Baby Talk

Fascinating. I didn't realize you could write stories that way. I checked your link and saw the progress, very interesting.

7   "Look, mom, Look!" "I'm busy Liam" "But look mom, look!, he's really getting it! She turned her head and looked "look, mom!....................LOOKOUT! Jenny rudely tore out of sleep, sweating heavily, looking disoriented around her dark bedroom. Panting, she looked at the clock next on her bed-stand. To early to get up. Sighing she let her head fall back on her cushion, sleep didn't come easy the rest of the night. ------------------ Jake woke early. The house was still silent and he couldn't detect any smells from the kitchen yet. He tried dozing some more in the nice feeling warm bed but got quickly bored. Stepping out of bed he doubted what to do. Should he take his diaper off himself or did he had to wait for Mrs. Miller. She might not like that. Deciding that he should wait a little longer he started exploring the room, hadn't had a change to do that! He walked over to the dresser first. The sagging diaper between his legs caused him to waddle a little and the pants rustled with with a swooshing sound every move.. Opening the drawers one by one he discovered heaps of neatly folded diapers, Pins which he opened and closed, finding out how the locking thing worked. He opened the jar of cream which Mrs. Miller had smeared between his buttocks, could feel it still!, and smelled at it. Next he discovered lot's of plastic pants. Some plain white as he was wearing but also lots with prints, cars and animals, in cheerful colors. The bottom drawers delivered two stacks of clothes. One with pajamas that, as he took one out was one piece, top and bottom with feet together with a zipper, again with colorful designs of rockets this time. The other was a stack of what seemed t-shirts, but they were longer and had buttons on the bottom rim which could be clicked together. In the middle. Putting everything back he turned his attention to the chest. Lot's of soft plaything's and animals but it seemed it was all meant for a child younger than himself. Nothing like the building stuff he had his hands on yesterday. The books! Jake liked to read and, picking one from the stack on the desk, flopped on his belly on the bed again to lose himself in the words, until he heard the door open and Mrs. Miller greeted, washed and clothed him, just like yesterday. ------------------- "Jake, almost time for lunch, young man, let's see how you're doing." Miss Marianne, as he was told he could call her, shoved a chair next to where he was sitting at a desk in one of the corners of the large central room of the daycare. Jake showed her the writing, math and history assignments he worked on this morning. He had been able to concentrate on the work far better than normally at school, despite the constant noise and chatter in the room and the occasional toddler who came up at his desk to show a toy, only to be ushered quickly away by one of the staff telling him or her to leave him to his studies. Miss Marianne inspected his work meticulously. "Well, that looks very good. You're even getting a bit ahead of schedule, I see. Proud?" Jake admitted to himself he was feeling just that and nodded. "Nobody's nagging me here miss Marianne, I think that's why." The school he normally went to was nice enough, but a bit rowdy, and he was picked on more than others, standing out because of his reddish hair and living at a children's home. He also missed schooldays more than others. The home's staff sometimes called him in "sick" to let him recover from bruises on his arms, back or legs. Strange as it may seem, he never told anyone about it because after all, the home was his home, were could he go? In the years he got used to it and learned to keep his silence. "OK, lets clear up and join the table for lunch." Jake got the assignment of making sure the little boy beside him was properly using his fork and cup and cut his bread for him. He enjoying it. He missed playing with other kids his age but all in all, it felt good. When he visited the bathroom he walked straight in to another staff-member changing one of the older toddlers. Toileting, potty training and diaper changing were rather public and normal events happening in the daycare of course but the sight of her pulling the little kid's pants down and laying him on a changing table stopped him in his tracks. When she removed his diaper and plastic pant, and lifted the kids legs up in the air to put a new diaper under him, Jake's face turned beet-red.  So that's how it looks!.....How I look! Transposing in his mind this scene to himself, lying on the dresser under Mrs. Miller's hands. She said I wasn't a baby, but sure looks that way! He thought, blood rushing to his head. Just then the staff-member spotted him. "Oh hi Jake, come on through.... ow you're blushing", she laughed. "No need, it doesn't bother this fellow here one bit. He's far to young to care about modesty." Totally misinterpreting his face. "You're not intruding, here, come over and I'll show you what I'm doing. One day you'll have children maybe, you might learn something." Not bothered by his presence she chatted away while folding two terry's in shape explaining just as Mrs. Miller had done to him yesterday. She had him even sprinkle some of the powder on the kids little behind while she rubbed it in and smeared the cream. Jake could literary feel Mrs. Miller fingers and cream on him again, noticing the way she held the little kids legs folded up with a firm grip around his ankles, until his whole backside was covered in a white transparent film. Still uneasy by the picture of seeing himself on the table he couldn't help getting fascinated by how she stuck the pins trough the diaper and how the result looked on the little guy. What hit him the most, though, was the way the little boy and the staff-member seemed to enjoy it both so much. She spent a lot of time looking in his eyes, talking to him, rubbing his belly, touching his nose, tickling his feet, blowing kisses at his face.  The kid could not take his eyes of her, giggling and laughing most of the time, and when she stood him up to pull his sweatpants up he wrapped his arms around the lady's neck. She returned the hug of course. Finished, he returned to his desk with a slight pang in his stomach, inadvertently longing for such kind of attention. When Jenny picked Jake up from daycare she was again greeted by Marianne who told her in a loud voice again that he behaved well and worked hard. He had and was very proud when Miss Marianne told Jenny about him being ahead of schedule, standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders. "Do you know he's reading very well, Jen? I gave him a special assignment this afternoon: reading to a couple of the little ones. He has a very nice voice to listen to. They loved it...... Oh, I see you noticed. One of the kids peed on his lap when he was reading. Lucky we had a spare pant that just fit him." Jenny didn't miss the wink Marianne gave her with Jake not knowing, recognizing the little white lie, keeping Jake's dignity. "Thanks, I'll bring a bag with some spares tomorrow," she whispered when he was out of earshot.    

I keep checking for updates... It almost makes me want to write this kind of more-explicit story. A lot of fun reading. 

Chapter 7 It was nearly ten by the time the laundry was spinning, the coffee was drained, and the sun had climbed high enough to demand sunglasses. The bed had been remade — fresh sheets, fresh start — and neither of them mentioned the morning again. Instead, they wheeled their rented bikes out onto 12th Street, the cool morning air still clinging to the edges of summer heat. Bella’s helmet sat crooked on her hair. Melissa tried to tighten the strap on hers and gave up halfway through. “Ready?” Melissa asked, one foot poised on the pedal. “Race you to the Belt Line,” Bella smirked. They didn’t race, not really. Melissa wouldn’t risk it on rental wheels. But they flew. Gliding past trees and locals, dodging a golden retriever here, a stroller there. The energy between them had changed — lighter now, more playful, but laced with the kind of trust that only grows when real life slips between the laughs. They curved down the trail toward Krog Street Market, dodging art students and rollerbladers. The scent of coffee, fried dough, and spicy chicken drifted toward them like a neon sign that read YES. They parked their bikes near the mural wall, locking them up and giving each other a nod — tired, a little breathless, and fully synced. “I smell donuts,” Bella said. “I smell tacos.” “We split both?” “Obviously.” Melissa reached for Bella’s hand, just for a moment, and they walked into the buzz of the market — sisters, with matching grins, no secrets between them. - They sat side by side on a sunny metal bench outside the market, a shared tray between them, steam rising from their pressed Cuban sandwich. Bella eagerly picked apart the crunchy edges while Melissa took her first bite and let out a quiet mmph of appreciation. “This is ridiculous,” she said with her mouth half full, holding up the sandwich like it was sacred. “I think I just forgave you for eating all my Fruit Loops.” Bella grinned and wiped mustard from the corner of her mouth. “I regret nothing.” Melissa cracked open her bottle of cold beer, the hiss satisfying. She took a long sip, leaned back, and stretched her legs out toward the sidewalk. For a minute, the only sound was the hum of people and traffic—soft chatter, a distant bark, a skateboard rattle. Then Bella spoke, quieter this time. “Does Mom know? About you?” Melissa blinked, mid-sip. She lowered the bottle slowly. “She does. Sort of,” she said, choosing her words. “I mean, I told her once, a long time ago. Back when it wasn’t just the odd accident. But I haven’t updated her, I guess.” Bella nodded thoughtfully, picking at her sandwich. “She still checks my bed. Sometimes. Pretends it’s casual. She’s sweet about it, but I know.” Melissa smiled gently. “She means well. And she’s probably relieved you’re handling it like a champ.” Bella shrugged, cheeks slightly pink. “I don’t mind it as much now. I mean… it’s annoying, but it’s not like a big secret.” “That’s kind of amazing,” Melissa said, nudging her shoulder. “You’re light years ahead of where I was at your age.” Bella paused, then looked up at her. “So… why haven’t you told Mom it still happens?” Melissa looked off toward the trees lining the trail, her fingers running absently over the condensation on her bottle. “I guess… I didn’t want it to be part of how she sees me,” she said slowly. “Like if I said it out loud, it would be this thing she worries about. Or brings up. Or tries to fix. And maybe I didn’t want to explain that it’s not really broken. It just is.” Bella was quiet for a long moment, then offered the last bite of sandwich toward Melissa. “You should tell her. Eventually. If you feel like it. She’s cool about it.” Melissa laughed, taking the bite. “When did you become the wise one?” “I was always the wise one,” Bella said with a mock-haughty tone. “I just let you think you were in charge.” They clinked their drinks—beer and Sprite—and leaned back again, both of them watching the trail buzz with people. Just two sisters. In sync. Different, but understanding each other better than ever. - After lunch, they wandered into a cozy little nail salon tucked between a bookstore and a smoothie bar. The air smelled faintly of lavender and acetone. “I want something bold,” Bella declared, scanning the wall of polish like she was choosing armor. “Like cherry red. No, neon pink.” Melissa raised an eyebrow. “Neon pink? You planning on joining a K-pop group?” Bella smirked. “It’s called having range.” Melissa picked up a muted mauve. “This is as wild as I get.” “Lame,” Bella teased, but she bumped her shoulder gently against her sister’s. “Still classy, though.” As they settled into their chairs, soaking fingers and flipping through color swatches, the vibe was all girl-time and shared smiles. No phones. No worries. Just polish, playful banter, and a soft hum of blow dryers in the background. After their manicures—Bella proudly flaunting her neon pink nails like a pop star on tour, Melissa glancing fondly at her understated mauve—they stepped back into the warm afternoon air. “No sandals, no pedicure,” Melissa said, “but I feel like we still leveled up.” “I feel like I could sign autographs,” Bella grinned, holding her hands up dramatically. They strolled a little, letting their hands air-dry, until Bella slowed, eyes catching a storefront tucked between a wine bar and an old art supply shop. Its sun-faded awning read: McKinley’s Used & Rare Books. Melissa smiled. “Danger zone. You sure about this?” “I want to get lost in there,” Bella said with a spark in her eye. Inside, it was a cool, quiet labyrinth of leaning shelves and book stacks that threatened to tumble. The air smelled like paper and dust and a hint of vanilla, maybe from the old wooden floors. A handwritten sign by the door read: No food, no drinks, and absolutely no re-shelving. Bella disappeared instantly into the teen fiction section, eyes scanning spines like a codebreaker. Melissa wandered into the economics aisle, half out of habit, half from curiosity. It wasn’t long before she had a copy of a battered marketing theory book in one hand and a fantasy novel in the other. “Hey Mel!” Bella called softly from the end of an aisle. “They have a whole Nancy Drew section!” Melissa peeked around the corner. “Vintage or reboot?” “Both. And guess what? The vintage covers are so much cooler.” They spent the next half hour losing track of time. Bella found a slightly water-damaged copy of The Princess Diaries, and Melissa walked out with a used hardcover edition of Thinking, Fast and Slow she’d always meant to read. As they stepped back out into the sunlight, Bella clutched her book like treasure. “Best detour ever,” she said. Melissa looked down at her own pick, thoughtful. “Books and bold nails. You’re turning me into a better version of myself.” Bella grinned. “Obviously.” - Melissa almost dropped her book. It happened as they were rounding the corner outside the bookstore, arms full of newfound treasures and still high on the cozy magic of dust, paper, and the thrill of unexpected finds. She wasn’t looking—just chatting with Bella about whether The Princess Diaries had aged well—and walked straight into a solid, familiar shape. A hand steadied her arm. “Whoa—sorry, I—” Her breath caught in her throat. Jasper. Clean-shaven. Brown blazer. Blue t-shirt. That subtle, crooked smile that landed like a memory and a question all at once. “Hey,” he said, eyes already softening when they met hers. “Didn’t expect to find you in this corner of town.” Melissa blinked. Her voice betrayed her and came out thinner than usual. “I didn’t expect you either.” Jasper held her gaze for a beat too long—just long enough for Bella to round the corner with her book held high, victorious. “I found it!” she called, before noticing the stranger standing dangerously close to her sister. Bella’s pace slowed. Her brows lifted just slightly. She looked from Jasper to Melissa and back again. Oh. Her expression said everything. Melissa stepped back half a pace, trying to collect herself, suddenly aware of her flushed cheeks, of the still-warm polish on her hands, of Bella watching like a hawk in tween disguise. “Jasper,” Melissa said, clearing her throat, “this is Bella. My sister. The infamous houseguest.” Jasper smiled instantly. “Ah. The cereal thief.” Bella narrowed her eyes in amused suspicion. “You told him?” “He knows… some things,” Melissa mumbled, eyes darting. Jasper offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Bella. I’ve heard you’re a hurricane of brains and snack preferences.” Bella shook his hand, gaze still ping-ponging between them. “So… you’re the guy,” she said, like it wasn’t even a question. Melissa’s eyes widened. “Bella!” “What?” Bella shrugged, giving her sister the smallest, knowing smirk. “I can tell. It’s kinda obvious.” Jasper chuckled, one eyebrow arched. “She’s sharp.” “She’s dangerous,” Melissa muttered. The three of them stood there for a moment, a triangle of heat, tension, and humor. Then the energy slowly shifted. Jasper asked Bella what book she’d found, and she showed him the cover like they’d known each other for weeks. Melissa watched as her two worlds began to overlap. Not collide. Just… slide into place. Bella was already talking about bookstores and snacks again. Jasper listened, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking to Melissa now and then—not saying anything, just smiling. And Melissa? She stood there, half-stunned, heart still racing, knowing Bella had seen too much but somehow… just enough. Bella didn’t stand a chance. She started out watching Jasper with wary interest, clinging to Melissa’s side like she was vetting a potential babysitter. But it didn’t take long. By the time they’d made it through two aisles of the labyrinthine bookstore, she was trailing behind him, rattling off the plot of the dystopian novel she’d half-read last week, while Jasper nodded along like it was the most compelling political thriller ever written. When they reached the register, Bella clutched three paperbacks under her arms, looking at Melissa with wide, hopeful eyes. Jasper beat her to the stare-down. “My treat,” he said casually, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “You don’t have to—” Melissa started, but stopped herself. “I want to,” Jasper said. Then he turned to Bella, mock-stern. “Just don’t tell your mom I’m contributing to your book hoarding problem.” “I prefer the term ‘literary enthusiasm,’” Bella shot back, deadpan. Jasper laughed out loud. Melissa watched the scene unfold, heart swelling. Jasper had slipped right into the rhythm of them, like a missing piece they didn’t know was missing. After the purchase, he invited them for ice cream across the street. “This is a trap,” Melissa teased as they walked into the little shop. “You’re trying to win her over with books and sugar.” “He’s the best” Bella chirped, already eyeing the most ridiculous flavor combination on the menu. Jasper didn’t even hesitate. He ordered the same strange combo—mango sherbet and mint chocolate chip—and made a grand show of pretending it was his favorite. Bella was in stitches. They took a corner booth. Melissa got her usual vanilla with caramel swirls and watched as Jasper and Bella conspired over straws, trying (and failing) to suck semi-solid ice cream through one. “She’s a riot,” Jasper said, watching Bella nearly inhale her sundae. Melissa’s eyes softened. “She really is. She’s too smart for her own good.” “She’s like a pocket-sized version of you,” he added, voice low and warm. “Same fire. Same spark.” Melissa felt her cheeks flush. “Thanks,” she murmured. “She’s the best. I try to keep up.” When Bella slipped off to the bathroom—leaving behind a half-eaten sundae and a dramatic sigh that she’d “be back unless she drowned in the soap dispenser”—Jasper leaned in slightly, elbows on the table. “This… this turned out pretty great.” “It did,” Melissa agreed. “I was nervous. You know, bringing my world together like this.” “I’m glad you did.” Jasper gave her a look—full of quiet assurance, the kind that made Melissa’s chest feel too small for her heart. They finished up and walked the bikes together under the fading golden light. The sun was beginning to dip, and a light breeze followed them down the trail. Bella rode her bike in lazy zigzags ahead, occasionally calling out to point at squirrels or skateboarders. As they neared the spot where Jasper’s car was parked, he slowed. “Well, this is me,” he said, nodding toward the silver BMW tucked beside a maple tree. “Old faithful.” Bella stopped her bike and dismounted, walking over. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his waist. “Thanks for the books,” she said, muffled. Jasper bent to return the hug. “You’re welcome, genius.” Melissa stepped forward, amused and touched. Jasper turned to her, and with a quiet smile, pulled her into a brief, warm hug. Just before pulling back, he kissed her cheek. Soft. Simple. It lingered in the air. Bella didn’t say anything, but when they turned to walk away, she shot Melissa a sideways glance and a smirk. “What?” Melissa said. “Nothing,” Bella said, grinning. “Just… someone has a boyfriend.” “Do not start,” Melissa warned, laughing. “I’ll revoke your ice cream privileges.” “Too late,” Bella called out, skipping ahead. “Already metabolized!” Melissa turned back just once and saw Jasper watching them go, hands in his pockets, smiling like a man who didn’t mind being left behind—because he knew he wasn’t out of the picture. As they strolled the edge of Piedmont Park, the trees casting long shadows over the sidewalk, the buzz of the afternoon faded into a peaceful hum. They were quiet for a stretch, their footsteps in sync. Then Bella looked up at her sister with a sly little grin. “I won’t tell mom and dad, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Melissa glanced sideways, caught off guard. “What?” “About Jasper,” Bella said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s cool. I get it. You didn’t want to tell them yet. I’ll keep it secret.” Melissa laughed softly, shaking her head. “Thanks for the espionage backup, but it’s not really a secret. We just met recently. Too recently to be all dramatic about it. But yeah… he’s nice.” “Better than Alan,” Bella said without a pause, firm and final. Melissa blinked. It was the first time Bella had said that name in months. Nobody had. Not since it ended. And now, just like that, Bella had cut through the silence like a surgeon. “I would have to agree with you,” Melissa said, voice low but warm. She reached out and gently took Bella’s hand. They walked in comfortable silence for another block, their clasped hands swinging slightly. “When are you gonna see him again?” Bella asked. “As soon as you leave,” Melissa said, unable to resist the tease. Bella gasped in mock betrayal. “Not fair! He’s my friend now too!” “Don’t worry,” Melissa said, smiling. “If things go well, you’ll see him again. He already thinks you’re a literary legend.” “Obviously,” Bella said with a small smirk. When they got back to the apartment, the air inside was warm and still holding the smell of kettle corn and pizza from the night before. The sun was dipping low behind the buildings, painting the windows in amber light. “Okay,” Melissa clapped her hands once. “Rules are rules. Shower. Pajamas. Reading. Lights out.” Bella groaned. “I’m not even tired.” “Famous last words.” “I’m serious. I just got to the good part in my book.” Melissa arched a brow. “And what part is that?” “The part where the princess finds out her best friend is actually a spy from the other kingdom.” “Classic,” Melissa said. “Go. Pajamas. Now.” Twenty minutes later, Bella was freshly showered, hair still damp, buried under the covers with her new book—courtesy of Jasper—open in her lap. She was quiet, eyes darting back and forth across the pages. Melissa left her there, with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered, “Don’t stay up too long.” “I won’t,” Bella said automatically, already forgetting she’d responded. Melissa made her way back to the kitchen. The living room was a battlefield of empty cups, popcorn crumbs, and throw blankets tossed around like casualties. She straightened pillows, stacked the board games they never got to, and tackled the small mountain of dishes with a rhythm that felt like unwinding. The apartment was calming down with her. Resetting. By the time she returned to her room, the lights were still on. Bella’s book had slipped to her side, still open. She was curled slightly, one arm under her cheek, breathing soft and even. Her shirt had ridden up and her Goodnite peeked out from the edge of her pajama bottoms, looking exactly like a kid who’d wrung every drop out of the day. So confident. So... safe. Melissa stood at the door for a moment, letting the sight hit her in a slow wave—love, responsibility, the deep ache of growing up, and the weird, sweet comfort of knowing someone still needs you. She stepped in, careful not to wake her, picked up the book, and marked the page. She turned off the light, leaving the door just a crack open behind her. A few moments later, she flopped onto her own bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Jasper’s name. She smiled to herself. Tomorrow could wait.

From a Lacanian standpoint, a man who needs and enjoys wearing diapers is not described through a moral or medical lens, but through the structure of jouissance, the relation to the object a, and the singular way his symptom knots his relation to the symbolic, the imaginary, and the real. Below is a structured way to think about it. 1. A Diaper as an Object of Jouissance (objet a) In Lacan’s view, what matters is not the diaper itself, but the way it functions as a cause of desire and a support for jouissance. The diaper can become an object a—something that triggers, or anchors, a circuit of excitation and satisfaction beyond meaning. Lacan writes: This leftover, this “bit of the real,” is precisely where a fetish or bodily practice often situates itself. For such a man, the diaper may operate as: a material support for the drive, especially the anal drive, a screen against anxiety, a point of stabilization of enjoyment where speech falters. This is not a pathology but a mode of knotting the real. 2. The Diaper as a Signifier in the Subject’s Fantasy Lacan insists: If diapers appear in the fantasy, they serve as a scenography that gives form to desire. The fantasy is not about childhood or regression per se; rather, the diaper provides a symbolic contour to a piece of jouissance that would otherwise be overwhelming or unrepresentable. This is why the enjoyment may feel both “necessary” and “satisfying.” 3. Not Regression, but a Solution to the Real Contrary to ordinary psychology, Lacan does not interpret this as a return to infancy. The symptom holds the subject together. As Lacan writes: The diaper, in this case, is a sinthome (in the later Lacanian sense): a personal invention allowing the subject to organize enjoyment and avoid being engulfed by the real of the drive. This resonates with Jacques-Alain Miller’s “clinique universelle du délire,” where: everyone is mad (tout le monde est fou), each person invents a defense through discourse, the symptom is a singular piece of fiction that stabilizes the subject. The diaper is simply a non-standard but functional defense. 4. Jouissance, the Body, and Lalangue Diapers also relate to the body’s zones of jouissance, especially the anal zone and the relation to dirt, cleanliness, enclosure, softness, warmness—elements tied to lalangue, the infantile traces of language-as-jouissance. Lacan emphasizes: Here, the diaper condenses: tactile signifiers, olfactory signifiers, fantasies of passivity/containment, the erogenous mapping of the body. It becomes a linguistic relic of jouissance. 5. Is It Perverse? Not in the Classical Sense Lacan does not classify people by acts, but by their relation to the Other’s desire. Enjoying diapers does not automatically place the person in a “perverse structure.” What matters is: Does the subject position himself as the object of the Other’s jouissance? Or does the diaper serve as a private circuit of enjoyment? Often, this is a neurotic symptom, not a perverse structure. 6. A Clinical Summary (Lacanian Formulation) A man who needs and takes pleasure in wearing diapers would be described in Lacanian terms as: A subject who has found a singular arrangement of jouissance at the level of the anal drive, where the diaper operates as an object a within his fantasy, serving as a sinthome that knots the symbolic, the real, and the imaginary, stabilizing his relation to the Other and allowing him to manage a piece of unassimilable real. This formulation respects Lacan’s insistence that each symptom is an invention, not an abnormality.