Diaper References

Chapter 5: Help Tales of the Sanctuary: Book 1 - Denial – LittleFallenPrincess     “Oh hey Bea…” Susie said to me, as I rushed past her across the Sanctuary lobby, heading from the portal I kept hidden in one of the closets within the Sanctuary, one I used to get to and from home quickly and easily, one that no one but me knows about or can see without my permission. “SISTER… WHERE…?” I yelled, looking frantically around for the only person I knew could possibly help. “Beth? She’s in the office, behind reception… are you okay Bea? You’re dressed… umm…” “Can’t talk… not now…” I ran over to the reception counter, leaping over it effortlessly, probably showing off the wet nappy to my sister-in-law, but right now… I didn’t give a fuck. I needed my sister. I needed help. I needed…  Running up to the office door, I tried opening it but found it to be locked. So I started banging my closed fist against the glass “BETH!” I screamed. “Just a minute…” she called out. “BETH… PLEASE… HELP…” I heard shuffling, as if someone was trying to hurry, before the door unlocked and opened, revealing my sister there, wearing her usual work attire of blouse, pencil skirt and heels, as she looked me up and down. “What is… wait… Bea… What are you wearing? You look like… Susie…” she asked, confused. “Help. I need help. Now. Please. Help her…” “Help who?” “My girlfriend…” “What’s up with her? And wait… since when do you-?” “SHE WON’T WAKE UP!”   --------------------------------------------------------------   “Carry her into the back, there’s a good girl,” Beth instructed Susie, who used her increased strength to effortlessly carry my girlfriend’s lifeless body out of the portal, and into a private room in the back of the Sanctuary. Beth and I followed closely behind her, my sister putting her hand on my shoulder, guiding me and trying to comfort me. “I… please… help her… I…” “Beatrice… calm down. It’s okay. I’ll help you… but first you’ll have to tell me more about her. And more about… well… all of this. Because last I checked, you hated cutesy clothes, you didn’t have a secret hidden portal to Goddess-knows-where, and oh yeah… YOU DIDN’T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” “I… I… I’ll explain. I promise. I just… need you to… help… help her… please…” “I’ve never seen you like this. Not in a long time. So it must be serious. Tell me everything,” she said as we entered the private room. Susie placed Sera’s body on a table, before Beth walked ahead and began examining it. “How long has she been dead?” “About twelve hours now… she usually wakes up by now…” I replied, sounding exhausted. I had no more tears to cry, I had exhausted them all up to this point. “And what caused her to die?” Beth asked. “She… I… I can’t explain…” “Bea, what caused her to die?” I couldn’t tell her the truth, despite the judgmental mummy voice. I trusted her more than anything… but she can’t know. “She just ran out of life. It was her time again. I tried helping her come back… but this time she just didn’t,” I said, not exactly lying… but definitely being vague. “Again? Wait… Bea… have you been resurrecting this poor girl? Behind my back? Without consulting me? You know the risks!” “I haven’t! I promise!” “I was lucky with Susie. And I say that considering we had to deal with Death themself. We got off easy. Necromancy is not something you just… do…” “I didn’t! I may have borrowed your book, but it wasn’t…” “SO YOU STOLE IT? That’s where it was! I’ve been looking everywhere for that. Why would you do such a thing?” “I didn’t use it to bring her back! I promise! I just needed it to brew something that would make her ‘coming back’… a little… less rough.” “Stop lying to me, Beatrice! First you come to me with this mysterious dead woman whilst you’re dressed like… that, claiming that she’s your ‘girlfriend’, then you tell me you stole my book… Bea… tell me the truth…” “I’m not lying! She is my girlfriend! I didn’t use necromancy to bring her back! I…” “Why on earth are you dressed like that?” Susie added, finally chiming in. I felt like I was being attacked. I could feel my brain getting overloaded. This was all too much for me to process. “I… I…” “Bea, just tell me the truth,” my sister sounded more irritated at this point. So I ran.   “Bea… Bea? Beeeeeeea…” I could hear Susie’s voice calling out. Clearly she was sent to go find me, and so she has. But I kept quiet, in the hope that maybe she wouldn’t notice me. Because my thoughts were all over the place. “There you are…” Susie said, making me submerge further into the ball pit. “What are you doing in here?” “I… needed… somewhere quiet…” “Are you okay?” she asked, before she climbed in and sat next to me, pulling me up out of the mass of balls slightly so my head and face were visible. “I… needed help… I… I…” “Look, you’re my sister-in-law. You’re one of my best friends. I’m always here for you. And I’ll never judge you. Even if you keep secrets… like… wearing nappies…” I submerged myself into the ocean of plastic, multicoloured balls once again, trying to hide my shame. “So you saw…” “Kinda hard to miss…” she smiled, awkwardly. “I…” “Want to tell me?” “No.” “That’s fine then.” “But I should…” “That’s fine too. Again, no judgement from me. Okay? Just tell me whatever you want. Baby steps… or is that a bad choice of words?” she asked, giggling. “Not funny…” “Sorry, couldn’t resist. Look, my wife is looking after your girlfriend. Or whoever that woman actually is-” “She is my girlfriend.” “Okay… well we’ll get to that amazing revelation in a minute… but yes, Beth is looking after your girlfriend’s body. She’ll see if she can help her. You stay here with me, okay?” “I need to get back…” “Yes, but not in the state you’re in now. You’re no help to anyone when you look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack… which… I’ve gotta say… I never expected you of all people to be experiencing…” I emerged a little more from the ocean of plastic balls again, still too nervous to look Susie in the eyes. “...I’m autistic.” “Wait… you are?” “Yeah… I… umm… only three people know though. I keep this persona, this image of confidence that I created when I was younger… to keep her safe…” “Her? I assume you’re talking about your ‘girlfriend’?” “Yes. We’ve… we’ve been dating for decades now… the Bea you think you know now? That was the Bea I was, before I met her…” “Decades? But what about all those people you’ve slept with and dated?” Susie asked, sounding confused. “Anyone after I met her? Made up. Before then… yeah, I was a bit of a slut.” “WHAT? Reveal of the century! Bea, the badass, made up… wait… how did you do that? They all say…” “I implanted memories. Pretended to date. Used… magic on people…” “Well we’ll talk about consent another time, though honestly… that’s a bit of a weird grey area I guess… but wait, so you ‘pretended’ to date and sleep with other people… just so others wouldn’t know you’re dating that woman back there?” “Yeah… to… keep her safe…” “Right, we’ll get to that eventually. Sorry, this is a lot to process. Bea, one of my closest friends, is not the person I thought she was…” “Sorry. I… I’m not usually this much of a mess. But everything with Sera… she keeps me grounded…” “Sera? Is that her name? Pretty…” “Yeah… Sera… she’s my everything. I… I love her…” “Bea? Using the word ‘love’? Must be serious…” “She’s also my… my…” “Mummy?” I blushed and wanted to hide again, but I felt Susie grab my arm and squeeze, preempting my withdrawal and countering it. “Don’t hide hun. You can tell me everything. I won’t tell a soul.” “She’s not just that… she’s my little too…” “Oh snap… you’re a switch? I mean I always figured you were somewhat switchy, but I didn’t realise you were a little/Mummy switch. Wait… how come you don’t-?” “Come to events? Tell anyone? I need to uphold my reputation. And being in thick nappies kinda shatters that illusion, don’t you think? Plus it was always more of my sister’s thing… and I felt like it’d be weird being little around her…” “Pff… it’d only be weird if she changed you or whatever. It’s not weird as long as you just keep it PG.” “Still… reputation…” I mumbled. “I know hun, but as someone who struggled to accept they liked this stuff… it’s not good to keep it bottled up and hidden. You should be you.” “It was my turn to be little this month… that’s why… that’s why I’m dressed like this… she’d usually come back and we’d switch an… an…” “Your turn?” “Yeah… every… look, I know it's weird, but it works for us.” “Hey, I’m not judging. Tell me all about it.” The way Susie was talking to me… it was weird. I wasn’t used to her talking to me like this… all… comforting. Usually it was the other way around. I always put on this facade, that I never needed help. Mostly because Sera kept me grounded. Sera was my rock, she was the one who helped me through everything. From my autism to my anxiety, to my depression… everything that I dealt with… she helped. No matter if she was little or big at the time. She was my everything, and now I had to resort to my friends… and actually open up to them properly for the first time… well… ever. “When she… umm… ‘passes’… I make sure she comes back… and when she does…” I really struggled to open up, but I knew it was for the best. Keeping her safe was no longer an option, I had to share her with the world. “She switches headspace. And it’s always towards the end of the month, though it's never on a particular day or date. So one month she’s my Mummy, one month she’s my baby.” “That… is an interesting take on it…” Susie said in disbelief. “Wait… so you adapt to her?” “Yeah…” I sighed. “That must be difficult. What if you want to be little but it's her turn?” “I…” I hung my head, avoiding eye contact with my friend. “I just deal with it.” “Not tried both being little?” Susie shrugged. “Yup… didn’t work,” I sighed. “And not bothered looking for another Mummy? One to keep you both little?” “I… couldn’t. I… had to keep her safe.” “You said that before. You’re keeping her safe. From what?” “From… everyone. She… she’s fragile.” “Bea, you can’t just lock the poor girl up somewhere. She needs a social life.” “You don’t understand. None of you would understand.” “What don’t I understand?” Before I could reply, a familiar voice rang out through the playroom, sounding extremely upset. “Beatrice…” “You want me to tell her everything you’ve told me?” Susie whispered to me. I appreciated the thought, but it was probably best coming from me. “No. I need to talk to my sister…” “Want me to come with or give you two some space?” “Hang out nearby, but give us a moment together?” “Will do,” she said, smiling at me, helping me stand up in the giant ball pit. And as I turned around, I saw a very pissed off Beth.   As we entered the back room, Susie closed it behind us, staying outside like I asked… and that’s when I saw Sera’s lifeless body just laying there. But there was a weird aura around her now… and I instantly started worrying. “Sera!” I cried out, running over to her, before being stopped by my sister. She physically held me back as I clawed and pushed as hard as I could, to no avail. “She’s fine. Or at least her body is. It’s just a little protection ward. Please… sit…” my sister ordered to me. Beth pointed to two chairs next to us, separated by a small, shoddy wooden table. So, trusting my sister that she was simply protecting Sera, I sat down, my heart racing as I dreaded telling her the thing I had avoided for decades. “So… I’m going to ask you a lot of questions. And you’re going to give me the truth,” she ordered, sternly, before sighing and staring at me. “Why… why are you being like this?” I asked, on the verge of tears. “Because, Beatrice… When my sister comes in with a strange woman’s corpse, claiming to be her girlfriend, whilst wearing what is clearly a nappy… I tend to wonder… What the hell happened to my sister and why would she keep such things from me? You’re clearly not the sister I thought I had…” “I…” “So let's start off simple. Who is the woman?” she asked, her face as unmoving as a statue. It was like a permanent resting bitch face as she interrogated me. “My girlfriend, Sera.” “How long have you been dating?” “Decades. Before you and Susie got together.” “That… is a long time to hide a secret girlfriend. How did no one find out?” “Hidden portal at Vic’s manor. Sera and I own a house in the middle of the countryside, we had a portal that linked the two. Then when I moved out… I changed it so it led here.” “So there’s a secret portal into my supposed SANCTUARY? Beatrice… The clue is in the name! It’s supposed to be SAFE!” “IT IS! NO ONE CAN SEE IT WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! NO ONE KNOWS SERA EVEN EXISTS!” “And why is that? Why does no one know she exists?” “Because…” “Because what?” “I… can’t tell you,” I mumbled, very awkwardly. “Why not?” “I need to keep her safe.” “And you can’t even tell your own sister?” “Oh like you were so forthcoming with Susie when you brought her back…” I snapped at her, quickly regretting how I sounded. Beth sighed. She knew I had a point. She had no right to argue about keeping secrets. “Look, trust me,” I said, trying to roll back my temper. “I’ll tell you… just not right now. Please. I… I still can’t focus.” “Fine. Then I guess I’ll enquire about the elephant in the room…” I sighed. I felt sick. I tried so hard to bury this side of me around my friends. Which was hard when they were all little, having fun… “Why am I dressed like this? Because, dear sister… your wife isn’t the only little in the family.”         ===================================================== Good prediction!   If you want to read a month in advance (that's 8 chapters), or just want to support me and my writing, you can do so through Subscribestar! Subscribers get 4 weeks (8 chapters) early access to chapters, and exclusive short stories (Nessa's Tale is currently the only available one). ======================================================== I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! 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Chapter 10: Just Between Us At first, I was relieved. I wasn’t a baby anymore. I’d finally be treated like a real adult, and I wouldn’t have to ask my mom’s permission for every little thing. This was the first time I ever had that much independence, and in theory, it’s what I’d always wanted. But the reality hit almost immediately: I was completely on my own. It wasn’t like New York, where I could catch a bus on the corner. The nearest stop was a mile away, and the bus only came every forty minutes. It didn’t feel like my parents would help me find a job, and I didn’t think I could find one on my own. Even if I did, what if they wanted to interview me in person? How was I supposed to get there? What was I supposed to do about food? Uber wasn’t an option, and I couldn’t exactly walk to the store. My mom hadn’t just stepped back; she’d left me stranded with no real way to get anywhere. As much as I hated that stupid car seat, it was still the only practical way for me to get anywhere. I didn’t have any idea what I was supposed to do. Mom made it clear that she wasn’t going to feed me anymore, and that scared me more than anything. I had a meal plan in college. My mom wasn’t going to let me move to New York unless we found a place that included meals. At home, she had always handled all of it. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner just showed up. I never had to think about where any of it came from, or how it ended up in front of me. I’d never cooked. I only knew how to put stuff in the microwave. I never had to buy groceries. I bought snacks, but that was mostly junk food. I didn’t really know what I needed. I’d never used Instacart, and I didn’t even realize grocery stores delivered. On paper, New York should have prepared me for this. I lived alone, held down a job, paid rent, and made it through six years without my mother in the next room. But my life there only worked because everything important was already set up for me. It wasn’t really a life; it was survival. Dartmouth fed me. The boarding house fed me. Public transit took me where I needed to go. Work gave me structure, and once I learned the route, I just repeated it. I didn’t build a life from scratch; I survived inside one that had already been built for me. What my mother expected now was something completely different. She expected me to know how to run a household, buy food, plan ahead, solve problems, and do it all without asking for help. New York taught me how to endure isolation and routine. It didn’t teach me how to be the adult she suddenly expected me to be. My parents’ house was big, but it never felt open. Our rooms were upstairs, along with the nursery, the playroom, and my mom’s office. We were never allowed inside my parents room. The door was always closed, and to this day, I still don’t know what it looks like. My mom’s office sat right next to the nursery and playroom, so it always felt like she was just outside the door. For most of my childhood, Chris had his own room. I have a vague memory of him being in the nursery, but I was very young. Charlotte and I each had our own crib in the nursery until she was seventeen. Then Mom converted the playroom into Charlotte’s room. When I got out of diapers, Chris was still living at home, so I had to stay in the nursery. Mom removed the rails, but that was the only thing that changed. It was still a crib, in a room meant for a baby. A few months later, Chris moved out, and I moved into his room. I slept there, kept my things there, and lived there, but to my mom, it was never really my room; it was still Chris’s room. After I moved out of the nursery, she restored it to what it had been, like she planned on using it again. We may have slept upstairs, but we lived downstairs. That’s where the kitchen was, where the TV was, and where we spent most of our time. Off to the side was a part of the house we never went into. My dad’s den was over there, along with the guest room. Since the den was off-limits and the guest room wasn’t for us, we were never allowed in that part of the house. To be honest, it felt awkward breaking through that barrier. I didn’t understand why she put me in the guest room. Going back to my old room would have made more sense. That’s where I slept, and where most of my stuff was. But in my mom’s mind, it was still Chris’s room, and one day he’d come back. That was never going to happen. She’d chased him off years ago, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. When I finally stepped into the guest room, it felt strange. I wasn’t supposed to be in that part of the house, and now that’s where I lived? In a lot of ways, the room was nice, but it felt like a hotel room. The queen-sized bed took up most of the space.  There was a small desk, a TV, and closets hidden behind sliding doors. A window looked out over the backyard, and there was even an ensuite bathroom. It was the first time I had ever had a bathroom to myself. But that part of the house felt cut off from everything else. Dad was the only one ever there, and he stayed shut away in his den. At first, the distance felt like relief. I was finally free from my mother’s control. But the longer I stood there, the more that feeling changed. This wasn’t freedom, it was exile. I was in an abandoned corner of the house with no one to help me. I tried to make the room feel like mine, but it didn’t. Nothing about it did. A few minutes later, my mother came in, dropped the box I’d shipped from New York at my feet, and left it there like a delivery. She didn’t ask any questions or offer any advice. She just said, “Here’s the stuff you brought from New York. Bring down anything you left in Chris’s room. I’m throwing out whatever is still there.” I didn’t know what to make of my mother’s new approach. A few hours earlier, I was still her baby. The constant nurturing and attention might have seemed loving, if I were a baby. Since I wasn’t, it felt sinister. But the second she agreed to treat me like an adult, all of that disappeared. I wasn’t her child anymore; I was just someone she had to deal with. What scared me most was that my mother didn’t take half measures. In our family, diapers meant we were babies. That was the rule. The second we were back in them, she treated us like babies and did everything for us, right down to the smallest detail. Then, the moment she decided we were ready, all of that stopped. From that point on, she expected total competence. No help. No patience. No allowance for failure. That was the rule. If we didn’t do it right, immediately and without complaint, we failed. This was just the next version. She gave me what I wanted, but without her structure, and I was terrified! I wanted freedom, but I didn’t want to be dropped without any help. It felt like she would watch me fail and never lift a finger. For as long as I can remember, I wanted my mother to be like everyone else: a normal mom who let her children grow up. But she was never like that. Even after I stopped wearing diapers, she never stopped being my mom. In college, she called almost every day. When she visited in New York, she always walked me back to my boarding house before returning to her hotel. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she always gave the same answer: “The world is never going to see you as an adult, so I have to make sure you get home safely.” That was what made this feel so wrong. However twisted her version of love, it was still the only kind of mothering I knew. This was the first time she had ever stopped mothering me, and she had done it all at once. The woman standing in front of me was still my mom, but I hardly recognized her. Then I realized I was still wearing the diaper Rachel put on me. I went through my bag for underwear, but it wasn’t there. Without thinking, I called out, “Mom, what happened to my underwear?” Mom answered, already annoyed. “What?” “Where’s my underwear?” “Why are you asking me?” I replied, “There were some in my bag, but they’re gone.” “Those? They were rags. I threw them out.” I looked at her. “What am I supposed to do?” She shrugged. “Figure it out yourself.” After that, I was furious, but mostly at myself. I had barely started, and I was already failing. I was still in the diaper, and it was wet enough that my mother might have changed it if she had bothered to check. I asked myself why I hadn’t used the bathroom. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was habit. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t ignore what it suggested: I wasn’t even potty trained. That doubt left me frozen. If I put on underwear, I could tell myself that I was trying to be an adult. But I was scared I’d have an accident, and maybe Mom would seize on that as proof I was never ready for any of this. On the other hand, wearing protection felt like I was giving up before I even started. This was the first time I had ever gone straight from diapers to underwear without being potty trained again. Every other time, Mom made me start over, like it was my very first time. She sat me on a little potty chair and watched while I did it. I got a star when I did it right, and when I earned enough stars, I could wear Pull-ups. If I stayed dry in my Pull-ups, I got to wear underwear. Now, it didn’t seem to matter whether I was wet, or dry.  I was completely on my own. In the end, I chose the safer option. I hated what it implied, but I told myself it was only temporary, just a precaution until I got used to using the toilet again. I ordered some underwear from Amazon and, after a moment’s hesitation, another package of Pull-ups, just in case. My next immediate issue was food. I didn’t have any food, and even if I did, I didn’t know how to cook. Ordering a pizza was the obvious choice, and on paper, probably the right one. But it still felt like one more way I was failing. When I got overwhelmed, I always went for the easy option. So, I ordered a pizza. It wasn’t as good as what I got in New York, but even bad pizza is good. I also ordered a two-liter bottle of Coke. There was an NFL playoff game on that night, and for a second, this didn’t feel so bad. With pizza, Coke, and a game on TV, I was set for the evening. But even that thought made me feel childish. Those weren’t adult decisions; they were the choices a kid would make if no one was watching. I could watch the game without worrying about my mom’s reaction, drink as much soda as I wanted, and stay up as late as I could. When the pizza came, I carried it into the kitchen to get a plate and a glass for my Coke. Mom looked up and snapped, “What are you doing?” “I need a glass for my Coke.” She sighed. “I suppose that’s fine, but you really should get your own dishes. Just clean up after you’re done.” My dad got home midway through the game and disappeared into his den to watch it. Normally, none of us went in there unless he called for us. We weren’t even supposed to ask. I stood there for a second, wondering if that rule still applied. Everything else had changed so fast that it was hard to tell what still applied and what didn’t. Finally, I made myself speak. “Dad, can I watch the game with you?” He mumbled, “Why not.” I sat with him through the rest of the game, holding onto this stupid little hope that maybe, now that we were alone, he’d finally say something about what was happening. I didn’t need him to fix it. I just wanted him to acknowledge it. Maybe ask if I needed anything. But he never did. We only talked about football. I called Charlotte after the game ended, because I didn’t know what else to do. I was overwhelmed and desperately wanted to talk to someone. Her face appeared on the screen a second later, already surprised. “Reggie?” “Yeah.” “Wait, how? I thought Mom had your phone. Why are you still up? I thought you had an early bedtime.” I hesitated. I didn’t know how much to tell her, but she was probably the only person who’d understand. I stumbled over the words, trying to figure out how to explain it. “Mom put me back in the nursery, but we went to Dr. Olson today.” “You did? Why?” I looked away from the screen. “Mom said she wanted to find out what was wrong with me.” I swallowed. “She told Dr. Olson I’d regressed so much she had to put me back in diapers.” I paused. “Which isn’t fair. Mom didn’t even give me a chance.” Charlotte’s face tightened, but she didn’t interrupt. That’s the nice thing about FaceTime—I could tell she understood without saying anything. After a second, she asked, “What happened?” “Well, Dr. Olson told Mom to stop treating me like a baby. She said I’m never going to grow up if Mom keeps doing this.” Charlotte looked genuinely surprised. As far as either of us knew, Dr. Olson and Mom had always been on the same side. She asked, “She did? I never thought Dr. Olson would go against Mom.”  “Me too.” Charlotte looked stunned. “Wait—did she actually say you were an adult?” I shrugged. “Not really. She said losing my job and coming back home messed me up, and that Mom needed to back off and let me be more independent. She made it sound like I did this on purpose.” Charlotte gave a small, knowing nod, but she didn’t say anything. For a second, I had the uneasy feeling she thought Dr. Olson might be right, but neither of us said it. Then she asked, “So how did Mom take it?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. It was weird. One second she was being Mom, and the next she just... wasn’t.” Nobody bore the brunt of Mom’s sudden changes more than Charlotte. She nodded. “That’s what Mom always does. Whenever I got out of diapers, she went psycho on me. It was like the second I wasn’t a baby anymore—she expected me to be perfect.” I shook my head. “No, this is different. Mom’s ignoring me. She’s barely said two words to me since I got home.” Charlotte hesitated. For a second, she looked like she wanted to believe me, but something in her face said she didn’t. Then she asked, “Really? Did Mom make you sit in the car seat?” I blushed. “Yeah, but she said the car doesn’t know how old I am.” Charlotte nodded, like that answer told her everything she needed to know. “Sounds like Mom to me.” I shook my head. “No, it’s more than that. She’s treating me like a tenant, and she wants me to pay rent.” “Seriously? That’s what I wanted when I moved back, but she wouldn’t take my money. I hoped she’d treat me like an adult, but she didn’t.” I let out a short laugh, but there wasn’t anything funny about it. I said, “She won’t even cook for me. I have to cook for myself.” “What? Do you know how to cook?” “No.” Her expression tightened. “But Mom loves feeding people!” I replied, “I know. That’s not the worst part. I have to get my own groceries.” Charlotte frowned. “Well… yeah. Adults get their own groceries.” I shook my head. “No, that’s not it. She won’t take me to the store.” Charlotte gasped. “What?” “She says I have to figure it out myself.” “Reggie, you don’t drive. How are you supposed to get food?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t even take an Uber.” “Why not?” “Drivers won’t take me. They think I need to be with an adult.” Charlotte stared at me for a second. She hadn’t thought about that, but most people don’t until I tell them. Then she nodded. “I guess you’ll have to do Amazon or Instacart.” I honestly didn’t know they did that. “They deliver groceries?” Charlotte’s face went blank. “What do you mean? Of course they do.” I think that was the first time she realized how little I actually knew about taking care of myself. I couldn’t hide it after that. “I’ve never bought groceries.” “Are you serious?” “Yeah. I’ve never needed to. I’ve always had meal plans, so I only went to the store to buy snacks. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to get.” Charlotte leaned into the screen. “Reggie! Mom’s setting you up to fail. I can’t take you to the store tomorrow, but I can take you Wednesday. Until then, order enough to get you through one day. Get some frozen meals and cereal—just the easy stuff. Then on Wednesday, I’ll help you get what you actually need.” She paused, then said more quietly, “And Reggie, even if it doesn’t seem like it, trust me, Mom is watching. Don’t make it easy for her.” I heard what Charlotte was saying, but it didn’t feel true. Mom hadn’t just stopped treating me like a child; she was completely ignoring me. And I didn’t think Charlotte fully understood what it was like for me. We’d both spent years in the nursery, but it wasn’t the same. Charlotte didn’t spend as much time in diapers during the day, and as far as I knew, she hadn’t worn them in over ten years. As overbearing as Mom could be, I would’ve taken that over being completely abandoned. I gritted my teeth, but I didn’t say anything. Charlotte looked at me and asked, “Okay, so tell me what happened?” I looked down and said, “She put me in diapers and treated me like a baby.” Charlotte gave me a look. “Reggie, I know that part. I want to know what she actually did.” I hesitated. Deep down, I knew she was right, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I mumbled, “It’s embarrassing.” Charlotte held my gaze. “Reggie, I know it’s embarrassing, but you can’t keep this to yourself. I’m the only person who really knows what this is like, and I should’ve told you what Mom did to me.” That threw me. Even though we were close, we had never talked about any of this. To be honest, I didn’t really know what it was like for her either. She was still in the nursery, still wearing diapers, when she was seventeen. I was only eleven, and I knew I was too old for them. But that was all I really knew about her experience, and I thought that was what she meant. I still didn’t think she understood what it was like for me. I sighed. “Okay, I’ll give you the highlights.” I told her about the playpen, Mom making me do tummy time, and then having Stacy come over to babysit. Charlotte looked startled. “Stacy? Isn’t she in high school?” I shook my head. “No, not anymore. She goes to UC Santa Barbara.” Charlotte nodded slowly. “Wow! Good for her. I still think of her as a kid.”  She then added, almost as if she was talking to herself, “It’s weird having a babysitter that’s younger than you.” For a little while, Saturday actually felt better. I said, “Mom even let me stay up late to watch the end of the football game,” as if that was supposed to prove something. Charlotte looked at me. “What happened last night? We came over, but Mom said you were tired and had gone to bed.” I looked back at the screen. “Did she say bed?” “No, but I know you don’t like hearing about your nursery and crib. So, what happened?” “I was watching the Niner game, and the Eagles took the lead. I got mad and threw my pacifier.” I blushed. “I thought they were going to lose.” Charlotte shrugged. “Didn’t they win?” I nodded. “Yeah, but I thought they were done. I didn’t find out they won until tonight’s game.” I paused. “Anyway, Mom said I was overstimulated. She took me into the nursery and wrapped me in a blanket so tight that I couldn’t move my arms or legs.” Charlotte’s face changed. “She did that to you?” She shook her head. “I hated it when she did that to me.” I was confused. “Wait. Mom did that to you too? When did that happen?” Charlotte looked away. For a second, I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said, very quietly, “It was during Covid. Right after things opened up.” I asked, “What happened?” Charlotte’s mouth tightened. “I mean... it’s kinda my fault.” She didn’t look at me when she said it. Mom had this way of making us feel like whatever happened was always our fault. I didn’t want her to shut down, but just like when she asked me, I wanted to know what really happened. I replied, “I knew about the bedtime, and some of the other stuff, but I didn’t know she did… that to you.” Charlotte let out a breath. “At first, Mom was good. I told her I wasn’t moving back unless she treated me like an adult. I wanted to pay rent, but she wouldn’t take my money. And for a little while, it almost felt normal. Then she started picking at everything. Little stuff at first. Then more and more. Before I knew it, she was just... Mom again.” She took another breath. “Once things opened up, I wanted to go out with friends. Mom didn’t think it was safe and wanted me to stay home.” It still didn’t make any sense. As far as I knew, Mom only put us in diapers when we had accidents or wet the bed, and she didn’t treat us like babies unless we were wearing them. This sounded different. It sounded like she got mad and put her back in the nursery as punishment. I asked, “Wait, so Mom put you back in diapers because you went out?” Charlotte gritted her teeth. “Not exactly. We live so far from everything, so I drove to the bar. I’d had a couple of drinks, but I wasn’t drunk, and Mom lost her mind when she found out I drove myself home. She said I was clearly not responsible enough to be an adult, and when I tried to argue, she pulled out the same line she used on you. She said I was overstimulated, and the next thing I knew, I was wrapped in a blanket and lying in a crib.” I stared at her. “I didn’t know.” Charlotte’s eyes filled. “Reggie, it was humiliating. She had Becca’s little sister babysit me.” Her mouth twisted. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have some teenager change your diaper?” I shrugged, “Stacy?” Charlotte nodded. “Yeah. Then Mom had me start over from the beginning. She even dragged out the same little chair I used with Kristy.” “How long did she keep it up?” Charlotte let out a short, humorless breath. “A couple of weeks, I think. I wasn’t working, so the days all blurred together.” Her mouth tightened. “But some of it didn’t stop when the rest of it did.” “What do you mean?” She went pink and looked away. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a mumble. “Reggie, I still wet the bed. I never stopped.” “Wait. But Mom let you out of the nursery when you were in high school. How did that happen?” “Back then?” she asked, and I nodded. “After I started high school, I told her I wasn’t a baby anymore, and that it wasn’t fair for her to keep treating me like one. I begged her to give me a chance, and I promised I’d take care of everything myself. She wouldn’t even know if I had an accident. It took us almost three years, but with Daddy’s help, we convinced her to give me a chance.” She blushed. “But this time, she didn’t trust me. She made me sleep in the nursery until I moved in with Dennis.”    

Good chapter .

62. The Last Minute Tess woke up to the sound of a rhythmic banging. It took her two or three seconds to realise that it was the sound of someone running on the stairs. Someone else was late; it made her feel a little more confident, like she wasn’t the child making silly mistakes anymore. Someone else could screw up and be late too, although she hoped it wasn’t Ffrances in such a panic. After a moment’s thought, she sat upright and forced herself to focus enough to check her clock. Just to make sure that the sounds of life elsewhere in the house weren’t because she had slept through her own alarm. It wasn’t; she still had twenty minutes before her alarm was going to sound. She allowed herself a little smile once she was sure that she was entirely on schedule, especially after she had checked her diaper and found that it was still dry. Without even using the hypnosis thing. Maybe she could take that as an omen, to tell her that she had a good day ahead. After that, her next thought was of her presents for Spike. His birthday was technically tomorrow, and the last time they saw each other before Christmas couldn’t be before school ended on Friday. But she wanted to give him both of his presents when they went to the cinema, because it seemed like a symbolic occasion. And that meant she should wrap them. The comics were easy. She had a binder for them, designed to protect precious documents in transit. The shop had actually had a couple decorated with images that resembled the Tags posters… an interesting piece of merch that didn’t really seem to have been advertised. Even now the movie was out, it didn’t seem to be widely known that it was based on a series of comic books, but there was some stuff available. That might surprise Spike; Tess knew that she’d told him about some of the things she’d been reading, but wasn’t sure if he knew that the movie they’d been to watch was a part of the same universe. So hopefully, all the stuff she’d packed inside that binder would pleasantly surprise him. She folded some tissue paper around it, and put a strip of tape across the join. The other gift was harder. She’d seen it in Swaggery, a place where she was more likely to laugh at the stock than to buy anything. But one item had caught her eye as she passed, and she couldn’t let it go. A bracelet; a simple faux-leather band joined by two pairs of letters which joined together as a clasp. The message printed around the band explained the letters ‘WWDD’, and as soon as she saw the slogan Tess had known that it was perfect for Spike. They could have been the words engraved on his heart. She didn’t know how to wrap something like that. In the end, she found a small bag with a vaguely christmassy print, and wrapped the bracelet up inside. She hoped that not being able to present it neatly wouldn’t make too much of a difference. And somehow, she had both gifts wrapped by the time she had to slap the alarm clock into silence. Now all she needed to do was get dressed, and hope that she hadn’t  forgotten any of today’s homework. “Is that you, Tess?” Gabby’s voice called from downstairs, just as Tess opened her bedroom door and took the first step towards the bathroom. “You awake? I’m going out early, so you can get breakfast now, or fix your own.” Tess hesitated. She wasn’t dressed yet. She hadn’t even taken off the overnight diaper, and she didn’t want anyone to see that. But she was wearing loose pyjamas chosen more for comfort than style, and she doubted that her underwear would ever be noticeable behind the thick fabric. And she didn’t want to miss out on fried bacon, not when the least-childish alternative in the cupboard was probably some kind of muesli. She turned around and headed downstairs right away, quickly tying her hair back as she ran to keep it out of her face. “I’m not a baby,” she muttered under her breath, in response to Gabby’s usual greeting. After saying it so many times, the words didn’t even mean anything now. A plate appeared in front of her as soon as she sat down, with a couple of slices of toast and a mound of scrambled egg with little pieces of chorizo in it. That was an immediate reason for a smile; she had already decided that one of the best things about day-to-day life in this house was getting a hot breakfast every day, and she was still being surprised by fried combinations she hadn’t tried before. The coffee was welcome as well; supplied today in a large mug with the slogan ‘WOLRD’S WORTS SPEELER’ cheerfully emblazoned on the side. Halfway down the mug, and with the first slice of toast quickly demolished, Tess started to wonder if running straight downstairs when Gabby called had been a good idea after all. Even if she didn’t take the time to get dressed, she could have used the bathroom before attempting breakfast. And now a twinge from her bladder was screaming that would really have been a good idea. She hadn’t realised how badly she needed to go until she thought about the size of that coffee, and a minute later she was squirming in her seat as she raced to clear her plate. She could have jumped up and run to the bathroom, but not without revealing her lack of forethought to Gabby. She couldn’t bear to give her cousin any more excuse to call her a child. But while Gabby had already mentioned being in a rush this morning, it wouldn’t arouse any suspicion if Tess bolted the rest of her breakfast and then ran straight for the bathroom. She was just in a hurry. She focused on nothing but the food in front of her, trying to get it into her mouth as quickly as possible. So much that she was startled by a sudden vibration from her phone; the alarm that would normally be telling her that she needed to start getting dressed. She gasped and jumped in her seat, and a moment later felt warmth spreading around her diaper. She pressed her legs together, trying desperately to keep from peeing, but it was already too late.

4 if they are high capacity otherwise 5 or 6. Normally one on when I go to work, change at lunch, a fresh one early evening and then one for bed