Kinkyberen - Kinkyberen

“So, you’re an ABDL. Ok. That’s why I’m here. You’re telling me you want a mommy and a daddy to take care of you, that whole thing. Fine. I’ll grant you your wish. No, there’s no twisting your words, you won’t be an actual baby, so you will be able to enjoy this. No, your mommy and daddy won’t be your actual parents, yes they’ll be about your age, well maybe a little older and they will be attractive, don’t worry. Yes, I’m aware you want them to be sexy young things themselves, you pervert. They’ll find you cute, obviously. They’ll be thrilled to have you as their baby for as long as you please. You won’t need a job, though you can get one if you want. You’ll be free to be an adult as much or as little as you want. Now, tell me this doesn’t sound like a sweet deal? Yeah, I figured you’d like it.

So here’s the price. Nothing unexpected, nothing crazy, just a simple logical follow through of your wish getting fulfilled. Diapers? Yeah, those are going to be mandatory. You’ll be a bedwetter and you will have accidents during the day, that’s par for the course. And you’ll never change yourself ever again. Those could be good things, bad things… that’s for you to judge. You’ll become desperately addicted to your blankets, stuffies, whatever your comfort item may be. You’ll need it everywhere like a two-year-old, be prepared for that. You will go back to either the bottle or the breast and you will get addicted to that as well. Only a pacifier will be able to soothe you in between. You will also be able to cry like a baby, which means the emotional control of a baby. You’ll need naps and you’ll throw tamper tantrums in spite of your better judgement. Most importantly, and I assume this is the only thing that might actually dissuade you, it will be revealed to the world that you are an ABDL. You won’t be able to hide it. You can try, but your caregivers won’t. You’ll get baby talked and your diaper will be checked. It’s inevitable. Then, again, if you want as an add-on, I can make you a carefree and mentally regressed adult. You’ll still be out to the world, but at least you won’t care.

Do you want to go through with this deal?”

Photo credit: @babybelle1

For more stories by me: https://reamstories.com/babywriter

“I really enjoyed going out with you tonight.” you said.

“Me too.” she replied. “And thanks for the lift.”

“You’re welcome.”

As the two of you stayed silent in the car, you were thinking of going for a kiss. Something to sweeten the evening and complete the perfect date.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked. A surprise to be sure, but a welcomed one. Suddenly, your hopes became a bit more ambitious than a kiss.

You two went inside. It was a sparsely decorated, but clean apartment. 

“Make yourself at home. I just need to feed the fish. Fishy! Fishy! Fishy!”

You thought it was cute how she would bend over and coo and talk to the fish as if they were kittens. As you looked at her, you saw that her shirt had pulled a bit. And that, because she was bending, her jeans had slipped a tiny bit. All that to say, you could see her underwear. Pristine white, surprisingly big… and Oh. My. God. That’s a diaper. You were dating a diaper girl. Now you were really getting your hopes up. It was such a thick diaper. Worst case scenario must be that she’s incontinent or something. 

You were so busy trying to calm yourself down and reel yourself from the discovery that you hadn’t realized that she’d gone quiet. She wasn’t cooing at the fish anymore, she was straining to relieve herself. Letting out, every so often, a low-pitched moan that meant the was putting in some effort. No need to worry, you were going to find out her present for you soon enough.

Photo credit: Alyssa from DiaperedOnline.com

For more stories by me: https://reamstories.com/babywriter

Maturity Test Part 2

Chapter 1

Anna had been away for three years, throwing herself into work and life, the memories of her last visit to the regression school nursery and her friends there fading into the background. But now, it was time for her reclassification, and she found herself once again driving the familiar road back to the place where her friends had been left behind. She wondered how much had changed. How much had Rebecca and Olaf changed? How much had she changed?

Arriving at Olaf's place first, Anna hesitated before knocking on the door. She had kept in touch with Olaf and his girlfriend, Lilly, over the years, but hearing stories and actually seeing the changes were two very different things. Taking a deep breath, she knocked, the sound echoing loudly in her ears.

A moment later, the door opened, and there stood Lilly, a bright smile on her face. "Anna! It's so good to see you!" she greeted warmly, pulling Anna into a quick hug before stepping aside to let her in. "Olaf’s been looking forward to your visit."

Anna stepped inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the subtle yet significant changes in the apartment. The living room had transformed into what could only be described as a preschooler’s haven. Bright colors adorned the walls, and scattered toys filled the floor. A large playmat with a road map pattern lay in the center of the room, and in one corner stood a small table with coloring books and crayons.

But what really caught Anna's attention was the large potty chart on the wall, covered in stickers—mostly clouds with only a few suns scattered here and there. It was clear that Olaf’s potty training had regressed significantly. The sparse suns stood out like sad little beacons amidst a sea of rain clouds.

Lilly noticed where Anna’s gaze had fallen and chuckled softly. “He’s had a bit of a rough time with his potty training lately,” she explained, her tone both affectionate and slightly teasing. “But he’s doing his best, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Anna turned to see Olaf emerging from the hallway. The sight of him was both shocking and heartbreaking. He was wearing a pair of blue pull-ups, the childish design visible beneath his t-shirt. His once-confident demeanor was now replaced with a more subdued, almost shy, expression as he shuffled over to greet Anna.

“Hi, Anna,” Olaf said softly, a pacifier hanging from a clip on his shirt. He didn’t seem to notice it as he absentmindedly popped it into his mouth after saying hello, sucking on it softly as he stood there, fidgeting slightly.

“Hi, Olaf,” Anna replied, trying to keep her voice light and not show how surprised she was at how much he had changed. She could see the subtle influence Lilly had over him—his behavior, his clothes, even his posture all screamed little boy. “It’s good to see you again.”

Olaf nodded, his cheeks flushing a little as he tugged on his t-shirt, which didn’t cover his pull-ups. “Yeah, it’s good to see you too. We’ve been having lots of fun, haven’t we, Mommy?” he added, looking up at Lilly with a small smile.

Lilly beamed, reaching down to ruffle his hair affectionately. “We sure have, sweetie” “I’ll go get us something to drink,” Lilly announced suddenly, giving Olaf a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the kitchen.

The moment she was out of earshot, Olaf’s demeanor changed. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh, pulling the pacifier from his mouth and dropping it onto the table with a soft clatter. He looked up at Anna with a mixture of shame and desperation in his eyes.

“Anna,” he began quietly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Lilly wasn’t coming back yet. “I need to talk to you. I—Lilly—she signed me up for Unpotty Training III,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

Anna blinked in surprise. “Unpotty Training III? What’s that?” she asked, leaning in closer.

Olaf sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “It’s not like the first two levels. Unpotty Training I and II were about getting you to have accidents, you know, just losing control sometimes. But this… this is different. It’s not about accidents anymore. It’s about not using the potty at all. They teach you how to… just let go whenever, wherever. No more control.”

Anna’s eyes widened as she processed his words. “And you’re the only one in the class who’s not… fully regressed?”

Olaf nodded, looking down at his pull-ups. “Yeah. It’s so embarrassing, Anna. All the other guys are in diapers, and here I am, still in pull-ups but being told I need to stop using the potty entirely. Lilly says it’s for my own good, that it’s part of accepting who I’m supposed to be, but… I don’t know. I want to grow back up, at least a little.”

“And that’s not all,” Olaf interrupted, his voice tense with frustration. “She signed me up for pacifier dependence too. I can’t go anywhere without it now. If I don’t have it... I just get so anxious, Anna. I don’t know what to do.”

Anna reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Olaf, why didn’t you tell her? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried,” he muttered, his eyes darting toward the kitchen again. “But she doesn’t listen. She thinks this is what’s best for me, but... I don’t want this. I want to grow back up, Anna. I don’t want to be stuck like this forever.”

Before he could finish, Lilly’s cheerful voice cut through the air as she returned, carrying a tray with two steaming cups of coffee and a sippy cup filled with juice. Olaf quickly popped the pacifier back into his mouth, his frustration hidden behind the plastic shield.

“Here we go!” Lilly said brightly, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Two coffees for the grown-ups and a nice sippy cup of juice for my little man.”

Olaf forced a smile, taking the sippy cup in his hands. “Thanks, Mommy,” he mumbled, his previous frustration buried under a veneer of obedience.

Lilly beamed, clearly pleased with his response. “Oh, and Olaf, I don’t think we need to worry about you drinking from a cup anymore. Those days are long gone, aren’t they?”

Anna watched as Olaf’s grip tightened on the sippy cup, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t respond, just brought the cup to his lips and began to drink, his eyes focused intently on the table.

As they sipped their drinks, a faint hissing sound reached Anna’s ears. At first, she thought it might be coming from outside, but then she realized it was much closer—too close.

Olaf was wetting himself.

She glanced at his pull-ups, noticing the way the material was gradually swelling, the childish design fading as it absorbed the wetness. Olaf’s face remained calm, his eyes focused on the sippy cup in his hands as he continued to drink, completely unaware of what was happening. He looked so small, so helpless—more like a toddler than a preschooler.

Lilly, who was casually sipping her coffee, noticed Anna’s concerned expression and followed her gaze to Olaf’s pull-ups. A knowing smile spread across her face.

Lilly glanced at the clock on the wall, her eyes widening slightly as she realized the time. "Oh, look at the time," she said, her voice tinged with both excitement and a hint of urgency. "We need to get ready for the reclassification, Olaf."

Olaf looked up from his coloring, his brow furrowing in mild confusion. "Already?" he asked, sounding a bit unsure. The thought of the reclassification had clearly been on his mind, but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon.

Lilly nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yes, sweetie. We don't want to be late. Why don't you get up and stretch your legs before we head out?"

Obediently, Olaf pushed himself up from the floor, his movements a bit clumsy as he shifted his weight. Then, with a soft sigh, she stepped closer to him, her hand reaching out to gently pat the front of his pull-up.

"Uh-oh, Olaf," Lilly said, her voice laced with gentle teasing as she placed her other hand on his padded bottom. "Looks like someone’s a bit soggy. Did you forget to tell Mommy you had an accident?"

Olaf's cheeks flushed a deep red as he looked down at himself, his eyes widening in embarrassment. "N-No..." he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the dampness of his pull-up now that it had been pointed out.

Anna couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him as she watched the scene unfold. She could see how much it bothered him to be caught off guard like this. Lilly gently guided Olaf over to the corner of the room where his potty chart hung on the wall. “Come on, sweetie,” Lilly said softly, her tone warm but firm. “Let’s put another cloud on your chart, okay?”

Olaf’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he nodded, clearly embarrassed by the ritual. He hesitated for a moment, but under Lilly’s gentle guidance, he picked up the blue marker and drew another cloud in the appropriate square. The marker squeaked slightly against the chart, a sound that seemed to echo in the room, making Olaf cringe a little.

“There we go,” Lilly said with a soft chuckle, ruffling Olaf’s hair affectionately. “Such a good boy.”

As Olaf stood there, looking up at the chart with a mixture of embarrassment and resignation, Lilly couldn’t resist adding a bit of teasing to the situation. “You know, Olaf,” she began, her voice playful, “if you keep this up, maybe this will be your last pull-up. If you get reclassified as a toddler today, we will switch to diapers full-time. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Olaf’s eyes widened in surprise and mild horror at the idea, but before he could protest, Anna, who had been quietly watching the interaction, decided to join in.

“Or,” Anna chimed in, trying to help Olaf smile, “maybe this will be your last pull-up because you’ll be allowed to grow up, Olaf. Maybe they’ll finally let you wear big boy underwear again.”

Olaf face showed a mix of confusion and hope, the idea of being allowed to grow up again clearly appealing to some part of him that still clung to his former sense of independence.

But before he could latch onto that hope, Lilly gently shot it down with a playful smirk. “Oh, Anna, you know Olaf’s too incontinent to ever go back to normal underwear. Even if they let him grow up, it’ll probably still be in pull-ups,” she said with a lighthearted laugh. “I mean, we wouldn’t want him having too many big boy accidents, would we?” Olaf shifted again, this time more awkwardly, caught between the two women’s contrasting views of his future.

Anna couldn’t help but smile at Lilly’s fierce defense of Olaf’s regression, though she knew better than to push the subject further. It was clear that Lilly had a vision for Olaf’s life that involved a lot more clouds on that chart, and perhaps even the inevitable transition to diapers full-time.

"Well," Anna said with a light shrug, "we’ll just have to see what the reclassification decides, won’t we?" She winked at Olaf, who gave her a small, uncertain smile in return.

Lilly gave Olaf’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Alright, let’s get you into a fresh pull-up before we head out, okay?” she said, her voice softening again. “We can’t have you going to your reclassification all soggy.”

Olaf nodded quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as Lilly guided him over to the changing area. She moved with practiced ease, quickly removing the damp pull-up and replacing it with a fresh one, giving Olaf a suppository for his nerves. The crinkling sound filled the room as she snugly fastened the sides, her hands gentle but efficient.

“There we go,” Lilly murmured, smoothing out the front of his pull-up before giving him another reassuring smile. “All set. Now, you’ll be nice and comfy for the big day.”

Once Olaf was dressed, the three of them made their way to the door.

Katie had only been back in diapers for a few months now.  After doing poorly in school, staying out past curfew and being defiant to adults, her parents had had enough and decided the best way to get her under control and give her any hope of a future was to unpotty train her.  She fought against it for a few weeks, but as her parents stood firm Katie decided to just make the best of it and go along, hoping it would end soon.  

She had become accustom to wearing diapers, and the bulk between her legs no longer bothered her, and she really didn’t miss panties.  However, she despite now losing bowel and bladder control, it still embarrassed her to have to use her diapers in front of others.  In this way she was very much like a shy toddler who would sneak away when she had to go poop.

That was the case when her parents were having a party at their house one evening.  At first Katie mingled and said her hellos to everyone, realizing that they all probably could hear her bulky diapers crinkly, if they hadn’t already been told about her “situation” by her parents.

It wasn’t long though before she felt that familiar cramping in her belly and knew she had only a couple of minutes before she’d be filling her diaper.

She was able to sneak away thankfully and decided to sit and look out the window and let nature takes its course.  She was enjoying the sensation of filling her diaper in peace, feeling her diaper puff out and the load expand her diaper.  She was almost done, when her mom barged in, with a few guests in tow, to show them how they had redecorated the master suite.

Immediately everyone stopped and watched as Katie continued to grunt, and push as her diaper continued to fill with poop.

As embarrassed as Katie was, and as much as she wanted to run away, she couldn’t get herself to move as she continued to poop and eventually pee.  None of the guests could look away either as they saw this beautiful girl, who should be heading off to college soon, sitting and filling her diaper with a massive load of semi-soft poop.

“Come sit next to me baby, I need to tell you something.

There’s a reason these things are happening to you. The wet pants, the premature cumming, the losing control...theyre all connected.

And it’s because of me. I’ve been doing it all. Don’t be upset, I think this is really what’s best for you. You’ve always been a bit of a submissive type, I’m just pushing you deeper into that well.

Now, I can completely take control. You can call me mommy, I can change your diapers and make sure you get plenty of sexual release. How does that sound?”

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.  

Veronica's Voyage of Self-Discovery – Patreon Teaser

We've got a four-part series this month featuring a young woman learning more and more about her kinky side!

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"You seriously think that's the only reason I said yes, dude? Hah, in your dreams!"

Veronica's gale of laughter echoed through the pine woods, accompanied a moment later by the lower rumble of David's chuckle. "Well, I didn't say it was the only reason," he corrected, taking another bite of his sandwich and gazing affectionately across the picnic blanket at his girlfriend. "But you have to admit it, right? You were more than a little into it. Anyone could see that…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Veronica returned, stuffing the last of her own sandwich into her mouth and wiping her sticky fingers on the nearby paper towel. She waggled her bare shoulders in the warm spring sun, then glanced down and tugged her spaghetti strap top a trifle lower. It would be swimsuit season soon, after all – and she wanted her boobs to be as tanned as possible.

"What, so you admit it, huh? You admit you liked being plastered with pies by a big strong man?" David pressed, and now he was scooching closer, his eyes dancing with quiet mirth. "Go on, babe – you can say it! 'Oh, yeah! Please, please smear me good-!"

"Okay, okay!" she cut in with a laugh, leaning in and silencing him with a quick kiss. "Maybe I do, okay? But you know what I like better than that?" She slipped closer, her hands slipping coyly down toward his jean-clad groin. "Making out in the sun after the end of a long semester. You know, doing my part to keep you from getting ideas about any other girls over the summer…"

His arms drew tight around her. His eyes smiled, then slipped closed as her rosy lips approached once more. And then she was kissing him: eagerly. Playfully. Pressing close one moment, then withdrawing a moment later. Her tongue slipping forward… probing hesitantly between his parted lips…

"Mmm, you little tease," he murmured, and amid her muffled laughter they sank backward onto the blanket. It was spring, after all. They were young, and hormones were raging. Here in this secluded corner of the state park no one would be around to watch these two college kids fooling around. And really… so what if anyone did, anyway?

The seconds slipped heedlessly into minutes amid the birdsong and the rustle of leaves and the quiet, muffled moans of the two lovers. His hands groped questioningly for her full breasts. She sighed rapturously… guided his hand deep beneath her top… let out a little gasp of pleasure as his finger and thumb pinched affectionately on one tender nipple. "David, please," she murmured, even as his legs twined around hers and bore her down onto the cotton blanket beneath. "Oh, please, you- Fuck! You're driving me crazy…"

"That's the point," he muttered back into her parted lips – and renewed his tender assault.

"Ooh- oh, but- but no, really-" At the word, he drew back, raising himself on his bare, gym-toned arms to gaze questioningly down at her. "No? Sorry, everything okay, babe?" She blinked up for a moment, then burst into a quiet, sheepish giggle. "Sorry, I- it's so stupid! I just… it's so lame! I didn't pee before we left. And, um, I really gotta go." She sighed and struggled up as he half-rolled away. "Sorry, shitty timing! I- it shouldn't take long-"

"Just go behind a tree or bush or something," he replied, with a brisk glance at the edge of the clearing. His erection was plain beneath his jeans, and as Veronica struggled to her knees she had a perfect view – a visible reminder of his need for her. "No one's out here," he continued. "And I'll let you know if someone does come…"

"Thanks, bae!" As she trotted hastily off toward the nearest cluster of trees, David gazed after her, watching in visible satisfaction as her shapely, short-clad ass waggled its way onward. He reached for the still-uneaten dessert within their picnic basket, his fingers mechanically beginning to unwrap the cupcake as he stared. A meditative expression settled on his face then… a gleam of some new idea dawning in his eye…

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