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Try 1 mile on coast of great lakes "lake effect snow":kept me house bound for 2 months . -
By Kitty Angel · Posted
69. My New Start On Saturday morning, I was waiting eagerly to see how Tess would feel when she woke. Would she stop fighting me and accept that she loved being a baby? Would she feel some irrational guilt about enjoying it and snap back to pretending she was an adult? I had no idea how she would feel, and that had me on edge. But perhaps the most worrying thing would be the realisation of how many accidents she had over the last few days. Each time I said the trigger phrase, it had seemed like a natural thing to say in that moment. But now I thought back over it, I realised that she’d wet herself four times in a little over twenty-four hours. On the bus to school, after coming home, while she was sleeping, and again when she woke in the morning. To someone who was finally getting used to waking up wet two or three times in a week, and had only wet herself during the day a handful of times, that sudden increase could have been something to worry about. I promised myself that I would dial it back a bit. She had just had an intense experience, feeling what it was like to sink completely into her baby headspace. She might have been there before, but when it was her own choice I was sure she would be a little more receptive to the hypnotic suggestions. I really didn’t want her to associate that with her loss of bladder control, especially on a subconscious level where it could make her more reluctant to try it again. So I made a plan, and decided that I would stick to it at least until the end of the year. If Tess acted like a good little, I would praise her and reward her with anything I could think of to keep her happy. I would keep a pacifier close to hand, and offer it as a treat if she seemed eager to regress. Every moment would be filled with praise, I would do everything for her, and I would be so proud of anything she attempted to do herself regardless of the outcome. If she acted like a normal child her age, however, I would react in kind. I would keep talking to her the same way I always had. And if she was hostile, doing things like refusing a pacifier or claiming not to be a baby, I would take that as a sign that she needed help to realise how little she was. That was the only situation in which she would have an accident this year: when she claimed to be an adult. Whether she noticed the pattern or not, I thought that would make her just a little more nervous about fighting who she really was. Breakfast was already cooking when I heard her moving about on the landing, so I quickly finished up one portion and slid a couple of waffles onto her plate. I saw as soon as I turned around that she had taken a little step back after last night’s fun. Her hair was back to its previous messy bun, and she was dressed in jeans and a shapeless grey hoodie. Warm clothes, but not so pretty as what she’d been wearing the day before. “Good morning, baby,” I greeted her, and waited to see her response. “Morning. That smells good.” She didn’t seem to mind, and that made me a lot more confident. If she meant what she’d said about admitting she was a baby, she would learn to get into her headspace more quickly and easily, and then I wouldn’t need to keep worrying about things that might bother her. I needed to work on her trust, and everything else would follow easily. “Thanks. Seeing your friends today?” “Don’t know,” she gave a half shrug. “Haven’t talked to anybody yet. It’s weird so close to the holidays. Families putting up decorations, some got them up already. People going away, or having relatives visit. I’ll probably head into town, see if I bump into anybody. But no real plans.” “Must be tough,” I said. “When I was a little kid, all my friends were on the same street. Could go round, see them playing in the garden, and there’d always be somebody free. I guess that’s a downside of all your friends being in another town.” That wasn’t entirely true; not one hundred percent. But it was close enough, and I figured that a little information about my own childhood could help Tess to open up more. “Yeah. And I can’t invite friends round if I wanted to, because my room’s still…” She shook her head. “I hardly think about it now. I decided when I moved in that I’d wait for it to be redecorated, because I’d be ashamed for anyone else to see it. Now it almost seems normal, just because it’s where I wake up every day.” “It’s amazing what you can get used to. And times like last night, I bet it helped you feel so much safer. A reminder how small you are.” “Yeah, I guess it does,” she punctuated her words with a nervous nod, and I was cheering on the inside. “You said you were going to get your friend to help redecorate. I was waiting and then I might have forgotten. Did you…” I almost cursed. I’d promised that I would help to redecorate. I’d known that she would get used to the decor if I put it off, and sooner or later she would stop thinking about it and just accept it. But now she knew that I’d spent good money on the nursery, I’d assumed she would put that behind her. What I hadn’t counted for was that she now knew I’d lied about contacting Malcolm. But I was sure I could find a way to spin this without destroying her trust. “I should probably ask him again,” I tried. “He’s the best at what he does, but not so organised.” “You’re willing to sacrifice your…” She paused, nervous. “I don’t know what to call it. Baby room? I guess if you were trying to keep it secret, but now I know, it seems kind of selfish for me to ask you…” “Don’t worry about it,” I told her, but hoping that she would talk herself into changing her mind. That would prove more than ever that she really wanted to be a baby. “I got that room hoping I would have a cute baby girl to take care of. It means a lot to me, but a child who’s actually here is more important. While you’re under my roof, your happiness is my top priority. Decor can always change.” “No, I can’t,” she said. “You’ve invested so much in that room. It must have taken you months to make everything perfect, it seems like a labour of love. And you’re right, when I got really deep into that headspace, it helped me feel almost like I was a baby. I can’t ask you to give that up.” I nodded, and finally served up my own breakfast. Hers had half vanished while we were talking. “Are you sure?” I asked, putting all the sincerity I could muster into my voice. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “Yes. It’s a good space to use if we’re doing that kind of thing. But like… it’s not like I need to stay there.” Until I heard those last words, I had been congratulating myself. She had chosen to stay in the nursery, I thought, and that would make it easier for her to feel little even if she didn’t consciously accept it. But now what was she saying? I could only wait for her to continue, frozen with a fork halfway to my mouth. “Like… The houses around here are all four or five bedrooms, right? There’s got to be more than one spare room you could let me stay in. If there’s not enough furniture in there, I think I’ve saved up enough to cover some of that. Or Dad said he’d pay when you were talking about redecoration. Like, I know Ffrances said you were tidying up the box room, right? I assume that means there’s at least one other room in the house. You could like… put the boxes that are left on some kind of cart, wheel them into the baby room. Free up a room for me that’s less embarrassing. And if you put everything on a cart, some kind of trolley thing, then it’s easy to shift it back if you want a day of…” She was still embarrassed to say what she wanted. Well, I could understand that. “When you want to be babied,” I said with a smile, and she didn’t correct me. “That’s a great idea. Don’t worry, there’s a futon in the box room. And I think most of the junk is sorted. If you’d rather stay there, that’s fine by me. I’ll ask Ffrances and we can put some real time into getting everything sorted out while you’re away, if you want. Then you can decide what works best for you. A nursery, or a tiny room. I think there’s pros and cons. If it’s too small for you, you could still pretend when your friends come to visit.” I hoped that would be enough for her. She could stay in the nursery when we did an in-depth regression scene, and the spare room when she wanted a less-embarrassing backdrop. Whether that was to show her friends where she was living, or if she wanted to take selfies or whatever kids did these days. And the times in between, it would be her decision which room she wanted to sleep in. I’d already decided by then that if she was in the spare room, she would have an accident every night. Perhaps that would help her to decide, of her own free will, that she was more comfortable on the nights she admitted she was a baby. “Yeah,” she nodded. “After Christmas. I can’t come between you and your dreams, right? And it’s not a major problem. Heck, now I’m used to it I could probably deal with it being a bit cutesy, so long as I’ve got somewhere I can use as a safer background on cam, or to invite friends over.” She was happy. I was happy. She wanted out of the nursery, but only for the sake of keeping up appearances. She was happy to be little, if it could stay our little secret. That decision meant the world to me. I could live with that, and I was sure it wouldn’t take long for her to deduce that I was right about the connection between stress and bedwetting once she started having more wet nights in the other room. She would start off only using the nursery for occasional little sessions to please me, and build an association in her mind between that room and a baby headspace. Then she would spot that sleeping in a boxy, adult-themed room made her worry more in some way. Over a few months, I was sure, her preference would gradually shift until she was doing just what I suggested; living in the nursery, and using the spare room as a decoy when her friends came to visit. If I was lucky, she might even find that once she was making that choice herself, sleeping in the nursery was a childish enough act to help her back into littlespace every night. I was more confident than I had been at any time since she moved in. Now I wasn’t guessing about what would work; I had clear confirmation that Tess wanted to be my baby; she was suggesting things that could help me, and moving the plan along by herself. This would be so much easier now. “You really think your friends would tease you if they saw the nursery?” I asked. Changing the subject a little, but framing the question as if I was thinking about her friends not tolerating her preferences. That would make it easier for her to see the situation as us-vs-them, and to be defensive about the style of the room if anyone questioned it. “I know it’s unusual, but a good friend should try to understand. If you tell them why, and how it helps you to relax, they surely wouldn’t have a problem.” “Well, they wouldn’t say anything. But the way other people treated me, you know? I’d never be comfortable letting anyone see it, after so many people made my life hell by calling me a baby. There’s only one friend I’m sure wouldn’t laugh at me, and you already said you don’t want him around.” “I…” I mumbled, losing my train of thought. She meant that guy who was always hanging around her. She was going to tell him that she slept in a nursery and wanted to be a baby again? I wanted to tell her to spare herself the heartache; help her to understand guys like that only wanted her body, like some toy. But she would never listen to me now. And perhaps it was better that she see the harshness of the real world. It would happen sooner or later, I was sure, and it might be easier to get over the trauma if it happened when I was there to comfort her. It was a decision I couldn’t make easily; I never wanted to see my baby hurt. But this time, it might be better for her if I could take the difficult choice, to push her away from the harshness of adulthood for good. Once he showed his true colours, she would learn to trust my judgement in future. “I’m sorry,” I said. She must be able to see how conflicted I was about this. But hopefully she wouldn’t think about why. “You tried to introduce me to your friend, and I overreacted. The next time I see him, I promise I’ll be more polite. I was overprotective, he reminded me of someone, and I know it’s not fair to judge him based on that. Especially not when you trust him so deeply.” I could see her thinking, and I didn’t push her for a reply. But I hoped I’d said the right thing. I had told her that I didn’t trust him, and then deferred to her judgement. Treating her like an adult, as she demanded. It would be the young man who betrayed her trust, not me, and then she would realise she would have been better accepting what I told her. Even more important, because she had mentioned him when I asked the night before about pushing her into her headspace if she wasn’t taking care of herself properly. I needed that guy’s approval, she had said. He was the one she would trust to overrule her judgement if she was making a mistake. So if by some chance he really was the too-good-to-be-true best friend that her parents wanted, he would help me take care of her. And if not, she would surely have no objection to me helping her after he’d proved that he was just like every other man. While she went to chat with her friends online, I went back upstairs to wake my girlfriend. I wanted to know Ffrances’s opinion, and to ask again about the other little who might be joining us for a late Christmas celebration. -
By astrodiaper · Posted
Ah yes, correctional cuisine, admittedly, had my share. I suspect that's why honey buns are a high-value commodity, plus you get 3x the daily calorie recommendation with just one. Grocery run this morning. I'm thinking pizza, but I have a thing that I have to wake up early for, so I might skip the pizza and find something quicker. Maybe a honey bun. 😂 -
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By astrodiaper · Posted
I may have been seeing things, but $3.64 around town for regular. Diesel is still under $5, but it goes down the further you get to the Interstates.
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