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Chapter 22 - A living nightmare “Ah here we go Babygirl… these will keep your romper dry in case your diapee springs a leak!” Flat on her back in the pram Heather had no idea what the woman was talking about until an amazon hand waving a pair of pink plastic pull on baby pants filled her field of vision. What she saw caused a sense of panic to swell up, so much that it felt like it was about to engulf her. The woman wasn’t playing a game now, this was no temporary disguise, by the tone of her voice Heather knew that the woman was deadly serious. Fear, fear of what was about to happen, fear of the unknown, fear of what lay ahead, her small body shaking as she thought about what the woman was now about to do. In her own mind she tried to reason but could not bring herself to do it.  No.. no… not plastic baby pants… the diaper was bad enough, there is no way she wanted to be wearing a pair of pull on plastic baby pants. At least the diaper was made of cotton, soft and comfortable like her panties even if they also came from the little girls section at the stores at home because she was petite, but pull on plastic pants were the ultimate instrument of babyhood, waterproof, poofy, noisy and intended to be worn by actual babies. She could hear her heart beating now as panic set in, it felt like it was trying to jump out of her chest.  Fear she knew from her short time on a college physiology course before dropping out is a fundamental, instinctive human emotion. It was triggered by perceived danger, it caused intense physical and psychological reactions designed for self protection. It initiated the fight, flight or freeze response with the brain's amygdala releasing adrenaline and cortisol to prepare the body for immediate action. While essential for survival, excessive fear can manifest quickly, like now when have a powerful amazon hand grabbed her left foot and threaded it though the waist and left side leg hole of the plastic pants tears filled her eyes as she tried to wriggle away as the physical reactions became obvious. Her heart rate and blood pressure had increased, her breathing was now rapid breathing and tension had taken over her muscles. She knew the purpose of these reactions was to deliver a survival mechanism while highlighting the immediate threat to her safety. But was she being rational? Was there actual danger or was she being irrational, her mind playing tricks on her by dredging up her own phobia of being back in a diaper again after having to wear them for almost twice as long as her childhood friends because she had been a late potty trainer? Was that because her body had taken longer to mature, or was it because her own Mom, Auntie, older cousins and babysitters had simply enjoyed keeping her as a baby for as long as possible because she had been the youngest and smallest? In an attempt to rationalise her fear of the woman, fear of the unknown, and fear of her own inaction she tried to control it, relaxing her breathing and muscles. Cognitively she tried to justify it, fear she knew could be temporary or chronic, often stemming from past experiences or imagined scenarios. Was it real or did it stem from her past experiences, did she really need to worry about it? One thing was clear to her now, it was very real, laying on her back in a baby pram designed for an amazon baby she was unable to wriggle away from the woman who had pulled the waterproof pink plastic baby pants over her left foot and was now about to do the same with her other foot. Tears ran down her cheeks as the reality of her situation stuck home, There was nothing imagined about it, her fear stemmed from past experiences, she knew that once the baby pants covered her diaper that they would not be coming off until her diaper needed changing, wet or dirty that didn’t matter, either way it was up-to her, she wasn’t imagining it and her past experiences flooding back into her mind like a dam bursting. Crying out for all her life was worth, “Haaap… huuupp maa… naaoooo…. Haaappppmaaa…” it was she quickly realised a pointless exercise, her cries for help and protestations muffled by the pacifier that for all intends and purposes was acting as a silencer.  “Such a wriggly baby…. Yes you are… yes you are…” Diane chuckled as she threaded the girl’s right leg through the waist and right leg hole in the waterproof baby pants then tugged them up her skinny legs and over the soft cotton diaper that was snugly pinned around her bottom and hips. The petite little tourist had been way too trusting. Listening to her own daughter at the Burger Lion in La Enfantane had been her first mistake, letting herself be disguised as a baby to get past the Police roadblock had been a gross error of judgement and now she was paying the price of that ill thought out decision. Heather knew she was in deep trouble when the woman she had trusted at the Burger Lion in La Enfantane let go of the elastic waistband of the waterproof baby pants and it snapped back around her waist like a rubber band around a wad of bills. She was mortified, baby pants, pink, crinkly waterproof plastic baby pants. She was now not only back in a washable cotton diaper for the first time she finally becoming dry at night as a grade school kid, she was wearing a washable diaper and a pair of plastic pull on baby pants intended for an amazon baby. Every little movement she made caused the soft pink plastic baby pants to rustle loudly reminding her of the gravity of the mistakes she had made. “These baby pants are a perfect fit for you little Heather, pink suits you, they will also keep your pram mattress clean and dry for Mommy when you soak your diapees or have a blowout.”  WTF… she wasn’t going go soak her diapees or have a blowout, that had been only to get past the cops, “naaaooo….. naaaooo…” Heather tried to say but her speech was still inhibited by the neuromuscular blockers that Diane had added to the medicating pacifier.  Securing the girl in the pram harness on her back Diane checked her watch, “Two pm, time is flying by Becky, we need to get a homecoming outfit for your baby sister, some phots of you both then hit the road to get home before dark”. The next thirty minutes for Heather were a blur, being pushed around in a baby pram on her back all she could see were the Amazons, more than she cared go see with the occasional one commenting on how cute her Babygirl was. Zoned out she lay on her back on her back in yet another store, racks of kids and baby clothes surrounding the pram as if they were seeking her unconditional surrender. After what seemed lime an eternity but in reality was no more than thirty minutes the woman who at lunchtime had looked like her saviour was now doing everything in her power to try and convince Heather that she was now her baby.  “Look what Mommy is going to buy for baby,” she announced with way too much enthusiasm.   It was what Diane now held over the pram bassinet that brought Heather back to the reality she was facing. Terra, why had she ever come to Terra? It had been a mistake, a massive mistake by a rookie dimensional traveller and now she was paying the price of her foolishness. She could see the outfit in all its glory, and that almost caused her to puke. The Amazon had taken a white satin broderie anglaise infant dress, it came with a matching white satin plastic lined diaper cover trimmed with pink lace, white woollen booties, mittens and a white pacifier with a pink ring handle.  As the offending objects filled Heather’s  field of vision the events of the last 24 hours played back in her mind like a video tape being rewound. She had a clear view of what the woman was about to purchase and panicked. It was the exact same outfit that she had seen the petite girl wearing who was laying on her back safely harnessed in a pram in the hotel foyer that morning. She had watched the girl and her boyfriend have an argument when they got off the bus before they had stormed off in different directions. It seemed at first that they would be OK, then their world had been tipped on its head. The pink and blue buses were the the same as those that had delivered her tour group from the portal station to the hotel and the Tour Group had been like her own, mostly young and behaving like excitable teenagers. One couple who looked like girlfriend and boyfriend were arguing, perhaps not in agreement with what they had seem so far, the young man, backpack on his shoulders waving his hands in the air before storming off on his own in the opposite direction away from the buses and the hotel. While that played out she saw Stacy, her own tour guide walk over to the petite college age girl and console her while her boyfriend, half a block away now, seemed to be undecided until an Amazonian couple simply walked up to him on either side, each taking one of his hands then leading him into the adjacent Police Station. Refocussing on the carpark she had continued to observe as the Tour Guide had taken the petite girl away from the group, behind the bus out of sight of the rest of the party who were now walking towards the hotel. That was when she noticed an obese woman with an empty pram approach the Tour Guide, engage in a brief discussion then hand over a thick brown envelope that looked very suspicious. When Stacy shoved the petite little forward into the woman’s arms she was lifted off the ground and held in a bear hug. In a struggle the girl had tried to break free as her yoga pants were tugged down by the Tour Guide and her bottom stabbed with what looked like an epipen. Less than a minute later with the girl subdued her shoes and pants were removed and tossed into a nearby dumpster. Naked apart from a skimpy pink crop top the obese woman turned around and transferred the girl into the bassinet of a large older style lay flat pram. What surprised Heather the most was that the girl easily fit with room to spare. What the fuck was going on down there she had wondered as the woman retrieved clothing from the large bag that sat in the parcel tray under the pram bassinet. She had missed the next bit when Ivy had come into the room and distracted her observations, when she had turned back toward the carpark the obese woman was now pushing the pram toward the hotel lobby. What she had seen unfold and what she now saw inside the pram had frightened her. The young girl, a petite freshman, lay on her tummy in the pram subdued. Drugged perhaps. Her crop top had been discarded and replaced with a white lace sundress more suited a newborn, her bottom bulged with what looked like a well padded white cotton diaper that pushed her skinny legs apart. To top that off the diaper had been covered with pink panties… not cotton panties…. not even bloomers or witches britches as her own Mom used to call them… pants that bulged and were puffy… pants with elastic gathers around the waistband and legs… then it clicked… she knew what they were… baby pants… waterproof baby pants… waterproof pink plastic baby pants… the same baby pants that her own Mom had used on her when she was younger. It was only then that she came to the point of realising just how fucked up this place was, a college girl had been taken in broad daylight and turned into a baby no questions asked. Well the girl wouldn’t be asking any questions she had determined because when it seemed like the woman had forgotten something she retrieving a pacifier from the large diaper bag in the parcel tray of the pram and plugged the girl to keep her quiet. It had been traumatic, she had seen first hand how easy it had been for the obese woman to take the girl and regress her back to babyhood. Now she was in a similar situation, diapered, her diaper covered with plastic baby pants and the woman now wanting to put her in the same infant styled white satin baby dress, matching mittens and lambswool baby booties that she had seen the girl wearing. That vision didn’t frighten her… it terrified her… if there was any doubt about it the warm feeling now slowing creeping around her bottom confirmed that her bladder had betrayed her, she was now wearing her second wet diaper of the afternoon.  Pushing the pram up-to the sales counters Diane fawned over the petite little that now lay on her back in its bassinet. As the girl involuntarily kicked her legs and wriggled in an attempt to escape there was no doubt in Diane’s mind that the girl would be seriously concerned how the afternoon was panning out. The pink pull-on plastic baby pants that covered her diaper were now a much darker shade of pink in the crotch, it would be obvious to an Mom or an experienced babysitter what had happened. While Heather was yet to realise it Diane knew better, the girl had wet the first of many soft cotton baby diapers to come, she was back in diapers and would be wearing them for the foreseeable future. 

Chapter 10 James comes to slowly, blinking against the soft afternoon light spilling through the curtains. His head feels heavy, like he’s been underwater. The Nappy under his clothes feels unfamiliar again — too warm, too present, too much. He shifts slightly, and the sensation makes his stomach twist. A soft voice breaks the fog. “James?” Louise was sitting on the edge of the sofa, watching him with that mixture of worry and determination she’s worn all day. She leans forward, brushing a hand lightly against his arm. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?” James swallows, throat tight. “I… I don’t know. Everything feels weird. And this—” he gestures vaguely at his clothes “—this Nappy feels strange. I don’t like it.” Louise nods slowly, not dismissing him. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. That’s your emotional check‑in, alright? You’re uncomfortable. You’re overwhelmed.” He nods, eyes stinging. “And,” he adds quietly, “I don’t like the idea of Emma helping. It feels… embarrassing.” Louise exhales, rubbing her forehead. “James… I get that. I really do. But I’m being honest with you — I can’t do this alone. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I don’t know the signs, or the routines, or how to keep you grounded when you’re spiralling.” Her voice softens, but her resolve doesn’t. “Emma does. She’s already living in that rhythm with her baby. She knows how to keep things calm and predictable. And she’s willing to help us.” James looks away. “But I don’t want her to see me like this.” Louise gently lifts his chin so he meets her eyes. “Tough luck, love,” she says softly but firmly. “I need help. And you need support. Emma’s gone home to pack her things — for her and the baby — and she’ll be back soon. This is happening because we’re not letting you drown anymore. If you dont like it then simply go out that door” James’s breath shudders. He nods, even though the knot in his chest tightens. Louise squeezes his hand. “We’re doing this together. All three of us, It would be good as well for you having Emma's Baby Jessica with you as you can copy her” Before he can respond, a knock echoes through the house. Three soft taps. Measured. Calm. Louise freezes. “Who… is that?” James’s heart jumps into his throat. Louise stands, crosses the room, and opens the door. M is standing on the doorstep. Her coat is still on, her expression composed but warm — the same steady presence she had behind the café. “Hello, Louise,” she says gently. “I wanted to check on James. I had a feeling today might be difficult.” Louise steps aside automatically, letting her in. James sits up slowly, pulse racing. M closes the door behind her, turns toward him, and offers a small, reassuring smile. “James,” she says softly, “I’m here to help. I bought a Bag of Nappies as Louise might need them” And the room goes very still. M's eyes immediately locked onto James. Even from across the room, she could tell something was off—the faint outline of a bulky nappy pressing against the denim of his jeans, and a subtle damp spot blooming near the crotch. He shifted uncomfortably, but didn't look up. M set the bag down by the coffee table and turned to Louise. 'I see he's got a wet one on already. Mind if I check it properly? Make sure he's not sitting in it too long?' Louise glanced at her husband, then back at M with a shrug. 'Sure, I guess. You was going to change is Nappies today anyways and besides Babies don't care' With Louise's nod of approval, M strode over to James. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder and gently but insistently pushed him back until he was lying flat on the carpet, his legs kicking up slightly in surprise. 'Oh, wittle Jimmy's got a soggy botty, hasn't he?' M cooed in that soft, playful baby talk she knew he secretly craved. Her voice dripped with exaggerated affection as she knelt beside him. 'Let's see how wet our big baby boy is, hmm? Mama M's gonna make it all better.' James's cheeks flushed pink, but he didn't resist as M's fingers hooked into the waistband of his jeans. She tugged them down his thighs in one smooth pull, exposing the sodden nappy clinging to his skin. The front was swollen and discoloured from the urine, the tapes strained against the weight. M pressed her palm flat against the padding, feeling the warmth and squish beneath. 'Aww, listen to that! So squelchy and full. Poor wittle man, you've made such a big puddle in your Nappy.' She worked quickly, her hands efficient from practice. The tapes ripped open with a sharp Velcro sound—left side first, then right—unfolding the nappy like unwrapping a present. James's cock lay exposed, semi-hard from the humiliation and attention, nestled against the damp padding. M wiped him clean with baby wipes from her bag, the cool cloth gliding over his skin, circling the head of his dick before moving down to his balls and the crease of his ass. 'There we go, all nice and dry now. No more icky wet feelings for Jimmy.' Louise stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, watching the whole thing unfold. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and quiet amusement as M sprinkled powder over James's groin, rubbing it in with gentle pats that made his hips twitch. She lifted his legs like an infant's, sliding a fresh nappy underneath—thick and crinkly, with cute animal prints—and pulled the front up snug between his thighs. The tapes sealed it tight, locking him back into that padded security. 'All done! Doesn't that feel so much better?' M said, giving the front of the nappy a playful tap. James nodded mutely, his face still burning. M gathered his discarded jeans and set them aside on the armchair. 'No pants for now, baby. You stay right there and play with Jessica old toys. Look, there's the blocks and that fun truck she left behind.' James sat up slowly, the fresh nappy rustling loudly as he scooted over to the pile of colourful toys scattered near the TV. He picked up a wooden block, stacking it clumsily, his bare legs folded under him while the nappy puffed out around his waist. M straightened up and dusted her hands, then joined Louise on the sofa. Louise had already poured two steaming cups of tea from the pot on the side table, handing one to M with a little laugh. 'That was... thorough. He seems calmer already.' M sipped her tea, settling back into the cushions as they watched James build his little tower, the room filled with the soft sounds of play and the faint scent of baby powder. 'He's in good hands with you,' M replied, her tone light and knowing. The front door clicked open again, and Emma breezed in, her arms cradling little Jessica, who gurgled softly against her shoulder. Emma's eyes scanned the room, landing first on Louise and then M, Then dropping to the floor where James sat cross-legged in nothing but his thick, crinkly nappy. The padding hugged his hips snugly, as he stacked blocks with unsteady hands. He froze mid-motion, his face draining of color, and scrambled to pull his knees up, trying to shield himself behind the toy truck. His arms wrapped around his bare chest, but the nappy's bulk made it impossible to hide completely—it puffed out between his thighs like a beacon. "Hi, everyone," Emma said brightly, kicking the door shut with her heel. She shifted Jessica to one hip and extended her free hand to M.  "I'm Emma—nice to meet you." M rose from the sofa, shaking Emma's hand firmly while eyeing the baby with a smile. "yYeah. Heard all about you and this little one. She's adorable." Louise waved from her seat, sipping her tea. "Emma's just in time. We were chatting about James here." James's cheeks burned hotter as Emma's gaze settled on him fully. He ducked his head, fingers digging into the carpet, but Emma just chuckled and knelt down, gently lowering Jessica onto a soft blanket nearby. The six-month-old baby cooed and kicked her tiny legs, dressed in a onesie and her own diapered bottom. Emma patted the spot right next to her daughter. "Come on, James. Sit by Jessica. Copy what she does—look how she's playing with her rattle. You can do that too, can't you?" He hesitated, glancing up at the women with wide eyes, but Emma's expectant look left no room for argument. Slowly, he scooted over, the nappy crinkling loudly with each shift, until he mirrored Jessica's position on the blanket. His larger frame dwarfed the baby, but he picked up a nearby rattle, shaking it awkwardly in his fist, the plastic clacking against his palm. Jessica reached out a chubby hand toward him, babbling, and James forced a small, humiliated smile, his cock twitching faintly inside the dry padding from the sheer exposure. The three women settled back, Emma joining M and Louise on the sofa after grabbing a quick cup of tea. "So, treating him like a proper six-month-old, huh?" Emma said, crossing her legs. "Jessica's exactly that age, and she'll be staying here with us for a bit while I sort some things out. Might as well sync them up—same routine, same care. Nappies, bottles, playtime. Keeps everything simple." M nodded enthusiastically, pulling out her phone. "Exactly. No half-measures. Look at this site I use—tons of options for bigger sizes." She angled the screen toward Louise and Emma, scrolling through pages of thick adult nappies in pastel prints, complete with wetness indicators and extra absorbency. "These ones have the cutest patterns, and they hold up for heavy wetters. Oh, and adaptable clothing—onesies that snap at the crotch for easy changes, footed sleepers, even bibs if he gets messy with food. We can order a whole bundle today." Louise leaned in, peering at the images. "Huh, those onesies look comfy. Yeah, let's get him set up proper. No more big boy clothes sneaking around." James's ears rang with their casual planning, the rattle trembling in his grip as Jessica gnawed on her own toy beside him. He felt every rustle of the nappy against his skin, the way it forced his legs apart like an infant's, while the women above him chattered on as if he were just another baby in the room. The conversation shifted seamlessly, the phone set aside as they dove into grown-up topics. "Speaking of clothes," Emma said, admiring her manicured nails, "I just got these gel extensions done—soft pink with a glitter tip. Lasts forever. What about you, M? Loving that blouse—silky, right?" M flexed her fingers, showing off her own polished nails in a deep red. "Acrylics for me. Chips less than gel. And yeah, this top's from that new boutique downtown—feels like butter on the skin. Louise, you still rocking those sheer tights under dresses? I saw you at the last get-together; they made your legs look miles long." Louise laughed, stretching out one foot to wiggle her toes in a pair of strappy heels. "Always. Fishnets for nights out, but nude sheer for everyday. Paired with a good blowout on the hair? Unbeatable. My stylist's a wizard—keeps it bouncy without the frizz." Emma ran a hand through her loose waves. "Jealous. Mine's straight as a board naturally. Been thinking of extensions for volume. And don't get me started on bras—finally found one that doesn't dig in after nursing Jessica." Their voices flowed easy and intimate, giggles punctuating talks of lace panties, hair serums, and the best salons for pedicures. James sat there on the floor, knees drawn up as much as the nappy allowed, the baby's gurgles a constant reminder of his own regression. Heat flooded his face and neck; he was naked from the waist up, padded bottom on display, listening to them bond over things so utterly adult and feminine. His cock stirred again, pressing against the soft inner lining, but he squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the rattle's shake to block out the embarrassment. And from all the conversations going on that out there is a small world and that Louise actually knows M from when she used to go clubbing. After a while, M glanced at her watch and stood, smoothing her skirt. "Hate to cut this short, ladies, but I've got to head out. Great meeting you, Emma—let's do this again soon." She turned toward James, crouching down beside him with that familiar, sing-song tone. "Time for M to say bye-bye to her wittle Jimmy. Let's just check that Nappy one more time, hmm? Arms up, baby boy." James lifted his arms obediently, letting her pat the front of the nappy firmly. Her fingers pressed in, testing the padding's dryness, then slid around to squeeze the back and pulling it out slightly having a peek in. "Aww, still all dry and comfy! Good job, keeping that botty nice and clean. Mama's so proud." She planted a quick kiss on his forehead, ruffling his hair like a toddler's. Emma watched with a grin, scooping Jessica up briefly for a quick Nappy check as well before setting her back down. She laughed outright at M's baby talk. "We'll see how long that lasts. It's bottle time now—both of them. Won't be dry for long with a full tummy." M waved as she grabbed her bag, slipping out the door with a final "Take care!" The room settled into a new rhythm, James's rattle joining Jessica's as the women prepared the bottles, his world shrinking further into padded infancy. Emma stood up from the sofa, brushing her hands on her jeans before heading toward the kitchen with purposeful strides. 'Come on, Louise—let's get these bottles ready. It's easy once you get the hang of it.' Louise followed, casting a quick glance at James on the floor, where he still shook the rattle half-heartedly beside Jessica's kicking form. The baby's tiny fists waved in the air, oblivious to the tension humming through James's body. In the kitchen, Emma pulled out a tin of formula powder from the diaper bag slung over a chair. She measured the scoops into a sterile bottle, her movements efficient and practiced. 'Okay, start with 7 ounces of water—room temp works fine, but we'll warm it up. Fill the bottle to the line, then add the powder. Shake it good, no lumps.' Louise mirrored her, hands a bit unsteady as she poured the water and scooped the powder, shaking the bottle until the mix turned smooth and creamy. 'Now, testing the temp,' Emma said, demonstrating by dribbling a drop onto her inner wrist. 'Should feel warm, like the back of your hand—not hot enough to burn, not cold enough to shock. See? Perfect for little tummies.' Louise tested hers the same way, nodding with a small smile. 'Got it. Feels right.' They capped the bottles, and Emma led the way back to the living room, bottles in hand. Jessica perked up at the sight of her mother, letting out a soft whine as Emma scooped her up and settled into the rocking chair. 'Watch this part—support her head like so, under the neck, and tilt the bottle just enough so the nipple's full of milk, no air.' Louise knelt beside them, observing closely as Jessica latched on eagerly, her small mouth working the nipple with rhythmic sucks. Milk dribbled slightly from the corner of her lips, and Emma wiped it away with a soft cloth. 'Keep her upright a bit to avoid gas—burp her halfway through. You're a natural; she'll take to you quick.' Louise's eyes softened, reaching out to stroke Jessica's cheek as the baby drank contentedly. With Jessica settled, Emma's attention shifted to James. He sat frozen on the blanket, the rattle forgotten in his lap, his nappy crinkling faintly as he shifted uncomfortably. She set her bottle aside for a moment and approached him, her shadow falling over his upturned face. 'Your turn, baby boy. Time for num-nums.' Before he could react, she placed one hand on his shoulder and pushed gently but firmly, easing him back onto the blanket until he reclined at a shallow angle. Her other hand cradled the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair to support it, preventing it from lolling fully to the side like an infant's might. James's heart pounded, his bare chest heaving as he stared up at her. 'Open wide for Aunty Emma,' she cooed in that high-pitched baby talk, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. She pressed the bottle's nipple against his lips, the rubber tip warm and insistent. He parted his mouth instinctively, but as the first taste of the sweet, milky formula hit his tongue, a strange bitterness lingered underneath—something off, unnatural. His eyes widened, and he jerked his head back, trying to twist away, the nappy bunching under him as his legs kicked feebly. Emma's grip tightened immediately, her fingers digging into his scalp just enough to hold him steady. 'Oh no you don't, wittle one. Babies drink their bottie all up, don't they? No fussing—suck it down like a good boy.' She forced the nipple deeper, angling the bottle so the flow started steady, milk flooding his mouth. He gagged at first, the flavour coating his throat, but her unyielding hold left him no choice. He swallowed reflexively, the liquid sliding down in warm gulps, his cheeks hollowing as he suckled against his will. From his low vantage, James looked up into Emma's face, her eyes locked on his with a predatory gleam. Her lips curled into an evil grin, teeth flashing white as she turned her head slightly toward Louise. 'Hey, Louise—I might've added something special to his bottles. Just a little extra to help him relax into this, you know? Make him our perfect little baby for the night.' James's eyes bulged, panic surging through him as another swallow forced its way down. The formula pooled in his belly, heavy and insidious, while Jessica's contented slurps echoed nearby. He tried to protest around the nipple, but it came out as muffled whimpers.  

I'd think that too. Even irl living full on AB lifestyle would, for me at least, get boring quick. I think it seem fun, but then the realization of "oh, I'm going to be 90 years old and this is all I've done" would get to me. So fair point lol LOL thanks. I guess its sort of a compliment, in a way

I like to have a gummy or 2 and wear.  It really enhances the feeling.  And I dont need to get up if I don't want to. 

Made using Grok AI. Potty and Pull-Ups and twins? Oh my! New parts posted every Friday Part Three Sarah led Paige into the café's restroom, her grip firm but gentle on Paige's hand. The room was clean and bright, with a few stalls and a changing table folded against the wall—clearly family-friendly. Sarah didn't let go, guiding Paige straight into the largest stall and closing the door behind them. "Okay, sweetie, let's get you taken care of," Sarah said cheerfully, standing right there as if it was no big deal. Paige's face burned with embarrassment. She was used to handling things on her own, but with Sarah watching, she had no privacy. The urge was too strong to argue, though. Despite how demeaning it felt—like she was truly a little kid—Paige pulled down her childish panties and sat on the toilet. But as she did, a small accident happened—a tiny spurt escaped before she could fully control it, wetting the panties slightly. Mortified, she finished using the potty with Sarah right there, humming softly and looking away just a bit, but not leaving. The sound echoed in the small space, making Paige wish the floor would swallow her up. When she was done, she reached for some toilet paper and wiped herself quickly, then went to pull the panties back up. Sarah's eyes narrowed as she glanced down, noticing the damp spot. "Hold on a second, Paige—where are your Pull-Ups?" she asked point blank, her tone shifting to one of concern mixed with authority. Paige froze, her hands on the waistband of the panties. Pull-Ups? She had no idea the flower girl still wore them—how could she? Her mind raced for an answer, but nothing good came out. "Uh... I... forgot them?" she stammered, her voice small and uncertain. Sarah sighed, shaking her head. "That's not acceptable, young lady. It's a good thing your mom warned me—you hate wearing your Pull-Ups even though you need them for accidents." Before Paige could protest, Sarah scooped her up effortlessly and carried her out of the stall, unfolding the changing table and placing her on it. Paige's legs dangled off the edge, her dress hiked up, exposing her bare bottom. She squirmed, but Sarah held her steady with one hand while rummaging in her own purse with the other. From the purse, Sarah pulled out two Pull-Ups: a small one with bright Minnie Mouse designs, clearly for toddlers, and a larger one with Disney Princess patterns, sized for older kids. Paige blushed even deeper, her eyes widening at the sight. Desperate to seem older, she reached for the bigger one, her fingers brushing it. "That one... please?" Sarah chuckled and put the larger one back in her purse. "Oh no, sweetie, that one's way too big for you. This Minnie one will fit just right." Paige had to suffer through the whole process: Sarah gently but firmly wiping her butt with baby wipes from the purse, making sure she was clean, then sprinkling baby powder that smelled sweet and infantile. The powder puffed up in a little cloud, tickling Paige's nose. Finally, Sarah lifted Paige's legs, sliding them into the training pants and pulling the Pull-Up up snugly. It crinkled softly, the Minnie Mouse smiling up from the front, and it felt thick and padded between her legs—reminding her all too much of past humiliations. Sarah helped Paige down from the changing table, adjusting her dress. "There we go, all better. But listen up—if I catch you out of your Pull-Ups again, I have permission from your mom to use diapers instead. Got it?" The mere mention of diapers sent a shiver through Paige. Her mind flashed back to that awful day at the daycare: stuck in the playpen, the thick diaper crinkling with every move, desperately holding her bladder at first but eventually having a full accident because she couldn't get to the bathroom and the staff ignored her pleas. The warm wetness had spread, soaking the diaper, leaving her in tears of shame until the purse was found. The memory made her clench now, vowing silently not to let that happen again. Sarah took Paige's hand once more and led her back to the table, where the desserts had arrived. "All good now," Sarah announced casually, helping Paige back into the booster seat. Paige was allowed to enjoy her ice cream sundae, spooning up the cold treat with relief that the bathroom ordeal was over—for now. But she noticed Sarah and Lisa leaning close, whispering between each other, glancing her way with knowing smiles. Paige couldn't hear what they said, but it made her stomach twist; were they talking about her "Pull-Ups"? Lunch wrapped up soon after, and the group headed out to the bridal shop to look at the dresses Emily had picked out for everyone. Paige trailed behind, her new Pull-Up crinkling faintly with each step, a constant reminder of her predicament. She hoped desperately that the flower girl dress wouldn't fit her—maybe it would be too small or something, forcing them to realize their mistake. At the shop, the attendant brought out the dresses: elegant pastels for the bridesmaids and a frilly, white flower girl outfit adorned with delicate satin ribbons tied into bows at the waist and shoulders, intricate lace trimmings edging the hem and puffed sleeves, a full tulle skirt that puffed out in layers for a whimsical twirl, and a fitted bodice with subtle pearl bead accents that shimmered under the lights. Emily ushered Paige into a fitting room first, excited to see "her flower girl" in it. Paige slipped into the dress, but her wish came true in the worst way—it was too big on her. The hem dragged on the floor, the bodice gaped loosely around her flat chest, and the sleeves hung past her hands. She looked even tinier, like a toddler playing dress-up in her big sister's clothes. Stepping out to show Emily, Paige tugged at the fabric. "See? It doesn't fit," she said, hoping this would finally click for them. Just then, the shop door chimed, and in walked the real Paige—the one supposed to be the flower girl. She was a spitting image of adult Paige: same round face, wide eyes, and petite build, like they could be twins. But this girl was four feet tall, 14 years old, with a purse slung over her shoulder and a figure that included breasts noticeably larger than adult Paige's barely-there A cups—perhaps full B cups that filled out her shirt in a way that made her look more developed despite her youth. "Sorry I'm late!" she called, waving shyly. Emily turned, her eyes flicking between the two Paiges, but the similarity was so striking that no one immediately questioned it—perhaps assuming it was a coincidence or not piecing it together yet. Adult Paige stood there in the oversized dress, her heart pounding, as the group welcomed the newcomer without realizing the mix-up.