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It‘s middle Europe… ….

I am almost sure I'm not the only one in the world that feels this way, but I am terrified of police. Law enforcement officials? Maybe not. An officer from the court has shown up at my door expecting the Trustee involved with ownership of my property,  to be here. But police. The fact that police literally give me quickened heartbeat,  etc..  basically symptoms of an anxiety attack, is indicative that it might amount to a mild phobia.  But add diapers into the mix and...  does anyone else feel the same way?

Not shave, but cut with scissors 

Act III 78. My Special Gift The house felt empty once Tess was gone. I was working Thursday and Friday, but when I got home in the evening I kept expecting her to walk into the room. When I woke up in the mornings I was surprised not to hear her moving about in the nursery, and again when I came down to the kitchen and found it empty. It would probably have been easier if Ffrances had been here. But this week, as was her usual tradition, she would be out of the house for a chaotic frenzy of early and late shifts. It was something I’d never had a problem with; it was an indisputable fact that a lot of mental health problems have more of an impact around the holidays, both because of the nights drawing in and the media’s emphasis on feelgood family programming. People who didn’t fit would be pushed to the edge of society even more than usual, at a time when the doctors most wanted an opportunity to spend time with their kids. So Ffrances was one of those taking up the slack, working extra shifts to cover at work, and then volunteering for a helpline whenever she had the time. I might have done the same; I had tried volunteering in the past, but didn’t have the right skills to do it well. After a couple of hours I was burned out by other people’s anxieties, and I didn’t think I would be capable of giving them the help they needed. So now I sat around the house waiting for Ffrances to come home, and made sure that she didn’t even need to think about household chores for the next week or two. Of course, I had other things to do today. We were planning some extra special treats for Tess when she got home, and I had to make sure everything went perfectly. And if I wanted to see my happy little baby again, I needed to be sure that she would still enjoy her role; which would probably be the easier part. On Saturday morning, the house feeling so empty, I went into the nursery to sort everything out. Tess hadn’t locked the room, but it looked like she’d left it ready for someone new to move in. Most of her possessions were packed away neatly in boxes, and all the toys were arranged like a store display. Everything visible, everything tidy. It was an inventory. I knew there were things I needed to check. Things that she would have been annoyed to see me handling while she was here, but which still needed to be done. First, I checked the changing table. The drawers held a wide variety of diapers, as well as wipes, creams, powder, and everything else that a little girl could need. This time I didn’t just glance at the amount of empty space, but took each item out from its usual place for careful measurement. I counted the diapers, and made a list. I also weighed the bottles of baby powder and cream in my hands, to see if any of them had been used. It didn’t seem like it. I checked the wipe dispenser as well, and was surprised to find that it needed a refill. At least she wasn’t entirely afraid to use the babyish trappings that she craved so much. I refilled the wipes, and then stared at the list of numbers on my phone. Most of the diaper varieties hadn’t been used. Some of the cupboards had never even been opened; as I could tell by tiny scraps of paper fluttering out from where it had been lodged between the hinges. Every space was full, and when I took the various diapers out to count them, comparing each total to the full packs I had bought a few months before, the difference only seemed to total three. That wasn’t too much of a surprise; I knew that Tess was content with Goodnites to cope with what she described as a problem. She was still afraid to admit how much she liked being babied, so she wanted to stick with the minimum that would keep the sheets dry. She would need a little nudge to get past that. I double-checked the numbers, and worked out how many packs it would take to refill the changing table. Three diapers – probably the ones I had been wearing when Ffrances had decided I should join Tess in her regression – and nearly fifty Goodnites. I had some spare packs in the back of the closet in the box room, but not that many. I could have just half-filled the drawer, because I was sure I could make her start wearing real diapers before too long. But I wanted her to see that I was being careful, replenishing what had been used. I couldn’t let her think that I was second guessing her choices. A few minutes later, she had a full selection of ABDL diapers again, as many would fit in the cupboard. I opened the packs of Goodnites, and that took a lot more time. I had a pocket knife on the ground beside me to open the packs as quickly and easily as possible; and then a little pushpin with a red plastic top in my hand. I pricked each of the pull-ups three or four times, making tiny holes in the outer plastic layer. Nothing that would be obvious, but each time she had an accident there would be a small chance that the diapers would leak a little. And each time she had to wash her sheets again, it would be a little more rational for her to switch to real diapers. I didn’t prick every one; I didn’t want to cause a real inconvenience for Tess. And I didn’t want her to think that something had changed, or to get suspicious. The few that had been left in her drawer were mostly untouched, but I was sure that after a while she would start to realise that using products designed for growing girls was no longer enough help. She was a baby, and she would have to get used to real diapers. It was what she really wanted, after all; she would just need a little persuading to realise it. Once everything in Tess’s room was organised, I felt like the biggest part of my job was done. I wondered if she would be wearing one of those Goodnites tonight; and I hoped she would be able to do so without making her family suspicious. They were nice people, and I was sure that they loved her, but I didn’t know if they would understand a little’s secret desires. It was unlikely she would have the courage to tell them how much she wanted to be a baby, so I hoped she would be smart enough to maintain her privacy. She would wear them, probably. It was hard to believe it had only been two nights since she left, and I wasn’t quite sure how many days had passed for her, given the different time zones. But she would still have enough protection to last her for another day or two, if she stuck  to her principles and continued wearing them. I hoped she would; I’d done my best to protect her, to make sure that she didn’t have to wake up to wet sheets and rush the laundry over the holidays. But if she didn’t take my advice, if she decided not to wear them, then I couldn’t force her to. I could only hope that her pride didn’t cause her too many problems. That evening, Ffrances was back home. At my place, rather than her own, which was even more of a bonus. She wasn’t going to be working this evening, because there is apparently some legal limit on how many shifts you can work in a week, even for someone as motivated as her. I wasn’t ready with her dinner as soon as she came home, because she said there was something she had to do first. She had been very clear in her message; I could start preparation if I was doing something time-consuming, but there was something she wanted to do before she started procrastinating, and she thought that the best option would be to deal with it as soon as she got home. I’d thought hard about what we could have to eat, and then spent a good hour of the afternoon making chicken and mushroom pie mix. Then I could put it in the oven to bake as soon as Ffrances arrived, and be confident of having a hot, filling dinner ready after she’d spent forty to fifty minutes doing whatever needed so much attention. “You look shattered,” I told her. “I just put dinner on.” “Thanks. And I’ll be fine. Only one more thing to do, and then I can relax. Forty minutes, right? Or a little longer.” “You can relax more,” I told her, and pulled her close for a deep kiss. When she was this tired, even my Mistress seemed happy to let me take charge. And there was a smile on her face a few seconds later. “I’ll put a coffee on too, bring you one in a few minutes. You look like you need it. Amaretto?” “No thanks. I could use a drink, but not just yet. No interruptions, okay? I’m taking your office for three quarters of an hour, and I don’t want to hear a single footstep on the stairs. I mean it.” “Yes, Miss,” I nodded, with a cheeky grin. “You won’t have to punish me today.” “I better not. But I can if you want me to. Later, once I’ve had time to get my chores done without distractions.” “What are you doing?” I asked. I knew she’d told me not to ask, but I couldn’t imagine why she would ever turn down a hot drink and a chair massage when she’d brought work home with her. “Is it admin for work, or the SAD thing?” “No. This is for family. For Tess, in fact, and for you.” “Oh? I already ordered some Christmas gifts aimed at various ages. I thought it would be nice to have choices that will be a surprise for you as well. I mean, if you can’t persuade this other girl…” “And I appreciate that, but it’s not just shopping. There’s the hypnosis as well. I’ve given Tess the basics, but it will need at least some reinforcement. So I’m going to record a complete session and send it by email. She should be able to find an hour alone to put her headphones on at least once; and then she might get a chance to listen on the flight back as well. Plus, I’m going to be regressed too. So I’ll be able to listen to my own voice, and see if there’s any details that I haven’t noticed when I’m talking. Changing sides is supposed to be a good way of spotting your weaknesses.” “So you’re going to be in trance too, completely helpless?” “Not yet. I’ll be recording the session now. Which is why I wasn’t sure about the time.  But later, if you don’t mind me being inattentive for an hour.” I thought about her lying back, with headphones on. It was weird; she was the one in charge, and it was very strange thinking that for some length of time she would be vulnerable. I knew I would be tempted to abuse that, and that was a realisation I didn’t really like. But I knew she was committed now. Would I be jealous, seeing my love with a blank expression? “Okay. But… It’s a bit weird, but could we do it together? I mean, being a baby isn’t my thing, but… I still like the helplessness. It’s relaxing. And it’s a self-triggered effect, right? So I can listen along when you do, even if I’m going to be the adult. And then it’s there in case we change our minds.” I don’t know why I said all that. I knew I was babbling. But something just seemed wrong about the idea of a hypnosis session where the subject was my owner. I didn’t know about the baby stuff at all, but somehow the idea of us both on the receiving end didn’t freak me out nearly as much as imagining all that happening to Ffrances.

@DailyDi How are you feeling?