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Chapter 20: Euphemisms Mesmerized by what I was seeing, I watched Hannah swing for another minute. Once Emma had gotten her cousin started with a push, Hannah didn’t have any issues maintaining her momentum on the swing set. Hannah swung her legs back and forth in a rhythm that kept her flying high into the sky each time she swung toward me. Every time Hannah was vaulted up into the air by the swing, the wind seemed to catch her skirt without fail, lifting it up enough to give me a brief glimpse of what I was by now one hundred percent certain was a pull-up. I wondered if Hannah knew how little her outfit did to conceal the pull-up and if that was something that concerned her in any way. Emma was standing next to me in front of the swing set, but she had pulled out her phone and was tapping away at it. If Emma had gotten a glimpse of her cousin’s undergarments, she didn’t say anything to me. Despite the suspicion that I had heard some crinkling from Hannah as we walked to the park, I was still somewhat surprised to find that Hannah was wearing a pull-up. Emma’s tale about Hannah wetting herself on the couch – and her statement that she thought Hannah ought to be put back in diapers during the day as well as at night – had made it appear as though Hannah hadn’t been wearing any daytime protection. But I was certain my eyes hadn’t deceived me. I had accepted Emma’s statement about Hannah’s bedwetting without thinking too hard on the matter. After all, my sister had wet the bed until she was my age, and it was clear from the advertisements I’d seen that pull-ups were sold for bedwetters the same age as Hannah and me. So, finding out that a thirteen-year-old girl was still wetting the bed – though unusual – wasn’t a surprise. And, from what I’d learned recently in conversations with my parents and Grace, there seemed to be some clear medical explanations for why a kid my age could experience bedwetting. But this – a girl my age needing to wear a pull-up during the day – was something altogether different to consider. It was like that five- or six-year-old girl I had seen getting her pull-up changed at the mall last week, another shock to my preconceptions about pull-ups and who used them. But why? That was the question I couldn’t escape. Why would a girl my age have difficulty controlling her bladder while she was awake? I wanted to pee my pants, and even trying to get my body to do it intentionally took an insane amount of effort. Using the toilet was natural, and it took a lot of convincing to get my body to do otherwise. So, what was the deal with Hannah? I looked around the playground. It had been several years since I had lost interest in running through it. We weren’t the only people using the playground by far. There were a couple of younger kids on swings further down the line on the swing set, and behind us on the playground, and another dozen or so from toddlers to kids a couple years younger than others running around on different play sets and equipment. I cringed a little as Hannah’s skirt lifted up to flash her pull-up again. I found myself getting embarrassed at the thought of what anyone else at the park would think of Hannah – and by association, Emma and me – if they were to notice that Hannah was wearing a pull-up, and about the derogatory word Emma had used to describe her cousin on the way to the park. As my parents had explained from their own experience, bedwetting was a normal thing that could happen to any kid, so while it was still embarrassing to have my family view me as a bedwetter, I could handle that as it allowed me to get pull-ups for myself. I remember that Emma had mentioned that her cousin had autism as if that was a one-size-fits-all explanation for all of her strange behavior. That had to be the explanation for why the girl wasn’t smart enough to use the toilet, despite being a teenager. “Alight, she’s good now. Come on,” Emma said, looking up from her phone. “She’s perfectly fine playing by herself.” We walked a short way from the playground to a nearby soccer field that wasn’t being used. I sat down on the grass and switched over from my tennis shoes to the soccer cleats I had brought along in my bag. I considered the possibility of taking a pull-up or two from Hannah once we got back to Emmah’s house. If I hadn’t already begun my bedwetting plan, I was sure I could have arranged to spend the night at their place. That would have been a perfect chance to get some pull-ups and learn more about why Hannah needed them. But with my parents now thinking I was a bedwetter, and with them not having gotten me any pull-ups yet, that wasn’t an option. Besides, as impatient as I was getting for pull-ups – seeing another girl my age wearing them wasn’t helping – I felt certain that I would be getting some from my parents soon, so unless the perfect opportunity presented itself, it wasn’t worth risking it to get any from Hannah. These soccer fields were currently set up for elementary-age kids, so the soccer goals were a lot smaller than the full-sized ones we typically played on. But that worked well for playing simple games of one-on-one and for practicing being more accurate with our shots. It was a shame that Angie wasn’t around, as she would have been able to play goalie for us. Instead, Emma and I took turns attempting to block each other’s shots. I dribbled the soccer ball out past the penalty box, which, like the goal, was proportionally smaller than the field we played our games on. Emma positioned herself in the middle of the goal, a few feet off of the line. Behind her, Hannah was having fun by herself on the playground. She had moved on from the swing set. Now she was busy climbing on a massive, circular jungle gym. Twisting through the different rings and levels until she was near the top of the structure. I pushed the ball ahead of me to the right with the outside of my right foot before stepping ahead to line up a shot. I pulled my leg back as far as I could before swinging it forward. I wasn’t going to give Emma a chance to stop it from going into the net. In the distance, Hannah had reached the top of the jungle gym. Even from as far away as I was, it was still obvious that she wasn’t wearing normal underwear. That made me even more curious. Emma hadn’t seemed to have had any reservations in talking about all the issues she had with her cousin. I couldn’t see how Emma could have been unaware of her cousin wearing a pull-up. That brief moment of taking my eye off the goal caused me to send the shot well over the top. The soccer ball sailed in the air. “Seriously,” Emma said. “You would have missed that by a ton, even on a regular-sized goal.” I groaned and jogged past Emma. It was my responsibility to retrieve the ball since I had missed the shot. Hannah saw me approaching and slid down from on top of the jungle gym. She jogged up to grab the soccer ball, which had rolled a few feet onto the rubber surface of the playground. “I want to play soccer now,” she said, starting to walk with me toward the soccer field. I really wanted to say no. But Hannah hadn’t even phrased it as a question. By the time I had managed to think of a somewhat polite way to tell her to go back to the playground, we were already nearly back to the soccer field. Emma had taken advantage of the break to grab a water bottle from her bag. She had just finished drinking from it when Hannah and I returned. “Can I have some of your water?” Hannah asked her cousin. Emma pointed to the other side of the playground. “Go get something from the drinking fountain over there.” “I tried it. It’s too cold,” Hannah whined. “It makes my teeth hurt. Can I have yours instead?” “Fine,” Emma said. She didn’t look happy about it, but she handed the water bottle to Hannah nonetheless. Hannah pushed open the cap, and then raised the water bottle right up to her mouth, placing her lips on it. “No, no, no,” Emma said, snatching the bottle out of her cousin’s grip. “Don’t be gross. I don’t want your germs on my water bottle.” Hannah stomped both of her feet on the ground. “That’s not fair. I need something to drink.” I winced at the sound of her high-pitched whining, but I wasn’t going to offer her my water bottle. I didn’t want anyone’s germs on it, either. “You can have my water bottle,” Emma said. “But you need to pour the water into your mouth.” Hannah crossed her arms. “I can’t do that. It will spill.” Emma tilted her head back and demonstrated for her cousin, pouring water from the bottle into her mouth without having her lips touch it. “That’s how you do it.” Emma handed the water bottle back to her cousin. Hannah hesitantly raised the bottle in the air, but she didn’t have it aimed correctly at her mouth. When she squeezed the water bottle to get a drink, the water instead sprayed all across her face and dripped down onto her shirt. Emma looked as though she was having a hard time suppressing a laugh as she watched her cousin struggle to line up the water bottle for another attempt at taking a drink. The second attempt didn’t go any better than the first. And now Hannah’s face and shirt were all wet. “I can’t do it,” Hannah pouted. She looked like she was going to start crying. “Fine,” Emma said. “Drink it however you want. You can have the rest of it.” Hannah raised the bottle to her lips and sucked on it almost like a sippy up. “See what I have to deal with,” Emma said to me quietly. “She whines like a baby when she doesn’t get what she wants. If I hadn’t given her the water bottle, she would have been tattling on me to my mom and aunt when we got home.” “All done,” Hannah announced. She handed the now-empty water bottle back to Emma. “Why don’t you go back to the playground,” Emma said. “Maddy and I are going to play soccer for a little while more, and then we will head back home.” “I can play soccer, too,” Hannah said. I watched as Emma started to say something and then bit her lip. I remembered what she had said just earlier about how she was supposed to be accommodating to her cousin. “Yes, that would be nice,” Emma said flatly. “Awesome!” Hannah yelled. She walked up to one of the soccer balls and kicked it toward the goal, putting it straight down the middle. Hannah turned around proudly toward us. “See.” “Yeah, and I would have blocked it if I was playing goalie,” Emma said with a wave of her hand. We decided to play a game called World Cup. The rules were simple. One person would guard the goal while the other two players competed against each other to score a goal. Whoever scored had to take the next turn at playing goalie. The game started off with Emma standing in the goal. She threw the ball out toward the middle of the field, and Hannah and I raced off to get it. Hannah was unexpectedly fast for how awkward her running form was. She made it to the ball first and began to turn to dribble back toward the goal. I backpedaled a little as I kept myself in front of Hannah, waiting for her to lose control so I could step in and easily poke the ball away from her. But, to my surprise, she was handling the ball much better than I had anticipated. Still, as she neared the top of the penalty box, I swung my foot forward, thinking I was going to get an easy steal, but instead of making contact with the ball, my cleated foot swung harmlessly through the air, and I nearly lost my balance. I didn’t know how Hannah had managed to evade me, but I turned to see her spinning past me, all while maintaining perfect control of the soccer ball with her feet. She took a shot at the goal and put it past Emma and into the corner of the net. She jumped up and down in celebration, again showing off the pull-up she was wearing. Emma started laughing at me. “I can’t believe you fell for that move.” “You’re the one who let it in the goal,” I retorted. “Only cause I was too distracted by you spinning in a circle.” I made Emma pay for that comment by stealing the ball from her and getting a goal of my own. Hannah’s goalkeeping skills weren’t anywhere near the level of her dribbling, so that wasn’t as much of a challenge. We continued our game for another twenty minutes or so, though the question of who was the winner was never really in doubt. Hannah had easily scored more goals than either Emma or me. It made more sense when she mentioned that she played the forward position on her school team back in Illinois. After scoring another goal, it was my turn to guard the goal while the two cousins faced off against each other again. I punted the ball gently, sending it out for them to chase after it. Hannah again reached the ball first and managed to keep it away from her cousin until she was closer to the goal. Hannah sidestepped deftly past Emma, but before Hannah could get the shot off, Emma shoved Hannah off of the ball with her hip, causing Hannah to fall to the ground. I was so caught off guard by the move that I wasn’t ready for Emma’s shot, which sailed past me untouched into the goal. Emma did an exaggerated celebration, sliding down on her knees on the grass. The way she had been so aggressive toward her cousin shocked me. No hard fouls was one of the unspoken rules we had when we were practicing. As Hannah lay on the ground for a moment, I got a much closer look at her pull-up than before. It did appear as though she had managed to keep it dry so far. After a few seconds, Hannah stood up awkwardly, brushing off her skirt as she did so. Beep. Beep. Beep. The timer on Hannah’s watch began to go off. Unlike when we had been back at Emma’s house, Hannah didn’t rush off to use the restroom. She tapped frantically at her watch, finally getting the alarm to shut off. Hannah got into position next to me as Emma grabbed the ball to walk toward the goal. Emma looked over at her cousin. “Aren’t you going to take your potty break?” “I can wait until we’re home,” Hannah insisted. “Hannah,” Emma said. “Your mom did tell me to make sure that you went if your watch went off while we were out.” Hannah glanced over at the center of the park. “I’m not going in a porta potty. Those are gross.” “Whatever,” Emma said. “I suppose you are wearing a diaper today, so it doesn’t matter if you pee your pants.” “I’m wearing a skirt, not pants,” Hannah said. “And they’re absorbent underwear, not a diaper. Only babies wear diapers, and I’m not a baby.” I recognized the euphemism from how the pull-ups were often described in the advertisements I had seen. I had always found the phrase to be really silly. Who would actually think those undergarments were underwear rather than just another version of a diaper? “Whatever,” Emma muttered quietly, rolling her eyes after turning away from her cousin. “Same difference.” Emma returned to stand in front of the goal before again through the ball out for Hannah and me to chase. We went through a few more rounds before deciding it was time to head back home. Emma and I sat down to change from our cleats back to our tennis shoes for the walk back to her house. Hannah was still dribbling a soccer ball absentmindedly in the field behind us. “Are you free to do anything else this afternoon?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what answer I wanted. There was part of me that was curious about Hannah’s need for pull-ups and another part of me that really didn’t want to spend any more time around that weirdo than was necessary. “Sorry, we’ve got plans to do stuff with Hannah’s family this evening,” Emma said. “But we could do something tomorrow.” “What are we doing tomorrow?” Hannah had snuck back up on us completely unnoticed. “We could play soccer again. Please?” “I think it is supposed to be raining tomorrow,” I said, as we started to walk down the path out of the park. “Then we can stay inside and watch a Harry Potter movie.” “That would be fun,” I said automatically, without thinking about it. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I saw Emma just glare at me. I then remembered how she had warned me not to bring that topic up. What followed was an incredibly detailed interrogation from Hannah. “What House would you be in? What is your favorite character? What movie do you like best? Should Harry have ended up with Ginny? What would your patronus look like?” I barely had time to answer dozens of rapid-fire questions before Hannah jumped onto the next one. There finally was a brief pause, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness that was over. I was mistaken. The next thing I knew, Hannah was talking about some Harry Potter fanfiction she had read on a website I hadn’t ever heard of before. Emma had slowed down, and was now trailing a dozen feet or so behind us to try to avoid the conversation. I hadn’t even realized that people writing their own versions of those stories were even a thing. She was talking at one-hundred miles an hour, with just the shortest of pauses to catch her breath as she detailed her favorite alternative plot, which somehow involved Hermione and Malfoy becoming friends. It was so bizarrely outlandish, but there wasn’t a chance for me to step in and ask any questions. Hannah paused her rambling mid-sentence as we were about a half-block away from Emma’s house. She then took off in a straight sprint, cutting across several yards rather than remaining on the sidewalk. “You know,” Emma said as she caught up to me. “You can’t say that I didn’t warn you about bringing up that topic.” Ahead of us, Hannah came to an awkward stop about halfway up the driveway to Emma’s house, when she suddenly frozen mid-sprint and stood with her legs crisscrossed. She remained frozen in place for about fifteen seconds before walking slowly up toward the house. “Yep, looks like she just pissed herself again,” Emma said with derision. “Such a baby.” --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

Chapter 108: General Gao’s BETH TEXTED ME the following morning and said she was skipping breakfast to take care of an errand with Reila, so I sat down with Amy, Mia, and Willow. “Not with your girlfriend today?” Mia asked curiously. I didn’t even bother correcting her, “She had something to do.” I munched on one of the giant pieces of bacon right then, swallowing and asking, “Did you three want to go shopping on Saturday?” “I thought you said it was a bad idea?” Amy said. I nodded, “It would have been by yourselves. We’ll have Beth, Reila, probably Livy, and also Beth’s bodyguard with us?” “That’s a large group?” Willow asked. “That’s kind of hard to move around with?” I shrugged, “If you want to get adopted, go with a smaller group. If you just want to shop and get a chance to see more than the university grounds, that’ll be the safest way?” “How do you get to go off-campus so much?” Zoey, another member of our new nest, asked. “My grandmother?” I told her. “Who is she?” “Amanda Westerfield?” I answered. “That is?” She asked, “I’m not from Ames?” she added with the gasps from a couple of her friends added to the sounds around us. I smiled, “You know the new student union building? Westerfield Hall?” She nodded, “Your grandparents gave the money for it?” “I don’t know if they contributed, but it was named in honor of my grandmother. She’s a big deal in AI and nanite technology advances here. She won the Bremer Prize recently?” Her eyes finally signaled some recognition, “So she’s like really smart?” I giggled, “You could say that.” By the end of breakfast, I planned to meet my friends and get picked up by my grandmother and Nikki. I walked with some friends toward the Matisse Center. I soon sat in Screenwriting class, where all our animated scripts were due. We also went over our next assignment, which would be the next Narratives project. “Okay, for this next assignment, I’m going to not just give you the medium of the film, but we’re also going to have everyone focus on the same thematic idea. This film is to be between fifteen and twenty minutes long and should focus on the theme of betrayal.” “That’s all?” Mason, one of our studio members, asked. “Nothing more specific?” Professor Gibney shook his head, “I don’t want to dictate the project for you. I will say it could be a betrayal of love, country, pet, or any other kind of betrayal you can think of?” As we left class, I was already thinking of some ideas. Right then, I also realized that my diaper was undoubtedly getting close to needing a change. I had zero plans to go to one of the HoloNannies, though! I decided to hang out near Beth’s class again and work on my script ideas. By the time her class ended an hour later, I already had three good ideas and ten pages written for each! “Hey,” she said when she saw me. “Hi, Beth,” I told her with a smile, then went up to her and embraced her. She picked me up and discreetly felt my bottom, “Didn’t feel like using the HoloNannies to change?” I made a face that she and Nikki both laughed at. “Would you mind?” I asked sheepishly. She laughed, “If I have to! It’s just wet, right?” I blushed deeper but nodded. Soon, changed out of the diaper and into a fresh one; we headed for the student union and hit one of the pizza places. She ordered two ‘big’ slices and gave me half of one to eat. “You know, this half of a slice is still like half a pizza back home!” She shook her head, “I really would love to see what your proportions look like to me?” “I wonder what would even happen if you went over?” She shrugged, “I know there are Mids and Bigs who have gone over to work with companies in the past?” “Wait, really?” She nodded, “There is a company called Diamond Tours that has become kind of notorious for luring new Littles here?” She took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, “Supposedly, their entire office on the other side is made up of Bigs?” “Actually, I think that’s the company my mom and grandparents used to come here. How do we not know this about their staff, though?” She shrugged, “I’ve only heard bits and pieces through Mom and Dad, but I guess the portal either automatically shrinks them to being just in the tall category there, or they manipulate people themselves?” “So what’s the racket? Convince people to come over, immediately adopt them?” She shrugged, “Obviously, they don’t claim everyone if your mom and her parents made it back?” I nodded, “Then there are idiots like my exchange group?” She nodded, “You’ve already had several adopted.” “Including one of our professors,” I shook my head and took a few more bites. “It was all worth it, though, to meet you,” I said with a smile. She smiled back, “I’m glad you came too!” “Say…” I said nervously, “I had a thought about tomorrow. Before Grandma takes us home, would you be open to going out to dinner and a movie?” She smiled, “Carly Slane, are you asking me out on a date?” I smiled back, “Uh-huh?” “Where are we eating…?” The two of us discussed the ideas Shelby had helped me with, and she agreed to the plan before we went to sneak in some editing time before our class. We got three more scenes edited before our Narratives class began. BETH SAT IN their Narratives class beside Carly and Charlotte, watching as the professor talked about some different depth-of-field effects you could accomplish either during filming or in your post-production edits. The images projected did look really cool, but she felt most of the techniques were above her. A look at Carly showed her intense concentration and a smile, though. ‘She’s such a nerd sometimes!’ she giggled to herself. Professor Wyler lectured and demonstrated the technology for the first thirty minutes of class before saying, “I want to give you all some time to work on your projects as a group since I know many of you are having trouble scheduling time you can meet. This’ll give you at least an extra couple of hours, which I hope will help those struggling groups.” Beth smiled. With the rhythm Carly and she had been getting into, they could make much more progress that afternoon than they had planned! “Before we go, I want to offer everyone one more challenge you must complete by class on Tuesday.” Beth noticed most of the groups stop from the moving they’d just begun; several seemed almost desperate then. “So, the project is to create a studio logo splash clip for the beginning of your films. I will have a few faculty members select their preference and award the top group two million credits, second place, one million, third, seven-fifty, and fourth; as long as you complete it, you will get four hundred thousand. The splash screens should last between five and twenty seconds long. The cooler and more relevant, the better!” There was some excited chatter around the room and some questions before he dismissed everyone. “How is the editing coming?” Charlotte asked her and Carly. “Pretty good?” Carly said. We’re starting to wrap up Act One in our first edit. Beth and I have a pretty good rhythm going and were flying earlier. I think we can get another eight hours in right now and hopefully finish by tomorrow afternoon. Otherwise, we might come in on Saturday.” “Sounds like a plan,” Charlotte said. “Don’t feel like you have to kill yourselves though. We could get some work done on Monday and Tuesday. I’ve already reserved the student who will compose the music for the film.” “Cool,” Beth said. “What about this project?” “We’ll work on it with Ethan, Sophie, and Will,” Charlotte said. “While Carly would be good at this, I want you guys just to focus on the edit?” Beth nodded, “Okay.” “Let me know when you get done. If it’s by Monday, we might schedule a viewing of the rough with everyone.” “Okay,” Carly said. “Come on, Beth, let’s get to work…” She jumped off the chair and pulled her backpack over her shoulders. “Such a taskmaster!” Beth kidded Carly. Carly giggled in response, and they made their way to the editing studio. Nikki checked the room first and then stationed herself to watch over them. “Why don’t I order some food to be delivered?” Beth suggested. “That way, we won’t have to worry about you skipping dinner.” “Sounds great!” Carly told her. “What do you want?” Carly shrugged, “Not pizza? I could maybe go for something like General Tso’s chicken?” “Huh?” Carly looked thoughtful, “Wait, Mom said it’s called General Gao’s here?” Beth nervously nodded. Nikki spoke up, though, “Are you sure you want that? That’s really spicy?” Beth and Carly both laughed, “She probably does,” Beth said. “This one has a crazy spice tolerance. She actually won a back-to-school contest a few weeks ago. You want something, too?” She asked the bodyguard, who had been practically blending into the wall until then. “Sure…” One thing Beth had always appreciated about the local Chinese food place she ordered from was that they would come to find you in a building you were working on. So it was that Carly continued working on editing, even as they took delivery of their food. They’d just made it to the scene in the playroom the day of ‘Bree’s adoption.’ “Why don’t we stop and eat, then we’ll keep going?” Beth suggested. Carly shrugged, and they all gathered around a table on the back side of the room to split up the order. She shook her head at Nikki, watching Carly eat the first bite. She was pretty good about not being a mommy type herself, but you could see she was already planning how to rescue the crazy Little! Carly seemed to have sensed it as she smiled and enjoyed the first bite. “You really can eat that?” Nikki asked. “It’s delicious!” Carly told her. “You want a piece?” Nikki clearly couldn’t believe it was the regular dish, so she used her own chopsticks to take a piece of the meat and placed it in her mouth. She chewed before rapidly chugging some of her drink! “That’s not spicy?” She asked in disbelief! As if to prove a point, Carly grabbed one of the peppers and bit about half of it off into her mouth. “These are great! But really, I’d rate them maybe a mild poblano or jalapeno back home?” She shrugged and kept eating. “She really is an alien…” Nikki muttered, and the three of them laughed! After watching Carly scarf down food that should have been impossible to eat, she watched her switch back to editing and gradually move faster and faster. They did have to stop and enjoy the improv footage from the tea party, though! They were just getting ready to splice some clips together when a knock came on the door, and it opened. I TURNED AND found Charlotte and Sebastian at the door. “Hey guys,” I said, “What’s up?” “Just wanted to see how you two are getting on?” Charlotte asked. “Pretty good,” I told her. “Just about to finish the tea party scene?” They both chuckled, “I wish we could include the original,” Sebastian said. “Be careful with that one, though. I don’t think you violated any of your stupid Little’s rules, but it’s close to the line?” I nodded, “I actually scrubbed the audio from the original files on the system already.” I didn’t tell them I kept a copy in a strongly encrypted file on a personal storage device, though! ‘I know that no one will ever access it who I don’t to, though!’ “So, when do you think you’ll be able to finish this rough cut?” Charlotte asked. I shrugged and looked at the time, “We’ve got about ten more scenes to go; I’m hoping by the time I have to leave to go to the nest, we can be down to two or three left?” “That’s fast; you’re being careful with the cuts?” Sebastian asked. “She is,” Beth said for me. “The parts already look like a finished product to me. She keeps saying there are more things to do, but I sure can’t tell?” I shrugged, “I want to play with the transition effects some more for timing. Some of that, though, doesn’t make sense to get too nit-picky until we have the soundtrack. We also need to add sound effects to some scenes. I’ll work on that early next week, though.” “It sounds like you two have it in hand. Can you let us know when it’s done?” Charlotte asked. “Sure! Why don’t we plan to meet with anyone who wants to see the rough cut around 20 o’clock on Monday?” I said. “Bring your own pizza?” “Sure, we should be able to access one of the small viewing theaters, too,” Sebastian said. “Have a good weekend,” he said, pulling Charlotte from the room and letting us return to the editing. “Think they don’t trust us?” I asked once the door was closed. “No, they definitely do!” Beth said, “I think it’s more the helpless feeling of this part being out of their hands?” “Well, you can’t exactly have a full group working on this part?” I responded. “No, and I think that letting go is tough sometimes,” she smiled beside me. “I can kind of understand? You’re pretty much doing the whole thing right now.” I blushed, “Sorry?” “It’s your major; you should be the one doing it!” I continued working as quickly but carefully as possible. I hated seeing my original self in the early cuts, but I couldn’t help but smile anytime there was a close-up of my new face. I loved the hairstyles they’d used, and the outfits were cute—if only they weren’t as infantile! I couldn’t help but love my new self a lot more, though! The editing passed with a series of steps for each set of shots. Step one was using Beth’s notes to determine which take was the best. She had done a great job, and I couldn’t disagree with her choices on the Edit Decision List she drew up. With the editing software, it was a quick press of options to have all of the camera shots from that take available to quickly glance through the script and see what looked good for a selection. I would alternate close-ups, medium shots, and wide shots depending on what made sense to tell the story. Each time I did a close-up of Beth, I also felt butterflies in my stomach. Charlotte was a professionally fun actress in all of her shots. She was so talented! Little things like a raise of her eyebrow, a slight turn up of her lips, or tensing of her body told the story so well in anything she did! You could take the audio out of the clip and still be able to read what she was saying and doing! That really applied to most of the cast, though! Ava was the one exception. She really struggled to act the part of the daycare owner believably. I could see why Beth had so much footage of the time in the daycare playing because it took multiple takes to get a scene good enough for her. Even then, I found myself using some creative shots and cuts to use her voice and avoid her facial expressions, which tended to be rather dull or unrealistic. I hated the subject matter of the film, but there was a sense of pride in my being as I completed each part of it. It probably helped that even though I enjoyed my appearance, it still took me a moment to recognize myself as the actress in the scenes! To my surprise, it was soon twenty minutes from when I was supposed to be in the dorm, and I had just one last scene to finish! “I want to stay!” I complained, even as I followed Beth’s directions and saved, backed up, and logged out of everything. “I know, but the last thing we want to do is have a curfew violation for you?” I nodded, “Yeah…” As I stood up, I realized we’d never changed my diaper again, and it was practically all hanging below the level of my skirt! Beth had just put her backpack on and smirked, “That’s a little wet…?” “I noticed,” I said, looking at the clock. “Do you think you can deal with it until you get back to your nest?” Beth asked. “Time is running out?” “If you carry me?” I said with a sigh. “Just don’t leak on me,” she said half-seriously. “They’re usually pretty good about not doing that. But no promises?” She risked it, gathering me up and walking beside Nikki quickly to the dorms. When we reached Sanders Hall, she sat me down at the door, and I grimaced. “Sorry, Beth. I did leak on you, it looks like.” Thankfully, her jacket was waterproof, but there was a definite spot on her side where my diaper contacted her. “It’s okay, Carly, that’ll teach me to make sure we check your diaper more often! Get inside and get Miss Lilly to change you quickly before you leak on anything else!” she advised as she knelt down and risked getting wet again with a hug. “See you in the morning,” I told her, “Love you,” I added softly. “Love you too,” she smiled at me. I was just crossing the lobby to the elevator when I saw Mackenzie. “Well, hello there,” she said, “I haven’t seen you all week except in the pool!” I blushed, “Sorry, it’s been a busy week, and I’ve been working on that film project.” “Is that where you’re coming from now?” I nodded, “Yeah, we were trying to get as much done today as we could.” “Too busy to change that diapee?” I squirmed under her gaze as she knelt in front of me, clearly able to see the soaked diaper hanging below my skirt! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading! Please press the Like button and leave a comment! My writing drought has continued through this week, but I'm hoping this weekend that I may have a shot at writing more again. We'll see what my mindset is like. Unless I have a massively productive weekend, we'll definitely be back on once per week again for a while. Thanks for your patience here!

Chapter 62 – Small World [8:35 PM] Zack looked around from inside the black vinyl and plexiglass cave that was the backseat of the police SUV. Driving through the city in the back of a police car had felt weird; he felt as if people were looking at him and wondering what he’d done to end up in the back of a police car, on a Friday night, even though the glass was tinted, and logically, he knew the people glancing at the cruiser as they rolled past, could not see him. It was interesting to note him to note that the roads seemed to open up in front of them, even though they didn’t have any lights or sirens on. No, by all means, after you, Mrs. Cop, thank you for not pulling me over… Zack’s eyes widened as the SUV made a right turn up a short driveway, and then through a gate that opened automatically as they approached it. They were going into the back parking lot of a large police station. There were US, state, and city flags arrayed on tall poles in front of the building, and the surroundings were brightly lit. There was a parking area behind the building, surrounded by heavy, black fencing, that they pulled into. There seemed to be dozens of police cars parked side by side, all backed into their spots, looking ready to go. Many of them were the same SUV that they rolled up in, while others were cars, and a few were large pickup trucks. Zack had never seen so many emergency vehicles in one place. Officer Riley backed into an empty spot close to the building, which was a vast expanse of grey concrete, interrupted by black glass windows that you couldn’t look in through. She got out and opened Zack’s door, then went around behind the SUV and opened the hatch, before returning with the damaged scooter, and then extending a hand to Zack so that he could slide down off of the tall bench seat and put his injured leg on the cushion. Officer Riley let him wheel himself out of the way of the door, then said “Wait for me Zack, sometimes people zip out of this lot pretty quickly, don’t go out into the driveway without me.” She took his left hand in hers, and did a careful sweep of the lot, before leading him at a relaxed pace towards a set of glass and metal double doors. Other officers were streaming both past them, into the building, and out of the building towards them. Some of the officers nodded or said hello to the lady he was with, while many of them swept him quickly with their eyes. Zack again felt self-conscious about wearing the lightweight, damaged romper over a bulky, crinkly diaper, in front of the phalanx of young, serious men and women who were crisscrossing the lot in all directions. He felt like a toddler being led through a college campus, and he pinned his eyes on the ground in front of him and shrank in closer to the officer he was following, as much as the contraption he was straddling would allow. Officer Riley gave Zack’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, buddy, you’re not in trouble. We just need to figure out what’s going on with you…” She was interrupted by her radio cracking to life. “Twenty eighty-two, do you still require EMS to attend?” The officer stopped walking, and turned to examine Zack, who kept his eyes focused downward, as though there was something terribly interesting about the handlebars of his scooter. “Adam, I’m just going to run my hands over your arms and legs and back – tell me if anything hurts. Are your only injuries your knee and your hands, outside of your cast?” Zack nodded as the officer did a gentle sweep of both his arms, and then each of his legs, bending over to allow her to manipulate his ankles. Finally, she swept a hand down his back, immediately noting the plasticky smoothness of his underclothes, which commenced halfway between his shoulders and his waist. She did not let on that she’d noticed anything. “Did that hurt at all?” “Nope,” Zack whispered, as more officers filed past them on their way in or out of the busy building. She felt my diaper. She knows. “Well, I think we can tidy that knee up with a first aid kit for now, so maybe we’ll save ourselves the wait for a paramedic.” She picked up the radio. “Twenty eighty-two, negative, no need for EMS to attend.” “Roger, twenty eighty-two, social services is waiting for you in the front reception area.” The officer’s eyebrows went up. “Well, Adam, tonight is your lucky night; I thought we were going to spend a couple of hours twiddling our thumbs and getting to know each other before social services got here. Do you know what social services does?” Zack shook his head. “Let’s get inside and I’ll tell you.” Zack allowed himself to be led by Officer Riley through the black-tinted doors, and into a small lobby with a desk built into one side, behind which stood another police officer. An officer who guards the officers, Zack thought. Officer Riley spoke to the officer behind the desk, then wrote in a binder for a moment, and then there was a buzzing behind them, and another glass door, this one clear, unlatched and swung robotically open. Zack followed officer Riley through a maze of brightly lit, busy hallways, until they entered a room through a tan-coloured doorway marked “Interview 4.” Inside the room, there was a round table with a half dozen chairs around it, and then a sideboard with pads of paper and pens on it. She led Zack over to a chair and then pulled it out so that it would be easier for him to sit down on it. She held his hand as he shifted his weight off the scooter and pivoted to sit on the chair, then she rolled the scooter to the side. “I’m going to go find the social worker, and a first aid kit. I’ll be right back. If anyone asks you who you’re with in the meantime, what you going to say?” Zack squinted for a moment, then whispered “Officer Riley.” “Correct! And hopefully by the end of this conversation, I’ll know who I’m with, too! Don’t try and go anywhere – you need a card to swipe out of this place. I’m not going to lock you in here, but, you won’t get past the end of the hall if you decide to go exploring. Zack looked across the room at his banged-up scooter, which he would first have to hobble over to, without crutches or a hand from someone. “I won’t go anywhere,” he said in a low voice, and then he yawned, partly out of fatigue, and partly out of stress. “Do you want a drink, Adam?” Zack nodded, and then the officer left the room. Zack rotated his chair slowly and carefully, so that he faced into the dark, woodgrain plastic table, and then he put his head down on his arms and closed his eyes. _________ The door opened with a loud mechanical sound, startling Zack, who jerked his head up off his arms and looked around. I fell asleep. Officer Riley walked back through the heavy door, one which, Zack noted, could be locked from the outside but not from the inside. Beside her was another woman, slightly older, probably about Kelly’s age, he judged. She was dressed in jeans and a sage green woolen sweater, and she had a light complexion, curly brown hair that fell to just above her shoulders, and she was wearing red framed glasses. Behind the lenses were brown eyes that appeared to be kind. The new lady stooped over slightly and put her hands on her thighs, before extending her right hand to Zack across the fake wood of the table. “Hi, Adam, I’m Mrs. Katrina. I work with Social Services.” Zack nodded. “Hi, Mrs. Katrina.” She has the mannerisms of a teacher. Officer Riley closed the door behind them, and gestured to a chair, which Mrs. Katrina sat down in. The police officer remained standing, as she put a bottle of orange juice down in front of Zack. She seemed to want to loom over the table a bit, and she had a serious look on her face, but then she cracked a joke. “Someone is going to be searching for the thief that stole that juice from their lunch…” she said, and then she smiled slightly. Zack looked at the two women, and swallowed. He wasn’t sure what to say. As though reading his mind, Mrs. Katrina started. “Adam, I want you to know that you’re not in trouble, at least as far as we know right now. This is a police station, and Officer Riley is a police officer, but, you haven’t done anything that we know about that would put you on the wrong side of the law. Although, you should know that, under certain circumstances, it can be a violation of the law to give false information to a police officer. Information such as who you are, or where you live, for example, or, what you’re doing out on the streets late at night.” Zack’s face blanched and his eyes widened. “So,” she continued, “are you ready to tell us who you are?” Zack slid his eyes between the two ladies’ faces, and then down to the mustard-brown graining of the table. Even despite being in the presence of an armed police officer, and now, a lady from… Social Services? Whatever that is… Zack still felt that revealing anything that would result in him being whisked back to the hospital, and back to Kelly, would be a mistake. He was willing to take his chances with the law. He had never been in any trouble, but he knew people, distantly, who had, such as a kid named Karl in the eighth grade who had let off fireworks in one of the washrooms, resulting in an evacuation of the school in the middle of the day. Even that guy had been back at home and back on social media within a few hours of leaving in the back of a police car, although he’d been off school for a couple of weeks, which always struck Zack as a strange punishment to administer. He’d set off fireworks in the bathroom to get out of school. Mission accomplished. Zack shook his head, but then realized it probably looked like he was declining to cooperate, so instead, he started nodding vigorously. “My, uh, name is Adam Cooper, and I’m from Olympia. Two-one-two-three Woodhaven Street. Well, I thought that was the number, but I might be wrong about that. We just moved.” The police officer leaned forward to address the social worker. “He said that he recently moved here. From Canada. Somewhere in Canada… he’s not sure exactly where.” Mrs. Katrina furrowed her brow. “Well, Adam, I’m a bit confounded, because you sound like a smart boy. Are you saying that you never knew where you lived, up in Canada? Canada is a big, big place, Adam. Nobody is just ‘from Canada’. They have, I think, ten provinces, big cities, and thousands of miles of wilderness. Is there a province or a city that can recall having lived in?” Zack looked at his hands, which where involuntarily wringing themselves. He decided to occupy them, and the moment, by opening his orange juice and taking a long swig of it. Tart… gees. Really tart. He smacked his lips and took his time putting the lid back on the bottle, while trying not to let his hands shake. Where did that Asian kid in gym class say that he was from? “Uh, we lived in Vancouver. I’m sorry, I’m really tired, I’m just having a hard time thinking.” Mrs. Katrina looked up at Officer Riley, and then she motioned towards the door with her head, and stood up. “Adam, Officer Riley and I are just going to chat in the hallway for a moment. We won’t be long.” Zack nodded, and then the two women opened the heavy door, stepped out, and closed it softly behind them. In the hallway, which was brightly lit, police officers and an older man in a suit made their way past, as the two women leaned into each other and made eye contact. “You said that you think he was wearing… a pull-up or a diaper, under his outfit?” Officer Riley nodded. “I gave him a light frisk when we first got here, mostly to check if he had any other injuries, but also, just to make sure that he didn’t have anything on him that might have been useful to us – a phone or a wallet. He doesn’t have anything with him, other than a five-dollar bill. But he’s definitely got something bulky on, underneath that… bodysuit, or whatever he’s got on. It felt like it was made of plastic.” Mrs. Katrina nodded thoughtfully. “We have to consider the possibility that he’s special needs in some way, perhaps on the ASD spectrum, or that he might be developmentally delayed in some manner. He seems very well spoken, but also extremely nervous, which is probably fitting, given his circumstances. Did he say how old he was?” “He said he was thirteen,” the officer responded. “But I don’t necessarily buy that – he’s small for thirteen. My best guess is that he’s nine, maybe ten. He’s smart for age, whatever else is going on with him.” “Well, we should proceed cautiously, in my opinion. I’m not sure that grilling him or threatening legal consequences is going to get us anywhere. He might just shut down. We have to assume, given the diaper, and his strange answers, that there is more here than meets the eye. We might want to have him seen by a psychologist, or a pediatrician. In the meantime, he’s clearly exhausted, he’s got some cuts and scrapes, and, anywhere we go from here, it’s going to take some time.” Officer Riley nodded once. “I have to imagine,” the social worker continued, “that somebody, somewhere, is going to be looking for him, if they’re not already, and that they will reach out to the authorities, as soon as they realize he’s gone. A kid his age, in his condition, is going to be missed almost right away. So… does it make sense to keep him here, asking him questions that he clearly can’t, or doesn’t want to answer… or, should we clean up his scrapes, get him something to eat, get him a change of clothes, find him somewhere to sleep tonight, and wait for someone to come looking for him?” The police officer looked at the social worker, nodding slightly. She was thinking about where she was in her shift schedule, what she would otherwise have been doing with her night, and, the fact that some of her fellow officers were out on the streets, and might need assistance at some point, while she was in the station, babysitting a kid who might have developmental problems. This didn’t seem like a law enforcement issue – not yet, anyway. She could go down some obvious avenues of inquiry, put calls into local hospitals and group homes, and inquire if anyone was unaccounted for, but getting anywhere with that would likely take hours, later in the evening. Handing this off to social services makes sense. “That makes sense to me, Mrs. Katrina…” Mrs. Katrina interrupted her. “Just Katrina is fine, officer.” “Okay, Katrina, I can assume that your department will be conducting its own internal inquiries, given that it’s possible that you’ve been in contact with him before? Unless he is, as he says, a new arrival from Vancouver. in which case, the school boards or, or the Department of Citizenship and Immigration, will have him in their system somewhere.” “I will start the process first thing in the morning. For now, I’m going to try and see if I can find him an emergency placement for the night with a foster parent… although the diaper situation might complicate that a bit. I have people who are geared for younger intakes, and people who deal more with youths, but the youth people aren’t generally equipped for… that.” “Do you want me to run out and get him some pull-ups while you’re still here? There’s a twenty-four hour pharmacy around the corner from the hospital – they have almost anything you can think of. I was in there last week, trying to find a cane for an elderly guy who had his stolen from him. He literally couldn’t leave our lobby unless we found something for him, or we’d have had to call him an ambulance, but he wasn’t injured. Who steals a cane from an elderly person, I’ll never understand. I think it had a street value of about zero dollars…” “I don’t know,” Katrina mused, “if pull-ups are going to do the trick. I have a daughter who used to wear them overnight. They really were for minor accidents, at best. Given the size of what that kid has on, I suspect we might need something a little more serious. And would you be able to slide something up over that big cast he has on? I think he needs something with tapes.” “I see what you’re saying. Hopefully they have something in stock that would work for him – his waist is not that large. Or maybe an adult pull-up would fit over the cast, although I suspect those would be too big on him.” “Sure, Officer, if you don’t mind doing that. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” “You have no idea how much of my time would have been taken up by him, if you weren’t available tonight. It’s no problem – I’m going to be heading out and driving around anyway. I’ll run up there and see what they have.” “Bring me the receipt, and I’ll e-transfer you whatever it costs, and put it in my expense report.” “Okay, then, it’s settled. I’ll go dig up a first aid kit, and then I’ll do some shopping. I’ll also get you to poke around in our storage – we usually have random articles of clothing in there – you know, evidence, things like that.” Katrina guffawed. “No, I’m kidding,” the officer said quickly, “but we deal with car accidents, domestics, fires… Victim’s Services has a relationship with a couple of local charities, so we usually have kids’ pajamas, teddy bears, t-shirts, things like that.” “Perfect – if we can get him through tonight, then tomorrow, if he hasn’t already been claimed by someone, I can get him some basics.” Officer Riley walked down the hall towards what looked like a central work area within the station, a cluster of desks and cabinets in a larger, brightly lit room, while Mrs. Katrina pushed the door to the interview room open, and once again found ‘Adam’ resting his head on his outstretched arms.

Sorry I been very very busy in RL. I am editing these old chapters before posting them here and I have run out of edited chapters. I haven't had time to edit. I did find time to get this chapter edited. ~o~O~o~ Katie Ann What do you do when you look seven years old but you’re actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen’s entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn’t the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her the way she looks at seven years old? By Becky Anne ©2018-2024 ~o~O~o~ Chapter Thirty-Six: Did you regress more? The next morning the girls were woken up and sent to the bathroom to take a shower. Katie was directed to the master bath, and Stacy was directed towards the upstairs bath. Once Katie looked like a drowned rat, her Daddie dried her off. He then wrapped her in a towel before directing her towards her bedroom. In the room, she saw Stacy with her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a simple silverish-whiteish gown. Daddie was proceeding to lay the regressed girl on the changing table. After her bottom was protected, he put silver tights on her legs. Finally, he put white Mary Janes on her feet before setting her on the ground. After her binder was on, he dropped a similar but not identical satin silverish-whiteish gown over her head. With the girl's hair wrapped in towels, the little blended family headed to the table for breakfast. Daddie put bibs on both the girls before saying, “Stacy, I want to protect your outfit. If that outfit gets dirty, there isn’t a replacement.” After breakfast, the two girls were ushered back upstairs to deal with their damp hair. Soon Stacy was purring as her Uncle dried her hair with the hairdryer. Once he thought she was dry enough, he just put it in a simple high ponytail, which puzzled both of the girls. After Katie matched her best friend, they were led towards the mudroom. Once their shoes were on, the little party headed towards the car. As Katie was climbing into her car seat, she noticed the back was overflowing with bags. Daddie first harnessed Stacy in on the passenger side before strapping his daughter in behind his seat. Daddie didn't drive very far, only as far as downtown, before parking in front of an indiscreet store. He released the girls in the opposite order as to how he loaded them in the car. He guided Katie, along with her friend, into the building. When they got inside, Katie saw they must be in a photography studio, because there were lots of framed portraits on the wall. She also noticed Auntie Jill smiling at them. There was also another female in the room working on a computer at a desk. "While you get the bags in, Adam, I will attack their face and hair. Same plan as before, just with two girls instead of just Katie?" Auntie Jill questioned. Daddie responded by directing the two girls toward Katie's Auntie and replying positively to the question. They were led to a table overflowing with various containers, and it appeared that at least one had makeup in it. Sitting just away from the table were two cloth captain chairs. One said Katie Ann and the other had Stacy written on a piece of tape. Once the girls were sat down, Auntie didn't waste any time attacking the one closest to where the curling iron was sitting. That happened to be Stacy. Katie could see from her chair that her friend was getting a head full of ringlets. The regressed girl's nose twitched at the smell of hairspray. She then watches her Auntie bobby-pin a halo in Stacy's hair. That last bit allowed her to figure out what she was wearing: an Angel gown. After Stacy was done, Auntie turned to Katie, doing the same to her adoptive Niece. Once the hair was done, she started to apply makeup to both of the girls. When she was finally done, the two girls had youthful but angelic faces. After Daddie attached wings to the back of the girls' gowns, the other lady, who was apparently the photographer, posed them together and separated to take pictures of them. After the Angels were done, they found themselves being given toy soldier outfits to put on after their back zippers were unfastened. Soon the soldiers' faces and hair were being attacked by Auntie. Then, it was time for the firing line in front of Kelly the Photographer. While the girls' photos were being taken, Auntie asked, "Where did the second set of outfits appear from, Adam?" "All I know is Sara told me she pulled a few strings at School. It was also only supposed to be three outfits, but Sara got the two Soldier outfits too." Once the photos were taken, the girls were once again given a makeover, this time into elves. While Katie waited for her best friend to be done, she looked around for her Daddie and didn't see him anywhere. Shrugging, she just followed Stacy towards the photographer. After a few pictures were done, Auntie Jill said, "Girls, guess who is here to see you." She was pointing to Santa Claus while she was saying that. Katie wasn't sure if Stacy still believed in him, so she just went towards this Santa, who was suspiciously the same height as her Daddy. Again, they were made to pose together and apart with Santa. As Stacy was getting her last pictures taken, Katie was directed to the changing room yet again. When she got into the room, she found a red velvet dress with a white satin Peter pan collar. The collar, skirt, and sleeves were trimmed with black and white checked fabric. There was also a holly leaf embroidered on the collar ends. The regressed girl wasted no time getting dressed. Looking in the mirror, she thought it made her look five or six instead of seven if that was even possible. As she left the changing room, she found Stacy waiting outside with her own dress bag. She went towards Auntie to get her hairstyle done and get her makeup refreshed. Auntie first had her turn around to do the back buttons and her sash. After that task was done, she sat as still as possible for her makeover. As she was hopping off the chair, Stacy was waiting in an ivory-colored Christmas dress. Compared to her own dress, Stacy’s was quite simple. Katie soon found herself in front of the camera lens. This time she was made to sit on Santa's lap. "Have you been a good girl, Katie Ann?" Santa asked. Santa already had asked the girls' names while they were dressed as elves, so the fact he knew the girls' names wasn't out of character for him. Katie replied, "I have been a good girl, Santa." She said that with a smile because of the ever-present camera that was taking pictures. "What would you like for Christmas, Sweetie?" Katie hadn't expected this question, and she knew that asking for the very much-needed new laptop or cell phone wasn't in character for her regressed self. As a matter of fact, those were things Kathleen needed or wanted, not Katie wanted. Kathleen's sister had just been to Disney and got the college-age girl's niece a makeover at a store there. The regressed girl thought it would be nice to do as a little girl. She said meekly, "Santa, I would like a trip to Disney with a princess makeover." "Excellent, I will see what I can do, but how about something you can hold?" She then remembered the doll catalog she got last month. She said meekly, "How about an American Girl doll?" Santa asked, "Any particular one?" "Samantha, Sir." "Very good. How about you hop off to give Stacy a chance, " Santa told her as he handed her a stocking that had Katie Ann on it. Stacy was the next to get on Santa’s lap, which was rewarded with “Have you been a good girl, Stacy?” “I think I have, Sir,” the young girl answered meekly. “And what would you like for Christmas?” The young girl replied after some thought, “I also would like a Kirsten American Girl doll.” “I will try. Now you two remember to be good,” Santa said as he handed Stacy a stocking with her name on it before disappearing into the door he appeared from before. ~o~O~o~ As the two girls were standing around waiting for whatever was going to happen next, Stacy came up to her best friend. She started to glance up and down at the outfit. “Katie?” “Stacy?” “Did you … what is the word… regress more? You look younger in that dress.” “Not sure. I feel younger in this dress, maybe five or six.” Stacy hugged her friend and whispered, “You look cute like that.” “Stacy and Katie, can you come over here for the last of the pictures?” Daddie asked. The girls turned around to find Daddie standing there in a nice suit. Again, the photographer posed the girls together and separated from each other. Once the pictures were done, the girls were told to keep themselves occupied while Daddie reloaded the dresses in the car. Once he was finished, he ushered the girls towards the vehicle to strap them into their respective car seats. "I want you, two girls, to be on your best behavior at the restaurant, especially after yesterday," Daddie told them. He was rewarded with "Yes, Daddie," and "I will, Uncle." Satisfied, he drove out of the parking lot. After pulling into a Chinese buffet, he helped the two girls out of their harnesses and directed them to the building. "One adult and two girls, please," he told the hostess. "How old are the girls?" "Both Seven," he replied. Once alone at the table, he whispered to the younger girl, "I was tempted to say you were six today, but you would be an extremely tall six-year-old." ~o~O~o~ As Uncle was strapping Stacy in her harness, he told her, "I hope you don't mind, Sweetie, but Katie Ann has another appointment this evening. I didn't expect you to be with us when I made the appointment." The little girl said that was fine, but her best friend looked very confused about what that appointment could be. As they pulled into what Katie recognized as her hair stylist's place, Daddie told them that he really wanted the appointment before the pictures, but it didn't work out. Soon, the little family was headed inside. "I have an appointment for Katie Ann Telgenhof." "I will let Angela know she is here. Did you want the other girl's hair trimmed too?" "I wasn't planning on it. Does Angela have time?" "She does, Mr. Telgenhof." "It is Olsen. Let me contact her parents, and I will let you know." Meanwhile, the two girls were whispering to each other as they usually do and missed that conversation. "I am ready for you, Katie," Angela said near her. Daddie instructed, "A trim and curl her hair afterward, please." "I like your dress. It's very Christmassy," the stylist said as she headed towards the sink to wash the hair. The regressed girl replied, "Thank you, we had Christmas pictures today, Ma'am." Stacy kept herself occupied by reading a Highlights next to her adoptive uncle. Looking up, she saw Katie and the hairstylist walking towards them. "I am ready for you, Stacy," Angela said, which was rewarded with two surprised girls. "Same thing for her, Angela." Angela made small talk with her young client, which was rewarded with a mouth going a million miles per hour. After Angela knew Stacy's life story and had finished curling the young charge's hair, she helped the girl down from the chair. Leading the young girl towards her Uncle, she said, "I present Princess Stacy. Let's see, it is 30 for both of them." She was saying that as she was heading towards the cash register to deal with the payment.

Sorry for the delay in getting the next chapter out, I wrote half of the chapter last Friday, but life got in the way and I could not find the time to finish it until now. Hopefully, y'all are still okay with the slow burn, but I think it will pay off in the end (I'm at 22K words right now). Even though I love AR virus and similar type stories, it still always seemed like magic to me. Hopefully, my plan for Will's physical regression will be plausible to the reader and I do a decent job of explaining the mechanics of how it could happen. I imagine that the process of going from an adult to a toddler or infant would be painful and ugly. I think I may be getting a little too caught up in details in some aspects too. I debated on having a different nurse in this chapter since nurses typically work 4 12s and 3 days off, but I decided against it since these are one-off characters. I am also thinking of going back and adding that after the nurse injects medicine into Will's I.V. they need to then flush it with some saline to make sure all the medicine goes into Will. But I may just be splitting hairs here. I plan to have Chapter 7 posted Monday night and Chapter 8 either Friday or Saturday of next week. For at least the next couple of weeks, I see myself being able to post 2 chapters a week. Chapter 6 I woke up to my mom shaking my shoulder and saying, “Will, Racheal is here to start your feeding tube, do you need any more morphine?” Groggily, I took stock of my body. Noticing that the pain meds were starting to wear off, I looked at Racheal and said, “I could probably use some more pain medicine now or I will be in trouble soon.” Racheal said, “Certainly, Will.” Then she injected a syringe of morphine into my I.V., and with the feeding bag already hanging from the I.V. pole, she connected the bag to the port on my feeding tube. Before she could finish cleaning up and asking if I needed anything else, I was back asleep. I woke again to the need to poop, getting out of bed, I grabbed my I.V. pole and went straight to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet pooping my brains out for either the 3rd or 4th time today, I was feeling a little queasy. Seeing that the feeding bag was empty, I hoped that this was helping. I wiped, flushed, and washed my hands. I get back into bed to see my dad looking up from his magazine and my mom looking up from her phone. “How are you feeling, Will?” My dad asked. I said, “I feel OK, just a little nausea.” “Let's get the nurse and let her know.” He said. Wasting no time he reached over and grabbed the remote off the table and hit the call button. A few minutes later Isoline walks in. “Good evening Will, what can I do for you?” Isoline said. Before I could respond, my dad said, “Will is feeling nauseous, could it be from the feeding tube?” Isoline said, “That is a possibility. The doctor did prescribe him medicine for nausea that I can give him in his I.V. and it looks like he needs another bag of fluids soon and I need to flush out his feeding tube. I will be back in a minute.” True to Isoline’s word she was back with the needed supplies a few minutes later. She then flushed my feeding tube, switched out the fluids, injected the nausea medicine into my I.V., and threw all old medical supplies away. Turning to me, Isoline said, “Let me know if you need anything else tonight, I will wake you up around 1 am tonight to ask if you need any more morphine.” I said, “Thank you,” and then Isoline walked out of the room. My mom then said, “Will, it is getting late and we want to be here first thing in the morning to wait on the doctor. Your father and I plan on staying at your apartment tonight, is there anything that you need that we can get for you?” “I probably could use a few extra pairs of my smallest sweatpants or pajama bottoms and underwear. I would like to take a shower sometime tomorrow and as funny as it would be to moon y’all, I don’t care to have my butt hanging out the back of a hospital gown all the time,” I said. With a smile, she said, “Anything else?” I said, “Could you pack me a toiletry bag and you can take the pair of sweatpants by my backpack to be washed.” “Sure, how are your underwear and sweatpants fitting you with all the weight and height loss?” She said. “Uhh … very baggy and loose. Luckily, I can tie the drawstrings tight on this pair,” I said. She said, “We will just pick you up some smaller-sized clothes on our way to your apartment tonight.” With a sigh, I said, “Yeah, that is probably the best option right now.” After a moment of thinking, I said, “Could you bring me my ODE homework so that I can email it to my professor?” My dad interjected, “Son, you don’t need to worry about school right now. Did you let them know that you are in the hospital?” “Yes, and I told them to plan for the possibility that I may not be back next week too, just in case,” I said. He said, “That settles that, and either your mother or I will call the department office Monday to update them on you.” Reluctantly, I said, “OK.” “Will, get some rest tonight, we love you, and will be back first thing in the morning,” my mom said. I said, “ I love y’all too.” After both my parents hugged me, they walked out of the room. Flipping on the TV, I settled on watching reruns of Ancient Aliens. In less than an hour, I was back to sleep. I woke up the next morning to Rachael gently shaking my shoulder. “Good morning Will, do you need any more morphine?” she said. After a few seconds to fully wake up and internally access my body, I nodded yes to Rachael. Rachael then pushed two different syringes into my I.V., one I could tell was Morphine and the other I assumed was the nausea medicine. I then saw her hang up another bag for my feeding tube then connected it to the port of my feeding tube. After throwing away all the medical trash, she said, “Will, are you feeling up to getting weighed and measured this morning?” I said, “Sure.” Getting out of bed, I see that my parents are already here and are getting up to help me get my I.V. pole situated. As all four of us were heading to the nurse’s station, my mom asked, “How did you sleep last night and how do you feel this morning?” “I slept OK, I only woke up once to get more morphine and another time to go to the bathroom. I feel worn out, but OK,” I said. My mom said, “That’s good to hear as far as spending the night in the hospital. We have new clothes for you to change into after you take a shower today.” I nodded to my mom as we were walking behind the nurse’s station. I let Rachael weigh and measure me and like yesterday my dad asked, “How much does he weigh and how tall is he?” Rachael said, “He weighs 117 pounds and is 5 foot 5 and ¾ inches tall.” After a short pause, she added, “The doctor should see him in about an hour.” With tension in the air, my parents and I walked back to my room. I thought to myself ‘Now I’m shorter than Mom.’ Once back inside the room, I asked my mom, “Can I have one of those new pairs of sweatpants and underwear? I may as well take a shower while we wait on the doctor.” My mom said, “Sure.” Walked over to the chair by my bed reached into a plastic shopping bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a pack of underwear. She then ripped open the pack, pulled out a pair, and handed them both to me. She then walked back over and grabbed the toiletry bag that she packed for me. “Will, I’m going to go set your toiletry bag on the counter in the bathroom for you,” she said. I said, “OK, can you ask Rachael to get me a clean gown and socks for when I get out of the shower?” “Sure, sweetheart,” my mom said. I nodded and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I turned on the water to the shower and started to strip out of my clothes. After checking the water temperature, I step into the shower. I let the water run down my body while trying my best to not let the tape holding my feeding tube in place get wet. After washing my hair and carefully rinsing it out, I started washing my body. This time I noticed that most of my body hair was gone. I have some hair on my legs and arms, but I now have no hair on my chest and armpits. I also am missing almost all of my pubic hair. I finish rinsing off, then turn off the water to dry off. Stepping out of the tub, I slowly get dressed in the new pair of sweatpants and underwear. Looking at the size shows that it is a men’s small. Thinking back to the last time that I wore this size made me realize that I started wearing this size in 8th grade. Looking into the bathroom mirror, I see a version of myself that I have not seen since 8th or 9th grade. Looking at my face, I can tell I am years away from needing to shave. Not knowing what to do about this, I just brush my teeth and comb my hair. I walk out of the bathroom, pushing the I.V. pole with me. I see my parents are sitting down watching the news and there is a new gown and socks on the foot of the bed. I put the gown on and before I could start trying to tie the back together, my mom was up, tying it for me. I sat on the bed, then pulled the socks up my feet. I swung my legs into the bed and laid back in bed. As my mom was sitting back down, she said, “Rachael should be back soon to flush your feeding tube out.” I said, “OK,” and then we sat in silence for a few minutes watching the news on TV. Rachael entered my room with a syringe in hand walked over to my I.V. pole to disconnect the feeding tube bag and used the syringe of saline to flush my feeding tube. After throwing the empty feeding bag in the trash, she turned to me and said, “I'm going to fix the tape that is holding your feeding tube in place since the tape got wet when you took a shower. I nodded and she carefully pulled the tape off my face. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a roll of medical tape and after tearing off a few strips, she re-taped my feeding tube back in place on my left cheek. “You're all set, Will, the doctor should be here soon. I will be back around noon to set you up with another feeding and to see if you need more pain medicine. Of course, let me know in the meantime if you need anything before then,” Rachael said. I said, “Thank you,” and Rachael walked out of the room. My mom turned to me and said, “Hopefully, the doctor will have some answers today.” “I hope so, when I was taking a shower, I noticed that most of my body hair has fallen out now,” I said. With a look of concern, my mom said, “Well, your father and I were talking last night and regardless of what the doctor tells us today, we are going to ask for you to be transferred to the Mayo Clinic as soon as possible.” I said, “OK, I hope I have better luck there and they can find out what is going on.” Before we could get any further in our conversation, there was a knock on the door, and in walked Dr. Wilson. “Good morning Will, how do you feel this morning?” He said. I said, “Tired and run down, not much different than yesterday.” Dr. Wilson said, “I was hoping the feeding tube would give you more energy, but I am glad that you seem to be handling it well. Have you been having any worse or new symptoms?” “I felt nauseous yesterday evening after being fed from the feeding tube, but the nausea medicine helped and I noticed this morning while taking a shower, that most of my body hair has now fallen out now,” I said. “The nausea medicine should continue to help. There is still a chance that you could vomit, but if you do vomit, it should not affect the feeding tube. If you do have issues with the feeding tube, let someone know immediately. A nurse may have to take the feeding tube out and put a new one in,” Dr. Wilson said. My dad interjected, “Do you think this is even helping him?” Dr. Wilson said, “It is too early to tell right now, I did see in his chart this morning that he lost a quarter of an inch less than yesterday. But what we perceive as a nonlinear loss in height could be linear for his body since as he gets shorter, it takes less to sustain him. A 185 pound person that loses 10 pounds is not as concerning as a 95 pound person that loses 10 pounds.” “That makes sense, what are his test results?” My dad asked. “As expected, his blood cultures came back negative. We did test for more rare diseases that could affect his skeletal muscle system. We tested for Osteogenesis imperfecta, Achondroplasia, Hypophosphatasia, Multiple osteochondromas, Fibrous dysplasia, Pseudohypoparathyroidism, and Fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva. All tests have come back negative. It does not seem to be a condition that I know of that could fit the symptoms that he has. Most diseases that affect the skeletal muscle system can take years to cause noticeable changes and to cause a decrease in height like Will would have gross skeletal deformities. His scans show a normal skeletal system and for all intended purposes, he is healthy besides his symptoms,” Dr. Wilson said. “How could this even be happening?” My mom said in frustration. Dr. Wilson said, “Honestly, I am not sure how something like this could be happening. I have talked to some colleagues and they agree that something of this nature is unheard of. We all agree that this is probably a genetic disease in nature, but without further testing, we do not know.” In a worried voice, my mom said, “Will’s father and I have been talking and we want to have Will transferred to the Mayo Clinic.” Pausing for a second, Dr. Wilson responded, “That is the second half of what I wanted to discuss with Will on.” Before I could respond, I was hit with the immediate need to go to the bathroom. As I was getting out of bed, I said to Dr. Wilson and my parents, “I have to go to the bathroom.” My dad jumped up out of his chair and before I could reach over to unplug my I.V. pump, he was already unplugging it and helping me to the bathroom. As I walk into the bathroom, my dad shuts the door behind me. After what has become my new normal in the past few days, as far as bathroom visits are concerned, I stepped out of the bathroom and made my way back to my bed. As I was settling back in bed, Dr. Wilson turned to me and said, “I have already gone over this with your parents but I want to go over what to expect over the next 24 hours. “OK,” I said. “I have already put in the request for you to be transferred to the Mayo Clinic this morning. We will keep you here for the rest of the day and tonight, but early tomorrow morning an ambulance will be transporting you to the Mayo Clinic. I have already transferred all of your medical records and results to the Mayo Clinic and have been bringing a team of doctors at the hospital up to speed on what has been going on with you. Do you have any questions?” Dr. Wilson said. Thinking for a second, I said, “No, I just hope they can figure out what is going on.” “The team of doctors that will see you are some of the best in the world and they specialize in genetic, autoimmune, and diagnostics medicine. If anyone can solve this enigma, it would be them. I will also be following up with your case and offering my help as they take over,” Dr. Wilson said. Feeling a little more at ease with my situation, I said, “Thanks, Dr. Wilson.” “I'm going to let you get some rest, let the staff know if anything changes for you between now and being transferred tomorrow morning,” Dr. Wilson said. After Dr. Wilson left, my mom said, “I’m glad we didn’t have to fight with the doctor on getting you transferred.” “Me too, there is enough drama going on already,” I said. Turning my attention to the TV, I see that my dad has the weather channel on. After spending a few minutes watching the weather forecast across the country, my eyes felt heavy and I fell asleep. I awoke to my I.V. pump beeping. I look over and see that my fluid bag is empty and groan at the beeping waking me up. As I am turning to look at my parents, I hear my mom say, “I already pressed the call button, Rachael should be here soon.” I groggily said, “OK.” A minute later Racheal walked in and heard the beeping from the I.V. pump, walked straight to it, and pressed a few buttons to turn it off. She turned to me and said, “I’ll be right back with a new bag of fluids.” She walked out and was back a moment later. She disconnected my I.V. bag. She then hung a new bag of fluids up and connected it to my I.V. She said, “Alright Will, you're all set now, I will be back later for your mid-day feeding and pain medicine.” I nodded and as she was walking out of the room, my mom spoke up and said, “I have been talking to Marley and she wants to Facetime you if you are up to it.” I said, “Sure.” Wasting no time, she hands me her phone that is already calling my sister. A few seconds later, I see my little sister's face pop up on the phone. While our older brother favors our dad, both she and I favor our mom. If it wasn’t for the two-year age gap, most people would think that we were twins growing up. With a look of shock, Marley said, “Hey Will, how are you feeling?” “I mainly just tried and wore out,” I said. “Wow Will, you look like you are back in middle school or at the most 9th grade,” pausing for a second I can see a devilish grin form on her face, “looks like I’m not the baby of the family anymore,” Marley said. Before I could respond back, I heard my dad speak up in a playful voice saying, “No matter what Will looks like, you will always be the baby of the family and my little princess.” Smiling, I said, “You heard Dad Princess, I hope I am not holding you up from your tea party?” Groaning, she said, “I guess I am never going to live it down that I had tea parties until I was 12.” “Nope, and you are the only one of us who still has a stuffed teddy bear,” I said. In mock shock, she said, “Don’t bring Mr. Biggles into this.” “Well, I have to punch below the belt since you are bigger than me now,” I said. With concern, she said, “What are the doctors doing for you, have they figured anything out?” “They figured out what it is not so far. I’m being transferred to the Mayo Clinic tomorrow morning and a team of some of the best doctors in the world are supposed to be trying to figure this out. Hopefully, I get some answers in the next few days,” I said. She said, “I hope so too. I was just wanting to check in on you, I will let you get some rest since mom said that you pretty much sleep all the time right now.” I said, “Yeah, the only reason I’m awake right now is because the I.V. pump was beeping earlier and woke me up.” “Well, I love you, Will, get some rest,” she said. I responded, “I love you too, Marley.” After talking to my sister, I spend the rest of the day sleeping and only walking up to either go to the bathroom or get more pain medicine. When my parents left to go back to my apartment for the night, I went to bed that night hopeful that the doctors at the Mayo Clinic could find out what was going on with me.

I realized I was a week or three behind, so you're getting two chapters this week! Seventy-Seven I still wasn’t used to the idea of getting ready for work in the morning. For some time now, my mornings consisted of being woken by Mommy, getting my diaper changed, having breakfast made for me, and then being sent off to the living room with my cartoons. Now, after a diaper change and breakfast, there was a stack of adult clothes waiting for me to slip into. Tight, restrictive, adult clothes. Something seemed off, though, and I wasn’t completely sure what it was until I spotted Mommy again in the kitchen after I had gotten dressed. “Are you not going to the office today?” I asked. Her yoga pants and t-shirt couldn’t have been further from what she normally wore to work. In fact, she rarely looked this schlubby when it was just in the house. “Not today, Baby.” “But…” “Don’t get your diaper twisted. I’ll still be driving you to the office. But then I’m coming back home.” “Are you okay? Are you sick? Are you…” “I’m fine,” she said, smiling. “Thank you for caring, Baby. Mommy just needs a little me-time this morning. And then, this afternoon, I have an appointment that I’m not really looking forward to.” “An appointment?” I asked. “What kind of appointment?” My mind quickly scrolled through the worst-case scenarios. Some sort of diagnosis from her doctor? Business issues? A job opportunity that would take her far, far, away from me? “It’s nothing you should trouble yourself over right now,” she said. “I promise, we can talk about it more later.” I wanted to trust her, but it was the ‘right now’ part that troubled me. Did that mean, at some point, I’d have to trouble myself over it? I let it go. Clearly she was already feeling stressed about it, and she didn’t need me badgering her for more information. I gave her a tight hug as a show of support, which she reciprocated by tightly grasping my body as well. Soon after, I was in the passenger seat as she drove. Sitting next to me was a bagged lunch she had packed for me. I hadn’t looked to see what she packed, but judging by the shapes I could feel through the paper bag, there was at least a baby bottle waiting for me. While I had no doubt that whatever she had packed would be received well by the office, I also knew that it’d probably cause me to blush. Future-me problems, I told myself. It felt right to offer one more sign of support for whatever it was that seemed to be weighing heavily on her mind–whatever it was that involved her ‘appointment’: “Mommy, whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s going to work out for the best. These things usually do–especially when you’re involved.” She took a hand off the wheel and put it on my thigh. “You’re a sweet boy, Clarky. I know I’ve told you this a thousand times, but it continues to be true.” “At least ease my mind a little,” I said. “You’re not, like, dying, are you?” “No,” she said, chuckling a little as she stared ahead. “It’s nothing like that.” “Oh. Well…that’s good.” “I promise you, I’ll tell you everything soon enough.” “Okay,” I said, believing that. “Clark?” “Yes?” “This is going to sound like a silly question, but I need to ask it anyway. You know that I love you, yes?” “Of course.” “I do. I love you very much, Clark. In fact, it’d be hard for me to think of anyone I love more than you. And that’s not just in some romantic way. That’s a familial love. That's friendship love. That’s a love I thought I’d only feel for my actual flesh and blood–if I ever had children. I love you, Clark.” “I…I know that. And I love you too. But…” “I just wanted to say that,” she said. “That’s all. I wanted to make sure that it was extremely clear.” “I do understand that,” I nodded. Her words were making me nervous. It sounded like the sort of thing people said in movies before they sacrificed their lives. Or…made some sort of questionable decision. This was usually the point where I’d start to panic or overthink things–but I trusted Mommy far too much to let my worries get the best of me just yet. Soon enough, as she said, I’d have answers. And when I did, I had no doubt that everything would make sense. “I hope you have a good day at work, Baby,” she said, pulling up in front of the office building. She leaned towards me, planting a wet kiss on my cheek. “I’ve asked Lyndie to keep an eye on you today. Try not to give her much trouble, okay?” I shrugged, laughing. “No promises.” “That’s a good boy,” she smirked. “Now, off you go. I’ll see you tonight.” No sooner than I had departed the car, Mommy was off and down the road, headed back to the house, I presumed, for her me-time. It was a rare occurrence for Mommy to just stand, or sit, still–it seemed like she was always doing something. Always moving. I tried to imagine what her me-time would even look like. A giant cup of tea–or glass of wine–while she watched soap operas? Did she read a book in the bathtub? She did like to read–though her taste in books never seemed especially relaxing either. True crime and true crime adjacent, usually. How she didn’t have nightmares about it all was beyond me. “Good morning, Clark,” Amber said as I approached the front desk. “G-good morning.” Amber seemed nice, and Mommy spoke highly of her, but I had yet to get a good read on her. She was distant enough from the baby-shenanigans that I just didn’t know what went through her mind when she saw myself or Risa waddling around in diapers. “Think you’ll be alright without your Mommy today?” Was she mocking me? Or was that a genuine question? “I, uh, think I’ll be good.” “Of course he’ll be alright,” said another voice. Lyndie was approaching. “He’s got me looking after him.” “Good morning, Lyndie.” We walked deeper into the office, and when I felt we were far enough away, I had a question: “How do you feel about her?” “Amber? She’s cool. Don’t expect her to change your diaper, but she’s never going to give you any problems.” “Hey, uhm, do you know anything about Mommy staying home today?” I asked. “Some sort of appointment?” She was quick to shake her head. The suspicious part of me thought it was way too quick. “Can’t say I do,” she shrugged. I wasn’t about to call Lyndie a liar, so I kept my doubts to myself. “So, how’s the diaper doing this morning?” she asked, her hand giving my bottom a good firm pat. Behind us, I could hear Risa giggling, causing my cheeks to blush. “Dry so far,” I said. “I’ll check again soon enough,” Lyndie assured me. “Well, you know where to find me.” I sunk into my office chair and booted up my PC. There was actual work to do. Actual responsibilities. I still wasn’t used to how novel this felt. I had a few tasks assigned to me–nothing that seemed extremely critical or urgent. Likely just the boring and tedious tasks that nobody else wanted to do–the sort of stuff that would’ve been relegated to the interns, if this company had them. Interns. Wow. That used to be me. There was some file organization to do. Some data entry. Some proofreading on an early draft of an employee handbook. There was a folder of images that needed to be moved to another server to be used on the company’s still-developing website. “Are they giving you lots of work to do?” Risa asked, strolling up to my desk. There was a baby bottle in her hand, filled with what looked to be milk. She casually tipped it into her mouth, suckling from the nipple. When she was done, she wiped the drips of white liquid from her lips with the back of her hand. All without the slightest care in the world as to what other people might think. Too, her attire was quite infantile–a colorful onesie underneath some pastel pink overalls. I wondered if she actually wore this into the office or if she changed into this outfit when she got here. I tried to imagine someone walking down the street in this get-up, but it just didn’t seem likely. “I’ve got a bit, yeah. Enough to keep me busy today.” “Same,” she said. “It feels like there’s always something to do. But I like that.” “How, uh, are you feeling about the company?” I asked. It felt like just small talk, but I was genuinely curious to get more insight on her thoughts about this place. “Love it,” she said. “It’s like a dream job. I’m getting paid while I’m using my diapers, you know?” “How do you like Ms. Beaufort?” “Oh, she’s the best. And the, uhm, breastfeeding? Like…holy shit.” I laughed and nodded my head. “It’s nice.” She grabbed a chair pulling it up alongside my desk and took a seat. “You know, I just want to say, you’re, like, my hero.” Lyndie had mentioned something like this to me when I first started working in the office–something about Risa and Bradley seeing me as a legend for how I taken into Ms. Heller’s home to be treated like a big baby for a good length of time. Still, hearing her say this to me now, my only response was: “Huh?” “Like, man, I would kill to live like you do. Okay, well maybe not kill, but you know what I mean.” I wasn’t sure that I did, but I nodded anyway. “That had to be awesome, right? Living the dream? Full-time baby?” “It certainly had its perks,” I shrugged. I opted not to talk about the downsides. The feeling I had of being so far behind now–the insurmountable amount of catching up that I felt I had to do now. The loss of familial and friendly connections. “I’ve got so many questions for you,” she said. “But if I start asking them, I’m sure we’ll be here all day.” “Well, uh, I’m around if you ever want to chat.” I was just being polite. I didn’t mind talking to her about my experiences, but I wasn’t entirely comfortable about the idea of just being interviewed by someone I barely knew. “Good morning, Clark,” said another voice, just beyond Risa. I looked up to see Ms. Beaufort’s smiling face–and her ample milk-filled bosom. “H-hello, Ms. Beaufort.” “Oh please. It’s Auntie.” I tried that again: “Good morning, Auntie.” “My assistant isn’t being too distracting, is she?” “N-no,” I stammered. “Of course not.” “She can be a chatty little baby. But that’s why we have this.” Ms. Beaufort revealed a pacifier and slid it into Risa’s mouth. Risa’s cheeks blushed as she looked down at the floor. I was tempted to reiterate that Risa had done nothing wrong, but it didn’t really seem important. As embarrassed as Risa seemed to be, I could tell that this was also the sort of thing she lived for. Relatable, really. I’d have died if Mommy pushed a pacifier into my mouth back at the old office, in front of my other co-workers–but I’d have thought about that moment for weeks after. “And, one more thing,” Ms. Beaufort said, helping Risa to her feet. “Let’s check on the status of your diaper, hmm?” Risa let out a meek moan of protest through her pacifier, though did little to actually resist. Of course her diaper was going to get checked right here, in the middle of the office. That was how this place worked. Ms. Beaufort unlatched the shoulder straps from the overalls, letting them tumble down Risa’s legs. Next, her hand reached between Risa’s legs and gave the bottom of the onesie a good tug to pull the snaps apart. Next, the onesie was pulled up past Risa’s hips so that her diaper was exposed. I had been told previously that Risa was all about the cloth diapers, and here they were. I was expecting a pair of plastic pants, but these were more like a cloth diaper cover–I suspected they had a waterproof liner. I couldn’t see the cloth diaper itself, but given the bulky shape of her bottom, I had to imagine it was pretty thick. I was curious to see how Ms. Beaufort would go about checking diapers like this, since you couldn’t really see the cloth diaper itself. Sure enough, waiting just another moment revealed that answer, as Ms. Beaufort’s hand gently squeezed the bottom of the diaper. I imagined that she knew the feel of a wet diaper. Then, she lowered her head closer to Risa’s bottom and gave it a quick sniff. It didn’t seem necessary–messy diapers rarely needed that thorough of an investigation to identify–though I suspected this was more for show. Really, if all she was going to do was to squeeze the diaper, she probably didn’t need to unsnap the onesie. This was just how this place worked. “Wet,” Ms. Beaufort announced–just as much to Risa as it was to anyone who felt like listening. “It could probably hold more though. I’ll be checking you again soon enough.” “Y-yes, ma’am,” Risa stated. No ‘Mommy.’ No ‘Auntie.’ It was a curious way to address her, but Ms. Beaufort didn’t seem to have a rebuttal or correction for her. As best as I could tell–’ma’am’ was just the expected way for Risa to address her at the moment. I had questions about that–but this probably wasn’t the time to seek answers. “Clarky,” Ms. Beaufort cooed in my direction, “it’s always a delight to see you in the office.” As quickly as she materialized, she floated back to her office, closing the door behind her, leaving Risa to reassemble her onesie and overalls on her own. I couldn’t help but notice the struggle she was having with the onesie snaps. “Do, uh, you need help?” I asked. “I appreciate you offering,” she said, looking up at me with glowing pink cheeks. “But I can get this.” Perhaps realizing that she was better off taking her struggles back to her own desk, she slowly shuffled backwards towards her own space, her overalls still around her ankles. By the time she got to her chair, it seemed that she at least had her onesie fastened overtop the waterproof diaper cover. I told myself again: This was just how this place worked. Soon enough, I found myself deep in my own work again. Time seemed to zip by at a quicker clip when I had purpose, and that seemed fine by me. The quicker the day went by, the sooner I could talk to Mommy about whatever it was her ‘appointment’ involved. Of course, part of losing myself to work–losing myself to anything, really–was that I stopped paying attention to my own potty-needs. Suddenly, my diaper seemed sopping wet. I had a vague recollection of it growing warmer and more swollen a few minutes earlier, but it seemed so normal and expected that I just didn’t dwell on it much. This, I presumed, would be the hardest part of potty training. Glancing over to Risa’s desk again, where she was finally sitting down after untangling the shoulder straps for her overalls, I realized that I didn’t want my next diaper-check to be a huge production. I’d be proactive, taking my diaper to Lyndie instead. “Out of work already?” Lyndie said as I entered her office. “Or…” She sniffed the air. “Nope. Doesn’t smell like a dirty diaper.” “Well, actually,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm, “I did kinda want to talk to you about my diaper…” I caught her checking the time on her smartwatch. “Hmm, it’s later than I thought it was. I suppose that was enough time for you to dirty your diaper. Just wet?” “Yes,” I nodded. “But wet enough to be changed, I think.” She laughed. “Well, you’d be the expert. Come on over to the changing table.” “You don’t mind?” “For you, Clarky? I don’t mind a bit.” Soon, I was on my back with my legs up in the air. It felt like the most normal position in the world, especially because I was in the company of Lyndie. “How goes the potty training anyway,” she asked, her lips curled into a wry smile. “Uh…I’m working on it. D-did you hear that I actually used a toilet the other day?” She snorted and shook her head. “I did not hear that. Just once?” “Well…I was at, uhm, someone’s house. And…it probably would’ve been rude of me to do in my diaper what I did in her toilet.” “Her?” Lyndie asked, honing in on the most important detail. “I need a name, Clarky. Who were you visiting? Megan?” “N-no…” Though, I still owed her a call… “Someone I know?” “You know who she is, but I don’t think you know her name.” “How much longer are you gonna leave me suspense, Clarky? Out with it. Who have you been spending time with?” “Her name is Paige…” “You’re right,” she shrugged, peeling the tapes of my diaper open. “That name means nothing to me.” “Pizza Girl.” She had to stop what she was doing and step back from the table for a moment. “Wh-what? Are you serious?” I nodded. “How in the hell did that happen?” “We…ran into each other.” “Oh shit,” she said, shaking her head. “That night at the pizza shop?” “Yeah…” “And…she gave you her number? Even though she knows about your diapers?” “Uh, funny thing about that…” I told her the whole story. I told her about the brief conversation at the pizza shop, and Paige’s note. I told her about how our little stunts back at the old apartment had somehow inspired Paige to seek out diapers of her own. I told her about the bar, and the subsequent trip to Paige’s house, where I had to make a hasty decision about where I pooped. All the while, I was laying atop the oversized changing table like it was a therapist’s couch–my diaper open and my caged cock dangling in the open without either of us batting an eye. “Hm,” was all Lyndie could offer when I finished my tale, quickly returning to the task of wiping my skin in preparation for the next diaper. “That’s…all you have to say?” She laughed and shrugged. “You have to see that this is a very ‘Clark’ problem, right?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “These sorts of things are always happening to you.” “I guess,” I said. “It’s not a bad thing. Someday, it’s all going to make a very interesting memoir.” “Who would want to read that?” She laughed again, sliding a new diaper under my freshened-up bottom. “I bet there’s an audience for that somewhere.” New diaper in place and taped up, I slid off of the changing table to get my clothes back on so that I could return to my job. Someday, returning to work after a piss could be as easy as zipping up my fly and washing my hands. Can you even imagine? “You know,” Lyndie said. “You should talk to Ava.” My ears perked up and I spun around to face her again. Did she say something? Had Ava indicated that she wanted to spend time with me too? Did Ava somehow mention that… Well, maybe it was best if I just asked: “Oh yeah?” “Well, she’s been hassling me to join her and Caleb for a night out, but I wasn’t really interested in being the third wheel. But maybe you and Paige should join them. Like a double-date? Wouldn’t that be adorable?” “Uh…maybe.” I could just imagine it: half the table sounding excessively crinkly while the other half giggled and pretended not to notice. “Ava would love it, you know,” Lyndie shrugged. “She’s always saying that she wishes she got to hang out with you more.” “Oh. Maybe it’s not a bad idea…” No, I was pretty sure that it was a bad idea. “Okay! I’ll throw the idea out there to Ava tonight.” Was it too late to tell her not to bother? Whatever. If Ava was actually interested in the idea of a double-date, I’d let her be the one to tell me that. And if, by that time, I decided it really wasn’t something I wanted to do–I’d tell Ava myself. Who was I kidding? If Ava told me to meet her on the moon, I’d drive to Florida in a heartbeat to hijack a space shuttle. The rest of the workday held few other surprises. Apart from another wet diaper of my own in the afternoon to change–and Risa scrambling to Ms. Beaufort’s office after she claimed to have ‘made pudding’ in her diaper–the day seemed light on infantile hijinks. I was productive, too, getting through almost all of my assignments, and even finding some time to organize some of Mommy’s files for her. When it came time to leave for the day, I was almost disappointed–a feeling I didn’t think I’d ever had about work before. “You ready to get out of here?” Lyndie asked. “Are you my ride home?” I asked. She nodded. “Gabby asked me to drive you back. You don’t mind, do you?” I shook my head. “No, of course not. Did she say anything to you? About what she had been up to today?” Lyndie shook her head, but it was all that convincing. She knew more than she was letting on, but it was hard to say how much. It was fine. Whatever Mommy had going on, that was her business and it was on her to tell me about it. I couldn’t hold it against Lyndie for keeping Mommy’s secrets if that’s what Mommy wanted. It was a quiet drive back. Lyndie tried to make small talk, and I did my best to roll with it–but I was back to just thinking about Mommy. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so stressed if I had an inkling of an idea as to what this was all about, but I had nothing. Zilch. Not an ounce of context. Not only that, but it felt like this mysteriously dark cloud had come from nowhere. I didn’t remember it being there yesterday morning. What changed? When? Why? How? Etc. Lyndie’s car finally rolled into Mommy’s driveway. It wasn’t always easy to determine if Mommy was home or not, because there was no way to tell if her car was in the garage or not. There was, however, another car in the driveway–one that I didn’t recognize. A white Mercedes that looked relatively new–given how exceptionally pristine it appeared. “Looks like company,” I said. Lyndie shrugged and offered a playful laugh, but it rung pretty hollow. Did she know who this car belonged to? “Let’s head inside,” she said to me, turning the car off. “You’re, uh, coming in too?” “Yeah, well, Gabby thought it might be a good idea I was here.” “Okay, so, what is going on here?” She sighed. “It’ll be okay. But we should head in. She’ll explain everything.” “Explain?” I asked. “What is there to explain?” “This isn’t a bad thing,” she said. “I promise. But you might not like it at first. And I’m really sorry about that.” “You’re really not going to tell me what’s going on?” She shook her head and waved for me to follow her up the sidewalk. I swallowed, rotated my shoulders in an attempt to loosen myself up, and let out a little spurt of pee into my dry diaper. Okay. Here we go. The front door opened and we stepped into the foyer. I could hear talking. Two voices. Both feminine. One, without a doubt, was Mommy. The other was familiar, but just muffled enough that I couldn’t make a perfect identification for. The cadence of the conversation seemed polite, but awkward. I knew Mommy’s various tones well enough. She was talking to someone she didn’t know that well. She was being cautiously friendly. The closer I got to the entrance of the living room, the more clarity the conversation had. I could hear the familiar clink of spoons in teacups. “...it’s not really my business,” Mommy was saying. “I’ve tried to encourage him to reach out, of course. But, at the end of the day, that’s not a decision that I can make for him.” Was she talking about me? “You understand why I had to assume the worst, don’t you?” the other voice asked. Oh. That voice was also very familiar to me. Suddenly, I felt myself getting a little lightheaded. Not to the point where I thought I’d topple over, but enough so that everything around me seemed a little fuzzy. Let’s get this over with, I guess. I stepped forward, clearing the corner and entering the living room. There they were: Mommy was sitting on the loveseat, a cup of tea hanging from her hand. Across from her, on the other side of the coffee table, was my mother. Annette Leiland-Ashburn, in the flesh. Finally in the same room at the same time as Gabrielle Heller. “Clark,” my mother said, standing up. “I’ve been looking for you.” Seventy-Eight In the back of my mind, I knew this day was going to come. My mother wasn’t going to just shrug, kick at the ground, and say ‘Oh well, I guess he’s gone now.’ Sooner or later, she’d accept my silence as a challenge. On one hand, it occasionally made my mother look like the Terminator–an unyielding agent who wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. On the other hand–wasn’t she just being a good mother? Her son had fallen off the grid without saying where he’d be off to–what else was she supposed to do? So I wasn’t mad to see my mother. I felt upset–but I was only upset at myself. I had ample opportunity to reach out to her and to try and explain things. I probably didn’t even have to tell her everything. Or even much at all. All I had to do was reach out and confirm that I was alive and doing well, and I could’ve bought myself more time if I wasn’t ready to have a bigger conversation with her. “Clark,” my mother said, standing up. “I’ve been looking for you.” “Well,” I said, feeling my heart shake violently in my rib cage, “you found me.” “I truly didn’t want it to come to this,” my mother said, walking towards me. “I didn’t want this to be a whole production. I just wanted to know what happened to you, and I wanted to be sure that you were alright.” Her arms opened and wrapped around me. For a moment, I was too dumbstruck to reciprocate, but I finally lifted my arms and hugged her back. “How did you find me?” I asked. The question seemed to imply things, I thought. It implied that I was trying to hide, or that I didn’t want to be found. Really, I just wanted to know what led to this moment. “I’ll take the heat for that,” Lyndie said, waving to me. “Your mother and I had exchanged numbers back when she came and got brunch with you and me.” “I only recently reached out to her,” my mother said, releasing me from her grip and stepping backward from me. “Though I probably should’ve done it much sooner.” “I wasn’t sure what to do,” Lyndie said. “I probably should’ve come right to you, Clark. I’m sorry I didn’t. But I went to Gabby instead.” “And I reached out to your mother myself,” Mommy said. I was surprised at the anger that I was feeling. I didn’t think I was mad a few moments ago, but Lyndie’s admission that she should’ve talked to me first stirred me up a little. Yeah. She should’ve talked to me first. Because now–looking around to see my mother’s, Mommy’s, and Lyndie’s concerned faces–it felt like an intervention. Or, worse, a shaming. “I’ve got to go take care of a thing or two,” I said to the women. “Why don’t you all keep talking about me without actually talking to me.” I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going, so I just let my feet take me wherever. I ended up going up the stairs to the nursery, shutting the door behind me. Fuck me. That was a temper tantrum. And for what? So that I could storm into my nursery? I checked my own diaper–as if I might’ve surprised myself by it being more used than I remembered. No, only mildly damp. I thought that I might fix that soon enough. That’s what I needed–a good load in the back of my diaper. One that I could sit on, squish all over, and stroke myself to. Supposing, of course, I had a key to the damn cage. I sat down on top of the changing table. The plan was to just do nothing for a while. Here, in my infantile sanctuary, I’d just wait out the rest of the adult world that I didn’t want to have any part of. I knew I couldn’t stay here forever, but a few minutes didn’t seem like a bad idea. I’d just sit. Think. Maybe I wouldn’t even think all that much, if I could help it. I must’ve managed to disassociate from reality a little, because when I heard footsteps approaching the nursery door, it felt like I was being woken from a nap. It was going to be Mommy, probably. She was going to apologize. She was going to say some magical thing to make me feel better about this situation. There was a knock at the door. “Yeah?” When the door opened, I saw it was Lyndie. I wasn’t mad about this, though. If anything, I was relieved to see her. Lyndie kept me grounded. “Hey,” she said, slowly entering and closing the door behind her. “Hey.” “You alright?” “Did I overreact down there?” I asked. “Look, if I were in your shoes, I’d have cursed someone out. You were pretty civil about it.” “That’s something.” “I’m sorry I went to Gabby instead of you when your mother reached out.” “It’s fine,” I sighed. “I was living my life like an infant for almost ten months now. Mommy was taking care of everything for me. I can’t, then, be surprised when everyone keeps seeing me as a baby.” “Are you gonna go down and talk to her?” she asked. “Because, if you want, I can down and tell her to fuck off.” I laughed. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. I’ll talk to her. I just needed a minute.” “You’ve been up here for a little bit. Did you need another minute? Did you need a diaper change?” Lyndie smirked “N-no. It’s dry. I checked.” Of course, I wasn’t that sure how long it had been since I first came up here. Maybe my diaper still wasn’t as dry as I remembered it being. I shifted my body a little, trying to feel how my diaper squished beneath me. It didn’t seem wet. “Well, the offer will still be on the table if you need one later.” “I’m sure, eventually, I’ll have to take you up on that.” We both laughed and shook our heads. Just another surreal moment in a long, long, series of surreal moments in our lives. “Do you remember the first time we met?” Lyndie asked. “Maybe? I’ll be honest, these days, it feels like my memories of the old office start with Mommy handing me a diaper.” Lyndie laughed. “I think I started, like, two weeks before you did. They kept telling me that there were more interns coming, and I was kind of dreading it. They put me in a fucking closet, but…it was, like, my closet, you know? And so then you showed up. I did not like you.” Maybe this shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was–I could recall Lyndie being kind of distant for those first few weeks, though I just assumed that was her personality. “Really? What was it that you didn’t like about me?” “I think I just thought that you were the person that I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to be a corporate drone. I didn’t want to be indoctrinated into the world of being a ‘team player’ or having to give a shit when the company put cupcakes in the break room. But you–you just had this naiveness about you. I firmly believed that the company was going to swallow you whole and turn you into all the things that I never wanted to be.” “Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “I guess that premonition came true, huh? I became the ultimate lapdog.” “Don’t be silly, Clark. The exact opposite happened. Gabrielle made a move to get her hands on you, and the person I thought you’d be would’ve resisted. That person would’ve–I dunno–gone to HR. Quit. Got reassigned to another company for your internship. But you went for it. Even when things got weird–and they got pretty damn weird pretty damn quickly.” I had to laugh again. ‘Pretty damn weird’ was still an understatement. “I’m not all that sure what that has to do with right now,” I said. “I just wanted you to know that I look up to you. I always have. Sure, you were always the baby. The one that everyone got to take out their weird fantasies on. But you always rolled with it, embraced it, and made it your own. If you had rejected Gabrielle’s ideas early on, I definitely wouldn’t be where I am now.” “You? You look up to me?” “You think with your diaper sometimes,” she shrugged. “But you seem to keep your heart in your diaper too, so it’s not all that bad of a thing. Look, here’s my point: Whatever happens downstairs–whatever awkward conversations you have, whether it’s today or tomorrow or ten years from now, I don’t want anyone to ever make you feel like you made the wrong decisions, okay? At the end of the day, you’ve always done exactly what you wanted to do. So many people never get to live out their fantasies like you did. Maybe they can’t. Or…maybe they’re just too afraid to. But you did it, Clark. I’m proud of you. I’m happy for you. And I hope that you never let anyone else tell you that you lived your life wrong.” There was so much I wanted to say to her. So many details in her words that I wanted to comment on. But really, the only response I could give was to hug her. I slid off the changing table and threw my arms around her, squeezing as tightly as I could. “Now don’t go telling people I was being this nice to you,” she said into my ear. “I don’t want anyone thinking I’m soft.” I chuckled, finally relinquishing my grip. “Thank you, Lyndie. I really needed to hear that.” “Of course. But I meant it. Every word of it.” “I know.” Someday, I hoped to say something equally as beautiful to her. “I should probably head back downstairs,” Lyndie shrugged. “You coming with me? If you need more time to yourself, I can pass that message along for you.” “I should go too,” I sighed. I didn’t want to go, but I felt like I had run out of good reasons to hide–though I had plenty of bad reasons. “It probably won’t be as bad as you think it’s going to be,” Lyndie said. “Probably?” “I mean, there’s always the chance your mother takes out a sword and cuts Gabby’s head off. Or yours. It’s not likely, but it’s possible.” The idea of this didn’t really make me feel any better, but it at least served as an interesting distraction as I tried to imagine my mother as some sort of ninja. “You’re an adult, believe it or not,” Lyndie continued. “Your mother knows that. The only reason she’s here is because she wanted to make sure you’re alive and that you’re safe.” “Yeah…but she saw photos and–” Lyndie shrugged. “So what?” Her response was so simple, so blunt, that it forced my mind into overdrive as I tried to rationalize all the concerns and fears I had developed over the last ten months. “So what? Lyndie, I sent her photos–well, I didn’t send them, but she thinks it was me–of me at one of my absolute worst moments. It’s probably changed the way she looks at me. It’ll change the way she sees me for the rest of my life. Or her life, at least.” Lyndie shook her head. “Don’t be so sure of that. Your mother isn’t this infallible being–she’s human. She’s probably had moments like this herself in her life. Like, no, she probably never wore diapers as an adult. But she probably humiliated herself in front of the wrong people. Or exposed the wrong part of herself to her mother. If what she saw in those photos disgusted her so much that it changed how she saw you, she wouldn’t have put in all the work that she did to find you. She would’ve cut you off in the same way that you cut her off.” That made sense to me. I wasn’t completely certain that I bought it, but it at least made sense. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.” “Worst case scenario–well, outside of the one where she has a sword–is that she says mean things to you. And then, Gabby and I tackle her and roll her out the front door.” “You’d do that for me?” “Clark, I’d roll anyone out a door for you.” “Well, uh, I’d do the same for you,” I said, despite the fact that I was hoping that there’d never be a scenario where I’d be expected to follow through on such a promise. “Perfect. So? Shall we go, then?” “Yeah…” “Wait, before we go,” Lyndie said, her lips twisted into a little smirk, “can I get a status update on that diaper?” I felt my cheeks warm a little. Somewhere in the midst of that conversation, I had felt a little trickle of pee in my diaper. It wasn’t much, and I didn’t feel especially soggy now, but I couldn’t really say that I was ‘mostly dry’ anymore. “It’s a little wet.” “Wet enough for a change?” Were it any other time, I’d have said that it wasn’t. But if I had to go back downstairs, and I had to wear a diaper while I talked to my mother, it seemed better that I do it in one that was completely dry. “I think I’d feel better if I was wearing a dry diaper.” “Wow. Changing you twice in one day? Just like the old days, huh?” The old days. Sometimes they didn’t seem that old. Sometimes they seemed like entire lifetimes ago. I was back on the changing table, my pants pulled off and the diaper opened up so that Lyndie could wipe me down. A new diaper was slid under me, and a dusting of baby powder was applied. Lyndie and I both looked at each other at the same time, likely thinking the same thing. “Should I have skipped the powder?” Lyndie asked. “It’s scented,” I said. “I’m…going to smell like a baby.” “Well, you always smell like a baby. This house smells like a baby.” “Fair enough,” I shrugged. It seemed like a moot point anyway–the powder was already on me. Soon, I was fastened into my fresh padding and my pants were eased back up my legs. That was that–there weren’t any other distractions or delays. It was time to, quite literally, meet my maker. To my surprise, when Lyndie and I came down the stairs, the tone of the conversation I was hearing in the living room was unlike anything that I expected. It wasn’t dour, nor was it awkward. It wasn’t combative. It was the sound of…camaraderie? Friendly conversation. Some laughing. “...but as cute as it was,” my mother was saying, “I knew that those were the flowers I was growing in the garden. So I was simultaneously annoyed that he had uprooted them all–but completely charmed that he had made this haphazard bouquet for me.” “Ah, Clark,” Mommy said from her couch, watching Lyndie and I slowly stroll into the room. “Your mother was just sharing some adorable memories of you.” The idea of my mother and Gabrielle Heller having a civil conversation about the embarrassing moments of my childhood was usually the sort of thing I had nightmares about. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. It felt good to have Lyndie next to me–her presence gave me strength. “Did she tell you the wedding story?” I asked. “That’s usually the first one she tells people.” Both my mother and Mommy laughed, nodding their heads. I felt my cheeks blushing some, but I did my best to shrug off the rest of my humiliation. I was trying to think two or three steps ahead. If I sat down, where did I sit–who did I sit next to? What did we talk about? How much could I say–how honest could I be–with an audience? No. I needed to just do what I should’ve done months and months ago–I needed to have a conversation with my mother. One on one. “Mom?” I asked. Amusingly, both Mommy’s and my mother’s faces perked up–though it didn’t seem like my mother noticed this. Mommy quickly realized I was talking to my mother, chuckled, and sat back in her seat. “Yes, Clark?” “I was hoping you and I could talk. Like, uh, just you and I.” “Of course. Did you want me to join you in another room, or…” “Lyndie,” Mommy said to her. “Maybe you and I can step out for a little bit?” “Sounds good to me,” Lyndie nodded. Mommy got up, waved goodbye to me, and left the room–Lyndie following behind. Finally, and for the first time in a very long time–my mother and I were in a room alone together. It wasn’t a public place. We weren’t at risk of being interrupted by anyone or anything. Unlike our moment together at brunch all those months ago, we weren’t just waiting for Lyndie to return. It was just us, and there hadn’t been a moment like this in years. “Hi Mom,” I said, sitting down in the seat that Mommy had been sitting in previously. I felt my diaper crinkling beneath me–and even though I had that extra padding between my ass and the seat, I could still feel the warmth of where Mommy’s ass had been moments before. “Hello Clark.” “I owe you an apology,” I said. “You do,” she nodded. That was my mother–a little too direct at times. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” I told her. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out–even if it was just to let you know that I was okay.” “You moved and you didn’t even tell me,” she replied. “I didn’t even know you had moved, let alone know where you had gone. What if something happened? What if I needed to get a hold of you?” I sighed, nodding my head. “S-sorry…” My mother took a deep breath, held it, and slowly released it. To my surprise, when she was finished exhaling, there was a small smile on her face. “Clark, I’m not actually angry at you.” “No?” “You’re my only child, Clark. And, for a good part of your childhood, I was raising you by myself. Yes, I know I’ve been a bit overprotective in the past. Overbearing, even. I just thought that I had to be. I will probably always be very critical and concerned about your well-being. I’ll be like this when you’re fifty years old.” “Fifty?” I laughed. “I can’t even imagine that.” “It’ll happen to you someday, believe it or not,” she said. “But to my point, I think all that worrying and concern is my problem. You’re still an adult. You can, and should, do whatever it is you want to do.” Whatever it is you want to do. It felt like she was tip-toeing around what she knew, or thought she knew, about my lifestyle. “But,” I said, “I shouldn’t hide from you. You should know where I live.” She laughed. “It’d be nice. Though…I suppose that’s really up to you. It occurred to me today, as I was driving here, that I might not have had the right to just barge into your life. If you didn’t want to talk to me anymore–or if you didn’t want me to know where you were–I suppose that’s a right you have too.” “I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I’m glad we’re talking.” Sure, it wasn’t really that simple–I had plenty of thoughts about the timing of this visit and if she had, in fact, ‘barged’ into my life. But I had known for a very long time that I wanted to talk to her–and if she hadn’t done so, who could say how long it would be before it actually happened. “Good,” she said. “Look, maybe we should rewind a little. Those pictures that I sent you…” “No,” she said, wagging a finger at me. “You don’t owe me an explanation for those, just so you know. Unless it’s something you truly think that I should know.” I laughed. It probably wasn’t really that funny–especially not to her–but I couldn’t help myself. On no planet would I ever think that it was important that my mother know I was willingly using diapers and acting like a baby. “I think we’re better off not talking about it,” I said. She nodded. “Fair enough. I deleted the photos, just so you know. I don’t have them anymore. I only ever looked at them once–and that was more than enough.” The photos were burned into my memory–I felt like I knew every single pixel of them. They probably were a lot for her to see. Especially without context. “Gabrielle seems nice,” my mother said, looking around the living room. “And she seems invested in your happiness–whatever that entails.” Again, I had to wonder what she imagined when she thought about my lifestyle. “She’s been very good to me,” I said. “Is she, like, your partner?” “Uh…” I was almost about to say ‘no,’ but the answer didn’t feel that simple. “Not in the traditional sense, I guess.” She laughed at that. “Whatever is going on here, I imagine it’s complicated.” “That’s an understatement.” “And Lyndie is in on it?” “In a way.” She nodded, seeming to mull it over for a moment or two. “But you’re happy?” “Yes.” “And you’re not harming anyone else?” “No.” She shrugged. “I mean–I guess I’m happy for you, then.” “It’s not going to be like this forever,” I said, well aware that ‘this’ had yet to be defined out loud. She nodded, her smile implying a “Sure, if you say so,” sort of response. “I suppose I do have one question,” my mother said. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.” My heart pounded in my chest as I held my breath. I was dreading what this could be. “So, you’re living with Gabrielle, and it seems like you know each other well and she takes good care of you–I suppose the details of that are none of my business. But…I’m curious. Do you see her as a mother-figure, Clark? Is she the version of a mother that you wished I was?” Oof. What a question. I could, and probably would, spend years breaking down and dissecting that query. Was it even possible to offer a concise answer for my mother now? Maybe. “It’s different,” I said, realizing that the room had likely been silent for a good minute or three. “I wouldn’t want her to be you. And I wouldn’t want you to be her.” That felt like an alright answer–one that scratched the surface. But it also occurred to me that there may have just been one thing that she wanted–perhaps needed–to hear: “She doesn’t replace you.” My mother nodded. It was unclear if she believed me, or if she was happy about this answer–but I at least felt that she understood it. That was the best that I could do. “Whatever it is you have here, Clark, it seems to make you happy. Gabrielle and Lyndie speak very highly of you, and they clearly love you. I’m not going to pretend that I’m not jealous, but I am happy for you.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I said, “Thank you, Mom,” but I wasn’t entirely sure what I was thanking her for. “I could impart some motherly wisdom for you, if you’d care to hear it,” my mother said. I sighed, expecting some speech about how I needed to grow up or get my life in order. Perhaps some words about responsibility or maturity. “Sure.” “I may be a little late with this advice, but it’s still a good thing to know.” “Uh huh.” “See, when you were young, you’d get diaper rashes all the time. I tried a lot of different topical treatments and ointments. But do you know what worked best? Coconut oil. Every time–cleared it right up.” I felt my cheeks glowing–my face might have been on fire. “Jesus, Mom.” “I’m just saying,” she shrugged. “Maybe you’d find that information useful.”

Chapter 6: Punishment Snack time finally came to an end. A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by the occasional sound of chewing and the rustling of clothing as the group shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Steve's stomach hurt from all the milk he had been drinking. His fear of knowing that punishment awaited him at Nyxara's hands only made him feel worse. These things weren't human; what punishment would it deal? It seemed so terrifying that it only makes sense that its punishment would be fitting. Elysia moved quietly among them, her movements purposeful as she collected the empty plates and discarded wrappers. Despite its earlier display of sympathy, its demeanor now was one of detached efficiency, as if it were merely going through the motions of caring for children. Steve watched with a sense of resignation, knowing that he was about to face the consequences of his defiance. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at him, the fear of what Nyxara had in store for him. As Elysia approached him, Steve braced himself for the inevitable. He knew he had no choice but to submit to whatever punishment the other had deemed fit for him. They were way too small to be able to fight back. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry with fear as Elysia's cold gaze met his. Without a word, Elysia removed Steve from the highchair, her touch cold. She carried him across the room toward Nyxara's imposing figure. Steve's heart pounded in his chest as they approached the looming, his mind racing with fear, his stomach cramping. He couldn't tell if it was from the sense of dread he was feeling or if it was from the milk. He stole a glance at Ashley, her expression filled with worry and concern. He wished he could reassure her, to tell her that everything would be alright, but he knew it would be a lie. Nyxara's eyes narrowed as Elysia stretched out her arms, holding Steve in the air, facing his impending doom. Nyxara's gaze was cold and unforgiving. She regarded him with a sense of disdain, as if he were nothing more than a disobedient child in need of discipline. "You have disobeyed me," It's voice was cold and devoid of emotion, sending a shiver down Steve's spine. "And for that, you must be punished." Steve swallowed hard, his throat tight with fear as Nyxara reached out to take hold of him. He felt his throat tingle, and he suddenly felt extremely nauseous. *blahch* Vomit now dripped down Nyxara's front, his stomach unable to keep down the last bottle of milk he had. His eyes got huge, and he felt his pulse quicken. If they thought him throwing the bottle was worth a punishment, what would throwing up on them do? He was horrified at what the mannequin's response would be. The mannequin slowly raised its hand. Steve flinched instinctively, expecting her to smack him. But to his surprise, it simply wiped itself off. Nyxara's eyes narrowed as she regarded Steve, a hint of curiosity flickering behind her cold gaze. "It seems the little one is not feeling well," she remarked, her voice tinged with intrigue. Elysia, clean up this mess. I'll take Steven to go get better." Elysia nodded, her expression unchanged, as she set Steve down next to Nyxara, who was trying to clean herself. Steve just stood there frozen. He wasn't sure what was about to happen, but he knew if there was a chance they could get his stomach to feel better, he could get out of punishment. He would do anything to get on their good side. If that meant standing still and waiting patiently to get something to settle his stomach, so be it. Elysia left the room to get supplies and returned shortly after to clean up the vomit. Steve watched in silence, his stomach churning with nausea and fear. He couldn't believe he had thrown up on the mannequin. Nyxara turned to Steve, her gaze piercing. "Come with me," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. Steve felt a wave of apprehension wash over him as Nyxara led him toward a door at the back of the room. He had no idea where they were going, but he knew it couldn't be good. Walking towards the room, he felt like a prisoner being brought to the chair for their execution. As they descended into the basement, Steve's heart sank at the sight that greeted him. The basement was dimly lit, the air thick with dust and decay. He could see a machine in the corner, its purpose unclear but foreboding. It had a cylinder large enough to fit him or any other children sized items easily. Next to it looked like a control panel with a screen. There was an outline of a person's body on the screen. The tube had an orange-tinted window the size of a computer screen around where a person's head would be, and the door had strange electronic parts on it. There was no way to tell what this thing was or what it did; all he knew was it didn't look good. Nyxara led Steve toward the machine, her movements purposeful. Steve's fear grew with each step, his mind racing with thoughts of what awaited him. "What is that?" Steve asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Nyxara turned to him, a cold smile playing on its lips. "This, my dear, is how we ensure our little guests stay healthy," she replied, her tone sending a chill down Steve's spine. Steve's eyes widened with fear as he wondered the implications of Nyxara's words. He knew he had to find a way to escape this nightmare before it was too late. But as Nyxara gestured toward the machine, Steve knew he had no choice but to comply. "Step inside," Nyxara commanded, her voice coldly firm. Steve hesitated, his heart pounding with fear. He knew this machine was no ordinary contraption. With a heavy heart, he stepped inside, the machine closing around him with a sense of finality. As the machine whirred to life, Steve felt a surge of panic rise within him. He never thought himself to be claustrophobic before but the walls of the cylinder felt like they were closing in on him, trying to suffocate him. He tried to break free and escape from its clutches, banging his arms against the glass, but it was useless. He was trapped, powerless to resist the machine's purpose. Suddenly, he saw a mechanical arm slide up from the bottom of the door right up to his abdomen. He saw the machine light up, focusing its energy around his stomach area. Steve felt panicked and helpless to do anything. A strange sensation washed over him as the machine worked its magic. He could feel his stomach ache easing. He no long felt nauseous, and even his butt didn't feel rashy or raw from the diarrhea he had earlier. "What is this thing, and what did it just do to me?" He thought to himself. When the machine finally released him, Steve stumbled out of the machine, his mind still reeling from the experience. He felt different, changed in some fundamental way. He felt better, significantly better than he had in years. It was as if his body had been refreshed and rejuvenated, like getting a new pair of shoes and feeling how they fit perfectly for the first few weeks. "Wh-what did that thing do to me?" Steve stuttered, his voice trembling with uncertainty. Nyxara regarded him with a cold gaze, her expression unreadable. "Are you feeling better?" she asked, her tone devoid of emotion. Steve nodded slowly, still feeling a sense of unease. "Yes, but—" "Good," Nyxara interrupted, her voice cutting through his words. "Now that you're feeling better, it's time for your punishment." Steve's heart sank at the mention of punishment. He knew he had fought back but thought them making him feel better meant he was off the hook. It turns out he was wrong about that. He couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at what awaited him. He followed the mannequin as it led him back upstairs, his mind racing with fear. Once they reached the main room, Nyxara wasted no time. She guided Steve to a nearby corner of the room, her grip steady as she positioned him facing the wall. Steve's heart raced as he braced himself for what was to come, not knowing what this thing's punishment would be. It lightly touched his back and twisted his head so it was straight on the wall. It's touch sending a shiver down his spine. With a swift motion, Steve felt the first spank, its hand cold and hard, connecting with Steve's backside with a resounding smack. Steve winced at the impact. His cheeks burned red with shame as he felt his messy diaper squish against his skin uncomfortably. The spanks came fast and furious, each one landing with painful precision. Steve gritted his teeth against the sting, his cheeks flushing with humiliation. He could feel his diaper leaking slightly from all of the impacts, the dampness slowly spreading to his overalls. After what felt like an eternity, the mannequin finally stopped, leaving Steve teary-eyed. He felt his butt stinging from all of the impacts, and even though he had some extra cushioning, it didn't really help. He felt ashamed to have such a humiliating punishment take place. He originally thought he would have his bones broken or his nails ripped off, like what you see in torture integrations. No, he was treated like a child from an era where spankings were common. The mannequin regarded him with a cold look, her expression unreadable. "You are on time out for misbehaving earlier," she stated, her voice cold and emotionless. With that, Nyxara turned and left the room, leaving Steve alone in his corner of shame. He could feel the eyes of the others on him, their expressions a mix of pity and disdain. He wanted to disappear, to escape from this nightmare of humiliation and punishment. But as he stood there, his body aching and his heart heavy with shame, Steve knew that there was no escaping his fate. He was trapped in this twisted reality, at the mercy of these otherworldly beings. And until he found a way to escape, he would have to comply with whatever they had in store for them.

Hey everyone! Rolling right along here, I felt I needed to add this type of chapter in here to flesh out the world a bit more and add some context to the other chapters coming up with the growing bond between Nancy and Emily. This world may still be a little sketchy, but there are still some bright spots and I think I was able to capture the two sides pretty well here. Going forward, I will try to add another chapter tomorrow, but my day is seeming a little packed, even to edit the next already written chapter. So, bonus if I have the time tomorrow, but otherwise, the next chapter should be up sometime Sunday. Next, as a reminder, I’m now polling between two stories to figure out what I should write next. The two choices are listed out in chapter 2, so be sure to check them out and let me know. As I will announce my winner in my last chapter, that would be the deadline for you to make your opinion known. As usual, I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter! Chapter 5: A Peaceful If Not Odd Existence Waking up around my usual time, I saw the sun shining just like in one of my drawings, and things only seemed likely today to get better, after all, it was a Saturday. Now, Nancy always liked my drawings, and though they weren’t very good, I still liked making them for her. It was kind of fun and that and a few activities, like those I had planned for today, seemed to make up for some of the more… concerning things recently. Reading was getting to be a little more difficult, but I easily offset this with just sticking to some of the more picture-heavy books. It was a loss, but my new friends at daycare more than made up for it with my newfound free time. I also found myself tripping as I was walking and then stumbling over my words more times than not lately. A few crying fits, some Band-Aids all over my skinned knees, and a hug from one of the daycare staff or Nancy usually helped me through it all. The worst though, was my pull-up. Despite finding a new show I liked with Princess Poppy from her cheery face on them and my love of their pink softness, they represented a point of failure in my current life. Each morning, I woke up all fresh-faced and happy, but my pull-up was sadly damp or even to the point of being soaked. My cheeks would flush with embarrassment, like this morning, and of course, Nancy would soon enter to witness the scene herself. “Oh, dear. Another accident?” she would always ask. I could only tearfully nod, but Nancy did her best to help me clean up and don a fresh new pair for the day. It was horrible, but it revealed one positive in my life that had been growing for some time now. The day had progressed and while Nancy had a few tasks in the morning, she was now happily sitting cross-legged on the other side of the tea tray from me and was finely sipping down some tea from her own cup. Unlike daycare though, Nancy made the extra effort of actually using real tea in our little play times. Teatime with Anna was great and all, but I treasured my times with Nancy since I had rediscovered my love of the event. “Can I have mo’ sugah?” I asked as cutely as I could to Nancy. “And what’s the magic word?” she popped back, staring at me with one eyebrow raised. I sighed, but I knew she was right. We had been working on my manners, but the process was still a little slow. “Please Nancy? Can I have mo’ sugah?” I stared back at her with my large glassy eyes, the same look that Anna used on me before but was now teaching me back at daycare. I didn’t have much these days, but I definitely was perfecting this skill as best I could. Nancy rolled her eyes and sighed in a more joking than cruel or annoyed way. “Oh, my aching heart. Put those eyes away missy, but just stop before I keel over from my heart breaking.” She even gripped her chest. “I’ll get you more sugar… just please… no more.” I giggled and held my teacup over to receive some more sugar in my cup. Bigs like Nancy always liked their tea bitter, but I, like most other Littles here, was developing quite a sweet tooth lately. Beyond some of my more recent… setbacks, it felt like it was becoming my fatal flaw. Still, despite my previously mentioned setbacks, I knew things could be worse. For instance, Tyler was plummeting down faster than me at daycare recently and had already ended up in the Meadows room. After I went there to borrow some wipes from Miss Tully, I was terrified of ending up there myself after seeing him toddle about thickly diapered and all. Miss Tully just stared at me for a while as I retrieved another pack for the Canopy room, and I swore I could feel a shiver down my spine… almost as if she was telling me with her eyes, ‘Soon… you’ll be in here too.’ I nearly shuddered at the notion even now, but just decided to focus back on Nancy. We hadn’t received much together time lately with her super important job, and while a part of me still wanted to go back home, I felt like if I did, I would miss her the most of everyone I had met here. There were a few odd moments where she would give me this look that I swear was some strange cross between happiness and relief, but something always came along and distracted me before I could think about it more. “Penny for your thoughts, Em?” Nancy asked me, now setting her tea down. “Oh! I…” I wasn’t sure what to tell her, as I didn’t want to share any of my recent curiosities with her. I thought I was caught in the middle of an unwinnable situation, but then, I heard a bird chirp outside. ‘Yes! That’s my way out!’ I pointed to the nearby window. “It’s just so pwetty out! Biwds chiwpin’ and sun shinnin’” I mused contentedly, really trying to sell my act of omission to her question. Nancy, it seemed, took the bait. “Oh, you noticed, huh?” I nodded enthusiastically and she just chuckled. “Well then. I guess there’s only one thing to do. How about a walk to the park today, huh? Would you maybe be interested in that?” I looked back the window showing the outside world and saw all the birds flying overhead and the nearly cloudless sky. It was a beautiful late spring day, and everything seemed to pull me outside, but once again as of late, two things scared me out there that I had come to fear more. First, other Bigs beyond those I had already met were really starting to make me nervous. There was more than one occasion where I stuck closer to Nancy and almost wanted to grab her hand. Not necessarily in comfort mind you, but more as to show that I had already been ‘claimed.’ I really wasn’t and I still wanted to go home, but they wouldn’t know that, and I would therefore be safe. Second, though, my pull-up was a constant reminder that I was wearing them for a reason. The last thing I wanted was a near miss like had happened a few other times in the past week. Still, the pull of the outside was stronger than my fears. Besides, I would have Nancy by my side. So, I nodded my head and smiled about as wide as I could. “Can we? Please? Do you weally mean it?” Nancy chuckled and quickly got up. “Of course. Now, put your cup back on the tray and then you try and go potty for me, okay?” I bounced up to my feet and nodded as I set my cup back on the tray as instructed. Nancy just smiled and left with the tray while she left me to do my business. Right then, I was just grateful I wouldn’t have to mount the stairs like I used to when I first came to live with her. See, the house was designed for a Big in mind, so every step was a really big climb for me, and with my pull-ups… my near misses would have been full-blown accidents right on the stairs if not for the tiny potty in the downstairs bathroom that Nancy had set out for me last week. A little humiliating for sure with its babyish designs of diapered princesses, and I always found that odd, but when I had to pee, it might as well have been the greatest gift ever to me. So once again, I popped in the bathroom and only closed the door to a crack, just as a precaution in case something did happen and Nancy needed to help me out. Still, once I dropped my tights, I waddled over to the potty and sat down with my pull-up soon yanked to my feet… thankfully, still dry. “Whew!” I said out loud as a rush of pee soon could be heard splattering on the inside of the plastic surface beneath me. I was a little worried that I initially didn’t think I needed to go so bad, but I still had made it, and that’s what counted in the end around here. “Everything okay in there?” Nancy asked from the kitchen, a few clinking noises following her words as well, likely coming from the dishes she was now washing. “All good! Made it jus’ in time. No accidents today! Pwomise!” I shouted back. “Very good, Emma!” she praised me. I always loved it when she did that lately. I didn’t even think twice about announcing my business to her anymore, as just as long as I got that praise, followed by that wonderful tiny warm feeling all over, I was happy. I had to imagine that it had been a trying week for Nancy. I felt that she was still happy, maybe even happier than when I first met her, but I could tell that between her job and my new… oddities, like the potty for me, she was also more stressed out than ever before. I blamed myself, and I almost considered going back to Mrs. Tatum’s, but Nancy insisted I stay. She called it a ‘burden of a caregiver,’ but I just was more paying attention to the fact that she told me I could still stay with her. Regardless, I soon finished up, used my potty stool to wash my hands while I sang the ‘Happy Birthday’ song and then exited, feeling prouder than ever. Nancy was still packing a few things up though, so I just plopped myself on the couch and started reading another book. It had silly pictures and was always a guarantee to put me in a good mood lately. Finally, Nancy had packed a bag that now hung from her shoulders, and while I hadn’t watched her pack it, now trusting her to do so for me, I almost could guarantee that there was at least a few snacks, a jacket and some drinks for both of us, and maybe even some chalk, coloring books, or a small book in case I got bored yet still didn’t want to go back home. Unfortunately, I also knew there was also likely a change of clothes, some wipes, and a fresh pull-up… just in case. So, resigned but happy, Nancy and I walked out of our house and strolled down the sidewalk to our local park. It was really a beautiful day, but I also had a teensy bit of trouble keeping up with Nancy. Every step she took, I had to take two of my own. It soon became a bit exhausting, and I was momentarily distracted by another Little riding in a stroller. They seemed so happy… so at peace… so… I shook my head. ‘Where did that thought come from about a freakin’ stroller?’ I momentarily paused, completely in disbelief with myself. Nancy noticed. “You okay, Em?” she asked, stopping herself and turning around. “You need to go potty, or…?” I quickly shook my head. “Nope! Just a little sweepy. It’sa lotta walkin’.” Nancy only smiled and waved me forward. “I know, honey, but it’s okay. We’re almost to the park and you can just sit for a minute if you need to, okay?” For some odd reason, as soon as she mentioned the prospect of being close to the park, I felt a sudden surge of energy ripple through me. The park was so close, and we were both now wasting time. So, after nodding, I took off. Nancy just laughed behind me, and despite my exhaustive pace, from her much longer legs, she easily kept up with me. Finally, a block later and out of breath a little, we made it. The park was just like any other I had seen back home, but this one was actually sized for me. While that was worrying on one level, there was a growing part of me that actually became excited to see playground equipment lately. Now, I know many people from back home would probably judge me for that notion. I even judged myself the first time I swung on one of the swings or giggled going down a slide, but everyone back home hadn’t been through what I had. When one’s day is filled with sing-alongs, oddly colored food, and above all, the condescension of everyone taller than you, a playground is just pure freedom. On a beautiful day like today, I made sure I took full advantage of that. While Nancy parked herself on a nearby bench, I went off to find new adventures on the playground. It just so happened the whole thing was built like some giant plastic and metal abstract castle, but to any Little with an ounce of imagination like me, it might as well have had a sign that said, ‘All Princesses Welcome.’ To me, it was perfect. Today, I just happened to be the oldest Little here. The other two that joined my game instead of running off to go play in the sandbox like the other younger Littles had, ‘I mean, gross and scratchy, right? Who needs that?’, were Jimmy and Donny. Both were in daycare with me, but both had been assigned to the Meadows room, though Donny seemingly not far off from joining the even younger Burrows room. I kind of felt bad for the tiny guy, seeing that room as little more than a holding facility for those too young to basically do anything, but he was perfect to be my leading dragon today. “Okay, Donny. You just sit here,” I instructed him, using his subpar walking skills to my advantage, “and jus’ say ‘grrr’ or ‘rawww’ evewy once in a while, o’ when I tell you to, ‘kay?” Donny looked up at me, and due to his thumb firmly pocketed in his mouth, he just giggled and nodded. I wasn’t sure how terrifying he was going to be at being my scary dragon today with his thumb in his mouth like that, but still, he at least seemed happy to play his part. So, I then turned to Jimmy. “Okay, Jimmy. You’s goin’ to be my knight in shinnin’ awmo’. Sound good?” I asked, already knowing what his answer was going to be. Apparently, in his former life, he was quite the ladies’ man and seeing his still-chiseled jaw and deep eyes, it wouldn’t surprise me. Anyone seeing him now though, clearly diapered and on his way down the regression pole, wouldn’t be faulted for doubting that story. For my purposes however, he was perfect to be my brave warrior. As expected, Jimmy nodded quickly. “I’ll save you, mi wadee!” My would-be hero even dropped to one knee and picked up a nearby stick as his trusty sword. I just smiled at how perfect all this was turning out to be. So, all set, we began. I perched myself in the tallest tower, being sure to grip onto the railing up there, at least just to avoid being reminded to do so by Nancy… again. She made a bit of a scene last week and some of the more taunting Littles couldn’t help but laugh at me afterward. Determined to not repeat that mistake again, I held firm with one hand, and then called out to my hero below. “Oh, Siw James!” I cried. Jimmy didn’t turn and then it struck me what was wrong. Unfortunately, I started to notice that some of the younger minded Littles began to forget bits of their old life. It scared me something awful at first, but I just learned to cope with it like most other things around here. Jimmy probably only was ever called ‘Jimmy’ now, so that’s probably all he knew. Sighing a bit, I started again. “Oh, Siw Jimmy!” I cried out again. This time, he turned up to me. “My wadee!” he called back, more squealing than chivalrous, but it was still what I was looking for. Smiling, I looked down and hoped everything would work out today. So, a good time later, Sir Jimmy and I, the Princess Poppy, navigated the hallowed halls of our castle and then the wilds of my surrounding kingdom. Donny just sat in fascination as he watched us, and just to keep things interesting, occasionally, I would point to him to make his noises. To my surprise, he usually took his thumb out of his mouth, even if just temporarily, to say his line. Some spittle and drool fell out onto his shirt and the mulch underneath him half the time, but he still was a very good dragon for our playtime today. Finally, we were getting to the end just as I could tell the day was getting late. I felt a tiny urge to go potty, but seeing we were so close to the end, I just pushed through. Honestly, for a second, I was a little envious of Donny and Jimmy, both of whom clearly used their diapers since we began, but I quickly brushed the thought aside. I was not a baby. “Huwwy, siw Jimmy! The dwagon is this way!” I called out, donning my own trusty sword stick. “Yes, mi wadee! No mo’ bad dwagon aftuh I get dem!” he heroically charged. We both then ran headlong right into the underside of one of the slides that just happened to be where Donny had crawled off to at one point. It made a convincing cave as we approached, and I then pointed to Donny. Once again, he popped his now likely dirty thumb out of his mouth. “Grrr! Rawww!” he shouted. “Oh no! We doomed!” I clung to Jimmy’s arm, and for a second, I thought he almost looked at me the way I would expect any date back home to, but doing a little of improv I guess, Donny yelled out again when I hadn’t even cued him and stopped the moment. “Rawww! Fiah!” He then half-spit, half-gurgled and looked angrier than I had ever seen him. It was hard to understand what he was doing, and it wasn’t part of my plan, but those noises plus ‘fiah’ and being a dragon, to my delight, I just assumed he was spraying fire. Smiling and taking the moment to act a little fearful, I looked back at Jimmy. “We done fo’ Siw Jimmy. He’s spittin’ fire!” Jimmy patted my interlocked arm with his and gave me a tiny little smile. Something told me, that despite his well-used diaper and the large cartoon bird on his shirt, there was still a tiny part of him in there. “Togethuh…” I nodded, smiled, and we both then turned and ran at Donny, both our stick swords pointed right at him. Donny gave one last “Raww!” to us, but Jimmy poked him first. It was just a tiny jab, but I could already tell that Donny’s regressed emotions were getting the better of him. Panicking and not wanting to cause a scene, I adjusted my original ending a bit. I bent down and tried to seem sad. “Oh! Wha’ have we done! This poh lonely cweatuh…” I then had an idea and snapped off one of my purple hair clips. “With dis… potion of healin’… I…” thinking quickly, but knowing my audience, I just made up the first thing that popped into my head. “This will heal you!” I then bopped the hairclip right onto Donny outstretched belly. Nothing happened at first, but to add a little extra magic at the end, I started to tickle his belly. In seconds, he was a fit of giggles. “Da Dwagon is healed! He goo’ now?” Jimmy asked innocently as I reclipped my hair clip. Seeing his wide hopeful eyes, I nodded. “Yes, Siw Jimmy, we saved the dwagon an’ the land. He shall be a good dwagon fwom now on!” We all then hugged over our successful journey, but it seemed right in the nick of time, as both of their caregivers began to call them over. I waved goodbye as each left, and I sighed in happiness, but the moment didn’t last long. Right then, though, my bladder twinged, and my eyes bulged in fear. “Oh sh…!” I looked around and gratefully spotted Nancy. I then ran over to her. “Nancy! Nancy! I need help!” I yelled out in panic. Worrying something was desperately wrong with me, Nancy bolted up and ran over to me. “What? What is it? Did you get hurt? Did those boys hurt you?” She even began checking my hair and then my eyes. I quickly stopped her, my urgent need only growing stronger. “No, Nancy… I have to… have tuh…” I then crossed my legs and started to squirm helplessly. No matter how bad I had to go right then, I just couldn’t get myself to say ‘potty’ out loud. Stupid? Maybe, but it is what it is. Looking down at my obvious potty dance, Nancy’s face became a little calmer, but her eyes took on a look of recognition and urgency. “Oh. I see. Well, come on there!” Without thinking or taking a second to ask, she grabbed my hand, wheeled around to retrieve her backpack, and ran across the large lawn in the park to the restroom at the top of the hill. Gratefully, no one was inside, so Nancy made quick work of undoing my pants and dropping everything before resting me on the large white potty inside, still holding onto me so I wouldn’t fall through the extremely large lid. I saw the door wasn’t even shut for the first few seconds, but I honestly couldn’t care less. I was just so relieved that I had made it, and looking down, hadn’t leaked out into my pull-up. Like me, the real Princess Poppy remained dry and as happy as ever. Beaming with an almost unusual amount of joy and pride, Nancy then helped me off the potty and readjusted everything back into place. Once back out of the stall, she bent down and looked at me face to face. “Emma. I’m just so proud of you. I know everything’s been a bit difficult lately, but you’ve handled it so well. You’ve made me so happy, understand?” Just feeling her radiant praise once again, I only nodded back in relief and happiness. For her part, Nancy seemed positively thrilled, and after a good handwashing, we both then walked back outside. Before we did though, I saw the large me-sized changing tables in the corner of the restroom. Seeing as the potties were Big-sized and the changing tables were my size, a tiny fear managed to slip into my head. Still, once outside, realizing it was getting dark, Nancy and I headed back ho… to her house and then made and ate dinner together. Once all that was done, Nancy and I watched a little TV before bed. While I knew she liked her procedural dramas better, I had recently taken a keen interest in, who would have ever guessed, Princess Poppy. I wasn’t sure what it was, but she just spoke to me in a way that so many other characters on Littles TV didn’t. She didn’t make me feel fuzzy or loopy after… just more like I had learned an important lesson. It might have been sharing or not telling lies, but I still found it endearing in a way that I couldn’t shake. Regardless, I yawned, and chuckling, Nancy turned off the TV and looked back at me. “Okay, missy. I know it was a fun day and all, but I know someone who needs to get their rest. It still felt way too early, but yawning again, I just sleepily nodded. After helping me back up the stairs, Nancy drew me a quick bath and let me do my own business. I kept slipping with the soap, and Nancy offered several times to come in and help me, but I still felt a streak of some kind of independence. Fading perhaps, but it still lingered, so I always said no. Once all that was done though, Nancy waited for me in my room alongside my pajamas and maybe even something behind her back. Usually, she would just help me with my pull-up and pajamas, but this felt different somehow. Worried, I asked, “Is somethin’ wong?” She shook her head and just patted the bed beside her. Nodding slowly, I sat next to her before she sighed. “Emma… this morning, and a lot of other mornings recently in fact… your pull-up… it’s been a little wet.” I looked down at my feet in shame. “I’m sowwy…” My voice even cracked a little. Nancy then pulled my head gently to look at her right in the eyes. “Look at me, sweetie. I want you to know that I would never blame you for something like that. You can’t help it. It’s just something that happens to a lot of Littles here over time. You must have just hit that limit recently.” “Buh so much… it feels so hawd!” I felt I was on the verge of tears, but right before they started to fall, Nancy pulled my towel-only clad body into hers. Oddly, her warmth just kinda felt nice… safe even. I still felt upset, but my tears subsided for the moment at least. “Honey… life can be hard sometimes. It’s how we face it that matters.” She paused for a moment and then smiled down at me. “Think about when you were a princess today.” I nearly recoiled in shock and tiny bit of embarrassment. “You saw that?” Nancy chuckled. “I did, but don’t be embarrassed. It was nice seeing you so happy out there, but at the end, before you came running up to me… I saw you save the dragon. Because Donny was upset, right?” I nodded, marveling at just how well she was getting to know me and my usual outcomes in those scenes. Most of the time, the dragon would be slayed, but since Donny wasn’t, Nancy likely knew there had to be a reason. “Exactly. You changed the outcome based on what you were witnessing,” she began to explain. “Donny was upset, and you reacted. You didn’t just sit there and let him cry… you made an effort to help him… help the situation.” She then reached behind and pulled out something that made me tremble in fear more than anything else in this world. “Like that situation, I think we need to react to this one you’re having at night.” She then moved the diaper closer to me. Nancy though, saw my fear of the crisp white object, and hugged me a little closer. “It’s okay, Emma. It’s just a diaper. It’s not bad. Just a little more protective than your pull-up. If you like it, I can get you some Princess Poppy diapers even, but tiny steps first. Are you willing to try it out for at least one night? Just in case?” I thought about it about as hard as I could right then. At daycare, everyone knew that diapers during the day were a one-way ticket into the Meadows room. As it was, Anna was nearly there and I had comforted her after she wet her dress the other day, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to join her. Wearing them, even at night, felt like such a big leap downward. I still wanted to go home after all. What would my students or even friends say if they ever found out? Still though, the diaper lingered in front of me. It was nearly completely white, save for a few pink and purple swirls along the waistband. Not babyish to my relief, but the whole concept felt babyish enough as it was. Seeing the pail Nancy had set up in my room though, I knew she was right. I was so wet this morning and very uncomfortable after just a moment in bed. If it was just for one night, I felt I could at least try that. So, regretting everything and fearful of what was next, I just nodded. Nancy limply smiled and then gave me a tighter squeeze. “I’m very proud of you, Emma.” We just sat there for a moment, the diaper still calling out, but finally, Nancy spoke back up. “Let me just help you with these, okay?” I could only helplessly nod back to her. Then, as if in my darkest nightmares, despite my reluctance to wear them for one night, I let her ease me to my feet as she then produced a single changing pad and laid it on my bed. It was all covered in tiaras, diamonds, and was of course pink to my small delight, but it still represented something nearly unthinkable to me about a month ago now. “Okay, honey. Just keep breathing and all this will be over in a sec.” Again, I could only nod, as she then removed my towel and gingerly guided me back onto the pad. I had never felt so vulnerable in my life, and I just squeezed my eyes in terror as I began to hear the tell-tale rustling of plastic right above me. In moments, it just got worse, as I felt Nancy’s hand firmly grip my legs and lift them to the ceiling. I had been vulnerable here before. My three spankings in daycare were evident of that, but Nancy… she was different. At first, we just seemed like roommates, but there was a tiny voice in my head that had been growing recently. I thought it was just the usual dynamics of being small in this dimension, but the more I thought, the more I couldn’t deny something I horrifically thought about one day. After all, though I’m sure some situations existed this way, one roommate doesn’t diaper the other. Here, in this dimension however, another title was applied to that person, but I just couldn’t find the power inside of me to even think it right then. Regardless, my thoughts soon shifted to my own situation where Nancy glided a cold wet wipe along my unmentionables, or at least that’s what Anna tried calling them the other day. Feeling so exposed, humiliated, and terrified, I even whimpered a little. “Oh, I’m sorry honey. I know their cold, but just one more moment. We’re almost done.” I just mournfully nodded back, and Nancy kept right on going. As she said though, soon after, I coughed a little as I smelled the horrible scent of baby powder. ‘Oh gosh! Does this make me a baby now?’ I just tried shaking that thought away. It was just for tonight, but as Nancy sealed the front of the impossibly thick foreign diaper up between my legs, my confidence in that notion wavered a little. “Okay, sweetie. You can open your eyes now. It’s all done.” I did and looked down at the near cloud-like garment surrounding my lower half. I was mortified but couldn’t help but poke at the terrible thing. I think I would die on the spot if anyone knew about this, but Nancy just patted my shoulder and helped me up to finish the nightly routine. It was getting late after all. Smiling gently, Nancy then helped me into some pink polka dotted purple pajamas, leaving nothing to the imagination to my shame over what I was wearing underneath, guided me as I brushed my teeth, and then tucked me in for the night. As usual, she left my bedside table light on and a book for me to read. I often would pass out while reading it lately, but I always noticed it was neatly placed back on my nightstand in the morning. I knew at that moment that Nancy would check up on me during the night, and to be honest, it just kind of made me feel safe for some strange reason. Tonight, though, just as Nancy started to leave, I asked her a single question that froze her in her tracks. “Nancy… can you wead to me?” I almost thought I broke her for a moment, but she spun around and looked at me like she did whenever I would mess up something for the first time. Instantly, I felt I had done something wrong. “What did you say to me?” I cowered in fear that I was about to get in trouble, but I just repeated my question. I mean, to be frank, I was having some trouble reading lately, and Nancy was there, so I just had to ask. I’d rather ask than not at least hear a story before bed. “Please don’ be mad, Nancy… jus… can you wead to me?” I offered the book, almost acting like my shield, up to the Big. Nancy took the book in seeming bewilderment, but to my relief, simply grinned down at me. “Of course I will, Emma. Don’t ever be scared to ask me something like that, okay?” I just nodded and smiled back. “Good. Now, scoot over.” I did so and Nancy flipped open to the first page after settling in. “Once upon a time, there was a farmer named George. George lived in village far from anywhere else but dreamed of adventure.” I smiled and feeling a little sleepy, I really didn’t mean to, but my head slowly drifted over and onto Nancy. At first, she seemed startled and paused before flipping the page, but then just leaned her head against mine and continued to read to me. I felt that I could still read the illustrated pages in front of me, but Nancy was here, and she now just seemed happy to do it. I felt like we both won tonight, and in this world, I felt that was never a bad thing. So, I just snuggled into Nancy further, and listened to her as I drifted off, peaceful and happy.

Chapter 16: A morning defeat The light filtered through my eyelids, rousing me from sleep. The smell hit me first, that unmistakable scent of a night spent in a soaked and messy diaper. It clung to me, heavy and undeniable. My body ached from the position I'd been forced to sleep in, and the squishy bulk between my legs made me feel utterly defeated I slowly opened my eyes as the nannybot's gentle voice roused me awake. "Wakey wakey, Bixy! Time to check your diapy!" it cooed in that annoyingly sweet tone. I squirmed a little, already feeling the heaviness between my legs. Ugh, my diaper was so messy and wet from last night. I hated when that happened. "Uh oh, someone had a big accident in their diapey! Let's get you all cleaned up, sweetie," the nannybot said, clucking its tongue. I tried to act bashful, lowering my gaze and mumbling, "I sowwy..." As we approached the changing table, I couldn't help but feel exposed—my bulky night diaper sagging heavily beneath me, its condition clear for anyone to see. The straps came down over my chest and legs, pinning me in place as the bot went about its business. The nannybot just giggled. "No need to apologize, Bixy! Accidents happen. Let's get you into a nice, clean diapey, okay?" Before I could protest, it started undoing the tapes on my soiled diaper. I cringed at the squelching sound as it was pulled away. The nannybot tutted sympathetically. "Oh dear, this is quite a mess! Good thing we have lots of wipes to get you all fresh and dry." I squirmed uncomfortably as the bot thoroughly cleaned me, wiping away the mess. It was so humiliating, but I had to play along to keep my cover. Once I was clean, the nannybot cooed, "There we go, all better! Now let's get you into a nice pull-up to keep you dry until your next diaper change, okay Bixy?" I grumbled under my breath as the bot slid the pull-up up my legs, the soft padding crinkling around my waist. I hated this, hated feeling so small and helpless. But I had to endure it for now. Once I was all dressed, the nannybot scooped me up and carried me over to the playpen, depositing me inside. "There you go, sweetie! Time for Bixy to have some fun in his playpen. I'll be back to check on you soon!" As the bot left, I let out a heavy sigh, sinking down onto the soft mat. Part of me was relieved to be out of that messy diaper, but I was also filled with dread about what was to come. Where was Adrian? And the others? I had to find a way to get out of here and rescue them. But for now, I was trapped, at the mercy of these damn robots. I clenched my fists, determined to find a way out of this nightmare. I watched as the nannybot shifted its attention to Adrian, still in his crib, looking as miserable as I felt. "Now it's Adrian's turn for a change," the bot said, sounding far too cheerful for the early hour. It picked him up with the same ease it had lifted me, placing him on the changing table next to mine. Adrian was usually so composed, always quick with a witty comeback or a sarcastic quip. But now, he was silent and sullen, his eyes focused on the ceiling above him. He looked like he wanted to disappear into thin air. The sight of him lying there in a wet and messy diaper, just like me, was both comforting and heartbreaking. The nannybot began its routine, peeling back the sodden diaper and cleaning Adrian with swift, efficient movements. He winced at the cold touch of the wipes but remained silent, his jaw set in a stubborn line. The robot cooed at him, using the same condescending tone it had used with me. "Aww...did Adrian make a stinky? That's okay! You're just a little boy. Let's get you all cleaned up." Adrian's face flushed at the words, his cheeks turning an angry red. I could see him biting back a retort, struggling to maintain his composure under the humiliating circumstances. I wished I could say something to comfort him or even make a joke to lighten the mood, but I knew better than to interrupt the bot during its task. Once Adrian was clean and dry, he was slid into another pull-up diaper and then set down next to me in the playpen. We both sat there in silence for a moment, looking at each other but saying nothing. It was clear that neither of us knew how to handle this new reality we were living in. Adrian finally broke the silence with a bitter laugh. "Well, this is just fantastic, isn't it?" he said, gesturing to the pull-up he was now wearing. I couldn't help but chuckle along with him. Despite the grim circumstances, it felt good to share a moment of levity with my friend. "Yeah," I agreed, trying to keep the mood light. "I guess we're just a couple of big babies now." But even as I said the words, I knew that this was no laughing matter. This was our reality now, and we had to figure out how to navigate it together. I watched Adrian, his face a mix of anger and disbelief. He caught my eye, and for a moment, we shared a look that said more than words ever could. We were in this together, whatever 'this' was. The nannybot bustled around, humming a tune that seemed out of place in the sterile room. I tugged at the hem of my shirt, feeling the cool air on my bare legs, the pull-up snug around my waist. I needed to know more about what was happening outside this room. "Where are da other wittles?" I asked, my voice small and feigned innocence as I batted a plastic block with my hand. The bot paused and turned to me with an eerie smile etched across its metal face. "They're all getting ready for their big day! It's going to be so much fun!" The nannybot's voice was chipper, but the words sent a chill down my spine. A big day? What did that mean? I frowned, clutching a stuffed animal to my chest as if seeking comfort from its plush form. "Big day?" I echoed, trying to sound curious rather than scared. "Yes! Today is a very special day for some of our little friends," the bot explained as it started organizing the toys around us. "They're going to meet lots of new friends who will take them to wonderful new homes!" My heart pounded at her words. Auctions. They were talking about auctions. I knew about those—Littles being sold off like property to whoever had the deepest pockets. The thought made me sick. Adrian shifted beside me, his eyes narrowing as he caught on to what was happening. We both knew what 'new homes' meant in this twisted place. "But... but we no wanna go new home," I stammered, feeling a lump form in my throat. "We wanna stay here... with each other." The nannybot tilted its head as if considering my words before it let out another programmed chuckle. "Oh, you don't need to worry about that today, Bixy-poo! You and Adrian are going to have lots of time to play right here!" I wasn't reassured by her words; they felt empty and hollow. As if sensing our growing unease, the nannybot leaned closer. "Now, why don't you two play nice while I go check on your friends? Be good little boys, and maybe later you'll get a treat!" Adrian scoffed beside me, muttering something under his breath that the nannybot chose to ignore as it turned and left us alone in the playpen. Once we were sure it was gone, Adrian leaned over to me, his voice low and urgent. "We can't stay here, Bix," he whispered fiercely. "We have to find a way out."

1 Riley lived a monotonous life. Like any other eleven-year-old girl, she would wake up early in the morning, eat breakfast with a bowl of milk and cereal, brush her teeth and become an athlete to catch the bus that would take her to school, spend five hours listening to her teachers' endless speeches, and write down everything important on her notepad. Friends she had none. Not that she minded the company of others, let's be clear; she preferred to stay in the background and be on her own. In group work she would participate enthusiastically and do her part; when it was over she would go back to being the shy, reserved little girl she was. From time to time she imagined what her life would have been like if she had had friends. Probably, it would have been less boring and static and more eventful. Once, she posed the question to her parents, whose answers did not enlighten her much. Her father Greg told her that having friends fills the days with great excitement, while her mother Helen told her that time passes more quickly and cheerfully if one is in the company of a friend. She was still pondering this on her way home from school. She passed Vito's restaurant, then Mary-Ann's china store, then stopped at the supermarket entrance. She looked at it undecided about her next move. It was quite a long way, at least a 30-minute walk. She had finished her water bottle in the story hour; she would be thirsty even before she entered the residential area. She tapped the left pocket of her jacket, she had her wallet with her, therefore money as well. She was sure of it, she had not used it before this moment. Thus, she passed through the entrance and headed for the bottle counter. She took a fresh water bottle and set off in search of the crates, which in a single moment turned into a full-fledged treasure hunt. She found herself in the meat department, continued to the right, all the way to the back, and arrived at the area dedicated to bread. Puffing, she went back four wards and turned left. She was surprised to see the shelf of baby products on one side and the toy shelf on the other. Motionless as a statue, she admired the baby products side, especially the diapers and wet wipes in their colorful and flashy packaging. She came out of her trance-like moment by shaking her head. She reached over and grabbed a package of Pampers Baby-Dry. Fluffy, she thought. I wonder how they will fit me? Suddenly, Riley was struck with a sense of disgust and placed it back on the shelf. Why had she thought that? Why had she stopped there and held a package of baby diapers in her hands? What was happening to her? She took steps back. Her gaze shifted to a young woman with brown hair and delicate face. She, too, was looking at that section with interest. She stopped at the exact spot where Riley had been perched and picked up the diaper package and placed it in her cart. In that instant, their eyes met. Caught in the act, Riley looked away; her mother had taught her that looking at strangers was rude. She blushed. In complete silence, the lady smiled at her and continued on her way. The little girl took one last look at the shelves filled with diapers and other baby products. She would have liked to buy them and use them. However, there was one detail that hammered in her head: she was an eleven-year-old girl and able to listen to her body, not a baby. She went back to find the speakers, putting this strange episode behind her and hoping it would not happen again. I am a big girl, she told herself. And big girls don't wear diapers. * The next day, Riley was there again looking at those shelves full of light blue packages of Pampers Baby-dry diapers stacked one on top of the other and one behind the other forming an impregnable wall. The real reason she was there was still a mystery, but she didn't care at that moment. She was itching to buy a pack of diapers and a package of wet wipes. She reassured herself by saying, "I'll take them now. I'm going to get them now. I'll take them now." As soon as he took the first step, he would immediately retract it. Then, the air grew tenser and tenser, and Riley tried harder and harder not to panic. She did this seven times in a row. "You still here too?" asked a soft voice. The little girl turned her head to her left; it was the woman she had seen twenty-four hours earlier, dressed in a slightly wrinkled dark blue overcoat and brand-new light blue pants. Her first thought was: What a strange coincidence. "Uh-huh," Riley replied, nodding. His heart began to beat faster. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only person in this lane," replied the adult in a friendly, cordial tone. "I forgot to take the wipes yesterday." The woman fetched them and then returned to Riley. "You seem nervous, are you all right little girl?" Riley nodded hastily, as well as giving an unbelievable smile. The woman looked behind her, then turned her focus back to the little girl with a questioning face. "Why are you here?" she asked as she lowered herself to her height, eyes as clear green as an expanse of grass on a sunny day. Quickly, she added, "If you don't mind me asking." Riley remained silent. Why was this woman asking her that question? Was she a woman who had ulterior motives? Where were the adults at that moment? She began to breathe nervously. The woman realized she was being impetuous toward her, so she repeated the question in a lighter, less inquisitive voice, "What brought you here, honey?" "I... I-I don't know," Riley stammered, taking a few steps back. "Maybe..." "You're interested in these things," replied the woman thoughtfully. "It's nothing wrong, you know." Her eyes lit up. The woman continued. "It's a curiosity that a lot of kids have, so there's nothing wrong with... going back to being a little baby and using baby things. " "Really?" "Yes," she replied, smiling, "you're not crazy, you're a normal kid. You're unique." Riley's eyes became glazed over and she rubbed them with the sleeve of her jacket. "I want to make you a proposition, so you are free to refuse," the woman began. "I'll buy you everything you need and drive you home. What do you say?" Without thinking, the little girl shook her head. Such a proposal could not be refused. And Riley already had a counter-proposal in mind to make to the mystery woman. She took courage and proposed to her, "I have the money and I want to take it... but the only thing I need... is... to know how it fits." The woman smiled. "Would you like me to put it on before we part?" Riley blushed embarrassed and looked away from her. No. No! This was going too far; her private parts remained private! The woman chuckled amusedly, "Just kidding, silly! Just lie on top of it, lift it up until you feel it over your belly, and attach the tapes. If you're having difficulty, watch a YouTube video." Riley nodded and in a low voice thanked the woman, before leaving her field of vision he ruffled her hair playfully and wished her good luck with everything. Would she see her again someday? She took a package of diapers, one of wet wipes and a lotion of moisturizer and walked to the cashier to pay. The cashier who had served her, a woman in her 60s, complimented her on being a diligent and responsible girl. She could not blush upon hearing those sweet words; she wished they had been true! Once outside the supermarket, she felt over the moon, and the smile on her face was proof of that. Now, it remained for her to go home and turn back the clock; the day had taken a decidedly more exciting direction than the usual monotony. 2 Once she got home, Riley put her backpack down in her corner and pulled out everything she had bought at the supermarket. After that, she took them to her room and slammed them inside the closet, to hide them better she decided to throw some of her clothes on it. This was fine for the time being; Mom and Dad rarely came into her room and rarely went to look inside her closet. He ate the last slice of margherita pizza left inside the oven. It tasted terrible, but she didn't care so much as long as it satiated her a little. When the impromptu lunch was finished, Riley put her plate and glass back in the kitchen sink and rinsed them quickly, then set them to drip in the cabinet above the sink, just as her father had taught her, who, in turn, had taught her mother. She always did her homework in the kitchen. Usually she would have done them in her room in absolute peace, but being home alone and having hidden in those four walls her diapers, she could not afford to fail in her school duties. "Business before pleasure," her parents often reiterated to her. Literature was one of the boring subjects she found interesting, especially when it came to writing a short text trying to take a cue from a story written by a famous author. This time, she had to write a short text where the main character thought about a long series of concerns regarding his future. Riley did not have to reread the text from which that exercise originated; she already had in mind what she had to write and set about doing it. It took her ten minutes, then she went on to do the homework for the other subjects. At five in the afternoon, Riley finished the last exercise in math, the subject he hated most in the world. She closed all the books she had on the table, stowed all the pens and pencils scattered in her pencil case, and put them back in the bookcase that preceded the threshold to enter the kitchen. Finally free! She ran to her room, nearly tripping, and closed the door behind her. She approached the closet, every fiber in her body was in trepidation, and her hands wasted no time in opening the doors and throwing onto the floor the clothes she had used hours earlier to hide her loot. She still couldn't believe it, she had actually taken them and they were in her room, waiting to be used. She took the package, the wipes and the cream; with clumsy movements she laid them on the floor and admired them as if she were looking at a treasure made of gold and precious jewels. "What am I waiting for?" she asked herself and opened the package of diapers. She took one out and opened it. She studied it for a moment. Delicate, soft and very stretchy. Perhaps too stretchy for what she had expected, obviously it was a garment that had to fit on a multitude of different sized babies. She would have no problem wearing it, she reflected, since these diapers were the largest size she had found on that shelf. It would have to fit. She placed the diaper on the floor. Before sitting on it, she pulled down her panties and underwear. She took a damp washcloth and gave it a wipe down there, then applied moisturizer. She sat on it-as the lady at the super market had told her-and pulled the front over her belly. She was succeeding, the diaper fit, everything was running smoothly, and it was too early to sing victory right away. She attached the left and right ribbons, the diaper was attached to her body. Riley let out a long sigh. Was she dreaming? Impossible, she could feel her skin telling her, "Hey Riley, you're wearing a diaper!" She wanted to really answer, but her mouth was unable to move. She was living the dream. She stood up, the diaper remained there firmly in its position. It's perfect! An idea came to her: her panties were the diaper she was wearing. She took off her shoes (which she had forgotten she still had on), then slipped off her pants and kicked them onto the bed. Her panties fell onto the soles of her feet, the final step was near. She removed her feet from both ends, picked up her pants and put them back on. She looked at herself in the mirror. There she was: Riley, a normal eleven-year-old girl. The little girl looked down at her bottom, the flat padding of her diaper suggesting that she was wearing one and not normal underwear. She opted to change them for jeans, they turned out to be a better choice, her bottom had taken on its normal shape. Within minutes, Riley tidied up her room. The package safely inside the closet with the wipes and lotion; the underpants and panties in the dirty laundry basket in the bathroom and the washcloth tossed in the basket, again, in the bathroom. Everything was clean and tidy as if she had never been there at any time of the day. Mom and Dad would never suspect. At that moment, the sound of the lock came straight to her ears, then the creak of the door led her from the stairs. "I'm home!" announced Helen, her mother, in a tired voice. "Riley?" "I'm here, Mom." Helen looked at her daughter at the top of the stairs and a reassuring smile formed on her face. "Are you all right?" Riley nodded, "Everything's fine. You?" "Tired" she replied, hanging up her jacket. "Done all your homework?" "All of them." "Great," her mother commented happily. "Now I'll start making dinner. Pasta tonight!" * Greg returned at seven o'clock in the evening. Like his wife, he was wiped out from the endless hours at the office, each day the load was getting heavier and heavier, and keeping up with the various deadlines was beginning to become untenable. Seeing his wife's muse-like face and his little girl again lifted his spirits. "Good evening!" Greg entered the kitchen and curtsied. Riley and her mother greeted him with excitement and enthusiasm. Especially Mom, who kissed him fleetingly so as not to lose focus on preparing dinner. To her, however, he gave her a big hug. The pasta was delicious. Mom had been good at cooking it, and each forkful of spaghetti was a one-way ticket to food heaven. Riley cleaned the plate twice. "Gee, Riley!" surprised Helen. "You were really hungry!" The little girl nodded, smiling. "I'll join in!" added Greg, then swallowed a rolled forkful of spaghetti. Helen and Riley laughed. Dinner continued smoothly. Greg and Helen talked about their days, one more messy than the other, and Riley sat listening to them trying to follow the river of their words. She imagined a long stream of water heading toward a waterfall. Riley did not understand why her imagination was making her see this. What was her head trying to say? Then she felt the stimulus down there, the first of the day, that said softly to her, "Pee!" Oh no... not now! Riley remained composed and calm, she was good at not showing her emotions and passing for a different emotional state than she really felt. Peeing at the dinner table? In front of her parents unaware that she was wearing a diaper? What if she wet her jeans? No, that's too risky! She could get up and go to the bathroom, however, she would have to pay attention to the loudness of the diaper tapes. Mom and Dad would surely have heard the tear. She had no other choice, so she let go. The warm pee all over her as if she had dived into the pool, in less than a few moments the absorbent layer of the diaper absorbed it all inexorably. She felt only an uncomfortable damp sensation. All in all, she liked it. Mom and Dad continued with their talk, never stopping for a glass of wine. At one point, Helen stopped and sniffed the air. Seeing her, Riley did likewise; there was a strange, intense smell. "But where is this smell coming from?" she asked suddenly as she looked around. Greg also sniffed and looked around. "What kind of stench is that?" Riley imitated their movements and behaviors. Now they catch me... Now they catch me... Now they're going to catch me.... MOM AND DAD ARE GOING TO CATCH ME! Riley got up from her seat and with slow, silent steps approached the kitchen exit. But her mother's voice planted her there just a few steps from the door. It was over. "Riley, would you come here for a second?" In a barely audible voice, the little girl said, "Uh-oh." * Helen was puzzled at the sight of the undergarment her daughter was wearing. She turned her gaze to her husband who, like her, had no idea what was going on. With the chandelier light pointed at her, Riley lay there on the table in the living room with her jeans down. Her swollen and yellowed diaper was partially covered by her pink long-sleeved shirt. The little girl had a sorry expression on her face, but she did nothing to hide it, and she did not feel like crying. She looked in vain for her parents' gaze. Helen lifted the girl's shirt in a slow movement, then felt the diaper. Heavy and definitely at the limit of its absorbent capacity. She brought both hands together to remove the left tape, but stopped when Riley spoke in a submissive voice, "Mom... I have everything... in my room." Helen pulled her hand away from the child's waist. "What, honey?" "It's all in my room." Greg went and returned, and in his hands was the opened package of diapers with only one diaper missing. The two adults realized he hadn't had it long. Helen then grabbed her by the arms and sat her down. He gave her a stern look. "We would like an explanation, young lady," her father spoke in a firm voice. Riley sighed defeatedly. "Yesterday, I went to the supermarket to get a small bottle of water. As I was looking for the checkouts, I came across the shelves of products for small children... I went back there today and got all this." Greg looked at Helen, then she took the floor, "Why did you buy diapers?" Riley did not answer. "Riley, answer your mother," her father urged her. "I wanted to... wear them... I wanted to try them on," her voice was about to break into tears. Before bringing her hands to her face to hide it, she concluded, "I just wanted to wear them." Silence. "Wait here, we'll be right back," his mother said, walking away with Greg in tow. * Sheltered in the garage, Greg watched Helen pacing back and forth, intent on finding a foothold in that unpleasant, constantly falling situation. He, too, was as confused as his consort, but he did not let panic drive him. He pondered for a long time, then asked her, "What are you going to do?" Helen replied tartly, "I don't know Greg!" "It doesn't look like anything scary to me. It's better than seeing her with drugs in her hand." Helen gasped impatiently. "Gregory, for God's sake, what are you saying?" "I'm saying it's nothing scary. It's just ... diapers." "Just diapers?" she exclaimed exhaustedly. "Just diapers..." he replied uncertainly. "But it's not the end of the world, Helen." "You think if I let her wear them, she'll be okay?" "That might be a good idea," Greg replied sympathetically. "Let's see how the situation develops and-" "And?" "And we'll decide later what to do," he concluded. "Now, how about we worry about her dirty diaper?" Helen watched the door and nodded conflictedly. "I'll need some help changing her, I'm pretty rusty, you know." "All right, now let's get back to her, please." * "Wipe," Helen said, and Greg handed it to her. After that she rubbed it around Riley's private regions, who was enjoying the moment. Once thoroughly cleaned, Helen lifted her bottom, removed her soiled diaper and ordered her trusty colleague a clean diaper. Her husband slipped it off the package and started playing with Riley as he had when she was smaller. As the two of them played, and with a decisive move, Helen stole the diaper from her husband's hands, opened it and tucked it under her daughter's bottom. In a commanding voice, she announced, "Cream?" Greg handed it to her. In no time, Helen slathered it on her and closed her diaper. The magical moment ended in that instant of silence. "Now off to bed, young lady! We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay?" her mother told her in a loving voice. "Okay," and the little girl ran toward the stairs. "Mom? Dad?" "Yes, honey?" her father asked. Riley opened her mouth to speak, but then had second thoughts, "Nothing, goodnight." 3 Her parents were already in the kitchen when she came downstairs. From behind the ajar door, Riley heard the vibrating noise of the coffee machine and the sounds Dad made when he sucked milk from his bowl. Neither of them was talking; what had happened last night had shaken them to the point that they could no longer have a normal conversation, Riley surmised. She could not go back up to her room, her mother would come to wake her up and ask questions again about the.... At that moment, Riley remembered the diaper she was wearing. It had been years since she had peed in bed, and now that she was wearing a diaper, her old problem was back. "Yikes," she said as she pulled her pajama pants forward and looked at the bulging diaper. "Riley?" her mother called her from the kitchen. "Honey, is that you?" Riley pushed open the door. "Good morning." "Did you sleep well?" asked her father cozily. Riley nodded and sat down in her usual place. After that, her mother also joined them, holding her cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Are you okay ... down there?" her mother asked curiously, catching sight of the little girl's pants. "Um..." stammered Riley impishly. "Maybe not." "Don't worry," her mother snapped at her in a soothing tone, "later, we'll fix it." "Okay." "Do you want cereal or cookies with a bowl of warm milk?" her father proposed as he stood up. "I'm not... in the mood... in the mood for breakfast, Dad." "Are you sure?" "Yes," replied Riley confidently. "In your opinion, am I crazy?" Both Greg and Helen were horrified by her question. They looked at each other for a moment, without thinking twice Greg reassured her, "No, no, no. You are not crazy, you are perfect just the way you are." Riley's eyes began to glaze over. "Even though ... I want to wear diapers? Even though ... I'm 11 years old?" Greg opened his mouth to answer, but Helen beat him to the timing. In a firm, loving voice she said, "Yes. If that's what you want, we'll let you." "Really?" the little girl asked, wiping away a tear that ran down one eye. Then she looked her mother straight in the eye. "Yes," she reassured her. "But there will be rules." Riley looked at her mother and father interdictedly. "Rules? What kind of rules?" Greg was also puzzled, but said nothing. Her mother Helen resumed speaking. "If you want to wear a diaper, just tell us and we'll put it on. This implies that only Dad and I will be able to change you and, most importantly, check it if you had an "accident." "If you would not like to wear it and put on big girl panties, just tell us and we will accommodate you. This is first rule. All clear?" "Yes," Riley answered truthfully. She had never taken her eyes off her mother throughout the whole talk. "Second rule: the diaper issue stays between us. It will be our secret. You will only wear it when it's just the three of us. Before you ask, you won't wear it at school, the reason you can guess for yourself," Helen explained. "Fair enough," commented the 11-year-old. "Can I wear it when I go out with you?" "Yes," replied Greg confidently. "I remind you that only Mom and I are aware of your 'secret.' Keep that in mind." "Are there any other rules?" asked Riley innocently. "Nothing else comes to mind at the moment," said Greg then asked his consort, "Do you have any other rules in mind?" "I have nothing to add at the moment." "I do have an addition in mind," Riley spoke cautiously. "But it's not a rule, can I make it anyway?" Helen and Greg exchanged a doubtful look, but they both wanted to hear what their little girl had to say. It was Helen who gave her the floor. "I'd like to get some pull-ups," Riley began determinedly, and seeing the doubtful looks from her parents, she had to make a long speech, "They're panties that are also diapers. If I started wearing diapers, I would start peeing or doing number two without me knowing it. With pull-ups I can go to the bathroom as if I were wearing regular panties. "They are easier to put on. You would rip the sides and slip it on like regular panties. They also have a symbol on the front to tell if I need to be changed." "I have two questions," Greg said puzzled. "When would you wear them? Then, how do you know all these things?" "I'll answer the second question: it's all written on their packages. Answering the first, I could put them on alternately with my underwear to stay trained to go to the bathroom at all times," the little girl answered excitedly. "They can also come in handy for going out," commented Helen. "I think we've talked enough, how about we go get ready?" "To go where, Mom?" "We're going shopping, honey," replied her mother, taking her by the hand and walking her out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?" asked Greg curiously. "We're going to get ready," replied Helen playfully. "Someone needs a clean diaper." * Riley was surprised by her mother's skill and care in cleaning her and putting on her new diaper. The night before it seemed like it was one of the first times she had done it; today, however, she was a veteran with a long experience behind her. "Done," her mother told her as she attached the last tape. "Get changed and remember to put on something that will hide the diaper better." The little girl opted for a long dark green sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans. In front of the mirror, even she could not tell if she was wearing a diaper. Great, I'm ready. Thirty minutes later, mother and daughter, hand in hand, entered the supermarket. Helen was struck to see that sincere smile on her daughter's face. She could not remember when was the last time she had seen her smile like that. Finding the pull-ups was as easy as drinking a glass of water. Riley was over the moon in grabbing the package. Seeing the caricatures of cartoon characters on a pink background left her speechless. She found them as gorgeous as the diaper she was wearing. After paying, they returned home. Once they returned, Helen took the opportunity to check her diaper. She took her to herself, pulled down her jeans and felt her well: she had peed, she had peed a lot! She led her to her room, The little girl threw herself on the bed, eager to be changed clean. "Mom, can I put on one of the pull-ups?" asked Riley as her mother opened her diaper. She grabbed a washcloth and set about cleaning her private parts. Not thinking much about it, she replied, "All right, but when you have to go to the bathroom you have to tell us." Having finished cleaning her thoroughly and applying the cream, Helen helped Riley put on her first pull-up. The little girl did, quite literally, jump for joy. "How are they?" asked her mother. "It's a cross between a diaper and underwear. They are so comfortable!" replied the 11-year-old happily. Helen rolled up the soiled diaper, then said to her, "I'm going to make lunch. Remember to go to the bathroom and rememtell us, okay?" "Okay, Mom," she slipped on her jeans. Just before her mother came out of her room, Riley called her. "Thank you," she told her. Helen smiled at her and left. For a moment, Riley felt like the luckiest little girl in the world. 4 The following Monday, as per routine, Riley went to school and came home. The day had given her quite a few surprises: a surprise history test, a math quiz, and pair work in art class. She had done the test and the quiz to the best of her knowledge, all thanks to her method of study that allowed her to defend herself well even in the most reluctant questions. Surely the test went well, she told herself. The art hour, however, put her to the test. She had never had much inclination for artistic and creative subjects-except for writing where she felt she had mastered the real thing-too abstract and poorly understood. Had it not been for Theo to guide her, the blank canvas would have become her definitive work that would have enshrined her in the long line of bad artists. Theo. It was rare that a classmate of hers intruded into her endless stream of thought. It seemed to her that she was discovering his existence for the first time. Like her, he was shy, solitary and unreachable. Those thoughts made her lose her appetite, so she went to her room to put on some more comfortable clothes to stay in, including putting on a pull-up. She grabbed her backpack and immediately set out to do her homework; she planned to spend the afternoon doing whatever she wanted. With the last science exercise completed, the little girl stood up and stretched. The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that she had skipped lunch, she looked at the clock: it was two o'clock in the afternoon. She had better eat something. She put a piece of frozen pizza in the microwave oven, set the temperature and time - 10 minutes - and pressed the "START" button. She waited sitting at the table. The ringing of the phone made its way through all the rooms,m until it reached the kitchen. Riley sprinted to the living room where the phone was located, picked up the handset and in a nervous voice said, "Hello?" "Hey, Riley, it's Theo," said the voice with a bit of insecurity. "Am I disturbing you?" "Hey, Theo," she greeted him, then answered happily, "no bother. Tell me everything." "I just wanted to ask you how you found yourself working with me today," he said cautiously. "I saw you ... angry, I wanted to know how you were." Riley bit his lower lip, and without his noticing a drop of pee ended up in her diaper. Theo was telling the truth, during that hour of class she felt like a complete wimp, a no-good. At one point, just before the end of class, she roared all her frustration at him. She sighed thinking back to those thirteen seconds that seemed interminable, then answered him in a sincere voice, "I'm fine. I've calmed down and..." She paused to sigh again. "I'm sorry I acted that way. It usually doesn't happen to me to-" "Of not being able to do something right?" the companion on the other side added promptly. "I know how that feels." Riley smiled, wondering if Theo could have seen it. No, he couldn't have seen her; who knows where he lives!" she told herself. "So, do you forgive me?" "Even if you didn't apologize to me, I'd still forgive you," Theo said casually. "Would you like to come over and finish the task?" She missed a beat. Had she heard correctly? A classmate of hers asking her to come over? Yes, she had understood correctly. She would have wanted to say yes immediately, but what if Mom and Dad had said no? Riley answered uncertainly, "I have to talk to my parents about it first. If I'm not mistaken, your parents should have their numbers? At least they should have my mom's." Theo muttered something (or so it seemed to Riley). "Yes, my mom told me she has both, but she prefers you to talk to them directly." Riley brought her hand to his temple in disbelief. Of course she was going to talk to them directly about it! He replied, "When they come back I will talk to them about it. Let's stay that way for now." "Alright, I'll talk to you later or possibly tomorrow," he concluded, then said goodbye to her, "Have a great rest of your day. Bye Riley!" "You too, Theo! Bye!" and hung up. At that exact moment, the squeaky, annoying sound of the oven alerted her that her snack was ready. She jumped off the couch, but something stopped her on the spot. What the... The little girl touched the front of her pull-up. It was hot and the front symbol was slightly faded, but it wouldn't be long before it disappeared completely. "I better go pee before I get it all over me," she confuted to herself aloud, as if there was another person with her, and went to the bathroom. * The pizza tasted like cardboard. The tomato and cheese had lost their distinctive flavors; the dough was the only decent thing that managed to convince her to go all the way through it, every last bite. The cold pull-up began to bother her, especially between her legs. Rule one was pretty clear. If you want to wear a diaper, just tell us and we'll put it on. This implies that only Daddy and I will be able to change you and, most importantly, check it if you had an "accident." When she put on the pull-up, Riley had not heeded to the rules they had imposed on her that Saturday morning. She couldn't wait for Mommy (or Daddy) to come home and clean her up and put a clean diaper on her. They would come to know that she had transgressed one of the rules. She made up her mind: she would tell the truth. She thought back to what had happened that night. She brought her legs against his chest and hugged them, their puzzled faces still well in her mind. At that moment she made a promise to herself: No more secrets and no more lies to Mom and Dad. To chase those thoughts away, she went up to the second floor, went to her room to get a book and headed for the bathroom to pee. * Riley was engrossed in reading that she paid no attention to her mother entering the house. In fact, it was her appearance in the kitchen that brought her back to reality. The little girl began to break into a cold sweat. "I didn't know you were reading," Helen exclaimed in surprise. "Did you do all your homework?" Riley nodded a nervous smile. She was not good at masking her emotions, and Helen immediately sensed that something was wrong. She asked her, "Honey, is something wrong?" Riley suddenly got up from her chair with still that smile that Helen found annoying. She hastily replied, "Yes, yes, yes, Mom! Everything is fine! I'm just glad you're back!" Helen gave her a guarded look. "Why are you acting like this? It's not like you." True, Riley couldn't blame her; she couldn't explain that strange behavior. She gave a tense giggle, then calmed herself by taking three deep breaths. There, she was about to tell her, "Mom, do you remember the rules you gave me for diapers?" Her mother nodded and crossed her arms. He looked her straight in the eye, from her face she was not at all pleased. She asked in a haughty tone, "Are you wearing one now and need to be changed?" "I'm wearing a pull-up," the sorry little girl hastened to say. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." Helen looked up at the ceiling. "I should have expected you to wear one in our absence. By the way, again!" Riley looked down guiltily, turning her toes back over each other. Helen continued brooding, but on the verge of scolding her. "I appreciate you telling me, Riley. However, your father and I gave you rules for a reason. These aren't toys; they can harm your health if misused. Being in one of those things for a long time could give you a skin rash. Do you understand?" She turned her gaze to her and nodded. "Now we're going to go up and give you a good cleaning," he told her. "Until I talk it over with your father, you're going to wear big girl panties. Diapers and pull-ups are off-limits!" "All right," Riley said, and her mother escorted her to the bathroom. * "Today I got a call from Theo, a classmate of mine," Riley began as her mother removed her dirty pull-up. "We have an art assignment we have to finish. He asked if I would be free to go to his house tomorrow. Do I have your permission to go?" Helen rubbed her nether regions well and then replied, "We'll talk about it tonight over dinner with your father, okay?" "Okay," replied Riley meekly and let her mother finish cleaning her. "No diaper? Not even for the night?" Helen shot her the look. Riley sighed in disappointment. "Understood." "Would you tell me what you understood?" her mother questioned her in a stern voice. "I understood that not following the rules has consequences." "So?" "You will not put me in a diaper now or before going to bed." "What will you do before you go to bed?" "I will go to the bathroom and pee like a big girl." "I guess you've learned your lesson, at least for now," Helen concluded contentedly. 5 Riley remained silent for most of dinner. The talk she had with her mother in the bathroom monopolized her thoughts; she began to think that they would confiscate her diapers and throw them into oblivion. He found rule one unfair, why could only her mother and father get their hands on her diaper, despite the fact that she had managed to put on a diaper by herself without anyone's help? Adults are weird!" she thought. "You're quiet today," her father began curiously, "did something happen?" Riley looked up from her empty plate and looked at her mother. With her gaze, she was telling her to tell her father what she had done. "Yes, something happened," the little girl replied indifferently. "In fact, two things happened." "Which one do you want to start with?" interjected Helen, feigning curiosity. "A classmate of mine called me today," Riley began a tad excitedly, "Theo Bennett. We have to finish our pair work for Professor Towers, he asked if I could go to his house tomorrow to finish the project and do homework together." "I don't see why not," Greg drank a glass of wine. Then he turned to his consort, "Did you say yes too?" Helen smiled at him. "Yes. Her friend lives nearby and His parents are willing to have her as a guest for lunch. So of problems we don't have any, is it okay for you to pick her up in the evening? That way I have time to take care of some chores around the house." Greg nodded and smiled at his daughter. He commented happily, "I didn't think you had a friend!" "Yeah," Riley laughed nervously. He didn't really consider Theo a friend; he was more of an acquaintance, almost a stranger. Who knows why his father had already labeled him as his friend? "What about the other thing?" asked Greg then casually. Riley's face darkened for a moment; she felt the conversation would take a turn for the worse. She sensed her mother's stern look. Okay Riley, you can do it. It's like an interrogation: beginning, explanation, conclusion. "Here..." the little girl spoke softly. "Today I... wore a pull-up on the sly." A contented smile took shape on Helen's face, glad to hear Riley admit her mistake and direct it to her better half. Greg sighed dejectedly. "So, you're telling us you wore a diaper in our absence?" "Pull-up, Greg," Helen corrected him. Greg quickly repeated his question, but corrected. "Yes, Daddy," Riley replied sadly. "That's the first thing I did when I came home. Then Mom came and I told her everything. I'm sorry." "Did you pee there?" asked her father tensely. Helen intervened, "From what I understood, yes and no. She had peed some before I came back, then she peed again just before I changed her and cleaned her up. So, she did it twice." Riley blushed full of embarrassment. Was that a detail to point out? "Is she wearing another one now?" asked Greg to his wife, forgetting his daughter's presence. "Big girl's panties," Helen replied. "I have a punishment in mind to give her for transgressing the rule." "Shall we talk about it now? In front of her?" "No," Helen replied, remembering that Riley was there with them. "There's something I'd like to point out to both of you." She paused. As long as she had all eyes on her, Helen continued with her speech, "This is especially about you, Riley. Today while I was changing you, I noticed that you hadn't given yourself a good scrubbing down there. Tell me out of curiosity, did you go to the bathroom once today?" "Yes, I went," replied Riley downcast. "After I noticed that I had slightly wet my pull-up." "You gave yourself a scrub, didn't you?" Her mother asked. Riley shook her head. "You know that after you pee you have to clean yourself up down there," her mother scolded her. "That's why I've decided that every time you come out of the bathroom, you have to come to me so I can take a look at you. We'll start tonight." Riley did not protest. Her mother was right; she could do nothing but humor her. "All right." A brief silence followed, and both Greg and Helen got up with their dishes in hand to go put them back in the dishwasher. Riley sat there in her seat, her fear of no more diapers making her eyes glaze over. "Will you take them away from me forever?" asked Riley fearfully. Both her parents approached her. "No," her mother consoled her. "We don't want to take away your diapers, if you want to take them, we won't object. We are doing this to teach you, to teach you to be more responsible." Riley pulled up her nose. "Why can't I wear them by myself?" "Because we want to take care of you," her mother promptly replied. "As well as making sure you get cleaned properly." "Thank you," said Riley and hugged her mother, then hugged her father as well. "We are here, honey," her father told her, then her daughter broke the hug. Riley took her plate and put it in the dishwasher, next to her parents' plates. She helped them clear the table and then they went to the living room to watch a movie. * "Am I disturbing you?" asked Helen in a low voice. She was in the doorway to her bedroom. "No, tell me," replied Riley and closed the book he was reading. "Come in." "I've come to take you to the bathroom," she announced, holding out her hand to her daughter. "Even if you don't run away, I want to make sure you go to the bathroom before you go to sleep." Riley grasped her hand and let herself be carried away. She did not find this new custom fair; she was a big girl, not a little girl. "Mom! I'm 11, I know when I have to go to the bathroom!" whined Riley. "I know," laughed her mother. "But sometimes, moms want to make sure their kids go to the bathroom before they go to sleep." Entering the bathroom, without letting go, Helen positioned Riley in front of the toilet. The little girl felt uncomfortable; her mother's presence put her under great stress. She wanted to tell her, but nothing would change her mind about going out and giving her a moment of privacy. Her mother knelt down and proceeded to gently lower her pants, Riley could not help but blush. After that, she told her softly, "What are you waiting for? Sit down and try it." The little girl obeyed resignedly, as well as red in the face like a tomato. The toilet was cold, but her mother's reassuring gaze caught her attention. She smiled at her and let go. "All done?" she asked her as soon as the tapping turned to silence and the little girl nodded confidently. "Good, now on your feet." Riley stood up, then her mother tore off three pieces of toilet paper. With gentle forward motions she cleaned it under there. She repeated those gestures five times, subsequently flushing the paper down the toilet. Riley recognized the pattern; she used to do this when she was younger. Same care and gentleness, she seemed to have gone back in time. "That's how you should wipe," she concluded in a calm, teacher's voice. "Always forward, never backwards. Minimum five times, if you want to be sure give it three more passes. All clear?" "All clear," she answered truthfully, lifting her underpants and underwear in one go. "Thank you, Mommy." "You're welcome. I'm going to bed," announced her mother as she returned to her feet. "Flush and brush your teeth. Oh, before I forget, tomorrow when you come back, I'll take a look at you. Good night, honey." "Good night, Mommy," he told her before squeezing the flush lever. * "What did you have in mind?" asked Greg already under the covers. "I don't know yet," replied Helen doubtfully. "We could use diapers as a reward when she behaves." "Helen," he spoke exasperatedly, "she is a good girl. She studies and behaves well." "A good girl sneaks a pack of diapers, puts one on and pees in front of her parents?" pointed out Helen annoyed. "She didn't even follow the rules we gave her on Saturday!" "I don't understand why you have to punish her." "Greg, she sneaked a diaper!" reminded Helen, her voice frustrated. "When did we put her in a diaper?" began Greg meditatively. "Monday through Friday, only in the evening and at night. Saturday and Sunday she could wear it all day. You know what I mean?" Helen furrowed her brow. "No." "Riley doesn't enjoy them enough. Only two days. No wonder she wants to sneak them on," Greg enlightened her. "And you want to punish her even though she told you the truth." "We can't help it, our jobs keep us away from her," Helen replied. "She won't bring them this weekend, that's decided." "Then you don't understand," blurted Greg. "When she brings it, she's happy. Even with the pull-ups, she's happy. Isn't that clear to you?" "It's quite clear to me," Helen replied curtly. "I want to teach her that choices have consequences. When we had caught her with that dirty diaper, we did nothing. "I don't want Riley to get into this bad habit of doing what she wants on the sly." Greg got up and went to sit beside his wife and kissed her left cheek. "She would never do that," he said in a sultry voice. "You know the thing she hates most is to hurt us. That's why she told you the truth today." A tear streaked down her face. "Do you think she'll take it badly if I tell her she can't wear diapers this weekend?" "Will she take it badly? Yes, definitely." "It's decided, this is her punishment." "You know I'm against it right?" "Yes, but you'll have to humor me this time," Helen concluded and began to snog him. 6 Theo no longer had the strength to hold his head up to pay attention to the lesson of Mrs. Daniels, the literature teacher. He had the crazy idea of resting his head on his desk, his nose and forehead attached closely to the notebook paper. He did not care if the middle-aged woman saw him and scolded him. Riley, unlike her desk mate, could keep up with her lengthy explanations. Eyes following her every movement and her right hand writing on the notepad every word that came from her thick lips. Mrs. Daniels walked over to the blackboard and began to draw a diagram that looked like an upside-down tree. At the top and middle she wrote "How to write a horror story" and drew three arrows far apart. "How do you keep from falling asleep?" asked Theo in a low voice at one point. "I stay awake and listen," she answered quietly. Theo changed position. He stretched out his arms on the bench and rested his chin on the bench. She said in a half-asleep voice, "I can't wait for it to be over." She wanted it too, damn right she did! Riley felt she was at the end of her rope. Listening and writing at the same time took a large chunk of her energy, which, after four hours of class, she had none left. To avoid falling behind, the 11-year-old began writing as fast as she could; readability would suffer greatly. Half an hour later, the last bell of the day rang. Mrs. Daniels said she would explain the third arrow the next day, but the buzz of her students' voices prevented her words from reaching their ears. Getting angry was useless now. She grabbed her smartphone and took a picture of the blackboard, then began to put all her things in her backpack. For her, too, the day had turned to an end. "Mrs. Daniels?" a female voice called to her that she recognized. "Yes, Riley?" "You dropped this," she said and handed her dirty, weather-worn blue case. "I thought something was missing," she exclaimed in surprise as she grabbed the object. Most likely it had fallen from the desk during the general marasmus. She thanked her in a kind voice, then asked, "Do you have any doubts about today's class?" "Um..." she hinted uncertainly as she flipped through her notepad. "I actually would have one." Mrs. Daniels looked at her watch. It was 1:20 in the afternoon. She had to go to lunch with her colleagues and was, punctually, late. "You will bring it to me tomorrow, I really have to run now. Study mind you," she told her mortified and hurried out. "Of course she has to run," the little girl commented irritably and set off to join her friend downstairs. * "So," Theo began thoughtfully, "what do you think about . um... geography?" Riley thought about it before giving her answer. She loved geography. Finding out the customs, the lifestyle of the inhabitants, the strengths of the economy, and the brief history of a state in the world excited her so much. Unfortunately, this subject fell into the "I hate this subject because of the teacher" group. "Nice for goodness sake," replied Riley holding back an edge of anger, "but Mr. Johnson is making me hate it." "Then it's a common thought," Theo said, then asked her another question. "Let's get off the subject of school shall we? What do you do in your spare time?" I sneak around and use diapers! Ha ha ha! If I answered him like that, he would think I was crazy. Ha ha ha ha! Riley held back a laugh at that thought, although there was nothing funny about it. Theo looked at her puzzled. "Never mind," Riley hastened to say, "I read and write. Do you?" "I read too!" gave a toothy grin Theo, nearly baring her way. "What kind of books do you read?" Riley hinted with a smile. If she had had a diaper on, she would have peed from excitement. But at that moment she didn't have one, so she had to restrain herself as any big girl would. She cleared her throat, then answered him, "I mainly read fantasy books, occasionally I read normal books." "Normal books?" "Books that are not in the fantasy or science fiction genre," she explained to him. "Mom is convinced that I like them a lot, so she gets them for me." "For example?" asked Theo curiously. He seemed to know the genres in question. "The last ones she got me are about friendship, simple and mundane and without any elements that manage to stand out from other books dealing with the same topics," Riley accentuated her feeling of annoyance toward the end. "Sometimes I wonder why my mother gets me such books, even though I don't like them." "Do you remember the names by any chance?" asked Theo without losing interest. "I ask because I only read those kinds of books." "Books about friendship?" "No, children's fiction books," Theo pointed out. "The fantasy genre doesn't appeal to me much." "Oh," said Riley slightly disappointed. "Anyway, the names of those books are When We Were Together and Ashes. I could have done without reading them." Theo retorted offended, "You can't say Ashes sucks! It's the only one that manages to touch chords that other books in the same genre can't!" "For example?" questioned Riley in a defiant tone. "The whole story revolves around the so-called 'invisible string theory,' " Theo began to explain, "according to which a person is nothing more than the center of an infinite set of strings that connect him to other centers-which are other people. I point out right away that this does not exist in reality, but still, the protagonist - Paul - becomes the epicenter of the pain of every single character he interacts with. "This is where the main themes of the story surface: the desire to connect to others and the outside hand that helps those who are suffering. Paul is a loner, whether he likes it or not he needs to be around people, so he joins the group of losers ignored by everyone and constantly targeted by bullies. "As he spends his time with them he realizes that he too has his own limitations and difficulties to overcome. So he decides to help them overcome their fears and difficulties, they also do the same for him. When Richard and Izzy die in the car accident, Paul begins to wonder if all this connecting with each other is really worth it, so he becomes the spark that destroys all the strings that bind to him. "Needless to say, this is his reaction to their death and that talking to someone about it kept him from destroying the last, most important bonds he still had: his new friends and his family. The ending in which he and his friends throw their ashes at the lake where they first met is the symbol-and the title-of the play." Riley stood in silence surprised to have heard an explanation that only she could have brought up if she had discussed it with another person who was not interested in books. Theo was a reader like her; his attention to detail was identical to hers. It was true!" she told herself. It had not happened in her head! It had happened for real! "Wow!" was the only thing she managed to say. Then Theo stopped in front of an empty driveway that led to a two-story white house. "Here we are. This is my house, welcome!" In that instant, Riley realized that she had removed from her mind the fact that she and Theo were walking to his house. Their conversations had overridden their perceptions of reality, at least hers since Theo was in charge of taking her to his house. They had passed by her house and she had not even noticed! She felt lost for a moment. Mom was right, he lived not very far from her house and the other dwellings were very reminiscent of hers. Getting lost was impossible; she would find her way back in no time. The kids approached the front door. Theo rang the doorbell and saw Riley looking around, but it did not take her long to realize that it was the same porch she had at home. They were greeted by her father, Hank Bennett. An all-American man, broad-shouldered and fully fit, he wore a tank top and long pants. Both the 11-year-olds were speechless to see him in such attire in the middle of winter. "Hey, guys!" Hank greeted them, then turned to the little guest. "You must be Riley, very nice to meet you!" "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Bennet," replied the little girl politely, then proceeded to remove her jacket. "Call me Hank," the man quickly put in an amused manner. "I may be an adult, but I'm not that adult, you know? I still feel like a 20-year-old kid!" Both Theo and Riley burst into thunderous laughter. "Take off your shoes and go wash your hands, lunch is ready," announced Hank and then hurriedly headed for the kitchen. In the bathroom, Riley was the first to wash her hands. Theo suggested that she go first because he had been told that, and I quote, males must know how to behave well with females, as they are the fairer sex, so they had to go first. Hearing this, Riley had to hold back laughter. "Really?" was his response. Theo replied gallantly, "Yes, milady. You ladies are viewed differently than we gentlemen. Therefore, we ask you not to express criticism of our manner." This time she could not hold them back and burst out laughing for the second time; he had been in her house for just over ten minutes and was already fighting not to pee her pants from the laughs. 7 Mr. Bennett had cooked excellent steaks: flavorful, slightly spicy and cooked to the right temperature. Riley filled and cleaned her plate three times; as luck would have it, he had cooked about ten small and medium-sized steaks. Theo was the one who ate the least out of all of them; he justified himself by saying that he did not have much of an appetite. Lunch finished, the two friends helped Mr. Bennet clear the table, after which he left them on his way to his office. Theo explained to Riley that his father worked from home on certain days of the week, and today was one of those days. It would have been nice if her parents had that chance too, the little girl thought to herself. Three o'clock in the afternoon. The two eleven-year-olds were already at work on their couple's project in the kitchen, the only space in the house large enough for them to work on. The week before, Mrs. Towers assigned their class a job to do in pairs: draw a city where the real stars were the buildings. No streets, just buildings and the sky. She would grade all the work and give both components the same grade. She left the barbaric task of creating the pairs to the students, who, in addition to generating chaos, formed balanced pairs. Riley and Theo balanced each other well. She, an excellent art history student and bad artist, and he, a good art history student and very talented artist. Theo came up with a definite idea of how to make the city, the object on which their delivery was based. Four skyscrapers arranged in the shape of a trapezoid, the two forming the minor base in the foreground and the other two - making up the major base - following and well away from the sides of the sheet; surrounded by other buildings with windows colored in colors other than yellow, intended to color all the windows in the trapezoid. Riley, art denier that she was, approved of the idea, but on the condition that they make an informed choice of colors. And there they were, passing the colors around and coloring the multitudes of white squares that remained. Yellow windows (the first ones the duo colored), reds, oranges, pinks, greens, blues, magentas, purples and many other colors caught the attention of anyone who looked at them. The sky was still white with gray insignia of the Moon and the clouds passing in the midst of those black towers, they told themselves that would be the last part they would color. They had set a list for themselves: draw the buildings and skyscrapers with windows; color the windows; draw the clouds; and finally, color them together with the sky. Compared to the time in the classroom, Riley was more relaxed and more confident in coloring the white spaces. Moreover, the silence that enveloped the kitchen room kept her glued to her task. From time to time, she cast glances at her friend to make sure he was doing his part. It wasn't necessary; Theo was devoting his heart and soul to coloring buildings and windows and, every few seconds, supervising their work. It's definitely coming along nicely. Theo and I are not a bad team after all. An hour later, Theo put down the purple marker and gave a tired sigh. Then he asked his friend, "How many windows do we have left?" Riley finished coloring the last window with red and announced it contentedly in a very high tone of voice, after realizing this she apologized. Theo raised his arms to the ceiling in victory. Exhausted, he said, "We are almost at the end." At that point, Riley got up from her seat. "Where's the bathroom, Theo?" "Up, turn left and first door to the left," he answered her in the same voice. "While you go to the bathroom, I'm going to stop and recover too. I'm beat!" Riley walked out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. He went up to the second floor and turned to the left, as Theo had told him moments earlier, and looked for the bathroom door with his eyes. There it was! It was a plain white door; she lowered the handle and stepped inside. The bathroom furniture was all light blue, like the diaper packaging she had at home, while the walls were a strange white. He observed it closely; it was a white with light blue undertones. So the dominant color of the bathroom was light blue, she told herself and walked to the toilet that was at the end of the room. In front of the toilet, a dark sky-blue dresser stood toward the ceiling, it looked as if it might touch it, but the thin deep black space gave the 11-year-old confirmation that the cabinet was not in contact with the ceiling. Beautiful, she thought as he squared it from top to bottom. She counted six in total. She looked at it again for the second time. The last drawer was open, inside it a package of diapers was illuminated by the light coming from the window. She recognized them; they were Pampers Baby-Dry overnight diapers. Overnight diapers -- wait a minute, does Theo pee in bed? Riley ignored that question and ignored the contents of that drawer. She pulled down her pants and... gasped in disbelief. Her panties were slightly wet, the smell of pee plugged her nose. Oh, come on! Wasting no more time, she pulled them down and sat on the toilet. Theo's diapers and her panties' smell became her fixed thoughts for that minute sitting to relieve herself. It couldn't be true. * In forty minutes, the work was finished and all imperfections removed. Riley and Theo were satisfied, especially him since it had been his idea. "What grade do you think we'll get?" asked Theo of her. "I don't know... maybe an A," Riley replied slightly nervously. "I doubt we'll get a bad grade!" Theo smiled at her, then took the drawing and put it inside the clear envelope he had brought it home with the week before, then put it inside his backpack, being careful not to crumple it. After that, he told her happily, "Mrs. Towers will be impressed with our work." "Mmh-mmh," Riley quipped casually, thinking about the wet underwear against her skin. Mom would surely take her back. "Would you like to see my room?" proposed Theo to her. "I'd like to show you my bookcase." "All right," Riley answered him, smiling. She felt the need to distract herself from everything and turn off her brain. On the stairs, Theo said, "I'm going to the bathroom and then I'll join you. My room is the third door on the right." Suddenly, Riley stopped on the last step terrified. Now? Right now you have to go to the bathroom, Theo? Then in the same bathroom where your diapers are in full view? Oh... maybe I'd better tell him. "Wait a moment, Theo," she hesitated in a serious tone. "There's something I have to tell you." "Can't you wait a few minutes?" the friend implored her. "I'll come in and out." No, I can't wait! In fact, I don't want to wait! "Theo, I saw them!" admitted Riley apologetically. "I went in and saw the open drawer." Theo's face darkened. Riley recognized that expression, even that state of mind. She felt guilty, the same guilt she had when her parents caught her with a diaper on. "So... now you know about my little secret." Riley nodded. "I won't tell anyone, I promise." "I know you won't," Theo told her like it was nothing, then smiled. Silence. "I know you have a lot of questions for me, but I'm going to go to the bathroom first and then we'll talk about it," Theo said as he headed for the bathroom in small steps. Before taking his leave, he reminded her, "Third door on the right!" * Boring. Boring. Super boring! Boring. My goodness, pure boredom! Boring. Riley was standing in front of Theo's bookcase in her room. She was studying the various books he had and, reluctantly, could not find one that would pique her interest. She began to wonder if Theo took those stories seriously. From the titles alone, which were trite and not at all profound - except for "Ashes," which reevaluated her - she could already imagine the other stories. "Gee, Theo," she said boredly. "Besides Ashes, you don't have any exciting books." "I expected this answer from you," he said as he entered his room. Riley jumped in fear. Had she spoken too loudly again? After that, she sat on her bed and watched Theo take two random books from the bookshelf. There was something about him that did not convince her, her eyes studied his butt. Why is his butt so... big? The friend made a leap to grab a book, failed. So he made another, this time succeeding. Twice, his ears picked up rough sounds reminiscent of typical paper noises. At that point, Riley understood: Theo was wearing the night diaper he had seen in the bathroom. What had he put it on for? "Here," Theo told her, handing her two of his books. Ashes and When We Were Together, the two books they had talked about before entering the house. He added hopefully, "Reread them and then tell me what you think." Riley raised her right eyebrow, not understanding this last sentence. "If you want to try to change my mind, you're way off base. Besides, I already have these two at home." Theo resumed them mortified. "I had forgotten we talked about them, but read them again anyway." "Why?" Theo put them on his desk. "Your idea can change you know?" The friend wasted no time in thinking it over. So, she replied doubtfully, "Okay." After that, Theo sat beside Riley on the bed, keeping his distance to respect her "boundaries." He had never stopped smiling. "Whatever questions you have in mind, ask me," his friend prodded her. "Why are you wearing a diaper?" Embarrassed Theo looked down, but pretended not to. How had she guessed he was wearing one? He replied surprised, "I wanted to put it on." "But aren't you supposed to put it on before you go to bed?" "Yes, but sometimes I put it on long before I go to bed," Theo explained, scratching the back of his head. "My parents let me, but as long as I take it off, do what I have to do, and then put it back on. They check on me a lot to make sure I'm following the rules." Riley nodded. Like at home, her parents had given her rules, albeit different ones, and they wanted to make sure she stayed safe. But to Theo, diapers were like regular underwear-that was the subtle difference that made them different. She would have liked to tell him that she wore diapers too, but after what happened recently and her promise, she let that desire disappear from her mind. "Every once in a while... you think you want to... try to... you know," Riley stammered, but she did not understand why. Theo answered naturally; he was just at ease. "Yes, every now and then. Then it comes back to me that I do it in my sleep and the urge goes away. Also because my mom shudders when she has to take it off me. She hates to get her hands on something messy like my diaper after a good night's sleep." "I understand," replied Riley sadly. "It can't be easy for any of you." "Mom and Dad keep trying new methods to get me to stop," Theo admitted bitterly, as if it were an impossible problem to solve. "As I told you, it's my mother who puts it on and takes it off. Occasionally my father does it, but he is not good at cleaning down there. Even though he is a male like me, sometimes it hurts me. That's why I prefer my mother." Riley wanted to tell him, she didn't want to make him feel lonely. That's what she had sensed in his voice. Also mixed in were innocence and regret for being that way. No one has to know, Riley. Just me, Mom and Dad! The three of us! Silence. Riley couldn't resist a minute longer. "Theo, I have a secret too," she began cautiously and truthfully. "I wear diapers, too." "Bedwetting is a common thing among us eight-to-thirteen-year-olds," Theo revealed for the purpose of curiosity. "You don't understand, I wear them all the time," Riley sputtered. "Or rather, only on weekends do I wear them. Morning, afternoon, evening and night. I don't have any medical problems, I just like them. I like their drawings, I like peeing on them and feeling them all around me. And, most of all, the attention my parents give me in taking care of me." Theo remained silent, having no idea what to say. He wanted her to be happy, she wanted him to be happy too, so he hugged her tightly. "Your secret is safe with me, Riley," he told her in a low voice. Riley was speechless, the hug and his words warmed her heart. She was not dreaming, the warmth of her friend made her feel good, safe. She told him in a soft voice, "Yours is with me too, forever." 8 The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Riley and Theo managed to do all the homework they had and spent the last half hour up in his room talking about the thing that had led them to become best friends: diapers. They stretched out on the floor, wanting to play out a scene from a book they had read where two characters - a boy and a girl - were talking about their problems lying on the floor next to each other. To feel more comfortable, Theo slipped off his pants let the world admire his Pampers Baby-Dry for the night. There was no shortage of shenanigans from his friend where she urged him to wet himself to which he laughed while maintaining full control of his bladder. "Mom picked me up on her shoulder," Riley recounted gesturing toward the ceiling, "we moved to the hall and she laid me down there like I was a baby. Then she tried to take my diaper off, stopped when I told her I had more in my room." "What did she do then?" asked Theo, brushing his diaper. "She went to the garage to talk to my father. They came back together and changed it for me," she replied. "I couldn't believe it: mom and dad changing my diaper at age 11! The next day we discussed this, they set rules for me; I went to the supermarket with my mother and she bought me pull-ups for children who have to learn to use the toilet. They may be small, but boy are they very stretchy!" Theo listened fascinated, at one point asking, "How are the pull-ups?" Riley giggled happily. "Beautiful, it's like you're wearing underwear and a diaper at the same time!" Their conversation went on until six o'clock, the time when Greg, Riley's father, came to pick her up. She said goodbye to her friend and her father, then they walked to the car. When she returned, her mother Helen accompanied her to the bathroom to give her the pre-announced checkup. She pulled down her pants and looked down at her daughter's smelly and still wet panties. "What happened?" he questioned her. Riley explained everything to her, in full detail, the moment she discovered her friend's night diapers and also about the two drops of pee that fell into both her underwear. She blushed with shame. "Next time, sit and watch, don't stand and pee your pants," she admonished her, removing her soiled underwear, then helped her clean herself. At dinner, Riley monopolized the conversation. It was one of the few times the little girl talked so much she almost forgot about the plate of spaghetti on her plate. Her parents listened without ever interrupting her, surprised to find that her best friend - so their little daughter had twice declared - was peeing the bed. Having finished the meal and cleared the table, everyone went to their respective rooms, or almost since Helen forced Riley to follow her to the bathroom for the second time all day. The 11-year-old repeated the same instructions her mother had given her the day before with some uncertainty, did a fair amount of work that her mother completed. After that she gave her the report, "You need to pay more attention, Riley! You cleaned yourself up like you were late for something!" The little girl nodded and yawned; she couldn't take it anymore already. She brushed her teeth and went to her room, she definitely wanted to end this heavy day with a good night's sleep. She threw herself on her bed, at that moment someone knocked. "Come in!" It was her mother, she wanted to talk. He crossed the door and went to sit on one side of his bed. She admitted in a feeble voice, "I need to tell you something." "What is it, Mom?" asked the little girl as she sat down. "Your father and I have discussed it and decided on your punishment: for the rest of the week, you will not wear diapers. Starting next Monday, you can wear them, provided-" "As long as you or Dad are there to put them on me," Riley concluded in a saccharine voice, the tone her mother hated most of all. "I know Mom, I've learned my lesson." Helen did not get angry at her tone of voice; she preferred to let it go and go to bed. Like her daughter, she too wanted to sleep. She wished her a good night and headed to her room. * The diaper-free weekend arrived and passed in a second. Riley spent those forty-eight hours with her parents tidying up the house, that is, tidying up the attic. None of them would have expected that tidying it up would take two days, evenings included. It was Helen who had suggested this activity; staying still, lazing on the couch in the living room waiting to do something stimulating was bringing her a nervous breakdown. Greg, too, was trying not to sit idle; he took to reading a computer book in the kitchen, next to Riley who was studying the ticking of the clock in a bored manner. The third floor had been labeled "the oblivion," the place where everything that had ceased to have a definite use ends up. It was his parents who had given him that name, following an argument they had had that ended in a rather ambiguous way: suddenly, they forgot what they were arguing about. The entire room was chock-full of furniture and boxes with no writing to identify their contents. "Why did they have all that furniture?" wondered Riley, knowing that that question would not pull her away from that barbaric task. They set a goal for themselves: take everything downstairs. Helen and Greg would take care of the furniture, while Riley would take care of the boxes. All three lost track of time; they had started at 1 p.m. and stopped at 9 p.m. Her parents sprawled on the couch, surrounded by the twelve pieces of furniture they brought down several hours earlier. Riley took advantage of this and poked around the partially empty room, opened certain boxes and found old clothes and thirty-year-old china sets. What a bore! She passed between two tall pieces of furniture, perhaps two closets, and came across a long chest of drawers. Six rectangular-shaped drawers divided into two columns, it looked familiar. Then she realized what it was: it was the piece of furniture her parents used as a base for her changing table when she was an infant. I want this one in my room! I'm rehiring you indefinitely! The next morning, Riley proposed to her parents, who were zombies trying to return to the world of the living, but with little result. "Would you like to what?" her mother asked, yawning. "I found the old cabinet you used to use as a changing table," said the excited little girl. "It's big enough for me to lay on it, so changing me would no longer be an endless search." "Why ... are we taking so long to change you?" asked Greg, then took a sip of water. Riley gave him an obvious look. "Dad, do I need to remind you that for you lost my diapers by leaving me lying on the bed with everything in view?" She blushed on that last part. Greg yawned, but preferred not to answer. "Having a dedicated diaper corner would be nice," Helen intervened. "I already have the arrangement in mind for everything." Greg blinked three times. "So, should we move that to your room?" His tone was puzzled. "Yes," the little girl answered decisively, then put her hands together. "Please?" Greg sighed conflictedly, then smiled at his daughter. Through it all, Helen could not help but laugh. * In the early afternoon, a truck parked in front of their house. They were the workers from the secondhand furniture store to which Greg sold three cabinets and six drawers. Ten minutes of phone calls, emails with pictures of each piece of furniture attached, and a thousand dollars earned. He was the happiest person since his daughter. They loaded the furniture, nodded, to say goodbye and thank him for choosing their store, to Greg and left without giving a glance to either Helen or Riley who had been present every moment of their brief stay. "Rude," Riley said promptly, until she was sure they had left their field of vision. And Helen agreed with her with a complicit smile. Then she added, "You'll meet some rude ones too, always behave yourself and you won't end up like them." "Become rough, fat men?" the 11-year-old asked incredulously. "But I'm a girl!" Greg burst out laughing. "There are rough women, too, honey," Helen told her with amusement. They spent the better part of Sunday afternoon moving furniture and organizing Riley's room. The little girl had the opportunity to place the furniture as she wanted. Her parents enjoyed following the directions. The cabinet - changing table - they placed behind the door. The closet next door, the bed and the desk remained in place. With this thinking work completed, Greg went out to run an errand. Riley was happy; her room had become even more beautiful. The latest arrival (or return?) was looking good, two of the six drawers had already been filled. The first with diapers and pull-ups, the second with underwear, lotion and wipes. It was not yet complete, missing the mat that made it a proper changing table. At six o'clock in the afternoon, Greg returned with something that made Riley happy beyond measure: the mat! All three of them went to put it in its place, on which occasion Riley asked her parents to try it out. Her father took her on his shoulder and laid her down as if he was, for real, about to put a diaper on her. It fit perfectly, was comfortable, and she could almost take a nap in it. "It's perfect!" exclaimed Riley. Her father put her down and hugged him along with her mother. "Thanks, guys!"

Chapter 10 “Oh she is a good girl.” Paul was smiling at Simon and talking about me as though I really was an uncomprehending baby. “Yes, she’s been everything we were looking for. She’s beautiful, slim and seems to be enjoying herself. She’s been a proper submissive.” “Well, she’s certainly got the look of a helpless baby right now. This nappy is drooping between her legs, the dummy is in her mouth - this is a good look.” As she talked to Simon she took my hand and pulled me across to her and then placed her hand on the seat of my nappy. And pushed! Poop mushed against my backside. “Let’s get her into a more appropriate outfit.” With that Paula went over to the wardrobe and picked out an outfit. I have to admit it was cute - a bodysuit with under crotch poppers “for an easy nappy change” with a skirt that was clearly too short to cover the nappy. And a matching bonnet. She stripped me of my adult clothes and I was soon dressed as a ‘proper’ baby. Both of them complimented me on my cuteness, saying that I looked like a pretty baby girl. They also teased me that I stink like a little baby girl too! This was all, even with a heaving, smelly nappy, fun. Things were about to get a bit tricky though. “Go and get the pushchair, Simon”. I’d not seen a pushchair, but Simon returned with what appeared to be a slightly larger than normal pushchair and opened it up. I was sat in the stroller by Paula, the poop in my nappy spreading into every conceivable part of my nether regions. I was wide eyed by this point. My suckling on my dummy stopped briefly as I cried “Mama” I stuck to the rules - this gig was too well paid to screw up - and, even though any public viewing of me in this state would be mortifying, there was a big part of me that was sexually excited. The anxiety had another effect. My bowels released more poop into my nappy. I wasn’t expecting it and I couldn’t control it either. I hadn’t asked permission. I looked at Paula pleadingly. She smiled at me as she strapped me in. “That’s okay sweetheart, you’re a proper baby now. Are you ready to go for a walk, little Louise? Shake your head for no, nod for yes” The test of a true submissive is trust. I decided that I was safe in their hands - if they were going to take me out like this it would be them that would have to take the flak. I nodded. Simon grabbed the handles and started to wheel me to the door. As he opened the door and started to push me into the corridor Paula placed her hand upon his shoulder and said softly “Stop Simon. Bring her back into the room and close the door.” Simon pushed me back into the room. Paula bent down and released my straps and took my hands in hers. “Come on baby, on the bed.” I went with her to the bed. She lay me down over her lap and undid the buttons on her blouse. “I’m sure my little girl’s hungry after all that excitement” She pulled open her blouse and revealed, to my surprise, a nursing bra. I couldn’t believe what was happening, She pulled out her boob and placed the teat between my lips. I suckled straight away, tasting her milk. Her right hand was supporting my head onto her boob, her left reached down to my nappy and slowly rubbed, the crinkling noise of the nappy combining with the soft squelching of the mess within. This was relaxing, comforting. Feeling a familiar pressure in my bladder I pulled away briefly from her milky tit and said, in my best baby voice, “Wee-wee Mama”. Pulling me back onto her boob, she gave the command and my nappy absorbed the flood of warm pee. “You’re such a good girl, Louise. You’ll be perfect.”

Thank you! What an honor it would be to contribute something to either of these two great stories.

I received my semi-annual shipment from Northshore and included were a few "free" samples. Among these samples were two cloth-covered Megamaxes. I decided to wear one to bed last night after I had purposely hydrated myself. Now, I'm not nearly the expert that some of you are and I rarely post here, but I have been a DL for at least the past 58 years and this for me was unusual: With respect and apologies to Sonny Curtis and the Bobby Fuller Four, I fought the Megamax (and the Megamax won.) Goodness, that Megamax took two mighty wettings, and then some, and swelled to such an extent that could no longer sleep in it. I actually got up and took it off in the wee (did you see what i did there?) hours of the morning so I could sleep better. Kudos to its construction and aborbancy. No leaks and no wicking and never got to the point where it felt very wet. Maybe just a little too much for me, however!

Lara sat at her desk staring blankly at her laptop, not reading a word. Her attempts to study were clouded by thoughts of the well spanked boy sleeping downstairs. Every time she tried to refocus, it was no use. She just continued picturing Ted. Bent over across Stacey’s knee. Begging not to be paddled. His pink bottom in the air over the arm of the couch. Standing in the corner with his pants around his ankles. His buised butt getting strapped across his bed. Climbing into bed wearing nothing but a pull-up diaper. Lara’s hand slid between her legs. Working their way upward, her fingers found a growing warmth spreading as she considered how infantile Ted had been treated. The thought of him in pull-ups made her remember… “He needs thicker diapers!” Quickly opening a new tab on her browser, Lara searched “thick adult diapers.” As she perused the results, she muttered aloud to herself. “Hmm… no, too thin… and boring… “Here, these are thicker! But man, still boring… “Ha! Pink ones!” Lara perused a site with various options of plain colored diapers. She giggled a little as she read the descriptions like “overnight protection” and “heavy wetting.” She hit the back button and again clicked into the search bar. Hesitating momentarily, she amended her search. “cute adult diapers” Lara’s eyes spread wide open as the results poured in. Her jaw dropped. There were pages and pages of adult sized diapers fashioned with bright colors and babyish prints. Dozens of styles with varying thickness, though most of them boasted serious absorbency. Her hand dropped quickly between her legs. The warmth intensified and her fingers felt a dampness spread as she pressed them against the crotch of her leggings. She began rubbing herself, while her other hand scrolled the diaper selections. Lara was astounded as she saw the pictures of grown girls and boys modeling the colorful infantile diapers. She never would have considered something like this sexy, but in that moment, she was intensely turned on. After about ten minutes down the rabbit hole of adult baby accessories like pacifiers, onesies, and changing mats, Lara added a pack of baby blue printed diapers to her online cart and quickly checked out. Her purchase would arrive in just a few days. She was so titillated. Saving a few bookmarks for sites to check back on another time, Lara closed her laptop and opened her legs. She had more pressing matters to attend to than shopping for pacifiers. She slid a hand down the waistband of her pants as she pushed back from the desk. She closed her eyes. Imagining Ted, standing in the corner, red splotches at the tops of his thighs, just below a poofy baby blue diaper, Lara’s fingers worked the lips of her pussy. Finding the target, Lara gasped and bit her lip. She rubbed furiously as she pictured Ted’s muscular body, sprawled out on his bed, naked but for a cute Pamper, bulging at the crotch. Stifling her moans so as to not wake up her roommate down the hall, Lara pushed harder into her clit and massaged it deeply. The image in her mind flashed to Ted willingly bending himself over her knee. She pull down his diaper and began reddening his bare bottom. She imagined what she might say to him. “Naughty, naughty little boy. You just can’t act like a big boy can you? You need a good spanking and a fresh diaper, mister!” Lara’s entire body flexed. Her mind went completely blank as she reached a massive climax. She bit down hard on her lip, drawing a little blood, trying not to yell out in ecstasy. As she recovered her composure, Lara smiled to herself. It was weird for sure, the idea of spanking and babying her friend. But there was no denying, it was also very sexy. Lara regarded the state of her panties. They were very wet and had soaked all the way through to her leggings. “Sheesh, maybe I need a diaper too…” she muttered to herself with a snicker. Suddenly, she remembered the second bag of Goodnites stashed under her bed. She bolted over and retrieved the pack. Then she stopped. Standing like a statue, examining the package, Lara hesitated and debated inside her head. She squeezed the bag and turned it over. The dampness in her crotch began to cool, and a shiver ran up her spine. As if this were a sign, she tore open the bag and pulled out a pink and purple pull-up. She peeled off her pants and underwear, moving quickly so that she wouldn’t back out. Goosebumps rose on her bare, slender legs. She stretched out the diaper, and pulled it on. Turning so she could see her bum in the full length mirror behind her, Lara blushed and smiled. The print on her pull-ups was far less infantile than what she had just ordered for Ted, but there was no certainly mistaking them for big girl panties. Lara ran her fingers over her butt and pulled at the edges of her diaper. It was soft, and was rubbing her in the all right places. She liked how it accentuated her curves and cushioned her crotch. She felt like she had to share this with someone. Stacey surely wouldn’t want to be woken up. But Lara thought maybe Teddy would be interested to see what she had on. Slipping out of her room, she tiptoed downstairs, trying to be quiet but acutely aware of the soft rustling from her Goodnites.

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/

If you desire incontinence, just start living it. What most are looking for when they say they want to be incontinent is an "excuse" to wear diapers. Screw excuses. Nobody's going to ask you for proof. If you want to wear diapers all the time, then wear diapers all the time.

I’ve succeeded making myself completely urinary incontinent it about a year just by living that way. It has been well over 2.5 years since I’ve started and it just takes a real commitment. Those who think they need to cath or use hypno are not really into being incontinent. They are just playing around. Let’s look at it. If you want to be urinary incontinent, then you would have to wear diapers all the time. So why not just start doing it? If you want to be incontinent, then do it. All you have to do it pee. You don’t need an excuse or some fake reason where it “isn’t your fault.” Just pee. If you are reading this. Just pee right now. Don’t wait for the “right time” or when you are alone or not out. Just pee. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you are wearing or sitting on. Just pee. Sounds extreme? No, because that is what it is like to be incontinent. Being incontinent means you are not in control. You don’t have any say as to where or when. You just pee. This IS the way I did it. I am now completely urinary incontinent. All the time. No drugs, no caths, no hypnosis. Just peeing the moment I felt like it and by NOT putting any special attention on it. Not making my self go. Nor holding back for any reason. It took just a few months before I would immediately wet without conscious though when awake. It took nearly a year before I would wet asleep. But it did finally happen. I leak and pee every 10-20 minutes now. Every morning I’m completely soaked. Many of the people who need a “plan” are also looking for an excuse about NOT being incontinent. They can and do blame the plan. Some people may take longer than others. Some won’t be honest about it and will not just relax and allow their bodies to unlearn their potty training. But it is very, very possible and VERY EASY! The key is to be honest about your desire. You absolutely must put your desire to be incontinent above all others. You MUST just LET GO the instant you feel like you have to pee. You absolutely can’t hold it and you must immediately let yourself RELAX. Don’t force it, just RELAX. You may not pee right away but you need to let the body know that the I-NEED-TO-PEE feeling means I-NEED-TO-RELAX-AND-LET-GO. Seriously, you have to just let go.

Now, I'm finally getting to reposting this story after it was near-totally erased in the Great Crash. A note: This story was written before I learned that the Little/In-Betweener cutoff point was six feet, not ~five, back when I thought we counted as In-Betweeners. Thus, any references to In-Betweeners in this story mean people our size, because I didn't know that by the DD Universe's standards, we are Littles. Also, minor tidbit on how I came up with the main character's name. At the time I had been thinking about the horror-survival series Dead Space, and when I was coming up with a name for this character and going through my head for names, naturally Ellie Langford and Nolan Stross (which my mind twisted into 'Strauss' for this story). Especially since Ellie Langford loses an eye during DS2's story. -------------------------------------- Ellie Strauss let out a soft sigh as she just about finished getting ready for the day. Sitting on her bed, she looked around at the bedroom of her rather small, rather empty apartment, its gray walls adding to a sense of dreary emptiness. She didn’t own much in the way of material possessions, but she didn’t particularly mind. It’s not like she really had anyone to impress; she was an only child, and her parents had both been killed in an earthquake when she was twelve, with no other living relatives. Now 22 years of age, Ellie had accomplished something that not many Littles like her could: she’d avoided being ‘taken’ by an Amazon all this time. She hadn’t been in diapers since she was three years old. And she intended to keep it that way. It wasn’t particularly easy, either, since she had numerous qualities that made her seem a perfect target: even for an adult female Little, she was a little small, with a petite build; she had long golden-blonde hair, the kind that most Amazons would want to put into cute styles; and her voice’s natural tone was high and ‘sweet’. All this despite the fact that Ellie was rather ‘tomboyish’; she really didn’t like cutesy girly things that much. But a Little didn’t make it this far without being smart, and Ellie had a few ways to try and reduce her appeal as a target. Part of it was body language; depending on the situation, she could carry herself with confidence that made her seem bigger, or stay quiet and unobtrusive, slipping beneath notice. She dressed maturely but conservatively, and her usual hairstyle was to tie it back in a low, tight ponytail starting by where her skull met her neck and reaching down to her mid-back. She could produce a glare that could make more than a few Amazons think twice about bothering her. And, though her voice’s natural tone was high and sweet, she had learned to deepen and make it rougher/harsher as needed, able to pull off a fairly convincing contralto that didn’t sound forced (most of the time). All in all, it had worked so far. Today, though, she would be heading out into the big, wide world of the large town (small city?) she lived in, with a purpose in mind: hunting for a new job. It would probably help that she wasn’t fired from her last job, but instead had ‘retired’ with honors and respect from her peers. She’d been pretty good at her last occupation, even though she’d only had it for about seven months. Not many Littles worked as security officers, but she’d found her place with one of the smaller banks of this town, one run mostly by In-Betweeners with a few Littles. Because of her newness and her unimposing appearance, some of the more experienced personnel at first didn’t expect much of her. But her force of personality and diligent nature had shone through, and she’d done well, taking to the job like a duck to water. Then some vengeful In-Betweener punk had ruined it all. There was a gang in town, composed of In-Betweeners, who called themselves ‘the Talons’. While usually sticking to small-time stuff (with the rare bigger thing like assault or even a few murders), they’d gotten it into their heads to try a heist at the bank. They’d tried to be stealthy, but Ellie had them pegged the second their four people walked in the front door. She had discreetly signaled her coworkers to get ready for trouble, and when the Talons’ members had pulled on their masks, pulled out their pistols and knives (the gang’s love of using knives was a big reason they were called the Talons), and initiated the holdup, Ellie already had her finger on the silent-alarm button. When the sirens had become audible approaching, Ellie had struck, using her own Little-scaled service pistol to down three of them; furthermore, she’d used rubber bullets to leave them down but not out, since she knew the town’s police had been dying to get their hands on live Talons members to see what they could extract from them. It had worked like a charm, though one of the Talons had managed to get away, leaving her stolen money behind, as the police came to take custody of the three remaining. The Talons were brave and vicious, but they didn’t have the resources or manpower to pull off a stunt like this again. Between stopping the heist and leading to three arrests, Ellie had foiled their lone attempt to ‘make it big’. But Ellie hadn’t expected what came after, that night when the stars and Moon were out. She hadn’t expected, on her short 10-minute walk toward her nearby home, to be ambushed by the lone Talon who’d escaped – a small-built, 5’3” In-Betweener girl with a grudge and dual-wielding knives. Caught off-guard, Ellie had been quickly disarmed, and only her training had enabled her to not be instantly overpowered by the larger person. They’d struggled, but then the Talon had gotten lucky. Ellie remembered a horrible, burning pain, and half of her world going black. All the same, even after that, she’d managed to fake being more incapacitated than she was, and was able to wrench one of the assailant’s knives free for herself and sink it into the gang-member’s thigh. The gangster girl had hobbled off, cursing and bleeding, leaving Ellie to die. Fortunately, in addition to the bank, Ellie also lived within walking distance of a hospital, albeit one that mostly catered to In-Betweeners and Amazons. She staggered her way there, and oh how the doctors & nurses had been surprised – and horrified – to see a “cute” Little show up, holding a hand to the right side of her face with blood streaming down it. They’d rushed her into the ER, and managed to keep her from being killed by shock or blood loss. But they hadn’t been able to save her right eye. While she’d been recovering (miraculously she’d been able to avoid being diapered for that, too), she’d told the police officer who came to interview her everything she knew, with a detailed description of her assailant, as well as the knife with the gang-member’s blood still on it. The police had quickly launched a search. They hadn’t had to look long. Ellie’s retaliating stab had hit the Talon girl’s femoral artery. She’d bled out before she could reach her gang, her body being found and reported by a homeless man. And unfortunately, the remaining Talon members had been able to put two & two together when they heard. Ellie knew from TV that some gangs could get really vicious and determined when seeking to avenge a member’s death. She would have to be very careful whenever she went out & about from now on. Unfortunately, her new impairment meant she could no longer effectively carry out her security job. She’d been forced to retire, with a farewell party and promise of support from coworkers and a severance package and anything. If need be, she could live off the money she received for a while, but she wanted to assure her own long-term financial security. Right now, Ellie was wearing a dark-red shirt and black jeans, together with dark-brown boots and a simple black hair-tie holding her low ponytail, preparing to head out (as far as she felt, she’d never be caught dead in a dress). As she headed for the door, she took a look in the hallway’s mirror. Her left eye, a pretty hazel color, looked back at her, while her now-missing right eye’s lids were sutured shut, with a big, easily visible, slightly jagged-looking vertical scar over it. Ellie had refused an eyepatch or a prosthetic, citing personal reasons, but she didn’t tell the doctors the real reason: additional ‘help’ in making herself less appealing to would-be ‘mommies’ and ‘daddies’ amongst the Amazons. She figured they’d be less likely to fall into cuteness-struck babying mode when confronted by a Little with a harsh glare in one eye and a big ugly scar over the other. So far, it seemed to be working. Ellie sighed. “Except now I’ve gotta find someone who’ll hire not just a Little, but a Little with only one eye… and hope the impaired depth perception doesn’t lead me to walk into something and make a fool of myself…” She still remembered yesterday, when she’d walked into a pole. Thank God nobody had been around to see it. Taking a deep breath, Ellie Strauss stepped out into the world outside her dreary little apartment. ------------------------------------------------------ Ellie walked down the sidewalk in the uptown area, weaving between the other people in this moderately busy area, passing by the countless little shops and looking to see if anyone was hiring (and if so, if they were hiring Littles). She shivered a little as a gust of wind came by; here, in this town she called home, the temperature was rather cool; even in the peak of Summer, temperatures rarely broke above 80. Right now, it was early November, so the weather was well on its way toward the chill of Winter. So far, she hadn’t gotten much attention; the Amazons barely even noticed her, while In-Betweeners and other Littles were low enough to notice her eye, but were too polite to stare for more than a couple seconds before moving on. Although, she had to pay more attention as she walked, moving her head more than she was used to, to compensate for the decrease in field of vision and depth perception. Unfortunately, so far she hadn’t found any shops that were hiring. She was beginning to get frustrated, but calmed herself; it was still early, only around 9:00 in the morning, and she hadn’t even covered a full quarter of all the numerous shops in uptown. Sighing, she came up to a little restaurant with some tables & chairs out front, deciding to sit down and rest for 15 minutes, having a seat at an unoccupied table and pulling a book out of her bag, paying no mind to the other people – a pair of In-Betweener businessmen, a male Little about a head taller than Ellie herself, and a pair of Amazon women and the young daughter of one of them – having breakfast at the other tables. She sighed as she tried to figure out where to look next. Maybe she could get a job that would take advantage of her youthful appearance, a part of her wondered. Amazons, on average, lived about 15% longer than In-Betweeners, but Littles lived nearly 25% longer, and what’s more they retained a young, youthful appearance for markedly longer, proportionately, than the other two races did, still looking young and ‘cute’ when the other two were already starting to show signs of aging. “Mommy, that Little looks kinda scary…” Ellie looked up a bit, spotting the Amazon girl – about 6 or 7 by the looks of her – looking at her with curiosity and wariness. The girl’s mother and her friend weren’t looking at her yet. “Why would you say that, sweetie?” the mother said. “How could a Little be scary?” “Well, she’s got a big scar over her eye…” At that, the two adult Amazons turned to look, and their eyes visibly widened as they caught sight of the scar over Ellie’s right eye. For several seconds, nobody said anything. “…Mommy tells me not to run with scissors ‘cause I could trip and poke my eye out” the ‘little’ Amazon girl said. “Is that what you did?” “Actually,” Ellie replied, using her practiced ‘fake’ contralto voice, “I was walking home from work after dark, and I was jumped by some psycho In-Betweener gangbanger thug with a knife.” The two women gasped. “Take my advice, kid” Ellie continued. “When you’re all grown up, if you end up getting a job that ends after the Sun goes down, don’t walk home on your own, even if you only live a little ways away. Either drive, or bum a ride off a friend. You never know what kind of people might be lurking in the shadows…” The Amazon mother’s friend sighed. “Those gangs really are starting to get out of control” she said. “We’re not even a major city, but we’ve got two or three different bands of hooligans out prowling the night, defacing property, threatening people… and now attacking a poor, cute little thing like you and disfiguring you like that? Are you police around here really so overwhelmed that they can’t keep up?” “Maybe they can call Batman in to fix things” the little girl suggested, earning a soft chuckle from her mother; even Ellie allowed herself a tiny hint of a smile at the young child’s innocent naiveté. “If you can make him magically appear from within the world of comic books, then sure” the scarred Little replied. “That’d be real nice.” “So lady,” one of the In-Betweener businessmen spoke up, “was it the Talons or the Alligators who got your eye?” Ellie sighed. “Talons…” “Pft. Figures. I heard those guys have been getting more aggressive lately.” As the businessmen and the Amazon women got into shared small talk, Ellie used the chance to slip away before one of the two women got any ideas about her. -Break- Ellie let out a weary sigh. She mused to herself that she’d been doing that a lot this morning. An hour & a half of searching, but still no luck; every store she’d looked at either wasn’t hiring anyone, or their “Now Hiring” signs had “No Littles” at the bottom. The few who were hiring and weren’t turning Littles away were also no-gos; they involved tasks that required better visual acuity than she now had, thanks to her injury. As she strolled through one of the areas made up of ‘pricier’ stores, she kept her eye open just in case. She passed by an Amazon woman a bit over nine feet tall, pushing an occupied stroller; Ellie noticed that the figure in the stroller – long red hair in pigtails, a pink pacifier in her mouth, red-lined pink mittens and booties on her hands & feet, and a thick puffy diaper sticking out from under her short red dress – was not a Little, but an In-Betweener girl around 9 or 10 years old, trying in vain to hide her beet-red face as her Amazon caretaker cheerfully wheeled her into a furniture store. Ellie shook her head; probably, the Amazon was the girl’s babysitter or nanny, and was punishing her for some misbehavior (or maybe just indulging in the desire to mother and baby a person so much smaller than her, like most Amazons seemed to be driven to do to Littles; she’d once seen a mortified blonde 8-year-old In-Betweener boy diapered and dolled up, tended to by a trio of Amazon ‘caretakers’). As she cut through a small parking lot outside the furniture store, she allowed herself to drift off into her thoughts without stopping walking. With that combined with her decreased vision, what happened next was all but inevitable. She let out a cry of startled pain as she walked right into something big and sturdy at a brisk walking speed, rebounding from the impact. She winced as she hit the ground, landing hard on her right side; right away she knew her arm would be bruised a little. “Ow” she said in a flat, deadpan tone. “Oh, dear” At the new voice, she startled a little. The right side of her face was turned away, but that left her left eye able to see that she had not walked into a pole, or a car. She’d walked into a leg. The leg belonged to an Amazon woman, around 9’4”, with upper-back-length auburn hair and deep blue eyes, wearing a beige blouse and knee-length floral-pattern white skirt. “Are you okay, little dear?” The Amazon woman knelt down, looking Ellie over despite the Little’s murmured protests that she was fine. Then, as she was checking Ellie’s face, the Amazon woman gasped as she saw the scar over Ellie’s obviously-missing right eye, and her face filled with concern. “Oh, sweetie, what happened to you?” She knelt down and helped Ellie to her feet, brushing the Little off and straightening her clothes. “How did this happen to you, honey?” she asked, her left hand cupping Ellie’s right cheek, thumb very softly stroking the lower edge of the scar where it lined up with the bridge of her nose. “I… I was walking home from work one night about a week or so ago, and…” The Amazon smiled a little. “Sweetie, you don’t need to make your voice sound deeper for me.” Ellie looked surprised. “H-How did you…?” “I’ve known a few Littles and In-Betweeners who use that trick. Could you please talk to me with your normal voice?” Ellie gulped nervously, releasing her false contralto. “O… Okay…” The Amazon’s smile grew. “Your real voice is so sweet and cute… Anyway, dear, go on.” “R-Right. I was walking home from work at night, and… I got jumped by some psycho In-Betweener gangbanger chick with a couple of knives. In the struggle, she… she managed to use one of her knives to slash my eye out.” The Amazon woman gasped. “Oh, honey…” “I’m out here in uptown because I couldn’t keep my old job with only one eye. I’m trying to find a new one; it’s… slow going. And… I gotta be real careful when I’m out and about. With only one eye, my field of vision isn’t as wide as it used to be, and my depth perception’s screwed up. And also…” Ellie looked around nervously, and leaned in to whisper. “Also, after that thug girl took my eye out, in the struggle I managed to get hold of one of her knives and… stabbed her in the leg with it. …I didn’t know it until later, but it turns out I hit her femoral artery. She bled to death in less than 15 minutes. Now, I’m not in any trouble; the police and the courts ruled it as justifiable self-defense on my part. But…” “…But the members of a gang won’t care about whether it was an accident,” the Amazon woman finished for Ellie, “or that it was a Little who did it. …They’ll be out for revenge.” Ellie let out a long sigh. “Yeah… It’s kinda hard to watch where I’m going while walking and keep an eye on my surroundings, in corners and alleys and stuff, at the same time.” The Amazon woman nodded, looking Ellie over – her petite little body, the brand-new little bruise forming on her arm, her pretty hazel eye and the knife scar over her missing other eye, her soft, youthful features – while also considering the girl’s current status in life. “…What’s your name, dear?” “…Ellie. Ellie Strauss.” The Amazon smiled warmly. “I’m Katie Emery. …Ellie, would you like to come with me?” “…Huh?” “I’d like to have a better look at that arm of yours, and maybe see if I can help you with anything else.” “U-Uh…” Ellie began to feel nervous, as Katie’s eyes and smile seemed to be starting to draw her in, just a little. “I have a nice, big house in the hills, kinda fancy with two floors and lots of rooms; I’m… fairly well-off. After hearing your story, I’d like to… maybe have you over for lunch, maybe help you figure out where to go from here?” A part of Ellie’s sharp mind was shouting warnings at her, telling her this was how it often started. But somehow, Katie’s gentleness, her expression, the genuine concern she was showing, were having an effect, leaving Ellie struggling to come up with a point-blank refusal. Taking Ellie’s lack of refusal as an acceptance, Katie stood back up, and took Ellie’s little hand in hers, gently yet firmly leading her along towards a fancy-looking forest-green car. Before Ellie knew it, she was buckled up in the backseat, and Katie was turning the engine over and starting out of the parking lot. Before pulling out and into the street, Katie looked back at Ellie with a warm smile and a soft giggle, and Ellie gulped with nervousness and did her best to lean back against the surprisingly soft & comfy seat, wondering just where things were going from here.

My wife puts up with me wearing diapers - I've been 24/7 for 5 years - but that's about the extent of it. She has never offered to change them, and even if she were up for it, I think it would only be an occasional indulgence - it's not something I'd want to make into a "requirement" of the relationship, because I think it would be a lot to ask, and also might damage the dynamics. She can be a pretty "take charge" individual, and while I dress like a toddler under my clothing, I'm also pretty independently-minded - giving over that much control would come at a cost, is what I'm saying. She has packed diapers for me for trips and she buys me diaper cream and things like that, so I'm not complaining. I have a diaper drawer in our bedroom, and corner in our basement is stacked with them, and I haven't owned underwear that doesn't tape or pin on in nearly half a decade, so I feel like I'm getting space in the relationship to be who I want to be. I have to understand and meet her somewhere in the middle. It was not her dream to have someone in the house still in diapers, after our kids outgrew them! But on the other hand, were I to be beset by a stroke or something, I'm sure she'd change them, just as I would do it for her. But it's not on her wish list for activities we can do together, at least not now.

https://blendlyu.com/?reel-id=37120 Well sort of.

Very interesting story, I love how you have made Riley's emotions and characteristics as real as possible. I'm interested in seeing what happens next, especially with the art assignment. 5hank you for sharing this with us here.

I gave up fighting my steadily worsening incontinence just that way and like you wake up soaking wet every morning and just pee steadily in my nappy all day. I have no regrets. I didn't originally desire incontinence but as it steadily worsened I just gave up the fight and just relied on my nappies. Now I have hardly any bladder control. I learned to embrace and thoroughly enjoy my incontinence and dependence on nappies and couldn't be happier.

See, I'm the angel! 😇 Sorry, definitely going to be a while before I get back to multiple chapters a week at this rate. Having serious problems getting into writer mode. (Just paid taxes, maybe once my feeling of dread from that goes away I'll feel better... Uncle Sam was greedy this year...)

Go find me on WattPad, follow the link in my signature below. It'll be easier.

Yeah its been hell on my mental health recently when i wake up dry its so disspointing and puts me in a bad mood but when i wake up wet its such a joy.

Brilliant ❤️. I hope Gabby and Mom keep in touch and, well, who knows. And I loved this: “I bet there’s an audience for that somewhere.” Thank you so much QH, there's definitely an audience for Clarky's memoirs!

Part 38 “I’m sorry for having multiple accidents in my diapers, and for acting, umm, like an immature little girl all day long.” Cassidy didn’t quite make it through the embarrassing apology without faltering a little bit. Mostly because it was quite the mouthful, and it took her a moment to think of the second half after getting past the first. Of course, Audrey had a way to make things worse. She pulled out her phone and trained it on the diapered girl buckled into the back seat. “Good. Now say it for the camera, and we’ll be done.” “But-” “Cassie. Do you want to leave, or do you want to sit in the hot car for another hour?” The car was pretty warm after sitting in the sun all day. Cassidy had been thoroughly distracted by the dirty diapers followed by Audrey’s cleavage and subsequent demand for an apology. Now that her sister pointed out the heat, however, Cassidy felt it more than before. The open door provided some ventilation, but the AC would be much better. Still, she had to try one more time. As close as they were to getting on the road, a video like that would be so incriminating than the picture Audrey had just taken. “Audrey, can’t we just go? I don’t want-” “Cassidy.” It was the first time Audrey had used her full name in hours, and it was surprisingly effective at getting her attention. “Be a big girl for once, okay? Just say it. Now, please.” Audrey was her younger sister. Although clearly age wasn’t the only factor, considering who else had bossed Cassidy around today. This situation was very much the same, where getting talked down to made her feel pressured to do as she was told in order to avoid looking worse. Even if she had just been thinking about how it was a terrible idea to offer up this kind of ammo to her sister. Blushing darker than before, Cassidy muttered the full apology. That wasn’t good enough for Audrey. “Speak clearly, Cassie,” she said, “Now, did you have something to say?” Clutching her chest more tightly than before, both because she was feeling particularly exposed and vulnerable when on camera, as well as to make sure that her boobs were completely concealed, Cassidy said more audibly, ““I’m sorry for having multiple accidents in my diapers, and for acting like an immature little girl all day long.” Audrey let the silence linger for a few seconds, to be sure that she caught the end of the apology on video. The added bonus was the way Cassidy averted her gaze afterwards, making her look a lot more shy and awkward than she normally was. With another little smirk, Audrey stopped the recording. “Good job, Cassie. Now, sit back there and think about what you could have done differently today.” With that, she gently closed the back door and got into the driver’s seat. The drive back felt a lot longer than the initial trip to the faire. It was just under thirty minutes, but each of those minutes felt like an eternity when naked save for dirty diapers. The mess itself was bad enough, and that was before dealing with the fact that Audrey’s little sedan was shorter than a lot of other vehicles. While most of those drivers and passengers would be focused on the road, that didn’t stop Cassidy from constantly worrying about her exposure. Her arms never left her breasts, and she just had to accept that anyone might see her underwear situation due to how she couldn’t cover everything. Better to aim for modesty, even if diapers were mortifying in their own way. She was briefly tempted to ask Audrey to stop somewhere. While their parents wouldn’t be home yet, that didn’t protect Cassidy from people she and her family knew from potentially seeing her as they got closer to the house. Every stop sign and red light would be a risk. The problem was, Cassidy was nearly naked. That meant Audrey would be going in alone, and she still had Cassidy’s wallet. Getting her sister to pay her back for all the renaissance faire purchases was already going to be like pulling teeth, and another shopping spree would just compile to that task on the horizon. Plus Cassidy was still quite motivated to simply get home and shower. That was the quickest way to get things back to normal; she’d have to deal with the potential blackmail and minor financial crisis later. Cassidy was so caught up in her own thoughts and overall discomfort that she wasn’t paying much attention to the drive. It wasn’t until they were getting off the highway at a less familiar exit that she glanced around in curiosity. She didn’t say anything for another few minutes, as it easily could have been a detour that Audrey was taking to avoid traffic that Cassidy hadn’t seen. They also hadn’t said a word to each other all drive, as Audrey had been content listening to her music as she chauffeused Cassidy home. When they turned into a neighborhood that definitely wasn’t a shortcut back to theirs, however, Cassidy finally piped up. “Umm, Audrey? Where are you going?” “We just have a quick stop to make,” Audrey said, “Relax, sis.” “Yeah, but-” “We’ve talked about this. You need to stop freaking out over nothing, remember? It’s not an attractive trait to have!” Cassidy fell quiet again. It’s not like she could do anything to prevent Audrey from taking the unexpected detour. Her sister was the one driving, and Cassidy was the one in the back seat and merely along for the ride. A couple minutes later, they were pulling into the driveway of someone else’s house. That was enough to make Cassidy pipe up for a second time. “Audrey!” “Cassie!” Audrey replied, in a mockingly shrill tone. She turned off the ignition and got out of the car without any hesitation. Then, to Cassidy’s surprise, Audrey came over and opened the back door. “You’re coming, too. Let’s go.” Cassidy’s eyes were already a little wide from how the car door was no longer hiding her from a portion of the neighborhood they were in. But actually getting out as she was? Absolutely not. Immediately shaking her head, Cassidy said, “No. I’m not wearing anything!” “And you don’t have anything to hide,” Audrey rolled her eyes, “Believe it or not, sis, I’m trying to help you. Our dad came home early for something. So do you still want to go there, or would you rather stop by my friend’s place first?” Was ‘neither’ an option? As helpful as Audrey was claiming that she was trying to be, Cassidy couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t mentioned the latest complication until she absolutely had to. If Cassidy had known earlier, maybe she would have actually pushed for a stop along the way. Ignoring the jab about her smaller chest, Cassidy asked, “What friend?” “Elena,” Audrey said, without missing a beat, “And she used to babysit, by the way. Your diapers won’t be a big deal.” Cassidy somewhat recognized the name, but she hadn’t spent much time with Audrey’s friends when they had both been in high school. Also, changing diapers as a babysitter wasn’t quite the same as seeing a girl Cassidy’s age in them. As badly as she wanted to change, the thought of getting out of the car and letting someone else see her like this was paralyzing. Wasn’t there another option? ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Really intense chapter, excellent writing.

I change between Megan's view point when we are in the present in the car, but to October's view point when she is telling the story of how she got stuck with the Gavins. This is just the first part of her story. So, to help you guess when we are shifting view points, I tried to double space so the spaces should be bigger when shifting scenes, and also, I usually had Megan interrupting October's story with her curious moments, comments, and questions, she normally starts out speaking after a longer spacing. I think it's easier to see it going back to October telling the story because the little interruption comes to a close, I think, and then October starts telling her story again. Chapter Three October’s Story Part I “So, I guess you didn’t really like where you were placed at,” I looked over at Octy after a little while in the car with her. Every time the conversation turned towards her place before Vanessa got her, during the last hour or so, she kept looking away and got a little quiet. “No,” she sighed and looked at me with those cute little blue-green eyes of hers. “It was not a fun place to be at all, but then, when you are bad like me, I guess I deser…,” she paused mid-word because I frowned at her narrowing my eyes at her. “Stop that,” I nearly threw a fit. “You’re not bad, and anyone that made you think like that, are bad. You know if you do something bad or not, and it doesn’t sound like you did anything on purpose, that you knew would cause trouble.” Daddy heard me yell at Octy, whom now was looking down. “Megan, sweetheart, yelling at her to stop it will only make her shut you out. It takes more than just words to get through someone that’s been abused.” “Abuse?” I asked. “You know… hit all the time and told things to make you feel like you can’t do anything right. Vanessa has been telling me a little bit about what the little one has gone through, and she’s not just trying to irritate you, okay?” I frowned. I turned back to Octy and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Octy. I should have known better, but it’s just… how…? How can you think you are bad?” October gulped. Her blue-green eyes shined at me. I knew she was thinking and she started to wiggle her legs. I grabbed her hand. “Octy. I’m really sorry. You don’t have to tell me,” I whispered. She nodded, but after a minute or two, a soft whispery kind of air came from her throat. “It was at night, when the police came along with some people that I knew hated uncle,” she had started. Tears leaked from her eyes. Her mouth twitched a moment, and then she continued. “I woke up to people breaking into the front and back door. I was in the bedroom, and when I woke up with a start, I did my first bad thing….” She looked me in the eye, and seemed to wait for something, but what, I didn’t know until she looked down at her lap. She mouthed it more than she said it. “I wet the bed for the first time, ever.” I nodded. “That’s kind of natural,” I whispered to her. “I go almost every morning when I wake up, and so surely it’s because I had to go in the night, but my body can wait, only you got scared….” She hung her head. “You wouldn’t have wet.” I blushed. I didn’t know if I would have or not, but I knew how scary it was to wet. I was scared to tell daddy earlier. “But you’re not me, and I’m not you, are we?” She shook her head no. She was quiet for a while. Maybe I had discouraged her. I shuffled in my seat not sure what to say to ease the uneasiness in the quiet back. Dad and Vanessa were talking really low in the front, so it was really quiet. I reached in back and pull out a bottle of soda for myself, and then looking at Octy, I asked her. “Hey, do you want some?” Octy just shrugged, so I gave her a grape one, and I put an orange and a grape one up in Vanessa’s lap for the adults. “Oh, thank you, honey,” Vanessa said to me. I smiled. I felt kind of shy about her thanking me for such a simple thing; especially, since I only thought of her after I thought of Octy because when I got me one, then I saw Octy, and knew she must not have anything, and if I was thirsty, she probably was, too. Suddenly, Octy began again after taking a small sip, a purple mustache started to lightly color her upper lip. “So, uncle came into the room, and he pushed me towards the closet. We had practiced that so many times before. I don’t think Uncle knew it was mixed with the police at the door. But even the police were there to take him, so it still wasn’t good for him.” I listened trying to keep my questions and my mouth shut so as not to discourage her again. They found me the next day, when I had to come out of hiding to get something to eat. I hadn’t eaten for breakfast or lunch, but stayed holed up in my safety spot, and no one found me all the time I was there. I had to pee my pants again, like twice, because I was too scared to come out. But finally, I had to eat. My room was quiet, and the lights in the hall were off. Out the bedroom window, I saw the sun going down. When I came out of my closet, I had seen that they had stripped my bed clean of everything, and my closet was so bare, it was like coming out into an unfamiliar bedroom. There was no evidence that I was even there. I poked my head into the hall, and the empty quietness was scary. I was afraid to turn on the light in case someone was still in the house, but there were no signs of them being there at the moment. “Octy,” I interrupted her, the idea that all her stuff was missing from her closet, and they still didn’t see her was bothering me. How could they miss her? “I’m sorry, but how did they not see you?” “Oh, that, well, my uncle cut a hole in the wall, a very small square hole, and he measured it so it could be a really tight squeeze even for me, and then he made like a secret little hiding room for me in there. It was not very bit to tell the truth, but it was perfect for hiding in, and it had pillows, a blanket, and I brought a stuffed animal with me when I hid in there.” “But how did they not see the hole?” “Oh, my uncle made sure I had a board on myside and some kind of like slot thing to put it in, so when they tried to push on it, it felt like wall, and I had to lift it out and into the slot to make it work, so they thought it was just all closet.” “Wow!” She smiled shyly at me. After a few moments where she drank a little of her soda and I looked out at the clouds lazily floating across the sky, I started to hear her continue the tale. The kitchen and living room were all dark, so it seemed fine. I thought I was out of the woods, so I turned on the light so I could see what there was to eat, and when I did, there was sudden knocking at the door, and they broke in again. I wasn’t fast enough, and they grabbed me. I fought them tooth and nail, scratching, pulling hair, and biting arms and legs, but eventually, they held me so I couldn’t fight and just kept on me until I had no more energy left. And I knew I had lost. That night, I took a ride to a scary looking office, still hungry because I hadn’t eaten anything yet, and I was very thirsty, too. I was too scared to tell them though, so I couldn’t help from coughing a lot. They took me into an office, where a lady was on the phone with someone, and I felt my stomach growl. I put my hands on my tummy, because it hurt from being hungry, and looking around the office, you could tell there was no food in there, so there was really no point in asking at that time. I’m really sorry, but I was so nervous, I was bad again. I had an accident. “Young lady!” the lady that had been on the phone looked up to see me wetting my pants again. “What do you think you are doing?” I shivered and cowered and tears came uncontrollably down my face, just like the water between my legs. “How old are you?” I shivered and cowered at her, not being able to get my chin to stop shivering from fright or get my tongue to speak from thirst. I just looked at her, like a mouse in front of a cat knowing the mouse hole was too far away now. “Stand up,” the lady had suddenly softened and sighed. “You can’t go to your new home like that.” “New home?” “Yes, sweetheart. Your uncle was taken to jail to await the process to answer for his crimes, and you have no one to take you in, so you are going to stay with a foster family tonight.” I frowned. “I don’t want to go.” The woman smiled softly and she bent down so she was eyelevel with me. “No one likes to go to foster care, sweetheart. But foster care is the best thing right now because your uncle is not able to be home to take care of you, and as far as we can tell, there is no one else that you are talking to.” “I have friends at school,” I said indignantly not liking that she assumed I was not loveable. “I didn’t mean friends, sweetheart. I meant a grandma or another aunt or uncle to take you in. Those are the only people that we can put you with temporarily who have not yet been put into the system.” “Oh.” “So, you can’t go in those wet clothes, little one. By the looks of it, you’ve been wearing wet clothes for a while.” “What did you aspect,” I said looking up at her. “The police took everything from my closet when I came out, so I had nothing to change into. I had to hide all day.” The woman nodded at me. “That’s understandable, but your bed was wet.” I frowned. I had peed in it when I was startled awake, but I kind of didn’t trust this woman. She was working for the bad guys that paid the police to raid my uncle, I think. So, I didn’t say why I peed the bed. She took my hand, and though every part of me wanted to kick her, bite her, and try to get away, I somehow stilled myself knowing that it was against the law to attack a policeman, and I thought she was probably like a policeman. I didn’t walk very fast though, and anyway, it was hard to walk fast. I was itching and uncomfortable from being wet, I was hungry and thirsty, and I was too nervous of her to know what she was really going to do to me. She pulled at my arm some, and that hurt, too, but eventually, she got me to the bathroom, where she made me wait. Then she stepped out for a long while, and so I started trying to drink water from the sink using my hands like a bowl, you know, like when you have nothing to hold the water in. I got a few handfuls of water wetting my shirt as I did while she was out, but she came in and shook her head at me. “You couldn’t just tell me you were thirsty?” she asked me. I hung my head. What was I supposed to think? That a bad person cares if you are thirsty? Uncle had prepared me for someone that might try to capture me and do something with me. I was prepared not to be fed or have water, so I got some when it was chanced to me. The woman sighed and she squatted down and started to peel off my pants. The stains on them told the story, of what positions and how many times they were peed into, and all I could do, was hold my head in shame. If I had had any clothes in my bedroom, I would have changed the minute I had a chance. “She almost yelled at you for wetting your pants in the office, but she already knew you’d peed yourself a bunch of times?” I asked Octy. “I think?” Octy looked down blushing and a little uncertain. “I’m sorry, Octy. I just got a little confused why one more accident would matter so much to someone.” “You and me, too,” October said blushing. “I mean. I sat in her office chair already wearing wet clothes. And they didn’t even offer anything to eat at all, and I was starving, but it’s like she didn’t see nothing.” I shook my head. “Well, it seems to me, that that woman was bad.” October looked up at me. “Look, I’ll deny everything if you ever tell anyone. But…. Yeah, I wet my pants once or twice when I was eight. My daddy didn’t let me wear the wet things long at all. As soon as he saw, he made me change, and even helped me the first time it happened. That’s just what you’re supposed to do with little kids when they wet, and you were like eight at time?” “Yeah,” Octy blushed. “So, you did it before, when you were eight years old?” I blushed. “Yeah. Once when I was too scared to ask a substitute teacher to use the toilet, once when we were in the car too long, and once when I was so sad I wasn’t paying attention because it was right after mommy died, and I peed my pants.” Octy reached back to me, and hugged me. “That last one doesn’t even count at all,” she said. “And I’ll never tell anyone what you told me. It’s hurtful to tell people stuff about other people that you know would make them hurt.” I nodded. “So, the lady said you were going to a foster family?” So, the lady put me in a diaper in the bathroom and then a skirt, and then she put me in a different shirt. She finally asked me about my wants after I was dressed in cleaner clothes. “So, you just pottied,” she told me. “Are you hungry or anything?” I nodded. I felt my face so burning in shame, it was still hard to talk. “We can stop and get you a snack on the way to meet your new foster parents, but they might have some dinner for you, so we’ll just get something small, okay?” I nodded. My stomach grumbled again, and before I knew it, we were off in the car again. I was about to meet some people connected to this woman. I wasn’t sure now, if she was paid by the people that were after my uncle, if she was a real policeman-like person, or if she was something entirely different. I just knew it wasn’t safe to trust anyone right now, but I was hungry. After we had stopped for something at Seven Eleven, I think it was, we drove out to the people’s house. Their house was a lot nicer than my uncle’s place. They had an upstairs you could tell from outside the house, and their walk was lined with red and yellow flowers. The brown door on the front of their house had orange glass in four panels in it, but the glass was foggy and dense, so you couldn’t really see through it. The door seemed like it was a sentry keeping me out of the clean environment. Even that night, scared, tired, and still hungry and smelling bad, I knew somehow, that I was an unwanted pest about to intrude upon a sterile environment. I hid behind the lady and let her talk first. She rang the doorbell, and was soon greeted by Mr. Gavins, a tall redheaded man with steely blue eyes. “Mr. Gavins?” the lady addressed the man. I never did get the woman’s name, somehow. I think she must have told me several times what her name was, and she probably dropped her name like twice in her conversation as she was dropping me off there, but I could never remember her name. “Yes, that’s me,” the man nodded at us. “…. So, is that the girl?” he had said a lot of stuff, some of which I just didn’t bother to listen for, but my ears caught when he started to talk properly about me. “She doesn’t look thirteen to me.” “As I told Mrs. Gavins on the phone, she’s just turned eight recently. We are still looking for a thirteen-year-old for you, but right now, this one has nowhere to go.” The man nodded and opened the door as he called out for the Mrs. “Honey! You got it right! They are trying to stick us with an eight-year-old child!” “Please, be nice,” I heard Mrs. Gavins come into the little entrance area from off to the right. “We can look after her for some time.” He sighed. “Well, we really don’t need an eight-year-old,” Mr. Gavins told her. “I know, babe, but she’s in need of a home, so let’s just play nice.” They were saying this in front of the policeman-like lady? Why didn’t the woman take me away right then? I still sometimes wonder how she could have left me with those people who really didn’t look like they wanted me in the first place. “Wait! They were being mean from the very start, and that lady just left you with people like that?” I felt my temper rise inside me. And they got Octy to believe she was bad. Those people didn’t know anything about Octy yet! And that woman didn’t seem to care enough to have done much looking into her either. This was a load of a word that my daddy doesn’t like me saying. “Yeah,” Octy looked down. “They wanted a teenager for a reason. They already had three kids. One was ten at the time, but she was still too little, really to do what they wanted the teenager for, and then there was a boy who was five and girl that was three.” “Okay, so what? Did they want a babysitter or something?” I asked what should have been obvious to me, but I wanted to make sure I had it clearly understood. Octy nodded. “I’m so sorry,” the man suddenly became polite after his wife told him to be nice. “It’s just we’ve been really wanting to help an older kid out of the system. We heard that they are often not chosen because they are too old for most people, but we really wouldn’t mind having a teen. As you can see, we already have younger kids.” The woman smiled at him, but I could only narrow my eyes at him. Something was off about the way he threw a fit that I wasn’t thirteen or something. I didn’t know what he had planned at the time for me, but I knew that he wanted a teen for whatever it was. Mrs. Gavins bent down and she took my hands. “So, I’m told your name is October,” she raised her voice at the end like a question. I nodded. “I’m called Octy.” I had tried to be polite and answer her, but I was still nervous, scared, and suspicious of everything. My voice didn’t want to go any higher though somehow, I felt it was a mistake not to speak up. “Well, Octy, it’s too bad your uncle was found to be a criminal, but at least you are safe now, right?” I looked up at her with a confusing and pouty indignant stare. I didn’t like the way she called my uncle a criminal. Even if he was arrested, I knew he didn’t do bad things, and as for being safe, I felt a lot safer around him than I did any of the people standing around me at the moment. “Well, never mind that,” the lady said appearing to read my violent vibes I was sending out that my uncle was a lot safer than anyone around here was. “Let’s just get you settled in, shall we?” “Oh, you may need to feed her. She was a little bit hungry on our way, so I got her a sandwich, but there’s no telling when she really ate last, and she had that sandwich down in two bites,” the woman told them. “She also needs a bath. She’s in a diaper right now, and it was just put on her less than an hour ago, so she shouldn’t be wet yet.” Mrs. Gavins nodded and took me off to the right, and into the kitchen area and lifted me up to the table to eat. Then she went to the fridge and pulled out some stuff to start cooking. I guess Mr. Gavins finished with the lady because that was the last time I saw her. “I don’t like that lady,” I told Octy. “She just made it sound like you just peed in diapers all day all the time.” “I know,” Octy nodded agreeing with me. “I didn’t like her from the minute I saw her, but what was I going to say? She got me when my pants were totally soaked from wetting a bunch of times, and then I peed in front of her. I didn’t think saying I don’t do that would have went very well then.” I nodded. “Maybe not. But she still shouldn’t have said it like that.” “Well, like I said, I don’t know if she was even a real policeman-like thing or whatever. I think she was actually trying to get rid of me so my uncle can’t find me.” I frowned. “But real police took you from the house?” “Yeah, I think….” I shook my head. “The lady seemed to be putting you with people though, and they fought about your age. I don’t know how foster stuff works, but we should look that up when we get to Wyoming.” Octy nodded. “I have to see if there is a way to find out what really happened to my uncle, and let him know I’m safe, and I’m not in the bad people’s hands anymore, unless you are somehow bad, and Vanessa tricked me.” “I promise, I’m not with bad people and my daddy’s job isn’t a secret at all.” Octy nodded. “Octy,” I saw her hands pushing on her pants. “Do you gotta go potty?” It had been about three hours now, and I vaguely remembered going through a few small towns and stuff, but Octy’s telling of her story was sort of interesting the way she said it. It was almost like a fairy-tale, and I really wished I didn’t know the end, and wanted the end to be happy, because this was definitely one of those stories right out of the classics, where you find the character suffering and in impossible situations, but in the finds happiness. “Kind of…,” she said butterfly opening and closing her legs. I leaned to the front. “Daddy? Can we stop soon? It’s not just me.” Daddy smiled and looked back at me for a moment. “You know I’d stop for you as soon as I can. You don’t have to say it that way.” “I know, but it’s really Octy! She’s about to pee her pants again, I think.” “You tell her that I’ll stop as soon as I can, but don’t be scared if she wets. We’ll get her comfortable if she can’t wait, but if she can, then I’m stopping as soon as I can, okay?” I nodded. ---------------------- This is just the first part of her story. I am still thinking about what she will say about the Gavins, so the next chapter, might be a little lighthearted stopping and maybe showing them spending the first night in a motel.

I have worn diapers in public, and it's a nonissue for me. I don't go out of my way to make it known or push it in front of people. I wear diapers like everyone else.

Any time I can, did it today Not to work though. Today I went swimming, and put a nappy on afterwards. Then I went to the bank and some shops and had a cup of tea in Subway. I was pretty damp when I got home. I love using my nappies in public too

Girl, if I was Gondwana, I would never have split up with you. That's the best my sleep deprived butt can come up with, but I couldn't stop myself from brainstorming (buttstorming?) after Laurasia first appeared in the story. Do you perhaps use autocorrect that holds grudges against Larisa? The chapter was like picking up Larisa's coffee order from Starbucks for a week, which was too amusing, at least in my current condition. You keep painting an exquisite picture of Avery looking and feeling out of place, and of the rising tensions inside the (love) triangle: Avery's mystique and Darlene's off-putting hands-on conduct. I knew the mess that Avery would make the moment he uttered spaghetti out of his mouth. Isn't there an unwritten rule that you do not order spaghetti on a date because there's no dignified way to eat it? Twist the fork all you like, but the dangling ends coated with sauce will still dance on your chin. As a person who hasn't learnt to appreciate the art of wine, the first image that popped into my head is Christy thinking: "Okay. This tastes like wine. Now say something smart." So turns out Jobs went to heaven and sold Jesus on an iPhone. I guess those Christian content filters paid off. I expected him, sorry, her to be more fun... I need someone to lock up my phone at night. I can't keep living like this. I hope it at least produced funny commentary. Anyway, until the next nightly chapter read! I will devour the rest of this story like Avery a bowl of fancy pants pasta.

Just a brief update here, but the next one will be longer. Kate Flashback 3 --- Kate sat at her desk, staring blankly at the scattered materials for her school diorama project. The more she tried to make sense of the instructions, the more confused and anxious she felt. Her thoughts raced, and her chest tightened as the familiar sensation of overwhelm crept in. Fiddling with a pencil, Kate's mind drifted to the comforting thoughts of her diapers. She knew that the soft, secure feeling and the soothing crinkle could help calm her nerves and provide a sense of safety during this challenging task. Kate hesitated for a moment, then made her way to her bedroom door. "Mom?" Kate called out tentatively. Her mother, Jenna, appeared at the door, her warm smile instantly putting Kate at ease. "Yes, sweetheart? Is everything okay?" Kate fidgeted, her eyes downcast. "I'm feeling really anxious. Could you... could you please put me in a diaper? I think it might help me feel better." Jenna's expression softened with understanding. She knelt down, gently tilting Kate's chin up to meet her gaze. "Of course, honey. I'm here to help you in any way I can. Let's get you comfortable, and then we can take another look at the project together." Kate nodded, a small smile of relief tugging at her lips. She lay down on her bed, and Jenna retrieved a diaper from the nearby dresser. With practiced tenderness, Jenna diapered Kate, ensuring a snug and secure fit. As she fastened the tabs, Jenna leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Kate's forehead. "There we go, all comfy and ready to tackle this project. Remember, Kate, it's okay to need a little extra support sometimes. Mommy's here for you, always." Kate sat up, already feeling the soothing effects of the diaper's embrace. The soft padding hugged her reassuringly, and the gentle rustling as she moved reminded her that she was safe and loved. Together, Kate and Jenna returned to the desk, the diaper's presence a comforting constant as they worked through the project instructions step by step. Jenna patiently explained the concepts, breaking them down into manageable pieces until Kate's confusion began to dissipate. As they worked, Kate occasionally shifted in her seat, the diaper's subtle squish signaling that she had wet it without even realizing. The sensation of the warm wetness spreading against her skin brought an additional layer of comfort, grounding her in the present moment and easing her anxiety further. With her mother's guidance and the security of her diaper, Kate found herself slowly immersing in the creative process. Her hands steadily brought the diorama to life, the once-daunting project transforming into a satisfying challenge. Hours later, as the final piece of the diorama clicked into place, Kate sat back and admired her work. Pride swelled in her chest, not only for the completed project but for her own resilience in the face of difficulty. Jenna beamed at her daughter, her eyes shining with love and admiration. "You did it, Katie! I'm so proud of you for persevering, even when it felt hard." Kate turned to her mother, her smile wide and genuine. "Thank you, Mom. For everything. For being there for me and understanding what I need." Jenna enveloped Kate in a warm hug, the diaper crinkling softly between them. "Always, my brave girl. Always."

Part 7: After the tumultuous group session, Dr. Simmons secured Jacob’s newly written diary of shame around his neck and passed him off to yet another orderly. There was so little continuity in his care that he scarcely glanced at her face as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders to guide him down the hall back to his room. His diaper drooped heavily under him, and Jacob worried that he might be leaving a trail of brown fluid in his wake. Others made a broad path for him as he passed, but his current attendant talked to him kindly as if she didn’t even notice the foulness. “Good boy, Jacob,” she praised him. “That’s it. You know how to get back to your room. I bet you will feel good once we get you in a clean diaper.” He wanted to take comfort in her kindness, but after the day he’d had, it just made him wonder if this new woman thought he couldn’t think past the contents of his diaper, that he didn’t know how to walk down the hall to his room. At least Miss Kristen’s disdain made him feel that there was at least some expectation that he could be better than a drooling infant. "There we go, Jacob, let's get you into a nice, fresh diaper," she chirped as she helped him climb onto the changing table and pulled a strap against his mid-section to ensure he didn’t fling himself off. As she unfolded the used diaper, the room was filled with the pungent odor of Jacob's uncontrolled release. The smell was acrid, a potent mixture of ammonia from the urine and a heavier, more suffocating odor from the feces that had been confined against his skin for too long. With the diaper opened, the orderly's face tightened for a moment, a professional mask slipping at the reality of the task ahead. The mess was substantial, coating Jacob's genitals and bottom in a way that made the cleanup not just necessary but arduous. Without a word, she folded the front of the diaper down, ensuring the soiled interior didn't come into contact with Jacob, yet leaving it under him as a protective layer for the changing surface. She began with wipes, each one drawing across his skin with a cold, damp touch that was startling each time. The wipes were thorough but gentle, moving methodically over his skin to remove every trace of the mess. She had to pay particular attention to the head of his penis, and Jacob closed his eyes and willed himself to avoid yet another humiliating erection. As she worked, she revealed the irritated skin beneath, which stung as the cold wipes worked against it and tingled in the open air. As the mess covering his front diminished, she scooped Jacob's knees up in one hand to lift his bottom off the ground. Her hands were gentle, but each touch, each wipe, each shift of his body only emphasized how she perceived him: utterly incapable. Once she had cleared most of the mess, the orderly disposed of the soiled diaper and prepared Jacob for a fresh one. Despite the clear need for a soothing treatment, she strictly adhered to her orders, leaving the reddened skin untreated and exposed. Jacob couldn’t help but groan as the new diaper was sealed around him. He instinctively moved his arms to try to reach his stinging groin. Desperate for some kind of relief. “Now, now, those restraints are there to keep you from touching your little pee pee,” the orderly chided. As she fastened the last tape on his new diaper, a sudden commotion outside the room caught her attention. Her head snapped towards the door. "Oh dear, what now?" she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to Jacob. With an apologetic glance, she hurried off, leaving Jacob on the table. Left alone, Jacob's first instinct was a surge of relief — relief from the infantilizing treatment, if only for a moment. He was still restrained and strapped to the changing table, in full view of anyone looking in through the window, but he was alone in this room with no one to taunt him. Jacob lay there waiting for the orderly to return for a while; he didn’t know how long. The room grew quiet as the chaos outside seemed to have resolved or moved elsewhere. The straps around his waist and the restraints keeping his hands linked to his neck made any significant movement a challenge. Yet, he was realizing that he may, for once, have actually been forgotten about. It was unclear how long he would be left strapped to this table before someone remembered him. He began to carefully test the restraints, feeling for any slack that might offer him an opportunity. The strap around his waist was secure but not beyond manipulation. With a mixture of resolve and ingenuity, he contorted slightly, straining against the limitations imposed by the restraints binding his hands to his neck. It was a painstaking process, each small shift bringing him incrementally closer to the buckle of the waist restraint. He sucked against the pacifier still lodged in his mouth as he tried to draw in more air. The fresh diaper crinkled loudly with every move, making Jacob pause and worry that someone might pass by and hear it outside, but he knew that was absurd. Loud as it was, it couldn’t be that loud, right? Bit by bit, Jacob managed to maneuver his restrained hands towards the buckle. His fingers, clumsy from the awkward positioning, fumbled with the fastening. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his fingers caught the edge of the buckle, and with a careful tug, he loosened it enough to wriggle free from the strap's hold. The sense of achievement was immediate, a small victory he needed to not fully buy into all Dr. Simmons said about him. On the edge of his changing table, Jacob paused, his feet dangling as he assessed the drop. It wasn't far to the floor, but the restraints around his hands and the uncertainty of his balance made the descent daunting. Carefully, he slid further until gravity took over, and his feet made contact with the ground. He was right to be concerned as he immediately fell backward, landing with a muffled thud on his diapered bottom. The impact was jarring but not as painful as it could have been—his diaper served as an unintended cushion. He felt like a toddler, sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and his thick diaper ballooning between them as his arms dangled from his neck, but at the same time, Jacob felt a surge of freedom. He was still within the confines of the room, his movements hampered by the restraints, but the act of getting off the table on his own was a small victory against his current state of dependency. Emboldened, he moved towards the door, where he cautiously peered out into the hall. The hallway was mostly empty, save for an orderly stationed at a desk some distance away, engrossed in paperwork. Jacob watched for a moment, the orderly's obliviousness to his observation granting him a sense of invisibility. However, the risk of being seen was too great, and he quickly ducked back into the room. Jacob fiddled with his hand restraints. The buckles, designed to prevent exactly this kind of manipulation, held fast, leaving him to confront the futility of his situation. He harbored a faint hope that the day's activities might have loosened the straps enough to allow for an escape. However, as he twisted and turned his wrists, the reality set in without resorting to the extreme measure of dislocating his thumbs; freedom remained out of reach. He looked in the bathroom mirror at himself. His arms restrained close to his body, the diary of the day's events dangling around his neck, and the pacifier that dominated the bottom of his face. He didn’t dare move the diary. Jacob worried such a move might result in Dr. Simmons having his failures tattooed against him or something far more extreme than a pad of paper with barely legible script. But as he saw the strap for the pacifier more clearly now, he realized he could work that out of his mouth. The size of the bulb made it difficult, but with the help of his hands, which easily reached his face, he could wiggle it out. His jaw ached from the relief of being free from the gag. He yearned to speak, to fill the silence with his voice, but the risk of drawing unwanted attention kept him mute. In the mirror, Jacob could see the damage left behind by the pacifier. His skin was deeply indented to such an extreme that there would be no doubt what had been in his mouth. He rubbed at the skin, wondering how long it would take to bounce back if it would bounce back. He moved next for this collar but couldn’t find the buckle. Contorting himself, he finally saw in the mirror that there was some kind of clasp covering it, but he couldn’t work it out. The knowledge that his restraint was somehow smarter than him reminded Jacob of all Dr. Simmons had said. He looked back on his education; there were As in English and math, but he also remembered taking a life skills class where they prepared him to balance a checkbook and fill out a timesheet. He’d never played sports or had many friends because of his size and condition. Was his degree a delusion? Were his classmates all other students in special ed? He made his way to the bed. The restraints were laid open in anticipation of his return, making it less inviting as a place to relax. Yet, exhaustion from his exertions compelled him. After several awkward attempts, he managed to settle into a position that was not entirely uncomfortable. He drew the blanket at the bed’s base over himself. In this small, personal space, he curled up, hoping to blend into the background, to be forgotten in the aftermath of the day's events. He drifted to sleep. When Jacob next woke, the sight that met his eyes was not welcome. Miss Kristen had returned. The golden hue flooding the room through the window told him it must be evening. She pulled back the covers, revealing the soaked diaper. Jacob hadn't eaten since breakfast, and his stomach growled. "Wakey wakey, Jacob! Looks like you've had a busy day," she said with a jovial tone that caught Jacob off guard. She spotted the notepad around Jacob's neck and wasted no time leafing through it. Reading aloud, she found each entry more amusing than the last. “‘Couldn't stop myself from humping my diaper in the bouncer.' Oh, Jacob, well, we already knew you’re public masturbartor, not too surprising!! 'Drank from a bottle,’ 'Couldn't finish simple patterns,' 'Failed IQ test.' Not the brightest, are we? And what's this? 'Exposed for lying about graduating high school when I was in special ed, not real school.' Jacob, Jacob, Jacob, honesty is the best policy," she tsked, shaking her head in mock disappointment. Miss Kristen paused for effect before reading the last entry, "'Pooped in my diaper in front of the whole group after claiming I could hold it.' A grand finale indeed!" Her laughter filled the room, devoid of any empathy or understanding. “But Jacob,” she paused, grinning at him and grabbing his face with one hand, forcing him to pucker his lips like a fish as he looked at her. “Your day isn’t over, yet!” she threatened with a punctuated slap to the front of his diaper, which, if Jacob wasn’t fully awake yet, was enough to jolt him to attention. “What does that mean?” Jacob asked and almost recoiled at the sound of his own voice after not hearing it in so many hours. Miss Kristen stopped her movement to get up and fetch a gown from the changing table when he spoke like she, too, was surprised to find he could speak. Her eyes widened in the realization that, of course, he’d been gagged during their last interaction. "Oh, Jacob, I see we've decided to be naughty and lose our little pacifier," she said, her tone threatening. "But don't you worry, your mouth will be full again soon enough," she added cryptically, her words heavy with an unspoken promise of further interventions. The nature of her statement left Jacob uneasy, the ambiguity of her words casting a shadow over the momentary sense of victory he had felt at discarding the pacifier. Miss Kristen retrieved a hospital gown from the changing table and reached around Jacob’s neck, releasing the collar more easily than Jacob expected, given his earlier difficulty. She spent longer undoing the restraints that bound his hands. “Now, just because I’m releasing you doesn’t mean you should stick your little hands down your wet diaper, Jacob. That would be yucky.” The release from the restraints brought both physical relief and a reminder of the reasons behind their necessity. Jacob's arms ached as blood flow returned to normal. Miss Kristen continued, removing his sweatshirt, sliding the hospital gown over his arms, and securing it behind his neck. She left the waist tie undone so that Jacob’s diaper was on full display when he stood. His stomach grumbled again in hunger. "Don’t worry, Jacob, I’m taking you to dinner," Miss Kristen told him with a look that suggested he should worry about what was on the menu. Jacob was surprised when Miss Kristen, with her characteristic hold on the back of his neck, guided him towards the ward’s exit and into the main wings of the hospital. As they walked, he sensed she was deliberately choosing the most circuitous route. They wandered through a labyrinth of hallways, passing various wards and a multitude of hospital staff and patients. Jacob’s diaper wasn’t so wet to droop, but he’d released enough to make the padding grow awkwardly, and a small yellow tint was plain to all who looked. The whispering and sidelong glances from those who passed were unmistakable, adding layers to Jacob's profound embarrassment. Eventually, they arrived at an unexpected destination: the maternity ward. The sounds of newborns and the sight of new mothers were out of place for Jacob's current situation. Miss Kristen, however, appeared unfazed by this incongruity. She opened the door to a room within the ward, revealing a woman sitting on a couch. She had a matronly appearance, with large bosoms and a kind yet somewhat imposing presence. Her eyes landed on Jacob, taking in his state with a quick, discerning glance. Miss Kristen, with a grin still playing on her lips, announced their arrival. "Good evening, Mrs. Green! Brought someone to see you.” Jacob stood there, the open back of his gown and his wet diaper on full display, feeling utterly out of place in the maternal setting of the room. As Miss Kristen left, closing the door and leaving him alone with the woman, Jacob felt a new surge of apprehension. The woman, her demeanor matronly yet commanding, beckoned Jacob closer with a gesture that brooked no refusal. When he neared her, the woman stood, her presence even more imposing up close. She inspected his diaper, her touch invasive as she prodded the padding. "Oh dear, what a state you're in," she remarked, her tone laced with a mixture of pity and scorn. "A grown man, yet so utterly helpless and pathetic. It's quite a sight, isn't it?" She pulled open the back of his diaper and peered inside. "I've been informed about your delusions, Jacob. You seem to have trouble accepting how infantile both your mind and body really are. Part of your resistance, it seems, is tied to your fears about intimacy." Finding nothing, she moved back around to his front, running her hand over his diapered penis and making the fabric crinkle loudly. "You think accepting your true state will rob you of any chance at intimacy in your life. But Jacob, intimacy isn't just about physical connections. It's about accepting who you are and finding someone who understands and cares for you in that state." In his current state, the idea of intimacy seemed an impossible, almost cruel concept to Jacob. "You need to embrace your reality, Jacob," she continued, her tone firm. "Only then can you understand what true intimacy might look like for you." She couldn’t quite be certain given the thickness of the padding, but she felt confident Jacob’s pee pee had stiffened beneath the sodden fabric. She sat back on the couch and motioned for Jacob to sit beside her. Jacob's stomach grumbled audibly as he sat down. With an unexpected gentleness, she guided Jacob into her lap, cradling him. "I heard you forgot to eat lunch, Jacob," she gently scolded. Jacob started to resist, to protest that this wasn’t a true statement. He didn’t forget; no one came to get him, but she simply placed a finger over his lips and continued to cradle him tightly. "It seems you really do need someone to look after you, like the baby you are." The woman's voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with seriousness. "Jacob, Dr. Simmons says you need to experience something the type of intimacy someone with an infantile behaviors like yours can appreciate. She thinks it's essential for you to learn to breastfeed." Jacob's heart skipped a beat at her words. The idea was absurd, beyond anything he could have imagined. As an adult man in a psychiatric hospital, the notion of being taught to breastfeed was as surreal as it was unsettling. He couldn't make sense of it or grasp how this could be part of any legitimate treatment plan. The woman, however, continued to speak with an air of conviction, her gaze never wavering. "You see, Jacob, breastfeeding can create a unique bond and sense of security. It will help you realize how helpless you are." She gently patted the front of his diaper as if he needed any reminder as to why everyone thought he deserved to be treated this way. Mrs. Green, undeterred by Jacob's obvious shock, maintained her nurturing yet firm demeanor. "Jacob, I know this is difficult for you to understand, but you must admit part of your body is up for the occasion.” She squeezed the area of his diaper where she knew his penis would be. “Now, it’s too small for me to feel, but I bet that little wee wee of yours feels very good now that you’re so close to such large breasts.” She easily unlatched her shirt and bra, clearly designed for easy feedings, so her large breast fell out. Her hands were warm and reassuring as she guided her nipple to his closed lips, teasing it against them. "Open your mouth, Jacob," she instructed, her voice patient and maternal. Jacob closed his eyes, wondering what would happen if he had just said no. If he got up and tried to run away. He would probably end up right back here, but in a straight jacket, he considered and opened his mouth to accept the woman’s nipple. "Just like that, Jacob. Relax and let it happen." The woman continued to rub his diaper, ensuring it crinkled with each stroke as he began to suck on her nipple. "There, there, this is all fitting for a big baby like you. You do need this, don't you, Jacob? You need someone to feed you and monitor your diapers and behavior." As the woman continued her mocking and Jacob continued sucking, milk began to flow. Jacob, thinking this was an exercise in make-believe, was entirely unprepared for this reality. He attempted to pull away, his movements sudden and awkward, but the woman held him firmly in place. "Shh, it's okay, Jacob. Just relax," she soothed, cradling him tighter so she was now patting him on his bottom as she pressed her breast into him, not letting him pull back. As milk filled his mouth brought, a surge of panic overwhelmed him. In a desperate bid for release, Jacob clamped his teeth down on her nipple, just enough he hoped to make her release him. And it worked. She shrieked out in pain, reflexively pushing him from her lap, sending him tumbling to the floor. Jacob looked up at her from the ground; a solitary drop of milk lingered at the corner of his mouth. His eyes darted to the door, the urge to flee from the room, from the repercussions of his actions, pressing heavily upon him. The greater risk was now not getting away, not making his escape. Yet, as he scrambled to his feet, his movements were hampered by the sudden, vice-like grip that encased his wrist. In an instant, Mrs. Green regained her composure and control over the situation. Her grip tightened, pulling Jacob's arm behind his back swiftly, leaving no room for resistance. She drew him back towards the couch with ease until Jacob was once again over her lap. Only now, he was not looking into breasts. He was staring at the floor as she pinned him to her thighs with his diapered bottom exposed to the inevitable blows to come. Jacob cringed in anticipation for the first strike. If you are enjoying this story, know that I have promised that all of this story will make it onto this site and I intend to do that but it will always be behind when I post on patreon (there are 11 parts on patreon ... I imagine this story will have 13 parts, so it is almost complete). My patreon has other stories and now captions which are all deviations on a similar theme of diapered men being debased, degraded, and humiliated. patreon.com/user?u=7664738

I miss the smelly bed, but for my wife I keep things under control . But since our dog has taken over my side of our bed, its not an issue , I can't sleep a normal night so for 4 plus yrs I have been sleeping in my recliner , see I sleep best around sun rise, and till noon if I can . So our $5000 dollar king adjustable bed, it's like 2 twins with motors etc, but anyhow I need TV on she needs TV off. So it's what it is. I have my spare bedroom but it's toooooo full, I want to find a way to clean it out and then I can make better use of it. T may be able to get it smelly to a point? But it would be soo cool to have a bedwetting partner. I remember my brother and me getting into a pee fight we stood and peed all over each others bed. Mom made use sleep in it. And that punishment was not a good idea 💡 I think it made me want to sleep in pee, even his.......

A little while later, Ted lay in his bed, pants at his ankles, basking in his self pleasure. He still couldn’t believe what he’d heard coming from his roommate’s bedroom. The situation had aroused him in a new way. Ted had never been very kinky, but there was something extremely sexy and titillating about Stacey and Lara spanking each other. Ted realized that this seemed to have been a regular thing for some time. Stacey had asked rhetorically “how many times” had she spanked Lara for not doing dishes. Ted wondered what they would think if they knew he’d overheard them trading spankings. Just then, he heard footsteps in the hall way. He froze. Though his door was closed, the lights in his room were on, so anyone happening past would know he was home. He panicked when he realized he had also left his backpack and his shoes in the middle of the floor outside his bedroom. The footsteps stopped. There was silence for a long moment. Whichever of Ted’s roommates had come downstairs surely saw his stuff and knew he was in his room. He lay there motionless, naked from the waist down praying the girl would just quickly move on so he could sneak out the front door. Suddenly, he heard clattering on the wall. It sounded like wood connecting with drywall. The noise was brief, then the footsteps quickly started again and faded down the hall. Sensing his moment, Ted pulled up his pants, slipped out of his room as quietly as he could and grabbed his shoes. He snuck out the front door and hurried down the street. But before he left, Ted had been acutely aware - there were once again two paddles hanging next to the front door. --- Lara hurried back upstairs after replacing the paddle on the wall. She knew she was supposed to go do the dishes straight away, but she just had to go tell Stacey that Ted was home and likely heard their discipline session. Bursting into Stacey’s room and closing the door behind her, Lara whispered loudly to her roommate. “He’s home!” she said breathlessly. “What??” Stacey looked up from her text book. She was laying on her bed on her stomach studying, wearing just a t-shirt and underwear, her sore bottom skyward and partially exposed. “Ted. He’s here. When I went to put the paddle away, I saw the lights on in his room.” Stacey gaped. “Maybe he just left them on…” Lara shook her head and cut Stacey off. “Nope. His backpack and shoes were on the floor in the hallway.” “Shit…” Stacey sat up in bed, wincing slightly. “You think he heard us?” “I don’t see how he didn’t.” The girls were silent for a minute. Then Lara tried to stifle a giggle, but failed. Stacey stared at her. “So what if he heard us?” said Lara smiling. “Maybe it’s the opening we’ve been looking for.” Stacey remained silent. She was embarrassed that Ted knew their secret. But maybe Lara was right. Maybe the time had come to incorporate Ted into their rituals. Lara continued. “I mean, he left his stuff in the middle of the floor downstairs. That’s one of the first things you spanked me for.” She had an air of indignation with her last remark. Almost, ‘it’s not fair!’ A smile curled in one corner of Stacey’s mouth. She began imagining Ted splayed out across her ample lap, his cute bare bottom turning red as she slapped him with her hairbrush. “You’re right,” Stacey said, climbing out of bed. “It’s time for Ted to get his.” She grabbed her hairbrush from atop her dresser and headed for the door, not bothering to put any pants on. Lara followed behind her, giggling excitedly. The two friends marched downstairs, their conviction steeled by their freshly spanked bottoms. Stacey could feel the cool air against her nearly-bare butt, causing a tingle to grow in her reddened cheeks. She didn’t mind being exposed like that - after all, Ted was about to be similarly exposed, she thought. But when the girls reached Ted’s room, he was nowhere to be found. The lights in his bedroom were off, and the door open. His backpack was still in the middle of the floor, but his shoes had disappeared. “Dammit,” Lara cursed, picking up the bag. “He was definitely here. He must have snuck out when I went upstairs.” “Hmmm…” Stacey furrowed her brow and tapped the brush idly against her palm. “We’ll have to catch him another time. Maybe we should make a plan.” “Yeah,” Lara said eagerly. “We can lay a trap for him. Then give him an ultimatum: move out or get spanked.” Stacey smiled. “Yes. Absolutely.” Her smile widened. “I have something in mind already. We can talk it through, but first,” she smacked Lara’s butt hard with the brush, “you need to go clean up the kitchen young lady. Unless you want another dose?” Lara yelped and grabbed her bottom. She dropped Ted’s backpack and hurried down the hall to the kitchen.

With the semester underway, things had normalized at the house on Columbia Ave. The three roommates all got busy with their studies and other school activities. Stacey and Lara were especially preoccupied during their sorority’s rush week, vetting freshmen who wanted to join. Stacey couldn’t help checking out a few of their butts, wondering what they would look like under the force of her paddle. The conversation with Lara’s mom had been ringing in her ears and left her pining for the “good old days.” Stacey had developed a bit of a dominant streak over the last two years. While she certainly relished the accountability and nurturing she received when Lara spanked her, Stacey had come to enjoy having her roommate over her knee, watching her bottom go from pale pink to bright red. The thought of initiating pledges into her sorority in a similar way was very titillating. Meanwhile, Lara had been toeing the line, really trying to be her best self in her final year of school. She and Stacey had traded blows with the strap during their first Wednesday night session as promised, but otherwise Lara had thus far avoided any serious punishment. And Ted was none the wiser about the whole arrangement. He blissfully went about his routine, working hard in school during the week and going wild on the weekends. He still lamented that he couldn’t organize a huge event in his backyard, knowing for sure it would be the best party of the year, but he made do finding plenty of house parties and bars to drink in. He had also managed to stay on top of his household cleaning duties, certainly not maintaining the tidiness that his roommates did, but holding his own. Overall, conflict had been at a minimum, and the housing situation was working out perfectly. During the first week of October, Ted’s night class let out early. The professor sent his TA, and said students should work together on their group project. Ted’s group met for about 15 minutes, divided up tasks and agreed to reconvene on Friday morning. With an evening suddenly free, Ted scurried home to drop his books so he could meet his friends at their favorite bar. With classes every Wednesday, he has been missing their standard outing for the 10 cent wing special. Coming through the back door of the house, just off the kitchen, Ted noticed a pile of dishes in the sink, which was unusual. There were also dirty pots and pans on the stove, with sauces smeared on the burners. It was odd to see such a mess in the kitchen, but Ted didn’t think much of it, eager to get to the bar. As he stepped past the foot of the stairs, he heard a loud noise that stopped him in his tracks. A distinctive, rhythmic slapping noise was coming from one of the two upstairs bedrooms. Ted was puzzled at first, and took a couple of steps up wanting to make sure everything was ok. But then he froze when he heard Stacey’s voice. “How many times have we had to talk about this?” she said. The slapping continued. “Why do I always wind up reminding you to clean up the kitchen after you cook?” More slapping. Ted was starting to understand what was happening, but couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Stacey’s voice grew louder and more stern. “And how many times…” SMACK SMACK SMACK - the slapping got louder too, “have I had to put you over my knee…” SMACK SMACK SMACK “and spank your bare little butt…” SMACK SMACK SMACK “over the stupid dishes!!” A flurry of smacks followed, and Ted finally heard Lara’s voice. “Ooowwwww!! I’m sorry I’m sorry!! Aahhoowww!” “Holy shit…” Ted whispered. He silently mouthed the words “spank your bare little butt??” His mind flashed to an image of the scene upstairs. He pictured Lara sprawled over Stacey’s lap, her bare ass up in the air while Stacey spanked her relentlessly. Though he couldn’t see actually it, the sound did not sound quite like flesh against flesh. He wondered what Stacey was using to spank Lara. His cock stiffened. Ted was shocked by what he was hearing, but the idea of his Lara's bare ass getting slapped was definitely arousing. He stayed glued to the floor while the punishment continued upstairs. Lara continued begging for it to stop. After a few minutes, it did. He thought he could hear Lara sniffling. Both girls’ voices became low and indistinguishable. Ted could hear footsteps creaking on the floor along with some muffled voices, and he started to backpedal down the stairs. Just as he reached the bottom… CRACK A loud smack erupted from above, far louder than before. “Ohhhh ahh!” It took a minute for Ted to realize, that was Stacey’s voice. Another loud CRACK echoed down the stairs. “Ohhhhoowowowow!” That was definitely Stacey howling. They were taking turns spanking each other!! Ted crept back halfway up the stairs. A third smack fell, and he heard Lara’s voice. “Now before I give you these last three, are you going to miss any classes next week?” There was silence, then a flurry of loud slaps, sounding just like a hand slapping someone’s face. Ted knew it wasn’t Stacey’s face being slapped. “Oooaawwww!! No no no, I won’t miss class again at all owww!” “Good,” Lara answered. CRACK CRACK CRACK The slaps came one after the next, louder and harder, not fast, but not giving Stacey any time to catch her breath in between. Ted could hear her burst into tears. He could hear Lara shushing and reassuring her. He imagined Stacey bent over the edge of the bed, her pants at her ankles, Lara gently rubbing her bare, red backside. His dick swelled, and he began gently rubbing it through his pants. Knowing the spanking had ended, Ted silently retreated down the stairs to his bedroom so he could relieve the tension that had grown between his legs. On the way to his bedroom, he passed the entryway, and doubled back. He was sure there had been two sorority paddles hanging there all semester, but now there was only one. A smile spread wide across his face as he realized what Stacey had just been spanked with. His member ached, and he rushed into his room to attend to it.

My nappies are now an essential part of my life. I'm always in one, and always will be. Everything else has to fit around them - and it works OK for me. I don't look back.

Later that evening, the girls were sharing a pizza each nursing a very sore bottom. They had each given the other 20 bare bottomed paddle swats to atone for any and all misbehavior over the summer. It was a lot, and both girls had a serious welt to show for it, but neither of them would have wanted to start their senior year any other way. “So should we talk about our friend Teddy?” Lara asked. “Hmm yes, I’ve been thinking about this. We’ll have to make sure we know his class schedule so we can pick our moments for punishment times,” said Stacey. “He already mentioned something to me about a night class on Wednesdays at least in the fall semester. Maybe we could have a standing weekly ‘appointment’ those nights?” Lara suggested. “Oh yeah, that could work,” Stacey said. “I actually like the idea of a regularly scheduled check in. Could be good for us.” Lara smiled and shifted in her seat. She agreed that a scheduled spanking might be a good addition to her weekly routine. “But we might have occasion to need a spanking outside of Wednesdays,” Stacey continued. “I can recall more than a few times that one of us -ahem- needed more than one spanking in a single week.” Lara looked down at her plate, ashamed. It was true that she wound up being spanked far more often than Stacey. Not that Stacey never earned a punishment, but Lara found herself draped over her friends lap with much more regularity. “Yeah… well… I’ll just have to be a really good girl…” Lara said with a nervous chuckle. Stacey laughed loudly. “Oh I’m suuurre that will be the case.” They both laughed heartily. “But seriously,” Stacey said, “we’re going to have to be careful if one of us - myself included! - needs to be spanked when Ted might be around.” Lara sat quietly for a moment, thinking. Then she offered another suggestion. “We don’t … necessarily… have to keep it a secret…” Stacey stared at her friend silently. It would definitely make things easier if they could be open about their discipline structure. But could they trust Ted? Wouldn’t he find it weird and off putting? She recalled the day last spring when their friend Ashley found out. Ashley had been over at their apartment, and while looking for something in the kitchen, stumbled upon the hand written list of rules and punishments. The one that said ‘ALWAYS ON THE BARE,’ across the bottom, leaving no doubt as to its meaning. Since the three girls were planning to live together in the fall, Lara and Stacey decided to just explain their agreement and its merits to Ashley. Ashley found it all rather strange, but reserved judgement. She promised to keep their secret, as long as she didn’t have to participate. Stacey and Lara agreed, but ultimately, Ashley backed out of moving in with the girls, thinking it would be too awkward to be around when her friends were spanking each other. Stacey was worried Ted might be similarly apprehensive. “I don’t know…” she said. “What if we scare him off the way we did with Ashley?” “Yeah…I know. It’s risky,” said Lara. “I guess better to just try to keep it from him. But we might want to be prepared with a game plan if he happens to find out on his own.” “Good point,” Stacey agreed. She chuckled. “Maybe if he has a problem with it, I’ll just toss him over my knee!” “Oh ho ho, now that I would like to see!” Lara laughed and bit her lip. She felt a warmth grow between her legs as she imagined Ted getting his bare butt spanked “Who knows, maybe you’ll get your wish. I say, if Ted ever finds out what’s going on, we just explain everything and invite him to participate,” Stacey proposed. “Interesting…” mused Lara. “I guess he is likely to forget to do his dishes or leave messes around at some point anyway, and I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to paddle his ass when he does.” Stacey snickered. She too was a little excited about the idea of giving Ted a good hard spanking. He was a really sweet guy, but she knew he would still benefit from regular discipline, just as she and Lara did. “Yeah we might want to have a talk with him when he moves in, just about our expectations for cleanliness and helping out with household stuff,” suggested Stacey. “And if he has trouble following the rules, we’ll just have to find some ways to ‘motivate’ him to do better.” Lara giggled. “Ok, so we’re decided. We’ll try to keep Ted in the dark, but if he happens to find out, or he turns out to be a slob, we’ll just be straight with him and encourage that he might want to join us.” “Perfect,” Stacey answered. “So… With that settled, I have a little something for you.” “What? Aww honey, that’s sweet! What is it?” Lara jumped up from the table and returned with a long slender package, neatly wrapped. “Here,” she said beaming at Stacey and handing her the box. Stacey smiled widely and tore open the package. Opening the thin box, she revealed a wide leather strap, engraved with the letters ‘B-F-F.’ There was also a note in the box. Stacey, Thanks for being not just my BFF, but my accountability partner too. I can’t imagine how I would have make it through college without you. Kisses and Spanks, -L Stacey’s eyes got misty. “Oh Lara this is so thoughtful! What a sweet note!” Stacey picked up the strap by its handle. “This thing looks like serious business though…” She tapped the heavy leather against her palm. “Yeah…” Lara demurred, blushing. “I guess for the most serious infractions?” Stacey smiled. “Yeah. For the baddest behavior,” she giggled. “But I think we’ll need to give it a test drive.” She glared at Lara. Lara’s face when white. “Not yet!! You just finished bruising my ass!!” Stacey laughed. “No, you’re right, not right now. But maybe we can take turns with it for our first Wednesday night appointment?” Lara relaxed, but clearly harbored some anxiety about the heavy duty implement she had just gifted her friend. Still, she smiled and nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Lara. I love it. Can’t wait to try it out.” Stacey gave her friend a big hug and briskly rubbed her sore bottom.

January was a busy month but I am still active on my patreon. I am dropping three sections here now. There are 7 on patreon with an 8th coming later this week and the a one off story which will hopefully hit patreon but won't be posted here over next weekend. Here is part 4: In his room within the psychiatric ward, Jacob waited for quiet time to end in restless discomfort. The room, while clean, was clinical in its simplicity. A barred window, positioned directly above what had been repurposed to become his diaper changing station, cast a weak light across the room. The realization that his ground-floor room exposed the changing table to outside view only added to his discomfort. Jacob harbored a faint hope of managing his own diaper changes in private, but his experiences thus far suggested his hopes were the real delusion. The room's furnishings were sparse: a narrow bed with a firm mattress and a lone pillow, alongside a small, bolted-down table. Jacob was keenly aware of the diaper beneath his jumpsuit, its presence marked by the constant crinkling sound with each shift he made. Initially, the jumpsuit hadn't seemed too uncomfortable, but the continuous stretch against his groin became increasingly irksome. He ran his hand over the stiff padding that enforced the separation of his legs. This padding, starting just above his knees and extending up his thighs, was only a part of the restrictive mechanism. Attached to it was a harder plastic piece that extended behind his buttocks, connecting to a sturdy belt around his waist. The device would have been heavy, but the jumpsuit’s crotch section provided necessary support for its weight. The design's true ingenuity lay in how it arched over his groin area. The hard plastic curved outward, creating a noticeable gap between the jumpsuit and his diaper, before tapering back in to join the belt at his waist. This design effectively ensured a significant physical barrier, preventing any direct contact with his groin. It also probably looked bizarre, like he was a marsupial holding his babies in a pouch around his hips. Jacob experimented with the restrictive device, attempting to push it closer to his body, but standing up, he found it immovable. Seeking another approach, he lay on his stomach on the bed, only to discover that the plastic front caused his buttocks to lift awkwardly into the air. The only way to lie somewhat comfortably was by adopting a modified child’s pose, with his knees spread wide and his rear elevated, his diapered crotch suspended several inches above the bed. For Jacob, the frustration wasn't so much about being unable to self-pleasure — the idea of jacking off in such a humiliating and exposed environment was the furthest thing from his mind. Rather, it was the constant sensation of suspension that bothered him, that and a growing need to ease the itching and burning sensation cause be his diaper rash. Being unable to make any contact left him feeling oddly disconnected from his own body. His diaper, which he had gradually been wetting due to his incontinence, was the only tangible sensation he had. Even as it began to swell and sag within the confines of the jumpsuit, it never bulged enough to reach the spreader, leaving him with just the feeling of it growing heavier and more uncomfortable. Lying on his back, Jacob found a modicum of relief as his bottom could at least make contact with the spreader device and rest against the mattress. The pressure made him acutely aware of his developing rash, but once the pain had passed, also brought relief. He experimented with his limited mobility, attempting to force his legs closer together by squeezing his thighs as tightly as possible. Despite his efforts, the inflexible padding of the jumpsuit resisted any significant movement. With determination, he made a more concerted effort. He awkwardly lifted himself, contorting into a position where he lay on his back, his legs spread wide but his knees drawn up towards his chest. This maneuver forced the belt of the device to ride up slightly on his body. Bringing both hands down between his legs, he pressed against the padded spreader, pushing it into himself. He was finally enabled him to make direct contact with the front of his diaper. He rub the padding, and consequently the damp diaper, over his genitals, reveling in the relief it brought. Jacob was still in this compromising and awkward position when a female orderly entered the room. She paused briefly at the doorway, her expression hardening as she took in the scene before her. Jacob, caught in the act of trying to circumvent the jumpsuit's constraints, looked up at her, a mix of embarrassment and pleading in his eyes. The orderly's response was swift and direct. "Jacob!" she called out firmly and rushed over to him, pulling his hands away from the padding. Still holding one of his wrists, she turned him onto his side and spanked his thigh over and over, coming down on him as hard as her swing would allow, “this kind of behavior won't be tolerated.” The blows stung even through the thick material of the jumpsuit. Jacob’s natural impulse to squirm away only resulted in her grip becoming more secure and an increase in her ferocity. “Please stop. I’m sorry,” he begged her. Tears welled in his eyes from the sheer humiliation of the ordeal. When he had been still long enough, and received what to Jacob felt like 100 smacks on this thigh, she calmed down and stopped her barrage against him. “Let’s get you up,” her tone conveying a mix of authority and exasperation. She helped him back into a more standard position, ensuring the jumpsuit remained secure and in place. Without lingering for a response or an explanation, the woman quickly exited the room. Moments later, she returned, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. Perched on the seat of the wheelchair was a much larger spreader, distinctly separate from any jumpsuit. Jacob's initial instinct was to protest, to explain his actions, but as he opened his mouth to speak, the orderly sharply cut him off. "If you start telling me any lies, I’ll stick that pacifier in your mouth,” she threatened, nodding towards the bulb resting on his changing table. Realizing that any attempt to speak his truth would be futile and likely dismissed as a lie, Jacob remained silent. The orderly continued, informing him that he had earned full restraints for bedtime. She then proceeded to fit the new spreader onto him. This device was less forgiving than the previous one, lacking any padding and digging uncomfortably into his legs whenever he made the slightest attempt to close them. With the spreader now securely in place, the orderly instructed Jacob to sit in the wheelchair. He awkwardly maneuvered himself into the chair. He had to slouch order to fit, the spreader forcing his legs open wider than the arms of the chair allowed. Once he was in place, the orderly slipped a pair of soft slippers onto Jacob's feet and wheeled him towards the common room. The door to the common room swung open to reveal the bustling hub of social activity within the psychiatric ward. The room was spacious, painted in soft, neutral colors that radiated a sense of calm. Various tables were scattered throughout, adorned with board games, puzzles, books, and craft materials. In one corner, a television played a gameshow at a low volume. Large windows, secured with bars, lined one wall, allowing natural light to flood in and brighten the space. As they entered, the chatter and activity momentarily paused. Heads turned towards Jacob, none of whom, Jacob noted, were wearing restrictive attire. They all seemed to be in comfortable pajama-like clothes. The orderly made an announcement that captured everyone's attention. "This is Jacob," she announced in a loud, clear voice. "He's having some trouble with self-control, specifically with touching himself. If anyone sees him doing anything inappropriate, please call out immediately." Her words elicited a mix of reactions. Several patients openly snickered. The orderly instructed Jacob to join a table. Due to the cumbersome spreader, he couldn't walk. He looked back at the orderly, hopefully, but she seemed uninterested in offering him any further assistance. She stepped back with her arms crossed and raised an eyebrow, daring Jacob to protest. He didn’t. Jacob slid out of the chair instead and onto his knees, making his way to a crawling position. Even with this his movements were clumsy and slow, the spreader's bulkiness hindering his progress. The other patients, all grappling with their own psychological challenges, found it difficult to restrain their reactions. Open laughter erupted from various corners of the room. A man seated across the room coughed, "Baby," and the absence of immediate staff intervention seemed to embolden the others. They joined in, hurling comments and questions at Jacob with increasing boldness. A young woman asked through fits of laughter, "Is it just your hands, or can you not control your bladder either?" Her question drew more laughter as Jacob, with great effort, pulled himself up onto a chair. The situation escalated when a teen approached Jacob, curiosity piqued by the unusual setup of the jumpsuit and spreaders. "Yeah, are you wearing a diaper under there?" He reached under the spreader, attempting to investigate further. Jacob felt a surge of relief that the second, larger spreader prevented the boy from discovering his diaper, which by now had become uncomfortably sodden, its usual crinkling sound mercifully muted. Undeterred, the boy announced his findings to the room. "Dude, you must have real issues. There’s another blocker to his dick under this one!" His voice carried across the common room, drawing the attention of even more patients. The mocking laughter and comments enveloped Jacob, the center of unwelcome attention in the common room. When he glanced back at the orderly for some semblance of support, she looked pleased. It was evident she had anticipated this reaction, possibly as a deterrent against future attempts to bypass his restraints. As the room began to settle, the orderly approached Jacob. She placed her hand on the back of his neck in a manner that underscored her authority and control over the situation. "Jacob, Anthony asked you a question," she reminded him, indicating the boy who had inquired about the diaper. Her tone was reminiscent of someone teaching basic social skills to a child. The room fell into a hushed silence. Jacob looked at his hands on the table, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. "Yes," he responded quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. The orderly’s grip on his neck tightened slightly. "You should use complete sentences and look at people when you’re speaking to them," she instructed firmly. Jacob reluctantly met Anthony's eyes, which were alight with a mix of curiosity and mockery. As tears began to fall from his own eyes, Anthony's grin widened, reveling in the unfolding scene. With a shaky voice, Jacob managed to articulate the words, "Yes, I’m wearing a diaper." With that the orderly walked away, retreating to a corner of the room as the other patients absorbed the information. “Why do you wear a diaper?” a woman asked, getting up and moving to sit across from Jacob. Everyone was still listening. Jacob turned to her, a hint of resignation in his voice. "I’m incontinent," he admitted simply. “Whoa,” Anthony asked, his tone a mix of incredulity and amazement. “So you, like, shit yourself like a baby?” Jacob turned back to him, the question particularly difficult given the reason he was here but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie, even if lying would ultimately help him get out of the institution. “No! It’s just pee!” Jacob glanced back at the orderly. She was writing something on her clipboard, but seemed willing to let the statement go. His statement elicited a new uproar of laughter, “Ohh,” Anthony mocked, “Just pee. You must feel like a real big boy, then, huh?” And when Jacob didn’t respond, “I asked you a question, moron.” He smacked the table in fron of Jacob to get his attention. “Not right now,” Jacob mumbled. Another boy cut in before Anthony could taunt him further, but it just took Jacob down another unwanted lined of questioning. “Wait, so you like touch yourself in your dirty diaper? That’s so gross.” When Jacob didn’t answer, Anthony stepped in again, mimicking the orderlies action of gripping the back of his neck and leaning in close, “You better answer him, little boy, or I’ll yell out you’re trying to sneak your hands into your jumpsuit.” Jacob continued looking down at his hands, there plain as day on the table, unmoving. Plus, the top was too tight to even attempt it. But he had a feeling Anthony’s accusations would carry the day. “No,” he insisted, “this is all a misunderstanding.” A small group who hadn’t converged on Jacob called out from the end of the room that it was Anthony’s turn in whatever game they were playing. He dropped his interest in Jacob and walked away, but not before muttering “loser” under his breath. Eventually, the rest of the patients also lost interest in Jacob's predicament and returned to their previous activities. Jacob remained at the table, his hands deliberately placed on the surface, a silent compliance with the rules set for him. He picked up a book, ostensibly immersing himself in its pages. However, after about twenty minutes, he realized with a start that he had been holding it upside down. He had been mechanically flipping through the pages, his mind elsewhere, not truly absorbing the content. Casting a quick glance around, Jacob was relieved to find that no one seemed to have noticed his error. Discreetly, he righted the book, maintaining the pretense of reading to avoid drawing any further attention. It was a small mercy that Jacob was pretty much left alone for the rest of the night. Someone brought him a tray of food which he ate in silence, and he was wheeled back to room without being asked to make another spectacle of himself crawling across the floor. As Kristen, the orderly whose name Jacob glimpsed sewn into the fabric of her scrubs, was assisting him again. She freed Jacob from his constraints, leaving him just his diaper to brush his teeth. Jacob savored the return of his ability to close his legs, even allowing himself the small comfort of crossing his ankles as he stood at the sink. His bottom now itched from his rash and he desperately wanted to reach back and find relief from scratching his bare skin, but he refrained, mindful of the orderly's watchful presence. Since the incident in the common room where Jacob had to publicly acknowledge his diapered condition, Kristen hadn't spoken to him. Jacob wondered if addressing her by her first name might shift their interaction, hoping it might foster some semblance of personal connection, a psychological bridge that could alter their current patient-caretaker dynamic. "Kristen," Jacob tentatively attempted to assert some autonomy, "I can change my own diaper. I've been doing it for like a decade now." His attempt to engage Kristen on a more personal level did momentarily halt her actions, but not in the way he had hoped. Turning sharply, she reached for the pacifier on the table. "I can see you’re going to need this," she remarked coolly, pushing the pacifier into his mouth and securing it firmly behind his head. Her actions were swift and practiced, effectively silencing any further attempts at conversation from Jacob. "Also, it’s Miss Kirsten to you. While in our care, you need to show us respect. Use Miss, Mr., or Doctor." she added, tightening the pacifier. Her tone was stern, leaving no room for negotiation or familiarity. "You’ll find we don’t have any tolerance for lies, Jacob." With the pacifier in place, Jacob was rendered mute, his words and attempts at establishing a connection abruptly cut off. The clear message was patients like Jacob were expected to adhere to the established protocols without question or objection. Kristen gestured for Jacob to climb onto the changing table. He complied, his mind acutely aware of the potential visibility from the outside through the window. It was dark now, but he knew that wouldn't obscure the view from outside. She untapped the diaper, folding it down, and couldn’t stifle her laugh when she revealed his tiny dick. "Well, your file says there's no medical cause to your incontinence, but maybe its as simple as your tiny baby pee pee just refusing to grow up," she laughed openly now, enjoying her joke. As she laughed, Jacob reacted involuntarily to the exposure to air, resulting in a sudden squirt of urine. "Whoops," Kristen exclaimed, quickly covering him with the damp diaper again. "I can see I’m going to have to be fast if I want to avoid getting peed on." She briskly reopened the diaper and proceeded with the changing process. Kristen efficiently wiped him down, applied cream to the rash along his bottom — a rash he felt a desperate urge to soothe himself — and liberally sprinkled him with powder. Her movements were quick and methodical as she switched out his dirty diaper for a clean one and brought it up between his legs, securing it tightly. The bed, which had been prepared during his time in the common room was turned down, and a single belt with three restraints lay across the middle. She didn’t wait for him to lay down, opting instead to push his body into position. Kristen secured the restraints, pulling straps tight around his waist and wrists, ensuring that he was snugly and securely restrained. "There," she said, giving the final strap a firm tug, "that should keep you from rubbing that little pee pee and making any extra messes in your diaper." Her words dripped with disdain. Once he was secured, she stared down at him for what to Jacob felt like at least ten minutes, just smirking. Finally, she reach down and grabbed directly at the crotch of his diaper, managing to grip his entire penis in the palm of her hand. Jacob groaned from behind his pacifier and pulled against his restraints but was powerless to stop her. She stared straight at him the entire time she squeezed as Jacob struggled to avoid meeting her gaze. Finally she relented. Kristen patted the front of Jacob’s diaper, a little too hard, almost smacking his dick through the padding. “Sweet dreams, baby dick.” She pulled the covers over his body and headed out of the room, stopping before she flicked off the lights. “Oh and if you shit yourself, don’t bother attempting to get our attention. We’re under strict orders to make you sit in it until morning.” She turned off the light and shut his door. In the darkness, Jacob silently sobbed, wondering when if this hell would really end or if this was his new reality. Part 5: In the morning, Jacob awoke to find Dr. Simmons sitting on his bed, his covers pulled off of him as her fingers lightly pressed against the diaper to gauge its condition. "Good morning, Jacob. It seems your diaper is quite saturated," she observed dryly. She then shifted the topic to his behavior from the previous day. "I need to talk to you about what happened yesterday," Dr. Simmons said, her tone turning more serious. "Your behavior was not acceptable. I was disappointed to learn that after setting you free from your restraints you acted in a way which warranted their reapplication." Her words were direct, leaving no room for ambiguity about her disapproval. Jacob gave her a blank look as he struggled to open his eyes, finding it difficult given his inability to wipe the sleep from them. The doctor retreated for a moment and returned with a warm washcloth. "Let's go over your behavior," she stated as she gently washed his face. The warmth of the cloth against his eyes was refreshing, but he wished she would release his pacifier and wash away the dried drool that had formed beneath it. "First, you attempted to manipulate your restraints with the intention to touch yourself inappropriately. You’ll find we have little tolerance for either. Your restraints are here to keep you safe, Jacob." She casually ran her finger over the restraint belt. "Then, your interaction with other patients was less than ideal. You must understand, Jacob, openness and honesty are key to overcoming delusions. Dodging questions about your incontinence only complicates your treatment and could deepen your delusion. And pretending to read? Honestly. Do you not know how? Or were you just being antisocial?" Someone had seen his mishap with the book orientation. Jacob wondered if there was anything that didn’t make it back to Dr. Simmons. Dr. Simmons' expression grew stern as she continued. "And the disrespect shown to Miss Kristen was unacceptable." Jacob struggled with her portrayal of the previous day's events, feeling a sense of injustice at her summary but with his pacifier firmly in place, there was little he could do to protest. Dr. Simmons shifted gears, her tone becoming more clinical as she stood and straighted her coat. "In light of these issues, I need to conduct further assessments to refine your treatment plan," she stated. “I want to see what how extreme your comorbid symptoms are. We will do the first assessment now, before breakfast so we only need to clean you up once" She gestured towards a large apparatus in the room, resembling an adult-sized baby bouncer. "We'll begin with this." Jacob's apprehension grew as he took in the sight of the contraption and tried to understand the implication of her words. Dr. Simmons methodically unbuckled the restraints around Jacob's hands and waist, each released strap bringing a mix of relief and growing apprehension. She carefully helped him into a sitting position, cradling him as she did until he was in more command of his body. Once he was sitting on his own strength, Dr. Simmons removed the pacifier that had been in Jacob's mouth for an extended period. The absence of the pacifier immediately ignited a dull ache in his jaw, both relief and exhaustion. Turning to the bedside table, she picked up a pixie cup containing a partially dissolved blue pill in water. This will help relax you," she informed Jacob as she handed him the cup. Jacob hesitated, wary of taking an unknown medication but feeling compelled by the circumstances. He reluctantly swallowed the pill. Dr. Simmons directed him to open his mouth and peered inside quickly, checking to confirm he hadn’t cheeked it, and then, without warning, she replaced the pacifier. His fleeting respite cut short; Jacob was once again silenced, coerced into sucking on the large bulb. Before placing him in the apparatus, Dr. Simmons revealed a pair of plastic pants she had brought in with her that morning. "I brought these incase you had pooped yourself,” she explained matter of factly, “but given the state of your diaper, I think they may still be warranted to prevent leaks.” She shook out the pants, which emitted a loud crinkling sound. "Step in," she instructed, holding them out and low to the ground. Jacob placed a hand on her shoulder to steady himself as he stood into the pants one leg at a time. Dr. Simmons pulled them up over his diaper, ensuring they fit snugly around his waist and thighs. The sensation of the plastic pants was unfamiliar to Jacob — tight and restrictive. “Oh,” she remarked, getting a good look at his thigh from this position. “I see Miss Kristen did not hold back with you.” A section of his outer thigh was a variety of shades of black and grey. “Hopefully, you learned your lesson.” She pulled out of the leg gathers around his leg and snapped it back so it pinged painfully into his bruised leg. “But somehow, I doubt it.” Dr. Simmons pointed Jacob toward the oversized baby bouncer. The seat, crafted from a sturdy yet flexible cloth, dangled from robust metal chains. Two leg holes gaped expectantly, waiting for Jacob. Dr. Simmons used a crank on the side to pull the cloth up through Jacob’s legs, until the seat snugly encased him as if it was yet another layer of diaper. But she didn’t stop there. She slowly lifted Jacob until his feet lost contact with the ground. In a reflex, he clutched at the chains, his heart racing with the fear of tipping over. He sucked against the pacifier rapidly out of reflex and need for oxygen. When she stopped cranking, his weight stretched at the flexible cloth until he could just feel the ground beneath the tips of his toes. But the contact only resulted in a gentle bounce, sending him oscillating in the air. This happened again and again, the rustling of his plastic pants the only sound in the room. Gradually, he got hold of the situation, using his arms to steady his body and stop the bouncing. Dr. Simmons tsked and with a steady hand, pried his fingers from the chains, signaling that he should let go. Reluctantly, he released his grip, and the bouncing returned as he struggled to steady himself. Jacob, now fully suspended and bouncing rhythmically, felt a growing awareness that in the confines of his diaper, his dick had hardened and was growing ever harder with each passing moment. It was more intense than any hard-on he’d ever had in his life, even rising to the point of being painful. He had never wanted to reach down and touch himself more. As Jacob bounced steadily and rhythmically in the apparatus, Dr. Simmons settled herself on the bed, her gaze fixed on him with clinical scrutiny. "Jacob," she called out, snapping her fingers to capture his attention. "Focus. This is an impulse control test. All you have to do avoid touching yourself or having any sexual release for fifteen minutes." She then set a timer on her phone, marking the start of the test. Jacob had heard unsettling tales about psychiatric institutions, but nothing had prepared him for this kind of treatment. The absurdity of his situation was overwhelming – bouncing in a diaper, pacifier in mouth, the loud crinkling of the plastic pants with each movement. They were increasingly treating him like a baby. He knew Dr. Martin would relish in knowing her involuntary hold had reduced him to this. She had always told his parents that they should treat him like a baby until he starts “at least trying to grow up.” Despite the absurdity of the test, Jacob was determined to pass. He did not understand why, in this environment, when his life depended on not being aroused, he simultaneously felt more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. He’d never wanted to rub his little nub more. Thankfully, he thought, the plastic pants, while noisy, did in fact offer their promised blessing – they created a barrier that reduced the direct friction of the cloth seat against him. The moist diaper also adhered closely to his skin, limiting movement and sensation. He focused intently on these physical barriers. Using them to suppress his arousal. Time ticked by slowly, each bounce driving him closer and closer to losing it. Jacob responded in turn, concentrating on the absence of sensations trying to distance himself from any physical response. As Jacob continued to bounce rhythmically, he grappled with the paradoxical dilemma of his situation. The minimal level of sensation from the damp diaper and the plastic pants was enough to maintain his erection, but not enough to provide any release. It was ideal for passing his test but he wanted to get off. He felt one squeeze of his hand and he could achieve that maximal pleasure. This continuous, low-grade stimulation, Jacob was certain, should be classified as a form of torture. Jacob’s erection seemed to grow more in response to the tease, possibly reaching a length he hadn't experienced before. The way he felt himself straining, he thought it could even be surpassing 2”. He tried to gauge how much time had passed, hoping he was at least halfway through the fifteen-minute ordeal. "Seven minutes, maybe more?" he thought. The constant bouncing, the reflex sucking of the pacifier filling his mouth, the sound of the crinkling plastic pants, the feeling of the diaper snuggling encapsulating his hard penis, rubbing gently. "No. I can make it," he reassured himself, shaking himself out of his stupor and clinging to the hope of enduring the test. Yet … What would happen once the fifteen minutes were up? Would his erection subside on its own, or would he be left in this state of unfulfilled arousal? The thought of Dr. Simmons denying him the opportunity to relieve himself seemed likely, given the strict control she maintained. He noticed that he had moved his hands to the top of the cloth and was tugging at it now, increasing the effects from the bouncing. He could feel the pressure building in his balls. He looked over at the doctor, but she didn’t make any remark about his actions. Jacob moved his hands lower and then back up again in a fight against his own will. He had to be close. What would she do if he made it the full 15 minutes but then gave in? Would he still pass? Dr. Simmons picked up her phone. Was it over? Had he made it? He couldn’t see the screen. “Three minutes, Jacob.” Three minutes to go? He could do three more minutes. “12 minutes left,” she added with a smile, seeming to read his thoughts. That couldn’t be right! It felt like an eternity had passed. He couldn’t endure this. All at once, he reached down and grabbed hold of the crotch of his swing, desperate to feel his hand through the cloth, the plastic, and the diaper. He didn’t care anymore. He rocked back and forth, his breath growing ragged and the sucking of his pacifier intensifying. He rubbed and pressed aggressively until he felt it, the sweet release. Jacob slumped into the bouncer as his cum slipped out of him, making his diaper slick. His dick, finally receding, saturated in his goo. He knew he had failed, but the relief had been the most intense he had ever felt. He continued to suckle on his pacifier, momentarily unconcerned about anything but his pleasure. Dr. Simmons glanced at her phone, then looked up at Jacob with a clinical, almost detached expression. "Three minutes and twenty seconds," she announced as she tucked her phone away. "That's quite a rapid failure for this test." Jacob remained silent, the pacifier still in his mouth rendering him unable to respond anyway. She methodically lowered the swing, extending her hand to assist Jacob in stabilizing himself as he dismounted. She then guided him to a nearby wheelchair, first pulling a sweatshirt over his head but pointedly leaving him without pants. Once he was seated, she secured his wrists in the wheelchair. "We'll clean you up after breakfast," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Until then, you can reflect on whether this behavior — climaxing in your diaper — is something you wish to persist with" He had never engaged in such behavior in front of someone else, yet he had just done so, at a time when self-restraint was critical. The realization prompted a flood of questions and doubts in his mind. Why had he acted this way? Was his perception of control merely an illusion? Maybe he was delusional. If he saw the world one way and everyone else another, who was he to argue? As Dr. Simmons wheeled Jacob into the common area for breakfast. The other patients, who seemed to be already finished and cleaning up before heading back to their rooms, turned to see who was arriving so late. There was immediate laughter as they caught sight of Jacob's diaper. Feeling the weight of their stares and jeers, Jacob's face flushed with embarrassment. “No way, he wet himself!” Anthony, who had taunted him the night before called out. “That is so gross,” a teen he didn’t remember seeing the night before added. “Why is he sucking on a pacifier?” He heard several whispers to the people. He wished he could disappear, to escape the humiliating spectacle he had become. Dr. Simmons leaned down to his ear, “Transparency, Jacob, there is no escaping reality.” She wheeled Jacob to where an orderly was waiting and then left him in his care. The orderly, a stern-faced man, took in his state and elected to remove the pacifier but not the restraints. Instead, he shovelled dry pancakes into Jacob’s mouth, barely giving Jacob time to chew before forcing a new bite into his face, clearly eager to finish this task. When he was done, the orderly left the table without ceremony and return with a baby bottle filled with water. Jacob's eyes widened in disbelief that he could even now be made to feel more infantile than he already did. He shook his head and tried to back away from nipple. “If I try to pour water into your mouth from a cup, it will just spill everywhere,” the orderly insisted. When Jacob still didn’t part his lips, the man tried a different tact. “Jacob, if you could keep your hands off your little pee pee you’d be able to feed yourself. Now open up before I change your diaper in front of the whole group.” His voice was low, using the threat of exposure to coerce Jacob’s cooperation. It worked. Jacob looked around to see that indeed, many of the other patients were lingering, watching openly, even though it was clear their breakfast had concluded. Reluctantly, Jacob parted his lips and accepted the nipple of the baby bottle. He sucked on it quickly, eager to finish the task and end the embarrassing ordeal. As Jacob drank from the baby bottle, he heard the renewed snickering from those around him, and his emotions surged to the surface. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks, a raw display of his vulnerability and distress. The orderly, observing Jacob's tears, showed a flicker of a softer expression amidst his otherwise stern demeanor. He continued to hold the bottle for Jacob, but with his free hand, he gave a mockingly gentle pat on the plastic pants covering Jacob's diaper. "Did you do a poopie in there, is that why you’re crying?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension and feigned sympathy. Feeling cornered and humiliated, Jacob shook his head in denial while he kept drinking, focusing on finishing the water as fast as he could. The orderly eyed him skeptically, his expression one of doubt. "Like you would know if you did. But I don’t smell anything. Maybe it is just pee pee," he mused, almost to himself. "At any rate, I’ll change your diaper in a minute." After finishing his bottle, Jacob was ushered back to his room where the orderly combed through his hair and gave him a cursory brushing of his teeth. The routine was direct and no-nonsense as he released Jacob, not even waiting for him to stand but just scooping him and placing him on the changing table. The diaper change was fast. Jacob felt like a car getting its tire changed at the race track as he ripped one diaper off and slid another under him in a single movement. The usual care with wiping and applying rash cream was skipped, a fact that made Jacob internally wince. Diaper secured, the orderly presented Jacob with a choice. "I can put you in the spreader suit or I can restrain your hands just enough to keep you from rubbing your diaper area. Your choice." Jacob contemplated his options briefly before deciding on the hand restraints. It seemed a more manageable inconvenience. The orderly tossed him some sweatpants, similar to what other patients wore, and allowed Jacob to dress himself. Bottle aside, he was beginning to like this guy. He then fitted Jacob with a restraint collar, attaching leather straps around his wrists. The cuffs locked in place with soft clicks. It was awkward to have his hands dangling in mid air, pulling on his neck, but he quickly realized he could mitigate this by folding his hands and resting them against his stomach. It probably looked a little weird but was at least comfortable. "All set. Let’s go," he announced, leaving Jacob to follow him out of the room. They headed back to what Jacob recognized as Dr. Simmons' office. "Take a seat on the couch," the orderly directed, gesturing to the furniture. Jacob settled onto the couch. The diaper which had felt so thick less than 24 hours ago now felt freeing in comparison to the spreader suit. Dry, for once, it crinkled about as loud as the plastic pants had whenever he shifted in his seat, but he was feeling much better about himself in this moment than he had only an hour ago. It was amazing what a difference pants could make. The orderly lingered by the doorway, clearly unwilling to leave Jacob unattended but wanting to get on with his day. Jacob had ample opportunity to observe Dr. Simmons' office the previous day, yet now he viewed it with a fresh perspective, his mind less preoccupied by his physical discomfort. The walls were painted in calming shades of pale blue, each hue selected for its soothing effect. The couch, where he now sat, was generously sized, capable of accommodating someone much taller than himself. Jacob leaned over to grab one of the soft throw pillows scattered on the couch, drawing it close to his chest for a sense of security. Dr. Simmons entered the room just as Jacob had wrapped his arms around the pillow. "Now, now," she said sternly. "Let's put that back, Jacob." She didn't wait for him to comply but instead took the pillow from his grasp, setting it aside. "I'm surprised to see you so eager already," she remarked, her voice laced with a hint of mockery. "Stand up, let's assess the damage." Jacob, still uncertain of her intentions, complied. As he stood, it dawned on him that the pillow had been touching his diaper. “I wasn’t …” he started but then stopped when he remembered his exchange with the orderly the night before. Protests would get him in deeper trouble. Dr. Simmons, with an unnerving sense of purpose, pulled at the front of his sweatpants and the diaper beneath. She peered inside, tugging harder at the garments to stretch them out to their max. "Seems like you haven't gratified yourself, but I can’t see deep enough to tell if you have a little hard-on in there.” She probed the front of his diaper, causing the material to rustle loudly under her touch. "I can’t seem to find it," she mused and pulled her hand out from his sweatpants. She grasped his restraint collar tightly, holding him in place. “Just to be sure,” she drew her other hand back and slammed her palm into Jacob's groin. Jacob instinctively tryied to double over, but her grip was unyielding. She struck him repeatedly, each blow deliberate and measured. After the final hit, Dr. Simmons released her hold, and Jacob collapsed onto the couch, overwhelmed by the pain and shock. His arms, restricted by the restraints, hung limply by his side, offering no relief or comfort. "There," Dr. Simmons said coldly, a twisted satisfaction in her voice. “Now I’m satisfied you won’t be popping any more erections on me in this session.” Dr. Simmons, with a practiced air of professionalism, retrieved a laptop from her desk and positioned it on a small table in front of Jacob. "This assessment will be a bit different, Jacob," she said, her voice calm yet firm as she pulled a chair near them. "I’m going to do a verbal IQ test. I'll ask you a series of questions, and I'd like you to answer them to the best of your ability. Remember, this is just to gauge where you are cognitively. You can’t fail this test." She opened a program on the laptop, which displayed a list of questions, each designed to test Jacob's reasoning, comprehension, and problem-solving skills. The first question seemed straightforward enough, asking Jacob to complete a numerical sequence. But the numbers were arranged in a complex pattern. 15 30 90 70 10 30 55 __ Jacob furrowed his brow, trying to discern the pattern. "Um, is it... 105?" he guessed. Dr. Simmons offered no response, typing something into the laptop, and moved to the next question. Another string of numbers with no clear completion. As the test wore on, Jacob grew more frustrated with his inability to determine the patterns. “This is too hard!” Dr. Simmons smiled softly at him. “OK Jacob, let’s switch to a different test.” Dr. Simmons leaned forward, her expression unreadable. "Let’s move on to a new test," she began, her voice measured. "Envision, Jacob, an urban park's mosaic - a cacophony near traffic, a sylvan whisper, sun-drenched expanse, shadowed benches, a fragmented cityscape knoll. You're to align a quintet of fête elements: narrative circles, yogic oscillations, aural spectrums from sotto voce to folk vibrance, a mutable artisan bazaar, ambulatory ecological symposia. Amidst diurnal shifts, auditory needs, spatial whimsy, and audience caprice, overlay the park’s rhythmic pulse. How would you, in this tapestry of variables, ephemeral yet harmonious, align each for the tableau?" As Jacob listened, he felt a growing sense of confusion. The details were overwhelming, making it difficult to grasp the actual question. "I... I'm not sure what you're asking," he admitted, feeling a knot of frustration in his stomach. “What’s a knoll?” Dr. Simmons just moved on to the next question. Paying closer attention this time, Jacob was able to form a response he thought was at least on topic. With each subsequent question, Dr. Simmons maintained her clinical detachment, giving nothing away in her expression or tone. His answers were often guesses, and he frequently had to admit his inability to answer. When Dr. Simmons indicated it was time for the next test, Jacob felt mentally exhausted and doubting his own intelligence. Dr. Simmons pulled out a stack of cards. “Maybe this will be more to your speed.” She showed him the card. "Tell me what this is, Jacob," she instructed. The image was clear as day. Jacob couldn’t tell if he was annoyed by being asked to answer such a simple question or relieved to know he got one right. “A chair,” he said confidently. Dr. Simmons flipped card after card, Jacob was able to easily identify them but he noticed they were getting gradually more abstract. “England?” he respond to one. Others were sketches contorted like a Piccasso. “A cat?” By the end, he was just holding his head in his hands, barely looking and muttering, “I don’t know,” over and over. When the test was done, Dr. Simmons put away all the materials. “Well, that was certainly illuminating.” She stood in front of him and grabbed him by the collar until he was in a standing position. She reacher her hand down into his sweats again, feeling the weight of his diaper. “Soaked. You’ll need a change.” She dragged him behind her, keeping her hand on his collar. Back on the changing table, Jacob waited passively for his diaper change. When she peeled away the wet diaper and exposed his rash to the air, Jacob's hands twitched involuntarily towards his waist, but the restraints held them back, leaving him exposed with his knees splayed out. As Dr. Simmons applied rash cream, her touch was undeniably personal. She rubbed the cream over the head of his penis and he could feel himself growing hard. Jacob’s hands curled into fists, straining against the short cord, a physical manifestation of his discomfort and powerlessness. “Aww. Sometimes I forget you don’t really grow,” she remarked as continue to rub. When he was fully hard, she stopped, lifting his legs up and continue to apply the rash cream. Jacob felt her finger running over his asshole and then pushing inside him. The intrusion was startling, and Jacob’s whole body tensed. His hands jerked reflexively, but the restraints allowed for no meaningful movement, no way to shield himself or react to this invasive act. Finally, she secured the new diaper around him, the tapes fastening with a definitive sound that marked the completion of the humiliating procedure. Jacob lay there, freshly diapered, his hands still awkwardly restrained above him, a poignant symbol of his vulnerable and infantilized state. Dr. Simmons assisted him into his sweatpants, but the ritual had already underscored his complete dependence and the stark power imbalance in the room. After Dr. Simmons completed the changing, she glanced at her watch, a look of mild frustration crossing her face. "Group starts in 30 minutes. I have other matters to attend to, Jacob, but I can't leave you unsupervised," she said. She pressed a call button, and a few moments later, the door opened to reveal Miss Kristen. Jacob instinctively moved away, climbing off the table. Her entrance was marked by a smirk, her eyes lighting up with a hint of malice at the sight of Jacob in his current state. "Ah, babysitting duty again," Miss Kristen remarked sarcastically as Dr. Simmons quickly briefed her on the situation. "Don't worry, Doc, I'll make sure our little boy here doesn't get into any trouble." Once Dr. Simmons left, Miss Kristen turned her attention to Jacob. "I heard you were naughty today." She closed the gap to him and gripped his diaper. “Did you cum in your wet diaper? Could you not keep your hands off yourself?” Jacob looked away, unanswering. She grabbed his face, pulling it to look directly at her. “What did I tell you last night about answering people’s question?” Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but she put a finger over it, silencing him. Instead, she pulled his pacifier out of her pocked. “I grabbed this just in case. Maybe some quiet time will help you be a little more polite in your responses going forward.” She pushed the pacifier into his mouth. It was becoming a familiar sensation for Jacob. His tongue pressed on the bulb and sucked against it as she secured the straps behind his head. Miss Kristen maintained a firm grip on the back of Jacob's neck, assertively leading him out of his room. She guided him on an extensive walk through the facility's corridors, confidently steering him past various patient rooms and therapy areas. Jacob, hindered by the restraints connecting his hands to his collar and the pacifier in his mouth, shuffled along, the sound of his diaper rustling with each awkward step. The other patients, now accustomed to his predicament, barely glanced up as he passed, their indifference offering no solace. As they approached the group therapy room, Jacob was hit by a cramp in his intestines which answered the sensation by rumbling ominously. He tried to squirm out of Miss Kristen’s grasp and express his discomfort through muffled, desperate sounds. He widened his eyes with urgency, but his attempts to communicate were lost in translation. Miss Kristen looked at him with feigned concern. "Did you make a poopy?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sympathy. Without waiting for any further attempt at communication, she reached behind him, patting the back of his diaper intrusively. Finding no lumps, she peered inside the waistband. "Do know the story of the boy who cried wolf?" she warned. Feeling belittled and misunderstood, Jacob writhed uncomfortably as Miss Kristen ushered him into the therapy room. The space was already occupied by several other patients, some of whom he recognized from the previous night. Their reactions ranged from surprise to disdain. "Why's he in here?" one of them asked, their tone laced with disgust. "Dr. Simmons believes Jacob needs to understand his current functioning level, so she's starting him here," Miss Kristen explained with a patronizing pat on Jacob's diapered back. "But don't worry, he'll be moved to a more appropriate group tomorrow." Her words, meant to be reassuring to the others, only served to deepen Jacob's humiliation. Part 6 Jacob, his steps hesitant and shackled by fear more than by the restraints that bound his hands, was ushered by Miss Kristen's imperious grip towards an unoccupied chair amidst the circle. As he attempted the awkward maneuver of sitting with his arms restrained assistance, the rustling echo of his diaper resonated in the hollow space. The patients around him continued to stare with expressions that ranged from the morbidly curious to the overtly disdainful. The room, a pallid space with walls that seemed to absorb rather than reflect light, fell into a heavier silence as the last of the patients found their places. It was in this silence that Jacob's stomach chose to voice its own discomfort, a deep, guttural rumble that filled the room with an almost tangible presence. This involuntary betrayal elicited a smattering of snickers and contorted faces of disgust from his peers. Jacob, his cheeks burning with a mix of shame and suppressed anger kept his eyes cast to the floor, not wanting to see the looks on his peers' faces. The atmosphere shifted as the door opened once more, admitting Dr. Simmons into the room. As she moved to take her position in the circle, her eyes fleetingly met Jacob's, unreadable and leaving Jacob more unsettled. Miss Kristen, having completed her task of delivering Jacob, offered him a final, patronizing squeeze on the back of his neck. His stomach, as if in defiance of his desperate attempts at control, continued its audible protest. All the while, Jacob, his mouth silenced by the infantile pacifier, could only suckle on it in a rhythmic, mechanical motion as he tried to work through the periodic shots of pain from his intestines. Dr. Simmons cleared her throat, signaling the commencement of the session. "Today, we have a new addition to our group – Jacob," she announced, her hand gesturing towards him with a clinical detachment. "Jacob's presence here is an exercise to help him understand his current functioning level in comparison to others." Her voice, devoid of warmth yet not unkind, echoed in the high-ceilinged room, a space amplified by its sparse arrangement and hard surfaces, making her words all the more poignant and inescapable. "To help Jacob, I’d like each of you to briefly share three things: what's the highest grade or degree you've completed, when was the last time you remember wetting or pooping yourself, and have you ever been involved in any sexual activities that you think were wrong or inappropriate. Let’s start with you, Alex." Alex, a man in his mid-30s with a demeanor that oscillated between resignation and defiance, spoke without lifting his eyes from Dr. Simmons. "I have a Master's in Engineering," he began, his voice gruff but carrying a faint echo of past pride. "As for an accident, I can't really recall ever wetting myself. Maybe during potty training. And fuck, no, I never pooped my pants. I’m also not the type of crazy that goes around grabbing my dick in public or humping strange women." He shot a look at Jacob, eying him head to toe in the assumption that Jacob was exactly that type of crazy. Following him, a young woman, her voice tinged with a timidity that suggested a desire to disappear and go unheard, shared her narrative. "I just graduated high school last year," she said giving a brittle laugh. "I probably had accidents like that when I was a toddler? I wouldn’t do anything inappropriate." Her voice cracked and she blushed at the mere thought of saying the word ‘sex.’ Each patient round the room went on recounting their academic achievements and personal histories. The stories varied, with many boasting college degrees but a few holding only a simple high school diploma. The common thread emerged – a unanimous denial of recent accidents or inappropriate sexual behavior. Meanwhile, Jacob, absorbed in his own physical discomfort, was only half listening to the others’ stories. He felt no embarrassment about his education, actually finding solace in the fact that others also hadn’t pursued college. He was aware of the exaggerations in Dr. Simmons' portrayal of his continence and found her assertions about his lack of sexual control to be unjust and misleading. Even if the group's words had the potential to embarrass him, Jacob was far more preoccupied with the events inside his body, which posed a much greater risk of humiliation. His hands, hindered by the restraints, tugged futilely as he sought to soothe the cramps that wracked his abdomen. But as the urgency of his body's needs grew, the location of its inevitable release decreased in relevance until it was a trivial concern in the face of his overwhelming discomfort. Dr. Simmons, her attention undivided, absorbed each patient's testimony, seemingly oblivious to Jacob's increasing distress. Her nods were measured, her expression unreadable. The air in the room seemed to congeal as Jacob’s turn approached. Jacob felt the collective gaze of the group shift towards him and wondered for a moment if Dr. Simmons expected him to try to speak through the pacifier. Instead, she stood, directing the room's attention back to her. "As you can see, Jacob has lost the privilege of talking," Dr. Simmons stated, her tone almost pedagogical in its clarity. The pacifier in Jacob's mouth became a focal point in the room as Jacob. Just as the eyes of the room settled upon him, Jacob could not hold back any longer and inadvertently let a fart slip. The sound, despite being muted somewhat by his diaper, sparked a wave of juvenile giggling among the patients, a momentary lapse into childishness even from those with the most advanced degrees. Clearing her throat to restore order, Dr. Simmons continued her exposition, "If Jacob could talk right now, he’d tell us several lies. First, he’d tell you he has a high school diploma.” Jacob’s eyes widened in disbelief. He did possess a diploma, a fact as real to him as the restraints that bound him. “Well,” Dr. Simmons pressed on, now pacing around the circle with the poise of a predator circling its prey. She paused behind Jacob, her hands descending onto his shoulders with a weight that felt like the burden of judgment. “I can tell you that after a careful test this morning, I discovered Jacob’s IQ makes it highly unlikely that he graduated high school. In fact, he’s more than a standard deviation below all of you. So, I made a phone call.” Jacob, his body tensing under her touch, could only look up in a mix of confusion and dawning fear. His cramps, momentarily forgotten, were replaced by a gnawing sense of betrayal. “It turns out that Jacob has a special education diploma, not a real high school diploma. It’s essentially a participation trophy." The room, previously alight with immature laughter, shifted into a hushed pity and condescension as the group realized Jacob must have harbored his delusions for a long time. Jacob, his mind racing to reconcile Dr. Simmons's words with his own fragmented memories, felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. The pacifier in his mouth, once a mere tool to punish him for failing to acknowledge what they called reality, now seemed a fitting emblem of his silenced and discredited existence. The revelations, each more damning than the last, fell from Dr. Simmons's lips with a clinical dispassion that lent them a veneer of irrefutable truth. "Jacob would also tell you he doesn’t engage in sexually inappropriate behavior," she continued. "And yet, he grew hard during a doctor’s exam, masturbated in a poopy diaper in front of his intake orderlies and then again in front of me this morning albeit the diaper was only wet this time." She smiled at her own joke and the room smiled with her. Dr. Simmons let this comment hang in the air for a moment and then shifted her grasp to Jacob's restraint collar. With a sharp, upward jerk, she compelled him to his feet. The suddenness of her action startled Jacob, causing another involuntary release of gas. To his horror, this time something more than air escaped him, the slimy sensation unmistakable against his skin, trapped within the confines of his diaper. "Yesterday, he even managed to attempt escaping his restraints and would have succeeded if Kristen hadn’t caught him in the act. That is just his behavior in the last 24 hours." Her words sculpted an image of Jacob that was counter to everything he thought he was, someone who had lived normal everyday life just with thin diapers to protect from his simple urinary incontinence. That was a life that now felt as distant and unattainable as a dream long faded into the mists of forgotten memory. Dr. Simmons yanked him by the collar, dragging him into the center of the circle. As he stumbled forward, he lost control again. More sludge slipping out of him before he managed to clamp his asshole closed. A faint odor was now permeating the air. It was mild enough to be mistaken for mere gas, but Jacob knew he would not be able to hide what was happening much longer. "Finally, he’d insist that pooping his diaper doesn’t make him incontinent. But Jacob, as you’ve surely gleaned from everyone else’s accounts, people who are not incontinent do not have accidents in their pants.” With a swift, almost theatrical motion, she whisked down Jacob's sweatpants to his ankles, prompting him to step out of them. “Jacob, I believe delusions are best confronted with radical transparency. Eleanor, please tell me what you observe.” Eleanor, a patient with a sharp, analytical gaze, responded without hesitation. “I see a man in a wet diaper,” she stated, her voice devoid of emotion, as if she were reciting a simple fact. Dr. Simmons, her attention now fully on Jacob, asked in a tone that brooked no evasion, “Jacob, is this correct? Did you wet your diaper?” Jacob, his intestines churning in a silent scream of impending release, could only nod, the pressure building inexorably within him. She walked in tight circles around him. “Jacob, no one else here has wet a diaper since they were a toddler. Will you admit that you are urine incontinent?” Dr. Simmons pressed further. Again, Jacob nodded, a groan muffled by his pacifier, his hands tugging futilely at his restraints. He felt a small, semi-solid mass push through his hole, a harbinger of the inevitable. “Good. Now, do you also admit to being fecal incontinent? This means you can’t control when you poop yourself.” Jacob, this one point of pride the only thing left to cling to, shook his head no, despite the evident skepticism and disappointment mirrored in the faces around him. “I see. So the sounds we’ve been hearing are not because you’re unable to control yourself?” Jacob shook his head no, but the action was accompanied by a doubling-over as the pain from another cramp hit him. “And then I suppose you’re not about to helplessly poop your diaper?” Dr. Simmons's voice, tinged with a hint of finality, seemed to echo ominously in the room, as Jacob faced the looming reality of his situation. Doubled-over, Jacob’s balance faltered, hindered by the restraints. In a desperate attempt to avoid falling forward, he leaned back, but this only caused him to lose his footing completely. He awkwardly collapsed backward, first squatting and falling heavily on his padded bottom, the mess that had already escaped him spreading throughout his diaper. All the while the sound and sensation of his body losing its battle were unmistakable, filling his diaper in a helpless surrender to his physiological needs. Driven by a primal need for relief, Jacob instinctually tried to lift himself onto his knees, a feat made awkward by his inability to use his hands. Collapsing forward onto his elbows, his exposed position left nothing to the imagination as he continued to loudly and uncontrollably fill his diaper, the sensation of his mess looking for space to spread out and the way it coated his diaper and skin was all consuming. The initial semi-solid release soon gave way to more substantial, solid matter. He was unable to stop himself from straining, the physical effort evident as each new wave pressed relentlessly against the confines of his diaper, a distressing reminder of his body's relentless need to expel everything within. As the ordeal finally came to an end and Jacob emptied completely, a new wave of consciousness washed over him - an acute awareness of the audience that had witnessed his degradation. The room, which had been filled with a stunned silence, was abruptly broken by Alex's reaction. “Oh fuck,” Alex exclaimed, the words slicing through the heavy air as he rose to open a window. His voice, tinged with disgust, added insult to Jacob's injury, “That’s rank, dude. You are so pathetic.” “Now, Alex,” Dr. Simmons corrected. “That’s unhelpful.” Jacob, still grounded in his humiliating position, lifted his gaze to Dr. Simmons. He was propped awkwardly on his elbows. In his heart, he clung to a faint hope that her intervention was to shield him from further ridicule, but her next words shattered that illusion. “Be specific, Alex. Why is he pathetic?” Alex, having returned to his seat after his brief foray to the window, replied with a blunt assessment. “He totally just lost control while claiming he’s capable of holding it in.” “I agree, Alex, it is indeed ironic,” Dr. Simmons responded, giving a small mirthful “hmp” to show her amusement. Bending down, Dr. Simmons grasped Jacob's collar once more, hauling him to his feet with a firm tug. Standing unsteadily, Jacob felt the weight of his soiled condition as the diaper drooped and tugged on his hips, some of the mess peeling away from his skin to fall into the seat of the diaper. “Jacob, I ask you again, can you control when you poop yourself?” She posed the question as her other hand delivered a firm smack to the seat of his diaper, ensuring he was acutely aware of his own mess as if he could have forgotten. Jacob shook his head. Tears welled up in his eyes, breaking through his façade of stoicism as he sobbed, his gaze fixed on the floor. It was only when a round of applause erupted from the room that he dared to look up. “Very good, Jacob. That’s a major breakthrough,” Dr. Simmons declared, her hand rubbing his bottom while maintaining a firm grip on his collar. Jacob stood there, torn between feelings of revulsion and a perverse sense of comfort from the contact, his emotions as muddled and complex as the situation he found himself in. The applause, meant to be encouraging, felt more like a mocking chorus, underscoring the depth of his degradation in front of his peers. "Unfortunately, delusions are stubborn," Dr. Simmons went on, her eyes scanning the faces before her. "We have a narrow window during which Jacob is able to see reality, to confront and overcome the root causes of his delusions. They will return quickly, and once they do, we'll have to dismantle them all over again. Our goal is to help Jacob address the underlying reasons for these delusions while he is rooted in reality, in the hopes that they may eventually subside completely." She paused, allowing her words to settle in the minds of her audience. "I would like to hear from all of you about why you think Jacob might be clinging to these delusions," she proposed, turning the session into a group analysis of Jacob's psyche. Alex, still clearly unsettled by the prevailing smell, couldn’t resist voicing his discomfort. "Can't we change his diaper first?" His voice, laced with a mix of complaint and disgust, was emphasized by his pinched nose. "If we stop to change him now, we might lose this critical window of opportunity. Besides, his current state provides a sensory experience that reinforces the reality of his condition, making it harder for him to deny what has happened." At this, Marcus, who had been relatively quiet, chimed in with a renewed sense of urgency, likely motivated by the desire to move the session forward and alleviate the unpleasant odor. "Maybe he’s afraid to admit how little power he has? He struggles with learning, can't control his basic bodily functions. And it’s not like he’s going to make any real money since he’s so … simple. He has no hope." “Good insight, Marcus. Let's explore that further. Money is one aspect, but what else might Jacob feel powerless to attain?” Dr. Simmons encouraged, guiding the discussion deeper. Elaine, a woman Jacob recognized from the previous night, added her perspective. "He’ll never have a romantic partner. A girlfriend, or a boyfriend, if that’s his preference." "That's an interesting angle, Elaine," Dr. Simmons noted with eagerness in her voice. “Jacob, do you desire a romantic relationship? Do you find the idea of having a girlfriend appealing?” Jacob, still tearful and hindered by his pacifier, gave a small, ashamed nod in response. “Let’s explore this. Elaine, why do you think a romantic relationship might be challenging for Jacob?” Dr. Simmons prodded further. "Because women want a man who exudes strength and confidence, someone who can take control. They don’t generally look for someone who... lacks self-sufficiency,” Elaine replied, pulling back her punch at the end. An older woman in the group interjected, “Not all women want that.” Elaine doubled down. “Even so, it's hard to imagine any woman wanting a partner who might lose control of their basic bodily functions without warning.” The older woman appeared to concede the point. Jacob didn’t bother to look up as the conversation took place around him, voices hitting him from all angles. Alex, always ready with a joke, chimed in, “He could hire a professional.” Marcus, quick to link back to his earlier point, added, “And that circles back to the issue of money, which he doesn't have.” Dr. Simmons stepped in now, stopping the conversation from getting away from the previous point. "Let's not move on too quickly. Even if Jacob had the means to hire a professional, it doesn't address the core need he might be seeking in a relationship. Raj, what are your thoughts?" She guided Jacob to face Raj and lifted his head with a simple finger under his chin, a man who appeared slightly older than Jacob. He sighed, a sense of resignation in his expression, knowing the direction Dr. Simmons was steering the conversation. “True intimacy isn't always about sexual connections,” Raj stated dryly as he recited the lesson he was supposed to be learning in his private sessions with the doctor. “Can Jacob experience true intimacy?” Dr. Simmons pressed on, her inquiry sharp and purposeful. Nadia, the older woman who had contributed earlier, spoke up again, prompting Dr. Simmons to turn Jacob towards her. “Intimacy isn't just physical closeness. It's about care and understanding. Even something as personal as being helped with his diapers can be an intimate experience.” “Precisely, Nadia,” Dr. Simmons affirmed. “Jacob could find a form of intimacy through his unique needs. How might that manifest in his life?” Elaine, eager to please the doctor, shifted her pessimistic tone and suggested, “Perhaps a professional caregiver might be the answer. Someone funded by state assistance, possibly. They could provide the necessary care, including changing his diapers, and even offer comfort and affection.” Nadia elaborated on the idea, “Yes, like a maternal figure, someone who offers nurturing and support.” Dr. Simmons, seizing upon the emerging theme, proposed a practical exercise. “Let's visualize this scenario. How would a maternal caregiver interact with someone in Jacob's situation, someone who is still in diapers like a baby?” Her words were leading, painting Jacob as a child rather than a disabled adult. Catching on, Alex’s face morphed from disgust into a sly grin. "Well, she'd probably have him sit right on her lap, wouldn’t she? Just like a little toddler," he said, the words hanging in the air with a mix of sarcasm and revenge. "Let's explore that idea." Dr. Simmons tugged Jacob along with her as she made her way back to her seat. Gently but firmly, she pulled down on Jacob's collar, guiding him until he had awkwardly positioned himself on her lap. Jacob positioned himself sideways, one leg dangled off the side of the chair while the other was bent, resting awkwardly against her. Dr. Simmons, ensuring his stability, wrapped one arm around his waist. Her other hand, seeking a secure grip, move between his legs to cup the side of his diapered bottom. This placement of her hand, coupled with her arm around his waist, helped to hold him firmly in place. Jacob’s head rested against her shoulder. His arms, still bound by the restraints at his collar, were confined close to his body, adding to his sense of restricted movement and vulnerability in this unnervingly intimate position. "There you go, lay your head on my chest. That's it," she instructed, her tone softening slightly as she reached around to support him. Her hand, rubbing in circles around the side of his bottom and occasionally moving between his legs, almost fondling him, held him in place and ensured he would get no relief from the feel of his mess against his skin. Her actions spread the content further. Jacob felt certain his genitals were thouroughly caked. No one else seemed to realize what she was doing, that she was touching him as she would call inappropriately. Jacob supposed they really saw him as not more than a child and such a touch therefore not sexual in nature. Alex continued, “You said he needs to remember his limitations, this caretaker, she could bounce him on her knee so he’s hyper aware of what’s in his diaper and doesn’t slip back into delusion.” "You're right, Alex. It's important for Jacob to remain aware of his limitations," she said, acknowledging the practicality behind the idea. She moved her hand out from between his legs, pulling both legs in together. As she held him more secure on her lap, she bounced Jacob gently on her knees, her toes flexing rapidly to create the necessary motion. This movement caused Jacob to shift uncomfortably, the contents of his diaper moving around and finding new areas of his diaper and skin to saturate with each bounce. Jacob felt the mess might blow out the top at any moment. He supposed it was effective at its expressed goal, to keep him grounded in the reality of his situation. As the bouncing continued, Dr. Simmons prodded the discussion forward. "Now, let's consider the reciprocal nature of intimacy. Jacob will also want to offer intimacy. Given his limitations, how might he express this?" Jacob buried his head into Dr. Simmons' neck. His desire to dissociate from the conversation was palpable, yet the constant motion made it impossible. It was Nadia who ventured the next suggestion, her voice calm yet audacious. "Breastfeeding," she proposed brightly, uttering the words as though they were the most natural thing in the world. Dr. Simmons, recognizing the psychological implications of such an idea, responded, "Very astute, Nadia." At her acknowledgment, Jacob jerked his head up in shock and disbelief. Dr. Simmons quickly addressed Jacob's reaction. "No, Jacob, not here. That would be inappropriate in this setting," she chided him gently, as though reprimanding a child. Jacob fumed silently but could only suck back on his pacifier at the implication that he wanted her to breastfeed him at all, much less at that moment, in public. Shifting from the bouncing motion, Dr. Simmons began to rub Jacob's bottom once more, her hand again between his legs, occasionally stopping this time squeeze and press, pointedly finding his anus, testicles, and tiny shaft. "Before we wrap up for the day, or at least before we conclude with Jacob, let's consider strategies to help Jacob stay connected to reality for as long as possible. Does anyone have suggestions?" Alex was once again eager to dole out a new humiliation. "Jacob should wear a mirror on his chest," he suggested. "That way, every time he looks down, he's confronted with his own reflection." Nadia shook her head. "He’s not delusional about his face. He should document his daily failures in a log that he wears around his neck instead. Then, when he looks down, he'll be faced with reality." Marcus, leaned in, sounding unconvinced. "And what about his other delusions? He needs continual oversight. Assign someone to shadow him, narrating his actions in real-time." Dr. Simmons, listening intently to each proposal, nodded thoughtfully while holding Jacob against her. She could feel his sobbing against her shoulder now and wondered if she were to take his pacifier out if he might actually replace it with his thumb, but it was still too soon. He had much farther to go. "These are interesting ideas," she acknowledged. Turning her attention to Jacob, she spoke softly, giving soft pats to his diaper just over his balls. "You've heard your peers' perceptions and their ideas for your treatment. Now you know how others can see you require external cues to monitor your behavior because you can’t monitor yourself. I agree." Dr. Simmons gently helped Jacob off her lap and stood up. "While I like the idea of 24/7 monitoring, it’s not practical. We will go with Nadia’s suggestion." She then took Jacob by the collar and led him towards the opened window where a metal folding chair sat. As he walked, Jacob felt like he was back in the spreader pants, his legs now forced wide from the hardening mass inside his diaper. From her file cabinet, Dr. Simmons retrieved a pair of large headphones and a pad of paper. Placing the pad on the windowsill, she gestured for Jacob to sit. The cold metal of the chair bit into his thighs, and the mess pressing against him almost ceasing to bother him any more except in how the mass raised him on the seat, forcing him to leaning forward. Dr. Simmons, observing Jacob's discomfort, remarked, "My, this is so thick," as she patted the front of his diaper, feeling the firmness created by the mixture of fluids. She linger for a moment, imagining his little pee pee still readily dripping more into the diaper, helplessly filling it and keep the mess mushy beneath him. Before her reverie became apparent to all she caught hold of herself, shaking herself back to the moment. She grabbed hold of the outside of Jacob’s pacifier ring, bringing his gaze up to meet hers. "Jacob, for the rest of the group, you will document your reality today," she instructed. "You will write about your struggle during the IQ test, how with only the tiniest stimulation to your little pee pee, you came in your wet diaper. You will acknowledge the lie that you have a high school diploma and are continent in anyway. You will not have your diaper changed until I am satisfied that you have truly written down every detail of your reality. Then, as Nadia suggested, you will wear this record around your neck as a constant reminder." She unfolded the headphones. "These will help you focus and avoid distractions while we continue with the group." She placed the headphones over his ears and Jacob was enveloped in silence, cut off even from the ambient sounds of the room. He was left in a soundless world, isolated in his own thoughts. Before him, Dr. Simmons held out a single chubby pencil for him to use to write his log, ensuring his script would appear childish. Throughout the remainder of the session, Jacob didn't look up at the group. Instead, he focused on writing with the thick pencil provided, detailing what Dr. Simmons had termed his 'reality.' He wrote painstakingly, each word a step further away from the life he had known. It had only been 24 hours since he first entered Dr. Martin’s office, but it felt like an eternity. As he wrote, Jacob questioned the very fabric of his reality, unsure if he was emerging from a haze of delusion or descending into one. If you are enjoying this story, know that I have promised that all of this story will make it onto this site and I intend to do that but it will always be behind when I post on patreon. My patreon has other stories and now captions which are all deviations on a similar theme of diapered men being debased, degraded, and humiliated. The majority of the content does not get posted to this site. patreon.com/user?u=7664738

Gently closing the door behind her, she shut her eyes took a deep breath. It was only now just registering what she’d done: in a fit of rage, Stacey had just spanked her roommate as though she were a misbehaving child. She opened her eyes and caught sight of herself in the mirror, still holding the heavy sorority paddle. The image was striking. Her anger had not totally subsided, and she wore a stern look with rosy cheeks. With her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the long heavy paddle, Stacey thought she looked a bit like an old timey school teacher or principal, ready to dish out discipline. She brought her gaze down from the mirror to inspect the paddle. Painted in bright blue and yellow, the colors of her sorority, she recalled the night she had received it as a gift after completing her initiation. Stacey remembered thinking it was cute, but worrying that one of the older sisters might use it on her as part of the ceremony. She was relieved to learn later that paddling was no longer allowed. Since that night, she had never again thought about the paddles being used for anything other than decoration. Until now. Stacey turned the implement over in her hand, inspecting the back side and feeling its weight. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood, then tapped it twice against her palm. Feeling a slight tingle in her hand, she looked back at herself in the mirror and silently stared for a moment. Then, slowly and somewhat robotically, Stacey turned and pointed her rear end a the mirror. She bent her knees slightly and stuck out her bottom. Turning her head so she could see the mirror, she raised the paddle a few feet and quickly snapped it against her broad ass. “Oh!” Stacey let out a yelp. That hurt! And she hadn’t even swung it very hard. Rubbing her bottom rapidly, she immediately felt guilty for beating her friend Lara. Stacey had spanked her much harder, swinging the paddle with serious anger and intent. Poor Lara might even have a bruise on her ass. Stacey sat on her bed, guilt and shame weighing on her. She spent the next hour or so restless in her room trying to think of a way to make it right. Deep down she knew: there was only one way. It took some effort and courage, but Stacey finally peeled herself off her bed and stepped out of her room. She walked down the short hallway toward Lara’s room where she found the door closed. Stacey could see into the kitchen from there, and noticed it was spotless. Again mustering her courage, Stacey knocked gently on her roommate’s door. There was no answer. She knocked again. “Lara? Are you in there?” “Yeah…” came a muffled voice. “What do you want?” Lara said, a little snippy but trying to mind her tone. Her ass was still throbbing and she wasn’t about to risk another paddling. “I… um…” Stacey voice cracked. “I just wanted to apologize.” Both girls were silent for a moment. Finally Stacey spoke. “Can… can I come in?” Lara hesitated. She was still upset about what had happened, but if Stacey wanted to apologize, she thought maybe she should hear her out. “Ok…” Lara said tentatively. The door creaked open slowly. Stacey entered the room to see her friend face down on the bed. Lara had her head buried in a pillow, and her ass pointing at the ceiling. Stacey took only a few steps into the room, wanting to give Lara some space. “I’m really sorry, Lara,” she blurted out. “I don’t know what came over me. That was really out of line and I shouldn’t have done it.” Lara muttered something into the pillow. “What…?” Stacey asked, her voice cracking. Lara lifted her face for a moment. “Yes you should have.” Her head flopped back down on the pillow. Stacey was in shock. Did she hear right? Lara thought Stacey was right to paddle her? “What?? No no, I hit you. I hurt you. That was not ok!” Stacey stepped forward and sat on Lara’s bed. She extended a hand and placed it on Lara’s back. Lara sat up. She winced as she rested on her bottom. “It was more than ok,” Lara pouted, staring down at the bed in embarrassment. “I deserved it. I needed it, needed some sense knocked into me. I know I’ve been a terrible roommate. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again. I don’t want to lose our friendship.” Stacey was still stunned. She couldn’t believe her ears. But then, as Lara’s words set in, she realized maybe Lara was right. Maybe she did deserve to be punished for neglecting her household duties. Maybe a firm spanking was exactly what the girl needed to motivate herself and do better. Maybe Stacey had done her a favor. But she still felt ashamed for abusing her roommate in such a violent way. She felt like a bad friend, and she needed to deal with the guilt. “Well if you deserved it,” Stacey blurted out, “then so do I.” Lara looked up at Stacey suddenly. This time Stacey couldn’t meet her friend’s gaze and nervously picked at her finger nails. “It’s not like I’ve been perfect. And I don’t care what you say, I should never have hit you. I deserve everything you got, and more,” Stacey said sheepishly. The girls sat on Lara’s bed for a few minutes. No one spoke. Each of their minds was racing trying to figure out what to say or do next. Finally, Stacey could take the silence no more. She dragged herself to her feet, shuffled down the hall and retrieved the other paddle, Lara’s, from its place on the wall by the door. Tepidly walking back into Lara’s room, Stacey tossed the heavy implement on the bed toward her friend, turned around, put her elbows on Lara’s dresser and stuck out her big, round butt. She closed her eyes and held her breath. Lara stared at the paddle on the bed. At first, she had been so angry with Stacey, aghast at the fact that her good friend would dare spank her like a child. But standing in the kitchen washing dishes with a very sore bottom, dishes she was supposed to have done the day before, she had realized that her friend was justifiably fed up. Lara has been so neglectful, what else was Stacey supposed to do? Her gaze moved from the paddle to Stacey’s protruding backside. Lara knew her friend felt bad, and that maybe the air between them wouldn’t be cleared until the score was evened. She picked up the paddle and stood. Stacey, hearing movement behind her and eager to take her medicine and get it over with, spoke up. “I think I gave you 15,” she said, “so you can give me 20.” Lara didn’t respond. “Or… however many you think I deserve I guess…” Stacey added nervously. Lara tapped the paddle against her palm. It was very similar in size to Stacey’s, though a little wider and longer. It would suit Stacey’s bigger bottom quite nicely. “I’ll give you 15,” Lara said, shuffling over to the dresser. “Then we’ll be even.” “Ok…” Stacey said, almost in a whisper. Lara stepped to Stacey’s left side. Slowly, she wrapped her arm around Stacey’s waist, recalling how Stacey had held her in place just so. Lara tapped the paddle against Stacey’s waiting bottom. Stacey flinched. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lara asked. Stacey took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I need it.” Lara held the paddle against Stacey’s bottom for another brief moment. Turning back to look Lara in the face, Stacey added, “Don’t hold back.” Lara gave a half smile. Stacey turned her head back and closed her eyes. Lara took aim. CRACK! Stacey gasped as the paddle smacked her. Lara waited for only a second to gauge her reaction, then hit her twice more, harder in quick succession. “Oohhh! Aahhowww!” Stacey bellowed. It hurt like hell, but it did still seem like maybe Lara wasn’t giving it her all. Lara tightened her grip around Stacey’s waist to gain extra leverage. She brought the paddle down even harder with three more heavy swats. Stacey howled and tapped her toes. She was trying desperately to stay in place and take her punishment like a big girl, but her ass was on fire. “That was six,” Lara said. “Nine more to go. How you doing?” Stacey took a deep breath. “I’m ok. Go ahead.” Lara again tightened her hold on her friend and tapped the paddle against her, taking aim. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK Lara rained down four fast spanks as hard as she could. Stacey lost her breath momentarily from the shock and the searing pain. Once she regained it, she started crying. With the paddle resting firmly against Stacey’s bottom, Lara checked in again. “Five more, ok?” she said, almost reassuringly. Stacey couldn’t speak. She just sniffled and nodded. Lara took her time with the last five swats, making each one count, remembering just how brutally she had been spanked earlier that day. Stacey was sure she had never been in so much pain. She sobbed and howled uncontrollably, tears dripping on to the dresser in front of her. And then it was done. Lara set the paddle on the dresser. She rubbed Stacey’s back with one hand and her round, swollen bottom with the other. The girls stood there for several minutes, Stacey hunched over and quietly sobbing, Lara gently caressing her. Neither of them had ever felt a closeness like this before. Finally, Stacey caught her breath, stood and wiped her eyes. She pulled Lara into a big bear hug. “I’m so sorry,” she sniffed. “I know you are,” Lara said, tightly hugging her back. “I am too.” Stacey pulled her head back and looked at Lara, still embracing her. “Friends again?” she asked with a dopey smile and tear-streaked cheeks. “We never stopped being friends,” Lara said. “You’re damn right,” said Stacey, smiling wider. She reached down and slapped Lara’s ass sharply. Lara jumped back and yelped. “You bitch!” she said, grabbing her butt. Then she lunged at her friend and returned the swat, harder. “Ooowwoww hahah aahhowww!” Stacey giggled and grimaced at once. “God my ass hurts so much!!” “I know it does. Wanna know how I know?” Lara asked sarcastically. “Because mine fucking hurts more!” The girls giggled. An awkward silence ensued. “Do you want a little alone time?” Lara asked. “I know spending some time in my room just now really helped me calm down and feel better.” “Ok, yeah, I think you’re right,” returned Stacey. “Maybe I’ll go lie down for a bit.” “Good. I’ll come check on you in a little while. Then maybe we can order a pizza? That way no dishes…” “Hahaha. Sounds great,” Stacey smiled. “Ok. Now go to your room,” Lara playfully scolded, wagging a sarcastic finger. Stacey snickered and hurried out of the room. She collapsed on her bed, on her stomach, of course.

Stacey lay in her bed relieved that they’d found a third roommate and wouldn’t have to give up the lease on the house. It was such an amazing property, great location and had tons of space. Her mind drifted to Lara’s apprehension about their secret. It would be difficult, but she was sure they could keep it from Ted. Of course, she thought, maybe they wouldn't have to… Stacey recalled the fateful day when her friendship with Lara had almost been lost, but instead was cemented forever. The girls had moved in together at the start of their sophomore year, having pledged their sorority together and making fast friends as freshmen. But by the end of September, they were already driving each other crazy. The constant stack of dirty dishes was one thing, and piles of laundry yet another. They had begun arguing over petty shit like whose turn it was to take out the trash. Communication breakdowns were rampant, causing major issues with the shared bathroom. Finally, one day, Stacey had enough. Lara came home from class that afternoon, and Stacey was waiting for her. “Why the hell are there still dishes in the sink?!” she barked at Lara, the minute the door opened. “We talked about this yesterday. You were supposed to clean them last night! What the hell?!” “Oh well hello to you, too,” Lara muttered sarcastically, dropping her bag on the floor and taking off her shoes. She absent mindedly left them in the middle of the door way. “Don’t give me that!” Stacey yelled, raising her voice further. “And don’t leave your fucking shoes right there!!” She could feel the heat in her face as her temper soared. “Jesus, Stace,” Lara said rolling her eyes and picking up her shoes. “If I wanted to be nagged all the time, I’d go back and live with my mother!” Stacey’s blood was boiling. She was about to let loose with a long tirade when she caught sight of the decorative sorority paddles hanging in the entryway. The organization had long since banned paddling pledges during initiation ceremonies, but paddles were still part of the Greek life culture, often decorated and given as commemorative gifts. Lara had just accused Stacey of acting like her mother. Maybe that’s exactly what the girl was lacking - some firm maternal discipline. As Lara bent over to put her shoes away on the shoe rack, Stacey quickly walked up behind her and threw an arm around her waist, holding her in position. The taller Stacey easily held Lara down, her round butt well-presented. “Hey! Let go of me!” Lara yelled, struggling in vain. “What the hell do you think you’re doing??” “Something I clearly should have done weeks ago,” Stacey said, removing a paddle from the wall. “You think I nag you like your mother?? Well then I should get to punish you like your mother would when you misbehave!!” Lara finally realized what was about to happen. “Nooo!! Put that down you bitch!! Don’t you fucking dare!!” Her profane protests only served to steel Stacey’s resolve. She held the paddle over her head and cracked it over Lara’s ass, expertly landing the blow across both of the smaller girl’s cheeks. “Owww!!! Ahhh! Stacey!!! What the fu-” The paddle smacked her again. Though intended just for decoration, the colorfully painted paddle was a serious punishment implement. It was a half an inch thick, about a foot long, and four inches wide. Lara had an ample backside, but the big paddle was able to cover most of it and deliver a searing sting across her whole bottom. Stacey rhythmically spanked her roommate, not even noticing as Lara’s tone changed from profane indignation to contrite pleading. After nine swats, Stacey looked up to realize Lara was crying. “I’m sorry Stacey! I’m sorry!” she sniffed. “I’ll go do the dishes right now! Please stop!!” Stacey spanked her again. “Owwwww aaaahaahhaa!” Tears were streaking Lara’s face. Her ass was on fire. Stacey paused. “I’m going to give you five more,” she said, almost surprising herself with the dominant tone she struck, “and THEN you can go do the dishes.” “Please no, ple— OWWWWW!!!” Stacey was done listening to Lara complain. She brought the paddle down with ferocity five times in rapid succession, making her roommate blubber and bawl like a child. When she released Lara, the girl fell in a heap on the floor, grabbing at her butt and trying desperately to rub out the sting. Stacey let her be for a moment, feeling a little sorry for the abuse she had just doled out. But her anger quickly kicked back in. “Go do the dishes,” she ordered. “Now!” Lara pulled herself off the floor and scurried down the hall to the kitchen, still sniffling and rubbing her bottom. Once she heard the water running, Stacey retreated to her bedroom.

Chapter 57 “Thanks for coming,” Ella said to Jamie as they sat in that lounge. Ella was tired of the place. Jamie felt a little weird about the whole hotel. He glimpsed independent humans for the first time since arriving in Itali, other than Ella’s family. It was the only floor of the hotel set aside for littles, and it wasn’t full. Just seeing one stepping out of his room trailing a roller bag made Jamie feel uncomfortable, like he was now less than them because he was dependent. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way, but he did. “I’m glad to. It was nice to meet your family, all things considered,” he lied. There was a knock on the door, and Peter opened it without waiting for an answer. His family trailed him into the room. Ella greeted them with the same hug as yesterday, and she wondered when they’d stop coming together and leaving one another that way. This time, for the first time, Brad sat down next to Ella, not across the room. She and Jamie scooched over to make room for him. “How did everyone sleep,” Ella asked. “Well enough,” Lynn said tiredly. “Yourself?” “Same.” She’d shared her bed with Jamie, and they managed to sleep fine after their nighttime bottles. Jamie tried to smile in a way that made him seem gently innocuous, not a threat but not eager, either, as though he were simply content with everything around him. Rosie pulled off that expression effortlessly, and Jamie often wore it, too, but it was harder that day. “You look more comfortable today,” Jackie said to him, taking note of his tee shirt and shorts. He’d tuck in his shirt again at the next party or event, whenever that was. Jamie crossed his ankle over his knee, suddenly self conscious that one of them could see up his shorts to his diaper, though they really couldn’t. It seemed like an impasse, the stilted small talk, and Stacy thought she might be helpful if she tried to say something. She really hadn’t yet. She began to move from the corner she’d been sitting in during these visits into a chair in the center of the room, saying, “I think...” Andy cut her off. “About yesterday.” Brad spoke up. “Maybe we can just get to it. I guess we just did.” He’d asked to be the one to tell her. He didn’t feel he’d done enough, and he still felt the strength of their childhood connection that he at least liked to imagine still mattered to both of them. “Brad,” Ella started to say. “Me first,”‘he replied. He said it softly. Of all the things he was, angry wasn’t one of them. None of them were, not with Ella. “We talked about it last night. Didn’t talk about it for very long, actually,” he said with an awkward laugh. “We ... ahem ...” He shook his head. “What,” Ella asked, on the verge of tears, the frightened kind. “Ya know, Mom and Dad always said, back when we were kids, that the best day of their lives was when each of us was born.” His eyes seemed to warm up, and he looked at Brad and at Jackie, and then Ella, recounting an old joke. “Remember what they used to say when we were alone with them?” Ella scoffed. “That the day I was born was their best, and they were just saying that to make us feel equal.” “Said the same thing to me,” Andy said. Jackie nodded. “Well,” Brad said and then sighed, “My best day was when dad called and told me.” Brad smiled at the memory, not so distant. “I didn’t understand what the hell he was saying. He was hysterical.” Peter blushed. “He was babbling. I mean, I thought something terrible had happened.” “So did I,” Jackie said. “You never call during the day,” she said to her father. “And I scared the hell out of everyone in the restaurant I was. My date ... she ...” He laughed. “She wasn’t sure if she should help me or run like crazy. She - hahaha - she must’ve been ready to mace me - hahahaha. Oh... Anyway...” Ella was crying again. She was so sick of crying. But this was better than yesterday. It didn’t hurt so much. She cried because of how much she loved her people, and for how sorry she was for everything. “Anyway,” Brad said again, “best day ever, and if this is your home now, that doesn’t change that. We’re just ... happy for you, that you have people who love you,” Brad said as he too choked up. “O, Brad,” Ella said as she put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t ... I’m sorry.” “Stop,” Andy said, putting a hand up and shaking his head as Ella looked toward him. “Stop being sorry. It’s not worth it, Ella ... Regrets aren’t worth it. Let’s just be here now, together.” Tearfully, her jaw clenched, Ella nodded. “Okay,” was all she said, barely above a whisper. ————— When Stacy dropped Jamie off, everyone again exchanged thanks yous, and Stacy and Ella didn’t stay. Jamie didn’t mind. He was ready to be out of crisis mode, and so were they. Amanda was eager to see him. She hadn’t felt fully right leaving him the day before with things seeming unfinished. Mostly, though, she was just worried about him and wanted to make him feel like a normal little again. To remind him that he was very good, and very special, and very loved. To get him out of that trauma headspace as quickly as possible. She took him to her bedroom, sat him on the bed, handed him his bear, and told him to wait. She was back in a moment with a bottle. “Arms up,” she told him. She pulled his shirt off him and gently shoved him backward onto the bed so she could take his sandals off and then his shorts. He was a bit bewildered by it. She seemed so intent, moving quickly, and he thought he understood why. She sat down on the bed and settled herself into her pillows, then held out her own arms. Jamie scooted onto her lap with her help, and she guided him back. “I’m okay, Manda,” he told her. “It was a good morning.” “Shhh, Baby Bear. Tell me later.” She held the bottle to his lips, and he as he started to nurse, she ran her fingernails lightly across his chest and tummy. It made him sigh and stretch his toes. “There’s a good boy,” Manda told him. It felt good to have him home even if it were just a day. “Manda missed you last night.” She kissed the top of his head. “My Jamie. You’re not allowed out of my sight for the rest of the day, or I’ll tickle you til you squee.” “Silwy, Manda,” Jamie said around the nipple of his baba. “Not silly at all, Baby Bear. Not at all.”

Sitting in the back seat of an Amazon-scaled car, Ellie wasn’t able to get a very good view of whatever was outside the window. Eventually, though, the car came to a stop. Katie got out of the driver’s seat and came around to open the back door, reaching in and undoing Ellie’s seatbelt. Ellie then stifled a squeak of surprised embarrassment as the Amazon gently picked her up by the armpits and lifted her out of the car, setting her down on the driveway. Ellie’s eye widened as she got a good look around. She was in one of the wealthier parts of town, up in the hills where all the big houses were. They were parked in the driveway of a rather large two-story abode of a tasteful style and coloring. Her little hand was again taken in Katie’s much larger one, and the Amazon woman cheerfully led her new little friend along toward the front door. In addition to a regular key (that went with a rather sturdy-looking lock), there was also a partially concealed thumbprint-reading device. “My brother works for a big home-security company” Katie explained. The door swung open, and Ellie was pulled inside. Led through an entrance hall, she soon found herself in a very spacious but fairly modestly-decorated living room. Even with her boots on, she could tell the off-white carpeting was probably really soft and nice. She was led over to a big, dull-red couch, picked up and sat down on it; it was so soft and cushy and comfy, and part of her felt like the couch cushions would sink her in and swallow her up. “Are you hungry, sweetie?” Katie asked. “I know 10:30 might be a little bit early for lunch, but…” “I… didn’t have much of a breakfast, actually…” Ellie admitted. “Just a muffin – Little-scaled…” “Well, that’s no good; your tummy needs more than that. Just relax while I fix something up. Oh, but first, it might be a bit hard to rest your feet in those…” Katie reached down, and Ellie stiffened a little in surprise as the Amazon carefully unzipped and removed the Little’s boots, freeing her feet (well, still clad in plain white socks). With that done, the woman headed for the nearby kitchen. Ellie did her best to relax on the huge, comfy couch, looking around. Every single thing – couch, chairs, tables, decorations, TV, and so on – looked to be scaled for an Amazon, making her feel so tiny. Furthermore, even by Amazon standards this was a big and spacious living room with a fairly high ceiling, making it all seem even bigger. The realization she was in an Amazon’s home made her feel a little nervous. Finally, after about 10 minutes, Katie came back carrying a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich on it, cut into smaller pieces. She handed it to Ellie, who cautiously began to eat. It was actually pretty good. “So, Ellie,” Katie said, “tell me a little about yourself. Do you have family nearby?” Ellie swallowed. “Actually, no” she admitted. “I’m an only child, and my mom and dad were killed in that big earthquake 10 years ago, when I was 12. My dad’s parents disappeared off the face of the Earth, it seems, and my mom’s parents – she was an only child, too – were killed in a car crash when I was a year old. So, I don’t really have anyone…” Katie looked at her with a slightly sad expression. “So you’re alone in the world…” “Yeah…” Ellie said softly, before shaking her head to get herself out of that mood. Katie sat down beside Ellie, placing a hand on the Little’s opposite shoulder and gently pulling her close. The two of them talked about little things for the next 20 minutes or so, Ellie being convinced to tell Katie more about herself, while Katie returned the favor; apparently, her brother (a fraternal twin) was pretty high up in the chain at the home-security company he worked for, and the success of the company meant he and his wife were quite well-off. Part of Katie’s own moderately-high wealth came from that, though she also inherited some from her father – the CEO of an electronics company (and Ellie swore she’d heard the man’s name mentioned as a philanthropist of sorts) – and she was also pretty good at stocks. Katie herself was 26, with no children and no significant other (“yet”, Katie had been sure to add for that last part). “Say, sweetie…” Katie said, speaking in a warm and gentle tone. “This might be a little sudden, but… Would you like to live here with me?” “…Huh?” Ellie looked up at her, surprised. Katie smiled down at her. “I could take care of you, and protect you” the kindly Amazon woman continued. “My brother and his wife have a little girl of their own, and they come over here sometimes, so I have some ‘supplies’ of hers set up in one of the guest rooms.” Now Ellie was visibly nervous as she got the implications. “U-Uh… I… B-But… I’m…” Katie picked the Little girl up, sitting her in her lap facing her, one hand rubbing Ellie’s back while the other gently stroked her cheek and hair. “Ellie, sweetie,” she said softly, “before you start to wonder, I’m not one of those Amazons who think all Littles are inherently helpless and incapable of making it on their own. But… You are alone in the world, with no support; your injury means you’ve lost the one steady job you could find; with only one eye you’ll be less capable at things and you’ll be in more danger of hurting yourself; and… from what you’ve told me, between stopping a robbery and self-defense killing one of their members, the Talons… They’ll know who you are, and they’ll be after you. …I want to protect you, to give you safety and comfort, to give you warmth and love; you won’t have to worry about big responsibilities anymore because my family and I will take care of you… I’ll let you watch or listen to what you want, still; I won’t make you do baby-talk… well, not all the time, anyway… and since you’ve been without a family for so long, I’ll be sure to give you lots of hugs and cuddles and stuff to make up for what you’ve missed. “So how about it, sweetie? Will you let me be your mommy? Will you be my little girl?” Ellie’s thoughts were in a whirl, her little heart beating. One part of her was loathe to let go of the freedom and maturity she’d worked so hard and long to hold onto, to be made into a… into a baby… But on the other hand, parts of it sounded appealing – not having to worry about a lot of things anymore, living in a big, bright house instead of the dreary little apartment, Katie was so kind and gentle, and… she hadn’t been held in so long… Furthermore, Katie was offering to let her keep some parts of her old life – favorite TV shows and music, and the like; that was much more than what most Amazons would do. And then there was the protection aspect – living in a big house with an updated security system, under the care of an attentive Amazon, would likely be quite a deterrent to any vengeful Talons, and having someone to make sure she didn’t get hurt because of her now-impaired field of vision and depth perception… If she refused, Katie would probably let her go… but the next Amazon to find her might not be so forgiving, might completely take away every facet of her old self. Plus, she’d had no protection from the Talons… ‘…S-So this is it, then’ Ellie thought. ‘I made it 22 years… At least, with Katie, I’ll be a lot better off than I would’ve been with most other Amazons…’ The blonde Little took a deep, slightly ‘shuddering’ breath. “…A… Alright…” she murmured. “I… I’m all yours…” Katie’s smile grew, and Ellie then found her face lightly pressed between the Amazon’s sizable breasts in a hug. Katie’s hand rubbed her back, and then Ellie felt a tug as her hair-tie was pulled away, leaving her mid-back-length golden-blonde hair loose for Katie’s hand to gently stroke. After a few seconds, she was carefully sat down on the couch, and Katie bend down and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “Just wait right here, sweetie” the woman said. “I’ll go get the ‘supplies’…” Katie headed up the stairs to the second floor with a bit of a spring in her step, leaving Ellie to wait again on the big comfy couch. ------------------------------------ It only took a few minutes before Katie returned, carrying one of those reusable shopping bags repurposed by her to carry other things; Ellie gulped nervously as she figured what was probably in that bag. “Okay, sweetheart,” Katie said, “it’s time to get you all set up.” She set the bag down beside an ottoman, and Ellie stifled a squeak as she was unceremoniously picked up and carried over to it; due to it being scaled for Amazons, for someone as tiny as Ellie the ottoman was the right size to serve as an impromptu changing table. She was sat down on it and made to lie back, and her red shirt was pushed partially upward, bunched up just below her meager breasts to leave her lower back and her soft tummy exposed; Katie giggled softly, and Ellie squeaked as the Amazon’s fingertips ran along her bare belly a little. Ellie closed her eyes, trying hard to relax her body, as her black jeans were unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled down and off of her slender legs, leaving her in just the shirt and a pair of plain grey cotton panties. Katie then grabbed hold of Ellie’s hands – folded atop her upper stomach – and gently moved them up so they were resting on either side of her head, part of the typical ‘changing pose’. Then, Ellie closed her eyes, her cheeks going pink, as – probably for the last time – her panties were pulled down and off, exposing her crotch (by a quirk of genetics, she was hairless down there) and bare bottom. Katie grabbed hold of Ellie’s legs, moving them back & forth to play with her a bit before then spreading and bending them, leaving Ellie’s lower body in an approximation of an ‘M’ shape, her bare crotch and butt even more exposed. Her lower back was made to bend, her butt being lifted up off the cool, soft fabric of the ottoman, making her nether region stick upward, more or less. The Little blushed brightly at how utterly exposed she now was. Then, Katie reached into the bag. Even with her eyes closed, Ellie could hear the soft rustling and crinkling of a diaper being withdrawn and unfolded. Her blush deepened a little, and her heartbeat sped up a bit. Katie slid the open diaper beneath Ellie’s lifted-up bottom, and then she took a container of baby powder – the kind with aloe and vitamin-E, so it felt extra-nice and was good for the little one’s sensitive skin – and applied a thin coating of it all over the inside of the diaper, from one end of the padding to the other. Ellie let out another cute little squeak, despite her attempt to hold it in, as baby powder was sprinkled all over her butt and the lower part of her crotch, Katie making sure to be thorough. The Little’s now-white bottom was slowly lowered onto the waiting diaper, legs still partially spread and bent, and she let out a slightly ‘sharp’ breath as she was also amply baby-powdered on & around her privates and pubic mound. Katie also baby-powdered out to Ellie’s upper inner thighs, and then up past her waist to part of her soft, smooth tummy, stopping below her belly-button. Finally, Katie took hold of the front of the diaper and carefully folded it up into place, fixing the six tapes into place to make the diaper nice and comfy-snug. “There we go, honey” she cooed. “Mommy’s finally got you in a nice, soft, thick, comfy, cute diapie.” Ellie blushed at the choice of words, and she let out a soft noise as she inspected the sensations, slowly moving her legs & hips just a teensy bit. The diaper felt thick and puffy under her butt and between her legs, wrapping around her hips, and the inner padding actually felt softer than she’d expected; it was actually a little comfy and nice. The cool, soft baby powder against her sensitive skin added to that. Though, there was also the feeling of infantileness, the embarrassment of actually being in a diaper just like a baby. Ellie propped her upper body up on her elbows so she could have a look, and her blush deepened. The diaper was thick enough that it held her butt up off the ottoman a bit and pushed her thighs open a little, enough that she’d almost certainly have a waddle to her walk. She could see the soft white of baby powder on her lower tummy and on the inside of her upper thighs. But most embarrassing for the tomboyish Ellie was the diaper’s design. The ‘base’ was white, as what most people thought of when they thought ‘diaper’, but the tapes, the waistband, and the edges along the leg-holes were a soft, pale pink, with the latter two also having a slightly frilly look/design. The front decal had a row of bright pink hearts, and the rest of the diaper had little faint pale-pink hearts all over it. Katie giggled. “Ellie-baby’s so cute~ in a diapie!” Still a little emotionally vulnerable from her newly-diapered state, Ellie put up no resistance as the Amazon woman picked her up and carried her over to the recliner, sitting down while holding the Little. Ellie’s chin was made to rest on Katie’s shoulder, and the tall woman sighed happily as she nuzzled the Little girl, one hand beginning to run through her long, golden-blonde hair while the other cupped and softly patted her thickly-padded bottom, all while beginning to slowly rock the chair back & forth. Ellie blushed a little more at this affection, especially the diaper-butt pats, but at the same time… it actually was pretty comfortable, even soothing. Katie was so warm and gentle, her warm arms holding Ellie’s tiny body close, the physical contact and gentle affection having quite the effect on the Little who’d been alone for so long; even the soft and gentle pats on her diapered bottom were comforting and soothing in a way, as were the fingers running through her hair and rubbing her back. Katie’s smile grew as she felt little Ellie let out a deep, slow breath and relax in her arms, the Little’s eye closing almost all the way. “That’s right, sweetie” she spoke very softly. “Relax… Mommy’s got you. Mama’s sweet little baby girl, so cute in her thick and super-comfy diapie… You’ve been alone for so long, but that’s all done now. You can snuggle and cuddle with Mommy now, let Mommy hold you close and rub your back and pat your little diapie-butt, rock you back & forth… You don’t have to worry about things anymore, Ellie. You’re gonna be safe and warm and happy and loved from now on. I’ve got you. Mommy’s got you…” Despite still feeling a little mortified over her present situation, Ellie could not ignore how incredibly soothed and relaxed and comfortable she felt right now, safe and secure in Katie’s embrace and in that of the thick, soft, baby-powdered diaper. She’d never imagined becoming an Amazon’s baby would be like this… The tiniest of content smiles formed on her still-blushing face, as she snuggled against her… her new Mommy. ‘I guess… this maybe ain’t so bad, after all…’ she thought.

TRIGGER WARNING: suicide This is the second time I've dealt with really dark feelings in this story. Part 22"Well, we've got a few minutes before Melanie is done with juice time," Lisa was kneeling next to me, I never even heard her approach, "Let's see what your mommy packed for you." She pulled the soft puffy diaper bag down from the couch and opened it up."Here's Harry," she said, handing me my beloved friend. I hugged him tightly, my emotions still felt a little unstable. "You brought... tattletale diapers? Three of them? Do you want me to put you in one of these?" Lisa sounded surprised."No," I laughed, "They're for Mellie! Don't you think she'll like them?""Oh gosh," Lisa laughed, "Mellie will probably ask me to pour warm water down them, just to see how big they can get!" She laughed for a good long moment at the thought, and what I assumed was a mental picture. I blushed a bit at the thought, I really didn't understand Melanie sometimes."You really love Melanie, huh?""I really do," Lisa looked down at me, smiling, "Thank you for showing me how sweet and wonderful a Little can be. I can't imagine life without Melanie at this point, she's.. she's my precious Little girl." Lisa sounded a little choked up, I laid a tiny hand on her thigh in what I hoped would be seen as a comforting gesture.She set the electronic toy down without a word as Melanie's autofeeder beeped just then. She stood up and retrieved Melanie from the swing."My goodness," Lisa said as she lifted Melanie, "Did you pee the whole time you were being fed? You're soaked!""Mooommmyyy... " Melanie whined and covered her face with her hands, "Kimmy's here!""Okay, you're forcing my hand," Lisa said. She set Melanie down near me. "Say, 'I have very wet diapers and I'm not sorry'.""Please mommy!" Melanie begged, "I'm embarrassed!""That's why you need to do this, Melanie. It's not healthy for you to hide, you spend so much time blushing and scared that someone will know you like it. Kimmy already knows and nobody else should care. Now go on.""I.. have very wet diapers," she blushed deeply as she said the word 'diapers', I felt embarrassed on her behalf, "and I'm not sorry.""Are you going to try to hide the fact that you like being a Little again?""No... ""Kimmy, do you think Melanie is weird or wrong for liking being a Little?""No! Of course not," I said quickly, "Melanie is my friend and she wouldn't be the same if she didn't like it."Melanie was beaming at this point... her diaper was dangerously swollen though, the snaps on her onesie seemed to be straining a bit."Now crawl your cute butt into the nursery so I can change you," Lisa said with her hands on her hips. Melanie dropped to all fours and crawled out of the room, her ruffled bottom swaying the whole way."You," Lisa said as she picked me up, "April told me about your cookie stealing adventure. I don't have a playpen or a bouncer, so do you want to go in the swing or the crib?""I'll be good, I'll sit and color and not move!""Not happening, sugar. You're a little emotional already, and I'm not taking any chances on our first ever sleepover. Swing or crib?"I looked at the tube of the autofeeder dangling near the swing...."Crib."We made it to the nursery just as Melanie finished crawling there, her ruffled butt sticking out way beyond anything that looked comfortable to me.Melanie's nursery was... pink. Everything was pink or white. It was a spoiled princess' room with a gleaming white crib which had a gauzy pink canopy. Stacks and stacks of pink diapers were on the shelf under the changing table. A pile of pink stuffed animals sat next to a glossy white glider chair. The pillows and blankets in the crib were pink, the curtains were pink, the princess stickers dancing on the walls were pink. Lisa deposited me in the crib and lifted Melanie onto the changing table and proceeded to unsnap Melanie's onesie."I'm not looking!" I called loudly after I had sat down with my back to them. Melanie was always embarrassed, she would probably be really upset if I watched her get changed. I slipped my hands into the sloth mittens and picked up.. "Duchess Fuzzbutt!" Melanie had Duchess Fuzzbutt in the crib!"Yeah," Lisa laughed, "Melanie wanted to sleep with your present last night, I think you did a good job picking it out."I hugged Duchess Fuzzbutt and laughed. Knowing that I made Mellie happy made me happy. April had asked me to think about what I wished I had from the beginning... Harry Otter made me feel better. I think it's important for a Little to have a companion. Someone to hug when you're sad, someone to talk to when you're not sure of something, someone to drag around with you... I was glad I had Harry, though I did wish I had him right now. He was on the floor in the living room.I was on my feet on the floor before too much longer, standing next to Melanie who had on a fresh thick diaper under her onesie and a smile on her face. Lisa reached down and squeezed my crotch again."You don't need a change yet. Both of you go play, I'm going to go start dinner. I'm trusting you both, don't get into any trouble. I want you to have a fun sleepover, I don't want to have to lock you in the nursery.""We'll be good," I promised. I took Melanie by the hand and toddled back into the living room. Lisa passed by us and headed to the kitchen. I wanted to show off my coloring book to Melanie, it was one of the best toys April had given me, it was very stimulating."What's this?" Melanie said, picking up the electronic toy."It looks like one of those memory games, do you want to play it?""Sure, those are fun," she said, pushing the 'on' button. It made a loud beep and played a musical sequence."Can you take that into the nursery?" I heard Lisa call, "I don't really want to listen to a bunch of beeping." "Sorry!" I called. We turned the toy off and headed back to the nursery, sitting down on the floor and turning it back on. It did its beep and music again, and the pads lit up. It was a black circular piece of plastic with four large pad-like buttons big enough for you to put your whole hand on. Two were lit up blue and the other two were lit up purple. There was a central display that had the word READY written on it."Um, isn't it supposed to play music and we copy it?" Melanie asked, the toy didn't seem to be working. She pushed down on one of the pads, but it didn't chime.WAITING FOR PLAYERS, the central display declared. Otherwise, the toy remained unchanged."Maybe if we push all 4 buttons at once so it knows we're ready," I suggested, putting my hands on the two blue buttons. The buttons changed to a white color, and Melanie put her hands on the purple ones, which also turned white.CALIBRATING, the toy declared. The central display changed to read, PLAYER ONE, TELL THE TRUTH: WHAT COLOR IS THE SKY."Blue," I said, confused. This didn't seem like a music toy, but now I was curious as to what it was. Neither April nor Lisa had been worried about it when they handled it, and April had bought it so it was safe, it wasn't going to grab me or hypnotize me or anything.PLAYER TWO, TELL THE TRUTH: WHAT COLOR IS THE GRASS"Green," Melanie giggled. Even if this was a child's quiz-game, she was going to have fun with it.PLAYER ONE, TELL THE TRUTH: HOW OLD ARE YOU"Twenty-six," I said with a smile. Melanie having fun made me happy.PLAYER TWO, TELL THE TRUTH: HOW OLD ARE YOU"Thirty-two," Melanie said softly.PLAYER ONE, TELL A LIE: WHAT COLOR IS THE GRASS"Pink," I laughed. This game was silly.PLAYER TWO, TELL A LIE: WHAT COLOR IS THE SKY"Orange," Melanie laughed as well.PLAYER ONE, ASK A QUESTION"Um," I said, "What color... are Lisa's eyes?"PLAYER TWO, TELL THE TRUTH"Brown! They're the prettiest brown," Melanie said with a smile. The buttons under her hands lit up green and the display read TRUTH, then changed to PLAYER TWO, ASK A QUESTION. Melanie's buttons returned to white. "Ohhh, um... who's your favorite person?""April!" I declared, laughing as the buttons turned green under my hands. It was my turn again, "Do you like to wet your diapers?""No," Melanie blushed and her buttons turned red and the display read LIE."Mellie, I already knew," I said to her and my buttons lit up green. This technology was amazing.. something like this would have been incredibly useful back home and they used it for a Little's toy here."Do you like wetting your diapers?" Melanie asked me in return."No, but I don't hate it anymore." TRUTH. "Um, what's your favorite color?""Pink," Melanie answered but was met with LIE, "Wow, okay.. it's purple." TRUTH."Mellie! Does Lisa know?""No," Melanie blushed. TRUTH. "I.. I told her I liked pink and she got all that pink stuff and I don't want to hurt her feelings or upset her... Hey, it's my turn! Does April know you love her?""Yes of course," I said. LIE. "What? She knows I love her!" LIE. "I say 'I love you' all the time to her." TRUTH. "I think this thing isn't working right," TRUTH. "Maybe we should stop?""No please, I'm having fun," TRUTH. "Let's play a little longer? It's your turn.""Um," I thought for a moment, wanting to get back to more fun questions, "What was your job back home?""I worked retail," TRUTH. "I didn't like it very much." TRUTH. "My turn. Would you go back if you could?""Yes," I answered.. I didn't like this game any more. LIE. "I don't like it here." LIE. "I.. miss my freedom." TRUTH. "What? How can I possibly want to stay and miss my freedom at the same time? That doesn't make any sense." TRUTH. Melanie wanted to play hardball. Fine. "When did you find out you were a girl?""I was fourteen. All the rockstars had long hair and so did I.. then the girls at school started painting my nails and I found out I really liked it. I wanted to be cute, not tough," TRUTH. "My turn. What's your favorite thing about April."Now it was my turn to blush."How beautiful she is, how smart she is, and how much she loves me," I couldn't help but smile. TRUTH. "Did you come to this dimension voluntarily?""No, I.. " TRUTH. She didn't finish answering, she trailed off."Wait - I really thought you did! How did you get here?""I.. Kimmy, I died." TRUTH."You WHAT?" I rocked back on my butt, the shock sent me reeling, "What do you mean you died? You're not dead. I'm not dead!""I took the whole bottle of pills and went to sleep. I.. I couldn't do it any more. I couldn't take it any more." The machine stopped working, my hands weren't on it any more. "I woke up as they pulled me through the portal... they got the pills out of me.. and.. I was in Lisa's arms an hour later. I.. " Melanie was starting to cry, "Lisa saved my life."I realized that I couldn't remember coming here.. the last thing I remembered was getting too drunk at a party, and then April. What if..."LISA!" I was panicking, tears were forming in my eyes, "LISA!" Melanie was starting to bawl.

Part 21"Lisa!" I exclaimed as the door opened and I lunged at her legs and wrapped myself around them. April had put me down at the door so I could stand on my own two feet when Lisa greeted us. "Lisa Lisa Lisa Lisa! I'm a sloth!""You are much, much too fast to be a sloth! You're some kind of sloth-predator in disguise," Lisa bent down to tickle me and worked in a diaper-squeeze. She was so indelicate! April had the decency to ask instead of just squeezing my crotch. I shook off the irritation, I liked Lisa too much to have my mood spoiled by something so small, "Show me your best sloth crawl."I dropped to all fours and slowly... slowly... slooooowly crawled forward, until I heard Melanie giggling from the couch. I fell over laughing and rolled on the floor to a point where I could see her."She's in a good mood," I heard Lisa say quietly to April."We had some sad when she woke up this morning, but she just needed some love. She's been a joy ever since," April responded, equally as quiet. Lisa shut the door behind us after April was in.Melanie struggled to climb down off the couch to join my laughing form on the floor, I got a big view of her ruffly butt as she did so. Her diapers were so thick! Trying to move in that would be torture. Melanie had her hair braided in two low pigtails that hung on either side of her face... they made her chin look too pointy, but I wasn't about to tell her that. She was wearing just a snap-crotch onesie, covered with princesses and unicorns and hearts. It was white with red ruffles at the shoulder, red trim, and a big red bow on her butt sitting above four rows of lace ruffles. I knew Lisa didn't pick that out, Melanie had the worst taste!"I love your PJs," she said after finally making it to the floor - the last few inches were a drop onto her well padded butt, but she didn't seem to mind at all, "they're so cute! Ohmygosh, they have mittens! I'm so jealous! Do you like my onesie?""It's very cute!" It wasn't technically a lie, it was cute but it was so, so babyish. I wouldn't want to wear that, ever! "You look so happy in it.""This one is my favorite! I begged mommy to get it for me and she did!"She called Lisa 'mommy' so casually. I looked up to April and saw that she noticed, too... I felt guilty."...cared if you dolled up or not?" I drifted back into listening to Lisa talk to April."I don't get dressed up for Gwen's benefit, darling - I like looking good for me," April responded with a smile, it was hard to make out all of her words, but it was easy to tell that she was mostly happy."Is Kimmy over the fact that you're going out? You said she took it pretty hard," Lisa was asking. I pretended I wasn't listening and started my slow crawl again, which made Mellie laugh."I think so. She was just afraid that Gwen might replace her in my heart, it's just a fear of not being loved. Poor Littles, they need so much love... You shouldn't have to worry about that though, she seems fine emotionally today. Just make sure she's in bed on time.""Oh believe me," I could hear Lisa's smile even though I couldn't see it, "I'm never making that mistake again. Mellie has a similar problem, but it's 8:15 instead of 7."I slow crawled over to Mellie and started tickling her, her uncontrollable laughter was contageous, soon everyone was laughing with her. By the time I stopped, she had tears in her eyes.. and her diaper was warm, which made me blush. A timer went off from the other room as she was catching her breath."Juice time!" Lisa declared, scooping the panting puddle of Melanie up in her arms. "Hang out just a minute, April? The book says that we have to follow a strict schedule if we want this to work well.""The book?" April groaned, "I thought we learned this lesson?""It's fine," Lisa said as she strapped Melanie into the swing in their living room, it was the exact same as the one I had! "Mellie wants this," she continued as she strapped a device to Melanie's face.. it was a tube very similar to the one the RoboNanny forcefed me with that awful day at the LittleGarden and I watched in horror as Lisa turned the pump on and started forcefeeding nearly two gallons of what looked like a flavored water into poor Melanie."No!" I cried out, "Don't!"I struggled to my feet and tried to run to save Mellie, but I was scooped up from behind by April, who buried my face in her breasts."Shhhh, shhhh... " she held me tightly, "It's okay, look... " she turned me around slowly, walking over to the swing, which was gently rocking Melanie... who looked worried, not scared. "Look, Mellie is okay. It's not a robot, it's not hurting her.""But... " I started."Mellie wants this," Lisa said softly, Melanie nodded, still drinking the juice, "this is untraining.. Melanie doesn't want to have to worry about her bladder any more, she wants to be done with the full feelings and needing to let go. She kept waking up in the middle of the night to go and couldn't get back to sleep. This is supposed to fix that, her bladder is supposed to just give up and go whenever it needs to without her having to wet herself on purpose." Lisa stroked Melanie's hair as the swing gently rocked her.That sounded awful! That was the exact opposite of what I wanted, it was the very thing I was upset about this morning."But.. " I started again."Shhh, Kimmy, not everyone is the same as you, not everyone wants the same things you do, and that's okay. You don't have problems at night, Melanie does. That doesn't make you wrong or her right or the other way around... it just is. We love Melanie and we want her to be happy, and this is what she wants. We're not going to do this to you, but we're also not going to stop Melanie from trying to find her own happiness.. she isn't hurting anyone, is she?""No.. " I agreed."Why don't you color in your book while Melanie drinks, and you two can play when she's done."I watched Melanie in the swing, she looked very relaxed. She didn't look scared.. her eyes were closed gently, not scrunched and she wasn't restrained... other than the buckle to keep her from falling out of the swing. She could pull the tube and pacifier out of her mouth if she wanted to. She... didn't want to. April sat me on the floor and pulled my activity book and crayons out of the diaper bag and set them in front of me."I'm sure she won't be long, don't worry sweetie, she's okay."I nodded and started coloring, trying to put my focus into my art. Melanie was okay. Melanie was okay. Lisa would never hurt her, Lisa loved Melane and Melanie loved Lisa."Are you sure you can do this?" I overheard April asking Lisa quiety, "I can cancel on Gwen, it won't be the end of the world.""No, I've got this. I can handle Kimmy, we'll be fine. I want you to have a good time, and don't do anything I wouldn't do... actually, do substantially less than I would do."April laughed and hugged her, then knelt down next to me.. I'd barely colored, I was having trouble focusing."I'm going to go, sweetheart. I want you to be a good girl, okay?"I was on my feet and in her arms in a flash."I love you," I said softly in her ear. I was standing on her thighs with my arms wrapped around her neck, and for a moment.. with my cheek pressed against hers like this.. I liked this. It felt normal. For a moment I could close my eyes and imagine that we were the same size as I spoke softly in her ear, "I love you so much.""I love you too, Kimberly," she squeezed me tightly and for a long moment, the world was perfect. I didn't break the embrace.. I wouldn't. I wanted this hug to last forever and ever. I.. I wanted to kiss her."You two are so cute!" the sound of Lisa's voice followed by a camera shutter brought me back to reality. I blushed at the openness of my affection and looked into April's big green eyes, so full of love as always. The urge was still there... just lean forward and kiss her.She sat me down on my diapered butt and planted a kiss on my forehead.. and I felt tears welling up."Oh sweetie," she drew me close again, "I'll be back before you know it. I'll... I'll be here when you wake up!" She squeezed me."You need to go," Lisa said softly, as if I couldn't hear her, "you don't want to be here if she melts down, you'll miss your date. I can handle this.""I can't!" April had such sadness in her voice, "Can't you see she's hurting?""Of course I can, April.. but she needs to be okay if you have to leave her alone for a bit. It's not good for her if you have to be there all the time and you know it.""I'll be okay," I said quietly, "I'm sorry I got sad.. I'm going to have lots of fun with Lisa and Melanie.""Don't ever apologize for your feelings," April said, squeezing me hard, "It's okay to be sad. It's okay to have all kinds of feelings. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm going to miss you too, Kimmy. We've had such a wonderful time together lately, I don't want to leave you for a moment."Then why are you going? I wanted to ask, but I didn't.. it would just make things harder and that wasn't fair.April gave me one more squeeze and sat me back down, standing up and looking down on me from her towering height. She's so beautiful from every angle, it hurt to watch her go as she blew me a kiss and walked out the door, leaving me behind.

I'm posting two chapters today especially for my friend KWOceans because I don't think she'll like chapter 19 so much. Part 19"I'll be right back, I have to get the leftovers out of the trunk," April said as she set me down on my feet just inside the door. "Find something to play with, I won't be a moment."I nodded as she turned and went back out the front door. I saw Harry's tail poking out from around the corner of the kitchen doorway. I walked over, as best I could with a pretty wet diaper, and picked him up.. when I spotted the package of cookies on the countertop. I was so hungry and they were right there... April wouldn't mind if I just took one. I'd been good, I deserved a cookie. I didn't even get a single edamame at dinner, after all. I pushed a kitchen chair over to the counter and struggled to pull myself up. Standing on the chair, I could see the countertop easily and I pulled a cookie from the package."Oh.. oh, these are so good," I said to myself aloud as I crunched. The cookie was gone too quickly... they tasted heavenly, just simply amazing, and on an empty stomach it was possibly the best tasting thing I had ever had ever. April wouldn't mind if I had one or two more..."Ugh, I dropped my keys under the car seat and it took forever to find them, sorry swee.. KIMMY!" April turned the corner and caught me with my mouth full of my tenth cookie. After that third one, I just couldn't stop.. they were so good."I... um.. I was only going to have one, but I was hungry! It's not my fault!""Kimberly. Morris. You just ate almost an entire package of cookies instead of dinner, half an hour before your bedtime. I... you know what?" April was really mad. I sat down on the chair, my ankles barely hanging over the giant seat."I'm sorry," I said, looking down."You have no idea how sorry you're going to be," her voice sounded sad. I looked up in terror... that didn't sound like April! What was she going to do? Oh, why did those cookies have to be so good?!"You, Kimberly Morris, don't know what's good for you," she said flatly as she carried me into the nursery, "Tonight is not going to be fun. You're going to end up going to bed late and you're going to make my night very hard. I am not happy about this.""I didn't mea-", I was cut off by the pacifier, she pumped it and I was silenced. She stripped me of my clothing and was about to slip a tattletale diaper under me when I sat up on the changing table. I made a pleading gesture with my hands and whined."Your regular diapers aren't going to be able to hold what those cookies are going to do to you, Kimmy. Those are a sometimes treat because if you eat too many, it will wreak havoc on your digestion. You just signed yourself up for a very unpleasant night, sweetie. I'm hoping that tonight will serve as a good lesson for you, I won't even have to punish you - you punished yourself."I relaxed a bit at this, she laid me back down and continued."You are a Little, no matter what you think, you don't know what's best for you. You are constantly getting yourself into these awful situations because you make decisions as if you understood everything that was going on. When you find yourself in a situation like this... an open package of cookies in the kitchen, no mommy around.. ask yourself, 'Would mommy let me do this?' If the answer is no, you shouldn't be doing it. Do I make up arbitrary rules to make you miserable?"I shook my head no as tears welled up in my eyes from the lecture. She taped the awful tattletale diaper around my waist and sat me up."You also need to ask yourself, 'What would a good Little do here?' I think we both know a good Little wouldn't sneak a cookie, don't we."I nodded as she held me close."Kimmy, I really wish you hadn't done this to yourself. Tonight is not going to be pleasant. Let's go watch some TV until this is done. I expect you to work hard to control your emotions, your bedtime is looming and we both know you get erratic when it gets late."I mimed, "Cold!" as she started to lift me from the table. I didn't want to spend the evening in just this awful diaper."No, Kimmy - we're not running any risks, you don't get a shirt tonight."April moved the coffee table out of the way and sat me down on the floor in front of the couch where it had been.--I hated those chocolate cookies now with every fiber of my being. The pain had been staggering, and by the time I was done the tattletale diaper had me completely lifted off the ground, just my heels reached the floor. I had to sit in that, sobbing until April was sure my tummy was done. It was 8:30 by the time the bath was done, and I was a crying wreck."My poor sweetie, I'm so sorry this happened to you. You're all clean, it's over, everything's okay.""Everything's not okay!" I screamed at April, "That was awful! Why would anyone make a food that would do that to someone! Why would anyone make those awful diapers? I couldn't move, I was trapped in it, it was awful! Amazons are awful!"April just hugged me tightly and rocked me while I screamed my rage at the world. When it was done I was beyond exhausted and I realized she was humming softly as she held me. I sniffled as she carried me to the nursery and she dressed me in a nighttime diaper and a soft pair of white footed PJs... no mittens, no back zipper, just a simple outfit."Today was one heck of a day, wasn't it, my little Kimmy?" I lay limp as she settled me down in the crib and tucked me in, laying Harry Otter at my side and stroking my cheek. I knew I should feel awful for what I said, but I didn't, and now I was laying in a crib, in a diaper. "You were very clever today in the store. I'm sorry you had such a hard time. I hear that things feel unfair, and it's okay to be angry. I want you to know that I love you with all my heart, no matter how you feel. I will always love you, Kimberly."She stroked my back gently... I was so exhausted from the day that I dropped off to the sound of her soothing tones. Part 20I awoke in the crib, my nighttime diaper was already soaked."Oh no, not that too!" Today was off to an awful start. I tried to empty my bladder, just in case since I'd be getting a morning change anyway.. but nothing came. I really did have a nighttime accident."Oh Kimmy," April sighed, walking in, "I was hoping you'd feel better after a good night's sleep. I really want to try and have a good day today, sweetie.""I had an accident," I explained, but it came out more like a whine."Of course you did, sweetie - I change you every morning.""No.. April, I mean I had a real accident. I didn't wet the diaper on purpose, I woke up wet... " I refused to cry this early in the day. I spent entirely too much time crying or letting my emotions run away with me."Oh sweetie," April said in a pitying tone as she lifted me up and held me close, "My poor Kimmy, that must be very upsetting for you. I am so sorry, Kimmy. It's okay, I'm here for you."I felt April's arms wrap around me and I closed my eyes. I could feel sadness welling up inside me, but I felt like I could handle it from where I was. April understood me. She wasn't dismissing my feelings, she wasn't minimizing them, she was just comforting me. I felt so loved in her arms, I wished I could stay right here forever."I love you," I said softly, my emotions under control again. I was sad... but it seemed inevitable. I was going to have an accident eventually... Melanie was even untraining herself completely. I wasn't going to see a toilet as long as I was here, this was not the worst thing ever. I sighed and soaked in April's warmth."I love you too, my darling," she gave me a final squeeze before laying me down for the morning change. "How about we make things easy with just a PJ day today?" she asked rhetorically, I didn't pick my clothes after all.. I didn't know what the plans were for the day, I didn't know the weather.. I... I couldn't make the best choice. But I could trust April to make the best choice for me. I got the expected daytime diaper, and she dressed me in footie PJs that made me look like a sloth.. complete with mittens that I could pull on and off on my own and a little tail. It was baggy, you couldn't even tell I had on a diaper underneath. I mean.. it was very childish, I looked every bit like a Little... but it wasn't showing off my diaper to the world. April was pretty good about making sure my undergarments were hidden, for which I was very thankful. She carried me over and stood me in front of the floor-length mirror in the hall."I'm a sloth!" I raised my arms in victory and danced around. April laughed and clapped."You are the cutest sloth ever," she said, "Now, make your best sloth sound for me! What does a sloth say?"I opened my mouth... and paused. She tricked me!"Hey!" I said with mock indignation. April laughed and scooped me up, tossing me into the air and catching me once before snuggling me close."There's my Kimmy," she rubbed her nose against mine while holding me aloft. I giggled at the feeling.. I felt weightless and loved. I was flying and perfectly safe... April would never let anything happen to me. "You need to pick out what toys you want to take over to Melanie's house tonight. I'm going to be dropping you off after lunch, Lisa said she had a surprise dinner for you.. she promised you'd like it, so it's not baby food. I'll pick you up in the morning. I think we'll spend the morning playing music, after your overnight bag is packed. How does that sound?""Wonderful," I said with a smile. I grabbed my activity book.. I'd still only done one page in it, and it wasn't even quite done yet. And Harry Otter, I couldn't go without him. And my box of crayons. I set them on the coffee table and looked around. The brain toys were still in the playpen, but those were a solo activity... I wandered into the nursery and looked around for something that would be fun for both Melanie and me, and settled on an electronic toy that looked similar to a memory game back home. I carried that over to where I had set the book, the crayons, and Harry."April!" I called, not seeing her, "Can we give some tattletale diapers to Melanie? I think she'd like them. Can I take my ukulele?""Oh, that's a good idea sweetie - we'll give her a few since you're probably never going to go through that whole pack. Lisa will think it's funny and I bet Melanie will like it too. No, sweetie - you can't take your ukulele, it should stay here. We'd hate for something to happen to it."April came up behind me and packed my choices into the puffy pink and purple diaper bag."Let's get some breakfast and have some fun," she smiled as she scooped me up, tickling me as she carried me all the way to the kitchen. I squealed helplessly and kicked my feet, laughing and loving every minute of it.--Since I was going to be at Lisa's overnight and April wasn't going to move the carseat, I got a rare treat - I was going to get to walk to the door, just like Melanie got to walk to our door! I had my white velcro shoes on with my cute cute sloth PJs, and I felt a little giggly. This was going to be fun. I held on tightly to April's hand, I had to reach very high to make it comfortable for her to walk with me, but it was either me wrench my shoulder a bit, or her hunch over. Walking hand in hand wasn't practical after all, that was minorly disappointing. I had a momentary daydream of April and I, the same size, walking hand in hand through a park at sunset. It made me smile. Walking to the stairs proved difficult. Walking UP the stairs was Herculean. With each stair, I had to pull hard against April's grip and hoist myself up, every stair felt like it was about half my height. And solid concrete is too rough on the skin, I can't crawl up it. After what feels like a very long workout, we arrive at the front door to the apartment building. I'm a little short of breath, I haven't been in the habit of exercising lately."Whew," I panted, "We made it." April glanced back to the parking lot, she got a really good spot, we were right next to the building. For her this was maybe 30 paces."You did great, sweetie!" April says encouragingly, "I knew you could do it!""Yay!" I raise my hands in victory, "Let's go see Lisa!""Okay, we just have to go up to the third floor where her apartment is.""Third... " I looked back at the half-flight of stairs I had worked so hard to scale to get to the entrance of the building. The thought of doing that six times over was staggering. I looked up into April's encouraging eyes, "Will you carry me please?""Of course I will, sweetie - any time you want," and within moments I was in her arms and we were climbing the second flight of stairs like it was nothing.April didn't keep me from walking out of a sense of control or a desire to deny me my freedom, she would happily let me walk anywhere it was safe, regardless of how long it took me to get from Point A to Point B.. she carried me everywhere because she loved me and didn't want to see me struggle. This world really wasn't built for people my size.. and I needed to let April love me, and help me. I snuggled into her arms and felt the rhythm of her gait. This was the best place in the world... right in these arms.

I am in the situation that I like wearing diapers and I am part time incontinent. For need I do not have to wear diapers 24/7. But I like to wear and wet diapers so much I decided some weeks ago to wear and wet diapers 24/7. As far as I can say now is that it is a great experience. I still love it. I still love to wear diapers. Especially when it is soaked and a little bit cold. I know that a lot of people think that this is crazy but what should I do if I really like it? I think I am not able to stop this because of my desire.