Trick Or Treat

They Grow Up So Quickly

“Which one is yours?” 

Lina glanced up as the thirty-something man settled onto the bench beside her. He was tall, almost lanky, with the vibe of a college professor or perhaps a mildly hip accountant: green sweater vest with an anti-Pebble Mine pin on the left breast, neatly trimmed beard with a few flecks of gray, chestnut hair just this side of untamed. He rested a leather messenger bag on the bench between them. English lit essays waiting to be graded, Lina guessed. Or maybe sheet music?

She pointed. “That’s my boy over there. Teddy.” 

“In the green jumper?” 

Lina shook her head. “No. Teddy’s the one, uh…pushing the dump truck in the sandbox.” 

Teddy was pushing more than just a toy dump truck. His bottom hovered an inch above the mounded sand. One hand rested on the yellow and black truck while the other was braced on the ground. He stared into space, lips pursed, his face red as an heirloom tomato. 

“Ah,” the man said. “The squat. I know that position well.” 

Lina sighed. “Indeed.” 

“Let me guess: you changed his diaper, what, an hour ago?” 

“I wish. Twenty minutes, tops. Right before we left home. And it was a messy one.” She shook her head. “How many times can one boy fill his pants in a day?”

The man smiled and extended a hand. His grip was firm but gentle. “Matt.” 

“Lina.”

“Nice to meet you, Lina.” He pointed. “That’s my girl over there. Ellie. Cute as a button, but she might give your little guy a run for his money in the stinky diaper department. I swear we can’t get through a week without a total blowout. On Tuesday, it was in the checkout line at Kroger.” 

Lina winced. “Yikes.”

“That’s what the cashier said.” Matt shrugged. “Comes with the territory, right?” 

“I guess it does. Seems like just yesterday I put Teddy back in diapers full-time. Those first few months were rough. He’d rip them off whenever I wasn’t home and use the toilet. Then he’d lie about it. As if I couldn’t see the fluff and beads all over the bathroom floor.”

“Not anymore, huh?”

She chuckled. “These days, I’m not even sure he knows he’s peed until I grab him for a change.” 

“Ellie was enamored with the idea of being my little forever-princess. She liked the cute stuff, at least. The clothes and the dolls. Pacifiers and storytime. And she loved not having to go to work anymore. The diapers were another story. But she’s adjusted.” 

Ellie rode one of the swings, pumping her legs slightly out of sync, blonde pigtails flipping back and forth. She kicked her white velcro sneakers out when she was partway through each arc, and then pulled them back in a half-second too late. 

“She’s adorable.” 

“She’s a handful, but I love her to bits.” 

They sat silently, watching their partners play in the warm afternoon sun. 

Ellie slid off the swing and walked over to the sandbox. She observed Teddy for a moment, then plopped down in the sand next to him and picked up a plastic shovel. She scooped a shovelful of sand and emptied it into the back of Teddy’s dump truck. He smiled at her. She smiled back. 

“Looks like Ellie might have made friends with your little guy,” Matt said. 

“Wouldn’t that be nice. I’ve been looking for a playmate for Teddy. We’ve been to a couple of get-togethers at the Bigs-N-Littles group on Market and Stuyvesant.”

Matt nodded. “We went once, too. Not really our vibe.” 

“Ours either. We met a boy and his mommy. They seemed nice. Until the biting.”

“The biting?” 

“No clue how it got started. Teddy still won’t talk about it. They were playing in the other room, then the next thing I knew, Teddy was screaming, blood running down his arm. I couldn’t believe it. They’re not actual toddlers, you know? And the worst part was, his mommy laughed it off, like it was no big deal.” 

“Baby boys will be baby boys?” Matt asked. 

“Pretty much. Teddy had the brat’s teeth marks on his wrist for two weeks.” 

“Some people,” Matt said, shaking his head.  

“You’d think with lifestyles like ours, there’d be some common values, right? Things all of us mommies and daddies just agree on without even having to talk about it.” 

“Like no biting.”

“Like no biting. Seems like a low bar when you say it out loud, doesn’t it? The vanilla world doesn’t get us. But sometimes, I don’t think I understand a lot of our people either.”

“I know what you mean.”  

They sat in silence, watching the two big babies play in the sand. 

Ellie wrinkled her nose and said something to Teddy that Lina couldn’t hear, but didn’t need to in order to guess the meaning. A moment later, she stood up and stomped over to the park bench. “He’s stinky!” 

Matt chuckled. “You sure that’s not you, darlin’?” He reached up and gave the sandy seat of her pink overalls a squeeze. 

She twisted away from him and glanced at Lina. “I use da potty.” 

“Sweetheart,” Matt said, “we’ve talked about this. Diapers are your potty. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Certainly not in front of Teddy’s mommy.” 

Teddy ambled over slowly. He stood a few feet back from the bench, eyeing the group suspiciously. Even the brisk, early-fall breeze and the scent of grilled onions and peppers drifting over from the hot dog stand across the square couldn’t cover the earthy stink of his freshly-loaded diaper. 

“Teddy, please come here,” Lina said, beckoning him closer with her finger.

He shook his head, his long, brown hair flopping around. “I’m playin.’”

“Teddy. Don’t make me ask you again.” 

He walked over with that awkward, bow-legged stance that Lina teasingly referred to as his ‘stinkypants shuffle.’ He scowled at her the whole way, as if his full diaper and subsequent embarrassment were her fault. At this distance, with his butt at eye level, the smell was overpowering. She glanced at Matt, wondering if she should apologize for the stench, then decided he must be used to these kinds of odors. 

“Smells like someone has stinky britches,” she said to Teddy. “Is that you, Sweet Pea?” 

“Just toots,” Teddy said with resolve.  

“It’s him, it’s him!” Ellie shouted, pointing. “He pooped his pants!” 

Teddy shot her a withering glare. 

Lina reached up and patted the sizeable lump in the back of his denim shorts. “Looks like someone left Mommy a big ol’ present in his diapie. Why don’t we go take care of that before you start leaking in your pants. Say goodbye to your little friend.” 

Teddy’s scowl deepened. “I don’t wanna. I’m playin’.”

Lina pulled his diaper bag onto the bench. Public bathroom changes were never fun, but at least Lil’ Park had a family restroom.  

“We should probably get going soon, too,” Matt said to Ellie.

“No! I wanna keep playin’ wif Teddy,” Ellie said. “We’re making a princess castle.” 

Matt and Lina exchanged a look. Matt shrugged. 

“You don’t care that Teddy is poopy?” Lina asked Ellie.

“I’m not poopy!” Teddy snapped. “I said it’s just toots.” 

“It’s okay, Teddy.” Ellie smiled at him reassuringly. “Sometimes I make stinky britches too.” 

Teddy’s cheeks blossomed into a vibrant shade of red, but he smiled hesitantly. 

“I suppose you can play for a few more minutes if it’s okay with Ellie’s daddy,” Lina said. “Matt?” 

Matt glanced at his watch. “Ballet doesn’t start until 6:00, so we can hang out a little longer if you two are having fun.” 

Ellie nodded her head vigorously.

“Alright,” Lina said. “Run along, then. Oh, and Teddy?” 

He stopped and turned around. 

“No backtalk when I have to change those smelly buns of yours, alright?”

“Okay!” he shouted over his shoulder as the two ran off toward the sandbox.

“Thanks for being flexible,” Lina said to Matt. “It’s nice to see him making friends. Especially ones that don’t care when he smells like that.” 

Matt smiled. It was a nice smile, Lina decided. Warm. Genuine. “Ellie doesn’t usually just click with people like this, either. Not everyone likes playing in the sandbox as much as she does.”

“Which is crazy, because sand castles are frickin’ awesome. Though mine were always for dragons and their heaps of treasure. No knights or princesses allowed.” 

“Want to build one now?” Matt asked. 

“A sand castle? Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” Matt’s sea-green eyes lingered on hers. “I bet it’s like riding a bike.” 

“You might be able to talk me into it. But only if I get the shovel. You can have the dump truck, I suppose.” 

“Deal,” Matt said. “But it’ll be a knight’s castle, no princesses and definitely no dragons.”

“Hhhhhmm. Maybe one big castle with two separate wings? One for the elegant, shimmering dragons and another for the boring old knights and their rusty armor.”

Matt rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “A compromise, eh?”

Lina shrugged. “Stranger things have happened than knights and dragons getting along.” 

An angry shout erupted from the sandbox, drawing her attention. Teddy stuck out his lip and kicked the dump truck away with his foot. Ellie looked at him in surprise, then down at the castle, which had collapsed into a pile of sand and a solitary, leaning turret. 

Lina sighed. “Here we go. Tantrum incoming.” 

Ellie stood up and yanked on Teddy’s arm. He looked as if he was going to resist, then shrugged and stood up, arms crossed in a childish pout. Ellie whispered something in his ear and then charged headlong towards the swing set. She dropped onto her belly on a swing, soaring with her hands extended forward like Superman. Teddy’s eyes grew wide, and a grin spread across his face. He ran after her and flopped down onto the swing next to hers. His legs flew too high and he nearly flopped forward off the swing, faceplanting in the sand. Then he corrected his balance and stretched out flat as she had, bellowing with laughter. 

“Or maybe not,” Lina said. “Huh.” 

Typically, this sort of thing would send Teddy into a spiral of pouting and fussing. Sometimes even name-calling. Once, during an epic fit at her mother’s house over Moose Tracks ice cream, Lina had nearly called the whole thing off. Told him they should return to how things were before. When he’d wipe his own ass and bring home a paycheck every two weeks. When a bad day meant an evening at Tio’s with Jeff and Luke. She’d loathed those evenings at the time. He’d stumble home reeking of stale sweat and tequila, expecting sex because it ‘helped him clear his head.’ She’d tolerate a few minutes of awkward groping and half-hearted thrusting followed by a couple of tepid spurts. Only the ear-splitting snoring that followed truly evoked a response from her body. But then that would be that. She’d put on her headphones, pour a steaming mug of yerba mate and forget all about Ted and his pissy attitude. The next day, all would be forgotten. 

That’s not how things were with Teddy. When Teddy was angry, or sad, or his tummy hurt, it was her problem until it was resolved. And on that particular day at her mother’s, it meant he was hucking Hot Wheels at the living room wall, screaming for more ice cream, while she gulped a glass of wine in the kitchen and tried to collect her thoughts. 

Then, in the middle of his epic ice cream shit-fit, he’d kicked the couch leg. At least, that’s what she pieced together later. He kicked it hard enough she heard the crack from the kitchen. He started crying. Wailing, really. A gasping, red-in-the-face howl that set off car alarms and made dogs bark three blocks away. When she rushed into the room, he’d looked up at her, eyes full of tears. All anger vanished. He needed her. Needed her comfort. Her support. Her love. All her doubts and second-guessing melted away. She wrapped him in her arms, and all was forgotten. Or nearly forgotten: she’d still spanked his bottom bright red when they returned home, but he’d known he deserved it and kept his complaints to a couple of yelps during the paddling and a lingering sniffle afterward. 

“I’m not sure what Ellie just did, but it seems like it worked,” Lina said. “Maybe she could teach me a thing or two about managing my boy’s moods.”

“You know, her ballet lessons have been a huge help,” Matt said. “It’s a mommy-and-me class with a bunch of other littles. Miss Kara stresses empathy and understanding. Turns out a lot of littles give up on manners along with their potty training. I’ve seen a big change in her behavior since we started going.” 

“Sounds fantastic.” Lina stared straight ahead and tried to keep her voice casual. “Does Ellie’s mommy enjoy the class too?” 

“No mommy,” Matt replied, his tone even. “It’s just me and the punkin’ these days.” 

Lina felt a surge of excitement at that answer, followed by an equally strong pang of guilt. Better than anyone, she knew how lonely this life could be. 

“Well. I’m sure you look stunning in a floofy tutu,” she said. 

“I do, in fact.” 

Lina turned toward him. “No way.” 

He was either telling the truth, or he had a killer poker face. Lina found herself hoping it was the former. The image of this handsome, confident man dancing around in a pink, glittery tutu made her smile. 

“What? You don’t think I can pull it off?” he asked.  

“Oh, I’m sure you could, I just don’t think you do. I might need to ask Ellie to confirm.”

“Go for it.” 

“I will,” she said. “You’re gonna be so embarrassed when she tells me what a big, fat liar her daddy is.” 

“Or…” Matt said.

“Or?”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. See for yourself.” 

“Nice try, but last I checked, those are Dockers you’re wearing, and I don’t think you’ve got a tutu hidden underneath them either.” 

He shook his head. “No hidden tutu. Join us at ballet tonight. Miss Kara takes walk-ins. First class is always free.”

Did he just ask her out? On a date? Couldn’t be. They’d just met. And most of their conversation had centered around dirty diapers and sand castles. “Thanks for the invite, but we need to get home and make dinner. Teddy skipped his nap today, so it’ll be an early bedtime.” 

“Ah,” Matt said. 

Was that disappointment in his voice? He didn’t employ any of the polite little lies you tell someone to let them off the hook easily. He just let the awkwardness hang in the air. 

Lina turned her attention back to Ellie and Teddy. Ellie had abandoned her Superman routine and was straddling one of the swings, rocking back and forth and shouting ‘giddyup!’ at the top of her lungs. One hand clutched the chain, the other whipped through the air. Teddy watched for a second, then started to climb onto the swing with her. 

“Wait!” Lina shouted. 

Too late. Teddy awkwardly lowered himself onto the swing with his new buddy, no doubt spreading and squishing the mess in his pants into something truly unholy. 

“And there’s your blowout for the week,” Matt said. 

Lina sighed. “No kidding. Looks like we’ll need to build in tubby time, too.” 

If Ellie minded the smell, or the extremely cramped quarters, it didn’t show. She threw her head back and laughed as they started to swing back and forth together. Teddy grinned and shouted ‘giddyup!’ whenever she did. 

“Sometimes I’m envious,” Matt said. “The way she can just be in the moment. Not a care in the world. Not worrying about emails or bills or whether she looks silly.” 

“I know what you mean,” Lina said. “Then again, I’m not sure I could give up espresso. Or true crime podcasts. Or Chilean Merlots.” 

“Or the toilet, for that matter,” Matt added with a chuckle. 

“There’s that,” Lina said, laughing along with him. 

Still, the joy on Teddy’s face made her wonder. He looked content. More than content, really—joyful. Rapturous, even. Almost like he was having a…

Lina leaned forward for a closer look. “Uh, Matt.” 

“What’s the matter?” Matt asked. He looked where Lina was pointing. “Oh. Huh.”  

The swing hung in place, Ellie and Teddy’s equestrian escapades forgotten. The two stared into each other’s eyes, all their attention on grinding their two diaper bulges against one another. 

“I am so sorry,” Lina said. “I let Teddy out of his chastity cage today so he could air out a bit. Honestly, it’s been so long since he’s been unlocked—or even asked about being unlocked—I thought maybe he’d just…I dunno, forgotten about all of that stuff?” 

“It’s alright. I’m sure Ellie instigated it. I’ve walked in on her having lots of vigorous one-on-one time with her dolphin stuffy lately.” 

Lina started to stand up. “We should break this up before—” 

“Before what?” Matt asked.

She looked away. “Before they, you know…” 

Matt shrugged. “Looks like they are both having a good time, doesn’t it?” 

Lina considered that for a moment. She settled back onto the bench. “I suppose so. After so many bubble baths and diaper changes, I guess I kind of forget about the grownup inside him, you know? I don’t see that side much anymore. I miss it sometimes, I think.” 

“I know what you mean.”  

The two had picked up the pace of their diaper humping. 

“I don’t imagine we’ll have to wait too long,” Lina said. “Teddy was always more of a sprinter than a marathon kinda guy.” 

Matt laughed. 

Lina giggled. “Sorry. You probably didn’t need to hear that.” 

“It’s okay. But looking at Ellie’s face, I’m going to have to disagree. I bet she’ll beat him there by a mile.” 

“No frickin’ way.” 

Matt raised an eyebrow. 

Lina felt that familiar flush of embarrassment. Were they actually betting on whether her boy would spurt in his diaper first? She decided to ignore that anxious, uptight voice in her head. If Teddy could live his life in the moment, following his instincts, why couldn’t she? At least once in a while. “Okay, you’re on. If I’m right, you have to change a positively toxic diaper.” 

“You think he’ll let me change him?”

“You think I’ll give the little stinker a choice?”

“Fair point.” 

“And if Ellie beats my boy there…” Lina struggled to think of a fair wager. 

“You’ll buy me a cup of coffee after ballet.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“If my girl gets there first, you two join us for ballet class, and then we get coffee afterward.”

Lina’s heart skipped a beat. “We have to get home. Teddy needs his dinner and his tub.” 

“Then come to my place instead.” 

“Your place?”

“I have all of the essentials: chicken nuggets, bubble bath, and an unopened bag of Ethiopian beans that’ll knock your socks off.”

Lina tried not to let the excitement show on her face. “I don’t know. It’ll be late. Besides, I thought I was supposed to pay for the coffee?” 

“The kiddos can play after their bath. Ellie has blocks and trains and a dollhouse and all kinds of fun stuff. We can sip some coffee on the balcony. Or Merlot, if that’s how the spirit moves.” 

Ellie looked at the two on the swing, lost in their own, sensual little world. They both looked happy. Present in the moment. Connected. Maybe she could have something like that too. Even if just for an evening. 

She turned back toward Matt. “You know, I think I’d like that.”

If you enjoyed this short tale, you'll love my full-length stories - check 'em out on Smashwords!

How many stories have you completed?

I had to go back and count. "Completed" being the operative word. I am terrible at finishing or adding chapters to longer stories. I tend to either lose steam or not know where to take the story. But I compiled almost everything I've written that's over 3k words. I tried to post links to the ones that have previews/full-releases on free sites. All of them can be found on Patreon:

The Boss' Baby

Besties - Part 1 , Part 2

Big Daddy

Date Night

Diaper Cuck - Excerpt 1 , Excerpt 2

DREAMS Daycare

Egg Hunt

Feels Like The First Time

Here Comes the Airpwane

Maw

Meet The Parents - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Monitored

Practice Makes Perfect

Princess Pampers

Prudish

Reflections

Rent-A-Bull

Road Trip

Season's Greetings

Severance

Stuffed

Tales From a Mommy Blog

The Baby Shower

The Box

The Check-Up

The Satin Sock

The Wet Nurse

Tinder Love and Care

Under His Thumb

Weekend Services

You Should Smile More

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Ongoing/Abandoned Projects

ABCDegree

Go Ask Alex

Hoetel Bimbo

Joy Ride

New World Order

Sissy School - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Sorority Boys - Chapter 1, Chapter 2

The Hunt

The White Rabbit

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This obviously doesn't include the mini-stories and captions I've written, but I'm not about to go back and count all of those, lol.

I'm going to pin this post if that's okay. I've been meaning to catalogue this for a long time, so thanks for this question to finally make me get off my lazy ass and do it. I will try to update as more gets released.

If you'd like to find my on other sites, here's All My Links

The Babies of New York City

Fine I’ll write more smut. I’ll even make it relevant to the current housing crisis. Please message me any spelling / grammar mistakes you find. I will also remove pictures at your request.

I am also not sure this story is particularly good so any feedback is appreciated.

The women of New York City weren’t smart.

All Mike had to do to lure them in was offer his apartment at a price below market rate. Within days of listing he would have hundreds of applicants pleading to rent it out. Of those hundreds of applicants, he could always find a few young beautiful women who looked like they could be easily trained.

The first step was always simple: let them move in normally. These young women would start cautiously but slowly over the days and months let their guards down. Once they stopped locking their doors and sleeping with one eye open, he could spring the first part of the trap.

The girls never questioned the free speakers he provided in the apartment – too excited about the high-quality music to question his intent. The hypnosis tapes were almost too good to be true. Subliminal messaging massaging their minds as they slept, keeping them just awake enough to take in the training.

After a week of their minds being bombarded with suggestions as they slept, they would find themselves slipping up and having tiny accidents during the day. Take Molly as an example, the most recent of his conquests.

One day, seemingly out of nowhere, she found herself with a nasty case of stress incontinence. Every chuckle, sneeze, and startle sent a spurt of urine into her underwear. She was sure this wasn’t the way it had always been for her, but for reasons she couldn’t explain it didn’t bother her all that much. Molly had such an easy solution – Goodnites! She wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but it was perfect for her newfound bladder problems.

Sometimes when she really thought about having to wear training panties her head would start to hurt, but she found that sucking her new pacifier always calmed her down. A damp pull-up and a pacifier between her lips just felt normal to Molly.

But Mike wanted far more than a bunch of barely potty-trained girls dumbly sucking pacifiers. The tapes progressed over time, infecting their minds as they nibbled their pacifiers and dribbled into their training panties.

As their programming progressed, the girls would lose more and more of their continence. Stress incontinence turned into a complete inability to control their bladders. This was Mike’s favorite part, because the demotion of the girl to her diapers was unique every time.

Some girls, like Miranda, would refuse to believe that anything was different. She woke up every morning with a leaking pair of training panties and had to move to the thickest diapers she could find, but in her mind, everything was completely normal. She had no reason to change how she dressed, despite the formerly form-fitting skirts doing nothing to hide her ridiculously thick padding. She just viewed herself as an adult wearing slightly thicker underwear and had no reason not to do the things she loved (liked visiting the cinema).

But every girl really was unique – some girls spiraled almost immediately after leaking in their Goodnites once. Morgan was the most recent example. She loved the cheap rent and made no association between the apartment and her newfound potty problems. She handled the transition to thicker diapers in the complete opposite way.

Morgan gave up control so easily. She settled on even thicker diapers than Miranda, not minding how the infantile characters and pink color made her look like she enjoyed wearing them. As she grew accustomed to wearing and wetting them, she seemed to lose most of her purpose in life. She spent most of her days crawling around her apartment, diaper on full display and pacifier firmly tucked into her mouth. She felt at peace like this – not a single thought under the infantile pink bow she attached to her hair each morning.

However, the transformation wasn’t complete until the girls messed themselves. It would have been so easy to have them squatting down in their pampers after a day of a new hypnosis tape, but Mike wanted this part to always be on their own. It was fun to see how each girl would end up pooping their pants. Some girls gave into the convenience once they were diapered 24/7 anyway, while some fought long and hard before failing in public because of some bad food.

His favorites were always the accidents – the ones that the girls couldn’t stop. Sure, it was adorable to watch them purposefully bend over and fill their Pampers on purpose, grunting softly as their diaper expanded beneath them, but there was something even better when they weren’t doing it intentionally.

Michelle was one of his favorite victims. She tried to take the route of adapting her diaper to her every day life. She was studying to be a doctor and wouldn’t let a temporary bout of incontinence ruin her life’s work.

But her padding had made her forgetful – and it was nearly two hours into her three-hour exam before she realized she hadn’t used the bathroom beforehand. She had gotten so used to peeing her pants like a toddler that she hadn’t even considered what to do if she had to poop. It was an online exam though, so any slight glance away from the camera would mean an automatic failure. She weighed every option multiple times before giving up, feeling the warm wet mush fill the backseat of her diaper. She let out a soft moan as her stomach emptied itself, the warm embrace of her shit filled diaper expanding over her entire backside.

That first messy accident was all it took for the rest of the training to kick in. The feeling of messing a diaper was so unique that it could be handled distinctly in the hypnosis tapes. Every girl who messed her diaper encountered the same fate.

They would return to their bed in the apartment and find a vibrating wand waiting for them. Their minds as mushy as their diapers, they would lay on the bed and get to work, humping the vibrations, desperate for sexual release. For some girls, it was easy, and they would break within minutes of the vibrations pounding against their pussies.

But for other girls, it was much harder. Some had never orgasm-ed before, and so would have to work even harder for this first one. Humping away as the vibrations enveloped their throbbing clits, they knew they wouldn’t be able to stop until they orgasm-ed.

The orgasm wasn’t just symbolic, it was a literal final step. The orgasm would release their remaining reluctance to serve. It would empty their heads of their old lives, allowing them to be transitioned into their new ones. Once they came into their messy (and almost always wet) diapers, their minds would be bound to him.

When the newest girl was subjugated, mind incapable of forming a thought without his approval, he would send the girl before to collect her. The funniest one was when he sent Marisa to collect her own sister! Marisa didn’t even look at her sister with an ounce of recognition as she gather the pathetic girl up, brought her to the nursery, and gave her the first diaper change of her new life.

He had the old girls spend a week helping the new ones adjust before selling the old and repeating the cycle. The stream of easily infantilized girls looking for cheap rent really seemed to be endless.

The babies of New York City were so stupid… but they looked so good in their diapers.

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.  

“Relax. Have a seat if you like. Of course, I have some rules. Little boys must wear diapers if they are going to be sitting on the furniture. These are expensive pieces, and I just can’t risk you having a wet or messy accident on them. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Auntie will put you in diapers and it will be our little secret. If you don’t have to go, then you don’t have to go, and there’s nothing to worry about. If you do have an accident, well, that’s what diapers are for. And if you have to go pee pee or poo poo and decide you’d rather just let go and let your diaper do all the work, well, like I said, it’ll be our little secret. So what are we waiting for? Let’s get you in a diaper ASAP.”

A fun little caption concerning some of the more twisted ways to deal with chronic masturbation.

The pics used in this caption were originally created and published by ABDreams.com