Indulge Your Kink!

Check the pinned post for full OC archive. Writer, smut-maker, and daddy of @diaperedlilgirl, here to share my weird fantasies and meet awesome people like you! 30's, NMIK

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OmNomNomDom's AB/DL Fiction Index

Hello, friends!

As many of you know, I was deleted some time ago, and though my account was restored, my content remained purged 😔.

It has taken me some time to start putting up old favorite captions and stories, but I finally have, and it wouldn't be a true OmNomNomDom page without an index:

Remastered Captions

Risk and Reward ft. @paddedkittenvuittqn (H, M)

Une Question Simple ft. @abdreams (L)

The Hare ft. AnabelleLeakyGirl (H)

Upstream ft. Bubblybuns (O, H, M)

Classic Stories

Little Lamb (O, H, M)

Aristocrats! (B, M)

By Any Other Name (P, B, M)

Louder than Words (H, O, M)

Hope's Eternal Spring

Tags Key

M - Messy H - Hypnosis / mental regression

O - Omorashi B - BDSM P - Petplay

L - Language Play

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Little Lamb - Remastered

An old favorite, republished for your reading pleasure. “He’s all yours.” 

Agent April Parker nodded to the burly old prison guard, turning from the heavy door just as it clanged shut and beginning to unload her binders full of notes onto the long table. She could see her subject across the room, and her physical impression of him - the first, silent step of her profiling process - was about to begin. 

Walton Holbrook, as far as she could see, looked more rugged than his mid-30s age, with a thick, sandy stubble on his chin and four deep-set lines across his forehead. But beyond his weathered looks, his muscular build, and the tattoos that ran across his arms and neck, there was nothing to suggest that this was a man who had spent nearly his entire life in prison. There was simply no outward aggression about him. Even now, with cuffs around his hands and ankles, he seemed utterly nonchalant, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he whistled quietly to himself. 

Once more, she looked the man up and down, trying to make sense of his strange demeanor. And then, she sat down at the end of the long table, took a deep breath, and adjusted her dirty blonde hair to ensure a clean, professional appearance. It was time to begin the formalities.

“ Agent Parker, FBI. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

The man turned his head slowly towards his interrogator, a wide, unnatural smile on his face as he redirected his stare. 

“Yes?”

“Mr. Walton Holbrook?”

“Ah, that’d be me!” came an immediate, almost saccharine response. 

“Thank you. Mr. Holbrook, where were you on the night of…”

“Have you always wanted to ask that?” he cut her off, zooming through his words, “On the night of October 25th, 1994, I was at the Kendall house fire. That’s why I’m here, silly!” 

April was flustered by the interruption, shaking her head to reorient as she skipped ahead in her notes. 

“Thanks…” she mustered, unsure whether to show appreciation at the quick reply or scold the inmate for interrupting her, “and is it true you pled-”

“Not guilty to starting the fire? That’s correct!”

“And yet-”

“I was still sent to a juvenile detention center, at the tender age of eight years old? Why, yes, you’re on a roll!”

“And don’t you find it-”

“Strange that I’ve been here since, seeing as no one died in the fire, all the physical evidence pointed to John Kendall, and my behavior, by all accounts, has been good? Well, I can certainly see why someone would find that strange,” he gabbled, his plastic smile unwavering. 

“And who is-”

“John Kendall? Ah yes, my adoptive father. Rambled a lot, and no - we didn’t have much of a relationship. And yes, I’m aware he’s in an institution now.”

Agent Parker rubbed her forehead as she tried to make sense of what was going on. It wasn’t just that her rhythm was broken - the questions that Walton had anticipated were exactly the ones she was going to ask, detail for detail, word for word. Were they just that predictable?

“Oooh, oooh!” he mocked, “if you’re done, can I ask a few questions?”

“I-”

“No, I insist, Detective! Since I’ve been so generous and forthcoming with my responses, I think it’s only fair that I should get my turn.”

“I’m not a det-”

“Not important. Now, may I?” 

“I- uh… I don’t… fine, sure.” she finally acquiesced. It would buy her time, she told herself, and might give her some insight into this strange man’s mind.

“Ah, where to start?” Walton Holbrook licked his lips, “tell me, who was president when the fire happened? I’m just curious.”

The agent paused for a moment, furrowing her brow as she stared towards the floor. She was a political buff and had always been a strong history student, and yet no names were coming to her mind. 

“I… I don’t know, I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled. 

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” the man said, his smile widening, “just checking. Now, my next question, next… why are you here?”

After a moment of recalibration, the agent cleared her throat and leaned forward, hoping to finally establish a bit of credibility. 

“As I mentioned before, I-”

“No, no. I mean, why are you here?” the man interjected, “It’s quite clear from looking at you that you’re too young to have been on this case from the start, so why is it that you’re here now? Did you volunteer for this? Am I just that fascinating to you? Ooooh, is there some wild arsonist on the loose that you’re trying to nab?”

Agent Parker signaled for the man to stop chattering, and for a moment he let up. “The internal processes of the FBI are stric-,” she began. 

“Oh, but maybe it'll help us solve the mystery! Pretty please, detective?”

The girl sighed and weighed her options. It would be a violation of procedure to answer, but she clearly wasn’t making any progress as things were going. 

‘“For your information,” she relented, “I was assigned to this case by my superior off-”

 “Why? Was it random? Did they give you a reason?” 

The agent was annoyed now. “Actually, they did. I was selected for my thoroughness and professionalism. Now can we please get back to the questioning?” 

“Oh, wow! You know, I would applaud, but, you know…” the man gestured to the cuffs on his hands, “and yes, of course. Just one last question - are you scared?”

“Sorry?” The girl raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, seeing as how it’s a very mysterious case,” he mocked, “well, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to ask if it worries you. I mean… there could be some sort of cover-up involved. This could go deep. Who knows? Maybe I could be hiding something. Maybe I really am the bad guy. 

“So tell me honestly, detective, are you scared of me?”

Given a rare quiet moment, the agent sat up and inhaled, trying to gather up all the confidence that she could. “No, Mr. Hol-”

“No, no, that’s not good enough. I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you’re not scared. Can you do that?”

“Fine,” Agent Parker rolled her eyes before trying to fix them on the inmate, “I’m not-” 

And then, she was lost. 

There wasn’t anything that seemed particularly captivating about Walton Holbrook’s blue eyes and painted-on smile, but the girl found herself utterly entranced. Her train of thought vanished completely, and she could do nothing except stare. 

For a few moments, there was silence. And then, finally, Agent Parker snapped out of it, awoken not by any internal force of will, but by a warm, wet feeling running down the inside of her pants. 

The woman jumped back and gasped. “What the-?” she mumbled, staring down at her obvious accident. 

Walton Holbrook laughed wildly. “Well, it certainly seems like you’re scared!”

“I- I- I-” she stammered.

“Now now, it’s alright,” he said, quieting down slightly, “happens to the best of us. Tell you what, why don’t you go wash up in the visitor restroom? I’ve saved something special in there for you.” And with that, he winked. 

Agent April Parker was suspicious, confused, and deeply worried. But she could use any excuse to leave the room, and so she did, mustering only “stay here!” as a vain attempt to maintain authority as she left.    

The agent trudged slowly through the empty prison hallway and towards its single-stall bathroom, trying all the while to make sense of what had just happened. She had suspected coming into the day that Walton Holbrook would be an unusual fellow, but she could never have imagined anything like this.

Her head was throbbing, and the first thing she did as she walked into the stall was to rest it in her hands, her elbows fixed on the sink for support. And then, as she tried to reorient herself, she spotted something in the corner of her eye, and she knew immediately that it was the special something Walton Holbrook had been referring to. 

It was a diaper. A thick, crinkly, plain white diaper, planted on a box beside the sink, as if her accident had been part of some plan. 

The agent was horrified. She stood for several minutes, transfixed and quivering, trying to gulp down her emotions and process the situation. 

And then, finally, she tapped her ear.

“Parker here,” she said into the small microphone, “do you copy?”

The stood, tapping her feet in the nervous silence. And when another “do you copy” was met with the same empty static, she decided to leave a message.  

“Currently at prison conducting Holbrook interrogation,” she began, struggling to maintain a firm tone, “subject seems to have some sort of… hypnotic ability. Will- will attempt to build trust. If you do not receive further update, please- please send backup.

“Over.”

With that, the woman exhaled, turned to the garment laying in front of her, and began to unfold it. 

Some moments later, Agent April Parker reentered the interrogation room, waddling slightly as she walked, the pants on her uniform looking as if they were about to burst. 

“Happy now?” she asked, trying not to look directly at the inmate. 

“Oh, of course!” the man answered immediately, “Always lovely to see my gifts going to good use.”

“I see,” the agent grumbled, cheeks turning slightly red as she sat back down in her chair with a crinkle. “So… you’re some kind of hypnotist, I take it?” 

“I suppose you could say that,” Walton smiled. 

“How long have you had these little… talents?”

“Oh, I think I’ve been aware of my extraordinary abilities from a very early age. Pots and pans flying around, that sort of thing. And I could tell that the children I was forced to interact with, even the adults around me, were far, far beneath my level.”

“I see,” Agent Parker nodded, scribbling a note in her notepad. 

And then, she glanced down at what she had written. 

Has vary hi self-opinien 

No, that didn’t seem right. So the agent scribbled it out and tried again. 

mister holebruk iz ful of hiself 

Looking down with panicked eyes, April began to sweat, wondering if she was losing her mind. She scratched the note off again and tried to rewrite it, but this time she struggled to remember which way the letters pointed. All the while, her subject was rambling on about something she had completely lost track of. 

“Could you… could you please not talk so fast, Mr. Holbrook?” she mumbled, desperately. 

“Not talk so fast?” the man repeated, sounding incredulous, “Whatever do you mean, detective? I’ve been speaking at a perfectly normal pace this whole day. It’s you that’s slowed down.” 

The woman turned her gaze back up and sat in a stunned silence, her heart loudly pounding as she tried to determine if the man was bluffing. As she shuffled nervously in her seat, she could feel that her diaper had grown heavier - and soggier - since she first put it on. 

And then, she began to sense a rapidly growing need in her bowels. It was another thing to worry about, perhaps, but she was relieved to have an excuse to leave the room. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Holbrook I gotta run!” she fired off, scrambling off her chair as if she was in a track meet. 

“Oh, no no no no no,” the man said condescendingly, and April stopped - without a thought, without wanting to, only a few feet from the door.  

“You’re not going anywhere, young lady,” he continued, “After all, this could be your great opportunity to really earn my trust.”

“No, please, Mr. Holbrook, please, I really gotta go,” she begged.

“Have to go where, little girl?” he grinned.

“To the po- to the pot-, to the bafw - I HAFTA GO!” She pleaded, jumping up and down as a sense of fog filled her mind. 

“Oh, but if you stay here, I’ll tell you the whole truth. Isn’t that what you wanted, detective?”

The girl shook her head vigorously, trying to hold back tears. She didn’t want the answers anymore - she just wanted out. 

“Tsk tsk tsk. Making things difficult, are we? Tell you what, why don’t I make things simple? Come stand behind your chair, now.”

Agent Parker’s legs began to move on their own, and she felt like a puppet, pulled by strings she couldn’t see. Soon, she was in the middle of the room, right in the eye of the security camera. 

“Good girl,” Holbrook mocked, a hint of menace in his patronizing tone, “Alright, now drop those pants to the ground.” 

April’s hands undid the pants of her uniform, acting against her will. Instantly, she was standing with her thick, sagging diaper completely exposed. All the while, the pressure inside her was boiling, and she was struggling to hold it in. 

“Lovely,” the man smiled, still giving instructions from his seat, “now just bend over - make sure the camera has a nice, clear view of your bottom.”

The girl’s body did as she was told, and she closed her eyes, bracing for what was about to come.

“And now you can let go.”

All at once, the mess that had been building inside April Parker’s body splattered into the back of her diaper, filling it to its brim and turning its outside a distinct shade of brown. 

“Very good,” Walton’s smile widened, “I’m sure your superiors will be so proud of you when they watch that. You can come back to your seat now.” 

April finally felt control of her body, but she was too defeated to do anything but follow. Without realizing it, she began sucking her thumb for comfort as she staggered forward, her eyes still closed and facing down. She was fighting back tears, but for the moment, at least in that fight, she was holding. 

That was until she sat down with a loud, unmistakable squish, and, with the feeling of warm mush pressing up on her rear, started to cry. 

“You see, detective,” Walton said casually, paying no mind to the girl’s state, “my mystery isn’t really all that hard to solve. Seems my powers just drove a few people a little mad, and they went ahead and burned down a house to try and kill me. Of course, they weren’t successful, but they decided to blame it on me anyway.

“No, no, where the real fun begins is when the authorities figured out what had happened, and when they started to understand what I was. When it became clear to them how helpless they would be if they ever got on my bad side, well, we just had to work out a little arrangement. And that- well, that’s why you’re here today.”

The girl shook her head as hard as she could, thumb still planted firmly in her mouth, but she knew deep inside that Walton Holbrook was telling the truth.

“Did you really think that you were put on this case because you were so talented and hard-working? No, no, little April, quite the opposite. You were chosen because you were expendable. You’re nothing more than a sacrificial lamb, a virgin tribute to appease a mighty god.

“You’re going to get used to diapers just like the one you’re in now. You’re going to be a good little girl, and you’re going to listen to Daddy. And if you don’t, then I’ll just have to turn your brain to such mush that you’ll forget how to crawl. Now, doesn’t that sound fun?”

By this point, Agent April Parker had lost both the ability and the will to hold back her tears. She cried as Walton stood and snapped off his cuffs, she cried as he nonchalantly walked across the room, and she cried as he slung her over his shoulder and began carrying her downstairs to meet the others.

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Happy Halloween, everyone!

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Ghosts of Accidents Past (Remastered)

An old spooky story, reposted for your Spooky Day enjoyment.

Two miles to go.

Groggily, you begin your journey home. The autumn air is heavy and thick, and your mind is just as foggy. Scattered recollections from the previous night flicker by - cans and bottles thrown about, music blaring, wild boasts and dares made drunkenly. You said yes to something - that you’re sure of - but the picture beyond that is blurry, and even trying to remember the night is giving you a headache.

The first leg of your trip is dull, but peaceful. Off in the distance, dogs bark, and the morning brings its usual clamor. You trudge slowly along the sidewalk, hoping that the cool air will help clear your mind.

And then, you feel a slight twinge in your bladder, and a voice comes to you.

Uh oh. 

For a moment, you pause along the road. Where, you wonder, did that thought come from? Why, all of a sudden, is your heart beating faster?

Closing your eyes to concentrate, you find yourself facing an old lecture hall. In the crowd, you can make out a handful of old friends and  classmates, and your memory begins to piece itself together.

That presentation meant so much to you. You had worked so hard on it, and you didn’t want to risk the embarrassment of being out of the room when your turn to speak was called. So you sat there, patiently, diligently, even when you could feel that need creeping up.

By the time the professor finally did call your name, the pressure had turned to pain, and it was already too late. All you could do was try to hastily deliver the slides you had worked so long to assemble, hoping desperately that you could get through them in time.

Only when it became clear you couldn’t, did you finally see the grievous error of your ways. By then, you had waited too long even to leave the room in time, and there were still five slides to go. With your face reddening, with your legs twisted over each other, you couldn’t help but look around the room at the raised eyebrows and covered whispers of your peers, the reality setting in that they already knew what they were about to see.

Opening your eyes, you begin to walk faster. Glancing the street signs as you go, you estimate a mile and a half left. Your tired mind does its best to work through the calculus - how long before you reach home? Will you be able to unlock your door in time? To make it up the stairs to the bathroom? To remove your clothes before it’s too late?

Hurry. 

Your brisk pace turns to a sprint, and you nearly trip over yourself as you try to weave past waste bins and passersby. The urge emanating from your bladder is still small, but you can feel it growing.

It’s happening again. 

The words bring you back to an office. You begin to piece together a middle-aged man, with gray hair and a suit, seated across from you, sorting through papers while a younger woman looks on.

It’s an interview, and you really wanted the job.

But you just had to repeat your mistakes, just had to put yourself in the same position, cross-legged and desperate, with no way out.

You can still hear the hiss of that warm stream, forcing its way out onto the office chair. You can see your interviewer slowly lifting his head as his assistant gasps.

And you escape, back to the present.

The run is too much for your body, and you have to stop. Panting violently, you grasp your hands onto your shaking knees and try to think.

Something about last night comes back to you. The party. Something about a dare - some kind of ‘curse’ file your friend was talking about. Something about memories. And you said yes.

So then, were those memories all fabricated? But they felt so real. So vivid, so stark…

The loud laughter of children strikes you. You can hear it transform, slowly, from a playful joy to something more focused, something cruel.

It was your seventh birthday party, and they were laughing at you.

“Pee pee pants!”

“Pants wetter!”

“Baby! Baby! Baby!”

You see your mother, towering over as she leans down to console you. There’s a look of pity in her eyes. Did she know then? Did she know that you would be this pathetic pants wetter your whole life?

Surely, that memory had to be real. Didn’t it?

You’re not going to make it.   

Your head is spinning, but you tell yourself you have to get up, have to keep going. You run again.

Again, the cackle of children rears itself into your mind, but it’s an older group this time. It’s not your classmates, and it’s not your friends.

You remember now. You were a schoolteacher once.

You probably should have known back then that it was a recipe for disaster. With no assistants to cover for you, you were never allowed to leave your class unattended, your only short breaks coming at the ends of fifty-minute periods.

And yet, you walked right into it - you never learn, do you? You found yourself desperately needing to go when you were supposed to be the adult in the room, when all eyes had to be on you. And when that trickle inevitably came, well before the bell rang, they all watched you, in all your dress-to-impress business wear, wet your pants like a pathetic child. And they loved it.

Just like that, you saw all the respect, and all the sense of authority, that you had with these teenagers vanish into nothing. They were high school seniors, after all, not much younger than you. Of course they would pounce like hungry wolves at the chance to show you weren’t better than them. Of course they took pictures. Of course they told their friends and their parents. And of course you could never, ever live it down.

Your head is spinning. There’s still almost a mile to go. You start to look around, you start to wonder if there is anything else to do. Maybe you can duck into a local restaurant and use their bathroom. Maybe you can go into the woods, and do your business there.

But then, what’s to say that the urge won’t come right back up again? After all, the urge doesn’t seem so strong now, and it didn’t seem so strong then, until it was too late. After all of your embarrassments, how could you trust yourself at all?

You continue to scan desperately around, searching for some possible reprieve. Finally, finally, you happen upon a drug store.

It’s the only way.

Violently, you go crashing in, swerving wildly to avoid the other shoppers, knocking over cases and displays as you go. At last, you make it to aisle 7 and find what you so direly need.

By the time you sprint up to the cash register with your bag of diapers in hand, the entire store is staring at you. Some are whispering, some are gasping, some you can hear laughing. But it doesn’t matter. This is what you have to do.

With trembling hands, you hand your card over and make your purchase before asking to use the store’s restroom. Then, you dart over with your new garments in tow, slamming the door behind you.

You begin frantically to unzip your pants and lower your underwear, before tearing at the bag of Depends and pulling one out. Finally, you hastily unfold it and put it on, collapsing on the toilet in an exhausted heap when the task is complete.

In the brief onset of clarity that follows, you begin to realize that, perhaps, more of those memories were fabricated than you imagined. You never were a schoolteacher, after all, and you never had to present anything in front of a lecture hall. Perhaps, they were all the makings of a twisted piece of hypnosis, designed to lead you precisely to this point. Maybe, you don’t really need diapers after all.

But you can never be sure.

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All Game No Life (Remastered)

A collab I did with DrDaddy19, reposted for your Halloween enjoyment.

To the adoring viewers, she was the legendary Kamiya254, a strategy-minded master of simulation, role-playing, and puzzle games. In reality, she was Steff, a dean’s list college student and star track athlete. And Steff was bored.  

She had conquered all the popular titles, besting many of her rival streamers - and never letting them forget it. But wanted a new challenge, and so she asked her followers for a suggestion - something deep and immersive, something she'd never seen before. And luckily, one of them had just the pick. 

From the moment she started Doctor D's Infinite Playground, Steff was impressed by the colorful aesthetic and creative level designs. The puzzles were wacky, the world was full of rich detail, and the play was simple and addictive. There was just one problem - her character sucked. 

Steff was baffled. How was she supposed to navigate through the world and solve puzzles with a character that couldn't even walk, or talk to the NPCs? Did she really have to crawl through every level? So she asked her follower for help - the same one who suggested the game - and he delivered. 

It all came down, he pointed out, to a hidden menu for character customization, and Steff was stunned when she saw how easy it looked. There was no request for payment, no gold or gems or progress required. All it took was a simple press of an "Upgrade" button with a large red "WARNING!" underneath it. 

It seemed too good to be true. And sure enough, when she pressed it, the girl felt an electric shock. 

"Well, this is new," she remarked, trying to shake off the odd sensation. Somehow, though, it only made the game seem more intriguing, and if that was all she had to pay to upgrade, it seemed like a great deal. And so, Steff brushed off her dull headache as the result of too much playing, and pressed on with her powered-up character, easing through the next few levels as she was finally able to move around comfortably and gather information from the other characters. 

That night, she bought herself a stuffed animal. She didn't know why - it just felt right. 

Steff was completely hooked. She kept upgrading, zooming through levels as her character gained ability after ability, learning to jump, drive, swim, and even sneak around undetected in the game world. All the while, her pile of stuffies grew, and her bedroom transformed from a simple gaming den to a pink and pastel wonderland. 

Of course, as she was quickly becoming incapable of realizing, the boosts in her character’s abilities and intelligence were coming at the cost of her own. As she went deeper and deeper into the game, she started to falter at those track meets she once dominated, finishing 4th, then 10th, then last. Her grades, once top of her class, began to plummet. And her commentary, once full of powerful strategic insight, turned to clueless, childish babble - something her viewers seemed to enjoy tremendously.

By the time she reached Level 38, Steff had to drop out of school altogether, unable to keep up with what her professors were saying. She chalked it up to the time she spent playing, but it didn't matter to her anyway - she had always dreamed of being a full-time streamer, and her follower count was booming.

By level 63, though, the girl was even struggling with getting her console set up. Luckily, a follower volunteered to come over and help her- the same one who told her about the character upgrade hack, the very same one who suggested she buy the game in the first place. The old Steff would never be so naive as to invite over a complete stranger like that, but she had fallen far from the old Steff. 

Her character’s stats and skills were through the roof, but the game’s puzzles were giving her headaches. Even when her chat seemed to insist they were simple challenges that small children could solve, Steff found herself baffled, and if any numbers were involved she would simply give up. Pumping more stats into her character seemed to be her only option, but she swore off the upgrade button after her regular electric shock on level 81 caused her to wet herself suddenly, leaking through her pants in front of all her viewers (who seemed to eat it up).   

Her new friend, though, was more than happy to help, guiding “Steffie,” as he called her, along through the play, reading and explaining text on screen to her, and always checking to make sure she remembered to go potty while streaming. And when he noticed that she kept trying to play one-handed because of a thumb-sucking habit she developed, he was even nice enough to find a pacifier for her to use. She started calling him Daddy, and he seemed to enjoy that. 

And then, she reached level 96. Even with a character capable of flying, punching through walls, and reading minds, it seemed she had no way of breaking through. Frustrated, Steffie banged her fists against her bed, bawling as her chat gawked at her tantrum. But as her daddy pointed out, it seemed the only way forward would be to max out her character completely. 

And so, Steffie went to the hidden menu, and clicked the “Upgrade” button one last time.   

In an instant, everything went blank. The girl spent several minutes sitting on her bed in a stupor, sucking rhythmically on her pacifier as the last remnants of her intelligence were sapped away into the game. When it was done, she collapsed onto the bed in a heap, toppling over her tall can of iced tea in the process. Two puddles immediately formed - one around the can, that had spilled onto the carpet below, and the other around the bottom of Steffie’s short blue dress, as her new lack of potty control made itself readily apparent to her viewers. 

She would keep playing after that - sort of. Her daddy worked through the levels for her, while Steffie just sat and watched, oohing and aahing at the flashing colors. By then, she was nothing more than an oversized infant - she had forgotten how to read, how to count, how to walk and how to talk. She would often giggle as she mindlessly filled her diapers on stream, bouncing and squishing on the bed while her daddy finished each new level. 

But her character? Her character was unstoppable.

****

Image Credit: LittleforBig (IG)

Model: Mercurial Mouse

This picture has been modified from its original version

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Upstream - Remastered - Pt. I

Reposting one of my favorites here, featuring the work of Bubblybuns, who you can find on JFF. Lots of magical regression, omo, wet and messy accidents, and diapers ahead!

Seems like this chapter specifically got throttled, so gonna try sans pics. All characters are over 18. All readers should be as well! ****

Chapter One: Troublemaker

It was the first day of senior year, and Vanessa was busy staring at herself in her bedroom mirror, struggling not to feel a certain sense of awe. 

The girl had nothing to compensate for - she was a fine student and a gifted athlete from a relatively stable home. Had it not been for her looks, she would have had no trouble pursuing an honest path. But that wasn’t something she had to worry about. 

Instead, she spent her free time gossiping, plotting, and taking selfies, intoxicated by the rush that popularity gave her. There was just something about seeing boys lose themselves at the sight of her, about girls bending over backwards for the privilege of being called her friend. And this year, now that she was eighteen and on top of the high school hierarchy, she would settle for no less than the title of queen. But of course, she knew she wouldn’t reach such heights from the comfort of her bed, so she fixed her hair and went on her way. 

Minutes later, she was at the grand double doors of her school’s entrance, arriving perfectly in sync with her two closest partners in crime. On her right came tall, red-headed Cassie, who always had the best gossip to tell. On her left came buxom Amber, the obligatory blonde of their clique, who prided herself as Vanessa’s enforcer. Marching in lock-step, they made their way in, and started down the hallway towards their lockers. 

“Senior year,” Amber said, half-celebrating, “we gonna run this place, V?”

“You know it,” Vanessa replied, without turning her head, “who’s gonna try and stop us?”

“Well, you know Heather,” Cassie chimed in, “who tried to spread those rumors about you last year?” 

“That bitch?” Vanessa was unamused. “Yeah, what’s she up to now?” 

“Well, word is she got together with Jack Kilmer over the summer.”

“What? How’d that happen?” Amber asked, shocked, while casually shoving a wayward freshman out of their path and onto the floor. 

“Who knows?” Cassie shrugged, “probably knew each other through family. But… I thought it might be a good opportunity to send a message.”

Vanessa was already laughing. “Oooh, love it. Jack’s been drooling over me since middle school. He’s on the swim team, too, so I know where to find him - thinking I’ll go pay him a visit Tuesday. Heather’s in band, right?” 

“Yep,” Cassie confirmed, “I think she plays- “

“Excuse me!?” Vanessa’s smile vanished instantly as the clique stopped at once in the hallway. Seated in front of them, in front of their lockers, was a small, slender girl they had never seen before, with a black dress, black headphones, and black hair tied in a long ponytail, reading a thick-looking hardcover book to herself. 

“Well, it looks like someone doesn’t know the rules around here,” Amber began, forcing the girl up by her collar into a standing position. 

“Do we have… do we have a new face I see?” Vanessa asked with her head tilted and brow furrowed, licking her teeth as she scanned the girl up and down. 

“Oh yes we do,” Cassie chimed in glibly, “a transfer, I believe, from… Salem High? Senior, but looks like not a very smart one, huh?”

“Oh, a new troublemaker here.” Vanessa crept closer to the new girl’s, holding a piercing stare until their faces almost touched. “What, did you get kicked out or something?”

The girl in black said nothing, turning away from Vanessa’s gaze and beginning to pack her book away into her backpack. 

“Hey!” Amber shoved the girl to the ground away from the clique’s lockers, causing her to spill her book and the contents of her open bag. “You show some respect to the queen!”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Cassie remarked, “I think there might be something wrong with this one. What do you think, V?”  

“Ooooh, I think I might know what the problem is,” Vanessa answered quickly, a cruel grin building on her face, “I think this one might not know how ta talk. ‘Cause I think this one might be a widdle baby.

“Is dat twoo, widdle baby?” Vanessa moved again towards the girl as she raised the volume on her impression, while a crowd of students began to gather and laugh. “Is you too dumb-dumb to know how to make talkies? Well, I’m sowwee, widdle baby, but we don’t wike widdle babies awound heah.

“So get the fuck out.” Vanessa’s tone shifted abruptly, and she kicked the girl’s book down the hallway. 

With that, Vanessa, Cassie, and Amber turned and moved in perfect harmony back towards their lockers, leaving the girl in black scrambling to collect her things, muttering what the clique could only assume were curses under her breath. 

That day, Vanessa felt no remorse, no regret, and no repercussions. She and her friends had delivered a loud and clear message to their school, and their fellow students made sure to cast them wide berths in the halls. It was an auspicious start to an ambitious year, and it placed the girls firmly atop the food chain, where they belonged. 

Meanwhile, a new batch of classes brought little in the way of surprise. Vanessa made her way comfortably through dull lectures and simple quizzes, settling quickly into a steady rhythm of doing just enough work to get the grades that colleges would want to see. The first weekend of the year passed by quickly and uneventfully, and soon enough Tuesday arrived, allowing Vanessa to focus on the things she actually cared about. 

Her plan proved to be perfect. Like clockwork, Jack finished his swim practice at 4:30, while his summer fling was off in her own club. Vanessa, who had been waiting near the gym entrance, met him with a flirty wink and a soft ‘hey’, and the boy did nothing to shy away. 

“Hey,” he said back with an overeager smile, “‘sup?”

 “Oh, I don’t know,” the girl murmured, holding a finger on her bottom lip as she fluttered her eyelids. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, I was just, uh, at swim practice, y’know. But I’m pretty free now.”

“Oh. Well then,” Vanessa said softly, walking slowly closer to her target, “I was thinking we could maybe hang out, then?”

Jack let out a dopey laugh as he struggled to maintain his composure. “Uhhh… what would you wanna do?”

“Well,” Vanessa placed a finger on the boy’s chest, “maybe… I WANNA PLAY WIF YOU!”

Vanessa’s hand shot up to cover her mouth as her face turned bright red. Where did that come from?

Jack, in turn, took several steps back, his dumb-jock eagerness turning to confusion and fear. “Uhhhhh... what?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the girl corrected herself quickly, “I was ummm… just, uh, making a joke. Yeah, sorry. Ummm, where were we?”

“Oh, ummm, you were just, you were just, uh-”

“HEE DA WAWA” 

Again, shock came over Vanessa as she blurted noises without any conscious thought. She stepped back away and tried to collect herself, but instead the noise simply came again.

“HEE DA WAWA”

Grasping her hands firmly over her mouth, the blushing girl saw no option other than to abort the mission and run. And run she did, all the way onto a bus and home. 

When she finally did arrive back, Vanessa scoured Instagram to make sense of any potential fallout from the day. No one, it seemed, had gossiped about what happened, and no one seemed to have overheard. Jack, fortunately, was too awkward when it came to such things to be blabbering about it, and Vanessa saw his shock and confusion as a sign that he wouldn’t want to be bringing it up. So the girl breathed a sigh of relief and went about her evening, trying her best to shake off the day’s events. 

Still, the girl lost sleep thinking about it. Why had she suddenly blurted out? What did she even say? 

There were no answers to be found, of course, and Vanessa came to school tired on Wednesday, struggling to maintain focus through her classes. Thursday was no better, and it was at her desk in homeroom that the girl finally gave in to the strain and dozed off. 

Without warning, the girl found herself on a boat - a small rowboat, it seemed, moving in the middle of what looked to be a wide river, with bright blue skies all around. 

Vanessa, with a paddle in her hand and nothing else to do, began to row, but the boat moved very slowly forward. And then, though she kept rowing, the boat ceased to move altogether. Finally, though at this point the girl was swinging her oar madly, the boat began to move unnaturally backwards, against the current, while an ethereal voice filled the air:

“Heed the waters

Trickle and flow

The tide is turning

Upstream you go.”  

Try as she might, the girl could not keep the boat from being pushed back by what felt like nothing more than a soft breeze. The small, wooden thing crashed violently against the river’s flow, and water began splashing in. Vanessa stood up in a feeble attempt to avoid it, but could only do so for so long. Soon, a gush found her, making its way to the girl’s shorts, striking her with a sensation that was wet, warm, and very real. 

Vanessa woke up with a soft gasp. The feeling she had in her dream had followed her into reality, and she realized quickly that she was wet. Quite wet, in fact - the puddle that had formed on her chair covered the whole back of her skirt, and was dripping from every corner onto the carpet beneath.  

The girl quickly looked around. She saw that there was still time in the homeroom period, and that a number of other students had taken the opportunity to nap through it. There was still a chance, she thought, to avoid humiliation, and she went for it. 

Vanessa tossed a magazine from her bag over the stain on her seat and bolted out the door, doing her best to keep her backside covered. Frantically, she ran to her locker and grabbed a spare set of clothes - a precaution against inadvertent matching with her friends - and scrambled over to the bathroom to change. With moments remaining before the period’s end, she finished putting on her dry clothes and breathed an exhausted sigh of relief. Disaster had been averted.

As she tried to collect herself in front of the bathroom mirror, Vanessa finally took a moment to try and process what had happened. Never in her life had she had an accident quite like that - why now? Was it somehow connected to her bizarre slip outside the gym? Was there someone slipping her drugs? Was she sick? Was she simply stressed?

Yet again, the girl came up short of making any sense of her situation, concluding only that she needed to remain vigilant, and, more importantly, she needed to remain awake. With that in mind, she rinsed her face in cold water and went about her day as best she could. 

That night, Vanessa found herself once again on the river, struggling to stay with the current. This time, she found herself in a storm, facing down dark clouds and lightning as far as she could see, while the same ethereal voice rang out through the gale:

“Heed the waters

Trickle and flow

The tide is turning

Upstream you go.”  

Winds and waves crashed down upon the girl, wrecking her boat and soaking her lower body. Yet again, she awoke with a start, and yet again she woke up wet.

It was 4:00 a.m. The girl was weary, but she managed to get her sheets into the wash without creating too much of a stir. When she was done, she went back to bed, able, mercifully, to sleep without interruption. 

But the dream repeated itself the next night, and again the next. Ever alert, Vanessa managed her way through the daytime - though a few late-week quizzes proved a struggle for the tired girl - but her repeated bedtime troubles wearied her. When the weekend came, Vanessa went to bed hoping that she might be able to finally sleep through the night. And she did. 

Unfortunately, she still woke up wet. This time, the feeling was cold and clammy. This time, it seemed that Vanessa had slept through her Saturday alarm, well into the late morning. And this time, worst of all, the girl knew she wouldn’t be able to keep the accident a secret, as she woke to the sight of her mother standing cross-armed in front of her. 

“Sweetie, have you been having some troubles lately?”

The tone was saccharine and condescending, completely unlike the way Vanessa was used to hearing her mother talk. But so many things were baffling the girl at this moment that she simply couldn’t process it. 

“I think maybe someone needs to be wearing a little protection, hmmm?”

“Ew, ew, gross, mom, no.” Vanessa was shocked at the question, but too groggy to express her emotion. 

“Are we sure? Because it looks like -”

“No, no, mom, please, I don’t know what’s been happening, but really, I don’t need anything.” Vanessa waved her mother away. The girl wasn’t sure if she believed her own words, but she was absolutely certain that she wanted to be done with the conversation. 

Thankfully, her mother dropped the subject, and Vanessa slowly changed and loaded laundry before heading to the family dining table for a wordless breakfast. 

“Excited about your college visit, honey?” Her mother asked, finally breaking the silence. 

“Oh, right.” Vanessa had completely forgotten about the planned visit. Somehow, she had been too preoccupied to think much about it. “Uh, I guess?”

It was Vanessa’s dream school, with a lush campus and a robust Greek life, and she was reminded of that as she started touring the grounds. Still, the girl found it difficult to muster enthusiasm, her mind drawn constantly to the bizarre events that colored her first few weeks of the semester. 

And then, a familiar, eerie voice began to play in Vanessa’s mind. 

Heed the waters… 

A chill ran down the girl’s spine and her eyes bulged wide. Without a second thought, she bolted from the tour group and towards the main buildings, while a pressure inside her built at an unnatural rate. 

Vanessa was scrambling, but she could already feel a trickle come out as she made her first few strides. Desperately, she tried to hold her muscles together as she honed in on her destination, but it seemed crushingly far away, and time seemed to be running out fast.

By the time she reached the center of the campus green, she could hold back no longer. The flow was unstoppable, pouring through the girl’s powder-blue jeans and onto the grass below. 

Defeated, Vanesssa stopped in her tracks and clasped her knees, panting, while tears began to mix with the sweat running down her cheeks. Around her, she could see college students pointing and whispering, though she recoiled to hide her face when a group of drunken frat boys started laughing and hollering. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it” would be Vanessa’s refrain on the car ride home, as she sat sulking in her sopping wet jeans, staring cross-armed out the passenger window. Her mother carried on with her uncharacteristic, patronizing sweet-talk, but it was the least of the girl’s worries now.

When she arrived home, Vanessa made her way upstairs to survey the damage. The girl sighed. As much as she hated to acknowledge it, as much as she hated to admit it, the thought crept in that her mother might be right:

If Vanessa was going to make it through the semester, she might need a little protection.

READ ON

[omnomnomdomcaps]

It's Spooky Day! Time to reblog some Spooky Day favorites

[diaperedlilgirl]

Crinkles and crochet 🤭

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Did I mention my little one is super duper talented? She's always picking up new skills - one of these days she might even learn how to use the potty!

(But I wouldn't hold your breath)

[diaperedlilgirl]

My message box is open 🙈 for the first time in years…

Lately I’ve been longing for friends, either female little friends or couple friends for Daddy & I. Please note that Daddy & I are monogamous and we are not looking for any other partners. We hope to find friends that we have things in common other than kink.

Things I enjoy in no particular order:

Animals, hikes, coffee, concerts, good food, baking, reading (romance, webtoon, non fiction occasionally), coloring, fashion, traveling, assortment of arts and crafts, walks in nature, scented candles, rainy days and cozy games.

If any of the above sounds like things you’d enjoy and you’d like to be friends, feel free to drop me a message. Do note that I do not respond to messages that just say hi/hello or any forms of it nor would I respond if your tumblr is empty/full of stolen images.

[diaperedlilgirl]

Closing my inbox because I keep getting messages from men… I just want girlie friends 😭😭😭 Guys if you wanna chat, my daddy @omnomnomdomcaps is happy to do so but I really just want soft girlie energy in my life rn to talk about silly things. If you’re a girlie and you wanna chat please send me an ask. 🥲

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Signal boosting once again - when someone posts looking for friends / partners / whatever it may be, please read what they write!!

I am more than happy to connect with anyone, so feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions or anything you want to talk about, kink or not.

My lovely wifey, on the other hand, reserves the right to seek out the kind of energy she wants to add to her life. Please respect that.

[omnomnomdom]

The #1 Ingredient in a Strong DD/LG Relationship

I’ve been around AB/DL and DD/LG for a long time (probably longer than some Tumblr users have been alive, which is concerning). I’ve seen a lot of relationships tried and failed. I’ve seen a few succeed. And the most important factor I’ve seen, time and time again, in determining if the dynamic works between two people, isn’t looks or money or experience or mad poetry skillz (much to my chagrin). It’s trust. Because DD/LG, when it comes down to it, is really just a trust fall. It’s a little, wanting so dearly to let go of all the awful stresses in life, needing to know that someone will be there to catch her when she does. It’s a big, wanting so badly to feel in control in a chaotic world, needing to know he can make that catch and be the big, strong, caring person he aspires to be.

That’s why establishing trust is so essential. It’s why violating trust is so destructive and so dangerous. 

Take your time. Grow together. Learn about each other before plunging in. Learn to be intimate with your feelings, before you try being intimate intimate. The bond that you form, the trust that you establish, will go a long way.

[omnomnomdom]

Digging through my archives and found this from my early days here. Figured it was worth a repost. Trust is important, people!

[omnomnomdomcaps]

An oldie but a goodie.

[diaperedlilgirl]

My message box is open 🙈 for the first time in years…

Lately I’ve been lonely for friends, either female little friends or couple friends for Daddy & I. Please note that Daddy & I are monogamous and we are not looking for any other partners. We hope to find friends that we have things in common other than kink.

Things I enjoy in no particular order:

Animals, hikes, coffee, concerts, good food, baking, reading (romance, webtoon, non fiction occasionally), coloring, fashion, traveling, assortment of arts and crafts, walks in nature, scented candles, rainy days and cozy games.

If any of the above sounds like things you’d enjoy and you’d like to be friends, feel free to drop me a message. Do note that I do not respond to messages that just say hi/hello or any forms of it nor would I respond if your tumblr is empty/full of stolen images.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Echoing this. My message box and DMs are always open, and it's always a joy meeting cool awesome people who happen to be kinky.

If you're reading this, that includes you!

[diaperedlilgirl]

The school uniform attempting to cover up your diaper is such a vibe. By any chance will you ever bring back the uniform for another photoshoot?

Sure! They seem quite well loved. I’ve been meaning to do another one with Daddy perhaps when we are together in a couple months. I’ve both the plaid skirt and pinafore uniform. Feel free to send suggestions/ideas.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Signal boosting this because I would LOVE to hear some ideas. 🌚

[diaperedlilgirl]

Soggy waddling baby 🐣

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Adorable cute baby (who also happens to be soggy and waddling)

[diaperedlilgirl]

I love that you love seals so much. It’s nice to have an ABDL friend who shares my love of marine animals.

Aww. They are such underrated animals! I’m glad they been gaining in popularity though 🦭

[omnomnomdomcaps]

PSA: Seals are the BEST.

[diaperedlilgirl]

Daddy let me wear pull-ups after my wet diapie this morning, but I think I might not be ready for them.

Do you think he’ll be able to tell they’re messy?

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Spoiler alert: I was.

[diaperedlilgirl]

I’m ready for school Daddy!

Turn around to let you see?

Yes I’m wearing my diapers you don’t have to check me. See?

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Spoiler alert: she's not ready for school.

[diaperedlilgirl]

Uh oh, the back of my diapy feels lumpy. Daddyyy I think I went poo poo.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

What a very smart little one, being able to tell she went poo-poo!

Over time, she'll learn she doesn't need to be able to tell. She'll know she's messy when Daddy checks her.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Are you going to Capcon 26?

We don't plan to. Schedule doesn't line up, too many other places to be and things to do. We went in '22 and '23, and it was amazing, but right now we're more interested in exploring smaller meet-ups and connecting with friends in the community.

Would love to know how people like it, though, and happy to answer any questions for first-timers or the CAP-curious. :)

[girlcollared-deactivated2017020]

I did take a photo from the other day. Wet and a little messy.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

More a messy little than a little messy, but yes.