Cloth Diapers & Panties

I think Tess is probably better at it; because she thinks a lot about what everyone around her wants, not just her own fantasies. In the normal case, this makes her scared of disappointing the people around her; especially Gabby, who's done so much to help her with this unexpected bedwetting problem. But when she's in a corner, it means she knows what buttons to push. Imagine how Gabby would respond to "Spike's moving in or I'm leaving, your choice" She might not like it, but Tess actually knows the law, and could probably completely derail all of Gabby's plans. (Also, for some reason it's missing from this book, but Tess learned last night that Gabby is planning to propose next Friday. That's big stakes, and a secret she can use to manipulate Gabby if she really has to)

I have the app on my android. Thats how i use  spandi

Tess, honey, sweetie. No. In a way I love how Tess is channeling Gabby here. On the other hand Gabby is not going to be as receptive to this. Either that or suddenly be better suspiciously guilty. Actually, I change my mind. Yes Tess, yes. Do it.

Buyer Beware The hairs on the back of Karissa’s neck stood up on end when the first pack of baby bottles went into the shopping cart.  The Little woman shuddered as the plastic bottles rattled around like loose bowling pins in the cart’s crisscrossing wire frame.  Bottles. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d drank from one. Karissa didn’t even drink bottled water or sodas out of some superstitious fear that some Amazon would use that as justification to shove a nipple (rubber or real) in her mouth.  There had been instances where sipping from a straw felt like tempting fate. Karissa had taken control of her own fate, however.  Regrettably, every course likely ended here in the baby section. No one had complete mastery over their fates; Littles least of all it seemed. Morgan’s hand came gently down on Karissa’s shoulder. “It’s mostly for night time,” the Amazon promised as if reading her mind.  “The rest of the time you’ll have sippy cups and juice boxes.” As if to prove it she very purposefully reached left of the bottles on the shelf and selected a pack of reusable sippy cups.  “See?” A playful warmth radiated behind her eyes. “If you’re really good, you can drink from straws.”  One resentful glare from Karissa extinguished those glowing embers. “Sorry!” Morgan blushed. “I’m having too much fun, I know.”   Morgan was a good friend, but she was still an Amazon.  After today, Morgan would be more than a good friend; she’d be Karissa’s Mommy.  That was going to take some getting used to. Karissa had just quit her fifth job in almost as many years.  She had to. Littles who got fired by Amazons tended to get Adopted, and her newest coworker kept ‘helping’ in all the worst ways and her manager was starting to give off baby crazy vibes as well.  Job number three had taught her not to wait for the subject of diapers and potty training to be brought up, as refusing a ‘perfectly reasonable test’ to prove one’s potty training was intact was in itself evidence that one was slipping deep into Maturosis. Karissa’s parents swore that Amazons were like giant bloodhounds with their single track minds and blind pursuit of whatever they were after.  The concept of Maturosis was proof that Amazons were, in fact, cat-like and enjoyed playing with their food. She couldn’t get fired and she couldn’t refuse a test or quit on the grounds of being tested. But it was getting riskier and riskier going to job interviews. At some point, an Amazon would look at her resume and decide that the reason she couldn’t keep herself employed was that she was ‘too Little’.  Mom, Dad, and Julius politely but firmly said that they didn’t/couldn’t/wouldn’t use their pull at their own places of employment to get a job due to similar fears, and had similar objections to letting her move in to save money on rent. Since life had dealt her this particular hand, Karissa decided to play it to the best of her ability. If she was going to be Adopted, she was going to be Adopted.  But there were still degrees of success and failure. That’s what she and Morgan were doing here at the One Stop; prepping for Karissa’s Adoption this afternoon.  Morgan and Karissa had been mere acquaintances back in high school, but they’d kept in touch online after graduation and somewhere between college and today they’d turned into actual real life friends.   So when Karissa had pitched the idea to Morgan, Morgan had (predictably) said ‘yes’.  Like two adults they discussed limits and boundaries, and while Karissa likely gave up more than she would have liked to, (she was still a Little), there was no doubt that Morgan would eventually crumble, (she was an Amazon, after all). Morgan had agreed to ‘raise’ Karissa as a toddler. That meant no forced baby talking, no clothing with crotch snaps, no breastfeeding, no forced crawling, and full access to the bathroom.  To live as a three year old was to be a God Queen when one was surrounded by perpetual one and two year olds. The ability to wear panties was a mythic super power in the circles she was about to be running in. The only hitch was that she would have liked to do this side by side with Morgan; one last outing together as friends.  Morgan didn’t get that memo and had plopped Karissa into the shopping cart’s basket seat as soon as they were both inside the store. Karissa always felt sorry for other Littles when she saw them stuck up here, some of them naked save for their diapers. They looked ridiculous.  Karissa was still fully dressed in blue jeans, a turquoise top, and her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail but it didn’t look at all babyish; even the scrunchie was beige. Presently, none of that made her feel any more comfortable. She shifted in her basket seat, the distinct lack of any kind of crinkling sound music to her ears. Were she diapered, she supposed, the hard plastic of the seat would have been more comfortable. But she’d be wearing a diaper, so that would’ve canceled out any and all comfort provided. The mild discomfort from the plastic seat was a reminder that things could be worse. So what if Morgan wanted to start Mommying Karissa a few hours earlier than expected? That wasn’t a deal breaker.  The packet of pacifiers she was slipping into the cart might have been… “What?” Morgan asked, indignantly. “Lots of toddlers have a binky or two. They’re like comfort objects or fidget toys.” Karissa swallowed her pride and exhaled. “Fine.”  She was going to have to change clothes before going to the Adoption Court anyways, and a pacifier might help sell it to whatever judge held the rubber stamp. The point of a green card marriage was to make it look like it wasn’t one. This wasn’t technically the same thing, but it was the closest Karissa would likely get to being in one. The cart turned the corner out of the dining supplies and right into the diapers and wipes aisle. Just being around that many containers of diapers, wipers, powder, and rash cream was akin to an archeologist finding a tomb filled with poisonous cobras.  Karissa saw a chubby cheeked face smiling back at her from a box of Pull-Ons and a not-so chubby face staring at her from a big box of Monkeez and involuntarily clenched up with anxiety. They were already past the training pants. It was all downhill from here. Being a fully grown toddler still meant that a good chunk of amenities were going to come from the baby section. Like wipes. Morgan was trying (and failing) to covertly put in a few packets of unscented baby wipes in an angle that Karissa wouldn’t notice.  “You don’t expect me to use those, do you?” Karissa asked, pointedly. “I do if you spill something sticky and are going to clean it up right away,” Morgan replied. A promise of responsibilities! A show of trust! It was as if a heavy weight was being lifted from the Little’s heart in real time! Karissa’s cold and bitter outlook melted a bit at that.  If she couldn’t be an adult, it was nice to know that she could still be a big girl. “These are great for spills and residues,” Morgan promised. “I use ‘em all the time. They’re way cheaper than the adult versions. I’m pretty sure they’re identical, too. They just change the wrapping and charge us more so that we don’t feel like babies”  She smiled and shook her head to herself.  “Same for powder.” Karissa’s eyes transformed into huge pools of shimmering blue.  “So you’re not going to buy me the expensive wipes, Mommy?” Morgan’s whole body spasmed like a shiver had just run up her. “These are just as good,” Morgan said with some effort. Karissa saw an opportunity.  “My Mommy doesn’t love me?” she teased. Morgan clutched her chest and struggled to keep her composure. “M-M-M-M…” she stuttered. The M-word was definitely effective on her. “Mmmmmmmy goodness, girl!” She recovered, “Are you crazy? I’m about to take away all your bills and responsibilities so that you can play on the monkey bars forever.  Of course I love you, you idiot!” The two broke out laughing. For an instant, they were having drinks after a girl’s night movie again.  There’d be changes of course, but at least one of them wouldn’t be Morgan chewing out some dudebro spilling a drink in Karissa’s lap and accusing her of having an accident. Even better, none of the changes would involve the sounds of Little-proof tapes being ripped off crinkly landing zones. This could work.  “I love you, too, Mommy,” Karissa mewled. “Can we get ice cream before I get Adopted, Mommy?” The torment inside Morgan’s noggin was visible from space.  “That’s not fair.” “What’s not fair, Mommy?” Oh yeah. This could work. This could definitely work. “You know that’s not going to work every time, right?” Morgan asked.  “What about this time, Mommy?” Morgan hung her head. “Fine,” she hot footed it back to the food section and tossed in a set of bibs. “But you’re wearing one of these while you eat. We’re not going in front of a judge with chocolate stains.” “Wouldn’t that make it more convincing?” Karissa smirked. That sent them both rolling again. Stuff like this was why Karissa had grown to like Morgan. She was still an Amazon, but she saw through a good chunk of bullshit when it came to what Littles had to deal with on the regular. This was going to work out. They exited the baby basics section and glided briefly past furniture.  One Stop was more than just a store for baby and babied Little products, but they tended to organize like with like. Pet toys, food, and bedding was right next to carpet cleaner and stain remover which was next to garbage bags and laundry detergent.  By the same game of association: diapers, wipes, and bottles were grouped closely together right next to cribs, car seats and bouncers. Go one way and you’d come to baby apparel which would gradually bleed over into clothes for people who didn’t piss and shit themselves.  Go the other and you’d get infantile trinkets that became more complex and less pastel and squeaky the further away you got from the baby section. The cart stopped briefly while Karissa saw something out of the corner of her eye.  It was box labeled “Magic Princess Training Potty”. Like the Pull-Ons, the model on the box wasn’t a Little. Society as a whole didn’t expect someone like Karissa to get that far. As stupid as it was, having one might be something of a status symbol; that and it would be even more proof of Morgan keeping her word. “Mommy,” she said, breaking out her special word already, “should we get um…?”  Her face flushed and her tongue was sapped of spit.  She settled for pointing. “You know?” Her soon to be Mommy followed Karissa’s finger. She only needed the time it took for her brain to register what she was looking at to respond. “Nah,” she said. “I don’t think so.” “Really?”  Karissa barely tried to hide her conflicting emotions.  It might mean that she was going to be explicitly allowed full toileting privileges; the kind at the very tail end of toddlerhood just before kindergarten. It might also mean… “You think I want to have to empty and rinse out a dumb bowl every time you go pee pee? Or scrape it clean whenever you poop?  No thank you. I read somewhere that after a year or two those things smell worse than the rankest diaper pail!”  The cart kept rolling on. “I’m still going to get to wear panties,” Karissa asked a few seconds later. “right, Mommy?” It sounded so much more pathetic than she would have liked.  It was only her twenty-fifth or thirtieth time by her estimation, but it was the first time she tried out the M-word with it. Marissa stopped pushing the cart and cupped the Little’s chin in her hand. She looked down into those shimmering pools of blue and said, “Of course you’ll get your panties. Do you think I want my Little girl flashing her diaper around everywhere we go?  Or have to worry about coordinating dresses with whatever stupid pattern comes out next?  Do you think I’d want that after all we talked about?” Karissa jerked her head away, feeling ashamed for questioning her friend at the eleventh hour like this.  “Some Amazons do…” “Some people are basic.”  On that much she agreed. “Why would I want you to be just a blob in a onesie when the cutest clothes are for the bigger kids.”  Morgan always did have a thing for fashion. Having clothes with a couple more frills on them or having to go ‘twinsies’ for ‘Mommy/Daughter’ pics on Facetome was a small price to pay for the other freedoms she was going to have.  “Some people are basic,” Karissa agreed. They rolled out heat of the fire and into the frying pan as Morgan pushed the shopping cart away from the furniture and into the clothes.  “I’ve already got a car seat,” she said.  Karissa knew that much, having accepted rides home from Morgan.  “And I ordered all the other furniture I’ll need.  If we’re lucky it’ll be all set up by the time we get home.” “What kind of furniture?” Karissa asked, suspicious despite the constant reassurances. Ironic, considering this started as her idea. They rolled through a veritable forest of onesies, each one dangling from its hanger with a more humiliating slogan than the last; ‘Mommy’s Little Crinkle Butt’, ‘You Wish You Could Change Me’,  and ‘Careful Boys! I’m Loaded!’ not even the worst among them. “Baby gates, mostly.” Morgan answered Karissa’s question. “Just because you’re moving in doesn’t mean you get to snoop around my stuff.” There was more to it, of that Karissa had no doubt.  She’d probably have to deal with a toddler bed, the kind that was so low to the ground that it would be impossible to hurt one’s self falling out but still had a safety rail.  She could live with a crib as long as the rail was left down. A crib minus a rail made it a daybed.  “As long as you don’t block off the bathroom.” Morgan rolled her eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, missy.  You can visit the bathroom at home as many times as you like.” Karissa felt an itch to pick apart Morgan’s words. Why just at home? Why couldn’t she go to the bathroom anytime she wanted?  The Little scolded herself for those thoughts. She’d be a big girl, but she was giving away her adulthood.  That was the whole deal about today.  Karissa was giving up the majority of her independence to Morgan in exchange for Morgan’s protection and making sure that she got to hold onto the minority sliver of agency.  That likely meant she would have to ask permission to use the restroom sometimes. “Okay. Just making sure.” That got a knowing, almost condescending chuckle from Morgan.  “Come on, girl. Let’s go shopping.” So they did. First they did shirts. They weren’t the most flattering cuts and looked like they’d conceal more than highlight Karissa’s post puberty physique, but as long as none of them had the words ‘baby’, ‘bottle’, ‘diaper’, crib, or anything that might conjure up said images, she gave it a pass.  She could live with being ‘Pretty as a Posey’ and galavanting around with a huge flower on her chest as long as the word ‘Padded’ wasn’t included. Morgan was good enough to bring particular attention to the bottom of every one, showing that there were in fact, no snaps at the end, making each one a t-shirt and not a onesie. Next they did pants. There was nothing in the toddler and preschooler section that didn’t have elastic in the waistband or snaps at the beltline, but that was the only region where the dreadful locking mechanisms resided..  “Toddlers can take their pants on and off,” Morgan conceded.  She handed a pair over to Karissa.  “See if you can work the buttons.”  She still couldn’t, and the pants were roomy in a way that would likely make the curves of her hips go invisible, but at least they had pockets. “That’s okay,” Morgan powered forward.  “Plenty of shorts without buttons, too. Just means you’ll need to ask for help sometimes.” Karissa nodded in understanding, but made a mental note to try and avoid those sorts of clothes wherever possible.  She could totally rock being a full time girly girl if it meant she could have easier access to her own underpants. Speaking of which, a feeling of fullness and a nagging pain in Karissa’s guts reminded her that this morning’s coffee had just about caught up to her.  It wasn’t anything she couldn’t hold at the moment, but she would have to take a bathroom break before getting strapped into Morgan’s car seat after this.  “Let’s do jammies, next!” Morgan grinned once enough shirts, pants, and shorts had been piled high.  “Jammies?” Karissa echoed.  “I don’t wear…” A realization came.  “Oh.”  Karissa slept in the nude.  That likely wouldn’t be an option anymore.  “No footies,” she huffed. “Not even for the cold?” Morgan coaxed.  Right behind her there was a periwinkle pajama set. It had a hoodie, mittens, and feet sewed in.  “No. Footies.” This time it came out as bold and firm as Karissa had intended. Give Amazons an inch and they’d take a mile.  Her first round of negotiations with Morgan started with the goal of living as a Middle Schooler. The Amazon locked eyes with her, no doubt wrestling internally with her higher virtues and base impulses.  “Okay,” she cracked a smile.  “No footies.” “Ooooooooo!” A most grating voice called out.  “Mommy! Mommy! That Little girl is being naughty! She’s saying ‘no’ to her Mommy! She needs a spanking!” Both soon to be Adopted and Adoptee turned their heads to the noise. If you’d have asked each of them what they saw, they would have likely given very different descriptions.  To Morgan’s Amazons eyes, it was a precocious tot.  He’d overheard Morgan and her daughter butting heads in the lightest of ways and felt an urgent sense of duty to bring it to his Mommy’s attention; likely internalizing and universalizing a rule from home so that it applied to everyone close to his age. Karissa’s Little sensibilities saw the Little boy for the mindfucked spiteful imp he was.  His babyish outfit was a juvenile mockup of Navy dress blues. Unlike the genuine articles, his hat had a chin strap and the buttons served no purpose save decoration. His shorts (not pants) had an elastic waistband and stopped above his knees. Karissa was certain that if he turned around and lifted his hands over his head, or bent over, the back of his diaper would start poking out. There was no doubt that he was diapered, either. His shorts, though baggy, still showed off the outline of the plastic backed garment underneath.  No one would accuse this Little of stolen valor or impersonating a military officer because sailors didn’t actually dress this way. He wore a childish costume that only mimicked an aspect of adulthood and looked more infantile because of it.  The bright red harness around his chest was another clue.  He toddled around on the ground like a big kid, but could only go as far as his baby leash allowed him too.  Baby leashes: For the physically capable, but mentally untrustworthy. Poor schmuck.  He was either so brainwashed and beaten down that he actually thought of himself as a two year old or he was an ass that was miserable and wanted some company. Tattling doesn’t work when the Grown-Up doesn’t want to get involved.  Neither Morgan nor Karissa heard what the Little’s Amazon said to him, but it was enough to get him to shut up.  “Sorry!” She called out.  “Sorry!” “You’re fine,” Morgan called back.  They waited till the boy and his Mommy’s backs were to them.  “So where we?” she asked. Jammies happened. She got jammies that had the ice princess from Chilled on them. She got jammies with the hair princess from Entwined. She got one with the archery princess from Courageous and one with the book princess from Maiden and the Monster.  Basically if there was a mass media intellectual property involving princesses, Karissa probably had pajamas with their faces now.  The only exception was Little Mermaid:  Karissa remembered how that one ended and she wasn’t going to sport any cartoon characters that ended up in diapers at the end of the movie. But this was great!  No snappies! No footies! No back flaps in the bum. No pictures of safety pins or sleeping baby animals.  This was what toddlerhood could be all about!   Morgan pivoted to the socks nearby.  “Oh look!” She held up a pair. “These have little frills on the ankle! Aren’t these cute?”  Her eyes drifted below the cart’s push bar.  Briefly, Karissa began to worry what was being looked at.  “Shoes! We have to get you some black patent leather buckle shoes! You’d look sooooo cute in some Mary Janes! Can we? Can we pleeeease? Please, baby?!” Karissa tried not to giggle. “Okay, okay,” she relented. “Let’s get some shoes.”  Some Amazons really were like cerbernards. Big, loveable, drooly animals that had no sense for how big, strong, and terrifying they really were.  “Oh and tights. And leggings! Leggings too!” Karissa really was gonna like this.  A slight nudge from inside her, reminded her that she had yet to powder her nose so to speak.  Not a big deal, though. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Socks, shoes, tights, and leggings were barely an appetizer. The main course was well on its way. Dresses! So many dresses!  It was baffling. Every color and pattern and variation imaginable presented itself on hangers. There were ones with frills and ones without; solid colors and ones with decorations. Stripes, polka dots, checker patterns.  Ones for indoor play and showing off with big puffy sleeves and ones whose only job was to keep her naughty bits covered and stop her from overheating while she tried to swing over the top bar on the playground. About a dozen were nixed because they turned out to be just onesies with skirts sewn onto them, but the majority of the selection passed the test.  She’d never admit it out loud, but Karissa was starting to enjoy her prospects. If today was any indication, she was very close to living on Easy Street.  One thing kept nibbling at her anxiety, however.  They’d had the main course of today’s shopping spree.  What about dessert?  “Panties?”  Morgan sighed and put on a smile. She’d been avoiding this part on purpose. “Okay, okay, let’s get your panties.” The panties, Karissa found out, were very near the dresses. Whatever company made the dresses obviously made other clothes too, because there were socks, tights, bows, ribbons, and yes panties in the exact same spread and variety as most of her new dresses. The Little leaned forward and gently took a royal blue pair from her Mommy. She held the pair out and examined them. A profound sense of emptiness filled her. “Something wrong?” Morgan asked. “Yes and no,” Karissa admitted.  “They’re…frillier than I thought they’d be.” Morgan suppressed a laugh.  “Sure. Sure. But have you seen how frilly the dress they go with is?” She pulled and tugged at the fabric.  The waistband and leg cuffs were elasticized (overly so to be honest) but the rest of the fabric felt stiffer than it should have been.  “I don’t know…” she said as much to herself as to the prying giantess.  “I wasn’t expecting anything made of silk, or a thong or something…” “Good because you’re not wearing that,” Morgan said with more force than she’d said anything.  So there was a line not to cross… “Just…I don’t know…” Karissa kept grasping. “I just thought it’d be more like…cotton granny panties except with Hamhock or Baby Bip on the front.” “Oh honey,” Morgan said. “We’re going fancy this time!” She gave her wink and the matter was settled. The remainder of the trip took approximately thirty more minutes.  Twenty-five of those minutes was spent by Morgan digging through the shopping cart and quickly showing how many different outfits could be made using various combinations of tops, bottoms, bows, ribbons, and so on.  Karissa would never need to agonize over what to wear ever again, because Morgan was doing it already without being asked.  “Okay,” Morgan said when she’d about run out of breath.  “What do you say we go pay for these things, and go get changed in the bathroom?” “Changed?” Karissa’s skin started to crawl. She still hated that word, even though it was the most appropriate verb in this context. “They might not believe me if you show up to court looking like this,” Morgan said. “And we’re not doing it at the ice cream shop!” she winked again.  Karissa brightened. She’d already forgotten about that part!  And truth be told, since she had to go to the bathroom anyways it just made sense to change clothes when she was done.  Morgan took Karissa’s introspective hesitation as a bargaining tool and sweetened the pot.  “If we do it now, you can walk out of the store with me.  No carrying. No cart.” “Deal!”   The bargain struck, Karissa gripped the sides of her seat in anticipation while going through the checkout line.  “Looks like someone’s getting Adopted!” The Tweener cashier noted with false enthusiasm. “Congratulations!”  Morgan thanked Cashier Obvious, but the conversation did not end there. “And she’s so well behaved!” The stranger praised. “Most of the time when I see a Little sitting in that seat the first time they’re fussin’ up a storm like it’s the end of the world or something.” “Not my Karissa,” Morgan beamed. “She’s very mature. Aren’t you Karissa?” “I’m a big girl!” Karissa played along. “I bet you are,” the cashier agreed, and for a minute that was the end. The clothes were bagged up one after the other. Karissa passed the time by swinging her feet and looking behind her every thirty seconds towards the restroom doors at the front of the store. “Oh!” The cashier remarked.  “I didn’t want to say anything, but I was starting to wonder.” Karissa had been eyeballing the restrooms again, wishing for teleportation powers. “It’s only for nighttime…” she said absentmindedly.  “Or it’s a fidget toy…” She didn’t know if the cashier had come across the pacifiers or the bottles, and some smidge of (some might say “toddlerish”) pride compelled her to explain. She’d own up to the dresses and such; starting today those were her clothes.  But those were just bottles and pacifiers that her Mommy had bought for her.  That didn’t make them her- Diapers??? Right as she snapped her head back around, Karissa caught a small travel package of diapers being slipped into a brown paper bag right beside her. Morgan had failed to sneak the baby wipes past her, but that had just been a misdirect for something else. “I babysit sometimes,” the Tweener blathered. “This one Little girl I look after? Her parents swear by them. I’ve been sitting her for eight or nine years and I don’t think she’s ever leaked or had a blowout in these.” “I’ve heard some really good reviews,” Morgan agreed, however curtly. “Morgan!” Karissa scolded her.  “We agreed I’d get to wear panties!” Morgan didn’t make eye contact. She was too busy digging out her credit card.  “You will, baby. You will.” “But Mommy! Those are-” “Oh, so it’s Morgan when she’s angry,” the cashier cut in, “but it’s Mommy when she wants something.  Yup. She’s a Little, alright!”  Morgan did not look pleased to have her lie revealed.  “Mmmhmm…” she grunted, clearly annoyed. “Oh! Sorry!” The cashier apologized. “I just ruined the surprise, didn’t I?” “Something like that.” Karissa’s head was swimming, her skin pricked with a million invisible needles. She’d been betrayed, her deal broken, her trust in the tall folk shattered, and this stranger was treating it like she’d just brought up candy before dinner. “I’m sorry,” the cashier stumbled over themselves apologizing. “I didn’t know you hadn’t put her D-I-A-P-E-R on yet. I guess I should’ve with how she’s dressed. Sorry.” Morgan pushed the cart out of the lane and parked it at the end.  “I need to take my Little girl into the bathroom for a moment,” she said, already fishing through the grocery bags. “Can you please watch my cart?” Given the context and how sweaty the Tweener was becoming, it was a threat as much as it was a request.  “Sure. No problem.” “Thank you.” Karissa was plucked out of the shopping seat and carried into the bathroom so fast she didn’t have time to speak up.   Holy shit she forgot how fast Amazons were!  With their longer legs and stronger muscles, being carried by a hurried Amazon was almost like riding horseback in short bursts. She was sitting on the fold out changing station before she was able to get a word out. “Wait!” she pleaded. Morgan did not wait. She grabbed Karissa’s top and yanked it upward with such force that the Little’s arms shot up in surrender and supplication.  Her bra followed. Morgan didn’t even unhook it for her, the tiny hooks just warped loose like paper clips when she pulled hard enough. “This isn’t what I want!”  she screamed. “This isn’t what I wanted.” Morgan sighed, but didn’t stop manhandling Karissa’s clothes off of her.  Shoes, socks, and scrunchy were added to the pile at the bottom of the bathroom trash can. “I know,” she said, then used one hand to pin Karissa down and the other pull the table’s restraint over her chest.  “But this is what you need and this is what we agreed to.”  Karissa’s pants stayed on while Morgan ripped open the top of the pack of diapers. “You said I wouldn’t have to be a baby!” she pleaded, still knowing that it wouldn’t make any difference. Morgan opened the diaper- what would be the first of an uncountable many that Karissa would wear over her lifetime- the way a religious man opened a holy text. She was possessed with a sense of purpose in the way she unfolded it; reverence even.  Morgan was no longer Karissa’s friend. She was a newly turned vampire who had just caught her first whiff of blood and popped her fangs. It was with an animalistic hunger and anticipation that she stripped off Karissa’s pants. It was time to get the Little girl into something…less comfortable. Karissa grit her teeth and locked a death grip on her panties. “You said I could be a toddler.” Morgan looked from the diaper in her hands to the Little’s panties. “I did,” she agreed. In one surprising motion she gave the changing station a jerk and arm rests popped out on either side of Karissa.  Morgan grabbed Karissa’s wrists one at a time and shoved them into the attached cuffs. This was no longer just a changing table. The bathroom had just become an operating theater and Morgan was the surgeon. It was a cruel kindness that Morgan ripped the Little’s panties to shreds then and there. It destroyed any cruel lingering hopes that this was a joke or that she’d ever get back into underwear. But denial is a hell of an opiate.  “I’m a big girl!” Karissa pleaded. “You said I could be.” “And you are,” Morgan replied with practiced calm.  “But even big girls can wear diapers.”  She slid the dreaded diaper underneath Karissa’s hips.  The sticker off a fresh bottle of powder came off and something besides the Little’s nose got a quick dusting. “No they can’t!’ Karissa insisted despite herself. Morgan pulled the fresh diaper up tight and taped it up over Karissa’s hips.  A gasp escaped the girl. It was like her panties had been traded in for pillows!  Pillows that she’d be forced to pee in! “You said that I’d get to use the potty!”  Karissa was angry that she didn’t even care that she’d messed up and said ‘potty’ instead of toilet. “No,” Morgan said. “I agreed that you could walk and talk, wouldn’t be expected to breastfeed, and that you could wear panties.”  She held out the frilly blue pair from earlier.  “And you can.  Over your diaper.” Karissa found her legs threaded into the mocking garment.  Her hips were boosted up and the vile thing was almost at her belly button.  “These aren’t panties!” Karissa shrieked. “It’s just a diaper cover!” Morgan kept digging through the bags she’d brought.  “For a toddler? Same difference.” “No!” Karissa tried to explain.  “A toddler is like three or four! A preschooler!  Totally potty trained!  Training pants at least!” “Honey,” Morgan forced Karissa up and yanked the frilly blue dress over her head. “A toddler is just a baby that’s learned how to walk.  That’s why that wobbly little baby walk is called ‘toddling’.”  Karissa’s jaw dropped.  Babied on a technicality!  How had she not seen this coming?  Morgan certainly had from the other end.  The way she spoke, calm and practiced as she was, betrayed that she’s already run this conversation in her head many times, and now that it was happening all the nervousness was vanishing. She even took Karissa’s incredulity as an opportunity to tie her hair up in pigtails.  “Perfect,” the Amazon mouthed to herself. “Then…deal’s off!” Karissa tried. “I don’t want you to be my Mommy anymore.” “Oh sugar,” Morgan said. “It’s much too late for that.” “No it’s not.  I revoke my consent. I don’t have Maturosis and you don’t have any proof.” Morgan finished applying Mary Janes and frilly ankle socks before replying.  “Honey, you asked me to Adopt you. Seeking out a caregiver is a hallmark of Maturosis and I have the screenshots to prove it.” “But I don’t want to wear diapers!  I’ve been asking about panties and going potty non-stop!”  Karissa didn’t even know why she was arguing, but she would have regretted things more if she didn’t at least try. “Preoccupation with potty training is also a symptom,” Morgan corrected her. “It’s like your brain is going backwards and becoming fascinated with what was new and strange back when you were two.  But I kept my promise.”  The floor came rushing up at Karissa’s Mary Janes.  “Look.” Pathetically, Karissa lifted the hem of her new dress and stared down between her legs at the frilly panties beneath. Neither the diaper’s waistband nor leakguards were visible. Karissa didn’t even know which brand of diaper she was wearing because she’d hadn’t gotten a good look at the packaging or decorations.  The lack of cartoon hippos or rainbow colored monkeys didn’t hide the fact there was a bulbous bulging diaper taped around her butt. It would help prevent sagging when she wet too much, but nobody would mistake them for big girl panties.  She had a pretty good feeling that if she bent over too far, everyone would get a peak at her ruffled backside, and if someone raised the back of her dress all the way they’d easily find a diaper’s thin plastic waistband riding up and peeking out. Just like the stupid sailor boy, Karissa was dressed as ‘older’ but no less ‘babyish’.  Any trappings of something outside the playpen were pure illusion and aesthetic. Her head hung with the hem of her dress. As fancy as it looked, it didn’t come close to covering up her new panties all the way.  Then again, if they did, what would the point of the ruffles served? Toddlers didn’t care about whether people could see their underwear or not.  What kind of underwear didn’t matter to them which is probably why they needed diapers in the first place. A loud click snuck around from her breast bone.  Karissa looked up to see a neon pink leash leading all the way up to Mommy’s hand.  Any of the Littles trapped in strollers and carriers would look at her on her leash and know that she’d been broken down.  Why else would be she be trusted with so much mobility unless she was a sellout or her brains had already been scrambled to the point where she was functionally the child she was dressed as. A preschooler among babies was a God Queen.  A toddler among babies was still just a baby.  Her diapers would just be covered up with tights and fake baby panties instead of onesies.  “Come on,” Mommy said, giving the leash a tug. “A promise is a promise. Let’s walk” Head hung low and new pig tails wagging, Karissa trudged forth out of the bathroom.  The first few steps were incredibly awkward.  She had to take on a much wider gait than she was used to, and if she moved the wrong way too quickly or took too big a step, she felt like she might lose her balance.   She really was a toddler now. “Damn…” she cursed.  “What was that?” “Nothing, Mommy!” Karissa squeaked. She took the clipped on pacifier and popped it in. “Toddlers don’t say naughty words,” Morgan lectured her, tugging her leash to make her keep up.  “And if they do, they get spankings. Toddlers are big enough to know what certain words mean and that they shouldn’t say them.” Great. She was big enough to watch her language but not big enough to be allowed actual underwear.  She grit her teeth and bit down on her pacifier when she realized that she hadn’t even gotten to use the toilet one last time.  Her insides became more insistent and her hands shot down to her belly, as if that would help matters. “Excuse me,” the cashier from before ran up to them, pushing the grocery cart.  “I’m really sorry I spoiled your surprise, ma’am.  I went ahead and comped an entire box of diapers for you from our baby section. I made sure it was the same size as what you bought. A pack that size will only last you a couple of days, tops.” “I know,” Morgan replied coldly. “I’ve already got ten cases at home.” Fear and disappointment (but especially fear) lit up on the Tweener’s face. “Oh.” Had Karissa been a little less shell-shocked and a little more petty, she’d have tried to do or say something that would land them back at daycare with her.  Tweeners could wear diapers, too. This one could at least squeeze into some Pull-Ons. “But thank you,” Morgan said, satisfied with the cashier’s level of genuflection. “I’ll take it.” “Thank you, ma’am.” “My pleasure.” Morgan had planned to diaper her the entire time, despite all the negotiations, and was clearly enjoying making the Tweener sweat.  Amazons really were like cats. Karissa ducked her head, sucked on her binky, and kept walking away. “Mommy!” A shrill voice rang out in the parking lot.  “Look! It’s a baby!” Karissa’s hands shot up from her stomach and to the side of her face, hiding her embarrassment and bracing herself for the oncoming ridicule. “Not exactly, Em-Em,” the other voice corrected. “That’s a Little.” The gawkers were a mother and daughter pair, a real one.  From her height, weight, amount of hair, and general command of language, Karissa would have guessed the Amazon tot to be three and a half, maybe four.  Her baggy shorts lacked the subtle but telltale curve in the middle indicating padding.  No diapers here. Not even training pants. Karissa would have described the girl as a toddler.  Morgan likely would have said she was a preschooler. “What’s a Little?” the actual child asked, honestly. “Well…” the child’s mother clicked her tongue.  “It’s like…you see…How do I put it?”  The cart stopped. Karissa almost walked into it. She looked around the parking lot. Morgan’s car was still a ways away. Why were they-? Morgan’s voice intruded over into the conversation. “A Little is like a baby who grows up for a while, turns back into a baby, and then never grows up again,” she explained Worse than ridicule, Karissa realized, she was being turned into a lesson.  The cart swerved and Karissa was being led across the cement aisle so that a child could learn why someone seven times older than them wore diapers.  More cramps threatened inside of her, and her hands shot back down to her belly button.  Short of laxatives, the only thing better at getting one’s guts moving than coffee was walking. Morgan wasn’t giving her much other choice. As Karissa struggled internally, the preschooler poked her lip out and played with it rather thoughtfully, making little thwipping sounds with her mouth and pointer finger.  “Like Grampy?” she wondered. “No dear, Grampy isn’t a Little. He had a minor stroke and is recovering. His words are just going to come out funny for a while.” “Cousin Micah?” “No, Cousin Micah is just a regular baby.  He’s going to grow up, one day.” “Cousin Lilah?” Relief and recognition came to the mother. “Yes! Just like Cousin Lilah! Why didn’t I think of her?  Exactly like Cousin Lilah.” Relief threatened Karissa. “Mommy…” Karissa mumbled over her pacifier. “Mommy, I need to…” The teachable moment was going on without her and drowning out her pleas. “Cousin Lilah wears diapers!” “Yes she does,” the Amazon mother nodded approvingly.  “Cousin Lilah is a baby!” “And a Little,” the mother said. “But not all Li-” “I’m a big girl!”  The pride in that child’s voice made it seem like she accomplished something.  Compared to Karissa, maybe she had. “That’s right! You’re a big girl!” “I use the potty!” “Uh-huh!” A finger shot out and put Karissa back in the crosshairs.  “Does she wear diapers?” “Yes she does,” Morgan’s answer made Karissa jump. “She does wear diapers.” “Does she poop her panties?” “I am so sorry,” the other Amazon apologized, blushing at her child’s bluntness. “We just got done potty training and she’s going through a phase. Wants to know all about the babies and the diapers now that she’s a big girl and is in panties full time.” “It’s no problem,” Morgan said.  She squatted down next to Karissa and lifted the front of Little’s dress up as though it weren’t the most casual and blatant violation of her personal space and privacy.  “My Little Karissa likes to wear pretty panties to match her pretty dresses. But she just wears baby panties. Not big girl panties, like you.” The preschooler grinned. “I have Hamhock panties!” “That’s awesome!” Morgan praised. She held out her other hand for a high-five. The girl accepted it.  Karissa could only stand there, mortified, trying not to mess herself. “Karissa isn’t potty trained anymore, so she wears diapers under her baby panties. That’s way she can keep them nice and clean.” “Just like you did when you were a toddler!” The mother said, bringing it all together. “Now I’m a big girl!” A surge of pain that started from her tummy radiated down to the back of her legs and all the way up to the front of her skull. She wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer.  She had to. No. She didn’t.  Yes she did. No she didn’t. “What’s she doing?” “She’s just thinking.” Mommy’s hand came down on top of Karissa’s head. “She’s thinking just like you used to back when you were a baby,” the strange Amazon chuckled. It was true. The pain was too much. Her body had already taken steps preparing for what was to come.  Even if she had wanted to, Karissa couldn’t have stopped herself at this point.  No amount of cheek clenching, teeth gritting, or breath holding, would unbend the Little’s knees.  Nothing would stop her romp from sticking out as wave after wave rocked against her insides. If she stood back up, like a big kid, she’d still be in terrible pain and more than likely, more than a little of this morning’s oatmeal (why had she chosen oatmeal?) would still find its way to the back of her diaper.  If she fell over onto all fours like a baby, chances are all of the brewing storm would come out. This was the freedom of a toddler: The freedom to helplessly fill her diaper in public while standing up. The freedom to feel her diaper expand and make way for the emerging excrement just a little bit more before spreading out and smashing against her cheeks and coating her genitals.  Not like those suckers forever stuck in their bouncers and strollers. This was going to be easy, or hard. Karissa chose easy. Like a toddler too dumb to even hide behind the couch, Karissa filled her panties up in the middle of the One Stop parking lot.  Except she didn’t fill them, because her diaper was there to keep them pretty and clean. “She’s doin’ it!” the preschooler pointed so hard that Karissa could feel it through her clenched eyelids.  “Just like Lilah! She’s doing it! She’s pooping her pants!” “And that’s okay, dear,” the other Amazon said gently.  “That’s just what Littles do.” “She’s a baby.” “Yes she is, dear.” Eyes still closed, a single tear managed to worm its way down Karissa’s cheek. It sizzled and evaporated on the pavement right when she was done pushing out the last of her dignity. “I just changed you, too” Mommy cliqued her tongue. “New Adoption?” The other Amazon asked. “Yeah,” Mommy admitted. “Just did our first shopping spree.” “Welcome to the club,” the woman chuckled. “Hope you know what you’re in for.” Mommy’s hand resettled on top of Karissa’s head right as the load in the Little’s diaper was settling.  “We’ll see how you feel when yours is a teenager.  I’ll take stinky pants over hormones, increased car insurance, and back-sass any day.” “Fair enough,” the mother chuckled, and took her daughter inside.  There was only one bit of bargaining that Karissa had left in her. “Mommy?” she begged, letting the pacifier fall from her mouth.  “Can you please change me?”  The car was probably sweltering, but it couldn’t be any worse than what was going on right beneath her dress. And a diaper change in a hot car would still be miles better than a road trip Mommy, no longer Morgan, would never be Morgan again, waited until she packed all of the beautiful outfits for her new toddler to show off before she answered. “Of course I’ll change your diaper, baby.  As soon as we get to the ice cream shop.” “Before the ice cream?” Karissa begged. Mommy winked and picked the pacifier back up.  “If you’re good.” She put it back between Karissa’s lips and twisted a knob. Before she knew what was happening, Karissa felt the bulb expand in her mouth, gagging her and preventing her from spitting it out.  “If you’re good.”    

I don't think the current diaper market for us is stale. We are fortunate to have a variety of diapers to choose from. On a different note, my current diaper is definitely "stale." 🤫