Getting Laid

The Little Injection

Dr. Harper smiled warmly at the prospective parents gathered in the observation room. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our facility. Today, you'll witness the latest in regression technology."

Behind the glass, two Littles, Emma and Jake, were strapped to padded examination tables, pacifiers in their mouths, eyes wide with fear. Nurses prepped the injection devices, filled with a glowing blue serum. A man in the audience pointed. "What does the injection do exactly?"

Dr. Harper's smile widened. "This serum targets the neural pathways responsible for potty training. Within minutes, these Littles will no longer have control over their bladder or bowels.“n Emma whimpered around her pacifier, struggling futilely against her restraints. Jake's eyes darted around, panic evident.

A nurse gently patted Emma's leg. "Now, now, sweetie. This will be over before you know it."

The nurse inserted the needle into Emma's thigh. Emma gasped, her body trembling. Moments later, a loud hissing sound filled the room as Emma's diaper swelled. The nurse smiled, patting the now-soaked diaper. "There we go, all done.“ Jake watched in horror as the second nurse approached him with the syringe. "N-no," he mumbled through his pacifier, tears streaming down his face.

Dr. Harper turned to the audience. "As you can see, the serum works almost instantly. These Littles are now fully dependent, just like babies.“ Jake's injection followed, his diaper quickly swelling and sagging. The prospective parents murmured amongst themselves, impressed.

A woman in the front row raised her hand. "How long does the effect last?“ Dr. Harper chuckled. "It's permanent. Once administered, these Littles will never regain their potty training."

Emma and Jake sobbed quietly, their humiliation complete as the audience observed their helplessness with fascination and approval.

Another adopter chuckled, "They look so helpless. Perfect for what we need."

Art by Rocket Manatee!

Find more exclusive captions on my Patreon

Accepting my boyfriend is ABDL

I thought I’d write a little about how I have gone from my initial reaction to my boyfriend’s coming out as ABDL (adult baby, diaper lover), which was along these lines:

OK, you like a harmless, peculiar, thing. I find the thought of you indulging in it unappealing, and a bit of a turn off, but I am happy for you to indulge, as long as you are happy for me not to be involved. Never hide it from me, and never be ashamed.

To my current feelings, which are: 

I GET TO BE A LITTLE GIRL! I AM EXCITE! And hopefully that will go well and then I can be a caregiver to you as a little too! And then we can play TOGETHER as a pair of littles! And oh my gosh, it’d be great if I can go to his event soon with him.

How did this change happen? I’ve thought about it at length. The things that have really helped have been:

1. He explained at the start that it’s not entirely just sexual (in fact, I think he said it wasn’t really sexual at all - hah! I think that was a white lie, what I needed to hear at the time). He clearly explained to me how it’s about feeling safe, cosy, loved and being in a different frame of mind where the usual adult junk doesn’t matter. I know for some people it’s not sexual at all, and for others, it’s majorly sexy, but what he said made me comfortable at the time. He used the phrase ‘age play’ to describe his fetish, which I found easier to deal with than ‘diaper fetish’ or something. 

2. He made it clear I could ask ANY questions, WHENEVER I wanted, and made sure he answered them all sincerely, frankly, and as as clearly as he could. Some of them took a while to answer - like when I started to ask how it is sexy to him. This is because he hasn’t had to answer those questions before. If he was stuck on how to answer something, he told me so, and I patiently put it on the back-burner. I found his frankness, clarity of thought and ability to articulate some difficult stuff really attractive. He’s a good ‘un. 

3. He made it clear that I don’t have to do anything or get involved. It could entirely just be his thing, that he goes off to events to enjoy a few times a year, or in his alone time. This put me at ease - no pressure! That was great. 

4. When I started exploring the fetish, he expressed how super happy it made him (even if it was a bit surreal for him!). I checked out some sites, to see what sort of clothes he might wear, and when I felt brave enough, sent him a link to a romper that I thought he could get away with wearing as cute pajamas around the house, that wasn’t TOO babyish. He made it clear he was really touched that I was even curious. Positive reinforcement is a great motivator!

5. He explained to me that it isn’t related to some childhood trauma, and stressed that he had a brilliant childhood. He tackled that subject head on, and that put my mind at rest, and meant I wasn’t wondering about how to engage in such a delicate conversation. It’s not my business, of course, unless he chooses to make it as such, but I would hate to accidentally trigger some disturbing memories in chatting around ABDL stuff. I know this will vary a lot for other folk, and I have my own issues in that area, but it helped me to understand that it’s just how he is built. 

6. He made it clear it didn’t involve anyone else, aside from folk he plays with at events / meet ups, and the folk who change him. He doesn’t have what I’d now call a caregiver, and events don’t involve any sexy happenings with other people. 

7. When I expressed an interest in seeing sexy changing times, he hooked me right up with some videos. I’ve got a soft spot for porn where one partner is submissive and dominated in the most genteel way (massage videos?! Jeez, I can’t imagine just lying there in the buff, fully lit, in such an intense situation. I know, I’m such a weed :D ). This has replaced the slightly rougher stuff I was into when I was younger. After seeing a few bits on Tumblr, I realised that changing times might be considered gentle sub-dom. It was a bit less weird than I expected. In fact, the first video I chose to watch featured lockable mittens and I was over the moon to see such adorable fetish equipment. Now I’ve seen some that are downright hot. Lovely smut :)  

8. We talk about our fantasies. This isn’t always easy, and I think he still worries about me being grossed out by his interests, but the long and short of it is, my boyfriend wants me to wear some giant padded undies, cute clothes that I adore, and take me for a picnic. I may or may not find it super sexy, but that just sounds like a great afternoon! And I wouldn’t have to pee in the bushes in the park ;). I know that if I wanted to try something different, he’d be happy to hear me out and give it some serious thought. 

9. Finally, and most importantly, I think, is he has both a sense of scale and a sense of humour about his ABDL desires. For instance, when I told him I was curious and interested in trying out being a little, he asked if he had to watch Formula 1 with me in return, a sport I love and he thinks is rubbish. Newp ;). His ability to laugh at the situation keeps me at ease.

It’s not been an overnight thing, it’s taken a couple of months for me to reach this point. I can honestly say I 100% *support* him in his interests, and some of them now sound super appealing and fun to me, and I hope that I will enjoy partaking too. I know that I might not - all sorts of situations are appealing in the mind and then you get into them and think.. oh shit, no. Not for me. But I’ll continue to support him, and I know that I have now accepted this part of him, which I was worried I never fully could.

Bondage Story/Caption Index

The other day, a follower was chatting with me about my captions and stories with bondage and BD/SM themes, and it sounded like an index of some of those posts might be helpful. (Because – let's face it – Tumblr's tools for finding old posts are crap.) So here we go!

Obviously these stories also include a lot of other themes besides bondage, restraints, gags, etc., so do be forewarned. If you don't like hypnosis, pet play, forced regression, diaper use, etc., then maybe these aren't for you. But then again, in that case why would you be following me anyway?

Captions:

Rosie's New Role

Odette's Reprogramming

A New Career for Brielle

Shockingly Pleasurable

Medicating Melissa

Good Pet for Nancy

Drink Up, Little Effie

Gulp, Gulp!

Messy, Messy Carmen

Karma's a Bitch

Going Too Far

Regress and Re(s)train

An Unexpected Discovery

The New Doll

FaceTiming with George

Therapy for Jalisa

Binding the Blonde

Training the Dominatrix

Trouble with the Ex

How to Be a Good Personal Assistant

Anya in Charge

A Sissy's Education

Troubles for the Intern

Benny Gets Bossed

Good Night, Agent Addison

Dribbling Little Daphne

Bound for Max's Pleasure

Playing with the New Toy

Jeffie's Reeducation

Koko: Maid to Cum

Save Me, Charles!

Elaine's Intruder (Part One | Part Two)

Roxanne's New Patient (Part One | Part Two | Part Three)

Brittany's Baby

Beth's New Halloween Costume

Cheating Never Pays

Rules for Baby

Wife into Pony

Audrey

Christmas with Ashley

Mommy Knows How to Discipline

Jake's New Toy

Hush, Lucy, Hush

Fight, Little Baby

Stories:

The Date, Part Two

Diapered, Desperate, and Denied

Loose Lips

Hush, Little Stacy

A Surprise Checkup

Hindsight

Promises Kept

Whispers in the Night

Replaced... or Repurposed?

Silence is Golden, But Duct Tape Is Silver

Bonding Time, Part Two

Advanced Dungeons & Diapers: Chapter 1

This is the start of a sequel to one of my longest commissions, "Dungeons & Diapers". It's written to work effectively as a standalone novel, but follows directly on the plot of the original work, which you can read here.

Also it's set in the Pathfinder 1e universe, not any DnD plane. Nyeh. You can't tell me what to do. ...

The smell of the Wizard’s destruction carried on the wind far past the edge of Verity, the eastern capital, long before the damage could be seen.

Sandra knew they were walking into trouble and danger of their greatest enemy’s doing. Her whole party knew it. The Wizard had caused them untold humiliations as an afterthought, and prolonged exposure to his magic had taught them the telltale signs. With one sniff of the air, they knew it was him.

The distinctive, sharp smell of baby powder left little room for misidentification.

Turning back in the saddle to look at her party, Sandra swished her tail, trying not to show any uncertainty. “If anyone wants to turn back, I understand. There’s no reason to throw ourselves into danger without cause.”

Quinn didn’t need to answer. The brawny half orc feared little, and even when he had trepidation, he kept it hidden for the others. His protective instinct didn’t break here, and he shook his head.

Tarja trembled on the horse next to Quinn, but not out of fear–rather, the curse that had degraded her fine motor control left her constantly shaking unless she could lie down, get on all fours, or briefly dispel the effects. Mounted on a saddle, she had to cling to the horn and let Quinn lead. She hardly looked like the most lethal Ranger Sandra had ever met, but when she was free of the curse, she could track, hunt, and aim a bow with legendary precision.

Even cursed as she was, she’d never back down from danger. Taking the effort to enunciate clearly, she said, “I’m no’ running.” Her words carried a slight lisp, like a toddler still struggling to make the letters come out right–another side effect of her curse.

Finally, Hadrian. The party’s own wizard, and their most thorough source of information on the Wizard’s magic. Clad in a latex bodysuit that bulged around his hips, and with a pacifier lodged between his lips that he couldn’t remove, he had the most visible curses of them all.

His gaze was on the horizon, hard and furious. He didn’t need to speak to communicate, not when his feelings were this clear.

They were going to Verity, no matter what had happened there, no matter the danger.

Sandra shifted in her seat again, noting a slight squelch beneath her pants. Her diaper was full–and now that she’d noticed, she picked up a slight foul stench mingling with the baby powder odor. The diaper would self clean before they got to the city, so it didn’t concern her much.

Still, it was a reminder of the Wizard’s lightest, least invasive curses–he’d stolen her potty training more than a year prior, and it had stayed stolen. If he led an assault against a city, she shuddered to think what he could have done to the populace.

It wasn’t long before they crested a rise and, finally, came into view of the city. Verity’s walls stood proud and unbreached, and most of the homes, businesses, and buildings seemed to be intact.

From one point, though, billowing clouds of white wafted up. Plumes of baby powder, shooting from a space where the great Temple of Calistria had once stood. Now, the structure seemed to be made of geometric pastels, twisted as a thousand child-safe squares of foam flooring had been frozen in the middle of an explosion.

Pulling up his mount next to Sandra, Hadrian gestured at his pacifier urgently. Reaching to the side, she pulled it free.

“Serendipity,” he said, “She’s–”

“In the temple,” Sandra finished. “I know.”

He didn’t wait for further words or confirmation, but spurred his horse onwards, galloping as fast as the mount would take him.

Sandra couldn’t blame him, even if she doubted there was much they could do. Hadrian had fallen head-over-high-heels with a priestess performer of the temple. He wouldn’t slow for anything while he knew she could be in danger.

The others followed soon after, matching Hadrian’s speed so they didn’t lose him on the road to Verity’s gates. As they grew closer, Sandra got a better look at the damage–she could make out distinct shapes, but the scale was all off. One side of a baby crib, bars painted pastel blue, seemed to be twenty feet long or more and hovered above the debris. An enormous mobile, so large that the plush toys dangling from it were to-scale with the animals those plushies resembled, spun slowly.

Contrasting with the openly juvenile elements, she also saw a large plug, tapered at the base, large enough that it could only be practically used by an elder dragon with a very particular set of kinks.

If Sandra had any doubts, that confirmed it. Only the Wizard of Paraphilia would mix infantile and erotic objects with such a tasteless disregard for dignity.

Hadrian was babbling at the gate–literally, his pacifier had returned in the fifteen minutes it’d taken to ride there–and Sandra had to pull up next to him and address the guards. “We’re working for the guild,” she said, leaning over to free her friend’s lips again. After removing the pacifier, she continued, “We have business with the Calistrians.”

“The temple’s…” one of the guards said, scratching his head as he looked them up and down, first at Hadrian’s pacifier and latex bodysuit, then at Quinn’s ample breasts, to Sandra, an elf with a dragon like tail that twitched to emphasize her impatience. At least they’d managed to clear up a couple of the more awkward things–Sandra could at least pull her clothes down to cover her diaper properly, hiding the perpetual peek she’d been stuck with for a while, and Quinn had managed to find a caster who could permanently revert his size back to normal. It could have been worse.

Shaking off his confusion, the guard explained, “Eh…the temple’s got wrecked like you all. Not sure you’ll be able to do any business there.”

“We can help,” Sandra insisted, sliding the guild seal from her pocket to show him. “Let us pass, quickly.”

Shrugging, the guard nodded and stood back, allowing the four of them to ride through the gates.

To Hadrian’s chagrin, they couldn’t just gallop up main street–Verity was a big enough city that, even with a crisis in plain view, life had to go on. Merchants had to sell their merchandise, beggars had to beg, scoundrels had to scound. Their horses helped them navigate up the streets more quickly, but she could see the frustration build on Hadrian’s face as they got closer and closer, stymied by the thick press of busy people in the streets.

Finally, they came into view of the temple, and Hadrian leapt free of the saddle. Stumbling on his heels for a moment, he ran across the cobblestone street, up to the place where the temple entrance had once stood.

The walls were replaced with the same pastel-painted slightly foam substance. Where there had once been grand doors decorated with symbols of Calistria, the Savored Sting, there was now a large flap, more akin to something an animal would use.

Sandra pulled up behind him, bringing her mount to a nickering stop, and said, “We need to use cauti–”

Hadrian ran in through the flap.

“Damn.” Sandra jumped down from her own horse, taking a moment to tie it off to the hitching post, dealing with Hadrian’s as well.

Quinn began to help Tarja down and deal with their own mounts as well, but Sandra stopped him.

“You stay out here.” Sandra said. “If this place has some effect on the people inside, we can’t all just rush in. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, start finding a way to get Hadrian and I outside without any collateral damage.”

“Be safe, ‘Andwa,” Tarja lisped, before Sandra slipped under the flap, conjuring an umbral knife in her hands–she’d be ready for anything.

Inside, the grand hall of the temple had once been home to a massive stage, where scantily-dressed clerics would flaunt their goods in exchange for tithe. Calistria was a goddess of lust, after all, it made sense.

Now, where poles and stages had once been, cages and hard points floated in the air, trapping priests and worshipers alike. The sky could be seen above–the roof was floating far too high to fully shield from the elements, and the various bizarre structures Sandra had seen from afar loomed above them.

A foul smell hung in the air, the results of the curses and time that had warped the former holy place. Diapers were everywhere Sandra looked, wrapped around people of all genders and ancestries, most soiled to the point of leaking. Pacifiers, too, were a constant–held in place with leather and magic, so that the victims couldn’t spit them out, mumble, or even speak.

Some priests had their hands tied far above their heads, leaving them standing, desperate, unable to rest or relax. Sandra met their pleading eyes, though their words got distorted into helpless mumbling beneath their pacifiers.

She approached one. “Hold still,” she whispered, “Let me try…”

Reaching up, she touched the clasp holding the pacifier in place. She could plainly detect magic on it, and knew it had to be enchanted, but perhaps–

Her brain fogged for a moment, and she staggered back, falling to the ground. Her brain fuzzed, befuddled by magic. When she blinked and regained full control of her thoughts, she realized she’d begun suckling her thumb, and that her diaper–which had self cleaned not ten minutes prior–was suddenly sagging and full again, not that it could make the room smell any worse.

Shaking her head, Sanda stood, staggering for a moment before regaining her balance.

“I…” she said. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

The priest’s eyes didn’t show understanding, just desperation to be free. Regretfully, Sandra looked around further, careful not to touch anyone.

Other priests were in their own predicament. Some, trapped in cages or cribs, were cuffed spread eagle. Still others sat on adult-sized rocking horses that never fell still, wrists tied to handles and feet to the base, forced to shift back and forth, squelching their diapers interminably. Going by the slight bzzz sound filling the air, Sandra guessed more than a few had toys inside their diaper, torturing them in other ways that couldn’t be seen as easily.

There were more restraints, too, in patterns and configurations she didn’t know. X-shaped crosses. Spanking benches–though, mercifully, she saw no enchanted paddles going to town. Two particularly unfortunate clerics were tied to each other, wrist-to-ankle, so that their faces were buried in each other’s diapers.

She counted dozens of people in the grand temple room, all bound, all unable to move or flee. Some were faces she recognized. Some were strangers. All were helpless.

“Hadrian?” Sandra called, picking her way through the helpless, whimpering victims.

“Back here!” he called, voice carrying from a rear door.

She followed the sound. In the former backstage, it was less populated, but the cribs and cursed people inside were just as helpless. Hadrian was there, but as she stepped in, he looked from face to face, crib to crib, then turned and ran out the room.

Sandra followed, urgently, chasing after him as he went to the once-and-no-longer rectory. Here, there were no people, only changing supplies and baby food stacked on shelves, piles and piles of each, a trove of necessities for anyone who’d been cursed into diaper dependence.

Hadrian continued to run, and Sandra chased after him. “Wait, Hadrian–”

“I have to find her,” he called back, moving down a back hall, to the priest’s quarters. More cribs, more faces, but not the face he wanted to see. Up, then, to the library–now a play room, with baby books and lewd folios, baby toys and vibrating wands all scattered around as though they belonged together. A few priests, glassy eyed, were going through the motions of stacking blocks or organizing rings onto a post, seemingly without any control over their actions.

More desperate than ever, Hadrian continued his flight. He checked the kitchen, now filled with high chairs, and the restrooms, now filled exclusively with changing tables.

Nothing.

“She’s…” Hadrian panted, leaning against a changing table for support. “She’s not here.”

“Maybe she was out on business,” Sandra suggested. “Gwyndomere relies on her for jobs.”

“Gwyndomere’s gone, too,” Hadrian said. “He took–The Wizard took them.”

Sandra looked back out the changing room door, to the open field of restrained worshippers. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Hadrian said, a growl building in his throat. “But we’re not going to let this sta–”

“Hey!”

A voice called from the grand hall. Someone who could speak, not bound up by the curses and restraints.

Sandra stepped out, looking for the source of the voice. A man in white and gold robes. Sandra recognized the colors, indicating a god or goddess of healing, but couldn’t remember the divinity’s name.

“We’re with the guild,” Sandra said. “I’m–”

“Sandra Cassidy,” the cleric replied, stepping closer. He was older, with a neatly trimmed grey beard and a weary expression. “I know who you are. My name is Barro, I’m a priest of Aesocar. You shouldn’t be in here.”

“These people need help,” Sanda gestured, while mentally snapping a proverbial finger. (Aesocar! That’s the god I was thinking of.)

“We’re finding ways to do that,” Barro said, “But it’s dangerous. The pacifiers provide food and water, keeping them alive, but we haven’t yet found a way to get them down safely. They could be like this for weeks, and unless you know how to dispel it, there’s nothing for you to do but fall into a trap or erase your own mind by mistake.”

“I know how to work around the Wizard’s cruelty,” Sandra said.

“And you know how dangerous he is,” the cleric replied. “But–”

“Wait,” Hadrian said. “How do you know it could be weeks? When was the temple hit?”

The cleric shifted, uncomfortably, looking back at the door. “We should step outside–”

“What happened?” Hadrian demanded, stalking forward. “How long has it been like this?”

“This temple was hit this morning,” Barro said. “Eight members of the clergy are still unaccounted for, but…”

Sandra understood. “This isn’t the only one.”

“Four temples in eight days. The Wizard has been busy. And…it could be much, much worse than this.” He looked down and to the side. “My order was hit. Aesocar’s great hospital–the wizard rendered most of the finest healers in the realm to sadistic torments, turning their healing magic into cruel sources of pain.”

“Let’s go outside,” Sandra finally said.

Careful and reluctant, they stepped around the helpless, moaning victims, out into the fresh air.

“Four temples,” Sandra repeated. “What’s he doing?”

“We think, trying to get something.” Barro hesitated. “He’s taken the high priest of each, and several of their highest ranked assistants.”

“Serendipity,” Hadrian whispered.

“Gwyndomere,” Sandra added, thinking of the high priest’s power. If the Wizard had taken Gwyndomere, rather than coming in and attacking the temple while Gwyndomere was gone, then that implied danger and power beyond what she’d already feared.

“What’s going on?” Quinn asked, seeing them walk out.

“Danger and trouble,” Sandra started. “We’re going to need to be careful and decide our next move cautiously, something big and complicated is coming, and–”

“No,” Hadrian cut in. “It’s not complicated at all. We’re going to find the wizard, and when we do, we’re going to kill him.”

...

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Janette was being punished for being rude to her stepmother and throwing a tantrum. She had been forced into a short pink dress and diapers with pink plastic pants over them. Worst of all her stepmother wouldn’t let her use the bathroom and made Janette hold it in when she had to go potty. It was becoming ridiculous as she hadn’t been to the bathroom all day and Janette was becoming desperate when her stepmother announced they were going on a trip. Janette was made to sit in a child’s car seat in the back of the car and they were off on their trip. When Janette asked where they were going she was shocked to hear they were visiting her real mom. Her mom lived four hours away, there was no way she could hold on that long. She was right as half way through the journey Janette found herself crying as she finally had to let go and pee herself in the back of the car. It was so wet and warm and disgusted Janette. She was no better than a real baby now with a wet diaper on. But her pain wasn’t over yet as she didn’t just need to pee. “I’ve wet myself like you wanted, now can we please stop at a bathroom somewhere so I can get this diaper off. I need to go number two as well,” Janette said to her stepmother as they drove down the highway. “Silly girl,” her stepmother replied, shaking her head. “You aren’t getting changed until we get to your old mommy’s house and as for your poopy, you’re wearing a diaper aren’t you?” The answer terrified Janette who was left crying in her wet diaper. An hour later with another hour to go Janette couldn’t hold on any longer and proceeded to poop in her diaper. It all happened very quickly, one moment she was holding on and then she felt a hot mess slide out of her butt. It was very squishy and stank up the car really quickly. All Janette could do was cry more as her stepmother said, “Well who’s a stinky girl? Don’t worry baby, I’ll get your old mommy to help me change your dirty bottom when we get to her house.”

I love being diepered

Morning Comforts (18+)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tara nodded once more, unable to find any words.

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

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

“Wh-what’s that, Daddy?”

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

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

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

And from then on, she was.

The Sissy Godmother, Pt. 1

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, magical transformation, humiliation, crossdressing, hypermessing, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Bricks66

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“For the last time, Lane, studying means phones off!”

Looking up from his cracked textbook, it was safe to say Josh was on edge. It was the Friday night before finals week and the 4.0 dean’s list student was cracking the whip hard against the backs of his two far less intelligent buddies. Sighing off his annoyance, he questioned in his brain why he continued to study with Lane considering his stoner ass was at risk of failing half his classes. However, a soft punch on his shoulder quickly reminded him why he put up with Lane’s bullshit.

“Oh, go easy on him, Joshy. He’s been trying harder than usual lately and I know that’s because of you. Plus, it’s nearly midnight,” said Ruby, a tall and sporty girl coasting on an athletic scholarship, as she scooted her chair closer to Josh and threw her arm around him. In the back of her mind, she wanted to strangle her childhood friend for making a fool of himself during their study session again. After nearly flunking out of college the year prior, she had made a point to get Lane the help he needed to earn his degree. Sadly, despite finding him the best possible tutor in Josh, he was still as spacey as ever.

Sliding his phone into his backpack begrudgingly, Lane set his head down on the notebook in front of him, his brain fried as his group surpassed the four-hour mark of their first of three cram study sessions this weekend. “Ugh! We’ve been going at this for hours,” he whined, fed up with reading lines of small text, “Ya know, this would take so much less time if you’d just let me-”

“For the last time, I’m not giving you my notes and that’s final,” scoffed Josh, not wanting to entertain the idea of committing academic dishonesty just to get Lane out of his hair. Frustrated by Lane’s frequent interruptions, he got up from his chair, deciding he needed to clear his head by getting some air, “I’m going to grab an energy drink from the vending machine. Do you guys want anything?”

Earning a pair of no’s from Lane and Ruby, Josh exited the room and buried his face in the crux of his elbow before letting out a muffled scream. “Oh, my Goddess! S-She was so close…” he thought, raising a tender hand to the spot on his shoulder that Ruby had punched. Lane may have been a lot to put up with but it would all be worth it if he could land Ruby by the end of the school year. Shaking off his momentary euphoria, he quickly sped-walked down the dimly lit hallway, securing himself an energy drink before briskly returning to his group's private study room.

*SNOOOOOOOOOORE!*

Upon re-entering the room, Josh’s shoulders slumped as he listened to the pair of besties snoring away as they lay against their unfinished workbooks. Sighing dejectedly, he decided to be merciful for Ruby’s sake, softly resting a blanket across her shoulders before grabbing a seat and digging back into his studies. He may have been tutoring Lane and Ruby but he still had his own grades to worry about. 

*DONG! DONG! DONG!*

Off in the distance, Josh listened to the campus clock towers booming chimes, alerting him to the fact that the day was about to roll over. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes, determined to get in at least one more good hour to study time. However, as his fist dug into his droopy eyelids, he failed to notice the window beginning to crack open, accompanied by a gentle wind that carried with it a glittery sheen. A sheen that began to swirl in place, creating a vortex in the corner of the study room.

Alerted by the sudden cacophony of noise, Josh jumped to his feet and backed away as the shimmering tornado sent loose papers flying all around. To his surprise, both Ruby and Lane remained in their peaceful slumbers despite the noisy ruckus.

“Hello, my child. I heard the sweet voice of a little girl calling out to me. And so, here I am,” said a very high-pitched, feminine voice, projecting itself from the center of the vortex. As the wind began to subside, the vortex dissipated, revealing a gorgeous, middle-aged woman with bright red hair and a ball gown that occupied nearly a quarter of the room’s standing space, “Fear not, your Fairy Godmother is here to make your grandest dreams come true.”

Shrinking down against the wall until his butt was parked against the study room floor, Josh was at a loss for words as he stared blankly up at the mysterious, mystical woman that stood before him. He slowly pushed himself back up on shaky legs and began inching his way toward the door as if he could move slow enough to go undetected by whoever this magical girl was. While he didn’t exactly want to leave Ruby in the hands of this woman, he was nowhere near brave enough to risk his own neck for a girl he only had a crush on.

Unfortunately, just as Josh was about to grab onto the door handle, his body froze with the Fairy Godmother pointing her wand directly at him. Flicking her wand, she forced Josh to turn and approach her, controlling each of his limbs effortlessly. “Now, where do you think you’re running off to, my child? You don’t want to miss your big debut,” she cooed, believing she knew every desire that laid dormant in Josh’s head.

“Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you are, lady, and I don’t care! If you really want to make my dreams come true or whatever, then you’ll leave right now and never come back!” shouted Josh, his fear and annoyance over being ripped away from his studies yet again causing a brief outburst.

Sadly, when it came to outbursts, the Fairy Godmother had a zero-tolerance policy. “Well, this attitude of yours just won’t do. Don’t worry, your Fairy Godmother is here to help put an end to those pesky, hypermasculine feelings,” she said, snapping her fingers and causing a binky to magically appear in his mouth before he could say another word.

“MMMMMMMH! W-WUH?!” muttered Josh, who practically went cross-eyed trying to see what this magical woman had done to him. Sure enough, there was a white paci guard with bright pink accents hanging from his mouth. He instantly moved to spit it out but was flabbergasted when he found that the rubber bulb managed to evade any attempt to push it out from between his lips. Sadly, his transformation was far from over.

Looking satisfied with herself, the Godmother started to wave her wand in small circles, producing a plethora of fairy dust in the process. That fairy dust wafted throughout the study room, compiling around Josh’s feet. He looked down, terrified, and tried to move for the door in hopes of escaping before the situation developed into something far worse. Tragically, he found himself unable to move his legs due to the strength of the Fairy Godmother’s magic.

“Try to relax, my dear. I promise you’ll feel much less aggression soon enough,” said the Godmother, giggling as she continued to spin a glittery web around Josh’s body. Starting from his feet and gradually rising up his slender legs, the shoes around Josh’s feet began to transform in both color and texture, softening the soles and altering the color until they were pastel pink, “Adorable! I’ll bet those booties are much more comfortable.”

In Josh’s eyes, this was utter madness. It should be impossible to transform a person's clothing with a flick of a wand. And yet, it was hard to deny what he was seeing with his own eyes. Traveling up his legs, he watched in horror as his jeans split along the middle of his thighs. The severed pant legs latched onto his legs, hugging them as the material shifted into thin, stocking material.

Meanwhile, the top half of Josh’s pants, along with his underwear, began to bunch up around his junk. Regrettably, it was a far more pleasurable sensation than he wanted to admit as the softening fabric of his undies and scratchy jeans produced a small tent, much to his dismay.

The Fairy Godmother, on the other hand, was beyond ecstatic to spot this development. “See? I knew you’d start enjoying yourself once the diaper appeared,” she said, humming a merry tune as her sparkling dust continued to encircle her hapless victim.

“D-Diapew?!” shrieked Josh as the color drained from his pants, leaving them as pure white as his tighty-whities. Having already smoothed out the rough jean material, it took little time for them to finish their transformation into the crinkly outer plastic of his new diaper. Underneath, his underwear became much thinner, turning into the diaper’s mesh lining before he could blink. From there, he watched with widening eyes as the diaper slowly expanded outward, forcing his legs apart and rounding out until it had formed the biggest nappy he had ever laid eyes on. To his dismay, this only increased the softness and coziness that surrounded his privates, amplifying his reluctant arousal.

Clapping her hands together, the Fairy Godmother was quite pleased with herself in spite of Josh’s less-than-ecstatic expression. “You’ll love this next part! I consider myself quite the wardrobe specialist,” she said as her magical vortex engulfed Josh’s torso, targeting his button-up shirt. One by one, each of the buttons lining his chest and stomach fell to the floor as the two halves of his shirt merged together before stretching down and wrapping around his padded bottom, forming a form-fitting onesie. As a finishing touch, a pair of lace frills flared out around his hips and bottom as his outfit shifted in color from white to pastel pink, making it match his booties.

At last, Josh’s ensemble was complete. As the swirling tornado of glitter settled to the floor and disappeared, he felt whatever was locking his body in place vanish as well, allowing him to move. While only a minute prior, he would’ve bolted toward the exit with his newfound freedom, now that he had fully undergone his wardrobe transformation, he instead used his regained mobility to stomp up to the Fairy Godmother with red in his eyes. “I…you...GAH!” he screamed, failing to find the exact words to express his anger, especially with the pacifier in the way.

Unfortunately, the Fairy Godmother was more than happy to fill in the blanks of Josh’s stuttered speech. “No need to thank me, child. I know you’re a little overwhelmed right now but trust me when I say you may just be the cutest mortal I’ve come into contact with,” she said, sending him into a frustrated temper tantrum as he furiously tried to remove any article of his infantile ensemble. Sadly, he couldn’t even pry the binky from his mouth, much less remove any of the other sissy paraphernalia.

Witnessing his tantrum, the Godmother could only shake her head. “Still resisting your heart’s inner desires, I see. Don’t worry, I can help with that too,” she said, stepping forward and raising her wand to Josh’s forehead. Before he knew what was happening, she tapped him on the forehead, causing him to freeze in place instantly.

*GUUUUUUUUURRRRRRGGGGLE!!!*

In the blink of an eye, Josh’s mind emptied itself of all the knowledge he had worked so hard to gain from primary school all the way through college. That knowledge snaked his way through his body, passing from his head to his bowels in one fluid motion. There was only one thing left to do.

*BLOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRT!!!*

As the back of Josh’s diaper expanded, so too did the dopey smile on his face. What was he so worried about, again? The only thing he remembered was feeling an impossible tightness in his belly. Thankfully, the easiest way to fix that was to push as hard as he could, which he was more than happy to do. Once his messing finally came to an end, he plopped down onto the floor, merrily smushing the mushy contents of his diaper in the process. With a jolly, unashamed smile, he reached forward and grabbed onto his feet, giggling as he wiggled his fingers between his toes.

“Aww, isn’t that so much better, my child?’ said the Godmother, ruffling Josh’s hair as she made her way back to the window, “Sadly, while I’d love to stay and fawn over you, I must be off to my next assignment. Farewell, my child, and enjoy your new life.” As a finishing touch, she waved her wand over Josh’s head and showered him with glitter, magically making him irresistible to anyone with a caregiver’s heart. With her work now finished, she snapped her fingers and vanished into a ball of light before zooming out the window, leaving behind a trail of sparkles and a brand new sissy for his friends to find when they woke up.

TO BE CONTINUED…

PART 2 (COMING SOON) PART 3 (COMING SOON)

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Edited by AllySmolShork

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.