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2011

2011 Survey Questions


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  1. In A Word... 1 2 3 4

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  2. Down There! 1 2 3

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  3. Relationships 1 2 3 4

    • 80 replies
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  4. Nap Time! 1 2

    • 37 replies
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  5. Socially Acceptable 1 2 3 4

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  6. Crossing Over 1 2

    • 32 replies
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  7. Does That Make Me Crazy... 1 2

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  8. Vices 1 2

    • 39 replies
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    • 24 replies
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  9. Snack Time!

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    • Chapter Seven — Strawberries and Chili  The second stroke comes before the first has finished. Smack. Harder. The uniform fabric doesn't protect anything. Heat spreads across skin already burning. The third. Smack. I hold my breath. Hands clenched around the chair legs. The fourth doesn't come. Sara holds me still. Her hand on my back. The silence in the room broken only by my short breath. "That's enough," she says. Her voice is calm. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want you to understand." Another silence. Tears fall. Silent. I can't stop them. Sara's hand shifts. Not to strike. She strokes my back. Softly. Through the fabric. "Up," she says. "Get up." She helps me. Legs weak. Bottom burning. I stand in front of her, hands wiping my cheeks. Sara looks at me. Her eyes are calm. No anger. Just a kind of tired patience. "Now," she says. "I'll change your diaper. Then you finish your shopping and go home." My fingers move. Find the edge of my skirt. Lift it. Sara nods. "Good girl." I lie down on the floor. The concrete is cold against my back. Neon light above me. Cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. Sara kneels. Her hands find the edge of the tights. Pulls them down. Slowly. Carefully. Cold air on the skin of my thighs. "Here we are," she murmurs. "Let's get this ugly diaper off." Her fingers find the tapes. Rip. The first. Rip. The second. The damp releases. The light smell of old urine rises in the air. Sara pulls the diaper out from under me. I feel it slide away. "Lift." My hips rise. The wet diaper comes free. Then I lower back down. Cold concrete against the bare skin of my bottom. Sara rolls the diaper into a ball. Sets it aside. The rustle of wipes. Cold wet on my skin. Light detergent. Precise strokes. Efficient. Not a caress. A cleaning. Then the new diaper. The plastic unfolding. The rustle of the soft inner lining. "Lift." My hips rise. The diaper slides under. The soft back against my bottom. Then down. The front tabs. Click. Click. Click. "Done." I pull myself up. The new diaper is thick. Soft. Warm around my hips. Sara straightens my skirt. Adjusts my apron. Her hands are gentle. Then I hear a different click. The pacifier. She clips it to my collar. "Here," she says. "Up. Come on. Let's finish this shopping." I head toward the back door. Sara's hand on my shoulder. Then I stop. I see the basket. The one where I put the strawberries. It's there, on the counter of the back room. I go closer. Look inside. The strawberries are ruined. Crushed. Red juice stains the cardboard. A few have white mold on one side. My heart drops. I lift the basket. Show it to Sara. I don't say anything. The pacifier is in my mouth. Eyes wet again. She bends down. Looks. "Oh." A pause. "I wanted to make a cake," I say. The voice comes out small. Infantile. "I wanted to make a cake with those strawberries. For Mrs. Smith. To thank her." My chin trembles. "They looked beautiful. Big. Red." My fingers touch the edge of the basket. "I wanted it to be perfect." Sara is quiet. She looks at me. Then she sighs. Turns. Takes another package from the sale counter. Normal strawberries. The ones from the shelf below. Beautiful. Red. Intact. She puts them in my cart. "Take these," she says. "I'll ring them up at half price. Strawberries are my favorite, and I want to taste this cake." Her hand on my shoulder. "Come on. Let's finish the shopping." I take her hand. She doesn't pull it away. She lets me hold her fingers. She walks with me through the aisles. The cart ahead. My steps beside hers. I stop at the spice shelf. Take the dried chili. A small red packet. Calabrian Chili — Hot. I turn to Sara. Rise on my tiptoes. She bends down. My mouth near her ear. The pacifier removed for a moment. Warm breath on her skin. "I want it to have an aphrodisiac effect." A moment of silence. Then she straightens. Eyebrows raised. "Ah." She laughs. A small laugh. Almost disbelieving. "Well, good luck to Mrs. Smith. And Mr. Smith, I imagine." We start walking again. "Do you need dark chocolate too?" she asks without turning. She already knows the answer. I nod. We get everything. Dark chocolate. Flour. Eggs. Powdered sugar. At the register, Sara scans it all. Beep. Beep. Beep. "Mrs. Smith said to put it on her tab," I say. Sara nods. Then I separate the cake ingredients. Set them aside. "Not these," I say. "This is my gift for Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I'll pay for it myself." I take out my wallet. Hands still trembling a little. But my voice is steady. Sara looks at me. Then shrugs. "As you like." She scans the cake ingredients. Beep. Beep. The total appears on the screen. I pay. Cash. Bills on the counter. She counts them. Puts them in the register. The drawer closes with a metallic click. "Here," she says. Hands me the receipt. "Good luck with the cake." She smiles at me. "And with tonight." I smile back. Shy. Cheeks warm. "Thank you, Miss Sara. For everything." "You're welcome, little one." The pacifier clips back to my collar. My fingers close around the shopping bags. I bow. Slight. Polite. "Goodbye." "Goodbye, Aisha. Come back anytime." I exit. The doorbell chimes behind me. The air outside is fresh. The sky is lower. The afternoon stretches out. I walk toward the bus stop. The bags dangling from my hands. The shelter is metal and glass. Two benches. A yellow sign with the timetable. I sit down. Set the bags beside me. Adjust my skirt. Knees together. Hands in my lap. The pacifier moves slowly. Rhythmic suckling. Relaxing. I look at the road. A few cars pass. A man on a bicycle. A dog sniffing a fire hydrant. The new diaper is thick around my hips. Clean. Dry. Perfect. I close my eyes for a moment. Breathe. The bus arrives with a sigh of compressed air. The doors open. I take the bags. Stand. Board.
    • CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX   “Are you wearing the pull up I gave you?” Peter asked. “No.” Alex answered. Peter nodded. “Wanna sit down?” “Please.” The two sat down on the beanbag chairs. “So.” Peter said. “Have you ever thought about diapers before?” “I don’t think so.” Alex replied. “You don’t think so?” Alex started to think. Looking through the recesses of his mind and then it hit him. “Um, actually.” “Yeah?” “Do you remember two years ago when Aunt Molly, mom’s sister came over and she brought Nick (her second youngest son and their cousin) with her?” “Yeah. Nick was 5.” “And he was still in diapers because he didn’t want to potty train.” “Yeah. I almost snatched a few diapers out of the diaper bag.” Alex bit his lip. “I did.” “What?” “I took a diaper out of the diaper bag.” “You did?” “Yeah?” “Wait? Was that, that one soggy diaper that mom found thrown out in the downstairs hall bathroom?” “Yep.” “That was you?” “Yeah. I snatched it from Nick’s diaper bag when no one was looking and then went up to my room to put it and wore it until it was really wet and then threw it out in the downstairs hall bathroom.” “Oh.” “Yep.” “Um, okay.” “Yeah.” “Why did you take a diaper?” “I don’t know. The urge to take a diaper just came over me. I was looking at the diaper bag and I just decided to take one.” “Okay.” “And I think I just buried that in the back of my mind. I just completely remembered it.” Peter nodded again. “Okay.” “Yeah.” “Alex.” “Yeah?” “I think you might like diapers?” “Really?” “Yep.” “You don’t think it was a stupid childish whim?” “Nope.” “Okay.” “Did you want to take another diaper?” Alex thought again. “I, I did and I wanted to take a pull up too.” “Okay.” “When I took the diaper I wanted to take another one but I thought I heard someone coming. And Aunt Molly and Nick had left by the time I wanted to take a pull up.” “Alex?” “Yeah?” “That time we spent the weekend at Aunt Emily (another of their mom’s sisters) and Uncle Evan’s house and Aunt Emily found a pack of Simon’s (their second middle child and another cousin of the boys) diapers out on the couch was that you?” “It was. I wanted to look at them and I forgot to put them back.” “And Aunt Emily thought it was one of the younger kids fooling around.” “Yeah.” “Alex.” “Yeah?” “I really think you do like diapers.” “Really?” “Yeah.” “Are you sure?” “I think so. Did you want to take one of Simon’s diapers?” “Yeah. I wanted to see what they looked like and how they would fit.” “Then I think you do like diapers.” “Oh.” “And this is something else you pushed into the back of your mind?” “Um, yeah.” “I think you do like diapers Alex.” Before Alex could respond their came a knock on Peter’s closed bedroom door. “Peter? Alex?” Their mom’s voice came from the other side of the closed door.
    • cooked Hamburg in gravy over noodles
    • yes my typical morning get out of bed feed the cat fix my coffee take pills take a shot of insulin and check in here all still in my overnight wet n messy diaper from sleeping
    • I love your art! Im so glad you’re here. I hope we can chat sometime!
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