Leaderboard

Chapter 19: Not the Same as Me Note: In this chapter, a character uses offensive language about a person with disabilities. This is not an endorsement of that behavior. I shivered as I held the ice pack against my forehead, but I had no one to blame but myself for the situation I found myself in on Saturday morning. This morning, I had again kept up the pretense that the bedwetting pills had given me some annoying headaches. I had gotten out of bed just in time to snag the last of the pancakes that Dad had made for breakfast. From the look on Mom’s face as I entered the kitchen, it was clear that she had already noticed the sheets I had tossed into the washing machine last night. But with Jackson in the room, there wasn’t an opportunity to have a conversation about bedwetting again. I groaned and rubbed my forehead frequently while eating my breakfast. It must have been a stellar acting job because no sooner had I finished breakfast than Dad had come up to me with an ice pack in hand. The good thing was that my parents believed me. The bad thing was that they believed me and had offered me an ice pack to help dull the pain. I had no choice but to accept it, so now I was lying on my back on the couch, painfully watching the seconds pass by. I trembled a little as another shiver ran all the way through my body. A little bit longer, and perhaps I could pretend that I was cured for the time being. Mom had promised to not make me take the pills for more than a few more nights if they continued to prove ineffective. I was going to hold her to it. I didn’t want to have to keep faking a headache every morning. It wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as faking the bedwetting. My phone buzzed. With one hand still holding the ice pack to my forehead, I checked my most recent message. It was from Angie, who was bored out of her mind on the road trip her family was taking out to South Dakota. This morning, her family was at Mouth Rushmore, and she’d taken a selfie to share with Emma and me. I really hoped the vacation my parents had planned for later in the summer was going to have better destinations than that. “Since you’re not feeling well, I moved your sheets over to the dryer,” Mom said as she stepped into the living room. I groaned, this time from the fact that my bedwetting wasn’t exactly being treated like a secret rather than from faking a headache. With Grace fully aware of it, Mom and Dad weren’t showing any reservations about bringing up that topic with me while she was around. “Is your headache still pretty bad?” Mom asked. “Perhaps you should stay home today to rest up rather than going over to Emma’s place?” There was no way I was going to be spending the first day of summer stuck at home. Even with Angie gone, I still had plans to bike across the neighborhood to hang out with Emma for the afternoon. “I’m sure I’ll be feeling better by then,” I insisted. “I think the ice pack is really helping.” “We’ll see how you’re feeling later,” Mom conceded. “I can always drive you over instead.” I re-adjusted the ice pack on my forehead, trying to find a way to hold it in place that wasn’t so cold. All of us were in the living room except Jackson, who was playing with Legos in his bedroom. For the sake of all our feet, those evil bricks were now banned from being anywhere else in the house. After a few more minutes had passed, I set the ice pack down. Hopefully, that recovery time from the headache wasn’t too unbelievable. “There was something else your mom and I were wanting to talk to you girls about.” I looked over at my sister before looking up at Dad. Grace appeared just as confused about what this could mean as me. “Maddy,” Dad said. “Since you are going to be turning thirteen in a week, we’ve decided that you’re going to be able to stay home by yourself this summer.” “Oh, thank goodness,” Grace said. I glared at my sister. “No need to act that excited about it.” I did see where Grace was coming from, though. Having to be home with me had limited some of her opportunities for work and hanging out with her friends during previous summers. “Hey,” Grace said. “I’ve been asking Mom and Dad to let you do it for a while now.” “It’s a lot of responsibility,” Mom said. “And you need to understand that this is a privilege that can be taken away if you aren’t careful with it. There are some rules you need to follow. It’s similar to the rules we had for your sister when she was your age. No having any friends over while we are gone. No using the stove or the oven….” A picture of what those days at home might look like this summer came into focus in my head as Mom continued to go over all the things I’d need to do to be allowed to stay in the house by myself. I had already thought this summer was going to be the best one ever, but this, having the whole house to myself? The implications became immediately clear. With the whole house to myself, I would have so much more freedom to experiment with peeing my pants. What should I try first? I wanted to hold my bladder to the point of bursting before I let it out. I wanted to see what it would be like to wet my pants while sitting down. Maybe I could try peeing myself with different outfits on. “Maddy, Maddy.” Someone was snapping their fingers and saying my name. I blinked rapidly and returned my gaze back to Mom. “Madelyn,” Mom said, “We want to give you more responsibilities, but you need to pay attention.” “Sorry,” I said. I found myself beginning to subconsciously pick on my fingernails. I hoped that my sudden daydreaming hadn’t ruined this new opportunity before it had already begun. Grace laughed. “I bet she was thinking about how to sneak in a boyfriend while I’m gone.” “Eww,” I said. “No. Gross.” “Your sister is right, though,” Dad said. “No friends over when you’re by yourself means no boyfriends as well.” “Or girlfriends,” Mom said. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have either of those.” “What, you want to grow up to be a crazy cat lady?” Grace asked. I looked over at Chester, who was napping in a sunspot on the carpet in front of the window. “That doesn’t seem like a bad idea.” <><><> I sat on my bed with the fourth Harry Potter book in my hands. I wasn’t as big a fan of the Triwizard Tournament story arc, but I always found the Quidditch World Cup to be fascinating. It would be enough just to have the opportunity to go to a soccer World Cup at some point. If only I could convince my parents to get tickets when the U.S. hosted it in several years. I had already breezed through the previous book earlier this morning after having finally discarded the ice pack. Once the conversation about being allowed to stay home alone this summer had ended, I had retreated up to my bedroom to read. It was too noisy downstairs to concentrate. My eyes flickered back and forth rapidly across the pages. My teachers always told me I read too fast. I didn’t see how that was supposed to be a bad thing. “Maddy. Maddy. Maddy!” My head snapped up as I finally caught wind that someone was calling my name. Mom was standing a few feet away, looking down at me. I hadn’t even heard her knock or open my bedroom door, which should have been enough to get my attention. “Can’t you pick out something else to read?” Mom asked as she looked down at the book in my hands. “There are plenty of other books to choose from in the basement.” That was another reason I had gone off to my bedroom to read. The Harry Potter series was pretty much the only books I’d read over the past two years outside of anything that had been required for school assignments. I hadn’t counted how many times I’d gone through the series, but it had to be a lot. Sometimes, I’d read through the books in order, but other times, I’d jump around to different ones depending on which one I felt like reading at the moment. My parents didn’t have anything against the Harry Potter books. They just were overly insistent that I try to expand my reading interests. None of the other series they’d thrown my way had caught my imagination in the same way, so I usually conducted my Harry Potter reading out of sight as to avoid any criticism. My parents had never explicitly banned me from reading them, but they had very much pressured me to not read them so often. “Your sheets are dry now,” Mom said. “Can you please go grab them from the laundry room? And make sure to fold them neatly and put them back in the closet. I don’t want to come back up and see them tossed in a pile in the corner.” “Can I at least finish this chapter?” “Right away, please,” Mom said. “It’s almost time for lunch.” “Can I at least not take those pills again tonight?” “Let’s just try it for two more nights,” Mom said. “That way, if it hasn’t worked by the time we take you to the doctor, then we can talk with them about what to do next.” I suppressed a sigh as I got off of the bed and headed toward the hallway. “And while you’re down there, don’t forget to clean the litter box,” Mom said, calling out after me as I reached the stairs. “You know you’re supposed to do that in the morning before going off to play.” “Stupid chores,” I muttered to myself. I let my feet fall just a little harder on the stairs as I trudged down the steps on the way to the main floor. We had sadly eaten all the pizza last night, which meant no leftovers for lunch. Instead, Dad was busy in the kitchen, with multiple pots and pans set out on the stovetop. I tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone as I made my way back upstairs with a bundle of laundry in my arms, enduring the walk of shame in silence as I carried the evidence of my presumed bedwetting back up to my bedroom. <><><> “I’ve got good news and bad news,” Emma said as she opened the front door to let me into her house. I had biked over to Emma’s house after lunch, though it had taken some work to convince Mom that my fake headaches had cleared up enough for me to leave the house after all. But she had still made me take a couple of Tylenol pills before I left. Even though Emma’s house was on the opposite side of the neighborhood, it was an easy trek, one that I had made countless times before. “What is it?” I asked. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” I thought about that for a second. “Good news.” “The good news is I’m still free to go to the park.” That didn’t make much sense to me. Why would Emma not have been able to go to the park near her house, where we often hung out during the summer? “What’s the bad news?” Emma raised her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Her.” I took another step into the house and looked over Emma’s shoulder. The girl in the distance bore a slight resemblance to Emma, enough so that I had to guess that they were related in some way. They both had curly brown hair, though the girl's hair was done up in braided pigtails while Emma had left her shoulder-length hair unbraided. But it was how they were dressed that differentiated them. Like me, Emma was wearing soccer shorts and a T-shirt. The girl was wearing long pink and white striped socks that came up to her knees. She had on a plaited, muted-pink skirt and a white shirt with a Hufflepuff emblem in the middle. There was a pink watch on her left hand and a half-dozen colorful bracelets in different styles on her right hand. But what stood out most was the set of earmuffs she was wearing. I settled for that word rather than headphones, because something just looked off about them. The girl hadn’t turned in our way yet. She was facing the other direction, staring off into space. I lowered my voice so the girl wouldn’t hear me. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, despite whatever misgivings Emma seemed to have. “Why is she bad news?” “She’s my cousin, Hannah. Her family has been staying with us for the weekend. She is bad news because I accidentally let her overhear that I was going to go to the park with you, and now she wants to come as well. She threw a tantrum when I told her she couldn’t, and then my mom said I had to let her tag along.” I looked over again at Emma’s cousin before turning back to face Emma. Setting aside the fact that a girl our age throwing a tantrum was a bit strange, I still didn’t get why Emma was concerned. “So?” Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Hannah ran over to greet me before Emma had a chance to say anything further. Emma grimaced as Hannah stood next to her. “Hi!” Hannah said, waving her hand at me. “Um, hi,” I said in return. I noticed that Hannah was looking down at my waist rather than up at my face. “OK,” Emma said after the long silence that followed that awkward introduction. “Hannah, this is my friend Maddy. Maddy, this is my cousin Hannah.” “What happened to your fingernails?” Hannah blurted out. “They look all chewed up.” Were my nails that bad? I hastily pulled my hands up in front of my face. I did have a habit of picking on them absentmindedly, but it was embarrassing to have a stranger call it out so bluntly. “I paint mine so I don’t bite on them,” Hannah said. She thrust her hands out in front of me, showing off nails painted in yellow and black. “I did them in Hufflepuff colors. Have you ever read-” Buzz. Buzz. The screen on a bright pink watch Hannah was wearing around her wrist went off. She paused what she was saying mid-sentence and dashed off around the corner. “Whatever you do, don’t mention that you like Harry Potter,” Emma said as soon as Hannah was out of sight. “Why? I like Harry Potter.” “I’ve had to listen to her yack about it for the past two days non-stop. It’s so annoying. She’s even more of a chatterbox than you. Can’t get her to stop for nothing, so don’t you dare get her started on it again.” “And she can hear us fine with those earmuffs?” “Yeah, as long as you aren’t whispering,” Emma said. “They’re supposed to reduce noise or something since she’s supposedly sensitive to loud sounds.” “What’s the deal with her watch?” “It’s to help remind her to go use the toilet.” “But, like, why would she need to be reminded to do that?” Emma rubbed her face with her hand. “Yeah, I should have warned you. She has autism. She acts like a toddler more than a teenager a lot of the time. You have no idea what I’ve had to deal with since she got here two days ago. I was hoping to get away from that weirdo for the afternoon, but now I’m stuck with her.” I thought through all the details of my brief interaction with Hannah so far. That made sense. Something had felt obviously off about her. “I suppose she is a bit different.” “Oh, that’s not even the worst of it,” Emma said. “She still pees the bed every night. Can you believe that? She’s already thirteen, and her mom has to help her put on a diaper before tucking her into her sleeping bag. And, of course, she has to be sleeping on the floor in my room. I’ve been using a scented odor spray, but my bedroom still smells like piss.” I prayed fervently that I could keep a poker face and not give any hint of what I was thinking. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t aware of the fact that my friends had a poor view of kids our age who wet the bed. In the three years since I had learned about two of my own cousins being bedwetters, I hadn’t ever come across another kid who was a bedwetter. I had practically a million questions, not that I could ask Emma any of them directly. “She really, like, pees in a diaper? That’s so gross,” I said. That only encouraged Emma to continue her rant about her cousin. “Honestly, her parents should probably just make her wear diapers during the day. She pissed herself all over the couch last night when we were watching a movie. It was so gross. She didn’t even really seem to notice. Just sat there with her soaked clothes until my aunt said something about it.” I fidgeted and began picking at my nails again, even though there was hardly much left on the ends of my fingers. Like Hannah, I had also been wetting the bed and peeing my pants during the day. But I was different. I wasn’t some weirdo like her. I had full control over what I was doing. I just did it because it felt good. It wasn’t anything like Hannah did, basically behaving like a toddler who wasn’t fully toilet trained. Hannah came sprinting back around the corner with a smile on her face, nearly running into me as her feet slid on the wood floor. “Are we going to the park now?” she asked Emma. “Yes, we’re going to the park,” Emma said curtly. “Go get your shoes on.” Hannah walked over to the doorway and grabbed a pair of white and teal shoes off of the shoe rack. I noticed that instead of laces, they had Velcro straps. Emma leaned in toward my ear and whispered to me. “I know right, she wears those cause she can’t even tie her shoes properly.” We waited for Hannah to finish getting her shoes on and then followed her out the door. “Aren’t you going to grab your bike from the garage?” I asked Emma once we were in the driveway. “We’re going to walk since there isn’t a bike for Hannah, at least not one with training wheels,” Emma said. Hannah appeared oblivious to our conversation. I was wondering exactly how well those noise-reducing earmuffs worked. She was sitting on her knees in the grass next to the driveway, plucking dandelions. The weeds were still bright yellow, not close to the point where their seeds would be ready to blow away. The park, situated near the center of the neighborhood, was only a couple of blocks down. It was a massive complex. There was a large playground, a splash pad, a sand volleyball court, a couple of baseball diamonds, and, of course, some soccer fields. It would have been nicer to bike over to it, but walking along the sidewalk wasn’t that bad. This part of the neighborhood was fairly quiet, without much through traffic. Emma and I both had our soccer cleats and a soccer ball tucked inside matching drawstring bags on our backs. Emma shifted over to the left side of me, leaving me between her and her cousin. As we walked down the sidewalk, there was a sound coming from Hannah’s direction that brought back an old memory. Could that faint rustling sound be what I thought it was? I didn’t have long to consider it. When the park came into view after turning around the corner, Hannah darted out ahead of us, skipping energetically down the sidewalk with her arms swaying awkwardly out by her sides. Emma put both her hands on her face. “She’s such a fucking retard.” I bit my lip and stared down at my feet as I continued to walk alongside Emma. There had been one time five or six years back when Grace has used that word at me during an argument we had been having. The details of what had led up to that confrontation had been long forgotten, but the aftermath of it was still stuck in my mind. My parents had always been fully opposed to corporal punishment. They’d never once laid a hand on my bottom. As far as I was aware, that was the only time Grace had ever been given a spanking. Her face had been puffy, red, and wet with tears when my parents brought her back to apologize to me afterward. I still remembered how Grace had squirmed uncomfortably on the couch that evening. The message had been crystal clear. And that word had never been heard again in our house. I wouldn’t have ever considered using that word against someone else, no matter how angry I was or what I thought of them. Even years later, when I first discovered a word that rhymes with duck, the only thing my dad had told me was that unless I had just whacked my finger with a hammer or stubbed my toe, that I shouldn’t be using that type of language. As uncomfortable as I was with what Emma had just said, I found myself agreeing with the overall sentiment. I felt uncomfortable around Hannah in a way that I hadn’t felt about anyone else before. I cringed as I watched her prance around in the playground in a way more reminiscent of girls my brother’s age. Something about her rubbed me the wrong way, like a piece of chalk being slowly dragged across a blackboard. “How long is her family staying?” I asked. “Just through the weekend, but it might end up being forever. They are looking for a house in the area. There apparently is a school around here that her parents want to send her to, you know, one for special kids like her,” Emma said, making air quotes around the word “special” with her hands. “Emma, can you push me?” Hannah yelled in the distance. We looked over at the playground. Hannah was sitting stationary on a swing. Emma sighed again. “Better go do it. I’ll hear it from Mom if she finds out that Hannah didn’t have a good time at the park.” I followed Emma over to the swing set, watching as she stepped behind her cousin and took hold of the swing, pulling it back as far as she could before running forward and giving it a big push. Emma sprinted underneath Hannah as she flew in the air and then came to stand next to me. There wasn’t any mistaking it as Hannah flew up on the swing. The wind caught hold of her skirt and lifted it up, revealing that Hannah wasn’t wearing ordinary underwear. My suspicions about the sound I’d heard on our walk over to the park were confirmed. There was a short flash of pastel colors on a material far bulkier than normal underwear. I waited with bated breath as Hannah swung backward and then came up toward me again. This time, my eyes were locked in. When her skirt lifted up in the air again, I caught sight of a pattern I had only previously seen in magazine ads. What Hannah had on beneath her skirt was nothing other than the pull-ups I was so badly wanting for myself. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

You people are all horrible. She has something she believes in and stands up for it. You question her motives, and you are suggesting murder. The media made her the icon she is. There are hundreds and thousands of climate activists but none of them will get any press if she shows up.

This chapter is mostly just backstory for Elizabeth and some Bethany, a bit on some other characters. Not entirely critical to read aside from the last couple of paragraphs that will lead into chapter 24. Up to you, took awhile to figure out what I wanted the Merlot family backstory to be but there isn’t a lot going on in this chapter. Chapter 23 Elizabeth sat at the small coffee table in the middle of the living room. She was busy colouring in a picture of a rainbow arching over a unicorn, across the table was her Little sister Anise who was sitting quietly and watching TV. She was technically Elizabeth’s older sister in terms of real age and time with her mother after being adopted but Anise would always remain her little sister. She was cute and kind to Elizabeth and Elizabeth loved to watch her sky blue ringlets bounce around on her shoulders and cascade onto her cute pink onesie. Elizabeth had never really been given the details of Anise aside from what her older half-sister had told her, that Anise was special and that Elizabeth should always strive to protect the smaller and weaker girl. The tv was quietly playing some cartoon that held no real interest for Elizabeth but Anise seemed to like watching the pink and yellow costumed dinosaur dance around the screen and attempt to teach littles the alphabet and numbers. Elizabeth liked colouring and despite having not yet gotten one of her colouring pages tacked to the fridge by her mother, she was sure this one would do the trick and get one of Anise’s sloppy drawings taken down. She dutifully stayed within the lines and made sure to follow ROYGBIV for the rainbows so that the colours were in the correct order. There was a little whimper from Anise and Elizabeth watched as the girl lifted herself off of the floor on her knees slightly and gave a soft grunt before sitting back down after a few minutes. The smell carried over to Elizabeth after a few minutes and she set her crayon down before standing to retrieve a fresh diaper for the girl. She knew better than to disturb her mother while she worked in the study. She went through the motions of changing her little sister. At just five years old she was already bigger than her adopted sister, not much, but Anise was already looking up to her. She distinctly remembered the feelings of jealousy of Anise’s carefree life. At just 5 years old she didn’t know how to process that particular emotion but it was there. Elizabeth had been potty trained before two years old, her mother telling her she didn’t want to be like Anise in diapers. She didn’t know why, Anise never had to stop playing to go to the potty and someone else always cared for her. But Elizabeth was what her mother called an Amazon which put her in a different category of life. She wasn’t a little like Anise which meant she couldn’t be expected to live a carefree life like her and she would have to learn quickly to keep up in the world. Those were the lessons her mother taught her and hammered into her and seemed to be the only time that Elizabeth had her mother’s undivided attention. She went back to her drawing and added some final touches, scribbling her name in the bottom corner before standing and heading to the office. She gently knocked on the door and heard her mother from the other side allow her in. Elizabeth turned the knob above her head and entered. She was on the phone and furiously typing on the computer without looking at Elizabeth. She paced over next to her mother’s desk with drawing behind her back and waited for her mother’s attention and permission to speak. Her mother cursed at whoever was on the phone and slammed it onto the desk before turning to Elizabeth with a very sharp “what.” Elizabeth cast her eye to the floor and quietly breathed out “Anise made a messy diaper and I changed her.” Elizabeth wasn’t expecting any praise but it would have been nice however all she got was “you're a good older sister, anything else?” Elizabeth’s hands scrunched the colouring paper and she shook her head no and turned to leave before the tears in her eyes could fall. She looked back from the door to her mother to see she was already back to the computer. She sprinted out the door slamming it behind her and darted upstairs to her room. She dove into the bed and cried into her stuffed animal. She had dropped the drawing on her way up the stairs, she didn’t want it. A few minutes later, Anise came crawling in quietly. She had the corner of the drawing pinched in her lips so she could use her hands and sidled up next to Elizabeth’s bed. She stood on her knees then used her arms to pull herself up the side of the bed then hooked a leg on the frame to push herself up next to Elizabeth. She cuddled up next to her as she calmed down and took the drawing from her mouth. “Big sis Lizzie?” She asked quietly with her cute little lisp. “Can I pwease haf vis? iss sooo pwetty.” She asked bashfully. Elizabeth nodded her approval quietly and turned to face Anise and pull her into a hug. She got down from the bed after her tears had dried and the swollen eyes and sniffling had calmed and Anise led the way to her room where Elizabeth tacked the drawing on the wall next to Anise’s crib. Anise sat and stared at if for quite some time and thanked Elizabeth for it. Time flashed forward several years into the future to when Elizabeth was nine. Elizabeth was coming home from school and walking up the driveway from the bus drop off. She was one of the few who actually rode the bus, most of her peers at her private all girls school were picked up by their parents or Nannies in their family’s luxury cars. Her mother only picked her up or dropped her off on the first and last day of the school year but that changed this year when her mother had taken on a nanny for Anise and she no longer even had the first and last day of rides. She had already surpassed Anise in size by a head in height and was much more mature. The nanny, Bridget, her mother had hired to look after Anise while she was at school greeted her at the door with the little on her hip after her trek. Anise had puffy red eyes, clearly she had just been crying and she buried her face in the nanny’s chest to avoid Elizabeth’s gaze. Elizabeth figured that Anise must have done something naughty to earn a spanking. Elizabeth hadn’t had a spanking in years and didn’t know how Anise still hadn’t learned what earned her punishments. Elizabeth went straight up to her room to start her homework after a one word greeting to Bridget and Anise. She spent hours on all of the accelerated programs her mother had made her take, it didn’t ever seem like there was an end. She could hear Anise down in the living room giggling up a storm to what sounded like raspberries being blown into her tummy shortly after her mother had come home from work. She didn’t have any memories of her mother doing that with her when she was little. And there was that feeling of jealousy again, she was able to process it now. Why did she have to slave away in her room over stuff that she’d probably never use. She wasn’t talented like her older brother and sister, in fact Betty had deployed for her mandatory military service and her grades and skills put her three ranks ahead out the gate. She always seemed to have to put in twice the effort as her older blood siblings for half the gain. She didn’t know the last time she had seen her own mother at one of her ballet recitals or school events, Bridget had also stepped in recently for a parent teacher conference. There was pain in her chest and she saw a few tears land on her textbook. There was a soft knock at the door and she quickly wiped the tears away before the nanny opened the door and let herself in. It was irregular for the nanny to come by her room but she was carrying a plate of food. It was passed onto the desk next to Elizabeth who looked over the spaghetti before the nanny spoke. “Miss Merlot has stepped out with Anise to attend a beauty pageant.” The pain in Elizabeth’s chest flooded up to her eyes and no amount of sniffling could hold the tears back. The nanny quickly paced over to Elizabeth and gently rubbed her back but seeing no effect, lifted Elizabeth into her arms and held her head in her chest while she shushed and bounced the seemingly inconsolable girl. Elizabeth wailed her eyes out as her screams of dissatisfaction echoed through the empty house. The nanny moved out of her room and slowly walked down the hallway to Anise’s nursery and laid the girl, who had managed to get the tears under control, down on a squishy surface. Her school skirt and bloomers were pulled away and a moment later she felt something soft slide under her bum. Her vision was blurry and her nose was plugged up from crying but a moment later she felt her legs spread as something was pulled between them and pinned against her stomach before feeling it pulled tight. The nanny undid the buttons of her shirt and pulled it away before something else was pulled over her head and pulled tight and snapped between her legs. Elizabeth rubbed her eyes to clear them and looked down. She was in a diaper and a onesie. Bridget picked her up again and held her. “I know you’re a bit jealous of Anise and the treatment she gets and this is the only way I know to help or include you. Your mother may not approve but I think you grew up a bit too fast and just need a bit of a breather from all of this adult stuff.” Bridget loosely explained. Elizabeth was carried back to her room and tucked into bed before Bridget pushed a pacifier into her mouth and kissed her forehead. Bridget left the room and flicked off the light with a sweet goodnight. It was the first time Elizabeth felt noticed in a long, long time. Her hands explored the onesie and plastic surface of the diaper. It wasn’t a bad feeling, it felt cosy and reassuring. She was out like a light in minutes, the worries of homework and school could be dealt with the next day. She woke up the next morning the most rested she had ever felt but in her regular pyjamas. She thought it was just a dream until she found a simple note from Bridget that read “I hope you’re feeling better.” Bridget would occasionally give her this treatment when they had a night alone for the next year until Bridget was thrown out by Miss Merlot with no explanation. Elizabeth felt like it was her fault, that maybe her mother had caught on to her rare ‘baby nights.’ Bridget was replaced by a strict and harsh nanny that paddled Elizabeth purple when she found a diaper tucked in the depths of her nightstand that she had taken from Anise’s room and berated her that diapers were not for Amazon girls her age. She and Anise were both worse off as even the tiniest infraction resulted in a spanking, or corner time, or any other punishment the nanny could come up with. Her mother was busy in the office or at work a majority of the time and didn’t really have any inputs on the new nanny’s methods. Elizabeth closed herself off until she was of an age where she could look after herself and be more independent from the new nanny that only spent minimal amounts of time with her to begin with. After Elizabeth had joined the nanny industry she hunted down Bridget to catch up but mostly to get an explanation. She hadn’t found Bridget until a month before her visit to see Bethany. Bridget was still a Nanny and had moved on to a wealthy Amazon family with a gaggle of five littles in their care. Elizabeth felt tears in her eyes as Bridget explained the circumstances of her dismissal. In short she had asked, even begged, Miss Merlot to take a more involved role in Elizabeth’s life which she didn’t take well. She was dismissed for telling her employer how to parent. Anise had been crying that day because she felt bad for Elizabeth and wanted Bridget to help Elizabeth open up a little and enjoy her childhood more than just endless homework and avoiding Anise. She wanted a sister to play with and be a part of her life. Elizabeth had fond memories of the ‘baby nights’ but had packed them within herself to the deepest parts of her psyche. She felt terrible for resenting Anise for all of these years but the resentment of little’s wouldn’t be washed away so easily which is why she had begun a cruel streak as a nanny when she started. Her time with the cruel nanny post-Bridget had left a lasting impression on her for how littles should be treated and she felt bad for thinking all littles were just dumb babies. Anise was a sharp cooks and Elizabeth had a flood of realisations that Anise did her best within her bounds and capacity to include Elizabeth. The next flash was of her older sister coming home on leave from the military. Bethany was in her dress uniform, an all black skirt and jacket covered in ribbons and medals, a black beret that melded with her jet black hair atop her head. Her mother congratulated her and praised her for some rank or achievement, who knew, it was all above Elizabeth’s head and she couldn’t care less. Bethany’s accomplishments were all her mother seemed to notice despite the wall of shelves with trophies and medals in her room from every sport and academic accomplishment she had earned up to the age of 15. Her mother had scolded her for second place on the first trophy she had won. Despite participating for an event two grades above her own, the second place trophy was in her mother’s words, “nothing to be proud of.” Bethany looked exhausted, there were dark bags under her eyes and Elizabeth could tell she was holding something in that she wasn’t telling her mother or letting out at all. Their mother was emotionally unavailable and lacked any skill to read people’s troubles or worries. Bethany just kept her eyes cast towards the ground as if in shame as her mother showered her in praises. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of her all powerful older sister’s lower lip trembling for just a brief moment, her posture was off and she wasn’t standing proud like an Amazon should. She looked… weak. The memory skipped forward to her standing in front of Bethany’s bedroom door that had remained unchanged since she had moved out to the military base. The house was excessively large with a number of guest rooms so there was no need to confiscate and repurpose the room. The door swung open and she stepped in next to Bethany who had changed into something more comfortable and had let her long hair out of the tight braid the military dress code required. Her body language was defensive, but seeing Elizabeth, her shoulders slouched a little and she became more relaxed. She didn’t know why she did it but she just leaned forward and opened up her arms and embraced Bethany. She was just a head shorter than Bethany at this point and she put her head in the crook of Bethany’s neck as she pulled herself in. It was the first time she had really shown any physical emotion to her family, being so far apart in age, she wasn’t really a part of her life aside from the very few years she had when she was just a baby before Bethany had deployed, and a few sporadic holidays here and there. In fact she had only met her brother less than a handful of times and she had enough fingers on one hand to count the amount of times her mother had shown her any attention like this. She wasn’t expecting it but Bethany just broke down crying in her arms and brought her own arms up to hold her tight as she let go and uncontrollably sobbed. She couldn’t really form coherent words as she soaked Elizabeth’s t-shirt with tears but she gathered that something had gone terribly wrong on her last mission and that she was leaving the service. When Bethany calmed down, the two just sat together and talked, it was a critical memory for Elizabeth and it’s when Bethany explained how to get a deferment from the military. Bethany would secretly use her military accomplishments as merit points that the Merlot family had done their fair share of service to help with Elizabeth’s deferment. Bethany didn’t know that Elizabeth was well aware of what she had done to help her get out of the mandatory service but she was glad to have a big sister watching out for her. The next thing she knew she was standing on the stairs to the stage at her graduation. She was a year ahead of schedule and would soon be leaving for a prestigious nanny school. She was happy, her sister had helped her through the process of getting the deferment and was now working for a tech company in the private sector. Elizabeth was happy for her, she seemed much more relaxed and happy now but she still would occasionally get in a depressive episode. Bethany and her often talked and lately their phone calls had revolved around Bethany adopting a little, she didn’t know when and she wasn’t in a huge rush but she knew it’s what she wanted to do. She teased that it would help her pick up ladies having a little because who couldn’t resist an adopted little. Bethany had come out as gay to their mother shortly after her discharge. That went over as well as everyone expected, which was to say a complete disaster and screaming match between Beth Merlots. Nasty things were said, doors were slammed, Elizabeth avoided the crossfire. She claimed it was all of that time spent around dudes being complete idiots and almost getting her killed in the field but Elizabeth kept her mouth shut about her platoon being mostly female. Elizabeth had picked up on Bethany’s tendencies and the phone conversation she had sneakily eavesdropped on when she was still in school and living at home when she was younger came to mind and made infinitely more sense now that she was older and more mature about the sexual lives of younger adults. Bethany was much better off now that she wasn’t constantly under their mother’s thumb living at home again. Her thoughts cleared as her name was called and she strutted across the stage. She heard cheering from the auditorium's stands as she accepted her diploma and looked out over the crowd. The couple of years since Bethany had left the service had really been some of Elizabeth’s most memorable, it was Bethany who was being rowdy in the audience of otherwise stoic amazons. She could faintly make out people sitting on either side of Bethany but couldn’t tell who. She blushed and scurried across the stage and back to her seat while she waited for the ceremony to end. Bethany hunted her down while she said congrats to her few friends after the principal had dismissed them for the last time. On her hip was Anise and in tow behind her was their older brother. It was strange meeting him for the first time in her nearly adult life, the Merlot genes were strong and he had the same black hair and golden eyes as her despite all three of them having different fathers from their mother’s different flings. He was handsome for Mid 30’s. He was even taller than Bethany by quite a bit and was broadly built with wide shoulders. He was in a very professional suit as was Bethany in a classy business pantsuit. Bethany spoke up “I brought along Mathew, I hope that’s okay, mom is being mom which is nothing new and is busy with some executive meeting. Sorry little sis.” The ‘little sis’ brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes but she promised herself she wouldn’t cry and instead lunged forward and hugged Bethany who caught her with her free arms and rubbed her back. Anise patted her head and congratulated her quietly before she turned to Mathew. “Long time no see squirt.” He said awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away to the side in embarrassment. “Hi big bro.” Elizabeth said teasingly as she moved over to give him a hug too. Their little family, no matter how screwed up it might have been, felt nice. “Uh, so this is my wife.” Mathew said awkwardly as he sidestepped a little to reveal a tweener girl standing behind him. “Thanks for the late introduction.” She teasingly said, slugging him in the shoulder before hugging Elizabeth tightly. It made sense now why she hadn’t seen Mathew in forever, surely their mother would not be happy about his relationship with a tweener with her old school ways of thinking. Mathew’s wife introduced herself as “Patricia or Patty, whichever is fine.” She was a fireball and a hoot, easily had Matt wrapped around her little fingers and seemed to be the one wearing the pants in the relationship which was funny because all of her memories of Mathew were his super serious demeanour and stoic expressions. Patty seemed to break all that and Elizabeth was happy to see him smiling. Patty was a dirty blonde borderline brunette with a smattering of freckles over her nose and was on the tall side for a tweener but still shorter than Elizabeth. Her eyes were a hazel greenish hee and she wore a nice, white, loose fitting dress and minimal jewellery aside from the massive rock on her left ring finger. She was very sweet and had moments of timidness around Matt but always stepped up to challenge him. They all went out to dinner to celebrate together but Elizabeth’s eyes kept following Patty. She didn’t put things together until they were in the parking lot after dinner. “You’re pregnant aren’t you?” She asked out loud unintentionally as soon as the lightbulb went off. It was the first time in the evening that Patty acted a little bashful as they stood outside the car, her foot drawing circles on the pavement before she replied “damn Amazon maternal instincts, at least you made it a bit longer than Bethany over there, she picked up on it almost as soon as she picked us up from the airport!” Bethany and Elizabeth laughed together and congratulated them. Anise threw out a cute and excited “imma be an auntie?” Which got everyone laughing. They were all in the car headed back to the Merlot estate when Elizabeth was dying to know how Patty and Matty met. “You know, spy things, foreign enemies with a forbidden love. Lots of explosions, undercover operations, turning traitors, all the sappy movie things you see.” Patty responded nonchalantly for Mathew as he drove while she played with Anise in her car seat, tickling her feet for lots of adorable giggles. Elizabeth didn’t know how much of that to really accept but she had heard whisperings of Mathew’s job and potentially being a secret agent which she couldn’t confirm. It was cute, and the idea of a fantasy movie love like that really sounded amazing, she wondered if she’d ever find a love like that. The car pulled up outside the main house and they all disembarked and headed for the front door. Their mother was waiting for them at the door and she stood with crossed arms as she looked at the group. “Elizabeth, congratulations are in order for your early graduation, there is a cake in the dining room. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Mathew and down at Patty. Hello Mathew and Patricia, pleasure to have you with us this fine evening.” The way she said that didn’t sound like it was a pleasure. “Bethany, welcome home, I’ve had the Maid ready your room and a guest room for the young couple. Anise’s nanny has the evening off so I will take her and get her ready for bed.” She said as she picked up Anise. “Say goodnight sweetie.” She told Anise who gave a little yawn and wave with her goodnight. Despite Elizabeth’s neglected upbringing, Her mother did seem to care greatly for Anise. Maybe if she hadn’t spent her life slaving away to run the little Merlot empire, she’d have had more time to develop a relationship with her children. The small group minus their mother ate cake at the kitchen bar together, laughing and having a good time telling old stories. Elizabeth didn’t even mind being the butt of the jokes of their memories of her as a child. Even though they didn’t have a ton of time together they all had their individual and unique stories and they felt like family which filled Elizabeth’s heart, hoping she’d have this some day. Her dreams spiralled into thoughts of Max. She’d only known him for an evening but her dreams devolved to a whole group of black and red haired children laughing and swarming her, it looked and sounded perfect. She dreamed of him whisking her away and sweeping her off her feet. There were tons of flashes of her submission to him but it felt right. Elizabeth’s eyes slowly opened from the dream of old memories. She felt incredibly well rested. Daylight was what had woken her up and at first she panicked a little seeing the bars surround her. Then she felt the unforgiving restraints of the sleeper she had been put in followed by the soaked cool diaper around her waist. It all came back to her slowly and she smiled a little as she turned her head to the side and saw the pacifier laying on the mattress next to her head. As the morning fog cleared from her eyes and focused a little more she noticed something beyond the bars of the crib. ‘A fabric wall? It moves?’ Her eyes followed the grey fabric up which turned into the shapely curves of a woman and finally landed on an older woman’s face. Well not super old, like late 40’s early 50’s she determined after she focused a little more. Someone was standing over her watching her sleep in the crib and it wasn’t Max.

There's nothing wrong with debating whether her form of activism is helpful to her cause, but comments like this are simply disgusting and unnecessary. --- As a side note, attacking climate activists for supposed hypocrisy is ridiculous. People do what they have to do to get by. Even if she needed to wear disposable diapers that isn't the mark against her that people think it is. Global Warming is a systematic, global problem, almost 100 percent driven by corporations. One person wearing a disposable diaper isn't the problem. The issue is the lack of laws and regulations that allow corporations to run wild in polluting the planet without having to face any consequences. One of the biggest lies driven about climate issues is the way in which corporations try to shift the blame from themselves to individuals, who often have little say in the products that they need to use to get through their lives.

Chapter 4 The morning light filtered through Lucy's curtains, casting a soft glow over her room. She stirred, the events of the previous day slowly piecing together in her waking mind. As consciousness took hold, she felt the diaper, still snug around her, and remembered its transformation during the car ride—how what was initially embarrassing had become soft and comforting. Lucy lay in her bed, pondering her feelings towards the diaper now. The memory of its comfort, the way it had changed from something unfamiliar to a source of security, lingered with her. The initial embarrassment faded into the background, overshadowed by the sense of safety it provided, especially in the loving care of her mother. With these thoughts, Lucy realized she needed to pee. This time, there was no hesitation, no discomfort. She remembered the feeling from the day before and found herself curious to experience that transformation again, from dry and form-fitting to soft and squishy, all while in the privacy of her own bed. So, she relaxed and let go, feeling the diaper absorb the wetness, enveloping her in a familiar comfort. As she lay there, comfortable and content in her bed, Lucy's feelings toward the diaper had shifted. It was no longer just a reminder of an awkward situation or a temporary solution during a long car ride. It had become something that provided her with a sense of security, a peculiar but comforting presence in the aftermath of an eventful day. Later, when Anne came into Lucy's room to wake her up, she found her daughter already awake, bathed in the soft morning light. The quiet of the morning enveloped them as they shared a gentle, sleepy smile. Without a word about the diaper, Anne helped usher Lucy out to breakfast. Breakfast was a cozy affair, with Peter raising his eyebrows slightly at Lucy's attire but choosing to keep his thoughts to himself. The family's morning routine carried on as usual, filled with the simple joys of shared meals and light conversation. After breakfast, Lucy retreated to her room to change. Standing there in her pajamas and diaper, she paused for a moment, considering. The wet diaper, a testament to her newfound comfort and the peculiar security it offered, didn't seem as off-putting as it might have before. With a shrug, she decided to keep it on, slipping into a pair of baggy sweats that easily concealed it and choosing a shirt that matched her casual, carefree mood. Anne, busy with her own morning tasks, didn't notice the choice Lucy had made. When the suggestion of a trip to the park came up, Lucy agreed with a nod, excitement for the day's adventure sparkling in her eyes. The park was a place of endless imagination for Lucy, a canvas for her vibrant creativity to run wild. As they arrived, Lucy ran ahead, her laughter mingling with the sounds of other children playing. Anne watched from a bench, her heart swelling with love for her spirited daughter, unaware of the diaper hidden beneath Lucy's sweats. After playing on the swings and going down the slide, amidst her play and laughter, Lucy felt the familiar urge to pee. Without a second thought, she decided to use the diaper, trusting in the convenience it had provided before. However, since the diaper was already wet from earlier, it couldn't absorb any more, leading to an unexpected leak that stained her sweats with a wet spot. Anne, upon noticing, was taken aback, not only by the sight but by the realization that Lucy had chosen to wear the diaper to the park. Concern mixed with curiosity as she asked Lucy why she had kept it on. Their conversation was gentle, a mother seeking to understand her daughter's feelings and choices. On the way home, Anne's mind was a whirl of thoughts. The surprise had given way to contemplation, considering Lucy's comfort and her unexpected attachment to the diaper. Once home, as Anne helped Lucy get cleaned up, she noticed Lucy's gaze drifting towards the package of diapers, a silent contemplation in her eyes. Anne paused, weighing her next words carefully. The decision to offer Lucy another diaper was fraught with considerations—was it encouraging a step backward in her development, or was it simply providing comfort in an unusual situation? Yet, seeing Lucy's quiet interest in the diapers, Anne recognized a deeper need, perhaps not fully understood even by Lucy herself. With a deep breath, Anne decided to bridge the gap with understanding and support. "Lucy, if you're curious or find comfort in wearing a diaper for now, it's okay. We can talk about what makes you feel safe and comfortable," Anne offered, her voice soft and devoid of judgment. It was an invitation for Lucy to express her feelings, to share the thoughts that had led her to make the choice she did. As she stood there, freshly cleaned and pondering her next steps, Lucy's eyes lingered on the package of diapers. The desire to wear another was a whisper in her heart, a gentle nudge towards a comfort she couldn't fully explain. Yet, the thought of voicing this wish, of articulating a need that even she didn't fully understand, was a mountain too steep to climb. The fear of misunderstanding, of raising questions she couldn't answer, held her back. Her mom's words, soft and inviting, floated through the air, a bridge over the chasm of her hesitations. Lucy sensed the openness, the unconditional support that had always been the foundation of their relationship. Still, the words to express her desire seemed to dance just out of reach, a melody she couldn't quite capture. The room was filled with a silent understanding, a shared space where words were unnecessary, yet the need for them was palpable. Lucy grappled with her reluctance, the internal tug-of-war between her longing for comfort and the fear of judgment. In the end, it was the gentle nudge of love, the subtle encouragement from her mom, that coaxed the words from her heart. "Mom, can I... would it be okay if I wore another diaper?" The question, soft and tentative, was a leap of faith, a trust in the bond that had always held them together. Lucy's request hung in the air, a fragile bubble of hope. The weight of her admission was met with a warmth that wrapped around her, a reassurance that her feelings, however unconventional, were heard and honored. In this moment, Lucy realized that the journey to understanding oneself is filled with unexpected detours, but with love and support, every step is a step forward. As her mom smiled and nodded, Lucy felt a wave of relief wash over her. The decision to wear another diaper was no longer a source of anxiety but a step towards embracing her own needs and comforts. In her mom's acceptance, Lucy found the courage to explore her feelings, to accept the comfort offered without the burden of judgment. As Anne gently laid out a fresh diaper, the room was filled with a quiet tenderness, a sacred space where mother and daughter navigated the intricate dance of understanding and acceptance. Lucy watched, her emotions a complex tapestry of relief, gratitude, and a lingering trace of uncertainty. She stood there, vulnerable yet comforted by the unwavering support that enveloped her like a warm embrace. Anne's hands were steady and careful, her movements practiced yet filled with an emotion that transcended the simplicity of the task. As she prepared to diaper Lucy, her eyes met her daughter's, conveying a depth of love and reassurance. This was more than just a physical act of care; it was a testament to the unspoken bond between them, a moment of connection forged in the acceptance of Lucy's needs. Lucy, sensing the profound love in her mother's actions, felt a wave of emotions crash over her. The embarrassment that had shadowed her request dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of being understood, of being seen for who she was and not judged for her desires. The vulnerability of the situation, rather than making her feel exposed, served to strengthen the trust and closeness she shared with her mom. As Anne gently lifted Lucy, positioning the diaper beneath her, there was a mutual respect in their silence, a recognition of the bravery it took for Lucy to express her needs and for Anne to respond with such grace and compassion. Anne's fingers worked with care, securing the diaper, each motion imbued with love and a silent promise of support, whatever the future might hold. The room was charged with a gentle energy, a blend of Anne's pride in her daughter's honesty and Lucy's relief at being accepted unconditionally. There was a beauty in this shared vulnerability, a reminder that sometimes, strength is found in the moments we least expect, in the willingness to show our true selves to those we love. After securing the diaper around Lucy, Anne helped her to her feet with a gentle touch, her actions wrapped in the same tenderness that had defined their earlier moments. Instead of grabbing clothes for Lucy, Anne scooped her up in her arms, carrying her towards the family room as if Lucy were lighter than air, her feet dangling playfully. Lucy, caught off guard by the deviation from their usual routine, looked up at her mom with a flicker of surprise. Anne, sensing her daughter's curiosity, smiled down at her. "You know, these diapers fit you perfectly. You make an excellent diaper model," she said, her voice laced with warmth and a hint of playfulness. The mention of modeling and the photo shoot from the day before ignited a spark in Lucy's eyes. The memories of the audition, of being in front of the camera and the encouraging words from the director, came flooding back, bringing with them a wave of excitement and pride. The uncomfortable moments faded into the background, overshadowed by the joy and the novelty of the experience. Lucy's initial surprise morphed into a delighted grin, her earlier hesitations melting away under her mom's affectionate gaze. The living room, a familiar space filled with the comfort of home, suddenly felt like a stage, a place where Lucy could relive the thrill of her audition. Anne set Lucy down on the soft rug, watching as her daughter's imagination took flight, transforming the room into her own personal photoshoot. Lucy's movements were spontaneous, a dance of joy and freedom, her laughter echoing through the room. This impromptu moment, sparked by Anne's playful comment, became a celebration of Lucy's newfound confidence, a testament to her ability to find joy in the unexpected. For Anne, watching her daughter embrace her individuality with such enthusiasm was a heartwarming reminder of the importance of supporting Lucy's journey, of nurturing her spirit in every way possible. The family room, filled with the soft afternoon light, was a canvas for Lucy's imagination, a space where she felt loved, accepted, and free to be herself. In this shared experience, the bond between mother and daughter was strengthened, a beautiful blend of support, acceptance, and unconditional love that would guide them through whatever adventures lay ahead. — After tucking Lucy into bed that night, Anne and Peter retreated to the living room, the soft hum of the house around them offering a backdrop to their conversation. The day’s events, particularly Lucy’s unexpected request to wear a diaper again, hung between them, a puzzle they sought to understand together. Peter broke the silence first, his voice thoughtful. "Do you think she wanted to wear the diaper because it reminded her of the audition? Maybe it made her feel special, like she was still part of that exciting world." Anne nodded, considering his words. "It could be. She seemed to really light up when we talked about her being a great diaper model. And she definitely enjoyed the attention and the care, it made her feel safe and loved." She paused, her mind wandering to Lucy's small stature, how it had opened the door to this unique opportunity in the first place. "The director did mention how she looks much younger than she is," Anne added, her tone shifting as a new thought took hold. "Maybe there are more opportunities out there for her in acting or modeling. Opportunities where her size is an advantage, not something that makes her different from her peers." Peter leaned back, mulling over the idea. "It's worth exploring," he said slowly. "If she enjoys it, and it's something that could build her confidence, why not? It could be a great way for her to understand that being small, looking young, can be her strength in certain situations." They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in thought about the possibilities that lay ahead for Lucy. The conversation had started with trying to understand Lucy's actions, but it had blossomed into a discussion about her future, about nurturing her unique qualities in a way that celebrated them. "Let's keep talking to her about it, see how she feels," Anne suggested. "And maybe start looking into other auditions or modeling gigs. If she's interested, it could be a fun adventure for her, something where she can shine just as she is." Peter agreed, his expression softening at the thought of their daughter finding joy and success in her own way. The night grew deep around them, but the conversation had lit a spark, a shared hope for Lucy's future, and a commitment to support her, to help her navigate the world with confidence, embracing who she was, every unique part of her.

I actually started writing in that direction, then had to change course, because it accelerated this act in the storyline - if Kelly had found out that Zack was already in police custody, her hand would have been forced.

Toddler. They can do more, they have some agency, they are starting to be aware of themselves and they can be a bit self-conscious about wearing diapers, which is me!

This. I'm not helpless, and can get around and into trouble, but I don't have responsibilities other than not pooping my pants lol

That looks like a now discontinued Bambino diaper, Carnival I think it's called. Yup. https://daynitecare.com/products/bambino-karnavalee?variant=44511795773755

Chapter 9 I must have been shattered. I slept like a log, just waking up once for a pee - remembering the nappy and enjoying the total lack of responsibility as I wet myself and went back to sleep. Simon woke me gently, placing the teat of a baby bottle in my mouth and encouraging me to suckle. “I see you’ve wee-weed in your nappy overnight Baby. That’s a good girl. You’re going to need to mess your nappy pretty badly soon, but I’d like you to hold it. I want us to have a nice breakfast downstairs before Mummy gets here - and I want you to have a clean nappy for mummy. Is that okay, Baby?” “Yes Daddy - I’ll try my best not to poo in my nappy.” “Good girl!” It was a bold commitment. I already felt the need to poop. However, I wanted to give it my best shot. “I’ll get a quick shower and then I’ll change your wet nappy and get you ready for breakfast. While I’m in the shower you can finish this bottle of baby milk.” He replaced the nipple in my mouth and I dutifully suckled as instructed. As he showered I lay in bed, feeling the warmth of my wet nappy between my legs, and savoured the now familiar taste of the baby milk. I wondered what the day would bring. He emerged from the bathroom still drying himself with a towel. I’d finished my bottle and was looking forward to a clean nappy. I was enjoying the process of having my nappy changed. It was an act of surrender, which I enjoyed, together with the pleasure of him rubbing and wiping my erogenous zones - perhaps more than was strictly necessary! Although my nappy was pretty thick, it was well disguised by my clothes and we made an inconspicuous - although attractive - couple at breakfast. Once again he was good company. I asked about the lady who was to be joining us, but was told I’d just have to wait. I was told that I’d be in full baby mode until she said otherwise. I could call him Dadda, her mama, but the only other words I could use were “peepee” and “poopoo” - I should tell mama when I was about to do either and await permission. It was intriguing. As we finished breakfast I could really feel the effects of the caster oil. I needed to poop but I was still capable of hanging on - for the moment, at least. Simon’s phone beeped and he quickly replied to a message. “Come on baby, let’s get back to our room - mummy is on her way and she won’t want to be kept waiting.” As we entered the lift he slipped the dummy into my mouth again and reached under my skirt to give me a nappy check. “Still clean. What a good little girl.” The dummy stayed in for the short walk down the corridor to the room, where he unlocked the door and guided me in ahead of him. As I entered I saw an attractive woman sitting in one of the armchairs. She looked at me with a warm smile. “So this is Baby Louise?” “Yes Paula” said Simon “And she’s been a very good girl for her daddy”. “Go and give your mummy a cuddle, Baby” I waddled across to Paula in my best baby-fashion for a cuddle. Paula stood up and hugged me warmly, kissing me on the cheek and patting my well-padded bottom. “Isn’t she a sweetheart, Daddy?” “She certainly is. She probably has something to ask you though. What do you want to ask Mummy, Baby?” He’d read my mind, breakfast and moving around had really put the laxatives to work. My belly was about to explode. But I remembered the limits of my baby vocabulary. “Poopoo Mama?” I asked, in my best babyish lisp. “Not yet, Baby” she replied. “Mummy wants her baby girl undressed so that she can see her in all her humiliated glory” Simon grabbed me and started stripping my adult clothes, leaving me naked except for my nappy. “She’s perfect, Simon. She’s a pretty little thing, petite, small boobs. Absolutely perfect.” Whist compliments are always appreciated, I was more preoccupied with the urgent need to let loose my bowels into my nappy. I sucked intently on my dummy, desperately trying not to lose control. “Mama, poopoo? Poopoo Mama!” She looked at me with a little smile. “One second Baby Louise” She grabbed my waist and turned me around. She wanted to see the full impact of my bowels on this nappy. “Okay Baby, fill that nappy for me with your poopoo”. To be honest, it was out of my control. My stomach gurgled as the dam burst and I shat myself; there was nothing that I could have done to stop it and it wasn’t discrete. The farting must’ve been heard in Parliament it was so loud. And the stink! How that nappy coped, I can’t imagine. I thought it would never stop. It was a massive relief, It was also excruciatingly humiliating. But also as hot as hell. I was really, really enjoying this.

Chapter 24 “Good morning Miss Lizzie, I am your Nanny, Sharlese.” The woman said with a smile and a slight foreign accent. Now that Elizabeth was wide awake she did another take of the woman. She was wearing a grey dress with the top above her chest and to her collar in pure white. The sleeves of the dress were very prestinely rolled up to just above her elbows and had been ironed flat into the sharpest, straightest edge possible. She had a maroon beret atop her head of pure white hair that was in a military style braid draped over her shoulder and was wearing glasses with perfect circle lenses just smaller than her eyes perched on her nose with their delicate wire frame. The chest of the dress had some sort of crest insignia embroidered on the right breast, a company logo that Elizabeth didn’t recognize even being a nanny herself. The woman was physically large, she wasn’t all toned muscle like Max but had a very matronly build. Her perfect appearance left a very dominant aura hanging in the air and her sapphire blue eyes looked down through the bars at Elizabeth asserting dominance without any action or word. “W-where’s Max Miss Sharlese?” Elizabeth was finally able to ask, still trapped in the cage of the crib and bound up in the sleeper. “He had to take an early morning meeting that he put off to be with you last evening. He has asked me to step in this morning to aid you in your morning routine. I am well aware of your particular circumstances little Lizzie. Now, would you like to get up, it is quite early still as the sun has just risen and we wouldn’t want a cranky baby.” Sharlese explained in her accent that Elizabeth still couldn’t place. Elizabeth was a bit taken aback being called a baby and little but a quick thought of the current predicament validated Miss Sharlese’s words with a blush. Elizabeth pondered for a moment if she was ready to get up but she was quite stiff from spending the night bound in the sleeper. She decided since she was being offered she might as well get up and her chances of falling back asleep with the nanny here were slim. She nervously responded “now would be good… nanny.” Elizabeth wasn’t sure how deep this scenario was. From her own experiences, she was accustomed to punishing littles for insincerity and lack of reform, clearly defining roles and following rules was the best course of action in this situation as she wasn’t ready for a morning spanking. “Very well.” The nanny responded before extracting a key from a hip pocket and opening the locks on the lid of the crib and dropping the side. She leaned over Elizabeth and with seeming ease and hoisted the diapered amazon from the crib onto her hip. Elizabeth was carried to the changing table of the nursery. A strap was brought across her stomach to keep her pinned to the table despite the bumpers that would keep her from rolling off. Sharlese pulled a pacifier from her pocket and slid the clean bulb into Elizabeth’s mouth without any fuss. It had a strange taste to it that reminded her of the previous night’s closing activity that honestly made her mouth water as she sucked naturally and blushed. Elizabeth began to look around the nursery for the first time with light now that she had a moment. The furniture of the room was all dark stained hardwood, close to black but not quite, it all had a reddish hue to it underneath the stain that with the right angle of lighting was very pretty. There was a large wardrobe in the corner with a key hole in the centre of the doors for the main cabinet and the foot drawers below each had the same. She looked at the crib next, the sheets were a dark forest green that reminded her of Max’s eyes and she noticed the three brass keyholes along the top rail that locked the lid down, it was the same design on the dresser. Elizabeth assumed the same key that Sharlese had used to free her from the crib would unlock everything in here. There was a large vanity near the wardrobe. It matched the other furnitures’ aesthetic or stained wood and instead of series of bulbs to outline the mirror as was common, there were fake candles with candle shaped bulbs. There wasn’t anything on the top of the vanity desk which Elizabeth assumed meant that everything was stored in the drawers away from prying eyes and curious hands. Specifically her curious hands and prying eyes. There was a large black rocking chair towards the foot of the changing table. With a green velvet cushion and backrest, again in the same colour as the crib’s sheets. Each piece of furniture was covered with delicately carved gothic style accents that matched the crown moulding around the ceiling of the room. The walls were a light grey that complimented the black and green theme along with the creamy white carpet and ceiling. She had only caught a glimpse of the rug in the centre of the room but Elizabeth knew the forest green emblem had to be Max's family seal. It all gave Elizabeth a tingly sensation in her tummy, she was sure she had grown out of the goth phase but the unique nursery was unlike any she had seen before and the gothic Lolita aesthetic resonated with her despite never having been able to dress that way with work and school. She secretly had a whole Pinterest board dedicated to the theme and her black hair and golden eyes would be a perfect match. It felt mature but at the same the outfits were so cute and little esque just in dark bold colours as opposed to the bright pastels that littles wore. Miss Sharlese undid the first restraint binding Elizabeth’s arm but kept a hold on her wrist to keep her from extending her arm. Slowly and methodically, the nanny began to massage Elizabeth’s arm from the shoulder to the elbow with her free hand slowly let her arm extend while working down. The massage felt glorious and Elizabeth felt like she was melting at the deep muscle soothing. As her arm was fully extended she could tell that the massage was much needed, being bound during the night had her cramped up and if she had just extended her arm immediately after release she knew she’d be in pain. The process was repeated with her other arm and then her legs. The fabric of the sleeper encasing her felt luxurious throughout the process and she would’ve found herself falling back asleep to the massage had she not been so self conscious of her current situation and completely red in the face. A practical stranger she had spent the night with had hired another stranger to be her caretaker. It seemed a little absurd and the Nanny not even flinching to the sight of an Amazon in a crib was a little questionable. “You may ask a few questions and I will try to answer within my bounds.” Miss Sharlese explained as she bicycle pumped Elizabeth’s legs up into her chest how a parent may for a baby to induce a bowel movement, the plug would ensure against that but Elizabeth would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel like it was increasing the pressure in her backside. Sharlese had seen the expression on Elizabeth’s face and was astute enough to recognize pondering. She had also been told the bounds she was to work in and had thoroughly read the contract she had signed with the owner of the international shipping agency that supplied her foundation with materials. She had had her suspicions about him and had been waiting for the day he called her up for her services. “Who do you work for?” Elizabeth finally formed her first question while her arms were worked in helicopter motions at the elbow to restore rotation, staring at the emblem on the nanny’s chest still trying to decipher the embroidered logo. The nanny noted the adorable lisp the pacifier created in the Amazon charge’s mouth and smiled a little. Sharlese giggled a little at the question before her response. “I am on assignment and on loan to Master Guildroy from the White Lotus Foundation.” The logo made sense now to Elizabeth who could see the flower design within the image but it was still a very complex logo and Elizabeth knew there was something more to it. The strap holding her down was undone and she was flipped onto her stomach for access to the panel sealing the zipper of the sleeper. Elizabeth turned her head to the side, looking away from the nanny to ask her next question. “Am I… am I your first Amazon charge Miss Sharlese? Is it strange or weird that an Amazon woman is in diapers being treated as a baby?” She asked a little hesitantly. “I’m not allowed to fully disclose that particular information but no, you are not my first Amazon. I also don’t find it strange or weird as you put it to have an amazon charge. Everyone has needs, wants, and different upbringings that lead to different development. From what I can tell, you slip into this role very easily and from my experience that’s an upbringing that speaks of growing up too fast and neglect. This side of you is a defence mechanism and outlet for relaxation and release from the burdens you have been saddled with.” Miss Sharlese explained, hitting the nail right on the head and bringing up the dream Elizabeth had had overnight. “The White lotus foundation only works with willing participants whether they be little, tweener, or amazon. I, or a member from my group, will be your trainer in a way to help you accept your position below Master Guildroy and determine what your limits and boundaries are. Some things are non-negotiable but I will help you accept those things.” The nanny explained simply while giving Elizabeth more to digest. The zipper was brought down quickly which allowed the cool air of the nursery into the sleeper and a shiver to run down Elizabeth's spine. She was flipped back over and her arms extracted from the garment and pulled down exposing her chest. Her legs were lifted next and the feet of the sleeper were pulled until it was free and discarded into the laundry hamper, leaving Elizabeth in just her wet diaper that caused her hands to come up and cover her blushing face while she nursed the pacifier a little more aggressively. Elizabeth had formed her next question by this point. “What sort of things are non-negotiable to Max?” She asked a little worried that it may be things that are too far out of her comfort zone to accept. “To answer that you will have to experience it.” Miss Sharlese explained. Elizabeth was a little frightened by the response but she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. She had no clothes, she was still in a diaper and plugged which had built up an obscene amount of pressure in her bowels overnight. She was at the mercy of the nanny and just based on how prestigious and professional this woman seemed along with her clear advantages she didn’t really have any option otherwise. She really didn’t want to test the Nanny and end up over her lap, that would be hard to explain to Bethany when she got home, why she had a red bottom, especially after she had spent the night out at a man’s house, there would already be enough prying on their activities as it stood. Miss Sharlese took hold of the first tape of the diaper and pried it away from the landing strip. The process was repeated to every tape until Elizabeth felt the front of the diaper relax away from her skin. She peaked out from behind her fingers and watched as the diaper was pulled away. “My my, you did quite a number on that diaper and you didn’t even stir slightly in your sleep.” Miss Sharlese commented as she extracted the diaper from under Elizabeth and balled it up, taping it closed on itself before dropping it in the diaper bin. Elizabeth blushed in embarrassment at the bedwetting comment, she really had flooded the diaper in her sleep and hadn’t even noticed it. She put on a set of latex gloves and commented. “We’ll have to remove this but I expect you to hold it in until I get your diaper change finished.” Miss Sharlese commented as she firmly pushed against the base of the plug, eliciting a yelp from Elizabeth and a new shade of red in her cheeks. It was still cold inside of her which had been a constant reminder of its presence, she figured it must be a high end ice plug that stayed cool constantly so the wearer couldn’t become accustomed to it. “But we can take this out for now” Sharlese said as she took hold of the tail of the vibrator that was still left inside her from the previous night. She hadn’t even noticed that she was turned on and self lubricating at the attention and humiliation from the nanny who easily pulled the vibe out in a gentle and slow movement. A few warmed wet wipes ensured Elizabeth was clean enough for a new diaper and wiped away the faint scent of sex that had been marinating in her diaper with her nighttime accidents. Elizabeth couldn’t watch as a new diaper was pulled from under the changing table and was unfolded and fluffed out. Miss Sharlese expertly slid the diaper under Elizabeth’s bottom and applied a bit of oil and powder before her hand moved to the plug. “Deep breath now and make sure you hold it in.” Elizabeth just now came to the realisation that the reason she had to hold it in was so that she would fill the diaper. She really didn’t want to poop her pants but knew if she didn’t follow that instruction this nanny could probably come up with some pretty nefarious punishments. Lost in her train of thought, she had realised that the nanny had taken hold of the base of the plug and was already pulling. She let out another yelp that masked her moan as the girth of the plug exited her rear. Sharlese kept a little forward pressure on the plug to keep Elizabeth from expelling it quicker as the taper of the plug helped itself out of the girl. Elizabeth clenched her muscles with all of her might to hold back the pressure that had built overnight. Being plugged all night had dramatically fatigued her sphincter and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold for long. Sharlese set the plug aside and quickly folded the diaper between Elizabeth’s legs in case she couldn’t hold out. The tapes were pulled tight on the diaper, granted a little slowly to test the girl before the nanny reached for the strap holding her down. Elizabeth didn’t even make it that long as her body fought to expel its waste. She groaned and whispered “noooo” as her stomach clenched and she gave an involuntary push. Miss Sharlese paused from unbuckling Elizabeth as her hands came down from her face to grip the sides of the changing table as her body put in all of its effort to relieve itself. It felt like she had more waste than amazonly possible as she lightly shook under the cramped pushing for what felt like an hour. The diaper swelled dramatically under the load that had been deposited and Elizabeth could feel the mush filling every corner of the seat of the garment. 10 minutes after losing the fight, and panting a little on the table, Elizabeth’s body felt like it was 10 pounds lighter. The relief was immense and she hadn’t noticed how bad she had to go with the plug still inside her. “That was very naughty little Lizzie.” Sharlese commented as she looked down with disappointment at Elizabeth. “B-but I held it in for the diaper.” Elizabeth said blushing. “You’ll note that I said hold it in until your change was finished. You are still on the changing table, therefore the change was not finished. We will have to correct that and I don’t believe I gave you permission to talk back to your nanny. If you had talked back to the master like that I’m sure his punishment would be much worse than mine will be.” Elizabeth froze hearing the “will be.” She knew she shouldn’t have talked back or tried to dispute the nanny, she’d punish her charges as well for that kind of comment. “Y-yes nanny.” Elizabeth finally stuttered out as the buckle for the strap holding her down was released, trying to earn at least a few brownie points to minimise the damages. Elizabeth was lifted from the table and set on the floor on all fours. It forced her to look up at Sharlese who looked even bigger now that she stood menacingly over her. Sharlese turned and in two strides was at the rocking chair. “Come here.” Was the command followed by a finger that pointed to the floor next to her leg. Elizabeth knew she was to crawl over and sit next to the nanny and promptly did so, her diapered bottom swaying in the air as she quickly made the move. The load in her diaper was causing it to droop between her legs and she was a little grateful to have a moment of reprieve from the mush. Elizabeth took up her position next to the nanny and sat with her hands between her knees but hovering a little to keep the diaper off the floor and from squishing the mess back into her skin. She was still naked aside from the diaper but surprisingly wasn’t feeling bashful about her nudity but was more so embarrassed by the stink filling the air around her which overrode any other embarrassment. “Being a nanny yourself, I imagine you know what is coming. We will begin after you’ve properly taken your position.” Sharlese said as she looked down over her nose. Elizabeth knew what she meant and slowly lowered her bottom into the mess with a slight grimace, casting her eyes to the floor between her legs as her full weight sank into the messy padding. It was the first time she looked at the diaper since being in it. It was a deep purple colour with white stars cascading across the surface. She recognized it as an Amazon sized version of a little’s diaper she occasionally saw. She let her knees out a little to get comfortable in the W sitting position with her palms on the floor, fully settling into her waste. “Very good, you can be a good girl after all. I’m glad you have experience so I won’t have to fully train you. But, with your experience you should know better to begin with and will be held to a higher standard from the get go. Now, up.” Sharlese said, giving her lap a gentle pat with her hand. Elizabeth followed the order, knowing she had no other choice. She draped herself across the large legs of the Amazon sitting in the rocking chair, her padded posterior aimed up in the air. “For now we will start with 10 for talking back to your nanny.” Sharlese said as she let her hand fly forward into the seat of Elizabeth’s diaper. The mush seemed to explode against her skin and stick the diaper to her bottom. The blow was intense for Elizabeth and she let out a little squeak from the abrupt impact. Sharlese was even more in tune with her spanking abilities as she expertly landed blow after blow. The final strike broke Elizabeth as she let the tears out finally and quietly sobbed over her reddened bottom. “Very good, you're such a brave girl.” Sharlese said as she repositioned the Amazon into her lap and cuddled her into her substantial bosom. The praise felt good and Elizabeth calmed down almost immediately to the hand stroking her head. Sharlese was impressed with how easy this amazon in her lap submitted. The ones she typically worked with would need lots of work to pull out the submissive side they craved, Elizabeth seemed almost naturally submissive which was a rarity amongst amazons. “For being such a good girl, we’ll do a little horsey ride as your punishment for not holding it and forgo the remainder of the spanking.” Sharlese said as she repositioned Elizabeth onto her knees. Elizabeth was bouncing up and down before she could react to the much stronger amazon that was tossing her around as if she were a little. Sharlese’s hands supported her hips as she moved up and down the mush in her diaper spreading out just the tiny bit more that it could after the spanking. The ride was causing all sort of conflicting emotions to bounce around in her body with each jolt. It felt good in the diaper the way it rubbed her but her mind kept trying to tell her it was disgusting to take pleasure from her own poop squishing around inside a diaper against her skin. Overall the pleasure won out and her vision filled with stars as she achieved orgasm with a soft moan and a tense body as Sharlese quit bouncing and let her ride out the high. It was truly fascinating to Sharlese how easy this Amazon was. Max sure knew how to pick them and if she hadn’t already been claimed by Max, Sharlese would have put in her own bid for the Amazon girl in her lap. She knew she was going to enjoy this and understood why she hadn’t heard from Master Guildroy sooner, he had just been holding out for the perfect one. She felt an odd feeling for the first time in a long, was it jealousy? She stuffed the emotion back down and shook her head a little, she was far too old and busy for jealousy or taking on a charge full time but this Elizabeth girl peaked her interest. Sharlene broke from her thoughts as she recognized Lizzie’s breathing stabilizing. She hoisted the girl onto her hip as she rose from the rocking chair and headed for the nursery door. Elizabeth panicked a little, Max had mentioned that his help had been off for the evening but she wasn’t sure if they’d be back this morning. She was a little frightened by the prospect of being seen by a maid in her current condition as she rode the hip of the matron amazon caring for her. She buried her face in the nanny’s shoulder as the door opened to the hallway and stepped out. Elizabeth peaked out a little as she was carried down the stairs and into what appeared to be a kitchen. She had no defenses as she was pried off of the nanny and set down with a quiet squelch from her padding. Being naked all of a sudden mattered quite a bit and she brought her arms up to cover her chest. She opened her eyes just in time to see the nanny sliding a tray in front of her with an audible and sturdy click. She looked down and shifted a little as she came to realize she was trapped in an Amazon sized high chair. A post was positioned between her legs and mildly reminded her of the nanny’s large knees pressing against her sodden diaper. Sharlese pullled Elizabeth’s hands away from her chest and attached cuffs to each wrist that kept them at tray level. Next her ankles were secured to the legs of the chair followed by a strap that passed under her breasts and one above that kept her back pinned to the chair. The nanny went about preparing a breakfast suitable for the Amazon baby in her care. The longest process was waiting for the water to boil for the massive serving of oatmeal she was making. After the dry flakes soaked up the hot water and were ready she shoveled on a heaping spoonful of sugar and a few handfuls of dried prunes completed the bowel. She may not be around for the catastrophe this breakfast would wreak on the Amazon’s diaper after she was returned to her older sister but she made sure it would definitely have an effect. The dish was set on the tray in front of Elizabeth and Miss Sharlese dug a large spoon in and lifted it to Elizabeth’s mouth. She hadn’t had oatmeal in a long time but she knew of the fibre content having great effects on littles. She grimaced a little expecting the taste of cardboard but was pleasantly surprised by the sweet flavour. Miss Sharlese fed her spoon after spoon, occasionally missing her mouth to drop some of the contents on her chest. An Amazon sized serving of oatmeal and prunes was substantial and it took a solid fifteen minutes before Sharlese was scraping the bowl clean. The brown sugar sprinkled across the top was long gone and Elizabeth was struggling to finish the serving as her stomach dissented with food. She was practically in a food coma and don’t think she could handle another bite as she slouched in the chair stuffed. Sharlese cleaned the dishes while Elizabeth recovered a bit in the chair. She wasn’t expecting a large bottle to be held up to her lips when Sharlese returned. She tried to turn her head away but Sharlese kept the nipple of the bottle against her lips and demonstrated her skills in patience. “Come now dear Lizzie, we want to make sure you have a nice soggy diaper for your big sister when you get home.” Sharlese teased the nipple against her lips some more but Elizabeth still refused to accept the bottle. “Suit yourself, you’re only making it much harder for yourself.” Sharlese said as she removed the restraints followed by the tray. Elizabeth was quickly carried back to the nursery without another word. She knew refusing the bottle would more than likely earn her some sort of punishment but she couldn’t even think about taking in any more food or liquid. She was deposited onto the changing table where a series of cuffs were added to her limbs and unceremoniously attached to the anchors in the table. Sharlese went about her way and stripped the tapes of the diaper and began work on cleaning up the mess of smeared waste with a pile of wet wipes after she put on a set of gloves. Elizabeth could tell internally from the lack of emotion that Sharlese was upset as there was no caring emotion in the cleaning process as she was wiped down. Content with Elizabeth’s front, her legs were unclipped and repositioned to how she was the night before with Max which brought with it a flood of naughty thoughts. Sharlese however just continued cleaning Elizabeth up before extracting the diaper from underneath her and balling it up for the garbage bin. “Now, let’s go get you showered and bathed so you smell like a nice little girl when you go home.” Sharlese said with a smile that Elizabeth could tell was hiding something sinister. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about refusing your baba, we’ll take care of that as well.”

When you're being arrested 20 times in a row in the same spot so all the legacy media press can have their climate propaganda pics. You might indeed need diapers. In my honest opinion, we'd be better off feeding her to a polar bear tho 😛

Hi everyone thought I would share this fanny pack. I started attending concerts and have tried this fanny pack as an alternative to a medical backpack so I can keep things more discreet and easier to manage. I've also used Scott E Vest jackets but need a summer solution. I can fit one folded in-half Rearz or Trest medium diaper plus some wipes in a baggy and some other items as well. It's a SoJourner bag. Click the link or just search in Amazon. Hope I helps someone else. I've tried like 30 different bags and this one works for me. The folded diaper is key! https://a.co/d/0ZDr7Gy

Few things show the demographics of DD like a topic like this. Guys, if you want to disagree with science and evidence then be my guest, there is unfortunately nothing I can do to make you see reason. But some of the posts here are crossing a line. Making disparaging comments about mental health issues and neurodivergencies does nothing but make you look bad. She's a young woman who believes in something and is out there trying to make a difference. You don't have to agree but you do have to follow the rules here (ie. "don't be a dick.")

I only discovered yesterday that I'm apparently 10%-30% little. Always thought I was a complete diaper lover, making an exception for plushies because they're cute and onesies because they're comfortable, but it looks like that means there's some real littleness in there. I see that most people vote toddler because it gives them more freedom to play, so to say, but I'm going to vote baby for the exact same logic. There's no freedom as a baby, you're essentially helpless and that is kind of scary, it's a complete surrender. I like scary things a lot lately. I'm still figuring out what my littleness means, I'm also a little scared of what I might find out.

I knew this was coming before you posted it, Penn. But I gotta just jump in here to say. One, I am never going to let Mia forget that when you wrote her life, it's in the format of an S&P story!! 😈 Two, you did a REALLY good job imitating our style. Also, I wanna be the first to say it. Your story is 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

@PeculiarChangeling - I could never have imagined what you had planned for this story... you made a universe where Ai and Bala are just characters in a story, which is exactly what they are for so many people. It's such a wonderfully creative (and totally wild!) meta analysis of writers and characters. That we create things for an audience, sometimes for ourselves, but what we make often becomes its own thing. It becomes greater than the sum of its parts. And isn't that what this whole Academy II project is about? When Sophie pitched you as a writer on this project, I was excited. You've been a big inspiration for me. Actually, when I need help with some of the sexier parts of Academy Works (specifically in A:A and A:M), I turned to your writing to help me through things I'm not great at describing. And then when Sophie told me what your ideas were, I was anxious. Because this is more meta than I wanted. It's weird, and it doesn't cater to the readers. I was scared of letting this story be something I didn't want it to be. But I'm glad I did. You told a story I was too afraid to tell. Honestly... not to be too sentimental or whatever... but Academy Works has totally changed my life. I've found out so many things about myself writing this series. Through Ai and Bala, I've been able to look at parts of myself that I consider bad or evil, things I hate about me, and see them through a more empathetic lens. And also, without Academy Works, I never would have met my girlfriend. Speaking of... I am extremely embarrassed (and flattered maybe???) that you made me a character in your story. (I am flashing back to Sophie asking me "can I share some personal info about you with the other writers?" not knowing it would matter this much!!!) But Blossom is going to be over the moon!! Anyway, I'm not that wordy. The fact that I've written so much in one comment is pretty out of character. So I'll wrap this up. Thank you for your contribution to the series! Thank you for your contribution to me. Now I have to rethink how I'm going to end Academy Works. ~Mia Moore~

I said baby, but right at that toddler stage, trying to walk saying a few words and trying to feed myself But very much a baby but can wear cute baby dresses and love to babble and play

Me thinks the clothing and wardrobe of a toddler has greater horizons and still can have the diapers and baby basics. The ability to walk talk is in a more advanced stage of communication - - - The pre use of reason can be tempered with meaningful punishments and humiliations (you are not a baby anymore !) NO you can't run around in just diapers and a onesie or t shirt - you need a skirt dress or shortalls and tenneys or mary janes ! If these show a peek of your toddler development - so much the better !

Toddler. Oddly enough, a toddler is in a weird position, not quite a child, not quite a baby, but, able to slide from one to the other momant to momant. Can be fully a baby for a while, then just a suddenly being a bigger kid, and wanting bigger kid things, but not quite there, so its ok if you still need your diapers.

I am fairly new to bedwetting, it started about 3 months ago. I would wake up with cold soaked underwear and sheets. My doctor found nothing really wrong and traced it back to the meds I am taking and a surgery several years ago. He offered more tests (some were a little invasive). When I asked what other options, he basically said diapers. It was a little strange at first but now I'm used to them and like some others have posted, if I do wake up I just use the diaper and go back to sleep. I'm comfortable enough now on weekends to keep a wet diaper on for a few hours after getting up and enjoy breakfast and coffee.

Chapter 2 The statement hung between them, a stark reminder of the unique situation they had navigated to get here. Anne's eyes widened slightly, understanding the dilemma immediately. The audition space, crowded and lacking in privacy, offered no easy solution. She gave Lucy's hand a reassuring squeeze before standing up to seek assistance. Anne approached one of the organizers, a clipboard-carrying woman who seemed to be orchestrating the chaos with efficiency. After a brief exchange, where Anne's concern was met with a sympathetic yet firm response, she returned to Lucy, her expression a mixture of concern and resolve. She knelt down beside her, taking her hands gently. "The lady said that you can use the diaper if you need to go, sweetheart. I know it's not ideal, but it might be the only option right now," she explained with a soft, apologetic tone. Lucy looked up at her mom, a mix of confusion and understanding in her eyes. It was a lot to ask of a child who hadn't needed a diaper in years. Peter joined them, offering a supportive shoulder for Lucy to lean on. "Remember how you always wanted to be a big girl and do things on your own?" Peter said, trying to instill a sense of empowerment. "Well, sometimes, being a big girl means doing things a little differently. It’s just for a short while, and we have a whole pack so we can change you into a dry diaper after. We'll be right here with you." Lucy took a deep breath, nodding slowly as the reality of the situation sunk in. Anne and Peter exchanged a look, their hearts heavy with the oddity of the request but buoyed by the resilience they saw in Lucy. They found a discreet spot, reassuring her with quiet words and the promise that this was just another part of the adventure. As Lucy accepted the situation with a tentative nod, Anne and Peter stood by her, a united front in the peculiar world they had stepped into. They were learning, just as Lucy was, that the path to following a dream could take turns they'd never imagined. Lucy, despite her attempts, found it difficult to let go. The unfamiliar sensation of wearing a diaper, coupled with the public setting, left her tense and unable to relax. Seeing her discomfort, Anne knew she had to intervene. She crouched down beside Lucy and began to tickle her sides gently. Lucy's giggles filled the air, a sound so familiar and heartwarming that it drew smiles from nearby parents despite their own anxieties. The laughter helped Lucy to finally relax, and soon the telltale darkening of the diaper indicated her success. Anne and Peter shared a look of relief. Anne stopped tickling and hugged Lucy close, whispering words of comfort and pride for her bravery. Peter knelt down to join the embrace, ensuring Lucy knew how much they supported and loved her. With a nod from Lucy indicating her readiness, Anne spread the Huggies-branded towel on the floor once more. As Lucy lay back, a brief flash of vulnerability crossed her face, the sensation of a wet diaper being foreign to her. Anne worked quickly, her hands deftly undoing the tapes of the sodden diaper. She lifted Lucy's ankles with a practiced ease, the motion familiar and yet distant, a remnant of Lucy's infancy. Sliding the used diaper away, Anne placed a fresh one underneath her daughter. She pulled it up between Lucy’s legs, securing it with the adhesive tapes, ensuring it was snug but comfortable. Throughout the process, Anne's heart was a blend of nostalgia and maternal pride. She looked at her daughter, so grown up in so many ways, and yet here they were, in this unexpected throwback to her toddler years. The sight was endearing, and for a fleeting second, Lucy was once again the baby she had cradled and cared for. Anne's smile was warm as she helped Lucy to her feet, brushing a strand of hair from her face. In her heart, she whispered a silent gratitude for these moments, these memories being made, even under such unusual circumstances. And as she packed away the towel, Anne cherished the resilience and trust her young daughter had shown today. Finding a relatively quiet spot amidst the hustle of the audition venue, Anne, Peter, and Lucy settled down to wait for their turn. Lucy was unusually quiet, her small frame sinking into the chair, a clear sign of the whirlwind of emotions she had just navigated. The unfamiliar weight of the diaper and the public change had unnerved her, a vulnerability visible in the glassiness of her eyes, hinting at tears she bravely held back. Anne and Peter exchanged concerned glances, their hearts aching at the sight. But they knew their daughter. With gentle encouragement and the unwavering support that had always been the cornerstone of their family, they began to distract her with light conversation, pointing out the various characters in the room, making up silly stories about what kind of secret superhero powers they might have. It wasn’t long before Lucy’s resilience shone through. The tension in her shoulders eased, and the sparkle that so defined her began to return to her eyes. Her parents watched as laughter replaced the quiet, her giggles a testament to the strength of her spirit. Lucy’s ability to rebound, to find joy even in moments of discomfort, was a trait Anne and Peter admired deeply. As Lucy returned to her usual, happy self, chatting animatedly about the audition and the other children she had seen, her parents felt a renewed sense of pride. Their little girl, despite the day’s challenges, remained undaunted, ready to face whatever came next with a smile. Chapter 3 Upon entering the audition room, the atmosphere shifted from the tense anticipation of the waiting area to a more personal and engaging environment. The director, a man with a welcoming smile and a gentle demeanor, immediately put Lucy and her parents at ease with his friendly chatter. Complimenting Lucy on her cuteness in just the diaper, he expressed his surprise upon learning she was six years old. His initial remark about her age brushed Lucy's pride the wrong way. However, his quick recovery, highlighting the advantage of her age for easier direction compared to younger children, brought a reluctant smile to her face. His acknowledgment not only restored her confidence but also made her feel valued for her maturity and cooperation. The director's approach was both thoughtful and strategic, transforming what could have been an awkward moment into an opportunity to build rapport with Lucy. As he introduced the concept of the shoot, explaining that all Lucy needed to do was play with some props and toys while they captured the moments, the audition seemed less like a formal evaluation and more like an invitation to a play session. This setup was perfect for Lucy, allowing her natural curiosity and playful spirit to shine through. The mention of toys piqued her interest, redirecting her focus from the earlier discomforts to the excitement of exploration and play. In this environment, designed to mimic a child's natural habitat of imagination and fun, Lucy was not just a participant in an audition but a kid given the freedom to simply be herself, a quality that the director hoped to capture in the photographs. As the director warmly congratulated Lucy on her performance and assured them they would be in touch, a wave of excitement and relief washed over the family. The whirlwind of the audition had left little room for anything else in their minds. It wasn't until they stepped out into the sunlight of the parking lot that Anne, Peter, and Lucy realized they had forgotten to change Lucy back into her clothes, and she was still clad only in her diaper. Quickly, they retrieved Lucy's favorite red dress from the bag they'd brought along. In a quiet corner of the parking lot, with her parents shielding her from the view of passersby, Lucy slipped her arms through the dress. They decided to keep the diaper on for the moment, considering it a minor oversight in the grand scheme of the day's events. With Lucy now comfortably dressed in her red dress, the family shared a moment of laughter at the oversight, a light-hearted end to an otherwise nerve-wracking experience. It was a reminder of the day's surreal quality, from the unusual request at the audition to the whirlwind of emotions they'd navigated together. As they headed to their car, the tension that had built up over the day began to dissipate, leaving in its wake a sense of accomplishment and the shared hope for what might come next. The audition was over, but the experience and the memories they had made would stay with them, a story to be retold with smiles and laughter in the years to come. — Caught in the sluggish crawl of traffic, the city's rush hour at its peak, Lucy's voice cut through the quiet hum of the car, "I have to pee." Anne and Peter exchanged a look, the earlier oversight suddenly presenting a complicated convenience. With no exit in sight and the cars inching along at a painfully slow pace, Anne turned to Lucy, "Sweetie, if you really need to go, it's okay to use the diaper. We're stuck right now, and it's alright." Lucy, her discomfort evident, wrestled with the idea. She was a big girl, after all, and the thought of using the diaper for the second time in one day was a hit to her pride. She was six, she reminded herself, too old for this, yet the slow crawl of traffic and the pressing need made the decision for her. As the realization settled that she had no other choice, Lucy took a deep breath, her decision made more out of necessity than desire. The moment she let go, allowing the diaper to fulfill its intended purpose, was one of silent concession. This time, the sensation was no longer unfamiliar, but it carried a different weight this time—a mixture of resignation and gratitude for the option. The warmth spread with a soft familiarity, the diaper doing its job just as intended. This second experience, though not novel, brought a nuanced comfort in the midst of inconvenience, a testament to its intended purpose being fulfilled under less than ideal circumstances. By the time they made it home, the relief of being out of the car was tinged with the discomfort of the situation. Anne quickly ushered Lucy to her room for some much-needed privacy and comfort. Standing there, Anne realized she was still holding the package of diapers from the audition. The day's events replayed in her mind, the odd mix of nostalgia and practicality as she had changed Lucy earlier. It was a reminder of times long passed, yet here they were, faced with a choice that seemed to blur the lines between past and present. Anne laid out both a fresh diaper and Lucy's underwear, the two options symbolizing more than just a choice of clothing but a question of moving forward from the day's unusual circumstances. She held them up to Lucy, offering her the decision. "What would you like to wear, honey?" Anne asked, her tone gentle, leaving the choice entirely in Lucy's hands. Lucy's hesitation was a silent communication, her young mind teetering on the brink of comfort and the desire for independence. The memory of the car ride, where the diaper had served a useful purpose in traffic, lingered in her thoughts. Yet, it was the recollection of the audition, the public setting that had amplified her embarrassment, contrasted with the tender care her mother provided, which stirred a deeper reflection within her. Anne, ever attentive to her daughter's cues, recognized the uncertainty that flickered across Lucy's face. In that moment, she understood that sometimes, the comfort and security a child seeks isn't just about the physical. It was about the feeling of being cared for, the undivided attention and love that a parent provides, especially in moments of vulnerability. With a decisive but gentle motion, Anne placed Lucy's underwear back in the drawer, choosing instead to offer her daughter that sense of safety and attention she seemed to be yearning for. Laying Lucy down on her bed, Anne proceeded with the change, transforming the routine into an act of care, imbued with the warmth and love that had always defined their relationship. This moment, far removed from the public eyes of the audition, was a return to the simple yet profound connection between parent and child. The room, filled with the soft afternoon light, became a sanctuary where worries about appearances and judgments were left at the door, allowing Lucy to bask in the comfort and security of her mother's love.

Chapter 1: This can't be real. "Ashley, did you remember to pack the camera for your sister?" Steve yelled while adding things to their car for their road trip. "Got it!" Ashley called back, lugging a heavy suitcase towards the car. She had packed meticulously, ensuring they had everything they needed for their week-long getaway. As she approached the car, she noticed Steve struggling with a large cooler. "Let me help you with that," she said, setting down the suitcase and moving to assist him. Together, they managed to load the cooler into the trunk, making space for the rest of their luggage. "Thanks, Ash," Steve said, wiping sweat from his brow. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Ashley smiled, feeling a warm sense of contentment. She loved moments like these, simple and mundane yet filled with a sense of togetherness. As they finished loading the car, Ashley glanced at the time. "We should get going if we want to make it to Sarah's before dark," she said, referring to her sister. "She's expecting us to drop off the camera today." Steve nodded, closing the trunk. "Let's hit the road, then. I can't wait to get to the cabin and relax." With everything packed and ready, they climbed into the car, the engine roaring to life as Steve turned the key. As they drove off, the sun shining brightly overhead, Ashley couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. It was their 4th year anniversary of dating each other. She was confident he was going to propose while out at the cabin. As they left the city, traffic grew heavier, and Steve, always the impatient one, decided to take a detour through the backroads to avoid the congestion. The scenic route wound through the mountains, offering breathtaking views of the rugged landscape. "Steve, do you know where we are going? We've never gone this way before to visit my sister." Ashley asked concerned they were going to be late. "Don't worry about it; the road has to connect at some point," he said nonchalantly. "If you say so," she replied, pulling out her phone. "Hey Sarah, we're going to be late. Steve is taking a new road this time. He's being his "adorable" self and refusing to listen to the GPS or his navigator, lol," Ashley texted her sister. Hours had gone by at this point, as they ascended higher into the mountains, their cell signal began to fade, eventually disappearing altogether. "I think we should turn back Steve," Ashley told him, concerned they might have gone too far without cell service. It's already been an hour since the last time she could do anything on her phone. Despite Ashley's protests, Steve assured her that they would soon find their way back to civilization. However, his optimism dwindled as the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the desolate road. With no cell service and no GPS to guide them. Steve admitted defeat. "Okay, maybe you're right. I'll stop at the next gas station or something and ask for directions." "Or, you know we could turn around?" "How? This road isn't wide enough for me to do that." They continued down the desolate road in silence; their nerves grew with each passing minute without an opportunity to turn back around. The fading light of dusk painted the landscape in eerie shadows, heightening their sense of isolation. Suddenly, with a sputter, their car lurched to a halt, billowing smoke from beneath the hood. Steve's heart sank as he stared at the dashboard, hoping for some sign of life from the engine. Only to see the check engine light and the red lining of the temperature gauge. The silence that followed was deafening. Ashley unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, stretching her legs and taking in their surroundings. She let out a frustrated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her phone, now displaying a bleak "No Service" message. "We should start walking," Steve said, forcing confidence into his voice as he opened the car door and stepped out onto the gravel shoulder. "Maybe there's a gas station or a house nearby where we can ask for help." Ashley nodded, though her eyes betrayed her growing unease. They began to walk up the road, the fading light casting long shadows ahead of them. The air was thick with the scent of pine trees and the distant hum of crickets. After what felt like an eternity, they came across an old, abandoned house nestled among the trees. The windows were boarded up, and the front porch sagged under the weight of neglect. Moss and leaflitter had overcome the roof nearly entirely. Ivy stretched up one side of the house threatening to overtake the decrepit structure. Steve hesitated, looking at the house and the setting sun, a sense of foreboding settling over him like a shroud. "We should keep going," he suggested, his voice tight with unease. Ashley hesitated an urgency in her bladder demanding her attention. "I have to go," she whispered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "And it's getting dark. We'll just go in, use the bathroom, and leave." Reluctantly, Steve nodded, his stomach churning with apprehension as they approached the crumbling porch. Couldn't she just go by a bush? The door creaked open with a rusty groan, revealing a dimly lit interior choked with dust and cobwebs. As they stepped inside, a chill wind whispered through the empty rooms, sending shivers down their spines. Suddenly, the door behind them slammed shut. WHAM Ashley and Steve both jumped at the loud noise, turning to see the door closed. Steve nervously scanned the dimly lit interior, his hand instinctively reaching for Ashley's. "Must've been some strong wind," he muttered, trying to rationalize the sudden slamming of the door. Ashley nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to suppress the rising panic. "Yeah, let's just find the bathroom and get out of here," she agreed, her voice trembling slightly. Standing in the hallway, their senses were on high alert, every creak and groan of the old house setting their nerves on edge. Ashley was about to take another step down the hallway when a sudden movement caught her eye. Turning towards the source of the disturbance, she froze in terror as a figure emerged from the shadows—a grotesque, life-sized mannequin with hollow eyes and a frozen smile. "Welcome, little ones," it cooed, its voice like nails on a chalkboard. "It's time to play!" Steve and Ashley's hearts pounded in their chests as the figure began charging towards them frantically. Waving its arms about wildly. They froze on the spot, their minds unable to comprehend the surreal situation unfolding before them. Closing their eyes, they braced themselves for the inevitable. Suddenly, the mannequin's voice softened, sending a chill down their spines. "Uh-oh, looks like someone snuck their way out of the playroom," it said, its tone almost playful. "You two should know better. You wouldn't want to get in trouble, now would we?" Its smile widened to an unnatural length. Confused, Steve and Ashley cautiously opened their eyes. To their astonishment, the mannequin now loomed large before them, towering over them like a giant. The entire house had transformed, everything around them appearing larger than life. They were no longer their adult selves but had shrunk down to the size of toddlers, surrounded by oversized furniture and toys. Steve and Ashley blinked in disbelief, trying to make sense of their surreal surroundings. They realized that the abandoned house had undergone a dramatic transformation. What was once a decrepit, abandoned building now appeared pristine and inviting, as if frozen in time from its heyday as a bustling daycare center. The walls were painted in bright, cheerful colors and adorned with whimsical murals of smiling animals and playful children. Sunshine streamed in through large windows, casting warm, golden rays across the room, nothing like the outside they had just come from. Toys were neatly arranged in colorful bins, and child-sized furniture dotted the space. There was a cubby system across from the stairs in front of them, where kids hung their coats and placed their shoes. But despite the seemingly idyllic atmosphere, a sense of unease lingered in the air. The silence that filled the room was heavy with the weight of the unknown, and a creeping sense of dread clawed at the edges of their consciousness. "What... what's happening?" Ashley whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she clung to Steve's hand, her eyes wide with fear. Steve shook his head, his mind reeling with disbelief. "I-I don't know," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty and fear."This can't be real." The mannequin chuckled, its voice echoing through the room. "Oh, but it is, my dears," it said, its eyes gleaming with an eerie light. "You're here to play, just like all the other little ones who came before you." As the realization of their predicament sank in, Ashley and Steve exchanged a terrified glance, their hearts pounding in their chests. They turned towards the door, desperate to escape, but to their horror, they found that the once easily reachable doorknob was now far beyond their grasp, towering above them like a monument to their helplessness. "We need to get out of here," Ashley cried, her voice tinged with panic as she tugged futilely at the door. "This can't be happening." Steve's mind raced, trying to make sense of their surreal situation. "There's no way out," his voice trembling with fear as he scanned the room for an escape route. The mannequin's voice cut through the air, sending a chill down their spines. "I'm afraid leaving is not an option, my dears," it said, its tone eerily calm. "You see, you're here to play, and play you shall." Steve and Ashley turned towards the mannequin, their eyes wide with fear and their backs pressed up against the door. It approached them, its towering figure casting a long shadow over them. Ashley's heart sank as she felt a warm trickle down her leg, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realized she was wetting her pants in fear. The mannequin chuckled, its voice echoing through the room. "Looks like someone had an accident," it said, its eyes gleaming with an unsettling light. "No matter, we'll get you cleaned up in no time." With a swift motion, the mannequin scooped up Steve and Ashley in its enormous arms, carrying them away from the door and up the stairs into the daycare. Steve and Ashley struggled against its grip, but it was no use. They were at the mercy of the supernatural force that held them captive. As they were carried through the daycare, they passed by a room with empty cribs and playpens, their surroundings a surreal mix of childhood innocence and eerie abandonment. The mannequin brought them to a brightly lit room filled with changing tables and stacks of diapers, a hint to their new reality. "Now, now, little ones," the mannequin cooed, placing them on the changing tables. "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for playtime." Steve and Ashley exchanged a terrified glance, their minds reeling with fear and confusion. How had they ended up in this nightmare? And more importantly, was there a way out? Chapter 2: Changed Steve's heart raced as he struggled against the firm grip of the mannequin, his muscles straining with effort. He twisted and turned, desperate to break free, but its hold on him was unyielding. Ashley, stunned by the event that had unfolded, froze. Her eyes were wide with fear, tears streaming down her face. But she made no sound, too shocked by the sudden events. "Let us go!" Steve shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "This isn't right! We need to leave!" But his words fell on deaf ears as the feminine figure carried them up the stairs, its movements slow and deliberate. Steve's heart sank as he realized the futility of their situation. They were at the mercy of a supernatural force, trapped in a nightmare. As they reached the top of the stairs, the mannequin carried them into a brightly lit room, the walls adorned with colorful murals of children's finger paintings. Some of them clearly cries for help, with large red letters on some of the drawings reading "LET ME GO" and "HELP!" Diaper boxes lined the walls, with two changing tables. One at the end of the wall, with a dresser adjacent to it. Across the room was a large playpen with nothing in it, almost like it was meant to be a holding cell. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Steve twisted and wiggled, managing to slip out of the mannequin's hold. He fell towards the ground, his heart pounding in his chest, only to be caught once again as the mannequin's grip tightened around him. As he dangled in the air, he met the mannequin's gaze, his eyes widening in terror as its face contorted into a grotesque expression before snapping back to its benign facade. The room around them seemed to warp and shift, along with its face. The walls pulsating with otherworldly energy. Steve's breath caught in his throat as he struggled to comprehend the surreal scene unfolding before him. The mannequin's voice echoed in his mind, its words soft yet chilling. "You need to be more careful, little one," its tone syrupy sweet yet laced with menace. "You wouldn't want to get into trouble, would you?" Steve's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to make sense of the situation. "What do you want from us?" he demanded, his voice trembling with fear and confusion. But the mannequin remained silent, its painted lips curled into a twisted smile. With a flicker of movement, it released Steve from its grasp, setting him down into the playpen across from the table. "You need to wait your turn, young man," it whispered, sending shivers down Steve's spine. The mannequin then turned back to the table, placing Ashley on the changing table, its movements gentle. Ashley snapped out of her shock as she realized what the mannequin was trying to do. She started to struggle against its grip. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear gripping her. She watched in terror as the mannequin's hands reached for her, its touch cold and unnerving. With a swift motion, it began to undress her, stripping her of her clothes with a mechanical precision that sent shivers down her spine. "Please, let us go," Ashley pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. "We don't belong here. We just want to go home." The mannequin pressed Ashley to the changing table firmly, pulled out the straps, and tied her down to it. "I'm sorry, sweetie, only your parents can pick you up from the daycare. But It's okay; we'll take really good care of you until they get here." Its voice felt unsettling, ringing in their ears. It sounded sweet yet menacing. What is the deal with this thing? Ashley struggled against the restraints on the changing table, panic rising within her. Frantically, she attempted to undo the straps, her fingers fumbling with the buckles. "Steve, please help me!" she cried out, her voice choked with fear and desperation. But Steve was stuck in the playpen, his attempts to escape proving futile. He watched helplessly, clinging to the rim of the pen on his tiptoes, his heart aching with fear for Ashley. He watched in horror as her wet pants were removed and discarded. Ashley's eyes darted to her phone as it fell out of her pocket, a glimmer of hope flickering within her. But her hope was short-lived as the mannequin's voice filled the room, its tone stern and unsettling. "Phones are for grown-ups, little one," it admonished, its words echoing in her mind. "Children aren't allowed to play with them." With a deft movement, the mannequin picked up Ashley's phone and placed it on a shelf above the changing table, far out of her reach. Ashley's heart sank as she realized her only lifeline to the outside world was beyond her grasp. She quickly looked toward Steve, hoping he could find a way to hide his phone. Maybe they could use his to escape? As the mannequin continued to undress her, Ashley's mind raced with fear and uncertainty. She was truly at the mercy of this twisted entity, trapped in a nightmare from which she could not wake. Steve, seeing how it handled the situation with the phone and the look Ashley gave him, began to look for a place he could stash his. He knew he had to do something, anything, to keep it away from it. But as he looked around the room, all he saw was the colorful murals and the ominous diaper boxes lining the walls. Steve looked back at Ashley, meeting her gaze. He was shocked to his core. The mannequin had completely stripped her down. She was naked! Mortification and frustration boiled within him. No one was allowed to do that to her except him! Fear set in as he realized, however, that there was no way he could hide his phone on himself, not with it stripping them down to their birthday suits. He could see her face bright red with humiliation from what was unfolding. The mannequin then reached down to the shelf right below the table Ashley was on, grabbing a rectangular object that looked to be folded. "There we go, all clean now. Time to get you dressed for the day. Now, do you want to wear the princesses or the flowers, deary?" The mannequin was holding two diapers, both in bright pink. Ashley started to scream. "No! No! No! You can't do this! I don't want to wear a diaper! No!" She screamed, her pleas falling on deaf ears. "Calm down, sweetie. You'll be able to get back to playing in no time." The mannequin placed the pink flower diaper on the shelf below, setting it aside for another time. "We'll go with princesses today for the little princess who played dress up." The mannequin unfolded the diaper and lifted Ashley's legs up to slide the diaper under her bare butt. Ashley's eyes flooded with tears. Here she was, a 23-year-old woman getting put in a diaper. Every second felt painstakingly slow. She felt the mannequin lower her back onto the diaper. It was shockingly soft, softer than she would have expected. The mannequin pulled the front of the diaper up, covering her privates. The bulkiness of the material was hard to ignore. Finally, it reached to the side to grab the tape and, one by one, taped the diaper around her waist. "There we go, nice fresh diaper for the little miss. I got the perfect outfit for you, too." The mannequin cooed lovingly as if it was playing dress-up with a doll. "Here we are!" It held out a bright pink frilly dress romper. It had a zipper at the back, making it hard for little ones to remove it independently. The mannequin slid the romper up Ashley's legs, getting her feet through the leg holes, pulling up as far as it could with her still lying down. It then unbuckled her, standing her up, placing her arms through the arm holes, and finally zippering up the back to hold it all in place. "Don't you look pretty?" The mannequin smiled with a genuine smile of satisfaction at how cute she looked. Steve had a clear line of sight to Ashley; she looked just like a toddler, and even her chest looked flat in that dress. "No!" Steve shouted, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and defiance. "I won't let you do this to us! We're not children! We're adults, damn it!" The mannequin's painted lips twisted into a scowl at Steve's outburst, its eyes narrowing with displeasure. With a slow, deliberate movement, it turned its head away from Ashley, whose eyes were filled with terror at the sight of the mannequin's face. Slowly, it turned its head towards Steve, its expression morphing into a grotesque visage that sent shivers down his spine. "Young man, we do not use such language in this daycare," the mannequin's voice rang out, icy and menacing. "You must learn to behave yourself. Such attitudes will not be tolerated." Before Steve could react, the mannequin twisted its body and charged toward him with surprising speed, its movements unnaturally swift. Steve's heart pounded in his chest as he braced himself for the impact, his mind racing with fear and desperation. The mannequin's cold hands closed around him. With a sudden, violent motion, the mannequin lifted Steve into the air, its grip unyielding. Steve struggled against its hold, his muscles straining with effort, but it was futile. The mannequin's strength was beyond human, its power seemingly limitless. As Steve dangled in the air, his mind raced with fear and desperation. He cast a frantic glance towards Ashley, his eyes pleading for her help. But Ashley could only watch helplessly, her heart pounding in her chest. Thinking fast, Steve seized the opportunity to act. With a quick, desperate motion, he fumbled for his phone in his pocket, his fingers closing around the familiar device. With a swift motion, he hurled it towards Ashley. Ashley's eyes widened in surprise as she caught the phone, her fingers trembling with adrenaline. She tucked it into the front of her dress, securely held in place between the soft fabric and her squished chest, concealing it from view. Her heart raced with hope as she realized they might have a chance to escape this nightmare after all. As Ashley quickly jumped off the changing table, her heart pounding in her chest, she felt the frilly fabric of the romper swish around her legs with each step. The sensation was strange and unfamiliar, the soft material tickling her skin. But there was no time to dwell on her discomfort; Steve's safety was her top priority. With determination blazing in her eyes, Ashley sprinted towards Steve, her feet stumbling slightly on the unfamiliar terrain of the daycare floor. Every movement felt exaggerated in the oversized romper, the ruffles bouncing with each step. As she neared, she could see the fear etched on Steve's face, his eyes pleading for her help. Without hesitation, she raised her foot and delivered a swift, powerful kick to the back of the mannequin's knee. The impact sent a jolt of pain shooting up her leg, but she ignored it, focusing all her strength on the task at hand. The mannequin let out a mechanical groan as its artificial joints buckled beneath the force of Ashley's blow. It stumbled forward, its grip on Steve loosening as it struggled to maintain its balance. For a brief moment, it teetered on the brink of collapse, its plastic limbs flailing wildly as it fought to regain its footing. Seizing the opportunity, Steve wriggled free from the mannequin's grasp, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he stumbled backward, his limbs trembling with exertion. He cast a grateful glance towards Ashley, his eyes filled with relief and gratitude. Together, they watched as the mannequin stumbled forward, its balance precarious. The mannequin teetered on the brink of falling, its arms flailing wildly. Steve and Ashley exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. Together, they turned and fled, their footsteps echoing through the deserted corridors of the daycare. Behind them, the mannequin let out a mechanical screech of rage, its eyes glowing with malevolent fury as it gave chase. The world around them had warped again, back to its abandoned state, the facade of the daycare gone. Terrified, Steve and Ashley refused to look back. As Ashley and Steve descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence, a sense of urgency gripped them. They dared a quick glance back and saw the mannequin, now moving on all fours with unnerving speed, closing the distance between them. Panic surged through their veins, propelling them forward faster. But in their haste, they failed to watch their surroundings. Without warning, they collided with something solid, sending them both sprawling to the ground. As they recovered from the impact and looked up, they were met with the sight of another mannequin, different from the menacing one chasing them. This mannequin had a soft, caring smile, its eyes filled with warmth and understanding. It seemed to radiate a sense of calm amidst the chaos surrounding them. The daycare around them had transformed once again, returning to its pristine state, as if nothing had happened. As the new mannequin approached, its soft, caring smile seemed to put Ashley and Steve at ease, despite their recent ordeal. They scrambled to their feet, their eyes flickering between the two mannequins, unsure of what to expect. "It looks like we've had some runaways," the new mannequin said with a chuckle, its voice soothing and gentle. It then turned, looking back upstairs to the other mannequin. "Are you alright, Nyxara?" Nyxara, the once-menacing mannequin at the top of the stairs, now stood in its pristine form, its grotesque and menacing presence seemingly erased. It smiled warmly down at the new mannequin, its eyes filled with a sense of relief. "Yes, I'm alright, Elysia," Nyxara replied, her voice now calm and reassuring. "Thank you for the assistance. These two are a bit more... rowdy." Elysia knelt down in front of Steve and Ashley, her expression kind and gentle. "You two shouldn't run off like that," she said softly. "You could get hurt. But don't worry Nyxara and I are here to keep you safe and entertained until your mommies and daddies come back to pick you up." Steve and Ashley exchanged a puzzled glance. "Mommy and Daddy?" Steve repeated, his voice tinged with confusion. "What are you talking about? We're not children," Steve protested, his voice tinged with frustration. "We're adults. We don't need babysitters." Elysia giggled at Steve's protest, her smile never faltering. "Oh, sweetie, you only think you're an adult because of playing dress-up," she said gently. "But don't worry Nyxara and I are here to take care of you now. It's time to change back into your proper clothes." Elysia picked Steve up, cradling him in her arms as she headed back upstairs. Steve struggled against her hold, his protests growing louder. "No, let me go! I'm not a child!" he cried, his voice filled with frustration and fear. Nyxara descended the stairs. Her gaze fell upon Ashley, who stood frozen in fear. Her heart sank. She watched in despair as the figure approached, its arms outstretched, ready to pick her up. Ashley instinctively stepped back, her eyes pleading for mercy, but it's expression remained unchanged, it's smile warm but unwavering. With a gentle yet firm grip, the monster like creature scooped Ashley into its arms, her touch surprisingly warm for a mannequin. Ashley's heart raced as she was carried away. She looked over her captor's shoulder, locking eyes with Steve, who was now in Elysia's care, being comforted in a way that made him feel embarrassed and frustrated. They reached out to each other, their hands stretching towards one another, but the distance between them grew with each passing step. Steve's protests grew louder as Elysia cooed soothing words to him, attempting to calm his fears. "Shh, shh, it's okay, sweetheart," Elysia murmured, rocking Steve gently in her arms. "There's no need to cry. I'm here to take care of you." Steve's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being treated like a baby. Despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, tears welled up in his eyes, betraying his facade of maturity. As Nyxara carried Ashley away, her heart felt like it was being torn apart. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her sobs echoing through the empty corridors of the daycare. She reached out desperately towards Steve, but he was already out of sight. Hearing the girl's cry about losing her friend she was playing dress-up with. Nyxara reassured the girl. "There, there, dear," she murmured, her voice soothing. "Don't cry. You'll see your friend again soon. But for now, let's go play with the other kids, shall we?" An innocent smile full of warmth grew on her face, feeling as if she was doing a good job taking care of the latest additions to the daycare. Chapter 3: Newfound Friends As Ashley was carried away, her mind raced with fear and confusion. She struggled against the mannequin's grip, but it was futile. She felt helpless, at the mercy of these strange and otherworldly beings. Nyxara held Ashley tightly as she stepped down the corridors of the daycare, eventually arriving at a brightly lit room filled with toys and games. Ashley's eyes widened in wonder and confusion as she took in her surroundings. The room seemed frozen in time, as if it was newly constructed or renovated, pristine in every aspect. As Nyxara gently set Ashley down on the floor, Ashley's eyes widened in shock as her gaze fell upon two figures sitting in the corner of the room. One was a woman who looked younger than herself, with long brown hair and a worried expression. The other was a middle-aged man with a rugged appearance and a look of resignation in his eyes. Both were the same small size as her and Steve, smaller than any average adult could be. Ashley approached them cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. "What the hell is going on here?" she asked panicly "Do you know where that thing took Steve? Do you know a way out?" The young woman and the man exchanged glances before shaking their heads. They remained silent, their eyes darting nervously towards the door. It was as if they were afraid to speak, as if there would be consequences. Frustrated by their silence, Ashley pressed on. "Please, you have to tell me something," she pleaded. "We need to find a way out of here. Do you know anything about this place? Who are those mannequins? What do they want with us?" They both remained silent, but the man slowly reached out and picked up a few toy blocks. With a deliberate motion, he arranged them on the floor to spell out two words: S-H-U-T U-P. Ashley's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Was he trying to warn her? Was he telling her to stop asking questions? Before she could react, Nyxara approached, her expression stern. "It's not polite to ask too many questions," Nyxara scolded gently, her tone surprisingly motherly. "We're here to play and have fun. Isn't that right, Kelly, Nick?" Kelly and Nick nodded in agreement, their expressions filled with a mixture of fear and acceptance. It was clear that they were afraid of Nyxara and what she might do if they disobeyed. Feeling defeated, Ashley backed away, her mind racing with unanswered questions. She glanced back towards the stairs, where Steve had disappeared, and felt a pang of sadness and longing. They were trapped in this nightmarish daycare, at the mercy of forces they couldn't understand or control. Ashley's heart raced as she looked back towards the man, who had spelled out "Shut up" with the toy blocks just moments ago. With trembling hands, she picked up the blocks and arranged them to spell out her name: A-S-H-L-E-Y. She held her breath, waiting for a response. Nick's eyes widened in surprise as he read her name spelled out in the blocks. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before rearranging the blocks to form his name: N-I-C-K Relief flooded through Ashley as she realized she had made a connection with one of the other trapped individuals. She felt a glimmer of hope that Nick might have some answers or insights into their situation. Gathering her courage, she formed another question with the blocks: W-H-E-R-E S-T-E-V-E. Nick's brow furrowed in concentration as he rearranged the blocks once more. With painstaking effort, he spelled out: M-O-T-H-E-R U-P-S-T-A-I-R-S. Ashley's stomach churned with unease at the mention of Steve being with the mannequin upstairs. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled over her since they arrived at the daycare. What was happening to Steve? Was he safe? And what did Nick mean by "mother"? Before Ashley could ask any of her questions, Nick hurriedly scrambled the blocks, erasing the words he had just spelled out, as the mannequin approached to check on them. Nyxara's expression softened as she observed the trio, a smile playing on her lips. "It warms my heart to see you all getting along," Nyxara said, her voice tinged with an eerie sweetness. "Isn't it wonderful to have friends to play with?" Ashley forced a smile, nodding weakly as she tried to suppress the rising anger within her. Luckily the mannequin didn't stick around, it was satisfied at their nods. Ashley glanced at the young woman sitting in the corner, who was curiously watching them. Feeling a sense of determination, Ashley approached the girl, her heart pounding in her chest. "Hi, I'm Ashley," she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. The girl's eyes widened in surprise, and then she hesitantly reached for the toy blocks scattered on the floor. With trembling hands, she arranged the blocks to spell out her name: K-E-L-L-Y. "Kelly," Ashley repeated, nodding in acknowledgment. "Do you know anything about this place? How did you end up here?" Kelly's expression grew somber as she shook her head, her eyes filled with sorrow. She seemed reluctant to speak, as if afraid of what might happen if she spoke too much. "Alright kiddies, you be good, I'm only going to be a minute." the menacing mannequin smiled, looking at the three of them in the corner. "It's snack time, and I bet you all are getting hungry" as it left the room to fetch snacks, Nick and Kelly leaned in close to Ashley, speaking in hushed whispers. "We don't have much time," Nick said, his voice urgent. "We need to be careful. Nyxara is very easy to anger. She's the one who decides when we get punished, and trust me, the simplest of things can set her off." "How long have you been here?" Ashley asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Nick glanced around nervously before replying, "I've lost track of time, but I think it's been about ten years. Kelly here has been here for a few weeks, I think." Kelly nodded, confirming Nick's words. "Yeah, it's been a few weeks. I... I don't know how much longer I can take this." "What do they want with us?" Ashley whispered, her voice trembling with fear at the realization that someone had been here for so long already. What hopes do they have to escape if someone who's been here ten years still hasn't found a way out? Nick glanced towards the door once more before answering. "I don't know for sure," he admitted. "But I've seen what happens to those who disobey. It's not pretty. We have to follow their rules if we want to survive." "What rules?" Ashley asked, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do we need to do to survive?" Nick continued to glance around nervously before answering each question. "First, we need to play along. Act like children, do what they say, and don't ask too many questions. Second, don't try to leave the daycare. The doors are locked, and if Nyxara catches you trying to escape... She'll punish you." Kelly added, "And whatever you do, don't anger Elysia. She's the other mannequin, the one who acts like a mother to us. She can be kind, but if she thinks you're a threat to the 'children,' she'll become... violent. That's how we lost David." Her eyes trailed off, a look of pure terror at whatever had taken place. Ashley's head spun with the weight of this new information. She had no idea what they had gotten themselves into. "What about Steve?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Is he in danger?" Before they could discuss further, Nyxara returned with a tray of snacks. She set it down in front of them, her smile bright and unnerving. "Here you go, my little ones," she said sweetly. "Enjoy your snacks, and remember to behave." Nick, with a forced smile plastered on his face, musters up a small voice, "Th-thank you, Miss Nyxara, for the snacks." He mimics the behavior of a grateful child, hoping to appease the unsettling presence before them. Kelly and Ashley remain silent, their expressions a mix of apprehension and obedience. Nyxara's smile widens at Nick's words, her eyes gleaming with an eerie delight. "You're welcome, sweetie," she coos, her tone saccharine yet tinged with an underlying threat. With a final glance at the trio, she turns and leaves to check on Steve, Nick leaned in closer to Ashley, his expression grave. "We need to be careful," Nick whispered urgently. "Elysia is different from Nyxara. She's... she's more motherly, but her love can be suffocating. She wants us to be her children and will do anything to she can to mother us, even if that means..." Nick's voice trailed off, but Ashley understood the implication. Elysia's protection could easily turn into possessiveness and violence. Just then, the door creaked open, and Steve was brought in by Elysia. His clothes had changed, now fitting for a toddler, and his expression was filled with concern. Ashley's heart sank at the sight of him, wondering what horrors he had endured. Steve glanced around the room, his eyes widening in shock as they landed on Ashley and the other two. He tried to speak, but he lost his words, realizing the mannequin was still there. Ashley rushed to his side, embracing him tightly, trying to offer him some comfort in this terrifying situation. "What... what is going on? Who are they?" Steve managed to stammer out, his voice trembling with fear. Ashley quickly explained what she had learned about the daycare from Nick. The little bit she learned about the two mannequins Nyxara, and Elysia, emphasizing the need to play along and not provoke the mannequins. Steve listened intently, his expression filled with disbelief and horror. As Ashley held Steve tightly, her mind raced with concern and questions. She wanted to know what had happened to him, what he had seen or experienced since they were separated. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw the fear and embarrassment reflected in them. "What happened to you, Steve?" Ashley whispered, her voice filled with concern. "Are you okay?" Steve shifted uncomfortably in her embrace, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I-I'm fine, Ash," he mumbled, unable to meet her gaze. "It's... it's basically the same thing that happened to you." Ashley felt a pang of sympathy for him. She knew how humiliating and degrading their experiences had been, forced to dress like toddlers, and placed in a diaper. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Steve's voice trembled as he looked into Ashley's eyes, desperation evident in his gaze. "Ashley, do you still have my phone?" he asked, trying to change the subject from their dire situation. Both Kelly and Nick's eyes widened at the question, their expressions mirroring Steve's hope. Ashley's mind raced as she remembered the phone tucked away in her dress, pinned to her chest between her breasts. She had completely forgotten about it in the chaos of their situation. "Yes, I still have it!" Ashley exclaimed, relief flooding through her. Steve's eyes lit up with hope. Ashley went to reach into her dress for it but stopped seeing Nick and Kelly looking at her. Feeling embarrassed, she turned around so her back faced them, providing a little privacy as she retrieved the phone from her dress. She handed it over to Steve so he could unlock his phone. Praying that there is a signal. They got into this whole mess because there wasn't any reception. What would be the odds of them having a signal now, of all times? The group huddled together, their hearts racing with a newfound hope as Steve unlocked his phone and discovered a single little bar. Each of them voiced their opinions on who Steve should contact for help. "We should call the police," Nick suggested, his voice filled with urgency. "They can come and rescue us from this nightmare." Ashley shook her head, her eyes darting nervously towards the door. "If we place a call they'll notice right away," she whispered. "We can't lose our chance if it catches us before we make contact." Steve furrowed his brow in thought, weighing their options carefully. "What about your sister, Sarah?" he suggested, turning to Ashley. "She might be able to help us without alerting anyone else." Ashley's eyes widened in realization. "That's a good idea," she said, agreeing. "Sarah knows about our trip and could come looking for us if we don't show up. Plus, she's close by and won't attract too much attention." With their decision made, Steve quickly drafted a distress message to Sarah, explaining their situation in as much detail as possible without trying to sound too crazy by revealing too much about the supernatural elements of their predicament. They debated the wording, making sure to convey the urgency of their situation on how they have been effectively kidnapped, and are being held hostage with no way of escape or being able to contact the athorities. But before they could hit send, a shadow began to loom over them. Nyxara's voice filled the room, her tone laced with anger and suspicion. "What are you kids up to?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the phone in Steve's hand. "What are you doing with that?" Nyxara demanded, her voice cold and menacing. "You know you're not allowed to have that. Give it to me, now." Steve hesitated, clutching the phone tightly in his hand. He knew they couldn't let Nyxara take it, but he also knew that defying her would have consequences. Before he could make a decision, Nyxara lunged forward, grabbing for the phone. Steve and Ashley struggled to keep it out of her reach, but Nyxara was too strong. With a swift motion, she snatched the phone from Steve's hand. "You disobedient children," Nyxara scolded, her voice filled with anger. "You know the rules. No phones. Those are for adults only!" You'll both be punished for this." Steve and Ashley exchanged worried glances, seeing the mannequin's face warp along with the daycare. Realizing they had just made a dangerous enemy. They knew they would have to be more careful than ever if they wanted to escape the daycare and survive. Before Steve could even formulate a response, Elysia intervened, her voice calm yet firm as she stepped forward to defend the frightened group of "children." "Now, now, Nyxara," Elysia interjected, her tone gentle yet authoritative. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Perhaps they were simply trying to decide what to do with the phone. After all, they are just children, and it's natural for them to be curious." Nyxara's eyes narrowed, clearly not convinced by Elysia's defense of the children. However, after a moment of tense silence, she seemed to relent. With a final glare at Steve and Ashley, she turned and headed upstairs, taking the phone with her. Steve and Ashley let out a sigh of relief, grateful for Elysia's intervention. However, they knew they had narrowly avoided a dangerous situation. They needed to be more cautious. Nick, seeing an opportunity to gain favor, turned to Elysia with a forced smile. "Thank you, Miss Elysia," he said, his voice filled with false cheerfulness. "We'll be sure to behave and not cause any more trouble." Elysia nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Of course, my dear," she replied, her tone soothing. "Just remember, we're all here to play and have fun. Now, why don't you all go and enjoy your snacks? I'm sure you must be hungry." Nick nodded obediently, then turned to Ashley and Steve, a look of concern on his face. "Did you manage to send the message?" he asked quietly. Steve shook his head, a look of disappointment crossing his features. "No, I couldn't," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "It took the phone before I could hit send." The whole group hung their head in defeat, now what are they going to do? They slowly began to shuffle their feet over towards the little table that sat in the playroom where their snacks were located. Suddenly, Steve doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach as a sharp pang shot through his abdomen. Ashley's eyes widened in alarm as she rushed to his side, her hands trembling with worry. "Steve, are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?" Chapter 4: A Bottle?! *Steve's point of view when they separated* Steve struggled against the mannequin's grasp, his heart pounding in his chest. He was filled with embarrassment, fear, and confusion. This couldn't be happening. They were adults, not children. But the more he protested, the tighter it held him, its comforting words trying to soothe him only made him angrier and angrier at the situation he found himself in. As they reached the top of the stairs, Steve's protests grew more desperate. "Please, let me go! We're not children!" he pleaded, but its smile remained unfazed. It carried him back into the changing room, lined with diaper boxes and changing tables. Setting him down gently on a changing table, it cooed, "It's time to get you cleaned up and changed, sweetie." Steve's face burned with embarrassment as it began to undress him, revealing his boxer briefs underneath his pants. He tried to resist, but its gentle yet firm touch made it impossible. It secured him to the table just as the other mannequin did with Ashley. He was stuck now; the straps were locked in a way that refused to budge for him, no matter how hard he tried. Steve refused just to let this happen; he refused to get diapered like Ashley. He threw his body around as much as he could in hopes of making it impossible for the mannequin to diaper him, but it was no use. It just proceeded as if dealing with a difficult child. It just continued to change Steve, cooing softly, "Oh, you must be hungry, that's why you're so fussy. Don't worry. We'll get you something to fill your belly after this." Steve's eyes widened with terror. If they were willing to diaper them because they thought they were children, what would it try to feed them? Not only that, but these things are otherworldly, who knows what this food even was. His embarrassment deepened further as he realized the mannequin was treating him like a toddler in need of care. With gentle efficiency, it removed Steve's shirt. He felt humiliated and helpless as it changed him and expertly fastened a fresh diaper around his waist. He tried to maintain his composure, but the situation was too surreal. He was a grown man being treated like a toddler, and there was nothing he could do about it. Then, he saw it grab a yellow duck onesie and a pair of tiny jean overalls, completing his transformation from a grown man to a toddler-like figure. As it finished diapering him, it smiled warmly. "There, now you're ready to play," it said cheerfully. "But first, let's get you that bottle" Before Steve could protest, it lifted him off of the changing table, and back into it's arms carrying him out of the room. Steve's mind raced with thoughts of escape, but his body was powerless against the mannequin's strength. It brought him into the nursery across the hall from the changing room. The room was filled with colorful toys, soft blankets, and a row of cribs along one wall. The mannequin placed Steve in one of the cribs before moving to the mini fridge in the corner. Steve watched in disbelief as the mannequin retrieved a bottle from the fridge and placed it in a bottle warmer. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He was a grown man, trapped in a nightmare where he was being treated like a helpless child. Steve's heart pounded as he watched the mannequin move about the nursery, his mind racing with desperation. He scanned the room frantically, searching for any sign of a way out, but all he saw were rows of cribs, the mini fridge in the corner, a sink, locked cabinets, and the imposing figure of the mannequin looming over him. There were no windows, other doors, or vents they could climb through. This room was a secure prison designed strictly for sleeping. His eyes flicked to the bars of the crib, his stomach churning with frustration. The bars were far too high for him to be able to climb out. He could try to get up and out, but realistically he knew doing so now, would be pointless, the mannequin would catch him, after taking two steps, there was no way he could escape it. How could they possibly escape this nightmare? It seemed like every avenue was blocked, every attempt at resistance futile. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his panic at bay. The mannequin returned to his side, a warm bottle in its hand, a sickly sweet smell emanating from its contents. Steve recoiled instinctively, his throat constricting with revulsion. He had no idea what was in that bottle, but he knew he couldn't trust it. The mannequin offered the bottle to Steve with a gentle smile. "Here you go, sweetie. Drink up. It's just warm milk," it cooed. Steve's eyes widen in worry. He is lactose intolerant, he can't drink milk, it messes with his stomach. He stood there staring at the mannequin, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to play with this twisted game, but he was also trapped in a crib too tall to escape from. The mannequin's smile faltered slightly as it noticed Steve's hesitation. "Come on now, sweetie," it urged, its tone still gentle but with a hint of impatience. "Don't be difficult. You need to drink your milk like a good little boy." Steve's mind raced as he weighed his options. Drinking the milk could have serious consequences for his lactose intolerance, but defying the mannequin could lead to unknown punishments or further confinement. Trapped in the crib with no means of escape, he felt a sense of helplessness wash over him. With a heavy heart, Steve reluctantly reached out for the bottle, his fingers trembling as he accepted it from the mannequin's grasp. The sickly, sweet smell assaulted his senses, making his stomach churn with unease. He glanced up at the mannequin, silently pleading for mercy, but its expression remained unmoved. As Steve slowly brought the bottle to his lips, he hesitated again, his inner turmoil evident in his furrowed brow. The mannequin's patience wore thin, and with a firm yet gentle grip, it lifted him from the crib and settled him in its arms, cradling him against its rigid form. Steve's heart pounded in his chest as he found himself ensnared in the mannequin's embrace, his muscles tense with apprehension. He wanted to resist, to fight against the unnatural force that held him captive, but he knew it was futile. He was at the mercy of the mannequin's whims, powerless to defy its will. Settling into a rocking chair, the mannequin began to sway back and forth, its movements rhythmic and soothing. Steve's breath caught in his throat as he felt the bottle pressed against his lips, the warmth of the liquid seeping through the bottle's nipple. With a sense of resignation, Steve reluctantly began to drink the milk. Each swallow was a struggle, his mind riveting at the thought of what it might do to his body. But the mannequin showed no signs of relenting, its grip unyielding as it forced him to consume the entire contents of the bottle. Tears welled up in Steve's eyes as he fought against the urge to retch. He felt like a helpless child being fed against his will, stripped of his autonomy and dignity. But no matter how much he resisted, the mannequin's hold remained firm, its eerie presence casting a shadow over him. As he sucked down the milk, the mannequin sat there, holding him. Staring into his eyes, lovingly watching him with a maternal gaze. "There, there, everything will be okay," she murmured, stroking his hair gently. Steve continued to drink the milk, feeling defeated and helpless in the mannequin's arms. As he reluctantly finished the bottle, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. The other mannequin from earlier, the one that took Ashley away, the darker and more menacing mannequin, entered the nursery, causing Steve's heart to race with fear. Its presence was unnerving, its cold, lifeless eyes scanning the room. Steve couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as he realized Ashley was missing from its side. Its gaze lingered on Steve briefly, sending a shiver down his spine before it turned to the mannequin holding him. "Elysia, the snacks for the kids are out," it stated in a gravelly voice, its tone devoid of warmth or emotion. Elysia, the mannequin holding him, smiled warmly. "Thank you, Nyxara. This one has already had his bottle, so he might not eat much," she replied, motioning towards Steve. Nyxara nodded silently before turning and leaving the nursery. Steve let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relieved that it had left without incident. The mannequin holding him then carried Steve downstairs to join the other "children." As they descended the stairs, Steve's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Ashley, among others who had been transformed into childlike figures. She looked just as bewildered and frightened as he felt. Chapter 5: A Messy Situation Steve's face contorted in pain as he doubled over, clutching his stomach. Ashley's heart raced with worry as she rushed to his side, her hands trembling with concern. "Steve, are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with alarm. "What's wrong?" Steve tried to brush off the issue, but his voice was strained with discomfort. "I-I'm fine, Ash," he mumbled, his face pale with pain. "It'll probably pass." But the sharp pang in his abdomen refused to be ignored. Steve's attempts to downplay the situation only made Ashley more concerned. She reached out to touch his forehead, checking for signs of fever, but before she could say anything, Elysia approached them, her eyes filled with concern. "What's the matter, little one?" Elysia asked, her voice gentle as she knelt beside Steve. "Are you feeling unwell?" Steve winced as Elysia's hand touched his forehead, her touch sending a shiver down his spine. He tried to pull away, but the figure's other hand shot out and clenched his bicep. She tilted her head, studying him with curiosity and concern. "What did you do to him!?" Ashley interjected, her voice filled with worry and panic. "He was fine before you took him upstairs." Elysia did not regard Ashley's concern, and her expression was sympathetic. "Poor thing," she murmured, her voice tinged with sorrow. "It must be hard for you, being away from your mommy and daddy." She completely ignored Ashley's questioning. Steve felt frustrated at the creature's words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He didn't want to admit to Ashley that he was fed a bottle like a baby, but he couldn't stand the thought of being talked down like he was a child. He tried to protest, to tell it that he wasn't a child and didn't need to be treated like one, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he nodded weakly, unable to meet it's gaze. Elysia's eyes softened with compassion as she reached out to pat Steve's back, her touch surprisingly comforting despite the circumstances. "There, there, little one," she murmured, her voice soothing. "Don't worry. Elysia is here to take care of you." But as Elysia tried to comfort him, Steve's stomach lurched with increasing intensity, sending waves of nausea coursing through his body. He gasped in pain, his face contorted with discomfort as he struggled to hold back the building pressure in his bowels. "I-I need to use the bathroom," Steve managed to stammered out, his voice strained with desperation. "Please, I need to go..." But Elysia seemed oblivious to Steve's distress, focusing solely on comforting him. She reached out to pick him up, her touch gentle as she lifted him into her arms. Steve's stomach churned with unease as she began to rock him back and forth, her movements only making the pressure in his bowels harder to hold in. "Shh, shh, it's okay, little one," Elysia murmured, her voice soothing yet distant. "Everything will be alright, you'll see." But Steve knew he couldn't wait any longer. The urge to use the bathroom was becoming unbearable. He struggled to break free from Elysia's grasp, his voice trembling with urgency. "I-I need to go," he insisted, his voice strained with desperation. "Please, let me go..." But Elysia seemed unable to understand Steve's words, and her focus was solely on comforting him. Steve's heart sank as he realized he was running out of time. Steve's stomach cramps intensified, and his eyes darted around the room in a panic. He caught sight of the other male in the group, unable to recall his name. His eyes were wide with understanding. Steve knew he must know why Elysia wasn't responding to his pleas. Steve recalled being told that the other man had been here longer; he must have learned how the mannequins responded and worked. But the man said nothing. Steve's desperation grew as he realized he couldn't hold on much longer. He wanted to reach out and beg for help, but he hesitated, unsure of what they might do or, more accurately, what they could do. These things were huge in comparison to them. Steve's face twisted in agony as the pressure in his bowels reached its breaking point. With a sickening realization, he knew he couldn't hold on any longer. His stomach clenched with a force he couldn't contain, and before he could even register what was happening, he felt the warmth spreading in his diaper. A warm, mushy sensation filled his diaper, the smell hitting him almost instantly. He gasped, mortified, as he accidentally shit himself for the first time since he was a kid. The hot, mushy diarrhea surged forth, filling the confines of his diaper with a sickening squelch. Steve's cheeks burned with humiliation as it was happening, his body betraying him in the most mortifying way possible. He whimpered in shame, unable to stop the humiliating torrent of mess. "O-oh no..." Steve whimpered, his voice filled with shame and embarrassment. He could feel the mess spreading, the diaper growing heavy and uncomfortable against his skin. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at Elysia, his cheeks burning with humiliation. Ashley's eyes widened in shock and horror as she watched Steve's distress unfold before her. The pained expression on his face, coupled with the sickening realization of what was happening, sent a wave of nausea churning in her stomach. She took a step back, her hands instinctively covering her mouth to stifle a gasp of disbelief. Kelly, who had been observing the scene with a mixture of concern and fear, recoiled slightly at the smell that filled the air. Her eyes darted between Steve and Ashley, a small look of disgust crossing her features. But beneath the disgust, there was a flicker of embarrassment, a memory resurfacing in her mind. Elysia's gentle teasing cut through the air, her voice light yet mocking. "Oh dear, it seems little Steve had a little accident," she remarked, her tone almost sing-song. "Such a messy little one, aren't you?" Steve's cheeks burned with shame as Elysia's words sank in. He could feel the weight of his messy diaper pressing against him, the warmth and smell serving as a reminder of his humiliating predicament. He wanted to protest, to tell Elysia that he wasn't a child and didn't need to be treated as such, but the words caught in his throat. How could he even say that when he was in her arms in a dirty diaper? Elysia's demeanor shifted slightly as she continued to speak, her voice softer yet tinged with authority. "It's alright, little one," she said. "We'll have to get you cleaned up and changed. But first, let's get you something to drink and some snacks. That should give you plenty of time to finish anything else still in your belly," she giggled. Steve could only stare at it in disbelief; not only did this thing just force him to shit himself, but it was going to make him stay in it till it deemed he could be changed! His cheeks burned with shame and resentment. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable squishiness of his diaper. But the smell, the warmth, it was all too much. He felt like a helpless child, unable to control his own body. Elysia set him back down on the ground, her touch seemed surprisingly gentle and caring despite the humiliating situation. Steve felt a rush of relief as he was freed from her grasp, but it was short-lived. The reality of his messy diaper felt like a ton of bricks, and he could feel tears stinging his eyes. Steve's gaze fell on Ashley as his tormentor turned away to attend to something else. Her expression was a mix of shock, disgust, and pity. Steve felt a lump form in his throat as he realized how she must see him now, as a helpless, soiled child. He wanted to explain, to tell her it was because of the milk, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was too embarrassed and in shock to say anything. He stood there in front of the others, feeling utterly humiliated and vulnerable, his mind flooded with embarrassment. His stomach still churned from being forced to consume milk, but now embarrassment added to his discomfort. He desperately wished he could disappear, to escape from this nightmare. But trapped in this bizarre reality, there was nowhere to run, no way to hide from the humiliation. Ashley hovered nearby, her expression torn between concern for Steve and disgust at the situation. She wanted to comfort and reassure him that everything would be alright, but seeing him in a messy diaper was too much to bear. She glanced at Nick and Kelly, silently pleading for some form of understanding or support. Nick's gaze met Ashley's, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of empathy in his eyes. But before she could say anything, the mannequin returned, interrupting the tense silence with her cheerful demeanor. "Alright, little ones, that's enough dilly-dallying. Go eat your snacks." Elysia chirped, her voice bubbly as she set a high chair tray of snacks on the table next to their snacks. "I've got some yummy treats for you all to enjoy." The figure ushered them towards the table. Ashley looked at Steve sympathetically, her heart aching for him. But as they approached the table, her attention was diverted by a bottle of milk sitting next to the highchair. Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god," Ashley whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of Elysia bustling around. "Steve, the milk... That's why..." Steve's eyes went wide with horror as he realized there was another bottle of milk. His stomach was still agitated from the first bottle; what would a second one do to his stomach and bowels? The thought of drinking it now, in his current state, filled him with dread and disgust. Especially with others around. He couldn't, not again. But before he could do anything, Elysia approached him with the bottle, her smile bright and cheerful. "Here you go, little one," she said, her voice sweet yet tinged with authority. "A nice bottle of milk to help keep you hydrated. Isn't that nice?" Steve's stomach churned with unease as he stared at the bottle, his mind racing with fear. He wanted to refuse, to push it away, or at least tell them he couldn't drink milk. But the fear of what would happen if he was difficult for them kept him frozen. Until his brain finally kicked back in. Desperate for escape, Steve made a sudden dash towards the door, his heart pounding with adrenaline. But before he could reach it, a hand shot out, catching him by the arm with surprising strength. "Uh-uh, little one," Elysia scolded, her voice firm yet gentle. "You know you're not allowed to wander off by yourself. It's not safe. Besides, we need to make your tummy feel better. You need to stay hydrated and drink as much as possible." Steve's heart sank as he realized his escape attempt had failed. He hung his head in defeat as it led him to the highchair, her grip firm. As Steve felt guided towards the highchair, panic surged through his veins. He couldn't bear the thought of being strapped into that humiliating contraption, especially with his messy diaper weighing him down, feeling it slightly sway with each step. His mind raced with desperate thoughts of escape, but the figure's hold on him was unyielding. "No, no, please!" Steve pleaded, his voice trembling with fear and humiliation. He tried to pry its fingers from his arm with his free hand. "I-I don't want to go in there. Please, let me go!" But Elysia remained unmoved; its expression was that of a smiling, authoritative parent dealing with an unruly child. She gently guided Steve towards the highchair, her grip firm. Steve struggled against her grasp, his heart pounding in his chest as he fought against the inevitable. Ashley rushed to Steve's side, her hands reaching out to try and pull him away from Elysia. "Let him go!" she demanded, her voice filled with determination. "He can't handle lactose. It will only make him sick!" Ashley's attempt to intervene was met with a sudden and chilling presence. The darker mannequin appeared, her tall, imposing figure casting a shadow over the room. Her eyes glinted with a malevolent gleam as she surveyed the scene, her presence enough to send a shiver down Ashley's spine. "What's going on here?" Nyxara's voice was cold and commanding, sending a wave of fear through the group. Everyone quickly averted their gaze from Nyxara's chilling presence, and a tense silence settled over the room. Ashley's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the scene unfold, her hands trembling with fear. She knew they were at the mercy of these supernatural entities, and any attempt to defy them could have dire consequences. With a subtle yet commanding gesture from Nyxara, Elysia resumed her task of setting Steve up in the high chair. Steve's heart sank as he was scooped up, realizing there was no escaping his humiliating fate. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as Elysia's firm hold guided him toward the highchair. As he was set in the highchair, he couldn't suppress a whimper of humiliation. The squishy mess in his diaper shifted and spread, the warmth and wetness pressing against him from all sides. He could feel the mess oozing and squelching in ways he never thought possible, air bubbles escaping out the back and sending a sickening sensation down his spine. The smell of his own mess filled the air, a nauseating reminder of his humiliating predicament. Steve's cheeks burned with shame as he realized the others could smell it too, their expressions filled with disgust. He wanted to disappear, to escape from this nightmare of being trapped in a messy diaper in front of his girlfriend and strangers. But as Elysia secured the straps of the highchair around him, Steve knew there was no escape. He was completely at the mercy of these entities, powerless to resist their commands. Tears welled up in his eyes as he hung his head in defeat, the weight of his humiliation crushing down on him like a ton of bricks. Meanwhile, Ashley watched helplessly from the sidelines, her heart breaking for Steve. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, to reassure him that everything would be alright, but she knew there was nothing she could do. They were all trapped in this bizarre reality, subject to the whims of these otherworldly beings. Steve's heart pounded with fear and desperation as Elysia approached with the bottle. He couldn't bear the thought of drinking the milk, not after what happened last time. With a surge of panic, he reached out to knock the bottle from Elysia's grasp, sending it clattering to the floor. The room fell silent as the bottle rolled across the floor, the sound echoing in the tense atmosphere. Steve's heart raced as he braced himself for the repercussions of his actions. He expected Elysia to scold him, to punish him for his defiance. But what happened next caught him completely off guard. A chill swept through the room as Nyxara's imposing figure stepped forward, her eyes narrowed with a menacing glare. Steve shrank back in his seat, his heart pounding with fear as he met her gaze. He knew he had crossed a line. "Elysia," Nyxara's voice was cold and commanding, sending a shiver down Steve's spine. "It seems our little friend here needs a lesson in obedience." Elysia nodded obediently, her expression shifting from sympathy to determination. She reached down to retrieve the fallen bottle, her movements deliberate and purposeful. Steve's heart sank as he realized he had sealed his own fate. He had defied the rules of this twisted reality, and now he would have to pay the price. With a sense of dread, Steve watched as Elysia approached once again, the bottle held firmly in her grasp. He wanted to protest, to beg for mercy, but he knew it was futile. Elysia's smile was gone now, replaced by a stern expression as she held out the bottle to Steve. "Drink," she commanded, her voice firm yet cold. Steve hesitated, his hands trembling with fear. He knew he couldn't refuse, not with Nyxara's menacing presence looming over him. With a heavy heart, he reached out to take the bottle, his fingers closing around it with a sense of resignation. But as he brought the bottle to his lips, a wave of defiance surged through him. He couldn't let them break him, not without a fight. With a sudden burst, he threw the bottle aside once again, his heart pounding with adrenaline. Nyxara's eyes narrowed with fury as she watched the bottle clatter to the floor once more. "Enough," she growled, her voice dripping with menace. "You will drink, or you will suffer the consequences." Steve's heart raced as he met Nyxara's glare, his mind racing with fear and desperation. He knew he had pushed his luck too far, but he couldn't bring himself to submit. He refused to be treated like a helpless child, to be forced into submission by these creatures. But before he could muster a response, he felt a sudden pressure in his chest, like a weight pressing down on him from all sides. He gasped for air, his lungs burning with the effort as he struggled to breathe. Panic surged through him as he realized he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even scream. Nyxara's voice echoed in his mind, cold and commanding. "You will obey," she whispered, her words sending a chill down his spine. "Or you will suffer." Steve's world spun as he struggled against the invisible force holding him captive. He tried to fight back, to break free from Nyxara's control, but it was no use. He was completely at her mercy, powerless to resist her will. Nyxara claimed the bottle from the floor and forced it back into his grip. With a sense of resignation, Steve closed his eyes and forced himself to drink from the bottle, his throat burning with each swallow. He felt a surge of nausea rise up in his stomach, but he forced it down, knowing that defiance would only bring more suffering. As he drank, he felt a strange sense of detachment wash over him, like he was watching himself from a distance. He knew he was losing himself, giving in to the darkness that threatened to consume him. But he couldn't stop, couldn't fight back. He was trapped in this nightmare, powerless to escape. As the last drop of milk slid down his throat, Steve felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He slumped back in his seat, his vision swimming as he struggled to stay conscious. He knew he had lost this battle, that Nyxara had won. As darkness closed in around him, he couldn't help but wonder what other horrors awaited him in this twisted realm. Nyxara's gaze shifted to Elysia, her eyes cold and calculating. "Once the children finish with their snacks, bring Steve to me for his punishment," she commanded, her voice dripping with malice. Elysia nodded obediently, its expression devoid of emotion. She turned to Steve, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry, little one," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "But you must learn to listen. It's for your own good."

Do you deliberately drink more so you can wet your nappy more often and with larger amounts? Or do you carry on 'as normal' and don't do anything different? I currently can only wear nappies some days int he week and I deliberately drink more so I can enjoy the wet nappy sooner and for longer. Tea is my favourite. For some reason, drinking a hot cup of tea fast makes me wee sooner. I love the feel of the nappy saggy and heavy.

Found on another forum. Am I the only one seeing the clear outline of a diaper here, especially on the 1st attached pic? I'll be honest, I admire her actions & diapers are maybe a clever way for here to manage long sittings...giver her age (21), I doubt she's really struggling with bladder issues.

Cult of the climate,. Cult of the woke,.. Cult of vegan,.. Cult of the vaccine,.. Meanwhile the top 0.0001 percent have amassed power and wealth beyond imagining. While we are fighting amongst ourselves. And when their agenda is successful and plan complete. Do you think there will be a place there for all you brave cult warriors ?

https://dailydiapers.com/content/photos/updated_regularly/a003.html Been searching but can't seem to find it.

*Holds up four fingers* Three is the bestest age. You are old enough to get around and not be watched by mommy all the time, but you have no responsibilities. All you have to do is play.

Definitely toddler! 👦

She's quite open about being autistic but that's no reason to doubt her intellectual abilties, as for her "special school" she simply comes from a country that actually gives a damn about helping people, probably part of the reason she's working so hard to stop us from destroying ourselves.

Hey there. Thank you for this new chapter and the one before. Sorry for not commenting sooner as life pulled me away from the forum for a couple of weeks. The big reveals were well brought and it's good to have explanations for a some mysteries around Jenny and Horthensia. Sadly knowing things don't always make them better and recovery will be long. You sure know how to keep us on our toes with an other cliff hanger. Good luck with your construction, I know how this kind of project could be. With hope to read more when you can. Cheers !

Will it cut the cheese?

Chapter Two “Sorry, sorry–” Ai had grown used to moving around the room, but sudden disorientation still hits her this time–she’s not in the room anymore. She’s somewhere else entirely, and she has no time to appear disoriented. It’s pure luck that her endorphins didn’t carry over from the last moment she could remember, or her panicked state would have triggered an anxiety attack almost immediately. Aya is in front of her, moving forward with urgency, reaching out with a couple napkins wadded in her hand. Quickly, Ai shakes her head, scooting back. “Erm–” She tries to take in everything all at once. They’re in a break room, the kind that’s common across pretty much the whole world: there’s a fridge, a sink, a microwave. A few other people are eating lunch, workers in lab coats that she doesn’t recognize and doesn’t care to meet, because Aya has all her attention. Ai can remember Aya holding her down, pinning her in place, bringing down powerful blows on Ai’s thighs and diapered bottom. Then, she’d seemed so powerful, so immovable, but now she looks almost…subservient. The woman’s face is so full of urgent concern and a need to help that Ai’s initial impulse, to panic, quickly consumes itself. She is confused, but not afraid. It might be another trap, but if it is, Ai doesn’t understand it, and she doesn’t let herself work up any anxiety over nothing. Her lap is hot and wet, but that, too, is different from how she remembers. She’s not wearing a diaper, and the warmth has spread past her crotch, down her legs. It’s too warm, almost scalding. Looking down, she sees soup, bits of processed chicken and rubbery noodles spilled all over her lap, her pants soaked with hot broth all the way through and into her panties. The heat is enough to make her wince, but she ignores the pain and shakes her head, taking the napkins from Aya. “Eh–thank you.” “Sorry, just–” Aya starts, looking away. “Clumsy. And I feel bad.” “Why?” Ai asks. (Because you spanked me?) “Because–look, I know I was just playing a role, but it felt mean. And then…finding out it got shuttered the next day, how am I supposed to take it, except to think it’s my fault?” Ai doesn’t have time to think of a clever response, not as new information pounds into her brain, insisting she try and keep track of it all. The best she can manage is a noncommittal shrug. Aya looks away, exhaling through her nose, and she doesn’t look back for several seconds. “I’ll stop apologizing, just…sorry. No, sorry, I…this whole situation has me feeling so...I don’t know. She still looks like you the whole time, y’know? But I’m not supposed to treat you like you, and…it’s just a weird headspace to occupy.” Trying to keep her act going a little longer, Ai avoids a response, but it’s clear Aya wants to hear…something. Reassurance, maybe. Ai has an inkling of what’s going on, but she lacks certainty, and the wrong word could be disastrous. “If I may…” Ai starts, speaking slowly to buy time to think. Ultimately, she goes with her gut: If her hunch about the situation has any merit to it, she shouldn’t be kind. “It’s not my job to make you feel better. If your performance were a problem, I’d have said so, but you can work out your feelings in your own time. I need to go clean myself off.” Getting to her feet, she whirls, half to stride out of the break room, half to hide the uncertainty that’s painted onto her face. The move is vindicated a moment later, when Aya calls after her, “Hold on–Bala, wait.” Ai keeps walking, because now, the uncertainty has been promoted to panic. She doesn’t know the name, but she knows that it’s not her. Taking deep breaths, Ai walks out into the hallway, looking both ways. It’s painfully generic, as though whoever made this space never intended it to be seen, except by people who wouldn’t be impressed or even care about the surroundings. Without any indication of where she might need to go, she picks a direction at random, trying to look confident as she strolls down the hall. She knows a few things, by Sherlock-esque deduction. She knows that whenever she’s found herself in this…place, she’s been in a diaper, but more importantly, it’s always been a wet diaper. She can remember the sensation of just having wet herself, but not of being dry. Apparently, the rules that governed her counted any undergarments, not just diapers, and it didn’t care whether she’d soaked her panties with piss or chicken broth–wet was wet. She’d escaped from the curated experiences that had been made for her by sheer luck, but she won’t have much opportunity to use that freedom. The soup is drying quickly, already cool on her thighs, but she’s got a more urgent fear than that. Lab technicians– (Researchers? Scientists?) People in lab coats pass her in either direction, all giving nods of deference. She seems to be in charge, or at least in a position of authority. Too many people are paying attention to her, and Ai scrambles to think of a way to extend her brief bout of freedom. She needs to deal with the stain on her pants first, and ensure her mind will stay intact once the soup dries. Ai somehow doubts that she could excuse it if she pissed herself for all to see, so she needs protection, a way to be wet without being obvious. So, looking out for the nearest restroom with a dress-wearing stick figure on the door, she ducks inside. For once, she has a stroke of luck. Wherever she is, they don’t care for decor, but they care for hygiene. A dispenser on the wall holds pads and tampons, and she takes one of the former out before detouring to the nearest stall. Moving past the mirror, she makes a point not to look at it. She doesn’t want to deal with that yet. In the stall, she slips down her soup-covered pants, but takes care to keep her wet panties in place. If she screws this up, she won’t get another try. Fingers shaking, she removes the pad from its packaging and fumbles it into her panties, adding enough absorbent material that–she hoped–it would count. Now she just has to wet herself. Sitting on the toilet, it’s harder than she expects–she’d already been in a wet diaper, she’d even pooped in one, but convincing her body that she really, truly needs to wet her panties is another matter. She gets another stroke of luck. Someone comes in to wash their hands, and the sound of flowing water is enough to trick her brain into action. She floods the pad, and as it swells with pee, the excess trickling down into the toilet, she sighs in relief. Waiting until the dripping is done, until she’s sure nothing will leak into the pants, she gets up and flushes. There’s no putting it off now, she has to confront the truth. Ai steps out of the stall and faces her reflection. She isn’t wearing her own face, the face she knows. She’s not her. Ai stares at the face–the face she’d seen in the TV twice. First in the video, she’d seen the probably-Indian woman with the black hair stare at her with malice and condescension. Then, when the video had ended, she’d seen the same face stare back in her reflection, full of confusion and horror. She is her own tormenter, and staring into the bathroom mirror, she can’t escape that truth. It’s just what she saw before, when she looked at the TV screen, the image that’d driven her into a panic. She is not Ai. Her features are southeast asian, she has flowing black hair, and from her point of view, she’d seen the face curl up in a smug smile on a VHS tape not ten minutes prior. Ai isn’t here, not really. Bala stands in the bathroom, gazing at her own reflection, with Ai’s mind temporarily holding the steering wheel. She is, somehow, inside Bala, borrowing her body, living in it like a parasite. Only…parasites don’t get plucked from their own lives and forced into a host. She is something else. (A passenger.) That feels better, except passengers still chose to come on a voyage. (A prisoner.) Better. She inspects herself more thoroughly. Her clothes are pared down and professional, with a slightly scientific angle. She isn’t wearing scrubs exactly, but the style seems scrubs-adjacent. If she worked in STEM, Ai might know what to call it, but she has to go with her loose, half-accurate descriptions for now. No nametag, but she doesn’t need that. She knows whose face she wears. More interesting is the elastic, retractable lanyard on her waist, attached to a magnetic keycard. She has no way of telling which doors it can open, but surely it will open something. With a pee-soaked pad keeping her mind in place, she wipes her pants off to get rid of soup crud, washes her hands, and steels herself. If she gives herself away, she will probably wake up back in some room, some new chamber, being tortured for an unseen audience’s pleasure. Ai refuses to go back to that, not if she can help it. She needs information–she needs to know what’s going on, and how she can escape it. She has an idea for how to get that information, too, but it will require her to embody the woman who taunted her on the TV; a woman who seemed to be embody spite and cruelty, wanting nothing more than to torture Ai for reasons impossible to fathom. Ai can do that. After all her torture, she’s got some malice built up that she needs to vent. Stepping out into the hall, she spins on the first person she sees, some researcher or worker or it doesn’t matter. “You,” she snaps, pointing at them. They freeze, and whether it’s her posture or tone or purely from Bala’s reputation, Ai gets the ‘deer-in-headlights’ look she wanted. “Yes, ma’am!” they reply quickly, almost dropping the clipboard they’re holding. “Give me a status update,” she says, staying as vague as possible. “I know there’s a lot up in the air right now–I need to know the most up-to-date information.” Their eyebrows raise, fear driving their response. “I–I don’t know that, ma’am. I’m just getting off lunch, and–” “And, what?” She demands. “You think I want to hear excuses?” “No, but–” “But, but, but,” Ai interrupts. “If you can’t be prepared and ready to give an effective answer, I’m not going to wait on your timetable, no sir. Since you can’t answer my question right now, we will go to my office and you’ll stay there until you find out.” Bala’s office has to have the details she needs, Ai just needs access–and this poor figure in front of her can give her that access. Their eyes widen even further, the fear of being fired–or possibly worse. Ai doesn’t know how they treat bad employees here. They might put insubordinate workers through the same torture Ai had experienced, for all she knew. Nodding quickly, the employee stammers, “I–yes ma’am!” Ai waits a moment longer, raising one eyebrow and channeling impatience. “Well? After you.” The worker squeaks and turns without another word, and their effort to scamper forward and get this awkward situation over with pushes them to lead without question. Ai follows, hiding her satisfaction, as she gets directed straight to Bala’s office. The decor is as sparse as she’d come to expect, but it’s well stocked. A computer is on her desk–an iMac, the kind where the screen is about the size of a beach ball because it has all the computer parts built into it, and a phone sits next to it with all sorts of extra buttons for intercom and Ai-doesn’t-really-know. There’s even a rolodex–Bala is an organized administrator, it seems. “I…” the lab assistant stammers. Gesturing to the computer, Ai snaps, “Get to work. Use my phone, hell, drink my coffee while you’re at it, since I’m apparently waiting on you. Trust me: Waste enough of my time, and this will get personal.” She doesn’t have to say another word. The terrified figure gets onto her computer, logs in with an admin password, and quickly pulls up status reports from a lengthy chain of emails. “Okay–okay,” they say, their breathing coming fast. “I–Ma’am, I’m sorry.” “I won’t shoot the messenger,” she says, moving in to look. “The project’s been fully canned, they’re pulling funding and looking into other things,” they explain. “After your Alter Identity saw her reflection and had that panic attack, management decided that this wouldn’t be an effective route to regression after all. They already had doubts after seeing that the regression reverted between sessions, which–I mean–I’m sorry–they decided that it was taking the subject’s mental state in the wrong direction. Please don’t be mad at me. They–it’s just one failed experiment, you’ve still got authorization to pursue your other plans once this AI is erased. Ai tries not to sound too eager, too excited. “What happens to her after that?” “Oh.” They pause, uncertain. “I…that’s more your department, you’re the one who built it, but…doesn’t the AI kind of just stop?” Frowning, Ai makes a gesture with her hand for them to continue. “Stop?” “Well, she’s a constructed identity. She doesn’t really exist. Once you undo the conditioning, so that she can’t manifest, I kinda just assumed that the AI would…‘die’ isn’t the right word, but you get my meaning. Why are you asking me this?” “I meant, ‘What happens to the research we’ve conducted on her’,” Ai lies, screaming within her thoughts. “But, never mind. You’ve done what I asked. Get back to work and we won’t have to talk about this again.” “Yes ma’am,” they say, looking almost like they’re going to salute before simply getting up out of Bala’s office chair and hurrying out of the office. Ai stands there, stunned. If she gets caught, she won’t have to worry about being being tortured or humiliated. That would be bad, but being sent through humiliations, having her ass beaten bloody, being edged and tormented in diapers, it still seemed preferable to her new crisis. At least, if she was being forced to fill diapers and solve impossible puzzles, she’d get to exist. Facing the weight of this realization, Ai allows herself a brief moment to slip into a dissociative meltdown. There just doesn’t seem to be another reasonable course of action. She only exists in wet underwear, and if she cleans herself, if she takes off the piss-soaked pad in her panties, she’ll cease to exist forever. Nothing she can think of softens that blow–she’ll be caught, or she’ll have to change eventually, and when that happens, she will just be… Gone. For a moment, she sees herself there, just standing in the office, paralyzed by inaction. In the context of her circumstances, knowing how small and weak she is against the prospect of nonexistence, what else can she do? But the disassociation makes things worse. Seeing herself, thinking of herself as nothing but a body, it only reminds her that this isn’t even her body. Even the simple numbing remedy that comes from an out-of-body experience is denied to her, because she has no body to be out of, just a temporary residence. So, though she wants to break down and sob, there’s simply no opportunity. She bottles up her fear, her anxiety, her existential dread, and pushes it down into herself. Maybe, maybe, there’s a solution buried in Bala’s computer. Without any other plan, she sits down at the keyboard and begins pouring through the files. Bala is, to her relief, a meticulous woman, with all her files carefully labeled. Less helpfully, the projects all seem to have code names. She reads all the folders twice, trying to find the one relating to herself. Star Gazers. Cookie Clicker. Quiet Time. Coral Island. V's Guest. Jacqueline Hyde. Hello Nurse. There’s a few others, too, more blatant than the rest. Zoo. Language. Vulcan. On the second pass, Ai finally gets it. ‘Jacqueline Hyde.’ Jekyll and Hyde. Dual identities. “Right,” she whispers. “Duh. So much for a secret name.” Clicking on it, she starts to read. It doesn’t take long before she’s drowning in jargon, technical terms and descriptions of machinery she cannot understand. She’s not helpless, though. Ai is no scientist, but she’s not clueless. When she comes across a series of recordings, video logs labeled with dates and particular keywords, she feels a surge of hope. She clicks on the first one, and flinches involuntarily when she sees her borrowed face appear on the screen in compressed, low-quality video. The woman on screen, Bala, lacks the condescension she wore the last time Ai saw her. She’s standing tall, professional, a bit cold. “I’m recording this for posterity. Since I imagine anyone watching this won’t be interested or able to understand the technical elements, I’ll keep this simple. If you want to understand how the machine works, check the documentation.” Bala smiles, but Ai notices a touch of bitterness behind the expression. “As if they’re anything but babble. Glass tubes and sprockets and nonsense–the why doesn’t matter, it could have been magic or alchemy or nanotech. Aya makes it work. The important thing is the research, not the methods.” Backing up, she reveals a projection screen behind her and raises a clicker, though the slide she pulls up is so compressed by the video display as to be almost illegible. All Ai can make out is a vaguely human shape and skin-tone colors. “How can you tell which elements of regression therapy are most effective, and which are wasted time? If you’re successful, you can’t, because the only person who can tell you what worked on them is now incapable of expressing that information in any scientifically useful way.” Raising both hands to frame her face, she says in a mock tone, “‘Yes, and how did you respond to the spanking?’ ‘Goo gah guhh goo’. It’s not exactly rigorous.” Clicking the slide forward, a machine of some kind–steel and wires–pops up on the display. “That’s where the Versable comes in. I’ve had Aya create a universe in which we have access to the infinite span of worlds, and where we can tap into minds from alternate universes–those parallel to our own. We make copies of their minds. We could bring along their bodies, but that wouldn’t help–we may as well clone Ai, if we did that. To ensure we’re working with a clean slate, we strip the context of the identity, so that they have a form of amnesia–they’ll remember who they are, but not any specific events. We get the personality, but not the person, copied into a compliant host. We’re calling them ‘Artificial Identities’, and I so wish that there was someone in this universe who would get the joke.” Waving a hand, she moves things along. “With the right triggers implanted in the transverse personality requisition, we can make the identity come out in response to stimuli, and revert when that stimuli is gone. The host mind remembers everything, and can record the experiences after the fact. Now, all we have to do is find a compatible mind, bring it over, and see how it responds when we administer our regression experiments. So that’s the plan–find a compatible mind, bring it, break it.” A smile creeps over her face, spreading like a virus, and she adds quietly, “And I know exactly what mind we’ll be breaking.” The video comes to an end, and Ai sees Bala’s face reflected in the black screen for a moment before the video player minimizes and an image of a green field replaces it. Swallowing, she scrolls forward, skipping videos, looking for useful keywords. ‘Attempted implantation - 1’ through ‘Attempted implantation - 7’ are all skipped. After all the attempts, however, she finds what she’s looking for. ‘Successful implantation of Artificial Identity - 1.’ Holding her breath, Ai pulls it up. Bala is standing by a machine, the one from the slide in the previous video, though the new video shows it in crisper detail now that it’s not a photo on a projector being captured by yet another camera. It looks rather like an MRI, and Bala is operating one set of controls, naked save for a diaper. Pulling a lever on the opposite set of controls, Aya starts the machine, and after Bala enters a few instructions, she gets onto the mat and it slides her in. The device spins. Light flashes out, so brilliant it overwhelms the camera for a moment, and when the picture returns, Bala sits upright. “Did it work?” Aya asks. “Did I–did I do it right?” Bala shrugs. “Only one way to find out.” Closing her eyes, she focuses for a moment, and though the camera is too grainy to show much, a slight pixelation of compressed yellow stains her diaper. A moment later, she bolts upright, eyes wide. “What–where the hell am I?” “Take a breath,” Aya says, holding out a hand. “You’re in a medical facility. Do you remember how you got here?” Bala thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “No.” “Do you remember your name?” That takes a little effort. “Mary. Mary Bambine, but…I don’t remember anyone ever calling me that. What happened?” In front of the computer, watching the video, Ai frowns. This wasn’t her. It isn’t her. They brought over two people? “The amnesia will wear off in a little while,” Aya lies. “Can you tell me what year it is?” Again, Mary focuses. “I feel like…it’s got to be…I don’t know. I don’t know. Where am I?” “Just take a breath,” Aya assures her, moving closer. “I just need to adjust something, okay?” She watches Mary, who watches her in turn, cautious but not resisting. Reaching forward, Aya suddenly grabs and jerks on the front of the diaper, ripping it free. Bala sits upright and takes a breath, smiling, satisfied. “It worked. It worked. Make a note of that mind–we’ll clear this one, then copy it in fresh so that she doesn’t remember waking up in the machine. I was right–we just needed your special touch. You operate the machine better than anyone.” Ai closes the video, her breath coming in quick bursts. The next video is labeled as the same day, then ‘2 - Failure’. Bala sits in front of her desk, nursing a mug. She looks tired, even through pixelation. “Status report,” she says, speaking slowly. “I thought, once we got the copies working, it would be smooth sailing, but… We aren’t copying minds. We’re taking them. I think we have a way to put them back safely, but I don’t know what the consequences of that would be. If the subject retains memories of being tested, we could corrupt the whole multiverse.” She sips from the mug and inhales sharply, like the drink is bracing her willpower. “We brought ‘Mary’ over. She wasn’t my first pick, but I need methods that work on more than one girl–I had planned to start light and only focus on my main goals once the methods were perfected. From everything we could determine, this ‘Mary’ was a perfect subject for regression testing, for experimentation with diapers–her mind matched what we were looking for, almost to a T, but after the first pull, we didn’t put her back. We deleted her. And when we went to make another copy…” Frowning, she shakes her head. “I’m making this video for the logs, but we’re not reporting this, it’ll only be in my personal file. They can find out once we have our data. It’s too important to give up. I’m not giving this up, but…I know there’s an infinite amount of people out there, and an infinite number of minds to borrow, but I don’t want to hurt people to accomplish my goals.” Pursing her lips, she still seems bitter and sad as she adds, “Well…most people. If I have to pick one person to destroy, over and over, it may as well be her.” Ai’s fingers are numb as she looks at the final video. ‘Successful implantation of Artificial Identity - Two.’ She barely breathes as the video plays, as Bala enters a code, lies down, and goes into the machine. She and Aya are wordless as a new identity is copied, and when Bala comes out, they don’t immediately tape her into a diaper. “We got her,” Bala says, breathing quickly. She seems excited, like a child at the peak of a rollercoaster, waiting for the drop and the gut-twisting, thrilling weightlessness to follow. Fear and anticipation in tandem. “Fetch the straightjacket–I want to get to work right away. I want to learn how to break this mind within the week.” “That’s ambitious,” Aya cautions, though she’s already obeying, leaving the room. “Do you want to start slow?” “I want her thoughts gone,” Bala replies harshly. “I want her head empty. I want to feel her thoughts slip and slip until they’re goo, until she’s a drooling mess and she can’t fuck things up ag–” Jaw setting, she catches herself, aware of Aya’s uncertain stare. “We aren’t going to take things slow,” Bala finishes. “We’re going to move fast and break things.” They exit the frame, and the clip continues for thirty more seconds on an empty room before the video player closes out of itself. There are no videos more recent than that. Checking the timestamp against the computer’s calendar, Ai sees it’s about a week old. They brought her over, with plans to destroy her and discard the remains, but…there’s a way back. She just needs help to do it. It takes flipping through Bala’s rolodex to find the right phone number. It takes another moment of uncertainty, fingers hovering over the phone, before she works up the courage to call Aya. Ai’s too timid for a full phone call, she only manages one sentence. “Come to my office immediately.” She slams the phone down before Aya can reply, hoping that her fear will be read instead as confidence. Aya is prompt–a good sign. She’s either obedient or afraid. Entering Ai’s office, Aya closes the door behind her. “What do you need, ma’am?” “You heard the project is being shut down, I presume?” Ai asks. “All our work is being tossed down the drain.” Glancing to the side, Aya nods. “I–of course I heard.” “Do you know why Ai is scheduled to be destroyed instead of sent home?” she asks. “No,” Aya says quickly. Speaking louder, speaking more slowly, she says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ai frowns. “We can send the minds back, but–” “Bala!” Aya blurts, looking over her shoulder quickly. The door’s closed, but she’s still alarmed, as though they might be overheard. “You–you can’t say that. You’re the one who told me to keep that element a secret.” Blinking, Ai tries to maintain composure. “Of course I am, but it’s just us here. There’s nobody listening.” But there are other people listening, or at least following along. Ai still has her audience, paying attention to every word she says. Striding to the desk to sit across from Ai, Aya leans forward, speaking in hushed tones. “You ordered me to keep it a secret–to make sure nobody finds out we’re pulling real minds, not making copies. If the higher ups found out, it would…” She can’t finish the sentence. If she could speak the truth, she would have said, ‘It would make things too real, it would change the balance and spoil the mood. You can’t enjoy the scene and fear for her life at the same time.’ “My point is,” Ai says. “To hell with the risk. If our research is being canned, we need to get Ai home, immediately. At least we can mitigate the harm, even if we won’t be able to get the results we want.” Sitting up straight, Aya nods, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Yes, ma’am.” If only this were the end of the story, it might get a happy ending. Alas, there’s still a full chapter yet to come.

No characters will be harmed in the creation of this story. I am unable to provide any such assurances about minor embarrassment, however.

This bed rail system is great for those that what the feal of sleeping in a Crib but don't want or have the room for a dedicated pice of furniture. I love mine.

One further development: a friend of mine who works in supply chain for one of the big grocery stores chains up here in Canada said that the sales of size 8 diapers have surprised them since they were launched - a lot of stores had decided not to stock them, thinking they were a specialized product that people could get at drug stores, but the ones that did saw them sell briskly.

Hello dear readers Thanks for your comments. I have the next part ready to publish. It is not so long this time but as I want to keep it on a day-to-day Chapter length the first ones will be shorter. Annie Chapter 2 - Aquarium - Quite too busy while exploring the city When Lila got up, she was excited. A whole day of exploration and discoveries was coming up. While her parents were still sleeping and surely dreaming about boring adult stuff like working or creating rules for each other. But she was awake and could hardly wait anymore until the city was woken up by the tickling rays of the sun. “Lila, are you already out of bed?” whispered her mum as she saw her daughter sitting on the table watching the first cars deep under them. They were surely heading to an early start at work or returning from their night shift watching over the sleeping inhabitants in this ocean of concrete and briggs. “Yes, mum. What are we up to doing today?”, her girl asked excitedly, wishing her parents would finally leave their beds. “I thought we should go and check out the aquarium.”, her mother suggested. “It could be an interesting place to explore the maritime environment, don't you think?” Lila nodded again, still not entirely sure if it would be a comfortable place to spend their first day in the city. “You want to carefully wake your daddy. We have a breakfast buffet included, and it would be a great way to start the day together.” She smiled mischievously, thinking about all the different ways she could bring him back from his dreams to the real world. With a smile, she walked over to the still-snoring men. She was sitting next to her dad, kissing him awake. “Daddy they have prepared a buffet for us and Mum wants to take me to the aquarium.”, she began to speak. “And...”, she wanted to continue when her dad began to tickle her and dragged her under the blanket. “Honey, you don't want to sleep anymore?”, he concluded as her mum did just moments ago. “No, Daddy, I cannot! We have so much to do”, she explained to the sleeping adult and sounded so excited. ### Two hours later, they were finally arriving at the entrance. And Lila could not stand waiting anymore. She had waited so long and now was circling her parents while they were waiting patiently. “Do you need to go to the bathroom before we go in?”, her mum asked, just making sure she did not force her child into using her diaper. Maybe she should have brought the pull-ups along as well, just to give her the possibility to go on her own. But on the other hand, she was sure the baby-sized pull-ups even in the biggest size would not be a help if she really had an accident. In Lila's eyes, there was no need for that at all, her mother had put her in a fresh diaper after breakfast and the little but still teenage girl had already decided she was not too keen on using the public bathrooms. So without telling the embarrassing decision to her parents, she would just use her diapers if she needed to pee, as she did on the flight. “No! Mum, I don't have to go.”, she answered truthfully but forgot to mention that she already peed when they were in the metro. Dad booked them on a guided tour, for one and a half hours they could see the maritime world waiting for them behind thick glass windows. Their tour guide was already waiting for the kids and teens tour right at the entrance. “Are we all ready to leave?”, the young woman asked, wearing a bluish-colored shirt. And she started to explain interesting things about the place while showing them around. For the next ninety minutes, they were all quite busy walking through the site, watching fish in the tanks and even feeding them under the watchful eyes of the zookeeper. As Lila did not want to miss a single second of the interesting program, she again ignored her mum's attempt to help her if a toilet was close by. While her diaper between her legs was starting to get heavy. At about noon, the tour ended, and they were having lunch in a sunken-ship-themed restaurant. Lila joyfully was running around her Mummy. “Look what I found”, she led her parents to the free spot that was just separated by a glass window from the fishes. Long before her parents finished reading the menu, Lila had decided to go with the much more colorful kid’s menu and quickly found her loved spaghetti with tomato sauce and cheese. “Mummy, can you get me the spaghetti?” she ordered, immediately going back to look into the large tanks containing the big sharks and barracudas as if they were swimming right next to their sunken ship. As she was watching, her diaper was getting very wet now, and began to feel slightly uncomfortable. Should she ask her mum to change her? Did her parents even bring a spare nappy? Her mum seemed so determined to let her go to the toilet all day long, while she did not even once admit she had to go, when mum offered her to pee like a big kid. When they chose what they wanted, she decided to join her mum as they went over to pick up their plates and drinks. “Wait for a second”, her mother asked her to stop and was discreetly sliding her hand over the back of her summer dress, feeling the wet nappy underneath. “You are pretty wet aren't you”, her mum asked, noticing that her child seemed to ignore all her reminders to use the potty and had just peed herself instead. Lila blushed in embarrassment as the truth was becoming clear to her mum. “Does it still hold up until we have finished lunch?”, she asked, not willing to check and embarrass her any further in public. The little girl honestly did not know. She had not counted every time she just let herself trickle a little, when she felt the urge coming back. Yes, sure she had a lot of orange juice and hot chocolate for her breakfast, but she was wearing a real diaper after all. “No, I think I am fine.”, she told her mum, knowing that this was borderline lying to her. “Don't worry, I will change you immediately after our meal.”, Lila heard her mum and felt suddenly relieved, as this was how her parents were reacting when she wet her pull-ups a lot on her previous vacations. And while she was mussing up her child's hair, her kid was snuggling on her side. She stroked her back as her little girl took drinks from the fill-up station and also put the plates of hot, delicious-looking lunch on their plate before they headed to the checkout. Her mum thought about her little girl as she handed her the purse to pay and smiled as she was trying to sound like she was in charge. She likes playing grown-up, but at the same time simply refuses to go to the potty. Even on their past vacations, Lila just wet herself when it was hard to reach the restrooms in time. But now she did not even try anymore. She thought back to the time when they finally trained her on the last days before she started primary school. Her baby girl in those days was already asking to go poopy on her potty while she always wet herself, until her pediatrician gave her the advice to let her slow down and give her a little more time. So she got used to wearing her pull-ups to school and was still wetting herself every day in the first month. Then suddenly, even if her mum had her doubts, the stress of starting school cooled off, and she finally stopped as if it had never been a problem. Was this similar? She asked herself. Was she having too much stress and now found a way to step back? Could she at least take the stress from her girl while they were on the trip together? But what if she would lose the ability to make it to the potty again? School will be starting again next week and the summer holidays are still two months away. “You seem so worried?”, her husband tried to cheer her up as he noticed she had not even touched her plate. He was taking her wife's hand. Maybe she was worrying too much about her child, she finally decided. She was much happier since she was back in diapers, and that could not be bad for her child, couldn't it? She finally started eating her meal while the others were already halfway through their lunch. As Lila finished her meal, she again felt the need to pee. Without hesitation, she just relaxed and let it all out. But this time the wetness did not disappear anymore, and also her dress felt uncomfortable and wetness started to dribble down her legs. “What's up, darling?”, her mum asked her as she noticed her strange behavior. She was looking over to her daughter, noticing the crowing wet stains on her precious girl's dress. “Oh, I think you are leaking honey”, she revealed what Lila desperately wanted to hide. Her mum grabbed her big bag, helping her child to stand up. As comfortable as she was with peeing her pants, she did not want anyone to see what she did here sitting in the middle of the restaurant. She wished her mum would just help her to take her on her hips and let her cover her eyes in the shirt to feel more protected while she brought her over to the bathroom. “Mum, please!”, Lila begged for help as she felt all the eyes of the other guests on her wet bum. Finally, her mum at least put her arm around her and quickly dragged her out of the room while she could at least hide her face a little. “We just had an accident”, she heard her mum talk to one of the employees. And was hardly noticing the response as her mum dragged her to a room close by. The noise of the tourists slowly walking was coming to an end as the door closed. “Here, we have a special changing table to fit kids her age”, the man said that Lila identified as one of the service personnel of the restaurant. “Thanks, that is really a great help, what can we do to clean her chair?” she heard her mum asking. “Don't worry, this happens a lot even if normally to slightly younger guests, so the chairs have a plastic cover and can be cleaned easily.” He smiled, easing the worries on her mum's face. Lila quickly hid her face again and just let loose when she heard the door close and Mum's arms lifting her up, sitting her on the soft plastic surface as she unpacked her bag. Her mum had packed not only a spare diaper, but also another dress that she could wear instead of her now wet one. “Oh, this is soaked, why did you not go to the restroom with me when I asked you to”, her mother grumbled slightly as she undressed her. She did not notice as her daughter’s eyes sank in shame. “Or at least you could have told me how wet you really are?” Lila sighed at the hard words she no longer could take. Without being able to stop it, she felt some tears running down her cheeks. The seconds passed. Was she too strict with her girl? She clearly was desperate now. Her mummy instinct took over. She could not stand seeing Lila in tears anymore, even if this meant that her daughter's potty training was on the line. Suddenly, her mum took a napkin and dried her tears. “Baby it is not a problem at all.”, she quickly added as she noticed that in trying to let her be the teenager, she had overestimated what Lila could bear by a lot. Maybe I should have checked on you as I did all the previous years. And she could still hear the feelings of worry and anger in her voice. As innocently as she could, Lila looked her mum in the eyes. “You want me to help you more, don't you”, her mum tried to find out why her daughter suddenly ditched her potty training. Her child nodded, while she was not even able to look her in the eyes. Should we step back some more to make it more comfortable for you on the vacation, she asked again, and this time she could mumble a soft yes as her answer. Her mum seemed to notice that she was lifting a lot of weight off her small daughter's shoulder. And she simply kissed her kid to get rid of the rest of her tears. Taking some of the wipes that were provided, she quickly cleaned the diaper area, rolled up the sodden now yellow-tainted diaper, and placed a fresh one under her bum. Just as in the airport, she was quickly back in something clean and comfy. Finally, Lila could smile again as her mum put the new dress over her head. “Mummy please, can you hold my hand”, she asked her big guardian as they left the room some seconds later. And as she grabbed her fingers to hold her mum she felt the connection to her parents again and the child in her was back, enjoying that they still could stay here while she was dancing back to their seats. “Thanks”, she heard her mum say as they passed the waiter that helped them out before. “Sure, we are here to help.”, he told her, while Lila greeted him with a big smile. “You are feeling better too?”, he asked her, clearly not thinking that she was thirteen. The little girl who could not keep her legs from tumbling in joy nodded. “You were really brave, so if you want and your mum allows it, you can choose a little treat for yourself from the kid's dessert menu”, he told Lila. Handing her a printed sheet that was a mixture of a menu with some fish to color in between. “Thanks, we would love to”, her mum said, as she took two separate sheets for herself and her husband from the adult menu stack. And with a smile, they returned to their table and ended up eating a yummy dessert as well. While they headed out exploring in the afternoon, Lila noticed some changes. Her mum now ended all the futile reminders of the possible stops at the restrooms. Instead, in a much more embarrassing manner, started to check her daughter's diaper whenever she could do it without making her child sink in shame. And while the first checks were embarrassing, she noticed that now where the procedure no longer involved her being responsible for her diaper, she started to relax even more and just trusted her parents to be there for her. ### The bright sunlight shining on the bed tickled Lila awake. The clock on the TV showed her it was just a little past six in the morning. The childlike girl felt incredibly groggy, like she had not rested at all. They had spent the entire last day at the aquarium, and it was a great experience. So by the time they left in the evening, every member of the family was exhausted, and the small girl closed her eyes even before her mum finished changing her for the night. With her feet, she pushed the covers slightly down and turned to her Mom, who was still sleeping peacefully next to her, holding her with her arm. Lila and Maria shared the same queen-sized bed, while Dad had a separate bed next to them for himself. As she moved her legs a little, she noticed the warm and slightly squish diaper around her booty. While her pajamas were still dry and comfy. The girl wondered if she had a wet night, but then she remembered she peed her diaper at night as she was much too tired to get up, and she was pretty sure she did that not just once. It still was comfy, and Lila did not see any need to get changed immediately. She actually just wanted to drift back to sleep and get at least a couple more hours of rest. But as much as she tried, she could not. For once the sun was much too bright and second there was this dull ache in her belly. What should she do? All her potty training told her she should remove the sodden diaper and head to the bathroom. But then her Mom would have to get up from her deep sleep and change her into a fresh diaper for the rest of her night, or she would risk a wet bed in the morning when she sleeps without her protection for one or two hours. She thought how easy this was in the airport, what if she could just go in her diaper now and worry when her mum was up? But no, when she goes poopy in her bed with the toilet so close by, her Mom would get angry for sure? Cleaning up after she messed in her diaper was quite a smelly work, after all. And while she had her mum’s approval on the trip to push it all in her diaper, that was just because they were in a hurry, and she could not hold it any longer. Maybe she could pretend that she pooped in her diaper while she was sleeping, but ... no, Mom would never believe that. She rolled back facing her mum as the ache got worse. She finally had to wake her, as she was certain it was the only way out of her dilemma. Lila crawled closer to Mom’s side and whispered, “Mummy wake up .... Mummy please ... Mummy!“ “Good morning, dear.” she finally said with sleep still in her eyes, letting her daughter's head down on her shoulder. “Why are you up so early? I’m still pretty tired myself.” “Mummy!.” replied Lila in desperation as she now needed to go really urgently. “I can't sleep anymore because I desperately need to go to the toilet. My belly is aching a little.” Mom stroked her hair for a moment as she thought about it. “Why don't you just go poopy in your diaper again … it's easier, and you don't need to worry.”, her Mom suggested as if that was the obvious solution for her problem, And yawningly she added. “I promise, I will change you when we both get up later.” With her mum’s promise in her mind, Lia wiggled around to find a comfortable position for pooping herself. But this was a little hard as she was laying in bed and her body is not used to doing that. Surely, she could just squat down, but she really wanted to stay in her bed, snug and close to her mum. Her mum just smiled at her, come I help you, she mumbles and as she rocked her a little on her tummy. And as she pushed her legs slightly apart, she lost her control and she noticed a little log of poop already leaving her. “Just do it, and you can get back to sleep”, she padded her as she began to climb out of bed. Lila closed her eyes and pushed. Moments later, the tummy was soft and relaxed, and just the warm babyish feeling on her booty was a reminder of what she had done. “I will close the curtains”, explained Mum as she got up for a moment and opened the window a little bit. Before laying back next to Lila. A scent of poop came from under their blankets as Lila opened her eyes again. Are you feeling better, she asked as she rolled Lila closer to herself and kissed her forehead. Lila, still embarrassed about what she just did, was enjoying her mum’s attention. And before she started to rock her back to sleep, she pulled back the waistband of her diaper and confirmed that her little girl indeed pooped herself. You had to go quite urgently, that must have been uncomfortable all night for your little belly? She assumed, now starting to rock her softly, “Are you feeling better now.” Lila nodded. “At least the ache in my tummy is gone”, she smiled. “With diapers on, it is much easier to just go if you need to pee or poop instead of holding in, don't you agree.” “You are not mad at me for not trying harder to avoid a potty accident like that. I thought I should have taken off my diaper and headed to the toilet instead.” “Baby no! Please don't take it off yourself. You still wet your bed. I prefer it if you wake up with a poopy diaper over changing your wet bedding. Is pooping yourself so uncomfortable for you.” She wanted to hear the feelings of Lila. “No, using it does not feel bad at all. It pushes away the anger when something does not go as I liked it and brings back all these nice memories from when I was little and did not care. Maybe I miss being that carefree little girl.” her child in her arms confessed. Mum gave her Lila a kiss on the cheek. “I also would love to have my play and cheerful kid back, and I missed caring for my baby. So it is never a chore for me to clean you up when you are wet or messy.” She slowly patted her daughter's belly. “Can you promise your mummy to be carefree about that and just go potty in your diaper whenever you need to?” Lila nodded with a childish smile. “And if you want some more cuddles or something else, however childish it may seem, tell me or your dad, ok?” The smiling girl nestled down into Mum’s shoulder. She could relax with her mum so close, and after the talk with her mother, she felt the ease of mind about her current embarrassing potty habits. Lila still felt the warm mess on her bum, and the oddly smoothing feeling again let her forget all her teeny worries, and she drifted back to sleep

Chapter 17: Not a Baby Three Years Ago I didn’t let my failure to find pull-ups in my sister’s bedroom deter me. I scoured the rest of the house. Jackson’s bedroom seemed like a promising Plan B, but there were no pull-ups or even baby diapers to be found in there either. The same held true for the rest of the house. But just because I didn’t find any diapers didn’t mean that there weren’t other discoveries that were made. The basement was the final frontier of my search for diapers or pull-ups. It was where things that were no longer needed were tucked away forever, or at least until Mom decided it was time to pull them out for a garage sale or donate them to a thrift store. I had to tug hard at one of the doors in the closet that ran the length of the shortest wall in the unfinished area of the basement that was adjacent to the laundry room. The door finally opened with a rather large bang. I hoped that no one upstairs wondered what I was doing. It was Saturday afternoon, so everyone was home. It would perhaps have been wiser to hold off on the search until Monday, when it would just be Grace and me at home during the summer while our parents were off at work and Jackson was attending preschool. But I simply couldn’t bear to wait any longer. I was so convinced that there had to be diapers or pull-ups somewhere in the house. The fact that I hadn’t found them yet just had to mean that I hadn’t looked in the right places. But this first section of the closet didn’t yield the results I had been hoping for. There were a bunch of storage boxes, but the contents of the clear plastic bins were obvious. It was just a bunch of Christmas decorations, ornaments, lights, and an artificial Christmas tree that would need to be painfully reassembled next year. The door shut with a firm click. That was OK. There were still four more sections of the closet left for me to check. The next two were also disappointing, especially as they all contained cardboard boxes that I had to drag out and open before determining that the contents – old keepsakes, games, clothes, and other odds and ends – were not what I was looking for. My anticipation was turning to despair as I approached the second-to-last closet door. I tugged open the door. And there it was. For a moment, I thought I had hit the mother of all jackpots. The cardboard box of pull-ups was sitting at eye level with me on the shelf. I would have preferred to have discovered a box of my sister’s old pull-ups, but at this point, I was simply elated to have found anything at all. It didn’t matter one bit that they were pull-ups meant for boys. I was so eager to finally try one on that I was willing to overlook that detail. I pulled the box out of the closet and set it down carefully on the floor. I paused before opening it, listening for any sounds of movement upstairs. But no one was walking around at all, and there were definitely no sounds of anyone heading toward the stairs that led down to the basement. I was relieved that the cardboard diaper box wasn’t taped up. All I had to do to open it was to unfold the top of it. My hands were shaking as I reached down and pulled the cardboard flaps on top of the box apart. But it wasn’t diapers that I found inside. Instead, it was an assortment of all the baby items that my brother had outgrown. There were bibs, bottles, pacifiers, an old diaper bag, tiny baby utensils, and sippy cups. I closed my eyes and groaned. I had been so close. I hurriedly opened the last remaining closet door. Nothing. Just more clear plastic bins that very obviously did not contain any diapers or pull-ups. My mind felt numb. I had been so sure I’d at least find something. Every other option I had considered for getting my hands on those pull-ups seemed so far off and out of reach at the moment. I wanted them now. The realization that I was being denied that instant gratification stung deeply. I went back to look at the pull-up box that didn’t actually have any pull-ups in it. I no longer had any hope of finding what I was looking for, but I dug my hand into the box nonetheless. All I found was regular, hard plastic, not the soft, crinkly sensation of the pull-up I had held in my hands a little over a week ago. I again regretted that I hadn’t been able to work up the courage to sneak that pull-up home rather than toss it away in the bathroom garbage container. Then another thought took hold of me. If it felt that good to wear a pull-up, perhaps it might also feel good to try out some of my brother’s baby items. Perhaps this whole search wouldn’t end up being a waste of time after all. I looked down at the contents of the cardboard box. It was immediately apparent what my first experiment should be. I plucked out a pacifier from atop an assortment of other baby items. I held the blue pacifier in front of me. Mom had gotten Jackson to give up pacifiers about a year ago – shortly after his second birthday. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to have it in my mouth. I examined the pacifier carefully as I rotated it a couple of times in my hand. How in the world was I supposed to tell which side was up? The clear, silicone part of the pacifier wasn’t uniformly shaped, so there had to be a right way to insert it into my mouth, but I was at a loss to figure out which way it was supposed to go. I tried to recall how it had looked in Jackson’s mouth, but I had never paid close attention to how he has used his pacifiers before. But there was an incredibly obvious way to figure out an answer to that question. I flipped the pacifier over once more, opened my mouth, and brought the pacifier up to my lips. I learned an incredibly important lesson when I put the pacifier into my mouth. It was very important to wash something that had been sitting in storage for a year before you put it into your mouth. I spat the pacifier back out onto the floor. I had never in my life tasted something so gross. I felt as though I was going to puke if I didn’t immediately remedy the situation. Water. I needed water. The closest option was the laundry room sink. I raced around the corner to the laundry room, fumbling for the light switch so I could see the sink in the far corner next to the washing machine. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have taken a single sip of water from this sink or any other one in the house. I had never been able to stand the tap water ever since we had moved into the house when I was about five years old. No one else in our family had that problem, but after several days of me point-blank refusing to take even the smallest sip of water, my parents had finally relented and purchased a filtered water pitcher for me to use. The filtered water tasted so much better. I couldn’t understand how my family could claim that it didn’t taste different at all to them. I had the same problem with water at restaurants. There was about a fifty-fifty chance whether I would be able to drink more than a couple of sips before insisting that my parents let me order juice, ice-tea, or even soda. At this point, they usually just ordered bottled water for me, if that was an option. I looked down at the sink. Under normal circumstances, what I was about to do would have been unfathomable. But these were not normal circumstances. I turned the handle for the cold-water faucet and cupped my hands beneath the cold stream of water before bringing them repeatedly up to my face for quick sips. This was probably the first time in four years that I had actually swallowed any tap water at this house. I brought my cupped hands up to my mouth a half-dozen times before the awful taste left by the pacifier was gone. The tap water didn’t leave a good taste in my mouth, but in comparison to the aftertaste that had been left by the dusty pacifier, it was a massive relief. That didn’t mean that I was in any hurry to drink more of it. I paused at the sound of footsteps moving upstairs. It sounded as though someone was heading out of the living room, straight toward the kitchen. I sprinted out of the laundry room, not bothering to shut the light off. I reached for the box of pull-ups and was just about to lift it up to return it to its place in the closet when the footsteps came to a stop right above me in the kitchen. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was probably just Mom getting started on her dinner preparations. I’d be fine as long as she didn’t need to come and get anything out of the pantry. I realized as well that I had completely forgotten about the pacifier that had fallen to the floor. The second or so that it had been in my mouth hadn’t been nearly long enough for me to decide on whether I liked it, as that moment had been spoiled by its gross taste. My first thought was to wash the pacifier in the laundry room sink, but I immediately dismissed that idea. It was in bad enough shape that I was going to need soap. I tucked the pacifier into the pocket of my shorts. I would need to find a way to clean it later. I looked at the size description on the side of the pull-up box as I put it back into the closet. The weight range that these pull-ups were supposed to fit was thirty-two to forty pounds. I knew from the scale in the upstairs bathroom that I was a good twenty-five pounds above that. Even if there had been some of these pull-ups left over, there wasn’t any way they would have fit me. On the other hand, it was clear that the bedwetting pull-ups my cousins had worn must have had larger sizing requirements, as they had fit me without any issues. But that was a question I wasn’t going to be able to get an answer to. I didn’t have a smartphone. Grace, who was six years older than me, had just recently been allowed to have one for herself. Plus, Dad had made it very clear that he was capable of seeing what things I searched for when I used the family PC or tablet. That was a lesson I had found out the hard way while searching for information on what should have been an innocuous topic, only to have to immediately advert my eyes at what actually showed up on the screen. I had closed the web browser immediately, but somehow, I still ended up getting a lengthy lecture from my parents about internet safety, followed by being banned from using the tablet for several weeks. A few loud thumps caused me to turn my gaze toward the ceiling. There was no doubt about it now. Someone was headed toward the basement stairs. I hurried back over to the laundry room after shutting the closet door behind me, hoping that the pacifier would, in fact, be a good consolation prize. I got on my knees and started opening some cabinets on the floor, pretending to be searching for Chester. “Maddy, what are you doing?” I turned around to see Mom standing in the laundry room doorway. “I’m looking for Chester,” I said, giving the pre-made excuse I had prepared in case any questioned why I was spending time alone in the basement. We’d gotten the two-year-old orange cat several months ago. He was gradually becoming more friendly with us, but he still took to hiding in odd places around the house for hours at a time. “He’s upstairs napping behind the couch in the living room,” Mom said. “But you need to leave him alone if he is hiding away like that. You can play with him when he comes back out again.” “But, Mom.” “If he doesn’t want to be bothered, he doesn’t want to be bothered. He’ll let us know when he wants to be played with again.” Without any further excuse to stay in the basement, I watched as Mom grabbed a box of pasta noodles off of a shelf and then followed her back up the stairs toward the kitchen. I made my way upstairs to the bathroom on the second floor of the house. I did need to use the toilet anyway, and this would provide the perfect cover for getting the pacifier washed. I hoped that the hand soap I was using to clean off the pacifier wouldn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth. I made sure to rinse it off as thoroughly as possible before placing it back into my pocket for the short walk down the hallway to my bedroom. I took the pacifier out of my pocket and laid down on the bed. There was still plenty of time before dinner for me to see how using the pacifier would go. I cautiously slid the pacifier into my mouth. I had done a good job of washing it; there was no yucky taste of built-up dust or soap. I sucked on the pacifier awkwardly, trying to figure out exactly how I was supposed to use it. There wasn’t any real taste to it, just the bland sensation of semi-squishy silicone. I felt really silly. It wasn’t doing anything for me. It wasn’t anywhere close to as fun as wearing a pull-up. I used my tongue to rotate the pacifier in my mouth. Perhaps it had just been in the wrong position. Nope, it was still the same. It wasn’t as though I disliked sucking on the pacifier. It didn’t taste bad or feel uncomfortable. But it didn’t do anything for me. It was nothing like the euphoria I had felt when I had been wearing a pull-up. I tried, and failed, to imagine myself as a baby, sucking on a pacifier or drinking out of a bottle, but whatever had led me to be interested in wearing pull-ups again wasn’t in any way connected to other baby items. Having grown bored with this new toy already, I hid the pacifier in the bottom of my dresser, tucking it safely away until I would have the chance to return it to the closet. Later that week, when I returned the pacifier to its place in the pull-up box in the basement closet, I also tried drinking from a baby bottle, which required me to be incredibly stealthy to clean and fill, even with only my older sister around at the time. I managed to get away with it without being caught, but the result was the same, even though I had filled the baby bottle with my preferred filtered drinking water. Being a baby simply held no appeal to me. I couldn’t fathom wanting to suck on a pacifier or drink from a bottle for more than a minute or two. I certainly didn’t want to be a baby again. But that didn’t matter. As I had learned from my cousins, one didn’t have to be a baby to wear diapers. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

This is the correct answer. No store employee is ever going to say anything because it’s overt discrimination. If they do then you have a tort and will get $$$ Nobody else is ever going to say anything because what can they really say?! Everyone in society lost all right to lecture me on what is right / wrong when paper masks started getting people assaulted & killed. Anyone that wants to get in my face because I wear diapers can fuck around & find out.

Or your diaper could leak any where and you could claim it's just the fabric style, even if it's not true.

The great thing is you can wet your pants and no one will know.

Chapter 15: A Hard Pill to Swallow I stumbled through the front door after being dropped off by the bus on Thursday afternoon. I let my backpack fall to the floor with a loud bang as soon as I had shut the front door behind me. I was exhausted. It had been another seven hours of struggling to stay awake and focused through what had seemed to be an endless day of end-of-year exams. The only relief was that I was finished with taking my last test for this school year. Now I had about a week of bliss before my end-of-year grades became available online. Yes, I still had to go into school tomorrow, but that was just to wrap things up, clean out lockers, and have end-of-year pizza parties. I’d be free from homework, studying, tests, and early morning bus rides for the next three months. Now, all I wanted to do was sleep. Grace wasn’t anywhere to be seen. But I knew my older sister was home because the minivan she drove had been in the driveway when the school bus had dropped me off. I didn’t get what she did while she was shut away in her room all the time. I took advantage of her absence to drink a glass of water in the kitchen. But with my recently discovered sports water bottle – tucked away in the deepest recesses of the bottom drawer of my dresser – sneaking around to stay hydrated enough to make myself wet the bed wasn’t going to be an issue ever again. Angie and Emma had grilled me about the sleepover again during the ride home from school. That was annoying because I’d already told them yesterday that Mom had said she needed to think about the proposed all-nighter on my birthday a little over a week from now. I was hoping to get an answer about that from her tonight. Neither of my friends were coming over after school. Angie was busy tonight with preparations for the vacation her family was heading out for as soon as school was out tomorrow. I would have had Emma over this evening, except that she had somewhere to be with her family. I quickly cleaned the glass I’d gotten a drink from and then dried it off before putting it back in the sink, leaving no evidence behind. Once in the living room, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch. <><><> I woke up to Grace furiously shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked up. She was standing over me with a panicked look on her face. “Leave me alone,” I mumbled, rolling over to not be facing my sister. “I was just taking a nap.” “What in the world are you thinking?” Grace said, her voice sounding rather agitated. “What do you think? I was taking a nap ’cause I was tired.” “And how do you think Mom would feel about you peeing all over the couch? That’s a lot harder to clean up than your mattress?” I turned back over to look up at Grace. “I wouldn’t do that during a nap.” “Well, that’s what I thought once, too. Just go to your bedroom if you want to sleep.” I yawned and looked at my phone. It was about twenty minutes since I had arrived home from school, but I felt a lot better even after that quick nap. “I think I’m fine, now.” That did raise another interesting question. Was it common for bedwetters to have accidents if they fell asleep for a brief nap during the day? And then there was another thought, one I would have to consider later. If being a bedwetter meant sometimes having an accident during a nap, that could create an excuse for me to experiment with peeing my pants more during the day. “Actually, since you are awake,” Grace said. “You should probably get the cat litter taken care of before Mom gets home. It was really stinky when I was putting clothes in the washing machine before you got home. And you can get your laundry out of the dryer while you're down there because I’m going to need to use it soon for my stuff.” It didn’t matter that Grace was saving me a potential lecture from my parents about not doing my chores. It still was annoying that she was telling me to do it. I stomped noisily down the stairs on the way to the basement. This evening couldn’t come quickly enough. <><><> Mom had apparently talked through the proposal for the all-nighter with Dad, and neither of them was enthusiastic about it. “It’s simply too risky, Maddy,” Mom said. She was sitting next to Dad on the couch. It was just me and my parents in the living room. Jackson was playing with Legos in his bedroom. Grace was off in the kitchen with her after-dinner chore of washing the dishes. “What if you fall asleep on the couch or on the floor by accident? I’m sure you don’t want to have a bedwetting accident around your friends.” I tried to get them to see my side, to no avail. “But that is why we’ll have a bunch of energy drinks. There’s no way I’m going to fall asleep.” “Maddy,” Dad said. “I don’t think you realize how much more caffeine is in those drinks. Even one drink could have four to five times as much caffeine as a can of pop.” “What’s this about energy drinks?” Grace asked as she walked into the living room. There was a splatter of wet spots across her shirt from when she had been washing dishes. “Maddy wants to do an all-nighter for a sleepover on her birthday to avoid the issues she’s been having at night. I was explaining that having a bunch of energy to stay awake the whole night isn’t going to be a good idea.” “There is absolutely no way I would want to deal with three girls all drugged up on caffeine and who knows what else in energy drinks,” Grace said. “Seriously, Maddy. You get shakes just when you have more than one glass of Mountain Dew.” “But,” I said, trying to protest. “It’s not going to work,” Mom said. “An all-nighter is simply not a good idea.” But this left me in a bind. If I couldn’t have a sleepover, what was I supposed to say to my friends? “But I can’t tell Angie and Emma that I can’t do any more sleepovers.” “I don’t think you’ll have to,” Mom said. “There’s something else we can do – something we did with your sister – to make it so you can have a sleepover, so long as it is a normal one without energy drinks.” Pull-ups. Please let it be pull-ups. Perhaps the advertisement in the magazine had been enough to remind Mom of what she may have done for my sister. “Guys,” Grace whined. “Do you have to keep mentioning my own bedwetting?” “It’s just to help your sister out,” Dad said. “We learned a lot about how to handle it with you, so of course, we’re going to try some of the same things with your sister.” “When your sister was around ten years old,” Mom said, “our pediatrician, Dr. Mathorn, recommended trying a pill that would make it so she wouldn’t wet the bed, and it worked quite well.” Seriously? It was as though my parents were doing everything possible to avoid the solution that seemed most obvious to me. But why did it take so long to get Grace the solution that apparently solved all her problems? “Why didn’t she have Grace take those pills earlier?” “I think she said it wasn’t as effective with younger kids and that bedwetting was fairly normal for younger, elementary-age kids, so there wasn’t any need to be concerned about it. We had Grace take the pill whenever she wasn’t going to be at home. It was very effective, so long as she also made sure to limit fluid intake and use the toilet before bed.” Grace groaned softly off to the side. Her hands were covering her face. Obviously, this wasn’t a memory she wanted to be forced to re-live in front of her younger sister. Mom continued her explanation. “Even after her bedwetting phased out, we will had her take the pill for sleepovers for the next couple of years, just as an insurance measure. We still have some, so we figured we’d have you try them the next few nights. Assuming they work as well for you as they did for Grace, then you’ll be able to have the sleepover without any issues. “You really kept those pills?” Grace asked incredulously. “I mean, it wasn’t really intentional. We didn’t think it was likely you’d need them again. They just got tucked away at the back of the medicine cabinet and were forgotten about. It’s probably about time to take them tonight. I’m going to go grab them now.” Mom left to get the pills. Dad excused himself to go off and get Jackson started on his own bedtime routine, leaving me alone with Grace for the moment. My older sister still looked a little irked that Mom had kept her bedwetting medication long after that issue had stopped. For all the ways my parents had allowed my older sister to be independent, bedwetting hadn’t been one of them, not when she had also been forced to continue to sleep on the waterproof mattress until a couple of nights ago. I turned to Grace. “Was there a reason you didn’t take the pills every night?” “I never slept well, and I often had really bad headaches afterward for the next day. It made school impossible.” “Is that supposed to make me want to take them?” “I mean, they do work. I never wet the bed once after taking them. And a terrible headache in the morning beats being known as the girl who still wets the bed at school. But there wasn’t any way I was going to take them every night; that would have been way too much.” “But, like, how does it work?” “I’m trying to remember exactly how the doctor put it,” Grace said. “Basically, it makes it so your body doesn’t produce as much urine while you sleep so that your bladder doesn’t fill up so quickly and make you need to pee.” This revelation about the bedwetting pills was another nail in the coffin to the idea that my older sister had ever worn pull-ups to manage her nighttime condition. I was fairly certain at this point that Grace had never worn pull-ups at home, not with how frequently the laundry was being done when she had been a bedwetter. And the pills meant that she wouldn’t have needed a pull-up any time she had been sleeping overnight somewhere else after she had turned ten. Still, if she had started using the pills around when she was ten, there would have been a time before that when her bedwetting would have to have been managed somehow when she wasn’t at home. I tried to think back to the trips we had taken, but I would have been a baby for nearly all of them, so I didn’t have the slightest recollection of what would have happened with my sister’s bedwetting. Had pull-ups perhaps been used only for those occasions? Or had we picked places to stay that had given my parents the ability to do the necessary amount of extra laundry that would have been required? I’d held off on asking further questions about my sister’s bedwetting because I hadn’t been able to think of a way to ask about pull-ups that would work. I couldn’t have her thinking that I was at all interested in wearing them. But this new revelation gave me an opening to ask a question that could lead to the same answer without revealing exactly what information I was seeking. “So, like, what did you do on trips before you had the bedwetting pills?” I felt quite proud of myself for how sneakily discreet the question was. Without even mentioning pull-ups, there was the possibility that she could give an answer on the subject. “Why does it matter?” “I don’t know. I just realized that I’d never noticed you wet the bed before.” Grace glared at me. Before my sister could say anything further, Mom arrived and answered the question for her. “Oh, we used a special, disposable, absorbent bedwetting pad on top of the mattress.” “Mom, did you have to tell her that?” “What? We’ve already discussed other stuff from your bedwetting.” “It sucked,” Grace said. “It was like sleeping on a massive puppy pee pad. It crinkled worse than my mattress. I could hardly sleep.” “Well, it did at least keep the bed dry while we were at hotels or staying with relatives,” Mom said. “Though it would have been pretty wasteful to use it at home when we had the ability to just toss everything in the washing machine easily.” I finally noticed that Mom was holding a glass with a couple of ounces of water in it. “We should give the pill a try tonight. We need to know if it is going to work before we can OK the sleepover,” Mom said. “Are you sure it is fine to use without talking to a doctor?” Grace asked. “Of course not,” Mom said. “I gave Dr. Mathorn a call this morning, and she gave the OK to have Maddy try the pills this weekend, and depending on how that goes, we can figure out the next steps during her appointment on Monday.” Mom had already signed me up to go to the doctor? My brain started to get fuzzy at the thought of being poked and prodded in an uncannily sterile room. “But… but…” “Dr. Mathorn helped us a bunch with your sister’s bedwetting. It’s not as though she is unfamiliar with the topic.” Mom handed me the pill and the glass of water. “I know you don’t like taking pills. But this one is nice and small, so let’s just get it over with.” I recalled that if I had been an actual bedwetter, I would have been eager about this new solution. I forced what I thought was a natural happy face as I tucked the pill under my tongue and rinsed it down with a swig of water. This was going to be a major problem. “And this is really important, Maddy,” Mom said. “Grace’s doctor was very clear that once the pill is taken right away before bed, you aren’t to have any liquids until the morning. He said that is necessary to avoid some other harmful side effects.” That sucked. I had only gotten half of the way through my water bottle full of disgusting tap water tonight. And the way Mom had phrased this request made it clear that disobeying it would be unwise. I assured Mom that I would avoid drinking any more water and excused myself to head back to my bedroom. I needed time to think through what I was supposed to do next. There were a number of things that I wanted. I wanted pull-ups to wear. I wanted to continue peeing myself. I wanted my parents to think I was a bedwetter. I wanted to have the sleepover with my friends. I wanted to keep the bedwetting a secret from them. I wanted Mom to think that the new bedwetting pills she was giving me were ineffective. I couldn’t think of a path forward that would allow me to accomplish all of that. There was no way I could stop wetting the bed, even temporarily, not when that would convince Mom that the pills were the solution to that problem. But if the bedwetting continued, there wasn’t any way Mom and Dad would sign off on a sleepover. Succeeding in convincing them that I was a bedwetter would only result in them stopping sleepovers unless I could somehow get them to consider pull-ups as a solution. At least with the latest information about my sister’s bedwetting, I was able to understand how she had avoided being made to wear pull-ups. My parents had found a way to handle her nighttime condition in a way that mostly worked without needing disposable undergarments, though in my opinion a pull-up would have worked better than a disposable, absorbent sheet on top of a mattress. Did they not know pull-ups were an option? Had Grace simply outright refused to wear them? Or perhaps they just considered it too expensive or wasteful compared to washing sheets every night? But the exact reason didn’t really seem to matter. What seemed clear to me was that there was no way my parents were going to get me pull-ups of their own volition. I realized now that unless something changed before the sleepover, I was going to need to do the unthinkable. I was going to have to directly ask my parents to purchase pull-ups for me. <><><> A few hours later, I found myself lying awake under the covers. I’d gotten better at staying up past my parents’ bedtime without feeling tired. I had been trying to pee for the past thirty minutes, but it was no use. I didn’t have the slightest urge to urinate. That little pill had worked extremely well. I should have at least felt a decent need to pee at this point, as I’d managed to drink half the bottle before Mom had instructed me very sternly to not have any more water. It was so not fair. The only thing that cheered me up was that it shouldn’t take more than three or four days to convince Mom that these pills weren’t worth the effort. I set an early alarm on my phone, putting in a single earbud so that I’d be the only person to hear the alarm in the morning. No matter how good the pill was, I’d surely have a need to pee in another six hours. I would let Mom wake me up to discover a wet bed again. And in a few days, with every other solution having failed, perhaps it would be possible to convince them that pull-ups were a palatable option. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

Chapter 10: Change of Plans I fell asleep last night without pretending to wet the bed. But that was OK. I’d come to the conclusion that I was going to need to adjust my approach to bedwetting if I wanted to convince my family that the bedwetting was real and not going away anytime soon. I was supposed to set an alarm on my phone before going to bed on a school night so that I would get up in time to get on the bus, but I rarely remembered to do so. That meant that instead of a buzzing sound from my phone, I was rudely awakened by Mom knocking on the bedroom door. “Madelyn, I’m not going to say it again. You need to start getting ready for school right away.” There were a couple more knocks on the door, followed by a longer pause. I opened my eyes long enough to take a look at the digital clock in the room. It was fifteen minutes past when I should have gotten up to get in the shower. For the first time in three mornings, I had woken up in my bed rather than in a sleeping bag on the floor. I closed my eyes again. I was too exhausted to even want to sit up in bed. There was a reason Mom and Dad never let me stay up past midnight on a school night. These late nights were absolutely killing me. The door creaked open and then clicked shut. I heard Mom’s footsteps as she approached the bed, but I kept my eyes closed. Just let me have a few more seconds of rest. Pretty please. Mom sighed and rubbed her hand against my shoulder. “You really need to get up now, Maddy, or you’re not going to have time to eat breakfast before catching the bus.” That would have been fine with me. I didn’t care to eat breakfast most mornings now if I could avoid doing so. But Mom and Dad usually insisted that I get something to eat before going to school. Sometimes, when I was running late, they’d just hand me an orange or a banana, which would often get passed off to one of my friends. Mom rubbed my shoulder again. I opened my eyes. There was no use putting it off any longer. I glanced up at Mom. “Looks like someone slept a lot better last night,” she said. I didn’t agree. I opened my mouth in a wide yawn. “But I’m so tired.” “But your bed stayed dry, right?” Mom asked in a whisper that was unnecessary with the door closed. Oh, that’s what she was referring to. I rolled my eyes, attempting to be the perfect caricature of a soon-to-be teenager, annoyed that her mother would even dare ask that kind of question. “Of course it did.” “That’s good,” Mom said, though she did take one more glance down at my midsection as she said so. “I think as long as you don’t drink too much and remember to use the toilet before bed, we shouldn’t have any repeats.” I nodded in agreement. I could let her think she had won, for now. With Mom now convinced that I was awake, she left the bedroom, leaving me to hurry through my morning routine. I tossed the covers off and went to select an outfit for the day to have something to change into in the bathroom once I was done showering. I grabbed a pair of black leggings and a light-blue T-shirt that had three ducks in a row on it – two yellow ones and one gray one. I was much more awake the moment I stepped into the shower. My change of plans had been the result of several realizations, ones that were even clearer after having a night to sleep on it. The first realization was that I couldn’t just keep doing the same bedwetting routine night after night. It was fine to try to do the most normal type of bedwetting for the first couple of nights of faking the bedwetting, but I was going to need to risk mixing things up. Wetting the bed in the same way at the same time, night after night, would eventually appear unusual if I were to be following an exact pattern. The second realization was that it was OK to have a few random nights where I didn’t wet the bed at all. I seemed to recall from the conversation three years ago with my bedwetting cousins that they hadn’t wet the bed every night, either. I didn’t know how things had been for Grace, but perhaps her experience had been similar. The third realization was that I was going to need to follow all of my parents’ rules about limiting my liquids and using the toilet before bed. It was becoming apparent that pull-ups would likely be a measure of last resort, so I had to make it appear as though every other attempt at stopping the bedwetting was unsuccessful. If they were to catch me drinking too much water, they would blame it on that rather than considering other solutions. I decided that, at least for this last night, I would let Mom, Dad, and Grace think that they’d won, that their efforts to curtail my liquids and ensure that I used the toilet before bed had been enough to bring this recent spate of bedwetting to a halt. I would prove them wrong tonight. It would involve a little more risk, but I didn’t have any other choice. There were several knocks on the bathroom door, followed by the sound of Dad’s voice, which was barely noticeable with the shower still running. “Maddy, you already were up late. You don’t have time for a long shower.” That snapped me out of daydreaming about my new plans for faking bedwetting tonight. I rushed to finish cleaning myself up. By the time I had finished showering and dressing, the bus was set to arrive in less than five minutes. Jackson had already gotten on his bus for elementary school, and Grace was driving to school, so she was still lazily picking through her breakfast while staring at her phone. If the high school hadn’t been in the opposite direction from our house as the middle school, my parents might have had Grace drop me off on her way to high school, but even though I hated how long the bus ride was – and needing to get up extra early for it – the one nice thing was that it gave me time to spend with Emma and Angie before classes began. And besides, the school year was nearly over. Just one more week. Just a bunch of final exams and standardized tests to wade through, and then I’d be free for the whole summer. And there wouldn’t be any actual tests this morning. Monday was prep day, which meant teachers in each of our classes were doing final reviews before it would be time to take our final exams and other end-of-year tests. Not that it mattered much. Even if, by some miracle, I were to ace all of my tests, it wouldn’t bring my grades up to where my parents wanted them to be. That was the downside of having a really smart older sister. Grace had just had to go first and set a bunch of academic expectations that I wasn’t capable of meeting. “Sleep well last night?” Grace asked as I sipped on a glass of orange juice that Mom had hastily poured for me. This time, I caught on to the fact that my sister was really asking about the bedwetting, not whether or not I had gotten a good night’s worth of sleep. “Yeah,” I replied, avoiding eye contact with her. “Maddy,” Mom called out from the front room. “Your bus is at the other end of the street.” I picked up my backpack and rushed to the front door. Mom placed a banana in my hand, which I knew right away was going to be given to Emma. <><><> Both Emma and Angie had already turned thirteen during the school year. I was a late bloomer. I wasn’t going to officially be a teenager for a couple of weeks. My two friends didn’t hold their status as official teenagers over me. Well, at least not that much. Emma accepted the banana from me as I took a seat next to her on the bus. That was good because I wasn’t all that hungry, and it would have been wasteful to just toss it out. I spent the first portion of the bus ride describing the soccer camp my parents had signed me up for in great detail. “Yes, yes, we get it. You’re going to have a fun time without us,” Angie said, after I had been rambling on the topic for about ten minutes. I shut up at the realization that I had indeed been talking nonstop since I had sat down next to Angie and Emma. “If you can stop being a chatterbox for a few seconds, we can start making some other plans for the summer,” Emma said. The conversation turned to getting together for a sleepover. That was dangerous territory. I needed to get my hands on pull-ups before then so that Mom would feel comfortable sending me on the sleepover. I, of course, wouldn’t even take them out of my backpack, but Mom wouldn’t need to be aware of that. The one good thing was that Angie’s parents were taking her on a road trip for a week right after school was let out. That would push off the first sleepover long enough that my parents should be getting me pull-ups after having run out of other ideas to treat the bedwetting. “We could do the sleepover on your birthday,” Emma suggested. She turned to Angie. “You’ll be back by then, right?” Angie took a look at a calendar on her phone. “Yep, we get back the day before.” “I was thinking,” Emma said. “That we should do something special for it. How about pulling an all nighter?” “No way, I’d be out of it by 2 a.m. at the latest,” Angie said. Emma looked over at me. “Well, birthday girl?” That was perfect. Even if I didn’t have pull-ups by then, I could convince Mom I’d be fine until after my friends left to go sleep things off for the rest of the day at home. “That sounds like fun,” I said. “I can do it as long as I can have enough caffeine.” “OK,” Angie said, giving me a look. “Now I really know that it is a bad idea. No way should you be allowed to have that much caffeine.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. Emma joined with Angie in staring incredulously at me. “Let’s see,” Emma said. “There was that time in second grade when you had pop during the pizza party at school. Do I need to remind you what happened afterward?” I blushed. I was very grateful that Emma hadn’t spelled out what had happened in that embarrassing incident. “That was ages ago,” I protested. “Besides, our teacher should have known that my parents didn’t let me have any caffeinated drinks when I was that young.” “Well, what about that time Allen tricked you into drinking that energy drink last year?” I groaned loudly. “That wasn’t my fault, either. How was I supposed to know that Starbucks’ lemonade was caffeinated?” “I’m not saying it was your fault, just that maybe caffeine and you don’t mix very well,” Angie said. “You practically had the shakes, and you literally couldn’t shut up for hours. Mr. Gainwell had to send you to the nurse’s office until you could calm down.” “That’s still different,” I protested. “I’ll be thirteen. I’ll be fine as long as I pace myself and no one surprises me with drinks secretly spiked with caffeine.” “Fine, but we’re doing the sleepover at your house then,” Angie said. “Your parents can deal with you if you get too hyper.” I agreed that this was a fair deal, though it might take some convincing for my parents to go along with it. <><><> I followed all my parents’ rules about limiting my liquids to the letter after I got home from school. I made sure to not drink too much, and I made sure that they could see that I was only filling my cup halfway up the few times I did have something to drink this afternoon and evening. I didn’t get any further comments about limiting my liquids. I didn’t think that was because my parents weren’t paying attention, but because I’d given them no opportunity to complain, as I was following the directions without needing to be given any reminders. Mom did end up reminding me to go and use the toilet before getting into bed, but I would have done so even if she hadn’t said anything to me. The hardest part tonight was having to wait until I was certain that everyone was asleep. As the clock again passed midnight, I once again found that I had no need to pee at the moment, which wasn’t a surprise for tonight. But that didn’t matter. The situation tonight was perfect. I’d done everything my parents had wanted me to do in order to avoid wetting the bed, so when I would trick them into thinking I had wet the bed anyway, despite all of those precautions, they would have no choice but to look for other solutions. The plan tonight was simple, and there was only a tiny risk of being caught at the wrong time, so I figured I could pull it off. I would do what I had considered doing the night before, but only this time, I would do it without wetting my bed in the first place. I eased myself out of bed, turning on the lamp on the nightstand to let me see what I was doing. I removed all the bedding into a pile on the floor. It was a lot to carry all at once, but it would be a lot less risky if I did it all in one trip. I went to open my bedroom door first, as I’d not be able to easily grab the handle with my hands full. The only point where things could go wrong would be right now. I’d only be in the hallway for a couple of seconds, but if Grace were to come out of her bedroom and notice that none of the bedding I was holding was wet, that would out my plan then and there. But it only took a few seconds to walk down the hallway, even while trying to do so quietly with a massive bundle of laundry in my arms. Soon, I was on the stairs and out of sight, letting me slow down lest I trip over Chester in the dark. I deposited the bedding in the washing machine, added some detergent for good measure, and got the washing cycle started. There wouldn’t be any way to tell that I hadn’t actually peed the bed. It would just look like I had been responsible for taking care of the cleanup myself without waking Mom and Dad. And there wouldn’t even be any need to say something to Mom directly. She would be sure to come across the full washing machine at some point after I had left for school. I remembered to sprinkle baking soda on the bed before getting tucked into the sleeping bag on the floor. My only regret as I was drifting off to sleep was how much it was going to suck having to take a bunch of tests tomorrow while being extra tired. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

I'm excited about this chapter and the next several. New characters on the way. New experiences. Makes me wish I was starting daycare (instead of setting this down now to send a work email at a quarter to 11pm.) _________________________________________________ Chapter 21, Part 1 The next day was spent in preparation. Becky had considered throwing an end-of-summer party, but she decided not to. She didn’t want it to seem like a momentous event. Just another day, followed by another and another. The logic – live today there will be a next not so different – made sense to her, and worried making a big deal out of it would only make the day to follow more daunting for Jamie, and for herself. By late afternoon, Becky and Amanda turned to getting themselves ready. Jamie crawled up the steps, still the easiest way given how tall and ride each riser was, and went into Amanda’s room, where she was packing her backpack. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?” “Nothing.” She picked him up and placed him on her bed. It was one of his favorite places. He grabbed a pillow, big enough to be a body pillow for him, and pulled it under his chin. “Nothing at all? Did you cease to exist for a moment and then come back? Because I bet we could make a lot of money doing that on street corners.” She was putting pens in the little loops in the front pocket of her bag. She had her headphones, a bottle of some medicine, and a phone charger in there. When her bad joke didn’t even get a dismissive eye roll, she knew something was up. She put her bag on the floor and laid down next to Jamie, her face to his, and stroked his hair. “C’mon. There’s nothing you can’t tell you Big sister.” “I won’t know anybody.” “Not right when you get there, but by the end of the day you’ll know lots of people.” “But what if none of them want to be my friend?” “What makes you say that?” “Because …” Eric always had grappled with this. He was too shy to approach people; too awkward to make small talk; too awkward to flirt. He’d mad exactly one friend in college, and they’d lost touch. He’d dated one woman, and it didn’t last long. And that was a social peak of his life. In a work setting, he could turn on the professional charm; he was somebody there, not just some random person but someone with expertise and skills. He didn’t have to make small talk; he didn’t have feel shy. But he never made friends with his coworkers. “I don’t … I never learned how to make friends, as an adult. Not really. I guess Cheryl was the first friend I’d made in almost ten years.” And he’d walked away from that. Amanda edged closer. “I’m your friend. Mom is your friend. Jane is your friend. Laurie and Danny are your friends. Mel is your friend. Donna desperately wants to be your friend.” “They don’t count,” Jamie said before realizing what he was saying. “I mean, bigs don’t count. Bigs are going to be friends with any little.” It had been that way for Jamie as a kid. He was friends with more teachers than peers. Even as an adult, he had made a strong social connection to his boss than the people his own age. “Rosie is your friend. Any one of those littles you play tag with would be your friend.” True Jamie knew, but it was still somehow different. He’d been introduced to Rosie. He was popular in the game of tag because he was the best at it, a lot bar considering how many of the little velcro shoes kept falling off. He wouldn’t be the best at everything at daycare. He’d just be the new kid. “I’ll be the new kid. Everybody will know each other but me.” Everybody hates the new kid, at least at first, because they’re an outsider. The group protects its own by driving away the other; adults, school kids, chimpanzees, even birds. “You won’t be the only new kid. And besides, you have a big advantage.” “What’s that?” “You aren’t regressed.” Jamie didn’t think that was an advantage. He thought it would be easier if here regressed, not as aware and with lower inhibitions. There’s a thought, Jamie said to himself, I need a few margaritas. “You get to be the cool little, the one who knows stuff. The one who can do more stuff.” “I just think that makes me …” He paused. “What?” “I just think that makes me pathetic.” Not the word Amanda was expecting. She wanted to embrace him, but she knew he needed space to talk about these feelings. And he need to talk about them; she couldn’t make them go away for him. “What makes you think that?” “All the regressed ones … they need that kind of care and attention. I’m a grown man just being treated that way.” He shook his head. “Even if bigs don’t judge me for that, other littles will.” Now she could pick him up. He didn’t resist. He was chest down on top of her with her arms crossed around his waist. “Do you trust me, Jamie.” He sensed a lecture coming. “Yes. You know that.” “And you know that I’d never do anything to hurt your feelings?” “Never.” “I think that Eric was bad at making friends. I think Jamie is great at making friends, especially little friends. Has any little you’ve met not been nice to you?” “Well, no, but...” “And do you know why? Because you’re so nice to them. You help them have fun. They look up to you.” This next part was the harder part, something Amanda and Becky both said in so many words but that Jamie hadn’t heard, or at least not caught the nuance. She wasn’t sure if he would take it the way it was intended. “And Jamie, those other littles get treated that way because they need to be, and they need to be because they’re littles. You … no one treats as though you were a little. They treat you the way they do because you are a little, too. No little will judge you for being a little; no big will judge you for it, and if someone does, fuck ‘em.” Jaime looked up, surprised. “I’m allowed,” Amanda said, “But don’t tell Mom. The point I’m trying to make, and not doing a good job of it, is you be you. I love that person; Mom does, too. This,” she took his head in her hands and kissed him on the forehead, “is who you are. It’s not pretend. It’s who you are. Do you believe that?” Still looking downtrodden, Jamie didn’t have the energy to say yes just to make her happy. “I want to.” Amanda sighed. “C’mon.” She stood up from the bed and took him with her to the mirror on the closet door. She pointed to her reflection. “Who is that?” Jamie rolled his eyes. “That’s you.” Amanda pointed to Jamie’s reflection. “Who is that?” He rolled his eyes again, impatient. “That’s me.” “Who are you?” “Jamie.” The point was obvious. He didn’t need a locker room pep talk. “You’re sure? You’re sure that’s Jamie? It’s not Eric?” Jamie felt like he walked into that. “Eric would get judged for being treated like a little. Jamie is a little.” Amanda turned away from the mirror and looked at Jamie face to face. “Eric doesn’t live here, and you shouldn’t compare yourself to Eric. I love you, Jamie. I met Eric; I liked Eric; I even loved Eric. But you, Jamie, shine so much brighter, and everyone who meets you sees it. It’s okay to be Jamie; it’s okay to need the love and attention and care that Eric didn’t. Eric even knew he needed it, and that’s why he came here. You be Jamie, and don’t ever, ever, ever be ashamed of it.” She paused and looked at him. Over the top, perhaps. A little too much like a school counselor giving a group talk on bullying. But she meant every word. If Jamie kept comparing himself to Eric, he’d never get past thinking of his new self as an affectation or of the changes in his life as temporary and pretend. This was Jamie’s life; there was nothing pretend or temporary about how Jamie and Amanda and Becky felt about one another. This was life at its top. There was so much to love and like in Eric. Yet Jaime liked Jamie more; Amanda and Becky liked Jamie more; and so would everyone. Amanda was sure of it. Jamie wanted to just feel that way; to know it and feel it, to will himself to feel it. Maybe he could later, if he tried, if enough other people could show how much Jamie was worth loving. Love justifies us; Jamie the little knew that, even if not consciously. “I’ll try.” Amanda figured that was the best answer she could get today. It would just take time and love until Jamie only saw Jamie, only felt like Jamie, was wholly comfortable being Jamie and being seen and treated like Jamie. “That’s my good boy,” Amanda said. She hugged him tight, part reward and part she wanted to. She always wanted to. “Manda? I’m still scared.” “I know you are, buddy.” She kissed him again. I’m scared for you, too, she thought, but she’d never say it to him. “Let’s go pack your bag for tomorrow.” She carried him downstairs to his room, talking along the way. “May I take my bear?” “Yes. You may have to share it with others, though.” Big head shake. “No way.” Never mind, not happening. “You don’t want to share your bear?” “No.” Hell no! Regressed littles and my bear? Why not just pour juice on it, let it ferment in the sun for a few days, and run it over with the lawn mower? “Well, that ruins my plan.” “What plan?” “I was going to ask if I could borrow your bear.” “What for?” Jamie was suspicious. What did she want with his bear? “I was going to ask if I could sleep with your bear tonight. Do you think I could if you came, too?” Jamie loved that idea very much. Very much. “I’d like that.” He smiled. She sometimes took a nap with him. How good it felt to have her warm body against his and her protecting harms over him. They reached Jamie’s room and she set him on the changing table while she packed his bag. “And you know, Jamie, I’m a little scared, too.” “About me going to daycare?” “No, about me going back to school.” “Why?” It wasn’t her first year of school. “Because it’s a new year.” She put two whole outfits into his bag, plus enough diapers for the week, the coloring book he hadn’t started yet, his own bottle and formula, his pacifier, and a book she got for him at the library. “I think you’ll do fine.” “Probably be … buuuut, it might make me feel better if … nah, never mind.” “What? Tell me.” “Well, if you promise to keep an open mind, can I take your bear to school with me tomorrow, to protect me? Just in case?” A conundrum. What if something happened to his bear? But he did trust Amanda more than anyone. And if it would help her … “You’d just carry my bear around all day?” “I’d keep him in my backpack.” “But it’s dark in there. And how will he breathe?” “I’ll leave the zipper open a little. And if he gets hungry, there’s a bunch of places on campus. What does he eat?” “Um … salmon.” “Then he’ll love the sushi place. Do you think he can make it all the way through class without needing the bathroom?” “Oh, he has a very strong bladder. He hasn’t peed once since I’ve met him. Been holding it the entire time.” Amanda lost her poker face; he was too cute and too funny. “Then it’s decided. It’ll be good to have someone to take notes for me, too, in case I decide I need a nap.” She zipped up his bag. “I think that’s everything. Wadduya want to do now? “What’s Mom up to?” “Why don’t we go find out?”

Chapter 19 Jamie spent the rest of the evening alone his room except for dinner and a bedtime bath. He was glad it was Becky who gave it to him and got him ready for bed. In a way, she was blameless. She didn’t and couldn’t, apparently, know. Amanda, on the other hand, didn’t have that excuse. He wondered what it meant for Amanda to be okay keeping him when she knew he didn’t need them. Even if she believed it was mentally or emotionally therapeutic, she knew it was physically unnecessary, and yet she not only went along with it but actively participated in it. She touched him down there, several times a day, and thought nothing of it. As much as she treated him more maturely than anybody else, if she did this knowing it was unnecessary, then she also did it clearly in the belief that it didn’t matter whether it was necessary or not, and that his feelings about it were a secondary concern. What was that? Demeaning? Violating? Yet he knew Amanda would never demean him, not intentionally. She’d more likely cut her arm off than knowingly violate him. All Jamie had to do, he knew, was to tell her he felt those things, and she would stop, and she’d find a way to force her mother to stop. But Jamie knew she didn’t intend to demean him, and he did not believe she’d do this for selfish reasons, nor to please her mother. Those motives weren’t in Amanda, not when it came to Jamie. If her motives were not unkind, that only left kind. Amanda went along with keeping him diapers, Jamie realized, because she cared about him and believed in what she was doing. She may have been misguided. But, then, maybe she wasn’t. Still, that evening Jamie was mad at her, or at least he wanted to be. She took such good care of him. Jamie thought hard on that. He asked himself, how many people in your life took care of you, not because they had to but because they wanted to; not in some perfunctory way, but with dedication and tenderness? He wished she hadn’t told him. He had become resigned to it, or at least it was getting easier to ignore, and now it was front and center again. And it complicated his feelings toward her. Up until today, there was nothing complex about their relationship at all: she loved him unconditionally, he trusted her in every possible way. The former had not changed. Jamie didn’t know if the latter was still true or not. Is it possible to trust someone when they left out information like that was crucial to you? So Becky bathed him and put him to bed. Amanda noticed. It wasn’t that she always did those things. She didn’t. It was more that he didn’t say much during dinner. He didn’t follow her around in the evening. His hug wasn’t tight like it was every night. It would have hurt less if he just yelled at her. And the person Amanda always talked to when she like this was the one person she couldn’t talk to about it. Nor could she talk to Jane about it. Nor did she think it appropriate to talk to Mel or, god forbid, Donna. The person she wanted to talk about it with made it pretty plain he didn’t want to talk to her right now. Amanda and Jamie both went to bed feeling gloomy. ­­­­­______________________________________________________________________________ It was the first day of the weekend before school started for Becky and Amanda. The two of them and Jamie were finishing their breakfast. Becky knew something was up. Neither looked happy. Becky assumed it was the prospect of not getting to spend the entire day together soon. “What do the two of you want to do today? Let’s do something we haven’t done yet.” Becky tried to sound chipper, as though she, too, wasn’t unhappy with going back to work and putting Jamie in day care. “Any ideas?” There were none forthcoming in the few seconds after she said. Instead, there was just a doorbell. They weren’t expecting anyone. Becky got the door. “Marsha, what an unexpected surprise! Come in.” Amanda heard, grabbed the nearest dishrag, wiped off Jamie’s face, did her best to comb his hair with her hands, and moved him from his regular chair to the highchair, strapping him in for good measure. “What’s going on,” he whispered. “That’s your social worker,” she whispered back. So, he thought, what did we need to do all that for? Rebecca stepped out of the door and allowed Marsha to come in. “Good morning, Miss Webb. How have you been?” Pleasantries were exchanged. “Is everything alright,” Becky asked. Unexpected visitors were always welcome, but with some you had to be wary. “Everything is fine. This is just a regular home visit. Has to be a surprised, remember?” “Of course. Please, come into the kitchen and meet Jamie – awake.” Becky chuckled and hope she didn’t do it nervously. She had nothing to hide, so why was the nervous. “Jamie, I’d like you to meet Marsha. She’s from the agency. She’s your case worker her.” Becky introduced a big wearing clothes halfway between Saturday and business casual, pulling off neither look, with a large bag in one hand and a smile that said, I’ve been trained to be friendly and non-threatening and it didn’t work. Is that what I looked like, Jamie wondered. As a social worker, he must have done around 2,000 of these in his years on the job. “Nice to meet you, Marsha.” “Hello, Jamie. It’s so good to see you again.” “We’ve met?” “When you were in the hospital. Oh, what a pitiful thing you were.” Jamie was having a hard time reading Marsha. It wasn’t clear whether she saw him as Jamie or as the average little. Her voice went both ways; her body language was consciously trying to express openness, but she seemed about business, too. “Marsha is here to do your first home visit,” Becky explained. “Please, have a seat.” She sat in Jamie’s chair. “That’s right, Jamie. I’m just here to see how you’re doing. We’re just gonna talk for a while? How does that sound?” Talking for a while or you talking to me like … a foster kid, he thought. If life is a cycle, Jamie’s was now halfway through the second go-round. He remembered these visits from his childhood; he remembered these visits from the other side of the table (the last one had only been a few months ago); and now he was back on the other side of table again. “That’s fine.” Jamie tried to sound neutral. He had forgotten, somewhat, how intimidating these visits could be. Here was someone who had come to pry into his life, and though she had good intentions, bad outcomes were as likely as good no matter the intention. He’d been moved from one home to another as a kid when he didn’t want to go. He was never told the reasons. He always wondered if it was because he said something he shouldn’t have, and how his life may have turned out differently had he stayed. Maybe he would have been adopted; maybe he never would have wound up in a group home ten years later. “So, I’m going to talk with Rebecca and Amanda first, and then you and I will talk. Is that alright?” The question was for all of them. Jamie knew why: so that if the bigs told any lies, Jamie might say something to make those lies apparent. He looked at Becky and Amanda, who were doing their best to look calm, unconcerned, and unresentful. They knew they had no reason not be those things, but there it was anyway. “Sounds good to us,” Becky said. “I’ll go get Jamie situated,” Amanda offered. She quickly made him a bottle of water; why a bottle, she couldn’t exactly be sure. She unbuckled him and carried him to the living room. She wasn’t sure if she just send him to his own room. Would that be leaving him unsupervised if she didn’t put him in his crib? She put him in his playpen. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to hang out in here. You got what you need?” He had a blanket and his coloring book. “May I have my bear?” He knew he didn’t need to feel nervous or resentful either, but her did. He wanted his bear right then. “Sure.” She was back in a moment with the bear. Before leaving him, she bent over into the playpen to kiss the top of his head, then turned to go back to the kitchen. “Manda?” She stopped and turned. “It’s okay. Promise.” She walked back to the playpen and whispered, “It’s my job to make you feel safe, remember?” “Yeah, but I’ve done this before.” Another kiss, and Amanda went back. “Sorry,” she said as she closed the pocket door, “He wanted his bear.” “Not a problem. Your mom and me were just making small talk. So, why don’t you start just by telling me how things have gone since Jamie got here.” Becky led the discussion with Amanda chiming in. They talked about his moments waking up, the first couple of days, him telling them about himself. Their first day out, the doctor visit, the little bumps those entailed, making sure to downplay Jamie’s outbursts but also sticking up for him. They talked about the day at the beach; Becky wasn’t sure how to handle that, remembering the reaction of the woman on the beach when Jamie had swam on his own. She elided the truth. Becky talked about what a good swimmer he was; she left out the part about how far out he’d gone, and alone. They talked about the park visits, how Jamie played with Rosie and let the slower kids win. Becky did mention the bigoted woman and how she had decided not to tell Jamie about her. She talked about her preparations for daycare. “Thank you, both. That’s all very helpful. Can you tell me more about Jamie himself? What he’s like?” Sure, Becky thought, ask the most complicated question you possibly could. Becky tried to answer first. “I guess, first, he’s a very old soul. It surprises you sometimes, the things he says, a lot of wisdom, little or not. I love that about him; I’d hate to see him lose that, even though I do want him to be a little more … carefree. I think that’s why he’s … very … independent minded. He’s not regressed, as you know, so he … he needs to be treated appropriately for a little who has all his … faculties.” Amanda tried to explain better. “Like when the nurse treated him like he wasn’t even there, Jamie let her know he was there. He doesn’t like being talked to as though he were regressed, and he hates being treated like it.” “But he’s accepted a lot of things that come naturally to regressed littles,” Becky explained, “Like he loves taking a bottle from either of us, and he does use his pacifier when he wants to. He’s virtually attached to his teddy bear half the day. He’s really starting to open up and embrace his littleness.” “He really is just the sweetest, sweetest boy. If you show him you respect him and care about him, he’ll dive right into your lap. He’s my snuggle buddy.” Amanda’s voice made it clear how much she meant every word. Even the last part, though she knew it wasn’t true last night, not that she’d tell Marsha. “His case worker on the other side mentioned some emotional issues. How is that coming?” Amanda felt most ready to answer that, and Becky thought so, too. “A lot of that has to do with his background. He grew up without a family, as you probably know, and he carries a lot of guilt about people he feels he’s failed. When he first arrived, he was … it was all very fresh. The leaving only made him feel guiltier. He got sad very easily, and he still does cry easily. He … I wouldn’t say he has anger management issues; he does have some anger, mostly with himself.” Amanda paused and considered. “Right now he’s doing really well. He hasn’t talked about that stuff in a while. He’s been doing a really good job of staying calm and thinking through his words and actions when he gets angry; I’d even say he doesn’t get angry at others very often. I think that was more of an adjustment issue, suddenly having the freedom to let negative emotions out that he had to hold in before.” “So you think he’s getting better,” Marsha asked Amanda nodded a few times, looking but not focusing on the table as she started to answer. “I think he’s getting better at managing those things. I think a lot of that has to do with so much newness in his life he doesn’t have to deal with those memories and feelings. So we know they haven’t gone anywhere … and when things settle down a lot of that will probably come back to the surface.” “Rebecca, anything to add?” “No. I think Amanda covered that very well.” Marsha nodded. “How do you plan to address that?” Becky and Amanda had only talked a little bit about this. “We want to get him settled in day care and get him into that routine. Then in a little bit we’re going to take him to see a therapist. We’ve been looking, but it’s hard to find one who has experience with unregressed littles.” Amanda added, “And we make sure he knows that he can tell us anything, and we’ll listen, and that we love him no matter what. And we show it every way we can.” Her eyes got misty. Becky took over, “Very slowly, we’re helping him discover who he really is. We think the more he can learn to trust us and depend on us, the easier it will be for him to let go of some of those negative emotions.” “But we’re moving at his pace,” Amanda added. “We’re not going to force anything on him. We want him to grow into his … “littlehood” his own way and at his own pace.” But that’s not what I did when I didn’t tell mom he can control his functions, she thought. She felt guilty; she hadn’t last night. “Thank you for all that,” Marsha said. “I think I’m ready to talk to Jamie, unless there’s anything else you want to tell me.” Becky shrugged and Amanda nodded. “I think that’s everything.” “Great.” Marsh folded the tablet she’d been taking notes on. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll talk to Jamie in his room.” “Of course. He’s in his playpen in the living room, and his room is down the hall to the right.” Becky had a sudden thought. “I’m so sorry; I have no manners today. Can we get you anything? Glass of water?” Map back to where your own business is, Becky said to herself. She knew that wasn’t fair. Jamie was his business, and she knew that was the right thing, in fact the only way this could be done safely without Itali risking turning into one of the countries where littles could be so badly mistreated, tortured even. “No, thank you very much. I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me?” Becky and Amada stood, and Marsha went to the living room. “How do you think that went,” Becky asked in a hushed tone. “I don’t know. I hope we didn’t make him sound like some angry basket case.” “I think it’s probably good to show we know he has his struggles and we’re helping him through them.” “Yeah. Still. I just hope the part she heard most was how much we love him and what a sweet boy he is.” Jamie worked on his coloring book and thought back on his experience with these things, from both sides. He knew parents and foster parents sometimes lied; sometimes to hide something they rightly feared becoming known, more often because they were afraid of something innocent being misinterpreted or taken out of context. He knew kids sometimes lied; sometimes because they were afraid of the parents or foster parents, more often because they had stability in their lives and didn’t want to risk it. He’d had that mentality sometimes: this isn’t perfect, maybe not even good, but it’s the devil you know. Jamie always hoped he’d found out the malicious liars, but it was, by definition, something he could not know. Right now, his instinct was to say anything that would maintain the stability he had worked so hard for. Marsha appeared above the playpen. Twelve feet tall and quiet like an upside down mouse, he mused. “Hey, Jamie. You ready for us to talk?” He sighed quietly. “Yeah.” Let’s do this, he thought. “What did you draw there?” He showed her his coloring book. “Wow! Such a good job staying inside the lines.” He’d have taken umbrage at the implication, but the book was so intricate and the cells so small, it was difficult to stay inside the lines. She picked him up, and he managed to snag his bear. He expected to be put down, but instead she carried him on her hip to his room and patted his diaper to check it. Ya know, he thought, I wouldn’t carry you without asking first, or touch your butt. Instead of pouting, he put on his I’m-so-happy-to-be-here-don’t-make-me-leave face. In his room, he sat in his recliner and she sat in the rocking chair. They went through the same list of questions he had gone through so many times before. They might as well have read from the same textbooks in graduate school. He knew what she was going to ask. His answers were honest, but he downplayed the rough bits. As to how he was feeling emotionally, his simply answered “better.” Did he want to elaborate on that? “No.” For a woman who hadn’t made the best first impression and been awfully presumptuous in picking him up like that, she talked to him now like the unregressed little he was. “Jamie, my next two questions, I want you to answer especially truthfully. And remember, I’m just here today to get information, okay?” He nodded, not that the implication of “today” was lost on him. “How do you feel about Rebecca?” He took a deep breath. “We had a bit of a rocky start. She and I didn’t exactly understand each other at first. Her instinct was to … treat me more like a typical little. I mean, I’ve never doubted that she loves me; she’s always done what she thought would keep me safe and make me happy. And I do feel safe with her. And she makes me happy. I’m glad we found each other.” He msiled and nodded to no one, just think of serendipity, and the work Cheryl had put into bringing them together, and Amanda’s desire to help someone she saw in need of help. “It was just at first, a little too little, I guess. But that’s gotten much better. We’re on the same page now. And she really stands up for me now, if anyone makes the same mistake she made at first.” “What do you think helped her to change her perspective on you?” “Amanda.” “What makes you say that?” “I just know. Amanda got me pretty much from the start. She’s been my advocate all along. I think she and Becky have had a couple long talks that helped Becky see me more for who I am.” “Tell me more about Amanda.” He smiled and held in a single laugh. “She’s …” His smile faded, and his eyes felt just a little wet. “I’d be lost without her. She’s … always listened to me; always been kind to me; always reassured me. She’s … she’s been right about everything so far. When I don’t understand things, or when I’ve gotten upset, she’s taught me … and helped me deal with my feelings, and taught me how to deal with them next time.” He paused. “She sounds like quite a big sister.” Jamie didn’t hear her. “That first night here …” It was a terrible and wonderful memory. How deeply he remembered it. He took back the moment and heard his own sobbing and whimpers; he felt the rocking motion; he felt the warmth of her again; he remembered each word; he remembered that, in the dark, she had made him feel safe and loved; he remembered the softness of her on his cheek and the strong grip of her arms holding him as though she’d never let him go, not even after she opened her arms; he felt her tear-wet shirt; he remembered her smell; he remembered her kiss. His voice broke, and he fought to hold in his tears. “She … I couldn’t be here without her. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Not for a minute.” He didn’t say anything for several seconds, and Marsha didn’t interject. “She and Becky – they’re a team. I need both of them … I like needing both of them. We’re a team.” Marsha made sure he was finished. “You love them.” Jamie smiled and sat back up, sniffing back a runny nose and not too thoroughly wiping an eye. “Yes. Both of them. Very much.” “We can go back out, unless there’s anything else you want to say.” “No. Thank you.” They stood to go back to the kitchen. “What’s that on your wall?” She was looking at the finger board. “Oh, that’s a puzzle Amanda hung there.” “How does it work?” “Ya know, I haven’t solved it yet.” So one lie. Jamie walked back to the kitchen with Marsha, who smiled reassuringly and told them they’d be very pleased with her report. Becky saw her to the door. In the kitchen alone with Amanda, Jamie, a little sheepishly, tugged on her pants for her attention, and she smiled one of her biggest smiles as she picked up and hugged him tight. “I missed you,” she said. “I didn’t go anywhere.” “You went far enough. I’m sorry, about … you know. I should have said something when I first figured it out.” “I forgive you. I know why you didn’t.” He left his head on her shoulder; she smelled the same way she had that first night. “Manda?” “Yeah, buddy?” “I love you.” “Oh. I love you, too.” Becky came back to the kitchen and found her two favorite people teary eyed. “What’s wrong?” Amanda passed Jamie to her mom, and Jamie put his head down on her shoulder to. As she gently placed him Becky’s arms, Amanda said, “Jamie was something he wants to say to you.” “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” She rubbed his back, amused at what seemed his sudden shyness. “I love you, Mom.” Jamie’s two favorite people had tears in their eyes. So did he. They were making a habit of teary eyes, a risk Becky and Amanda accepted. It’s just the risk you take when you decide to share your home and heart with a little.

I just finished writing Part 16 and I think it's my favorite part yet, so I'm going to put up another one now so we get closer to it faster. I'll post Parts 10 and 11 tomorrow. Part 9Instead of going home, the car pulled into a parking lot. I looked around at all the other cars, wondering where we were. April turned off the parked car and climbed out, but rather than pulling me out of the car, she sat down in the back next to my car seat and handed me one of the sandwich squares. I squealed with glee, took a giant bite and was chewing it happily."Tank ooo", I said sheepishly, my mouth stuffed full of the delicious sandwich."You're welcome sweetie, please don't choke on that okay?" April laughed and stroked my hair while I munched on the sandwich. This was bliss, the sandwich was amazing and I could feel the love radiating from April as she watched me. When the square was finished, she held a bottle to my lips and I drank happily.. the apple juice wasn't as good as the milk they had at the LittleGarden, but it was still tasty. April made me drink about half the bottle before giving me the last square of the sandwich, which I devoured greedily."It's like you're the very Little that they designed the food for," April laughed again, "If I had known you'd take to the Littles food so well, I would have bought some already. I figured you'd want my food.""Your food is really good," I said before the nipple of the juice bottle found its way back into my mouth. I drained the second half of the bottle and April carried me into the grocery store. I bounced excitedly in her arms, "Are we going to buy some peanut butter and jelly?""Yes Kimmy," April laughed."Can I have a peanut butter sandwich for lunch tomorrow?""Of course, sweetie. I'm almost certainly going back to the studio tomorrow though, we rarely get everything in one session like that," she replied as we reached the shopping carts inside the store. "Hm. I didn't bring you in your carrier because I wanted to hold you so much, let's see if you'll fit safely in the front of the cart." She lowered me into the seat in the front of the cart, but April frowned. "No, you're just too little. Look at all the space you have, you could fall out.""I'll hold on tight, I won't fall. I promise." I gripped onto the shopping cart's push bar."No sweetie, it's not safe. This seat isn't for Littles as small as you. We'll just go back to the car and get your... Oh," I followed her gaze and saw that they had a cart with a carrier built into the front instead of the wire seats like most shopping cars had, "Let's see if this will work."I let go of the bar and didn't resist as she lifted me out of the first shopping cart, placed me into the carrier, and buckled me in. I was reclined pretty far back, but I could still look around and I could see April fine, which was better than if my carrier were attached to the cart like normal. This seemed like a reasonable compromise."Why am I smaller than other Littles? I was short but not super short back home," I asked."I don't know dear, I believe it has something to do with how much care you'll need when you come across to our dimension, smaller Littles need more care. That's why there are so many rules for you, we've learned what your risks are over time. I think you came through smaller than you were supposed to be though, you clever little thing." She booped my nose and we headed into the store."Can you tell the LittleGarden people that I'm twelve months so I can sit at the tables for lunch? I can eat a sandwich without help.""Sorry sweetie," April smiled sadly at me, "Your adoption papers have you listed at 10 months, I was pushing it by saying 11. I'm glad they gave you a sandwich, though - so you got a little bit extra there. Now shh, be a good girl." She popped my pacifier in my mouth as we continued on, "We are in public, so I expect the best behavior out of you."I had a much better view than usual of the store in this cart, I could actually see other shoppers and more than just what was to the immediate left of the cart. It was still early afternoon on what I assumed was a weekday, so it wasn't too crowded. I did notice that about three out of every four Amazons had a Little either in their cart or tagging along beside them, I didn't see too many other carrier-bound Littles though. I felt intensely jealous of the walkers. I sucked on the pacifier loudly, which earned me a fond look and a smile from April, and we headed down an aisle marked "Foods for Your Little".I looked around for the peanut butter, I hoped we could find the same kind that the LittleGarden had... although I wasn't sure which one that was. And then I saw the cookies.. my favorite cookies from back home, my comfort food.. chocolate cookies with chocolate filling."Oh, I want those!" I pointed and called as the pacifier fell out of my mouth."That's not the way this works," April said, irritated as she put the pacifier back in my mouth, "Firstly, that was terrible manners. Secondly, you don't get to pick the food. You don't know what's good for you.""I'm sorry, may I please have those chocolate cookies? They are my favorite, please," I said much more quietly, taking the pacifier out of my mouth with my hand slowly."That's much better, little one," April said calmly, but she put the pacifier back in my mouth and pumped the shield, inflating the nipple and silencing me, "but I think we need some quiet time so you can think about your manners."I had been silenced many, many times by April but for some reason, this one stung. I felt tears welling up in my eyes but I nodded. April stroked my cheek and wiped away a tear. She reached up and grabbed a package of the cookies and started reading the back. I sniffled and tried to get my emotions under control while she read the package."I think we can get these as long as we save them as a special treat," April placed the cookies in the cart behind me. She looked down and paused, studying me, "Let's try this," she said and deflated the pacifier nipple and pumped it again, but only twice. I could feel the pacifier nipple filling my mouth but I could still move my tongue around a bit. I knew from experience that I could push the pacifier out of my mouth now, but April had something in mind."Tank ooo," I managed around the paci."Ah, perfect - I think that's a nice compromise, don't you? You get a reminder to watch your manners, but it's not a punishment like quiet time," she smile. I nodded and we continued down the aisle.I clapped when she put the peanut butter and jelly in the cart, she picked strawberry jelly which was my favorite. She also grabbed a box of something called "LittleMunch" that looked like some kind of cereal. The last thing she grabbed from the Littles aisle was a box of lollipops, which made me smile. "Pwease!" I said as we were turning the corner, I saw something called "Littles' Juice" and pointed. If Littles' Chocolate was so amazingly good, maybe Littles' Juice would make every bottle that good."I don't know..." April said as she picked up the jug, turning it over. "Ah - yep, this one has a regression chemical in it. You have to watch carefully for these. The foods I've picked for you don't have this. If I fed this juice to you, you'd love it... but you also might forget how to walk and we don't want that."I looked horrified."Oh sweetie," April stroked my cheek, "Some Littles need a little help adjusting. You don't, but you're so little that we need to be extra careful about things like that. Some Littles just can't let go and enjoy their new life, some Littles are just so wrapped up in what they used to have or what they used to do, their mommy or daddy has to give them something to help them let go.""An I eba oh back?" I struggled to communicate my question around the pacifier.April looked intensely sad, it was a question I hadn't asked since those first days when all I thought about was finding my way home. I guess she thought I had given up.. and I think I broke a little part of her by asking."I sowwy," I made a heart with my hands, "I wuv oo."April smiled a little smile and said, "I love you too, sweetie. We'll talk about this later, okay? We still have a few things to get," she booped my nose, I smiled - I liked it when she did that, "and I can't eat Little food, so let's get some Amazon food too, huh?"--As we checked out, I heard a scream. I turned to look, but it was hard to see. A Little boy was struggling to get away from an Amazon woman who was dragging him toward the exit."No! No! I'm not a baby! Let me go this instant, you giant monster! Release me, I've had absolutely enough of you and your treatme- OW!"The Amazon was now seated on a bench and was spanking the Little, she was holding him down and seemed to be hitting him really hard... they were so much stronger than we were, he had to be in agony. I heard another Little a few aisles over in another checkout lane start to cry loudly."Uh oh," the cashier said, still scanning our items, "Looks like we've got a chain reaction. Is your Little going to be okay?"Sure enough, wails erupted from several places in and around the checkouts as Little emotions flooded over."I think so," April eyed me. I sucked on my pacifier to show her she didn't need to inflate it. Littles all around were being shushed, soothed, and silenced. The Little boy who tried to escape was crying his heart out, broken for the moment. It made me so glad that I had April, the one time I did try to run she just hugged me tight and told me how scared she was. She kept a closer eye on me after that, true, but I was realizing more and more how lucky I was that this particular Amazon had me. April was something special."What a good girl!" the cashier exclaimed, but quietly. "Did you get one of those ABs?""No," April smiled, "Kimmy is just a good girl. I've found that if you show your Little that you really, truly love them and you explain what's going on, they will love you back and everything will be okay." There was still a trace of sadness in her voice from my earlier question and my cheeks burned with shame."Aww, that's so sweet," the cashier melted, "May I give her a lollipop for being such a good girl?"April nodded and the cashier handed me a lollipop that looked different from the ones that April bought, and that made me wary."Tank ooo," I said as I accepted the gift from her giant hand."Oh my goodness, what a darling.""I'm really lucky to have her," April said. She paid for the groceries and we headed to the car."Dif fafe?" I held out the lollipop to April, who smiled."Maybe," she said as she took it from me, "but let's not take the chance, huh? I bought you some lollipops that I know are safe, you can still have one. You earned it by being such a good girl."