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.

This was a story I wrote back in 2022 as a gift to someone, I decided to re upload it here. I hope someone here enjoys it! ----------------------------------------------- Girl's Day Out The two figures of Rose Lalonde and Jane Crocker sat silently in their respective stroller seats. They didn’t say anything because of course they couldn’t. They both had their pacifier gags in their mouths. Although their legs and arms were already strapped to the sides of the large baby stroller, The looming figure of the Condesce leaned over them to strap seat-belts over their bodies. “Now, isn’t that betta?” She said. “Not gunna be getting no trouble from you two anymoray!”. She explained. The woman couldn’t do anything but squirm, glaring up at their captor, resenting every moment of this while the troll on the other hand was relishing every moment. Rose and Jane wore matching outfits, bows in their short cut hair, purple and blue onesies along with fuzzy gloves an booties that made their hands and feet practically useless. Around their necks were bibs that caught whatever drool that might have come from their mouths. The most damning feature about the pair was the thick crinkly padding around each of their waists. They both wore large thick diapers that fit tightly around their waists, spreading their legs and making it impossible for them to close their legs. Jane gave an undignified moan through her pacifier gag as the troll placed the seat-belt across her waist. “Now don’t be whining or I’ll make ya something to whine about!”. The Condesce said as she held up a small remote, flicking it on. Each of them had a vibrator bullet pressed up to each side of their crotches, not directly on their private parts but just close enough for them to feel every sensation from the toys and have them driving up the wall. Jane and Rose both gave out respective groans upon feeling the vibrators start up. “That should carp you two quiet for a while!”. The Condesce said with a cackle, watching the two girl’s face’s flush red from the sensation. The walked away and returned to with large bottles of milk. “Now, let’s get ya both proper filled up!”. She said. When she said “Proper filled up”. She really meant it as well. Starting with Jane who she seemed to have more of an affinity for- she took turns feeding the human’s bottles of milk, removing their pacifier gags and holding the nipple in their mouths until every last drop of the liquid was down their throats. Rose felt that her stomach was full, but was forced to drink the entire bottle, giving a few little series of coughs when she was done, and spitting milk up onto her bib as she did so. “Please no more m-MHMMHPM!”. She would say before the pacifier gag was unceremoniously placed back into her mouth. The Condesce gave a tutting sound as she waved her finger. “That’s not how good little babies speak to their mothers!”. She said, flipping the switch of the vibrator on once more. Jane tried to squeeze her legs together upon feeling the motion of the toys inside her diaper. It was safe to say that if one of them even thought of acting up or saying anything out of line, then the other girl would feel the repercussions of their actions together. “Now, what say I take you boat on a nice stroll through town huh?”. She asked the pair, not waiting for a response. The two humans couldn’t do anything as they were strolled down a busy street, blushing every time a troll would pass them. Some would make embarrassing and downright degrading comments, sometimes right to their face. But no matter how much they hated it, they knew that any complaining from either of them would face punishment. “You betta be getting use to this little ones, because we are going to be doing this for a long time!”. The Condesce said to them, stopping the stroller in front of what looked like an alien shop. “Stay right here, I’ll be right back!”. She gave a cackle as she entered the building, leaving Rose and Jane alone. Both of them gave a gasp almost instantly as they felt the vibrators start up again on the inside of their thighs. “Oh, almost forgot!”. The troll would be heard saying as her footsteps once again disappeared. Rose closed her eyes, her face and neck going bright red as she felt the pressure from the vibrators on her crotch. She didn’t know if the Condesce would be able to hear her or not, but she kept as quiet as she possibly could, only small gasps and whimpers escaping her mouth. Jane on the other hand was very noisy, squirming in her seat, and moaning and making lots of noises through her own pacifier gag. She squeezed her legs together, the crinkling of the diaper only contributing to the noise and feeling of the vibrator. Of course this spectacle wouldn’t go unnoticed by anyone walking past and soon a small crowd would form around the two humans in the crib. Rose tried to ignore the feeling of all those yellow alien eyes watching her, but it was very hard when people were constantly reaching to touch you. “Ah, I see you met my babies?”. The voice of the Condesce would be heard again as the pair would feel the handles of the stroller being taken once again. The small crowd all cooing and started taking pictures of the pair. Rose and Jade would feel the prying eyes and hands on their bodies, rubbing their stomach and hair as well as their diapers. This only caused further embarrassment to them both, Rose jerking her head away from the hands on her body. “Now, behave your two!”. The Condesce told them, turning up the vibrators up another notch. Jane let out a muffled staggered moan, her body stiffing up as she would be the first to orgasm in her diaper. Rose’s eyes widen as she squirmed in her seat, leaning her body away from Jane. The girl’s head flipped up and her face went bright red as her chest heaved up a down. Rose squeezed her legs together as well as she felt pleasure run through her own body. Soon joining Jane as she would orgasm in her own diaper, cute stifled noises and moans coming from her mouth. The Condesce smiled down at them. “I think ya’ both had a big enough day, let’s get you back home”. She said, pushing them down the street and back to were she came from. The pair were both exhausted from the result of the toys, the humiliation, and the length of the day. Soon Rose found her eyes fluttering as she begin to drift off to sleep. She woke up a while later, not sure how much later but she found herself still in the stroller. The sudden pang from her bladder was what jolted her fully awake. She squirmed in her seat, looking over at the face of the Condesce. “Aww, does someone need to go?”. She said, reaching down to press on Rose’s crotch. “Don’t worry. Let it allll out!”. She said, encouraging her. Of course once her bladder was pressed on so suddenly she couldn’t help herself and the entirety of what she had been drinking earlier emptied out into her diaper, a faint hissing sound the only thing that was heard for a solid minute as she felt the padding sag and swell up around her waist. All she could do was close her eyes, waiting for it to be over. Then to the Condesce's delight, Jane let out a muffled noise of her own, hearing the same noise coming from her as she would join Rose in wetting her diapers. Soon they would both be completely soaking the padding around their waists. Their diapers now stained a light shade of yellow. “Good job girls!” The Condesce commented, giving each of their diapers a squeeze, the padding making a respective sloshing sound. “But, you know I won’t change you until you both completely use them!”. She said, pushing the stroller across a busy street. Both of the humans looked at each other, sucking on their pacifier gags in worry and in reflex. Jane's stomach gave a gurgling noise which cause the troll to smile widely, unzipping the diaper bag she had with her just in case. It was going to be a long day and she knew it. ----------------------------------------------- Let me know if I should do a follow up to, or continue this story, any ideas or feedback would be appreciated!

I truly believe I’m somewhere in the middle of your two choices. I think I fall between 18 and 24 months. I think that would be the early toddler stage. Walking, some words, still drinking from a bottle, eating in a high chair, playing in a playpen, diapered and sleeping in a crib in my nursery. All of these are true with me and its the best stage to be.

Actually, I did not mix them up; Millicent was the one speaking, but Winifred had turned to face her...but you did point out that it was vague who was speaking, so thank you so much, Panther~ And...well, definitely a lot more than just soggy~ :3 Anyway, here comes the third chapter: - Chapter Three: A Sea Shanty. - “HEY!” Grace was having a good dream when Florence’s high-pitched soprano cut through. The pantheress groaned, getting to her paws, when she saw the black-furred vixen looking down at her with a smug look on her face. “It’s night’s death,” Florence said with a smirk, “and there’s no more mist.” Grace felt so tired…but the captain was right. The mist had vanished, revealing an absolutely beautiful forest with a river that was big enough for their frigate to pass through to their immediate left. She got to her paws unsteadily, towering over her captain, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. “Everyone, stir your paws; we have a lot of rowing ahead of us!” the pantheress roared, shocking every one of the crew into wakefulness. Agnes glowered at Grace, but she ignored the cougaress and got an oar out, ready to row alongside Florence. “Told you this was it, didn’t I?” Florence whispered with a snicker. “We’re all going to be so rich-” “If someone hasn’t already pilfered the ship before, Flory,” Agnes said, sniffing in disdain. “HOW MANY GODDAMNED TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU ALL NOT TO CALL ME THAT?! HOW - MANY - GODDAMNED - TIMES?!” All of the felines were shocked at the reaction from the vixen captain. Not that she had shouted at them (part of being on a ship was that shouting was not only expected, but necessary), not that she had told them not to call her by that name (even though they would say it behind her back), but by the flowing tears in her eyes that leaked down her face, for Florence never cried. She quickly wiped them away, rubbing the fur on her temple again. “Sorry, I just…there’s treasure to get to.” The steely-eyed look of sheer determination was back. “If I have to go on a rowboat alone to bring it back, I will. But I’m not leaving without this. This is our time. Let’s shine like the constellations in the sky, okay, ladies?” The crew gave a collective sigh and got to their oars. “Hey, Avi, give us a tune, all right?” Grace’s voice boomed, as the cheetah, the only animal not rowing, brought out a fiddle and started a small shanty in a beautiful soprano tone. “I thought I heard the old bird say, ‘Leave him, Janey, leave him.’ Tomorrow, ye will get your pay-" “And it’s time for us to leave him!” the rest of them sang, getting in tune, rowing down the largest river, as the leafy forest quickly passed by in shades of green. “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!” “Oh, the wind was foul, and the sea ran high-” “Leave him, Janey, leave him!” “He shipped it green an’ none went by-” “And it’s time for us to leave him!” The river’s rapids were drowned out by the singing. To Grace, it almost seemed like the Catastrophe was in a whirlpool spiraling downward, except it was more…peaceful than a whirlpool. Maybe it was them singing? Who knew? “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!” “I hate to sail on this rotten tub-” “Leave him, Janey, leave him!” “No grog allowed and rotten grub-” “And it’s time for us to leave him!” Grace saw something with her keen eyes. A lake? Maybe… “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!” “We swear by rote for want of more-” “Leave him, Janey, leave him!” “But now we’re through, so we’ll go onshore-” “And it’s time for us to leave him! Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!” They had gotten to a giant lake, the waterfall crashing down in a cascade of rainbows, the sunlight clear. “This…this is not on any map I’ve ever done,” Isabel said, her face pale. “This is the legend!” Florence’s tone was filled with excitement, almost a squeak before she cleared her throat. “This is it. Now let’s search for the ship, a league away from the waterfall, directly. Emma, take the helm! Isabel, your telescope! Everyone else, half sails!” “You heard the captain, half sails!” Grace’s voice boomed. The winds were surprisingly gentle, almost like a summer breeze than a spring gale, and they carried the Catastrophe. Grace then overheard a whispered conversation between the lioness and tigress sisters. “What if it’s…taking us there?” Cecily whispered. “What do you mean ‘taking’?” Sybil whispered back to her sister. “Like…the winds are far too gentle and the waves too light. This is the beginning of spring, everyone knows the story that goes with it. Harsh winds, rain, heavy waves…this has none of that.” “So you’re saying this treasure wants to be found?” “I’m saying this isn’t close to being natural. I don’t know if it’s a curse, but…” “It’s good luck!” Florence had finally overheard, clapping both sisters on their backs in excitement. Grace had not wanted to step in…for the sisters did have a point. The weather had changed far too quickly. The river had taken them down to the lake far too quickly. It was a little suspicious, to say the least. What if it’s the curse? she thought. What if that voodoo woman wanted the curse to continue, continue seducing the pirates that killed her love? What were the words she said for that curse? What were the words…? But as much as the pantheress searched her mind for the answers…it floated away, a scrap of paper on the wind, fluttering into the heavens for God to read. The words were right there, but she had no luck remembering. This is not right…something about all of this is very, VERY wrong… “Captain Florence?” she said to the vixen, whose paws were holding a telescope to peer in the distance. “Yes, Grace?” She had not moved from her position, her eyes still fixed to the telescope. “I just…don’t you think it’s a tad…odd?” “Odd?” “Yes. The weather’s changed for the better, the river’s taken us down without a single shallow, it’s just…are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” “Are you saying there’s a so-called ‘curse’, Quartermistress?” The terse tone cut through the air, as the crew watched the two talk, the silence from all but vixen and pantheress so still that one could’ve dropped a feather on a field of grass and it would’ve made a sound. “I’m saying that we should tread with massive caution. Surely you heard of the words regarding this?” “Quartermistress, I don’t give a damn what you or the rest of the crew think about a supposed 'curse'.” Grace took a step back in shock as Florence snapped the telescope shut to glare daggers at her, her yellow eyes barely able to meet her captain’s green gaze. “There is no such thing. It’s a bunch of superstitious drivel by old pirates past their time that I don’t have patience for, that I’ve never believed in. We are a skilled, clever, and - yes - a very lucky crew to have the weather shift for the better after getting here, but don’t give me any shit about curses. “This is a score for us, we’re lucky, we will get to retire early, and nobody will bother us ever again. We will NEVER go hungry ever again! We will NEVER want for anything ever again! And if you and the rest want to pursue the life of a family, that’s all well and fine, but I’m going to be spending my time with my share of the treasure ALONE! I am SICK AND TIRED of being second-guessed by EVERYONE HERE! IF THIS IS FAMILY-” the word spat out with so much venom that the entire crew bit their lips to stop from crying. “-I WANT NO PART OF IT! IF THIS IS FAMILY, I’M BETTER OFF ALONE!” Grace was crying at this point…but she noticed that the black fox was crying as well. Only Emma had seen what was ahead. The snow leopardess bellowed, “SHIP AHEAD!” “There, now will you stop second-guessing me, all of you?” Florence snapped, as the ship came into view, as the crew milled around, staring at the vessel in shock. It was a giant galleon, astonishingly looking quite well for the time it had been there, the black-painted teak woods gleaming in the sunlight. The anchors had been lowered, and barnacles had grown on the underside and the metal. The sails were torn, no, ripped to shreds, as if by some wild beast. It dwarfed the Catastrophe by a large amount. “Emma, wheel around the anchors, settle to its starboard!” Florence shouted out. “The rest of you, get a gangplank to board. Jump to it!” The Catastrophe had found The Dying Night. The captain and crew would soon wish they had left it well enough alone. - Well, this is a real (and very old) sea shanty (my favorite from AC4: Black Flag, XD), called "Leave Her, Johnny". Yes, the song is normally talking about the ship, and yes, ships are always female, but I couldn't resist doing a bit of a gender turn. Not for the ship, but the song. But yes, I'm excited to get this chapter out to you guys. Until next time~

Does she also change his wet and messy diapers? 😉

Mission Improbable (Part 6 of 13) Tracy knew that Kat was a bit of a social chameleon, but what opened the door still surprised her. Kat's hair was no longer slicked back like it had been earlier that day. Instead, it was back to the messy rats' nest that she had ended up with after getting rid of the dreadlocks a couple of months earlier. Also, the severe suit had vanished in favour of black sweatpants and tank top, and an honest-to-god flowery apron. "You doing the whole hausfrau-chic?" Tracy couldn't resist a grin. Kat ignored Tracy's comment and helped her roll the suitcase inside. "So why did you bring half your office with you?" Kat pushed the suitcase to the side. "Marko cleared it of physical bugs but I still need to run a full malware check on everything. Mind if I just get that started?" "That depends." Kat wrapped her arms around Tracy and pulled her close. "We should probably get you changed first. I mean, if you're wet." Kat slid her hands down to cup Tracy's buttocks and gave them a squeeze. Then she stopped. "Where's your diaper?" Kat asked sternly. Tracy felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. "I had to take it off. I was all sweaty and itchy." Tracy couldn't help marvelling at how Kat could make her feel like a misbehaving, little girl with a single sentence. "And did you have permission to do that?" "Kaaat," Tracy whined. "Did you?" Kat repeated. "No," Tracy admitted with a slight pout. "Bedroom. Now." Kat stepped back and pointed to her bedroom door. "Really?" Kat set her bag on the floor. "You're the one who made the rules, not me." Tracy knew she couldn't win and headed for the bedroom. Kat took off her apron before picking up Tracy's bag and following her. Kat closed the curtains and turned to Tracy. "Now, undress." "Seriously?" Kat gave her a cold stare. "If you keep misbehaving, I'll put you in a onesie for the rest of the night." "You wouldn't." "Wanna bet?" Kat raised an eyebrow. Tracy looked back at Kat and saw she was not kidding. "No," she said and lowered her eyes. "I'll be good." Tracy took a breath. "But can I use the bathroom first? I really have to go." "That's what the diaper is for," Tracy pointed out. "Yeah, but not this." Kat paused as she realised just what Tracy was saying. "Okay, but make it quick. And you're coming straight back to the bedroom afterwards." Tracy dashed out of Kat's shack and almost ran the house. She knocked on the door and waited for a few moments before entering. "Don't mind me. I just have to use the bathroom." Jessie was sitting at the desk working on something that looked like a spreadsheet on her computer and Tracy could hear Diego doing something in the kitchen. "Oh, hey Tracy," Jessie said as she looked up. "How's business?" Tracy shrugged. "Okay, I guess. If somebody's bugging my office, I must be doing something right, right?" "Seriously?" "I have Marko cleaning out my office." "Marko? The..." Jessie whistled a cuckoo and twirled her finger at her temple. "Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, he's debugging the office so I'm staying with Kat tonight." "Oh, I'm sure that's the only reason," Jessie said and smirked. Tracy felt her cheeks grow warm. She was pretty sure Jessie only thought she was sleeping with Kat, and that she had no idea about the diapers. "Yeah, anyway, I just have to use the bathroom." Tracy inched her way towards the bathroom, suddenly eager to get out of the conversation. "Sure, sure. I can take a hint." Jessie chuckled and returned to her spreadsheet. Tracy ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Ten minutes later, Tracy re-emerged, feeling a lot lighter. Diego was on the sofa, channel surfing with one hand and eating a sandwich with the other. "You two crazy kids have fun then, while me and Jessie play the old married couple." Diego half-saluted her with his sandwich. Tracy hurried back to Kat's shack. As she opened the door, Kat's voice greeted her. "Well, you certainly took your time." "Sorry." Tracy headed for the bedroom. When she entered, she saw Kat had spread a towel on the bed and was sitting on it, fidgeting with one of Tracy's thick night diapers. She put the diaper down and rose, stepping close to Tracy. "Diaper time," Kat said quietly. "Undress." Tracy slowly undid her jeans and pulled them down along with her underwear. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the pants. Kat walked around her, tracing a feather-light line along Tracy's hip and across her left butt cheek with a single finger. There was a creak as she stepped onto the bed. She reached over Tracy's shoulder with one hand and grabbed her chin, pulling her head back gently, but firmly. "More," she whispered in Tracy's ear, and let go, stepping off the bed and walking around to face Tracy again. Tracy swallowed and pulled her t-shirt up and over her head, then dropping it on the floor next to the jeans. Kat reached up and slowly stroked Tracy's cheek and down her neck. "More," she whispered, barely audibly. Tracy struggled to pull the sports bra up the same way as her t-shirt, but its tightness made it hard to make it look as casual as the t-shirt. In the end, though, it joined the other clothes on the floor. "Such a good girl." Tracy felt herself blush at the compliment. How is she doing that? "Now lie down." Tracy sat down on the bed and lay back. Kat put a hand on each knee and spread Tracy's legs before crawling onto the bed to kneel between them. "Lift your butt sweetie." Tracy did what she was told and felt Kat slide something in under her. When she lowered her hips again, she felt the all too familiar paper-like sensation of a diaper. She let out an involuntary, little giggle. "You like that?" "Mm-hmm." Tracy bit her lip and nodded. Kat gave her a generous dusting of baby powder and pulled the diaper up. Tracy wriggled her hips and tried to make contact with Kat's hand through the thick padding. Kat smiled and gave Tracy's diapered crotch a light slap. "That's no way for a good, little girl to behave." "I'm sorry," Tracy said and pouted. Kat adjusted the diaper and taped it in place. "There; much better," she concluded and crawled backwards out from between Tracy's legs. "No snuggles?" Tracy asked and made big Bambi-eyes at her. Kat laughed. "Later Häschen. I have to keep an eye on the dinner. Now, you get dressed so you can fix your computer before we eat." She turned around and left the bedroom. For a little while, Tracy just lay there in the orange gloom created by the late afternoon sun filtering through Kat's curtains. Then she sighed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Sitting up, Tracy realised that the diaper Kat had put her in was far too thick for her to wear her jeans. She looked around, trying to find the overnight bag of clothes she kept at Kat's. "Kat?" she called out. "Where did you hide my spare clothes?" "Bottom drawer." "Oooo, I have a drawer? That practically means I've moved in. Are we going steady?" Tracy asked teasingly. "Well, I have to take care of my little baby, don't I? Now get dressed. dinner is almost ready." "Yes, mom." Tracy pulled out the bottom drawer in the dresser next to the bed and found a pair of burgundy sweat pants and a white t-shirt. She got dressed and tied the drawstring so the pants wouldn't just fall off. When she walked out of the bedroom, the diaper made her waddle a little. "Kat? Did you have to use the night diapers? You know they make me walk funny." Kat turned to look at her. "But I love that sexy, little waddle of yours," she said. "Now come and taste." Kat dipped a teaspoon in the steaming pot and held it out to Tracy. Tracy let Kat feed her the teaspoon of tomato sauce. The taste of tomato and onion and herbs filled her mouth, quickly followed by just a little too much chili. "Mmm." "You like it?" "Yeah. Maybe a little bit spicier than I'm used to, but good," Tracy said diplomatically. "The spaghetti'll probably help with that." "Yeah, probably," Tracy agreed. "OK, just give me another ten or fifteen minutes to boil the spaghetti and then we'll eat." Tracy nodded. "I'll just get started on the computer in the meantime." Tracy opened the suitcase and pulled out the laptop. After plugging the charger into the wall, she hooked the drone control unit and her phone up to it. I might as well get everything done in one go. "Kat? Can I borrow that ridiculously large USB-hub of yours?" "Of course." Kat left the kitchen for a moment to disconnect an almost comically large twenty-five-slot USB hub from her desktop computer and hand it to Tracy. "Does Diego know that you're up to your old tricks?" Tracy asked while she connected the hub to the laptop and began plugging all her extra thumb drives and external hard drives into it. "What Uncle Dieter doesn't know, won't hurt him." Kat leaned down and gave Tracy 'the look'. "Right?" "Mm-hmm." Tracy nodded. "Good girl." Kat kissed Tracy's forehead and returned to the boiling water to drop the spaghetti into it. Tracy found the thumb drive she had bought and made sure its write-protected switch was on so it wouldn't become infected with whatever might be on her computer and plugged it into the side of the laptop. Then she switched off the computer's wifi and turned it on. The computer started up just like it always did. Messages complaining that the wifi was off and offering to help her fix it popped up almost immediately, both of which Tracy ignored. She accessed the thumb drive and started the cleanup program. It did a brief scan and listed the connected devices. Tracy checked the list to make sure that all her drones were listed, along with the remote control unit itself, her phone and everything that was plugged into the USB hub. Then she set the program to do a complete scan and cleanup. A status window popped up, letting her know that it would take an estimated two and a half hours. "That's not too bad," Tracy muttered to herself. The estimate immediately jumped to eleven hours. "Yeah, that's more like it." Tracy got up and went to help Kat set the table. *** Half an hour later, Kat leaned back in her chair. "Mmm." she sighed and closed her eyes. "I think I may have outdone myself this time." "Yeah," Tracy agreed. "Best dinner I've had all week." Tracy grabbed the plates and carried them to the tiny sink in the corner while Kat moved the kitchen table up against the wall to free up some room. Then they both sat down on the worn-out sofa. Tracy was beginning to feel the effect of a long and stressful day. All she wanted to do was to snuggle up to Kat and relax, but there was something that couldn't be postponed. "Kat?" Tracy slid down until she lay with her head in Kat's lap, looking up at her. "Mm-hmm?" "I think we need to talk. About Cory." Kat sighed. "And not with story time. I mean really talk," Tracy continued. She felt that she should really be sitting up for this, but she just didn't have the energy. Also, lying like this might be the compromise between story time and an actual grown-up conversation that Kat needed. "You know I love you, right?" Kat slowly stroked Tracy's hair. "Yeah?" Tracy wasn't sure she liked where this could be headed. "And that I'd never want to mess up our..." Kat hesitated, looking for the right words. "...whatever this is." "I know," Tracy reassured her. "But ever since you ran into her, you've been going a little overboard." "OK, this... what we have, I mean, it's different from my clients." Tracy nodded, letting Kat do the talking, at least for now. "But when Cory showed up, I realised something." A small, sarcastic voice in the back of Tracy's mind couldn't help but point out how the otherwise hyper-confident Kat all of a sudden seemed very insecure and vulnerable. "I... I think I still love her," Kat blurted out. That felt like a kick in the stomach to Tracy, and it was obvious that Kat noticed. She pulled Tracy closer. "It doesn't mean I don't love you anymore," Kat reassured her. "It's different." "What do you mean?" "It's like... You know how when we're together it's all snuggling and comfort, right?" "And you miss the sex?" Tracy asked after a short pause. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fall into place in her brain. "Kind of, yeah. But it's not just that. You're both really special to me and I don't want to lose my best little girl." "Ooo-kay?" "I just really want to make sure you're OK with me and Cory." Kat paused and took a deep breath. "And I thought it'd be easier if you got to know her, maybe." "Are you asking me to approve your girlfriend?" "When you say it like that, I guess it's kinda weird." "A little, yeah. And now you want me to meet her?" Kat brushed Tracy's hair out of her eyes. "I guess I kinda am. I mean, Auntie Cory is important to mommy, just like mommy's little bunny is. And she really hopes you like her too." Tracy could tell that Kat wasn't really in mommy-mode, but she decided to play along to see where she was going. "When?" Tracy asked. Kat hesitated. "Kaaaat?" Kat looked uncomfortable and actually squirmed a little. "Tonight?" she finally said, in a very small voice. "Tonight?!?" Tracy struggled to sit up. "Are you nuts? Do you see what I'm wearing? I have to get out of this before she shows up or she'll think I'm a complete nutcase." Tracy began clawing at the edges of the duct tape Kat had used to make sure her diaper stayed in place. "No she won't," Kat said calmly and put a hand on top of Tracy's. "But I'm..." Tracy shook off Kat's hand and continued to fumble blindly at the tape. Kat grabbed Tracy's wrists and pulled her hands away. "No. She. Won't," Kat said firmly. Then her tone softened. "Trust me." She let go of Tracy's wrists and brushed a stray lock of hair out of Tracy's eyes. "Do you trust me?" she asked after a few seconds. Interesting. Not 'do you trust mommy?' The weirdly calm and analytical voice in the back of Tracy's mind pointed out Kat's choice of words and how she clearly wasn't in mommy-mode. She's not just playing. This is serious. "Yes?" Tracy said hesitantly. "You're going to be just fine." Then Kat grinned. "And if mommy's little bunny is still feeling a little shy, she can hide in her big blanket." Kat patted the fuzzy blanket that lay draped over the back of the sofa. It was big enough for the two of them to snuggle up together under when they watched movies. "Yeah, 'cause that's how a grown-ass woman behaves," Tracy remarked drily. "Oh shush. She's going to love you just like I do." Kat paused and smiled mischievously. "Well, maybe not exactly like I do." "But can I at least put on a thinner diaper?" "Are you wet?" Kat asked back. Tracy shook her head. "Then no. If you're that worried, you can put on the tent." 'The tent' was an almost comically oversized hoodie that Jessie had bought for them as a gag gift. It was big enough for both Tracy and Kat to fit inside at the same time, provided Tracy was behind Kat. Not that that was likely to happen. After all, Kat was the big spoon, not Tracy. "Maybe I will." "You'll only look like you're trying to hide something," Kat said in her most infuriatingly reasonable voice. "Well, I am trying to hide something," Tracy pointed out and sat up. You're only making it more likely that she'll figure it out," Kat warned. "I don't care." Tracy got up and headed for the bedroom to find the giant hoodie. A few minutes later she returned wearing a sweater so big it could easily be mistaken for a poncho if it wasn't for the sleeves. "You look ridiculous Häschen." "Thanks Mom. At least my diaper bulge isn't out in the open." "No, it certainly isn't. Now come here." Kat patted the seat next to her. Tracy sat back down and Kat pulled her closer. For a while they just sat like that. This is just perfect. Why would Kat want to change any of this? "She doesn't, stupid. She just wants something more. Something you can't give her. And can you really blame her? This isn't just about you, you know. Tracy sighed and closed her eyes as she rested her head against Kat's shoulder. "What is it?" Kat asked. She ran her finger through Tracy's hair. "Having second thoughts about Cory?" "No, not really. I mean, I understand why you want her in your life, but it still feels kind of weird. It's kind of like having your girlfriend asking you about having a threesome. Part of me is going 'Interesting,' complete with wiggling eyebrows and everything. But another part is worried she's being replaced." "Oh Häschen, she could never take your place. Mommy only has one little diaper-bunny." Kat kissed Tracy's forehead, giving her a serious case of what Tracy liked to call 'the fuzzies'; the warm and comfortable feeling that was like being wrapped in a big blanket and held closely and not having a care in the world. "So, how long until she's here?" Tracy finally said. "An hour or so, I guess." "Mm-hmm." Tracy nodded and closed her eyes. It had been a long and stressful day and it wasn't over yet. Tracy took a deep breath and tried to will herself to relax. There was one thing she could do that would make her feel really relaxed. No. I'm not going to meet Cory like that. It's embarrassing enough that Kat is making me wear this ginormous diaper. I'm not going to be wet as well. Tracy took another deep breath. Part of her just wanted the world to go away; to shrink until the only things that existed were Kat and her and the sofa, floating in a sea of nothingness. No sounds, except the sound of Kat's breathing. Tracy found that she was breathing in sync with Kat. In and out; slowly in, and then out again. It almost felt like Kat was growing bigger. The warmth radiating from her melting away Tracy's worries and... A knock on the door brought Tracy crashing back to reality. "I'll get it. It's probably Cory," Kat said and rose. "Did you have a nice nap?" "I fell asleep?" Tracy asked, her brain not quite firing on all cylinders yet. "I think you needed it. You were out like a light." "Oh shit!" Tracy's hands flew to her crotch, giving her diaper a squeeze through the multiple layers of clothes. She breathed a sigh of relief. Still dry. Kat crossed the room and looked over at Tracy, who nodded back. Then she opened the door. ***

We all know she's an attention whore, a hypocrite, and little more than a figure-head for a movement. I've always compared her to a goblin, personally 😋

People like her don’t really care about the environment they just want the attention

A fool and his money are soon parted. Hugs Freta

Yeah that's true. I guess they're in that sweet spot where they can still be a Baby if they want to and need their diapers and bottles or be a Big Boy and wear pullups and use sippy cups. They truly do have the best of both worlds don't they?!

So… got in a car wreck last Monday… that was fun, not my fault and everyone is fine, just a bummer that my car is totaled and I’m stiff. Spent the week on bed rest and had a lot of time to write between dealing with insurance, the lawyers, and doctors and got a touch carried away… accidentally wrote like 12k words for chapter 23. Then I thought I should break it up a little and wrote some more to make the first part of the chapter more so Elizabeth’s backstory, which backstory is my favorite thing, will hopefully explain her habits and why she descended so quickly. Trying to work on character development and character interaction for another story I want to write in the DD when I stumbled upon an old prompt that went unnoticed/untouched and got a lot of things firing in my head. Been reading a lot of @bbykimmy stories lately which I somehow missed in all of my years as a forum ghost and love how dark some of them get, I have some dark stories I wrote for a different site that isn’t abdl but I have a hard time staying dark with my characters(also makes me feel less bad about some of my smutty tendencies because some of her work is just🥵). Also just discovered the keeper/pet universe she created and that has me in all sorts of moods, didn’t think I was much for pet play but now I’m a little more than curious. Anyways really makes me want to get better at writing and flush out my character interactions. I’m going to proof the new chapter 23 here in a minute then get to work on 24/maybe 25 for Elizabeth too? Not sure if I’ll break up 24 a bit and make it two chapters, we’ll see how much more I end up adding as I proof, may warrant two chapters after all. Stay tuned for the next episode of drag… Little Misunderstanding.

That's a good point little ashy! I think my little age is more 3 years old now, like it was in the beginning when I first started to age regress, because like you said I can still run around in diapers and do baby things while having some of the perks of being a big boy. Oh, and I can also sleep in a crib like babies do too. Although I'm too little to use the potty and if I try to, I have lots of accidents that's why I'm barely 3 years old, not a big 3 year old like 3 and a half. That's potty training age and I'm no where near that big. I still a little 3 years old and I still prefer to drink out of a baby bottle. Chocolate milk from a baba, just like the little cubs drink. But if I'm feeling really little then I turn into 11 months and have to be bottle fed by Mommy and Daddy, or you! And or changed just like the little baby that I am on the baby changing mat.

Chapter Three Note: I’m gonna need major help on this one from Sophie, for obvious reasons. Ai tries to seem like she isn’t so much following Aya as she is simply walking behind her. She can’t give herself away now, not when she’s so close to escape. Her heart pounds in her chest so hard she’s worried everyone will know, but if anyone else can hear her blood rushing through her ears, they don’t react. (Just get sent home. Put this all behind you. Maybe I won’t even remember, it’ll just be like a nightmare, when you don’t even remember the details, and I’ll be free.) They get into an elevator, and Aya waits. After a moment of perplexed silence, she gestures to the badge scanner. “Eh–Bala,” she says, looking between Bala and the buttons, “I don’t have authorization to get down there, it has to be your badge.” “Right,” Ai replied, nodding and reaching out to swipe her badge. “Of course, I apologize. I’m just lost in thought.” Aya frowns a little deeper. “You’ve had a day, haven’t you?” Ai returns the gesture, slightly perturbed confusion. “What do you mean?” “You suddenly care about Ai, and now you’re apologizing. You’re not normally this sentimental.” Shrugging, Ai says, “Just thinking about why we’re doing this.” The elevator doors open, right into the deep, buried lab. Ai steps in, looking around–the walls in front are painted white, but the ones behind her, the ones she hadn’t seen in the security video, are bare drywall. They weren’t meant to be seen. “Get it set up,” she says. “Be fast.” “Alright,” Aya says, gesturing to the side, to a thin door. “Go ahead and get changed.” Ai frowns. “Changed?” Aya blinks a couple times, baffled. “We’re not sending you to another mind, are we? Ai has to be in the driver’s seat if we want her to go back.” “I misunderstood,” Ai says, before correcting herself, projecting more Bala-like condescension “Be more specific next time. I’ll be quick.” Entering the small room, she takes stock of the supplies–it’s got diapers and a changing table. It’s made for this purpose, after all. Of course, Ai has to be careful–she can’t take off her pee-soaked panties. She shucks out of her pants and lays down, but leaves her wet panties on, feeling ridiculous as she unfolds a diaper from the stack. Unfolding it, she feels ridiculous, but there’s no escaping what she has to do. Lifting her damp panties off the table, she slides the diaper beneath her hips, adjusting it a little to get it straight. She’s uncertain why she knows how to do this, or what experience in her previous life had taught her to self-change her diapers, but she can’t question that right now. Folding the diaper between her thighs, she pulls it snugly over her wet panties, squishing the sodden pad against her crotch as she presses the sticky tapes down. She almost puts the pants back on, but what would be the point? The diaper needs to be on display. “Ready?” She asks Aya as she steps back in. Aya nods, gesturing to the far controls. “Just needs your authorization and the dimensional code.” (My–fuck.) Ai hadn’t even considered that she’d need to do the work here, that she’d have to help with the set up. Walking to the display, she hesitates. A menu flashes at her, asking for dimensional coordinates. It wants four digits–if she guesses at random, she won’t have a prayer of getting it right. Frozen, staring, Ai tries to think back to Bala’s meticulous notes. Had she written the code down anywhere? Would Ai’s memory be reliable even if she had? She knows then she can’t get home, but she has to try. (Hell, anywhere has to be better than here. Even if my mind gets scattered to a new dimension, at least it’ll be free of this place.) Holding her breath, picking numbers at random, she enters a code, choosing an arbitrary number, a throwaway pick that has no meaning to her. 1508. “Should we restrain you?” Aya asks, as Ai lies down on the mat, ready to slide into the machine, ready to go…somewhere. “Just tell Ai that she’s going home,” Ai replies, heart pounding, fingers shaking with anxiety. “I know how she thinks. She’ll obey.” Aya nods. “Okay.” She’s waiting on Ai, waiting for “Bala” to wet herself. Ai closes her eyes, concentrates–she doesn’t need to pee, she already went just half an hour ago, but Aya doesn’t know that. (If it’s just a trickle, it won’t even be visible, right?) After a moment, she gasps and her eyes shoot open. It’s her best act, a performance to make it seem like she just arrived. Looking around, she blurts, “Where am I?” Aya smiles warmly. “Just lie down, Ai. You’re going home.” Ai doesn’t want to be too obvious. She pretends to think for a moment, to calm down, though she’s anything but calm. Hoping it won’t give her away, she watches Ai, searching for a spark of recognition as she places the part. “Oh–okay. Okay, I’m going home. That’s good.” Aya watches her back, and the two of them share a long searching look. Ai’s heart tightens in her chest, but Aya doesn’t make any accusations. Reaching out, she pats Ai on the shoulder. “Just lie down, and this will all be over soon.” Ai lies down. Aya pulls the lever. Ai slides into the machine, and white light flash in her eyes. … Ai didn’t know where she was, but at least she could remember. The machine, the jump, her promise to herself that anywhere would be better than nowhere, it all stuck with her. Turning, she took in her surroundings. She was in the middle of a living room, with a couch and a television. Behind her, there was a kitchen with a kitchen island. Everything had a modern aesthetic with the exception of the far wall, where a mural of a huge blue wave had been painted. The sound of water crashing against sand in a constant rhythm steadied her anxiety. This world, it seemed more like the one she knew. More realized, more comforting, more of a world and less of a place invented solely to torture her. Looking at her arms, she saw she was in a new body. Not her own. Her skin was tan, and the ground looked a little further away, like someone had panned the camera. And–to her chagrin–she’d once again appeared in a wet diaper. Are you fucking kidding me? Even now, she couldn’t escape the humiliation Bala had inflicted on her. She didn’t exactly want to snoop, but she wanted to catch herself up as quick as she could, so she began to explore. On the coffee table in front of the couch, she saw a laptop. She could see the icon of a web browser. Good, they have internet here. Perfect. Walking over to the desk, she sat. Ai wanted to go to Google, or whatever equivalent search engine they had in this world. She could look up the year, what country she was in, see if she could find information about support for… What will I pretend to be? A lost immigrant? An amnesiac? Whatever she might have done, she didn’t have an opportunity, because her attention was stolen by a word document open on the computer. “Academy J, by Mia Moore.” Though she had told herself not to snoop, she saw the first couple paragraphs in her peripheral vision, and after that, she couldn’t look away. I blew on my coffee, trying to cool it down to a temperature where I could chug it. I’d already pushed deadlines back more times than I was comfortable, I had to get this anthology finished, but the stories weren’t playing nice. Maybe I could talk to Blossom about it, but I wanted to surprise her. If the characters kept taking on lives of their own, though, refusing to go where I wanted them to, I didn’t know if I could get this done in time. I’d stopped at a cliffhanger, but I needed to get back to it. Get this story done, then finish the others. It’d already lost everything kinky, and I was unsure of where to take it from here, but it needed to get done, and I didn’t want the stress of deadlines to take the fun from the story. Walking in, I saw Blossom at my computer, reading– “Hey, I said I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you just wanted to have some diaper time while I wrote?” She spun, eyes widening. “Who the fuck are you?” "What? Blossom, what's wrong?" I wouldn't say I was the most perceptive person in the world, but Blossom had never spoken to me like that before. Even when she was terse, she was level headed, with a point to make. Had I done something wrong? Was it the story? "Weren't you going to change or something?" Tears were in her eyes, and she looked ready to scream, or like she might be having a panic attack. “You–this is–how do you know what’s in my head?” “Blossom–” “Don’t call me that!” My heart was racing, but it would come in second place to my brain. What had I done? How could I fix it? I hadn’t done anything to make her mad, had I? The only thing that changed was that Blossom was that she’d read the latest Academy Works. “Is…is it something in the story?” That set her off. “You–” Tears streamed down her face now, unbidden. “You know everything I think. You know everything I do, even though you can’t, even though it didn’t even happen in this universe–tell me how.” Not even my self-cynicism could keep up with Blossom. I groped around in my mind for anything I could have done wrong, hoping I'd find something, literally anything. It was so much better than the building confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stands up, gesturing furiously at the computer. “Here. This.” She points at the computer, reading aloud, reading each word as though it were a judicially ordered death sentence: >>>Ai blinks, but the panic doesn’t set in until several seconds pass. >>>(Where am I?) >>>Sometimes, in the past, she’d woken up in an unfamiliar place. It always disoriented her, struggling in a foreign environment “It’s the story I’ve been working on, for the anthology, but you know that.” I shook my head, trying my best to comprehend the insanity that had consumed everything I know. Distantly, I was aware that I probably sounded as unhinged as the situation felt. “It’s not a story, it’s my life.” “What? You’re not making sense.” Was this a joke? If it was, it was pretty messed up, even for Blossom. Had I stumbled into a scene or something? I was ready to grab onto literally any answer. “I got into that machine, and I was desperate to get anywhere else: away from that place, that–that Academy, I guess, and I got here and…what are you? The architect? Are you reading my mind and just writing down everything that happens?” “Blossom–” “My name isn’t Blossom. It’s Ai.” I stared at her, uncomprehending. It didn’t make sense. How could she be Ai? I’d known her all this time, and… I got a sinking feeling of fear, and of comprehension. The last thing I’d written, Ai had left her universe, come to another. It couldn’t be real, could it? Surely– “I just make it all up,” I explained, trying to convince myself as much as her. “Nothing I write is real. It’s just a story.” “You–the ‘story’ you wrote, you tortured me. You humiliated me. Why?” “Because it’s just a fantasy, just a story. Ai isn’t real!” “I’m standing right here.” “If…” I felt insane. Playing along with the delusion, or engaging with the idea that this might all be true, but I don’t know how else to move this conversation forward. “If you’re really Ai, prove it.” “How? You know everything I’ve ever thought.” “Take off the diaper.” She stares for a long moment, confused, then her eyes widen. “You want me to go away.” “I’ll bring you back, I just…I need Blossom to tell me if it’s all real.” “I don’t trust you. You hurt me.” “Okay, but…what else can we do?” Her eyes were red and tears streaked her face. The confusion and fury of the situation, trying to comprehend what was going on after…well, after she’d escaped from Academy J, probably, it’d all bled through her emotions. Finally, though, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Promise.” “I promise.” Of course I did, what else would I say? It seemed to be good enough for her. Keeping her gaze on mine, she reached down and popped the tapes off her diaper. … “Don’t worry, just breathe.” She looked at me, and I could see the point where Blossom left and Ai appeared. It transitioned subtly, but I knew Blossom’s face too well not to notice her expression shifting. Besides that, I’d left myself another clue. “So you believe me?” “I do.” I swallowed. Believing her meant too many things about my world, it brought out too many existential fears, but I couldn’t disregard evidence when it was staring me in the face. “What did this Blossom person say that convinced you?” Ai asked, interrupting my train of thought. “It’s not what she said, but…she had an idea,” I explained, turning around. “Since what I’d written apparently actually happened, sort of, in another universe…” Turning around, I pointed at my computer screen, emphasizing the new lines I’d written. >>>While Ai leaves, Aya gets an idea. Pressing a few buttons on the screen, she sends an additional bit of information through–she can change things, more than just copying minds. She changes the color of Ai’s eyes to pink, but only when she’s in control. Ai read the line, then turned, looking at herself in the window reflection. Her eyes were bright pink. “So what are you?” she asked, turning to look at me. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know. I’m just a writer, I make stories for the internet, but…if you’re here…” Existentialism rose in me again. If Ai was a fictional character, and she was here, did that mean all fictional characters were real? Or did it just mean that I’d been creating universes when I wrote alone? Or did it mean that I was just like her? A character? She frowns, an idea forming in her head. “If you can make things happen by writing, though…can we just ask the story to explain everything?” My eyes widened. Of course–of course. “You think so? I mean–sure, it worked once, but–” Turning to my laptop, I readied my fingers to type. “So…what do I say, anyways?” “Make Aya send a book, I guess. One that answers all of our questions.” Simple. And–if it worked, that’d mean I’d be able to do more. My excitement started to build, and I typed quickly, frantically. The prose was awful, it was contrived and as thoughtless as the most low-effort fanfictions, but I didn’t care about the quality. >>>Aya has another idea, and sends through a magical book that can answer any question, ensuring that Ai won’t be confused anymore. “That’s it.” I hit enter, and a moment later, the book appeared on my desk. Flipping to the first page– (Hold on. No. This is wrong. What the hell was I thinking? Let’s figure this out.) … Ai blinked awake. She’d become disturbingly used to the experience of finding herself in a new place, a new world, and she took in her surroundings with speed. It didn’t take long, because she had no surroundings. The world wasn’t. She’d appeared in a complete void. Behind her was the only thing of substance–another person. Average height, slim build, he wore a onesie with a full, drooping diaper beneath, but seemed to barely notice. His ears had the slightest tapering point to them. “Who are you?” Ai asked, because what else was there to ask? “That’s complicated,” he replied. “I’m…not sure how I want to handle this, honestly.” Ai was too smart not to make a deduction, an intuitive guess. “Are you another writer, like Mia?” He laughed. “Dammit, this is the problem–If you weren’t so damned clever, things might’ve gone differently, but I couldn’t make you any other way. I can’t write idiots.” She faced him, stunned. Here he was, talking about how he’d made her, with a tone no more complex than if he’d talked about making a bowl of cereal. “You created me?” “No.” A thin smile curled his lips. “You’re on loan. Mia, too, though I didn’t ask for permission there, I just borrowed her because I didn’t know what else to do. I did try to follow in your creators’ footsteps, in their style–with a couple exceptions, I had to get a little pedantic revenge out where I could–but…I don’t know. They can be mean, really mean, but I don’t know if they’re worse than me.” “If you’re…I don’t know what you are, but if you’re so powerful…can you send me home?” Her eyes were wide, pleading. He looked back with a cool, calm stare. “Your creators and I were questioned, once, together: ‘Do you ever feel bad about what you do to your characters?’. They both said yes, instantly, without question. Of course they did, of course they had empathy for the suffering they inflicted.” The statement hung in the air, and Ai couldn’t help but ask the obvious followup. “And you?” “I said no.” Ai swallowed and took a step back. In the void, that didn’t mean much, she had nowhere to go. “So why talk to me?” “It’s like I said, I don’t know what to do with you,” he replied with a shrug. “There’s no good outcome, not that I can see.” “Send me home then. At least give me that.” Her chest stuck out a bit, posturing confidence. She had the courage to stick up to anyone, at least right now. “You don’t have a home, Ai. I never wrote it.” He shook his head. “And if I made you a place, gave you a happy ending where you can put all this behind you, what story would that be? It’d be an anticlimax. Worse than a cliffhanger, it’d be…well, it’d be lame. I had an idea, that you could end up in charge with Aya’s help, that she would tie down Bala and make her wet herself after every diaper change…it was too complicated to get to that ending, and didn’t feel in character. None of it worked.” “I don’t care.” “I do.” He shook his head, frowning a little. “And I wrote you clever. I wrote you smart, and stubborn, and as real as I could, but that means I can’t hurt you how I want. You’re too good for that, you ruined it, and I couldn’t make you compliant without breaking your character.” A moment of silence passed. He studied her, thoughtful and curious. “Do you want to know why it doesn’t bother me, when I hurt you?” It was a hypothetical question. She answered regardless. “Yes.” “Because you’re not real. You’re a character, a puppet for me to play with. I make you dance, I make you cry, I make you beg, and then I, and my audience–your audience, really–we get to remember what happened to you. You’re just a vessel for surrogate experiences, for our fun.” She fell quiet for a long moment. “Like Bala.” He shrugged. “I thought it was clever at the time. It’s not the same as reality, of course–it has to be intense, so intense that it’d be torture in real life, or else it’s too mild. I’d never want to be tied and bound and have my mind destroyed, but I want to remember it. My audience wants to remember it too, and they want the ending to stick with them.” “So…” she started, thinking about it for a long moment. “I’m fucked, then.” “No. I went too far, I got too weird with it, I tried too many new things. The story’s kind of off the rails, and…well, shit. When it was my turn with the playroom, I really trashed the place, didn’t I? Anyone who comes after me’s not going to be able to do anything with it.” He looks around. “I didn’t bother deciding what this space should look like, either. Too much work for no real benefit.” She stared at him, eyes watering a little. To have her reality stripped apart, to be told in no uncertain terms that her life was not her own, and that her fate would be decided by an uncaring being who enjoyed her pain, it broke her just a little. “I could stop the story here,” he admits. “Just give up. Walk away, and don’t come back.” “I’d just…be here?” she asked, looking around. “Alone” “No. You’d be…nothing.” “Nothing.” “You’ve been there before. I gave you a different name, different trials, but it was you even then. And, when I got lost, you went away. If I put you down now, if I stop here, you’ll go back there.” “I don’t remember that.” “You wouldn’t. It’s not forgetting, though, it’s nonexistence.” Her posture slumped. Defeated, and yet…she had a little fire left in her. “So, don’t end the story, and don’t hurt me.” “I don’t know how to do that.” He shook his head. “No story is better than a bad story. I can’t break character, I can’t undermine the world I made, and I can’t give you a happy ending.” “Then figure it out, asshole. You made me, or, well–someone else made me, but you say you’re the one making this happen, so you have to end it. If you try to give me a bad ending, if you keep hurting me, it’ll be like you said. I’ll ruin it. So you can’t break me, and you can’t change me without disappointing your ‘audience’–well, fuck your audience.” He gave her a warning look. “Careful. I like my audience. I love them, even. I want them to like this, because I care about them. I care about your creators, too, I…” Laughing, he added, “I wanted to impress them. That’s why I tried to do everything. But I started with the sex and the torture and the smut layed down thick, and then I got weird and experimental, and it’s been, what, ten thousand words now since anyone’s had a smutty thought?” “Please.” Her eyes were huge. “I just want to be able to…be.” “I know. If you didn’t want to stay an adult, to stay in charge of your mind, you wouldn’t make for a good protagonist, it’s just…I’ve got other people I need to worry about, and I’ve gone and made you so sympathetic that I can’t even hurt you properly.” She took a deep breath. Her resolve didn’t break, and he wished he could have the tenacity he’d given her. “Okay. Tell it to me. All of it. Everything you wanted to do. Maybe I’ll think of something you hadn’t.” He laughed at her. “That’s not how this works. You can only be smarter than me by being faster, by coming up with clever ideas quickly, you can’t think of things I don’t know.” “Do it anyway. Prove yourself right.” Though he didn’t know exactly what this would result in, he followed through with the idea anyway, just to fill another half page. “Well…fine. I never figured exactly how to line up with the world of the Academy, but the short version is, Bala wants to be free, to be cared for, to be…a baby, sort of. She doesn’t want autonomy, but she has to have it, because–” He shrugged. “Because it’s a bad story if she can just make the kind of universe she wants to live in. There needs to be conflict, get it?” “Okay. So…you make her what she wants.” “How so? I didn’t set it up at all, there’s no foreshadowing, nothing.” “I don’t know, that’s your job.” “And your job is to be the victim. To have a bit of hope, to have a chance at escape, but to ultimately be the surrogate for our fantasies. Bala can steal your mind, she can make you the victim, because it’s hot when you can’t say ‘no’.” “You know, this is going to look pretty fucking pretentious if you don’t have a good ending, not after all this.” “Unless I just don’t publish you anywhere.” “I don’t think you’re going to keep this buried.” “You’re right.” She shrugged. “Okay. So if you need it to be hot, why not just…make it work differently?” “Change the rules in the middle of the story? That’s not up to my standards.” “Don’t change the rules. Write a better story.” He knew where she was going with this–of course he did–but he still frowned. “I’ve never been criticized by my own character before.” “Can you do that, though?” she asked, eyes sparkling with hope. “Try again? Give me an ending where I’m happy?” “Huh,” he said, tilting his head a bit. “You know, I…I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Hope dashed, her jaw drops open. “Why?” “Frankly? I’m busy. I’ve got more projects on my plate, and this one is already overdue. I can’t just start over from scratch.” “You’re fucking kidding me.” “It’s okay. I’m not going to leave you like this. I’m not the only one borrowing characters out here, and, well…maybe someone can do a better job than me.” “So you’re just going to pass the buck?” “Yup. Don’t worry, it’s…” his face sours slightly. “Okay, maybe you should be worried, a little, but you won’t remember any of this. Mia’s going to forget, too. I’ll just have to be sloppy, there, to write in a retcon, because otherwise your creators will have a fuck of a time trying to write after this.” “Promise me there’s hope,” Ai looked him in the eye, pleading. “I promise. I don’t know what she’s planning, but I know she does happy endings sometimes.” Ai nods. “Promise me one more thing. Don’t forget me.” “If I did my job right, nobody will.” ... Author notes: I'm so thankful to "Mia Moore" for letting me write in her universe! It's an incredible honor to be invited to work on this project, and I hope that I did justice the setting and characters that she* created. If you want to check out my other stuff and support my writing, I've got a Ream! And a substar!

Academy II By Peculiar Changeling "At the end of the world, there will be neither clamor nor calamity, neither echo nor epoch. It will be mired in silence and sleep, in deliverance and death. At the end of the world, there will be both patience and purpose, both temperance and time. Only then will it be graced with eternity, and from eternity, a chance." -The Source, in valediction Chapter One Ai blinks, but the panic doesn’t set in until several seconds pass. (Where am I?) Sometimes, in the past, she’d woken up in an unfamiliar place. It always disoriented her, struggling in a foreign environment to take it all in at once. Having to piece together her arrival: how she’d gotten there, where she was, all while her body was still sleep-lagged and not fully awake. This isn’t like waking up. She had blinked once and found herself in a new place, fully aware, and the assault on her senses came from all directions. She takes it in, but it’s as though her senses are coming on one at a time, discovering pieces of her surroundings before she can understand the whole. Her arms are crossed over her chest–no, they’re bound over her chest, held down in a tight self-hug, like she’d put on a baggy jacket and had the sleeves tied together like a pretzel around her body. Though Ai had never worn a straightjacket before, she deduces what’s pinning her arms down before she can even see it. Warmth spreads over her crotch, and again it takes her a couple tries to guess why. (Did I spill something? No. Blood? Also no. It’s like–ah, I’m peeing.) That too feels wrong–the warmth doesn’t spread down her thighs, nothing past her crotch, but she can feel more moisture spreading out. Something is between her legs–an acute bulk that rustles when she shifts her weight. This time, she needs to look, but her attention is quickly taken up by distracting revelations. Mostly, the hands pressed against her body. One hand with fingers laced through a strap over her chest, holding it tightly like a leash, one pressed into the front of her… (I’m not wearing pants, and those aren’t panties, that’s a…) “Diaper?” she says aloud, and the person attached to the hands laughs, a gentle teasing tone, her form still coming into focus. “Good girl, you’re using your diaper, that’s correct,” she replies. “Just like you were told.” An audience watches her, paying particular attention to her diaper, to the way she reacts to her humiliations, but she’s blissfully unaware of their presence. For now, it’s just her and the strange woman. She pulls away, slack-jawed, eyes darting between her diaper and the woman standing in front of her. Editing Note: Mia gave me a description of Aya, I need to find it so I can put it here. “What–no, I didn’t–” “Shh,” the woman says, a smirk spreading across her face. “If you want me to believe you don’t need your diapers, you’ll have to prove it. There’s a toilet just through that door–even though you couldn’t hold it completely, but if you can keep from making a big, stinky, mess in your diaper, I might let you come out and play with the big kids.” Ai doesn’t understand, but her mind is still coming into her body, still taking things in. The room looks…not clinical. A clinic would have a degree of comfort, it would be designed to help patients feel a little better about their situation. The room she’s in looks scientific, but only in a way that makes her feel like a specimen pressed into a glass slide. It’s hastily assembled, as though it were an afterthought, not worth giving any real focus. Why care about the set dressing? Her audience won’t remember what the room looks like; it’ll only remember the way she looks when she’s forced to fill her diaper. Before she can ask another question, before she can make her brain obey, the woman pushes a rubber ball between her teeth. She moves so swiftly and smoothly that by the time Ai recognizes the gag, it’s already locked into place. It doesn’t silence her, but it garbles her words into mere noise, so that when she tries to object, it comes out as, “Buhh-mughga!” The woman smiles again, warmly, like she’s watching a child present a crayon drawing and not facing a fully grown woman babbling into a gag. With straps around and above Ai’s head, she can’t spit it out, and her hands are trapped in the straightjacket, so she can’t reach up and pull it free. Ai’s senses finally come to be in her body fully, finally give her a full picture, and the result is claustrophobic. She jerks and twists, but her arms are held fast, with only a hint of wiggle room. “The suppositories won’t leave you much time,” the woman says. “If you want to use the potty, you’d best get started.” With her role in the performance done, the woman leaves–the audience doesn’t care about her any more, not unless she stays to taunt and belittle. That isn’t her role, it’s not why she’s here, so she won’t play that part. The room is empty, save for the two doors: one leading to the promised toilet, the other to the exit the woman had taken. With her gone, Ai is left alone. Ai fights off the urge to keep struggling in the jacket. It wouldn’t get her anywhere; she needs to make progress. Taking deep breaths through her gag, she centers herself. It’s difficult to walk around with her arms bound. She wobbles unsteadily, and the diaper makes the waddle more acute than it’d otherwise be. Reaching the bathroom door, she leans her back against the perpendicular wall for support. The bathroom door has a metal latch and a combination lock holding it shut. Next to the lock, a sticky note holds a simple message. Combination is 1508 - A big girl should have no trouble opening it - Be sure to hurry. If you don’t make it to the potty, you’ve got another spanking in your future! - ❤️ Aya Ai’s eyes widen and her brow furrows as she reads the note. It carries an implicit message. If she enters the combination, she can use the toilet, avoid…a spanking, and… (She can’t be serious, can she?) But, because she’s already in a straightjacket, already in a soggy diaper, she intuits another truth. (She’s serious.) Ai makes up her mind. She needs to enter the combination. She takes a moment to inspect the combination lock. It has a spring-loaded cover over the combination, so that it’s difficult to reach. She tries pushing at the cover with her nose, but it won’t move, and the attempt forces her to squat awkwardly. She does half a chicken dance, her padded butt wobbling in the air as she tries to keep upright. Besides, even if she could get the cover to the side, there would be no way to turn the numbers without hands. Maybe her teeth, but they're gagged, and to remove the gag, well… Ai needs her hands. She steps back, breathing deeply, and feels a tentative, anxiety-inducing gurgle in her belly. The woman– (Aya. Her name is Aya.) Shaking her head, Ai tries to focus. She knows precious little, and can't afford to discard what few details she’s gleaned. Aya had mentioned suppositories. Ai doesn't know how long it will take the medicine to work, but judging by the early cramps, she can’t imagine it will be long. Shutting her eyes, Ai takes a few deep breaths. There aren’t any tools in the room she can use. Nothing sharp or hard or useful for leverage. It’s all up to her. She tries wriggling again, but this time, it’s not desperate flailing. There’s a little room for her arms to shimmy from side to side, and when she does, she can feel the back strap move. Squirming with new hope, Ai moves within the jacket. With the little amount of play she has, it seems like it should be possible to wriggle free, to– “Mmmph!” She squeaks as she feels a sudden, intrusive buzz start up in the front of her sodden diaper. Bending over, she looks down and sees what she’d missed before. Attached by two straps on the straightjacket, held snugly in place over her diaper is a flat, plastic vibrator. Something had triggered it to start–her audience doesn’t want her to have too easy a time of it, and the distraction serves to entertain. Ai bites down on her gag and her cheeks flush. There’s only so much she can focus on at once. The claustrophobia, the restriction, and now the vibrator buzzing away, flooding her body with hormones and unwanted pleasure, it forces her down to the ground, sinking onto her butt. (Deep breaths. Just persist, I can do this.) The way the vibrator works, pulsing into a layer of sodden padding, just makes it worse: the pleasure is coming through her diaper, forcing her to acknowledge it, to think about the piss-soaked diaper in the context of intense, mind-numbing desire. After a minute or so, the vibration stops, and the concern that it might kick back into high gear is just more motivation for Ai to keep trying. The gurgle in her belly–an insistent reminder of the suppositories doing their work–only pushes her further. (Think. The strap. It has play.) Sitting against the wall, she tries lifting her legs and moving her arms, shimmying side to side to get it out from beneath her, but there isn’t that much play. The strap holding her sleeves together won’t go past her waist. She tries the other way. Pushing against the wall for support, she stands, wobbles, and then pulls up. Bingo. It takes a lot of wriggling and effort, but the sleeves move over her head. Ai’s arms aren’t free, but they have mobility. The sleeves might still cover her hands, and the damned strap holds her arms together, bound so that she’s always making an O shape, but it’s progress; an enormous step in the right direction and a sign that she can succeed. Before she can celebrate this victory, though… Bzzz. Her face flushes again, and she is once again distracted from escaping her situation. Ai can’t tell if the vibrator is turned higher, or if she’s become more susceptible to it by her first session of edging. Her Ego might shout and complain, but her Id’s reaction to the sensation is undeniable. The vibrator sends pulses through her sodden diaper and into her sex. Intense pleasure signals carry up her back and into her thoughts, killing her ability to focus on anything, even breathing, air escaping her mouth as little desperate moans. (You’re better than how you feel.) She bites down on the gag until it hurts her jaw, forcing deep breaths through her nose. (Don’t let this beat you.) Another minute passes before the vibrator dies, and in its wake Ai needs a few moments to recover, panting into her gag. The pressure in her bowels is more intense than ever, but she’s still able to hold it. She still has time. Getting back to her feet, Ai already notices an improvement. With her arms able to move freely, she can balance, all the wobbliness gone. She doesn’t need to use the wall for support any longer. Waddling back to the padlock, she tries again, pressing the sleeves of the straightjacket into the combination cover. No dice. She can sort of get the cover to slide to the side, but when she does, there’s not enough play to get the small dial beneath to spin how she wants it. Her attention returns to the jacket. She can open and close her hands beneath the heavy canvas. It doesn’t give her much control, but it gives just enough to grab things. Fumbling at her back, moving her arms together so she can reach as far as possible, she feels at the straps holding the jacket over her body. Ai isn’t certain, but by wriggling and moving her back, she puts together a rough estimation of how it had been assembled. There are three buckled straps that comprise the linchpin of the vest. If she can get those loose, there’ll be enough play that she’d be able to get the crotch strap free. And, once that’s free, the jacket will just slide right off. Simple. Not easy, but simple. Ai refuses to contemplate the alternative to success: the pressure in her bowels releasing, and the subsequent threats that’d been made. She tells herself that the pressure she feels is just a ticking clock, and she lacks the time to think about why this self-delusion isn’t true. Determined, she gets to work, pawing at her back. Going by sense of feel isn’t easy, especially when she has to work through layers of dense canvas, and her only way to manipulate things is to fumble through the jacket and try to squeeze whatever she can reach. Grumbling into her gag, she works at it all the same, spinning in place to try and get a better angle like a dog chasing her own tail, until… Cli-clack-clack-clack. The rattle of the metal buckle pulling free is pure relief, pure triumph. Just two to– “MMpHH!” Her unbidden squeak seems deafening in the utterly silent room, legs buckling beneath her as she the vibrator kicks into high gear. This time, Ai knows it’s turned up higher just from the pitch of the vibration, and she also can’t deny that her body is more susceptible than ever. The mixed sensation, frustration, and simple burning feelings that the buzzing brings up from deep inside Ai makes her forget herself, and she rides the pleasure with purpose. It isn’t just that there’s a vibrator pressed into her diaper, there’s something… more, but she can’t identify what. She wants it. Just before she can ride into a reluctantly anticipated climax, the vibration stops. Ai cries out–no longer grateful to have the vibration end, but furious that she was denied her pleasure. She could have at least had a little bliss before returning to her task, but they– She sits up sharply, the truth finally dawning. The timing is too perfect for the vibrator’s control to be automatic, on a timer, anything. An intelligent observer is turning it off and on at particular times. But… though she walks a circle of the room to look for one, she can’t see a camera, a viewport, or anywhere to hide and watch. The door doesn’t even have a gap beneath it or a keyhole to peer through. Her audience is watching another way, and she has no means to understand how. It can’t just be visual, either–they know precisely how Ai feels, they know her intimately, able to turn off the vibrator to deny her the climax that she’s been conditioned to want. Ai tries not to think about what else they could condition her to want. For now, she just wants three things–the toilet behind the door, the climax she’d been denied, and an explanation for her circumstances. She can’t have the third and isn’t in control of the second, so she forces herself to focus on the first. Accepting that she’ll have to deal with a malicious audience, Ai turns her attention to the second buckle. It’s harder in some ways, having to reach further down her back, but with the first buckle free she has a lot more range of motion. With only a minute of squirming, it comes free, and this time, knowing she’s got watchers, she braces herself. It comes, right on queue, and she leans back against the wall, biting down on the gag and riding it out. She doesn’t hide that she’s enjoying it, and she admits to herself that the soggy diaper carrying the vibration into her might actually make things better. This time, Ai speeds things along. One orgasm could clear the distraction from her mind, it could let her think more clearly, it could end the uncomfortable correlation that’s building in her unconscious between diapers and an almost incomparable sexual craving. She tries to indulge in the pleasure, to rush to the peak. And again, it stops before she can climax. No pleasure to be had, just denial. (I was…just trying to get Aya to stop, because I knew she wouldn’t let me finish.) Ai doesn’t believe herself. Only one buckle to go. She knows she’s going to make it. Her desperation is intense, but even if the vibrator sessions take minutes of her time away, she can last. It’s so close. Ai just has to get the last buckle, which, now that she has a high range of motion with most of the jacket loose, isn’t difficult at all. Bracing herself, anticipating the vibrator’s surging power, she waits a couple seconds. She’s left disappointed when it refuses to activate. Frowning, she continues her escape. With all the other buckles free, she slides the straightjacket off her body. Though she feels a need to use the toilet, it’s not unstoppable. For reasons she can’t quite explain, she goes for the combination first, before stripping out of the diaper. 1508. (Is that 15-0-8? Or 1-50-8?... ‘1-5-08? Eh… oh, okay. There’s no ‘0’ on the combination, and no ‘08’. So it’s gotta be 1-50-8.) Free fingers working deftly, she enters the combination. And, as triumph is within her grasp, she feels the vibrator pulse to life. The door swings open, but at that moment, her knees buckle. She falls to the ground, staring into the bathroom she’d unlocked, but she’s left stupefied by pleasure and cannot enter it. The vibrations are like nothing she’s ever felt before. Greater, more dominating than any sex in her memory, any pleasure she’s ever felt. The vibrator paralyzes her completely, rising in waves that give her just enough time to try and break free before it surges once more, throttling her mind, never quite reaching an intensity to let her climax, nor dropping enough to allow her escape. Her body craves the sensations, the feeling of a saturated diaper throbbing against her sex, and Ai cannot pretend that she only wants the edging to end faster. She can only sit on the ground, staring forward at the toilet only a few feet away, hopelessly frozen in agonizing bliss as the pressure in her builds, builds, builds, and with her thoughts and body so far from her own control, there’s no holding back. The edging may have lasted a minute, or ten, but it keeps her down until the suppositories do their work, and her diaper suddenly swells. The seat balloons out as a sudden warmth sludges into the padding. It’s faster than she expected, more intense: One moment, her diaper was only wet, but now it bulges and sags, muck packing in every corner available. Even then, as the smell hits her and she knows she’s lost this game, she still wants it. (No…) She still needs it. Her promised climax, the one bright spot of hope amidst the landscape of her shattered dignity. Biting down on the gag, moaning in wordless prayer to whatever cruel god controls her vibrator, Ai is given only disappointment. The vibrator dies, and she is left utterly defeated as the door behind her unlocks. Frustration pours over her. She’d lost. She’d lost, she’d humiliated herself for her audience’s pleasure, she’d bottomed out her diaper while only moments away from victory, she’d lost. And, even then, helpless to change the situation, the lingering desire still burns, craving the orgasm she’d earned. In the mental drop that follows, panting heavily and catching her breath, her thoughts clear slightly. A question in her thoughts that she hadn’t been able to consider, not until her thoughts were in her control again. (…the vibrator had been attached to the straightjacket, hadn’t it? So how–) The door behind her swings open. Aya steps in, making a show of sniffing the air, of ‘realizing’ that Ai has loaded her diaper like a helpless infant. “That’s what I thought,” Aya declares. “Well then–I think it’s time for your spanking.” It’s exactly what her audience had wanted, and the fate Ai had fought desperately to avoid. But then, her wants don’t matter. She exists to be observed, not to be happy, and right now, her observers see Aya pull her down, push her body so that her ruined diaper points into the air, and begin her assault. Aya’s slaps are merciless and devastating, and Ai is at a loss for which contacts are the worst. The swats to her thighs sting like a swarm of bees; each leaving angry red marks on her tender, bare skin, and each eliciting a helpless, pained squeak into her gag. Pain builds with each impact, growing, multiplying on itself, burning overlaid on a deep ache, accented by acute spikes of acid pain. The blows to her diaper did little to hurt her body, but sent disquieting shockwaves through her soul. Though the pain is muffled by a layer of saturated, abused padding, the way that each spank presses the results of her accident into her reminds Ai that she failed and humiliated herself, and that she’d do it all again if it would get her ten seconds with the vibrator to reach the bliss she still craved. It makes her squirm in embarrassment and shame, worrying if she had always been this depraved, or if she’d just been broken that easily. But, while pain and humiliation eat at her in their own ways, neither are the worst. What drives her insane are the occasional pauses, the rests where Aya retreats her hand and gently caresses the skin of Ai’s back and her delicate hair, soothing her, whispering sweet sounds without meaning, reassuring Ai in whispers that she’s doing so well to take her spanking like a good girl. Ai wants to scream. (How dare you try and comfort me when you’re the one inflicting the pain?) But another thought plays in her mind. (If you’re not going to stop, can you hold me closer?) In the haze, the mindfuck soup that’s slowly blending her consciousness into putty, Ai starts to slip, but she refuses to lose herself. She catches onto a thread–the one facet of her identity that remains. Her id slips away, disassociating from her quickly sublimating ego. She puts together her coherent thoughts, slim as they are, and chief among them is confusion. (It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got. How did I get here?) At first, she thinks about the room–how did she get put in the straightjacket? Or in this facility, for that matter? But then, a more specific form of the question presents itself. (How did I get here? Over Aya’s lap?) Ai remembers her defeat: Subdued by the vibrator, dropped to her knees, forced to pack her diaper full mere feet from the toilet. She remembers Aya coming in, taunting her, the subtle ways that the woman made Ai feel as small and helpless as possible. Then…Ai was over Aya’s lap, and the spanking began, as though the world had shifted around them. Aya has a chair now. (There definitely hadn’t been a chair in here before!) The thoughts have no clear answer, and worrying over them, trying to parse the impossible situation, forces her mind back into her body. The full physical sensations assert themselves again: every smell, every feel, every ache. Flailing, struggling, none of it seems to help. She’s going to be on Aya’s lap until the spanking is over, and there’s nothing she can do to resist that fate, but she no longer has the capacity to realize this. The mental break draws her deeper into her role: she fights, she kicks and yelps and whimpers, not because she thinks it will get her away, but because if she shows her defeat and wears her humiliation like armor, maybe Aya will give a little sympathy. Finally, the last few blows on her thighs rain down–hard enough that she cries out with more volume than ever–and it ends. The pain is over. All that’s left is a smug, taunting little bit of pressure; Aya rests her hand on the seat of Ai’s full diaper and presses down. It’s a degrading reminder that, for everything she’s been through, Ai still needed her pleasure. “Shh, shh,” Aya says, though Ai is perfectly quiet save for shallow breaths. “You took your spanking like a good girl–I think that deserves a reward.” (A reward?) Ai’s eyes snap open, heart suddenly pounding. (Will…will she give me the wand?) Of course not. Even her gifts can only ever push her deeper into humiliation. Aya pulls Ai up, first seating the young woman on her lap, then turning her so that they face one another. Ai wriggles, but Aya’s firm grip pulls Ai down, so that her legs straddle one of Aya’s thighs. “You did good, just enjoy yourself,” Aya coos, and before Ai can even try to ask a question through her gag, the taller, stronger woman begins to bounce her knee up and down, a rhythmic motion against the ground. Each bounce raises Ai up just for a heartbeat, momentum carrying her into the air, and then down again to smash her weight into the mucky, full contents of her diaper. She’d packed it full–the suppository had left her unable to do anything else–and the heavy, squelching contents slosh against her skin with every landing, wafting the stink upward into a haze she can’t help but inhale. It’s as bad as the spanking–worse, because at least then the humiliation was broken up with pain. Now it’s one note playing over and over ad nauseam until Ai can’t think about anything except the state of her diaper, how she had failed, how she had been helpless from the start, how she never could have done anything except lose control, fall to her knees, and prove her infantile helplessness for all to see. It had been inevitable, and now Aya makes sure that Ai knows it. But Aya isn’t all cruel. Once the lesson has sunk in, once Ai’s headspace is fully sunk into the seat of her diaper as firmly as her last accident, Ai realizes–this is the prize she wanted all along. She doesn’t need the vibrator, she just needs her diaper, and the slick ecstasy rhythm of Aya’s constant bouncing. It doesn’t take her long. The bouncing lacks the white-hot power of the vibrator, the ability to all but rip an orgasm out of her body, but all of Ai’s intense edging has broken down her mind, left her horny and desperate in a way that only one pleasure could solve: the pleasure she gets from her diapers. She wants this–all of it. Shuddering, Ai’s thoughts laser-focused on her helpless lack of control, relying on Aya’s firm arms to guide her as she bounces up and down. Each new rise and fall now rocks her with pleasure so intense it almost hurts, and only when she’s gasping and whimpering, thoughts numbed by ecstasy, do the bounces slow to a stop. She falls forward into Aya’s waiting arms, sweaty and delirious. “There’s my good girl,” Aya says, patting her back gently. “Now, let’s get you changed, okay? The experiment is over for the day.” (The…huh?) Aya doesn’t explain further, and with her gag in, Ai can’t ask. She wants to, but her head is awash with a soup of endorphins and it’s difficult to convey any requests. ‘Take off my gag so I can speak immediately’ doesn’t occur to her. She’ll ask when she can, if she can, if Aya will allow it and if her audience doesn’t put a stop to anything so reasonable as ‘telling Ai what’s going on.’ Aya guides her to the floor, gently laying Ai on her back, so that her diaper is easily accessible. Reaching for the nearest tape, Aya pulls it free. … Ai blinks. She’s in the room–or, maybe a different room, it’s so bland that she can’t quite tell. Sharp emotional whiplash courses through her–all the hormones and post-coital bliss has vanished. She feels almost sick at the change, like instantly switching from drunk to sober, though there’s no expected headache or physical discomfort to accompany the stark mental shift. Aya is gone. Ai’s diaper is clean–no, that’s not right. Though it’s reasonably dry, and there’s no longer a heavy load weighing down the seat, she can feel a trickle of dampness dribbling into the crotch. She’s mostly clean, but a little wet. Otherwise, she’s naked. A gag is locked in her mouth again–nobody wants to hear what she has to say–but her hands are free. More importantly, her mind is free as well. Something seems to have cleared it–the soup of endorphins that had rendered her thoughts into pulp has lifted. She remembers everything clearly, but with the distance of the morning after, the feeling of a cold dawn light that showed how far she’d fallen just moments before. In the corner, she sees a steel cage, like a kennel that might hold a large dog, but sturdier. Against the far wall is a TV, an old tube style that probably weighs a billion pounds and has its own built-in VHS player. The doors are where Ai remembers, but the handles have been replaced. Instead of padlocks or tumblers, they have pin pad locks. A new puzzle. A clock on the wall counts down–it shows five hours and fifty nine minutes, with the seconds slipping lower and lower. Thirty three. Thirty two. Finally, Ai turns to see a stack of worksheets on the floor, with crayons in a cardboard box next to them. She has a good sense of what she’s supposed to do, but she isn’t interested in playing. She knows that playing will lead to more demolition of her mind, more brainfuck pain and pleasure that will leave her identity in further fragments. Reaching down, she rips off the diaper. … Ai blinks and looks around. She is in the same room, but she’s standing somewhere else. Her brow furrows. Did she…teleport? Did the room move around her? Or did she lose time? The clock shows that only a minute has passed–Five fifty eight and some seconds, not five fifty nine. Looking down, she notes the constant–she’s got her diaper on again, still just ever so slightly damp, though the tapes are different–placed a bit higher, pulled a bit more snug. She wants to say, ‘Screw this’, but the gag stops her, so she just thinks it as intensely as she can and rips the garment free. … Ai blinks, steps back, and stomps her foot. She’s moved again, a few steps over. Pressing both her hands into her face, she groans, muffling her exasperation. Only thirty seconds have gone by. Her diaper… (Fuck this, I’m not wearing a fucking diaper.) She rips it free. … Ai- “AAGGGGHHHH!” She screams, frustration coming through without any need for defined words. Her diaper is still in place–though, looking closely, she sees that duct tape has been added, reinforcing the straining sticky tapes that’d lost their bite after being undone several times. It’s slightly cool, almost clammy, as though it’d been exposed to air for a while. Five full minutes had passed–apparently, some time had been needed to retrieve the tape. Petulantly, Ai refuses to play the game. Knowing what will happen, she rips the tape free and yanks at the diaper beneath. … Ai yelps as she comes to her senses. Things have changed. Her diaper is back–of course–but if it’s held in place with tape, she can’t see, because it’s beneath a ruffled pink onesie that zips up behind her back. Her hands are no longer the tool they’d been before, either–canvas mittens are pulled over them, so while she can bat things around and probably pick objects up in awkward fists, she couldn’t squeeze a zipper or get her fingers under her diaper’s tapes. More acute, more distressing, she feels a solid weight in her bottom–cold, solid metal from a particularly heavy butt plug. Twenty minutes have passed, and the countdown continues. Five hours thirty-four minutes, something-something seconds, she doesn’t care about the precise count. Though there’s nothing written in the room, no notes left for her, she gets the message. If she continues to throw a tantrum and refuses to play the game presented to her, it will only get worse. Right now, she has to deal with a distracting, intrusive plug and no more hands. If she disobeys again, she might find herself back in the straightjacket, or some other torture. Who knows what other obscenities her audience would want done to her? So, though she wants to continue to abstain from her captor’s game, she crouches in front of the TV. Looking at the black glass, at her reflection, she–– Note: Ai does not lose time here, and fully perceives things for a moment. What she sees, however, is withheld from her audience. –”What the fuck?” she yelps, stumbling back, landing on her butt–pushing the plug into her, reminding her of its constant presence. She’s shaken, but she has to keep pressing on. Crawling forward, she presses the power button on the TV, then rewinds the VHS player to the start. The nostalgic whir of reversing tape calms her down a bit, and by the time it resets, her heart has stopped pounding. When it plays, her pulse skyrockets again. A woman with vaguely Southeast Asian features stares into the camera, wavy dark hair rippling over her shoulders and a confident smirk plastered on her lips, her eyes seeming to follow Ai. Ai recognizes the face, but doesn’t understand how she’s seeing it here. “In case you’re too little to properly understand the rules,” the woman says, “I’ve decided to give you this little explainer. If you can complete the worksheets, each one will give you a letter–you do know your letters, don’t you, sweetie?” The woman paused for a moment, to let her leering condescension hit with full impact. Ai just watches wide-eyed, confusion and fear clouding her thoughts. “Well–if you get all the letters, it’ll tell you the combination to the door. Get the door open before your time is up, and you can have a grown up dinner, a diaper change, and you can sleep in a grown up bed tonight. But, if you don’t, you’ll be fed through a bottle and you’ll be sleeping in the kennel behind you. And since I expect the special medicine in the bottle will make your tummy very upset, you’ll be wishing for a diaper change all night, but you won’t get one. You’ll be trapped.” Sneering, the woman on the video reaches forward towards something, and then the video ends. Ai just looks at the black screen for a moment, at her reflection, until the black void of video turns to a blue ‘no signal’ screen. She looks at the worksheets for a moment, but her gaze can’t focus, and she starts to panic. It doesn’t make sense. She saw a detail she wasn’t supposed to see, and the discontinuity has broken her ability to play along. Ai stands, and though her hands are bound by mitts and her onesie keeps her diaper in place, it’s not enough. She can still refuse to play–getting her hands under the hem of the onesie, she yanks at it, tearing the fabric free. Maybe next time they’ll seal her in kevlar or tie her hands behind her back, she doesn’t care, she exposes her diaper–it’s a new diaper, apparently, there’s no tape and the patterns are different–and rips it away.

For me being an adult baby, I poop in my diapers no matter where I am. I don't use the potty to poop because adult potties are only for grown-ups, adults, and big kids who have passed potty training. Since I am an adult baby, I potty in my diapers no matter where I am.

Hey everyone! Sorry about the later posting than I was expecting originally. I was all set to edit this chapter last night, but then an emergency came up and I had to push it after my busy day today. Should be able to pop several more of these chapters out this week, so stay tuned. As promised, located next are the two ideas for the story after this one. I usually will give three options, but these were too close to call last time, so just let me know which of them you all would prefer for what I write next. If they are nearly tied again though, I will take the runner-up and add it to my next poll with already some backing behind it. Bethany Set as a semi-sequel to The Opening, follow former drug runner, Bethany, as she strives to find herself a better life that has been promised in the newly discovered dimension, tentatively called, ‘The Amazon Dimension,’ though some have begun calling it another name due to the ever-increasing rumors of something awaiting all portal Littles on the other side. Join Bethany as she looks to turn her life around there and maybe even find a redemption of sorts and something else in the most unexpected of ways. Watch out though, in this new world, new and even greater dangers than the ones she left lurk around every corner. Tell Me More Sequel With this shorter story, continue with Dr. Trisha Mengell from Tell Me More as she dives further into the lives of her patients following the FOY incident over a year ago now. All seems as well as can be with her various Little patients until she notices a frightening pattern begins to develop over time during each session. While it could be nothing and just a fluke in the city or her patient’s mind’s turning softer and more imaginative, follow the good doctor as she explores the truth behind what she might suspect within the very system that she herself is a part of. Moving forward, I will be trying to post as much as I can, barring any emergencies that happen to crop up. My goal is to try and finish this story before the end of the month and try to go quickly with my next one as well so that I don’t have another break coming up next month right in the middle of my story. It’s not the worst, but it’s a big pause that I would like to avoid if all possible. Fingers crossed, but I will let you all know here if anything changes with this plan. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter! Chapter 2: Being a Little Can Be So Complicated Sometimes William Shakespeare once wrote that ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’ Well, I highly doubt that old Billy ever came to this dimension or spent time in a Little’s foster home facility before, but I have to imagine that he experienced at least the next worst thing. See, Nancy and I talked for a long while, but being a shivering Little who’s been bruised and had their clothing ripped into who is also seated between two major players in dealing with Littles, I had no chance of escape it turned out. So, the police had taken me in, but Nancy had essentially assigned herself to me to be my proverbial guardian angel. I don’t even think they believe in that type of stuff here, but she made sure that I was treated well and at least sent to a nice foster home until further plans could be made for me. I wanted to be grateful that I hadn’t ended up worse, like I had heard happened to so many others, but my times at the foster home were trying to say the least. Despite the fact that it was determined and pushed by Nancy that I would be treated ‘older’ amongst the other Littles, I later realized that age is pretty much all relative here when it came to the treatment of my kind in this society. My current multi-colored and star-adorned white training panties, green tights, black Velcro shoes, and cotton dress with the words ‘super awesome’ did little to assuage me that I was really the ‘big girl’ others claimed I was. I suppose, now looking around the room once again to ground myself in my new reality, that things could always be worse. After all, I was wearing leg coverings of some kind, I could walk around, and above all, I wasn’t wearing diapers. Training panties were no picnic, but I knew the same qualities I took pride in that I still had, could not be said for some of my fellow foster Littles. So, since I had gotten here late that night and was given my intro bag for ‘big girls,’ I had been assigned to the older of the three levels assigned to us Littles. Currently, I was the only one up here in the oldest of the rooms, but I was assured by Mrs. Tatum, the supervisor foster mom here, that it wouldn’t stay that way forever. That was two weeks ago, and I quickly realized that being untouched or at least considered a ‘big girl’ around here was pretty rare. Most who came were assigned to one of the lower rooms. It was lonely existence most days, but fortunately, I just busied myself in reading. Mrs. Tatum had a wonderful library, and though most seemed to cater toward the belittlement of Littles in some form or fashion, they still provided me with a way of passing the time. I had already breezed through about six of them, and it would have been more if not for a certain task I was asked to provide, even right now by a few of the other Littles here. See, Mrs. Tatum was only one woman. While her daughter helped during some afternoons, nights, and at least part of the weekend, the other times she had to rely on government-provided volunteers. Seeing I was a teacher and avid reader though, I was gingerly asked if I could provide story time to the other Littles here to give the Bigs at least some free time. Feeling an underlying tension and authority just swell around the kindly but intimidating Big, I accepted my new role. “Miss Emily! Miss Emily!” Taylor, one of the mildly regressed Littles shouted as he pulled on the hem of my dress to get my attention as I had previously buried my head in a book. I gently flopped the book to my chest and peered over at the early 20-something Little now before me. His midsection bulged in a way that could only mean one thing and he was constantly sucking on his fingers when not yelling, laughing, or getting my attention, but he was still okay by me. “Yes, Taylor?” I asked, almost having to distance myself with the other Littles and treat them like the toddlers or babies they often acted like. “Wead to us?” he begged, his eyes bulging practically with tears. He had gotten good at trying to convince me to play with him and his friends, or like now, read to them. Very good. I rolled my eyes and groaned a little bit, having just stopped in the middle of the climax of my own story, but I knew the concept of waiting wasn’t big on most of the Littles here, so I sighed and set my book down. “Okay, but just one for now though, okay? I know it’s nearly naptime and Mrs. Tatum wants you all to get at least one nap in this afternoon.” “Awww!” he said in frustration, going as far as to even smack his foot on the ground. I then stood up and while we almost stood eye to eye, something about the loss of height for some Littles coming through the portal still and his mentality, I could feel him shrink under my watch. It was disheartening to see the former marketing major college student behave in such a way, but after one Big commented on how cute it was that I was playing with the babies one day, I felt the more separation between us, the better off I would be at least. “You know the rules, Taylor. I don’t make them, but just try and be good for me. Can you be a big boy and do that for me?” I then played along with his little game of conspiracies of Bigs everywhere and looked around to see if anyone was listening in before I then leaned over to him and whispered. “I even heard there might be a treat for some of you all if you were behaved today…” His facial features immediately became shocked, and his body went rigid like he was some soldier on parade. I half expected him to salute me right then. “Oh! I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I pwomise!” With that, he then speedily took off back to his level’s playroom, where I knew the rest would be waiting as well. I of course was stretching the truth a tad, just to keep him and the others in line, but given Mrs. Tatum and the way she cared about those under her watch, I highly doubted that there wouldn’t be a treat of some kind tonight. Taylor and the others didn’t need to know that it really wasn’t contingent on their behavior for me during story time. It could’ve been bad if they ever caught on, but for a few moments each time I reminded them, I knew each of the Littles I was about to confront during story time would be on their best behavior, just like always. So, I sighed and went downstairs to the toddler level room. Mrs. Tatum had converted it and the other floors for us Littles into three parts. They were comprised of a single large room and bathroom beyond the hallway outside of them that contained the staircase between levels. This way, the door could be closed to each room easily to allow for naptimes but still have a wide-open space inside for playtime or sleeping when the time was right. Now, when I walked in, each of the Littles were messing around with their own toys, playing make believe, or coloring. As soon as I stepped beyond the threshold though, the six Littles in the room immediately swarmed me. “Woah! Easy there, you all!” I panicked slightly as each tried to climb up on me as if they were really children and I was the adult in this society they thought I was, rather than just everyone here being an adult. Still, despite my outfit and the bruises I was sure to get by tonight, it was nice that I was able to feel mature for one single moment around here. When a Little nearly headbutted me though, I had to put my foot down. “Floor now, or no desert tonight!” A series of gasps flooded the room and every Little hit the floor as if someone had just announced there was an incoming mortar strike. One of the Littles, Justin, quickly looked up at me with wide eyes. “Pwease, Miss Em. We be good. Wight?” he asked as he turned around and asked his fellow Littles. Most nodded right away. Satisfied, he turned back to me and gave me the biggest pleading face I had seen yet here. “Pwease still wead to us?” I chuckled a little at the sight before me. “Oh, alright. I can’t say no to that face, but I need everyone to be on their best behavior, okay?” Each of the Littles before me nodded once again and I took my seat over on the rocking chair in the corner of the room by the shelf of books. Of course, the wood and blue chair showed me just how I small I really was in this world, but only people like me or the Bigs here could sit in it. So, to most everyone else here, it was practically my throne and I smiled as my subjects gathered before me. “Okay… which book did you all want to listen to today?” Each Little started sputtering several titles all at once to me, but I looked over the room and when I saw that Izzy was raising her hand, I raised my hand to quiet the room and then chose her. “Me?” she asked nervously. I nodded. “Yes, Izzy. I chose you today. What do you want me to read aloud today, huh?” The Little scanned the books still not picked off up the floor and then to the ones on the bookshelf. I could see she was struggling to see, or maybe even to read them, and I almost offered to help her out, knowing full well that many Littles sadly lost their ability to read, but she then piped back up. “Uh, can you read If You Give an Alces a Koulouri?” I smiled and nodded. It was quickly becoming one of my favorites to read aloud, as not only was it silly and therefore entertaining to the Littles before me, but because it largely dealt with animals, it was one of the few that didn’t put us Littles down or just outright praise the Bigs. So, smiling, I picked up the book from nearby and opened it to the first page. “Can everyone see?” I saw every Little enthusiastically nod their heads. “Okay…” I then looked to the first page and began. “If you give an alces a koulouri…” I lingered on the page for a moment so everyone could see the moose-like creature on the first page, but using my experience in reading to kids, which is practically most of them were mentally, I then flipped to the next page. “Then he’ll want some cream cheese to go along with it.” A few of the Littles giggled at the humorous imagery and I continued on, knowing that I had them hooked now. Several pages later, filled with the alces ending up with a bunch of koulouris on their wide antlers, and then one more book after that by popular demand, I could see that many of the Littles were already starting to nod off. I still finished the last book, but as soon as I closed the page, I saw a smiling Mrs. Tatum standing nearby. “Thank you, Emily. I think you might just have the magic touch.” I blushed a little at the praise, but I was just glad it was something positive said about me. “Maybe, but I think everyone was tired from the outing in the park earlier today. That really seems to do the trick.” Mrs. Tatum smiled and entered the room fully while two of her volunteers came in behind her. One was a Middle and the other was a Big. I got the distinct opinion that both minded my presence here, but both also took advantage of their time off when I read any of the stories aloud and distracted my fellow Littles. Sensing that it was now naptime, I soon exited the room. Before I did though, Mrs. Tatum gently and briefly paused me. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in a nap as well? Might feel nice.” I hated her persistent question, despite the fact that I was a little tired. The problem was though, I knew it was a loaded question. While I waited for a new passport or for the local government to determine what should be done with me, I had to wait here under the watchful eye of Mrs. Tatum. She was a lovely woman, but she was still a Big and given what I had already experienced, I felt that my maturity was already on the line in this house. My training panties were evidence enough of that. So, I quickly shook my head. “No, thank you though. I might rest a bit upstairs or just get a little more reading in.” Mrs. Tatum nodded but one of the other volunteers briefly scoffed. I ignored it and Mrs. Tatum probably just chalked it up to her now having to deal with a dirty diaper. It was just life around here and I quickly retreated to my room upstairs before any further incident could occur. A few hours later, I found out that Mrs. Tatum had to leave for some errands in town. It wasn’t far, and I could even see it sparkling in the sun from my large bedroom window, but I knew her errand fell right in the middle of dinner time. Now, I’m not picky necessarily and spice is pretty alright with me for most dishes, but mealtimes had become a bit of a bane of my existence here. Beyond the food even, Mrs. Tatum allowed me to eat with the adults at a later time, but when she was gone, her persistent and strict volunteer, Kathy, did not. “I don’t care what Mrs. Tatum allows you to do, Emma. I’m in charge when she’s gone. Not you,” she commanded down to me while in the kitchen. “You will eat with the other Littles and those of us who are actually adults.” “It’s Emily…” I reminded her for at least the third time today. “Come on… just let me please show you that I can at least…” “I said no!” Kathy practically spat back at me. “Do I need to remind you of your official place here? Despite what you do at reading time and what Mrs. Tatum lets you get away with, you’re still a Little. And don’t you go off and forget that. I promise you don’t want me to remind you.” Her words were cold and the only feeling I even remotely felt with her was dominance and ego. I knew my added presence here was a rub on her position as she used to read stories to the Littles herself before I came along. Mrs. Tatum couldn’t decide between us unfortunately, so we left it up to the Littles instead. It was a blind vote and only Mrs. Tatum and the Littles knew the exact final tally, but in the end, Kathy was no longer in charge of story time. Sulking a little, I cherished the fact that I at least was allowed to eat in a relatively normal booster seat at the table rather than the highchairs the other Littles had to endure themselves. Still, my demotion under her watch was a blow to my ego that was hard to swallow. Further, that evil wretch also ensured she gave me Big food to eat after I first asked for something more mature than the smiley potatoes or dino nuggets I had first been served here. It wasn’t always a problem, but for whatever reason, I guess most Bigs had a different palate than ours and most of their food was horribly spicy. I had learned how to cool it down or mellow out the flavor, but I’ll just leave it that the first time I experienced the new food, fire had practically erupted in my bathroom later that night. Regardless though, I got through another meal and was only able to get through another chapter before Mrs. Tatum popped her head in my cracked door, one of the rules being that I was never allowed to shut it. “Time for bed, Emily. Start getting ready and I’ll check on you in a bit. No dilly dallying,” I nodded and sighed as I started getting ready for bed as she had noted. I had fought with her at first with my bedtime being so early, but without a nap during the day and the fact that I had to expel twice the energy the Bigs did just to keep up with them, meant that I soon didn’t mind it and was even grateful for the fact that it was later than all the other Littles here. What I did mind though, was all the checking Mrs. Tatum would do before she let me go to bed. I know she was just doing her job, but as I was the only one in the big room up here, I think she lavished more attention on me than some of the other Littles. So, even as I finished everything, she would still come in and start going through her list. “Wash your face? Jammies? Brush your teeth? Go potty?” I would nod in the affirmative to each of her questions, and I knew I wasn’t upsetting her at least, but the routine was starting to get a little tedious, particularly the annoyingly persistent potty question. Once she was satisfied with all my answers though, she wished me a goodnight and began to leave the room, but something had been bugging me though and I quickly spoke up. “Is it always going to be like this?” Mrs. Tatum froze in the doorway before sighing and returning over to me. I could see she wanted to give me hope, but I could also see the hard reality of this world was jutting in as well. “I don’t think so, honey… I wish I really could give you a better answer than that, Emily, but it’s just so hard to say these days. You never know what’s going to happen next with all you Littles.” She sighed again. “I will say this though… if I can, I’ll try to keep you safe as best I can until you leave this place.” It wasn’t much, but it was that tiny sliver of hope I had been searching for to hear from her tonight. Kathy was getting to be a big problem and I worried about her doing something rash with me every day that she volunteered here and was solely in charge. “Thank you,” was about all I could say, and Mrs. Tatum just nodded and left my room before flicking off the lights. The next two days proved very much the same, but come Tuesday, Mrs. Tatum announced that she had to leave up north to new Columbia to visit her sick sister. She promised she would be back by Saturday night at the latest, but unfortunately, her absence only meant one thing to me: Kathy was now in charge. I quickly felt nauseous. At first, I think the two of us just honestly avoided each other as much as possible, but later that night, I could see the power in her head had been building and selected dinnertime to unleash her wrath on me. I didn’t even question my eating with the rest of the toddler level Littles as I had before, and I was expecting my usual meal of spicy Big food. With how I prepared it now, it was almost bordering on pleasant, but Kathy had other ideas. “Alright everyone, dig in!” she cheerfully chimed from the kitchen as she and the other volunteers then walked in and placed our plates of food in front of us. It didn’t take a genius to see what was wrong with my plate tonight. “Wook at that! Miss Em’s eatin’ the same thing we are!” Taylor noted to the rest of the table. I could feel the hot blush envelop my cheeks as I looked down and saw the vegetables, fruit, and of course, dino shaped nuggets. “Uh, what’s this?” “It’s Littles food, silly. You eat it,” Kathy almost seemed to joke. The other volunteers snickered in the corner as they left to finish preparing their own meal for later. I grimaced and looked down at my plate again. Admittedly, the fruit, vegetables, and even the small pond of ketchup-like substance in the corner of the plate were all fine. The nuggets though… having helped in meal prep for the Littles before, I knew the dirty secret that they were actually the cauliflower kind, but I also concernedly knew that they contained a mild laxative and some potent fiber. For unpotty-trained Littles, it just meant they didn’t get backed up. For me though… “Please, Kathy…” “Uh oh,” she mocked in her sing-song voice she mainly used on the other Littles. To them, it was almost playful, but to me, it was just meant as an insult. “Looks like someone doesn’t want to eat their veggies.” Several of the Littles gasped and I knew I had to handle this carefully. I couldn’t just outright say the reason I didn’t want to eat the nuggets but eating them was a whole other problem as well. “Kathy… I…” “Oh no. We have a picky eater. Let’s start the countdown everyone!” Most of the Littles nodded and I could feel my position weaken amongst them. Before, I was their superior, but now, I was being treated just like any other fussy Little. “One!” they began. I tried to utter out an excuse, but everyone followed Kathy’s lead and they jumped to “two!” before I could. “Kathy… please!” I tried begging again. “I can eat the veggies, but…” “Three!” everyone shouted. There were no halves, quarters, or even eights or thirds getting to three. It was just plain old successive ‘three.’ The word resounded in the dining room and every Little immediately looked at me and then up at Kathy. “Tsk, tsk…” Kathy chided as she shook her head in disappointment. “I guess someone needs a little trip over to the timeout stool…” Every Little here knew about the stool and had experienced it for themselves in the living room at one point or another. It was in the front of the house and prominently situated underneath the naughty chart there to show any visitor or the family when watching TV that the Little seated there had messed up. I had sat there only twice by now, both when I first got here, and my negative behavior was marked by the corresponding two stars. Now, I would be getting a third. And so, it went. Kathy marched me over from the table to the stool and made me sit there for thirty minutes to think about my naughty behavior. In retrospect, I suppose the lesson was for me to learn that I was just like any other Little under Big rules, but I only sat there that night and fumed. In the end, as usual, I still had to eat my dinner, and before I went to bed that night, I could already feel the effects when I went potty as part of my still-present night routine. The next day, once again, I just tried to avoid Kathy, but I was just interminably grateful that I was alone and practically had the bathroom on my floor to myself. Some Littles from downstairs would use it if they could, or one of the volunteers would use it if the one made for them up or downstairs was full, but today, I occupied it the most often. I didn’t have any accidents, but my bowels were wrecked from just the six nuggets I had eaten forcibly last night. For her part, Kathy just despicably grinned at me the whole day. Unfortunately, her toying with me didn’t end there. By Thursday though, I think my resignation and focus on only my bowel issues on Wednesday had left her wanting something more from me. So, my day began with my shower, but when I returned, another volunteer was there. “Look,” Tawnya began, her face looking like she wanted to be anywhere else but there right then. “Kathy scares me as well, and so when she asks me to do something, I do it.” Her eyes then darted over to an outfit on my bed. “I’m sorry…” My eyes widened as I more closely examined the outfit she was pointing to. At first, I thought the checkered seafoam green dress was just like any of the others I had worn here. It had a bow and was shorter than most of the others, but it wasn’t too terrible. Then I saw that I was only going to be able to wear the dress… without any tights on underneath it. “I can’t wear that!” Tawnya sighed. “Please, Emily? Please can you just wear it today? I have a job to do, and Kathy selected that outfit for you specifically. Training panties as well…” My eyes raced back over and saw the thick panties colored in a similar seafoam green with a large whale printed across the butt. My heart raced and I felt that I was eternally doomed if Kathy was to stay here and rule over me, but I resolved it within myself that Mrs. Tatum was really the one in charge. I only had a few days to go, so to keep the peace and for the sake of Tawnya, I just nodded my head. She smiled back at me and helped me get dressed in the new outfit, yet another requirement that Kathy had insisted on lately. I would have protested as well, but I just had to put it out of my mind that I was standing in front of this Big in the nude. I wanted to punch Kathy so hard right then, but I knew grumbling wouldn’t do me any good, so I just braced against Tawnya’s shoulder as she ruffled the panties up my legs when I stepped into them. Finally, the process was done, and I subjected myself to another breakfast with the other Littles, which was followed by another trip to the park. The place was wide, free, and Little friendly, so Mrs. Tatum often took us here to expel our energies. I resigned myself to just reading today, trying to keep my dress as low as I could so I wouldn’t accidentally show off my training panties to just any stranger walking by. It didn’t help that there was also a breeze, and once again, I could see Kathy’s wicked grin every once in a while, when I would glance over at her. Still, we all got back to the foster home in one piece and just in time for lunch. My crust was cut off, my plate was in the shape of a rhino, and my utensils were all plastic, but it was still a good meal. Unfortunately, I also felt a need to pee right then. So, without thinking, I just got up from the table, remembering rule three of the guide for Littles I had read before coming here: if you feel the need to go and there is a bathroom nearby, use it immediately. “And where do you think you’re going?” Kathy sternly asked, looking in from the kitchen. I froze and answered back as politely as I could. “Just to the bathroom…” “You have to ask before you can go potty, Emma…” she shot back with a glare right in my direction. I practically had to stick my fingers in my eyes to keep them from rolling over that statement, but I nodded instead and kept calm. “I’m sorry. May I use the restroom?” I asked, making sure I used the proper question. ‘Can I use the restroom’ was almost universally known as the death knell for any Little as it always raised a legitimate concern with Bigs about Littles; could the Little in question actually go potty? The English teach in me would have been mortified if I tripped up on that sort of trap around here. Regardless, though, Kathy smiled. “Of course you can, honey.” I nodded and ran upstairs. Unfortunately, someone had left their toys on the second floor by the younger Littles room. The Littles in there rarely left their room and were attended to by two separate near-constantly watching volunteers. The house only had two Littles that mental age now and both were practically newborns, having been found in some kind of back alley testing facility. Even then though, it just made Bigs seem to desire them more and there was already a couple willing to take both home by next Tuesday. Regardless, the plastic train stubbed my toe, and I willed everything in my being not to curse out loud right then. I was successful though, and I continued up to my floor. Just my luck though, I had caused a commotion, and it didn’t take long for Kathy to quickly follow behind me up the stairs. “Everything okay?” I nodded and just hoped she would go away. She didn’t. “You have to be more careful on the stairs, Emma. Maybe you just need a little extra help today. Let me go with you.” Before I had a chance to respond, Kathy took my hand and led me up the stairs, her grip near vice-like. Panicking, as we rounded the corner, I took the opportunity of our weaker connection, and I wrenched my arms from hers. “Get off me! I don’t need your help!” Kathy frowned immediately. “Don’t you take that tone with me, missy!” I just walked away, trying to avoid conflict, and still having to pee. I had miscalculated though, and it had the opposite effect. “And where do you think you’re going?” Kathy asked, her hands now situated on both hips and her breathing turning almost into a snarl of sorts. “You apologize to me right now!” At the single moment, I realized I had two options. First, I could apologize, humiliate myself and possibly even show Kathy that I needed her help… at least in her mind. Second, though, I could refuse, and she could get angry and likely punish me further. Seeing as she was already angry though, and the first could just lead to more problems in my future, I shook my head. “No!” As if the hallways had suddenly turned into an echo chamber, my voice seemingly bounced off the walls and appeared to almost shake Kathy right where she stood. For a moment, I thought she might even back down, but sticking to character, she didn’t. “No? What do you mean ‘no?’” Her tone quickly became darker, and her hulking presence inched closer to me as she looked down on me in fury. “You don’t say no to me! You got that? I am a Big here and you are a Little! I don’t care who you used to be or that you’re trying to go back home. You’re in our world now and you’re nothing but a Little. You’re either going to learn your place or you’ll be sorry.” With that finally spat, she yanked my hand and dragged me up the final leg of stairs to my floor. I quickly wondered if I had made the right call in defying her, but something was telling me that I hadn’t. Kathy then quickly stopped in front of the bathroom and my heart dropped. “Decision time. Either be the Little you are or face the consequences. There is no third option.” I looked in the bathroom and saw there was now a child’s potty sitting on the ground next to the smaller toilet, horrifyingly now locked with a heavy-duty mechanism arcing over the top. Even if I said no, I would still need help to get it off or instead just use the little purple potty now in there. At that moment though, I also realized that Kathy was insisting she go in with me while I did my business. Since I was given the training panties on day one here, it was a thought that had utterly terrified me of being watched like a little kid fresh off potty training. It seemed according to Kathy, today was going to be the day that I would cross that line in my potty habits, and I wasn’t sure if it was a line that could ever be recrossed or undone. Now, admittedly, I know a lot of people probably would have just given in, just like I knew before as well that they wouldn’t have turned right at the statue down the alleyway. I know those things and that I’m not perfect either. I was a fully independent and successful teacher back on Earth… no executive I will admit, but one just doesn’t turn off being an adult in these types of situations. I challenge anyone else not to put up a little fight or struggle to maintain their independence at least a little bit in situations like these. So, despite hating myself as soon as I did it, I shook my head. Sadly, it turned out it was the last straw for Kathy. Anger flashed across her face. Her movements were swift and deliberate as she grabbed my wrist once more and dragged me into my room. The basic décor stood in stark contrast to the other more fun and cutesy rooms of the house, but I had always appreciated that. Now, the starkness just gave me less to focus on as Kathy glared down at me. “Don’t you move one muscle.” Her voice was calculating, and I could almost feel myself wince as she then left and went over to a door on one end of the room. It had been locked the whole time I had been there and had just assumed it was another closet in here next to mine. It wasn’t. “Hmmm…” Kathy mused as the door finally opened, “which one today?” I tried to get a better look, but her large Big-sized body just blocked nearly every inch of the narrow opening. “Aha! Perfect!” She retrieved something and quickly closed the door back up before walking back over to me. I tried to make out what was now in her hand, but when I did, I wished I hadn’t. There, all bright red and shiny even, was a long spanking paddle. Holes filled the end that was a little over the length of her hand, making the whole thing just a shade under three feet in total. I gulped as she strutted back over to me with it swaying ominously from her hand. She sat down, smiled sadistically at me, and then patted her lap. “Come, Emily. It’s time you get acquainted with another punishment that most Littles experience at least once. Something’s telling me you’ll be fast friends with it quite soon though.” I eyed the spanking implement balanced gracefully in her hand and my knees seemed to turn into jelly. I wanted to move, but I was finding it hard to take a step further. “I meant now! Don’t make me come over there!” she thundered at my slow movements. Despite nearly collapsing at each step, my fear of her only making things worse for me was a powerful motivating factor. “Turn around,” she then commanded me. I nodded and turned, and to my horror, I could feel her giant hand snatch the back of my training panties and drop them to my ankles. My face flushed with embarrassment, but I didn’t have long to feel it. “Over my lap… now!” I hopped right to it and eased myself over her lap. Her things provided ample room for me to lay down on, but I could still feel the heat rise in my cheeks and my whole body become very uncomfortable as she lifted my short skirt up towards my back. I couldn’t see it, but I knew she now had a perfect target across my vulnerable behind in order for her to ‘teach me a lesson.’ “It didn’t need to be this way, Emma…” Kathy started, almost seeming disappointed in me. “Now, as this is your first spanking here, I will go easy on you. I think just 15 smacks in a row should do.” I could almost feel myself shaking in fear as she began to rub my butt all around. I think it was to prepare my skin or something like that, but it just gave me more time to contemplate my ultimate doom. Under this roof, I felt I was already losing so much of who I was. I had only been here now for a little over two weeks, and there were some rumors that a new passport lately could take three months to be renewed. It didn’t bode well for me at all. “Okay, ready?” she asked in a surprisingly mellow voice. I wasn’t sure why the change was present, but my best guess was that now was business more than her pleasure. Before, intimidation was critical, but now, a lesson being learned seemed more important to her. Regardless, I just nodded my head and braced for impact. “One!” she called out. The first spank hit me like a linebacker and sounded like a thunderclap. I bit my lips to keep from yelling out, but by the sixth, I just couldn’t help it anymore. Fire began to scorch every inch of my posterior and I tried to keep my squirming down, but after each of the thousands of needle-like blows hit me, my who body would go rigid, and I would involuntarily struggle to be free. Still, Kathy was relentless in her punishment of me. AS if she was painting a canvas, soon, there was not a single spot that didn’t ache or scream in pain. I was quickly reduced to a puddle of tears, and my only relief came when Kathy finally reached the magic number, 15. She rubbed my butt for a little longer and even applied some lotion to it. It stung something awful at first, but after a few moments, I felt eh sweet relief of pain, even if it was just for a single moment. Seeming satisfied now, she then carefully helped me stand up again. “Now, are you going to be a good girl for me and listen?” I wanted so badly to tell her no or to screw herself, but my butt just throbbed and ached for me to say otherwise. Not being able to form the words though, I just nodded. It seemed like it was enough and Kathy just smiled and led me to the bathroom, where, under her supervision, I finally relieved myself. “Good girl!” she praised. My cheeks flushed again, but once more, my butt just screamed out to me more than anything else. Still, Kathy seemed happy for once and led me back to my room and turned out the lights so I could have ‘a little alone time.’ I cried myself to sleep and just hoped something would change. Nothing did, but I was about the most compliant Little ever, so even into Friday, all seemed okay between Kathy and I now. By the end of the day though, I could tell she was itching to reassert her authority over me, whether I warranted it or not. So, after dinner, I retreated upstairs with the other Littles. “Oh, Emma?” I turned around and faced my tormentor and many of the other Littles did as well. “I think you’ve had a long week and with tomorrow being Saturday and all, I think you should have an earlier bedtime tonight. How about you have the same as the rest of the toddler Littles, huh?” Despite my bruised posterior, I could feel the anger swelling up inside of me. I wanted to be compliant to at least avoid being punished, but this time, I hadn’t done anything wrong and yet I was still being degraded like all the others. It was too much right in that moment, and I stepped forward… but I felt a hand quickly stop me going further from behind me. I looked back and another Little, Lilly, gravely shook her head. I could tell she was scared for me right away and not wanting to upset her while also seeing the wisdom of her restraint, I nodded. So, I then looked back up at Kathy and summoned just about all the will I could muster to smile politely back at her. “That sounds like a… good idea. Best to be awake tomorrow…” Kathy sickeningly smiled back at me, and I just took it in and retreated back upstairs with the rest of my kind. Lilly soon confronted me as we ascended the stairs. “You getting’ in trouble is jus’ bad, Miss Em.” I nodded in resignation. “I know Lilly. I just… it’s hard, you know?” I could tell she wasn’t completely sure if she did know, but from what I had gathered since, everyone knew about my punishment yesterday and everyone here had received it at one point in their stay here. Despite my lack of information, I knew that if nothing else, though, she was trying to help me out and prevent what had already happened to me from getting worse. “Yeah,” she said a little hesitant. “Just be careful. Dis area’s dangerous for dose who don’ follow da rules, in here or out dere…” I acknowledged what she told me, but it was just a concept that didn’t seem to want to stick in my head. I of course would try and avoid being punished, but there was just a sense of being an adult that I couldn’t shake. Regardless though, I just settled down for the night an hour early and hoped that tomorrow would bring me just that. Now, Saturday is family day around here. Of course, we Littles don’t have family here in this dimension most likely, but it was a day set aside during the week that we all looked forward to for one reason or another. See, it was where prospective caregivers would come and meet with, or even rent out, one of us for the day. The hope was to build a bond between us and them that could ensure a proper fit and later smooth transition if they decided to begin the adoption process. Unfortunately, being the mental age I was, my prospects were usually fairly slim, so my potential escape plan from Kathy later would always come up short. Further, once any Big beyond that hurdle found out I was applying for another passport as well, Mrs. Tatum had informed me that it was practically the final nail in my coffin against me for most. So, as a result, I had spent the past two Saturdays with Nancy, and I didn’t mind one bit. Of course, Nancy would still come around during the week when she could, but her job as a high-level executive at one of the local bigwig companies this week meant that today was the first time I had seen her in a week. From the other times she had come here, she knew about my various struggles, but after this last week with Kathy, I now had a whole new set of problems. “So, she even spanked me on Thursday and sent me to bed early yesterday,” I explained to Nancy once we exchanged our usual pleasantries and she apologized for not making it here sooner. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Emily,” she said was a sad face. Her eyes then scanned over me and I could see her eyebrows raise just a bit. “I see she’s also selecting some… different outfits for you lately?” I looked own at my outfit, this one only composed of tight dark pants and a shirt that spouted the phrase, ‘#1 Princess.’ It was a bit mortifying, especially considering my training panties puffed out against the dark fabric. “You could say that…” We talked for a little while longer, even going so far as to walk around outside as we did so. Kathy almost denied us leaving the foster home, but Nancy got her way in the end after some selective and strong words. Oddly, that type of force against my latest foe had made me see her differently after that. Nancy was a Big, so I wasn’t naive and a little nervous about that, but I would have been blind to say that she wasn’t at least a bit protective of me. It wasn’t much, but at the same time, something was telling me that this week with Kathy, now that it had happened, wouldn’t be the last. If I stayed here, I wasn’t confident that I would be making it back home as the same woman I had left Earth as. So, a new thought popped into my head. It was so simple, and a huge risk on my part, but faced with my current options, it at least seemed the safest path away from Kathy. Mulling it over a bit more, once we passed the swing set that I had come to know so well over the past weeks, I told Nancy my proposal. For her part, Nancy just listened and to my relief, actually seemed to give it some legitimate thought. Still, I could see her hesitancy as well. “I don’t know, Emily… me taking you in from this place? It’s a lot to ask…” I nodded my head. “I know Nancy, but I don’t think I’m going to make it here. Mrs. Tatum and the other Littles are great, but Kathy… I’m just not sure how long I can stay as who I am if she’s treating me like the helpless Little I think she wants me to be. I just feel that something is going to happen and it’s going to cause me a lot of issues down the road. Does that make sense?” Nancy nodded and we then walked another block as our conversation switched around a little. Finally, as we came to a large tree just off the path, she looked back at me. “Okay… I’ll do it, but you need to know, because of your situation and all and my job… there’s going to be some stipulations…” My mind raced with the possibilities, but at least she had said yes. I was so desperate to get away from Kathy and her schemes, that if Nancy asked me to do her laundry every day as that stipulation, I think I would have agreed to it in a heartbeat without much thought. Still, a little voice in the back of my head wanted to know more. “What sort of stipulations exactly?” Nancy smiled. “Nothing hugely impactful, but because of LPS and all, we need to keep up a front for them. At home, you could be free and go to bed at midnight for all I care, but if they ever came over, I would need you to act like the best Little in the world. The slightest hesitation or bad behavior, in their minds at least, and the jig would be up.” She paused for a moment and scratched the back of her head. I braced for what was coming next. “Also… I have a job and I can’t leave you at home by yourself… that would only lead to many things only being worse… for both of us actually.” I didn’t like where this was headed, but I was weighing any options she told to me against what Kathy wanted now and likely in the future. As long as it wasn’t diapers, I felt confident that I would say yes to almost anything. “Go on…” Nancy sighed. “Well, for Littles, there aren’t too many options for during the day, but I think I saw an ad the other day for… to be honest, a daycare.” I think she was waiting for me to bolt, but I just stood my ground. “Yeah… I know it’s probably not ideal, but this place specializes in curated times to occupy your day based on your mentality. It’s got multiple levels for dealing with Littles and is some of the most top tier care in the city. We can always find something else, but what do you think?” Her stipulations weren’t diapers and before, I knew that was about my only caveat in whatever they turned out to be. I had so many other questions, but for now, on the surface level at least, Nancy had presented a way forward to me that just might work. Daycare admittedly, but it was something that seemed better than what fate awaited me with Kathy if I stayed in Mrs. Tatum’s foster home. So, with a sigh, I nodded. “I’m in.” Nancy smiled and we both began walking back to the house to start filling out the paperwork. I would still have another few days at the bare minimum for the paperwork to go through and for Nancy’s house to be inspected by LPS first, but I knew I was taking a big leap into my future. Nancy seemed much better than Kathy though, so I just crossed my fingers and hoped everything would be fine for a few months until I could get my passport back.

Chapter 38: Emergency Meeting Little in Love 2 – LittleFallenPrincess I stood at the gates of the Parliament building, looking at the two intimidating amazon police officers guarding the entrance. All I had to do was walk straight past them… but once I had, I was vulnerable. The protestors were on this side of the fence, and I would be surrounded by only amazons on that side, most of whom must hate my guts now. At least I didn’t have to fear being arrested anymore. Though if things don’t work out… arrest isn’t the ‘a’ word I was worried about. At least legally they couldn’t adopt me now that Charlie was up and back to normal, she would be my Mummy if anything did happen regarding my adult status. I felt a squeeze on my shoulder, and looking up, I saw a very worried Claire looking down at me. “I’ll be fine.” I reminded her. This wasn’t the first time today I had told her, but I don’t think any amount of me lying through my teeth was going to make Claire feel better about this situation. She kept insisting to go with me, that Charlie had told her to keep me safe, that she would do anything to protect me… but the guards were not going to let her in with me. That’s when someone I hadn’t seen in a while walked over and stood right in front of me. “Hi there, Liv.” Jacob said, grinning at me. “You’ve been busy… and pissing off the right people, it seems!” “Jacob!” I replied, running over to my colleague’s arms as he bent down on one knee and held his arms open for me. I gave him the biggest hug and then stepped back a couple of paces whilst he stayed on one knee so he could continue to talk to me at my height. “I heard you were expected to attend, though I never thought you’d actually turn up. Aren’t you afraid of…” “Being arrested? Arrest warrant withdrawn, didn’t you hear? And as for adoption? Charlie is back to normal, so if anything did happen, I belong to her.” I smiled up at him, trying to put on a brave face. “Charlie is okay? Oh thank god… I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner. The boss didn’t want us talking to you or your friends. Wanted as much distance as possible. And I didn’t want to lose my seat to another one of his ‘friends’.” “I don’t blame you, Jacob. I’m glad you didn’t get yourself removed, we’re going to need you.” “What for? I heard this is an emergency meeting to talk to you about resolving these protests and getting everything back to normal. Though the fact he called for the whole parliament to get together and discuss it, instead of talking to you in private, makes me think he’s got something up his sleeve regarding you, something he’ll need a vote on.” “Ha! Normal… Yeah no… we’re not doing that. Not any more. This is the time for change. I’m gonna drag that wheezebag into this century kicking and screaming if need be.” “So you’re really going to challenge him, before he can challenge you?” Jacob looked surprised. “What other opportunity will I have?” “I… well if it means anything, you have my full support. I… I’ll back anything you suggest in there.” “Thanks. I knew I could trust you.” I said, smiling up at him. “I wanted to help people. Amazons and littles. And our party has been taken over by a corrupt few, intent on destroying what trust the public had in us. I just hope… more of our party sees it too.” “Don’t worry, I’m sure they will.” That’s when I heard a cough coming from behind me. “So…” Claire began, interrupting our conversation. “You’re ‘Jacob’... I can see why Liv trusts you.” “You can see that just from looking at me?” Jacob replied, turning his gaze to Claire, who was hovering behind me. “That… and the very thorough background check I ran on you when Liv first got her position.” “You…?” “Don’t worry, she does that with all my friends. Though only if they’re amazons.” I said, laughing awkwardly. “I… well I guess I’m flattered. And I’m happy Olivia has a friend so… dedicated… to keeping her safe.” Jacob replied, even more awkwardly. “And that’s why you’re going to take care of her.” Claire said… the only one with a serious face right now. “Huh?” Jacob said, standing up and looking at her, confused. “I can’t go in, the police won’t let me. But you… you can go in. I trust you, because Liv trusts you. I want you to keep an eye on her and make sure if anything does happen… you will get her to safety. Can you do that?” “I… I can try.” “No, I need you to promise. Because if you betray her, I will hunt…” “Claire! He’ll keep me safe, won’t you, Jacob?” I interrupted, worrying for the safety of my friend. “Yeah. I’ll… I’ll protect you, Liv. Just… if there is trouble, stay close.” He replied, nodding at me. I smiled and nodded back at him, before turning to Claire to give her the ‘it’s okay, you can stand down now’ look. She bent down and fixed my blazer and shirt, before turning me around and whispering in my ear. “Be careful in there. And don’t let them walk over you. They are desperate.” I nervously gripped my sleeves as I stepped foot into the enormous, very old, hall. Just moments before, it was a noisy, bustling hub of people all arguing at each other. You could even hear the speaker trying to keep order, but no one was listening to him. I wondered just what I had gotten myself into. Because if they hadn’t had their minds changed by now… there was no hope for getting anything done today. But now, as soon as we walked in, or to be more specific, as soon as I walked in… it was as silent as a graveyard. Everyone had stopped and turned to look at me, and the silence was deafening. Jacob stood by my side, and I could even hear him gulp in fear at having all these people looking at us. “Mrs Clarke…” the Speaker of the House announced, finally breaking the silence. “Glad you could join us. And apparently, also do my job better than I could. Now, if you’ll all take your seats, we have some important business to attend to.” I nodded and smiled awkwardly at the Speaker, who just ignored me, before I walked over to my place on the back benches with Jacob following close behind me. I could see the majority of the House all looking at me as they took their seats, whispering to each other and giving me snide looks from across the Commons, so I tried my best to ignore them and try to get through this in one piece. Ideally with my mind intact. “Mr Prime Minister…” The Speaker announced. “Please…” The Prime Minister, who always looked like a snobby arsehole anyway, got up with his little book in hand, walked over to the stand and placed it down, open. “My honourable…” “OH SHUT UP!” A woman yelled, interrupting the PM before he even had a chance to introduce himself to the chamber. My eyes widened as the hundreds of MPs all looked over at the origin of the yelling. “Excuse me…?” The Prime Minister replied. “We don’t want to listen to whatever bullshit you come out with!” The woman continued. “ORDER! ORDER!” The Speaker said, trying to maintain decorum. “No, fuck order! Have you seen it out there? The people want his head!” I was still trying to find the source of this brave soul who had spoken up against our corrupt leader. But what I could tell… was that it was coming from our side of the Commons, which means… it’s one of our own members! A second later, a small group of people started mumbling, sounding like they were agreeing with her and trying to rally support for this woman. I took one look at Jacob, who just… smiled at me. “Who… who is that?” I asked him. “Just watch…” He replied, still smiling. I looked over to the source of the commotion to see one of the Amazons on our side stand up. She was… one of the backbench MPs, just a nobody MP from the middle of the country. She didn’t have any ministerial position, she never appeared in the news, she was just… a nobody. But here she was, standing up against our leader. Lorna Carter. I think that was her name. She never interacted with me, I never interacted with her. I only knew she existed because Jacob had told me a little about her a while ago, saying she wasn’t like the others in leadership. She looked like a nobody too, with a brown bob of hair and a cheap suit… you could tell the difference between those in charge of our party and the majority of the MPs who won them the election. She had a kind face, one that made me think that maybe I had more allies than I thought… maybe they were just too scared to show themselves? Until now that is. Because it wasn’t just her standing up, it was a group surrounding her, all of whom were Amazons, all supporting her and cheering as she argued with the Prime Minister. “The country is on the brink of collapse, all because you turned your back on those who won you the election. Littles. You promised them so much… then turned around and threw them under the train.” She continued. The number of MPs agreeing with her started getting larger and larger, with more and more of them standing up to show their support, even some from the smaller parties. “You wormed your way into our party, winning people with false promises, installing people who followed your instructions… all so you could throw littles under the first chance you could.” That’s when I heard a slight bit of static suddenly. “Liv?” I heard in my ear. Thankfully, due to the commotion, I could quietly reply to the person trying to talk to me. “Faith? Is that you? How… how did you get on LIBRA’s frequency?” I whispered back. I had the common sense to put an earpiece in my ear before coming to this discussion, as I knew the Prime Minister wouldn’t be broadcasting this, despite most meetings in the Commons being streamed to the public. So with the help of Dotty, we were at least recording the hearing so we could let the public see what kind of leader the Prime Minister really is, hoping that maybe it’ll give us more ammo to use against him. What I hadn’t expected… was Faith getting in touch through it. “I contacted them when I couldn’t get in touch with you. I have an important update.” Faith replied, sounding… excited. “I can’t right now, Faith… I’m kinda in the middle of…” I whispered. “A meeting? I know. But this…” “Faith, another time, please…” “It’s to do with the device…” “I… Faith, can it wait? I need to wait for my oppor…” “LIV, IT’S THE SOURCE OF THE BRUTE FORCE HYPNOSIS!” I stood there, in stunned silence, as the House of Commons erupted into back and forth shouting between the Prime Minister, the opposition, and the rebel faction of our own government. “I… wait… you mean…” “I was taking it apart after… you know… and I was rooting around the code. And I can’t believe I missed it the first time, the base code that reprograms an Amazon’s mind when it hypnotises them, is the same code that I saw when I did a little research into the brute force thing for your friend.” Faith explained, sounding like a kid explaining their special interest. “You… were…?” “Helping Eve? Yeah, once I fixed Charlie, Eve asked me for help regarding your friend, Amber. I didn’t think I could help, but I managed to obtain one of the tapes used to ‘brute force’ hypnotise littles and look through the original code. Which means I’m pretty certain it originated from the device. It’s how it managed to bypass both yours and also Charlie’s nanite defence, albeit with massively reduced effectiveness. Which means that Chris…” “...created the hypnosis to use on littles… his own kind…” “Exactly.” “Thanks, Faith.” “That’s not all… I think I could reverse the effects. It won’t be a quick and simple fix, it’ll probably take months of rehabilitation, maybe even a year or two, but with Eve’s nanites, and my old code that I used for yours… I could… maybe make something to reverse the majority of the effects.” “You…” “Liv? Are you okay?” Jacob asked, interrupting both my conversation with my sister and my own thoughts. “I… think I just found something wonderful.” I replied to him. “Faith, I’ll talk to you later. You and Eve work on that. If we can save Amber… and all the other littles…” “I know. Morgan said she’s on her way to help too. So I’ll talk to you later. Good luck!” Faith replied, sounding more hopeful than I have heard her in a long time. I turned to Jacob, smiling from ear to ear. “What’s up? What did you find?” He asked. “A smoking gun.” ======================================================= Nice early chapter for you all, so I can have the rest of the day free to do fun stuff with friends Enjoy! My new story just had it's first chapter on SubscribeStar, so expect it here in a couple of weeks (at least that's the current plan). Also thinking of opening up short story commissions now too finally, now that my writers block seems to have subsided. If you haven't seen, I'm now up and running on Subscribestar! (Sorry for the reminder again, trying to get my subscribers back after the Patreon rubbish!) ======================================================== I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! If you want to read the next 4 chapters, thanks to two weeks early access to my main story and also soon-to-be exclusive access to short stories (or even have a chance at commissioning one when I add the tier for them!), why don't you check out my SubscribeStar! 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Very promising. Sort of in between the diaper dimension and the keeperverse. I like it.

This is the crux of it for me. Sure, it might have been better life planning to have sought to meet my spouse on an ABDL site or a convention or whatever, but that would have given me access to ~0.5% or less of the population from which to select a partner which, ideally, is going to match with me on more than just my underwear preferences. Would I want to be dating or married to someone who is willing to be mommy on demand, but who is also, say, an idiot, or financially illiterate, or domineering or narcissistic or antisocial or who doesn't enjoy travelling, isn't a great cook, etc etc... no. As it happened, I didn't know I was somewhere on the ABDL spectrum when we got married and had kids, anyway - I'd been deeply fascinated with wearing diapers as a kid, but I had parted ways with that side of me (I thought) after being confronted by my stepfather when I was 13, and for 20+ years, I had no engagement with that. I'd never looked it up online - I didn't even realize it was a thing. I thought I was a lone freak who had outgrown his fascination with plastic underpants, which surly was the byproduct of being a prolific bedwetter, something which I had also outgrown. So, when "this" came flooding back, I wasn't going to start shopping for another partner, blowing up my life in the process. I ended up risking that, in a real sense, via opening up to my spouse about this aspect of myself, however I got lucky, in that evidently, my pluses outweigh my negatives in the economics of love, so I'm still married, rather than living in a van down by the river. I felt that "this" was coming between us, and I knew that sooner or later, she'd find out, so that was my impetus for taking the chance. All of that said, I know I'm asking a lot, for someone who is deeply vanilla to be okay with her husband wearing baby diapers all the time, so I make damned sure that I indulge her preferences and desires whenever I can - there has to be as much giving as there is taking, for any relationship to work.

Chapter Four Ai paced the room, thinking furiously. Every so often, glass would crunch underneath her shoes. “What was on the mem?’ she asked. “It wasn’t entirely clear,” said Bala. "You know how it is with mems within mems. They "won't work either," Salman laughed. "Or at least, not the way you want. Your brain is already playing a mem; it simply can't properly handle the complexity of a nested mem." I sighed. I'd been all alone in a very cold place,” Bala continued. “It chilled my bones to the core. Then I came to a soft, warm place and I saw you there.” Ai simply nodded, enraptured. “I’d learned how to be a good girl,” Bala said abstractly, “and I saw you and I was excited because I knew you were a good girl too and we were going to be friends…” She trailed off. If the last two mems had been any indication, Bala would have also been an overgrown baby. For some reason, this seemed to be a constant across all the mems. But if Ai were also a “good girl”, then did that mean… Ai held her hands together and played with her fingers, imagining what that would be like. To have someone like Rosa, who would unconditionally love her. To embody goodness, like how Bala helped Vivian. And to know that she could be blameless, like a Doll, unable to do any wrong, and perfect by existing. “Maybe we’re friends,” Ai suggested. “Each of the mems we've seen had people important to you in them. You might be here putting away mems of me...” It seemed sad. What was the point of living if you didn’t remember it? Mems were wonderful because you could share a slice of your lived experience. You didn’t have to just imagine walking a mile in someone else’s moccasins; you could just go do it. “Would that mean that we should stop looking at these mems?” Bala wondered anxiously. “If I’m not supposed to know what's on them, then I should stop…” She looked at the empty mem in her hand doubtfully, then at the wreckage surrounding them. Ai opened her mouth to agree. If she thought about it, even if she didn't understand why, it was pretty clear that Bala hadn't wanted these mems. The proper thing to do was to respect that and to leave her to...whatever it was that she was doing. But before she could say anything, she was caught up in the rush of new feelings that were coursing through her body like a raging river. Each mem had one thing in common, beyond just being Bala's. Whether it was Rosa or Chetna or even Mommy, Bala always had someone taking care of her. All of Ai's past relationships were shallow puddles compared to the depth of security and comfort each of Bala's partners had in those mems. It wasn't so wrong to want that, right? The desire to love and be loved—it was just human nature. Just as Bala had felt at peace in the thrall of a Command, Ai felt secure within the four walls of this room. It was just her, and Bala, and a trove of mems to enjoy. What was waiting for her outside? Her parents had scarcely been in the ground for a week before she'd fled to Concordium. Salman and her weren't on speaking terms anymore. Ai felt her hand inching towards a dark green and red mem on the shelf by her. She watched passively as she picked it up and idly rolled it around in her fingers. What was the harm in these mems? One more couldn't hurt. Maybe if she saw enough mems, she'd find out how Bala had gotten into these relationships. Then she could leave. It wouldn't hurt anyone, right? So what came out her mouth instead was: "We'd better keep looking just to be sure." Before she could change her mind, she put my stickers all over the coloring book. It was what the grownup in the pink scrubs told me to do while we waited for someone special to arrive. The rhythm was hypnotic. Peel. Stick. Peel. Stick. Suddenly, a woman’s voice rang out. “Do you remember me?” she asked. I looked up to see a brown-haired woman with glasses and my heart skipped a beat. Not because of her. No, it was because she reminded me of Her. I nodded. “What do you remember?” she asked. I felt the tug of the rubber teat slide against my mouth as she pulled my pacifier out. “You took Ai away, an’ I went to the Cold Room,” I said, sticking a fairy sticker haphazardly onto the corner of the page as I shuddered. It had been bad enough the first time. But the second? To be thrown back into the sea of samsara, knowing that it was your own fault for trusting— “Why did I do that?” asked the grownup, interrupting my thoughts. I didn’t mind though. It was an easy question.“‘Cuz you did,” I said simply. The woman leaned in just a little bit. “Do you think it’s my fault you went to the Cold Room?” she asked. I shook my head. “Nuh uh. It’s Ai’s fault. ‘Cuz she made my choices, an’ that’s not nice.” I kept putting stickers on the page, but now my fingers hurt from jabbing them onto the paper and hitting the table beneath me. It was better than biting my nails, but not by much. “She made your choices?” the woman asked. “But I didn’t?” More simple questions. I didn’t mind, though. I liked talking to grownups, because they said what they wanted from me, and then I could give it to them. “You just did a thing you did. But she tricked me to do somethin’ I didn’t wanna do,” I said, angrily putting a panda on on top of the fairy. “What did you want to do?” asked the woman. I blinked away hot tears. “I wanted to be a good girl.” Shame welled up inside of me. The thing about being good was that you could be good for days and days and days, but it never really erased when you were bad. No matter what I did ever since, I’d never be able to escape the fact that on the day I helped Ai, I’d been a bad girl. “What do you want now?” asked the grownup, interrupting my thoughts. “To be a good girl, still,” I said. Even if I couldn’t erase the stain of my sin, I could blot it out with countless other good actions, like water diluting a poison. “What are you making?” she continued. Her voice sounded oddly curious, as if she were carefully weighing my answers. I didn’t know what scale she was using, but I hoped they were satisfactory. “Nothin’,” I responded. “Just doin’ it ‘cuz I wanna.” I’d gotten changed into a fresh diaper, and then put in this room. It was something to do. “What if I told you to stop?” I could hear the unspoken intent. Grownups didn’t always say what they meant. You had to be a good listener sometimes. So I closed my book and looked up at her. Her eyes had an odd twinkle in them. “You don’t want to do your stickers anymore?” She gestured at the book. I shook my head. “I wanna be a good girl,” I responded. In response, the woman simply tilted her head to the side. “I’m not tricking you like Ai did?” “No,” I said immediately. “Because this is what I want.” Because I wanted to want what grownups wanted from me. It was only right. Behind her glasses, I saw her eyes harden. She seemed to have decided something. “Bala, I have a request,” she asked. Perfect. I loved when grownups asked me to do things, because then I could do them and be a good girl. I watched as she reached into her purse and pulled out a gun, which shone dangerously in the harsh ceiling light. “Wait! Miss Porter!” The other grownup stepped forward, but Miss Porter merely held a hand up, the one that wasn’t holding the gun. She turned to me and held the firearm in the palm of her hand, like it was a baby bird she’d picked up. “Take this gun, point it at yourself, and pull the trigger,” she said. Easy enough. It was like any other request. I picked the pistol up, feeling how cool the metal felt against my hand. Then, without a second thought, I put the barrel against the side of my head and pulled the trigger with a click that seemed to ring as loudly as any gunshot. Ai felt herself wrenched back into the real world. It took a bit to fully reorient herself, and when she did, she discovered that her cheeks were damp. She’d been crying. That feeling of complete disregard for her own safety—it was terrifying. Not because it was strong, or borne from self-hatred, or anything. Those, Ai had more experience with. She knew what it was like to dislike herself, to be something she hated. Even depression made sense to her. Some days, Ai woke up, and the world would be gray and indistinct, like her body would be in the room while her mind was elsewhere. But Bala hadn’t thought about herself. She hadn’t wanted to hurt herself. She hadn’t worried about any consequences. No, it was simply that her own self didn’t have a place in the world. A grownup had told her to do something, so she did it. It was as simple as that. She’d said it was Ai’s fault. Could that be possible? Ai couldn’t believe it. She stepped towards Bala instinctively to give the girl a hug, but instead Bala pressed her palms into Ai’s chest and pushed the girl away. Ai staggered back, crushing a mem underfoot before she regained her balance. “Bala, what’s wrong?” Ai asked. The girl’s eyes were fearful, as if she’d swallowed some sort of bitter truth. “Shut up,” Bala said, reaching for a cloudy cerulean mem. Ai watched as the girl picked the glass orb up and held it against her forehead. Bala focused, and the blue cloud pulsed before suddenly rushing straight into Bala’s forehead. Bala’s eyes unfocused as she relived the mem, then returned to consciousness with a stutter. It had been mere seconds, though each one had seemed to stretch like taffy. An instant later, Bala's eyes suddenly narrowed. Her face screamed suspicion, like an alarm bell had been tripped. She grabbed another mem, as if hoping to confirm some kind of hypothesis. Ai waited for her to unfocus, then darted over, hoping to put a mem, any mem, in her mind. The gas twisted in the air before suddenly darting towards Ai as I was returning to the nest with Mother, the rat clutched in my talons a symbol of my success. My brood siblings were going to hatch today, and Mother had allowed me the honor of feeding them their first meal. As the wind changed directions, I spotted the weathered oak tree and turned, cutting out of the updraft and gently descending. After all this time, I still had never taken the feeling of flying for granted. I made my way through the knotted, tangled branches that protected our nest from the weather when my blood turned to ice. Two slate-blue eggs were nestled together inside the nest, like the sky on a frosty winter’s night. My brood siblings. The third egg, though, was being pushed out over the lip by an ugly gray-feathered bird, the hapless avian embryo inside utterly unaware of its impending fate. The intruder turned, having heard the rustling of the branches as I’d entered, and despite all odds, I found myself growing even more furious. White hot rage filled me as spots danced in my vision. It was Ai. That bitch had ruined everything again. Ai felt herself ejected from the mem like a cannonball out of a musket. Her heart was hammering a furious beat in the gorge of her throat. That kind of unadulterated hatred felt so out of place. The diapered girl in front of Ai shouldn’t have been able to hold such a vile emotion. She turned to look at Bala, who was now glaring falchions into Ai. “So we’re here again,” she said contemptuously. “You’ve decided, once again, to be a bad girl and ruin everything.” Her hand gestured at the room. The wrecked mems seemed to be wordlessly taunting Ai. No matter what she pretended, some things had been destroyed, even if she'd had the best intentions. Ai couldn’t handle Bala’s baleful gaze. Her eyes instead watched the hypnotic patterns of the mems swirling around, which looped around and around like the contortions in her heart. “That can’t be true,” Ai said. She didn’t think she was the kind of person who would do something like that. “Weren’t you happy?” Bala asked, almost pleading. The erratic mood shifts were disorienting. “Weren’t you living a normal life? I tried not to single you out when I made this universe.” Bala’s voice rang hollow, like a forgotten melody from a broken music box. “I was,” Ai said. She wasn’t lying. “I didn’t want to think about you anymore,” Bala sighed. “We’ve done this so many fucking times. I thought maybe if I could just forget you even existed, forget all the bad things that happened, that we could just live our lives separately. I wouldn’t mind being the bigger person if it meant that I could be free from you,” she concluded, her mouth twisting into an ironic smile. Ai shook her head. “Being a bigger person doesn’t mean tossing out the past completely,” she protested. “Why not?” asked Bala, who had begun quietly crying. “What’s the point of it all if we don’t remember anything?” Ai challenged. “When we’re done, it’s not the events we hold onto, but the memories. No memories means no change means things may as well have never happened." “I don’t care about all that,” Bala said. “I just want everybody to be happy.” Ai frowned. “This isn’t the way to do it. I don’t know what exactly is happening, but it looks like I always do something that makes you upset. Expecting to be happy all the time isn’t possible.” “Think carefully about what you’re saying,” Bala warned, her voice dangerously soft, like a gauntlet encased in velvet. “You don't have to be in the next world.” Ai shook her head furiously. “If you could have gotten rid of me, you would have,” she said. Bala sighed. “Fuck you,” she said, answering the question indirectly. “You don’t have to do this,” Ai said, trying to stay reasonable. “I know how you feel. Like, really know. I’ve felt what you felt, thought what you thought. I can understand where you’re coming from, just like how, if I shared my mems with you, you could understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.” Bala just kept staring, a stony expression glued on her face. “I know I did some things that hurt you,” Ai pled. “But how can you expect me to stop if I don’t remember doing it? People can’t grow or change or learn if they can’t retain anything. You’re doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result.” “I don’t want to grow,” Bala said. “I want my happy ending. And this isn’t it.” “Wait—” Ai yelled. She reached a hand out to Bala, but as her fingers dangled in the air, the world ████████

Chapter Three “Okay,” Ai said, trying to piece together everything she knew so far. “So you made this place. You had mems that you didn’t want to lose, but you didn’t want to have those memories either.” “Uh huh,” Bala said. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here. I didn’t get the sense that I was expecting visitors.” “I got another one of your mems,” Ai said, hoping to see how this piece fit into the puzzle. “But this time, you were…tiny? There were people you called Amazons. You were child-sized? Or maybe you were normal sized and they were giants?” “That sounds nice,” Bala said wistfully. “I bet it’d help me at my job a lot.” “But you didn’t have any pet stuff,” Ai pressed. “Even just one of these mems was hard to fit into the big picture. But now we have two that don’t make any sense.” Bala grimaced and rubbed her temples with her fingers. “Maybe it’s not me,” she said. “Maybe these are just people who thought they were me.” Ai shook her head. “That still doesn’t explain the cat ears or the wacky sizes,” she said. “It’s almost like an alternate dimension.” “That sounds…kind of right,” Bala said. “Maybe I astral projected into alternate versions of myself? So these would be mems of what I’d seen?” It was definitely possible. Augurs worked by witnessing timelines close enough to reality to have predictive power. If Bala were an augur, then the mems would just be visions of far-fetched, improbable timelines. But too many variables didn’t add up. Augury was an extremely rare gift to begin with. And even if Bala were an augur, what would she have to gain from making and then discarding these mems? It didn’t even sound like she kept a meta-mem: a memory of an index that she could load into her brain and use as a reference point. And with all the secrecy, how did Ai find out who Bala was in the first place? “I think we have to keep going,” Ai said. Bala nodded. Ai picked a mem off of a shelf this time. “Here goes,” she said, as Juniper begged, her voice shaky. “Don’t make me do this. Anything but this.” The girl wore a bright blue party dress, which I thought really brought out the color of her eyes. Right now, they were sparkling cerulean seas, glistening with tears. I could see a pristine white diaper peeking out below, gently pushing her thighs apart. I wanted to tell her so many things. That everybody in the facility bargained, even if they swore they wouldn’t. That it had never changed anyone’s mind. That it truly only made it worse, made their powerlessness sink in even deeper. That it was what they wanted, all along—because the bigger the fall, the more innocence they could extract from you. But she wasn’t talking to me. Why would she? There was no reason for a human to talk to a Doll, unless you were giving it orders. You couldn't bargain with a Doll, but you could bargain with a Doll's Master. Right now, that was Chetna, a dark-skinned Suryadeshi who remembered all of her coworkers' children's names and never forgot a birthday. Technically, she was just borrowing me from the company that she worked for. When I was still alive, I'd signed a piece of parchment that bound my soul to servitude after my death in exchange for paying off my student loans. It was this contract that kept me tethered to the mortal realm. Until I paid off my debt, I would be bound to my artificial body, kept together by eldritch magitech. In other words, I was a Doll—nothing more than a piece of property. My Master laughed derisively. “You don’t have a choice,” she said, her voice full of syrupy sweet venom, like poisoned honey. Her scrubs were a serene light pink, soft and sweet like everything else in the bedroom. Chetna was vegetarian. She had two cats and a polar dog and volunteered at a food bank in the evenings. She was sweet to her coworkers and took good care of me. I liked her. She was a good Master. Not every Doll got to choose their Master. Juniper clutched her stomach as another spasm of pain hit her. Her forehead glistened with sweat. “There’s been a mistake,” she tried bargaining. I could hear her diaper rustle beneath her skirts as she paced around her room. Chetna and I stood by the door, keeping her caged. “Why can’t you be more like Bala here?” Chetna asked. She patted my head. Though I didn’t have skin or nerves, through the wonders of magitech, I could still feel her warm hand gently ruffling my artificial hair. Frissons of joy raced down my spine, spreading happy tingles in their wake. Chetna flipped up the hem of my maid outfit, revealing my puffy white diaper. “She wears her diapers without fussing,” she said. Warm pride blossomed in me like a spark lighting a fire as Chetna dug her fingers into my padding. The sound of crinkling plastic lit up the room like little fireworks exploding. If I’d still had a heart, it would have thumped along in time, but instead, my positronic core kept quietly humming. Juniper grunted as her knees buckled beneath her. She put a hand on the wall, right next to her diaper training chart, which was full of yellow frowny faces, and steadied herself. “She’s a Doll,” Juniper said, her voice strained. “She doesn’t have a choice.” I truly didn’t. Even my body was leased from a corporation. I was well and truly owned by another. On the outside, I almost looked human. But I wasn’t. Not anymore. “Neither do you.” Chetna crossed her arms. “She’s not the one who has to use them,” Juniper spat. “That’s where you’re different,” Chetna laughed. “She wears them because she’s a good girl who does what she’s told. You’re wearing diapers because you need them.” Juniper’s face was red with exertion. I saw a small sweat stain on the back of her pretty dress. I’d have to wash that out later. Everybody deserved soft, pretty clothes. Even brats like Juniper. “I—obviously—don’t—need—diapers,” Juniper grunted. “You don’t?” Chetna asked, eyes wide with mock surprise. “Then I bet you can show me what a big, clever girl you are by going potty right now.” I could see a vein bulge from Juniper’s neck from her clenching her jaw. The condescension was like strident nails across a chalkboard. “That’s what I want to do,” she said, trying to avoid being baited into “throwing a tantrum”, which had happened yesterday. “So use your diapers and show me how much control you have,” Chetna said reasonably. Another paroxysm of pain. It was seconds before Juniper could respond. “How does that make any sense?” she finally asked. “Little girls have accidents,” Chetna said, as if the logic should have been obvious. “But a big girl can go on purpose. So be quiet and go like a good girl, and I’ll treat you like a big girl. I'll promise not to put you in another diaper today."” There it was. Hope. The most dangerous of all emotions. It was a tiny sliver, a microscopic speck of dust, but it was what Juniper had. “Fine,” Juniper said, accepting what little she could get. She couldn’t rage against biology forever. She went to a corner, the one with a pile of stuffed animals, and squatted down, deliberately facing away from us. I knew that, despite everything, she would feel our eyes burning holes on her back. Even basic privacy for one of the most fundamental acts a human could do was no longer hers. The ersatz child grunted, finally letting go. There was an elegance to Chetna’s methods. She made it Juniper’s choice. She’d have to live knowing that she’d chose this, chose to be complicit in her treatment. But that was a problem for future Juniper. Current Juniper had her own set of problems. Chetna walked forward, giving me a brisk nod to let me know that I should tag along. We stood on either side of the girl, like bodyguards. Juniper squeezed her eyes shut. Biology warred with her base instincts and her body recoiled at the idea of voluntarily messing herself. Still, in the end, she was no match for the laws of nature. She groaned with a perverse pleasure as she pushed her mess out into her diapers. I knew from experience what Juniper must have been feeling. First, warmth from her bladder letting go. Then, further back, another feeling, strangely hot against her skin. The mess would press up against the diaper, keeping it snug against her as evidence for what she’d done. I saw tears form in Juniper’s eyes. She would be feeling an aching sense of relief, which would only make her shame all the stronger. Finally, when it was done, Juniper gingerly stood back up. I knew that she’d be feeling an unfamiliar weight in the seat of her diaper, but one she would grow ever more intimately acquainted with as time went on. This time, I could see her diaper sagging a bit between her thighs. Juniper wrinkled her nose with disgust. “Great job, Junebug!” said Chetna, clapping excitedly. If the smell bothered her, she didn’t show it. It was part of the normalization training. “Okay,” Juniper said shakily, “get me out of this.” “Why would I do that, sweetie?” Chetna asked. “I did what you wanted,” Juniper said, trying to keep her voice even. Chetna laughed. “And you did such a good job!” “So get me out of this thing,” Juniper said. “I promised that I wouldn’t put you into another diaper today,” said Chetna. “So I’ll change you tomorrow.” “You bitch,” she swore. “That’s not what I agreed to.” Chetna clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “First, your language, and second, not remembering the deal I made with you? Maybe you are just a little girl after all.” She turned to me and smiled. “Bala, give Juniper a spanking. I think twenty should suffice.” The Command rang through my body like a bell. As the reverberation slowed, I felt my control recede out of my limbs, like waves on a beach returning to the sea. Any adult could Command a Doll using its Name. After all, Names had power. But Juniper was no longer legally an adult. She could yell my name until her throat went hoarse, but it would be as effective as ordering the tides to cease. Juniper’s eyes widened with fear. I knew she could see the telltale dead-eyed look of a Doll in the thrall of a Command on my face. Her legs tensed before suddenly bursting into motion, like a gazelle on the run. I watched as my hand darted out and grabbed her upper arm. My artificial limbs dug into her skin, precisely enough to hold her in place, without breaking any bones. It would have been an impressive feat, if I had been in control. The girl tugged against me, but it was like trying to shove a building with her hands. One of her fists slammed into my chest, but it didn’t register to me as more than a light thump. The girl yelped in pain and gingerly held her hand up. I could see the beginnings of a bruise starting to form. I dragged her across the plush floor to the rocking chair. I sat down and threw her over my lap with one smooth motion. I was a passenger in my own body. It was freeing, to not have to think about what to do. I wished for the thousandth time that I could exist forever in this state of bliss. One of my arms pressed on Juniper’s back, holding her in place. My other arm carefully flipped her skirt up, exposing her thick diaper to the room. “Please,” she pled. But a Command was a Command. My arm suddenly spanked her with the explosive force of a firework. The thump echoed in the tiny room as Juniper yelped. I could feel how the impact pressed her mess into her. It must have been humiliating for her. She wasn’t an adult woman. She didn’t have rights or freedom. No, she was now mere capital, just one of the inputs to the hugely complicated eldritch entity we called a megacorporation. Some people hated it. But I didn't mind being a cog. I knew that I had my place. Juniper howled as I rained spanks onto her bottom. The thickness of the diaper didn’t do enough to ameliorate the force of my inhuman blows. Her dignity flowed out of her in torrents of tears, dripping down her cheeks and onto the floor. After twenty blows, I felt the magical force of the Command loosen. It was always disorienting to suddenly regain control. It was like stepping onto a still escalator—the lurch caught me off guard. Juniper sobbed in my lap, nothing more than a messy little girl. Finally, Chetna spoke, breaking the silence. “I didn’t hear any counting, young lady,” she said. “A big girl knows how to count. I think twenty more.” Juniper yelped with fear, but I held her firmly in place as Chetna leaned in. “Bala, give twenty more spanks. On the thighs, this time.” Another thump of magical power coursed through me. Juniper thrashed as best as she could, but I relaxed as my hand rose and realized that Ai was back in the real world. She blinked. She was in absolutely no mood to move. Ai had never been great at mindfulness. Her thoughts buzzed around constantly, refusing to settle. But all that powerlessness stemmed from fretting about things outside her control. According to the mem, it was in accepting your helplessness that truly set you free. In that mem, Bala had freedom from morality. From doing the right or wrong thing. The gulf between what she would normally do and what she was Commanded to do was a vast incomprehensible ocean. Being in Bala's body had felt rapturous. Ai wasn't religious, but she thought she understood a little better that feeling of fervent devotion. Each movement under that Command had felt divinely guided. Now Ai's body felt uncomfortably loose. She didn't have anything solid to grasp. What should she do? How should she hold her body? Her clothes scratched against her skin as she thought about breathing, which had been so automatic before. Now, every rise and fall of her chest caught her attention. Freedom was dangerous. Freedom was the option to be wrong. For a moment, Ai had tasted the dizzying liberty of subjugation, and she wanted more. Was it wrong? Dolls didn’t have any choices. They couldn’t be held culpable. They were instruments, just tools wielded by others. Dolls couldn’t be wrong. Dolls could just be. Bala looked at Ai, wide-eyed. Her face had gone pale. “I know why you’re here,” she said, pointing a shaky finger at me. “Why?” Ai asked. Bala spoke carefully, unsure of the implications. “I had your mem,” she said. “You were at home—I don’t know where—” “Concordium,” interrupted Ai, the memory of spotting the tops of the Twin Spires peak up over the horizon as the boat sailed on, towards the birthplace of Oathcraft, a long, long way from the dusty island that I had been born on leaping to her mind. Bala nodded. "You were walking home from work when a bard caught your ear. She was playing a song on the lute..." She closed her eyes and hummed a melody. The corner of Ai's mouth curled up into a smile. It was an old song, from the island. She hadn't heard it in years. Bala nodded. "The song made you happy, but also kind of sad," Bala continued. "You gave her ten...aurums, I think you called them. She burst into happy tears and started up another tune. You stayed and listened and danced, and when you finally left, she pressed a mem into your hand." The girl swallowed, catching her breath. “You raced home to see what it could be. When you absorbed it, you saw…” She trailed off. “What?” Ai asked, breathless with anticipation. Bala's mouth twisted into a strange expression. “Us meeting for the first time."

Chapter 14: Let It All Soak In I couldn’t fully blame my lack of sleep for how distracted I was from the standardized test I was taking. I suppressed yet another yawn as I tried to recall all the advice Grace had given me about multiple-choice tests. There was the obvious – when in doubt, choose “C.” Then, there were other pieces of advice, such as working to eliminate wrong answers to make it easier when I still needed to guess. On the geometry question I was staring at, I was fairly certain that “C” was incorrect, and I was skeptical of “D” as well. That’s what made the whole thing suck even more. If I just had more time to work things through on a sheet of paper, perhaps I’d arrive at the answer, but I had a little over a minute for each question, meaning I had to just mark an answer and move on to the next one or risk not completely finishing the test. I took hold of my pencil and filled in the “B” circle. At least I had narrowed that question down to having a fifty percent chance of getting it right. Nine months of learning all boiled down to two days of filling in circles for hours and hours on end. I hated that this was supposed to somehow serve as proof that I had managed to learn anything over the course of the school year. Then again, it wasn’t as though my performance throughout the rest of the school year could have been regarded as spectacular. If I had considered how tired the bedwetting was going to make me, I might have been able to exercise enough self-control to delay this experiment until after the school year had ended, but now I was stuck with the consequences of those decisions. Still, I should have been able to do better on the test. It was true that I was tired. It was also true that I had gotten significantly less sleep than normal since Friday evening. But it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Even on nights when I didn’t get that much sleep, I usually was capable of summoning the willpower to stay on task for the first couple hours of school. That wasn’t the case today. That’s because something else was on my mind. Something that challenged everything I had thought I had known about my pursuit of pull-ups over the past few years. Despite my best efforts, my thoughts kept attempting to drift back to that scene in bed earlier this morning when I had peed in my pajamas while lying down on the bed. I had finally succeeded in coaxing my body to allow my bladder to release in a more natural sleeping position. The result had been a rush of exhilarating physical sensations and emotions that had taken me completely by surprise, especially as that hadn’t been the case the two other times I had peed while kneeling over my sheets. There were a couple of things I knew were true about my interest in pull-ups. There was something about the overall presence and feeling of wearing a pull-up that I found comforting, from the way the sides hugged around my waist to the softness of the interior absorbent padding to the way the bulky padding fit between my legs. I could still recall the mesmerizing way the pull-up had crinkled as I had held it in my hands and slid it up my legs. It had brought a sense of calm and assurance that shouldn’t have been possible for just a change in undergarments. I had always assumed that I would wet a pull-up when I got a chance to wear one next. That was what one did when they wore a pull-up. I had no idea whether that was something I was going to enjoy, but I was desperate to discover what it felt like. With the way my wetting experiment had gone this morning, I felt it was safe to assume that this was something I was going to enjoy. What I had never expected was that I would now be desperately wanting to wet my pants again, not because doing so was part of a scheme to get my parents to purchase pull-ups for me, but because I enjoyed doing it in and of itself. I looked up at the clock near the doorway to the classroom. How long had I been staring blankly at the next question? Five minutes. I hurried through the new few questions, skimming them briefly before hastily filling in my first guess. Grace had told me a horror story about college prep tests where one would actually lose points if they got an answer wrong, meaning that guessing was risky business, as it was better for your grade to leave a question blank than to be incorrect. At least that wasn’t the case with this test. I took a deep breath. I was still on track to finish the test on time. Just had to stay focused, remind myself that I would have all summer to experiment with these new desires. There were only twenty minutes left before it would be time to break for lunch. I managed to get through three more questions before I once again succumbed to my daydreams, drawn in by other questions that I felt more strongly compelled to answer. There were so many things I wanted to know now. What would it feel like to wet my wants while I was standing, with the urine trickling down my legs and onto the floor? What about when sitting down on a chair, where it would cause my bottom to get soaked rather than my front? The best part of all was that I didn’t need any special undergarments to explore any of these newly desired experiences. But none of this meant that my longing for pull-ups was, in any way, lessened. I hadn’t thought that it would be possible for my desire for pull-ups to grow any more intense than it had already done in the past three years. But the revelation that I enjoyed peeing myself meant that there was even more to look forward to when I finally got the pull-ups. But in the meantime, I was eagerly looking forward to when I would be alone in bed this evening, and I was already working out ways I could circumvent my family’s attempts to limit my hydration. <><><> The worst part about the standardized tests was that they were done in long sections. They made us sit at our desks for seventy-minute test sections. That was far too long to be sitting on an uncomfortable wood desk. Angie and Emma weren’t even in the same room for me for the testing, not that it mattered, as we wouldn’t have had any chance to communicate, anyway. I joined my friends at a table in the cafeteria. Angie was already halfway through her lunch, and Emma had gotten a few bites into hers. “Took you long enough,” Angie said as I took a seat across the table from her. “I was done fifteen minutes early.” My face burned. I had used up every last second, filling in circles right up until the moment we were directed to immediately set our pencils down. I hadn’t done well at all. The worst of it was I’d left a handful of questions unanswered at the end. “What did your mom say about the sleepover?” Emma asked between bites of her ham and cheese sandwich. I had put off asking Mom about the sleepover. I had still been working on the best way to convince her that an all-nighter would not only be OK, but would be a good way to circumvent her concerns about bedwetting. I gave an excuse that, under most circumstances, would have been the honest truth. “Uh, I forgot.” Emma tilted her head back and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Maddy, do I need to like text you a reminder to make sure you do it?” <><><> The copy of Reader’s Digest was still on the entryway table when I got home from school. Mom probably hadn’t had time yet to take a look at it before she went off to work. I left it untouched. I’d just have to wait for her to read it after dinner. Grace was already home. Mom and Dad still didn’t allow me to have the house to myself for more than five to ten minutes at a time. That had been different with Grace. By the time she was turning thirteen, they had not only entrusted her to stay alone by herself, but they had allowed her to be home with Jackson and me. I, on the other hand, apparently still required constant supervision. It would likely be another year or two before they finally moved on from that time when I had accidentally left the stovetop burners on. I had the next few evenings planned out for if, when, and how I was going to continue the bedwetting. Tonight, Wednesday night, I was going to wet the bed for real again, but do it in the middle of the night, rather than early in the morning. On Thursday, I would give the bedwetting a break, figuring that the occasional dry night would make the rest of the wet nights appear more natural. On Friday night, or really Saturday morning, I would again wet the bed for real once I woke up in the morning. Tonight was the trickiest, with all of my family members save Jackson paying close attention to my hydration and bathroom habits. My phone buzzed. Emma had just texted me a reminder to ask Mom about the sleepover. I texted back to inform her that Mom was at work and that I would be asking her after dinner. I headed off to the restroom at the urging of my bladder. I tugged down my pants to the disappointing sight of my underwear. Using the toilet had never felt so completely unsatisfying as it did right now. If only I could be going potty in my pants instead. As I sat on the toilet, I tried to make sense of why this new desire had appeared. I’d struggled throughout the day to understand the why of what had happened earlier. Was this tied to my desire to wear the pull-up again? Was it something altogether different, a new spark? <><><> Mom made me wait thirty minutes after dinner before she finally picked up the Reader’s Digest magazine. I hadn’t been able to witness the moment of truth, so I was left to guess whether the pull-up ad had caught her gaze when she had first grabbed the magazine. She looked up from the magazine as I walked into the living room. “Can I ask you a question?” “Sure, what do you need?” “My friends were wanting to do a sleepover for my birthday party.” “Maddy,” Mom said. “Are we really sure that is a good idea right now?” At least Mom had the courtesy not to mention bedwetting, as Jackson was still in the room. “They suggested that we could pull an all-nighter. So, that way there won’t be any issues since I won’t be falling asleep until we leave.” Mom frowned. “I’m going to need to talk with your father about that.” That wasn’t usually a promising sign, as Mom tended to be more lenient than Dad when it came to giving me permission to do new things. However, the fact that I hadn’t gotten an outright no was at least encouraging. My biggest problem would be trying to explain to my friends why I suddenly wasn’t allowed to have sleepovers anymore if my parents were to reject the all-nighter plan and not offer pull-ups as a solution. I texted Emma to let her know that I had asked Mom and that I hadn’t gotten an immediate decision. Now, it was time to put my plan to get hydrated for tonight into motion. I went upstairs to my bedroom and scoured through my closet, digging through boxes of old soccer equipment until I came across exactly what I was looking for. It was a water bottle I had been given at a camp a year or two back, one of the annoying ones with one of those spouts that almost made it feel as though I was drinking out of a toddler sippy cup. With the rest of my soccer cups in the cupboard downstairs – Mom had insisted they be thoroughly washed with the soccer season over – this was the perfect find, as no one would have a clue that I was using it. I waited until Gace had started her evening task of washing dishes. Yes, I could have done this while she was secluded in her bedroom, but I wasn’t going to take the slight risk of her coming out at an inopportune time and catching me in the process of filling up the bottle. It was a twenty-four-ounce bottle. More than enough to get sufficiently hydrated to allow me to easily pee. A few minutes later, it was full of yucky tap water from the upstairs bedroom, but it wouldn’t make any difference. My body would work to convert it to urine just the same as if it had been fancy filtered water. In the end, it all came out the same way. <><><> I squirmed underneath the covers as the clock moved ever closer to midnight. This was partly due to the physical need to urinate. I had downed the whole water bottle in the hour before I had gotten ready for bed. But it was also in anticipation of what I was about to do. In my head, I kept replaying the moment I had wet the bed last night. Thirty minutes to midnight. The sounds now coming from the bedroom told me that Mom and Dad were in the final stages of getting ready for bed. They always fell asleep quickly. There wasn’t any reason I couldn’t wet myself now rather than wait until midnight. It wasn’t as though I was going to want to get up and get cleaned up right away. I wanted time to savor the moment I had been looking forward to all day long, let it all soak in. I made a short and futile attempt to pee while lying on my back, but that was completely hopeless. It didn’t even feel as though I’d come close to getting my bladder to release. That changed when I rolled over to my stomach, the mattress loudly protesting beneath me as I did so. I didn’t bother with any more experimentation. I knew now what worked, so I followed the same exact routine. I slid my hands under my chest, raising myself up ever so slightly off of the mattress. My bladder emptied at the slightest urging. I dropped down onto the mattress the moment I began to pee. The urine was streaming out of me so fast I could hear the sound of it as it came out. I hadn’t noticed how I’d been holding my breath. I breathed out slowly as my bladder emptied. The expectations that had built up throughout the course of the day were more than exceeded. This was even better than last night, as the amount of water I had chugged before going to bed meant that I peed a lot longer. My sheets were soaked all the way past my knees. The mental exhilaration of peeing myself like an actual bedwetter combined with the physical sensation of the intense warmth from the urine left me in a state of euphoria. There was no sense of shame or embarrassment. It felt so good. It couldn’t possibly be wrong. My only regret was that it had taken me three years to realize that this was an option. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

Chapter 12: A New Solution I woke up with a bunch of fur in my face. I let out a loud sneeze as I shoved our orange cat off of me. Chester trotted halfway to my now open bedroom door – he must have snuck in while I was sleeping – and then looked back and made a chirpy meow at me. Yes, yes, I get it, cat. You’re hungry. There was no choice but to get up and feed him. Not unless I wanted him bothering me until it was time to get up and get ready for school. My digital clock still said there was an hour-and-a-half left until it was time to get up for the day. I could probably even squeeze in another ten minute of sleep if I waited until Mom came to wake me up. I looked down at my pajamas as I got out of the sleeping bag. There was a clear and obvious problem. These were the same ones I had worn to bed last night. I had forgotten to toss them in the laundry with my bedding last night. I took a deep breath. That was a close call. If Mom had caught me in these pajamas, it would have raised questions I’d be unable to provide a satisfactory answer for. I changed into a new pair of pajamas and headed downstairs with my old ones. There wasn’t a need for the flashlight app on my phone as the first rays of sunlight were coming through the windows. I walked as quietly as I could. Chester trotted alongside me, chirping noisily. At least I’d have a good excuse for being up if anyone was awake when I was returning to my bedroom. I filled up Chester’s food and water bowls in the laundry room. They hadn’t even been fully empty. The stupid cat couldn’t be satisfied with eating out of a bowl that was only half-way full. Now I needed to deal with my pajamas. I turned on the faucet in the sink next to the washing machine and held my pajamas under the water until they were soaked. I twisted them in my hands to wring out all the excess water and then stuffed the pajamas in with the still very damp bedding in the washing machine. There, now, when Mom moved the laundry over to the dryer, nothing would seem out of place. <><><> A yawn escaped me at the start of math class. Mr. Thompson was going around handing back our final homework assignment of the year before we got started on our final exam. It had taken me about an hour to fall back to sleep after putting my pajamas in the washing machine. At that point, I’d only gotten another thirty minutes of sleep before Mom woke me up for school. From the look on her face, this most recent fake bedwetting incident had completely caught her by surprise. I suppose she had thought all the preventative measures she’d made me take would have been enough to bring the bedwetting to an end. Mom had taken care of vacuuming up the baking soda on the mattress and moving the laundry from the washing machine to the dryer. As far as I was able to tell, she hadn’t caught on to the fact that I had faked the bedwetting accident simply by tossing my bedding and pajamas in the washing machine. Mr. Thompson handed the algebra homework paper to me as he passed by my desk. I stared at it in disbelief. The letter “C” was circled in red at the top right corner. I skimmed through the questions. Several of them had been marked as incorrect with red dashes through them. That was a complete betrayal. It was totally unfair. I had held up to my end of the bargain in keeping Grace’s secret, and she hadn’t even bothered to deliver me a good grade. There was no way these questions had been too difficult for my older sister. I tucked the assignment angrily into my backpack. I was going to have a word with Grace after school. The next set of papers our teacher handed out was even less fun than the first. Our final exam for the math class was fifty questions long and would account for twenty-five percent of the grade for the year. It was hard enough to do math when I was fully awake, but I was exhausted from the lack of sleep over the past several days. All the numbers and symbols seemed to dance around in front of me as I tried to work my way through each question. It didn’t help that I’d already had to sit through five different tests today, with each one seeming to go worse than the one preceding it. It was no use. I gave up about halfway through, beginning to fill in the little multiple-choice circles with my pencils with my best guess after reading through the question once. At least if I finished earlier, I could find somewhere to sit and rest outside in the hallway. <><><> I struggled to pretend that the way my parents were limiting my liquids didn’t annoy me. But it wasn’t fair. Mom had made fresh-squeezed lemonade to go with our dinner of hotdogs fresh off of the backyard grill, and I had been given a much smaller portion of lemonade than I would have preferred. Even Jackson had as much as me, and Mom was as careful with monitoring his sugar intake as she had been when I was his age. But the amount I had to drink tonight was irrelevant. I intended to instead wet the bed closer to when I was about to get up in the morning, so long as I could figure out a way to be awake at least a decent time before needing to get up for school. No amount of restrictions on how much I was allowed to drink would change the fact that I would need to pee when I woke up in the morning. I wasn’t sure of all the specifics of the plan. I would simply need to improvise when the time came. I watched as Grace quickly finished her meal, excusing herself from the table and heading off toward her bedroom. I hadn’t managed to corner her yet. She still owed me an explanation for the poor grade she had gotten me on the Algebra homework. I finished my hotdog in a large final bite and washed it down with the remainder of my pitiful serving of lemonade. It was time to confront my sister. I retrieved the mangled homework paper from my backpack in my bedroom, straightening it out before walking up to my sister’s bedroom door. I knocked on Grace’s door. No response. I knocked again, a bit louder. “I’m coming,” Grace said. “Yes, I know I need to still do the dishes.” A few seconds later, her bedroom door cracked open a few inches. “Oh, it’s you?” Grace said. “I’m busy.” I shoved the homework paper in her face before she could shut the door on me. Grace nudged it aside with her hand. “What are you so upset about?” Grace asked nonchalantly. “I got a ‘C’ on the assignment. You were supposed to help me get all the questions correct.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Let me let you in on a secret of cheating on homework. Never get a score that would make your teacher suspicious. If you had turned in an assignment that had every single answer correct, that would raise a lot of questions. I doubt you’ve gotten an ‘A’ on any assignment in the class this year, and to do so on an especially difficult one would make it look really obvious that you didn’t do the work yourself.” “Oh.” I hadn’t considered that at all. “If I hadn’t helped, you probably would have gotten a zero on it,” Grace said. “So, you still came out well ahead. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.” Grace stepped back and shut the door in my face. I was left to wonder how she was so knowledgeable about cheating on homework. <><><> “Maddy, your dad and I need to talk with you about something.” I could feel my heart begin to speed up. That phrase was never the harbinger of good news. I looked up at Mom from where I was sitting on the couch with my phone. She was standing near the entrance to the living room. There was a serious look on her face, but it differed from the more annoyed expression that she wore when I was in trouble for something. Jackson was oblivious to Mom’s request. He was sprawled out on the carpet in front of the couch, playing Minecraft on a tablet. Thankfully, Grace was nowhere to be seen. She was secluded upstairs again in her bedroom after having come down briefly to wash dishes in the kitchen. What could I have possibly done wrong? The list of options was longer than I would have liked. It had to be something more than just forgetting my chores. I would just be sent off to do them right away if that were the case. The one thing that didn’t worry me was my end-of-year grades. They weren’t looking to be that good, but Mom and Dad wouldn’t be getting hold of them for at least a week or more. That could be dealt with later. But there was the Algebra quiz. Had Mr. Thompson decided something was off after all and told my parents about it? Or had one of my friends blabbed about how Grace had left us on our own at the mall? Either of those would have me spending a sizable amount of time grounded at the start of summer break. But as bad as either of those two outcomes might be, there were even worse possibilities to consider. What if they’d caught on to how I had been faking the bedwetting? If they questioned me about whether it was real, would I be able to lie effectively, or would I crumble under the pressure of that interrogation? “Maddy, come on,” Mom said, giving her head a slight shake in the direction of the hallway. I stepped carefully over my brother as I walked in a straight line toward the hallway. Regardless of what I was going to be disciplined for, I had a pretty good idea of how it was going to go down. Unlike either of my friends, I had never been on the receiving end of a spanking. That didn’t mean that my parents’ disciplinary methods were ever enjoyable. In fact, there were a number of times when I think I would have rather endured a spanking than be forced to be grounded from electronics for a week. As I followed Mom down the hallway, I was mentally bracing myself for the long lecture I was about to get, followed by being grounded from whatever my parents thought would best convince me to behave better in the future. There wasn’t a specific location in the house where these conversations normally took place; it was always somewhere away from my siblings, so they couldn’t eavesdrop on the conversation. I followed Mom to the entrance room, where Dad was already sitting on the right side of a small couch. Dad patted the middle of the couch. “Why don’t you have a seat, Maddy.” That was different from normal. Aside from the fact that these lectures usually began before being given a chance to sit down, there was the realization that neither of my parents had used my full name. That made me even more confused. So, I wasn’t in trouble? I took a seat next to Dad, and then Mom squeezed in beside me to my left. There was barely enough room for us on the couch, which was probably only meant for two occupants. I kept my mouth shut. Better to wait and see what exactly my parents were up to than guess and be wrong. “We need to have a talk about what’s been happening at night,” Mom said. “About how we’re going to need to handle the bedwetting.” There it was. I tried to get myself into the right mindset for this conversation. I had to talk as though the bedwetting was surprising and upsetting, that I wanted nothing more than for it to come to an end. And, if possible, I needed to find a way to discreetly steer the conversation toward the possibility of getting pull-ups without revealing how badly I wanted those specific undergarments. “It is kind of our fault, in a way,” Dad said. “And mine,” Mom added. I looked back and forth between my parents. How in the world could it be their fault that I was wetting the bed? “I read that if both parents had a history of wetting the bed as kids, then it meant their own kids have a three-in-four chance of being bedwetters themselves,” Dad explained. Fractions always gave me a hard time. I tried to picture it in my head the way that my elementary math teacher had explained long ago. Leave it to Dad to turn bedwetting into a math problem. “What that means,” Mom said, “is that since your father and I both were bedwetters when we were kids, that means that it was very likely that our own kids would have issues with that as well. We thought we’d dodged a bullet with you and Jackson, but I guess not.” Wait. What? I conjured images of Mom and Dad as kids, drawing on old family photo albums I had gone through before. The idea of either of them waking up in the middle of the night to wet sheets was too much. I started to laugh. “No way.” I looked back and forth at Mom and Dad again. Sitting sandwiched between them was making this conversation more difficult than necessary. “For real?” “I think I wet the bed nearly every night until I was nine or so,” Mom said. “I remember I wasn’t allowed to go on any sleepovers until I stopped. It lasted a bit longer for you, honey?” “Yes,” Dad muttered. I’d never seen him look so flustered. “Bedwetting didn’t stop for me until I turned fourteen. My siblings weren’t as, um, understanding about it as they should have been.” “The point we’re trying to say, Maddy,” Mom said, “is that bedwetting isn’t a big deal. It isn’t your fault or anything you need to be embarrassed about. It’s something that lots of other kids have to deal with. I don’t think this bedwetting phase should last all that long, but we’ll be with you to help you get through it, no matter how long it takes.” “And if you have any questions or anything you want to tell us,” Dad said. “I promise we won’t judge you for it. We went through the same things as you.” If only I was bold enough to take Dad up on that offer. There was a question I wanted to ask really badly. Had either of my parents worn diapers or pull-ups to bed? Had there even bed ones available in their size that long ago? But I had to work to hold myself back from asking about it. No kid my age was going to proactively seek out information about diapers. I had to remember that I was supposed to be feeling embarrassed and concerned about the situation. “I just don’t get why it started all of a sudden.” “I don’t know either,” Mom said. “We’ll worry about that if it keeps up. For now, I think we’re just going to focus on making things a bit easier to clean up if the bedwetting happens again. We are going to need to do something to make sure that your mattress doesn’t get ruined. Cleaning it up afterward is OK for the occasional accident, but not if you are peeing on it almost every night.” I focused all my thoughts on keeping a straight face. This was it. This was when they would tell me that they had purchased the pull-ups so that the mattress wouldn’t be getting wet every night. I could hardly believe my luck. I would be getting pull-ups after wetting the bed only three times in four days. “We’re going to switch your mattress for the one that Grace has on her bed,” Dad said. “It has a waterproof covering, which makes it a lot easier to clean up after bedwetting accidents.” That was not what I wanted. There was no hiding the look of disappointment on my face. But it improved my subterfuge, as Mom and Dad took it to be a sign that I was embarrassed by needing a special mattress. Mom began to rub my back. “I’m sure this bedwetting phase will run its course quickly enough, but until then, won’t it be a lot nice to not have to worry about cleaning the mattress in the middle of the night? You could swap the bedding out and go back to sleeping in bed rather than on the floor in a sleeping bag.” “I guess.” Mom had a solid point. It would be nice not to have to spray cleaning solutions and then dry off the mattress with paper towels and sprinkle baking soda all over it. Faking the bedwetting would take a lot less work on my part. “We better get that done before it’s time for bed. Why don’t we get that taken care of now?” Dad said. I followed my parents up the stairs and to my bedroom. My room was a bit of a mess. I had some dirty clothes tossed on the floor that should have been put in the laundry hamper, there was a pile of unfolded laundry on my bed that I had been supposed to get put away before dinner, and then there was the fact that I hadn’t made the bed either like I was supposed to. I had just tossed the clean sheets and covers haphazardly across the mattress. Mom examined the scene with a sigh. “We’ll talk about the state of your bedroom later. Why don’t you get everything off of the mattress and set it to the side while we talk with your sister about the mattress swap?” They left me to it, shutting the door behind them as they walked over to my sister’s bedroom. I picked up the dirty laundry and tossed it into the hamper in the closet, then went to tackle the mess that was my bed. After tossing everything unceremoniously on the floor, I heard some raised voices from out in the hallway. I tiptoed over to my door and placed my ear right up against it. “You’ve been asking for a new mattress for a long time,” Dad said. “Yeah, and you always told me that you weren’t quite ready to trust me with one yet,” Grace said. Did that mean what I thought it meant? Grace had supposedly stopped wetting the bed when she was twelve. “Seriously, it was only like once or twice a year at that point. Besides, it hasn’t happened for like two years now.” That probably wasn’t without any close calls, though. The time Grace had caught me in the hallway a few nights ago, she had been in quite the hurry to go use the toilet herself. “Exactly,” Mom said. “So now is the perfect time to do the swap because of how your sister has been wetting the bed a lot the past few days.” “That’s gross, Mom. I don’t want Maddy’s mattress. Not after she’s peed all over it.” “Hey,” Mom said. “It got cleaned up right away each time. There aren’t any visible stains, and it doesn’t even smell funny at all. Besides, it’s not like the mattress you are giving her hasn’t been peed on several hundred times.” “Yeah, but it has a plastic cover. It cleans off without a trace.” “Look, we’re doing the mattress swap. I’m sure Maddy will be done with the bedwetting soon. When that happens. She’ll have her old mattress back, and we’ll buy a new one for you.” “Ugh, fine,” Grace said. “I’ll get the sheets off.” I heard my sister’s bedroom door shut rather loudly. I retreated to standing back near my bed lest my parents returned to my bedroom to catch me eavesdropping. Mom opened my bedroom door a few seconds later. “Are you all set, Maddy?” “Yeah.” “Good; why don’t you help me get your mattress off of the bed frame?” The mattress wasn’t as heavy as I had expected it to be, but it was still a bit of work to lift it up and set it against the wall. Dad and Grace entered the bedroom a minute later, carrying a strange mattress. It wasn’t a normal looking white mattress, like mine, and it also didn’t have a fabric exterior. It instead had a light blue vinyl exterior. It looked more like something that would be seen in a hospital than a bedroom. The new mattress fit onto the bedframe perfectly, which was the benefit of us both having queen-sized beds. From how Grace was looking at my mattress, I could tell that she was trying to determine if there were any visible urine stains on it. I didn’t know why Grace had thrown such a fuss in the hallway. It seemed that she was getting the better deal out of this. She finally had a normal, comfortable mattress to sleep on. “Well, that’s set,” Mom said. “Why don’t you get your bed made, Maddy, we’ll leave you to it.” Dad and Grace grabbed my mattress while Mom went ahead and held the door open all the way so they could maneuver it out into the hallway and toward Grace’s bedroom. Mom shut the door behind her, leaving me by myself. Once all the sheets and covers were back on, my bed didn’t look any different. At first glance, there wouldn’t be any way to tell that something was off. The changed the moment I laid down on it, as it crinkled loudly, reminiscent of that time three years ago when I had snooped through my sister’s bedroom. Even shifting my weight ever so slightly caused more plastic crinkling sounds. There was no question that it was a downgrade from my other mattress. It likely was going to take a while to get used to sleeping in it. Still, it couldn’t be argued that this was going to beat sleeping on the floor. I tried to lie as still as I could, just to get a moment of silence. It wasn’t the pull-ups I had been hoping for. It was progress. Mom and Dad were now taking the bedwetting seriously, but was it progress in the right direction? Had this been their sole solution for my sister’s bedwetting? What if they had never once purchased pull-ups for her? What if my parents didn’t care that my sheets and bedding got soaked with urine every night so long as the mattress was protected? Could that be the reason I had never noticed Grace wearing a pull-up before bed? Was this why I hadn’t been able to find any evidence of pull-ups since that time I had searched her bedroom? Had my parents deliberately decided not to get her pull-ups, or perhaps had they not even realized that it was an option? My sister had been potty trained around the same age as me, meaning she would have been about two when she was dry during the day. She didn’t stop regularly wetting the bed until she was twelve. Had she really gone through ten straight years of waking up to wet pajamas every night? Ten straight years of needing to change sheets and bedding in the dark, first with her parents’ help and then on her own? That sounded absolutely awful. And that still left the question about what had happened on that vacation to my grandparents’ place six years ago. Grace had wet the bed that first night. And there had been no further evidence of accidents after that. Had six-year-old me simply not been all that observant? Or had something else been going on at the time? I hadn’t even considered the possibility of different types of mattresses. I realized that there was still a lot about bedwetting that I didn’t know. I checked my phone. It was about time to get ready for bed again. I went to brush my teeth and use the toilet. There was nothing to do but keep pressing forward with my plan. My parents still seemed to think that the bedwetting would end soon. Perhaps if it didn’t, they might start to look at solutions other than the waterproof mattress. I set the alarm on my phone for forty-five minutes before I was supposed to be up for school. It wouldn’t do any good to have it wake anyone else in the house. But I had the perfect solution in mind. As I laid back down on my now super crinkly bed, I plugged a pair of headphones into my phone. I tucked one of them into my right ear, making sure to lay down in a way that wouldn’t cause me to dislodge the headphones while I was asleep. I would pee in the bed when I woke up early and allow Mom to discover me sleeping in a wet bed when she came to get me up for school. I needed to make the bedwetting as inconvenient as possible. I had to get to a point where my parents would realize that pull-ups would make managing it so much easier. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

Chapter 11: My Sister’s Room Three years earlier I had never liked road trips. That much time spent cramped in a tiny space was too much. My body would tell me that I needed to move, and then I couldn’t. But what made the drive home from the funeral take even longer was this new idea that I had become obsessed with. I needed more than anything to wear a pull-up again. All I could think of as the miles passed by were schemes about how I could manage to get my hands on one. “Mommy, I need to pee.” Ahead of me in the front row, my three-year-old brother was squirming desperately in his car seat. Grace and I had retreated to the back row of the van for the return journey home, mostly to give us some space from our annoying younger brother. “Mommy,” Jackson whined again, his voice reaching a painfully high pitch. Grace and I exchanged a glance. This scene with my brother had been a frequent occurrence on this road trip. “The next rest stop is in five miles,” Mom replied. As if that made any sense to a three-year-old. How was Jackson supposed to know how long that was going to take? “But Mommy,” he whined as the squirming continued. It was hard to know how serious of an alert it was from him. Despite all the whining for potty breaks on this road trip, my younger brother hadn’t wet his pants at all. He had been potty trained for a little over a year now. Mom and Dad had gotten to work on it right away after his second birthday. My parents had tossed out all of Jackson’s diapers and made him run around naked outside for a couple of days that summer. I didn’t understand how that was supposed to help with toilet training, but it had worked, even if the process had grossed out Grace and me a bit. That Jackson was fully potty trained was unfortunate. If Jackson hadn’t been potty trained yet, or had perhaps been a bedwetter like his cousins, that would have been another potential source of pull-ups. I couldn’t recall what methods my parents had used to potty train me. But I hoped that was not how it had gone. “Should have made him wear a pull-up for the trip,” Grace muttered softly next to me, making sure her voice wasn’t loud enough for Jackson to notice. Wouldn’t that have been nice? That would have solved my issue of getting a pullup. I tried my best to ignore my brother’s whining for the next five minutes. Having a now-potty-trained three-year-old on a road trip at least meant that we were making a bunch of stops. I’d get a chance to run around at the next rest area. Perhaps it would even have a half-way-decent playground to explore. Like previously, we made it to the rest area without Jackson wetting his pants. As soon as Dad shifted the gear into park, Mom hurried to get Jackson unbuckled and out of his car seat. The rest of us followed behind at a much more leisurely pace as Dad then took Jackson off to the men’s restroom. Mom would insist that Grace and I make a stop at the restroom as well, even if I protested that I didn’t need to go at all. I did manage to pee a little, but only just a little, before heading out behind the rest stop building to check out the playground. The play area was a bit sad, designed more for toddlers than kids my age. The top of the lone slide was only slightly taller than me. The only good thing was that it had a two-person swing set. I pushed off to get myself started as my thoughts drifted back to my plans to acquire a pull-up. Even though Mom and Dad had previously assured me that Grace’s bedwetting days were long past over – otherwise, I don’t think I previously would have agreed to share a bed with her at a hotel – I had nevertheless attempted to ascertain whether she was perhaps secretly wearing pull-ups under her pajamas. I hadn’t dared try to check while she was asleep, but when we were getting out of bed, I laid on my side to watch my fifteen-year-old sister slide off of the mattress onto the floor. The brief glimpse under her short nightgown told me that she was wearing regular, big-girl underwear. A disappointing result, but not all that surprising. The question that lingered the most in the back of my head was whether my sister had worn pull-ups during her years as a bedwetter. Grace obviously hadn’t been wearing a pull-up that night. I had stumbled across the aftermath of her wetting the bed. But I couldn’t take that as proof that she had never worn a pull-up before. Could Mom’s annoyance at her that night have been because she hadn’t been wearing one when she should have been? “You want me to give you a push?” Grace asked as she joined me out on the playground. “Sure.” She took hold of me and pulled me back super far. I hung on for dear life as I swung forward, my back nearly parallel to the ground. Grace took a seat on the swing next to me and pushed herself off as well, though she didn’t go quite as high in the air as me. Mom tended to hang on to all of our old clothes. In the back and upper shelves of the two closets in my bedroom were boxes and stacks of old clothing. Perhaps Mom had been saving them for if Jackson had turned out to be a girl, and she had never had the time to toss them out afterward. Or perhaps there was still the possibility of another baby joining the family. There were a number of options I had thought about for getting a pull-up. But one of them stood out above all the rest. I was going to search my sister’s bedroom at the next possible opportunity. <><><> A couple of weeks passed before the perfect opportunity came up. It was Friday evening in the summer, and Grace was having a sleepover with some of her friends. Normally, that would have been a perfect opportunity to have Angie and Emma over, but their families had other plans this weekend, so I was left all to myself. Usually, that would have sucked. But this night, I planned to make the most of the opportunity. My parents had hurried me off to bed a little earlier than normal. There was a TV show they wanted to watch, and apparently, I wasn’t old enough to be allowed to watch it yet. I had gone through all the motions of getting ready for bed except brushing my teeth. I didn’t like brushing my teeth. And tonight, Mom and Dad were too busy with their show to check on me as I hurriedly got ready for bed. Now, I was in my pajamas, standing at the end of the hallway in front of Grace’s bedroom door. Jackson was sound asleep. My parents’ TV show had begun a few minutes ago; I had crept halfway down the stairs to make sure I could hear it playing in the distance. Grace was out of the house. There would be no one to bother me as I explored my older sister’s bedroom. Grace didn’t have the stereotypical “keep out” sign on her door. But it wasn’t necessary. Her room had always been off limits to me and Jackson. In fairness, the same rule applied to Grace for my bedroom, not that my older sister had any interest in entering it. I reached my hand out tentatively to touch the handle, turning the doorknob and pushing in the door. I took two cautious steps into her bedroom and shut the door behind me. I was standing on forbidden ground. Our bedrooms couldn’t be more unalike. Grace had posters of bands and other artwork on the walls. In the corner was a fancy desktop computer, the kind with a glass side that lets you see all the components. If Grace had worn pull-ups, and they hadn’t been thrown away, where would they be? I opened each of her dresser drawers, sifting through them carefully. No pull-ups, only regular underwear. But that made sense; the pull-ups wouldn’t have stayed in the dresser. Why would she want to see a reminder of her bedwetting every time she went to get dressed? If the pull-ups were in her bedroom, they would be where Mom had tucked away the rest of my sister’s old things. I slid open one of the closet doors. There were a bunch of boxes on the top shelf, but they were completely out of reach for me. I grabbed the chair in front of Grace’s computer desk and dragged it over to the closet. Even standing up on it barely allowed me to reach up and touch the boxes on the top shelf. I pulled a cardboard box down and set it on Grace’s bed. I didn’t find any pull-ups inside the box once I undid the cardboard flaps on top. But I did get a glimpse of some of the hand-me-downs that might be coming my way in a couple of years. There were a bunch of old shirts and sweaters in the box that I remembered my sister wearing a couple of years ago. That meant they would be mine – if I wanted them – in a couple of years. Every year or so, Mom would bring some of Grace’s old clothes to my bedroom and have me sort through which ones I wanted to have for myself. Mom didn’t make me keep anything I didn’t like, which was a relief, as our styles could be quite different at times. But there were no pull-ups in this box. But that was OK. There were still six more boxes to check in this closet and then a whole other closet to look through afterward. I checked the time on the digital clock next to my sister’s bed. I still had another thirty minutes to go before I needed to be back in bed, in case my parents came upstairs immediately after their show was over. The searches of the next five boxes proved to be as fruitless as the first. Not a single pull-up in sight. I returned all the boxes to the closet. Time to check the next one. Another ten minutes passed by, and my disappointment grew as the mundane contents of each box were revealed. That was followed by a cursory search of my sister’s nightstand drawers and some drawers at her desk, but that, too, was fruitless. It wasn’t fair. I had gotten my hopes up so much over the last few weeks. I was so sure that I’d find some pull-ups. I was so eager to see what the girl’s version of them would look like. There was, of course, always the chance to search my brother’s bedroom as well. But, to the best of my knowledge, my parents had never once bought pull-ups for him. He had gone straight from diapers to superhero-themed underwear. Fitting into his pull-ups might have been a stretch. I couldn’t imagine a baby diaper fitting me. But I would still try to find a way to search his bedroom at some point, even if it was a disappointing plan “B.” With my plan defeated, I walked over to Grace’s queen-sized bed. I still had another ten minutes to spare before I needed to be out of her room. I sat down on Grace’s bed next to a few of the boxes I hadn’t yet put back onto the closet shelves. My bottom didn’t sink into the mattress like it did when I sat down in my own bed, and the motion of sitting on the bed was accompanied by some loud crinkles. That was really strange. I patted my hand firmly on the sheets. Definitely firmer than my own bed. And it was still making that weird crinkling sound. I laid back on the bed. Not comfortable at all. How did my sister manage to fall asleep on this every night? I got up from the uncomfortable bed. I wouldn’t have wanted to lie down on it for any longer than necessary. I admitted defeat in my search for pull-ups. May as well get back to my bedroom early. I nearly dropped the last box as I put it back into place on the closet shelf. After doing one last check to make sure I had put everything back into place, I left Grace’s bedroom and headed to my own bed, sad that I hadn’t found any pull-ups, but happy that I had a much nicer mattress to sleep on than my sister. I was going to have to get used to disappointment. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

Like so many other here, I have been interested in diapers for as long as I can remember. The trigger that got me wearing them as an adult was discovering that other people liked diapers too. I will never forget that moment. I saw a reference to diaper fetishes on the internet. I wasn’t searching for it; I just happened to see a list of chat rooms, and one of them was a chat room for diaper lovers. I was totally amazed to discover that other people liked diapers, and from that moment became obsessed with the idea of wearing them. I often wonder if I would have worn diapers if I hadn’t known there were others into it too. I think the answer is probably not. I would have suppressed the desire.

Literally wanted to take this chapter one way, then took it a different way, then rewrote the ending what it is now, which is where I wanted to go in the first place. Amazing, how so few words can entirely change not just the events but the tenor and meaning and direction of the nearly 56,000 that came before them. __________________________________________ Chapter 13, Part 2 Jamie knew this would happen eventually; he just hadn’t thought much about what to say, nor was he sure what about a regressed Little made him so uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the notion that a regressed and unregressed Little were essentially on the same playing field in terms of how they were viewed by Bigs, or could be viewed that way if a Big decided to. Already Jamie had seen how Bigs treated Littles they thought were regressed and they had continued to treat him nearly as poorly after he informed them otherwise. And it wasn’t even poor treatment in the context of a regressed Little; then it was normal treatment. It was only poor if, like Jamie, the Little was entirely himself. What Jamie felt, and what he didn’t like, as a sense of superiority over regressed Littles, not that they were in some way inferior, but only that if he wasn’t in some way superior, then the Bigs who had treated him poorly had done nothing wrong. He didn’t want to feel superior to anyone; it wasn’t in his nature to have such an ego. He had always mad humility a policy, a way of working with all manner of people who practiced all manners of living, to be able to help them without judging. But Jamie didn’t judge Rosie, though neither could he see her an equal, so he thought, without diminishing his own status. Jamie responded by assuming the same mannerisms he found so unappealing when directed at him. “Hi, Rosie,” he said in explosive enthusiasm, “I’m so glad to meet you. I would love to play with you. Can you show me how?” All three Bigs ‘awwed’ in unison. So Jamie found himself seated in the sand listening to Rose instruct him on how to make a pile of wet sand. It was, if nothing else, familiar. He’d worked with young children, many of whom wanted to show him something, and he did it with feigned enthusiasm and asked questions he knew the answer to and generally humored them because it made them feel good about themselves and like they had a friend, which they did, though a different sort of friend than perhaps the imagined. He remembered also that when playing with a young child, the game is whatever they want to play. So they made a bigger and bigger pile, and the tools that would have made it something else were left to the side; she was happy having a pile for a castle. Inevitably, Jamie found himself bored and longed to get in the water. He wasn’t sure how to excuse himself, though. As an adult, he could always just decide the game was over and graciously extricate himself. As a Little, could he do that without disappointing the three Bigs, or would that be considered unkind? Luckily for the moment, but perhaps not later, the issue resolved itself. “The sun is moving, kiddo. Let’s get some sunscreen on you.” Becky motioned for him to sit in front on her chair and she applied the lotion to his entire body save what was covered by his bathing suit. Jamie felt he could have made a day of just being massaged with suntan lotion, even though the stuff was so heavy he imagined it was SPF 100. Becky stuck a ballcap on his head to protect it as well. “Do you want to play in the water?” That was better than the massage. “Yes, please.” “Alright; let’s get you ready.” Oh yeah, Jaime mumbled. Becky got off her chair and motioned for Jamie to lie down in her place. Looking to the sky was too much, and Jamie lifted the hat and placed it over his eyes to block the sun. “Are you feeling shy,” Becky asked when she saw. “Amanda, do you mind sitting on the other side of Jamie so he’s a little less exposed?” Amanda moved over while Becky rustled around in the pool bag. “Ready,” Becky asked, though it wasn’t a full-fledged question. It was just the outline of a question, because Becky didn’t wait for an answer before pulling his swimsuit off his ankles, leaving him in a diaper for hundreds of people to see. His diaper was removed without anyone taking note of it still being dry, and a swim diapered was threaded up his legs followed by his trunks. The swim diaper was so much tighter, but also thinner, though Jamie knew that wouldn’t last. He pulled the hat from his face and looked around. There was no crowd watching to see the show. He thought he could see someone getting a similar treatment down the beach. Becky held out her hands to help Jamie sit up. He started walking toward the water. As though he were about to walk into traffic, Jane reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet, buddy. You have to go with one of us.” Fair enough, he thought, though he was not amused. I bet I can swim better than any of them, Jaime thought. “And we need these.” Jaime turned back around to see Becky holding an inflatable ring and water wings. He wasn’t sure if he was more disappointed, more angry at them, or more angry at himself for not seeing this coming. He wanted to throw a genuine tantrum; the first time he had looked forward to doing anything, and it was being taken away from him. That’s not swimming, he thought. That’s not even floating; that’s bobbing. He drew on his patience and managed to keep control of himself, and he remembered what Becky and Amanda had both said: trust them and behave yourself. “C’mere so we can get these on you.” Becky sounded so chipper. It was difficult to be mad at someone who was so chipper all the time and clearly meant well. The fact that it was difficult only added to Jamie’s frustration. If he considered it, it wasn’t even Becky per se; it was being over-mothered. He had envisioned someone who mothered him by taking an emotional toll off of him, not someone who mothered him by placing so many, and such strict restrictions on him. From the diapers to the crib to her habit of feeding him unless he specifically asked her stop, the irritation was adding an emotional toll where none had been before. Of all the ways Jamie didn’t feel himself here, some good and some bad, the bad one that concerned him was how often he felt angry. It was a different kind of angry than the kind that drove him here, one emotion among many that drove him here. Being angry on behalf of others felt righteous but draining. This just felt draining. The things he used to be able to do – be patient, reason with people – were ineffective here for the most part. For all the progress she had made, and she had made good progress, this undid a lot of it. No one had asked him if he could swim, though Becky knew he loved water; she had asked, and he had told her so. At worst, Jamie thought she was doing this because, as she had before, she thought it was cute; at best, it was because of her need to feel she was keeping him safe rather than his need to actually be safe. The word ‘trust’ had been thrown at Jamie a lot – from Cheryl, Becky, and Amanda – and what needed was some reciprocation. His arm hanging in a water wing, each breath from Becky just pissed him off more. Fortunately, at least, her giant lungs made it a quick task. He looked at Rosie; Jane was getting her ready in the same way. She looked delighted. That pissed him off as well. The five of them walked toward the water – actually, three walked and two waddled while holding plastic rings around their waists – and stepped into the surf. Jamie tried to concentrate only on what he was feeling. The sand at the surf gives way with each footfall, and the water tamps the san back down until there’s no evidence you were ever there. But once past his ankles, the pressure of the water, just the few inches of it, was greater than his, and the sand was hard; it didn’t give way with each step; it hardly acknowledged Jamie was there. The water wasn’t cool; it was warm from a summer’s worth of sunny days. The foam obscured the sand through the water, and when they got deep enough it cleared so he could see the bottom, just a foot deep now, and he could see the sand was not all white. Some was black, and the waves formed patterns with it, the black grains being lighter than the white or the other way around, reflecting the curl and drift of the surf above. No shells of any notable size, and what small ones to be seen were mostly broken. Schools of fry; no fish or crab. And the smell, that smell of the medium for the creation of life, that remnant smell of the primordial which produced the first living thing, that smell you taste, that green smell of water full of life. A smell you can feel, because the salt sticks to the skin and stays in the hair, that smell you take home with you. That bloody smell when it fills your mouth. That burning smell when it finds you eyes. If you ever find yourself far from home, go anywhere to the sea, and some deep-buried part of you, a part that’s been there since before we were human, will recognize that place as your true home, the place you came from before we were. Jamie tried to take all that in, but his mind couldn’t hold the thought. Instead he felt the seams of the inflatable scraping against his skin and rubbing his armpits raw, and he heard Rosie squealing in a way that’s only barely cute in very young children, and without looking, he saw eyes on him, expecting something. They waded out until the Bigs were just past waist deep, leaving the Littles with their feet dangling a few inches above the bottom. Rosie dog paddled in circles. Jamie bobbed. Even if he had taken for granted that this was what he needed to wear, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Grabbed suddenly and before he could realize it, Jamie was out of the water and quickly back in it with a thud that forced the ring up into his armpits. The Bigs were laughing, and Rosie was squealing, “Do me! Do me!” Jane picked her up and threw her, and she landed laughing. Becky picked her up and threw her back. Jamie was airborne again, thrown by Amanda back to Becky, who immediately threw him back. Startled as he was the first time, the sensation of breaking the water, feeling the cool air suddenly embrace him before his toes broke back through the surface – Jamie couldn’t remember the last time someone has tossed him in the water this way. He thought to himself it was kind of fun, and soon he was laughing, too. And when all three Bigs had tossed him several times, and they were too tired to hoist him so forcefully one more time, Jamie actually felt disappointed. The fun didn’t last all that long; it never does. The stubborn part of Jamie didn’t want to admit he’d enjoyed himself anyway, just in a different way. “Who’s ready for lunch,” Becky asked, a little out of breath. Taking Jamie’s hand, she towed him back to where he could stand, and the five of them walked out of the sea. Once out of the water, Jamie learned even with a swim diaper he felt waterlogged. He recalled the rash he would get from being in a wet bath suit, combined with sand, and wondered how someone could possibly avoid that with one of these things on. There were chairs for Jane, Becky, and Amanda. Littles, Jamie assumed, are expected to sit on the ground. But Amanda sat down next to him anyway and opened a package of pureed fruit, handing it to Jamie along with a spoon. “Did you have fun?” “Yeah. I … Yeah.” “What?” “It’s nothing.” She nudged him with her foot. “C’mon, what?” Jamie didn’t know what to say. At what point does a request cross the line between just a request to do something differently and rejecting what Bigs saw as being in his own interest? The thing he had been told to stop doing so often, in other words. Probably not one request, but Jamie didn’t want to stop at one if he got a no. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much he had asked that, having begun doing differently, Becky or anyone else had acquiesced to do the way Jamie preferred. On this point, Jamie was feeling like he deserved to insist, and maybe even blatantly disobey. No one had told him what the consequences of that might be, but even so. “I want to go swimming.” “Right after lunch we can go again.” “No, I mean, I can actually swim. I want to swim.” “So, go ask her.” Her eyes pointed to Becky. “And if she says no?” “Then you and I will take a walk and do it anyway. But only if you ask her” As a foster kid, Jamie had always been afraid to ask for anything. He didn’t want seem ungrateful or greedy. He rarely asked for anything. “Will you come with me?” “Nope. Gotta do this on your own. But tell her I’ll go with you.” Sighing, Jamie nervously walked over to Becky, who stopped talking with Jane. She saw he looked tentative. “What is it, pumpkin?” “Um … Can I go swimming?” “Sure! We can all go when we’re done with our lunches.” Jamie’s impulse was to feign a smile and say thank you, but he forced himself. “Um, that sounds fun too, but I mean, I want to actually swim, without the water wings. I know how … I’m actually really good at it. Promise?” That sounded more pitiful than he meant it to; he didn’t mean that last part to be a question, or even to say it. Some part 15 years deep in his brain remembered it helped sometimes. Becky’s impulse was to kindly say no. How did she know if he could really swim? He was so small. Some other day, in a pool, maybe he could try. “Amanda will go with me.” Becky looked behind Jamie to see Amanda looking at her with a neutral expression. Amanda looked back hoping Becky would do the right thing without her having to explain it first. Trust me, trust Jamie, is exactly what she didn’t want to have to say; she wanted Becky to figure it out on her own. “Okay. But stay close together.” Becky said it looking into his eyes and then much more deeply into Amanda’s. Amanda smacked her hands together to remove some crumbs and took a long pull on her water bottle. She walked up to Jamie. “C’mon.” She held out her hand, and the two of them walked back to the surf. Jamie was almost waist deep, deep enough to float, when Amanda stopped. Hard as she tried not to be, she was nervous. He said he could swim, but so did people who could barely keep their heads above the water. Still, Amanda told herself, you’re here and a lot bigger than he is; it he really can’t swim, he won’t get far and it will be easy to pluck him out of the water. Becky and Jane watched from their chairs. Becky had both hands on the arms of her chair, ready to jump and run. Amanda let go of Jamie’s hand. In for a penny, in for a pound, Jamie thought. “Um, Amanda? Could you do me a favor?” “Depends on what it is.” Jamie figured it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. Putting his thumbs on the waistbands of his bathing suit and swim diaper, he said, “Hold these,” and in one motion pushed them off, dove forward, and threw himself under. He didn’t hear Amanda laughing or Becky shouting 'stay together!' over the waves, and if he had, he would not have turned back. Pushing off the sand, Jamie came up between the waves and threw his shoulders forward in a butterfly, dropping his head down to crash through the breaker, kicked his feet in the shallow-deep motion of the stroke, let the movement roll from his toes up, his body undulating like a cord snapped by the hand until the momentum and his muscles lifted his shoulders back out of the water and threw his arms forward again. The very motion felt wonderful. Jamie hadn’t done anything strenuous in he didn’t know how long. He didn’t realize how stiff and tight his back and shoulders were until he forcefully opened them with each stroke, taking at first three then two then one stroke for each breath as he became winded, when he went deep and dolphin-kicked so fast and low to the sand he pulled some of it along in his underwater wake. The salt burning his eyes, the exertion grabbing at his lungs, the diffuse light through the water, the complete silence. This felt like home. Anywhere there is saltwater, he thought, is home. Back above, Becky walked to the water and up to Amanda as casually as she could, but she wanted to run, and she wanted to start lecturing. She held it back though. “That’s not staying close, Amanda.” “Look ...” Amanda nodded toward Jamie, his feet breaking the surface and powerfully rolling from hip to knee to ankles in a curving thrust that would propel him back upward again. We couldn’t catch him if we wanted to.” They couldn’t. They were big, and they were strong. Jamie was small, and he was fast. Jamie was the rabbit turned fish. He could swim better and faster and longer than either of them.

TRIGGER WARNING: depression, suicidal thoughts. This part got much darker than I intended. Part 10That night, April let me roam free while she was preparing dinner. I wandered around the living room, waddling more than usual because my daytime diaper was completely soaked but April had said I could make it until the bedtime change. It felt strange to be unsupervised, to be able to explore this giant world freely. So much was similar to things back home, but scaled up. I decided I wanted a companion on my journey, the stuffed cat at the daycare had made me feel better and I had lots of stuffed animals in my room that I barely touched, maybe I could find one that made me feel the same sense of security at home. I was definitely going to find that kitty tomorrow at daycare though, that was my kitty now. I waddled past the giant couch that I would need help or leverage to climb up on, past the huge end table that I had to be careful not to smack my head on the corner of. There was no door from the living room to the hall, just a doorway and the door to my room was always open, so the journey there was easy.As I crossed the threshold into my room, my feet sunk into the deep plush carpet. The changing table towered above me, the edge of it must be eight feet in the air, easily. I toddled over to the pile of stuffed animals in the corner and looked for one that called out to me. There were lots of bears and ponies and the standard fare, but nothing that spoke to me. Finally my eyes settled on a stuffed river otter. I grabbed him around the torso, he was probably four feet long from nose to tail and when I carried him with one arm, his tail dragged on the ground behind me."You need a name," I said to the otter as I struggled through the jungle of the plush carpet with my new friend, "I know. You are Harry Otter."I giggled at my joke and Harry and I went back to the living room to find something else to play with. The coffee table was a low-ish table, my eye level was just above the lip of the table, so I could see all the way across it. April had left a guitar that she only played with sometimes on it, it was smaller than all her other guitars, like a baby guitar. Of course, to me it was as big as a cello. I looked around for something to stand on so I could get a better view of it. What could I stand on so I could see it better? I looked at April's shoes but decided that was a bad idea. I needed a block or a book or something... there was a book on the bottom shelf of one of the end tables, a pretty thick one. I pushed it off of the end table, softening its fall with Harry."Sorry Harry," I said as I pushed the book over to the coffee table. The book said, "What to Expect When You Adopt a Little" - it was one of those advice-type books like the one that gave Lisa the great idea that she should hypnotize me. I didn't feel bad about standing on this book at all. I grabbed Harry and climbed up onto the book, which gave me the extra foot or so that I needed to see the guitar.It was a beautiful dark brown and it smelled nice. But it only had 4 strings, and I knew that guitars usually had 6 strings. Bass guitars had 4 strings, but they were bigger than guitars, not smaller. I plucked a string and listened to the sound - it has mostly high notes. I used my right hand to hold down a fret and my left hand to pluck and I plucked out a little melody from one of the songs April worked on."Ahem," I heard and I spun around... but I lost my balance and fell off the book, right onto my diapered bottom with a squish."I uh, we... " I grabbed Harry, "we were just looking.""Kimmy, if you wanted to play some music, all you had to do was ask. Did you really think I'd say no to that?""I didn't know I wanted to until just now, I'm sorry," I looked down at the ground, hoping I wasn't in too much trouble."Are you hungry?" April asked. I nodded, a little too scared to look up. I really didn't want to be in trouble. I knew April would never spank me the way that Little boy was spanked in the store today, but his cries rung in my ears and I suddenly felt very small and helpless, sitting on the ground in a soaked diaper and a sundress, being scolded by someone big enough to do anything they wanted to me.April bent down and picked me up, supporting my bottom with one arm. I leaned into her and tried my hardest not to cry."What's wrong, sweetie? It's okay, I'm not mad at you - you didn't hurt anything, you didn't really even do anything wrong.""I... I'm a Little," the words sounded foreign, I think I was admitting this to myself for the first time."Of course you are, sweetie. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Littles are wonderful things.""I'll never get to be an Amazon, will I? I'll never get to be big and take care of myself, I'm a Little in an Amazon's world. I'll have to wear diapers and be cared for forever!" the tears started flowing in earnest."Oh my poor little Kimmy," April hugged me tight and sat down on the couch, rocking me gently making soft shushing noises, "It's okay. And it's okay to feel sad, it's okay to cry. All of these feelings are normal and okay.""I want to be big, I used to have an apartment and friends and I could eat whatever I wanted," I sobbed, "I didn't pee on myself and wait for someone else to change my diapers!""Were you really big though, Kimmy?" April sighed - a sad sigh, a worried sigh, not a frustrated sigh - this was the conversation she didn't want to have yet, "Were you happy with your apartment and your friends? Or were you tired and miserable? Did you take good care of yourself or did you smoke and drink until your body didn't work right?""I... " I suddenly realized that all those times she told me that I didn't know what was good for me, this is what she was really referring to. She knew all about my old life, my bad habits, my depression and self-loathing. I turned a deep shade of red at the realization. She was so enlightened, so smart, all of those self-destructive behaviors must seem... infantile to her."You are loved here, Kimmy. I love you deeply, I don't ask this to be mean, but were you loved where you were before?"I lost it at this question, deep sobs wracked my body and I held on tighter to April, who understood me more than I ever realized."No!" I sobbed, "No one loved me, no one would even care if I died!"I don't know how long I cried, how long April just held me in her arms while I sobbed my heart out.All I remember is her repeating softly, "I love you Kimberly, you are loved," over and over until I fell asleep in her arms.--When I woke the next morning, I was alone in April's bed, still in my yellow sundress but a fresh nighttime diaper. I pulled myself to a standing position and looked around. April had good taste, the walls in her bedroom were bright and she had some beautiful framed prints, mostly of women in goddess roles - the seasons and the like. Her furniture was black and the bed coverings were a dark gray.I felt drained, emptied. I climbed up onto one of her pillows and realized that just one pillow would make a reasonable bed for me.Then I spotted the picture on the nightstand. It was shot from above April's shoulder, she was looking down and just beaming, absolutely radiating happiness as she looked down at... me, wrapped in a hospital blanked, sleeping in her arms. This must have been from when I first came across, I didn't remember this at all. This was the picture April wanted to wake up to. Her love for me.I sat down on the pillow, staring at the picture. I was at a crossroads, emotionally I still felt deeply sad and tired. Realizing how miserable I was in the life I was still trying to get back to was painful, but so was the thought of embracing a lifetime of helplessness and diapers. I sighed and released the building pressure on my bladder as if to punctuate that last thought. I focused on the feelings and realized... it wasn't that bad. The warm, squishy diaper was comfortable in its own way... and I got to look forward to a change. I thought about what a diaper change was really like if I ignored the embarrassment. April would have me at my most vulnerable and she would just.. take care of me. She would work to make sure I was clean and healthy and she did it all with a smile.She loved me. Really, truly, deeply... she loved me. Why? What did she get out of it? Wasn't it just work? I realized this was the exact same question Lisa had asked... so even Amazons had trouble understanding it. April had told her simply that she hoped Lisa would understand the feeling someday.I looked down over the edge of the bed... I was easily six feet off the ground. A jump from this distance might hurt me.. I might be able to climb down the comforter... or I could just wait for the person I knew who loved me to come and get me. I wasn't feeling particularly independent today, so I just laid down on the pillow and waited. Until I realized that I actually wanted my pacifier and it wasn't clipped to my dress. I looked around and spotted it on the nightstand. I held on to the pillow and reached.. and grabbed it. I put the pacifier in my mouth and wished I had Harry Otter. For some reason I found the pacifier soothing... probably because April spent a lot of time soothing me while I had it in my mouth. I snuggled down into April's blankets and realized that what I wanted most right now was to be held.I didn't have to wait long. After just a short while, April glided quietly into the room. I sucked on the pacifier and held my arms out to her and opened and closed my hands. She approached me cautiously and scooped me up, cradling me in her arms. I snuggled into her breasts and closed my eyes, just listening to her heartbeat.Without speaking a word, she carried me into another room and sat down with me, rocking me gently. She sang a lullaby softly,You were born, deep within a starEvery atom forged in its heartAnd when it died, it flew across the skyBecoming you and I and everythingI don't know What wind may blowWhere dandelions flyAnd if you ever Feel aloneJust look up at the skyFor you belong, up there with the starsIn galaxies so far, far awayAnd may your dreamsTake you thereWhen you fall asleepHer voice was heavenly, she sang slowly and softly, her voice lilting, rocking me gently in her arms to the slow beat of the song."I wuv yoo," I said softly when she finished the song, my eyes still closed, "Tank yoo fow..." she pulled the pacifier out of my mouth, "Thank you for loving me. I don't deserve you." I looked up at her, deep into her eyes. She was looking down at me with an inscrutable expression, her thoughts were a mystery to me."You're welcome, my Little," she said softly, kissing me gently on the forehead, "but you're wrong. You do deserve it. You always did - your dimension is a cruel place. Most of the Littles on this island came from your dimension, you all need so much love. You and everyone else deserves love... Everyone deserves love, and I am lucky to have yours. I am lucky to have you.""Why do you want to take care of me? I know what I get from it... I didn't know how much I needed it, but I see that now. But I don't understand what you get from it?""I don't know if you can ever understand what I get from it, Kimmy. Just know that your love for me is just as important to me as my love for you is to you. You are MY Little, no one else's, and I will guard you jealously."Hearing the fervor in her voice as she claimed me made me feel... really good. Protected. Wanted. Loved."Come on sweetie, let's get our day started. The world still turns," she said with a smile as she returned my pacifier and stroked my hair. She carried me, still cradling me, out of the living room. The lullaby is "You Belong Up There With the Stars" by Jeremy Messersmith. It's beautiful, you should listen to it.

I love that the last part sparked a little discussion! Part 8I yawned and stretched, but found I couldn't stretch very far before I realized where I was. I was still in the daycare, in a crib. I used the bars to pull myself to a sitting position, my legs spread far apart by the crawler diaper. This was not the way I wanted to wake up, I wanted to wake up to the whole daycare ordeal being over, safe in April's arms and headed back home for a nice lunch and some cuddles. I scanned the room, looking for Rachael or Sadie... they didn't seem to be here. Instead, there were two new Amazons, another young girl - this one with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail - and a boy with short hair and glasses. I hugged the kitty close and watched the Littles interact with each other and the Amazons, now that there were three caretakers, it seemed like the two new Amazons were guiding activities while Miss Michelle checked on individual Littles. She really seemed to care about Littles and seemed to like her job. She looked over and spotted me watching her, then headed over to the crib."Good morning, Little Kimmy, do you feel better after your nap?" she asked, but without waiting for a response the crib bars were coming down and her hand was squeezing my diaper. I blushed at the invasion, "I want to get you out of this crawler diaper, Miss Rachael is gone for the day but I can't because it's dry. LittleGarden has a policy not to change dry diapers, Kimmy. Can you fix that for me? Let's get you back in a normal diaper so you can play."I looked over nervously at the RoboNanny.. I'd rather be stuck in the crawler diaper than go through that thing holding me down again."I'll change you myself, sweetie. No RoboNanny, I know you don't like it. Now come on, be a good Little and wet your diaper for me."This is what was expected of Littles, wet diapers and obedience. Rachael was gone and Miss Michelle seemed like she only wanted to help me, so with her hand still squeezing my crotch, I let go and flooded the diaper."Good girl, Kimmy. You're a good Little, I'm proud of you. Let's get you back into something more your age, a regular diaper and your pretty yellow dress. Do you want your pretty yellow dress back, sweetie?""Yes please," I said quietly as Miss Michelle with the pink hair lifted me out of the crib and carried me over to the changing table. Just being near the RoboNanny made me nervous, but it was still.. no movement, no sound. "Miss Michelle?" I asked as she laid me down and removed the onesie."Yes Kimmy?""I like your pink hair," I said and buried my face in the stuffed kitty after the onesie was removed. She touched one of the pink streaks and smiled before removing the crawler diaper."Thank you, sweetie. I like your pigtails," she hummed a little tune while she powered me and taped me into a blessedly thin normal diaper and pulled my dress on over my head. She popped the still attached pacifier back in my mouth but didn't pump it. She carried me over to the blocks, where there seemed to be the fewest Littles gathered and set me down. "Can you build me a pretty house, Kimmy?"I nodded and grabbed some of the blocks - they were plain wooden blocks of various shapes, mostly long rectangles and squares, and I started building my house. Any time another Little came near I would stop and hold the stuffed kitty tightly, but everyone seemed to give me some room after seeing what happened to me earlier."I don't even know why she works here," I heard the blonde Amazon talking nearby to the boy Amazon, "She doesn't even like Littles. And her Little Sadie is a monster."Of course Sadie belonged to Rachael, that just made sense. The two deserved each other. Then I realized what I just thought.. "belonged to"? Sadie didn't belong to Rachael, right? She was a captive. I didn't belong to April, did I? Did I want to belong to April? My feelings were all confused when I heard Miss Michelle call out, "Okay, all you Littles of twelve months and older, sit in a chair in the eating area. All Littles younger than that need to be in high chairs." That didn't seem fair, the ages were so arbitrary! April said I might be 11 months, I had to figure out a way to get her to tell people I was twelve months instead, then I'd get to sit in a chair. As I was pondering this, Miss Michelle came up from behind me and scooped me up, whisking me off to the eating area. I looked longingly at the stuffed black and white kitty, who had been there for me when I needed comfort. Moments later I was strapped into a high chair with a bib around my neck that read "Littles Love LittleGarden". I couldn't say that I agreed with it... until I saw lunch.They served me an actual sandwich, cut up into squares! The drink was in a bottle, but suddenly that didn't matter. The pacifier dropped from my mouth in my amazement. I snatched up the sandwich before someone could take it away and took a giant bite. Peanut butter and jelly! The best peanut butter and the best jelly I had ever tasted! The flavor was like an explosion, the taste was amazing. I closed my eyes and just thoroughly enjoyed my sandwich, letting out a long "mmmmm". It came close to the chocolate, the chocolate was still the best thing I had ever tasted in my life, but the PB&J was a close second. Amazons could certainly target a Little's tastebuds. I looked around, most of the Littles were also quietly enjoying sandwiches. The two new Amazons were towering over the Littles at the tables, supervising. Miss Michelle had a Little in her arms with a ridiculously thick diaper under her onesie and was feeding her a bottle of what looked like formula. I felt really bad for her, she probably had to deal with the six-month-old designation all the time. I shuddered at the thought. I stopped to take a drink from the bottle. The milk was amazing too! It was banana flavored and very sweet. I decided that lunch time at LittleGarden was a good idea in my book, I just needed to avoid Rachael. I also needed to ask April if she'd buy some of this peanut butter.Just then I heard the bell at the front desk ring and I looked over and saw April standing there. My heart leapt for joy and I waved vigorously at her, hoping she'd see me. When she did, her face lit up. I stuffed my mouth full of the sandwich while Miss Michelle, after handing the poor six-month Little over to the blonde, went to go talk to April and check me out of here. I heard the boy Amazon call out to me, "Whoa whoa there, Little girl - slow down! You're going to choke! Do we need to put down that you can't be trusted to feed yourself?"I looked horrified at the thought and slowed down, not putting any more of the blessed sandwich into my mouth.. I had only eaten half of it, I was still hungry and it was SO GOOD. I shook my head sheepishly at the boy Amazon and took a long drink from the bottle.Miss Michelle came over to me and took the tray away with my sandwich on it, she laughed at my sad face."You get to take the sandwich with you, silly Little," she teased. She set the tray aside and picked me up, "Your mommy is waiting for you, I think she missed you. Be sure to tell her how pretty she is today and that you love her."I really liked Miss Michelle. She sat me down in front of the gate and strapped my white shoes on my feet, then stood me up. I could see April smiling down at me. I heard Miss Michelle push a button and the gate released. I pulled it open and ran to April and wrapped my arms around her leg."ImissedyouIloveyouyouaresopretty," I gushed at April, who scooped me up with a laugh and held me close."I missed you too, my precious little Kimmy," she turned to Miss Michelle and asked, "Was she a good girl?""We had some trouble with foul language when Kimmy got an owie, other than that she was an angel. I regret to inform you that we were understaffed at that point, and Kimmy ended up getting fed and changed by the RoboNanny. I can confirm your concern for robophobia. Kimmy was very, very upset by it and needed a nap."I felt incredibly guilty as Miss Michelle told on me and I buried my face in April's shoulder. She rubbed my back gently. I felt a little cross that Miss Michelle was covering for Rachael, but I didn't think I'd gain anything by pointing it out. Miss Michelle handed a bag over and continued."She only got to eat half of her sandwich, the rest is in here. Kimmy seems to like PB&J even more than most Littles."I nodded, my face still buried in April's shoulder and she laughed again, "She seems to react very well to foods formulated for Littles in general, she is a little crazy for the Littles' Chocolate. Kimmy, should I buy some of this peanut butter?"I bolted upright in her arms and nodded, "Oh please, please please please!"Miss Michelle laughed, "You have a very sweet Little there, Ms. Morris. It is a pleasure to watch her. She's welcome back here any time.""Thank you. She'll be back next time I need to record in the studio. Kimmy, say goodbye to Miss Michelle.""Bye Miss Michelle! Thank you!"April took the bag with my sandwich and we left. "Miss Rachael at LittleGarden is mean, and her Little Sadie is mean too," I told April as soon as we were out of earshot. "I don't want to go to LittleGarden if they are there.""What happened?" she asked as she carried me, squeezing me a little."I went down the slide and Sadie went down too fast and kicked me into a shelf and it hurt a lot and then Miss Rachael put me in the RoboNanny on purpose and then made me wear a crawler diaper and they took my dress and it was awful," the complaints streamed from me in a rush, I was afraid of being cut off."So Sadie came down the slide and you were still at the bottom and you fell into a shelf and said some naughty words?""Well yes, but..""And then because there were only two Amazons there and twenty Littles they had the RoboNanny take care of you?""Yes but Miss Michelle tried to stop Miss Rachael from giving me to the RoboNanny but Miss Rachael was the boss and...""I'm sorry that happened to you, sweetie. It sounds to me like you made a mistake and they made a mistake. I'll be more firm about no robots for you next time, but it's hard to take care of that many Littles. That's why they have the RoboNanny. There are some daycares that are ONLY RoboNannies. This one costs a lot more than the automated one, I hope you appreciate that I was looking out for you when I brought you here instead."Suddenly I felt embarrassed about complaining. April went to extra trouble and expense to cater to my wants and I was being ungrateful."I.. thank you for taking me to LittleGarden," I said as April was buckling me into the carseat, "I'm sorry I complained, I didn't realize...""Shh, it's okay," April said, putting a finger to my lips, "You didn't know. You are a very sweet and considerate Little girl, you make me proud every day." She kissed me on the head and I felt tears welling up in my eyes.. I realized that I never felt this loved back home. I had a person who was looking out for my every need and want, and got nothing in return. She was giving to give, just because she loved me. April didn't see the tears until she was buckled into her seat, via the mirror. "Are you okay, Kimmy?""Yes," I sniffled, "I just.. you just love me so much, it makes my heart hurt.""I do love you that much and more," April smiled, "let's get you home so you can finish your sandwich, huh? Tell me about your day, did you have any fun at all?""Yes," I sniffled again, wiping my nose on a piece of my dress, "there was a stuffed kitty I played with, he made me feel better. And Miss Michelle asked me to build a block house and I built it so big, they have so many toys and blocks there! I like Miss Michelle a lot, she's the nicest Amazon ever, except for you of course, you're even nicer than she is oh, and Lisa is pretty nice too, I think we..."I rambled for a bit on the drive home, basking in April's love.