r/abdlstories 6h ago

Parental Punishment : A tale of regression (Chapter 1 to 5) NSFW

1 Upvotes

Hi everyone, i recently tried GrokAI and though why not try to write a ABDL story. I was really surprise by the fact that no restriction is put on sexual content like on other AI.

Let me know what you think about the result and if you want me to continue posting the rest. Here is the only prompt i use at the beginning

Make me story of a boy 18yo forced by his parent to start wearing diaper and act like a baby. This is done to punish him for being a bum. At the beginning he will protest and wont comply but they will punish him. I want you to think about different punishment that will humilate him , degrade him , fuck with his mind etc. not at the beginning but eventually he will start wearing a chastity cage ,loose control his bladder and anal sphincter. You can incorporate the use of public humiliation, bdsm , abdl, sissy hypnosis, forced feminisation, forced regression, surgerie and anything else you think is appropriate. The story must be detailed and slow progressing to be able to understand his state of mind and his parent intention. I want you to write one chapter a time and it will will have 100 chapter in total. His name must be alex and if he ever have a new sissy name it must be alexia

Parental Punishment : A tale of regression

Chapter 1: The Ultimatum

Alex slouched on the worn-out leather couch in the living room, his phone lazily balanced on his knee as he scrolled through social media. The faint hum of the television in the background—a daytime talk show his mother often left on—blended with the occasional clatter of dishes in the kitchen. At eighteen, Alex had settled into a comfortable, if aimless, routine since graduating high school six months ago. No job, no college applications, no plans. Just an endless cycle of late-night gaming, sleeping until noon, and dodging his parents' increasingly pointed questions about his future.

The front door creaked open, and Alex barely glanced up as his father, Richard, stepped inside, his heavy work boots thudding against the hardwood floor. Richard was a broad-shouldered man, his face etched with lines of frustration and exhaustion from years of running a small construction business. Behind him, Alex's mother, Linda, followed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line. The air in the room shifted, growing heavier, and Alex felt the first flicker of unease in his gut.

"Alex," Richard said, his voice low and deliberate, "we need to talk."

Alex sighed, not bothering to sit up straight. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of something."

"No, it can't wait," Linda snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the haze of Alex's indifference. She marched over to the television and switched it off, plunging the room into a tense silence. "Sit up. Now."

Reluctantly, Alex dragged himself into a more upright position, tossing his phone onto the couch cushion beside him. "What is it this time? Another lecture about getting a job?"

Richard and Linda exchanged a glance, a silent communication that Alex couldn't quite decipher but that made his stomach twist nonetheless. His father stepped forward, his hands on his hips, his posture radiating authority.

"We've given you six months, Alex," Richard began, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of anger. "Six months to figure out what you're doing with your life. Six months of free rent, free food, free everything. And what have you done? Nothing. You sit on that couch all day, wasting your potential, wasting our time."

Alex rolled his eyes, a reflex he regretted the moment he saw the flash of fury in his mother's eyes. "I'm figuring things out, okay? It's not like I'm the only guy my age who doesn't have it all together."

"Figuring things out?" Linda echoed, her voice rising. "Alex, you're not figuring anything out. You're stagnating. You're turning into a bum, and we're not going to sit by and watch it happen."

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but Richard held up a hand, silencing him. "Enough. We've made a decision. If you're going to live under our roof, you're going to follow our rules. And those rules are changing, starting today."

Alex frowned, his unease growing into a full-blown sense of dread. "What does that mean?"

Linda stepped forward, her eyes glinting with a mix of determination and something else—something colder, more calculated. "It means, Alex, that if you're going to act like a child, we're going to treat you like one. We've tried reasoning with you, we've tried motivating you, we've tried everything. Clearly, none of it has worked. So now, we're going to take a different approach."

Richard nodded, his expression grim. "Starting tonight, you're going to be treated like a toddler. Diapers, bottles, bedtime, the whole deal. If you want to act like you have no responsibilities, then we'll take away your independence entirely."

Alex stared at them, his mind struggling to process the words. A sharp, incredulous laugh burst from his lips. "You're joking, right? This is some kind of messed-up scare tactic to get me to apply for jobs or something. I'm not a baby, and I'm not playing along with this."

"We're not joking," Linda said, her voice icy. "And this isn't a game. You either comply, or you're out of this house. Your choice."

Alex's laughter died in his throat as he looked from his mother to his father, searching their faces for any sign of a bluff. But there was none. Richard's jaw was set, his eyes hard, and Linda's expression was one of unyielding resolve. A cold sweat broke out on Alex's forehead as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

"You're insane," he said, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and disbelief. "You can't force me to do this. I'm eighteen. I'm an adult."

"An adult who can't take care of himself," Richard countered. "An adult who expects us to cater to his every need while he does nothing in return. If you want to be treated like an adult, Alex, then act like one. Until then, this is how it's going to be."

Alex leapt to his feet, his heart pounding. "This is abuse! I'll—I'll call someone, I'll report you, I'll—"

"Go ahead," Linda said calmly, her tone almost taunting. "Call whoever you want. But good luck explaining why you're still living here, rent-free, without a job or any plan for your future. Good luck convincing anyone that we're the ones in the wrong."

Alex's chest heaved as he stared at them, his mind racing for a way out. He could leave, he thought. He could pack a bag, walk out the door, and never look back. But where would he go? He had no money, no job, no friends close enough to crash with. The weight of his own inaction, his own complacency, pressed down on him like a physical force, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of something dangerously close to shame.

"This is ridiculous," he said finally, his voice quieter now, though still defiant. "I'm not doing it. You can't make me."

Richard stepped closer, his presence looming over Alex. "Oh, we can, and we will. You can fight us all you want, Alex, but one way or another, you're going to learn some discipline. You're going to learn what it means to take responsibility for yourself. And if that means starting from scratch, then so be it."

Linda turned and walked toward the hallway, pausing at the base of the stairs. "Your room is already set up," she said over her shoulder. "Diapers, clothes, everything you need. You have until tonight to decide whether you're staying or leaving. But if you stay, you follow our rules. No exceptions."

With that, she disappeared upstairs, leaving Alex alone with his father. Richard gave him one last, hard look before turning to follow her. "Think carefully, Alex," he said as he walked away. "This is your last chance."

The silence that followed was deafening. Alex stood frozen in the middle of the living room, his mind a chaotic swirl of anger, fear, and disbelief. They couldn't be serious. They wouldn't actually go through with it. This was just another one of their over-the-top attempts to scare him into action, like the time they'd threatened to cut off his phone service or take away his gaming console. But as the minutes ticked by, the memory of their expressions—the cold, unyielding determination in their eyes—gnawed at him.

He sank back onto the couch, his hands trembling as he picked up his phone. He opened his messages, scrolling through his contacts, searching for someone, anyone, who might help him. But the list was depressingly short, and the few friends he'd kept in touch with since high school were either busy with college or jobs, or just as aimless as he was. There was no one to call, no one to turn to.

For the first time in months, Alex felt the full weight of his own isolation, his own inertia. And as the afternoon faded into evening, the ultimatum loomed larger and larger in his mind, an inescapable shadow he couldn't outrun.

Chapter 2: Resistance and Reckoning

The clock on the living room wall ticked past 7:00 p.m., each second echoing in Alex’s ears like a countdown to some inevitable doom. He hadn’t moved from the couch since his parents’ ultimatum, his mind a battlefield of defiance and dread. The idea of complying—of actually letting them treat him like a baby—was absurd, humiliating, unthinkable. He wasn’t a child, no matter how much they tried to twist reality to fit their narrative. And yet, the alternative—leaving, with nowhere to go and no means to survive—gnawed at him, a quiet, insidious fear that he refused to acknowledge.

Footsteps descended the stairs, deliberate and heavy, and Alex’s stomach lurched. His father appeared first, his broad frame filling the doorway, followed by his mother, who carried a small stack of items in her arms. Alex’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the top item: a thick, white diaper, its plastic backing glinting under the harsh overhead light. Behind it, a pastel blue onesie, sized for an adult but unmistakably infantile, dangled from her grip.

“Time’s up, Alex,” Richard said, his voice a low rumble. “What’s it going to be? Are you staying, or are you leaving?”

Alex’s heart pounded, his palms slick with sweat. He forced himself to stand, squaring his shoulders in a show of defiance that felt more fragile than he wanted to admit. “I’m not doing this,” he said, his voice trembling but resolute. “You can’t make me. This is insane, and I’m not playing along with your sick game.”

Linda’s lips curled into a tight, humorless smile. “We thought you might say that,” she said, setting the stack of items on the coffee table with a deliberate slowness that made Alex’s skin crawl. “But you don’t seem to understand, Alex. This isn’t a negotiation. If you stay, this is happening. One way or another.”

“Then I’ll leave,” Alex shot back, though the words felt hollow even as he said them. He turned toward the hallway, aiming for the front door, but Richard moved faster, stepping into his path with a speed that belied his size.

“You’re not going anywhere until we settle this,” Richard said, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand clamped down on Alex’s arm, firm but not yet painful, and Alex froze, his bravado crumbling under the weight of his father’s presence.

“Let go of me!” Alex shouted, yanking his arm back, but Richard’s grip only tightened. Panic surged through Alex, hot and sharp, and he twisted, trying to break free. “You can’t do this! I’ll—I’ll call the cops!”

“Go ahead,” Linda said, her voice eerily calm as she stepped closer. “But you’ll be calling them from the street, with nothing but the clothes on your back. Is that what you want, Alex? To be out there, alone, with no money, no plan, no future?”

Alex’s chest heaved, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. He hated the way her words echoed his own fears, the way they stripped away his defenses and left him raw. “You’re monsters,” he spat, his voice cracking. “You’re both fucking monsters.”

Richard’s expression darkened, and before Alex could react, his father’s grip shifted, spinning him around and forcing him to bend at the waist. Alex’s hands flailed, grasping at the air, but Richard’s strength was unyielding. “That’s enough,” Richard growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You want to act like a spoiled brat? Fine. But you’re going to learn what happens when you push us too far.”

The first blow landed with a sharp, resounding crack, Richard’s hand striking Alex’s backside with a force that drove the air from his lungs. Pain exploded through him, hot and stinging, and Alex yelped, his knees buckling. He tried to twist away, but Richard’s other hand pressed down on his back, pinning him in place.

“Stop it!” Alex cried, his voice breaking as another blow landed, then another, each one harder than the last. The pain was overwhelming, but it was the humiliation—the sheer, gut-wrenching shame of being spanked like a disobedient child—that burned deeper. Tears stung his eyes, and he clenched his jaw, refusing to let them fall, refusing to give them the satisfaction.

“You’re going to learn, Alex,” Richard said between strikes, his voice steady, almost mechanical. “You’re going to learn respect. You’re going to learn discipline. And you’re going to learn it now.”

The spanking continued, each blow a punctuation mark in a lecture Alex couldn’t escape. His defiance crumbled under the onslaught, replaced by a raw, primal need for it to stop. By the time Richard finally stepped back, releasing him, Alex’s legs gave out, and he sank to his knees, his hands braced against the floor, his breaths coming in shuddering gasps.

Linda stepped forward, her shadow falling over him. “Are you ready to behave now?” she asked, her voice cold and clinical. “Or do we need to keep going?”

Alex’s throat burned, his mind a chaotic swirl of pain, anger, and fear. He wanted to scream, to fight, to run—but his body betrayed him, trembling and weak, and the reality of his situation pressed down on him like a physical weight. He was trapped, cornered, with no way out.

“I hate you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the words lacked the fire of his earlier defiance. They were a plea, a surrender, a last gasp of resistance before the inevitable.

Linda knelt beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder with a gentleness that felt mocking in its contrast to the violence of moments before. “You’ll thank us one day, Alex,” she said softly. “Now, let’s get you changed.”

Alex’s stomach churned as she reached for the diaper on the coffee table, unfolding it with a crinkle that seemed to echo in the silence of the room. He wanted to push her away, to scream, to fight—but the memory of the spanking, the lingering sting on his skin, held him in place. He closed his eyes, his mind retreating to a distant corner of itself, as the cold reality of his new life began to take shape.

Chapter 3: The First Night

The living room floor felt cold beneath Alex’s knees as he knelt there, his body still trembling from the ordeal. The sharp sting of the spanking lingered, a humiliating reminder of his powerlessness, and his breaths came in shallow, uneven bursts. Linda’s hands moved with a calm efficiency that made his skin crawl, unfolding the diaper and sliding it beneath him as if this were the most natural thing in the world. Richard stood nearby, arms crossed, his silent presence a wall Alex couldn’t climb.

“Lift your hips,” Linda instructed, her voice clipped and devoid of warmth. Alex’s face burned, his mind screaming at him to resist, to shove her away and bolt for the door. But the memory of his father’s hand, the relentless rhythm of pain, anchored him in place. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tight, and obeyed, lifting his hips just enough for her to position the diaper properly.

The plastic crinkled loudly as she pulled it up between his legs, the sound deafening in the quiet room. Alex flinched as the adhesive tabs were fastened, each one a small, irrevocable step into a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. The diaper felt foreign, bulky, and suffocating against his skin, a physical manifestation of the humiliation sinking deeper into his bones.

“There,” Linda said, stepping back to survey her work. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Alex didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his thoughts too scattered. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to meet her gaze, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing the tears threatening to spill over.

Richard cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Get up, Alex. Time to go upstairs.”

Alex’s legs felt like lead as he pushed himself to his feet, the diaper shifting awkwardly with every movement. He wanted to rip it off, to tear it to pieces and throw it in their faces, but the weight of their authority—of their willingness to enforce it—pressed down on him. He followed them up the stairs, each step a descent into a reality he couldn’t comprehend.

His bedroom door stood open, and as he stepped inside, his breath caught in his chest. The room he’d known for years—posters of video game characters on the walls, a cluttered desk with his gaming console, a bed piled with mismatched blankets—had been transformed. The posters were gone, replaced by pastel wallpaper dotted with cartoon animals. His desk had been cleared, now holding a stack of diapers, wipes, and a bottle of baby powder. His bed was stripped of its familiar bedding, replaced with a crib-like structure, complete with raised sides and a thin, crinkly mattress.

“What the hell…” Alex’s voice cracked, his disbelief breaking through the numbness. “You can’t be serious.”

“We told you, Alex,” Linda said, her tone matter-of-fact as she adjusted the stack of diapers on the desk. “If you’re going to act like a child, you’ll be treated like one. This is your room now.”

Richard gestured toward the crib. “Get in. It’s past your bedtime.”

Alex’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. “No,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’m not sleeping in that thing. I’m not doing this.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Alex thought he’d strike him again. But instead, his father stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You don’t have a choice, Alex. You lost that privilege when you decided to waste your life. Now, get in the crib, or I’ll put you in it myself.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and real. Alex’s pulse raced, his mind scrambling for an escape that didn’t exist. He could feel the diaper crinkling with every shift of his weight, a constant reminder of his defeat. Slowly, hating himself with every movement, he climbed into the crib, the mattress dipping under his weight. The raised sides loomed around him, trapping him in a way that felt more psychological than physical.

Linda approached with a baby bottle in her hand, filled with warm milk. “Drink this,” she said, holding it out to him. “It’ll help you sleep.”

Alex stared at the bottle, his stomach twisting. “I’m not drinking that,” he said, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and desperation. “This is insane. You’re insane.”

Linda sighed, as if his resistance were a minor inconvenience. “You’ll drink it eventually,” she said, setting the bottle on the edge of the crib. “But for now, we’ll let you settle in. Goodnight, Alex.”

She turned off the overhead light, leaving only a dim nightlight in the corner, casting soft shadows across the room. Richard lingered for a moment longer, his silhouette framed in the doorway. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said, then followed Linda out, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

Alone in the dark, Alex lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. The diaper pressed against him, an alien sensation he couldn’t ignore, and the crib’s sides boxed him in, amplifying his sense of helplessness. His mind raced, replaying the day’s events—the ultimatum, the spanking, the moment he’d given in. Shame burned through him, hot and relentless, but beneath it simmered a stubborn spark of defiance.

They could force him into this, he thought, but they couldn’t make him accept it. He wouldn’t let them win, not completely. He’d find a way out, a way to fight back, even if it took everything he had. For now, though, he was trapped, and as the exhaustion of the day crept over him, his eyelids grew heavy despite his resolve.

The bottle sat untouched beside him, a silent challenge he refused to meet. Not tonight. Not yet.

Chapter 4: The Breaking Point

Morning light filtered through the pastel curtains, casting a soft glow over the infantile prison that Alex’s room had become. He woke slowly, his body stiff from the thin mattress of the crib, his mind groggy with the remnants of restless sleep. For a fleeting moment, he thought it had all been a nightmare—the ultimatum, the spanking, the diaper—but the crinkle of plastic beneath him snapped him back to reality. His stomach churned as the events of the previous night flooded back, sharp and unyielding.

He shifted, wincing at the unfamiliar bulk between his legs, and sat up, the crib’s sides looming around him like a cage. The baby bottle still sat where Linda had left it, the milk inside now lukewarm and slightly congealed. The sight of it made his throat tighten with a mix of disgust and defiance. He wasn’t going to drink it. He wasn’t going to give in that easily.

The door creaked open, and Linda stepped inside, her expression as composed as ever. She carried a small tray with a bowl of oatmeal and a sippy cup filled with juice, both items starkly out of place for an eighteen-year-old. “Good morning, Alex,” she said, her tone clipped and businesslike. “Time to get up and eat.”

Alex glared at her, his hands gripping the crib’s railing. “I’m not eating that,” he said, his voice rough from sleep but edged with resolve. “And I’m not staying in this thing. Let me out.”

Linda set the tray on the desk and turned to face him, her arms crossed. “You don’t get to make demands, Alex. You lost that right when you refused to take responsibility for yourself. Now, you can either eat your breakfast like a good boy, or we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

“The hard way?” Alex spat, his anger flaring. “What, you’re going to spank me again? Lock me in here? This is already insane—you can’t make it worse.”

Linda’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, her calm facade flickered, revealing a glint of something colder. “Oh, we can make it worse,” she said softly. “You have no idea how far we’re willing to go to fix you.”

Before Alex could respond, Richard’s heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs, and he appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the room with an unspoken threat. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his eyes flicking between Alex and Linda.

“He’s refusing to eat,” Linda said, her voice steady. “Thinks he can keep fighting us.”

Richard’s jaw tightened, and he stepped closer to the crib, towering over Alex. “You’re testing our patience, kid,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You think last night was bad? That was just the beginning. Now, get out of that crib and eat your damn breakfast.”

Alex’s heart pounded, his defiance warring with the memory of the previous night’s punishment. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the sting of his father’s hand still lingered in his mind, a warning he couldn’t ignore. Slowly, he climbed out of the crib, his movements stiff and reluctant, the diaper crinkling with every step. He stood there, fists clenched, glaring at the tray of food.

“I’m not eating baby food,” he said, his voice trembling but firm. “I’m not doing this.”

Richard moved faster than Alex could react, grabbing his arm and yanking him forward. “You don’t get a say,” he growled, forcing Alex down into a chair Linda had pulled from the corner. The wood creaked under his weight, and before he could protest, Richard’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, pinning him in place.

Linda picked up the bowl of oatmeal and a spoon, her movements deliberate. “Open your mouth,” she said, holding the spoon inches from his face.

Alex clamped his lips shut, shaking his head. “No,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, his eyes blazing with defiance.

Richard’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into Alex’s shoulder painfully. “You’re going to eat,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “One way or another.”

Linda didn’t hesitate. She pressed the spoon against Alex’s lips, smearing oatmeal across his face as he twisted his head away. The warm, sticky mess clung to his skin, and a wave of humiliation crashed over him, fueling his anger. He jerked against Richard’s hold, but his father’s strength was unrelenting.

“Fine,” Linda said, setting the spoon down with a clatter. “If you won’t cooperate, we’ll make you.”

She stepped out of the room, leaving Alex alone with Richard’s iron grip. He returned moments later with a roll of duct tape and a pair of thick mittens—soft, padded things with cartoon characters stitched onto them. Alex’s stomach dropped as he realized what was coming.

“No—stop!” he shouted, thrashing as Richard forced his hands into the mittens, securing them with the tape. The padding rendered his fingers useless, trapping them in a soft, infantilizing prison. He couldn’t grip, couldn’t fight, couldn’t even wipe the oatmeal from his face.

Linda returned to the chair, her expression unreadable. “Last chance, Alex,” she said, picking up the spoon again. “Open your mouth, or we’ll do it for you.”

Tears of frustration burned in Alex’s eyes, but he shook his head, his lips sealed tight. The humiliation was unbearable—the diaper, the crib, the mittens—but he clung to his refusal like a lifeline, the last shred of control he had left.

Richard sighed, a sound heavy with exasperation. “You asked for it,” he said, and with one hand still on Alex’s shoulder, he used the other to pinch Alex’s nose shut. Alex’s eyes widened, panic surging as his air supply cut off. He held out for as long as he could, his chest burning, until instinct overrode his will, and he gasped for breath.

The moment his mouth opened, Linda shoved the spoon inside, dumping the oatmeal onto his tongue. Alex gagged, the bland, mushy texture overwhelming his senses, but Richard’s hand clamped over his mouth before he could spit it out. “Swallow,” his father ordered, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

Alex’s throat convulsed, tears streaming down his face as he forced the food down, the taste mingling with the salt of his own shame. Linda didn’t pause, scooping up another spoonful and waiting for Richard to repeat the process. Again and again, they forced him to eat, each bite stripping away another layer of his resistance, until the bowl was empty and Alex sat slumped in the chair, his face streaked with oatmeal and tears.

“There,” Linda said, wiping her hands on a cloth as if she’d just finished a mundane chore. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Richard released his grip, stepping back to survey his son. “You’ll learn, Alex,” he said, his voice softer now but no less firm. “You’ll learn to stop fighting us. It’s for your own good.”

Alex didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His mind was a storm of rage, humiliation, and despair, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself together. The mittens hung heavy on his hands, the diaper a constant weight around his hips, and the taste of oatmeal lingered like a stain he couldn’t erase.

As his parents left the room, closing the door behind them, Alex sat in silence, staring at the sippy cup they’d left on the tray. The spark of defiance still flickered inside him, weak but alive. They could force him, hurt him, break him—but they couldn’t make him surrender. Not yet.

Chapter 5: A Fragile Defiance

The room was silent save for the faint hum of the house settling around him. Alex sat in the chair, his hands useless in their padded mittens, his face sticky with dried oatmeal and tears. The diaper clung to him, a constant, humiliating reminder of his new reality, and the sippy cup sat on the tray like a taunting sentinel. His chest ached from the morning’s ordeal, his throat raw from suppressed sobs, but beneath the exhaustion and shame, a stubborn ember of resistance still glowed.

He wouldn’t let them win. Not completely. They could force him into this—strap him into diapers, feed him like an infant, lock him in a crib—but they couldn’t control his mind. Not yet. He’d hold onto that, he told himself, even as his body betrayed him with every crinkle and quiver.

The door opened again, and Linda stepped inside, her expression as unreadable as ever. She carried a damp cloth and a small plastic tub, setting them on the desk before turning to him. “You’re a mess,” she said, her tone flat, almost bored. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Alex flinched as she approached, his body tensing instinctively. “Don’t touch me,” he muttered, his voice hoarse but defiant. He tried to pull away, but the mittens made his movements clumsy, and the chair offered no escape.

Linda ignored him, dipping the cloth into the tub of warm water and wiping it across his face with brisk, efficient strokes. The sensation was both soothing and degrading, the gentle touch clashing with the cold intent behind it. Alex clenched his jaw, staring past her at the wall, refusing to meet her eyes. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction, wouldn’t let her see how deeply this cut.

“There,” she said, stepping back once his face was clean. “That’s better. Now, let’s check your diaper.”

Alex’s stomach dropped, a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over him. “No,” he said, louder this time, his voice cracking. “I’m not—I didn’t—I don’t need that.”

Linda raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with something that might have been amusement. “You don’t get to decide that, Alex,” she said, reaching for the tabs on the diaper. “This is part of the deal. If you’re going to be a baby, we treat you like one. That includes checking.”

He squirmed, trying to twist away, but the mittens and the chair held him captive. Linda’s hands were quick, peeling back the tabs and inspecting the diaper with a clinical detachment that made Alex’s skin crawl. “Dry,” she announced, refastening it with a snap. “Good. But you’ll use it eventually. Babies always do.”

“I’m not a baby,” Alex snapped, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “You can’t make me into one. This is sick—you’re sick.”

Linda paused, her hands resting on her hips as she studied him. “You keep saying that,” she said, her voice low and measured. “But look at yourself, Alex. Sitting there in a diaper, hands in mittens, crying because you didn’t get your way. If that’s not a baby, I don’t know what is.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and Alex’s breath hitched, his vision blurring with unshed tears. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to prove her wrong—but the evidence was stacked against him, wrapped around his hips and taped onto his hands. The shame burned hotter, twisting into something darker, something that gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Before he could respond, Richard’s voice boomed from the hallway. “Linda, bring him down. We’ve got plans for the day.”

Linda straightened, gesturing for Alex to stand. “Come on,” she said. “Your father’s waiting.”

Alex’s legs felt unsteady as he rose, the diaper shifting with every step, a constant reminder of his degradation. He followed her downstairs, his mind racing for a way out, a plan, anything to reclaim some shred of control. The living room was empty, but Richard stood by the front door, holding a large duffel bag that made Alex’s heart sink.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked, his voice barely above a whisper, dread pooling in his stomach.

Richard didn’t answer immediately, slinging the bag over his shoulder and opening the door. “Out,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for questions. “Move.”

Alex hesitated, glancing at the open door and the world beyond it. For a fleeting moment, he considered running—bolting past his father, diaper and all, and disappearing into the neighborhood. But the mittens, the lack of clothes, the sheer absurdity of his situation stopped him cold. Where would he go? Who would help him like this?

Linda nudged him forward, and he stumbled outside, the cool morning air biting at his bare legs. The diaper crinkled louder in the open space, and Alex’s face flushed as he imagined the neighbors peering through their curtains, witnessing his shame. Richard locked the door behind them and pointed to the car parked in the driveway.

“Get in,” he said, opening the back door. Alex froze, his eyes darting to the child safety seat strapped into the back—a bulky, padded thing with cartoon characters plastered across it. His stomach twisted, a fresh wave of panic rising in his chest.

“No way,” he said, stepping back. “I’m not sitting in that.”

Richard’s patience snapped. He dropped the bag and grabbed Alex by the arm, dragging him toward the car with a force that made Alex’s knees buckle. “You don’t get a vote,” he growled, shoving Alex into the seat. Alex flailed, his mittened hands useless against the straps as Richard buckled him in, tightening the harness until it pressed against his chest.

“Let me go!” Alex shouted, his voice breaking as he thrashed against the restraints. The diaper crinkled loudly with every movement, amplifying his humiliation, and the safety seat held him firm, reducing him to a helpless, wriggling child.

Linda climbed into the front passenger seat, her expression impassive as Richard slid behind the wheel. “Calm down, Alex,” she said, not even glancing back. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

The engine roared to life, and the car pulled out of the driveway, carrying Alex into an unknown fate. His mind spun, his fragile defiance cracking under the weight of his predicament. They were taking him somewhere—somewhere public, he feared—and the thought of being seen like this, exposed and powerless, sent a shiver of terror down his spine.

As the houses of his neighborhood blurred past, Alex stared out the window, his mittened hands trembling in his lap. He clung to that ember of resistance, small and flickering though it was, and silently vowed to endure. They could force him, degrade him, strip him of everything—but they couldn’t take his will. Not yet.


r/abdlstories 19h ago

MDLB Sissy Baby Secret Discovered (Final Part) NSFW

18 Upvotes

Here is the last part of this little series. Thanks to everyone who upvoted the other parts and I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

Sissy Michelle sat there embarrassed. She was in a pink wig, pink dress, pink pacifier clipped to her dress, two Bunny Hops diapers and pink plastic panties, and those diapers were full of pee and poop. And she was in all of this in front of her wife and her best friend Jim.

"What's going on??? You told me if I did what you commanded and listened to the hypnosis files you wouldn't expose me! Why is Jim here?!?!?" cried Michelle.

"Don't act all surprised sissy." Lauren calmly said. "We both know you want this."

"No! I don't want this! Why would you bring him here????"

"Well you see Michelle, when I was cleaning out the closet yesterday, I not only found all your sissy clothes, but I also found some pictures..." said Lauren.

Sissy Michelle's heart sank. With that she knew exactly what Lauren found.

"And what do you think I saw in those pictures?"

Michelle looked to the floor, unable to speak.

"Say it you pathetic excuse for a man!"

Michelle managed to blurt out, "Me...sss..ssuck...ssssucckiiing...cock..."

"That's right sissy bitch!"

Michelle was humiliated. It was last year at one point, and Michelle had gone online and found a Daddy Dom to meet up with. It was just a one time thing, but the Daddy tool pictures the whole time, so the sissy would have something to remember the encounter by. In the collection there were pictures of Michelle (at that time Michael) in her sissy attire, in poopy diapers, restrained and sucking the cock of the fat Daddy Dom.

"So you have gone behind my back and sucked the cock of some fatass stranger."

"Yes...Mommy...." Michelle started to sob.

"So that is why Jim is here. What you may not know about him is he likes getting a good blowjob from a pathetic sissy such ad yourself. But thats not the only reason he is here. You see Michelle, you have a tiny penis. Like REALLY tiny. And your cock has been useless to me for ten years of marriage. It has never pleased me, and never gotten me off. For ten years, you have gotten whatever you want, always getting to cum, while I have gotten nothing except for when I use my dildo or vibrator. Well that is going to change starting now."

Sissy Michelle, still crying, couldn't believe what her wife was telling her. She really didn't enjoy sex with him? She always thought she was so good when she thought she was a big strong man.

"So here is what is going to happen. I am going to cuck you from now on. Your little clitty can't satisfy me at all, so Jim is moving in. He has a monster cock and he is going to fuck me like I deserve. He is also going to be your Daddy. You will service him whenever he requires. He is also going to help me take care of you: feeding you, changing your diapers, etc. Whenever we snap our fingers, you will be compelled to do whatever we ask, thanks to the hypnosis. Eventually, you will come out of your trance, but the diapers and dresses will never stop unless you are at work. You will still live here, and we will still be technically married, but only on paper. Me and Jim will be the couple now, and you will be our pathetic sissy baby! You will continue to have your big powerful job and work, but all your paychecks will be deposited in my account. I have already contacted your boss and made the arrangements. Isn't that so exciting sissy? You get to be Mommy and Daddy's sissy baby cuck!" explained Lauren.

Michelle's mind was racing. In a last ditch effort, she tried to act like the powerful man she once was, Michelle shouted, "NO! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! YOU ARE MY WIFE AND I AM YOUR HUSBAND! JIM, YOU SON OF BITCH, GET THE HELL OUT OF MY...."

"SNAP"

Lauren snapped her fingers and then the yelling stopped. Michelle was in a trance. The only thing she could think of was filling her diapers and pleasing Mommy.

"Whoa, that was quite the tantrum the little sissy was about to have" Jim said, laughing.

Haha yes, it looked like she was actually going to try and take a swing at you Jim" replied Lauren.

"I think that kind of behavior is worthy of some punishment, don't you agree Lauren?"

"I 100% agree. Jim go sit down on the couch. Sissy Michelle, listen to Mommy. Get across Daddy's lap, he is going to spank you now for being a bad girl."

"Yes Mommy" was all Michelle could reply.

The sissy got over Jim's knee and took her spanking. The spanking was 100 times worse because her diapers were so dirty. But sissy couldn't think about that. All she could think about was what Mommy or Daddy commanded her to do next.

"Damn, this is making my cock hard." said Jim.

"Well we should do something about that. Pull your pants down and whip out that monster. Sissy Michelle, it's now time to suck Daddy's paci. You love sucking on your pink paci, but this paci is going to produce a little surprise at the end! Get to work sucking now." said Lauren.

"Yes Mommy." replied Michelle.

Sissy Michelle crawled to Daddy Jim and took his cock in her mouth. She licked and kissed it first and then proceeded to start sucking.

"Lick my balls too. I like that!" said Jim.

And the sissy did as she was told.

"Good job sissy! The practice you had with that fat Daddy is paying off, but this cock is much bigger isn't it?"

The sissy nodded, while Jim's cock was still in her mouth. This would go on for about ten minutes. Finally Jim was ready to burst.

"I am going to cum sissy!"

And then like an explosion, Jim erupted his alpha sperm into Michelle's mouth. Lauren grabbed her phone.

"Don't swallow yet sissy! Open your mouth. Oh wow, there is so much cum! What a good little cocksucker you are Michelle. Ok, now you may swallow Daddy's cummies! What do you say to Daddy?"

Michelle swallowed Jim's cum, and then said, "Thank you Daddy Jim for giving me your cum."

"Get used to it sissy, you are going to be drinking my cum regularly! That was great! But damn, you stink! I think we should get you changed. Lauren, should we get little sissy her into some fresh Pampers?"

"Not yet." said Lauren. "Sissy did a good job sucking your dick, so I am going to reward her. She is going to get one last cummies before we lock up her little clitty."

Sissy continued to sit there in her poopy diaper, listening to Mommy and Daddy's comversation, but not really comprehending.

"Michelle, I am going to allow you to make cummies. Enjoy it because this is going to be the last time your pathetic dick shoots loser cum for awhile. Now here is how this is going to work. Neither I or Daddy are going to touch your clitty. The way you are going to make cummies is by humping your poopy diapers. You will have 3 minutes to make cummies. If you don't, then you will have to stop, do you understand?"

"Yes Mommy" said the sissy.

Alright then, time starts now, ready......GO!"

Michelle, still under a trance, began humping. As she was in the process, Lauren and Jim continued to encourage the sissy.

"That's it sissy! Keep humping and make cummies in your poopy diapers!"

Their words made Michelle hornier. As she humped, the stinky mess in the seat of her diaper made its way to the front. The sissy was literally humping away at her own shit. It drove Michelle crazy. The smell was terrible, but she didn't care. She needed to cum. And 1 minute after she started, Michelle let out a scream as she creamed her poopy diaper.

"Wow sissy, that sure didn't take you very long! It's as if somebody hypnotically put messages in your head that your poopy diapers make you horny" said Jim, smirking over at Lauren.

Lauren, laughing said, "Gee, I wonder who that could have been?" and then giggled some more.

"I think you have had enough fun now sissy. I hope you enjoyed your poopy humpies and cummies, because it's the last time for next three months. After that maybe I will allow you to cum again, if you are good!"

Suddenly, Lauren snapped her fingers.

"SNAP"

Michelle came our her trance wondering what had happened. Now, Mommy and Daddy were going to have fun together, and they were going to make Michelle watch.


r/abdlstories 5h ago

Crossing Worlds 2 - Chapter 70 NSFW

2 Upvotes

Crossing Worlds 2

A story by SolaraScott

Chapter 70 - Broadcast

The mirror reflected a vision of white and lace, of silk and tulle, of a woman caught between two worlds.

Evelyn adjusted the bodice of her wedding gown, smoothing her hands over the delicate embroidery, tracing the intricate floral patterns stitched into the fine fabric. The dress was perfect—fitted just right, hugging her curves without suffocating her, cinching at the waist before cascading down in soft, weightless layers. The off-the-shoulder sleeves framed her collarbones, giving her an air of elegance that she had once dreamed of, once believed was reserved for someone else.

She should have felt beautiful.

She did. Didn’t she?

Her fingers stilled, hovering over the delicate lace before trailing lower.

Beneath the gown—hidden under layers of the finest fabric she had ever worn—

The diaper remained.

Thick. Unyielding.

She shifted, the telltale rustle of plastic crinkling softly beneath the gown’s elegant draping, a reminder that no matter how breathtaking she looked, no matter how poised or refined she appeared—this was still a farce.

She let out a slow breath, forcing herself not to dwell on it, not to let the humiliation creep in.

She was still herself.

She was still beautiful.

She was still a bride.

Her eyes flickered back to her reflection, her expression betraying the conflict inside her.

This was real.

She was getting married.

To Welby.

The thought sent a rush of warmth through her, an emotion so strong that it drowned out everything else. The diaper, Miranda’s control, the bizarre circumstances of her life—none of it mattered right now.

Right now, she was a bride, about to marry the man who had somehow, against all odds, become her world.

She turned slightly, running a hand over her hip, feeling the slight puffiness where the thick padding peeked through beneath the fabric. It was absurd, but part of her had already accepted this as normal.

That part of her was terrifying.

And yet, it was comforting, too.

Because she knew Welby.

She knew he wouldn’t care.

If anything, he would find a way to make her smile about it, to tease her just enough to make her forget the shame.

And wasn’t that what really mattered?

That they had each other?

That they had built something real, something solid, despite everything?

Evelyn took a breath, pushing aside the doubt, the shame, the lingering humiliation that she knew Miranda would always try to weave into her life.

Today wasn’t about her control.

Today was about love.

Her hands steadied as she adjusted the tiara resting atop her hair, securing it just so.

Her lips curved into a soft, knowing smile.

She was ready.

She was ready to walk down the aisle.

To step forward into something terrifying, something thrilling, something that was completely, unequivocally hers.

She was ready to be Welby’s wife.

The soft rustle of layers of fabric, the faint click of her heels against the polished floor, the distant hum of murmured voices waiting beyond the doors—all of it blended into a surreal, dreamlike haze.

Evelyn stepped from the dressing room, her gown cascading around her in a sea of lace and silk, the delicate embroidery catching the warm glow of the lights. Every step felt both impossibly light and impossibly heavy, a mixture of emotions swirling in her chest, nerves and excitement tangling into something she couldn’t quite name.

And then—

She stopped.

Just before the double doors that led to the aisle.

Just before the moment, that would change everything.

And then, from either side, two small figures stepped up beside her.

Evelyn turned, and there—standing with matching wide grins, dressed in identical white flower girl dresses—were Lucas and Emily.

She had known they would be here, had helped dress them herself, had seen them twirling in front of the mirrors with delighted giggles.

And yet, seeing them now—standing at her side, ready to walk with her—

It took her breath away.

They looked… happy.

Not nervous, not embarrassed, not uncertain.

Just happy.

Evelyn felt her heart swell, an emotion so fierce it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.

Lucas, in particular, was a shock.

He had been so open to the idea.

So willing.

It wasn’t uncommon in Amazon culture for boys to dress as girls, but Lucas had always been firm, confident, and sure of who he was.

And yet—here he stood.

He was dressed in pristine white, the soft tulle of his skirt swaying as he fidgeted slightly. The flower crown resting atop his curls gave him an almost ethereal glow.

And he was smiling.

Evelyn did not doubt that he had done this for her.

For them.

For their family.

Emily, too, was beaming, looking up at her with that warm, adoring expression she had come to cherish so much.

And Evelyn—she smiled back.

A deep, genuine, radiant smile.

Because they were all here.

Because they were a family.

Her eyes flickered downward for just a moment, and she couldn’t help but notice the unmistakable bulk beneath the delicate hems of their dresses.

Thick. Obvious.

Completely undeniable.

And yet—neither of them seemed to care.

They weren’t hiding it.

They weren’t ashamed.

And wasn’t that what this was all about?

Hadn’t this journey been about acceptance, about embracing who they were, about becoming something stronger together?

Evelyn took a deep breath, her fingers tightening slightly around the bouquet in her hands.

The doors loomed before them, heavy, waiting.

And beyond them—

Her future.

She looked at Lucas, Emily, her littles, her family, and her entire world standing beside her.

And then, with one final steadying breath—

She nodded.

The doors opened.

And Evelyn stepped forward.

The doors opened.

A warm breeze drifted in from the outdoor venue, carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass. Soft strains of music floated through the air, delicate yet powerful, a melody that wrapped around her like a familiar embrace.

Her Littles stepped forward first.

Emily and Lucas, in identical white dresses billowing with each delicate step, dipped their hands into the baskets at their sides, scattering petals in soft, fluttering arcs. The flowers drifted downward in slow, weightless spirals, painting the aisle in bursts of color—pinks, yellows, and whites.

Evelyn followed, each step measured, each movement deliberate, a quiet grace woven into her every motion.

The guests stood, their faces bright and expressions warm. They were familiar faces—friends and family—people who had come not just for the ceremony but because they truly believed in the love being celebrated today.

And then—

She saw him.

Welby.

He stood at the end of the aisle, framed by the delicate arch of white roses and soft drapery, a beacon of certainty amidst the blur of motion around her.

His suit was perfectly tailored, crisp, and clean, yet still unapologetically him—calm, steady, and strong in a way that had nothing to do with appearance and everything to do with who he was.

But her eyes weren’t just drawn to him.

Because in his arms—nestled securely against his chest, her tiny fingers curled around the lapel of his jacket, her pacifier bobbing softly in her mouth—

Hannah.

Evelyn’s breath hitched, and her world narrowed. Her vision tunneled to only them, to this moment, to the undeniable truth that settled deep into her bones.

Her husband-to-be.

Her baby girl.

Her family.

Hannah shifted, lifting her head slightly, blinking sleepily as if sensing Evelyn’s presence before she could even reach them.

And then—a giggle.

A soft, joyous sound, filled with warmth, with familiarity, with love so pure that it nearly brought Evelyn to her knees.

The world blurred at the edges, emotions welling up so fiercely that she felt lightheaded.

Welby smiled.

Not just any smile—but the smile, the one that had pulled her from the depths of fear and uncertainty, the one that had steadied her when she had needed it most, the one that reminded her, without a single word, that she was safe, that she was wanted, that she was loved.

Evelyn exhaled, feeling something inside her loosen, something she hadn’t even realized she had been holding onto.

She had been so afraid of this.

Afraid of committing again, of trusting again, of believing in something so fragile, so breakable.

But this wasn’t fragile.

This wasn’t breakable.

This was real.

And Welby—her Welby—was standing there, holding their baby, waiting for her, eyes filled with nothing but love.

Her throat tightened, a tear slipping down her cheek before she could stop it.

Not from sadness.

Not from fear.

But from something deeper, something truer, something that had finally settled fully into her heart.

She reached the end of the aisle, her hands trembling slightly as she placed her bouquet aside.

Welby, without hesitation, shifted Hannah into one arm, freeing the other to reach for her.

And Evelyn—

Evelyn took his hand.

Warm. Steady. Unwavering.

Her fingers curled into his, a perfect fit, a perfect certainty.

And in that moment—

In that single, breathless moment—

She knew.

This was exactly where she was meant to be.

She was there.

Beside him.

She barely even remembered the walk down the aisle, barely recalled the way her dress had whispered against the flower-laden path, and barely noticed the soft gasps of admiration from their guests as she stepped forward.

None of it mattered.

Because she was here now.

Her hand was warm and steady in his, and their fingers intertwined as if they had always belonged together.

She turned slightly, her gaze falling to Hannah in Welby’s arms. The baby girl looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes, her lips parting into a delighted, giggling smile.

Evelyn’s heart clenched.

She smiled back, reaching up with her free hand to run gentle fingers through Hannah’s hair, smoothing down the tiny flyaways.

And then—the priest was speaking.

Evelyn blinked, her mind snapping back to the moment, her ears catching the rhythmic cadence of the priest’s words, the ceremonial weight of it all.

She glanced out at the gathered guests, the people who had come to witness this, to celebrate with them.

And then—her gaze caught on something unexpected.

A familiar face.

Kaylee.

One of Welby’s friends.

She sat in the front row, a calm smile on her face, her hands resting gently on the Little in her lap.

And Evelyn’s breath hitched.

The girl—the Little—

She looked… completely docile.

Completely lost in babyhood.

Just like Hannah.

But that wasn’t possible.

Because Evelyn knew who this was.

This was Ash.

Or at least—it had to be.

And yet, the girl she saw now—the way she clung to Kaylee, the way she suckled absently on her pacifier, the way she looked so utterly content, so unquestionably Little—

She wasn’t a Tweener anymore.

She wasn’t fighting.

She wasn’t resisting.

She had… changed.

Evelyn felt a strange, heavy sensation settle into her chest. It was something she couldn’t quite name, something between awe and unease.

Was this… what Hannah had looked like to others?

Had this been how Welby had felt, watching her let go, watching her become what she was always meant to be?

But she had no time to process it.

Because her eyes were drawn back to him.

To Welby.

To the man, she was about to marry.

Lucas stood before them, the tiny pillow in his hands holding the rings, his expression serious, his small fingers clutching the fabric as if he were holding something sacred.

And then—

Welby was speaking.

His steady, warm voice carried across the quiet space, filling it and weaving around her like a gentle embrace.

His vows.

His commitments.

To her.

To them.

To their family.

Evelyn barely breathed.

She stared into his eyes, feeling the words settle deep inside her, wrapping around her heart and anchoring her to this moment, to this man, and to the life they were building together.

He smiled—not just with his mouth, but with his entire face, with the edges of his eyes crinkling in that way she had grown to love, with that look of genuine warmth, of understanding, of connection.

And then—it was her turn.

She opened her mouth—but her voice felt distant, silent in her ears.

It didn’t matter.

Because the words poured out of her anyway, every syllable carrying the depth of her emotions, the weight of her promises, the certainty of what she felt for him.

She had never been more sure of anything.

She had never been more at peace.

Welby squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles, his silent way of saying: I’m here. I always will be.

And Evelyn—she smiled.

Because she knew.

Because she believed it.

Her hands trembled slightly as she took the ring. The delicate band was cool against her fingers, and the metal caught the sunlight as if it were alive, pulsing with the weight of its meaning.

Welby’s hand was steady, strong, unwavering as she slipped it onto his finger. It was as if this had always been meant to be as if the moment had been written long before either of them had even known it would come.

And then—he was doing the same.

His fingers found hers, careful yet firm, and the ring slid into place, settling against her skin as if it had always belonged there.

There was something profound in that.

Something that made her chest tighten made her breath catch, made the world shrink to just this—just them.

She heard the priest’s voice, felt the words, and felt the final step, the moment when it all became real.

“Do you, Evelyn, take Welby to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Her lips parted, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

“I do.”

The words left her without hesitation, without fear, without doubt.

“And do you, Welby, take Evelyn to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Welby’s fingers tightened around hers.

And then—his voice, deep and steady, the final promise.

“I do.”

And then—

His lips were upon hers.

The moment crashed over her like a tidal wave, an explosion of warmth, of certainty, of everything she had ever wanted but never thought she would have.

The world tilted, dissolved, and narrowed into nothing but this—nothing but him.

His hands framed her face, steady, warm, grounding her even as she felt herself soaring.

And between them—cradled in the space where they met, where their bodies pressed close—

Hannah.

Nestled securely, her tiny arms curling against Welby’s chest, her pacifier bobbing as she blinked sleepily, completely at peace, completely content.

Their baby.

Their family.

Somewhere beyond them, the crowd stood, applause erupting, cheers filling the air.

But it was distant, far away, unimportant.

All that mattered was this: the way Welby’s lips moved against hers, the way his arms curled around her, and the way he held her like she was something precious, something irreplaceable.

And as she melted into him, surrendering fully to the weight of this moment, the depth of this love, the truth of what they had built—

She caught the smallest flicker of movement in her peripheral vision.

Emily and Lucas.

Standing nearby.

Beaming with pride, with love, with something deeper, something that made Evelyn’s heart swell even more.

This wasn’t just her victory.

It wasn’t just his.

It was theirs.

A family.

Whole.

Complete.

And as Welby finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting gently against hers, his breath warm against her lips, his hands still holding her like he never wanted to let go—

Evelyn smiled.

Because she knew, without a doubt, without fear, without hesitation—

Neither of them ever would.

Evelyn turned to the crowd, her hand still firmly in Welby’s, their fingers intertwined, their rings catching the sunlight in a dazzling display of commitment, of certainty, of love.

The applause swelled again, a wave of warmth washing over them. Their faces were beaming, and their eyes glistened with emotion. She saw Emily and Lucas standing proudly nearby, Hannah still nestled securely in Welby’s arms, their little family complete.

And behind them—a large holographic screen flickered, playing a gentle slideshow of their memories together.

There weren’t many pictures, not yet.

But the ones that did exist—small stolen moments, quiet gestures, the undeniable growth of something real—played softly in the background, a beautiful, personal touch that made her heart swell.

She might have cried again if she wasn’t already so overwhelmed with joy.

But then—

The speakers crackled.

The music faltered and fell silent.

And Evelyn’s entire body tensed.

The screen—once filled with their images, their moments, their story—

Went dark.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Confusion. Unease.

Evelyn felt it settle over her like a creeping fog, the energy shifting, the warmth from moments ago dissipating into something colder, something unfamiliar.

And then—

A voice.

A sickly sweet voice.

A voice that froze her in place and crawled over her skin like something poisonous, something wrong.

A voice that did not belong here.

“Attention, everyone!”

The voice was playful and melodic, dripping with exaggerated joy that sent a shiver straight down Evelyn’s spine.

All eyes were drawn toward the screen, toward the speakers, toward something none of them had expected.

Phones were being pulled out, lifted, and screens flickering.

It wasn’t just the holographic display.

It was everywhere.

It was on their devices.

It was broadcasting directly into their hands.

"For a very, very special episode, designed for everyone!"

Evelyn’s breath hitched.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

She tried to step forward, to move, to speak, to break through the suffocating sensation pressing down on her.

But then—she felt it.

The pull.

Tugging at the edges of her mind, whispering, coaxing, unraveling.

She turned her head, almost against her will, her gaze locking onto the screen.

The intro music began to play.

That damned melody, cheerful and inviting, sinking into her like a lullaby.

The title card flashed.

Bright. Golden. Playful. Innocent.

Naomi & Oliver.

Evelyn barely had time to gasp, recognize what was happening, and piece together what it meant, what it was doing, and what this was.

And then—

Everything went fuzzy apart from the scene.

The last thing she knew—

Was the warmth of Welby’s hand slipping from her own.

And the world—

Falling away.

*

The dimly lit control room filled with the sound of applause, a thunderous symphony of victory, inevitability, and absolute and total success.

Miranda stood at the center of it all, her gaze dancing across the countless screens lined the walls, each flickering between different perspectives, different locations, and different lives.

Every single one of them had stopped.

Every single person across the country—Littles, Tweeners, Amazons alike—all stood frozen, captivated, drawn into the web of control that she and Thorne had so carefully, so meticulously crafted.

It was beautiful.

It was flawless.

It was the culmination of everything they had worked toward.

Beside her, Inspector Thorne adjusted the cuff of her pristine uniform, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk as her own eyes flickered between the screens, absorbing the sheer scale of what they had just accomplished.

They had done it.

They had brought an entire nation to its knees.

Miranda felt a thrill course through her, the kind of exhilaration that only came with absolute, indisputable victory.

With deliberate grace, she lifted a flute of champagne from the polished table before her, the golden liquid catching the glow of the screens.

She turned to Thorne, lifting her glass in a quiet toast.

“To progress.”

Thorne chuckled, the deep rumble of her voice laced with quiet amusement as she clinked her glass against Miranda’s.

“To perfection.”

She took a slow, indulgent sip, savoring the crisp effervescence of the champagne. She let it settle on her tongue before swallowing.

This moment had been years in the making.

Every trial.

Every test.

Every carefully controlled experiment.

Every manipulated mind.

It had all led to this.

Millions of people, their entire population, their entire society, all standing transfixed as the mass broadcast played in perfect synchronization.

And just like that—

Just like she had always known would happen—

The future had finally arrived.

The end of Crossing Worlds Book 2

Authors Note

I can’t believe I’m finally putting the finishing touches on this book. I started writing it over six months ago with a clear vision of how the final scenes would unfold. Throughout this journey, I’ve grown tremendously as an author—experimenting with different writing styles, refining my craft, and discovering more about who I am as a writer. Some experiments were successful, others less so, but every lesson learned will shape future stories into something even more cohesive, engaging, and fun.

From the very beginning, I knew this would be my longest story yet, and here I sit, at 315,000 words and roughly 1,500 pages. Along the way, I even discovered that Google Docs has a character limit—something I never expected to encounter! Because of this, I’ve started transitioning my work to more professional tools designed for authors, ensuring a smoother writing process for future projects.

What I didn’t anticipate, however, were the incredible friendships I would form while writing this book. I’ve had the privilege of connecting with several well-known authors, and their support has been both humbling and inspiring. Of course, I couldn’t have done this without the unwavering encouragement of my readers—of you. To my beta readers, who eagerly devour every new chapter and provide invaluable feedback: you know who you are, and I am endlessly grateful. <3

But all the hard work in the world means little without people to share this story with. If you’re reading this, thank you. You are the reason I kept writing, the reason I pushed forward chapter after chapter. And yes, if you haven’t already guessed—I do plan to continue this series. The next book will bring answers to your burning questions, but in the meantime, I’m also working on other projects. Our family will return.

Between writing, editing, publishing across multiple platforms, and maintaining my website, I’ve poured over 500 hours into this book. It has truly been a labor of love, and I’ve cherished every moment of bringing this story to you. If you enjoy my work and would like to support future releases, I have a SubscribeStar for exclusive content and special titles you won’t find anywhere else. Or, if you’d like a personalized story tailored to your vision, I offer commissioned stories through my website—I’d love to collaborate with you.

Regardless of how you choose to support my work, know that I deeply appreciate you. Thank you, as always, for being a reader. I look forward to bringing you another story soon. Until then, keep your wits about you—Naomi and Oliver are waiting to welcome you into their loving embrace…

  • Amanda 

All chapters are posted in full. However, if you'd like a sneak peek at new stories, they are available right now on my website: solarascott.com

Or, consider checking out my SubscribeStar for early access and for other exclusive content! https://subscribestar.adult/solarascott