One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

One Privilege a Day

Disclaimer: sex toys, forced orgasms, exhibitionism, mindfuckery, wet and messy diapers, heavy bondage, sensory deprivation, dubious consent, and friendship. You have been warned.

One privilege a day. I’m certain that that will be my asking price for taking care of an AB. Food, board, entertainment, toys, and diapers paid for just in exchange for that. Most ABs fantasize about someone who wants to take care of them and let the AB not contribute anything in return. This is an opportunity for any male, thirty-five and under, though an older AB may have room in another scene or if they proved themselves exceptional.

I don’t want a son, slave, baby, child or pet. What I want is a project. When done, there will be no further obligation. No incriminating evidence left behind, just a memory that will be treasured and forgotten with time. All I want is the ability to take away your adult privileges, the ability to give them back, seven weeks of your life to do it in, and a signed agreement.

It will start with a your arrival at the bus station or airport. I want you to dress and travel like you normally do so that I can get a better feel for who you are. I want to get to know you as deeply as possible. As an artist I want to have a full appreciation of the material that I’m working with.

With a suitcase of adult clothing and toiletries in tow, we arrive at my house. It’s modest, but I make a living. In the kitchen of my house is a white board. Each privilege that is taken each day will be written there, as a reminder so you can keep track.

The first week isn’t hard at all. Little things like the right to choose your clothing, what food you eat, what medications you take, the right to be without a stuffed animal, and when your bed time is will be taken first. At this point, the rules will be easy to obey and your options are mostly adult. I will insist that you take chlorophyll tablets to reduce the smell of your used diapers.

The second week your right to use the potty for wetting is revoked. This is followed by the right to bathe yourself, then the right to feed yourself. The right to privacy from me will be taken, along with the door to your room. The right to change your own diapers will likely be taken last this week.

At this point, you are beginning to act clingy. You are in a strange situation and you aren’t sure what you should and shouldn’t do. You are learning slowly to be dependent on me. This is something I continue to encourage.

Week three, I take further advantage of the rules of week one: your adult clothes are no longer an option, your food is more like toddler food, and medications to encourage wetting may be used. The first privilege removed this week is your right to stand without being helped. Then, the right to use the toilet at all. Then the right to speak. Then the right to see.

Now you are blindfolded, fed on bottles of high fiber adult formula, bound to prevent you from standing, and expected to crawl around the house for exercise. We aren’t done yet.

All pretense is removed. You are not an adult, you are an infant, one under my care and supervision. For the first half of the fourth week, three more rights will be taken: the right to choose when and how you cum, the right of privacy from public exposure, and the right to have your diaper changed at all.

Imagine it: you’ve been crawling for ten days. You haven’t spoken for three, going on four. Yesterday we had our friends over. You tried to hide. They thought it was cute. Part of my plan for you is to introduce you to good friends, people who will watch over you during your stay and care for you when I cannot. You won’t be able to see them or speak to them, but you’ll hear them. Each of them will make an introduction and a promise. Protection. Companionship. Entertainment. Fellowship. Support. They provide these things to me, and they will provide these things to you because they are wonderful and accepting people.

Throughout your stay they will be there to protect you and help you feel human. But not yet. Today is only an introduction.

This morning is the third time that I’m brought you to climax via an incredibly powerful vibrator on the front of your already wet and messy diaper. As you lay there, shaking on the ground slowly recovering from your orgasm, I whisper into your ear: “No more diaper changes.”

What must be going through your mind at this point? Surely, you’d consider safewording. Maybe you’d try to remove your diaper, only to end up in thick leather mittens. Maybe you’d break down in frustration and cry. I would love the chance to comfort you. To hold you. To feed you a baby bottle filled with fiber and laxatives while telling you that everything is alright and that you’re never getting another diaper change. You’d permit me this one lie, wouldn’t you?

That day will be your messiest day. The day when you felt the most degraded you’ve ever felt in your entire life. All though the day and into the night your cute little stinky butt will feel worse and worse. You’ll seek me out, blind and unable to talk. At that point I will comfort you, hold you, tell you that everything was going to be alright, no matter how much it hurt now. Your bottles that day will contain shots of energy drinks or concentrated caffeine, to keep you awake and feeling all night long. I will stay up all night talking to you, rubbing your back or tummy, commiserating like one does with an ailing pet. I might cheat a little and stretch the day from 24 hours to 30 hours or give you a bottle that will give you severe cramping and messing towards the end, but you wouldn’t hold it against me, would you baby?

The day will be unbearable for you. In surviving an unbearable experience you change as a person. Something inside of you will forever be different. It was caused by me. Maybe weeks after we part ways, maybe years, you’ll want to relive that day and it will be foremost in your mind until you do.

Still, the best is yet to come.

When I finally decide you’ve had enough, I will take you into the bathroom, place you on all fours in the shower, and hose you down with cool water. Still unable to speak, still tied, still blindfolded. I will clean you thoroughly and leave you in the shower until you try to get out. Then I will tell you something that will make today one of the best days in your life:

“Starting today, every day, I will give you back a privilege.”

The last four days of week four, we reel back the intensity a little and give you some time to come back to yourself. You get your sight back on the day that you’ve spent a month with us. The first thing you see will be a surprise party for you: our one month old baby. Presents and party games, all of them picked exclusively for you and featuring more and more ways to humiliate you in front of the people we’ve invited.

Will you enjoy the remote vibrator? The new baby clothes? The extra thick cloth diapers? The enema kit? You won’t be able to talk yet, so you’ll have to test them and find out. Of course your cute reactions in front of all your guests will be taped, for prosperity.

Week five: Pictures. Are you thirsty? Draw me a picture. Do you want a change? Draw me a picture. Do you want anything at all? You guessed it, more pictures. Finger paints, crayons, water colors, pencils, markers, pens, sculpting clay, paper mache, and origami. You’ll do all these things baby. We’ll cover the refrigerator with your art. Then your room. Everywhere will be cute drawings and works of art.

Week six? Two words baby: public outings. A real baby isn’t shy, and you shouldn’t be either. At the end of this week I’ll give you back the ability not to be exposed, but in the six days leading up to it that’s all you will be baby. This is one of the reasons I got to know the adult you so well early on. Your favorite restaurants. The places you’d enjoyed going to. Wherever you passed the time while visiting me. We’d visit all of these places again baby, and your state of dress? Obvious. It’ll be impossible for anyone to mistake you for anything other than my baby boy.

Week seven.

As your privileges return, each one of them will be hit upon, and hard. These will be the ones that I know will mess with you most, and each occasion will be photographed in its entirety. I expect you to cry this week, more often than at any other point.

The last privilege you’d receive back? Well… that depends on you, doesn’t it? What do you hate most? What is the one part of your fetish that makes you want to scream, cry, and swear to never again be kinky? After six weeks, I’m willing to bet that I’ll know what it is, even if you don’t. Two days before you leave, I’ll ease you into it. Gently introducing you to the thing that you absolutely hate the most. Something intolerable. And, after twenty-four hours in its presence, interacting with it and only it you will have to admit… it wasn’t that bad, really.

Two, three years down the line, you’ll probably be doing it regularly. Whatever it is. It is another change, a second unbearable situation that you’ve survived and become the master of. Whatever happens to you down the line, now you have dealt with worse. You’ve been faced with something that a sane person could never handle. Twice. And you’ve pulled through. That strength, that ability to handle anything, will be my gift to you.

It was, after all, the entire point of this exercise. Well, maybe not the entire point.

The day before you leave you have earned all of your privileges back, and I have something special for you. One last outing.

At this point, we get to load my vehicle up with all of your drawings, all of the presents that you’ve been given, and everything that I’ve bought for you over the last seven weeks. We’ll drive out to the beach with everything and meet the friends you’ve made during your stay.

We’ll have a bonfire. Call it a potlatch, if you will. We will exchange gifts that are ruinous and grow because of it.

We’ll watch the video of your exploits, and you will throw it in the fire. We’ll got through your pictures, and you will add each and every one of them to the blaze. Your drawings. The gifts you’ve received. Every piece of evidence that you ever visited. The receipts from eating out. Movie tickets. Your bed. Your dresser. Everything. Every single physical reminder that the whole thing ever happened.

As the last seven weeks of your life burns we will dance. Party. Frolic. Alcohol and loud music will be had as the smoke rises and the fire burns down.

Perhaps one of your friends asks to keep a picture you’ve drawn or a photo to remember you by. It will be your decision, and what you say at that point will define you as a person. Are you fearful? Are you weak? Are you worth the air you breathe? Are you going to live your life the same way, or will you change?

I don’t know what decision you’ll make, but I can hope that you will have learned. From your friends. From your experience. From your caretaker for the last seven weeks.

I will hope that you follow my example and that you will give someone a gift that may ruin you.

…so. Any takers?

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

Raises hand Teacher, I have a question!

The fuck is this?

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

good story…. ?I liked what you propose and yet i still think I will say no thanks.

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

I suppose I should have added an actual disclaimer.

This story is an attempt at writing smut. One of the critiques I’d received often enough was “But how do I fap to this?” One of the goals was to leave a lingering doubt to get the reader to question the boundary between fantasy and reality. To get people thinking about making their wants manifest. Another goal was to give people a twist on the standard ab/dl fantasy: “I want a caretaker who will take care of me and I won’t have to contribute anything.”

So, as a thought experiment, I asked myself would motivate a person to take care of someone and foot the bill as it were. Money is sure as hell right out. Sex doesn’t require anything so complex and costly. There had to be something I was missing. Some freaky motive you don’t see often. Then I hit upon education and indoctrination as a motive. Wanting, not to care for someone, but to affect someone through caring. That’s a standard human motivation. It’s something I could work with.

Thus, smut.

If I was actually putting together a scene of this magnitude, involvement and getting to know the person would have to come first. Several in-person meetings, shorter scenes, etc. Also, the rougher bits would have to be fleshed out in advance. That isn’t the kind of thing that you spring on someone.

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

Smut stories need only coherency and a hint of logic, plausibility goes out the window with stories like that.

Anyway, if you get a critique from someone asking how they can fap to it, you really don’t need to be paying attention to that person IMO.

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

This story is, in minuscule terms, an attempt at increasing the quality of smut that I discover on the interwebs. If people encounter acceptable grammar or plausibility often enough they may include it in their own works.

If I wanted more enemas in the smut I find, I’d write about enemas. If I wanted more orcs, I’d include orcs.

Smexy smut sells. Stale stories stagnate.

Any other thoughts or critique? Both are greatly appreciated.

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

I also posted the story on rupadded under my normal account. When I woke up I’d received four PMs asking for exactly what you said. Honestly it doesn’t trouble me much. If 99% of the people who respond aren’t worth my time then 1% of them will be. 1% seems to be an improvement.

Damn! I’ve been recognized! Must flee!

In all seriousness, I changed the name mainly due to shame. I realized too late that if I outline a story to the conclusion it becomes almost impossible for me to finish. I’ve got five stories floating in the nether of the interwebs and another 8 or so at one or two chapters in on my desktop. Every now and then I’d get messages from people asking for more and I fled.

It was too much to disappoint the friends that I’d made in various places. Breaking my word to Zamm made me feel like a real scumbag.


Let’s play the Name Shame Blame Game!

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

So….who are you?

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

Good smut is one thing, but smut that makes you think too? Awesome. Just one question. Where do I sign?

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

I haven’t written much. Haven’t really finished much either.

An Internship of Sorts
Vaguely adventure-y story about an ab/dl college student who gets an internship working for a business that may be the embodiment of God’s will on earth. Borrows heavily from other works as fanfiction. Has a vaguely religious theme, but no judgement calls, discrimination, or bashing over the head with religion involved.,747.0/topicseen.html

An Inheritance of Sorts
A direct sequel to AIoS. Dane’s little brother is kidnapped and involved in some plot to unleash gibbering insanity upon the word. At the same time, Dane’s partner Serra is confronted with the truth about Dane’s diaper fetish. Ran out of steam two chapters from the ending. More or less, I wrote myself into a corner.,1061.0/topicseen.html

The Story of Meh
A kidnapping story. Tried to make it less stereotypical, but the more I wrote the more it seemed exactly the same as every other kidnapping story. Ran out of steam at chapter 2, outlined it to chapter 13. The ending was to have the kidnapper release the ab, realizing that what he’d done was selfish and horrible. The epilogue was to have the ab out himself publicly at an art gallery, faint as flashbulbs go off, then be caught by his former captor. End with warm feelings.,2311.0/topicseen.html,2337.0/topicseen.html

Of Moroii and Men
I figured it’d be fun to link a youth-stealing vampiric critter to a crafty thief then saddle him with an overbearing clay golem nanny in the average fantasy setting. Plan was for the Vamp to escape & every night the thief would get younger and younger. Culminate in a toddler vs. monster showdown, then end with the thief being re-raised in a quiet coastal town. Didn’t get far past the exploding squirrels. Possibly because it’s difficult to do diapers in a historic setting.

An ab/dl musician makes a living by luck alone. One foggy night he will encounter a woman who is more than he bargained for.

When I’d written the story originally I’d thought that the hypothetical offer would be repulsive to the average ab/dl. One of my assumptions had been that, on average, we were a cowardly lot and unwilling (as a general rule) to actually do things in the real world. Perhaps our community isn’t as loathsome as I’d grown to believe.

If it’s a compliment: thank you, I’m glad that I could make you think. If it’s an actual request: shoot me a pm, we may become friends, and, eventually, do something marginally less psychotic.

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)


Those links aren’t who you are, they’re what you wrote.

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)

I suppose I’d assumed stories were how someone would know me on a story site. Apologies.

Used to use the name scapegoatboy, but I changed it to the baron on most of the story sites I frequent.

Re: One Privilege a Day (Short / Complete)