Quick vignette... no title... (finished 5/12/22)

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

Nicely done. Good pacing.

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

That sounds like a eulogy. You may have convinced a random lurker to post a RIP WBDaddy thread on DD.

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

For goodness sake, I’m not DEAD. LOL

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

Well now I know why someone PMed me saying your account was hacked LOL,

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

Don’t get me wrong, for the last two weeks I’ve been at an exquisite level of agony due to my back, and more than once during that stretch I thought death might be preferable, but… ;D

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

From age or from labor? Or is it a combination of the two? My sympathy goes out to you either way, but I’m still curious… I myself get a decent amount of back pain every once in a while because I perpetually sit in a horrifyingly bad slouch… but that’s my own fault, and I’m only like nineteen, so I have nothing/no one to blame but myself.

That’s what I get for talking about him like he wasn’t active in the community anymore… which was stupid of me to begin with because like the first new post I read said he was. My bad. :stuck_out_tongue:

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

This was random. No aggravating circumstances. But my back has been bad since my 20’s, and it’s just gotten progressively worse as I’ve aged.

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

Over the hill, but not under it. ;D

With a(n) (un)healthy dose of early-life slouching, followed by lots of manual labor, I get occasional, but fairly bad back pain. Worst I’ve managed to achieve was a freak occurrence of excruciating pain upon waking, that legitimately had me unable to move from my bed. Fortunately it was a weekend, and I was seriously thankful that I’d decided to tape myself into some crinkly convenience the night before. It was bad enough to send stabbing pain through most of my body, for even the slightest movement. I just had to stare at the ceiling for ~six hours, eventually falling asleep again; waking to more pain, but lesser so, and able to move.

That was seriously bad, but thankfully a one-time thing. (knock on wood)
If you’ve put up with two weeks of any kind of constant back pain, then my sympathy goes out to you. (and I just realized XenonVoid said the same thing; screw it, it still counts if I say it. :slight_smile: )

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

I’ve had low-level, but constant, back pain for 20 years. This was uniquely and exquisitely excruciating because every time I tried to bend in any fashion (sit up, stand, walk, etc) I had violent shooting pain down into my right hip, with a burning quality that suggested that one of my discs had finally spilled out into the nerve canal and was going tappity-tap on my spinal cord.

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

Been there. In my case it is usually caused by a pinched nerve combined with a disc in my lower back that’s not fully formed. Last time it happened while I was in the hospital last year. Gave the nurses a good scare when they came in to check on me that morning. I had one hell of a time convincing them and the doctor that I really was fine and was used to that happening.

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

I just read your story. It was actually so good. I loved how the father didn’t come across as some sick perverted sociopath playing with his daughter for his own enjoyment. I also loved the fight that his daughter put up. That’s one thing about alot stories like this that frustrate me to no end. I know when I was growing up I put up as much of a fight as I possibly could when I felt things were unfair or just down right mean. So it was refreshing to see her not just sit there and take it. The father seemed like a real person trying his best in a terrible situation. I felt he controlled himself appropriately. It seemed he was trying his best to help rather than let his frustration take control and hurt her in the process of teaching her a lesson. It was actually quite beautiful.

As with the other stories I’ve read of yours, this one was written very well and very easy to follow. I loved the internal dialogue and his perspective of how she was reacting. I’d say all and all its quite an amazing peice. Its definitely too bad you lost interest in it. However I understand why you didn’t continue.

Re: Quick vignette… no title… (updated 4/7/16)

Thank you for the feedback. It’s not that I’ve lost interest in this piece, it’s that, much like all the other unfinished pieces I have floating around here, I literally don’t have enough time to work on them. Between what’s going on in my personal life, my job, and my moonlighting at Cushy Pen, there just aren’t enough hours in the day. Once things have settled down here and I can dedicate more time to writing, this is one of many on my “to do” list of wrapping up.

For a variety of reasons, most of which center around the fact that this was something I only ever posted here and nowhere else, even though a good many people who actively followed it are no longer active here, I’ve finally figured out how this ends, and it will probably also mark the end of my participation in this forum. But in my heart, I figured it would only be appropriate to finish the story in the place where I started it.

Dinner winds up being a quiet affair; we go to a local Applebee’s, the kind of glorified junk food that kids her age love and I, being something of a food snob, hate, but it’s relaxing, and I don’t bring up her underwear or what’s happening in it until after we’re back in the car and on the way home.

“Dad, really? I’ve been in this diaper since we went to Goodwill, of course it’s wet.”

I wince. “Okay, yeah, that was a dumb question. You want to shower when we get home, or wait until ten?”

“It’s okay, I’m not that wet.” I’m dumbfounded. I shouldn’t be, but I am.

“Okay, help me out here, Melissa, seriously.” I’m trying to restrain myself, stay even, but I don’t get it. “You’re wet, but you totally don’t care if you get a change or not. Daddy doesn’t understand this. Not even a little bit.”

“Well, you bought these diapers that hold like a gallon of pee, it’s kinda dumb to just waste them.”

Now my jaw is on the floor as I try to maintain focus on the road. She’s right, the absorbency numbers on these things were crazy. But… “So you’re cool with just sitting in your own pee and poo until I come and change you? Doesn’t it feel gross?”

“Oh my god, that poo was the most disgusting thing ever! But you were like, all over the place, locking the bathrooms, trying to treat me like a baby, I didn’t know what the hell!”

Ugh, she’s got me, and I have to admit it. “Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t really think this thing all the way through, did I?”

She doesn’t answer, so I continue. “I’m sorry, Pixie. I thought you’d be so upset about having to wear diapers all the time it’d get you motivated to start using to the bathroom. I just didn’t know what else to do, I mean, this last school year sucked, you know? I was doing your laundry three times a week, and you fighting me all the time about wearing pull-ups got old!”

“I’m sorry too, Daddy.” Her voice sounded so small, and the reticence was palpable. “I… want to tell you something, but I’m afraid you’ll get crazy again.”

Oh boy. Do I want to hear this? “Alright, hang on,” I say, pulling into a convenience store parking lot. “Let’s not have Daddy get into an accident from the shock.” I laugh a little, trying not to tense the mood any more than it already is. “Tell me something, Pixie.” I turn to her. Her eyes are glistening just a bit, like there are tears, but she’s holding them back.

“I…” she looks down. “I actually like them.”

Yep. Parking lot was good choice. My mind is blown. “You… like the diapers?”

“I mean… Like you completely freaked out the first time you made me wear one, so I hated that, but like when you changed me that first time, it just put me in this place where like, I don’t know, like, Daddy was taking care of me and it felt so good and I felt like such a little girl and… I don’t know how to explain it…”

It took me a minute to recover from that, but I tried to keep the conversation going, as confused as I was. “So, you liked feeling like a little girl? Is that what you want, for me to treat you like you’re two or three years old again?”

“Well, like, not like you were threatening to, like, if you’re just gonna embarrass me and make a big deal and be all mad and stuff, and like take privileges away and stuff. But, like… when you called me Pixie and cuddled me in your lap, it was like the most amazing thing ever. You haven’t called me Pixie since I was like eight?”

“Honey, I stopped calling you that because you got all weird about it. I didn’t want to embarrass you around your friends. And no matter how old you get, my lap is always here, you don’t have to pee on yourself to sit in it.” I’m starting to choke up a little myself.

“But, like, I don’t know, I mean, the diapers are actually awesome when I’m gaming, because I can just grind through raids and stuff and not worry about it until I’m done. And then it felt so amazing when you changed my diaper, it was like I wish I had my old stuffed rabbit to snuggle and suck my thumb or something, and I don’t know why I felt that, but…”

So much to process. So much to sort out. I have questions. I have to ask them. “So, why did you give me such a hard time about wearing the pull-ups when you got home? I bought them for that exact reason!”

“Because it was always a big song and dance, you were like shaming me about it, and I felt bad, and I was like, ‘no, I don’t need those’, and… besides, it’s not the same as… like…”

“Like when I put a diaper on you?” No judgment, just try to listen.

“Yeah, like,” she’s really struggling, and I can’t blame her.

I take her hand. “It’s okay, I just want to understand. You can tell me.”

“Like, when you tell me to go put a pull-up on, I feel bad about it, because I’m still like twelve and shouldn’t be doing this stuff. But when you put a diaper on me, it’s like, I’m not in control anymore, and then I smell the powder, and I hear it crinkle, and when you’re not like yelling at me like a crazy person, it’s like, this feels good, I’m a little girl, and my daddy is taking care of me, and I like that.”

My brow furrows as I try to figure things out. “Well, is this what you want, to stay in diapers all the time?”

“No! I mean… I don’t know… I…” Tears streak down her cheeks. She’s wavering.

I feel like I have to pin her down. I put my arm around her. “It sounds like you have some confusing feelings about all this. How about you try and tell Daddy about each one.”

“Right now, it’s all so new, and these amazing feelings, and yeah, if you’re like chill about it, then I totally would want to spend the rest of the week in diapers like you said. Or at least a couple more days or something. But like, you say all the time, and I’m like imagining going to 7th grade and like, my life is already shit at school, this would just like bury me! I might as well kill myself or something if I went to school in a diaper!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Daddy’s not going to send you to school in a diaper. That’s two months away anyway, and we’ll cross whatever bridge is there when we come to it. I’m trying to figure out what you’re feeling and what you want, and see if I can figure out a realistic plan out of it going forward, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice is really small now, and I feel her grip my hand.

“So you said something about wishing you had your old pet rabbit. We had to get rid of him years ago because he was filthy and flea-infested from all your adventures outside with him, but I could maybe find you one that looked like him, maybe scaled up a bit?”

“I…” She’s unsure of herself, but she’s trying. “I might like that.”

“Then let’s go shopping online tonight, see if we can find one. Now, as far as the diapers are concerned, I’m okay with following through this week and doing what I said I was going to do at the outset, which was take care of things for you. But I had just as much fun cleaning up that poo mess as you had making it, so how about I get rid of those dumb locks I put on the bathrooms, and maybe you take a potty break when that has to happen? And then come see me for a fresh diaper when you’re done?”

“Okay. But what about after that?”

“How about we figure out what comes after that when it happens? I’m definitely not going to keep you in diapers all summer, because then you’ll have no choice but to wear something at school, and neither one of us want that. But maybe we’ll figure something different out, okay? Maybe just Daddy gets a diaper on you for bed, or maybe just once in a while after school, or maybe just when Melissa’s feeling more like my little Pixie than her usual almost-teenage self? I have a feeling you’ll let me know, after five more days of this. What do you think?”

She wraps herself around my arm and reaches across the seats as best as she can to hug me. “Thank you, Daddy. I love you!”

“I love you too, Pixie. Let’s go home and get you changed.” I pull back out of the parking lot and back onto the road. I’m not quite sure I understand what’s going on with my daughter, but I love her, and I’d be lying if I didn’t feel things similar to what she’s feeling about this whole thing I accidentally started. But I’m looking forward to exploring it, and understanding it, and hopefully in the end it brings us closer together, the way we always were. Daddy and Pixie against the world. No matter what kind of underwear she wanted to wear.



Very well done. I feel ya, though. Sometimes it just takes a long time before that last piece falls into place and you know it’s right. But not everyone waits until that happens.

I don’t know if her dialogue will really ‘click’ with everyone, but I get it. And it’s heartwarming to see her trust her dad enough to tell him those things.

In any case, glad to see it done.

Sad to see you go, though, if you’re not going to be around anymore.

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Wow, I wonder if this is a record for the longest a story has been dormant and then gets finished? This makes me hold out hope that some other authors will return and finish up some great stories that remain unfinished.

That was a nice ending to a good story, by the way. Thanks for finishing it.

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