Freddysghost - Baby Nami

The differences between America and Canada

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My dad works for the military so we ended up moving around a lot over the years. The most resent move has been from LA to Vancouver. At the end of my last day of school before the move I began saying goodbye to my friends when the new transfer student from Canada asked to speak to me in private. She began telling me some spiel about Canadians not potty training their children and diapers being mandatory for anyone under the age of 21. She then lifted her skirt and showed that she was wearing a diaper as proof. Of course I laughed it off, I mean there’s no way that’s true right?

Well imagine my surprise a few weeks after we moved in when my new school uniform arrive and included with it was a pack of 25 teen sized diapers. Not just medical diapers mind you these looked like they were designed for teen sized babies! To make matters worse the uniform did very little to hid them!

My mom accompanied me to the principals office as part of my first day orientation. The principal understood my unique situation being from America and already being potty trained but explained that there were no student toilets at the school and introduced me to one of the school nurses who said that she was there to change my diaper should the need arise. I told her off saying that there was no way in hell that I’d ever willfully use a diaper like some baby. To which she just smirked and said “we’ll see”.

I had a few close calls during the first week but managed to keep myself from using any of the diapers that they were forcing me to wear as a part of the uniform. Luckily my parents didn’t make me wear them and I was aloud to wear my panties outside of school. But as the days went by I began to notice something strange. It started when I would wake up in the morning, for some reason I’d wake up to my panties moist and smelling like pee. I didn’t wet the bed it was just a little moist. At the time I chalked it up to not whipping properly before bed, but then I began to notice that whenever I needed to pee the tiniest amount would leak out causing my panties to become moist like in the morning. What the hell was going on. Then one day I woke up to find that I had wet the bed!

“It’s a fluke! A one time thing! I didn’t wet the bed! I’m not a baby like the rest of these Canadian losers!” I remember telling myself.

I quickly changed the sheets and put the wet ones in the wash before heading off to school. But my problems didn’t end there. During second period for some reason my bladder would not behave. It felt super full and begging for release! “What’s wrong with me I didn’t drink that much today. Did I not empty all of it onto my bed last night?” I thought as I struggled to hold it in. But it was too late. By the time the bell rang for lunch I had completely soaked my diaper and begrudgingly began my walk down to the nurses office to get changed.

“Ah. There you are.” The Nurse said looking over at me. “I was wondering when you’d finally find yourself here.” She said with a laugh. “Have a seat over there I’ll change you once I’m finished with this little one.”

After that day I started wetting all the time both during the day and at night. It wasn’t long until all my panties and other big girl clothes were thrown away and replaced by diaper and other Canada teen baby clothes. I guess it isn’t to bad though. Once I put my pride aside I actually managed to make some friends and while I still find the notion of a law mandating that everyone under the age of 25 to be in a car seat and not allowed in the front seat a little crazy the car seats themselves are quite comfortable.

“I still feel a little guilty about what we did.” My mom said to my dad as I listened to my music.

“I know honey but look how happy she is now. She’s fitting in at her new school, she’s making friends.” My dad said looking back at me.

“I know but putting those strange drugs in her food?”

“Well they were proscribed by the Nurse at her school so it’s like we just went out and started mixing medication on our own. Besides I read that almost all the food in Canada contains micro traces of the compounds the drugs are made of so it would have happened eventually. We just helped it along.”

“But if that’s true then are we at risk of becoming incontinent?”

“No. At the end of puberty the human body begins producing a hormone that neutralizes their affects. We’ll be fine and so will she. Trust me.”

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A sequel to my caption about a girl moving from Canada to America. This time it’s the reverse with a girl from America moving to Canada.

Art by Rocket Manatee.

“Is that your son Alex?” Grace asked seeing her friends son walk out of the house in a pink dress.

“Yes it is.” Alex’s mom said as her son walked towards them.

“But I thought you didn’t agree with the idea of petticoating?” Margaret said astonished at how Alex looked. “You said it was a bunch of misandrist hogwash.”

“Oh I still firmly hold that belief. And believe me it is.” Alex’s mom said taking a sip of tea.

“Then why is he wearing a dress?” Grace asked not understanding.

“Well you see, Alex came out to me as trans last week so we went on a big shopping trip yesterday and bought her a whole new wardrobe. We’ll be moving to a new house in September so Alexa, as she likes to be called now, can attend a more trans friendly school. Isn’t that right dear.” Alexa’s mom asked as she stat down next to her mom.

“Yes mommy and thank you for being so supportive and the new wardrobe.” Alexa said gratefully.

“You’re very welcome dear.” Alexa’s mom said before turning back to her friends. “As I was saying, you know how the kids and most of the other parents around here are. Despite the large number of mothers petticoating their sons there doesn’t seem to be much support for the LGBTQ+ community here. I guess things never change that much around here. So we’re just telling people she’s being petticoated until the move to avoid her being bullied to much.”

“Oh I understand.” Margaret said nodding. “It’s the same reason my brother moved out after he met his boyfriend.”

“Mhm. It’s one thing for someone to be trans and support them but forcing a gender identity/role on people is just not right.” Alexa’s mom said hugging her new daughter.

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Loosely based on PJ’s Tales of the Petticoated:

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft golden streaks, bathing the room in a dreamy haze. Bennie lay sprawled on her side atop the bed, still dressed in her light blue work blouse and a pair of snug pajama shorts hastily pulled on over her diaper after she’d come home. Her chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm, the serene picture of someone deep in a much-needed nap.

Her Daddy, Matthew, entered the apartment quietly. The sound of the door closing and the jangle of his keys was muted—he knew better than to disturb Bennie’s precious post-work naps. After slipping off his shoes and setting his bag aside, he made his way to the bedroom. The sight that greeted him made him pause, a soft smile curling his lips.

Bennie had shifted in her sleep, now half-curled on her side with one leg bent and her hand lazily drifting over the back of her diaper. Even in her dreams, her fingers absentmindedly traced the soft crinkling padding, a small sigh of contentment escaping her lips. The faintest hint of a blush touched her cheeks as Matthew stepped closer, careful not to wake her too abruptly.

“Someone’s enjoying herself,” he murmured under his breath, a quiet chuckle rumbling through his chest.

As if responding to his voice, Bennie’s lashes fluttered, and she stirred, her hand now giving the back of her diaper a slow rub. Her eyes blinked open, the haze of sleep slowly giving way to the warm realization that Daddy was home.

“Mmm, Daddy?” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with sleep as she stretched out, her fingers grazing the waistband of her shorts. “You’re home?”

Matthew leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, his hand smoothing her hair back from her face. “I’m home, sweetheart. Looks like someone had a good nap,” he teased gently, his gaze flicking to her still-resting hand.

Bennie’s cheeks turned pink, but she didn’t move her hand away. Instead, she gave him a sheepish smile, biting her lip. “It was a good nap. I might’ve been… um… enjoying my diaper a little bit.”

Matthew chuckled, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. His hand rested on her hip, giving her a playful squeeze. “Nothing wrong with that, baby girl. But I think it’s time we get you ready for ballet class, don’t you?”

Bennie’s eyes lit up at the mention of ballet, but she shifted hesitantly. “I guess so. Is my diaper okay?”

Matthew leaned over, gently tugging at the waistband of her shorts to peek inside. He gave her an approving nod, his smile widening. “Just a little wet. You’ll be fine until after class. Now, let’s get you into your leotard.”

He stood and retrieved her black leotard from the closet, holding it up with a dramatic flourish. “The star of the show needs to look her best,” he teased, making Bennie giggle.

She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and lifting her arms so he could help her out of her blouse. The soft crinkle of her diaper accompanied every movement as Matthew guided the leotard over her head and down her torso. The snug fabric hugged her form, accentuating the outline of her diaper underneath.

“There we go,” Matthew said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “My beautiful ballerina is ready to go. How does that feel?”

Bennie gave a little twirl, the leotard’s fabric stretching over her diaper with every movement. “It feels perfect,” she said, beaming up at him. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Matthew reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Anything for my little girl. Now, let’s grab your ballet bag and get going. We don’t want to keep your teacher waiting.”

Always Read The Course Syllabus

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I’m sure we’ve all heard the story of the guy that accidentally ended up joining the girls gym class after writing down the wrong course code when selecting his courses for the year. But that’s all it was right? A story they tell new students to make sure they sign up for the right course. Nobody would be that stupid. Or so I thought.

At my high school they offer a wider range of courses than most. Some of them considered strange and unusual. And some, unfortunately, are spelled similar to other classes.

Enter my dyslexic ass. I thought I was signing up for Shop Class when I wrote down the class code. Imagine my surprise when I showed up to class only to find out it was Swap Class!

I went to the school counsellor to see if I could and get switched into shop but unfortunately I was told that all the elective classes were full and that I was stuck.

“The point of Swap Class,” The teacher explained. “Is to give you experiences you wouldn’t otherwise have the chance to.”

What that meant was that our names were all put on one of two parts of a wheel and who ever we landed on our lives were swapped. There was one problem though. There was an uneven number of students in the class so the teacher put the category of Random on the wheel as well.

How random worked was each student put a life experience suggestion into a hat and who ever landed on random would pull one of the suggestions out of the hat and that will be the life they’ll live for the rest of the course.

If I ever find out who wrote Baby Girl I’ll kill them. The moment I drew the suggestion the teacher wrote a note and sent me to the nurses office where I was changed into a diaper and given a girls uniform.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just at school but apparently the teacher called our parents and told them we have to continue the assignment at home as well! It took my parents less than a week to put all my boy stuff in storage, turning my room into a giant pink girly nursery. They even put a lock on the bathroom so I had to use my diapers! To top it all off they’ve even enrolled me in daycare when I’m not at school.

Oh and did I mention the course spans two semesters?! This is going to be a long school year.

My advice and warning to you is to READ THE COURSE SYLLABUS!

“This is what I wanted. This is what I wanted.” I kept repeating to myself.

It was true this was what I wanted but now that it’s happening I have mixed feelings. For a two years now I had been secretly wearing my older sister’s clothes without her knowing. Then one day out of curiosity I tried on one of my little sister’s goodnites and was instantly hooked. From then on I started wearing my little sisters clothes instead and slowly realized that I wanted to be a baby girl. I didn’t know how to tell my mom about my feelings so I started getting careless about not being caught. And then it happened.

One day my mom said she and my sisters were going out and wouldn’t be back until the evening of the next day and that I’d have the house to myself for the night. I took the opportunity to sleep exactly like a baby in my little sisters cote with foldable rails. We ate dinner as night and soon I was completely alone. I changed out of my boy clothes and into one of my little sisters goodnite and nightgowns. I got into the cot and pulled up the rails before putting the Disney Princess blankets over me and snuggled with one of the stuffed animal my little sister usually did.

I woke up the next morning with a strange taste in my mouth and a cold wet feeling between my legs. Before I could fully wake up and start analyzing what was going on I heard someone open the bedroom door. I looked over to see my mom walk in and close the door behind her.

“Good morning baby girl.” She said walking over to me. “I’m sorry I lied about you having the house to yourself for the night but I had to know if you actually were the who was stealing your sisters clothes and goodnites.” She then explained that she knew someone had been taking my little sisters goodnites and dresses for awhile now but didn’t know if it was me or my older sister, so she set this night up as a trap to see if it was me and was planning something similar next week if it was my sister. “But I guess there’s no point now that I found my new baby girl.” As she was explaining I realized that the strange taste in my mouth was a pacifier. “Don’t bother trying to say that this is your first time or a one time thing as I already found your stash of her clothes that were supposed to be donated to goodwill.” She said before I could retort. “Now here are the rules you will be following from now on:”

1. Because this must be what you want you are a baby girl now and will be expected to behave as such. This means you are the youngest member of the family making your little sister your older sister and you will address her as such.

2. You are no longer allowed to wear pants. From now on you will only wear skirts, dresses and tights.

3. The toilet is off limits. You will wear and use your diapers for their intended purpose.

4. You will refer to me as mommy just like all baby girls address their mothers.

“Now lets get you changed. The medicine on the pacifier I put in your mouth last night should have made you wet by now.” She lowered the rails and changed me into a pink despicable diaper, pink dress, white tights and put two pink bows in my hair. “Remember this is what you wanted.” She said before leaving to get breakfast ready.

“This is what I wanted.” I said to myself.

Today we once again visit the world of The Last Chance Reform Schools and Clinics for Troubled Children.

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Dorthy looked down at her two new daughters and smiled as she sat in their crib and fed them. It’s hard to believe by looking at them that they used to be Harvey and Lucy, the most feared teens in their town.

They were a brother and sister duo that would constantly skip school to go around breaking things and mugging people. Until one day they tried robbing a convenience store not realizing the three other customers in the store were off duty police officers. They were quickly arrested and sentenced to the Last Chance Reform School and Clinics. Lucy to the one for girls and Harvey to the one for boys.

During their sentencing it was reviled that the two were actually orphans as both their parents were dead. It’s a little known fact that some of the students at the reform schools are actually orphans with no one to take care of them upon graduation.

When Dorthy’s friend who worked at one of the schools told her that she was shocked and instantly volunteered to adopt one of the poor dears. Her friend brought her the profiles of the orphaned children at the two reform school. As Dorthy flipped through the profiles she noticed something.

As she was reading the names on the profiles she saw the same last name go by twice. Taking the profiles out of the piles she compared the two.

“They were sentenced on the same day so they might be sisters”

Dorthy had thought at first before seeing that they went to different schools. Still curious about them Dorthy asked her friend about the two. Her friend explained that they were brother and sister and how they ended up at the schools.

After thinking it over Dorthy told her friend that she would adopt both of them. After signing all the legal papers Dorthy began visiting the two and participating in the bonding exercise before being allowed to take them home and help them back onto the right track.

(Sad Infomercial music starts playing)

Hi. I’m some-celebrity-you-think-you-recognize-but-aren’t-entirely-sure-from-where.

It’s actually a little known fact that 1/3 of all students at The Last Chance Reform Schools and Clinics are orphans without any family to take care of them. Orphans just looking for someone like Dorthy to love them and help them stay on the straight and narrow. Please call the toll free number below to apply for adoption today and help babies like Harley and Lucy find loving homes or call the number at the bottom of your screen, once again toll free, to donate to the schools to help support them in helping young teens stay out of trouble. If you do you will receive a reusable bag containing a special gift, info about other ways of supporting the schools and helping their students, and this stuffed bear. All donations over $50 also receive a handmade thank you card from one of the students. So please call now and help change the life of a troubled teen today.

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Thank you to @jsolano318 for providing the picture.

Art by Rocket Manatee.

“Shh, sweetie, what’s wrong? What’s going on in here, baby? Mommy heard you squirmng all around in your beddie-bye all the way from her room! Is something bothering her little baby?”

Oh, that look my little one gives me as he stares up at me with that potent mingling of guilt, humiliation, and abject desperation written all over his flushed face. I don’t consider myself cruel, of course - no one really likes to think of themselves that way. But that helpless expression of his does incredible things to me - sets my heart racing, my knees trembling with excitement, my lower regions tingling. There is something so primal, so utterly, fascinatingly pleasurable about turning the guy you love into such a helpless, horny heap of hormones… And cruel or not, when I am tempted to feel bad I always remind myself that he wanted this. He even begged me for it once, so many months ago now…

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