Cloth Diapers & Panties

They have similar themes, and The Adventures of Pinocchio. Story of a Puppet was published 20 years before Peter Pan; or, The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up.  From what I've heard/read, JM Barrie created the character of Peter Pan by himself, however authors usually base their characters on what they've read and know. It's better than the shared universe theory I have with The Big Bang Theory and Breaking Bad. Penny's apartment in Pasadena is way too big for a waitress at Cheesecake Factory.  It's a nice one bedroom apartment.  We know her brother went to prison for selling meth, and her dad is supposedly a humble farmer in Omaha (which a strange choice). Meanwhile, the Hoover Vacuum salesman chooses to send Saul to Omaha, which means he has connections in Omaha.  It's my theory that Wyatt is Gus's front man in Omaha, and maybe even the entire Midwest region.  It explains a couple of things: we never learn Penny's last name, and before he was introduced, he was called 'Bob'.   it's a very secretive family, and it would explain why Penny was living on her own in a fancy Pasadena apartment.  It also might explain how a girl with no college degree could become a Pharmaceutical Sales Rep

Thanks for this.  I missed it.

It's such a hard topic to research, and some of the few who've done it, have faced heavy criticism.  But, from what we know, there a very strong correlation between being ABDL as an adult, and those feelings starting childhood.  Most of us will admit that we first experience ABDL before we hit puberty.  In most cases, we've felt this way pretty much our entire lives. The question I would ask, what is the correlation between children who feel this, and still feeling  that way as an adult.  Especially when the feelings start before puberty

First ever post, i usually dont try to make friends in this community as im very bad at it but im deciding to just give it a shot. honestly just bored and i like seeing people excited about the thing im also excited about so, how are my destiny players enjoying the renegades DLC? love it? hate it? i would love to just chat about the game honestly!

Unless I've got confused (it's more than a year since I wrote that part of the story, and we've all passed a lot of water since then) we know that Brock 'had' a son. But it's not something he wants to talk about; so beyond that we know very little.   In any case, I was beating myself up for going so slow on the next chapter… planned to have it released as a Christmas chapter. But now it's finished, I realise that it was much longer than I expected. So maybe I wasn't writing that slowly after all.   75. Freedom Clause “Oh, it looks like somebody’s been having fun!” The cheerful voice was Dr Rennie’s, and both Nina and Isadora turned towards him as he walked over from the door. Isadora was still trying to put together a mental map of this place, but she thought that he might have come from the outside door, rather than the nursery space downstairs. That made sense; Rennie only came in occasionally, and he didn’t need to talk to the babies outside of his hypnosis sessions. Nina’s nervousness was clear from the way she immediately tried to clean paint-coated hands on a paint-covered apron; and then tried the equally-thick muddy rainbow on the sides of her shirt. Isadora looked down at herself, and realised that she must be in just as much of a mess. She wasn’t sure if they had been painting for five minutes or thirty, but they had both created a large number of pictures, both on pieces of paper and on the sheets that protected the walls and floor. And when their only implements were their hands it was quite natural that their surroundings would get a liberal coat of paint as well. Occasional bouts of dancing, tickling, and trying to paint on each other wouldn’t have helped much either. “I did a house!” Nina said, pointing at her latest masterpiece. “I did hand prints for the roof, with my hands. Now I got paint all over.” “Yes, you do,” Rennie said, and gave a knowing chuckle. “It can be fun getting a little dirty, can’t it? Your hands are all sticky with all those pretty colours, but it doesn’t feel bad because you’re having fun.” Nina nodded, a little nervously. And then she shot a quick glance towards Isadora, who flashed her a supportive smile. It sounded like what Nina had picked up from eavesdropping on her Daddy was correct: Dr Rennie was going to give her a messing trigger, so that Victor could say a word and Nina would quickly be more willing to make a mess with whatever toys came to hand. “But I bet you’ll want to get cleaned up now, won’t you?” Rennie continued, and Nina nodded again. She seemed a little more sure of herself this time. “So come on, and let’s get your hands washed. Okay? And maybe we can get you in the bath as well, to get all those pretty colours out of your hair. You can get all clean again, and nice and warm. And maybe I can talk to you while you play with your soap and duckies. Does that sound nice?” Nina nodded quickly, and reached out to take Rennie’s hand when he offered it. There was a squelch of paint being squeezed out between their palms, but Rennie didn’t show any sign of noticing. He led Nina away, and the room suddenly seemed big and empty. Isadora looked at Stella’s pictures again; she wondered if she should keep on doing more until Nina got back, but it didn’t seem like so much fun on her own. “Hello, Stella,” a voice from behind her made Isadora spin around on the spot. It was Lorenzo this time, coming up the elevator from somewhere inside the building. She wondered what he could have been doing down there, when both of the babies were taking advantage of the light shining through the skylights up here. “Have you done enough painting now? Would you like me to help you get cleaned up while Rennie is busy with Nina?” “Umm, I…” Isadora stammered, and found herself automatically taking a half step back. She was sure that she didn’t want a man to touch her in this place. Even Lorenzo, who had only ever been kind to her, made her feel a little nervous. Was that just because of the tale Nina had told her? About how Victor and Bernard might like to touch her during a diaper change? Or had she developed an instinctive aversion to men after the way Omar had tried to treat her? “It’s okay,” Lorenzo said. His words were calm, his tone gentle. Dressed in casual grey slacks and a check shirt, he looked more like an ageing schoolteacher than any kind of crime lord. Like every time he came to see her, Lorenzo’s attitude convinced her that he was a good person. When she got out of here, she was sure, her first mission would be looking through all the police files to find out how they had managed to point so many accusations at a real pillar of the community. “Okay?” she whispered cautiously. “Your daddy says nobody else should touch you unless you’re happy with it, and Daddy knows what’s best for you, doesn’t he? I’d like to talk to you, but I can wait while Claudine or one of her nannies helps you to get cleaned up if you prefer. Or you can try to wash yourself, if you can do it without making a mess. What do you think, Stella?” “Can I… uhh…” Isadora hesitated. She could try to tell herself that she was playing up the confused role for baby Stella, but deep down she knew that she didn’t really know what she was allowed to say. She decided to just go for it. “I mean… I said some stuff to Dr Rennie that’s maybe too grown-up for what I’m allowed to say?” “It’s okay,” Lorenzo said. “I’ll talk to you if you want. And you can say grown-up words if you need to, for now. Because I want you to be comfortable here, and you’ve worked out so much that I think you should know. So… Do you want to try getting cleaned up first?” “Some wipes would be nice,” Isadora tried, half expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment. Would she still be punished if Lorenzo said it was okay? Was this a trap, or did he not really know how strict the nannies could be? But no punishment rained down from the skylights. Instead, Lorenzo offered her a packet of baby wipes, and held the door open so that she could get into a small tiled room with a potty, sink, and a couple of tiled surfaces where she could sit or lie down. Isadora did her best to wash her face, and to get clumps of thick paint out of her hair with her head bent over the sink. And then she used one wipe after another to scrape the layers of paint off her hands. To start with it mostly just smeared all the colours around, but each wipe dropped towards the bin with a little more paint on it, so she could be sure that she was getting it off. Some of it, at least. Her clothes were still pretty much caked in paint, but at least her hands were clean now. She knew that cleaning her clothes would be much harder, and she didn’t really think it would be possible to do all by herself. And perhaps more importantly, she didn’t want to wait when Lorenzo had said that she was allowed to talk now. She didn’t know how long the offer would last for, after all. She grabbed a towel and rubbed it roughly over as much of her body as she could reach, giving a little shimmy as it moved slowly down her back. Maybe that took the thickest paint deposits off, she wasn’t so sure. All she knew was that she was a little cleaner than she had been before, and she was probably comfortable enough going back to Lorenzo like that. It wasn’t like he would be touching her anyway. “There she is,” Lorenzo greeted her with a cheerful smile. “All clean now, baby?” Isadora just nodded. She didn’t want to argue with the name anymore, and she felt that it was becoming more appropriate the more time passed here. She just needed them to think Stella was playing along so that she could get out of here sooner; and to find out more about this place so that she would have something to impress Daddy with when she was back with him. “Good girl. I think you might still have some paint on you, but nothing that won’t come out at bath time. And now, would you like to come sit on my lap so I can read you a story? I’ve got one that you really might like. Or if you prefer, we can talk about what you said to Dr Renault. “We can talk?” she said, a little nervous still. She was flying blind now, with no idea how this place normally dealt with babies who insisted on acting adult. When she had first come down here, wherever here was, she had been disciplined and had her freedoms taken away until she promised to talk like a child. But Lorenzo, it seemed, didn’t quite follow the rules that he had presumably written for his staff. “I mean… if that’s okay?” “Of course it’s okay,” he answered. “My main concern is helping you to be happy. You and every nervous little girl who comes here. Sometimes you might need a little push to accept the big, scary changes. But I think this is something you can’t be in denial about any longer. So we can talk. Your Daddy agrees that it would be better to tell you about your options, so we can make sure we’re following the path that makes both of you happiest.” “Thank you,” she whispered. She looked down at her feet, and then her eyes darted around the floor. Lorenzo was sitting in his familiar chair now, like this was a playtime like any other, and she noticed that all the pictures she and Nina had drawn were already pinned up around the walls, and the bowls of paint cleared away. There were no real clues there, but looking away made it easier for her not to meet Lorenzo’s gaze, so that she could put her nervousness about the upcoming conversation out of her mind for a moment. However, she also noticed that there were no other seats around. She could stand, or sit on the floor, but neither would be quite comfortable. And she didn’t know what messages would be conveyed by sitting in Lorenzo’s lap while they held a serious adult conversation. In the end, she decided that there were no right answers here, and went with her instincts. She didn’t know if those instincts were entirely her own, but at least she could do something that felt natural. She looked up again, and saw that Lorenzo was holding his hands to either side, leaving his lap free for a little one. She ran closer and jumped up, playing the childish role that had become so easy over the weeks or months she had been here. Lorenzo put an arm around her waist so that the wouldn’t fall off, but nothing more inappropriate than that, and somehow she could feel safe again. “So,” he said, his mouth just far enough to one side that it didn’t feel like he was whispering in her ear. “A story? I’ve got a shiny picture book with wipe-clean pages if you want that. Or I can answer any questions you’ve got, and we can talk about adapting your treatment to your own desires.” “Let’s talk,” she said, her voice quavering. She wasn’t sure why she was still so fearful when he had actually invited her to talk. But then she realised that it was because of all the things she would have to say. If he told her everything, and if he let her choose which parts of the treatment she agreed to, it would mean that she had chosen this. And that was much heavier on her emotions than being subjected to Bernard Klein’s fictional fetish against her will. She had probably already given them the impression that Stella was willing to play along, so Lorenzo must think that she was really into these things. If she learned the details of what was going on, if Lorenzo asked whether she was willing to continue, she didn’t know how to respond. She might have to say ‘yes’ to preserve her cover. But she didn’t know if she could actually agree to any of this. “So, I’m sure you have questions,” Lorenzo said. “I’ve talked to your Daddy a lot about what is best for you. So, if you ask me, I can probably tell you most of what you want to know.” “Would you really be honest?” she said. “I mean… this has all been one trick, taking my choice away. You talk like you care, but I think this is a job for you, in a real way. Even if these… activities, if they mean something to you.” “I care about you,” Lorenzo said, in a strict tone that didn’t allow for argument. “I’m sorry, maybe that’s hard to believe. But every girl who comes here, I care about all of them. I need to get to know someone, before I can be sure she would enjoy a visit to our little playhouse. I always get to know the little girls, and I would never allow the procedure to start unless I was already sure that Daddy has their best interests at heart. I know it must be hard to believe, when your agency has been taken away, but it’s true. I take comfort very seriously for all of our girls. And you, especially. You learned krav maga, didn’t you?” “I… what?” Isadora stammered. Did he already know about the Agency? Had Brock spilled the beans already? Was she doing her best to maintain her cover when it was already blown. “I’ve looked at the security cameras,” Lorenzo said. “I saw you fight, as well as you were able. You had the odds stacked against you, but you were able to defend yourself. And I can promise you, although Rennie tells me that I shouldn’t talk to you like an adult, I can tell you that our security staff aren’t in the same group as the nannies. They guard this place, as well as helping with any heavy lifting, but a security guard should never have been able to see you without supervision. This matter has now been dealt with, and I will be reviewing our hiring procedures.” He had to be talking about Omar. But how could she even clarify that to be certain, when she didn’t know the man’s real name? She just had to nod and listen. Although he was speaking in vagueness, Lorenzo had pretty much told her that Omar would not be back; and that his behaviour was clearly not allowed here. That set her mind at risk somewhat, but she found herself wondering if there were girls who were actually open to that kind of aggression from their faux-Daddy figures, and whether they might have found it harder to keep their wits about them; or might have been less able to fight him off. She had no way of knowing how many times Omar had tried that before, and somehow that set her nerves on edge more than being attacked herself. “Has he…” she mumbled. “Has he treated other girls like that, when nobody was looking? I think some other girls might not be as capable… Wait, you know krav maga? Well enough to recognise the stance?” “I used to know someone who studied it,” Lorenzo said with a sigh. “She studied a lot of martial arts, actually, but it was one of her favourites. She used to point out the different styles in movies when we watched things together. It’s fascinating, when you start looking for it, how much nuance there can be in what looks like a simple fight scene.” “I never thought about it like that,” Isadora mumbled. How many movies had she watched since she had learned some basic combat techniques for her field training, and never even thought to look for those details. “Was she one of your prisoners here? One you knew well, I’ll guess.” “We’re not here to talk about other little ones,” Lorenzo said, with a faint note of disapproval almost hidden behind some emotion Isadora couldn’t start to put a name to. She could tell that it took him some effort to stay calm, but she didn’t know if it was anger or regret struggling to make itself heard. “There’s someone you remind me of, but we’re not going to talk about her. I’ll answer any questions about your treatment, and I’ll give you choices about how we proceed, as far as your Daddy’s directives allow, but some things… Let’s talk about something related to your stay here, if you don’t mind?” Isadora nodded slowly. She knew that this was intense, and being brushed off like that only put an edge on her curiosity. But she also knew that pushing wouldn’t get her any answers, and could even create a situation where he was no longer willing to share. She had to address the questions she was allowed to ask first. But it took her a long moment deep in thought before she decided on a better place to start. “You hypnotised me,” she broke the silence, and then hastily corrected herself. “Or… Rennie did. You made me… I mean… you made me do this stuff, like I can’t help it. And I don’t know how much of the things I’m thinking, or feeling, is what you told me to feel. I don’t know what’s real.” “Then let’s set the record straight,” Lorenzo said calmly. “Rennie hasn’t conditioned you to enjoy anything, or to be more comfortable with it. The furthest he has gone is asking you to imagine some idealised scenarios. To show you a fantasy in which allowing yourself to regress would be less controversial. So you can access your own feelings without any thought about how society expects you to react. Feelings that you might have denied, even to yourself. They’re your feelings, even if you hide from them behind mental barriers you have been taught to erect.” “Okay,” she responded, after a break that lasted a lot longer than she had intended. She didn’t believe that, but it had an edge of plausibility. There might be parts of this that she would enjoy, if her experimentation had gone a little further. The innocent moments playing with toy trains, for one. She was sure that joy was real, because she had felt it long before she met Dr Rennie. And if she wanted more answers, she knew she would have to act like she trusted him. So she would put that question aside for now. “Okay, if I believe that… That only works for feelings. I know you’ve done something to make me…” Isadora leaned away, swallowed, interleaved her fingers. Any movement to postpone the moment she would have to actually say what was on her mind. It was hard to believe, after how helpless she had been, that asking questions was the point when her shame threatened to stop her. But finally she summoned all her courage. “You made me wet myself,” she said. “Is that hypnosis, or just drugs? You gave me a trigger, right? You did the same for Nina, I should have guessed, but I didn’t even think about it until just now.” “There are a few post-hypnotic suggestions,” Lorenzo answered, and then there came a long pause. Isadora kept quiet, sure that he would give a better answer if she just waited. Eventually he continued, his words crisp and calculated: “I think you might overestimate just how much control we have over you. I’ll tell you that we have given you two suggestions which fit the classical definition of a trigger. One used only by Dr Renault, to help you return to trance so that he can build on the foundation of simple suggestions and ensure that all your training works as expected. And the other, usable only by your Daddy or someone you have given permission to. Although while you remain in this place, all of the Nannies are considered to be delivering messages on behalf of Daddy, so you should accept our words as if they were his until your graduation ceremony.” “I see,” she said slowly. “So… you can say the – what is it, the trigger phrase? – now, but after this graduation it’ll only be Da– Bernard who can say it?” “Exactly,” Lorenzo said with a smile, and Isadora felt a little wave of pride at impressing one of the grown-ups. That had to be another suggestion, didn’t it? But he continued: “Well, actually, I’ll always be able to say the word. But you will only find yourself responding to it if you believe you have given me permission; or if it is said as part of the training that your Daddy has chosen for you while you are here in the Pink Room.” “The Pink Room,” Isadora said, and gave a little laugh. She knew now that she was closer to her adult identity than she normally was when playing with Lorenzo; because she actually realised that was the first time anyone had said that name since she was down here. It would be completely new to Stella, so she had to play the part. “I think… someone I used to know in college talked about a place called the Red Room, I think it was in one of his comic books. And another friend told me about what a Green Room is like. I wonder if yours is named after either of those?” “Actually, I don’t know,” Lorenzo said, with a little laugh. “My son was the first one to call this place the Pink Room. I never had a name for it. And he doesn’t know what we do down here, I tried to shield him from some of the stranger parts of our family. But of course, he knows that there is something here, and had all kinds of fanciful guesses when he was younger. Claudine heard it, and thought it was funny. The name kind of stuck, and I’m not sure why it fits so well. I always imagined it as kind of like the green room in a theatre, where little girls can get ready to play the role they always wanted but couldn’t admit. But maybe it’s something from comic books after all?” “It could be both,” Isadora said diplomatically. “In any case,” Lorenzo quickly steered the conversation away from his family. “Yes, we gave you two triggers. And there were also some background suggestions. Things to guide the way you think and feel, whenever you are in a situation where they feel appropriate to you. But I promise you, those will not make you feel anything, or do anything, that you aren’t comfortable with. So, you have three different sets of minor hypnotic suggestions. And I believe that rather than any of those, the largest changes in your behaviour will have come from your own pleasure. You have found it possible to enjoy many of the activities down here, haven’t you? It could be that you have simply found acting as a child again wasn’t as unpleasant as you’ve been told it would be. So you start to play along out of instinct, just because something in your subconscious mind knows that you like it more than you think it should.” “I…” Isadora was ready to snap at him, but then she forced herself to quiet down. That wasn’t true, none of it was true. She reminded herself that she was appalled by the thought of being made to wet herself, or of having her control taken away completely. But she was playing the role of Stella, who had a stronger baby streak than she could admit waiting below the surface. For Stella, this expertly-crafted explanation could have been more persuasive, so she had to play the part. “Maybe? I mean… if I focus on the freedom and try to ignore all the… you know…” “I understand,” he said. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this kind of denial, and trying to understand it. It can be a difficult pill to swallow, I know that. Please, trust me when I say that I know that better than you could ever imagine. But when you get through it, when you can let yourself enjoy regression without allowing society’s expectations stand in the way, you will know that it was worth the hard moments. Please, trust me on that. But now, if you want to ask about any of those sets of suggestions, I will be happy to tell you anything that will help you to understand.” Isadora nodded again, the gesture just to buy her time while she gathered her thoughts. She had played through all kinds of scenarios during her field training course, different kinds of analysis she could use, and different situations she might have to maintain her cover in, but in the real world it seemed like they all hit at the same time, and didn’t give her time to consider all the different guidelines. How could Brock do this so easily, when he was keeping up a dozen different lies at once with different people? “Okay,” she said, buying herself another second or two. The trigger for Rennie – and she suddenly realised that Lorenzo had used the man’s real name without her even noticing – was probably just to make her go into trance when he asked her to count down. She knew that one, so she didn’t need to ask. And the trigger that only Daddy could use, she figured, she didn’t really need to learn about except as a curiosity. Once she was out of this place she would never hear the word again, or at least not be compelled to respond to it. She told herself that Brock would never say it, and this time she almost managed to believe it. So that left one option to ask about. “The one that isn’t a trigger,” she said. “It’s like… all the time? How does that work? What does it make me do? I mean, you said it doesn’t, but I keep finding that I’ve done things I would never… What’s the deal?” “You’re like an actor, Stella,” Lorenzo said, and Isadora was sure from the confidence that he had rehearsed this little speech many times. Maybe he had three monologues memorised, and was simply letting her choose which order to hear them in. But if he was that nervous, somehow that made it seem like he was likely to be honest here. She knew she would have to do her best to spot lies, but her instincts said that nobody who sounded so clearly rehearsed and anxious could be lying to her. “I’m not,” she mumbled. “You are. Somewhere deep down, you see Baby Stella as a role you’re playing, separate from the Adult Stella persona that society demands. And that’s where our suggestions step in. As long as you are playing Baby Stella, acting according to that role, the posthypnotic suggestion makes it feel more real to you. That’s all. When you’re dressed like a baby, wearing a diaper or a romper, or throwing yourself into playing with your toys, all thoughts that this is just a role can be pushed to the back of your mind. The gap between imagining what a baby would think or want and actually doing those things will get narrower. Worries about being judged by others will not occur to you unless there is an ‘other’ present who could judge you. You will be able to act on impulse, with your subconscious granting you permission to do the things that you want to do deep down. Even if you’ve spent your life being taught that you shouldn’t want those things, or telling yourself that you don’t really want them. While you are playing the role of Baby Stella, your decisions will be made on the basis of what you really want at your core, and what you would imagine Baby Stella wanting. Things that you know are irrational in your adult mind, or fear of judgement, or things you have been taught, will take a back seat. Unless, of course, you are in a situation where childlike actions could cause genuine danger. Whether that’s playing with dangerous things, or lisping in front of someone who doesn’t understand your desire to regress. I promise, Stella, that you will be able to resist regression in front of anyone who doesn’t know. All we have changed is a restriction to your inhibitions. Now, the knowledge that some action would be seen as ‘weird’ or ‘wrong’ will only stop you in the presence of someone who could really observe you. Not an irrational fear of discovery because of anything from your upbringing, Understand?” “Yeah…” Isadora nodded slowly. And she found herself wondering if that same suggestion would also make it easier for her to act like Stella when she wasn’t regressed. Getting lost in the role, and feeling your character’s emotional state, was something she had heard some actors talk about. Making that easier… it was entirely possible that Dr Rennie had made it easier for her to maintain her cover without even meaning to. But that didn’t explain all of the helpless moments, even if he was being completely honest. “Yeah,” she said again. “But there’s a trigger. I know there is. Sometimes, it’s not my choice. You can make me… the nannies can make me feel really small even if I try not to. Can bring Baby Stella out when they want, even if I don’t expect it to be enjoyable. And you did too, I’m pretty sure. You made me… That’s the trigger, isn’t it? The one Daddy asked for?” “It is,” Lorenzo said, and gave a gentle nod. “There are many reasons someone might ask for a trigger like that. Because sometimes you might believe that you need to be in charge, even when Daddy knows best. Because you enjoy having the choice taken away, so the responsibility isn’t yours. Heck, some girls get an indescribable thrill from having their self-control taken away. And I don’t want to judge that. But, yes, there is a trigger there. One word that your Daddy can say, or someone acting on his behalf. Initially, the doctor tried to construct it so that one word would make you have a potty accident, bringing back memories of the times in the nursery when you couldn’t hold it any longer. And that would be sure to make you feel childish, bringing back the Baby Stella role if you feel safe doing that, even if it wasn’t your intention or desire.” “Initially?” Isadora restricted herself to a single word here, a little afraid of what would come spilling out if she started talking without properly analysing the gap between Stella’s feelings and her own. She needed to know about this trigger, she was sure; but she was also afraid of the answers. “You surprised us,” Lorenzo said, and he was almost laughing now. “You were able to resist that suggestion better than we expected. There’s an iron will in there somewhere, and Dr Renault had to work around that by giving quite a detailed description of how a child who couldn’t help it might feel. Even so, you were able to hold it longer than we’d expected. Now, we know that some girls might have deeper-ingrained inhibitions, if they come from strict households or religious families. Some parents are really good at nurturing a fear of being different. But we had to talk to Daddy, because it’s got to be his choice how hard we push you. We don’t resort to drugs except in specific situations, so that’s something your Daddy needs to give his input on. And… well… he said you’re cute. Trying to resist, when you know you won’t be able to. Doing a potty dance like a toddler, until the dam bursts and you let go of all your grown-up thoughts at once. And when we looked at it in that light, well, we decided to make those seconds of resistance a part of the trigger. The longer you can hold it, the deeper into your little headspace you will eventually fall. Like stretching a rubber band, the further you stretch it the harder it will snap back. So that’s what you have now; a word that will send you into a well-rehearsed scene, desperately trying to hold your pee like a toddler in the hardest part of potty training, until you eventually give in and acknowledge that you must be a baby after all.” “I…” Isadora stammered. It was so easy to imagine that scenario. To imagine Baby Stella as a toddler, betting every tiny glimmer of bigness on her ability to control her bladder, and then giving in. And after what Lorenzo had already told her about maintaining her role, she could see how that would inexorably lead her to complete and total mental regression. It was a powerful suggestion, and adapting it like that seemed like a genius decision that was just beyond her ability to really understand. It was beautiful in a way, but not what she wanted. She reminded herself that any desire she had for that was only a part of Stella’s role, the one she was playing so well, and that she would never think about it again once she was free to be herself. But even so, she had to know what words had so much power over her. If she was understanding correctly, someone had said the words already before she slipped into the childish mindset. When she was still playing the part of adult Stella. And somehow she hadn’t noticed. Could that be possible? “Wow…” she said. There was no way she could completely keep the admiration out of her voice. Regardless of her own desires, a trigger phrase and hypnotic suggestion that would turn her own inhibitions against her like that was a work of genius. Almost like a mental martial art, where you could use the enemy’s strength against them. But she had to know. “What’s the trigger?” Lorenzo hesitated. “What? Is that a question too far?” “I can tell you if you want,” Lorenzo said, and Isadora realised before he said it how that sentence was going to end: “But if I say it… well…” “Okay. So, we should just talk? Will Nina come back here after… I mean, I kind of gathered she’s going to get a new trigger. To help her make a mess, right? And you’re going to use the paint on her fingers to get her used to being messy. Remind her that she had fun, and tell her that the fun is worth being icky. Right?” “You’re a very smart girl, Stella. And yes, Nina is getting a new messing trigger. But I will ask you not to talk to her about that, so that she can have a nice surprise when her daddy chooses to show her how messing feels for the first time. You wouldn’t want to spoil her treat, would you?” Isadora shook her head. She really didn’t know how much of Nina’s treatment was things she would have been okay with, or things she might want. But after hearing how she talked about it, and how Lorenzo described the triggers, it left almost no doubt that Nina would enjoy the new trigger, once her neat freak tendencies were out of the way. She had even shown willing, and it wasn’t like leaving paint or toys strewn everywhere could be a real hazard to someone who was willing to learn that trigger. “Okay,” she said. “So what now? Read a book until she gets back? See how little I feel, while I’m trying to digest all this new information?” “If you want,” Lorenzo said. “It’s your choice. You can let what I’ve told you sink in, so you can think about it. Or you can try to lose yourself in Clover’s adventures. Or you can ask me what your trigger is. I think you should be able to remember it, if I tell you. But you’d still hear me say it. So maybe the question is whether knowing is a good enough excuse for giving up your adulthood, so you don’t have to feel guilty about it. It’s your choice, Stella. Today, at least, it really is up to you.” “I…” Isadora took a deep breath. Stella didn’t have anything like the same curiosity, but Stella had enjoyed being babied even if she wasn’t ready to admit it. Isadora told herself that she didn’t have those desires, but she still needed to know what the trigger was. It was a gap in her knowledge, an itch she couldn’t scratch. “Can I try to resist it? I mean, if I know the trick, maybe I’ll be able to fight it. Can I try?” “Of course,” Lorenzo said. “You can always try. Maybe it’s a fun game. There’s no obligation to tell me you want it. So I’ll tell you, and you try extra hard to keep your pull-ups dry. And then whether you’re proud of winning or losing that little game, we can read about Clover while we wait for Nina to get back. Does that sound fair?” Isadora nodded slowly, building up confidence that knowing what was coming would make it so much easier to resist. “Good. Now, your trigger is just one word. And I wouldn’t normally consider something you might hear by accident, but if it only works for people you want to give that power to, I think it is safe enough. I hope you agree with that. So the trigger to send you back to childhood is just one word. Ready now?” Another nod, but she focused on her bladder, on how easily she should be able to resist when she barely needed to go anyway. “Good luck,” Lorenzo said, and the words seemed genuine. “Babygirl.” Isadora nodded, anticipating a challenge to her self control. But she was still aware of all her adult thoughts, all her feelings. She was aware of the pressure in her tummy, and she knew what it meant. She wasn’t a baby yet, she would be able to hold onto her big girl thoughts until she made oopsies, and she could still fight it now. And then she knew that she had heard the word so many times before. Babygirl. That was it, and she hadn’t even thought about it. She could feel the pressure building now, and she knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t make it feel any less real. She tried pressing her legs together and squirming from side to side, putting off the inevitable moment when her tinkles were about to escape. She was just like a toddler struggling to hold it, and the more she envisioned herself in that role the more real it felt. Getting lost in the role already, and she hadn’t even… When she felt the first little spurt of pee escape, it confirmed in her mind that she was a babygirl who shouldn’t be able to hold anything inside. Thoughts or pee. She just let herself relax, and let it all go. And then Stella didn’t need to worry about anything but letting Unca Lolo read to her.