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Watching "Soap" for the win 😀

I did a haul on Sunday. Like mentioned earlier I can't fit everything in the bin as it's shared and I only throw out on trash day.  I use black bags.  When I start driving more often, I can spread my trash all over the country.  (In  bins of course... no idea why I need to mention that...)

34qucker is on Fetlife under the same handle, and he posts his art there as well. 

Chapter 4: Back at home, Jill moved through the front door with quiet efficiency, careful not to wake Jack as she brought everything inside. The house felt calm again—familiar, safe.   She set the grocery bags down, then gently lifted him from the stroller. He stirred just slightly, his head resting against her shoulder, still caught in that soft space between sleep and waking.   “Let’s get you comfy,” she whispered.   After a quick diaper change—her movements gentle, practiced, and unhurried—Jill carried him over to the playpen. She laid him down carefully, adjusting the soft blanket beneath him and tucking Flopsy close at his side.   Jack shifted once, letting out a small sleepy sound, his pacifier still in place. His fingers curled loosely into the fabric of the blanket, and within seconds, he settled again.   Jill lingered for a moment, resting her hand lightly against his back.   He really needed this nap, she thought, watching the slow rise and fall of his breathing. It’s been a full morning.   There was something about seeing him like this—completely at peace—that made everything else feel quieter.   She stepped away softly, making sure the monitor was on before leaving the room.   ⸻   Once back in the living area, Jill grabbed a notebook and a pen, settling at the table. The shift from caretaker to planner came naturally now, though it still carried its own kind of weight.   “Alright…” she murmured under her breath.   She flipped to a clean page and began working on the guest list for the at-home birthday celebration. Names came to her steadily—friends, familiar faces, people who had been part of their journey in one way or another.   She started drafting RSVPs, carefully writing out names and addresses, making small notes beside each one. Who might bring something, who needed a reminder, who would definitely show up early.   Her handwriting slowed for a moment as she paused.   I want this to feel special, she thought, tapping the pen lightly against the page. Not just a party… something he can feel. Something safe. Something happy.   Her mind shifted to decorations.   Lisa.   Jill made a small note to reach out. Lisa’s shop had already helped bring the nursery to life so beautifully—there was no doubt she’d have ideas for the party too. Decorations, themed tableware, maybe even little party favors for the guests.   That’ll be fun, Jill thought, a small smile forming. Another outing for us.   She leaned back slightly, considering her options. Maybe later today, after his nap and lunch… or tomorrow if he needs more rest. She didn’t want to rush it. Jack did best when things felt steady, not packed too tightly.   Her phone buzzed lightly on the table, pulling her attention.   A message from Mrs. Turner.   Jill opened it, reading through with a thoughtful expression. Mrs. Turner wanted to stop by for a visit—a simple chat, nothing formal.   Jill hesitated for a moment before typing a response.   It’s so nice out… she thought, glancing toward the window where sunlight spilled across the floor. It’d be better to get him outside again.   She suggested meeting at the park later in the week instead.   A moment later, the reply came back—enthusiastic agreement.   Jill smiled faintly. That’ll be good. For all of us.   ⸻   With her notes written and plans loosely set, Jill closed the notebook and set it aside.   For the first time since they’d gotten home, she allowed herself to pause.   She moved to the couch, settling into the cushions and turning on one of her shows. The familiar voices filled the room, low and comforting, blending into the quiet hum of the house.   But even as she watched, her mind drifted.   To the bakery.   To the way Jack’s face had lit up at the cakes.   To how small he’d seemed when he tried to hide behind Flopsy.   To how quickly he had melted back into comfort when she reassured him.   Her chest tightened slightly—not in a painful way, but in something deeper.   He trusts me with so much, she thought.   It wasn’t something she took lightly.   Every choice she made, every plan she put together—it all came back to that. Making sure he felt safe, understood, cared for in a way that truly reached him.   Her eyes flicked briefly toward the hallway, toward the room where he was sleeping.   We’re building something good, she told herself quietly.   The party plans, the decorations, the guest list—they were all coming together piece by piece.   And underneath it all was something even more important.   A home that felt right.   Jill exhaled softly, letting herself relax into the moment as the show played on.   For now, everything was exactly where it needed to be.   A couple of hours slipped by quietly, the house resting in that soft, mid-afternoon stillness. Then, from down the hall, came the faint rustle of movement.   Jack stirred.   He blinked sleepily, taking a moment to orient himself before slowly pulling himself up, his small hands gripping the playpen bars. He peeked over the top, hair slightly tousled, pacifier still in place.   “Mama…” he called softly.   From the couch, Jill looked up almost instantly. Her expression warmed the second she saw him.   “Well, hi there,” she said gently, already on her feet.   She crossed the room and knelt beside the playpen, meeting him at eye level. “Did you have a good nap?”   Jack gave a small nod, still waking up, his eyes a little heavy but brighter now that he’d found her.   Jill reached in and lifted him out with ease, settling him against her chest. He leaned into her without hesitation, arms loosely wrapping around her as she carried him back to the couch.   “Come here,” she murmured, easing down into the cushions with him in her lap.   For a few quiet moments, they just stayed like that—Jack tucked against her, Jill gently rubbing his back, letting him fully wake up at his own pace.   “I was thinking,” Jill began softly after a bit, glancing down at him, “maybe we go to the park later this week. Mrs. Turner wants to meet up.”   Jack shifted slightly so he could look at her, his expression calm and receptive.   “Sound okay?” she asked.   He nodded again, a little more certain this time.   Jill smiled faintly. “Good. I think you’ll like that.”   There was a small pause, and then she added gently, “Do you want to nurse for a bit?”   Jack didn’t hesitate. He gave a quiet, almost instinctive nod, settling closer.   Jill adjusted slightly, making sure he was comfortable, her movements slow and familiar. As he relaxed into the moment, the tension of waking faded, replaced by that steady, grounding comfort he’d come to rely on.   For Jill, there was something deeply calming about this too—the quiet closeness, the way he settled so completely. He trusts me, she thought again, not for the first time that day.   Jack’s eyes drifted half-closed as he relaxed, his body soft in her arms. The room was quiet except for the faint background noise of the TV and the gentle rhythm of their breathing.   Time seemed to slow.   At some point, Jack shifted slightly, a subtle change in his posture. Jill noticed it right away—she always did—but she didn’t interrupt the moment. Instead, she continued to hold him, gently rocking him as he finished.   When he finally pulled back, calm and settled, Jill smiled softly and adjusted him against her shoulder.   “Alright,” she said quietly. “Let’s get you cleaned up again.”   She carried him over to the changing pad she had set up on the living room floor. The routine was familiar now—unhurried, steady, and gentle. Jack lay there, looking up at her, a little more awake now, the earlier grogginess gone.   Jill worked with care, speaking softly to him as she went. “There we go… almost done.”   Jack watched her, his earlier embarrassment nowhere near as strong this time. The moment felt easier—quieter.   Once finished, Jill fastened everything into place and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.   “All set,” she said warmly.   She lifted him again, holding him close for a second before moving back toward the stroller. “We’ve got one more little adventure today.”   Jack looked at her, curious but calm.   Jill settled him into the stroller, adjusting the straps and making sure Flopsy was tucked in beside him once more.   “Ready?” she asked with a small smile.   Jack gave a soft sound in response, somewhere between a hum and a nod.   Jill grabbed the diaper bag, took one last glance around to make sure everything was in order, and then headed for the door.   The day wasn’t over yet.

Chapter 63 Well, I want to talk about what happened last summer during those six weeks, and what that might mean moving forward. Just remember—none of this will happen unless you're completely comfortable with it. I have a feeling you will be. One reason I think that is because, before this year, I always changed your nighttime diaper as soon as you woke up. But lately, things have shifted. You prefer to wait until after breakfast, like you want to stay in your soggy nighttime diaper a little longer. That change tells me something. I looked at her gently and asked if I was right—if she truly wanted to stay in her diaper a little longer. She didn’t speak. Instead, she gave a small nod, her cheeks glowing red with embarrassment. I continued, and if you could, you'd probably choose to be in a diaper all the time, no matter if it was wet or messy, wouldn't you? Once again, she nodded, her face still flushed, silently confirming what words couldn’t. So, what I'm hearing is that—even if you wanted to stop wearing diapers when you didn’t need them—you feel like you couldn’t. Is that right?' Once again, she didn’t speak. All she could do was nod, her face turning an even deeper shade of red than before. Betsy, there's nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to liking diapers or using them. You're not alone—I'm sure there are others who feel the same way you do.  Just like there are people like me. I love seeing you running around in just a diaper. I like it even more seeing you running around in a wet or messy diaper. I love changing you from a wet or messy diaper. I also enjoy it when I spread diaper rash ointment on you bottom and then rub powder all over you. I also like it when I see you sucking your thumb or on a pacifier. So, you are not the only one that has strange likened. From looking at your face while I’m rubbing the ointment on you bottom and rubbing the baby powder between your legs and on your Vagina. That you enjoy it too, isn’t that the truth. Once again, all she did was nod. I looked at her and said, 'Would you like to hear my vision for us living together? I think you'll like it—and maybe even agree with it. But remember, you need to be completely on board. If there ever comes a time when you want to stop and say, I don’t want to wear diapers anymore, then we stop. The only exception would be if you're still having accidents while sleeping—then diapers during sleep, even if it's during the day, it would still be necessary. I looked over at her, and once again she simply nodded. But this time, her thumb was in her mouth, gently sucking on it—a quiet gesture that spoke volumes. Are you okay with everything I just shared?' I asked softly. Once again, she simply nodded—but this time, there was a faint smile curling around her thumb as she continued to suck on it. Alright, here goes. Of course, I’ll still put you into your nighttime diaper after I give you your bath. Then in the morning, I’ll take it off and clean you up so you’re ready to head off to school. If you want to take a nap during the day, I’ll diaper you again—and if you use it, which you do about 90% of the time, I’ll clean you up afterward. That routine will stay the same, no matter where we end up. Now, let me tell you what else I have in mind and see if you’re okay with it. Well, I like it when either your thumb or your pacifier is in your mouth, so when I am changing your diaper one of them will be in your mouth. Every night just before you go to bed you will be sitting on my lap having your nighttime baby bottle. When you are done for the day and you are not going to go back out and meet up with someone, you will be in a diaper. On the weekends from Friday night to Monday morning you will be in a diaper full time. Even if we are going somewhere, you will have a diaper on. When you are in a diaper the toilet is of limits. That is for both peeing and pooping. I know from last year that you have no problem pooping in your diaper. As I was explaining the rules to her, I suddenly heard a faint hissing sound. I glanced down at Betsy's lap—and to my shock, she was peeing through her shorts. I didn’t say anything to her at first. The silence hung between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. I let the moment breathe, giving her space to sit with everything I’d said earlier. Then, in a calm and measured voice, I resumed. You don’t have to give me an answer right now, I said, watching her closely. Take your time thinking it over. I paused, then added with a hint of knowing warmth, But I have a feeling you’re enjoying the idea—just sitting there, letting go. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide and uncertain. A flush crept across her cheeks, and she shifted slightly where she sat. One look at her face said it all—she was clearly embarrassed, caught between vulnerability and curiosity. I stood and extended my hand to her. She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and let me help her to her feet. Without a word, I led her down the gentle slope toward the river, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of water the only sounds between us. At the water’s edge, I knelt and carefully helped her out of her damp clothes. Her shorts and underwear clung to her skin, and I peeled them away with quiet care. She stood beside me, bare-bottomed and still, the sunlight dappling her skin through the trees. There was no shame in her posture now—just a quiet acceptance, as if the river itself had washed away her discomfort. I dipped the garments into the cool, clear water, swirling them gently to rinse out the evidence of the accident. The current tugged at the fabric, playful and forgiving. Once they were clean, I laid them out on a smooth, sun-warmed rock nearby, arranging them so they’d dry evenly in the light. Then I turned back to her and took her hand again. Her fingers curled around mine, and I guided her to the edge of the river. She stepped into the shallows, the water lapping at her ankles, and together we let the river finish what it had started—washing away the last traces of the moment, leaving only clarity and calm in its wake. Once we were finished at the river, I led Betsy to a smooth, sunlit rock where she could sit and wait for her clothes to dry. The forest around us was quiet, the trail empty, and I felt a quiet relief that no one had wandered by. She sat there bare-bottomed, serene and unbothered, as if time itself had slowed to match her stillness. Her shorts and underwear, now dry and warm from the sun, lay nearby. I helped her to her feet, then spotted a broad, flat rock about a foot off the ground. Lifting her gently, I set her down on it—just high enough to make dressing her easier and more comfortable. As I carefully slid her underwear into place, I noticed a soft smile forming on her lips, subtle but unmistakable. When her shorts were on, she looked up at me with quiet gratitude and said, Thank you. With her clothes back on, I lifted her once more and found a comfortable rock to sit on. She settled into my lap, her head resting lightly against my chest. We sat in silence, watching the river wind its way through the trees, the water catching glints of sunlight as it moved. After a few moments, she began to speak—tentatively, thoughtfully—about what I’d said earlier. I listened, then gently placed a hand on hers and reminded her there was no need to rush. This was a meaningful decision, a turning point, and she deserved the time and space to consider it fully.