Zaeopolis

Travel Log of Josie Clough. Day 7. My tribulation thus far into the expedition is beginning to outweigh the possibility of my findings. Ever since I was a teenage girl, upon hearing of the fabled Diaper Amazonians – a tribe once thought fiction – I have longed to find them and study them anthropomorphically. What kind of secrets could these women keep? What could they tell us about humanity and our ancestors? I continue to hack through rough jungle and find my breasts scratched, legs covered in damned bug bites and hair resembling that of a bird’s nest. My rations wain and I worry that I have grown thin throughout this expedition deep into the Amazon jungle. However – I must keep spirits high and trust in my navigational knowhow. I must be close to the Diaper Amazonians. I can almost smell their dirty nappies! My only company being Pluto (the jewel-eyed corgi) I do fear we shall not last a fortnight in these dismal conditions. Luckily, I have found a clearing and set up camp for

Hermione awoke suddenly. The first thing she felt was a mushy sensation in the seat of her diaper. She jumped as she realised she was nude apart from the messy diaper she adorned – it stank and had been filled clearly twice-over in her sleep. Hermione stifled a shriek as she realised she was back in what she thought was the room of requirement. There was a lone changing station and posters slung around the room of her, naked in a messy diaper. Had Cho and her cronies done this to her? Suddenly, a figure appeared. ‘Well, well…’ said a cold, harsh voice. It was Voldemort. Hermione squealed and scrambled away. ‘What more do you want from me?’ Voldemort stopped. ‘I want to help you,’ he slung her a wand that Hermione couldn’t recognize. What was it made from? It was long and white-coloured, nothing she had ever seen before. ‘What does it do?’ she uttered. However, by the time she looked back, Voldemort was gone. A door appeared and Cho walked in with two of her friends, giggling and

Emily stared in her bedroom mirror vacantly. She had gotten undressed out of everything but the pull-up which clung around her waist lopsidedly. The curvy girl could not get over the fact she had just made her best friend incontinent, for fear of what The Voice could do to her. Further public embarrassment? Release of the video online? Emily was trapped. She had toyed with the idea of taking the miniature nappy off and some sexier attire, but then realised – if The Voice really did control her, was she safe wearing knickers from now on? Also, she thought guiltily, Emily enjoyed the warm, soft feeling of the pull-up against her butt and it made it appear bigger if she wore jeans. As she stared in the mirror and stroked her enormous breasts, she turned over more thoughts from the day. She had came the hardest she ever had in her economics class after she had shit herself – Emily couldn’t ignore the fact that she loved the naughtiness, humiliation and the feeling of erotic release as she

Evie knew she looked cute that day. A skin-tight white jumper exposed her large breasts and pink ‘juicy’ trousers that snuggled between her ass cheeks made her a walking hard-on for any boy attending college. She knew it - smiling and flirting with any lad who approached her. Her exposed waist was bronze from fake tan and a belly-button piercing tied her allure altogether. She had big, hazel eyes and a curt, sexy smile that drew anyone in. Her best friend had not been so gracious that day. Emily hadn’t seemed talkative all through economics and Evie had guessed that she had an accident half way through the lesson - gross. Emily had slinked off towards the end of class followed by that unmistakable odour. Evie also thought she had seen a flash of brown, sagging panties underneath her tennis skirt. Thinking Emily had gone home (assuming with illness) Evie stopped outside economics and began talking to James. ‘You’re coming Friday, right?’ he asked with a grin. ‘Why? So you can try and

Emily was quick to clean up her overnight mess and blushed tearfully as she zig-zagged her knickers down her legs, trying carefully to avoid any further mess. What had that dream been about? Pissing herself - diapers? Being forced to shit herself against her will? Maybe therapy could be an option, she laughed to herself. However, Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still yet to awake and that the world felt somewhat jagged and unfamiliar. … With a shudder, she realised that she had college today. Something to take her mind off the messing the bed. After she had showered, thrown away her no-longer-pink panties and put her bedding in the wash, Emily chose her outfit. The 18 year-old girl liked to show off her assets at college so the boys would stare - and girls, actually. She chose a tight beige skirt that complimented her curvy butt (clarified with an ass-grab in the mirror) and a plunging black top that lifted her huge tits and gave her an inordinate amount of cleavage, only

Emily sat up; recoiled her thick, bronzed legs from the end of her bed; tidied her big tits so they sat steadily in her black satin bra and shook her dip-dyed silvery hair from the front of her face. What had she done last night? She’d remembered going out for drinks and speaking to some guy. Was that all? … She darted a look across the room -- a ‘Trainspotting’ poster. Emily trawled about the grey, linen quilt she found herself wound in and swung a bare leg upon the floor. Followed by the other. She snaked a hand to her hip. Emily was relieved she still donned a pair of minimal black briefs. This was a boy’s room. Large and clean. She pressed her naked feet to a soft carpet. ‘You’re okay, just need to leave!’ Emily gasped. She had promised herself to avoid situations such as this. Equally, it excited her. She hopped from the bed and began to explore the room, noticing LED lights trailing in a zig-zag across the room and more boyish posters she struggled to place. A mirrored wardrobe