Sunday, 9 October 2016

Diap Dimension Short Story - Mr Richfield


Mr Richfield stalked along the apartment complex, rage and plans flowing through him.

It had been several years since he'd visited this particular investment property, and the realtor had been managing the tenants all that time. He'd thought that the agent was mature enough to handle such responsibility - she was after all nearly seven foot tall, almost at his chest.

That was, until today, when the woman had called Mr Richfield in an apologetic cadence, reporting what another tenant had overheard. He would have to visit the realtor's office at some stage, and spank that naughty Miss Carsen. But for now, he had a more immediate situation to address.

She'd rented the apartment out to a Little, of all people. One barely over four feet tall at that. Supposedly, the little had seemed 'very impressive' to Miss Carsen, at twenty-seven years old, with a career, respectable style, and enough money to pay the year's rent up front. Miss Carsen had thought her to be 'one who didn't need care' - of which Richfield strongly doubted that there were any. Of course, it wasn't feasible to adopt them all, all the time, but that didn't mean that letting them play at independent grownup should be outright encouraged. It was just not right, and frankly, a bit cruel to them, letting them get into situations which they wouldn't be able to handle, just to appease their pompous little pride and delusions.

And now, early into Saturday, one of the neighbours had reported overhearing her come home drunk the night before, well past midnight. Worse, she'd been overheard bringing a boy with her, giggling and failing to whisper the whole way. But perhaps as the final straw, she didn't even seem to know his name, and had to ask it again during repeated drunken laughs and giggles.

The good neighbour had called Miss Carsen first thing in the morning. And Mr Richfield had stepped onto the property just an hour later.

He stalked up the driveway, glaring at the passing balconies of the long complex, looking for the one which he knew to be his. It had been some years, but... there - the second from the last.

Mr Richfield turned towards the staircase between the garages, but froze as he heard a giggle from the window just above his head.

Dear god, that was her. It was so high, so sweet. Not a giggle which should be associated with anything sexual. A faint voice mumbled a moment later. Male, he thought. But he must have been a little too, since it hardly sounded very manly. Not the deep baritone voice of a large successful investor such as Mr Richfield.

He resumed his march, going straight up the stairs and for the door. The girl would have to be adopted. There was not even any doubt about that. And diapers seemed the appropriate solution to make sure that she wasn't touching herself sexually - besides, she was a little, and probably needed them to some extent anyway. The boy would need special treatment. He might be a little, but he should have at least know not to mess with an angel so small and high voiced. He'd be sent off, and could easily be changed into a girl too, so that he understood some of what the poor little darlings experienced from their point of view. Of course, Mr Richfield couldn't have the pair together ever again, but he had no doubt that there would be an eager queue to adopt after how cute and complete the transformation would be.

Mr Richfield reached for the door handle, deciding not to even bother with a key. It was time to show who was in charge. He simply used his considerable strength to twist the handle open, then marched into the apartment, booming in his deep, commanding voice.

~~~

3 Months Later

Mr Richfield flicked through the newspaper, leaning back into the comfort of the wooden park bench. His overseas investment in an ocean energy farm had paid off, and he wondered if perhaps his considerable estate could use an upgrade.

A slight jingling of a toy with a bell embedded inside drew his attention, and he guessed that Ami-Waimi was rushing over from the playground.

"Daddy."

He smiled, it was so pleasant to hear her high, girlish voice. And she never failed to address him by his proper title.

He folded the newspaper down and out of the way, a warm glow in his eyes and a smile on his chiseled jaw.

She was still always a sight, and it brought an ever deeper love. An elaborate set of braided pigtails curled about her crown, while a silly short pink & white toddler dress flared to her hips. The dress was a bit shorter than her usual - much of her thick diaper was on  display today, though it was harder to see from the adult angle above.

"Yes my Angel-Cakes?"

 She was holding something a bit nervously, which he guessed was intended for him.

"Nanny said that I should show you this flower."

His brow rose slightly, and he accepted the blue flower from his adoptive 'little girl', letting her tiny hand land in his enormous palm for a moment. He still felt the electric shock of paternal adoration, as strong as from the first day - not to mention a slight thrill of such domination. She was, after all, technically - in some senses - a grownup, but he just denied her the chance to be so. After all, he had excellent justification.

"Thank you sweetie. It's very pretty. Just like you."

She shuffled about for a moment under his praise, though it did bring out a blush on her cheeks. How wonderful it was to know that she never had to worry about anything more than that these days. That she hadn't been allowed to touch herself from the day he'd met her.

He turned his attention to the flower, and turned it about in his hands. It took him a moment to understand, and then a warm smile spread across his face. He'd been falling for Ami-Waimi's nanny lately - a respectable eleven foot amazon who didn't take 'No' from littles for an answer. The woman had used their shared point of adoration as a messenger, and was pointing out how well they could fit together, while also flirting from a respectable distance.

The adult concepts might have been above Ami-Waimi's head by now, or not. It didn't matter. Her focus was on suitable playpen toys these days, and keeping her marks up at her newly enrolled daycare two to four days a week.

Mr Richfield glanced up from the flower, searching for Nanny Mabel in the playground. She of course wasn't hanging on so tightly as to be looking their way, and was instead helping another mother with her own little , changing her diaper on the grass beside the playground. It was a wonderful sight, seeing the maternal powerhouse working, mirroring his own paternal nature.

"Baby."

"Yes Daddy?"

"Go give Nanny a kiss on the cheek for me. Tell her Daddy likes the flower very much."

Ami-Waimi paused for a moment, then turned and waddled off as instructed. The stringy toy in her arm jingled from the bell inside, and slowly faded along with the crinkling of her diaper.

Mr Richfield watched after them, smiling the entire time. The event at the investment property had hardly been a disaster after all. He couldn't imagine the world without Ami-Waimi under his care. It was as if they were made for each other, and had been waiting to find each other all that time. She was a totally spoiled little toddler, and, he thought, might even soon have a legal mother. Or 'Mommy', as she would be addressing Mabel. The thought made his heart flutter with excitement, and he could almost hear the words formed in her cute, high little voice.



Diap Dimension Short Story - Mr Richfield


Mr Richfield stalked along the apartment complex, rage and plans flowing through him.

It had been several years since he'd visited this particular investment property, and the realtor had been managing the tenants all that time. He'd thought that the agent was mature enough to handle such responsibility - she was after all nearly seven foot tall, almost at his chest.

That was, until today, when the woman had called Mr Richfield in an apologetic cadence, reporting what another tenant had overheard. He would have to visit the realtor's office at some stage, and spank that naughty Miss Carsen. But for now, he had a more immediate situation to address.

She'd rented the apartment out to a Little, of all people. One barely over four feet tall at that. Supposedly, the little had seemed 'very impressive' to Miss Carsen, at twenty-seven years old, with a career, respectable style, and enough money to pay the year's rent up front. Miss Carsen had thought her to be 'one who didn't need care' - of which Richfield strongly doubted that there were any. Of course, it wasn't feasible to adopt them all, all the time, but that didn't mean that letting them play at independent grownup should be outright encouraged. It was just not right, and frankly, a bit cruel to them, letting them get into situations which they wouldn't be able to handle, just to appease their pompous little pride and delusions.

And now, early into Saturday, one of the neighbours had reported overhearing her come home drunk the night before, well past midnight. Worse, she'd been overheard bringing a boy with her, giggling and failing to whisper the whole way. But perhaps as the final straw, she didn't even seem to know his name, and had to ask it again during repeated drunken laughs and giggles.

The good neighbour had called Miss Carsen first thing in the morning. And Mr Richfield had stepped onto the property just an hour later.

He stalked up the driveway, glaring at the passing balconies of the long complex, looking for the one which he knew to be his. It had been some years, but... there - the second from the last.

Mr Richfield turned towards the staircase between the garages, but froze as he heard a giggle from the window just above his head.

Dear god, that was her. It was so high, so sweet. Not a giggle which should be associated with anything sexual. A faint voice mumbled a moment later. Male, he thought. But he must have been a little too, since it hardly sounded very manly. Not the deep baritone voice of a large successful investor such as Mr Richfield.

He resumed his march, going straight up the stairs and for the door. The girl would have to be adopted. There was not even any doubt about that. And diapers seemed the appropriate solution to make sure that she wasn't touching herself sexually - besides, she was a little, and probably needed them to some extent anyway. The boy would need special treatment. He might be a little, but he should have at least know not to mess with an angel so small and high voiced. He'd be sent off, and could easily be changed into a girl too, so that he understood some of what the poor little darlings experienced from their point of view. Of course, Mr Richfield couldn't have the pair together ever again, but he had no doubt that there would be an eager queue to adopt after how cute and complete the transformation would be.

Mr Richfield reached for the door handle, deciding not to even bother with a key. It was time to show who was in charge. He simply used his considerable strength to twist the handle open, then marched into the apartment, booming in his deep, commanding voice.

~~~

3 Months Later

Mr Richfield flicked through the newspaper, leaning back into the comfort of the wooden park bench. His overseas investment in an ocean energy farm had paid off, and he wondered if perhaps his considerable estate could use an upgrade.

A slight jingling of a toy with a bell embedded inside drew his attention, and he guessed that Ami-Waimi was rushing over from the playground.

"Daddy."

He smiled, it was so pleasant to hear her high, girlish voice. And she never failed to address him by his proper title.

He folded the newspaper down and out of the way, a warm glow in his eyes and a smile on his chiseled jaw.

She was still always a sight, and it brought an ever deeper love. An elaborate set of braided pigtails curled about her crown, while a silly short pink & white toddler dress flared to her hips. The dress was a bit shorter than her usual - much of her thick diaper was on  display today, though it was harder to see from the adult angle above.

"Yes my Angel-Cakes?"

 She was holding something a bit nervously, which he guessed was intended for him.

"Nanny said that I should show you this flower."

His brow rose slightly, and he accepted the blue flower from his adoptive 'little girl', letting her tiny hand land in his enormous palm for a moment. He still felt the electric shock of paternal adoration, as strong as from the first day - not to mention a slight thrill of such domination. She was, after all, technically - in some senses - a grownup, but he just denied her the chance to be so. After all, he had excellent justification.

"Thank you sweetie. It's very pretty. Just like you."

She shuffled about for a moment under his praise, though it did bring out a blush on her cheeks. How wonderful it was to know that she never had to worry about anything more than that these days. That she hadn't been allowed to touch herself from the day he'd met her.

He turned his attention to the flower, and turned it about in his hands. It took him a moment to understand, and then a warm smile spread across his face. He'd been falling for Ami-Waimi's nanny lately - a respectable eleven foot amazon who didn't take 'No' from littles for an answer. The woman had used their shared point of adoration as a messenger, and was pointing out how well they could fit together, while also flirting from a respectable distance.

The adult concepts might have been above Ami-Waimi's head by now, or not. It didn't matter. Her focus was on suitable playpen toys these days, and keeping her marks up at her newly enrolled daycare two to four days a week.

Mr Richfield glanced up from the lower, searching for Nanny Mabel in the playground. She of course wasn't hanging on so tightly as to be looking their way, and was instead helping another mother with her own little , changing her diaper on the grass beside the playground. It was a wonderful sight, seeing the maternal powerhouse working, mirroring his own paternal nature.

"Baby."

"Yes Daddy?"

"Go give Nanny a kiss on the cheek for me. Tell her Daddy likes the flower very much."

Ami-Waimi paused for a moment, then turned and waddled off as instructed. The stringy toy in her ar, jingled from the bell inside, and slowly faded along with the crinkling of her diaper.

Mr Richfield watched after them, smiling the entire time. The event at the investment property had hardly been a disaster after all. He couldn't imagine the world without Ami-Waimi under his care. It was as if they were made for each other, and had been waiting to find each other all that time. She was a totally spoiled little toddler, and, he thought, might even soon have a legal mother. Or 'Mommy', as she would be addressing Mabel. The thought made his heart flutter with excitement, and he could almost hear the words formed in her cute, high little voice.



Friday, 4 March 2016

Held by Daddy sketch

Just a little sketch which I was practising drawing Daddy characters with, probably won’t go further than this, but I thought it was kind of cute.


Sunday, 24 January 2016

Chasing Emily (Diaper Dimension) Fan Art - A Show At Lyle Redmond's House

A bit of fan art for Chasing Emily, still one of the best AB/DL stories I've ever read.

I wasn't happy with my previous attempt at drawing the ballet dancers, so decided that the other drawing perhaps just showed another event from elsewhere in the world.

There’s a higher res version available on DeviantArt



Tuesday, 22 December 2015

“You should really pick up your toys" by kilzboy83

Another fantastic shrinking/giantess piece by kilzboy83 at DeviantArt. So good it had to be shared.


A Christmas Tale - A Diaper Dimension Story

Note: This is set in Princess Pottypants' fantastic Diaper Dimension universe. You can find the original and other stories since here.


---
The house was abuzz with Christmas preparations underway.

Mrs Lara Martina prepared the day's big lunch, while Tim and Jen touched up the Christmas tree. It had been up for a month, but the thirty-something husband and wife had arrived late last night, and felt that the tree could do with a little more decorating for the special day.

Presents sat around the tree. Just waiting to be opened.

More adults sat about the living room, drinking a mixture of hot, cold, and alcoholic drinks to celebrate the festive season.

The front door opened and closed, and Georgia entered, all smiles. A small cheer went up, and Mrs Martina leaned out from the kitchen, waving an excited stirring spoon at her eighteen year old daughter as she entered the house.

Georgia waved as she walked past. She glanced into the second lounge, and smiled at her older cousin Mallory, who was bouncing her little on her knee.

Sasha had been decked in an incredibly cute littles Christmas dress, red with white trim, high-hemmed enough to inspect most of her diaper. Georgia would love to get another chance to play with her.

Sunday, 13 December 2015

A Normal Little's Life | A Diaper Dimension Tale


Peaches blinked away the sleep, but didn't act disobediently as she was sat in front of the vanity mirror today.

Even though she would never have chosen this, she couldn't deny that a part of her - deep down - felt a little bit like a spoiled and special princess. Of course, other parts of her rebelled.

She looked over her short pink toddler dress in the reflection, and blushed.

It made it rather clear what kind of adult Little she was, and what her home-life was like. Very few people would even talk to her like an adult again, particularly not the larger folk. And she was rather trapped in their society's world now. It was getting hard to believe that she had even ever been an adult.

The giantess behind picked up the enormous hairbrush, and began firmly combing out her night tangles. Peaches winced and blushed, but sat fairly still. She'd had months to get used to this, and she knew full well that the hairbrush would be used on her bottom if she was 'a naughty girl.' She kept her squirming to a minimum, and was 'good.'

Good girls didn't get spanked after all. At least, not as much.

She even felt a bit guilty about the times she had been or thought naughty, even though that logically she knew that she shouldn't. But it was hard not to, being a fraction of the size of the Amazon giants, in their society where they saw adult Littles as needing to be taken care of, like children. She'd been bathed, she'd been spanked, and she'd been put to stand with her nose in the corner, then apologize for her behaviour.

The adult in her had been trained out. It was getting hard to believe that there was anything but this life for her.

And she was getting pretty good at being a toddler. She had five stars from daycare this week. Her littles-ballet group was performing monthly on the stage in the park, to a crowd of hundreds every second Sunday. She even had two regular playgroup friends - the other little 'girl' next door, and another girl from daycare whose 'Mommy' somehow knew her Mommy. There was even a boy who Mommy might let her start playing with, though she was much more careful and supervising of that - and Peaches' life was all supervised now days.

Of course, that might have included supervised bathroom trips, if she was allowed to use one.

Her reflection clearly showed the thick diaper beneath her very short dress. The final insult about what Amazons thought of littles. Quite a few betweeners presumed that she must need them if she was wearing them too, and had partaken in overly embarrassing discussion and changing of her diapers.

She squirmed about on the thick thirsty padding of her diaper, just glad that it was dry, and clean. There was no way to even describe being made to use a diaper for the uncleanest of purposes as an adult. But the amazons were simply sure that littles needed it, and it often became a self-fulfilling prediction when a little was given no other choice. After that, it became a regular part of life for littles, with many humiliating checks and comments. It was impossible to feel like a grownup with all that.

But littles "just weren't really grownups", as giants and giantesses like her Mommy would say.

Peaches went obediently still as her Mommy finished up her hair, attaching a bow, and then pulling up the pink dress off over her head. Unfortunately the woman only replaced it with a pink t-shirt, and Peaches winced. She hated it when people could actually properly fully see her diaper - and she had a playdate today! Sure, everybody saw hefty glimpses of it beneath her short dresses, or even the full outline when she was doing ballet - but she at least usually had a leotard or something over it, and could pretend that she had some dignity.

Now Mommy wanted to broadcast to the world that Peaches was just a baby. Perhaps her playmate had been acting up, and needed the reminder. Well, Peaches would do as her Mommy expected, she would be the best possible baby today as she suckled on her bottle of expressed breastmilk. She didn't want to get in trouble herself, and also wanted to remind her friend of what they were. The girl would only get herself in trouble otherwise, with likely spankings, enemas, and maybe even another trip to one of those strange etiquette schools, where many littles learned for good how to be babies.

Peaches still remembered her one week spent at one, when Mommy had needed to go overseas for travel. She still remembered how teenage Amazons a fraction of her age yet several times her size had so easily put her into a crib at night, and had changed her diapers in the morning, increasingly cooing at her like the baby she felt like.

Yes. What had Peaches been thinking all morning? She was definitely just a baby, and did not want to go back to one of those places. She stretched out on her back, and began suckling on her milk bottle, intending to be the best baby when her friend arrived today. Perhaps they could play ponies and rattle toys, it was how a baby like her should be spending her days after all.
 
 

Viewpoint 2


Angel - formally Angela - tried to re-find the confident energy she'd had yesterday.

When she'd planned to escape from her forced baby lifestyle, and get back to things like non-embarrassing adult underwear, her job selling stocks, and getting to control her own credit card. It didn't sound so good now, when she thought of it like that, but she was sure it was better than this. Wasn't it? Yes - of course! She didn't have to use diapers in that life.

She'd tried to convince herself not to surrender to this forced second childhood. To flare up some of her sense of maturity beyond just the indignant fuming beneath the surface. Amazon culture was so wrong about what littles were! Of course, their size and ability to enforce their views made them a reality in the end.

Angela was going to find that adult part of herself again, she'd told herself. She'd been so sure of her escape plans. So sure that when she visited her playmate Peaches - she wasn't even sure if that was her real name - the other girl would be overwhelming keen to similarly join in.

Yet somehow, her Mommy had picked today to remind her of what a baby she was. She'd awoken to a very messy diaper, after Mommy had insisted on the need for a suppository the night before. It had been bad enough having to get to sleep in it, but waking up and tossing and turning for a further two hours had only reminded her of how much she wasn't really an adult now. She'd seen littles like herself back when she'd been getting by as a sneaky but free adult. In strollers and sucking on pacifiers with startled looks on her faces. She'd never believed them of having any chance of getting back to regular adult life, so how could she believe it for herself? Thrashing in her crib for the morning hours in her messy diaper?

Then Mommy had given her breakfast before changing her. There was no highchair or bottle for her this morning though - at least not straight away - instead Mommy had put her right on the nipple. Angela's mouth had been forced over the gross enormous nipple, while Mommy's squeezing cupping of her dirty diaper reminded her of how much of a baby she was. Angela couldn't even bite - a Little's teeth couldn't pierce a Giant's skin - instead she'd just had to suckle, like the baby which she was trying to convince herself that she wasn't.

Then during her highchair feeding, she'd been made to recite her 'favourite' song from her morning kids cartoons show. It always involved a lot of bouncing and required forced giggling, and the state of her messy diaper on the hard highchair surface hadn't been reason to change today.

Full with oats and prunes, she had played with her pink plastic princess doll in the bath. It had gone on for quite a while, as Mommy had cleaned every nook and cranny of her, head to toe. It was hard to feel like an adult after that.

And then, as a final handicap, her adoptive 'Mommy' hadn't given her pants or a dress today. Instead she was just in a t-shirt and diaper, which would show everybody when she 'went to the bathroom'! She'd heard her Mommy saying something on the phone to Peaches' Mommy, and then they'd been off, nothing more to cover her diaper.

She'd had to politely greet her host when they'd arrived on the porch, getting a smile and kiss from Peach's Mommy, as well as a pat on her exposed diapered backside and a comment about how she was such a good girl.

Peaches, it turned out, had been wearing a similar outfit, making it even harder to perceive themselves as anything but two diaper-wearing babies as they sat there banging their rattles on the floor, while Peaches' Mommy sat looking on and knitting.

Her hopes of feeling like an adult again today were feeling incredibly foolish. Instead she felt more like a baby than ever. Peaches rolled around a bit on her back and grabbed at her toes, making surrendered giggles and motions.

Angel had refused to play with her at some point, and then had received the ultimate humiliation - a spanking from the supervising 'adult'. It was bad enough being spanked by her own Mommy, but a playmate's parent? While a guest in their home?

It rather sealed the deal of her new permanent state as a baby for Angel. And the first thing she did for her quiet lay-down time-out to the side was stop holding back the galleon of pee which had been building up since that morning. The indignant adult part of herself retreated back down to a normal level for littles, as she was reminded of what a baby she was. It had only been a few hours since she'd spent an entire night in a soiled diaper, and now she was already wet again. She tried to begin getting comfortable, supposing that this was just what being a 'good baby girl' - a little in diapers - was like.