Diapered Girl Novels & Stories

Kiara is led out of the city bare foot to the place where the Emperor’s, army sets up camp, which is just a few feet from the city gates. She is dumped inside a large exquisite tent. Where she discovers the bolt of fabric she had spent every last dime purchasing, is the same one used as the carpet for the tent. A girl walks into the tent, wearing a loose purple dress and a shawl over her head. She smiles at Kiara and offers her a hand to help her off the ground. Her skin is the colour of almonds and when Kiara gets to her feet, she discovers that the girl is extremely tall and thin. She smiles at Kiara but the smile falters when she notices Kiara’s clothes and the rug.

Infact, the person standing before her was the total opposite of the scary beings she had faced for two years of her life. A little girl — probably within the age range of three to five years old — stood in cute black tights, a pretty little turquoise blue sweater and her feet were covered in beautiful brown winter boots. Alaria couldn't help but scrutinize the beautiful little girl in front of her. Her blonde hair was styled in two pigtails which were held by matching turquoise blue headbands and her dewy–eyed face continued to stare back at Alaria. For a few minutes, they continued staring at each other until the petite girl broke into a wide grin, showing her missing teeth. Alaria was sli

A small kid given a cup of ice cream replaced it. Her lips spread towards her ears and her eyes gleamed. If one hadn't known better, they wouldn't have recognized the dead eyes that they first saw as the same girl's eyes. That's how much alive it was right at that moment. The sky turned orange... quickly the girl opened her backpack. Out came a camera... a huge one. The girl started clicking shots of the sky and that of the city as it came awake. Everything had a touch of orange and brought color to the whole city.

In a dimly lit room upstairs, a petite girl lay motionless on a large king sized bed. She had on her a white lose tattered dress that barely covered her body. She lay on the bed, face down and once close, one could hear faint sobs. She had lay in this position for close to four hours, her once smooth and delicate skin now covered in scars both new and old ones. From the morning's beating, she had not even bothered to clean herself up nor had she bothered to clear the bedroom. The curtains at the window remained shut and the bed remained unmade.

The walls were alive with art—bold sketches, half-finished paintings, pieces that spoke of pain, but also of survival. A girl sat in the far corner, hunched over a drawing pad, her fingers smudged with charcoal. She couldn’t have been older than fifteen. Sophia approached slowly, crouching beside her. “What are you working on?” she asked gently. The girl looked up with guarded eyes, then down again. “I’m drawing you,” she said quietly. Sophia blinked, taken aback. “Me?” The girl nodded and turned the sketchbook around. Sophia stared. It wasn’t a portrait in the traditional sense. There was no face. No features.

River "Miss Stephenson, wake up!" Our math teacher, Ms. Davis, shouts at the girl sitting next to me. I give her a gentle shake to wake her up, but as always, I get yelled at for it. I've always been the odd one out, the outsider. I'm the water girl for the football team because I can't play any sports. My two left feet always hold me back. One of the popular girls on the team, Marie, insults me, calling me the "nasty girl" and saying she'll have to scrub her arm until it bleeds to get my "nastiness" off.

Hugging her, holding the body that was shorter than him, so as not to fall. "Hey! You fainted!?" *** 15 minutes earlier.. The boy drove the car through the deserted streets while swearing at his beloved Dady and Sisy. He was just about to fall asleep in his comfortable bed after coming home from hanging out with Violet and his other friends, but suddenly he got a request to buy sanitary pads and menstrual pain relievers for Lily, his only sister. Even though he felt asleep, but the little girl's whimper and his father's persuasion were able to make him awake and go to the nearest shop to buy the requested item.

When we made it home, daddy checked my pull-up, when he saw it clean he asked me about it. "Did you change it princess?" he asks, I couldn't lie since he'll notice my bagpack was empty, so I nodded. "Good girl princess, do you want to say in this or change to a diapee?" he asks me again, what's with them today and talking about my undergarment choice. "Change please," I say too scared of having another accident, this time mama took over to change me, my clothes were off and changed to just a onesie with the words "Mommy's girl" on it.

I step forward. Then… a tap. Light. Hesitant. Like a bird landing. I freeze, turning slowly. A little girl stands behind me. Maybe seven. Maybe eight. Her hoodie covers her head almost entirely, the oversized fabric swallowing her shoulders and arms. But what peeks through, smooth, bald scalp catching the fluorescent lighting tells a story without a single word. Her eyes are impossibly big. Warm caramel pools rimmed with exhaustion. But she’s smiling. A soft, hopeful smile.

It hits the interior tiled wall with a sharp crack. A girl is curled into the small space between the porcelain basin and the copper tub. She is small, her hair a tangled mat of brown wool that smells heavily of damp earth and cheap pack soap. She is wearing a shift that is three sizes too large, the linen stretched tight over an enormous, round belly. She is at least eight months gone. She screams, a tiny, choked sound, and burrows her face into her knees. Her entire body is shaking so violently her heels rattle against the floor tiles.