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Hibiya: well we spent a lot of time here. Should be over in 5 minutes.    Hibiya dosent show it, but she’s surprised about Kai feeling so against dating Aldra. Either way she hopes they atleast make up. Just like Kai needs someone who understands that he wants to feel little, Aldra needs someone who can care for the little she’ll always be but still teach her things like affection.

Part 12 The journey home left both Mum and me feeling utterly drained. The emotional intensity of the consultation had clearly taken its toll. Mum seemed diminished somehow—perhaps it was just the weight of everything catching up with her, or maybe it was simply how I was seeing her in that moment. As for me, I was caught between two powerful feelings: the thrill of having made a significant discovery about myself, and a nervous apprehension about what the implications might be. The moment we arrived home; I headed straight up to my room. The meeting with the doctor had been emotionally charged, revealing, and left me wondering if I was actually in charge of myself. Adding to my discomfort, I’d been sitting in a soaked nappy for most of the session, unable to change while at her office. Things had become physically uncomfortable and I was relieved to finally have the chance to get into something clean and dry. I also wanted to avoid seeing Dad before I’d sorted myself out. With so much to share with him, both Mum and I were anxious about how he might react to everything that had unfolded. We hoped that whatever we told him, it wouldn’t come as too much of a shock, and of course, we were equally eager to find out what was happening with the police. # As a sixteen-year-old, my thoughts were all over the place and at different intensities. In that relatively short session, Doctor Laura forced me to face reality— had I actually been in denial? Had we both been in denial? I needed to acknowledge what was really happening in my head, and so too had Mum. My nappy was in quite a state. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to wear soggy padding for some time but I suppose the nervous wriggling around had made things worse. Thankfully, as always, the plastic pants did their job and held all the contents... no matter how much. Anyway, I disappeared into the bathroom to clean myself up and threw what looked like a well-used and extremely abused tangle of material in the bin. Strangely, because of what I’d just confirmed to the doctor, at the same time it felt like I was discarding an old friend. Reflecting on everything that had happened during the session, I realised that it was then, amidst all the awkwardness and honesty, that I finally admitted to my craving to wear a nappy. This admission to my particular taste in underwear wasn’t something I’d anticipated confessing at all. Yet, as the conversation with Doctor Laura unfolded, it emerged naturally—almost as though it was inevitable once we truly began talking. Her reaction was calm and open, as if she had expected such a revelation; there was no hint of shock or judgement from her. Mum, on the other hand, seemed a little taken aback by my admission, but I couldn’t help but think she must have suspected something, given the circumstances. Still, what had once felt like a secret or an embarrassment was now simply a part of my reality—my preference for certain types of underwear was just my normal. Actually, when I thought about it more – it really wasn’t that much of a secret. My interest and insistence on wearing a nappy must have been obvious and not just something I wore to ‘protect’ the bed. After all, I was wearing one all the time. After the session, relieved to be back home, I focused on looking after myself. I took the time to clean up properly and made sure to check for any soreness or redness—something I’d learnt to do as part of my routine. Once I was satisfied that everything was fine, I walked back to my room, enjoying the freedom of being naked, ready to find something more comfortable and soothing to wear. There on the landing, wagging his tail was Bruce. Poor thing had been left on his own for quite a bit of the day so was in desperate need of a walk and some general fuss. “Who’s a good boy then?” I said as I gave his head a gentle friendly rub. I saw that look in his eye that said, ‘Very nice but I need to get outside’. So I hastily chose the thickest and newest edition to my growing collection, these being called ‘bamboo’. I thought they would give me the most protection (and comfort) if things got awkward as we spoke to Dad. I needed to feel secure. I slipped a pair of blue rubberised pants over them which held me tightly and was glad to get back to wearing what I really preferred - a pair of loose-fitting elasticated shorts over the lot. Finishing the relaxed look I slipped into a pale blue jumper, which strangely matched my protection, and after a quick check in the mirror was on my way. I rushed down stairs, grabbed his lead and told mum I was taking him for a walk. Bruce seemed grateful and bounded ahead as we made our way out of the back gate towards the woods. It didn’t take him long to find a lamppost before we got to the trees and relieved himself with a long piss. Thankfully, on this occasion, I didn’t feel the need to join him. # Whilst out with Bruce I’d had a few thoughts and one of them was to check on something Doctor Laura had mentioned. Near the end of our session, she had read a synopsis from her computer screen that seemed to relate to my situation. It didn’t seem like a big deal. In fact, she seemed to think it quite normal. So, when we returned home, thinking it might help with explaining things to Dad, I tried looking for it on my laptop. I ended up finding a similar article on Wikipedia. *While some use diapers to achieve or enhance sexual pleasure as part of a kink or fetish, others find diapers to be a source of non-sexual positive feelings, such as comfort, relaxation, nostalgia, as well as being loved or cared for. *Wikipedia entry Although not necessarily the precise piece that the doctor had advocated, this seemed accurate, addressing both nappies (diapers) and reflecting my own views. Of course there were some things I didn’t like - the word fetish for instance (it sounded so seedy) – but in general those other few descriptive words seemed to cover quite a lot of what was going on in my head. It had become obvious that the drugged dummies had intensified mine and Terry’s state of mind, which I found fantastic and obviously liberating. But there again, we’d just done the same thing without such help, which we both enjoyed on another level – it was just fun. Weirdly, it had been instigated by Terry but I was happy to go along with his needs as they ran close to my own. Nonetheless, because of the way the pharmacist had talked up the widespread use of dummies I was surprised that there appeared to be no reports of others experiencing similar effects. (Strangely I was missing having a binkie between my lips). When I returned to the kitchen, where Mum had started making a meal, I was surprised when she said that Dad was at the police station and wouldn’t be back for a while. “Has he been arrested?” My body went cold. Even though I knew he’d done nothing wrong just the thought of him having to deal with the police scared me a little. A nervous spurt shot into my fresh padding. Mum smiled, “No love, nothing like that” She came over and gave me a hug. She let me see the text on her phone.   New developments. Police need to chat. Back as soon as poss.             Typical Dad, when you want more info he keeps it to the absolute minimum. (mini-mum... maybe not as funny as it once seemed) “We’ll wait until he gets home before we eat, then we can tell each other all our news. We have quite a bit to chat about... don’t we?”  She ruffled my hair and indicated for me to leave the kitchen as she was busy getting things prepared so I went into the lounge and grabbed the TV remote. As I sat down on the sofa Bruce came and sat at my feet. The slightly sweaty extra padding felt really nice. My rubber pants seemed to softly whisper that it had been a hell of a revealing day. Don’t ask me how that came about because it was all in my head, it was a feeling, it was, well, now I’ve said it out loud, probably nonsense. I’d turned on the TV but wasn’t actually watching because so much was going on in my thinking. Would Dad understand? What did the police want? Was Mum just as guilty as Avril? What the hell did the police know? Why are my nappies so nice to wear? Did I look cute wearing them? Why do I keep wearing them when I could go back to my briefs? How come the Shrink seemed to understand so quickly? Laura didn’t seem fazed by any of it, should she have been? Do I have a FETISH? Why am I missing having a dummy in my mouth? I’m sixteen, yet prefer wearing a nappy... what’s wrong with me? At that moment, the thought “what’s wrong with me” struck me more forcefully than ever before. The Doctor had explained that using and wearing nappies is something many people (or at least some) actually enjoy. I wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t help comparing my choices to how others might react—it felt as though everything was my fault. I kept thinking that if I had just refused when Mum first put me back in nappies, none of this would have happened and we wouldn’t be in this situation now.   Bloody Hell, it is all my fault... I should have just put up with a wet bed. The trouble is... I’d worn the nappy gladly. I might have objected but not with any force or determination, the idea settled fairly easily in my head... and then comfortably around my waist. It was a neat match – something I needed and something that made sense. I massaged the front of my shorts. I could feel the slipperiness of the tight fitting nappy cover and the slight bulk of my reassuring disposable underneath – yes it was fantastic. That earlier spurt of pee that turned into a torrent and soaked the bed proved I needed a nappy; Mum was correct in making sure I wore one at night... but why am I continuing to wear one? These new bamboo ‘recyclable disposables’ have a surprising ‘comfort fit’ that stretches and surrounds the groin hugging and offering the added bonus that once used they aren’t just going to landfill sites. A great addition to the range providing they don’t fall apart in the wash. # At that moment there was an advert on TV for Pampers Baby-Dri Pants with a toddler joyfully running around with his mum gleefully chasing her little darling as he proved what a ‘big boy’ he was. My mind identified with that little tot. That was me. That was how I felt when wearing a nappy. Zzzzaaaapppp. It actually felt like I was being zapped by a bolt of electricity and into that commercial. My body tingled and it all made sense. I was that toddler. I wanted that freedom. I liked that freedom, it felt nice and, at the same time, wanted my stuffed animals to come and join me watching the programme. I was both that little boy on screen and another tot playing with him and we were having such a great time. His mother, my mother, any mother was smiling down whilst watching affectionately as we ran around in just our sweet comfy baby undies. I wanted Terry sat with us playing with our toys on the floor dressed just like that happy little chap... like me. Our nappies meant freedom, we didn’t have to worry about anything, we could do what we had to do without stopping... it was a release. To me it demonstrated that right there in front of me was proof (?) that nappies were good for every body – one way or another. I wanted, erm, um, I wanted... I wanted to be a kid again and just play... Then Dad walked in. # He didn’t look annoyed or angry after his visit to the police station and he smiled and said “Hi” to me as he took off his shoes, hung up his jacket and made his way into the kitchen. I followed, eager to find out his news before we told our own. He moved up behind Mum as she worked at the sink washing up a few items and gave her a hug and kiss on the back of her neck. “Well, welcome home to you too,” she sighed just a little too sexily for my liking. “Right,” Dad said after another tight hug, “I’m sure we have a lot to talk about, so, I’ll just go and change...” “The meal will be ready when you come down.” Mum interrupted. “...and then we’ll share our latest... okay?” I helped set the table, Bruce found his spot looking at his feeding bowl waiting for it to be filled, which I did. He was hungry and wolfed the lot down before we’d even started ours. Dad returned looking quite relaxed now he was out of his work suit and had donned a pair of jeans and a casual green jumper, he looked more at ease than I’d seen him for quite some time. Dad asked us all to sit down at the table before the meal was served so that we weren’t discussing things with our mouths full. “Okay,” he started, “they’ve found Avril and she’s in custody.” He looked at us both for some reaction but, as we both had equally ‘exciting’ news we just nodded; me with a bit of relief although I’m sure Mum felt it even if she didn’t say anything. Dad continued, “She has admitted that she and her boyfriend were the creators of those drugged dummies but I'm afraid John, you were the first and only one to be subjected to them. Between the two they had decided, because of all your positive comments, you’d be an ideal ‘guinea pig’ to test them out on.” “Oh bloody...” Mum irritably stopped herself from swearing. “The police found a small but rather advanced lab in a nearby lock-up and confiscated what can only described, and I’m using the police term here, as a rather advanced number of amphetamine-enhanced child soothers.” “That bloody woman if...” Dad indicated for her to settle down and I could see she was absolutely seething but knew she was powerless to do anything about it. “Now, she is being held at a police station in the capital but her boyfriend has done a runner and she says she has no idea where he’s gone. However, as he is from Belarus originally, he may well be on his way there.” Dad continued. “Now then, she’s admitted to attaching her and her boyfriend’s ‘research’ onto the back of the legitimate marketing that the other companies were carrying out so everything appeared authentic and above board.” He paused to see that we were taking his news in. “She also said that Johnny here was the best, most enthusiastic responder to all that was given to him to trial...which I suppose is a backhanded compliment...” he saw Mum’s hackles rise. “Perhaps not, but the police have checked all the items we’ve given them and all, apart from the dummies, have proved to be just what the companies had said they were... so no hidden substances or...” There were nods of acknowledgement from both me and Mum but there was also a strange feeling in my stomach – they’d chosen me to try their druggie stuff out on because I was so compliant and enthusiastic about everything. I might have had a few doubts before but now for the first time in all of this I really felt used. Gullible. They had no idea what they were testing out on me... and Terry as it turned out... but I mean... I could... erm... Oh god... I’d given the damn thing to Terry so... I felt sick, abused, guilty and worst of all... stupid. My heart was pumping and head spinning... was I also to blame? “The different flavoured dummies were different strengths of the compound they used to see which would be best for rolling out to a larger appreciative crowd. Apparently she said she was sorry but the police still don’t know exactly what it was you’ve taken.” # Dad looked at Mum and then me as if to say “Well one of you start” but for a moment I don’t think either of us wanted to go first. Mum plucked up her courage and launched into our session... the bits she was involved with. “It was... hard... shaky... revealing... more difficult than I thought it’d be talking with a friend.” She sighed. “But there were things eventually said out loud that had only been unidentified, erm, hidden agendas” she took a deep breath. “Perhaps not all that hidden actually but...” I didn’t want to stop Mum but once again she seemed to have shrunk a little with the weight of all that had happened. The realisation of being called to book by the Doctor and the truth about her son, me, maybe had led to an unintentional liability. So, despite all that was in turmoil in my head I had to say something. “Dad,” I hoped he didn’t mind me interrupting her, “I think, erm, no, I mean... the Doctor thinks that I have an appreciation for nappies and such stuff.” There I’d said it and wasn’t sure I could look Dad in the face anymore but it is what the psychiatrist had more or less concluded. There was quiet around the table for a few seconds, even Bruce panting seemed to have stopped, as what I’d just confessed was taken onboard. I was desperately trying to remember what I’d just looked up in my room and was annoyed I hadn’t brought it down with me to show him. Anyway, I wasn’t sure that he would know exactly what I was admitting to so I had to look up and try to gauge a reaction. “Hmmmm!” Was all I heard as he looked to Mum for anything further. On second thoughts, I wasn’t sure if I should have said anything but it was out there now. “Yes, it was her professional opinion, even based on just the one session... however it was intense. She concluded that Johnny simply loves wearing nappies and all the things that are attendant to them.” There was no disagreement from her she was just relaying the Doctor’s conclusion. Mum had regained a bit of her strength and debating abilities as she then set about rationalising all that had happened in the therapist’s office. Dad didn’t seem to miss a beat. I didn’t detect much of a reaction even with Mum’s agreement on my assessment but she carried on as if that was just one of many points. It was all quite detailed, and although she wasn’t there for my bit, she had assessed the situation perfectly. Mum knows everything, even if she doesn’t know it! # Although Dad occasionally nodded throughout Mum's explanation, I sensed that nothing she shared was particularly unexpected to him. He maintained a thoughtful, appraising gaze in my direction, as if weighing up my initial statement. Having already spoken my mind, I felt no urge to interject during Mum’s energetic account and instead let her continue uninterrupted. As she spoke, I found my attention drifting. My thoughts gradually shifted away from the conversation at the table, and I became preoccupied with what Dad’s ultimate response would be. It was difficult to imagine him simply accepting everything without question—there was little chance he would just smile and say, “Well that’s okay then,” as if nothing unusual had been revealed. Instead, a wave of anxiety washed over me at the possibility of punishment. Would he really be happy with his sixteen year old son wanting, or preferring to wear nappies? The thing is... it didn’t seem an unreasonable inclination to have. Not that Dad and me have any great history of any scary levels of discipline. Don’t forget ‘Johnny’s a good boy’ and a stiff talking to has only ever been my rebuke since a toddler. However, once that worry took hold, I could not help but wonder what forms of discipline Dad might devise. Once again my anxiety took over and suddenly felt the warmth of pee seeping into my nappy. Yes I definitely needed my padding... however... Incredibly, wetting myself had become the most routine and expected part of my day. Whether I was excited, nervous, anxious, or even frightened, it didn’t seem to matter—whatever emotion (or come to think of it – lack of emotion) my nappy always ended up absorbing a trickle, a spurt or a flood. I scarcely registered the act itself; the leakage happened so automatically that it felt way beyond my control. What truly stood out to me, though, was the sense of gratitude I felt for the thick padding and protection my nappy provided. Far from feeling embarrassed, I found genuine pleasure in having such security. The sensation of the nappy—its bulk and softness—brought me comfort and reassurance, making me pleased to be wearing it - almost like a badge of honour.  Despite the way I thought... the possibilities of Dad’s discipline began to worry me because, I don’t think he’d ever been all that keen on me wearing a nappy. I don’t know for certain because it was a decision led by Mum so, although he knew I needed them with my constantly dripping dick, he wasn’t necessarily onboard with all the rest of it if truth be told. That was the thing; I’d embraced the total package. The ‘grown-up’ element of taking charge of a problem, making sure I was doing the right thing by wearing a nappy to cut down on laundry every day. Hoping, from my reviews, that someone, somewhere, who like me had this problem, would benefit from those evaluations. Then when the items got more and more childish I took to them with relish – they were fun, they were comfy, they tapped into my juvenile predispositions without me being aware I had such inclinations. Without necessarily being aware of it I loved the slide back to being a little kid. I don’t remember ever feeling the need to protect my teenage self from succumbing to having to wear any of the things I was asked to try. If anything, I wanted more... and still do but with police involvement... that has had to take a backseat. However, the need for protection around my groin did not and has not disappeared. As Doctor Laura quickly surmised, I love my nappies. # After Mum’s exhaustive and detailed account we both ended up looking at Dad to see what, if any, his reaction would be. Dad is a very studied man he doesn’t usually let temper control his response; however, this was also a very emotional time for me and Mum so perhaps he would have a different approach. “Right, well, all that brings us up to this moment.” That was not the thing I thought he’d lead with. “Doctor Answah said there were no other symptoms that could cause your condition... that they discovered.” He added as if not quite discounting that there might be. “However, there is obviously ‘something’ and we need to get to the bottom of that.” We looked at him as if he was hearing a different story. After all, had he not been listening to what had been said and was just thinking about, well, an alternative that we thought had been covered? “It can’t be just the fact that you like nappies,” Ah, Dad was on track, he was mulling everything over whilst we’d only been looking at the psychoanalytical part of the problem. “There must be a reason, a traceable reason, why you started peeing in the first place.” He took a thoughtful moment. “I can see how things have developed and brought other things to the fore but, and here I’m hoping, that there is another explanation as to why all this started in the first place.” “STRESS,” Mum stressed, she was adamant that was the main reason for at least the start of my problem “We went over this with Laura, and that seemed the most likely prime mover.” She was repeating herself but wasn’t sure Dad had taken everything on board. “Johnny put himself under immense pressure to make sure he got the results he has achieved but there has been a toll.” “Yes, I understand that may have been the cause but...” Dad was struggling, or so it seemed, to find an alternative, “what if it was something that just happened to coincide with the same timeline?” “Love,” Mum was holding Dad’s hand, “I hope you’re not denying what the doctors... two different types of doctor at that... have already concluded.” There was a huge sigh from Dad. “I just don’t want Johnny to suffer from...” “Dad, Dad, please,” I had a full soggy nappy but I needed to speak as a teenager and not a little kid (even if I would have preferred to let the grownups sort it all out) “It wasn’t the first time.” # Dad looked a bit shocked. “What do you mean?” “Well, erm, I have wet my undies before and hidden the fact.” All eyes were now on me. “I, ummm, have occasionally wet my underpants and pyjamas and managed to hide that fact... not a lot of times... but not only once either.” “Go on,” my parent’s seemed to speak as one. It was a strange sensation because, though I’d already confessed this fact to Doctor Laura, I hadn’t in fact mentioned it to Mum because she wasn’t in the room when I had done so. I could feel the warm blush of embarrassment now I had finally spoken the truth, and I don’t think my uncomfortable wiggling around under their scrutiny helped. I felt very awkward indeed, my soggy nappy was receiving far too much attention with my squirming as I tried to explain. “Well, I’m embarrassed to say that, um, over a couple of years...” “YEARS?” Dad and Mum exclaimed in unison. “Erm, yes. Look, it wasn’t a significant amount just a bit of dampness but I was embarrassed about it so never said anything... that was until it got to, well, a very wet bed and then there was no denying it. Sorry!” Although their eyes were on me I just couldn’t look them in the face. There was a moment of silence and then Mum came over and gave me a hug. “So you’ve been dealing with this for months... years and we never had any idea?” I shivered as I shook my head. She could see I was more than a little upset at the turn of events and gently pushed on the front of my shorts. “I think we should leave it there for the moment because you definitely need a change before we eat.” I heard Dad sigh; there had been a lot to take in and in truth it seemed we’d only just begun. It was like a switch: All my teenage bravura and certainty that all had been sorted and now I could, no, now we all could just get on with our lives had suddenly evaporated. It was like someone had pressed rewind on the remote control and I felt as if I was tumbling back to an earlier time. I trembled, my mind fogged, this felt weird. All that was left was the soggy disposable that swished and drooped inside my protection. Was that what I really had become? The confidence I’d had just moments before had now departed and I was back feeling like a lost little boy. Mum must have sensed something more was happening because she quickly guided me up to my room and helped me off with my sodden load. I felt awkward and that I couldn’t handle anything. With my jumper and shorts removed she could see that the disposable was in a terrible distressed state and it was only thanks to the tight blue rubber pants that I hadn’t leaked everywhere. As Mum gently disposed of the sopping mass I couldn’t help feeling guilty about the torture I’d no doubt put them through – although that might have been just guilt about other things. # I burst into tears. It had all been going so well, or so I thought, but now my head was saying - You’re too little to deal with a wet nappy never mind anything else... let mummy take care of you. I didn’t know what to do but I was shaking. I felt so vulnerable and small and incredibly overwhelmed by the day and needed to find a place to hide but Mum was being Mum and seemed to understand this bizarre shift. Once out of all the wet stuff she didn’t send me to the bathroom she went there and returned with a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth. Slowly, as I sobbed, she cleaned my raw area and dried me off before applying lashings of cream and a huge cloud of powder. She grabbed a fabric nappy from the pile and as I sucked on my thumb gently slipped it under me, pinned it into place, before slowly pulling up a pair of my baby blue plastic pants. She patted it all down and smoothed it out. “Okay sweetheart, I think we’ll put dinner on hold for the time being.” She wiped my forehead. “Just try and get some rest and we’ll sort things out later... okay?” It wasn’t really a question because she pulled up the duvet and tucked me in. I hadn’t said a word, just sobbed but the atmosphere was still loving. She didn’t pull out the thumb embedded between my lips as I nursed for a few seconds before sleepy time took over. Oh you poor thing. Your father and I need to have some serious discussions. # tbc #

Hello and thank you for your lovely comment😊 I have quite a number of other stories in this 'completed' section as well as another 'on the go' in the new section. Hope you find one or two to enjoy and again a big THANKS for your comment, it's greatly appreciated. Hugs

Ffrances deserves more fun      89. A New Toy Ffrances was a real handful when she was being a toddler. That was something Tess hadn’t even thought about, she’d just assumed it would be a lot of fun looking after a little kid. But when the kid was trying to put everything in sight into her mouth and ended up with half of it on her face, she started to remember that babysitting could be a lot of work. But Tess really liked Ffrances, and she didn’t want to make extra work for Gabby, so she did everything she could to help the little one. “You can make our breakfast,” she told Gabby. “I’ll help her.” She laughed a little at herself then. She knew that she couldn’t boss Gabby around, and she would never normally do something like that. Maybe it was all part of the game. So she tried to clean Ffrances’s face while the baby was still making more of a mess. And then she picked up the fork, and teased the baby with one mouthful of food at a time, making sure that each one had a different mix of bacon, sausage, egg, and toast on it, so that it was always something new and interesting for the little one. By the time they had finished eating, she was sure that they both had quite a lot of food spread on their clothes. But they could wipe their faces clean, pick off the big bits, and she was sure the rest would come off in the wash. Dabbing at spatters of ketchup with a damp cloth didn’t make them clean, but it meant that at least their clothes wouldn’t leave sticky marks on whatever they touched next. “I think she’s getting into this a bit too much,” Gabby commented. She was the grown-up today, and she had mostly managed to avoid getting any food on her. “Maybe she should go back to–” “No,” Tess snapped. “She’s the baby today. That’s what we said. And I got a little sister to look after.” She helped Ffrances out of her seat, and gave her an arm to lean on while they moved towards the lounge. For a little one, she seemed to be quite good at walking. But Tess was sure they could change that later. She knew that Ffrances wanted this more than anything, to be a real baby. And she knew that Gabby would try to make some excuse for her to be an adult again. Tess just wanted them both to be happy, and she was ready to keep on doing what it took to make sure that happened. This was going to be fun. As soon as they entered the lounge, Ffrances was bounding over to the tree. It had been there for ages, even before Tess went away, but she hadn’t really noticed how big and sparkly it was before now. It was plastic, not a real tree, and there were lights and baubles hung all over it. At the top there was a glittering five-pointed star, and at the bottom the branches were bent upwards by the pile of presents. There were more boxes than Tess could count, large and small, all wrapped in shiny foil paper. Ffrances grabbed one and started shaking it, obviously excited to see what was inside. She dropped it pretty quickly, and then grasped for another. Tess was a little more reserved in her enthusiasm. She stood in the door for a second, resisting the temptation to run over and start opening them up. She was amazed at how much Ffrances was acting like a real kid, and that was interesting enough to keep her attention for now. “Tess?” Gabby whispered, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. Tess looked up, and followed her cousin back into the kitchen. It seemed like this was going to be a grown-up talk, very serious. Tess wasn’t a grown-up now, and she didn’t want to think about serious things when it was Christmas and all her presents were right there. But she still knew that she needed to make sure that everything was perfect. It was like the first real Christmas for her little sister, and she was determined to do this right. Ffrances would be happy enough looking at the shiny paper for a few minutes. “What’s up?” Gabby flashed a brief smile as Tess fidgeted, and it took her a second to work out why. “Excited to start opening your presents, little one?” Then Tess could only nod, slightly embarrassed. She wanted to be good and look after Ffrances. But it was Christmas day, and she was looking forward to the presents so much that it was hard to think about anything else. Gabby made it quick, just asking a few things. And it was no surprise what she wanted to talk about. She wanted to make sure Ffrances was happy, and she was trying to persuade Tess that she didn’t need a baby sister to have fun. But Tess knew exactly what she had to say to that: she wasn’t interested. If Gabby wanted them to play at being little kids, it had to be both of them. By that point it was already hard for Tess to remember how it felt to be a big girl; but she knew she could end this if she really wanted to. So she let her emotions run away with her, laughing and blushing. She was still thinking about her thinking; and she knew she would learn a lot, when she grew up enough to understand what she was learning. And that made it a whole lot more exciting for her. But the thoughts at the front of her mind were all about the presents, and what might be in them, and what she had to do to look after her little sister. She said no to Gabby. She said she was going to make sure Ffrances had the best Christmas ever, and that was her job. She said she would do everything she had to do so it wasn’t any more work for Gabby; and she knew as she said it that all the work would be fun as well. It wasn’t something she had to do; it was something she wanted to do. Something that she would really enjoy, even if most people would call it work. She was determined to do this now, for herself as well as for Ffrances, and she wasn’t going to let anyone persuade her different. When they came through into the lounge, the first thing Tess did was hug her little sister, and help her to open the parcel she had been shaking. Inside that one she found a tiny doll, and Ffrances hugged it eagerly even though it was a plastic doll that was a lot harder than a real baby. Tess stroked the baby’s hair as she looked at her doll, and giggled at the irony. Gabby was treating Tess like a baby, Tess was looking after Ffrances, and now Ffrances had a little baby of her own, small enough to clumsily hold in her arms. Then it was Tess’s turn to open something. She had a lot of presents, and she didn’t know which ones were hers. It was tempting to pick the biggest one first, but she could already see the name on the big blue box that took up half of the space under the tree. She decided to go for a little one instead, reasoning that it was about the size of box that a ring or a necklace might come in. It could be super cute, or it might even be a magic ring! She thought that she was being a little silly there, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what a magic ring might do. Sure, it might have been not magic at all, but that was such a boring possibility that it seemed to slip out of her mind right away. And she knew that when she was more grown up she was really going to enjoy thinking about stuff more; like how she kept on thinking silly things like that. “Do you want that one?” Gabby asked. “Do you need any help?” Tess just shook her head, and turned the gift over and over until she could find the edge of the paper and start tearing it apart. “It might be a magic ring!” she said, and she knew right away that she had got Ffrances’s attention, and Gabby’s too. She blushed when she realised she was the centre of attention, but she was having so much fun that it didn’t really matter. “What do you think it does?” “I don’t know,” Gabby said. “But I know that when you’re so little, it doesn’t matter if it’s magic or not. You’ll be so excited when you open it – or when you get any new jewellery – that you want me to help you put it on right away, and it makes you feel even more like a sweet little baby girl.” “Yep,” Tess blushed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew now that it was something Gabby had packed for her. This was some kind of trick, something to make her feel more like a baby. But she wanted to know what the magic ring was, and she wanted to keep on playing. Deep in the back of her mind she was aware of Gabby’s attempts to manipulate her, but she was enjoying this too much to just stop. She wanted to have fun, and she wanted Gabby to feel good too. So just this once, she thought, she could go along with it and see what happened. It would be nice to look back on later however it turned out; she could learn more about what kind of things magic could do. “Yep,” Tess repeated. “We are that little.” And she knew as soon as she said it that she didn’t have a choice now. The idea of opening a magic ring was too exciting, it filled up all her thoughts so that she couldn’t think of anything else. And she knew that whatever was in this box, it was exciting enough that she would have to try it on. Even if it was an evil magic ring, she would have to try it. That was its own kind of excitement, and she knew that she would have so much to think about later. She tore away the wrapping paper, and found a little plastic box inside. It wasn’t like  a ring box, it didn’t look so fancy.  But there were pink hearts all over the outside, and she couldn’t wait to find out what was inside. She fumbled with it in her haste to get inside, and dropped it on the floor. But she grabbed it up as quickly as she could, and started tugging at the edges again, so eager to find out what her present was. If this was how excited a little kid could be for presents, she already knew that she wanted to be littler next Christmas as well. Eventually Tess found the right space to pull on the little box and it clicked open. It wasn’t a ring inside,  and she was really surprised by that. She had been so sure, but that just went to show that she didn’t know as much as a grown-up. Still, she had spent so long opening this present, and she couldn’t wait another second to try it on. She kind of knew that was what she’d agreed to feel, but it was still an irresistible urge. Just knowing where those feelings came from didn’t make it any easier to resist them. And finding that she was helpless just made Tess more excited. She pulled the pacifier out of its box, and put it in her mouth right away. There were ribbons attached to it, or some kind of strape that looked like it might go around the back of her head. It wasn’t like the one currently clipped on the front of her onesie, but she wanted to know how this new kind of one felt. “What’s this for?” she asked, and then laughed. She was doing exactly what she was supposed to; she knew that now. And that in itself was funny. “Can you help me with…” “I didn’t expect you to get one of these,” Gabby said, and she was laughing. But Tess didn’t care, she just wanted to try the new pacifier. “It’s like a strap so it doesn’t fall out of your mouth when you get distracted. Would you like to try that? You’ll have to wave at me if you want to take it off.” Tess waved eagerly, and laughed as her cousin clipped the thing onto her head. She was right; Tess couldn’t just spit the pacifier out now, she had to keep on sucking. And that just made her feel even more giggly than before. Then she turned back to her baby sister, who was already grabbing clumsily at the presents in front of her. She couldn’t tell which ones had her name on, that much was clear. But Tess just hoped that Ffrances would be able to find something as much fun as this new paci. They had only opened one present each, but this was already the best Christmas ever.

84. My Presents Tess did a twirl for us, showing off her outfit before she sat down for breakfast. Any worries I might have had quickly faded away once it was clear she was happy to be little for me. I hadn’t even finished putting some food on a plate for her when Ffrances repeated her trigger phrase, and Tess said her own. They were both partly regressing now, back to the ages that they had chosen. Ffrances said three, while Tess was more comfortable being eight. I wished she could have chosen a more suitable number; but this was always going to be a journey. I just had to make sure that she enjoyed it, so she would take a little step further next time. Then it was my turn to try out the triggers. I hadn’t had an opportunity to test this one before, so I wanted to be sure I understood how it should work. I’d thought hard about what I wanted to say, and had decided that the best test would be something simple. Something she had no reason to object to. I decided to go with the one that I’d decided on when I first found out that we wouldn’t get a chance to do this before she came home. I told her that she was little enough not to realise that it wasn’t actually Christmas now. Young enough to trust the adults to tell her what day of the year it was. “Yes,” Tess answered. “We’re that little.” And a second later the effect was clearly visible on her face. Her expression changed to one of pure joy, and she was bouncing up and down in her seat, eager to look at her presents. She just had to agree that she was that little, and she would feel whatever I had told her. A quick glance told me that Ffrances was feeling it too; she had already decided that she would leave Tess in charge of what she felt, and had said the extra trigger to make that happen. I was still nervous about what it would do to such a strong dominant to have all her choices taken away, but I could see that she was enjoying it that far. I would have to keep it relatively tame for now. Still, I wanted to test how far Tess was willing to go. So I tried something I wasn’t so sure she would want to try. I told her that she was too young to use cutlery herself, and would need an adult to feed her breakfast. This time Tess hesitated, but I was pleasantly surprised that she didn’t say no. Instead, she said she might be interested in trying that later; but that only Ffrances was that little now. I wanted to argue that it wasn’t fair, and that Ffrances hadn’t agreed to anything like that. The suggestion was only made for Tess. But by then I had enough on my hands as my girlfriend made a spirited attempt to eat a plate of scrambled egg, beans, and waffles with her bare hands. After a few seconds, I could see that Tess was as good as her word. She had dashed over the table and moved Ffrances’s plate out of reach, before picking up the little plastic fork to help her little sister eat. I couldn’t tell what was going through her head; whether she was genuinely in the mindset of a little kid looking after her baby sister, or if this was some kind of perverse power trip from being in charge of someone. Either way, I was sure Ffrances would be just as disturbed when she got back to adulthood. I resolved to offer her a break as soon as possible, if I could do that without disrupting Tess’s regression. “You can make breakfast,” Tess said as she turned back to me for a moment. “I’ll look after her.” I couldn’t argue, and finished serving up another plate for Tess and one for myself. On impulse I arranged sausage and mushroom on Tess’s plate to make a silly smiling face. She giggled when she saw it, and seemed as happy as ever. And much to my surprise she had no trouble eating her own breakfast and looking after her little sister at the same time, grabbing a bite of her own when Ffrances was busy swallowing her food, and then making airplane noises as she conveyed the next bite from Ffrances’s plate a second later. Before long we had all eaten, and breakfast seemed more satisfying than usual when I could see my little enjoying it so much. Even Ffrances seemed to be happy for now. Dealing with her feelings when she realised how she had behaved would be tough; it seemed a completely degrading experience. But we could cross that bridge when we came to it. As long as she was okay, I could say “I told you so” and take whatever punishment she saw fit for my schadenfreude. That would make her feel better, I was sure. And for now, the important thing was to make sure that Tess decided she was willing to do this again. The presents were all in the lounge, stacked up beneath the tree. And I could see Tess’s eyes light up when she saw the pile. There were all kinds of things in there, and I was sure that if I could get her excited about them, I could lead her to a state where she would feel more and more childlike the more she played. Once it became a habit, she would start to slip into that littlespace more easily, and before long she would be my baby. It was all about taking the first steps on that path. Ffrances dashed to the pile of shiny wrapped parcels first, crawling the last few steps. Tess was obviously excited, but she was still more concerned with making sure that her little sister was okay. I could respect that, but I knew it would diminish her enjoyment of the day considerably. She was being pressured to act like an adult again, even though it had all been her own choice. If she wanted to feel really little, I needed to take that responsibility away. But how could I do that? If I argued she would be hostile, and I couldn’t use the new trigger because she had to agree to every suggestion.  The only thing I could think of was my original plan. It wasn’t perfect, but it would at least discourage Tess from giving Ffrances any really inappropriate suggestions. I put my hand on her arm and motioned for her to step back into the kitchen for a moment, where we could talk without Ffrances seeing. First I tried the truth; pointing out that this wasn’t really something Ffrances was comfortable with, and she shouldn’t have to go through with it just to satisfy Tess’s curiosity. But she didn’t seem to understand me; perhaps she was already too little. So I asked just how small she wanted Ffrances to be. They were both babies, after all, and I was sure that Tess would be able to enjoy it more if she accepted my suggestions herself rather than forcing a dominant to go through with those degrading things. She argued, of course she did. Ffrances was still in diapers; Tess had big girl undies. And that meant she was older, so she should be the babysitter. And she said she loved it. She was talking more simply now, using childish language and focusing less than usual. I wanted her to be able to understand, but I didn’t want to make her grow up. But I at least reminded her of the obvious line in the sand; that Ffrances might be wearing diapers to help her look like a baby, but that was only to make the scene seem more real for Tess. She didn’t need them, and there would be no suggestions otherwise. Similarly, she wasn’t allowed to force Ffrances into using a pacifier, crawling, or being unable to talk. Even if she enjoyed using the trigger, Tess needed to respect Ffrances’s limits. “I know,” she said, and then stopped to laugh again. But she said mmore before I could repeat myself: “I’ll only play what she wants to play. I’m babysitting, and it’s all about making her happy.” “Just so long as you understand,” I said. “But you might think about putting a diaper on yourself. You’ll be surprised to have an accident first if you try to make her. Just like a baby. And then I’ll have to punish you.” She said she understood. I wasn’t sure she did, but there was a deterrent now. I would let Tess play with Ffrances a little, but there were limits on what it was appropriate to do with someone who wasn’t really into this stuff. And perhaps along the way, Tess would start to get used to little accidents taking her deeper into her headspace; slowly turning it into a habit. Then we were back in the lounge, while they took turns to open their presents. Tess read out the labels on each one, making sure that Ffrances picked the ones that were for her, and helped her to get the shiny paper off. She really did make a good babysitter, but that wasn’t as close as I might have hoped to being a good baby. Next time, something would need to be different. I was sure I would think of something. Ffrances’s first gift was a doll. Just a simple thing. That was one that I had bought; a lot of the things in the pile were accessories that would help Tess to feel more like a little kid. But I knew that Tess could get upset if she thought I was giving her baby stuff. So I labelled them as being for Ffrances, and trusted that at some point in the future I would be able to make Tess curious or jealous.  She would choose them by herself, so I would face much less resistance from her perceived need to be a big girl. Tess’s present was a pacifier. It was a fancy one, and had come in a plastic box like a ring. I thought it seemed rather ornate when I’d taken it out of the outer cardboard packaging, but I was sure she would be surprised at what she found. I even managed to slip in another trigger; making her feel extra excited and eager to use it. If she thought it was a ring, she was more likely to agree; and it went exactly as planned. The only thing that seemed weird was when she opened the box and lifted it out. I apparently hadn’t been as careful as I’d thought when ordering these gifts; and I really hoped my baby wouldn’t realise what she was holding.