In this forum you can ask questions of the DD community and get answers. Other members can rate those answers to help you find the best solution to your query!
Camilla listened and nodded her head it seemed like a good idea, "okay I think I can do that quick question when are you and Alice free I think it'd be nice to have a little meet and greet at the park or someplace where the girls can get to know each other, although maybe it should be at your house I don't want Madison Madison to have a freak out knowing that there's someone like her out there." Meanwhile Alice had stopped nursing and was listening in on the conversation thinking was there someone else like her.
One thing I’m noticing with my age regression is a preference for girly things like pink diapers and stuff involving princesses and fantasy. I’ve been watching Sofia the First in my little time and feel kind of like this show is healing a part of my inner child who couldn’t be herself. I should also mention I’m a transgender girl.
Chatper 99
I was surprised that Betsy didn’t dart back to our bedroom. Instead, she just shuffled forward, her dinosaur still tucked under one arm, and leaned gently against my leg. I placed a hand on her back, offering a quiet, reassuring touch.
After a moment, I scooped her up and settled her on my lap. She nestled in easily, her thumb still in her mouth, her body relaxed against mine.
Lena stopped by, I said softly. She wanted to ask what you’d like for dinner tomorrow night when we all get together.
Betsy blinked sleepily, listening.
I’m sure she’s a better cook than I am, I added with a smile. So you’re in for a dinner that tastes great.
Betsy gave a tiny nod, her thumb still in place, and leaned her head against my chest.
I glanced over at Lena and noticed her eyes shifting—back and forth between Betsy’s diaper and the thumb still tucked in her mouth. She wasn’t staring, just quietly observing, trying to make sense of the moment.
To ease the tension, I smiled and asked, So Lena, what kind of meals are you good at?
Her face lit up as she began listing dishes—roasts, casseroles, pasta bakes, and more. But when she mentioned hamburger gravy with corn on the cob, I saw Betsy perk up. Her eyes widened just a little, and she shifted in my lap.
I chuckled and looked down at her. Is that what you want for dinner tomorrow?
She tried to answer, but her thumb was still firmly in her mouth, muffling her words. I gently touched her hand and said, Sweetheart, take your thumb out and try that again.
Betsy popped her thumb out and nodded. Yes, she said softly. That sounds really yummy.
Lena smiled warmly. Then hamburger gravy with whip potatoes it is.
Lena leaned forward with a smile and asked, Have you named your stuffie yet? Every stuffie needs a name.
Betsy just shook her head, clutching the dinosaur a little tighter.
I gently reminded her, Sweetheart, when someone asks you a question, you need to answer with your voice—not just a shake of your head.
Betsy looked up at Lena, her voice soft. Sorry, she said. No… I haven’t named her yet.
Lena’s smile didn’t waver. You don’t need to say sorry to me, she said kindly. I know you’re still getting used to me seeing you like this. I just want you to know—you look very cute, just as you are.
Betsy blushed slightly and nodded.
Lena tilted her head. So… is your stuffie a boy or a girl?
She’s a girl, Betsy replied, her voice a little stronger now.
Well then, Lena said with a playful grin, we need to find her a proper girl’s name. Something special.
Betsy looked down at her dinosaur, thoughtful. The moment felt light, gentle—like a small bridge of trust had just been built.
Once the conversation shifted to naming Betsy’s stuffie, it was like a dam broke. The two of them dove into chatter—laughing, sharing stories, tossing out name ideas. For a while, everything else faded into the background. The soaked diaper, the highchair, the bottle—none of it mattered. It was just two people connecting.
Then Lena brought up something I’d mentioned earlier: that Betsy was studying to become a doctor. I still can’t believe it, she said, smiling at Betsy. You’re so smart, but I never would’ve guessed that was your path.
That lit a spark in Betsy. She sat up a little straighter, her eyes brightening as she talked about her classes, her goals, and the challenges she’d faced. It was the most animated I’d seen her all day.
As I listened, I felt my hand warm. It was resting gently on her diaper, and I realized she was peeing—right there, mid-conversation, without missing a beat.
And I couldn’t help but smile.
Here she was, talking about becoming a doctor, about anatomy and clinical rotations—and she was wetting her diaper like a toddler. It was such a tender contradiction. But it was Betsy. All of her. And I loved every part.
I glanced at Lena. Her expression was soft, understanding. She knew. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell—she’d noticed. And she didn’t flinch.
She just kept listening, smiling, and letting Betsy be exactly who she was.
After the conversation wound down, Lena glanced at the clock and said softly, I should get going. But… I’d love to give you a hug, if that’s okay.
Betsy paused, thinking it over. Then she quietly crawled off my lap and walked over to Lena. She stood in front of her, waiting patiently. When Lena stood up, Betsy raised her arms—the universal signal to be picked up.
Lena looked at me, a little surprised, as if asking for permission. I gave her a small nod and a reassuring smile.
She gently lifted Betsy into her arms. Betsy wrapped her legs around Lena’s waist and rested her head on her shoulder. One of Lena’s hands supported her from underneath, the other softly patting her back—and her diaper.
Lena glanced at me with a smile and mouthed, It’s warm.
I smiled back, quietly amused and deeply touched by the moment.
After a few minutes, I said gently, Alright, sweetheart. Time to get down—Lena needs to head out.
Betsy nodded and let herself be lowered to the floor, her dinosaur still tucked under her arm. Lena gave her one last smile before heading to the door, and the room felt just a little lighter than before.
After Lena left, I scooped Betsy up into my arms and gave her a playful smile. I think I know a little girl who needs a diaper change, I said, patting the front of her diaper. And judging by how this one feels… I’m pretty sure that little girl is you. Am I right?
Betsy giggled and nodded. Yep—it’s me.
I carried her to the changing area and gently cleaned her up, taking my time and making sure she was comfortable. As I finished, I looked at her skin and noticed it could use a little break.
You know what, I said softly, I’m not going to put you back into a diaper right away. Your skin looks like it could use some air.
You know what I was thinking? I said, watching Betsy laying there on the table.
She looked up at me, curious. No—what?
Well, I began with a smile, since we’re letting your bottom get some air, and because you were so sweet while Lena was here… why don’t you head out to the balcony for a bit? I’ll grab a bottle of milk and meet you out there. While I’m feeding you, we can talk about everything that happened this afternoon.
Her face lit up at the mention of the bottle. That familiar comfort, that simple gesture—it meant something to her. She smiled wide and nodded, her dinosaur tucked under her arm as she padded toward the balcony.
As I walked to the kitchen to prepare a bottle of milk for Betsy, my thoughts drifted to Lena. I wondered where our friendship might go from here—and how involved she might become in Betsy’s life. She’d seen a side of us that few ever do, and she responded with kindness. That meant something.
With the bottle full and warm in my hand, I stepped out onto the balcony. The late afternoon light cast a soft glow across the space, and there stood Betsy—bare bottomed, leaning gently against the railing, her dinosaur resting nearby.
My heart swelled a little. She looked so peaceful, so pretty in that moment. There was something innocent and serene about the way she stood there, lost in her own quiet world.
I walked over and gently picked her up, cradling her in my arms as I carried her to the chair. As I settled her into my lap, I glanced down—and noticed she was sucking on a pacifier.
I blinked, amused. I had no idea where she’d gotten it.
As I settled into the chair with Betsy in my lap, did you hide your pacifiers around the apartment? I asked, teasing gently. You didn’t have one when we left the bedroom.
She giggled, her eyes playful. I’m not going to tell you, she said, and with that, she wrapped her lips around the bottle’s nipple and began sucking contentedly.
I smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Are you ready to talk about what happened with Lena this afternoon?
She nodded slightly, still nursing from the bottle.
I was surprised you didn’t turn around and go back to the bedroom, I said.
Betsy paused, then pulled the bottle away just enough to speak. I was surprised too, she admitted. Seeing her sitting there in our kitchen… I almost did go back.
She looked down for a moment, then continued. But then I remembered—she already saw me the other night in a diaper. Today I was standing there with my thumb in my mouth, in a wet diaper and she was sitting right next to my highchair.
She took another sip, then added quietly, I thought… how much worse could it get? And what good would it do to hide?
I nodded, my heart full. That was brave, I said softly. You didn’t run. You let her see you. And she responded with kindness.
So I take it, I said with a smile, if it happens again, you’re okay with Lena seeing you in a diaper?
Betsy nodded, her voice calm. Yeah, I’d be okay with that. But I can tell you this—she’s not going to change me out of one. That’s not going to happen.
I chuckled. Got it. No diaper changes from Lena.
I glanced down at her, the empty bottle resting against her chest. Speaking of that… since you’re done with your bottle, how about we get you into a diaper before you pee on me?
She looked up at me with a grin. That would be a good idea.
The next morning, it was clear from the moment we woke up that the day was going to be a warm one. After finishing Betsy’s morning diaper change, I asked, do you want a top on today?
She shook her head and said, no, I’ll be out on the balcony doing my schoolwork. I’ll be warm enough.
Sounds good to me, I replied with a smile, and off she went—barefoot and carefree, her dinosaur tucked under one arm, ready to tackle her assignments in the sunshine.
At noon, I brought out lunch. She barely looked up, focused on her schoolwork as she nibbled away, her concentration steady and impressive. I let her be, admiring her quiet determination.
By 2:00, I stepped back out and gently said, Alright, time to wrap it up. Lena will be here in about an hour. She’s bringing everything over so we can cook dinner here.
Betsy looked up, blinking at the sudden shift in pace.
I need to give you a bath and get you dressed before she gets here, I added, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
I picked Betsy up, only to notice the damp spot beneath her. I sighed and said with a teasing smile, I should’ve changed you an hour ago—you leaked on the chair.
She looked at me, completely unfazed, and replied matter-of-factly, That’s not my problem. It’s your responsibility to change my diapers when they need it. And when you don’t… you get a leaky diaper that you have to clean up after.
I blinked, then laughed. Well, I can’t argue with that logic.
She grinned, clearly pleased with herself, and I shook my head with a smile as I grabbed a cloth to clean the chair. Alright, Miss Sass. Let’s get you into the tub and into fresh diaper before you start charging me for cleanup fees.