Rainbow Diapers

Part 14 Terry’s initial suspicious attitude slowly vanished when faced with Mum’s probing. He let out a huge sigh, almost as if he had been anticipating such an inquisition but hadn’t truly prepared for it. Before long, we discovered the thoughts that had been occupying my best friend and confidante’s mind. “This is something my parents are unaware of and I want to keep it that way but, if it helps with Johnny’s situation, and that with the police, although I’d appreciate it if you can keep me out of their enquiries, here goes.” He gave a grimace – half smile, half shrug – we were about to learn an awful lot about him than I ever knew or suspected. Now before I go into what he said let me just say that I have known him for most of my life. We’ve been going to school together since kindergarten, had sleepovers, camping together and generally been around each other more often than not. Where we diverged is that he was far more sporty than me and as we’ve gotten older, his friends have gravitated in that more ‘jock’ direction. Not that he’s left me out of his life but our interests have differed and we are no longer in each other’s pockets. So, what does that mean? Well this... # “When John mentioned he wore a nappy because he was wetting the bed...” I started to interrupt his assumption but he just held up his hand and carried on. “Look, I’ve got quite a bit to say so I’d appreciate it if you listened first and then...” My best friend was being quite assertive. “Sorry.” I guiltily replied. Mum and Dad as one said, “Go on.” “When I learned of his nappy wearing I was shocked, I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not but he’s never been any good at telling lies so I had to believe him.” As one Mum and Dad again nodded in agreement. “Anyway, at first, I couldn’t help myself but to take the piss...” Terry paused, perhaps to gauge whether his pun about ‘wetting’ would land, but it was clear it hadn’t. I realised I’d never seen him quite like this before. Not long ago, we’d been messing about, acting like little kids, but now there was something different about him. At first he seemed annoyed by his reception when he arrived, but now, he was much more collected, more self-assured—dare I say it, more grown up. Still, he simply gave a slight shrug and pressed on. “I mentioned my little cousin George and remarked how much John reminded me of him. That comment got me thinking about George and, in particular, an experience from about a year or so ago. I remember it vividly: it was a wet weekend, I was upstairs in my room, getting on with homework and studying for upcoming exams, when George unexpectedly gave me one of the happiest memories I’ve ever had.” Now we were all on the edge of our seats. # “I heard a lot of childish screaming coming from the garden. I went to the window and looked down on to the nicely tended area, which was absolutely soaked with the amount of rain we’d had, er, were having. However, that hadn’t stopped my then three year old cousin from running around the sodden lawn, jumping in puddles and sliding into the muddy flower beds. He was screaming with the sheer joy of freedom – he was also only wearing his nappy, having stripped out of all his other clothes and shoes as his mother had forbidden him to go out in the rain and ruin what he was wearing. That hadn’t stopped him. His mother was trying to goad him back indoors but he was having too much fun in the pouring rain. Even on his own he’d found something that was absolutely the most pleasurable and exciting thing to do and he wasn't going to give that up easily. He charged around totally ignoring his mother’s pleas to come in; splashing and skipping, sliding and falling, his nappy was filthy and about to fall off when he was eventually grabbed by her and taken back indoors.” “Kids eh?” Dad said and we all smiled. “But what had hit me most was – here I am, inside, swotting like an idiot, not going out, not having fun and for just a few minutes my little cousin had shown what living was truly about.” There was a knowing nod from me but a less serious nod from my parents. “I was jealous, not just envious, but absolutely green with jealousy because of that ability, that total lack of worry he’d exhibited and the sheer unashamed fun he had even when he slipped in the puddles. He was on a completely different level of living than I could remember ever being myself.” Terry beamed around at all of us, his face lit up with a sort of evangelical exuberance as if he’d found the answer. # “Of course, I don’t know how but I’d all but forgotten about it until Johnny here mentioned his need to wear a nappy. That brought the entire scene flooding back because that little tyke, wearing only a nappy, had made a memory that, when feeling depressed, as occasionally I do, I desperately wanted to emulate in one way or another.” He took a breath and checked we were still all onboard, or at least listening. “Being a toddler gives you an excuse to have fun that being a teenager... or adult... doesn’t...” he looked at mum and dad to see their reaction, they just shrugged. “So, I wanted to be a kid again... for a little while anyway.” He paused for a few beats to see if there was any reaction. His expression made me think he was asking “Does that make sense to anyone but me?” “Later I could hear his childish voice talking to himself coming from the bathroom where his mum had deposited him to clean up after his garden mud bath. I trooped along and she asked me to keep an eye on him whilst she went to organise his fresh nappy or whatever. The bath was full of bubbles but he was playing with a couple of bath toys which I recognised. They were a couple of boats that I used to play with when I was a kid. Where they’d come from I had no idea.” There was a wonderful smile on Terry’s face as he continued. “Anyway, he was sat up in the tub. His head covered in bubbles and his pale wet little frame shining where mottled sunbeams coming in through the patterned bathroom window made him glow. There were still muddy smudges on his face so I knelt down next to the bath, got a sponge and started to clean him up. His childish speech, questions and total disregard about doing anything but enjoying the warm bath, the bubbles, his toys had enticed me into his world. He loved having his uncle occasionally splashing him and getting involved in his little action story regarding his boats... well... it was equally magical for me.” Terry sighed at his memory. “As I remember it... in the space of just a few extraordinary minutes my little cousin had, without any knowledge of his part in it, made a lovely stamp on my mind. That innocence, that wonder, that imagination... that absolutely wonderful play with no worries... bloody hell... it was terrific. However, all that had only been released and came flooding back after Johnny here said he had to wear a nappy because he wet his pants.” I looked on hardly believing what my friend had got from my admission of needing such a personal item. “Now those memories have recently taken root and I can hardly think of anything else.” Terry seemed to be both apologising and trying to justify himself. “Even my rather pitiful exam results didn’t seem to matter. Had I been concentrating on the wrong thing... things that didn’t matter?” # I’m not sure Mum or Dad agreed with his assessment but I could certainly latch onto his way of thinking. It hadn’t hit me the same way but there was no denying that feeling of silly, no control, no limit exuberance was somehow enhanced, and probably fed, by wearing padding. Well at least it was for me. I wanted to shout “YES YES YES” to all that Terry had said but had probably experienced it in a different way. I instinctively ran my hand over my ever present slinky protection and it calmed me; that feeling and comfort, that soft security my padding and plastic pants always gave me... whether a teen or tot. Mum had a question, “But what about the drugged dummies?” “Well,” he took a bit of time to get more of his thoughts in gear, “I wasn’t aware of what was happening at first. Johnny and me were unknowingly spaced out but it wasn’t a bad feeling. It opened our minds to possibilities, to silliness, to well, I dunno, a different way of acting, which I think was motivated by his obvious love of wearing a nappy.” He smiled in my direction. “Are you blaming me?” I asked suspiciously but already knew the answer was Yes. “Well yes. They were your dummies, your nappies and your plastic pants but, and this was what I found absolutely incredible - all that, and the drugs I s’pose, made for a wonderful, enjoyable experience. All these thoughts came to the surface and I thought – Why not – let’s have some unrestricted fun. I don’t think my parents were quite sure if this was right or not but sat nodding and taking in his observations of the event while he expanded on it a little more. “When I got home I couldn’t believe what I’d just gone through. I couldn’t explain it to myself and when Mum saw the nappy, well, I just told her the truth, like a little kid who couldn’t lie, that you’d changed me into it.” He looked at Mum, “Sorry, it just came out and I couldn’t take it back or think of a better excuse... I felt I was still only a kid.” “Well, it did take a lot of explaining to your mum... did she believe what I told her?” Mum wondered. “I think she accepted it because the alternative was just too confusing and distressing. It was the best answer to a strange situation...” “Hmmm, that’s what I thought,” Mum nodded knowing that her and Holly were still not quite on the best of terms like they used to be. # “So,” Dad said as if finally coming to some kind of conclusion, “as I’ve said, the police are still investigating but so far your name hasn’t been mentioned, mainly because I just didn’t know what your involvement was.” “I’d appreciate you keeping it that way if possible...” there was a note of pleading in his voice. “I’m not sure I can because it’s a police and a criminal matter, AND, we don’t know what effect, short or long term, the drugs have or will have. It might be best to let them know... for your own safety.” “Well please keep my name out of it for as long as possible. If it comes down to it you can say you never knew I’d had one of those dummies and I’ll back you up” “Okay, I’ll see what I can do but you have to understand that the drugs, whatever they are or whatever they do, have had a real effect on Johnny and he is our prime concern. We will not jeopardise any possible recovery...” I wanted to add my input which I hoped would be useful. “I sucked on them enthusiastically... they tasted great and the feelings I got from all that sucking felt an increased normality... if I can explain it that way.” I paused letting them know how I experienced it. “I seemed to drift into a childlike stance without being aware that was what was happening but didn’t mind... in fact... quite enjoyed it.” Terry added his own addition to the overall experience, “Can I just say that any reaction since that first time has been because it was something I wanted to do. I just wanted to repeat that Georgy moment... that lack of inhibition...” “Yes, that’s all very well,” Mum interjected, “but it’s different for John... he needs help and treatment because of occasional lapses when he really has no idea where he is or who he is for that matter. You say you’re not affected, well good, but how can we be sure, you might not even be aware of it like John here?” She pointed, I thought unnecessarily, in my direction. However, at that moment although swaddled in a nappy and feeling fine I was still thinking as a teen and not a tot and could still identify with everything that Terry had said. He insisted that he’d not been affected to the same degree because he’d been well aware of the times since the dummy he’d worn a nappy and acted like a kid had only happened when with me. He’d loved how it felt and was envious of the fact that I was so happy wearing a nappy and enjoying acting a little bit childish... he wanted that for himself. “Excuse me for saying this” Terry had a look of pleading in his eyes, “but it was like John had already found that freedom to just be a kid and enjoy... well... what being a kid offers.” The discussion lingered for a while, gradually losing momentum as it drifted into vague assurances and unconvincing nods of agreement. Eventually, the matter seemed to settle, at least for the time being, though nothing felt truly resolved. Afterwards, I took Terry back up to my room. He asked if he could have a few more disposables, which I was able to provide. I also offered him a couple of thick fabric nappies, but he hesitated; despite being tempted, he felt his mum would never let him get away with having them. I decided not to press the issue further. Nonetheless, Terry discreetly tucked the ones I gave him under his jacket before leaving. I understood his decision—things had grown a bit too intense, and he was eager to retreat to the privacy of his own home. # During the discussion, I stayed mature and felt content with both mine and Terry's views. While I knew Mum and Dad had a duty of care and their concern was understandable, I wasn't distressed by any of it and struggled to see why they worried so much. However, back in my room, and now that Terry had gone, I was checking my nappy and it was still relatively dry. Not for the first time I was staring in the mirror trying to see if I could detect any differences in my face or body; had I changed at all over the time since I started wearing all this stuff? It’s funny, I’m not a vain person (well, I didn’t think so) but I was giving myself a really good scan trying to see if anything odd had appeared. Apart from the fact that at sixteen I now constantly wore padding I could see no change. The thick nappy and plastic pants just hugging my groin was how I liked it and caressed the slinky bulge with total appreciation. I stared into my eyes as if trying to inspect my brain but got nowhere with that although it got me thinking about something Terry had said - any reaction since that first time has been because it was something I wanted to do. I just wanted to repeat that Georgy moment... that lack of inhibition... was this the same for me? Except maybe, because of the FruitiZuckers, something I’d sucked on with more than a little enthusiasm, things had been unlocked, feelings dialled up a few notches, was the drugs telling my body this is what I wanted? There was no doubt, even before the drugged dummies, when I actually thought about it like I was now, that I’d enjoyed the idea of being childish and silly as each piece of padding and clothing Dreamtime sent captivated my attention. It also seemed that that was precisely what they were designed for; to feel at ease with such reactions. Had I been just too keen, amenable to their sales-pitch or had it just stirred a subconscious, my eager and willing subconscious, my fondness for wearing a nappy, into action? # There was another thing I needed to consider, my parents. I had become more of a problem than an asset to the family and they were worried because they simply didn’t know what to do. A sixteen year old with anxiety problems and having to wear protection as a result was one thing but, a teenager who suddenly becomes a toddler, well, I could see why that was causing more than a little concern. Although I thought none of it bothered me, it was bothering them and so I needed, or someone somewhere needed, to sort it all out. We’d all hoped that the session with Doctor Laura would do the trick and although she had managed to give us part of the answer – I liked to wear nappies – there needed to be a medical explanation for the way I now react and there needed to be a solution. I can’t let mum and dad be constantly worrying about me so... even though I was fairly comfortable with the state of affairs, I knew we needed a result from the police labs who were investigating just what had gone into those drugged dummies. # Dad had said that Avril had denied knowing the recipe and I was struggling to remember an edition of Silent Witness, the forensic show, where they had to ‘back engineer’ some substance found in a dead body. On TV it only took a smart young eager boffin to trace the cause in minutes... I just hoped the police in our neighbourhood had such a person on call. “Ahem!” Dad was standing at my bedroom doorway carrying a couple of large black bin bags. “The police have returned these and, although I’m none too keen, these are things that might be useful or needed by you.” My eyes lit up because I knew precisely these were the things we’d sent to be analysed. “The experts have said there is no hidden substances in the material and as far as they are concerned Dreamtime are not involved in any conspiracy or trying to reshape people with the aid of hidden drugs. So, these are yours for when you feel the need.” He plonked them down on my bed and then sat down beside me and gave me a huge hug. “I know I don’t know what’s going on but, like I promised your mother, I promise you that we’ll get through this and I’ll do what I can to make the situation as stress-free as possible for you.” He hugged and kissed my head. “I love you son and I know that none of this is your fault. I’ve given both you and Mum a hard time but... that’s now changed... we’ll do what we have to do and take extra care when you need it.” I hugged dad back as hard as I could... I don’t know why but tears were streaming down my face. # Dad just sat holding me. I had no idea where all this emotion had suddenly come from but I loved the fact that it was Dad who was there with me. There was something strong, firm and reliable in his manly embrace and I didn’t want it to stop. I felt like I had when a little kid and needed him to ‘make things better’ when I fell off my bike or grazed my knee. There were memories that filled my head - when he’d made everything right by just being himself and making me feel safe. I loved my dad more than I ever thought and saw just how much he loved me. He patted my padding, “Are you wet?” “No Dad,” I murmured into his chest, “just happy.” He gently pulled me away and looked into my weepy eyes. “Let’s try and keep it that way shall we?” and smiled, patted my padding again and kissed my head. Hell, those electric few moments together meant such a lot. # The following day there was a development, the police called and requested that I see one of their specialist to examine me. They also wanted a more detailed account of what exactly has happened to me since I first tasted the FruitiZucker. They wanted a timeline, which was difficult for my parents to piece together because not everything that happened I’d told them about, some quite simply because I wasn’t aware of what was happening. One thing was for sure, I had regressed more often and my nappies seemed to be almost permanently soaked. With my help, and with what I could remember, we all started to piece together the last few weeks. They only wanted to know from the first taste of the drugged dummies so we were able to focus on that. I insisted that we keep Terry’s involvement out of it until we had no option... if indeed it came to that. I did my best to contribute and Mum typed up a timeline and added her own comments and observations to each date. When we’d finished it looked both comprehensive and professional. As requested she emailed it to the police and to a Dr. Thanakom Thongcharoen at a specialist unit which was based in the city about twenty miles away. We were told (not requested) to be at the clinic for an appointment by noon when tests and an examination would take place - a parent or guardian should accompany John - it said in bold letters. It didn’t mention how long I’d be there or what exactly the Doctor would be doing but at least, as far as Dad could determine, they were doing something. # It was quite a lovely summer’s morning when we set off to the Specialist Unit. Mum had got me ready after a thorough showering and made sure all areas were anointed with lotion and sprinkled with pleasantly fragrant talc. My thick disposable had an extra soaker pad included and the tight blue plastic pants held it all together. I wore my favourite dark blue corduroy shorts and a pale blue zippered sweatshirt over the pink and blue striped polo shirt... I thought I looked pretty cool. I can’t pretend I wasn’t a bit apprehensive because I was venturing into the unknown but Mum was with me and I knew nothing would happen without her say so. Dad had said he’d take a day off from work to come and join us but it seemed a bit of an extravagance having both my parents there. He eventually gave in under the express proviso Mum kept him totally informed. I phoned Terry the night before and told him what was happening and he wished me luck but added, “I hope they don’t change you.” I have to say that hit my heart a bit... it was such a nice caring thing to say. It was only later that night that I thought about it and wondered if it was simply because he wanted me to stay a kiddie playmate for him. Eventually, I dismissed that particular way of thinking and settled on he was being nice. The ‘Specialist Unit’ was actually a modern wing – The Blair Wing – of the city’s main, but old hospital. The reception was all shiny and new with a very professional feel. There was artwork on the walls and soft music playing in the foyer, the receptionist, was a pleasant middle-aged lady who greeted us with a smile and efficiently took our details. After scanning her computer for a few seconds she beamed back, “Ah yes, Dr Thana is on the second floor. If you’d like to take the lift and you’ll see his surgery on the right hand side.” She smiled and pointed to the lifts further down the lobby and we made our way to the Doctor’s office glad that we’d made some effort to dress for this occasion. Everything about this place was definitely ‘private’ and not ‘NHS’ judging by the other elegant patrons/patients we passed on our short journey. # According to the plaque outside his door Dr. Thanakom Thongcharoen had a host of letters after his name, none of which either me or Mum knew what they meant. Doctor Thana, as he introduced himself, was a small, tight, Thai man with impeccable manners and a wonderful easy-going, if slightly accented speech pattern. I liked him straight away. He looked at a screen then at Mum and me with a smile on his face and complimented the detailed email we’d sent, “very professional” was his verdict, which made Mum look like the cat who’d just got the cream.   “As I see from your report you’ve already had sessions with a psychiatrist and she was dealing with the fact that you are still wearing and wetting your nappies, even though the initial cause was thought to be anxiety.” He saw us both nod so carried on. “Her basic conclusion was that it may have been anxiety that started you off... it is the fact that you now like the situation... hmm?” Again he looked at us both for any comment but we had nothing new to add. “However, the introduction of the drugged pacifiers has, as far as you are aware, made you more susceptible to regression... a development where you are not in control. Is that your take as well?” Mum nodded, “In a nutshell, yes.” I looked at Mum; she looked at me and we both looked at the Doctor. “OK then,” he said, “Let’s get some blood and a few other little tests and see what we can make of all this shall we?” I thought his attitude was much like my own, it wasn’t a big deal but, as it turned out, I was fooling myself. The reason for this was I suddenly felt myself slipping away and started crying as I peed my nappy then, as if on autopilot, feeling scared, leaned across and sought Mum’s protection with a needy cuddle. “Oh Doctor... he’s relapsing.” I vaguely heard Mum inform our host. #

Evelyn stopped getting out the supplies when her daughter had said those words, "oh sweetie you're no trouble at all Sherry's just going through a difficult time, she's still a little girl and this is all new to her, don't worry when she gets older she'll definitely like you, her parents and big sister already like you."

Many of my friends know, but strictly under the heading of incontinence. I am much more confident about sharing the fact but only with close friends. Generally they are more embarrassed than me and it is never mentioned again. I have mentioned to one or two that I like childish things, and they can see that in my office at home there are loads of toy cars etc. As for the ABDL nappies … no they are kept quiet!!

Just revisiting this thread. Good answers everyone, thank you. I have got older and am not feeling as childish as I used to, sadly. I guess now I have to be contented by just wearing shorts, some serious and some less so. I still wear t-shirts with loads of images/writing. The most childish is probably a ‘Popeye’ image. I do still wear exclusively ABDL nappies and my home made terry nappies have childish themes, trucks/sharks/spaceships, but those are only for me (and wife) to see, well, maybe if the neighbours arrive and they are on the washing line they might have a laugh (they know I am incontinent!!!).

94. My Mistress’s Wrath I could tell Ffrances was getting upset when I brought up that Tess had made her mess her diaper. She’d been pretty calm when she first looked back on the day’s events, maybe even a little childlike. But all I had to do was mention that, and I could tell she was ready to think about discipline. “Did you tell her to do that?” she asked, after a few seconds to think. “Of course not. I think she can be a good baby without involving you. She should never –” “Gabby,” she spoke sharply, and I dropped into silence as she put a finger to my forehead. “That’s not what I meant. Tell me the truth. Did you try to make Tess mess?” “Yes,” I answered. “But she always had the choice. She could have chosen not to say she was that little.” “Did she accept it voluntarily? Or was there some kind of bargaining chip there?” “I said if she accepted it, I’d use the other trigger so she could use the potty. Tell her not to have an accident.” I wondered if the next question would be about why Tess was having accidents. I’d told Ffrances that I didn’t plan to do that unless she gave me some sign that she wanted it; but as far as I could tell Tess had triggered herself by accident. There was no way I could be held responsible for that. “And you already made her crave the potty, didn’t you? She accepted the suggestion without knowing what it was. So she didn’t have the choice at all. You were trying to work around the restrictions on the trigger. And I am not impressed. Gabby, I told you that what happens today is Tess’s choice. That was the point. And you manipulated her.” “I’m sorry,” I whimpered. When she put it like that, she gave the impression that I was being cruel to the little one, and that wasn’t what I had intended at all. I just wanted to push her into doing that, so she would realise that it was natural for a little. But could I have pushed too hard, resulting in Tess lashing out? “I never thought she’d do that to you. Perhaps that’s my fault, but I think she still needs some kind of discipline so that–” “No,” Ffrances cut me off. This wasn’t a broken girl who needed support; there was anger there now, and she was using the Mistress voice that always made me weak at the knees. “We had quite some discussion about limits before today. We agreed on what’s acceptable and what isn’t, didn’t we? You told me your plans, and how far you expected it to go. I promised Tess that I knew what you were planning, and that you would respect her limits.” “That’s still no excuse for forcing you into–” “You promised not to try anything she’s uncomfortable with. And you broke your word. She promised to abide by the limits I suggested. I said that anything you tried to make her do, whether she accepted it or not, was fair game. So no, she didn’t break the rules. She thought about what might help me feel small, and tried to find a compromise between everyone’s desires. I’m starting to think she might be more suited to the Mommy role than you are. I didn’t expect that last one at all, but there’s a big difference between unexpected and inappropriate. You crossed a line there, Gabby, only you.” “No,” I said, and shook my head. “Well, maybe I went too far, but so did she. Remember, I wasn’t even going to make her wet her diaper. But she did that all by herself. She said it was a mistake. She was trying to do that to you, and she said ‘we’ by mistake. That’s already over the line. And it tells me that she really wanted it, even if she says she doesn’t. Like you said, she’s really interested in losing control more than babying. I wasn’t sure if I should have stopped it there. But I thought that pushing it a little further might make her realise how she’s making you feel.” “And how should I feel?” That was a question with barbs. She was hugging me close, still looking for comfort after her experience. But I knew there was a wrong answer to that question, and for now I couldn’t be sure what it was. “Gabby, don’t spoil this, please. Today was Christmas, at least for the little ones. It was supposed to be a day of pure fun. And–” another tap on my head to make me listen, when she could tell I was about to say something about how Tess had tried to spoil her enjoyment. “And Tess knew exactly what to say to make me feel like a real baby. You were less focused; you couldn’t stop talking to me like an adult even when I wasn’t, so I didn’t understand half of what you were saying. But that’s just the details. It’s been a great day, so please don’t spoil it now.” I turned my head to one side as soon as she allowed me to move, and kissed her deeply. Yet again, I couldn’t believe how lucky I’d been in meeting such a strong woman. She’d been through so much, way more than I ever anticipated, just so that I could make Tess my little. And even after being completely infantilised, she wasn’t giving up. “So…” she said, a second later. “I think Tess said she’ll still be a little girl when she comes down again. Think I should be little too? Even if she’s only feeling the residual effects from the previous suggestions, helping her to feel little when she wears childish clothes, I think she’d enjoy being my big sister again. To remind her that she can be whatever level of little she is comfortable with.” “Okay,” I said. “But we need to make it clear to her that you’re not really a little. She can play a bit, but we should tell her right out that she is absolutely not allowed to make you incontinent again. Do you think that would be enough, or has she earned a spanking already?” Then there was a long sigh. I couldn’t work out what Ffrances was thinking, but there was clearly a battle going on in her mind. Between her discomfort over what had happened and her desire to see the little one happy, perhaps? Then she pushed me hard back on the bed, and stared at me firmly. “No. I asked you not to spoil a perfect day, Gabby. But you just can’t leave it alone, can you? No, you are not going to spank her, but you can have a spanking if you want. And you’re not going to tell her I’m no little, because I am. I knew it the first time I read one of those articles you shared on FriendSpace. I read those words and I saw myself in it. But you’re so caught up with this fantasy of me as your perfect dominant that you couldn’t listen. I asked you to baby me a dozen times before I’d even heard of your cousin John or his daughter. And you acted like I was joking, because it didn’t fit into your fantasies of who you want me to be. Or you misunderstood me, or pretended not to hear. Or you said you knew I was just doing that to please you, and you couldn’t put me through that. I wasn’t, this is what I wanted. And I couldn’t work out how to make you understand. When Tess told me that she knew you wanted an adult baby, I was so happy. She was going to give you an ultimatum, to make sure that you properly agree on limits before she regresses, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. And I asked if she would like a baby sister.” “What?” I found my tongue long enough to ask. She was raising her voice now, and I couldn’t see where this was coming from. Maybe she was trying to justify what had just happened, pretending she’d always been okay with it so she wouldn’t feel so helpless. “The last rule she set down, that you’re not allowed to treat her like a baby unless she has a little sister. I asked her to add that. Because you wouldn’t believe me when I just asked you, but I thought you might give in when it was the only way Tess would play along. And then today… she gave me exactly what I’d been wanting. And it was incredible. I loved it, the whole day. Eating with my fingers, making a mess, struggling to open presents, and needing her to help me with every little thing. It was all I had been hoping for. She gave me every trigger you offered, whether or not she wanted to try them herself, because that’s what I asked her to do beforehand.” “Yeah, but…” I started, and then thought again. I’d done my best to come up with suggestions that would make Tess feel excited, and make her willing to spend more time as a little. That had been the whole point of a lot of the stuff with presents. I chose my words carefully so I could build habits that were hard to break. Apparently Ffrances’s understanding of hypnosis hadn’t helped as much as I might have hoped when it came to avoiding that trap. She would be back to normal soon enough, but for now she was craving more of what I’d told her to enjoy. But there was one thing that had happened without any triggers to make her enjoy it, and I was sure that would help her to think clearly again. “But the diapers… Before I did anything like that, she made you…” “Made me piss myself? Yeah, I need to thank her for that.” I would have responded right away, but something had just occurred to me, and I was replaying the words in my head. It made more sense now, and I felt like I understood how the hypnosis worked for Tess a little better. At the start of the day, I’d told Tess that if she tried to make Ffrances wet she would have an accident. A surprise, I had said, and I now knew that daytime suggestions like that could work. Now the block had been lifted from my mind I could remember, and I realised that Tess would subconciously set up a scenario that made sense for her. Rather than just peeing, if I told her to have an accident she would drink too much and get desperate. Or this time, perhaps her subconscious mind had decided that the most natural way to have an accident then was to say “we” instead of “you” when she triggered Ffrances. Now I knew why Tess had needed my help to stop wetting; because she’d inadvertently given them both the same trigger, and it was one that was going to last the rest of the day. I smiled briefly, congratulating myself for figuring out what had happened. But I had to pay attention, because Ffrances was still talking. “I was curious how it would feel,” she said. “And now we’ve tried it, I’m going to tell her that she’s allowed to do that to me whenever she wants. No, don’t argue. I’m not forcing you to change my diapers, it seems you’re a little mad about that. But if Tess is willing to do it, or if I can change myself when I get back to adult, it’s a really good way to get deeply into that headspace. So stop talking about punishing her for doing as I asked. This is your last warning. When we’re both little, Tess has control of my potty training, and she can do it whatever way she wants. If you want to be able to trigger me directly, I can try being little when it’s just the two of us. But if you want to be a good Mommy domme, you could learn a lot from Tess.” “I’m… sorry…” I didn’t know what else to say. Those words cut so deep, I knew I had to improve. But parts of her rant were so over the top that I soon realised she couldn’t mean it.  She was just putting me down, a burst of pure aggression to burn off all the big domme energy before going back to being ‘little sister’. She was just putting me in my place, reasserting our usual dynamic for a few minutes because it would help both of us keep a clear head later this evening. “Okay. I messed up this afternoon, and I’ll learn to do better. Please forgive me.” “Of course, darling,” she said and leaned down for a kiss. There was no way I could have fought her, and after a pretty rough discussion I was feeling like I understood my world again. How much of what she had said was a temporary side effect from her trance, and how much was to put me off balance so that I’d feel weak and helpless, I didn’t know. But I was sure that we would be properly back to normal soon enough. I returned the kiss, and whispered a few words about how much I loved her taking control. Minutes later she was tugging my pants off, and then she was holding me down firmly, spanking me until I cried out. “So…” she said, after I’d had a few minutes to recover. “Is Tess waiting for us?” “Could be. You think we should…” “It’s been a good Christmas. Let’s make the best of it. I’m getting younger again. I’m four years old, and I’m going to experience all the little things that Tess says.” “Good girl,” I kept on praising her while I got dressed again. It was strange to  talk to my Mistress like that, but I knew she was probably right on one thing: feeling like she was in control would help Tess to be more comfortable with the things that had happened. For now, I would go along with it, treat them both like little girls, and help her to learn how to be a good little. Getting Ffrances out of that mindset could be left until later.