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WELCOME to PART THREE of A NEW INTIMACY Sorry for the delay in posting this part! I'll have the audio of these first few parts posted on my YouTube channel soon. For more about me and to out my "Pampered Fairy Tales" audio series, please visit diaperhypnosis.com So let's continue with Samantha and Mark as they explore A New Intimacy! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PART THREE It happened so gradually, Mark could hardly say when the shift began. Maybe it was after he started wearing onesies every evening. Or maybe it was the routine of nursing in Samantha’s arms, the warmth of her voice, the security of the padded softness between his legs — that ritual that ended each day with a whisper of praise and a kiss on the forehead. What he knew for sure was this: when he came home, the outside world vanished. He didn’t have to decide, or lead, or question. He simply was. And Samantha took care of the rest. His speech at home started to soften. Not by intention — just naturally. When he talked to Samantha, his voice lost its edge, the grown-up words felt unnecessary. He answered in simple terms, gentle tones. Sometimes he’d add a little lilt, a playful sound. “Yes, Mommy.” “Okay.” “Mmmhm.” It was like his mind was unwinding, shedding layers of stress and adulthood. Samantha noticed, of course. She encouraged it. She gave him a pacifier — soft blue silicone, with a rubbery mouth shield. The first time he tried it, he was sheepish. But the relief of it. The stillness it brought. The way his jaw softened and his mind went quiet. Before long, he didn’t want to take it out. Not during TV time. Not while coloring in his soft picture books. Not when snuggling on the couch with his head in her lap. Samantha filled their evenings with soothing cartoons and gentle activities. She gradually rotated out the adult shows, slipping in more playful, colorful options. At first it was nostalgic stuff — old Saturday morning cartoons. Then slower-paced shows, with animals that talked, soothing narration, calming background music. He didn’t even notice the change. He just knew he felt better. Calmer. Grounded. The toys changed, too. They began as puzzles, soft stuffed animals. Then blocks. A rattle. A teething ring — which Samantha playfully handed to him one night, and which he found himself chewing as he watched TV, completely unaware of how far he’d sunk into her care. He was always good when he played with his toys. Quiet, focused, grounded. And Mommy always noticed. “You’re such a good boy when you play gently,” she’d whisper, brushing his hair. “You make Mommy so proud.” Those words warmed something deep inside him. Made him ache — not from embarrassment, but from how deeply he needed her praise now. He wanted to be good. For her. Always. One Friday evening, Mark came home from work — briefcase in hand, coat on — and stopped cold in the doorway. The living room was completely transformed. A giant, soft-sided playpen filled the center of the space. Cushioned matting, padded walls, a scatter of plush toys and baby-safe activities inside. Surrounding it were new baby gates across doorways, cabinet locks on the drawers, even corner guards on the furniture. Samantha greeted him with a warm smile. “Welcome home, baby.” He was speechless. “I thought,” she said gently, brushing his shoulder and slipping the briefcase from his hand, “it was time your home matched the way you’ve been feeling.” He looked around again, heart pounding — not in fear, but in awe. “You… did all this for me?” “Of course I did,” she said, guiding him gently toward the nursery. “You deserve a space where you feel safe. Where you can just be. No pressure. No pretending.” The dining room now had a custom high-backed chair — like a high chair, but scaled up for him. A wide tray, soft padding, safety straps. And the nursery… His breath caught in his throat. There was a crib. Large, white-painted wood, with tall slats and a soft mobile overhead. The bedding was pastel and plush. A full-sized changing table sat nearby, with shelves filled with wipes, creams, and folded outfits. A basket held his pacifiers and bottles. There were storage bins for his toys, shelves of soft books. Mark stepped inside slowly, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. It was too much. Too perfect. Too him. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered. Samantha came behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. “Baby,” she said, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “You deserve all of this. And more. You’ve been so brave. So trusting. And Mommy is so, so proud of you.” That night, she helped him into his softest onesie — the yellow one with clouds and moons — and laid him gently in the crib. He looked up at her, pacifier in his mouth, thumb curled around his favorite stuffed puppy. “You’re really going to tuck me in here?” he mumbled sleepily. She smiled, pulling the blanket up to his chest. “Every night, if you want me to.” He nodded, his eyes already fluttering shut. She stroked his hair. “You don’t have to try anymore, baby. Just rest. Mommy will take care of everything.” And for the first time in a long, long while… he believed her. He drifted off to sleep in the crib she made for him. Full of trust. Full of love. Safe, and small, and seen. The next morning, Mark woke up to the soft chime of his mobile above the crib. It spun slowly, its little clouds and stars turning in gentle circles, casting dancing shadows on the nursery wall. He yawned, stretched his arms under the warm blanket, and blinked against the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. His pacifier was still between his lips, his hand still curled around his stuffed puppy. He wasn’t embarrassed anymore. He didn’t question why he was there. This was just home now. This was how things were. Samantha entered with a soft knock and a warm smile. “Good morning, baby.” Mark grinned sleepily behind his pacifier and reached his arms out to her. She came to the crib and lowered the rail with practiced ease, lifting him into a hug, cradling him against her chest. He melted into it, sighing with contentment. She whispered into his ear: “Did you sleep well in your big-boy crib?” “Mhm,” he mumbled. “I like it…” “I’m glad,” she said, giving him a kiss on the temple. “Because from now on, that’s where Mommy’s baby sleeps every night.” He didn’t argue. He didn’t want to. Over the following weeks, Samantha introduced more structure. A printed daily schedule was taped to the nursery wall. Mark now had: Set diapering times Bottle and cuddle breaks Afternoon quiet time Evening bath and storytime And always, bedtime at 8 PM sharp. Each moment of his day was carefully designed to help him feel calm, safe, and adored—but also firmly controlled. “Mommy knows best,” she would remind him, with a kiss and a squeeze of his padded bottom. She kept a soft journal where she tracked his moods, his behavior, and his little accomplishments. She praised him when he behaved—when he used his words sweetly, when he accepted redirection, when he played quietly on the rug. When he fussed or hesitated, she’d take his hand, look him in the eye, and say, “Do you need Mommy to remind you who’s in charge?” And the answer was always yes. One Friday evening, as he knelt at her feet in his playpen, stacking oversized blocks and sucking his pacifier, she called to him gently. “Baby? Come here.” He waddled over in his soft fleece romper, crinkling slightly as he moved. He knelt before her, eyes wide. “I want to try something new,” she said, lifting a folded piece of paper from her lap. It had gold star stickers across the top and thick letters across the middle: “Markie’s Reward Chart” “For good boys,” she said softly, brushing his hair aside. “Every time you follow your rules, every time you use your words nicely, every time you show Mommy how little you want to be… you earn a star.” “And if I get a lot of stars?” he asked, heart fluttering. “Then Mommy lets you pick a treat. A new toy. Or maybe…” She leaned in close. “A special privilege. Like nursing twice that night.” His cheeks flushed. “I wanna earn lots of stars, Mommy.” “I know you do, sweetheart.” Over time, Mark’s internal world changed. The longer he lived in the world Samantha created for him, the less he wanted to think or act like an adult. He began calling her “Mommy” instinctively. He stopped watching the news and asked her to pick his shows. His work stress didn’t follow him home anymore — because “home” was a nursery where he was cherished, where expectations were soft, firm, and always lovingly enforced. And most importantly… he wanted to be good. For her. One Sunday evening, as she changed him into his softest bedtime diaper and zipped him into his cloud-print pajamas, he reached up, touching her hand softly. “Mommy?” “Yes, sweetheart?” “Do you… like having me like this?” Samantha paused, then knelt beside the crib, cupping his cheek. “Oh, baby. I love it. I’ve never felt more needed. More trusted. More adored.” “I do adore you,” he whispered. “I know you do. And Mommy adores you, too. That’s why I take care of everything. That’s why I give you rules. Because you belong to me now.” He closed his eyes, tears of gratitude brimming. She lifted him into the crib and tucked him in. Then she leaned over, pacifier in hand, and gently pressed it between his lips. “There’s my good boy.” And so their rhythm deepened. Samantha, the guiding hand, nurturing and in control. Mark, the devoted little one, finding peace in her structure, meaning in her approval, joy in his surrender. There was no more need to pretend. No more need to juggle roles or resist desires. At home, in their perfect, private world, everything made sense. Because Mommy knew best. And her baby boy was exactly where he belonged.

Yeah .... they've been out of blue since the start of the year.   But I just got some STR8UP (NRU) Blue on the way (expected delivery tomorrow).  I was never that thrilled with the Trest blue anyway --- seems to have a bit of a slate gray tint to it.  Never seen the NRU before though, but could end up being the same thing.   I really do like the blue on the Rearz Lunar Cubs.   I'll be able to take a picture comparing them side by side before the end of the weekend. 

As far as I understand it, Amanda is the most decorated professor at the university whose name alone can make a fortune. Just imagine if she were to make a side-swipe in the media against Emerson and no one would go to the university anymore I think she has an incredible amount of influence because it seems like 90% of all the software at this school is programmed by her (the 10% is the one that goes against the Littles). Translated with DeepL.com (free version)

Chapter Four Between the two options Sarah was pushing on him, one was obviously better than the other. She had thoroughly trapped him, too. It wasn’t just a matter of doing what he was told in order to keep those pictures from being shared; now he had to worry about Anna getting a confusing phone call about how he was absent from daycare. Considering how his sister and her friends had fully taken advantage of something as simple as him needing a ride to school, he couldn’t imagine how she’d react to all this.  Taylor reluctantly agreed to Sarah’s harsh terms, which apparently wasn’t enough. Instead of letting him mumble about how he’d stay through Friday, he was pushed to repeat her phrase. In his little girl voice. “I deserve to wear panties through Friday.” As if that wasn’t bad enough, the way he spoke as quietly as possible, to avoid their conversation being overheard by anyone, made him once again sound awkward and shy.  “That’s what I thought,” Sarah giggled. Now that he was playing along properly, she switched from the harsh tone to being more amused at his situation. Though he had landed in it himself to begin with, she was the one who had successfully escalated and prolonged the whole daycare thing. With Taylor’s hair in pigtails and the hushed conversation completed, Sarah gave his head a pat and roamed towards the other side of the room. She still had a job to do, and couldn’t spend all of her time focused on a single girl. Besides, it wasn’t as if Taylor was going anywhere. Even if they hadn’t just had that little talk, he was wearing a dress and had learned yesterday that sneaking off wasn’t so simple. He also had his backpack with him this time, which would further complicate such an escape plan. He had mentally prepared himself for an afternoon of puzzles and another game of Simon Says or some other childish activity. What Taylor hadn’t expected, however, was anything that involved leaving the safety of the secluded classroom.  Ms. Hamilton announced that it was a cloudy day, which was perfect for playing outside and getting some exercise. Most of the girls seemed excited by the prospect of the change of scenery, as there was only so much to do indoors. Of course, there were a handful of girls who would rather stay in, as well as Taylor who didn’t want to risk so much as stepping out into the hallway. Yesterday, Sarah had mistaken him despite the immature/girly ensemble. What if the same thing happened with someone else he knew? He wasn’t exactly in a position to argue against the activities planned. Like the more indoorsy girls who would prefer working on homework or more calm activities, he was stuck listening to those in charge and going along with what the majority of the girls were excited about. Taylor practically held his breath as they left the classroom in a single file line, half expecting someone on the baseball team to be standing right out in the hallway to bust him for all of this. Obviously, that didn’t happen. His teammates were all at practice, where he was supposed to be right now. There was also the fact that he hadn’t walked in a single file line since elementary school. It was just the norm for all the girls around him, but he felt embarrassed and out of place as he followed those in front of him. Stepping outside was more nerve-wracking than being in the high school halls. Though they were on the more secluded side of the building, with a path that led towards the playground that was their destination, any number of Taylor’s classmates could have chosen this area to loiter after school while waiting for a ride or whatever. It turned out that his concerns were valid, as a guy from one of his classes was hanging out with some girl on the swing set. Heart racing and face flushing, Taylor immediately cast his gaze downward and turned his head slightly away. As badly as he wanted to hide behind the girl in front of him, shifting too much in line would potentially draw attention to him more than remaining in his place would.  Luckily, the two of them weren’t going to be staying. Before Ms. Hamilton approached them to ask if they would mind vacating the playground for the daycare group, the couple got up and walked off in the opposite direction. It probably wasn’t difficult to tell why a group of girls would be heading towards the area. After Sarah and Ms. Hamilton went over a few ground rules, everyone was free to split up and do whatever they felt like. As the girls dispersed, Sarah pulled Taylor aside. She could get away with it, as he was still the ‘new girl’ who was still figuring everything out. “One more thing, Taylor,” she said, after making sure no one else was within earshot, “You have to actually participate. Act like you’re having fun, too. If I ever catch you pouting, I’m adding a day of panties and daycare. Got it?” She couldn’t do that! “But-” “Ah, ah,” Sarah cut him off, “Give me your biggest smile, right now, and tell me that you’re a little girl. Or maybe you want more time in panties and pretty dresses?” Every time, it was a choice that wasn’t really a choice. Sarah could effortlessly set up such concepts, being the one with all the power for once. Smiling while dolled up like this went against every fiber of Taylor’s being, but he forced both the expression and the voice to keep the power-tripping brunette from shifting the goalposts beyond Friday. “I’m a little girl,” he said, with a smile that was more demure than cheerful due to his hesitation. “Hmm, are you sure? You don’t want to be a big boy?” Sarah taunted him. Barely keeping up the smile, he gave a small shake of his head. “Of course you don’t,” she said, “That’s why you put on panties and came to daycare yesterday. You’re a little girl, Taylor. You deserve panties and pigtails. Now, go play with your friends. Remember, this is supposed to be FUN.” With that, Sarah turned him towards a group of girls drawing a Hopscotch board with chalk and gave him an encouraging little push from behind. Taylor had never understood the point of Hopscotch. Jumping from square to square was a stupidly easy feat, even when he was a kid. This was actually the first time he had ever played, as he had pretty much always thought it was a dumb, girly activity. Turns out, the rules were about as simple as he expected. Toss a bean bag into the first square, jump from beginning to end while skipping the square with the beanbag in it, then repeat the process with the second square. Stepping on a line or on the wrong square meant having to redo that round after everyone else took their turn. The first girl to successfully do ten rounds would win. Thanks to his recent chat with Sarah, all Taylor could do was focus on keeping himself from scowling in annoyance. One by one, the girls took their turns, until it was time for him to do the same. Though Sarah was halfway across the playground, he could practically feel her eyes on him as he stepped up to the chalk. Tossing the bean bag into the very first square was nothing for a baseball player like himself; it was the next part that was a bigger ordeal. Forcing out a girly giggle, he proceeded to start hopping forward. The Mary Janes he was wearing weren’t nearly as familiar as the sneakers or cleats he wore on a daily basis, and every jump caused his pigtails to randomly bounce around. After a successful round, he picked up his bean bag and went to the back of the line to wait for the next one. When he glanced from side to side, double checking that no one from school was walking past the playground or remotely within sight, he noticed that there was another daycare group across the field from where they were. An all boys’ group, doing their own outdoor activities that were easily preferable to what the girls around him were interested in. A large group of them were playing Kickball, some others were playing a game of HORSE, and a few were just tossing a ball around. Even something as simple as catch sounded more appealing than a game of Hopscotch. “Ooh, Taylor!” the blonde girl behind him in line called out his jealous staring, for a reason that she was reading in a completely different way, “Do you have a crush?!” He was so off guard that he almost responded in his actual voice. Managing to catch himself, he just shook his head and muttered a higher pitched, “No.”  It was enough for the girl in front of him to turn around. “You totally do!” she exclaimed, “You’re blushing!” That wasn’t his fault. He was a guy–a straight guy–who was now being mistaken as a little girl and being called out for something that wasn’t true at all. In their defense, they were assuming he was straight, but had his gender backwards. “Is it Thomas?” the girl behind him asked, “John? Luke?” He didn’t give into their curious badgering. Mostly because he didn’t want to lie and ‘admit’ to some random name, when he didn’t actually go to the school across the way. That, and he was going to be stuck at daycare for the whole week, and didn’t want a false crush to become a whole thing. Instead, he just insisted that he just liked playing Kickball, and wished they could be doing that instead. All while somehow maintaining an idle smile and faking a girl's voice. Eventually, they let it go, since the line was moving and it was soon Taylor’s turn again. He did just as well the second time around, though he almost lost his balance halfway through due to the unfamiliar shoes. The pigtails weren’t the only thing that bounced, as the skirt of the borrowed dress also swished and shifted as he hopped from square to square. Never enough to risk flashing the BARBIE panties, but mortifying nonetheless when he was used to wearing shorts and jeans. Taylor really had no interest in winning. While he was competitive when it came to baseball games, he had nothing to prove to a group of tween girls. However, he still was annoyed when his athletic talents failed him a couple times throughout the coming rounds. After the third square, landing the bean bag properly became a little more difficult; throwing a ball to first base didn’t perfectly translate to tossing something underhand to a spot outlined by colored chalk. He also messed up once just because of how one of his jumps caused him to touch one of the lines. Not his best showing, when he was used to being the star player everyone cheered for. As the game progressed, Sarah drifted over once or twice, always making sure to catch Taylor’s eye before moving on to check on another group. A constant reminder that he should be having fun with his ‘peers,’ rather than pouting about his situation. He’d use something different than pouting, but still. He ended up having to constantly purse his lips into a forced smile, selling it with his eyes whenever his brunette classmate was around, and included a couple more girly giggles along the way when necessary. By the end, he took third place out of the group of eight girls. There was still time left in the afternoon, and they decided to move on to doing some jump rope together. Taylor was along for the ride, as otherwise he’d have to roam the playground and insert himself into some other activity that had already started. When it was his turn, he quickly learned that the pigtails/skirt bouncing was even worse when he had to constantly move up and down in rhythm with the ropes that the girls on either side were rotating for him. “Keep going, Taylor!” Sarah was back, and cheered him on in a way that would sound completely normal to those present while also being a subtle warning to him, “You’re having fun, aren’t you?” To the others, it was like she was checking on the new girl. Taylor’s interpretation, however, was that she wanted more than whatever he was currently doing. So he giggled more for her benefit this time, rather than for the sake of positive energy, smiling big and chirping, “SO much fun, Ms. Sarah!” That’s what the other girls called her, so he felt compelled to follow suit when in a situation where he was being treated the same as the rest of them. Not too much later, Ms. Hamilton told everyone to line up so they could head back inside for pick-up. Similar to the previous day, Taylor was the last ‘girl’ left, and Sarah was willing to give him a ride. In fact, she told Ms. Hamilton that it was an arrangement she had made with Taylor’s family, as his house was on her way home and she was good friends with Taylor’s sister. All of it was bullshit, since he was fairly sure Sarah and Anna had never met. Like yesterday, Sarah took his hand and walked him out of the classroom. This time, he at least had his backpack with him, though that was the first thing she commented on once it was just the two of them. “Your backpack is too boy-ish, by the way,” she said, “You’re wearing your sister’s panties, right? I bet she wouldn’t mind if you borrowed some more of her things.” He still cringed every time she said it like that. Technically, yes, the cartoon print panties were his sister’s. But he didn’t take them out of her drawer or anything like that. They were from a box in the basement, and no one was currently wearing them except him. Before he could figure out how to respond to that, Sarah changed the subject. “Oh! I overheard something about you having a crush on a boy? I bet all those baseball boyfriends of yours would love to know that you swing that way.” “I don’t!” he exclaimed. Being stuck in the girly tone didn’t help anything. “Mm hmm. Then why don’t you have a girlfriend? All those cute boys you ogle in the locker room have girlfriends. But not you. Why’s that, little girl? Is that why you pretend to like baseball? So you can be surrounded by hot guys?” “No!” Taylor knew she didn’t actually believe anything she was saying, but he still felt flustered by how she was twisting the facts. He didn’t check out teammates in the locker room. If anything, it was the opposite; he went out of his way to avoid being seen. His ‘little secret’ was also why he was still single despite the numerous girls who had expressed interest over the last few semesters. Chuckling to herself, Sarah offered him yet another ‘Would You Rather’ type decision, “Well, here’s what I think. Tomorrow, while you’re pretending to be a big boy, we can tell people that I’m your girlfriend. Or, if you’d prefer, we can tell everyone that you’re gay.” Taylor’s eyes widened at that. Sarah? His girlfriend?! He would never date a nerdy girl like her! But he was also well aware that a blow to his reputation in that regard was nothing compared to what would happen if everyone saw him dressed up like he currently was. And he absolutely wasn’t going to let the whole school think he was into guys! For starters, it was blatantly untrue. And it would make things incredibly awkward in the locker room, whether people believed it or not. Since it was pretty easy to guess which way Taylor would end up leaning if pressed to choose between the two options presented to him, Sarah simply gave his hand a squeeze and said, “It’ll be fun, babe. Besides, I’m the perfect girlfriend for you. I won’t judge you secretly liking panties and pigtails more than you like baseball. Now, do you want me to pick you up for school tomorrow? Looks like you don’t have your own ride any more.” Until Sarah pointed it out, Taylor hadn’t noticed the now obvious absence of his car. He had been thinking about it that morning, when it was fresh on his mind, but hours of being dolled up and faking smiles through daycare had thoroughly distracted him. Apparently his car had been towed, as he vaguely remembered where he had parked it the previous day. He nervously scanned the rest of the lot, as if his sedan would magically appear in a different spot, but it was nowhere to be seen. “Aww, what’s wrong?” Sarah taunted him, once again reveling in her ability to turn the tables on the obnoxious jock she had to put up with until recently, “It’s fine, Taylor. You’re eleven, remember? Girls your age are too young to drive.” He was speechless. Partly out of surprise, partly because it was difficult saying anything when he was supposed to be talking like a daycare girl. Sarah just chuckled at the look on his face, tugging him along towards her own car. “Let’s go, little girl. Do you know if your older sister is home?” Taylor had no clue. Anna’s schedule was all over the place, plus his baseball practices meant that he wasn’t the one to ask about what his sister was doing on any given afternoon. He just shook his head, still processing this latest turn of events. “Hmm, guess we’ll find out,” Sarah shrugged, “I think it’s best if I escort you all the way inside from now on.” ----------------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "From Taylor to Tay-Tay" (14 chapters currently available) and other exclusive stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

That seems like Crewell and unusual punishment. 🙄