Sophie ♥

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.

Sunday, October 16th 19.) That night, Blossom slept very well, she dreamed of being in the Academy with Mia, in all sorts of permutations and combinations of Candy and Caregiver. But the sound of clattering coming from the kitchen pulled her from her slumber. Blossom whined as consciousness and reality took the reins from her dream self. She rubbed her eyes to get them to open, and it seemed like even the sun hadn't woken up yet. That sound? It had to be Mia? But what was Mia doing up? Blossom groaned as she shuffled out of bed and stretched, her pajamas hanging loosely on her well defined body. Time to investigate. I didn't see Blossom come out of her room. I was moving one tray of cookies out of the oven and another tray into it. I set a timer on my phone and went back to the mixing bowl. Butter and sugar. Blossom's beach house had one of those fancy mixing bowls that did the work for you, but I didn't want to make any noise. Anyway, I didn't have one at home so it felt routine to do it by hand. Busy hands. Where did I put those eggs? "Soooo..." Blossom leaned over the kitchen island, resting slightly on her boobs, and looked up at Mia who was pretty obviously going through something because she'd baked like a thousand cookies and the sun wasn't even up yet! "Whatcha doing, Mia Moore?" I didn't hear Blossom. It wasn't that she hadn't spoken loudly enough - any volume is too loud at five in the morning - but I was just lost in the momentum of my actions. Eggs. Vanilla. Whisk. Automated, like the machine on the counter. My pajamas - an old pair of long flannel pants and a t-shirt with some silly slogan about sleeping - were splashed with flour and butter. My wrists were caked with a thin sheen of dried cookie dough. My face had smears of white around my forehead and cheeks. "So you've been at this for a while, huh?" It hadn't taken Blossom long to come to that conclusion, and her eyes watched Mia with curiosity and care, like she was trying to figure out her next move. Clearly Mia was freaking out about something - the intimacy they shared, maybe? - and Blossom wasn't exactly the pinnacle of support when it came to emotional discontent. Like, she did pretty well for keeping her own stuff under control, but when it came to people having their own breakdowns she was far from a fixer-type personality. And still, she was worried about Mia. She wanted her to be okay, so this time she'd just do her best for what that was worth. "Mia, babes, you've made like a thousand cookies, what's up, buttercup?" The next thing I knew, Blossom's hands were taking the bag of chocolate chips out of mine. I looked up at her with a faraway look, like a program in my brain had crashed. Actually, that was exactly how it felt. I reached for the chocolate chips again and Blossom took my hands instead. They hurt when she touched them, aching from all the whisking and portioning. I didn't understand what she was doing... "Alright, can I see these? Can I see you for just a second, Mia? Come on, just over here, just for a second." Blossom held Mia by the hands and worked to get her to take a few steps away from her pathing routine in the kitchen. It was her plan to get her over to the sofa, to get her to sit down, but she wasn't sure how far she would get. "Come on, you're doing great, just a little more, this way." I made it halfway to the living room before I took my hands out of Blossom's and turned back toward the kitchen, but she got in my way. I felt a sickness rising in my stomach, like a mixture of acid and anticipation. Anxiety. I didn't want to cry. "I'm... I'm doing something." It was the first thing I'd said. My throat was dry. "We have more cookies than we can eat," Blossom said, nodding toward the countertops. A thousand was an exaggeration. Two hundred, maybe. Three hundred at most. They littered the countertops in piles. I ran out of plates to put them on. "You're not in any trouble," Blossom continued, "but let's just sit down on the sofa for a sec and talk. I'll hold your hands to keep them busy, if you'd like." The truth was, Blossom didn't know what to do in this kind of situation. She'd seen compulsive and manic behaviors in people before but she was never the friend people came to when they wanted to be helped with something like this. "I have cookies in the oven..." I didn't know why I said that. An excuse to go back to the kitchen? An excuse to start things up again? If I could just get back there, I could get those chocolate chips... my routine was falling behind. I needed the cookies portioned and on a fresh tray before the timer went off. I tried to push past Blossom, but she didn't let me. I was feeling something between scared and angry, and I wasn't sure which way the needle was going to fall. "And I'm sure they're going to be delicious and I like them a bit overdone," Blossom lied with a reassuring smile. She could see the panic and confusion in Mia's eyes and wondered for a second if this were more of a sleepwalking thing and that she shouldn't interfere. Maybe that was just a myth? She couldn't remember. It's not like the education system prepared her at all for mental health crises. "Sit with me, Mia. Come on." Despite her skimpy yellow pajamas, Blossom looked very serious and caring and maternal, with the kind of expression that most people in her life would never have gotten to see. Not aloof, not playful, but seriously caring and concerned. "No, I... I'm busy, I have to be busy..." I shoved past Blossom again, but this time I found my way back into the kitchen, back into my pathing. Chocolate chips. But Blossom took them off the counter before I could reach them. My frustration was boiling over, and my anxiety started to take a back seat. "What's your problem!" It wasn't a question: it was an accusation. Was she playing games with me or something? Was she trying to upset me? My chest tightened and I balled my hands at my sides. Don't cry. "You're stuck in a loop, like that 'one person only tells truths and one person only tells lies' riddle, you're going back and forth, and back and forth, you're making a thousand cookies, which," Blossom took one off the nearest pile to her and took a bite, then continued with her mouth full, "are excellent, by the way." She hoped the levity would mean something, but Mia only seemed to be getting more and more worked up. Maybe this was like the sleepwalking thing. "Why does it matter?" I said it a lot meaner than I meant it. I was curious, but I knew a part of me was challenging her. I wanted her to see that I wasn't worth the trouble. "Because... I care about you?" Blossom said. It was more like a question, more like she didn't even believe it herself. How was I supposed to believe it if she didn't? Tears formed in the corners of my eyes. "You care about me? No you don't. I'm just convenient, because I wrote some stories you're into. Because you can do roleplays and live out fantasies with me and you can't with other people. I'm a placeholder. At least be honest about that." "Mia–" Blossom started. "Do you even know my name?" I interrupted her. "Not my online name. Not Mia. My actual name." That stopped Blossom in her tracks, because – to be quite truthful about it – she didn't. And Blossom wasn't the kind of woman who liked people getting the best of her, and all through high school she'd been the type to have a witty response or a diversion or a bitchy comment to distract from an accused shortcoming. In fact, she was sure she must have launched something like that at Mia in the past, statistically speaking. "Because you never told me," Blossom almost said. But had Blossom ever even asked? She crossed her arms over her ample chest and took a deep breath, deciding instead to lower her defenses. What good would it do to escalate this? "No, I don't…" Blossom said, full of shame. I don't know what I expected. I knew she didn't know me. We'd been in high school together for four years, and college for another two. I just thought... maybe I was hoping she knew who I was, at least a little bit. But I was just Mia to her. I felt tears on my cheeks. I didn't want to cry in front of her. I hurried out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the guest room. I slammed the door behind me, fell forward on the bed, and cried until sleep dragged me away from that beach house. *** We didn't really talk on the drive home. She probably wanted to ask me about Academy Works, but that would just validate what we both knew already: our relationship was just that of a writer and a fan. She shouldn't have pretended like I was anything more than that. I shouldn't have let her suck me in. She dropped me off at my house and we gave our goodbyes. In truth, they weren't good, but they were very likely byes. She didn't have any reason to talk to me again. Sunday night, I baked a cake. It wasn't as good as the one I brought to Blossom's beach house, but it was bigger and more extravagant. I was pushing myself. I wanted to think of anything else, anything other than yelling at her in her kitchen. If I'd only let that go, if I let her win... we could still be friends. Fake friends. But I would have someone to talk about baby stuff with. I would be able to talk about Academy Works. I was back where I started. No, I was in a worse place. What if Blossom told her friends? What if she sought retribution? What if I went to school on Tuesday – two days from now – and everyone in class was reading my stories? In high school, she would have done it. But now? Why did a part of me have faith in her... I wished I had never gone to that munch in the city. I wished Blossom had never figured me out.

NOW we're talkin'!! Thank you so much!! ❤️ I think you'll like where this story goes.

18.) Blossom finally let her character drop and she looked at Mia with a bashful smile and her own flushed cheeks. For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then Blossom rubbed the back of her head. And her words? Not the most elegant, but that was okay. "See? I knew you'd like it. I hope I did okay, I've never really played an established character before." "Yeah..." I sounded so far away. I was warm, but without Blossom's skin on mine, I felt cold too. I felt like something was missing. I shook my head and tried to think about something else. Sports? No, let's not go down that rabbit hole again. "I think I need some water," I said. I still sounded very far away. It wasn't until I was halfway across the room that I realized I hadn't given a very positive impression of all that. So as I got to the kitchen, I stopped, turned around, and smiled. "That was a lot of fun." "Oh thank goodness." Blossom hadn't realized it, but she must have been holding her breath. Mia's endorsement meant the world to her; it had been like waiting for a score to be given at the regionals for her cheer squad in high school. Her racing heart began to calm. "I know I wasn't strictly on script, but I hope it showed you that this might be a good idea?" "Yeah, I think so..." I got a glass from the cupboard and put it under the faucet. I didn't realize I was trembling, just a little bit. Once the glass was full, I held it in both my hands and went back to the living room. "You know," I said, running through the scene again in my head. "You really knew that speech by heart. That one the Matron gives Kione. That was really impressive." She could have improvised some of it for all I knew, but it was still really on point. "I've only read it like a hundred times - it's one of my favorite 'caregiver speeches' from any of your stories. Maybe not like #1 absolute favorite, but picking an absolute favorite is impossible anyway because you write such quality stuff. But definitely one of my favorites." "Yeah well... I think that enthusiasm is hard to fake." I took a sip of my water and checked my fingers. I wasn't trembling anymore. "I suppose this isn't all just a prank then, huh? You really are into all this?" On a conscious level, I knew that. But this was the first time I felt like I could assuage my irrational fears. "I am one thousand percent into this." Blossom laughed when she said that, because she was just so... relieved, that for the first time Mia had expressed some degree of trust in her. Some belief. And that maybe meant her guard wouldn't always be up so gosh darn high. "I promise, I'm not some sinister prankster. I'm just a googly-eyed fangirl who wants to know you so bad. I'm not sure if that's any better, but I promise once you get to know me you'll see I've got some merit!" "Yeah, I think you do." I took another sip of water and let out a long sigh. Gosh, that was a wild ten minutes. "So you do that a lot? I mean, not like that... but the roleplay thing?" I had never done anything like that before! "I've got some experience, yeah. Sometimes you just wanna be someone else during sex, or a scene, or a date, or something. Sometimes you need to be so you can enjoy something you have trouble reconciling. Sometimes it's just fun to be the girl next door that the pervy lesbian neighbor wants to corrupt. This is my first time doing any play in this space, though." Which to Blossom, pretty much put them on the same level together. "Well... I'm glad I could be your first." Probably the only 'first' I would be for Blossom Brixley. But it felt special, like I had carved out a place in her heart. I found a blank part of her soul and wrote my name on it. Or, well, I wrote "Mia Moore". The rest of the night was comparatively tame. We did turn the TV on, and sure enough there was internet. We had leftover scones and talked about ways to turn the plot of James and the Giant Peach into an ABDL novel. It already had the 'lost childhood' vibe, and the big peach could be replaced with a big baby bottle or something. We finally agreed that Miss Spider and Mr. Grasshopper would make the best caregivers, and that Mr. Centipede was a brat waiting to be diapered. That night in the guest bedroom, I ran through the scene I did with Blossom again and again. Forgetting my lines. The fake diapering. Breaking the script. Her words. Her lips. I knew it was just because she was the first person I ever did Little stuff with. I knew I didn't like her like that. I knew she didn't like me either. We were having fun. Adults have fun. They don't need to be in love to find each other sexy, right? I rolled over and buried my head in the pillow. I wished I was at home, in my own bed. I wished I had diapers or something. I wished I could put my hand between my legs without feeling weird or guilty. She got off to my stories all the time, right? Wasn't it fair that I got off to one of hers? But not here. Not in some stranger's bed, with her in the next room. I needed to focus on something else. So I pulled out my laptop and tried writing. Chapter Seven. Aya woke up wet, as she always did. Her mind glossed over the night before, of Mommy Moo's nipple in her mouth, of the soggy diaper between her legs, and the feeling of her hand under her blanket before bed. Her diaper crinkled softly as she pressed up against it with her fingers. A shiver ran up her spine. Her thoughts escaped reality and dove into fantasy. Of Mommy Moo carrying Aya around on her hip through a country home, bouncing with every step and squishing her soaked padding against her caregiver's side. Of Mommy Moo's lips, pressing against Aya's forehead, against her cheeks, but whenever they strayed too close to her lips Aya would get a pacifier instead. Backspace. I wasn't bored this time, but it felt wrong. It felt out of character. Aya wasn't me. Sure, she found Mommy Moo sexy - just like I found Blossom sexy - but Mommy Moo represented something greater. Aya wanted to be a good girl. I wanted to be a bad one. I closed my laptop and fell back into bed. Another sleepless night was ahead of me, I could feel it.

17.) Okay, I knew this part! Kione came out of the pink berry haze and found herself playing with those blocks. We had skipped forward a little bit, but that was probably a good thing. The little bit of a break from Blossom's words had allowed me to reset a bit. I felt a lot more like myself. So, in a very Kione fashion, I stumbled to my feet and tried to imagine what it was like to be standing in front of Blossom in a wet diaper. "I don't belong here," I said sourly, balling my hands at my sides. My irritated voice wasn't as powerful as Kione's, but I thought I did an okay job. Perfect! Perfect! "My my, that was one very quick and sudden tantrum ~ hands balled up, sour voice, pouty face? Matron sees you dropped your binkie." She knelt down in front of Mia, picked up the invisible item from the ground, made a show of twirling it just the same way the Matron did in the story, and held it out for the girl. "I don't need a bink..." I felt my face get hot again. "A pacifier. Or a diaper! And... um..." I couldn't remember what Kione said, so I improvised. "I don't have tantrums. I'm an adult." Okay, the adult claim was a little bit too cliche, and I felt silly the second I said it. I should have studied the script better... Now this was a part of the story that Blossom knew well, not least because this particular speech had been something she'd touched herself to a lot. "It's dinner time." Pause. "You made a deal with your Matron, and if you're too little to follow through on your deals you must be very small indeed." Her own cheeks grew a little warmer with every line she spoke, because this really got her going. "And that means you're preferring to stay inside instead of going out to play. Perhaps you're an infant. Perhaps tummy time on the playmat day in and day out is more your speed. Perhaps you're telling your Matron that you would rather never go and play with your friends, that you would like to just lay on the floor and cry, and be carried around." Blossom could definitely carry Mia around, too; she was just as good at the bottom of the cheer stack as she was at the top. How would Mia react? To be picked up, and hipped? Like in a story, but for real life? Blossom bit her lip. "And maybe tomorrow, because you're so vulnerable, and so small - an infant, remember - you'll be so helpless that you'll wake up a different color. And all your pretty Blueberry friends will forget you, every single one. Because you'll be too small for even the smallest of the small." Silence, for just a second. And finally. "Although... perhaps you're only fussing because you're soaking wet, could that be it? Could it be that you're not an infant at all? Instead, you're a baby, and you just forgot the difference because you're fussy? Could it be that you'd like to go out and meet your friends and tell them all about your day?" I didn't write that. Did I? So much of it sounded familiar, but the way Blossom delivered the words... each one felt heavier and heavier. When she was done, I felt fragile like glass. I felt like a gentle breeze would blow me away, like a girl made of dust. And when I didn't answer, when I forgot to play along with the scene, Blossom stepped forward until we were nearly touching. I took half a step backward and almost fell over. My knees felt weak. In that moment, Kione's thoughts and feelings were about survival. She had to agree, because the alternative was so scary. That was her thing: she was always scared. She needed a guiding hand to push her along, something to be right so she never had to be wrong. On the other hand, in that moment, I wasn't thinking about survival. I was thinking about the opposite. I was thinking about falling further down the rabbit hole. I was thinking - just as I thought when I wrote the scene - about what would have happened if Kione had talked back. "You don't..." Wow, my voice sounded weird. Meek. Small. I cleared my throat and tried again. "You don't scare me..." So that wasn't how the story went, but that kind of only made it more exciting to Blossom; the amount of times she'd read stories and wished for a character to push more, to get punished more, to get taken apart brick by brick and rebuilt as someone new, someone obedient, someone broken in the hottest possible of ways? Innumerable. No script. No guide. The scene would have ended now, with her being sent outside after admitting she was a fussy baby. But Blossom's head swirled with potential. "Everything scares you, dear. An adult knows their fears, and manages them. You're ruled by yours, you're controlled by yours, and that's why you need someone to take you by the hand and make you obey, to control you so your fears don't." Obedience was always a part of the Academy, and Blossom knew it full well; she knew how much it turned her on, she knew how much she'd craved being Bala over and over and over. "You're too scared to be an adult, you're too scared to be a grown-up, to be in panties, or even to be any other color. You're a Blueberry, because you're the smallest, the most helpless, the most frightened. Will you choose the dark, the fear, the alone? Or will you take Matrons hand and choose to obey. To be my good little Candy. My good girl." Take her hand. A good girl. Even without the connotations of Academy Works, Blossom knew all the right words to say. I'm too scared to be an adult, to be in panties, to be anything on my own. I needed her. "I... I am an adult... I am... um..." It wasn't an act; my resolve was faltering. My cheeks were hot and Blossom was so close to me. I took another step backwards, but she followed with a bright, condescending smile. Gosh, she could play a Matron in a movie adaptation or something; she had just the right sort of presence. "You're not an adult, and you're not a big kid, and you don't want to be. You're afraid and your fear is telling you to tell Matron fibs, and good girls don't tell fibs," Blossom advanced on Mia, and she reached her hand out, she put it on her cheek, and she did something she didn't expect to do - she pressed her thumb between the girls lips. Maybe just to see if she'd yield. Maybe to see what would happen. Mostly because she wanted Mia to suck her thumb. Awkward. So awkward! But Blossom's thumb slipped between my lips like butter across a hot pan. It pushed down on my tongue just like the pacifier I had hidden in my bedside table. I felt my back hit the wall - the one with the big wave - and I felt like I was tumbling and crashing along with it. With her thumb in my mouth, she tilted my head up so I was forced to look her in the eye. "You're a Candy. You're not a person. You're a baby. You're not an adult. You belong here, in the Kindergarten. You were never meant to be anywhere else. And if you're good, if you obey, if you do everything right for your Blueberry friends...you'll finally be happy." Blossom wanted to say "Mia" at the end there, she wanted to be talking to Mia, she wanted that so very much, but it would break the scene, wouldn't it? And this was about teaching Mia how to roleplay, how to roll with it, how to let her imagination go. Her thumb was still between Mia's lips, and she spoke very clearly. "Are you ready to be good? And to go play? To be a little diaper wearing, helplessly wet, binkie-in-lips, smallest-of-the-small, perfect little Candy role model? Nod your head." This was perhaps a little more Nana Porter than Matron, maybe. Blossom would analyze her performance later. I nodded my head. I could have argued that she made me, with her thumb between my lips. She lifted her hand, she lowered her hand. She made me nod. But she didn't. I nodded, because I was ready to be good. I wanted to go play. I felt Blossom's lips on my forehead. Warm, like the October sun on the beach when we were tanning. Warm like cinnamon scones fresh out of the oven. Warm like her hand in mine as she led me through the living room with purpose and precision. Then, when she was done, her thumb came out of my mouth. I looked up at her with glossy eyes, a little out of breath, like I'd just climbed a few dozen stairs. Wow…

16.) I stepped out into the living room. It was about as surreal as the Chapel itself, with the big wave on the wall and the kitchen in view. Everything was unbelievably white. I tried to imagine the wooden floors of the Chapel. Then I saw Blossom. Matron. She sure had the height for it... Blossom, for her part, had spent the few minutes it took for Mia to go away and return practicing a voice for her Matron performance. She always imagined them sounding soft-spoken, but a little amused, and that was the tone of voice she went with. She looked at Mia, and with the fluidity of water filling a cup, she began her performance. "It looks like somebody isn't feeling well," she took a few steps to close the distance, smiling that Queen-of-England-smile with reservation. "I bet the berries helped, huh? Are you feeling better?" "I... um..." Did I have a line? No, I didn't think so. I was just supposed to nod happily. So I nodded and tried to smile, but the smile fell short. I was nervous. My heart was racing. Blossom was feeling a little giddy, because the way that Mia nodded with bashfulness struck a chord with her, even if it wasn't perfect to the story. "And did you pick that outfit out all on your own, dear?" Encouraging; praise in the form of prose. Blossom was having a blast already. "I... yes?" I could feel the blush on my cheeks. The way Blossom spoke was so precise, so flawless... it was staged, but it sure didn't sound like it. I shook my head and bit my lip. Did I pick out that outfit all on my own... yes, and... shoot... "I forgot my line," I admitted nervously, looking away from Blossom. I was just dragging down her performance. Why was I even here? Blossom leaned in very close and whispered directly in Mia's ear, using her non-Matron voice. "It doesn't really matter what Kione says, because the Matron is going to respond the same either way. You're doing great!" Standing back up to her full height, Blossom deliberated over moving to the next line and sparing Mia the stress, or giving her a chance to improv. From what she knew of Mia, it was a 50/50 on what was the right move. She'd give her a few seconds to try, and then step in if she couldn't. Her smile of encouragement was completely genuine. "I um..." Berries. Dumb. Silly. Thoughtless. Easy to manipulate. I faked another smile and tried to sound more like... well, like Blossom in high school. "Y-yeah... I picked it out all by myself! Um... I'm gonna..." No, that's not right. "Dun tell anyone, but... see?" Then Kione flipped up her skirt, right? I wasn't wearing a skirt. I stared blankly at Blossom before reaching down and grabbing nothing and pulling it up. The whole thing must have looked so stupid from her perspective. I felt so stupid. My heart was racing and I felt queasy. I just wanted to stop playing... To show solidarity in the improvisation, Blossom adjusted her lines and smiled warmly. "That's lovely, child. You're such a good girl to ask for a diaper. I'll get you changed right away." Blossom reached into her pocket and pressed the button she'd lined up on her phone screen, which turned each of the lights in the living room and kitchen a different color; her little contribution to try and mimic or reference the lights Kione saw in the chapel. The lights really caught me by surprise. Not in a bad way, though. I knew Blossom skipped some stuff, but her mistake actually made me feel a little better. Wait, where were we? "I, um... I didn't ask for..." But Kione was enamored with the lights when they came on, so I let them distract me. I looked away from Blossom at the kitchen light, then at the living room light. The hues mixed in the middle. It was kind of pretty... "That's right, sweetheart, the lights are pretty. How about you tell me which colors you see?" This would have been when the Matron gave Kione the pacifier, but Blossom didn't have an analogue. If she'd thought ahead, she would have brought a ringpop at the store! For now she made do, and reached across to Mia's lips and pressed against them with her finger, symbolizing the insertion of the binkie. I felt a little heat on my cheeks. I didn't remember the colors from the story, but it was easier to use the real colors in the room. Would that be okay? If Blossom could improvise, I could too. Right? "Um... blue, um... aqua... and um... red... and... pink..." I kept looking up at the lights as Blossom moved around me, taking me by the hand. I wasn't sure what happened after this in the story. Kione wet herself and she was changed into a diaper, but neither of those things could happen. I was in uncharted waters. While Blossom had become an experienced performer all through high school, Mia was every bit the wallflower Blossom had been in middle school. She knew how hard this was. Staying in character, Blossom recited her line. "Oh sweetheart, it looks like I was a little too late... and you were such a good girl, suggesting diapers. I hope you can forgive me." She gestured downwards to the floor, where an imaginary puddle might have been. Even though I didn't wet myself, the way Blossom delivered the line felt so... real. I looked down at the spot between my feet, but there was no puddle. Nonetheless, I knew, in the scene, there was. I blushed. Even the thought of wetting myself like that... "I... um..." "I hope you can forgive me," Blossom repeated, prompting me. "I forgive you," I said shyly. That was what Kione said, right? I felt so far away from the script... By this point, Blossom was positively buzzing with excitement all throughout her body. Although this didn't involve actual diapers, and it was all imaginary, and it was basically reading from a script in her head... this felt so exciting, like she was opening a door and getting to see what was on the other side. She was reenacting a scene from Academy Works with Mia-fucking-Moore! "Well thank you, you're such a sweet girl my dear." Warm smile. Pause. Let the praise sink in. And continue. "You couldn't help it, could you? Will you tell your Matron that? Can you tell Matron that you really couldn't help it?" "Um... well, I..." I didn't know Kione's line. I didn't even know if Blossom was still following the script. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't tell if I wrote it or not. But I knew Kione was too far gone on those berries to argue. She would agree. So I nodded my head. "I couldn't help it, Matron..." "Now, child," Blossom said as the Matron, "people who can't help but wet themselves are called babies, so what does that make you?" Pause. Kione excitedly proclaimed that she was a baby here, but Blossom wasn't sure if Mia would be able to get out of her own way long enough to do that. Either way, she'd roll with it. "Well, I... I didn't mean..." Kione's line was slipping my mind. Honestly, everything about that story was slipping my mind. Blossom felt a lot taller than she usually was, which was already quite tall, and I was feeling a little lost. I didn't feel like Kione, but I didn't really feel like myself either. She wanted me to say I was a baby, right? But I'd never said that out loud before… "That's right sweetheart! You're a baby! And a clever one at that, too." Blossom improvised that entire line, but she reached out and pat Mia on the head. She stroked Mia's hair gently, the way the Matron had done to Kione, as she tried to remember her next line. Her hand patted me on top of my head, then her fingers twirled my hair. Her other hand reached out to lightly brush my cheek and I blushed deeper, looking away from Blossom entirely. I was full of butterflies. "And because you're my baby, I'm not going to punish you. Because babies don't know any better. So you'll do something else for me, won't you dear?" She was almost certain she fucked that line up, but the spirit of it mattered more than one hundred percent literary accuracy. The important part was for Blossom to lead Mia the way that the Matron led Kione. "Y-yeah... okay... I'll do something..." Was this still part of the scene? I couldn't think clearly anymore, but I knew Kione's mindset. Agreeable. Easy to twist. Just like my hair. Let her twist me. As Blossom spoke, she was confident enough in her words, but each word made it feel like this scene was less and less about Kione and the Matron, and more and more about Mia and Blossom. She was incredibly turned on. "Your Matron is going to put you in a diaper, darling, because you're a baby and babies wear diapers. And because you're new to diapers, Matron is going to leave you in just your pretty button down shirt and your diaper, so everyone can see it." Her words were thick and syrupy, absolute and warm the way she'd imagined the Matrons to be. "That way, if you forget that you're a baby, your friends can remind you." "Uhhuh... my friends can remind me..." Remind me that I'm a baby. Remind me that I'm in diapers. My face was hot and my heart was pounding, but it felt like everything was in time with music. It felt like a dance, and she was leading. Mia was drifting, like she was a puppet with strings attached, swaying to Blossom's words, and she was loving every moment of it. She held an invisible object in her hands, about how she imagined holding a diaper might look, and held it out for Mia to see. For Kione to see. "It's so cute, isn't it, little one? It's going to match everything in your wardrobe. It's going to look so very cute on a tiny Blueberry," completely ad libbed, adapted from Kione's thought processes; Blossom was super proud of herself. "Come over here, little one. Matron will get you diapered." "Um... I..." I wanted to argue. I would argue! But I wasn't me. I was Kione. Kione would argue! But not Kione after taking those berries. Actually, I wouldn't argue either after taking those berries... so I followed Blossom to the center of the living room, where she sat me down on the floor. My cheeks were on fire. This was so silly, and yet... Blossom laid Mia down on the floor and – channeling the scene from the story – knelt down between Mia's legs. Blossom lifted Mia's ankles up, then set her back down. She faked the pulling of tapes and placing them, one by one, on the front of Mia's jeans. She'd read a lot of diapering scenes in stories, okay? Once she'd done with that, Blossom stood up and smiled with beaming but reserved pride. "There's a good girl. Now you play with your friends for Matron, okay?" Blossom stood up and stepped away. She wished she had toys. Blocks. Anything. What she did have were smart light bulbs, and so to mimic the passage of time she took out her phone and began to cycle the light colors gently from one hue to another, changing constantly, but slowly, trying to harken those feelings Kione must have been feeling. Maybe in the future she could get Mia high? Or more? What did pink stuff feel like, anyway? The diaper change was weird, and having put myself in a diaper before, I don't think it would work quite the way Blossom wanted it to. But it was very cinematic, and I felt very small. The lights changed colors and I watched Blossom play on her phone for a bit. I wasn't sure what to do next. What was I supposed to play with? Without toys, without diapers, without a pacifier, this scene did feel like it missed a little bit, but Blossom was hoping that her performance helped with that. She waited a few minutes and then faded the lights back up to dim beige. The next Matron line was something about... a quick and sudden tantrum, but Blossom needed to bridge it because hours were to have passed. It was completely on Blossom to try to match the quality Mia Moore's dialog. No pressure. "My, darling, you've been playing for hours and you're absolutely soaked through. It's such a good thing that Matron diapered you, isn't it? Or the chapel floor might be positively flooded. It's clear where you belong, isn't it?" It wasn't Blossom's finest improvisation, but all she needed was for Mia to throw a bit of a tantrum. And maybe for her not to notice that Blossom was turned on.

15.) We went grocery shopping after dinner. I got baking supplies and Blossom split the cost with me. When we got back to her beach house, the sun was already setting and the ocean was growing darker by the second. I started unpacking the groceries and wondered idly when I would get to do something like this again. Blossom said next weekend, but maybe she misspoke. She couldn't come out here with me every weekend, right? She had a life. She had real friends. "Do you want some help when you bake?" Blossom asked. "I'm okay with cooking but I've never baked before, and trashy reality TV has taught me that they're way different." Blossom was, more or less, making conversation. She sat on the barstool at the island and watched as Mia put stuff away; Blossom was sucking on a lollipop she'd picked up at the store and twirling it between her lips. "Oh, uh... no, it's alright. I really only do it when I feel like it." It was like I told Blossom before, I just did it to keep my hands busy. It wasn't a hobby or anything. It wasn't like writing. Once I finished putting things away in reasonable spots – and moving around a few things in the kitchen with Blossom's permission – I retired with her to the front room with the big wave wall and the big window. There was a sofa and some chairs and a TV that we had never turned on. I didn't even know if this place had wifi; I didn't bother to ask. The drive up here, the eating together, the putting lotion on each other and laying on the beach; nothing felt quick as intimate to Blossom as sitting down next to Mia on the sofa did. The world was quiet for a moment, just the sound of the waves softly lapping at the sand, and neither Mia nor Blossom said anything for a moment. Another moment passed, and Blossom decided to play a hand. "You said you've been having trouble writing, right? And you also said that a lot of stuff that works in stories doesn't work in real life. And I'm wondering.. if getting to play with some of those ideas and concepts... might help inspire you?" "I don't understand?" Play with the concepts? How could I play with a concept? It's not like I could simulate the Academy or anything. Then again, if I could, writing about it would probably be pretty boring. "I mean if you were thinking about like... things for scenes in the stories but you were unsure how it might actually feel, I'm saying that I'd.... be open to experimenting with that with you. Or just... anything, really. I just think you're working from theory a lot of the time, right? So you have to come up with stuff based on pure imagination, which you do incredibly well. But you have writer's block, so maybe playing with someone else could help inspire you?" "You want to play with me?" I was certain I misinterpreted what she said, but her nod dispelled that certainty. She was serious? "Well..." I inched a little away from Blossom without really thinking. "I think that's cool and all, but... we don't really have anything to play with?" No diapers, no baby stuff. Not even a schoolgirl uniform. "And you've never done any of that kind of stuff." Baby stuff, that is. "And I've never done it with anybody else around." Which might give me a panic attack now that I thought about it. "And what would we even... do?" So that was a sobering question. Both of us were quiet for a moment, thinking about that. What exactly does ageplay look like in the real world, especially when both of us were Littles? "We roleplay," Blossom offered. "We... pick a scene from one of your stories, and we play it out. In real life. And see how it goes? And if it's fun, maybe we can extend past that and do some new things, and maybe help inspire your writing? And if it's not fun, we both know we tried and that's cool too." "This seems like a terrible idea..." How would we roleplay an Academy Works scene in real life? Were we supposed to pretend? I wasn't a very good actress! The more we talked about this, the worse it felt... I kept trying to wrap my head around it, but the whole thing was too abstract. If Blossom wanted to try this, I needed something a little more definitive. "What scene?" I asked. If we could get that far, maybe I could say "no" more confidently. "I'm not sure - maybe something from Academy I because it's pretty early in the oeuvre and it's very two-character based. Or something from Academy T because diapers are more of a 'this is a part of life' thing in that one, so it's more slice-of-life than origin-story." Truthfully, Blossom hadn't figured she would have to come up with a specific example, but she definitely had her favorite scenes. "I don't see how we can do any of these," I said quietly, sinking a little into the sofa. Even if we found a scene - like one between Ai and Nana or Talita and Claire - how could we reenact it? We didn't have any baby stuff! And even if we did, it didn't sound very fun; it sounded terrifying. "Okay, let's think about this another way," Blossom tried. "You told me that you're worried about retreading territory, about writing the same scene over and over, and that's a part of why you're stuck where you are in Academy A. So let's pick something really basic, something that's a given from baby stories, and roll with that. I know we don't have like... diapers, or clothes, or anything like that here, but we can still think about it." Blossom did realize she had no idea how to put a diaper on an adult, but that was a minor technicality. "So like... okay, putting someone in a diaper for the first time. That's pretty iconic, right? It happens in I, and in B, and in K... and I don't think T because Tali was full bimbaby when we meet her, but like, it's a common trope, right? We could do the uhh... oh," she snapped her fingers, "the scene in K where Kione eats the berries and goes and sees the Matron? I can be the Matron? Or you can? And this could be really good for you because you can see how fun roleplaying can be with kink stuff. And it's good for me because I haven't done much with ageplay." Okay... okay. Yeah, okay. The way she worded it, it almost made sense. Obviously it wouldn't actually work, because we didn't have magic berries that made you wet yourself and we didn't have diapers to change into, but the concrete example was actually really helpful. I nodded along with her explanation. "So... we act out the time Kione gets brought into the Chapel, and the Matron changes her into a diaper? But we don't have diapers, so it's like... pretend?" "That's right, it can be all entirely roleplay. And trust me when I tell you that you're going to feel weird and foolish and stuff at first because that's how it feels at first, but you just have to get over yourself and go with the flow and you will have a lot of fun. The amount of times I've had to roleplay some guy's slutty step-daughter, or some girl's sexy sapphic roommate, or whatever, you get used to it pretty quickly." "I think I need to re-read this scene..." I sighed, trying to map out the movements in my brain. Blossom loaded up the PDF of the story in response to Mia, and she scrolled to the appropriate scene and handed her phone to the author. Chapter Seven. She walks in the Chapel, the Matron comments on her not feeling well. Kione's a total idiot, because she had all those berries. She stumbles over her words. She says she's going to go pee behind one of the hills at the Kindergarten. The Matron ignores her, saying she asked for a diaper. Kione doesn't understand. The Matron puts her pacifier between her lips and lays her down. The Matron distracts her. Kione wets herself. "Woah, I'm not actually wetting myself!" I said without thinking. There was nothing saying I would be Kione, but I didn't want Blossom wetting herself either! I wouldn't know what to do about that. "Well, obviously - we don't have any diapers. But we can pretend. It's just a proof of concept, Mia. And if we don't like it, we never need to try it again. But I think this could really help with your creative process!" Being a switch, Blossom would have been happy in either role, but it was certainly easy to say that when all the stakes are imaginary, wasn't it? The Matron role in this case was definitely the less embarrassing one to play, after all. "I dunno about this..." The rest of the scene was just a lot of teasing. Kione's all hopped up on berries so she really doesn't even react; she just goes along with it. Of all the scenes Blossom could have chosen, it was rather tame... "Baby steps, Mia Moore. What's the worst that can happen? It doesn't work out? That's fine. But if it does, if we both have fun, that opens a lot of doors for our future hangouts." Never before had Blossom Brixley had to try so hard to get someone to want to fool around with a kink with her before, that was for sure! Even if this scene was pretty benign. "Just try and get in the headspace of Kione. Let yourself be in the role." Be Kione. Okay. I'd done that a thousand times. I gave Blossom her phone back and tried to remember writing Academy K over the summer. A lot of time spent in my room. Research on hallucinations; I really wanted to represent a serious mental health condition properly. Anthropological social worker. Empathetic. Afraid, but too afraid to show it. Deep breath. Okay... "So... how do we...?" Obviously Blossom would be leading this little play. Oh this was going to be fun! Blossom had touched herself to this scene more than once and the dialog was pretty firm in her head, even if she wasn't a thousand percent accurate. She stood up from the sofa, and helped Mia up. "You go into the bedroom, and then come out of the door into this room, and then you'll be Kione huffed up on pink berries, okay? I'll be the Matron." The opening line was… "Looks like somebody isn't feeling well," Blossom remembered, followed by "I bet the berries helped, huh? Are you feeling better?" Yeah, she could nail this. And she was already so much taller than Mia, so it fit the scene well. "Go on, don't be shy, we'll start as soon as you come through the door." I went into the bedroom - Blossom's bedroom on the first floor, not the guest room on the second. The bed was made. I wonder if she slept on the covers or if she made the bed herself. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Kione... but on that pink stuff. Pink stuff hit everyone the same, mostly. Hard to think. Easy to trick. I nodded my head and opened my eyes. Okay, here goes nothing...