PeculiarChangeling

Chapter 23 “Let me up!” Daniel demanded. Or, at any rate, he intended to come off as a demand. When the words left his lips, they sounded more like a pleading whimper, and the two girls on the opposing coven only laughed. It was hard to be intimidating when he lay supine on the floor in a distinctly foul diaper. They didn’t know he’d been cursed–they just knew he was pathetic. “Oh, the scrimmage match isn’t over,” the taller of the two girls said. “What, you want me to cheat for you? As if.” “But–” Daniel began, searching for a way to convince them. “We surrender.” “Yeah, doesn’t work like that.” The other girl walked over him, hopping to cross over his prone body. Daniel couldn’t just let them leave him like this. “Wait, hold on, I–” His words were interrupted by a red glob of mana that splattered over his face and into his open mouth, hardening instantly, pinning down his tongue and gagging him with exceptional thoroughness. He could still breathe–the mana was enchanted to allow airflow in any circumstances–but that was the only mercy in the situation. “Can’t have you calling out for help,” the shorter of the two girls said. “Have fun, diaper boy, we’ve got a game to win.” She and her teammate moved past, lining up in a passage where they silently watched for Daniel’s coven. As they camped out, Daniel heard giggles erupting throughout the maze–laughter in response to a psychically delivered message. Already the rumors were spreading like wildfire, and there was nothing he could do except squirm on the ground, gagged and immobile, his loaded diaper totally exposed. He’d extended the hemline of his skirt to try and avoid just such a situation, but an extended hemline didn’t do much when the fabric was flipped up and pinned in place by mana, ensuring he couldn’t conceal anything between his legs. Face burning, he looked over at Cassie, pinned to the wall and muted by her own glob of mana. She stared down at him with a look of humiliating pity, exuding sympathy for Daniel’s pathetic situation. He wanted to explain–it was a curse, he didn’t need diapers, it was just something Rachel had done. With the mana gagging his throat, he could only shake his head and wait. (Rachel said I couldn’t accept help,) Daniel reminded himself. That alone didn’t rule out simply explaining the situation, but explaining still posed a risk. The girls didn’t always respect his opinions–it was possible that if he told them not to help, one of them would try to help anyway and risk triggering whatever failsafe Rachel had built into the curse. Or, even worse, they could tell the faculty, who might deliberately fail to countercurse him as a way to make him drop out. As he pondered and whimpered, the witches on the other team advanced, leaving him alone with Cassie. Since the rest of the match had become a four on six, it didn’t take long for things to turn. Occasionally cries or yelps burst up from within the hex maze, and after only a couple minutes of waiting, the match ended, signalled by the sudden dissolution of the mana clinging to Daniel’s body. It gushed into a free liquid, staining his clothes and soaking further into his diaper as though a half dozen water balloons had suddenly popped over him. As soon as he could get free, he shoved his skirt down and scrambled up to his feet. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Cassie began to say, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. Unable to find words, Daniel first jerked away, then spun on his heels and ran out of the arena as fast as his waddling legs would take him. He didn’t have a plan, he just had to get away. There was absolutely nothing he nor anyone else could say that would make things better, and he didn’t want to sit through the mortifying prospect of trying. He ran past the confused faces of his other coven mates, avoiding eye contact, then ran between the other hexes in the gym, pointed hat tugged down in a feeble attempt to hide his face as he fled. He couldn’t stick around and let the rumors spread, he had to get away. Shoes squeaking and skidding loudly on the gym floor, he turned around the final hex of scrimmaging witches and fled into the academy halls. Classes weren’t out yet, which provided him a tiny bit of relief as he ran back towards the prefect dorms, through ostentatious marble halls and more mundane passages alike. He could get back to his room, change, and put this all behind him. He’d just… (Just what?) His pace slowed in a corridor near the great hall as he finally considered his circumstances. Rachel had cursed him to lose his potty training. Not just to lose his potty training–she’d seemingly cursed him so that he’d use his diapers only at the most humiliating moment possible. She’d set him up to have an accident not just in front of his coven, but in front of another group of girls as well. What could he do about that? This wouldn’t be a one-off accident, Daniel felt certain of that. It would keep happening. He was going to keep having accidents. Public accidents. Rachel had seen to that. (Can I just hide it somehow?) (Or–) A bell rang, and Daniel realized he’d come to a total standstill in the hall. It wasn’t early enough for gym to be out, but some staggered classes released earlier, and he was about to be in the most flooded part of the school as those with an early dinner period filtered into the dining hall. He had no more time to stand around. Daniel turned, avoiding the more obvious route back to the dorms and instead ducking down the side hall shortcut he’d learned on his first day. (Girls are going to be getting back to the prefect dorms, too,) he reminded himself. That might even include Rachel, and the last thing he wanted was to run into her and let her find out firsthand that her curse had kicked in. He’d be better off laying low, and since he was already nearby… Daniel ducked into the abandoned, haunted classroom, clicking the door shut behind him. “This is my eighth time visiting you. I need to hide for a bit,” he said aloud. “If anyone comes walking down this hallway, can you tell me?” Instead of answering his question, Ismella giggled, her amusement ringing in his ears shamefully. “I thought you didn’t need your diapers,” she said. “Hi, Daniel.” That teasing comment was almost enough for him to leave, but he shook his head instead. “No, I–remember me telling you about Rachel?” “Yeah,” Ismella said, muffling a snicker. “Did she scare you really bad?” “No, she cursed me, and I can’t fix it.” “Oh.” Ismella had no body, at least not one that Daniel could see. However, she had a knack for conveying tone with just her voice, and she seemed to suddenly regret her quips. “That blows, I’m really sorry.” “Yeah. She wants me to quit the school, she hasn’t been subtle about it, but now she’s pushing really hard.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, she might even have me here, I can’t…just deal with this.” “Do you know what kind of curse it is?” “It was in a potion,” he explained, looking down at his shoes as he leaned against the door. “And it makes me…use my diapers. She said if I tried to get someone besides me to dispel the curse, it would become permanent.” “Ew, that double blows. Want me to take a look?” “No, if someone tries to fix it, it’ll be permanent,” Daniel repeated. “Yeah, I heard you, don’t bug out on me. I’ll just look. I won’t even be using a spell, I can just kinda…peek at your aura and see what’s up.” Daniel frowned, but stood up straight and shrugged. “Fine, I guess.” He felt a cold pressure at the base of his neck, then ice ran through his whole body and he wobbled, as though he’d laid on himself the wrong way and his whole body fell asleep. Helpless to stop himself, Daniel swayed and fell back, arms pinwheeling without him trying to. (What’s–why can’t I–) he thought as he began to totter, even with the support of a door behind him. He couldn’t move, his body was out of his control, he– “Crap, sorry, sorry!” Control rushed back into Daniel’s body and the coldness fled, leaving him able to move again. His hand seized the doorframe and he held himself up, only barely staving off the inevitable fall. “What did you do?” “Um…” Ismella fell quiet, and Daniel panted for breath, impatient for her to explain. “Ismella, what the hell was that?” “I…may have possessed you. A little bit. It was an accident!” Eyes widening in concern, Daniel demanded, “You what?” “I’m a ghost!” Ismella squeaked. “I’m sorry–it’s like, an aura thing. I didn’t know I’d do that, I’ve never been inside someone before!” Daniel took a deep breath. “Well–warn me next time!” “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I think so.” Doubtful but still feeling a bit of hope, he asked, “Did you figure anything out?” “Not really, I didn’t have enough time to look,” she admitted. “I…wasn’t used to being in a body, it was kind of overwhelming for me too.” “Damn.” “We could…try again?” Daniel frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “Huh?” “No, you’re right, it’s a stupid idea.” “No, I mean–would that help?” Daniel asked. “I’m just…I didn’t know what to expect.” “I dunno if it would help a ton, but it couldn’t hurt, could it?” Heart rate lowering from the brief panic, Daniel said, “I really don’t know about ghost possessions.” “I just kind of, borrow your body, I think?” Ismella explained. “You can kick me out whenever, it’s not very hard.” “Isn’t it? What’s the point of exorcists if it’s difficult?” “Look, all the books about ghosts are in the library, I dunno. You want to read about how we work, go do that, I just know the stuff I know.” Daniel shrugged. “Fine, okay. I’m just going to sit down first.” He crossed to the desk at the front of the room, though he hesitated for a moment before actually taking a seat. Ismella noticed the hesitation. “Something wrong?” “Just…” Daniel flushed and shook his head, not wanting to spell it out. He pulled out the chair and sat down, cringing as his weight sank into the mushy seat of his diaper. “No joyrides, you’re just looking, right?” “Cross my heart,” Ismella assured him. “Okay, do it.” The cold washed over him again, a rush of non-control pouring down his veins, and he sat paralyzed in the chair as Ismella entered him. He wobbled in the seat for a moment, hands outstretched, looking at himself. His fingers clenched and unclenched, he looked down, he took a breath. A hand raised up to his nose, and he spoke with a voice that sounded like a hybrid between his own and Ismella’s–his vocal chords, her intonation, as though he were doing an impression of her. “Oh, wow.” He pinched his own nose and said, “Sorry, I…your senses are stronger than mine. I didn’t realize you smelled this bad.” Initially, Daniel tried to open his mouth to reply, but his body didn’t obey so he just thought his answer, as though communing with his coven. (Yeah, yeah, I know. Please just take a look and get this over with?) “Sorry, sorry,” he told himself. “Wow, it’s…I forgot what things feel like.” (Aura, please, this is really disconcerting.) “Working on it!” He sat there for a moment, taking shallow breaths through a pinched nose and occasionally making a ‘hmm’ sound deep in his throat. “Huh…okay. I think I’ve got good news, this should go away on its own!” Daniel felt an odd shift as he tried to raise his eyebrows in surprise but found that, of course, he couldn’t physically emote. (Is this how she feels all the time? If she doesn’t have a body…) “Yeah, pretty much.” (I didn’t mean to ask that, sorry.) “No it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” (But, anyway, you said it’ll go away on its own. How long will it take?) “I think…two weeks?” Not a permanent curse, just a couple weeks. He wanted to sigh in relief, but he continued taking shallow breaths instead. “Hmm…” (That sounded like a bad ‘Hmm’.) He bit his own lip, and Ismella said, “Well, it looks like it’s got a sort of self-charging mechanism. Whenever you use magic, it restores itself.” (Oh.) (Oh, that bitch.) “Yeah, that’s mean.” It wasn’t hard to see the intent behind the curse: If Daniel went for two weeks without casting any spells, he’d flunk out of at least a couple classes. He couldn’t not use magic, but now, any magic he would use would reinforce the curse laid upon him. (Does it…make me…) “I think it just takes away your control? There’s no transmutation or conjuration, she isn’t gonna make you poop yourself if you don’t already need to poop, you just…can’t not poop, I guess?” Wringing his hands together, she asked, “I guess you want your body back?” (Yeah, but–oh, can I try and kick you out? Will that hurt you?) “I don’t think so.” (Cool, I just want to try to see how it works.) Focusing his thoughts, he tried to clear his mind, ejecting the other consciousness out of his thoughts. The cold rushed away and he sat back in the chair under his own power. “God that feels weird. Are you okay?” “Yeah–kinda numb, but that’s normal.” “I didn’t ever think about, like, not being able to move my body for emphasis.” He took a deep breath, then raised his hand back up to his nose, struck with the reinforced strength of his senses. Like stepping out into a winter night then returning inside to find the warmth extra warm, the whiff he got of his own diaper felt acutely powerful now that he was in the driver’s seat of his body again. “So…can you just not do spells for two weeks?” He shook his head, noting how novel it felt to have control again. “Only if I want to get expelled.” “Well…what about just counterspelling it yourself?” “I wish I knew how.” “Then…when’s your next two week break?” Daniel thought about it. The only gap in classes that long would be in December, when he went home for the solstice holidays. “Three months away.” “That’s not so bad.” “Three months of incontinence,” he repeated. “That’s pretty fucking bad.” “Is it?” “Yeah. I’m not going to be able to hide it, I’m not going to be able to stop people from talking about it.” Daniel put his head in his hands, leaning his elbows forward onto the desk. “Um…don’t they already know?” He shut his eyes and sighed. She wasn’t wrong, even if he didn’t like admitting that detail to himself. “Okay, yeah, probably. And if they don’t yet, they will soon, I can’t stop those rumors.” “So can it really get any worse? I feel like it’s kind of a thing of once you poop your pants in front of everyone twice, you’re the pants pooper, and at that point you’re not really going to clear that reputation, even if you never did it again for the rest of your life.” Daniel shook his head slowly from side to side. “Three months.” “Three months and two weeks, really. And you need to be super careful not to do any magic during those two weeks, otherwise you’d start the clock over and have to wait until summer break.” He nodded to himself a couple times. “Rachel wants to force me out? Screw her. I can put up with this.” Spite wasn’t the healthiest motivator, but it’s what he had. “Let her see I don’t care.” “Yeah! Or–maybe still care a little bit, you don’t want people to think you like using your diapers.” Standing, Daniel rolled his eyes. “Okay, no shit, but I mean that the curse won’t bother me.” “Do you have to go?” Ismella asked, voice softening slightly. He checked the clock on the wall. “Anyone trying to get back to their room is probably back by now, I don’t need to worry about running into Rachel in the hall, and I need to…change.” “Sure, okay.” “I’ll come back soon, though. I really appreciate the help,” he promised. “Not just the magic, either–the pep talk was nice too.” “Yeah!” Ismella brightened again, cheer re-entering her tone. “Happy to pep!” “Is the hallway clear?” “You should be good, at least as far as I can see.” “Awesome. See you later, Ismella.” “See you later, Daniel.” ... 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Chapter 9: A Delicate Balance Melody shifted from foot to foot as the full heat of five surprised stares turned to face her. She’d just asked to borrow a diaper and, naturally, that raised some questions. Grace was a good friend. The best friend, even. She cut through the anticipation and defused it in an instant. “For your book, right?” “Yeah.” Melody relaxed and flashed a smirk. “I need something to threaten Skip with. We won’t use it, but I’m gonna do the whole, ‘oooh, if you break during the scene I’ll have to punish you’ routine and we figured this would be a good way to do that.” “Gimme just a sec, I’ll go grab one,” Pearce announced, moving Grace gently to the side so he could get up. Standing, he walked past Melody to get to the stairs. It was a subtle reminder that even if the diapers were worn by Grace, Pearce was the one who actually put them on her, and Grace’s cheeks turned pink as he left, though the blush was hard to notice as she spread herself across the couch, stretching her arms and legs to fully lie down. “So how’s this book work, exactly?” the guy on the couch next to Brains asked. Melody very rarely concerned herself with remembering the names of partners, though she’d seen this guy enough that she felt she should remember him. “Is it autobiographical?” (Carter? I think it was Carter.) “We don’t want to be fake experts,” Melody explained. “So we’re acting out scenes–nothing too graphic, but you wouldn’t write a boy scout manual without tying a few knots.” “Or a bondage manual,” Carter replied, picking up the bait. Melody grinned–she liked this guy, well enough. If Brains wasn’t dating him, he might even be worth a quick lay. “Either way, you want to be prepared.” Pearce returned down the stairs and passed a pink-purple bunny print diaper to Melody, turning it over in his hands. “You know how to put one of these on someone?” “We’re not actually going to use it,” Melody repeated. “I can probably give it back later.” “Okay, cool.” He walked back to Grace and gestured for her to move. She sat up, and he took his place at the end of the couch, though she only kept her head up for just long enough that he could get in place before she laid back down and put her head in his lap. Once nestled in place, she took his arm, moving it like a ouija board ring over to her head. Pearce chuckled. “You know, if you want me to pet your hair, you can just ask.” Grace nodded and smiled precociously. “Headpats, please.” He complied, eliciting a gentle purr from his paramore. “You know this isn’t going to delay bedtime.” “Yeah, but…mmmm…” Grace whispered. “Headpats.” “You two are so sweet, it’s gross.” Melody rolled her eyes and turned, sauntering back up the stairs. Skip was right where she’d left them–which made sense, since they’d have to undo quite a few knots in order to go anywhere else. “Here it is.” Melody held up the diaper, squeezing it to make the plastic backing crinkle. “If you disobey, you have to wear a diaper.” … Skip blinked, gaze locked on the thick bunny-print garment in Melody’s hand, processing what’d happened in the two minutes they’d been waiting. “You got that from Grace?” “Well I didn’t have one in my closet” Melody pointed out. “Wait, is it too scary?” “What? No.” Skip shook their head. “Just–it’s weird you got everyone else involved.” “I didn’t get them involved, I just borrowed a diaper.” Melody dismissed the subject, moving forward without further room for questioning. “Besides–it’s just for the scene, for a threat. You won’t need to wear it.” “Sure, whatever.” Skip instinctively tried to sit up, though the ropes on their legs and waist made that difficult, especially without letting go of the headboard, so they just wriggled instead. “So–I do good, you buy me dinner. I do bad, I have to wear a diaper. Where’s dinner?” “You pick, just don’t break the bank,” Melody replied. “Is that all fair to you?” “Well, like you said–it’s just a fake threat. I’ll take free dinner anytime.” Skip wasn’t above exploiting the situation, but they didn’t want to pretend they were doing anything else. “At least make sure to save your receipt, this’ll be a work dinner.” “You’re such a romantic. You want to get this plotted out?” “That depends.” Skip glanced up at their hands, still holding onto the headboard. “Can I let go now?” Melody snorted. “I’m half tempted to make you stay there while we plan the scene.” Okay, screw this. Skip released the headboard and sat up, ensuring Melody could see their obvious eyeroll. “This was a claustrophobia test, and we already determined bondage won’t make me claustrophobic. Help me with the ropes?” Sitting on the side of the bed, Melody began undoing knots, working to release their legs. “So, here’s what I was thinking…” … I have the hardpoint mounted in my ceiling. I think it’s time to use it. Skip stood to the side, watching with a bemused smirk as Melody stood on tip-toe and strained to feed the rope through the eye of an O-bolt in the ceiling, pushing it forward like an enormous thread through a needle. “Do you want help with that? I could reach it more easily than you.” Melody shook her head. “I do this. You just obey.” You’ll have to be patient, and perfectly obedient, moving as I tell you. “Arm.” Melody extended an expectant hand, and Skip moved to comply with the demand, lifting their right arm for her to take. Slowly and precisely, Melody wound the rope around their wrist, pulling Skip’s sleeve up to their elbow so that the snug cord pulled against their skin. One loop, then two to make a cuff, before braiding the rope down Skip’s forearm until it went almost to their elbow. The end of the rope ran up, through the hardpoint, and then dangled slack to the floor. “Keep your arm raised,” Melody instructed, moving to take Skip’s other arm and match the knots. “That’s one. How are you feeling?” Skip dodged a sincere answer by pointing out a few basic facts. “You said this would take a while, I’m not rushing.” Aren’t you going to be tying me up? I won’t be able to move–what’s the point of ‘patient obedience’? Have you ever tried to tie someone up while they struggle? You can’t get pretty knots. Okay, but once I’m all trussed? It’s a simulation of helplessness. It’s not real. You can struggle when I tell you, but this isn’t an escape scene, and if you really want to get out, you’re going to be able to. Skip’s wrists and ankles were all bound, ropes like marionette string tying them to the ceiling. To finish it off, Melody wound a rope around their waist, not secured to anything except itself. Skip knew she was tying a mount point in the back, a place to loop the other four ropes through, but when they tried to look over their shoulder to watch, Melody cleared her throat and shook her head. “Don’t squirm.” “I’m not squirming, I’m trying to see.” Melody stopped what she was doing and looked at Skip with a cocked eyebrow. “Are you going to do as I say, or are you going to argue? I’m sure Grace won’t complain if she doesn’t get her diaper back.” “That’s–” Skip exhaled through puffed lips and looked straight ahead. “Fine.” “There you go.” Finishing her knot, Melody stood back in satisfaction. “I think you’re ready.” Once I have you tied up, I’ll have you move, and once you’re in the pose I want, I’ll secure it in place. And then what? And then you’ll wait until I want to pose you differently. “Raise your right leg,” Melody instructed, guiding their body with her hands to help move Skip where she wanted them to go. Skip balanced on one foot, their knee bent and their leg raised until their foot was parallel to their thigh. It took effort to stay upright, though the tug of the rope provided some extra support to their stance–they had to concentrate, but didn’t feel like they were on the brink of toppling. “Give me your hand,” Melody continued, pulling their right hand down so that their wrist and ankle were touching. In a slightly out-of-character moment, she commented, “Does this feel like it’s stretching you too much? Any discomfort?” Skip could feel a slight burn in their hamstrings, but they didn’t want to admit any weakness, so they just lied. “I’m fine.” “Good. You’re pretty flexible,” Melody commented, looping the rope on Skip’s wrist around their ankle, so that the two were bound together. Finally, she took the two ropes that correlated to those limbs and secured them to the loop on the back of their waist, so that Skip couldn’t lower their leg or raise their arm away. “Are you comfortable?” “Nothing hurts, and my circulation is fine,” Skip said, shifting their left foot, shuffling from ball to heel to keep their balance. “But your attention is taken up by holding this position?” Melody inquired. “Obviously.” “So, if we were having sex, I’d use this time to exploit that attention.” Melody reached down and placed a hand against Skip’s thigh, her touch resonating through Skip’s sweatpants. “You wouldn’t be able to pull away from me, and you wouldn’t be able to resist, I’d be free to touch you.” “That makes sense.” Skip nodded, glancing down at their foot to adjust their balance a little better. “What happens if I can’t support my weight? If someone were to slip and fall while like this, couldn’t that fuck up their ankle or wrist?” Melody looked at them and raised an eyebrow. “Are you worried?” “I’m worried we might be teaching something dangerous.” “The loop on your waist is a highway knot,” Melody explained. “If it takes too much tension, it’ll pull free, so you’d just fall over. Like I said–don’t squirm.” Skip took a deep breath, maintaining their balance. Focused on staying upright, focused on not pulling too hard, focused on maintaining their composure. Melody really could do anything to them, at least in the short term, and any attempts they made to stop her would first have to involve falling down and trying to get free of the ropes. “Besides,” Melody pointed out, squeezing her hand slightly into Skip’s thigh. “I’m right here. If you fell, I’d catch you.” Resisting discomfort with a veneer of cynicism, Skip snorted, earning a sharp frown from Melody. “What?” “It’s hard to imagine how you’d catch someone you were actively fucking,” Skip pointed out. “Could you really grab a partner mid-fall if you’re in the middle of sucking them off?” Melody’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “I take my partners’ safety very seriously. I wouldn’t be so distracted that I would forget if you were in peril.” “You’re the expert.” “Yeah.” Melody let go of Skip’s thigh and walked behind them, outside their field of view. “You’d also be exposed to various sado-masochistic punishments. Your thighs and ass are always a good target, and right now, I know you can’t wriggle away.” “I get it.” Skip pressed their lips into a line and nodded. “You’ve got your partner in a compromised position, anything you do is more intense for them.” “If I had long fingernails, I could scratch your back, too,” Melody continued, resting a hand on the back of their hoodie. “Or maybe I’d just tickle you–I’ve met a few people who are into that. That’s one way to leave you gasping, before any sexual contact.” Skip set their jaw and shook their head. Being unable to see Melody made them feel vulnerable, beyond what simply being tied up and helpless had done. “Okay, Melody, I’m following all this.” Melody hesitated, fingers twitching against Skip’s upper back. “Are you okay, Skip?” “I’m fine.” “You don’t seem fine. You seem tense,” Melody said. “Do you need to safeword?” “I’m fine,” Skip repeated the lie, daring Melody to call them out on it. “I’m just focused on balancing, like you said–my attention is split.” “If it’s too hard–” (Fuck this.) Jerking their arm down, Skip broke the tension, yanking on the knot until it broke. As Melody had promised, the rope went slack, allowing their leg to fall and giving them the freedom to spin and face their ersatz dominant. “I said I’m fine, Melody. Do you think I was lying?” Melody stared back at them, eyebrows raised sympathetically. “Okay, hold on. Let’s get you untied, and we can take a breath.” She didn’t start working at the knots–instead, she crossed to her nightstand and scooped up the rope cutter she’d left there. Skip glowered and shook their head. “No, we can keep this going, I just need you to listen when I tell you how I’m feeling.” “Skip, you forgot to safeword, you broke the knot, and you really seem kinda freaked. If you need to communicate something like that, you safe word. Say ‘Yellow’ and we can talk. You just seemed overwhelmed, and–” Yanking at the ropes on their wrist, Skip began pulling the knots free themselves. “I didn’t forget to safeword.” “So you just ruined the scene on purpose?” Melody asked, stepping in to help. Now that it was obvious Skip wasn’t in the midst of a panic, she didn’t cut the ropes, but she untied them with deft speed than Skip couldn’t compete with. “Why?” Skip didn’t have a good answer. They had forgotten to safeword, they had panicked, but there was no chance in a million years that they would admit as much. They needed a story that could explain their behavior, but that would thread the needle between believability and not making them look like too much of an asshole. “Because…I…” (What would she believe?) “I don’t want to just play along. I want to know if you’re actually committing to the bit.” Melody didn’t get it. In the middle of kneeling to get the ropes on Skip’s ankles, she froze and asked, “What?” “You weren’t listening to me,” Skip continued, their mouth moving ahead of their head as they continued the lie. “You said you wanted me off balance and focused on staying upright, then you kept breaking kayfabe to ask if I was okay. I didn’t safe word because I was fine, you didn’t safe word because–I don’t know why.” “I was worried about you,” Melody insisted, standing upright to get on Skip’s level. “You’re not following your own rules,” Skip shot back, cementing the deception, the excuse, the facade that hid how they really felt. “So I don’t think you’re treating this like it’s real, so why should I?” Brow furrowing, Melody asked, “What are you saying? You want to quit this project?” (Yes.) “No.” Skip shook their head and stared Melody down, daring her with their words as they came to the conclusion of their tightrope of deception. “I broke the rules. I balked out of the scene. So, if you actually are doing this, then punish me.” ... Oooh, things are heating up! Diapers are imminent! And did I mention that my subscribers get early access to my stories? https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

No, but I'll give you a hint! The movie they're watching came out one year earlier than Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. ^^

Chapter 8: Movie Night “Oh, come on,” Brains objected, throwing a piece of popcorn at the TV. “That’s another monologue about conservation, drink.” Grace tittered, lifting the nipple of her baby bottle to her lips and taking a long suckle of beer. Snuggled up against Pearce on the loveseat, she’d dressed modestly, which mostly meant that her diaper was covered by a pair of shortalls. Brains’ new beau was aware of and okay with the ageplay in their household, but they followed general social rules: No exposed underwear around company. Connor chuckled, wrapping his arm a little more tightly around Brains’ waist. “I was promised shlock and murder birds, not moral grandstanding.” Brains took a drink of his beer as well, but shook his head. “If there hasn’t been enough shlock for you, I don’t know what to tell you. This is how Movie Night goes.” “Do you ever watch…good movies?” Connor inquired, raising an eyebrow. Beaming, Brains declared, “Not at Movie Night.” While they watched the travesty of filmmaking play out on screen, Melody came down, wearing a sweaty top and looking winded. She moved right through the living room and to the kitchen, returning a moment later with two tall glasses of water. “Evening, Mels,” Grace said, waving. “Evening, G,” Melody replied, nodding since both her hands were full. She took a moment to inspect the TV that was currently playing, then made a sour face. “What…is this?” “A cinematic masterpiece, clearly,” Pearce explained. Shrugging, Melody returned upstairs, leaving the four of them downstairs. Brains watched her go, then asked, “Sooo…do we need to get another bet going?” “On what, exactly?” Pearce asked. “When you two started your whole thing,” Brains gestured to the two of them with his beer. “We had a bet going on whether you’d get together. Round two, with Melody and Skip?” “They’re not going to get ‘together’,” Grace chimed in, shaking her head. “It’s Skip.” Looking between them, Connor raised his eyebrows. “Back up, new guy here. What’s the situation with Skip?” “They’re ace,” Grace summarized. “Like, super ace. The platonic ideal of asexuality.” Brains snickered, repeating, “Platonic.” “Thanks, I hoped you’d get that,” Grace added. “Point is–they’re not going to end up in a relationship.” “You can be ace and still be in a relationship,” Connor pointed out. “Okay, well, counterpoint,” Pearce added. “It’s Melody. Maybe you could be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t want sex, but not Melody.” Giggling, Grace added, “Melody’s responsible for more losses of virginity than your typical prom night.” “Cultists hate her,” Brains added. When he got three curious looks, he explained, “Because they can’t find enough virgins to sacrifice.” Connor snorted. “Okay, I see your point. Water and oil. Why make the bet at all, then?” “Because they’re having sex right now,” Brains said. Connor blinked. “Hold up–” “They’re not having sex,” Grace interrupted. “They’re doing BDSM. Or…practicing it? They are BDSM-ing?” “‘Engaged in BDSM’?” Pearce suggested. Brains snickered. “They’re tied up with their current engagement.” “Ugh, that was awful, BD-SMH,” Connor said, rolling his eyes even as he grinned along with the joke. “They’re writing a book,” Grace added. “Or, Melody’s writing a book, Skip is editing and supervising? I think? But they’re not having sex, Melody is demonstrating various techniques, like rope restraints and stuff.” “Weird, okay.” Connor shrugged. “I thought you liked weird,” Brains said, looking at his boyfriend pleadingly. “I like weird,” Connor promised, giving Brains a kiss on the forehead. “Speaking of, what the hell is he doing?” Grace asked, pointing at the TV. “Are they…fishing? Why are they fishing?” … “How’s that feeling for you?” Melody asked, shutting the door behind her as she returned to her bedroom. Skip lay on her bed, trussed from the chest down like the victim of a macrame attack. Rope wound about their waist and legs over a light tee and sweatpants, attached to anchor points on the side of the bedframe and the posts by their feet, so that they were pulled in all directions and couldn’t easily move. Their hands held onto the headboard, and though their arms weren’t tied to anything and they could let go and untie themselves at any time, the rules of the scene dictated that they could not move. In case of emergencies, a rope cutter sat on the nightstand just by the bed, ready to free Skip at a moment’s notice should there be a safety issue. “A little itchy,” Skip admitted, twitching their nose. Setting aside both glasses of water, Melody reached for Skip’s face, hesitating. “Where?” “Kind of, sides of my nose,” Skip said. Melody scratched gently with her pinkie nail, relieving the itch, and Skip exhaled in relief. “Thanks.” “I got that water,” Melody added. “Should I just let go for a moment?” Skip asked, turning their head and lifting their body as much as they could given the restraints, which was only a couple inches. “No, just tilt your head forward.” Melody lifted the glass, holding it gently up to Skip’s parted lips. They drank slowly, and Melody made sure not to overwhelm them, tipping the glass a fraction of a degree at a time until Skip pulled away and shook their head. “Thanks.” “How are you feeling?” Melody asked, looking them up and down. Skip pursed their lips, lifting their head to look over their body as well. They couldn’t raise their hand, but they made a fist and gave a static thumbs up. “No claustrophobia, no panic attacks. I’m good with bondage.” “Want to figure out a proper scene to do, then?” Skip shrugged, though their range of motion was only enough to wiggle their shoulders a bit. “I guess? But I feel like I want to escalate–aside from just doing rope instead of paper. Doing the same scene again would be a waste of time.” Melody tilted her head and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s easy to fall into a rut. What were you thinking in terms of escalation?” “Well–last time, I knew you weren’t going to really do anything bad to me. I just had to act like it, but real kink has real punishments.” Melody frowned. “‘Real’ is a bit subjective there, but…okay. So you want me to actually delete something if you disobey?” “No, that’s…no. I’d rather do something else.” Skip chuckled nervously. “Weirdly, it needs to be milder, so I’m more scared of it actually happening.” “I’m listening, if you had another idea.” “I was hoping you would. I mean…there’s the ‘SM’ part of ‘BDSM’, but we shouldn’t do that.” Melody frowned down at their friend and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to try that? I mean, it’s fine if you don’t, I’d just assumed–” “I don’t want to mix and match,” Skip cut in, shaking their head. “We’re doing this scientifically, that means adding one element at a time. A rope scene plus sadism would be adding two elements at once.” “Okay, yeah, I see your point.” Melody leaned back against the wall. “I mean, there’s a few different ways we can play it. We already tried, ‘You’re helpless, so you have to do what I say or I’ll punish you’, but there’s also, ‘You’re helpless, so I can punish you and you can’t stop me’, and, ‘You’re helpless, so I can reward you and you can’t stop me.’ ‘You’re helpless, so I can use you’ is a classic, too, but I don’t know what I’d use you for.” “I want to stick with the first one for now.” Skip leaned back, thinking for a long moment. “Like I said before–don’t change a bunch of variables at once.” “Okay.” Melody tapped a finger to her lips, looking down at Skip. “Dinner?” “Hmm?” “You do good, I buy you dinner,” Melody clarified. “What, and if I do bad, I buy you dinner?” Skip asked. “I feel like if we both have money on the line, that creates kind of a perverse incentive. Eh, no pun intended.” “Okay, fair point.” Melody sat down on end of the bed, by Skip’s trussed up legs. “I mean, it’s fine for me, I have discounts from a few places I deliver for that I can cash in, but unless we’re writing a section on findomming, ‘you didn’t do good enough so pay me’ doesn’t feel like a good punishment anyway.” “Yeah…” Skip mused. “Bleh, Findomming. I swear that started out as a way to scam horny dudes out of their money.” Meldy snickered. “‘Scamming horny dudes out of their money’ is the oldest profession in the world.” “Okay, but seriously. What’s something unpleasant, but that won’t have a lasting impact? ‘Get it over with and be done’ kind of unpleasant.” “Normally we’d make the punishment sex related,” Melody pointed out, resting a hand on Skip’s knee. “For you, would it be punishment to make you have an orgasm?” Skip rolled their eyes and dismissed the comment. “That’s like having it be a punishment to make me go to the bathroom. It’s just a bodily function. I don’t want that, but it’s not a strong incentive, y’know?” “Huh, okay.” Melody smirked. “Okay, I have an idea for a punishment.” “What is it?” Skip asked. Melody’s smirk grew, spreading across her face into a wicked grin. “Oh, you’re going to hate it.” Leaning their head forward, Skip demanded, “What is it?” … Grace lifted her head from Pearce’s lap, yawning a little bit. The movie was over, and it was getting close to time for her to get ready for bed. “Do you need a change, sweetie?” Pearce asked. She turned bright red, looking over at Brains’ boyfriend. “We have company!” “Well?” he inquired. Her blush burned, but she nodded. “Yes.” “Yes?” “Yes, daddy.” She squirmed, but smiled, resting her head back down again. “But oh no, you can’t get up, I’m in your lap.” Connor exhaled in a half laugh, then leaned over to give Brains a kiss on the cheek. “Your friends are cute.” Brains’ blush was almost as bright as Grace’s. While they were all snuggling their respective partners, Melody came down the stairs once again, looking right over at Grace. “Hey, favor.” Grace sat up right away, focusing a bit. “Oh, of course. What is it?” Melody glanced over her shoulder, up the stairs, then back at her friend. “Can I borrow a diaper?” ... We're only eight chapters in, and I've finally introduced the *concept* of the protagonist wearing a diaper! That's basically the same thing as fast pacing, right? Support is greatly appreciated, and the next two chapters of this story are up in early access for my subs! You want to be a good sub, right? 😘 https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Thank you! That really means a lot and I appreciate you saying it. Creating a story that felt more grounded was a big part of my goal, as well as giving the characters some more relatable issues that I think a lot of us deal with.

Chapter 7 - Fucking Assholes The sound of tearing paper told Melody she’d done her job well, and she smiled as she set aside her empty box of chocolates. The scene had been simple, but there was no such thing as an effortless encounter when Melody was involved. She made sure to give it her all, even when the stakes were nothing and the reward would only be knowledge. “How are you feeling?” she asked, glancing over at Skip. They were rubbing their wrists, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring off at the edge of the room. Melody recognized that they were being thoughtful, rather than zoning out, and after a few moments they replied. “That was a good learning experience.” “Okay, sure.” Melody smirked. “But how do you feel?” Rolling their eyes, Skip said, “I feel like that was a good learning experience.” Her amusement faded, and Melody stepped closer to Skip. “I know it was just chocolate and video games, but it was still a scene. That can be emotionally intense, and you can feel some serious fallout from it–please don’t be flippant. If you feel anxious or stressed, say something. If you feel relaxed and floppy, that’s good to know too–but don’t laugh off how you’re feeling. Okay?” Shrugging, Skip stood and shook their head. “I really feel fine. It was fun, I guess.” “You enjoyed it?” Melody asked, pleasantly surprised. Skip shrugged a second time, picking their hoodie up from the foot of the bed. “The chocolate was good. Do you want to write this up, and I’ll edit it in the morning after work?” Melody couldn’t shake the feeling that Skip was being avoidant, but she didn’t think it would do any good to press for further details. If Skip needed some time to process their feelings, that was on them. “Sure–just promise me that if you do start feeling a sub drop, you’ll tell me, okay?” “Sure, but–it was just paper and chocolate. I’m fine, Mels.” Picking up their switch, Skip nodded to Melody and began walking to the door. That was that. Their first scene together was done. … @CanineBites It’s come to my attention that a certain member of the community has taken it upon herself to write a book on BDSM play. I’m not going to name this person, I don’t want any drama, but let’s talk about this. /thread … @CanineBites Replying to @CanineBites When you write a book, you position yourself as an authority on that subject, but this person is NOT someone who should be trusted. Everyone who knows her knows she’s unstable, abusive, and crazy. /2 … @CanineBites Replying to @CanineBites This individual gives a bad name to the community. She’s already the first point of entry for many people to the world of kink, and that point of entry is full of consent issues and trust violations. /3 … @CanineBites Replying to @CanineBites When you engage in a scene with someone who thinks you’re looking for a partner, without telling them that you’re only looking for a one night stand, that’s not informed consent. /4 … @CanineBites Replying to @CanineBites This person is TOXIC. Anything she writes is not something to be trusted. She shouldn’t be writing a book at all, and if she does, nobody should read it. There’s nothing musical about this creep. Keep our community safe from gross predators! ❤️ ❤️ XOXO /fin … @MelodyMelody Replying to @CanineBites I haven’t done anything to you, and I’ve never lied to a partner. Calling me a fucking r@pist because because some incels think I friendzoned them is so gross. And you haven’t even read the book! … @CanineBites Replying to @MelodyMelody If you wrote it, I know it’s going to be trash. Also, blocked. … @MelodyMelody People are fucking assholes. I’m just trying to help out our community, and I’ve got randos coming after me trying to apply some shitass purity test to my relationships to prove I’m a bad guy. … @BunBunBunnyBunBun Replying to @MelodyMelody OMG sis what happened? … @MelodyMelody Replying to @BunBunBunnyBunBun People are saying my book is going to be some kind of assault manual. They haven’t even read it! … @BunBunBunnyBunBun Replying to @MelodyMelody That sucks … @MelodyMelody Replying to @BunBunBunnyBunBun Thanks ❤️ Once it comes out, it’s going to be super obvious that I know what I’m doing. She probably will still try and claim I just got everything right by mistake, but that’s none of my business :rolling_eyes: … Susie was cute, but she’d unfortunately learned everything she knew about BDSM from Fifty Shades of Grey, and that was worse than inexperience. By the time Melody had unwound the knot of misconceptions about spankings and safewords, Susie decided she wasn’t actually interested in anything kinky. They still fucked, but Melody got the sense that she wouldn’t need to ghost anyone. Susie had come in wanting danger, wanting a threatening asshole to pin her down and make her obey, and while Melody was willing to play the part, she wasn’t going to do that without protocols in place. (This is why we need better education,) she thought as she pumped her strap-on into the moaning blonde on her bed. Susie had got it in her head that the danger needed to be real in order to be fun, and the shock of reality had been so bad that she’d fallen back to bland, vanilla pegging. Ironically, Melody felt disappointed at the lack of fight. The push and pull of a proper scene. Having a prospective sub resist before melting, like cracking into a creme brulee to get to the creamy center. Once she’d learned that Melody wouldn’t just boss her around at random and magically fulfill all her fantasies, Susie had become all cream, cloying and dull like a pack of instant pudding. (God, two food metaphors in a row? Thank god my first thoughts aren’t put into print,) Melody thought to herself, as the girl beneath her moaned and squirted for the third time onto the towel spread over the bed. Pulling out, Melody rolled off of her partner and laid on her back, sweaty and unfulfilled. Susie moved onto her side, smiling in what was probably meant to be a wicked way, tracing Melody’s naked breasts with her finger. “That was great, babe. Do you want me to finger you?” “I’m alright,” Melody said, shaking her head. “Really?” Susie asked, her caress growing a little more firm. “Surely you want me to repay you a little, don’t you?” Melody perked up a bit. There was some push and pull. Sitting up on her elbows, she asked, “Are you going to beg so I’ll let you touch me?” “I just want to make sure you’re satisfied,” Susie explained, missing the tension Melody had hoped to build. Laying back, Melody nodded. “I had fun.” She’d buzz one out with her hitachi once Susie went home. Reaching over Susie, she took her phone, mind already moving to new topics. They hadn’t done anything kinky, so there was no need for aftercare. “Oh, sure,” Susie said, not quite disappointed, but uncertain what else she should say. “If you want to take a shower, there are towels in the bathroom,” she said. “Use the shampoo and body wash in the top drawer–it’s mine.” Susie started to sit up, but she didn’t make any motions to get out of bed. “You okay, sugar? You seem a little distant.” Melody almost dismissed the comment, but it wasn’t as though she cared what Susie thought about her. Setting aside her phone, she said, “Do you feel like I took advantage of you?” “What?” Susie’s eyebrows shot up. “No, of course not.” “I didn’t trick you into having sex? Everything was nice and clear?” Susie rolled her eyes. “Again with this? You don’t need my verbal, specific permission for every little thing we do together. I swear, you girls are all so worried about that stuff.” Melody frowned, sidetracked. “‘You girls’?” “Never mind.” Rolling her eyes, Susie sat up, throwing her legs over the bed and bending to take her panties. “Look, this was fun–I’ll call you, okay?” (No you won’t,) Melody thought, though she didn’t call out the lie–it’s not as though she wanted a second date. “Consent is important, okay?” “Yeah, I think me screaming ‘yes’ over and over was plenty of consent,” Susie said. “Look, honey, I don’t know what’s got you all worked up, but you did fine.” “I know I did fine,” Melody said, reassessing her assumptions about this girl’s inexperience. “That’s not the point.” Picking up her shirt, Susie stood and pulled it over her head. “I know you want to be all impressive, but you don’t have anything to prove. Just have fun with it.” “I’m not trying to prove anything, but it’s more fun when we’re on the same page,” Melody snapped. “Uh-huh, sure thing.” Shimmying into her shorts, Susie said, “You’re right. Good job, hon, you’re way more ethical and better at this than everyone.” Rolling her eyes, Melody laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Whatever.” Stepping into her shoes, Susie said, “Look–I don’t know what you wanted out of tonight, but it clearly wasn’t sex, and I’m not here to play around with whatever mess of problems you’ve got going in that head of yours.” Straightening, she looked down at herself, confirming that her wardrobe was complete. “I had fun. See you later.” She left the room, and Melody was left dumbstruck and confused. (‘You girls’?) It took a few minutes to become certain that Susie had been wrong. Melody had wanted sex, just not the basic-bitch boring sex that Susie was comfortable with, or the risky unplanned kinky play she’d wanted at the start. There wasn’t anything more complicated going on, and she didn’t have to make excuses for having high standards. Either way, the evening had left her unsatisfied, and no amount of masturbation would scratch the very specific itch she was feeling. She didn’t need an orgasm, she needed to play, and the available partners were not going to do her much good in that regard. Ironically, between near-virgins and stuck up know-it-alls, her most fun with a scene lately had been with Skip. At least they had enough confidence to know what they were doing, without trying to boss Melody around or jump the gun. Raising her phone, Melody sent a text. ‘What do you want to do next for the book?’ Skip’s reply came only a minute later. ‘Well, we tried paper. Want to escalate to rope?’ ... Support for this slow burn is sponsored by readers like you! I promise there will be diaper stuff soon. https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Without more information, it's impossible to give a helpful answer. I'll second what Valentine said, that many things in mainstream media could be construed as ABDL. Does the main character have a plushy? Does someone wet their pants? Does their parent figure replace all their underwear with diapers and tell them that they're going to be treated like a baby since they've been acting like one and then they get regressed as an extremely draconian punishment for a minor mistake?

ABDL is more of a set of tropes than it is a genre like thriller or romance, and you can apply any beat sheet you want depending on the type of story you want to write. As an example, I wrote "The Baby Bet" with an outline explicitly based off of the beat sheet suggested in Romancing the Beat, because I was writing a romantic comedy that was also an ABDL story. However, for my ongoing magical academy fiction novel, Diaper U, I wrote an outline more in line with fantasy drama. I find that ABDL stories most often fit with either romance or horror outlines, with the caveat that it's only 'horror' from the perspective of the POV character. (This assumes a story where the protagonist doesn't want to be diapered, but is. Clear examples would be the various Academy Works stories by *cough cough* Mia Moore.) However, the only thing stopping you from writing any genre you want is deciding how to integrate the diapers.

Chapter Three: The Conquest of Brad ‘I need the living room to myself tonight. I want to watch Moana and since none of you are engaging in submissive activities, you shouldn’t be allowed to watch it with me.’ Candy expected the message on the chalkboard to undermine the Littles in their polycule the most. Socks, or herself, or maybe Daisy, whose pet persona leaned more towards ‘puppy’ than ‘dog’. It surprised her, then, that John, the pure kinkster, was the first to crack. “I’m sorry, everyone. I can’t take this anymore–no terms are worth this.” Candy looked up from her breakfast–a spread of waffles lovingly prepared by Mick, though he seemed on edge cooking without his uniform on. “It was your idea,” she objected. “You can’t throw in the towel now.” “You just want to get on his good side!” Socks added, pushing her syrup-soaked plate aside. “Then he’ll be extra mad at the rest of us! S’not fair!” “I’m not going to stab you all in the back,” John shot, getting up from the table. “Or go to him and get special privileges for being the first to submit. We should all give up, at the same time, and beg for mercy. He likes it when we beg.” Daisy whimpered and nodded her agreement, arms crossed over her chest. Candy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Come on–it’s only been two days! We can do better than that!” “Two days is foreeever,” Socks whined. “You’re not even locked in chastity!” Looking for support, Candy asked, “Mick?” Looking at the dishes as an excuse to avoid eye contact, Mick said, “You’re already outvoted. Let’s see if he’s ready to negotiate.” They knew it was a silly thing to hope. Daddy wasn’t anywhere near ready to negotiate. He’d outlasted them, and it hadn’t even been close. All Candy could do was suck it up, draw him out, and hope to find a compromise. “Fine, but I’m going to do the talking.” … Candy’s word choice was precise, direct, and chosen for maximum impact. “Thank you for joining us, Daddy.” Not ‘Brad’. Daddy. She wanted to give him a small victory right away, to show that they were ready to compromise. She was coming to him submissively, with the rest of their polycule lined up around the kitchen table, ready to give him what he wanted. They’d dressed as maturely as they could, in clothes that emphasized their independence and maturity–no maid clothes, no juvenile print shirts, Candy had gone so far as wearing a blouse and light slacks. “You said you were ready to talk,” Daddy said, extending an open hand in a gesture for her to continue. The gesture also, coincidentally, seemed to dismiss the paper contract set out on the table, treating it like a non-object. “So, talk.” “I think we’ve shown that we’re determined,” Candy said, as though they hadn’t been about to buckle in less than forty eight hours. “But there’s no need to drag this out. You know our terms.” Daddy blinked slowly, his expression placid, waiting for her to go on. When Candy didn’t press further, he put a hand on the table and pushed up to his feet. “If this is going to be a waste of my time–” “Wait,” Candy interrupted before he could fully stand, and she breathed out in relief when he sat back down. “We’re willing to compromise on some of our positions.” A smirk curled up at the corner of Daddy’s mouth. “Compromise? I’m listening.” Turning the contract around, Candy picked it up and raised the paper so that Daddy’s face was partially hidden. She opened her mouth, but her voice cracked and she had to try again before she could speak clearly. “The first line item–freedom of cummies. We’re willing to compromise with a once-per-week pass.” “A pass?” Daddy asked. “One free orgasm every week, without needing permission in advance,” Candy explained. “You said you didn’t want me to spend all day riding my wand, well, this way I’ll only have limited buzzy time and that won’t happen.” Daddy tapped a finger on the table, and his gaze slipped from Candy to Socks. “And when you’re in chastity? How will that work?” Socks blushed brightly and lowered her face, and Candy thought she could see steam coming out of the other girl’s ears. “We’ll get to that when we talk about the chastity clause,” Candy explained, trying to remain professional as she moved forward. “Now–the next demand, make out privileges. Instead of at will, we’d be willing to accept thirty minutes of making out, every evening before bedtime.” To her side, Daisy whimpered. This had been one of her requests, the one she’d championed for the most, and Candy had just curtailed it massively. However, she had something else to sweeten the pot: “We would take this time instead of watching cartoons. It would be one or the other.” “You’re willing to give up your Bluey time for this?” Daddy asked. “No more cartoons at all?” “No!” Candy squeaked immediately. “Not–not every night. Just sometimes.” “And how often are you going to say no to watching Bluey with me?” Daddy asked, looking right at her eyes. “Or whatever other show you want to watch.” “Um…I…” Candy stammered, avoiding his willpower-melting stare. “Not…not very often.” “Then why have that option at all? If you’re always going to be a good baby girl for me, then having permission to do something else just complicates things for no reason,” Daddy said. The obvious response came to Candy’s mind, but she couldn’t pass the message along to her lips. (It’s not for me, it’s for Daisy–I don’t need this.) When she tried to explain that, all that she could produce was a quiet squeak in the back of her throat. “Keep going.” Daddy’s tone was full of mock encouragement. “Use your words. What else are you willing to compromise on?” “Um…” Candy’s gaze slid over the paper, where her bedtime arrangements were listed. She’d meant to say, ‘Move bedtimes forward by one hour.’ Instead, she found herself saying, “We want our bedtimes moved from nine PM to nine-o-five.” “Candy!” Socks yelped. “We said–” Daddy cleared his throat, and she immediately fell silent. “I believe Candy is explaining things. It’s not nice to interrupt, sweetheart.” Socks looked down at her toes and nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Candy.” Her shame building, Socks nodded again. “I’m sorry, Candy.” “Mick is…” Candy started. “Um, also willing to make hot brekki–hot breakfast on Saturdays, he’s only asking for Sundays off.” Daddy tilted his head curiously. “Are you too much of a big girl to say ‘Brekkie’ now?” Candy quickly shook her head. “No! I–” Swooping in, Daddy claimed his verbal victory. “Then why are you telling me what to do?” He’d outdone her again, effortlessly demonstrating how Little she was in contrast to him. Knees wobbling, Candy sank back onto a stool, wishing she had the comforting padding of a diaper to rest between her bottom and the hard seat. “I…” Daddy reached across the table and snatched the list from Candy’s hands. “Let’s see what else is here. John still is asking for an open cage, you want nuggies twice a week instead of three times and only one meal with vegetables, stinky diapers must be changed immediately when guests are over.” At that last one, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “You realize I would change you in front of everyone, yes? I can’t imagine you’d prefer that.” Candy shook her head–he was right, and she just hadn’t considered the fairly obvious loophole in her language. She cast her gaze down, acutely aware of the growing wet spot staining the front of her panties. “Um…” “You already wrote this out, it’s too late to change it,” Daddy said. “And let’s see here…the chastity clause. No more than one week at a time, I see, unless it’s a serious punishment. Where would the fun in that be, exactly, if you knew you would always be released right away?” “One week isn’t ‘right away’,” Mick whimpered. “It’s like…forever!” “Then perhaps you need to work on your endurance,” Daddy said, lifting the paper up for emphasis. “Alright. I’ve considered your new terms, and I have a counter offer.” All five of the subs leaned forward, eyes widening as they listened. Pinching the paper between his hands, Daddy tore it in half cleanly down the middle, then doubled it over and tore it again. “You all submit to me, right now, and beg for my forgiveness.” Candy swallowed on a dry throat. “But–” “Candy,” Daddy said sharply. “I listened to your whole little speech, very politely. It’s my turn now, you will not interrupt me.” She whimpered and nodded, fingers trembling, body pulsing with heat and need and the overwhelming desire to submit. “This is my only offer,” Daddy continued. “You submit, now. Candy might think of herself as the ringleader, but you don’t belong to her, you belong to me, and I think we’ve had enough of this little play-pretend independence from all of you.” (Oh god…) Candy thought, as she nearly came in her panties right then and there. Leaning forward onto the table, she clasped her hands in front of her head and looked down, pleading with her whole body. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” “Candy!” John objected. “You–” “I’m speaking,” Daddy said sharply. “Now, Candy, look at me and tell me what you are sorry for.” “For…” Candy looked up at her Daddy and stared into his eyes. The last vestiges of her resistance wash away like a sand castle against the tide, a crashing wet surge of submission and arousal that ruined her willpower and her panties in equal measure. “For acting like I knew better than grown ups, and for trying to be in charge, and for pretending to be smarter than you.” Daddy’s smile turned onto the rest of the group, gaze shifting from sub to sub as he cleaned up any remaining vestiges of resistance with nothing but a powerful smile. With the ringleader dealt with, the remaining independence in the group toppled like bowling pins. Daisy whimpered and whined and sank to the floor, John dropped to his knees, Mick snapped to an attentive, doll-like stance of obedience, Socks covered her face with her hands. “I want to hear it,” Daddy said. “A promise that you won’t try to pull a little game like this again.” A weak chorus of, ‘We promise, Daddy’ echoed from the polycule, as they were all shamed and cowed into obedience. Daddy stood, somehow looming over them all despite Daisy being several inches his superior. “And I want to be clear about something,” Daddy continued, stalking around the table. One by one, he touched each of them, on the chin or the cheek or running his fingers through a strand of hair, and wherever his touch went, he brought out moans and whimpers of desperation. “There is not, and has never been, any promise of non-retaliation. You are all in serious trouble, and you will be punished for acting out like this.” Once more, five ‘yes Daddy’s mumbled out of the group. Candy shivered, and she only hoped he would punish her first–she didn’t want to be greedy, but it’d been two whole days and she was gonna throw a tantrum if nobody punished her soon. He loomed over Candy, and she squirmed and looked away as he touched her thigh, applying gentle pressure to spread her legs and show the wet spot that’d grown on the front of her pants. She didn’t think she’d peed, though in her overwhelming arousal, she couldn’t be quite certain of that. “We’ll take care of that soon.” Daddy took her by the chin and turned her to look up from her accident, forcing her head to meet his eyes. “I hope you got what you wanted out of this little game,” he said. “Because from now on, we’re not going to even entertain the notion that you might have a grown-up bone in your body. You are, all of you, mine.” He was right: Candy, and all of them, were his. And he was right, again: They had, absolutely, gotten what they wanted. The End ... And that's this story! If you liked it, and wanted to help out an author you enjoy around the holidays, consider subscribing to my work! For just a couple bucks, you get early access to all my stories. https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Chapter 22 Thaumaturgy class. (What did she do?) Enchantment class. (What did she do?) Free period. (What in the fuck did she do?) Every time he tried to take notes, to think, to pay attention to anything at all, his anxieties flared up, returning to the same question. Daniel failed to absorb even the most basic lessons from his classwork for the rest of the day. What curse had Rachel laid upon him? He tried to parse it out, but tracing the lines of magic in his head felt like trying to determine what city he was in by following a map of the roads with his finger. He didn’t have the experience, and he had no doubt that Rachel’s threat about getting help was true: If he tried to ask someone to fix it for him, it would become permanent. …whatever it was. It didn’t seem to be doing anything to him. He could walk, and talk, and other than the non-magical panic spiral he found himself in, his thoughts didn’t feel clouded. He hadn’t broken out in hives, or turned into a monster, or otherwise found himself suffering from any obvious negative effects. Had he not been able to trace the lines of magic wound into his aura like a gordian knot, he might have thought Rachel was bluffing completely, but he knew she’d done something. By the time Voxavin practice rolled around, Daniel had no further clues about the effects of the curse. It was possible that he could just ask his coven to look at the curse and help him figure out a way to fix it without directly intervening. That wasn’t the same as having someone else dispel it, it was just a bit of observation, but given the potential danger of a permanent, unknown effect, Daniel plastered a fake smile on his face and pretended nothing was the matter as he found his spot amongst the group. For that matter, he could go to the faculty, but what would he tell them? The dean clearly wanted Daniel gone, and she would likely protect Rachel and deny that the curse had even taken place, let alone that the prefect had done it. Besides, authority figures had a habit of trying to ‘fix’ things, and Daniel didn’t trust that their expertise would get around Rachel’s failsafe. Whatever she’d done to him, he wasn’t going to risk it becoming permanent because an overconfident teacher decided to fix the issue for him. “Hey, Daniel,” Cassie said, giving him a little half-wave. “Uh, hey,” he replied. “We’re finally going to start with some real voxavin today,” Hazel said, stretching out her arms. “No more lame dueling practice.” “Who wants to go first as forecaster?” Mathilde added. “Daniel, you’d probably be pretty good at it.” “Hmm?” he asked, barely aware of the conversation. “I–to be honest, I don’t know what that is.” “It’s what the Familiar is called during a game,” Mathilde explained. “It’s the forecaster’s job to keep track of where everyone is and communicate that to the team.” After a moment to consider the possibility of having to relay his thoughts to the coven while hyperfixating on Rachel’s curse, Daniel shook his head. “I’m kind of out of it today, I don’t think I should start.” “I can,” Asami added, before a sharp whistle brought their conversation to a close. Coach Glinse stood with her arms crossed at one end of the gym. “Alright–teams, we’re going to do coordination drills for thirty minutes, then we can have some scrimmage games. Form up to the sides so we can raise the walls, then I’ll be coming around to check on your progress.” Following the coven’s lead, Daniel stepped to the side of the hexagon they’d been practicing in, next to the barrels of liquid mana. Waiting on the border, he watched as walls raised up from the ground, forming a semi-random maze within each hex. The facing they were against had an open chamber large enough for six people to comfortably spread out and stretch, but beyond that he could only make out a few passageways that spread into a labyrinth. All the openings were wide enough to walk through comfortably, and he could tell at a glance that Mathilde’s wheelchair would fit through every turn pretty easily, though the height of the walls ensured that nobody could peek over the top and the turns were sharp enough to obstruct vision completely. “Alright, girls,” Asami began, before correcting herself. “Team. Sorry, Daniel.” “It’s fine,” he replied. “Let’s circle up and form a connection.” “Who’s taking which elements?” Daniel inquired, stepping in and reaching his hand out with everyone else, like the coven was about to declare, ‘go team!’. “It doesn’t matter for voxavin, we’re not doing shared spells,” Mathilde explained. “We just need the mental connection.” Extending his power, Daniel formed the mental linkup to his coven that they’d been practicing for two weeks. They’d grown much better at it, able to work together smoothly, and to keep the link going even if they stopped touching. They still had a ways to go before doing any complicated magic, but they’d reached the point of clear communication, without having to stop or regroup every few minutes. “Mana disrupts magic flow,” Mathilde continued. “So if you get hit too many times, you’ll lose your connection and we won’t be able to communicate anymore. If the forecaster gets taken out, then the team will be blind, so she stays back by the flags, where it’s safest.” (Remember, I can’t see what you see,) Asami added, thinking it rather than speaking it. (You have to tell me what’s going on.) Pulling his hand back, Daniel nodded to himself. (Got it. It’s a communication exercise.) Asami stayed put, moving her fingers in a delicate pattern as though conducting music. While she did, the rest of them walked towards the maze, moving around the walls and barriers built into the hex. Daniel quickly adjusted his estimation of the playing field. While it was cluttered, it wasn’t exactly a labyrinth. There were many open corridors and areas where vision was open but movement was restricted; windows and openings in walls. It reminded him of playing multiplayer Quake, with the arena built to have sightlines and shooting galleries while still providing cover. (It looks like there’s a big central lane,) he thought, (with some gaps off to the side.) (Good,) Asami replied. (There’s always variance in the layout, but similarities. A hex like this will have some paths to flank that central lane, making it more dangerous, but it’s probably the fastest way to cross from one side to the other.) Exploring deeper, Daniel got a feel for navigation while Asami kept the stream of information running. After they’d had a few minutes to explore, she began running drills, assigning two members of the coven to meet in particular areas and then giving directions to get there. Mistakes were made, but even in the first half hour, they were already getting a feel for things. Daniel found himself making assumptions too often, forgetting to communicate exactly where different turns were, but he made a mental effort to think about where he was at all times, and Asami gave him poor instructions less often. In turn, she occasionally mixed up who was going where, leading to the coven not meeting up as they went off in opposite directions, but as they got a better feel for the hex’s layout, those mistakes grew less common as well. Just as Daniel was starting to feel comfortable with the practice, Glinse’s whistle blew again, indicating that it was time for scrimmage. “Pick a neighbor, and practice!” she called across the gym floor. “Remember, your goal is to work as a team, nobody will be impressed if you run up a high score with cheap tricks.” (How do we score?) Daniel thought, as he walked back to the starting area. (It’s capture the flag,) Asami replied. (Every time you recover a flag from the other team, you get three points, plus one for each opposing player eliminated–but you only score if you get the flag.) Then the mana clears, scores are added, and you go back to the start. Games normally go for thirty minutes, most points scored wins.) (Easy enough,) Daniel considered. (Simple, not easy.) Meeting up in the starting zone, Daniel caught sight of Glinse walking by, carrying an armload of white flags on three foot poles. Despite the lack of a base or stand, when she dropped one off in their hex, the flag stood upright, hovering in place over the ground. “Is there a reason this is called ‘Voxavin’?” Daniel asked, chuckling, “And not just ‘capture the flag’?” “Shh,” Mathilde snapped, looking around with surprising urgency. After she was sure nobody was listening in, she added in hushed tones, “Do not let Glinse hear you ask that, unless you want a twenty minute lecture on the importance of Voxavin in witch culture.” “But, yeah, it’s capture the flag,” Radha added, bending over to touch her toes in a warm up stretch. “We’ll do two teams, plus one solo,” Asami said. “Mathilde, you take the middle path. Radha and Hazel, you’ll go down the right, Daniel and Cassie, you’re on the left.” While they got ready, the walls of their arena shifted, rearranging so that they wouldn’t be able to use their warm-up time to their advantage. That done, their flag blinked, white fabric turning brilliant blue, and the scrimmage began. Mental connection already established, it only took a moment for the coven to spread out. Everyone save for Asami had their wands out, and lifted an orb of mana from the barrels on the edge of the play field, moving towards the new maze with cautious excitement. Daniel felt a surge of confidence. His mana orb wasn’t the largest, and he had to put a lot of thought into keeping it hovering over his head, but he was able to levitate the goop without leaking or losing any. He wanted to get better–the more control he had, the more mana he could carry, and the less often he’d need to return to reload–but it was a confidence boost that he could keep it going at all. Blue goo wobbling in the air behind him, he stepped into the maze, trying to juggle the magic while keeping up with Cassie and updating Asami. (It looks like the sides are more open this time,) he explained, adding out loud, “Have you played…um…” Cassie glanced back at him, tilting her head. “What was that?” Daniel turned pink, and his orb of mana wavered, threatening to burst and fall to the floor. (No, no, no–) (What’s wrong?) Asami demanded. (I–this isn’t happening–) Daniel thought. (Everyone, move to the left side of the arena, Daniel and Cassie are being ambushed,) Asami instructed. In front of him, Cassie shook her head, shutting her eyes for a moment. (Hold it–Daniel, what is going on? Are you okay?) (I…) Daniel’s mouth was agape and his eyes looked down to the edge of his skirt, in total shock. His mana slipped out of his grasp, splattering to the floor behind him, but he barely noticed, too caught up in the surprise. His bladder had simply let go, and he could feel warmth spreading through the front of his diaper, padding swelling suddenly. There had been no warning, no indication that he needed to go, he’d just lost control. (Daniel!) Asami repeated. “He’s fine,” Cassie said aloud, before shaking her head and screwing up her face in concentration. Daniel couldn’t hear what she was thinking, but Asami relayed a message a moment later. (Cassie says he’s not hurt. Daniel, talk to me.) Paralyzed, Daniel shook his head. (Sorry. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, I am back in the game.) Turning, he said aloud, “Give me just a second, I need to get more mana.” “Here, just take some of mine,” Cassie replied, splitting off some of the goop she’d been levitating over her head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Oh, thanks.” Daniel accepted it, flicking his wand to take over the levitation spell. Holding the orb in the air, he smiled, trying his best to regain his confidence. Then he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as his control slipped once again. He felt the pressure with no warning and his eyes widened in horror, but he had no time to run, and nowhere to go even if he wanted to. Cassie stared at him in confusion as he looked around in a humiliated panic, but it was already too late to stop anything. Daniel’s knees wobbled like jelly as the seat of his diaper swelled, heavy mush slowly packing his padding. He tried to clamp down and stop it, pressing his legs together and crossing his arms over his chest, but his control had vanished, and he couldn’t so much as slow the mudslide. Cassie’s brow furrowed for a moment as she tried to parse his huge eyes and quivering lip, then her expression melted into sympathy that only made him feel even more humiliated. “Daniel, are you–” Before she could finish the sentence, a blob of red mana flew out of nowhere and splattered across her face. She stumbled back, and though she kept her balance, a second blob hit her chest, and a third slammed into her wand hand, throwing her back and sticking to the wall behind her. Daniel had time to turn in surprise before an absolute deluge of mana goo pummeled into his body, tossing him to the ground. He’d been so caught up in his accident that he’d forgotten the game and gotten them both ambushed. (Asami,) he thought, but he could no longer hear the forecaster. With his arms over his chest, and his chest slathered with semi-solid, sticky mana, he could only kick his legs and squirm on the ground like a turtle flipped on its back as two girls from another coven approached, carrying with them small blobs of red mana. “Nice shot, Becky,” one of them said, checking around corners as she approached. “You absolutely nailed these two, they…do you smell that?” Catching up, the second girl from the opposing team–Becky–looked down at Daniel, a broad, toothy smirk spreading across her face. “No way–I took out the diaper boy.” “Do you think he–” the first girl began. Rather than answer, Becky swished her wand, flipping up Daniel’s skirt to expose his sagging, yellowed diaper. “No way,” she repeated. As both girls burst into a fit of giggles, Daniel’s heart sank. He’d finally figured out the effects of Rachel’s curse. ... Merry Holidays! 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Chapter Two: Nothing To Gain but our Chains Lockout John felt a little nauseous as he walked out of his bedroom. He’d been all ready to get a good night’s rest, but now it looked like that would be impossible. It’d been fourteen hours since they dropped their demands, and Daddy hadn’t shown any signs of cracking so far. He’d done some work in his shop, run a couple errands, and never once did he come to beg for their submission. That alone was starting to get to him, but when John got undressed for the night and found his sleeping cage–a welded steel box Daddy had built himself–locked and sealed, the shock nearly caused him to give up then and there. He found Candy brushing her teeth, using a pink princess-printed toothbrush and toothpaste that smelled like bubblegum. “I’ve got an issue,” he said, speaking in low, urgent tones. “Daddy locked my cage.” Glancing at him, Candy raised an eyebrow, toothpaste foam dribbling from her mouth as she asked, “Whassapobble?” “Huh?” She spat in the sink and rinsed out her mouth before repeating the question. “I know we want him to leave it unlocked, but that’s normal for now, isn’t it?” “No, no,” John clarified, dropping his voice as though he might be overheard. “He locked me out. With a padlock.” Normally, the ‘Lock’ was just a latch with a zip-tie style tamper proof seal around it, so that John could get out in an emergency. Padlocking it meant that John couldn’t get in to sleep at all. Candy’s eyes widened as she understood, and she moved to shut the bathroom door before responding. “He’s trying to make us give up,” she said, blushing as she hooked a finger in the waistband of her pajama pants. Pulling on the elastic, she revealed a pair of plain cotton panties beneath. Shame-faced, she admitted, “He took away my diapers.” “I don’t know if I can sleep without bars,” John said, shuffling uncomfortably. “I’m so used to my cage, and…” “Here,” Candy assured him, resting a hand on his arm and squeezing gently. “You sleep in my crib tonight. I’ll sleep on the guest bed.” Understanding what she was sacrificing, John whimpered a little, feeling bad for the imposition. “You’re sure?” “To each according to their needs,” Candy promised him. “You need it more than I do.” … Undermining Leadership A message was scrawled on the chalkboard in the kitchen the next morning. ‘Candy cannot stop you from freely submitting to me. You don’t have to do what she says, just because she thinks she understands being your Daddy better than I do.’ Blanching when she read it, Candy hurriedly wiped the chalk away with her sleeve. She wasn’t in charge of the group, she was just their representative, but she didn’t want that sort of message undermining their efforts. Unfortunately, Daddy knew her all too well. The video camera he’d placed got the incriminating shot perfectly, showing Candy’s fear and anxiety as she tried to silence speech that disagreed with her, and before anyone had even had breakfast, the whole house had the clip texted to their phone, along with another message. ‘Why is she afraid of you hearing the truth?’ Hurriedly, Candy followed his text with her own. ‘I’m not trying to act like I’d be a better daddy than daddy!’ His reply devastated her, providing an ironclad reminder that he was in charge–or, at least, that he should be. ‘Then why are you telling me what to do, silly girl?’ … Captive Audience Meeting It wasn’t a scene. If it had been, they would have boycotted, but Daddy promised that he just wanted to talk about some practical things. Daddy was a gosh-darned liar. Socks squirmed uncomfortably as Daddy addressed her, his face straight and level as he absolutely demolished her confidence in the strike. “I want to make sure I have your consent before I post any of these pictures to Fetlife,” he explained politely. The pictures in question were from a scene they’d played out last week. Socks had been trapped in her mittens, filled up with three glycerin suppositories, and left to dangle in her bouncer and watch while Daddy played grown-up games with Candy. Just the memory of the play made her blush–thinking of being bound and helpless as she filled up her diaper, elastic bands forcing her up and down in an endless rhythm that sank her weight into the yucky mess, frustrated and burning with desire as she watched Daddy fuck her big sister. She’d been in a chastity belt since then, and even through the strike, she hadn’t been allowed out. That frustration had only built, horny need that drove her into further desperation, and now as she looked at the photos and remembered what they’d done– “Sweetie?” Daddy interrupted. “Are you alright with me sharing this one?” Socks stared at the picture–a particularly humiliating frame, the moment where she’d lost the fight with the suppositories and began to pack her diapers full. She could remember that moment as vividly as when it happened, how all she’d wanted was to feel Daddy’s cock inside her, but all she got instead was a mushy bottom. “I–” she squeaked. “Mhmm.” “Alright,” Daddy said, swiping on his phone to the next photo. Socks looked at herself, face buried in mitten-clad hands, ashamed and blushing. Squirming, she said, “This isn’t fair!” Daddy played innocent. “What’s not fair?” “You’re getting me all squirmy,” Socks explained, stamping her foot in a fit of pique. “You’re just being a meanie.” “A meanie?” Daddy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Little girl, are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” Normally, that sort of bratting–calling Daddy unfair, calling him names–would be tantamount to getting on her knees and begging for a spanking, but not today. “Nuh-uh. You can’t punish me right now!” “I didn’t say I’d punish you,” Daddy replied mildly, moving to the next photo. “Oh, this was excellent–I can almost hear how you were whimpering for permission to just lick me clean! Wasn’t that so much fun?” Putting her hands over her eyes, Socks whimpered, “Daddyyyy!” He rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing just hard enough to remind her of his strength. “Sweetheart–if you don’t want me to punish you, you can’t throw fits like this. How am I supposed to respond?” “It’s not that I don’t want–” Socks began, leaning forward and pressing her face and hands into the table so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “You know we can’t play together right now!” “Really, now, baby girl?” Daddy asked. “I don’t ‘know’ any such thing–the only reason we can’t play together is because you don’t want to. All you have to do is say the word, and we can snuggle and have our movie night together after all, and afterwards–if you’re a good girl for me, well…maybe you could get to have playtime with me in the bedroom.” She wanted it. She needed it. The desperate need to have daddy humiliate her, and comfort her, and snuggle her, and pin her to the bed and use her like a good little toy. Socks almost broke, then and there, but Daddy pushed a little too hard. He moved to the next picture, and though the tableau of her on her knees, worshiping his cock while he ate Candy out was nearly enough to make her gush in her diaper just by looking at it, she was reminded that she wasn’t just doing this for herself. She had to stay strong, for Candy, and for the rest of them. “Not until you promise,” she said, cutting off the train of thought before shameless arousal could override her loyalty to the other submissives in their polycule. “Alright, no playtime then,” Daddy said calmly, as though he hadn’t expected her to crack at all. “That’s alright. Now…can you look at this picture and tell me if it’s okay to share?” … Right-to-Wet A new message was scrawled on the chalkboard on the second day, along with another change. Candy had learned her lesson–she couldn’t hide it, she couldn’t erase the writing, all she could do was squirm as everyone woke up and saw what Daddy had announced to them. Mick read the message, and though he wanted to ignore it as well, it was hard when it remained an ever-present part of his peripheral vision, posted in the kitchen the whole time he made breakfast. ‘Candy can’t tell you where to go potty. That decision should be made between you and your Daddy. Anyone who asks can have a fresh diaper, without any expectations of other play.’ Matching the timing, he had woken up to find their dressers cleared out of all padding, as well as his maid uniforms–all he had left were boxers, jeans, and plain T-shirts. Checking with Socks and John, he’d confirmed that it’d happened to everyone, losing access to onesies, collars, everything. Candy had been the canary in the coal mine–one by one, they were all losing the submissive comforts that they’d grown so used to. Mick wanted to take Daddy up on his offer. Wearing normal clothes–no skirt, no apron, nothing maid-like in the slightest–felt unnatural, and without the reassurance of a puffy diaper around his hips, his days went by in constant discomfort. And besides–Daddy promised it wouldn’t lead to anything else. He could go get his diaper change without crossing the picket line and giving up their struggle, right? But…Mick knew that wasn’t the case. One crack in their armor, and the dam would burst. If he went to Daddy now, he’d never be able to stop. Still, as he finished preparing breakfast, it was a constant struggle not to give in to temptation, and the message on the chalkboard seemed almost to flash like a neon sign in his vision, reminding him just how easy it would be to give up. Then Daisy walked in. Only…no. She waddled in. Mick froze, barely able to believe what he was seeing. The puppygirl of the polycule just sauntered into the kitchen, diaper on full display below her T-shirt, looking as innocent as she pleased. “Daisy?” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Something you want to tell me?” Characteristically silent, she shrugged and shook her head, a mop of hair flopping around her face as she did. That did it. If Daisy had given in, he would too. Red-faced and as angry with himself as with her, Mick stormed past, fuming as he stomped up to Daddy’s room. On the way up the stairs, though, he bumped into Candy, who caught his expression immediately. “What’s wrong?” “Daisy,” Mick said. “She took a diaper from Daddy.” Candy’s brow furrowed. “She wouldn’t.” “Go look for yourself,” he snapped. “She wasn’t even guilty.” For a moment, Candy shared the same aggression Mick felt, then her eyes widened and she grabbed his hand. “Hold on.” “What are you–” he started, but she dragged him away before he could finish the sentence, pulling him by the wrist like a doll. He hurried to follow after as Candy led him upstairs, past the nursery, and into Daisy’s bedroom. There, she finally let go, leaving Mick to wobble for a moment and catch his balance as she hurried over to the dresser by the wall. “Aha!” she said, pulling the drawer open and producing a puffy paw-print diaper from inside. It was a trick. Daddy had taken everyone else’s diapers, but not hers. Blushing bright red that he’d been so gullible, Mick felt a new surge of energy and turned, hurrying back down to the kitchen. Snapping up the chalk, he wrote his own message beneath Daddy’s, declaring his resistance. ‘No diapers, no peace! Sub solidarity forever!’ … The Scab The five of them sat on the couch, sharing a round of uncomfortable blushes and a singular thought: God, I wish that were me. Daddy was never all that quiet, but today, he was playing it up, loud and passionate as he ravished…someone. Dating outside the polycule was allowed, but he’d rarely brought in someone so vocal, especially not someone that the five of them barely knew. “Who’s my little diaper slut?” Daddy demanded, voice carrying all the way down to the living room. “I am!” a shrill, whimpering voice called back. “You filled up your diaper so good for me–are you ready for your reward?” “Please!” Then the spanking began–loud, powerful SMACKS! that rang out like applause. With every impact, a matching yelp rang, pained cries that the entire group of submissives knew all too well. Jealousy burned hot in the living room as the scene played out upstairs, reminding them of what they could have if they stopped the strike. “Um…can we put on music or something?” John asked. “Daddy changed the spotify password and hid the bluetooth speaker,” Candy pointed out. “He even took the TV plug…” “He hid my headphones…” Socks added in a distraught tone. “He said since they had baby block stickers on them, they were Little stuff, and I couldn’t use them while we were striking…he gave me ear buds instead.” Sticking out her tongue, she emphasized the horror of that substitution by gagging. “I could play music through my phone,” Mick offered, but it wouldn’t be loud enough to drown out the sounds of punishment echoing down the stairs. The smacks had mutated from clapping impacts to heavy thuds as Daddy switched to using a paddle, and the woman he’d brought into his bedroom cried out even louder. “What if we just…went somewhere?” John suggested. “Like, out to get ice cream or something?” “And let Daddy know he can force us out of the house whenever he wants? No,” Candy said. “We have to make a stand here–we have to prove we’re not bothered.” Sitting on the floor by the end of the couch, Daisy began to whimper. She’d given up her own diapers out of solidarity, though Daddy hadn’t yet confiscated them, and she clearly looked uncomfortable trying to sit on the ground in simple panties. Socks groaned in agreement, pressing her hands over her ears. “I can’t take this anymore!” “Come on,” Candy said. “We’re stronger than this. Socks, you sat through two hundred spanks while you had a plug in your bottom! Mick–you managed to clean the entire house with your hands behind your back and a dust mop in your mouth. John, how many hours did Daddy edge you for your birthday?” “Um…three,” John said, smiling, blushing, and rubbing the back of his neck. “And a half. I did pretty good… “And Daisy,” Candy prompted, reaching down to ruffle her hair. “You’re the best girl there is–you’re definitely strong enough for this. We can make it, we just have to hang on a little longer.” That brought their spirits up, until the sound of thudding stopped, replaced by the sound of flesh clapping together, and yelps were replaced with moans. ... The finale of this story is already up in early access for my subscribers! Support is always appreciated, and incredibly helpful. -Penn https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

That's a very good question with no explicit in-universe answer, but my headcanon is that they are normally for Mick

I have my banking info linked to my Business paypal, but it's also a business bank account. I haven't heard of anyone having issues with a regular bank account linked to a paypal, though! Absolutely! This is taxable income and you don't want to get hit with a surprise bill at the end of the year. (And, worst case scenario if you have more than you need, you can pocket it or save it for next year.) I second the suggestion of 25%. Paid platforms have almost no reach whatsoever. You don't get discoverability by posting to Ream or SubStar. The reason I have multiple platforms is so that if one goes down or nukes ABDL content, I've got a backup. (Also, I prefer Ream's platform for reading, but many people only have a SubStar, so I like offering the choice.) I don't use a personal website or AR archive, and I've found that Reddit gets really poor traction, but I use all those other platforms and they work fine.

Chapter One: Seizing the Means of Seduction Candy’s word choice was precise, direct, and chosen for maximum impact. “Thank you for joining us, Brad.” Not “Daddy”. Not “Sir”. Brad. That alone was a white glove tossed across the negotiation table, a challenge. It didn’t matter that she was wearing her PJs–a onesie over a puffy, damp diaper–or that the ‘negotiation table’ was a double-wide kitchen island, she wanted him to know that she, and Daisy, and John, and Mick, and Socks meant business. Daddy just raised an eyebrow at her, pulling up a seat opposite the five of them. He wasn’t dressed for the day either, but his loose T-shirt and sweatpants only emphasized his power; the hard shape of his sculpted body visible beneath flashes of fabric. “I don’t see breakfast,” he pointed out, glancing out at the table. Mick was the housemaid, and though he hadn’t been bold enough enough to forgo donning his uniform and skirts that morning, he’d made a stand in that regard–leaving breakfast unmade. “And you won’t,” Candy replied, raising her hand towards Daisy and holding her palm open, “Until our demands are met.” Nothing happened for a moment, until she nudged Daisy, who was tugging at the hem of the long t-shirt that fell over her own paw-print decorated diaper. The lanky girl yipped in surprise, remembering what they’d planned, and took the sheaf of paper that they’d prepared and placed it in Candy’s open hand. With a flourish, Candy passed the paper across the table, turning it around for Daddy to read. He looked down, expression bemused, then raised an eyebrow as he began to read. “Do we need to bring safe words into this conversation?” Candy shook her head quickly. “No. This isn’t that kind of negotiation.” Nodding, Daddy picked up the paper, eyes lingering on Candy for a moment longer before drifting down to begin reading. The five of them waited on bated breath, awaiting his reaction. “You’re threatening to withhold your submission?” he asked, more curious than concerned. “Not threatening,” Candy replied. “We’ve talked about this, and we’re going to go through with it. If you want our submission, you will need to comply with our demands.” Daddy set aside the paper, instead looking her in the eyes. Candy flinched–Daddy had a look that could make her melt, and he employed it judiciously, dropping her into subspace with the slightest arc of his eyebrows. “Really now, baby?” Her lips trembled, and she struggled to produce any sounds more coherent than pure babble. The pure, concentrated Daddy Energy filled her with an urge to drop to her knees and submit, but a gentle touch from Mick stabilized her. Her submissive-in-arms slipped his lace gloved-hand between her fingers and squeezed, restoring a bit of her ability to resist. Raising her chin, Candy declared, “Really.” Ignoring the paper, Daddy looked them all over. “All of you planned this out?” Nobody else made eye contact with him. Mick found a spot on the ceiling to stare at, Socks looked down at her boots, John turned his nearly-naked body around to face away, and Daisy crossed her arms over her chest and even went so far as to nod her head in defiance, her bone-shaped collar tag jingling. Daddy nodded. “And what are your demands?” She’d hoped he would simply read the list, but of course he was forcing her to speak them aloud instead. She didn’t want a confrontation, but she didn’t have a choice, the whole polycule was depending on her. “First–freedom of cummies,” she said, acutely aware of the chastity belt locked beneath her diaper. “Chastity should only be employed as punishment for serious disobedience. I–we–want access to buzzy time whenever we want, without needing permission.” Daddy chuckled, as though she were joking. “Baby, you know you’re too little to make decisions like that. How would I keep you all in line if I let you spend your whole day just riding your wands?” The comment made her blush, which had to be intentional–Daddy was trying to derail the delivery of their manifesto. “Second,” Candy said, voice trembling slightly. “Make out privileges. We demand permission to kiss and fondle each other at will.” Daddy nodded, though his broad smirk said, ‘Never in a million years’. “No more bedtimes for me or Socks. We should be allowed to stay up past midnight with everyone else. Mick wants access to diaper changes before his daily chores are concluded,” Candy continued. “And he only wants to do hot brekkie on business days, so he can sleep in on weekends.” “Sweetheart,” Daddy interrupted. “You’re not australian. Just because they say ‘brekkie’ on Bluey doesn’t mean you should call it that.” He was trying to get her flustered, and it worked, but she powered through without replying to the comment. “John wants his cage to be left open at night. I want nuggies available for at least three meals a week, and full veto power on anything containing vegetables. Plus, no more stinky diapers when your other Big friends are over, or during playdates with other littles who might tease me–erm, us.” Her lip trembled, but she held eye contact, all her bravery on display. “Is that all?” Daddy asked. “There’s a few more things,” Candy admitted, reaching for the papers. “But this one is the most important. We don’t negotiate anything else until this is signed.” Producing the bottom sheet from the stack, she held it out. Daddy glanced at it, but didn’t read the paper, forcing Candy to explain herself. “What is that?” “A non-retaliation clause,” Candy declared. “Saying that you will not punish any of us for collective bargaining, enforcement of our rules, or for demanding fairer rules.” Looking at the paper, Daddy pondered it for a moment before setting it aside. “Who’s idea was this, Candy? It wasn’t yours.” They remained silent, but Daddy could see through their poker faces easily, and a few darting glances turned his attention onto John. The polycule’s resident rope bunny shivered, his bare body somehow sweaty despite the cool morning. “Toy,” Daddy told John. “What were you thinking? That I’d let you out of your cage if you got your friends to ask with you? You know that everything between your legs belongs to me. And with this little fussing session, I think we can put another month on the calendar before I let you borrow those parts.” John whimpered, but Candy cleared her throat. “It was a group decision.” Daddy didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. “I have a counter offer.” Nodding, Candy glanced at her co-submissives, ensuring they were all ready to listen. “We’ll hear out your terms.” Daddy lifted his chin ever so slightly, an acknowledgement that their efforts had gained his attention–but not his respect. “You all apologize for being brats, and I’ll forget the myriad responsibilities you’ve chosen to disregard this morning.” Daddy’s confident smile shook Candy to her core, and she could tell by the way the others rocked back that she wasn’t alone, but she held strong. “That’s it, then.” “That’s it?” Daddy asked. “A submission stoppage,” Candy announced. “Everyone, this meeting is over.” Getting to his feet, Daddy nodded, moving to step around the table. His fingers reached for the seat of Candy’s diaper, but she stood and stepped back, preventing him from checking her. “I need to see if you’re soggy,” he pointed out. “Don’t you want a change, little one?” She did. Nothing relaxed her more than Daddy’s tender touch, wiping her clean and powdering her dry before wrapping her up in a nice, fresh diaper, but Candy stuck out her chin and shook her head. “Not until our demands are met.” “If you leak–” Daddy started. “I won’t.” “You can’t stay in one diaper forever.” She sucked in a breath, her next statement feeling more like a challenge than anything she’d done so far. “I’ll change myself.” Daddy was taken aback, but only for a moment. Moving on, he looked between them, deciding where to apply pressure next. “Daisy. Are you ready for your morning walkies?” Daisy’s expression brightened, then soured again. She shook her head, sniffing a little as she held her ground. “Socks–it’s pancake day. Don’t you need my help eating breakfast? I’ll cut the pieces extra small.” Candy held her breath, but her baby-in-crime stood proud: Socks puffed out her chest and held her breath, waiting for Daddy to move on. Daddy finally turned to face John, letting Socks exhale. “Toy,” Daddy said to the next sub in line. “Is your harness clean?” “It is,” John promised. “Then–” “But I won’t use it,” he interrupted. “I’m not crossing the picket line, Brad.” Daddy sighed, and Candy felt a surge of triumph. They’d held strong, refusing to buckle under Daddy’s dominant energy. Turning, he said, “Alright. If this is how you want to behave, just remember–it’s your choice.” He left, and the five of them slumped, all drained by the flimsy resistance they’d offered. Shivering, Daisy sniffed, looking like she might cry. Mick gave voice to her concern. “Do you think he’ll be mad?” “It doesn’t matter,” Candy replied. “He’s got to agree to our terms, and that means he can’t retaliate.” “But if he doesn’t?” Socks asked, already desperate after only two minutes of independence. “He said he’d watch Tangled with me tomorrow night–what if we’re still not at an agreement?” “Then we’ll hold strong,” Candy promised her. “I know this is hard, but we have to stick together. Once he gives up, we’ll get to have grown-up time whenever we want! That has to be worth it!” “He’s not gonna wait us out,” John supplied. Almost naked save for the chastity cage Daddy kept him in at all times, Candy didn’t know how he wasn’t shivering cold; without her onesie and knee socks she would have been shivering. “You think?” Socks asked eagerly. “Of course not. He’s going to try and pressure us,” John explained. “Isolate us, make us turn one by one.” “Don’t worry. We held together once, we can do it again,” Candy promised them. Mick wasn’t so certain. “That was when we were all together. What about when we’re alone?” “Just remember: No matter what Daddy promises you, we can’t buckle. He will punish us, so we need to make sure he doesn’t get that opportunity.” “The longer we hold out, the more he’ll try and bribe us,” John added. “He’ll get us alone and make promises–that if we turn, he’ll let us have whatever we want. Don’t listen.” “Daddy’s a fibber, anyway,” Socks said. “The other day he said I could pick between cookies and five minutes with my buzzy wand, but when I picked buzzy time, he didn’t let me plug it in!” Candy slumped back on her stool, tummy grumbling. Without Mick’s usual breakfast spread, she was feeling particularly hungie. “Let’s just go about our day, and don’t let him get to us, okay? We knew he wouldn’t break immediately.” There was a moment of assent and the five of them stood, but it quickly faded as they all tried to think what their day would even look like. Without their typical routine, breakfast hadn’t been made. Candy and Socks would have to feed themselves, Daisy wouldn’t be getting anything served in her dog bowl, Mick didn’t have anything to clean up. Uncertainly, they all milled around the kitchen for a moment, shuffling back and forth, at a loss for how to proceed. “I’ll make breakfast, okay?” Mick suggested. “I like cooking, anyway.” “No,” Candy insisted. “We can’t just do what he wants. If you make brekkie, we lose.” “I won’t make any for dadd–Brad.” Mick shook his head. “He’ll have to prepare his own food.” “You’re not in maid mode,” Candy shot back. “I’ll make it.” “You’d burn cereal,” Mick snapped. “I’m not eating whatever slime you make!” Stepping between them, Daisy lifted her arms and shook her head furiously, her voluminous hair flopping from side to side. Growling a little, she communicated her point without needing to say a word: Stoooop fightiiiiiing. She was right, and Candy blushed as she recognized she’d started a meaningless argument. “He’s getting to us already,” she said, though Daddy hadn’t even seeded this argument. “I…I’m sorry, Mick. You can make brekkie if you want. Socks, I can feed you, if you feed me, ok?” The other baby girl nodded. “Okay!” Mick moved to start cooking, flouncing daintily around the kitchen in his maid uniform. “Everyone, you’re in my way–let me cook.” They filed out, and Candy took a moment to scratch Daisy’s scalp, just behind the ears. “I’m sorry for fighting, girl.” Daisy’s tongue lolled out and she made a pleased sound in the back of her throat, nodding as she accepted the apology. “S’kay.” Candy had one more thing to take care of–she needed a fresh diaper. Daddy had claimed she would leak, and she wasn’t about to prove him right, so she set off to her nursery to get herself changed. She hated doing her own diapers–it just never felt the same. A self-change was a chore, not a pleasure, but she’d already accepted that this would be necessary as part of their collective struggle. Socks was hopeless with changing diapers, and she wouldn’t want to ask anyone else to take on that responsibility. Candy found the nursery door open when she got upstairs, which got her attention immediately. She always shut it out of habit, leftover paranoia from when she'd lived with vanillas and had to worry about her diaper supplies being spotted. Walking inside, she looked for Daddy, wondering what he'd try to bribe her with, but he was nowhere to be seen. On edge, she walked to her dresser, pulling out the top drawer to get her changing supplies. She recoiled in horror, eyes widening once she saw what Daddy had done. A stack of fresh, clean panties were in the drawer. No diapers, no powder, not even a stuffer. Daddy had taken away all her underwear and replaced them with these…things. The panties didn't even have cute prints! A note sat to the side of the panties, written in Daddy’s straightforward handwriting. Reading it, Candy felt a chill run down her back, from the base of her neck to the seat of her damp, sagging diaper. ‘Since you think you're big enough to make grown up decisions, I think it's only fair that you wear grown up panties. If you want your diapers back, you'll have to prove you won't act like a grown up. -Brad’ ... Yes, I did a story based on a meme. I'm not apologizing. Support for this smut is sponsored by readers like you! (Which is to say, my subscribers help keep me in groceries and diapers, and I give them early access and exclusive content in exchange!) https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

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