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  1. (Yes, I know I should continue my Dragon Quest AR story, but three ideas for this site have really struck me lately - one of which, thus far, is eighty-four Google Doc pages thus far, and likely will push into the 500-page range. No, this is not that story; I want to absolutely finish it before posting here - and this is the one I've found the most time working on lately, so this is the story I'm gonna post here. I don't know at what intervals I can post it; I thought I had it with the Dragon Quest story, but I have three chapters done so far, and I'm closing in on a fourth and more. Let's just say a monthly updating schedule?) (Anyway, this is Salutatorians! It's a much darker spin on a Daddy Dom-Little Girl story, not because of any punishments or sexual stuff in particular - the former because I'm not into punishments by a parental figure because I've had those punishments done as a kid for no reason in the past and I'm averse to it, and the latter because I'm a virgin and won't write sex scenes when I have no idea how to write them - but because of just how dark this story gets for the characters. As trigger warnings, suicide, mental illness, violence, abuse of children (including sexual (not shown), physical, and emotional), domestic violence, cursing (including sexist rhetoric), and explicit description of injury (including blood, broken bones, and torn ligaments).) (If you haven't been scared off yet, I promise to write this story to the best of my ability, and I promise that, while I will not shy away from any of those trigger warnings, I will write it as tactfully and as respectfully to those who still wish to read it as I possibly can. These things are not in the story for anything other than plot reasons; this, I swear with all of my heart and soul. But I've said my piece. It's up to you if you want to read or not. I hope you'll read, but I won't be upset if you don't; I'm writing this story as much for me as for you.) Chapter One: A First Date. - Eiluned Mostyn was silent as she prepared her large black tote bag, black gloves, an ankle-length black hooded down coat, and a hot-pink scarf for the cold February Minnesota weather, ready for another dinner date. The college sophomore - formerly from Torfaen, Wales (Cwmbran, if one wanted to get personal) - had tried for a fair few dates with men on Tinder. Those fair few had claimed they were Welsh, claimed they knew her from school or whatever, claimed a lot of things that, after she dug deeper, weren’t true. She always ended up swiping left for most of the cases, and the few dates she had gone for had gone nowhere. This new guy seemed interesting…because she remembered him from a long while back. Ifor Sealy. Just a month older than she was, both of them being twenty years of age. Moved to Tennessee from Wales like she had (except he had been from Bridgend). She remembered him from middle school in eighth grade before she moved away to Minnesota the following year, and lost contact with him. And now he showed up? Out of the blue? Like nothing ever happened? Sure, Eiluned had done her research; the profile proved that he was exactly who he said he was, and for some reason, according to his Facebook and Twitter pages, he had transferred to Minnesota - THE University of Minnesota, where she was studying mechanical engineering - for reasons all his own (i.e., football). But why? Why had he moved here, of all the places he could’ve moved? Surely it didn’t have to do with…her, right? No, couldn’t be. Absolutely couldn’t be! She shook her head and shivered as she stepped into the chilly evening air, got into her car - a beat up Honda - turned the key into the ignition, and drove off to the meeting site: Hell’s Kitchen Minneapolis, a popular hotspot for the college crowd. It wasn’t that far, but she didn’t feel comfortable walking to dates. Too many horror stories, and she was smarter than that. She was one of the best students, a salutatorian in her Minnesota high school. She worked hard for everything she had. And yet… Eiluned froze, trying to drive…it out of her mind. It was her own horror story that made her this way. She didn’t want to think about it. It was something she had worked hard to get rid of, and yet, it was always at the back of her mind, and it stayed there on the short drive to the place, all the way until she pulled into the parking lot, where Ifor was already there, apparently waiting for her. The first thing about Ifor that she noted was that he was a lot bigger than her (although she shouldn’t have been surprised; he was an offensive line transfer from Vanderbilt). She was small at 5’1”, 105 pounds, and he absolutely dwarfed her, like a full-grown redwood tree would dwarf a sapling; he had to be 6’7”, 295 pounds. His hair was down past his shoulder blades, a curly ginger mop that he had tucked away from his gleaming ocean-blue eyes; he wouldn’t have looked out of place in a movie about Celtic warriors, except for his gap-toothed grin showing a playful side of him. He wore a coat that was a surprising fit over a black dress shirt, khaki pants, and a pair of worn brown boots that looked like they had at least been cleaned for the date. Well, you certainly dressed to impress, Ifor. Now what do you want? Eiluned sighed, brushing her dark-brown bangs away from her sage-green eyes. "Helo, Ifor,” she began calmly. “Shwmae?” "Da iawn, diolch, Eiluned,” he replied with an accent that was decidedly not Welsh, yet somehow seeming natural to those words; he was a man who had obviously grown up in a Welsh family. She gestured to the sign. “Why here?” Ifor shrugged. “I hear they make a nice Lucy burger, and I’ve never had one before,” he said in a surprising Southern drawl; she had expected him to speak more…Welsh-ly. "Why do you have a Southern accent, Ifor?” she asked, a little more sharply than intended. To his credit, the harshness of the question seemed to roll off him. “I’ve lived in Tennessee since I was almost seven. Sorry, I bet you expected a Welsh accent?” "Then how do I know you’re actually Ifor Sealy and not some creepy imposter?” He sighed before reaching into his pants pocket for his wallet and giving his ID to her. “If there’s a creepy imposter my size using my name, I’d definitely be scared.” She looked at the ID, noted that it was undeniable proof Ifor was who he said he was. “Fine. I apologize for misunderstanding; you can never be too careful.” "If the situations were reversed, I’d do the same thing. So, are we going to stand in the cold for the night or do we go in?” Eiluned nodded. “Let’s go in.” --- (So, this is the first chapter. As a note, those supposedly unpronounceable words are Welsh (which is admittedly not a language I know, so please forgive me if I don't get them right, I tried my best and looked up as much as I could, and I promise to correct them if they're wrong.). I'll give you a quick translation and pronunciation (from what I could find on Google Translate and various sites): (Helo = Hello. Pronounced "hello", obviously.) (Shwmae = How are you? (informal). Pronounced "shoo - mai.) (Da iawn, diolch = Very good, thanks (Pronoucned "da - yaown - dee - och (ch is the same as in "loch".) (Cwmbran = Kuum = brawn) (As for how the story goes...well, we'll certainly see what happens, won't we?)
  2. Hello all. Here's a story I've been working on. I'm posting it another place as well, but figured no harm in having more eyes look it over. This story has a magical realism thing going on. Adult language, sexual situations, and violence are elements of this story as well. So, forewarned = forlorn and all that. Hope you enjoy. -malus Prologue: “How is it where you are, my precious boy?” the feminine voice was soft, kind, and strangely resonant. He paused for a moment before answering her, and watched as the sky drifted into focus - a collision of colors; violet, amber, magenta, and orange. Dawn and dusk, noon and night met and mingled as bright stars sparkled. “Different” he felt himself say. His words and movements were not his, he felt. His gaze drifted as he leaned his head back and beheld her delicate face, with those eyes of green which blazed with adoration and something near mischief. “How so, sweetest of all?” Her full lips spread wide as she smiled lovingly. His nostrils flared as he breathed in. Lavender. She always smelled of lavender. “It’s…more.” His voice came out distant. He tried not to think about it. He didn’t want to be where his thoughts would lead. His gaze was pleading as he took in her impossible loveliness. She laughed brightly. “More…what?” she pried as she traced a long, slender finger over his pouty lips. The odor of talcum mingled with the prevailing scent of lavender. He relaxed into the fragrance. “More everything. Moreness. More Substantial…more hard.” He answered in a choked whisper. Tears welling in his eyes. “That will change soon, little one” Her smile was sad. The words could hardly leave his mouth “I’ve missed you.” He tried to reach out to her only to find that his limbs were frozen. Her aspect suddenly solemn, she said “You will know me soon”. The words were not the succor that he needed. He wanted her to hold him close. “Don’t go” he begged in a thin squeak. Panic rising within him, her warmth diminished as she started to fade away. Tears rolled down her high, regal cheeks “I am not the one that is going, precious creature.” Once more she smiled sadly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He never felt her lips. He was dissolving as the lunatic sky shimmered, its colors muddling and mixing, becoming darker with each moment. Coldness remained in the absence of her warmth. Something musty replaced her scent. Darkness reigned. He still could not move. Nor could he breathe. Chapter One Nathaniel Carmichael woke with a sharp, greedy inhalation. Promptly following was a low moan which was equal parts terror and longing. A few rapid, ragged gasps followed as moan became a soft whimper. He regained his senses, awake now, in his bed; cold and wet. Sighing as he starred at his ceiling, the dim, azure light of dawn let him know that it was about five in the morning. As much as he hated waking up wet, he needed a moment to find himself. It had happened again, the third time in four weeks. Nathan pulled back his blanket and gazed down at his soaking wet boxers, as well as the large wet patch on his sheets. After a few more moments he rolled out of bed, and stripped the sheets with practiced efficiency. “Mattress is ruined” he thought as he padded down the hallway of his apartment “Third time in a month. Over 12 this year. God damn it.” Stuffing his soiled sheets and wet boxers into the tiny washing machine located in one of the hall closets, Nathaniel sleepily puzzled over the meaning of what was happening to him. He had this dream, on and off, since his mid-teens. It wasn’t always the same, but she was always there, whoever she was. He always woke up soaked, too. His best guess is that it was some kind of reaction to finding out he was adopted. He had taken enough 100 and 200 level Psych classes to provide himself an armchair analysis of his problem. While his adoptive parents were kind and provided a loving home, finding out he was not theirs put his identity in crisis. Not knowing what he could trust in the world, he created some fantasy mother-type character in his dreams. The end of each dream was the same. She would go away, and he would wake up terrified, half choking, and wet. The problem with that analysis is that she always told him that it was Nathaniel who was going. Still, it made enough sense; abandonment, mommy issues, Freud and all that bullshit. Also, Nathaniel did not think of himself as being especially bothered about being adopted. He loved his parents. Walking into his bathroom, Nathaniel frowned in the faint glow of the bathroom’s night light. He looked at his slender form in the mirror. Broad ribcage, narrow waist, and a surprisingly ample bottom for someone of his build...Nathaniel Carmichael was a handsome, rather pretty, young man. He blinked at his reflection, and a finely featured face with a strong chin, expressive hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and a wild mop of thick ringlet curls, blinked back. “You’re too old for this shit, Nate” he admonished himself in the best grizzled old man affect he could manage. After relieving himself in the bathroom, Nathaniel returned to his bedroom. He donned a clean, dry pair of boxer briefs, and fetched a composition book from his bedside table. He then went to his living room, and sitting on his couch wrote in his book Had dream Again. Dinner was a salad and turkey sandwich. Fluids after 6 were three glasses of water, glass of wine. Tomorrow – get plastic sheet and other stuff. Make shrink appointment? He turned on the television, and put it on some quiet show about the history of Russia or something. Nathaniel was not paying particular attention to the program. He just wanted a distraction to sleep to. Some noise to keep his thoughts away from her, and that wild sky, and the dreadfulness of parting ways. Chapter Two The morning routine - coffee, shower, dress, more coffee, drive to work. Groggy as he was, Nathaniel found it easy to not dwell too much on last night’s dream. His job as assistant manager at little corner candy shop in the town mall was not especially strenuous, just retail - a kind of work that came with its own frustrations. Nathaniel made just enough to afford his relatively Spartan lifestyle, though he would occasionally need some help from his parents when his car insurance, or some other large bill, was due. Come lunch time, Nathaniel flipped through the phone book in the small backroom of the store. He first searched for a pharmacy, and was struck by the name Gonne Apothecary. It had an antiquated kind of affect that tickled him. Even if they didn’t have what he needed, it might be a weird and neat place to visit. The address indicated it was near enough to work, so he called to find out about their hours. “Thank you for calling Gonne Apothecary, your independent source for all of your health needs. This is Heather, how may I help you?” the voice was pleasant and lilting with the practiced enthusiasm of someone who had been answering phones for some time. “Uh, hi. I just wanted to see what your hours are?” “We close at nine tonight, and we’re open 10-9 Monday through Friday; noon till six, Saturday, and noon till four, Sunday” Heather replied promptly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” She chirped. “No…um, that’s all” he said before adding “Thanks.” He had considered asking if they had what he was looking specifically looking for, but shame kept him from it. “Welcome! Bye now” Heather ended the conversation with warm finality. Nathan flipped through the counseling section of the phone book. He didn’t have any recommendations, so he was mostly looking for a shrink that was close to work or home. It took a while before he found someone, Alexander Weinack, M.D. He called, and after a few rings, went to voicemail. “Hi there…This is Nathan Carmichael. I’m having a few” he paused “problems and was just looking for someone to sort it out with.” He spoke into the machine. He went on to provide his insurance information, and his cell phone number. Those tasks out of the way, Nathan went on with his day. Clocking out at 4, he bid his co-workers a good night, and drove to Gonne Apothecary. Gonne Apothecary sat in a rundown strip mall, sharing the building with a CPA, a nail salon that appeared closed, and a vacant space for rent. The apothecary itself seemed closed as well, its windows tinted in such a way that no interior lights could be seen from the outside. The only hint that it was open was a little read sign hanging on the front door that stated as much. “Don’t see how they could stay in business like this” Nathaniel thought as he parked. He was having second thoughts. On one hand, he could use something to protect his already ruined mattress. His four years of being single would continue on for a while if he brought women to his place and his bed smelled like a toddler going through a rough patch in his potty training. On the other hand, he’d never bought anything related to his intermittent problem. His mom took care of the mattress protector when he lived at home, and he didn’t wet that often when he was on his own…well, until recently. “They’re professionals. They won’t laugh. It’s for someone else, or something. Besides, it’s not like I’ll see any friends in here” he thought, a touch sardonically. A bell chimed as he entered the apothecary. Nathaniel felt a bit of disappointment as he entered the place, finding it to look much like a normal pharmacy; the floor linoleum, the walls white, the air anti-septic, and the tall shelving units ecru. He was hoping for dark, stained wood and drawers filled with obscure reagents. Despite his initial disappointment, the place seemed well stocked, and the shelves were tall, which blocked the line of site to the counter at the back. It was a mercy for privacy, but not a good way to prevent theft, Nathaniel surmised as he glanced about for the incontinence section. He quickly found it, against a wall of, thoughtfully tucked away from casual view. All sorts of products, ranging from gloves and wipes to catheters and leg bags were in the section, and each range of product was helpfully labeled. He tried to be quick about getting what he needed, and was relieved to find Mattress Protectors/Bed Pads. While Nathan was trying to be quick, he was trying to be casual as well. “Don’t want to act all weird” he thought, which was quickly followed by “maybe this is acting weird. Just pick something and go”. Nathaniel grabbed the most visually striking package that had ‘Double’ written on it, and quickly regretted his choice. KeepDry Mattress Cover from LeakPro he cringed as he read and looked at the package containing the vinyl mattress cover. It showed a night sky, with an oversized moon, and cartoon stars. Rather than feeling like an adult with a medical problem, Nathan felt, for the first time since his ex left him, like a bedwetter. He sighed as he felt his shame burn in his face. “No one’s seen me. I’ll just leave. Can’t deal with this now” Nathan thought to himself as he started to replace the package. “There you are” said a voice from behind. Feminine and soft, kind and adoring, the voice held Nathaniel fast. He gasped softly in surprise as goose bumps arose on his arms and the back of his neck, and the gentle fragrance of lavender filled his nose. For nine years, he had heard her voice. For nine years, he had begged her not to leave. Nine years, she was the reason he was here. Gently, with a just a hint of chiding, she added “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Chapter Three Falling from Nathaniel’s hand, the mattress cover hit the linoleum floor with a smack. He swallowed hard, as a thin sheen of sweat formed on his brow. His knees felt weak, and goose bumps continued to form on his skin. “Can’t be! It sound just like. Holy shit! Fuck I just dropped! Gah!” Nathan’s thoughts roared all at once. “Oh! I didn’t mean to startle you. I heard the bell, and knew someone had to be about. Let me help with that.” She said kindly. Nathan stood stock still as the woman moved beside him and bent over to retrieve the mattress cover. Despite himself, he made a quiet noise that sounded like a groan and a whimper as he watched her. As she stood up, he couldn’t help but stare. She seemed to be in her late twenties or early thirties, at a glance. Her black hair was bound in a loose bun. Errant strands of hair hung down, framing her face. The shape of her face was not that of the face in his dreams. This woman’s face had fuller cheeks, a more drastic jaw line, and the nose was more button like. It was on the whole, a more heart shaped. Her eyes, however, were the same enchanting green which stood in contrast to cream colored skin. Nathaniel stared into those eyes as his heart raced. Images of kaleidoscopic skies casting schizophrenic arrays of gloam and bright over familiar, alien, landscapes flashed through his mind’s eye. He could see her lips moving as a look of concern crossed her face. “…such a freight. Are you faint? Do you need to sit down?” Nathan caught only the last part of what she was saying, enough to know that he should respond to her question. He shook his head no in response to her question. “Poor thing” she said sympathetically “I should really get louder shoes. Heather is always complaining that she can never hear me when I come by” she continued. Nathaniel blinked a few times as he fought to regain his composure. He had to say something. Not saying something was definitely not normal. He didn’t want to be weird. He couldn’t say “I’ve dreamed of you”, that’s what a crazy person says. “Hhhhhh Hi” he stuttered out, a bit lamely “i-it’s alright. I, uh, just, uh…I was just lost in thought. I just need some, um, things.” He looked down at the woman’s hands, and noticed that she had a lab coat over her clothes, which concealed her figure. He also noticed that she was on the tall side for a woman. Not wanting to ogle more than he had, Nathan glanced at the shelf of mattress covers and bed pads, as his cheeks flushed. “I can tell” The woman said with a smirk “I just wanted to see if you needed help finding the best products to suit your needs.” She shifted the mattress cover in her hand as she joined Nathaniel in looking at the shelf. “I just need something for the night.” The indirect admission of his problem came from Nathaniel unbidden. All hope of playing it cool was lost now; he had essentially just told this woman he wet the bed. “I see. Well…This will certainly keep your mattress dry. It is one of the more durable products we have, though a touch on the noisy side” The woman offered Nathaniel a smile that was at once coy and kind. “My name is Anya, by the way; Anya Gonne. I would be happy to help you get whatever you need, or advise you in product selection, if you wish” “I’m Nathaniel” He replied, mentally kicking himself afterwards. He cleared his throat, and looked at Anya again. ‘She wants to help you. Just ask her to help you’ Nathaniel thought in a voice that wasn’t his. She was smiling softly at him. “Could you help me, please?” He asked as he looked at her, losing himself for a few moments as he looked into her eyes. She beamed happily at him. “Of course I can. Now, Nathaniel. Do you wet very often?” “Oh, I…No. I mean, recently, yes.” He replied. He wanted to take back asking her for help. He was unsure why he even asked. Was he losing his mind? Yet, he couldn’t figure out a way to gracefully back-peddle out of the situation. Anya’s smile took on a coy aspect once again. “I see. Well, a mattress cover will protect your mattress. However, it won’t keep your bedding, or yourself, dry. If you’re having more frequent night time accidents, I have some products over here that might help.” Anya led Nathan to some adjacent shelves. Nathan swallowed hard as he looked at the contents of the shelves. He knew well enough that these were diapers for adults, the kind of thing that old people wore. During one of her more cruel moments, his ex had joked about making him wear something like these. “God, I should put you in some old man Pampers , or something” she ridiculed. His heart continued to race, and he felt a swell of panic. Maybe he could run. “Do you wet much, Nathan?” Anya asked casually, as if it were a normal topic of conversation. Her voice kept his feet still, and the urge to run diminished. “Huh? Oh…yes.” He cringed, wondering what precisely motivated him to admit that. “I assume you’ve seen the doctor? “ Anya’s statement, phrased as a question, contained a maternal note of menace. “Oh, well, I’m, uh, working on that” Nathan blushed. He didn’t look too closely at the packages, most of them having labels like Assure, Abena, Dignity, UltraDry, Freedom, Gentle Care… “Tsk-tsk” Anya admonished “Do that immediately. We want to get to the bottom of this, don’t we?” her question rhetorical. Anya handed the mattress cover to Nathaniel, which he accepted in an automatic fashion. She then reached for a package as she said “In the mean time, you may want to wear these to bed. These are just like normal underwear, only a bit more absorbent. If you wet, your sheets will stay dry, and you may sleep a little better.” Anya’s smile was peculiar, her tone consoling. Nathan swallowed hard. His mouth felt rather dry. He managed a weak nod in response to Anya, hoping this would be over soon. The odor of lavender seemed to linger in the air, he noticed. “Come now, let me get these bagged up for you” Anya said softly as he she led Nathan to the back of the store where the cash wrap was located. She placed Nathan’s pull ups and mattress cover in two separate, opaque, black bags and handed them to him. “I’ve put my card in the bag with your pull ups. If you need anything else, please feel free to call whenever you like” she said to Nathan in a reassuring, almost tender, voice. Nathaniel nodded again and managed a “Uh huh.” Once he had his bags, he left the apothecary as quickly as his shaking legs would take him without completely abandoning his composure. Throwing his bags into the passenger seat of his car, Nathan buckled up and drove home. Questions roiling through his mind: ‘Oh God. What the fuck was that? Did that just happen? Who was she? I’m crazy. This is crazy. Dream women don’t happen. I dream of that voice, and I hear it the next day. My mind is fucking with me. Wait? Was she supposed to act like that? Was that professional? Agh!’ All during the drive home, and once at home until it was nearly time for bed, Nathan asked himself the questions came up again and again. Each time, they went unanswered. Strangest of all was that not at any point did he wonder why she did not make him pay.
  3. New short story! This one is about anxiety and how helpful Little stuff can be. Also! There isn't any gendered language for the protag, so feel free to self-insert. If you like it, check us out at www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding. Your support goes a long way. ----------------------------- Baby's First Love Language By Sophie Disclaimers: diapers, mature ----------------------------- “I don’t know what’s wrong.” I stirred the sauce, staring dejectedly into the little pot. “I followed the directions. I did everything right.” “Cooking isn’t a science, hun.” “It shouldn’t be this watery. It’s supposed to thicken up.” I turned up the dial on the stove; maybe it wasn’t hot enough. “I didn’t add too much olive oil, right? You said two tablespoons.” “The internet said two tablespoons.” “I just don’t understand…” I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to Ava, her face only six inches from mine. She kissed me once on the lips and took the wooden spoon out of my hand. “Get some bowls and set the table, alright?” She said it like a question, but it didn’t feel that way. “Let me worry about the sauce.” Some people have a way with words. Ava had a way with tones. She could squish more love and curiosity and kindness and sympathy and poignancy and seriousness in one word than authors could put into entire books. With a sigh of reluctance, I left her alone with the stove and went to get bowls from the cupboard. But my mind was still on the sauce. Maybe it needed to simmer for a bit longer? Or maybe I got the instructions wrong? One of the bowls slipped out of my hands and crashed down on the countertop. A sharp echo filled the room, wall to wall. “What happened?” Ava asked. “You okay?” “Yeah, it just slipped…” I picked the ceramic bowl up off the counter and turned it over. It didn’t look cracked, but my head was still ringing. My heart hurt. I set both bowls on the table - along with a pair of forks - and tried to take a deep breath. Why couldn’t I do anything right? I looked at Ava, stirring the sauce, and caught her stealing glances. She was worried. She shouldn’t be worried. It was just pasta sauce. It was just a loud noise. I forced a smile. “Be right back.” “Where are you going?” Ava asked, leaning around the corner so she could catch sight of me as I climbed the stairs. “Bathroom.” “Okay.” I took the steps at an ordinary pace; normal stair-climbing sounds filled our small townhouse. But when I got to the landing at the top, I had to pause to catch my breath. I felt nauseas. I couldn’t breathe. With a moment to steel myself, I lumbered into the bathroom, turned on the light, and closed the door behind me. I paused in front of the mirror, with my hands on the edges of the sink. My hair was heavy and oily, though I had showered the night before. My skin was creased around my mouth and forehead, like paper that had been folded and unfolded again. I recognized myself only through constant exposure to reflections and the Switch Camera button on my phone. This didn’t feel like me. The truth was, I didn’t feel like I was there at all. This was just a body in front of a mirror, looking at itself. What control did I have over my racing heart? What could I do about the sickness in my stomach? If I tried to move my hands off the sink basin, would they move? If I put them under the hot water, would I feel it? “You’re okay,” I said to myself. I looked into my eyes and tried to exhibit the slightest bit of confidence. I had to believe me. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just dinner. It’s not the end of the world.” A deep breath. Count to four. Hold it. Count to four. Exhale. Count to four. “Ava isn’t upset. You aren’t upset. No one is mad at you.” I felt lightheaded; this wasn’t working. I had to result to base instincts. I had to keep the status quo. “Do you want Ava to be upset? No. Do you want to cause any more trouble? No. So let’s chill out. Relax and you can go back downstairs and have a great dinner and everything can be normal. Cool? Cool. Great.” I closed my eyes and took another deep breath. This one was easier. I just had to calm down. A few minutes later, I stepped away from the mirror. I flushed the toilet so Ava wouldn’t wonder. I washed my hands, even though I didn’t need to. Then I opened the door to find Ava there, waiting outside the bathroom. “You okay?” she asked, two words filled with so much love and worry and curiosity and suspense and kindness and passion and thoughtfulness that I thought I would break down crying right then and there. Luckily, I was better than that. “Uh huh. No worries.” I put on another smile. “Mmhmm. Come here.” Ava wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in for a hug. She felt like a blanket; a weighted one, with soft fabric and a heating element. She pushed on the back of my head until my cheek pressed against her shoulder. “Ava…” “It’s okay, hun,” she whispered. We were the only ones in the townhouse, but her quiet tone brought a rush of emotions. Peace. Simplicity. Love. I felt tears in my eyes. “The sauce, and…” “I took care of it, don’t worry.” Took care of it? What did that mean? She had fixed the watery sauce? Or was she scrapping it? We worked on it for half an hour, and that would be such a waste. We had to eat dinner. Did she turn the burner off? What about the noodles? Ava broke our hug and held my face in her hands. She stared into my eyes and ran her thumb across my cheek. Her smile was so calm, like nothing mattered. Nothing but me. “I said don’t worry,” she repeated, though I didn’t say anything. Then she kissed me once on the forehead and I felt a heat build up in my chest. Warm, melting heat. Ava took my hand and led me down the hall toward our bedroom. I sat on the edge of our bed and kicked my feet while Ava rummaged through the closet. I already knew what she was getting, but I didn’t think it was an appropriate moment. We had to finish cooking. We had to eat. We had TV plans and we couldn’t stay up too late. I was wasting her time. Ava came back a moment later with a diaper in one hand and baby powder in the other. A heat filled my cheeks. I opened my mouth to say something, but Ava cut me off. “No worries, remember? I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to take care of everything.” “But…” “Shh.” Ava reached into her pocket and pulled out a pacifier. She put it first in her mouth, and then in mine. Like a kiss. A silly babyish kiss. I sucked softly on the teat and kicked my feet a little more. “Much better,” Ava smiled. Her tone was full of excitement, sincerity, and attention. “That’s a good baby.” I muttered something through the pacifier, but even I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say. Ava laid me back on the bed and tapped the side of my thigh, prompting me to lift my bottom. Almost instinctively, I did. Ava stripped me of my pajama pants and underwear all in one motion. She held up the diaper in front of her and unfolded it, causing a soft crinkle to echo around the room. She tapped my thigh again and I felt my bottom lift off the mattress. When I placed it down again - a few seconds later - the soft seat of the diaper greeted my bare skin. I sucked the pacifier as the smell of baby powder filled the air. A soft dusting was sprinkled between my legs. Ava pulled the diaper up and the thickness of the padding spread my thighs apart. Then, methodically, she gently pressed the top tapes onto the front of the diaper. “Aww, sweetie you look so cute in your flower diaper! This is Mommy’s favorite design, you know? You look like a magical little fairy, relaxing in a garden. That’s what you need to do: relax more.” “Mm…” No words escaped the pacifier. I sucked softly and let my eyes flutter shut. Mommy took her time after that. She pulled up on the diaper’s waistband, making sure it fit snugly. She patted the front of the thick padding, pressing down now and again to elicit a shiver. She taped each of the lower tapes slowly, folding the plastic under so that it looked nothing short of perfect. Sometimes her diaper changes could take ten whole minutes, but they never seemed to feel long enough. Mommy took my hands and sat me up on the bed. I looked up at her with glossy eyes. My heart had stopped hurting. My head had stopped aching. Things felt quiet. She kissed me once on the forehead and went to find something else: a new shirt for me to wear. I didn’t complain or whine or argue. Sometimes it was fun to throw a fit and cause trouble, but not today. I was tired of struggling. I just wanted the serendipity of being Mommy’s little baby. With little effort, she dressed me in a comfortable onesie with little bees all over it. “Now you really do look like a garden, hm?” she teased. Tenderness. Amusement. Adoration. “The cutest little garden baby in the whole world. My beautiful flower.” I felt my cheeks get hot in embarrassment, but my lips were turned up in a smile behind the pacifier. She kissed the button of my binky and crawled into bed beside me. She had forgotten to snap up my onesie, but she wasn’t one to forget anything. I followed her toward the head of the bed. “Feeling a little better?” she asked, knowing full well I couldn’t answer with the pacifier between my lips. I elected to nod my head instead; I was feeling better. “Good. Come here, I want you to know how special you are.” Mommy sat upright with her back to the headboard. She pulled on the hem of her shirt and slipped it off over her head. Then she unfastened the clasp on the front of her bra and tossed it haphazardly to the floor. I looked at her bare chest with a hint of a blush on my cheeks. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was still thinking about the pasta and the sauce and the burner downstairs. I was still thinking about wearing a diaper in front of the girl I loved, about calling her Mommy, and if she secretly hated me. I was still thinking about the interview I had in the morning and the grocery shopping I had to do afterward. But when she told me to come over to her, I did so without thinking. I crawled up into her lap and laid my head against the crook of her arm. I looked up into her beautiful brown eyes, sparkling with delight. Then I looked at her nipple, inches from my mouth. “Go on, hun,” she whispered in that same quiet tone. Peace. Simplicity. Love. “Be a good little one for Mommy.” She plucked the pacifier from my lips and quickly replaced it with her own breast. I sucked softly on the nipple, as if it was no different than the binky it had replaced. But I could feel her heartbeat in my cheek. I could hear her breathing in my ear. I felt so close to her, like we were assimilating into one person. Maybe together, I could be more competent. If I always had a part of her with me, maybe I had nothing to worry about. Ava was always capable of anything. I could be capable too. I felt Mommy’s hand between my legs, against the soft, thick padding of the diaper. Her words continued to exude that beautiful whisper, full of peace, simplicity, and love. They bathed me in her, as I continued to nurse from her breast. “There we are… such a good little baby. Suckle and relax and let all those silly grown up thoughts float away. Like clouds in the wind. Wispy and quiet and lost to the horizon.” Mommy cupped the front of my diaper in her palm and pressed the tips of her fingers into the plastic. I shivered in her arms and started to breathe unevenly. “I love you so much. Did you know that? You’re my little one, pure and true. Sometimes you get lost, and sometimes you’re afraid to be found. But you’re still there, a light in the dark woods. I’ll always find you. I’ll always help you get home.” A shiver ran up my spine as she pressed her hand firmly between my legs. The diaper crinkled with each of her movements and the rhythm of my nursing began to quicken. “Now you’re home: in your diaper, in your onesie, and in my arms. No more fear or worry or shame. No thoughts at all. You’re just an empty headed little baby now. My baby. I make your decisions, I solve your problems. All you have to do is look cute and use your diapers.” Mommy bounced me lightly in her lap, forward in back, timing each rub of my diaper with each suck on her nipple. A heat rose through my stomach, to my cheeks, and I quivered in her arms. “Prove to me… no, prove to yourself that you’re done with all that silly adult life. You’re a helpless little baby now. You’re Mommy’s helpless little baby. Give up all your control. Choose your diapers over your thoughts.” I pushed my hips into Mommy’s hand, pressing my diaper roughly against her fingers, and sucked sharply on her breast. I wondered - for only a moment - if it had caused her any pain, but that thought drift away with all the rest. I didn’t choose thoughts; I chose diapers. I shuddered and writhed in Mommy’s lap, never taking my lips off her nipple. When the convulsions started to die down, she would press her palm between my legs in an effort to start them up again. After a few minutes of quiet post-orgasmic haze, she slipped her finger between my lips and her breast. The sucking motion stopped and I looked up at Ava with starry eyes and blushing cheeks. “I love you,” she whispered, but this whisper was different. This whisper was dripping with certainty. I wasn’t thinking about the sauce or the pasta or the burner. I wasn’t thinking about the interview in the morning or the grocery shopping afterward. I was just thinking about her, in that moment, looking down at me with the most confidence in the universe. I was thinking that I needed to say something back, something I was just as confident about. I wanted to drip with certainty, so I said the only thought I had left in my head. “I love you too.” [End.]
  4. Gentlemen, For all of you with male bodies, you know that there are times when we must protect our male propriety. It is a simple fact that humans inhabiting the male gender must bear the whims of this beast. When you see a perfect 10, she says something, does something, and you start fantasizing, but you cannot afford to become erect in public. You may get what we call the no reason boner. Well, I have solved this with meditation, and a bit of know how. You have heard the expression take a cold shower. I have found something effective. I have found that meditating on the image of an iceberg floating in a deep ocean to calm me down. If I focus on this image, I become flaccid if erect, and if I am distracted by fantasy, I return to a more grounded state. I will not post the image because others have seen the medallions, they were created using a saw, a 1 inch dowel rod, and acyrlic paint. On the heads side, I have a picture of an ice berg floating in the deep ocean, on the flip side, is my eight pointed meter disguised as a sunrise. I used this in the bathroom at work, there as a father attending a small child, and grown men in there. I was able to unlock myself by using the medallion as a visualization aid. Also, when I see a "perfect 10," or my stallion of a mind starts to prowl into sexual fantasy, I look at the iceberg image, and use it to calm my mind. This restores my male propriety. I hope this technique can help my brothers who also dwell in male bodies, Stay calm my friends, Eir.
  5. Looking for some feedback on a new version of the opening to the story I'm trying to write.
  6. guys im new here so i say hi
  7. My first 'mature' ABDL story. It's about a husband and a wife who have a problem. I hope to write a lot more after this, so I hope you like it! Finding Mommy 'This isn't working.' The statement didn't come as a shock to Andrew. He knew it wasn't working. But he didn't want to look like he didn't care, so he persued it, already feeling resigned and bitter about the discussion's inevitable conclusion. 'What isn't?' he asked, softly. 'This. This whole...baby thing. I can't do it,' his wife, Tammy, waved her hand in his direction. He winced, glancing down at his apparel. A slightly soggy diaper, and a t-shirt. He'd been wearing the same thing to bed every so often for a couple months now. His wife had initially chuckled and teased him playfully, but lately...lately the playful teasing had stopped. She wouldn't remark on his padded state, except if the diaper got too close to her. 'The tapes scratch my skin,' she'd explain, but Andrew suspected it was something else. She went on. 'I'm sorry. I thought I could. I know you really want this. But I can't do it. I can't...pretend you're a baby. The diapers were one thing...but...I can't do that,' she looked away, as if preparing herself to say something upsetting. 'You know...when you first told me...you made it sound...sound like a sex thing...I don't mind that. I don't even mind...using them, sometimes...like...like before...you know?' She trailed off, looking at Andrew, a pained expression on her face. Andrew's mind flashed back to when he'd first told her, almost a year and a half ago. How she'd been so...accepting. -------------------------------- 'Are these ones good?' Tammy asked, as she patted the package. 'I wanted to make sure I got good ones...I ordered these a few weeks after you told me...they just arrived on Monday.' Andrew glanced at the large box of diapers, feeling a stirring of excitement at the fact that she'd bought so many...a whole case, in fact. God, what was she planning? Was this going to become a regular occurence? Was she going to keep him in diapers, for the whole day? Or wear herself? His head swam at the possibilities. 'I...uh...what are they?' he asked, licking his lips, nervously. 'Abena?' Tammy replied, scrunching up her face, trying to recall something. 'I...Abena X-plus? They had so many different names, but I think these are the good ones. Abri-form L4...The large ones...I wasn't sure what size we'd need...Oh.' She suddenly stopped, pausing, as if worried about what she was going to say next. She reached into her (rather mysterious, to Andrew, at least) handbag, rummaging around. Andrew waited patiently for her to speak, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the large box on the bed. Abena X-plus was sure to be a world away from what he'd tried so far. He knew these were premium diapers. He felt himself jolt back to reality as Tammy started talking again. 'I bought...these...as well...' Another package slid onto the bed, only this time it wasn't boxed or freshly delivered. It was clearly a packet of diapers. A packet of OPEN diapers. 'On the site I got the...uh...Abenas from, they were selling purple ones, too,' she said, nervously. 'So...I got some of those, in a smaller size...' Andrew's mind could have exploded at that moment. Tammy stood up from the bed, an audible crinkling coming from her pyjama bottoms. Andrew couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the bulge of her diaper before, but he certainly noticed now. He stared at her rump almost hungrily as she turned sideways, looking coyly at him, grabbing the edge of her pyjama top and starting to lift it, revealing the purple waistband of the diaper. Andrew stepped forwards, reaching out. His hand ran over her bottom, slipping off her trousers, until she was standing in just a diaper and a shirt. He patted the material of padding, pulling her close to him, hand trailing around and around the crinkly undergarment, feeling it, feeling /her/ through it. 'I...I guess you like it?' Tammy asked, feeling a little awkward. Andrew made a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan. 'Yes,' he replied, simply. 'Would you like to wear one, too?' she asked, wriggling her bottom against his crotch, making him tense a little. 'Y...yes...' he gasped, hardly believing what was happening... 'Then lay down on the bed for me...' ----------------------------- That night had been amazing. Andrew couldn't believe his luck. They'd spent the whole evening in diapers, exploring and experimenting. It felt like his wildest fantasies had come true. This beautiful woman, his future wife (he'd chosen to tell her a little while after they got engaged), was willing to wear and use diapers for him. He couldn't believe it. She seemed almost as eager as him, that evening. She did everything he'd ever fantasized about, sexually. She wet. She asked for a change. She changed him...they even had...well. Andrew wasn't sure what to call it. Lots of rubbing. Wet, squishy diapers pressing together, then pulled aside for the 'main event'. Was that diaper sex? He supposed so. It was wonderful, whatever it was. He wondered if what happened next had been a turning point. At the end of the evening, when they were snuggled in bed, she'd sighed contentedly and lazily rolled out of bed. 'Be right back, hun,' she told him huskily, slipping out of the room in an instant. She'd returned, after a couple minutes, undiapered, her bottoms now back on. She'd smiled and gotten back into bed with him. ------------ 'Why did you take it off?' Andrew asked, a little confused. 'Didn't you like it?' Tammy dodged the question, but sounded just as confused as Andrew. 'Well...we're done now, aren't we? I'm really tired...I don't think you're up to going again, even I wasn't...' She paused, sidling up to him in the bed, absent-mindedly flattening the covers over her. 'Why haven't you taken yours off?' she asked, finally. 'I...Well. I just...thought I'd like to keep it on. That's...okay, right?' A few moments ago, he'd been certain it would be. It seemed silly even to ask. But now he wasn't so sure. 'Oh. Um. Sure,' Tammy replied, smiling again. 'I love you.' She kissed him, turning away, and Andrew slipped his arms around her from behind, murmuring 'I love you, too' into her neck. --------------- 'That was okay. It made me feel...sexy. I loved that I could have that effect on you. It made me feel good, too,' she thought for a moment. 'I felt like your partner, then. I felt like I was desirable, sexually, like...like this was a special secret, between us. Something for the bedroom, something kinky and fun. I didn't care that it was nappies, I knew people had fetishes...but this isn't just a fetish, is it?' Andrew swallowed as she fixed him with a steely gaze. 'Is it, Andrew?' He shook his head 'no'. It was more than that. He wished he'd explained before. He thought she'd understood. 'You...want to be a baby, don't you?' Andrew's mouth opened in protest. 'No! I mean...not all the ti-' Tammy raised a hand, cutting him off. 'I know. Not all the time. Not most of the time. Not forever. Just occasionally, right? Like when I tried before...but for real?' Andrew swallowed and nodded again. He remembered the brief times she'd tried to play 'Mommy'. -------------- 'Uh...crawl to me...come here, you naughty little baby...' Tammy's voice was strained, as she patted the top of her legs, calling Andrew over. Meanwhile, Andrew himself was feeling...well. He wasn't sure exactly. There was something a little exciting about the humiliation his wife was bringing to this role. He found something arousing about how she threatened to spank him, how she called him names and teased him. It felt, well, /naughty/, and he decided he sort of liked that. It was very erotic. But...he wasn't looking for this to be erotic. Something was wrong. He didn't feel like a baby; he felt like a naughty boy being punished. He didn't feel safe and looked after. He felt chastised and a little ashamed. He felt unspeakably adult, despite the baby bonnet and mittens he was wearing. Instead of an innocent little baby, he was some weird guy, crawling around, pretending to be an infant, calling his wife 'Mommy'. 'Crawl to me!' Tammy repeated. Andrew sighed, starting to move. 'Yes, Mommy...' ------------------- 'I thought that was really weird, but you know...' Tammy shrugged. 'I tried. For you. I thought you wanted that. I thought it was a sex thing still.' Andrew shuffled in the bed, feeling uncomfortable. He wished he hadn't worn to bed, now. He'd felt a pang when he'd gone to pad up; his case of abenas was nearly empty; her package of molicares was two thirds full. He hadn't expected her to use them of her own volition, but it was a reminder of just how infrequently she'd worn, for him or otherwise. 'Then,' Tammy continued. 'Then you told me that wasn't what you wanted, either. You wanted it to be more...innocent...more 'snuggly'.' That last word was almost a snarl, and Andrew felt himself flinch. 'So I tried that, too. But I couldn't do it...I mean...' she sighed, pushing the hair back out of her eyes, sighing in frustration. 'Remember what I told you when you told me this stuff?' ­Andrew nodded. ­­­ ----------------- 'Aren't I...doing enough?' Tammy asked, a look of confusion on her face. 'No! No, it's not that...it's more that you're doing it the wrong way...' Andrew immediately regretted his words, seeing his wife's expression turn sour. 'No! I mean...I...I think maybe I didn't really explain what I want, not properly. It's not just the baby stuff, dressing up and that...I want...' he swallowed, hesitant. 'Well...I want it to be more...um...innocent? Like...like...I was a rea...' he stopped himself. 'Like, more snuggly? You know? Maybe some...cuddles...at bedt- at night time...I'd like to be, um...held...sometimes...' Tammy stared at him as if he had just sprouted a third head. 'So...you want me to be like your real mother?' 'No!' 'As if you were a real baby, right?' 'I...No...I mean...it's not like you're my real mother...I...I just want you to...' 'To what? Look after you? Like an infant?' Tammy demanded, her voice even. 'I...I...in a way...yes...I just don't want it to always be so...sexual...' Tammy sighed. There was a silence before she finally spoke. 'Okay. Look. This is pretty weird to me. I'm not comfortable with it. But I love you, Andrew. I always will,' she looked up as she spoke, taking Andrew's hand in her own. 'But I don't know how to deal with this. I don't think I can...do that. I'm sorry.' 'Oh.' replied Andrew, simply. He hated himself at that moment. If he'd been honest from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened. 'But,' Tammy started, nibbling her lip. 'BUT. I'd like to be okay with it. So...You can do something...something small...I don't know, you could wear a nappy to bed. And I'll try to get more comfy with the idea.' Andrew's heart leapt. Everything was going to be okay. --------------- Andrew's heart sank. Everything was going wrong. But Tammy wasn't done yet... 'I tried so hard to...to accept this. I started off like...like it was no big deal, remember? I used to tease you and you'd smile and for a bit, I thought maybe I could be okay with it. But then, then you started to...I don't know. Resent me? You pulled away. It wasn't enough for you. And maybe I pulled away, too. It hurt to see you wanting me to give you something I wouldn't, couldn't give you. It hurt to see you shut me out because I couldn't understand. So...now we're here...' 'Where is here?' Andrew said, asking, for the second time that night, a question which he really didn't feel he needed to ask, but if he didn't ask it, he knew it would appear he didn't care. 'Here? Here is...my husband wants to be treated like a baby...NON sexually...and I can't cope with it,’ she paused, seemingly thinking hard about something. Her mouth opened again, this time drawing out the sound of one little word, waiting for a statement to follow it. ‘So….’ Andrew swallowed. He waited for the crushing blow. He didn’t know what she would say, but he could guess. ‘So you can’t wear diapers anymore around me…’ ‘So I don’t want diapers in the house anymore…’ ‘So I don’t love him anymore….’ ‘So I /can’t/ love him anymore, and I think we need to get a divorce…’ He knew whatever was said next would change their relationship forever. He was about to lose something, he didn’t know what exactly, but he also knew life would be a lot harder without him. He looked up at her with grim determination, resigned to whatever awful things came out of her mouth next. ‘So…’ she began again, and Andrew felt himself stiffen, worry making his heart pound. ‘So I think we need to find him…find you…someone who can.’ Andrew gawped at her. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. What was she saying? Was she leaving him? She must be… she was just being the wonderful woman she always had been, willing to help him find a more ‘appropriate’ mate, someone who’d be happy to indulge him. He felt his eyes sting a little as tears formed, before, in the silence, another possibility occurred to him. She’d been watching him closely, and seemed to notice as a flash of something, hope, realization maybe, passed across his face. He addressed her again, voice shaky. ‘Do you mea-‘ he was cut off abruptly. ‘I mean, just someone to do that for you, you know?’ Tammy explained, her voice emphasizing the word ‘that’ in a way that made it clear she found ‘that’ distasteful. ‘I…no sex. I’m not leaving you. I love you, I always will, I think. I hope. I just…I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Andrew. And…I know this is so, so important to you. I see it, Andy, I see how much you want it…’ It’s her turn to look scared now, her eyes filled with tears, rolling freely down her cheeks. She’s shivering, but it’s not cold. Wordlessly, Andrew embraced her, his own manly sob joining her small, squeaking ones, her voice cracking as she tried to go on. ‘I…I don’t want to lose you…I’m…I wanted so badly to m…make you happy, but I CAN’T. I’m a horrible, awful wife. I’m a fuck-up. I…I don’t know why you married me!’ she howls, throwing herself into Andrew’s chest, his arms soothing her, rubbing her back, shh-ing her like you would a crying child. A tiny smile formed on his lips for a moment, as he considered the role reversal. But it was soon replaced by another kind of smile, the kind that happens when you realize maybe you’re not alone, that your partner is just as afraid of what’s happening as you. That he or she is afraid of the exact same things. It was a tearful, almost regret-filled smile. ‘If only we’d talked about this sooner…’ He shook his head, clearing his mind. Right now, he had to help Tammy feel better. ‘Ohh…oh hun…’ he said, his own voice wavering, fighting back another hard sob. ‘Shhh… you know, I’ve been worried about the same thing. I thought I was an awful husband. I wondered why you wanted to be with me. I didn’t understand. I thought…just now, you were going to leave me…’ Tammy jerked back, head snapping upwards to look at him, a look of something…hurt, Andrew decides. Hurt he’d think she would do that. Her face pink and flushed, her cheeks damp with too many tears. ‘Never,’ She retorted, instantly, and then she was back in his arms, crying anew. ‘Never…I…I NEVER want to lose you…’ Andrew smiled again, sighing, a little in relief. Of course, given her earlier outburst, he already knew that…but it was lovely to have confirmation. ‘I know Tam, I really do. Now, at least. But I want to let you know, I love you too. I don’t think you’re an awful wife…you’ve been so understanding. Please, don’t think I don’t love you, don’t think I resent you, or hate you or think ANYTHING bad about you, after you’ve tried so hard to fulfill me and my selfish, perverted desires.’ He felt her shaking her head, disagreeing, with the part about her trying so hard, or the part about his desires being perverted, or both, or something else…he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter at that moment. ‘So I’m just telling you, no matter what, I’ll love you. I’d have loved you even if you said I could never wear another diaper. I’d have loved you even if you told me you’d stopped loving me. I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself…’ Tammy’s cheeks turned a little pinker, her sobs dying down. ‘Are you sure?’ she asks, not moving to look at him. ‘Positive,’ he says, more confident now. ‘Do you feel better now?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Are you ready to talk about…it?’ ‘…Yes.’ There was a pause as Tammy pulled away, slowly, reluctantly, so she could look at him. She smiled, her eyes wandering over him, as if appreciating him newly. When she reached the diaper her expression clouded, eyes flitting back up to his, as if just remembering they had something else to discuss now. ‘So…do you mean it?’ Andrew asked, anxiously. ‘Yes.’ He looked unconvinced, so Tammy continued. ‘I don’t have a problem with it. I really don’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, an-‘ ‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’ ‘Wh-what?’ ‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’ Andrew repeated, his tone not demanding or forceful, but genuinely curious. ‘I…well…’ Tammy looked away, embarrassed. ‘I was scared…’ ‘Why?’ ‘Well…first I was worried you’d say no, because she wouldn’t be me, and you wouldn’t be able to feel anything with her. And if you said no, I’d be out of options. I don’t know what would h-happen if…’ her voice broke again, eyes swimming with tears. Andrew frowned slightly. ‘What else?’ ‘I was afraid if you said yes, you would love her...too much. You’d leave me. Because you don’t love me at all, not anymore…how could you? I mean-‘ Andrew squeezed her hand suddenly, shaking his head, stopping her from working herself up again. ‘Not true, love. I want you. I love you. I’m not going to replace you. Even if I agree to this, I promise,nobody’ll never replace you…are you sure you’re okay with this?’ Tammy nodded. ‘Yes.’ ‘What…sort of things would she, uh, do?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Tammy admitted, seeming to shrink back a little. ‘I mean…change you? Give you bottles…pacifiers…play with you like a real baby.’ Andrew felt his heart flutter twice; once at the prospect of a genuine Mommy in his life, after so long… and once at the sudden feeling of utter love for Tammy that swept over him. ‘The ideal woman…’ he thought, snorting somewhere inside his head at how corny that was. ‘Would I be allowed to call her Mo…’ Andrew blushed, dropping his voice to a whisper. ‘Mommy?’ he finished, waiting. ‘Yes. Of course. I mean, that’s what you want, right? A Mommy? For the…the baby inside you? Just no sexual stuff. Please. I need that from you.’ Andrew nodded unhesitatingly. The thought of having sex with another woman (beyond occasional fantasies) had never even crossed his mind. He was missing an emotional, platonic, maternal bond, not a passionate sexual one. They both smiled a moment, almost in triumph. They were still together. This might just work out. ‘So…’ Tammy started, grinning now. ‘So…’ Repeated Andrew, a playful smirk joining hers. ‘What do we do now?’ ‘Now? Now we sleep. I’m so tired. I just want to be held. I’m so…worn out…’ she leant forwards again, nuzzling his chest, smiling softly. She sighed, a long, happy sigh, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. ‘Okay…do…you want me to go change before we-‘ ‘No. I don’t want you to leave.’ Her tone was demanding that time, and Andrew chuckled. She wriggled, pulling the covers out from under them both, as they each shuffled and worked to lie down, his arms still wrapped around her. Their heads reaching the pillows, Tammy smiled wearily, shifting away a little, finding her husband’s body too warm for comfort. He leaned forwards and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Goodnight Tammy…’ ‘Goodnight…’ she hesitated, wondering if she was really going to say this, worrying he’d take it the wrong way. She stopped hesitating. ‘Baby,’ she added, one hand slipping down and squeezing the soggy bulge of his diaper. She watched his face for a reaction. Andrew blushed a little as she withdrew her hand. It was a simple, loving gesture. A show of acceptance. It hadn’t meant anything else. She wasn’t going to baby him. She didn’t see him that way. She didn’t want to be ‘Mommy’. She was his wife, and she was just showing how much she cared, how safe he was with her, how much she truly wanted him to be happy, even in this. At that moment, that was all that Andrew needed. He lifted his hand to squeeze her retreating one, smiling. ‘Thanks,’ he said, earnestly. With that, she sighed slightly and turned around, snuggling into him backwards. Tomorrow, she thought, was sure to be a very interesting day.
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