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Baby Talk
Let your baby side show.
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Current Donation Goals
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April BillsRaised $370 of $400 target
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General FundRaised $10
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Posts
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By Hemlock The Vampire Cow · Posted
Hahah. When I was trying to picture how this scene went I thought on it for a moment then thought "These bitches would be so excited." -
By Rachael-Little · Posted
Ha yeah I’ve got one of those very close by -
I am glad things are improving, Eddie. I wish you a good future. -
By Lilboydiaper · Posted
Chapter 7 : Chris finally made it back home, the familiar click of the door closing behind him bringing a quiet sense of relief. The outside world—with its unpredictability, its people, its pressure—faded just a little as he stepped into his own space. He kicked off his shoes and let out a slow breath. Okay… just relax for a bit. You’ve got time. But even as he told himself that, the thought of tonight lingered in the back of his mind, steady and persistent. He wandered into the living room and dropped onto the couch, grabbing the remote. The TV flickered to life, and after a bit of scrolling, something familiar caught his eye—Dino Dan. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Of course,” he murmured softly. He settled in, pulling a blanket loosely over himself as the show played. The bright colors, the simple storytelling, the sense of wonder—it all had a calming effect on him. It was easy. Safe. Chris found himself watching more intently than he expected, the tension in his shoulders easing as the episodes went on. I’ve always liked this kind of stuff… There was no pressure here. No expectations. Just comfort. He hummed along quietly to the theme song when it came on again, barely even realizing he was doing it. For a little while, everything felt… lighter. — Eventually, he got up and wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring inside without really focusing. What do I want…? His eyes drifted to the shelf where he kept a few of his more personal items. He paused. Bottle… or sippy cup? The question lingered longer than it probably should have. Chris leaned against the counter slightly, thinking. I don’t feel… that small right now. There was a difference, at least to him. Some days felt softer, more vulnerable—others just… comfortable. He reached for the sippy cup. “Yeah… this is fine,” he said quietly. He poured himself some juice, the simple act grounding him again, and carried it back to the couch. Sitting down, he took a small sip, eyes returning to the TV as another episode played. He hummed along again, quieter this time, his foot gently tapping against the floor. For a moment, things felt almost normal. — Then his eyes flicked to the clock. The calm cracked just slightly. …okay. Time’s moving. Chris reached down subtly, checking himself—and immediately felt the difference. He froze for a second. Yeah… no. That’s not gonna last. The earlier comfort was gone now, replaced with a more urgent awareness. He stood quickly, setting the sippy cup aside. Definitely need to change before I go. There was no hesitation this time as he headed to the bathroom, the routine already forming in his mind. Long trip. Two buses. No chances. He opened the cabinet beneath the sink, scanning his supplies. His hand hovered briefly before settling on a more secure option. “NorthShore… yeah,” he muttered under his breath. Then he paused. …and stuffers. Just in case. Better safe than anxious the entire way. He gathered everything he needed and set up on the floor, laying out the changing pad with practiced precision. His movements were a little quicker this time, more focused—but still careful. As he went through the process, he could feel the shift again. The thicker padding. The added layers. The way it changed how he felt in his own body. …okay. That’s a lot more secure. But also— …a lot more noticeable. He sat back for a second after finishing, adjusting slightly, getting used to the added bulk. Then he stood, turning toward the mirror. Chris stared at his reflection. This time, the feeling was different. Softer. More vulnerable. He tilted his head slightly, studying himself. …I feel smaller. Not physically—but emotionally. Mentally. A little more exposed. A little more… delicate. His fingers fidgeted lightly with the hem of his shirt. Is that a bad thing…? He didn’t have an answer. But he didn’t look away. There was no immediate shame—just awareness. Curiosity. A quiet acceptance, even if it wasn’t fully understood. Chris let out a small breath and shook his head faintly. “Okay… focus,” he whispered. He cleaned up, put everything back in its place, and tossed out what he needed to. The routine helped steady him again, pulling him out of his thoughts just enough. — Back in his room, he checked the time. His heart skipped. Alright… it’s getting close. The calm from earlier was gone now, replaced with that familiar nervous energy. He grabbed his phone. Wallet. Keys. Checked the time again. Don’t be late. Don’t mess this up. Chris took one last look around his room, like he was grounding himself before stepping back out into the world. You’ve got this… A breath in. A breath out. Then he headed for the door. — Outside, the air felt cooler now, the afternoon slipping toward evening. Chris adjusted his bag slightly and started walking toward the first bus stop, each step carrying a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite separate. Excitement. Nerves. Hope. And underneath it all— Please let this go right… The journey had started.
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