Sissy Room

Chapter 2 Mason came home as his brother was at the bottom of the rabbit hole. He closed his laptop and had a snack with his youngest brother. He thought about asking him for his advice, as Mason was pretty mature for his age, and he had been aware of Luke's issues.  Luke and Mason had lived through more than most of their peers, so they were both wise beyond their years in a lot of ways.   He didn't want to embarrass Hunter, but there really wasn't anything humiliating about it. He was getting up to use the bathroom a lot, it's not like the boys had never noticed it or been unaware of their sleeping arrangements the month before.    After swearing him to secrecy, Jake unloaded all of the details of the situation. Mason, to his credit, never reacted inappropriately or immaturely. He listened to the whole thing and nodded along.     “That's a lot, bro. I'm sorry. I knew you guys were going through something, but you didn't seem to want to talk about it and I knew better than to ask.”   “Yeah, just please keep this between us.”   “Of course. I don't want to upset or embarrass Hunter. I love him, he's awesome. He's the best thing that ever happened to us, way better than Mom and Dad. Everything those two did after giving us life was pretty much a waste.”   “I just wish I had a better answer. After spending all day on the internet the only thing I have to show for it is some out there forum where a bunch of women were talking about how they put their older husbands back in diapers because they got sick of their constant disturbances. If only Hunter was in diapers at night.”   “Maybe he should be!” Jake sat straight up in his chair. He was shocked by what he just heard. He looked at his little brother expecting him to have a mischievous or laughing expression, but he did not. His face was serious and sincere.    “You're not serious…”   “Aren't I? I admit that's not the most ideal situation, but it's a solution. You could get a good night's sleep again and so could he.”   “Oh sure, maybe I'll just build a big crib in our room and have him sleep in that at night…”    “Bro, make jokes all you like, but I really think it's something you should bring up. I know you feel like you're embarrassing him or treating him badly, but you're not. Diapers are for medical situations. It may not be his fault, but Hunter has a medical problem.”   “Yeah, but not really, he can make it to the bathroom…”   “If he's awake, he can. You said he had an accident this week. He's proven he can have accidents if he doesn't wake up. What if he sleeps through another one?”   “That's a big “if”. He's never done it before and he only did it because he was trying to sleep through his full bladder to help me…”   “Okay, look at it this way. How often do you and I get up at night to go to the bathroom once we're already asleep? Maybe a couple times a year. Think about it…. Think about how many times you actually have to get up to go. Grown men under the age of like 70 can usually make it through the whole night without a problem. You said most nights he has to get up twice. That means he can't make it through the night. In my view if you can't make it through the night, a majority of the time, you're not properly potty trained at night. Luke is not potty trained at night, he wears diapers. Hunter should wear diapers, too.”   “He'll never go for it…”   “That's why you take control of the situation. You can't leave it up to him to decide what's best. Lucas wouldn't wear his diapers, If you didn't make him understand that he needed to. You have to be forceful, but consistent. You can't be cruel, but you can't be soft either. Stand your ground. Make sure he understands that this is a non-negotiable for you.”   “He's really not gonna get on board with this.”   “We all love him, he's a great guy. He's being selfish here. That's what you have to drive home. The fact that he has to get up to wee wee every few hours is a HIM problem that he's dragging you into. He needs to be more considerate to his partner and step up like a man would. If he tries to complain, make him understand that his embarrassment is the trade-off for your healthy sleep. Ask him if his dignity is worth the cost to your mental and physical health. He's crazy about you, he wouldn't argue that point.”   “He's not going to see it that way. He's going to think that his embarrassment is me being manipulative and I'm not sure that would be wrong.”   “You're not manipulating to be abusive or hurtful, you would be helping him reach a conclusion that is right. You're breaking down the barriers of unhealthy pride, to get to a necessary place. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your well-being or hurt your career because he feels like more of a man going tinkle in the potty than using a diaper.”   “You keep using those childish terms…”   “Yes. Because you have to reinforce to him that he's being childish. Using those terms makes him understand that his needs are trivial and immature, compared to the long-term impacts of his condition on you.”   “No offense, bro, but you sound a little too well versed on this…”   “Well, honestly, I pay more attention than I should. I can see that you haven't been yourself and I can hear him getting up sometimes and going to the bathroom. Your guys’ room is right across the hall from mine. I kind of put two and two together and I really didn't know how I was going to approach either one of you about it, because it really isn't my business. It just kind of came to me, one night, he should wear diapers like Lucas and then he would never have to get up. I admit it's kind of messed up, but I think it could work.”   “I feel guilty. It's selfish of me to ask him to sacrifice something like that. It would be a huge blow to his dignity. Also, once you get somebody used to using them at night, it takes away all of their training. They can't go at night without diapers anymore. I would be making him compete lose his nighttime potty training. Then what if we broke up or he decided he didn't want to do it anymore? No. As tempting as it is, the answer is no.”   “Okay, big bro. I respect your decision. I'll stay out of it. I won't say a word to anybody about this. Think about it, though, because this will continue to drive you two apart..”   Jake thought about his brother's words for the rest of the afternoon. He knew that he was right, on some level, but Jake could never bring himself to ask Hunter to make that kind of sacrifice. At the end of the day, this wasn't anything that Hunter was doing to him to be mean or malicious, it wasn't his fault.    That night, Jake asked Hunter if they could excuse themselves in private. They went up to their room and Jake took a few deep breaths before addressing an uncomfortable subject.   “Babe. Look. I'm sorry. I know I've been grouchy and short with you. I broke one of my own rules that we would always communicate and be open with each other. I'm sorry about that. It wasn't because I didn't want to be, but I wasn't sure how to approach the subject without making it sound like I'm blaming you for something that isn't your fault.”   “I'm confused…. But please be honest with me, you know I love you Jacob. I don't want you keeping secrets from me. Just tell me what's going on.”   “It's just…. Our sleeping arrangements, It's not working out”.    Despite his intended sincere plea for honesty just a few moments ago, Hunter could not disguise his contempt for this conversation. He rolled his eyes.    “See? That's what I'm talking about. That right there. We can't even have an adult conversation about this.”   “We can, but I don't know what you want me to do. We keep going down this road. You know I can't help it. I have to go to the bathroom when I have to go to the bathroom. I've been trying with rationing liquid. I go to the bathroom twice before we go to bed. I am trying! Like you said, it's not my fault. I'm doing the best that I can. I tried to sleep through and force myself and you know what happened…”   Jake put his arms around Hunter. “I know. You had an accident and I'm really sorry about that”. Jake was suddenly taken back by the fact that Hunter shuttered at the mention of his nighttime mishap. Jake also noticed that his cheeks were bright red. He was truly mortified by what happened. He was reacting like a small child would, having been caught with wet sheets.   “Don't say it like that!”   “Like what?”   “I didn't have an-, it was- I just-” Hunter was trying to stammer his way through an explanation. Jacob had made it sound like he was some little kid that peed his bed. To be fair, that's what happened, but it wasn't like that. He forced himself to sleep through to try to help Jake.    “Oh, honey. I know. It's not exactly the way it sounds.” Jake briefly flashed back to his conversation with Mason, earlier. “I mean, if we're being honest, though, you did lose control of your bladder while you were sleeping. I'm almost positive you didn't do that on purpose. That's basically an accident, hun.”   “It's not the same thing…”   “It is in the sense that you weren't able to hold it through the night, despite all of your best efforts. We need to be realistic that you are not fully capable of holding it all night. It isn't your fault, but it's the reality of the situation.”   “It's not fair! I'm not even 40!”    Jake was surprised for yet another time today. He wasn't expecting this kind of vulnerable, emotional reaction from Hunter. Hunter was usually pretty well collected and in charge of himself. They didn't share these kinds of vulnerable moments very often.    “I know, baby. I know. You're right, you were dealt a little bit of a bad hand here. Glass half full, there are people even younger than you that deal with a lot of worse. This is not anything too serious. We’ll be able to get through it. The thing is, I have to get some sleep. I have to be able to go to work on a full night's rest. So I've come to a decision. It's not when you're going to like, in fact I know you're going to protest, but I've made up my mind and there's no changing it. This is how it's going to be from now on and you're just going to have to get used to it.”   Hunter looked at Jake, as a feeling of uncertainty and panic came over him.

CHAPTER 2 Jacob waited until the sink faucet squeaked off and Lana’s bedroom door clicked shut before he dared to move. The diaper crinkled obscenely as he sat up, the sound magnified in the quiet room. He peeled back the sheets with careful slowness, half-expecting Lana to burst back in at the noise, but the house stayed silent save for the hum of the fridge downstairs. The dryer light was still on when he padded barefoot into the laundry room, the warmth hitting him like a breath. His pajamas sat folded on top of the stack—or at least, what *used* to be his pajamas. The fabric felt oddly stiff as he shook them out, the cotton tighter than he remembered. He tugged the pants up his legs, wincing as the waistband strained over the bulk of the diaper. The hem stopped a full inch above his ankles, the fabric pulling taut across his thighs with every step. Lana must have washed them with the sheets. The shirt was worse. The sleeves rode up past his wrists, the hem barely skimming the top of the diaper’s waistband. Jacob twisted in front of the smudged mirror above the dryer, his reflection warped by age and humidity. The diaper peeked out beneath the shrunken shirt like some shameful secret, the plastic gleaming under the fluorescent light. He tugged at the hem uselessly, but it sprang back, revealing the telltale tapes at his hips. A floorboard creaked overhead. Jacob froze, hands still clutching the too-small shirt. Lana’s footsteps moved across the ceiling—pausing, just for a beat, right above the laundry room. His pulse hammered in his throat as he imagined her standing there, ear cocked, listening for the rustle of plastic. But then the footsteps continued, fading toward her bedroom. Jacob exhaled shakily and reached for the doorknob. The hallway was dark, the only light spilling from under Lana’s door. Jacob crept past it on bare feet, the diaper whispering against the inside of the shrunken pajama pants with every step. He was almost to his room when the floor groaned under his weight—a sharp, splintering sound that seemed to echo through the entire house. Lana's door swung open with a theatrical creak just as Jacob froze mid-step, the diaper crinkling like a live microphone in the silent hallway. Golden light spilled around her silhouette, illuminating the absurdity of his shrunken pajamas clinging to his frame—the pants straining over the diaper's bulk, the shirt riding up to expose the plastic waistband like some tragic midriff trend. Her hand flew to her mouth, but not fast enough to smother the snort that escaped. "Oh my god, Jacob," she gasped between barely-contained giggles, leaning against the doorframe for support. Her robe gaped slightly with the motion, revealing the damp tendrils of hair clinging to her collarbone. "I am *so* sorry—I didn't realize your jammies were in with the sheets." She bit her lower lip, the effort to maintain a straight face making her shoulders shake. "You look like a teenager who outgrew his clothes overnight but his mom hasn't noticed yet." Jacob's face burned hotter than the laundry room dryer. He crossed his arms over his exposed midsection, the diaper's waistband digging into his ribs. "It's not funny," he muttered, but the way his voice cracked undermined the protest. Lana wiped imaginary tears from her eyes, her laughter subsiding into occasional hiccups. "Oh, sweetheart, it's *a little* funny." She reached out to pinch the sleeve of his shirt, stretching the fabric until the seam groaned. "Remember when you were twelve and refused to admit you'd outgrown your dinosaur pajamas? You wore them until the feet ripped open." Her thumb brushed his elbow—fond, familiar—before letting go. "You'll be fine wearing them tonight."   Jacob hesitated at the bathroom door, fingers hovering over the diaper’s tapes. The plastic was already warm from his body heat, the padding pressing insistently against him in a way that made his stomach twist. He just needed to peel it off—just for a second—to prove he could still use the toilet like a normal person. Jacob exhaled sharply through his nose as Lana’s knuckles rapped against the bathroom door. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” she called, her voice muffled through the wood. The doorknob jiggled—testing, not turning—and Jacob’s fingers spasmed against the diaper’s tapes. “And please try to use the potty like a big boy,” she added, the mocking request landing like a stone in his stomach. He stared at his reflection—flushed cheeks, shrunken pajamas, the diaper’s waistband peeking above his waistline—and gritted his teeth. He pulled his tight pajama bottoms down and wondered what to do. The tapes refused to budge and started to rip the plastic when he peeled the left one back. Jacob exhaled through his nose and hooked his thumbs under the diaper's waistband, wincing as the tapes strained against his hips. He tugged downward in slow increments—left side first, then right—the plastic resisting like a too-tight bandage. Cold air hit his thighs as the padding slid halfway down, the sudden exposure making his stomach flip. He aimed carefully, shoulders tense, listening for the faint patter against porcelain. The stream was pitiful—barely more than a trickle—and cut off abruptly while his bladder still ached. He gritted his teeth, willing more out, but his body refused to cooperate. The diaper sagged awkwardly as he pulled it back up, the tapes loosened from his fumbling. One side gaped slightly, the adhesive weakened. Jacob hesitated, running a finger along the wrinkled plastic. *Probably fine,* he thought, yanking his shrunken pajama pants over the bulk. The fabric stretched obscenely across the diaper's outline, the waistband digging into his hips. He flushed the toilet without looking—half-expecting Lana to burst in and check—then shuffled toward the sink. Toothpaste foamed pink in the bowl as he spat, the mint doing nothing to cut through the baby powder clinging to his palate. The diaper shifted under his pajamas with every movement, the loosened side slipping incrementally lower. He tugged at his waistband instinctively, but the damage was done—the tapes had lost some of their grip, the plastic whispering against his thighs with every step. The bedroom door clicked shut behind Jacob with a soft finality that made his shoulders sag. He stood there for a long moment, fingers still curled around the knob, the diaper shifting subtly beneath his too-tight pajamas. The faint crinkling sounded deafening in the silence—a humiliating reminder of the absurdity of the last few hours He exhaled sharply through his nose and let go of the door, padding across the room on stiff legs. The mattress groaned as he collapsed onto it, the diaper puffing up around his hips in a way that made his stomach twist. He stared at the ceiling fan’s lazy rotation, counting the uneven clicks between rotations as if they might somehow order the chaos in his head. *Overreacting.* That’s all this was. Lana had always been dramatic—like the time she’d threatened to donate all his video games when he failed algebra, or when she’d made him wear a “I forgot to do my chores” sign to school for a week after neglecting the dishes when he was in grade school. This was just another one of her exaggerated power plays. A few dry nights, maybe a grudging apology for being lazy promising to correct himself and they’d never speak of it again. Outside, a car door slammed—probably Amanda returning from some late-night errand. Jacob pictured her balancing grocery bags while Tommy slept in his car seat, probably not even wearing a pull-up at this point. The thought made his jaw clench. Jacob rolled onto his side, the diaper rustling like a bag of chips under his weight. The shrunken pajama pants dug into his waist, the elastic leaving indent marks on his skin. He hooked a thumb under the waistband, tugging futilely at the fabric, but it sprang back with a quiet snap. The motion made the diaper shift again, the loosened tape on one side peeling away slightly with a sound like Velcro giving up. Jacob melted into his mattress. The last thing Jacob remembered was the ceiling fan's hypnotic wobble—three slow rotations, then a click, then three more—before exhaustion dragged him under. Sunlight stabbed through the curtains like a knife, slicing across his face. Jacob groaned, rolling away from the assault—only to freeze as cold wetness seeped up his side. The sheets clung to his hip, soaked through. His stomach dropped before his brain even registered the telltale crinkle between his legs. *No. No no no—* He bolted upright, the diaper sagging heavily against his thighs. The one tape had held—barely—but the other came loose, warm liquid seeping through the leg gathers onto the mattress. A dark stain spread beneath him, the outline unmistakable. Jacob's breath came in shallow bursts as he peeled the diaper away, the wet padding peeling off his skin with a sound that made his ears burn. Down the hall, the shower had been running and just shut off—Lana’s morning ritual. The pipes groaned like old bones. Jacob stared at the sodden mess in his hands, the reality crashing over him: *He’d slept through it. Entirely.* No frantic half-awake scramble to the bathroom, no hazy memory of stumbling to the toilet. Just... nothing. Jacob lunged for the sheets, fingers scrabbling at the damp fabric like he could somehow erase the evidence through sheer force. The mattress squeaked as he yanked them free, the wet patch glistening under the morning light—too big, too obvious. His pulse hammered in his throat as he balled them up, shoving the incriminating bundle into the hamper with a choked sound halfway between a groan and a whimper. Then his bladder twinged, a sharp reminder that panic hadn’t canceled basic biology. He spun toward the bathroom, the diaper drooping with each frantic step. The first stride tore the left side completely; the right gave way mid-step, sending the sodden padding slithering down his thigh to puddle around his ankles. He stumbled, pinwheeling arms catching the doorframe just in time to avoid face-planting onto the tiles. The toilet seat was cold against his bare skin as he collapsed onto it, legs splayed around the ruined diaper crumpled on the floor. His stream hit the water with a shaky, uneven patter—too late, too little. He dropped his head into his hands, fingers tangling in his hair. The scent of baby powder and stale urine clung to him, mingling with the sharp tang of his own sweat. Jacob barely had time to kick the ruined diaper under the sink before he opened the bathroom door to see Lana, arms crossed and a look that could melt a glacier. She stood there, robe cinched tight, her damp hair dripping onto the tiles. Her gaze locked onto Jacob's bare thighs, then flicked to the pajama pants clutched in his white-knuckled grip. The silence stretched three heartbeats too long. "You," she said, voice dangerously quiet, "are unbelievable." Her bare foot tapped against the floor—once, twice—before she strode forward and yanked his wet overnight briefs from under the cabinet open. The diaper slid into view like a damning piece of evidence, the swollen padding sagging pathetically. Lana made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. Jacob's throat clicked as he tried to speak, but Lana was already grabbing his elbow, her fingers digging in as she marched him towards his bed. The diaper crinkled in her other hand like an accusation. "I told you," she hissed, shoving him towards his wet mattress so hard he stumbled over the rumpled sheets. He scrambled backward onto the bed, pajama pants still tangled in his hands, as Lana loomed over him with the diaper dangling from her fingertips. The morning light caught the wet stain spreading across the front, making it glisten obscenely. Her nostrils flared. "Did you even *try* to use the toilet last night?" Jacob opened his mouth—to lie, to beg, he wasn't sure—but Lana cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Don't." She tossed the soiled diaper onto the floor with a wet splat and reached for the package on his dresser. She took out a diaper with expert precision. "Arms up." Lana's fingers hooked under the hem of Jacob's damp shirt before he could react. The fabric stretched tight—too tight—as she yanked it upward, the seams pulling like they might rip apart. Jacob's arms flailed instinctively, elbows knocking against hers as the shirt peeled away with a sound like tape ripping off skin. Morning air from the open window hit his bare chest like a slap, raising goosebumps across his ribs. Lana must have wanted to air out the smell and lifted it when he was in the washroom. He was now completely bare, once again, lying down with his stepmom hovering over him. Lana dropped the shirt onto the wet sheets with deliberate carelessness, her gaze raking over Jacob's exposed torso. "Look at you," she muttered, shaking her head. Her damp hair again clinging to the collar of her robe, the scent of flowery shampoo clashing with the sweet smell of baby powder. "Eighteen years old and I have to dress you like an infant." She pinched the diaper's waistband between two fingers, giving it a sharp tug that made Jacob's breath hitch. "Guess that's appropriate, huh? Since you're clearly regressing and peed the bed AGAIN." Jacob's throat clicked as he swallowed. His member twitched again, not trying to understand why as much as try to ignore it. Lana's nails scraped his hipbone and traced along his waist, her exhale hot against his collarbone. "Pathetic," she whispered, more to herself than to him. She started rustling the diaper to get it ready for Jacob and he decided not to argue about what he knew was going to come next. Jacob squeezed his eyes shut, but Lana's laughter forced them open again—a sharp, humorless sound that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, don't give me that face," she chided, tapping his bare thigh with the new, fresh diaper. "These will have to do for today," She shook the diaper one last time and lifted his legs, "These pharmacy diapers just won't do." Lana's fingers dug into Jacob's hips as she rolled him onto his side with practiced efficiency, the cold air hitting his bare skin making him shiver. The fresh diaper crinkled ominously as she slid it beneath him, her nails scraping his thigh just hard enough to leave faint red marks. "You know the rules," she murmured, shaking baby powder over him with exaggerated care. The white cloud puffed around his groin, settling into the creases of his thighs with embarrassing precision. "A wet diaper at night means diapers during the day. And the wet sheets, well... you'll see." Jacob's breath hitched as she smoothed the powder into his skin, her fingers brushing dangerously close to where he was trying desperately not to react. Lana chuckled low in her throat—a sound that vibrated through his ribs—and tapped his inner thigh. "So tense," she mused, snapping the front of the diaper up between his legs with a sharp flick of her wrist. "Relax, sweetheart. Unless you want me to think you're enjoying this?" The first tape sealed with a crisp *rrrip*, the adhesive biting into his hipbone as she pulled it snug. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only seemed to amuse her more. Her breath ghosted over his ear as she leaned in to fasten the second side. "You know," she murmured, her manicured nail making him twitch, "Tommy's officially been dry at night for two weeks now." The diaper's plastic rustled as she gave it a final pat, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. "And he's *three*." Jacob barely had time to process the humiliation before Lana surprised him by grabbing *another* diaper from the package, shaking it out with a crisp snap. "Wha—" His protest died as she layered it over the first, doubling the thickness between his legs with clinical detachment. The extra padding pressed against him with unmistakable bulk, the crinkling now unmistakable with every slight shift. "Insurance," Lana said briskly, dusting another round of powder between the layers. The scent of baby powder clung thickly to the air now, cloying and infantilizing. She smoothed the second diaper's gathers with methodical precision, her fingers lingering just a beat too long at the inner seams. "One diaper wasn't enough last night, so why should I trust one would be good enough for this morning?" The tapes sealed with deliberate slowness this time, each *rrrip* punctuated by her quiet exhale. Lana patted the doubled diaper’s front with a satisfied smack, the plastic crinkling obscenely loud under her palm. "There we go," she cooed, dragging her fingers along the waistband in a way that made Jacob’s skin prickle. "Such a good boy for Mommy." The words landed like a branding iron, searing straight through his chest. She straightened up, brushing powder from her robe as she surveyed him—bare-chested, legs splayed around the absurd bulk of his diapers. "Now let’s find you something… suitable to wear." She turned toward his closet with a sway in her step that felt deliberate, the robe’s belt swinging like a pendulum counting down his humiliation. Jacob watched, frozen, as she yanked the door open with a force that made the hangers rattle. Her fingers skipped past his hoodies, his graphic tees, even the button-down he’d worn to his cousin’s wedding last summer—zeroing in on a faded navy blue shirt shoved to the back. "Ah," she breathed, pulling it free with a flourish. The fabric stretched tight between her fists, the seams straining. "Remember this?" Jacob’s stomach dropped. An eighth-grade field trip shirt—the one that had been tight even then. Lana shook it out, the sleeves looking short and clearly made for a thirteen-year-old. "Perfect," she murmured, holding it up to Jacob’s shoulders. The hem would barely graze his navel now. "Lana—" His protest died as she tugged the shirt over his head without waiting for compliance. The collar caught on his chin, the fabric stretching tight across his shoulders as she wrestled it down. Cotton strained slightly against his biceps, the sleeves stretching just slightly longer than his pajama shirt. Jacob gasped as the hem rode up, exposing a strip of pale belly—and the stark white waistband of his diapers. Lana stepped back, lips pursed in appraisal. "Adorable," she declared, adjusting the neckline until it choked his Adam’s apple. The shirt clung to every contour of his torso, the V of the collar gaping to reveal his collarbones. She smoothed her hands down his arms, fingertips catching on the raised seams. "Still fits," she lied cheerfully, pinching the sleeve where it dug into his bicep. Lana's fingers dug into Jacob's biceps as she hauled him upright, the doubled diapers crinkling obscenely under the stretched hem of his old shirt. "Up," she ordered, her voice sharp as a snapped rubber band. Jacob staggered to his feet, the diaper bulk forcing his thighs apart in an awkward waddle. Cold air rushed over his exposed legs—wait, *exposed*— "Pants," he blurted, grabbing at the waistband of his diaper as if it could somehow preserve his dignity. "I need—" Lana's laugh cut through his protest like shears through tissue paper. She swept a hand toward his bare thighs, the diaper's plastic gleaming under the morning light. "And risk another *accident* ruining another pair?" Her manicured nail tapped the swollen padding where it peeked beneath his shirt. "No pants today, sweetheart. Now *move*." Jacob's face burned as she propelled him toward the door, the diapers whispering with every step. His toes curled against the hardwood, hyperaware of the way the floorboards creaked under his unsteady gait. Halfway down the hall, a draft from the vent licked up his bare legs, raising goosebumps beneath the diaper's waistband.

i  keep checking  and i think its not working  for some reason 

I blushed a bit as i never had anyone other then my mommy pick me up that i could remember as i shyly say "thank you". I sit there on the couch as i try to focus on watching tv again and to have my snack when we then could hear sherry being brought in to the living room.

Quickie entertainment quiz: In the movie, Nicky Santoro and brother Dominick are buried alive in an Indiana cornfield.  Who was Tony the Ant and how did he meet his end in real life?