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prettyprettypaci2 · 5 months

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Squire - Part 7 and Epilogue

👑 Start From the Beginning 👑

"M-mm-mmm. Mooooooooooo!"

Like a tumbler at the county fair, your stomach twists and contorts itself into improbable knots. You feel off-balance and take a step forward, only to feel the tug of the pink breastplate from your leather baby reins; Blackwood holds you fast while the Royal Interpreter looks on, unsmiling as she strokes a large white rabbit in her arms. You fear you're about to be sick all over the fine new silk dress Madame Matilda put on you this morning. Its stiff crêpe skirt flares out at your belly button, leaving your fresh white diaper on full display.

"My dear friend, what has become of you?!" You sob.

Unable to remain standing under your own power, you feel Blackwood mercifully give your baby reins some slack as you fall to your knees. Your smooth, shining legs straddle the puffy diaper that droops between them.

"Mooooooo! Moooooooooooooo!"

The blonde squire you once knew as Mouse presses against the wooden slats of this outdoor enclosure, their pale face painted with soft mud. Their erstwhile tiny body is subsumed by a heavy garment printed with a holstein pattern, which is padded to mimic the proportions of a dairy cow. You recoil in horror as a wet BLAAAAAART from Mouse's rear end is followed by an expansion of the padding below their stomach, adding even more weight to your former companion's bovine form. Their whole costume is a single, colossal diaper! It pads them from the rattling cowbell around their neck to the tips of their hoof-clad toes!

Mouse's eyes are vacant and without emotion as they stare stupidly in your direction, though their pupils dilate the moment your gazes meet. For a moment, they are still. Then, with a soft whimper, they turn away from you and saunter off on all fours, their cowbell announcing every lumbering movement as they drag themselves slowly to a feeding trough on the far side of the pen. They continue to fart noisily, adding ever more girth to the full-body diaper encasing them.

You shudder as you tear your eyes away from the miserable scene, seeking comfort in the sight of your own comparatively small diaper. You realize you're instinctively trying to piss, though you must have already wet yourself; the thick padding has become dark and yellow.

"Is this to be my fate as well?" You croak. Your mouth has gone drier than sand, though tears drip from your eyes.

"The squire will not speak without being spoken to!" Blackwood barks, his sallow face contorting in rage. "The squire does not question what royalty wishes for it! The squire is an object, a brainless toy, a -- "

"You are dismissed, minister." The Royal Interpreter's silky alto voice leaves Blackwood struck dumb. "Remove the squire's reins and tend to other matters. Her Majesty will have words alone with it."

"B-but, Your Highness!" Blackwood stammers, his mouth agape. "You cannot be left alone with this squire. It is stubborn and headstrong, and it has now seen Your Majesty's Dairy! I have it on firm suspicion that it attempted to escape the Squirey by aid of that treasonous cow!"

"Blackwood! We suffer no more challenges from the Minister of Our Holdings than we do from our squires! You have been given a command."

The color seems to drain from Blackwood's face. Despite your disgust and awe at Mouse's pathetic state, you cannot help but feel satisfaction as he is dressed down by this slender woman half his age. With rough hands, Blackwood pulls you back onto your velvet heels, unfastens the reins around your torso, and frees you from captivity. With an awkward tap of his thin black rod on the soft ground, he departs for the stables, walking stiffly.

A soft breeze catches your extremely short crêpe skirt, and you shiver from your relative lack of clothing in the autumn air. You're unsure what to do now that you're alone with the Royal Interpreter and her rabbit -- one of the hundreds you had found beneath the hollow of the tree during the Hunt.

After that day, you had spent a week confined to some dusty tower where not even Pig could manage to visit you. The only interruption to your isolation came when a handmaiden would enter to feed you gruel and change your soiled diaper. You could sense the gravity of what you had discovered in the woods, but did not fully understand what it meant...or how much danger you were in for having seen it.

The Royal Interpreter examines your face as Mouse lows softly a short distance away. You grasp at your skirts and perform a quick curtsy, but are too terrified to add the customary giggle. At last, the young woman speaks:

"You were the heir to the Duchy of Berceau."

It doesn't appear to be a question, and you're unsure how to react. It was a title you had not heard in so long...for over a year, you have simply been 'squire' or 'it.' You lower your chin in the gentlest nod.

The Royal Interpreter bends at the knees, letting the rabbit in her hands wriggle out of her grasp and hop a few paces away, where it grooms itself carelessly. She then lifts the hem of her dress and steps over to a milking stool near Mouse's pen, easing herself down before patting her legs with both hands.

"Come. Sit on my lap."

You're breathing heavily. A few moments ago, you had imagined you were about to be imprisoned in an enormous diaper and tossed into the pen with mindless, mooing Mouse, living out the rest of your miserable days as Her Majesty's milk cow. With Blackwood dismissed and the so-called "Queen" paying no heed, you're now entirely unsure what this is all about. With another curtsy, you approach the Royal Interpreter and allow your diaper to squish against her knee, which she begins to bounce as she wraps a firm hand around your back. Deprived of Pig's companionship for more than a week, you can't help but gasp and feel excited as the mushy padding massages you down below.

"Once upon a time," the young woman says, keeping up the rhythm of her bouncing. "There was a beautiful princess who was the jewel of the land. Everyone from the highest noble to the lowliest commoner was smitten with her charms. Her mother hoped she would grow to become a powerful and fearsome Queen, but the princess had a secret."

The Royal Interpreter brushes a lock of hair from your eyes before sliding one of her thumbs between your open lips. Paralyzed with confusion, you simply suckle and slurp on the young woman's hand as she goes on with her tale.

"The princess could not keep her bed dry. Throughout her life, a laundress came each morning to collect the wet linens and replace them with new, before any of the servants could see. The laundress had a daughter, in whom the princess often confided. They would sneak off into the woods and find places to hide, where the two of them could talk and play make-believe all day."

Your cheeks bulge around the young woman's thumb as you continue to suckle. A clattering of bells behind you announces that Mouse has clambered back. Drool drips from their mouth as they eye you curiously.

"The princess and her friend loved the woods, where they would imagine themselves as all manner of animals. One day, while hunting, the Queen discovered the princess pretending to be a rabbit. All the lords and ladies saw this woman of majority hopping about, eating scraps from the ground, and wetting the diapers the laundress' daughter had swaddled her in. The Queen was furious! She swore an actual rabbit would sit on the throne before she ever let the princess lead her kingdom, insane as she must have been."

The young woman begins bouncing you faster as Mouse moos plaintively, and you thrust your hips in unison, aching for relief.

"When the Queen died unexpectedly, the disinherited princess simply vanished. It was just as well, for that last promise made in a moment of anger was enforcable by law: a rabbit was crowned in her stead. The kingdom descended into chaos, until the laundress' daughter stepped forward. She could speak to the rabbit...and tell the ministers and councilors and bishops and generals everything they wanted to hear. They were so desperate for a leader, they allowed themselves to believe it was true."

"There were advantages to this strange zoocracy," she goes on. "When illness or old age or a clever assassin got the better of Her Majesty, another rabbit was always in waiting. The laundress' daughter kept hundreds in the woods, along with her favorite pet of all."

You inhale sharply and mumble around the thumb in your mouth. "Duh pwincess."

"Yes, the 'pwincess,'" the Royal Interpreter nods, stone-faced despite her amusement. "The princess who was unfit to rule, for she desired nothing more than to live as a diapered pet, and to toy with other diapered pets like her. But the laundress' daughter sought her advice on every detail of governing. And together, they hatched a scheme where Her Majesty would train squires to entertain and serve at court. Diapered squires who barked and giggled and made fools of themselves, just as the princess had made a fool of herself...all so she could at last return home."

"But even the princess needed to be broken."

You hear the familiar voice interrupt the story, and a soft hand press into the front of your diaper from behind. You moan and squirm as Pig, who had approached from outside your view, kneads your padding gently. The Royal Interpreter continues to bounce her knee and stroke your slurping tongue with her thumb.

"The princess had begun having second thoughts," the Royal Interpreter goes on. "The laundress' daughter was terrified of losing her friend again. But she had power now -- perhaps more than anyone had ever had. She would train her lovely squire to love this new life, just as she would all of her squires thereafter."

"Or, out of jealous love," Pig says -- you feel their lips brush against your ear as they grab your head and twist it to face Mouse, who moos and floods their massive diaper with yet more sludge -- "She would turn her into this."

You scream, not from terror, but from ecstasy. The bouncing of the young woman's knee, the manipulations of Pig's hand, the thumb in your mouth and the sight of Mouse's humiliation forge a cacophony of sensations that send you spinning over the edge. Your hips buckle and shake as you search out every last drop of pleasure within the thick diaper that has become your most beloved companion. You fall back against Pig and continue to suckle the thumb, bathing in the glow of your dissipating excitement.

For the first time ever, you see the Royal Interpreter smile. It is soft, and cruel, and beautiful.

"The end."

👑 👑 👑

You are reminded of your first day at court as your heels clack against the marble: all the eyes of the lords and ladies burning into your skin as you danced and sang and showed off your diapers like a giggling fool. You suppose it was not so different from how today will transpire. Some lecherous lord is sure to pick you up and slap your diapered bottom. You will certainly laugh and curtsy as you're ordered to crawl on your knees, to eat something off the floor, or to climb into a lap and fill up your padding.

But today it will feel different. Because today you will have a name.

The Royal Interpreter sits on her throne, stroking some rabbit or another who has been chosen to play the Queen. There is no flicker of recognition in her face; no betrayal of your chance meeting in the hollow or of the story she told you at the Dairy. In a way, you are as terrified of this woman as you ever were. Because now you know the fate that will befall you if you ever dare to cross her.

Pig's glittering pink hair catches your eye as you stoop into a curtsy before the Queen. They smile mysteriously, having found the perfect spot to witness your naming.

A nervous dribble fills your diaper, and you giggle genuinely. Never have you been so proud to be so humiliated.

The Royal Interpreter lifts the rabbit to her ear to make a show of listening intently. Your stomach churns as she sets the creature down in her lap, knowing your moment has finally come.

"Little Sparrow."

The words are non-chalant, almost bored. But it doesn't matter. Tears of joy roll down your cheeks and you fall to your knees, overwhelmed with excitement. You see Pig lick their lips, perhaps imagining how they intend to celebrate with you when the evening comes to an end.

You are a squire. At last, a proper squire!

And you will be a squire forever.

A Story by Paci

Thank you for reading.

#ab dl diaper #ab dl lifestyle #ab dl mommy #diaper pee #diaper sissy #diaper training #diaper gal #diapered247 #ab dl girl #huc0w

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mlmxreader · 10 days

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here is the other thread that Zayna posted; this one specifically speaks about dehumanisation being used as a weapon of war. again, below the cut, I'll put all the tweets in plain text so that those w/o access to twitter - I'll also include a link to the article at the end.

From israel themselves, they stripped them down of anything that resembles a human being. they locked them in a cage as if they are animals and they tied them up and tortured them. In israels own eyes, they are not human.

[this tweet also contains a screenshot from the article which states as follows: "According to the accounts, the facility some 18 miles from the Gaza frontier is split into two parts: enclosures where around 70 Palestinian detainees from Gaza are placed under extreme physical restraint, and a field hospital where wounded detainees are strapped to their beds, wearing diapers and fed through straws.

“They stripped them down of anything that resembles human beings,” said one whistleblower, who worked as a medic at the facility’s field hospital.]

Israel has been doing this for a long time, they strip palestinian men and young boys, they put numbers on their skins and torture them until they denounce their palestinian identity. a couple of months ago images of israel went viral bc they kidnapped men and boys and shot them

this camp where they round them all up to torture (for no crime other than existing as a palestinian as stated by them) is not surprising but it must be known that this was their goal. their goal to make the world view palestinians (especially palestinian men) as subhuman

“(The beatings) were not done to gather intelligence. They were done out of revenge,” said another whistleblower. “It was punishment for what they (the Palestinians) did on October 7 and punishment for behavior in the camp.”

the israeli leaders and spokesmen stated that we are animals, that we are the children of darkness and that they want to rid the world of us. theyve stated multiple times all they want to do is torture and destroy us. so how can anyone be shocked theyve built concentration camps

[this is a tweet from the Prime Minister of Israel's account and reads:] "This is a struggle between the children of light and the children of darkness, between humanity and the law of the jungle."

this is why I get angry when you all push the “innocent women and children” and forget the palestinian men that exist, this is what israel wants. they want you to inherently believe every palestinian man is a terrorist and evil. this cant go on for any longer.

the link below is to the article that Zayna spoke about:

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allthecanadianpolitics · 8 months

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Ontario is expanding the number of conditions for which pharmacists can write prescriptions. At a news conference Sunday, Health Minister Sylvia Jones said the province has added six more common ailments to the list of conditions pharmacists can diagnose and treat, effective immediately, bringing the total to 19. [...] It's added acne, canker sores and yeast infections to the list, along with nausea and vomiting related to pregnancy, diaper rash and parasitic worms such as pinworms and threadworms.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#Ontario #Healthcare #Pharmacists #cdnpoli #canada #canadian politics

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lilqtboy · 1 month

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I drank too much after the Diaper-Minister open day so daddy put me in a Junior plus with a Kiddo booster and this morning she was so swollen that I could hardly walk.🍺💦🫣

#adult diaper #diaperboy #gay diaper lover #ab dl #gay dl #gay #diaperminister #kiddo diaper #adult nappy

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padded-daydreams · 7 months

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Have you seen the kiddo's teddy ultra yet?

I have now. It is adorable, but even if I had the money for diapers (I haven't had diapers in months because I don't), I doubt I'd be able to get them anyway. The only place I've been able to find Kiddo diapers is through European based websites, and the shipping costs are double/triple the diaper costs. I live in New York, and I'd have to make a huge order to be able to justify it, and again, can't exactly afford it right now. Thanks for letting me know about them though, they are cute. Wish I could buy them.

#i do have an amazon wishlist in my pinned post #though i doubt these diapers are on amazon #i do have #$pensarecool #but this is rambling way further than the anons intentions even were probably in the first place #I got this ask just as i was falling asleep in my defense #no filter idk #yeah #💚 ask about diapers #kiddo diapers #kiddo teddy ultra #agere dips #ageredips #padded agere #sfw diaper wearing #ask response #anon ask

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missfrieden · 5 months

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Tech as a father Chapter 31

Two days back at work, and I had to get sick... well at least I only have a sore throat and don't use it for longer vacation. What a new start for the year. But anyway next chapter.

Masterlist

Chapter 31: Problem ahead

Tech's heart raced as he received the encrypted message from Amanda. He quickly moved to sit in his bunk, ensuring that no one would notice his communication. With practiced precision, he activated a secure communication channel and responded to Amanda's query if he is on Kamino. The prepared bottle now being held loosely in his hand. "Yes, I'm on Kamino at the moment" he typed carefully, his fingers moving swiftly across the datapad's keys. He didn't dare mention Orion, just in case the message was intercepted. The secrecy of their son's heritage was paramount.

The seconds dragged on as he waited anxiously for Amanda's response, wondering what she might need or want to communicate. It had been too long since he'd heard from her, and his heart ached for a connection, even through these encrypted messages.

"I have been summoned to Kamino by Prime Minister Lama Su, he said I need to get a few medics and troopers back to the temple with me. And maybe, it is not the best idea when you know our stars are around, given... but I know you can't simply leave without any direct orders. I will arrive with my Padawan in half a rotation." Tech's heart skipped a beat as he read Amanda's message. Her presence on Kamino was unexpected and raised a whirlwind of emotions within him. He quickly composed a reply, mindful of the urgency and secrecy of their communication.

"Understood. I'll stay clear of your path and won't interfere. Do what you must, and teach your Padawan. If you need anything, you know how to reach me." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I hope to see you, even if it's from a distance." With a final glance at Orion, who he picks up and was now waking up and his bright blue eyes spotting his bottle, Tech sent the message, his heart heavy with the anticipation of seeing Amanda, if only briefly.

As Tech started to feed Orion, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. The prospect of seeing Amanda again, even from a distance, filled him with a sense of longing and excitement. But he also understood the complexities of their situation and the need for secrecy. Tech has to learn to keep his distance when Amanda was around, especially after their last encounter when Orion had cried when they left the ship. It was a painful reminder of the delicate balance they had to maintain to keep their secret hidden.

So, Tech focused on feeding Orion, gently caressing his son's cheek as he took each sip from the bottle. He knew that, for now, their separation from Amanda was necessary to protect both her and Orion.

With Orion peacefully asleep on his chest after he had his bottle, Tech continued to work on his reports. His nimble fingers moved swiftly across the datapad, detailing their recent missions and making sure to add a few extra layers of security to the logs to prevent any unwanted prying eyes. The soft rise and fall of Orion's chest against his own provided Tech with a sense of comfort, even amidst the clandestine activities he sometimes found himself involved in. As he finished up the reports, he couldn't help but glance down at his son's serene face, a smile tugging at his lips. In that quiet moment, Tech's heart swelled with both love and a deep sense of protectiveness.

Tech's heart raced as Orion's cries filled the barracks, escalating into a full-blown meltdown. Panic surged through him, and he quickly set aside his datapad, scooping Orion up in his arms, desperate to soothe his distressed son. "Hush, Orion, it's okay," Tech murmured in a soothing tone, gently rocking him back and forth. He checked Orion's diaper, temperature, and for any visible signs of discomfort, but nothing seemed amiss. Tech knew why but he hoped for another reason.

The rest of the squad was now wide awake, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion. Hunter who was so startled fell out of his bunk, recovering from his fall, approached Tech, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong with him, Tech?" he asked, his voice filled with worry. Tech shook his head, his own anxiety mounting. "I don't know, Hunter. He was fine just a moment ago."

Orion's cries showed no sign of stopping, and Tech continued to hold him close, trying to comfort him as best he could while searching his mind for any possible way to sooth his son's distress. “Tech, you are lying to me… what is wrong with him?” Hunter asks again after a moment. “Amanda is on her way to Kamino, or to be precise to this very cloning facility” Tech mutters. “Great! Not enough problems already.” Crosshair snarls, probably more irritated he was woken up.

Tech's heart raced as he carried Orion towards the Havoc Marauder. He hoped the familiar sounds of the ship and the gentle rocking motion of his steps would provide some comfort to his distressed son. Orion's cries echoed in the quiet corridors of the ship, and Tech's worry continued to mount. As he stepped inside the ship, the low hum of the engines greeted him, a sound he had grown accustomed to over the years. He carefully held Orion while he started up several system. The soothing vibrations from the ship's idling engines seemed to have a calming effect on Orion, who now smacks his tiny fists against his father’s chest, throat and shoulders.

Tech continued to hold Orion close, gently stroking his tiny back as he walked back and forth in the cockpit. The squad watched from the doorway, their concern evident. Hunter, Crosshair, Echo, and Wrecker exchanged glances, all feeling a mixture of helplessness and worry for their youngest member. Because they would not let Tech handle it alone, all knew there is just one way for Orion to stop. And they could at least help shield Orion and Tech, from questions of the regs or their creators.

Chapter 32

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @aalizazareth @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter

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prettyprettypaci2 · 6 months

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Squire - Part 4

👑 Part 1 👑 Part 2 👑 Part 3 👑

"Oh! You're wet already! But weren't you just changed? You must be so terribly excited for today!"

Pig tosses their pink hair and gives the front of your diaper a playful squeeze, causing you to gasp and whimper. You're holding a gold-embossed tambourine that tinkles gaily as you wobble backwards on your shiny leather heels. You look down in a panic, but you're unable to see the state of your diaper due to the mountain of petticoats that keep the skirt of your fur-lined costume poofing out from your waist.

"I am not...I did not...did I?" Knowing you're forbidden from laying a hand on your own padding, you squeeze your thighs together and feel the familiar bulk of sodden cloth and cotton clinging to your groin. You sigh with resignation and bury your face in your hands, smelling the dark pink lacquer Pig had spent an hour applying to your fingernails. You remember how difficult it used to be to actually use your diapers; you had always needed to concentrate for several minutes and imagine the sound of running water. After weeks of conditioning and heavy doses of Madame Matilda's tonic, the act of wetting or messing has now become unsettlingly easy. But still, to have used your diaper without realizing...

"It's just nerves, little sparrow," Pig replies lovingly, straightening the large hairbow woven into your immaculately curled ringlets. "On my first day at court, I thought I was going to be sick! It is overwhelming, to have all the eyes of the Queen's guests on you, and not a few of their hands! And dressed like that, you'll no doubt be the prize of the evening."

"Ohhhh noooo," you moan plaintively, pouting as you stare at yourself in the mirror of the antechamber in which you and Pig are waiting. Blackwood, the minister responsible for your grand presentation to the Queen, had delivered your new garment shortly after you finished slurping up your morning gruel. The voluminous pink gown is trimmed with heavy white fur and gold threads that sparkle in the light. Though your shoulders are bare, a lacy halter rises from the tight bodice and clings to your neck, just below the pink leather collar which defines your position as property of Her Majesty. It had been days since you even thought about the collar; its crushing grip is no longer so palpable against your throat. The leather band has simply become an extension of your body, as unnecessary to fret about as your fingers and toes.

"If I begged Madame Matilda, would she change me?" Your lip quivers, and the tambourine in your hand sings as you hold it in front of your soaked diaper like a shield. "Or perhaps you could...?"

"Of course I can't!" Pig's expression is uncharacteristically severe. Their face softens as tears begin to drip from your eyes. Pig reaches out and takes the tambourine from your hands, setting it on a nearby table. You shiver as they once again press their hand into your heavy, wet padding, causing the strange material to crinkle and pop. "You have worked so hard, little sparrow. This was not a life you chose, and it has been more difficult for you than most. But I saw your potential the very first night I held you in my arms. So pretty...so vulnerable..."

You take another step back on your shiny leather heels, but Pig steps forward to keep pace. Your back is pressed against the wall of the antechamber, and you are pinned by Pig's grasp on the front of your diaper. They begin to knead and massage the sodden cloth in and around your loins, causing you to whimper pathetically.

"Please..." You mumble, though the word 'stop' fails to reach your lips. The still-warm bulk of your diaper caresses you strangely. You've always been disgusted by the smells and sounds of the ridiculous garments, but there is something about the squish of the padding against your skin that is not...entirely unpleasant.

"Do you know how Her Majesty selects her squires?" Pig asks, rolling their knuckles up and down along your groin as you gasp and shudder. "She values beauty, yes. But there is a certain...uncountable quality she admires. A quality like new leather. Any fool can own leather shoes for a handful of coin, but for them to truly be yours, you must wear them. With time, they begin to soften. Then mould to your feet. The leather comes to fit you, and only you. She saw you and realized you could be made to break...like fine, beautiful leather suited only to her."

"But I have never met the Queen," you moan. You realize you are now thrusting your diaper against Pig's hand, aching for them to continue their teasing touches. "I was seized before ever setting foot in court."

Pig's eyes flash, their lips curling into a smile. "She often moves unseen by those who do not know her. She is powerful and fearsome, but also wily and clever. You would not have been made her squire if she had not laid eyes on you first."

Pig's stroking becomes faster, and you shut your eyes tightly. You have a feeling like you get when eating Madame Matilda's poisoned gruel -- the world seems to fade away and your mind becomes little else than a vessel for absorbing tastes, touches, and scents. You feel Pig's breath warming your bare shoulders and smell their rosy perfume mingling with the salt of your sweat. You're now hurling your padding into their grasp, a strange tingle beginning to grow from somewhere swaddled deep within the sagging cloth of your diaper.

"Are you ready to please Her Majesty?" Pig asks, pumping butterflies into your stomach with each squeeze of their hand.

You're not even sure you heard what they said, and just nod stupidly as drool begins to flow from your mouth in thick streams.

"Good..." Just as you hear the door to the antechamber open, Pig smothers your mouth with their own and pulls their hand away from your thrusting diaper. You moan pathetically, terrified at the idea of someone walking in on this scene, but also desperate for a release which you've now been deprived of. Your breathing is heavy, your thoughts a distant fog, and you stare wide-eyed at the imposing figure of Blackwood, who hovers at the door.

Pig breaks the sloppy kiss and stoops into a curtsy, turning to face Blackwood. A moment passes before you remember the same is expected of you, and you shuffle away from the wall so you can place one leg behind the other and dip your knees towards the floor. Your ruffles of petticoats bounce gaily as you pop up, forcing an awkward smile and giggle.

"Her Majesty's squires are now expected at court," Blackwood announces, twirling his thin rod and using it to point to the door of the antechamber. "The newest squire will present itself to the Queen and perform its tribute, then join the others in tending to Her Majesty's guests."

Pig minces past Blackwood and out of the antechamber. Still flustered and excited from your encounter, your heart begins racing like a horse at full gallop. You can hear people outside -- not the murmur of squires and servants, but the animated and raucous chatter of lords and ladies! You begin to quake on your pretty heels, and find yourself unable to move.

With a menacing growl, Blackwood swats the front of your diaper with his thin rod; even with the thick padding, it causes you to yelp and startles you into motion. You pull nervously at one of your ringlets and smell Blackwood's spicy musk as you pass beneath his gaze towards the door of the antechamber. You feel his tight grip on your arm.

"The squire is being watched very closely," he says with a threatening tone. He then places his rough hand on your bare back, and you nearly fall over as you're shoved out the door.

Your head is spinning as you mince into the light of the court room. It's more opulent than any you've visited; the walls, painted with murals depicting great battles, are trimmed with ivory-white stone carved into the shapes of crashing waves. Unlike the uneven stone floors of the Squirey, the elegant marble is smooth beneath your feet -- each clip and clop of your mincing leather heels announces your presence to the gathered assembly. You feel hot blood rushing to your face as dozens of eyes turn in your direction. Your brain does not register individual faces, unable to soak in more than flashes of expensive robes, colorful dresses, grinning gold teeth and rouge-painted cheeks.

And at the end of the processional corridor formed by lines of noble men and women, you see the vision you had feared since the first day you were called a squire: a throne -- a true throne -- draped in royal purple. In your home country, you had always heard conflicting legends of the Queen. You had expected someone old and fearsome, fattened with the luxury of wealth like so many nobles are. But presiding over this court is a slender young woman -- perhaps in her early twenties. Her face is unsmiling, but not unkind. Her lilac gown is simple but radiant.

Most curious of all is the crown on her head: a silver headpiece with long protrusions painted to look like the ears of a rabbit. The craftsmanship is easy enough to compare to its likeness: an enormous white hare lies on her lap, its own ears perked up in attention.

You feel the sodden squish of your wet diaper acutely as you force yourself to approach the throne. The excitement you felt in Pig's grasping hands has not gone away, even with the eyes of so many people upon you. With trained precision, you toss your hair, giggle shyly, and lower yourself into a curtsy so deep your knees nearly touch the floor. The young woman does not visibly react.

You realize now is the time to present the tribute you prepared, but a bolt of horror strikes you: the tambourine is still in the antechamber where Pig had left it on a table! Could you offer your tribute without it!?

With a plaintive cry, you hold up your hand to signal that you intend to return, then turn on your heels and run back to the antechamber. In order to move more quickly, you lift your petticoats, and the Queen's guests begin to roar with laughter as you place your fat yellow diaper on display for all to see. The clip-clop of your heels against the marble is only made more comical by the jingling of the tambourine in your hands as you trot back. The assembly of nobles is in hysterics, and you fear you might simply suffocate from the humiliation of it all.

Your face redder than a rose, you quickly stoop into a second curtsy and then tap your tambourine as you segue into the song and dance you had rehearsed with Madame Matilda for so many weeks:

"I'm a dainty little squire, so silly and gay,

Softer in spirit than the blooms of May.

Lift up my skirts, for then you shall see

What a pissy little pet I was meant to be.

One squeeze of my diaper if you think I am sweet

Two if you're a tease, and another for a treat.

I'm a dainty little squire, so silly and gay,

In diapers I am now, and in diapers I will stay."

As you warble out the tune like a nervous nightingale, you kick up your heels and wiggle your bottom like you've been taught. You have never heard such laughter in your life: cruel and disbelieving, it cuts into your heart like a knife. For the hundredth time, you pray uselessly that you will wake up from this living nightmare. But the crowd jeers on.

The only face in the room that is not laughing is that of the young woman on the throne. She seems almost as though she weren't looking at you, concentrating instead on stroking the white rabbit in her lap. She lifts the creature up to kiss it on the head, and appears to whisper to it before finally glancing in your direction and giving a slight nod.

Your heart sinks. Had you failed to please her? After a few moments, the guests appear to return to regular order, and fewer eyes are upon you. The young woman returns to stroking her rabbit. Unsure what to do now, you look wildly about the room for a familiar face. You see the diminutive Mouse hiding in a corner, pawing at the red sash tied at the waist of their dress.

"What happened?" You ask in a panic, clacking across the marble to talk to them.

"Please go away. You'll make the others notice me," Mouse squeaks in reply, shrinking even further into the corner.

"Did I fail? Will I be punished? The Queen didn't say anything. She didn't even seem to notice me."

Mouse sighs sadly, their eyes continuing to dart around the room. "Trust me, if you hadn't succeeded, you would already be over Blackwood's arm, getting dragged to your fate."

Your whole body relaxes, and you feel yourself dribble into your already-soaked diaper. A weariness washes over you, and you glance back at the purple throne.

"She's not what I expected. I had always feared her as a merciless ruler. She is so young...and yet, is she not too old to be playing with a rabbit at court?"

You see Mouse's face contort into a confused expression, then turn to one of fear. The footsteps of two burly noblemen fall silent behind you.

"Come here, Mouse," says a broad-shouldered man in a dark blue tunic. "You cannot hide away forever. I know you've been pining for me since our last adventure." The man grabs Mouse roughly by the collar and tosses them over his shoulder.

"Look at you! A pretty new face," his companion says, clutching your chin in his fingers. The man is taller and bulkier than Blackwood, and is dressed in a fine wool suit. "Come bounce on my knee and I will show you what it means to be a proper squire."

You feel yourself lifted off your heels, which kick uselessly in the air. As the two men walk side-by-side to a long dining table in an alcove of the court, you and Mouse are left dangling over their backs, squirming and whimpering.

"What were you going to say? About the Queen?" You whisper to Mouse as the young woman on the throne shrinks in your view.

"She is not the Queen," Mouse murmurs back, their lower lip trembling as they continue to wriggle uncomfortably. "She is the Royal Interpreter. The Queen is -- "

Mouse yelps as they are dragged away from you to a different section of the table. You are left squirming in the grasp of this strong nobleman, who is now massaging the back of your sagging diaper as you're hauled to a quiet corner of the court for who-knows-what purpose. Your mouth is agape as you come to a twisted realization. Her Majesty -- the most notorious tactician since Alexander the Great, the most feared ruler to ever walk the continent, your keeper, your master, your owner -- is...

is......

🐰

👑 Part 5 👑

#ab dl diaper #ab dl lifestyle #ab dl mommy #diaper pee #diaper sissy #diaper training #diaper gal #diapered247

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thebardostate · 2 months

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A Child's Memory of a Past Life as His Own Grandfather

From Life Before Life: A Scientific Investigation of Children’s Memories of Previous Lives by Jim Tucker, MD (2005), Chapter 7

Sam Taylor is a boy from Vermont who was born a year and a half after his paternal grandfather died. When Sam was one and a half years old, his father was changing his diaper one day when Sam told him, "When I was your age, I used to change your diapers." After his mother saw the puzzled look on his father's face as he brought Sam out of his room, they discussed the comment, which they both found odd. Neither had ever given reincarnation much thought. Though Sam's mother was the daughter of a Southern Baptist minister, his parents were not religious.

Following that incident, Sam gradually began saying that he had been his grandfather. He also said, "I used to be big, and now I'm small." While his father was initially skeptical about such a possibility, his mother was more open to the idea, and she began asking him questions about the life of his paternal grandfather. At one point, she and Sam were talking about the fact that his grandmother had taken care of his grandfather before he died. Sam's mother asked him what his grandmother made every day for him to drink, and Sam correctly said that she had made milkshakes and that she had made them in a machine in the kitchen. He got up to show her the food processor on the kitchen counter. When his mother showed him the blender in the pantry and asked if he meant that his mother had made the milkshakes in it, he said no and pointed out the food processor instead. In fact, his grandmother had made milkshakes for his grandfather in the food processor. She had then had a series of strokes after the death of his grandfather, and Sam had never seen her make milkshakes for anyone.

At another time, Sam's mother asked him if he had had any brothers or sisters when he lived before. He answered, "Yeah, I had a sister. She turned into a fish." When she asked him who turned her into a fish, he said, "Some bad guys. She died. You know what, when we die, God lets us come back again. I used to be big, and now I'm a kid again." The sister of Sam's grandfather, in fact, had been killed some sixty years before. Her husband killed her while she was sleeping, rolled her body up in a blanket, and dumped it in the bay.

At other times, Sam correctly said that his grandfather's favorite place in the home was the garage where he worked on "inventions" and that Sam's father had a small steering wheel of his own when they rode in the car. When his father was a boy, he had a toy steering wheel that attached to the dashboard of a car by suction cups.

When Sam was four and a half years old, his grandmother died. His father flew out to her home to take care of her belongings and returned with a box of family photographs. Sam's parents had not had any pictures of his father's family before then. When his mother spread them out on the coffee table one night, Sam came over and began pointing to the pictures of his grandfather and saying "That's me!" When he saw a snapshot that showed a car without any people, he said "Hey! That's my car!" This was a picture of the first new car that his grandfather ever purchased, a 1949 Pontiac that was very special to him.

1949 Pontiac

His mother gave Sam a class picture from when his grandfather was in grammar school. The picture showed twenty-seven children, sixteen of them boys. Sam ran his finger over the faces, stopped it on his grandfather's face and said "That's me."

The father said that Sam's grandfather did not communicate very well about emotional issues with his sons, particularly when they were adults. Sam's father let his own father know how he felt about him, but his father had great difficulty reciprocating. He feels that if his father has come back through Sam, then his deceased father is reaching out to return his love. Sam's father is very open with all of his children, and he and Sam seem to have a very good relationship.

#consciousness #reincarnation #materialism and its discontents #children's memories of past lives

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diapered-dav · 1 year

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Stock refait. Hâte d'essayer les Rearz Critter Caboose. Essai à prévoir aussi des ip pants pour varier les plaisirs. Et les méga booster devraient apporter un vrai plus ! Hâte de les essayer aussi. Et stock refait de tena ultima un plaisir a bon rapport qualité prix. Merci @diaper-minister

New stock. I can't wait to try the Rearz Critter Caboose. I will try the ip pants to in order to try new pleasure. And the mega booster will add a lot of absorbency. I can't wait to try it too. And a new stock of tena Ultima, a good pleasure with a good price. Thank you @diaper-minister

#ab/dl lifestyle #adult diaper #ab dl #diapered #boys in diapers #diaperboy #frenchdl #ab dl fr #ab/dl #ab/dl diaper #ab dl diaper #ab/dl blog #abdldiaper #ab dl lifestyle #dl #frenchabdl #adult diapers

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les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques · 6 months

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Ten First Lines Game

Rules: Share the first line of ten of your most recent fanfics and then tag ten people. Don't have ten? Not to worry, just share what you have.

Thanks for the tags @emotionalmotionsicknessxx and @catcorsair <3

The Fly Agaric

(Erik/Christine, Rated M. Leroux-based. Post-canon angst, smut, and fee-fees.)

The simple explanation, or, at least, as simple as an answer one could distill from such madness: Erik clung to Christine like that because he was clinging to the very idea of life itself. The moment he coiled those bone-licked hands of his into the threads of her skirt was the moment he finally managed to wrap his soul around Christine’s very own.

All Imaginable Pangs

(Erik/OC, Rated M. Leroux-based. Pre-canon angst, smut, and art.)

Augustine had tasted so many pleasures in her little life—the love and respect of men born to stations high above her, the sweet sting of champagne upon her tongue, the most beautiful vistas Europe had to offer to those with enough money to spare. But as her maid welcomed her into the vestibule of the charming quarters she kept on Rue Oberkampf, she was reminded yet again of what she treasured more than anything else: her loneliness.

Le Phénomène

(Erik/Christine, Rated M. Leroux-based AU. Fluff, smut, and misunderstandings!)

It was the sort of July night where sweat and vapor mingled so heavily in the air that one could not tell where skin ended and the night began—the sort of humidity that ruined hair and silk and any appetite for labor. The sort of heat that chased millionaire and milliner alike out of their homes, for want of distraction and respite, forcing all to collide against one another until that great heap of Paris was nothing more than a thrumming mass of mischief.

Between the Lines

(Erik/Christine, Rated M. Leroux-based. Angst, BDSM, and flirtations with Dead Dove Do Eat territory.)

The most remarkable aspect of Christine’s captivity was how utterly unremarkable it had been. The immensely peculiar circumstances of her abduction, which had left her with a little more than a miasma of resentment, anger, and pity, had faded into something that almost resembled a normal waking life. For a man who swore to lay heaven and earth at her feet, who had cloaked the initial months of their relationship in the most absurd deceit and mystery, Erik had been a downright mundane captor.

The Follies

(Erik, All Ages. Leroux-based crossover with the Stephen Sondheim musical Sunday in the Park with George. Post-canon fee-fees and lots of hope.)

The monster was bored.

The so-called Palais Garnier was long finished, and President MacMahon’s clique of ministers and prefects were more than happy to have finally wiped their hands of the project’s costly nature, content to descend from on high every few years to gift the company with an endowment from their vast coffers; to think of how the management balked at a mere 20,000 francs!

All That is Solid Melts into Air

(Erik/Christine, All Ages. Leroux-based modern AU where Erik is reincarnated as one of those inflatable tube men. It is the dumbest thing I have ever written.)

From the moment he first gained consciousness, pain and derision was all the monster knew. The hooting of children and idiots. Being forced to sleep outside in all manner of weather, barring a hurricane warning or a flash flood. The constant barrage of rocks and pebbles and trash that rained down upon him; he’d once been pelted in the face by a Slurpee cup so hard that, had he a nose, he was sure it would have shattered to smithereens on impact. It was better, he supposed, than the used diaper that took out one of his comrades earlier that winter. The thought of that particular disaster made the monster shake with fear, moreso than usual.

Tagging @ladystormcrow @box5intern @shinyfire-0 @ashadeintheshade @lincolnlogger @phannah--montana @paperandsong @flora-gray and anyone who wants to join in. My apologies for any double-tagging!

#the phantom of the opera #poto #fanfic #christine daae #erik #christine x erik

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gloriousbouquetlove · 4 months

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Far Cry Cradle

After the events of the war started by Lucis Kingdom, only those humans who helped defeat the silver owls were allowed to stay in the Briar Kingdom.

But after 400 years a peace treaty has finally been signed between the Briar Kingdom and the neighboring countries. A truly important moment that marked fairies and humans alike.

And it was a really stressful time for the Draconia family, especially for Levan, the kingdom's current king and minister of peace. The poor man was locked in his office for several weeks signing papers and sending letters to all the neighboring kingdoms. His wife and son had to forcibly drag him out to take a break.

It was also difficult for Lilia, after all she was the right hand of Queen Meleanor Draconia, and had to be by her side at all times. And he had to endure his queen's outbursts of anger when a neighboring kingdom imposed somewhat inopportune conditions.

But finally everyone could take a well-deserved rest.

Lilia went to her home, a small cabin far from the capital, which she built with her partner several years ago. He already wanted to arrive, to finally be able to lie down in his bed and fall asleep embraced with his beloved wife and his dear...

“¡BUA, BUA!”

That cry could be heard outside the cabin, a cry that I knew very well and that I missed a lot, with the whole treaty thing. Lilia hardly had time to spend with her family. But now he's going to fix that.

Without wasting any more time, the fairy flew to the window of the room he shared with his beloved and was able to see his wife and his little son.

Leia stood next to the crib, worryingly rocking the baby back and forth.

"What's wrong Silver, are you hungry?... No, maybe it's your diaper?... Also, did you lose your blanket?... No, here it is, my sweet Silver, what do you need?"

“Maybe a lullaby would help.”

Both the woman and the baby were surprised to hear that familiar voice.

“Lilia, you came back”

“Hello my love, I see that you have some problems putting our little one to sleep.”

“Yes, it's been like this these days and I don't know why…”

“Baba…Baba”

The little boy stretched out his little hands towards his father while a cute little smile formed on his face.

“Oh how cute, apparently he's very happy to see you.”

“Khee hee, I see it”

Lilia approached Leia and extended her arms, she understood what she wanted, and carefully placed Silver in her father's arms.

The baby was very happy, babbling incoherent words while playing with his father's long hair.

But it was already too late, so without further ado the fairy began to sing:

A warm cradle

Starlight and joy

My eyes are watching over you still,

let’s be together

With no fear,

even if we wake from this dream

Sleep, sleep,

my beloved child

In dreams,

I pray you would be guided

to walk toward the light

When the song came to an end, the little one was already asleep, being careful not to wake the baby, Lilia placed him in his crib.

A warmth filled the fairy's heart when she saw how her son slept, he looked so cute and fragile, but every day the little boy grew more and he knew that in the future he would become someone strong and independent who would protect his loved ones.

The feeling of being hugged from behind took him out of his thoughts, his beloved rested her head on his shoulder and also watched as his baby slept.

“He really missed you.”

“I missed him too, I missed them both.”

The fairy turned around and looked the human in the eyes.

“I love you beast”

No matter how many times she heard those words, they always made her heart jump for joy.

“I love you too Lilia”

Without saying another word, Leia sealed her lips with Lilia's, and they melted into the kiss.

Lilia was finally home.

(I'm sorry if you don't understand, English is not my first language).

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padded-daydreams · 11 months

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Agere diaper culture is wanting to get adult diapers but not being abel to because shipping is really exspensiv to your country and u cant get them in fisical stores because they dont sell them at all were u live so u have to make do with pull ups that are actually for kids :,)

This is not @ageredips-culture-is, however, I do have some resources to help with this! I do not know where you are located, and sadly most of my resources are for Europe, but this may help!

Nappies R Us (UK)

Diaper Minister (France, Europe)

Save Express (Germany)

Cuddle Kingdom (The Netherlands)

Omutopia (Japan)

Crinklz (Germany)

#💚 ask about diapers #ageredips culture is #ageredips #padded agere #sfw diaper wearing #anon ask #ask response #ask answered

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hardeynyhun · 1 year

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His Curvy Obsession.

Prologue

'No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.’ —

William Shakespeare.

"Do you take Angelina Adenike Walters as your lawful wife?" the minister asked.

"I do," he replied curtly, looking at nothing in particular as his eyes void any emotions he was feeling.

The minister turned to the bride and asked, "do you take Nathaniel Xander Hugh as your lawful husband?" her heart skipped a little, staring at her unresponsive husband-to-be face before responding in a crooked voice, "I do."

"With the power of God, I declare both of you as husband and wife. You may kiss your bride," the minister pronounced.

Her stranger husband moved to her slowly, opened her white veil a little as he tilted his head to the right side, and she closed her eyes expectantly, waiting for his cold lips to hers, but a gush of air passed through her face.

She fluttered, and her eyes opened to know what was delaying him, but she was left alone at the altar, humiliated.

He left her.

She was just a replacement.

*****

Chapter 1

People always say first love is a lesson, but last love is true love, and Nathaniel did not believe it because his first and last love was Clara Adrian.

His only woman.

Clara was the granddaughter of his nanny —Mrs. Adrian. He and Clara practically grew up together from diapers, and they went to the same schools. And they'd promised to get married when they grow up till old together with their child(ren).

She was mine, and I was hers only. He thought, smiling cheekily while twirling the diamond ring.

All his reasons and actions revolved around her. Anything she wanted or said, he agreed to it without batting an eyelash because she was the only one who understood him better, and he loved her so much with every fibre of his being. She was like the oxygen he breathed in.

His twenty-six birthday was a fortnight ago, and she told him she was ready to become his lawful wife, and he proposed to her, feeling over the moon. She was a strong believer in sex before marriage, and he vowed to keep himself a v**** for her, but that didn't stop him from masturbating when the s***** urge was too much to bear.

Who doesn't have dirty secrets? He grinned.

She was a beautiful innocent soul whose smiles radiated through his whole body, giving him purpose, yet he knew the love of his life was dr**-addicted, and he loved her with her flaws.

What's the essence of loving someone if you can't stand the person's flaws? He always replied to anyone asking why he was with a dr** addict. Maybe his love for her was blind and clouded his rational thought.

He talked to his parents about his marriage to her, and his parents opposed it because she was not who he thought she was, but when he threatened to leave the household and everything, he made his parents support him. He was the only child, the coolest of their eyes. And he used that line a lot to let his parents agree to his will. The perk of being the only child, he smirked inwardly.

He didn't understand why his parents did not like Clara, maybe because she was from the lower class or she loved to spend all his money on shopping and to buy the latest dress, but he didn't care because he would have spent the whole world on her.

They'd been preparing for their wedding, and she wanted theirs to be the number one wedding that no other could meet in the nearest century.

He let Clara do everything she thought was right, and she picked his suit, venue, and everything. He wanted everything to be to her taste and likes. She invited almost all the celebrities and paparazzi. She wanted to be the talk of the town. Who was he to say no to her?

Sweat was dripping from his body because of the nervousness and giddiness that he was feeling. He couldn't believe it when she agreed to marry him after so much wait and persuasion.

The maids were running to and fro to carry orders given to them as he dressed in his Armani suit. He couldn't wait for tonight, and he would split her cunt. He was going to rampage her and feed her with his seed, he thought, feeling himself getting hard while he tried to adjust his shaft between his tight pants as he awkwardly touched his tie, checking whether his shaft was not visible.

He scolded himself to stop those naughty thoughts, be patient and wait for the real thing tonight.

As he was going out, a little boy bumped into him and handed him a brown envelope before he smiled cheekily at him and ran out hurriedly.

He smiled and looked at the envelope warily, feeling a sense of foreboding before opening it.

Dear natty boy,

No time for greetings, boy.

Don't wait for me at the altar today because I'm already on my way to meet the love of my life. It was fun fooling you around with Ken because he's not my distant cousin but the father of the child I'm carrying. You are too innocent for me, and I need a wild and rough guy to handle me well, especially his huge ****, but—

I just wanted to inform you that I've transferred $10 million from your account. I know you won't feel it is missing. I hope you don't search for me because I'm already long gone. I don't love you.

Don't cry too much natty boy. She was crying, baby mama boy.

I don't love you.

I can't marry you because you are not the man for me, and I don't think you can handle me very well in bed. And I don't do *******, also.

And thanks for being my money machine. I and my love enjoyed lavishing it.

Xxx

Yours Clarabear.

"No," he mumbled in denial, feeling his chest constricted as he crumpled the paper on his fist in anger. His phone vibrated in a notification. He took it out and saw the debit alert from the bank. He smashed his phone on the ground, and he tugged his tie away.

"No," he shook his head, scattering all the flower vases on the floor to which the sound resonated; angry curses left his lips as he hit his fist on the wall. He crumbled on the ground, reminiscing what he ever did wrong to justify this rejection, lies and betrayal. His eyes clouded with unfathomable rage; what did she want that he'd never given her? She left him for a skinny guy. His heart shattered in pieces with betrayals as his eyes were filled red-blooded with fury for retaliation, feeling the immense throbbing from his head around his body.

She left him.

She lied.

His mom ran in and took in his dishevelled form, kneeling beside him disheartened, "mom," he called out in a shaky voice, his body trembling in anger, "she left me," he mumbled, gritting his teeth. He wanted to strangle someone, and he wanted to unleash the fury of the betrayal running in his bloodstream. "Mom, it hurts," he said, blood trickling down his fist.

"Baby, it's okay," His mother whispered, taking his bloodied hand as she continued to humming her soothing melody to calm him while she removed the white ribbon she used to bound her hair. She wrapped it on it to stop the blood.

"People are waiting in the..." his father trailed off as he looked at him with a void expression. He knew what his father was thinking.

"Call off the wedding," his mother said softly, wiping the tears from her eyes and sniffing.

"No, mom," he stopped her, holding her as he picked up the ring with determination. "We are doing the wedding," he enunciated, standing up on his legs. She wanted him to be embarrassed on a joyous day, but he would show her her feeble attempts were useless to him.

"We need a replacement," he said while everyone stared at him worriedly.

Chapter 2

She was running, and she had been running, l her life; everything was falling apart. Her apartment fee had been due for the last six months, and the landlord wasn't heeding her pleas. She could not live on the street, and this State wasn't like her father's country, where she could get accessible apartments anytime or anywhere.

She was given a scholarship at the State University for the last four years, and she was very excited, but if she'd known this was what she would be facing, she would have stayed with her father in her father's country. Well, this State was her mother's, which made her biracial.

Her life had been jumbled-mess since she arrived in this country; she was easily judged by her brown skin colour.

She didn't have a real job apart from freelancing for lazy youths. And that wasn't paying her much. They judged her skin colour and her father's nationality, not her brain then, they were men who always had their lustful gaze on her curve, which she hated, but she couldn't do anything.

She was tired, and she was running out of money. She could not call her father because her father was the same as her. A working-class being striving to feed. And her mother was a no-go-area because she did not know who her mother was or where she lived. Whenever she asked her father, he always ended up in tears, which always broke her heart.

She hated her mother because she wasn't been part of her life since she was young.

She wasn't there when she needed her the most.

She wasn't there to talk to her about her periods.

She wasn't there to talk to her about boys.

It was only her father she knew, her father covered both roles, but there was still a part of her that yearned for motherly love.

She hummed a tune her father used to sing to her whenever she was depressed or down as she walked around with a towel wrapped tightly around her body. She walked towards her Ghana must go* - (a woven luggage bag) to pick an old faded jean skirt and blue polo as her only friend - Belle, barged in, searching for Angelina until her brown eyes met Angelina's grey ones before she squealed happily at her and crushed her in a bear hug.

Isabella or Belle was a half-Japanese friend with short blond hair, and they met at the school functions on the first day of resumption in university. She was trying to find the hall when she collided with her friend's petite body, which made them fall to the ground. They both groaned before staring at one another and laughing out loud. They both exchanged numbers, and since then, they have become tight buddies.

"Babe, I've got you a job," Belle chirped, stealing one of her fries that she left on the nightstand beside her messy bed before slumping on the floor. She swatted Belle's hand away when she stretched her hand to steal another fries.

When Angelina's brain comprehended what her friend had said before stealing her fries, she screeched, "you got me a job?" she asked.

"Yeah, babe," Belle winked at her, "I told you," she smirked with a sly grin.

"What does the work pertain to?" she asked enthusiastically before feeling down and sighing.

"What happened, sugar? Aren't you happy? But—" Belle frantically asked, and she interrupted her.

"Nothing," she replied dismissively, "The uniform code?"

"Just put on pants and a shirt," Belle answered, crawling towards Angelina's bag, unzipping it as she started to rampage through it. She was taking out a dress, looking at it before throwing it away to take another one.

"I'm not putting on pants!" Angelina tutted, "my curves are going to be visible, and I don't want unwanted attention to myself," she added downcasted.

Belle pinched the bridge of her nose, she didn't know how many times she would lecture her friend to love herself with her curvy body, but no, her insecurities were too high.

"Babe—"She dragged slowly, "if I was the one who has this shape of you," Belle's eyes roamed on Angelina's hourglass body, shaking her head, "I swear I'll be f***ing walking in lingerie," she said sultrily. "Or if I was a guy," she stared at her sed*ctively as she wetted her lips sensually while her brown eyes twinkled with mischief, "Imma f*** you to oblivion state," she added impishly.

"Now, let's change, babe," she squealed, picking the outfit Angelina wore on last year's Thanksgiving, checking it only to dump it down.

Most of Angelina's dresses were second-hand graded, and she didn't have the money to buy new dresses. Every last Monday of the month, she went to the mall to purchase a dress. Well, Belle always made her shop with her and bought her some lasting dresses which she rarely wore except for important occasions.

"I hope it's not a stripping job you got me because I'm not interested," Angelina voiced her opinion. After all, she knew her best friend. It could be a strip club that got her a job, and she had been bugging her to apply for one, but Angelina being Angelina, was not comfortable and confident about showing her body.

"Oh," Bell's mouth was agape, pouting her lips, "you are supposed to trust me on this," she scrunched her nose, "if it were a club I'm talking about, I would have just kidnap you to Victoria secret palace for that d" "ty, naughty and s**tty lingerie," she wiggled her brows bashfully before facing what she was doing

"I think you should wear this," she heard Bella's voice, holding a cocktail gown before she threw it away.

"No," Belle murmured to herself before picking another dress, "I think this will do," she scrutinised her eyes on the A-shape skirt only to throw it away again. She stuck her tongue between her lips in a concentration way as she brought out all her dresses in the bag, scattering them on the floor before taking them back, turning them upside down, and then throwing them away.

"I can't seem to find it—" She trailed off before screaming excitedly, "I see it!" bouncing up and down.

She handed Angelina the black fitted knee-length gown, ushering her to change because they were getting late.

Angelina entered the kitchen and changed into the gown her friend selected, brewing a coffee to calm her nervousness. She applied oil to her wavy brown thick hair brushed it together, and put it in a ponytail. She used her lips gloss and called Uber to take her to where the wedding was located.

A day waitress.

Just to serve food for the guests. And a serving costs $5.

If I am to serve a hundred guests, that means I'm taking $500 home. She thought happily. She was already analysing how she was going to spend the money.

The Uber arrived at the destination, killing off the engine. As she got down from the car, a woman in her early forties who looked distressed came to her and dragged her to another direction where there were fewer people.

The woman stopped when they entered a room and locked the door at the back while she took a moment to catch her breath.

"Ma'am, I'm Angelina. I'm here—" The petite woman waved her hand, interrupting her as the woman scrutinised her gaze on her before her lips stretched widely.

"You are someone I need—No—We need," the woman smiled uneasily.

"Oh?"

The woman's hands trembled while looking disheartening. Angelina took her time to recheck the woman, and she noticed that the woman's brows wrinkled as if she was in deep thought and distress.

"Ma'am—" She tried to call the woman, but the woman grabbed both her hands urgently.

"I want your help, and I shall pay you handsomely," the distress could be heard in her soft voice.

"Ma?"

"The bride left my son today, and we need a replacement. So name your price?"

"What?" Angelina asked, feeling annoyed. What did the woman take her for? She thought.

"$5 million?" she asked while Angelina's jaw nearly dropped on the floor. Her body was immobilised because her brain couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"$10 million?"

"....."

"$20 million?"

"Ma'am!" Angelina practically screamed at her, "I don't know what you want me to do, but I don't want your money," she stated firmly while the woman sighed in relief.

The woman touched her chubby cheeks lovingly, "like I've known you aren't like her," the woman mumbled.

"Just marry my son for a year, and after that, you could divorce," the woman explained.

"Okay," Angelina responded.

Chapter 3

"Okay," she responded in a weak voice, thinking of the pros and cons of the situation. It was a win-win situation. I get a house to stay in, and he gets a wife to marry. And it's only for a year. Free food and shelter, She thought.

"Good," the woman clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh my," the woman's eyes widened dramatically, using her hand to cover her mouth while Angelina stared at her, "sorry for my lack of manners," the woman smiled shyly.

"Uhn?"

"I'm Jasmine Hugh," she introduced herself, holding her hand out for Angelina to shake.

Angelina rubbed her hands together nervously before accepting the woman's open hand, "I'm Angelina Walters," she responded. Jasmine smiled to the fullest and dragged her again to another room, pushed her in, and then locked the door at the back.

"This is the bride," she announced enthusiastically while Angelina looked at her. Did she mean it?

"Oh," three guys came out behind the curtains, twirling her around, staring at her in fascination.

"How I wish I had these assets," a ginger-headed guy said in a high-pitched voice while she mentally cringed. He wore a black baggy knicker, a white polo that hugged his fitted abs, and black sneakers.

"Oh! Nicky, look at those boobs,'' she felt self-conscious, kicked in and brought her hands to cover her already-covered chest only to be swatted by a blond-haired guy. He wore a blue short sleeves shirt with a neck collar flared up. He wore yellow baggy shorts, which Versace had printed on them while putting on Oscars.

"Ricky, the third guy with black hair, whined, "you are embarrassing the lady," he said, smiling charmingly, showing his prominent dimples while Nicky cooed, and Ricky couldn't help himself not to pinch her cheek.

"Sorry, M'lady," the blond-headed guy — Ricky, said without meaning it with the mischievous twinkling in his eyes. "I'm Dicky,'' the black-haired guy said, holding his hand out gentlemanly. Angelina put her hand on his as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her on it, "while the other fools are my brothers," He wore Harry Potter's glass which made him stand out from his brothers.

"Well, we are the little triple-triple triplet," the ginger-haired guy — Nicky grinned.

"It's okay with the introduction," Jasmine clapped her hands dismissively.

"Aye, mistress," they said in unison dramatically, offering their invisible hats.

"Now, let's take you over and make him head over hills," Ricky screeched and dragged her to the chair.

Dicky went behind the curtains to retrieve the wedding dress, "I think this white colour would be the best. It's as innocent as she's," he chirped, dancing around with the long dress.

"I can't believe it, and we are the ones who will dress the future Lady of the Hugh family."

"Now," Ricky paused a little, staring at the flustered lady before grinning slyly, "Undr***," his eyes shone naughtiness.

"What?" Angelina stuttered, using her hands to cover her body.

"How are we going to dress you if you don't strip out from this dress," he narrowed his eyes at her while she shook her head adamantly.

Dicky sighed, "Ricky, can you please leave the poor girl alone?"

"I can't," Ricky pouted, "I just love her; she's now my favourite girl."

Nicky opened the box full of lingeries, took out one, and gave it to her to change into, pushing her into the changing room.

She entered the room, locking the door firmly, looking everywhere for holes where others could peep to watch her. When she found none, she sighed and slumped her stiff shoulders.

She stared at the white lingerie with her and blushed furiously, her cheeks and ears coated red.

The ling*rie was made of rich, lightweight silk, stretching with decorative fabric flowers at the bosom. The chemise fit snugly and skimmed around her body, hitting the mid-thigh. And cupped her breasts firmly, giving them extra chest support. The lingerie was different from the one she had seen because it drew more attention to her waist and hips. She looked at the mirror in the room and lowered her gaze immediately because it made her feel like a seductress.

She took her dress and used it to cover herself before gracing the awaiting triplet's presence.

"Why are you covering those assets?" Ricky exclaimed, pouting his lips. He could not understand why she wasn't proud of her body. Millions of models and wealthy ladies visited their shop for the body she had. Well, the person who has a head doesn't have a cap, and the person who has a cap doesn't have a head, he thought. Even that bitch- was one per cent of her beauty. Natural beauty with no artificial touch. Rare gem.

When Angelina was inside the room putting in the lingerie, Jasmine had told the triplet to change the wedding dress, not wanting her to wear what the ex-fiance had tried on, though it wasn't her size. So she brought their family dress for her. When she showed the triplets, they nodded in agreement, taking the gown from her as they waited for the lady in the changing room.

Ricky yanked her dress that she used as a shield from her before dragging her to where his brothers were waiting for them. Nicky helped her wear the gown as she felt the length gown kissing the floor. The dress was beautiful, which would be an understatement. It was like a fairy tale as she lowered her head meekly.

"If not, you are getting married today; I would have stolen you away," Nicky got a dreamy look before he was smacked by one of his brothers.

Angelina felt overwhelmed; if someone told her that she would get married in her early twenties, she would have argued or married a stranger without knowing his name. It would be a blatant lie, yet she felt like a princess.

They made her sit on the chair and ordered her softly to close her eyes as they worked on retouching her naturally wavy hair. When they were through, they told her to open her eyes, and she was dumbstruck by the lady she was in the mirror. Her grey eyes were glued with well-curved brows, and her parted lips complimented her small pointed nose, beautified with a designer nose ring.

"Enough of the look," Dicky scolded lightly, "When the lover boy sees you, he won't know what hit him tonight," he smiled while she involuntarily shivered.

"Now remains the glimmer," Nicky said.

The door opened and the groom's mother entered hurriedly, looking at her in shock, "Woah," Jasmine exclaimed, "I know when I see a diamond. Just some little retouch, you become a real aphrodite," she complimented, covering her face with a veil.

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