go-getter,’ something her father had told her once upon a time about starting a new job. “A call is fine unless I am already with a client. If I do not respond, you may call regardless.” Emilia said, a small smile of approval spreading across her red lips. “On the topic of clients, occasionally you are to sit in for meetings and you will be taking notes. These are legal matters and meet the standard of attorney-client-privilege. So it is vitally important you understand that anything you hear or write down in those meetings are confidential, but could end up under scrutiny if we were ever to be sued or subpoenaed. Are you comfortable with that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Scarlet nodded, “To be clear, any notes I take are private between you and I unless that happens right? Like—” she kicked herself for her valleygirl filler word, and tried to recover, “a doctor? For example, I wouldn’t talk about this with anyone except you or the client, even during off hours?” Scarlet couldn’t lie to herself and say that didn’t make her anxious. Her understanding of the legal system told her there were a million and one ways to mess up proceedings if everyone didn’t know them ahead of time. The clarity would help alleviate that anxiety. 

“Exactly. We can talk about it informally outside of the office but we must use discretion. God forbid  you run into a client at a bar, make sure neither of you are shouting without realizing. However you got the most important part. Good job.”  Something inside Scarlet warmed at her new boss’s approval. Emilia’s phone lit up and began ringing in her hand. She rolled her eyes. “I have to take this,” she explained, grabbing a small packet from the top drawer of the desk, “Just answer the phone if any calls come in and start filling this out with your info so I can make payments and records and such. It will only take a moment!” Emilia walked back up the hall, closing the door of her office. Scarlet could hear her talking in a tone that sounded professional and even, but couldn’t make out anything specific. 

When Scarlet realized she could not eavesdrop, no matter how hard she tried to focus, she instead grabbed a pen from the desk and focused on the forms. They were typical of starting with any new employer: tax info, new address, signing agreements. Scarlet was sorely missing the over-designed packets she would receive on her first day at each of the oversized chain stores she had grown up working at. The kind that tries to convince the reader that “we’re a family here,” isn’t the same as “your boss will not give a single shit about you if you think for yourself.” They were always a riot to laugh at with her fellow cashiers, clerks, and baristas. 

Everything was astonishingly professional, and felt tailored to the tiny law office. The forms were of course up to every standard Scarlet was aware of, but everything appeared handwritten and then copied from a master document. The young woman marveled at the curves and loops that seemed so practiced, so official. Calligraphy as a hobby?

Scarlet’s daydream was broken as the phone rang. Her arm sprung to life, grabbing the phone and bringing it to her ear. “Hello, Legal Offices of Miss Kane, how can I help you?” Her mind auto piloted the greeting, a tactic she’d learned as a young adult to perform before any social anxiety made her hesitate to answer. 

There was a silent beat, broken only by soft background hum from the receiver. A deeper voice finally spoke. “Oh, is Miss Kane not in?”

“I’m sorry, she’s stepped away for another call. I’m the new secretary.” The professional mask came back to her like a second skin, despite over a year of disuse. “Can I take a message for you?”  Scarlet offered.

“Er,” The voice stammered for a moment, then clarified, “Yeah. Actually, you can tell her that I have to back out of Friday’s meeting, I won’t be rescheduling. She can keep the deposit. Goodbye.” Scarlet busied herself scribbling the note down. 

“Wait, I’ll need to tell her your name.” She tried to catch the man before he disconnected.

It was too late, the line went dead. Scarlet took a confused look at the receiver before returning it to the cradle. She tried to imagine what would have someone behaving this way, but even her previous customer support and retail work did not track here. Scarlet merely blinked in confusion and returned to filling her new employment forms. She could hear the muffled speech of her new boss, not able to pick distinct words, only cadence. The forms were dull and simple enough, and before too long Emilia’s office door clicked open. 

Scarlet was finishing the bottom lines of the last page, hoping quietly to impress the imposing woman, as childish as that want may be. Emilia’s heels marked her approach down the hall, and Scarlet spun gracefully in her swivel chair to face her. “Did I hear a call come in while I was gone?”

“You did, and I've got a message,” Scarlet tried her best to sound professional yet nonchalant, “your Friday meeting canceled, said to keep his deposit.” She looked up to Emilia to gauge her superior’s reaction. Emilia gave nothing but a solitary eyebrow twitch. “He didn’t leave a name and hung up…is that normal?” 

“Whether it’s normal or not, we get to keep the deposit for my time, and that’s what matters to me.” Emilia said, too hurried to be as casual. Scarlet decided to just let that slip.There was something going on here, but she would catch the intricacies of the client relationships soon enough. 

Emilia very pointedly avoided her gaze to check the time, and excused herself again. The rest of the day moved slowly, save for asking Scarlet for a coffee run in the afternoon, which turned into buying a cafe scone for Scarlet’s lunch as well. 

She busied herself with memorizing the upcoming schedule, the program, and the routine expected of her. She tried not to fidget as the caffeine had its way with her later in the day. The bouncing of her leg coincided with an increase in worry. Would she have another reaction to this medication like her last, and be unable to sleep? Would Emilia be angry that she wasn’t being proactive in some way? How was she supposed to know? She paused, trying to stop ruminating. She lifted her hands away from the keyboard. They were shaking, and she squeezed her eyes closed. When Scarlet opened them, they focused through her fingers, at the sticky note she had written down the message, and the smaller coffee order beneath it. Sighing, she wrote down the coffee order on her phone and on her desktop notepad. If she could do nothing, she would be constructive and prepared for the future. 

Her hands kept shaking for the remainder of the shift. Scarlet wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety, the caffeine, or her meds. She’d been so isolated until moving she hadn’t noticed if the shaking started then. Just past five, Emilia’s heels clicked down the hall, a smart designer purse over one shoulder. “Now, is there anything I can clarify before we leave?” Her voice sang again and the hall reverberated in tune with her voice like Brian Eno was behind it. Scarlet shook her head, smiling with her mask back on as she spun to face Emilia again. 

“Thank you so much, but I don’t think I’ve got any questions yet.” Scarlet wanted to be sincere in thanking her, drop the facade and business-casual tone. Speaking without rehearsal tended to bite her in the ass lately.  She squeezed her hands between her thighs to try and avoid any probing questions. Scarlet could only imagine suspicious and overbearing concern at best if her new boss thought there was something wrong with her medically. 

“Is there anything else I can help with? I’ve just been organizing your schedule and getting used to the layout in here all day.” She desperately wanted to get her groceries before it was too dark. 

“No thank you, Scarlet. You’ve already helped me enormously, you have no idea.” Emilia ushered Scarlet out the door, and locked it behind her. 

*  *

If one thing in the world could be counted on, it was chain stores being identical on the inside. Scarlet pushed an identically squeaky cart up identically packed aisles among indistinguishable brands. The only difference really seemed to be the accents. She approached bulk rice bags, hesitated, and drew out her phone with dread. Her meager bank account balance confirmed her fears, and she begrudgingly went for the generic. Other staples like cheap instant ramen and pasta followed suit. The sole splurge was the cheapest, sweetest, garbage brand of red wine she could find. 

Her cab ride was identical, save for the setting sun behind her. Purples and oranges and cotton-candy-clouds danced behind her, out of view, as she slowly sank her head against the cool glass of the window. At least the trees are still pretty. She raised her phone again to try and take a picture, but the camera went grainy in the growing dark. 

Her new apartment greeted her with the same lonely  tone as when she first received the keys. It was cold, it was empty, the furnishings were bland and picked by the property management company. Nothing here was hers yet, save the stacked boxes of cardboard. Her tired arms carried the groceries to their appropriate resting places, and she cracked open the wine before settling on the couch. Out of habit she reached for her remote, only to remember she didn’t have a TV yet. Sold for the moving expenses. 

Scarlet was so tired of sighing. She took a swig of wine, an old comfort that was basically a juicebox and rubbing alcohol that reminded her of being broke in college. She opened her phone, wishing for any stimulation. Her friends, (rather former friends)  were still posting stories, still sharing their bad takes and inane jokes. She considered getting off the couch to do the same. It was all performative anyway, right? But the energy wouldn’t come when she called out for it. Another sip, and she swapped apps. Scarlet noticed the singular blink of darkness on her phone’s screen.

“Please, you piece of shit. I really can’t afford you to die right now.”  Her worries seemed unfounded, as the brilliant screen returned and the malfunction wasn’t replicated for the rest of the night. What was strange, however, were the kinds of new accounts she was being recommended as she scrolled her timeline. 

Now, Scarlet was no prude. She enjoyed fucking and her alone time as much as anyone. Estrogen and Progesterone even maybe had her hornier than the average. But her timeline wasn’t  full of this much smut. She had friends in the sex work game, but she didn’t exactly like, share, favorite, reblog, or any other influencer verb their content. Another website breaking their algorithm again?  

Even if Dani did porn, she didn’t do this kind of porn. Morbid curiosity, and a slight increase in her pulse, beckoned Scarlet onward. 

Drawings, videos, and staged photos of women in things she’d only seen in racy HBO content. She didn’t even know what to call the more intricate…props…but felt herself linger on a clip of a woman riding a…pleasure machine plugged into the wall behind her. Scarlet’s face matched her namesake and she scrolled on. A woman sitting at a home office, the quintessential framing of every vlog you’ve ever watched. Finally somebody is fucking sane in this world. She clicked the video without even reading the caption, and the perky eyed labrador retriever of a woman began to speak.

“Hi everybody! This is the Channel of O. SO!” The blonde clapped for emphasis. “You’re trying to learn about BDSM, and you have no idea where to start.” Scarlet’s eyes went wide, she took another sip, and watched the woman jumpcut and explain through terrible jokes. It was a trainwreck, steam engines exploding in her mind. It made her hot in the crotch. Scarlet finished her glass, finished the video, and poured herself another while going deeper to the woman’s personal channel. More videos, more introductory guides. Scarlet polished the second glass, and was too engrossed despite the initial impulse to cringe to even pour another. 

Her alarm rang to remind her to take the rest of her medication, pulling her out of her trance.How long had she been zoned out? It was eight thirty. Losing track of time like that wasn’t uncommon for her and this diversion was welcome. She resigned herself and went to go take another dose of bitter antidepressants and her dose of Progesterone. Once the poison was administered, she looked across her kitchen to the counter where she left her phone. It lay there, like a metal megalith, imposing despite being a little plastic rectangle. Scarlet had to gather her nerve just to walk across the room and lift the damn thing. Once it was back in her hand, she used shaking hands to unlock it. The Channel of O was still smiling up at her, and she felt her cheeks getting redder. 

Her glass of wine was forgotten as she brought her phone to her bedroom. She unboxed her duvet, and sat on the soft material as the video resumed. Scarlet was enthralled, soaking in every bit of knowledge she could. 

“There’s all kinds of different dynamics! You’re probably familiar with a ‘master/slave’ dynamic,” The blonde woman began, “but there’s also pets and owners, and even daddies, mommies,—” Scarlet’s pulse quickened,”—or more generically caregivers and littles! Sometimes that’s called ABDL if it involves diapers.”  Scarlet felt her breath catch in her throat. Her fingers flew into a flurry, and a private internet search later, her phone was filled with images that made her heartbeat accelerate. 

Videos, drawings, and many, many depictions of adult women, with all their curves and freckles and other parts that excited Scarlet, in thick diapers. They ranged across all body types, and the infantile garb varied from plain white plastic to over the top patterns to evoke baby diapers. 

Scarlet continued to scroll, eyes wide in wonder and excitement. She finally stopped, a thumbnail capturing her attention like a punch to the gut and clicked the video. Scarlet’s mouth went wide, and felt herself starting to leak into her panties. 

A gorgeous, curvaceous woman was lying on her back,  supple lips wrapped around the nipples of another woman, in nothing but a pastel colored diaper and delicate, lacy lingerie top. The tender moment evoked  breastfeeding, save for the “mother” holding a massive vibrator against the woman’s…diaper. 

The “baby” of the couple was moaning, growing louder, and Scarlet felt a tent growing under her skirt. Eventually, the “baby” was screaming, thrusting her hips into the massive sex toy, in time with cries of “Mommy!”

Mommy’s smile was intoxicating. She was very clearly getting off just as much as her baby, her face painted a combination of maternal nurturing, hedonistic pleasure, ecstatic elation, and sadistic control as she began thrusting the enormous vibrator in time with her partner’s thrusts. 

It was obviously acting on the merit of pornography, but Scarlet couldn’t tear herself away. She allowed her hand to snake up to a nipple poking through her top. Scarlet realized her own arousal, and in embarrassment, closed the tab, flinging her phone to the edge of the bed like it was a dangerous spider. 

She flung the covers off, racing to the bathroom for a cold shower.  

My little one starts to wake from his nap under the shade of our tent, warm and flushed from sleep, with his paci still gently bobbing between his lips. He stretches, bunny clutched tightly to his chest, and makes the softest whimpery noise — like he’s not quite ready to give up his dream but knows Mommy’s here.

I reach down, brushing a few grains of sand from his cheek. “There you are, sleepyhead,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He opens those big, sleepy eyes and blinks up at me like a confused little duckling — soft, dazed, and so precious.

As I lift him into my lap, I feel it right away. That heavy, soggy squish between his thighs — warm and unmistakable. “Mmm… baby,” I hum teasingly, running a hand over the swollen front of his diaper. “Looks like someone had a big nap-time accident, huh?”

He lets out a shy little whimper and hides his face in my chest.

I lay him back on the towel with a kiss to his temple, grabbing the wipes and a fresh swim diaper. As I tear the sides on the old one, I can't help but giggle. “Oh sweetie, you really filled this one up, didn’t you? Poor squishy bum.” His cheeks are rosy now, squirming just a little, but I know he secretly loves this part — being totally bare, soft and exposed, right where Mommy can take care of every little need.

But there's another problem. Sand. It’s everywhere — sticking to his thighs, between his butt cheeks, clinging to every spot on his body.

“Alright, baby,” I say gently, helping him to his feet, his bare bottom catching the sun. “Let’s get that sandy bum rinsed off.”

He toddles beside me toward the outdoor shower, one hand clutching my fingers, the other still gripping his bunny. His steps are slow, and his head stays ducked down as we pass a few other beachgoers. His face is bright pink by the time we get there — bashful little thing, trying to hide behind me even though his bare cheeks are on full display.

“Aww, are you blushing, sweetheart?” I tease, brushing his hair from his eyes. “It’s okay. Everyone knows you’re just Mommy’s baby.”

I guide him under the warm water, holding him steady as the gentle spray hits his skin. He squeaks a little at the first touch, wiggling in place while I crouch down behind him. My hands move carefully — rinsing the sand from his back, his legs, and then finally down to his bottom. I take my time with that part, using slow circles to make sure every bit of grit is gone.

“Can’t leave any sand in those cute little cheeks,” I murmur, watching his blush deepen. “Gotta keep my baby all clean and comfy.”

By the time we head back to the tent, he’s clean, damp, and even more bashful than before — but there's a smile peeking out around his paci.

Back at the towel, I lay him down again, his bare skin warm from the sun and smelling faintly of saltwater. I powder him slowly, thoroughly — soft clouds puffing in the breeze as I work it into every fold and crease. The fresh swim diaper has little sea turtles on it, soft and puffy, and I stand him up to have him step into the swim diaper. “There,” I coo, smoothing it over. “Snug, crinkly, and ready for round two.”

Instead of a swim shirt, I decide to leave him bare-chested — his skin is just too soft and kissable to hide. His belly’s still a little round from lunch, and the way he giggles when I blow a raspberry on it? Irresistible. I slide his tiny swim trunks up his legs, tugging them over that thick diaper. They don’t quite hide it — the waistband of the diaper pokes out over the top, white and crinkly under the bright blue trunks.

“Too cute for words,” I say softly, adjusting the trunks just a little so the diaper still peeks out. “Let everyone see how well Mommy takes care of you.”

Then comes the sunscreen — cool and creamy against his warm skin. I rub it gently over his arms, his chest, his soft round tummy, down his legs and even the tops of his feet. He wiggles and giggles through it, squealing when I get to his ribs. “Almost done, silly goose,” I tease, planting a kiss on his nose.

That’s when Daddy walks over, towel slung over his shoulder and a smile already on his face. “Hey, there’s my sunshine boy,” he says, crouching next to us. “You all ready to go splash with Daddy?”

Our little one lights up immediately, wriggling up into his arms. Daddy scoops him up, patting that thickly diapered bum with one big hand. “Looks like Mommy got you all set. You're such a lucky boy,” he says, kissing his cheek and leaning down to give me a kiss.

They’re halfway to the water when it happens.

A flash of movement in the surf — slow, graceful — and our baby gasps. “Tuh… tuh… turtle!” he squeals, eyes wide, pointing frantically.

Daddy stops in his tracks, cradling him close. “You see the turtle, buddy?” he whispers, turning so they can both get a better look. The sea turtle bobs gently in the shallows, paddling calmly while the waves roll in around it.

Our little one is absolutely enchanted — slack-jawed with wonder, clutching Daddy’s neck while his legs kick excitedly in the air.

I watch them from the tent, hand resting over my heart, completely full. My sweet, squishy, sun-kissed baby boy — safe in his Daddy’s arms, dressed in nothing but his swim trunks and a diaper, thrilled by the simplest magic of the ocean.

"I swear Ellie, if your going to keep wetting yourself like a baby, then I'm going to put you in diapers like one." Ellie's mother scolded as she unfolded a large adult diaper, laying it out on the sofa and beckoning her daughter to sit on it.

Ellie blushed furiously as her panties were roughly yanked off.

"Mom! No. I don't need diapers. It's just an infection or stress or something." Ellie protested, laying down on the sofa. Her displeasure was in fact an act. Unbenowest to her mother Ellie had finally achieved her goal of being put back in diapers. She had been staging 'accidents' for a week now, careful to wet her pants only in the presence of her mother. She didn't want her friends finding out about this. It was an extreme solution to achieving her aim but Ellie didn't know how to speak to her mother about her secretive desires.

Ellie's mother proceeded to diaper her daughter for the first time since she had been a baby.

"Well, I've bought a whole package of these adult diapers for you. You are going to wear every single one of them before I let you wear panties like a big girl again. That's if you can stay dry. If you're still wetting by the time we get to eng of the package. I'll be buying you more. Understood?“

Ellie nodded to her Mother's ultimatum. Internally she was grinning, she had no intention of remaining dry over the next couple of weeks.

"Another thing. Baby girls don't wear grown up clothes."

Ellie gasped and struggled for real this time as her mother stripped her naked, depriving her of even her bra, leaving her nude, aside from her diaper.

"I've ordered some adult onsies online but until the arrive you'll be toddling around in just your diapers sweetie. Don't be embrassed. Little babies who aren't embrassed about wetting themselves also aren't ashamed of being nakey."