Sophie ♥

Falling Action When Ambrose opened his eyes, the room was still dark. He sat up in the crib and his sleepy mind tried to process a means of escape. A way out. A way back to his old life. But then he noticed that the crib had no bars on it. Then he noticed his clothes. Not his clothes, but not a frilly pink dress. Then he tried to close his legs. No diaper. And the room didn't smell terrible. Ambrose fumbled around in the dark until he found a light switch. The room wasn't a nursery. It was a bedroom. Not his bedroom, but... Z's bedroom? And his clothes... were Z's clothes. Ambrose stepped out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit living room. Z was sitting on his couch, playing that game. The music one, with the weird vibrator. Was it all a dream...? "You're finally awake," Z said, motioning Ambrose over to him. Ambrose nodded and went to sit on the couch. "What's... going on..." Ambrose asked. "How did I get here?" "You came over, upset about something," Z shrugged. "Then you drank two beers, pissed yourself, and threw a tantrum about it." Ambrose's blood ran cold. He what? No. It was a dream! He couldn't have! "So after I put you in time out - sorry about that - I sent you to shower and sleep it off." Sleep it off? Ambrose was piecing the timeline together from his dream. How much happened? How much didn't? Everything played out so unusually, like... like one of those stories. He let out a deep sigh. "Sorry," Ambrose finally said. "You shouldn't have had to do that." "What else are friends for?" Z shrugged. "Probably not this," Ambrose mumbled. "So, uh... you going to tell me what that was all about?" Z asked. "I will... but... I have to go right now. Do you know what time it is?” "Nine something?" Ambrose nodded. It was late, but not that late. He didn't know how he was going explain any of this to his best friend, but he was suddenly very glad to have the opportunity to do so. He was so happy to have his best friend listening to him again. Twenty minutes later, Ambrose knocked on Honey's apartment door. She answered with curiosity, but the expression on her face quickly faded to annoyance. "Ambrose," she said flatly. "Hey, um..." Ambrose looked around the empty hallway and then down at his ex. Down, because she was shorter than him again. ”I just want to say—“ "I don't want to hear it," Honey said sharply. Ambrose paused mid-sentence. He hesitated, then nodded his head. She didn't want to hear it. Then how was he supposed to explain? Maybe he couldn't... "Right... I'm sorry. Nevermind." Part of wanting someone else to listen to him meant that he needed to respect when someone else wanted him to listen first. So Ambrose turned and left. Resolution Ambrose was waiting by the elevator when Honey caught up to him. "Fine," she said, a little out of breath. "What did you want to say?" Ambrose stared at her. She didn't have to listen to him. She was choosing to. Ambrose felt tears in his eyes, but he didn't want to cry. Not because of some manly shit, but because he didn't want Honey to feel guilty. So he held it together. "I'm sorry I never listened to you,” he said. “I kept thinking I could fix everything if you let me, if I could be in control of things. That's the paradigm I've always wanted in a relationship. And I thought part of that paradigm was, like... overruling your partner. That's how it is in stories." "Stories?" Honey asked. "Uhh..." Ambrose didn't want to be fully honest. Not only because he was embarrassed, but because it wasn't a good excuse. He didn't want to drop all his kink shit on Honey, not now. "What I'm trying to say is: I was wrong. Part of a relationship is listening to your partner, even if you think they're wrong, even if you think you can do better. It doesn't matter what kind of relationship it is, nobody should be ignored." "Ambrose..." Honey sighed. "I'm sorry," Ambrose repeated. "I thought that was the kind of guy I wanted to be, but it's not. I want to do what you think is best for you, not what I think. I want to listen to you, all the time, no matter what." "Ambrose..." Honey repeated, and Ambrose suddenly felt very embarrassed. "Or, uh... not just you," Ambrose corrected. "My, uh... next girlfriend. Every girl. Everyone." Honey nodded. She realized in that moment that this wasn't about trying to win her back. This was something else. "I'd like to be friends, if that's okay," Ambrose said, more like a question than a statement. It was the first time Honey had heard him talk like that, or at least the first time she could remember. "Yeah... friends," Honey agreed. The elevator doors opened. Ambrose looked at them, then at Honey, and smiled awkwardly. "That's my ride." Ambrose stepped into the elevator and waved goodbye. "See you," he said. Honey waved back. "See you." [The End]

Climax Ambrosia's eyes filled with tears as she filled her diaper. The seat of her diaper was resting squarely on Daddy's thigh, and she had to lean forward to make room. Meek sobs mixed with her grunts, and she could feel the release her tummy so desperately wanted. The sensation was gross and sticky and mucky, [but so familiar, as if she'd been filling her diapers her entire life.] Suddenly, Daddy bounced his knee and she sat squarely in her mess, squishing it into her skin. It squelched out over her bottom, filling the space around the leg gatherings. [Her bottom was already mucky and the smell began to fill the room, but Ambrosia wasn't done. The ache in her tummy forced her to learn forward again, to push more, to expand out the back of her diaper.] And once more, Daddy bounced her on his knee. The mess in her diaper had doubled, and it crept down between her thighs and up the front of her diaper. Tears spilled down her cheeks. [But Ambrosia wasn't done. Her tummy churned and she felt her body lean forward on instinct. Another grunt, another push, and Ambrose tried to fill what little space was left in the seat of her diaper. She sucked her pacifier for comfort.] Until Daddy's knee bounced her again. Again and again, until her stinky diaper was so full that the white plastic had become a dull brown. [But Ambrosia's tummy was relentless. She curled into her Daddy and leaned onto her side, clinging to his shirt. Wave after wave of desperation crashed into her, and she pushed as hard as she could. Grunting, the seat of her diaper grew and grew.] Daddy held her tight to his chest. He bounced his knee, so the sticky mess clung to her bare skin, then tore away from gravity alone. [On her side, between knee bounces, Ambrosia filled her diaper in bursts. One mess after another, interrupted by the pressure of Daddy's knee and the load in her diaper finding new places to fill.] When it was over, Ambrosia was quivering. She sucked her pacifier for dear life, the only silver lining in her otherwise humiliating performance. It seemed to take hours, but her Mommy and Daddy never even looked at her. They never said a word to her. Until they spoke to her at the same time. It was hard for Ambrosia - messy, stinky, and utterly de-adult-ified as she was - to make out which specific words had been said. She thought Mommy had said: [“Smells like somebody is a good girl. Don’t cry sweetheart. Does our widdle Pwincess need some help getting comfy in her new family position?”] And she thought Daddy had said: ["All done sweetie, or maybe you want some more time bouncing on Daddy's knee before you get changed."] But what she heard, for sure, between those words, were the true meaning of the two of them: ["Can you still say you didn't want this?"] And she felt so utterly, completely, irreparably small... she couldn't even be sure of the answer. Ambrosia was at a loss for words, figuratively and literally. Even if she could talk around the bulb of her pacifier, she didn't want to. She wanted to keep sucking on it for comfort. And even if she wanted to say something, she had nothing to say. No more defenses. No more arguments. No more adulthood left inside her. She hated it. She truly hated everything that was happening to her! But the human mind couldn't cope with that kind of dissonance. Either she had to find a way out of her torture, or she had to believe she liked it. And there was no way out. No escape. No end-of-episode rescue. There were five lights. Ambrosia was just a little girl now. There was too much that had changed, too many thresholds that had been crossed, too much reality that had inexplicably shifted. Ambrosia wasn't sure what was real and what was delusion, and what was truth and what was fiction. Her thoughts were flooded and gummed up, and her diaper was full, and she was with her Mommy and Daddy and that all seemed true, but everything else was so hard to focus on, so hard to absorb. Or so she thought, until she felt something press against her padding. "I think our good little girl deserves a reward," Mommy teased, holding the vibrating wand between Ambrosia's legs. Instinctively, she tried to shut her thighs, but the diaper was so full and thick that it was hopeless. Then the wand turned on and the vibrations reverberated through her diaper, into her body. Her confusion was quickly replaced with arousal. She wanted to shake her head, and if ever recounting this experience she would be sure to add that detail. But to be honest... with her mind so empty and her body so exhausted, her head certainly didn't shake. Her voice, her words stolen as they were, didn't mumbled in protest. Oh no no. Instead, she moaned behind her pacifier. She wasn't sure anything had even felt so good. Her Daddy held her in his arms as Mommy slid the vibrating wand along the plastic of Ambrosia's diaper. Each time Mommy pushed the wand a little too much, it squelched against Ambrosia's messy diaper and reminded her exactly what she was wearing. What she'd done. And how amazing it felt. Many times, Ambrosia tried to close her legs, and every time it failed. Though her mind wasn't ready to give up, her body was. Her knees bowed outward, until her thighs were wide apart. Mommy's toy found new places on the padding and the stink of her diaper filled Ambrosia's nostrils in waves. All the while, Daddy played with her hair and bounced her messy butt on his knee. Ambrosia forgot how to talk, and she wondered if she even could ever remember how. Whe wondered what it felt like to not have her binkie. Did it matter? Should she talk? A baby just babbles. But Mommy and Daddy sure did talk. [“There’s our cute little stinker in all her glory! Don’t worry, your thick diapers can hold it,”] quipped Mommy, and the teasing encouragement and reminder of her status only served to fuel her arousal. Ambrosia was so turned on, so much more turned on than she’d ever been before, and she reveled in the euphoria. Her spine arched and Daddy held her firmly. ["Don't worry, babygirl. This is just another kind of accident,"] Daddy began, smiling happily and proudly, [You go ahead and make cummies in your full full full diaper for Mommy and Daddy. Make us proud, and prove who you are now.”] Ambrosia didn't dare disappoint her Mommy and Daddy. Her body obeyed their every word, skipping through her mind like rocks on a frozen lake. Ambrosia's thoughts were frozen in ice. But her body was fire. Ambrosia quivered and moaned into her pacifier, filling her diaper in a whole new way. Probably her favorite way so far. When she was done, Ambrosia's mind and body were entirely worn out. She barely moved when Daddy lifted her into his arms and sat her messy butt on his hip. He walked her through the house, into the [nursery, where she was set in a very large crib.] "Chhhmmmmph..." Ambrosia tried to beg through her pacifier. She needed a change. She was so stinky, and her diaper was so full. But Daddy and Mommy kissed her once on the forehead and left her alone in the dark. Ambrosia looked up at the mobile, at the little plastic toys dangling from it. One had a big silver sticker on the bottom, and she could see her reflection in it. The reflection of a truly helpless baby girl. In that moment, Ambrosia didn't want a diaper change or her life back. She just wished her Mommy and Daddy would listen to her.

Rising Action “You know,” Z smirked, “if you think this is a dream, then there’s no use making such a fuss, is there? Heck, you could do all the things you’ve always wanted to do… because it’s a dream, right? Just remember not to get arrested or hurt or dead, because if those things happen in a dream they happen in real life.” "I don't want any of this," Ambrose panicked. "I want everything to go back to normal!” “If you’re [going to sulk like a baby, maybe the pull-up isn’t enough for you, princess. Maybe you should be in a diaper. I’m sure you have one in your diaper bag].” Z's words were like a slap across the face. Ambrose stood there, dumbfounded, trying to process everything his friend was saying. A diaper? A diaper bag? The first protest that found its way out of Ambrose's mouth was: "I don't have a diaper bag!" "Oh?" [Z went over to the front door and pulled a bag off the hook. It was light pink and green with teddy bears on it, and it was impossible to mistake as anything but a diaper bag]. "That's not mine!" Ambrose argued. "I'm not sure what game you're playing today," Z said dismissively, "but you know the rules." Rules? Did Ambrose know any rules? Of course not. [But as he thought about it, a few popped into his head. Rules for when Z was babysitting:] [If Baby has an accident, Baby will be in diapers for the next 24 hours. No exceptions and no bathrooms]. [It's up to the Sitter if Baby has to wear diapers or not, no exceptions]. [If Baby is wearing a diaper, then they need to be wearing something to make checking easier]. [If the Sitter puts a paci in Baby’s mouth, it stays in until Sitter takes it out]. [If Baby is too little for underwear, Baby is too little for regular cups. Baby will be given a bottle or a sippy depending on Baby’s behavior]. [Baby does not leave Sitter’s home until picked up by a responsible adult]. How could Ambrose not blush when he recalled those rules? He was sure there were more too, but he dared not dig further. What was happening? “…why do I know all these rules? What is going on, Z?” Z shrugged. “You’re the Baby, I’m just the Sitter.” Z started to unpack the diaper bag. A changing mat. A bottle of baby powder. And a diaper. A pink diaper with bunny rabbits on it. Ambrose began to panic. "I... I'll wear the pull-up,” he said quickly, trying to bargain. “Pull-up?" Z asked. "You [haven’t been in pullups for months].” "No, but you... um..." Ambrose turned in place, looking for the dress and the pull-up that had been placed outside the bathroom door. [But they were gone.] “You’re basically diaper dependent at all this point, Ambrosia.” Ambrose missed the used of his full name at first, because his head was spinning. What did Z mean by diaper dependent? He couldn’t mean that, right? As Z unfolded the pink diaper, Ambrose was trying to process everything that was happening. The bedwetting that morning felt like it had happened so long ago, and everything since was just a cascade of insanity. Finally, Ambrose shook his head and tried to reason with Z. "Something is wrong. I'm not.... you're not my babysitter. And I'm not like this. I'm not... it's just like a story. One of those ageplay stories. Please, you have to realize how crazy all this is!" Z sighed and looked up at Ambrose. But his face was rather earnest. Even if it was a dumb game, Z decided to play along. "What stories are you talking about?" Z asked. Ambrose hesitated. How was he supposed to explain any of this to his best friend? “Honey used to need taking care of,” Ambrose lied, trying to spare himself some embarrassment. “She never seemed to be able to do anything on her own. I realized she needed someone to take care of her. I started doing some reading to see if I could find a way to help her, and I came across some weird stories online. Stories about people being taken care of. Stories about people being regressed.” Although, for the sake of not giving Z any ideas, Ambrose probably wouldn’t add [“stories about asshole guys being turned into well-behaved little girls”, Ambrose said out loud]. Ambrose quickly covered his mouth. He didn’t mean to say that at all! With a welling panic and blushing cheeks, he took a stand. “I’m going home.” "Without any clothes?" Z smirked. "I'll just wear my old clothes," Ambrose sulked. He didn't want to walk home in wet clothes, but he really didn't want to waddle home in a diaper. "I'm not letting you wander around outside in wet tights," Z said firmly. "This game has gone on long enough. Come over here, right now." "No," Ambrose huffed. "I'm not a baby, and I'm not dressing like one." “No, you’re not a baby. You’re a Baby Girl, and I’m your Sitter and we agreed on the rules. We agreed that no matter how much tantruming you do, we still follow the rules. So it sounds to me, like you’re begging for a spanking, little girl.” Ambrose wanted to be angry at Z. He wanted to fight with him about this. He wanted to make Z admit this was all a stupid game. [But Z's words seemed to have a different effect on Ambrose. Something about Z, how he spoke, how his tone felt… it was like calamine on a rash, chamomile on a cold day. Ambrose wanted to stop fighting all this horrible chaos, and listening was such an easy way to do it. Maybe even… enjoyable?] “Please, I don’t want a spanking…” Ambrose said, his tone dropping to quiet and meek and submissive. He was just so exhausted after all this. "Then lie down so I can get you dressed,” Z said. “Then you can go back to playing your big girl game." Girl. Ambrose was a little irritated at that one. He was a little irritated at everything! But conversations with Z felt so... insurmountable. Like Ambrose would never get any traction. Like it was pointless. Like they weren't even speaking the same language. "Can... I just... please wear underwear?" Ambrose asked. Politely, this time. He didn't want to fight, but a diaper? Seriously? He wasn't into that... he was the one in charge. He was the Daddy. “Oh, Ambrosia,” Z grinned with a roll of the eyes, “you’re gonna wear underwear. Diapers are your underwear, and you know you need them now. It’s taken a long time to get you there, but we did it.” [The worst part of all of this, the absolute worst part… was that Ambrose had an erection And his cock looked a lot smaller than it used to]. "Please..." Ambrose tried again, but Z patted the open diaper and urged him forward. Was he really about to let his best friend diaper him? Ambrose shook his head in defiance. So Z [tugged him by the wrist and pulled the nearly naked man over his lap. Ambrose started to kick and fuzz, but Z held him down firmly and unwrapped the towel, exposing his beard butt]. "Wait! Wait!" Ambrose begged. But Z didn't wait. With a full swing, he spanked Ambrose's bare bottom. The sharpness of Z's hand felt like daggers. Ambrose tried to kick and beg, but Z ignored him. [Then Ambrose felt a warm splash on his thighs. A stream splashed against the front of his towel, as if he had no control of his bladder left. For the second time in as many hours, he was having an accident, and this time on his best friend's lap.] “Ambrosia Marie! Bad girl! Bad bad girl!” Z didn’t get up to clean up, and instead delivered twelve sharp slaps on Ambrose’s ass, and that was just the beginning. In as little as five spankings, Ambrose was crying. He couldn't help it. And each spank after that was just another reminder that this was not at all a dream. If it were, he would have woken up, because the bare-bottom spankings really hurt! After it was over, Z wasted no time rolling him naked onto the floor and positioning him on the changing pad. The diaper was already unfolded beneath his butt, and Ambrose felt fresh tears spill down his cheeks. "Please... dun do this..." Ambrose meekly begged, but he and his best friend both knew that Ambrose would not put up more of a fight. “Ambrosia, we both know you want this.” Z powdered his baby girl and paused. The erection was still an issue, and even more so after the spanking. A good few strokes would probably take care of it, but that wasn’t the way baby girls got off. “Wait here, Baby Girl, don’t move,” Z said. “I’m going to get your wand from my bedroom.” Wand? Ambrose thought. Like a wand from a diaper smut story? No, no, no... he couldn't possibly... Ambrose knew that he had to leave. Reasoning with Z wasn't an option, and he couldn't just sit and let this happen to him. So he sat up and blinked through his tears, looking down at the untaped diaper. But more importantly: at his erection. At his cock, which was half the size it used to be. Ambrose fumbled to his feet, but he felt weak and lightheaded. The spanking had sapped every ounce of his energy. The wet towel was gone, so he stumbled naked to the front door. His threshold for embarrassment was much higher than it was only hours before, and someone seeing him naked was the least of his troubles. [But as he got to the door, it opened inwards and Honey stood there with a smile.] Ambrose stood dumbfounded, staring up at his ex-girlfriend. He went to say something, but no words came out. “Save it, Baby Girl,” Honey smiled. “I’m just here to see Z. But it looks like you’re mid-diaper-change, huh?” “She sure is,” Z confirmed, emerging from the bedroom with the signature white and blue implement of delight. “I think she was trying to escape,” Honey smirked. “Oh she wouldn’t do that, would she now?” Z teased. “She wouldn’t earn a hundred more spankings.” Z had an amazing “talk condescending to a child” voice. Ambrose stood between his best friend and his recent ex-girlfriend, completely naked, as they talked about him like he wasn't even there. To add insult to injury, Ambrose's height difference was validated: he was actually slightly shorter than Honey now! "There's a misunderstanding," Ambrose tried to argue, covering himself up with his hands. He didn't want Honey to see what had happened to his manhood. “Absolutely there is,” Honey smiled sweetly. “Z should be getting the buzzy toy for your butt if he wants that lil’ baby toy between your legs to settle down.” “You think so?” Z asked. “She hasn’t had a good M-E-S-S yet today so I didn’t want to get in the way of that.” [Ambrosia tried to make sense of the letters Z had spelled out, but they sounded like gibberish to her.] Honey nodded, and addressed Ambrosia directly now, with clear instruction: [“Ambrosia, you have thirty seconds to lie down on that diaper or else you’re getting locked in the crib with your special tapes playing all night. You choose.”] Ambrose knew what Honey meant, and he didn't want anything to do with any kind of special tapes. Ambrose reminded himself that hypnosis didn't work like that, and then he reminded himself that he was almost a foot shorter and wetting himself uncontrollably. Logic wasn't something he could rely on. Z led Ambrose by the hand back to the pink bunny diaper and laid him back down. Running into Honey had been mortifying, even beyond his wildest fantasies. His dick had become soft and limp, but he never stopped covering it up. "This is a prank, right?" Ambrose asked nervously. Honey had followed them into the room and stood towering above him on the floor. [“Oh my little diaper dork, it’s not a prank,” Honey cooed. “And you’re not being bullied. You wanted this. You read so many stories about this stuff and you wanted it so badly and now you have it. You’re the pretty little diaper princess you’ve always wanted to be.”] While Honey teased Ambrose, Z pulled up the diaper up between his thighs. "I never wanted this," Ambrose argued, [but the thickness between his legs forced them apart and an overwhelming feeling filled him up. Like butterflies.] Things Ambrose knew shouldn't be inside him, but they were. He had to center himself to continue the argument, but his attention was split. "I wanted you in diapers," Ambrose finally admitted to Honey. "I wanted to take care of you.” “And do you really think that you have the ability to do that?” Honey asked sweetly. “You need your diapers. You need your dresses and your dollies and your binkie, and you certainly don’t have ANY room in that pretty lil empty head of yours for taking care of other people, do you?” Z pulled one wing tight, and taped the lower tape, and then repeated the process on the other side. Ambrose shook his head. The wings of the diaper hugged his hips tenderly, comfortably. He knew he wasn't into this. He knew he didn't want to wear diapers. His feelings matched the kind of stuff he read online, not the kind of things he actually felt. "Is this because we broke up?" Ambrose asked sourly. "Are you getting revenge on me or something? It's not funny!" “I broke up with you, [Amber]; what would I want revenge for?” “And now that you’re our Baby Girl,” Z stood up, having finished taping the two top tapes, and stood beside Honey, “we can [teach you how to be a good girl. And a good girl is a happy girl.]" "I'm not happy!" Ambrose shouted up at her. "I'm confused and angry and scared! And I hate this, and I want you to stop it!" Z sharply slapped Ambrose's thigh and Ambrose whimpered. "Watch your tone," Z said. "If you're going to act like a little brat, I'll treat you like one." "We're trying to help you," Honey cooed. "I don't need your help," Ambrose muttered holding back tears. "Well, you sure can't seem to manage it on your own, can you?" Honey asked. "If you'd just listen, you wouldn't have to worry about any of this. We would take care of it." "You aren't hearing me," Ambrose raised his voice. "You're just making decisions that—“ Just then, Z popped a silicone bulb between Ambrose's lips, cutting him off mid-sentence. He held the pacifier in place until Ambrose began to suck on it, and as he sucked [his mind started going blank. He wasn’t sure if it was magic, hypnosis, stress, or something else, but Ambrose found himself unable to think at all as he repeatedly suckled the pacifier.] So enthralled was Ambrosia with the binkie, that he didn’t even notice when Honey slipped away into the bedroom. And he didn’t put up a protest when Z picked him up and sat him down atop his lap. Ambrose bounced on [her Daddy's] knee and sucked his pacifier. The haze in his head was only matched in intensity by the burning blush on his cheeks. He want— [She] wanted to— He wanted to get off his— [She wanted to get off.] Ambrosia shook [her] head in disgust. This whole thing was disgusting! [Then why did it feel so good? Had she always wanted this?] Ambrosia knew she didn't! All these feelings started today. [Did they?] Of course they did! [But things were changing so fast for Ambrosia. Could she be sure of anything?] Of course she could! [Did she even remember when she started using she/her pronouns?] Ambrosia paused. Her fuzzy thoughts were even fuzzier than before. Had she always thought of herself as a girl? Was she a girl? The panic made way for one thought: why is this happening to me? [Just relax, Ambrosia. Let me tell the story.] "How's your tummy?" Daddy asked, snapping Ambrosia out of her... her what? What was she even thinking about? [She didn't remember.] "Whmmph?" Ambrosia asked, forgetting the pacifier between her lips. A fresh embarrassment came over her. "It's already dinner time and you haven't had a single messy diaper," Daddy said with a tickle on Ambrosia's cheek. Ambrosia's eyes went wide. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she remembered stories about this. About what Daddy was talking about. [And just as she did, she felt an ache in her stomach.] "No!" Ambrosia said loudly and reached to take out her pacifier. But as she did, [Mommy secured a panel gag with a slit cut out to accommodate her pacifier around her head.] "I think our babygirl needs some extra help behaving today,” she said. Ambrosia felt her eyes go wide as her legs were spread by the thickness of her diaper, and she shook her head vehemently as she could manage. What were Mommy and Daddy talking about?! ["Sometimes Mommy and Daddy have to do things that baby girls don't understand, but they're important. Especially if our little princess hasn't made poopies all day."] "Mmmmph!!" Ambrosia argued, so unintelligibly that even she didn't know what she was trying to say. Then [Mommy] held up what she had fetched from the bedroom. A dress. [The dress was absolutely emasculating, a boy's worst nightmare. It was aggressively hot pink satin, with lighter pink for the color and ruffled trim. The sleeves ballooned out in great big puffy sleeves, and on the chest was written the words "Little Miss Princess" in cherry colored thread. And the hem... the hem was so short, that there was no chance of covering Ambrosia's diaper.] Ambrosia shook her head in disapproval and tried to fuss with the paci gag, but Mommy threaded her arms through the sleeves and pulled the dress down over his head. Then she pulled two satin mittens in matching pink to cover his hands, and tightened them with the pull of a ribbon. What Ambrosia wanted to say was that this was a huge misunderstanding and that it should have been Honey who was being tressed up and made to poop her diapers, but every thought that Ambrosia had seemed to be tainted, corrupted, altered… she felt like she was rapidly losing her entire sense of self. [Ambrosia's stomach churned again.] "Oooh, listen to that gurgling tummy!" Daddy teased. ”Mmmrph!!" "We're going to have one stinky baby girl soon, aren't we Daddy?" Mommy teased back. “We certainly are." Mommy sat down next to Daddy on the sofa and turned on the TV, like Ambrosia wasn't even there at all. Ambrosia thought she could use the opportunity to slip off Daddy's lap and make her escape, but he held her firmly on his thigh. Then Ambrose noticed the sounds coming from the TV: [she couldn't understand any of them!] It was like they were speaking another language. The rational part of Ambrosia's mind [or what was left of it] figured Mommy just put on a foreign program, but she knew that wasn't the case. It made her squirm even harder, until a sharp slap came down on her bare thigh and she froze perfectly still in panic. "Be good," Daddy said firmly, and Ambrosia nodded. The memory of her spanking was still fresh in her mind. [Ambrosia's stomach churned again and she whimpered behind her paci.] Ambrosia kept waiting for her Mommy and Daddy to tire of the TV, but they didn't. They sat and talked and laughed and time went by slower than Ambrose could ever remember. The ache to use the bathroom was growing, but she could [n't] hold it. Every time that Ambrosia tried to move her hands to her binkie, Daddy would intercept her. Every time she tried to squirm away, Daddy would stop her. It was like he was an adult and she was a baby and she was entirely and utterly powerless to stop him... or rather, to stop him from stopping her. And the worst part about all of this was how [easy it felt to give in, just a little bit at a time. It was addictive. Images of bouncing on Daddy's lap. Kisses from Mommy all over her face. Filling her diaper, getting changed, and never worrying about anything again...] Ambrosia winced as her tummy cramped up. Her head felt fuzzy and her body was a little numb. Like she didn't have control. Or was she just rationalizing it? Creating a world where this wasn't her fault? Was it her fault? It all happened to her... she didn't ask for it. Could she be blamed if... Ambrosia whined behind her pacifier and clung to Daddy's shirt. Her tummy ache was worse than it had ever been, and all her squirming didn't get her any closer to the bathroom. [Why did that matter? She was wearing her bathroom.] Daddy began to rock Ambrosia gently, back and forth, and rubbed her back to boot. How was a Baby Girl to resist such comfort? How was she to deny her [natural impulses? Why deny it at all?] She wanted nothing more than [to be a good girl.] So Ambrosia gave in to what her Daddy and Mommy would praise her for. And she began to push.

Conflict Ambrose woke up the next morning feeling more exhausted than usual. His dreams were a blur, and he struggled to open his eyes. But a thought finally woke him from the stupor: did Honey message me? He grappled for his phone on the bed beside him and checked his notifications. Nothing from Honey. With a sigh, he rolled over in bed and [noticed a cold, wet sensation under him on the bed]. Ambrose was never the most active morning person, and so it took his brain a little while to boot up and to realize what was happening. Or rather, to realize what had happened. Why were his sheets wet? Was his comforter wet? Had the heat pipes burst? A leaking ceiling? He rubbed his eyes and sighed, looking for where it had to have soaked through from above while also looking upward for where the ceiling must have been leaking. But it wasn't that complicated. There was no elaborate Rube Goldberg machine that wet Ambrose's bed. He did it himself. "Fuck..." Ambrose climbed out of bed and tried to figure out what came next. In one of his stories, the bedwetter would feel a sense of helplessness. But Ambrose didn't feel helpless; he felt disoriented. He felt confused. And he felt ashamed. "It's a fluke," he said to himself, stripping off his own pants and underwear before tackling the sheets. "I'm stressed from all this stuff with Honey." That's what someone would say in a story. Stress. It was the go-to excuse for bedwetting. But as Ambrose piled all his wet laundry together, he didn't feel like stress was a very good excuse at all. A breakup paled in comparison to the year when his mom had cancer, and he never wet the bed once during all that. "Some subconscious shit?" Ambrose guessed, filling the washing machine with pee-soaked clothes and detergent. "I fell asleep after reading that story..." Clearly, the story was to blame. It's like how when you play music to babies in the womb, they develop those skills later in life. Or something like that; Ambrose wasn't an expert. Still, it was equal parts frustrating and ironic: if Honey had been more willing to wet the bed, they'd probably still be together. And waking up in sheets soaked by his girlfriend? He wouldn't even care about having to clean that up. Unfortunately, Ambrose had to go to class. It was the last week before finals, and he was only taking two classes in the summer. It was the home stretch. He packed his book bag and hurried to the bus stop at the end of his block. Waiting at the bus stop was someone Ambrose had never met before. A woman, probably his age. Maybe a little older. Ambrose saw a lot of random people at bus stops, and he never took much notice. This time, however, she kept glancing over at him. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, he turned and said: "Uh, hi?" She looked a little taken aback, like she didn't expect him to acknowledge her. But she put on a friendly smile. “Hi,” she said. “I like your shirt." The woman smiled with what she intended to be support and encouragement, but it was hard to ignore the small undercurrent of a smirk. Like she knew the punchline to a joke that Ambrose was in the midst of. “My… shirt?” Ambrose looked down and [realized he was wearing a pink shirt. Soft pink, like the color of easter bunnies, and to make it even worse, there was a pastel rainbow across the chest with colorful text that said 'be your own treasure’]. "Fucking hell... yeah it's... my girlfriend’s. I was in a hurry." But he was so sure he didn't put that on. "Well, I think it looks great on you," the woman said warmly. "Don't let social pressure and stuff get in the way of being yourself." "Right..." Ambrose didn't really want to argue with a stranger about his clothes, and he appreciated her support. Even if this was just an accident, that kind of comment would probably make someone else's day. Ambrose and the stranger boarded the bus together, but they sat far apart. Ambrose sat in the back and pulled his jacket closed, zipping it up from the bottom. He was suddenly very thankful that he brought his spring coat. Once he'd settled in, Ambrose checked his phone to see if Honey had finally come to her senses and decided to message him back. No such luck though, not even so much as a "Honeypop7 sent a Friend Request”. Ordinarily, Ambrose would have gotten angry at how ungrateful Honey was acting, but instead he just felt… melancholic. It was kind of surreal. First the wet bed, then the clothing mix-up, and now this feeling of morose? What a mess of a day, and it hadn't even started yet! Maybe he'd skip classes today. Maybe he'd go to Honey's place and talk some sense into her. [No, he’d go see what Z was up to. Maybe spending some more time with his friend would help him get his head on straight after this bizarre morning]. Ambrose got off the bus two stops early and sent a text to his friend. A reply came back in seconds; Z was a quick replier. "Sure come on by" Ambrose let himself into Z's house without knocking. Z's door was almost always unlocked. Ambrose kicked off his shoes and found his friend in the living room, playing a video game. "Hey Z. What's this?" "It's a rhythm game from the PS2,” Z said. “It's pretty heckin' rad. It comes with a second player controller that's basically just a vibrator for your partner to play with while you play, and the music is wicked good." Ambrose had no idea what Z was talking about, but the game on the screen looked and sounded pretty wild, so he sat down next to Z on the sofa and watched. "So what's up?" Z asked, without looking away from the game. "Don't you have class?" "It's been a weird day," Ambrose sighed. "I'm all out of sorts..." "I mean, you just got broken up with. Of course you're out of sorts." "Right... yeah..." Ambrose was still thinking of Honey, but that wasn't as important as some of the other stuff that happened today. Of course, he'd never tell Ambrose any of that. "Still, don't fail your classes over a girl. Finals are next week." "Don't remind me," Ambrose groaned. "Anything I can do to help?" Z asked. “Maybe a beer?” Ambrose shrugged. “Sure.” Z stood up and went to the kitchen. He always had like six different kinds of craft beers in the fridge. When he came back, he passed Ambrose an IPA. “Here, it tastes like the floor.” Ambrose laughed and opened the bottle. After one beer, Ambrose began to wonder why he came to talk to Z at all. He couldn't mention any of the stuff that happened today, and talking about Honey felt like a recipe for disaster. Maybe he just needed the company, or he was looking for a distraction. But conversation only took the two of them so far. Ambrose got himself a second beer and sat back down. This time, he didn't start up a conversation. Z seemed focused on his game. Ambrose watched, but unfortunately it was a bit mindless. The figure moved slowly around the screen shooting at things and there were a lot of flashy lights. [But Ambrose's eyes seemed to follow the white cursor automatically as Z moved it around. After a while, he wasn't thinking about Honey. He wasn't thinking about wetting the bed that morning. He wasn't thinking about anything]. Time passed. "I like your shirt." Those words from Z barely registered with Ambrose. ”You should wear more stuff like that." Ambrose nodded absentmindedly, [assimilating Z’s instruction into his brain. Of course he should wear more stuff like this]. As Ambrose sat quietly watching the screen all of his attention and absolutely none of his attention, [he found his hands playing with the second player controller - a square piece of plastic that vibrated to the music of the game. He wiggled along with it.] Ambrose’s little dance was not at all inconspicuous, but Z was fixated on the game. It wasn't until the end of the level when Z finally realized. "Ambrose?" Z asked. He leaned over to look up at his best friend. His eyes were unfocused, and a bit of drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth. With a bit of concern, Z snapped his fingers in front of Ambrose's face. Ambrose blinked. Z came into focus. What was he just doing? What was he thinking about? He couldn't really remember… "Were you dancing with the Trance Vibrator?" Z asked, with narrowing eyes. "I guess the name was literal. Do you need another beer? You usually don't start to get buzzed until three or four beers in." But Ambrose felt a lot more than buzzed. He felt drunk. Drunk on only one and a half beers, like his head was full of stuffing. [Ambrose giggled dumbly.] "Okay, you're in worse shape than I thought," Z said, getting serious about this whole breakup thing. He went to get him another beer. Ambrose sat quietly for a moment, but the vibrating toy wasn't vibrating anymore. The TV wasn't moving that little cursor around. The heaviness (lightness?) in his head began to even out. Finally, he noticed the drool on his chin and wiped it with the back of his hand. He thought: what the hell is going on? This time, when Z sat back down, it wasn't just with one beer for Ambrose - it was with one for Z as well. Z’s was a different brand, one that didn’t taste like the floor. “You’re taking this breakup really hard,” Z said, sipping his own bottle. “You’re zoned out, and you aren’t acting like yourself." Ambrose didn't know what to say. Was all this really about Honey? It had to be; nothing else had happened! But why was he so cut up about some girl? Ambrose stood up and paced around the room with the beer in his hand, trying to rationalize everything to his best friend. But before he could start a monologue, he [suddenly felt warmth trickling down his leg]. He didn't understand it at first. The sensation of anything like that on his legs was reserved for showering. Or spilling something hot, which he had done maybe once or twice in his life. And certainly never peeing his pants! But that's what was happening. He was peeing his pants, and Ambrose couldn't seem to stop. Z stared at him blankly, and Ambrose ransacked his brain for some kind of excuse. Some kind of response. Something to spare him the embarrassment. Only one thing came to mind: [having a tantrum. His girlfriend broke up with him, he wet the bed, and his beer tasted like the floor. Now this? None of it was fair!] "It's not fair!" Ambrose yelled, balling his hands at his sides. He felt tears in his eyes. He never cried, not really. At sad movies. At weddings. But not about his own feelings. Not like this. "...uh... what's not fair?" Z asked, bewildered by the whole situation. "This! Is! Not! Fair!" Ambrose stomped his foot, which squished with the wetness that had ran down his legs and soaked his socks - it made him wince and then the tears started to break the levee of his eyes; flooding down his cheeks. "This is dumb! This is dumb and stupid and not FAIR!" Z didn't know what to do. His best friend had peed his pants in the living room, and now he was shouting and stomping his foot. Z had never seen that kind of behavior before from Ambrose. He had actually never seen that kind of behavior before at all, except maybe from little kids. Only one thing came to Z’s mind: [to put his friend in time out. It was the kind of thing he remembered his mom doing when his siblings would have tantrums like that]. Z took two steps forward, careful to avoid the puddle on this living room floor, and pulled Ambrose into the corner. He turned Ambrose by the shoulders and made him face the wall. "Until you calm down, stay here with your nose in the corner!" Z said sharply. "Wait, I..." Ambrose was suddenly very aware of the situation. He tried to turn to face his friend, to try to explain what just happened, but Z steered him right back into the corner. "Five minutes," Z said firmly, and left Ambrose alone. Ambrose stood there, facing the wall, and trying to muster the courage to turn around and argue with Z about his behavior. But Ambrose's behavior was so abhorrent... did he really have a leg to stand on? Ambrose looked down at his wet jeans and a bit of color filled his cheeks. This really is like one of those stories, the thought to himself. In the five minutes that transpired, Ambrose went through several stages in his head. At first he refused to believe that this had happened, and then shortly after that he remembered how mad he was that it had. Then he spent some time trying to think about how to convince Z that it was really just a miscommunication - maybe he was doing it for a play? That wouldn’t work though, and the thought filled Ambrose with a sort of unexpected sadness. In the end, he accepted what had happened: he lost his temper, and lost focus, and there was a lot going on in his life right now. It was just a lapse of judgement. That was all. Was five minutes up? He could hear Z cleaning the floor, but didn’t dare look over his shoulder for fear of being chastised. “Z…?” “81 more seconds.” Ambrose sulked. There was no way out but through. After 81 seconds, Z came over and tapped Ambrose on the shoulder. He turned around and looked at his friend with embarrassment. "You done throwing a tantrum?" Z asked. "Yeah... I'm really sorry..." He still didn't have an excuse for what happened. Ambrose was still in his wet pants, and he wanted nothing more than to change. “Well, shit happens,” Z sighed. “You’re drunk, and depressed, and worked up. It’s no big surprise.” Ambrose wasn’t sure that the term ‘it’s no big surprise’ was of any comfort to him when it came to what had just transpired, but he was thankful that his friend wasn’t more upset. “I can clean the floor and—“ “I took care of it. Just go take a shower, I’ll get you something of mine to wear.” Ambrose nodded and faked a smile. That was the best response he could have hoped for. In the shower, Ambrose started to wonder about his day. About the accident this morning. About the shirt he was wearing. About that weird fixation with the video game. Wetting himself? A temper tantrum? All of it was so out of character, and stress wasn't a good excuse. Something was wrong, and he couldn't figure out what. "Maybe Honey is getting revenge somehow?" he said to himself. "She could have drugged me... or that barista at the coffee shop yesterday. A lot of this sounds like a hormone imbalance. But can that stuff really happen in just a day?" No closer to the truth, Ambrose got out of the shower and dried himself off. He was about to leave the bathroom when he caught sight of himself in the foggy mirror. A weird thought nagged at him in the back of his mind, so he went over to the mirror and wiped it clean. He looked at himself in the glass, but something was wrong. [Ambrose seemed shorter somehow, looking up at the mirror from a little bit below what was normal. He was almost so far below the mirror that he didn’t notice that his body was suspiciously lacking any hair below his neck.] This was definitely a hormone imbalance, right? Obviously he couldn’t be shorter. Z’s mirror must have been in a different place before. But where had his body hair gone? What was going on? Radiation poisoning? Ambrose needed to figure this out. “Z? Do you have clothes for me?” Ambrose opened the bathroom door, but Z wasn't there. He took a step out of the bathroom and noticed a pile of folded clothes on the floor. He picked them up and closed the bathroom door again. Ten seconds later, Ambrose aggressively opened the bathroom door and stomped his way out into the living room. He threw the pile of clothes at Z, who was once again playing his video game again. "I am not wearing that!" he said loudly. Z stared dumbfounded at Ambrose. Finally he set down the controller and picked up the clothes that had been hurled at him. He held them up. It took Z a few moments to process what he was looking at, because it wasn’t the simple t-shirt and sweatpants that had been left out for Ambrose. “Uh… what is this?” [Z held up the first garment - which seemed to be some kind of pink jumper dress with a fuzzy rainbow embossed on the chest - and gave an awkward look. But that wasn’t all. In the messy pile of clothes that Ambrose had thrown at him, there was a pair of mittens and something that looked like pull-on disposable underwear]. “Is this like… a fetish thing?” Z asked. Ambrose's cheeks went crimson. All this was dangerously close to Ambrose's kink stuff, and he didn't like it at all. This had to be a prank. How much did Z know about him? Ambrose had to push back. "You... you set it outside the bathroom! It was in a stack, just sitting there!" “I don’t even own anything like this,” Z said flatly. “Search your feelings, you know it to be true.” And Ambrose did know it to be true. But he didn’t understand it. And the body hair being missing, and… and… “Are you taller?” Ambrose hadn’t noticed it before since Z was sitting down, but it definitely seemed like Z was taller. Everything seemed taller, just like the mirror in the bathroom. "Taller? No...?" Z tilted his head curiously. Then he looked down at the outfit in his hand. [His confusion began to shift to annoyance. When he looked back at Ambrose, he gave a stern look.] "Hurry up and get dressed," Z said flatly. "What?" Ambrose blinked in surprise. Z's sudden change in emotion wasn't lost on him. "You just said these aren't yours. They aren't mine either. Don't you care where they came from?" “They’re clearly for you,” Z asserted, although that answer didn’t take into account who they belonged to or who had put them there. “So hurry up and get dressed so I can get back to my game and you can get back to dancing with the music.” "Why... why would they be clearly for me!" Ambrose was getting upset again. Everything around him was acting crazy. Surely Z noticed it too. Right? He had to. "Well, you had an accident, didn't you?" Z asked. "No! I mean, yes, but—“ "So who else would the pull-ups be for?" Ambrose balled his hands at his sides. Z wasn't listening. He wasn't even thinking this through! None of it made any sense! “It was you! You did this! You… you put something in the beer, or-or…” “Are you having another tantrum already?” Z raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I [should warm that bottom until it matches the color of your cheeks]”. Ambrose froze in place. He had read enough ageplay smut to know what that meant. And it wasn't phrased the same way you'd talk to a kid; it was phrased like one of those stories. "I'm... dreaming..." Ambrose concluded. It was the only reasonable assumption. His best friend was suddenly taller than him? He was given a pull-up to wear after having an accident? And now he was threatened with a spanking? It was too tropey. It was too unrealistic. So it wasn't real. “You’re definitely not dreaming - if you’re dreaming about your bestie giving you a spanking and putting you in a pull-up and a pretty dress, I think you should probably see a therapist.” Z didn’t say this in a judgmental way, of course - there was care and affection there. But still. “Now go get dressed, no more fussing.” "I should definitely see a therapist," Ambrose sighed. But the realization that it was all a dream gave him a sense of relief. He just had to find a way to wake himself up. "Pinch me," Ambrose said. He put out his arm. That worked on TV, right? Z didn’t hesitate, and proceeded to pinch Ambrose. Ambrose stood there looking at his hairless arm, at the little red welt that was beginning to develop. It hurt… it really hurt…

Thanks! I've been working on a lot of other personal stuff and I haven't really found time to do a lot of ABDL writing. So yeah, DD has fallen to the wayside in a lot of regards. I'm still around on other platforms, especially Discord, but I am trying to get back into the forums a little bit. Anyway, happy to be back!

Not exactly a new story, but I haven't posted this one yet! Pudding and I do still write stuff together, so if you want to support us and get early access to our content please check us out on www.subscribestar.adult/sophieandpudding ---------------------- An ABDL Story By Sophie & Pudding Ambrose has always been into ageplay, but his efforts to take charge are never appreciated. After his girlfriend breaks up with him, Ambrose finds himself stuck in one of the ageplay stories he loves so much. However, this fantasy isn’t anything like the one he wanted. *Author’s Note: This story was written while taking audience suggestions. These suggestions (found in brackets throughout the story) greatly effect the narrative, and serve to highlight the differences between forced regression in fiction and forced regression in reality. Disclaimers: diapers, wetting, messing, reality altering ---------------------- Exposition "I think we should break up..." Honey sat awkwardly on the sofa, looking down at her feet. She had a crush on Ambrose ever since high school, but since they started dating a few months ago... "What are you talking about?" Ambrose balked. To him, this was a storm on a beautiful day. He never saw it coming. But Honey... "You can't really be that surprised," she sighed. "I've been telling you for weeks that I'm not happy. That I don't feel important in this relationship." "I've been trying to fix that," Ambrose groaned. "I keep telling you how to be happy, and it's like you actively do the opposite." "I don't need you to tell me—“ "Well, you sure can't seem to manage it on your own, can you?" Ambrose cut her off. "If you'd just listen for a change, you wouldn't have to worry about any of this. I'd take care of it." "No, you aren't hearing me," Honey raised her voice. She never used to do that. "You only make decisions that--" "Watch your tone," Ambrose said sharply. "If you're going to act like a little brat, I'll treat you like one." "Ugh!" Honey felt a fresh pang of irritation radiate through her bones. It was that kind of behavior she hated! That "I know what's best" for you shit. She played into it for far too long, and looking back on her actions brought her so much embarrassment. She thought acting like a fragile woman who needed a big strong man was what he wanted, but he just wanted to treat her like a little kid. So she got up of the couch and stormed off. Unfortunately, Ambrose was taller, with longer legs and bigger strides. He blocked the front door. "Move," Honey said sharply. "Listen, I'm sorry," Ambrose tried. "I'm just stressed about finals, you know? You know I'm not like this." "That's the problem, Ambrose. I don't know that. Now move." "Well, I'm not. Just sit back down, and we'll talk this out." "I don't want to," Honey said, her eyebrows pulled together in anger. "I don't want to work anything out." "Well, then who's fault really is it that we're breaking up?" Ambrose countered. "You're the one walking out." Honey stared dumbfounded. Part of her wanted to say and argue, to make Ambrose see what he was doing wrong. To help him. Not because she wanted to salvage the relationship, but because she wanted him to be better for the next girl that came along. But her therapist told Honey that none of that was her responsibility. Over the past few weeks, Honey had been trying to tell herself that too. "Move," Honey tried again. But Ambrose didn't. Not for another ten minutes, talking at her. "I can't believe you think I'm the problem. When you act like a little kid all the time. It's embarrassing. Every time we hang out with my friends, you..." "...and why? Because you're scared? Because you're scared of what it means to actually care about me? I'm not scared of it, Honey. I want to make this work, I'm willing to fight..." "...then fine, I don't care. I can't be responsible for your happiness if you're going to act like this. I want to be. I want to prove myself to you, but you won't let me. So, if what you really want to do is leave, then... leave." Ambrose moved out of the way and Honey hesitated. There were so many things he said that she wanted to correct, and it took every ounce of her being not to interrupt him. To correct him. To try to fix everything. Walking away now meant giving up the chance to ever make it better. But it's not my responsibility she reminded herself. So she left Ambrose's apartment. Ambrose wasn't what one would call an even-tempered kind of guy, and he certainly wasn't a go with the flow kind of guy, either. When Honey left his apartment, where someone else might have taken the time to take stock of themselves and the mistakes they'd made, Ambrose took a different route. He started to send a DM to Honey. Detailing to her all the ways that she could still salvage this relationship, and telling her that he forgave her for her mistakes. When all was said and done, and he'd sent the message chain, Ambrose knew that he needed to relax and blow off some steam. Saving this relationship was already hard work, and he knew he'd have a lot more work to do, showing Honey where she'd screwed up. The next morning, Ambrose checked his messages. Honey didn't reply. So he sent another DM just to make sure she got the messages okay, but it kicked back. "This user is not your friend; you can only send direct messages to users on your friend list." He had never gotten that message before. She must have unfriended him. His immediate reaction was irritation, but it quickly made way for disappointment. He sulked into his couch. Maybe this was more serious than he thought... He sent a different message to someone else: "Hey Z, you free? Mr. Beans?" Ten seconds later: "In class, 1 hr" One hour later: Ambrose put in an order at Mr. Bean, a coffee shop on campus. He ordered Z a milk tea as well, then found a table by the window. Almost on cue, Z walked by, waved through the glass, and came inside to sit down. Ambrose and Z had been best friends since high school, when Z still went by Zach. He was a little shorter than Ambrose, but he had broader shoulders with a bit of muscle. His nails were painted purple, and his springtime clothes were colorful and tight to his skin. Today, his belly button was showing. "Cute shit," Ambrose nodded. He always liked midriff tops, but for different reasons than Z. "Eight dollars at Ross!" Z said excitedly. "Ambrose," the barista called, and Z grabbed both cups before taking a seat. Ambrose had a particular coffee order, and it always made the barista's stomach sink when the young man walked in. A blonde caffe misto, where the coffee is an 8-ounce pour-over with 4 scoops of blonde coffee, ground one setting finer than usual, the milk must be non-fat, and steamed to 190 degrees. Honey syrup, added before the coffee, then 8 pumps of sugar free vanilla syrup, added between the coffee and the milk. No foam of course, served in a large cup - double cupped, no sleeve. Ambrose didn't see the issue. Meanwhile, Z drank milk tea or black coffee with a splash of cold water so there wasn’t a wait time to drink it. It wasn't a surprise who the barista liked more. "Sooooo, you and Honey?" "Wait, I didn't tell you that yet." "Yeeeaaaaaahh... but everyone knows already.” "How can everyone know already? This isn't high school," Ambrose sulked. "How you holding up?" Z asked. Ambrose shrugged. "I don't care." "Yes you do," Z smirked. "I don't know if she's really my type," Ambrose argued, trying to rationalize his breakup. It was more for his benefit than Z's. "Oh yeah? Sexy brunette isn't your type?" "She's a little fat?" Ambrose tried. She was a little fat! "Dude. She looks great. Don't take this shit out on her." Ambrose sulked, so Z decided to ask: "What happened? She just said you got into a fight." "Pretty much that," Ambrose said, sipping his coffee. Perfect. There was a reason he liked Mr. Bean. "About what?" "Uh... her being unhappy. Me, trying to fix it. Not fixing it enough. Or, her not letting me? I don't know. It feels like a blur." "Some people are just incompatible," Z shrugged. Ambrose nodded, but that was the problem. Some people are just incompatible. When he started dating Honey, she was a lot more of what he wanted: more of a sub, for lack of a better word. In the bedroom, things seemed to be going well, but whenever he tried to assert any kind of power in their everyday lives, she shut him down. Maybe she thought it was controlling? He was controlling! He wanted to be controlling! But nobody ever let him. If he and Honey were incompatible, Ambrose wondered if he would ever be compatible with anyone. That night, in bed, Ambrose opened up an old dating app. But he was only halfway through setting up his profile again when he gave up. He couldn't stop thinking about Honey. He didn't understand what went wrong. He closed the dating app and opened up his web browser, to his bookmarks. He clicked on a story he'd been reading. It was always so easy in stories, and Ambrose wished that the real world worked the same way. Was it so much to ask for a girl in the five-foot-three range, with a bratty smile, hair in pigtails, who longed for someone to just take away all of her control? He didn't want to tell a girl she couldn't do things, as much as he wanted to be the reason she could. He wanted to be depended upon, and needed. Ambrose sighed as he slipped into the world of the story, and his hand slipped into his pants. God he'd do anything to have his wish.

The Third Train Campbell stood on the station platform and looked down at his phone. 4 minutes until the train arrived. He was wearing his clothes again - all of them - but the cum-soaked diaper was still taped around his hips. His day with Harlow was better than anything he could have ever imagined. "Thank you," Campbell said, because he thought it was only fair to show his appreciation. "No, thank you," Harlow said, and put a hand on his cheek. "I didn't know how wonderful it would be to have a baby boy like you in my life, and now I'm starting to understand what I've been missing all this time. You have nothing to be ashamed of; I love this part of you." Campbell nodded shyly. Ever since he started talking to Harlow online, he kept wondering when he would get bored of it. When he'd get tired of taking care of another grown man. When he'd start finding diapers gross. But that was the first time that Campbell considered: maybe, never. "Next week, same time?" Campbell asked. "Of course. Get off at the right station this time." "Oh no!" Campbell smacked himself in the forehead. "I forgot to get more motion sickness meds! This train ride is gonna suck!" Harlow reached into his pocket and pulled out a little bottle. They were from his medicine cabinet back home, but the expiration date hadn't passed. He put them in Campbell's coat pocket. "Keep 'em." "Thanks. You're such a good Daddy." Campbell checked his phone again. 2 minutes. "I hate this part," Campbell said. "Me too," Harlow sighed. "But we can talk online all week. And hey, next time bring a backpack so you can take a few diapers home." Campbell nodded. He took a step forward and grabbed onto his Daddy's coat like a little kid. He looked up at Harlow and Harlow looked down at him, and they shared one more kiss. The last kiss of the first date. In the distance, the sound of a train whistle blew. [End]

I knew this was coming before you posted it, Penn. But I gotta just jump in here to say. One, I am never going to let Mia forget that when you wrote her life, it's in the format of an S&P story!! 😈 Two, you did a REALLY good job imitating our style. Also, I wanna be the first to say it. Your story is 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Oh my gosh! FlashyFlesh (https://twitter.com/TheFlashyFlesh) did a cover art for Academy II for me! I am so smitten with these characterizations of Ai and Bala!

Omg Pudding came up with that and I was SCREAMING. What a stupid joke!!! XD Thank you so much! I was honored to be a part of this amazing narrative that Mia has woven. I'm just glad I didn't let her down.

Chapter Seven After a long discussion, the principal assured Ai that what happened to her would never happen again. The only reason it slipped under the radar in the first place was because nobody had ever entered the Academy in diapers before. It also didn't help that she was in mittens, which automatically branded her as a kind of girl who got herself in trouble. The principal suggested "safe word" posters around the school, just in case, and they were up on the walls of every classroom within the week. With her boundaries safeguarded, Ai decided to spend some time at Ageplay Academy. Most of her days were in the Middle classroom, getting in touch with a childhood she never truly had. Other days, she volunteered as a babysitter for the daycare, just to understand the experience. Nothing gripped her quite like that first day, chained to the desk and flooding her diaper, but she never found the courage to return to that room. In truth, the most important and inviting element of Ageplay Academy to Ai was Rin. She was the first person with which Ai had ever had any kind of serious sexual encounter, and she wanted to explore those feelings. Rin was supportive, maybe out of a feeling of obligation or guilt, but Ai was also an attractive woman. Rin was a sucker for hot girls, especially hot girls in diapers. Unfortunately, Ai wasn't into diapers. Or, she said she wasn't. She tried a dozen other roles: "big" to Rin's "little", "disciplinarian" to Rin's "brat", "teacher" to Rin's "student". But despite the premise of the Academy, Ai was too embarrassed to delve deeply into ageplay. As it became more and more apparent that Ai wasn't willing - or maybe ready - to explore the things that brought them together, Ai and Rin started to drift further apart. In every bubble, Ai always did her best to stay for as long as she could. She didn't want to leave behind a place where she could be happy, where she could belong, unless she was absolutely sure it wasn't the right place for her. Sooner or later, that feeling always grew in her heart, that feeling of wanting to see over the next horizon. For Ageplay Academy, that feeling came in less than two weeks. Ai packed a bag. A diaper bag, because diaper bags were in abundance. The principal let her take anything she wanted from their stock; "it's the least I can do," he said. Ai took a few outfits worn by the daycare attendants, and buttoned herself up in a white blouse with dark pants. She was starting to feel like herself again. As she left the storage room, Ai hesitated by the door. She looked back at the room as if it were the entire Academy. All the things she experienced. Her awful introduction. Her adventures in babysitting. Her time with Rin. But one thing lingered a little longer than the rest. She picked up one of the white diapers off the shelf - in her size - and tucked it into her bag. "Just in case," Ai said to herself. "Once I'm outside the bubble, I can know for sure how I feel..." Rin went with Ai to the vending machine where she left her compass. Ai had considered going back for it a few times, but the location felt safe. No one knew about it but her, and it was still her only real possession. After rummaging around under the machine for a minute, Ai stood up and opened the compass. "Aren't you supposed to follow the needle?" Rin asked. "That's how you get back to your bubble, right?" "I'm not trying to go home," Ai said, turning herself in place to find the right path. "Why not?" Rin asked. "I dunno," Ai shrugged. "I got bored..." "You could do anything you wanted, right?" Rin asked, because Ai had talked about home before. "How could that be boring?" "It just was..." Ai didn't know how to explain it. Some bubbles were made up of a hundred people. Those bubbles were shaped by a lot of different minds, and a lot of different wants and needs. People who shared a bubble tended to be grouped together for a reason. Like Ageplay Academy. But other bubbles had fewer inhabitants. Some, like Ai's, only had one. A solitary mind, with singular wants and needs. Ai could make her world any way she wanted it to be. But that was the problem. What she wanted wasn't hers to give; it had to be something she found. She had to look for it, through error and opportunity. So she left. She gave up infinite power in one tiny universe for no power at all in millions. Because out there, in the millions, she had a chance to find where she belonged. She had the chance to find her purpose. "Well if you're going in the opposite direction from the needle, then you can follow it back here, right?" "Yeah, I think so," Ai said. She didn't know if that was how it worked, but she hoped it was. Ai had said goodbye hundreds of times, through hundreds of bubbles, and they always felt the same. A universal feeling, despite all the other inconsistencies. A necessary pain. It didn't seem fair to Ai that, in worlds where people could have pretty much anything they wanted, any pain at all was necessary. But she worried that a world without loss would be a world without love. And what was the fun in that? "I'll miss you." Rin said. "I'll miss you too," Ai said back. "I hope you find it, whatever you're looking for." "I'm getting close," Ai said, and kissed Rin goodbye. It made Ai's stomach flutter with pleasant feelings, but not pleasant enough. Ageplay Academy wasn't far from the edge of its own bubble. On certain nights from certain places, Ai could see the faint shimmering without even leaving the building. As she approached the unworldly surface, she wondered what she was going to face. She wondered what the price she'd paid in leaving all of this behind would buy her. When Ai stepped through the shimmer, the sun was warm and the air was pleasant. The grass beneath her feet was a deep, beautiful aqua, and a lake in the distance glittered gold in the midday sunlight. All around her, trees and bushes curled in beautiful shapes out of the ground, like something from a fairy tale. But most of all, Ai didn't feel anxious to be in a new place. The atmosphere wasn't charged; it was heavy. Heavy and light at the same time, with a wonderful wistfulness to it. In only moments, Ai started to feel very sleepy. Ai wandered down the hill toward the lake. It was in the center of a park, with paths of glass stones and benches with big, cavernous chairs. In the distance, Ai thought she could make out the pink gingham of a blanket. But Ai's feet wouldn't take her much further. She sat down on the edge of the hill and yawned. What... a... beautiful... day... "Mm..." "Hey there, sleepy head," a voice cooed. A familiar voice. But when Ai opened her eyes, she didn't recognize the face. A woman, a little younger than her. A warm smile. Dark, heavy hair. And a diaper in her hands, wringing it gently to open it up. Ai blinked a few times, then looked over at her diaper bag. It was unzipped. And that diaper was... "You had a little accident," the woman smiled. "But don't worry, I'm taking care of it." Ai tried to sit up. Her body was heavy. Her mind was heavy. But sure enough, the dark pants she had worn through the shimmer were wet between the legs. The woman unbuttoned the front of them and began to strip Ai of her wet pants and underwear. "I, um... dunno how that... happened..." Ai said sleepily. "That's okay," the woman laughed. "It happens to my sister all the time. Do you have a name, little one?" "Little... one?" Ai wanted to contend with that nickname, but she felt too sleepy to come up with a good argument. So she answered the question instead. "Ai, um... I'm Ai..." "Nice to meet you, Ai. My name is Aya." Aya. Yeah, that sounded familiar too. But before Ai could try to figure out where she'd heard that name before, her legs were pulled up into the air by an unseen force. The sleepiness took a backseat to sheer surprise, and Ai quickly tried to pull down her shirt. "Shh, shh, no one is going to hurt you," Aya said calmly. "The Specters are just helping out." "Specters...?" Ai asked, as Aya slid the diaper under Ai's bottom. "They're our friends," Aya said cheerily. "They take care of my sister and I. And, well... I suppose you too, now that you're here." "Where... where is here?" "Here," Aya repeated, motioning out to the park, to the lake, to the trees and the gardens all around the both of them. "Eden." "Eden..." Ai rubbed her eyes and the invisible Specters set her back down on the diaper. Aya sprinkled some powder on Ai's skin and pulled it up between her legs. The sound of each tape echoed through the whole world, like faraway bells. And when Ai was once again in diapers, she knew without a doubt that it hadn't been Ageplay Academy that made her feel this way. The diaper was resplendent in the light that seemed to come from everywhere but nowhere at the same time. It felt like a long lost love. It felt like everything she had ever wanted. Ai belonged in Eden. Ai belonged in diapers. "Is Eden a nice place?" Ai asked, because it was the first thought that came into her mind. "It's the best place," Aya said simply. She patted the front of Ai's diaper and helped her off the grass. Right away, Ai stumbled and nearly fell down the hill, but a flurry of invisible forces held her upright. Then, they lifted Ai off the ground completely, just a few inches. She could feel hands grabbing at her, squeezing her ankles and her arms and her diapered butt. But just as quickly as the feelings were there, they were gone, to other places on her body. Ai didn't know if the Specters were invisible people, or a mass of shifting forcefields, or both at the same time. "C'mon, I'll show you around," Aya smiled. Suddenly, the force beneath Ai compressed itself so thickly that it became visible. Bending light and energy, twisting space. But the more it twisted, the finer the form it took. In less than a second, it became its own kind of matter. And that matter shifted in color and appearance, until it looked exactly like an oversized pram. Ai was gently lowered into it, and found it to be soft and comfortable, as if it was never anything but an oversized pram. "What just happened..." Ai asked sleepily, trying to make sense of everything. "Don't think too hard," Aya said softly. "Just let the Specters take care of everything for you." Ai nodded, and the pram started to move on its own. Down the hill of bluish grass, toward the golden lake. Aya followed at its side. "Um, I can... can walk..." Ai tried to argue, but she wasn't sure why. She was so tired, and the pram ride was so cozy. Why would she want to walk? "No need," Aya answered. "Just relax." "Relax..." Ai repeated. That sounded... so lovely... "The Specters can carry you, move you, do everything for you," Aya explained. "They can be anything you need, or anything you want, or… anything, I guess. So you don't have to worry about anything, not a single thing." Not worrying wasn't something Ai was good at. All her life, she'd had an insatiable curiosity, like an itchy fabric in the back of her head, something her skin didn't agree with. But when Aya told her that there was nothing to worry about, Ai believed her. She trusted her, implicitly, like a voice from on high. At first glance, the golden lake didn't look to be particularly big. But as Aya led Ai around it, it seemed to take forever. On the right, they passed a playground. A beach. Trees that looked like cotton candy. An ocean of bubbles, like a giant bath. A pretzel stand. A hot dog stand. A lemonade stand. The night sky, in the middle of the afternoon. A penguin rental kiosk. A castle with an army of empty armor. A very large bed. A very small bed. Paintbrushes. A "Fill" tool, to color anything. Kisses with wings. A spacecraft. Everything, but upside down. Giant mountains made of candles, with flames of fireworks. A musical. The timeline. Lost atmosphere. Corduroy. Mixed tapes. Mixing bowls. Marshmallows. Mars. Honey made of money. Money made of honey. A kickball field. Waterslides. The absence of the descriptor "sticky". Waterfalls of watermelons. Trampolines. Trapezoids. Pennies. Lightning, but small. Clouds, but ice cubes, but warm. The center of a whirlpool, but only the center. Kindergarten. Kind gardens. Mean gardens, but kind when you got to know them. And a million other things Ai didn't have words for. Perhaps, because she didn't need those words anymore, or perhaps because there never were any in the first place. And on the left, there was the golden lake. "Do you understand?" Aya asked. "This is the best place." Ai nodded. Her diaper was soggy and warm, and her mind was alight with arousal. The kind of feeling she had when that girl touched her diaper. That girl, from that other place. Who was she? Where was that? But it didn't feel like that at all. It wasn't sexy; it was pure. It was what all emotion should have been. A warm, soggy diaper, and an endless lifetime of pleasantness. Before long, Ai was lying on the grass and Aya was patting her diapered butt. Ai sunk into the ground like an ice cream on a hot day. She grunted and pushed and effortlessly filled her diaper. And life was perfect. Except... "Ai, do you mind if I ask you a question?" Aya asked. "Mm... nuh uh..." "Where are you from?" Where was she from? Ai didn't know. So she said: "Here." "No, I know... but what about before here?" Aya asked. "No one else has ever come here... I didn't even know there were others, other than my sister and myself. And now you're here." Ai didn't know what to say, but Aya's question seemed like a good one. "Are you a Specter?" Aya asked. "Are you like the pram?" The pram... Ai shook her head. She was not like the pram. She wasn't from here, was she? Aya had convinced Ai that Eden was the best place to be. That there weren't any better places. And if no places were any better, what was the point of discussing other places at all? But Aya was curious, and there was no crueler fate to Ai than a question unanswered. So Ai tried her best to think of one, and the answers came easily to her. Like they were there all along. "I'm from another place, many bubbles away. Like circles touching, and going on and on, and on and on, and on and on..." Ai paused, and for a moment she considered something Aya had said: no one else had ever come here. Aya had never met anyone other than her sister, and now Ai. "What was it like?" Aya asked. "It was..." Ai paused. When she tried to think about all those other bubbles, only one word came to mind. "Different..." "Eden is different," Aya said, almost in defense of it. "There can't possibly be anything anywhere else that doesn't exist here already. Right?" Ai shook her head. She didn't know how to answer Aya's question, so she spoke from the heart. "Everywhere I've been... maybe this is the best one. The best feelings, and... the best of everything. But I guess... if it's the best... then there has to be things that aren't as good. And because they aren't as good, they can't be here, right?" Aya was quiet, but she slowly nodded. "I'm happy to be here," Ai said. "But... I think... I think I was happy to be in those places too, for different reasons. Because the best isn't very good at all without something to compare it to." Ai remembered why she left home in the first place, why a single universe was never going to be enough for her. Because she believed, deep down in her heart, that she wasn't meant to stay still. Perhaps her quest for belonging was never about a destination, but about the journey. She found a little bit of belonging everywhere she went, and in a way, everywhere else belonged to her too. The conversation with Aya continued for eternity. Or it lasted just a few minutes. That was the problem with endlessness: there was no point of reference. No transitions. Nothing to lead you to the next important moment. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Bala asked sharply. She was sitting in a playpen, on foam puzzle piece tiles. Ai was sitting across from her, and walls of plastic surrounded them like mountains surrounded a village. Like a river surrounded a castle. Like a yard surrounded an academy. Bala was dressed in a white onesie, decorated in halos and cartoon wings and the laughter of children and the heat of the universe. Ai looked down at her own clothes, which had changed: a red onesie, with horns and pitchforks and block towers of arrogance and the coldness of space. "Subtle," Ai sighed, rolling her eyes. Suddenly, everything was so clear to her. She remembered her purpose. "I gave you everything you wanted. I gave everybody everything!" Bala balled her hands at her sides. "Do you know how hard it is to make everybody happy? I had to break it all up into a billion pockets. Into tiny happinesses, instead of one big one! But I did it! I did it, and you had to go and ruin it! Why do you have to ruin everything?" "I didn't ruin anything," Ai shot back, balling her own hands at her sides. "You did!" Bala shouted. One baby shouting at another across a plastic, colorful universe. "I put you so far away from us, but you came here anyway. Then you told Aya all about the other places, the other people. You brought sin into Eden. And now she's gonna leave! Maybe not right away, but sooner or later." "Then let her go," Ai fumed. "She can make her own decisions." "Let her go? What do you think happens to the universe when God abandons Heaven? Everyone else does too. The structure of it all, the building blocks... nobody will be happy ever again." "You're wrong," the demon said to the angel. She toddled forward a single step, rattle of Damocles in hand. "I was happier in every other bubble than the one you stuck me in. I was happy, because of the possibilities. Because there was so much to learn and know, and so many new ways to grow and get better." "You think you're any better?" the angel asked. A throne appeared beneath her and she was lifted up into the sky, safely secured with a tray in front. "You're worse than ever before. You're selfish, and you're willing to sacrifice everything I made for everyone else, because you think you're right!" "You hypocrite," the demon hissed, waving her rattle. "You want to condemn me for selfishness, when you trapped all those people here to take care of you? You think I don't know who the Specters are? Was this their wish?" "They can be anything!" Bala screamed. "They can be the stars themselves! They aren't bound by matter or reality or anything! They have all the power they wanted!" "They can't be anything, because you won't let them choose. You're too scared that they'll choose wrong, and they'll blame you." "You don't know anything about me!" Bala said as loud as she could, as loud as the Big Bang. "You want to put everyone in a box of what is 'best'," Ai said angrily, because when someone didn't listen, the best answer was to say it louder. "Just like Aya, and this farce of a paradise. But if something is the 'best', then there's no getting any better. There's no point." "SHUT UP!" The walls of the playpen around Ai and Bala exploded into stardust, along with the chair and the rattle, and the two of them were left alone in the dark. Then Ai felt a pang of something other than anger, a feeling that resonated through the emptiness and through the both of them. Ai felt disappointment, because the universe was at the whims of a true child. "You can't start at the end," Ai said sadly. "Fucking watch me."

Chapter Six "What do you two think you are doing?" Ms. Lady's voice was sharp and loud, like the sound of breaking glass. Her timing was the opposite of impeccable: only seconds after Ai twitched and spasmed, splattering the inside of her diaper with cum. Her timing was sinful. "Oh, Ms. Lady!" Rin said through labored breaths, struggling to her feet. "I was just, uh... this new student here—" Like the crack of thunder, the ruler came down on the side of Rin's thigh. Ai squinted up at the bleary lights, at the fresh air... she was dizzy and in disbelief. "Both of you, to the principal's office. Now." "Y-yes ma'am..." Rin reached down and helped Ai off the ground. Ai tried to pull away, but she was weak and malleable after her first orgasm. Before she could defend herself to her teacher or her classmates, Rin had dragged her haphazardly into the hall and Ai almost fell down. The diapers between her legs felt thicker than ever, and her mind was fuzzy with conflict. When Ai finally came to, she was sitting in a wooden chair in a long hallway. The door in front of her said "Principal's Office", and Rin was in the chair beside her. When Rin looked over, Ai quickly dropped her gaze. She didn't know what to say... what to do! Ai had no experience with something like this, and her face was burning with embarrassment. "I can't believe you got me in trouble..." Rin's voice was different to the cocky bully in the classroom; she sounded a little pouty, actually. Maybe without an audience, she didn't have any reason to keep up the persona. Or maybe she was genuinely worried about getting in trouble. "You got you in trouble," Ai muttered, trying to argue with Rin in a way that wasn't technically a lie. Everything they had done together, Ai had liked. She hated that she liked it. "Ah, so you're playing it that way," Rin sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well, that isn't what I'll be telling the principal." Ai was so angry, but she didn't have the energy for it. Her body and mind were spent, and Rin was still trying to make it worse for her. But before anything could get worse, the door opened and a head poked out. "The principal will see you girls now." The principal's office was mostly wood decor. The walls were a polished wood, and the large desk was wood as well. It had windows, with soft light streaming through them. Ai wondered where her exit was, and how she would get there. She had to get her compass back. But for now, the principal demanded her attention. He was taller than Ai, but most people were. He was also older, but not by much. Above everything else, he was attractive. "What has gotten into the two of you?" he said with disappointment dripping in his tone. Both Ai and Rin shrunk a little, standing in front of the desk. "She started it," Rin pouted. "I was trying to help her learn her manners, and—" "You're in here once a week," he said to Rin. "It feels like you can't stay out of trouble. But this is the first time I've seen you, Miss..." "Uh... me?" Ai was too distracted by everything that happened to remember why she was here in the first place. "I'm Ai Sinclair, sir. And I'm not from here. I'm trying to get to a different bubble." "Blah blah blah," Rin mocked. "Just another lie to get out of trouble." "I'm not lying," Ai said firmly, but her cheeks were still pink. "Look, she's blushing," Rin teased. Even in front of the principal, it didn't seem like she could behave. "She's loving all this attention. She wants this to happen." "I do not!" Ai said a little louder, and her cheeks took on a bit more color. "You can't assume that stuff just because my face is red! If you'd just... listen..." Something was wrong. Suddenly, everything around Ai was muted and grey, like looking through foggy glass. The room was a little darker, and the expression on Rin's face was frozen mid eye-roll. The principal behind the desk was also frozen, looking a little annoyed. But Ai wasn't frozen, and she was still the same colors as before. "Um... hello...?" Neither of them answered. Ai got a little panicked. "Rin? Hey, Rin?" Ai took a step toward Rin, reached out, and touched her. Suddenly, Rin's colors returned and she took stock of the grey room. "Oh, hey," Rin said, noticing Ai. "Should I be less mean? I feel like I'm being too mean." "I... what? What are you..." Ai shook her head, trying to shake away the nonsense of the situation. If she could just think for a moment... "I can come clean with the principal if you want," Rin suggested. "I'll get in trouble, but that's kind of the point, right?" The confusion on Ai's face must have been evident, because Rin started to become confused too. "You safe-worded, right?" Rin asked. "I... I don't know what you're talking about!" Ai sighed, angry and exhausted. "Woah, hey! No playing in Safe Space. You have to be real." Now Rin seemed annoyed. But as she watched Ai's frustration build, as tears filled her eyes, Rin hesitated. Her annoyance dripped away. "Hey... you know what's going on, right?" Rin asked. "I mean, no games. No pretend. You opened this Safe Space, right?" "I don't know what that means," Ai said again, just as angry and exhausted as the first time. But this time, she sounded a lot more defeated. "Oooh boy. Oh boy oh boy. Shit. I'm so sorry, I should have checked! I just, we don't usually have people who don't understand how things work here. I am so sorry." This wasn't the same Rin. Well, she was the same Rin, but her attitude and demeanor couldn't have been more different. This was a concerned young woman who was realizing that she'd just pushed the limits of someone who didn't know the rules of the game, and she felt awful. But more importantly, this was a person who wanted to make sure that Ai understood everything, and that was Ai's favorite kind of person. "Are you okay? I was really rough with you in there, and if you didn't know that you could safe word that's hugely negligent of me." "I'm... fine? I guess? What are you talking about? What safe word?" Ai's frustration was beginning to wane, though her confusion was not. At least it felt like someone was finally listening to her. "You said 'red', remember?" Rin asked. Had she? Ai tried to go through her own dialogue, but she couldn't be sure. "When you say 'red', it sets up the Safe Space," Rin explained. "You can take any time you need, and anyone you touch enters the Safe Space with you. That way, you can talk about what you need, or what you want to go differently, or whatever. And it doesn't ruin the scene." "This is... a game...?" Ai asked, starting to puzzle it out. "You're all playing a... a weird... dress-up diaper game?" "Uh, yeah..." Rin blushed a little and twirled the ends of her hair. "For some people, it's just a way to play and relax. For others, it's kind of like a kink? Sexy, you know?" "I don't know," Ai said bluntly. "Why would I know this!" "Well, you were put in the brat classroom!" Rin said in her defense. "I just thought... I mean, you were really convincing..." "Convincing that I didn't want to be treated like that?" Ai asked rhetorically. "Yeah, because I didn't want to be treated like that!" "Look, I'm so sorry! It's not usually my job to check stuff like that; we have staff. But when you didn't safe word, I should have known. I'm... I'm not trying to shirk my responsibility here. I'm just trying to explain." Ai hesitated. She wanted to hate Rin, but she seemed so sincere. And in retrospect, looking back, it all seemed so made up. Like a play. Of course it was a play... but Ai had never been to a bubble like this one before... "Okay... I believe you," Ai finally said, crossing her arms. She looked down at her own outfit, then up at Rin's. They were both still in their diapers, and Rin's was full. Thankfully, the time-stop seemed to prevent the smell from getting through. An important stipulation, surely. "I can talk with the others and let them know that you weren't informed, and they won't ever mention that scene again. It will be like it never happened. I'm really upset that nobody told you. I was having a great time, and I thought you were too, and now… well, I just feel so guilty. And like, I'm not blaming you for that! I just wish whoever dropped the ball… well, hadn't." "No, um... it's... a misunderstanding, I guess..." Probably the biggest misunderstanding of Ai's life, but sometimes that came with the territory of bubble hopping. Now that everything was starting to make more sense, Ai felt a little twinge of embarrassment. "It wasn't so bad," Ai admitted shyly. "I don't know why I acted like that... and I don't even know why I'm bringing this up." "Safe Space does that," Rin explained. "It tries to coax the truth out of you, so you can express yourself. And since you opened this Safe Space, I'm actually more inclined to listen and believe you. Which... is maybe why I didn't listen before..." Rin paused a moment, lost in thought, then continued her explanation. "As for your feelings when we... uh... ya know... don't be too embarrassed about that. A lot of feelings are amplified at Ageplay Academy, like how it feels when you wet a diaper. Or if someone touches you in one. It's like turning up all your feelings to eleven. Even the teachers and caregivers feel it, but it's different for them." "Right... so even if I don't like any of this stuff, the rules of this bubble make me like it?" "Well, no, it should just amplify it..." Rin paused for a moment. To her knowledge, a Big didn't feel the same things a Little did. Rin herself had experimented with different roles, but nothing ever felt as good as bratting. "Well, maybe something went wrong," Rin shrugged. "You came into this bubble in a diaper already, right? It could have messed with things." "Yeah, that makes sense..." But if Ai thought too hard about it, she would find that it didn't really make sense at all. Something else was pulling her strings. "We should explain all this to the principal," Rin urged. "Just touch him and it'll draw him into the Safe Space. And when you are ready to close it, when you feel safe, just say 'green'." Ai nodded. She still had a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter Five Ai Sinclair had no memory of wearing a diaper. She had no memory of wetting one. She probably had, because that was what babyhood was like. But unlike most kids she met in her travels, Ai didn't have parents. She never had a babyhood, as far as she could remember. If she thought hard about it, her imagination could fill in the gaps: the tension of a blanket swaddling her shoulders, or the sight of looking up at someone as they wiped her skin clean. But Ai had lived for a long time in her bubble, and she'd never known anything about aging until she'd left. That was the thing about bubbles. They're just... different. But nothing was quite so different as the feeling of soaking her diaper. The heat on her skin. The sodden padding, growing thicker and thicker. The uncontrollable bliss... the blissful lack of control. And it seemed to go on forever. It didn't stop. Never in her entire life had she peed for so long, and never with anybody watching her. Ai's humiliation got the better of her, and she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see the teacher or her classmates. She wanted to pretend they didn't exist; out of sight, out of mind. But with another one of her senses stripped away, others lit up like fireworks. The tingling between her legs. The warmth on her cheeks. The sharp inhales and exhales as Ai lost control of her breathing. Her fingers trembled in the mittens. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. And it just... didn't... stop... Soon, the diaper between her legs was heavy and warm and pleasant. Her mind was swirling with a thousand feelings, but not a single thought. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she opened her glossy eyes. Everyone was still there; they didn't disappear. They were still watching her, and Ai had never been so embarrassed. "Well, it seems someone had a little accident," Ms. Lady teased. Her voice felt like daggers, slicing up Ai's pride into ribbons. Ai wanted to argue that it wasn't her fault, that Ms. Lady wouldn't let her use the restroom, but her words were frozen in her throat. Her brain wasn't sending the right signals anymore. All she felt was... good. So, so good. Ms. Lady went back to teaching the class, and Ai sunk lower into her seat. The diaper was so squishy beneath her, and Ai made the mistake of squeezing her legs together. The plastic crinkled and a shiver zipped up her spine. Involuntarily, she did it again. And again. And again. Ai hung her head in shame, and in an effort to mask her shallow breathing. To hide her pink cheeks. To steer her focus away from Ms. Lady and the classroom and toward the willpower to stop what she was doing. But there wasn't enough willpower in all of Ai's mind or body. For the next ten minutes, she squirmed and crinkled and flooded herself with undeniable pleasure. At the same time, and somewhat paradoxically, the students seemed both entranced with Ai and entirely dismissive of her. No one was watching her, but any time she looked away, she could feel the attention of her classmates. She could almost hear the things they were thinking about her. How Ai was just one step away from Henry's fate: a mushy-bottomed toe sucker. Ai's breathing was still shallow, and every now and again little gasps would escape her lips. How she longed to cover her mouth with her hand. "That's all for today, class," Ms. Lady finally said, shaking Ai from her introspection. The ropes around her wrists unfurled, as they did with everyone else in the classroom. "Tomorrow's class is about etiquette, and I expect you all to be dressed appropriately," Ms, Lady said, sharply pointing her words at Ai. Unbound at the ankles and the wrists, Ai could get up. But getting up was a little dizzying. She was still adapting to all the sensations of her wet diaper, and even lifting her bottom up off the chair caused so many new ones. The tug on her hips, as the heavy padding sagged between her legs. The squishiness in all new places. Finally, Ai gave up and sat back down, resting her head on her mittened hands. "Hey there new girl." Ai lifted her head just enough to see Rin standing over her desk. She was leaning on one foot, twirling her hair with her finger. She smiled sweetly. Sickly so. "Seems like you really had a good time in class," she teased. "Shut up," Ai muttered, putting her head back down. Every muscle in her body felt tense and weak at the same time. "You must really love your diapers, hm? Pissing yourself like that in front of everyone, then moaning like a little slut?" Ai raised her head and glared at Rin. She knew a slut wasn't exactly a bad thing to be, but Ai didn't have much experience. Sex wasn't a thing in her original bubble, but Ai knew enough to be offended by Rin's implication. "What's your problem?" Ai said sharply. "I didn't do anything to you." "My problem? I don't have a problem. Do you?" Rin asked rhetorically. "It seems like you had a really good time, that's all. Did you like it when I stared at you like that? When I watched your widdle assident?" The last two words from Rin's mouth were twisted into baby talk, and Ai was struggling to keep up with her logic. Her head was swimming. Or drowning. She couldn't even tell. She tried to get a word in between Rin's, but the other girl just kept talking. It was like one unbroken sentence, moving from topic to topic, and Ai couldn't find a spot to interrupt. It was kind of hypnotic. "It makes sense that a pervert like you would be obsessed with me though; I'm kind of a big deal around here. You're lucky that I'm even talking to a little diaper dork like you." The fact that Rin was in a diaper too didn't seem to matter. "And not only are you a pervy little dork, but you're rude too! You haven't even thanked me for my attention." "I'm not thanking you for anything," Ai said fiercely. She knew different bubbles had different rules, but she always stood up for herself when she thought she was being treated unfairly. Communication was important, after all. "Aww, you think you're such a big girl," Rin cooed. "But this behavior of yours isn't very mature at all. It's rather childish, actually." "Because acting like a bully is so grown up?" Ai shot back. Then a low chorus of "ooo"s flooded the room. Ai looked around to find the rest of the class watching from the sidelines. Somehow, their argument had become a spectacle. "Oh, oh, you think I'm a bully?" Rin crossed her arms, and looked over her shoulders to the left and to the right, at the gathered crowd. "You hear that, y'all? This baby slut diaper dork thinks that I'm a bully. It sure sounds like she's never known what it means to be bullied before, doesn't it?" Her attention shifted back to Ai and she smirked confidently. "Maybe I should show you what bullying looks like?" Ai felt a pang of anxiety. Most of the people in her travels were rather kind; there was no history of abuse or violence or neglect. Every now and again Ai's ethics and morals didn't quite line up with the worlds she visited, but almost all of them were respectful of their differences. Once or twice, in extreme cases, she was asked to leave. But what happened at the King's Kingdom and what was happening now seemed so disproportionately violating. "Whatever," Ai sighed, trying to tone down her frustration. She got to her feet with every intention of walking out of the classroom, but the weight on her hips was startling. The diaper sagged halfway down her thighs, and she almost lost her balance. Her agitation was whisked away, replaced with embarrassment and fervor. Ai blushed deeper than before. "Oh? Whatever? Did you mean, whatever you say, Miss Rin. I'm a little diaper brat who needs to be put in her place? Is that what you meant?" Rin stepped directly in Ai's way and gave her a shove. Ai held onto one of the desks and managed to stay standing, but the heavy padding between her legs caused her to lose her footing. With another shove, Rin pushed Ai backward, away from the door and toward the crowd of students. They dispersed, giving space for Rin and Ai to have their tussle. "Oh my gosh, what is your problem!" Ai said angrily, losing her composure. Every step in her soaking wet diaper was a rush of new sensations, each one stealing more and more of Ai's breath. So when Rin stepped toward her again, Ai panicked and shoved her right back. Ai had been in fights before, but none were so inelegant. They were demonstrations, like a show of strength. Or they were customary, like a call and response. Sometimes fights were acceptable, sometimes they were necessary, and sometimes they were lauded. But this was none of those. This was a total mess. Rin didn't strike or attack Ai; she tugged on her clothes and pulled her hair. Ai, realizing very quickly how immobile she was in such a thick diaper, mirrored Rin. In the end, Ai was knocked onto the floor, landing on her padded behind with a squish and a shiver. She was out of breath and her body tingled in an unbelievably pleasant way. Her face was red with embarrassment. Rin stood over Ai with her hands on her hips and a wicked smile on her face. Rin stepped forward twice, so that each of her feet was on either side of Ai's hips. From that position of power, she descended and sat her ass upon Ai's stomach, pinning her in place. She grabbed Ai's wrists, one in each hand, and held those down too. "Pinned on the ground by a girl in a diaper? You're so pathetic." Ai was awash with conflict. On one hand, everything Rin said sounded like something on a radio drama. That's where she learned about bullies to begin with, since she had never gone to a proper school. It was so stupid, it was almost laughable. But on the other hand, Ai's body was flooded with gooey emotions and her soggy diaper begged to be squished and rubbed. And a girl was on top of her? For the first time in a very long time, Ai wanted to kiss somebody. "Y-you're... um... lemme..." Ai's conflict was a terribly slow tug of war. It was humiliating, and the entire class was looking down on her. Literally and figuratively. "Tsk tsk... you really should learn your manners," Rin teased. "If you'd just thank me for all this attention..." Ai shook her head; it was all her determination would allow. Rin sighed, clucking her tongue in that universally chastising way, that way that everyone understood. "Well, lucky for you, I'm really good at teaching little brats how to be polite and grateful." She kept Ai pinned to the ground and looked up at the gawking students. "Aren't I?" Rin asked. There were a few quiet mumbles, all of which sounded affirmative, and some nods of the head. But there were a lot of blushing cheeks. Before Ai could come up with a solution, Rin pulled Ai's wrists down to her sides and spun around on her tummy. With her knees on either side of Ai, she pinned her arms in place and arched her back. Rin's diaper was on full display, only inches from Ai's face. It was thick and swollen, forcing Rin's legs apart. Ai could see the faint line halfway up her backside, where the pure white padding changed to a muted yellow. "Goodness, what a cute little print," Rin teased, lifting Ai's dress. "Everybody, come look at the new kid's diaper! It's like it was made for a baby!" Then Rin pressed her hand to Ai's diaper, causing her to shiver involuntarily beneath the bully. The rush of pleasure was intense, but it quickly capsized to violent waves of humiliation. "Oh my gosh, did you all see that?" Rin mocked. "She's like a little toy, look! I push the button~" Rin pressed her hand expertly against Ai's diaper and grinned, pressing fingers into the padding like a skilled artist crafting from clay. Then she flattened her palm, forcing the sodden, swollen padding up against Ai's intimates. Ai shivered, and let out the cutest little noises. "And she moves and makes sounds!" Rin went on. "Maybe that's why you don't have any manners, diaper dork; maybe you're just a toy who doesn't have that function. Maybe you're just for playing with? Is that right?" "Lemme... up..." Ai tried to throw Rin off of her, with no success. It felt insurmountable, like moving a mountain. "No, no," Rin tsked. "Toys don't give orders. Toys get played with. You don't think you still have any power, do you?" She squeezed Ai's diaper again and Ai whined a needy whine. "You know, if you'd just used your manners, I might have even mistaken you for a sweet little girl. But you're not, are you? You're a naughty little toy." Each of Rin's ministrations had been precise, planned, and theatrical. What Rin did next was much more chaotic: she began to knead at Ai's diaper like a cat kneading a blanket, like the padding was dough. And as she kneaded, she began to rock on her knees, shifting her diaper closer and closer to Ai's face. Ai couldn't focus on any one thing. The pleasure from the soggy diaper. The words Rin used to humiliate her. The sight of everyone looking down on her. The gentle press of plastic against her nose, as Rin sat back onto her face. She knew she had gotten into this mess herself, but the way out was shrouded in smoke and mirrors. "You're the most helpless little diaper dork I've ever met," Rin jeered. She seemed to be having the time of her life. "Even a brat in a diaper like me can top you. Could this be any more humiliating for you?" Ai thought, with resounding certainty: no. Rin thought, with resounding certainty: yes. "You're clearly at the bottom of the social ladder. You're clearly helpless. You're clearly just a toy to be played with. So I should treat you exactly the way that I'd treat any of my other stuffies. Any of my other toys." There were some gasps from the people that had gathered; some knowing sounds and mumbles. "I can't believe you're going to let me do this to you, diaper dork. But you're such a pervert that you're probably getting off on it." Rin leaned forward and her diaper pressed ever-closer to Ai's face. Ai tried to turn her head, but the soft squish of Rin's diaper pressed into her cheek. It left an imprint in the padding, contouring around Ai's nose and chin. The faint smell of pee from inside Rin's diaper wafted around Ai's face. Ai was about to thrash again, to push Rin off, when the bully pressed on the front of her diaper and Ai moaned involuntarily into the bully's padding. Rin arched her back a bit more and the seat of her diaper began to swell. The padding was soft and mushy as it warped around Ai's face, covering her lips and her nose. Then the smell of pee mixed with something new and Ai realized: Rin was pooping her diaper while sitting on her face! Ai reeled and whimpered, kicking and twisting to throw Rin off, but Rin held her ground. Grunting and pushing, the diaper grew bigger and bigger. It was almost comical, the way her diaper ballooned out. It continued to swell until Ai's whole face pressed into it like a fluffy pillow. She could still breathe, but Ai almost wished she couldn't. "Wow. You just stayed down there the entire time," Rin teased. She sounded a little out of breath, and her cheeks sparkled with perspiration. "You must really enjoy this!" As Rin leaned back, she arched her back and raised her arms to stretch, using Ai's face as a seat for her mushy bottom. The crowd mumbled and gossiped and made declarations about the kind of girl Ai Sinclair truly was. Now she had a reputation, and it would only become cemented in the coming minutes. Rin leaned forward again. This time, when she began to rub Ai's diaper, it wasn't to tease or interrupt Ai's arguments; this time, it was with intent. "How pathetic," Rin's voice rung in Ai's ears. "It's one thing to be a little diaper dork, or a helpless toy to play with. But to let a girl fill her diaper on your face? To whimper and moan while you bury your face into my stinky diaper?" Ai hated Rin. And not because Rin was teasing her, but because Rin was right. Because ever since she'd wet her diaper, the feelings inside of Ai had been overwhelming. Lust and desperation she had never known. Sex itself was an uncomfortable urge at best, something Ai had gone her entire life without much interest in. And now, in a soaking wet diaper, with her face plunged into the seat of another girl's messy diaper, she was more turned on than ever. Even Rin's taunts weren't enough to quell her libido. For the first time in her known life, Ai really wanted to cum. She hoped her pride and self-control would be enough to triumph over her desire, but nothing had ever stopped nor could ever stop Ai Sinclair from getting what she wanted. Not even herself.

Chapter Four When Ai woke up, everything felt heavy. A welling anxiety filled her up, and just as easily as it came, it slipped away. She was with Mommy and Daddy. She was okay. Then Ai woke up again, and everything was still heavy. A welling panic itched in the back of her mind, and she tried to shoo it away. She was with Mommy and Daddy. Everything was wonderful. Ai woke up a third time, and everything was still heavy. But there was something more than anxiety, more than panic... she slowly rubbed her eyes and the mittens jingled. Jingled? Mittens? Ai managed to open her eyes. She expected to find the morning light, and Mommy unbuttoning her shirt for another meal. Or Daddy's thick, heavy words, telling her how to be a good girl. But it was dark. Dark? Nighttime. Ai remembered what that was. Night and day. Like yesterday and today. Everything was night and day... ever since nursing on... The milk. It was like Daddy's voice. It was so entrancing, and... wait, why did she wake up in the first place? Because Ai had to pee. Ai laid there for a few moments, looking up at the canopy, like waking up from a dream. Which reality was real? The one where she needed to get up and use the bathroom, or the one where she wet her diaper? So many realities in diapers... so many realities without them... which one was real…? But as it often is with dreams, Ai started to find her footing in one reality. The reality where she was lying between a man and a woman who had taken her in and made her their baby. The reality where she had somewhere to be, somewhere she belonged. And it wasn't here. There was a window in the bedroom, and outside the sky was growing brighter. Black changed to a deep, deep, deep blue. Sunrise was coming. Ai was running out of time. But when she tried to get up, her mittens jingled and the queen beside her stirred in bed. She had to silence the bells, but she didn't have her hands. What did she have? Her feet? Her mouth? Teeth? Maybe... Ai wrapped her lips around one of the little metal bells, like she had with Mommy's nipple the night before. She closed her lips around the bell and bit at the stitching. It took a while, but it finally popped off the mitten with a muffled jingle. Ai tucked it into her cheek and started gnawing at the next one. When Ai was done, she had four bells in her mouth. She was too scared to spit them out, in case they made any kind of noise. Then, with more care than she had ever put into anything in her life, Ai slinked her way to the end of the bed. Finally free of the king and queen, she tip-toed over to the corner where her backpack was strapped to a chair. Ai tried pulling the straps up, to sling the bag over her shoulder, but it caught on the heavy wooden chair. She tried once before, wiggling the bag a little, but no luck. Finally, she noticed that one of the straps had been woven through the wood slats. Intentionally. Fuck. Quietly, Ai slid to the floor and fumbled with the clasp on her bag. It was such an easy thing to latch and unlatch, but the mittens made it impossible. And she couldn't gnaw the strap off without spilling the bells all over the stone floor. The sky outside was red and pink, welcoming the coming day, and Ai was no closer to getting her backpack. Then something squeaked loudly behind her. Ai nearly screamed, but she had been holding her mouth closed tightly for the better part of the hour. She turned and saw the king roll onto his side, so that he was staring right at her. If his eyes had been open. The memory of the spanking from a few days before ran through Ai's head, and her heart started to race. If he saw her, if he caught her like this... not only would she never have another chance to escape, but she would go over Daddy's lap again. She would rather die. Honestly, truly, she would rather die. Ai gave her backpack one last glance. All the gifts from her friends, all the things she loved... Ai made one of the hardest decisions of her life, and got to her feet. She had to leave. But as luck would have it, on her way out of the room, she saw the compass on the dresser by the door. Even with her hands in mittens, she was able to scoop it up with both hands and squeeze her way out of the room. In the doorframe, Ai glanced back at the bed, at her sleeping 'parents'. The first parents she'd ever had. They were awful. But that feeling in her heart when she saw the queen's sleeping face… Sometimes love just doesn't make any sense. Ai raced down the stairs. Through hallways she hadn't memorized. She hugged the walls of open rooms and didn't bother with any door that had a handle. Thankfully, in defiance of security, most of them were pull-rings without latches or empty archways. Finally, Ai found her way to the drawbridge. She thought for sure Rupert would be waiting to catch her, but the bridge was empty. She walked the center of the drawbridge, to avoid any water nymphs, and hurried into the woods. The first thing she did was spit out the bells. They jingled to the forest floor, but the tinny sound was so much quieter in the outdoors. Then she bit and tore at the mittens with her teeth, but the fabric was a much higher quality than the bell thread. That was the first time Ai really thought about what she was wearing. A diaper, a nightie, and locking pink mittens. And she had abandoned all of her other clothes. She was really kicking herself for that one. But right now she had bigger problems than her outfit. She fumbled with the compass and, with a combination of her mittened hands and her teeth, managed to get it open. It pointed to the left of the castle, so she went right. That early morning walk through the forest was the most scared Ai had ever been. The trees seemed to lean in and grab at her, leaves flitting off the branches like an early winter storm. The wind pushed against her, causing her to stumble and fall into the dirt and grass. The thick diaper between her legs made it difficult to run, and every rustling bush or snapped twig made her jump. By the time Ai came to the edge of the wood, she could hardly breathe. She looked up at the steep hill in front of her and checked the compass one more time. This was it. "Ice and Claire!" The voice was faint, in the distance. But even the sound of Rupert's voice was enough to trigger Ai's panic. She scurried toward the hill and tried to run up the side of it. Halfway there, she put the compass between her teeth and ran up on all fours. When she reached the top, she didn't look back. She ran headlong into the shimmering wall and the countryside vanished. Suddenly, Ai was on the landing of a staircase. Inside. In a building? She had only appeared inside a building once or twice before. Behind her, there was no shimmering veil, but a solid wall. She reached out to touch it, but Ai stopped herself. She didn't want to risk going back. Ai slunk down to the floor and tried to catch her breath. The ground was wood. Nice wood. On one side, a staircase went up and a staircase went down. And the stairs were wide - this wasn't someone's house. A public building? Ai's panic wasn't subsiding. The new place didn't feel safe, and she was still dressed in her silly baby girl outfit. So she got to her feet and decided to go down instead of up. At the bottom of the staircase was a vending machine, filled with brands Ai didn't recognize. Even the currency cards weren't familiar to her. She poked her head out into the hall, and Ai knew immediately where she was. A school. On one side of the hall, there were classroom doors. On the other, a series of windows spanning the entire wall. Outside was a field, with soccer nets and a running track. By the look of it, Ai was on the second floor. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Ai saw someone open a door. She quickly ducked into the stairwell, behind the vending machine. She heard the tapping of shoes, but they faded away. "I'm scaring myself," Ai said aloud to herself. "This is a new bubble... there's nothing to be afraid of." Ai looked down at the compass in her mittened hands. She had been clutching it tightly. "But just in case..." Ai leaned down and set the compass on the ground. It was the last thing she owned, and arguably the most important. She wanted to keep it safe. So she gently pushed it under the vending machine for safe keeping. "Now to find a way out of these clothes…" Ai was halfway down the hall when she heard a voice behind her: a young man's voice. She turned around and tried to decide if running or hiding was the better option, but the logical part of her brain reminded her that this was a different place. A safe place, hopefully. The man in question was about Ai's age, or maybe a little older. He had short cropped hair, dyed in different rainbow hues, and lots of earrings that matched his lip and nose piercings. He was also a little shorter than Ai, which was not a very common trait others had. When he caught up with Ai, he said: "Well, who let you out? You shouldn't be out in the hall without an escort." When Ai didn't know what to say to that, he asked: "What's your name? I'm West." "Uh... Ai," Ai answered, blushing a bit. The way he looked her up and down... she unconsciously tried to tug down the nightgown, but the mittens didn't let her. The best thing she could do at that moment was explain herself. "I'm not from here, as you can probably tell," Ai tried to laugh, but her embarrassment got the best of her. "The bubble I came from, they dressed me like this... I barely got away. Do you think you could help me find something to wear?" The man tilted his head as he listened to Ai's plight, like he was trying to puzzle her out. It made Ai nervous. But in the end, he nodded and smiled. "Oh totes, absolutely, for sure. I know where we can get you changed. Come on." West confidently took Ai by the hand - well, by the mitten - and led her down the hall. "Here we go, boo," he said, stopping in front of one of the doors. He turned the doorknob with his free hand and half-pushed Ai inside. She stumbled into the room, but it wasn't wasn't a changing room or a closet or a wardrobe or anything. It was a classroom. Or, at first glance, it was a classroom. There were rows of desks, occupied by a dozen or so students. They all wore matching uniforms, regardless of gender, with button up blouses and short plaid skirts. At the front of the room was a heavy desk and an older woman with thin glasses and her hair in a bun. But on second glance, each of the students was seated in a very specific way. Their hands were bound in front of them and tied to a hard point on the desk. Their ankles were spread wide apart and buckled to the legs of the desk. And under every skirt, on full display, was a diaper. Ai felt a heavy sinking feeling and turned to rush out, but the man who led her there shut the door with a smile and stood in her way. She turned back to the class; all eyes were on her. "I... I think there's been a mistake..." Ai tried to explain in a panic. "Oh, there's certainly been a mistake!" West agreed, still smiling. "Walking around the halls all alone, without supervision? Tsk tsk. But I'm sure Ms. Lady will help you behave." Ai didn't know what to say to that. The bizarre circumstances of her situation were too difficult to wrap her head around. "Go on, don't be shy," West said. "Introduce yourself to Ms. Lady and the students." One of the students stifled a laugh, then gave up trying to hide it all together. She bursted out with the words: "Your diaper is so thick that it's got its own zip code!" Ai didn't know what a zip code was, but she knew how obvious her diaper was to the classroom of strangers. But before Ai could explain herself, the woman at the front of the class - Ms. Lady - strode down the center aisle toward the disobedient student. Ms. Lady seemed to produce a ruler out of nowhere, which came down sharply on the top of the student's thigh, just below the hem of her skirt. The student let out a whimper and leaned over the desk. "What was that, Rin?" the teacher asked sharply. Even her tone made Ai's blood run cold. "Nothing, Ms. Lady," Rin muttered, twisting a little in her chair. Ms. Lady didn't return to the front of the room, however. She laced her hand in Rin's curly hair and held her tight and upright. Then, she gestured to Ai with the ruler. "Go on." Ai was frozen for a moment. The suddenness of it all... it reminded her of the spanking that Daddy - er, the King, Ai corrected herself - gave her. And all the students were wearing diapers, and... "I... I'm in the wrong place," Ai tried explaining again. "Um, I'm not from this bubble... I just got here and—" "Then why are you dressed like that?" one of the boys asked, smirking like he'd just trapped Ai in a legal argument. "That's... the last bubble I was in, this king and queen, um..." "Put you in a diaper?" someone else asked. "Put your hands in mittens?" another student spoke up. "Yes!" Ai said a little too loudly. Defending herself was overwhelming when she had to do it in front of a dozen people. "Yeah, Ms. Lady," Rin said, craning her neck to look up at the woman holding her hair. "That's what happened with me too! I don't know how I got here, but I just want to go home!" "Well you know what you have to do to leave, don't you, Rin?" "Yes, Ms. Lady," Rin said quietly, the teasing tone fading from her voice. "But you won't do it, will you, Rin?" "No, Ms. Lady." Rin muttered, a bit of color on her cheeks. "So maybe you want to be here. Maybe you want to be dressed in a diaper. Maybe you want to be trained to be a good little girl." Rin didn't say anything else, and the teacher knew she had won. She turned her attention back to Ai. "There is a seat in front," she said. "Sit your padded butt down there and I'll be there in a moment." Ai had absolutely no idea what was going on. That other student kept undermining her, and none of the class seemed to believe her. So Ai took a step toward the teacher instead - Ms. Lady - and tried to keep her cool. "Listen, if we could just talk about this..." "Good girls don't talk out of turn," Ms. Lady declared. Ai found that to be a rather unfair rule, but it was followed with: "Unless you're a bad girl. Then I'll have to discipline you in front of the class. Is that what you want?" Ai hesitated. The threat of discipline had a whole new meaning to Ai, and she knew that she had to work within the customs of the bubble. But it was just too serendipitous, too on the nose. After everything that happened in the King's Kingdom, and now this... Ai took a deep breath and decided to play smart. So she went over to the chair where she was instructed and took a seat. When she did, the buckles around her ankles latched onto her and spread her legs apart. Then, like magic, the rope on the desk unfurled, bound Ai's wrists, and pulled them tight to the tabletop. "Of course," Ai muttered under her breath. Most of the bubbles had magic of some kind, but the animated object stuff was some of the most annoying. She had lost count of the amount of magical ropes that had restrained her in the past, for one reason or another, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. Just like that, Ai was one of the students in the weird classroom. The only difference was her outfit: a pink nightie, instead of a school uniform, and her hands were still in mittens. Arguably, her outfit was even worse than the uniform. Ms. Lady turned to the chalkboard and wrote something on the board: a series of letters and numbers. Then Ms. Lady turned to the class and tapped her crop on the desk. "You all should be able to solve this math problem. Who is going to try?" No one raised their hands - in part because no one could - so Ms. Lady pointed the crop at one of the students. "Henry," she said. The boy looked nervously at the chalkboard and down at his desk. Even if he knew how to reason through the problem, his hands were bound; he would have to do all the arithmetic in his mind. "It's unsolvable, Ms. Lady," Henry guessed. "Is it, Henry?" "Yeah, uh huh." Henry seemed adamant in his lack of answer, and his confidence seemed to grow with each passing second. He even pulled on the ropes a little, trying to sit up straighter than before. "You're just giving us stupid questions to trick us!" he said, which elicited a few murmurs from the students around the room. Ms. Lady slid the drawer open from her desk in a threatening manner, and pulled out a marker. The whole room fell deadly silent, including Ai. She could feel her body tense up and her heart pound as the teacher walked over to Henry with the marker in hand. "Um... I'm sorry, I'll be good. I swear, I'll be good," Henry tried, leaning back in his seat, trying to pull away from the desk. "Maybe numbers are just too hard for you," Ms. Lady teased. "Is that it? The little boy who still wears diapers to school doesn't know his numbers?" "No, I do, I... I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Henry tugged harder on the table and Ms. Lady uncapped the marker. The tip was... felt, like an ordinary marker. Ai didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't that. Suddenly, her anxiety felt a little silly. "I think numbers are just too grown up for you, Henry. Maybe you should be demoted back to daycare, what do you think?" Henry shook his head, and he actually had tears forming in his eyes. Everyone else was silent as Ms. Lady took the marker and leaned down to draw on his desk. Ai leaned up to see... a simple number sign. It was actually kind of anticlimactic. But Henry's tear-filled eyes glossed over. A few tears dripped down his cheeks, then he shook his head in disbelief. "I'll give you another chance," Ms. Lady said, returning to the front of the room. This time she put a number on the board: 4. "Tell me what number this is and I won't kick you back to daycare." All eyes were on Henry now, as he looked at the board. He blushed a little and bit his lip. The tension in the room was heavy. "Um... eighty...?" Henry tried, and it was clear that he truly did try. A collective sigh erupted through the classroom and Henry looked a little panicked. "West, could you please take Henry back to daycare?" Ms. Lady asked. "Yes Ms. Lady, gladly." Ai watched with a mixture of confusion, anxiety, bewilderment, and paranoia as West approached Henry's desk. With the snap of his fingers, the ropes came undone and he helped Henry to his feet. On the way down the aisle, West patted Henry on the butt - which crinkled loudly - before saying to the class: "Say goodbye to Henry. Next time you see him, he'll be a little mushy-bottomed toe sucker." That made Henry really start to cry. But West closed the door behind him and the classroom was quiet again. Ms. Lady waited for the dread to sink in, then tapped the board one more time. "Ai, solve this," she said, pointing to the original problem. Ai felt the floor drop out from under her. "I'm not really good at math..." Ai muttered. She debated bringing up her explanation once again - that she wasn't from here - but it felt like a dangerous move. "Maybe you could ask someone else?" "I'm asking you, Ai," Ms. Lady repeated. "Are you telling me that you don't know numbers either? Just like Henry?" She still had the marker in her hand. "No, I do! Um. I know my numbers. I'm just... I don't know the problem that well, and, well... I never actually went to school. I mean, I did, for a semester. At, um. A cooking school? I'm still not great at cooking. But, uh... math, uh..." "So you've never learned a bit of math?" Ms. Lady sighed. "Well math is different in different bubbles..." Ai tried to explain, but the truth was exactly as Ms. Lady said. The more immutable facts at Ai's disposal, the more complicated her travels became. It was like holding onto trinkets, each weighing her down a little more than before. Truth was so subjective, and any presumptions she took with her were dangerous. Ai had learned the hard way that nothing was universal. "Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't move you to one of the younger classes, so you can learn math?" Ai didn't really have an answer to that, but she did have an opportunity that sprung to mind. "Well, um, if you'd just listen… I'm not from here, so none of this makes any sense to me. I'm not supposed to be in any classroom." "I do not tolerate bratty girls," Ms. Lady said flatly. She took two steps toward Ai's desk, which was all she needed. She uncapped the marker and drew a number sign on the desk. Ai panicked and pulled at her restraints, the same way Henry did, but she didn't cry. She didn't understand the consequences of any of this. Ms. Lady went to the board and wrote a new number. She tapped it with the marker, but Ai was looking down at her desk. The number sign the teacher had written was beginning to fizzle at the edges, like soda pop. Henry's hadn't done that. Ms. Lady had to tap the board once more with the marker to get Ai's attention. "Final chance," Ms. Lady said. "If you can't tell me what number this is, you're going back to kindergarten." "Ten?" Ai guessed, seeing a one and a zero on the board. Hopefully that was ten in this bubble. Then she glanced back down at the desk, but the number sign had all but faded away. Tiny specs of black ink shivered and disappeared. "That's..." Ms. Lady looked at the board, then at Ai, and nodded her head. "That's correct," she said, a little confused. But even someone who didn't know their numbers could have guessed at random. The chances were slim, but it was possible. Ms. Lady decided to let Ai have her win. "Perhaps I underestimated you," Ms. Lady said warmly. "Let's talk after class about where you belong." "Yes ma'am," Ai said brightly. Finally, someone willing to listen to her! "Just be good and quiet until then," Ms. Lady said with a little more assertiveness, and Ai nodded. Class went on. It ranged from incredibly mundane to weirdly abusive. Rin got four more swats with that ruler in ten minutes, and one of the boys had to write lines with his hands tied. As for Ai, she was contending with her own problem. She really had to pee. She woke up that morning needing to use the bathroom, and then she had to escape. She still had her mittens on, and finding a bathroom was the least of her troubles. But sitting there in class, she couldn't stop thinking about it. The pressure in her bladder. The way she squirmed in her diaper. The ache, the need to let go... Ai looked up at the clock. It was only eight minutes until the end of the hour. Most bubbles had the same timekeeping methods. Maybe class would end then; that seemed reasonable. But every time Ai checked the clock, it was still eight minutes until the end of the hour. She even counted the seconds in her head, but she lost track around thirty. Sure enough, the clock hadn't moved. Meanwhile, the feeling of desperation in Ai was only building. Her squirming became active wiggling, and she couldn't sit still for more than a second. She knew she was in a diaper, but she didn't want to wet it! That felt like she was just giving the queen what she wanted. But Ai was feeling something else, as well. Along with the rising desperation, the ache in her bladder, the discomfort... Ai felt twangs of excitement. Of curiosity. Of panic, but in a good way? Could panic be a good thing? She couldn't seem to sort out this particular feeling. So, when she was at the end of her patience, she interrupted Ms. Lady mid-sentence. "Excuse me. Um. Is class almost over?" "Class is over when I say it's over," Ms. Lady said with a touch of annoyance. Perhaps that was why the clock wasn't moving? Was that how it worked here? A contest between the inexorable march of time and the teacher's sense of authority? Time didn't seem to march at all; it meandered, milled about, putzed around. Class wouldn't end until Ms. Lady said it would. Ai couldn't even cross her legs, because they were forced apart by the restraints and by the diaper. Her bladder ached and strained to hold it in. All the while, her cheeks continued to redden. She waited for as long as she could, but waiting wasn't working. She interrupted Ms. Lady again, but her desperation was peaking and her words were a little breathless. "Excuse me, could... could I please use the restroom?" This got a few head turns from the other students. Rin mumbled under her breath, a seat behind and to the right of Ai: "What a bottom." Ai didn't know what a bottom was, but her indignation boiled up all the same. Rin had been nothing but an annoyance since Ai got to the classroom, and her commentary was not welcome. But her opinion didn't matter anyway; it was Ms. Lady she needed to convince. "Why would a diaper brat use the restroom, Ai?" Ms. Lady asked simply. That caught Ai off guard. What the hell did diaper brat mean? And why did Ms. Lady think Ai was one of them? "I'm not a... that," Ai tried to argue. "I am trying to tell you, I don't belong here!" But as Ai's desperation increased, so too did the volume of her voice. She couldn't get into a debate right now! "You're in a diaper," Ms. Lasso argued, without Ai's reservations about a debate. "You're acting like a brat, interrupting class with your silly fantasies of using the restroom." "That's—" But this time it was Ms. Lady's turn to cut off Ai in the middle of a sentence. "You're in diapers because you belong in diapers. Now be quiet and stop causing such a fuss." "I'm not... I don't belong in diapers!" Ai's patience was too thin to shut her up, and she couldn't stop wiggling in her chair. She tugged on the rope around her wrists. "Just, listen! I'm trying to tell you!" "Clearly you need to be the center of attention," Ms. Lady said dismissively. "Class, everyone pay attention to our new student so we can get on with the lesson." The entire class turned their heads to stare at Ai, and nobody said anything. Every single student, even Rin. Ai caught each of their glances, one by one, until she got back to Ms. Lady. Her arms were crossed, like she was bored. "No, that's not…" Ai's voice was the only sound in the silence. All eyes were on her as she struggled to keep her diaper dry. She looked down at her desk, to pretend it wasn't happening, but she could feel them all watching her. "Please...! Please, please, please..." Ai begged and pleaded, struggling in her chair. Every second or two, pressure would threaten to break through her lifetime of potty training. And every second or two, she would just barely fend it off. Until she didn't. Until it felt like she was just frozen on the brink. And a second later, it pushed her over. Ai let out a deep exhale as she flooded her diaper. A steady stream of relief. Heat between her legs. Soft, squishy padding, absorbing and expanding, forcing her thighs further apart. She couldn't stop wetting herself. She didn't even want to.

Chapter Three Ai was still trembling, even fifteen minutes after the spanking was over. The queen had taken her by the hand and led her down the halls of the empty castle. She was talking about something, but Ai was struggling to focus. Her body was alight with adrenaline, but she was tired at the same time. "Now, Ice and Claire, it's not proper for the king's justice to be suspended, so we certainly need a reason for it, otherwise you'll be right back on his lap before you know it. You're such a small little thing, though… I think we can come up with something." Ai nodded. She didn't know what she was agreeing to, but anything was better than getting spanked like that again. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life, and nothing had hurt her quite so badly. Sure, she'd had a few concussions. She broke her leg once, and two of her fingers. But there was something about that spanking that made all that seem like gentle bruising. Perhaps that was just the way spankings felt, or perhaps the king himself had something to do with it. The queen led Ai up the stairs of a tower and into the room at the top. There was a bed with curtains above and around it. There was some white furniture that really seemed to bring out the brightness of the grey stone walls. But most importantly, there was a balcony. It overlooked the forest, but not the way she had come. That's when Ai realized she didn't have her backpack. Or her compass. "Your Majesty, could I please—" "Ah, ah," the queen interrupted. "You know better than to call me that." Ai had to pause to remember what it was the queen was talking about. The spanking and the conversation that followed were nothing but a blurry memory to her. When Ai finally pieced it together, a blush came over her cheeks. "Um... Mommy..." Ai muttered. She had never called anyone that before, not once in her life. She knew what a Mommy was; she'd seen it enough times. The parent to a child. Specifically a woman, and specifically a very young child. A child with no autonomy, who relied on the parent for every little thing. Ai felt embarrassed, having put herself in that category. But there were more pressing concerns. "Could I please have my backpack?" Ai asked. "When you're done with your discipline, you can have your belongings back," the queen said simply, and Ai knew there wasn't room to argue. "Let's get you dressed, Ice and Claire," the queen said, motioning to the bed. "It's inappropriate for you to be wearing clothes you picked out." "My clothes are in my backpack," Ai argued, but the queen didn't seem deterred at all. She went over to a wardrobe in the corner and Ai sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn't go through all those spankings again, so she had to figure out a way to get her backpack back. Maybe it was still in the throne room. The queen turned around with a puffy pink dress in her hands, the kind of dress Ai had only ever seen on little girls in fancy houses. And, well, the castle was kind of a fancy house. But Ai wasn't a little girl. "I don't really like dresses," Ai tried to tell the queen. "Dresses are easy access for the king and me, Ice and Claire. And that's important, because you may need to be checked on." Easy access as a term sent a shiver up Ai's spine. Why did they need access to anything under her skirt? The only thing that came to mind was more of those spankings... was the dress a reminder to behave? With a reluctant sigh, Ai reached for the dress. "Oh, no no," the queen said sweetly. "I'll get you dressed. I'm your Mommy, after all, aren't I?" Ai didn't answer, but that was answer enough. The taller woman stripped off Ai's shirt and pants, leaving her in nothing but her wet underwear. Ai blushed, looking down at her feet and covering her bare chest with her arms. "These too," the queen said, pulling down Ai's panties. Ai reached to grab them, but the queen slapped her hands away. "Please, I can change myself..." "Nonsense," the queen said simply. Then she unfolded a pair of underwear that Ai didn't recognize, not at first. They weren't made of the same kind of material of any panties Ai had ever seen. But when the woman prompted her to step into them, she realized why. They were the same kind that little kids wore when they were potty training. "Wait, hold on. Why do I have to wear those training pants?" Ai asked incredulously. "Well, you got your other panties all wet," the queen said simply. "Well, yeah, but... you don't think I wet those, do you? That awful forest nymph threw me in the river!" Ai was blushing furiously. "Then you'll be able to keep your pull-ups dry," the queen countered. "Pull-ups?" Another name for the training pants, no doubt. Ai shook her head. "Absolutely not! You have the wrong idea!" "If you won't do as you're told," the queen said coldly, "you can go over Daddy's lap instead." Ai froze. Her heart rate doubled and panic zipped up her spine. The fact that the woman had referred to the king as her Daddy was just another straw on the camel's back for Ai Sinclair, but fear gripped her like a noose. She was too scared to even breathe, for just a moment, and stars appeared at the edges of her vision. "What will it be, Ice and Claire?" the queen asked. Ai looked down at her feet shyly and stepped into the training pants. *** Over the next few days, things only got worse for Ai Sinclair. The queen had an endless supply of little girl dresses, and she did everything from feeding Ai to giving her a bath. She would give Ai cups with lids full of milk, and the milk would make Ai's thoughts fuzzy for a few hours. But the worst part was, the queen seemed intent on getting Ai to have an accident. At first, it was just a lot of water and milk, so much that it was an inconvenience. Ai had to get up every hour to use the bathroom. Then the queen would plan walks around the garden, and try to keep Ai out for long periods of time. Then the queen started locking the bathroom door, so that Ai had to ask permission. But through all the trials, Ai always managed to keep her pull-up dry. Whenever Ai had any free time, she searched for her backpack. It wasn't in the throne room, and the castle was massive. Finally, the queen let it slip that it had been put in the royal bedroom for safekeeping, but the door was always locked. Objectively, Ai could always ask Daddy for the rest of her spankings. But she had seventeen sets of ten remaining, and any time she even thought about it she would panic. As much as Ai hated it, the reasonable way out wasn't a viable one. She had to find another way, and it came in the form of a silver lining. Of all of Queen Errata's inexplicable behaviors, Ai hated one more than the rest: though the queen would talk constantly to Ai, she never once listened. Even if Ai tried to engage in the conversation, she was dismissed or actively ignored. It reminded Ai of how a child talks to a doll or a cat. But it was from one of these soliloquies that Ai got an idea. "I don't see why you insist on keeping up this big girl act," the queen sighed, after yet another trip to the bathroom. "There are a lot of perks that only a little girl can get." Ai ruminated all day on what the queen meant by that, and if maybe one of those perks could get her closer to her backpack. That night, before the queen got Ai ready for bed, Ai tugged on her dress as cutely as possible and played her hand. "Mommy..." she said shyly. "Um, I was thinking about what you were saying. And at night, I get kind of scared all alone in here..." "Oh?" The queen didn't take Ai for a woman that was afraid of the dark. But the queen truly did see Ai as a little girl. "You said little girls get perks, so, um... if I were a little girl, would I be able to sleep with you and Daddy?" The queen's eyes lit up and she enthusiastically nodded her head. This lasted only a moment before she regained her composure. "Absolutely, Ice and Claire. Little girls get to sleep with Mommy and Daddy. Of course... a little girl must be properly dressed for bed, as not to have any night time accidents in the royal bed. And your pull-ups are certainly not sufficient." Ai knew part of this plan would involve a few embarrassing concessions, but she wasn't entirely sure what that looked like. The queen wanted to treat Ai like a little girl, to make Ai reliant on her, and Ai was determined to do her best to prove otherwise. What would happen when she gave up? "Yes, Mommy..." Ai muttered shyly. "Whatever you think is best..." Those magic words were far more potent than manners; those were the words that the queen wanted taught to all royal charges. She smiled blissfully, because she was getting everything she wanted. But there was mischief in her eyes. "Up on the bed," she said. Ai sighed and went over to the bed, sitting on the edge. Her feet barely touched the ground, and the bed was bigger than ones she was used to. This whole world made her feel a little smaller than the others, or maybe it was the constant doting from the queen. The queen went to an ever-present dresser on the far side of the room. When she returned, the queen set down some stuff on the bed beside Ai: a square of folded plastic and a pair of pink fluffy ovals covered in bells. Ai recognized the diaper at first glance. She had never seen one that big, and it didn't really look anything like the others she had seen for actual babies, but she just knew. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and an indescribable anxiety filled the space. The other things, though… Ai searched through the mental catalogue she had accumulated over her travels, but the results came back empty. She looked nervously up at Mommy for answers. "Queen Mommy and King Daddy are sound sleepers, and we like to sleep in. So a nighttime diaper is a must for my little Princess-to-Be, and some mittens for your hands to keep you from fidgeting." Ai didn't know what mittens were, but it seemed like they were meant to keep her from using her fingers. But then how was she supposed to get her backpack? Ai felt like the ground was falling out beneath her feet. She had to do something. "But I'm... I don't need those, um... I don't fidget, really. I won't touch anything, I swear." And anyway, how were bells supposed to help her stop fidgeting? Ai felt like she was missing something crucial to winning her argument, but challenging the queen felt too dangerous. "Well, just as Daddy doesn't make alliances with kingdoms he hasn't visited, we can't have you sleeping in the royal bed without proving that you won't be a problem. Doesn't that make sense, Ice and Claire? Now, lay down upon the bed, sweet girl." "But... I, swear, I'm—" "Unless you'd rather sleep alone in the dark?" the queen offered. Ai hesitated. She was giving up the only card she had, giving the queen everything she wanted, and there was a good chance she wouldn't be able to get what she needed out of it. But if she went back on her deal, it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, she'd have an accident and the queen would get her way anyway. So, with a defeated sigh, Ai laid back on the bed and looked up at the canopy. "That's very royal behavior." Which was, Ai supposed, the highest compliment that her Mommy could pay her. As Ai pondered her next move, her Mommy stripped her of the pull-up and lifted her legs. She unfolded the diaper and slid it beneath Ai's bare bottom before pulling it up between her thighs. "You're never going to have to worry about accidents again, my little girl. And there are so many perks," the Queen cooed. Ai was only half listening, if at all. It was the first time Ai could remember anyone putting her in a diaper, and it felt so routine. The familiarity was dizzying, like a book she had read a thousand times. Not a single word was new, not a single piece of punctuation was surprising. And all the same, Ai's cheeks were red with embarrassment as her Mommy taped the diaper around her hips. When it was over, when the queen pulled Ai to her feet, the familiarity vanished, but the embarrassment did not. The thickness between her legs was nothing like the pull-up, and Ai worried she wouldn't even be able to walk. She tried to act like none of this was bothering her, but Ai looked up at Mommy with such shyness. "You'll get used to it, Ice and Claire, and you'll soon wonder how you were ever not a little girl. Now hold up your hand, like this." The queen held out her hand to demonstrate, and waited for Ai to do the same. Then she fetched the first of the two jingly mittens. Ai watched carefully as her Mommy put the mitten on. Two bells, one on each side. An elastic part around the wrist. Mommy slid the fabric over Ai's hand and pulled a strap around the elastic, which clicked shut with a press. Like a lock, but there was no place for a key. Then she did the same with the other hand. Ai tried to ball her hand into a fist, to warp her wrist a little to get as much leverage as she could, but the tall woman flattened her hand inside the mitten and tightened it all the same. Ai reached over with one mitten to pull the other off, but she couldn't get a good grip. The inside was lined with some kind of padding, and the bells jingled with each of Ai's movements. "Sleeping girls don't need their hands, so this shouldn't be any problem at all for you, should it?" the queen asked, but it was a rhetorical question. "Don't fret and fuss, Ice and Claire. Just like your diapers, you'll get used to them." The queen stripped Ai of her dress and pulled a nightie over her head. Without the use of her hands, with her thighs spread apart, and with the height difference between her and her caregiver, Ai realized exactly how helpless she was. Then the queen picked her up and set her on her hip like Ai didn't weigh anything at all. The front of her diaper pressed into her Mommy's side and all Ai's plans of rebellion began to dissolve like sugar in water. The queen carried her charge from the little girl's bedroom, down the hall, up three flights of stairs - each more grand than the one before it - and finally into the royal bedroom. The king was already waiting inside, and seemed to already know what was going on. "Well, I was wondering when you would arrive, my dears. Ice and Claire, you do look positively exhausted and ready for sleep. Doesn't she, dear?" "She does," Mommy agreed, as she walked to the large bed in the center of the room. But she didn't set Ai down on the bed. Instead, she took a seat and put Ai on her lap, on her padded bottom. Her mittens jingled as she tried to hold onto her Mommy's clothes. "Now, my darling," Mommy whispered in Ai's ear. "You truly want to be my little girl? Are you absolutely sure?" Ai looked up at her with burning red cheeks. She certainly did not want that! But then she caught sight of her backpack in the corner. It was wrapped around a chair, only a few feet from the bed... With a deep breath, Ai nodded her head. "Yes, Mommy..." "Then you'll need to go to bed with a full tummy, so you wake up with a full diaper. That's appropriate for a girl your age I would say." One hand held Ai in place, like she was simply stabilizing an infant in her lap, as the other did something Ai didn't expect: it unbuttoned the top clasps of her dress. It wasn't until Mommy's bare breast was pulled from her bodice that Ai realized what was happening. A panic welled up in her so quickly that she couldn't stop it. "No, no way!" Mommy gave her a look of curiosity and Daddy crossed his arms sternly. Ai quickly backpedaled. "I... I mean... that's... a bit too far, isn't it? That's..." That was something Ai had seen done only a few times in her entire life, always by women with newborns. Every time, it made Ai blush and she had to excuse herself from the room, though her response was always quite disproportionate to the situation. "If you're to be of royal blood, then you must drink royal milk," Daddy explained, keeping his composure. "This is a divine privilege, Ice and Claire. Not many people are offered this, and many would die for it. You should be more grateful." "R-right, but... I just..." "If you'd rather finish your spankings, you can go on your way," the queen said coldly, and ice ran through Ai's blood. "N-no..." Ai was stuck between a breast and a hard spank. She tried to think of a way out of it - of any way out of it! - but time was up. Mommy cradled Ai in her arms and put Ai's lips to her chest. With a tight pull on her hair, Ai opened her mouth and latched onto Mommy's nipple. The humiliation was unbearable, but it didn't last long. Warm, sweet milk dribbled into Ai's mouth and she felt fuzzy and warm all over. Mommy's heartbeat was deep in her ear, echoing through her brain. And suddenly, all of Ai's problems melted away. It was the first time since meeting Queen Errata that she and Ai connected on something. It was spiritual and intangible. It was magic. And Ai felt things she had never felt for her Mommy: patience, curiosity, empathy… In this new light, Ai wondered if maybe the queen was doing all this for some other reason than to torture her. That maybe Ai didn't find where she belonged in the King's Kingdom, but her Mommy found where she belonged in Ai Sinclair. That maybe, since Ai hadn't yet found her own happy ending, she could be someone else's instead. It could have lasted a single minute or an eternity. Eventually Ai was removed from the queen's breast, but the feelings didn't go away. Her eyes were glossy, and as her Mommy spoke to her, Ai agreed absentmindedly. "You're a good baby girl, aren't you?" Nod. "You are so happy to be in diapers, aren't you?" Nod. "You never want to grow up again, isn't that right?" Nod. "You'll live as my baby girl, and you'll feel like this forever. Doesn't that sound wonderful?" Nod. "Say it." "Wonderful... to be your baby... forever..." Ai's voice was slurred, unable to put in enough effort to form the words correctly. Why would she need words? She was just a little baby. Ai was tucked into bed, flanked by Mommy and Daddy. Her diaper was soft between her legs, and her head was sticky with thoughts of the rest of her life. A happy, blissful life with Mommy and Daddy. Maybe this was where she always belonged after all.