Sophie ♥

Oh yeah for sure. I really do think of A:I and A:B as horror most of the time. XD

31.) I followed Blossom out of the beach house and took shotgun in her car. If we took my car, I would have to pay for more gas, and gas wasn't cheap these days. Blossom pulled out of the long driveway and got on the freeway. True to form, whenever we were alone in a car, Blossom started in on questions about Academy Works. Blossom talked a lot about a range of different things. Her theories on Ai. Her affection for Bala. Her admiration of Talita. And then, after gushing a little while about Academy A, she looped back to her thoughts in Academy K. "I just think that the baby babble berry bushes are something the Academy should be selling to people, or at least to colleges. Like, I know at least a dozen people who'd love to get that degree of messed up, and I know a lot of them who'd also be like 'well it can't be bad because it's natural' and you would not believe the things people try to justify under that excuse." "I'm pretty sure the Academy has bigger things to worry about than getting college kids hooked on berries," I said. "And anyway, why draw unnecessary attention to themselves?" Blossom did that sometimes, interspaced real questions with crazy hypotheticals. I didn't mind though. Actually, answering them sometimes helped me clarify a lot of the more abstract concepts in my head. "So is Kione gonna come back?" Blossom asked. "She has to, right? Since she's the one Ai isn't supposed to meet? I bet they meet." "Who can say?" I shrugged. "You can say!" "I cannot." I smiled. I really liked talking about this stuff! "You can so too! You are Mia Moore and you could answer all my questions. But you're not because you're a brat and you clearly like making cute girls beg." Blossom, as it turned out, was pretty good at talking and driving and even making wild hand gestures to illustrate her points. "Yep, you got me. This is how I dom people: I withhold Academy Works lore. After a few hours, they do whatever I say." "Well it's working, because I slept in a diaper last night and we're on the way to buy more, so kudos to you, Little Miss Mastermind!" She laughed. She had a really pretty laugh; bright and crisp and airy; it was one of a thousand different things she'd crafted and cultivated during her self-discovery and reinvention. Middle School Blossom had a habit of snorting. "Tragically, you're too far gone to do anything about it," I said playfully. "You're just wrapped around my finger." I twirled my finger to make a point. "Well, I guess now I just have to decide if I'm an Ai, and I'll give you hell the entire time and be curious about everything like when a little kid asks 'why' to everything, or if I'll be a Bala and just be a good little girl, or if I'll be a Talita and form a fierce rivalry and find my forgotten brother, or maybe I'll be a Kione and nothing you do will work on me in the end~" "Hm. So which one are you gonna be?" I was just playing around, but I was actually kind of curious. She stuck me as a bit of a Talita, causing trouble until she was finally put in her place. But maybe she was more like Ai, always wanting to be in the thick of it no matter the consequences. I never thought about Academy Works protagonists as personality tests before, but it sure had a good cross-section of Little styles. "I am absolutely in every way a Talita; I thought it was so important to fight the system and have my own style and rebel rebel rebel and it wasn't until I leaned into expectations of me and let myself become quo with the status that I realized how happy I could be. And she's a brat and I'm kind of a bitch and the two have a lot of common data points." Her answer came pretty quickly; she's obviously thought about it before. "Cool." "And you?" "Uh... I dunno." I hadn't thought about it before. Not like she had. "I guess I'm a little bit of all of them, since I wrote them?" It was a cop out answer. "Only so much as Stephen King is every one of his villains though, right? Try again." There was a little bit of sassiness to Blossom's response, but that tended to be the way she got when she was feeling comfortable and right about something. She usually didn't care what most people thought about her, but Amanda was different. Blossom wanted her to like her. "Maybe... Aya?" I shrunk a little in my seat. "She thinks happiness is in making others happy. That's usually what gets her in trouble, though. It works great for the Academy, but for the real world?" I didn't want to linger on what that meant about me, so I quickly added: "I wish I was more like Ai, though. Willing to risk everything for something she wants." "Willing to risk not only your own everything, but someone else's everything, too? That doesn't sound like you at all, Amanda. Or who you'd wanna be - being Ai would wrack you with guilt. I could be Ai, and in the past I totes have been, but that kind of drive isn't who you really wanna be I don't think." Aya was a pretty good choice though! And Blossom could 100% see Amanda through that lens. "Maybe you're right..." I never really thought about Ai that way. She wasn't exactly selfish, but she did prioritize herself over Bala. I guess I just didn't really know what that was like. It's easy to envy things you aren't. I shook my head and changed the topic. "So, how was it, uh... the whole diaper thing?" I wanted to ask earlier that morning, but she crinkled every time she took a step. She only had one diaper, so I knew she hadn't changed; I think it embarrassed me more than it did her. Did she wet it? I sure didn't my first time. Then again, Blossom was more of a go-getter. "Oh it was pretty cool! Like, it wasn't as thick as I thought it would be but it was also pretty new all around so it had that built-in appeal. And I read one of my favorite diaper smut scenes online and it was enhanced by wearing one, that's for sure. It was like that heady dizzy feeling you get when…" She thought for a moment, considered that this girl had probably never touched a drug in her life, and shied away from the analogy. "Anyway, it was pretty nice. I thought about diapers and outfits and what kind of ensembles would go well to hide a diaper. Then I also thought about which kind of outfits would be really good at making it super obvious." "Well... I'm glad you had a good time. I was mostly ashamed the first time I wore one." I must have been twelve or thirteen; it was a long time ago. I had a lot of bad feelings about baby stuff back then, and I tried really hard not to want it. It took a few years for me to get over that, and by the end of high school I was pretty much on the 'I'm a Little' train. Internet communities helped. "I know a lot of people feel that way, and it comes up in stories a whole bunch as well. You don't really see people described like me who are like 'oh diapers sure I'll try that, yeah this is cool af' and I definitely feel underrepresented, babes!" She laughed that bright and confident laugh that she had. "Maybe there should be an adult baby in Academy Works... I mean, I am trying to up that representation factor." The readers would probably love it. I think a problem for a lot of forced regression stories is that ABDLs actually want it, so they don't always empathize when a character puts up a fight. Writing for that demographic could be fun. "Then again," I said, thinking aloud, "I think if the Academy were faced with an actual ABDL, they would handle it a lot differently. The whole diaper baby thing only really works because it's undesirable, you know? Breaking down someone's sense of self. Associating helplessness and littleness to obedience and people-pleasing. So an Academy for ABDLs would actually have no ageplay or diapers, and would probably be kind of a dull read for my niche audience." "You know you have a pretty good point! I see a lot of people talking about volunteering to go to the Diaper Dimension, and I think that could be fun, but I think volunteering for the Academy wouldn't work as well because a lot of it is about obedience and true obedience is only shown in the face of reluctance and doing the thing anyway. So for someone to be a good Candy they need to not want it by design I think. Or that's my theory anyway!" "Yeah, that's pretty spot on." Though I did wonder what it would look like if an adult baby was stuck in a non-regressive Academy, but they learned about the other Academies. Like, they got into the database or something and found out about a town where everyone was treated like a baby, or about the Melting in Academy B. But they were stuck learning obedience through electro-shock or something. They would be so jealous. Or, maybe an adult baby was sent to an Academy like the Kindergarten, where children got to play all day and wear diapers. But they had to pretend they hated it, because if the Matrons found out, they would get sent to an Academy without baby stuff. Ideas for fan-fiction, I supposed.

I totally agree. @_@ Forums aren't surviving very well. I'm so glad!!! ❤️❤️ Feel free to DM me any thoughts!

Saturday, October 22nd 30.) I spent a few hours working on Academy Works. Chapter Eight was coming together. I didn't have any other diapers, so I sucked on my pacifier instead. I wrote better when I was feeling kind of baby. Eventually, I hit a wall. The sky outside was a dark blue. The sun would be up soon. So I decided to get out of bed and go make breakfast. "You're up bright and early, Mia Moore." Blossom was in a pink silk babydoll nightgown when she wandered into the kitchen, yawning, and still clearly wearing the diaper from the day before. She rubbed her eyes and yawned again, sitting up on the stool on the other side of the counter. "Couldn't sleep." I had been baking for most of the morning. I made blueberry scones, which were a lot better than the scones I made the week before. I actually had ingredients! But more importantly, I made some bread dough and some pie dough and put them in the fridge for later. The biggest problem with baking anything is waiting for dough to proof. Too much down time. That was why I usually made sweets, and maybe why I'm fat. "And could you not sleep because you're anxious about something?" This routine was becoming somewhat familiar to Blossom, and while her usual instinct when things got tough and complicated with people was to cut and run, she was determined to do right by this girl. At the very least, Blossom wanted to prove she could be a good friend. "Oh, I'm not that anxious. I just can't sleep sometimes. I've always been like this." I pushed the plate of blueberry scones across the table. I only made six this time, which was a normal human amount of scones. Only five were left on the plate. "This must be why you're so good at baking - and you know I've loved everything you've ever fed me~" Blossom took one of the blueberry scones and took a bite of it, grinning happily as she chewed and swallowed. "You're a creator; you make worlds where people are babies, and you make desserts for breakfast. You're basically the perfect person to control the universe, in my opinion." "Ha. I can barely control myself, let alone the universe. And besides, if I'm all-powerful, how is someone else supposed to turn me into a baby against my will?" In the immortal words of Robin Williams: "phenomenal cosmic power, nobody can dom me". There's always a trade-off. "Oh you don't know it, but your handmaiden, Blossom, has been drugging your baking supplies so every time you bake something you get more and more baby and fall more and more under her whims and control. And by the time you realize it..." Blossom reached across and booped Amanda on the nose, "it's far too late." "Yeah, that's about the writing quality of your average ABDL story." It was a stupid idea, but... well, I'd probably read that story. If all our fantasies had to make sense, Academy Works wouldn't be very popular. I blushed just a little and started cleaning up the kitchen. My pajamas were covered in flour. I wondered if Blossom would mind if I did some laundry. "Hey, if I can match the average off the top of my head, your writing must be rubbing off on me." She took another bite of her scone. "Which is ironic because usually I'm the one rubbing one off to your writing." Comments like that still threw me for a loop. I think if a boy said it as often as she did, I might have been more perturbed. But it felt different with Blossom. I think because it meant I had power over her. Maybe not directly, but I was the one that made her feel and do things. It was a lot like when she would bully me, but... maybe the opposite? I made her feel nice things, just like she'd made me feel bad ones. I guess I just never thought I'd have any say over how she was feeling. I never thought I'd be here with her. I finished tidying the kitchen and warned Blossom against touching the dough in the fridge. Then I had to explain the whole proofing process to her. "So you made dough so you could make stuff later?" Blossom asked. "Pretty much," I said. "I know I'll want to bake again sooner or later, and making one difficult thing - like a pie - takes as much focus as making a thousand cookies. So it's... economical." "So does the dough just... hang out? Is that okay? I grew up with Dad telling me that leftovers would give me food poisoning and it wasn't until I got to college that I kind of outgrew those fears." Which was a funny little admission, honestly, because that was a pretty childish perspective to have. "It usually keeps in the fridge for like, two days," I said. "And you can freeze it for a couple months. But I don't usually go two days without baking." "I'm gonna go shower and get dressed for the day - we have a big adventure ahead! Are you excited? I'm pretty excited." "Excited? Not really. But I'm excited to be home with our bounty." I was weaving into her adventure metaphor. "I should get cleaned up too. Can I use your washing machine? I want to wash my pajamas." "You sure can. The wash pods are in the cupboard above the washer - it's a combo unit so just push the start button and it'll wash and dry. It's pretty fancy, but my uncle wouldn't shut up about it for like three years after he got it. And then there was a while he'd go to friends' places and go to their laundry rooms and click his tongue and shake his head and be like," she put on a mocking deep voice for this, "oh, still using separate units, I see. How quaint." "I didn't even know that existed... though I guess it makes sense. I always forget to move my clothes into the dryer." Blossom took a second scone with her and went to change. The beachhouse had three bathrooms but the only shower was upstairs; I had to change in the downstairs bathroom instead. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to make myself look presentable. I even brought a nice shirt with me this weekend, a blouse my mom got me at a thrift store. I thought it would make me look like a business woman, but with my glasses it was a little more like a high school uniform at a really liberal prep school. Getting ready for Blossom Brixley was not a quick affair. She showered, which took her a good half an hour by the time she was done washing herself up and down, and shampooing and conditioning her long blonde hair. Then when she got out of the shower, she spent another half an hour blow drying and doing initial styling on her hair. Then she got dressed. Then she did her makeup. Then she finished her hair. All in all, her morning routine took over two hours for her to go from bedheaded-gremlin-in-a-diaper to being the college knockout that everyone wanted to sleep with. She wore denim cutoff shorts with fishnets underneath, a chunky black belt with a large buckle, and a black top with long white and black striped sleeves with the words 'sad, lonely, and bad at math' written in a simple font across her boobs. She finished the look with a 90s style mesh choker and six or seven silver necklaces in various styles and lengths. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she apologized, pulling on her checkered flats and checking her makeup in the mirror by the front door. Waiting was an understatement. I had been playing on my phone for two hours, texting Lin and checking Twitter. But when I saw her, I realized why. "Wow..." Oh, that was a cliche thing to say, like when a girl comes down the stairs in a movie and the guy is waiting at the bottom. That dumb speechless expression. Did I have that expression? So I overcorrected with: "You know it's like forty-five degrees out, right?" "All cute girls are perpetually cold, didn't you know? And I'm pretty damn cute, like at least a 9/10, so I'm freezing all the time." That was about the most backwards answer anyone could have given, but Blossom enjoyed the perplexed look on Amanda's face. Honestly, she enjoyed the expression of amazement when she walked in the room too. Maybe she was dolled up a little more than she might usually have been for going shopping. Then again, this was a pretty standard Blossom level of effort. "Let's go navigate the waters of capitalism, dodge all the other culturally deprived white girls, and find our buried steamer chest so we can protect our booty bounty. Or something. I don't know. Don't at me." I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I felt like I had Blossom figured out. Then other times... I dunno. She was a really complicated woman.

Thank you so much!!! 💜 I'm actually struggling a little with motivation to post it, so please feel free to comment as often as you'd like! It would really help motivate me.

29.) As it turned out, there was a medical store only an hour away. They had Molicares and Abenas on their website, but I steered Blossom to Northshore. "Megamaxes are a big trend right now," I told her, scrolling through one of the pages. "I'm not sure what makes them better or worse than anything else, but they do have different colors. See?" "They come in different colors? That's amazing! The pink ones look really cute but those black ones are like… you know my Dad told me, 'Blossom, never wear black unless you want someone to see it' and he was totally right. Picture one of those black ones, with a cute bra, maybe a garter, some fishnets? Phew!" Blossom was waving her hand to fan herself as she gushed about that. "Hm... I'm more into the pink, I think." I was beginning to realize that Blossom and I weren't exactly the same when it came to diaper stuff. I liked more about what the diaper represented: helplessness, a loss of control. For me, diapers were a story element. They helped weave together the narrative that turned me on. To Blossom, well... she just thought diapers were sexy. It didn't matter why someone was wearing it or what it meant. To her it was an equation: anything+diaper = sexier. "So the pink for you, the black for me?" Blossom smiled a little to herself. The notion of forcing one another into the other type of diaper had its own appeal, too, but that wasn't something she planned to say out loud. "Yeah, I guess so, but these sizes are... uh..." Not what I expected. I wore a Regular Attends, which I thought was like a Medium. But the Medium Megamaxes only went up to 44". "We might have to take measurements or something. I had hoped this stuff would be standardized." "You know, I just kind of imagined that all diapers fit no matter what, but that's obviously not realistic. Reality can be messy that way, huh?" She got up from the sofa and padded over to the kitchen, opening one drawer after another, and looking for a measuring tape. I went to check the sizing on my Attends while Blossom was busy. It said Regulars were 44-56". Megamax Larges were 42-54". That made no sense at all. How could a size larger be two inches smaller? This was why I hated shopping online! When Blossom came back from the kitchen with a pink measuring tape in hand, Amanda was looking a little bit forlorn. Maybe pouty was a better word. "Sizing weirdness, huh? Trust me when I tell you, I know that pain like the back of my ass. Most clothes are made for tall girls, and then you add tall and busty with thick thighs? The inconsistencies could drive a girl crazy." "We should bring back personal tailors..." I sighed. Blossom handed me the tape measure and I stood up with a crinkle. Wearing a diaper around Blossom was becoming quite ordinary, though maybe it had something to do with her wearing one as well. "Okay, arms out." I knew how to measure myself well enough. With the modern push to online shopping, I had to take measurements before I bought anything, just to be sure. I wrapped the fabric around Blossom's hips - definitely bigger than her waist - careful not to touch her. This close, her diaper peeking out over her jeans... "36 inches." Actually, not as small as I thought. Her butt really added a lot. "Though without a diaper, that's probably like 35." I didn't wait for Blossom to measure me. I pulled the fabric around me like a belt, resting on my hips, and took a measurement. Then I did my stomach, just in case. They were close, but my hips were bigger. "48, minus one, 47." We went back to the chart to consult. There was a lot that was different between the two of them. Height. Size. Lifestyle. Fashion. Background. Upbringing. Outlook on life. But the fact they were both in diapers was a kind of unifying thing, a commonality, and Blossom was pretty proud of herself because getting Amanda to lower her guard was definitely not easy. "So you're a Medium, but I'm a Large. At least for this brand." I clicked the size drop-downs and added a Medium Black and a Large Pink to the cart. Picking them up tomorrow would be a test of my anxiety, but Blossom said she would get them herself. I checked "pay at store". That wasn't so hard. "So tomorrow, we'll head out early, hit a bougie place on the way and get a steamer trunk and a lock, get some baby powder and stuff, and then pick up our haul. That's so exciting! Like, super duper nerve-wracking too, but exciting." And that was the first time Blossom actually admitted to any of this making her nervous, which was a rather humanizing bit of vulnerability. "It'll be nice to try a real diaper," I said with a blush. "I bet it'll make my writing better. I mostly just make it up, or I go off stuff I've seen in other stories." "So what you're saying is that I'm contributing to the betterment of Academy Works?" Blossom grinned, and then did a little fist pump of triumph. I rolled my eyes, but she wasn't wrong. For the rest of the night, we didn't talk much about baby stuff. Actually, the whole "getting caught by your friend wearing a diaper" trope really took a lot out of me. That night, I knew the both of us went to bed wearing our diapers. She would probably stay in it for as long as she could. I just knew they helped me sleep. But in the middle of the night, I had to pee. I had wet myself before, but it was weird knowing I wasn't at home. How was I supposed to discreetly get rid of a used diaper? So I finally got up and changed in the bathroom. After that, I couldn't fall back to sleep.

28.) "You know, I thought they'd be thicker?" Blossom mused. We were in the living room and Blossom was pacing, testing out the way it felt to be wearing a diaper. I drew the curtains and sat down on the couch. The novelty took a while to wear off. Sometimes, if I hadn't worn one in a few weeks, I'd just lay on the couch and squeeze my legs together over and over. "Yeah, sometimes I forget I'm wearing them." I had to either be moving around or actively reminding myself. Though I admit, after lying in bed writing for a few hours and getting up, the unexpected sound of crinkling always made me blush. "These are just from the store. The ones online look a lot thicker. There's a place in the city that has Megamaxes and Abena and stuff, but they aren't open 24/7." "Sounds like we have some shopping to do tomorrow then, right babes?" Although, Blossom did note to herself that any thicker and these definitely wouldn't have fit under her current tight pair of jeans. But that didn't mean she couldn't buy different jeans. "God, hearing them crinkle is pretty sexy though, isn't it?" She wasn't wrong. I'd never seen someone in real life wearing a diaper before. I mean, some people probably were at that munch. But this felt so much more personal. "I doubt they'll have a medical supply store or whatever way out here," I said. "And I'm not going anywhere that doesn't have a self-checkout." "Just say they're for me. Bougie girls like me are into everything and nobody ever asks questions because they don't wanna come across like they don't know what's in and what's not. So I'll be your self-checkout, Mia Moore. And given I like to check you out, that's apt, isn't it?" "You're an idiot," I said without thinking. I worried for a moment that maybe she thought I was being mean, but when I looked up she still had that wry smile on her face. I let out a sigh of relief. "If you're so unashamed, just go do it yourself. You don't need me to pick out your diapers." Or did she? Maybe my idiot thing wasn't a joke. Maybe she was a dumb bimbo, and she needed a grown-up's help to pick out her underwear. And when I chose diapers, she might think it's unusual. But she'd be too much of a bimbaby to question it. She'd wear her diapers in total obliviousness, wetting and messing herself because that's what I told her was the right thing to do. But that was just more of my fantasizing. Truth be told, Blossom was unexpectedly smart. She was on the Dean's List at our college and she was an Engineering major. My major was English, and that was just because I thought it was fun. What was I supposed to do with that degree? "You have far too much faith in me in this field, because if you send me in there on my own I'm likely to come out with sixteen packs of Depends and be like 'oh look babes, I got you covered for a whole year!' And you're too polite and too socially uncertain to tell me no, so you'll probably wear them and you won't tell me they're awful in an objective way. And how are you gonna base a story character off me if I'm not even wearing the good stuff." She had her hands on her hips for this, and with her diaper visible it was a whole display. Certainly cute. "So we will look it up online first," I answered. "It's not like I know a lot about this stuff either, just stuff I hear from friends." She still wasn't sitting down. Maybe she liked to pace and listen to the crinkling. Maybe she just liked being in the spotlight. It kind of felt like she was doing a really lackadaisical runway show. "You have a tall leggy blonde girl in a diaper in front of you - her first diaper, mind you - and you don't wanna go shopping with her tomorrow?" There were a few expressions that Blossom was really good at, and her pouty puppy dog eyes definitely qualified as one of them. If she were studying theater, she'd have won awards for that pout. "You're generalizing," I said. "If you wanna go shopping we can. But you aren't gonna find somewhere out here that has anything better than Attends, and I'm sure not buying them." Actually, Blossom and I usually weren't in public together. We went to dinner once, and grocery shopping. But both of those were pretty late. I guess this place was far enough away from home that we were allowed to hang out. "Is there a place we can drive to that will have more options? We could make a day of it, go on a little road trip, be like Thelma and Louise with less suicide and more diapers." But Blossom did know, inherently, that she was being pushy. She flopped down on the sofa next to Amanda with a crescendo of crinkling. "I dunno... I wouldn't want to go in..." I played with my fingers in my lap, trying to keep my hands busy. No one out here would even know me! But just the thought... "Okay, how about this: we look for places online, we pick stuff out together, and then we drive wherever it is and I'll go in and pick it up." That was a solution that solved both of the girls' requirements. Blossom was actually rather proud of herself, because ordinarily she'd be more inclined to steamroll and get her own way. "I really don't have the money to go hog wild," I sighed, sulking into the sofa. "And I can't really bring anything home. I don't have anywhere to hide it. Stashing one pack of diapers is already a problem." And Blossom lived at her sorority house; that was probably even less safe than my place! "So we can leave them here? It's the end of the season, nobody else is going to use the place for months and months. And this one can be on me - call it reparations if it makes you feel better, babes." The issue of money for Blossom was an interesting one. Her Dad made a lot of money, and she never wanted for anything, especially in her later school years, but he also taught her to be fiscally responsible. Which was why she had three different people who sugared her - two of which were professors - and gave her a pretty happy little slush fund for stuff like this. She made some good points. And I really wanted to try a boutique diaper. Especially those new ABU ones. It wasn't impossible... "What if someone shows up?" I asked. "If we can do it, why can't other people?" "Like, shows up here? Then I'll answer the door and tell them I'm here with a cute girl and they need to go away, obviously." The same as Blossom would handle the situation with any venue, honestly! "I mean, if we aren't here." Maybe she wasn't thinking this through. "If your uncle or whoever owns this place comes up without telling you and finds a closet of adult diapers, don't you think that'll be a problem? That's a breach of your... sphere thing." "Well, I've left sex toys up here before and it's never happened, so why worry about something that's never gonna happen?" "Boutique diapers and sex toys are not the same thing," I sighed. "If your family found out about sex toys, it would just be a little awkward. But this?" Blossom knew I had a point. She was trying to find a way around it, because she wanted the same things I did. She wanted a safe space, where both of us could dress up and be cute and have fun and not worry. But we were twenty years old. In this economy? It wasn't likely. "...okay, I'll buy a trunk. With a lock." It had taken Blossom more time than she was proud of, coming up with that solution. But it was a simple solution, an elegant solution. "We'll go to like, Pottery Barn or some other bougie place. They love those steamer trunks and shit." "...your cousins won't break it open or something?" My mom would never break into something that belonged to me, which was how I got away with stuffing ten diapers into the locking drawer of my night stand. But I didn't know Blossom's family that well. "My family would all assume it belonged to somebody else, that that somebody else isn't them, and they'd leave it alone, or at worst move it to another room. We're not snoopy people, babes; and anybody up here after the season ends is just here to have sex on the beach or flirt with some girl they like." Which was, admittedly, not that different to Blossom's motivations. "Okay, I just..." I hesitated and looked down at my hands. "I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret. I don't want you to get in trouble because of... this. Because of me." Blossom was quiet for a moment, and then she took Amanda's hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly. "Amanda. Mia. Babes. I'm a big girl, and I've done a lot of dumb stuff in my life. And it taught me that the best stuff in life has some degree of risk. If this ever came up, if somehow someone found out? The drama would be because of me, not you." I was quiet for a moment before I nodded. She was right... "Well, for the record, I think it's a dumb idea... but if you're sure." If this were a diaper story, someone would find it right away. For the first time in a long time, I really hoped this wasn't going to be like a diaper story.

27.) Blossom had the quintessential high school cheerleader experience of babysitting. Even though money had never really been an issue, babysitting afforded Blossom the freedom of a mostly-empty house where her Dad wasn't around. Those moments were mostly used for making out with guys, but it did teach her - at least roughly - how to put a diaper on someone. A smaller someone, obviously, but a someone. Still, taping one on herself felt like trying to write using a mirror for reference; all her actions felt a little clumsy. After a few adjustments, and dragging over the full-body mirror to the bedside, Blossom was pretty happy with the job she'd done. Far from perfect, but pretty good for a first attempt. She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror - the juxtaposition of her diaper and her midriff top that exposed her taut tummy - and she turned left and right to look from different angles. "Hey 'Manda? You can come back now," she bellowed. Stories always make diaper changes seem like they take either one minute or half an hour, but I find that it's usually between five and ten in the real world. I wasn't very surprised that it took Blossom a while. But when I stepped back into the bedroom, Blossom wasn't wearing any pants. It was just her, standing in front of the mirror in just her halter top and a diaper taped around her hips. "S-sorry!" I said, quickly turning around. Who calls someone in before they're dressed?! Blossom, clearly... "No, I need you to check something," she said. How could she be so nonchalant about this? I took a deep breath and turned around. Her curves did everything mine didn't. The seat of her diaper stuck out. Her tan thighs were pushed apart ever so slightly. The wings were tight around her waist. Except... "It looks weird?" Blossom said, more like a question. "Yeah, it's a little big..." I took a step forward, but I kept my distance. It was like checking out an animal at the zoo. A dangerous one, like a tiger or something. The waistband of the diaper was pretty high up her back, almost to the halter top, and the tapes on the front were almost overlapping. We were definitely not the same size... "Is there anything we can do about that? I'd figured 'cause they tape on that it wouldn't be a big deal, but I guess I've just got a weird-shaped booty, right?" Now, Blossom didn't actually believe her booty was anything but fine AF, but she knew well enough for a decade of borrowing and sharing clothes from friends that you never insinuate that they're too big to fit. She had some pretty good life skills. "No, your booty looks..." I decided not to finish that sentence. She was both very hard to look at and very hard to look away from. Oh, that's a good line for a story! "I think you just need a smaller size." "Okay, then we should hang out in the living room and order some? For me? And probably for you too, because I owe you at least one." She turned around in place and bounced a little on the balls of her feet. "How do I look?" "You look... really good. Really good." Someone wearing a diaper for the first time needed a lot of support. Or, I did anyway. I did earlier today too, when Blossom caught me. I wanted to be supportive too. But also, I wasn't lying. She looked fucking gorgeous, like one of those pictures online of some kink model in a store-brand diaper that doesn't fit her. Internet fodder. She'd make a killing on OnlyFans... "Uh, shouldn't you... put on some pants or something? If we're going downstairs?" "Should I? I was just going to rawdog it, but I could put on a skirt, or some shorts; what do you think would look cutest? You're the expert here, Mia Moore." She winked and smiled, because engaging Amanda was important to her, and her new friend was clearly nervous. "I... dunno. I only wear pajama pants." I motioned to my pajamas. They were from the guy's section at Kohls, plaid and baggy with deep pockets. My experience wearing a diaper had never gone beyond the threshold of my house. One time I had to get the mail on one of my baby days and I just about died from anxiety. "In a story, I'd say a skirt? Or, uh... what you were wearing before is probably fine?" Low-rise jeans and a diaper was definitely a vibe. I'd seen it enough times on Twitter. Plus, with her halter top... I looked down at my feet. Blossom nodded her head slowly in thought and contemplation, and then nodded quicker as she smiled. "Yeah babes, jeans are gonna be a process to get on over this but I think I'm up to the task! The skirt I packed wouldn't cover anything anyway." It wasn't that Blossom wasn't nervous, or that she was entirely unperturbed by the fact she was wearing her very first diaper. It was just more than she had a kind of tunnel vision with excitement, so she couldn't see anything beyond that. I tried not to watch Blossom dress herself. One leg at a time, just like the rest of us, right? But she was a really pretty girl, and every movement made her crinkle. She wasn't like anybody else I'd ever seen. Blossom didn't struggle too much with her jeans, but the diaper was clearly visible over the waistband. Even if she had been wearing a diaper that fit her body, it still would have been showing. I reminded myself to draw the curtains in the living room. Even though the huge door wall faced the beach, anyone could be going for a late-night stroll. "Tada!" Blossom did an unexpected jumping jack to model her completed attire, and then twirled in place before sticking her arms out to the side. She was a very athletic and fit young woman, which should have come as no surprise whatsoever. "What do you think? Can you tell?" She smirked wryly. "Oh not at all. Actually, you could probably go to dinner like that. Or school." "I've read enough stories to know better," Blossom laughed. "Mmhmm, a bully might find out. How terrible would that be?" In the case of Blossom and myself: so far, not that terrible at all.

26.) With the laptop on Amanda's knees, and Blossom not wanting to take it from her, she did the only logical thing and spun around on the sofa so she could lay down with her legs over the arm, and she laid her head down in the other girl's very crinkly lap. And then began to read...for a very short period of time. "Wait… wait wait, who...who's this Wendy? Where's Aya? I'm immediately suspicious!" Blossom turned her head to look up at Amanda, and then she looked back at the screen of text. "No no, don't say anything, I wanna read the rest of the chapter first. This seems like peak Academy Works, actually; changing protagonists mid-story!" "I'm glad you think so," I said nervously. I'd never switched protagonists in an Academy Works story before, and especially not halfway through. Wendy had been mentioned in Aya's part of the story, but she was a fleeting character. I tried to shuffle a little and get comfortable with Blossom's head on my lap, but it was a little claustrophobic. The anxiety of wearing a diaper was already a lot, and Blossom wasn't even on page two when I asked her: "Could you, uh... sit up?" "Oh! Sure babes, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Blossom apologized as she sat up and tousled her hair sheepishly. The truth was, she hadn't thought twice about doing that because she felt pretty at ease with Amanda. But soon after Blossom was back to reading. A second protagonist, though… that was so interesting. "I don't know if I trust Wendy." "That's fair." I put my laptop between us, setting it on both her thigh and mine. She used the trackpad to scroll. I read along anxiously, wondering what words she might not like. Was this good enough? Was this a good direction to take the story? I wish I had something to keep my hands busy... "I'm so on edge after the way that Academy K ended and I'm looking for all these clues and word choices and things I wouldn't usually pay that much attention to, but you never ever pick a word by mistake. It all means something so this isn't just 'I wanted to do two protagonists'. This definitely means something more." For Blossom, this was a first: getting to gush about her theories to someone, to anyone, let alone Mia Moore herself. "Yeah, well..." I wasn't sure what to say. I couldn't say too much, but Blossom knew me well enough. Or, she knew my writing. Everything had some weird meaning to it. Wendy becoming the protagonist for this chapter - maybe more chapters to follow - was not a flight of fancy. I had a story to tell. It took Blossom a while to finish the chapter. I think she was reading slowly on purpose, trying to take in every word. The chapter ended on another Alice in Wonderland quote, just like one of Aya's chapters. It was a good literary parallel. "I am so excited to read more! Is this the chapter you've had writer's block on? Because that was so enticing, so enrapturing, so entrancing. I want more, and I'm willing to do just about anything to get it." She paused and smirked. "I sound like a Candy." "You really think it's okay? I know a lot didn't happen in this chapter... I wanted to actually talk about breakfast and stuff since you really only see Aya at lunch. Oh, and I wanted this Academy to have some like… schoolyard legends? I always thought those were fun when I was a kid." There was a tire swing no one would go near on the playground because it was always swinging. We thought it was haunted, but it was probably the way the wind wrapped around the building. "Those are totes fun. In middle school, when I went to space camp, they talked about how the cornflakes were haunted and if you ate them you'd be a virgin forever, and at the time I was like 'I'm going to be a virgin forever anyway, sex sounds gross' so I ate the fuck outta those cornflakes. I guess the curse wasn't true though, because that has not been the case for me." Blossom laughed brightly and twisted her fingers through her fakely-colored hair. "I don't think a lot ever needs to happen, especially when you've got such a good foundation." "So you liked it, then...?" I knew she liked it. She had been gushing about it ever since she finished the chapter! But there was an insecure part of me that needed the validation. I needed her to say it over and over until the next one came out. That was why comments on the internet meant a lot to me. "I loved it, and I'll love it when I read it next, and then the sixteen times after that too. And if you want me to message you every time I read it and love it, I'll text you! I only need one hand for my vibrator, so texting is still totally doable!" "...I can't tell if that's a joke." Blossom smiled slyly and I blushed. Jeeze, being an erotica writer sure was weird sometimes. "Well, maybe the next chapter will be sexier," I offered. "This one was more about character building." Next chapter...what happened next? More classes, no doubt. The reason I hadn't set any Academy Works stories in actual schools before this was because sometimes class was just really boring to write about. It was the same reason I didn't like when characters "went to work". "If you don't build the characters, it's not gonna be as fun to break them! So that's pretty important. And you know different people can find different things sexier, too; some people love the struggle and the humiliation and the build-up to the fall, but then lose interest after that. And other people like the aftermath of the fall more. So you never know who you might be turning on even if you're not aiming for it to be strictly sexy." Blossom nodded, as though she were an expert here. She was feeling more comfortable around Amanda, and she got the vibe that the same was true in reverse. "That's true..." I mean, we found diapers sexy. That was kind of out there, wasn't it? "Sometimes I just write about what I wish would happen to me. But if it actually happened to me, I'd hate it." "Sometimes I read about what I wish would happen to me, but I'd probably hate it too. Buuuuut… also sometimes I think I'd like it a lot, and that's the stuff I fantasize over most. It's frustrating never really having gotten to explore any of it in real life. And believe me, it's not that I'm not kinky, I just… never felt I could trust someone with this." There was a confession from Blossom right there. "Well..." I knew I'd regret it, but maybe it was better for the both of us to get this out of the way. "I have an extra... you know. If you want it?" She had mentioned before that she had never worn them. It probably had something to do with her spheres, keeping things separate in her life. But hey, I was in one! "I have no idea how to wear a diaper." Blossom's cheeks were very very red, but her eyes sparkled because this had crossed over with the confidence she often had when it came to sex. "But if you wanted to put me in one… I could be open to that~" "Uh... I don't think I could do that..." Not only because the thought of undressing another woman and putting her in a diaper was awkwardly intimate, but also because... well, I really had never diapered anyone before. Not even a real baby. It took me ages to learn how to do it myself, and I wasn't sure it translated well. "You've read enough stories," I told her. "You can figure it out." "Alright, I'll give it a shot! As long as you promise to tell me if it doesn't look right, and do your best to help me fix it if I fuck it up, okay? I'm serious!" While Blossom did have some confidence - to this feeling like much any other sexual encounter - and while this did share most of the things in common with wearing any other lingerie for someone, Blossom had a bit of a starstruck situation when it came to Mia Moore. She wanted to impress her. Maybe I should have just diapered her myself. That's what would happen in a good story. The cute cheerleader-turned-friend says she wants to try on a diaper, maybe because she's flirting with some Daddy type. She blushes and pouts and bites her lip. She says she's never done it before, and four tapes? Oh, that's so complicated! What side is the front? Which side is the back? The caregiver smiles warmly and offers to help. A sensual scene follows of powdering, depicted stylistically as foreplay. Nervousness, excitement, a heat between her thighs. The soft touch of his hands on her hips. The security of the padding as he tapes it in place, sealing her into his fantasy. She's embarrassed by how much she loves it. But the truth is, if you read enough diaper stories, you know which side is the front. Tapes these days aren't like the ones ten years ago: you can redo them a few times without losing any stickiness. It's not that hard to diaper yourself, not really. It takes a while to be perfect at it, but adequacy is a low bar. I only brought two diapers with me for the whole weekend; I didn't think I would need more than that. But when Blossom followed me up to the guest bedroom and I handed her my last one, I felt a pang of anxiety. Getting adult diapers was a bit of a chore. I couldn't ship them to my house, and I sure as hell wasn't shopping in the daytime. I went to a 24-hour Walmart in the middle of the night to get them, and I could really only hide one pack at a time in my bedroom. "People online say bottom tapes first?" I shrugged, trying not to blush. I couldn't look her in the eye. "I usually do the top ones first, but I think that's because I'm bigger?" "We'll see how it goes!" Blossom smiled, feigning all the confidence she could: truthfully, this was equal parts exciting and nerve-inducing. But Blossom was pretty good at the things she put her mind to, and her mind had been put to diapers for years, right? "Do you wanna come in and watch? Or do you wanna wait outside the room? What's good, babes?" Nudity, at least, was something Blossom had no issues with. "I'll... wait in the hall..." Blossom shrugged her shoulders. I didn't understand how she could be so cool with being naked around people who were practically strangers, but it was more of a jealousy than a judgment. I wished I had her confidence. I left her alone in the guest room. I didn't give her baby powder or anything, though I did bring a small travel bottle with me. Even if I wasn't wearing a diaper, baby powder had a lot of use for chubby girls to prevent chafing. It was a good item to have on-hand.

25.) When Blossom came back inside, she was holding something behind her back. Her heart was racing, and Blossom wasn't sure that she wasn't making an awful mistake. But Blossom was no stranger to taking leaps of faith, and the tall girl held out a purple leather-bound album in both of her hands, for Amanda to take. "Here." She continued to hold it out and bounced up and down on her toes. "Take it so I can sit down alreadyyyyyyy!" "Uh... okay...?" I had no idea what this was about, but it sure wasn't what I had expected. She wanted to level the playing field, right? What did that have to do with a photo album? I took the album out of her hands and she sat down next to me on the couch, probably a little too close. The depression of the cushion made my diaper crinkle and I tried to focus on the book instead. Blossom had been in front of thousands of people for cheerleading, but that didn't make her even half as nervous as this. But it was a good nervous, right? It was an "I'm doing a good thing" kind of moment. Blossom felt like it kind of fitting to share childhood-ish pictures of herself with a girl who was sitting here, in a diaper, as kind of child-ish herself. "Now babes, I gotta warn you, what you're about to see is something nobody ought to ever see; it's Blossom Kryptonite and I'm trusting you with it." Without further hesitation, Blossom leaned over and opened the album for her new friend. Blossom Goes to Arizona! was arched across the top of the page, in old MS Word clip art. Pasted right in the middle of that page was a photo of a gawky looking brunette girl with long hair down most of her back, in two braided plaits; her smile was adorned with very prominent braces. She was short, dumpy, unremarkable. And she was wearing a Supernatural shirt and an awkwardly fitting pair of faded jeans. "Woah..." I mean, Blossom had made reference before to her being kind of a dork in middle school, but I sure underestimated it. Everyone was kind of a dork in middle school, right? But the girl in the picture... she really didn't look like Blossom at all. And the album was more of a scrapbook, clearly put together by a kid. By Blossom. I was quiet for a moment as I leafed through the pages. At first it was kind of funny. I smiled to myself, seeing my tall busty bully in the form of... well, something closer to me at that age. Awkward. Flat-chested. Oblivious. But as I saw pictures of her with the Grand Canyon and sipping chocolate milk at a restaurant and different sundresses she was wearing, it was a lot less funny. Actually, Blossom seemed... a lot more like Blossom than I originally gave credit. It was something about her eyes, or her smile. She was so... radiant. She still looked like that nowadays, like everything was still right in front of her. "You look happy," I finally said. It was the first thing I said other than some light laughter. "You went here with your dad?" Blossom wasn't sure if she expected Amanda to ridicule her, but that was honestly more of a Blossom thing to do anyway. Maybe it wasn't all that surprising that she didn't, but it caught Blossom off-guard all the same. She felt a warmth in her chest and smiled, nodding softly. "Yup, just me and Dad. He wasn't often home because you know, single parent and all, and his work is a pretty serious thing. He'd always try to make time for me, but vacations? He lived for vacations. We'd sit and plan them out together - we'd always drive, always - and every little stop we made was decided on together." "That's so sweet." I flipped the page, a picture of Blossom in front of a large wooden carving of a bear. She was wearing an expression of mock fear, like the bear was attacking her. It made me smile. "My mom and I don't really do vacations," I admitted, flipping the page again. "We usually don't have the money. But when I was growing up, she was really pushy about always having dinner together. Sundays we would go out somewhere. We don't really do that anymore though." "That kind of weekly tradition is super wholesome." Blossom wanted to ask Did you grow out of it?, but given that Amanda was in a diaper, maybe that wasn't the most apt approach. The topic actually brought a bit of a guilty look to Blossom's face for a moment, but she shook it away hopefully without notice. "I guess love finds ways to shine in every situation," I said. Blossom had money and a busy dad, so she got to go on long vacations. I didn't have money and a mostly-present mom, so we got dinner together every night. Adaptation at its best, I supposed. The photo album had all sorts of cute touristy stuff, including a very happy looking Middle-School-Blossom on her hands and knees in the dirt, creeping up on a pair of squirrels as though she were one of them. "This is a part of my life I don't let people know about, and when I got hit with the puberty stick and people started to notice me... I overcorrected pretty hard, and that's why I was such a megabitch in high school. I got bullied and picked on all through middle-school, because hey what the hell does an only child with a single father know about being a pretty girl, right? So I swung waaaay out in the other direction, and it was super sucky of me... I was a total bitch to my Dad during those years too, and it totally broke his heart." "How are you guys nowadays?" For as little as I hung out with my mom, we were still pretty close. She didn't know about my baby stuff, but why would she? It was more of a kink, right? You don't usually share kinks with your parents. Blossom thought about it for a moment, pursing her lips as though she were trying to figure out the best way to word it. "Nowhere near as close as we used to be. When I started college, he took a higher responsibility role with Boeing, and he's only even in the state a couple of days a week. And don't misunderstand; we love each other! But I'm not his little girl anymore, and I wasn't subtle about making that known back then - it was one of the only times I've ever seen him cry." "Teens make stupid mistakes," I said, which was a little more meaningful than I had intended. In high school, Blossom made a lot of stupid mistakes with me too. I sighed and closed her photo album, leaning back on the couch a little. "I'm sorry if I don't trust you sometimes. But I want to. And I'm going to try. So... thank you for showing me this." Blossom smiled and exhaled, relieved that her gesture hadn't been taken the wrong way, and she leaned back on the sofa next to the crinkly girl, neck arched back to look at the ceiling. "Thanks for giving me a chance, babes. You're... pretty remarkable. I haven't really gone after anyone before, not like this. I don't know if that makes you feel special or not, but it's something unique to you." "I guess so?" I didn't really chase anyone either. I guess I was quick to write people off. Lin and I were only friends because she was so chill about everything. I sunk into the couch and played with my fingers. If I was going to trust her, then... "Wanna read the new chapter?" I asked nervously. I hadn't even heard back from my editor friend. It was such a raw draft... "...for real?" The offer caught Blossom completely off-guard, and when she realized it wasn't a joke she sat right on up and nodded her head. "Yeah! Yeah, I'd love to! Holy shit." I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks were pink. I had only ever shown my drafts to one other person, and never in real life. Not like this. I wasn't sure I could be in the same room... "Lemme get my laptop," I muttered, getting up from the sofa. I crinkled as I rose from the couch, but it didn't seem to bother me as much. Right now, I had bigger things to worry about. Blossom wanted to slap Amy's diapered butt as she stood - it was so tempting! - but the two were still pretty nascent. Besides, getting early access to Academy from Mia Moore herself? It was like Christmas. I came back with my laptop in my hands and sat down with another crinkle beside Blossom. I opened up the laptop and typed in my password. I was a good typer, so it didn't matter if Blossom was watching: there was no way she could follow my fingers. Academy A popped up, since it was the last thing I was doing. I scrolled to the start of the chapter. Chapter Seven Earlier That Day Wendy St. James fumbled with her hair ribbon, trying to tie her short black hair up into a ponytail. Strands kept falling out, framing her face, until she finally gave up. [Academy A: Chapter 7] (If you are following Academy Works, please read Ch.7 [linked above] and return here to continue the story. It is recommended that you DO NOT read Ch.8 at this time.)

24.) "Helloooooooo~" Blossom called out as she stepped into the living room of the beach house, hands loaded down with paper bags of Indian food. She kicked the door closed behind her with one foot, and then walked to the kitchen island to put the food down. She'd seen the car out front - the one she presumed belonged to, or was being borrowed by, Amanda, so she figured she was here. Probably upstairs. Blossom listened for a callback, a "I'll be right down" or something of the sort, but dead silence hung in the air. So Blossom kicked off her sandals and went upstairs to look for Mia. Amanda. Amandia? Amy? Oh, Amy was cute. A knock at the door roused me. I had been writing for hours, and I just stopped for a moment to close my eyes. I hadn't been sleeping great recently, and being Little always made me feel so comfortable. It took me a second to remember where I was - what I was wearing - and it was about one second longer than Blossom had patience. She opened the door to the bedroom and I immediately tugged the blanket up to my neck. My laptop toppled off my lap, slammed shut, and slid to the floor with a hopefully-not-too-destructive clamor. "Oh no! Your computer!" Blossom rushed over to the bedside and picked up the fallen device, looking at it from a couple different angles for damage before offering it apologetically back to Amanda. "I didn't mean to startle you, I hope your computer is okay…" "I-it's fine..." I had the covers pulled tightly to my neck and my face felt hot. Everything felt a little far away, like I wasn't fully awake. "You can just put it down wherever... I'll be right down." "Okaaayyyy, I got Indian for dinner. I didn't know what you liked with spice and stuff so I got a few things. Anything you don't like, I'll eat." There was a pause for a moment and Blossom bit her lip because all the pieces were starting to add up. Flushed cheeks. Blanket pulled up tight like she was hiding something. Surprise and tension when Blossom had entered the room; she wasn't an idiot. So with a careful thought of deliberation, she casually dropped her conclusion. "You can leave your diaper on when you come down~" And she winked playfully and turned to leave the room. "I... I'm not...!" Blossom left and I sat dumbfounded on the bed. When I was sure she was gone, I lowered the blanket and rubbed my eyes. Ugh, I couldn't believe she walked in like that... Then I remembered my laptop. I hurried to the edge of the bed and grabbed it from where Blossom set it down, opening it up. The screen... turned on. No cracks. I typed in my password. Academy A came up first thing. I let out a deep sigh of relief and hit save. If it had broken, I don't know what I would have done. I didn't have money to get it fixed. I'd probably have to get Blossom to do it... it was her fault anyway! Walking into the room like that... or maybe she would use it against me. "Sure, I'll fix your laptop. I know how important your story is for you. All you have to do is one thing for me..." And then my mind transitioned into the line she told me in real life. "You can leave your diaper on when you come down." People don't say that, Blossom! That's something you say in stories! I'd never been in the same room as someone else when I was wearing a diaper, and now she wanted me to go walk around in one? Of course not! Obviously the answer was to get changed. Obviously I was supposed to just pretend none of this ever happened. But the way she smiled... it was like out of a story, it really was. The smirk. The knowing glances. I bit my lip. I couldn't... She didn't tell me to leave it on! She said 'you can leave it on'. Right? Yeah, for sure. I remember that. It wasn't a demand. If I didn't wear it downstairs, she wouldn't even push the issue. But she knew. We both knew she knew. I could lie and pretend, but we both knew. And she'd seen me. Sure, she hadn't seen... it. But she wasn't going to see it anyway! I was going to put on pants! So what was the big deal? The big deal was walking around in front of my high school bully in a diaper! But she's not my high school bully anymore. She knew my name. She looked it up. She wanted to be friends. Just for Academy Works. But so what? Wasn't that cool? Having someone that wanted to read my stuff? Who roleplayed a scene from my own stories with me? And someone who knew... someone who understood... Or was it a game? A trick? No, the needle of reason had tilted the other way. She was going too far for this to just be a way to humiliate me. So then what was I supposed to do? Change. Obviously change. Or... I knew I'd regret it. Of course I would! But fine, so what. She humiliates me. She takes pictures or something and shows her friends. Everyone calls me a pedophile or something. So what? So I drop out of school and live with my mom for the rest of my life. Unless someone tells my mom. ...ouch. That one hurt. I pulled my knees to my chest and closed my eyes. I felt kind of sick. I hadn't eaten anything since cereal. My eyes stung with sleep and tears. I wanted to... I wanted to go down there and just be normal and cute and maybe have someone actually say something nice about me and maybe I'd actually believe it! I fumbled around in my jeans pocket until I found my phone. Two missed calls, both from Blossom. A few hours ago. Fifteen minutes ago. I wiped the tears from my eyes and opened up my texts with her. >>It's not what you think Delete. >>I'm sorry I didn't thi Delete. My hands were shaking. >>I'm scared?? Send. >>Oh baby girl I am so sorry 😦 I can only imagine how scary it must be. I closed the blinds and locked the door once I got downstairs. Is there anything else I can do to help you to be less scared? Blossom was sitting on the sofa when she sent that, and she'd spent the past few minutes agonizing in her head over why she'd been so bold. Obviously she'd been so bold because she was Blossom and she wasn't shy and she was really good at getting what she wanted, or rather at making people want to give her what she wanted. But this wasn't an 'I'll flash you my tits if you let me in kind of moment'; no amount of tall-leggy-blonde-cheerleader-with-big-boob charm could help this situation. Could it? She thought about that for a moment and eyed her phone. Maybe she should be flirtier. When people flirted with Blossom, it always made her feel more confident and attractive, right? >>I feel stupid I was trying to stop my hands from shaking. She was being so nice. She wasn't trying to hurt me or anything! So why was I acting like this? People go to those munches and parties or whatever all the time. People take pictures of themselves in diapers for Twitter! Why was I such a fucking coward? >>I bet you look cute as can be, I have been thinking about you ever since I got downstairs and I bet the reality is even cuter than what my mind can come up with! ❤️ >>You are my ambassador to this, so you should grab your pompoms, take a deep breath, and come downstairs with your best cheer smile on! >>I don't cheer Her metaphor hadn't gone over my head, despite the misattributed audience. She had never even worn a diaper. But somehow, that felt worse. She had never even worn a diaper, and I was supposed to go down there in front of her like this? But my mind kept jumping back to that first sentence. Cute as can be. I would just disappoint her... >>I will cheer for you when you get to the top of the staircase. I do not have my uniform, but I will cheer for you in support and encouragement! Blossom began going through rhyming words in her head to see if she could pull together a line or two to chant for Amanda when she came down; she was pretty good at this stuff. Amy Amy Amy, she's cute and smart and that's not all, Mia Mia Mia, she's grown-up but she's also small. Something like that? Hmm. >>No please dont Just the thought of someone drawing that much attention to me... I felt queasy. This was a bad idea. Why was I texting her? I should change... >>Okay, no cheers this time! 🥰 Listen I think you are super super cute and there is nowhere else I would rather be right now than here with you. So get your cute and crinkly booty down here because if your dinner goes cold I might just have to assume you don't know how to eat and will have to feed you~ Was that too much? Too forward? But it sounded like a story trope, so Blossom gambled on the praise, encouragement, and a little wish fulfillment to do the trick. I bit my lip and read the message at least a dozen times before replying. It sounded like something out of a story, like a speech one of S&P's 'best friend characters' would give. I knew Blossom wasn't my best friend, but... >>I dunno... >>Come on, food smells amazing! Radical confidence! Maybe I just needed her to talk about something else other than the diaper. Maybe I just needed to remember there was something other than my clothes and impending humiliation. There was food, and I was hungry... I didn't send another text back, and I came downstairs in my ordinary clothes: a t-shirt, jeans, and a light jacket. But if Blossom was particularly preceptive, she may have noticed that I wouldn't make eye contact with her. Or she may have heard the slight rustling of plastic coming from my direction. Blossom was already unpacking the Indian food on the kitchen island, where two adjacent stools were pulled up to the bar. I stepped cautiously up to one and sat down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, which was a surefire way to be extremely conspicuous. Oh Amanda was absolutely wearing a diaper, and Blossom was so into it! But it was like knowing which presents were which on her birthday and having to pretend like she didn't know - thankfully, Blossom was pretty good at performing. So her smiles were pretty standard Blossom smiles, and Blossom focused mostly on the food and explaining what she'd gotten for the two of them. But every time she got the chance, she'd sneak glances at Amanda, because… well… the whole thing was kind of hot, okay? I liked Indian food. Rice and curries and bread; what's not to like? But the anxiety of what I was wearing really spoiled the meal. It wasn't until halfway through eating when Blossom brought up a topic that was actually more interesting than what I was wearing. "So how did writing go?" "Oh, uh... pretty good. I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere." What I meant was: I had finished another chapter. That seemed kind of trivial to me, but Blossom was beaming. "I'm so fucking proud of you, Amy!" As far as Blossom could remember, that was the first time she'd called Amanda by that diminutive. "Writer's block is the worst. Are you happy with the chapter?" "Uh... I think so?" Amy? Nobody had called me Amy before. When I was a kid, I got Mandy a lot. I liked it because it rhymed with "candy", but when kids in middle school started calling me Manly instead I hard switched back to Amanda. "I have a friend I send my chapters to and she gives them a look. I was going to do that when... well. You happened." I tried not to think about it. I knew I brought it up, but that's just how I am sometimes. Self-destructive. I quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, if she approves it I'm going to post it tonight. I think I've kept people waiting long enough." "Babes, that's fan-fricking-tactic!" "It's a really good chapter," I said, maybe to reassure myself more than to reassure Blossom. "I wanna read it!" Blossom was almost bouncing in her chair; she looked like a little kid. "You can read it when I put it online," I said, taking another bite of naan. "Nooooo! You're gonna make me wait?" The taller girl batted her eyelashes and she was really good at doing an eyelash bat. "But what if, what iiiiifffff you let me read it and you can watch me react live? Yeah?" "I can watch you do that anyway," I said flatly. "At least wait until my friend gets back to me, okay? I want it to be impressive..." "You want to impress me?" Blossom smirked. I didn't know how to answer that. Of course I did, but truthfully, I wanted to impress everyone. I just wanted to be good at something. "Do you want the rest of my curry?" I asked, deflecting her question. "I'm kinda full." "Put it in the fridge for later. We've got all weekend and Indian makes great leftovers." Blossom would have offered to do it, and she still might, but she wanted to create an opportunity for Amanda to get up off her stool and walk around. While a part of Blossom felt bad for objectifying Amy, she really couldn't help herself. I didn't think twice about it until I was two steps to the fridge. The bulk between my legs made me freeze in place, just for a second, but the crinkling was another problem. It wasn't that loud, but it was loud enough. There was no way Blossom didn't know... but she wasn't saying anything. Maybe it was best to keep it that way. I put the curry and extra naan in the fridge and stood awkwardly by the counter. "It baffles me how you don't look at yourself in the mirror every morning and just fawn over how cute you are, Amy. But I get it; we're our own worst critics, after all, aren't we?" Blossom leaned over the counter with a happy smile on her face. How do you say to someone 'I'd love to see you in a diaper' without it sounding weird? There wasn't a way, was there? "Thanks... I guess..." I didn't believe her, but I didn't know what else to say. I felt awkward. Things didn't feel this awkward last time. Was it because of the diaper thing? Or was it because of her walking in on me earlier, or the texts? I just wanted it to be easier... like last time. Maybe I messed things up worse than I thought when I called her out for not knowing my name. Amanda was clearly on edge. Blossom wasn't sure the best way to fix that, but she had thought to bring a backup plan with her this time. "You've been really good at being vulnerable and stuff, and I was thinking this past week if there was anything I could do to… I don't know, level the playing field, maybe?" This was where Blossom would give her new friend an opportunity to suggest something, or else she'd fall back on her initial planned idea: the photo album on the backseat of her car. From her vacation to Arizona, when she was in middle school. "You don't have to level anything," I said honestly. But I didn't want to tell her what I was thinking: that the playing field was already so off balance that I was afraid of tilting it any further. She was a rich girl who had a beach house. She was in a sorority. She really shouldn't have been spending any time with me. "I know I don't have to. I don't have to do anything. But… I want to. I think it'll help! And it'll probably diffuse some tension too. Will you trust me?" Blossom held out her hand for Amy's. It was like that scene out of Aladdin. Trust her... last week's Amanda sure wouldn't have. Last week Amanda wasn't even here. I was Mia then. But this week? I dunno. Even if I didn't trust her, I wanted to try. I put my hand in hers. She led me away from the counter, which was both a wonderful and horrible experience. Being led around by the hand with the thickness of a diaper between your legs? It was a feeling I can't put into words, a feeling that is probably very different for a lot of people. But for me, it was an amazing feeling. However, the crinkling, the reminder that Blossom knew what I was wearing, made my heart race in a bad way. Finally, Blossom sat me down on the sofa and left the room. I exhaled sharply and put my head in my hands. What was I doing here...?

Friday, October 21st 23.) Friday came just on time. My fight with Blossom had given me some ideas for Academy Works; I wanted to take it in a new direction. But just as I was pouring myself a bowl of cereal, my mom's car pulled up in the driveway. Oh no... "You're home early?" I asked, a little sullen. Maybe she forgot something? "Interesting tidbit," Mom said, putting her keys on the hook by the door. "Mr. Whitlock's 'work retreats'" - she put those two words in air quotes - "turned out to be a little more play than work. He didn't show up to the office today, so the district manager told us to go home." "That's..." I paused to take a bite of my Fruit Loops, "actually not surprising at all." "Anyway," she shrugged, "no work until Monday. Got plans?" Not anymore, I thought. "Homework probably." "What about that girl?" my mom asked, taking a can of Diet Coke out of the fridge. They were her vice since she quit smoking; that was nine years ago. "Blossom? She's at school until six." "Are you going back up to her cabin this weekend?" Beach house, but no. "We didn't make plans." "Don't hang around here on my account," my mom warned me. "I've got a book I need to finish for Book Club, and Janice wants to go to the spa." Spa trips were a luxury item for my mom, usually once every few months. I used to go with her when I was younger, but I really didn't find pretty nails or body rubs from strangers to be very rewarding. Maybe I'd go anyway. After finishing breakfast, I went back upstairs to start my homework. I checked my phone first: a text from Blossom. >>SooOoOooOo... how is writing? I typed back: >>Mom came home early. No alone time. No writing. -__- >>Oh no! Is your Mom okay? Is it an emergency that she came home for, or is it just casual? >>Do you want to go to the beach this weekend? 💗 You could get some writing done! I really appreciated Blossom's invitation - just as I did the weekend before - but the fundamental problem seemed to persist: I needed some privacy to write Academy Works. It always came more naturally to me when I was all dressed up. I couldn't do that with my mom in the house, and I couldn't do it with Blossom either. >>Thanks but it won't help. I need it to be just me. >>You can go up there early if you want. I am in class until six. >>You're also my ride. I couldn't bike that far. Then again, my mom always drove with Janice to the spa... hm... >>Well if you can get a ride you can go up there ahead of me, I would love to be able to give you the chance to write 💚 There were a lot of people who were the unconditional fixer types, the sort that would have said oh just take my car or something equally problem-solving. Blossom wasn't that kind of girl, but to her credit she'd pushed herself past her comfort zone a lot for Amanda. I should have just turned her down, but I had a really interesting idea for Chapter Seven of Academy A. I didn't want to wait another week to give it a shot, and I needed to get out of this writing rut. With reluctance, I typed back: >>Gimme a sec. I asked my mom if I could use the car. She didn't care, as long as I was home by Sunday evening. She even said something about it being "safer if I have my own vehicle", since I was going so far away. I admit, relying on Blossom to bring me home last Sunday was really awkward. I sent another text to Blossom: >>Okay so I sourced a car... how do I get in?? >>The code is 8081, just make sure that if you leave to go anywhere that you lock it back up! I accidentally left the water and stuff on so that is all fine. You should bring some things too just in case we want to role play again 😉 😘 The roleplay wasn't something we talked about since that night. My cheeks were a little warm at the thought, but I elected not to reply to the message. I had to bring some baby stuff, but it had nothing to do with Blossom or the roleplay thing. If I wanted to write, I needed some supplies. Within the hour, I had my stuff packed into my mom's sedan. I had to stop at a CVS to grab some baby powder and wipes. Then I started the long drive up to Blossom's beach house. It was cold, especially so for the middle of October. The beach was completely empty, and the sky was covered with clouds. I wondered if it would rain; it would add a nice ambiance. I punched in the door code and let myself into the house. It was only two in the afternoon; tons of time to write before Blossom got out of class and made it up here. I pulled out my phone to text her all the same. >>Here, safe and sound. Gonna write. >>I am glad you found your way there! I finish at six and I will get some dinner on the way up. Are there any foods you do not like? ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ >>No fish?? I could stomach most things, even the things I didn't like, but fish always made me gag. I slid my phone into my jeans pocket and took my bag up to the spare bedroom. It was weird being in someone else's house. If it wasn't for the big wave on the far wall, I would have thought I walked into the wrong place. Some stern businessman would walk down the stairs, speaking in that voice that oozed power and control. "What are you doing in my home?" "I... I'm sorry, I must have walked in–" "What do you have there? That bag. Hand it over." I would do so without thinking. He would unzip it just as I remembered the kinds of things I brought with me. Diapers. A shirt with puffy sleeves. Children's pajamas. My cheeks would burn red. I couldn't come up with the next part of my fantasy - probably something about breaking and entering and not calling the police, or all the power he had in the city or something - because I had reached the spare room and I didn't have a lot of time to waste. I unzipped the bag and pulled out a store-brand adult diaper, a puffy-sleeved shirt with a kitten on the front that I found at Hot Topic, and the container of baby powder. I remembered the first scene I wrote where someone diapered themselves; I was fourteen years old and writing Doctor Who fanfic. It seemed easy enough: unfold the thing, pull it between your legs, and tape it on. When I got my first diaper a few years later, I realized how wrong I was. Luckily, practice makes perfect. For me, I had the opportunity to practice maybe once a week for the past four years of my life. That's what, 200 diapers? I couldn't think about that right now... all the money I'd spent. A pang of guilt reverberated through my stomach. I picked up the thin plastic rectangle and crinkled it for comfort. Diapers... how did I get myself into this weird fucking fetish? I stripped off my jeans and panties and unfolded the diaper, flattening it out on the bed. Lay down. A bit too much powder, just for fun. Pull up between my legs, and... Nope, too high. I lifted my butt and moved the back waistband up a little. I sat back down and pulled the diaper between my legs again. Better. Everyone online says to do the bottom tapes first, but I could never figure out why. Maybe it was my fat thighs or something; it made the whole thing feel tight and off-balance. So I taped the top one on the right, then the top on the left. The bottom ones barely made it to the landing zone. I had to redo one of the top ones, but the tapes had some stickiness to them and it wasn't really a problem. Before sitting up, I squeezed my knees together. The thickness pushed my thighs apart, ever so slightly, and I felt a wave of happiness and comfort and embarrassment warm my chest. It had been a while. I got up on my feet and took off my top. The floofy-sleeved shirt came down just past the waistband of my diaper, loose-fitting over my stomach. I knew I had to get writing, but I took a moment to glimpse myself in the full-body mirror by the closet. I could have used some makeup. Blush or something. Hair ties! I always forgot hair ties. But the girl in the mirror... me... I was so cute. I hadn't felt that cute since... well, since the last time I was wearing that same outfit. I drifted happily back to the bed and fished out my laptop. I plugged the charger into the wall and crawled under the covers. As a final thought, before I settled in, I reached down and grabbed a pacifier from my bag. I plopped it between my lips and sunk happily into the bed. I opened Academy A. Chapter Seven Earlier That Day

Tuesday, October 18th 22.) I woke up Tuesday morning to two text messages from Blossom. The first one said "I miss uu ;__;", just like that. The second one was a picture of her in a bar with a friend. She was clearly drunk. I rolled over in bed and tried not to think about it until school. Maybe I should message back. Maybe I should pretend the weekend never happened. Maybe we could still be friends, or whatever we almost were. Maybe I could still talk about Academy Works with somebody. But then, whenever I thought about her, when I thought about us, I felt queasy. Like she was twisting me up inside. I couldn't deal with this today. I still hadn't written Chapter 7 of Academy A, and I was sleeping in uncharacteristically high quantities. I was behind on my schoolwork. Unfortunately, Tuesday afternoons also marked the class I had with Blossom. Luckily for me, her "spheres" rule or whatever meant she wouldn't talk to me in public. I just had to avoid eye contact with her for 90 minutes and I could go about the rest of my life. Until Thursday, anyway. *** Mia didn't message Blossom back, but it was probably for the best. Like most nights out when she didn't hook up with someone else, she wound up making out with Becky some and getting really drunk. And while Becky had been hoping that the alcohol would get Blossom's mind off this girl, it probably had done the opposite. The next day, at school, Blossom didn't hear a damn thing during the class she had with Mia. Between trying not to stare and trying not to think about the weekend together, Blossom had only enough room in her head for one more thing, and that was her desire to answer Mia's question. What was her name? Would it even matter? She imagined going up to Mia, all proud and beaming, oh I know your name! Bam. Now you'll forgive me for every awful thing I've done, right? Blossom knew it wouldn't work that way. She was, as Becky had aptly pointed out, not very good at chasing people. Heck, last night she'd even thought about sending yearbook photos of her from middle school to Mia, as though Mia seeing Blossom at her worst would be any kind of atonement. She dropped her pencil as she sat up with a start. Yearbook. High school yearbook. I glanced over for just a second when Blossom's pencil hit the ground. We caught each other's eyes, for just a moment. She seemed... happy. A smile. Probably because she had a good night at the bar. But before I could get another read on her, I turned back to my notebook. I needed to pay attention to something else. Her high school yearbook would have Mia in it, right? And her name. Even if knowing the answer wouldn't change anything, maybe the effort was worth something. The problem was? She didn't have her yearbooks here in the sorority house. Maybe one of the other sisters did. In fact, she was sure of it. And even if they didn't, it would only be a few hours out of her way to pop in and see her Dad and look through her own. You just hold tight, Mia. Or… whatever your name is. Blossom's on the case. *** Lin wanted to hang out. I didn't have the energy. I climbed into bed at seven o' clock, having finished almost all of my dinner and almost none of my reading. When I woke up, it was the middle of the night. One something. My bedside clock was never very accurate - the timer inside must have been broken because I had to reset the minutes every few months. I reached for my phone out of instinct. I hadn't checked DailyDiapers since that weekend. I didn't want to read any other comments like that last one. Everyone probably assumed my story was dead. But I had three messages on my lock screen. Mom. >>I'm working early in the morning. Have a good day! Lin. >>We actually beat the Third Circle on savage omg ;__; Buy a lotto ticket because MIRACLES ARE HAPPENING Blossom. >>Amanda Pearson! ...huh. I only replied to Blossom: >>Nice sleuthing, Sherlock. I locked my phone and rolled over in bed. I wondered how she figured it out, but it didn't really matter. So she learned my name. She officially accomplished what literally any stranger could accomplish in ten seconds. But what really bothered me was why she'd figured it out at all. After ten or so minutes of debating with myself, I rolled back over and picked up my phone. Blossom's texts were still up. I sent a new one: >>It doesn't matter?? I was just trying to make you mad. The reply came back after only a few seconds. >>Well you did not make me mad babes, but you did make me sad 😢it is my fault for not knowing tho!! >>Sorry.. I dropped my phone on the bed and put my head in my pillow. She's the one that doesn't know my name, and somehow I'm still the one that fucked up. My phone buzzed before I could spiral any further than that. >>Drop your cookies, babes, it is okay!! 💕 I am sorry I did not know your name. As an apology, I offer u this heart 💖 and also this heart 💜 and also my sincerest apologies. I like you, Amanda. That made one of us. With a sigh, I typed back: >>You can call me Mia, idc >>I was attracted to you at first because of your writing, but spending the weekend together and getting to know you as a person showed me how much more there is to u & the more I learned the more I liked you. So while I met Mia, I got to know Amanda. So I will call you Amanda! Uh... I rolled over onto my stomach and read the message a few times. I didn't really get it. What was so interesting about me? All I did was cook and complain. Maybe she liked my cooking, because it probably wasn't the complaining thing. With reluctance, I sent a message back. >>Amanda is fine too?? It sure didn't have the allure of 'Mia Moore', but it meant something. The spheres of my two disparate lives had become a Venn diagram. As small an overlap as it may have been, the symbolism was profound. *** Things with Blossom were a little better after that. More texting, usually for no good reason. She still wouldn't talk about Academy Works in text, so we had to supplement our conversation with other points of interest. She opened up about her family. Her mom died during childbirth, which was really hard for her dad. She loves her dad a lot, but sometimes gets sad around Mother's Day. I knew she didn't have a mom, but I didn't know why. Alternatively, my dad ran off when I was a kid. Four or five. I never really got the whole "why didn't he love me?" trope on TV. If he didn't want to be around my mom and me, I'm glad he left. I don't really get sad around Father's Day. Maybe her dad and my mom would meet up at an art gallery or a gala or wherever white people meet. And we'd have a Yours, Mine, and Ours situation on our hands, except rather than trying to break our parents up we'd conspire to get ourselves put back into diapers. "Mom! Blossom wet the bed again!" "Well you still sleep with a teddy bear!" "Amanda! Blossom!" her father would say. "Why can't the two of you get along?" "When I was a kid, I would have loved to have a new sister," my mom would say. "Well I'm not a kid," I'd argue. "I'm twenty!" "Yeah," Blossom would scoff. "Maybe if we were still kids... but there's no way we'll be real sisters now." Plant a few websites on my mom's laptop... a few weird magazines appear in her dad's office... Yeah, even in fiction this idea kind of sucked.

21.) "You're not going to let this go, are you?" Blossom's reluctance to talk about her weekend was definitely cause to make her best friend suspicious, especially because Blossom was actually trying to avoid talking about it instead of just playing coy. Besides, Blossom actually seemed… somber. That wasn't like her at all. "I called you twice," Becky said sharply, wagging her finger like she was talking to a dog or something. "We had a meeting about the house chores. One of our pledges left. AND. We need to figure out what to do for Homecoming next month! You're supposed to be helping with this stuff, Blossom." A sorority sister taking a few days off wasn't ordinarily a big deal. Actually, this time it wasn't a big deal either. Becky wasn't even an officer; she was just worried about her friend and piling on Blossom's responsibilities seemed like a good way to figure out what was going on. "Maybe I was interviewing a new pledge?" Blossom offered, hypothetically, hoping that maybe framing this with responsibility in mind would be enough to get Becky to back off. Unfortunately, it didn't go the way she planned. "Is that what we're calling it when you seduce a cutie at the bar and take her home? Interviewing?" "I mean, I am measuring certain skills and talents, aren't I?" Blossom smirked. "You're such a slut." "But in a good way, right? And maybe I was just being a slut all weekend?" Becky had joined the sorority around the same time as Blossom, and the two had been pretty good friends ever since. A lot of Becky rubbed off on Blossom and vice versa; Blossom grew a little more aware of her actions and Becky got a little more extroverted. It was a good trade. Balanced. "Seriously," Becky said sharply. "Just keep me in the loop, okay? It doesn't inspire confidence when I have to take you to pick up your car in the middle of nowhere." "That was one time! You know I'll keep you in the loop." Blossom gave a reassuring smile, and Becky rolled her eyes. "Except when you don't." "Alright, maybe I wanna talk to you about something." Blossom paused on this and took a deep breath. "About the weekend. But this is like... best friends, if we were little kids this would be a pinky promise, kinda thing." Becky blinked in surprise. She was so used to going back and forth with Blossom and not getting anywhere, that this slight concession seemed so grand in scale. She quickly nodded her head. A secret? Was Blossom trusting her with something like that? "Of course! What can I do?" "So I spent the weekend with this girl," to which Becky's eyes lit up and Blossom hushed her by raising her hand because she had a lot more to say, "and she's super cute, sweet, really shy and awkward but like in that cute way?" "Like those girls who dress up as video game characters?" "What? Kinda? I guess. Anyway as it turns oooouuuutttt... I was a super mega bitch to her in high school. Big surprise, right? I was a big mega super bitch to everyone in high school." "Hm..." Becky's mind was trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but unfortunately Blossom's high school was pretty close by. Half the girls on campus came from that school. Shy, cute, awkward... no one in particular was coming to mind. And it was a girl! Usually Blossom favored guys. Becky wanted to ask her name, but Blossom wasn't the type to share that kind of thing. "If she is still holding a grudge," Becky offered, "then she's not good enough for you anyway. She should be able to recognize that you're not the same person as you were back then." "Well... it's more complicated than that." How much more complicated? Blossom had to keep her spheres of separation in her head to stop one world colliding with the others. Careful word choices. "I… don't know her name." Deep pause. Awkward silence. "And it wasn't until we'd spent most of the weekend together that she called me out on it and I choked." "Classic Blossom..." Becky sighed. "You should have written it down somewhere. Like, you could have made a contact for her on your phone or something." Becky did that a lot: gave solutions for past problems. "I could have done that if I knew her name in the first place, but I don't." And that was a Blossom issue. She could identify that she'd made this girl's life miserable in high school, but not know her by name. She was honestly pretty pissed off at herself, because there was no way Mia didn't think she was just some shallow vapid bimbo fangirl. "I really like her. I feel like we had something, and I fucked it up." "Oh..." Becky paused for a moment, taking in that new information. So she hooked up with some nameless girl and now she had feelings for her? "Listen, you aren't this kind of girl," Becky said. "You don't chase after people. If she wants another chance with you, then she can seek you out! If not, then clearly she's not interested." "Even if she were interested," Blossom groaned and grumbled, "she's too caught up in her own head to do anything about it. So here I am, having fucked up, and she barely said a word to me the whole drive home. And you're right, I don't chase people, so how am I supposed to chase her? I don't even know how. What do I do?" Becky took Blossom's hands in hers. She looked Blossom in the eye and tried to be as serious as possible. "You can't just save this random girl from herself. She's gotta make her own decisions. You wanna know what to do? Forget it. She'll find you or she won't. But you're better than this." How the heck did Blossom even begin to articulate how she was feeling without her spheres colliding and collapsing? It was so frustrating, because she knew her best friend was right. She didn't chase. People chased her. Boys. Girls. Enbies. Subs. Doms. Tops. Bottoms. Switches. People wanted her and for all the reasons that they did, Mia just... didn't. "She spent a long time worrying that I was just... going to prank her, or blackmail her, or take advantage of her. And I just got her to trust me, and... it's so fucking... ugh." Becky pouted. Her advice wasn't working and it felt a lot more like Blossom was intentionally not listening to her. She let go of Blossom's hands. "Let's go out tonight? Me and you. We can forget this dumb girl and have our own good time. Okay?" Blossom wanted to argue that Mia wasn't dumb, but she could also see Becky starting to feel discouraged and she was pretty determined not to pick up Mia's bad habit of internalizing everything and getting stuck in her head. "Okay but you have to wear that pink dress." "The one with the stripes?" "No, the one with the frills." "Ugh. Okay, deal, but no more talking about this other girl tonight - tonight is about you and me." "Okay." She could agree to that. Besides, Becky might not have been the right person to try and talk about Mia with anyway; Becky had only known Blossom at her best. She didn't know gawky middle school braided braced-faced girl Blossom. Fuck, if only Mia could have seen her back then, there wouldn't have been any tension at all. They would have probably been friends. But tonight wasn't about Mia. It was about Blossom and Becky, out and having fun. Or, it would be, until Blossom was drunk enough that she couldn't be held responsible for her actions.

Monday, October 17th 20.) "You've been gone all weekend, you won't tell me where, and you look like you actually got some sun on your skin, so you can't pretend like you were just in your room all weekend." Lin narrowed her eyes like she was trying to solve an escape room, wheels turning silently behind thick rimmed glasses. "You know I know something is up." "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I sighed. We were sitting across from one another in the cafeteria. Lin lived in a dorm on campus, so she came to the cafeteria a lot more often than I did. She was eating a bowl of Reese's Puffs cereal and I was nauseous from not sleeping. "Try," Lin challenged. So I did. "A sorority girl I went to high school with invited me up to her summer beach home for the weekend." Lin cocked her head to the side and then pursed her lips, and then raised a finger as she chewed her cereal. Was this a part of the puzzle? Was her best friend messing with her? "Okayyyyyyy. Why? Was it some A.A. reparations-to-people-you've-hurt kinda thing?" "I don't know," I answered honestly. Sure, there was the Baby Stuff thing, but that didn't mean Blossom had to invite me on a weekend vacation together. Then again, taking me that far away from college meant she didn't have to deal with me bumping into her friends. That was the real reason, wasn't it? "Maybe it was a sorority dare?" Lin suggested. I shrugged. I knew that wasn't it, but I didn't want to correct her. Explaining everything was so much harder. The truth was, as much as I worried about everyone at college knowing I was an ABDL writer, nobody in college really cared about anything. Unless you were a homophobe or an anti-vaxxer, everyone just let you do your own thing. Even sororities - which always seemed like huge communes of vindictive white girls in movies - were really just groups of hot chicks who liked to party. The worst thing that could happen if everyone found out was that I'd stop writing Academy Works. I would be too nervous about who would read it. I wanted to get the topic off me, and certainly off Blossom, so I flipped the focus onto Lin. "What did you do all weekend? I didn't hear from you." Lin allowed the topic to change. She raised her fork (which she insisted was better for cereal than a spoon) as she recounted her weekend. "Nothing like what you got up to, I'm sure; I was tutoring all Saturday because my morning tutor is worried about flunking their makeup exam, so I helped them study the entire day. And then Sunday morning I failed entirely at adulting and played Final Fantasy in my pajamas." All-in-all, a pretty typical Lin weekend. Idioms like that - "failed at adulting" - always had such a different meaning to me. They were so common these days too, like being a grown up was so hard so why not act like children? There was a story idea somewhere in there... "Are you still doing that Pandemonium raid?" Lin groaned, which meant yes. She had a group she made with one of her friends back home, but they never seemed to ever get very far. Lin was a go-getter type, and she didn't like when other players slacked off. "You should play," she urged, like she always did. "You'd be a great healer. And they came out with Sage, which is basically just Elly from Xenogears." "If I had the money for a subscription - which I don't - I still don't have the time. I'm working on a writing thing." One of my favorite things about my friendship with Lin was that no matter how much I talked about my writing, she never wanted to actually read it. Between schoolwork and tutoring, she hated to read. I actually found it surprising that she enjoyed playing Final Fantasy XIV, because it seemed like more reading than gameplay to me. "Well, if you ever get writer's block, you make sure to tell me because I'll get a recruit-a-friend bonus." Lin never actually ventured to explain what that meant, and her best friend never bothered to ask - it was a good transactional friendship. "Okay okay okay. So now you gotta tell me about the weekend with the sorority girl. Like. Everything. Tell me everything." "Well, uh..." Everything? Certainly not. But there were things I could tell her. "We made scones." "So you made scones," Lin corrected. Even though she didn't know about the baby stuff, she did know me pretty well. "I made scones," I laughed. "And we did tanning. And we watched a movie. It was kind of boring?" At least, with that description. The reality hadn't been boring at all. "What did you talk about?" Lin asked. "Writing? Sex?" "Because of all the sex you've had?" Lin teased. "That part of our talks was mostly one-sided," I admitted. "Is she your new best friend?" Lin asked. "I don't even think we're friends." I tried to sound nonchalant about it, but I knew I was sulking a little. "Like you said - it was a reparations thing. I don't think I'll be doing it again." "No, I asked if it was reparations, and you didn't confirm or deny." Lin was notoriously good at remembering specifics about conversations, and that was both impressive and annoying. "So this sorority girl invites you on a weekend away, gets you tanned of all things, talks to you about sex, and you baked scones for her. But I'm supposed to think it's nothing?" "Why would it be something?" Because Blossom flirted with me all weekend? Because we did a sex roleplay thing? Because she made sure to mention a few different times that she liked girls? She didn't even know my name! It was just a game to her. Lin raised an eyebrow and I rolled my eyes. If I were gay, I'd be gay for Lin long before I was gay for Blossom. At least Lin and I could be seen in public together! "Because it clearly was something, and because you're blushing, and I don't think I've ever seen you blush. You don't have to tell me, but if you don't tell me you won't tell anyone." Lin put her fork down and lifted up her most-of-a-bowlful of cereal milk and began to slurp it happily. "I am not blushing. It's hot in here." Did people even blush in real life? Wasn't that just a story trope? But Lin wasn't going to let it go. "I don't know..." I sighed. "It's not like that. I just thought maybe we were getting to be friends. But I was overthinking it." "Why do you think you're overthinking it? Maybe you're overthinking overthinking it. Maybe it's just as simple as it looks, and you're all up in your head because I'm sure you have a Wonder Years narrator in your head at all times." Lin put on a deep voice. "I didn't know it at the time, but Lin was right - more right than she knew." "Yeah, that's how my internal monologue sounds." I was able to switch the topic with a bit of social gymnastics, and I found a way to keep Lin from talking about my weekend for the rest of the day. But my story with Blossom didn't end there. In fact, I didn't know it at the time, but Lin was right... more right than she knew.