Baby Talk

I just saw my first Northshore ad on  MSNOW. And I got an email about their event in Chicago for their "heroes" and longtime customers. I'm really impressed with how much they are doing to make diapers and those of us who wear them visible, normal and acceptable. And now in another post, colorful prints!

I was a late 70's baby, and I'm pretty sure my mom used pampers on me. It's what she used on my baby brother, and what I'd always try to steal and use.

Sorry it's so late in the day Looks like I might have accidentally deleted some text here… skipping mid-sentence from Gabby's speech to Ffrances's response. Still, I got that paragraph rewritten, so I hope you enjoy.     96. My Lucky Break “Gabby, Mrs Bracewell wants to see you.” The comment caught me by surprise, and for a second I didn’t even realise she was talking to me. It was just Carter again, but my mind went into a panic as I parsed the words. Bracewell? The Elder Dragon, feared by all staff, wanted to talk to me, and it was something too critical just to book an appointment through the office scheduling system? Again? I distracted myself from those worries for a moment thinking about the form of address. We mostly just referred to the boss as Bracewell, from some weird display of respect or fear, although I was sure I must have seen _Miss_ Bracewell before, in more formal contexts. Where would the intern have gotten the idea she was married? But that wasn’t the question I asked. “Did she say what it’s about?” I said, and realised that the nervousness was clear in my voice. I didn’t think I’d ever sounded like that in the office before, and certainly not in front of a privileged brat like Carter, who wouldn’t know discomfort if it jumped up and bit her. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble this time. Might be a chance for you to show what you can do. Earn yourself another badge on the flagpole, maybe.” She sauntered off like she didn’t believe in a change of command. I would never understand that girl. Sometimes she was making excuses and trying to avoid answering questions; but moments like that she had all the confidence of a natural Mistress; saying what she had wanted to say and then walking off, with no fear of a negative report. She didn’t seem to realise that I was senior staff while she was just an intern. I mean, all colleagues are cogs in the same machine, and the corporate policy for the Upper Ashfields development said that everybody has a stake in a valued community of knowledge-sharing. But in reality you still had to show respect to those above you. On the way to Bracewell’s office, I suddenly stopped. _A badge on the flagpole_, she’d said. That made no sense at all. It was a mixed metaphor, and a pretty opaque one at that. Someone who spent half her day in chatrooms should be better with common figures of speech. But the reason it had come to mind was that I’d heard the _exact same_ mixed metaphor before. Speech like that was something of a trademark characteristic of Mrs Doodlebugger, the erratic drunken landlady in one of my favourite serialised stories. And badges on the flagpole were how she always referred to what anybody else would call a feather in your cap. Was that why Carter was so confident? She was telling me that she’d caught me reading _The Baby Button_ in the office, and that she could try to get me in a lot of trouble if she shared it with anyone. But using the idiom would imply that she’d actually read it, not just glanced at it and scanned for salacious keywords. If she’d read in that detail, she must understand that there is nothing improper about age regression or its fiction, so why was she still mentioning it? None of it made any sense. I told myself that it had to be some kind of mistake. She’d said a different bunch of meaningless platitudes, and my subconscious had filled in a familiar error because I hadn’t remembered something so insignificant. That was the only answer that made any kind of sense; she wasn’t the one who had read what I was reading. Unless, perhaps, she’d read it and found herself intrigued, and now she was trying to find an excuse to ingratiate herself into the little community around here. Maybe looking for vulnerable subs so she could be their Mommy. Not really caring about what made littles special. No. I put that out of my head and told myself to ignore it. I had something important to do. Bracewell, it turned out, wanted to talk about the logistics of organising a large conference with all kinds of different attendees with different roles. I thought that we were talking about subtly different things, but I was sure my knowledge could help her. Everybody was scared of her, but it seemed like discipline wasn’t the real core of her duties. She knew what was going on, and what people were doing. She was considering organising an informal gathering, which had a lot in common with a conference or convention, but also a lot of differences. There were quite a lot of company sports teams and various social clubs within the Upper Ashfields offices, and apparently some of them had thought about organising events for a wider community of fans of whatever they were into. It always turned out harder than they thought, because the conference organising system, which organised room bookings and similar, wasn’t designed for things like that. But now, looking at some of the provisional documents I had submitted, Bracewell noted that I would probably be running into the same issues. She pointed out on my org charts why the system would get confused if the movie people weren’t classified both as clients and suppliers, which was counterintuitive and would lead to mistakes in data entry. “Thanks for pointing it out,” I said. “I’ll get IT on it. This is a huge contract, so improving these issues with the system can be a priority.” “That’s what I was going to suggest. But I also wanted to suggest that you offer your modifications to the social groups for testing. I know of at least one who are hoping to host an event towards the end of spring; and that would allow you to ensure the changes are fully tested before your event.” I couldn’t argue. A part of me was sure that she was just intending to ensure that her Joone fanclub gathering, or whatever it was, could have a working system for their events. But she’d gone about it in a way that benefited everyone, and allowed the company as a whole to become more effective. More than simple fearlessness or manipulation, that was the sign of a true Dominant. I had new respect for the Elder Dragon; even if she had been eating while we met, and as she spoke her fries had been absent-mindedly drawing smiley faces in the traces of ketchup and mustard on her plate. I’d seen brilliance in that meeting, I was sure. But right now I was racing back to my own office, painfully aware that I might have missed the most important part of my little girl’s evening. They were still sitting on the sofa. Giggly, excited, and unmistakably happy. Both of them; I guessed that the hypnosis must have been really powerful, to leave Ffrances herself grinning like that. I'd kept on expecting that she would need reassurance after what had happened last time, or would be unable to talk about it. But she had bounced back, and said that she enjoyed it. And she wasn’t showing any signs of anxiety at all. I had to agree that she had been right. She was so strong that she could face any kind of degradation and not let it bother her. It was a part of the scene, it didn’t make her any less of a domme, and she could genuinely decide not to worry about it. “I go potty!” Ffrances announced with a big grin. It really did seem like it was a big deal to her, and I could see how proud she was going to be about it. She was stronger than I would ever be, and she could completely throw herself into the role. She’d do whatever it took to help Tess be a baby, and even let herself enjoy it. That made me love her even more. “Me too!” Tess jumped up too, and her eyes went wide. “Come on!” She was blushing now, and even without knowing the triggers I could see that she was struggling not to use her diaper. She tried to press her legs together, but couldn't with the bulky padding between them. Instead she settled for pressing on the front of the diaper, blushing furiously, took Ffrances's hand with her free one, and rushed out of the room. It was adorable to see her trying to help her “little sister” when she was clearly so desperate herself. I was waiting on the edge of my seat until they returned, about ten minutes later. Tess was dancing, practically ecstatic. She had baby powder on her face, and quite a lot on her shirt as well. I had to assume that she had needed a change. And the two were giggling as well, going right back to watching TV. Neither of them had a single concern. Seeing this, the scenarios that the two of them came up with when I wasn't involved, I thought I should have let them do this all along. They were both happy, and that would make it so much easier for Tess to accept her baby side. And if she wanted a baby sister, I could try to treat Ffrances as if she were really a little. Two toddlers; with me looking after both of them. It would be a little weird not deferring to my Mistress, but if she could live with it then so could I. There was only one more thing I needed to do to make sure that everything went perfectly. I called up the shared phonebook app, which I’d set up when Tess first arrived so that Ffrances would have the numbers for Tess’s parents, or her school, in case she needed them. I wasn’t looking at those numbers now, but there was one that I was sure Ffrances would have added. It was right there, so I decided to send a text message. And, as humiliating as it was, I tried to write a grovelling apology. I hated having to do this, but it was worth it to guarantee that she would never stop being my baby. 97. My Revelation I had a lot of planning to do when I got home. It was already late, and my first task was to put a tray of lasagna in the microwave. Snacks in the office weren’t the same thing as a real meal. Tess and Ffrances greeted me like everything was normal; like they didn’t want me to know how much fun they’d been having. That stung a little, but maybe they were justified. Both of our regression adventures so far, the days when we made a big event out of it, had finished with me pushing Tess in an attempt to force her to be smaller, to the point she got upset. Once she’d called Ffrances to stop it, and I’d been the one punished; while the second time she had just called an early end to the party. Neither of those was a particularly big deal, but now I wondered how it would have gone if I’d simply allowed Tess the chance to regress at her own pace. I hadn’t seen any clues before that she actually wanted this, so I’d been under the impression that I needed to _make_ her do something in order to convince Ffrances of her consent. Now, it was possible that she would have played along anyway if I’d been a little more gentle. I didn’t think it was likely, but if it could be then it would have worked a lot better, not giving her a reason to fight back against me. I promised myself that I would pay more attention to her moods, and her needs, before tricking her in future. I would let her regress herself as far as she was willing to go, making sure that she was safe and comfortable the whole way; and then she would be more trusting so that I could push her the rest of the way. Ffrances was blushing a little, and after a few minutes she made some excuse to go get something. As soon as she was out of the room, I knew where I was looking. There was a magazine rack in the side of the coffee table; where a TV guide might have been kept in a bygone era. We rarely used it, but I had noticed earlier that two pieces of paper had been placed there during their playtime. They had read them carefully, and then put them aside as if they didn’t matter; perhaps even forgetting that they were there. And if I hadn’t seen these two playing over my improvised nannycam, I would never have stumbled across them. “You’re a toddler,” I read the first one. I could imagine Tess’s childlike voice reading out her words as I read it, and my lips might have moved, but I was careful to stay quiet. “You’re really excited about being allowed to use the potty now, but you don’t notice you need to go until you’re quite desperate. Each time you try you will be sure that this is the time you’ll make it, but you always feel like you’re bursting by the time you reach the bathroom, and as soon as you stop to open the potty lid you will find yourself going in your diaper instead. But a diaper change will always reassure you and make you feel safe, making you even more enthusiastic about next time.” So that was what Tess had made Ffrances experience. It seemed a little cruel to me, giving her hope and then snatching it away again. But Ffrances had been smiling while they played, and she’d certainly been happy afterwards. Perhaps this was what she liked; a convoluted little trick that she could try to find her way around but never quite escape. Like in bondage, when Mistress would leave just enough slack in her cords that with several minutes of concerted effort I could get one hand loose, only to discover that the position of my arms meant there was absolutely nothing it could reach. I needed to ask her about that at some point, if I could just find a way to broach the topic without giving away that I had been spying on them. I expected the note Ffrances had written for Tess to be something similar. But as I read it, I thought that they had probably each come up with the kind of things they would enjoy themselves; projecting their fantasies onto each other. That would certainly be an interesting situation. This letter was written out in childish capitals; probably to add to the atmosphere. “You’re a toddler, but you feel really proud of being able to look after your little sister. You know you feel really proud every time you take care of something, whether it’s making dinner or helping me to use the potty. You will be a little clumsier than usual at most tasks, spilling a little when you cook or getting sauce on your clothes as you eat, but never anything that would be hard to clean up, and that will just reassure you how mature you are for completing such a challenging task. You also feel grown-up every time you manage to use the potty like a big girl, because it’s a new thing to you, and it feels incredible when you manage it. But you don’t notice when you need to pee until you actually think about it. So if somebody mentions the potty or asks if you need to go you will be able to tell how much you need to go, but if you don’t think about it before you get desperate you will only realise as you start to use your diaper.” I smiled at that. It sounded like she’d really thought about it. There was something kind of poetic about that one; giving Tess a challenge, and a reward for completing it, but making it something she couldn’t directly focus on. I imagined that when Ffrances had said she needed to go, Tess would have realised suddenly that she did too. So if she’d just taken away her ‘little sister’s potty training, Tess would have ended up wet as well. A booby trap of sorts, like she had caught me with that time in the garden. And in a way, I could imagine a certain frisson of shame from something like that. Realising you’d been the seed of your own failure could be like a drug. If I were ever to let myself be regressed again, I thought that this kind of scenario might be the best way to let me enjoy it. I returned the two letters to their hiding place like I had never touched them when the microwave’s insistent bleep summoned me back to the kitchen. The rest of the evening was pretty calm, and what I saw of the babies was so relaxed. It was like the house had a complete change of tone, and that was really a sobering thought. A reminder that the best way to turn Tess into the baby she was meant to be would be letting her become the baby she _wanted_ to be first. “I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered to Ffrances when we were tucked up in bed, only a little over an hour later. “For staying out late? Depriving me of your lips?” “For being a jerk about the baby thing. I mean, I saw the whole strict dominatrix thing in you when you were a teaching assistant, before I even knew you’re into women. It’s too easy to think it’s just an act when I see you break that role. But I was reading the latest update of _Mommy’s Little Devil_ and it kind of reminded me people can have more than one side. If you want to do that stuff again, I promise I’ll let it play out naturally. You’re a Service Dominant, I’m a Mommy Domme. And I want to get better at it, whether the little is Tess, you, or both. If that’s what you really want." “It is.” There was a pause then, long enough that I started to wonder if she was drifting off to sleep. Then a little huff of breath against my hair, which might almost have been a laugh, though I couldn't think why. Maybe she was just more tired than she looked. “And you could make a wonderful Mommy some day. You’ve got all the time you need to watch someone it comes naturally for, just don’t let your pride stop you listening. You’ll be great.” That warmed me more than the duvet did. I would have hoped she might see that I was already a natural, but I couldn’t argue that after the mistakes I’d made already. And I promised myself that I would watch her more closely; trying to better understand the balance between assertive and comforting for a natural dominant. And while I was wondering what I could still have to learn, she continued: “And… I have to ask, do you actually know what a service domme is?” “A dominant who wants to be served,” I answered quickly. “Like with an old-fashioned servant-Mistress relationship. It’s one of the only labels that’s actually straightforward. Unlike Daddy Dom, which is somehow a completely separate thing from Dominant Daddy in some communities. I never understood that. But service? Yeah, it’s a very traditional dynamic, and it suits you well.” “Gabby?” she asked with a little smirk, possibly planning some prank at my expense. “You’re adorable. I love you.” She pulled me closer and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. I didn’t know if I should say “you too” and hug her tenderly, or lower my head a little to address the nipples standing proud through her nightshirt. I opened my mouth, putting off the decision of whether it would be for speaking or sucking, but moving my head seemed like too much effort. I was reminded again just how much power my Mistress held over me as every attempt to support my heavy eyelids quickly failed. * * * I purred and stretched, eyes lazily opening. This was the best way to wake up; sunlight drifting in through the blinds like a warm blanket, not a spear stabbing my eyes, and early-morning alertness only slightly slowed by the fog of post-orgasmic bliss filling my head. I took deep breaths and the mist behind my eyes started to clear away despite my attempts to hold on to that euphoria. As my memories came back, I realised that I didn’t remember having sex last night. We must have gone at it hard; maybe she was using a strap-on. I felt just a little sore, like she’d been pounding me for quite some time, and the bliss reached every nerve in my body. I just didn’t remember it. She hadn’t allowed me to wake up to enjoy it; but I was sure that the memories would be delicious if I could recover any of them. Just thinking about what she could have done to me without me knowing was intoxicating. I loved not knowing; and she had made sure I could still enjoy the afterglow. It took a few more minutes for me to realise that Ffrances wasn’t actually there beside me. I pulled myself out of bed and drifted through the house, fixing breakfast for myself and for Tess. I found a note on the magnetic whiteboard outside my bedroom. Ffrances had an early start today, and had made me sleep in so that I wouldn’t be so much of a distraction when she was trying to get ready. She also added a little note to make my day at work a little more fun. She wanted me to wear a butterfly vibe to work; the bluetooth one that she could operate at any time through my phone. And I knew as soon as I read the words that I needed to decide _now_. If I didn’t say no while my eyes were still on the instruction, I couldn’t disobey. I crumpled the note up in my pocket. That would be fun for this afternoon; because I had made a slight change to my schedule for the day. This morning I had a very important meeting that was nothing to do with work. I put a little extra care into my outfit for the day. Smart-casual would be appropriate; I didn’t want to come off as too strict, or too serious, but I still needed to be taken seriously. I was ‘concerned mom’ if anybody looked at me, and I thought that was the perfect image. I called out goodbye to Tess, who was up to something on her computer, and then headed to the car. The vibe buzzed on the way, momentarily derailing my train of thought. As long as the app was running, Ffrances would know if my phone was on the home wifi, at work, or synced to the stereo in my truck; so she could have some confidence in where I was up to with my routine, and whether it was safe to ambush me with an unexpected wave of pleasure. In the car, she would know I needed to focus. That made it a perfect opportunity to practise my apology. Not just the regret, and making sure that I seemed sincere. But the emotions that I wanted to imply I was feeling, and the exact amount of information I needed to convey. We were meeting at Junction Park, fifteen minutes walk from Pine Ridge. Not close enough for Ffrances to see me out of her window, I reassured myself, but still not a venue I would have chosen. Still, I had to do this. I needed to protect my little girl, and now I was sure that the words I’d thought of were perfect.   Well, it seems she's changing tack a little, at least. After seeing how regression goes when she's not around, do you think she's finally learned to ask Tess and Ffrances what they want and just do that? Is she going to be a good Mommy, and can she overcome her pride enough to learn from a natural? What do you think the text message said?

It is only imports into the USA itself.

I have created a signature, but have discovered that the URL for topics change each time I change the title to update the chapter count. Is there any way to have permanent links to my stories in the signature?