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Getting some samples of the Rearz Inspire+ diapers from my friends at https://diapersharks.com/ Rearz's newest US distributor. Can't wait to try them!

Last Chapter - what's it going to be like for Keeley to be babysat? ----- 8 “Who’s this special friend? They look really well loved.” Trish said, kneeling by the playpen. Keeley hurried over in distress, ready to defend Gordo. She still didn’t trust this babysitter that her nannies had forced on her. Trish was only looking at the stuffies though, she hadn’t picked up Gordo or anything. “That’s Gordo.” Keeley said, snatching up her rat and cuddling him next to the whale. “He’s been your friend for a long time, hasn’t he?” Trish said with a smile. “I didn’t see him for a while.” Keeley said, sniffling. “Oh, was he lost?” Trish asked. “Kinda.” Keeley dug a hole in the carpet with her toe. She couldn’t explain her mom putting Gordo away without explaining stuff about the game that Trish didn’t need to know. “Well, I’m really glad he’s back.” Trish said. “You can introduce him to your new friend now.” “I don’t have a name for her yet.” Keeley said. “The whale?” Trish said. When Keeley nodded, she chewed on her lip. “Hmm, a whale should have a big sounding name. How about Bertha?” Keeley considered, looking at the whale. It was a weird name, but it was a weird whale. She set Bertha facing Gordo and said, “Bertha, this is Gordo. Gordo, this is Bertha.” “Perfect.” Trish giggled. “Okay, I have some activities planned, but maybe you could show me your stuff first. Your nannies told me that you do a lot of art stuff.” “They did?” Keeley asked curiously. “Yeah, Ms. Galvez was really proud of you when she was talking about it.” Dominika had been proud of her? So proud that she’d told a random teenager? Keeley blushed and beamed at the same time. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to wiggle, dance, or hide her face in her stuffies. “Oh, and one other thing while we’re getting started.” Trish said. Keeley was about to ask what that thing was, when Trish lifted her skirt and patted her diaper’s front and back. It happened too quickly for Keeley to make a fuss or dodge out of the way. Plus, she was dry, there was nothing to talk about. Deciding to pretend that never happened, Keeley scurried to the toy shelves to grab her coloring book and brought it back to Trish. Her babysitter sat next to her on the couch and opened the book. “Oh wow! You don’t just color, you make a whole new picture!” Trish said. She sounded genuinely impressed. “I wanted to make the faeries underwater ones.” Keeley said. “So, I added the coral and stuff.” “You did more than that, you totally changed their outfits.” Trish said. “This is really cool. Did you do these after going to the Sea Witch?” “Yeah.” Keeley said. “Plus, I made splinter-people on the beach, so I was thinking about ocean stuff a lot.” “Aww, I guess I made an impression huh? I was kind of worried you didn’t like me, with the reaction I got when I arrived.” “It’s not you.” Keeley said, pouting and scooting away from Trish. “It’s just, I don’t know you and I’m – I have all this baby stuff and…” “Hey, Keeley?” Trish said in a gentle voice. “I think you’re a really cute, really special girl. You make really cool pictures, but even if you didn’t, you’re fun to be around.” “I am?” Keeley asked. “Yeah. You’re super sweet. I’m really glad I got asked to babysit you.” “You’ve been really nice to me.” Keeley mumbled bashfully. “Keeley, can I give you a hug?” Trish asked. Of course, she wanted a hug. But Trish was a stranger. Any minute she could realize how ridiculous the baby thing was and laugh at Keeley. Or take pictures and share them. Or yell at her. Or – sit on her phone and ignore the stupid baby. “It’s okay if the answer is no.” Trish said. “The offer is open.” Before she could give herself more reasons not to, Keeley lunged across the gap between them and grabbed Trish. There were a terrifying few moments while Trish was caught off guard; and Keeley was holding someone who was sitting there like a lump. Then Trish’s arms wrapped around her, gentle and full of way more caring than Keeley would ever expect from a stranger. In the process of working her way into a proper snuggle, Keeley ended up on Trish’s lap. They were about the same size, but Trish didn’t seem to mind. She even nuzzled Keeley’s cheek. At that moment Keeley decided that Trish wasn’t just an acceptable babysitter, but a really good one. Not that she planned to tell Trish that. The afternoon would be way more fun if Trish still thought she had to go all-out to win Keeley over. “You’re adorable. I could sit like this for a long time. You let me know when you want to play, okay?” Trish said. Keeley nodded. It wasn’t time to end the snuggle yet. Not while Trish was warm, holding her tightly, and stroking her hair. Eventually though, Keeley felt the wiggles return. She hopped off of Trish’s lap. Her stuffies had been launched when she’d gone in for the hug. Keeley set them on the couch side by side, snuggling and looked expectantly at Trish. Her babysitter looked a little dazed and pink cheeked. Maybe Trish had gotten overheated during the snuggles. “Okay, what games are we going to do?” Keeley asked. “I was going to do hide and seek, but we’re not supposed to go down to the beach.” Trish said. When Keeley pouted, Trish nodded back. “Don’t you worry, I’m the most popular babysitter in town!” Trish dragged the coffee table away from the couch and started working the couch more into the middle of the living room. “You are not.” Keeley teased. “Everybody does hide and seek.” “You doubt my powers?” Trish said with a grin. “Then get ready for – balloon tennis!” Trish opened the bag she’d left by the front door. It was a good-sized duffel. Out of the bag came a pair of toy plastic racquets and a bag of balloons. “Balloon tennis?” Keeley asked curiously. It seemed pretty straightforward, but it there was potential for fun. “That’s right.” Trish said. “Can you blow up a balloon on your own?” “Course I can!” Keeley declared. Trish handed her a trio of balloons and she set to blowing them up. Trish blew up three balloons as well and bounced one of them on her racquet. “Rules are simple. You have to get the balloon over the couch. We start out with just one. Every time a balloon touches the floor the person on that side has to pick it up as fast as they can and serve it back over the couch. While they’re doing that, the other person grabs a new balloon and serves that one.” “And then we get a point when we put in a new balloon?” Keeley asked, confused. “No points, just fun!” Trish said, gently lobbing the first balloon at Keeley. “Coming at ya!” Keeley giggled and batted the balloon back. They made it to three volleys before Keeley missed. She had hardly gotten the balloon picked up and back in the game, when another one was coming at her face. Giggling, she swatted it back hard. Hard as a balloon could fly anyway. Eventually the game devolved into picking up balloons and swatting them across the couch. Neither Trish nor Keeley could keep up with six balloons in the air. They were both giggling and breathless. Keeley felt an annoying pressure in her bladder and let go so she could concentrate on the three balloons Trish had rapid-fired across the couch. She’d swatted them back and added a fourth when she realized what she’d done. Everything had been so much fun, but now she was a stupid baby with a wet diaper. Trish was going to check her diaper again eventually and find out. Wetting herself twice in front of Trish, meant the younger girl would think that Keeley wasn’t potty trained at all. Two of the four balloons came back over the couch. Keeley let them drift past her. The hot feeling behind her eyes was back. She was too disappointed to resist the tears. Playing with Trish had made her too little to even cry quietly. “Keeley, are you okay?” Trish asked, stupidly, when Keeley started bawling. Of course she wasn’t okay. Keeley dropped her racket and pressed her hands to the front of her skirt. “Hey, what’s the matter?” Trish asked, putting her arms around Keeley gently. “What happened.” “I hu-hu-had an a-accident.” Keeley sobbed. It was true too. She hadn’t been paying attention and had peed her pants, even though she didn’t want to in front of Trish. There wasn’t anything else to call it. Somehow it was easier to admit to Trish than it would have been to her nannies. Probably because she wouldn’t see Trish again after this weekend. That only made Keeley sadder. She didn’t want to never see Trish again. It was stupid, and crazy, and weird, but she really liked Trish. Even as a babysitter. Especially as a babysitter. The reasons to cry just kept piling on. She shouldn’t want to have a babysitter, not in her late 20s! “That’s okay hon, it’s not the first time.” Trish said gently. “You had one when we met. Your nannies told me all about it, it’s totally okay. I’m not upset, and I don’t think you’re bad.” “I was gonna be a big girl for you!” Keeley howled. “I was going to show you that I don’t have accidents.” “Oh darling.” Trish hugged Keeley lightly, resting the crying girl’s face on her shoulder. “That’s really sweet, thank you. It means a lot to me that you tried that, even if it didn’t work out.” “You don’t have to say stuff like that.” Keeley sniffled. “I know it’s dumb and weird for a girl my age to have accidents.” “I don’t think you’re dumb and weird.” Trish said. “But I bet you worry about that a lot with people. This is a safe space, okay?” “What do you mean?” Keeley broke out of her funk enough to return Trish’s hug. “It’s okay for you to be a baby girl here, okay?” Trish patted Keeley’s back. “This doesn’t change anything. You’re still the cool, pretty, talented girl I’ve been babysitting.” “I’m not pretty.” Keeley said, knowing it was true with her face tear-streaked and snotty. “We’ll just have to disagree on that.” Trish said. “Come on Keeley, let’s get you changed so we can go back to playing.” Head down in defeat, Keeley let Trish lead her to the changing room. She climbed up without protest. There wasn’t a lot to protest about being diapered now. That first time her nannies had had to put her in bondage cuffs seemed really far away now. Trish gave Keeley some tissues and tore the tapes off her diaper. There was a final moment of anxiety when Trish peeled it away and exposed Keeley. She shredded the tissue in her hand, hoping Trish wouldn’t get weird somehow. The gentle, soothing wipe-job that Trish did helped calm the knot in Keeley’s tummy. There were lots of soft caresses as her babysitter got a new diaper under her and powdered Keeley up. When the diaper’s tapes were secured, Trish sat Keeley up and wordlessly wiped the girl’s face. She even held a new tissue to Keeley’s nose. “Blow.” Trish said, in an oddly quiet voice. Trish was blushing again. It had probably been weird to change someone as old as Keeley. Obediently, Keeley blew her nose. It took a couple of tries to get it all out. What a wreck she was. This couldn’t be fun for Trish at all. “I’m sorry.” Keeley said miserably. “I’m sorry that was gross and weird.” “Huh?” Trish said, looking genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” “Changing me. You had to get all up in my – stuff.” Keeley said. “Plus, I’m all gross and snotty. I’m sorry.” “Uh, Keeley.” Trish rubbed the back of her head. “That was uh – kind of amazing.” “Huh?” “This is embarrassing for me to say.” Trish said with a sigh. “But that was really intimate and special. I liked being able to share that with you.” “That’s why you’re blushing?” Keeley asked, not quite believing her babysitter. “I am?” Trish doubled, maybe even tripled down on the blush. “Oh uh – wow I didn’t realize that uh – hrm! That’s a different thing. Yeah.” “Tell me.” Keeley said petulantly. She’d just been about as vulnerable as a person could be, Trish didn’t get to keep secrets. First came the secrets, then she got made fun of. “Shit uh – look, this isn’t the kind of thing I should tell you as uh, your babysitter.” Trish said. Faced with Keeley’s demanding frown, she sighed. “Okay, okay. I told you that I think you’re pretty.” “Yeah, but what does that have to do with – oh.” Keeley’s eyes widened. She blushed as well. “I’m sorry for bringing it up!” Trish said hastily. “I mean, you sort of brought it up but it’s super unprofessional of me. You don’t have to worry about anything like that, promise.” “I have a boyfriend.” Keeley said defensively. “And I’ve had – girlfriends. It’s not like I don’t do that kind of stuff.” “Oh.” Trish said. That information snapped her fading blush back to life. “Wow um – that’s cool.” “You really think I’m pretty?” Keeley asked. “Like, hot pretty. Even – like this?” “Yes.” Trish said. It was her turn to look away in embarrassment. She fidgeted. Trish was pretty cute herself. Especially when she was fidgeting and didn’t know what to do. Trish’s fidgets gave Keeley enough space to feel like she could take control of the direction for a bit. She reached over and grabbed the baby powder, dumping it all over the front of her shirt and dress. “Keeley!” Trish said in alarm. “What are you doing?” “Oops!” Keeley giggled. “I got my clothes all dirty. I guess my babysitter is going to have to change me into a new outfit.” Trish swallowed hard. Her eyes dilated and her breath sped up. “Did you just…” “My nannies showed you where the spare clothes are, right?” Keeley asked, faux innocently. “Yeah.” Trish licked her lips. “I uh – I’m kind of confused though. Not about you flirting with me. That’s like – super clear. But you have a boyfriend.” “This weekend is kinda to get me away from him.” Keeley said sadly, kicking her legs. She had to turn away from Trish to say the next part. “He’s sorta – a drug addict. Not even sorta. It’s bad.” “Oh.” Trish squirmed. “I still feel kind of weird – uh – because I’m responsible for you right now.” “I’m not asking to uh, have sex.” Keeley said softly. “But if you want you can change my clothes and – see the rest of me.” Keeley bit her lip and whispered. “And if I’m a really good girl maybe I would get a kiss.” Trish broke into a broad grin. She stepped in and hugged Keeley tightly. “You are a super good girl. Even when you’re a messy one. Let’s get your clothes changed.” Keeley skipped along with Trish to her bedroom. It had been a long time since she’d had a good opportunity to skip. The tension hanging between her and Trish felt like a magic spell. She was careful to stay inside the boundaries of the magic. While undressing, she let Trish do everything for her. She didn’t baby-talk though, in case it would make Trish feel weird. She made sure to keep her eyes on Trish and let her smiles show through to her face, so it’d be obvious that this was something she wanted. Standing naked in front of Trish – well, in a diaper only, Keeley clasped her hands behind her back shyly. “Am I still pretty?” “You’re beautiful.” Trish said. Her hand was trembling, stuck reaching halfway to Keeley. “You can touch me.” Keeley said softly. Reverently, Trish put her hand on Keeley’s side and gently stroked her skin. Her hand slid up and tenderly cupped Keeley’s breast. It was surprisingly sexy. Way more intense than Keeley had expected. Standing in a diaper in front of her babysitter, being a good girl for Trish was hot in a way that Keeley couldn’t have imagined before. Trish swallowed hard and pulled her hand back. “I think I need to get you dressed.” “Okay Trish.” Keeley said, momentarily feeling like she really was the good girl she had been pretending to be. “What do you want me to wear? There’s the dresses and stuff, but also the baby clothes.” “Lots of choices.” Trish said nervously. “I’ll wear anything you want.” Keeley said sincerely. “I’d even play in just my diaper for you.” “I don’t think I can handle that.” Trish said with a chuckle. “But you wouldn’t mind if I put you in a onesie? It wouldn’t be weird now?” “It wouldn’t be weird.” Keeley said. It was true, she realized. It probably should be weird, but it wasn’t. Not for either of them. Trish had said this was a safe space. She was the babysitter, so she should know. “Did you like me in one?” Keeley asked. “When we met?” “Uh, yeah. It was cute. And hot.” Trish blushed. Keeley grinned. “I like that you think I’m hot. Can you pick me out a pretty one?” “You got it, baby girl.” Trish spent a while investigating the onesies, finally coming back with a tie-dye onesie that looked like a well used paint-palette. “This one?” Keeley asked curiously. It had a chaotic, messy look. All the rest were soft and babyish. “It makes me think of you doing art.” Trish said. “Then it’s perfect!” Keeley held her arms up. As soon as Trish had her in the onesie with the crotch snapped tight, Keeley leaned coyly against her crib. She batted her eyes shamelessly at Trish. “Am I a super extra awesome good girl?” Trish laughed. “You’re kind of a brat. But you’re a good girl too. A super good girl.” Trish leaned in. Keeley closed her eyes and parted her lips. The kiss was sweet and soft. They brushed tongues tentatively. It felt like starting an adventure, the newness of it sparked across Keeley’s lips. They stood together after quietly, Trish pressed lightly up against Keeley, who herself was backed up against the crib. “Am I your good girl?” Keeley asked, in a voice that was barely a breath. “For right now? Yes.” Trish said. “Otherwise – you’re leaving right?” “I could give you my phone number.” Keeley said. “You don’t have to use it though.” “I’ll probably send you dumb stuff from Insta.” Trish said with a smile. “If it makes me laugh, I’d like that.” Keeley said. “We should probably get back to more uh – regular babysitting.” Trish said. “But I like this.” Keeley said, leaning into Trish. “Me too.” Trish kissed Keeley on the cheek and stepped back. “It’s super hard to keep my hands off you though.” “Cause I’m pretty?” Keeley asked with a grin. “And hot.” Trish said happily. “So are you.” Keeley said. “I like you – especially because you’re my babysitter.” “Oh y-yeah?” Trish asked, her voice cracking a little. “Do you like it?” Keeley asked, sinking down to the floor. “When I’m a little girl? With my big, cool babysitter in charge?” “Hot damn.” Trish said, flushed all the way down her neck. “Better catch me before I get into something then!” Keeley said with a wild cackle. She crawl-dashed for the door, surprising Trish and herself at the speed she could manage. All that crawling practice had paid off. Trish caught her in the living room. They giggled on the floor together for a while. The rest of the time they spent eating cookies, drinking soda, and coloring. When the door opened, Keeley could hardly believe that it had already been hours. “Nana!” Keeley shouted, holding out her arms. “I missed you!” “Wow, this is a much happier baby than the one we left.” Vidette said to Trish. “Where did you find her, and what did you do with Keeley?” Trish laughed nervously. Keeley giggled. “Nana Vi, gimme hug!” She demanded. In short order she’d gotten hugs from both her nannies. Trish was standing by, looking pretty awkward. Keeley grinned at her in the hopes that Trish would realize that she wasn’t going to tell. “Hey uh – Ms. Galvez, Ms. Marroquin, there’s something I should tell you.” Trish said. “Hmm?” Dominika arched a brow. Trish’s guilty body language had Nika tense immediately. “Keeley and I – kissed.” Trish said. “Because I asked her to!” Keeley said immediately. “Oh?” Vidette asked, exchanging a look with Dominika. They both looked a little unsure. “I wasn’t planning on doing that when I came here.” Trish said. “I want to be honest with you about it.” “She thinks I’m pretty.” Keeley said, talking right over Dominika’s attempt to speak. “I think she’s pretty. She was really nice, and respectful. I asked her for a kiss, and she kissed me. She didn’t do anything I didn’t want her to do. She didn’t even do all the things I did want.” Trish blushed and bit her lip at that last bit. Vidette chuckled. After a moment Dominika joined her. “I guess it’s okay.” Dominika said. “It sounds like nobody got hurt.” “Thanks.” Trish said. “I know it wasn’t super professional.” “Ugh!” Keeley shouted. Everyone looked at her in surprise. “Trish is a good babysitter, okay? I like her. We had fun and she was kind to me.” “I thought you didn’t like the idea of a babysitter at all.” Vidette said in surprise. “It’s okay if it’s Trish.” Keeley said. “Or you and nana Nika.” “Yeah?” Dominika said, pleased. “You really had a good time, baby girl?” “Yes Nana!” Keeley said happily. She was deep in the game and loving it. She didn’t know how she’d feel about this later and she didn’t care to worry. For now, Keeley was baby. Smol. Precious. All that fun stuff that she wasn’t normally allowed to enjoy. Dominika paid Trish in cash. Keeley got anxious again watching Trish clean up her balloons and racquets. It was suddenly very real that Trish was going to leave. “Nanas, can Trish stay? For dinner at least? Maybe overnight?” Keeley begged. “Aww kiddo.” Trish said. “I’m going to miss you too. I have to get to work though.” “You could skip it!” Keeley insisted. “Nana Nika could just pay you more.” “It doesn’t really work that way.” Trish said, chuckling. “Gimme a hug?” Keeley crushed Trish in a hug. They hugged again when the balloon tennis stuff was put away. During the last hug at the door, Keeley refused to let go. It took Vidette and Trish both to peel her off and make her wave goodbye. Her nannies were obviously touched at how sad she when Trish left. Keeley was ready to milk that for all it was worth. Chicken nuggets, chocolate milk, and ice-cream for dinner helped pave over the Trish-shaped hole in the evening. It took threatening to cry, as well as begging while she was being changed into her nighttime diaper, but Keeley managed to get Vidette to agree that they could share a bed. She still had an earlier bedtime than her nanny, of course. Meditating kept her awake until Vidette came to bed, so she could fall asleep with her nanny’s arms around her. In the morning, Keeley’s heart was at peace. She was doubly warm under the covers with her nanny. The waves and wind were making their soothing sounds. She felt safe. Keeley even dared to feel loved. Vidette shifted as she woke up. Keeley took advantage of her nanny’s stretch to put her head on Vidette’s chest. “Good morning snuggle-bug.” Vidette said. “How’d you sleep?” “Perfect.” Keeley said with a soft sigh. “You are such a cute baby like that.” Vidette said. “How’s my baby’s diaper?” Keeley didn’t see any reason to stop snuggling while Vidette squeezed her diaper. She didn’t have to pee too urgently this morning, so the snuggles could last a while. “Uh oh, looks like somebody had an accident while she was sleeping.” Vidette said. “Nuh uh, that’s from last night.” Keeley said. “I don’t think so hon.” Vidette said gently. “I checked you when I came to bed, and you were still dry. You got your nighttime diaper right before bed last night.” “Oh well, I just went when I woke up.” Keeley said. “Is that so?” Vidette asked. “I’m not sure. It’s not warm and it’s all absorbed.” “I didn’t wet the bed.” Keeley said, starting to grump about it. “Not thanks to your diaper you didn’t.” Vidette said, chuckling. “I didn’t pee in my sleep.” Keeley insisted. It just wasn’t possible. She must have woken up early, peed because she didn’t want to stop snuggling, and then dozed. That made way more sense than wetting overnight. Obviously. “If you say so, baby girl.” Vidette sat up despite Keeley’s protests. “Let’s get you changed and dressed for the day, okay?” “Can’t we snuggle some more, nana? Please?” Keeley wheedled. “Sorry, little girl. It’s time to get up. A little past time, actually.” Yawning, Keeley followed her nanny to the bathroom. It was easy to let Vidette take care of her. It was funny how fast she could get used to something, Keeley thought while she lay on the changing table. Vidette put her in a smaller diaper than usual. While Keeley was wondering about that, she was confronted by a bigger question. Vidette was putting her in leggings and an adult skirt. “Why am I wearing adult clothes?” Keeley asked, popping her head through the fuzzy sweater Vidette was putting on her. She was even wearing a bra. That felt weird after a couple days of not. “The long weekend is over sweetie. We’re going home.” “Oh.” Keeley sat on the changing table and looked down at her knees. It was a sad thing to hear. Even though at first she’d wanted nothing more than for the game to end. They weren’t going to be her nannies anymore. There weren’t going to be any more snuggles, or hanging out together, or playing silly games without having to worry about being teased for it. She had plenty of servants at home to take care of her, but nobody was going to tuck her in, or tell her not to eat too many cookies, or even care if Zach came over. “Baby girl, it’s going to be okay.” Vidette said. She wiped the tears gently off Keeley’s cheeks and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re really going to miss our game?” “I liked being taken care of.” Keeley said. She could do without the diapers. Though to be honest, she hadn’t hated them so much at the end. It was going to be really lonely at home. Zach would be recovering from whatever he’d done over the weekend, she wouldn’t see him for a week at least. “We liked taking care of you.” Dominika said from the door. “You know you can call us or text us whenever, right?” “I guess.” Keeley said. “You have your little friend too.” Vidette said. “You gave Trish your phone number, right?” “Yeah, but she lives far away.” Keeley said. “Plus, I’m sure she has her own friends and stuff.” “Don’t give up on her before you even leave town.” Dominika said. “Wait.” Keeley said in confusion. “If we’re going home, how come I’m wearing a diaper?” “To protect my car seats. You got pretty used to using them this weekend.” Vidette said. “And you wet the bed last night.” “Did not!” Keeley protested. “So you say. Anyway, it’s just a little extra protection for my baby girl on the ride home.” “Fine.” Keeley said. What was a couple more hours in a diaper after a whole weekend? “You going to be okay, little girl?” Dominika asked. “Is it really okay if I call or text?” Keeley asked sadly. “I know you’re both really busy.” “We are.” Dominika said. “We have work, and alumni activities for our sorority, Vidette does some volunteering, and I’m starting my own company soon.” Keeley sighed and nodded. “You can still call or text us any time. I might not always be able to answer when you call, but I’ll call back.” Dominika said. “Really?” Keeley asked, looking up at her nannies with tears shining in her eyes. “Really darling.” Vidette said. “The same goes for me. If I can’t respond right away, I will get back to you. Promise.” “Okay.” Keeley smiled softly. “Well, maybe if we were still playing on the drive home, that wouldn’t be so terrible.” “We can do that.” Vidette said. “I’m glad you liked the game so much.” “Great!” Keeley said, hopping off the changing table. “I’ll let my nannies take care of my bags then.” “What?” Vidette asked. Dominika laughed. “Oh she got you Vi!” “Don’t worry, I got my stuffies!” Keeley said, flouncing out to the living room. It would take a couple of hours to drive back to Ardenthill. Back to her parents’ big, empty house. She could put off the lonely feelings for that long at least. While her nannies were packing up the cars, they gave Keeley her phone back. She had a billion text messages and missed calls, of course. Keeley couldn’t remember the last time she’d been away from her phone for days. One message from a new number stood out. It was a selfie of Trish. The text below said, “Put a silly Insta filter on this and use it for my contact pic!” Keeley giggled and found the weirdest clown filter she could. She sent back a selfie of herself in the front seat of Vidette’s car, holding Gordo and both her stuffies from the Sea Witch. After the pic she texted, “I have to be a big girl again. I’ll text you stuff. You can tell me if it gets annoying.” By the time Vidette had pulled out onto the main highway, Keeley had a reply. “No U.” It was followed by a torrent of silly animal memes and funny Tik-Tok clips. Keeley giggled and spammed her new friend right back.

Well said Brian!😁😏😉 Yeah, you hit the nail on the head. His issues are his, and I'm at the point in my life where I have no more compassion to give him honestly. He's above my pay grade.

Listen closely to the intro: I almost dropped my lights...erm...magic wand

I was getting the "update" screen from aboutg 11:30 PM last night until about 10:45 this morning EDT. I expected to find wholesale changes, maybe pink walls and lace curtains, but when I got here everything looked the same

Thanks for that long explanation Brian. I think I understand it now.😅😂😁 But I still think the word diaper better suits the overall description of the product better, but that's just my opinion. I find that it rolls off the tongue better anyway.😄😛😊

Comes from "napkin". Check out the end of one of the early episodes of MAN FROM UNCLE as they discuss an affectionate nickname for Napoleon Solo https://www.solie.org/alibrary/TheManfromUNCLE.html Does this all mean that I will be able to get a Bourne Identity babydoll some day?

*Snuggles!*🤗♥️

I love you to Jesse *Gives big hugs and kisses back*

Me neither

Yeah, I've noticed that British people have different enunciations of the same words that mean different things versus the US. Like for example, how you just mentioned that onesie in the UK means a full body suit footie pajamas style sleep clothes, whereas in the US, when we say "onesie" we mean like "baby" onesie. It can kind of get confusing honestly. What I don't get is why British people call diapers "nappies" instead.🤔🤨😕 I NEVER understood that.😅😂😆

Do you mean the part about the Star Wars onesie? What we call a onesie here in the UK (one piece PJs) went mainstream ages ago and the videos narrator has a British accent so I assume that’s what he’s probably referring to. Good spot though, would be cool if he was talking about an infant bodysuit and that went mainstream

I figure we should probably start at the beginning. The first "season" of stories about Sarah and Nikki was started nine years ago and it all happens in 2015. Some of the stories are complete stories, others will be posted in parts. I hope to be posting new parts (or complete shorter stories) weekly, but we'll have to see how things turn out. Finally, bear in mind that English is not my first language so there may be a few odd expressions that the spell-checker didn’t catch and my punctuation may not be 100% right. (For one thing, I’m far to fond of commas.) --- Full disclosure To say that Nikki woke up with a pounding headache would be an insult to what was going on between her ears. Her tongue felt like she had been making out with a dirty mop. Even her hair hurt. The light that filtered through her eyelids was so bright she didn't dare open them. Even the silence was a deafening roar. In short, she was hung over. So very, very hung over. Doing her best to ignore the pain, Nikki tried to figure out what had happened, starting with the previous evening. She remembered going out with a couple of girlfriends to a bar. She remembered having a few drinks and complaining about state of her love life, or rather the lack thereof. She also remembered a failed attempt to make out with one of her friends, but she wasn't quite sure who. And then there had been more drinks. Lots more. But after that, Nikki drew a complete blank. So how had she gone from being at the bar, to being in a bed that didn't feel like her own, wearing... She checked... Nikki's eyes flew open, eyelashes brushing against the duvet that was pulled over her head. A diaper?!? Nikki threw the duvet aside, shock and adrenaline cancelling out the hangover for the moment. She was wearing nothing but a diaper. "What the hell..." And then the hangover returned. Nikki buried her head in the duvet to shut out the world. After what might have been half an eternity, or maybe minute, she heard a door opening and felt the mattress shift as somebody sat down on the bed next to her. "How are you doing?" a voice said quietly. Nikki knew that voice. It was Sarah, her best friend. "Hung over," Nikki managed to croak. "I kinda figured you'd be." The duvet was lifted away from Nikki's head and something cool was pressed to her lips. "Aspirin," Sarah said. Nikki swallowed the pills and the water, fighting a tiny wave of nausea. "There's a bathrobe here for when you're feeling better." Sarah stood and carefully tucked the duvet in around Nikki before leaving the room. After a little while, questions began churning in Nikki's head. What had happened last night? How had she ended up at Sarah's? And last, but not least, why the hell was she wearing a diaper? Sarah had not been part of the drunken escapades last night, at least not as far as Nikki could remember. She had been invited, but had had to do some work thing and couldn't come. Sarah and Nikki had met through a mutual friend a couple of years earlier and gone on a few dates. One of the problems had been that Sarah, being a teacher, was a professional control freak and Nikki also hated not being in control of things. They had just both been unable to talk openly enough about what was bothering them. That led to a series of low-level arguments that would constantly be simmering just below the surface. Luckily, they had realized that the way things were they wouldn't work out as a couple and agreed that mediocre sex was not worth the inevitable nuclear disagreement that would come if they stayed together. Despite not working out as a couple they had remained good friends, hanging out together and once even going on a double date together. That had been an absolute fiasco as their dates had left together, leaving Sarah and Nikki with the check. There had been some epic drinking that night. Eventually the aspirin began to work its pharmaceutical magic and Nikki decided she needed some answers. She crawled out of bed and grabbed the thick terrycloth robe lying at the foot of the bed. Before putting it on though, she tore off the tape tabs holding the diaper in place and pulled it off. Then she headed off in the search for answers. Nikki stumbled out of the Sarah's guest room, down the hall past the bathroom and into the living room where Sarah was curled up on the sofa, reading a book. "What happened last night?" Nikki asked. "And how did I end up here?" she continued without giving Sarah time to answer the first question. "And why the fuck did you put this on me?" Nikki waved the diaper she was still holding for some reason. Sarah closed the book and put it on the coffee table. "I have no idea what you did last night, but judging from the state I found you in, there was some serious drinking involved." "What do you mean?" Nikki felt a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. "When I came home last night, you were serenading my front door, declaring your undying love for me for all my neighbours to hear." Nikki groaned "Also," Sarah continued, "you had redecorated my front steps with vomit. And you had wet yourself." Nikki wanted to find a small hole and hide from the world. She sat down on the sofa next to Sarah. "Anyway, I sort of hosed you down in the shower and put you to bed before throwing your clothes in the washer." "And the diaper?" Nikki was almost afraid to hear Sarah's answer. "Well, you'd already wet yourself once, and I didn't want to risk the mattress, so I put it on you as a precaution." "Well, that kinda makes sense," Nikki admitted. "Judging from the way you waved it around just now, I'm guessing it's still dry." "Yeah." Nikki smiled sheepishly. Then, a thought bubbled up to the surface of her consciousness. "So why do you have adult diapers lying around?" "Um..." Sarah started. "Well..." She turned pink as she struggled to find the words she was looking for. "Oh my God," Nikki said in sudden realization. "They're yours! You use diapers?" Sarah went from pink to pale. "No, I don't use diapers," she said unconvincingly. "So why do you have them lying around then? You can't have that many drunk exes showing up at your door. Unless..." Nikki felt her brain shift into gear. "Unless you don't use them." Looking at Sarah, she knew she had figured it out. "So you don't use them, but you do wear them," she said triumphantly. Sarah looked like she wanted to crawl in between the cushions in the sofa and just disappear. The feeling of victory Nikki had felt vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She sat down next to Sarah and put her arms around her, pulling her close. Nikki felt warm tears hitting her shoulder as Sarah cried quietly. She reached up and gently stroked Sarah's hair, quietly murmuring that she was sorry and that everything was going to be OK. For a while, they sat like this, but eventually Nikki broke the silence. "But why?" she asked. "What?" Sarah said between sniffles. "Why do you wear them?" "I don't know. I just like wearing them sometimes." "But you don't need them. You don't even use them." "I know. It's like... I don't know... They kinda make me feel safe, like I don't have to worry." "Like you don't have to be in control of everything any more and can just relax." "Yeah, I suppose." Nikki gently brushed Sarah's cheeks, wiping away the tears. "Why didn't you tell me this when we were dating?" "You would've freaked out. I saw how you were five minutes ago." "OK, not my finest hour, I'll admit that," Nikki said with a little smile. "But in my defence, you didn't exactly ease me into it." "So you don't think I'm a freak?" "Sure I do, but not in a bad way. I always thought you were the most adorable weirdo I've ever met." Sarah smiled and hugged Nikki again. After a long while, Nikki spoke again. "Sarah, you know I'd never hurt you, right?" "Yeah." "Do you trust me? I mean really trust me. I'm talking 'I like to wear diapers'-trust me." Sarah nodded. "I do." "Enough to let me be in charge when we're together? To let this be the place where you don't have to be in control of everything." Sarah's eyes widened. "Are you asking me if I want to..." Her voice trailed off. "Give 'us' another shot?" Nikki finished. "I guess I am." The kiss Sarah gave Nikki answered the question more eloquently than words ever could. "One condition though," Nikki said after she got her breath back. "Complete honesty. Last time, things fell apart because you didn't trust me to know that you needed to let go of your control. And I'm sure there were things I didn't tell you too." "Deal," Sarah said. "Now, how about some breakfast?" ~~~ Since neither of the girls felt like leaving the comfort of the sofa, breakfast became raid-the-bowl-of-fruit-on-the-coffee-table instead. After feeding each other clementines and grapes (and a couple of chocolate covered mints that Nikki discovered at the bottom of the bowl), the conversation turned back to the big, padded elephant in the room: Diapers. "So is it just the diapers you wear, or do you go full-on baby, like that guy on that old C.S.I.-episode?" Nikki wondered. She was sitting cross-legged in the corner of the sofa while Sarah lay on her back, resting her head in Nikki's lap. "Just the diapers. I was a baby once and I think that was enough. It's like I said: It's that feeling of safety that does it for me. The diapers are enough for me, I don't need to crawl around in a onesie with my hair in pigtails and a pacifier in my mouth." "I don't know. I think you'd look cute in pigtails." Nikki ran her fingers through Sarah's long auburn hair. Sarah responded by blowing a raspberry. "Nah, you're right," Nikki admitted. "Besides, I don't really see myself as Mommy Nikki either. I mean, it'd feel a little odd since you're both taller than me, and..." Nikki reached down to cup one of Sarah's breasts and give it a playful little squeeze. "You're much more mom-shaped." "So what then? Mistress Nikki?" Sarah said with a chuckle. Nikki wrinkled her nose and popped a grape in her mouth. "Nah. Way too formal. Ma'am should do." Sarah raised her eyebrows. "You're serious?" Nikki blushed when she realized what she let slip. "Come on," Sarah said. "No more secrets. We agreed." Nikki sighed. "Fine, yeah. I suppose you could say I'm more than just a little bit bossy." "I can just see it: Mistress Nicolette. Supplier of severe spankings sitting in her scary... Damn, I can't think of a word for dungeon beginning with an s." Nikki burst out laughing. "Seriously though," Sarah continued after Nikki calmed down. "You like to parade around in black leather and have submissive slaves tied up and ready to be spanked?" Nikki smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like somebody's been doing a little 'research' on the internet," she said. Sarah blushed. "You of all people should know that reality is rarely like the internet." "Not even a little?" Sarah asked. "Ma'am?" She wiggled her eyebrows, making Nikki giggle again. "OK, maybe a little. I have to admit that some of the outfits are pretty awesome-looking, but the spanking and whipping and all that pain-stuff isn't really my deal. Sure, a little smack, nibble or pinch, but it's not like I want to hurt people. Just like you want that feeling of safety, I want control. That feeling of being completely in charge is a rush." Sarah nodded. "And how many pretty and naked blondes do you have chained up in your basement?" Nikki just rolled her eyes. Then she leaned down and kissed Sarah's forehead. "You know I prefer redheads." For a while, Nikki just sat there, stroking Sarah's hair. "Are you saying you want to lead me around on a leash?" Sarah asked. "Are you saying you'd want me to?" Nikki countered, suddenly serious. Sarah opened her eyes and looked up at Nikki. "I think maybe I do," she said cautiously. "I'm serious Sarah. If we do this, you're giving up your rights to make decisions when I'm in charge." Sarah nodded. "I know," she whispered. "And it's not one of those 24/7 internet slavery fantasies that you've no doubt read. That's just not practical. We're talking about anything from an evening to a weekend at most. But during that time, you're mine." "Mm-hmm." "We might go out in public. It could be embarrassing for you." "But would you ever hurt me? On purpose I mean." "Never sweetie." "Then yes," Sarah said. "Ma'am," she added with a whisper. Nikki smiled. "In that case, I think we're dressed a little improperly, don't you think? I mean, you're fully dressed and I'm just wearing a bathrobe. My clothes should be dry by now so you can fetch them." "OK," Sarah said and got up from the sofa. Nikki grabbed her arm. "OK, what?" she asked with a grin. "OK Ma'am." Sarah said, obviously struggling a little to stay serious. A couple of minutes later, Sarah returned with Nikki's clothes, still warm from the dryer. "Now, while I get dressed, I want you to go to your bedroom." Sarah nodded. "And undress..." "Yes Ma'am," Sarah said; anticipation evident in her voice. "And then I want you to put on one of your diapers." Sarah's eyes widened. "W-what?" she said, suddenly nervous. "You heard me," Nikki said sternly. Sarah's thoughts raced. Was Nikki serious? Why the diaper? Was this all some kind of elaborate payback? Eventually, Sarah decided that this was just a test of her commitment to their new relationship. Maybe even a bit of a dealbreaker. After all, she had just agreed to let Nikki be in charge of everything, even if it was embarrassing. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and said "Yes Ma'am." "There's a good girl," Nikki said with a smile. Sarah felt a stomach full of nervous butterflies mingling with the warm glow of the compliment as she turned and walked towards her bedroom. ~~~ Nikki dressed quickly, pulling on her tight black pants and smoothing the wrinkles down. Then, on a whim, she decided to leave her bra off before pulling on the dark red, loose top. She looked at her reflection in the window and smiled. "I guess it looks suitably dominatrixy." She made a mental note to maybe buy some boots to complete the outfit. Then she did one last twirl to inspect her reflection before heading off in the direction of the bedroom where Sarah would be waiting. Padding barefoot to the bedroom door, Nikki stopped and listened. She could hear a soft, crinkling sound coming from the other side of the door. Standing quietly outside the door, Nikki waited for Sarah to finish putting on her diaper. Once the noise ceased there was the soft creak of somebody standing up from the bed. Nikki smiled to herself and waited for another minute or two, knowing that the time would seem much longer for Sarah. Suddenly, Nikki had an idea. She tip-toed back down the hallway and returned with a couple of scarves. Taking a deep breath and straightening her back, Nikki opened the door and entered the bedroom. The bedroom was lit by sunlight filtered through white curtains. There was a large bed with a thick duvet that was pushed to the side, a wardrobe big enough to be a portal to Narnia and an armchair where Sarah had placed her neatly folded clothes. Standing next to the bed was Sarah. As soon as Nikki opened the door she stopped fidgeting and lowered her eyes. Nikki took in the sight of her: The long auburn hair, the perfectly shaped breasts topped with nipples that perked up from the slight draught from the open door and the slightly tanned skin contrasting with the puffy white plastic of the diaper. "Aww, don't you look adorable," Nikki said. She walked around Sarah, letting her hand slide up Sarah's thigh, across the smooth plastic covering her butt and up her side to her left breast. Sarah blushed furiously. Nikki put a finger under Sarah's chin and lifted it to look into her eyes. "I just paid you a compliment. What do you say?" Sarah blushed even harder, turning almost pink. "Thank you Ma'am," she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Good girl." Nikki walked around Sarah and used one of the scarves to tie her wrists behind her back. The knot wasn't very secure and Sarah could probably get loose in less than half a minute, but that wasn't the point. It was just a physical reminder for Sarah that she wasn't in control. Next, Nikki folded the other scarf double and threaded the two ends through the loop. She placed the makeshift noose around Sarah's neck, lifting her hair through before pulling it tight. Tugging the makeshift leash gently, Nikki led Sarah to the wardrobe to stand in front of the mirror on the door. "What do you see?" Nikki asked as she stood next to Sarah, slipping her arm around her waist and snuggling closer. "You and me," Sarah answered, a little confused. "Yes, and what are we wearing?" "Well, you're wearing your clothes," Sarah said, not really sure where the conversation was headed. "And I'm wearing... you know. " She wiggled her hips. "You're wearing your diapers," Nikki said matter-of-factly. "You might as well get used to saying it. So what are you wearing?" "I'm wearing diapers," Sarah said quietly. Nikki gave one of Sarah's nipples a quick flick, causing her to jump. "Pay attention sweetie. They're not just diapers, they are your diapers. So what are you wearing?" "I'm wearing my diapers, Ma'am," Sarah said, clearly emphasizing the pronoun. "Good girl," Nikki said and leaned in to kiss the nipple better. "And why are you wearing your diapers? Sarah hesitated. "Because I like the way they make me feel safe?" Nikki shook her head. "Because I'm a big baby?" Sarah asked uncertainly "Do you look like a baby?" Nikki asked back, cupping one of Sarah's breasts for emphasis. "No Ma'am." Sarah thought for a few seconds, trying to find another answer. "I don't know Ma'am. Why am I wearing my diapers?" "Isn't it obvious sweetie? You're wearing them because I want you to wear them. Whether you want to wear them or not doesn't matter." Nikki tugged the scarf down, making Sarah kneel in front of her. "When we're doing this, your will is irrelevant. You will do what I want, when I want it, how I want it. Is that clear?" Seeing Sarah's surprised expression, she added a quick, reassuring wink. Sarah played along and lowered her eyes demurely. "Yes Ma'am." "Good. Now come along." Nikki tugged the scarf gently and led Sarah back to the living room. ~~~ Nikki led Sarah to the sofa and sat down with her legs spread wide. She patted the cushion between her legs and Sarah obediently sat down, leaning back and trapping her own arms between the two of them. Nikki slipped her legs over Sarah's thighs, spreading them, and wrapping her arms around her waist. "Before we continue, I think we should take a little time-out and agree on some ground rules, " Nikki said as she nuzzled Sarah's neck. "Really? Now?" Sarah wiggled closer. "Yeah. Just so we don't have any misunderstandings." Sarah nodded, her hair tickling Nikki's nose. "I propose that as long as you wear a collar, you have to do as you're told. And also, we agree in advance how long you'll wear the collar. Does that sound OK?" "And is this my collar?" Sarah asked, nodding towards the scarf that was still around her neck. "It'll have to do for today. We'll have to drop by a pet store and get you a proper one later." Sarah gulped and felt the beginnings of yet another blush at the prospect of shopping for collars. "And one last thing: A safeword. If things go further than you want, you say it and we stop. Straight away. Do you understand?" "Even if we're in the middle of... you know." Nikki chuckled. "Sweetie, you're sitting between my legs wearing nothing but a diaper and a scarf. I think you should be able to to say 'sex' out loud. And yes, no matter what we're doing; if you say the safeword, we stop." "So what is it then? I'm guessing it's not 'no' or 'stop'. Oh God, please don't tell me it's 'Kraftfahrzeug-Haftpflichtversicherung'." "Kraftfarwhatdidyousaynow?!?" "It's German for car insurance." Sarah giggled mischievously and wiggled her fingers behind her back, making Nikki jump. "Teacher humour." Nikki groaned and rolled her eyes. "No, I think it should be a bit simpler than that. How about Mongolia? Short, easy to remember and not likely to come up in casual conversation." "Got it. Mongolia. Oh crap, that didn't count," "I know sweetie." Nikki slid a hand down to rest on the white plastic covering Sarah's diaper. "So? Ready to get started again?" "Mmm, yes Ma'am." "Then you're mine, my prrrrrrrecious." Nikki attacked Sarah's neck, determined to leave a hickey. After inspecting her handiwork, Nikki just sat back, absentmindedly stroking Sarah's diaper.. "Do you know what I feel like right now?" "No Ma'am." "A drink. Would you fetch me a glass of water?" Nikki lifted her legs off Sarah's and undid the scarf tying her hands behind her back. "A big one.." Sarah sighed with frustration and got up. "And no playing with yourself in the kitchen," Nikki said a little more loudly than necessary. Sarah hated to admit it, but the short walk to the kitchen and back actually turned her on. Being ordered to walk around wearing just the diaper was completely different from sneaking around alone in her own apartment, terrified somebody with x-ray vision would see through the walls and her clothes and notice the diaper she hid underneath. It moved differently when she didn't have other clothes on, With every step, it felt like it was both cupping her crotch and stroking it. The two dozen steps from the sofa, to the kitchen and back again were enough for cause a pleasant tingle in Sarah "Kneel." Nikki pointed to the floor in front of her. Sarah knelt and gave her the glass of water. Nikki smiled and took a sip before giving it back to Sarah. "Drink up sweetie. We wouldn't want you to become dehydrated." "But I'm not thirsty." "Oh shush. Now be a good girl and do as you're told." Sarah began to drink, and whenever she lowered the large glass, Nikki would reach out and lift the bottom of the glass with a single finger. When she finally finished, Sarah was slightly out of breath. Nikki took the glass and placed it on the table. "OK. Stand up and turn around." As she got up, Sarah could almost feel the water sloshing around inside her. Nikki quickly retied her hands behind her back again. "Good, now sit down." Nikki patted the sofa between her legs. Sarah sat down gingerly and leaned back against Nikki who spread Sarah's legs with her own just like before. "And now we just sit back and relax." Nikki began to stroke Sarah's stomach. It didn't take long for Sarah to begin fidgeting. "What is it?" Nikki asked, knowing full well what the answer was. "Ma'am, I have to go to the bathroom." "No you don't," Nikki stated matter-of-factly. "Yes, I really do," Sarah whined. "What are you wearing?" Sarah blanched as she realised what Nikki meant. "You're not serious. You want me to wet myself?" She tried to turn around, but Nikki's legs held her in place. "Sweetie, you've worn diapers for how long, years? And never used them, right?" "Mm-hmm," Sarah nodded. "Not even once?" "No." "That settles it then. You're doing it once to find out what it's like and that's that. Besides, it's not like you have any say in the matter." Nikki gave the scarf around Sarah's neck a little tug to remind her of her situation. "So, what are you going to do?" Sarah sighed. "I'm going to..." she began hesitantly. She took a breath, steeling herself. "I'm going to wet my diaper." Nikki cleared her throat. "Ma'am," Sarah added quickly. "I'm going to wet my diaper, Ma'am." The sentence seemed to physically drain her of tension. She sank back against Nikki Sarah was quiet for maybe a minute, then she let her head sink down and sighed. " I can't do it," she said. "I just can't." "Sure you can. You just have to relax and let go of your need to be in control. Even something like this is no longer under your control." Nikki resumed massaging Sarah's stomach, sliding her hands up and down. Sarah began wiggling as the pressure on her bladder increased. She knew that there was no way that the big glass of water she had just drunk could have made its way through her body in just five minutes, but it seemed like the body didn't care what the brain knew. So much for mind over matter. Sarah groaned. "Shhh. It's OK," Nikki murmured soothingly and let one of her hands slide lower to stroke Sarah's diaper. "Just let it go. Let it go." "If you start singing that song, I'm going to scream." Nikki continued stroking and whispering encouragingly until suddenly, Sarah stopped in mid-groan and let out a little whimper. Nikki could feel the muscles in her buttocks and stomach start twitching and she kept rubbing the diaper as she felt the plastic quickly grow warmer. Nikki looked at Sarah and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. She stopped immediately. "What's wrong sweetie," she asked, suddenly worried. "You're gonna think I'm a fucking freak," Sarah said between sobs. "Why?" Nikki said, confusion mixing with her worry. "I'm sitting here in my living room, pissing myself." "And I'm sorry about that. I went too far." Nikki said, almost crying too. "No Ma'am," Sarah started. "I think we can stop with the 'Ma'am' now," Nikki interrupted, hoping she hadn't ruined their newfound relationship. "No Ma'am, you don't understand. I liked it. I sat here pissing my diaper and I loved it." "Huh?" Nikki said, going temporarily non-verbal. "I can't be normal for liking that," Sarah said with sniffle. Nikki's brain finally shifted back into gear and she knew exactly what to say. "You're not a freak. You're a very good girl who does what her mistress tells her to do. And even if you were a freak, which you're not, you're my freak and I love you." Sarah took advantage of Nikki no longer holding her legs and turned to kiss her. "I've never felt so helpless and safe at the same time Ma'am. It was wonderful." Nikki smiled. "I'm glad you liked it, but I think we need to have a longer conversation about dos and don'ts before we have another play session, don't you agree." "I suppose," Sarah said reluctantly. "But before we do that, let's get you cleaned up and into something dry." Nikki slid out from behind Sarah and got up from the sofa. " Are you coming?" she asked, grabbing the scarf and giving it a slight tug. "I certainly hope so Ma'am." Sarah said with a grin as she waddled after Nikki towards the bathroom.

Chapter 4 is now live on my Patreon (www.patreon.com/backtobabyhood) with Chapter 5 set to be released shortly. Any support you can offer makes a real difference - it gives me the freedom to spend more time writing and motivates me to keep going so if you enjoy what I'm writing and want to see more then please consider having a look at my Patreon page and subscribing if you can. Thank you very much x ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Three - Visit to the Park Jamie was feeling nervous as he walked through the park with Leo. He had secretly put on a diaper under his clothes before leaving the house, and he could feel the bulky bulge between his legs as he walked. He had decided not to wear his plastic pants because they were noisy and he was worried that the rustling might expose his babyish secret. He didn't want anyone to see him, especially not his school teacher who happened to be walking in the park at the same time. In an attempt to avoid her, he grabbed Jamie’s hand and began walking quickly in the direction of the children’s playground and towards Leo’s favourite spot, the sandbox that was full of toddlers around his age. Leo was soon having a great time playing in the sandbox, while Jamie sat on the bench to the side. He wished he could join in, but knew that it would look suspicious if he started playing in the sandbox like a toddler and that it would be more likely for his diapered bottom to be exposed to all of the adults watching their children. So he sat on the side, waiting patiently. As the minutes ticked by, Jamie started to feel a strong urge to go to the bathroom. Having worn diapers for the entire summer, he had become accustomed to wetting them whenever he needed to go. In the beginning, it had been difficult for him to pee in a diaper and he had to force himself to let go, but now it had become almost automatic to wet the diaper whenever he felt the slightest urge to pee. It wouldn’t be easy to remove his diaper so there was no chance of him being able to run off to some bushes nearby and the nearest restroom was a five minute walk and he couldn’t possibly leave Leo on his own in case anything happened. He sat there contemplating his options. If he wet the diaper then he was worried that someone he knew might see him and he would be outed as a diaper wearing baby, who still had to wear diapers and the bulge around his crotch would probably be even more obvious after he had wet himself. On the other hand, he was wearing diapers for a reason and they were designed for exactly this reason. They were meant to prevent accidents and keep his pants dry. He had become so resigned to wearing diapers and acting like a toddler with Leo that he had almost convinced himself that he belonged in them. He was also secretly quite turned on by the prospect of wetting himself in public because it would be a very babyish thing to do and the thrill of wearing a wet diaper, without anyone else knowing, was quite exciting. He continued to consider the pros and cons of the various options open to him. The likelihood of seeing anyone he knew was very slim and if he did see anyone then they were not likely to be looking at his crotch anyway so he reasoned that there was little prospect of being found out and he may as well as use the diaper for its intended purpose. It soon became apparent that the choice was going to be taken out of Jamie’s hands anyway. It was too late, his body had made the decision for him. He couldn’t hold the pressure any longer and without warning, he felt a warm wetness spreading across the front of the diaper. He panicked, as he realised that there was no way for him to stop himself wetting the diaper. Jamie was shocked at how quickly it had all happened. He knew that he had become more accustomed to using his diaper in recent weeks but he didn’t realise that it had become an automatic reaction for his body to use the diaper, without waiting for his instruction. It was quite scary that his control had weakened so much, in such a short space of time, especially given that he knew that he wouldn’t always be able to rely upon the security of wearing a diaper to save him. He felt a twinge of embarrassment as he finished soaking his diaper. He looked around nervously to see if anyone was looking at him but was relieved to see that everyone in the playground was happily playing and distracted by their own little ones. He signed with relief as he finished emptying the final streams of urine, and felt the pressure from his bladder lift while the warm feeling around his crotch spread. It was already evident to Jamie that the diaper was a lot heavier than it was a few moments ago. He knew that he had absolutely soaked it. He discreetly moved his hand down towards his crotch and prodded the diaper to assess how full it was. He soon realised that there was a reason why Leo wore plastic pants with his cloth diaper. Jamie had always worn his plastic pants at home which had prevented leaks but the plan to leave them at home to reduce the chance of his secret diaper wearing being discovered had spectacularly backfired. Without the protection of the plastic pants, Jamie had wet through the diaper and it had not held all of the pee. He could feel wet patches forming at either side of his crotch. He panicked, wondering what to do. He couldn't go home like this, but he couldn't exactly change his diaper in the park either. To decide on his next course of action, he knew that he needed to find out how bad the problem was. He carefully lifted his bottom off from the bench in order to make a more informed assessment of the damage. His worst fears were confirmed when he felt pee start trickling down his legs. His eyes widened in panic and his heart began to race as he realised the severity of the situation he was in. Hazel had told him earlier that she would be back from work a bit earlier than normal so the option to wait until it got dark or the park got quieter was off the table too because he wouldn’t be home in time and had left evidence of his diaper wearing on display which he needed to clear up before she arrived home. He was resigned that there was no way that he could make it out of the playground without noticing and reasoned that it would be best to make a quick exit and pray for the best. Jamie nervously stood up and called for Leo to come over. He tried to be as subtle as possible, hoping that no one had noticed the wet patch on the front of his diaper. He also positioned his hands over the front of his crotch in an attempt to reduce the risk of someone seeing what had happened. "Come on Leo, we have to go home now," Jamie said, trying to keep his voice steady. Leo looked up at him with a confused expression and shook his head side to side. "Nooo…. I play." Leo muttered with a sad face. "I know you want to stay, buddy, but we have to go home now. We can play in the sand box at home and I’ll make your favourite thing…. Jelly and Ice Cream.” Jamie was desperate to avoid a tantrum and was prepared to promise anything to avoid Leo drawing attention to them. “No….” Leo stubbornly refused, as he started to stomp his feet and make a bit of a scene, leading to some of the other parents looking over at them. “Please Leo…. I really need you to come with me now. Pretty please…” Leo only spoke a few words, which often made little sense to anyone else but he was strong-minded and it was difficult to change his mind once he had made a decision. Jamie stood there patiently, praying that Leo would back down and follow him quietly out of the playground so that they could make it home. After a brief pause and the threat of a full blown temper tantrum, Leo relented and took Jamie’s hand to signal that he reluctantly was prepared to go home. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief as he had navigated the first stage of his escape plan and had renewed optimism that he might be able to make it back without being found out. But that optimism quickly turned to despair when he turned to leave with Leo and found himself face to face with his school teacher, Mrs. Jenkins. "Hello Jamie," Mrs. Jenkins said with a warm smile. "How have you been enjoying your summer holidays?" Jamie swallowed hard, trying to think of a response. "It's been good, Mrs. Jenkins. Just been babysitting Leo today. He was playing in the sandbox over there." Jamie gestured towards the sandbox, where lots of toddlers were shouting and busily shovelling sand from one bucket to another. Mrs. Jenkins nodded. "I see. Well, it's good to keep busy during the summer. And how is Leo doing?" "He's doing well," Jamie said, trying to keep the conversation short. "But we really need to get going. I have to change his diaper." Leo looked surprised at this accusation. “I…. not….accident” Leo’s denial may have been incoherent to some, but it was clear to Mrs. Jenkins and Jamie that he was protesting the allegation that he needed a diaper change. Jamie was becoming increasingly concerned that he was about to be found out. Mrs. Jenkins raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure everything is alright? You seem a bit flustered" Jamie's face turned red with embarrassment. "Y-yes, everything is fine. It's just that, um, Leo had an accident so I need to get him back and I have to get back too." Leo was clearly angry at Jamie’s incorrect allegation and repeated his defence passionately. “I…. not… accident… you” Jamie's face turned increasingly red. He was worried that Leo had identified the issue and was about to expose him so he interrupted the toddler. “Leo, that’s enough.” He could tell that Mrs. Jenkins was suspicious and maybe even a bit concerned. He needed to urgently find a way out of this situation and decided that there was only way to stop Leo revealing his secret. He turned away from Mrs. Jenkins in the direction of Leo, bent his knees and proceeded to lift the toddler into his arms. Jamie concluded that it was going to be the quickest way to get out of the playground and get home. He also hoped that holding Leo would help hide his problem! What Jamie didn’t realise is that he had exposed his diaper and accident to a shocked Mrs. Jenkins when he bent over to pick up Leo. His underwear was supposed to hide the diaper but had slipped down at the same time that his jumper rode up, unmistakably revealing the top of the diaper. In fact, it was even worse than that for Jamie because he had also exposed his bottom to Mrs. Jenkins, giving her a clear view of the wet patches that had formed at the sides of his crotch. There was no room for doubt, she had seen that Jamie was wearing a diaper, a wet diaper!

The latest chapter of The French Exchange is now live on my Patreon (www.patreon.com/backtobabyhood). Any support you can offer makes a real difference - it gives me the freedom to spend more time writing and motivates me to keep going so if you enjoy what I'm writing and want to see more then please consider having a look at my Patreon page and subscribing if you can. Thank you very much x ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 17 Will was overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions as he watched Phoebe walk away into the distance. He couldn't believe the sheer embarrassment and humiliation he had just experienced in front of his school crush. It was as if his worst nightmare had just come true. He had always been different from most boys his age. While others seemed to be constantly talking about girls and chasing after relationships, he had never felt that same drive. But Phoebe was different… For Will, Phoebe was more than just a crush - she was the first and only girl he had ever felt drawn to. Being a bit of a nerdy kid, he didn't know much about girls, but there was something that made him want to get to know Phoebe better. In recent months, he had often daydreamed about what it would be like to be with her, share his interests, talk, and laugh with her. But the truth was that he knew the chances of a relationship, even a friendship, were slim. She was one of the coolest girls in school, with a group of friends that everyone wanted to be a part of, while he was just a shy and nerdy boy, barely noticeable in the background. It didn't help that Will was painfully aware of his social awkwardness around girls. He had never been in a relationship before, and he didn't know the first thing about how to talk to girls or how to flirt with them. Now, any glimmer of hope he had was gone, given what had just happened. He had utterly ruined any chance of being with her. How could he ever expect someone like her to be with someone like him, someone who still had to wear nappies like a little kid? Phoebe's kindness had struck a chord deep within him, and her empathy had only served to deepen his feelings for her. As he was lost in thought, Guillaume's tap on his shoulder jolted him back to reality. It was time to leave, but he couldn't shake off the whirlwind of emotions raging within him. Despite the bustle of people around, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Phoebe, and he felt a heavy weight on his chest as he walked out of the building. With each step, Will's discomfort grew as he trudged back to the car with his host family. The wet nappy clung to his legs, chafing his skin and making it hard to walk normally. He felt like he was waddling like a baby, and he was thankful that the darkness concealed the embarrassing state of his nappy, which was now leaking at the sides. As they walked, Will tried his best to blend in and avoid drawing any attention to himself, but he couldn't help but notice the curious glances that Audrey was casting his way. Had she spotted the leak? Did she know that he was wet again? Finally, they reached the car, and Will breathed a sigh of relief. The wet nappy was beginning to rub against his skin, and he was eager to get it out of it as soon as possible. Suddenly, and without any prior warning, Audrey prodded the front of Will’s nappy, which confirmed her suspicion that it was wet. Will couldn't help but feel like Audrey was treating him like a helpless infant. Instead of asking him if he needed a nappy change, she had just checked for herself, as one would do with a baby. It was as if she thought he couldn't even tell if his nappy was wet or dry, which was ridiculous since he was a teenager, not a baby! "Attendez ici pendant que je vous procure une nouvelle couche fraîche." Will, who was used to obeying his own mother's orders, stayed put as Audrey instructed him to do so. While he waited, Audrey rummaged through the car boot and returned with two nappies in her hand, leaving Will confused. He guessed that one was for him, but he couldn’t work out who the second nappy was for. Was Audrey going to make him wear two nappies for extra protection against leaks? As Audrey held his hand and led him towards the backseat, Will couldn't shake off the feeling of being exposed and powerless. He was at the complete mercy of Audrey's decisions. Surely she didn't plan on changing his nappy in public, right there in the backseat of the car as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Even with the cover of darkness, Will couldn't shake off the feeling that passersby could still see what was happening, which only added to the humiliation of the situation. "Prenons une nouvelle couche, d'accord?" Audrey was clearly experienced at this, and undid the tabs of Will's nappy, pulled down his shorts, and took off his shoes with impressive speed. As she removed the damp nappy from his skin, Will felt a sense of vulnerability and exposure. He tried to cover himself with his hands, but Audrey paid no attention to his request for dignity, brushing his hand aside as she continued with the task. Will lay there with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, desperately wishing that the situation would end soon. He tried to block out the sounds of the rustling plastic and the gentle swishing of the wipes, but the coolness of the air against his bare skin kept bringing him back to the reality of the moment. He felt like he was trapped, unable to escape the experience. Audrey completed cleaning him up and fastened the new nappy around his waist, giving a gentle pat on his bottom to signal that the job was done. As the sound of the nappy crinkling filled the air, Will couldn't help but feel humiliation at the reminder of his current state. Audrey inspected Will's wet shorts with a critical eye, frowning in disapproval. They were definitely not in a fit state for him to wear them. She paused for a moment, thinking about what to do next. She directed Will to stand up and wait by the side of the car, pointing to the spot where she wanted him. Will's heart sank as he realised he would be in public in just a nappy. He protested weakly, but Audrey just turned her back, ignoring his murmurs which made little sense in English, let alone French! Feeling like a helpless infant scolded by his mother, Will obediently waited, dressed only in a t-shirt and nappy. He couldn't help but worry about being seen in such a state by others. His concerns were well-founded. As he stood there, a family walked past, leaving Will like a rabbit in the headlights… The young boy looked at Will in astonishment, his eyes widening at the sight of the teenager wearing a nappy. The boy turned to his mother and asked: "Est-ce que je devrai encore porter des couches quand je serai aussi grand que lui?" His mother responded emphatically, "Non!" As the conversation continued between the young French boy and his mother, Will felt his heart pounding in his chest. He stood frozen, unable to understand what was being said, feeling a sense of unease wash over him. Meanwhile, Audrey had shifted her attention to Karim, seemingly unaware of the family passing by. "Karim, viens ici s'il te plaît. On va te mettre une couche," Audrey asked. "Bien sûr, maman. Je suis prêt," replied Karim, without hesitation. "Oh, une dernière chose. Les shorts de Will sont mouillés, et il fait chaud ce soir. Est-ce que tu peux lui donner les tiens pour qu'il rentre chez lui?" "Aucun problème, maman. Je ne les utilise pas," said Karim, with a smile on his face. Audrey removed Karim's shorts and passed them to Will, who gratefully pulled them up. He felt a sense of relief as they covered his nappy, and no longer so exposed. Will gaped in amazement as Karim, sporting a wide grin, eagerly settled onto the back seat and awaited his mother's attention. Audrey wasted no time and proceeded to remove Karim's underwear, while Will tried his best to avoid looking. After cleaning Karim with a wet wipe, Audrey slid a fresh nappy underneath him and applied baby powder. Once she secured the tapes, Karim stood up as instructed without any hesitation, wearing nothing but a nappy and a T-shirt. Will observed with curiosity. He couldn't understand why someone of Karim’s age would be happy wearing just a nappy, but he seemed carefree and content, as if he didn't care about what others thought of him. It was a personality trait that Will admired, as he was always worried about others' opinions but for the time being, all he wanted was to return home, forget about tonight and get back into his normal clothes. Guillaume and Karim were exhausted, and within minutes of setting off in the car, they had both fallen asleep. Louis and Audrey engaged in a brief conversation before the car fell silent for the remainder of the journey home. Will, who was sitting in the backseat, stared out of the window, his mind clouded with a mix of emotions - anger, embarrassment, and confusion -all at once. He had replayed the conversation with Phoebe over and over in his head and even though he hoped that he could trust her, he did worry that she might betray her promise not to tell anyone. He didn’t know what he would do, if all of his classmates found out what had happened. His life would be over. As the car continued to glide down the road, Will could hear a faint trickling noise. At first, he couldn't pinpoint where the sound was coming from, but as it grew louder, he realised it was coming from right next to him. Will's eyes widened in surprise as he watched Karim wetting his nappy. The sound of the pee hitting the padding was a soft hissing noise that seemed to last forever. The front of the nappy became visibly wet and began to turn yellow. Will couldn't believe what he was seeing, and for a moment, he was frozen in shock. As he stared curiously, he was surprised when Karim opened his eyes and turned to Will with a smile on his face. He didn’t seem upset about what had happened. In fact, he almost seemed proud. Unsure how to respond, Will gently smiled back at the boy. He then turned his head away and returned to looking out of the window. He was intrigued by Karim and his situation. Didn’t he mind that he was wearing nappies at his age? Wasn’t he embarrassed?

I like them. I don't wear them often....not often enough really....but I do like them. Actually....I like most everything Rearz puts out if I'm honest.

Charlotte’s trying her best to be a good mommy, she’s just very new to it. Maybe we will see what happens when new mommies make too many mistakes. That’s what happens when you have an evil mastermind as a stepsister, she’s the director of this play, and Kay is learning more and more about his role. Thanks for the comments! Thanks for reading! …………….. Recessive 6 In ironic fashion, it was his stepmom who saved him. Yes, the new and improved Debbie was the one to pull the girls out of the living room, providing safe passage for Kaleb to leave. Somehow he had made it through the evening without his Amazon peers noticing his pull-up — a victory in itself. There wasn’t much of an argument from the girls, however. They had wanted to hang out in a more ‘private’ location anyways. It seemed that after Callie’s diaper change, they had lost interest in him, as if the invisible sponge had been wrung dry, and Kaleb could not have been more thankful. Unfortunately, that was the extent of his good news. Before their guests could leave, Layla had come up a silly idea that they should spend the night. Kaleb didn’t need to guess what was going to happen next: They had agreed to a sleepover before he could get up from the couch. His cruddy evening will be an even worse morning, Kaleb was sure of it. He was now in his parent’s room, since Debbie was still in the process of cleaning his own. Kaleb sat on their Big bed, using a huge comforter to cover his research-based DP while he watched her fold his clean clothes into small piles before putting them in a laundry basket. His parent’s bedroom was always Debbie’s domain, as clued by the decorative fluffy pillows, artsy duvets, and the delightful tones of copious candles and sprayable scents straight from the spa. There were family photos on the wall, group shots of three smiling Bigs and their embarrassed Betweener. Damn, he looked so awkward; like an unwanted add-on, an extra thumb with a goofy smile, an unnecessary idiot to a perfect family. Alright, time to think about something else besides how much he didn’t belong here. Nothing else came to mind, there were only feelings bouncing around inside his head, the most persistent were his feelings on the room. There was something naughty about lounging in his stepmom’s personal space. It was a strange internal sensation, one that tugged at him like he tugged the blanket over his pull-up. It made him think of things: soft things, nurturing things. That diaper change. The bottle feeding canoe dream. All of it gave him the willies, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. While his stepmom worked, Kaleb busied himself by trying to make sure that all of his clothing ended up back in his closet. This was his new priority number one. He’d heard horror stories of total wardrobe ‘switch-a-roos’, and he thought it best to keep an eye on things: especially on Debbie. As he watched her, he thought about even stranger feelings. Something about his stepmom was different, something invisible to the eye, like the spongy energy had cast a behavior altering spell that circled the entire household, making everyone act differently. It was magical. It was weird. It hid in the pockets of her apron next to the diapers, it was wrapped in the strands of his stepmom’s long hair, it was behind the toothy smile and roaming hands of Beckie, it was stuck to the sides of his head like the electrodes. “We need to talk about the girls spending the night.” Debbie neatly placed a folded shirt into the waiting plastic basket. “I don’t want you sneaking off to their room, I don’t want you spying on them, or being a creep.” “You don’t have to worry about that,” Kaleb said as he leaned forward on the bed. “Trust me, the last place I’d want to be is in the same room as Beckie.” “Oooh… Beckie is it?” teased Debbie. Kaleb decided he should do what he learned to do along time ago — keep his mouth shut around his stepmother. Still, something bothered him about this hastily decided slumber party, like a nagging whisper against the back of his neck; and he couldn’t quite figure it out what the hushed voice was trying to say, so he kept talking. “Does that mean that Callie is going to spend the night?” “Yes…” his stepmom raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Little. “She’s with her new mommy - why do you ask?” “I don’t know,” Kaleb offered with a shrug. “Where is she going to sleep? It’s not like we have a crib or a nursery or anything.” “In the living room,” answered Debbie, she carefully examined the inside of one of his boxer briefs before adding them to the rest of his clothes. “We’re using an old playpen that has the right safety features for Littles. Locks and things so Callie doesn’t get into any trouble. The girls think it’s a little ‘too old’. Charlotte complained about it, even Layla got on my case, but I think it’s going to work perfectly fine. The old pen is not as nice as the new ones, but you’d be surprised at what experience has to offer little ones.” Kaleb nodded along like he cared. “So where are Charlotte and Beckie sleeping?” “They’re going to be with Layla, in her room right across from yours.” Debbie crossed her arms and gave him one of those ‘looks’. “Somebody’s got a lot of questions, what is it that you really want to know? Are you jealous of the attention Callie is getting?” “No, no.” Kaleb retreated from the insinuation. “I’m just curious… that’s all.” “Well, it’s getting a bit late for curiosity,” Debbie hummed with a knowing chuckle. “Time for your pajamas, then we can go to bed.” “Pajamas?” Kaleb couldn’t believe his ears. “What pajamas?” His stepmom stopped folding his laundry for a moment. “You mean that Layla didn’t tell you?” “Tell me what?” This wasn’t looking good, not one bit. “Well, try to remember that these are your sister’s words and not mine…” Debbie then cleared her throat, before she pulled out a folded piece of paper from her apron, and recited obvious ‘textbook talk’. “During the Cushioning test, it is important to maintain the experiment in every aspect: keeping true to all constants and limit every variable possible, anything that can throw off the score should not even be considered.” “You sound a lot like Layla,” observed Kaleb. “What are you really trying to get at? I hate the way she sounds like school.” Debbie appeared pleased at the ‘compliment’ on sounding like her younger clone. “You’re going to have to wear the detector- protector all night.” Debbie looked him straight in eyes as shared the news with him. “Same with the wave readers.” So he was going to have to wear the DP all night (he figured that much), and the electrodes on the sides of his head (he also figured). His stepmom’s bad news didn’t bother him because he was expecting it to rear its ugly head. That’s the thing with living with Amazons, it kept him on his toes for so long that he was building callouses like a ballerina, or ‘ballerino’, or whatever the boy variety is called. Then there was the aforementioned pajamas. “That’s why you’re also going to need to wear Little proof pajamas,” continued Debbie. “So you can’t accidentally tamper with the DP and ruin the …” “Little proof pajamas!” exclaimed Kaleb. No, the mental callouses on his figurative toes weren’t thick enough for that garbage. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Kaleb yelled at his stepmom, his words were probably heard through the walls. “I’m not going to fiddle with the stupid test! Why can’t you trust me?” “There are rules,” answered Debbie jovially. “It’s not that we don’t trust you — it’s the rules. And rules are rules. Did I mention that it’s the rules?” Why, oh why, why, why did he sign up for this stupid test? Kaleb slapped himself in the forehead with both hands and raked them slowly down his face. Little proof pajamas were just like Little proof tapes in a diaper, a wearable lock where only Amazons owned the keys. Right now, he was in a DP, his toileting was under his control. He had already gotten up and peed in the oversized toilet twice that afternoon, once before and after their surprise visitors. Just yank them down and do the tinkling, easy as pie. If he wore anything “Little proof”, that liberty was out of his hands, and he would be begging for release just like stroller-strapped baby Callie. He sniffled a bit, found his backbone, and made himself taller on his stepmother’s bed. “What if I say that I’m not going to wear them?” “You don’t have a choice,” Debbie replied matter of factly. “Rules, honey.” “Well… I don’t care what the rules are, I’m not going to be tricked into putting on anything I can’t take off.” Kaleb got up from the bed and was on his way to his room, where he’d tuck away for the rest of the night and deal with the consequences for the following morning. Whatever his punishment was, it would would most likely be better than being locked away in a onesie or footie or nightie or whatever scientific cruelty they had planned for him. Now, if he could just sneak by Debbie as she finished up the laundry… “Night time diaper,” Debbie said firmly. The Diaper-word brought Kaleb to a sudden halt. He obviously didn’t hear her right, so he cocked his head her direction. “You go out that door,” growled his stepmom, “and you’ll end up in a night time diaper, the very thick kind, with Little proof tapes.” Kaleb burned hot. “No way…” His stepmom made eye contact to drive it home, like the final spiking of a railroad tie, it rang in his ears and kept him in place. “And…” Debbie was really enjoying the her power of him now. “I’ll do it in front of the girls, maybe let Beckie pick out the diaper, she has good taste in Littles.” Oh, the insinuation. It dripped from every word and thought and collected in a puddle inside his brain. There was a reason Debbie was being so uncharacteristically nice to him, so he’d be nice right back, and be a good little boy. But like all things, the affection was just another lie. Kaleb asked, “Are you serious?” “No, silly, I’m not serious,” Debbie said gleefully. “I’m your mommy.” Everything changed then. He was no longer in control, it had somehow slipped his grasp, and he was just finding out about it. Suddenly, the white paneled door from the bedroom to the hall felt so far away, same with the safety of his room. The tiny house full of Bigs became bigger as the space became tinier. No, it didn’t make sense, but neither did his agreement to be a part of this Cushioning test. Kaleb closed his eyes and resigned himself back into the hands of the experiment. Why was he even considering continuing the experiment? There had to be a way out. The self-imprisoning pajamas felt like a step too far — and still, he stood in his spot, and it wasn’t just his stepmom’s well-timed threat that froze his feet to the floor. This spongy magic energy was changing him as well, he no longer wanted to put up any fight, he just wanted it all to be done. What was the way Layla said it? “One way or another”. Sheesh, that was dark, but it was how he felt. Before the Cushioning test, Kaleb would have made a brave stand for his dignity, but he was tired of standing, so he lifelessly flopped to the carpet, waving the white flag before a shot was even fired. “Fine, fine.” His voice sounded tired and not his own. “Bring on the pajamas.” …. “Now, Kay-Kay, it’s very important to answer truthfully,” Layla said as she stifled yet another girly giggle. “How does wearing the pajamas make you feel?” Kaleb managed a wary expression. “How do you think?” His stepsister was already dressed for bed, she was still pretty without makeup. Gone was the red cheerleading outfit, replaced by a long gray shirt that hung loose over her body. Also, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Kaleb had tried not to notice, but Amazons were extra-bosomy, so he noticed. There were athletic shorts underneath, short enough to hide under the long shirt and show off a whole lot of leg. That’s what she got to wear to bed. As for Kaleb, he didn’t get off so easily. How was he supposed to know that the special research pajamas was actually a monkey footie? Yes, monkey. And footie. The body hugging fabric went down his legs and over his feet. The PJs were tan and brown in color, had a hood that went over the head, with a pair of half circle ‘ears’ atop the hood, and a zipper than ran down the back. There were a semi circle of snaps that ran along his inner thighs that he didn’t even want to think about. It even had a cute curly monkey tail on the butt. Death was an easier out than these pajamas. “Use your words, Kay-Kay. We need to cross reference your feelings from the wave readers to study your verbal reciprocity levels, that’s why we’re doing this interview.” “Are you sure about that?” Kaleb looked at his footie-covered chest, arms and legs. “I thought it was so you could humiliate me and document the results.” “So you feel… humiliated?” Her searching eyes flashed like sharp teeth. “Why?” “Why?” Kaleb echoed his stepsis, pointing at his outfit. “I’m dressed like a baby monkey! All that’s missing is the diaper and a banana.” “All that’s missing is a ‘diaper’?” Layla repeated for clarity’s sake. “That’s not what I meant!” Kaleb was really burning hot now. “You know that!” “It’s what you said, Kay-Kay,” Layla replied as she typed furiously on her computer tablet. “I’m just documenting your words and your behavior and your wave readers. You can’t be mad at me for you thinking your thoughts.” Kaleb got up from the floor where they were both criss-cross applesauce. “What’s my thinking thoughts have to do with anything?” “Science is all about data and numbers,” started Layla. “Your numbers… I know shouldn’t even tell you, but since I’m a nice step-sis, I will. Ever since baby Callie came over, your Beta-alpha-beta-upsilon waves have been off the charts. It’s reading like you have Maturosis, Kay-Kay.” He sighed. This was totally expected. 100%. Kaleb took a deep breath, let the air mingle a bit then he let it shoot out of his nose. It was almost calming getting the worst of the news over with; so she wanted him to believe that he had Maturosis — a made up disease brought to life by overzealous, self-righteous Bigs. No big deal. “I’m sure it does, Layla.” “You don’t believe me? Well, then, let me show you how well you’re doing on the Cushioning.” Layla spun the screen around so he could see for himself: Everything, everywhere was in deep crimson, the bar graphs, as well as the pie charts, and there were squiggly lines that exceeded normalized levels. It was all too much for him to look at, so he motioned for Layla to turn the screen away, and she did. “All I’m saying is that if you were in a Little Center, you’d be in very Big trouble. I’m not cheating the test, Kay-Kay. This is making me concerned for your health.” “Oh, I’m sure you’re going to lose sleep tonight,” replied Kaleb with mucho sarcasm intended. Layla exclaimed, “You don’t get it, do you?” “Get what?” Kaleb didn’t get it. “What if you really have Maturosis? Have you given thought to that?” Maturosis? Him? The ‘Maturosis’ hoax was all made up, right? He looked to his stepsister again, she sure didn’t look like she was lying, but Layla was a master manipulator, dishonesty was in her DNA. Something about what she said bothered him, and it wasn’t anything to do with her tests or his diagnosis. It was something else. In the provided silence, Kaleb ran a hand over his hood, between his monkey ears, and across his forehead, lightly touching the cloth covered bumps that were the stickied electrodes. Another hand went down his back, touching the curly monkey tail that shot out from his bottom, and sliding up the long zipper that ran from neck to butt. Then there was the metal snap at the back of his neck. That was the Little proof part of the footsie, not only could he not reach it, the folded metal of the snap was too strong for his Tweener fingers. “Do you remember when this all started?” Kaleb had a gravelly voice that sounded faded and distant. “You were the one that said that you weren’t going to cheat. Did you mean that?” Layla gently put aside the tablet, and ‘scootched’ closer to Kaleb, her shorts covered butt never leaving the carpet. There was a softness in the way she got closer, an intention to give a hug instead of her usual barbs. “I’m not cheating, I swear. Maybe you should consider what I just said. It explains so many things about you. About how you struggle at school and making friends, and your crappy love life, your strained relationship with your mom and dad and my mom. I know it’s a lot, but we can work through it all together. Let’s finish taking the test and see what’s what.” “Do you have any more ‘questions’?” Kaleb tucked his knees to his chest, and yanked back the forming tears with a sharp breath. “I think you need to leave, you got what you came for, didn’t you? You made me feel like garbage, you got your little laughs in, you even made a diaper insinuation. So leave.” Layla uncrossed her legs as she prepared to leave the floor. “Alright, little bro. Just keep in mind what I said about being on your side.” Kaleb scowled at his stepsister, everything felt hot and poisonous on his insides, acid had been bubbling inside him all night, and he opened his mouth to spit his venom. “You’ve never been on my side, Layla.” “Alright..” Layla resigned herself as she rose to her feet. “If that’s what you think, then I’m wasting my time by trying to be nice.” “Good. Great. Wonderful. You waste my time all of the time. You’re a Grade A time waster. This whole weekend is ruined because of you, and your experiment, and your homework.. and… and…” Layla didn’t stick around long enough for him to finish. His stepsister let the door to the hall do the talking as it closed behind her, leaving him to rant for an audience of one, to verbally stir the stew of his thoughts over and over again. After taking a few minutes to collect himself, Kaleb got up to return to his own room. The first thing he saw from the hall was the living room — more importantly, how it had changed. A giant playpen sat where the coffee table used to be. It was bigger than he imagined. The playpen was a mix of white and pastels, the colors slightly faded from age, a mesh wall separated the inside and outside of the cube. Debbie was right about it being old. Inside the four walls that went far above her head, Callie stood in a lily white babydoll nighty that stopped just above the belly, showing off a thick pink night time diaper. Her golden hair tied with white ribbon and into tight pigtails that flopped at the sides of her head. In her tiny mouth, there was a small pacifier, different from the one before, one the Little could remove and not the silencing kind. They both eyed one another in silence. Kaleb didn’t know why he stopped to look at her — wondering just how, and why, and when, and what. He was still deep in thought. Stupid thoughts. Maturosis, him? Maturosis, her? Everything came down to what the Amazons thought, or projected onto the Betweeners and Littles. From her jail-cell playpen, Callie watched him in his brown monkey footie, a puzzled look on her Little face, as he kinda stood just outside the living room. Somehow, she got his attention, because it was elsewhere. Callie motioned him to come closer, both hands grabbing his attention, lulling him closer with her bright eyes. And before he knew it, Kaleb stood next to the playpen, and Callie removed her pacifier to whisper to him. “You’ve got to help me,” Callie said as she eyed Layla’s door back in the hall, her face turned pink as she talked. “Can you undo the latch on the corner of the playpen?” After following her hand, Kaleb noticed the gray plastic latch that sat on the corner of the cube, something he could totally undo, something he wanted to undo. Was it something he should undo? He didn’t know. Kaleb turned to the Little with an eyebrow raised. “Why?” “Why? Why? You’re that stupid? Because it would help me, that’s why.” Callie made her argument sound so simple, and his objections sound so dumb. “Listen, you won’t get in trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about. All I need is one little thing, so I don’t have to.. you know.. defecate myself.” The Little made sense. No one wants to poop themselves, but he wasn’t going to just do what she asked. Kaleb leaned into the railing of the play pen, putting both of his elbows onto the plastic sides. The baby prison was a little big to him as well, up to his head, so he had to stand tall. Kaleb took a moment to give the Little another go-over. After having such a rough night, he welcomed the chance to punch down at someone smaller for once. “You’re still potty trained?” He said with a wry grin. “Not from what I saw earlier. And what about the Little proof tapes?” Callie made a funny face and did something akin to an eye roll. Then she opened her mouth with a wide yawn, before rubbing her sore jaw, a condition from sucking a pacifier for too long. The Little had a haughty expression he hadn’t seen all night, one that was free from the torture of defeat. She locked eyes with him, confident and assured. “I’ll worry about the Little proof diaper tapes, you just take care of the lock.” “It’s still a ‘No’ from me,” said Kaleb. “I figured…” Callie said with a shrug, then she leveled her gaze. “I guess that’s why they push you around, you’re weak and stupid.” Kaleb glared at her. “Excuse me?” “You heard me, monkey-boy. You just do what they tell you. You’re just like a puppet. Or a plaything. Or a goo-goo gaa-gaa baby.” “Don’t you dare call me that,” he growled at the Little. Callie eyed him with renewed skepticism, the Little baby rose up to the edge of the play pen, and got in his face, her disposable diaper rustling as she moved. “Then do something about it,” she said as she traced her tiny fingers over to the corner lock. “Be a Big and do the Big thing, or are you too Little to stand up for yourself?” Kaleb took a deep breath. This was all so stupid. He shouldn’t do it. Why did he want to do it? Whatever. This wasn’t worth his time. Callie wasn’t his circus, and he wasn’t even a monkey — sans pajamas, that is. And Callie was dead meat anyways. What harm could come from just undoing a plastic latch? So Kaleb squeezed both hands around the plastic latch and did the ‘undoing’. Click. Click. Since it was an old playpen, the worn plastic had a bit more give to it, and his smaller Betweener hands had the strength to give Callie ‘a bathroom break’. That was his good deed of the day, now he could go to bed with a clean conscience. “This better not get me in trouble,” Kaleb warned the big baby in front of him. “You’re already in trouble ‘Kay-Kay’,” Callie said darkly. “Because they’re going to do to you what they did to me, monkey-boy.” Kaleb backed off, even a Little seemed to be dogpiling onto his bad evening. He frowned at the forcibly made baby, as she somehow got the upper hand, and he didn’t like how fast she managed to insult him. “Hey, I’m only wearing these pajamas for an experiment. I’m nothing like what happened to you. Nothing at all.” “Experiment?” Callie repeated him, so he could hear himself. “Is that what they said? And you believed them? You must not know much about Amazons, which surprises me, because your sister is the worst.” “She’s not my sister,” corrected Kaleb, “she’s my stepsister.” “The distinction won’t matter when she’s your mommy, or her mommy is your mommy. Your family dynamic is pretty weird, so anything can happen. Just listen to me, whatever escape plan you have in your Tweener head won’t be good enough. You should leave and leave now, before it’s too late.” With a flourish of her tiny hands, Callie indicated to the the thick pink diaper that hung around her waist. The white nightgown didn’t do her any favors, that huge diaper was visible for all to see. There were red hearts between the tapes, and a flowery wetness indicator that was still invisible, Callie kept dry for the time being. Kaleb didn’t know how he knew, diapers and diapering just permeated his home life to the point of blatant understanding. “You know, Callie-baby,” Kaleb made sure to put extra emphasis on the insinuation. “You’re pretty smart for a Little, just not smart enough I guess.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” Callie said as she rolled onto her back, and cupped her feet into her hands, into a diaper exposing yoga pose. She looked up at the unmoving ceiling fan as she rested her head on a folded pink bunny blanket. “When the Amazons want to do you in, it really doesn’t matter how smart you are. I guess that was the lesson for me.” Kaleb found himself unable to come up with a comeback, but he couldn’t, mostly because Callie was so damn right. Every time he tried to be smart, something bad happened. He found himself looking down at his covered monkey feet, ashamed of himself for being put in his place by a Little. “What’s wrong, Kay-Kay?” Callie giggled as rolled from side to side like a baby. “Are you one of those ‘speak no evil’ monkeys? Or ‘see no evil’? I’ll be honest, you’re kind of oblivious to their designs on you. It’s pretty frightening, actually.” “I can see why Layla did this to you. You’re pretty annoying. No, very annoying. Totally annoying. Are you done yet, baby Callie?” “Thanks for undoing the lock,” Callie delivered with a smile. “It saves me a messy diaper.” “You’re welcome,” muttered Kaleb, he was still chewing on her food for thought. Kaleb turned and moped back to his room still deep within his own head. Escape plan? He didn’t even have an escape plan, but neither did Callie by the looks of it. That Little was going nowhere and fast, she was locked in right by thick tapes and plastic hooks, crib bars and car seats, strollers, bouncers, and playpens. Ha! Escape plan… you first, Callie. He was about to slip into his room when the door to Layla’s opened just a crack. “Why were you talking to Callie?” Layla asked in a hushed whisper. “I don’t know,” Kaleb said to the shadow beyond the door frame. “She’s just confused.. that’s all.” Layla giggled at her stepbrother like he said something funny. “That’s all? Are you sure about that? You two weren’t comparing diapers or anything? Or potty training tips? Or planning a paci sucking party? Let me give you some sisterly advice: Don’t associate with the babies unless you want to become one, Kay-Kay.” “You know what?” Kaleb glowered at his stepsister in the shadows. “I really hate you sometimes.” “You know what?” Layla echoed right back, she had her hooks deep into him. “I love you sometimes… like right now… you look so cute. What did you say before? ‘All that’s missing is a diaper’. I couldn’t agree more, Kay-Kay. See you tomorrow, and try to keep dry tonight, your DP is hyper sensitive to wetness.” That was the final conversation that he’d have that day, and he ended it with just as sour of a mood as the entire afternoon. He didn’t even flip on the lights to his room. It smelt clean. Real clean. At best guess, his stepmom did a thorough job of it, but he was too tired to care, his bed was a yawning abyss that he wished would swallow him whole. Kaleb lowered himself into his bed and tried to think about anything and everything that didn’t have to do with Littles, or diapers, or Amazons and Tweeners. He counted sheep. He recited the alphabet backwards. He did his own word association test in his own head, but the internal beeping machine kept him awake long into the night.

Do you want to attend meetings? I should think that the trick is to find ways to get yourself disinvited. In my experience, the easiest way is to become the committee chair ... and then not call any meetings.

Something triggered the upgrade function, didn't know it was down till I got up this morning.

That was a pretty interesting story to me because I'm starting (at the very back of my mind) to wonder if I may indeed not be a bit more nappy-dependent than I realise during the day. Mostly I can remember permitting releases but I'm increasingly aware that these releases are tiny and yet HAD to happen and that I was really not sure how I might have coped with things had I not been wearing a nappy.

I'm especially impressed by what has been (in MY life experience) the sheer totality of the pointlessness for those butcher's-paper/flip-chart team break-out exercises. I don't think I've EVER seen ANY of those exercises even mentioned after we've all flown home to our respective cities, let alone operationalised. It's like the whole thing was kind of an intellectual dummy load with the output piped directly to /dev/nul And to whoever coined the phrase "There are NO bad ideas", I hope Darwinian selection got them. I suppose it's possible I've missed the point of them which is to DO the work, not HAVE the result. It's Tuesday morning here and Tuesday is a public holiday in Australia. Accordingly I changed out of an old-school folded terry towel night nappy into, yes, you guessed it, a Rearz Inspire+ because, like Everest, they are there... It's again gorgeously comfortable (only slightly damp) but I'll be home all day painting a garage so my risks are mitigated. Furthermore, I now live in what is officially an "empty nest" so my risk of exposing wet patches is limited to my beloved, giving her something to roll her eyes about. I fully expect at the end of the day that my jeans will be in the wash due to inevitable Inspire+ failure. Those jeans would have needed a wash anyway so what the heck. Ooh, I'll keep an eye out for that. I don't spend time in the story forums as a rule as it's not what I'm looking for but I might make an exception for that one.

Lord, have I been there, my friend. You have artfully encapsulated these mindless and pointless monuments to corporate jingoism. How many lifetimes have been spent on this? Honestly, in aggregate, the waste is tantamount to a homicide. I rang in, though, to mention that I got betrayed today by a Rearz Inspire+, in glorious fashion. I'd had one on since last night, but it was a dry slumber, so really, the clock started this morning. I was working on a presentation that I'm leaving in my wake while I go golf in the Southern US, and dribbling away mindlessly. At lunch, I stayed at my desk. At some point shortly after that, I became aware that the front of my baby pants were fantastically swollen, and I resolved to conduct my next pee whilst in a different position. I found myself squatting shortly after that, cleaning up water that our puppy had dumped out of his bowl, and I thought, here we are, a new position... and go. Which was a mistake, although at least I had a towel already in my hands. I actually started leaking through the back of my jeans - it was dribbling onto the floor. I stood up, took my jeans off, finished cleaning the floor, then started contemplating walking over to the house to get changed, and how I was going to do that in a big, sodden diaper, when my eldest, home for the summer from university, came walking up the stairs. I was holding an empty dog bowl and my jeans and a towel, which I positioned in front of myself, and then I said, as soon as she crested the staircase "Don't judge me, I just got soaked by the dog..." She laughed, said it had happened to her the day before, and then launched into if it was worth returning a piece of jewelry she'd ordered on the internet for $8. Short answer: no. I ended up walking back to the house carrying my pants and the towel, timing my crossing of the driveway to a point at which I could hear no traffic coming up the street, and, I pulled my golf shirt down as far as it could go. I am not "inspired".

"Good thing I put you in this diaper I think we'll stick with pull ups for the day until you have a a few dry days or a few wet ones then we can see what we need to do but for nights it'll be these bad boys." Agatha easily lifted Eve up and set her upon the changing table. She could change Eve with magic but she decided against it this time. Agatha carefully undid the tapes and watched as the diaper opened up with a loud thud smacking the table with how heavy it was from absorbing all of Eve's pee. Agatha quickly casted a spell to block the smell of the diaper, "Sounds good to me kid," she said wiping her student's bottom, "what would you like for breakfast and yes, yes I wrote those books and many more," she chuckled as she magically poofed the used diaper away, "what would you like for breakfast? Pancakes?" Agatha slid a pull up, up, Eve's legs, "There we go! Let's get you dressed while your here! Mhm? How about overalls?" she suggested making them appear on Eve with a snap of her fingers.

@~Brian~, you are correct in that the name nappy comes from the word napkin, but there is a little more to that. Nappy is the anglised form of the French word nappé which is the root of the word for napkin and/or table cloth. It was the French royalty that started to place a cloth over an infants genitals as a way to protect the infants modesty etc. The use of this cloth as an absorbant garment to collect pee and poop was not its prime usage. Due to the behaviour of certain people, in US it is said to be "keeping up with the Jones' ", and incorrectly coping royal's behaviour, the infant / child was wrapped in this nappé. In relation to the word diaper, as used in the US and others, this is a type of cloth weave and comes from the person's name who first created it - where settlers would order lengths of this cloth by weave name. This type of behaviour is common in the US, where people commonly refer to products by company name rather than by item description i.e. hoover NOT vacuum cleaner saran wrap NOT cling film coke NOT cola drink pionola NOT player piano ... and there are thousands more company names adapted into American English as a product insted of the actual product. So, the US name diaper is just the company that make nappies - garments originally to protect a persons modesty and adapted to contain their waste. AND Disposable diaper does not exist as the diaper company, like most companies, is not disposable!

Yeah, it was long before 11:30 (EDT) when it first popped up. More like 9PM-ish.

Big hugs Ashy!🤗♥️ I LOVE you so much!😘♥️💯😊

Today is the 43rd anniversary of Operation Eagle Claw…the failed hostage rescue mission in Iran. R.I.P. to the 8 guys who burned to death at Desert One.

Where’s all the mommies?👶🍼🍼🍼

Whoever put on that diaper...

Oh yeah! I've heard about those. They're REALLY great diapees, you'll like them a lot Mikey!😁😃😊🙃♥️😇🚼🍼👶♥️💯

Interesting... I guess I can only judge Tena by the product they make available to me and it seems that both Australia and Canada are getting the poverty-pack formula. I'd be happy to try a European-formula variant and re-evaluate. The local variants for me have proved nearly worthless and I abandoned them less than 1 month into my 24/7 journey after the final "wet legs" adventure at a shopping mall.

@Little Spider unfortunately that's exactly what I thought was happening! as I stated and you agree, his problems that he's dealing with are his and his alone, and his problem should not end up impacting your ability, your family your family's ability or your mom's ability to be able to live your life the way you want to live it. if your brother has done something that your mom thinks is warranted to remove him from the house are not have him stay, that is her choice, And as far as I'm concerned it is also yours. ******* hugs my friend****** I call 'em as I see them.... Brian

Things are starting to unravel as we get into the final few chapters of this story. Hope everyone enjoys this next chapter! Chapter 13: Snacks, Movies, and Art Once upstairs, it immediately became apparent that Ditzy had read the time wrong. ‘Never trust a baby to tell the time…’ Ditzy blushed over her childish mistake, but Luna jumped in quickly. “It’s okay, Ditzy. We were all done anyway. Let’s go to the playground while we wait. How’s that sound?” Ditzy was likely terrible at poker as her face instantly revealed how good of an idea she thought that was. “Oh yes, yes, yes!” She hopped around for a moment and briefly flashed her padded undergarments to the rest of the room, but then quickly grabbed Luna’s hand once more and dragged them off to the playground nearby. I followed dutifully. I kept passing by the playground, but I was always in a rush to do other things by myself or now with the group. Currently, the jungle gym, swings, and ball pit stood emptier than I had seen at the con and seemed ready to be played with. Ditzy opted for the swings first. “Do you want to go?” I asked Luna. “No. Swings aren’t really my thing. You take the other one. I’ll probably join you all at the ball pit or jungle gym later. We’ve got the time.” I nodded and clambered up into my own swing. True to their personality lately, Luna acted as the older sibling and would occasionally push either Ditzy or I. I remembered my former days on the swing set and could easily keep up most of the momentum that Luna would leave me with after a solid shove. Ditzy would only flail about aimlessly, so Luna kept a vigilant shove going to keep her swinging instead of fussing and twisting in her seat. Gratefully, Miss Chelsea appeared not long after and took her position behind Ditzy, while Luna stood behind me. We joked for a time, but Ditzy was getting antsy, so after some help from Miss Chelsea and Luna with me, we popped out. Ditzy was obviously in charge of what the remaining group would do and bounded headfirst into the ball pit after taking a swig from her own bottle. I decided to take the time and drink from my own sippy cup as well as balls threatened to fly out of the ball pit with Ditzy’s playing inside. “Ditzy! You forgot to remove your shoes, you silly goose,” Miss Chelsea chided. “Oh. Heye you go.” Ditzy clumsily kicked up her legs and after a brief struggle, chucked them haphazardly out of the ball pit. In the midst of taking our own shoes off, Luna and I grabbed one shoe each of hers and set them together. With our shoes now also off, we dove into the ball pit and joined in on the fun. Once in, something definitely felt off about Ditzy. Whatever was happening to her felt like it was growing. Her movements were chaotic, and she bounced quickly from one idea to the next. One second was unicorns and the next was about pie. Luna only nodded along with a smile and demeanor reserved for young children, but it felt strange to me. ‘Please hurry, Derek.’ “Not having a good time?” Luna finally asked me. “Uh, no… yeah, I mean, I’m having a good time. Just… Ditzy.” Luna looked momentarily panicked or shocked but just smiled a second later. “Don’t worry about Luna. She’s just embracing this side of her. You should too. Just let go, Perce. Live in the moment. Miss Chelsea or I can sort you out if anything goes wrong. Okay? Do that for Miss Samantha... I’m sure she would tell you the same thing.” I knew she was right, and a quick ball to the top of my head was all that it took for the three of us to start batting balls at each other in quick succession, my momentary worry forgotten. It was all fun, but like her thoughts before, the colorful blur couldn’t slate Ditzy’s attention for long and in a second, popped out of the ball pit and scrambled toward the jungle gym, waddling all the way in her pinky sparkly socks. True to their own cat-like theming during this con, Luna eagerly bounced out as well and nearly pranced in following her. Miss Chelsea only looked on and smiled. By the time I was making my way out of the pit, Miss Chelsea was collecting both their shoes. I opted to tec a second and collect my own. “Oh, such a big boy, Percy. Getting your own shoes. I’m sure Miss Samantha will be very happy to hear that,” Miss Chelsea beamed. I smiled but was then reminded of her continued absence. “Oh… right. Actually, where is she? I thought you two were coming back together. She hasn’t left, has she?” I felt panic rise in my chest. “Oh, no, no, no. Don’t worry your little head about her. She just has extra things to do before we leave. Something spilled, I guess. She’s better at fixing that stuff than me and all. Nothing to worry about for you, so you just have fun today.” “Oh. I see. I just wanted to see her again and was getting a little worried.” “Oh? Everything okay?” She looked like she had an epiphany. “Do you need a change, sweetie?” “What? Oh, uh…” I shifted around in my diaper. “I don’t think so.” “Well, will you let me check for you?” I stood there shocked, but it didn’t feel weird for some reason. Almost natural for her to check at this point, despite the fact that she never had before. I just nodded my head and she reached for my crotch and cupped it for a second. “Hmmm. Seems okay for now… you just go on and play. I can check you more properly again later. Just go and have some fun for now.” I smiled and toddled off to play with my friends who were already on the second level. ‘Wait, did she say I was okay? Not dry? But…’ “Hey, Percy. Come on! Time’s wasting.” Luna called from above me. I only smiled and joined them above. The jungle gym was simple but to my aging body, it felt much more monumental than it had when I was younger. I wasn’t old or anything, but a few injuries in college allowed me to feel my knee groan for a split second when weaving in and out of the barricades between levels. Luna, Ditzy, and I chatted for a while once at the top. It felt so serene up there, despite the fact that Ditzy’s stream of consciousness felt so random. Almost… babyish. It didn’t matter at that moment though, and we all just had fun. In what felt like minutes, Miss Chelsea called out. “Come on you all! Pre-school is starting in just a minute.” ‘Geez. That hour went by fast.’ We all madly dashed to the bottom and tried to pop our shoes on as quickly as possible. Ditzy sported a pair of Velcro sneakers I was very jealous of, despite them being adorned in pink and sparkles. My own laced shoes were giving me a terrible time with my still clouded head, but I eventually got them tied just as Luna looked like she was about to ask if I needed help. The four of us then casually waltzed outside and took our seat at the familiar round tables. A few other littles I hadn’t seen before joined us and Ditzy, Luna, and I all took a sip of our respective drinks. The nice lady heading the pre-school class then started speaking. The commotion of everyone in transit around us and the impromptu market set up nearby made hearing her difficult, but she still seemed like a seasoned pre-school teacher like Missy Moon and Mr. George had as well. In no time at all, we all started singing a song about a bear. It had accompanying movements and I was very glad that I wasn’t the only one having difficulty keeping up, though admittedly, most everyone else caught on much faster than Ditzy or I did. My only consolation was that after the sixth verse, my movements were already looking better than Ditzy’s, who continued to wave about like a rag doll. ‘At least she’s happy…’ Again though, Luna was trying her best to help her out while still enjoying the song and dance herself. It didn’t take long though for Miss Chelsea to take over and help them both out, much to Luna’s visible embarrassment. Once the song was over, we all clambered to one of the far tables, now covered in chips, cookies, and an array of crafty projects. Luna selected the option to create her own planet, while Ditzy and I chose a turtle and what was supposed to be a flower respectively. Using my creativity though, I noticed the pattern would be perfect to make a sun and then give it to Miss Samantha before I left. I’m sure she would have appreciated a flower, but I knew I could show off more to her with my own creation. We all busied ourselves with our projects and Miss Chelsea would occasionally walk around and offer suggestions. It wasn’t long before she was fully helping Ditzy with her simple turtle and Luna with the more complicated planet project. Luna then leaned back and noticed I was finishing the last of my sippy cup. “That’s very good, Perce. I’m sure Miss Samantha will be very happy. Do you want some more?” I was deeply entrenched with my sun painting with all the delicate line work that needed to be done. It was unfortunately taking longer than I wanted it to as I couldn’t seem to keep my hand as still as I normally could, so any assistance would be great. “That would be great. Thank you, Luna.” “Okay, just give…” “I’ll take that,” Miss Chelsea interjected. She looked at Luna with a look I couldn’t place once again. ‘Was it dominance or something with pet play?’ It had never really been my scene, so I wasn’t sure what to make of the moment between them. I only knew that Luna slumped back into the chair submissively and allowed Miss Chelsea to take my sippy cup away. “I guess she’s just trying to be helpful…” “Sure…” Luna looked both sad and annoyed over whatever just happened, so I tried to take their mind off it. “What planet is that?” “It’s… you wouldn’t have heard of it.” “Oh? Fantasy or sci-fi? Is it planet Vulcan? Tat… Tatooo… ugh. Tatooine?” I winced after stumbling over my words. ‘Why was Tatooine so hard to pronounce just then? I was able to pronounce the place since I was four! Stupid hangover…’ “Good guesses, Percy, but no. It’s called Amazonia to some. You see, it’s where all these people live, but they’re basically giants compared to us. Most this height are known as Li…” “Luna!” Miss Chelsea had returned and then set my drink back in front of me. “Don’t distract Percy. I just heard we only have about twenty more minutes here before all this needs to be packed up.” “Twenty minutes! Oh no! Sorry Luna. Tell me later. I’ve gotta finish this for Miss Samantha!” I refocused on my piece and only heard a sigh and some angry whispering nearby. I was too ingrained in my own piece to care though. ‘Amazonia… sounds like an interesting place.’ The twenty minutes flew by, and my piece was mostly finished. Another thirty minutes would have been wonderful, but everyone was already packing up. “Do you think Miss Samantha will like it?” I asked timidly, showing the group the small palm-sized circle now full of yellows, oranges, and outlined all in red, complete with a blue sky to add contrast and sell it as the sun. “Oh, Percy. That’s beautiful,” Luna gushed. Miss Chelsea looked surprised. “I’m absolutely certain she will love it.” Ditzy only stared at the piece in wonderment. Her turtle hadn’t fared as well even with help, though any toddler would have been proud of it. An adult… well, I supposed some still could. I gingerly wrapped the still drying piece in a paper towel and grabbed myself a bag of chips. Miss Chelsea had suggested going to see the Disney movie being shown in the now practically empty ballroom. There were no objections between the three of us. Entering inside, it was hard to match the quiet and dark room with the scene that we all had left last night. Littles in light-up jackets and dark eyeliner had given away to sleepy littles adorned in footed pajamas and sleepy time onesies cuddled up with their favorite stuffy. Our group was no exception and quickly took our places, opting for the floor instead of some of the chairs. Of course, Miss Chelsea opted out of this and chose to sit in a chair herself, overlooking each of us nearby. We noisily ate our own respective bag of chips, and the lights grew even dimmer as the movie began to play. About thirty minutes into the film, Miss Chelsea started buzzing. It was very funny to see her all embarrassed at the interruption, but her face also turned to a look of worry and then anger. “Everything okay, Miss Chelsea?” Luna asked. “Ummm. I’m not sure. I need to go check on something. Might have a Tom situation.” ‘Tom?’ She then stood up. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back. Just be good for Luna you two… oh Ditzy.” Luna and I looked over to a clearly passed out Ditzy on the ground, deeply wrapped around Lamby and her pacifier gently bobbing in and out. ‘Honestly, a nap didn’t sound too bad today…’ “Make sure she’s okay in a little bit, Luna. You’re in charge while I’m away.” She then walked off and left the three of us alone. Luna only smiled at me, and we both turned back to the film. It was typical Disney plotting, but now, I couldn’t help but reverse some of the gender roles in the film and wish to be the prince in a tower that a lovely woman would come to rescue. Though originally a beautiful woman in armor to marry me, my thoughts couldn’t help but shift and think of the woman as a new mommy come to take me away. ‘Maybe Miss Samantha could be… woah. Hold it. Don’t even go there. You two are going to be separated soon and she’s great, but don’t go there. She’s not your mommy, Percy. Don’t be foolish…’ I shook my head at the confusing thoughts and then looked around for Stripe to cuddle with. After a thought like that, I needed a substitute cuddle buddy. That’s when I realized he was nowhere to be seen… I thrashed back and forth and even raised my butt up to check underneath. I was desperate and couldn’t find my little tiger anywhere. I could feel a stinging sensation in my eyes and my lower lip threatened to start wobbling. ‘I couldn’t have lost him! Not Stripe!’ I just couldn’t think clearly enough to remember when I had last seen him. ‘Stupid hangover. Leave me alone! I want Stripe!’ “You okay, Perce?” Luna asked me in a hushed tone so as not to disturb the others or the nearby lightly snoring but cute Ditzy. “No. Not at all... I can’t find Stripe anywhere. Oh god! He’s probably in the trash. Gone, gone! Lost forever.” Luna then reached out and gave me a giant hug. “Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay, Percy.” “No, no it’s not. Don’t lie to me.” “Yes, it’s all okay, because if you calm down just for a moment, I can show you. Can you be a big boy for me and try to calm down? I promise it’s worth it.” It couldn’t hurt, so I backed out of the hug and tried to force myself to calm down. It partially worked and I tried to internalize my feelings for a moment. ‘Maybe Luna has a treat? Maybe Miss Chelsea took him for some reason? Did he get dirty, and I didn’t see?’ My mind swirled as I wiped away an errant tear. “Good. Now,” they reached into their own bag behind them and pulled something out, “is this your long, lost friend?” Luna thrust the familiar tiger into my view. “Stripe! Oh, you found him. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!” “Well, thank you, Percy… but I took him.” My smile vanished. “You… but why?” “It’s okay, Percy.” Luna held their hands up in defense. “You were painting, and I didn’t want him to get dirty. I just borrowed him for a minute. I was always going to return him safe and free of any paint.” “Oh…” I felt guilty over my distrust of Luna and foolish over my small breakdown. I lowered my head in shame. “Thank you...” “Aww, it’s okay, Perce.” She patted me on the shoulder gently. “No need to feel embarrassed, but you’re welcome. Now, let’s keep watching. They’re almost at the best part.” We started watching once more and the screen lit up in a cacophony of colors. Every person in the room was bathed in light. For her part, Ditzy only twitched and started snoring again. It was a truly great moment in the film, and I squirmed excitedly in my appropriate movie-themed onesie. It was all great, at least until a giant cramp rippled through my body. I shifted uncomfortably. “You okay, Percy?” I nodded. Another cramp, but this one in my stomach. More focused… lower… ‘Oh no! Not that!’

Ashley's diaper was in a similar state to Sam's. Waking up with a yawn she wrapped her arms around Rosemary's neck and mumbled, "Morning." she wasn't much of a morning person it took a good twenty minutes to adjust from being asleep to being awake normally. She was close to falling asleep again but kept her eyes open. She nodded and then smiled when she saw Sam, Sam was always so cute and sweet in baby mode even though it often brought up negative emotions for her because of how it came about. "Hey Sammy." she cringed a bit at how loud her sister was only to frown slightly as Sam started to bawl. Judy had been on the phone arranging the photo shoot properly and contracts. The deal was fair but she knew that they could get more out of them but that would require the girls to push these guys a bit, "We can talk more when we get there I'm sure the girls might have a suggestion or two to make." she smirked knowing that no one could say no to her babies. Judy put the phone down only to hear Sam bawling. Judy rushed from the office to the kitchen, "Sammy." she said picking her up and giving her a quick cuddle, "It's okay mommy's here!" she bounced her a bit.

What're you talking about? It was a huge, unexpected twist! Isabelle is much too big of a girl to require such things, don't be absurd. It was a single accident! Could happen to anyone! The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 16 Panic set in, and took control of Isabelle. 'What on earth just happened.' Isabelle had woken up from her deep sleep, startled by the calls from Jess upstairs. Her focus first went to Jess, to the kids, to her job. But immediately thereafter, it went to the warmth, pooling in her pants. Isabelle immediately recognized what was happening. Fortunately - if you can call it that - she had only appeared to start peeing when Jess called her, or sometime around that. Isabelle's first reaction was to cut off her pee, immediately squeezing her thighs together, and stemming the stream. Underneath her pants, Isabelle could tell her panties were thoroughly soaked. But she needed to assess the damage to her pants. Isabelle popped off of the couch with renewed vigor. The panic had her heart rate racing, her body working purely off of adrenaline at this stage. Isabelle's slippers made contact with the floor, and the rest of her body was lifted. Despite having wet herself, Isabelle noted that her ascent was rather graceful, and for some reason, was proud of that fact. 'Really, Iz? Now is not the time,' she chastised herself, though with little credibility. At that moment, Isabelle heard Jess call again for her. "Isabelle? Where are you? Is everything okay?" Jess's voice had just a hint of concern in it. Isabelle knew she had to respond. "Sorry Jess. Yes. Yes. Everything is fine. I am just downstairs. DONT...I mean no need to come down here. I ugh.....ugh...I am coming up in a sec!" Isabelle regretted the emphasis she had placed on the word 'don't,' and so tried to end on a cheerier note, and project some confidence." Isabelle turned back to herself to assess the damage. Though she was wearing dark navy pants, and despite cutting her pee off prematurely, the damage was clear as day: a large, wet patch was clear as could be, right in her crotch where her pants had soaked up her pee. As Isabelle tugged her pants around, she noted that it extended behind her as well, having pooled around her butt a bit, and the large, circular stain was visible front to back. Isabelle was humiliated. 'How could I have allowed this to happen. How could this have happened?!? What the heck is going on with me?' Isabelle felt like crying, right then and there. The smell did not help her cause - it was clear someone had peed down here. There was no way to cover that up. In fact, at this moment, Isabelle was convinced nothing would stop her from exactly that - crying. 'It's the only sensible thing to do...' And then the real terror took over, creeping up her body like a scarab. Isabelle turned her head, ever so slowly to the left, and down. And as she did. She noticed the stain. She had peed on the couch. It shouldn't have been surprising to her. Pants, of course, were not intended to absorb pee like that. 'And it had happened, though rarely, in the past when one of the......' .... ... 'That was it.' Isabelle thought, quietly to herself. Her heart had stabilized to a still rapid, vicious beat. But she had her solution. 'I cannot believe I am about to do this.' Isabelle was ashamed that she had wet herself, and equally ashamed about what she was about to do. 'But what choice do I have?' Isabelle immediately took off her sweatshirt, and began tying it around her waist. The bulk of the wetness in her pants was visible from the rear, and so she did her best to let the body of the sweatshirt cover that part of her pants up. There was no mirror downstairs, but based on her review, Isabelle had done a pretty decent job. Isabelle looked down at the front of her pants. She had tied the sweatshirt arms over one wet spot, but it wouldn't be enough. Mind scrambling, eyes, darting, Isabelle's attention turned to the laundry room. She sprinted her way over there, searching desperately for what she hoped...'YES'. Isabelle had found her treasure - a bucket of cleaning supplies. Isabelle pulled the entire bucket out, and went to the couch. She grabbed one spray bottle of cleaning solution - no attention was paid to the type, - and began applying it to the area of the couch where......'where I peed.' Isabelle then stashed the cleaning solution back in the bucket, and carried the entire cleaning bucket up with her toward the stairs. 'If I do this right, they'll never know,' Isabelle told herself. It would need to be perfect. Isabelle's heart raced faster with each step she took up the stairs. The silence of her prowl up the stairs was palpable, fearful that each time her ballet slipper made contact with the next stair, it might creak. Stealthily, Isabelle reached for the doorknob, twisting it, and pushing the door open, quickly retreating her hand to the cleaning bucket, and positioning it oddly near her crotch, covering the stain. Isabelle took a deep breath, and emerged. Almost immediately, Isabelle was confronted by Jess's warm smile. It put Isabelle at ease, so much so that for the first time since she woke up, she noticed that she still needed to pee. Isabelle began to notice, at once, the cool, slimminess of her underwear, nestled against her, a single drop of....pee....dripping from it and trickling down her leg. The droplet send goosebumps down her spine. "Hi Iz! How was everyth......what's with the bucket? Did something happen?" Isabelle watched Jess's smile fade, shifting to concern. Isabelle was prepared for the question, she only hoped her excuse would work. "Hey Jess....Yah, kids were great. They listened, and ate, and were pretty good the whole night," Isabelle started. "They both went to sleep pretty easily, though I expect Eric will have a surprise for you in the morning," Isabelle delivered with a smile. Humor would help her deal with this, she prayed. It was the moment of truth. "There was...ummm...one problem, butisnobiddealIllfixit!" Isabelle stammered the last sentence into one word. Jess had eased up, but was still waiting to hear why Isabelle was holding a cleaning bucket. "You see....Uhh after Eric went to bed...uh...Becky, see, she uh.....she wanted to play hide and seek. So I told her that was fine." Isabelle hoped her lie was convincing. She herself was hardly convinced of it. Isabelle continued. "See....Becky was doing so good with the potty - I mean bathroom all night. I kept checking her. And she was dry all night, you see." If Isabelle was about to throw this toddler under the bus, she would at least have the good graces to build her up first. "so..uh....uh...Becky wanted to hide first, and I said that was fine. So I was counting, and I heard her pitter patter down the stairs, you know, how they pitter patter, right?" Jess's smile returned at this. Unbeknownst to Isabelle, Jess knew exactly where this was going. She was, after all, a mom. But Jess allowed Isabelle to continue. And continue Isabelle did. "So I must have only been 'searching' for like 2 or 3 minutes. You know,.....I uh...wanted to let her feel good about herself. And then I went downstairs to find her and get her ready for bed, you see?" Isabelle couldn't believe what she was about to do. In fact, it wasn't too late to back out. She could confess. Sure, it would be mortifying. But it would be the grown up thing to do. Her mom's recent words to her echoed in her mind: "the truth is sweetie, what you're going to have to learn to do, what a grown up learns to do, is that you need to accept the things that are happening, let them happen, all of it. And once you do, you can learn how to deal with those things." Maybe Isabelle just needed to accept that this happened...that she was having bladder issues, and fess up to Jess. Not only was it...well...true, but it was the right thing to do. ... ... 'Are you nuts?' Isabelle thought to herself, snapping out of her moment of honesty. 'You can't tell this woman you peed on her couch. I will literally die.' And so, Isabelle proceeded with her lie - 'there really is no other option!' "So I went to the basement, and on my way down there, I could hear some sobbing, you see." Isabelle would have to be careful about this next part, especially since there was quite a bit of pee for a toddler on that couch. It needed to be plausible, even if it was at Becky's expense. "So I started rushing because I was worried that Becky had hurt herself. But on my to her, I deduced what it really was." Isabelle took a breath, and went on. "Next to the couch I found Becky's dry pullup. She must have taken it off, maybe because she thought the noise would reveal her spot," Isabelle proposed, trying to make Becky come out of this in the best light possible. It wasn't working, as Jess literally covered her mouth with aghast at hearing this. There was no backing out now, though. "And so I found her under a blanket on the couch, and she had apparently had an accident while hiding there." Isabelle couldn't believe the words escaped her mouth. She had literally just thrown a toddler under the bus. She had blamed a toddler for a pee accident that belonged to her, an 18 year old, on the couch. Isabelle needed to wrap this up though. "She was distraught, and so I took her upstairs and put her into a clean pullup, and put her to bed. I don't think she wants to talk about it," Isabelle said, hoping that Jess might not bring it up to her daughter, though that was doubtful., "and after she went to bed, I just tried to clean up the mess. And that's when you came in. I'm really sorry Jess!" Jess had been silent the whole time Isabelle was speaking, collecting her thoughts. She looked at Isabelle, and gave her a smile. "It's fine sweetie. It's not your fault. I cannot believe my Becky did that though. Taking her pullup off? She's never done that before. I don't know why she thought she would get away with something like that." Jess looked genuinely disappointed in her daughter. And it was all Isabelle's fault. Jess shook it off, at least for the moment. "No matter. Why don't you give me that, you don't need to clean the mess, and you can head home? You did a wonderful job tonight. It's just a shame my infant behaved better than my toddler," Jess joked, trying to make light of the situation. Isabelle hesitated. She couldn't hand the bucket over without revealing her deception. Part two of her plan required grabbing her bag, and quickly swapping it out for the bucket, so she could continue to cover the front her wet pants, which continued to cool and press against her legs. "Ummm.... Okay. Let me just grab my bag," Isabelle nearly shouted. 'Why am I speaking so loud?' Isabelle navigated and shifted around Jess awkwardly, prompting a laugh from Jess as Isabelle made her way to the front of the house. The problem, of course, was that Jess was reaching out for the bucket. And Isabelle was out of excuses. She was approaching quickly, and basically had one hand on the bucket to pull it away... ... ...when a miracle happened. Eric. Wonderful, beautiful, perfect Eric. He was crying on the monitor. Jess's arms stopped at the moment her hand had a grasp on the bucket. "Oh...looks like someone knows their mommy is home." Jess said playfully to Isabelle, releasing her grip and heading up the stairs. Isabelle was now wet in her armpits as well, sweating profusely. Jess was climbing the stairs as she called down to Isabelle, "I bet my baby needs a new diaper. Little does he know he wont be the only one wearing diapers tomorrow," Jess turned back to Isabelle, to continue with the joke, "No he won't, will he Iz?" Jess said, smiling, and then winking to her, before turning around and walking to Eric's room. Isabelle knew the joke was about Becky - or sure as hell hoped so. Nevertheless, Isabelle went all red with embarrassment at the thought Jess might be referring to her....at the though that Jess saw through her lies. Isabelle musted a simple "...haha yah.." in response. In reality, her lie will have caused Becky to return to diapers, at least part time, something the poor girl didn't deserve. 'What choice did I have?' Isabelle continued to ask herself, knowing that there in fact was, an answer. She could have owned up. 'No matter, more present problems.' Isabelle didn't hesitate for a second, putting the bucket down and swapping it out for her bag at the front door. Isabelle quickly made sure she was covered, just as Jess emerged from Eric's bedroom with the little boy on her hip. "Indeed he did leave me a present Iz, just like you said!" Jess was smiling, happy to be home with her kids. Isabelle took the opportunity to excuse herself, mustering a goodbye and turning to the door. The three feet to the door felt more like 30 yards. Isabelle reached for the doorknob, moments away from her escape, when suddenly, she heard Jess call to her. "Wait. Isabelle." Isabelle's heart stopped with her body. 'Had Jess seen something.' Isabelle remained frozen in place as she heard Jess step down each step with purpose. 'I'm caught. How on earth am I going to explain this,' Isabelle thought, before finding the courage, or sense, to turn around and meet Jess's eye. Jess started to reach out her hand toward Isabelle, no doubt to push her bag aside and reveal her accident. 'I am done for,' Isabelle resigned herself to her fate. "...Your money sweetie. Thank you for watching the kids. I'm sure they loved having such a big girl like you around," Jess said, adding a wink to the exchange, and placing $50 into Isabelle's sweaty palm. Isabelle sighed a huge sigh of relief, thanked Jess, and then quickly backed her way out of the house, and onto the porch. Once the door was closed behind her, Isabelle was able to do what she had wanted to for the past half-hour; Isabelle stood on the stoop, and started bawling. The cool, evening breeze against her legs and pants reminded her more than ever that she had peed in her pants. Isabelle was wet. And unhappy. And standing on a porch, crying about it. And even though she knew it was hardly the most mature sight or behavior, she had nothing left in the tank, and simple stayed there crying for a few minutes, praying that neither Jess nor John would see or hear her. After what was the better part of ten minutes, Isabelle managed to brave her way down the stairs, her wet panties rubbing against her thighs and pressing against her....well her vagina. With each step, she grew more and more uncomfortable, and even the short trek home seemed like a gauntlet. Still in tears, Isabelle made her way back to her house, confronted with yet another problem; she would need to get by her mother without getting caught in her wet pants and panties. While Isabelle had an excuse to get around Jess, she was less confident - and without ideas - to sneak around her mom. Isabelle would just need to hope her mom was already in bed. As she made her way home, Isabelle started to wipe the tears from her face. Isabelle couldn't put her finger on it, but for some reason, a warmth emanating from her slippers started to take hold of her body. It was the strangest thing, but, it made her feel better. The warm comfort that spread from her slippers, up her legs, through her arms, and to her heart, made the whole mess....less awful. Though not possible, it also made the cold, clammy wet pants and panties feel a little less so, almost warmer. Though still gross, it was better than when it was cold. Isabelle climbed the steps to her home, and pulled her key out of the bag handing in front of her. Slowly, she turned the key into the door, and pushed it open, happy to note that the light downstairs was already off. Isabelle made her way in, closed and locked the door behind her, before tiptoeing on pointe up the stairs to her bedroom. Isabelle could see a light on in her mom's bedroom, but quickly made her way to her room, and closed the door behind her. "Thank god," Isabelle remarked to herself, pressing her back against her door, and without thinking, sliding down it, all the way until her butt reached the ground, sitting in her own pee. The act hardly phased her in that moment - she was simply happy to be home. After a few minutes, Isabelle stood up, stripped her wet clothes off of her body. As she slid her sweatpants off of her, she noted how much larger the wet stain in the rear had expanded, likely not completely covered by her sweatshirt. 'I can only hope that Jess didn't see this.' Isabelle then peeled the absolutely soaked panties off of her hips, and down her legs, the liquid preserved in them seemingly dripping out against her legs as she tugged them off. Naked, Isabelle made her way to bathroom. She immediately sat down on the toilet, and released the now urgent, remaining pee in her body, into the porcelain toilet bowl, before getting up, and getting into a warm shower. Isabelle took her time, enjoying the warm water falling against her, feeling it wash away the tears, wash away the embarrassment, wash away....the pee. After her first body wash, Isabelle took the time to process what was going on with her - the first time she had been able to this weekend. After Wednesday, it was clear her mother thought she was several years younger than she really was. The school as well.....'perhaps they didn't think it was a mistake having me dance with the younger girls.' Furthermore, her friends all but confirmed their own thoughts on Friday....'they acted like I was going to be in different classes than them. Classes we took together years ago.' Isabelle concluded, though unable to actually remember having taken those classes, as hard as she tried to remember. 'But they were still so sweet, and otherwise normal.' Isabelle was struggling to put all of her clues together. 'And Dani and Lola would never, ever just mess with me. Something more is going on...' 'And there was more,' Isabelle thought, as she started to shampoo her hair, 'Jess was acting so strange tonight.' Isabelle noted, trying to recall what had happened when she entered the house. 'She treated me like it was my first time there.....AND SO DID MOM, now that I think about it.' Isabelle added these clues to her list. 'Jess even gave me the 'rundown' about emergency numbers and what not....But I've been babysitting those kids for yea..' Isabelle stopped short, pausing, and again realizing that though she knew she had sat for those kids before, she couldn't think of a single time beyond the week prior. 'When Becky actually had had an accident...' 'And of course, there was Mr. Barns, who pretended like he didn't even know me at all.' It was an odd collection of facts, but at least things were starting to come together. 'They all think I am younger, but why. Why do they think I am younger?" As Becky pondered the question, she began to apply a second round of body wash to herself, feeling the need to wash the dirt, grime, urine, and night away. As she did so, this time, her attention was caught on more than just the facts she had identified so far, but on ones she had been ignoring for some time. Isabelle massaged the soap onto her arms, noticing that a number of her childhood freckles had been returning there as well. Her arms felt, smaller, thinner, than they had been just one week ago. Isabelle noted that, despite having not shaved in nearly 2 weeks now, there was barely any hair in her armpits to be spoken of. Isabelle continued washing her body, down from her neck, and to her breasts. Though she never had particularly large breasts, Isabelle could feel they were smaller, cupping them more easily. Not only that, they were firmer, more dense, than perhaps they had used to feel, the areola around her nipples also having receded a noticeable amount. As she made her way down her body, she continued washing her stomach, her hips, and her back, all of which felt....different. As she made her way further down, Isabelle noted that she also seemed to lack her usual public hair, which though always well kempt, was nothing more than a naturally light covering of, blonde hairs, mostly centered closer to her vagina. Isabelle made a point of thoroughly cleaning the area. Her legs, to no surprise, lacked their regular amount of hair, and strangely enough, her feet looked considerably smaller....'no, just less...no definitely smaller,' to her on review. Her body now lathered in soap, Isabelle accepted what she had refused to before, what she knew might be happening when she first struggled to reach her coffee mug, what terrified her when she couldn't fit into her leotards...'I mean Lola's leotards...', and what petrified her when she had to wear Dani's old one-piece suit: Isabelle herself was getting smaller. 'What could possibly be causing all of this? I must be sick or something,' Isabelle guessed, though knowing there was no true illness that made you de-age. 'At least not that anyone has discovered yet.' There was also another factor. Another clue. One that Isabelle knew existed - it was the precise reason she was in a shower tonight. But not one that she was willing to cope with, to admit, to accept. Not yet. It was not a clue which she would speak aloud, not one she was even willing to allow to occupy her thoughts. It was a clue that would likely help her solve this mystery, but not one she would consider. "I can solve this without that,' Isabelle concluded, daring to even address the thought. Though if she were being honest, she wasn't sure that was quite true. As she turned off the shower, and wrapped herself up in a towel, Isabelle reduced the facts she was able to investigate to the following: 1. Everyone believes me to be younger 2. I cannot seem to remember things that I know have happened, but cannot point to. 3. My body appears, at least, to be shrinking. 4. "___" With those in mind, Isabelle revisited her original theories. A prank, considering the complexity when factoring in the number of people that would need to be involved, could be ruled out. A coma, unfortunately, could not. 'Did I bang my head when I was dancing,' Isabelle wondered. 'But what is there to do, if it was a coma? Do I simply wait until I wake up?' Isabelle pondered. Though not exactly the same situation, in book two of the Emerald Chronicles, the Viscountess of Sapphire Grove had suffered a similar coma like event, where escape relied on her solving the mystery of her sisters murder in her coma. 'Perhaps I need to solve the mystery of my shrinking?' Isabelle deduced. it was certainly worth pursuing. There were other theories, of course, but nonet that Isabelle would pay heed to. Unless she observed some other material change around her, it would be absurd to think that the planet being absorbed into a wormhole had the single effect of making her shrink and forgetful, while preserving everything else. And Isabelle was not prepared to entertain make believe theories of magic, when there remained perfectly plausible explanations like a 'Coma-journey' that were on the table. 'I'll continue my investigation with this as the operative theory, and we will go from there.' Who the "we" was, Isabelle did not quite know, feeling incredibly lonely in her crusade for the truth. The night had been long, exhausting....overwhelming. Isabelle had had enough. Rather than doing the laundry tonight, Isabelle kicked aside her wet panties and pants, and made her way to her dresser to find some pajamas. Despite her search, the best she could find this evening was a long sleeping shirt, with a picture of some animated animals on the front. Slipping it on, Isabelle turned and reached down to grab her ballet slippers - the only thing offering her any comfort of late - and lovingly returned them to their box, placing them near the floor of her closet. With that, Isabelle climbed into bed, and within seconds, was fast asleep.

Ava rubbed Lexi's back, "We can baby let's go cuddle it's way to early to be up right now." she took Lexi's hand and took her back to bed. Ava held Lexi's tightly as they slept together. Alexis was feeling tired and a lot better already after having some of her mommy's milk. Alexis smiled. She enjoyed sleeping with Callie and probably would sleep with her every night if she could but she also knew that wasn't possible. Alexis woke up ten minutes later missing Callie's warmth. Yawning she got up and headed down, "Hey mommy," she said coming up behind her and giving her a hug, "what you making it kinda looks like pancakes?" she said no longer feeling dazed or sick. Ava woke up and stayed in bed cuddling Lexi not wanting to leave her side right now.

Chapter 92: Little Voices: “The Talk” I spent most of the day Thursday in a low key funk. No, it wasn’t terrible, or traumatic. No great victories or defeats. No extra signs that my students were hurting more than they already were. No shouts or crying leaking in from my old room. Tracy wore a perfect poker face. The few times she was in eyesight or earshot I found myself trying to listen for a telltale crinkle or see a bit of thin white plastic peeking out of a waistband, but found nothing. The bus loop and the cafeteria were too loud to hear a diaper rustling and Tracy’s newly developed habit of wearing long flowing skirts and dresses hid any signs of puffy padding. I was fixated on it because I was sure she had been diapered yesterday. I didn’t want her to be diapered the next. It was a punishment, obviously, but was this an official punishment like when Raine had been tricked into crossing a line or a pretense to get rid of Tracy due to Maturosis? Had this Wednesday been a one time thing? A warning to remind her of her place? Or was it part of a larger attempt to drive her out of the school? It was so hard to tell. Tweeners had neither the privilege of assumed maturity until proven beyond a reasonable doubt nor the presumed guilt of innocence until proven otherwise. To one side of the road, Amazons were safe because the flow of society went with them. To the other side, Littles could learn to be safe; traffic went against us but we learned to watch for oncoming cars and were encouraged to dive into a ditch as necessary. Tweeners had to walk in the middle and as such could be squished like grapes if they didn’t learn to look behind and infront of them at all times. Statistically, there was no way Tracy was getting Adopted. I’d never met the man, but she was married to an Amazon. If someone said she had Maturosis, she’d go into his custody and they could get a second opinion disproving the diagnosis, or just move far away enough. She wouldn’t spend more than an afternoon sleeping in a crib depending on how long it took Mr…Tracy’s husband…to drive down to the school or wherever she was being kept. Unless her husband got his own baby crazy activated and decided that he liked her better this way or that she needed his care. Or he went mad with grief and burned down their house. Or he just didn’t want her because he had better things to do. Or there was some obscure Amazon law on the books that made him ineligible to adopt because he was clearly blind to not notice his own wife’s ‘immature tendencies’. Or they hit her super hard with hypnosis or continence drugs or those messed up soundwaves that messed up coordination and focus while also stimulating pleasure before he rescued her. Or if her husband didn’t really exist. Maybe that wedding ring and the brief mentions of him and their weekend plans were tiny bits of protective lies she’d woven over the years to keep giants uninterested. I didn’t even know the man’s first name. Come to think of it, I’d never properly memorized Tracy’s last name. I’d asked, but it was hard to pronounce; something long and Spanic sounding. Mayztepic, maybe? When my mouth fumbled with the pronunciation, Tracy didn’t laugh. She’d just nodded and said, “Took me a while too, and I married into it. Just call me ‘Tracy’. ‘Miss Tracy’ around the kids.” Even if everything went right for Tracy in regards to Maturosis; even if she noped out due to harassment, quit, and rode off into the sunset, that would leave no one around to mitigate the harm Ambrose was actively doing to our kids. They’d be even more alone than they were. I’d be more alone… The more time that passed between my old life and Adoption, the more I was learning how very little I really knew outside of my immediate struggle for survival and recognition. I didn’t actually know what risks versus protections Tracy had to balance and how likely any given outcome was to pass. I actually told Janet about it that same Wednesday night, and to her credit she promised she’d look into it for me. Ask Beouf if there were any Union complaints or safeguards or try to find out from Tracy in a way that wouldn’t embarrass her. That opportunity didn’t come Thursday. Beouf had called in sick, citing her new granddaughter, and Tracy was impossible to pull aside during school hours and before and after school she made herself scarcer than usual. The substitute in Beouf’s room was an old Amazon woman who could have been anywhere between seventy and ninety by looking at her, and not important enough to remember. She was just a warm body and Zoge ran the room in Beouf’s absence. We were all angels that day, too. No mischief attempted by anyone. I was so preoccupied worrying about Tracy that Billy asked if I was feeling alright. When Billy asks if you’re okay, something’s wrong. Chaz asked if we should stir the pot by doing another Why Day since it had been a while, but I spun some lie about how Beouf would likely punish us harsher for acting up in her absence- teachers hated and were deeply embarrassed by bad notes left by substitutes. I also spun it that if we were good for Zoge and the warm body, but terrible when Beouf returned, it would agitate her more and make her wonder what she was doing wrong. It’s funny how one can tell a lie, hear it, and then realize that it’s actually quite true. So we were good. All day. Besides, the old woman was cantankerous enough to very clearly state that she did not change diapers. Take the win where you can find it. The school day behind me, Janet drove me home and gave me dinner consisting of steamed broccoli and carrots, as well as cut up peanut butter and natural strawberry jam sandwiches on whole wheat bread. All foods meant to relieve and prevent constipation. Then she dressed me in a blue and white pinstripe long sleeve romper with the words ‘Little Slugger’ on the front and ‘01’ on the back, as well grippy socks that mimicked baseball cleats. Baby clothes that could double as jammies. This was going to be a long night. A small bit of comfort was that she didn’t put me in a night time diaper, so I wasn’t completely locked in for the night as it were. Dinner was early and dressing was fast because Janet was in a rush to get to the Community Center for the Little Voices meeting. “Why are we going so early?” I asked from the carseat. “I’m tired of getting there just a few minutes before it starts. I need to spend more time with other Mommies and Daddies. Make friends. I don’t get playground time at school everyday like you do. Everybody needs friends.” That shut me up. I could have retorted or otherwise tried to dissuade her, but it would have served no purpose. That and she was right. Everybody did need friends to one degree or another. Talking to the Amazons at Little Voices would only dunk Janet deeper into the crazy pool and give her more ideas, but talking to Littles more mindfucked than me and getting a feel for each different prison environment and how I could use it to my advantage was crucial on multiple levels. Talking to softer Mommies and Daddies might soften her up, too. Strategically, I needed Janet to keep going to the meetings. I just hoped that my personal resources and preparations would outpace hers when the time came. We were among the first there, with only one or two other Little-Amazon pairings. I refused to think of them as ‘families’ even ironically. There was one chubby Little girl who wore a dark blue dress that was almost black with white tights and a red headband over dark brown hair. I had a hunch that someone had just had their own Picture Day at their daycare. She sat on the floor, absorbed in play with stacking cups and figuring out. Mindfucked or just bored? Who could say without a conversation I didn’t want to have? The other girl had short blonde hair and lounged in her Mommy’s lap wearing just a Cherry the cartoon dog t-shirt and socks that went well past her knees in lieu of pants. She chewed on her pacifier rather like a cow on a piece of cud, with bits of red juice dribbling out of the corner of her lips. She took the pacifier out of her mouth and examined it. It wasn’t a pacifier in the purest sense, but instead had a plastic mesh netting loaded to the brim with sweet looking red berries. Clever. Janet took a seat next to them in the circle of chairs and unholstered her diaper bag. She never forgot that damn bag when we went to these meetings. More social pressure and expectations, I suspected. Bring your status symbols and cult’s iconography where they mattered most. “Do you want to play on the floor?” Janet whispered quietly to me. She was still cautious. Still holding back. I hadn’t gone out of my way to hurt her this week, but I’d still hurt her and she was smart enough to keep unrealistic expectations in check. I bit my tongue and shook my head. “Okay,” she said. I wanted to smile at the disappointment. I resisted. The two makeshift mothers prattled on over us. “So I’ve heard there’s this new subscription box that I’ve been wanting to try.” The Amazon with the Little blonde girl in her lap chattered to her seat neighbor. The age difference between the giant and her bogus baby was negligible. They could have been work buddies or dating if not for the size difference. I wouldn’t have been surprised if one was just a year or two older than the other. “Oh?” the Mommy of the cup stacker said. “I love my subscription to Hiya Crisp.” Like her manufactured daughter, the Amazon had dark hair, but also had few hints of wrinkles around the eyes and a few parts that just weren’t as perky anymore. Were I to guess, I would have estimated that they were technically old enough to be mother and child, though the girl on the floor should still be moved out of the house. Kind of like me and Beouf or more appropriately Zoge and Ivy. Both wore mom jeans and light sweaters. The Helena Madra look. “Oh me too,” said the brunette with her Little in her lap. “It’s so easy for meals for me, Delilah, and Juni.” She gave the Little in her lap a light bob. I guessed that was Juni. “Anyway, this new one is apparently some sort of toy subscription box. They’ve got a section aimed entirely at Maturosis, you can choose how often you receive new boxes, and they even vary depending on what developmental stage your Little one is at.” “Brittany loves toys! Don’t you Brittany?” The plump Little girl on the floor did not look up from her cups. “Mmm-hmmm.” “She gets so engrossed, sometimes. New toys would be great, yeah. Save us a shopping trip.” She smirked. “And a tantrum.” The joke didn’t land. “Anyway, you were saying?” “The service looks really good. I did some checking around on different Mommy blogs. They’ve even been endorsed by Dr. Wolf.” Eyebrows were raised. “The Dr. Wolf! The one spreading awareness over there in Albienne.” She hugged the Little in her lap the way I hugged Lion and I worried for the smaller woman. She didn’t seem bothered, at least. “Oh wow, that sounds amazing,” the older of the Mommies agreed. “Yeah,” her younger compatriot nodded. “I’ll send you the link, I think we’re gonna try it next month for Juni. She’s so picky with toys, and this’ll help keep her mind interested.” “Mhmmm. Always important. Kiddos need stimulation to keep them healthy.” A few of the regulars I recognized walked hand in hand or were carried in with their fake parents. Mary, the Little with the pink hair came in with both jailors. Neither one had as wild hair as her or her younger-big-sister. The Middle-Aged Daddy couple, Donald and Carl came in with not only their Little girl but their Tweener daughter, too; Kylie and Joanie respectively (or was it Joanie and Kylie?). The Tweener was a good ten years older than me if she was a day and looked annoyed and put out to be there. Her black leggings with tie-dye polka dots did a less than serviceable job hiding the slight bulge from her disposable training pants and her hiking down her t-shirt was pointless at preserving modesty. Like a good prisoner she sat down in the chair next to her Papa and her Adopted sister stole her Daddy’s lap. Pockets of conversation and small talk were forming around the circle, slowly gaining momentum as more and more groups trickled in. Amazons conversed and their Littles quietly busied themselves This could have been another reason why Amazons Adopted people smaller than them. Small children get only the hobbies their parents select for them. Parents with similar hobbies get to meet and make friends with each other and force their children to be friends by proximity. An Amazon with a Little to coddle and cosset would never be short of playgroups and new friends. We were their socialization tool. Janet started gently bobbing her knee like she did when she had nothing else to do. The not quite subtle reminder broke me out of my own reverie. I looked up at her from her lap. “S-s-s-t-o-o-o-p.” I quietly snapped. “Sorry.” Janet whispered. “Sorry.” I ducked my head down. “Gods, I hate you.” The words came out as just a breath. “Hm?” Janet asked. “I hhh–” My breath caught in my throat. Damny monitor. “Nothing.” Janet wrapped an arm around me and leaned “Would Lion make you feel better?” He might. “No.” “Thirsty? Want some milk?” “No.” “Giving you some milk would help me. It’d give me a reason to keep my legs still.” Phrasing a request as a favor. A nice touch. “Still no.” “Just so we’re clear: Would you like Lion or milk or neither?” I grumbled to myself. “Both.” Both wasn’t an option. “Both?” Janet put Lion in my arms and sat back up straight. “Okay,” she sighed heavily as if I’d outsmarted her. “Okay Clark. You win. Both it is.” She turned me on my seat and laid me back against her arm so that she was cradling me and placed the bottle between my lips. I’d just been played and I knew it. I crushed Lion’s soft cotton reinforced sternum for what was likely the one-thousand three hundred ninety-seventh time since he’d come into my life. Thank goodness no one school was there to see me. Billy would never let me live this slip down. Slowly, very slowly, I pulled on the nipple with my lips, and sucked down the milk. No chugging this time. Chugging would lead to burping and cooing and stupid gooey praises, and talks about what kind of formula or milk was best. Right now I just needed something to do to dissociate and people watch without anyone talking to me. Being Janet’s prop for a few minutes seemed like a good choice. “You know,” Janet spoke up so that the first two giantesses could hear her. “My Clark loves his Lion, but so far not many other toys have really clicked with his developmental plateau.” I bit the nipple hard and got milk squirted in my mouth for the trouble. My Clark. My Clark! No. Don’t worry about it. Poor Lion got his neck wrung. I just kept sucking, focusing on the fatty milk and how it contrasted with the sterile rubber teat. I practiced breathing and swallowing in a slow and steady rhythm so that I wouldn’t have to stop one to do the other. It was almost like meditation. Damn I missed yoga. My tummy had come back in full force. I kept sucking. “Oh sure, Janet,” the woman who’d started the sales pitch said. “Janet! I’ll be happy to share the link with you too.” “Thanks.” “What does he like to do with his lion?” The girl in tights’s Mommy asked. “Is he a cuddler? Or does his lion make funny noises when he squeezes it?” My right eye twitched. Dumb giant wasn’t saying Lion’s name right. I could hear the lowercase ‘l’ when she said it. I just could. “What does he use his lion for?” Janet lowered her head. “Do you wanna talk?” she asked. I did not. I considered saying something awful or nasty- a zinger about me not so dry humping Lion puffed into the forefront of my brain- but my self-induced meditation was having a calming effect. Breathe deep. Focus on the task at hand. Get through this moment, Clark. Let it pass onto the next and the next until the one you want arrives. “He’s busy,” Janet reported after a decidedly awkward silence. I could feel her entire body heat up in embarrassment and I let myself untense, melting into her social awkwardness like a snake coiling up on top of a nice warm rock. The two giants chuckled politely. “How bout you tell us?” I kept sucking on the nipple. This will pass. This will pass. “Well,” Janet breathed. “I think he likes to play pretend. I sometimes see him whisper to himself and setting up different toys around his room just so. Last weekend I think he was setting up his classroom’s Circle Time.” That earned her (us?) a chorus “Awwwwww!” from the two giants, plus a third who was listening in. “That’s adorable!” “It…made me happy.” Janet’s body heat turned up a notch. “Kind of.” I just kept suckling. The girl who’d been messing with the stacking cups raised her head. “He’s pretty good at pretending. He was good at playing the heavy feather light feather game and he taught us all about Death Tag.” Battle tag, you loon! Battle tag! I suckled and kept breathing and I swear I felt Janet cool down slightly, just laying there in her lap. The other giants exchanged worried looks. “It’s like freeze tag but we scream and play dead like in the cartoons,” the girl on the floor said. “It’s fun.” The Mommies, Janet included, untensed. “Clark is very clever and creative,” Janet said. “He’s really good with kids and impresses me with how he can approach things from a different angle.” Damn. Just. Just Damn. No past tense statements like ‘always has been’ or qualifiers like ‘other kids’. For a second there I let myself pretend that she was talking about me-the real me- and not some imaginary baby she’d dolled up. “Okay,” the Mommy who could have been dating the Little in her lap brightened. “So he’s going to want stuff from the Imagination Vacation line. Stuff that’s a little more freeform that he can decide how he plays with it.” “Yes! Exactly!” Janet was so excited she accidentally bobbed me and some milk gurgled down my throat. My lips released the nipple and I started coughing. Poor Lion was caught in a sleeper hold. “Oops! Sorry!” She adjusted me so that I was sitting back upright instead of reclining in a cradle. I could tell she was doing her best to restrain herself from calling me any stupid pet names like ‘honey’ or ‘baby’. This was the best of a bad situation at the moment. I caught my breath and leaned back to take the nipple into my mouth again. Janet’s body immediately heated up again. “But yes,” she said to the Mommies. “Something like that sounds great. I think he gets bored easily, so being able to explore at his own pace and have some more control would be really good for him.” “I’ll hook you up with the link.” Great. Janet made a new Mommy friend. I rolled my eyes and kept sipping and watching the door to the meeting space. More and more semi-familiar faces trickled into the room and started chatting with each other. The Amazon and Tweener couple with their Adopted Little walked in. The Tweener wife didn’t seem at all disturbed that someone her size was in a Pull-Up and had reverted to playing dumb peekaboo games with her Little ‘sister’ so that she could feel big. The balding man who led the group and his shy Little took their usual spot near the top of the circle. “Hi Clark!” For once, Amy Madra didn’t get the jump on me. She screamed it out right when her Mommy carried her through the door. She was also in a long-sleeved romper; a lavender one with a hoodie. I suspected that if she pulled it up over her head she’d look like a teddy bear. The pair took a seat on the other side of Janet and Amy wasted no time catching me up. “Hiya Clark how are you I’m good you weren’t here last week you missed the animal parade it was so much fun I got to be the elephant I used a kazoo as the trumpetey noise elephants do I tried to stick it up my nose for biologitical authenticity but it wouldn’t stay and so I had to use my mouth like a fake elephant the kazoo was pretty dusty it hadn’t been used in like forever which was pretty bad but it did also kinda taste like peanut butter which was really interesting so it wasn’t all bad and then in the hallway you wouldn’t believe who was out there- ” “Amy, baby,” Helena Madra interrupted. “Your friend Clark is drinking his ba-ba right now. Let him enjoy it.” “Mommy!” Amy scoffed. “Rude!” “Yes,” Amy’s Mommy redirected, “it is rude to talk to your friend while they're busy eating.” “No,” Amy said, “I mean that Clark doesn’t like it when people…” Amy stopped. It looked like she caught herself. Then she covered her mouth and burpsed. “I would like some milk, too, please.” The pair were right next to Janet but were effectively behind me due to how I was positioned on her lap. I could still make out movements and tones. I heard a velcro flap open, and inferred it was Helena digging out a similar bottle to Janet’s. “Here you go.” I let go of the bottle and leaned my head all the way back so that I could at least have an upside down view of the exchange. “No,” Amy whined. “Not from there,” she pointed to the massive bottle in Helena’s hand. “I want it from there.” She reached up and grabbed the Amazon’s breast. I could feel Janet’s entire body temperature go up at least two degrees. I did not like the ideas that must have been going through her baby crazy head. “Amy,” Helena clucked, “this milk is the same.” “Nuh-uh,” Amy replied. “It’s different. It’s a texture and temperature thing.” “It’s not that different,” Helena said. “You still get Mommy’s milk.” Amy huffed and puffed. “Have you ever breastfed, Mommy?” “Yes,” Helena said calmly. “How recently? Hm? Did you take notes and surveys? Double-blind random sample?” “When I was very small. Like you.” “So what you’re saying is that you have no recent experience in this field, Mommy.” Helena tried to pivot. “I didn’t bring a blanket or anything to cover you up while you nurse,” Helena said. “I’m okay with that.” “I’m not. I have to consider everyone else’s comfort” “Mommy!” Amy gasped overdramatically. “Are you ashamed of me?!” “Baby girl. Drink.” “Yes, Mommy.” She sounded oddly happy, settling for the teat over the tit. Without further ado, she leaned back in Helena’s arms like I was with Janet, took the bottle and began to nurse from the bottle. Witnessing the exchange, I felt this weird tonal disconnect. So many of the words sounded like an argument Janet and I might have. Me trying to manipulate her and push her buttons to frustrate her, and her calmly trying to dismantle my argument before giving up trying to argue in anything resembling good faith and just asserting her authority. So familiar from the outside, yet strange and alien at the same time. The Mommy-Baby duo’s tone was relaxed throughout; playful even. Not an inch of frustration on either side of the exchange. Same lyrics but different notes; like a cover song that takes on a completely different meaning just by altering the arrangement and instrumentation. I tried not to think about it; or how there had been a time that Amy had been the terror of Oakshire Elementary’s Maturosis and Developmental Plateau Unit. She’d been enough of an obstacle that Beouf had flashbacks and even the therapists remembered her years later. I kept drinking from my bottle and focusing my attention elsewhere. Week by week the faces were getting more and more familiar. I honed in on the odd Amazon Tweener couple and focused on the wife. Unlike her peers who tended to put on airs of young, hip, with- it types, this woman dressed closer to the stay at home moms of a bygone era; one that maybe only existed on television. She wore a pearl necklace and earrings with her light brown hair up in a bouffant hairdo, but wore very little makeup otherwise. She had a floral print dress on that didn’t compliment her shape at all, making her look slightly dumpy, with stockings and heels on her feet. Mature and motherly, it was close to what Ambrose tried but failed to imitate, but not what most would consider flirtatious or sexy. Excellent camouflage for a Tweener; enough to broadcast herself as an adult, but nothing that would make an Amazon Mommy jealous and want to Adopt her out of spite. “We’ve had to have Caleb sleeping in our bed for the past three nights,” the Tweener woman who’d maintained her adulthood said to the dark skinned woman who’d wrangled a pair of ‘twins’. “That’s nice,” the dark skinned woman said. “Sometimes on the weekends we do one big family cuddle puddle. I get up. Change them but keep them in their jammies, and we all go back to my bed and nap before breakfast.” “Oh no,” the Tweener woman shook her head. Her pearl earrings jangled and her bouffant styled hair bobbed. “You don’t understand, Charlie. We took Caleb over to the Malkoviches for a playdate. Caleb gets to play with Riannon, Howard and I get some time to ourselves.” She thumbed back to her massive husband and I had a disturbing visualization involving the mechanics of marriage bed when one person is so petite as to be dwarfed by middle schoolers. The Amazon nodded. “Sure, sure.” “And it went well enough at first,” the Tweener continued. “But when John went off to cook dinner Alex also went to go work in their sustainable garden. And neither told each other… I think you see where I’m going.” “Oh dear,” the Amazon looked to her twins protectively. “Is he okay?” “John thought Alex was watching the babies. Alex thought John was watching the kiddos. And since it’s Spooky Month on G.U.T.V, John decided to watch a scary movie on his phone.” The other Mommy sucked in her teeth, already connected the dots. “However he didn’t realize he pressed the wrong button so that it was automatically being simulcast to the TV in the living room.” “Didn’t he hear the screams?” “Headphones,” the Tweener answered. “So the entirety of dinner preparation time, we’re not sure how long, but probably an hour and a half, they watched an entire scary movie instead of Cherry the dog. They’ve already apologized so much, and I feel even worse for their Little one. I hear they’re taking Riannon to see someone because she won’t go near the bathtub anymore without crying.” “Bathtub?” “Ghosthaunters Two. The scene with the Mommy getting her Little ready for a bath and…” “Ooooooh.” Caleb sat quivering in his Daddy’s lap, fighting sleep and startling himself awake while the big man tried to tenderly nudge him. “We wanted to stay home,” the Tweener Mommy said. “But Caleb begged us to come. He says it’s safe here.” “What happens when you try to put him in his crib?” “If he’s awake he starts screaming about a ‘Ghost Nanny’ coming to get him. And he starts bawling and saying things like ‘Not again’ and ‘I can’t go through it again’.” “Poor dear. He must be thinking of that scene in the movie.” The Tweener nodded. “Little kids have such a hard time separating fact from fiction.” Idiots or delusional maniacs. I knew that movie. I’d bet good money that Caleb got snatched up by some grabby Amazon with a carriage. It’d be the same as me freaking out inside a glass elevator. Poor guy was having flashbacks. If only I still had money… “Okay everybody,” the balding man said. “I think it’s about that time. Let’s begin.” They sang that stupid ‘We’re All Together Again’ song. Two dozen voices give or take and not one of them could harmonize with any of the others. I still had about half of my bottle so Janet didn’t bob me up and down. She just held it to my lips and sang the opening hymn, getting that rush of belonging. The leader looked around the circle. “Alright then,” he chuckled. “Welcome everyone. It looks like we have nothing but familiar faces. Am I wrong?” No one corrected him. “Just in case, does anyone want to re-introduce themselves or their Little kiddos?” I resisted the temptation to make an ass out of myself. I just had to get through the first half so that the real work of the second half could begin. I’d use the bottle and Lion to shield myself from tummy tickles and lap bounces and just be a blob in Janet’s lap for however long it took. Simple as that. “Okay then,” the leader nodded. “We’re going to break with our usual format today.” I stopped suckling. A break in the usual format was bad. I needed the usual format. Around the circle, Littles on laps or couched between ankles exchanged worried looks. “Don’t worry, kids, you’ll still get your playtime. It’s just the first half of tonight is going to be different.” I relaxed with the rest of my otherwise mindfucked peers. “We’ve got a guest speaker tonight. Depending on when you came in you may have seen her waiting in the hallway.” It was then I noticed that the door was slightly cracked open. “Some of you might remember her from past meetings, she comes two or three times a year to share with us.” I had the worst possible feeling. I kept suckling and pulling the milk into me. Maybe I could chug it and throw up. “Some of you kids might remember her because she used to be your teacher.” That confirmed it. I didn’t need to know that he was looking at me when he said, “Some of you might have her as your teacher right now. Please welcome, from Oakshire Elementary, Mrs. Melony Beouf.” The applause of nearly thirty giant hands and their idiot Littles copying them and cheering for Beouf opening the door and speed walking to the front of the room sounded to my ears like shotgun and machine gun rounds being fired into the air and the bleatings of sheep happy to go to the slaughter. On any given day, Melony Beouf chose function over form. If she couldn’t bend over, crawl around, get on the floor with or chase a Little while potentially covered in any number of stains, she didn’t wear it. The only exceptions to this rule were when she had a scheduled teacher observation or if it was the annual Staff Photo (not to be confused for Picture Day). Beouf was dressed in teacher formal attire, with makeup and perfume on. Her white blouse with frills up the front went up the front, complemented the lipstick red blazer and skirt as well as the matching flats. Over her shoulder was a tan colored tote bag that I couldn’t see what was inside it. Sick grandbaby my ass, Melony was here to put on a show. The bottle was still between my lips. I plugged the tiny hole in the nipple with my tongue and glared up at Janet. This was the reason why she got us here so early; she didn’t want me seeing Beouf in the hallway. Janet didn’t smile down at me like a happy idiot who just sprung a pleasant surprise. Nor did she threaten me with talks of ‘good choices’. She shifted me up off her lap and brought me close to her shoulder like she was about to burp me. “I made her promise not to make a scene,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.” Also, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Back down into her lap I went, and I crushed Lion all the harder while slowly very slowly, I accepted the bottle and started to drink. Much slower this time. The full feeling in my stomach and the practice I’d given myself still left me relatively calm. I was angry on an intellectual level more than an emotional or physiological one. Still, I would spit all over her and then cry my eyes out like it was spit up if Beouf gave me half an excuse. Beouf took center stage, near the beginning head of the circle. “Before I begin,” she said, “let me please introduce myself. My name is Melony Beouf and I teach The Maturosis and Developmental Plateau Unit at Oakshire Elementary, otherwise known as ‘The Littles Class’.” A slight and polite chuckle followed. “Oakshire Elementary’s unit is one of only two publicly funded programs in the entire county, and based on the number of plaques I have at my home from various county, state, and national Maturosis teaching and research organizations, I am very, very good at my job.” That earned her some appreciative nods and murmurs. I knew what the other school was and why she didn’t say it. “I have a Master’s in Early Childhood Education,” she went on. “and a Bachelor’s in Child Psychology with a minor in Maturosis and Developmental Plateaus.” That minor was as valid as the cold stickers that got sent home with my schoolwork. “I’ve been doing this for many many years; I’m not gonna say how long because that’ll just make me feel old.” More polite laughter. “Let’s just say that looking around the room, when I first started teaching, some of your Little one’s were probably still in diapers the first time around.” That got a round of genuine laughter. I looked around and scanned the faces of the other Littles. A few slight blushes, and hiding behind hands, but those same rosey faces all had bashful grins. Most seemed completely unphased by the reminder that there was a time when they were adults. We were in the cult of Little Voices and tonight’s sermon was being given by the Right Good Reverend Melony Beouf. I knew right then that any attempt I might make would be instantly thwarted and turned back on me. A small classroom with Littles who hadn’t been completely broken in with two familiar Amazons and a decade worth of quirks, shared experiences, and procedures to exploit was doable. A meeting of close to fifty or sixty people and the Little to Amazon ratio being close to one to one and no one having a problem with this madness but me? No chance. “To put it simply, my job is to help Littles who have experienced full-blown Maturosis come to grips and learn to embrace who they are, as well as to educate their Adoptive parents on what the most up to date research tells us about the condition and the people living with it so that we can meet their needs the best way possible.” The Tweener Mommy started clapping…and was the only one. She stopped. Someone was trying too hard. Beouf wasn’t thrown. “So in a way, if I’ve worked with your kids, I’ve always worked with you. And I’m not their teacher, but also your colleague. As Mr. Clemmons,” she gestured to the balding man who ran the meeting, “already said I am a big supporter of Little Voices and I love their message very much. So I do my part every now and then I come to talk to both Littles and their Mommies and Daddies. And to be clear, some of the things I’m going to tell you are things that for various different reasons, the school board would rather me not talk about in a classroom setting. So I am a teacher, but I am here in my capacity as an advocate and someone who participates in research. Is that clear?” Silently, everyone that mattered to Beouf nodded their heads. “I’ll talk to the Grown-Ups more in depth later, but for now, if it’s okay and they feel comfortable, can I have all the Little boys and girls come and sit up front with me?” My cult narrative took on a more direct comparison. Littles came up in one’s and two's while Beouf coaxed them forward. “That’s right,” she said in her higher birdlike teacher voice. ”Come on. Don’t be shy.” It was just like the ‘Children’s Moment’ at so many churches. The Littles started to clump together and crowd into a tight knot. “Okay, okay. Maybe be a bit shier. Too close, sweety. Okay. That’s right. Yes. Better. Spread out a tiny bit. Give each other some room. Muuuuuch better.” In the meantime, someone had taken a spare folding chair and passed it so that Beouf had a place to sit. There was no way she was making it to the floor dressed as she was. Janet made no attempt to ask or nudge me off her lap. Beouf placed her tote bag down beside her, and took a seat. “Hello everyone!” “Hi Mrs. B!” “Hello, Caleb!” “Hi Mrs. Beouf!” “Hi, Danny!” “Hello!” “Good to see you again, Cindy.” The hi’s and hello’s bubbled up and overlapped each other until Beouf raised both hands. “Okay okay okay. Hold on, boys and girls. Let me get this out of the way. Raise your hand if you want me to say hello to you and when I do put your hand down.” Tiny hands shot skyward. Beouf took a massive, cartoonishly exaggerated breath. “Hello, Kylie, Marie, Sammy, Caleb, Brittany, Elisa, Marissa…” she kept listing names off and hands dropped. Littles staying by their parents’ sides also raised their hands. “Hello, Cesily, Bea, Paul, Juni, Amy…” She rattled off their names without fail. By the time she was done, only five or six Littles kept their hands raised. “Now you all I don’t think I’ve met. Tell me your names and I promise to remember them next time.” They did and she greeted them, and reiterated her promise. I knew perfectly well that she’d keep that promise. I had a habit of letting past students fade into memory; most teachers did. Beouf had such a mind for faces and names that she could have been a politician. Come to think of it, she kind of already was. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Beouf said and got another knowing chuckle from the assembled cultists. “I can teach and remind you about some very important things to keep you safe and happy. Is that okay?” That received a resounding “Yeeeeeah!” From the assembled man and woman toddlers. This was the kind of class Beouf wanted, and by the end of most years, it was close to the class that she got. That made me shudder and some extra milk flowed into my mouth with the spasm. “First off,” Beouf said, “I’m going to ask what I hope is a silly question. You know your Mommies and Daddies love you right?” “Yeah!” Her point was punctuated with some giggles. “Yes, of course they do,” Beouf agreed. “That’s why they Adopted you and take care of you the way that they do. But not all Grown-Ups want what’s best for you. Some Grown-Ups think that just because you’re not a Grown-Up anymore, that means they should get to decide how you act and think and feel instead of letting you be yourselves.” I silently agreed with her, though obviously not the way she intended. “That’s silly!” One of the brainwashed masses piped in. “Yes it is silly,” Beouf replied, “but it can also be very dangerous. What these people will do is they will find things that Little boys and girls like, like cartoons and songs, and hide messages in them.” “Like a secret?” Beouf pointed at the Little suck up. “Yes, like a secret. But it’s such a secret, that you don’t even remember hearing it, but your brain does.” She tapped her forehead for emphasis. “And your brain remembers things even if your ears and eyes forget. And if your brain gets too many of these secrets for too long, it can change you.” She waited to see if anyone would take the bait and ask how. This time no one did. “These secret messages will change you so that you forget things, or make it harder to talk or make you can’t talk at all. Or it might make you laugh when you really wanna cry. Sometimes they make it so that you can’t say naughty words or think naughty thoughts.” “Why is that bad?” A parent asked. The glares he got made him slink down a pariah. “Hypothetically, I mean.” “I’m glad you asked that, sir.” Beouf saved him. “The answer to that question has two parts. One is that Little, Tweener, and Amazon brains pre-Maturosis are nearly identical, but these hypnotic suggestions affect us all equally, giving rough simulations of Maturosis’s effects. Someone experiencing Maturosis may be falsely diagnosed and given care that they don’t need and that’s unethical.” There was so much irony here it was beginning to cave Lion’s and my chest in. My ex-mentor proved that she couldn’t read minds and kept talking. “The allowance of these materials also weakens the argument and research going into Maturosis by promoting a false narrative. If there are some people who aren’t actually experiencing it but are being exposed to post-hypnotic conditioning, the argument can be made on the entire system, and we know that’s just not true and our Little ones need our help. The second big reason is that even if a Little has been correctly diagnosed with Maturosis, hypnotic cartoons and songs do more harm than good by implementing knee-jerk uncontrollable behaviors in people as well as blocking what would be otherwise natural and normal responses.” The message wasn’t quite landing, it seemed. “Let’s just do words. Imagine having a word taken away from you. Not that you forgot about the word, you just can’t use it. And every time you try to say the word, you accidentally say another word or you can’t say anything at all. You can feel the word, you know the word, but there’s a magical wall stopping you from using the word. Some hypnotic and subliminal programs do this.” She paused for effect. “Some do more and make it so that you can’t think about the word and every time you try it gets replaced with another word that you know is wrong but your brain won’t give you another word and even if someone tells you the right one you can’t use it. Now imagine it’s more than just one word. Imagine it’s several words. Imagine it’s every word that someone else doesn’t think you should be allowed to say…” The mood chilled with Grown-Ups and Littles alike throwing each other worried yet comprehending looks. The Amazons only conceptualized it and were disturbed. Some of the Littles no doubt had experienced it first hand. More amazing was that Beouf and Janet weren’t choking to death on their own blatant hypocrisy. Ever the teacher, Beouf looked down at the assembled Littles. “In other words, hypnosis is like spanking your brain, and Little Voices does not support spanking of any kind.” Solemn nods all around the cluster of forever children. “Fortunately,” her tone became more upbeat, “I always have several students in my class each and every year that let me know all of the words and I am positive their parents don’t use hypnosis or subliminal messaging!” That got the crowd back. Amazons laughed behind their hands and a small amount of Littles quietly exchanged high fives and fist bumps. She reached into the tote bag and put some old DVD’s in her lap. “Parents and Littles, the best way to protect yourself and your kids is to update and educate yourself on what does and does not contain subliminal messaging. There is a popular show making a comeback called Carpet Mice. Do not watch it. Ever. It has nothing but hypnotic suggestions in it and neither I nor anyone else have found a clean broadcast of it. If you go to LittleVoices.com you’ll find an entire list of shows and sometimes even networks to avoid. With all of these streaming services, there’s a lot of bad actors out there.” “What about Mint’s Hints?” A Little piped in. “Or Cherry?” Beouf smiled and nodded. “Good question. For the most part, shows like Cherry, Mint’s Hints, Helga Hogg, The Muffet Show or Muffet Littles, are completely safe. They’re made with good intent and safe for children of literally all ages. But,” she added, “you should always be on the lookout if a show has a warning or a disclaimer in the beginning or any part that asks a Grown-Up to leave the room. If there’s something on T.V. that the people making it don’t want your Mommies and Daddies to see, there’s something wrong with it.” “Another way to tell is if you overhear a lot of specific talk about diapers. Real children’s cartoons don’t worry too much about potty training or diapers. They already assume the child needs them and doesn’t care, or is mature enough not to need them, and doesn’t care. Yes most Littles who experience Maturosis lose their potty training anyways but if there’s one hypnotic command, there’s at least ten more. Be. Aware.” I’d forgotten what a good speaker Beouf could be. Watching her was hypnotic in its own right. My bottle was now down to the last quarter and I’d barely even noticed because I was so morbidly fascinated with the mix of helpful warnings that every Little parent taught their child and absolute contradictory bullshit. She cracked open a DVD case and took out a pair of ear plugs and what looked like flimsy 3-D glasses. “Some programs even have special ear plugs or glasses that filter out the commands so that a Grown-Up can make a Little feel secure and trick them into watching. A lot of these things people can buy on the internet. A lot of this is still, sadly, legal in many places and where it isn’t people will often look the other way until someone makes a big enough stink about it.” Beouf continued her presentation by holding up the two identical DVD cases, both Helga Hogg. “The safest thing to do is to get a DVD of your child’s favorite cartoons and just play that. A streaming service can be compromised or edited. A DVD will be the same every time. Just be sure of the distributor. I got both the ear plugs and the sample glasses from the DVD case in my left hand.” She returned her attention to the so-called children. “So boys and girls, if a Grown-Up ever wants you to watch a cartoon or listen to a song with them and they put something in their ears or something over their eyes, you need to do everything you can to stop yourself from watching or listening.” The Littles, used to being well behaved dolls looked generally confused. “What do we do?” “Cry. Scream. Yell.” Beouf kept ticking off on her fingers. “Cover your ears and close your eyes. Throw up if you need to. Try and bop the Grown-Up on the nose. Anything that makes it so you don’t watch or listen to what they want you to watch or listen to.” An Amazon politely raised her hand and asked. “But what if it’s a mistake? A babysitter or someone who works at their daycare?” “I would rather a Grown-Up get their feelings hurt, or get angry and call you to help sort it out than an innocent Little girl or boy have something taken away from them via hypnosis.” She crossed her arms over her chest, giving the statement a note of finality. I wondered if she was really campaigning so hard against the stuff because more hypnotic suggestions would just put her out of a job. Quickly, she took out a pair of headphones and held them aloft. “‘Before we move on, I also just want to mention something called ‘Music Therapy’. This is literally just slapping a pair of headphones with hypnotic suggestions over someone’s head and then leaving them in a trance for a couple of hours.” “DO IT CUZ MOMMY SAYS SO!” Bradley screeched in terror on his Mommy’s lap. “I LIKE TO PEE MY PANTS!” He was hyperventilating and crying just at the sight of the prop. Beouf had the decency to put them out of sight and the poor ex-New Beginnings inmate calmed down. “Now that we have that over with,” Beouf said, “that first part was for both the Littles and their parents. This next part is just for the Littles. Don’t worry, Grown-Ups you can stay.” A few nervously got the joke. “Who knows what Stranger Danger is?” All the hands in the room shot up, save mine. I was not participating. “Okay, Cindy,” Beouf pointed to the pink-haired woman who was probably almost as old as she was. “Tell us.” “Stranger Danger is when someone who is not your Mommy or Daddy or teacher or family wants to take you away forever because they want to hurt you.” “That’s right, honey. Good job.” She leaned out and gave Cindy a high five. Beouf had taken the day off and was now getting rewarded with her dream class. “When you were younger, you were probably told that there were strangers who would claim to know your mother and father or get you to come with them by offering candy or asking you for help looking for a puppy and that they wanted to hurt you, right?” A smattering of ‘yeah’ and ‘uh-uh’ and ‘yes’ came in reply while others mutely bobbed their heads. “That can still happen,” Beouf told them. “But other times, strangers will try to trick you by telling you things like you’re really a Grown-Up or that your Mommy and Daddy don’t really love you, and you should come with them to prove that you’re not a baby.” She paused and scanned the floor for signs of dissent or incomplete programming. She found none there and so went on. “Those people are also trying to trick you and take you away from your Mommies and Daddies and you’ll also end up hurting. You’ll hurt not only yourself in the long run but also your Mommies and Daddies.We don’t want to do that, do we?” The chorus of affirmatives changed course and melted into ‘no’ and ‘nuh-uh’ and the quiet but obedient shaking of heads. Typical mindfucked dolls. Someone was curious enough or childish enough to ask “Why?” “That’s a complicated question that I think has a lot of answers,” Beouf said with all sincerity. “Some of them are bad people, because there’s just bad people in the world. I think a lot of them though are people who just don’t understand or have been lied to about Maturosis or think they’d be helping you if they kidnapped you and took you away from your family.” And once again, the pot without a trace of self-awareness deemed the kettle black. “So unless you know them or they can prove that they know your Mommy or Daddy, don’t go with them and do more of that screaming, and crying stuff. It’s okay if you’re trying to protect yourself and it’s all you’re able to do. Nobody will be mad, I promise. Okay?” “Okay.” most said together. Melony reached back into her tote bag and pulled out a stack of wooden blocks, no doubt borrowed from her own classroom. “Don’t get too excited, kids.” She said, “I’m using these as a teaching tool. Not for playing.” “Can we play with them after?” Amy called from her Mommy’s lap. Beouf didn’t even have to look up. “Yes Amy, you can if you want.” “What about Jess-?” The bottle went back into Amy’s mouth so she couldn’t finish and her Mommy quietly shushed her. I finished draining mine and accidentally let out a tiny yawn. Beouf started stacking the blocks one at a time in a single column. “This next part is both for parents and their Little ones. As with everything else tonight, I’ll talk more in depth with the Grown-Ups after you kids go play, but they deserve to hear part of this too. It’s going to be a tad uncomfortable for some people hearing what I’m about to tell you, and that’s okay. However it is my professional and personal opinion that everyone needs to hear this talk at least once. More than anything else, this is the part that I’m not supposed to talk about. I need everyone to be brave and as mature as they can be for what I’m about to discuss. That goes for you Mommies and Daddies, too.” The laughter had dialed back down to polite with a touch of nervousness. I pushed the bottle out of the way and squirmed back up into a sitting position so that I wouldn’t accidentally fall asleep. What could Beouf need so much warning to talk about? She’d already discussed the topics hypnosis and abduction (including reframing Stranger Danger as a way to prevent Littles from escaping). What could be more controversial than that? She pointed to the column of blocks she’d made. The blocks, I noticed, were numbered and in sequential order, bottom to top, from zero to five. “This is how people grow up,” Beouf said pointing down to the bottom. “First we’re zero, then we’re one, then we’re two.” Her finger traveled up the column. “And every year we go up and up and up, and another block goes on the stack. I’d stack them higher, but I’m not very good at stacking so you’ll have to use your imaginations.” Her hand rose up to the sky tracking invisible blocks of much higher numbers. “But the thing is, we never really stop being zero, or one, or two, or three. It just gets added on to. Everybody in this room is a one or two or three or four or five. Their block tower is just a lot taller and they’re on the top.” “And we’re on the bottom!” A suck up yelled a bit too happily “Don’t interrupt, Cesily.” Beouf wagged her finger at the lady who I’d seen get dangled gleefully from her ankles at my first meeting. “Everyone has a tower that they’re mind is on top of, but deep deep down, they’re still zero, and one, and two, and three, and four. It’s just that when your tower gets really tall, it takes some reeeeeeeally big thoughts and feelings to reach all the way up from the top of the tower to all the way down to the bottom of the tower where the part of you that is zero and one and two and three are. It’s hard. But it can happen. That’s why Grown-Ups can still cry. Or be silly. Or make bad decisions that if their parents were still around they’d be put in timeout for.” “Or pee and poop?” Beouf ignored the comment and kept going. “When you have Maturosis, it’s different.” I puffed air out of my nose and readied for her to knock the tower to shambles. I think many of the audience guessed the same thing. If that’s true, she surprised a lot of us. Instead of knocking the block tower over, she carefully grabbed the top and bottom of her column, squeezed the tower and flipped it over so that the zero was at the top. “When you have Maturosis, the tower flips over.” She took a final block, a six, and quickly picked up the tower to slip it under as the new base. “And new blocks get added to the bottom. You’re still twenty or thirty or forty or fifty or a hundred. The tower of who you are still grows and grows and grows. It’s just that the part of you that is zero and one and two and three is always at the tippy top with you.” My tongue rolled out of its mouth, unbelieving what I was hearing. “So when you have Maturosis, you’re always feeling and thinking those thoughts you did when you were a baby-when you were zero and one and two and maybe even three-but the part of you that is twenty and thirty and forty, is still there. It just takes a looooot of work to get to that part of you. And sometimes that work is so hard that you just can’t, and that’s okay too. It starts feeling wrong, just like when it felt wrong to wear diapers before you needed them again. That’s what we call your Developmental Plateau.” This. This explained so much. It didn’t make it any better. It didn’t undo anything. But it explained so much about why Beouf acted the way she did. She’d succinctly summarized her own delusions. She really was a great teacher. She had more for me. “The term plateau is misleading however. A plateau is usually a piece of high flat ground. Your Developmental Plateau isn’t necessarily completely flat. Just like how some people can be very good with math and others are better at reading and writing, a plateau can vary from person to person. Some of you are more shy and need sensory play. Others need different levels of personal interaction. Some can walk. Some just crawl or like rolling around on the floor. Some feed yourselves. Some like to be spoon fed. A lot of you still talk the same as you did before. We’re all different.” It made perfect sense if you didn’t stop to think about it. The Amazons, clearly, weren’t thinking about it. The other Littles had bought in or were completely numb to it by this point. Why did this part get the warning, though? “That’s why,” Beouf said, “We need to take a few minutes to talk about romantic feelings and sexual arousal.” “EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” Faces scrunched up, mouths fell ajar, pacifiers popped into mouth to cover embarrassment and hands waved and heads shook as if. “I told you it was gonna be icky,” Beouf laughed, “but this is something you should know about.” She waved her hands in front to try and regain control. “Stop. Stop. I’m not going to embarrass anyone or ask any questions. No hand raising required! All you have to do is listen.” It certainly didn’t win them over, it got everyone to quiet down. “You might be living like zero or one or two or three year olds,” she said. “But your bodies and parts of your minds are still adult. So it is very possible, maybe even likely, that at some point since you got Adopted, you’ve looked at somebody or thought about them in your crib, and you started getting funny feelings like you did back when you were a big boy or girl.” The pacifiers and thumbs were popping in at a record pace. People were doing their best not to die from embarrassment, just from the idea that they might have sexual feelings. Beouf certainly noticed, but she kept talking anyway. “These feelings might make you want to kiss someone, or hold their hand, or touch their diaper or have them touch yours.” “EWWWWWWWW!” “Hold on! Hold on!” Beouf laughed again, her own ease being semi-contagious. “I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just stating aloud how some of you might be feeling sometimes, and to tell you…that it’s perfectly natural and okay. Some of you sometimes might not even be thinking about anyone. You might just feel a certain way, or like how your diaper feels, or be bored or something. Happens all the time!” She quickly added, “And if you don’t ever feel that way, that’s okay too. I’m not telling you how to feel.” The silence grew as Beouf took in a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m just saying that if you do feel that way, it’s perfectly natural, and you should talk to your Mommies and Daddies about it.” She looked up and out to the assembled parents, shifting in their seats. I could tell who’d heard a version of this talk before and who hadn’t based on body postures. Everyone was uncomfortable, but some were distinctly less so than others. I think my fellows were more uncomfortable, because it was them that were being talked about. I suddenly realized how long it had been since I’d had sex, which of course made me think about Cassie, which of course made me feel a level of melancholy that even a full belly and calm breathing couldn’t starve off. Not completely. “Parents,” Beouf said. “Mommies and Daddies: Believe me. If your Little boy or girl has these urges you need to talk to them about it. Short of something unethical, there is nothing you can do to prevent it, and babies of any age like to explore their bodies. All these Little ones are doing is rediscovering themselves. We’re okay with it when it comes to the cute stuff, we have to be okay with it when it comes to the things that aren’t so cute.” My ears wanted to fall away from the sides of my head out of disbelief. Beouf was openly encouraging masturbation among Adopted Littles. “If you don’t talk to them about it and find a way for them to do it safely, they will find a way to do it in a way that will probably embarrass you and cause you problems you never considered when you Adopted. My rookie year of teaching I lost more stuffed animals to nap time humping than I dare admit.” Every word was coming out almost like a chant with each one standing straight up and refusing to touch the other, much like the gaggle of Littles on the floor were slowly but steadily spreading out from each other. The collective blood was rushing to every Little’s head, mine included. Just hearing all this said out loud was awful. Sex was normally a touchy enough subject for some of us; anybody really. Reminding us that Littles lost out sexual autonomy was insult enough. Telling everyone that those urges and feelings still continue no matter what was almost cruel. The Amazons weren’t digging it either. Picturing their so-called babies adding something to their padded underpants that wasn’t urine or feces was distinctly unpleasant. I think I wanted to talk about sex to Janet all of a sudden… “You would rather them do something in their crib with the baby monitor off or in the bathtub right before you pull the plug than start rubbing themselves in public or rubbing up against each other at daycare. I’m not going to name names, but I’ve got at least two students in my class with very strict parents, and if I didn’t pretend not to notice a few things, I’m pretty sure the Little darlings would just explode!” She added sound effects for levity, and it worked, gaining a few good natured belly laughs from those assembled. Billy and Annie were such exhibitionists they’d be proud to be called out like this. One Little was brave enough to raise their hand and ask “How?” “That I can’t tell you, darling. That’s something you’ve got to talk about with your Mommy or Daddy and figure out what works for all of you. I’ll go into more detail and options with them,” Beouf pulled a phone out of her bag. “But that’s almost my time. Let’s split up so the kids can play, and I’ll get down to some more specifics and nitty gritty with the adults.” She stood up to a rousing round of applause, even greater than when she entered and the Littles all scampered back to their parents, some of them hugging them as if they’d been separated for years and not just a few awkward and tense topics. Janet stood up and shifted me so that I could ride on her side and still look around. “I appreciate you,” she said, and left it at that. I’d been a good Little baby, apparently. Fuck it. Whatever. I had real work to do soon. I was not meant to escape Beouf entirely. “Hey Janet, hey Clark.” “Good talk,” Janet said, because of course she would say that. “Thanks. We’re not done yet, sister. You’d be surprised the kind of questions that come up in the second half.” Janet laughed. “Great. Let me drop Clark off, and I’ll meet you back here.” She bounced me slightly as if I hadn’t been paying attention. “Do you want to say goodbye, Clark?” I think all three of us knew the answer to that. Sometimes Janet and Beouf could be masochists. “No,” some of Beouf’s shine left her. “That’s fine. He doesn’t have to.” “He’s kind of droopy tonight.” “Sick?” Beouf asked. “I don’t think so. Just full” She held the empty bottle that she hadn’t slipped back into the diaper bag. More curiosity blossomed over Beouf’s brow. She pointed to the empty container. “Goat’s milk or…?” “Goat’s milk.” Janet said. “Goat’s milk.” “Okay. Drop him off and come back. We’ll have a chat.” “Roger!” Janet walked me to the playroom. I started doing my best to wake up and get my blood pumping. It was fitting in a way that Beouf was here tonight. She’d started her indoctrination routine in the first half of the meeting. Next would come mine. Chapter 93: Little Voices: “Clark Says” Janet took me into the Community Center’s playroom and put me down. A quick check between my legs and she was satisfied that I was “Good to go”. She leaned forward to give me a kiss, but hesitated and pulled back. I must have made some kind of face. “Bye, Clark. See you in a bit.” She left while a few of the more sentimental Mommies and Daddies did their own variation of a goodbye ritual- theirs much more affectionate- and then left to go get pro tips from one of the greatest manipulators in the game whose last name didn’t use to be Gibson. The bottom half of the dividing door was officially closed, locking us all in together. Of special note, among the playroom guests were the diapered Little Kylie, her Pouty Pull-Upped ‘Big Sister’ of a Tweener, Joanie, and both Daddies, Carl and Donald. I forgot which one was which, but one was sorting through the enormous bundles of diaper bags that the supervising Grown-Ups toted around, and the other was already busying himself pulling back waistbands, patting bottoms, and generally eyeballing crotches for signs of oversaturated swelling and sagging. This wasn’t ideal. I felt a twinge of sympathy when one of them asked the Tweener whether she had to go potty or not. The woman’s cheeks lit up like a searchlight. They only got worse when he went on about how it was okay and accidents happened and they packed diapers “just in case she needed a break”. Obviously, the Tweener wasn’t used to being confined to padded underpants. She was probably being gently punished to remind her of her place in the same way that I’d been disallowed anything that hid my diapers. Either that or ‘her Maturosis was getting more pronounced’ (read: her Daddies were gaslighting themselves and her to the point where she was getting Little levels of mindfucked). The decent part of me hoped it was the former. I shouldn’t wish that slow descent into madness on anyone, save perhaps a select few Amazons. Even I got my pants back. The awful part of me quietly rooted for the latter. Watching a Tweener brought down to my level could be darkly satisfying, and it could be useful to have access to a bigger mindfucked baby. “None of your friends from school or playgroup are here, honey.” The big man prattled on. “Your sister and her friends won’t care, either. They all need diapers, too. You’ll still be our big gi-” “Daaaaad!” the Tweener shrieked. “Staaaahp!” She gently huffed off to my usual sulking corner far away from the changing table, leaving the big man gently shaking his head like a patient yet frustrated parent. He went back to checking Littles, not asking beyond saying “Excuse me, Little fella” “Hold up, babydoll,” or “Juuuuust checking.” This was not ideal. Two diaper obsessed giants instead of the usual one, and a pouty Tweener squealer. Two and a half times the number of authorities to involve and distract, and neither of the Daddies seemed to be the type to get actively involved with the pretend-children beyond basic maintenance and monitoring. The changing table was right by the door, too. A Grown-Up would only have to turn their head to the right to see someone being too close to the door for comfort. Definitely not ideal. The only thing that could have been less ideal was if Janet were present. These circumstances could be good though. If my exit strategy could work around two no-nonsense Daddies and a Tweener that could turn traitor, it could work around anybody. I hadn’t noticed any pattern or heard anything about a rotation on who got monitor duty, but common sense told me that the Amazons wouldn’t consciously hog or clog up playtime privileges. Every one of them wanted to be here on some level and frequent repeats would be noticed. Getting these guys out of the way helped me. I wasn’t going to get out tonight. Not even close. I had so many other steps to take and trials to endure. This was only part one. Every journey home had to start with a single step. Every tunnel to freedom started with a single spoonful of dirt. Showtime. “Okay everybody!” I yelled out in my best carnival barker impression. “Step, crawl, and roll up! We’re playing ‘Simon Says’.” In bits and pieces, people turned to see me, curious expressions forming. Curious, but not taking the bait. A handful put down the rental rag dolls and abandoned the ancient Speak-and-Says, but most had pause and disinterest. Murmurs of “Simon Says” started to make their way around the room. They knew what it was, because of course they did; the real thing is they weren’t in a mood to play it. Simon Says wasn’t Battle Tag or Light Feather Heavy Feather. Time to up the ante. “Step right up and gather round!” I repeated. “If you don’t want to play you can take a seat and cuddle up with your favorite stuffie and enjoy the show!” More looks were exchanged. Promises of a show were reeling them in. Simon Says wasn’t Battle Tag, but like the pudgy girl with the stacking cups said, I’d brought Battle Tag to this place and mastered the art of Heavy and Light. I was a known asshole and pouter who hadn’t yet accepted their take on the truth, but I could be fun when it suited me. Tonight it suited me. “If I go ten straight rounds without eliminating someone, I lose!” “What happens if you lose?” the white haired kid asked. Damn. They wanted stakes; why wouldn’t they. They weren’t really simple babies. Oh well. “Good question, Denny.” “Danny.” “No, sir, I’m Clark.” I lifted my head and continued to project. “Step right up. If I go ten rounds in a row without eliminating someone, I lose and everybody who beats me can make me say ONE THING EACH!” If cushioned socks and light up sneakers were hooves, the room would have sounded like a stampede. “That’s right, Folks! Anything you want! I will confess to being a big stinky doo-doo head or tell the world that I’m really a pretty pretty princess from fairy land! I’ll even say naughty words!” The resulting gasp of surprise and shock sounded like a cheer to me. Meanwhile my heart was thudding in my chest. I’d said it. I’d actually said it! The Daddy who’d put himself on diaper checking duty was well within my line of sight. He didn’t look upset, but he was far from pleased with this announcement. Oh what a rush. “Clark…?” He’d never spoken to me and thus didn’t feel confident in saying my name at first; afraid he’d somehow misremembered ramblings from Janet. “Clark, buddy. I don’t think that’s appropri-” “You don’t have to say the word yourself!” I yelled over him. “You can just tell me to say a naughty word and I’ll pick. You’ll be blameless!” Daddy number two sounded a bit more firm. “Clark. That’s a really bad choice. I think it’d be a good idea to change that last part about the swearing.” First spoonful of dirt or not, such compromise would not do tonight. I could have chosen or invented any number of games that the daycare crowd would approve of. For my purposes and needs, Simon Says was important to me. Minimal rule explaining, and it gave me complete control of the narrative. I spread my arms wide and turned slowly in a circle. “Of course since I’m such a scamp,” I bellowed theatrically, “if I am forbidden from playing the game at least once I shall tantrum like no other and say ALL the naughty words I know. Possibly invent a few by pairing them with funny sounding breakfast dishes!” I held up an index finger to the second Daddy. “But!” I proclaimed. “If any Grown-Up can defeat me, I will yield and take naughty words off the table.” I stood sideways so that each was in my periphery. One Daddy looked at the other. Playful, cocky smiles were exchanged. “You wanna Don?” “Sure, Carl. Let’s play with the kids.” Amazon arrogance at its finest. Real adults didn’t make bets with children. Good thing there were no actual children around. Beouf had had her moment to spew her brand of crazy. We’d fight tomorrow, I was sure. Here? Now? I was the ringmaster, this my circus, and I had more monkeys under me than just the ones decorating my underwear. “Hi Clark!” I looked down and saw my favorite nutter. “Hey Amy,” I said. “You playin?” She closed her eyes and waggled her head. “Naw. I’m counting.” I flashed a winning folksy smile, and gave her a thumbs up. It was the same kind of gesture I might give to one of my students or their parents when first meeting them. Amy and her ilk were much less frustrating when you didn’t expect that much out of them. “Thanks, friend! Keep me honest!” “Yup yup.” From her spot on the floor she copied me. “Someone’s gotta.” The hell did that mean? “You don’t want to get in on the action? Make me say something embarrassing?” She scooted backwards on her butt while the crowd got in place. “Naw. You kinda do that enough on your own. No offense.” “Some taken.” Her smile was so soft and sincere that I genuinely couldn’t tell if she was fucking with me. Now I had to fuck with her back. I wanted her to play. “Yeah, but you could make me say anything,” I prodded. “You could make me talk about how I looooove being a baby or that I miss my Mommy whenever she’s out of the room or something.” I made my voice as silly and mocking as I could to get the pitch across. That alone got a few who were on the fence about playing in the game. Again, I couldn’t quite read Amy’s expression. It’s like she had something to say, but thought better of it; not a trait that I’d associate with Amy. What she did say was “If I want I can make a kid give me their prize at least half of them owe me something you’d be surprised what can be found and traded for favors at daycare.” I felt myself shudder. Knowing Amy, such treasures were likely dust and lint covered and at one time had been edible. ‘Fair enough.” “Also I want to give you a chance to win. I like you, buddy. Good luck.” I twisted my mouth up and felt my eye twitch but said “Thanks” anyways. Unnecessary though it was, I cupped my hands and started my spiel anew. “Okay, listen up everybody! The game is Simon Says. The rules are simple, everybody knows ‘em, but just for review: When we start playing, if I say ‘Simon Says’ and tell you to do something, you do it. If you don’t do it, you’re out. If I tell you to do something without first saying ‘Simon Says’ and you do it, you’re out, too. If you’re in the game, you stand or crawl or sit here.” I gestured to the area where everyone already was. “If you’re out,” I continued, “you move off to the side and join the audience. Amy is keeping track of how many rounds I go without eliminating someone. Ten in a row I lose.” I turned my head briefly to the (for now I hoped) gathered Littles that were watching instead of playing. “Audience, if you catch someone that I miss, call ‘em out on it. Players, if you get called out, be a good sport and join the audience. As fun as this is, it’s still just a game.” I gestured to myself. “As for me, I’m going to be tricksy, but I’m going to be honest and play square. It is my job to lie to you and misdirect you, but I will never cheat by telling you to do something that you are physically incapable of doing. If I say ‘hop’ but you’re a crawler and can’t hop, you’re safe. Same with doing something impossible like licking your own elbow.” Right on cue four or five of my players experimented to find that no, they could not lick their own elbows. “I also won’t ask you to do anything to anybody else like lick your neighbor’s elbow.” That got the appropriate amount of smirks, snickers, and giggles. Even the Daddies hid their smiles behind the palms of their hands. This was going great. “Likewise, ‘Simon Says’ only counts for direct commands, not questions. I can ask a question or say something to you and you’re allowed to talk back.” I paused and directed my gaze over to my favorite sulking corner. “Hey big kid!” I shouted. “Do you wanna play?” Collectively well over a dozen heads looked behind them, turning the poor girl into a deer on the highway. The Tweener who’d been standing in the corner slunk down and hugged her knees “I’m good…” she said just loud enough for me to hear. “Cool!” I regained the class attention. “And if she were playing, she wouldn’t be out. That is unless of course, the last command I had given was ‘Simon Says no talking’.” General head nodding all around. This part wasn’t about explaining rules as much as it was developing a rapport with my newest batch of suckers. I took in the tiny crowd and noticed Amy rubbing her tummy with one hand and patting the other. “Oh, and yeah, every ‘Simon Says’ cancels out and overrides the ‘Simon Says’ that came before it. So if I say ‘Simon Says rub your tummy’ and then I say ‘Simon Says pat your head’, you stop rubbing your tummy and start patting your head. But if I say ‘Simon Says pat your head and rub your tummy’ you gotta do both.” I flashed her another thumbs up. Thanks, Amy.” “Hmmm?,” she looked mildly startled. “I just wanted to see if I could do both.” Yeah, that figured. “Okay, I think that about covers it,” I said. “So with that out of the way, we are now playing Simon Says as soon as I finish this sentence.” I took a quick breath. My throat was dry, both from talking and from nerves. Now or never to see if this strategy might yield fruit. “Okay, so everybody understand the rules?” There was nodding and verbal affirmations. I swatted at my ears as if their replies were buzzing gnats. “Whoah whoah whoah! Guys! Sorry! My bad! Too much talking all at once! Let me try it another way. Raise your hand if you understand the rules.” Almost half of the hands playing went up. “OH NO!” Amy laughed. “GOTTEM!” The wry smile on my face was completely genuine. Too late it dawned that they’d been duped. “Simon didn’t say. Gotcha!” “Oh gosh,” Daddy number two said. “Carl!” Carl flopped his head in defeat. The Tweener in the corner’s eyes lit up with surprise and joy. “I’m an idiot,” he growled at himself. “Oooooooooooo!” The Littles cheered and jeered and snickered. Even ‘idiot’ was a naughty word to these dolls. I thumbed to the side like a hitchhiker while rambling like an auctioneer. “Outtamygame, outtamygame, outtamygame, outtamygame!” The first round of victims walked and toddled to the side. “I can’t believe that worked!” I crowed. “Can you guys?” Stony silence was my reply. I played at being exasperated. “Friends! Friends! Guys! We already established that unless I say ‘Simon Says no talking’, then it’s okay to answer my questions. So can you believe they fell for that?” I waited and let the silence work for me. One…two….three….four… “No,” “Yeah. Me neither!” My smile got even wider. “Outtamygame, outtamygame! I just said ‘Simon Says no talking’.” “Kylie!” Amy said. “Bea! C’mon! We’ve practiced for this!” Two Little girls trudged off my impromptu playing field. In two moves I’d eliminated half the players. “Simon Says you can talk if you want.” I said. “Pretty tricky, huh?” “Yeah.” “Uh-huh.” “Yessir.” Oh I needed to hear that more than I’d anticipated. “Okay, since we’ve already gotten a lot of people out, how about some of you in the back come a little closer to the front?” “Bradley! Buddy! Nooooooo!” The dark haired whipping boy of fate blushed and then waddled off. “Mommy says…Darn it…” He plopped himself down next to Amy and she patted him consolingly on the back. I felt kind of bad picking on someone who’d been put through New Beginnings. At least he was getting some words back. Enough false starts. Any more and they’d pay too careful attention and I only had so much time. “Simon says touch your head.” I demonstrated the action, half a second later the Littles and remaining Amazon copied me. One finger on Amy’s right hand went up. “Simon says touch your shoulders.” I modeled. They quickly copied. Two fingers. “Simon says touch your knees.” Again. Third finger. “Touch your toes.” I didn’t move. Neither did they. Four fingers. “Simon says touch your toes.” I modeled. They copied. Amy had an entire hand unclenched. “Simon says touch your ears.” Six fingers. Four left. “Simon says touch your nose.” Seven. I whipped my hand over to my shoulder. “Simon says touch your elbow.” “Don!” Carl laughed. “What are you doing?” The last remaining Amazon and three other Littles were all touching their shoulders. My thumb came out. “Outtamygame, outtamygame, outtamygame, outtamygame! I said Simon says touch your elbow. That’s your shoulder.” Amy was incredulous. “You guys! Seriously? You are out of practice.” Her fingers all curled back into her fists. Funnily enough, I agreed with her. Beouf’s daily brainwashing didn’t beat your mind down until submission. Quite the opposite. It sharpened and rewarded it and taught you to talk to yourself as if you were an Amazon. It encouraged you to think outside the box and make arguments that didn’t make sense and accept nonsense as if it were obvious fact. Beouf didn’t want her Littles hypnotized into submission. She wanted our minds sharpened to the point where we could reject our senses. Some of these inmates had never had Beouf, and those who had had long gotten used to activities that assumed you were a baby, instead of exercises designed to trick you into tricking yourself. Back at school, I could trick Billy and maybe Sandra Lynn. I’d have to work for every other victory. Ivy? I could dupe Ivy once and then her competitive streak would kick in and she’d destroy me. To hear Amy’s reactions, I might not even get that one time out of her; not with only ten strikes. Tonight I had a bunch of toddlerized adults in front of me with not an Ivy among them, and Amy was sitting this one out. “Now things are getting good!” Don scoffed and looked like he wanted to say something nasty. The idea that they’d been tricked by someone they considered a baby was hurting the Amazons’ pride. They whispered something to each other that I couldn’t pick out. They’d also dug themselves a hole by agreeing to play my game. The other cultists might not like it if they agreed they’d let a baby swear. I needed to play it cool or I’d have another Sosa/Winters incident on my hands; on accident no less. “Don’t worry Mister Kylie and Joanie’s Daddies,” I boasted. “I’m not gonna lose.” That didn’t go over with them as well as I’d hoped. Two sets of evil eyes were trained on me. “Hey, Clark?” Amy said loud enough for all assembled to hear. “If you lose, what happens if the Grown-Ups tell the good kids not to make you say a bad word?” On pure reflex I shrugged. “Nothing I can do about that,” I answered. I wasn’t going to lose, though, and I didn’t care if I did. The two Daddies turned towards each other, however, and nodded in satisfaction. Amy had just given all three of us an out. Funnily enough, I might have been the only one to realize it. As subtle as I could, I placed my fist by my thigh and flashed her a thumbs up. She nodded but kept her hands balled up, ready to count up to ten. Right. The game. “Simon says give me a clap.” CLAP! We all brought our palms together in unison in a single thunderous clap. “Simon says two claps.” CLAP-CLAP! I build up a rhythm. “Simon says clap” CLAP! “Simon says two claps” CLAP-CLAP! “Simon says clap.” CLAP! “Simone says two claps!” CLAP-CLAP! My thumb came out. “Outtamygame, outtamygame, outtamygame, outtamygame, outtamygame! It’s Simon Says. Not Simone Says. Simone Says doesn’t count.” More grumbling but shuffling off. A bare handful left and a crawler among them. “Simon says jump up and down until the next legal command.” They all hopped up and down on their feet, bouncing like Kangaroos. There was so much movement and crinkling that it sounded like a radio stuck between two different stations. “Hey,” the white-haired kid called up. “When do we stop?” “You heard me,” I replied. “But she’s not jumping,” another Little pointed to the crawler, the blonde girl who’d been munching on berries in her Mommy’s lap from earlier. “She doesn’t have to,” I said. “That’s not faaaaair!” I spread my arms wide and indicated all around. “Who said this was fair?” The crawler beamed cheekily. I was letting her win for now and she was enjoying it. “Noooo!” the white haired kid whined. “She’s cheating!” No. I was. “How?” “Juni can walk!” came the reply from the cup stacker girl from the audience. “She’s faking!” The berry eater stood up. “Brittany!” she yelped. “I was winning.” Her diaper visibly resisted coming up with the rest of her. “She was probably pooping and got stuck,” the white haired boy said. He was still jumping, so the revelation came out in bits and spurts like he was on a galloping horse. “Juni always gets on her hands and knees and pretends to be really interested in something on the floor when she poops.” “Danny!” the girl shrieked. “I’m gonna kill you!” “What?” Brittany giggled. “That’s why your Mommy was giving you all those berries, wasn’t she? You probably just started pooping when he was doing rules stuff and finished after he started.” Juni’s face flushed nearly the same color of pink as the juice that still stained her lips. “Brittany!” I held in my laughter and bit my knuckles. That cheeky bitch! That poor cheeky bitch! She almost got away with it too! “Outtamygame!” One of the Daddies, Carl, stepped around behind her and pulled back. “Yup. Let’s go, Juni” His husband quick-stepped over to the diaper bags while Carl carried an annoyed Juni over to the changing table. “Okay folks,” I said. “Nothing to see, eyes on me.” I looked to my contestants who had been bouncing around for the entire exchange. “Okay guys, my bad. You can stop.” All but one stopped. “Out! Of! My! Gaaaaaame!” One or two tried to start jumping again like I hadn’t seen, but jeers and callouts shamed them into the fold. Only one remained. “Okay Derwin,” I said. “Simon says stop jumping.” He stopped. “It’s Danny.” His voice was strong. He wasn’t even close to winded. He was focused and had been blending in the whole time. Unblinking. Focused. Ready for any trick. I had one left. Time to wrap this up, and I thought I knew how to do it. “Simon says touch your nose.” My arm touched my ear. His went to his nose. One. “Simon says jump!” He did precisely one. I’d put no modifier. Two. “Give me a clap!” I was the only clapper. Three. “Simon says two claps.” CLAP-CLAP! Four. “Simon says clap!” CLAP! “Simon says two claps!” CLAP-CLAP “Simmons says clap.” Nothing Five, six, and seven, respectively. The white haired kid did not smile. He did not sneer. He was in the zone. I double checked Amy’s fingers. “Okay. Simon says clap!” CLAP! Eight. “Simon says give me two claps!” CLAP-CLAP! Nine. “Simon says Daryl give me half-a-clap!” Together our hands started the clap, but froze half way in a fakeout. “Gotcha!” the kid said. “Half-a-clap! And the name’s Danny!” I stuck out my thumb and jerked towards Amy. All previously popped fingers were curled back up. “That’s right. My command was for someone named Daryl. Not you, Danny. Out! Of! My! Game!” The white haired kid fell down to his knees and yanked at his snowy locks. His screams of anguish drowned out by cheers while I took my bow. “Well played! Everyone! Well played! Who wants to go again?” The ranks formed up; soldiers ready to attack. I strolled up to my final patsy. “So, no lie: I’m tired and need a break. Dobson, do you wanna be Simon?” The white haired kid leapt up and got right in my face. “No!” he barked. “I don’t wanna play stupid Simon says!” I held my breath and leaned back. Everyone else was frozen. Even the Grown-Ups, fresh from freshening up Juni looked momentarily stupefied “But we can play ‘Danny Says’.” I stuck my hand out. “Deal!” He shook it, flashed me a cheshire grin like he’d won something and took over. “Danny Says…” I took my place in the audience beside Amy. All eyes had been on me. Now they weren’t. “Outtamygame! Yeah! Danny!” “Good job, Clark.” “Thanks Amy. I play a mean game of Simon Says.” “Yeah. Pretty good,” she agreed. “That’s not what I was talking about, though…” A terrible thought rampaged through my brain: “Amy?” I whispered. “You haven’t ever tried to break out of a place like this have you? Or your daycare? Or Beouf’s? Any place where their job is to treat us like kids?” Amy ran her tongue between the gap in her teeth while her eyes meandered from side to side. “No. Why?” Her fingers were still managing to keep track of ‘Danny Says’. “Outtamygame!” “No reason,” I told her. “Just wondering…”

NOT A DIAPER SLICK..... Goodnites Nighttime Bedwetting Underwear, Boys' XL (95-140 lb.),

This is the end of the main story. I would like to know what you think about it. Would you like me to write a bonus chapter to complement the story? Thanks for reading and for the feedback. CHAPTER 6: THE SENTENCE The courtroom seemed more spacious than Mark had imagined, but perhaps it had to do with the fact that it was almost deserted, except for two female police officers, one on either side of the room. They walked to the front and took a seat. Mark strained his eyes to read the judge's name. Her name was Angela Cooper. "Hopefully she'll be here soon," he thought, "I want this to be over as soon as possible." However, the judge took several minutes to arrive. He looked to either side, trying to distract himself, while the prosecutor and his “mommy” talked about trivial matters. Mark noticed that the two officers were annoyed, probably because they had to stand around so early in the morning. They were signaling to each other and seemed to be reading each other's lips, but he couldn't understand the messages they were conveying. He wondered if they knew about his secret. Maybe it was only a matter of time before they found out. Just as he started to feel the urge to go to the bathroom, a side door opened and a man's voice announced the arrival of the judge. Along with her entered a young woman with black hair tied in a bun and a laptop computer under her arm. She was the typist, the one who would write down everything that was said in the process. It was no time to ask for permission or a break. He had to hold on and be in attendance. His future depended on Mrs. Cooper liking him. She was not as old as Susan, but rather appeared to be in her early fifties. She had brown hair and wore a black robe following the judges' dress code. She was lightly made up and wore pearl earrings. She looked like a lady as strict or even stricter than Susan, and that impression scared him a little. "Good morning, your honor," the prosecutor said and Mark hurried to copy her. The judge returned the greeting but then suddenly changed her formal tone to speak to Ms. Susan. "Oh, how are you? I've always wanted you to come visit me at work, my dear." They chatted for about two minutes, which seemed to irritate the lawyer who began to review her notes. The conclusion Mark was able to draw was that Susan and the judge knew each other from spending several vacations in the same location and staying at the same hotel. The informal chat ended. Judge Cooper stood up and said, "We are here in family law court to hear a criminal matter. Is that right, attorney? Could you explain why we are here and not in another type of court?" This new information was surprising to the failed burglar. They were in a family court, as if this was about parent-child affairs, not criminal matters. Why? The blonde lawyer cleared her throat and said, "Honorable Judge Cooper. You have years of experience in family law, so I have come here to present to you a deal I have made with the defendant. It is an unprecedented deal that will bring him closer to social rehabilitation instead of wasting time and resources in a dangerous and overcrowded jail. Our main objective is to obtain justice for society, not to punish". "And what is this deal about?" "You see, your Honor. In this case we could be talking about 8 years in prison. The defendant broke into a house with intent to steal, plus he is connected to a very dangerous gang. In addition, there was a burglary, the proof of which is right in front of our eyes." The lawyer pointed to the pants and sweater Mark was wearing. He wanted to protest that he had only taken those clothes to protect himself from the cold, but technically she was right: he had taken them without permission. He had no choice but to keep quiet for his own good. The lawyer continued: " Despite these aberrant facts, there are special circumstances about the defendant that invite me to think that it is better for him to remain under the care of Mrs. Susan here, to take care of him and rehabilitate him as an adult citizen so that he can be reintegrated into society". The judge leaned forward. She seemed to have taken a keen interest in the case. She asked, "And what circumstances are we talking about?" Mark feared what was about to happen, but there was no choice left. The prosecutor explained, "the defendant...has presented signs that he needs care." She paused, as if she couldn't believe what she was about to say, "apparently over the last few days he began to pee and poop all over himself, leading to the necessity of wearing diapers and needing to be changed. All this in addition to other things, such as eating baby food". The typist, who up to that moment had been typing at the speed of light, could not help but burst out laughing. The police officers had to cover their mouths so as not to be heard. The thief didn't need to look in the mirror to know that he had turned red. What was more remarkable was the surprised expression on Judge Cooper's face. Evidently Susan had not told her all the details. Perhaps this whole idea had come from the old woman's mind, and not from the lawyer's as he had first thought. The judge thought for a minute and said, "I would like to see the young man rehabilitated under the care of a competent woman like Susan, but I can't just let his crimes go by. I will need to be convinced that he really needs to wear diapers like a baby and that he's not faking it to avoid jail time. Otherwise I'm going to refer the case to criminal court." The attorney assured her that there was sufficient evidence, including witnesses, to prove the circumstances. So that's what it all boiled down to. A little humiliation and convincing the judge that he didn't deserve to be locked up in a cell. He figured it wouldn't be that serious. When they got out of there he would deal with Susan. She wouldn't want to babysit him for almost a decade, would she? It didn't make sense. Surely they would find a way out. The elderly woman was called to the stand as the first witness. She began to relate how it all started: "I caught him when he came in to rob me. You should have seen his scared little face when I pointed the rifle at him. He peed all over himself without resisting. It was obvious to me that he shouldn't wear boxers if he couldn't keep them dry". She was really enjoying being the center of attention. After this first part of the story, the prosecutor exclaimed, "Your Honor, Exhibit A". From the same side door through which they had entered before, a man came out with a pair of clothes wrapped in nylon: they were his pants and his boxers. Mark thought Susan had thrown them away, but no, she had kept them to use as evidence later. Susan shared some embarrassing details about giving him a baby food and then said, "oh, but the best part is the diaper changes. You should see him lie still waiting for me to put powder on him and close the new dry diaper. It brings him so much relief. That's why he falls asleep so quickly in his crib after each change." The rest of the women in the room turned to look at him, trying to picture a grown man lying on a changing table. Mark was already redder than a tomato. But that wasn't all: "And I remember one time he asked me to open the bathroom door for him but he couldn't hold it and wet himself. If that's not proof that he deserves to be treated like a baby, I don't know what is." Mark tried to fight for his dignity even if it was counterproductive. He stood up and shouted, "That's because you were late on the phone! Otherwise I would have made it to the bathroom." Mrs. Cooper swung her gavel and exclaimed, "young man, close your mouth and wait for your turn". The defendant had to keep his mouth shut again, at the risk of ruining his only chance. All this talk about peeing himself only reminded him of the urge to pee he had at that very moment. After his "mommy" finished, he thought they would call him to testify and wrap up the trial, but he wasn't the next witness. The courtroom door opened and "aunt" Rose walked in. She had a teddy bear with her. She sat on the witness stand. The prosecutor asked her: "Miss, were you the one who called 911? Why?" Rose smiled and replied, "oh, well, I didn't want Mark not to run away. Babies can't walk at night alone, it's too dangerous. But my goal was to make sure he didn't leave without his teddy bear. Look here," she pointed to where the teddy had been broken, "I repaired it for him." She looked at him and said, "Come, here's your teddy bear, sweetie. Come, I fixed it for you." He stood up and walked to the stand. He grabbed the stuffed animal and said, "thank you so much Aunt Rose." There was a general "awww". When the burglar returned to his chair he heard the prosecutor say "he's so cute". It was probably the first time in history that a prosecutor had ever said such a thing about a defendant. Rose told some details about what she had experienced at Susan's house, such as when she had to help bathe him. The judge thanked her and she left. "Now it's my turn. I need this to be over," Mark said to himself. But to his surprise there were still two witnesses left before his time came. It was the two officers who had caught him on the street. First, it was the turn of the fair-haired woman, the driver of the patrol car. "I couldn't believe it when I saw that he was wearing diapers. They looked so cute," she said. Then came the brunette woman, the one who had pinned him to the ground: "I noticed at first that he was walking funny. Then I realized it was because he was wearing a diaper. You could say he was walking like a baby who is still learning." The prosecutor asked, "Did he seem dangerous? To which the police officer replied: "no, not at all. I don't think he represents any danger. He belongs more in a nursery than in a penitentiary". The prosecutor asked, "did he seem dangerous? To which the police officer replied: "no, not at all. I don't think he represents any danger. He belongs more in a nursery than in a penitentiary". She couldn't help but laugh as she looked at him. Mark could imagine all the cops at the station making fun of him for the years to come. At last, after so many humiliating testimonies, he would have the opportunity to speak. Even if he really wanted to pee, he didn't want to risk asking for a break. He thought the judge was practically convinced not to send him to criminal court. He didn't want to risk her changing her mind during the recess. He left his teddy bear on the seat and took the stand. But it didn't go as smoothly as he thought it would, because the judge looked at him and said, "I'm not so sure about this. There is no precedent for this, and I can't give you special treatment. So you're going to have to convince me that you need to be under the care of a responsible adult. Do you understand?" The defendant nodded repeatedly. Ms. Cooper asked, "Do you intend to go back to stealing or be part of a gang?" Mark shook his head emphatically and spoke, stammering a bit from nerves, "No, of course not. I'm a good boy." He looked at Susan instinctively. She smiled and nodded, as if reaffirming the description he had given of himself. The judge asked him about his experiences under Susan's care and what he liked best: "I liked... everything. everything. The food was very good," he exaggerated. "And is it true that she had to change your diapers like a baby? Tell me about that. Mark heard the typist's laughter return. He consoled himself with the thought that he would soon be out of that room and out of that building. He plucked up his courage and began to describe the changes: "I feel so good when Mommy changes me. I don't like being wet." "Ah, yes? And do you also do number two on your diapers?" asked Mrs. Cooper. "I can't believe we're talking about this. And there's going to be an official record left, too," thought the burglar in frustration. But at that point he had only one more small effort left. This was no time to turn back. "Yeah yeah, I really liked it when Mommy Susan wipes the poop off my bottom." He couldn't believe those words had come out of his mouth and were now being typed into a computer file. "Hopefully this will suffice," he thought. But there was still curiosity left inside her Honor. "I need you to stand up and pull down your pants. If you really are a baby in need of care then you should be wearing a diaper right now, right?" Mark obeyed the judge. Now his diaper was in plain view for all to see. Her Honor continued, "What are you wearing?". Mark could only answer the obvious, but out of embarrassment he did so in a very low voice: "I'm wearing diapers, Your Honor." "I need you to say it louder, so we can officially write it down," she replied. He repeated the same thing louder, wishing he never had to utter those words again: "I'm wearing diapers, Your Honor!" "And why do you need to wear diapers?" she asked. "Because I pee and poop on myself." "And who does that?" "Babies. Big boys don't need diapers." The whole session that day was pointing to this moment. The judge asked, "Do you like being a baby and having Mommy Susan change you?" Mark couldn't take it anymore, between the stress and the urge to go to the bathroom. He felt his pee starting to escape, but before it was visible he shouted, "Yes, I like being a baby and being changed, I like it !!!". He started to cry. Tears streamed down his face as a stain formed on his diapers. "Don't worry, sweetie, Mom brought her bag in case this happened. When we get out of here I'll change you, ok?". It was Susan's voice, but it sounded far away, like it was coming from another courtroom. The burglar was very confused and distressed. He didn't quite understand how he had ended up in this horrible situation. The judge had no more doubts. She cleared her voice and swung her gavel to attract attention. She stood up and ruled: "I declare that the defendant Mark Jones will spend the next 8 years under the care and responsibility of Mrs. Susan here present. Periodically every year a review will be made to see his progress, at the risk of having to put him on criminal trial if he is disobedient or if he attempts to escape again. This session is over." Everyone from the judge to the prosecutor seemed satisfied with their work. After all Mark was not really dangerous but had committed several mistakes all at once. Now he would be treated according to his behavior. His now official "mommy" pulled up his pants and escorted him to the ladies room. Luckily they didn't run into too many people and the restroom was deserted. She asked him to lie down on a large changing table and he complied. He had no choice but to obey for the next eight years. Mark was left naked, waiting for a clean diaper to be placed on him. Mrs. Cooper came in to wash her hands. As his mommy cleaned him with wet wipes she came over and said, "He sure is a beautiful baby, huh? Take good care of him, Susan. I wouldn't want someone so sweet to end up in a gang or in jail." She turned to him, and speaking to him like a baby said, "it's not true that you don't belong with those people? Of course you don't." Susan and her new "baby" took a cab home. Just before they closed the car door one of the police officers who had been guarding the courtroom came over and handed the teddy bear to Mark: "You almost forgot it, sweetheart. Be more careful next time." Susan thanked her for it and the return trip finally began. They arrived home. Mark was startled. There were a lot of people coming in and out of the house. What was going on? They went inside and up the stairs. They headed for the nursery. The old crib had been removed and now there was a new, adult-sized crib. The same change had occurred with the changing table. And there were sure to be new and bigger versions of everything else. Mark couldn't believe that all of this would be his life for most of the next decade. He began to protest, as a last resort: "Susan, please, we can negotiate something. I can work for you, anything." But she wouldn't hear of it, "No. I don't want to hear of it. I have the duty and the right to take care of you for the next eight years. And it's obvious from what happened in court today that you're not ready to go without diapers yet. So get used to it. It's for your own good, sweetheart." The former wannabe gang member gave up. There was nothing to do. He would have to get used to this lifestyle. Maybe it would be better to start with the right foot. Pretending to like it all, so he could get his sentence reduced for good behavior. He had to hold on to some hope. "Mom, I'm hungry," he said to Susan. "Come on downstairs sweetie, I'm sure you're going to love your new highchair. I called earlier today to have it delivered, while I road in the patrol car. Let's go see if they've brought it already. If not, I'll give you your mush on the couch in the living room". She took him by the hand and they went downstairs together, as they would do many times from that day on. THE END

goodnights are pullups not diapers

Chapter 39 Danny woke up and quickly Mama Angela came up into his nursery. “Hello, my little boy let’s get you up and changed,” she cooed at him. Danny found himself being carried to the changing table and as had become routine he found his legs up and his bare bottom and private areas exposed. Something was different about this change though. When the new diaper was taped on Danny realized it was thinner than what he had been wearing so far. Mama Angela noticed that Danny noticed the difference and decided to explain it to him. “Those old diapers were a lot thicker,” Mama Angela explained. “They are designed to not allow the little to walk or stand easily. They are perfect for when you are injured, sick or sleeping, but you are going to be walking around tonight so I put you in diaper that is a little thinner. Don’t worry it is still nice and fluffy and will hold any kind of mess you make.” Danny was then carried downstairs and allowed to watch tv while Mama Angela prepared some things. As she left the room, she gave Danny a warning. “Please stay on the couch. We will be walking as soon as I take care of a few things, do not put yourself at risk before then. If you do, we will not be walking today.” Mama Angela doubted her threat was needed but with the thinner diapers she still decided it was the best course of action. The last thing she wanted was Danny trying to be too independent and hurting himself. He might not think of how much it could hurt getting off the couch and taking that impact with his leg. Danny nodded. He had no intention of trying to get off the couch himself. If his leg is injured the last thing, he needed was the impact from jumping off the couch. Eventually he would but not today. Soon after Mama Angela and Ashley entered the room. Angela was relieved to see that Danny was still on the couch. “My good boy,” Mama Angela praised. “Are you ready to try standing.” “Yes,” Danny said excitedly. He had not been on his feet since getting to this dimension he wanted to get back to walking and running. “Yes what?” Mama Angela decided to play it up now when she had the leverage over Danny. “Yes Mama Angela,” Danny replied. “Then up we go,” Mama Angela said smiling at her little victory. She picked Danny up and positioning him so that his feet were above the floor and slowly lowered him to the ground, so he was standing but she was actually carrying most of his weight. “How does this feel Danny,” Mama Angela asked. “Feels fine no pain,” Danny replied. “Good,” Mama Angela cooed to him and let his legs take a little more of his weight before checking in on him again. This continued until Danny was standing without Mama Angela’s assistance. Danny felt no pain in his leg just standing. Ashley was in the room for Angela’s sake. Ashley agreed to watch Danny and intervene if she saw any signs that Danny was in pain. Angela picked Danny back up and made sure that the first time was not the only time he could stand without assistance. She put him back down and still Danny felt no pain. “Okay Danny,” Mama Angela said with a nervous tone. “Do you want to try to walk?” “Yes please,” Danny replied ready to walk again. “Okay,” Mama Angela said as she grabbed both of Danny’s hands putting them over his head. “We are going to try five steps sweetie ready.” Danny was a little annoyed by her feeling the need to assist him but let it go. “Ready,” he responded. Danny attempted to take the first step but even in a thinner diaper he was still thrown off balance by the bulk between his legs and would have fallen without Mama Angela’s support. “You okay sweetie,” Mama Angela asked concerned. “Yeah, just need to adjust to the diaper,” Danny said. Mama Angela looked over to her wife to see if she had noticed anything. It looks like you need to work on balance,” Ashley noted to tell Angela what happened. “Yeah, think I got it now,” Danny replied. “Okay,” Mama Angela said. “Let’s try again.” Danny walked or more toddled since the diaper through off his balance. He was able to take five steps without too much pain. “How do you feel,” Mama Angela checked on Danny. “I am good,” Danny said ignoring the little bit of pain he was feeling. “Okay then,” Mama Angela said. “Let’s try going ten steps then over to Mommy Ashley.” Danny once again waddled along with Mama Angela holding his hands. Ashley was watching and noticed after the seventh step Danny winced. She realized he was in a little bit of pain. Not too much but enough that he should be done after this. Danny finished the walk over to Mommy Ashley. “How did that feel,” Mama Angela asked. “Felt good,” Danny lied. “Okay that is great let’s go back to the couch,” Mama Angela said. Ashley walked over to the couch so that she could continue to watch Danny’s face more to see if he was in pain or if it was just one bad step. Danny walked over keeping his face straight, but he did have a little pain in the leg, but he had fought through a whole lot worse pain. They made it 15 steps back to the starting point. Mommy Ashley just had a feeling that he was in pain and decided that she would have to intervene. “I think you did well,” Mommy Ashley intervened. “That should be enough for right now. I need Mama Angela’s help cooking dinner” She winked at Angela so Angela would realize why she was intervening. Angela realized why Ashley intervened and wanted to know what Ashley saw and how serious she thought it was. She placed Danny back on the couch and turned the ball game back on. “Same thing sweetie. Getting off the couch might hurt you so stay there.” Angela joined Ashley in the kitchen and began helping her with dinner as they talked in a hushed tone, so Danny did not hear. “What was happening that you decided it was done,” Angela asked. “He started wincing once,” Ashley said. “I doubt he did any damage to his leg, but he definitely had some discomfort.” “Do you think walking today was too much?” Angela asked her wife. “No,” Ashley replied. “I think it was more just fatigue after not being used for so long. Let him rest it a little more and he should be fine walking.” “Alright,” Angela said still a little worried. “I will talk to him about this later tonight.” She wanted to see if Danny would be honest about it with her. “Okay,” Ashley said as she continued cooking. Angela went back into the living room and sat down and watched sports with Danny. Once dinner was ready Angela moved him to his highchair and fed him dinner then she took him back to the couch and sat him on her lap facing her. “Danny, I need you to be honest with me,” Mama Angela started. “How did your leg feel when you were walking? Was there any pain.” “The pain was not bad,” Danny said honestly. “I have fought through a whole lot worse.” “Okay,” Mama Angela said. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how bad would you say the pain was?” “3 or 4 I guess,” Danny told her. Angela felt that Danny was being honest with her but wondered if her 4 and his 4 would be very different. From his past both as an athlete and the beating that got him sent here that his 10 would be an insane amount of pain. “Thank you for being honest with me,” she said as she pulled him into a hug. “Are we going to walk again later,” Danny asked. “Probably not,” Angela admitted. “Why don’t we play some games instead and tomorrow morning we will do some walking before going over to grandmas.” “Fine,” Danny said a little upset that his honesty led to an undesirable result, but he needed to keep observing and learning. Mama Angela went to the games she got him today. She picked out connect 4 and it looked normal to Danny minus being a 16 by 16 board and the pieces and board were much bigger. “Ok sweetie,” Mama Angela said. “Why don’t you sit on my lap so you can actually reach the board.” She did not wait for him to answer before sitting down and putting Danny on her lap. “Ok you pick your pieces and go first.” Danny noticed 4 colors of chips red, blue, white and black. Danny picked red and Mama Angela picked white. Danny got the first connect four easily. They played a few more before Danny realized he was winning because Mama Angela was letting him win. They ended up playing about a dozen games win Mama Angela only winning three times, once that Danny thinks she won so he did not realize she was throwing it to him, one that Danny purposely lost and a third where she seemed surprised, she won when Danny pointed it out. “Ok Danny bath time then a bottle and bed,” Mama Angela told him after the final game. Normally Mommy Ashley had been bathing Danny but this time it was Mama Angela giving Danny his bath. She put the bath toys in and then stripped him and put him in the tub. She encouraged him to play with the bath toys which he did halfheartedly until he realized the rubber duck, she had gotten in the set shot water. Danny decided to risk it and while she was not paying as much attention sprayed her with water. Her reaction was just a smile, and she began washing him. The difference between his two caregivers was clear by how they bathed him. Ashley was all business only talking to Danny if she needed him to do something and otherwise staying silent. Angela on the other hand was cooing at him and giving him praise the whole time even when washing areas that embarrassed Danny. She finished and gently dried him before putting him into a new diaper and pajamas. She took him downstairs and gave him a bottle of milk before putting him to bed in his crib. An hour later she came in to check on Danny and found him asleep. “Good night, Danny, I know you do not believe it yet, but I love you!” She said as she left the room.

Chapter 20: Big Little I WOKE UP the following day when Mackenzie’s large hands slipped underneath my body and picked me up. I blinked my eyes open and gasped as I was being lifted up unexpectedly! “Morning, Connor,” she whispered to me. I grumbled something that sounded like ‘morning’ as I looked at the room bathed in very low light from some nightlights by the changing table. “Not waking up as quickly this morning,” she giggled. “Let’s see how you did last night!” I was on the changing table now, and she unzipped the sleeper all the way down to expose the thankfully still-dry diaper. Her hand intrusively pinched at it and said, “Well, all dry!” I gave her a thin smile. That was definitely a positive thing! “Let’s take you to the potty before I put on your swim diaper.” “Kay,” I replied. I was placed on her hip, now only wearing a dry diaper. She carried one of the swim diapers in her other hand, and I was soon in the bathroom. She sat me down on the potty and pulled at the diaper tabs. Briefly lifting my body off of it, she balled it up and walked toward the wall. I took the opportunity to force my bladder to open, which wasn’t hard because I did feel really full! My bladder pushed for several moments, and as the trickle ended, she was right there with toilet paper to wipe my front and check my back. A tiny bit of gas must have escaped me in the night as I noted some brown on the piece as she tossed it in the bowl. She held open the swim diaper for me to step into and led me to the bathroom sink to wash my hands. I realized then there was a taller sink against the wall she used. “Let’s get you dressed,” she told me while picking me up again. I felt self-conscious as I was nearly naked as she carried me to the room. However, I did feel better once I had the swimsuit on that covered my chest and diaper! She was dressed in a t-shirt and soft shorts that must have been covering hers because she had just grabbed two towels, handed me my goggles, and carried me downstairs like a toddler this time. ‘Less like a toddler,’ I had to admit, knowing I was closer to a six-month-old in size than someone like a Big toddler! It was early, and there were very few signs of life. I noticed a couple nest mothers were working out in the fitness room, but we were the only ones initially in the pool area. She placed me on a chair and said, “I managed to get a couple swim caps; which color do you want?” Apparently, the only choices were pink or purple! I blushed, “The purple one, I guess…?” “Sorry, they didn’t have any other colors,” she said as she gathered my ponytail and wrapped my hair inside the cap. “And it’s a good thing you have so much hair; I think this would be too big otherwise!” I blushed, “Somehow, I think that’s going to be a problem with just about everything this semester.” She hugged me reassuringly, “You’ll be fine; I’ll keep an eye out for you.” I was just diving into the pool when I realized the door opened and saw another nest mother in a swimsuit gape at me for a moment. I decided ignoring the giants was my smartest move, so even as I registered she and Mackenzie starting a conversation, I started swimming my laps. I alternated twenty-five sets of laps of freestyle, butterfly, and breaststroke, even as I noted another body was trying to keep pace beside me. I didn’t stop; I kept going until I had done the cycle three times, and a tall giant body blocked my path. I righted myself and looked up at this stranger. “Hi, I’m Miss Lilly. Where did you learn to swim like that?” She asked, seemingly out of breath. “My mom taught my sisters and me?” She shook her head, “Probably partly because we don’t let Littles really learn to swim, but I’ve never seen a Little swim like you do!” “Thanks, Miss Lilly,” I told her politely. Beside her, I noticed Mackenzie, “He said his mom thought his family was part dolphin,” she laughed. “I’m guessing it’s more than part!” The girl giggled, “I agree.” “Come on, my little dolphin, time to get Liam up, breakfast, and then we’ll go by the bookstore to make sure you both have any materials you need for the semester.” “And then I think my grandmother is picking me up after lunch?” I asked as she picked me up and wrapped me in a towel. “I think so,” she said. “She sent me an email saying she might come earlier. She’s supposed to text me,” she added. Again I found myself carried on her hip once she had us wrapped in towels. A couple other nest mothers were about and smiled at us. They seemed to think I didn’t see the winks they gave Mackenzie for some reason… BETH SPENT THE evening hanging out with Cassie as they washed her new panties back at the dorm. Given the accusation she’d been given, it was good to have a taller friend around, just in case! By the time she’d gone to bed, she had a brand new mattress that had never been removed from the plastic before being delivered and set up on her bed. Cassie had given her a hand on making it, ‘Since Mom had just made it, I had been looking forward to not having to deal with that. But, at least it’s done...’ She was at breakfast with Cassie and Livi when Desiree showed up. They’d all just about finished eating when nests of Littles were coming in. “What in the world?” Desiree asked, seeing the too-tall Little in the nest coming in. Well, Nevaeh wasn’t a Little… but the uniform she now wore definitely displayed the diaper below it like one of the Littles who had gotten into too much trouble. “What happened to her?!?” Desiree asked, “She’s taller than I am!” Beth nodded, “She decided to go along with Kelly and try and land me in diapers,” she told her. “What?!?” Desiree hissed. “Neveah broke into her room, stashed some wet pull-ups around, stole her panties completely, and Kelly tried to get Penelope to search to confirm her problems.” “How did you bust them?” Desiree asked me. She looked apprehensive, “That should have been enough to land you in Sanders or Wenig?” “It would have been, but my dad had already seen it on the video surveillance we hid in my room,” Beth whispered that part. Desiree smiled then, “So caught red-handed?” “Especially when they found all of my panties cut up into pieces in her room!” Beth smirked, “Still pissed they did that part! They made her pay to reimburse me… that reminds me, I need to send a receipt to Dean Northrup so she can get me paid back!” They were getting ready to leave when they heard, “Please? Can’t I go use the bathroom? It’s just down there?” Nevaeh was begging the nest mother, who was only about a foot taller than her. “No, we go potty before we leave the nest, or we hold it until we all go to the potty. A Little girl like you can’t wander off alone. Plus, you’ve already used that diapee for pee-pee; I can tell it’s wet. Just go in your diapee, and we’ll change you when we return to the nest.” “But I need to…?” It was like the whole cafeteria came to a stop right then. The diaper had already been peaking out underneath the skirt, and anyone could have seen it as she stopped mid-sentence. The girl who had seemingly towered above Beth before now seemed to take a step back in status so far that she wouldn’t seem big anymore! Height would no longer matter to anyone, as every single person in the cafeteria had stopped to watch the train wreck. Nevaeh bent her knees slightly as everyone heard the loudest fart on the planet! Bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrt!!!!! The sound seemed to go on forever, even as she gasped and grunted. She was turned away from Beth and her friends right then, so they had a front-row seat as the back of the diaper began drooping significantly and turning brown. Beth thought that would have been the most humiliating thing that could happen to anyone! Still, she grimaced as she realized little bits of brown began escaping and running down the girl’s legs. “Oh, you poor dear, you’ve had a full blowout here! I thought you said you were a big girl?” the nest mother shook her head and seemed somehow more than a foot-and-a-half taller than the girl now. Nevaeh burst into tears, and Beth almost felt sorry for her. Almost! CONNOR AND LIAM had arrived not long before the world’s largest Little had come into the cafeteria. They were eating and joined by Amy, Willow, and Mia. At the same time, Mackenzie hung out with their nest mother, Madelyn, at a nearby table. “What happened to her?” Liam asked. “Apparently, she’s being punished. She broke into some other girl’s room and tried to plant used training pants in there and stole her panties,” Mia said. “Ava told me the story last night,” she added. “So even though she’s a giant, she’s considered a Little now?” Liam asked. “Probably,” I told him. “You have to be really careful here,” I told them. I was just ensuring we weren’t being overheard when I saw the blowout of the century. A whiff made it to my nose just as I took a bite of eggs. “Eew,” I couldn’t help but complain. “Miss Mackenzie, can you watch Ava and Avery for a bit while I clean up my little girl here?” “Sure thing Kaylee, we’d rather not smell that messy diaper all through breakfast! Not to mention that poopy rolling down her legs isn’t sanitary.” “Thanks; we’ll use the bathroom here, so we don’t have to be gone long.” I watched as the bawling girl was led by her hand from the dining hall to the hallway. I winced as I saw two brown splotches land on the floor, and I was grateful when a worker quickly cleaned up after her. I also noticed a handful of other Big girls following behind the pair with their phones in hand while excitedly jeering at the poor girl. “That’s horrible!!!” Amy said. “Yeah, I bet they poisoned her like they did us that first night,” Willow added quietly. Ava and Avery were helped into two tall chairs beside Mackenzie and Lucy. Apparently, they thought they really needed to look after them while they were gone. “So, how long do you think we last?” Mia asked quietly. “Last?” Liam responded. “Yeah, before we’re having our own poopy diapers regularly? Didn’t you have one the past couple of days?” He blushed, “Yes, but at least she let me wear Pull-Ups today.” “What did you do anyway? She’s pretty kind compared to most of them?” I whispered. He turned even redder, “Well… I was kind of pis… angry,” I noticed him stop himself, “when Miss Mackenzie took me back and insisted I wear a diaper. I called her some very bad words and tried to fight her…?” “That was it?” I asked. “There was something else, but I won’t relive it…?” Willow squeezed his hand reassuringly, “Sounds bad?” “So, how long do you think, Connor? You seem to be the expert?” Mia asked me. I looked at her and shrugged, “Depends on what you do and your nest mother’s plans. Right now, I think that big girl is well on her way to being babied out; maybe that helps Ava and Avery make it longer.” “What can we do?” Mia asked. “Well, for one, don’t fight wearing Pull-Ups. You may very well have accidents and be pushed into diapers – don’t fight when it happens.” “Yeah… doesn’t do any good,” Amy said. “What happened to you?” Liam asked. “First night?” She said. “Oh,” Liam and I said together. “I knew that was coming,” I told them. “Did you know it would be impossible to stay dry till morning?” Liam asked. “Actually, I’ve been dry every morning,” I told him. “Same,” Willow said. Amy and Mia shook their heads. Mia said, “I’ve had to wake up and pee every night. Going back to sleep with a wet diaper su…?” Mia stopped mid-sentence just in time before Mackenzie was looking over at us. “You five having a good time?” she asked. We nodded, “Yes, Miss Mackenzie,” I said. “Well, you have about ten minutes, and we’re heading back to the nest. Your grandmother just texted me that she’s coming to pick you up.” Mackenzie looked at me then. “Great, thanks!” I told her. “What’s this about a grandmother?” I was asked again. “My mom…” BETH WAVED AT Connor as she left and went with her friends to the bookstore. “I don’t even know why we have a bookstore anymore?” Livy said. “All of my classes the whole time have been digital books?” Beth laughed, “They have to sell overpriced University gear somewhere!” “Not to mention gifts for someone like Nevaeh…?” Cassie motioned to the ‘First’ part of the store. It was the creepiest part of the store to Beth, and she knew most Betweeners felt the same way. ‘I can only imagine what the Littles think,’ she thought. The ‘First’ part of the store was everything a Little hoped to avoid. A ‘Baby’s First Pacifier,’ ‘Baby’s First Bottle,’ ‘Baby’s First Onesie,’ and things along those lines. It took up only a tiny area of the store. Still, she knew many a Little somehow was adopted by a new ‘parent’ off-campus, or something would come to rub in their new baby’s status as they left from confirming the adoption with the university. Beth found herself over in the supply section of the store and picked up a new stylus for classes. Livy was picking through the university shirts in her size when they noticed the exchange students coming in with their nests. Beth saw the absence of Connor but recognized a boy from his room, “Where’s Connor?” “Lucky bas…” he caught himself, “guy got picked up by that grandmother of his… Wish I could get away for the weekend!” Beth nodded at that, “Yeah, I know she was talking about that. Good for him. Good luck this semester,” she told him. She noticed that most of the students were in thinner underwear then. They were checking out as one of Littles was trying to buy one of the bracelet versions of the ID. “What do you mean you can’t sell one to me without an adult? I saw one of the other exchange students got one?” It was one of the other boys who she noted wasn’t that far off of Mid-Size. ‘Just a couple inches shorter than I used to be,’ she thought darkly. “It’s our store policy; an adult has to be here to confirm your registration.” “Can my nest mother do that?” “No, it has to be a parent, grandparent, or guardian you grew up with,” the woman said. “My parents are back home in the other dimension; how can I possibly get one of these?” “I don’t know; you might be able to talk to Dean Northrup? But, for now, I need to check out the other customers,” the woman said. “How did Connor end up with one?” Beth heard as she took her receipt and kept moving outside the store. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thank you for reading! Please press the ‘Like’ Button if you’ve enjoyed it! Comments are always super appreciated as well! I'm currently working on Chapter 57, and always have a much more productive weekend with more comments and Likes making me feel loved! (Once I get a few more chapters 'in the can' I might post a little more frequently as long as I can stay ahead of my goal, which is to be covered through December with once-a-week (57 does that!)) LCW will have a new posting every Friday for the foreseeable future! Your support through likes and comments means a lot to me. If you’ve enjoyed this or any of my other works, consider supporting me by purchasing copies of them on Amazon Kindle! (And if you do so pretty please consider leaving me a 5-star review (you can just leave the stars and no public reviews are viewable then!))

i love it, if it was me i would gotten the camo one

Poor Callie! And poor Kay-Kay watching his future in front of him…lol

I'm actually surprised the Littles mommy bothered to change her. I was expecting her to just put a paci in her mouth and say she'll change her later. I hope that at least Charlotte gets punished for her mistreatment of her new Little. If she couldn't handle being a mommy to a Little then she shouldn't have got one.

Thank you! I really like the part where she just insists to dress him and just pointed at his diaper when he asked for the toilet. I'm curious to see what happens next.

Hi. My bratty butt needs spanked. Any ideas of how I should get it spanked so I learn my lesson? Any other punishments?

Chapter 5 “Choo choo! Here comes the diapee train!” Tyler blinked the last of his sleep from his eyes. He’d dreamt he was on the cruise, playing a game that was vaguely like craps. He’d won round after round, raking in piles of chips. An attractive blonde stood by his side, gently encouraging him with a hand between his legs. She whispered something he couldn’t quite make out. When he turned to ask her what she’d said, she’d become Holly. “All aboard the diapee train!” He twisted in the crib to get a look at the fresh hell rolling his way. Rosie and another young woman pushed a cart piled high with stacks of diapers, wipes, and bottles of baby powder between the row of cribs. Someone had added childish cardboard train wheels to the side and a plastic bucket made to look like a smokestack on top. “Did you have sweet dreams, Mikey?” one of the women asked a guy in a ridiculous baby blue leotard thing. He nodded vigorously in response. “I was playin’ wif blocks. And then Donald Duck came and knocked ‘em over. But then a puppy came and put them back for me.” The young woman grinned like he’d said something truly profound and not just a rambling mess of broken-brained gibberish. “Wow! How fun. Let’s get you into a fresh diapee and then you can play with blocks in the playroom. How does that sound?” “Yay!” They lowered the side of the crib. A series of pops echoed through the room, then one of the women took a wadded up diaper and dropped it into a pail in the bottom of the cart. It landed with a thud. Mikey pulled his knees to chest and exposed his pale ass to the women. Tyler looked away. Not that Mikey or anyone else cared. Privacy wasn’t a concern here. At least not for the men. But that didn’t mean he wanted to see it. It was embarrassing by proxy. Like your dinner date asking the waiter at Bolocai if they serve hot dogs. Or being forced to piss yourself and then grinning up at your torturers because they promised you blocks. Pathetic. He closed his eyes and tried to recapture part of his dreams. Before playing craps, he was at one of the topdeck pools—the one shaped like a dolphin. Then he was having sex. First with Mon, then with some faceless woman. Then something had happened. Had interrupted him. He’d needed to pee in his dream. Then Rosie was there, asking him if he needed to go to the potty. He’d told her no and then gone into the casino, locking the door behind him. Were they already getting to him with their mind games? He needed to get out of there before it got worse. His typical arsenal of persuasion hadn’t worked: no carrot or stick. And god knows the place was locked down like a prison. He’d waited Monica out before. In a battle of the wills, he always won. But he’d be damned if he would wait around for her to bail him out of the prison she put him in. He wanted to pull into the driveway in style and drop a crisp stack of divorce papers on the breakfast bar, then roll up to this place with an army of attorneys. “Choo choo! How are Timmy’s diapies, hhhmmm?” “Pretty soggy, huh?” If only he could close his ears as easily as his eyes. Pop pop pop pop Thud Crinkle crinkle One of the cart wheels squeaked as they proceeded to the next willing victim and another round of condescending questions and sycophantic responses ensued. He was special. He’d known that since the second grade when he’d answered every question the teacher asked, been the first kid picked for dodgeball, and the fastest runner in freeze tag. The next two and half decades of trophies, academic accolades, and outstanding professional success only cemented that knowledge. But still. He might be a notch above these idiots, but there must have been at least a few here who weren’t weak-willed dolts. A few who’d resisted. But if any were still fighting back it certainly wasn’t evident here. Which meant it was only a matter of time for him too, much as he hated to admit it. They’d burrow into his brain with their stupid songs. Or rather, the drugs they were adding to the drinks or pumping through the vents and claiming were just nursery rhymes. Time to call in reinforcements. “Wooks wike mister Ty-ty has some soggy britches.” He reluctantly opened his eyes and stared up at the grinning orderly. She bent over his crib, her ample chest resting on the crib railing. Then she poked his exposed diaper. “Hey!” “Awww, did someone have wet dreams?” Rosie asked. “Veeerrrry wet,” the orderly added with a giggle. Rosie lowered the side of the crib and put a hand on the front of his diaper, patting it gently. “Oh my, it does look like someone had a visit from the sogmonster. Good thing you had on a thick diapee, isn’t it?” Tyler barely listened. He didn’t resist or twist away. He had his eyes on the little pocket at the back of Rosie’s sun dress. “Sure. Whatever.” Rosie smiled. “Well now, isn’t that a nice change in attitude.” She turned to the other woman. “I told you he’d realize how much he needed his diapers soon.” The other woman smiled and handed Rosie one of the massive diapers. “Uh huh.” Rosie nodded. “You’d probably be a grumpypuss if you woke up in wet sheets. That’s no fun at all.” She turned towards the cart, her backside swinging a bit closer. He reached out, keeping his hand as low as possible to avoid the orderly’s gaze. His hand brushed the pocket. Rosie twisted back around, dress fluttering out of the way. She dropped a package of wipes on the mattress next to him. He could almost reach it. The pocket wasn’t very deep, leaving nearly half of her cellphone exposed. If he moved slowly, carefully… Pop Pop Pop Pop “Woooweee. We need to get you drinking more liquids, young man.” His fingers brushed the hard metal case. “Allie, please note on Tyler’s chart that he needs to finish four—no, make it five—bottles every day this week.” She shifted and the phone slipped from his reach. He glanced down. The front of the diaper was flopped down on the mattress, leaving his penis exposed like a beached dolphin. “Think you could give me some privacy here?” “Unh uh,” Rosie grabbed his wrist. “Wouldn’t want to get tinkles on your hands.” “Tinkles? What are you…” The smell hit him. The source of the smell. It wasn’t coming from the rest of the room—at least not only the rest of the room. Rosie ran a cold wipe down over him and chuckled. “It’s okay. This brings back memories for lots of our boys. You don’t have to worry—we won’t make you do your sheets.” “Do my…?” “Launder them, I mean.” She pulled the diaper out from under him, taped it into a vaguely football shaped object, then dropped it into pail on cart. Thud No, they were screwing with him again. Still. There was no way… “We don’t just talk to the wives, you know. We interview anyone who can help us build out a profile. Mostly women, of course. They’re certainly more reliable and so many men are unwilling to help.” The orderly handed Rosie a bottle of baby powder. “We think it’s because the men realize when they start sharing their stories that they have a lot of the same struggles. Then they start to wonder when they will get sent to us.” “But mothers are almost always willing to help. Yours was no exception, Tyger.” “What did you call me?” Rosie patted his hip. “Lift up.” “No one has called me that in—” “Lift your bottom or Allie and I will do it for you.” He lifted a bit, plastic sheet mattress cover crinkling. Rosie slid a fresh diaper underneath him. “Why did you ask me all about her if you’d already talked to her?” he asked numbly. “Your mother--such a sweet woman,” Rosie continued. “And a memory like a bank vault. She explained all about your struggles with bedwetting. The wet sheets. The lies. The time she had to pick you up from a sleepover birthday party because you wet the sleeping bag. And the living room carpet. Scott Martin, was it?” “Martell,” Tyler mumbled. “Scott Martell.” He forgotten all about that. Or repressed it. Trying to blot up the mess with wads of toilet paper. Then a dish towel. And finally his t-shirt. Sneaking into the kitchen to get a glass of water that he could spill all over everything as an excuse. When he’d returned, Scott had stared at him wide-eyed. He’d called his mother. Made up an excuse about being sick. She didn’t buy it. But it got him out of there. The next day at school he’d made sure Scott wouldn’t tell anyone what happened and then he never thought about it again. Or tried not to. Until now. Rosie sprinkled baby powder all of over him. “She did the best she could, of course. Making you wash and dry your sheets. Putting a cover on your mattress. Make you take some responsibility. But today we know better.” She drew the diaper up to his bellybutton and began applying the tapes. “You boys play at being grownups and taking on responsibility, but only when we cajole and threaten and bribe. The moment you are out of our sight, it all falls apart.” “Boys are babies,” Allie added with a shrug. Rosie applied the last tape and patted the front of his diaper. “Awww, don’t be sad. We will take good care of you, Tyger.” “That’s not my name.” Rosie smiled. “Now it’s time to get up and shake out the sleepies. Come on, up we go.” *** “You put your whole self in! You take your whole self out!” One of the dolts toppled over onto the floor and started rolling around, legs in the air like a flipped turtle. “You put your whole self in and you shake it all about!” "Why aren't you dancin'?" Jamie asked. "...that’s what it’s all about," the music continued gleefully. The woman in the center of the circle shook her limbs while the men—if you could call them that— followed her lead awkwardly, always at least a few steps behind. Of course, that didn't include those who ignored the dance altogether in favor of of clapping, jumping up and down, or running in circles. A couple of the other guys didn't play along either. They made more of an effort than Tyler did, but you could see the difference in their faces, in the lack of dopey smiles and glazed eyes. They were still in there, somewhere, waiting to get out. "Do you still have the sleepies?" Jamie asked. Rosie caught his eye across the circle. He started shuffling his feet and waving his hands around. She couldn't call him out on that—he was a Super Bowl halftime show dancer compared to most of these guys. "I know!" Jamie shouted in his ear. "You need a hug!" "Touch me and I'll break your arm." He wilted. "You don't wanna hug?" "Maybe later, Jamie," a voice said beside me. One of the guys who'd managed to keep some semblance of sanity had made his way around the circle. Jamie nodded as if he understood, though his eyes said otherwise. He went back to dancing. "First morning, huh? Woke up wet?" the guy asked, awkwardly shuffling his feet and waving his arms about over his head. He laughed as I fumbled for a response. "You aren't the first. Won't be the last." "They gotta be putting something in the drinks. Or piped through the HVAC. Gonna fucking sue their asses off." "Who was it? Wife? Girlfriend?" "What?" "Who sent you here? Was it your mother?" He raised an eyebrow. "Stepmother?" "Does it matter?" He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not." The song finally ended and all the boys collapsed onto the floor, scores of feet kicking up in the air, their diapers crinkling loudly. Rosie glared at him again. Tyler dropped down onto his back and made a token effort. "Now did everyone get the last of the sleepies out?" the woman in the middle asked. “YES!” came the enthusiastic response. "Good. Now everyone with a red paci can head to the classroom. The rest of you get some free play first." "A red...?" My new associate pointed at the pacifier they'd clipped to my shirt. It had a blue head. "Of course. My paci." He grinned. "You get used to it after a while." He stuck out a hand. “I’m Derek.” "I'm not going to be here a while." He pointed at Jamie. "I remember when he said that too. Seems like it was just..." he paused. "Well, no clue actually. Time is funny in here." They both stood up again. Rosie made her way over. She held out a big bottle. “Here you go, Tyger. Gotta stay hydrated.” Tyler took the bottle. It was warm. Rosie raised an eyebrow. “Need help? Some boys have forgotten how to suckle properly.” Tyler took a long and awkward pull on the nipple, getting a squirt of warm, sweet milk. Rosie smiled. “Your mommy will be so proud when she comes to see you.” “My…wait, Monica is coming here?” “Now we have lots of fun activities for you. Playdough. Blocks—” “When is she coming?” She cleared her throat. “Coloring. Dollies. Trucks—” Might as well be talking to a wall. “I don’t care. Playdough. Whatever.” She smiled. “Wonderful. Der-der will show you where everything is. I’m sure you two will have so much fun together. I’ll be back soon to check your diapee, okay sweetie?” When she turned around, he spotted her phone again. He considered reaching out and making a desperate grab for it, then another thought popped in his head. “I want to color instead.” She turned around. “Please, Miss Rosie,” he added with what he hoped was an innocent smile. “Of course, sweetie.” They walked over to a low table with an assortment of coloring books and crayons. Tyler lowered himself into a small plastic chair, his knees poking up awkwardly. Everything in this place was designed to humiliate them. Derek settled in next to him. “Monica your wife?” Tyler picked up a loose coloring page—a train engine pulling a coal car and a caboose—and began writing his message in red crayon. Derek sighed. “You know, I think this is one of the reasons all of this could happen.” He nodded at Rosie and two other women standing at the edge of the room, talking. All three burst out in laughter. Tyler stopped writing and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll bite.” “See how they’re getting along? Talking? Laughing? Sharing?” “‘Sharing’? Man, they really have gotten into your head with their touchy-feely bullshit.” “We’re so busy beating our chests, trying to one-up each other. Not listening. Not letting anyone in.” “I’ll be sure to bare all to my ‘therapist,’” Tyler made exaggerated air quotes, “right after she’s done wiping my ass and telling me its for my own good.” “Look, I get it. I was like you when I got here.” Tyler snorted. “Believe whatever you want. All I’m saying is, if us guys worked together a bit more, maybe things would be easier for us.” He leaned in closer. “Especially those of us who aren’t on the full regression track.” Tyler positioned his arm so Derek couldn’t see his note. “Next time I need a hug, if Jamie isn’t around, I’ll come find you.” “Give it a few days. You might see things differently.” Tyler signed the note, folded it, and slid it into his lap. When Rosie looked over at the Playdough table he bent over and slipped it into his right sneaker. When her eyes made their way back to the coloring table he took a big slug of the bottle. “Good talk, Derder. Let’s not do it again sometime soon.” Are you enjoying reading Tyler's misadventures? If so, you might enjoy my stories on Smashwords, or my 42,000 word Diaper Discipline: A Strict Wife's Guide book.

Chapter 4 Tyler stared down at his new outfit in numb disbelief, at the stupid logo on his t-shirt, at the way his diaper scrunched together between his legs, at the childish shoes he was wearing, which made it totally clear that he was fully dressed. Rosie turned to address Jamie. “How are you doing, sweetie?” she asked brightly. “Do you need changies?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned the man around and pulled out the back of his diaper. “No messes yet,” she announced, peeking inside. Then she turned him back to face her and slipped a finger down the front. “Hmm… You’re a little soggy, but I think your diaper can a bit more. You’re good for now, mister.” She patted the front of his diaper and Jamie giggled. Tyler watched Jamie get his diaper checked like he was no more than three years old, and felt the beginnings of panic welling up inside him. He’d seen enough. This place was clearly some kind of brainwashing center where women turned men into diaper-pissing morons. The music was proof enough of that. And he had no intention of ending up like Jamie. Without warning, Tyler leapt off the changing table and started moving as fast as he could towards the door, the thick diaper between his legs turning his run into a ridiculous toddle. He heard Rosie laugh behind him, a pleasant, girlish laugh that sent a shiver down his spine, but he’d already reached the door. He flung it open and bolted out, right into the bosom of one of the enormous nannies stationed outside. Her arms wrapped around him at once, holding him tightly in place. "Thank you, Catherine,” Rosie said, walking up to them while Tyler struggled to break free of the older woman’s vice-like grip. “I think I know a certain little boy who needs a spanking. Would you like to do the honours?” "Get the fuck off me!” Tyler shouted. “I’m not going to end up like him!” He looked over his shoulder at Jamie, who was standing in the doorway with his thumb jammed between his lips, his eyes slightly crossed. “Don’t worry”, Rosie said soothingly, “you won’t end up like Jamie.” “Oh yeah?” Tyler sneered sceptically, still trying to squirm out of Catherine’s muscular arms. “ABC offers a lot of different options for how a male should be regressed,” Rosie explained patiently. “Baby level or toddler level. Mind-wiped or self-aware. Happy or humiliated. Jamie here is just a sweet, empty-headed little boy now. But your wife wants you to keep your mind, for the most part. She wants you to understand who you were and what’s happened to you. Otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a punishment! You’ll still be you when your regression training is over, you’ll just wear baby clothes and diapers, you’ll suck your thumb and your pacifier, you’ll drink from bottles and eat baby food, you’ll play with toys and dance along to silly songs. So you won’t be a toddler, sweetie. You’ll just act like one! Isn’t that lovely?” Any relief Tyler felt at being told he wouldn’t end up like Jamie vanished at once. He started struggling even harder to escape, panic welling up inside him again. That sounded even worse! But his squirming was useless. Catherine took a seat on a chair in the hallway, and he was pulled over her knees with his arms held tightly behind his back. She deftly undid the tapes of his diaper and pulled down the back to expose his bare bottom. "I wish you could have been a good widdle boy, Ty-ty,” Rosie said in mournful baby talk. “Then we could have done things the easy way. But I can tell you’re going to be a widdle mister gwumpy-pants about your regression training, and boys who act naughty need red tushy-wushies.” Tyler didn’t make a sound when the first smack landed on his rear. He was too shocked by what was happening. He was a grown man. He ran a successful consulting firm. And now he was over a woman’s lap getting spanked. But when the second smack landed with a sound like a whipcrack, he couldn’t help but let out a gasp of pain. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to give these bitches the satisfaction of knowing they were getting to him, but it was no use. The smacks started coming down harder and faster, until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Ow!” Tyler yelled. “Stop this! You can’t do this! Ow! Stop!” But the nanny didn’t stop. She kept on spanking, deaf to his shouts, and Tyler started writhing in her lap to get away, kicking his legs madly. To his shame, he realised that his eyes were filling with tears. “Please!” he sobbed. “Please stop! Please Miss Rosie, making her stop! I’ll be good! Owww! I won’t try to run, I promise! Owwwiee! I’ll be a good boy! I’m sorry!” At once, the spanking stopped, and he was left gasping for breath over Catherine’s lap. His face was flushed red and covered with tears. "It’s okay, little boy,” Rosie said soothingly, bending down in front of his face and wiping the tears from his cheeks with gentle fingers. “It’s all over now, and you’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you?” Tyler nodded feebly. He didn’t want to fight, not while Catherine was there at least. He didn’t want her to start spanking him again. He felt a cool hand on his burning bottom and heard Rosie giggle. “I do love the sight of a man with a bright red bum-bum,” she said, “but this little tushy needs a diapee.” He heard a crinkling sound, and felt the soft padding of the diaper cover his bottom again as Rosie re-did the tapes. “Don’t worry, honey. I know it felt bad, but it can be a lot worse than that. Your cute little butt will probably be fine in a few hours.” Tyler said nothing as he was helped to his feet. He couldn’t look at either of them. He didn’t want to see the smirks, the looks of superiority that were surely on their faces. "Good boy for saying sorry, Tyler,” said Rosie, taking his hand. “Now let’s go to the nursery. It’s lunchtime, and you need some nummies in your tummy, mister!” She led him down the corridor, Tyler conscious of the way his diaper pushed his legs apart and made him waddle, and even more conscious of his sore ass. He stared at his feet the whole way, sick with humiliation. How could he have been reduced to a stupid snivelling child like that, sobbing and pleading for them to stop? He was a man for fuck’s sake! And more importantly, how was he going to escape? It was clear he couldn’t overpower them, not with those hulking nannies lurking around the place. He’d have to be patient, he told himself. It wasn’t exactly his greatest skill, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d just have to play along for a while, gather more information, and look for a way out of this nuthouse. Rosie opened a door they’d come to, and Tyler was suddenly bombarded by noise. He looked up and felt his jaw drop. He was looking into an enormous, oversized nursery. Only there were no toddlers here. There were about a dozen grown men of various ages, all in uniforms like his, scattered around the room. Some were sat on the floor, stacking blocks and shaking rattles. Others were crawling along with toy cars and trains, and still others were sitting around a low plastic table, playing with playdough. Some had vacant, happy looks on their faces, like Jamie had, while others looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. A number of women were wandering around dressed in pretty sundresses like Rosie’s, or else the nursemaid-like skirts and blouses of the large women, or even simple shirts and jeans. They couldn’t have made more of a contrast with the men and their puffy white diapers. As Tyler stepped inside, he was assaulted by the strong smell of baby powder and pee, and he wrinkled up his nose in disgust. He looked around at the line of changing tables that stood along one wall, and the row of highchairs that stood along the other. This place was a freakshow! As he watched, a stern-looking middle-aged woman walked into the centre of the room and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright little ones,” she said in a mocking, syrupy voice, “time for lunchies!” The women helped the men to their feet and started leading them over to the highchairs. Rosie pulled Tyler along too, flashing him a bright smile as she did so, and took him up to one of the big plastic chairs. "Up you go, diaper butt,” she said sweetly, with an encouraging pat on his bottom. Tyler barely felt it through the thickness of his diaper, but when he clambered up and sat down obediently in the seat, his rear throbbed painfully, and he winced. "I think someone’s sitting on a sore bum-bum, isn’t hims?” came a cooing female voice. Tyler looked up to see a woman helping Jamie into the highchair next to his. She was looking over at him with a teasing grin. "He certainly is,” Rosie answered for him. “Little Tyler here tried to run away, but thankfully Catherine caught him before he could go far.” "Oh dear,” the woman laughed. “No wonder he’s sore! That woman sure knows how to spank a man’s hiney. So is this the same Tyler who had a little accident earlier? I hope Jamie was able to clean everything up for you.” “Oh yes, he was a great help,” said Rosie. “Thank you, Miss Elanor. And yes, it’s the same Tyler. He made quite the little puddle on the floor! And to think, he said he didn’t need diapers.” "It was the music!” Tyler blurted angrily. “That stupid humpty-dumpty song!” He felt himself turning red. The words sounded ridiculous on his lips, but it was the truth. The two ladies just chuckled and exchanged looks. At that moment, another woman came by and placed a bowl on his and Jamie’s trays, followed quickly by a large baby bottle for each of them. Tyler looked down in disgust at the greenish-orange mush in the plastic bowl in front of him. It was clearly baby food. "Now Tyler,” said Rosie, in a business-like tone. “Are you big enough to feed yourself? Or do you need Miss Rosie to do it for you?” Tyler was about to say that he wasn’t going to eat this shit at all, but his bottom was still painful, and he could see the threat in Rosie’s eyes. He didn’t want to be spanked again. "I'll do it,” he said stiffly. "What a big boy!” "Here you go, Miss Rosie,” said Elanor, handing a crumpled up bit of fabric to her. It seemed the staff had been passing whatever they were down the line. "Thank you,” Rosie said primly, and she flashed Tyler a smirk as she unfolded the fabric. "I don’t need that,” Tyler said at once, when he saw what it was. "Of course you do, silly!” Rosie chirped. “A diaper’s not the only thing you’ll need to take care of your messes, Tyler. You’re also going to need a bib! Part of the ABC program involves training you to have the eating habits of a baby. You could have the table manners of a prince right now, but by the time your training’s done, you’ll be the kind of boy who gets spaghetti in his hair and choccy pudding all over his face. Yes you will!” Tyler felt a coldness in his stomach, even while his face flushed hotly with the embarrassment of being spoken to like he was two years old. He thought back to the video Holly had shown him earlier. Their threats felt a lot more real now. These women really were trying to turn him into some kind of overgrown baby man, and if the diapered idiot sitting next to him was anything to go by, they certainly had the power to do it too. Rosie tied the bib around his neck. It was a soft baby blue, and his name was written across it in white letters. Baby Tyler. He grimaced at the sight of it, and then he became aware that there was faint music playing again. "Alright, Tyler,” Rosie crooned, pressing a plastic spoon into his hands. “Show me what a big boy you are!” Tyler dipped the spoon into the bowl of baby food almost absent-mindedly and lifted a spoonful up to his mouth. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. Vegetable-y but sweet. He was distracted by the music. Were they trying to mess with his head again? Because this time he was going to be ready for it. What was that they were playing? It sounded upbeat and cheerful. Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man? Do you know the muffin man, who lives on Drury lane? The muffin man. Tyler wished he could have a muffin instead of yucky baby food. A nice chocolate muffin. Or maybe blueberry. He ate another spoonful, and another. Yes I know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man. Yes I know the muffin man, who lives on Drury lane. "Good boy, Tyler!” Rosie was saying. “What a good boy for eating your num-nums!” Tyler ate another spoonful. This time a little bit of baby food spilled down his chin, but he didn’t care. He was busy focusing on the music, making sure it didn’t get inside his head. He could hear it again, that syrupy voice substituting words, and that deeper female voice beneath it, murmuring something else. Miss Rosie grinned at him, and he grinned back. He was too clever for her. He was too clever for all of them. He ate another spoonful. He ate it a little sloppily and got some on his cheeks, but what did that matter? He had to make sure they didn’t turn his mind as mushy as his lunchies. Miss Rosie was holding the spoon now. When had that happened? But he didn’t really mind. It let him focus on ignoring the music more. “Open up for the airplane!” she said cooingly, and Tyler giggled as she made airplane noises, guiding the spoon towards his mouth. She was so funny. And so pretty. “Good boy,” she said, and Tyler felt as though fireworks were going off inside his head. “Good baby.” She was holding up the bottle now. Had he finished his nummies already? “We need to keep you hydrated, don’t we?” Miss Rosie asked, but he knew she didn’t really expect a response. “That apple juice went right through you before! Such a little tinkler!” Tyler giggled again. He was a little tinkler. He’d tinkled all over the floor earlier. He’d wet himself. The woman in the video had said he’d never use a toilet again. That made Tyler frown a little. Because he didn’t want that. That would be icky. That would be awful. That would be- Miss Rosie shoved the bottle into his mouth, and he started to suck. His milkies were yummy. She showed him how to hold his bottle properly, with two hands, so he could feed himself like a big boy without spilling, which was a good thing too because he’d already made a huge mess of his face and his bib, Miss Rosie said. He was a mucky boy. Tyler sat there proudly in the highchair while he guzzled down his formula. Eventually, he was sucking on nothing but air, and Miss Rosie helped him down again and started leading him over to another room. This room was dark, and there were lots of cribs in it. Big cribs, big enough for a big boy like him. A different tune was playing now. Was that Rock-a-bye Baby? He wasn’t sure. He was very tired. Miss Rosie was speaking quietly to him though. "And you won’t always go off into baby-land like that,” she was saying, although he didn’t really understand. “But the music helps you learn how to behave, so you know what to do next time.” She lowered the bars of one of the cribs and helped Tyler into it. “We need to make sure all those adorable little babyish behaviours are as natural as breathing.” There was a teddy in the crib for him, and Tyler clutched it automatically to his body. As the lullaby filled his brain and he drifted off to sleep, he didn’t notice his thumb slipping into his mouth. "Enjoy your nap, baby Tyler.”