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Great scene.  Love how you crossed Dana and Hollie over from the other story.

Immersion (Part 1) Ashley knew the room was perfect as soon as she stepped into it. The walls were decorated a creamy white. The carpeted floor looked soft and inviting. The quilted vinyl playmat even moreso. The dresser was painted up with brushstrokes of bark, roots, and ivy, so as to look like it was carved directly from a magical tree.  The crib was made of sturdy and solid wood, and had a drop rail-  a rarity these days. It wasn’t very big, but she could fit as long as she didn’t stretch all the way. The comforter and sheets behind the bars were the same inoffensive cream color as the walls-which was mildly disappointing- but the accouterments on either side of the baby’s bed made up for it. To one side of the crib was an inviting mini-mountain of stuffed animals that Ashley wanted to swan dive into like they were a pile of leaves on a crisp Autumn day. To the other side was a shelf filled with beautiful dolls: rag, baby, barbie, and porcelain, Ashley had her pick. Toss a few from either side and the bed would have adequate character. Nearby the playmat was a rocking chair so that an adult could keep vigil over whatever little tykes were inhabiting the space, and several comfy looking bean bags so that little tots could snuggle into and listen to stories.  The wall across from the dresser had a rack of bins containing a multitude of tiny novelty toys. Legos and megos on the bottom row, plastic dinosaurs, zoo animals, army men, and matchbox cars in the middle, and an absolute overflowing horde- decades’ worth- of McDonald’s happy meal toys.  Beside the rack was a large fidget block and beadmaze with a small bucket filled with more infantile toys such as rattles and jack in the boxes.  Next to the dresser was a changing table. It wasn’t decorated to look like a tree or anything, but it seemed just as sturdy. It wasn’t as big as Ashley would have liked it, but she was just small enough to where she could squeeze onto it if she tucked her legs. It would hold her weight. She would get to feel the padding of the changing mat against her back with her legs up in the air!  Just like in the picture, next to the table was a lidded metal trashcan with a weighted base. Not as flashy as a diaper genie but practical and impossible for a little one (or their parents) to accidentally tip over. There was no highchair. This made sense since the room wasn’t meant to act as a kitchen. No playpens either, which was good since playpens were for keeping children out adult pathways but this was a nursery. Similarly there was a dearth of baby swings or walkers. Any child young enough to need those would likely be in their parents’ arms most of the time, and Ashley never tried to get that “little” anyways. It’s not like she could have fit in any of the seats.     “This works,” Ashley said, “I’ll take it for the weekend.”  The old woman blinked like Ashley had just spoken in tongues. “What room will you be staying in?” Ashley maintained her composure, but was nonetheless grateful that her concealer was tinted to hide her blush. “I’d like to stay in this one, please.” She gulped but kept her mask up. “For the weekend.” The owner of the Bed and Breakfast tilted her head to the side again and squinted; clearly not understanding (not that Ashley could blame her). “This is a child’s room,” the old woman tried to explain. “It’s so if you have a baby they have a place to play that isn’t your room. Your child would stay here, and you would sleep in the bedroom across the hall or next door.” She thumbed behind her and pointed sideways, certain that Ashley was misunderstanding something.  “If they’re too big for a crib, I’ve got a cot, or if you’re not comfortable with them sleeping alone, I’ve got a playpen that I can turn into a little bed and place it next to yours.” Ashley smiled demurely and shook her head softly. “I understand. The information and pictures on your website were very clear.” The old woman adjusted her glasses. “Are you sure, ma’am? I don’t think you do.” Ashley winced at being called ‘ma’am’. “Let me explain,” she said, “Do you know that trend on the internet of people recreating their old baby pictures?” The woman- she had to be seventy if she was a day- pouted her bottom lip out and scrunched her face up slightly, trying to remember a random piece of trivia. “I think I’ve seen things like that on Facebook.” “Yeah,” Ashley laughed. “Me too. It’s what gave me the idea. Mother’s Day is coming up and I wanted to do something like that for my mom. But we moved around a lot as kids, so I can’t just go back into my old room. When I took the virtual tour of your home and I saw this room, I realized that it had a lot of the same things as the nursery from my old baby pictures. So I thought I could spend the weekend here and do a little photo shoot.” She paused and was once again grateful that she’d worn makeup.  The old woman glared at Ashley suspiciously. “You realize that just because children under five stay free…” “Oh-no-no-no-no!” Ashley waved her hands in front of her and laughed, more genuinely the first time. “I’m not trying to find a loophole or anything. I’m still paying for the full weekend.” She quickly added, “And if there was anyone here who needed this space I’d leave immediately to make room. I just want to spend the weekend here so that I can have some peace and quiet and also make a funny Mother’s Day card.”        The lady of the house took one more long look at Ashley. There was something witchy about her, but maybe that was just Ashley’s anxiety superimposing itself onto the woman. She was old enough to be Ashley’s grandmother…except no she wasn’t. She was old enough to be Ashley’s mother. Ashley was forty- and as both a millennial and an ageplayer- she was having trouble adjusting to that fact.   In fact the older woman vaguely reminded Ashley of her mother before she’d passed years ago. A slightly nasally voice, and a bit of a well meaning if naive demeanor, but with sharp intelligent eyes that were just always looking for the best in people. Ashley missed her mother. Her dad, too. Damn. Out of all the bullshit lies she could have concocted to justify renting out a child’s nursery, why did her brain have to spit out this one?  The ‘doing research for a part in a children’s television pilot’ would have worked just as well! “Well,” the woman said after a long deep breath, “We’ve had stranger requests and don’t have any other bookings this weekend. You can book the room if you want to.”  “Excellent. Do you need my card?” The woman shook her head. “Not necessary. We already have your card on file from your reservation and I looked at your ID when I met you at the door.” Ashley pressed her tongue to the back of her bottom row of teeth to keep the pleased smile on her face from breaking out into an enormous goofy grin.  “Good!” The hostess started seeing herself out.  “My husband and I live downstairs. Let us know if you need anything.” Ashley nodded, patient but eager. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure to do that.” “Like if you need me to take a silly picture of you for your mother.” The smile left Ashley’s eyes. “I appreciate that! I’ll be sure to let you know.” “This room doesn’t have a bathroom,” she reminded Ashley, “so if you wake up in the middle of the night you’ll have to make sure you’re decent.” Little did she know ….  “That won’t be a problem,” Ashley promised. “So far, it’s just you, me, and my husband but you never know.”  Ashley steaded her breathing so that she wouldn’t snip at the older woman. “You never know.” She sighed. “I promise I won’t be giving anybody a free show!” It sounded like something her mother might say. The two women laughed knowingly in that way that people did when both knew what the other was referring to but no one thought what was said was actually funny. “We’ve got a little nightlight that we keep in the hallway so that you don’t have to worry about bringing a flashlight or tripping over anything.” It wasn’t even noon! Why was she bringing this stuff up now? “Good to know. I forgot to bring a flashlight.” “Well you don’t need one.” Come on! Just leave already, lady!  “Good to know.” “Then I’ll just let you get settled in,” the hostess said and stepped back out into the hallway. “Much appreciated.”  She held the big fake smile until the door had finally closed and she had the nursery playroom all to herself. All of the oxygen flooded into the room and Ashley relaxed muscles she didn’t know she’d been tensing. The room seemed brighter.  She took a deep breath and picked up faint traces of vanilla from a scented candle on the dresser, and…was that a thin layer of baby powder dusted on top of the crib? Oh this place was perfect!  The sun had been behind a cloud outside. That cloud had just moved and now the bright little room looked even brighter. Ashley allowed herself a little squeak and clapped her hands quietly together, excited at her own cleverness.   Was it necessary to go to all this trouble just for a little headspace time?  Probably not. Was her highly implausible story about an internet meme that the boomer owners and proprietors of this Bed and Breakfast overly complicated and doomed to make repeat visits here more unlikely? Sadly yes. If the old woman actually knew what Ashley would be up to, would Ashley go out to the backyard, grab a shovel and dig her own grave.  Without hesitation. But Ashley was something of an introvert, discovered this whole ABDL thing relatively late in life, and wasn’t ready to explore this side of herself with anyone else just yet. That and this was less tedious than going to a munch and not nearly as expensive as going to a convention. Ashley wasn’t ready for that. New communities meant new people, new rules, new schedules, and the exhausting tedium of having to figure it all out. Presently, this was more Ashley’s speed: a private nursery on the outskirts of town, and nobody around who even remotely knew her. No nosey neighbors who might see the wrong thing if she forgot to close the curtains, or try to make awkward small talk with her in the parking lot when she was just trying to discretely toss a black garbage bag full of adult sized disposable diapers in the apartment complex dumpster. It was paranoid, but so was Ashley! More to the point, when she’d been perusing hotels for her little stay-cation, she found this place and knew if she didn’t try it FOMO would itch at her brain until she finally caved and tried!  It would be a tight fit, but she’d get to sleep in an actual crib and play in an actual nursery! Ashley hoisted her suitcase up on top of the dresser and immediately began unpacking. All five  onesies she owned went in the top drawer, followed by a set of footie pajamas. The middle drawer became home to a few retro t-shirts featuring children’s shows that she could have worn back when she was a toddler, some hot pink shorts that felt cute enough for her to wear and not feel too grown-up about it, and some frilly ankle socks she found in her size a few weeks ago.  The bottom drawer would contain the jeans, socks, bra and adult panties she would wear on her way out tomorrow afternoon when she left.   The chances were highly unlikely that she would wear everything she’d packed, but having those extra clothes helped her headspace and anxiety. She was staying. She had options. For the next twenty four hours and some change this was her nursery. Speaking of things that were hers… Ashley quietly felt her heart race carrying the diapers- her diapers- over to the changing table. The shelves beneath it were spaced so that she could make two whole stacks of four side by side without anything falling off. She slid them in almost reverently, then went back to her suitcase and dug out a bottle of baby powder and wipes. Whomever the previous guest was, they hadn’t left any baby supplies behind. This was good in Ashley’s book.  Besides it being a matter of hygiene, leftovers would only remind her how little she really wasn’t, and that diapers were no longer plastic backed. The stacks of Super Dry Kids were mostly white, covered in soft crinkly plastic, had only two tapes (leaks be damned), and were almost identical to the ones she wore in some of her actual baby pictures. The hardest part of there being ‘Good Old Days’ is that nobody ever told you when you were having them before they were over. According to Ashley’s brain, those days had started to fade away sometime before kindergarten and weekends like this one were a way to get some of them back. She probably (definitely) wouldn’t wear all of the clothes she’d packed and something would need to go terribly wrong for her to need almost an entire pack of SDK’s for just one weekend, but the excess of everything reassured her that she wasn’t in danger of running out and made it feel more ‘real’ to her. That and who wouldn’t pack extra clothes and diapers for a baby?  Ashley unfolded a black garbage bag and stuffed it deep down into the lidded garbage can. This wasn’t camping, but she had every intent to leave this place just as clean as when she found it. Finally, she danced back over to her suitcase, shut the flap, and unzipped the front pocket. “I hope this works…”  she said, gingerly touching the first alphabet refrigerator magnet to the metal can. The A stuck!  Success! Ashley’s face lit up and she dug around in the palm of her hand for an S. Then an H. Then an L, E, Y, and so on, until the side of the garbage can read in bright primary colors “ASHLEY’S DIAPERS”.   Just seeing the words on there, and the diapers underneath the changing table next to it, and knowing the dresser was now full of clothes that complimented said diapers… it was enough to give her goosebumps! THUNK-THUNK! The door creaked open and the hostess poked her head in. “Sorry if I’m interrupting!”  Ashley stepped forward, putting herself between the bedroom door and the dresser. “Hm? You’re not interrupting.” She was blushing so hot she felt like she was burning her mascara away.  She was still fully clothed, and wasn’t wearing anything embarrassing (yet) but she still had to fight the urge to scream and cover up like she’d just been walked in on.  “What’s up?”  “Lunch will be ready in about an hour and a half,” the hostess said. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.” Ashley leaned back against the dresser, trying and failing to play it cool. “I uh…thought this was just a bed and breakfast. Is it also a chair lunch dinner?” The Mitch Hedberg reference sailed straight over the older woman’s head. That or Ashley just wasn’t very funny.  “Breakfast is included. So is lunch and dinner if things are slow enough.” A beat passed. “It’s slow enough. We’re having leftover spaghetti if you want some.” “I’ll think about it,” Ashley lied. “But I think I’m just going to set up here. Maybe take a nap or something.” The boomer nodded. “That makes sense. Everybody else who stays in this room usually needs a nap.” Ashley laughed, but filed that thought away for later. “Right. Good one.” “Alrighty then,” the older woman sighed and smiled. “We’ll save some for ya, but don’t feel bad if you don’t have an appetite. Is there anything else I can get you before I head back downstairs.”  “Just some privacy.”  It wasn’t meant to be rude, and Ashley was on edge enough to not overmuch care.  “Thank you.” “Of course. Hope to see you in a little over an hour.” ******************************************************************************************************* Little Ashley laid on her back on the padded vinyl playmat, a stuffed brown teddy bear in her right hand, a plush yellow duckling in her left, and a pacifier between her lips. “Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh…” Little Ashley mumbled. “Buh-muh-muh-buh-buh-buh. Muuuuh-muh-buh-muh.” The nonsense gurgling coming from her mouth was so soft and low that not even the stuffed toys would have been able to hear it. Was she talking for the stuffies in a bit of play acting? Or was she mumbling to herself?  Or was she just stimming and self soothing like any baby girl her age might? That line of thinking was far too complicated for her.  She was barely a toddler. She wasn’t putting on a performance, but modeling for herself and practicing out of her own natural curiosity.  People made noises with their mouths all the time; so many wonderful sounds! That she didn’t have an audience to hear it didn’t matter. The stuffies, in this instance, were the soothing tool.  If she was going to practice making noises, she might as well have pretty and soft things to look at and squeeze. A few seconds of silence ticked by and Little Ashley forgot what she’d been doing. She rolled over and crawled towards the big basket with the rattles and pop-up toys.  She’d already spilled it over exploring a few seconds before getting distracted by the big swimmable pile of stuffies but it had gotten her attention again. Hypothetically, she could have walked over to fetch the toys but the idea hadn’t occurred to her.  She was big enough to walk, but little enough to where crawling felt just as natural and viable.  Her Rainbow Brite t-shirt didn’t hang low enough to get caught up and dragged by her knees, but it also didn’t do a particularly good job of covering her diaper. That was okay, because that wasn’t her t-shirt’s job. Baby girls like her didn’t need to cover their diapers; least of all at home on a Spring day. Mama had just dressed her in it so she wouldn’t get cold. Little Ashley didn’t consciously notice the crinkling coming from her rear while she crawled. Why would she? It had been with her all her life. Noticing the crinkle when she crawled would be like noticing the tiny muted pops in her ears every time she yawned or swallowed. It wasn’t anything to notice, just literal background noise. Her diaper was a little damp, even though her Mama had changed her less than an hour ago. That was okay. Diapers did that sometimes. Little Ashley was far too much of a baby to be upset by it.  She was comfy and it wouldn’t be until the diaper got much wetter that it would start to feel uncomfortable.  Then and only then would she start mewling and whimpering for Mama or Daddy to come find her and change her into a fresh one. The suitcase was stashed behind Mama’s rocking chair, there for the next time they went on vacation or when Ashley would go spend the night with her Gram-Gram. But she wasn’t going anywhere today. That’s why Mama didn’t even put shoes on her today.  Her auburn hair was up in pigtails to keep it out of her face while playing, and Mama had just emptied the diaper pail, so that the only thing at the bottom of the bag were the dozen or so wipes it took to remove makeup to her satisfaction.  Why had a baby girl, barely a toddler, been wearing so much makeup?  Ashley didn’t want to think about that.  If she’d have thought it through, makeup would have been the first thing she would have removed. A quick trip down the hall to the bathroom, with soap, a washcloth, her own makeup remover, and a mirror to work with? The minor chore would have taken five minutes tops, not close to thirty.    But ‘thinking it through’ was the first ability she lost the moment she dipped even a pinky toe into little space.  She’d been pantsless, braless, powdered and padded up before she remembered that she’d had any makeup on. Putting her pants back on- or worse, temporarily removing her diaper- would have been like being shoved into an ice cold lake.  That and there were the more obvious obstacles to work around. Hardly impossible, but definitely a buzzkill. Oh-oh-oh!     Little Ashley had already had a busy morning of exploring her house and getting into Mama’s makeup drawer. Mama hadn’t laughed and taken a picture but then did her best to wipe the grown up gunk off her face.  “We’re definitely going to need a bath tonight, little girl,” Mama chuckled. A big goofy grin spread across Ashley’s face and she giggled from behind her pacifier. The story she’d just told herself felt so real that she swore she could hear Mama’s voice like recalling a not at all distant memory.  Ashley was DEEP in headspace. She was practically drowning in it with how real and authentic it felt. She felt loose and free and excited yet secure. Just like a real baby. The diapered woman was so deep into headspace that in some circles it could be considered a form of self-hypnosis. Little Ashely took a long, boxy pop-up toy out of the overturned basket and examined it. It looked like several small Jack-in-the-boxes molded together side by side. Each box had a different colored trap door and a different corresponding mechanism in front to open it.   She pushed a little white button on the left and white trap door on the left popped up, revealing a friendly orange faced man with a red nose and messy black hair holding a rubber duck. “Rubber duckie, you’re the one!” came a worn soundbite from a hidden speaker on the back. ERNIE!  SESAME STREET!  The baby girl’s eyes lit up with excitement, surprise, and recognition. She loved Sesame Street when she was little!  She was little now, too, so she got to love Sesame Street again. The neurotic, ashamed adult part of her, slumbering deep beneath the surface barely stirred. Sesame Street was timeless! Immersion: Intact! Cognitive dissonance: Non-existent! Little Ashley went for the next trap door. She flicked a flat green lightswitch down and up popped Ernie’s curmudgeonly counterpart. “Doin’...the pigeon!”   The baby girl wasn’t big enough to properly say any of the character’s names, so she just giggled and rocked back and forth, her tittering laughter ricocheting around like a machine gun. “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!” This was the best decision she’d ever made! She swiped an orange knob from side to side. Out from the speakers came the refrain “Ab-cuh-def-ghee-jeckyl-munop-querstu-vixyz!” and with it Big Bird himself! Ashley sat back on her heels just so she could ball up her fists and shake them like she was cheering for herself. This was better than getting drunk! Better than getting stoned! Better than that one time she experimented with mushrooms!  Who needed drugs, when you had Sesame Street? She turned a white knob from left to right, and the second white trap door opened so that Cookie Monster could yell the first one and a half seconds of “C Is For Cookie”. Oh no! She’d made a mistake!  She’d thought that every door was supposed to be a different color, but there were two white!  Two greens too if she counted the final box! Only Big Bird’s box and button were uniquely colored and Ashley had been too little to make that distinction. “Several colors” and “all the colors” were pretty much the same thing to her! Ashley fell back on the playmat, giggling to herself and hiding her face in her hands.  She was SO little right now! She was so little that it was amazing. This was so much better than doing it at home where all her adult things were in plain sight to remind her or at a bland motel where she’d have to put so much energy into rearranging the environment to an acceptable level.  The adult version of her had thought it was slightly strange that a locally owned B&B would have such a specific room available. It had seemed simply too good to be true. But if this was one of those AR traps people joked about online, she didn’t want to escape. Little Ashley rolled over and around back to her toy. Who would the final door reveal?  Would it be Elmo? Grover? Kermit?!  The release mechanism was a green circle with holes in it, like an old fashioned rotary phone. Perhaps that gave a clue? CREEEEEAK! Little Ashley did not look up from her deep and thoughtful pondering over what mysteries the final Sesame Street Popper might yet conceal. The sound of the door creaking open and the approaching footsteps were like the crinkle of her diaper. All of them were so normal as to not consciously register without deliberate thought.  Nurseries didn’t have doors that locked, babies didn’t know what privacy was, and Mama or Daddy coming in to check on her was something that made her feel safe instead of interrupted.   What Little Ashley didn’t remember or know was that the first thing she’d done before attempting to regress was to move her suitcase and the old rocking chair up against the nursery door.  Unlockable doors made sense for an infant’s room. They also presented the biggest obstacle to Ashley’s ability to focus.  She’d never gotten around to explaining this side of herself to her actual parents; she didn’t want to have to worry about being walked in on by someone who they could have gone to high school with. If she’d been feeling a little less little she would have been freaking out at the impossible and be scrambling to yank down her t-shirt impossibly far down so that the intruder at least wouldn’t see that her wet diaper had cartoon teddy bears on the front. Presently the only thing she was worried about was who was under the final trap door?  Little ashley reached forward and gripped the dial knob. She twisted it to the right.   “OH IIIIII LOOOOOVE TRAAAASH!” came Oscar the Grouch’s soothingly gravel voice. She did it! She didn’t guess correctly at all but she knew who it was!  That was enough to earn herself a celebratory roll around on the floor and giggling spree.   “Hehehehehehe! WOOOOOOOO!”  The world was so topsy turvy that she only registered the pair of ruby red flats and the feet inside of them as something to not bump into, not unlike the legs of her crib. “Awwwww! Do you like trash, Ashley?” A new, happy voice cooed down at her on the floor. “Is that why you’re rollin’ around on the ground? Is it?” Ashley stopped rolling and looked at the bemused observer. Ashley had never seen the woman in her life, but there was something strangely familiar about her. Instead of salmon colored slacks she had on purple leggings. She’d kept the same and a white top but over it was a light sport jacket with purple, purple, red, green, and yellow hues in a geometric pattern. It had a zip-up style design but with large brown buttons down the front.   For reasons that were beyond her understanding at the moment, Ashley thought the woman looked younger than she remembered. The woman didn’t wear any glasses, even though part of Ashley was positive she had been. No wrinkles either; or at least not as pronounced. Her hair was not a pale straw colored bundle of sticks finishing their final fade washes into gray, but golden, vibrant, and most of all BIG!  She looked young, too, younger perhaps than the face Ashley saw in the mirror from time to time.   Younger, perhaps, but also from a time when Ashley would have been much younger too.   The pacifier dropped from Little Ashley’s lips. “Mama?”   “Thaaaat’s right!” Mama beamed. “Iiiit’s Mama!”  She bent down and plucked Ashley off the ground.  “Ready to go get some yummy-yummy lunch?” No.  But also yes.  She wanted to keep playing with her pop toy. Maybe if she did it again, her other Sesame Street friends would pop out. Or if they were the same every time that would be just as good too.  On the other hand, she’d forgotten that she was hungry.  The little girl nodded her consent and Mama was taking her out of the nursery and down the stairs after the first little bob. Something looked different about the house in a way that the little girl couldn’t quite put her saliva coated thumb on. Everything seemed bigger and brighter; the same yet different. There was wallpaper instead of paint coating the walls. The stairs didn’t make as much noise when Mama carried her down. There was berber carpet on the floor instead of hardwood paneling  Check that! The hardwood paneling was on the kitchen walls and not the floors. “Ready for some Spaghetti-S’s?” a new voice asked. Ashley broke off from her own sense of wonder and tracked the voice to its source. Standing by the stove, gently stirring a pot filled with noodles and red sauce was a man that felt strangely familiar, but that Ashley had never seen before.  He was about the same age as Mama, but didn’t look related. He looked more related to Ashley than to Mama. They both had the same head of thick auburn hair; his bushy yet combed, hers up in pigtails. Underneath his ‘Kiss The Cook’ novelty apron, he wore black denim jeans and a gray and white striped button up collared shirt with no visible tie. Men’s fashion didn’t tend to shift as wildly as women’s over the years, so nothing stuck out as ‘different’ or ‘retro’ save for perhaps his Bert Reynolds style mushstache.  “Spaghetti- S’s?” Mama repeated, more amused than confused. “Well yeah,” the cook repeated. “That’s what people call them when they’re not in O-shape.” Mama chuckled. Both her and Ashley bobbed with her laughter. “I’m pretty sure it’s just leftover spaghetti.” The cook shook his head in exaggerated disagreement.  “Naaaaah! Spaghetti is just what it’s made out of. You throw it in a can full of tomato sauce and heat it up, it becomes Spaghetti-S’s.”  He leaned out from the stove and playfully pinched Ashley on the cheek.  “Isn’t that right, pumpkin?” Ashley giggled reflexively, then paused. Pumpkin? Did he know her? Who was-? It was like a switch had just been flipped and the identity of the chef popped up out of a trap door and into her brain. “DADDY!” Daddy’s face lit up like Christmas. “That’s right! I’m Daddy! Daddy! Daaaaadeeee!” Ashley’s face lit up right across from his. “DADDY!” Daddy’s hand reached for his heart so that it wouldn’t fly out of his chest with ecstasy. “Daddy? Liz! She called me ‘Daddy’!”  “I was here too, James!” Mama chirped.  Daddy was smiling like Ashley had just said her first word. In his book, she just might have.  “Not ‘Dada’, or ‘Duh-Duh’, or ‘Daaaaaa’, or ‘Dum-Dum’. I’m Daddy! Daddy!”  He stepped away from the stove and took Ashley off of Mama’s hip so that he could spin her around on his own. “DADDEEEEEEEEE!” “DADDEEEEEEEEE!” Ashley copied him. “A celebration I say!” Daddy crowed. “A feast! Spaghetti-S’s for everyone!”  Little Ashley giggled, loving Daddy’s tone even if she didn’t fully understand his words. She giggled from adrenaline and sighed with contentment when Daddy danced over to the kitchen table and plopped her in her straight backed highchair with the vinyl backing and soft balloon pattern. She didn’t know it, but the closest comparable feeling she had was the relief she would later associate with finishing a roller coaster ride and walking safely back out into the carnival grounds. “Say it again, Ashley!” Daddy coaxed. “Say ‘Daddy’ again.” Mama took over the stove and ladled out leftover spaghetti into plastic bowls. “Oh sure, you’re happy about it now. Wait till she’s sixteen and asking you for the car keys.” She pitched her voice up in an impression of a stereotypical whiny teenager. “Please, Daddy! I promise I’ll be back by ten, Daddy!” Daddy stepped away from the highchair and drew Mama in close. “You think I’m going to ever let her go on dates?” He purred.   “Oh please,” Mama scoffed with a smile. “She’ll have you wrapped around her little finger.” He leaned in and gave Mama a peck on the cheek. “You and me both, baby.” He started pecking down her neck. “You and me both.” Baby?! No fair, Ashley was supposed to be the baby!  “Dadadadadadadadadadada!” She protested. Daddy broke off his kiss and Mama laughed. “Hahaha! So much for that!” “Yeah yeah,” Daddy smirked. “Rub it in my face, why don’tcha?”  Little Ashley giggled if only because she liked the funny faces Daddy made.   Daddy grabbed a dark red plastic bowl that was almost the same color as the sauce and took it to the kitchen table, right by Ashley’s highchair.  “Alrighty then, pumpkin, let’s eat.” Mama rushed over right before Daddy could place the bowl of Spaghetti-S’s down in front of the baby girl. “Hold on!” she said. “Let me get that shirt off of her. She slept all night in it. It needs a wash.” That was odd. Ashley thought the story she’d told herself was that Mama had put her Rainbow Brite shirt on her this morning so she wouldn’t get cold. But Mama and Daddy were bigger, nicer, and smarter than her. Mama and Daddy knew best. “Do you want to get the sauce stains out of that shirt?” Mama crossed her arms and tapped her foot that way she did when she wasn’t going to let Daddy win. “I don’t,” Daddy said, “but I also don’t want to give her a bath until bedtime and I don’t want her getting all sticky.”  “That’s why she has bibs,” Mama said. “With spaghetti?” Daddy asked. “We both know a bib isn’t going to-” He stopped himself and looked down at his apron. “Okay. Take it off. I’ve got an idea. ”  “This I’ve got to see.”  Mama turned back around and reached down to the hem of Ashley’s t-shirt. “Arms up, baby girl.”  Ashley’s arms went up to the sky as if it were a reflex. She was too little to truly understand that refusal or disobedience was an option.  Mama whisked the t-shirt off of her.  “Good girl!”     Little Ashley smiled and clapped to herself, proud for her ability to make Mama as happy as Mama made her. Now she was gonna get some yummy noodles and red sauce! Then she’d go back to play with her toys, or maybe Daddy was gonna give her a bath. She hoped he remembered to use the bubbles! The bubbles were the best! Ashley reached out for the Spaghetti-S’s, but her tray was locked in and the bowl was still woefully out of reach from her tiny fingers.  She looked down past her breasts towards her highchair’s tray and smacked it repeatedly.   “Dadadadadada!”  She babbled and kicked her feet, demanding that he fix this egregious error at once.   IT WAS SPAGHETTI TIME! “Just a second, just a second,” Daddy chuckled, taking his apron off. Little Ashley blinked. Her breasts?  How did she have breasts?  Inwardly, Ashley began to wonder how she was kicking her legs. Her play area didn’t have anything remotely close to a highchair.  Immersion: Unstable.  Cognitive dissonance: growing. Daddy’s apron fluttered across her, coating and obscuring her from the neck down, and tenting down over her dining tray. She hadn’t had many yet, but somehow Little Ashley felt like she was about to get a haircut instead of a bowl full of leftover spaghetti.  “What are you doing?” Mama asked, hiding her smile behind her hand. “Bah-bah-bah-bah-baaaaaaah?” Little Ashley agreed. Her Daddy was being so silly! Daddy kept working. “Hold on. Hold on. Let me try something.” He looped the apron’s neck behind the baby girl’s head and hooked it to the back of her highchair. Then he took the billowing bottom part and tuck-tuck-tuck-tucked it back down under the tray and over her legs. “Almost got it!” Finally, he took the big long apron strings in the back and tugged and tied and tightened it so that the apron was snug up against her, adding an extra restraint to the highchair. Little Ashley couldn’t move, couldn’t see her arms or legs, still hadn’t had any spaghetti, and her diaper suddenly got slightly warmer for some reason.  But she was also the center of attention, Daddy seemed proud, and Mama was trying hard not to laugh. Daddy took a step to the side and gestured to Ashley trapped in her highchair. “I present to you, mega bib! Tadaaaaa!” “Taaaaaaaaaa!” Ashley tried to echo her Daddy. Mama started laughing like Daddy was being extremely silly.  “Oh my gosh, James!” she was laughing so hard she had to lean against the kitchen table to stop from falling over. “What are you doing?” “Whaaaat?” Daddy put his hands on his hips but he was still smiling. “ I don’t care if the apron gets stained and this way she won’t get messy.” Mama was still laughing but she calmed down enough so that she could stand up.  “I’m getting the camera. This deserves a picture.” Daddy watched Mama walk away. He called after her. “I might have just invented something revolutionary, Liz! Damn right it deserves a picture!” He chuckled and then remembered that Ashley was staring directly at him.  “I mean ‘darn right’!” “Dadadadadadadadada!” He scratched his mustache uncomfortably and muttered. “I hope you’re still practicing ‘Daddy’ when you say that, pumpkin.” The bowl of yummy noodles was finally placed in front of her. “Come on. Eat up.” Daddy encouraged her. “Before Mama gets back.”   “AAAAAAAH!” Ashley opened her mouth, waiting for Daddy to get a fork and feed it to her. She’d already tried getting her arms out from beneath the giant smock of an apron-bib while Mama was laughing and wasn’t successful. “Oh right! Hold on!”  Daddy reached into the highchair and guided Ashley’s hands out from underneath the tent-like bib he’d fashioned for her.  “Now try it!” Just like with Mama’s command to raise her hands up and get naked at a moment’s notice, Little Ashley reached out with both arms and dug into the bowl of spaghetti like it was the bloody entrails of her prey. She scooped it and squished it in her fingers for just a second and then shoveled as much as she could into her mouth. She pretended that she was Cookie Monster and the spaghetti was cookies. They weren’t cookies, but they were still pretty good.  “MMMMMMMMMMMM!” She managed to hum-scream while gulping down the delicious stuff.  It was no ‘Om-nom-nom’ but it was a valiant first effort considering she’d barely mastered ‘Mama’ and was still working on ‘Daddy’.  Daddy definitely agreed.  “SUCCESS!” he cheered and threw his hands up. Mama came back in, holding a fancy new camera. “What was a suc-? OH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”  And just like that Mama needed help standing up again. Little Ashley could relate. Mama was laughing so hard, Ashley briefly wondered if Mama would need a diaper change when she was done.   “MHMMMPH!” the little girl giggled with her mouth full of noodles.  A few of the wriggly ones squirmed out of her mouth and landed onto her improvised bib. Mama stood up and picked the camera up. “Say cheese!” Daddy helped. “Cheeeese!” Bright flashes of light made spots dance all around Little Ashley’s eyes. The camera spit out a little black rectangle. Mama took it out and started flapping it like a fan. “This is going straight into her baby book!” “She’s going to be so embarrassed by this when she’s older,” Daddy chuckled.  Still flapping her rectangle, Mama walked up and gave Daddy a kiss. “Then let’s enjoy this while we can.” Little Ashley went in for more fistfuls of Spaghetti-S’s. Things calmed down considerably from there. Mama and Daddy took their seats at the table and ate with metal forks.  Ashley slurped down her yummy lunch with her hands. Her mouth was full and her tongue and tummy were happy, so she didn’t feel the need to talk.  She was content to watch and listen to the big people who took care of her instead and make pretty red circles on her tray. She didn’t know what they were talking about: The words went in one ear and out the other. Something about people rushing into a big wall and an even bigger ray gun that was going to knock it down. Her Mama and Daddy didn’t yell, or coo, or ask questions. They were just making mouth sounds at each other.  Sometimes they nodded, but mostly they were just eating quietly and making sounds. Ashley swallowed another bite and tried to join in. “Gagagaga-gaaaaaah!” They turned their heads, but as soon as it was obvious that she wasn’t crying, they turned their heads back and kept talking about that ray gun. They really liked that ray gun for some reason. Little Ashley wrinkled her nose. They kind of sounded like the people on the Boring Show that Ashley sometimes passed out to when it was late at night and she was laying in Mama or Daddy’s lap with a bottle, trying to get her to go to sleep. Just like when they were watching the Boring Show, Ashley let out a big, loooooooong yawn. Mama and Daddy stopped talking and noticed her. “Mhm,” Daddy nodded. “It’s about that time.”  Mama stood up from the table. “I got the last one.” Daddy stood up, too.  “Then I’ll get this one.” Mama grabbed his plate of Spaghetti-S’s.  It wasn’t as pretty as Ashley’s tray, but Daddy tried his best and that was all that mattered. “I’ll get the dishes.” Daddy took the apron-bib and wiped Ashley’s sticky mouth and hands. He popped open a nearby tub of baby wipes and dabbed back over just to be thorough.  “Thank you, dear.” “Welcome, honey.” It took him longer than usual, and Mama did a good job not laughing, but Daddy got the bib off and finally carried Little Ashley back upstairs.  Ashley didn’t pay attention. She was too full, and Daddy was big, strong, and comfy.  When they got up to her room, Daddy patted her bum. Her diaper was so squishy that even she could tell the difference. “Oh yup,” Daddy grunted to himself. “This isn’t going to make it through nap time.”  He laid Ashley down on her changing table and started changing her diaper. The sound of the tapes ripping was like the sound of trumpets playing a fanfare. He opened the diaper and she lay there naked, staring up at him tenderly and trustingly.  She didn’t try to cover herself, because no one had ever told her to do that. Daddy wiped her gently and smoothly between her legs and on her bottom. The wipes were cold but Daddy moved them around quickly so the chilling sensation never lingered in one spot for more than a second.  By the time he went for the second wipe, the area he’d swabbed with the first was clean and air drying. Same for the third.   She shivered and her fingers found their way into her mouth. “Blblblblblblb.”  She’d meant to say “Daddy” again, but her fingers were getting in the way. Daddy balled up the old diaper, tossed it away, and grabbed a fresh one. The old diaper landed with a muted thump and the new one sounded extra crisp and crinkly by comparison. He didn’t take his eyes off of what he was doing, though.  “Yeah,” he cooed. “That’s right! New diaper!” The baby powder sprinkled onto her delicate skin like flower scented snow.  Daddy was extra careful not to get any of it on his hands so that the tapes would still stick.  He pulled the new diaper up and taped it on nice and snug, but not too tight.  Daddy was talented like that. His big strong hand stayed on her chest so that she couldn’t accidentally roll off the table while he sidestepped to her dresser. “Let’s get you something comfy,” he said to no one in particular. He opened up her top drawer and pulled out a bright yellow onesie. “Oh yeah,” he clicked his tongue. “This’ll do.” Little Ashley was a smart baby. She knew to sit up when Daddy took his hand off of her and pulled.  He didn’t have to tell her to raise her hands so that he could tug the onesie down over her head. And she was only a little confused when he laid her back down.  She thought she was getting another diaper change, but he was just popping the snappies between her legs together. “Good night, little girl,” he whispered softly to her, placing her down in her crib.  He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. His big bushy mustache was so tickly!  “Sleep tight.” He raised the crib railing up so that she wouldn’t fall out. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Little Ashley’s eyes were already closing. “Dadadadadadada,” she mumbled. “Daddy.” “I love you too, pumpkin.” She could hear his smile in his words. “I love you, too.  Night night.” ******************************************************************************************* Ashley opened her eyes and sat upright in the crib with a jolt!  Her legs ached like they’d fallen asleep. Her back wasn’t doing great, either.  She’d just given herself one of the most immersive fantasy experiences of her life, and her body was insistent on telling her that mistakes had been made.  Grown-up bodies weren’t meant to cram themselves into baby sized cribs, and ‘could do it’ was a far, far cry from ‘should try it’. The room was dark, but the sun was still out. She hadn’t overslept during her self-imposed nap.  That was good. It would suck if she literally spent all weekend sleeping. Dreaming was fun, but Ashley still wanted to be awake enough to appreciate her headspace.   That Daddy character, though… A pleasant shiver ran through her.   Where had he come from and how did she make sure to have that dream again? ‘Mama’ was certainly influenced by her gracious hostess, but Ashley had no clue where Mr. Mustache man came from. A bit of anxiety flared up in the diapered woman. Sitting up straight, she looked over the crib bars and checked the door. The rocking chair and her suitcase were still against the door. No one would have been able to open it without making a hell of a lot of noise. Muscles sore and limbs stiff, Ashley climbed out of the crib. She was just graceful enough to hop over the railing without landing like a hailstone, but a win was a win.  How had she managed to raise the railing and lock it in place?   She hadn’t taken the time to fiddle with the crib and figure it out before she’d started playing. She looked down at herself and realized that her favorite Rainbow Brite shirt was no longer on and that she’d put on one of her onesies. Ashley frowned; her adult-self confused and her little side mildly frightened. She could have sworn that had just been part of the dream.  What a wonderful dream. Standing on her own two feet again made her more aware of her diaper, too. It was wet!  Ashley wasn’t a bedwetter!  How had that happened? In the dim gloom, her eyes flickered over to the trashcan. The magnet letters on them proclaimed for everyone- her, Mama, and Daddy- that this was where her diapers went. She must have just changed her into her onesie and hopped into the crib.   But there were only six diapers left on her rented changing table. And there was a very wet one balled up at the bottom of the lidded garbage can. “The fuck is going on?” Ashley whispered to herself. She wasn’t wholly sure that she wanted to know.  

Yesterday while driving with my wife she found Huggies Little Monsters (Little Movers) on sale for $10 a box at Walmart.   I wear Megamax, rearz dinos or Pac pals and like to use size 7-8 as staffers.  We stopped by the closest Walmart and found they was indeed on sale so we bought 7 boxes of 7's that had 36 diapers for $10 a piece.  

Chapter Seven All Sam could do was sit there as Sophie took his hand and started working on his nails. Similar to when she got in his personal space to do his hair and make-up, the experience was mostly awkward due to them not having a particularly close or touchy relationship. Now, she casually held his hand and carefully painted one nail at a time. He was still sitting there in nothing but panties and a bra, which was a continual source of discomfort. “Not so bad, right?” she asked, upon finishing his left hand. Leaning forward, she gently blew on his fingers for a few seconds, then instructed him to stay still while they dried. She repeated the process with his other hand, casually mentioning how it’s always the worst when you smudge nail polish and have to start over. While that was true, it was obvious she meant it as a warning in terms of what would happen if he messed up  Once the right hand was done, she held it for a few extra seconds as she examined her work. “Looks good, Samantha,” she said, blowing on the fresh polish like before, “Why don’t you sit here and be a good little girl for a minute? I’m going to touch up my own hair and make-up in the bathroom. I would have done it earlier, but someone spent forever in there.” It wasn’t as if Sam could do anything else. He had no idea how long it took nail polish to dry, plus Sophie was the only one who could help him convincingly pass as a girl. So he just sat at the guest room desk, occasionally grimacing at the sound of laughter coming from the floor below. Embarrassing as it was letting his sister treat him like this, he still wasn’t ready to face a room full of girls he had never met. He still wasn’t sure this would actually work. Surely someone would notice that he was actually a guy, right? “Miss me?” Sophie announced her return with a tease that shifted into a point about his false age, “So, you’re twelve. I’m assuming you’re going to play it like you’re a shy tween who hides in the corner and reads her book, or whatever?” Probably. Mostly since talking in the higher tone still felt unnatural, and one slip up would reveal his actual gender. Unfortunately, he didn’t have some preteen novel to use as a prop. Nor did he know what girls read at that age compared to the occasional book he got into back then. She held up a simple pink sundress. “This is perfect for you, sis. I’m pretty sure I had a dress just like this when I was your age.” Great. As usual, Sam couldn’t argue. Everything that Sophie found amusing about the disguise he needed was also what would make it as believable as possible. And he had already been warned that there would be a dress in his near future.  Reluctantly following Sophie’s instructions, he stood up and took the girly outfit from here, taking the tiniest bit of solace in the fact that it would cover up the panties/bra combo after his extended time half dressed. The sundress was rather simple in design. All Sam had to do was pull it over his head like a t-shirt; once his arms were through the thin straps, gravity did the rest of the work. The training bra did its magic once there was a layer over the undergarment, making it look like he had the slightest bit of swell up there. The dress did a perfect job of completing the look Sophie had set him up to have. His height and slender frame made him look more feminine and youthful now that his body was hairless, and the make-up softened any remaining masculine features. It was remarkably convincing, unless someone looked really carefully. “Oh, this is perfect,” Sophie smirked. She took Sam’s hand and walked him over to the full length mirror, “What do you think?” This wasn’t the first time he had seen his reflection after being all dolled up. Before, however, he had been wearing the flower girl dress; that had been more fancy and frilly, and felt more like a costume for a boy who had no experience with feminine clothes. This was different. Between the simple dress and the make-over Sophie had given him, Sam essentially looked like a middle school girl who was dressing up a little bit for whatever reason. It was eerily convincing, even for the guy who saw himself daily and knew his actual gender. He wasn’t given much time to process the transformation. “Ready, Samantha?” Sophie asked. Still gripping his hand, she led him from the bedroom and towards the stairs. “Remember, stick to the story. You’re starting middle school this fall. And how old are you?” Did they really have to go through all that again? Sam was more than capable of remembering that he was ‘twelve,’ as well as the name of the school he had attended when he was in his early teenage years. The only reason he played along was for the sake of practicing his female voice one last time before needing to use it on people who didn’t actually know him. “I’m twelve years old,” he said. “Hope you can pull it off,” Sophie said, “There’s no going back now!” She led them back down to the main floor, where there were even more girls gathered than before.  A good five or six bridesmaids in the living room, as well as a handful in the kitchen with Fiona and Michelle. One noticed them right away, and Sophie gave a small wave. Sam blushed and glanced away, unintentionally selling the story that he was a rather introverted girl compared to his sisters. Well, not sisters. He still had no idea how he was supposed to be related to them, when there would be cousins and other family members at the wedding who would need an explanation for some niece or cousin they didn’t know. “Hey!” A brunette near the edge of the kitchen greeted them, “You must be Sophie.” “What gave it away?” Sophie teased. She was basically a teenage Fiona, with how similar their hair and skin tone were. “I’m Mary,” she said, “I’m guessing this is Mia?” Apparently not everyone had heard about the original flower girl not being able to make it. “Samantha, actually,” Sophie said, “She’s my step-sister. And the flower girl for this weekend.” Sam tensed up. What was Sophie doing?! Of all the things he had been worried about, he hadn’t expected to deal with such a blatant lie. While he hadn’t actually met their extended family, either Fiona or Michelle would have mentioned a step-brother somewhere along the way. “It’s very nice to meet you, Samantha,” Mary said, “I love your dress.” She must have been one of the bridesmaids that didn’t know about Fiona’s step-sibling. A lucky break for the time being, though that luck would hardly last with so many of Fiona’s closest friends and family gathered. Sophie nudged him. “She just complimented your dress, Sammie. Be polite.” There was no time to get lost in the what-ifs. Sophie’s cue was enough to break him out of his thoughts, at which point he blushed and quietly cleared his throat. “ . . . Thank you.” “You’re very welcome,” Mary smiled, then turned to Sophie, “Are you allowed to drink? I can grab you something.” “Hmm, I can have a glass of wine with family. Or two glasses, if I’m sneaky.” Mary chuckled. “Sounds about right. Trust me, I’ve been there. Just don’t go overboard, okay?” “Of course not. This is Fiona’s big weekend,” Sophie said, “Glass of white, please!” As soon as Mary turned towards the kitchen island to grab the bottle, Sam tugged on Sophie’s hand. He needed to talk to her, but he couldn’t use his real voice when they were in a more public area. Even talking like a girl didn’t totally work, as he also didn’t want anyone to overhear. They really should have discussed the details before leaving the privacy of the bedroom. However, he had been too flustered by the finished product of Sophie’s makeover of him. Ignoring his pull, Sophie greeted one of the other bridesmaids. “Hey, Eliza! Have you met my little sister?” The second introduction didn’t go quite as smoothly. “I thought you had a brother?” she asked. “Oh. Funny story,” Sophie said, “Someone else misheard that, too. Until recently, Samantha used to be a bit of a tomboy. You know, short hair, liked to run around with the boys, and all that. I think someone heard ‘boy’ when Fiona was talking about her, and a few people got the wrong idea. Thankfully, Sammie finally outgrew that whole phase! Isn’t that right, Sammie?” All Sam could do was nod. He was focusing most of his efforts on keeping a straight face. This wasn’t what he and Sophie had talked about! Even if her little story worked on a few bridesmaids, someone would have heard the specifics about him being a guy heading to college soon, rather than a girl starting middle school in the fall. “Well, nothing wrong with tomboy life,” Eliza said, “I have a couple friends who rock short hair and reject the whole feminine fashion thing. They’re probably saving a fortune on shopping and haircuts!” “True,” Sophie laughed along with her, “Well, Samantha let one of her friends play dress-up with her and ended up liking pink more than she thought she would. And now she wants to at least try long hair again. Worst case, she can just chop it off if it’s a pain.” “Makes sense.” Eliza gave Sam a smile. “It never hurts to try a new style. And, for what it’s worth, pink is a great color on blondes.” “That’s what I was telling her,” Sophie said, “We may be step-sisters, but we look enough alike that I can give her advice on stuff like that. Oh, thank you!” She took the fresh glass of wine from Mary, “Something you can look forward to, Sammie. Mom let me have my first glass when I was fifteen.” “Lucky you,” Mary sighed, “My parents were always so weird about alcohol. How old are you, Samantha? Or do you prefer Sammie?” Sophie jumped in, making sure he was given the most feminine option. “She prefers Samantha. ‘Sammie’ is more of a family thing. Oops, sorry. Mary was talking to you, sis. Go ahead!” Sam was still reeling from the false narrative Sophie was casually spinning to the bridesmaids. This was obviously what Sophie had been planning upstairs, with all the ‘little sister’ references. Had Michelle and Fiona agreed to this? He hadn’t seen them since trying on the flower girl dress, but Sophie could have talked to them when he was in the shower. With the two older girls now looking at him, he lightly flushed and prayed that his girl voice would be believable. “Twelve. Umm, I’m twelve years old.” He still wasn’t sure which part was more more humiliating–that he could pass as a girl, or that he could pass as a tween. Neither were ideal for a young adult guy who was already self conscious about his size. “I remember those years,” Eliza said, “Good times. I wasn’t awkward or anything!” “Uh huh. Which phase should we talk about first?” Mary smirked. “Oh, you two knew each other back then?” Sophie asked. The conversation evolved in the way it normally did when it came to age differences. Though Sophie was still in high school, she could still connect with girls Fiona’s age that had recently graduated college. Meanwhile, Sam awkwardly stood in the circle they had created, only contributing when he was prompted by someone else. Not that he minded. His tween girl voice was far from natural, when he had only had a short amount of time to practice it. He still didn’t know why he was downstairs in the first place. To him, it made way more sense to hide away in his room and play video games until the wedding. That way, he could minimize interactions that could blow his cover, and avoid the embarrassment of walking around in a dress when he was actually a boy. Now that he was the bride’s ‘little sister,’ however, being antisocial on her big weekend wouldn’t be a good look. Instead, he was stuck being the odd girl out; everyone but himself and Sophie were young adults, many of whom had already met. After what felt like forever, Mary and Eliza roamed off to catch up with some of the other bridesmaids. Not wanting Sophie to take the lead and drag him into yet another situation where he was perceived as her sister, he made a beeline for Michelle. His step-mother was preparing an appetizer on the other side of the kitchen, which gave him a window to talk to her without needing to deal with separating her from a conversation of her own. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Sam asked, “Can we talk in private?” Michelle looked between him and Sophie, who had followed him over. “Sure. As long as we make it quick. I don’t want Fiona or her friends feeling obligated to take care of the kitchen.” She led them to an office just down the hall, closing the door just behind them for good measure. Sophie jumped in right away. “I told Sammie that she shouldn’t talk like a boy at all this weekend. Her girl voice is still a little iffy; she needs all the practice she can get.” “That’s a good idea,” Michelle nodded, “Same with her pronouns. So, is there a problem? You look the part, Samantha. I doubt anyone’s going to be able to tell that you’re not actually Mia’s age.” Sam parted his lips, this close to stating the problem in his own voice. While there was some logic behind Sophie’s insistence about talking like a twelve year old girl, he wouldn’t be taken nearly as seriously when sounding like that. At the same time, rebelling against something their mother had just affirmed would probably make her more inclined to take Sophie’s side. Huffing in frustration, he forced out the immature/girly tone. “Sophie told some girls that I’m her sister.” His step-mother seemed a little surprised, unless she was more caught off guard by the voice by anything else. Unlike Sophie, she hadn’t heard Sam talk like that before. It was probably both, as she turned to Sophie and said, “We were going to have him be a cousin.” “Going to have her be a cousin,” Sophie said, “But two of the bridesmaids are cousins. We don’t want anyone asking questions, right? No one in the wedding party has met Samantha before. If we say she’s our little sister, we can always just tell them the truth later. It won’t be as embarrassing after the fact, right?” “But some of them know that Fiona has a step-brother,” Michelle pointed out. Exactly. That was what Sam had said. And why he had gotten their mother involved. “Fiona doesn’t talk about Samantha that much,” Sophie said, then launched into the same explanation she gave the two bridesmaids. Rather than a step-brother who joined their family, I was simply a girl who was a bit of a tomboy. And rather than being between Sophie and Fiona in age, I was their younger sibling. “That’s quite the stretch,” Michelle said, “But Eliza believed that?” “Mm hmm,” Sophie nodded, “Besides, I called Sammie my little sister like fifty times upstairs. She already had her chance to say something about it.” “That’s not-” Sam started to say, only to get cut off. “Sam,” Michelle curtly said, “Sophie is right about your voice. Consistency is going to be key when you’re not used to talking like that. Now, what were you saying?” At least she was still giving him a chance to defend himself. In Sam’s experience, Michelle was mostly impartial, but had a habit of siding with the girls. Potentially because of their relationship, or just the fact that Sophie in particular could be a bit manipulative. “I told her that didn’t make sense . . .” he said, not articulating their time upstairs very well when sounding so awkward. “What happens the next time there’s a wedding, or whatever?” “By the time that happens, it won’t be a big deal,” Sophie shrugged, “We tell them the truth, and it’s just a funny story. Who cares if you pretended to be a little girl? You did it to help Fiona. That’s all that matters.” “Enough,” Michelle held up her hand. Pausing to think for a moment, she said, “Sophie, that wasn’t the deal. You should have asked me about something like that before saying anything to the bridesmaids. However . . . I think it would only be more confusing if you told some of the girls one thing, then started telling the others a different story.” Sophie’s eyes briefly lit up at the implication that they were going to stick with her idea about Sam being her younger sister; she managed to shift it into a more calm expression before Michelle noticed. “Right,” she nodded, “Sorry, Sammie. I shouldn’t have made that up without checking with Mom and Fiona first.” He didn’t care about her apology. The only thing he cared about was not being teased about something like this forever by their extended family, as well as Fiona’s friends whenever he saw them. Unfortunately, the decision was being taken out of his hands. Before he could get another word out, Michelle affirmed, “Samantha, you’re going to be Fiona’s step-sister for the weekend.” ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Flower Boy" (20+ chapters) and other exclusive stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

When buying clothes you need to know what the fabric is and what fabric material you like wearing.. For instance...100% Cotton is 100% but it can come in many different forms of material forms. And those each have their own feel to them. Also general type of fabric material feel completely different than infant or even kids fabrics. Ask questions before you buy if you can. You don't need to go into detail about who will be wearing it. Just ask if the material is a fabric that would be used to make undergarments or sleep wear.