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  1. Thank you all for commenting. I appreciate it.
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  2. I mostly use plugins, which I previously used my Roland Edirol PCR 300 for, although sadly I'm a clumsy dipstick and there's only so much coffee, wine and cola that a keyboard can take before it stops working. I recently saved up however and bought myself a Roland TR-8 drum machine which incorporates both the classic 808 and 909 drum sounds with plenty of tuning options. Here's a short video I made throwing some Hip-Hopish beat with the 808s (although I switched to 909 closed hi hats because the 808s are so quiet)
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  3. Because of Morgan An ABDL Novella by Mina Taylor Chapter 1 My bedroom was silent, save for the buzzing of the light bulb above and the sucking of my pink butterfly pacifier. Gone was the blasé yellow flower comforter Mom had bought me when I moved back in after college, replaced with a far more appropriate slick pink Disney Princess cover, topped with my rosy pink baby blanket with my name stitched into it, encircled with a white lace heart. My stuffed bunny, Abba, rest comfortably in my arms while I stretched and smiled at the crinkle of the diaper around my waist. All my books had been taken down and put into storage. My hope chest had been covered with a plastic mat with bottles of baby powder and oil at the foot, with a large pack of diapers and an even larger box of scented baby wipes. I smiled as I snuggled into my bed, covered by the weight of the two blankets and turned on the TV to something suitable for a little girl of my age. I smiled as I saw my parent’s cable subscription included Noggin. To think there was ever a time where there wasn’t a channel dedicated to programming for toddlers! I giggled as I pulled my paci out and reached over to my dresser, where a fresh bottle of apple juice was waiting for me. Eagerly, I thrust the rubber nipple into my mouth and nursed thirstily as I babbled back at Dora the answers to the questions she was asking me. I was so excited to help her and Boots go on an adventure! I was even more excited when I felt a warm pressure at my bladder. Relaxing as best I could, fighting twenty years of potty training to the utmost, I managed to get a few drops into my waiting diaper before I was finally able to force the floodgates wide open. Agu! I thought to myself, imaging myself to be almost two years old, getting better at speaking but still resorting to baby talk. Mommy, daddy, pee pee! Holly uhoh! Changie me! I grinned and blushed around my bottle, nearly reaching adult baby nirvana, when I heard the first creak. The bottle popped out of my mouth as I sat up in bed. The panic set in when I heard the door upstairs close. My heart pounded like a jackhammer against my chest as I scrambled out of bed, tearing off the comforter and my baby blanket and stuffing it into the cardboard box at the foot of the bed where I had been hiding them. My parents had been gone for almost two hours on their way to Kansas City, and knowing my dad, he would not have forgotten anything. Even if he had, he would just buy what he forgot when they arrived. I gasped as I put the half-empty bottle of juice and the pacifier on top and twisted my body around, searching for my sweatpants. “Holly?” I heard my sister Morgan calling from upstairs, the sound of her feet pacing casually across the kitchen floor, right above my basement bedroom. “I saw your car outside. Are you home?” Crap! I recalled, remembering how I forgot to put my car in the garage after Mom and Dad left, too excited to think of anything else other than my 72-hour getaway of being a baby again. Morgan wasn’t supposed to know I was still here, and Morgan wasn’t supposed to be here. She was going to Wisconsin Dells with her boyfriend. They were supposed to have left tonight. Don’t tell me… “I’m here,” I managed to call out, having more than 75% of the incriminating evidence put away. “What happened to your weekend with Travis?” “Travis got stuck working. One of his co-workers had appendicitis and they needed him to come in this weekend, so we decided to reschedule.” Shit. “So…” I panted, shoving all my diapering supplies into the hope chest and pushing the large box of wipes, too big for the inside, into the closet. “You’re staying here this weekend?” “I don’t know,” she answered, honestly to my annoyance. I pulled both ponytail holders I had used to put my medium brunette hair up into pigtails out of my hair, letting it down as I struggled to find a clean shirt. “Are you downstairs?” I heard the basement door open as my heart leapt higher than I had felt it leap before. “Don’t come down!” I shouted in a panic. Immediately, I realized anything else would have been better to say, but Morgan’s curiosity was piqued, and that meant bad things for me. “Why?” she asked as I heard her feet coming down the stairs. I panicked, looking for the Febreeze to cover up any babyish smells that may have already filled my room to no avail. Quickly, I came out of my room, turned on the light in the main den just outside and went to greet my sister. “I was just on my way up,” I tried to explain. “Okay,” she answered, but didn’t sound like she believed me. My little sister Morgan was far more perceptive than my parents and I needed to get her out of the house as soon as possible. I had been waiting for a month for this. With everyone gone, I was finally going to be able to indulge in my little self, and here was Morgan, as always, ready to completely ruin my plans. It wasn’t that I hated Morgan. She was my sister after all, but I couldn’t help but think of all the times my life would be easier if she wasn’t my sister. Only being two years younger than me, there was such a little gap in our ages that the whole “big sister, little sister” thing never happened and we weren’t twins. It was awkward. I was into nerdy things like cartoons and fantasy books, and she was into the things most girls liked. We never shared clothes or makeup, never liked the same boys… she had well-kept honey blonde hair and flawless skin, and I don’t even want to talk about her boobs… It goes to say Morgan was my sister in name only, but name only was all Morgan needed to make my life miserable. I never tried to compare myself to her, but she always made sure to let me know when she did something better than me or when she did something before me. I always took it in stride, congratulating her on her various achievements despite how much I wanted to scream and tell her what I really thought of her arrogant attitude over me, and I could only imagine the things she would say if she found me in a diaper of all things tonight. I could not, I would not let that happen. As I made it to the top of the stairs, Morgan was getting a Diet Coke from the fridge. Of course, she didn’t ask me if I wanted one. I sat down in one of the tall chairs at the granite kitchen island as my sister took a seat at the table, grabbing the remote and turning on MTV. “So what are your plans tonight?” she asked. I resisted the urge to strangle her then and there for interrupting them, but held back. It was a blessing she didn’t know. “Just hanging around the house?” “Yeah,” I replied, not feeling any need to follow up. “Callie said she’s going to the movies, so I think I’ll go too,” she announced. I kept myself in check, careful not to celebrate just yet, but my urge to get her out of the house could not be contained. “Going soon then?” I asked, hoping for a yes. “In about an hour,” she replied, hunched over the table. “I’m going to watch Teen Mom first.” Oh god no, I thought as I searched for one of Mom’s tabloid magazines on the island. I already couldn’t stand MTV, but a show about young moms taking care of their babies would drive me up the wall tonight as I stewed in my sodden diaper, becoming colder by the second. The number of worries I had just continued to pile up as Morgan sat there without a care in the world. “You watch this show, Holly?” Morgan asked. “Oh wait, it’s not a cartoon so probably not.” “I’ve seen it,” I lied. “Once or twice.” “Really?” Morgan became curious. “Since when do you watch MTV?” “It makes for good background noise when I’m reading,” I admitted. That wasn’t a lie. Stupid television shows really did make it easy to focus on whatever book I was reading. “Oh,” Morgan replied, sounding disappointed. Of course she would be. It was just one more thing that made us as different as night and day. I kept quiet, focusing on reading trashy celebrity gossip as Morgan watched her show intently and I did my best not to pay attention. The growing irritation of my diaper was taking up most of my focus anyway. I was doing pretty good, holding my focus and bearing with the growing cold and irritation of my wet diaper until about fifteen minutes before Morgan was getting ready to leave. She got up from the table to put her coke can in the recycling bin outside, stopping just inches from me. I looked at her as she paused and turned to me, quizzically. Her nostrils flared as my eyes got wide. “What is that?” she said aloud. “Do you smell that?” “Smell what?” I played dumb. It was all I could do as I prayed my face was not flushing red at that very moment. “It smells like a diaper,” she said. Her voice carried a welcome sense of disbelief. I laughed, remembering my sister’s job at the daycare down the street she had been working at while going for her education degree. “Maybe you’ve just smelled so many dirty diapers, the smell is ingrained in your nose.” “Oh god,” Morgan hit me, not too hard but hard enough. “Don’t even joke about that. You have no idea what it’s like.” You wanna bet? I thought with a little smirk as she made her way outside with the empty soda can. She walked back inside, smelling my wet diaper again, but choosing to ignore it. I sighed a little bit as she went over to the couch to finish her show. With relief, she got up to get ready to meet her friend at the movies as soon as it was over. Making sure she had her keys, I played the dutiful big sister. “Do you have everything you need?” I asked as she looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she answered with a bit of a snap. “I’m not like you, always forgetting something.” I smirked again. No fights tonight. Just have to get her out of the house and back to my downstairs paradise. I wasn’t about to blow this now, not when I was so close to being alone again, just me and my infantile thoughts. “Have a good time,” I managed to call out as she went out the front door. Morgan didn’t respond as she closed the door. She didn’t need to respond though. Her absence was the sweetest music to my ears. My diaper was already beginning to itch as I headed back downstairs to my room, pulling out all my supplies and redressing the hope chest. Dropping my sweatpants and taking off my shirt, letting my small breasts out. For a moment, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to calm down as I spread the plastic mat over the chest. Grabbing my paci from the cardboard box I stored it in, I popped it in my mouth, nursing rhythmically on it as I lay down and spread my legs, reaching on each side to untape my crinkling wet diaper decorated with teddy bears and balloons. As the cool air rushed into my smothered nether regions, I whimpered as I pulled the front of the diaper forward, allowing my bare privates to embrace the refreshing open space. I closed my eyes, imagining someone that I could exactly see, but whose presence comforted me. I couldn’t decide if it was a man or a woman, mommy or daddy, picking up my legs as I lifted them myself. I strained down beneath me, opening the first of the many soft plastic packs of baby wipes I had bought as I pulled out the first one. Ceremoniously, I draped the tip of it over my nose and took in its scent. I can’t remember a day in my life where the sight, the smell, or even the thought of baby wipes did not put my brain on lockdown. It’s an obsession that I’ve lived for as long as I can remember living, but I’ve never been able to figure out why. It would have made my life a lot easier if I didn’t. Taking in that intoxicatingly powerful and fresh scent made my whole body tingle, like inhaling a drug. It was because of those moist scented little cloths that I was this way, that I became an adult baby, and that I craved to be diapered and bottle-fed and put in a crib. It was a fate I had resigned myself to many years ago after fighting against it for so long. In fact, tonight was the first night I was fully indulging in these desires, acting like I was less than two for the first time since I was less than two. I giggled a little to myself around my pacifier, nursing happily as I dropped the baby wipe over my face so it was all I could smell. Reaching down with a trembling hand beneath me, I grabbed another wipe and began to gently rub it on my left nipple, then my right, trailing it down my tummy and under my love handles, which made me squirm and twitch with pleasure with its feather-soft touch. “Holly, I…” The wipe fluttered down from my face over my vagina as I sat up on the hope chest, twisting my head at the bedroom door so quickly I’m surprised I didn’t break my neck in the process. My eyes widened, unable to blink as my mouth hung just slightly open, looking over at the door, and seeing Morgan standing at the entrance to my room in full sight of my infantile self. Chapter 2 It’s true what they say, that the things you fear happening the most will happen at the very moment you least suspect them to happen. I expected Mom would walk in on me one night with a pacifier in my mouth, or might find my diapers while I was out looking for a job. This was not on my list of predictions. This wasn’t even something I had ever considered happening, and it was for this very reason that when my eyes met Morgan’s that my mind froze up as I sat there, naked and smelling like a baby, unable to move, unable to scream. It didn’t seem I was alone in the matter either. Morgan too was standing in the doorway, standing perfectly still. Her eyes were widened and her brow bent, looking as though she was struggling to comprehend what she had just walked in on, if she should say anything, or if she should just leave. “I…” Morgan spoke, stopping, as if she was having trouble remembering how to speak. “I just… I’m low on money for gas, and was wondering… I wanted to ask…” It seemed as she found her capacity to speak, she always found her capacity to move. Quickly, she took a step back, and then another. I realized she was going to leave. My own brain kicked into gear at that time, and the first thing it told me was she can’t leave. I didn’t even think of the consequences of my actions as I got up off the hope chest as Morgan broke into a full run towards the staircase back to the main floor and out of the house. Naked as the day I was born, I charged out of my room after her, latching on firmly to the staircase handle as I used my momentum to catapult myself around and up the staircase, launching myself at Morgan and grabbing her legs with desperate hands. We both fell face-first onto the carpeted steps, the sound of us falling making such a loud booming sound I thought people well outside the house may have heard it. Morgan immediately began to kick at my face. “Let me go!” she screamed over and over again. “Get away from me!” “I can’t!” I cried, half from the pain of being kicked and half from the terror that had finally surfaced in the realization that I had been caught. “I won’t! You can’t go! I won’t let you!” I threw my body around her legs, dragging her back down the stairs as she clawed at the stairs and walls. By this point, and rightfully so, Morgan was really scared. Maybe if I had been calmer about things, things would have gone better, but I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was what my instincts were telling me and make sure she didn’t tell anyone. I got on top of her, holding her down as she kicked and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Get off me, you freak! Help! Someone help!” My hands tightened around her wrists as I looked down on her, screaming in horror at the actions I had taken. I couldn’t imagine what was going on in her mind. I was too afraid of what I was seeing in my mind if I let her go. It became too much for me, to see my sister like this at my hands and to feel the way I did from her finding me indulging in my adult baby state, I finally snapped and broke down. She kneed me in the stomach as I feel over on top of her, crying loudly with big ugly tears gushing from the corners of my eyes, leaving scalding trails down my cheeks. I moaned and wailed as I reached out to her in futility, realizing I couldn’t silence my sister and that I wouldn’t be able to stop her from telling anyone she pleased. I curled up in a ball, assuming my short life, as I knew it, was done and over. Morgan gathered herself, visibly shaken as she hurried for the staircase. “Please!” I wailed in desperation. “You can’t! You can’t tell anyone! You might as well kill me!” “Is that what you were going to do to me?” she screeched back. I winced from the sound and the sting of her words. “I’m sorry,” I bawled. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry… I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do,” I choked out through my sobs and stilted breathing. “I was scared. I was terrified. If anyone found out, I was dead. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I just…” Morgan paused halfway up the staircase, neither taking a step back down or a step towards the ground floor. She simply looked down on my, eyes narrowed, judging me, condemning me. “You just what?” she asked in a demanding tone, so calm and collected it shook me deeply. “You just what, Holly?” “I can’t help it,” I tried to find the words to explain, words I had no intention of saying to anyone ever face to face, surfacing through my blubbering as I looked up at Morgan with swollen, puffy eyes. “I can’t… I’ve always been like this. I’ve always wanted this, for as long as I can remember. I would have given anything to stop, to forget wanting this, but I wasn’t strong enough on my own, and I couldn’t tell anyone. I was too scared. I still am.” “And that makes you think you can…” Morgan tried to respond, her voice lording over me, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand to hear her self-righteous holier-than-thou tone for one more second. “It doesn’t!” I screamed. “But it’s all I have and I can’t let you take it from me! I’m nine months out of college and I have no job! I had to move in with Mom and Dad! I have no boyfriend! I have to borrow money from Mom and Dad to go anywhere and do anything! I have no life! This is all I have, Morgan! This is the only thing I have left that makes me happy and you were going to take it from me, like you always do!” “I don’t always…” she tried to go on in the same tone. Again, I silenced her with my own voice, louder and more demanding as I banged on the basement floor in my vulnerable state. “You do! You always do!” I shouted, my tears dripping onto the carpet. “You always tell me about how much better off you are than me! About how you’re working to be ready for a job when you’re done with college! About how I was stupid to get a liberal arts degree! About how you have a boyfriend! About how you have more money, and a nicer car, and your own apartment! About all your friends! About your perfect fucking life! Well, this is it, Morgan! This is the best thing in my life! This is what I am now… so go ahead… now that you know, go ahead - make sure everyone knows that you are better than me in every single way… it’s what you’ve always wanted.” My face was cherry red, my heart pulsing harder than ever, snot dripping from my nose and the tears still coming. I could feel my body giving out as I collapsed on the floor in a pile of despair as Morgan went back up the stairs. Curling my knees to my chest, I wished to wake up, to find it was all a dream, crying until I woke up, only to find that when I closed my eyes, that’s when the real nightmare began. I looked down on myself, exposed, diapered with a comically large baby big around my neck with the words “Little Stinker” typed onto it, sucking on a pacifier that I could seem to reach to take out of my mouth. I was on a chain, unable to see who was leading me as I passed all my family and friends who stared at me in mixed reactions ranging from unbelieving laughter to shock and horror. As I was walked along by the chain, I found myself messing the diaper, seeing stench lines spread out to my captive audience, signaling for them to demean and disown me of my humanity and Morgan, front and center, smiling with satisfaction. “Holly,” I heard her speak as the nightmare began to warp and distort, falling into black. “Holly… Holly…” “Holly,” I heard to voice clearer as I felt the light poke of a finger digging into the back of my shoulder. “Holly, wake up.” I groaned as I rolled over, looking through blurry, crusted eyes as Morgan quickly stepped back, as if she had been waking a sleeping lion. “Hm? What?” “Get dressed and come upstairs,” she said, retreating up the staircase. “We need to talk.” A deep, dark feeling sank in my chest. My arms trembled as I struggled to push myself off the carpet. Stumbling to my bedroom, following the pale yellow light through the darkness, I managed to find my sweatpants and the same clean shirt I had worn earlier this evening. Slipping into them, I made my way up the stairs, feeling as though I was climbing the steps of an hangman’s platform towards a waiting noose. I squeezed my eyes shut as I made my way to the top, looking past the kitchen at the clock to see what time it was. My eyes and my body still hurt, but I was able to squint enough that I could see it was only 10:30. Morgan was leaving at 9:00, which meant only an hour, 90 minutes at most, had passed. Did she not go to the movie? Had she been here the whole time? “Over here,” she called out to me from the living room, sitting in a dark green upholstered chair. She pointed towards the dark brown couch near her, ushering me to take a seat. I did as I was told, having calmed down and realizing my fate now lied in my younger sister’s hands. Morgan sat on the chair, wrenching her hands, tensing as I approached her and took a seat. I didn’t blame her. I felt terrible for how I reacted and I knew there was no way I could ever fully apologize for what I did. Morgan sat there for a few minutes, struggling to say something. I thought of opening my mouth, but I had already said everything I wanted and needed to say already. “What exactly did I walk in on down there?” she began, spitting it out forcibly, as if it was something she needed to get out there at any cost. I retracted at the question. Did she not see what I had been doing? All the paraphernalia I was surrounded by? How could she have thought of anything else? “You saw,” I answered. “You already know.” “I want to hear it from you, word for word, exactly what I saw.” “I can’t…” the words fell out before I could stop them, coming out of pure reaction before Morgan interrupted me loudly. “Holly, tell me now, or I will tell Mom and Dad.” My heart leapt, only for a moment, at the possibility that Morgan hadn’t told anyone yet, but knowing there were conditions to that possibility tugged at my chest painfully. For as nervous as I had been at making sure no one found out, the fact Morgan knew made things even harder. I had to say something. “I was changing my diaper, sucking on my pacifier, and touching myself with baby wipes.” Morgan paused for a moment, having to comprehend exactly what I had just said. “Why were you wearing a diaper?” “Because…” I winced with fresh tears ready to burst. “Because I’m an adult baby. I’m an adult who likes to act like a baby. It makes me feel happy. You were supposed to be gone this weekend and I was already in a diaper when you got here. I didn’t expect you to be here, or anyone for that matter. It was just supposed to be me. No one was supposed to see.” “And you’re embarrassed by this?” “What the hell do you think?” I cried, rising off the couch before I was stopped with a simple utterance of my name. “Holly!” Morgan shouted in a loud, commanding voice, as if she were my own mother. “You won’t talk to me like that again. Answer the question.” “Yes,” I said in a very small voice. “I’ve always been embarrassed by it. It’s who I am and I can’t let anyone know. I can’t imagine what they would say or do. I don’t want to.” “What do you think now that I know?” “I don’t know what to think,” I answered, trying to keep as calm as possible and failing. “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, interrogating me like this. I don’t care if you do or don’t understand. You never even loved me, you never even tried, so what do you care now? Just go. I don’t even care anymore.” I was waiting for Morgan to answer with some haughty remark about how much it means to me now that she knows, but she remained silent for a long time, staring down at her hands rather than me. My eyes remained fixated on her, waiting for her to bite back like always. As the minutes passed, Morgan did finally react, standing up, ending our brief conversation. I was prepared for her to leave and let me stew in anticipation for the end of my normal life, but I jumped as she took my hand and pulled me upright off the couch. “Come on,” she asked, devoid of any real emotion. “We’re going downstairs.” “For what?” I fought back, pulling my hand away. “So you can humiliate me more? So you can lord over me how much better you are than me?” “Do you want to be a baby this weekend or not?” Did I… did she just ask me what I think she asked me? No, no that couldn’t have happened. My mind raced as I felt my hand taken by Morgan as I was led in my stupor back down into the basement back into my bedroom. Morgan let go of my hand and looked around the room, her arms crossed over her abdomen. “Show me everything,” she commanded sharply. “Like what?” I asked, not understand the command. “Everything,” she repeated again, enunciating the word pointedly. “All the baby things you bought for this weekend for you. I want to see all of it.” “Why do I have to…?” “Holly, you are in no place to talk back to me right now,” Morgan responded, again with the voice that was not condescending but rather authoritative, talking to me as though I was a child… or more like… “Holly, I don’t have all day.” Like a baby. I looked at Morgan, grimacing and seeking mercy only to find none from her stern gaze. I couldn’t risk her telling anyone so I did as I was told, taking out everything until I had a sizeable pile of various infant accessories spread across the bedroom floor; my Disney Princess bed sheet set, my baby blanket, a white plastic changing mat, a full pack of Bambinos minus the one I had used tonight, a box full of several packs of scented baby wipes, lavender-scented baby powder, baby lotion, baby oil, baby bath, baby shampoo, bath toys, teething rings, a rattle, building blocks, a pink bib that read “I’m An Angel”, a mint green baby bottle, and my treasured butterfly-shaped pacifier. Morgan looked upon my collection, her hazel eyes widening with a sense of being impressed and surprised. “That’s everything?” “That’s everything,” I sighed, collapsing behind my decent-sized pile of shame. “Okay, that should be enough,” Morgan said, picking up the plastic changing mat and carrying it into the main room of the basement, laying it on the black leather ottoman next to the couch. “Come on, over here.” “What are you going to do with that?” I asked, following her into the main room. She patted the mat twice, looking in my direction. The signal was not lost on me, but the command wasn’t one I was going to follow. “Are you kidding me?” “Get over here, Holly. Don’t make me ask you again.” “You’re not serious,” I stated clearly. “You can’t be serious.” “Holly Elizabeth Decker,” she spoke to me in a manner that made me know that without any room for second-guessing exactly what she wanted me to do. “Lay down over here right now or I won’t be the only person who knows about what you’ve been doing with the money Mom and Dad have been giving you each month.” Oh dear God, my mind screamed as I took slow, tentative steps in Morgan’s direction. She waited for me patiently as I made my way over to her. She looked at me as I stood in front of her, fully clothed, with a look of disbelief. I gasped in realization but Morgan was faster, taking full responsibility for my undressing, urging me to lie down naked on the cold plastic mat as she went back to my bedroom, coming back with powder and a clean diaper. “So here’s what’s going to happen. How much did Mom and Dad give you this month?” Morgan asked, looking at me and expecting a quick reply. “Three hundred,” I responded, to which Morgan had to keep from laughing. The idea that my unemployed self, who didn’t have to pay rent or for food, who spent most days looking for a job, would need so much money was ridiculous to her. “I want two hundred.” “You’re blackmailing me?” I sat up quickly, but found myself quickly pushed back down as she diligently lifted my legs by my ankles and put the diaper underneath me. “That’s my money!” “Babies don’t need money,” she explained as she unscrewed the cap on the powder bottle and applied the snowy dust liberally to my bottom. “And babies don’t take care of themselves. If I don’t watch you, who knows what you’ll end up doing without anyone to stop you. Until Sunday when Mom and Dad get back, you are going to do everything I tell you to do and you’re not going to give me any lip. If you don’t do as you’re told, you’ll be punished. If you keep it up, then I will tell everyone about what you’ve been doing in secret with your parents’ money. As long as you do as you’re told, no one will know about tonight except you and me. Are we understood?” “What if…?” “We aren’t negotiating any of this. You attacked me. That’s illegal and I have the right to go to the cops. I know you didn’t mean it but I’m still within my rights, and unless you agree, that’s what I’m going to do,” Morgan stated clearly as she taped me snug into my new diaper, clean and dry and smelling of baby powder. “Are we understood?” I paused, unsure if I should say yes or no, knowing the consequences of each wasn’t weighing heavily in my favor either way. “Can I ask why?” “Because you’re my sister,” Morgan answered, pursing her lips anxiously. “And because no matter what you think about me, I don’t hate you and I wouldn’t try to hurt you. So, yes or no?” I looked at my sister anxiously, unsure if I could really trust her after everything I knew about the twenty years I had spent with her on this earth, but if she was telling the truth, if she was really going to look out for me, I had to take that chance over the alternative. I nodded softly as she took my hand with a small smirk, maybe even half a smile, as she led me back to my room and had me lay down on my bed, tucking me tight into my Disney Princess bed sheets and covering me with my baby blanket. “It’s past your bedtime,” Morgan told me teasingly. “Sleep tight. I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned off the light and I winced, remembering I had forgotten my teddy bear nightlight. I didn’t have the heart to ask her to get it out of its hiding place in my dresser drawer. As darkness fell around me, I fell into a restless sleep. It seemed I was going to get my weekend of being a baby after all, but I was going to be treated like one as well. Chapter 3 It feels like it’s been an eternity since I last saw the sun. Having laid in bed all night spending equal times awake and asleep, I began to doubt the sun was ever going to rise again. Sure enough, a wave of indigo light surfaced from the darkness, yielding to a morning I had begun to doubt was coming. I squirmed beneath my covers, feeling the soft, cushiony material of my diaper bunch up around my thighs, urging me to remember the events of last night. I threw my baby blanket over my head, trying to blot out the steadily rising sun and push away the reality the morning would bring. Maybe she left, I curled up tightly on the bed, fearing the worst. Maybe she just said all those things so she would have a chance to leave. I wouldn’t blame her. It was in this thinking that I was startled by the sounds of footsteps above me in the kitchen. Morgan was still here, and from the sounds of pans being taken out and her pacing the kitchen, it sounded like she was busy making breakfast. I held the blanket tighter over my head. I didn’t want to believe that my sister could ever care about me, when she had never shown any sign of caring about me up until now. Why was she really doing this? Blackmail? Pity? My mind raced to find Morgan’s ulterior motive for agreeing to “babysit” me for the weekend as I heard her footsteps echoing down the basement staircase. Within moments, she was at my door. I closed my eyes, wanting her to think I was and had been asleep all night long. Lifting the blanket from over my head, I made sure to remain perfectly still, budging only when she gently nudged me with her hand. “Good morning, Holly,” she welcomed me back to the waking world with an active smile, or at least that’s what I think I saw. I may have still been dreaming. “Up and at’em, sleepyhead.” I grumbled and grabbed the blanket over my head. “No,” I fought back. “Five more minutes.” “We have a busy day, Holly,” Morgan announced, no change at all in her pleasant morning tone. “We can’t have you sleeping all day. Rise and shine.” I held tight to my baby blanket, so Morgan grabbed my bed sheets and ripped them off with one strong fluid motion. I whimpered, curling up and finding what salvation I could in my blankie while Morgan sat on the bed, shaking me again by the shoulder. “Holly, don’t be difficult,” Morgan sighed, grabbing me from under the shoulder and pulling me into an upright position. “Now get up, I need to check your diaper.” “It’s dry,” I yawned, standing up. This did not deter Morgan at all as she grabbed the front of my diaper and pulled it back with the waist of my sweatpants and looked inside. I blushed, taken aback by the complete lack of privacy I had as Morgan did the same in the back, letting go of the waist of my diaper and pants with a muffled snap. “So you are,” she concluded, patting me on the butt. “Good girl staying dry all night. Now let’s go upstairs for breakfast.” Morgan did not miss a beat as she corralled me towards the staircase. Her tone, her body language, and her choice of words… she really was treating me as if I were actually a baby. It conflicted me the way she was treating me; part of me wanted to tell her to stop, but another part of me, the part of me I wanted to embrace this weekend, was compliant and willful to do as her babysitter told her. Morgan remained pleasant in the face of my compliance as she took my hand and helped me up the stairs. I tried to take them at my normal pace, but Morgan held tightly to my hand. As I moved, I nearly pulled her back down again, but this time Morgan was ready, hand firmly planted on the railing. She looked at me with playful exasperation. “Now, Holly, if you run, you might fall. Hold my hand and we’ll go up the stairs together.” I smiled a little, doing as I was told as Morgan called out “left foot, right foot” over and over as we walked up the staircase, hand in hand. The sound of my diaper crinkling echoed up and down the narrow staircase with every step I took, serving as a constant reminder of my place, but Morgan’s hand, holding mine gently, guiding me until we reached the ground floor and the kitchen somehow managed to put me at ease and make me feel okay. It was like the Morgan I knew had become someone completely different overnight. “Sit down and I’ll get you a plate,” she told me as I dutifully obeyed, sitting down at the head of the table near the patio door. I looked to my right into the living room, seeing Strawberry Shortcake on the TV. I looked at Morgan, completely disinterested with the cartoon, before I turned back in active interest. As the show moved into commercials, Morgan brought me a small plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of milk in one of my old sippy cups. I guessed that somehow it must have managed to stay in the cupboard all these years, but my attention was quickly drawn to the utensil she had got for me. “Does Holly want to feed herself like a big girl or let Miss Morgan feed her?” Morgan asked me, pinching a small white spoon with an airplane-shaped handle. Its age showed in the fading color of the red, yellow, and blue windows on the plane, but the sight made me twinge with nostalgia. It was already too much to see Morgan found the relic of my infancy, but to be fed with it was too much for me. “I’ll feed myself,” I replied softly, taking the spoon and examining it, hardly believing it was real. First, Morgan found the sippy cup and now the airplane fork. How many other reminders of my toddler years did my parents keep? Pinching the small utensil between my thumb and forefinger, I dipped the spoon into the fluffy white eggs. Morgan watched intently and couldn’t help but comment. “My, someone knows how to hold her spoon like a big girl too! Are you really a baby, Holly, or are you just pretending?” I looked at my sister, reading the knowing look in her eyes and her sly smile. She was testing me. I could tell she intended to treat me like a baby to the fullest, but did she really intend for me to act like a baby to the fullest? I added these questions to the already sizeable pile in the back of my head about her motivations, doubting I would get any answers anytime soon. I hesitated with the spoon, pinched between my fingers, gulping as I looked at Morgan with uncertainty. Widening her eyes a little, she motioned with her gaze towards my breakfast, but I felt too self-conscious to eat like this, placing the spoon down on the table, Morgan reached out. “Well, if Holly doesn’t want to do it herself, Miss Morgan can make sure…” “No,” I said with a small but defiant voice, like a toddler asserting her independence to be a big kid, even though she really wasn’t. “I can do it.” Morgan watched intently as I reached down again, this time grasping the airplane spoon with my whole hand, scooping up eggs like a shovel. I avoided Morgan’s stare as I leaned in close to scoop each little bit of eggs into my mouth. “Good girl,” she said encouragingly. “I’m going to go clean up so you be good and don’t make a mess. I want to see a clean plate, little missy.” I blushed at her term for me, reassuring me of my role as I continued to eat. Not that Morgan was a terrible cook, but the eggs tasted a bit overdone. I tried to solve the problem with my sippy cup, of which I did not have nearly the same problems drinking as I did with eating with the airplane spoon. It was similar to my baby bottle, but the milk eventually ran out, leaving me with just the dry eggs. I got up to go to the refrigerator to get some ketchup, only to stop at the sound of another scolding. “Excuse me,” Morgan’s voice rang out loud and clear for me to hear. “Did you need something, Holly?” “I was just getting some ketchup,” I tried to explain as Morgan walked over in my direction, taking my hand and leading me away from the refrigerator. “Hey, what gives?” “The refrigerator’s off limits,” Morgan explained, helping me back into my chair. Once I was properly seated and pushed in for good measure, Morgan went to the refrigerator and came back with the ketchup. “I can do that myself,” I asserted myself as she opened the cap on the ketchup bottle. “Really?” she asked, feigning surprise. “None of the two-year-olds I work with can handle squirting their own ketchup without making a mess.” “I’m not two,” I replied, to which Morgan looked at me, smirking as she squirted the sweet red sauce over my eggs, not even letting me do it myself. “Yes,” she corrected me, putting the cap back on the ketchup bottle. “Yes you are, Holly. Now hurry up and finish your breakfast while I finish cleaning up.” Morgan’s words stuck with me as I returned to my breakfast. I really was going to get the full toddler experience. Once again, I attempted to navigate the airplane spoon, only to get more and more frustrated with just the tiny pieces I could get into my mouth. Fed up, I got closer to my plate, sloppily shoveling my breakfast into my mouth as Morgan cleaned up the pans and counters. “Holly!” she called out to me halfway through my meal. “What did I tell you?” Realizing how close I was too my breakfast, I pulled away to see I had spilled a good portion of eggs on the table and my face was covered with bits of egg and smears of ketchup. Hands on her hips, Morgan looked at me with fake surprise, as if she had expected this to happen. “You hold still while I get your bib. No more messes!” I sat perfectly still where I was, feeling very small from my scolding as Morgan went downstairs and came up with my bib and a pack of baby wipes. Without dropping a beat, she pulled and tied the loose pink strings until the velvety fabric of the bib came up around my neck, knotting them with a big bow. “I knew you weren’t a big girl, Holly, but that’s okay. We’re gonna make sure you eat all your yummy eggs and then we’ll clean you up, okay?” I couldn’t even respond as Morgan hurriedly dipped the airplane spoon into my breakfast and pulled out a bite, holding it out towards my mouth. “Open wide,” she asked of me, circling the airplane around my mouth. “The airplane’s coming in for a landing.” I hesitated, but Morgan continued to prompt me until I finally opened my mouth and she landed the airplane in the hanger. The force of having the spoon put inside my mouth by someone else was both uncomfortable and humiliating. The first bite did not go as planned, as I spit it out when Morgan pulled the spoon out before I even had a moment to react. “Holly, be good,” she warned me. “No more messes. Eat your breakfast.” Having a better idea of what was coming did not make it any more comfortable, but I was able to react faster, taking in the food before Morgan could pull the spoon out. It became like a rhythm after a while. In goes the spoon, close my mouth, eat, out goes the spoon, chew, in goes the spoon, close my mouth, eat, out goes the spoon… As soon as I finally felt comfortable with the rhythm, Morgan suddenly put the spoon down and began clapping her hands happily. I clapped my hands too, though I wasn’t sure why we were clapping. “Yay, you did it!” Morgan cheered. “Clean plate! Good girl, Holly! Now let’s get that icky face clean too.” I looked at my plate to see it really was clean, before Morgan fetched a baby wipe from the pack and smothered my face with it. Despite how good it smelled and was making my face smell, the pressure of Morgan’s hand scrubbing my cheeks and mouth clean made me squirm and wince as I struggled in my chair. “I know, I know, but we’re almost done,” Morgan said, wiping daintily at the corners of my lips. “There we go, what a pretty clean baby you are!” I spit a little bit, the soapy taste of wipes on my lips as Morgan pulled out my chair and helped me up, whether I needed the help or not. She faked grunting as she helped me stand up. “Oof, you’re heavy. How much did you eat, Holly?” “Morgan,” I finally sighed out loud. “You don’t have to go this far. I don’t need…” “Miss Morgan,” Morgan corrected me, putting a finger on my lips. “And yes, I do need to go this far. This is what we agreed on, right? You’re a little two-year-old who still wears diapers and needs to be looked after, and I’m the one looking after you. That means doing as you are told and addressing me with respect, the same I would ask of any of the other toddlers I look after. Now, come on, we need to get you dressed so we can run errands.” “Errands?” I repeated, pulling away from her. “Oh no, no no no, that’s not happening. I am not going out like this and you can’t make me.” Morgan put her hands on her hips, speaking to me as if she were trying to reason with a small child. “Holly, I can’t leave you here by yourself. Are you going to be a good girl and come downstairs with Miss Morgan to get dressed or are you going to throw a fit?” “I’m not going!” I stomped my foot on the floor so hard it made the plates on the table rattle. I stared Morgan down, daring her to do something. If she wanted to treat me like I was two, I would act like I was two. What I didn’t anticipate was Morgan’s reaction. She was willing to punish me like I was two. “Holly, do you need a time out?” Morgan said in a low, threatening voice. “But you just said you had errands,” I argued. “You don’t have time to put me in time out and get your errands done.” “No, I’ll have time,” Morgan affirmed, staring me down with a knowing gaze. “What I won’t have time for is finding you clean clothes that hide your diaper bulge, so you’ll just have to wear whatever I find, whether people can see you’re wearing a diaper underneath or not. Now then, Miss Sassy Pants, I’ll ask you one more time, are you going to be a good girl and come with Miss Morgan or are we going to have to put you in time out?” I couldn’t tell if Morgan was just playing the role of the caretaker, if she was enjoying her place of power over me, or both. I felt so small in front of her as I shrank back, looking down at my toes, afraid to look Morgan in the eye. “Well, missy,” Morgan pushed me to answer. “What’s it going to be?” I fiddled with my hands behind my back, turning my ahead away and answering in a very soft and small voice; “…’ll gu.” “What was that?” “I’ll go,” I said, wincing and ready to cry. “I’ll go. I’ll be a good girl. Just make sure no one can see my… my…” “Your diaper?” Morgan emphasized, making me blush in embarrassment. I could only nod as I took her hand as she led me back downstairs in the same careful motions she had walked me up the stairs before. Still holding my hand, she took me into my room and began to look through my dresser and my closet. “Let’s see, let’s see,” she said allowed as she dug through my clothes. Everything was too tight, so Morgan took out a pair of purple jogging pants. “How about this and a loose T-shirt?” Morgan offered “Are you kidding?” I stifled a laugh. “I’ll look so dumpy.” “Would you rather advertise your pampered butt wherever I need to go?” Morgan raised an eye towards me. I blushed, looking away again. “T-shirt’s fine…” “That’s what I thought,” Morgan acknowledged, walking over to me with the shirt, white with purple and blue flowers spackled across the front, placing it and the sweatpants on my bed. “Arms up.” I obeyed, lifting my arms as Morgan pulled my shirt off over my head, then went for my pants, pulling them down in one sharp motion. “Step out,” she commanded as I stepped back out of the leg holes, careful not to trip. “Good girl,” Morgan praised me as she held the sweatpants down on the ground. “Okay, now step in. Come on, you can do it!” Blushing from ear to ear over Morgan’s incessant high-pitched encouragement, I did as I was told as Morgan wriggled up the jogging pants until they were square over my butt. I looked behind me, feeling tentatively. The diaper crinkled to my horror. “Morgan, I don’t want to do this!” I whined. “Holly, I’m not going to keep doing this with you,” Morgan tapped her foot impatiently on the carpet. “Did you or did you not tell me last night that you were an adult baby?” “Morgan,” I whined. “I don’t want to do this.” “Did you or did you not, Holly?” I looked down at the floor again. Morgan really had that power over me. “I did.” “Mmhmm,” Morgan agreed. “And if you’re a baby, and I’m your babysitter, is it not my job to make sure you’re taken care of?” “Yes…” “And would Mom and Dad be pleased to know their little baby Holly didn’t do as her babysitter told her?” “You wouldn’t.” “I told you I would,” Morgan reminded her, holding the T-shirt up. “Now arms up, Holly. It’s time to go shopping.” I whimpered as I lifted my arms up, Morgan once again praising me with her loud, high-pitched voice meant to further enforce that I was and would be treated like a two-year-old in every single aspect this weekend. Morgan was already proving she would go farther with this than I myself intended. I was scared as we walked back up the staircase, hand in hand, and went out to the garage to Morgan’s SUV. I opened the passenger door, only to hear a loud “ah ah ah” from my domineering sister. “Only big girls sit up front,” Morgan stated. “Into the back, young lady.” As I got in, Morgan even came around to make sure my seatbelt was buckled properly, before making sure my hands and feet were clear of the door prior to closing it. I squirmed in my seat as Morgan got in the driver’s side door, buckling up and opening the garage door. As she turned the ignition and began backing out, I looked behind me out the rear window towards the road and wherever it would take me this morning, for better or for worse. Chapter 4 I didn’t know where we were going, and I doubted Morgan would tell me. It didn’t matter anyway. Being out in public was being out in public no matter where we were going. I cringed at the thought of anyone hearing my diaper, looking in my direction and suspecting I was wearing something other than proper underwear underneath these jogging pants. I stared out the window as Morgan focused on the road, looking at the outside world, in which every person I looked at seemed to be a threat to my privacy. I wanted to so desperately lunge from the backseat and grab the wheel from her, and force her to take me home, but I had learned my lesson about acting on impulse out of fear. I had to sit here and fear the worst. Looking up at Morgan in the rearview mirror, seemingly undeterred, baffled me. If I was caught, she did realize she’d be with me, right? Not that I could understand my sister before, but I really didn’t understand her now. The passing blur of trees and houses as Morgan crossed town began to feel like a constant and I wondered if I was having a nightmare, or maybe the car had crashed and this was hell; waiting to be taken and embarrassed and having to live with that unsettling feeling for all eternity. “Holly, what’s wrong?” Morgan finally asked, as if she had absolutely no clue how I was feeling or what I was thinking about. “Are you still upset I wouldn’t let you stay home?” “I’m upset you took me anywhere in a diaper!” I cried, pouting and crossing my hands over my chest. “If anyone finds out, I’ll never forgive you!” “I told you, as long as you do as I say, no one’s going to find out,” she reminded me. Her tone was far more pleasant and understanding than it had been when she was getting me ready. “Do you think I’m lying?” “Maybe,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t have any reason to trust her and she wasn’t giving me one. “How about I put on some music,” she offered, pressing the black dial on the car radio. “Would you like that?” I didn’t respond, and so Morgan chose the most grating auto-tuned white-girl-pretending-to-be-black EDM hip-hop song I’ve ever heard. I made it about fifteen seconds before I put my hands over my ears, shouting “turn it off!” “No way,” Morgan smiled, nodding her head up and down to the beat. “This is a great song!” “No, it’s not!” I cried, throwing my hands against the back of the rear seats. “Turn it off, Morgan! I hate this song!” “It’s almost over,” Morgan’s voice turned back into a scolding one as she eyed me severely from the rearview mirror. “And don’t you dare beat up on my car, missy, or you won’t like what happens.” I didn’t care. I was at Morgan’s whim, wearing a diaper, being taken out in public, and now I had to listen to her shitty music on top of everything else? I wasn’t going to take this. “Turn it off!” I screeched, pulling my knees back and kicking the empty front passenger seat hard. My feet banged against the leather seat, making a banging sound that caused Morgan to slam on the brakes hard. My seatbelt held me back, digging into my chest as I flew forward and flew back towards the sounds of angry horns and curses flung in our direction as she pulled over slowly to the side of the road. As she violently jammed the transmission shift into park, she clutched the headrest of the front passenger seat and spiraled around to face me, eyes wide and blazing with disdain for my actions. I could see she wanted to hurt me, be it physically or emotionally, and I was ready for it. I winced, my body tensing and bracing for my punishment. Morgan pointed a sharp finger at me, shaking and waving it at me, poking me in the chest as she pointed each and every word that spit out of her mouth towards me. “Don’t you ever kick my car again! You are on thin ice this morning, and if you don’t shape up immediately, I will consider our deal broken and everyone will know about little baby Holly! Do you want that?” “But you weren’t…” “Do you want that, Holly?” I cringed. Nobody had scolded me like this in years. I guess I didn’t need to worry about being caught in a diaper. I was already acting like a two-year-old just fine on my own. I found a tiny voice of compliance inside and whispered “no”. “This is your final warning. If you disobey me one more time, it’s over. Do you understand?” “Yes…” I whimpered, ready to cry from how horrible I felt being yelled at. “Yes what?” “Yes…” I repeated, thinking back to Morgan’s words from this morning. “Yes, Miss Morgan.” “I hope so,” Morgan replied, in a voice so eerily familiar that the nostalgia of being scolded by our mother crawled over me. Morgan did not belabor the point, instead putting the car back into gear and merging back into traffic. As I watched her from the rearview mirror, I could hardly imagine that I was really her older sister. I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t act like it. I really was in no position to claim as such. I was sure Morgan felt the same, if she hadn’t before now. After a little while of silence, Morgan turned the radio back on, but instead of staying on the Top 40 station, she moved to the oldies station. “If we put on something you like, will you be good at the salon?” So that’s where we’re going, I thought, never having it occur to me that Morgan would tell me. I nodded from the backseat where Morgan could see me as she turned up the music. I smiled a bit as I heard the synthesized tones as the next song started up. I had a feeling Morgan would too. I smiled a little as she began to sing along, very softly, as Irene Cara’s wonderful voice broke forth: First, when there’s nothing, but a slow glowing dream That your fear seems to hide deep inside your mind I smiled, remembering I was the first one who introduced Morgan to this song when I did it for my dance recital when I was eight. I knew the words by heart to this day, and sang along too, a little louder, a little happier: All alone I have cried silent tears full of pride In a world made of steel, made of stone We both began bobbing our heads as the beat kicked in, singing the rest in harmony as Morgan drove to the salon on the other side of town. The feelings of fear and concern seemed to disappear in a flash. All I could think about was having fun with Morgan and singing with her. Maybe I was looking at this the wrong way. Maybe Morgan wasn’t worried because there was no need to be worried… and if only it was that easy. I wish I could have gotten over my fear of being in public like this when Morgan pulled into the strip mall parking lot, but as the 80s pop music and the comfort of going somewhere but not being there disappeared, the fear set in. Morgan unbuckled her seatbelt, coming around to my side and opening the door. “Come on,” she beckoned me, reaching over and unbuckling my seatbelt. “This won’t take that long. I just want to get my nails done.” I’d never been to this place before so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Paying for a mani-pedi wasn’t something I was accustomed to, as I could just do it myself as needed for much less, but it seemed Morgan knew the lady at the reception desk as they exchanged pleasantries and hugged, before Morgan was led back into the building. “Go ahead and take a seat,” Morgan called after me. “It won’t be long.” I sighed, sitting down carefully in one of the three empty plastic chairs in the waiting area, careful not to make as many little crinkling sounds as I could manage. The receptionist didn’t seem to care about my careful positioning of myself as I settled in and grabbed a fashion magazine, beginning to flip through it. I laughed a little. Morgan was right, and I would bet money she was going to make me say it when we got out of this place. After a few minutes had passed, the receptionist, who I thought was minding her own business, actually decided to address me. “You know, we’re not that busy today,” she spoke, twirling in a pen in between her fingers. “Did you want something done too?” “Sorry,” I blurted out, before I looked around and realized I already had one. “I forgot my purse.” The receptionist sighed and sat back down as I felt the mesh pockets of my pants and realized I actually wasn’t carrying anything on me. My phone, my wallet, my purse, the contents of my entire social life were all back at the house, and I had the feeling that wasn’t an accident. After fumbling through all the magazines and some of the style books, Morgan finally emerged, showing off her daintily sculpted fingertips, shining a smooth and pretty shade of periwinkle blue. “What do you think?” “Great,” I managed, not one to gush over things like painted fingernails. “Are we going now?” “As soon as I pay, silly,” Morgan smiled, turning to pay her receptionist friend as I stood up, waiting impatiently by the door. The two seemed to begin a new conversation as I tapped my foot impatiently, but impatience was soon overrun by a new sensation as I felt a cramp in my abdomen, my hand instinctively moving to the aching spot and holding it, as a new fear washed over me – one I had not prepared for nor was I in any way able to handle. The receptionist noticed this, looking over Morgan at me. “Hun, are you okay?” “Yeah,” I managed, waving the cramp off. “It’s just my time of the month.” “Gotcha,” she said, looking me up and down, as if she was thinking that explained why I looked so dumpy and seemed so sullen. Actually, that was a good excuse. I decided I’d use that if anyone asked. Morgan was smarter than her though. She knew my period was at least a week away, but she didn’t say anything as we left the salon and got back in the car. “Where to now?” I asked anxiously as the cramp subsided, though I feared for how long it would hold. “A few other places,” Morgan said nonchalantly. “There’s no need to hurry, is there?” She knew, she had to know, but I wasn’t about to let her call my hand. “No,” I lied through my teeth as my eyes sank to my tummy. “No, I just want to get home is all.” “We’ll be home soon enough,” Morgan addressed me with her nice tone, smiling and putting her hand on my knee from the driver’s seat. “You did very well in there. If you keep it up, maybe we’ll get something special for lunch.” I smiled, appreciative that I did good and that things went much smoother than I expected, but I could care about lunch right now. There was a much more pressing matter on my mind, and I wasn’t even sure how or when I could bring it up. Morgan started the car and pulled out, circling the car around the east side of town up to the bank. Every bump and dip shook my stomach, only serving to make me even more worried as the drive once again seemed like it was never going to end. The cramps returned by the time we got to the bank. Once again, Morgan came around to my side after getting out, opening my door and unbuckling me as she took my hand and helped me out of the car. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the salon,” she noticed. “Is something the matter?” I was positive she was teasing me now, but I grimaced, ignoring her with a little “nothing” as we went inside so she could deposit some paychecks. I squirmed a little, trying to find anything to take my mind off the cramps, which had come back with twice the intensity in a place where there was no way I could say anything. Looking around, I spotted a little woven basket filled with lollipops - the safety kind that came on a ring. I spotted a grape one and reached for it, looking at the teller. “Um, is it okay if I take one?” “Sorry,” she said, pulling the basket away from my hand a little. “Those are for the kids.” “Oh,” I sighed as I squirmed a little, hoping my cramps would pass once again and give me time to get home. The unbelievable irony of it all… “Angie,” Morgan addressed the teller. “She’s got low blood sugar. It’s just a sucker. Can’t she have one?” “You should have just said so,” Angie said, pushing the basket back towards me. “Take one. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” That’s a good one, I thought as I took one of the grape ones with a gracious smile. You have no idea how much I’m hurting right now as it is, lady. “Holly?” Morgan stopped me before I could get the safety pop in my mouth to have something to take my mind off the growing, cramping urges. “What do we say?” “Oh,” I gasped, blushing a little bit as I turned to face the teller. “Um, thank you.” “You’re welcome,” the teller replied, a little surprised as she turned to Morgan, trying to whisper but doing a terrible job of it. “She seems a little off.” “She’s just having a rough day,” Morgan replied as she walked away towards the exit. “See you later.” I stood there, a little bit in shock to see my sister defend me publicly. I couldn’t remember the last time she had done something like that. With the lollipop securely around my ring finger, I watched her walk off with the grape flavor seeping onto my tongue before she turned around and waved to me. “Are you coming, Holly?” I jumped a little, removed from my shock as I chased after Morgan as we left the bank. “What do we say?” Morgan asked as she buckled me into the back seat. “Thank you, Miss Morgan,” I said with a smile. Morgan rewarded me a smile in return as she closed the door, asking I watch my fingers and toes as was becoming the norm as she walked around to the driver’s side. Oh my god, I thought as we pulled out of the bank, looking up at Morgan with awe. I really was worrying over nothing. The last stop was the grocery store, which was fortunately a quick trip to get some things Morgan wanted for snacks and some food for me, because – as she so eloquently put it – she needed to get food I’d be able to eat. So things like spaghetti, oatmeal and applesauce were added to my immediate diet. I hadn’t had any problems until we got back in the car as the cramps came on full force, so bad that I had no choice but to grab my tummy with both hands and wince. It was coming down to the wire. “So,” Morgan announced as she started the car up again. “I was thinking, you’ve been such a good girl everywhere we went this morning, how about we go get some McDonald’s to bring home?” “I can’t eat pizza, but I can eat McDonald’s?” I groaned, as the cramps hit again. “It’s a treat,” Morgan looked at me quizzically. “What’s the matter? Does something hurt?” “It’s nothing,” I squeaked out, knowing damn well that was the last time I was going to be able to say it. I couldn’t even do so convincingly anymore. “Holly, what’s going on,” Morgan curled herself around the front seat towards me. “Are you okay? Does your tummy hurt?” “Morgan,” I begged, near tears. “Don’t make me say it.” Morgan looked at me for a moment, her eyes seemingly searching for the meaning behind my eyes, before widening in surprise with a great big “oh”. “Oh, Holly, no honey, don’t do that,” she begged me, pulling my hands away. “You’re going to hurt yourself. Just let it out.” My eyes nearly bulged out of my skull from the oncoming cramp and the serious amount of shock I had over Morgan’s words. She did not seriously just say that. No, I had to have heard her wrong, way wrong, because my sister did not seriously just insinuate that she… “I’ll change you when we get home,” Morgan responded. “This what you have your diapers for, right?” Oh my god, this was actually happening. I choked on my tongue, struggling to find words that would fit, let alone would make sense. “You… I… no, I… Morgan, are you serious? You can’t be serious. You’d really have me…” Morgan looked at me with a face that let me know she was neither surprised nor horrified by the situation. “What part of “two-year-old in every aspect” wasn’t clear? You’re wearing diapers because you’re two, Holly, so of course I expect you’ll use them.” “But… but this is… this is serious,” I gasped on the final word, the cramps so strong that a little bit fell onto the soft padding beneath my bottom. “Morgan, it’s your funeral if you let me do this.” Morgan audibly laughed at this as she turned back and began to drive off towards the McDonald’s on the other side of the grocery store. “Holly, anything you do won’t even crack my top ten worst changes.’ Perhaps, my sister had lost her mind as much as I had, but it didn’t matter any longer. My mouth parted in a whispered gasp as my bottom expanded and a rush of soft doughy mess caked itself all over the back of my diaper. The sudden release of pressure also set my bladder off, coloring the front of my diaper as equally as the back. I panted as we pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru as we got in line. Morgan looked over at me, putting the car in park for a moment as she leaned back and put her hand on my knee. “Did you make a stinky?” she comforted me as I sat in my well-confined mess. I couldn’t tell if she was actively consoling me or humiliating me, but her words rang of sweet truth. “I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you? Yeah, it’s not good to hold in your tummy when you have to potty.” She turned back around as she pulled the car forward, still going on with her comforting words. “Just sit tight and we’ll get you all cleaned up when we get home, then we’ll have a yummy lunch and then we’ll take a nice nap. Okay, baby girl?” Maybe it was because I was tired, exhausted even, from the effort of holding it in and letting it all out, but the rush of euphoria from the release was undeniable. I looked at Morgan from the back and smiled, sucking on my safety pop. I really was a baby girl. "Okays, Miss Morgan," I babbled, sucking on my lollipop as we waited in line to order. Chapter 5 Whatever the wine-red Highlander in front of us was ordering, it must have been enough to feed a small army. We had been sitting in the drive-thru for nearly fifteen minutes and Morgan, being the stubborn person she was, did not see any reason why she couldn’t park the car and go inside to order, though I was sure she could smell one. It didn’t take long after I had filled my diaper for her car to begin to fill with the earthy stench that could only be a full diaper. In addition to the smell, the mess I was sitting on was already beginning to cool, making me squirm. I began to let out little grumbles and whimpers as I wriggled in my seat. Morgan, trying to be patient, reached back and put her hand on my knee again. “Stay still,” she asked of me in as patient a tone she could manage, knowing I was trying to bear with the wait just as much as her. “It’s just a little while longer.” “But I don’t like it,” I whined, kicking my feet a little, but nowhere near like I did earlier that morning. My feet this time didn’t even make contact with the seat in front of me. “Miss Morgan, I wanna go home.” “We’ll be home before you know it,” she tried to comfort me, though I knew she had as much control over the people in front of us as I did. “Just bear with it. It’s not like this is the first time you messed yourself, right?” My cheeks turned red as I looked down in my lap, trying to avoid Morgan’s eyes on me from the rearview mirror. “It is…” I pouted as I squirmed a little more. “Hey, hey, what did I say?” Morgan grabbed my knee to stop me. “If you squirm and leak on the seats, you’re going to be in trouble, missy. Just sit tight and I’ll change you first thing when we get home, okay?” My only saving grace as the smell of my diaper began to wash over the car’s interior was the knowledge that Morgan probably hated it as much as I did. Mercifully, the Highlander pulled forward and we were able to place our order to the person on the other end. Morgan didn’t even bother to ask me what I want. She already knew what baby Holly would want and wasted no time. “Okay, I’ll have two grilled snack wraps with ranch and a small lemonade, and a happy meal with chicken nuggets, fries, a Sprite, and a girls’ toy. That’ll be it.” “Nuggets!” I clapped from the back in a higher-pitched voice. I must have surprised Morgan as she hunched her shoulders up, stifling a laugh as she pulled forward. “Where did you learn to make your voice sound like that?” she asked, not only surprised, but also seemingly impressed. “I thought you were a real toddler for a moment.” “Practice,” I said, a little embarrassed but a little proud of myself at the same time. I was doing my best not to let the smelly mess beneath me bother me too much, though I couldn’t say I would be able to keep it up much longer. Having never messed myself before, I was unsure how long it would take for diaper rash to set in. When I wet, I would change after fifteen minutes, thirty at most, but a number two felt like it was a whole different ballgame, and every minute I feared I was contributing to what could be a very big problem for the rest of the weekend. We pulled forward behind that damn Highlander again, watching as seven bags made their way into the SUV before they pulled away. Morgan handily paid the cashier and took our drinks and food, doing everything she could to make the process as quick as possible for the other people piling up behind us. Once we had everything, we took off. “What ‘bout barbeque sauce?” I complained. Morgan had to remember we never ate chicken nuggets with barbeque sauce. “Did you get da barbeque sauce?” “We have sauce at home,” Morgan eased my worry. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let a little nugget-eater like you go without it.” I couldn’t remember off the top of my head if we did have any, but knowing my family and how much we loved the stuff, Morgan was probably right. The only disappointment though would be in not getting to dip my nuggets in the little plastic cups McDonald’s gave out and digging for every last drop for my nuggets and fries. Morgan raced us home, driving faster than she had the rest of the morning. She practically jettisoned out of the driver side door as we made it home, parked in the garage and closed the garage door. I followed her with my head as she dashed around the front and opened my door, hurriedly unbuckling me and taking firm hold of my hand as she helped me out, getting me inside in a hurry and taking me downstairs to the basement. “Oh man, Holly, what did you eat last night?” Morgan asked as she went to the basement bathroom and grabbed a spare towel, laying it on the carpet, and then laying my changing mat on the towel. She forewent changing me on the ottoman, not wanting to risk my poo getting on the furniture. “You made a really big stinky, didn’t you?” I sucked on my lollipop, playing coy to the atrocity that I had deposited in the back of my Bambinos as she reached up and grabbed my hand, urging me to lay down with my messy diapered rear firmly on the plastic mat while she went to my bedroom for all the supplies, coming back with powder, oil, and a fresh pack of wipes. “What about the ones upstairs?” I said, noticing she was opening a new pack. “You have plenty,” she remarked, kneeling down in front of me, reaching out and taking hold of the legs of my pants, wriggling them off of me as the smell of my diaper became even stronger. “And you bought the cheap ones, so I know I’m going to need a lot.” I blushed as I sucked on my lollipop as Morgan examined the damage, looking unsure where to start. I knew she had gotten in over her head when she told me to mess myself and know she knew too. Morgan, though, wasn’t about to swallow her pride. With her freshly painted periwinkle fingernails, she picked at the tabs of my diaper, peeling each tape off with a loud resounding ripping sound. I nursed on the paper ring itself around my finger, glistening with grape lollipop residue as she pulled off the last tape. Carefully, she pulled back the front, just enough that she could see the full extent of what I had done before closing the front back over me. “Oh, Holly!” she exclaimed loudly. “What a messy baby you are!” My heart twinged a little bit as she pulled it back again carefully, the shock of my mess beginning to slowly subside as the soaked front landing on the changing mat with a dull plop. Morgan looked at my exposed self, tilting her head as if wondering where she should begin. I felt so vulnerable in front of Morgan, but I was surprised that my heart was racing not in fear, but anticipation. For all intents and purposes, I was about to have my diaper changed for the first time in twenty years, and it was going to be a doozy. “Baby Holly made a big messy,” she commented as she began to withdraw wipe after wipe and place them in a little pile on her knee for easy use. She had withdrawn at least twenty wipes before she was ready to tackle the mess, using two at a time to make sure to keep her own hands free of poo. I squeaked a little bit as she grabbed my legs from their spread position and clasped them together, using her forearm to shove them into an upright position. “Holly, will you be a good girl and help Miss Morgan by holding your legs for me?” The lollipop was all gone now so I felt no remorse in pulling my hand away from my mouth, reaching at my ankles and holding them as tightly as I could. Morgan kept her forearm anchored against the back of them just in case I let go, but me holding them took some extra weight off of her, which I was sure she appreciated. “Whew! Such a big stinky!” she made a big commotion as I felt the first wave of wipes run down my bottom, picking up big swathes of muddy mess and dishing them into the diaper, often disposing of the wipes she used immediately and going back for fresh ones. I could only imagine what my diaper looked like, and I would be lying if I didn’t have a screwed-up curiosity to see my first fully used diaper as an adult baby, especially if the clean-up was really that bad. Of course, I had no intention of making things any harder for Morgan, who seemed to be running through the baby wipes quite readily, having almost emptied the pack by the time it felt my bottom felt fresh and squeaky clean. Finally, Morgan pulled the diaper and the veritable mountain of mess and used wipes atop it away from my bottom as I felt the cool slick sensation of the changing mat. Morgan rolled up the diaper and placed it at the corner of the towel while she laid me back down and spread my legs, rubbing my privates with more baby wipes to clean up the pee mess. “This would go a lot smoother if you had bought the Huggies kind,” she commented. “They’re thicker and they smell better, like cucumber.” I hated the Huggies wipes exactly for that last reason. If they made thicker wipes that smelled as great as these ones, of course we wouldn’t be having this problem. “These ones smell the best,” I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest and looking away. Morgan stopped rubbing, smiling as she dropped the wipe on the mat between my legs and kneeled up over me with a knowing smile. “Oh, I get it now,” she smiled deviously, going back to the pack of wipes and pulling out a few more, wiping beyond my vagina and up under my potbelly and on it. “Holly likes to smell like a baby.” Though her words left me speechless, the burning sensation in my cheeks as they turned bright red let her know she had hit the mark. I whimpered a little bit as she ran the wipes up and down my belly and sides and legs and feet. I was getting turned on, but not in a sexual way. Morgan was triggering a regression in me, spoiling me and giving me my most infantile of desires. Eventually, my whimpering became a loud, childish “Agu!” as my thumb found my mouth and I squirmed on the changing mat, feeling warmth and comfort radiating and insulating me from every direction. Morgan’s pampering stopped as I looked up at her, her face of surprise bringing my adult self back. I blushed deeply with embarrassment, squeezing my eyes and trying to get up. Morgan was faster than me though, gently grabbing my ankle and urging me to lie back down. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” I told her. “It’s… when I really feel like a baby down to the very core, my voice kind of… gets babyish.” “I’ll say,” Morgan said, using the rest of the wipes to do a quick last clean-down before getting a new diaper. “You really sounded like a baby.” “You don’t think it’s weird?” I asked shyly. Morgan was defying all my expectations of this weekend, but I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t think this was weird, but Morgan smiled, tapping my nose with her finger. “I think it’s the perfect voice for the baby you,” she answered sweetly. “You sounded adorable.” “You’re not just teasing me?” I asked, remembering this was Morgan I was talking to. Could I really trust her as much as my heart wanted to? She had been such a good caretaker all morning to me and I wanted to believe this wasn’t just an act, but twenty years of sisterhood is something incredibly hard to ignore, even if the little side of me was ready to follow her around the rest of the weekend like a little duckling. “You really think it’s cute?” “I really think it’s cute,” she said again, as she lifted my legs and put a clean diaper underneath me. Again, she powdered me liberally, front and back and on the sides until every part of skin that would touch the diaper was freshly powdered. She taped the diaper up snugly, reaching up past the diaper when she was done and tickling my sides a little. “Really really really!” “Agu!” I let it out again as I looked at Morgan smile at me. “Thank you, Miss Morgan!” “You’re so very welcome, baby girl,” Morgan said, helping me to my feet as she gathered the old diaper and wipes into an empty plastic grocery bag. “Now let’s go upstairs and have our yummy lunch, doesn’t that sound good?” “Mmhmm! Ummy-nummy!” I giggled as I held her hand going up the stairs. Morgan did not take any chances this time once we got to the kitchen, sitting me in tight and putting the bib around my neck. The cloth placemat in front of me was replaced with a plastic one that Morgan must have dug up from the bottom of the placemat drawer because I hadn’t seen the alphabet placemat since we lived in Minnesota. I sat still for Morgan as she went out to the car to get the groceries left in the car in the urgency of my diaper change, getting rid of the old diaper at the same time and coming back with the McDonald’s and the groceries. I looked impatiently at the food as Morgan went to go wash her hands, bouncing up and down a little when Morgan finally came back and put the chicken nuggets and fries on a small plate. “Oh, look what I found,” Morgan said with a singsong voice, reaching into the bag slowly and pulling out a small plastic package excitedly. “Barbeque sauce!” Yay! They didn’t forget it! I clapped my hands as Morgan peeled off the wrapper and put the sauce on the plate, putting the straw in my little soda cup and placing my meal out in front of me. Tucked tightly into the table with the plastic placemat, Morgan did not hesitate to let me go at the finger foods myself this time. Fingers wriggling with anticipation, I dug in, intentionally being sloppy about the food and not afraid to stick my fingers in the sauce or get bits of food all over my face. Morgan laughed at me a little and I smiled back. The idea of me being twenty-three was so far beyond me as I sat there in my soft fluffy diaper, eating a happy meal with a big around my neck that I undoubtedly needed. “You really are the messy eater,” Morgan commented, wiping my face clean when she was done. I didn’t even squirm that much this time, as she took my bib off and helped me up. “Okay, Holly, ready for your nap?” “What about my toy?” I pouted a little, putting my finger back in the sauce and in my mouth, forcing Morgan to wipe my hand again. “You can have it when you wake up,” she told me, pulling my chair out. “Right now, it’s naptime.” If I was really two, I might have thrown a fit, but I treasured the idea of having a mandatory nap now that I knew how good they could be. I feigned a yawn as I nodded sleepily and took Morgan’s hand as she led me back downstairs. I didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the changing mat or the happy meal. Morgan would take care of everything. All I had to do was be a good girl for her. I couldn’t have been happier or more at peace. Her finding out about my ABDL tendencies may arguably be one of the best things that had ever happened to me. “Okay, kiddo,” she said, helping me into my bed, pulling my princess sheets and baby blanket over me. “All ready for sweet dreams?” “Uh-huh,” I yawned, for real this time. “Thank you, Miss Morgan. You’re the bestest babysitter I ever had.” “Silly girl,” she said, stroking my hair. “I’m the first babysitter you’ve ever had in at least a decade.” “But you’re still the bestest,” I stuck my tongue out, defiant yet playful. “Coming from you, Holly, that’s the nicest compliment I could ask for,” Morgan said, turning down the blinds in my room and closing the door. I turned on my side, closing my eyes. I thought sleep would come naturally to a baby girl like me, but I was wrong. I tossed and turned against the grey muted light coming in from the room. I wasn’t sleepy. I really was about to act like a two-year-old. Opening the door, I peeked out of the room, knowing I was supposed to be napping, but I couldn’t help it. Morgan was on the couch watching one of the Real Housewives shows when she heard the door next to her. Her head turned instinctively and her body rose upright just as quickly as it approached me. “Holly, what’s the matter? Are you not tired?” “Can’t sleep,” I muttered. “Do you have something that helps you sleep?” she asked sincerely. I thought about this and then thought of the cardboard box where I had hid the bed sheets and the baby blanket. I had forgotten all about Abba, my stuffed gray bunny with a black bowtie and a big fluffy white cottontail. “Abba! Remember my Abba? He’s in one of my boxes. He’ll help me.” “Okay,” Morgan said, ushering me back into my room and back into bed as she dug through the cardboard boxes of my baby things, producing Abba as if by magic. “Here he is!” “Abba!” I cried out with excited giggles and grabby hands. Morgan placed him carefully in my hands as I cuddled him close to me as Morgan tucked me back in. “Thank you, Miss Morgan!” “You’re welcome, baby girl,” she told me, stroking my hair softly. “Now let’s try to sleep. Miss Morgan will come wake you up in a few hours.” “Pwomise?” I said, sticking my pinky out of the covers towards Morgan. “Pinky promise,” Morgan indulged me, crossing her pinky with mine. I smiled as she got up and closed the door. I had no trouble falling to sleep as the lazy Saturday afternoon passed with me all snug in my bed, cuddling my Abba with my thumb in my mouth. I guess dreams really do come true. Chapter 6 There was a heaviness and warmth in the air. The light had dimmed considerably as I squirmed underneath my blanket. I turned my head over to find Abba had fallen off the bed sometime during my nap. My diaper crinkled as I moved and tried to turn over on my side. I felt so heavy, like I could sleep more, but I fought the urge. Fear was sinking in that I had already slept longer than I was supposed to. As I sat up, I felt a twinge in my bladder. The soda from earlier was ready to come out the other end. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at my diaper as I put my hand on it and relaxed. It wasn’t easy to overcome the mental block of potty training, not that it ever was, but the thought of getting my diaper changed again gave me the release as I felt the plastic backing of the diaper get warmer to the touch on my palm. I sat there for a moment, taking in the late afternoon atmosphere as I patted the front of my diaper playfully, noticing how much heavier it felt. The weight made me feel impish as I climbed down out of my bed and toddled over to my bedroom door to open it. Peeking out, I could see Morgan wasn’t there anymore. I walked out, wondering if she was upstairs, before my eyes were drawn to the pale orange light shining through the high-seated windows to my left. I could already see the sun making its descent. I had slept late. Fearful that I would miss anymore of my special time with Morgan, I hurried to the staircase, walking before realizing it would be more appropriate to crawl. I smiled, getting on my hands and knees as I banged noisily as I slammed against the staircase with, clattering up the staircase, when I got to the top. I was ready to get back on my feet to open it when it opened for me. “There you are,” Morgan said with a kind, sweet voice, kneeling down and helping me to my feet at the top by my armpits. “Little Miss Sleepyhead finally woke up!” I wanted to be a good girl, but I remembered at the sight of Morgan and the clock past her reading 4:36 helped me remember the promise she made to me before I took my nap and pouted instead. “You pwomised you’d wake me up!” I whined, petulantly stamping my foot. “I know, sweetie,” Morgan said, smoothing my hair out from being all over the place from tossing and turning in bed, not at all upset with me for my attitude. “I did try, but you wouldn’t budge. You were just too sleepy.” I wanted to act like a real toddler and stay mad, but it was hard. Morgan’s soft voice and comforting touch made it so hard to stay mad at her. I pouted a little bit, though I probably wasn’t very convincing. “Can I have my happy meal toy now, pwease?” “Of course, honey,” Morgan cooed as she walked over to the counter and held out an object wrapped in thin plastic. “Here you go.” Eagerly, I ripped at the plastic and threw it on the ground holding my prize in front of me; an adorable little stuffed elephant – hot pink with purple fuzzy fair on its head and for a tail. “Yay!” I giggled as I ran around the living room with my new friend. “I’m gonna name you Twinkle!” I exclaimed proudly. Morgan picked up my trash and looked at the plastic package intently. “Holly, it says here his name is Peanut.” “No!” I announced loudly. “Her name is Twinkle!” Morgan sighed, letting me do as I pleased as she threw away the plastic packing in the trash can before she headed over to me. “What’s this I see?” she said, catching me while I was running in a circle, patting the back of my diaper in her arms. “Did someone do a little something in her diaper during her nap?” “Nooooo,” I squirmed in Morgan’s hold. I wasn’t really lying, because I didn’t do it during my nap. “I think someone did do something,” Morgan said, turning me around to face her as she pulled back the front of my diaper, releasing the waistband with a snap. “Yup yup, I was right. Baby Holly sprung a leak. Did she do anything else?” The back of my diaper was pulled back and Morgan sighed with relief to see there was nothing there other than a little more pee. “Just a sprinkle,” she confirmed, patting my bottom. “What do you say we get you a new diaper, hmm? Would you like that?” I giggled and nodded as Morgan told me to stay exactly where I was as she went downstairs to get my changing pad, powder, and a fresh diaper. She didn’t bother getting the wipes, as there were still the ones from up here. Spreading out the changing pad in the wide-open living room, I took her hand as she laid me down. Surrounded by so many rising windows and in full view of the front door, I felt more self-conscious than my first diaper change. I squirmed a little, anxious but afraid of all the windows and doors in full view, even though I knew it would be a one in a million chance that anyone would walk by or be able to see me inside. “Holly, be a good girl,” Morgan cautioned me, as she rolled me over into position more than once due to my squirming. “You’re not going to give me a hard time, are you?” I looked aside, whimpering, still squirming. “Okay, fussy baby,” Morgan stated as she reached into her pocket and pulled out my butterfly pacifier. “Will this make you feel better?” I looked at my pacifier longingly as Morgan moved it closer and pressed it into my mouth. Instinctively, I began to suck and nurse on the rubber soother as I became a little more complacent. “Good girl,” Morgan praised me as I nursed as she untaped my diaper and pulled it down flush on the changing pad. “Upsy-daisy,” she told me as she clasped my ankles and pushed my legs up wide. Remembering my last change, I reached up to be a good girl and hold my legs back. This was not lost on Morgan. “Good girl!” she cooed loudly, tapping me on my nose before she opened the pack of baby wipes. “You’re making this so easy for Miss Morgan.” I closed my eyes, listening to Morgan’s sweet words and the loving, babyish sensations – all the smells, all the sounds, and all the feels – of having my diaper changed. Though I had changed my diaper countless times, between this time and the last time Morgan had changed me, I knew for positive that there was something so much more comforting, secure, and kind about being changed by another person. Morgan smiled as she ran the baby wipes in between my legs and down my bottom. “Good girl holding still,” she told me as she cleaned me up and made me smell so very good. “Yeah, we’re almost done. Pee pee diapers are so much easier to clean up than poopy ones.” “Mith Mogan,” I babbled through my paci. “Wath ma oopy diaph one uf yaw top ten?” “Top 20, maybe,” Morgan replied, pulling out the old diaper and putting a fresh one underneath my clean bottom. “What do I gotta do to make a Top 10?” I asked, spitting my paci out on my chest, curious as to what my sister would consider a complete disaster of a diaper change if a 23-year-old’s bottom caked in her mess wasn’t the worst she has seen. Morgan laughed, rolling her eyes, likely in remembrance of some of the truly terrifying changes she’d had to perform. She spread my legs and shaking the bottle of baby powder over my pink parts as she answered. “You don’t want to know, kiddo. Trust me, you really don’t.” I put my pacifier back in my mouth, smiling up at Morgan, who smiled back at me as she taped my new diaper up, rolling me over off the changing mat, patting me on the bottom to let me know she was done. “There you go, all nice and clean,” Morgan said as she cleaned her hands off with a baby wipe before taking my wet Bambino outside to the garbage can. I lay on my side on the white carpet as I looked at all my changing supplies. Reaching over, I got a mischievous idea and grabbed at the baby wipes, pulling them out one by one around me. I didn’t get very far when Morgan caught me and hurried over to take them away from me. “What are you doing, Holly?” she scolded me, picking up the discarded wipes and the remainder of the package, along with the rest of my diapering supplies. I giggled, not sure what to say and tried to let childish innocence be the answer. Morgan gave me a knowing eye as she got all my things together. “Silly girl,” Morgan chided me as she took everything downstairs, coming back up and heading straight for the laundry room. “Let’s see if we have something you can play with that won’t make a big mess for Miss Morgan to clean up.” I laid down on the carpet in Morgan’s absence, picking at the fuzzy carpeting, pinching at it and picking it up off the ground and letting it go, doing it over and over while I heard rustling sounds coming from the laundry room on the other side of the house. Hearing the closing of cabinet doors, I looked up to see Morgan coming back to the living room with a familiar looking plastic bin with a dingy white lid. “Look what I found!” Morgan announced happily, shaking the box. The sound of rolling and rattling objects intrigued me as she put it on the floor and peeled off the lid with a snapping sound. I peered in, my eyes lighting up at the assortment of loose washable markers and crayons of all different colors and wear. Scattered beneath the coloring items was a variety of different coloring books featuring Barbie, Minnie Mouse, The Little Mermaid, and Hello Kitty! “The art box!” I squealed, reaching in and grabbing handfuls of markers and crayons. “Mom and Dad kept it?” “It seems they’ve kept a lot of things,” Morgan told me as she picked up what I was spilling, amidst my choosing of which markers and crayons I would use. “Maybe they’re saving it for when they have grandkids.” “Maybe,” I said in a small, uninterested voice, far more concerned with finding the right page in the Little Mermaid book, settling on a picture of Ariel showing Flounder her treasures. I took a jungle green crayon and began to color in some of the rust and water-damaged human objects in Ariel’s grotto. I knew it was more appropriate to color outside the lines, but I wanted to make the picture look as pretty as possible. Now that I was distracted by the coloring book, Morgan stood up from hovering over me and took a seat on the couch. She turned on the TV to some movie on cable, using it as background noise for us while she indulged in a book of her own. I chose my colors carefully, mostly sticking to crayons as they had varying shades that would match the dark shadowy nature of the grotto far better than bright greens and blues that the markers came in. Morgan would look down on me every once in a while to see I was doing okay and not drawing on the carpet. Even if I was in the position of a two-year-old, I wasn’t stupid enough to cause damage that would have to be explained when Mom and Dad got back tomorrow. As the sun set lower in the sky and the movie on TV ended, Morgan closed her book, standing up and kneeling down over me. “Wow!” Morgan exclaimed. I jumped a little, not noticing her next to me as I was putting the finishing touches on the page I was drawing, the third one I had made it through of the book. “Holly, that’s such a pretty picture! You’re so talented!” My hand stopped as the crayon trembled in my hand and my heart sank as I looked down at my work from the afternoon. How long had it been since I had drawn just for the sake of drawing? I stared down at my colored pages with a sense of longing and melancholy. “I guess…” I managed to say, crying out passively to Morgan in light of her praise. Morgan crouched down next to me, placing her hand on my shoulder comfortingly as I lay there on my belly. I turned my head to face Morgan, my lips trembling as I remembered things I had promised myself I wouldn’t remember. In all the excitement of remembering what it was to lay down in the living room and color the afternoon away, to do it because it made me happy and for no other reason. “What’s the matter?” Morgan asked me, and for everything she had done for me today, I didn’t feel afraid to tell her truthfully. I put the crayon down, pushing myself up and sitting on the floor against the coffee table. I pursed my lips, feeling the pressure in my eyes as I thought back to my late days in college. “I just… I forgot how much fun drawing was.” “What do you mean?” Morgan asked, sitting down Indian-style across from me. “I just…” I took a deep breath before I continued. “I don’t…” “Was there a reason you stopped drawing?” Morgan asked, looking at me seriously. It wasn’t a big surprise to her or anyone in my family that I stopped drawing halfway through college. It was part of why I ended up with a liberal arts degree when I had been so focused on my artwork up until then, but my second semester hurt me in a way I wasn’t able to get over. “Someone saw my work and suggested I start putting it online,” I explained after a moment’s hesitation. “I wasn’t expecting a lot of praise, but some of the things people told me… it was like they took joy in insulting my work. I didn’t want to keep drawing. I didn’t think I’d ever be good enough. There were so many people better than me and I didn’t think I’d ever be good enough to match up to them.” “Oh, Holly,” Morgan sighed softly, putting her hand gently on my cheek. “You can’t listen to people like that. You have to believe in yourself. “You say that like it’s so easy,” I whimpered, feeling the tears coming on. “ You don’t think I tried that? You don’t think I tried to ignore them? I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.” “Holly,” Morgan cooed my name as she crawled over to me and pulled me against her in a tight hug. “Holly, it’s okay. You really do have a lot of talent and if those idiots online can’t see that, that’s their problem. You should draw again, if only for yourself and the way it makes you feel.” I was bawling against her shoulder now, clutching tightly to her blouse as I drenched it with my tears. “It’s been so long, Morgan… since I drew, since anyone told me I was any good at anything. Thank you.” “Shhhh,” she hushed me, stroking my hair softly as she held me and let me cry on her. “You should never be bullied into giving up something that makes you happy, be that your drawing or your diapers. If it makes you happy, that’s all that matters.” I held onto my sister for a number of minutes before my sobs dissipated into soft sniffles. When I felt strong enough that I could let go, I slowly backed away from my sister’s embrace. She opened her arms just as slowly as I looked at her, my eyes raw and puffy once again as she wiped residue of my tears from the corners of my eyes with the back of her finger. “It’s okay, Holly,” she told me again with a comforting smile. “Everything will be okay.” I wanted to believe her, but more than my desire to be comforted by Morgan was my even stronger confusion why she was acting like this. This went beyond her whole “Miss Morgan” persona. This felt like she was trying to connect to me, sister to sister, someone who had never shown any interest or desire to do it up until today. “Holly?” Morgan interrupted my thoughts, looking at me with the same dire gaze I was giving her, but before I could open my mouth, Morgan laughed, raising her hand and waving off the interjection. “Never mind, it’s nothing.” No, something was most definitely going on with Morgan. Maybe she felt now that I was opening up to her that she could open up to me about something, but what, I could not possibly know. Was it possible that my sister, who rubbed her perfection and superiority in my face for nearly a decade, was not as perfect as I thought she was? Before I could ask her what was troubling her, she got to her feet, looking towards the kitchen and letting out a fake gasp to offset the mood we had established. “Oh, look at the time, I need to make dinner. We can’t have your tummy rumbling, can we?” I looked up at the clock to see it was a little after 6:30. I got to my own feet, following after her but she shooed me back to the living room. “Why don’t you stay in the other room and watch some TV?” she recommended. “Miss Morgan needs to cook dinner and she can’t have you around the stove.” Feeling bad that Morgan didn’t want to talk to me any longer, I hurried back to the living room. Before she could say anything, I presented her with the three pages of the coloring book I had illustrated from top to bottom with my name scrawled out in big black letters at the bottom, crude and aimless, like the two-year-old I was to Morgan. I looked at her silently, letting my eyes plead for me for her to know they were for her. “Oh, sweetie,” Morgan said, taking the pictures from me and hugging me. “Thank you. I love them.” Morgan let me go to walk over to the refrigerator where she took some spare real estate magnets and used them to hang the pictures proudly. I beamed my approval and hugged Morgan back before heading back to the family room. While Morgan was cooking a spaghetti dinner, I would often find myself ignoring the cartoons on the television and looked over at Morgan. She seemed to be lost in a deep, sad thought. I wanted to say something, to reach out to her, but I doubt it was something she could talk about with a two-year-old. Maybe when I grew up, she would tell me. Maybe… Chapter 7 The spaghetti didn’t take long to make. Morgan just boiled the noodles and heated a jar of Prego. When it was ready, she dished out a healthy serving into a blue plastic bowl and doused it with a generous serving of sauce. “Is dinner ready?” I called from the living room, not bothering to move. “Just about,” she said as I heard the sounds of the bowl tipping around on the counter and what sounded like a knife cutting along the inside of the bowl, over and over again. Morgan filled my sippy cup up with milk again and brought my meal to the table, pulling out my chair. “And ready. Holly, would you like to come to the table?” I pretended to have some difficulty getting up off the couch, purposefully refusing to shift my center of gravity as I strained to get to my feet. “Miss Morgan,” I whined loudly. “I’m stuck!” “Alright, alright,” Morgan hushed me as she walked over to the living room, taking both my hands with a gentle smile. Her eyes showed no sense of any hidden anxiety. I smiled just as much, hiding my own concern for Morgan. I wanted to say something and dinner seemed like the right time, where I’d have Morgan’s undivided attention. Taking Morgan’s hand, I followed her to the kitchen where she helped me into my seat, pushing my chair in and tying my bib back around my neck. I could smell the spaghetti sauce from the kitchen, but watching the steam rise out of my bowl, I took a large whiff with a big grin. Morgan sat down to my right with her meal, the same as mine but hers was on a ceramic plate with adult silverware and an actual glass full of milk. “It smells good, doesn’t it?” “Mmhmm,” I sighed in agreement as I picked up my airplane spoon and dug into my bowl, using the spoon more like a shovel. To say Morgan had cut the spaghetti was an understatement. She had practically diced it with pieces small enough they could all fit on the tiny spoon. “Um, Morgan,” I asked as I readied to take my first bite. “I wanted to ask, is something…” “Oh, Holly, no,” Morgan interrupted me, prying the spoon away from me. “No, honey, it’s far too messy to do it yourself. You’ll get it all over.” What in the world? I thought as I held tight to the spoon as little bits of noodles and sauce dribbled off the utensil onto the plastic placemat. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to keep me from talking or if she genuinely didn’t want me to feed myself, but I knew I did not want her jamming that spoon down my throat a second time and I held tight to that little spoon, my pleasant demeanor becoming grumpy again. “Holly,” Morgan tried to reason with me. “You’re been a good girl all afternoon. You don’t want to be a bad girl again, do you? Bad girls get punished. You don’t want to be punished, do you?” I hesitated, but held tight to the spoon all the same. “I wanna do it!” I argued, pulling back. It wasn’t unreasonable for a two-year-old to want to feed herself. Morgan had to have known this from her job at the daycare. “I can do it!” I could see the look in Morgan’s eyes getting far more stern and cold. She wasn’t going to give me an inch with this. “Holly, I’m going to give you to the count of three,” she warned me, my fingers not budging even a little from the spoon. “One, two…” I let go, but we both miscalculated how tightly the two of us had been pulling at the spoon. When I let go, Morgan fell back a little, as her face was splattered with little drops of spaghetti sauce and noodles. She was stunned, unsure what had happened as she reached a hand to her face to confirm what had just happened. The look on her face of complete disbelief that the sister she had told was to be treated like a toddler had acted like a toddler; I couldn’t help myself and started giggling mercilessly at Morgan. My cheeks were burning red. I couldn’t stop the laughter, even though I was terrified she wouldn’t find it very funny. Eventually, Morgan winced, squeezing her eyes shut as her awestruck lips curled up into a smile that shook with the suppression of her own laughter. “You little devil!” she laughed as she wiped her face off with her napkin. “See? This is why I have to feed you. Now hold still.” I didn’t want to be fed, but at the same time, I didn’t want to push my luck any farther. I tried to remember the rhythm as Morgan fed me spoonful after spoonful of my dinner, all the while chiding me for my actions, and all the while silencing any defense I had with another flyby of the airplane into the hanger of my mouth. “Bad baby,” she gently scolded me, amused more than upset. “You got Miss Morgan all dirty. You think it’s so funny, don’t you? Well, you’re not one to talk, Miss Messy Face. Look at all that spaghetti you’re getting all over your face and your bib. I don’t know how you could get any messier. I had a few ideas, but right now I was plenty content in tilting my head in just such a way that my food got on my cheeks, my nose, my chin, and all over my bib with even some on my clothes. Morgan remained patient with me as I would be a good girl every now and then and eat, but when she missed, I would always smile and giggle in such a way that I knew she couldn’t get mad at someone who was just acting her supposed age. Morgan’s dinner had got cold long ago and would need heating up, but I was going to make sure it waited. Once I could hear the spoon scraping against the bowl as Morgan scooped out another bite for me, I made my move. As Morgan moved the spoon towards my mouth, I smiled a big mischievous grin and reached at my bowl. With the spoon precariously placed in Morgan’s hand, she didn’t have time to pull it away before I dumped it on my head. Morgan looked at me aghast as the sauce ran down my forehead over the bridge of my nose. “All done,” I announced proudly as the lukewarm sauce seeped into my hair. “I can go pway now?” Morgan looked like she was about ready to cry as she put a hand over her mouth and then over her forehead, looking at me as if I was criminally insane. “Play?” she repeated in disbelief. “Oh, you can go play.” I got up when Morgan grabbed my hand holding me back. “You can play in the bathtub while I wash all that food out of your hair.” “No!” I stomped, noodle bits falling out of the bowl and onto my face and the floor to Morgan’s dismay. “Go play in the living room!” Morgan had to have known I was joking as I stood there, waiting to see how she would react. Oh, how good it felt to give her exactly what she wanted out of today on my terms. Sighing in defeat, she got up and undid my bib, placing it clean side down on the table as she walked away from her own meal, which would surely have to wait now. “Come on, Little Miss Messy, it’s bath time and you know it.” Before we even dared to walk across the carpet, Morgan took me over to the sink, pushing my head down and removing the bowl. Turning on the faucet, she washed as much of the damage out of my hair as I squirmed and moaned about letting me go, even though I knew there was no going anywhere after what I had done. Once Morgan felt I was suitable to walk across the carpet, she rubbed my hair with an old dishtowel and wrapped it around my neck to keep any stray bits of food from falling on the carpet. Carefully, she walked me not downstairs, but across the living room and up the stairs to our parents’ bedroom. “Why are we going in here?” I asked, knowing there was a perfectly fine shower downstairs. “You really need to ask?” Morgan asked. “Mom and Dad have the really big whirlpool tub. It’s the only one in the house that will fit a baby as big as you.” I blushed as Morgan led me across the master bedroom to the bathroom on the side. The first thing I could see on the left was the enormous whirlpool tub. I looked at it excitedly. “I’m gonna get to take a real bath in there? Do I get bubbles?” “Of course,” Morgan said, positioning me on the mint green bathmat. “Now I want you to stay right here and not move a muscle. I’ll get your things and we can get you undressed.” “Um, Morgan,” I interjected. “I’m okay bathing myself.” Of course I should have realized how Morgan would have responded, but I just didn’t feel comfortable about being bathed. I mean, a diaper change was one thing, but I didn’t want to have someone else’s hands all over me from head to toe, laying there under the bubbles in nothing but my bare skin. I didn’t care if it was just my sister. I didn’t want to be bathed. “Is that so?” Morgan said, looking me up and down. “And what would make you think I would trust a diaper-messing, thumb-sucking, spaghetti-splattered toddler to properly bathe herself? I can’t trust you one bit, baby girl. Don’t worry, that’s what Miss Morgan is here for. All you’re going to have to do is relax.” Relaxing was not something I was capable of as Morgan walked to the door as I reached out towards her, calling her name with panic in my voice. “Morgan, I don’t want to do this. Please just let me do this part on my own.” “Holly, it’s just me,” Morgan tried to comfort me to no avail, even teasing me for being as nervous about something as basic as a bath. “What, are you afraid you’ll like it.” “No!” I huffed angrily, stomping my foot down so hard it shook the toothbrushes in their holders and the various medicines and makeups on the counter. Morgan looked at me with a cold glare that reflected she was not going to put up with my attitude any longer. I backed away a bit, my lower lip trembling in a whimper. “I just… I don’t like being touched by other people.” “You didn’t seem to mind when I changed your diaper,” Morgan commented. “What’s so different about that?” And I really had no good answer. A feeble “because” dribbled out of the corner of my mouth, but Morgan was smiling, knowing I knew she was right, but I wasn’t fully naked during my change. Just the thought of being naked in the tub, vulnerable as I could possibly be, made me feel a little nervous. I stood there like a good girl, knowing I had pushed Morgan’s buttons as far as they would go for the time being as she gathered a fresh snow-white towel, a matching washcloth, my baby bath and baby shampoo, and supplies to diaper me once I was clean. “Okay,” she said, placing all the items on the toilet seat. “Now I’m going to ask you once, and I want the truth because once that tub is full it stays full – do you have to go potty?” “No,” I mumbled, holding my arms across my chest. “Holly,” Morgan asked me again. “Do you have to go potty?” “I don’t have to potty,” I affirmed to Morgan’s satisfaction. Pleased with my response, she turned the tub water on, checking the temperature then waving me over to check it to make sure it was okay. “A little hotter,” I asked until it felt just right. I pulled my hand away as Morgan began to undress me from head to toe. As I stood in the bathtub, watching the water fill up and Morgan add a generous dose of baby bath to the water to make it bubble up, I held myself, feeling so cold and exposed. “Just a little longer,” Morgan said, as ‘a little longer’ began to feel like an eternity. I danced on my tiptoes, wanting so badly to immerse myself through the fragrant bubbly surface on top into the steamy warm water, wanting to feel it in every inch of my skin. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, Morgan turned the water off and took my hand, holding it tight as I navigated myself into the tub. The water was just the way I liked it, so warm that if it were any hotter it would burn my skin. I let the heat pierce my skin and warm me to the bone, slowly, easily with Morgan holding my hand all the way, lowering myself into the tub and letting my whole body become engulfed in the wonderfully intense heat of the bath. I let out a sigh of bliss as I sank deeper into the tub, so deep my chin touched the surface of the water. I closed my eyes for a moment to take in the sensation before I felt a presence enter the water other than my own. I opened my eyes to see Morgan, dousing the washcloth into the water and gathering bubbles, taking my arm and running the cloth up and down it, even getting in between my fingers. I flinched for a moment before Morgan looked at me cautiously. “Holly, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” she coaxed as she did the same to my other arm. “Remember when I changed your diaper how much you liked that? It’s just like that now, just a bathtub instead of a tub of wipes.” I hesitated to make the comparison, but I tried to relax. I knew Morgan would punish me if I was any more difficult, so I closed my eyes, letting Morgan run the washcloth over me from head to toe, making sure I was squeaky clean in every nook and cranny. As the washcloth moved up and down my skin, I began to giggle from how much it tickled, and Morgan only encouraged this with her words. “Yeah, the messy baby’s getting all nice and clean, isn’t she?” she cooed. “Baby Holly loves getting clean and smelling good. Yes, she does. Miss Morgan’s gonna make sure even inch of your skin shines – your cute little toes, your pretty legs, you pudgy little baby belly, every single last spot.” Just like before, I lost myself in the sensation of being bathed like a baby and Morgan’s sweet words, returning to my high-pitched babbling state as I kicked and splashed a little, my body giving way to every little reflex as my body twitched and shivered, making little splashes on the surface of the water, lapping up against the sides of the tub and getting Morgan’s blouse a little damp. “Now now, who’s a good baby?” Morgan soothed me as she finished washing me down. “Let’s not make a mess. You’re doing so well. Miss Morgan is so proud of you.” I beamed over such small and infantile praise as if I had won a major award, while Morgan held my head back under the water until it came up around my ears, running her hands through my brunette hair, she made sure to get it nice and wet before opening the baby shampoo and lathering a large dollop through my dark locks. I cooed softly, something I would often suppress when getting my hair washed at a salon, but here in Morgan’s care, I let my childish glee for being taken care of show. “Yeah, someone’s not fussy anymore, no no no,” Morgan talked to me like I was the toddler I truly felt I was. “Okie dokie, let’s get you under the faucet,” she helped motion me around towards the large faucet on the other end as she turned it on, making sure it was a little cooler than I liked so it didn’t burn my scalp, but not cold enough that I would thrash. Gently, she scrubbed my hair clean before turning the faucet off. “Ready to get out?” she asked, holding up a big fluffy towel. I wanted to say ‘yes’ but there was something else I wanted to try. Pulling up the drain, I sat there, constantly telling Morgan no as I felt the water drain away from my skin. I always loved this feeling as a child and experiencing it again, the enjoyment had not faded in the slightest. As the water pooled around my bottom, nearly drained, I felt a chill. Morgan noticed me shiver and quickly wrapped the towel around me, even though I was still sitting in the tub. “Okay, time to get out,” she announced. “We can’t have you catching a cold now, can we?” “No,” I answered sincerely and happily as Morgan as she dried me off and combed my baby-soft hair. I sucked my thumb in front of her, smiling and trying to look cute. She smiled back, undistracted until I was dry enough to get dressed. “Ready for a clean diaper?” Morgan asked, patting the diaper on the toilet seat. I nodded as Morgan helped me lie down on the bathmat, raising my bottom and putting the new diaper beneath me, and then got the lotion and powder. “Gotta make sure your skin stays nice and soft,” she teased me as she poured a decent amount of lotion between her hands, rubbing it together between her fingers so it would be nice and warm when she rubbed it into my skin. I babbled incessantly, kicking just slightly as Morgan cooed to me and continued to tell me what a good girl I was, reaching next for the powder and giving me a liberal helping on my front and rear before taping me up nice and snug. “Alright, now let’s get you downstairs so we can put on your jammies, then it’s off to bed.” “Bed?” I whimpered, shocked by the sudden realization. “But it’s not bedtime.” “It’s almost eight,” Morgan commented, tapping my nose playfully. “And that’s when all good little girls go night night.” I pouted, but knowing I didn’t have much of a say, I followed Morgan downstairs to my bedroom. I didn’t have any jammies suitable of a girl my age just yet. That was the next thing I planned to buy, so Morgan made due with an oversized T-shirt before tucking me in with Abba. “Oh,” I stammered, remembering what I had forgotten from last night. “My nightlight. It’s in the top cardboard box, can you get it?” “Sure thing, baby girl,” Morgan patted my head as she plugged it in, tucking me again tightly under the covers. “Sweet dreams. I’ll see you in the morning.” “Wait,” I said again, as Morgan turned around. She seemed a little more annoyed this time. I think she thought I was going to play that game where I keep asking for things to stay up late, but I knew that never worked. “Just one more thing, really, just one.” “What is it?” Morgan sighed, sitting down by my bed. “A glass of water? Check for monsters?” “A story?” I asked with a small, hopeful voice. Morgan had to remember we never went to bed as a little girl without story time, and seeing the soft smile upon her face, I knew she was on the same page as me, but her smile didn’t last long. “Sweetie, I’d love to tell you a story, but I don’t remember many off the top of my head,” Morgan sighed, stroking my hair gently as she spoke. “Was there a story you had you wanted me to tell you?” “Why don’t you make one up?” I asked, not realizing or considering what a toll that would be on Morgan out of the blue. Morgan though looked at me thoughtfully, closing her eyes and thinking about exactly what she wanted to say. She opened her eyes, smiling at me, and continuing to run her fingers through my smooth clean hair. “Alright, I have one. It’s the story of the two princesses Elizabeth and Alice.” Elizabeth and Alice, I thought as Morgan began. Those are our middle names. Looking into Morgan’s empathetic gaze, I knew to lay still and listen as Morgan began the story: “Once upon a time, there were two princesses, Elizabeth and Alice. Elizabeth was the elder and was heir to the throne while Alice was the younger. When Alice was born, it was said the princess Elizabeth could not stop gushing with joy that she had a sister who she could teach and become best friends with, but then something horrible happened. “A spell was placed on the princess Elizabeth. What’s more, nobody realized the spell had been placed upon her, not even Elizabeth herself. Because nobody knew the spell had been placed or even how, nobody knew to do anything, not even Elizabeth. What they did notice was that Elizabeth grew more and more withdrawn and would often lock herself away in her room. “She yelled at anyone that tried to talk to her. The king and queen were worried, but Alice most especially, as she wanted to be friends with her elder sister. As the years passed, the spell continued to hold and Elizabeth continued to shut herself off from anyone and everyone, taking solace in writing and drawing to express herself, but rarely if ever sharing it with the king and queen or Alice. “By now everyone knew there was something wrong with the elder princess, and the king and queen began to wonder if she would be ready to take the throne when the time came. They began to focus on Alice, who had been doing her best in the face of Elizabeth’s lack of responsibility to be the more responsible sister and more suitable heir. It was not a choice she made willingly, but the king and queen did not want to see what happened to Elizabeth happen to Alice. “Elizabeth remained sealed off in the castle alone. One day, Alice tried, knowing it would be in vain, to reach out again to Elizabeth. Years of constantly being ignored and yelled at had left Alice angry with Elizabeth and her attempts to reach her had become more and more pointed. Alice didn’t intend this, but she wanted to reach Elizabeth, and if that was the only way, so be it. “Elizabeth again ignored Alice until Alice opened Elizabeth’s door. It was then that Alice found Elizabeth not as her elder sister, but as a child. The spell was keeping Elizabeth a child and making her unable to tell anyone. It would ensure she could never become queen one day. Elizabeth snapped into a rage that someone knew her shameful secret and attacked her sister, but though Alice was shocked, now that she knew what spell had been cast upon her dear sister, she knew there must be some way to break it. “She looked upon Elizabeth, watching as she cried and sobbed like a child in her room, all alone. Alice knew Elizabeth had not wanted to be alone, she could see it in her sister’s eyes, so Alice approached Elizabeth, not to hurt her or shame her for being bound by the spell, but to help her bear with it, maybe even overcome it. Alice stayed by her elder sister’s side, taking care of her. Elizabeth was so happy, she showed a great deal of admiration and love for Alice for the first time since the spell had been cast upon her. Alice knew if she continued to be there for Elizabeth, maybe one day the spell would be lifted.” Morgan kept running her hand through my hair well after she had stopped telling the story, looking at me with understanding and sympathy. I was wrong. All this time, I was wrong. All this time I thought Morgan hated me, and all this time I thought she never loved me, and I was wrong. I was so very, very wrong. I could feel the scalding tears running down my cheeks as I tried to wipe them away, but my hands were tucked tightly under the covers. Morgan reached out the back of her index finger, gathering the tears gently. “Morgan,” I sniffled, knowing the story was not yet over, knowing that it was still yet to be written. “What if the spell can’t be lifted? What if… what if the princess doesn’t necessarily want it to be lifted?” Morgan leaned over, hugging me tightly around the neck. “Then I’m sure Alice would stay by Elizabeth’s side. If the spell can’t be broken, maybe she can help make it manageable. That’s what I think she’d do.” No, I thought, the tears coming again as I fought against the covers, pulling them out to hug Morgan back. That’s what you did do. That’s what you had been trying to do and all I did was shut you out. It wasn’t just about wanting to be a baby again, it was everything… I thought I would only get hurt if I tried to open up. I wanted to do everything alone, and I hurt everyone; Mom, Dad, and you. “I’m sorry,” I managed to get out through the maelstrom of my guilt and sorrow. “I’m sorry I said you never loved me. I didn’t know how you felt. I didn’t both to ask. I…” “Shhhhh,” Morgan hushed me with a single finger placed against my lips. “It’s okay, baby girl. Now you know, and you can always remember, I’m here for you whenever you need me.” I nodded softly, snuggling into my covers. “Will you be here in the morning?” “I will,” Morgan stroked my hair a final time. “Now close your eyes and have sweet dreams, and don’t worry about a thing.” I nodded as I closed my eyes and rolled over on my side facing the wall. Morgan shut the door as my nightlight buzzed and filled my room with a gentle blue glow. Comforted that I wasn’t alone, that I didn’t have anything to fear, I began to drift off to sleep. The door opened slightly as I was in between the waking world and the dream world. I wasn’t even sure if it was real, but the voice was distinctly Morgan’s. “Holly,” the words drifted lazily in my mind. “Do you think I’d be a good mommy?” Mommy? I thought, I didn’t understand the question, or if it was real. I struggled to open my eyes, to turn over and see if Holly had asked me that or if I had dreamed it, but the embrace of the sandman was pulling me deeper and deeper from consciousness. I only heard Morgan’s voice once more, and again, I couldn’t tell if I had imagined it or if she had actually said it, but it sounded like I had heard it once before. “Holly is such a good little baby.” I had heard Morgan say that before, not today, but sometime before… when… I searched my mind as I entered the land of dreams, a land that could show me anything I wanted, even things I had long forgotten. Chapter 8 A blinding white light broke the darkness, as intense and brilliant as anything I had ever seen. It pierced through the corners of my closed eyes, the flashes of white making my eyes flicker. As the light forced me awake, I could feel a strange sensation all over my body, something shameful and disgusting. I cringed as I placed a hand down on what felt like a bed, but it felt different than my own bed. My hand lay flat on damp sheets that let off a terrible odor. Moving my legs, feeling the slogging sensation of wet denim between them, I realized where they had come from. I was apparently not wearing diapers. I didn’t like the feeling at all as I lay in the wet bed and I squirmed, opening my eyes. This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t even my room. I looked at my hand atop the wet sheets. I wasn’t even sure it was my hand. It was so little, so delicate and unmarked without the appearance of hard knuckles. They were the hands of a young child. The hands were attached to smooth little arms that ran up my body and under a purple T-shirt with a picture of Tweety Bird on it. As I moved, I realized the back of the shirt was also wet. I was under a set of plain sky blue sheets, dark blue all around me from my accident. There was no comforter. It was too hot for a comforter, but it wasn’t nearly this hot when I went to bed. Where was I? Who was I? I tried to move, but couldn’t, and I soon realized why I wasn’t terrified of what I was seeing or who I was. I was watching a memory. I listened to the fan buzz in the room, turning on a swivel back and forth across the room, making my fine hair, which was blonde back then, tremble as it blew on me in regular intervals. I recognized this room. I was right that it wasn’t mine, but I wasn’t sure whose it was. My head lifted up and I got my first good look at the room. It was very plain with walls painted yellow and dingy white furniture, bare of any real sign of a human presence. The bed was a twin bed, but my feet didn’t even reach halfway down the mattress and the sole pillow in its matching pillowcase was nearly the size of my entire body. I looked to my right at the window and saw what I thought was the afternoon sunlight blazing into the room. My adult mind was able to remember this place from these details. I didn’t know her name, but she was one of the people who Morgan and I went to daycare at her house when we lived in Arizona. Before I could piece together anymore of where I was and in what time, my body moved, jerking around as if it were terrified, getting on my knees over the large wet spot where I had wet the bed. I didn’t know what to do but kneel there with a feeling that could only be described as true horror. I felt dread in my heart as footsteps came upstairs, one by one, booming like the thunder of an approaching storm, getting louder and more terrifying than the last. Quickly, I threw myself over the bed and pulled the sheets over me as the large foreboding door to the left of me opened and someone walked in. I couldn’t remember the faces of any of the people who babysat me or whose houses I went to for daycare, and the dream did not compensate for that. The face was a misshapen blur, with what I could make out to be poufy brown hair, possibly a perm. I peeked at the door with my eyes open the slightest, thinking they were closed enough that she wouldn’t suspect I was awake, before I knew that never worked. I was hoping she would not notice I was awake, that she would let me sleep and that I could figure that out, but I felt a hand, large and, though gentle, so much more forceful than I had prepared for. I didn’t move an inch, playing dead as it were, but adults are not as easily fooled as kids want to believe, and this babysitter was among them. I couldn’t hear her voice clearly, a garbled amalgamation of various voices of the past, but I could understand the words that registered in my mind. “Come on, Holly,” it called my name, nudging me awake. “Naptime’s over. Don’t you want to play with the other kids?” I remained motionless until my worst fears were realized and the sheets were lifted. I felt all the blood drain from my face and limbs, as if all the life in me were gravitating inward and leaving me a cold, shivering mess of fear and shame. “Holly,” the words registered with feelings of disappointment and anger. “My god, how old are you? Wetting the bed? You stay right there.” If I was in Arizona, that would have put me at the younger end of four years old. I would have been potty trained for a year by now, maybe eighteen months. Of course, I still had accidents, but not during naps, only at night sometimes and on really long car rides when Dad wouldn’t stop and told me to hold it. I was a big girl, I didn’t have wet myself during the day and pretty soon I wouldn’t wet myself at all at night, but for whatever reason that afternoon, I had relapsed to much younger tendencies. Unlike in my adult years, where I took joy in secretly wetting myself and indulging in my adult baby behavior, this was so much different. I wanted to cry. I think I was crying, but I couldn’t tell. There was a deep sadness inside me, a deep regret that I had done something terrible and unforgivable, because when you’re four, well, every mistake that makes an adult upset with you feels like you’ve brought the world crashing down around you. The babysitter’s footsteps were rushed and panicking, the noise only making it sound like I really had done something bad. Eventually, she returned, her thunderous footsteps signifying her approach before she appeared over me like a giant twice my size. Her voice boomed, and though I didn’t understand all of it, I understood I was in trouble. Rolling me over, she placed a towel over me and rolled me back, taking off my shirt, my shorts and my underwear. I didn’t understand what was going on until I heard the snap of a plastic lid and noticed her taking a handful of baby wipes out of a pink tub with the name “Morgan” written on the side in black marker. Exaggerated words of shame and disappointment were rained down on my as I was cleaned up the way a baby would be cleaned up after wetting their diaper, only I had the added disadvantage of being soaked from head to toe. I lay there, squirming and crying and saying “no” for what felt like hours as I was thoroughly wiped down. I was utterly devastated inside at how I was being treated not like a big girl, but a little diaper-wetting baby. Her hands and movements were very rough, as if she did not appreciate that I had put her in a position to do this, but left her no choice, and my whining was most likely not helping matters. It felt like the end of the world, but then came a pause. A soft little voice called from the door as the babysitter went over to the door and picked up a little toddler with tiny, tiny blonde pigtails in a hand-me-down Snoopy shirt and a diaper. “Howwy!” the baby babbled as she reached out at me as the babysitter put her on the dry end of the bed near my head as the babysitter continued to wipe me down. It wasn’t enough that I had to be treated this way, but I knew this little baby. This was Morgan. Morgan was watching me. “Howwy baby!” “That’s right,” the words registered with a sickeningly sweet condescending tone. “Holly is a baby today, just like you. She wet herself during her nap, just like a little baby.” I knew I was crying at this point. Morgan was my little sister and I wanted her to look up to me. How could she look up to me the way I was? She would never like me; she would never want to be my sister. “Howwy ith good widdle baby!” I heard her say, feeling her tiny hand tap down on my forehead, looking up at her little toothy grin as she patted my head softly, praising me for being good for the babysitter, praising me for being cleaned up like a baby. I felt Morgan’s small lips on my forehead as I closed my eyes, and opened them, breathing heavily, back in my own bed, in my own room, with my hand over my chest. I played the dream back over and over, and it never got murkier. Looking deep inside myself, I asked if it was real, and I could not think of a reason that something so clear and elaborate hadn’t really happened. I did live in Arizona, that was what Morgan looked like, and remembering how I was treated made me cringe with a darkly nostalgic sensation that made me incredible uncomfortable, but Morgan… Morgan made me feel better. Morgan made me feel okay and that I didn’t have to be ashamed of it. She smiled at me as I was treated like a baby girl. I didn’t know what time it was as I got out of bed. Morgan would undoubtedly be sleeping upstairs in her old room, so I felt no fear of being caught out of bed as I opened the door and slumped down on the couch, turning on the TV to clear my head as I skimmed through whatever infomercials and 80s sitcom reruns were airing at this ungodly hour. The urge to pee came on somewhere in the middle of an episode of The Cosby Show, but I did not feel like going in my diaper anymore. Taking off the tabs, I walked naked from the waist down to the bathroom and did my business like a proper lady. As I did, I felt a deep emptiness inside that tugged at my heart. Jesus, I thought as I finished up. What the hell is wrong with me? Of course, I knew what was wrong with me now, or at least a big part of it. There was something so soothing yet painful about the memory I had uncovered, as though I had unburdened myself of a great mystery while giving myself the even heavier burden of what I assumed to be the truth. I was sure it was that sense of shame while Morgan praised me that confused me like this, that made it take root in my mind. I couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t have remembered, but even telling myself that did nothing to console how I felt. I turned off the TV as I put my diaper back on and returned to bed. I looked at the window to see day had not yet broken, nor was it close. The only light in the room was still coming from the nightlight. Clasping my eyelids shut, I threw the covers over myself, searching for dreams that did not make me feel so badly, but morning came before I could. For a moment I thought I was having the same dream again, but the hand reaching to wake me was not as strong against my shoulder and I was dry, not just my sheets but also my diaper. I did not feel like the two-year-old I was supposed to be this morning, but Morgan felt like the caretaker just as much as she had the night before. “Rise and shine,” she commanded cheerfully. “The sun is shining and it’s a new day.” I rolled over lazily, looking at Morgan as if she had gone crazy, as if I hadn’t expected this, but Morgan interpreted it as more of my early morning grumpiness, and responded with even more baby talk. “Well, good morning, Miss Grumpy! You want to come upstairs with Miss Morgan and have some breakfast?” I could have played along, reaching to be lifted out of bed or pretending to put up a fight, but instead, I simply sat up, removed the covers and walked to the door. Morgan was perplexed by this, but did not falter in her own duties, pulling me back and checking my diaper. “Wow, someone stayed dry all night,” she said, honestly surprised. “I thought for sure I would be changing a wet diaper first thing this morning.” “It’s fine,” I responded in my normal adult voice. “I don’t need to go.” After twenty-four hours of whining and pouting in negative responses, Morgan was utterly silenced by my incredibly grown-up response. It took her a moment to follow me out of my bedroom and up the stairs that I had already begun to ascend without the need for her handholding. “Wait,” Morgan called, grabbing my hand back. “This isn’t what we agreed to. What’s going on with you?” “Nothing,” I lied to her. “I’m fine.” “You are not fine,” Morgan laughed slightly, pulling me back again. “This isn’t the way you were acting yesterday. I thought you liked being treated like a baby. Isn’t that what you wanted?” “I changed my mind,” I pulled back, trying to escape, but only getting to the top of the stairs before Morgan grabbed me at the top, slamming her hand across the doorframe, barring me so I could not leave the staircase. “Did something happen last night?” Morgan asked, before he own face drained of color. “Was it the story? Was it what I said?” “What you said?” I asked, barely remembering anything after the story. “What are you talking about? No, I’m fine, I just…” “Holly,” Morgan begged me, her voice choked in earnest. “Please don’t shut me out again. I liked our time together yesterday. I liked taking care of you, and how it made it so you opened up to me. Don’t do this again to me. Tell me what’s wrong.” “Nothing’s wrong!” I raised my voice, trying to push past her. “Just let me through!” “Not until you tell me!” she argued, holding me back. Frustrated with myself, with my thoughts, with who I was, I shoved Morgan across from the door, stomping past her across the kitchen before turning around, a safe distance enough away. “Fine!” I screamed, spiraling around to face her. “You really want to know? It’s you, Morgan! The whole reason I am the way I am is because of you!” Morgan looked at me for a moment, her eyes glazed over with confusion as a small smirk emerged, enraging me even more as I clenched my teeth. “What the hell do you think is funny about that?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Morgan asked, more bewildered than anything else. “I did this to you? I bought you all that baby stuff and convinced you to act like one? I did that? Are you serious?” “It’s not funny!” I screamed again, grabbing Morgan away from the wall and pushing her into it again, making the china cabinet in the dining room next to us rattle precariously. Morgan looked at me, deathly cold in her stare. “If you want to talk, we can talk,” she tried to be reasonable. “Sit down and we can talk about this while we eat.” Going with my better judgment, I made my way over to the table where I saw a bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar had been prepared for me, along with a sippy cup and that damned airplane spoon. I picked it up and threw it across the living room where it nicked the wall. “I want a real spoon!” I demanded. “I am not a baby!” “You think you’re acting like an adult?” Morgan said, going to the living room to get the babyish utensil. “Because I can assure you, you are most certainly not.” “I don’t care what you think,” I kept my attitude going, not knowing where to draw the line or even how. “You’re not my mother. You don’t have the right to act like it, no matter how much you enjoy it.” “Wait, wait, you think I’m doing this because I want to? You think I wanted to spend my weekend changing my grown sister’s diapers, feeding her and watching her like she wasn’t able to do it herself?” Morgan was actively laughing now, mocking me, as she walked back and put the airplane spoon in front of me defiantly. “You wanted this, Holly. You wanted this before I even got here. Maybe you didn’t want me, but you got me, and you sure seemed pleased as punch about it last night, so I don’t care what you think or how upset with yourself you are – you are not taking this out on me again. Now eat your oatmeal.” I glared at Morgan. I knew she was right, and that just made me burn inside even more. Looking at the oatmeal in front of me, I waved my hand back and slapped it off the table, listening as the plastic bowl rolled around on the floor as Morgan looked at me in horror. I dared her to do something. I wanted her to get mad. I wanted her to end this once and for all and make me realize I am not a baby. I wanted that so badly, but as she raised her hand to slap me as I so rightfully deserved, she stopped. She glared at me and I could see it in her eyes how badly she wanted to do so. Her hand hesitated in the air as I waited for it to come flying down across my face, yet she put her hand down, slowly and trembling all over as she fought to restrain the pent-up anger she felt inside. She looked at me, grabbing her sides as she hunched over the island counter, looking like she was going to explode, both literally and figuratively. “What’s the matter?” I said, getting up from my seat, but Morgan looked at me like I had no right to even ask such a question. “Just sit down!” she ordered me, ready to cry. “I don’t need this stress right now, Holly!” “What are you so upset about?” I asked selfishly, knowing I had to be the one in more turmoil right now than her, but I wasn’t. She turned to me, beet-red as she wobbled over to one of the high-standing chairs at the island and took a seat, bending over and breathing deeply. “Really?” Morgan asked me skeptically, as skeptical as I had asked her the same question moments ago. “You really want to know?” Morgan was perfect compared to me. Whatever she was so visibly upset about what be like cake to what I was dealing with. “It can’t be that ba–” “I’m pregnant,” she spit at me, so violently and angrily and ready to break down. I sat back down, stunned and uncertain that I wasn’t sure what I had just heard. She glared at me again, judging me for my impudence, repeating it again. “Didn’t you hear me?” I heard it loud and clear, but I could not think of anything I could say, anything I should say, but only the thought that my sister who had cared for me as a baby all day yesterday was having a baby of her own. Chapter 9 The seconds ticked by as I sat at the table, looking at Morgan from across the kitchen. Her head was sunk down onto the island counter with her hands over her head, sheltering her from whatever judgment she thought I might put upon her. I, however, couldn’t do something like that to her, not since she hadn’t judged me. More than that, my silence was a search for answers that I could only obtain if I asked questions, but I couldn’t find the air to breathe that would let me speak to her. I could only sit there for what felt like hours. After a few failed attempts to find the words in my throat, my parted lips finally elicited a question that pierced through the uncomfortable silence. “How…” I started, stopping, waiting for her to look up, but she remained hidden under her hands. “How long have you known?” At first, I thought Morgan wasn’t going to answer me, but after a minute, she seemed to find her own voice once again as well. “A week,” the words came out in such a guttural manner, as if she had been choking on them. I blinked, feeling some moisture at the corner of my eyes – not tears, not yet at least. “How far along?” I continued asking the questions swirling around in my head. “Two weeks,” Morgan responded, much quicker and much clearer than last time. I nodded, taking a deep breath before I asked another question. “Am I the first…?” “Yes,” she stated sharply and outright, almost annoyed. I hesitated to ask another question, but curiosity got the best of me. “So Mom and Dad don’t…” “No,” she said, finally lifting her head, looking like she was ready to cry, or that maybe she had been crying silently for the past few minutes. I looked down at the table, away from Morgan’s bitter stare, feeling ashamed with myself for thinking I was the only person with problems in our family, a thought that was punctuated far more cruelly when Morgan called me out. “Happy now you’re not the only screw-up in this family?” “I never said you were perfect,” I responded, trying to save face, but it was already far too late for that. Morgan glared at me, her brow furrowing upon hearing that. “What was it you said to me Friday?” she recalled, her voice deep with spite. “About my perfect fucking life?” I winced, ready to cry myself. I fought back the tears as best I could, knowing I had no right to do so right now. I tightened my hands into fists in my lap, trying to squeeze out the pain to no avail. “I’m sorry,” I spit my apology out, as though it was burning me from inside and I needed to get it out of me. “I didn’t know.” “No shit,” Morgan muttered, crossing her arms and laying her head back down over them, sick of me. I couldn’t blame her in the slightest. I could only imagine what I looked like from her perspective, whining about my problems as if I was the only one who had them, bitter at the people who wanted to help me. I undoubtedly was as pathetic as I felt. All she had wanted to do was help me, and I constantly looked at it like she had an ulterior motive. It wasn’t like she gave me any hints that that was the case… no, wait. No, she had. I almost forgot, but no, that wasn’t my imagination, was it? I looked up at Morgan in her sheltered state, my curiosity again eating at me from inside. “So that wasn’t my imagination,” I questioned her seriously. “You really did ask me if you would be a good mom?” “It was stupid. Forget it,” she replied, confirming my suspicions. She did ask me that, after an entire day of treating me like a real toddler, she asked me if she’d be a good mother. There was no way that was a coincidence any longer. “Is that what all this was?” I began to speak more confidently, no longer feeling like this was all my fault. “I wanted to hear it from someone who I could trust to tell me the truth,” Morgan’s words bubbled up from the granite countertop. “Are you planning to keep it then?” I asked in such a nonchalant tone, that I immediately regretted it. Morgan peeked up from the resting place of her arms, eyeing me like I was an idiot before sinking her head back down on top of them. I was preparing to apologize, opening my mouth when Morgan’s response finally came, broken and painful. “I don’t know.” I knew better than to push that topic, but Morgan’s actions and how they affected me were not something I could just as easily ignore. “Did you…” I stopped, wanting to choose my words carefully. “Were you using this weekend as a chance to help you decide?” “It’s not like I planned any of this,” Morgan fell back on that excuse. Of course she didn’t plan this. I wasn’t an idiot. “I just thought…” “So you used me,” I interrupted softly, accusing her outright. This brought her head upright. She looked at me, incredulous that I would even dare to say such a thing after everything she had said. Maybe if I wasn’t selfish, I would give her the benefit of the doubt on everything, but I was selfish and I wanted answers to the things she had done that affected me. “Oh, give me a break,” she huffed, placing a hand on her forehead, exasperated. “Stop saying it like that, like you didn’t want it.” “What I wanted doesn’t change the fact that you took advantage of it,” I asserted myself, not backing down from any guilt-tripping she would put upon me. I may have been in the wrong on Friday, but it didn’t make her any better, using me like a guinea pig for her life decisions. Morgan looked aside, annoyed with my line of reasoning. “You make it sound like I bullied you into this.” “Didn’t you? Holding my attacking you over my head so you could test out your parenting skills?” I reminded her, the same way she was reminding me. I wasn’t going to be the bad guy if she was just as guilty as I was. I waited for her to snap back at me, but once again I was foiled. Morgan sighed, her gaze becoming downcast as she looked down on the countertop, avoiding my line of sight. “I guess you’re right,” she conceded. Seeing her look so defeated made me feel I had given her the wrong impression rather than feel like I had proven my point, and I was just as guilty for allowing her to go on with my treatment, and in some instance, even encouraging it. “It’s not like I hated it,” I admitted half-heartedly. Morgan laughed, closing her eyes. “That’s an understatement.” “But you still took advantage of it,” I affirmed, wanting to be absolutely clear about that point. Morgan though did not seem to feel much guilt over that matter now that she had fessed up to it. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” she asked, putting the spotlight back on me. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t your whole plan this weekend to give yourself the full baby treatment?” She was right, but not entirely. “I told you, this was the first time I was going all out,” I reminded her. “Until now, I would just sneak a diaper here or there in the middle of the night, maybe suck my pacifier on nights when I knew no one would come to wake me up in the morning. Living with Mom and Dad doesn’t exactly give me ample opportunities for this, you know, and you… you just went all out and barely gave me any choice.” “So I went too far, is that it?” Morgan asked for clarification. “No,” I sighed, putting my hand on my forehead this time, rubbing at it, trying to find the exact words for how I felt, but the truth was this feeling was not nearly as simple as I wished it would be. “No, I liked all of it, but that’s what I hated most.” “I don’t understand,” Morgan replied. I wasn’t surprised. “I didn’t choose to be like this, Morgan,” I did my best to explain. “And truthfully, sometimes I hate being this way. It feels like I’ve given up, like I failed at growing up and this is all I have left. It’s comforting for a while, but then I just hate myself for it.” “This isn’t all you have,” Morgan tried to reassure me like yesterday, but I found out too hard to believe, even more so when she dared to put herself in my shoes. “You just hit a big bump in the road, same as me. You don’t see me in a diaper.” No, I thought, grimacing as I questioned whether I should tell her the full truth. No, you wouldn’t be. You were never put in a position that made you question if you were still a baby, were you? “Holly?” Morgan called my name, my silence having gone longer than I realized, but it was that push that pushed me to tell it to her straight. “I had a dream last night,” I began to explain. “It was about when we lived in Arizona, but it was so much clearer than any dream I’ve ever had. It was more like a memory. I’m not sure how much of it was real, if any of it was real, but in it, I wet the bed at the house we went to for daycare when we lived there. The babysitter stripped me and wiped me clean and you and her both said what a good baby I was, even though I wasn’t a baby, even though I didn’t want to be a baby. Still, you praised me for it. The fact that it made you happy made me happy, despite how much I hated it.” Morgan didn’t know how to respond to this, looking at me confused, like she was trying to remember it herself, despite having only been two, which is exactly the reasoning she decided to use. “Even if that did happen, you can’t blame me for something that happened before I could remember anything at all.” “I don’t,” I admitted reluctantly. “But that’s why I feel like this today. I feel like I’m being encouraged not to grow up, to stay like this forever…” The moisture gathered at the corner of my eyes again. This time, I was sure it was not a false alarm as my voice cracked. “I think there might really be a spell on me and that I won’t ever grow up.” My voice broke as I felt the first tear roll down my cheek. Looking pathetic, crying in nothing but a T-shirt and a diaper, Morgan came away from the island and joined me at the kitchen table where she had sat across from me at mealtimes all day yesterday. She placed her hand out towards mine, though did not take it, seeming to pull back at the last minute. “You’ll grow up,” she told me, hunched over the table so I could see her face while I stared down at the childish placemat in front of me, mocking me in the face of Morgan’s words. “Everything I said last night was how I really felt. I don’t hate you, and I never did. I love you, Holly, but hearing all this from you… do you hate me?” I winced, squeezing my eyes to milk the last of the tears out of my eyes so I wouldn’t have to keep crying. “No,” I answered. “I just… I always hated that we had nothing in common. I hated that you were better than me and more popular than me. I hated that we were so different… but that was all in my head, wasn’t it?” “Holly,” she spoke softly, putting her hand on top of mine. “Honest and truthful, would you rather this weekend had never happened?” “I don’t know,” I whispered, a slight headache starting to form, prompting me to find a way to end this painful conversation. “I’m more confused than ever now.” “You’re not alone,” Morgan squeezed my hand encouragingly. “All I wanted was to see if I could do a good job taking care of a baby full time by taking care of you, but now I don’t know. I don’t think any of this has helped. It’s just made things harder.” It killed me inside to see Morgan like this, because it meant I was right. Weally were the same, maybe not on the surface but inside we were two peas in a pod; stubborn, selfish, confused, and lost. I knew how that felt and I knew I would be remiss if I let her feel that way alone. “You did do a good job,” I answered. “You did a great job. Morgan, I haven’t felt so loved and cared for in years, and I have no doubt you would make a great mom.” “Then why aren’t you showing it?” Morgan asked sincerely. I pondered this question with sadness for the answer that remained unchanged through all of this. “Because I can’t be like this and be the way I want to be at the same time.” Morgan squeezed my hands tight and let loose a revelation from her lips; “Why do you have to choose? Why not just be you?” I thought about who I was for a moment. Someone who had scraped by out of college, who hadn’t ever held a real job, who had a passion for her art but gave up when she was bullied out of it, who had to rely on her parents for a living, who enjoyed watching preschool cartoons and wearing diapers and sucking her pacifier at night before bed. I was a complete mess. The words cracked out from my mouth as I closed my eyes, unable to bear whatever look Morgan would have for me. “I don’t know who “me” is.” My heart sank as Morgan let go of my hand, leaving me alone with my own admittance that I couldn’t keep my life in one piece, and was helpless to watch it crumble down around me at such a young age. I was beyond help. I would be little baby Holly forever. It was the only thing I was any good at. Strong arms wrapped around me from behind as my eyes snapped open, gasping as Morgan embraced me tightly from behind the chair, her lips close to my ear that she could gently whisper exactly what she thought of my opinion of myself. “You’re my big little sister,” she told me, pure and sincere. “You are a creative, aspiring adult trying to find her place in the world and a playful baby girl that finds wonders in things most of us have already forgotten. If you were to choose to be one or the other, you wouldn’t be you anymore. The only one who wants you to choose, Holly, is you, and I won’t let you do that. If you don’t know who you are anymore, I’ll always be here to remind you.” I cried for a while after that while Morgan held me close. She never hushed me, giving me all the time I needed to cry out all of my self-loathing and fear of who I was and who I was becoming, as if it was something I had to be ashamed of. She never let go, not for one single moment, until I had finished. “You said you’d stay by my side,” I sniffled as I finished my bawling. “Did you mean that?” “Every word,” Morgan whispered softly to me. My lips quivered as I took my hands and placed them on Morgan’s arms gently. “Then… is it okay if I stay by yours?” Morgan let go as I stood up and turned to face her. We hugged for the first time that could remember. We held each other so tightly, remembering and sealing our unconditional love for each other despite all of our flaws and failures as siblings beforehand. Morgan held my hand as we let go, looking at me with hope in her eyes. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after today, but… just for now, just until I have to leave, can you stay my baby Holly?” The tears nearly returned as I covered my mouth, nodding as I hugged Morgan again, while she patted my head gently, soothing me in her arms. “There there,” she cooed as she held me. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Chapter 10 The return to baby Holly was nearly instant, now that there were no more secrets or shame between Morgan and I. As she patted my head, I let my body weight go on top of Morgan. She nearly stumbled, holding me up as I looked at her with pouty eyes. “Miss Morgan, I’m hungwy,” I pouted, knowing full well my breakfast was still all over the floor. That was in the past though, and Morgan helped me into my chair, pushing me in as she went to one of the kitchen drawers and wet it down under the kitchen sink. I sat there, playing with my airplane spoon and zooming it around playfully. Morgan smiled, ruffling my hair as she walked behind me and began to clean up the spilled oatmeal, cooling on the floor. “When I’m done with this, I’ll make you another bowl,” she told me, on her hands and knees on the hardwood floor. “And no more messes. You’re going to eat every spoonful, okay?” “Okays!” I announced in a loud voice, oblivious to ideas such as indoor voices as I made airplane noises and crashed the spoon into the table. Morgan chuckled a little as she finished cleaning up the mess on the floor and made her way back to the kitchen. “Is there anything special you want in your oatmeal, sweetie?” Morgan asked as she began to make another serving. “Bwown sugar! Bwown sugar” I demanded, banging the spoon on the plastic placemat in front of me, chanting it over and over again until Morgan came back to me, holding back her laughter as she took the spoon away from me, this time with little resistance. “Okay, okay, brown sugar it is,” Morgan said. “And booberries!” I added, thinking about it. Morgan turned around, walking to the kitchen to see if we had any blueberries, but I already knew they were there. After all, I was the one who bought them to have this weekend. “Look what I found!” Morgan announced, presenting the blueberry package like one of those prize models on game shows. I clapped my hands, playing along with the idea that I didn’t know they were there. “Yay! Booberries!” I babbled, slapping my hands on the placemat now that my spoon was gone. Morgan can’t take my hands away, I thought with a devilish grin as I waited for my breakfast. The oatmeal was ready in a matter of minutes and I watched impatiently, bouncing in my seat as Morgan walked back with a new plastic bowl of the hearty mush, so fresh off the stove that steam was rising off the top. “Bweakfast! Bweakfast!” “Not yet,” Morgan chided me as she placed the bowl out of my reach. “We need to make sure it’s cool enough so we don’t burn your tongue? You don’t want that, do you?” “No!” I announced, grabbing at my mouth fearfully. “No burn!” “Okay, so how about a banana first?” Morgan said, pulling one out from behind her “Nanna!” I clapped my hands as she peeled it, breaking it off into chunks and placing them on the placemat for me to eat. I grabbed at them with no regard to my strength, mashing them in my hands as I tried putting my hands into my mouth, still holding onto the piece, clumsily getting mashed banana all over my face and hands. “Holly!” Morgan put her hands on her hips, looking at me sternly. “What did I say about messes?” “No mowe?” I looked up at her innocently, gumming at the backside of my index and middle finger. Morgan sighed and got the baby wipes, only taking care of my hands for the time being. Surely she knew I wasn’t going to let my face stay clean either. “That’s right,” she said in a patient, teaching tone as she scrubbed my hands clean. “And no more messes means we have to stay clean. Can you stay clean for me and not get messy anymore?” “Twy,” I answered, whimpering a little bit, resisting the adult idea of responsibility and consequences. “Twy okays?” “Yes,” Morgan said, disposing of the dirty wipes and fetching the airplane spoon from the island counter. “Trying is okay, and Miss Morgan will be very proud of you if you try your best.” “Okays,” I said, doing my best as Morgan placed spoonful after spoonful of creamy warm oatmeal in my mouth. Some of it spilled just as a result of how careful one needs to be when spoon-feeding, but Morgan could tell I really was trying. Only once did she jab the back of my throat with the spoon, which I coughed, spitting some food out on the placemat. “Holly,” she looked at me warily, warning me with her tone. “Was that trying?” “I didn’t do it on purpose!” I blurted out, defending myself. “The spoon hit me in the back of my mouth!” “Oh, Holly,” Morgan said, stroking my hair as I looked at her, afraid of being scolded. “If I do that, let me know, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.” I tried not to spend too much time regretting that I didn’t say anything about the painful spoon-feeding sooner. Once I had said something, Morgan did a much more careful job, pausing when she thought the spoon was in enough so I could close my mouth and she could pull the spoon back through my lips. This wasn’t only so much easier for me, but it was even a little fun, smiling at Morgan with little bits of mush on my lips. “Good girl!” Morgan announced, looking at me with excitement that I then mimicked in the fullest. “You ate everything!” Because you didn’t gag me this time, I thought with a bit of an inner smirk as Morgan wiped my face clean and pulled out my chair, setting me loose on the living room to color and listen to music. I didn’t feel like just drawing in the lines today and turned to the back of the coloring book to the last page. The back of the buffer page at the beginning of the book was happily blank. Ripping it out, I began to choose through my crayons carefully, being extra careful as I didn’t have the luxury of erasing sketch lines. “What are you drawing?” Morgan asked, standing over my shoulder all of a sudden. My eyes bulged as I threw myself over the fragile paper, looking up at Morgan with a burning red face. “You can’t look!” I exclaimed. “It’s a surprise!” “Oh,” Morgan said, teasing me by trying to peek through the space between my head and my arms. This only made me more defiant as I tightened myself up as much as I could without crinkling the paper. “Can I see it when you’re done?” “Only if you don’t peek anymore,” I said. Morgan agreed and sat down on the couch, watching TV in full sight of me. I adjusted myself so the only thing she could see if me was my puffy diapered butt. I pretty much went through the entire Crayola rainbow usually spending only a minute or so with each color. I hoped I would be able to smear the colors like paint, but those crayon people were smart with kids and I found they didn’t smudge as easily as I’d like. This made my work more difficult, but also more rewarding once it was finished. It was not my finest work, far from it, but I wanted to believe Morgan’s words from yesterday. I wanted to draw again because it made me happy, and looking at the drawing I had spent the better part of two hours working on, I was proud of it. It was the first thing I had drawn in years that I wanted to show off. Crawling to my feet, ignoring the carpet marks set into my legs, I toddled over to Morgan, holding the picture behind my back. “Miss Morgan! Miss Morgan!” I jumped up and down, shaking the home entertainment system behind me, to which I immediately stopped. “Miss Morgan, I got a surprise for you!” Morgan turned down the volume on the television as she placed the remote down and gave me her full attention, putting her hands on her lap. “What is it, sweetie?” “You gotta close your eyes,” I ordered her. She did as I told promptly. I giggled as the paper rustled as I held it out in front of me, arms fully outstretched and displaying my picture in front of Morgan. “Okay, open them!” Morgan did, and I couldn’t even begin to explain the range of emotions she felt looking at it. It was a fairly simple drawing I thought, not very complex since I couldn’t sketch it out first. I drew myself as a two-year old in a pink sleeper with a hood that made me look like a teddy bear, being held up by Morgan as she was currently, spinning me around in the middle of a baby pink nursery, both of us with the biggest smiles on our faces, with little curling arrows pointing out which one was “me” and “Miss Morgan”. At the top, scrawled in large crude letters: I LUV YU, MISS MORGAN Morgan took the picture from me, holding it carefully in her hands as she looked over the picture and all its meanings. I held my hands behind my back, bending in and out as I waited to be told what she thought of it, expecting nothing but praise. “Do you like it?” I prompted impatiently. Morgan sat there with the picture in her lap for a few moments before closing her eyes and nodding feverishly. Reaching her hands up, she took mine and pulled me close. “Come here, kiddo,” she sniffled, hugging me tightly at the sign of full appreciation for her and all she was capable of. I blushed in her embrace, hugging her back as she continued to pat and rub my back until she let go. “That was a very nice surprise,” she said, wiping the beginning of tears from her eyes as she got up from the couch. “I think such a pretty picture calls for a very yummy lunch.” “Yummy!” I jumped up and down a little, following Morgan to the kitchen as she folded up the picture and placed it in her purse for safekeeping. Turning around, she scooted me back to the living room. “Can you be my good girl and clean up your crayons while Miss Morgan makes lunch?” Morgan asked me. Of course I wanted to be a good girl, so I smiled with a really big grin, nodding and scampering back to the living room, toppling over on the floor, making everything in the room shake and rattle. “Easy there, baby girl!” Morgan called out from the kitchen as she got out some plates. “Good girls don’t run around like wild animals.” “I know!” I called as I quietly cleaned up my coloring supplies, making sure everything was in the plastic bin and the lid sealed on tight. I pretended to grunt and heave as I “tried” to lift the bin and carry it back to the laundry room slowly and carefully. Morgan turned around from her preparations, smiling as she took out some slices of bread from the bag on the counter. “Are you putting them away for me?” Morgan asked, as if it wasn’t something I could normally do. “What good manners! I think I’ll get someone a treat with their lunch.” I giggled excitedly as I put the plastic bin away in the top cabinet of the laundry room as I headed back to the kitchen, pulling out my chair and sitting myself down. I tried to pull myself in, bouncing the chair up and down until Morgan came up to me and pushed me in. “It’s okay to ask for help, sweetie. That’s what I’m here for.” “I know,” I said with a cute little lilt as Morgan placed lunch in front of me: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a cup of applesauce, a sippy cup of milk, and an… oatmeal chocolate chip cookie! I reached for the cookie instinctively, only to hear the gentle scold of Morgan’s voice. “Ah ah ah,” she warned me. “Not until you eat the rest of your lunch.” I smiled, reaching for my sandwich. It was a whole sandwich and I frowned a bit. It looked too big for a little girl like me and I held it up to Morgan, dissatisfied. “What’s the matter, Holly?” she asked. “Is something wrong with your sandwich?” “Too big,” I muttered softly. Morgan smiled, patting my head and got up from the table. She returned with a knife and cut the sandwich into quarters so I could eat them more easily. I took one of the quarters and began to nibble on it. “Miss Morgan, why do I get a sandwich?” “Because you’re going to be a big girl soon,” Morgan said, resting her chin in her hands as she watched me intently. She was right, it was getting to noon and I’d have to start cleaning up and get ready for Mom and Dad to get home that evening. As glad as I was about how things turned out with Morgan, I did not want to go through it again with my parents. As I ate my applesauce like I was supposed to, dribbling only the tiniest bit, I placed my spoon down, looking down at the rest of my lunch nervously as I felt a rumble in my tummy, just like the one yesterday morning. “Holly, is something wrong?” Morgan asked, placing her hand on top of mine. I looked away. It wasn’t like doing it yesterday made it any less embarrassing, but Morgan took my hand and squeezed it tight, and I knew I couldn’t just ignore her. “Holly, do you have to potty?” I nodded softly, wincing as I squirmed on the kitchen chair. Morgan took the spoon away, pulling my lunch back and holding both my hands. “I’m right here, sweetie,” she told me comfortingly as my face turned red. “Just go ahead, and I’ll change you as soon as you’re done.” “But my cookie…” I whined with the one-track mind only a toddler could have. “Will I still get my cookie?” “Of course you will,” Morgan cooed as she held my hands tightly. “Just relax. I’m right here. Nothing bad is going to happen. You trust me, don’t you?” I nodded quietly as I did my best to relax, focusing only on the warmth of Morgan’s hands as my tummy bubbled and tightened. Feeling the pressure, I let my body coax it out naturally, but my eyes widened as the natural progression of my body filled up more than I expected. Very rude sounds not associated with good girls rose from beneath my seat. I could have sworn I felt my bottom rising off the chair as the slimy warm mess poured out of me. Morgan’s calming, accepting smile seemed to sink as I looked downward with tremendous hesitation. “Morgan,” I announced, moving only the slightest and feeling the mess shift. “I think I made the Top 10.” Morgan looked at me like she didn’t believe me until the smell reached her nose. “Oh, oh god,” she gasped as she waved her hand frantically in front of her face. “Downstairs, downstairs now.” “But my cookie,” I whined. Morgan took the cookie with us as we went downstairs to get changed, checking all the while down the staircase to make sure I wasn’t leaking out the sides. Fortunately, the Bambino was holding up nicely even if it didn’t feel like it. Spreading the changing mat out on the floor, she made sure the diaper would only touch the mat once it was opened before returning to my room for my diapering supplies. Arms full upon return, Morgan spread the various tools of the task before her, and sighed as she stared at my diaper, tinted just the faintest bit of brown at the seat. “Alright, let’s do this.” “Cookie,” I interrupted her as she began to tear the tapes off, reaching for the cookie over by the bottle of powder. “Can you wait until I’m done?” Morgan asked, tickling my sides, but all I did was squirm and reach further over. “Cookie!” I squirmed and reached, nearly turning over with my diaper half-open. Morgan panicked and reached out to grab my waist and turn me back over. I guess it must have been bad if she was that worried about it spilling out. She didn’t even think twice to hand me my cookie to nibble on while she changed me. As the diaper came down, so did the smell of it rise up, hitting us both in the nose. It almost made eating the cookie a bad thing, almost. I was able to bear with the smell as the wipes came out over and over again as Morgan lifted my legs and began to wash my diaper places nice and clean. As the change progressed, I noticed Morgan didn’t seem all that phased. Halfway through my cookie, I pouted a little bit as she spread my legs and started to clean my nethers. “Not a Top 10?” Morgan chuckled, cleaning my lips with a delicate touch. “You really want to know what a Top 10 is?” I nodded, wriggling around a bit as Morgan scooted over to me and bent down, whispering the details in my ears. My smile of curiosity quickly turned to a look of abject disgust and horror. “No!” I gasped, nearly dropping my cookie. “That’s disgusting! Little kids actually…” “Yes,” Morgan laughed, now that I knew the awful truth. “Still think you could make the Top 10?” “I’ll pass,” I sighed, finishing my cookie. “That’s my girl,” Morgan said as she pulled the dirty diaper from my bottom and replaced it with a fresh one. I giggled as she powdered me heavily, to the point once the diaper was taped up and she patted my bottom to signal me to get up, that some powder clouds escaped. “Mmm,” Morgan said, patting my diaper again. “Someone smells pretty for their nap?” “Already?” I panicked, sitting up as Morgan wrapped up the dirty diaper and cleaned her hands with a wipe. “But it feels like…” “It went fast, didn’t it?” Morgan said, helping me to my feet. “Almost too fast.” I nodded, sucking my thumb and pouting as I was led to my bedroom and tucked tightly into bed. Morgan made sure I had Abba and smoothed the covers. “Do you need anything?” “Paci,” I mumbled. Morgan nodded and got my pacifier, placing it in my mouth, stroking my hair to help me sleep. “I’m going to go clean up so Mom and Dad don’t know what happened,” Morgan told me as I closed my eyes. “I have to go after that, so I’ll probably be gone by the time you wake up. Are you going to be okay?” I nodded softly, even though I really didn’t want Morgan to go. I wanted her to stay forever. I didn’t want our parents to come home. I wanted to live here with her in this state of bliss for the rest of my life, even knowing that in a few hours, I will be right back to wanting to grow up, but right now, I wouldn’t mind if time just stopped. “I think so,” I said, encouraging Morgan to think I would be okay, but I wasn’t only concerned about myself. “What about you?” Morgan sighed, pulling her hand away and looking away from me wistfully. “There are still some things I need to consider, but having you in my corner makes me feel a little better.” I reached my own hand out to Morgan, stroking her hair the same way she stroked mine. I guess we really do imitate the things that we see in the way we know they make us feel. Morgan turned back to me, smiling but looking like she was about ready to cry herself. “I’m here for you whenever you need it,” I told her, sincere as I could possibly be. “And I you,” Morgan replied, reminding me who the caretaker was and who was the baby girl. “I love you, big little sister. Sweet dreams.” I blushed as I snuggled deep under my covers as Morgan kissed me on the forehead. “I love you too, little big sister. Thank you for everything.” She closed the door slowly, lingering on one final look of me as her baby girl before she left me to my nap. Because of the lack of sleep the night before and all the excitement of the morning, my dreams found me far more easily this time and with much more happiness. There wasn’t much about the dream, other than Morgan and I were playing in the backyard rolling a ball across to one another. It was so simple, but so comforting. I think it was the first time I thought of my sister as more than someone I was bound to by blood. She was so much more, and I felt so thankful that I was able to see so many sides of my sister this weekend, and made me feel more close to her than I had ever been with her before. The dream did not last long, as the constant sunlight through the blinds made my nap a short but refreshing one. As I got up out of bed I looked around only to see all my supplies were packed in their boxes with a small note that read “Hide them ASAP” I giggled and moved them deep into my closet as I left my room. The basement smelled like lavender, and I guessed Morgan had Febreezed the carpet and the ottoman after my final change. Walking upstairs felt strange without Morgan’s guidance, but I managed as I reached the top. The kitchen and living room were immaculate. Mom and Dad wouldn’t suspect a thing. There was only one thing I noticed that wasn’t taken care of. Twinkle, my Happy Meal toy, was sitting on the corner of the island on top of a folded piece of paper. Lifting her up, I noticed my name was written on the paper in Morgan’s handwriting. Unfolding it, I read what it had to say Dear Holly, I’ll make this short because I really don’t know what else to say at this point that I haven’t already. I meant everything. You are so much more than you think you are. I don’t want you to limit yourself to who you can become, and I won’t limit myself either. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but whatever I do, it will be because I made that choice myself, and I want the same for you. Unlike me though, you don’t have to make a choice. Nobody will ask you to be one thing or be the other. You can be you. You have a freedom I would give the world for right now… Holly, don’t limit yourself and don’t be ashamed of where you are in life. You may have fallen down, but just like any baby girl learning to walk, you should know to get right back up with that big adorable smile of yours. I believe in you, big little sister. I love you. - Morgan I held the letter in my hands for a letter with Twinkle, reading it over and over. In the empty, silent house, alone with nothing but me and all my thoughts, I held Twinkle in between my hands and squeezed them together like a prayer. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but with Morgan by my side, I knew I would find myself someday. The End
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  4. Hello everyone, I haven’t had a chance to work on my major stories for a while, because my computer has been in the shop. So I decided to write this as a kind of bedtime story for all the babies here who might want one. My goal was to write something that sounded like an old fable, with some diaper content for good measure. I hope you enjoy! As always, questions and comments are wonderful. The Fairies’ Gifts - by Selpharia Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a little village that sat on the edge of a forest. All of the people who lived in the village were very kind and good. The adults helped one another when they needed it, and the children all played happily together. And they all remembered to put out gifts for the fairies that lived in the forest, who made sure that the sun kept shining and the bushes were full of sweet red berries, and made the villagers clothes and shoes to keep warm in the cold, cold winter. And everyone was very happy. Everyone, that is, except Annabelle. Annabelle lived in the big stone house at the top of the hill. Her mama and papa had given her all she ever wanted, and everyone did whatever she said. She had toys that whistled and whirred, a pretty riding pony, and beautiful dresses made of silk and satin. But all that didn’t matter, Annabelle still wasn’t happy. She looked around her big stone house, at her toys that whistled and whirred, her pretty riding pony, and her beautiful dresses of silk and satin, and said, “This is not enough! I want more!” And so Annabelle tossed aside her toys and rode on her pony down to the village. When she got to the village, though, she saw all the gifts that the villagers had laid out for the fairies. For Sparkle, who made sure that the sun kept shining bright, the villagers had found a beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined. For Lychee, who kept the bushes full of sweet red berries, they wove a thimble-sized basket of golden straw to carry things in. For clever Cobble, who made them clothes and shoes to keep them warm in the cold, cold winter, they made a soft feathery cushion to rest on when she was tired from all that work. Annabelle looked at all these gifts and said to the villagers. “Why are you giving all these things to the fairies? I want them, and I am much more important than any fairy.” The villagers pleaded with Annabelle. “Miss, we can give you something else later, please don’t take the gifts for the fairies! Otherwise they’ll get angry, and who knows what they’ll do?” But Annabelle didn’t care. She grabbed up the beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined, the thimble-sized basket of golden straw to carry things in, and the feathery cushion to rest your head on, and brought them back to her big stone house on the hill. The villagers didn’t say anything. They were very upset, but they didn’t dare fight with Annabelle’s parents Later that night, the fairies came out of their forest, and saw the villagers beside themselves with sadness. “What’s the matter?” asked Sparkle, straightening her tiny red hat. “Is something wrong?” asked Lychee, smoothing her tiny green dress “It looks like something’s missing,” said Cobble, twirling her tiny brown coat “Oh fairies,” the villagers cried, “we’re so sorry! We had three lovely gifts for you, but Miss Annabelle took them away to her big stone house on the hill.” “Well then, that’s no problem.” said Sparkle. “Since she’s a big girl, we’ll just ask her nicely to return them.” said Lychee. “And then everything will be fine.” said Cobble. The fairies fluttered their wings and flew up to the big stone house on the hill. They squeezed their way under the door, and saw Annabelle sleeping right next to all the villagers’ lovely gifts. When the fairies came in, Annabelle woke up, and saw them standing there. But she wasn’t afraid, they barely came up to her ankle. “What are you doing here?” she asked angrily. “You stole our gifts!” said Sparkle “Please give them back!” said Lychee. “Or we’ll take something from you!” said Cobble. But Annabelle wouldn’t. “All these things are mine now” she said defiantly, “And there’s nothing you can do about it!” “We’ll see about that.” all three fairies said together. But before Annabelle could wonder what they meant, her eyes got heavy and she fell fast asleep in her big, soft bed. Annabelle woke up the next morning, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked around her big stone house and let out a gasp of surprise. The fairies’ gifts, the beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined, the thimble-sized basket of golden straw to carry things in, and the feathery pillow to rest your head on, every single one of them was twice the size they were the night before. But that wasn’t all. All her things that she loved so much had changed too. Her toys that whistled and whirred were replaced by wooden blocks, with letters of the alphabet painted on in bright, happy colors. And next to them was a rocking horse of cherry wood, whose blocky mane and tail looked just like the ones her pretty riding pony had. And last of all, her beautiful clothes of silk and satin were no more. Instead, a cornflower-blue cotton dress, with frilly lace and puffy sleeves, hung in her open dresser. Annabelle scowled a deep, deep scowl, and kicked her her suddenly teeny tiny feet in a terrible tantrum. “How could those stupid little fairies do this to me?” she shrieked. “I’ll teach them not to take my precious things!” She put on her frilly new clothes with a pout, and kicked the rest of her toys out of her way in a huff. Then, she stormed out of her big stone house and started to make her way down the hill to the village. But she was so small now that it was hard going. By the time she made it halfway down the hill, she was all tuckered out. In fact, the only reason she made it to the village at all, was that One of her maids, a sweet girl named Cecily, saw Annabelle toddling along and offered her a hand. “Little Miss Annabelle!”’ she exclaimed. “It’s dangerous for little girls like you to go into the village alone. I’ll go with you, and make sure you stay safe.” “How dare you?” Annabelle replied, glowering the kind of glower that only a little girl subject to the worst of tyrannies, like bathtimes or bedtimes, or no-dessert times, could muster. “I am not a little girl! I am very big, and can walk as far as I want, all by myself!” She stomped off again pridefully, while Cecily let out a little sigh and followed, looking knowingly at her little mistress. Soon enough, Annabelle was so tired that she had no choice but to command Cecily to carry her the rest of the way. “I’m tired. I can walk myself, but I want you to carry me now,” she demanded. Cecily certainly couldn’t refuse without getting in trouble, so she picked up the mistress in her arms, and they entered the village with a sleepy Annabelle cuddled against her maid’s white smock. When they entered the village, though, Annabelle was woken right up by the sound of music. The villagers were playing bright and happy songs to thank the fairies for all that they did. For Sparkle, who made sure that the sun kept shining bright, they played a big brass horn that went “bomp ba da bomp” For Lychee, who kept the bushes full of sweet red berries, they played a tight little drum that went “pat pata pat” And for clever Cobble, who made them clothes and shoes to keep them warm in the cold, cold winter, they played lovely wooden pipes that went “toot doodle oot.” Annabelle listened to all this music and said to the villagers, “Why are you playing all this music for the fairies?” I want you to play for me, and I’m far more important than any fairy.” The villagers pleaded with Annabelle, “Little Miss, we can play something else for you later, but don’t make us stop playing for the fairies. Otherwise, they’ll get angry, and who knows what they’ll do.” But Annabelle didn’t care. She yelled and stomped, until the villagers playing the big brass horn that went “bomp bada bomp,” the tight little drum that went “pat pata pat,” and the lovely wooden pipes that went “toot doodle oot,” agreed to play for her. They played for hours and hours, until they were so tired they couldn’t play anymore. Finally, Annabelle was satisfied, and commanded Cecily to bring her back to her big stone house on the hill. The villagers didn’t say anything. They were very upset, but they didn’t dare fight with Annabelle’s parents. Later that night, the fairies came out of the forest, and saw the villagers beside themselves with sadness. “What’s the matter?” asked Sparkle, straightening her tiny red hat. “Is something wrong?” asked Lychee, smoothing her tiny green dress. “Sounds like something’s missing,” said Cobble, twirling her tiny brown coat. “Oh fairies,” the villagers cried “We’re so sorry! We had three wonderful instruments to play beautiful music for you. But Little Miss Annabelle made us play for hours and hours, until we were so tired we couldn’t play anymore. Then she went back to her big stone house on the hill.” “Well then, that’s no problem,” said Sparkle. “Since she’s a little girl, we’ll just ask her to play with us instead,” said Lychee. “And then everything will be fine,” said Cobble. The fairies fluttered their wings and flew up to the big stone house on the hill. They squeezed their way under the door, and saw Annabelle sleeping right next to a pile of the villagers’ lovely gifts, murmuring snatches of the beautiful music that the villagers had meant for them. When the fairies came in, Annabelle woke up, and saw them standing there. But she wasn’t afraid, they barely came up to her waist. “What are you doing here?” she asked angrily. “You stole our music!” said Sparkle. “Please play with us instead!” said Lychee. “Or we’ll take something from you!” said Cobble. But Annabelle wouldn’t. “All that music is mine now,” she said defiantly. “And there’s nothing you can do about it!” “We’ll see about that,” all three fairies said together. But before Annabelle could wonder what they meant, her eyes got heavy and she fell fast asleep in her big, soft bed. Annabelle woke up the next morning and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked around her big stone house and let out a wail of distress. The fairies’ gifts, the beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined, the thimble-sized basket of golden straw to carry things in, and the feathery pillow to rest your head on, every single one of them was twice as big as they were the night before. But that wasn’t all. All her things that she loved so much had changed too. Her toys that whistled and whirred had changed again. Instead of wooden blocks with letters of the alphabet painted on in bright, happy letters, there was a white pacifier, its front shaped like a cheerful butterfly. Beside it was a rattly rattle with rings on the end. And next to them sat a plush horse with a squishy body whose mane and tail looked like the mane and tail her pretty riding pony had. Her beautiful clothes of silk and satin were still the cornflower blue cotton dress with frilly lace and puffy sleeves. But now a matching bonnet had joined the pile, along with the unmistakable cloud-white cloth of a diaper. What’s more, her big soft bed had become a crib, with bars so big she could barely peek over. Annabelle scowled a deep deep scowl, and kicked her suddenly teenier, tinier feet in a terrible tantrum. “Dumb fairies! This is no fair! No fair!” She screamed and cried until Cecily came rushing in. Her maid was so much taller than she’d been yesterday. She towered over Annabelle, and plucked her from her crib with ease. Cecily held Annabelle as effortlessly as she held a stack of dishes. “Baby Annabelle, what’s wrong?” Cecily cooed. “Not a baby!” Annabelle whined in protest. Her whine became an indignant shriek as Cecily stuck two cold fingers down the back of her diaper. “I knew it, somebody’s cranky because she’s a wet little miss, isn’t she?” the maid said in a singsong voice. Only after Cecily mentioned it did Annabelle realize how soggy and saggy her diaper was. But how could a big girl like she was possibly not have noticed? Surely this was the fairies’ fault too. But there was no way such tiny fairies could have such powerful magic, was there? This thought distracted her so much that she forgot to fuss as Cecily brought her to a changing table, (which Annabelle was sure had been a desk recently) removed her wet diaper and wiped her clean. Annabelle only noticed what had happened after her maid had finished pinning on her fresh new diaper. It really did feel much better, and immediately, she knew what she had to do. “I wanna go to the village!” she announced. She tried to wriggle free of Cecily’s grasp, but she couldn’t. “All right, baby girl,” Cecily said. “Let’s get you in your pram, and we’ll go for a walk.” “No!” Annabelle yelled, her face turning cherry red. “I wanna walk myself!” “Maybe when you’re older, cutie pie.”’ Cecily paid no heed to Annabelle’s defiant cries, and ignored her as she flailed her little feet. Soon, Annabelle found herself riding in the stroller down the hill to the village. It trundled along, rattling just a little at every bump in the road. Annabelle was still very angry, especially at those awful fairies, but the gentle motion of her pram quickly lulled her back to sleep. When they got to the village though, Annabelle was woken right up by the smell of baking. The villagers had made fresh, delicious pies to thank the fairies for all that they did. For Sparkle, who made sure that the sun kept shining bright, they baked an apple pie with the crispest apples they had ever grown. For Lychee, who kept the bushes full of sweet red berries, they baked a lemon pie with cream that was the fluffiest they had ever whipped. For Cobble who made them clothes and shoes to keep them warm in the cold, cold winter, they baked a pecan pie, with molasses that was the ooeyest, gooeyest molasses they had ever made. But Annabelle smelled all these delicious pies and said to the villagers, “ Don’t give any yummy pies to the fairies. Mine!” The villagers pleaded with Annabelle. “Baby girl, we can make something else yummy for you later. But don’t eat the pies we baked for the fairies. Otherwise, they’ll get angry, and who knows what they’ll do?” But Annabelle didn’t care. She leapt out of the pram, and used her bare hands to take a big scoop right out of all three pies. She took from the apple pie, with the apples that were the freshest they’d ever grown, from the lemon pie with the cream that was the fluffiest they’d ever whipped, and the pecan pie with the ooeyest, gooeyest molassses they’d ever made. She stuffed heaping helpings of each into her mouth, so big that she couldn’t fit them all at once. By the time she was done, her mouth was covered in sticky crumbs. When Annabelle was finally satisfied, she ordered Cecily to take her back to her big house on the hill. The villagers didn’t say anything. They were very upset, but they didn’t dare fight with Annabelle’s parents. Later that night, the fairies came out of the forest, and saw the villagers beside themselves with sadness. “What’s the matter?” asked Sparkle, straightening her tiny red hat. “Is something wrong?” asked Lychee, smoothing her tiny green dress. “Smells like something’s missing,” said Cobble, twirling her tiny brown coat. “Oh fairies,” the villagers cried, “we’re so sorry! We had three delicious pies for you to eat. But Baby Annabelle came and gobbled them all up. Then she went back to her big stone house on the hill.” “Well, that’s no problem,” said Sparkle. “Since she’s just a baby, we’ll ask her to say sorry,” said Lychee. “And then everything will be fine,” said Cobble. The fairies fluttered their wings and flew up to the big stone house on the hill. They squeezed their way under the door, and found Annabelle asleep next to a pile of the villagers’ lovely gifts, pacifier in her mouth, and her tummy full of the pies the villagers had meant for them. When the fairies came in, Annabelle woke up and saw them standing there. This time, she was a little afraid. They were all now as tall as she was. “Go away!” Annnabelle said angrily, spitting out her binky. “You stole our pies!” said Sparkle. “Please say you’re sorry!” said Lychee. “Or we’ll take something from you!” said Cobble. But Annabelle wouldn’t. “All my pies. Nyah-Nyah!” she said defiantly, sticking out her tongue. “We’ll see about that,” all three fairies said together. But before Annabelle could wonder what they meant, her eyes got heavy and she fell asleep in her big, soft crib. The next morning, Annabelle woke up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was no longer in her big stone house on the hill. Instead, she found herself on a bed of soft ferns, in the middle of a mushroom circle deep in the forest. Annabelle was about to cry, but before she could, Sparkle put a binky that sparkled and shined in her mouth. The fairy was as tall as Cecily had been yesterday. “There there, baby, don’t cry,” said Sparkle. “We’ll take good care of you,” said Lychee. She popped one of her sweet red berries in Annabelle’s hands. “And we’ll do a better job than those silly humans did. No more being such a spoiled brat” finished Cobble, with a playful swat at Annabelle’s padded behind. She pulled a dress made of gossamer and dew over Annabelle’s puffy diaper, and sprinkled a bit of magic dust on her forehead. The fairies set about their work, making sure the sun kept shining bright, keeping the bushes full of sweet red berries, and making clothes and shoes to keep the villagers warm in the cold, cold winter. As they did, Annabelle floated along happily behind them, giggling. And as the years went by, Annabelle stayed under the fairies’ firm but loving care. She never got quite as big as the fairies, and they still treated her like their little baby. But once she got big enough, the fairies let her help them with their work. Shine let Annabelle hold her beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined, so she could tell exactly where to put the sun in the morning by how the light bounced off it. Lychee let Annabelle hold her thimble-sized basket of golden straw where she kept the sweet red berries for the bushes. And with Annabelle’s help, Cobble made better clothes and shoes than ever before. To the fairies’ surprise, Annabelle was glad to do all these things. They made her feel important, and she liked seeing her mommies happy. When they all went out of the forest to receive gifts, none of the villagers recognized that the baby fairy was Annabelle. They called her Crinkle after the sound she made as she zipped through the air with her three fairy mommies, and were always delighted to see her. And so, finally, everyone in the small village and the forest was happy. Especially Annabelle. The End
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  5. Summer's Retreat by BabyStevie26 "These grades are abysmal," her father said. "I didn't raise a dullard. Do you expect your tutors to be pleased to find out you've wasted their time?" "That-that's not-" "It's not what?" Father said, his lips curled into a sneer. "Not that the work was hard? Was it just laziness, then?" "No!" she said. "Some girls in my class, they needed help-" "Then next time you will deny them," Father snapped. "You have enough problems of your own without contributing to others' failure." Summer closed her eyes and cried as her father's tirade continued. She begged, prayed to be somewhere, anywhere else. -------------------- Summer opened her eyes. Then blinked as nothing seemed immediately familiar.Where am I? Summer asked herself.She wasn't sure what had just happened. One moment her father was berating her for getting C's in school. The next she was someplace else entirely. Looking around she saw she was sitting on her knees on a carpet in front of a coffee table. A child's coloring book was open in front of her, overlarge crayons scattered around. A green one was in her hand. Further in front of her was a television. It was currently turned off. Reflected in the screen was the sofa directly behind Summer, as well as Summer herself.What am I wearing? Summer thought. She looked down at herself. She needed to see it with her own eyes because the image reflected the screen was simply too absurd. Yet when she looked down she saw exactly the same thing that was in the reflection.Seventeen year old Summer was wearing a pastel pink one piece dress. Its hem, sleeves, and collar were ruffled. It would've been adorable… on a preschooler or something. Which brought to mind what else she was wearing. Sitting on her knees she could tell the ruffly pink dress went barely halfway past her thighs. As a result, it was easy to see her underwear poking out. Her thick, white, padded underwear.Why am I wearing a diaper? Summer thought.Any further questions were interrupted by a woman entering the room. Summer immediately recognized the short black bob of her Aunt Jennifer, or "Aunt Jenn", as she had insisted on being called. Summer watched as her uncle's wife moved about the room, dusting the shelves. She paid Summer no mind, going about her task as if Summer were not even there.Summer kept quiet, terrified of drawing attention to herself. She liked Aunt Jenn, she really did. Yet even knowing Aunt Jenn was one of the nicest people Summer had known her mind imagined the woman seeing her and demanding to know why Summer was sitting in her home dressed like a toddler.Butterflies gathered in Summer's stomach as that image filled her mind. She found herself leaning forward to try ease the feeling. She heard a crinkling noise as she moved and realized it was the diaper wrapped around her. Aunt Jenn noticed, too. She looked directly at Summer when she heard the crinkle. Rather than the screaming tirade Summer had anticipated, Aunt Jenn smiled at her and finished her dusting without a word. Summer watched her aunt, wondering how she could take Summer's outlandish appearance in stride.Summer tried to speak up, tried to tell Aunt Jenn this wasn't what it looked like. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She couldn't bring herself to even make a sound as Aunt Jenn went back into the kitchen.Summer's stomach had begun to feel better, so Summer straightened out of her hunched over pose and sat back down. That was when she felt something squish against her bottom half. Summer's face turned pale, then became completely red as she began to realize what a squishy sensation from a diaper had to mean. If she had any doubts, the odor that began to hit her nostrils took care of them.When… when did that happen? Summer thought. The only thing she could think of was when she leaned forward moments before. She had just thought she was nervous. Apparently it had been more than that.Now a sound did escape Summer. A soft sobbing as she began to cry. It wasn't loud, Summer had never been loud, so no one responded to her distress. Summer's self-pity was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by a voice calling out."I'm home!" it said, breaking Summer out of her daze. She looked up an saw a young girl walk in from the front hallway. She looked just like Summer's younger cousin Bailey, except she seemed an extra foot taller than Summer remembered. She also didn't recall her cousin wearing glasses. Judging by the bag slung over Bailey's shoulder, Summer assumed she had just returned home from school. At the sight of the bag, Summer let out an involuntary whimper. Bailey's head turned to look at Summer, her head tilting one side."What's wrong, Summer?" Bailey asked with clear concern.She dropped her backpack and approached her crying, diapered, stinking cousin. Bailey's nose wrinkled as she noticed the last part. Then shook her head and sighed."Is that all it is?" Bailey ruffled Summer's hair and grinned at her. "You had me worried."Bailey walked behind Summer and lifted the back of Summer's dress. Summer felt a tug and realized only then that Bailey was checking her diaper. She heard Bailey "tsk" after a moment."Mom!" Bailey yelled out. "Summer needs a diaper change!"Summer thought she could not possibly be more mortified. Then she heard her aunt's reply."I know. I saw her in her pooping pose earlier," she called back from the kitchen. "Does it seem like she's done?""Pooping pose"? Summer thought. Her mind reeled at the implication. Was she referring to when Summer had been bent forward?Bailey looked at Summer for a few seconds before answering."Well, her face is still red, but it looks like it," she called to the kitchen. "She might have a rash, though. She's been crying.""Okay," Aunt Jenn called back. "Take her to the nursery and I'll change her when I'm done here.""Alright!" Bailey replied. She took hold of Summer's left arm. "C'mon, Summer. Let's go to your room."Bailey pulled on Summer's arm clearly trying to indicate the girl should stand up. Summer refused to move. She didn't so much fight as sit there as dead weight Bailey was not strong enough to move by force."We have to go upstairs so Mommy can change you," Bailey said as she tried to get the older girl to her feet. "Don't you want clean pants, Summer?"Summer desperately wanted just that. She just as desperately wanted to avoid moving around in dirty pants. She could feel the mess in the diaper shift and squish just from Bailey's attempts to move her. She dreaded trying to walk, let alone go up a flight of stairs, with a messy diaper smushing every step of the way.Fortunately, after a few more attempts to tug Summer to her feet, Bailey gave up."Mom! She won't move!"Summer's aunt came back into the room and saw Summer right where she'd been last, Bailey still holding her arm."In that case," she told Bailey, "go upstairs, please, and bring her changing supplies here.""'Kay." Bailey let go of Summer and got up to do as she was asked.Summer's aunt knelt down in front of the girl and smiled."It's all right, Summer," she said soothingly. "Mommy and Sissie are going to get you out of those icky pants and into a clean diaper in just a little bitty bit."She gave Summer a firm yet gentle push on her shoulder. Unlike Bailey, Aunt Jenn was strong enough to force her to move, so Summer soon found herself lying down on her left side. At that point Aunt Jenn took hold of Summer's legs, using them to help Summer turn onto her back. Summer whimpered as the motion shifted the mess around. Aunt Jenn whispered soothing nothings at her until Bailey came back down. With her head resting on the floor, Summer felt as much as heard her cousin's footsteps on the stairs and carpet as she returned."Perfect timing," Summer heard Aunt Jenn say. She then lifted Summer's legs until her bottom was off the floor. "Slip the pad under her, please."Summer's dress was hiked up past her waist as she was lowered back down. She heard something besides her diaper crinkle. She moved her head to try and see and found a plastic changing pad had been placed under her."Do you want any help?" Bailey asked as her mother got everything Bailey had brought down organized to her liking."I can handle the dirty work," Aunt Jenn replied, patting the front of the diaper Summer wore as she said it. "Keep Summer occupied, though. She's really distressed about something. Some attention from her Sissie might help.""Sure thing." Bailey sat down next to Summer's head."Hey, Summer," Bailey said in the sing-song people reserved for speaking to infants. "Look what I got!"She held a rattle over Summer's head and shook it in front of her face. Summer found herself enthralled by the jangling of the rattle. So much so she was only vaguely aware of the sound of tapes being torn. She immediately noticed the rush of the house's air conditioning on her bottom half as the diaper was opened. She closed her eyes and shuddered a little at the sensation.When the rattle stopped moving she looked at her cousin and saw her face scrunched up, clearly trying not to gag. Obviously the smell from the open diaper was getting to her. Summer couldn't help laughing at the expression on her face."You think that's funny, do you?" Bailey asked. She then started making faces at Summer, some with sounds. Summer started laughing as Bailey kept it up. Summer felt a hand grip her ankles as she started to kick."Sorry," Bailey told her mom."It's fine." Aunt Jenn pushed Summer's feet forward until her knees were at her chest."Hold her for a moment," Aunt Jenn instructed Bailey. Bailey took hold of Summer's ankles and held her legs in place. Summer couldn't see what was going on but yelped when something cold started moving across her lower body."It's weird…" Bailey said."What is?" Aunt Jenn asked."Summer's face. It's all red. It's not a sunburn and she isn't pooping anymore. It almost looks like she's blushing. Like she's embarrassed.""That is odd," Aunt Jenn replied. "I honestly can't remember Summer being embarrassed during a diaper change."Summer herself couldn't imagine not being embarrassed by a diaper change, since she didn't normally wear them at all in the first place, let alone need them changed. Obviously, her aunt and cousin thought differently. As far as they were concerned, she soiled herself often enough to earn a nickname for when it happened. Summer wanted to tell them to stop. To stop wiping her rear end. To stop talking like she wasn't even there. To tell them that, yes, she was embarrassed at being stripped down in front of her younger cousin after soiling herself.Say something! Summer screamed at herself. You're seventeen years old, for Heaven's sake, not seventeen months!She said nothing. She did nothing. Summer laid there, with that younger cousin holding Summer's legs so her dirty bottom was on full display to her aunt. That aunt was cleaning her niece's most private areas like it was the most normal thing in the world."All clean!" Aunt Jenn announced. Bailey continued to hold Summer's legs. Summer heard more crinkling noises and only after they stopped did Bailey lower Summer's lower body back down to the floor. Summer felt her bottom rest on something soft. Before she could register the obvious, Aunt Jenn was already sprinkling powder on Summer's lower half. After that she took the front of the clean diaper and folded it over Summer's front.Once it was secured, Aunt Jenn took Summer's hands and pulled her back up into a sitting position. Before standing up herself, she gave Summer a kiss on the forehead."All better now, huh?" she asked. She stood up before Summer could think of answering, revealing to Summer she was likely not expecting one."Do you have homework, Bailey?" she asked, turning her attention to her daughter."Just a little," Bailey said. "I'll have it done before dinner."Aunt Jenn agreed to that and went back to whatever she'd been up to in the kitchen. Bailey didn't leave. Instead she got her backpack. Summer flinched when Bailey plopped it down next to the coffee table. Bailey sat on her knees on the carpet next to Summer and began working. Summer sat passively and watched as her cousin worked on math. It seemed more advanced than the fourth grade math she remembered taking. That was when she noticed one corner of the worksheet Bailey was using. On it was what looked like a teacher's name. Below it were the words "sixth grade.""Sixth?" Summer asked out loud. Bailey looked up, then back down at her paper as she followed Summer's gaze."Yep, that's a six." Bailey smiled at Summer. "That's there to show I'm in sixth grade."Summer stared, but said nothing further. Bailey went back to her work, leaving Summer to her thoughts.Since when is Bailey in sixth grade? Summer thought. Then again, since when is Bailey suddenly a foot taller than she used to be? Since when did she wear glasses?Summer began looking around the room more. This time she was looking for something specific. She saw a clock and a few digital displays on some of the electronics, but all of them only had the time. That alone wouldn't confirm what she had begun to suspect.The kitchen! Summer thought. She stood up from the coffee table and began walking to the kitchen where her Aunt Jenn was currently cleaning the counter tops. Summer winced as she heard the diaper crinkle with her every motion. Bailey watched for a moment then went back to her schoolwork. In the kitchen, Summer looked around, trying to find what she was after.There, Summer found a calendar on the wall next to the pantry. On the bottom was the month and various little notes written in, such as Summer herself having a doctor appointment on the sixteenth. On the top page, mixed in with a picture of frolicking puppies, was a four digit number. Summer looked at the last digit and began to panic.Two years? she thought. The calendar's year was two years ahead of what she could last remember. She had been right, there was a gap. A gap of two years. Two years in which her cousin had hit at least one growth spurt and entered the tail end of elementary school. Two years during which she had been prescribed glasses. Two years during which Summer had become an overgrown baby.Summer tried to remember anything she could from before today. Everything was hazy at best. She could remember Mommy-no, Aunt Jenn singing to her. Bailey playing with her. Daddy… no, Uncle Henry managing to carry her. None of the memories were clear. Rather they were apparently things that happened enough she could remember them through sheer frequency. The first memory she could recall with any clarity involved her father.As the memory of his scowling face entered Summer's mind, she squatted into a fetal position, burying her head in her legs and starting to sob."Summer?!" Summer heard her aunt's voice as if it were far away. She didn't even notice the woman bend over and wrap her arms around the girl."I'll do better, Daddy," Summer moaned."You always say that," she heard her father's voice answer, "and you always fail to keep your word. You often do worse than before. Does that make you an idiot, a liar, or both?"Summer sobbed loudly. Instinctively leaning into Aunt Jenn's embrace. "I'll do better!" she sobbed."It's all right, sweetheart. Everything's all right." Soothed by her aunt's voice, Summer gradually quieted down."Mom, is Summer okay?" Bailey asked from the kitchen doorway."I think she had some kind of flashback," Aunt Jenn explained. She helped Summer to her feet and helped her into the living room. She laid Summer down in on a blanket on the floor. She went back to the kitchen, leaving Bailey with the older girl just long enough to return with a bottle."Drink this, sweetie, you'll feel better." Aunt Jenn handed Summer the bottle and helped hold it to the girl's lips. Inside the bottle was sweet juice that Summer began to suck down greedily. As she did, she heard Aunt Jenn start to sing, and everything become hazy again. -------------------- Summer awoke to a smell much nicer than a dirty diaper. I'm the distance, she heard sizzling she realized was coming from the kitchen. Someone was cooking."Look who's awake," Summer heard a man's voice ask. Her eyes went to the sofa where she saw her Uncle Henry. He had something in his hands. Next to him, holding the same thing, was Bailey. She was intently focused on the television. Summer turned her head in that direction and saw a colorful video game on the screen. She got caught up in it herself for a moment. So much so she didn't notice the game pause nor Bailey kneel down where she lay. "Hey, sleepyhead," Bailey tickled Summer lightly across her belly. Summer laughed and tried to pull her dress down to cover herself."Don't excite her too much," Uncle Henry told her. "Her late nap is already going to make her impossible at bedtime."The ticking stopped. Once Summer blinked away the tears she saw Bailey looking at her father with a serious expression on her face."You didn't see her this afternoon," Bailey told him. "She needed that nap. She's already in a better mood now.""I know that, sweetheart." Uncle Henry pressed buttons on what Summer now realized was a game controller and behind her the TV went dark. "You and your mother were quite clear. How's Summer's diaper?"Bailey rested a hand on the front of Summer's diaper for a moment."Wet, but just a little," Bailey said. Summer tensed. "Mom's giving her a bath tonight and she's already pooped, so she'll keep."Summer moved around a little, squeezing her legs together and squirming. Indeed, the padding felt different than she remembered when Aunt Jenn had diapered her before. Summer realized she had wet herself in her sleep.An image entered Summer's mind at that realization. A memory of herself, late at night. A memory of a maid wordlessly stripping sheets off a bed. Standing at the door, silhouetted by the light in the hallway, was her father. She didn't need to see his face clearly to know it was scowling, or maybe sneering at his ten year-old daughter's lack of control. He blocked the door, preventing the maid from leaving until Summer, already full of shame from her accident, removed her wet panties and nightdress and handed them over. "Bubble kissie!" A shout suddenly interrupted Summer's thoughts as Bailey blew a raspberry on Summer's stomach. Summer squealed in a way she couldn't remember ever doing before."You keep that up and you're the one staying up with her if she doesn't want to go to sleep," Summer heard her Aunt Jenn say from the kitchen door. "Dinner's about ready, so get Summer seated."Bailey complied, taking Summer's hands in her own and helping her sit up. This time Summer didn't resist when Bailey pulled on her to suggest she stand up. Bailey let Summer to the dining room, where four chairs were set up.Summer was guided to one chair and told to sit down. She did and was promptly reminded of her wet diaper as it squished under her."Oh, please," Bailey said dismissively at the expression on Summer's face. "You've sat in worse."Says you, Summer did not say out loud. Of course, if she had indeed spent two years as a baby, Bailey was probably right about that.Bailey tied a bib around Summer's neck while Aunt Jenn and Uncle Henry brought plates over. Summer immediately noticed three differences between her plate and the rest of the family. Her meat was already cut up, her drink was in a plastic sippy cup, and there was a noticeable lack of metal silverware. While even Bailey used a knife and fork to cut into what looked like chicken, her elbow precariously close to her glass of juice, Summer had an oversized spork and the next closest thing to a baby bottle. She took a few stabs at the meat and eventually managed a couple bites. Then she started getting frustrated and began just eating her chicken by hand."Two bites before abandoning the fork," Bailey said. "That's a record.""She's feeding herself this time, at least," Uncle Henry said."She's been a lot better lately about needing to be hand fed," Aunt Jenn said.Summer froze, suddenly self conscious with everyone's attention on her eating habits."You're fine, Summer," Uncle Henry assured her with a smile. "Keep eating."Reluctantly, Summer continued eating her food by hand. Summer didn't take part in any of the conversation, nor was she apparently expected to. The grown-ups talked about their days at home, work, and school respectively and left the baby to herself except to wipe her hands and face when she finished. Summer stayed in her seat, unsure whether she was excused and not sure how to ask. Everyone else, slowed by conversation and having to actually cut up their food, was still eating. Bailey seemed to hit a particularly stubborn bit of chicken as she was struggling to cut it. When she finally succeeded, her arm slipped and sent her elbow right into her glass, sending it crashing to the floor."Bailey!" Aunt Jenn exclaimed."Sorry!" Bailey said as her father moved to start cleaning the glass and spilled juice off the floor.Summer felt a hand clamp on to her shoulder and turned to see Aunt Jenn holding it, pushing down if Summer tried to move, and risk her bare feet around broken glass."How many times have we told you to be careful about your glass?" Aunt Jenn scolded."Sorry!" Bailey said again. "I didn't notice it was right there.""That's my point, Bailey. You've said over and over you'd be more careful, now look." Aunt Jenn sighed in frustration.As Summer watched her cousin's expression fall as her mother scolded her, a strange sensation came over Summer. She blinked several times, only for her vision to blur each time. She brought a hand up to her face and felt the tears running down it."How many times have you been told?" A voice rang in her head."Obviously you weren't thinking!""Is this all your promises are worth?""Bailey's good!" A voice cried out. Summer realized it was her own."Bailey's good," she repeated. "Bailey played with me! Don't yell!"Everyone stopped to like at Summer. Then Summer, her voice much quieter, said "Please don't yell."Summer closed her eyes and began to sob. For a moment the only sounds were her crying and her uncle's continued collecting of broken glass. After a few moments of that, Summer felt a weight on her legs. Summer opened her eyes to see Bailey sitting in lap, looking up at her. She grabbed a napkin from the table and dabbed Summer's tears with it. Summer wrapped her arms around Bailey and squeezed."Don't cry, Summer," Bailey said. "Mommy's not yelling. She's just a little upset, that's all. Sissie isn't in trouble…" Bailey hesitated at that, then looked to her mother. "Um… I'm not, am I?""No," Aunt Jenn replied. Then took one of Summer's hands in hers. "Even if you were, I certainly couldn't punish you now, could I?" Mother and daughter chuckled. "Still, if this happens again, Summer won't be the only one using a sippy cup at the dinner table for a while.""Mom!" Bailey's face went red."I'm not kidding," Aunt Jenn insisted through a big grin. "If you don't start shaping up, Summer will graduate to big girl cups again before you do."Bailey glared, but Summer didn't feel that same tension from a few moments ago. While they spoke Uncle Henry had finished cleaning the glass and the spill, brought Bailey a new drink, this time in a plastic cup, and everyone soon resumed eating. The only difference was Summer couldn't bring herself to let go of Bailey, forcing Bailey to finish her meal from Summer's lap.After dinner, the family moved to the living room and sat together. The television was on, but Summer didn't pay it any attention. Bailey insisted on playing peek-a-boo with her. Bailey spiced it up by doing things like funny faces or "bubble kisses" when she uncovered Summer's eyes. Summer's aunt and uncle watched a movie, content to let the children entertain themselves. Some hours later, the movie was done and Bailey had gone through more rounds of peek-a-boo, some pattycake, and rolling a ball. Aunt Jenn took Summer to the bathroom and gave her a bath. The bath was uneventful, other than Uncle Henry walking in to ask her aunt something. Nobody noticed Summer's embarrassment, as nobody really looked in her direction or seemed to care she was naked as the day she was born. Similarly, after the bath, Aunt Jenn dried Summer then led her, still nude, to her own room to be dressed for bed.Once Summer got a good look at her room, she became too surprised to be embarrassed.It was, for all intents and purposes, a gigantic nursery. Against the left wall was a bed with a raised mattress and bars that raised or lowered on tracks set into the headboard and footboard. To Summer's eye it looked like those bars could go nearly to the ceiling to make sure no large errant babies got out of bed without supervision. On the opposite wall was a long bench or table. Summer saw underneath there were several large diapers, boxes of wipes, and bottles of lotion and powder.On the floor in the room's center was a playmat with a few soft toys and blocks scattered around it. On the wall opposite the door, under the window, was an open toy box. Baby cartoon characters decorated the walls all around, which were painted a pastel pink. Other furniture, such as a nightstand and bookshelf, were lined up around the room.Summer was so busy gawking at it all she paid no attention to Aunt Jenn leading her to what she was only just realizing was a changing table and made her lie down on it. Just like in the living room, Aunt Jenn put a new diaper underneath Summer and taped it onto her after applying powder and lotion. As her aunt had her stand up, Summer was quick to notice that this diaper was even thicker than the ones she had worn already.As she marveled at that, Aunt Jenn got Summer dressed for bed. The first thing her aunt did was guide Summer's arms through the straps of a bra that, once in place, Aunt Jenn fastened from behind. Summer giggled at the idea of a baby in a bra, then realized there were probably practical issues of physical support or comfort that could not be ignored just because she didn't act like a young adult.Lost in her thoughts, Summer didn't pay attention as Aunt Jenn pulled another piece of clothing from the dresser. This one she knelt down and navigate Summer's feet into one at a time. Summer supported herself with her aunt's shoulders. Once that was done. She lifted the garment up the length of Summer's body and guided the girl's arms into sleeves on the front. That was when Summer realized she was being dressed in an adult sized footed sleeper. One that zipped up in the back, as her aunt's next step was to stand behind Summer and zip her up. Summer's attempt to reach for the zipper herself got her hands lightly slapped away, but not before she felt a button where the zipper was supposed to end. Finally, Aunt Jenn led Summer to the bed and had her lay down on it. As she raised the bars, Bailey entered the room with a baby bottle in her hands. She passed it to Summer through the crib bars. This time the bottle was just regular water. Regardless, Summer was thirsty enough to put the bottle to her lips and start drinking."You go get your pajamas on, too, Bailey," Aunt Jenn said softly. "Tell Daddy I'll be down as soon as I give Summer her lullaby.""Sure." Bailey reached through the bars one more time before she left. She brushed Summer's cheek and wished her good night. Soon after she left, Aunt Jenn began singing, just like the living room. Summer didn't fall asleep right away like before. Instead she started to think about the past several hours.So much had happened in that span of time. Summer had found herself in a diaper, a sight nobody except her seemed to find unusual in the slightest. She had soiled herself without knowing she'd done it until she sat down, only for her aunt and cousin to clean her up without a fuss. She'd lost two years of her life to what she could only assume was this second babyhood, yet when she had reacted by freaking out Aunt Jenn and Bailey had stayed by her and helped calm her. Bailey had played with and entertained her, even if they had been baby games. At dinner no one had so much as cared that she had eaten with her hands when everyone else had been using silverware.Then there was this nursery. This nursery filled with baby furniture sized to fit Summer. The adult diapers, sippy cups, and baby toys were one thing, but there was no way they just had anything like the nursery's furniture just lying around. That meant Aunt Jenn and Uncle Henry needed to have had it made specifically for Summer. She could not imagine her father doing anything even remotely like this. If she has begun acting like a giant toddler around him, he would have had her committed."Just get her out of my sight!"Summer screwed her eyes shut at the imagined sound of his voice. This time, her father's voice seemed quieter in her head. Lesser. As if it were being drowned out by something. Then Summer opened her eyes and saw that Aunt Jenn had stopped singing and was looking at her with concern.Summer should tell them. Reveal that grown up Summer was back or, at least, coming back. She should let them know she wasn't the baby they were treating her as anymore. She should show her family her gratitude by explaining they didn't need to take care of her like this anymore. She knew that she should.Yet…"Sing again!" she said instead. "Again!"Aunt Jenn smiled and began her lullaby anew. Summer found a stuffed animal in her crib and hugged it tight. This time she felt her eyelids begin to droop at the sound of her aunt's song. She knew she should speak up. But…Would that bring an end to all this? Summer asked herself. An end to feeling cared for, instead having to earn her place in this household. An end to being free of expectation, as she resumed the life she had been nothing but a failure in. An end to being unafraid?That question was the one that decided Summer. Whenever she thought about anything Before, she felt fear. She saw she the man she called father ready to pounce any error she made. Be it failing grades, misbehavior, lack of manners. Summer had lived knowing any fault would be presented to her as soon as her father knew of it.Now, she could poop her pants and nobody would scold her. Nobody cared if her table manners were subpar. She wasn't even expected to know what a six was! In her mind, she knew that was absurd. Her aunt and uncle and cousin wouldn't change if she did. They wouldn't go through all they clearly had if they didn't care for Summer.Yet…"Again…" Summer said softly as her eyes closed. Her aunt cleared her throat and sang one more time.This time, Summer feel asleep before Aunt Jenn finished.
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  6. "You can't be serious, I can't work with him!" I yelled at my teacher. "Look, Eric, I know it sucks but what do you want from me?" the teacher asked. "You both were absent yesterday when the class picked partners." "But I was sick!" I yelled at him "that dumbass probably just skipped school again. Why should my grade be hurt because of that!" "Mr.Ward, I would appreciate it if you didn't use that type of language around me." my teacher told me. "And I'm sorry, but I can't make any exceptions. Now you can either discuss what you have to do with Mr.Allen or your grade will suffer." I'm just beyond pissed as I leave the school. Why did this fucking have to happen to me! My name is Eric Ward. I'm 16 and currently about to be sent to military school. Why? Well like a dumbass I decided to fuck around my last few years of school and barely passing any of my classes. Because of that, my dad thought it might be best to send me to military school. But my dad wanted to be fair with me. I could either get my grade up and pass this year with all B's to make up for my previous bad grades, or go to military school. And wouldn't you fucking guess, my teacher decides to have a class project worth 1/4th of our grade and we have to do it with a partner. My partner, as funny as it may sound, if a fucking wannabe punk! The stereotypical bad boy punk. The type of guy you find hanging around other dumbass's with nothing going on in their lives who spend most of their time hanging out and smoking or getting drunk. With nothing left to do, I figured it I might as well go find him and tell him what's going on. I know for a fact that he's somewhere at the school because I saw him around lunch however he still didn't go to any of his classes. As typical as it might sound I found him behind the school's gym smoking with his friends. "Hey, Steve!" I yell to my partner a few feet away from him and his friends. They all turn to look at me. I could see Steve in the middle of them. His hair was all messed up, and his clothes looked like they were worn for at least the last 3 days. But instead of Steve coming over to talk to me, two of his friends did. "What do you want?" one of them asked me. "I just want to talk to Steve. It's about our class project." I told them. The two of them just laughed. "Just beat it, he doesn't want to deal with any of that stupid shit." the same guy told me. "Ya, when has school ever actually helped someone." the other guy said as they started to turn around and head back to there group. "Hey wait I need…" I tried to say until one of the guys punched me in the chest hard! "We said beat it or well kick your fucking ass." the guy told me. My chest hurt and I had no doubt that all together I would definitely get my ass kicked. I take one last look at Steve before I walk away. I tried to rub the pain away from my chest as I heard the thugs just laughing at me. But I wasn't going to give up that easily. No, if I wanted to avoid military school then I needed to talk to Steve alone. So I for the rest of the day I followed Steve and his friends everywhere. The first thing they did was go to the closest gas station and somehow got themselves a pack of cigarettes. Next they went around all over town meeting with random strangers, getting certain things, and finally stopped at someone's house. I had to keep myself well hidden for nearly 2 hours before I finally saw Steve stumble out of the house carrying 2 cans beer. "See you guys tomorrow!" he yelled to his friends as he stumbled his way down the sketchy street. I slowly followed him, trying to stay a little ways back. I jump and hide as I see Steve turn around, but when I look back I saw him leaning on a wall and sticking his hand into his mouth. Why? I then saw Steve begin to puke all over the ground! It was so disgusting I nearly puked. Once he was done he stood back up and started to walk like normal down the street. As I followed him I watched as Steve stopped one more time to hand over the 2 cans of beer he had to some homeless guy before walking away. Why the heck would he do that? I wondered. Finally, we reach the edge of the sketchy part of town and Steve walked over to a door. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door before he went inside. This must be his house. I took a good look at it and saw that it was a crappy small house. Probably only 2 rooms, if that. That's when I see a girl leave the house and Steve handing her some money. "Thanks again, see you tomorrow," she told him before she left and Steve closed the door. For a moment I was nervous as hell about walking up to the door to talk. But just the thought of military school calmed me down enough to finally knock. I waited for a little while and knocked again. Finally, the door opened a crack and Steve looked out. "Hu? What are you doing here?" Steve answered as he opened the door a little wider. At least he remembers me. "My name is Eric, we take English together." I told him. "Ok and?" Steve said. "What do you want?" "Our teacher gave us an assignment yesterday, but because I was sick and didn't come to school our teacher paired us up together," I told him. "I don't give a shit," Steve said as he shut the door in my face. That piece of shit. I knocked on the door again. And again. And finally slamming my fist on the door before Steve answered again. "WHAT!" he yelled at me. "Look, you might not care about that class but I do. This assignment is worth ¼ of our grade and I need to pass it." I told him. "I just said I don't give a shit," Steve told me as he tried to shut the door again but I blocked it with my foot. "Move your foot!" "Look, if I don't pass this class then I'm going to be sent to military school. So I don't care how long it takes I will keep coming back and annoying the hell out of you until you help." I told him. Steve just glared at me. It was at this moment I realized what I just did, I just threatened a thug how could possibly stab me at any moment. Steve finally opened the door and grabbed me by my shirt before he threw me inside his house. "Wow wow wow!" I yelled as I turned around and watched as Steve shut and locked his door before walking over to me and grabbing my shirt. "I'm going to make this clear, I don't want you coming here," he said as he pinned my body against his wall. "I don't give a shit if you have to go to military school or not. But if I see you hanging around here again I will personally…" "Steve?" a small voice asked. Both of our heads turned and I saw a little 4-year-old in pull ups rubbing her eyes as she looked at us. "Wat you doing?" the little girl asked. "N-nothing Daisy. We're just playing a little." Steve said as he let go of me and went over to the little girl. "It's bedtime now, we promise to keep it down." "O ta," Daisy said as she walked away. She was about to enter her room when she looked back at Steve. "Steve?" "Yes?" He asked. "When is mommy coming home?" the little girl asked. "Soon sweety, now go to bed while the big boys talk," Steve told the little girl who smiled at him and went into her room. "Little sister?" I asked. Suddenly Sive grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me in close. "Don't you fucking say a word!" Sive said in a harsh whisper.
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  7. 1 point
  8. This next chapter is going to be an ideal chapter to include any content that you all may want me to include. I’m going to start writing it in the next few hours so let me know what you all want
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  9. I can't recall ever using any single tab adult diapers actually. I do remember the plastic backed Depend diapers had 3 tabs. I think double tabs make the most sense.
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  10. Neat idea for a club/group by the way! I've been dabbling in electronic music for a number of years. Used to use all hardware (sequencers, drum machines and synths) recently made the switch to garage band and Logic Pro software. Amateur stuff, but it's a fun hobby. Feel free to stop by my soundcloud site:
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  11. I have the 3in pins from LL medico they work great 4 for $2.99 https://www.llmedico.com/product/40/diaper-pins/
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  12. Ha Ha Ha! This is the very first reference I can ever recall reading about "Rusty Pins". Unfortunatly, it's getting harder and harder to find diaper pins in stores these days with everyone using Pampers, Huggies and other disposable baby diapers. I do have regular plastic head baby diaper pins and they work well enough for me, but I do notice that the part that springs out and pokes through the diaper will bow out and that can cause it to possibly pop lose. I haven't had one do that yet, but it is possible. I rarely wear cloth diapers but the baby diaper pins have worked very well for me when I do, and I find them especially handy when a tape on my disposable diaper tears off from the back. I can pin on both a plastic backed and cloth backed disposable diaper same as I would a cloth diaper using diaper pins if a tape fails. And, in spite of my user name, I can't ever remember having a rusty diaper pin. have seen 3 inch diaper pins but with colored metal heads and not plastic heads. Little Christine may have the best option for you Bettypooh if regular baby diaper pins are not working in your situation.
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  13. I was around that age myself when I got the courage to go to a local store and buy my first pack of diapers (handheld scanner and reusable bags, no one but the security cameras saw me!) I can't convince you one way of the other, but I will say that you should just take the leap and try! What's the worst that happens, you hate it? If you live at home or with roommates, be discrete and respectful. Throw out your diapers daily in the outside bin (use plastic grocery bags, and drop em when you go to work or aren't seen) And same with changing in a timely matter and hiding evidence. I've thrown out diapers in the bin outside my job in a last-minute ditch scenario. If you have a cat, put cat litter scooping in the bag: no one will think twice nor think of investigating your often trash runs.
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  14. Well I don’t know if the link is any good to you but you can always ignore it. https://www.hobbygigant.nl/prym-baby-veiligheidsspelden-edelstaal-55mm-nl.html I use these myself they are a little longer than 2”. The description / content is written in three different languages suggesting international trading so maybe you can find them in the USA as well. The used stainless steel wire is very strong and they hardly bend. With me they never come lose and I have them fail / break on me maybe once per year. I use them on a daily basis as I prefer to wear cloth diapers myself. The link is from a Dutch site (sorry for that) but at least you’ll get an indication of the brand and what the look like. The one thing I am absolutely sure of these safety pins won’t disappoint you. I bought 5 boxes some (20 pieces) some six years ago and still last today. If you don’t like white ones they have colors to if I am correct but I prefer white.
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  15. 142037857426 Search this item number on eBay. I tried to link it but it wasn't letting me. They are bigger pins with plain, ducks, hello Kitty. I use them all the time and bought them here. Very good pins and they don't rust. ( I have the ducky ones in pink and blue)
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  16. Books are always my first go to lol my wife says I read too much, I never knew there was such a thing
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  17. I use the giant pins from MyProtex https://myprotex.com/collections/adult-diapers/products/protex-long-3-inch-colorful-adult-baby-diaper-pins-163
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  18. 41 weeks in (9 months 2 weeks): Unfortunately, I'm going through a bit of a "dry spell". Since I last reported having wet the bed, I've only wet in my sleep once, and that was last night! It was pretty exciting this morning to realize I had wet in my sleep, but not as exciting as the first few times. I also felt a bit of relief because I was worried it wasn't going to happen again. I'm not sure what is causing me to wet some nights and not others. I've been recently experimenting with different levels of fluid intake with unclear results: one night I drank a lot of fluid before bed to wake up with a very full bladder and an incredibly powerful urge to pee. Last night I did the same and I slept through my first wetting but woke up for every subsequent wetting. I'm not sure if drinking a lot of fluids before bed is the best idea as it is causing me to retain urine. It's possible it might be best to reduce fluid intake so my bladder fills slower and my body has a better chance to act on the signal that I need to pee before it gets too powerful and wakes me up. I'm also trying to relax as much as possible before going to bed, but that doesnt seem to always work. Ultimately, I feel like bedwetting will become more natural when I have lost most of my continence; I feel I still have almost total control but I never use it. How goes my untraining progress? I imagine if I went to a doctor, I would be diagnosed with OAB. I definitely feel like my bladder has shrank and I'm wetting between 12 and 20 times per day depending on fluid intake and how active I am. To compare activity: at work, in an 8 hour shift, I may wet 3 to 4 times as most of the time I'm sitting/driving with periods of standing and walking. Once I get home, I'm more relaxed and I'm doing chores, cooking supper or playing games, I'll have 3 to 4 smaller wettings (sometimes dribbles) in 2 to 3 hours--more than double the frequency of wetting than when at work. I have zero regrets with my decision to go 24/7. I am loving diapers more and more with each passing day. I don't even care anymore if people find out, although, I would never volunteer that I use diapers. I don't really find there's any hardships with wearing diapers. I have no problem packing a change in my car or in a bag wherever I go and I rarely need to change outside of home as I'm always wearing the right amount of protection for the amount of time that I will be out. Currently I'm going through 2 diapers a day, one during the day time and 1 for bed time. My first diaper is put on right after I get out of the shower and the second one is done an hour or so before bed. One could argue that I spend less time dealing with diapers than I would with traveling to and using toilets. To summarize: I still have control but never use it; I wet frequently and in small amounts compared to how I was before my diaper point; I wet the bed sometimes; and, I love my diapers more than ever.
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  19. Look what I found from 1995... Top picture looks really familiar...
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  20. Well, the same can be said of diapers! You have become a slave to your diapers, having to stop what you are doing at some time because you have a leaky diaper that needs to be changed. Your diaper won't wait for you! If you say, "I'll change you later" your diaper will say, "Oh no you won't! I'll start leaking right now and unless you want wet pants and furniture, you'll change me right now!" Once a toilet is installed in your house, you can use it many times indefinatly until it breaks and needs repair or you happen to run out of water for it. Diapers, on the other hand need to be purchased over and over since you throw them away after each use (unless you wear cloth diapers and then you are a slave to the washing machine). "Gee! I'm almost out of diapers! Now what do I do?" You become a slave and haul yourself to the local store to see if they have something that you can get by with until you place a new order for your favorite diapers. Now you are a slave to the store and your on line ordering! How about the rest of it? You have to buy wipes, powder, ointments and you are a slave to those purchases. Clothes. Many people buy pants that are a little larger to hide the bulk of their diapers. Also onesies or long shirts to hide your diaper from showing out the back of your pants unexpectedly. You may be a slave to the toilet if you use it, and it may always be in the same place you have to go to instead of diapers being your portable take with you bathroom, but you trade being a slave of one thing to being a slave of other diaper related things. Sure, this is just meant as a humorous reply for giggles because I wear diapers too! I just don't wear all the time and while I do find diapers very convienient at times, I find the toilet just as convienient if not more so.
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  21. Chapter 2. Now I know what you’re thinking, dear friend, and no, it’s not because I have some kind of psychic powers (even though I do). It’s because people always ask this question at the revelation of the nature of magic and humanity’s potential. It’s a natural question: If magic, as we’ve come to understand it, is just a matter of people “believing and wanting” hard enough, then why, Cornelius, is folklore filled with so many accounts of bad things? Dragons, trolls, demons, vampires, and other things that go bump in the night. If we, humanity, created these gods, why do they punish us so? Why are men so often the servants instead of the masters? You don’t have to be an award winning paranormal psychologist (like me) to answer that one: Humanity as a whole is full of hate and self-loathing in equal measure. Dragons pop up to guard treasure from enemies. A vampire sets its sights on a rival. A troll sets up its shop under a bridge that leads away from your shop. But weapons, especially magic ones, are far too often indiscriminate, and can spin crazily out of their creator’s control. More interesting are the reasons why good things go bad; the monkey’s paw, the treacherous djinn, and so on. Magic is a reflection of the human psyche. It’s more than just conscious thought made manifest, it’s everything about us made manifest, unconscious included. And just as our id pushes us to go after the things we want, our superego restrains us and gives us reason not to. Sometimes it’s a little bit of both. The monsters rise up because a bored would-be hero needs something to conquer and triumph over. (You’ll notice that there was substantially less international war when there were monsters to fight.) Other times, magic is a human being unconsciously bending reality to punish themselves in act of penance. Going through the desert without food or water for over a month, for example. Or vultures tearing at our flesh day by day only to have it grow back. So why does the God of the old testament punish when the same God of the New Testament is infinitely forgiving? Because at the time, it’s what we thought we deserved. - An excerpt from “Do You Believe in Magic?” by Cornelius Crowley. Susan What did I do to deserve this? The question kept echoing again and again in Susan’s mind as spoonful after spoonful of disgusting yellow-brown mush pushed its way past her lips. The taste of corned beef and sauerkraut drenched in thousand island dressing and pureed into a semi-solid invaded every corner of her mouth. Susan was in what was very likely her own personal hell. First off, she was in the girliest, pinkest, frilliest dress that she could ever possibly conceive of. Susan hated girly clothes, dresses especially. She might have put her natural athleticism to good use and run, except for the adult sized wooden high chair that was keeping her legs confined and her arms pinned at her sides. Because of this, the tomboy could do little more than just keep gulping down corned beef and sauerkraut while her mother kept spooning it in. The half-eaten Reuben on her plate had somehow metamorphosed into a half full jar of Reuben baby food- serving size: adult- and her mom was force feeding it to her almost faster than she could swallow the vile stuff. The sandwich had been a little dry. The gunk that Mom was spooning into her mouth made Susan think of a baby bird being fed its mother’s vomit. Speaking of baby animals, that was another bizarre monkey wrench thrown into Susan’s fight and/or flight plan. Her shirt had melted into the gaudy monstrosity clinging to her bust. Meanwhile, her pants and panties had been replaced by a full-fledged diaper. The dress, she was able to feel with her fingers, didn’t even cover the damn diaper all the way. Her new and unexpected underwear wasn’t even really under anything. Even if she somehow managed to slip out of the highchair, running with the diaper on would completely throw off her stride and she’d have a better chance of falling flat on her face than making any meaningful escape attempt. Taking it off was out of the question. She’d been trying. For some reason she couldn’t completely fathom, her fingers lost all strength and dexterity the moment she even touched the thick padding currently spreading her legs apart. At least it all of the extra cushioning made the wooden seat a bit more comfortable. At least she hadn’t pissed or shit herself. At least she wasn’t forced to sit in a wet or messy diaper…yet. Susan had a nasty suspicion that’s where this was heading. She wouldn’t put it past Janet to plan that. Likely, there was more in that jar than just pureed sandwich. Janet- Susan refused to consciously think of her mother as anything but…not if she could help it- was behind this. What this was, or what the point of it was, was completely beyond her, but Susan knew in her heart of hearts that Janet was responsible for this predicament. The complete lack of outrage, that crack about growing old but not growing up; the complete lack of surprise when her panties became babyish and disposable; the fact that right now Susan was having to do her best not to throw up pickled sauerkraut; it all pointed to Janet having known about her daughter’s reluctance to join the family business, and she had clearly taken steps to dissuade, if not all-out punish her. Wasn’t this all a little bit extreme, though? Really? Couldn’t she just have been cut out of the will or gotten shouted at? “You’re no daughter of mine” or something? To be fair though, were Susan’s suspicions all that rational? If anyone else had told her that their mother had transformed their clothes into giant versions of baby clothes- diaper included- and were force feeding them in a giant highchair in front of everyone, all because they didn’t want to continue the family business, she would signed them up for the tin-foil hat club. Maybe this was some bizarre form of food poisoning. Maybe this was all a bad dream, and Susan would wake up in a hospital bed in the E.R., muttering about having the strangest dream. Susan could only hope. Susan could have grinned and bore all of this bizarre nonsense a bit better too, if not for the other people in the building. That was the worst part; the other people. Susan had picked that table to get a quick bite to eat so she could break the news to Janet and then zip out before they could get into a proper shouting match. Now that she was dressed like a toddler and being fed like one to boot, she was front and center stage. Everyone who came in and out of Ma’s Diner could see her. As for the regulars: The old people? The local cops? The waitresses and the other usual suspects? They were cool with it. They were in on the joke. No one so much as flinched. An elderly couple paid their tab and even waved “bye-bye” to Susan as they left. There wasn’t even a hint of condescension in their eyes. Not even a snigger on their lips. She might as well have been a real baby. Had her mother hired professional actors or something? Waitresses kept taking orders, people kept eating, and the grill kept firing away, and no one either noticed or minded that a twenty-two-year-old woman was being force-fed in a highchair and diaper at the front of the room. “Oh Mommy! Look!” a high-pitched voice caused Susan to whip her head sideways, smearing sandwich sauce over her right cheek. “It’s a forever baby!” A woman and her daughter- a first grader tops- had just walked through the door. The kid was pointing. “She’s so cute!” Forever baby? The tomboy in the frilly pink dress stared down her nose at the little brat as her mother wiped her cheek with a napkin. “My name is Susan,” she growled. The kid was completely unfazed. “Hi Susan! I’m Makenzie!” Her hand was a back and forth blur. “Hi Susan! Say hi! Hi! Say hi, Susan! Say hi!” Even this one was in on it. Dejectedly, Susan sighed and said, “…Hi…” “Yay!” the little girl clapped her hands. “Good girl!” The two parents began talking over their respective offspring. “She’s adorable,” the customer said to ‘Ma.’ “Thank you,” Janet replied. “How old is she?” “Twenty-two. Twenty-three in a few months.” “Oh, you are so lucky!” the stranger gushed. “Yes, I am,” Mom agreed. The little girl started tugging at her mother’s pant leg. “Mommy, Mommy! Why are forever babies so old?” The mother stifled a giggle before saying, “Twenty-two isn’t particularly old, Makenzie.” “Older than me.” “Well,” the mother thought for a moment. “Getting older and growing up aren’t always the same thing.” That did it! That! Did! It! Susan needed no further proof at that moment to know that her mother- no fuck that; Janet- had been the cause and the reason behind all of her humiliation. This was no fever dream. The “how” of things she was still fuzzy on; though this town was still conservative enough that a dose of good ol’ fashioned public humiliation was something most people could get behind, including the local cops. Nothing was out of the realm of possibility right now. Maybe not “nothing;” she still had no idea how the highchair had come alive and grown to fit her in it, or how her casual jeans and a t-shirt combo had turned into some frilly pink mess, but thinking about that sent shivers up her spine and Susan preferred anger over fear at this moment in time. Better to just be angry at the bitch behind all this. Susan looked away from the mother and little girl gawking at her and turned to face the woman with the rubber tipped spoon and the jar of Reuben baby food, “Jan-“ WOOOMF! The spoon was past her lips, the revolting preservative filled mush oozing on her tongue. “There we go Susie!” Janet cooed. “Three more bites, baby girl, and then it’ll be time for your nap.” But Susan did not swallow. She would not be taking three more bites. Fuck that. With hate filled eyes and puffed out cheeks, Susan spat the yellow brown paste back at her mother. Not even unusually quick reflexes and fast draw on a napkin could completely save Janet’s dress. “Ooops,” the mother with the little girl chuckled, covering her mouth slightly as Janet began dabbing at her soiled dress. “I guess someone’s done eating.” Damn right. “Baaaaad baby!” The term from the first grader wasn’t a rebuke, but more of a commentary. Inwardly, Susan agreed. She was being a bad baby. Adults, by definition, make for bad babies. Janet didn’t lose her cool. She didn’t even frown. Her brow wasn’t the slightest bit furrowed. Instead, she looked at the customers that had just stopped by and said “I guess someone isn’t ready for their nap, either.” This got a good-natured chuckle from the woman, and her little girl giggled the way little kids tend to when they don’t really get the joke. Then she told them, “Flo will see you to your seats.” The two gawkers let Susan be and went to order their meal while ‘Ma’ fiddled with the tray chair. “Didn’t like that, did you?” Susan said, a feeling of petulant triumph building up. “No I did not,” was Janet’s curt reply- each word standing tense and upright like a little soldier- as she undid the tray. “You hurt my feelings. Now say you’re sorry, Susie.” Susan scoffed. “Uh…no.” Now that her hands were free, Susan took the opportunity to cross her arms in contempt to properly complete her pout. “You apologize.” Her glasses were starting to slide down her nose a bit, but she didn’t dare adjust them and ruin the moment. It was Janet’s turn to scoff. “For what?” “Seriously?” Susan asked. “For this,” she indicated the frilly pink mess clinging to her torso; “and this,” she lightly tapped on the wooden highchair, “and that,” she pointed accusingly at the now mostly empty jar of baby food. “Oh, and this!” She didn’t even have to lift the hem of her dress to point at the monstrosity strapped to her hips. “Susie, I have no idea what you’re so mad about. You look very pretty today, honey.” Janet pursed her lips for a second and added, “That’s your favorite highchair, you wanted the Reuben, and I just checked your diaper.” Then as an afterthought she added, “If you want, I can check you again.” Her mother’s right hand began making a bee-line for Susan’s crotch. Susan slapped it away, the sound of skin on skin ringing through the air like a cracked whip. The entire diner fell silent at the sound. Everyone looked up from their plates. The diapered tomboy looked back at them in contempt. So THIS was crossing the line? “Alright, fuck it,” Susan stood up and stepped down from the highchair, her pink sneakers smacking against the floor as she did, the rustle of the diaper and the fluttering of the too short dress making her hyper aware of even the most miniscule of movements. “I’m out. You’ve made your point. Older doesn’t mean grown-up. You’ve had your fun. Now I’m out.” The poor girl didn’t even make it three steps towards the door before she felt an iron grip on her wrist yanking her backwards. “Susan Leann Collins,” the voice at the end of that manacled grip told her, “you stay right there!” During her freshman year of college, Susan took a comparative religion course mostly for grins. When the class veered off into decidedly less mainstream religions- voodoo, wicca, shamanism and the like- Susan had a brief fascination with the occult. It was definitely a phase that she grew out of, and she didn’t put any stock in the stuff, but she had some fun reads anyways. It was more of a guilty pleasure than anything, much in the same way people read about the exploits of cults and serial killers; not because they are cultists or serial killers themselves, but there’s a kind of morbid satisfaction that normal, boring people can get from reading about the bizarre, objectively evil, and naively stupid. One thing led to another, and she eventually came across this book of complete schlock talking about magic as if it were a real thing. That magic happened as long as we believed hard enough or something. Most of it was pseudo-science occult psychobabble but there was one particular part that resonated with her as an odd kind of universal truth: the power of names. If you knew something’s true name you could bind it, paralyze it, make it serve you. Clearly, the author of that book had had a mother like Janet. Calling her “Susie” was a jab on her mother’s part these days. Calling her by her first and either of her two other names was a dire warning. Using her full name meant that she had crossed some sort of line and things were about to go downhill fast unless Susan tread very carefully. It was an invocation that to this day still caused her to lock her knees and freeze in place. Just like magic, Susan Leann Collins didn’t dare move. With a quiet voice and an iron hand holding Susan secure, Janet leaned in and hissed, “Now I do NOT know what has gotten into you today, young lady, and I do not normally condone spanking, but if you keep sassin’ me like that I WILL take you over my knee in front of all these people right now and spank whatever it is right outta yer little tushie. Do. You. Understand?” A little bit of southern cracker drawl had snuck its way into Janet’s accent, as it did most every time when she was angry or when Susan’s Grandma was around. The way she said the words scared Susan just as much as the words themselves. This was no bluff. She’d do it. The young woman dressed like a toddler princess looked at her mother and around the dead quiet room, all eyes on them. She had forgotten how strong her mother could be, especially when angered. It would be a wonder if there wasn’t bruising on her wrist when this was done. “Do…you…understand?” Janet repeated. “Yes Mommy,” Susan squeaked, then immediately kicked herself for her choice of words. Ma’am would have sufficed, or Mom- anything appropriate deferential- but Mommy? What had she been thinking? The ridiculous outfit she’d been wearing most likely had manipulated her frame of mind. At least the few customers left had stopped staring and gone back to their tuna melts and liver with onions. Her mom nodded. “Alright then,” she said, before turning her head and calling to the back shouted. “Phyllis! Bring me Susie’s diaper bag! We’re going for a walk!” Diaper bag? Walk? As in she was going outside? Dressed like THIS?! The poor girl’s face almost matched her dress. The sound of the grill sizzling was drowned out by a pulsing pounding in her head. Phyllis, Mom’s oldest employee and a woman who was perpetually seventy if she was a day, toted over a large hot pink satchel with bunnies stitched in the front and handed it over. “You go get some fresh air, young’un and enjoy the ride.” A withered, shaking hand that still had the ability to write down orders and dice vegetables with uncanny speed and accuracy, favored Susan with a slight pinch of her cheek, before the little old woman turned around and walked back the way she came. Phyllis was so old that she’d known Susan since the first time she was in diapers, and that dainty little cheek pinch brought back at least a dozen half-forgotten memories; the kind where she wasn’t sure if she actually remembered them, or had been told about them enough through the years that she remembered the stories more than the events themselves. A feeling not much different than a rock hitting the bottom of an empty well landed in Susan’s stomach. Things were about to get so much worse. Slinging the pink satchel…diaper bag…satchel over her shoulder, Janet began walking for the door, pulling her daughter behind her. “C’mon baby girl. Let’s go for a walk.” Still cowed into submission by threats of pain and embarrassment, Susan followed, her dress swishing, diaper crinkling, and legs waddling every step outside. A large- comically large, in fact- umbrella stroller was parked just outside the doors; no doubt about who it was intended for. Susan didn’t dare resist as she was guided into the hammocklike wheelchair. Two straps fastened over her shoulders and clicked together in the middle of her chest. A third buckled up between her legs, the flat nylon rope pressing up against her padded crotch, giving a thorough and constant reminder of her so-called underwear. The dress would be no help here. How could anyone even call this puffy sleeved monstrosity a dress, anyway? It was more for show than concealment. Mom gave Susan a quick check over once she’d been buckled into her rolling humiliation-mobile, and nodded, more to herself than to anyone else. Still leaning over her daughter, Janet plucked a sizeable baby bottle out of a side pocket of the diaper ba-…the pink satchel, and placed it in the young woman’s lap. “Something to wash your lunch down with, baby.” Janet disappeared behind the stroller and soon the grainy grinding sound of rubber wheels on concrete whispered Susan’s departure from the safe and private confines of her mother’s diner. Unable to let the plastic bottle just sit in her lap, Susan turned the foreign object over in her hands, sloshing the not quite ivory liquid around as she did so. It was milk, obviously, but not quite; something seemed off about it. It seemed thicker, and the color was a little darker, closer to a vanilla milkshake. A protein shake perhaps, or maybe it was raw and unpasteurized? Goat milk? Not that it mattered. Susan wasn’t about to stick the damn rubber nipple in her mouth and find out. “OH MY GOD!” a cooing shriek snapped out of her analysis and swiveled her head around. Suddenly disoriented, she took a moment. While Susan had been distracting herself with the contents of a baby’s beverage holder, her surroundings had changed considerably. To her right was the street, to her left, the parking lots and storefronts of the few non-franchised stores left in town. Road signs and familiar landmarks signaled that they’d made it a block or two. Up ahead was the turnoff for the public library. Susan’s eyes found the source of the high-pitched exclamations. Standing in front of her, was a broad shouldered but attractive young woman in her late twenties or early thirties. Her glasses, almost identical to Susan’s and the thick turtleneck sweater gave her the air of an academic despite her witless and star struck expression. She looked older than Susan, but not by a whole lot; much in the same way that high schoolers didn’t quite look like college kids, and college kids didn’t quite look like adults out in the working world. The difference would have been small and ultimately unimportant under normal circumstances. These were not normal circumstances. “Is that Susan?” the stranger asked Susan’s mother. “I almost didn’t recognize her!” Another rock crashed in the well of Susan’s stomach. This stranger knew her somehow, from where didn’t matter, and now she was participating in this discombobulating punishment she’d somehow earned. The stranger looked down, expectantly at her, all smiles. “Hi Susan!” she cooed. “It’s good to see you. Do you remember me? Do you?” There was something familiar about her, but Susan had never been particularly good at remembering faces. The woman waving her hand in front of Susan’s nose just kept smiling and waving, expecting it to jog her memory. “Linda used to babysit you when you were younger, remember?” Mom offered. Linda?...Linda…. Linda! More memories, long ago filed away and gathering dust bubbled up to the forefront of the diapered girl’s mind. She’d been eight. Linda had been sixteen. It hadn’t been a huge difference in age, but it was big enough to where Linda had been given authority over a young Susan while Mom went out on dates. Linda had been an objectively good babysitter for those two years before she went off to college; neither too permissive, nor too authoritarian. She neither neglected the girl that Susan was, nor treated the eight- year-old as an incompetent child. Today was a completely different scenario. For most, it’s awkward enough meeting former teachers and caregivers after they’ve grown up and come into their own. Everyone tends to remember the child that a person used to be rather than the adult that they are, much to the younger person’s chagrin. For Susan, the contrast between the adult she was and the child she had been was suddenly less stark. If Janet was behind this…this...this whatever it was- a notion that was seeming more ludicrous as each event unfolded- she had certainly taken a lot of care and preparation in executing it. Nervous, embarrassed and needing something to look busy with, the young woman in the stroller slipped the nipple of the baby bottle into her mouth. “Winda?” she mumbled around the rubber teat as she sank down into the canvas of the stroller as best as the restraints would allow her. “She’s feeling shy, right now,” Mom’s voice explained from behind the babied woman. The other woman beamed and let out a sympathetic “Awwwww,” as she stood and smoothed out her sweater, making eye contact with Susan’s mother. ”She’s so sweet.” “She normally is,” Janet agreed. A playful smirk danced across the third woman’s lips. “Normally?” She stole a faux disapproving glance back down to Susan, sneaking a wink in. Without thinking about it, Susan timidly pulled on the rubber nipple with her lips, causing the contents to dribble onto her tongue. The milk tasted like regular milk. Maybe a little sweeter and a little more watered down than usual, but otherwise it tasted like regular old moo-cow milk. It was a bit like how she liked her coffee, lots of cream and sugar, but someone had goofed and forgotten to add the coffee beans. Still, perfectly serviceable. Susan tilted the bottle up and took another sip. “She’s just being a little fussy today,” Janet spoke to Linda, “can’t say why.” The fear of an escalated and very physical punishment still burning in her brain, Susan chose to hold her tongue and kept sucking down her watered-down milk. Susan’s old babysitter nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. Phillip does that, too, from time to time. I think it’s a Forbies thing.” “Forbies?” Mom asked. “Forever babies,” the lady clarified. “Kind of a nickname on the internet.” They were talking about Susan as if she weren’t there, talking over her head. As if she couldn’t understand, or if her opinion didn’t matter. More than the infantile outfit; more than the stroller or the bottle; it was these micro-signals that everyone had been sending her, these little things that made the young independent woman feel incredibly…small. Susan popped the bottle out of her mouth. “Forever babies?” she echoed Linda. That made the second person she’d heard mention that phrase. Something wasn’t adding up. Susan’s whole theory on the how and why she’d ended up like this was disintegrating in her mind. She sat back up in the stroller and looked to her mother. A condescending head pat was what Susan was rewarded with. “Finish your bottle, Susie. Grown-ups are talking.” The diapered girl’s face flushed red, and Susan felt her blood boil with anger. A look from her mother lowered Susan’s impending tantrum into indignant pouting. Susan bit into the nipple of her bottle and busied herself sucking down the sweet watered-down milk. If she’d bitten her lip, she very well may have drawn blood. “See what I mean?” Janet asked Linda. WHOOSH. A passing car alerted Susan that there were more than just two sets of eyes out here in the open looking at her in her present condition. Susan sank back down as far as she could, hoping the stroller would at least hide her face. “So, how’s Phillip? How are your parents?” Janet asked the other ‘grown-up’. Linda nodded. “Phillip’s good. Mom and Dad still love having him around. It’s given me the chance to grow up and strike out on my own, guilt free. No chance of empty nest syndrome, y’know?” “Yeah,” Mom let out a contented, lazy sigh. “I do indeed.” It was almost like she was purring. Susan felt a twinge in the last place she currently wanted to feel a twinge. When was the last time she’d gone to the toilet? This morning after breakfast? Or was it just before lunch? Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have mattered. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be strapped to a rolling chair with pixie decorated padding touching her nethers. “Uh..Janet…” Susan spoke up. Janet seemed unconcerned and continued talking with the woman not much older than her daughter. “Playing at the park today, I assume?” “Nah,” Susan’s ex-babysitter replied. “There’s a special event going on at the college today. University is doing outreach and special services as fundraisers. Enrollment has been down the last couple of years because…y’know.” Mom nodded in reply. Apparently, she knew that, too. “Jan?” Susan tried to interrupt, the need to go becoming an uncomfortable, swelling, almost burning sensation. She stopped sucking on the bottle. Why the hell had she kept sucking on the bottle? Why had she chosen to suck on the bottle in the first place? “Oh that’s nice!” Janet talked over Susan. “If I had known, I would have taken the day off and taken Susie. How are you though? What are you up to?” “I’m walking to work. I’m a librarian, now. In a day or two, they’re doing a forever babies’ read-in day.” “Oh, Susie would love that!” The need, whether it was a physiological or psychological- an actual fullness of her bladder or just an itch that got worse the more one thought about it-it was there and growing. Her body was screaming at her for release. “Mother?” Susan spoke up a little bit louder. Her voice more of a groan. “Motherrrrrrr?” Susan’s mother kept the conversation going despite Susan’s wriggling and obvious growing discomfort. “I really should take Susie over to the Library more often. Now, it’d be an extra treat, considering that you’re there.” “Mom?” Not much time left. Linda added “I don’t mind sitting for her again, either. I could use the extra money, too. Librarians don’t make a whole lot of money.” “Mommy?” Out of time. Susan’s bladder betrayed her. A flood of warm wet liquid gushed out of her involuntarily, her body disobeying every screaming command her mind issued. The dripping warmth splashed against her privates before the thirsty padding wicked it away and absorbed it, the strap between her legs forcing the garment up against her the whole time. A sigh of relief mixed with a shudder of revulsion as the tomboy publicly debased herself. The conversation halted. Both women looked down at the captive girl. Mommy gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Susie?” “I…” Susan stuttered, her face flushing and her breath catching. “I peed.” Mom’s response: “Oh, is that all?” Those few words hurt Susan more than anything else uttered thus far. Is that all? As if her problems didn’t matter? Is that all? As if she had no right to feel as awful as she felt in that moment. Is that all? “I just pissed myself,” the poor girl choked out, her voice cracking and tears pooling in her eyes. Her mother’s first response was “Susie! Language!” Then Mom looked at the other grown-up and apologized. “I have no idea where she’s getting that from. I’m going to have to keep an ear out.” Susan was crying openly now. “I just pissed my pants!” “Honey. Don’t talk like that,” Janet chided. “You didn’t piss yourself. You just went pee-pee. You’re wet is all. And you’re not even wearing any pants, silly goose.” A wave of sobs racked Susan’s body as she thrashed impotently in the stroller. “Thinking about potty training?” Linda asked Janet, indicating Susan’s outburst. “Oh, that’s a fad.” Janet waved the idea off. “Forever babies can never be fully potty trained, anyways.” A beat. “Why? Is Phillip potty training?” Linda could only giggle and shook her head. “Okay, Linda. It was nice running into you, but I think Susie here needs some more stroller time.” Now with a wet diaper pressed against her, Susan continued being pushed down the sidewalk. As the urine in her diaper cooled, so did her temper. But there was no perspective or rationalization; no clarity that came as her pulse lowered and her breathing slowed. Confusion would be too strong a word for what Susan was feeling; instead a kind of questioning, almost dream like haze settled over her. As the stroll continued, more people passed by getting a good look at the girl in all her shame. Even the ones who Mom didn’t stop to talk to made sure to comment about the ‘baby’ in the stroller. “Hey there, cutie!” “Awwwww! What an adorable outfit!” “Such a pretty little girl!” Cutie? Adorable? Pretty? How could that be? Susan Collins had been called a lot of things in her life, most of them complimentary- attractive, sleek, and on one drunken occasion, seductive- but she could never remember being referred to as something so…so…girly! Furthermore, the diaper had swelled, a fine crease pressing into the strap separating her legs and there was more than a slight discoloration where the majority of her accident had been absorbed. How could anyone be “cute” or “pretty” like that? All the same, Susan couldn’t help but hide her face behind her hands with each new compliment and cooing from the random passerby. She couldn’t even bear to uncover her eyes after a point; better to just let this trip pass in darkness. Her ears were not immune, however, and the muffled footsteps and polite greetings of passersby and the engines of automobiles did nothing to lessen her blush. They were looking at her. They were all looking at her. “Oh, hi Susan!” That voice! She knew that voice! Susan unshielded her eyes and followed the voice to its source. It was coming from behind her. The tomboy leaned out of the stroller and craned her neck. “What are you looking at, baby?” her mother asked. Susan wasn’t so sure herself. They had arrived at the bus stop along Pennsylvania Avenue, just before the turnoff on North South Drive. Apparently, Mom had only been taking her around the block. On the bus stop bench, lounging in an older woman’s lap, was a girl that Susan had seen only yesterday. “Vanessa?” Vanessa Carlyle was a junior, but they had taken some of the same math classes and had helped each other cram for exams in the past. They weren’t particularly close, and had never socialized beyond one helping the other studying, but they knew each other. The young woman with her head in what could only be her mother’s lap did so wearing nothing but a baby blue shirt with matching bonnet, booties, and of course, a diaper. “Hiya,” she repeated. The stroller slowed to a stop and backed up a few steps. “What in the hell are you doing?” The college junior didn’t seem to notice the tone of accusation in which she’d been asked. “Oh, y’know. Just waitin’ for a bus with my Mommy; gettin’ some milk.” A white strand of liquid clung to the right corner of the other girl’s mouth. Just like Susan, a bottle of creamy liquid was tightly grasped between two otherwise very adult hands; the yellow nipple speckled with milk and glistening with saliva. The older woman looked to Vanessa, then to Susan, and back to Vanessa. “Vanessa,” the older woman said, “Finish your ba-ba before the bus gets here.” A “Okay, Mommy” was uttered before the twenty-one-year old in the baby gear lifted the bottle back to her lips started slurping at the rubber teat, making little animal mewling sounds as she; her mother all the while cradling her head and gently rubbing her ears. This wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t a mind fuck. No way this was a performance. If there was any doubt left in Susan’s mind of that fact, what happened next dispelled the idea completely. Still lying down, Vanessa lifted her knees till they were almost touching her chest and began grunting, her lips still pulling the bottle nipple. Vanessa’s mother turned her head and noticed what was going on. “You wanna stop drinking for a second?” A guttural grunt, uttered by silly, sweetly smiling lips and slightly shaking head was the only response Vanessa gave. A final “Uuuuh” moaned out of Vanessa’s throat as the back of her diaper expanded in a lumpy bubble. The twenty-one-year old let out a quiet sigh as she lowered her legs down, likely spreading the newly deposited contents in her diaper. She only sucked harder on the bottle as a result. Vanessa had just messed herself and couldn’t be bothered to stop drinking milk in the process. A gust of wind, and the smell it carried with it, cemented this fact in Susan’s mind. Susan’s own rubber nipple found its way back to Susan’s lips if only to drown out the putrid taste that the wind had carried with it. “Whew!” Vanessa’s ‘Mommy’ exclaimed with a cringe. “Someone made a stinky. Was it you? Was it you?!” She sniffed again, and then stopped cooing at her adult daughter. “As soon as you’re done, it’ll be time for a change.” Susan’s peer mumbled around the nearly empty bottle. “Uh-fay!” Janet decided to insert herself in the conversation. “It seems our little girls know each other.” “They must go to the same daycare,” the other mother replied; a notion that was reinforced as the girl in the bonnet wiped her mouth off and nodded her head, wiping the last trails of milk and spittle from her lips. The mothers ignored her input as much as if the “little girl” might not know what she was talking about. “Big Little?” Janet asked. “That’s the one,” the other middle-aged woman replied. Mom extended her hand. “Janet Collins.” Vanessa’s mother glanced to Susan, still in a kind of subdued shock, before taking the hand and shaking it politely. “Martha Williams,” she said. “Now if you excuse me, my little stinky butt here needs a change.” For her part, Vanessa just giggled as if “little stinky butt” were a term of endearment. Vanessa’s mother slid out from beneath her and grabbed at a bag that had been resting between her feet. She took out a cutesy printed diaper that was far too big for any child to wear; while like a toddler who had long grown used to the routine, Vanessa stretched out on the bench, and reached her hands to the sky, as if preparing to grasp at something that wasn’t there yet. “So how old is she?” Mom asked while the other mom dug out a pack of baby wipes, and a ring of rainbow colored plastic keys. Susan just gawked stupidly, as her college aged peer grabbed at the fake keys and amused herself thumbing through them flailing them in the air; making them click-clack against each other. Vanessa’s mom rolled up her sleeves and replied, “Twenty-one.” Her hands shot down and ripped the tapes of the diaper off. It felt as if Susan’s eyes were about to fall out of her skull. No…they weren’t going to…were they? The poor girl couldn’t stand it any longer. “Vanessa,” a flabbergasted Susan asked, “what the fuck are you doing?” Vanessa’s legs were being lifted into the air, her feces covered backside was out in the open air while her mother went to work. No one else was so much as flinching. “Gettin’ muh butt wiped,” Vanessa replied, not even looking away from the plastic keys as she flipped one over top of the other in an endless loop. “Why?” It was as if Susan’s question born out of shock and confusion was nothing more than a set up question; like when you ask a friend what they’re up to tonight right before inviting them out for drinks. If Susan had a retort or follow up question, it was drowned out by her mother’s fearsome rebuke. “THAT’S IT!” Janet roared. “I WARNED YOU ABOUT THE POTTY MOUTH LITTLE GIRL!” The world was a blur of motion as Janet unbuckled Susan from her stroller, and sitting on the ground, took her daughter over her lap. Her feet hadn’t even touched the ground before the she found herself face down looking at the concrete. A swift adjustment saw the hem of Susan’s so-called dress flipped up and her ass sticking up above her head. How had Mom gotten so strong? Susan didn’t have time to wonder long about that as her backside was suddenly pelted with stinging blows. Hornets were stinging her behind! She was being whipped! Even the thick padding of the did little cushion the beating. On instinct, her arms and legs flailed and kicked, her nails dug at the ground, as she tried to tear herself away from her mother’s grip. A single forearm pinned her- belly down, ass up- to her mommy’s lap. Within seconds the mouthy tomboy was screaming out in pain…then crying out…then wailing…then bawling. She couldn’t breathe! She was having to gasp for air just so that she could scream again. With fiery certainty the truth broke upon Susan: Mom wasn’t playing games. This wasn’t a dream. The entire world had gone mad. A panicked, almost animal impulse took over. End the pain. End the pain. Apologize. Beg. Anything to make it stop. Anything for relief. “I’m sorry!” the tomboy in the frilly dress cried out. Janet stopped paddling. “What was that?” “I’m sorry!” Susan repeated. “I’m sorry, Mommy!” “For?” “For…for being a potty mouth.” Susan drooped her head in exhaustion and defeat. There was a tense pause…then, “Okay, I think you’ve had enough, baby.” Susan felt the weight of her mother’s forearm ease off her, and Susan scrambled off, the grit of the concrete scraping against her sneakers. Mom was on her feet first and helped Susan to hers. The distance between bottom of her dress and the bottom of her diaper had increased. It sagged between her legs with a noticeable weight. Either she had wet more than she thought, or she had flooded the padding a second time during the thrashing she’d just received. Vanessa sat up on the bench, a fresh diaper taped around her hips. “Potty mouth and potty pants!” she giggled as if she hadn’t just had her own ass wiped moments ago. “Maybe that’s why she was being so fussy,” the other middle aged woman offered. “I’ve known forever babies to act up when they need a change.” Mom shook her head, still holding Susan’s hand. “Oh no. My little girl’s been pushing it all afternoon” she said. “Can’t say why.” She looked at the lumpy padding dangling between her daughter’s legs. “Though she could definitely use a change. Do you mind?” The mother-daughter couple scooted away to clear a space. Petrified, Susan found herself moved and laid down on the same bus stop bench. Through some combination of exhaustion, terror, and maybe even reality itself pulling her down, Susan couldn’t so much as sit back up while her mother fetched the hot pink diaper bag…satchel…no…diaper bag, and gathered the necessary supplies. “Okay Susie, let’s get you changed.” “Please no,” she whimpered as Mom reached for the tapes. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Dakota This was not the party that Dakota had walked out on. Not at all. The only thing that she recognized was the chocolate cake. Everything else was strictly toddler fare. Streamers, balloons, tables draped with plastic Sesame Street tablecloths along with matching paper plates and napkins littering them. People were even wearing those dorky little cone hats that strapped to the chin. A rendition of “Old Mac Donald Had a Farm” played over the expensive sound system. Things had taken a sudden and inexplicable turn for the strange, but by far the strangest part about the party were the people themselves. When she had lured Brendan into the guest room for a quick suck and fuck, Dakota knew for a fact that the dress code had been country club casual: Men in button up polos tucked into their khakis, women in breezy, flowing dresses that didn’t give too much away but still tickled the imagination; heels optional but preferred. It’s what had made Dakota’s nearly skin-tight little number that much more of a standout. Now, boys (fuck calling them men…it just didn’t work) were in sneakers instead of loafers; some with the little lights that flashed with every step. (Did they really make those in adult sizes?) A few still had khakis on, though they were by and large shorts with noticeable bulges in the butt and crotch. If Dakota had any lingering doubt as to what lied beneath their pants, the tops of their diapers were sticking out of the wide elastic waistbands. The other boys wore plaid rompers, or shortalls (not just for girls anymore, apparently.) Minutes ago, Brendan’s female friends and relatives, as well as girlfriends of guy friends, had mingled naturally with the menfolk, all forming into little couples and cliques. Since the kiddie music had piped in, the girls had separated themselves from the boys almost entirely, and now two distinct groups had formed based around gender. Every woman around Dakota’s age was still wearing a dress, but they were less modest, less concealing, while still somehow managing not to be sexy in the least: Peter Pan collars and baby doll dresses with hems too short to hide bulky padded underwear; white tights stretched so thin anyone could still make out the cartoon character designs on the back of diapers; hair tied up with curly bows and ribbons. All of this flooded Dakota’s vision. Clothes and mouths across the room were smeared with bits of icing and chocolate cake, regardless of gender. Along the periphery, a handful of older and middle-aged people (parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles) watched the gathering of young adults dressed as tots. They were smiling, and seemingly content, but with a look of caution in their eyes; as if they might need to intervene at any moment. They were dressed less ridiculously than the twenty-something guests, but there was something distinctly different all the same; lots of jeans and old worn out t-shirts, stuff that they could afford to get dirty. Their constant, tired gaze reminded Dakota of the teachers guarding the punch bowl at every middle and high school dance she’d gone to. Dakota, too, stood out. Her gorgeous blonde hair was now wrapped up in pigtails, her shoes were missing, and the sexy little red dress she’d worn had somehow shrunk to a Dora The Explorer T-Shirt, that stopped just short of her childish-looking diaper. Her diaper?! Dakota looked down between her legs. Her panties had become something puerile and disgusting. Cartoon balloons and stars ran all along it from front to back as it sagged and swelled a bit from the pee it had just absorbed. It was a bright and happy façade to mask its repugnant purpose: to hold her piss and shit until someone could be bothered to replace it with another. Well…not HERS, per se, even though she was wet and the diaper had done its job…but…but…-Dakota felt flustered. Just because she had pissed herself without meaning to didn’t mean she was childish or infantile or stupid, right? Right. She had bigger problems to worry about than suddenly pissy panties. Still gawking at the transformed party, the would-be gold-digger glanced down at the Ring Pop that had been slid onto her finger. That had been an engagement ring before, hadn’t it? A modest one, unfortunately, but it had been right. Her eyes traveled up her slender digits to her fingernails. They’d changed too. Once they had been shiny and painted and well cared for and a little pointy. Now they were plain and boring and they looked a little chewed on. Was that a hangnail? “Go on and play, Dakota dear.” Brendan’s mother gave her a slight nudge. “Go have fun. It’s Brendan’s big day, and he wouldn’t want his little guests to be sad.” “Brendan?” Dakota echoed the name of her (right now) boyfriend. While Dakota had been busy taking in the strange sights and sounds (not to mention smells…she couldn’t have been the only one who was wet, and all the baby powder in the world couldn’t completely mask that scent), Brendan had waddled off with the other boys and was clumsily throwing around a big rubber ball, clapping like an imbecile with each toss and catch, regardless of success. She’d been completely forgotten. Her? Forgotten? Impossible! Another nudge from Mrs. Jay and Dakota instinctively dug her bare heels into the floor. “I…I…can’t.” Dakota stuttered. “I…I…” she trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to say “peed.” “I’m…I’m…” The word “wet” wasn’t going to work either. “My…my…di…” So close. Hands open she motioned to the padded bulk around her tight ass. “Your diaper?” The word was like a gunshot to Dakota. Something about hearing it said out loud made this insane nightmare seem all the more real to her. The older woman’s hand reached between the young woman’s legs and gave a gentle squeeze. A scream caught in Dakota’s throat. She wasn’t used to being touched there (not unless it was her idea, and always behind closed doors), but some nagging, scared little voice inside her told her to be quiet. Dakota’s lungs shook with rage as a woman old enough to be her mother pulled back the waistband of her diaper and allowed herself a quick peek at Dakota’s ass. “You’re just a little wet, honey. You’re good for now.” Brendan’s mother closed the guest room door behind them and gave Dakota a playful swat on her bulkily padded behind. “Go on and play.” Slowly, the young woman walked forward towards the assembled mass of adults dressed like children, the crinkle in her diaper sounding like a thousand garbage bags rustling around her bottom. Logically, she realized, she was the only one who could actively hear the noise; like chewing; but illogically she felt the whole room hearing it over the seventh chorus of Old Mac Donald. Through gritted teeth, Dakota whispered to herself. “You can do this. You can do this. It’s just like in middle school when you had your first couple of periods. It’s just like wearing a pad.” Crinkle…crinkle..squish. “Just like a pad.” A pad that was also underwear and decorated with cutesy little kiddie designs. Underwear that wasn’t actually UNDER anything. Underwear that had a load of her pee in it, and she had just been groped by her (right now) boyfriend’s mom out in the open where everyone could see. No one had ever “checked” her to see if her pad needed cha- WOMP! A rubber ball smacking against her skull broke Dakota’s train of thought. The ball was bulky enough that had it been on the ground, it could have doubled for one of those hippie hipster chair substitutes. It didn’t hurt as much as knock her off balance. She stumbled a few feet before losing balance and falling over, the squish of her wet diaper breaking her tumble. A hand reached up and pulled her to her feet. “You okay? Any owies?” “Owies?” Dakota shook her head to clear the cobwebs out. “Uh…no. I’m not hurt.” She looked into her boyfriend’s concerned face. “Brendan?” “Yeah?” “What’s going on here?” “We’re playin’ catch.” Then he added, “You’re not so good at it, huh? It’s okay. You’re just a girl.” Just a girl? Just a girl?! What kind of grade-school sexism was that?! What next, that she had cooties? Dakota managed to say “I was blindsided!” in defense just before another ball in her back sent her stumbling. The diapered boy she dated didn’t so much catch her as he gently pushed her back up to her feet, his hands getting a good feel of her breasts in the process. (What had happened to her bra?) Brendan, who would normally be blushing beet red and apologizing profusely for what had just happened, couldn’t be bothered to blink. Dakota, likewise, was too stunned to feel much as far as sexual tension or embarrassment. She spun around and looked at the creep who had just lobbed the giant globule at her head. He was a full head taller than Dakota, and wore a loose-fitting button up romper that stopped at his knees; a kind of formal shirt and shorts all in one. “What’s the big idea?” she demanded. A stuck out tongue was his only reply. “Quit it, Jean!” Brendan yelled at the man baby. “That’s not playin’ nice!” “Do you wanna get cooties?” Jean replied. “Cuz that’s how you get cooties!” The ball had rolled back to him and he picked it up once more, clearly readying a third volley of attack. Chivalrously, Brendan stepped in front of his girlfriend, the waddle in his step making him look none the less her knight in shining armor. “I’m twenty-two now, I don’t believe in cooties.” He said it with all the seriousness and know-it-all imperiousness of the kid spoiling Santa Claus for everyone else. “Pppphhhb,” Jean’s retort was nothing short of a full on raspberry; tongue out and flapping in the air. Then with a know-it-all smirk, he said “The girls are only here cuz your mommy made you invite them.” Dakota saw the hair on the back of Brendan’s neck bristle. “That’s not true!” “Oooooooo!” Jean exclaimed. “Brendan likes girls! Brendan likes girls!” “DO NOT!” Brendan shouted. “Do not do not do not!” He turned to the side, and Dakota got a look at his face. He was biting his lip, and his face blushing a deep red. She’d seen Brendan that embarrassed before, but it was usually when she had him flustered and begging for more, like the nights they experimented with leather or cross dressing. What was he embarrassed of? Things got quiet on the boy’s side of the room; Old Mac Donald had faded out and been replaced with Bingo. Dakota’s boy toy looked to her, then to his friend, then back to her. He was embarrassed of her. She was the reason he was blushing so much. Just by being there, she was causing him distress and humiliation in front of his peers. The douche bag that was acting like a two-year-old took up a call as old as childhood itself. “Brendan and Dakota, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Others picked up the chant. ‘FIRST COMES LOVE! THEN COMES MARRIAGE…THEN COMES BRENDAN WITH THE BABY CARRIAGE!” Quickly, Brendan turned all the way around to face his girlfriend. “Maybe you should just go and play with the other girls. They’re doing tea party and other girly stuff that girls like.” The other boys got quiet and were all nodding in approval with hushed “Yeahs” echoing the sentiment. Taken aback, the young woman in pigtails asked her beau, “Are…are you dumping me?” Brendan frowned as if Dakota had suddenly switched to a foreign language. “Huh?” he said. “Dumping? Whaddya mean? I got some dump trucks outside if you wanna play with them, I guess. I’m playing catch with my friends right now. Just get out of here.” A few of the boys clapped. Dakota was shaking with anger. She’d never been dumped before. No one dumped her. She dumped them! Not ten minutes ago, he’d been proposing marriage to her. Five minutes ago, he was ready to bone her in the guest room while all his friends, neighbors and relatives, waited and listened outside. Now, he couldn’t be bothered with her, his friends’ mocking opinions of her driving his decisions. The most disturbing thing to her, however, more than suddenly being in pigtails and diapers, was the source of the rejection. Dakota was a girl. She had cooties. What was up with that? Had she been called a bitch, or a cunt, or a slut, she could have coped, or come up with a snappy comeback. But just for being a girl, she was suddenly being driven out from Brendan’s inner circle (that was playing catch…poorly). She had cooties. Dakota couldn’t get over that: That base-level, self-assured grade school brand of bullshit was literally too simple to debunk. How did you lose a battle of wits when your opponent was unarmed? When they were too dumb to feel pain, that’s how. Confused, hurt, and numb to the strange new world that had flooded her very reality, Dakota did the only thing that had even a hint of meaning to her. “Screw you, Brendan Jay,” she shrieked. “Take your stupid ring back!” With full force and intent, she slid the Ring-Pop off of her finger and hurled it towards the ground. The candy jewel shattered on the ground into a dozen tiny pieces, scattered by the impact. Brendan looked like a curse had been cast upon him. “MOMMY!” he cried, running off to the back of the house. The entire room stopped for a heartbeat. “Oooooooooo!” The shocked and accusatory cry rose from the throats of every diapered party goer, staring at her. The grown-ups (No, not grown-ups!)- adults (other adults)- had been either too busy managing other twenty something’s acting like juvenile idiots to see the entire scene unfold, or watched on with funny smiles, as if Dakota’s actions and feelings were cute. They wore nostalgic “remember when” smiles on their faces. Dakota huffed, and went over to the other side of the large living room where scattered tables, plastic tea pots, and dolls dominated the landscape. This time, the room was quiet enough, that Dakota was sure they COULD hear the crinkle in her diaper…if not for their own crinkles. The former sex-kitten plopped down in a thick plastic chair, feeling as much as hearing the wet padding squelch beneath her bottom. “Fuck my life,” she cried into her hands, muffling the curse. This was wrong on so many levels. Dressed like a two-year old, soaking in her own piss, at a child-style birthday party AND she’d been dumped for the first time in her life. God was punishing her. That was what was happening. She should have accepted the marriage proposal, stopped stringing the poor boy along, taken his love, and settled for being a gorgeous stay-at-home mom who only went on lavish spending sprees a few times a year. She’d been a brat and was being punished for it in the most literal way imaginable. Or maybe the devil was teaching her a lesson. Her rebuff of Brendan’s advances had been strictly kid stuff. She should have said yes, allowed the party to kick into overdrive, and then leave Brendan sometime before the wedding. Either way, all of this topsy-turvy bullshit was both her fault and meant specifically to torment her. Rationally, Dakota doubted it was as simple as some celestial or demonic being punishing her. She’d done this kind of thing at least twice before (though third time is, of course, the charm). There was likely a much more complicated answer that was grounded somewhere in the reality that she’d been living in before her panties had become disposable. She was no Alice in Wonderland, though. One didn’t ask asylum inmates why everyone was acting so crazy. Dakota knew she wouldn’t have liked the answers, and they wouldn’t have helped. The hollow clinky rattling of plastic on wood made Dakota look up from the safe darkness of her fingers and palms. A dainty, light pink plastic tea cup and matching saucer laid in front of her on the table. Beside her, a girl about Dakota’s age stood holding a plastic tea pot and a cheap French maid’s hat. “Tea?” she asked. “Sure…” Dakota replied, eyeing the pot. Must’ve been iced tea, hence the lack of steam. The girl tilted the teapot over Dakota’s cup as Dakota watched, waiting for tea, water, Kool-Aid, vodka (please let it be vodka) SOMETHING to pour out. Nothing came, but the girl tilted the pot up and stood back. “There you go,” she said. “Careful, it’s hot.” Playing pretend. Of course. What else had she expected? With one backhanded sweep, Dakota brushed the little tea cup and saucer off the table, sending them clattering to the floor. “Ooopsie!” the girl playing maid (Dakota had never bothered to learn the names of any of Brendan’s little friends) said. She went down to her knees, and began mock scrubbing at the floor. “Darn spills. Tea never washes out. Never, never, never!” Dakota sniffed disdainfully, and immediately regretted the decision to do so. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as something far more pungent than simple urine rammed itself up her nostrils. She took a hard look at the girl with the little maid hat pretending to scrub nonexistent tea stains. If the smell had been a signal, the lump in the diaper- evident even through the dark green party dress and white tights- had been a bonfire. “No way,” Dakota whispered to herself. “Gross.” Even vodka likely wouldn’t have gotten the horrible taste out of the young woman’s mouth. Another woman in her late twenties, this one dressed like an adult, walked over and sniffed the air tentatively. She was Brendan’s older cousin, if Dakota remembered the bevy of introductions made earlier that afternoon. She looked to Dakota as if she were a suspect (as if!), and Dakota felt herself shrivel up inside from panic. Soon enough, the lady regarded the girl on the floor- five years her junior, if that- and leaned over to examine the lump in the back of other girl’s plastic-backed panties. Dakota watched in morbid fascination as the woman gently patted the younger one’s behind, then bent over and pulled back the diaper to take a look inside. If the girl playing maid minded, or even noticed the other woman violating her personal space and privacy, she gave no signal. “Leslie,” the woman checking the big baby’s (because what else could you call her?) diaper, “let’s go get changed. Okay?” The diapered girl looked up from the floor, a pout forming at her lips. “I’m not Leslie,” she whined. “I’m Matilda the Maid.” She shifted from all fours, to sitting on the floor (smushing the feces in her panties around…disgusting!) and crossed her arms. The more grown-up of the two rolled her eyes good naturedly and said, “Okay…Matilda the Maid. Do you want to come with me and get changed?” The girl sitting in her own shit seemed to consider it. “It’s easier to clean if your diaper is clean,” the other woman added. “Okay,” the girl (Leslie or Matilda or whatever) agreed. Brendan’s cousin (right?...right) helped her to her feet and walked hand in hand with her to the back of the house where most of the bedrooms were located. A middle-aged man sitting along the edge passed a too-big-to-be-real diaper and a pack of wipes to the young lady in charge, and she received them without even breaking her stride. As she passed Dakota, she thought the older girl had giggled and whispered something under her breath. The hell did “Forbies” mean? A hand landed on Dakota’s shoulder. Slowly, she turned and looked up. “I saw what happened with Brendan,” this new intruder into Dakota’s crumbling sanity said. She had long black hair in braids with a blue dress that was appropriately reminiscent of the main character in a certain Lewis Carroll book. The outfit really did look cute on her, flirty even. It might have been sexy if not for the obvious bulge that everyone close to Dakota’s age had. “That’s’ a shame.” “Yeah,” Dakota sulked. “It sucks.” “Nice boy, too.” The girl in the Alice dress added. “One of the few ones that’s not a total dumb-head.” “Yeah,” Dakota agreed. “You’re real pretty, too.” “Thanks.” Dakota smiled genuinely. “It’s a shame you don’t LOOK pretty.” Dakota’s smile instantly became shark like, her teeth daggers. “I have a feeling you don’t know what words mean. You wanna try that again, sweetie?” She didn’t move, didn’t stir; was statue still. For the first time since she pulled down Brendan’s pants to find a layer of thick padding with balloon decorations where his boxers should have been, Dakota felt in her element. She could play these catty little games. The new girl seemed to sense this and began to backpedal. Grabbing her braids nervously, she clarified. “No, no, no. You ARE pretty,” she said. Each word started tumbling over the next. “It’s just that you’re not exactly dressed up for this kind of party. Your Mommy and Daddy didn’t even dress you up in something to cover your diaper. If this was a slumber party or a play date, you’d be fine, by the way. So you’re very pretty,” she paused and took a breath. “You just don’t look your best.” Experienced at this kind of repartee Dakota didn’t soften. She ignored the part about her mommy and daddy dressing her and analyzed the core of the statement: She was pretty but looked like a train wreck right now. “Some of us have a beauty that transcends clothing,” she said in an oversweet, insincere tone that even someone dressed like a toddler could understand (bitch). “Oh totally,” the new girl agreed. Sensing Dakota’s superiority, she was clearly rolling over and showing her throat. “Like a flower...or a cute teddy...or puppies.” Okay...maybe she didn’t QUITE understand. Still, Dakota’s presence transcended whatever crazy had just enveloped her world. Alice finished with a whimpering, almost mewling “Just a shame he didn’t want to play with you.” “Whatever,” Dakota shrugged. “He’s probably gay, now, or something.” “Probably.” The new girl wrapped one of her braided pig tails around her fingers before adding, “Gay? What’s gay?” The queen bee stifled a groan. Of course she didn’t know what “gay” was. “Gay means he likes boys instead of girls.” “Oh.” The girl in the baby blue dress said. “All boys are gay, then.” Dakota heard herself bark out a bitter laugh at that. Truer words were never spoken. Wisdom from the mouth of adult babes. “Yeah, they are.” The new girl latched onto this self-evident truth like a leech. “It’s like, when you’re alone with them on a play date they can be nice, but as soon as other boys come around, they don’t wanna play with you no more, but then they’re okay with laying down next to you during nap time, but when it’s play time they don’t remember nothin’ and are like I was just sleepin’ with you, and they don’t want to play house no more.” The new girl stopped herself from rambling further. “I’m Alice.” “Seriously?” “Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “The dress is not a coincidence. My Mommy and Daddy think it’s cute. They dress me up in it every excuse they get. It is a nice dress though.” “It is,” Dakota allowed. “It works… for you.” “Still, it makes me feel like I’m some little kid, or something. I hate being treated like I’m too little. You know what I mean?” “You. Have. No. Idea.” Alice looked at her immediate surroundings; at the boys who had now gotten to a raucous game of duck-duck-goose, at the girls still playing tea party, and more importantly, at the grown-ups who were monitoring them all. “Wanna do something grown-up?” she whispered conspiratorially “Drink?” “Nuh-uh.” Alice’s braids jangled as she shook her head. “Not thirsty.” It took everything in the former mean girl’s will power not to slap her own forehead. “Smoke?” “Ewww…gross.” “Then what?” Alice’s hands snaked down into the little white front apron of her Alice in Wonderland outfit. From the pocket, she took out a tube of lipstick in one hand and a mascara wand in the other. “Got ’em from my Mommy’s purse. Wanna play with them?” Logically, Dakota knew she shouldn’t. This wasn’t out of any desire to be “good”, but out of practicality. What difference would it make? She’d just be a giant baby with makeup on. Then again… she looked like a baby now, and everyone was treating her as such. Maybe, just maybe, if she looked more like an adult, things would reverse course. This was no time for logic; this was a time for sophistry. When in Wonderland, eat the mushrooms. She even had her very own Alice to guide her. “Oh hell yes.” Dakota said. “What?” “Yes.” Dakota explained. “I said yes. C’mon. Bathroom. Now!” Kelsey Kelsey had to poop. It wasn’t extremely urgent…yet, but the need was growing. Seeing her RA squat and poop her pants right in the middle of everything must have done something to her. It was similar to the sensation one had on long car trips after seeing the sign for a rest stop. It was easy enough to ignore the need to go until the opportunity presented itself. Kelsey hadn’t had to go… until she did, and now it was at the forefront of her mind and in no danger of going away. She had to find a toilet soon, or end up using the one in her shortalls. The college senior walked away from the adult sized playground that so many others were enjoying and back the way she came; the entrance to her dorm was there. Kelsey hadn’t made it thirty feet before a pair of people wearing college colors approached her. They weren’t much older than her- they could have been working on doctorates or masters degrees- but seemed infinitely more “adult” in their dress and demeanor. Come to think of it, all of the people that were supervising seemed to be around that age. They had all been wearing University t-shirts, too. “Wrong way, honey,” a young woman with short blonde hair told Kelsey, pointing to the swing sets and slides that had been erected. “Playtime is that way. Over there.” “I need to get back to my dorm.” Kelsey explained. This elicited a few giggles from the pair blocking her. “Honey, you don’t have a dorm,” the male said, his hair thinning already. “Only college students get to have sleepovers here, not forever babies.” There was that phrase again. First, Megan, now these two jokers. What was a forever baby? A gurgle in her gut told Kelsey that that question would have to wait. She didn’t have time for this. Quickly, the girl dug through the bib pocket in her shortalls. Right where she left it, the tiny plastic rectangle with her picture was a welcome sight. “My combination keycard and student ID says otherwise.” Without examining it, Kelsey handed her card over to the couple holding her up. They examined it, carefully, passing it to and from each other, as if they were TSA agents and Kelsey, in all her five foot nothing glory was a suspected terrorist about to board a plane “Well…Kelsey…this is definitely a student ID of sorts.” The lady said, her words slow and carefully chosen. “It’s just not for this school.” “What?” Kelsey snatched her ID. “What are you talking…?” Kelsey stopped herself short. The guard was right. This was a school ID, just for the wrong school. Kelsey’s sunny, brightly smiling face was still on the card, but the color scheme had changed to a light pink and baby blue mix instead of the college’s bright and vibrant colors. Gone was the mascot in the lower righthand corner; in its place stood a teddy bear with a heart on its tummy. Her name and the name of whatever school this was for was written in a strange font. She recognized the writing as English, but her eyes couldn’t adjust to it enough to make out the words. “Any other questions?” the male asked. “Do you need help, honey?” Yes, and yes on both counts, but Kelsey had the sinking feeling that these two wouldn’t be willing or able to provide it. “Nope, I’m good.” Kelsey turned around and started walking towards the crowd of ridiculously dressed college kids. “Just go play until your Mommy and Daddy come to pick you up,” the woman called out after her. Kelsey didn’t look back, instead raising her fist into the air to signal a thumbs up. Just then, a cramp rushed through her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks, almost doubling over. “You okay?” they called after her. The pain subsided, and Kelsey righted herself. Again, she signaled with a thumbs up. First thing first, find a toilet. Then try to suss out the rest of this bucket of crazy that had just been dumped into her lap. The girl waddle-walked back into the crowd, talking to herself. “Gotta find a toilet. Gotta find a toilet,” she kept repeating it as if it were some kind of mantra.” Weren’t there public toilets around here or something? Unfortunately, between the bouncy house, swing set, and various other upscaled playground equipment, as well as all of the babied-up college kids milling and crowding around, impatiently waiting for their turn, a clear line of sight was a logistical impossibility. Distracting her, however briefly, was the blaring music from gigantic speakers that echoed over the entirety of the college courtyard-turned-playground. Intermingled with all of the ridiculously dressed early-twenty-somethings were what Kelsey thought of as University employees and older students working on their doctorates and MAs; they fit the stereotypical age range, anyways. They were all smiling, waving, and pointing the immature looking college students in the direction of this attraction or that. A few had cooler bags filled with juice boxes, which they handed out freely. Others, Kelsey saw, passed out little boxes of animal crackers. Still more lagged behind, picking up dropped garbage and putting them into black garbage bags. Great; everything needed to induce bathroom usage, but no visible bathrooms. A dull ache from inside her hastened her search. Clutching her stomach slightly, Kelsey’s direction sense, memory, and an inkling of common sense finally helped her orient herself. She’d been too busy trying to spot a bathroom past the push merry-go-round and the ball pit, but any kind of party would keep the good stuff far away from the toilets. At the same time, you always wanted people to know where to go take a dump. Standing on tip toes and craning her neck, Kelsey searched the periphery and saw what she thought she’d been looking for: A plain colored concrete building with a tented roof- a door with opposite ends facing the playground. Bingo! Around it a thin crowd of ridiculously dressed twenty-somethings lingered, as if waiting for a turn. Kelsey vaguely remembered passing by the public restroom a number of times, the building being an unessential convenience and piece of background furniture in her years living in the dorms. All similarities to a public restroom, at a big function or otherwise, ended there. In front of the building was a large banner on two tent poles. There were no words on the banner, but instead Kelsey recognized the near universal symbol for a baby changing station. A non-descript, sexless figure with splayed out arms and bowed out legs, with a solid white colored crotch indicating a diaper. It was the outline of an infant laying prone; but something was different; something was wrong. The outline’s legs were too long, or the arms were too short; the proportions were still humanoid, but not to scale with an actual baby’s. On either side of the bathroom, instead of a line of porta-potties as might be expected for the big crowd, two large white tents had been set up on either side, with diapered people trickling in an out of them in little spurts. None of the people dressed like…dressed like her were walking into the bathrooms or tents alone. All of them were escorted in and out as if they couldn’t or wouldn’t do it themselves. Kelsey watched as young woman in her early twenties, wearing a bright yellow romper with bows in her hair, waddled out escorted by another woman who was thirty, tops. The older of the two wore a teal pair of scrubs, like a nurse or a doctor, gave the other girl a playful pat on her ass and the girl toddled out of the area and made a bee-line for a giant table that was being perpetually sprayed down with shaving cream. The more adult woman waved goodbye (even though the other girl wasn’t even looking back) and then strolled up to another group of adults dressed like toddlers. Kelsey watched, mouth agape, as a boy in a t-shirt and shorts- the most adult ensemble she’d seen someone her own age wearing, despite the obvious diaper peeking out- got his padded crotch groped. Guy didn’t even flinch. No one did. No one seemed to mind it either when the lady walked around him and pulled back his underwear to have a look for herself. The slightly older (but infinitely more adult) woman nodded and took the boy by the hand, leading him into the tent. Kelsey didn’t need to guess what was going to happen. She watched for another minute, and saw as Megan, her R.A. who had taken a dump right in front of Kelsey, was being dragged by her forearm towards the changing area. Her feet walked, however slowly, with the person in the university shirt towards the bathrooms and white tent; the other girl’s eyes were searching outward, her free hand grasping towards the giant playground. She didn’t look like someone being tortured or humiliated, Kelsey decided, but like a two-year-old who didn’t want to stop playing to get her ass wiped. And from everything that Kelsey had seen today, that’s effectively what was happening. Mesmerized by the absurd horror show unfolding before her eyes, Kelsey looked on for several more minutes, ignoring the growing pain in her gut. Again and again, a kind of melodrama transformation was taking place. Some went in quietly like good little girls and boys, others were overgrown little pills and fussed the whole way in, digging their heels in (for all the good it did them). One or two even had to be carried in. But no matter what, they all walked out smiling, giggling and happy, with their attendant giving them a little pat on the rear and sending them away to play again. They were…“Adult babies.” The words tasted of bitter ash in Kelsey’s mouth, the inherent contradiction causing enough cognitive dissonance to make her feel the slightest bit dizzy. Maybe these people were getting more than just their butts wiped inside. The college senior dismissed the idiotic thought as soon as she had formed it. There had to be a logical explanation for this, even if she hadn’t found it yet. One thing was for certain: she did not want to go in there. This wasn’t working! Kelsey screamed at herself internally as her sense of urgency increased. Kink, convention, social experiment, or whatever this was, Kelsey could figure out all of that later. What she needed to figure out RIGHT NOW was how to not poop her pampers…her pants…how to not poop her pants. “’Scuse me!” she called out to a passing boy with nothing covering his diaper “Can you tell me-?“ He was gone into the crowd before she finished. “Hey?” she called out to a girl who didn’t even have a shirt on. Again, she was ignored. “Excuse m-?” A gentle poke made the short senior turn around. A blonde girl, only about three inches taller than Kelsey, looked her in the eye. “You okay?” she asked. Her expression, a frown of genuine concern and empathy, was offset by her outfit. Kelsey looked past the purple feetie pajamas, the dragon hoodie down, and saw the sincerity in the azure blue eyes. “Not really,” Kelsey grunted, feeling the moment of no return was fast approaching. “You need help?” the other girl’s face gaining its own urgency as Kelsey’s registered. Kelsey nodded her affirmation. “Okay. What?” Kelsey slammed her eyes shut as a cramp rolled over her. “Gotta… find… a bathroom,” she gasped. “Now!” There was a small pause as the blonde girl seemed to puzzle over Kelsey’s predicament. Finally, she said “Okay! Follow me! I know where you can find a bathroom. My house is nearby. Let’s go!” The blonde girl held out her hand and Kelsey took it without hesitation. They broke off at a trot, the blonde girl leading the way through the sea of people like a veteran crowd sailor. The collective cacophony of screeches, giggles, and shouts mixed in with the occasional juvenile whining sob became so much white noise. It would be easy to get lost in this crowd; to drown. All the while, Kelsey’s new companion had an air of laser focus and casualness about her, as if she were completely in her element. Her guide looked back over her shoulder. “Is this your first time at one of these things?” she asked. Biting her lip, Kelsey nodded. “Figured,” the pajama clad blonde said, still dragging Kelsey through the crowd. “No biggie. Everybody has a first time.” It obviously wasn’t her new friend’s first time at one of these things, that much was for certain. While Kelsey had to keep correcting her pace and movement, her walking made no easier by the diaper between her legs or the jostling crowd she was weaving through, this strange Sherpa of sorts was walking and talking as if she’d been in padded underwear her entire life and was a veteran concert goer on top of that. “My house is just up ahead,” the other girl assured Kelsey. They had only moved about the length of a football field, if that, to the other end of the courtyard, but Kelsey didn’t care if by “house” the other girl meant “dorm room.” Kelsey didn’t even care if “house” was code for “janitor’s closet.” Her mind was already fixated on her own personal endgame. First, she’d run to a toilet, relieve herself of this burden, diaper included, and then figure out a way to straighten things out with the people who seemed to think she was some kind of mental invalid. Fuck it, if she could just find a little privacy she’d unbutton the crotch snaps on her newly altered shortalls, rip the diaper off, take a dump on the floor, use the diaper to wipe her ass, and then be on her merry way, as long as she didn’t soil herself. Kelsey’s legs came to a stop as her guide stopped jerking her around like a rag doll. The two of them had arrived. “We’re hooooome!” the girl sang. The pride in her voice was of equal measure with the surge of disappointment in Kelsey’s soul. Off-white plastic walls greeted them. Windows, lacking glass, that were big enough to fall through stared out at them. A smooth, hard green plastic roof that was short enough that even Kelsey could have climbed atop with minimal assistance rose above them. An orange plastic door with grooves cut down into it to seem a crude facsimile of wood awaited them. It was a play house; the kind that you might see in the backyard of any middle class two-year-old. It was a large playhouse, granted, scaled up so that adults could enter it, but it was a playhouse all the same. As if to accentuate the discovery, Kelsey’s eyes darted to the right, taking in a turtle shaped sandbox the width of a jumbo hot-tub; the inhabitants doing their level best to create and destroy little castles using special buckets and plastic shovels. No way that thing had indoor plumbing. “Come on.” the strange girl who’d led Kelsey this far said. “Let’s go play house.” Kelsey’s rage was about to boil over. She was an instant away from screaming at this crazy woman at the top of her lungs. This was some cruel joke, whether that had been the intent or not. But when she opened her mouth to scream at the other girl, an uncontrolled sigh of relief came instead. Kelsey Keaton had never spent much time on what it might be like to poop her pants. She had assumed that it would be explosive with everything that she’d been trying to hold in rocketing out her backside at once. Or maybe it would be a long, drawn out affair, with her solid waste clawing its way out of her, as she, red-faced, struggled to hold it all in until her body finally overrode her pride and with a final sobbing grunt, she was forced to push the mess into the back of her pants. It wasn’t like that all, though. The very instant she’d stopped focusing on the toilet-that-wasn’t and started bemoaning her bad fortune, her insides relaxed and with a kind of long dormant muscle memory reactivated. The mess was already half way out of her by the time she had opened her mouth, and when she had next inhaled, the entirety of it had exited its way into her diaper, ballooning it out ever so slightly before the mass it collapsed in on itself and spread along her cheeks. She had just shit herself. All it took was one brief pause, a little push- barely noticeable- and it all came flowing out. It was as easy as if she’d been doing it her whole life. She was a natural. She was a pro. Kelsey Keaton pooped her pampers like a pro. While her body was certainly comfortable with this new development, Kelsey’s mind was anything but. Her own scream was cut short by her throat tightening. A shiver of revulsion passed through her, as her stomach rolled, the signals from Kelsey’s brain all but begging her to vomit. Her cheeks clenched in revulsion, which only spread the mess further. “Hey, new kid,” the girl in the purple dragon jammies looked back at her. “You comin’?” The college senior stood there, knees locked in panic. She was shaking so hard that the buckles on her shortalls were rattling a bit. “I…I…I…” Kelsey stuttered. “I…” she mouthed the word “pooped.” Saying it out loud, even mouthing it made the squishy mess in what used to be her panties all the more real. “Oh,” the other girl, said. “So…you comin’?” Kelsey’s knees locked in place. “I pooped…” Kelsey repeated the words. “I just went… in my pants.” “Uhhhh-huh.” The blonde girl agreed, clearly not seeing the point of Kelsey’s distress. “So?” So? So?! How could Kelsey explain the level of personal shame she was feeling when everyone surrounding her seemed incapable of such a feat? It was like nailing a piece of Jell-O to a cat: No matter what, the damn thing wasn’t going to stay still. “Is that why you were over near the changin’ place?” Dragon Jammies asked. “Were you waiting for a grown up to take you there? I think you’re allowed to go yourself if you want, though I don’t know why anybody would…less they were leakin’ or somethin’.” Kelsey shook her head dumbly. “Yeah,” the blonde girl stuck out her tongue. “I don’t like stopping playtime either.” Then a light came on in the girl’s eyes. “Oooooh! I think I know what happened.” “You do?” The other girl nodded confidently. “Yeah,” she said. “Let me guess: You just got changed, probably just a wet diaper or somethin’ but some grown-up thought you were too wet. How am I doin’ so far?” Kelsey stared blankly at the other girl, too blown away by the inaccuracy to correct her. “Aaaand,” the other girl prattled on, “you don’t wanna stop playing again just so some grown-up can be like, ‘But I just changed you!?’” She did this last part in a deep chesty bass with her arms crossed. “I hate it when that happens,” she finished in her regular voice. “It’s not your fault they changed you too early. Grown-ups…go figure.” Kelsey couldn’t figure. She had no idea what the other girl was talking about. Not even three minutes prior, she could never even imagine soiling herself, and this stranger was acting like it was the most normal and mundane thing in the world. From her tone, this girl might as well have been talking about periods, or having a bad hair day, or some bad chick flick, or whatever normal girls talked about. Only instead of talking about normal things, she was talking about wanting to play house, and how inconvenient diaper changes could be. All her life, Kelsey had had a hard time relating to people her own age and making significant friendships. She was always a little too juvenile in her appearance and tastes for most people to interact with beyond a surface level. Daisy Duck T-shirts and shortalls were not what you wore to go dancing, bar hopping, or crash a frat party. Classmates didn’t watch Sesame Street for fun. Just now, though, she felt damn near grown up compared to the ones running around in sagging diapers and colorful onesies. Even with a load in her pants, she seemed like the biggest kid in the playground. She at least was mature enough to know that it was wrong and to be avoided. Now she was the one that didn’t want to talk about childish things like calling adults “grown-ups,” and had trouble relating to problems like interrupted playtime to go have her ass wiped for her. The pendulum had somehow swung in the other direction. “Are you comin?’” Dragon Jammies called for Kelsey. Kelsey found her voice, if only barely. “I gotta find a bathroom.” “We can pretend shower in there,” the blonde girl pointed towards the playhouse. Kelsey let out an exasperated sigh out through her mouth before breathing in through her nose. That was a mistake. The pungent smell of her own fertilizer was…was…okay, not that bad, (everyone likes their own brand), but the multi-stimulus reminder wasn’t doing the college senior any favors. “I was trying to find a toilet,” she explained. The weirdo who’d dragged her to this waste of time cocked her head. “Toilet?” Kelsey rolled her eyes. Of course. “Potty…?” she offered. Though come to think of it, a shower was more in order. “Oooooh!” the blonde girl bobbed her head in understanding. “Potty.” The word sounded weird coming from the big toddler- unnatural- like she was saying a foreign word without being fluent in the language. This was going nowhere fast. Kelsey sighed again. “I’m outta here.” She turned around, her face cringing as the weight in her diaper moved with her, the mess just loose enough so that she could feel it whiplash behind her as she spun. “Whoah!” Dragon Jammies ran around to block Kelsey; she was surprisingly fast. “I thought you wanted to play house.” Kelsey found her temperature rising again. Crazy girl just wouldn’t let it go. Kelsey wondered: Is this what she did to people when she became fixated on the works of Dr. Seuss? “I’m going back to the public toilets.” “Why? You gonna go get changed?” “No,” Kelsey spoke very slowly and deliberately. “I’m going to have them to take me to the potty. Then she corrected herself. ”I mean toilet.” “Why would they take you potty?” The slightly taller girl asked. “I’m potty trained.” Those were words that Kelsey hadn’t had to utter since she was at least three years old. The other girl just giggled. “No you’re not. You pooped. They’ll just change you.” Kelsey opened her mouth to counter that argument and found that she couldn’t. Everybody around her had gone insane. Everyone on campus was either acting like big babies or treating people like big babies. The men and women being escorted in and out of the bathrooms between the tents seemed no different than any of the others. Likely, all the available space was being used for the changing of adult sized diapers. Also, Kelsey had already defiled herself. No way a bunch of crazies would believe she was an adult if she had her ass wrapped in a used diaper. They would change her diaper, give her a pat on her bum and send her on her way, just like everyone else. She was surrounded in a sea of strangers, too. Other than Megan, Kelsey hadn’t seen a familiar face. The idea of a complete stranger stripping her naked, wiping the muck off her backside and then re-diapering her was disgusting and mortifying beyond belief; the ultimate in violation of personal boundaries for the young woman. The psychology major had read cases of mass hallucinations and shared delusions, but never at this level, nor was this sort of thing so spontaneous. Maybe this was a fetish thing. She’d accidentally stumbled into an odd fetish party and everyone just assumed she was in on the joke, though that didn’t explain how the diaper had gotten wrapped around her bum in the first place. Even if she was right and this was just a case of mass method acting, Kelsey didn’t know the safe word, or whatever it was she would need to do to demonstrate that she no longer found the joke funny. Safe word, that was a thing, right? Right. “Well crud,” Kelsey whispered. Then she looked to the fellow inmate in the asylum. “Okay,” she told Dragon Jammies. “Let’s play house.” The blonde girl clapped her hands in a frenzy “Yaaaaaay!” she squealed before grabbing Kelsey by the wrist and made a mad dash towards the playhouse. “Mommy! I’m hoooome!” the girl called out, her voice rattling off the hollow plastic walls. “Mommy?” Kelsey echoed the greeting. Dragon Jammies needn’t have bothered shouting. The house was only one room, and even if it was big for a toddler, it was still little more than a plastic shack. Kelsey could very well have raised the roof in the right places if she’d thought to put her hands up. As for “Mommy”, if Kelsey was worried about some crazy older person thinking she was a two-year old, the opposite was true. “Mommy,” in this instance, was a dark-skinned girl with her hair pinned up in a little bun. Her Sophia the First t-shirt and light up sneakers almost complimented the sagging wet diaper practically hanging off her hips. Almost. “I’m not ‘Mommy,’” she said to the girl in purple pajamas, “Grown-Ups don’t call each other Mommy and Daddy. I’m ‘Darling,’ and you’re ‘Jim Dear.’ Just like in that movie.” The two waddled over to each other, hugged, and made awkward ‘Mwah’ noises as they kissed the air. “Lady and the Tramp?” Kelsey asked, recalling the faceless humans from the film. “That’s how grown ups act,” the girl in the wet diaper said as if she were a wise sage. “That’s how my Mommy and Daddy act anyways.” This new puzzle of a woman looked at Kelsey as if for the first time. “Oh my!” she said with a gasp that was too well enunciated to be sincere. “Where are my manners? I didn’t realize that Jim Dear brought home a guest.” The newest player in this bizarre melodrama, “Darling”, looked to the girl in the dragon jammies and said, “I thought you said you were going out and looking for a job. How are you supposed to provide for me? My mother said I never should have married you.” Completely unfazed, Dragon Jammies, now ‘Jim Dear,’ thumbed over to Kelsey’s direction. “I found us a baby to play house with us,” she said. “I think she’d be really good at playing house.” Baby? Wasn’t the shitty pampers clinging to her backside babyish enough? And who were they to talk about being a baby? The girl who’d dragged her here crinkled just as much as she did, and the other one was one good wetting away from leaking. Anybody could see that. Mommy/Darling jumped up and down, her wet diaper bobbing out sync with the rest of her. “A baby?! You got me a baby from the stork? Oh, Jim Dear!” She went and hugged the girl in the dragon jammies, and Kelsey shook her head in disbelief as the girls giggled and bounced in each other’s arms. The diapered Darling stopped. “Unless, this is a trick…” “A trick?” The other two diapered women echoed the third. “What if…” Darling paused. “What if you’re NOT Jim?” “I’m not,” Dragon Jammies replied. “We’re just pretendin’. ‘Member?” Ignoring her, Darling pressed on. “What if, you’re really Jim’s evil twin?! You’re really his evil twin, trying to de-sleeve me, and that baby is yours and not his!” With a snap of her elbow, the new girl pointed dramatically at Kelsey. “Oh, but she is mine! And this is the secret that will tear apart both me and Jim’s marriage! I knew I never should have taken that nap with you! Mother always said, don’t sleep with strangers. Stunned, Kelsey said, “You guys don’t mess around when you play house, do you?” She was so taken aback by the show unfolding in front of her that she almost forgot about the muck in her diaper. Almost. “My Mommy watches soap.” Darling told Kelsey, breaking character. “The T.V. kind, not the bath kind. This is how grown-ups talk to each other when kids aren’t around.” Kelsey snickered, despite herself. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way.” “No,” Darling assured her. “It does. I’mma expert on grown-ups.” Kelsey was about to counter that argument, when Dragon Jammies interrupted. “Buuuuut…if you’re gonna play the baby, you can’t talk like that, can you?” “Oh yeah,” Darling said, her face a mask of thoughtful consideration. “Good point. Doesn’t that mean we have to start calling each other Mommy and Daddy now?” “I think so,” Dragon Jammies nodded. “What should we do?” Darling asked. “I’m notta…” Kelsey began to protest. The girl in the purple footie pajamas interrupted her. “She wants to go potty.” “Potty training babies!” Darling shrieked with delight. “That’s great! Suuuuper grown-up!” Kelsey started to argue. “That’s not what I-“ The college senior wasn’t able to finish the sentence before the two other women were dragging her to a nearby chair. “Hey! Leggo!” “Baby’s gotta go potty!” The other two said in unison. Kelsey found herself spun around and pushed backward. The backs of her knees touched a hard plastic chair and buckled, sending her careening straight down onto the hard seat. The fall likely wouldn’t have hurt, regardless, but the extra cushioning made it a complete non-issue. It was the closest thing to sitting on a pillow. More traumatic than the fall, however, was the feeling of the mess in Kelsey’s shortalls spreading around, creeping and oozing up, down and out. What had been a fairly solid lump in the girl’s diaper was now an uneven paste. Kelsey’s lunch threatened to come up and greet the air. Taking nauseated silence for compliance, the other diapered girls looked to each other. “What now?” Darling asked. “I’ve never potty trained anybody before.” “I think we make her sit until she pees or poops.” Dragon Jammies said to her compatriot. Then with full seriousness, she looked Kelsey in the eye and asked. “Have you peed or pooped?” The world shimmered before her as Kelsey fought back tears of humiliation. Kelsey silently nodded, her vision a blur of water. The girl in the purple pajamas looked to the one in the wet diaper and instructed. “Now we gotta tell her what a good job she did and how she’s almost a big girl.” “So big.” “Usin’ the potty.” “I’m so proud of you!” “Such a big kid.” Sitting in a paste of her own making, Kelsey’s mouth went dry, her humiliation beginning to simmer into a boiling rage. “Hey,” Darling looked to Dragon Jammies. “How do you know so much about potty training.” “I paid attention when my Mommy and Daddy were potty training my little brother. He’s real smart. He drives a car now and everything.” Enough was enough. “I’M POTTY TRAINED!” She shouted, pushing the two other overgrown toddlers out of her way as she stood. Darling and Dragon Jammies stepped back. “Toldja I knew how to potty train a baby.” “I’M! NOT! A! BABY!” Kelsey proclaimed, her voice loud enough to cause the playhouse walls to rattle. “I’M NOT A BABY! GOT IT?” The other two girls looked at Kelsey like she was completely divorced from reality. “Well yeah,” Darling said, her sodden, swollen diaper swinging between her thighs like an old grandfather clock. “We’re just playin’ pretend, silly.” “Then why,” Kelsey asked, exasperated, “is everybody our age wearing diapers?!” “We’re forever babies,” the other two replied. “But I’m twenty-two!” “Yeah,” Darling agreed. “Forever babies.” Dragon Jammies added, “My brother calls us Forbies.” “What’s the difference?” Kelsey demanded. The other two frowned a bit, more in careful consideration than in disappointment. Then they began to bombard Kelsey with information: “Babies can get potty trained.” “Babies can get outta daycare.” “Babies get more mature.” “Babies stop being babies.” “Babies grow up.” The college senior stood there, baffled. The absolute illogic of that statement combined with the confidence that it was stated with reeked of schizophrenia, or the early stages of dementia- any number of mental illnesses that she’d read about and studied… yet something about it rang true. “Babies grow up,” she echoed the statement. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Sitting back down, now not even caring about her messy diaper, Kelsey repeated the words. “Babies grow up.” She deserved this, she knew. Her entire life until today had been about indulging in the juvenile; never fully letting go; never fully growing up. Now, as far as everyone was concerned, she hadn’t. Only it had gone too far. No one took her seriously, and she was expected to soil herself, surrender her agency to strangers, and be happy about it. This was some kind of divine punishment. Dragon Jammies squatted down and made eye contact with Kelsey. “Don’t tell me your Mommy and Daddy never gave you the talk, new kid.” She might have been using her diaper, too, but Kelsey was beyond caring at this point. Kelsey blinked away a tear. “The talk?” “Yeah,” Darling agreed. “The talk? About how everybody our age is too immature, so we’re never gonna have to grow up. That’s why we don’t hafta go to school or use the potty.” It should have sounded sad, but there wasn’t even a hint of regret in the other woman’s voice. If anything, she sounded cheery, or smug; the condescending tone of rich kid looking down on the poor unfortunate souls that would have to work one day instead of just inheriting their daddy’s money. Dragon Jammies added in her own two cents. “Or hafta drink from big kid cups, or tie our shoes, or learn to drive. Nothin’!” Darling chirped in, “How do they even drink like that without spilling juice everywhere?’ Dragon Jammies shrugged. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Kelsey fought against a sob. Dragon Jammies shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s how it is.” “But…but…but no!” Kelsey stood up, again. “That’s NOT how it is. That’s NEVER how it’s been. I’m an adult. Yeah, I like cartoons and toys and kids’ books, but I also was about to get a degree in psychology. I had it all planned out!” she explained, her breath starting to become ragged. “I was going to… graduate, then work part time at a social service agency while I worked on my Master’s….” Kelsey felt the sudden pangs of a filled bladder. The sensation was distracting her, but she had no intention of stopping talking. Fuck it. She was in a dirty diaper anyways. Half a thought later, she was letting loose a tiny stream into the thirsty padding between her legs. “Then I was gonna teach college courses while I worked on my doctorate for another four to seven years,” Kelsey said as the diaper did its job; the padding starting to swell by the time she had finished speaking. A silence filled the playhouse. The three diapered girls all stared at each other. Darling shook her head in total amazement. “You don’t mess around when you play school, do you?” “I’M NOT PLAYING!” Kelsey screamed. “IT WAS PROBABLY THE ONE THING I WASN’T PLAYING AT! I’M NOT PLAYING SCHOOL! I’M NOT PLAYING HOUSE! I’M DONE PLAYING!” All three stood there in silence, with the pounding of Kelsey’s heart drowning out the muted crinkle coming from her waist. Then, the last thing that Kelsey could have anticipated (though perhaps she should have) happened. Dragon Jammies and Darling, who had been perfectly happy stealing plots from soap operas while they played house, who had invited her to share in their playtime, who seemed as juvenile and as alien to her as she had likely seemed to others, started crying. It was ugly crying too: Full on wailing, snot bubbles forming, and no chance of a coherent word from either of them. Kelsey dried her tears held her hands up defensively and started to try to quietly shush the big babies…the “forever babies” or “forbies” or whatever they called themselves. She had lost her temper and yelled at them and now there was just more problems on top of problems. Her conscience flared up, telling her from inside her own confused mind that she had to make this right, somehow. “Wait…” Kelsey told herself. “What am I even doing?” This wasn’t her problem. Getting two crazy chicks to act less crazy was not her responsibility. Escaping was! As fast as her legs would propel her, the psych major ran, slamming open the orange plastic door on her way out; her diaper crinkling and squishing with every step. The wails of the two girls chased her out into the open air. The runaway girl looked behind her; the cacophony was so loud that the playhouse could be seen shaking from the outside. “Gotta-get-awa-oooof!” Her own thought was cut short as she ran right into another warm body. She stumbled backwards and tripped over her own legs; her puffy underwear breaking the fall. With the way her adrenaline was pumping, the humiliating state of her underwear didn’t even occur to her. “STUPID BA-!” she shouted up. Only it wasn’t a baby, nor was it anyone dressed as a baby. The guy was built like a brick house with a gray flattop and matching goatee. He had the frame of a professional weightlifter who’d only just lapsed into middle age. Like every other “grown-up” she had encountered, he wore a University T-shirt, this one a dignified polo with the logo on the breast. A big meaty mitt offered Kelsey a hand up. Without thinking, the girl reached up and took it. “Easy there, little girl. You’ve got to watch where you’re going or someone could get hurt.” He smiled down at her in a kindly, almost grandfatherly way. “Uh…thank you.” Kelsey said quietly. Shit. This likely wouldn’t end well. If the people guarding the entrance to the courtyard were any measure, this guy basically thought he was talking to a two-year-old. “Now what sort of hurry are you in, little lady?” Obviously, “my world has turned upside down in some sort of karmic irony kind of way and I’m trying to escape” was not an acceptable answer, so instead Kelsey said “Ball pit.” As if in punctuation, a fresh wave of Dragon Jammies’s and Darling’s wails echoed out of the playhouse. The former full-fledged adult held her breath. “What’s going on in there?” the older guy asked Kelsey. “Um…” Kelsey paused. “Maybe they’re hurt? Better go check on them.” Fingers crossed, if she got lucky, the giant next to her would leave her to check on the real “forever babies”. As things played out, Kelsey concluded that she should have crossed more fingers. Another playground attendant rushed into the plastic building and came out with two twenty-two-year-olds bawling their heads off. A big, suntanned hand took hers and the older man told her, “My friend has got this handled. Why don’t we wait for them to come over and we can sort this out?” Kelsey’s mouth became as dry as her diaper was wet. A woman in her early thirties with bleached blonde hair brought a crying Dragon Jammies and Darling over to Kelsey “I checked them out real quick, Jude,” the woman reported to the older man. “No cuts or bruises.” “Then why are they crying?” The older man, Jude, asked. He sounded like he was asking his co-worker, but he turned a suspicious eye on Kelsey. Kelsey shivered under his gaze, but kept silent. Still holding Kelsey’s hand, he turned his attention to the two fussing women and in a slow, soothing baritone asked. “What’s wrong, honey? Tell Ol’ Jude why you’re so sad so he can make it all better.” “NEW KID DOESN’T WANNA PLAY WITH US!” Dragon Jammies screamed. Her diaper threatening to fall off her, Darling added, “AFTER WE POTTY TRAINED HER AND EVERYTHING!” “Potty trained?” The bleached blonde attendant, whom Kelsey had internally dubbed “Judy”, stifled a laugh. “Forbies can’t be-“ The big man held up his hand to silence his co-worker. She took the hint. “Let me guess?” he said looking at the three babied girls. “House?” “Uh-huh,” Kelsey’s accusers replied in unison. The big gray man’s eyes came down on Kelsey and reluctantly, she nodded. The college student’s hand still engulfed in the giant’s palm, Jude turned to her and said, “Aaaaand let me guess. You didn’t want to be the baby? You probably get enough of that as it is. You wanted to be something different.” It was oversimplifying matters, greatly, but it was the closest thing to sense that Kelsey had heard. “Basically,” she admitted. The massive man stood up to his full height, towering above everyone else. “This is why we shouldn’t set up that play house for these kind of events,” he spoke to his co-worker. “Too many kids, and not enough supervision to handle good conflict resolution and teach proper social skills.” Kelsey instantly liked the guy. “Forever babies can’t handle that much unsupervised social interactions. They’re too immature.” And just like that, Kelsey couldn’t stand him. “Preaching to the choir, Jude,” the woman with the bleached blonde hair agreed. “Not to mention there’s a lot of blind spots in that playhouse. Something bad could happen in there besides some hurt feelings, and we might not know until it’s too late.” “Amen to that.” Jude nodded. “Now,” he looked at the three diapered girls. “How about we all say sorry and get back to playing nice?” The three college aged toddlers all looked at each other. From the sober and somber looks in their eyes, Dragon Jammies and Darling had reached the same conclusion that Kelsey had: apologize or they were going to be stuck here. “Sorry,” Kelsey mumbled. “Sorry,” the other two replied. No eye contact was made by any party. “Alright,” the big man said, a soft, satisfied smile crossing his lips. He looked directly at Dragon Jammies and told her, “Go play.” With all of the surprising speed and agility that she had demonstrated before (despite being diapered) the blonde girl took off and melted into the crowd milling around the push merry-go-round. Kelsey likewise made to move, only to find that her arm was still being firmly gripped “Not. So Fast.” Each word was a death sentence being handed down from on high. The short girl looked up at the man towering over her. “But I said I was sorry,” she pleaded. A derisive snort came from the big man holding her. “You’re not in trouble, baby girl. I just need to check something.” Kelsey didn’t even have time to ask when she was hoisted over the grandfatherly man’s gargantuan shoulder. She pushed up on his back, trying to orient herself, when she spied “Darling” being lead away by the female attendant. Based on the other girl’s sulking body language, soaking diaper, and the direction that she was being led, there was little doubt in Kelsey’s mind that she was heading for the changing area. Meanwhile, she herself was being groped. The old man’s giant hands patted and squished her padded rear, reminding her that she was in an even worse position than the house player. “Yup,” she heard the big guy pronounce, “thought so.” “Let me go!” Kelsey shouted. “Put me down!” “Sure thing, pumpkin, soon as we get you cleaned up.” Cleaned up! A diaper change! This middle-aged giant was touching her in her most private of areas with no concern for her modesty or feelings. Kelsey hadn’t even gotten around to going on a proper date yet and now a stranger was groping her and preparing to do worse after knowing her for less than five minutes. This was hell, or at least purgatory. That was it. She’d had an aneurism at the wishing fountain while trying to remember that ridiculous set of tongue twisters and was now in some bizarre kind of purgatory. Well Kelsey Keaton wasn’t about to go down that easy; not her. “NO!” she screamed, beating on the old lug’s back, both hands clenched into fists. “Let go! Let go!” She began punctuating every word by beating on her captor’s spine. “I!” THUNK. “DON’T!” THUNK. “WANNA” THUNK. “GET!” THUNK. “CHANGED!” All she got for a reply was a tighter grip on her legs and back, and feel the vibrations of the man’s laughter as he chuckled to himself. “Forbies.” It had been Kelsey’s goal to get away from the oversized toddler playhouse, and she got her wish. The big man whipped around, and she could see it shrinking in the distance as he carried her to the part of this whole playground carnival setup that she’d most hoped to avoid. He took big, quick steps as she pounded powerlessly on him, and soon Darling in her sagging underwear was lagging behind, too. Kelsey continued to beat against the old mammoth, refusing to give up. “LET!” THUNK “ME!” THUNK. “GO!” THUNK. “Just be a good girl, and you can get back to playing,” her captor spoke in steady, unbothered rhythm, “I promise.” The sun stopped shining for Kelsey as she was carried into the tent; the smells of sweat, human waste and baby powder flooded her nostrils. Her world went topsy-turvy for a moment as she was slung off her captor’s shoulder onto a table. She let out a gasp as her back hit the padded surface and a strap was pulled across her chest. She twisted her head this way and that, so that she could gather her bearings. For ten feet in every direction there were padded tables, manned by men and women in scrubs. If not for the context, Kelsey might think they were med students or nurses or something. Heck, they still might be. The tables themselves were thick and sturdy, with shelves underneath, each one stocked with pastel and white rectangles in different thicknesses and sizes. On top of them was a little nook with baby wipes and powder, and a little mobile dangling tiny plush dolls over the head rest. Beside them were shiny silver garbage cans with lids that popped up when you stepped on a pedal. If that wasn’t enough, more telling were the people who were laying on top of them. As Kelsey wriggled and struggled with the restraints, she saw Darling waddle up and get helped up onto a table. She saw Darling begin sucking her thumb and batting at the mobile above her head, while the attendant secured her to the table, cooing baby talk all the while. Changing table! She was on a changing table! Frantically, the college senior tried to unbuckle the strap across her chest, her fingers trying to work at the latch just below her breasts, but nothing was working. She could feel the simple release button on the buckle, just like a seatbelt, but for some reason, her fingers couldn’t push it hard enough. Was there another release somewhere that had to be pushed simultaneously, or had her fingers just become incredibly weak? “We’ve got a squirmer”, the man who’d restrained her called out. “Order up.” A red-haired lady in pink scrubs walked up to the other side of the adult changing table. “Oh, thanks for finding another one, Jude.” She said. “You’re a real saint.” “Don’t I know it?” Jude chuckled, walking off. The lady pulled a pair of vinyl gloves from a box. “Okay, okay. Calm down, sugar. This isn’t gonna be a big deal. I’m just gonna change your diaper.” “There’s been a mistake!” Kelsey panted, trying one last attempt at reason. “I’m not really a baby!” The nurse, as Kelsey thought of her, smiled condescendingly down at her. “Of course not, honey. You’re a Forever baby.” One by one in rapid succession, the snaps holding Kelsey’s shortalls were undone. The privacy and protection that her clothes offered her was just an illusion, the popping of little brass buttons signaling the end of the pretense. Kelsey did not think to kick the woman in the face as the thick, cartoon decorated diaper, once white but now horribly discolored by her excrement came into view when the denim was peeled back. “Why do people keep saying that?!” Kelsey asked, ignoring yet another gross and casual violation of herself. “You wouldn’t understand,” the red-haired lady said, smiling sweetly. “You’re a little too immature.” She leaned over and stared at the teddy bear decorated waistline of Kelsey’s diaper, and traced some strange logo near the side of the landing strip. “Let’s see,” she spoke more to herself. “Size 12, looks like.” “I’m plenty mature,” Kelsey spoke up, protesting as the nurse bent over and began filing through drawers just beneath her peripheral vision. The other woman stood up, holding an identical (though clean) diaper to the one Kelsey was wearing. “Is your diaper wet?” the nurse asked innocently enough. “Yeah…” Kelsey admitted. “Do big girls pee-pee in their pants?” Kelsey’s face flushed. “No..but..” “Did you know you were wet?” “Yeah..but you see-“ Kelsey was interrupted. “Then why didn’t you come get it changed?” Kelsey clenched her teeth and as calmly as she could, began,“I was in the middle of explaining to these two other girls about my college degr-“ “So you were too busy talking with your little friends to come get changed?” “I mean, when you put it that way…” Kelsey admitted, not liking where this was going. The red-haired woman all but waved the fresh diaper in front of the younger girl’s face. “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” “I-“ “If you were really a big girl,” she cut Kelsey off, “and had had a pee-pee accident, wouldn’t you have come and found a grown-up to help sort things out?” “I mean,” Kelsey tried to explain, not thinking before she spoke. “I had already pooped.” The two women locked eyes in dawning recognition of the opportunity Kelsey had just provided her verbal sparring partner. Too late, Kelsey realized she should have just kept her mouth shut. “Oh, you pooped too?” the nurse smirked. “Yeah…” “Do big girls poop their pants?” As if to accentuate her point, the nurse lifted Kelsey’s legs by the back of her knees, sliding the back half of her shortalls away and giving the discolored brown backside of Kelsey’s diaper a firm pat. “No….” Kelsey yipped at the sensation, a grimace coming across her face. The red-haired woman pressed on as she grabbed a packet of baby wipes. “Did you know you had a messy diaper on?” “Uh-huh…” The nurse took the time to redirect her gaze straight into the (former it seemed) college senior’s face. “Why didn’t you come get cleaned up? Even big girls have accidents sometimes.” “I was trying to get answers from these two kids who were playing house and weren’t making any sense.” Kelsey pleaded her case. “And you didn’t want to come all the way back here to get cleaned up?” “Yeah!” Kelsey gulped in realization. Why did she keep on talking? “So you were too busy playing house to be bothered. Is that mature?” “No…” “It’s okay, sweetie, you can’t help it.” The woman’s gloved hands spider tickled their way up the poor girl’s legs. Kelsey didn’t giggle, though. “You’re a Forever baby. Let’s get you changed and then you can get back to playing until your Mommy or Daddy comes to pick you up.” “Uh-huh…” Kelsey sighed. “Fuck me,” she whispered.
    1 point
  22. A lot of this is similar to yours. So to be fair I will list some of ours. Keep in mind these have evolved over years. This is most of them. Maybe she has not been to far off. Would like to hear from others. Some of yours are harsher some not. When I am diapered rules... I can wear diapers when I want, but when she sees that i need to be in diapers I must comply. I am no longer an adult when diapered. I have the rights of a toddler in diapers. You give up all adult decisions and lose your privacy. She will decide what diapers I wear and I must follow these rules no matter who decided I put diapers on. Exception only for big financial decisions and our kids. 1) Once the diapers are on she decides when I change and can remove them and return to underwear. 2) I must use the diapers for all wetting. No potty for that. I can must ask for permission to use the potty for #2. This may or may not be permitted. If locked in diapers then the diapers are my potty. 3) I cannot adjust or remove my diapers without her permission. I can never have my hands inside my diapers. 4)She can check my diapers when she pleased and decides when I may change. I may not ever ask for it or do it without an agreement. 5) I may not ask, pester, or hint of wanting sex. Only an adult can do that. 6) Anytime I go on vacation with out her, ex hunting trip., I will be diapered at home upon returning and remain in diapers at a rate of two days for every day I was gone. 7) Anytime she gives me a reprieve from diapers for a family function or similar I must wear diapers for a minimum of two more days upon my return. 8) Diapers must be worn any time someone is buying diapers or diaper related supplies. I don't have to be present at the time. 9) My diapers must always show a diaper buldge familiar with toddlers. Exception only for work or around my family. 10) I am to wear Diapers to bed every night unless away without her. 11) If my diapers leak my next diaper must be thicker or doubled. Her decision. 12) All diapers will be layered to her choosing all the time. I maybe placed in the care of a sitter. (Has not happened yet but been threatened) They have all rights she would have. If I misbehave she will punish me. I also can have Corner time( used only once so far) I also can get a spanking( very rare) I get more time in diapers like you. (My most common punishment) Sent to work in diapers( occasion) Forced to wear very thick diapers (happens once in a while) Locked in diapers(happens many times for no reason) Removes using potty privilege for #2 Or as she sees fit just like you.(usually involves her diapering me and embarrassing me in some form, not often)
    1 point
  23. The best thing? Shining a bright warm light on what it means to like diapers and regression and to tell people that, deep down, it's okay and you're okay.
    1 point
  24. From the album: Funshine Photoshoots

    Trying my best to look adorable
    1 point
  25. I've just noticed that the article fails to say why the police looked at his computer in the first place.
    1 point
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