Baby Talk

Christine by Long Rifle She ( Christine) hated her name, and though it lead to a few jokes she preferred to be called Chris. Chris was good looking, not stunning. But she was good looking enough to be hit on just about every day. Most girls her age, (she was 16 with beautiful red hair) would love the attention. Unfortunately she wasn't like most girls, she was a genius. And that's not a joke she was a genius, and life with a single but loving mother was difficult enough. They had money; the untimely death of her father had given them that ,so her mother was around the house constantly and hovered over her. She had changed since the accident. Becoming clingy, always trying to talk to her daughter as though she to might someday be taken from her. With that at home the only time she had to really think was when she laid down at night to sleep and school. She wasn't gay or anything but she did not have time for guys right now. So she shunned them when she could. This only made the jokes and teasing worse. She had her friends but she really wanted to be left alone. She thought about this as she slowly walked home, this was another of the few times when she got to think. As she was about to turn off main street she saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was a sign, kind of old looking really. She should go straight home, her mother freaked out whenever she was late, but she had gotten out of school early today so she had time to check this out. The door opened with a loud sqeak, and the inside almost made her turn around but her curiosity had peaked so she went in any way. what she would remember later was the bath robe, why was this man working in his bathrobe? But that really did not enter her mind now. She walked pass the rows of dusty nik naks and right up to the old man. "Hello?" she said. Chris waited for a few minutes and politely coughed. He seemed to be reading a book, she was about to say something when he looked up at her. "Yes?" "Hi. My names Chris and I just thought I'd...?" "See what I sell? Yes everyone does, and they all find what they need." He smiled and chuckled to himself. Chris thinking this was an inside joke just smiled "So what do I need?" This made the man smile even more "So you are smart! Most people beat around the bush but you just come right out with it, let me think....Chris....Chris..." He slowly rubbed his hand under his chin as he remembered."Oh yes; now I remember. You're the genius. And want you want more than anything is the ability to be allowed to think when ever you want! Right?" Chris was amazed, how did this stranger know what she wanted? But her thoughts were answered before she could voice them herself. "I'm a wizard, and no, no, no, only once, and yes, I can help you. All you need to do is tell me EXACTLY what you want." Chris smiled obviously this was some kind of joke. But she could go along with it. She tapped her foot and rubbed her chin, "Let's see....That's about it, I just want to lay around all day thinking, and only have my mother bother me when I need something." The old man laughed "Alright I can do that." "Wait a minute, I know how this works. I leave here and turn into a vegetable or a zombie or something, how do I know you will not do that?" "Geez, no trust anymore." The wizard said as he threw his hands up. "No, not a lack of trust. I just want to make sure I get what I want!" "Oh. Well then.... Okay I promise you'll get want you need alright?" She nodded her head and he smiled. "Fine have a nice day." "What? Is that it? no spells or dusts or anything." The old man looked at her, "Fine how about this," he franticly waved his hands over his head and started to sput gibberish. "There are you happy?" Chris looked over herself and said to him, "I don't feel different!" "Well this spell was really rather large and would be to much to happen all at once, over the next few days you will notice a difference. I have allot to do so please go; come back when you can. Bwahahahahahah!!" She left the store still smiling, that laugh probably wasn't a good sign she thought. Maybe I'll steer clear of this store from now on. She'd had fun though, she still smiled as she walked thru the door to her house and quickly to her room. She had made it just in time, as she dropped her books on her desk she realized she had to use the bathroom. As she sat down on the bowl she smiled as she peed, thinking maybe today she would be able to be left alone for a while. Those hopes sank as her mother burst into the room. Chris sat there as her mother asked her how her day went. After the regular amount of time had passed her mother stopped talking and left. Chris smiled to herself as she wiped. Realizing as she did that her mother would probably love to do that for her. Back in her bedroom she sat on her bed and started to read. As she did she felt herself slowly falling to sleep. Her mother gently woke her a few hours later it was dark out side and it was raining. Chris looked at her mother and said, "I had the strangest dream, that everyone was so happy, we were at the beach, but then it started to rain, so we all had to leave." Chris saw that her mother was looking at her oddly. A slight smile on her face. "What?" Chris said. "Do you need any help Chrissy?" Chris looked up at her mother she knew she hated to be called that, in fact she hadn't been called that since she was a little girl. Chris decided alittle sarcasm was in order. "No, MOMMY I don?t need your help." "Well okay honey just be more careful next time. Here's some clean pants and some panties, let me know if you need anything else." Chris was stunned as her mother walked out of the room, what was that all about? Then the smell hit her. The smell of drying pee. She sat up quickly realizing the smell was coming from her, looking down she saw her pants. Her WET pants, she almost cried as she stood up. She had wet the bed, How could she do that? Then the real problem hit her. Her mother had seen it! Worse her mother had acted like it was normal. Quickly she stripped her pants and panties off, and walked to the bathroom. After a quick shower she went back to her room and dressed. She chuckled as she put her pants on, it was as if she was a toddler again. Back when her mother really had to set her clothes out for her. Sitting down on her bad she looked over at the pile of wet cloths on the floor. Well I might as well clean them now she thought. Picking them up she carried them down to the laundry room. As she walked down the stairs she caught a whiff of her pants. The smell really didn't bother her. It made her feel odd, almost happy. The smell reminded her of something that she couldn't quite place. By the time she got to the bottom of the stairs she was mildly excited, and embarrassed. She was sure she shouldn't feel that way about pee, so she found herself checking to make sure her mother was no where to be seen and set her clothes on the dryer. She bent over as if to pull up her socks and inhaled deeply. As she did she had a sudden urge to pee, she could hold it in; but barely. As she crossed her legs she though, "I can just wet my pants! No one will ever know, I'll just throw them in the wash." By now she was slowly moving her legs, "I'm doing the pee pee dance!" She thought to herself. Just as she was about to wet she heard her mother start to walk down the stairs. She tried to move but she realized if she did she would wet again. Her mother rounded the corner and saw her daughter standing by the dryer, "Hi sweetie, did you bring your pants all the way down here so mommy could wash them?" Chris nodded trying to act normal, she tried to stop squirming but if she did the feeling got even worse. Her mother turned to drop the pants into the wash. Now was her chance to run, she might make it. But a sudden urge stopped her. Her face grew red as she felt an urge to wet her pants. "No,..... no!" she thought, I am not going to do that. Then the voice offered up something else. Her face brightened; "Yes that would work! Mommy will never know I did it!? She reached over to a stack of towels and pulled one off. She smiled as the excited tingle grew even stronger. Pulling the towel between her legs she pulled it tight up under her crotch, and as she squatted alittle she closed her eyes. Ahhhhhhhh! And that's how her mother found her, she had turned around to get some soap and saw her 16 year old daughter; eyes closed and a grin on her face, as she sat down into the towel. She was just about to ask her what she was doing when she found out. The towel slowly turned darker then started to leak on to the floor. She stared as her daughter bent her knees and sighed, but just as she was about to start screaming at her something changed in her. Her mother set the soap down and waited for her to be done. Chris slowly opened her eyes and saw her mother staring at her, with her hands on her hips. "What mom? Do you need something?" Then she looked down at the floor and saw the puddle. She was so embarrassed that she dropped the towel; it landed between her legs with a splat. She backed up to the wall. Maybe her mother didn't know, yeah maybe she could lie alittle. "Oh, I just spilled some juice in my lap. Don't worry I'll just clean it up my self." Chris beamed, she was okay. She even smiled a little. Now her mother got angry. "Now listen young lady, don't lie to me. I know what you did. And right in front of me like a baby. Well I will not have you pissing all over my house. You will either act like a big girl or no more potty for you!" Then she reached out and started to take Chris's clothes off her. Chris was to stunned to say no, as the last thread of her clothes where taken off she was told to go clean up and get ready for bed. Quickly she ran up stairs and into the bathroom. The entire time wondering why she was acting so strange, as if part of her mind was changing. It seemed all she could think of was acting infantile. Entering the bathroom she turned on the light and stood before the mirror. Again she smelt pee as it dryed on her skin, and again she was over come by the urge to pee. This time she would not have to worry. The bathroom floor was tile, and therefore easy to clean. She slowly lowered herself to the floor and squatted, she just let a dribble come out so it didn't splatter all over. But just as the puddle started to touch her feet she heard her mother coming up the stairs and straight into the bathroom. She had enough time to stand and get over the bowl before her mother walked in, but since she had kept peeing this just added to the mess as it splashed all over. Her mother just looked at her; Chris knew she was dead now. "What did you do?" Her mother asked. Chris looked up at her mother and cringed, she did not have any good answer to explain why she had peed on the floor. She felt so embarrassed, tears formed in her eyes as she tried to tell her mother how sorry she was, but all that would come out was "Mommy, sowwy fo peepee." This caused her mother to literally melt. Chris could not believe to change that came over her mother. The scowl became a gentle smile, and she reached out and stroked her daughters hair. "That's okay honey, everyone has accidents. Just try better next time." At this she helped her to clean the floor, and then she filled the tub. As Chris sat in the tub she was treated to the first bath from her mother in many years. She used the time to think about what was going on. Since the smell of pee was gone her mind was much clearer. She had never felt like that before. She stared at the wall as her mother washed her hair, she had peed herself. Right in front of her mother; what had she been thinking? It was as if it was normal. Just thinking about what had happened made her blush. Chris could not believe her mother, she had thought she would have gone ballistic. And whether or not she would have killed her, someone should have dropped! If not Chris from the beating then her mother from the vein in her head bursting. But here she was; smiling like this was normal treating her like she was her little child again. By now the bath was done and her mother was helping her out of the tub. She looked up at her mother as she slowly dried her hair. Her mother saw her gazing at her, a look of shame on her face. She got down on one knee and wiped water away from her eyes. "Don't worry honey, sometimes it just takes a little longer, you just need to let time take it's course. Soon you'll have forgotten all about this." Chris looked down at her feet, she still didn't understand. Her mother was acting like she had just been potty trained or something. Continuing to stare at the floor she said, "But mmmoommmm, I'm not a baby, why do you keep treating me like one?" At this her mother gently placed her hands on her head and tilted her face up so she could see into her eyes. "No you are not a baby sweetie, you are mommy's big girl. Just because you have an accident doesn't make you a baby, but......" Chrissy's mother pulled her head to her chest, gently stroking her back she whispered, "You can be what ever you want, and if you want to be a baby once in a while then that's okay with me. Just don't pee on the furniture. Now let's get you dressed and into bed." Taking Chris by the hand she lead her to her room and selected a pair of pink panties and a long pink shirt. After tucking her in she reminded her that if she had to get up and potty she had to remember to lift the back of her shirt up so it wouldn't get wet. Chris smiled at this, "Okay mommy." Then her mother turned off the light and left. As she lay in her bed she thought back over what had happened all day. It had been pretty much normal till she went in that shop. Maybe it was stress, yeah that was it. She should slow down and not take life so hard. So she had peed a couple of times, maybe her mother would take the hint and stop treating her like she was some sort of tart. Either that or she'd put her in diapers, as this thought passed through her head she went to sleep. That night Chris slept like a baby,....literally. Blinking in the morning light she looked at her clock, "Oh no I?m late for school!" she thought, but at almost the same instant she remembered that it was Saturday. She stuck her head under her pillow and rolled over onto her back, as she stretched her legs she smelt something. Pee. At this she pulled the pillow off her head and looked at the floor, maybe she had forgot to pick something up off the floor last night. But there was nothing on the floor. Then it hit her, the floor; it was different. It was carpeted. Her room had never had carpet in it. She instantly rolled over and shot up in her bed. Her whole room was different, the walls where brighter and her dresser was smaller; and pastel pink. What was going on she wondered. She threw her blankets off and jumped out of bed. A cool feeling around her crotch got her attention. Looking down she realized she had wet the bed. Not alittle, but allot. This and the state of her room caused her to feint. The sound of her daughter hitting the floor got her attention, running she opened the door to Chrissy's room and found her laying next to her bed on the floor. Thinking she had simply fallen out of bed she rushed to her side and slowly woke her up. Darkness, swirling slowly then a rising feeling. A moment of warmth then everything got lighter. As her vision returned she found her mother holding her in her arms. "Oh mom, I had the weirdest dream. My room was different, and..." but she was cut off she could now see that her room was still different, and by the smell of it her pants and bed were still wet. Her mother picked her up and set her on her feet. She then proceeded to take her shirt and panties off. With a quick slap on the butt she told her to go cleanup and get ready for breakfast. Rubbing her butt she walked to the bathroom and was shocked to see in the corner by the tub a potty. Not a regular one, a child's potty(the regular one is by the sink) slowly she walked up to it and looked it over, "no it couldn't be mine?" she wondered. But when she dropped the seat her name was clearly written on it. Proudly in big letters it proclaimed "Chrissy's potty!". Taken aback she stared at it. Then she said aloud "Well I'm not using it." As she started to brush her teeth her mother came in with the sheets off her bed and dropped them down the chute. "Well looks like someone is growing up, brushing your teeth all by yourself!" Then as she rinsed her mouth out her mother dropped her pants and sat on the toilet. "Well honey, want to show mommy how big you are? Come on and show me what the pottys for." Caught between a rock and a hard place she slowly sat down on the plastic bowl. She must have peed allot last night because no matter how hard she pushed she could not get anything to come out. Her mother let loose and the splashing seemed louder then normal. She blushed as her mother looked down at her but the sound of the splashing caused her to suddenly pee. Not allot but it was enough for her mother to be happy. Her mother lifted her off the potty and wiped her clean, then she grabbed her hand and walked her back to her room to get dressed for the day. Chris now stood again as her mother started to dress her. First she pulled something out of the dresser, Chris thought they where panties. But as her mother held them out to her she realized they where Pull-ups.                                                                                                                           The End

A paragraph does not a chapter make.  At a minimum, you should give yourself 3,000 words per chapter to develop your characters and move the plot along.  

Thanks for the explanation. when dominant characters use words like cummies, referring to a man's penis as a clitty, ETC. Do mommies really talk to their adult babies like this or is this just some silly trope that people found from some bad porn flicks? I can't believe that people talk to each other this way in real life. Even in fiction, the dialogue has to be believable but some things just aren't able to cross the line into the willing suspension of disbelief.

Chapter 6 : The time had come. Today was the day Ryder had been waiting for—the day everything would break open. Today, he would begin his quest for the Fountain of Youth. His alarm shattered the darkness at 4:45 a.m., its shrill insistence ripping him from uneasy sleep. For a heartbeat, he didn’t know where he was—only that something demanded him now. Outside his window, the city stirred: the low growl of engines, the hiss of tires slicing through wet pavement, a distant siren fading into the early hours. Morning was coming whether he was ready or not. Ryder lay still, staring at the cracked ceiling above him. His chest tightened with the familiar weight of fear and resolve tangled together. There was no turning back. Every doubt, every sleepless night, every whispered argument with himself had led to this single moment. He moved fast. Too fast. Clothes pulled on with unsteady hands. Boots laced tighter than necessary. His backpack waited by the door, already packed—maps creased from constant folding, supplies counted and recounted, the worn envelope from his father tucked deep inside. As he slung the bag over his shoulders, its weight settled into him, heavier than fabric and gear. It carried expectation. Memory. Hope sharpened into desperation. Nerves buzzed beneath his skin, sharp and electric, threatening to unravel him. But beneath them burned something stronger—resolve. Fear could wait. Regret would have to follow. He took one last breath of the familiar air, tasting dust and old walls and everything he was about to leave behind. Then he opened the door and stepped through, crossing the first threshold into the unknown. The hallway outside was dim and narrow, smelling of dust and peeling paint. Each step echoed too loudly, as if the building itself were watching him go. He pulled the door shut with a soft click that landed harder than he expected. He didn’t look back. If he did, he wasn’t sure his legs would keep moving. Outside, the city was half-awake. Streetlights cast long, tired shadows across damp pavement, and the air carried the bite of night mixed with exhaust and lingering rain. Ryder adjusted the straps of his backpack and started walking, every step carrying him farther from what little stability he had—and closer to everything he feared might be waiting. The bus ride blurred past in fragments: flickering fluorescent lights, empty seats, a driver who didn’t ask questions. Ryder watched the city slide by through fogged glass—shuttered storefronts, silent intersections, the warm glow of a diner just opening its doors. Somewhere behind him, his mother slept, unaware. The thought tightened painfully in his chest. He held onto it anyway. This is for her, he told himself. This is for him. By the time he reached the docks, the sky had begun to pale. The river stretched out before him, wide and dark, moving with slow, deliberate intent. The air was thick with the smell of oil, rust, and water that had seen too much. Boats rocked gently against their moorings, ropes creaking like whispered warnings. And there—at the edge of the dock—stood Captain Chase. The riverboat captain carried himself with the quiet steadiness of a man who had already buried too many people he loved. His broad shoulders were worn by years of sun and rain, but it was his eyes that told the real story—softened by loss, sharpened by survival. When his gaze met Ryder’s, there was no judgment there. Only understanding. He noticed everything. The way Ryder held himself like someone accustomed to carrying weight alone. The careful silence. The grief pressed just beneath the surface, never spoken, always present. The captain didn’t ask questions. Fathers knew better than that. He had been waiting, hands resting on the rail of his riverboat as if he’d known the exact moment Ryder would arrive. His silhouette was solid against the growing light, hat pulled low, posture calm and unyielding. When he turned fully, his eyes met Ryder’s with steady assurance. “You’re on time,” Chase said. Ryder nodded, swallowing hard as he stepped onto the dock. The city felt impossibly far away now. Ahead lay the river, the jungle, and the unknown. Behind him—everything he was leaving behind. Captain Chase gave a small, approving nod. “Then let’s not keep the river waiting.” Ryder took the final steps toward the boat, the wooden planks creaking beneath his boots. Somewhere deep inside, something shifted—an invisible line crossed, a life divided cleanly into before and after. There was no turning back now. Chapter 7 :  Chase welcomed Ryder aboard his vessel—an aging riverboat with peeling paint and scarred wood, its decks worn smooth by years of hard travel. It had seen better days, but it still held together, stubborn and dependable, much like the man who captained it. The only other passenger stood nearby. Chase introduced him as Marshall—his partner in every sense of the word. The two men moved around each other with an easy familiarity, finishing each other’s tasks without speaking, their shared history evident in every glance and gesture. They were explorers, both of them, bound by a deep love of discovery and a restless hunger for what lay beyond the map’s edge. Yet something was missing. A space left unfilled. They had no child to pass these moments on to—no one to teach the river’s language, no young voice to ask questions at dusk. Ryder felt it in the quiet way they watched him, not with expectation, but with something gentler. Hope, perhaps. Or remembrance. Chase led Ryder through the boat, giving him a full tour. The narrow kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and old spices. The engine room hummed with restrained power. At the wheel, Chase rested his hand for a moment, reverent, as if greeting an old friend. Then they reached a short corridor of doors. Chase stopped. His voice lowered. “The last door on the right,” he said, meeting Ryder’s eyes, “you never open. That’s for Marshall and me. No exceptions.” There was no threat in his tone—only certainty. Ryder nodded immediately. He understood when not to ask questions. “And where will I be sleeping?” Ryder asked. Chase led him to a modest cabin tucked away from the main deck. Inside was a narrow bed, a small closet, and a tiny desk bolted to the wall. It was simple. Sparse. Quiet. It reminded Ryder of home. Of his mother. Of a life reduced to the essentials. Something in his chest eased. After the tour, Chase told him he was free to rest while he and Marshall made the final preparations. Supplies were checked. Lines secured. The river waited. Ryder sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the muted sounds of movement above him—the creak of wood, the low murmur of voices. The boat felt alive beneath his feet. Soon, they would cast off. Soon, there would be no land to return to. Chapter 8 :   Ryder couldn’t stay still. He paced the small room Chase and Marshall had offered, but his mind wasn’t on comfort—it was on the door. The one door tucked in shadow at the far end of the corridor. What lurked behind it? A dungeon? Wild, vicious animals? Or something far worse, something he couldn’t even imagine? Every instinct screamed at him to stay back, but another, darker part of him demanded answers. He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, a warning he couldn’t ignore. One step closer, and there was no turning back. Yet he knew—he had to know. Ryder crept down the corridor, every step echoing against the walls. Strange, unsettling noises seemed to come from all directions—whispers, scuttles, something just beyond the edge of hearing. His hand trembled as he reached for the doorknob. Heart hammering, he turned it slowly and pushed the door open, stepping into the darkness beyond.

Currently in a wet Kiddo Xtreme. May get out of it so I can get my apartment cleaned up a bit.   I started the weekend in a Tykables Potty Monster, changed into a Tykables Purrfect Cafe about halfway through the night. Changed into another Purrfect Cafe before church. I wore that one until about midnight, changed into the Kiddo Xtreme and napped for a bit.  (It's my turn to help count the offering for church this morning.)