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.

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

This will be the final chapter of the catchup of my over-writing frenzy. Hope y’all enjoy, chapter 26 and on will be Bethany and Ashley’s evening escapades, started writing 26 but it will be a minute, have a big event this weekend that is going to have me distracted but I hope to have more for you in the coming week. Chapter 25 Elizabeth was disconnected from the table and lifted down to her feet to stand next to Sharlese. It was her first time unrestrained and on both feet in her time so far that she was actually able to take in and fully compare herself. Elizabeth and Bethany were considered tall amongst amazons but Elizabeth found herself at best at eye level with Sharlese’s chest. Sharlese was truly a giantess, an extremely rare genetic variant of the Amazon genome, much more common than Ashley’s particular makeup but fairly uncommon. Even Max would have to look upwards a bit at Miss Sharlese which had Elizabeth in throws of awe and submission. She was so used to using her Amazon size to its advantages to overpower and overcome any and all problems but standing next to Sharlese she felt tiny. Both because she was shorter and because sharlese’s build was at least one and a half Elizabeth’s wide. “Come along.” Sharlese beckoned with a finger as she approached a secondary door inside of the nursery that Elizabeth had been curious about. Sharlese opened the door into an en-suite bathroom. There was a walk-in closet immediately inside the door on the right. Elizabeth peeked in and could see hangers loaded down with short dresses, long dresses, ridiculously puffy dresses, onesies, arrays of strappy leather items, a stockpile of diapers amongst the shelves in different variations and colour schemes. There were two black cabinets with the same locks as the crib and wardrobe, they were a little ominous with black roses, the stems covered in thorns, carved into the doors. There was another door at the end of the bathroom past the closet, it had a padlock running through a cast iron hinge sealing the door. Sharlese took note of her gaze and commented. “That is the water closet, you will be given limited access to the potty when you are a good girl as a reward.” Elizabeth noted that, clearly she would not be getting access at this point in time, she had noticed a bit of building pressure in her bladder and a toilet sounded nice after the constant string of diapers she had been in. Across from the closets was the shower and independent bathtub, both appeared to be extremely high end with extra nozzles and jets protruding from the surfaces of black granite with brass fittings. Sharlese opened the glass door of the shower for Elizabeth to step in. “You will need to be rinsed before your bath.” Sharlese followed her in which Elizabeth found a little odd then started pulling cables from the walls and floors to attach to the cuffs that were still on from the change. A button was pushed and the cable slack was snapped up before she heard the faint sound of electric motors behind the wall pulling her. She only resisted for a moment but they proved to be unyielding. She realised she was headed towards the position Bethany had put her in the previous morning, was she really going to be starting this morning with an enema too? The motors stopped when her palms were against the wall and her feet were spread to the outer edges of the shower which was a much wider split than she had done the previous morning. Sharlese pulled a plastic cap over Elizabeth’s hair and made sure it was all tucked in before a blindfold was pulled over her eyes. Elizabeth was left for only a brief moment before she felt something against her lips, it felt like the pacifier bulb which her body couldn’t resist for some reason. She regretted the decision when straps were pulled around her head and secured. “Since you refused your morning bottle, we will double it for your shower.” Sharlese said as a tube was connected to the front of the pacifier and a valve turned which let the sweet formula flow into Elizabeth’s mouth. She felt some shocks in her tongue and recognized she had just been fitted with a trainer pacifier to encourage her to suck down the formula. Some of the fullness had subsided at this point but a double serving of the massive bottle she had seen would surely pop her. Sharlese seemed to have stepped out of the shower but only for a moment before she felt something probing her back door. She let out a little yelp as something slid in and she could hear the sound of a pressure cuff pump bulb being squeezed. The object inside her expanded little by little until it became almost uncomfortable and she let out a little yelp. Sharlese gave the bulb two more pumps for good measure and dropped it, letting it swing between Elizabeth’s legs. The sound of the sliding glass door could be heard before she heard the hiss of steam being pumped into the enclosure as the coolness subsided and was replaced with the warm embrace of thick humid air. She heard the rush of water after a few minutes and felt multiple streams hit her body all at once from several directions. Finally what she dreaded most, the plug in her began to introduce warm water into her bowels. It seemed to be an automated enema as it would only pump in a small amount of water and then quickly evacuate it before adding a fresh supply. Each time it made a cycle it would increase the amount by a low percentage. This treatment went on for 15 minutes and Elizabeth couldn’t say she hated it. The water was warm and relaxing and honestly the enema felt refreshing. The thing she didn’t like was the constant stream of formula filling her mouth and the bloated tummy feeling she was getting from it. Her tummy was bulging out from the large serving of oatmeal and the heavy formula sloshing around inside her. It took away some of her physique and gave her the appearance of baby fat. Finally the water shut down and a flow of hot air was pushed through the shower to dry her skin. Sharlese must have stepped into the shower because she felt her pacifier being pulled away and her restraints being released, the blindfold leading the shower cap before she was helped out of the shower. Sharlese guided her to the tub where she stepped into the warm bubble bath that had been prepared. It smelled of flowers, not as sweet as something she’d use on a little but very fragrant. The nanny gently scrubbed Elizabeth’s skin with a soft loofah until she was practically glistening. Aside from the forced feeding and enema, Elizabeth imagined this must be how queens live, waited on and bathed by someone else. She’d gladly accept that bit of humiliation for this sort of treatment. Her hair was brushed before Sharlese used a cup to scoop water from the bath and gently pour water over her head. She used her hand on the girl's forehead to shield her eyes from the water as she wet her hair down. Shampoo was gently massaged into her scalp followed by a rinse and a second shampooing and rinse. Finally oils and conditioners were applied that had her black hair practically mirror-like and shiny beyond any regimen she had ever come up with. She was in such bliss that the growing pressure in her bladder and over-full feeling in her stomach seemed to flow down the drain with the spent water after Sharlese pulled the plug. She was helped out of the tub and stood on a mat while Sharlese dried her off with the softest, fluffiest towel she had ever felt. She really, really, really could get very used to this. She was guided out of the bathroom and back to the changing table. She knew she was coming to the end of her stay here and would have to return home in a diaper to avoid the wrath of the LCU and Bethany. Sharlese gave her a little lift onto the changing table, not that she needed any help, and pulled a strap across her chest, covering her nipples and giving her a bit of modesty. A diaper was pulled from under the table and unfolded before being slid under Elizabeth with her legs lifted by her ankles before being lowered back down onto the padding. “Master Guildroy has been in contact with Miss Bethany to let her know your whereabouts and safety and guarantee her that you will be promptly returned home in the conditions mandated by your commands. He also recommended that I ensure your journey home be memorable and enjoyable.” With that comment, Elizabeth felt Sharlese slide the large, well lubricated diaper trainer between her legs. She was immediately greeted with locking confirmation vibrations and pleasant fullness that elicited a soft moan and a flood of excited memories. She was quickly powdered and the diaper sealed. It was a similar diaper to the one that Elizabeth had sent with her in her purse but seemed a bit thinner. She was then released from the table and stood in the centre of the nursery. A tight bra was pulled over her head, sports bra esque but designed more so to look like a training bra. It was simple black with purple roses covering the fabric and it held Elizabeth’s large chest tight and removed any sort of bounce she may have had in a normal bra. Next was a dark purple onesie with a black lace Peter Pan collar and lace cuffs around her bicep and thigh. It would be pretty cute on its own but Elizabeth hoped she’d get a bit more than just a onesie. Around the waist was a stiff band of canvas that acted as a belt and the Amazon curves of her hips guaranteed that when Sharlese pulled it tight, it would be locked in place. An integrated strap that started at her belly button, connected to the belt, was pulled up between her legs and tightened. It held the soft padding of the diaper against her skin and sank in the trainer so that it didn’t have any chances of moving. The strap was wide between her thighs and despite being in a thinner diaper, the tightness of the padding bowed her thigh apart a little and she’d have to be conscious of the waddle it would generate. The pain in Elizabeth’s bladder reared its ugly head. Now that her diaper was covered by the onesie she couldn’t help but be tempted to relieve some of that pressure, especially with the trainer. She didn’t want to soak the diaper completely and have to ride home in a wet diaper especially when she didn’t know how long the ride would be. The Nanny held up the next article to be added to her ensemble, a pair of black short dungarees. The shoulder straps had some very mild frills same with the leg holes and the front panel had Max’s crest embroidered into the left breast in all black thread. As Elizabeth lifted her leg to step in she very carefully opened up her bladder to let a small trickle into the waiting diaper. The trainer kicked to life on a low hum and carried through until she clamped back down. She wasn’t expecting the trainer to chirp loudly from inside of her diaper, causing her to turn red as Sharlese looked up with a knowing expression from her squatted position holding the dungarees open for her to step into. “You must have a bit of experience with the trainer.” Sharlese smirked seeing Elizabeth’s flushed face. “It is very tempting to play with isn’t it. If you’re not careful, you’ll be begging for diapers in no time.” Elizabeth wasn’t sure she’d be begging necessarily to be in diapers but the thoughts of the previous orgasms she had with the trainer excited her and deep down she knew it already had a hold on her despite the fact that she had to wet a diaper to use it properly. The dungarees were lifted and pulled over Elizabeth’s hips before Sharlese stepped behind her and pulled the straps over her shoulders and snapped them behind her back in the unreachable spot between her shoulder blades with a very audible click. Elizabeth knew immediately that the click was a locking mechanism and that she was now trapped in the shortalls. “A driver has already left an envelope with the key at your sister’s apartment for you. She was guided over to a vanity mirror where she could take in the look. It was cute, not too childish but also not fully adult. The onesie just looked like an adult singlet she’d wear to have the tight tucked look. Her breasts were still noticeable but dramatically reduced by the tight bra. The legs of the dungarees were short and tight and hugged her thighs a little lower than her favourite pair of short shorts she wore on the weekend to taunt her little charges with adult clothing. The diaper underneath would only be noticeable from its soft rustle as she moved around but it wasn’t immediately visually apparent. She was sat in the chair of the vanity and Sharlese went about blow drying and styling her hair into a complicated Viking braid that started from the perimeter of her face with a smaller braids on either side of her head that ran back over her shoulder and a large braid from the top centre and back. Her bangs were combed out and curled over her forehead in a thin curtain that landed just above her eyebrows. Again it was very cute but somewhere in between the childish and adult aesthetic. Sharlese used a small micro razor and some tweezers to finely tune her eyebrows just a little into a thinner shape and went about applying makeup. Elizabeth didn’t know why she was getting such a treatment for just returning home but again, the luxury of being cared for and primped and preened felt nice. The pain in her bladder was back again and she decided to release just a bit more while she sat in the chair as Sharlese worked on her. The trainer kicked up the level and she had to stifle a gasp as it fired up to her release. She had to remind herself after regaining composure to stem the flow lest she soak the diaper too early. Again the trainer chirped and Sharlese gave her a little smile in the mirror as she drew on some wings from the corner of her eyes. A very light blush was added and quick sealing powder finished the job. She looked like a porcelain doll when Sharlese was done. Next were socks and shoes. Some black thigh highs with purple lace around her thigh squeezed the little bit of pudge over the elastic band and the ensemble was completed with a pair of purple Velcro trainers with a black sole that completed the outfit. “We are a bit behind schedule so if you will follow me down to the car we can leave promptly.” Sharlese said as she held out a hand for Elizabeth. Elizabeth gingerly pinched the nanny’s fingers and was led out of the nursery and downstairs to the courtyard she had walked across dressless the previous night. Outside was one of the large black SUV’s she had seen in the garage the previous night. A tweener gentleman stood by the rear passenger door and opened it for Elizabeth as the pair approached. Sharlese gave a quick ‘thank you’ then looked at Elizabeth who did the same shortly after realizing she needed to use her manners. Elizabeth was not fully prepared for what she saw behind the door of the SUV. The seat that was available to her was a large car seat. Part of the rear row of seats had been removed to make room for the Amazon sized carrier permanently affixed inside the cabin. An automatic step folded down and Elizabeth was guided to the door and up the step before Sharlese’s hands took her hips and guided her down into the seat. The series of straps that bound her to the seat were intense. One across her hips, below and above her breasts, one over each thigh, cuffs on both calves and ankles, wrists bound to the sides of the bumpers that came up to hug her hips along with straps over her biceps and one well padded wide strap around her neck. Blinder wings came around either side of her head which meant she wouldn’t be able to see out either window on either side and the SUV was built limousine style with a wall dividing the driver from the passengers with a wide blacked out window in the centre. The final strap was a crotch strap that Elizabeth knew was included because what car seat is complete without one. Sharlese gave it an extra tug which gained a gasp from Elizabeth as she felt it push down on her fun button and immediately understood why little’s like their crotch straps so tight in the car. Sharlese closed her door and startled Elizabeth a little when she entered the cab in the seat next to her from the other side. She leaned forward and pushed a small button on a built-in screen in front of the restrained girl and shut the car door. A moment later she felt the engine startup as the monitor in front of her booted up some little tv show. She didn’t really pay attention at first then boredom set in and she began watching more and more intently. It was kind of silly and the built in adult sub contexts and innuendo that would be over the heads of a little were quite funny. She found herself forgetting about the pressure in her bladder as the car moved down the road. So much so that when the episode ended and the screen popped up a display of Max’s face she startled a little and lost her grip and let out a longer than previous streams which fired the trainer up at a new level before she managed to get herself under control. “How’s my little Fox this morning?” Max asked and Elizabeth realised it was a video call and he had surely heard the chirp of the trainer. She turned red and looked down as far as the car seat would allow her head to tilt in embarrassment. “I’m very good.” Elizabeth replied after getting her breathing under control. “How was Miss Sharlese? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there this morning. Next time Daddy will be there to help out, I promise.” He said with a knowing smirk. “She is quite wonderful, very adept. Maybe I’d be as good a nanny as her if I had that much experience.” Elizabeth said a little excitedly. As she heard Miss Sharlese clear her throat next to her which made her blush. “That’s good to hear. I had a wonderful evening with you and would like to see you again. I’m going to be a bit busy for a couple of days and was hoping we could schedule another date.” Max said. Elizabeth blushed crimson at the flattery and tried to hide her face again. “I’d like that.” She practically whispered back. “But I need to talk to Bethany first and make sure it’s okay.” She spoke up a bit. “I’ve already spoken to her this morning and she said as long as you want to come out, you’re allowed to. So long as you’re a good girl at home though.” Max said, causing Elizabeth to blush at being treated like a little being picked up for a playdate. “Now, I believe I caught you in the middle of something. I have the trainer set to step up the vibration levels with every wetting. Sharlese has told me that you had two accidents already this morning with trainer and that would mean that was your third. The fourth will be at maximum power but if you just trickle like you have been I doubt it will do much for you. And if you have a full release after the fourth, it will only punish you for holding it. I suggest your next accident finishes the job but you may know better than Daddy and might need to learn a lesson.” Max explained. Elizabeth knew that realistically the third hadn’t really relieved enough pressure and her bladder was aching. Along with the thoughts of the sweet orgasmic release she’d get if she fully let go it was very tempting. “Do you want to have your accident away from daddy? Somewhere a bit more private like the elevator at the apartment, granted you may be stuck in the elevator with someone which could be hard to explain. I could also torment you, set the schedule for the vibrator to start delivering punishment shocks as soon as you step out of the car. Lots of fun options to choose from. I’ve asked the driver to drive very slowly and carefully because of the precious cargo in the back seat. The drive may take over an hour to get you back.” Max explained. He was devious and his dominant takes of control from Elizabeth had her in throws of submission. “Sharlese, could you be a doll and give Little Lizzie her pacifier.” Max asked as Sharlese pulled out a purple pacifier and slid it into Elizabeth’s mouth without a moment of hesitation. “I’ll let you get back to your cartoons but I will be keeping an eye on you with the cameras as I have been this whole time.” Max said which made Elizabeth’s eyes open wide in disbelief. “Yes, sweetie, I have the whole mansion covered in cameras and especially the nursery. I watched quite a bit of your morning while the boring old heads ran circles around each other in my meeting. I will say you look absolutely precious and I hope you enjoy your gifts. Enjoy your ride and listen to your nanny.” Max said before his camera cut away and the cartoons flipped back on. Elizabeth was a little nervous to act right away. Her bladder was begging for the release and her libido kept taunting her with horny thoughts of the intense orgasm she’d get for wetting. But she kept trying to push down those thoughts as she knew Max was watching and Sharlese was right next to her. Her mind justified that she had her first experience with the trainer right in front of her older sister and littles constantly were being watched as they wet themselves and made stickies in their nappies. She decided to focus back on the cartoons to distract her mind and that did an excellent job. She made it another ten minutes into the car ride before she suddenly started feeling wet between the legs. In fact she had released her bladder without noticing at all and her first instinct was to clench back down but she refrained when she felt the powerful max level trainer fire up. She couldn’t stop herself now even if she wanted to, it felt so good to wet her diaper. Her breathing accelerated through her nose and she closed her eyes as the waves of pleasure washed over her while she nursed the pacifier for comfort. She was in her own little world as she soaked herself and the trainer praised her for wetting. It praised her so well that she came twice before she was finished and lay limp in the restraints of the car seat. “Good girl little Lizzie, good girl.” Sharlese praised her as she came into view and gently patted Elizabeth’s brow with a small pink handkerchief. Elizabeth blushed as she realised she had just put on a show for both Max and Sharlese. A small text box popped into the corner of the monitor in front of Elizabeth with the praise “good girl, my little fox,” the sender information only read Daddy and Elizabeth would have passed out from blush overload at the praise from Max as she gave the pacifier a few involuntary suckles. Now that her diaper was wet and she was more sensitive from the orgasms, the crotch strap really began to do a number on her. Each little bump felt like a hill and she had all these tingly sensations in her tummy. The squish of the fully soaked and warm diaper added a strange sensation. She knew she was sensitive from her orgasms and the added moisture from her accident made her feel like she was excessively horny wet in her diaper. It was an interesting feeling and the crotch strap kept making itself apparent as she involuntarily tried to start grinding her wet padding into the strap. She tried to keep the moans low and act like she was watching the cartoons in front of her as she suckled the pacifier. “Is the strap too tight sweetie?” Sharlese’s question came out of nowhere and broke her train of thought as she froze. Elizabeth shook her head ‘no’ and blushed. A bump in the road caused her to groan into the pacifier as the strap dug into the diaper with a dip. Sharlese’s hand came to the strap and gently cupped Elizabeth’s soaked padding through her shortalls. “I can loosen it for you if it’s making you uncomfortable.” Elizabeth could hear the smirk in her voice, she’d do the same thing to littles in the car when shapperoning them around. Elizabeth tried to hold herself back but found her head shaking ‘no’ almost immediately in response. She blushed thinking about how far she had fallen, she was desperately horny, something about this submissive side of herself had her constantly on edge and the humiliating attention was almost too much. “Suit yourself little fox.” Sharlese said as she pulled away to sit back in her seat. Elizabeth went back to watching the cartoons and very carefully tried to grind into the strap undetected, completely forgetting there was a camera pointed right at her with Max more than likely watching on the other end. Then she had a thought, if she wet just a little more, maybe the trainer would stir her a little more while she ground on the strap, she figured she was pretty empty after letting go previously but tried to relax her muscles and let out some more flow. To her surprise, she felt the padding get warmer again and the trainer started up on the lowest setting again. With the strap of the car seat aiding she was able to bring herself to the edge again and pushed forward with all she had into the strap to bring herself over. She crumpled back into the car seat again as the trainer chirped to let everyone know what she had just done. “Best be careful little fox, I didn’t put you in a thick diaper and you’re probably already coming close to capacity. If I had known you were such a heavy daytime wetter as you were at nighttime I would have chosen more noticeable padding. I’d hate for you to leak and spoil your nice clothes, if we need to pull over at a rest stop to change you just let me know.” Sharlese said which caused Elizabeth’s cheeks to burn anew at the thoughts of being changed in public and the humiliation of leaking through a diaper. Luckily there wasn’t much of the journey left and Elizabeth was feeling content so the tight strap between her legs only kept the embers of her arousal at a low warmth so she didn’t feel the need to act as desperately. There was a familiar turn and bump as they pulled into the apartment’s underground garage and she felt the SUV come to a halt. She heard Sharlese’s seat belt unbuckle and her door open, a moment later Elizabeth’s door swung open and Sharlese reached in to start undoing the restraints. Elizabeth was helped out of the car and stretched a little when she got on her own feet. Sharlese had a black and purple bag slung over her shoulder that matched Elizabeth’s current aesthetic. As she looked at the bag it became apparent that it was a diaper bag and the colour scheme matching her own outfit would only mean one thing to others. Her legs were a little wobbly and Sharlese took her arm to help support her. “You might have played a little too much in the car sweetie, we’ll have to be careful with the next ride.” She said before she pulled the pacifier from Elizabeth’s lips and deposited it in her side pocket. Elizabeth had completely forgotten about the pacifier until Sharlese’s finger had hooked into the ring and pulled it from her mouth. “Now, do you know how to get back home from here?” Sharlese asked, looking down at Elizabeth who seemed to shrink a little with the nanny’s gaze. She nodded her head ‘yes’ bashfully. “Then lead the way, I need to have a word with your big sister and drop off your personal effects.” Elizabeth was a little stunned that she had to escort the nanny back to her sister’s apartment but looked up with determination and stepped forward. The soggy padding between her legs was cooling a bit and the added mass of her multiple wettings, big and small, made her unknowingly waddle a bit to keep the damp padding away from her skin. Sharlese watched from behind as her hips swayed and her slightly wider gate gave away the diaper to anyone who was keen, which for the most part was anyone who had ever seen a diapered little. The parking garage was empty and only one couple coming out of the second elevator caught a glimpse of Elizabeth who darted into their open elevator as soon as the doors opened. Sharlese pushed the floor button for the elevator, she knew where she was going all along but part of the mind games when working with a little or submissive was letting them have some control and charge. Elizabeth hadn’t even noticed that Sharlese had pushed the right button for the elevator as she leaned against the wall, staring at the floor with rosey cheeks. She’d realise later that she had been played once she got over the embarrassment of almost being seen but in the moment she was buried in her own thoughts in her head. The elevator rose and the doors opened, Sharlese “tsked” a little under her breath, hoping to have some other resident join them for the elevator ride to see the adorable blush of Elizabeth. Alas, they departed the elevator and Elizabeth made a speedy exit and moved down the hallway to Bethany’s door. “I’ll have to get you a harness and leash for next time if you’re going to take off without your nanny like that little Lizzie.” Sharlese quietly said as she caught up with Elizabeth. Sharlese knocked on the door for Elizabeth who was a blushing mess holding her dungaree’s straps tightly from the comment. Each time Sharlese made a move to embarrass her she seemed to regress a little bit further. ‘She is quite the catch Master Guildroy’ Sharlese thought to herself before the door opened.

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

Does she also change his wet and messy diapers? 😉

Definitely toddler! 👦

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

I tend to see myself more as a toddler because at that stage, I'm still in babyhood but not yet in the big kid stage. I am still in diapers and can be a baby in one moment and the next be a big kid wanting to be a big kid but not quite there yet

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

Will it cut the cheese?

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.

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.

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

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.

I can't remember exactly when it was but years ago and before Covid. I have been wearing and wetting nappies in public for years and had occasionally messed at home. Messing my nappy has never been a big thing for me but I enjoy it when it happens. For some reason, can't remember why, I was curious about what it would be like to mess in public. So I planned it. I had to go into town so I waited until I felt the beginnings of the urge to poo. I walked into the town centre with a nappy already on and did my errands. I had already planned where I would do it because I knew where the toilets were in the big Debenhams department store. When I felt the need to go I went to the top floor of the shop and browsed the shelves. When I felt the poo come I squatted and looked at items on a low shelf. Pooing my nappy right in the shop with other people milling around was thrilling, and felt so babyish and naughty. I play as a bigger kid so I should know better than to fill my nappy in public like that! When I was done I walked around for a little bit to enjoy the feeling then I went and changed my nappy in the toilets. Over time I found that it was easy to use the baby change facilities in Debenhams too and I loved lying on the baby changing mat in there - much better than the disabled toilets with no space. Sucking on my dummy and changing on a baby change table was amazing. Just a shame there was no mummy to do it for me.

Chapter 18: Only One Step Remains Friday night was pizza night, and it sucked as I wasn’t even being allowed to have any pop. Mom, Dad, and Grace each had a full glass of ice-cold root beer to go along with their pizza dinner. Even Jackson got a small glass of pop, albeit with a bunch of ice, so there wasn’t actually that much for him to drink. Like I had been at his age, he could get a little too hyper if he had too many sugary drinks. Any time he was given pop, my parents made sure it was of the uncaffeinated variety. But I was the exception. I had a glass of water. Not even tea or juice. Both of those alternatives had been vetoed by Dad because they contained sugar. And it wasn’t even a big glass of water at that. I hoped this practice of limiting my fluids wouldn’t be so strict once my parents surrendered to buying me pull-ups. I took the tiniest of sips from the glass of water before taking another bite of my pizza. I was making as much of an effort as possible to ration out the sips of water as I tried to finish my two slices of pizza. The last thing I needed was to finish the water before I had finished eating my pizza. That would leave my mouth parched for the remainder of the evening, as Mom had strongly implied that I wasn’t going to be allowed to have any more refills. How many more times was I going to have to fake wetting the bed before they realized that this all was pointless? I stared down at my slice of sausage and pepperoni pizza as we sat in the living room and ate our meal on the couch. I didn’t feel all that hungry at the moment, even though I hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch at school. Pizza just wasn’t as appetizing without a sugary, caffeinated drink to wash it down. We were about twenty minutes into the movie my parents had chosen for tonight. The only good thing was that Jackson was at least old enough to be allowed to watch some PG movies, so we had something on to watch during dinner that was at least entertaining. The movie of choice tonight was “Spy Kids.” I would have preferred to watch one of the Harry Potter movies, but Jackson still wasn’t old enough to start watching them, according to my parents, so that would have to wait for a time when he wasn’t around. It had been a lot easier in the few years when he had been too young to care about what was going on the TV. For now, I mostly had to stick with the books to get my magic fix. Now everything that came on during the day had to be vetted to ensure that it was age appropriate for him. I knew Grace had her own shows that she watched on her computer in her room, but I didn’t have access to my own Netflix account like she did. At least this was a movie I hadn’t seen before. We often got stuck watching a Pixar movie that I’d seen with Jackson a half-dozen times or more. A line of dialogue from one of the parents in the movie caught my attention. The two adults – who were secretly spies – were expressing concerns about how their two kids were holding up without them. “They can take care of themselves,” the mom said. “They are still in diapers,” the dad said. “Only one wears diapers. And only at night. It’s no big deal,” the mom said. Jackson burst out laughing at that line of dialogue. I did my best to continue focusing straight ahead at the TV. This was so embarrassing. Yes, having my parents see another reference to diapers being used for bedwetting could be helpful in my quest to get them to purchase those pull-ups, but it felt so awkward to have the possibility displayed right on the TV in front of everyone, especially as Grace was also aware of my bedwetting. “That’s silly,” Jackson said. “Why aren’t they potty trained already?” Grace, who was sitting closer to the TV on the same couch as me, turned back in my direction. From how red her face was, it was clear I wasn’t alone in being quite embarrassed by the scene in this movie. “We’ll, they are old enough to be potty trained during the day,” Mom said. “But not everyone is able to potty train quickly at night. Sometimes their bladders don’t want to listen to them when they are asleep, at least not until they get older.” My younger brother thankfully accepted the explanation without any other comments. I breathed a sigh of relief that Mom hadn’t decided to bring up the fact that everyone in our family, apart from him, was or had been a bedwetter at some point. I tried to guess which of the two characters were in diapers at night. The oldest girl, Carmen, was the same age as me. Her younger brother in the movie, Juni, was nine years old. It really hoped that it was the boy who was the bedwetter. Grace excused herself the moment she was finished with her pizza – if she had been allowed to take it to her room to eat, she most certainly would have chosen to do so – and left the room, presumably on her way upstairs to the bedroom. The only movies she enjoyed watching with us were animated ones. Grace always had a bunch of different facts on hand about the behind-the-scene details of how the animations for those films had been done. I wondered if that was something she’d be studying more in college in the fall. Part of me wanted to get away from the movie as fast as possible. I had a sinking feeling that the topic of diapers was going to come up again at some point. There had to be a reveal as to which of the kids still needed them. At the same time, I was curious about how it would turn out, despite how embarrassing it would be to have to sit around and be in the room when that scene played out on the TV. I took one final sip of water and set the glass that was now only full of ice cubes to the side. With any luck, the ice cubs would melt enough by the end of the movie so I could get a few more sips of water. I still had half a slice of pizza left on my plate, but I didn’t feel like finishing it at the moment, not without something to drink to wash it down. Beside that one oblique reference to diapers, the topic had been dropped off. I hoped that the audience would be left in suspense. There hadn’t yet been any further conversations since this morning about the lack of effectiveness of the pill that was supposed to have prevented me from wetting the bed the night before I had allowed my pretending about having a headache from the pills to drop off before Mom and Dad got home from work. I didn’t want to risk going too far overboard with it. I felt that my acting job from this morning had been sufficient to make them think that I was dealing with the same symptoms that Grace had when she had previously taken those pills. Still, I wondered how many nights it would take for my parents to abandon the bedwetting pill as a solution to the nighttime accidents? I had to assume that as long as it wasn’t producing results, they would stop making me take it fairly soon. I pulled my feet up onto the couch – which I now had to myself with Grace’s absence – and stretched out my legs. Chester hopped up on top of me a few minutes later and nestled in around my knees. “Stop it, or I’ll call you names,” the younger brother, Juni, said, threatening his older sister during an argument. “Go ahead, warthog. You got nothing on me,” Carmen replied. I knew right away what was going to happen next. The writers had set Carmen up for a spectacular fall. Of course, it had to be the girl my age. “Sure I do, diaper lady.” “How long have you known?” “Since forever. Mom made me swear not to mention it.” Jackson was again laughing loudly at the scene. Why did everyone have to find the topic of older kids dealing with bedwetting to be so funny? I really wanted to see the expressions on my parents’ faces at this moment. What were they thinking? Was this sparking an idea of something they could try if the pills stopped working? But I couldn’t dare bring myself to look back. I was both too embarrassed and concerned that they might get the wrong idea. I couldn’t have them thinking that I was either too eager for some nighttime protection or too embarrassed to be willing to try it. I wasn’t confident that I could work my facial expressions into an appropriate middle ground. The movie continued for another half-hour or so, and it reached its conclusion without making any more references to the fact that the twelve-year-old girl still wore diapers to bed. Mom sent Jackson up to his room with instructions to tidy up his toys before it was time for his bath. Now that it was summer, I still had a couple of hours before I would need to go to sleep. But this also meant that I was alone with my parents for the first time today. The show had created a perfect opening for me to bring up the topic of pull-ups. But it was all too sudden. I hadn’t had enough time to figure out the proper way to word my request. And it was too important of a moment to try to do it impromptu. Instead, I grabbed the third Harry Potter book off of the shelf and flipped to where I had been last reading it. It was my favorite of the series. Mom preferred to read on her tablet while Dad was watching something on his phone with his earbuds in. It was probably a show that they didn’t think I was old enough to see yet. I normally found it easy to get lost in the world of Hogwarts while reading, but I wasn’t able to concentrate on that tonight. My mind began to wander, wondering about how bedwetting would be handled in a magical world. I imagined there probably was a spell that would automatically dry off a wet bed. Mom stepped out of the room for a few minutes. When she returned, she was again holding a small glass of water, and, like last night, I suspected she had those special pills in her other hand. “Maddy,” she said. “It’s time to take your medicine again before bed.” “Do I have to? It didn’t even work. And it gave me a really bad headache.” “Why don’t we give it a try for a few more nights?” Mom asked. “If it doesn’t work, I promise I won’t make you take the pills again, OK? Perhaps there might be some other options your pediatrician can recommend on Monday instead.” “Fine,” I mumbled. “A perfect way to ruin my first day off of school.” It seemed like Mom meant other medications. I just hoped the doctor was familiar with nighttime pull-ups. Pull-ups. Mom. Why couldn’t she mention pull-ups? That had just been a subplot in the movie. As if in reaction to my expression, Mom gave me a slight smile. “You don’t have to worry,” she said. “We never made your sister wear diapers to bed, and we aren’t going to do that for you.” I did my best to put on a happy face. Someone my age who was actually a bedwetter would have to find a statement like that from their parents to be a relief. But it was so hard to do so. With one single sentence, Mom had completely ruined all of my plans. I now realized that there wasn’t going to be any scenario where my parents were going to have me wear pull-ups of their own accord. “Here,” Mom said, handing me the glass of water and the pills. “Best to get these down at least a little bit before you actually get to sleep.” Still in a bit of shock from Mom’s pronouncement that she wouldn’t make me wear diapers, I downed the pills easily and then handed the empty glass of water back to her. “Since you’re going back upstairs,” she said. “Can you please tell your sister that she needs to come down and do the dishes before she goes to bed?” As I trudged up the stairs, my mind was in a state of complete shock as I tried to contemplate what I should do next. I had felt so confident over the past day that I was on a surefire route to success. My mind kept replaying what Mom had said to me, parsing her words to try to find any wiggle room. She had made a small but important distinction. She had said that they wouldn’t force me to wear diapers, not that they didn’t believe diapers shouldn’t be used for bedwetting. I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached the top of the stairs. There was still some hope for me, but I would have to somehow get it across to my parents that I would willingly accept wearing pull-ups at night and do so in a way that didn’t make it look like I was actually all that eager to wear them. I needed to spend some time tonight thinking about how I was supposed to begin that conversation so I could be better prepared the next time that it came up. I silently chided myself for my lack of preparation. I should have been ready for that conversation tonight. I was now standing at the end of the hallway. Like usual, Grace’s door was closed. I knocked on it a couple of times. Unlike usual, there was no response from her. Not even a grumpy request to leave her alone. Somehow, she always seemed to know whether it was me or my parents knocking on the door. She would never be that sassy toward them. I knocked on the door a second time. Still no response. Seriously, why was she not even bothering to answer? I knew very well that I wasn’t supposed to open the door without Grace’s permission. She was not going to be happy with me. But Mom had insisted that I pass along the message. Disobeying her was worse than bothering my sister. I reached out and twisted the handle of the doorknob. I peeked inside as I slowly inched the door open. Grace was seated in the corner in front of her large monitor with her fancy computer box flashing all sorts of neon lights next to her. I didn’t have a clear line of sight to what was on the screen, though it looked like she had one of her digital art programs open. Even from just inside the doorway, I could hear the faint sound of music coming from Grace’s headphones. The music had to be on crazy loud for me to be able to hear it from where I was standing. “Hey!” Still no response. I took another step forward. Still didn’t have a good view of what my older sister was drawing on her computer. “Hey! Grace!” There was a flurry of taps on the keyboard. The monitor flashed away to the home screen before I could get a good look at what she had been drawing. Grace removed her wireless headphones and turned around to look at me. Her eyes widened. She glanced back at her monitor one more time before returning her gaze to me. “What the heck, Madelyn. You’re supposed to knock.” “I did knock. Mom sent me to tell you to come downstairs and wash the dishes.” Grace rolled her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten. You’d think they wouldn’t care as long as I got it done before I went off to sleep. Just tell her I’ll be down in a bit.” “You can tell her,” I said. “I’m going to bed.” I left Grace with her secrets and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. With a mouth full of sudsy toothpaste, I considered my options for tonight, now that I had taken the bedwetting pill again. What I really wanted to do was pee in bed again while lying down, but there was no way I was going to be able to accomplish that until the morning. The pill was effective enough at limiting my body’s urine production to the point where there would be no way for me to pee at midnight while I was taking it before going to bed. One option was to wait until tomorrow. There would be no rush to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. By the time I woke up, my bladder would be full enough to pee in bed. And unless I slept in way too long, Mom and Dad wouldn’t be coming in to check on me. But that also meant that my bedwetting accident would be more obvious to everyone, as I would have to bring the bedding down to the laundry room while they were all awake. I didn’t care for that option. That meant faking a late-night bedwetting accident was better than faking an early-morning one. But without the ability to make myself pee, I had to resort to the trick that I had previously used of just tossing my dry bedding into the washing machine to create the appearance of having cleaned up after a nighttime accident. I waited for what seemed like forever, though probably less than an hour had passed, until I heard my parents finish getting ready for bed. I emptied out the remainder of my secret soccer water bottle onto the middle of the bed. May as well have the bedding appear wet while carrying it downstairs in case I ran into anyone on the way. I had the feeling that Grace was still awake, though, with any luck. She would be far too distracted without whatever secret project she was working doing on her computer. As I returned to my bedroom after getting the washing machine started, thought back again to what Mom had said regarding my sister. They hadn’t forced her to wear diapers. I wondered if they had suggested that option to her only for it to have been refused. Had she perhaps reacted in a way that was making them not want to broach the topic with me? I finished putting a new set of sheets onto my bed, which crinkled beneath me as I tucked myself under the covers. I tried to focus on the one bright spot from this evening. My parents were completely aware that there were diapers that could be used by bedwetters my age. I thought back to how much I had accomplished in the past week since I’d put this plan into action. I’d convinced my parents that my bedwetting was a real issue that wasn’t going away anytime soon. I’d managed to keep up the act despite their multiple attempts to find a solution. I’d discovered that they were informed about the possibility of diapers, even if it wasn’t something they were currently planning to have me use. I’d made so much progress, and now only one step remained. I needed to convince them that I would be OK with wearing diapers again. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

Sorry about the delay, chapters will probably be a bit inconsistent due to my job. But I am still writing this ^-^ Chapter 2 Caregiver? “Melissa Cooper,” the nurse called, jostling her from her reprieve. As she walked over her mind began to wander. She was hoping to see Sarah here but once about a third of the kids were called she received a text from her. It was a little disappointing, she was hoping to speculate what their classification might be. Although she already knew she was going to be a master. After all she was barely a few months older than most of her friends yet she already towered over them. That and her urge to protect and care for them. “Come this way please,” the nurse said, holding the door open for her. “Thanks ma'am.” “Go into the first curtain,” she instructed. Melissa walked into the small divided area. Somewhere in the distance she heard the unmistakable sounds of crying. Whoever she saw or heard someone very she just wanted to scoop them up and coddle them till their tears stopped. These feelings were especially strong around her best friend Sarah. Every time she saw the small girl she wanted to scoop her up and snuggle her until she fell asleep. Her musing was interrupted when the nurse spoke. “I'm going to draw some blood now. Is that okay?” “Yes ma'am.” The nurse pulled out various bits and bobs before drawing blood. The needle went in with barely a flinch from Melissa. Someone else, probably a little, just had their blood drawn probably. Judging from the wailing that came from somewhere to her right. “Having some problems today?” “No more than usual. That's why we only do this once a year. I saw that you're fifteen. Didn't get a classification last year?” “Oh no,” she waved her other hand dismissively, “I was really sick last year.” “Ah well I'm glad you're feeling better this year. Still not uncommon for people to be classified later. Some kids are late bloomers.” “Yea my older sister didn't get classified until she turned seventeen.” “There, all done!” She removed the needle and bagged up the vials filled with their crimson liquid. “I know you don't need it but do you want a sucker?” “Yea sure.” “Here you are,” she said, handing over the brightly colored lollipop. “Follow me to the next testing area.” “Is this the Bectel test?” “Yes, how'd you know?” “I want to take classification specialization as my major.” “An aspiring doctor. That's great, I'm sure you'll do wonderfully.” “Thanks,” she said, her cheeks turning pink unused to praise. Being the only other dom in a family of subs was not the easiest thing. Mama Shirley was a master for Momma Lisa and Papa Chris who were a sub and pet respectively. Her mind was really wandering today she realized as the doctor coughed to get her attention. “Sorry…” she said sheepishly. He flashed her a simple smile before speaking. “Quite alright, if you're ready, sit here please.” She sat down, feeling strangely small in this man's presence. Even though she looked to be close to his height. “I know what the test is, I studied it for when I eventually take my exams to get into university,” she said, preemptively. “Ah, coming for my job eh…?” He chuckled. “Not at all Sir,” she replied, smiling at his joke. He made small talk while applying the electrodes to her head. She watched him with rapt attention. “Alright I'm going to show you a video then you'll be done.” “This to stimulate a headspace if any are present right?” “Yes, you are well informed.” “And that won't mess up anything, will it?” “Not at all,” he said before turning on the TV sitting in front of her. It turned pure white before shapes and colors began to flash on the screen. She began to feel warm, her thoughts wandering, before settling on Sarah. “I hope she's doing well,” she said as the warmth continued to spread. “Who?” “Sarah, she's so small, and cute as a button. I had to tell off these mean girls who were teasing her. She was about to start crying. The way her bottom lip quivered was adorable, but no one messes with my baby girl,” she answered, nodding thoughtfully. “Sounds like she has a good protector,” the doctor said as he fiddled with the computer. “I just want her to be happy. The wait for classification has been hard on her. She thinks she hides it well but I can tell she's sad and worried. I just want to scoop her up until she falls asleep in my arms.” “I'm sure she'd like that.” “You think so? I don't want her to hate me. She really wants to be a Caregiver. They usually do the comforting. I'm worried, she sent me a text saying she was done but didn't reply when I asked how it went. I hope she's not hurt…!” she tried to sit upright but was pressed back down by the doctor “Almost done,” he said gently. “Just stay focused on the TV please.” “Right, sorry…” She fell silent after that, her mind playing different scenarios in her mind. Everything from Sarah getting smiling happily to her being abducted by a stranger. Suddenly the screen turned white and she blinked, shaking her head to clear the fog that settled on it. “All done,” the doctor said. “What happened?” “Test is finished sweetheart, you may go,” he said again, a gentle smile on his face. “Right, sorry. Thank you for taking care of me,” she said shaking her head and trying to remember what the video showed. “It was my pleasure.” The nurse returned and guided her back to the auditorium, leading her up to Miss Clarissa, who handed her a letter and sent her on her way. Momma Lisa was waiting for her outside the doors. The moment she stepped through her Momma threw her arms around her. “Hey baby girl, how was it?” “Strange, I don't remember the test part. But I felt like I was talking about something very important. I have a letter for you.” She took the letter and opened it up. Her eyes scanned through the lines. Her face was unreadable as she finished the letter and folded it back up. “What's it say?” “It says that you're a caregiver, and that the test results will determine your ideal age.” “...caregiver…? Not master…?” “That's what it says sweetie. Let's… let's head home and talk to Mama Shirley.” “Yea…” she replied rumbly before following her mom to the car and climbing in. I hope Sara's a caregiver or she's going to hate me… ***** “So what are we going to do about her classification?” Ariel asked “She's going to fight us,” Michelle replied, looking at her daughter. “We’ll need to ease her into headspace.” “How are we going to do that?” “I don’t know…” “Well love, I'll do some research online for you,” she said snuggling to her masters side. “I’ll make us all something to eat then,” she said, planting a kiss on her pet's lips, and giving her a quick hug. Before standing up and making her way to the kitchen. Ariel scooted next to Sarah looking down at her peacefully sleeping and sucking on her thumb. She gently rubbed the slumbering girl's back with a smile on her face. “You’re so adorable,” she said, leaning over and giving the girl a kiss on her cheek before walking out of the room. She went to her mistress's office and booted up the computer. As she waited for it tpo start up her thoughts fell to the small girl slumbering in the living room. She knew what her master would say. But she knew the truth. That girl's classification was her fault. A tear rolled down her cheek as she began to search online, printing out some guides from the classification bureau website. While those printed out she searched for ways to ease people into their headspaces. A half hour later the door opened inwards with a small click, Sarah walking in while rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Mamma?” “Hey my precious girl, did you have a good nap?” “Yes mamma,” she said, making grabby hands. Ariel smiled at the small girl, as she adorably reached out to be carried. Turning off the computer she picked up her daughter, carrying her on her hip. Sarah buried her face in the crook of her Mamma’s neck. Ariel walked to the kitchen to check on the food. “There's my two precious girls, hope was your nap sweetie.” “It was tay mommy,” she replied with a yawn. Michelle gave her pet a questioning look, who just shook her head and held up her fingers. Squeezing them close together. “Are you hungry sweetie?” “Yes mommy! Super hungry.” “Well you're just in time then,” her mom smiled. Ariel put her daughter in a chair and scooted her in, the small girl barely able to lean over the table. To eat the plate of food set before her. “Tanks mommy,” she said before digging in. The two women watched her eat, noticing that she seemed to be eating far clumsier than normal. Michelle had a smile on her face as her daughter ate with gusto. Their dinner passed in relative silence, their silverware clinked against their plates. “Alright sweetie, let's get you in a bath. I swear you got more on you than in you,” Michelle said when her daughter finished eating. Her face lit up in excitement and she started bouncing excitedly. “Bath?” “Yes sweetie, a bath.” “I’ll clean up the dinner dishes, Mistress.” “Thank you, you’re such a good girl,” she said, giving her pet a kiss and a pat on the head. “Alright munchkin, let's get you clean.” “Okay mommy,” she said, holding up her arms. Letting her mom pick her up and carry her out of the room. ***** “Alright I put our daughter to bed, so tell me Ariel, what's wrong?” “Wrong…?” “Yes since dinner you’ve been unnaturally quiet.” Her pet shifted awkwardly under her master's gaze. Her eyes flicked between her master's own and the ground. “Speak!” she commanded. “I’m so sorry,” she said, breaking out in tears. “Sorry for what?” “For what I did to Sarah. For what we did to her. It's my fault the poor girl is like this.” Michelle walked over to her pet, who flinched and shut her eyes. She sat there, apprehension building inside her. She felt the bed shift as her master sat down. Then a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around her. “It's not your fault.” “But Jason…” she started, before her master's finger silenced her. “How many times do I have to tell you that we don't talk about him. What he did has nothing to do with you. I wish you’d stop beating yourself up about it.” “But your daughter is a little because of him…” “We don't know that. And even if that were true it's still not your fault. No matter what you say. The courts themselves even said you did nothing wrong. So please stop beating yourself up.” “But…” “Do I have to make it a command?” “No ma’am, I'll try my best.” Michelle leaned back, pulling her pet along, and cuddling her. “We’re visiting my sister tomorrow and right now I just want to cuddle my pet.” “I love you mistress.” “I love you too darling.” The two women shared a kiss. Simply basking in each other's presence.

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

Chapter 16: As Anticipated It was amazing how many things could get lost all year in a locker. I stood in front of my locker with a backpack and a garbage bag in front of me on the floor, sorting out the contents of my locker one-by-one. Some of it got tossed in my backpack to keep. Most things went into the trash bag. The locker was now about halfway empty. By the end of the school year, the locker had reached its maximum capacity. I had already tossed more than a dozen long-lost pens and pencils into my backpack. I was sure I’d find another couple dozen by the time I was through with emptying the locker. There were a number of overdue library books I needed to bring to the school library before heading out on the bus, an inside-out, balled up jacket I had left once it had become too warm outside to need it. There were half-empty plastic water bottles, crumpled up papers from homework assignments, and textbooks that I thankfully would never need to ever open again. “You’re not finished yet?” Emma asked as she walked up next to me and stared into the abyss that was my locker. I shrugged as I tossed out a Spanish workbook that I wasn’t going to need again. It was true that my locker was fuller than most, but that hadn’t been the main reason for how long it was taking me to get it all emptied out. The conversation about bedwetting with my parents and sister yesterday evening had given me a lot to think about. The pills had proved to not be much of a problem. Yes, they had made it impossible to wet the bed in the middle of the night, as I would have preferred, but I didn’t have any difficulty peeing in bed once my alarm had woken me up in the morning. I was rather proud of how I had figured out a way to wake up early without disturbing the rest of my family. Waking up to an alarm blaring from an earbud wasn’t the ideal way to start the morning, but it gave me time to wet the bed and relax before getting ready for school. However, despite needing to pee in the morning, the puddle that had formed on the bed around my bottom was a lot smaller than any of the other times I had peed in the bed previously, proof that the medication had done its job of limiting my overnight urine output. Mom, of course, had been a bit disappointed when she woke me up. She made sure to clarify that she wasn’t unhappy with me in any way, but it was clear she had higher expectations for how the medicine would perform. She had very much been expecting to see dry sheets and pajamas in the morning. “Eww, is that what I think it is?” Emma pointed to a discolored plastic baggie that had been revealed when I had taken the book out of the locker. I grimaced as I looked down at what was likely the remnants of an unfinished lunch from months ago. That was one of the problems with my locker. I always intended to get stuff out again right away, but as soon as it became buried, it would slip completely out of my mind. Emma held her nose in disgust as I pinched the corner of the baggie and quickly deposited it into the garbage bag. I hoped there weren’t any additional baggies like that in the locker, but I was beginning to dread what I might end up discovering closer to the bottom. “So, about the all-nighter? What did your mom say about the sleepover?” Emma asked. I sighed and rolled my eyes. It was apparent that my friends were going to keep interrogating me until they got an answer. I answered the first half of that question truthfully. “Doing an all-nighter is a no-go. My parents don’t want us drinking all that caffeine and going crazy.” “That’s silly,” Emma said as she watched me continue to empty the locker. “We wouldn’t have any problem getting away with that at my place. My parents wouldn’t care one bit as long as we didn’t wake them up.” “Then we can go that later in the summer. Just don’t mention it to my mom.” “But, like, we’re still good for a regular sleepover next Friday on your birthday?” I paused a second before answering her question. I didn’t want to say that Mom hadn’t decided yet. That would just be an open invitation to unwelcome questions about what could have changed to make it so I couldn’t have sleepovers anymore. Besides, I was sure that I’d have access to pull-ups next week, which would allow Mom to say yes to my friends spending the night. “Of course.” “That’s good,” Emma said. “I’ll go let Angie know. She’s a lot closer to getting her locker cleaned up than you are. I’ll see you at lunch.” I watched as Emma darted off around the corner, weaving through all the other students who were busy getting their hallway lockers cleaned out for the year as well. Well, I was committed to the sleepover now, which meant I was going to need to get my parents to get me the pull-ups or risk an even more awkward conversation with my friends about how we weren’t actually going to have a sleepover next week. But it wasn’t time to ask my parents about pull-ups yet. There was still the doctor’s appointment to consider on Monday. That appointment had me worried. I didn’t like going to the doctor, even for normal yearly checkups. There was that weird thing they squeezed around my arm to take my pulse, which nearly sent me into a panic attack every time they did it. But apart from the normal poking and prodding, the worst of it was always the needles. At least this time, I could be confident that I wouldn’t need to get any new vaccinations. But what would the doctor make of my bedwetting? I felt confident that I had fooled my entire family so far. They hadn’t expressed a single inkling of doubt that my bedwetting was anything other than genuine. The idea of someone wetting the bed on purpose had to be so far out there that it probably wasn’t ever a scenario they had considered. But what would happen when I was examined by an actual doctor? What if there was something I had missed during my times of faking bedwetting, something I had gotten wrong that would indicate to them that something was not as it seemed? What if they ran all of their tests and determined that they couldn’t find anything wrong with me at all? Would they chalk it up to just a random fluke of genetics? Or would they begin to think something was amiss? On the other hand, the doctor’s appointment could prove useful to my quest to get pull-ups. Surely, they would be aware of that being an option for dealing with bedwetting. Perhaps they might even recommend it as a solution. That would be ideal. That way, I could still at least pretend that I wasn’t all that happy about wearing pull-ups. I had to keep in mind that I was supposed to be behaving like someone who wasn’t happy at all about having to suddenly deal with bedwetting. I resumed my inspection of the contents of my locker. To my great relief, I didn’t find any additional bags of moldy sandwiches. <><><> Despite my older sister’s warning about the side effects she had experienced when she had previously been taking this medication for her own bedwetting, I had felt perfectly fine all day long. I was tired after coming home from school, but that was just because I hadn’t gotten my usual amount of sleep. I hadn’t woken up at weird times in the middle of the night at all. Grace’s main complaint about the medication was that it had given her some extremely painful headaches. My head hadn’t hurt, and as far as I could tell, nothing else seemed to be off about my body. That hadn’t stopped me from constantly wincing and rubbing my head all morning – especially when Mom and Grace were around. I needed to give them as many reasons as possible to stop with the pills and try to move on to another solution. I continued with the act as Grace unlocked the front door to let me in. I groaned and rubbed my head as I eased my overly full backpack down onto the floor. “You feeling alright?” Grace asked. “How did it go last night?” I groaned again. “No, your stupid pills didn’t even work. The only thing they gave me was this lousy headache.” “That’s too bad,” Grace said. “Maybe you’ll have better luck tonight. Oh, and Mom left a note for you in the kitchen. She wanted to make sure you got your laundry done.” That was just great. Nothing like being reminded of additional chores the minute I was finally free from school and homework for the summer. Still, I knew better than to disobey, and this request suddenly gave me a good idea. There were still about twenty minutes until Jackson got home from school, enough time to try out something new I had been wanting to experience. I followed Grace as she walked up the stairs ahead of me. She’d be secluded in her bedroom again until it was time to walk over to the bus stop to collect my younger brother when he was dropped off later this afternoon. I grabbed my full laundry hamper and hauled it all the way to the laundry room in the basement. Yes, this was going to be perfect. Ever since I had discovered how much I had enjoyed wetting myself in bed earlier this week, I had been desperately curious to see what it would be like to do that in different situations. But there were a couple of challenges with trying out this new desire. The first was that there were very few places where I could easily pee my pants without causing a massive mess. Most of our house was carpeted. I didn’t even want to think about how much of a pain it would be to try to clean up that much urine out of the carpet. That left me with a few options. My bed, of course, worked perfectly because of the waterproof mattress. I considered peeing my pants with my clothes on in the bathtub but couldn’t bring myself to find that to be an acceptable option. It just felt too weird to urinate in a spot where I and the rest of my family would later be standing. That left the laundry room in the basement. Its cement floor would make clean-up easy. Plus, there was even a drain on the floor, so if I were to pee myself over that, clean-up would be even easier. That was far and away the best location, especially as I was not as likely to be interrupted, and it would be able to easily hear someone approaching from upstairs. Having decided on a location, there was still another major obstacle, which was that I was rarely left at home by myself. I was hoping that would change this summer now that I would be turning thirteen in a week. In previous summers, Mom had put Jackson in a daycare-like summer camp that he would go to most days for the entirety of summer break. As for me, my schedule had varied. There were day and overnight camps that I would get signed up for. When I wasn’t doing that, I was often spending the day at one of my friend’s places if a parent or older sibling happened to be home. But be allowed to stay at home all on my own? Absolutely not. I wasn’t sure how many good opportunities I would get to experiment with peeing my pants during the day, so I had to be ready to make the most of them when they did show up. The benefit of being in the basement was that I could easily tell where everyone else was in the house. I would be able to hear Grace’s footsteps the moment she started walking down the stairs to the main floor. I had to guess that she wasn’t going to be coming to the basement, but if she was, I would have ample warning to straighten things up quickly. I had worked extra hard to stay hydrated the last couple of hours at school in preparation for this possibility, but now I was wondering if I would be able to pull it off. I ran through the scenario once more in my head. I would change into an old pair of leggings from my hamper. I would stand in the corner of the laundry room where there was a drain in the floor. I would wet my pants there, where it would be easiest to clean up afterward. I would allow myself some time to enjoy the experience before using some of my other dirty clothes to dry off and mop up everything from the floor. Then, everything could be tossed in the washing machine, and no one else would have a clue what had happened once I had changed back into my regular clothes for the day. All so complicated. It would be a lot easier if I simply had a pull-up. I took off my leggings and replaced them with another pair from the laundry hamper. That was one of the strange things about this new interest. I didn’t have any desire to pee myself without any clothes on. I wondered why that was? With this new pair of leggings on, I positioned myself right over the small drain set into the cement floor. I listened carefully. There was no sound from my sister moving around upstairs. This would be another first for me. I had never peed myself while standing before. I assumed that it would be easier to do than while lying down. I spread my legs apart slightly and focused on trying to get my bladder to release. The bottom of my pants began to get warm, and then a warm, wet sensation began to run down both of my legs. It was exhilarating in a way I couldn’t define. Part of it was tied to the physical sensation of what I was doing, but there was something else as well. Was there a certain amount of excitement that came from doing something so socially forbidden? Like always, once I started, there was no stopping it at all. Not that I in any way wanted it to stop. I wished that this feeling could go on forever rather than just the thirty seconds that it would take for my bladder to fully empty. It had been every bit as enjoyable as I had anticipated all day long. The only problem was that it was over far too soon. I looked down at my feet. I knew I had forgotten something. I hadn’t taken off my socks, which were now soaked. For some reason, I had figured that the urine would just go straight through the bottom of my pants and stream onto the floor. I hadn’t considered that it my might run down my legs to my feet. Even then, the drain had proven to be quite effective, as there was only a small puddle remaining beneath me despite how much I had peed. With the sound of urine dripping onto the floor now over, I listened intently again for any movement upstairs. There was complete silence. At any moment now, Grace should head down to the front door to wait for Jackson. I looked back down at the puddle beneath my feet. Again, this would have been so much easier if I had been wearing a pull-up. I wouldn’t have even had to sneak downstairs. I could have done this in the comfort of my own bedroom. I thought back to that girl I had seen at the mall, the one who had been about Jackson’s age, getting her pull-up changed in the restroom. For a moment, I wished that was me. Faking bedwetting was one thing. Pulling that off was easy, given my sister’s history of bedwetting. And wearing pull-ups at night would be an easy secret to keep, even from my friends. But to have accidents during the day was something entirely else. That would call for a much more thorough investigation into what was going on with my body. Besides, I didn’t think I could survive the shame of having my parents, Grace, or Jackson, witness me wetting my pants during the day. And that would make my task of hiding pull-ups from my friends nearly impossible, not to mention what I would have to do at school. No, that wasn’t an option, despite how much I would enjoy being able to wet my pants at any moment whenever I wanted to. But I consoled myself with the possibility that once I got my hands on some pull-ups to wear at night, I could get away with wearing them occasionally during the day. The worst part of it was that I had to clean up right away, rather than continuing to stand in the corner in my wet clothes. The only good thing was that the mess was relatively easy to clean up. I wet some of my clothes in the sink next to the washing machine and used them to mop up the small puddle of urine that surrounded the drain. Satisfied that I’d managed to get everything cleaned up, I tossed the rest of my clothes in the washing machine – along with a large amount of detergent – and got it started before changing back into the leggings I had worn to school. The pounding of distant footsteps told me that Grace was now coming down the stairs to the main floor. I waited until I’d heard the front door slam shut before I made my way back upstairs. My heart was still racing as I shut the door to my bedroom behind me. With all of these new things to explore, this was going to be the best summer ever. I retrieved an old magazine from the bottom of the drawer beneath my bed and flipped instantly to the right page, my eyes fixated on a pair of special undergarments. If everything went right, in less than a week they would be mine. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

Chapter 13: It Feels Good I winced as I pulled the blaring earbud out of my ear. The left side of my head ached terribly. Perhaps that was the result of sleeping with an earbud all night long. Or maybe that was because of how unexpectedly loud my alarm had sounded when it had gone off like that. With my earbuds now laying harmlessly on the bed, the blaring alarm coming from them was only barely audible. It certainly wasn’t anywhere near loud enough to be heard from outside of my bedroom. I was almost stunned that my plan to wake up early had actually worked. And, with my alarm tied to my earbuds, I hadn’t woken up my family either. I yawned several times. It was another early morning for me. But, unlike when Chester had woken me up early yesterday, this time, it had at least been intentional. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to feel the effects of less sleep, though. I had another long day of end-of-year tests, which I wasn’t looking forward to in the least. Well, it wasn’t so much the tests that I wasn’t looking forward to, but what my report card would be saying when my parents checked my grades online later. The hard part was over, at least. I was awake. I had plenty of time until I was actually supposed to be up for school. All I had to do now was to wet the bed intentionally. The one good thing was that I did need to pee. It didn’t matter that I’d had less to drink yesterday or that I’d used the toilet right before getting into bed. A nearly full night of sleep was still enough for my bladder to fill up again. The need to go wasn’t super urgent. I likely wouldn’t have had an issue with going back to sleep and waiting to use the toilet when getting up for school at a normal time. I remained under my covers as I rolled over to lie flat on my stomach. The noise of the bed crinkling beneath me served as a reminder of last night’s conversation with my parents and the mattress swap afterward. For a few brief, wonderful moments last night, I had thought that I had managed to convince my parents to get pull-ups, but for whatever reason, they seemed to think this was a better way to manage my bedwetting, at least for now. I had to remind myself that I had only begun the bedwetting plan on Friday evening, and it was now Wednesday morning. Not even a week had passed. I had to admit that it wasn’t reasonable to expect pull-ups that quickly. This new mattress had come as a complete surprise. That didn’t mean there weren’t some obvious benefits to the waterproof mattress. I wouldn’t have to work so hard to clean things up after an accident. No need to go and grab paper towels, cleaning sprays, and baking soda. I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about possibly ruining my mattress. It also meant that it wouldn’t matter if the accident wasn’t cleaned up immediately. There wouldn’t be any worries about the urine soaking into the mattress, to the point of being impossible to get rid of the smell and stains. I suspected that it wouldn’t be likely that I’d be able to fall back to sleep afterward, but I could at least feign sleep until Mom came to wake me up. I wasn’t looking forward to her seeing the result of the bedwetting – I had at least avoided having her witness my wet pajamas since that first fake bedwetting accident on Friday evening. I had to make sure the accident looked natural. It was one thing for Mom or Grace to see my wet bed in the middle of the night, when they were probably groggy and their faculties may not be fully working. It was something else in the bright morning light. The easiest way to do that would be to actually pee myself while lying down this time, rather than while lying down in bed, but to do that, I would need to get past whatever mental block had been making it difficult for me to urinate while my bottom wasn’t hovering over a toilet. I still had plenty of time. There were another forty minutes until I was supposed to be up. And, if I pretended that I had slept past my alarm, that probably gave me another five to ten minutes past that before Mom would come in and check on me. I rotated through a couple of different mental exercises as I attempted to convince my bladder that it was OK to pee. I tried thinking about rain, rivers, and dripping faucets, but unlike the two nights when I had been kneeling over the bed, that wasn’t enough, though I did feel my bladder getting closer to the point of release. Next, I tried to picture myself seated on the toilet, thinking about the sensation of sitting on the cold plastic toilet seat, but I didn’t think my bladder found that mental image to be all that convincing while I was lying on my stomach. I strained my muscles as much as I could. I came so close, but it still wasn’t enough to get the floodgates to open. Ten minutes had already passed by. I knew that in the worst-case scenario I would simply emulate how I had wet the bed those first to nights, but I wanted more than anything to do it the right way for once. There was more to that desire than wanting to make sure my mom was convinced it was a legitimate bedwetting accident. I wanted to know what it felt like to wet the bed. Perhaps the problem was with how I was lying on my stomach, with how my bladder was pressed up against the bed. But instead of sitting up completely, I slid my arms under my chest so that my waist was just an inch or two off of my sheets. It was a small difference, but it proved to be exactly what I needed. I put all my concentration into getting my bladder to release, and a minute later, I began to pee. The warm urine quickly began to stream through my underwear and cotton shorts. A few seconds later, I lowered myself back onto the bed as my bladder continued to empty. Like the other two times I had peed the bed, once I had started, there was no stopping it, not even after adjusting into a position where I had previously not been able to get my bladder to release. It was a vastly different experience to wet myself while lying down rather than doing it while kneeling over my bed. My shorts and even my shirt got significantly wetter as the urine pooled beneath me. This is where the difference of having a waterproof mattress became clear. As the urine wasn’t able to soak into the mattress, that meant it instead soaked further and further through my sheets and pajamas, in a large wet spot with my waist at the epicenter. When I finally stopped peeing another twenty seconds later, I was wet all the way from my knees to the middle of my chest. My previous attempts at wetting the bed had felt a bit awkward and embarrassing. This was different. My heart was racing, but not from being afraid. There was a sense of exhilaration. Why was that? Was it because I had wet myself in a more realistic way? It certainly felt more real to pee while lying down than to do it how I had done it before. The sensation of laying in urine-soaked pajamas and sheets should have been off-putting, but it wasn’t. The warm sensation surrounding me felt comforting in a way I couldn’t explain. I laid as still as I possibly could under the sheets. I was left to ponder how it would feel when all of that warmth and wetness was instead contained by the pull-up. <><><> “Maddy. Maddy. It’s time to wake up.” My eyes flickered open and then shut right away again. I was in bed, but something felt really off. I turned my head to the sound of Mom’s voice. Everything beneath me was damp and clammy. The exhilaration of the bedwetting incident had faded away along with the warmth. Given Mom’s calm reaction so far, the urine must not have soaked upwards through my sheets or cover. From her vantage point, everything must have appeared dry. “At least you made it through the night,” Mom said. “I suppose we didn’t need the new mattress tonight after all, but still, it will be good to have it as a precaution until we’re sure this bedwetting phase is over.” There was no escaping from Mom finding out about the bedwetting. I mean, she had to find out, but what was the best way to do it? I didn’t want to be forced to tell her about it, but the alternative, throwing off my covers and revealing just exactly how big of a mess I’d made in bed, was embarrassing as well. I resisted her request to get out of bed and pulled the cover tighter over my body. “Just a few more minutes.” “Madelyn, seriously, you’re going to miss the bus if you don’t get your bottom out of bed right now.” “But Mom…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence, to admit having wet the bed. Mom’s expression shifted as she walked back toward the bed. “Is something wrong?” “Um.” What else was I supposed to say? But it didn’t really matter. I was sure my face was giving away how embarrassed I was feeling again. Mom reached down and gave my cover and sheets a gentle tug that was enough to reveal the reality of what lay beneath them. “Oh, Maddy.” Mom sighed as she looked down at me. I looked away from Mom, down at the massive wet patch beneath me. It was even bigger than I had imagined in my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it happened until you woke me up.” “It’s alright,” Mom said. “Let’s just focus on getting you ready for school.” I slid gingerly out of bed. I decided that as much as I liked the immediate aftermath of wetting myself in bed, I didn’t care as much for how things felt once everything cooled off. Mom gave me a careful hug, making sure to not press up against the wet spots on my pajamas. “I’ll take care of getting everything cleaned up. Just toss your wet pajamas on the bed and head to the shower.” Mom retreated to the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind her and giving me some momentary privacy to get undressed. I stripped out of my wet clothes and tossed them on the bed. How many more nights and mornings like this was it going to take? <><><> By the time I was dressed and out of the shower, all my bedding had been stripped and taken to the laundry room. The light-blue mattress was a strange look in the middle of my bedroom. There wasn’t anyway but to admit that it was an effective method for handling bedwetting. Nothing further was said about the bedwetting incident. Mom handed me a cup of yogurt for breakfast. From the kitchen, I could hear the washing machine running down in the basement. If Grace or Jackson had noticed all the laundry Mom had taken downstairs, neither of them made any mention of it, either. I finished off the small can of yogurt in record speed and then grabbed my backpack and headed toward the front door to wait for the bus. I would be able to see it coming off in the distance, so there wasn’t any need to leave the house until it was in sight. There was a pile of mail near the front door that had been brought in last night that hadn’t been yet been sorted. On top of it was another copy of Reader’s Digest. Recently, there was a new ad for the bedwetting pull-ups about every other issue. I had assumed that Mom must have seen the advertisement at some point or another. I wasn’t as sure that she had ever used these pull-ups with my sister, but I had hoped that all the advertising would have given her the idea that this could be an option to use with me. But maybe she just skimmed past the ad without looking at the finer details. The size range for the pull-ups was in small print, after all. There had to be something I could do to get her to take a closer look at the advertisement without letting her know that I was behind it. With the bus seemingly running a few minutes behind schedule, an idea came up for something I could put into motion before I headed off to school. Everyone else was still in the kitchen. The bus wasn’t in sight yet. My affinity for the magazine was already well known by my parents. Since they viewed it as educational, it wouldn’t stand out as suspicious if they came across me reading through it. I leaned back against the wall as quickly skimmed through the magazine. To my good luck, the ad for the bedwetting pull-ups appeared smack in the middle of the magazine. But how could I make sure it got Mom’s attention this time? A few ideas floated in my head. I could slightly crinkle the edges of a few pages – the pull-up ad included – so that when Mom was skimming through the magazine, she would be more likely to stop on it. But that didn’t feel like enough to actually get her attention. I could leave the magazine open to this page, but face down. On the opposite page was the start of a story I could plausibly be interested in. But would that be too much? I thought I could pass it off as believable. And I could always feign some initial discomfort at the idea of pull-ups when my parents did bring it up as an option. I pretended to read the magazine, though really all I was doing was taking in the image of the pull-up on the page, reading through all the features — five-layer protection, double leg barriers, the ability to absorb three cups of liquid. That last bit of information seemed most relevant to my case. I had peed a lot in each of the bedwetting accidents, but certainly not much. It gave me hope that the pull-ups would work for me when the time to wear them finally arrived. A minute later, I caught sight of the yellow bus off in the distance. I hastily set the magazine face down on the table, hoping that it would at last catch Mom’s attention when she opened it up later. --- 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/

Hey! I’m new here, well kinda… have been lurking in the shadows for years 😆. Becca, reading your story has really been inspiring for me. I’m another female, who is in her early thirties. For probably the better of 10 years I’ve toyed with the idea of going 24/7, but kept getting stuck when it came to leaving my house, coupled with the usual shame etc that everyone has had. Despite all of my breaks, the binge purge cycles, I still can’t shake wanting to transition to 24/7. I wore all through Covid, and I actually wear at home 90% of the time now, but get stage fright leaving my house. But I can feel it in my bones that I’m ready to make the change. Reading your thread here has helped me decide that I’m going to try and go the 24/7 route and just stick with it. I have a large collection of stuff anyway so I’m more than prepared and now I feel just a little less alone. thank you so much for sharing!!!

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

Who else had a long Thursday? Not much here tonight. I had some bigger moments planned, but that would just be pushing the story along too fast. I think this brings the chapter the right conclusion, and more is ahead for them. ________________________________________ Chapter 13, Part 4 (the last part of the chapter) When they got back home, they emptied out the car into the driveway to shake out the sand before putting things away. “Why don’t you go wait in your room while we take care of this. You look a little overheated,” Becky said. He did feel flushed. He wasn’t sunburnt, but he did have a glow, felt more than seen. The sun, the saltwater, the exercise. He felt drowsy. “He had quite a day,” Amanda said, “And so did we.” “I think I’m at least as tired as he is,” Becky replied. “Did Jane say anything about him?” “Not really. Other than thinking he’s the cutest Little boy she’s ever seen, but she’d say that no matter who we brought home.” “I’m glad you have good friends, Mom.” “Do you think Rosie had fun?” “I think she has fun anywhere, but if you’re asking if she had fun with Jamie, yeah. But I don’t think she seems him as her peer.” Setting down the chairs in the basement, Becky groaned, “Ough! I just want to get this salt off me.” She stretched her arms toward the ceiling and yawned. Amanda knew how hard a day it had been for her mom. An emotional gut punch in so many ways. What happened next wasn’t clear to Amanda, so she knew it wasn’t clear to her mom. Like she had said, ‘play it by ear.’ For her own part, Amanda wasn’t troubled by the day; she was comfortable with the uncertainty, but then, she knew most of what they discussed that day. For her mom, it was a mix of the old and hurtful and the new and worse. “Go take a shower. I’ll get Jamie cleaned up.” “Thanks. How about just salad for dinner? I’ll fix it while you’re in the shower.” “Sounds perfect. I feel too drained for anything hot.” They walked up the stairs together, and Becky went up the second floor while Amanda went to Jamie’s room. He was sitting his chair with his eyes half closed trying to read his book and struggling to concentrate and comprehend. Amanda’s nose twitched. “Did you save that just for me? How very thoughtful of you.” Jamie knew what she was reference. As a matter of fact, he thought, I did. “You know the routine.” He pulled himself out of his chair, and Amanda scooped him up and placed him on the changing table in nearly one movement. “Let’s just stirp you now. Arms up.” She pulled off his t-shirt, unbuckled and removed his sandals, and pulled off his shorts. “Did you have a good day, buddy?” She opened up the tub of wipes and placed one on his forehead and used another to wipe the warmth and stickiness from his face. “Ooh, that feels good. It was a great day. Thanks so much.” He paused, holding the wipe, no longer cool, over his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” “Aww. Buddy,” she said as she leaned in, “I’d fall to pieces without you.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s get that yucky diaper off you and then how about a cool bath.” Jamie was too tired to help much, so Amanda did the heavy lifting. These times were becoming the time when they had important conversations. He already felt vulnerable but safe. “How come you didn’t tell me Rosie was regressed?” “What do you mean by regressed?” “I mean … you know what I mean. She has the mind of a toddler.” “Rose came here only slightly regressed.” “You mean she chose to be regressed further?” “No. She just … became that way, over time. I think she reached this point maybe after five years.” “But, how?” All clean, she carried him naked to the bathroom and filled the tub; he settled into the lukewarm water. “I think you misunderstand. She’s developmentally no different than when she came here. She just behaves like that.” That made less sense. Jamie wasn’t sure if his next question should be why or how. “But, how?” “She chose to, or chooses to. I’m not sure which.” “So she’s faking it?” “No. She … what makes you think she’s acting like a toddler?” Jamie’s face showed how obvious the answer was. “Uh, the way she talks; that she spent most of the morning making a pile of sand; the way she seems … I don’t know … not fully aware of what’s going on around her.” “Exactly. Other stuff, too, if you’re around her often enough. I think she just …” This was hard to put into words. “Got over it?” “Got over what?” “Over … not being the way she is now. Her life got simpler, he needs and wants got simpler. She doesn’t have any inhibitions; she’s honest to a fault. She has fun building a pile of sand … Tell you the truth, I wish my toys were that cheap,” she quipped. “I guess she found out she was happier this way and slowly became that way.” “You make it sound like she devolved.” “Why do you think that’s devolved?” “Because she went backward. I mean, she lost her … you know what I mean.” “If she is the way she is because it makes her happy, that’s not backward. That’s forward. And I think it’s more of an evolution. Like she became wise enough to let go of everything except the stuff that makes her happy.” That was a new way for Jamie to think about it. Amanda washed him all over. As much as he liked the sea, by the end of the day he always felt like between the sand, the sweat and the salt he had a layer of grime to peel off. “And I think she can turn it on and off.” “How does that work?” “Well, she’s as smart as she ever was. Nothing has changed physically in her brain. Every once in a while, you see her making a face like she’s … her old self. I think she found a way to be happy and likes it, and she can snap back to being her old self whenever she wants to. She doesn’t want to.” Amanda paused and looked up to her left for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe she does, just only when she and Jane are alone.” Jamie looked surprised and fascinated. “How does someone do that? Just … stop being an adult – mentally? Just, turn off the thoughts, lose the inhibitions?” Amanda was done washing Jamie. “I don’t know. If I did, I’d probably do it sometimes, too.” “You would?” “How many dozen ways to people try to let go, take the edge off? And how many of those are dangerous? And none of them completely work. Her way … it works. She’s been peaced out for seven years.” They both sat there and pondered it, both looking a little wistful. “Can you please turn the cold water back on?” She leaned over and did, and Jamie stuck his head under it and ran his hands through his hair a few times. “You ready to get out?” He exhaled. “Yes.” Amanda leaned over and pulled the plug, then took the towel from the bar and opened it up wide. Jamie stood, and in one motion she wrapped him up and lifted him to the sink. “Can I comb your hair for you?” “Hmmh.” She always did. She carried him back to his room in the towel and set him back down on the changing table. “Any preference on PJs tonight?” Jamie still felt flush from the sun. “Um,” he blushed, “Maybe just some shorts?” He’d had gone with less, but he didn’t like sporting just a diaper, or at least was embarrassed to admit he was fine that way. When he was dressed, she put him on his feet. “Mom’s in the kitchen. Why don’t you go hang out with her while I take my own shower?” “Okay.” She headed upstairs, and he went to the kitchen. “Hi, Becky.” She was chopping vegetables. “Hey, baby. Looking handsome tonight.” He pulled himself into a chair; he was getting stronger thanks to Cheryl’s gifts. “Thanks again for today. I had a really good time.” “Good! I’m glad to hear you say that. Where did you learn to swim like that?” “Day camp.” Every summer, he’d get put in day camp at the city park. The morning would spent on some activity, and then the afternoons were spent at the pool. Most of the kids played on the slides and lazy river. Jamie liked the lap pool. It wasn’t so crowded, and he could play with other kids in it except during adult swim periods. He figured out, though, that if he swam laps, too, then the lifeguards wouldn’t make him get out unless an adult wanted the lane. And he wanted to stay in the water all the time. When he couldn’t stay in, he watched the adults swimming and tried to do what they did. Four hours a day, five days a week, 12 weeks a year from when he was old enough to not be in daycare until he was 16. And then whoever he was staying with at the time would come pick him up. “I don’t think I could swim like that.” Jamie figured she could. That’s how water works. The longer the swimmer, or the longer the boat, the faster it goes. Maybe there was something else about Bigs’ anatomy, like they were too dense, not as buoyant as humans. “Have you ever tried?” “Well, I guess I haven’t.” They heard the shower turn on upstairs. “Maybe you should try. Or you’ll never know what you can do.” Becky chuckled at this Little who knew so much about life. She looked in the fridge. “We have pureed fruit, pureed vegetables, pureed chicken, and pureed … nope, that all we got.” So the same thing as the past however many meals, Jamie thought. He was looking forward to being able to eat solids again. “I’m not very hungry tonight.” “Oh no? You feeling okay?” “Yeah.” She bent down in front of him and place her palm on his forehead. “I think you got a little too much sun today.” “Feels like it. I have a headache too.” “Did you get enough to drink today?” “I think so. Just very bright. I’m not used to not wearing sunglasses outside.” “Then we’ll have to get you some. But you gotta eat something tonight. I can get out the blender and make anything you want.” Nothing makes food taste better than being pulverized into mush. He didn’t look like he wanted to even choose, and Becky noticed. “I have an idea. How about some of that formula. I can put some ice in it. I know you love that stuff.” Jamie perked up. He did love that stuff; how it could taste so good and keep him so contented, he didn’t know. He missed it, though he thought she was feeding it to him at night, and somehow he wasn’t waking up. “That sounds really good, actually.” “Comin’ right up.” Becky went to the cabinet and looked at the cups and containers. She wanted to bottle feed him. She loved that time with him; it felt so right. Sharing a meal brings people together, but feeding your Little was a whole other level of intimacy. She envied the people who breastfed their Littles, but she also remembered how unpleasant that was. She also remembered everything she and Amanda had talked about, about letting him lead the way and seeing what he liked and what he didn’t and helping him to find his own way. She sighed, picked a bottle and a sippy cup out of the cabinet and turned to Jamie. “Which one do you want?” Jamie surprised himself by not being sure. His pride said sippy cup (or it did, given the choices), but like he had that day after swimming, leaning back against Becky while she held a bottle to her lips felt good. It just did. It was comfortable, and it made him feel close to her, and he knew she liked it. And he felt he owed her for the day, so they both got what they wanted. Jamie blushed and pointed to the bottle. Becky tried to hide a smile. “It’s getting a bit late, and Amanda’s gonna be in the shower a while.” “She’s kinda a water hog.” Becky laughed and then laughed harder. Jamie hadn’t meant it as a joke; it just came out because it was true. Becky’s belly laugh made Jamie laugh until they both had tears running down their cheeks. “He swims, and he’s funny!” Jamie blushed. “I was gonna say how about I feed you instead of us waiting for her?” Jamie noticed the sun was going down. It was late, later than he normally stayed up, but then he’d slept longer than he did most afternoons. “Works for me.” “How about in the living room? I’ll be there in a minute.” Jamie climbed down and went into the living room. Climbing up on to the couch was harder. Unlike the chair, it gave way when he grabbed handful of cushion. He’d work on that, but for now he chose the floor and laid himself back on it. The carpet fibers actually felt good against his bare back. Becky came in with the bottle and two cloths this time, both wet. He got up when she came in, and she sat down on the couch. She pulled him up and into her lap, then pivoted so she was reclining against the arm and he was reclining against her. “Put your head back, baby.” He did, and she put one of the folded wet cloths on his forehead. “Feel better?” It did. She took the other one and laid it flat against his chest. He writhed a bit, the coolness of it electrifying his skin, but soothing it too. He closed his eyes. Becky picked up the bottle and held it to his lips. He latched on and drank very slowly. Becky ran her free hand through his still-wet hair. It felt so soft to her. He was getting a little shaggy, she realized; he needs a haircut soon. She took the cloth from his forehead and turned it over the cool side, pressing it over his eyes, behind his ears, his cheeks, his neck, the tops of his shoulders, and then his belly. She saw his heartbeat slow; she could always see it in his tummy when he laid back, a steady, healthy beat. His head slumped a bit, and his breathing slowed. He drank still, but slow, too. She brought her hand back to his hair and played with it. Amanda appeared in the living room. Becky held a finger to her lips. Amanda looked dismayed. “Mom,” she whispered, “We talked about this today.” Becky looked up at her briefly and then back to sleeping Little boy in her lap, her hands still playing with his so-soft hair. “I asked; this is what he wanted tonight.” “Oh! Sorry.” Amanda smiled down at the tableau. She looked happy, and he looked peaceful. She knelt next to the couch, first kissing her mom on the check and then stroking his soft face with the back of her fingers. “I love it when he’s like this.” Amanda sighed and stood back up. Becky took the empty bottle from Jamie’s lips. “I can go put him down while you finish getting dinner ready,” Amanda offered. “Or you can put him down and I’ll get it on the table.” Still playing with hair gently massaging his scalp, Becky shook her head softly. “Not yet. Why don’t you get started without me? I want to stay like this a while.” Amanda understood that perfectly, and she was glad to give the two of them this moment alone. Jamie and Becky hadn’t actually been in each other’s arms much. It made Amanda happy to see them this way. She went to the kitchen to eat alone.

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

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.