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Hi All! I was talking with some people about this story in a discord server and I thought, ya know what, let's give 'em some more, so here's a big update for you! Chapter Six Ms. Akiyama, Thank you for reaching out to me with your concerns. First of all, I can, in fact, confirm that your daughter, Rei Akiyama, was with me this past Wednesday evening. I was running a workshop for a number of students to give them a chance to work on their midterm essays under supervision. As to your second question, I understand a lot of parents have concerns about the curriculum their children are learning in college these days. Please, allow me to reassure you on this matter. While we do deal with political issues and current events in my classroom, my goal is to provide students with a balanced perspective of the issues and help them formulate their own thoughts on matters. This is a tough and confusing time for everyone your daughter’s age, but especially for girls, and I like to think of my classroom as a place where they can work through their thoughts on these matters in a safe and educational environment. Of course, my first and utmost priority is to make sure your daughter receives a high-quality education, and I only include politics as much as I think is appropriate for this course. On a more personal note, I would like to add that your daughter is an exemplary student, and it has been my pleasure to teach her thus far this semester. I can tell that she is very passionate about her studies, and I very much look forward to continuing to work with her through the semester. You should be very proud of her. I hope that my answers have allayed some of your concerns; if you have any other questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. Sincerely, Professor Natalie Lewis, PhD She/Her/Hers Associate Professor Gender Studies Department Greenham Community College Chapter Seven Rei slipped through the front door of her house as quietly as she could and slipped off her shoes. She stopped for a moment and just listened, trying to see if she could tell where her mother was. Hearing nothing, she carefully peered into the living room, expecting to perhaps see her reading on the couch. Nothing. On tiptoes, Rei made her way to the kitchen and looked through to the dining room beyond. Nothing. The downstairs bathroom was empty too. The car had been in the driveway, though, so Rei knew her mother was home. Maybe she had gone to bed early? Feeling uneasy, Rei crept up the stairs. She didn’t even know for sure that she had anything to fear from her mother; maybe Professor Lewis had managed to quell her fears without revealing that Rei was taking exactly the kind of class her mother had told her not to. The kind that put ideas in your head, according to her mother. Relieved to see the second-floor hallway clear of her mother, Rei breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door to her room. A gasp caught in Rei’s throat as she registered she was unexpectedly not alone in her bedroom. Then her eyes caught up to her panicked brain and that panic faded and sunk into dread. Her mother was sitting on the edge of her bed; sitting on the bed beside her were some of Rei’s school books—specifically the kind that taught feminist theory. The two looked at each other in silence as the moment stretched on forever for Rei. “Mom…what…?” Rei finally managed to force out a few strangled words. “How was class today, Rei?” “Uhm, okay, how was your day?” She replied, trying to redirect. “Tell me again, what classes did you have today?” “Uh…” Rei chewed on her bottom lip nervously, knowing she was caught and unsure how best to minimize the damage. “Stop chewing your lip, Rei, and answer the question.” “I had class with Professor Lewis and Professor Slater today,” evasion, she had decided, was her best bet right now. “Uh huh, and what class, exactly, does Professor Lewis teach?” Damn, that didn’t work. “Rei! I’m tired of telling you, stop chewing your lip and answer the question.” “English.” Ms. Akiyama clicked her tongue and shook her head; she had hoped her daughter would come clean, but instead she had lied through her teeth right to her own mother’s face. Who was her daughter becoming? Whoever it was, Ms. Akiyama didn’t like it, and she wasn’t going to let her daughter go down a bad path. “So, you are reading,” Ms. Akiyama picked up one of the books on the bed next to her, “The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir for English?” Rei nodded; she was committed now, and the only way out was through. “I see,” Ms. Akiyama set the book down and picked up the next, “Gender Trouble by Judith Butler?” Rei nodded, her eyes wide, glossy discs. “And A Vindication of the Rights of Woman: with Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects by Mary Wollstonecraft?” Rei kept lying, but there was no light at the end of the tunnel yet. Ms. Akiyama sighed and set the books down. “Well, don’t you worry; you won’t be needing these books anymore. I called the school today and withdrew you from that English class.” “What? Mom! That’s not fair!” Rei was trying to keep her voice calm, but she couldn’t help but let it crank up a few decibels. Her heart was suddenly beating way too fast, and she felt vaguely beside herself with frustration and anger. “Life isn’t fair, Rei,” Ms. Akiyama spat back. “And you don’t just get to do whatever you want without consequences. When I agreed to let you continue going to college, you promised me wouldn’t be taking courses like that. You don’t need to be filling your head with the kind of dreck these classes teach! It is bad enough that you took that class after I had expressly forbidden you from taking any such classes, but then you sat there and lied to my face about it. You abused my trust, Rei; you have to learn there will be consequences to this kind of behavior.” “I wouldn’t have had to lie about the class if you would have just let me take it in the first place!” Rei shot back impotently. Tears were threatening to run down her face, and her hands were balled into fists at her side. “Excuse me, young lady? Are you saying it’s my fault you lied?” “No, that’s not what I meant!” As upset as she was, even Rei had the sense to know when to back pedal. “It’s just…” her mouth worked for words her brain wasn’t providing. “Just what? What do you have to say for yourself to justify this behavior?” “Just…ugh! Why can’t I just take the stupid class? You don’t even know what we learn in there!” “I have a good enough idea, young lady. And I’ve already told you, I don’t want that school filling your head with all sorts of ideas about what the world could or should be; the world is what it is, and you have to accept that! You have to live in reality, Rei; don’t you understand I just want what’s best for you?” “You don’t know what’s best for me!” Rei saw the look in her mother’s eyes and immediately knew she had said the wrong thing. It all happened so quickly that Rei’s brain had to race to keep up with her body. Ms. Akiyama’s hand shot out, catching Rei’s wrist in an iron grip, and tugging the small girl forward and across her mother’s lap. On Ms. Akiyama’s end, the motion was surprisingly instinctive despite it having been the better part of two decades since she had needed to perform it. “Mom!” Rei protested as she realized what was about to happen. “I’m sorry!” But her pleas fell on indifferent ears. Ms. Akiyama flipped her daughter’s skirt up, yanked down her cotton panties, reared back, and smacked her daughter hard enough to fill the room with a thunderous clap that nearly swallowed Rei’s pained yelp. Then she did it again. And again. And again. By the fifth hit, Rei had started kicking her feet, desperately trying to get away, but Ms. Akiyama held her firmly in place. By the fifteenth, Rei’s yelps had turned to cries, quickly approaching sobs. By the thirtieth, all the fight had gone out of the girl, and she lay limply across her mother’s lap, tears cascading freely down her face, praying it would end soon. By the fiftieth, Ms. Akiyama had to help her shuddering daughter get up off of her lap and stand on her own feet. “I am your mother, Rei, I will always know what is best for you,” Ms. Akiyama held her daughter by her shaking shoulders as she looked into her tear-filled eyes. “You, Rei, are a child and do not understand how the world works. You do not have the experience, knowledge, or maturity to make these kinds of decisions. I had thought that maybe, just maybe, you were ready for that responsibility, but this whole fiasco demonstrates very clearly that you do not. So, from now on until you grow up and can make important decisions yourself, I will be making them for you. I will make your decisions because I know what is best for you. And what is best for you is that you never go to that class again. Do you understand?” Rei nodded weakly. “Say the words, Rei. Do you understand?” “Yes, Mom, I understand.” “Now, I think you should thank me for allowing you to continue going to all your other classes, don’t you?” A fresh round of sobs racked Rei’s body, but she nodded, “t-thank you,” she managed to get out. “You’re welcome.” Ms. Akiyama let go of her daughter’s shoulders, and the girl crumpled to the ground. Without another word, she gathered up the now confiscated feminist texts and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Rei lay on the floor for a long moment after that, but eventually crawled over to her discarded backpack. She grabbed her cell phone from the front pocket and opened her texting app. Chapter Eight Ms. Akiyama quietly closed the door behind her, cutting off the worst of Rei’s sobs. Clutching the confiscated books to her chest, she resisted the urge to run to her bedroom at the end of the hallway and instead forced herself to make her there in slow, measured steps. Stay calm, she told herself, just stay calm. But when the bedroom door closed behind her, Ms. Akiyama could no longer keep her composure. She slumped against the closed door and let out a little sympathetic sob; she couldn’t believe what she had done. She had just lost her cool. She hadn’t spanked Rei since she was a toddler, but now she had done it without even thinking about it. She just wanted what was best for Rei; she wanted her daughter to be happy and safe. Rei needed to understand that; her daughter needed to understand that she wasn’t as smart as she thinks she is, nor was Ms. Akiyama as clueless as her daughter believed her. Maybe…maybe it was for the best, maybe Rei needed a good spanking to get the lesson through her head, but…but Ms. Akiyama couldn’t help but feel terrible for what she had done. Wiping her eyes, Ms. Akiyama sat down on her bed. She’d always thought of herself as a good mother, but now…now she wasn’t so sure. Things were so different than when she was a kid. The parenting she’d learned no longer seemed to apply; she felt like she was starting over as a new mother, as clueless and rudderless as she was when Rei was first born. But on the other hand, maybe she wasn’t giving Rei enough credit for how hard this must be for her. It was no wonder Rei was being so rebellious; the world had changed a lot since she was a kid, too, and she was having to relearn the ways of the world just when she was at an age when she was starting to figure things out. In as much as Ms. Akiyama was, in many ways, a new mother, Rei was…well, a child. Huh…wait…that was an interesting thought. Could it really…? Could she…? She wouldn’t know where to begin. And after all, when she thought of it like that, there was a certain sense to what some mothers were doing to their daughters. Ms. Akiyama had been stunned to find that some of Rei’s friends from high school had begun to go through this kind of treatment; she had been baffled to know that women Ms. Akiyama had worked with in the PTA were doing this to their daughters. She hadn’t gotten it then; she hadn’t understood why someone would do that to their young adult daughter, but, suddenly, she could see the sense in it. And then there was…well…Ms. Akiyama couldn’t help but think back to a few months ago when she had been shopping with Rei when the pair had run into one of Rei’s best friends from high school and her mother: Megan and Heather Eckridge. Ms. Akiyama had been shocked, to say the least, to see the former being pushed in a stroller sized for a young adult. Megan had been like Rei in high school: bright and ambitious. But for all appearances, Megan had looked happy. It had been the first, but certainly not the last, time Ms. Akiyama had seen someone so close to her and Rei regressed so far, and Ms. Akiyama still remembered the sort of surreal feeling she had. She was cognizant of how horrified she might have been to see a girl she had known to be as driven and mature as Rei sucking on a pacifier with what was obviously a very soaked diaper pressing against the snaps of her onesies, but Megan had seemed so…happy. And that happiness had diffused the horror of the situation, leaving only an uncanny echo. And all Ms. Akiyama really wanted for Rei was to be happy. But Rei would never go for it. No, Ms. Akiyama knew what was best; if she thought this was what was best for her daughter, her daughter would do it. She wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. Rei might hate it at first, that was true, but Ms. Akiyama was sure she would come to find happiness in it. More happiness than she was bound to find if she kept filling her head with all sorts of dreck and detritus. And it wasn’t even like Ms. Akiyama was thinking of going as all in as Heather Eckridge had; she was only considering going deep enough to put Rei back in her place and keep her in line, make sure she grew up to have a nice, happy life despite the new twists and turns the world had thrown at her. But…was this best? Rei was mostly a good kid; she was just too curious for her own good. Maybe she could handle this in a more conventional way. Rei would see reason if Ms. Akiyama talked to her. But, then again, Rei hadn’t seen sense yet, despite Ms. Akiyama trying to talk to her. In fact, she usually got pouty and sullen when Ms. Akiyama tried to talk to her about these things. In fact, Rei acted like a child who didn’t get her way; maybe, if Rei was going to behave like a child… There was a time Ms. Akiyama would have found this suggestion ridiculous, laughably so. Indeed, that had been her initial reaction a few years ago when this thing first started becoming popular enough to gain national attention. And yet, perhaps for the first time, she saw the sense in it. But one thing was for certain: Rei would fight tooth and nail every inch of the way. Luckily, one thing was the same today as it was when Rei was a child: Ms. Akiyama was not too proud to admit she didn’t know what she was doing and seek help. When she was pregnant with Rei, she had devoured parenting books and blogs and guides of any format. And certainly, they had been helpful, but, once Rei was born, Ms. Akiyama quickly found that the best source of wisdom was the other women down in the trenches of motherhood with her. So, Ms. Akiyama did the one thing she could think of: she picked up her phone, opened her contacts, and navigated to Heather Eckridge. Chapter Nine (Author's Note: My apologies if there are any formatting issues in this chapter. This chapter contains a text message conversation between two characters; in the original Word document, I took the time to put the messages in colored boxes like in a messaging app, but, unsurprisingly, this didn't translate. I think everything should be fine, but just in case, my apologies!) Rei’s thumb hesitated over the send button. She barely knew the girl; should she really be texting her about…this? Somehow, though, she was the only person Rei wanted to talk to about it. Somehow, Rei knew she’d understand how awful Rei felt right now. Somehow, she would know what to do. Rei took a deep breath and hit send. “Hey, riley, it’s rei” Rei immediately regretted hitting send. She stared at the screen of her phone, desperately wishing there was an unsend button. She even long-pressed the text box to make sure there wasn’t. After a few more long moments spent looking at that unchanging screen, Rei put her phone to sleep and set it on the floor next to her. It was stupid, Riley was probably busy, and, besides, it was dumb to even bring this up with her. But, who else could Rei talk to? Megan Eckridge had been Rei’s best friend throughout both middle and high school; the two had been inseparable for six years and had planned to go to the same university. But the last time Rei had seen Megan had been a few months ago when she ran into Megan and her mother in Target; the latter had been pushing the former in a stroller. The look on Megan’s face had been embarrassed and slightly apologetic, but she had simply sucked her pacifier and let her mother do the catching up. Rei had met Brian Redburn during their freshman year of high school; they were lab partners in biology and entered the science fair together, taking home third place. The two had stayed close after that, even though Rei always suspected Brian was aiming for more than friendship. In senior year, Brian started to be very vocal about his support for groups like Mothers for America that lobbied for the kind of social policy change that would eventually lead to the passage of The Hayes Act. That had been the end of their friendship. Sally Walker had been her partner in the debate team; they’d always had a bit of a frenemy vibe going. No, that wasn’t quite right, they were never enemies, but frequent rivals, challenging the other to get better grades and perform better in their debates. They were fast friends when it mattered though. Sally’s mother had emancipated her when The Hayes Act was passed, and Sally went off to the kind of fancy university Rei herself would have gone to if not for…well, everything. They had lost touch. Maybe Rei could have reached out and tried to rekindle that friendship, but…no, Sally could never even begin to understand what Rei was feeling. But, for that matter, could Riley? Riley had been emancipated too, but…there was something about her. She wasn’t fighting this fight for herself, but she was still down in the trenches fighting for girls like Megan. Girls like, it seemed, Rei. Rei dived on her phone like a live grenade as it vibrated. “Hey girl good to hear from you, hows it going?” Rei let out a sigh of relief; part of her had been worried that Riley had only given Rei her number to be nice and didn’t expect Rei to use it. Rei’s fingers danced across her screen. “Tbh it has been a weird night. I was…kinda hoping i could talk to you about it, if that’s okay” Rei was relieved to see the three bouncing dots that told her Riley was typing back appear almost immediately. “Yeah of course, sounds serious, everything okay?” Rei’s fingers remained motionless as she thought through how to respond to that question. Everything was definitely not okay, but…how to explain what had happened? Rei started typing, her fingers flying, as she narrated the events of the evening, starting with coming home. Wait, no, hold on. Rei held down the delete button until what she had just written disappeared. She had to explain the lead up to today, or else Riley wouldn’t really get how things had led up to this point. Rei started typing again, then started deleting before she had finished a sentence. Okay, she thought to herself, just keep it simple. She typed out for words, let her thumb linger over send for a long moment, then let it drop. “My mom spanked me” “Shit. You okay? What happened? And so, for the second time, Rei launched into her retelling of the events of the day. Riley remained silent on her end until Rei finally reached the end of her story. Rei pressed send on her final message and set her phone down to wait for Riley’s response. The burning, stinging sensation on her ass was finally beginning to fade, but the deep muscle ache was still very present. Rei couldn’t help but wonder if her butt would bruise. Riley did not keep Rei waiting for long. “Shit. That’s so fucked up, im so sorry rei. What can I do to help? Do you need me to come get you? You can stay at my place for the night if you need to. We will figure out how to get your re-enrolled in that class, okay? So don’t worry about that.” “No, no, that’s okay…I just needed someone to talk to about it, and tbh I didn’t know who else I could talk to about this. Anyway, there’s no way my mom would let me leave the house tonight and I don’t want to think about what she might do if she caught me sneaking out tonight. As for the class..idk, maybe it’s better I just obey my mom on this one.” “Okay, if youre really sure…” “I’m sure. I just…really needed to tell someone about this that I knew would be on my side, if that makes sense” “Yeah, it does. And rei? Never doubt that I’m on your side.” “Thanks riley. Thanks a lot” Rei smiled weakly and put her phone down. Riley hadn’t been able to make anything tangibly better, but Rei hadn’t expected her to either. Just sharing what had happened and having Riley affirm that it was, indeed, fucked up was enough. That was all Rei had really needed. Well, that was all Rei needed that she was going to get right then. The two continued texting throughout the night, but conversation quickly turned on to other matters. When Rei finally went to bed that night, she fell asleep with her face bathed in the light of her phone screen as her eyes danced amongst those three bouncing dots. When five minutes passed without a response from Rei, Riley started to think the girl had fallen asleep. She had, after all, said she was lying down in bed; it was the obvious assumption for Rei’s sudden silence. When another ten passed and Riley’s phone remained silent, she was quite sure of it. Riley got out of her own bed and, leaving her phone behind, wandered downstairs to find a snack. As she made her way down the stairs, she could hear the murmur of the TV coming from the living room and see the flickering light illuminating the hallway. Riley’s socked feet moved silently over the hardwood floor as she crossed the hallway and entered the living room, where she found her mother sitting in an otherwise dark room with a bowl of popcorn watching what appeared to be some old sitcom. She looked up at her daughter as Riley came into the room and paused the TV. “Hey,” Anne, Riley’s mother, said, “you’re still up. I thought you went to bed a while ago.” “Nah,” Riley said, plopping down on the couch next to her mother, “I’ve just been in my room, texting a friend.” Her mother extended the popcorn bowl towards Riley, who grabbed a handful. “Everything okay?” She couldn’t quite place it, but her daughter had an odd tone in her voice. “Yeah,” Riley crunched down on a piece of popcorn and chewed thoughtfully. “Yeah,” she repeated once she had swallowed, “my friend is just going through some things.” “Sorry to hear that,” Anne replied. “Is this a friend of yours I know?” Riley shook her head, “nah, I just met her recently. She goes to school with me.” When it became clear that Riley wasn’t going to continue, Anne picked the TV remote back up and pressed play, and the two sat in silence watching the TV and munching on popcorn for a long moment. As they watched the show in silence, Riley’s mind drifted back to the whole reason Rei had texted her. Truthfully, Riley had been excited to see Rei’s text; their meeting had been brief, but she felt a connection with the other girl. If she was being honest, she had been slightly sad that Rei was coming to her because she had a problem. It was silly, but she wanted Rei to…well…genuinely want to talk to her. Would Rei had ever texted Riley if this hadn’t happened? Riley knew, however, that this thought was unfair and ungenerous to her new friend. Furthermore, it downplayed the significance of the fact that Rei had trusted Riley enough to come to her with this. Riley was sure the other girl had plenty of other friends she could have gone to. All of this was, of course, overshadowed by Riley’s concern over the implications of Rei’s mother’s actions. Riley knew she was lucky to have a mother like hers; one that respected not only Riley’s adulthood but her personhood as well. The sad truth was, what had started as something practiced by only the most conservative families had become rather mainstream, and most girls had parents who had supported The Hayes Act to some degree or another. There was a reason The Hayes Act had soared through both houses of congress with the most bipartisan support of any bill in recent memory. Of course, not every family went so far as to completely regress their adult daughters to giant infants. This extreme of the spectrum was still, technically, in the minority but large enough that it was considered perfectly normal. Large enough that adult sized baby products and clothes had become big business. Large enough that that they still outnumbered the families on the other extreme of the spectrum who had emancipated their daughters. The majority of families fell in sort of a middle ground that included varying degrees of regression: some families stopped short of fully regressing their adult daughters to babyhood, instead merely regressing them to toddlerhood; some treated them more like elementary age girls; some merely extended their teen years; and, of course, there were those who combined elements from ages to their liking. The fact was that it was estimated that 82.7% of girls ages 18 to 28 wore pull ups or diapers. The fact was that only 8.5% of girls age 18 to 28 were emancipated. The fact was the companies like Kimberly-Clarke and Proctor & Gamble, companies that produced brands like Pampers, Luvs, and Huggies, were raking in record profits. The fact was that their profits had been having exponential growth over the last five years as this movement started gaining traction. The fact was that those rising profits had been reinvested in propaganda and lobbyists. And that’s not even to mention the role of the pharmaceutical companies and private education institutes. The fact was that Riley was well aware of all of these facts; they were ingrained in her memory, and just thinking about them was enough to make her furious. She forced herself to unclench her jaw, then took a deep breath. She willed herself to calm down. It kind of worked. Rei had told her today that her mother was a bit on the fence, but this was a sign that she was picking a side. This was a pretty drastic and pretty sudden declaration. How far would Rei’s mom take it? Were diapers in Rei’s future? Pre-school? Elementary? Maybe Rei would get lucky and her mom would just send her to an extended high school program. Riley hoped that’s all it would be, for the sake of her new friend. But either way, in in the best case for Rei, Riley would lose her. Even if Rei went the way of Jennifer Duffy, being regressed to infancy in some ways while still allowed to attend college, it was only a matter of time before the two couldn’t be friends anymore. Rei was far from the first friend Riley would lose to this trend, and once their parents started dragging them down, it was only a matter of time before they stopped being friends. Sometimes, it was because their mother forbade them from hanging out with Riley, citing her as a bad influence. Sometimes, it was because the other girl couldn’t handle being friends with Riley, either out of embarrassment or jealousy or some other complication. And sometimes, it was because the other girl started drinking the kool-aid and decided Riley was a bad influence on their own. That was how it had been with Jennifer Duffy. Riley didn’t want to lose another friend, especially not one she had just made. “You know,” Anne spoke up suddenly, startling Riley out of her thoughts, “I loved this show when I was a kid. I saw it was on streaming now and decided to rewatch it.” “And?” Riley prompted. “How is it holding up?” Anne chuckled, “not well. I remember it being a lot funnier; but maybe I was just easier to amuse back then. Either way, the show didn’t age well.” Riley snorted a short laugh. “Yeah, well, some things are better left in the past.” Anne looked at her daughter thoughtfully, wondering what was going on in her head. Something seemed to be weighing on her. Of course, it didn’t take a genius to see that Riley wasn’t thinking about TV shows when she had said that. Anne frowned, uncertain what to do for her daughter. Riley was smart and mature and passionate; Anne was proud of all that. She had given her daughter every opportunity she could give her to be independent and seek out her goals, but Anne could only do so much, and the world was against both of them. It couldn’t help that Riley was one of only a select few amongst her peers whose mother gave them such freedom. “Your friend,” Anne said after a long silence, “is she…are her parents…” Anne gestured vaguely, uncertain how to put this euphemistically. “No,” Riley responded, getting the gist of what her mother was trying to say, “at least, not yet. I don’t know. I hope not.” Anne frowned deeper. She knew how many friends Riley had watched have their adulthoods stripped from them. She knew how furious the whole thing made Riley. “You know you can’t interfere, right?” Riley reached over and grabbed a small handful of popcorn. She shoved it in her mouth and chewed silently, staring at the TV. “Right?” Anne said again, louder this time. Riley swallowed pointedly and gave her mother a withering look, “it’s rude to talk with your mouthful.” Anne sighed, “but seriously, okay? Right?” Riley flopped back on the couch, “right, whatever.” “I know it’s hard, Riley. I’m really sorry.” “It’s fucking dumb is what it is.” “That doesn’t make it any less real.” “I know, mom.” “I just worry you are going to get yourself in trouble. Even I can’t protect you if you get in trouble.” “I’m not gonna get in trouble.” “Uh huh, sure, you’re not, little miss Rebel.” Riley rolled her eyes but said nothing. She hadn’t wanted her mother to know she was member of Rebel, much less figure out that she was its founder and leader; she would very much have preferred if that had stayed a secret. But Riley’s mother wasn’t stupid. “I’m serious, Riley,” her mother continued a moment later, her tone dropping to reflect the gravity she intended for her words, “you know I’m proud of what you are doing, but I want you to scale it down, okay? That was dangerous and risky.” Riley just sighed. Her mother hadn’t said anything about the bombing yet, but of course Riley knew her mother knew Riley was behind it. Of course, Riley knew she wasn’t going to stay silent about it forever (how could one stay silent if they knew their child had masterminded an explosive act of domestic terrorism, after all, and Riley was, quite frankly, shocked it had taken her this long), but Riley really wasn’t in the mood to talk about it tonight. “Hey, you listening to me?” Anne pressed. “This is the only way we are going to effect change, mom,” Riley replied calmly. “You are not fighting this fight alone, Riley; let the larger groups with more resources do stuff like that. Stick to vandalism and anti-propaganda, okay? That’s what you are good at anyway.” “We had to do something big, mom!” “No, you didn’t. I told you, if I thought this was getting out of hand, I would revoke your emancipation. It would kill me to do it, but I’d rather you hate me than see you in prison…or worse.” “It’s not getting out of hand.” “You could have killed someone, Riley!” Her mother was trying to keep her voice level, but that one tested her. “We made sure we wouldn’t. We did our research, made sure no one was in the building.” “What if someone had stayed late?” “Well, no one did!” “But, what if?” Anne huffed angrily. Fighting was going to get nowhere. And the truth was, it really wasn’t like Anne disapproved of what her daughter had done, she just didn’t want to see her daughter get in trouble. “Look, I don’t want to fight, okay? But you know what could happen if they catch you, right?” “Yeah, mom, I do.” Best case scenario? Prison. Worst case scenario? Fostered with a family that would send her to some place like Brighter Days Academy where they’d force the kool-aid down her throat. “Are you really willing to risk that?” Kill me if I ever become like that. Those were the words Riley had spoken to Rei just that day. Riley wanted to say yes, that this fight was important enough to her that she’d risk the ego death of complete regression, and maybe there was some part of her that truly was dedicated enough to the ideal to risk it. But the truth was, the bombing hadn’t even been her idea, and she had been against it at first—not out of principle, but out of fear. But it was safer that her mother think it had been Riley’s idea—safer that Anne not know who truly led Rebel. Finally, Riley sighed and gave her mom a half smile, “can we go back to doing robberies?” She was making a joke only she would get; she had been against that too. Anne sighed in exasperation, “You know I didn’t like it when you did that either, but I’d prefer that to this. But I’d really prefer you stick with vandalism and anti-Hayes propaganda.” “Yeah, okay,” Riley agreed, genuinely hoping she could keep her end of that agreement but also genuinely worried she might not be allowed to.

Chapter 41: Subject: Request for Patrick's Nursery Enrolment Dear Mrs. Henderson, I trust this message finds you well. I am writing to discuss the possibility of enrolling Patrick back into your private nursery. As you are aware, Patrick has been undergoing a unique journey, embracing a lifestyle that combines the aspects of adulthood with the comforts of infancy. Currently, Patrick's daily routine revolves around diaper changes, feeding times, and play sessions. He thrives in an environment where his caregivers understand the intricacies of his needs. Here are some specifics: Diapering: Patrick requires frequent diaper changes throughout the day, and the caregivers need to be attentive to the state of his diapers. It's crucial that the changing process is handled with care and sensitivity. Feeding: Patrick is accustomed to a specific diet, including baby formula and carefully curated meals. His feeding times are integral to his daily schedule, and the transition from bottle to solid food is a gradual process. Nap Times: Similar to other toddlers, Patrick requires daily naps. The nursery should provide a cozy and safe space for him to rest, ensuring he gets the adequate sleep necessary for his well-being. Playtime: Engaging activities and playtime are essential for Patrick's development. Age-appropriate toys and interactions with other children, if available, would contribute positively to his overall experience. Patrick's mental state is for the most surprisingly positive and accepting of his new lifestyle. He has developed a childlike innocence and joy, finding happiness in the simplicity of toddlerhood. His interactions with others are marked by a charming blend of curiosity and trust, and he appears content with the nurturing care he receives. I understand the uniqueness of this situation and the challenges it may pose. However, I believe you having known Patrick during his first infancy and your private nursery, with its supportive environment and experienced staff, could provide the ideal setting for Patrick's continued well-being. I am more than willing to discuss any questions or concerns you may have, and I value your insight as we navigate this unconventional journey. Patrick's happiness and stability remain my top priorities, and I believe your nursery could offer the understanding and care he needs. Thank you for considering this request, and I look forward to hearing from you soon. Warm regards, Susan. Subject: RE: Request for Patrick's Nursery Enrolment Dear Susan, It was a pleasant surprise to receive your message, and I appreciate the detailed explanation of Patrick's unique situation. I must say, your openness and commitment to Patrick's well-being are truly commendable. In our line of work, we encounter various circumstances, and Patrick's case is undoubtedly one of a kind. However, I firmly believe in providing a safe and supportive environment for every child, regardless of age or circumstance. Given Patrick's positive mental state and your dedication to his happiness, I am more than happy to welcome him back into our nursery. We'll make sure he receives the specialized care and attention required for his unique journey. Our experienced staff is prepared to embrace this exceptional situation and provide the nurturing environment Patrick deserves. I must admit, it's not every day we have an adult in our care, but I'm confident our team will handle it with the utmost professionalism and a touch of humor. We're here to support both of you through this unconventional journey. I understand the challenges that come with accommodating an adult-sized individual in a setting designed for toddlers. Our furniture, like cribs, highchairs, and changing tables, is, of course, tailored to standard toddler sizes. However, rest assured that we are up for the challenge and will do our utmost to make Patrick's stay as comfortable as possible. We will explore various options to ensure Patrick has suitable sleeping arrangements, feeding equipment, and spaces for diaper changes. It may take some creativity and adaptation, but we're dedicated to making it work for him. To ensure Patrick's smooth transition, here's a list of items you may want to bring on his first day: Diapers: Please provide an ample supply of diapers to last through the day. Our changing facilities are equipped to handle toddler-sized diapers, so feel free to bring those that suit Patrick best. Change of Clothes: Pack a set of spare clothes in case of any accidents or spills. Make sure they're suitable for the season and activities he may engage in. Bottles: If Patrick has a preferred brand or type of bottle, please bring them along. We have a designated area for bottle feeding. Bibs: A few bibs will be useful during meal and snack times to keep his clothes clean. Pacifier: If Patrick uses a pacifier for comfort, bring one with you. We'll ensure he has access to it when needed. Comfort Item: If Patrick has a favorite stuffed animal or comfort item, feel free to bring it. Having a familiar object can provide reassurance during the transition. Special Instructions: If there are specific instructions or preferences regarding Patrick's care, dietary needs, or routines, please share them with us. We want to align our care with your expectations. In preparation for Patrick's enrollment, please let us know if there are any specific items or modifications you think would contribute to his well-being. We want to ensure a smooth transition for both Patrick and our nursery staff. I appreciate your trust in our ability to handle this unique situation, and I'm confident that with open communication and collaboration, we can create a positive and enriching experience for Patrick. Looking forward to welcoming Patrick back to our nursery soon. Warm regards, Mrs. Henderson Enrollment Form Child's Information: Full Name: Patrick Johnson Date of Birth: 19.07.2000 Gender: Male Allergies: None reported Medical Conditions: [If any, provide details] Special Requirements: Adult-sized diapers, baby-sized clothing, protein powder formula Parent/Guardian Information: Full Name: Susan Johnson Relationship to Child: Mother Contact Number: 25694879 Email Address: Emergency Contact: Full Name: Karen James Relationship to Child: Aunt Contact Number: 57498596 Healthcare Provider: Doctor's Name: Dr. Stevens Clinic Name: Stevens Pediatric and Medical Center Contact Number: 55998969 Special Instructions: Diapering: Adult-sized diapers provided, change as needed. Feeding: Protein powder formula provided in bottles. Please follow instructions on the formula can. Nap Schedule: Daily nap schedule as needed. Comfort Items: Pacifier, stuffed animal, and other comfort items provided by parent. Additional Notes: [Space for any additional notes or instructions] Agreements and Consents: Medical Consent: I, [Parent/Guardian's Full Name], hereby authorize [Daycare/Nursery Name] to seek medical attention for Patrick in case of emergency. Media Consent: I grant permission for photos and videos of Patrick to be taken for educational and promotional purposes. Parent/Guardian Signature: ______________________ Date: ___________ I sat in my playpen, surrounded by colorful toys and soft cushions, happily engaged in my little world. Mommy was busy at the table, scribbling on a piece of paper at the kitchen table. My attention shifted between the colorful blocks and Mommy's movements. The rhythmic scratch of her pen against paper created a soothing background noise as I played with my stuffed animals. The excitement of being enrolled in a nursery brought a mix of emotions—curiosity, anticipation, and a hint of nervousness. Glancing over, I saw Mommy furrowing her brow, absorbed in the details of the form. She occasionally looked my way, offering a warm smile to reassure me. Mommy set aside her pen and paper and approached the playpen with a gentle smile. My heart quickened as she knelt down to my eye level, the anticipation building with every second. "Guess what, sweetie?" Mommy's voice was warm, but I couldn't shake the butterflies in my stomach. "You're going to Mrs. Henderson's daycare starting next week!" Her words hung in the air, and a wave of mixed emotions washed over me—nervousness, fear, and confusion. Daycare meant a new environment, new faces, and a departure from the comfort of our home routine. I clutched a stuffed animal, my security in this whirlwind of emotions. "But Mommy, why?" I stammered, uncertainty evident in my eyes. As I clung to my stuffed animal, absorbing the news about Mrs. Henderson's daycare, Mommy gently continued to explain the reasons behind this upcoming change. "Sweetheart, Mommy has to go back to work at the office," she began, her tone tender as she sat down beside the playpen. "But don't worry, Mrs. Henderson's daycare is a safe and fun place for you to be while Mommy is at work. You'll have other little friends to play with, and I'll be back to pick you up every day." A mixture of understanding and uncertainty clouded my thoughts. Mommy's work—I vaguely remembered her mentioning it before, but the reality of her absence during the day was sinking in. She reached into the playpen, gently ruffling my hair. "Sweetheart, it's an opportunity for you to have more friends, play with other kids, and learn new things. Mrs. Henderson's nursery will be a fantastic place for you.” "But Mommy, why do you have to go to work? Can't you stay with me?" I queried, my voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. She sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. "Oh, sweetie, Mommy has to go to work so she can take care of us and make sure we have everything we need. It's part of being a grown-up. But remember, I'll always come back to you. Mrs. Henderson will take great care of you during the day, and we'll have our special time together when I'm back home." I tried to process her words, my mind grappling with the changes ahead. The idea of leaving the familiar surroundings of home was daunting. Mommy sensed my unease and gathered me into a comforting embrace. "I know it might feel a little strange at first, but you'll make friends, have fun, and learn so many exciting things at Mrs. Henderson's daycare. And I promise, when I come back home, we'll have lots of snuggles and playtime, just like always." "It's going to be okay, Patrick," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody. "Mrs. Henderson is wonderful, and you'll have so much fun. You'll make friends, learn new games, and I'll still be here for you every day when you come back home." Despite her comforting words, a sense of trepidation lingered. The unknown awaited me at Mrs. Henderson's daycare, and the thought of being away from Mommy for an extended period left me feeling vulnerable. A spark of defiance ignited within me, and I mustered the courage to voice my protest. "But Mommy, I'm a big boy! I can stay at home alone," I insisted, my determination flickering against the impending change. Mommy couldn't help but chuckle at my assertion. "Oh, my sweet little one, at one time you may have been able to, but right now you're not quite ready for that. Who would change your diapers, feed you, and make sure you're safe if Mommy isn't here?" she teased gently, her laughter resonating in her voice. I pondered her question for a moment, realizing the practicalities of my current situation. The simplicity of her response shattered my budding sense of independence. The reality was undeniable—At this point I relied on Mommy for every aspect of my care. A tidal wave of emotions overwhelmed me as the realization of my infantile dependence settled in. The impending prospect of daycare, a stark symbol of my regression, triggered a torrent of frustration and despair. I felt a surge of hot tears stinging my eyes, and a bitter taste of resentment filled my mouth. With an anguished cry, I let go of any remnants of composure, my infantile emotions spiraling into a full-blown tantrum. I kicked and flailed in the playpen, a small yet turbulent tempest of frustration. The colorful toys and padded walls, once my playful sanctuary, now felt like confining barriers amplifying my helplessness. “I used to be a big boy! Why can't I be a big boy? This isn't fair!" I wailed, my voice breaking with the weight of my shattered sense of autonomy. The reality of my existence hit me like a ton of bricks—I was a grown man, yet reduced to the status of an infant, incapable of fending for myself. In that moment, the playpen transformed into a crucible of emotions, the bars confining not just my physical form but also my psyche. I grappled with the stark reality that adulthood had slipped away, replaced by the dependency and vulnerability of infancy. Through my tumultuous sobs and cries, Mommy leaned over the playpen, her face a mix of sympathy and tenderness. With a soft and reassuring voice, she cooed in soothing baby talk, trying to bridge the gap between my adult mind and my regressed emotional state. "Hush, my little one. It's okay, shhh. Mommy is here, and everything will be okay," she crooned, her words a comforting melody amidst the chaos of my emotions. As she continued to speak in soft tones, her assurances painted a picture of a future where I would reclaim my status as a big boy. Her promises seemed to hang in the air, offering a glimmer of hope amid the tempest of my uncertainty. While I was still caught in the aftermath of my emotional outburst, Mommy delicately maneuvered her hand beneath my diaper, her touch gentle yet firm. A subtle crinkle filled the air as she checked the state of my diaper, her fingers exploring the squishy confines beneath. "There, there, my sweetie. Mommy will make it all better," she whispered, her babytalk intermingled with the rustling of the diaper. With practiced ease, she discerned that not only had I wet myself during the emotional upheaval, but a more substantial mess had occurred as well. The revelation, though met with my initial resistance, brought an unspoken truth to the forefront. In that moment, Mommy's baby talk shifted from soothing reassurances to a matter-of-fact acknowledgment. "It looks like my little one needs a fresh diaper. Such a messy boy," she teased in a light-hearted tone, her maternal instincts taking charge. I soon found myself flat on my back, strapped down to the changing table staring into the ceiling of my nursery. Mommy's fingers danced skillfully as she secured the tapes of the fresh diaper, the playful tone in her voice contrasting with the undeniable reality of the situation. "Oh, my messy little one. You're not quite ready for big boy pants, are you?" she chuckled, the teasing edge woven into her babytalk. I squirmed a bit, a mix of embarrassment and acknowledgment of the truth, all while the crinkling sound of the diaper being fastened underscored the lighthearted banter. Mommy continued her playful commentary, gently tapping my nose. "Nope, not ready for those big boy undies. Silly boy, thinking Mommy’s little sweetheart could handle that," she continued, her words painted with affectionate amusement. The nursery seemed to echo with the rustle of diapers and the soft cadence of Mommy's voice While the humor in her tone suggested a jest, it carried a deeper resonance—one that reminded me of the limitations imposed on me by my current state. As the final touches of the diaper change were completed, the realization that my journey back to adulthood was not an immediate prospect settled in.

"May you live in interesting times!" is an old Chinese curse. The modern British version might be "May you live in a listed building!" meaning one of historical interest. It might be a privilege but it results in having council jobsworths inspecting and interfering everywhere to ensure compliance with the regulations. Pembroke, unfortunately, was one such "interesting" building, and deservedly so. Dating from heaven-knows-when, and updated every century since, it was a palimpsest of different constructions. The oldest, and least modified, was the old laundry, which had been the kitchen block for the original house, and was now just a bare shell. I remembered it from my childhood with mixed feelings, full of washing machines and driers, with lots of nappies and plastic pants hanging out to dry. I can't think I used all that many, but it was better than hanging them out on the washing line in the public view. Now, with fewer children around it was still convenient for hanging out nappies, mostly those of my daughters, without attracting public attention. Thankfully the girls preferred disposables, and so there were very few of them. Now that Pembroke itself had been largely restored, including a complete rewiring necessitated after I kept getting electric shocks off the water taps, I had to decide what to do with the old kitchen/laundry. My aged parents were getting more aged by the day, and the idea occurred to me that it might be possible to convert the building into a cottage to house them where I could keep an eye on them. Not a bad idea, until the council inspector found out about it. Eventually he was compromised, persuaded, threatened and bribed into agreeing and work proceeded. I just made sure that all the nappies and plastic pants were taken out first, and let the builders in. I did have a bad moment when their young lad presented me with a nappy pin, found in a crevice in the floor, but hopefully I didn't blush too much. It was in excellent condition and I could reuse it. At least I was getting something back from a very costly conversion job. Problems abounded. Grace, my model agency, was not doing so well, and Julian was planning to retire. It needed a shot in the arm of some sort to revitalise it. Christmas was coming and I had been persuaded to host the family, with everybody anxious to see all the improvements I made to the family seat. I was hoping the laundry conversion would show some progress by then, but the builders were being builders and taking their time. Just before the Christmas break they had only got as far as stripping the old plaster off the huge chimney breast that dated back to the days when it was a kitchen for the big house - safely detached in case of fire. I wanted to keep the fireplace bare ; it would make a lovely centre to the lounge. The family arrived bit by bit, until Uncle Percy's family arrived, complete with grandchildren. They all lived locally so there was no need to put the little ones up in the nursery, although it was still proving its worth when they needed changing. They had to be watched; Percy had wound them up with the old legend about pirate Jack Sinclair's treasure being hidden somewhere inside the house, and they were rampaging around trying to find it. I didn't want the walls of my nicely re-decorated bedrooms being pounded to pieces as they tried to find hollow bits. There were plenty of creaking floorboards available, most of which I had tried in my childhood - without success. I went in to the nursery just before lunch, and found changes in progress. Viola's daughter Alison had obviously been done, and was not too happy at being found there, backing into a corner as I came in. Chloe, Alice's eldest, was running her fingers around the leg elastics, adjusting them for comfort as was allowed. Only little Gina was still on the changing table and completely unabashed. At five years old and the youngest, she had no reason to be embarrassed while the older girls were wearing nappies too, and she greeted me cheerfully. I felt a tiny bit envious of their neatly-fitted nappies and the comfort and sense of security they provided, but I couldn't emulate them here. The big ones were safely locked away in the big cupboard at the end. After the holiday, perhaps, over the New Year, I would indulge myself. I went down to the lounge, where Peter was regaling Matt and Percy with stories of the Belize Confrontation over a rapidly-declining bottle of Sherry. I made a point of topping up Dad's glass before retreating to the kitchen, where sister Juliet and her daughter, the indefatigable Sally, were working on the Christmas lunch. Lunch happened in the same old way, but with Matt at the head of the table and myself at the foot, even though Admiral Sir Peter was present; I was the lady of Pembroke, and I took precedence. Such was my moment of triumph. The children sat at a side table, which allowed them a bit of liberty, although Sally kept a sharp eye on them. At least any serious accidents would be well contained. They were allowed to leave the table whenever they were replete, only us adults had to remain to toast the King. Then we went to listen to his speech. We sat a while before Matt got busy on the computer, and arranged a video call to Vickie and Simon in Washington in which we all partook. Simon's position as Naval attaché meant he was effectively on duty all the time, and they couldn't make it over here. The five-hour time difference meant it was still morning over there, but the generation of feeling was still very strong. After a while, the conversation migrated to my restoration of Pembroke, which met with great approval, and I mentioned the work being done to convert the laundry into a cottage, which was met with some cynicism by Percy and Juliet. They asked me how did I expect our nonagenarian parents to ever cope with the stairs? In fairness, I admitted it hadn't occurred to me. "Let's go and look at it!" said Peter and there was a general stirring. We all migrated to the kitchen door, but as I passed the toilet I felt I needed to go, however, I was pushed along by the crowd. It wasn't too cold outside and soon we were in the shelter of the laundry, lit by the naked bulbs of the building team. That was much brighter than I remember, although it's usual decor of drying nappies was absent. Juliet looked around an sniffed "Not much room here. Are you planning to restore the first floor?" I nodded. We looked at the huge chimney breast that dominated the room, now stripped of its plaster and naked in its brickwork. "What's that?" said Alison. "Well that's where the fireplace was. It was a kitchen, so they had a very big one." I replied. Huge, ugly, but a handsome feature. "No, I meant That!" she protested pointing at the arch of bricks in the side of the fireplace. "Oh, that would have been the bread oven, a big hole where they put the lumps of dough to bake into bread." I replied. It was all bricked up years and years ago, but the bricks were modern, not the thin Tudor bricks like the rest of the chimney breast. Alison, the oldest of the three, walked over with a hammer from the builder's toolbag and hit the bricks. "Sounds hollow!" she said. "Oh Gawd," I thought, "we're back to hunting treasure. I need the toilet!" It was becoming pressing. Little Georgina toddled over and reached up, the hemline of her dress lifted and showed that she had already solved that problem and needed a change. For a moment I was distracted, and envied her such a simple solution. "That would be a terrific feature if we opened it up and put some brass ornaments in there to catch the light!" said Juliet "Let's try!" said Haldane, heretofore unusually quiet, and he stepped over to the builder's bag and picked out a hammer and chisel. Peter did the same. This was going to get dusty, so I used the excuse to pick up Georgina and slip out of the door, nodding to Alice and mentioning that I would give her child a change. Alice nodded, and made a beeline for her elder daughter, doubtless with the same objective. Pleasantly relieved, I expected the girls to stay in the warmth of the nursery, but they would have none of it, so they were allowed to put on their coats and return to the laundry. When I, also coated, made it back, there were several bricks missing from the hole and both Peter and Haldane were hammering vigorously. "There's something in there!" exclaimed Alison, jumping up and down with excitement as two more bricks hit the floor. "Big wooden box!" added Haldane. "Weighs a ton!" said Peter. They both reached in, and muscles strained as they pulled the box forward, grinding on the dirt. It reached beyond the lip of the oven when gravity asserted itself and it overbalanced and fell to the floor with a mighty crash. One corner broke open, and a torrent of coins slipped out, gleaming gold in the light of the single bulb.

Chapter 40: Splish, splash, giggles, and bubbles filled the air as Mommy carefully maneuvered me through the soapy waters. The rubber duckie bobbed nearby, seemingly joining in our playful symphony. The bathwater embraced the warmth of the room, creating a cocoon of comfort that softened the reality of my peculiar situation. "Time to get out, my little water sprite!" Mommy chimed, her voice infused with a delightful mix of motherly care and gentle playfulness. She reached for the fluffy towel, her blue eyes locked onto mine. The anticipation of what would follow tugged at the edges of my consciousness, a blend of childish delight and lingering reluctance. With practiced ease, Mommy guided me from the tub, cradling me against her chest as I stepped onto the bathroom floor. The soft towel enveloped my wet body as she began the tender task of drying me off. "There we go, snug as a bug," she cooed, a melodic rhythm in her voice that seemed to transcend the ordinary. Every gentle rub of the towel was accompanied by a soothing word, weaving a narrative of care and affection. As she dried between my toes, I couldn't help but squirm, as he tickled my feet. Mommy's fingers lingered, delicately patting my bare bottom, and a soft sigh escaped my lips. There was a peculiar intimacy in this routine, a vulnerability laid bare beneath the guise of innocent play. The remnants of bathwater glistened on my skin. The bathroom, once a mundane space, had transformed into a sanctuary of soothing rituals and tender moments. I stared into Mommy's eyes, a silent exchange of understanding passing between us. With a final brush of the towel against my damp hair, she set the towel aside. As Mommy cradled me in her arms, I turned my face ever so slightly and caught a gimps of our reflections in the bathroom mirror. The surface awaited offering an unfiltered glimpse of the transformed being I had become. The sight that met my eyes elicited a strange mixture of awe and melancholy. The once robust physique of a 20-something-year-old had succumbed to the whims of a peculiar regression, leaving me adorned in baby pudge that seemed to soften every contour. I squinted at the reflection, trying to reconcile the image with the memories of my former self. The manhood that had once defined my masculinity had seemingly vanished, replaced by the innocent curves of a toddler's physique. My gaze lingered on the reflection, a silent observer of the enigma that now stared back at me. "See, isn't that a cute little baby in the mirror?" Mommy cooed, her voice a gentle reminder of the role I now inhabited. The mirror offered no protest, faithfully reflecting the transformation that had taken root within me. The stark reality was softened by the tenderness in Mommy's voice, a reassurance that echoed through the confines of our shared space. Mommy's gaze met mine in the mirror, her eyes conveying a blend of understanding and unwavering affection. "There's my precious little one," she murmured, as if coaxing me to accept the image that now defined my existence. With a gentle sway, Mommy guided me out of the bathroom, my bare bottom and shrunken manhood completely exposed as we traversed the familiar terrain of our home, Mommy's reassuring coos providing a comforting backdrop to the ongoing saga of my transformation. Upon reaching the nursery, Mommy gently guided me onto the changing table. The surface, adorned with the familiar softness of a changing pad, cradled me as Mommy prepared to orchestrate the nightly ritual of diapering. The air was filled with the subtle scent of baby powder, a fragrance that now seamlessly intertwined with the fabric of my daily life. As I lay there, Mommy's hands moved with practiced grace as she swiftly went to work, using baby wipes to cleanse and refresh my sensitive skin. The cool touch of the wipes against my nether regions elicited a reflexive squirm—a reminder that, despite the veneer of adulthood that lingered in my consciousness, my body had embraced the sensitivities of infancy. A sprinkle of baby powder followed, its delicate fragrance enveloping the air. Mommy's hands, warm and nurturing, worked diligently to secure the nighttime diaper around me. The crinkling symphony resumed as the tapes adhered to the soft plastic surface, cocooning me in a layer of protective padding. Mommy guided me into a cozy footed sleeper, its soft fabric cocooning me in warmth. The footed sleeper, cradled me in a plush cocoon of softness and warmth. Its fabric, a delicate blend of pastel hues and whimsical patterns. The footies, adorned with tiny, non-slip prints, completed the ensemble, ensuring every inch of my lower extremities was embraced by the cozy embrace of babywear. As Mommy expertly zipped up the sleeper, the metallic hum of the zipper resonated like a lullaby, weaving a sense of security with every inch it closed. The cuffs of the sleeper, hugging my wrists and ankles, created a barrier against the cool night air, cocooning me in a sensory embrace. The whimsical patterns adorning the sleeper told a story of teddy bears, playful clouds, and the innocence of childhood. Nestled in Mommy's comforting embrace, she cradled me in the plush cushions of the rocking chair. The rhythmic creak of the chair blended harmoniously with the soft hum of nursery rhymes playing in the background, creating a soothing melody. The bottle, a familiar companion in these nurturing moments, was gently pressed to my lips. The nipple, once a conduit for regular nourishment, now delivered a concoction that sent ripples of surprise through my taste buds. The liquid within, an unusual blend of sweetness and a subtle tanginess, danced on my tongue in a symphony of unexpected flavors. The sweetness, reminiscent of childhood treats, carried hints of nostalgia that momentarily whisked me away to simpler times. Yet, underlying the sweetness there lingered a faint sour note. As I suckled on the bottle, my eyes met Mommy's gaze. The warmth in her eyes, coupled with the tender cradle of her arms, provided reassurance in the face of this unexpected twist in my nightly routine. Mommy cradled me in her arms, the rocking chair swaying gently as I took hesitant sips from the bottle. The taste, a perplexing blend of sweetness and tanginess, had caught me off guard, leaving a furrowed brow and a quizzical expression on my face. "Oh, sweetheart, don't you worry," Mommy cooed, her voice a soothing melody. "It's just the special protein powder that Dr. Stevens recommended for you. It's going to help you grow big and strong. Her words carried a reassuring tone, attempting to alleviate any confusion that lingered in my babyish mind. The mention of protein powder, a dietary addition suggested by the pediatrician during our visit over a week ago, explained the unexpected flavor profile. Mommy reached for a nearby shelf, carefully extracting a brightly colored canister. My eyes focused on the container she held in her hands. In the haze of my sleepy, infantilized state, the can seemed to blur at the edges, its details swimming in a swirl of pastel hues. With a gentle coo, Mommy presented the can to me, her fingers tracing its label as if revealing a cherished secret. The can, adorned with playful illustrations and soft lettering, resembled something familiar yet elusive. "It's your special formula, sweetheart," Mommy whispered, her voice a lullaby. "Dr. Stevens said it's going to make you big and strong." With a resigned sigh, I relinquished my attempt to decipher the label on the canister. The symbols and words remained elusive, shrouded in the haze of my infantile mindset. Closing my eyes, I embraced the rhythmic suckling on the baby bottle, its silicone nipple a familiar presence between my lips. As the sweet concoction flowed into my mouth, a curious blend of flavors unfolded on my tongue. The unexpected sweetness and subtle tang of the protein-infused liquid stirred my senses, each sip a reminder of the mysterious canister's contents. The world beyond the closed lids of my eyes retreated, and I surrendered to the comforting embrace of the rocking chair, the gentle sway echoing the lull of Mommy's whispers. The act of suckling on the bottle became a rhythmic dance, a soothing ritual that whisked away the complexities of yet another day.

Did they just teach about Civics or did they teach about other Honda's to?

I tried to search, but couldn't find this one.

I've done that before. Once I sat down, read your thread, then wrote up something of my own, which didn't even referenced what you'd written... and then posted it on your thread, thinking I had at some point moved over to mine. It would be like me coming to Australia and then inviting some friends over for beers in your backyard. Which I would tell you about, while we were sitting in your backyard. "Oh, by the way..."

Part 22 Noelle, in fact, did not come rushing downstairs to put an end to all this. She was no doubt still working or relaxing upstairs, blissfully unaware what was going on during her babysitting break. As annoyed as I was that she refused to listen to me, thanks to how the real Miley was a manipulative little brat, it’s not like this was actually Noelle’s fault. Most of the blame fell on Paige, as well as her friends. Despite everything, however, I could fully pin this on my sister. I could have stayed upstairs with Noelle and played the part of an academically driven ‘Miley.’ Before taking a single step into the basement, I had known that I would be outnumbered and at a total disadvantage. Instead of waiting it out and maybe convincing the babysitter to make a phone call at some point after playing things safe for a while, I had taken the bait that had come in the form of my ID being flashed to me. And here I was, desperate enough for my driver’s license that I was about to cut up three of my best bras just to hear the deal that Paige had in mind. I couldn’t delay things forever. Since Violet had told me not to rush, I could justify not jumping right into the first cut, but only for so long. At the same time, I didn’t want to look scared or hesitant in front of Paige and all of her friends. They were already treating me like I was her younger sister, and the last thing I needed was to give them another reason to tease or taunt me. So I took a mental breath for courage, resisting the urge to do so out loud as well, and snipped the lace bra between the cups. “Your poor bra!” Paige giggled. Her demeanor didn’t match her sentiment in the slightest. “Keep going, little sister. You have sixty seconds to do all three, or the deal is off.” Wait, what? “Paige, you-” “59 seconds,” she said. “But don’t go too fast,” Violet reminded me. “58 seconds.” “Okay, okay! You don’t have to count every second,” I groaned. No longer putting the task off, I tried to split the difference between what both girls were telling me. Watching the cups of the ruined bra fall apart had been the worst part, so the next bit was more manageable anyway. I held up the white lace for everyone to see, and methodically cut both sides of the band off next, followed by the straps. More or less the same way Paige had done it, so the bra cups were no longer attached to anything. Or, in other words, so there was no way the nice undergarment could be salvaged. I went through the same process with the black bra, internally cringing at the first cut. It was such a simple action on the surface, but it was also painful to watch something so personal and so expensive be destroyed just like that. There wasn’t much time to linger on those feelings, as Paige was happy to announce that I only had thirty seconds left. I cut up the rest of the bra more efficiently, then handed the pieces to Violet. She had taken the first little pile of fabric off my lap, so I went with the option that better maintained my personal space the second time around. If Paige hadn’t put a clock on me, I would have hesitated a little more when it came to the sky blue bra. It was such a good color on me, especially in terms of complementing my hair, and it also one of the best ‘special occasion’ bras I owned in terms of making my not so impressive chest look a little more sexy and mature with the way it hugged my upper curves and created more cleavage than I normally had. Not quite as amazing as the dark green number, but a close second, especially with how it looked with the matching thong. I prayed that this one was still in stock, and hadn’t been rotated out for a new collection. That was most likely the case, although maybe I could find it online or something. Either way, I couldn’t dwell on it. Ripping off the bandaid before my sister’s countdown gave her the option to smugly proclaim that I had cut up all my bras for nothing, I sliced through the light blue cups and hoped that my face didn’t show the instant regret of doing so. I was in too deep at this point, anyway. Including the bra Paige had destroyed, I had already lost three. In the grand scheme of things, four wasn’t that much worse. Although the process had certainly been bookended with my favorites; the maroon and the sky blue were easily in my top three. I tried to take some solace in the fact that my selfish step-sister would definitely be on the hook for this when our parents returned from their trip. I’d have to buy some new bras within a few days to replace the ones now in shreds, but I could live with that if I knew she would be stuck reimbursing me in a month or two. And, on top of that, getting in trouble for putting me through all this and maybe also taking some heat for causing the real Miley to be living it up this weekend without a sitter. Similar to the last couple bras, the first cut was the worst and most daunting part. Once I got through that, the damage had already been done, and it was easier to make myself snip through the straps and band. Once again refraining from letting out an audible sigh of annoyance and frustration, I passed over the third and final bra to Violet. “Well, that was fun,” Paige said, “And good job, Miley. You did it with about five seconds to spare. Although we’re not quite done yet, are we? The deal was for your bras AND underwear, remember?” For a moment, I thought she was going to somehow go back on her word or come up with a barely logical loophole. Something that would put more of my bras in danger, and simultaneously testing to see how far I would let her move the goalpost. Instead, she brought up something that was very much within the original bet we had made. While losing a few pairs of nicer underwear wasn’t the end of the world now that the more expensive part of the set had already been ruined, it was still another way for Paige to ‘innocently’ stall. We both knew what I was waiting for, and why I was down here in the first place, but first I had to suffer through losing more of my delicates beyond just having them taken from my drawer. More insult to injury, considering the violation of her entering my bedroom and confiscating countless things was already a lot to deal with when we normally had boundaries as sisters. “Ooh, can I have a turn?” Annika asked, “I mean, I totally deserve it. She called me a bitch, plus I was obviously carrying our team.” “Sure,” Paige nodded, “But I totally helped. You can’t take all the credit.” “Mm hmm. Whatever you say! First, I want Miley to apologize. It’s fucking rude to use language like that, especially when saying it to an older girl who literally did nothing wrong.” “Good idea. There’s literally no reason for a girl your age to be swearing anyway, sis. How about an apology?” I looked at both of them in disbelief. Was cutting up my precious bras not enough? Everyone in the room knew I didn’t actually say anything like that a few minutes ago, and yet they were still continuing the fantasy anyway. I found myself caught in another obnoxious lose/lose situation. Argue, and they would all back each other up. Go along with it, and feed into the bullshit claim about what I had said. Plus this was just another way to drag all of this out further, when I was trying to expedite this part to the best of my ability. Watching my underwear get cut up by Paige’s friend without a word of protest was one thing, since I had begrudgingly agreed to the earlier bet. But apologizing to her for something I hadn’t even said? That didn’t make any sense. In the back of my mind, I knew that simply saying ‘sorry’ anyway was the quickest route forward. Still, I couldn’t just roll over when I had already done so much as ‘Miley’ for them. “Just finish the bet,” I rolled my eyes. Gesturing to the bag of underwear and bras, I said what we all knew, “That was the deal. I didn’t call Annika anything.” “Rude,” Annika replied, “Last chance, Miley. Sure you don’t want to apologize?” Honestly, I wasn’t. It was such a dumb hill to die on, especially when I had already suffered through ‘anything you say, Paige’ and ‘I’m Miley.’ It was a little embarrassing how quickly my resolve crumbled, although I took a little solace in the fact that I was only allowing myself to cave in the name of getting all of this over with. “Fine,” I muttered, unintentionally sounding a bit like a girl who was the real Miley’s age thanks to how forced and blunt the apology came out, “I’m sorry.” “Better than nothing,” Annika shrugged, “Would’ve preferred a real apology, but I guess little Miley hasn’t learned how to properly do something like that. I blame you, Paige. Aren’t older sisters supposed to set a good example?” “It’s not my fault,” Paige rolled her eyes, “She’s always been a stuck-up little bitch. Honestly, I’m not surprised Noelle assumed things the way she did. Apparently we’re not the only ones who can see right through you, sis.” Fuck her. Except I was already being made to apologize for swearing that I didn’t say. If I was baited into cursing any of them out for real, getting my ID would take even longer. Of course, it didn’t help that all of them were now constantly swearing while simultaneously getting on my case about it. The frequency was no doubt intentional, and I tried not to let the annoyance show on my face. “You are kind of like Miley, aren’t you?” Violet chimed in. She pulled me a little closer by our linked arms. “I’ve only seen her once or twice, but she’s about your size.” “What else?” Paige asked, “Let’s see . . . our Miley is a pain in the ass.” “Our Miley thinks she knows best,” Dakota said. Shannon added, “And is a total brat about it, too. She’s so shrill when she gets up on that high horse.” “Kind of whiny, too,” Annika giggled, before shifting to a higher pitch, “You’re using up all the internet. And the hot water!” “You really do whine a lot, sis,” Paige said. She picked up the bag full of my undergarments and set it on Annika’s lap. “That’s why this will be good for you. Just sit still, Miley, and be quiet. We’ll chat when Annika is done.” ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Babysitter" (40+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Chapter 4: Eyes that know too much Aidan caught my eye, and in it, I saw a flicker of understanding—or was it pity? His hand found mine, a firm grip that yanked me back to the present, away from the suffocating cloud of embarrassment. Weaving through the throng of students, he led me like I was some lost kid at a fair. I could feel the stares drilling into my back, the whispers that scuttled from mouth to ear. "Check out diaper boy," someone snickered, a jab that knotted my insides tighter. Aidan notices my distress and squeezes my hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, little guy," he says softly. "We'll get you cleaned up quickly and get you back to your day.” * * * The door to the changing station swung open, and the scene inside mocked everything I was. Huge changing tables lined the walls, their surfaces gleaming under the bright lights. Each one bore straps decorated with cartoons – grinning bears and dancing rabbits – their cheerfulness a stark contrast to the dread knotting my stomach. I clenched my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms as if they could anchor me to a reality where this wasn't happening. But it was no use; this was Amazonia's reality, and I was caught in its snare. Aidan guided me to one of the tables. "It's for your own good," he said softly. But his words sounded hollow against the backdrop of infantile illustrations staring back at me. "I'm not some... some baby," I muttered, the fight simmering beneath my breath. My underwear felt like a thin shield of dignity that I clung to desperately. "No one thinks you are," Aidan tried to reassure me. But we both knew it was a lie painted over an unforgiving truth. I stumbled against the table's edge, its height forcing me to crane my neck upward. The cold surface seemed to wait for me with open arms – an invitation to surrender all that I was. A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined myself lying there, helpless and exposed. "You don't have to do this," I pleaded one last time, hoping for an ounce of mercy in Aidan's eyes. But all he did was offer a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's just how things are done here," he whispered as if sharing a secret I already knew but wished to forget. I looked down at my hands, now open and empty by my sides. The defiance drained from them like water through open fingers, leaving behind only the dread of what was about to come. "Please," I begged, my voice cracking under the weight of my plea. "Just let me clean myself up. I don't need... this." I gestured helplessly at the looming tables with their juvenile restraints. He looked at me with those eyes that seemed to understand too much, yet offered no reprieve. "Listen, it's not about what you need or don't need. It's about following the rules here. You know that." Anger flared within me, a desperate fire against the cold reality of his words. "But these aren't my rules!" I shouted, louder than I intended. "I'm not one of your... your little to be diapered and coddled!" Aiden's expression softened for a moment, but it was like watching empathy from behind a glass wall – close enough to see, too far to touch. "I know you're not," he said quietly. "But causing a scene won't change anything." "Fine," I said at last, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "Do what you must." And with that surrender. Aiden's hands were gentle, but firm as they guided my wrists into the straps. "There we go, just a little snug so you don't wiggle around too much," he cooed, the straps clicking into place. His voice held that sing-song quality used on unruly kids, grating against my every nerve. I tugged at the restraints, a futile attempt to free myself. The straps held fast, unyielding. I exhaled a defeated sigh, feeling every bit the part of a misbehaving child they saw me as. "Now let's get you out of those icky pants," Aiden continued, his tone absurdly soothing as he peeled away the last of my dignity along with my soiled clothes. "Accidents happen, but we'll have you all fresh and clean in no time!" I lay there, stripped of more than just my clothes—stripped of pride, autonomy, adulthood. "I'm not a kid," I murmured, the protest weak even to my own ears. Aiden chuckled softly. "Of course you're not. You're just a big boy who had a little mishap. Happens to the best of us!" His words felt like pats on the head, well-meaning but utterly patronizing. Heat crept up my cheeks as I lay there exposed, the childish prints on the straps mocking me from above. "Just... just get it over with," I muttered, wishing I could sink through the table and disappear. His hands, steady and impersonal, slipped under my knees, lifting them with a practiced ease that had no place in my world of wrenches and engines. "This isn't how it's supposed to be," I muttered, my voice betraying a tremble I hadn't intended. The smell was overwhelming, and I squirmed in discomfort as he reached for a warm, wet wipe. The wipe was rough against my skin as he scrubbed away at the mess, paying special attention to the creases and folds where dirt tended to accumulate. It was an intimate and humiliating experience, but I felt a sense of relief as the wipe began to clean me up. As he continued to clean me, I could feel his fingers probing deeper into my crevices, searching for any traces of waste that may have been missed. It was an invasive feeling, but I remained still and cooperative as he worked. "There you go, almost done," he cooed, as if his soothing tone could somehow make the situation less degrading. "It's not fair," I grumbled under my breath, the words spilling out like oil from a leaky gasket. "I'm not some kid who can't handle himself." "I know it doesn't seem fair," Aiden replied, his voice calm and infuriatingly reasonable. "But it's just how things work around here. You'll get used to it." * * * My eyes fix on Aidan as he grabs a diaper from the stack, the sound of it fluffing up like some mocking applause. He unfolds it with a swift motion, his hands practiced and sure. I can't believe this is happening. The plastic backing crinkles loudly in the silent room. "Legs up, Bix," Aidan instructs, his voice calm and without a trace of mockery. I comply, feeling every shred of my dignity peeling away with the sound of the diaper rustling beneath me. He slides it under my backside, the cool touch of the inner lining sending a shiver up my spine. The front gets pulled up between my legs, snug against my skin. "Easy now, it'll be over before you know it," he says, almost gently. I clench my jaw to keep from spitting out the anger boiling inside me. The tapes secure with a definitive ripping sound, each one a nail in the coffin of my adulthood. He adjusts the fit, ensuring it's tight enough not to leak but not so much that it'd chafe. "This is ridiculous," I grumbled, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into my voice. "It's just how things are done here," Aiden replied, sliding the diaper under me with an efficiency that only deepened my humiliation. "Better safe than sorry, right?" Aidan unbuckles the straps that held me down during this ordeal and helps me off the table with a firm hand under my arm. As I find my feet, he gives a pat to the back of my newly adorned garment, making me cringe at the soft puffing noise it makes against my backside. "See? All done," Aidan says with an infuriating hint of pride in his voice. I stand there for a moment, frozen by humiliation and disbelief. Then, almost involuntarily, my hand drifts down to explore this alien thing hugging my hips. I press against it; the childish drawings on its surface – little rockets and stars – —the bulk between my legs and the way it forced my thighs apart just slightly do nothing to comfort me. Instead, they scream out that I'm no longer seen as an adult here. I sigh heavily, feeling each crinkle echo through the room like distant thunder. "Happy now?" I mutter bitterly under my breath. "Thanks," I muttered sarcastically. "Nothing like being babied to boost your self-esteem." Aiden's expression softened slightly. "Hey, don't let it get to you. You're not the first to have an accident around here." "Yeah? Well, it doesn't exactly feel like an accomplishment." I sighed heavily and looked down at myself—a grown man dressed in what was essentially an oversized baby diaper decorated with flying cartoons. I took an experimental step and winced at the unmistakable sound that followed. This was going to be a long semester. *** Aiden snagged my hand, his grip firm, like I was some wayward toddler instead of a guy who had built his first engine at ten. "Come on, Bix, let's get you home." I yanked back, the heat of anger flushing my cheeks. "No way am I walking across campus like this!" He tilted his head, and his voice dropped to that singsong lilt Bigs used when they thought they were being soothing. "Don't throw a fit, little man. You don't want a spanking here, do you?" My teeth clenched so tight I thought they might crack. The threat, wrapped in childish taunting, made my blood boil. But what choice did I have? A public spanking would only add to my current shame. So, I fell into step beside him, my shoes scuffing against the floor as if to voice my silent protest. I was a bundle of raw nerves, every sound and sensation amplified. And then it happened—the sudden warmth spreading against my skin, the softness beneath me giving way to an unmistakable squish. My stomach lurched; this couldn't be real. My steps faltered as the mess shifted with each movement—a grim reminder of my current state. Aiden glanced over, no sympathy in his eyes. "Keep moving," he ordered. But I was rooted to the spot, terror freezing me as another wave of warmth flooded the front of the diaper. Giggles from passing Bigs pierced me like a barrage of bullets. Laughter bubbled up around us like poison gas—Bigs snickering as they passed by. Their eyes were on me, on the sagging diaper now heavy with my shame. "Looks like someone's had an accident," one called out in amusement. "Aw, does the little baby need his mommy?" another teased with a cruel smile. Aiden tugged on my hand again, harder this time. "We don't have all day." I stumbled forward, the weight of the used diaper dragging me down with every step. It clung to me like a second skin—a loathsome, squelching layer that broadcasted my humiliation with each movement. As we walked on—Aiden unfazed and me fighting back tears—I could feel it sagging between my legs, the once crisp material now a sodden mess sticking uncomfortably to my thighs. The padding squished audibly beneath me, a constant reminder of what had just transpired. The dorms loomed ahead—a sanctuary in sight—but with each step I took in that disgusting diaper, it felt more like a walk of shame than anything else.

4. The Bathroom Break “So, in between the men’s and women’s toilets, there’s a unisex locking door toilet with a baby change station. You two head there first, and I’ll follow shortly after. When you hear this knock”, she demonstrated on the table,” open the door for me”. She winked at them and said, “OK – off you go pumpkins!”. Mikey and Josh got up and headed to the toilets. Mikey could see Josh was trying his best to conceal his diaper waddle as much as he was. They reached the empty bathroom - looked around (no one was watching) and both ducked in the bathroom. They stood there behind the closed door. “Uhhhm – k-kind of weird, huh?” Josh said to him as he nervously giggled. “Uhhm… haha… uhm ya.” Mikey replied, blushing heavily. They stood there awkwardly for 30 seconds both keenly aware of the strange, crazy, and unreal situation they were in – both in nervous anticipation of what was going to happen next. The knock came at the door. She strode in, locked the door behind her, went right for the toilet at the back of the room and sat down on it. She lifted up her tight leather skirt and spread her legs. She was not wearing underwear and they could both see her glistening pussy as she looked them in the eyes. “Ok sweethearts, lets drop those pants now and undo your jumpers.” They instantly obeyed and started undoing the straps to their overall jeans. They did not look at her as their pants fell to their ankles and they both reached under their crotches to undo the snaps to their baby jumpers. They both pulled down their plastic pants to their ankles and hiked their hoodies and jumpers up to their chest. She started caressing her pussy in front of them, getting a good long look at their slender early 20s hairless bodies in their bulky diapers. “Mmm… Ok - peepee time babies!” she said, “I want to see those wet patches spreading”. They both had a bout of stage fright and couldn’t really go. They struggled in front of her, eyes closed, knock kneed – trying to make a peepee for Mommy. “C’mon little ones,” she breathed, “tinkle, tinkle!” As she said this, she let go a stream of pee from between her open legs and it splashed loudly into the toilet. He heard a sigh from Josh and realized he had started peeing as the yellow patch spread across the front of his diaper. At that Mikey let go with a loud groaning “aaahhh” and flooded his diaper with hot peepee. They were all peeing together. To Mikey it was a blissful moment that seemed to go on for several minutes. The hot piss absorbing into the front of his diaper, the tickle as the remainder ran down and dripped off his smooth shaved balls into the crotch beneath. They both sighed and squeezed their legs together to feel the warm comforting wetness. They all finished at roughly the same time. The boys stood there now with their wet expanded disposable diapers bulging between their legs. Looking fully absorbed in how good it felt to be in a wet diaper in front of Mommy. “Phew – wasn’t that just lovely?” Mommy said, “Ok little Mikey, waddle yourself over in front of Mommy, and kneel down in front of her. Mommy doesn’t like using the nasty toilet paper in these public restrooms.” He did as commanded and soon had his face inches from her pink wet mommy pussy. “Come here and stand behind him Joshy”, as he did this, she wet two of her fingers thoroughly in her sopping pussy and stuck them in Joshes mouth. He stared sucking them and moaning. “OK, Mikey baby, you clean Mommy up down there real good!” She shoved his face between her legs and Mikey started lapping up Mommy’s dribbling pee and juices thoroughly and slowly. She closed her eyes and moaned as the boys lapped up what she gave them. “Mmmm… Ok my sweeties, stand up in front of mommy again and show her your diapees”. They stood there in front of her as she felt the front of their hot pissy diapers. The were both extremely hard now and Mikey could tell that Josh had a much bigger cock than his pathetic little sissy clit. She breathed softly as she squeezed there hardons under their wet diapers. “Turn around boys and lean over the sink counter”, she ordered. As they did this, she slipped both her hands down the back of their diapers. Her fingers found their way to the boys bumholes and she started rubbing them – mixing her fingers into the hot pissy baby oil and Vaseline. They both gasped as she pushed her index fingers deep into their boy holes. She moved them around searchingly. They both bent further over the sink counter and moaned as she playfully finger fucked them. “Ohh, little Joshy is almost ready, Good boy!” as she said this Mikey realized she was doing a poopoo check – seeing if there was one ready to come out. “Little Mikey has longer to go – but Mommy will fix that”, she pushed her finger harder in Mikeys bum making him wince. Suddenly she pulled both her hands out of their diapers. “Ok babies, lets get back to the table – people will start to get suspicious…hehehe…. Get yourself dressed back up! No changies yet! There's still room in there for more!” She was laughing as she left the bathroom. She didn’t lock the door and a woman almost came into the toilet after her and saw two horny boys, bent over the sink, pants around their ankles in wet diapers. Josh luckily hopped to the door and locked it just in time. They quickly pulled up their plastics, snapped up the bottoms of their jumpers and pulled up their overalls. The two boys waddled past the woman, eyes cast downward, made their way back to the table with blushing faces, and sat in their hot squishy wet diapers – which were much larger now that they were expanded with pee. Mommy had filled up their wine glasses again and they drank huge gulps of them after they sat. There was a slightly bitter gritty taste to the wine this time…

Hello All! It's been a while since I've posted a new story, but I'm back with a project I'm very excited about! "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" is the story of Rei Akiyama, a young girl trying to navigate through life in a near future dystopia where the age of majority has been raised to 28 for girls and regressive behavioral therapy has become popular to help girls adjust to these new laws. The world this story is set in is very strongly inspired by/based on the world building of Alteredstates, so a lot of credit goes to him! For those unfamiliar with Alteredstates, he does world building through ad copy and other cultural artifacts. While you don't need to be familiar with his work to understand and appreciate this story, I strongly recommend you check it out! Not only because it will help you immerse yourself in this world, but also because it's genuinely really good! You can find him on Tumblr, Twitter, and Patreon! Without further ado, I give you the prologue and first two chapters of "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" Prologue The night of Wednesday, October 4th, 2028, was unseasonably cold in the city of Greenham; snow was in the forecast for the next day in a city that rarely saw a snowflake until at least January. By 7:28PM, there were already flurries dancing through the cold wind that whipped through the dumpsters behind City Hall, where John Bennet, the head of City Hall security, stood with his foot propping open the emergency exit of the east stairwell. He blew out a lungful of smoke as he dropped his cigarette on the pavement below and crushed it beneath his shoe. John was nothing if not a creature of habit; so much so that, if one cared to be so observant, they could predict exactly what time John would take the last smoke break of his shift before he did his final sweep of the building. He would then go home to his shabby apartment. That night, however, was different. That night, John wouldn’t be going home; he would be meeting a 28-year-old girl he had met on the internet. That night, John’s phone rang just as he was about to go back inside. He fished his phone out of his pocket, smiling when he saw his date’s name on the caller ID, and swiped his finger across the screen as he raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, baby girl,” he said, trying to sound smooth, “I can’t wait to see you.” On the other end of the phone, a young-sounding voice poured honeyed words into his ear as he turned and walked back into the building. Another night, under less distracting circumstances, John would have almost certainly noticed that the door never clicked closed behind him, but the telling silence was lost amongst the words that sent his blood pumping. In a bar a few miles away, Edward Cook was ordering a drink for a girl who looked too young to be there. The girl blushed as she slid her ID and emancipation card across the counter at the bartender’s request, brushing her blue hair behind her ear to look coyly at Edward out of the corner of her eye as she did. Edward never even noticed the girl on the other side of him, or her hand as she slipped a hard plastic card at the end of a black lanyard out of his suit jacket pocket. The card, printed with Edward’s picture and the seal of the Office of Juvenile Affairs, disappeared into the girl’s clutch purse as she quietly slipped away from the bar. She checked the time on her phone as she stepped out into the frosty night: 7:34PM. Elsewhere, the number 9 county bus was pulling over for an unscheduled stop due to a disturbance on the bus involving three young girls. The driver, Richard Lawson, broke up the altercation with the help of another passenger and removed the girls from the bus. That taken care of, an exasperated Richard reported the incident to dispatch, who noted the number 9 bus was running ten minutes behind but was resuming his route at 7:47PM. Back at the courthouse, John, having finished his final sweep of the building and found nothing out of the ordinary, put the finishing touches on his security logs for the night and leaned back in his chair, eyes sweeping over the bank of CCTV monitors that showed snapshots of the interior of the courthouse. It was, however, the clock that John was truly focused on, his eyes constantly flicking between it and the monitors. The moment those numbers turned from 7:59 to 8:00PM, John pushed himself out of his chair and jabbed his finger at the button that caused all of the monitors to wink out simultaneously. Had he waited just a minute longer, he might have seen the black garbed figures slip in from the emergency exit in the east stairwell. He could have watched as they crept up that staircase and slipped into second floor hallway. Another camera would have shown the figures slink down the hallway, past the Permits Office and the Office of Parks and Recreation. On a third camera, the figures stopped in front of a frosted glass door with Office of Juvenile Affairs printed across it in thick, black block letters. One of the figures swiped a card by the panel next to the door, the light turned from red to green, and the figures quickly disappeared through the door. Later, security logs would be pulled showing Edward Cook had accessed the office at 8:04PM; the subsequent investigation would find Cook was not guilty of any direct involvement but would still lose his position on the grounds of gross negligence. By 8:15PM, Greenham City Hall was silent and empty. At 8:17PM, the number 9 county bus blew past the empty bus stop at the far end of the City Hall parking lot. On an ordinary night, Richard would typically idle at this station for a few minutes, but he was working hard to make up for lost time. The next few stops were just as empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of night on a weekday. It was 8:34PM when the bus pulled up to the stop at Greenham Community College, where three girls and four boys boarded the bus, all of them in their late teens and early twenties. Richard Lawson wouldn’t even think to mention this to investigators later, though they likely would have made nothing of it if he had. By 8:50PM, the city of Greenham, a suburb of the nation’s capital city, was settling into its slumber. A few bars and restaurants were still pouring drinks for late night clientele, but curfew was quickly approaching and all those affected were either already home or else rushing to get there. At 8:54PM, the electric engine of the number 9 county bus was humming along through the streets of one such sleepy neighborhood, empty but for Ricard Lawson and a small handful of passengers: a young girl with black hair and tawny skin carrying a bookbag tight to her chest, two boys with their feet on the seats laughing raucously in the back of the bus, and a mother and a daughter riding together. Richard glanced up at the passengers in his rearview mirror and caught the eye of the daughter. She had bright blue eyes, a practical waterfall of golden curls, and looked to be in her early twenties. Richard smiled at the girl in the mirror; he had to admit, she was adorable in her pink shirt and plaid skirtall. She smiled back at him from behind the shield of her pacifier. The mother turned away from the book in her hand and leaned over the girl, slipping one hand up the girl’s skirtall. Richard quickly averted his gaze, suddenly feeling like he was invading their privacy. “Oh, Rebecca,” the older woman sighed quietly, but still loud enough to be heard easily on the otherwise silent bus, “your pull-up is soaked; did you even know you had to go?” The girl’s smile disappeared into her blush as she mumbled some words from behind her pacifier. The mother chuckled. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she ruffled her daughter’s hair, “we’re almost home! Then we can get you changed into your nighttime diapers and feed you a nice bottle before bed, would you like that?” She booped her daughter’s nose and sent the girl into a fit of laughter. The black-haired girl shifted in her seat across from the mother and daughter, obviously trying to avoid looking at them. She glanced at her phone, 9:52PM. Richard Lawson shifted in his seat and tried to ignore the cooing and giggling going on behind him. Little single-family homes passed by as he made his way down Ridgemont Street, and only more in sight as he turned right down Wrighton Square. The bell dinged and Richard slowly pressed the brake, bringing the bus to a stop at the corner or Wrighton and Central Lake Drive. Richard wished his passengers a good night, stay safe, as they all got off. Glancing back in his rearview mirror to confirm the bus was empty, Richard slowly accelerated into the night. Peter Grant watched the bus pull away from the front seat of his Greenham Police Department Cruiser. He scanned the passengers leaving the bus stop. Two young men cross the street and kept walking up Wrighton Square while three women started walking up Central Lake Drive and toward his cruiser. He checked his clock: 9:56, damn near too late for young women to be out alone. “Let’s check it out,” he said to his partner, Dave Clusky, as he stepped out of the cruiser and started crossing the street towards the trio. As Peter approached, the women were backlit by a streetlamp, but he could make out the vaguely feminine shapes of three women. Two of them walked side by side as the third, at least a few inches shorter than the other two, walked a couple of feet behind. Peter raised his flashlight, “Excuse me, ladies,” he called out officiously as the beam of light cut through the night, bringing the slowly drifting flakes of snow into heavy contrast. The three ladies stopped in their tracks. The shorter of the two in front whimpered behind her pacifier and clung to the older woman next to her as they both blinked against the light. The girl behind them gasped inaudibly and stared ahead like a deer in headlights for a moment before raising a hand to protect her eyes from the worst of the light. “Evening, ma’am,” Peter nodded to the older woman, “these your children?” The woman glanced behind her, then back to Peter, “just this one,” she replied, squeezing Rebecca close to her. Peter nodded, “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Best get your little one inside, it looks to be about her bedtime.” The mother laughed politely, “yes, we’ve had a very long day, thank you, officer.” She tugged on Rebecca’s hand and quietly urged the girl on. Peter swept his flashlight over a few degrees to focus his beam on the girl in the white button up shirt and plaid suspender skirt. “Could you lower your hand, miss? How old are you?” “Uhm, nineteen,” she replied nervously, “I know it’s—” “It’s almost curfew,” Peter interrupted her, “you allowed to be out past curfew?” “Um, no, sir, I—” “Yeah, didn’t think so. What’s your name? What are you doing out so late?” “Um, Rei, sir, and I’m coming home from college, sir, I was—” “College?” Dave chimed in, “you got parental permission for that?” “Yes, sir, and I—” “What were you doing at college this late?” Peter asked. “You go to Greenham CC?” “Yes, sir, I was studying—” “Studying,” Dave scoffed, “yeah, right.” “I was, sir, I have—” “You got a pass from your professor?” Peter asked. “Yes, sir, it’s—” “Well?” Dave said impatiently. “Let’s see it,” Peter demanded. “Yes, sir,” the girl reached into her backpack and produced a folded sheet of paper that was immediately snatched out of her hand. “Professor Lewis? English?” Peter read key words off the piece of paper before handing it off to Dave. Dave looked the sheet over, made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, then handed it back to Peter. “Looks legit” “You know it’s almost curfew, kid?” Peter turned back towards the girl, thrusting the paper back at her. “Yes, sorry, I was—” “Yeah, you were at college, you said. You live close by?” “Yes, sir, I—” “Where at?” “Just up the street,” she raised her hand and pointed behind Peter. “Uh huh,” Peter sounded skeptical. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 9:59PM. “Think you can get home before curfew hits, little girl?” He smiled maliciously. The girl’s knees went weak; she clutched her bag to her chest as if it could protect from him the malice in his smile. Her vision tunneled in on the face of Peter Grant and the world around her sounded like it was moving through water. Tick. 10:00PM. As curfew went into effect all over Greenham and it’s surrounding townships, the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall exploded outward, raining fire and rubble into it’s expansive parking lot. The sound of the explosion tore through the still night air, audible as a low rumbling miles away on Central Lake Drive. A portion of the horizon of the night sky lit up. “The fuck…?” Peter cursed. “Fuck me!” Dave swore. The girl let out a quiet yelp and resisted the urge to make a break for it. Silence filled the air in the aftermath of the explosion, and then the radios on Dave and Peter’s shoulders started squawking. They completely forgot about the girl as they scrambled back to their cruiser. Chapter One Snowflakes were melting in Rei Akiyama’s hair as she slumped against the front door of her house. She was still shaking and trying to steady her breath. “You’re late,” a voice said from the living room. “I know, I’m sorry, Mom,” Rei said, still panting slightly as she took her shoes off before entering the room. “The bus was running late; I ran all the way here from the bus stop.” Ms. Akiyama made a sound in her throat as she looked her daughter up and down. “You were studying? Let me see your pass.” “Yes, Mom,” Rei said as she pulled out the now slightly crumpled piece of paper out of her bag and handed it over. “You’re working too hard in school,” Ms. Akiyama said matter-of-factly. “Well, whatever, I’m glad you’re home,” she discarded the paper on the end table, “I was starting to get worried when I heard that rumbling. Did you hear that?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei nodded and chewed on her lip, unsure what else to say on the topic. “Rei, stop chewing your lip, it’s a bad nervous habit.” “Yes, Mom, sorry.” Rei forced herself to stop and instead just looked down at her shoes. “Well?” Ms. Akiyama asked expectantly a moment later. “It’s almost bedtime; shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed? The news said we were supposed to get a few inches of snow, so school will probably be cancelled tomorrow, but I want you in bed on time just in case, okay?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei replied. She tried her best not to turn and run up the stairs, but instead walked casually up them as if it had just been a normal night of studying. Her mother watched her go, sensing something was off about her daughter, but she was unable to put her finger on what, exactly, she was sensing. Rei stopped briefly at the top of the stairs, turned back, and gave a small smile and wave when she saw her mother was still watching, then disappeared around the corner. Ms. Akiyama sighed quietly: what was she going to do with that girl? She was worried what kind of ideas her school was filling her head with, and Rei being out all-night studying didn’t do anything to allay that worry. Picking up the pass Rei had given her, Ms. Akiyama turned and settled back down on the couch. According to the pass, Rei had been working on her midterm essay for English with Professor Lewis. Sighing once more, she set the note aside, making a mental note to ask Rei what she was writing her essay about (maybe that would give her a clue on exactly what kind of idea’s the school was filling Rei’s head with), and turned her attention back to the TV where a mature looking woman was smiling back at her while holding a colorful package. “That why I decided to try new Pampers Overnight Diapers! They are expertly designed for girls who wet the bed,” as the woman delivered the line, she reached her free hand out the side and pulled a young girl of about eight or ten into the frame and into a side hug, “and those who don’t,” the camera pulled out and panned over to reveal an older girl about Rei’s age staring distractedly at her phone seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, “yet,” the mother added after a beat and punctuated it with a wink. Upstairs, Rei leaned against the wall, just out of sight, focusing on getting her breathing back to normal. The night hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but, so far, nothing had gone terribly wrong. She could only hope it stayed that way. Rei pushed herself away from the wall and made her way down the hallway towards her bedroom, closing her door behind her just as downstairs the TV alerted her mother to breaking news. As Ms. Akiyama was stunned to hear of the bombing just a few miles from her, Rei was tossing her backpack on the floor next to her desk and throwing herself face down on her bed. She was slightly dazed and more than exhausted. Part of her couldn’t believe the events of the night. Yes, they had been making plans for weeks now, she had known this night was coming, but now that it was done…it felt surreal. She was terrified of what would come next. Still, there was one more thing she had to do before this night was over. Rei crept back to her bedroom door, listened carefully, then cracked the door ever so slightly. The distant sounds of the TV still drifted up the stairs and the hallway was empty. Closing the door silently, she rushed across the carpet in socked feet to her desk, which, looking back over her shoulder towards the door, she inched away from the wall. Kneeling down, Rei reached behind the desk and pried off a piece of the baseboard to reveal a small crevice between the wall and the floor from which Rei produced a cell phone at least a decade old. It was black with a silver lined screen and a numeric keyboard. Rei brought up the messaging app only to be greeted with over a dozen texts; each was from a different number, but they all said the same thing: “home safe.” She sighed with relief, painstakingly typed out her own missive (“home safe”) on the numeric keyboard and pressed send before immediately replacing the phone in its hiding place and putting everything back in order. Now, Rei thought, it was time to get ready for bed. Chapter Two “It was confirmed early this morning that there were no casualties or injuries in last night’s explosion at the Greenham City Hall, which occurred at exactly 10PM and destroyed most of the building’s eastern half. While authorities have yet to make any statements regarding the cause of the explosion, many are already speculating that this was an act of domestic terrorism committed by the radical leftist feminist group Rebel in response to recent social policy legislation restricting the rights of women under twenty-eight. Supporters of this theory have been quick to point out that the offices of the newly established Office of Juvenile Affairs, which was formed to enforce these new policies, was located in the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall. We’ll be sure to bring you all the breaking details on this story as it develops. Back to you in the studio, Steve.” As the news switched back to less interesting stories, Ms. Akiyama turned her attention away from the tablet propped up on the kitchen counter and back to the cast iron skillet in front of her where the pancakes were beginning to form bubbles along the edge of the batter. She flipped them with the kind of perfection that only came with years of practice and shook her head, it was just terrible what had happened. She knew some people thought the new laws were going too far, but surely bombing buildings was going just as far, if not further. No, it wasn’t the proper way to go about voicing dissent at all. And if this was the kind of stuff feminism was preaching these days, maybe there was some sense to these new laws. Certainly they didn’t teach girls to behave that way when she was younger. Ms. Akiyama just prayed Rei’s head wasn’t being filled with this kind of stuff at that college she had begged so hard to go to. Maybe it wasn’t too late to put her in a vocational school; with a little discipline, Rei could make an excellent secretary. Or maybe she could get Rei a job working at a daycare; Rei always liked children, and maybe tapping into Rei’s maternal instincts was just what was needed to make sure she stayed on the right path. Or, there was always… No, no, Ms. Akiyama shoved that thought away. Rei was a good kid; a bit headstrong, but a good kid, surely that option was too drastic. Ms. Akiyama sighed as she stacked the pancakes on the steadily growing pile; she just wanted Rei to be safe and have a nice, happy life. She didn’t want her daughter falling in with the wrong crowd and getting herself in trouble. It wasn’t easy raising a daughter in such complicated times. Ms. Akiyama was still musing on such matters when Rei shuffled sleepily into the kitchen, almost instinctively following the smell of pancakes. “Pancakes?” Rei asked hopefully. “Does that mean school is canceled?” Mom typically never made pancakes on weekdays. “It sure does,” Ms. Akiyama replied cheerfully, trying to hide the somber mood the news had put her in. “Have you looked outside? We got quite a lot of snow!” Rei grinned and rushed out of the kitchen and into the living room and its bay window overlooking their front yard and the street beyond. Everything was white and brilliantly bright in the morning sun, covered in what must have been at least five or six inches of snow. Even the road was covered; it seemed like the snowplows hadn’t made it to their neighborhood yet. Rei couldn’t help but stare out the window in wonderment; she had always loved the snow. There was just something magical about it. Behind her, Ms. Akiyama leaned against the door frame and grinned. When it came to snow, kids were always kids. “Come on,” Ms. Akiyama said after giving Rei a few moments to take in the wintery spread, “the pancakes are getting cold.” She turned and headed back in to the kitchen without checking to make sure Rei was following her. The news was once again talking about last night’s incident, so Ms. Akiyama quickly turned it off as she grabbed the plate of pancakes; she didn’t want to upset Rei with such terrible news first thing in the morning. “So,” Ms. Akiyama said as she set the plate of pancakes on the table and Rei settled into her seat, “you were working on an essay with your professor last night?” She grabbed the syrup from the fridge before settling into her own seat. “Um, yeah,” Rei responded simply as she loaded her plate with pancakes, “my midterm essay,” she added after a moment. “Oh, that’s nice,” Ms. Akiyama passed the syrup across the table and took a couple pancakes off the stack for herself. “What’s it about?” “Um,” Rei was drenching her pancakes in syrup, “well, it’s…well, our professor gave us some articles to choose from and we just have to like respond to one of them.” “Interesting, what kind of articles?” “Just, you know, current events stuff.” “Uh-huh, and what article did you choose?” Sure, Ms. Akiyama was testing the waters, trying to see what kind of stuff Rei was learning at school, but, to her credit, she was genuinely interested in her daughter’s life. Rei, on the other hand, was getting nervous. Her mother didn’t usually ask her this many questions about her schoolwork. Rei liked that her mother didn’t ask her about her schoolwork. Rei thought the less her mother asked about her schoolwork, the better. Why was her mother suddenly interested? She thought about lying, but if her mother asked to see the essay, she’d be caught immediately. “Well, just about…about the passing of The Hayes Act…” “Oh, I see.” Rei shoveled a too large bite of pancakes into her mouth to avoid having to respond. Oh, I see? What did that mean? Rei tried to smile around the bite of pancakes, but her eyes were searching her mother’s face for anything that might hint to her true reaction. Ms. Akiyama worked to keep her face as passive as possible, raising her cup and taking a long, slow sip of coffee to help her efforts. She had barely discussed the act with her daughter since its passage six months ago. She hadn’t needed to much, and it had always felt like such a…touchy subject. “Why did you choose that article?” Ms. Akiyama asked, trying hard to sound casual but interested and definitely non-confrontational. Just a mom interested in her daughter’s schoolwork. Rei speared a hunk of pancake with her fork and cut it away from the rest with her knife, “Um, I just thought the article was interesting,” she spoke with her head down, giving her voice a muffled quality. “What was the article about?” Ms. Akiyama knew Rei had strong feelings about The Hayes Act, and she couldn’t blame her. Rei had turned nineteen a month before the law had passed; she had been an adult for thirteen months when she once again became a child in the eyes of the law for another nine years. Of course, Ms. Akiyama understood why her daughter felt so strongly about it; she respected Rei’s passion, but she wished Rei could accept that there was nothing that could be done. She wished Rei could just accept that the world wasn’t what her mother had promised it would be she told Rei she could grow up to be whatever she wanted. “Just,” Rei shrugged, “I guess the author was talking about how it shouldn’t have passed and stuff…” The two were in a minefield; they both knew it. Neither wanted this to end in an explosion, but one couldn’t leave, and the other couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Oh,” Ms. Akiyama said, “do you talk about that kind of stuff a lot in school?” The last time they had discussed The Hayes Act had been when it had come time for Rei to enroll in her second year at Greenham Community College. With Rei then legally a child, she needed Ms. Akiyama’s permission to continue attending college. Ms. Akiyama could have stopped her; she had certainly been tempted to do it. Rei shrugged, “What do you mean ‘that kind of stuff’?” “Stuff like The Hayes Act? Politics?” “I guess, sometimes.” “What kind of stuff do they teach you about it?” Rei shrugged, “I mean, they just like…explain how it came to be. Historically, you know?” “I see.” Ms. Akiyama could sense her daughter getting…defensive? Evasive? She was certainly becoming something. Maybe it was time to pump the brakes. “I just worry,” Ms. Akiyama said, genuinely thinking it would help defuse the situation. “Worried?!” Rei said a little too loudly, “there’s nothing to worry about, Mom!” “It’s just…I hear a lot these days about what kinds of things colleges are teaching and—” “Mo-om!” “—and I don’t want them filling your head with the wrong kinds of ideas, that’s all!” “Mom, they are not…brainwashing me, okay?” “I didn’t say brainwashing, okay? I just hear what kinds of things colleges teach these days, that’s all,” Ms. Akiyama repeated. Rei slumped in her chair. Her mom had managed to ruin pancakes. “I just want you to be happy,” Ms. Akiyama said after a long, awkward pause. She reached across the table to take her daughter’s hand. “College just makes things harder for most girls these days, and, besides, you study so much, it’s not good for you.” “But I like school, Mom. It makes me happy.” “Well, why don’t we sign you up for one of those extended high school for girls programs?” Ms. Akiyama smiled, genuinely thinking it would be a good suggestion. “Ugh, Mom,” Rei withdrew her hand and shot her mother a withering look, “those are just housewife classes.” “There’s nothing wrong with that, Rei!” “I’m not saying there is,” Rei protested, “it’s just not what I want to do.” “I know, you want to be a teacher, but I just don’t…well…you can’t be a teacher for another nine years, what if by then they don’t let women be teachers anymore?” A silence fell over the room as both mother and daughter felt the weight of that thought. It was a legitimate concern. “I don’t know, Mom,” Rei said at last, sounding crestfallen. “But what am I supposed to do?” Ms. Akiyama frowned. Like most mothers, deep down she just wanted her child to be happy. Part of her really wished her child could have her dream, but most of her knew it simply wasn’t meant to be and there was nothing that could change that. Most of her just wanted to help Rei find another way to be happy. Without a word, Ms. Akiyama rose from the table and cleared their plates. Breakfast was clearly over. On her way out of the kitchen, she lightly ruffled Rei’s hair, “Go on,” she said, “enjoy your snow day, okay? But just…think about the extended high school program?” Rei nodded.

You think that they media would not believe any scenarios espoused on Reddit r/AmITheAsshole or Quora. Almost always this is the one-hand typing at work. There are dozens of these unlikely scenarios. https://toofab.com/2024/01/11/boy-forced-by-christian-parents-into-giant-diaper-at-sleepover-rescued-by-mom/?adid=social-tmzlikeshop

New story! THE DIAPER DATE 1. Mikey Mikey had a nervous fluttering in his stomach as he entered the restaurant. He was wearing baggy overalls and a bulky oversized hoody that extended down almost to his mid-thighs. Underneath it he was wearing a bright blue tight jumper that snapped under his crotch concealing an adult diaper and plastic pants. He was very conscious of his slight waddle and the crinkle the diaper made as he walked. Mikey was 22 with shaggy brown hair and very slight build – he barely weighed 125lbs. He looked much younger – in his late teens - and was quite “twink”-ish and effeminate, despite his experience being completely heterosexual up until this point in his life. He had a sheepish look now on is face as his eyes skirted around the restaurant scanning the patrons. He was here to meet “Mommy Olivia” – this was the only name she’d given. They had started chatting about a month and a half ago - 1st on a popular diaper fetish site – then through the kik app and video chat. Mikey had become interested in ABDL fetishes a few years ago – finding it fascinating in some “primal” way – something hitting a chord deep within him. He found the idea comforting – being fastened into a warm absorbent disposable diaper and being free to wet or mess in it when he felt. When he saw pictures of beautiful women on the internet wearing diapers and baby cloths, he began masturbating to ABDL and diaper messing porn (often behind the backs of the 2 girlfriends he’d had since high school). This was EXTREMELY exciting to him, and he felt very “naughty” for doing so. This type of porn had now completely replaced any other theme, and he only seem to want to watch diaper and “diaper adjacent” videos. He’d become more and more obsessed with it until he’d finally broken down and ordered himself a 10 pack of adult diapers and a pair of plastic pants. Since he lived in his parent’s basement, he was very nervous about being found out by them and had arranged a package pickup at a local courier outlet instead of having them shipped directly to his house. His routine had started by secretly wearing them at night (his crotch and bum area slathered with Vaseline and baby oil underneath) and peeing them while watching diaper porn. He masturbated after they were soaked by rubbing against a large round couch cushion in his diaper - his little 4” dick cumming in the soggy mess of pee and Vaseline inside it before falling asleep contented in his warm wet cummy diaper. He masturbated to girls messing their diapers as well. He had a very keen interest in trying this himself – but due to his living arrangement, hadn’t yet tried it. This went on for quite some time – him carefully hiding his wet diapers from his parents – while his sexuality became increasingly more tied to this fetish. He ended up breaking up with his last girlfriend 6 months ago and now his whole sex life was devoted this diaper fetish. He had recently started chatting with other ABDLs on fetish sites and this is where he met “Mommy Olivia”. 2. Chatting with Mommy It had been quite an evolution of kink chat and games that they had engaged in during their frequent chats. He had cum hard the 1st few times as she guided him through his regular wet peepee diaper masturbation in the message function. She started insisting he call her “Mommy” and started messaging him more often when he was at his crappy job at Starbucks. She started getting him to send her photos of himself in a diaper and take videos of himself changing them and taking baths. She convinced him to start completely shaving all the hair off his body(except his lovely “brown shaggy mop” as she called his hair) until he was used to being bald everywhere. Then they were doing several hours of video chats in the evenings, as she guided him through everything he did during them. He didn’t know exactly how old she was, he guessed about 38-40, but she was still very beautiful and had a toned athletic body. She dressed in back vinal tops but wore a wear “Mom” apron over it with pink flowers. She never got naked on their chats, but he knew she was using a vibrator under her underwear off camera. One time he had to go poo during one of their chats and he excused himself to go to the loo – but she stopped him and insisted he do his poopies in his diaper. He had been very curious about this for the last few months but had been too scared his parents would discover him from the smell. She eventually talked him into it, and he pushed a big stinky log into the back of his diaper as she watched on the video chat… encouraging him with “Oh, what a good little baby boy!”, and “That’s it sweety - push now…”. She made him sit down on it and squish it in as she asked him to describe how it feels. When she guided him through his pillow cummies after - he never came so hard! He passed out after and woke up in his stinky diaper an hour later, panicked that the basement now stank of poo. He stated covertly changing, washing and getting rid of the evidence before his parents woke up, burning several incense sticks around his room. Next, she had him buy a small dildo and a butt plug online and guided him how to use them. He squatted in front of his web cam over his open wet diaper the 1st time he pushed the dildo into his pink virgin rosebud. He hadn’t even had a finger up there before. She cooed words of encouragement as he lowered himself on it groaning and gasping in pain- saying, ”Ooooh…I can’t do it Mommy! Owies!” – but eventually getting it all in. She made him sit in his diaper and fasten it around himself, lock the dildo in place up his bum – then masturbate on his pillow, the dildo pushing in and out of his little freshly stretched pucker – until he came with it inside him. She taught him how to use the butt plug and made him wear it under his diaper for his entire shift at Starbucks – denying him his morning poo and making him drink several cups of coffee during the shift till he was sweating and ready to explode - texting him often asking how it felt. She made him turn on his video chat as soon as he got home and strip down to his diaper – making him struggle and force the plug out as she watched and pleasured herself, until it finally came out in his diapers. He let out a huge moaning sigh as it was immediately followed by his days poopies. As he lay there breathing heavy – he watched her come hard over the video chat. She guided him through several kinky escapades over the month. She collected several videos of him in messy diapers, with open diapers, in sexual poses in front of the cameral, making him say submissive sissy baby talk things as she recorded. She told him how proud she was that his little sissy bumhole was getting looser and he was starting to enjoy the dildo and make his good cummies with it in. She was also proud he was making his diaper poopies more frequently and enjoying sitting in them like a good stinky baby. He lived for these sessions and lost all interest in finding a new girlfriend. He would do anything that Mommy asked at this point. And hornily anticipated the next kinky thing she would make him do in front of the camera. So, when she told him that she would be coming to his city next Saturday – and that they should meet up in person – he could not believe his excitement.

Got the house to myself for about 3-1/2 hours unexpectedly after work today but have to get up early morning to go back to work. I have a cloth backed 4 tape attends with a booster pad good for about 3-1/2 hours, my new Rearz clear double layer plastic rustle pants over the diaper and then my new black Rearz Lil Rebels training pants. Only thing that will get wet is the diaper but the training pants add some bulk for sitting around the house.

I’m also in in a Rearz Daydreamer diaper but my booster is a Pampers diaper. This is my regular diaper combo. I have a variety of Rearz mega diapers but my booster is always Pampers. Super comfy all day long.

Had some food the past two days that I normally don't eat. Was partially constipated for a day and when it came time mid-day, I wished I was in a diaper to enjoy it. It was a mixture of firm, and soft serve and would have been rather nice to enjoy for a while. Doesn't happen to often for me, as my normal diet results in soft serve consistency 97% of the time.

Have a small scale? What’s the change in diaper weight?

Thanks Brian! Meter is moving slow this month!

Two hours into a Northshore Megamax with two boosters, 17 degrees outside and snowing. But nice and warm inside both the house and my diaper.

Thicker is better and it's what I prefer as an adult baby. Thicker diapers give me the safety, security, and comfort. It also lets me waddle like the baby that I am because I am not ashamed if I waddle in my diaper. Thick diapers let people know I wear diapers and I am an adult baby.

I ordered around first week of December and got in like 10 days...Once it got to Buffalo, it took 2 days. Pretty good speed for the holidays.

Chlorophyll pills like nulls help a lot but turn poo green

Me too, although this surgery in itself is less invasive than the gender reassignment surgeries in which they specialise. But given the responses to these types of topics on this forum, I think they will receive more requests for this incontinence operation in the near future, so they will get used to it.

"Babies don't use that kind of language, honey. I keep telling you that. And I don't appreciate your attitude all day, young lady. Julie was nice enough to welcome us into her home, and you are acting like we never gave you any home training. And it's time for you to learn. You will be punished. But instead of spanking you, I'll be trying something new: I'm going to pick a random amount of time. And you'll be in that diaper until the time is up. If you curse, defy us, or asked to be changed, we will add time to the clock" she sets the amount of time as a timer on her phone and shows it to Julie. The time is a random amount of time under an hour. But for Kayla, not knowing exactly when she will be change will make the time longer. "You'll have plenty of time to get to know your dolly, huh? Now, put that paci back in your mouth. That's an order, young lady"

A long time ago in a bedroom not far away .... No... it's not Fart Wars. I had some friends come to visit for the weekend. I only have 1 extra bed, so one slept there, but the other slept on the couch in the living room. I usually left my work phone on my kitchen table, but it would make odd noises now and then and it was disturbing my friend. He shouted out asking how to turn it off, but I just told him to bring it up to my room. Unbeknownst to him, I had let out a pretty raunchy fart just a minute or so before that. As soon as he opened the door he practically gagged... "WHAT THE F"""!" Going even farther back, my brother and I were walking to the bus stop on a cold winter morning. He thought being outside it was safe to just pop one loose, so he did. But, a moment later, he needed to scratch nose, so raised his hand to his face. When he did, that fart which had actually got trapped by his winter coat found a convenient escape path out the arm sleeve to his face. He crop-dusted himself! Man .... the list can go on. My dad was infamous. My room was downstairs and whenever he was sitting at the table upstairs I could hear the farts through the floor - wood chair on solid wood floor (1950s built house). Let's just say the wood amplified things quite nicely.

Oh, so it is okay if the tape doesn't come around the front? I'm wearing a Crinklz Large FairyTale and the tapes only reach the sides. I tried angling them more downwards on the top and upwards for the bottom tape and it's staying up a bit better. I'll definitely try larger diapers and see if the tapes go to the front.

That happens if you’re using pins to fasten the diaper. The fabric loosens as it get wet. I found the solution to that problem is to use the ABZ Cloth Diaper fastener from AdultClothDiaper.com. You stretch them to fasten the diaper and that stretch takes up the looseness as the diaper gets wet. See: https://www.adultclothdiaper.com/ABZ-Cloth-Diaper-Fastener If you’re using a disposable diaper, the above doesn’t apply. With disposables, they will loosen over time as the plastic stretches. I wear an elastic pant over the diaper to hold it in place. I also fold down the front of the so that it is below the belly bulge and fasten the diaper fairly snuggly.

I started this journey 10 months ago. Wanting to be in a wet diaper at night or have the bed be soaking wet with pee. I had no experience with bed-wetting. The last time having truly wet the bed. I was probably 5 or 6 years old. I accepted some of the challenges this would have in life. Having to always wear a diaper whenever asleep. Paying for supplies. Using ointment for rashes. Traveling with supplies. Family finding out. With years of never peeing in my sleep. I could not pee lying down. I started by laying in the bathtub and practicing there. I would do this everytime before I would shower. It was still incredibly difficult to drink a bunch of water before bed and wake up and let go. Now I did this once a week for a month. Naturally my partner was quite disappointed. My partner wore goodnights until 15 so she was understanding. She had a concerned talk with me. She was very supportive and encouraged me to get some diapers. She made sure I scheduled a doctor's appointment about it. I did both. The doctor visits was uneventful. "More people than you would think wet the bed" "do you want any drugs for it" Politely declined. With wearing diapers every night I tried to get in the habit of waking up and letting go. In order to achieve this new goal. I would stay well hydrated throughout the day. Then I would drink two pint glasses of water before bed. Sure enough most nights I would wake up and just let go before going back to sleep. Waking up and using my diaper lasted months. A few experiences have been. Being sick my significant other has changed me. I have spent holidays at her parents. Wearing a diaper to bed in the guest bedroom. Wore a diaper for road trips in case I took a nap in the car. Anytime I got cold feet about wearing to bed she would make me put a diaper on. Through all of this. Wetting myself laying in any position became as easy as walking. With months of no progress. I finally started to have the hazy memories of waking up and wetting. This progressed to a few pee dreams. One notable dream was I walked into the bedroom. Desperate to relieve myself. I took a diaper out of the drawer and put it on. Letting go I could feel the wet warmth and felt so relieved. I woke up that morning soaking wet. The pee dreams was incredibly short lived. I progressed to waking up soaked. Go to bed in a dry diaper and wake up in a soaked diaper. It's not every night. That's the next goal. However I can proudly say I'm a bed-wetter now. I would be worried about going to bed without one on at the moment.

Chapter 39: The car ride to the doctor's office unfolded with the gentle hum of the engine, the familiarity of the route providing a sense of routine amid the occasional sniffles that punctuated the silence. The slight cold, a persistent reminder of winter's grasp, had prompted this visit. The day started with the familiar routine of Mommy getting me ready in the morning. But today we had a doctor's appointment, the reason being a slight sniffle from a lingering winter cold, that didn’t seem to go away and left Mommy worried. My attire for the day consisted of a light blue onesie adorned with playful patterns of teddy bears and building blocks. The fabric was soft against my skin, and the onesie, complete with snaps at the crotch, embraced the thick diaper around my crotch. A pair of cozy denim overalls followed, their adjustable straps securing them comfortably over my shoulders. Mommy made sure to add an extra layer—a knitted cardigan adorned with cute animal shapes—to shield me from the lingering winter chill. The ensemble was completed with a pair of white sneakers, fastened securely with velcro straps for both convenience and style. As Mommy knelt down to close the straps, I looked down at my shoes, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness. I hadn’t been to the doctor for more than a year and especially not since starting my diaper project. How were they going to react, would they think I was crazy and lock me up? "Ready for our little trip to the doctor, sweetie?" Mommy's voice carried a tone of reassurance as she took my hand, guiding me toward the door. I clutched “Mr. BunnyRabbit”, as if seeking comfort from the upcoming visit. The familiar sight of the doctor's office building loomed ahead as Mommy parked the car. My grip on Mr. BunnyRabbit tightened, a silent plea for reassurance, as the nerves bubbled within me. Despite the routine nature of the visit, a knot of anxiety twisted in my stomach. Mommy turned to me with a warm smile, recognizing the unease etched on my face. "It's just a check-up, sweetheart. Nothing to worry about," she cooed, her soothing words attempting to quell the apprehension that lingered beneath the surface. Mommy's comforting words lingered in the air as we made our way into the clinic and through the door to the lobby and waiting room. Mommy guided me with a gentle hand on my back, a gesture both reassuring and guiding. As we entered the waiting room, I clutched Mr. BunnyRabbit a bit tighter, the familiar plush toy serving as my steadfast companion amid the unfamiliar surroundings. The other occupants of the waiting room, children and parents alike, cast brief glances our way. I couldn't help but feel the weight of their curious eyes, aware that my toddler attire and stuffed rabbit marked me as an anomaly in this setting. Mommy, however, seemed unfazed by the attention. With a warm smile, she led me to a corner of the room, where a colorful play area beckoned. Stuffed animals, building blocks, and picture books adorned the space, offering a temporary escape from the clinical atmosphere. "Let's wait here, sweetheart. You can play with the toys while we wait for our turn," Mommy suggested, her tone a delicate blend of encouragement and warmth. I nodded, my apprehension gradually giving way to a childlike curiosity. Settling onto the soft rug, I engaged with the toys, losing myself momentarily in the simple joy of play. Mommy sat beside me, offering occasional words of encouragement and praise. As I played, the minutes passed in a blur, and soon enough, our turn arrived. The door creaked open, and a pediatric nurse, clad in a cheerful uniform, stepped into the waiting room. Mommy rose from her seat, and with a welcoming smile, she greeted the nurse. "Susan and Patrick?” She announced loudly scanning the room and quickly spotting us in the corner. “How are we today.” She inquired, her tone a blend of professionalism and warmth. Mommy returned the smile, though a hint of concern flickered in her eyes. "We've had a little cold, and I thought it would be best to have the doctor check him out. Other than that, he's been his usual cheerful self." The nurse's eyes flickered with surprise, as her gaze shifted from Mommy to me, still sitting on the floor. Her initial professional reaction reflecting a momentary pause However, her professional demeanor quickly shifted into a warm, reassuring smile. "Well, hello there, little one!" she greeted in a gentle, melodic tone, bending down to my eye level. "And who is this adorable little patient today?" I glanced up at Mommy, unsure of how to respond. The nurse chuckled, seemingly understanding the silent communication. "Is this Mr. Rabbit?" she asked, gesturing to my plush companion. I nodded, holding my bunny a bit closer. "Such a good bunny you have there!" she continued, reaching into her pocket and producing a colorful sticker. "How about we put this on your shirt? That way, everyone will know you've been a brave little patient today." With a mixture of hesitation and curiosity, I allowed her to affix the sticker to my overalls. As the nurse continued to engage in playful baby talk, I felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room. Despite the peculiar circumstances, her approach made me feel acknowledged and, in a strange way, at ease. The nurse motioned for Mommy and me to follow, and we entered the examination room together, leaving the playful haven of the waiting area behind. The nurse led us deeper into the clinic and into a separate office, the walls adorned with vibrant murals of cartoon animals and cheerful landscapes. The room emanated a child-friendly ambiance, with a small play area and a colorful rug that beckoned young patients to explore. "Please have a seat right over here, little one," the nurse directed, pointing to a chair that stood beside a examination table in the middle of the room. I complied, the plush Mr. BunnyRabbit securely tucked under my arm. Mommy took a seat nearby, her reassuring smile offering silent support. The nurse proceeded to weigh and measure me, making notes on a clipboard while keeping up a stream of friendly chatter. "Look at you, growing up so well!" she exclaimed, as she recorded the measurements. "Now, let's check those ears and listen to that heartbeat of yours, shall we?" As the examination continued, I found myself caught between the novelty of the surroundings and the familiarity of routine health checks. The nurse's skilled hands moved with precision, making the experience feel strangely routine. After the physical examination, the nurse turned her attention to Mommy. "Is there anything specific you'd like to discuss with Dr. Stevens today?" Mommy glanced at me before responding, "Well, he's had a bit of a cold, and since Patrick is a bit of a special case, I just wanted to make sure that everything is okay with him.” The nurse nodded, understanding the unique situation. "Dr. Stevens will be in shortly to discuss all of that with you. In the meantime, feel free to make yourself comfortable. We're here to ensure both of you have the best care possible." With that, the nurse exited the room, leaving Mommy and me surrounded by the whimsical decor of the pediatrician's office, waiting for the doctor to arrive. Shortly after the nurse left, the door opened again, and Dr. Stevens entered the room. A warm smile graced his face as he greeted us. Dr. Stevens was a middle-aged man with a warm and approachable demeanor. He had a kind face, framed by a salt-and-pepper beard that complemented his neatly groomed hair. His eyes, behind a pair of thin-rimmed glasses, held a combination of professional attentiveness and genuine care. Dressed in a crisp white coat, he exuded an air of competence and confidence "Hello there! How are we doing today?" he asked, directing his attention first toward Mommy and then turning to me. His eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and professionalism as he took in the sight of a grown man dressed in toddler attire. Mommy spoke up, "We're here for Patrick's checkup, and he's had a little cold recently. As discussed there’s also some unique aspects to his situation that I wanted to discuss with you." Dr. Stevens nodded, his expression maintaining a level of understanding. "Of course, I'm here to address any concerns you might have. Patrick, would you like to come up on the examination table so we can take a closer look?" Feeling a bit hesitant I climbed onto the examination table, Mr. BunnyRabbit in tow. Dr. Stevens went through the usual procedures, checking my ears, listening to my heartbeat, and asking about any symptoms I might have been experiencing. Dr. Stevens, maintaining his professional demeanor, turned to Mommy. "To get a thorough examination, it would be best if we undress Patrick down to just his…..Uhm, diaper. Is that alright with you?" Mommy nodded, a reassuring smile on her face. "Of course, Doctor Stevens. Patrick, sweetheart, let's get you undressed for the doctor, okay?" Feeling a bit self-conscious, I cooperated as Mommy began to remove my toddler-themed clothing. Mommy folded my clothes neatly and set them aside, leaving me in just my, at this point soggy diaper. Dr. Stevens proceeded with the examination, checking my skin, muscle tone, and range of motion. Throughout the process, he engaged Mommy in conversation, maintaining a friendly rapport to ease any discomfort. As Dr. Stevens continued the examination, he carefully observed various aspects of my physical condition. With a thoughtful expression, he gently commented, "Susan, I've noticed that Patrick has a lower muscle mass than expected for his age. However, his body fat percentage seems to be on the higher side, reminiscent of what we often see in toddlers with their characteristic baby pudge." Mommy listened attentively, concern flickering across her face. Dr. Stevens continued, "It's not exactly common for children…” He stopped midsentence taking a harsh look at me before continuing “Uhm, young men his age to exhibit this degree of pudginess. However, considering Patrick's unique circumstances, we might want to discuss a tailored approach to encourage muscle development. Can you provide some insights into Patrick's diet and daily activities?" Mommy responded, "Certainly, Doctor. Patrick has been following a balanced diet with a mix of baby food, soft snacks, and bottle feedings. We engage in activities like playtime, and outdoor experiences. He's been napping regularly and overall seems to be in good spirits." Dr. Stevens furrowed his brow slightly, expressing concern. "I do have some reservations about Patrick's current diet and the observed loss of muscle mass accompanied by an increase in what I would need to call baby pudge. Also while it's not unusual for toddlers or even infants to require daily naps, I'm a bit concerned about Patrick's need for these and his overall low level of energy. It's essential to monitor his nutritional intake closely, ensuring he receives the necessary nutrients for proper muscle growth and overall energy maintenance." Mommy's expression shifted to a mix of understanding and concern. "Doctor, we'll certainly take your advice seriously. We want what's best for Patrick, and we'll make the necessary adjustments to his diet.” Mommy expressed her concern, "Dr. Stevens, Patrick's digestion has been more manageable with the current diet. Changing it abruptly might make things unpleasant for him, especially when it comes to using his diaper." Dr. Stevens nodded, understanding the practical challenges. "I appreciate your perspective, Susan. We don't want to disrupt his routine too much. However, we can explore other options to enhance his nutrition without causing discomfort." He continued, "I'd recommend incorporating a protein powder into Patrick's diet. This can help address concerns about muscle mass and provide essential nutrients. It can be mixed into various foods, making it a convenient solution." Mommy considered the suggestion, "That sounds like a reasonable compromise. We want what's best for Patrick, and if this helps maintain his comfort while improving his nutrition, we'll give it a try." Dr. Stevens agreed, "Great. I'll provide you with information on suitable protein powders and guide you on incorporating them into his meals. It's essential to strike a balance that ensures his overall well-being." Dr. Stevens continued his observations, "I couldn't help but notice some wear and tear on Patrick's knees. Is he taking to crawling instead of walking?" Mommy smiled and replied, "Well, Doctor, he seems to prefer crawling around at home. It's become a sort of preference for him, and we've let him explore what makes him comfortable in our safe environment." Dr. Stevens continued the conversation, expressing a bit of concern, "While it's understandable that Patrick may find comfort in crawling, it's crucial to note that adults aren't built for prolonged crawling like babies. The bone structure and joints in adults are different, and continuing this behavior might lead to long-term issues and potential damage." The doctor added, "If Patrick consistently refuses to walk, we should explore alternative options that ensure both his comfort and long-term health. Perhaps physical therapy or activities that encourage walking in a more engaging manner." Mommy nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the importance of considering alternatives. "We'll certainly explore other options to encourage his mobility. Thank you for your guidance, Dr. Stevens." Dr. Stevens shifted his attention toward me, offering a compassionate smile. "Patrick, I understand that you've put a lot of time and effort into this unique journey. It's commendable, and I appreciate the complexities involved. My concern is primarily about your overall health, and I want to work with you and your mommy to find a balanced approach that considers your well-being." Despite Dr. Stevens' understanding and reassurances, I found it challenging to maintain focus during the adult conversation. My mind seemed to drift, and the gravity of the discussion weighed on me. The doctor's words about my health and potential long-term consequences echoed in my head. Deep down, a part of me understood Dr. Stevens' worries about the toll crawling might take on my adult body. The wear and tear on my knees, the potential for long-term damage of my baby-like diet. Dr. Stevens leaned forward, attempting to engage me in an adult conversation about my health. "Patrick," the doctor began, "it's important to consider alternative options for your mobility and also for your diet. I understand the important of the project and of the article you want to write and we just want to ensure your long-term well-being. My mind struggled to maintain focus. I shifted uncomfortably, my eyes wandering around the room, fixating on the colorful illustrations adorning the pediatrician's office. I fidgeted on the examination table, the gravity of the conversation clearly lost to me at that moment. Dr. Stevens continued, trying to emphasize the potential consequences of my chosen lifestyle, but my attention waned. "Sweetie," Mommy interjected, using her gentle baby talk, "Try to listen carefully to the nice doctor, he just wants you to be a healthy boy, okay?” I nodded absentmindedly, my gaze fixated on a vibrant picture of cartoon animals on the wall. The doctor's attempts to maintain an adult discourse became increasingly futile as I slipped further into toddler thoughts. "I know it's hard to understand, Patrick, but we need to find a compromise," Dr. Stevens persisted, but my mind was already wandering to the stuffed animals in the corner of the room. "Look, a teddy bear!" I pointed, momentarily captivated by the distraction. The doctor sighed, recognizing the challenge of reasoning with a mind divided between adulthood and toddlerhood. "Susan," the doctor began, turning his attention back to Mommy, "we also need to consider the impact on Patrick's mental well-being. Living the life of a toddler could have long-term consequences on his adult mind." Mommy, ever attentive to my needs, listened carefully to the doctor's words. "I understand, Doctor, but we've found a way to make Patrick happy. He's been more carefree and less stressed since we embraced this lifestyle. We're doing our best to balance both his needs," Mommy explained, her voice a soothing melody of reassurance. Dr. Stevens nodded, recognizing the delicate balance we were attempting to maintain. As Mommy and the doctor discussed dietary changes and the introduction of protein powder, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of resistance. The doctor's recommendations clashed with my toddler preferences, the comfort of warm bottles and the familiarity of pureed baby food. The thought of changing that routine, even for health reasons, left me apprehensive. I tried to articulate my thoughts, a mixture of adult reasoning and toddler resistance. "Me like bottles," I mumbled, attempting to convey my attachment to the comforting warmth of my baby bottles. Gave me a quick glance, before continuing. "Susan, I understand the effort you and Patrick have put into this unique project. However, I must express my concerns, not just about the physical aspect but also the potential impact on Patrick's mental well-being." Mommy nodded her head in agreement, while turning to face me. "I appreciate your concern, Doctor. We’ll be monitoring Patrick closely, and as you can see, he seems content with the arrangement.” Doctor Stevens sighed, seemingly having come a decision, perhaps understanding the delicate balance we were striving for. "Very well. I'll sign off on allowing you to continue the project. Just keep a close eye on him, both physically and mentally.” Mommy turned her attention back to me, her hand grabbing my onesie as she got ready to redress me. "Oh, sweetheart, it looks like you need a diaper change," she remarked with a mix of concern and tenderness. “You can change him here, before leaving.” Doctor Stevens remarked, while finishing his paperwork. "Well, little guy, it seems you've got a unique adventure going on, huh? Your Mommy and I just want what's best for you. Boop! There's your nose! You really do seem to cope well with your toddler life, aren't you?" I tried to respond with a mix of adult and toddler thoughts, but the doctor continued engaging in babytalk and playful interactions, making it challenging to maintain a coherent conversation. My responses became more toddler-like as Dr. Stevens played along, creating a surreal moment of this professional doctor treating me an infant. "Okay, little guy, I'll leave you to your mommy for the diaper change. Take care, both of you." As Dr. Stevens exited the room, Mommy turned her attention to me, her tone shifting to a gentle and reassuring babytalk. "Oh, sweetie, did the doctor check you all out? Mommy's here to make you comfy and clean. Let's get that diaper changed, okay?" As Mommy expertly got busy changing my diaper, the nurse from earlier returned to the room, casting an amused eye on the scene unfolding. She couldn't help but coo and offer words of encouragement, turning the already awkward situation into a moment of shared amusement for her. The nurse, with a friendly smile, remarked, "He's quite the cutie, isn't he? A handsome little guy if it weren't for the, um, current circumstances." Mommy chuckled nervously, "Oh, yes. He has his moments, but, you know, life as a toddler comes with its challenges. The exchange continued, with the nurse playfully affirming Mommy's caregiving skills, all while I squirmed in discomfort, my face burning with embarrassment. This doctor's visit had taken an unexpected turn, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable in more ways than one. The nurse nodded understandingly, "Absolutely. But look at those eyes! And imagine when he's not, well, occupied wetting his diaper and sucking his thumb. He might turn out to be quite the little heartbreaker." Mommy joined in the laughter, "Well, we appreciate the optimism. Diapers and all, he's still our special boy." As they shared a light moment, I couldn't help but blush, the embarrassment of being the center of such a conversation intensifying my discomfort. Mommy, in a playful tone, said to the nurse, "Speaking of thumb sucking, would you mind passing me one of those pacifiers from his diaperbag? It tends to make diaper changes smoother." The nurse smiled and handed over a pacifier, commenting, "Ah, the magic pacifier. It's amazing how it can turn a fussy moment into a peaceful one." Mommy nodded, popping the pacifier into my mouth as she continued the diaper change. "Absolutely. It's become a little ritual for us." The nurse chuckled, "Well, whatever works, right? He's a lucky little guy to have such caring parents" As I sucked on the pacifier, a mix of embarrassment and comfort washed over me. It was strange to be at the center of such a conversation, yet the pacifier did offer a soothing distraction, turning the diaper change into a somewhat bearable experience. The nurse, with a gentle coo, continued, "There we go, little one. All clean and dry." She babytalked me a bit more, praising my good behavior during the diaper change, and then excused herself, leaving Mommy to finish changing my diaper. As I lay there, pacifier in my mouth, I couldn't help but reflect on the surreal nature of these moments. The nurse's babytalk, the comforting routine of a diaper change – it all underscored the reality of my regressed state. Mommy continued with the task at hand, seemingly unperturbed by the recent conversation. Leaving the doctor's clinic, the nurse, spotting us on our way out, couldn't resist one last round of babytalk. "Bye-bye, little sweetheart. Take care!" she cooed, adding an unexpected level of sweetness to an otherwise perplexing day. Mommy chuckled, playing along with a grateful smile, and we stepped out into the crisp air, leaving behind the clinical atmosphere of the doctor's office. The echoes of babytalk lingered in my ears as we ventured back into the world beyond the clinic doors.

3. Nervous Meetings He spotted her at a corner table. The restaurant was quite dark, so he had to squint, but he immediately recognized her face – intense blue eyes and raven black hair. She was dressed in a tight black leather corset-like top which showed off her ample breasts and muscular arms. His stomach did a quick turn of nervous fluttering, but he headed toward her. To his surprise there was a young blond guy who looked his age and was dressed similarly to him sitting at the table with her. “Mikey, baby!” she cooed happily as he sat down. She took his chin in her hand, pinching and wiggling his face lovingly like a little toddler. He saw that the other boy was looking as startled to see him as he was to see the other boy. “Oh! – EXCUSE me -Mikey, this is Josh… Josh, Mikey”, she giggled and took Josh’s face in her other hand similarly to what she was doing to him. “Sorry for the surprise! But it will be the 3 of us this evening!”, as they looked at her and each other with expressions of mild protest she said sternly, “Now this is how Mommy wants it!... Don’t be bad boys and do what mommy says!”, They had obviously both heard this tone from her before and immediately nodded and said “OK, Mommy” in a hushed unison. “Good! Good Boys”, she said encouragingly. “So, I can see you both are all diapeed up and ready for our little play date this evening!”. She reached under the table and gave each of them a hard squeeze in their crotch areas as she spoke. Mikey shifted on his seat keenly aware of his bulky diaper and the slipperiness of the baby oil and Vaseline between his butt cheeks. He glanced up at Josh and saw he was thinking the same thing – he looked away quickly and blushed. The waiter brought a bottle of wine and 3 glasses to the table. She pored them each a glass and then cheers-ed them. “To a fun little night together with my beautiful boys!” “Do we want some snacks? Hopefully you both followed my instructions to eat a very big meal at lunch today until you were full, and tried not to drink too much water during the day?” He knew why she had issued these specific instructions – he realized that she wanted him to poo his diaper at some point this evening. He glanced at Josh briefly again and realized that he was in the same situation. He blushed and got nervous about maybe pooing in front of a strange person he had just met – and a DUDE at that! As all of these thoughts swirled in his head, he swigged a huge gulp of his wine. He had a brief thought of running out of the restaurant and escaping this weird situation he had walked into. He wasn’t gay! He didn’t want to do all this kinky fetish role playing stuff with another guy around. But his curiosity and overwhelming sexual need to wear diapers and take kinky orders from Mommy, in person, overtook his fear and nervousness – for the moment! She spoke again… “So, as you’ve probably realized by now my two sweeties, I have not been doing our fun little chats and games with each of you exclusively – I have a few little sissy boys and girls across the country that I’ve been grooming and teaching to be the best little babies that they can be for Mommy. I do a few trips a year to their various home cities, and we have fun. It turns out that you both live in the same city, so?... Two birds, one stone as they say!”, she laughed. The 2 boys drank their wine and were starting to feel a little tipsy as she talked about her trip and that she had a hotel room near by that they’d be visiting later. Mikey started to relax a little. The initial shock and embarrassment of seeing Josh there (out on the same date with his cherished “Mommy”) started to recede slightly. He surmised that Josh was just as into the diaper fetish thing as he was, or he would not be here, at a restaurant with someone he met online – wearing a diaper and a baby jumper under his clothing! He also felt that his strictly “heterosexual” feelings about sex were starting to erode, as his sexuality became increasingly tied to his diaper wearing and sissyboy fetish. Maybe having another baby there this evening would be fun – he briefly imagined how it would feel to unload in his diaper with both of them watching – knowing Josh would be doing the same. He was in a slight daze and his little sissy peepee was starting to get hard in his diaper. He was half listening and nodding to Mommy’s small talk and they were halfway through their second bottle of wine when she said, “Bathroom break time my little pretties?”

I'm a big supporter of people going 24/7 and diaper training over time to need the diapers whether that is daywetting bedwetting or bowel IC because you will be living the life for long time before you have to live the life forever and if after all the effort it take to become diaper dependent you have regrets I don't know what to telly you, choices do have consequences. I am not a fan of surgery as an option. This is an irreversible flip the switch type incontinence and by your own admission you tend to get tired of diapers. If you had been 24/7 for a long time and just looking for the final push then fine but i think this is a mistake but like I said choices have consequences and you will have to live with them.

I am supportive of this operation for folks who have committed to the lifestyle, 24/7, for many years because they know what they're getting into. People who fly down south of the border on a whim are going to end up regretting it because they might not know what they're getting into and are thinking with their libido instead of their brain. Make sure you, um, clean the pipes before going under sedation, just to make sure this is something you actually want. If you haven't accidentally leaked in public yet, you should not be having this operation. Full stop.

Uh oh, looks like Briana finally has to go do political stuff. It's rough being an oligarch baby! ----- 10 Reluctant Anticipation Up to her waist in hot water and soap bubbles, Briana sat back to admire the forest of suction-cup jungle animals she’d managed to stick to the tile wall. Her tongue protruded from between her teeth as she lifted Alanna – her stuffed Lioness and Knight Captain of the Kingdom of Cloudland, of which Briana was a princess – and carefully suspended her in the tangle. She let go and gasped as the suction cups held. “See Grandma? See? If they can hold Alanna they could totally hold crayons!” “Alanna looks nervous to me.” Grandma expertly scrubbed the inside of Briana’s ears with a soapy washcloth, totally unhindered by the Little girl’s squirms. “She’s not nervous, Alanna is a knight and they’re brave!” Briana’s attempt to slide down to the waterline to escape the washcloth seemed quite clever until Grandma caught her foot and pulled. Before she knew what was happening, Briana was dunked under the water, had her hair rinsed out, and was back up and sputtering. “Bravery isn’t about not being scared.” Grandma deftly wiped soap off Briana’s face. “It’s about facing fears – especially realistic ones like being put in a food dehydrator.” “That was only one time!” Briana looked up at Alanna, who’s stitched-on expression seemed less than impressed. “Anyway, it worked.” “Worked so well you cried for a whole evening about locking your friend up.” Grandma held up three fingers. “There are three reasons why you can’t play with the crayons that Gary got you for your birthday while you bathe.” Briana folded her arms across her soapy chest and stared skeptically at Grandma. Michelle cleared her throat and said, “First off, they are very nice crayons, made from beeswax, which you’d be sad if you ruined. The second is that we don’t have any surfaces that can be colored on with crayon and survive bath water.” “Yes we do! You can color on parchment paper.” “Finally,” Grandma said relentlessly, “Your bath is over anyway.” Briana had her mouth open to retort when Grandma turned on the shower, raining terribly cold water down on the Little girl. She shrieked at the top of her lungs, launching herself upward with a mighty splash. Suction cup animals were strewn everywhere in the confusion. Like she’d choreographed it, Grandma rose to her feet, caught Alanna, and held up a fluffy towel. Lip trembling, Briana stared aghast at her grandma. As the shock wore off, she realized she wasn’t standing under freezing water, but merely warm water that had been a sharp contrast to the near-scalding tub. All was forgiven when she stepped out of the tub into a freshly warmed towel. Grandma wrapped Briana up and dried the Little girl from head to toe, before wrapping her in a second warm towel. There really is no getting spoiled like getting spoiled by Grandma. “Good girl, getting out of the tub so fast,” Grandma said, as if she’d given Briana any choice. “Let’s get you on the potty now.” “Huh? How come?” Briana sat anyway – accepting the casual authority Michelle wielded as she always ended up doing when her Grandma babysat her. “You should try to use the potty tonight, even if Kiara is prepared to change you.” Grandma brushed most of the wet out of Briana’s hair while they waited to see if she needed to go. “This is to get you in the mindset.” “Oh right, the charity thing.” Briana managed a small tinkle in the toilet, beaming when Grandma rewarded her with a pat on the cheek. “I know you didn’t forget – and that you didn’t forget any of the times you dodged Emeline on campus.” “I’m sorry!” Briana didn’t sound convincingly sorry, even to herself. To cover, she rushed into her next statement. “It’s just hard to connect with this stuff when I don’t know much about it.” “It’s work dear, just like you do at school.” Grandma stood Briana up, wiped her, and lead her down the hall to her bedroom changing table. “Community and political work will often be tedious or uncomfortable, but it’s of great benefit to the people you’re helping.” Unsure of how she should reply to what was starting to sound like a lecture, Briana was saved the trouble by the pacifier Grandma pressed to her lips. She closed her eyes and relaxed onto the fluffy diaper Michelle scooted under her hips, letting Grandma’s soothing voice and gentle hands take away the last of the end of bath shock. “I’m proud of you for picking a research project designed to clean up the planet – you could have chosen any number of things other than plastic-eating bacteria. By the same token, I’m sure you’ll stop making Emeline’s job awkward and enthusiastically help your aunt.” Briana winced when Grandma lifted her legs – only to receive baby powder on her rear instead of a swat. She popped her pacifier out in surprise and stared up at Grandma. “I thought you were going to spank me. That sounded like a pre-spanking lecture.” “There’s no need to spank you because I know you won’t disappoint me on something this important.” Grandma patted the powder onto Briana’s skin matter-of-factly, her expression never wavering from it’s caring calm. On the whole, Briana would have preferred a spanking. When Grandma had volunteered to give Briana her bath, the Little girl hadn’t expected to be speared by guilt. Pinned to her changing table like a butterfly in a display case by possible disappointment, Briana had to admire her Grandma’s experience in handling kids. To her delight, she got a color-matched diaper for the dress her Grandma put her in. The diaper was a pretty pastel yellow, a nice compliment to the dress’s yellow top – even if no one at the event was supposed to know she was diapered. The boldly colored rainbow embroidered on the dress’s top, along with the tulle rainbow skirt was proof that Grandma paid attention to her. It’d been one of many fancy dresses Briana had gotten from Michelle for her birthday, and she loved them all. Love overflowed from Briana’s heart – she threw herself into a big hug with her Grandma which was returned with the same bottomless affection Michelle always hugged with. “Thanks for the bath, and the dress – and even the talk.” Grandma laughed. “You’re a good girl Briana. Go play with your sibling. You’ve a while yet before Emeline arrives.” ~~~*~~~ Melody, to Briana’s great exasperation, didn’t want to play. They were “busy” with “a personal project” and no amount of sarcastic air quotes from their Little sister could get them to put down their laptop. At least they were in the living room, instead of at their desk in their room. Along with Melody’s Middle-ish outfit of a dinosaur t-shirt and bright blue shorts, Briana felt the situation ought to be negotiable. Appeals to the local authority were Briana’s next tactic, but they weren’t working out the way she wanted either. “But Daddy, Grandma told me to play with Melody.” Briana smiled endearingly at Jane, hoping that her dad’s outfit of a button up blouse and nice slacks wasn’t indicative of an uptight mood – but rather just her father’s anti-casual personality. “I’m sure that was more of a suggestion than a command, and non-binding on Melody in any case.” Jane scooped Briana up into her lap, which Briana tolerated because it let her burrow into her Dad’s warm arms. “I’m just debugging,” Melody said, without taking their eyes off the screen. “We can hang out, I just can’t play until later.” “But later I’m going to be out with Kiara!” “Oh yeah, you two are raising money to stall the orphan crushing machine, right?” “The what?!” “It’s an internet meme about how Americans throw money at systemic injustices that should get fixed.” “Well – I’m literally an orphan, or I was, so can you not do that meme, please sib? It icked me.” Briana’s plaintive tone was successful in getting Melody to look up sheepishly. “Sorry sis. I wasn’t thinking.” “It’s okay.” Briana nuzzled Jane’s cheek. “Daddy, will you play with me?” “Of course. We can engage in a good German game, such as Würstchenschnappen.” “Daddy, you’re gross. I don’t think you ever ate sausages off a clothesline as a little girl.” Jane laughed. “You’ll have to ask my parents to be sure.” “When are they coming?” Briana bounced on Jane’s lap. “I want to meet all my grandparents." “Unlike the Rasmussens, the Müllers cannot fly to another continent on a whim. However, they should be here after the high traveling season ends, in September.” “Really? They picked a date?” Briana’s bounces hit a high point – whereupon she shifted to clinging to her dad. “Are they – are they going to be okay with me?” “They are going to love you as much as anyone else in the family does.” Jane gave Briana a squeeze. “The visit is some months away, don’t spin yourself up with anxiety.” “That’s a Mom phrase, you’re staring to sound like your fiancé.” Briana hopped restlessly off Jane’s lap and skipped around the room. “I suppose so.” Jane smiled fondly – she had the best dreamy happy expressions whenever Briana mentioned the wedding. Naturally, that meant she talked about it as much as the rest of the family would put up with. “Mom said you and Grandma and Kiara were talking about the guest list, did you decide how many people are going to be…” “OH – EM – GEE.” Melody beaned Briana with an expertly tossed stuffie. “You need to get off the wedding topic, sis, that was our whole afternoon.” Briana caught the stuffed giraffe on the bounce. “How dare you treat Chuck so cavalierly?" “Isn’t he a knight of Cloudland? He should be used to it.” Melody had a terribly smug smirk on their face. “What does being a knight have to do with…” “I think your sibling is referring to the French chevalier,” Dad said, rolling her eyes. “OH – EM – GEE, sib!” Briana held her stern expression until Melody burst into giggles and she couldn’t help laughing herself. The doorbell rang, prompting Briana to cast a surprised look at the clock. “It’s time to go already? But we didn’t even play!” “Then why did we have such a good time?” Jane patted Briana fondly on her rear. “Go answer the door, mein Tochter.” Briana skipped over to the door and flung it open, reveling in the surprised look on Emeline’s face – though it lasted only a moment before she was back to her trademark professionalism. She had on one of her innumerable pinstriped suit-dresses, the model of the day being a slightly lighter blue than the last one Briana had seen Emeline in. Sure, Mom wore variations on the same dress, but at least her style was goth instead of corporate. Remembering Grandma’s epic guilt attack, Briana put on a bright smile that was only a tiny bit false. “Hi Emeline. Come in!” “If you’re ready, we should head out right away, but thank you for the invitation.” Emeline waved from the door. “Hello Ms. Müller, Melody.” “Emeline.” Dad reverted to German stoicism in the face of Emeline’s formality, spoiling any good that would come from dragging the French woman inside in an effort to make her unwind. “Yup, I’m ready, take me to Airforce One!” “Oh non, we’re meeting with the President next week, remember?” Emeline’s deadpan delivery got a smile out of Jane and a giggling-snort out of Melody. Anyone who could manage that couldn’t be all bad. Briana felt her spirits rise enough for her to bounce a circle around Emeline. “Then let’s go. I haven’t seen Aunt Kiara in ages.” “It would be unwise to say that to Ms. Rasmussen, considering the reason you haven’t.” Emeline chuckled, taking Briana’s hand firmly. She looked up at Jane and said, “Kiara will be bringing her home after the country club event is over.” “Thank you Emeline,” Jane said. “You’re welcome to join us then as well – but please don’t feel pressure to attend if you’d rather not.” Emeline nodded before leading Briana to her car. At Veronica’s insistence, both Kiara and Emeline had outfitted their vehicles with a Briana-sized car seat. While Emeline strapped her in, Briana kicked her feet and wondered what the country club people would say if they saw her in a car seat. Such concerns hadn’t been part of Briana’s life for a while, but they were creeping back in with disturbing regularity. I wonder how much of my nervousness about Kiara’s events is about being Little in public? As Emeline pulled out of the driveway, Briana was struck with the guilty realization that she’d put a lot of pressure on Ava to come to her birthday as a Little. It was a bit of a struggle to reach her sequined purse, strapped in as she was, but Briana managed to snag her phone and send an apology text anyway. “Emeline, what’s the event about tonight?” “Changing the city ordinances to require businesses and public buildings to provide better access to people with physical disabilities.” “Isn’t that already a law?” “It is, but Kiara’s proposal would set a higher standard than the law currently requires, because it’s not always enough.” Briana chewed on her lip, remembering that Ava had been basically shut out of the cool upper floor of Vakhaven because of the steep stairways. Is that why Kiara’s doing this – and is she doing anything to make our house better for people like Ava? If people really were having trouble despite the law in place, it seemed like a common sense thing to fix – hardly worth a meeting. Melody’s horrible orphan machine comment floated to Briana’s mind in counterpoint. “But the business people don’t want to do it because it’ll cost them money, right?” “Oui.” Emeline nodded. “Also the politicians don’t want to have to raise taxes during an election season.” Briana frowned, searching her memory. “But – the city council is elected every two years, right? They’re always doing election stuff.” “Exactement.” “Right, so what do I do?” Briana sat up seriously – or as seriously as she could with her car seat straps holding her shoulders. “I’m glad to see enthusiasm.” Emeline smiled. “You could offer to track the issue for those who’s political campaigns your family contributes to. They know that Kiara is too busy to closely follow such a minor issue. It’s much more likely that they will keep their promises if they know there is an interested Rasmussen who doesn’t have any other causes.” “That means a lot more meetings – some of them on my own, doesn’t it?” “It would, yes.” With a sigh, Briana considered her options. It was true that while family restroom access was very good across town – Ardenthill as a whole didn’t have good disability access. The campus buildings were top notch, but the downtown core was downright inaccessible. Briana had heard from more than one person that the town’s landlords like to declare a building “historic” to get out of making improvements. With Ava’s expression of forcibly patient frustration in her mind’s eye, Briana bravely lifted her chin. “Okay, I’ll do it! You’ll have to help me with the words.” “Naturalment.” Emeline smiled. “Let us keep this a secret from Ms. Rasmussen. It will be more fun if she is surprised by your enthusiasm in the moment.” “I didn’t realize she liked surprises so much.” “She doesn’t hate them – but I meant it would be more fun for us, not Kiara.” Briana giggled. “Emeline, you’re naughty!” “Ms. Rasmussen encourages self-expression among her staff.” Emeline pulled the car into the country club parking lot, choosing a spot near the back of the lot. “That’s true of all of them. It’s confusing when you call Aunt Kiara Ms. Rasmussen.” “They are very similar women when it comes to their business affairs, true.” Emeline helped Briana out of the car. “As are you, Miss Rasmussen.” “You think so?” Briana clasped her hands nervously in front of her, wishing she had Alanna along to buoy her confidence. “Oui.” Emeline gently untangled Briana’s hands and clasped one of them. “Now, let us go surprise your aunt.” If Briana gripped Emeline’s hand extra hard on the way into the club, the French woman didn’t say anything about it. She was torn between regretting her Little dress and being glad that she’d worn it. As long as no one laughed at her, debuting in Little attire would keep her from having to dress up at all the rest of the meetings. They wouldn’t laugh at a Rasmussen – would they

Chapter 9: ---------- Cyn started stepping her game bit by bit at that point. We had the freedom and the time to experiment and that is exactly what she did. She didn't put me back in diapers the next day, instead she had me back in my prom panties. She used the cuffs to tie me to the foot of the bed, face down and ass up. She pulled out a vibrator and got to work on my clitoris. This was only the first real orgasmic action we had since prom, so it took a while before she managed to get me going. She never took off my panties, she just kept stimulating me through them, eventually turning them into a clingy wet mess. As she massaged my clitoris with the vibrator, she gently caressed the insides of my thighs until I could stand the sensation anymore and erupted in orgasm. Despite not having done anything myself, I lay panting into the bedsheets. Cynthia, however, didn't have an ounce of mercy. Pushing aside my wet panties, she simply slid the still buzzing vibrator into me, pulled the panties back over it, and went to make breakfast. She didn't even say anything, she just left the room, leaving me in a situation that was more like torture than stimulation. She did come to check up on me quite often, but she left me there until noon without giving me a moment of respite. By the time she came to stroke my hair, my face was already stained with tears and drool and I was aching for either release or another orgasm. Just a vibrator really doesn't get you off. "How are you holding up?" She asked after a few moments, wiping my cheeks. I had no idea how to respond, if I even could. Like always I wanted to please her, but saying I was fine was what she really wanted and while I'm pretty sure I wanted out, my whole world was overwhelmed by the vibrator. So I said nothing. That must've worried Cynthia a bit, because she started with detaching the cuffs on my wrists, and then untied the ones on my ankles from the bed. I was too stiff and sore to actually move and sit up, and I still had a vibrator buzzing away at my sex. She turned it off and took it out. The feeling did not disappear. Everything still felt like it was vibrating, though it did so in a completely different way. The sudden change in feeling brought new tears to my eyes. Cynthia guided me to lie on my side at first, gently stroking my cheek and making gentle cooing sounds. Once the buzzing feeling started subsiding, I began to come back to my senses as well. "Hey there," she said when I finally looked up at her. I think I said a hoarse 'hi' back, but I'm not sure. Either way, after a while she asked "too intense?" At first I just nodded, but I kind of felt the need to talk about it. It just seemed important to, I didn't want her to held back too much. Yes, that experience had been very intense and yet I still wanted to be hers, to be bent in ways that, though they were uncomfortable for me, brought her joy. "A little, maybe." That was as far as I managed to get with saying how I felt. I was too drained to really talk. Cyn seemed to have figured that out too, since after waiting a second or two for me to continue she went "let's go eat." She helped me up off the bed, slowly. Even taking our time, the moment I got up my bladder refused to hold and just let go. I peed right through my soaked panties. With all the sweating I'd been doing all morning, there wasn't a lot of it however, and the puddle that formed at the side of the bed was barely bigger than my foot. "That's ok, Ensie sweetie, I'll clean that up." There wasn't a second of hesitation before her reply. She simply took it in stride. She tore the undersheet off her bed and simply mopped up the mess with that. "Let's eat first," she said once the wet spot was soaked up. She did pull my panties off me and threw them on the sheet first. Food was waiting for us downstairs. Cyn had foreseen that I would be weak so she'd purposely made something that didn't require a lot of chewing, though I can't remember exactly what she had made. I ate slowly but a lot. By the time I was done, I wasn't just exhausted, I was groggy as well and practically falling asleep on the table. "Hey, you should take a rest," Cyn said, gently rubbing my shoulder. She helped me to the living room, where she plopped me down on the sofa. With a jolt, she woke me back up, holding a diaper and a shirt, and a blanket thrown over her shoulder. "I just wanted to let you sleep, but given what happened upstairs you need a little protection, ok?" I'm not sure I even gave her an ok anymore. In fact, that next thing I remember is her waking me up by shaking me. "... parents. Wake up, dammit, your parents are here and your diapered butt is showing." It took me just a few seconds longer to register was was going on. Cyn had no time to pay attention, she was just trying to get me in pants the whole time. Later she told me that she did consider a skirt but she thought it was too likely to still accidentally show off my underwear. We managed to get me dressed before my parents even touched the door. That was good. The biggest surprise, however, was that Cynthia had prepared a whole new cooked meal for the four of us. And the kitchen even looked cleaner than before. Afterward, alone on the couch, I said: "You let me sleep." I was kind of surprised, because I had expected that at the very least she wanted my attention the rest of the day. "I'll always take good care of my Ensie," she answered while gently stroking my hair. Taking good care of me didn't prevent her from sitting on my face the next day. When she rang the doorbell that morning, she was wearing only a loose shirt and a short skirt. Not too tiny, really, it covered everything very nicely and it reached over halfway to her knees. It even widened a little. She lifted the skirt for half a second to show me that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Unlike previous visits, she did not immediately get on with it. She started the day by re-establishing the rules. "Now that we see each other practically every day, we'll say that you only need to ask permission to use the bathroom when we're actually together. Otherwise you can just go." That was a worrying change to me. I'd gotten very used to having to text her to ask or beg for bathroom privileges and I kind of liked it, because it meant I got a lot of attention. No longer having to do that seemed like Cynthia was tiring of me. That soon turned out to be far from the truth. After laying out the new rules, Cyn took my hand and led me into my own living room. It was always nice when she took charge, because it made my fears melt away. All I had to do was follow. She closed all the curtains in the living room, turned on the tv and put on a movie. It was a romantic movie and not a particularly good one. Once that movie was done, she put on another one. I spent the whole morning snuggled up to her, my head resting on the side of her chest, Cyn caressing my side the whole time. I don't remember exactly when, but somewhere during the second movie, Cyn couldn't hold it in anymore, sat on my lap and started kissing me furiously. By the time the movie was done I was topless and my hands were all over Cynthia's soft butt. "I think the movie stopped," she said, suddenly disconnecting our mouths. She was biting her lip and still playing with one of my nipples. "We really should eat." My head was spinning and for once I protested. "I'll just eat you," I suggested. Well, "suggested". It was more of a desperate desire to keep going. Food was just not on my mind right then. Cyn didn't say anything, she just pushed me flat on the couch and climbed on top of my face. At first it was suffocating and quite impossible for me to stimulate her, but with some effort on both our parts and a little help from the armrest we managed to find a position that covered my face in Cynthia's vulva and still gave me enough room to bring her to orgasm. That didn't happen all at once, of course. This was only the second time I was on the giving end of oral sex for Cynthia and I needed some time to get into it again. Aside from that, it's actually quite a lot harder when you're lying on your back and your girlfriend's sex is smothering your face. Luckily, it's also a lot kinkier and thus more exciting, which makes up for the extra time needed. By the time I made her orgasm, my face was wet and sticky and I'm pretty sure she peed a little on me. Even so, she kissed me afterward. And then she forbade me from washing my face until just before my parents came home. She spent the whole evening smiling on the couch next to me, giggling every time our eyes met.

First of all, all the best for 2024 and thanks for reading that story. without further ado, time for chapter 3. Chapter 3: Whispers in the Machina The Machina Facultas called to me, its existence a symbol of engineering excellence—a sanctuary of innovation where minds like mine aspired to shape the future. Approaching it, I experienced the awakening of a long-cherished dream, a vision of contributing to this towering world. With each step I took toward it, I felt the stirrings of a dream that had long been nurtured within the confines of my imagination, one where I could leave my mark upon this grand world that towered over me. The structure loomed ahead, a monolith of glass and steel reaching skyward as if to grasp the very essence of innovation from the heavens themselves. My fingers grazed the sleek surface of the entrance door, and as it whooshed open, a wave of awe washed over me. Inside, wonders awaited at every turn. Engines that defied gravity floated in suspended animation, and machines that could weave fabric from light itself blinked rhythmically in a hypnotic dance. Here, there were no demerits, no looming threat of adoption—only pure potential. My eyes settled on an exhibit featuring a magdrive from one of the legendary skyboats. The magdrive’s intricate design was both elegant and formidable; its sleek lines spoke of power contained with precision. My mind raced with possibilities as I imagined crafting something worthy to stand among these marvels. "Wouldn't it be something?" I whispered to myself, my voice nearly lost amid the hums and whirs that filled the hall. My fingers twitched with an urge to dismantle and rebuild—to understand each cog and circuit that allowed these masterpieces to redefine reality. My Magnus opus... what form would it take? A machine that could bridge dimensions? Or perhaps one that could elevate Littles beyond their assigned fate? I envisioned myself unveiling a creation so groundbreaking that even Bigs would look upon it—and me—with respect rather than condescension. The dream took hold with such ferocity that for a moment, I forgot my surroundings; I was an engineer first and foremost, not just a Little in a world ruled by giants. Around me, visitors moved like shadows as they admired the exhibits. Their faces reflected the same wonder that sparked within me—a shared reverence for human ingenuity. My heart swelled with determination. One day, they would come here to see what Bixente Echavoyen had wrought—a marvel not just for Amazonia but for all dimensions. The Machina Facultas would house my legacy. And as I exited those hallowed halls with sketches and ideas burning bright in my mind, I clung to that vision with unwavering resolve. * * * I paced through the campus, my mind still whirring from the technological marvels I'd witnessed at the Machina Facultas. Each invention seemed to whisper a promise of endless possibilities, stirring a sense of pride within me. For a fleeting moment, I felt like I belonged to this grand, alien world. As I meandered toward the park, lost in dreams of crafting my own mechanical masterpiece, a sudden clenching in my gut yanked me back to a less inspiring reality. My face flushed with heat as the familiar dread of urgency gnawed at my insides. "Fuck! Not now," I muttered under my breath, each step more frantic than the last. Memories of embarrassing moments from my past clawed their way into my thoughts, taunting me. I had thought those days were behind me, but here I was, in a foreign land that already insisted on treating me like a child, and my body seemed determined to betray me at the worst possible time. I scanned the surroundings for any sign of a restroom. The landscape was picturesque, with lush greenery and benches inviting contemplation, but none of that mattered now. My stride turned into a half-run, half-waddle as I clutched at my abdomen, willing myself to hold on just a little longer. The serene beauty of the campus lake came into view—its tranquil waters mocking my desperation. Couples lounged on its banks, and students laughed nearby. My heart raced; the threat of humiliation hovered over me like a dark cloud. "I need to find a bathroom," I whispered fiercely to myself. With every step, the panic swelled, turning each breath ragged and sharp. The fear of what might happen if I didn't make it gnawed at my resolve, but I pushed forward. I bolted, my legs pumping as I made a beeline for the restroom earmarked for Littles. Every second counted, every footfall heavy with dread. I reached the door, my hands already fumbling for the handle before I even arrived. I shoved hard, but it was like slamming into a wall—the door wouldn't give. Locked. A strangled "Why?!" escaped my lips, barely louder than a breath. My body was on fire with betrayal, a twisted cramp tightening its grip as if to mock me. My eyes stung, whether from sweat or something else, I couldn't tell. I scanned the area, frantic for any other sign of sanctuary. The place teemed with people—Bigs and Mids alike—each step they took seemed leisurely and purposeful. None of them had the slightest clue about the tempest brewing inside me. I wiped my forehead, smearing away the beads of sweat that had gathered there like uninvited guests. My mind raced as fast as my heart, which thudded against my ribcage like it wanted out. There had to be another bathroom nearby—one that wasn't under some absurd lock and key regime. Panic clawed at my throat, and I felt small and vulnerable—a feeling I despised with every fiber of my being. I thought of Eric and how he'd snicker if he could see me now; it spurred me on. I couldn't let this world see me as anything less than capable. Not now. I turned on my heel, setting off again, each step laced with desperation. "Keep it together," I muttered to myself. "Just gotta find another place." My voice was a whisper lost in the cacophony of university life unfolding around me, blissfully unaware of my plight. I could feel it—the inevitable. My gut gave up, and I felt the unmistakable sensation of my poop running, invading my underwear before dripping on the ground. The humiliation was overwhelming, and I wanted to sink into the earth and disappear. My face burned with shame as I clutched at my abdomen, trying to stem the flow. But it was too late; the damage had been done. Panic set in as I realized that everyone around me would surely notice what was happening. The laughter of students nearby seemed to mock me, and I felt small and exposed in this alien world where I was already treated like a child. I tried to walk faster, hoping that if I could just get away from everyone, maybe they wouldn't see what was happening. But it was no use; the smell was already starting to waft through the air, a pungent reminder of my predicament. My heart raced as I scanned the area for any sign of sanctuary—a secluded corner or an empty building where I could hide until this nightmare passed. But there was nothing—just people everywhere, going about their business as if nothing were wrong. * * * I felt a sudden tug on my sleeve, and I turned to see two towering girls smirking at me. Their laughter was cruel, and I could feel the eyes of everyone around us on me. "Look who needs a diaper !" one of them sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I blushed furiously, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew I should have gone to the bathroom when I had the chance, but now it was too late. The smell was unmistakable, and it seemed to be drawing even more attention to me. "You're such a little baby," the other girl said, her voice mocking. "Maybe you should just put on a diaper and be done with it mr Poopypants." They both laughed again, and I felt my face burn even hotter. I tried to back away, but they grabbed my arms tightly, holding me in place. "Unless you want the dean to hear about this," one of them said menacingly, "you'd better do as we say." The threat was clear - if I didn't comply, they would report me for soiling myself and getting spanked by the dean. And worse yet, they would demand that I be demoted and adopted by them as their personal little boy. The thought made me shudder with fear. My knees felt like they might buckle under the weight of their taunts. Just as I braced myself for another wave of humiliation, a voice sliced through the cacophony of jeers. "Leave him alone." He materialized from the throng of students like a sudden shadow, tall and lean, with eyes sharp enough to cut through steel. Aiden Ricoh, I'd later learn his name. His smile was a blade—sharp and deceptive. He stood there, exuding an air of authority that seemed to momentarily stagger the Bigs. The girls' laughter sputtered into silence, their smirks faltering. "And who are you? His knight in shining armor?" one of them mocked, her voice oozing disdain. Aiden's grin didn't waver. "No armor here. Just a guy who doesn't enjoy watching two people pick on someone half their size." They sized him up, eyes narrowing. I could see the gears turning in their heads as they decided whether he was worth the challenge. But something about Aiden's stance—confident, almost defiant—made them pause. "We don't need this," the other girl said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "But watch your back, little boy," she sneered at me. "You can't hide behind someone forever." Her words slithered into my ears, leaving a trail of cold dread down my spine. The threat was clear; my reprieve was temporary. As they sauntered away, Aiden turned to me with a look that wasn't quite a smile nor a frown—it was calculating. "You alright?" I nodded, trying to regain some semblance of composure despite feeling anything but alright. "Thanks," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. "Don't mention it," he replied casually. "But be careful who you trust around here." His eyes scanned the area as if expecting trouble at every corner. I swallowed hard, trying to dispel the unease his words stirred within me. "I don't even know you," I pointed out, more to remind myself that he was a stranger than anything else. "You will," Aiden said cryptically.

The mega max airlock are a good choice as well I don't hear as much crinkle like I would with crinklz

Part 21 As Paige pulled out a few more of my bras from her bag, it wasn’t difficult to pick up on the trend. Apparently she hadn’t chosen my favorite bra on purpose; she just had good odds due to the fact that she was focusing her attention on my nicest undergarments first. One by one, she held up my bras for both me and her friends to see. First maroon, then sky blue, then black. All of them were lace, and all of them were more expensive than the rest of my underwear. Each of them, on top of being chosen for the perfect fit, worked exceedingly well with my red hair and my fair skin. I had exactly four ‘special occasion’ bras, not that they were limited to specific dates or events. It’s more that I tended to reserve them for when I was dressed up and/or would potentially be seen in the bedroom later. And to save my favorite, I was about to lose my second, third, and fourth on that list. Not to mention how it was also like losing almost $175, if I remembered correctly. All because I had taken an unfair bet to get out of an unfair and beyond frustrating situation. “What a shame,” Paige taunted. After showing off each of her selections, she opted to start with the maroon bra. “It’s so pretty. Maybe you can wear bras like this when you’re older, Miley. But you’re still developing, so you really shouldn’t jump to something like this. Training bras suit you much better, I think.” “Mm hmm,” Violet agreed. She gave my arm a small squeeze with her own, reminding me that we were linked and I wasn’t going anywhere. “No big girl bras for you, little ballerina.” Even though I knew what was coming, it still felt somewhat unreal as Paige dangled the first of my bras in front of her by the band. “Ready?” she smirked. Milking the moment for everyone, especially for me, she slowly brought the scissors up and opened the blades between the two lace cups. “Are you Alyssa, or Miley?” Would it save my bra if I answered the way she wanted? I doubted it, but I had to try. They were still insisting on the mistaken identity I was caught up in, despite Noelle currently being upstairs. This was just Paige’s way of continuing to have her fun with all this. On the off chance that she would show me a little mercy, I went with it. “I’m Miley,” I begrudgingly muttered. “That’s what I thought.” Without any more ado, Paige snipped the bit of fabric holding the front of my bra together. My breath caught in my throat as I watched the cups separate; the lower one flopped down as the expensive garment was cut in half. Paige wasn’t done there, however. She made short work of cutting the straps off the bra cups as well, then tossed the destroyed pieces onto the end table next to her. Not wasting any time, she picked up the light blue bra next and held it up in a similarly teasing manner. This time around, she didn’t bother with more demeaning comments or leading questions. Instead, she merely got on with ruining the second nice bra of mine. When I tensed up at the audacity of what my step-sister was doing, I also knew that I was totally helpless to stop her. Not just because I was stuck in the armchair with Violet, but also because I had technically asked for this. First I made the bet without realizing the technicalities I had overlooked, and then I had straight up said out loud that Paige should cut three instead of one. It was way too late to backpedal at this point. “It’s okay, Miley,” Violet said, speaking at a normal volume for everyone to hear, “This is for your own good. You’ve been pretending to be this stuck-up, mature girl for so long. But we all knew you were just a little troublemaker.” “Oh, my God!” Annika gasped, “Miley. Did you just call me a bitch?!” Wait, what? I didn’t even say anything! “What? No, I-” “Language, little sis!” Paige scowled, “I’m going to have to tell Noelle about that.” “No!” I exclaimed. My eyes slightly widened at the prospect, knowing full well that Miley’s babysitter would have no qualms about yanking my shorts down and giving me another brutal spanking. She probably wouldn’t storm down here and do it in front of an audience; Paige was my sister, so she was probably an exception in terms of being allowed to witness the earlier discipline where I was borderline bottomless in front of her. But even if Noelle dragged me upstairs and spanked me away from the others, I wasn’t sure I could handle another round of that. My ass was still a little sore from the first time. And also, I DIDN’T SWEAR. “I didn’t say anything,” I said, managing to keep my voice more controlled than my thoughts. They were just proving how easy it would be to lie as a group. It was five of them vs. one of me, and Miley was a known problem child. “I heard it,” Shannon said. “Me, too,” Dakota nodded. “How about this, Miley?” Paige’s lips were pursed in an amused little smile as she pulled out another bra from her bag. A plain white one this time, although it was still one of my better non-lace ones. Being a girl herself, she seemed to have a good idea of my tier list. “We won’t tell your babysitter . . . but only if you cut up three of your bras yourself. The first one doesn’t count, of course. I did all the work for that one.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Annika was ready for it. “It’s going to be four bras if you’re not gracious about her generous offer, dear. How about something like, ‘Anything you say, my gorgeous and amazing older sister, Paige?’ How’s that?” Paige rolled her eyes. “A bit much, honestly. I’d be fine with ‘Anything you say, Paige.’ How about it, Miley?” Well, at least she was reigning in Annika’s over the top suggestion. But I also wasn’t about to offer up something like that to the very same sister who ended up pushing me deeper into this mess instead of helping me sort it out. Although it’s not like saying it would mean anything, it was also something I wouldn’t be caught dead saying to her under normal circumstances. Except, of course, that this was very much not a normal situation. “And if I do?” I reluctantly asked. Stupid. So stupid. The last ‘deal’ I made with my sister was why my bras were currently on the chopping block. In the back of my mind, I knew that playing more of her games was a terrible idea, but I couldn’t get the memory of Paige flashing my ID at me out of my head. That was probably the closest object around that could prove who I really was, unless she happened to have more of my possessions down here. Not out of the realm of possibility, considering my bras had been stashed so close. “Hmm . . . ” Paige mused. Although I didn’t know her very well, I could still tell that this time she was actually thinking. She had come up with the wager from before in a matter of seconds, and the fact that the contents of my underwear drawer were conveniently within reach was telling enough in terms of how she clearly didn’t improvise that idea. Annika’s false claim about my swearing seemed to be something they hadn’t all prepared together, but my sister was quick to run with it. “If you do,” she began, briefly pausing for suspense, “Then I’ll offer you a trade for your license.” Typical. It wasn’t that she would give me my license; instead, I had to earn an offer she presumably wouldn’t tell me until I suffered through the first step. “Fine. Anything you say, Paige,” I agreed right away and repeated the annoying words. Best to rip off the bandaid, and also say it before any of them could start a recording. “Well, that was anticlimactic,” Annika sighed. “Whatever. A deal’s a deal,” Paige shrugged, “But first, Miley, you have some bras to cut.” “Wait, but-” “Ah, ah, ah. One deal at a time, sis. How do you expect me to follow through on my end until I see that you’re a girl of your word, first?” Unbelievable. I had already made begrudging peace with the fact that my best and most expensive bras were going to be ruined beyond repair, although twisting things so I would be doing the cutting was definitely worse than watching Paige do it herself. What excuse would I possibly have when it was all said and done? Since we were eighteen, it already felt immature to get our parents involved with this, although I was absolutely willing to call them or Miley’s parents if it meant Noelle understanding the huge mistake she had made. But this? It’s not like I could tattle on my sister for destroying my undergarments if most of it happened by my own hand. Without waiting for me to affirm anything, Paige handed the stack of bras to Shannon, who passed it down the line. Dakota, to Violet, to me. The scissors followed shortly afterwards, and Violet giggled in my ear as she held out the blades. “No rushing, Miley. We want to watch.” “That’s right. No rushing,” Paige said, “And since you said you’ll do anything I say . . . ” Yep. That’s why I didn’t want to give her that kind of ammo. Although it’s not like it made a difference. I had followed her and her friends down here to get my ID, and already jumped through numerous demeaning hoops. Straying from how I was being strung along at this point would only complicate things. Now that I could somewhat see the goal, albeit with one last unknown obstacle in the way, I had to commit. After all, Paige would have cut up the bras anyway. And, although they were now in my hands, I wasn’t any closer to being free from the seat I was sharing with Violet. “Whatever,” I muttered. Paige and I both used that teenage word here and there, although I kind of regretted using it in this context. Even though everyone present knew my actual age, I still didn’t love the idea of portraying myself as the younger teen that Noelle thought I was. My appearance was bad enough; I really needed to avoid repeating ‘fine’ or ‘whatever’ too many times now that I had said both so recently. “Go on, then,” Paige said, “You can even choose the order!” No doubt predictably, I pulled the white bra from the small pile. Maybe Miley’s parents would call Noelle to check in, and the tall brunette would come racing down to apologize for all of this once she was informed that her real charge didn’t have a sister. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but I would prefer to delay cutting up my nicer bras on the off chance that it might happen before I got through all of them. But I had to start somewhere. So, I reluctantly lifted the scissors to the fabric . . . ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Babysitter" (40+ parts) and other stories on my Patreon: www.patreon.com/user?u=73056590

Chapter 7: ---------- When I woke up I was sore all over. The combination of dancing and half a night of intimate pleasure was more exercise than I was used to, and my muscles had noticed. It was still incredibly worth it, if only for the feeling of Cynthia snuggled against my back. One would expect that because of the dynamic of our relationship that I would be the one snuggled up to her, but while sleeping Cynthia was always the one snuggled up to me by morning. As if she showed her own vulnerability only when she was asleep. My best guess is that everybody shows their vulnerability somewhere, even if they are the perfect picture of in control otherwise. I didn't move, I just kept still and enjoyed the moment, letting Cynthia sleep. Until suddenly her head was on my shoulder and she was asking "don't you need to pee yet?" "Just a little," I replied honestly. She got another mischievous grin on her face and said "you should go to the bathroom then." Not exactly what I expected with that grin, and I couldn't help but be disappointed. Both because I didn't really want to get up, and because she wasn't immediately reasserting control. Not that the night before hadn't been absolutely wonderful, but it felt like too much, like I'd been given a great gift without any cost. At the time, I really needed that cost to exist. Nevertheless, I did as she said and got up and went to the bathroom. She came in halfway through. "We didn't take a shower last night," she said, "so we'll have to do that now." There was the attitude I longed to see in Cynthia. I washed Cynthia first of course, every bit of skin I could find, every fold explored. Only then did I wash myself. Breakfast was a bit more extensive than usual. Bacon and eggs and toast, orange juice and coffee. I happily ate it all, as did Cynthia. Well, when you use up calories you get hungry. Cynthia's parents were nowhere to be seen, so we took our time at the table, discussing what we were going to do with out summer. She had a little job in august to earn some cash, I had a different gig but at the same time. That was perfect, actually, giving us the whole month of july to enjoy each other's company. On top of that, my parents didn't have the first week off, and her parents would be away for two weeks after that. "So, monday at your place," Cynthia summed up, "I'll bring the necessary materials and I'll see if I can have you amuse me." "You don't need me to amuse you now?" I tried to play coy or shy or whatever you call that innocence thing. I tried, but failed, because it simply didn't fit the mood or the conversation. Nonetheless, she looked tempted for a second, but she said: "no, sorry Ensie sweetie. I need to go shopping for monday." A second later she added, "besides, come monday all your time is mine. So go read or something while you can." That was that. We took our time getting ready to head out, and we gave each other a long goodbye kiss. Monday couldn't come soon enough, but maybe it would be nice to have a few days, if only so my muscles could recover. In all our planning, we completely forgot about our dresses. They were still up in Cynthia's room where we had left them the night before. I couldn't remember where exactly that was though. Could you, after such a night? Which is more or less what I told my parents. Well, that it was still in Cynthia's room, not that I had forgotten because we had had such extensive sex that my legs still felt a bit wobbly and my mind couldn't think of anything else. "So, how was the dance?" Dad asked after a few moments of silence. "Oh." What was I supposed to answer to that. Well, now I would just have the confidence to blurt it all out, but back then I didn't. I went with the truth anyway, but a bit hesitantly. "It was a bit awkward at first, but Cyn is a good dancer." Ok, so that's not exactly what I would say now, nor was it really the truth. They were the easy truths, the little smooth rocks you can pick out of a bucket of sharp ones without hurting yourself. I couldn't say anything about how Cynthia had strength enough for me to lean on her. "That's... good. I'm glad you had fun," dad replied eventually. "Sorry we haven't been enthousiastic about this, princess, it's just a lot to wrap our heads around." "Well, you're only human," I replied with a smile that came entirely from trying to make sure that dad wouldn't feel guilty. Then I gave him a kiss on the cheek and headed off to my room. ---------- This one is a short chapter, sort of an interlude, the next one will kick off the summer shenanigans. I had a plan for 19 chapters, but I realize that this may not be enough to tell the story. I don't want to make it much longer, because I also need to get back to a couple other stories I'm writing, one of which is here.

Since my other weekly story post is fairly short, I decided to post the first part of one of my longer stories as a bonus. This story is not connected to my other stories and takes place in a near-future setting (about ten or so years into the future). It's my first attempt at a detective story and I have to admit that it was actually quite fun to write. To avoid spoilers, I will not be adding tags to this story until the tagged elements actually show up. Keeping secrets I look out the window at the rain pouring down. The clouds are as grey as lead over a city where life is equally bleak. The only light in my office is from the desk lamp. The bottle of whiskey next to it makes reflections that I'd probably find interesting if I was the artistic type. But I'm not. I study the bottle. It's almost empty; two, maybe three shots left. It's a good thing I have six more in my gun. And if I'm really lucky, I won't have to use them all tonight. There's barely a hint of movement outside the frosted window on the door before it opens and she walks in. I lean back to take in the whole package. The long, blonde hair, short dress and legs that go on for miles scream out 'trophy wife' but the sunglasses big enough to hide a serious shiner and the long-sleeved coat despite the weather hints at something darker. "Ms. Bullit?" "That's my name, doll." "Excuse me?" she says, indignation obvious in her voice. "Oh shit, you're real. One moment." Tracy quickly focused on the top right of her field of view to switch off the AR. Colour flooded back into the world, washing away the image of a 1940s office with a significantly more modern one. Tracy reached back behind her right ear to eject the small chip. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't expecting anybody to actually be here." Tracy put the chip in the open desk drawer and rose. "Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea?" This was the first client for more than a week and she couldn't afford to lose her. Not with the rent being due in only a few days. "Um, no thanks," the woman said, seeming a little off balance at Tracy's sudden change in demeanour. She sat down in the chair in front of the desk. Tracy sat back down again and placed her phone on the desk between them. "Do you mind if I record this, Ms...?" Tracy looked expectantly at the woman. "Uh, Smith," she said, obviously lying. Tracy sighed. "Look, Ms. 'Smith'," she said calmly. "I track down information or people for a living, and I happen to be pretty good at it. So unless whatever you want me to find out isn't related to you at all and you're planning on paying me with cash, asking your name is more of a formality than anything else." Tracy didn't add 'or if you didn't turn your phone completely off before entering my office, or took a taxi here and didn't pay with cash, or got caught on the surveillance cameras in the shop next door', or any of the five other ways she could find Ms. Smith's name out in less than ten minutes. After all, there was no point in scaring her off. The woman seemed to deflate a little as she sank back in her chair. "Devereux. Camille Devereux." Tracy restarted the recording on her phone, erasing the last twenty seconds. "So, Ms Devereux, do you mind if I record this? It'll make it easier for me to write up my reports for you later and you have my word that whatever you say will be one hundred percent confidential." That last bit wasn't entirely true, but 'one hundred percent' sounded more reassuring than 'mostly'. Ms Devereux sat down opposite Tracy, resting her handbag on her lap. If it wasn't for her clothes, she could have been ripped straight from Tracy's 1940's AR. "It's my husband," she said after a couple of seconds. Of course it is. Tracy leaned forward, trying to seem interested although she wasn't expecting to hear anything she hadn't heard a hundred times before. "I think he's having an affair," Ms. Devereux blurted out. She seemed almost relieved after getting that off her chest. God, what I wouldn't do for an interesting case. It wouldn't even have to be anything serious. "What makes you think that?" Tracy pulled a notepad and pencil out of her desk drawer. Audio recordings were all well and good, but sometimes you wanted notes that you could set fire to and be sure that they were irrevocably destroyed. "I'm not sure exactly when it started. Dennis has always been a little secretive about his work." "So what is his job?" "He works for an investment firm. Smith & Smythe. The second one is with a 'y' and an 'e'," Ms. Devereux said, anticipating Tracy's question. "Nothing big or important. He always says he's just moving papers and making sure all the t's are dotted and all the i's are crossed." Tracy looked up from the doodles in the margin of her notepad and raised an eyebrow. "I know," Ms. Devereux said, "but that's how he says it." Tracy nodded. "Usually he's as regular as clockwork. Leaving for work at eight and back every day just after six." "Mm-hmm." There still wasn't anything that told Tracy that this case would be anything out of the ordinary. Ms Devereux continued. "Every other Saturday is date night and... and..." She sighed. "I know it sounds boring, but I love him." "And what changed?" Tracy asked. "What makes you think he's cheating on you?" "He started coming home late, or not at all. Forgetting things. And then there are weird charges on the credit card. It just isn't like him." "What kind of charges?" "I don't know. They were all to those anonymised online services. You know, like wemovemoney4u.com. I tried to find out where the money was going, but I couldn't even get access to their login page." "I'm not surprised. You usually have to use a single, specific device connected to your account there." "So I'd need his phone or computer?" "Yeah." Tracy sucked her teeth and stroked her chin. "You do realise that all of this doesn't necessarily mean he's having an affair, right?" "I know, but we've even stopped..." Ms. Devereux hesitated awkwardly. "You know..." "Ah." "I just need to know." Ms. Devereux sniffed She looked like she was about to cry. Tracy decided that a distraction was called for, so she put down her notepad. "So, just out of curiosity, what made you come here. My ad says pretty clearly that I specialise in online stuff." Tracy briefly touched the plastic port behind her right ear for emphasis, trying to make it look like an absent-minded gesture. Ms. Devereux smiled sheepishly. "Dennis isn't really what you'd call charming if you meet him in person so I figured that whatever he's doing, it's going to be online. That's how we met. He's so different online. Caring and funny and..." Her voice trailed off. "OK," Tracy said, "I'll see what I can find out. But you might not like what I find. You have to be prepared for that." "Oh, whatever it is, I'm sure we can work it out." Riiiiiiight. Like I haven't heard that one before. I'm going to find him fucking your sister or something, and you're going to 'work it out'. Oh well, at least it'll pay the bills. Tracy spent the next half hour getting all the details she felt she needed about Dennis Devereux from his wife. Then, after transferring the initial fee and Tracy promising to let her know as soon as she had something, Ms. Devereux left. Tracy transferred the audio file on her phone to a speech-to-text program and read through the transcript before saving it. Next she double-checked the information Ms. Devereux had given her. It wasn't that she didn't trust her, but Tracy didn't want any surprises. It all checked out though. Luckily, Smith & Smythe wasn't the only company in their building, so Tracy didn't have any trouble finding someone who had time to see her the same day. It was still three hours until Mr. Devereux would be done at work, so Tracy went over her equipment, making sure all the batteries were fully charged and all the memory chips were empty. The only thing she needed to do was to fill the tank of the car and she could do that on the way. As she lugged the two heavy suitcases down the stairs, she cursed the landlord for not fixing the elevator and she cursed herself for picking an office on the fourth floor, even if the view was nice. Once she was on the ground floor, the suitcases became more managable although the little wheels would find every little crack and bump as they rolled along the floor. Tracy managed to block the closing door with her butt and backed out onto the sidewalk. It was like walking into a wall of heat. The heat had already dried most of the rain, leaving just a rank smell and air that felt almost sticky. Beads of sweat immediately began to form on Tracy's forehead. She looked quickly up and down the street before walking briskly across it, eager to reach the shadow of the parking garage on the other side. The old security guard at the entrance looked up from his newspaper when she came closer. "Hi Jamal", Tracy said cheerfully. "What's new?" Jamal ran his hand over his grey hair. "Not much," he said. "The world is still going to hell, politicians are still lying and athletes are still cheating." He smacked his paper for emphasis. Tracy wasn't sure exactly how old Jamal was, but it had to be at least eighty. He had been working the security booth in the garage when she moved in to her office four years earlier and he always seemed to be there. Tracy suspected he lived in one of the cars. He was also the only person she knew that still only read newspapers on paper instead of just using a tablet. "Maybe you should switch to books instead. At least the plot makes sense in them." Jamal snorted softly. "Work?" he asked and nodded to the suitcases. "Well, a girl's got to eat, you know." Tracy smiled and ducked around the barrier blocking the exit. "Just be careful then." "Stop worrying Jamal, You know I don't go anywhere near trouble. That's what I have my little friends for." She patted the suitcases. Tracy made her way down the ramp, trying to ignore the smell rising from the lower levels. She stopped at her van: a greyish-beige, medium-sized one that was about as non-descript as possible. After deactivating both alarms, she opened the side door and loaded in both the suitcases and the small backpack she was wearing. Then she got in and started the engine. OK, first the petrol station and then Smith & Smythe.

Chapter 5: ---------- Our final exams flew past as if they were made of time. After we were stuck with a short week of school without any classes. None of the teachers were crazy enough to try to teach anymore, so this time was used to prepare the graduation dance and say our goodbyes to our soon-to-be-former classmates, while the teachers corrected our exams. Cynthia still did not allow me to show my affection toward her at school, though she also said she was looking forward to the impact it would have at the dance. In hindsight, I should at least have told Rebecca before the dance. She was my best friend, she should have known. That tuesday Cyn told me to come over after school. She blocked my eyes with her hands as she led me to her room, pausing here and there for a kiss in my neck. When she finally released me from my hand-induced blindness, I was staring at her bed, where two dresses were laid out for my eyes to feast upon. The first was a floor length dress with sleeves. It was mainly a soft blue with a slightly fuller shade as a deeper layer. To break the monotony, the dress had highlights in a soft pink. Most notably the ribbons along the front and sleeves, lining along the breasts and here and there the seams. Above the dress, there was a pink lace necklace with a little bell attached. The other dress was a somewhat shorter and less poofy affair and came with a sizable pair of black leather boots. The dress itself had a black skirt horizontally slashed with red folds. Above that lay a sturdy looking corset, again in black but with vertical red lines. There was a top for beneath the corset, but it didn't look big enough to hide the cleavage Cynthia would have. Yeah, it was pretty obvious that was going to be her dress. "They're beautiful," I told Cynthia, turning around. She was holding a pair of panties, as adorably pink as the ribbons on my dress, with a blue white kitty face on the front and an equally blue tail on the back. "And these are going to be your underwear for that night," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "And if you'll let me, I'd also like to take them back off you." That last part was with a lot less confidence and with a lot more care. I already knew she didn't want to go over sex too quickly or too lightly, but it was still heartwarming to hear her so hesitant when she spoke about it. Her normal dominant posture making way for one of worry and care. If anything, that made me love her even more. Nevertheless, I had to make her wait. A promise right that instant seemed wrong, too eager. If she was taking this so carefully, then it would have been wrong for me to just dive into it because I wanted to do anything for her. No, it needed to be right, and I wouldn't be able to see if it was until the time came. So I told her I couldn't promise anything, that the dance would tell. "Sounds fair," she replied, her full confidence back into her voice. "So, try it on!" I nodded and started to undress, but Cynthia stopped me. "No-no, let me." She took her time undressing me, enjoying the opportunity. She enjoyed brushing my skin whenever she pulled something off. She gave me a kiss halfway through. She helped me get dressed too, though there was not nearly as much work there and it was a bit clumsier too. She did take satisfaction from putting that little bell around my neck. The first of many. It felt nice, but also in a weird way intimate. Not that I could tell why. My dress wasn't the only one that needed checking out. Cynthia began undressing herself, but I immediately jumped in. I didn't have any right to undress her, yet that didn't mean I shouldn't lend a hand anyway. She bit her lip and let me. In hindsight, she was really getting antsy, and had she not had as much self control as she did, we would've had sex right then and there. Instead, I simply helped her get her dress on. Her skirt fell slightly below the knees, the top covered her to just above her nipples. She was still wearing bra, so she unclipped that and took it off so I could get started on the corset. I yanked the threads at the back as hard as I could, as I had seen in movies a few times. I was a bit disappointed she didn't gasp before she told me to tie it up. I had to redo it anyway, it was not equally tight all the way up, so it needed some good tugging at the bottom. "Better," she said when I was done. When she turned around, her breasts were on display. I was a bit jealous that others were going to get to see them like this, but I didn't voice any of that to Cynthia. Whatever pleased her and all that. After we enjoyed looking at each other and ourselves for a while, Cynthia turned to me and went: "I asked you here for two reasons. The second being..." She hesitated for a second. "With our dresses, we have an excuse to get our parents together and tell them." "Tell them what?" I almost went, but I realized in time to keep my mouth shut, so instead I said: "oh." "You should call your parents now." That was not so much a command as it was a call to action, a challenge for me to be brave. Ten minutes was all it took for my parents to get there. That was entirely faster than I had expected them to get there. I mean, they had picked me up at Cynthia's before, but even if they knew the route by heart it they had stepped on it. Dropping everything they were doing and rushing over. They would have had to. When the doorbell rang, Cynthia distracted me with a kiss. "To calm your nerves," she said, though it may well have been to calm her own. This was as new to her as it was to me. Nevertheless, at the time, she still looked like a rock to me. Completely and utterly solid. We waited for Cynthia's mom to call us down before we left Cynthia's room. The top of the stairs proved to be a barrier, but one that was conquered by her hand grabbing mine. She led the way, but approaching the living room door she let go. Not to keep up appearances, as you might think, but because you cannot approach a topic in your own way if you throw it in someone's face first. I was so nervous I didn't even hear my parents compliment my dress. Nevertheless, I showed it off automatically, twirling around and actually enjoying the caress of the fabric against my legs. Cynthia told me after that while she got compliments too, our parents were clearly not as thrilled about how much cleavage she was showing. Of course, that was forgotten the second the topic changed to the actual matter at hand. "Oh, and for practicality's sake," Cynthia said, "we're going to the dance together." My attention was never so sharp as that moment. My dad nodding 'ok' seemed to be in slow motion. "Because, you know, we ARE together." Our parents didn't seem to register it right away, but when they saw Cynthia holding my hand it sank in. Cynthia's mom pretty quickly went: "oh! Should've seen that coming when you started showing up toward he end of a school year, Ensleigh dear." My own parents were not as enthused. "Are you sure this is what you want?" My mom asked, while my dad just looked on, apparently lost in his own mental maze. Probably trying to block out all the lesbian porn he had ever watched. Cynthia nudged me. "Yeah mom," I replied, "she... I... I've been looking for someone like her." It betrayed so much and yet said so little. My mom didn't really understand of course. Most people assume more innocence than you actually have. Especially if you're into weird things and they are not. That's most people, by the way. Some people will say that everybody is into something weird, but that's simply not true. Most people only think they are into something weird, but really, they simply have no idea what is out there and consider even a different sexual position to be 'weird'. They'd faint if they ever went to a fetish party. We all sat and stood around awkwardly for a while. Until Cyn's dad came home and he got the same surprise as the rest. He just smiled and said: "So long as you're happy sweetheart, it's all fine by me." A second later he added, "if there's ever a problem, even if it's embarrassing, come to me. I might be able to help. And that goes for either of you." Suddenly her mother's attention was entirely focused on her father, some kind of weird mixture of curiosity and pride. As if she didn't really know her husband afterall, but was glad to have chosen him. I tell you that happily at this point as if I had figured it out right then, but to be honest it took me until after the end of our relationship before I realized. "Come, let's go pull off our dresses and prepare them for friday," Cynthia suggested. Her usually commanding tone was hidden behind layers of... relief and love, I think. I never really asked her. When we were up the stairs, I whispered in her ear "I need to use the bathroom." She let me. I was a bit disappointed. We hadn't done anything special in a while and thus I really longed to do something intimate with her. Because that's what all that kinky stuff turns out to be. Especially if you do it with someone you actually care about. Cynthia, of course, was preparing herself for the dance and wanted me pure and true and like a true girlfriend. To that end, we didn't do anything all week. For me, that meant the dance took an eternity to arrive.

Keeping secrets Part 8 (of 11) It was around lunch time when Tracy arrived at Jessie and Diego's salvage yard. She would have been there sooner, but it had taken a while to find the organic, free-range, vegan, weirdo-nudist-hippie-commune-approved lunch she was planning on bribing Kat with. As she got out of the van, she could hear clanging of hammers on metal punctuated by loud German swearing. Following the sound, she found Diego furiously demolishing a car using only a sledgehammer and foul language. Tracy decided to leave him be and quietly backed away. She went to the front office and quickly realised why Diego was upset. Sitting by the desk with both her legs in casts, balancing the paperwork on a tray on her lap, was Jessie. "Oh my god Jessie. What happened?" Tracy rushed over. "Oh, just a little mechanical failure." Jessie waved her hands dismissively. "It doesn't look that little to me," Tracy said, putting the box of food on the desk and grabbing a chair. "It's embarrassing, really. I had a flat on the way back from the race, and I kind of lost control a little." Jessie smiled sheepishly. "They're just hairlines. I'll be fine in a month or two. And besides, it'll give me time to focus on our movies." "Please don't tell me you're going to make any new ones while you're still in those." Tracy pointed at the casts. "Maybe, maybe not. They are a giant hassle though. You'd be surprised at how many things become harder to do like this." "I bet. But shouldn't you still be in a hospital?" "Nah. I got out of there as soon as I could. You know I can't stand those places. They're full of sick people." Jessie picked up a marker and tossed it to Tracy. "So, wanna sign it?" "Yeah, sure." Tracy scrawled her name on Jessie's left shin, noticing that there were already more than a dozen names on the casts as well as a drawing of a green car. "Is Kat around? I need to talk to her." "She's in the shack, I think. I haven't seen her today." "OK. Talk to you later?" Tracy stood and picked up the lunch. "I'm not going anywhere," Jessie replied. "At least not very quickly." Tracy crossed the yard and knocked on the door of Kat's shack. "It's Tracy. Are you decent in there?" "Huh? Uh, yeah, I mean no. Gimme a minute, will you?" came Kat's reply through the door. There was the sound of things being moved around as if Kat was frantically looking for something. "Do you need a hand or something?" "No, no. I'm fine. Just a sec… Ah, there it is." The sounds stopped and Tracy thought she could hear some loud whispers inside. Then the door opened and Kat came out wearing an oversized, green and white tracksuit. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Tracy asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Kinda, but not really. Let's talk out here." Kat gestured to some old patio furniture. "I brought lunch," Tracy said, trying to steer the conversation away from whoever was inside the shack. She held out the box. "Great! I'm starving." Kat grabbed the box and began eating. "So what was it you wanted to talk about?" Before Tracy had a chance to answer, Kat interrupted her. "Hang on. This needs something." She put down the food and got up. "Be right back." When Kat returned, she dropped a handful of questionable-looking sausage pieces on top of the salad and slathered it all with barbecue sauce. "Ahh, perfect," she said with her mouth full. "So, Dieter said you had a problem?" "Dieter?" "Yes, Uncle Dieter." "I thought his name was Diego," Tracy said. "Oh, he wishes. He thinks that name 'better reflects his passionate, Latin nature'." Kat made air-quotes. "You know he dyes his hair too, right?" "Huh?" Tracy was getting a lot of new information about somebody she thought she knew. "Oh yeah. He's just as blonde as me." Tracy chuckled, making mental notes about all the new things she could tease Diego about. "You want some of this?" Kat held out the salad to Tracy. "Nah. I'm not really a fan of barbecue sauce." For a few moments, they just sat there in silence; Kat shovelling food into her mouth. Then Tracy spoke again. "I thought you were one of those 'farm-fresh, organic, not tested on animals, PETA-approved' vegetarians. If I'd have known about this," she pointed at the sausage salad, "I would have brought a couple of pulled pork sandwiches instead." Kat laughed. "Next time, Tracy, next time. So, what was it you needed to talk to me about?" "I had some questions about the hardwired bits of VR-rigs. A friend of mine said that they were pretty similar to BTL's." "Parts of them are," Kat said cautiously. "You're going to have to be a little more specific." "You know the safety paralysis, right?" "Yesss?" "Is it possible to override it without changing the wiring of the computer you use to access the VR?" "I suppose, but why would you want to? There's no benefit to flailing about uncontrollably." "But what if you only wanted to override parts of it. Just make the body do a specific thing." Kat put down the food and stroked her chin. "Maybe," she finally admitted. "It would depend on what you're trying to do. Complex stuff would be probably be impossible. So no remote-controlled, wireheaded assassins; despite what they show in movies. But getting muscles to twitch or tighten or relax might be doable. It'd take ages to figure out the coding, but I suppose it's possible." "How specific could this control be?" Tracy leaned forward. "I don't know. Now what's this all about? Because I don't think you're planning on making an exercise VR where people actually use their muscles. Although that would be a good business idea." "OK, I have this case where I'm watching a guy because his wife thinks he's cheating on her." "Well, was he?" "I guess that depends on your definition of cheating. I tracked him to this website-" "Let me guess: A fuck-VR," Kat said and rolled her eyes. "People are so predictable." "Not quite. When I enter the site, I'm in this giant bedroom and I'm baby-sized. Complete with a diaper and everything." "That's cute," Kat said and chuckled. "Yeah, well, they had simulated a whole bunch of details like a messed-up balance to make it hard to walk, and you have trouble talking, and..." Tracy paused. "And incontinence?" Tracy blushed. "Yeah," she admitted. "And let me guess: That doing that felt so good it triggered an orgasm?" "Yeah," Tracy said again. "That doesn't sound so weird. I mean, it's kind of a niche market, but still." Kat speared a piece of sausage with her fork and ate it. "That's not the weird part. Believe me, I've seen weirder VR's." "What then?" "When I logged off, I had..." Tracy paused uncomfortably. "You know... Done it. For real." It took a few seconds before Kat understood what Tracy meant. "Oh," she said. "And you're wondering if it was the VR that made you do it," Kat said; more a statement of fact than a question. "Or if you did it yourself." "I kind of need to know what happened," Tracy admitted. Just then, the door of Kat's shack opened. A woman who could have been Tracy's sister came out. She had the same tall and gangly build, the same short, brown hair, and Tracy was pretty sure she had the same outfit at home. She knelt next to Kat's chair and kissed her hand. "Thank you for a wonderful night, Mistress Katarina," she said before getting back up and half-jogging away. Kat noticed Tracy's stare. "What?" "I... Mistress Katarina?" "Barbecue wasn't the only reason why I was kicked out of the commune." Kat smiled smugly. "I thought you said I wasn't your type," Tracy said. "But she looked just like me." "Tracy, are you jealous?" "No!" Tracy's voice jumped an octave. "I just... I mean... She looked just like me, and apparently she was your type." "Tracy," Kat said calmly. "You're not my type because you're so vanilla that I wouldn't be surprised if you wore a swimsuit in the shower." "Hey, I've done some seriously weird shit," Tracy protested, feeling oddly defensive. "In VR's, sure. But what's the wildest thing you've done in real life?" "I..." Tracy stopped. Then she sighed. "And that is why you're not my type." Tracy didn't want to admit that Kat was right, but she wasn't wrong. She hadn't even felt comfortable walking around naked in her own apartment with the blinds closed. "And now you're feeling guilty because it felt good when you peed." Again, more of a statement than a question. "No. And I didn't say I liked it," Tracy protested. "Oh please. Of course you liked it. It was a sex-VR. It's designed to make you feel good. That's the whole point." Kat just looked at Tracy, waiting. Tracy deflated. "OK, maybe," she finally admitted. "But I just need to know how the VR made me do it for real," she added quickly. "Sure, sure. It sounds like an interesting puzzle and I'm bored anyway, so why not. Do you have the log files?" Tracy fumbled through her pockets and pulled out a thumb drive that she handed to Kat, who inserted it into her laptop. Kat whistled. "Quick question: When you were on this site, did you have any other uncontrolled movements? Arms or legs, stuff like that?" "I don't know. I mean, when I logged out, I still had my keyboard where I left it and I didn't have any bruises or anything, so I don't think so." Kat nodded. Then she looked at the screen and rubbed her chin. "You're missing some files here," she said after scrolling through the contents of the thumb drive. "I am?" Tracy walked around Kat to get a look at the screen. "Well, those are all my programs captured." Kat looked up at her. "But were you looking for this kind of info to begin with?" "No. Financial data." "Well that explains it. Anyway, the best way for me to get those files is to look at them live." "Live? Do you mean...?" "Yep. If you want answers, you're going back there." Kat closed the laptop. "Now?" "No. I need a couple of hours to set up my gear and get ready. Why don't you bring the suitcase over this afternoon and we can get started then." "And how much is this going to cost me?" Tracy asked, suddenly remembering that Kat probably wasn't doing this out of the goodness of her heart. "If I get to keep whatever code I find, it's on the house." "What do you mean?" "Oh relax. I mean actual code, not records. Blackmail is just too easy to trace." "OK," Tracy said cautiously. "So I'll see you... Around five-ish?" Tracy sighed. "I guess."

Keeping secrets Part 7 When Tracy woke up, the sun was high outside her window. She checked the old alarm clock next to the bed and found that she had been asleep for almost fourteen hours. And to her great relief, she hadn't wet herself again. She did, however, have to go to the bathroom. Badly. Tracy tap-danced to the bathroom and was in such a hurry that she almost tripped over her own pants as she pulled them down. Stumbling the last couple of steps, she barely made it in time. As Tracy sat there, she couldn't help feeling like something was missing. Her thoughts kept returning to the events of the evening before. Sex-VR's had been around since roughly five minutes after VR itself was invented. And simulated orgasms was one of their main selling points. 'Satisfaction guaranteed!' It wasn't like last night's VR-experience was the weirdest thing she had come to. One time, she had ended up having an orgasm while dressed as a blue, plush squirrel, sitting atop an iron lung containing Margaret Thatcher as it was dropped out of a B-52. That had been disturbing. The problem was the fact that she had wet herself in real life, just like in the VR. She had never heard of a VR overriding the safety paralysis. She didn't even know if it was technically possible and not to mention if it could have any side- or after-effects. She would have to find out in case this was an emerging trend in VR's. After a quick shower, Tracy decided that her own personal research would have to wait. She got dressed and rolled the suitcase up to her desk to hook it up to her desktop computer. Business before pleasure; or at least before satisfying my own curiosity. Tracy opened the files she had copied and began the slow and tedious work of tracking down Dennis' activities. Five hours, seventy-three printouts, four cans of energy drinks and two microwave burritos later, Tracy finally found what she was looking for. "OK Dennis, let's see some proof here." Tracy began scrolling up and down, following the information through the file, and that's when she found something she wasn't expecting. The giant woman hadn't been computer generated. She had been another user. That's when something occurred to Tracy and a quick search through the files confirmed her suspicions. The 'small'- and 'large' options wasn't about the avatar polygon count. It determined the role you had in the VR. This put Dennis in a whole new light, because as far as Tracy could see, Dennis was a 'large'. "So, you're not into wearing diapers," Tracy said to the screen. "You want someone else to wear them. I'm not sure your wife will think that's any better." Tracy wagged a finger at the screen. "You, my friend, are in some serious doo-doo." She paused, then added "In more ways than one," and chuckled. Tracy opened a desk drawer and rummaged around to find a new thumb drive. After ripping apart the packaging, Tracy began copying all the files to it. It was always a good idea to have all the evidence ready for the client when you break the news that their spouse is sneaking around behind their back to change the diapers of other people. That sort of thing was generally not covered in the marriage vows. "Now... How much money did you spend on this Dennis?" Tracy dove back into the files, looking for the financial information. Finding it was a piece of cake, but unfortunately, it was encrypted. Tracy made a few alterations to the code she had copied so she had an unlimited number of tries to enter the password instead of the customary three. Then she started a brute force decryption program. Depending on how complex the password was, it could take five seconds or it could take five weeks, but her phone would let her know when the program was done. In the meantime, she had other matters to investigate. ~~~ "Come on Ratzie, it's a simple enough question." Tracy almost had to shout to be heard over the music in the strip club. Ratz, her supplier of software of questionable legality, was distracted by the curvy blonde gyrating on the stage. Tracy snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Hello, Earth to Ratzie. Are you even listening?" Ratz tore his eyes away from the stripper and sighed. "Yeah, I heard you. You wanted to bypass some security systems. I thought I sold you a battering ram a couple of weeks ago." "Not security systems. I asked if it was even possible to bypass something like the VR safety paralysis." "Fuck if I know. I just do software." Ratz returned his attention to the dancer. Tracy moved around the table, blocking Ratz' view. "What do you mean?" "That shit's hardwired; like BTL's. You need a hardware engineer." "Fine, do you know any?" Tracy moved again, making sure she blocked Ratz' view. "Hell no. I don't handle BTL's, you know that. Skinner would kill me alive if he caught me dealing on his turf." "Kill you alive?" Tracy raised an eyebrow and tried to give Ratz a did-you-even-hear-what-you-just-said look, but he was busy trying to see what was going on behind her. "Oh, never mind." "Fine fine fine, now do you mind moving? Candi and Ruby are up and I looooove a double feature." Tracy walked out of the strip club, dodging a group of drunks who looked like they were two thirds of the way through a bachelor party. The only things left for them was the strip club, the drunken brawl and spending the night in the drunk tank. Once she was outside and could hear herself think again, Tracy checked her phone. Still nothing from her computer. OK, so Ratz was a bust. And I don't know any hardware... Hang on; Kat. Tracy pulled out her phone again and called Jessie. The phone rang for almost half a minute before Diego picked up. "Yes?" "Oh, hey D. Is Jessie there?" "She is racing." It was hard to hear him over the crowd and engines on his end. "Can she call you back in a while?" "Actually, I was just wondering if Kat's still around. I need to talk to her about something." "Yes, but she is on a date. Is it important? I will send you her number." "Nah, nothing that can't wait. I'll come by tomorrow. Say hi to Jessie for me." Tracy's phone gave a soft buzz letting her know there was a message. "I will." Tracy hung up and checked the message. It was Kat's number and email address. She thought about sending her a message, but decided against it. Getting back in her car, Tracy headed back home. On the way, she went over what little information she had and tried to formulate a plan. OK, the VR is somehow able to override the safety paralysis and provoke a physical reaction. How? No idea. Check with Kat; maybe she'll be able to figure it out based on the log files. Why make the users wet themselves? Why not; that's what they're there for to begin with. But why include the extra code? Did it make the experience more intense? Tracy considered that last point. The virtual orgasm had been unlike anything she had ever experienced before in VR; or in real life, for that matter. A loud car horn brought Tracy back to her senses. The light had turned green and apparently the car behind her was in a terrible hurry. Tracy stepped on the accelerator and the van shot forward, placating the speed demon behind her. It didn't take long before her brain began churning again. What was supposed to be a fairly straight-forward surveillance case had given her more questions than she knew what to do with. And they all circled back to the hardware riddle. That was when a tiny little voice in the back of her head pointed out that maybe it wasn't the site that had made her pee. After all, she had done it voluntarily the second time. Would she still have wet herself if she hadn't done it on purpose in the VR? All these questions, and more, led Tracy to the same, inevitable conclusion. "I need more data," Tracy said with an exasperated sigh. She was going to have to go back to the website. And that just brought up a whole new set of challenges. If it really was the VR making her wet herself, not doing it on purpose wouldn't make a difference and she would need to take precautions. After all, she really didn't want to log out and find herself sitting in a puddle of pee again. She wasn't sure she could handle the indignity, or the laundromat at night, again. On second thought, maybe I should wait until I've had a chance to check with Kat. Tracy's phone gave a triumphant fanfare. The password protection was cracked. That was quick. Looks like I'm going to be combing through financial records tonight. Tracy stopped at a liquor store to get some vodka, the high-octane, rocket fuel kind, before going home. If she was going to spend the rest of the night tracking anonymous payments, she was going to need it. Almost four hours of mind-numbingly tedious spreadsheets later Tracy finally found what she was looking for. After locating Dennis' money transfers she noticed that the numbers didn't match what she had paid unless he paid more than six times what she had paid. So she had started looking where the money went and that's when she hit the jackpot. The profits of the website went to a bank account registered to a Denis Devereau. There was no way that that was a coincidence. Dennis wasn't a customer. He was running the site. And he was making some serious cash. "Dennis, Dennis, Dennis. Hiding money from the missus? Not very smart." Tracy wagged her finger at the screen. "Also, 'Denis Devereau'? You couldn't find a better fake name?" Tracy carefully documented all the financial information and copied it to the thumb drive for Mrs. Devereaux. Previous experiences had taught her that having this kind of evidence for future divorce proceedings sometimes resulted in a bonus, and those were always welcome. By the time she was done, it was closer to early morning than late night, so Tracy decided to go to bed. She was going to need some sleep if she was going to have to deal with Kat.

I guess I can post this a day or two early. After all, it's pollen season and my meds are making me a little woozy, so I'll pretend I can't remember I was planning on posting this on Tuesday. 😉 Keeping secrets Part 6 Tracy reached down and touched the smooth plastic covering the diaper. This was certainly not what she had expected. But what had she really expected? Other than some harem fantasy, of course. She inspected herself, and gave a mental sigh of relief when she found that she still had the grown-up avatar body, despite her clothes, or lack thereof. At least he doesn't seem to be into kids. Thank god. Tracy turned to her side and awkwardly got to her feet. The floor felt wobbly and the big diaper forced her legs apart, so the few steps to the huge chair in front of her became a clumsy waddle. Tracy almost fell, but managed to grab the arm rest of the chair before falling. Taking another step, she came close enough to stand up straight, albeit in a very broad-legged stance. Tracy adjusted the unfamiliar bulk between her legs. There was a slight crinkling sound. The detective in her couldn't help cataloguing everything. The level of detail here is amazing. It must have taken ages to program. Sound, balance... Tracy took a deep breath... ...and smell. "That'th thome theriouth..." Tracy paused. "Thilly Thammy thingth wude thongth." She rolled her eyes a little. Oh that's cute. She wasn't sure whether she should be impressed or worried with the level of detail that whoever programmed this had included. Focusing on the lower left of her field of vision brought up the terminal window, showing her tracking program hard at work. All she had to do, was to make sure she wasn't kicked until it was done. Tracy dismissed the window and looked around the room. Other than everything being three times too big, it looked quite normal. There was a double bed with a night stand on either side, a dressing table with a mirror, the chair Tracy was still holding on to, and a wardrobe that looked big enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler to Narnia through. The one thing that was missing though, was other people. OK, so if this is a solo kind of VR, maybe he's not having an affair. The door knob was too high up for Tracy to reach, so she started looking around for something to stand on. She let go of the chair and waddled over to the bed to look under it. After just a couple of steps however, the floor decided to tilt sharply to one side and Tracy fell. Twisting desperately, she managed to avoid falling face first, but the impact still knocked the breath out of her. Tracy rolled over on her back and tried to get her breath back and that's when it happened. There was the slightest twinge of pressure and then she felt a rush of warmth spread across her crotch and down between her legs. She was peeing. And she hadn't even felt that she needed to go to the bathroom. Tracy rolled over on her side and got up on her hands and knees, not wanting to sit on the wet diaper, and crawled towards the bed. The floor felt more stable that way. However, with every step the slowly swelling diapers would rub against her like a velvet hand. Tracy felt conflicted. On the one hand, the diapers felt really good. But on the other hand, they were diapers. And wet ones at that. She knew she was supposed to feel... disgusted? Ashamed? Anything other than horny? She tried rationalising. It's not like they're real. It's all just a computer simulation. And this place is probably programmed to make me feel this... There was another rush of pee, this time it felt different. Better. The swollen diapers spread the liquid warmth much faster this time. Tracy's entire crotch felt like it was enveloped in a tingling wave of pleasure. ...way. She froze, everything else forgotten as she came. Tracy sat down. The resulting wet squish triggering another massive orgasm. She closed her eyes and let out an involuntary squeal as it washed over her like a tidal wave. It was unlike anything Tracy had ever felt before. She was so lost in her ecstasy that she almost missed the sound of the door opening. Forcing her eyes open, Tracy saw a giant woman standing in the doorway. "So this is where you're hiding," she said. "I thought I heard something." She bent down and scooped Tracy up as if she weighed nothing. "Wha..." Tracy protested weakly and tried to get away. "Lemme go." "Shh-shh-shh, little princess," the giant said. "Mommy's here." She produced a large pacifier and pushed it into Tracy's mouth. Tracy almost reflexively began sucking on it. "That's better, isn't it?" She rocked Tracy gently and stroked her back with a hand the size of a frying pan. A warm feeling of complete and utter comfort filled Tracy. It was like her entire world turned into a warm, fluffy, cotton cloud. All she wanted to do was to snuggle closer. The giant woman gave Tracy's butt a little squeeze. "Does mommy's little princess need a new diaper?" Tracy only managed a weak moan before burying her face in the woman's chest. She felt herself being carried, but couldn't be bothered to look up. Then all of a sudden she was laid down on her back and the feeling went away. Tracy instinctively reached out for the woman, wanting that feeling of warmth and comfort to come back. Looking around, she saw she was lying on a changing table as big as her van. That's when a something occurred to her. How do I know that everything is really bigger and it's not just me that is smaller? The thought didn't bounce around her brain for long though. The giant woman began undoing Tracy's diaper. Tracy squirmed, but the woman easily held her down with one hand while removing the diaper with the other. "Now stop fussing princess." The woman used a washcloth to clean Tracy before applying enough baby powder to make Tony Montana pay attention. Tracy sneezed as some of the white cloud got in her nose. Then all of a sudden she was lifted up by her legs while the woman slipped a new diaper in under her butt. She lowered Tracy onto it and pulled it up between her legs to fasten it. The new diaper didn't feel anywhere as good as the old one. Tracy couldn't quite put her finger on it. It felt stiff and scratchy and... dry, Tracy realised. The woman picked Tracy up again and the wonderful feeling of warmth and comfort returned. She found herself not really wanting to do anything. The woman carried Tracy back to the bedroom and sat down in the armchair, letting Tracy lie against her chest. All she wanted to do was just lie there and listen to the woman's breath and heartbeat. There was really only one thing missing. Tracy closed her eyes and tried to relax the right muscles, which was an odd thought since the muscles in question weren't even real. In no time at all, she felt the now already familiar warmth spreading down between her legs. The combination of the comfort of being held and the sudden orgasmic rush of the wet diaper was so overpowering that Tracy only managed a happy little whimper around the pacifier still stuck in her mouth. Tracy wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she noticed a small, flashing, blue light down and to the left. She forced herself to focus on it, opening a small window that announced that the tracking program had found the information it had been looking for and had shut down after making a copy. For a brief moment, Tracy thought about logging out and getting away, but she felt just so unbelievably comfortable that her work ethic was easily overpowered. Besides, Tracy told herself, she had paid for an hour and it'd just be stupid to waste the money. So she snuggled closer, feeling like she didn't have a care in the world, and closed her eyes again. After what felt like only minutes, Tracy found herself floating in front of the login page, having been unceremoniously kicked when her prepaid time ran out. It took all of her willpower not to blow the rest of the money on the Kuznetsova debit card for another hour. Tracy opened the terminal window and confirmed that Dennis was still logged in. Good. That should give me time to get out of here before he has a chance to see my car again. Tracy used the admin-privileges that her backdoor gave her and erased all traces of her connecting to the network. Then she reached for the mental off-switch and disconnected. As her consciousness rushed back into her body, Tracy realised something was very wrong. The first thing that hit her was the smell: A pungent aroma that had become all too familiar over the last week. At first, Tracy thought she had left one of the windows open, but then she realised she was sitting in a puddle of urine. "What the hell?!?" Tracy put the keyboard away and carefully eased herself out of the beanbag, making sure the urine stayed in the depression made by her butt. She had never been more happy about the vinyl cover. Grimacing with disgust, Tracy peeled off the soaked jeans and underwear and put them in a plastic bag. She looked through the overnight bag that she kept under the front seat for for a towel to dry herself off, then cleaned herself as best as she could with the hand wipes she still had left. After pulling on a pair of old sweatpants from the overnight bag, Tracy opened the side door of the van and carefully eased the beanbag out, letting the urine pour down on the pavement. She quickly wiped the beanbag off with the towel and threw it in the bag with her wet jeans before tying it shut. A quick glance at the screen showed Tracy that Dennis' computer was still connected to the network, so she got in behind the wheel, opened all the windows and left the parking lot. Heading back home, Tracy debated whether to clean the car first, but personal hygiene won out. She left the bag of wet clothes in the car and hurried inside. After a long shower and a change of clothes, she found some other dirty laundry and headed for her usual 24-hour laundromat. While sitting in the laundromat, Tracy had time to think. Why had she wet herself? When she went into a VR or remote controlled her drones, her body was paralysed. That was a normal safety feature so you wouldn't flail around and hurt yourself. And she had never wet herself before. It wasn't like she had been drinking a lot either. She had even checked if the energy drinks and bars contained any diuretics. They didn't. Lots of other unhealthy chemicals though; including, to Tracy's disgust, something that was made from the anal secretions of beavers. So the only explanation was that it had something to do with the site itself. She would have to look over the log-files. A little over an hour later, she walked out with a bag full of clean clothes. Now, all she needed to do was to clean the car, and all traces of her 'little accident' would be gone. Tracy drove to a car wash and spent the better part of an hour cleaning the back of the car, including the beanbag. When she was done, she was feeling absolutely beat. Thankfully, the drive home was short, but by the time she parked the car and stumbled out of the parking garage, she was so tired that Jamal actually offered to abandon his post and help her across the street. Thankfully the landlord had fixed the elevator, so Tracy didn't have to use the stairs. Once she was inside, Tracy left the suitcase by the door and shuffled to the bedroom, falling face first onto the bed. She pulled the pillow down over her head to drown out the loud party next door and passed out.

Keeping secrets Part 5 Tracy woke up with a pounding headache and a tongue that felt and tasted like she had been licking a dirty carpet. She carefully opened her eyes and surveilled her surroundings. She was in her underwear on the sofa in Jessie and Diego's tiny living room. Outside the window the sun was rising over a pile wrecked cars in a display that would probably be quite artistic if it was a photo or a painting. But right now it was just glaringly painful. Tracy picked what she hoped was a bit of lint out of the corner of her mouth. The previous evening was a bit of a blur. She remembered using a camera drone to film almost four hours of footage of Jessie and Diego driving recklessly. Jessie had been true to her word and although there had been a couple of cases of her flashing random pedestrians or other drivers, she had stayed dressed most of the time. While Jessie and Diego had 'blown off some steam' afterwards, Tracy and Kat had had a chance to geek out. It turned out that they shared an interest in what Tracy liked to call 'circumventing computer security systems'. After that, they had ended up watching playlists of hacking scenes from old movies and drinking whenever there was bullshit hacking on the screen. After a particularly bad movie, they had taken a little break to look for snacks. Kat had gone on a little rant in which Tracy learned that she hadn't actually programmed digital drugs, but rather designed the chips themselves, making sure that they'd burn out after one use to keep people coming back for more. When they had gone back to their drinking game, the playlist had reached Hackers. Tracy could remember the first twenty minutes. Vaguely. After that, everything was worryingly blank. She was about to get up when her feet bumped into Kat lying under a blanket on the floor next to the sofa. She groaned and opened her eyes to peer up at Tracy. "You look like I feel," she croaked. "Mm-hmm," was all Tracy managed. Kat pushed the blanket aside and got up, revealing that she was completely naked. She left the blanket on the floor and shuffled towards the bathroom, giving Tracy a full view of the circuit board-pattern tattooed across her entire back. Tracy's brain slowly began adding two and two together, constantly getting to five. "Kat?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. Kat stopped and looked back at her. "We didn't..." Tracy paused. "Did we?" "Don't think so," Kat replied, not sounding entirely sure. "You're not really my type." With Kat out of the room, Tracy looked around for her clothes, finding her jeans bundled up next to the sofa and her t-shirt stuck halfway down between two of the cushions. She dressed as quickly as she managed and tried to sneak out. "Well, well, well. Doing the walk of shame, are we?" Tracy stopped, just standing there, still holding her shoes. She had forgotten that Jessie was one of the earliest risers she had ever known. It had made sleepovers really annoying when they were girls. "I..." "I mean, you two looked so cute all snuggled up together last night," Jessie continued Tracy felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "I... We... We didn't..." Jessie laughed. "I know. I'm just fucking with you. You were passed out across her lap while she was yelling at the screen. Wanna see the pictures?" Jessie held up her phone to show Tracy a picture of her and Kat on the sofa. Thankfully they were both dressed, although Kat's shirt was fully unbuttoned. "I hate you." Tracy sat down on a crate to put her shoes on. "I know," Jessie replied, still grinning. "I guess I should have warned you that Kat likes to be naked. And I don't mean just when she sleeps. Diego's parents lived in this weirdo, nudist, hippie commune in Brazil. His sister still does." "Uh-huh." Tracy tied her shoes and stood. "Anyway, are you staying for breakfast?" Tracy thought about it, but quickly came to the conclusion that it'd just be too awkward. "Thanks for the offer, but I have to get back to the office." "Duty calls, huh?" Tracy smiled and shrugged. "You know, I need money for my toys." "Speaking of toys, Kat said that the suitcase'll be ready on Tuesday or Wednesday." "Good. I think I might need it again soon." Tracy dug her keys out of her pocket and got in the car. "See you in a couple of days then. Oh, and make sure you don't use my name in the credits of your movie. I really don't need any job offers like last time." Tracy's drive back to the office was uneventful and when she pulled into the parking garage, Jamal was on duty as always. "Anyone looking for me?" Tracy asked. Jamal stopped biting the tip of his pencil and looked up from his crossword puzzle. "Not that I've noticed. Eight letters, 'state', ends with 'O, blank, A'?" "Paranoia?" Tracy suggested. "Very funny." Jamal raised the barrier and Tracy rolled past him and down the slope. Just as she rolled up the window, she heard him exclaim "Oklahoma!". When Tracy opened the door to her office, she was greeted with a gust of warm, stuffy air. Oh great. The air conditioning is on the fritz. Again. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her jacket on a chair as she crossed the room to her tiny apartment which made up the rest of her office space. She gave the air conditioning a whack, hoping it'd turn back on, but no luck. After leaving a message with her landlord about the air conditioning, Tracy opened a window and went to take a shower. Twenty minutes later, Tracy was sitting at her desk wearing nothing but a towel. Despite the shower, she was already almost as sweaty as the bottle of water in her hand. The desk fan was blowing across a tray full of ice cubes, creating a slightly cooler breeze, but it was fighting a losing battle against the heat. She checked her email, deleting the spam that made it past her filters. When that was done, there were only three left. One of them was for Alexandra Pavlova. Event Horizon had some additional details from their meeting. Tracy ignored that one. The other two were more interesting. One was from Michael Hunt, a friend of hers. He had a straight-forward surveillance job that he didn't have time for, so he wondered if she wanted it. Mike had three big problems: He didn't see how his name made it hard for people to take him seriously. Tracy had told him several times that he ought to change it. He also loved gambling, although he wasn't very good at it, and he always fell for married women. That meant he spent a lot of time hiding from bookies and angry husbands. Tracy wasn't sure which one it was now, but Mike was a decent guy so she replied and set up a meeting early the next morning. The last email was from Mrs. Devereux, asking if there was any new information. Tracy tried to keep her answer as vague as possible, in case her husband read the email. She said that some of her suspicions seemed valid but that she didn't have any solid proof yet. She added that she would let her know as soon as there were any major developments. Tracy pulled up the GPS tracker which showed her that Dennis' car hadn't moved since she had checked the previous day. I guess the Linwood incident gave him pause. Tracy figured that in order to catch Dennis, she would have to go undercover, so the rest of the day was spent creating a new online profile. She decided to make this one a 21-year-old foreign exchange student recently arrived from Turkmenistan. That'd be obscure enough that on-the-spot background questions would be easier to bluff her way through. Also, Tracy had a Russian translation program that should do a good job with the language. After doing a few searches for common Russian names, she settled on Ivana Kuznetsova, literally translating to Jane Smith. Tracy smiled a little at that. When she was finally done, the sun was setting and the temperature was finally dropping to a more comfortable level. Tracy shut down her laptop and stood. A thought bubbled to the surface of her mind: The memory of Kat walking naked and unashamed across the room in Jessie and Diego's living room. She had seemed really relaxed. I wonder... Tracy looked at the windows to make sure the blinds were closed. Then she undid the towel. It felt strange to be naked like this outside her bathroom or bedroom. Tracy walked across the office to her kitchen to throw the empty bottle in the recycling bin. It didn't really feel liberating or relaxed. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so self-conscious. Getting dressed, Tracy soon felt more comfortable. I guess I'm not moving to a weirdo, nudist, hippie commune any time soon. Knowing that she would have to stay close to Dennis' computer to keep an eye on his activity, Tracy realised she would need some supplies. Half an hour later, her van was fully stocked for an extended stakeout. A box of energy bars, half a dozen bottles of water, another half dozen bottles of Wrath, an industrial-strength energy drink, and a big bag of ice for the cooler. The only thing missing was her remote control rig. Hopefully she wouldn't need it. ~~~ The meeting next morning turned out to be a waste of time. It had taken Tracy less than ten minutes to find out that the client was a stalker with a restraining order. Tracy found it a little odd since Mike usually vetted his clients better than this. After leaving a message about it for Mike, Tracy left to do some stalking of her own. Tracy parked in the same alley as the last time and used a suction-cup mount to set up a small dish antenna on the roof of the car. Turning on the computer, she started looking through the numerous Wi-Fi-networks available. It didn't take long to find the one belonging to Smith & Smythe, and it took even less time to connect to it. They really should take their cyber security more seriously. Only minutes later, the blue dot representing Dennis' car moved in from the edge of the map. It pulled into the parking garage and stopped. Tracy kept an eye on the computers connected to the network and a little while later, his computer appeared on the list. She set up a terminal window to display the websites it connected to and sat back to wait. Now, let's see how careless you are. Several hours later, Tracy concluded that Dennis was indeed a very careful man. His computer hadn't visited anything even remotely suspicious. He had even worked through the lunch break. Tracy fumbled with the funnel as she squatted over a bottle in the back of the van. Sometimes she envied men. Peeing during stakeouts was a lot easier for them. She put the cap back on the bottle and pulled her pants back up. Then she opened the door and looked both ways before tossing the bottle into one of the containers along the wall. Based on the smell in the alley, she wasn't the first to relieve herself there, but she refused to pee out in the open. There were limits to what she was willing to do, even when on a stakeout. Dennis worked late and didn't shut down his computer until almost six o'clock. When he did, he went straight home, only stopping at a convenience store. The next days passed in the same way and Tracy found that her tolerance for boredom was nearing its limit. But at least she was getting a lot of practice with the funnel. She spent the days reading, only looking up every time her computer dinged to indicate that Dennis visited a new site. It was nearing the end of work on Friday afternoon, and Tracy was almost done with 'The Long Goodbye'. Her stomach rumbled and she looked at the remaining energy bars with loathing. She swore that once she was done with this job, she was not eating another one of those for a long time. Tracy was still debating whether to ignore the hunger or force down one more of the grainy abominations. Before she could make up her mind, however, her computer indicated that Dennis had disconnected from the network. Tracy got up and quickly took down the antenna from the roof before getting in behind the wheel and waiting for Dennis's car to start moving. It only took a few minutes before the blue dot moved out onto the street. Following at a safe distance, Tracy's heart jumped as Dennis took an unexpected turn, not heading home. "Finally," Tracy said to the GPS. "It certainly took you long enough." Dennis drove for a while longer before pulling in to the parking lot next to a nondescript brick building. Tracy knew exactly what kind of place this was. It was another place like the Linwood. The big difference was that she had been part of the team that had set up the security system there. Hopefully, the back door into their system would still work. While Dennis made his way inside, Tracy lay back in the beanbag and grabbed the keyboard. She plugged a thumb drive with her fake personal information into the slot and connected to the hotel's network. She didn't have to wait long before she saw Dennis' computer connect too. She even recognised the address he was going to. "Okay Dennis, let's see what you're hiding from your wife." Tracy reached for the fat spiral wire and plugged it into her skull. Then she copied the address and hit enter. There was the annoying tingle of an incoming signal and Tracy closed her eyes, letting her body grow heavy and numb. She found herself floating in a featureless darkness. No, not even floating; there was an absence of sensation so she wasn't really doing anything. The only sensory input was a slowly pulsing 'Connecting' in front of her. Then the darkness unfolded itself into what looked like a giant patchwork quilt. Two of patches said 'Log in' and 'New user' in softly glowing letters. Well, I'll give them points for retro chic. I haven't seen that kind of login page in ages. Tracy reached out and touched the 'New user'-button. It morphed into a form already filled out with the personal information of Ivana Kuznetsova. She noticed all options to display personal information were off by default. Discreet too. Nice touch. The payment options were next. It was either pay per hour or a monthly subscription. That was a no-brainer for Tracy who prepaid for an hour with the debit card she had attached to the profile. It took a second for the form to process the payment, but soon enough, an avatar builder appeared. These were standardised across most VR websites, so Tracy just opted to use the avatar she had already made and stored on the thumb drive and pressed the 'Enter site' button. It flashed red and made a buzzing sound, but nothing else happened. Then Tracy noticed an entry that hadn't been filled out, asking 'small' or 'large'. Going through this many servers is bound to slow things down. A low-poly avatar is probably faster. Tracy checked the 'small' box which promptly expanded into 'Option 1' and 'Option 2'. There was no explanation what the difference between the two were, but Tracy figured that the first option was the baseline experience. Since she just needed to gain access to the site to snoop around, she decided to go with that. Tracy started the tracking program in a small terminal window, and saw it was poised to leap into action as soon as she was inside. Then she pressed 'Enter site' again. This time the quilt leapt at her, enveloping her in a warm darkness. When the darkness lifted, Tracy found herself sitting on the floor in a bedroom. A very oversized bedroom. Looking down, she saw she was wearing just a t-shirt and a big, puffy diaper. "What the hell?!?"

Chapter 4: ---------- That monday I went by Cynthia's for actual homework. She needed help with maths and I needed some notes on geography, because the teacher of that class had us take personal notes, and as distracted as I had been, I hadn't done a very good job of that. "You've been hanging out with my daughter a lot lately," Cynthia's mom told me as she opened the door. "Yes, well, finals coming up and such," I replied in my defense. Would you tell your boyfriend's or girlfriend's parents what kind of kinky things you do with their child? It's not exactly a conversation either party wants to have. Nevertheless, her mom gave me a look that seemed to say that was a valid excuse. "You know where she is." I knocked on Cynthia's door before stepping into her room, not seeing her at her desk. "Cyn?" She closed the door behind me as soon as I was far enough into the room. "Hands on my bed, ass out." Almost without thinking I did as I was told. It didn't even occur to me that this was a punishment position, and even if I had realized, I am pretty sure I would still have done the same. I'd accepted that I was hers, so I did as she told me to do and if she was unhappy I would try to do better. When I was in position, she flipped my skirt up but left my underwear in place. A good thwack followed quickly. I wasn't ready for it, so my knees shook even as I tried to make them not do so. "You've been a naughty girl," Cynthia clarified, waiting for me to regain my composure. I was confused, naturally, because I hadn't been under the impression I had done anything wrong. Nevertheless I apologized, quietly, embarrassed. Another good thwack from her paddle shook my bottom. "Good, because I don't have enough time to properly punish you today." "What did I do wrong?" I had to ask. Many would not want to risk more punishment, but that was not my concern. I did not want to disappoint Cynthia again, and being punished for the same mistake again later would be far more embarrassing. "What did I tell you on friday?" Cynthia asked, in that way a mother would when she knew her daughter should know better. "I..." I hesitated, "I should be in diapers?" "Close," Cynthia offered, though there was still a hint of disappointment in her voice. I tried to go over the words in my memory, as far as I could conjure them up. "I need permission to use them?" I threw up in the air. "But I didn't use any diapers?" "Good girl," Cynthia said in conjunction with another thwack on my bottom. "However, my precise words were: 'your bladder is mine' and 'you need permission to go to the bathroom even if you're not in diapers'. And yet I've heard no pleas to go to the bathroom for the past three days." That hadn't really sunk in and quite frankly it seemed crazy. "But, I can't just wet my pants anywhere..." I pleaded. "Well, then you had best convince me to let you go to the bathroom in those situations," Cynthia whispered in my ear. Then another smack of the paddle. "But I'll give you this: if I don't give you a reply within ten minutes, you're allowed to go. To avoid unfortunate accidents." Another thwack and then I heard her put down the paddle. To be honest, I became quite turned on though that. Someone taking such tight control of me was a form of intimacy that many people simply don't experience. I had already surrendered, so I didn't need to again. I simply accepted that from then on, I needed to ask permission to go to the bathroom. "One more thing," Cynthia said, sitting down on her bed next to where I was still bent over it. Looking in my eyes, she continued: "Will you go to the graduation dance with me?" Now, you have to understand, I hadn't even considered that I was in a lesbian relationship until that moment. I liked Cynthia for her dominating personality and for her ability to take charge of me, and the fact that she was a girl was just a happy coincidence. However, actually going out with her, actually being seen with her would change a lot of things. Of course, a lot of things would be changing anyway, come graduation. There was too much chaos in my mind to give her an answer, so instead I asked: "will I need to wear diapers?" It took a good three seconds for Cynthia to register what I had said. "Tempting," she giggled, "but probably not. I do want to be able to dance with you." I gave her an immediate yes, after that. She sounded so genuine that I couldn't help but feel like she loved me. And like I said, I just couldn't disappoint her. Whether that was through kinkiness or through dancing didn't really matter. Any hesitation I had regarding what to tell my parents or my friends could not compete with how much I wanted to please her. She kissed me. Not lustfully, not passionately, not forcefully. Instead she was soft, tender, and graceful. For a second, I thought I even saw her eyes water, but that was gone in the blink of an eye. It was a long kiss but eventually she opted out. "You should stop showing off your pretty bottom so we can actually get some homework done." "It's not fair you got to see mine but I didn't get to see yours," I retorted playfully. "Tell you what, after we finish our homework, I'll let you bury your face in mine." I'm pretty sure my face turned a suitable hue of firered, while my sex was aching to show its pink inner bits. None of that helped us getting our tasks done but we managed anyway. And after? Well, I kissed Cynthia's ass a few times and then we made out. That night was wonderful, but the coming days and weeks turned more and more into a single busy haze. Study sessions to prepare for finals, make out sessions to unwind, followed by sleep and school and more sessions of both kinds. One night Cynthia asked: "when do you want to tell our parents, before or after graduation?" I honestly didn't know. I had no way to know what the better choice would be. If we told them first and they freaked, it might ruin the whole dance, but if we were nervous about telling our parents later we wouldn't really enjoy the dance either. "You know what, we need to tell them before," Cynthia decided, "I'll take care of our dresses and when we show them to our parents, we'll just tell them. Ok?" I nodded. There didn't seem to be another choice. I wasn't sure about the whole thing, but I didn't really have any ideas and Cynthia was, and still is, someone I was willing to depend on. Telling your parents you're a lesbian is weird and awkward, and only becomes more awkward when in hindsight it turns out not to be true. During finals I saw very little of Cynthia, let alone spend quality time with her.

Chapter 31: The Event Thief in Service - by LittleFallenPrincess Once we had finished lunch and shopping and all that, we headed back. I am ashamed to say it, but what Rachel said earlier didn’t click until we were back home, snuggled up again. “Alex...?” I asked her, my head lay on her lap, looking up at her. “Yes, babygirl?” “I...” “What is it, sweetpea?” “Rachel said... event? Next week?” “Did I not mention it? Oh I am sorry baby! I meant to... just with everything going on...” “It’s okay... what kind of event... is it like the one last time?” I asked, nervously. “Yes sweetpea, although this is just a kink event, not a birthday party or Halloween party. So entirely like the second half of your evening.” “So...” “So what, my love?” I loved how soft she was with me now, it was like she was an entirely different person... but still her. Like I had progressed enough with her loyalty quests to unlock the next stage of our relationship. But watching her with Rachel at the cafe, I knew, at any moment, she could be the big bad domme I fell for at the beginning. ...Which just excited me more. “So... what... umm... am I invited?” I asked. “Of course sweetie. I was going to ask you, before I completely forgot about it all that is. If you didn’t want to come, that’s okay too. Do you?” “I... umm... would I have to be a statue in the middle of the room again?” Whilst I enjoyed that role last time... seeing the hurt on Alex’s face, the jealously I felt seeing other subs get to play with her... I wanted to do more this time. “Only if you want to, sweetpea. But I’ll decide what role you’ll take closer to the event, don’t you worry...” She grinned at me. ------------------------------------------------- The next week flew by. Our relationship blossomed and flourished now that neither of us had to hide our feelings... our pasts. I can’t think of a moment where we spent more than thirty minutes apart. We slept together (though we still hadn’t had sex yet), we showered together, we ate together, we snuggled up and watched movies together. To be completely honest... I don’t know why I even have that apartment in the building, I never used it this past week and if things keep going as well as they have been... I doubt I’ll need it at all soon. But the whole week, I was in heaven. Never had I felt this strongly for another person before. I hated the clichés of not being complete without a partner... but with her... it felt real. Like I genuinely was complete. Towards the end of the week, however, Alex’s domme side started returning. Telling me to lie across the bottom of the bed instead of with her... Ordering me around... choosing my outfits... making me wear the maid dress for more than just work... She was definitely preparing herself for the event. Not that I’m complaining, I loved it every time she ordered me about. I loved being little for her, but I also equally loved being her submissive. So both sides of me got satisfied leading up to the event. And on the day of the event, I saw the latex outfit I had been put in for her last event hung up in my wardrobe, whereas usually it was stored away. “Umm...” “What is it, my love?” Alex asked. “The latex doll...” “Oh I see you spotted it. That’s to be your outfit for the event tonight...” I squirmed a little on the spot. Every inch of me wanted to pounce on her like a ravenous lioness in heat... but I kept it together and let out a small moan instead. “I... so am... umm...” “Don’t worry, you’re not going to be put up for display again. You’re going to be by my side the whole time. I want to show you off as mine, as much as possible...” She gave me a lustful look, making me squirm even more. I also blushed a little. No one had ever been this proud of me... this proud of having me in their life that they wanted to show me off. I’ve dated people before, but I was never ‘Meet the parents’ material. I was the dirty little secret they liked to fuck in private. Alex though... she was going to dress me up and show me off to all of those who she trusted most. Well those, and also those ungrateful little shits who bad mouthed her at the last event. Shame I didn’t get to see their faces, I would have told Alex about them. If I told her now... she’d just be distrustful of everyone and I’d ruin everything, so I kept that to myself. ------------------------------------------------- It was time. I had helped Alex set up the play space in the huge room on the second floor. I had helped her with her beautiful floor-length blue dress. She had assisted me in putting the latex suit on. And I had forgotten how good it felt. Hugging every inch of skin, every curve... I had to stop myself on multiple occasions, when the need to beg Alex to fuck me got too much. Because I knew the response if I did. She’d deny me... she’d tease me more and make me a mess throughout the whole party. And whilst sure, a large part of me loved the idea of that... this was my first kink event that I was willingly participating in. I didn’t want to mess anything up or make Alex look bad in front of her guests. So I restrained myself and reminded myself that she’d probably take care of me after the event... or during if I’m lucky. What I wasn’t expecting, however... was the nappy she had put me in right before putting the latex suit on me. I whined and complained about not needing it, but she told me it was going to be a long event and she didn’t want to have to take this off me. So the nappy was put on and I stopped complaining. I did ask what to do in the case of needing... you know... that thing we hadn’t done yet. The thing I had seen people online enjoy... the thing that isn’t wetting... All she said was that if that was needed, then I can safe word and she’d take me to a bathroom. That she’d only do that kind of thing when I’m ready. So here I am, stood on the shop floor at the entrance, ready to greet guests as they entered, wearing a relatively thin nappy under this latex suit that covered every inch of skin from my neck to my feet, leaving only my head uncovered. My hair had been washed and brushed by Alex, so it looked perfect. The blinds were down, meaning no one could see inside thankfully, but even so... my heart was racing. Why was I so anxious? I had done this before. Just because this time I’m here as Alex’s girlfriend and submissive shouldn’t mean I’m even more anxious than the last time I was here. But still... somehow... I was. And as we heard the first knock on the door... Alex held my head and kissed my cheek. “It’ll be okay, my little dolly. I’ll be here the entire time, okay?” I smiled and nodded, a warmth filling my heart, knowing she would protect me, no matter what happens. The first guests were invited in, a lovely young couple. I forgot their names within a second of Alex introducing us, I was still too embarrassed to be stood there as a latex doll, but they seemed friendly at least. For the next twenty minutes, guests poured through the front door, and as each one was introduced to me, I was still too nervous to remember their names or their faces. The only ones I did recognise were John and Rachel. They both gave me a hug, which made me feel a bit more at ease. I suppose it didn’t help that I was currently the only one wearing anything remotely kinky, although I did notice a few discreet collars on a few of the men and women who walked in. “They’ll change upstairs sweetpea. They can’t exactly go around wearing their event outfits outside, can they?” “Hey, I did! You made me walk home in a maid uniform AND then in this latex suit!” “Yes... but that was cute.” She grinned at me. I pouted at Alex as she locked up the front door and spun me around to face the stairs. “Let’s go get this party started shall we...?” She said, pushing me gently forwards. ------------------------------------------------- Alex had given people time to get changed into their not-so-suitable-for-public outfits before we entered. And so when we both walked in, her pushing me from behind slowly... I was greeted by a sight I never thought I’d see. “Good evening Ladies, Gentlemen and all of those who do not fit within the binary. It’s been a few weeks since our last event, and my, what an event that was! I’m glad to see a host of familiar faces, as well as some new ones that came highly recommended by some of my dear friends. Now, the rules are simple. Have fun, consensual fun, no hard limits broken, no means no. No messing, no blood, all those usual ones. Please clean up after yourselves and make sure to wipe every surface after you’re done. If you’d like to use a room upstairs, please ask permission from myself, although I hate to inform the few littles here, the nursery is off limits.” I looked up at her, confused. Bending over, she whispered in my ear. “Because that’s your nursery now, sweetpea...” I blushed, completely frozen in front of this large group of thirty or so guests, all dressed in various kinky outfits. Some people were obviously littles, their nappies and youthful attire making it clear they were ageplayers. Some pups sat patiently, some subs sat by their master’s feet. One other person was wearing latex, which made me feel a little bit more at ease. It was honestly amazing that so many different kinks could all play together. For the first time, I felt like I was actually part of a community. “Now... as many of you may have realised... we have a returning face from last time. Everyone, this is Paige. She is my submissive. She is my babygirl. She is my... girlfriend.” That weird, happy, squirmy feeling in my tummy quickly returned as she spoke about me in this way. “As many of you know from last time... Paige was our little centrepiece, after being caught trying to take something she shouldn’t have. All is in the past now though, and yes, many of you may be shocked, but I am in a relationship with her. If you’ve got an issue with her, or with our relationship, the door is over there. You may leave at any time.” I nudged myself closer to her so I was leaning against her. She looked down at me. “Sweetie? I need to ask before we play... I know everyone else’s limits on what others can do to them, they all do... but what are your rules for what others can do to you?” “Umm... I don’t know... umm... maybe?” I loved the idea of being the centre of attention by all these people. I loved the idea of being used and humiliated and... oh my god what have I become? As my mind drifted off, Alex looked back up at the waiting crowd. “Right, as for rules regarding playing with Paige here... take it slow. It’s her first time.” I mouthed ‘Thank you’ to her, and she just nodded and smiled. I knew I was in good hands. “Now... I’ve had enough of your time, go and have fun!” Everyone cheered and walked off to different parts of the large room. There was a little playpen set up in the corner of the room, something that Alex must have done after she told me I was finished with helping her earlier today. The spanking benches I helped bring down were in one corner of the room, along with a few other bits of furniture from the dungeon room. Cushions had been set up for the pets, as well as a good number of seats for people to just sit and chat. And as I watched everyone start to relieve themselves of their fake public personas... the masks they wore to hide the real them from the rest of the world, I couldn’t help but feel like I was finally with... people like me. The warm feeling in my tummy eased my nerves a bit. “Let’s go mingle, sweetpea... come along...” Alex’s domme voice came out and I snapped back to reality, walking along behind her as we went to play. ========================================================== Well you wondered if they'd run into any other people from the event. Well here's everyone! ?? I hope everyone enjoys this story as it goes on! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! Thank you to all my patrons for their support! Don't forget, the next 4 chapters are available on my Patreon, which can be found here if you go for the second tier. You get 4 chapters early access to chapters of Thief in Service. New chapters of Thief in Service every Monday/Wednesday/Friday! Also just a quick note: I don't mind people saving this story for personal reading. But I'd appreciate it if people didn't post it elsewhere, even if you're just suggesting it to other people. If you want to show others, please send them a link to the first page of this post! Thanks! ?