Kinkyberen - Kinkyberen

“Look at how much your attitude has improved! This started as a punishment but I’m making it permanent. The diapers are staying!“

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Such a naughty little baby, now you can pout all you want as you fill your diaper in bed

Zach’s New Life, Chapter 1: The Proposition

CW: ABDL, MDLB, Threesome dynamic, light cucking

Despite being able to sleep in, my body’s internal clock woke me up at eight. I really did try to sleep in, so that I would have some sort of silver lining to loosing my job. I groaned as I lazily bounced myself off my air mattress. My hardwood apartment floor was mostly barren besides the air mattress, an old TV that I took from my parents, and two envelopes that sat at the feet of my door. One red, one white. The red one was anticipated but still disappointing, but the white one was elusively intriguing. I opened the red envelope and found exactly what I expected to find:

Mr. Zach Slider,

We regret to inform you that your monthly rent payment is now late. This marks the third consecutive month you have missed rent. As per Desperado Apartment management policy, you will be evicted. Please be ready to move out within the next ten business days.

Regards, management

I ripped the letter in two in a fit of frustration. The paper shreds floated to the floor where the white envelope sat. I glanced down towards it and was shocked out of my frustration. The first line of the return address held a familiar name: Claire Elise. The same Claire Elise that used to be my girlfriend. The same Claire Elise that discovered that she was, in fact, gay two years into our relationship. We were friendly, but didn’t exactly do a great job keeping in touch besides a few birthday texts and other miscellaneous minor exchanges. All the more reason why this correspondence was strange.

I tentatively scooped the envelope up, and carefully opened it; there were two paper notes inside. One was a thick blue card with large, machine-printed bubble letters that read, “It’s Birthday Time, and You’re invited! 🥳🎉”

The second piece of paper was a piece of stationary paper swimming with beautiful handwritten cursive, Claire’s beautiful handwritten cursive:

Dear Zach,

I hope you’re doing well, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve fallen on some hard times. With that in mind, my girlfriend and I have a very special proposition for you that I think you’ll find interesting. I’d love to see you at my birthday party, so that we can catch up and discuss! Between loosing your job and getting kicked out of your parents’ house, I’m sure cash is tight, so we’ll reimburse you for the road trip to our house. I hope to see you soon!

Love, Claire.

That note was strange for a couple of reasons: firstly, I knew her girlfriend. Her name was Lucy, and I was actually the one who introduced them in an ironic twist of fate’s knife. Second, Lucy and Claire must be doing well for themselves if they were offering to pay my way; I knew they made good money from their respective professions and investments, but still. I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or grateful. Finally, Claire signed the letter “Love”. She hadn’t used that word in regards to me in at least a year and a half. Also, why was Claire being so vague about this proposition? A part of me wanted to ignore the letter, but I knew I couldn’t; I had already opened my phone to text Claire to let her know that I’d be there.

She responded almost immediately: “Awesome! No need to bring a gift btw”

The party was in a day, so I packed my TV and my deflated air mattress into my car, prepared to live out of my car for a few days. The road trip was only three hours, but the gas money was greatly appreciated. With some good music and some even better vibes, I found myself on Claire and Lacy’s doorstep in no time.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before I knocked. I knocked timidly. At first, I thought no one heard me, so I was about to knock again. Before I could, I heard Claire’s voice, “coming!”

The door swung open. Claire stood before me, wearing a gorgeous blue sparkling dress that complimented her dark brunette hair. Her crystal blue eyes regarded me with surprise at first. For a split second, I began to sweat with anxiety. Was that note somehow a mistake? Was I not supposed to be here? Before I could continue contemplating, Claire regained some semblance of composure, “Zach!” She pulled me into a hug, “I’m so glad you came! And you’re early.”

I could feel Claire’s full bodied curves, curves that I used to routinely explore in the dead of night. I cautiously returned her embrace, “yea sorry about that, but there wasn’t a time on my invitation.”

“Oh, sorry about that sweetie, I must’ve—“

“Who is it, honey?” Before she could finish, Lucy sauntered down the stairs to interrupt.

Before Claire could respond, Lucy answered her own question: “Oh it’s the little guy who couldn’t cum unless we told him how much of a good boy he was.”

I blushed. Organizing that threesome might’ve been one of the top 11 worst decisions of my life.

“I’m just kidding, Zach,” Lucy and Claire giggled together, “How are you doing, buddy?”

“Good,” I lied on instinct, “…or actually not great. I just got evicted from my place, so I’m hyped to forget about that and party the night away tonight!”

“Oh that sucks,” Lucy replied, casually flicking her fiery red locks out of her freckled face. Her emerald eyes anxiously darted to Claire and then back to me.

“Yea,” Claire agreed, “that actually reminds me of that proposition I mentioned in my note. Do you want to come sit at the kitchen table, so we can talk about it?”

“Sure,” I replied cautiously.

The kitchen was ornate in a homely kind of way; the light wood of the cabinets was polished and the marble countertops shimmered in the natural light that flowed through the windows.

“So,” Claire started, “do you have a plan now that you’ve been evicted and have lost your job?”

I looked to the table. Of course this was the first thing they wanted to talk about. Who were they, my parents?

“Not yet,” I admitted.

Lucy nodded, “then I think our proposition might interest you.”

“Totally,” Claire agreed, “the proposition involves you living with us as a sort of… roommate. And you’d get to live here rent free!”

I blinked. Why would they want me to live here rent free, “what’s the catch?”

Lucy chuckled, “what a clever boy you are.”

“Just keep an open mind,” Claire said, “and we’ll show you to your room and explain.”

I followed the pair of women up the stairs. We stopped at a room near the end of the hallway. Claire removed a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see.

The room was a nursery, except it was massive. There was a massive white, wooden crib in the corner, a huge changing table in the opposite corner, and a large circular rug in the middle of the room that was decorated with trains, dinosaurs, and the ABCs. Stacks and stacks of adult diapers with childish prints sat under the changing table.

“Wha—“

“Ah ah,” Claire shushed me, “Let us explain before you say anything.”

I silently nodded.

“Good boy,” Claire continued, “Zach we know you’re kinky, and you know we’re kinky. Think of this like that: a fun little kink for all of us to enjoy. Plus, it’s a free place to stay and everything would be taken care of for you!”

“It’s a steal of a deal,” Lucy agreed.

“But… why?” Is all I could muster.

“Well,” Claire’s eyes sunk to the floor, “Lucy and I have been exploring some different things, and we came to the decision that this is what we want.”

“We want a little to care for and call our own, but neither of us felt quite right slipping into that role,” Lucy shrugged.

“But then we thought of the cutest submissive boy we both already know…”

“...Me?” I raised my eyebrows. It was true I tended to lean more to the submissive side, but this was definitely something new to me.

“We’re your friends,” Lucy added, “we want to help you out while helping ourselves at the same time, you know?”

“You work so hard just to get by,” Claire agreed, “and you’re such a sweet guy. Maybe it would be nice to let someone else take care of you for a change?”

“Maybe,” I muttered, trying my best to keep an open mind. Part of me wanted to take offense but a separate part of me was touched by their display of care and concern, albeit strange in nature.

“So what will it be Zach,” Claire smiled up at me, “will you be our baby?”

———————————————————

This is an old story originally featured on my old blog, Diapy Dragon, but I would like to continue/reboot it, so I’m posting it here.

As always, all a characters depicted are 18+

Padded Little Paradise

When Mommy Takes Control

Image Credit: ABDreams.com “Aww… you like that, don’t you? You silly little thing!” A rustle. A quiet moan of agreement, muffled by the rubb

And here it is: a brand-new, extra-long caption! Click on the link for the full (FPN-containing) image!

–––

Image Credit: ABDreams.com

“Aww… you like that, don’t you? You silly little thing!”

A rustle. A quiet moan of agreement, muffled by the rubber nipple between the naked young woman’s lips. A pathetic little wriggle and nod as, with eyes screwed shut and face drawn in a silent transport of humiliated ecstasy, she assented to the amused words of her caretaker.

“Goodness, just look at you! All naked and helpless for me, like the sweetest little baby!” Rhoda continued, her warm voice dropping into a sexy purr of delight. Her hand was working gently, pressing the thick cotton booster suggestively into her partner’s freshly powdered groin. “Anyone else would be completely, utterly humiliated to be treated like this, you know. But you’re not just anyone else, honey, are you?”

Her voice was dripping with loving condescension as she leaned forward, elegantly mascaraed eyes alight with pleasure. “What are you then, sweetie? Go on, tell me. What are you?”

A muffled, barely audible response, between shy and shame-filled moans of ill-concealed pleasure. “I- I’m a ba- a baby– Jus’ a baby-” She was wriggling under Rhoda’s touch, her naked body tensing in irresistible pleasure at such a shameful admission. “Jus’ a siwwy- wih’ul- baybee…“

Rhoda laughed then: laughed over the quiet crinkle of the outspread diaper, laughed over the pathetic little mewlings of her Little partner. “Oh, honey, you’re more than a little baby now. You’re my little baby – mine, and no one else’s. And you know what? You’re going to be my baby for good: forever and ever.”

She bent down and cupped one of her partner’s petite breasts in her hand, smilingly weighing it as if mentally comparing it to her own voluptuous curves. “Just look at how sweet and cute you are without your clothes, baby! So naked and little and innocent, so very, very babyish…”

She giggled and gave the exposed nipple a tiny tweak, eliciting a muffled gasp of ill-suppressed surprise and pleasure from her partner. “Such cute little baby boobies, too – so small and adorable! You know, I think they look so much better like this. We’re gonna leave them nice and naked and free from now on, of course. No more of those silly padded bras. No more trying to pretend you’re a big girl when you’re so clearly not…”

“Yeh- yefh, Mommee-” came the groveling response, and Rhoda chuckled once more, a rush of dominant pleasure coursing through her at the sound of such helpless submission. “Aww, good baby!” she commended, her hand working with renewed vigor between her partner’s splayed legs. “And you’re gonna learn to love your diapers more and more every day, too. Believe me – you’re simply not going to have a choice! You may think sometimes that you do… but, oh, sweetie…”

She broke off, chuckling with dark pleasure as her partner squirmed and writhed under her relentless touch. “Sweetie,” she resumed, “There’s simply no way you can resist me – not even if you wanted! I’m your Mommy now, after all, and I know what’s best. I know exactly how to deal with you… how to make you do every little thing I want… how to train you and teach you and remind you that no matter how big you once were, you’re going to be nothing but an adorable, helpless, brainless little baby by the time I’m done with you…”

The red-faced, labored breathing and the tight-drawn muscles of her partner testified to the groveling pleasure and rising arousal within. She was close now, and with every suggestive thrust of those fingers pressing the soft booster against her shaven and powder-covered pussy – with every condescending word that left her partner’s lipstick-covered lips – she was edging ever closer to one of the most gloriously shameful climaxes she could imagine. Soon she would be cumming: not from penetration, nor even from a vibrator, but from the sheer humiliation and throbbing pleasure of her partner forcing her to become a helpless, laughable, infantilized little toy.

But then… just as she was teetering on the brink of bliss… Rhoda stopped. And oh, the stifled wail of disappointment that escaped her partner’s pacified lips sent fresh shivers of pleasure rippling through her.

“Aww, such an excitable baby!” she crooned, shaking her head at the young woman’s plaintive whines. “You’re getting way too excited for a baby girl as little and innocent as you. But don’t worry,” she added, with a sly little giggle that set her partner a-tremble . “I’m sure we’ll eventually find a way to scratch that silly little itch you seem to have between your pretty little legs. Maybe after you’ve shown me just how well you can fill your pampers… how soggy, and saggy, and smelly such a sweet little baby’s diaper ends up when Mommy takes control…”

And in that moment, the mortified little wail of disgust from her charge sounded in her ears as one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

Be sure to check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my short stories!

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

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

A Fair Trade

“I want to go to the bookstore,” Brynn said. Well, she didn’t say it as much as she whined it–she had a tendency to enunciate all of her requests as if she was a spoiled toddler. But, seeing as how this usually worked in her getting her way, it made sense why this trait stuck after toddlerhood.

“Why?” sighed Lia. “You’re going to wander around there for two hours, read the back of every book you pick up, and then leave without buying anything.” Lia wasn’t this blunt with most of her friends, but she had learned that this was really the only way to deal with Brynn. And even then, it didn’t always work.

“I know,” Brynn whined. “But Fi wants to go to the shore next weekend, so I really should have something to read on the beach. Come on. I’ll be quick.”

A louder-than-expected laugh burst from Lia’s mouth like a bark, causing her to blush a little. “S-sorry, but… We both know that’s not going to happen.”

“C’mon,” Brynn said. “What else did you have to do today?”

Lia glanced further down the street–the plant store, the record shop, and a used clothing store were all within view, and they all sounded better than watching Brynn shrug at thousands of books she knew nothing about. Still, she was a good friend. And she supposed, albeit begrudgingly, that it was more important she stick around for Brynn during this trying time.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Lia finally said. “Let’s look at some books.”

For the first few minutes in the store, Lia tried to hover in Brynn’s vicinity, doing her best to sound engaged when her friend read from the back cover of a book aloud to get Lia’ s opinion on it.

“...and that’s when everything goes wrong. Suddenly, Cynthia finds that her perfect life might not be so perfect after all–and her boyfriend may not be the man she thought he was,” Brynn read. “Does that sound good?”

“That sounds like every single book and movie ever made,” Lia sighed. 

“Really?” Brynn asked. “I think it sounds kind of good. This one’s a maybe.”

 “Alright,” Lia shrugged, holding back any comments she was tempted to make about Brynn being the most basic woman in the world.

From the corner of her eye, Lia spots a sign denoting the “Art & Design” section. The art bug had been biting again lately, and she was feeling eager to pick up a paint brush again for the first time in a while. Maybe, she thought, flipping through some of the art books might stir up some inspiration.

“Hey,” she said to Brynn, who was picking another book from the shelf to glance over. “I’m going to go check out some of the books over there, alright?”

“Sure,” Brynn said. “I’ll narrow it down to, like, four or five books and you can tell me which one I should buy.”

“Uh, sure. Can’t wait.” Lia briskly walked away from Brynn and into the art section, letting out a little sigh of relief when she could no longer smell her friend’s vaguely peachy body spray. She loved Brynn dearly, but Brynn could also be…a lot.

It was a book about Japanese woodblock prints that caught her eye initially, but while the art featured in the book was undeniably gorgeous, it couldn’t have been further in tone from the swirling psychedelic style that Lia preferred when making her own art. Next, she grabbed the book on Jean-Michel Basquiat. Again, her own painting style had little semblance to Basquiat’s (though, whose did?), but she often found his use of color and small details worked as a nice springboard for ideas she’d try to implement in her own work.

“Did you happen to see the Basquiat exhibit in town a few months ago?” a voice somewhere off to her side asked. Lia turned to see a woman standing near her, pulling books from the other side of the same shelf that she was currently looking at. 

“I, uh, didn’t know there was one,” Lia said.

“It wasn’t very big,” the woman shrugged, pushing her blonde hair back behind her ears. She had a brownish-red sundress on that seemed to hug her slender body in all the right ways. God, she was tall. The woman continued: “They just had a handful of pieces on display at the art museum downtown. I’ve seen them before, but it was nice that I didn’t have to travel as far to see them this time.”

“I wish I knew,” Lia sighed. “I suppose it’s over now?”

“‘Fraid so,” the woman shrugged. “But you never know, they might do something like that again.”

“One can hope,” Lia said, craning her neck a little to see if Brynn was still scanning through books. It looked like she was.

“Are you just a fan of the arts?” the woman asked. “Or are you an artist yourself?”

“Both,” Lia smiled. This stranger was fucking beautiful. The kind that she just wasn’t used to seeing in person. The woman looked like a model. Or an actress. And she definitely wasn’t used to people who looked like this talking to her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she carefully considered how she should act. Was it better to seem cool, collected, and unphased by this goddess in her midst? Or did people who looked like this enjoy it more when they were more obviously worshiped?

Lia opted to start with cool and collected–thinking this was the better choice if they were talking about art.

“Is that so?” the woman asked. “What sorts of mediums do you work in?”

“Painting,” Lia said, feeling her cheeks warm a little. “Acrylics, mostly. I’ve always been kind of abstract, but I’m thinking that I kind of want to try my hand at something more–I dunno–impressionist?” She surprised herself at how she offered this much to the stranger. She never liked talking about her art. The last thing she wanted was to sound full of herself–she didn’t think she was talented enough for that.

“I wish that I had that sort of talent,” the woman smiled, showing her perfect teeth. “I think that’s why I enjoy art as much as I do. I can’t make it, so I enjoy using the work of others as gateways into worlds that I couldn’t imagine myself.”

“I like that too,” Lia blushed.

“I’m Agnes, by the way,” the woman said, extending her hand towards Lia. Lia shook it automatically, noting the softness of her skin.

“Lia,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You don’t happen to have any pictures of your art, do you?” Agnes asked.

Lia briefly bit her bottom lip. “Eh, well, I do have an Instagram where I share my work with some friends but…”

“I’d love to see them, if you’d be willing to share.”

Were this anyone else, at any other time, she’d probably try to find excuses as to why she couldn’t share her art. She’d probably fumble at her phone for a few moments before commenting on how her damn phone doesn’t have a good enough connection for her to access her account. But for Agnes–with her big eyes, perfect smile, and voluptuous tits that were gift wrapped in her tight dress–she thought she could probably be convinced to do just about anything. 

“S-sure,” she said. “Let me just, uh, pull it up here.” Lia tapped at her phone and brought up the app, quickly scanning through her last few posts to make sure there was nothing incredibly embarrassing. She quickly deleted one of the photos–a piece she hadn’t ever been particularly happy with. The rest seemed good enough for now. Had she advance knowledge of this interaction, she probably would’ve culled her feed further. “Here you go.”

“Did you go to art school?” Agnes asked as she slowly scrolled through the photos. 

“N-no. Self taught, actually.” 

“That makes sense.”

“Oh, uhm…” Lia wasn’t sure if she should be offended by that or not.

“I mean that in a good way,” Agnes laughed, as if realizing how confusing that might have been. “Your style doesn’t seem bound by rules. There’s something very liberating about it. There’s something almost…” But Agnes doesn’t finish that thought, instead laughing a little to herself as she smiles. “I really like it.”

“Thank you,” Lia said. If she didn’t think it’d make her sound the opposite of cool and collected, she’d gush about how that was one of the nicest things that anyone has ever said about her work.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I follow your art, would you?” she asked.

“Not at all.”

“And…” Agnes tapped her chin for a moment as she passed the phone back to Lia. “Well, I know we just met and this all seems rather sudden and all–but I’m already thinking about how I’d like to own a piece of your art.”

“Really? I mean, uhm, I suppose any of my pieces are for sale if you see any that you really like.”

“What if I commissioned a piece?” she asked. “A new piece. Something that was only ever mine?”

Lia nervously swallowed. It was sometimes hard enough to sit down and make art that she was happy with herself–hence the little break she had taken from art in recent weeks. But she couldn’t even imagine the added pressure of creating art for someone else. Someone who was paying her. Someone who looked like Agnes.

But, again, Agnes was the kind of person that Lia didn’t think she could say no to. 

“Sure. Of course. Did you have anything in mind, or…”

“Oh, if I had ideas I’d be painting them myself,” Agnes smirked. “But if you’re not doing anything else right now, maybe you’d let me buy you a cup of coffee and we could chat about it a little?”

These things never, ever, happen to me, Lia thought. But, again, she glanced in the direction of Brynn, who was amassing a small stack of books in her arms as she continued to make her way through the shelves. 

“That sounds really nice,” she said to Agnes. “But I’m here with my friend, and…”

“Ah, of course,” Agness nodded. “I’ll tell you what–I’m going to friend you on Insta. And when I do, I want you to reach out to me there and tell me what your availability is like so we can meet again, okay? I’m very serious about wanting to commission some art from you.”

Lia’s face felt red and hot, and she had no doubt it was obvious to Agnes. Still, she managed to keep her tone good and steady as she replied: “That sounds great. It was really nice meeting you, Agnes.”

“Likewise,” Agnes said.

Lia briskly walked back towards Brynn, feeling like she was in a little bit of a daze. Had that just happened? Had one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen approached her at random and asked for some of her art? 

“Oh cool,” Brynn said, “you found a book for yourself?”

Lia realized she was still tightly clutching the Basquiat art book in her hands. She remembered setting it down when she was showing Agnes her phone, but she had no recollection of picking it up again. Had she been that distracted by run-in with Agnes?

“Oh, uh, yeah. How about you? Find anything good?”

“Ugh,” Brynn groaned. “So many books. You’re going to have to help me whittle these choices down, okay?”

“Sure,” Lia said, though she already knew she’d be far too distracted to be of any help.

***

Agnes Van Lars followed her account about two hours later. Lia noticed right away–the notification came up on her phone while she was cutting into her lunch as Brynn sat across from her. She was sure her cheeks had turned bright pink again, and she quickly stowed her phone in her purse in an effort to not distract herself anymore than she already had been.

It’d be a few hours later, when she was in her apartment’s bedroom again, that she opened the app and clicked on Agnes Van Lars’ profile.

“Oh shit.”

As it turned out, Agnes was a model–though not the sort that Lia was imagining. Lia was picturing swimsuits and fur coats. Instead, Agness was wearing skin-tight leather ensembles while holding paddles and riding crops. Her bare feet rested on a man’s very happy face in one photo, and in another she was sliding a rubber glove over her hand while a different nude man was bent over a table. 

Kink–BDSM in particular–were always a curiosity to Lia, though she felt like it was a space she was grossly uneducated on. She liked the photos on Agnes’ feed–the juxtaposition of power with good looking (and well hung) men making themselves vulnerable to her power and control. 

None of the photos were too explicit–there was an artsy tastefulness about them, she thought. They often hinted at darker scenes and situations, but without actually showing them. Agnes had been wrong when she said she wasn’t an artist–this was art. She could look at any of these photos and find herself getting sucked into a world of shameful depravity. She could hear the crack of a whip as it lashed against a bare bottom. She could smell the sweat. She could almost taste salty skin on her tongue.

The minutes melted away as she continued to scroll down Agnes’ feed. Every picture was an entirely new trip for her. Then, hundreds of posts into the past, she saw an image that made her audibly gasp. 

Whereas most of the photos–with a few exceptions–had featured Agnes exercising power over men, this one featured a young woman on her hands and knees and looking into the camera as Agnes stood tall in the background with her hands on her hips. The young woman’s makeup was running down her face. Her cheeks were bright pink and her hair was a mess. Sticking out of her mouth was a pacifier–like the things a parent would stick in the mouth of an infant. And the girl didn’t seem to be wearing much, though she did seem to be wearing some sort of undergarment that was far too thick and big to be panties.

A diaper, she thought. That girl is wearing a diaper and sucking on a pacifier.

The caption for the photo read as follows: “Poor little StephyLoo. After a particularly long session with Mommy, she couldn’t help but fill her diapers. See that sag between her legs? It’s even heavier than it looks.”

“What the fuck,” Lia said aloud. No, she wasn’t disgusted. She was almost angry. Angry that she had no idea that this was a thing that people–adults–did with each other. Why did nobody tell me about this?

But maybe she had known. Maybe it was one of those weird things that felt like a punchline to a joke whenever someone talked about it. “Yeah, well, at least you’re not one of those freaks who dresses up like a baby.”

She stared at the photo longer, taking it in and trying to imagine what that scene must’ve been like in person. What had happened to make this girl look like this? That look of pathetic vulnerability, coupled with shameful contentment. And when Agnes said that ‘StephyLoo’ had filled her diaper…what did she mean by that? Had the girl been made to piss herself? Had she…done even more than that in her diaper? That’s what a diaper–an adult diaper at that–was made for, wasn’t it?

Lia let out a little moan, not realizing that her own hand had slid between her thighs as she stared at the photo. She rubbed at her pussy through her pants, not sure how committed she was to completely getting off right now. But then she thought about herself and Agnes, back at the bookstore, and how she might’ve reacted if that conversation had gone a little differently.

“I want to put you in a diaper,” Agnes might’ve said. “I think you’d look just perfect in one.”

“R-really?” Lia would respond. “You think I’d be a good baby?”

“Oh yes,” Agnes would smile. “I think you’d be the best baby.”

“Okay, fuck it,” Lia said aloud, casting her phone aside as she pulled down her pants and panties. She was going to cum right now, and she was going to do it while imagining pissing into a diaper at Agnes’s command.

With her eyes closed, she was back at the bookstore with Agnes again. Somewhere on the other side of the store, Brynn was there too. This would be part of the fantasy, Lia thought–the idea that whatever happened, she could potentially be exposed to Brynn. She’d have to tread lightly.

Now, instead of just talking about wearing diapers in the future, Lia was actually wearing one. Fantastical-Agnes would know this too. 

“How is your diaper holding up?” she’d ask Lia.

“Shh,” Lia would nervously say. “Not so loud…I can’t let my friend know about these.”

Lia wasn’t sure what it was like to wear a diaper. She imagined the thick padding felt bulky between her thighs, and so she pulled her comforter from under her and tucked a wad of it between her legs until it was so thick that she couldn’t close them. Maybe it’s something like this?

Back in her fantasy, Agnes was grinning while looking down at her–it was very easy for her to do that when she was so much taller than Lia. 

“I need to check your diaper,” she said to Lia.

“B-but…here?” Lia asked.

The very thought of this caused her to bite her bottom lip and slip her fingers into her wet pussy. Adults–most of them, at least–weren’t supposed to be wearing diapers. They weren’t supposed to be getting them checked by other people–especially not while in public.

“You don’t want to get a rash, do you? Come here. Let me see.”

Lia wasn’t even sure what a diaper check looked like for an actual infant, let alone an adult. She can only make it up as she goes. She imagines Agnes’ hand sliding between Lia’s thighs, feeling the bulky padding of the diaper through her pants. A wet diaper, she thought, would feel different than a dry one. StephyLoo’s diaper was ‘filled,’ and hung from her hips like a sack. Maybe it was something like that. Maybe Agnes was groping Lia’s crotch in the middle of the book store in an effort to see how heavy it was.

“Young lady,” Agnes would say in a stern, motherly, tone. “Why didn’t you tell me that your diaper was this dirty?”

“I…I…” Lia stammered. Her cheeks in her fantasy were as bright pink as they were in real life.

“We’re going to have to do something about this right now,” Agness would say. “Come on. We’re going to find a public restroom, and I’m going to have to change you there.”

“But,” Lia would plead, “what if there are other people in there? They’ll see!”

“There’s nothing I can do about that now,” Agnes shrugged, grabbing Lia’s wrist. “I’m changing your diaper regardless.”

Fuck, that was good stuff. One hand pushed the wadded ball of her comforter tighter against her pussy, while she continued to finger herself with the other. 

But this scene was missing something. She considered it for a moment or two, trying to imagine what would make this even hotter. She thought of the photo of StephyLoo (whoever that was) again, wondering if there were any other details she needed to import into her fantasy. The pacifier? Maybe. It was certainly a step in the right direction. 

It suddenly dawned on her. It wasn’t what was in the photo–it was the photo itself. Someone else had to take that picture. Whatever humiliating events had transpired in that room with Agnes Van Lars, someone else had been there to witness it and capture it with a camera. 

That was what she needed in her fantasy–to be witnessed in such a state.

“I–I don’t need to be changed right now,” Lia would protest. She knew she was wrong about this, but she wanted to see Agnes react to this defiance.

“Silly girl, you don’t know anything,” Agnes would sigh. With a firm tug on either side of the waistband of Lia’s pants, Agness would pull them down to her knees–right there in the middle of the bookstore. Her diaper was completely on display. “Look at yourself, Lia. Your diaper is completely soaked! And you’re going to try and tell me that you don’t need to be changed right now?”

The other patrons of the bookstore were tittering and snickering. Whispering to each other. People were pointing. Lia’s heart pounded faster, and her fingers went into overdrive as they caressed her wet skin.

And then Brynn would approach. Brynn, of all people–who was practically a giant whiny toddler herself–she’d be the one to see Lia in a dirty diaper. “Oh my god!” she’d shout. “LIa…did you pee yourself like a baby?”

“Yes, she did,” Agnes would say. “But…”

Lia would have to wait until another time to hear what Agnes would say, as it was at that moment that she came. It was an epic climax–the strongest she had had in recent memory. She felt herself squirting into the comforter–no doubt leaving an embarrassingly large wet spot that she hoped would dry sooner than later.

It would take a few minutes for her to recover. And when she finally sat up, the very first thing she did was send a message to Agnes Van Lars.

***

When Lia went to a bar, it was always a very particular kind of bar. She wasn’t really sure how to describe them. ‘Nice?’ They were either very clean, or made to look artificially dive-y while still actually being quite clean. The kind of place with a long list of craft beers on tap and a bearded guy behind the bar wearing a t-shirt with either David Bowie or Debbie Harry’s face on it.

This was different. This wasn’t a ‘nice’ bar.

Everything here felt kind of aggressive. The electronic music. The sneering face of the pale-looking bartender. The complete lack of a cocktail menu to offer easy choices. Even the lighting seemed both too dark and too harsh. It wasn’t her kind of place, which was what made it kind of exciting.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” Agnes said as they both took a seat in one of the booths. “I know it's a little loud here, but I think these are some of the best bartenders in the city.”

Lia looked over to the bar again, where two or three ghostly barkeeps were in the process of either shaking or stirring drinks for other patrons. She could sit and watch this place all day, trying to imagine the types of conversations people had here.

“No problem at all,” she said.

“Have you been here before?”

Lia laughed. “N-no. Never.”

“Where do you like to go?” Agnes asked.

“Uh… Boot & Barrel? Main Street Brewing?”

Agnes shrugged. “Never heard of them.”

Once more, Lia took some delight in how different their worlds were. If it wasn’t for their chance run-in at the bookstore, Lia wondered if there would’ve ever been any overlap in their lives. It was a strong argument for fate. 

“So, uhm, you were interested in commissioning some art?” Lia asked.

“Indeed,” Agnes nodded. “You know, after we parted ways the other day, I went through your entire profile to look at all of your work.”

Lia blushed. Once or twice, she had considered further pruning her feed and culling the weaker pieces, but ultimately decided that was a slippery slope to go down. By the time she was done, she might’ve only been left with one or two photos on her feed. “What did you think?”

“I’m even more excited to work with you than I was before,” Agnes said. “There’s this quality about your work that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I feel like it’s always there. This sort of…energy. It’s very unique. Very special.”

“Wow,” Lia said. “Thank you so much.” Nobody has ever spoken about her art like this, so far as she knew.

“Well deserved, I assure you,” Agnes said. 

“I, uhm, took a look at your profile too,” Lia said. She wasn’t sure if she was actually going to admit this or not, but she needed to change the subject from herself, and this was the first thing she could think of.

“Is that so?” Agnes asked, smiling. “And what did you think of that?”

“It was a little surprising,” Lia said sheepishly.

“How so?”

“It’s just…you know…” She paused and thought about how she actually wanted to respond to that. “It was different. I don’t know much about, you know, that kind of stuff. So it was very eye-opening.”

“You didn’t find it distasteful, I hope.”

“Not at all,” Lia said. “Quite the opposite, really. I thought it was all pretty fascinating.”

Agnes smiled. “I’m delighted to hear that, Lira. Really. I was nervous that you’d see my content and judge me pretty harshly.”

“No,” Lia said. “I liked it.”

They ordered some drinks and the injection of alcohol helped to steer more natural conversation. While neither seemed to have much in common with the other, on the surface, they quickly found that they had more subtle similarities. Just like Lia, Agnes confessed to having insecurities about her content. And, just like Agnes, Lia thought the act of creating was often more important than the finished product. They were getting along much better than Lia anticipated.

“Now then,” Agnes said. “I want you to make me some art. What do we have to do to make that happen?”

“This is a good start,” Lia smiled. “Maybe just tell me more about what you want and when you want it?”

“What about compensation?” Agnes asked.

“Oh, uhm… I mean, we don’t really have to make this, like, a transaction or anything.”

“Stop that,” Agnes smiled. “I’m going to compensate you for your time. I’d just need to know how much.”

The closest that Lia had ever come to assigning value to her art was when she had donated a piece to her mother’s nonprofit for a fundraiser–and even then, it wasn’t her who benefited from the sale. She didn’t make art for the money. She had a job that covered her expenses. The art was just about passion. 

But she had an idea.

“So,” Lia said, taking one more sip of her cocktail for good measure, “I just wouldn’t feel right accepting money for my art. But…maybe we could, uhm, barter?”

Agnes’ eyes widened as she laughed. “Interesting. What did you have in mind?”

“Well… I could paint something for you. And then, maybe, you could take some photos with me? Like…the kind on your profile?”

Agnes nodded approvingly. “I like this idea, Lia. What kind of photos were you thinking? Did you want to stomp on some pathetic man’s face? Did you want to peg someone? Maybe you’d like to give someone a spanking. I could arrange for any of that.”

“A-actually…I was thinking that you’d be doing something to me.”

“Naughty girl,” Agnes said, shaking her head and laughing. “It’s always the ones you least expect, huh? What do you think you’d like? Need to feel a paddle on your backside? Nipple clamps? I just got this amazing straightjacket and…”

“I saw this picture on your profile that I’ve been thinking a lot about,” Lia said. 

“Which?”

It was tempting to show it to Agnes, though she knew she probably didn’t have to. All she had to do was say ‘diapers.’ Of course, she couldn’t imagine saying that out loud in a place like this–even if she was sure that the loud music would make certain that nobody else would hear her.

Instead, she offered a name: “StephyLoo?”

“Oh,” Agnes said, looking genuinely surprised. “Really?”

Lia nodded. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think that sounds like a lot of fun. But I didn’t expect you to say that.”

Lia shrugged. “What can I say? It stirred something in me.”

“Actually, you know what?” Agnes laughed, rapping her knuckles on the table. “That actually does make a lot of sense, now that I think about it.”

“How so?”

“Do you remember how I said that there was something about your art that I liked, but couldn’t put my finger on why?”

“Yes,” Lia nodded again.

“See, I think that’s exactly what it is–it’s this sense of childlike whimsy.”

“Childlike?” Lia asked, momentarily dumbfounded. She’d never once considered her art to be childish in any way. She wondered if this was how people actually saw her art. Because if so, she’d probably share a lot less of it moving forward.

“Don’t take offense to it,” Agnes said. “I don’t mean that it looks like a child painted it. I mean that your approach–your color choices and even the movement of your brush strokes–gives your art a sense of uninhibited freedom. The same sort of freedom that I may attribute to, say, a child–as opposed to an adult who’s had all the whimsy drained from their body by the world.”

The longer Lia sat with Agnes’ words, the better she felt about it. She could see where Agnes might be coming from, and now she was feeling kind of silly for not seeing it sooner herself. She always felt like her art came from some part of herself that didn’t get expressed otherwise, and she now had words to describe that part.

“Thank you,” Lia finally said, her cheeks turning pink again.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Agnes said, leaning back a little in her chair as she sips from her martini glass. “What if I give you your, uhm, payment first? I’ll give you whatever experience you want, yes? And then, after, I’d want you to paint something for me. It can be anything you want, so long as it’s inspired by the time you and I spent together.”

Lia considered this for a moment. She liked the idea of it, though she always knew that the hardest paintings to finish were the ones she went into with any sort of purpose. It just felt easier to create when she could just follow whatever whim–however momentary–she was feeling. Then again, maybe this was the shake-up her process needed. 

If nothing else, it seemed like a good idea to at least try.

“Yes,” said Lia. “I like that idea.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Agnes laughed. “And with plenty of time to spare. Another round?”

Lia downed the remnants in her glass and nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

With the details of their arrangement settled, any remaining tension and uncertainty felt by Lia seemed to fade away. Despite her concerns that she and Agnes had little in common, she found herself having a good time with her new friend. They talked. They drank. Agnes even convinced Lia to dance with her–something that Lia never did in public.

And when it seemed like they were winding down and about to call it a night, Agnes gently tapped on Lia’s shoulder while smiling.

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering,” Agnes said. “You don’t have to go home right away, do you?”

“N-no,” Lia said. “But…where else would I go?” Only after the words had exited her mouth did she realize what Agnes was asking. “Oh…”

“I won’t be offended if you decline my offer. But I’m feeling pretty good right now, and I don’t think I’m ready to call it a night just yet. You could come over to my place. The drinks are cheaper. And…I have diapers.”

Just hearing the word made Lia feel a little smaller. She bit her bottom lip, thinking about StephyLoo’s pathetic face staring into the camera, and she nodded.

***

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How it all started...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m an ABDL.”

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

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

…and I was right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xx

A while back I talked about making a diaper audio…. And here is my first attempt! 

I hope you enjoy the experience of wetting your pants in front of me - when it’s not the first time.

Apologies for the rough editing.  If you all enjoy this sort of thing, I’ll edit my next one better.  Let me know what you think!