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Chapter 109: Throw “YEAH? I NEEDED to get back here in time?” I said, feeling exposed and embarrassed in front of my former nest mother right then. “Well, you’re here, and I’m in luck that I get to change a much prettier Little than I usually do!” She picked me up before I could warn her about me probably leaking but quickly carried me to a small changing room on the first floor I didn’t know existed. She used one hand to unfold a disposable changing pad. She placed it on the metal changing table and laid me on it. “You soaked through your onesie and skirt,” she said as she flipped it up. “Here, sit up for a second,” she told me. I rolled upward, and a second later, she pulled the jumper over my head and then the onesie to leave me only in the sagging and soaked diaper. “Umm… what am I going to wear?” I asked her nervously. “Don’t worry, we keep a few spare things in here for this type of emergency,” she assured me. “Let’s get you out of that soggy diapee first, though!” I really felt that Lilly did a better job of changing my diapers. However, Mackenzie was still better than several changers I’d had. She was gentle, wiped me thoroughly, and dressed me in a spare diaper from my backpack. “You don’t have a spare outfit in there, do you?” I blushed, “I used it this week already?” “That’s fine, we’ll just use a spare shirt here,” she told me. I watched her dig through a bin for a moment before coming out with what looked like a simple pink sweater at first. Once she pulled it over my head, I realized the arms had several rows of ruffles by the wrist. Even with the top being too large, it barely covered much more than the top of my diaper! “Sorry, no leggings or pants; we’ll just have to get you up to your nest. You’re wearing a diaper anyway,” Mackenzie told me as if that excused my nude legs! “Let’s just get up there quickly?” I asked. She smiled, picked me up, bounced me up and down, and then carried me out of the room. The temperature in the lobby area felt like it dropped thirty degrees from an open door to the outside. Several other Littles were coming from a common area on the first floor then and seemed to all stare for a second before looking away. I blushed and felt like my face was probably as hot as the sun! Fortunately, the elevator trip, plus her long legs, had me to my new nest pretty quickly. “Hi Mackenzie! Did you catch a stray of mine?” “This fish wasn’t in the water, but I thought I’d bring her to you?” “Thanks! Looks like she had a wardrobe issue - what did you do with her wet clothes?” “Here,” she said, handing her a clear bag. “I almost just put them in the laundry chute, but since you kidnapped her from me, I figured we’d make sure they knew the clothes belonged to your nest.” Mackenzie hugged me, “It’s good to see you, Carly! I’ll make sure I get down here to see you some other time. Be good for Miss Lilly!” She placed me on the ground, patted my exposed diaper, and walked out. Lilly giggled at me, and I noticed Ava and Mia looked like they couldn’t decide whether to laugh at me or feel bad. For my part, I just walked to my stuff and found a pair of black leggings. It wasn’t worth changing the top in my mind when I’d be putting on pajamas in a little bit. I had to admit with leggings on to cover my bottom half, I was pretty comfortable since the borrowed top was really soft! I found myself working on homework and trying to get ready for one of my first tests that was coming up on HoloTheory the next day. I had a good, solid grasp of all of the material so far, but I wanted to review all of the new terms and jargon that were used in the class. By the time I’d also done some brief studying for my intelligence class and math, it was nearly three hours after I’d returned. I stood up to walk to find Lilly for a needed diaper change before calling it a night! BETH WAS BLUSHING as she entered the dorm. She quickly sucked her coat off so she didn’t have to worry about anyone wondering about it. She folded the wet spot inside after taking a quick sniff and noting there was a residue of Carly on it. She groaned, and Nikki gave her a little smirk as she traveled up the stairs to the dorm. “Why don’t I take your coat? I’ll wash it at my apartment tonight?” “I can just put it in the laundry here?” Beth started to say. “You know the laundry is analyzed, right?” “Huh?” Nikki shook her head, “You’re so smart on some things, kid…?” “What do you mean?” “Someone about fifteen years ago figured out when they installed the auto laundry features for the dorm that they could also be clever and make sure no one was hiding bedwetting from them?” “You mean…?” “Yes, if you have any clothing in the wash that has a too-high urine concentration, you’ll be closely watched.” With a sigh, Beth handed her the coat, “Thanks for washing it then…” “Do you have another in case it doesn’t dry tonight?” Beth nodded, “It’s supposed to be a bit warmer tomorrow anyway, so I would probably have switched to a different one anyway.” “Good,” she told her. “This date tomorrow?” Beth blushed and smiled at the same time, “Yes?” “Would you mind if I triple-checked Carly’s plans? I don’t want to overstep, but I also want to make sure it’s a safe trip for you.” She did indeed feel a bit smothered by that but nodded anyway. “Sure, it seems like she did a decent amount of work trying to plan it already?” “I’m sure she did, knowing her family. No need to risk her missing something, though!” “Fair enough,” she said. “You’re not going anywhere else for the night?” Beth shook her head, “I have a test tomorrow in calculus I need to finish studying for.” “Okay, I’ll see you in the morning then,” she told her. “See you tomorrow,” Beth said, closing the door behind her and latching the deadbolt shut. She sighed, squeezing herself in a little hug, then changed into a comfy pair of pajama pants and a light purple top with a circuit diagram on it. Lance had given it to her for Christmas, and she appreciated its nerdiness. Dressed more comfortably, she pulled out her tablet and the review guide that her professor had kindly provided their class for the test the next day. She was about to the point of screaming about one problem when her phone suddenly rang. She stood, found it, and when she saw it was her mom, she answered with the holoprojection function, placing it on the desk in front of it. “Hi, Mom,” she said. “How are you doing, Sweetie?” She shrugged, “Ready to throw my tablet of calc work into the wall?” “That sounds normal,” her mom laughed. “The only person I know who didn’t absolutely hate that class was your dad.” Beth shook her head, “Carly is just as bad!” “How is she taking everything?” “Huh?” “The fact she’s stuck as a girl?” Her mom said. “Oh, that…” “That? It was supposed to be a temporary thing for the film? Surely she’s a bit upset, at least, at being stuck as a girl? Your dad would have been devastated?” Beth nodded, “Carly is fine with it, Mom. Actually, she’s better than fine with it, I think.” Her mom gave her the stare that always felt like she was opening her brain up and stripping out the knowledge from it, “She wanted to be a girl?” Beth sighed, “Yeah, I think so?” “Well, what about your relationship now?” Beth shrugged, “Seems fine still?” “You’re okay with going out with a girl?” Her mom asked. “You never seemed like you had a thing for girls before?” Beth shook her head, “I don’t have a thing for girls in general; it’s just Carly?” Her mom cajoled her into more information as their conversation went on about things she would never discuss with her dad. Eventually, she made her excuses and said, “I need to finish studying; give everyone my love?” As the line cut, Beth felt more drained and relieved to have spoken with her mother. Looking at the clock, she decided to hit the restroom and resume her studying. When she was past the point of getting anywhere, she went to the restroom again to clean her face and brush her teeth before climbing into bed and being tucked in by Rachel, who seemed to suddenly appear at bedtime each night. “Good night,” Rachel told her as she turned off the lights. I WOKE UP the following day with a swim with Lilly and Mackenzie before finding my way to breakfast and classes. Computational Intelligence was interesting that morning. I made some notes on some ideas I wasn’t sure Mom knew about yet! Our professor was currently involved in some research that furthered Grandma’s work in the field, and she was making some impressive gains in how the AI chunked new knowledge. Her thinking patterns seemed to be heavily influenced by her own kids’ development, which I found kind of intriguing! I walked to my Holofield Theory class and crammed a few last minutes of studying before the room was packed. Our professor passed out the same style of tablet we’d taken our placement tests on that first week. I appreciated that I was given a smaller one than my neighbors, though! “You have the full class time for this exam. We can work with you if you need additional time, but in my experience, you either know this material or you don’t,” Professor Davis told us. I nodded. To me, this was more of a memory subject than a ‘work it out’ subject like math or programming. “Just one other note, due to some issues I’ve had before, I would ask that you please not leave the room until after you complete the exam. You’re welcome to go before I activate the test and come back if you need to use the restroom, but I’ll collect your tests otherwise if you need to leave.” I squirmed at that, wishing that going to the bathroom was even a realistic possibility for me! “Well, at least I can just go…” I thought to myself even as several girls excused themselves from class, and one boy then. My diaper was a little damp, but I was pretty sure it would hold up until lunch based on how little I’d drank that morning. “Okay, I’m going to activate your tests now; they’ll start when they return. Good luck!” Immediately, my screen lit up, and I began working on answering questions about a subject that would have sounded like gibberish to me a few weeks ago! BETH HAD SPENT the morning when she woke up doing some last-minute cramming. She’d even made Carly quiz her on a couple of formulas before leaving her at her first class and heading to her own. During her Logic class, she discovered there would be a project due in that class in another week as one of her five grades. Fortunately, it seemed straightforward and not too time-consuming! Her professor annoyingly went over time by a few minutes. Since she was sitting inside a row, there wasn’t a good and tactful way to leave until he finished! She was a little worried that Carly wasn’t waiting for her or at her classroom until she checked her message and realized she’d hurried to her next class to cram for her own test. “Everything okay?” Nikki asked her. “Yeah, just was a little nervous for a second that Carly wasn’t here. She has a test in her next class, though, so she hurried there to do some last studying.” “I don’t miss being in school,” Nikki told her as she walked beside her. Beth laughed, “Aren’t you basically back in school now since you’re with me all the time?” She looked up at Nikki, who made a cringing face like she’d smelled something bad. “Well, at least I’m not taking the tests?” “Don’t remind me!” Beth said. She had to appreciate that the chill of winter had taken a break that day. It wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been the past couple of weeks. “I wonder if this warm weather is going to last long?” Nikki asked as if reading her thoughts. Beth shrugged, “Not sure, I was thinking that though? It’s been frigid the past couple of weeks!” They didn’t have much more time to talk before Beth led them into Marconi Hall and down the hallway to the small lecture hall where her class was held. She took a quick moment to detour into the restroom first and thought, ‘I hope Carly’s diaper lasts through this class?’ Once she sat in her class, she took a moment to pull out her notes again for her calculus exam. When her professor began class, she couldn’t help but note that it would be a long day before they wrapped up! “Okay, don’t forget that we have a test next Friday in this class…” he droned on as Beth made a note in her calendar about yet another test in the next couple of weeks! ‘Classes don’t seem so bad at the beginning, but then they just start piling up tests and projects!’ she griped. Her calendar was filling up, and it was still several weeks until midterms! She checked her messages as she left class and was a little concerned that she didn’t see one from Carly. I WAS MAKING quick work of the exam as it went through everything from the absolute basics we’d started with. The first question asked us to describe the particles involved in the projection of just the images. A follow-up question began to ask how you would manipulate the particles, and things continued on in that manner for thirty questions. About question thirty-one, I checked and saw there were a total of sixty, so I was halfway done! I was completing question forty-eight a half-hour later about the proper way to orient the projector lenses when I felt my stomach rumble. ‘Hush, I’ll feed you after this,’ I said, figuring it was just hunger since lunchtime was coming. Question fifty-three was a more theoretical-based question and asked about the proper formula for calculating the intersection of the particles of light with the stasis field you needed to generate. Fortunately, I remembered the formula, so I was writing it with the stylus even as I felt my body give off a little bit of gas in a fart. “Gross!” I heard someone complain a row away. I blushed but continued to work. ‘I hate that I don’t have any control over anything now!’ I thought to myself. The only warning I had before something happened now was when my body would decide to crouch, seemingly on its own. ‘Hopefully, it holds off until after this test!’ I grimaced a moment after finishing the fifty-fourth question as my insides seemed to twist some, but then there was a sense of relief in my body. I finished fifty-six before I heard, “Did someone just poop themselves?” From a girl a couple rows back. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must remain quiet through this exam. I will not warn you again.” “Professor, how can we concentrate when there’s a poopy-pants here?” The girl pushed back. “Breathe through your mouth,” he suggested and glared at her. I pointed my eyes back at my paper, but not before noticing he looked straight at me with a sympathetic glance. “Can I at least change her diaper?” The girl asked. “I’m sure it’s not comfy for her, and it’ll at least move the smell away from us?” “I told you, no one can leave the room?” He said, and I sensed he was trying to make excuses. “She’s just a Little, I’ll change her behind your desk?” “I don’t…” I felt a nervous feeling in my stomach, but I also knew it was kind of rude to force people to smell my poopy diaper for the rest of the test. “Fine,” I said, “I have a spare diaper in my bag. Are you sure you want to?” I looked up at a tall brown-haired girl who smiled, “Sure!” The girl clambered down the steps and had me in her arms almost before I was ready. “By the way, I’m Harper,” she told me. “Carly,” I said quietly. She nearly pushed Professor Davis to move out of the way, and I was at least grateful the room had been set up like a regular lecture hall that day. That meant a large desk in the front of the room blocked the view of anyone seated in the rows. “Do you have a changing pad?” She asked me quietly as she sat me down. I blushed, but I dug through my bag and handed her the changing pad, a diaper, and some wipes. “Well, at least you’re a prepared little girl!” She patted my back, “Let’s get you out of that icky poopy diapee!” “Please keep quiet,” Professor Davis asked. “I’m just changing her diaper?” “Quietly,” he insisted. She shook her head and unfolded my changing pad, then laid me down on it before pushing the skirt up and out of the way. With a few pops, the onesie was opened up, and then she tickled my stomach for no reason. I fought back a few giggles, “Please don’t?” “Fine…” she said. “Don’t get your panties in a twist… oh, you won’t wear those,” she smirked. I couldn’t tell if she was being cruel or just trying to be funny… “Don’t quit your day job,” I groaned. A moment later, she pulled the tapes open and used the used diaper to scrape some of the muck off my butt. “Eew,” she complained a moment later, and I watched her use a baby wipe to wipe her hand up before resuming the cleanup on my bottom. She used quite a few wipes to gently but quickly clean me up. Satisfied, she rolled them up in the old diaper and taped me in the new diaper, buttoned my onesie, then sat me up and handed me the diaper. “Go throw your diapee away in the trash can and get back to your test, sweetie!” I wanted to gag as she handed me the balled-up diaper! I could see brown stains on it, and I did my best not to throw up as I walked it to a trash can by the door. I found my pack of baby wipes in my bag and wiped my hands with one before returning to resume my test. Thirty minutes later, I was grateful to have pressed submit and escaped the room from my classmates! I felt a little guilty as I passed by the trashcan and could clearly still smell the contents! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading!!!! Please press the 'Like' Button and leave me a comment! The real world is hitting hard right now, and I'm hitting a lot of hours at work beyond normal right now. I'm hoping to get to some more writing on this this weekend so I can get back ahead. I'm being beaten up by my stress enough that we'll see what happens. The good thing is at one post a week I do have 16 more weeks written already, but I would prefer to return to two a week. We'll see what happens, though... Thanks for your patience and understanding!

Sorry for the delay again. I guess I should not write checks that I can't cash when it comes to self-imposed deadlines on posting chapters that I have not even begun to write yet. I probably should have said in my first post for this story that there will be some strong language in this story at times. If I had to give this story a TV rating overall, it would be TV-M for language. Other than that, I would consider it SFW. Chapter 7 I woke the next morning to Rachael asking if I needed more morphine. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I nod yes. Rachael injected me with the syringe of morphine, and another syringe of the nausea medicine, and started my feeding tube. I turn to my left to see that both my parents are already here. My attention snaps back to Rachael saying, “Will, you have a busy day ahead of you, let’s go ahead and get you weighed and measured.” “OK,” I said. I started to slowly get out of bed and my dad was already by my side to get my I.V. situated and helped me to my feet. I felt a weakness in my legs and was struggling to move this morning more than in the past few days. My mom, seeing me struggle, asked, “Will, how do you feel this morning?” I said, “I just feel really tired and weak.” “I'm sorry you feel so bad, hopefully, the doctors at the Mayo Clinic will help you get better soon,” my Mom said. “I hope so too,” I said. We made our way to the nurse station and Rachael weighed and measured me. Before my dad could ask Rachael said, “Alright Will, you weigh a 112 pounds and are 5 foot 4 and ½ inches tall this morning;” pausing for a second, she said, “We should be getting you ready for transport in the next hour or two. I will come check on you in a little bit to flush your feeding tube and get you ready.” I slowly make it to my room with my parents on either side of me. I gingerly get back into bed as my mom plugs my I.V. pump back in for me. My mom turned to me and asked, “I was going to pack up all your belongings to bring to the Mayo Clinic with us so you don’t have to worry about it while being transported there. Is there anything other than your backpack and toiletries that I am missing?” “Besides my stuff on the table, that is everything,” I said. She said, “OK, I will make sure I have everything to bring to the other hospital for you.” I said, “Thanks, I'm going to go ahead and brush my teeth before you pack everything up.” I got back out of bed as my mom unplugged the I.V. pump again for me and slowly made my way into the bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth and as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed that my nails were very long. Looking in my toiletry bag, I found my nail clippers and was able to get my nails down to a manageable length. I sat on the toilet seat, pulled my socks out, and saw that my toenails were in need of trimming too, and decided to trim them while I was at it. I came back out of the bathroom to my mom waiting to help me back into bed. Once getting settled in bed I watched as my mom started packing all my belongings up. My dad then spoke up saying, “Will, is there anything in particular that you want to watch on TV?” “No, not really,” I said. My dad then said, “Sports Center it is then.” I lay in bed half-heartedly watching TV and dozing in and out of consciousness. Sometime later, I was alerted to Rachael walking into the room. “Alright Will, I’m going to flush your feeding tube and disconnect your I.V. to make it easier for being transported to the Mayo Clinic,” Rachael said. I nodded and watched her flush my feeding tube, disconnect my I.V., and throw everything away. Rachael then said, “Someone should be here soon to bring you downstairs to an ambulance for transport.” I said, “OK” “Will, I hope they find out what is going on and you get better soon,” Rachael said. “Me too, sorry about the whole bathroom and pain medicine incident the other day,” I said. In a serious voice, Rachael said, “Will, that was nothing to be embarrassed about, I have to deal with a lot worse and would not be a nurse if I could not handle it.” I said, “OK, thanks for looking after me.” “Certainly Will,” Rachael said with a smile. My mom then chimed in, ”Thank you, Rachael.” “No problem, I hope you all have a better week this week than last,” Rachael said. Around 15 minutes after Rachael left, an orderly came into my room pushing a wheelchair. He asked, “Are you William Gauss?” I said, “Yes.” “OK, I’m here to bring you downstairs for transport,” he said. I nodded and slowly started getting out of bed. My parents were already up and by my side. My dad hugged me and said, “We should be at the Mayo Clinic shortly after you get there. I love you.” My mom then hugged me and with a kiss on the cheek said, “I love you, sweetheart, we will see you in a little bit.” As I was sitting down in the wheelchair I said, “I love y’all too.” My parents both waved to me as I was being wheeled out of the room. The orderly wheeled to the elevator and we rode it down to the ground floor. He then pushed through the back of the emergency department to what looked like an exit. Waiting for me at the exit was a stretcher and a tall paramedic wearing a dark blue uniform with EMS patches on the shoulders of his sleeves. As the wheelchair came to a stop he said, “You must be William Gauss, my name is Matt and I will be your ride to the Mayo Clinic.” I nodded and he and the orderly helped me out of the wheelchair and onto the stretcher. As the orderly was leaving, Matt turned to me and said, “I’m going to strap you down so we don’t have to worry about you falling off the stretcher during transport.” I nodded and Matt processed to run a strap over my sternum, my waist, and then my thighs. Matt then said, “You're all set, let's get you loaded up for transport.” He pushed me through the double doors and out into the bright Arizona sun. As my eyes adjust to the harsh light, I see the ambulance parked about 30 feet from the doors and a short Latino man also wearing a paramedic uniform walking towards us. As he met up with us he said, “My name is Ernesto and I will be your driver today.” They both loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance and as it was pushed all the way in I could hear and feel what must have been it locking into place. As Matt was getting into the back to sit beside me, Ernesto said, “We should have you at the Mayo Clinic in about 30 minutes, if you need anything let Matt know.” He closed the back doors and a few seconds later I could hear what must have been the front driver door opening and closing. Moments later I could feel the ambulance start moving forward. Matt turned to me and said, “Do you prefer to go by William or Will?” I said, “Will is fine.” “Alright Will, just relax and we will have you there in no time,” he said. Nodding, I relaxed my body against the restraints and let my mind wander as I felt the movement of the ambulance and the sound of the tires against the road. Sometime later, I felt the one thing that I didn’t want to feel on this trip, I had to poop. Thinking to myself ‘CRAP!’ as I turned my head to Matt. I asked, “How much longer until we get to the Mayo Clinic?” Matt said, “About 10 more minutes, is there something wrong?” “I have to go to the bathroom really bad,” I said. Matt then said, “Try and hold it if you can but if you have an accident it will be OK.” I nodded but turned my full attention to holding back my bowels. The minutes seemed to drag on as I put all of my energy into clenching my butt cheeks together. I felt the ambulance turn and with that motion, some poop slipped out; moments later the battle was lost as I felt my body force the rest of my bowels out. I could feel it spread out all over my bottom, moving up my lower back, forward in my underwear covering my genitals, and down my thighs. I turned to Matt with flushed cheeks and said, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold it.” Matt gently placed his hand on my shoulder and with a look of concern and pity, he said, “It’s OK Will, as soon as we get to the hospital, we will help you get cleaned up.” I nodded but looked away in shame, as I lay in what felt like a gallon of pluff mud and smelled like a paper mill. A couple of minutes later, I felt the ambulance come to a stop, and moments later, Ernesto was opening the back doors. Matt hopped out the back and they both pulled the stretcher out of the back of the ambulance. Matt took over and quickly pushed me into what I imagine is the ambulance entrance to the emergency room at the Mayo Clinic. As we make our way through the double doors into a hallway, we are met with an average-height Latino woman with shoulder-length hair, in gray scrubs. With a smile, she approached us and said, “You must be William, my name is Rosie and I will be your nurse.” I just nodded and looked down at my lap. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Matt gesture to Rosie and they both stepped away to have a quiet conversation. A few moments later, Rosie walked back up to me and said, “OK Will, Matt, and I are going to take you straight to your room on the stretcher, once there, I will help you out of your clothes so you can take a shower.” I just nodded and continued to look at my lap. A second later, Matt was pushing the stretcher and following Rosie down the hallways. After a few turns and trying my best to avoid eye contact with passers-by, we arrived at an elevator. We got on the elevator and luckily it was only the three of us, but in the enclosed space, the smell was back with a vengeance. A minute later we were off the elevator and going down another hallway. After passing what I assume is a nurse’s station, I was wheeled into a room. Matt immediately started undoing the straps, while I saw Rosie place what looked to be a large incontinence bed pad on the floor beside the stretcher. Rosie and Matt then helped me off the stretcher to stand on top of the pad. Rosie said, “Matt, at the nurse’s station, is cleaning supplies and you can throw the fitted sheet away there.” Matt said, “OK, Will, I hope you feel better soon.” Matt rolled the stretcher back out of the room and shut the door behind him. Rosie then turned to me and said, “Will, your clothes are a lost cause so I’m going to cut them off of you and then help with a rough cleanup before letting you take a shower.” In a quiet voice, I said, “OK.” Rosie took some scissors out of her pocket and then cut the pants leg of my sweatpants from the waistband all the way down to the cuff. My pants were discarded in a pile between my legs and then she did the same with my underwear. She grabbed a bunch of large wet wipes and then began to wipe down my back, butt, legs, and embarrassingly my genitals too. She let my hospital gown fall back to my knees again and then said, “Let's go into the bathroom so that you can get into the shower.” I followed Rosie into the bathroom with flushed cheeks and she started the shower, then said, “Alright Will, there is soap and shampoo in the shower already, towels and washcloths are right here,” pointing to the towel rack beside the shower, “you can leave your gown on the floor and I will have another gown and socks for you on the counter waiting for you by the time you are done.” I nodded with my cheek still flushed from what was one of the most embarrassing moments of my adult life. Rosie walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. I immediately stripped out of the gown and threw it on the floor, then pulled my socks off and threw them on top of the gown. Testing the water with my right hand, I stepped into the shower once the temperature was warm enough. I let the water cascade down my body as I watch as slightly brown water goes down the drain. Once the water was relatively clear, I took a washcloth and soap and scrubbed my body thoroughly from the neck down. Once the soap was rinsed off, I turned the water off and grabbed a towel to dry off. Stepping out of the shower, I see that Rosie has left the new gown and socks on the counter. I put the gown on and struggled to tie the ties in the back. After finally getting the gown on right, I sit on the toilet seat lid to put on my socks. I stepped out of the bathroom to see that my parents made it here. My dad walked up to me with a pair of folded pajama bottoms and underwear, and said, “Well, I always said you were full of crap when you were a teenager, but I never meant literally.” My mom quickly shouted, “George!” Smiling at my dad trying to make light of an embarrassing situation, I said, “I'm surprised that my eyes haven’t turned brown yet.” With a chuckle, he handed me the pajamas and underwear, and I turned back around to head into the bathroom. Closing the door, I slipped on the underwear and as I was trying to guide my feet into the pajamas, I lost my balance. Like a sack of potatoes, I landed straight on my left shoulder and yelled out in pain, “MOTHERFUCKER!” As I am lying on the floor in pain, my dad comes rushing into the bathroom. “Will, are you alright!” my dad said in a scared voice. In an angry voice, I said, “Yeah, I just lost my damn balance trying to get dressed.” “Let me help you and get you into bed,” my dad said. My dad then put a hand under each of my armpits and lifted me from the floor to my feet. He then helped me pull my pajama bottoms up to my waist. We walked out of the bathroom with my dad having one of his arms wrapped around my torso, guiding me to the bed. Looking at the bed, I see that the covers are pulled back and there is an incontinence pad lying over the fitted sheet. Thinking to myself, ‘I guess they don’t want to chance it after my grand entrance,’ I get into bed and pull the covers over me, hearing a slight crinkle from the pad as I shift around to get comfortable. I looked around the hospital room and saw that it was not much different than the room at St. Luke’s. The room is a little bigger, and there is a couch that is up against the windows to my left, a recliner directly to my left that my mom is sitting in, and a straight-back chair to my right. As my dad was taking a seat on the couch, my mom said to me, “Will, I know you are not having a good day today. I just wanted to let you know that I called the math department and spoke to someone named Amy. I let her know what was going on and that you were at the Mayo Clinic. She said that she would talk to all your professors and let them know. She also told me not to worry about your assistantship either. Depending on how long it takes for you to get better, she said that we could do a medical withdrawal and you can return either this summer or fall if need be.” With a sigh of relief, I said, “OK,” pausing for a second, I asked, “What are you doing about work?” “I’m taking PTO right now, but if I have to, I can file for FMLA and get up to 12 weeks off. But don’t worry about me and since your father retired early last year, we plan on staying here until you are better. I already got Stanley to check on the house for us and get the mail. Just worry about you right now. OK,” my mom said. “OK,” I said. A few minutes later, Rosie walked in carrying a bag of fluids, a bag for my feeding tube, and a couple of syringes. Setting everything down on a small table to my left, she said, “Will, I’m going to start your noon feeding and start you back on fluids. How are your pain levels right now?” “The morphine is starting to wear off and it probably doesn’t help that I fell on my shoulder early,” I said. With a look of concern, she said, “You fell, what were you doing to fall?” I said, “I was trying to get dressed and lost my balance.” She then said, “I will be right back,” and walked out of the room. A minute later, Rosie was walking back in. “Will, with you falling earlier, I am going to have to classify you as a fall-risk patient. Can I see your left hand?” I held out my left hand and Rosie put a bright yellow plastic bracelet around my wrist with the words ‘FALL RISK’ written boldly on it. Rosie then said, “Please make sure someone is with you anytime you need to get out of bed. If your parents are not here, please press the call button and someone will be here as soon as possible.” I said, “OK.” Rosie then turned to my parents and said, “Please make sure you help Will with getting dressed, or me or another nurse could help. We do not want him to get hurt.” My mom responded, “Of course, his father will help from now on.” Rosie turned her attention back to the table of supplies and started to hang the I.V. fluid bag and feeding bag. She hooked the fluids to my I.V. and connected the feeding bag to my feeding tube. She then took the two syringes and injected them into my I.V. After throwing the two empty syringes away, Rosie said, “Your team of doctors should be seeing you in a couple of hours. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.” On that note she walked out of the room and with the morphine taking full effect, I fell asleep. I woke up to my mom lightly shaking my shoulder and saying, “The doctors are here to see you.” I look at the foot of my bed and see three doctors. The first one is a woman who looks to be in her late thirties with long blonde hair and blue eyes. The second doctor is a tall man in his early forties, that looks to be Indian with short black hair and brown eyes. The third doctor is a short man with balding brown hair and brown eyes, that looks to be in his fifties. The Indian doctor spoke first and said, “I’m Dr. Kutner and I specialize in diagnostic medicine.” Pointing to the woman on his right, he said, “This is Dr. Cameron and she specializes in autoimmune diseases.” Pointing to the man on his left, he said, “And this is Dr. Taub and he specializes in genetics.” Dr. Cameron then asked, “Will, we have been reviewing your case and would like for you to go over your symptoms with us again.” I then spend the next ten minutes going over all my symptoms and what has happened to me over the past week. Dr. Kutner then said, “I'm going to do a physical exam of you, is that alright?” I said, “Sure.” He proceeded to listen to my heart and lungs and poke and prod all over my body. At the same time, Dr. Taub turned to my parents and said, “You all must be Will’s parents?” My mom responded, “Yes I’m Elana, and this is his father, George.” Dr. Taub said, “I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances, but it is nice to meet you all.” Dr. Kutner, now finishing his exam, stepped back and said, “Will, I not seeing anything abnormal in your physical exam and your lymph nodes feel normal which confirms that we are still most likely not dealing with an infection.” My dad asked, “What is the plan for figuring this out?” Dr. Kutner said, “We plan on drawing some blood samples today to begin running tests. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for Will. He will have a full body CT scan and X-ray done, to see if anything changed since his last. He will also have an MRI of some key areas of his body and I will be performing a biopsy on a few of his joints tomorrow afternoon.” Dr. Cameron followed up with, “With the blood samples, I will start looking at other types of autoimmune diseases that Dr. Wilson could have missed and with tomorrow's tests, could shed light on which direction we should be looking in.” “With one of the blood samples, I will start sequencing Will’s DNA, and see if there are any genetic abnormalities that pop up. Hopefully, if there is anything to find, we can find it quickly, but with how large the human genome is, it could take some time,” Dr Taub said. “I will be supporting both Dr. Cameron and Dr. Taub, but I also will be exploring other avenues in trying to diagnose what is causing your symptoms. Do you have any questions?” Dr. Kutner said. I said, “No.” “Get some rest, Will, we will see you tomorrow,” Dr. Kutner replied. As they were walking out of my room, my mom said, “I feel better already after meeting the doctors.” My dad then said, “Yeah, it seems like they have a game plan together and are attacking this from all angles. How do you feel, Will?” I said, “Better, I still hope they figure this out quickly.” A moment later Rosie walked in carrying a caddy of empty vials, and what looked to be a needle and tourniquet. Walking over to the right side of my bed, she sat the caddy on the bed beside me and said, “Will, it seems that the doctors want a lot of blood samples, I’m going to draw blood from your right arm, OK.” I nodded and held out my arm and Rosie tied the tourniquet around my upper arm and began to draw vial after vial until the whole caddy was full of blood samples. After throwing the used needle and tourniquet away, Rosie said, “That should be the last of the blood samples that they would need today. I will be back at 6 to start the last of your feeding for the day and give you more morphine if you need it. Let me know if you need anything else before then.” Rosie walked out of my room with the caddy in hand and it did not take me long to fall back asleep. I woke up twice before the night, one to go to the bathroom with the help of my dad, and the other to get more morphine and the last feeding of the day. I fell back to sleep shortly after getting the morphine. I woke up to it being dark outside and my joints screaming in agony.

After the highly embarrassing episode in the escape room Sam is in desperate need for a change. Thankfully there is someone on hand to help her out. --- My writing is my passion and my income. I'm only able to write as much as I do because of the wonderful support from my subscribers. With the ABDL purge on Patreon hurting my income dramatically I have set up a couple of alternatives. If you enjoy my work and want to support me there has never been a time where I need it more. For $5 you can see every update to my stories one week before anyone else and for $10 you get early access PLUS access to 50+ stories EXCLUSIVE to subscribers. There are other rewards and tiers available including discounted commissions. To find out more please consider visiting one of my subscription sites. Prices, rewards and everything else are the same across both https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy Thank you for reading and supporting me and my work ❤️ --- “What’s that smell?” One of the children with one of the other groups asked loudly. The room fell quiet as people sniffed the air. Sam was going red and she wished they could just leave. It seemed like Nina was about to steer her towards the exit when a woman in a Midforest uniform appeared in front of them. “I know that smell.” It was Karen. Sam looked up and saw the older woman looking down at her, “Come on, we can get you cleaned up before you go.” “N-No!” Sam stuttered. Sam already knew that Karen didn’t particularly think much of Sam’s opinion. Before anyone could react Sam had been hoisted into the air and held against Karen’s chest, she didn’t need to be able to see behind her to know her skirt had lifted up and was showing the sorry state of her diaper to anyone who looked her way. Sam struggled. She didn’t want to be changed by Karen again. They were finished with the activity and could just go home where she could clean up in peace and, most importantly, alone. She grunted and whined as she tried, without success, to pull herself free of Karen’s hands. “Wait!” Nina shouted. Sam was pressed against Karen’s chest and therefore couldn’t see what was happening. She did hear footsteps quickly run around to Karen’s front stopping the woman in her tracks. Sam was still squirming and trying to get put down. “I’ll take her.” Nina said firmly. Sam stopped wriggling and her eyes went wide. She never in a million years would have thought she would think this way but she really wanted Nina to change her diaper. If the alternative was Karen doing it then Nina it was clearly the better option. For once the idea of changing herself vanished. Sam seemed to just take it for granted that someone was going to do it for her. She couldn’t say she was wholly against the idea if it was someone she trusted. “I couldn’t make you do that.” Karen said, “From the smell of it this is going to be a tricky change. Not something a young woman like you should have to do. If you want to wait I’ll have her changed in just a few minutes.” “It’s not your choice to make.” Nina replied stubbornly. Sam didn’t know whether Nina was arguing for Sam’s body autonomy of if she was saying that she, Nina, was the one making that choice. Sam bit her lip and found that she liked the idea of her friend taking control of the situation like that. It felt like everyone else in the room had disappeared as a battle of wills developed. In truth, everyone was looking at Sam who was giving off the perfect picture of a little baby having her custody fought over by two women. “I’m happy to-…” Karen started. “Hand her over.” Nina said. Her voice brooked no argument. “If you insist.” Karen’s voice was slightly cold. Sam had never been so happy to be picked up by someone. Karen held her out and Nina took her with Sam reaching out her hands like a small child asking to be picked up. Instead of Nina’s chest Sam was sat on her hip. She could feel the poopy contents of her diaper shifting again but she could hardly get dirtier than she already was. Sam could see there were a lot of very confused people. None more so than her friends, Chrissy and Amy, who seemed to hardly believe the bizarre series of events they had witnessed. Despite the embarrassing situation Sam could hardly hide her smile as Nina adjusted her slightly. Sam noticed she was primarily looking at Karen though. “Come on, Sam.” Nina said as if Sam had any input in where she was carried. Nina turned away and carried Sam towards the bathrooms. Like each of the other places with toilets there was a dedicated changing room next to them and Nina was making a beeline towards that door. Sam looked back behind them and was faintly amused to see Chrissy haranguing Karen. “How dare you pick my friend up without asking!?” Chrissy was saying as Amy held her back, “If she wants your help she’ll ask! I’m going to report you to…” Sam didn’t hear any more as Nina carried her into the baby changing room and closed the door. It locked with a click and both Nina and Sam seemed to let out simultaneous deep breaths which then made them both laugh. Sam was expecting Nina to put her down as soon as they were in private but she was carried across to the changing table instead. Sam looked up at Nina with questioning eyes but Nina was smiling, she seemed to know what she was doing even if Sam didn’t. She reached down to the bottom of Sam’s rainbow shirt and after a small pause lifted it over her head. Sam raised her arms to make it easier for her. “You don’t mind me helping you?” Nina asked quietly. Sam shook her head. Far from minding it Sam was excited. With her shirt removed Sam slowly lowered herself down on to her back as Nina grabbed the waistband of her skirt and started pulling it down. Soon Sam was laying on the table in nothing but her heavily soiled padding. She was red in the face and found it hard to look at Nina. It seemed that by “helping” Nina meant she was going to do it all. Sam was surprised to feel very alright with that. Sam heard the tapes of the diaper pull away from the landing zone. The smell instantly intensified to near unbearable levels. The front of the disposable slumped down between Sam’s legs as Nina closed her eyes and looked away, it seemed to be less to do with what the inside of the diaper looked like and more to do with the stink. “Sorry.” Nina said in a strained voice, “I don’t want to make you feel bad, it’s just… wow.” “No, I’m sorry.” Sam replied in a rather dejected voice, “I should be able to do these things without embarrassing myself and you guys.” Sam was feeling rather sorry for herself again. Even if she was a bit more accepting that she was different than she had been at the start of the vacation she still felt that she was a horrible burden. Fortunately it didn’t take long for Nina to recover and start cleaning. Sam felt that mix of embarrassment and excitement that she always seemed to feel around Nina these days. The soft touch of her fingers as she used the wipes to clean her left a trail of tingles. “You’re allowed to breath you know.” Nina said with a smirk. It was only after Nina had mentioned it that Sam realised she had been holding her breath. She let out a deep exhale and laughed nervously. She didn’t think she could be blamed for not knowing how to handle such an odd situation. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this…” Sam said with a shake of the head. Nina simply smiled as she continued her work. There was a lot to clean up and Sam spent the whole time playing with her fingers and feeling like she should be doing something to help. She wondered what her other friends thought about all of this. She must seem like the biggest baby to them. “It’s actually not as bad as it seems.” Nina said as she gave Sam a last few swipes with a clean wipe and then pulled the soiled diaper away. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Sam replied. “No, I’m serious.” Nina shrugged as she taped the used diaper into a ball, “Once the initial surprise passed it was pretty easy. Something I could get used to.” Sam felt herself blushing. Was Nina talking about when she had her own kids or… “Right, I’ll just tape you into a fresh one and we’ll be ready to go home.” Nina said as she pulled a diaper out from under the table. It turned out the changing rooms at Midforest were all well-stocked for diaper changes. As Sam’s butt was lifted into the air she realised she could probably have told Nina this wasn’t necessary and that since they were going back to the lodge she probably didn’t need a fresh diaper. She also realised that she wasn’t saying anything and as she was lowered on to the fresh padding she felt content. A feeling that only grew as the diaper was pulled up between her legs and taped closed. It was a feeling of safety, a feeling that she didn’t have to worry about making it to the bathroom. With the new diaper in place Nina picked up Sm’s shirt and pulled it over her head. It seemed that Nina had taken everything into her own hands. She even helped Sam back into her skirt once she was off the table. “All set?” Nina asked once Sam was dressed. “I think so.” Sam replied. She looked at the door and grimaced, “What will the others think about… everything?” “I think they’ll just be happy that you’re OK.” Nina replied, “And you shouldn’t worry about anything. If they were going to be asses about any of this they would’ve done it by now.” “I guess so.” Sam shrugged, “It’s just not… normal.” “Normal is overrated.” Nina replied, “I’ll show you.” Sam was about to ask what Nina meant but she was already walking over and lifting her up. Sam yelped as she left the ground and clutched on to Nina’s wrists with her small hands. She gasped as Nina spun around and then held Sam on her hip like a child. Sam’s cheeks went pink as she tried to work out how she should react to any of this. “Most people would say it isn’t “normal” to pick up another woman and carry her around like this.” Nina said, “But you just watch me.” Sam was given every opportunity to tell Nina to stop but the increasingly confident woman’s control was intoxicating to Sam. She bit her lip as Nina unlocked the door then she stepped out into the lobby area. Sam saw that Karen and the other employees were still there, in fact, they were welcoming the next few groups who were going into the rooms. On the far side Amy and Chrissy were leaning against the wall. They definitely looked confused about what they were seeing as Sam was carried across the large room. “Ready to go?” Nina asked cheerily. It seemed that Amy and Chrissy were not as prepared to act like everything was normal as Sam and Nina were. To be fair to them, they had just seen their two friends, one of whom had massively pooped herself, disappear into the baby changing room and then come back out with one of them sitting on the other’s hip. It was even more unusual when compared with Sam’s usual disdain for anything even vaguely childlike. “Sure.” Chrissy said. She almost sounded defeated, like she had been trying to work out what had been going on and utterly failed to do so. --- If you want to find out what happens next you can do so RIGHT NOW at either of the following links: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/lplyymi677/chapter/8fd4aa8f-6392-477b-a352-81d409b477a9 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1262441

Well, yes. I'd like to thank both of you for your company and support along the way. I was going that way anyway, I'm sure, but it's made a big difference to know I wasn't doing it on my own, and that there were the two of you with a similar approach and family situation doing pretty much the same. It's now 5 1/2 years since I went full-time during the day, and 4 years since I went into nappies full-time at night as well. I still just love it, and I can't believe I've never regretted it for a minute.

I completely agree with BP on his very accurate quote, I understand how much work goes into writing stories/books and I don’t think that you should not be paid if the story is worth paying for, but a teaser or basically a advertisement for free is in bad taste, I actually have no idea how much money this type of thing would generate but I think at bare minimum you should consider a contribution to the site. Or the occasional free complete short story.

I'm back! Thanks y'all for being patient during my hiatus. 💜 It's a Briana chapter, and she's got a sleepover planned with all her Little friends. Exciting! 18 Sleepover It was a gorgeous spring Saturday in the Rasmussen house. The windows were open to let in fresh air and birdsong. The wood floor of the house’s great room glowed in the late morning light, freshly polished. From top to bottom, the house was immaculate, far more so than during a regular Saturday cleaning. This was mainly due to Briana’s and her Round Table's efforts. Briana paced in front of the stuffies lined up on the living room couch. One by one, she inspected the chore each stuffie had been assigned. · Knight Captain Alanna: Responsible for beating the dust out of the rug – done. · Squire Beartholomew: Asked to put out a bowl of chips and a bowl of cut strawberries – done. · Sir Chuck the Giraffe: Charged with dusting the furniture – done. · Sir Mimsey the Bat: Tasked with putting away toys and arranging throw pillows and blankets – done. · Sir Arnold the Pangolin: Trusted to put plastic glasses and a juice pitcher on the coffee table – not done! “Sir Arnold the Pangolin, I’m very disappointed you’re not finished with your job.” Briana shook her head at Arnold the Pangolin. “Luckily for Sir Arnold the Pangolin, your Princess is in a good mood. Plus, there’s still time before our guests arrive.” Briana snatched Arnold the Pangolin up and sprinted to the kitchen. Mindful of her pretty pouf dress with its lace overlay, she and Arnold the Pangolin took the glasses on the first trip and the pitcher on the second. The dress and lace were black, so the grape juice probably wouldn’t stain her if spilled, but it wasn’t worth the risk. She hadn’t spent her morning getting dolled up like a Little version of her gothy mom only to ruin it at the last minute. All chores were finished, and the snacks were ready. There was only one problem – no guests! Frustrated, Briana trotted across the hardwood floors in her brand new black and white Mary Jane’s. The clicky-clack noise her shoes made was enough fun that she didn’t feel like throwing a tantrum when she found Veronica – Briana was merely impatient. “Momma!” Briana hopped on the drawing room’s plush rug, which didn’t make a fun noise but had a delightful squish. Veronica was sitting primly in a black leather armchair with her laptop on her lap. She took an interminably long moment to finish whatever she typed before looking up. “Yes, Baby Bee?” “When’s Grandma going to get back? She’s been gone for ages.” “Michelle had three Littles to pick up, all living in different parts of town. I’m sure she’ll be back any minute.” Veronica smiled. “I’m glad you’re so excited, though. Did you finish all your chores?” “Barely! Arnold the Pangolin was sandbagging again.” Briana did a twirl for the joy of seeing her skirt flare out. Twirling was almost as fun as being at eye level with her mom. It only happened when Veronica was sitting or crouching down, which made it easy for Briana to stay in Littlespace around her mother. Two friends on their way were petite as well, though not as tiny as Briana. Nobody in the whole Graduate school was as tiny as her. Arthur was the opposite of Tiny, which made the ease with which he slipped into Littlespace impressive. Briana wondered if she should have Alanna commend him for it or if he’d be upset to have his size brought up. “Briana, are you listening to me?” Veronica had set her laptop aside and took Briana’s hands, pulling the Little girl into her lap. “Sorry, Mom, I was thinking about my friends. I can’t wait until they get here.” With a happy sigh, Briana leaned against her mom and tucked her head under Veronica’s chin. “I asked if you needed a change before they get here, but I can see you’re too distracted to notice.” Veronica flipped Briana’s skirt up and squeezed the Little girl’s diaper. “You’re dry, good girl.” It was funny how something that had used to bring Briana to tears – being diaper checked – had become such a comfort and reminder of Mom’s love. “Melody is going to play with us, too, right?” Briana squirmed until she had her arms around her mom and gave her a tight squeeze. “They said they would, so it’s a promise, and they have to play with us.” “I’m sure your sibling will happily play with you.” Veronica kissed Briana atop her head. “They said they were looking forward to it. But they won’t be here immediately, so don’t be disappointed. You’ll have plenty to do when Michelle returns with your friends anyway.” “Oh my gosh – I mean Goddess – it’s going to be so fun! Thanks for letting me have a sleepover, Mom.” Veronica got a funny look on her face when Briana invoked the Goddess. She always had a weird look when Briana brought up the one thing in her life that Briana hadn’t yet gotten to experience. This time, it was just a look instead of a swat or a frown. Mom even gave Briana a little squeeze. There could be no better time to ask Mom, especially after Briana had been such a good girl with her chores. “Momma, can I go with you to the next esbat?” “Not the next one.” Veronica put a finger on Briana’s lips to silence her whine. “April’s esbat is scheduled for the end of the month, during the dark of the moon. It’ll be one of our more serious ceremonies, and it won’t be a good introduction to the coven for anyone, especially a Little girl.” “But Momma!” “Let me finish. Beltane will be at the beginning of next month and the perfect time to introduce my bouncy, sparkly daughter.” “Really?!” Briana’s enthusiastic hug squeezed a grunt out of Veronica. “Mom, that’s super exciting! Can Melody come if I convince them?” “Only if they really want to come, and not if they agreed because you were badgering them.” “Melody loves me and you too; they’ll come.” Briana hopped off Veronica’s lap and did three spins in a row, giggling. “Thanks, Mom! I’m going back to the living room, so I’ll be ready when Grandma gets here.” “Don’t forget that your grandmother is in charge of your sleepover. Jane and I will be here, but you’d better not come to ask us for something she’s already said no to.” “Mom!” Briana’s exclamation of shock had little effect on Veronica’s knowing look. Reluctantly, Briana nodded. “That was only one time. But I promise I won’t. Okay, love you, momma. I’m going to watch the door now!” ~~~*~~~ Twenty eons later, or twenty minutes later – who’s to say – Briana heard a car pull up outside the house. An excited squeal burst out of her when the door opened, revealing Grandma and a train of bashful Littles. Grandma Michelle was dressed in a sturdy blue shift dress and looked downright vigorous; her health scare from Christmas seemed well behind her. Briana hugged Grandma, Arthur, Fabi, and Ava, adding a quick kiss to her girlfriend’s hug. They were all dressed Little, too. Arthur was in shortalls that looked like regular overalls that had been cut off and hemmed. He had a backpack over one shoulder and a stuffed tyrannosaurus under his arm. Fabi was in a purple, short-sleeved dress with a crazy amount of lace under her skirt. Her bag was an adorable teddy bear backpack – she had an elephant stuffie clutched in one hand. Ava wore a rainbow tie-dye t-shirt and lime green shorts that didn’t do much to hide her diaper. Her bag was a laundry bag – she looked like she was having trouble managing it, her crutches and her teddy bear Brownie all simultaneously. Briana took Ava’s bag, then Fabi’s and Arthur’s, to not to single her girlfriend out. With an oof from the weight, Briana set the bags by the stairs. “Hi everybody, thanks for coming to my sleepover! We have snacks and juice and anything you want; just ask.” “You’re all welcome to have some snacks, but don’t fill up.” Grandma guided the Littles into sitting positions on the living room rug. “I’ll have lunch for you in a few minutes.” “What’s for lunch?” Fabi asked. “Lefse! You’re going to love it. It’s potato flatbread with butter and sugar.” Briana bounced happily on her padded rear at the chorus of aahs from her friends. “I know you all kinda met at my birthday, but did you get re-introduced in the car if you needed to?” Briana asked. “I can do introductions! Or we can introduce our stuffies.” “We had a chance to talk in the car.” Arthur chuckled. “Your grandma squished us all into the back seat of her car,” Ava said with a giggle. “Also, Brownie has already met your stuffies, but he’d love to meet Athur’s and Fabi’s.” “This is Elle!” Fabi scooted up to Ava, shoving her elephant urgently toward Brownie. “Hi, Ellie,” Ava said for Brownie, waving his paw. “I’m Tommy,” Arthur said in the squeaky falsetto he used for his stuffed tyrannosaurus. Briana giggled and grabbed her stuffed Lioness. “Alanna knows Tommy and Brownie but is very pleased to meet Elle.” “Brownie is a kshatriya, which is kind of like a knight.” Ava declared. “Are Tommy and Elle knights like Alanna is?” “Of course, I’m a knight!” Arthur squeaked for Tommy before switching to his usual bass rumble. “Sorry, Tommy, but you know you can’t pass the qualifications.” With Athur’s help, Tommy had a stomping fit on the Little boy’s leg. “I think Elle can’t pass the tests or whatever either.” Fabi cuddled her elephant close. “She’s not into scary stuff like fighting.” “Then Brownie and Alanna will protect Tommy and Elle if needed.” Briana declared. In response, Ava grinned, scooting over to Briana to bump her hip against Bri’s. The sweet smell of potato pancakes followed Grandma out of the kitchen. Though she had food on the stove, Michelle managed to pour each Little a glass of juice and check their diapers. There were lots of blushy giggles in Grandma’s wake, especially from Ava. When the pancakes arrived, they were as delicious as they’d been the first time Grandma had made them. Savory, sweet, and buttery tastes filled Briana’s mouth with delight and her tummy with warmth. Besides the clinking of plates, the room was quiet as the Littles devoured their lunch. Briana cleared the lunch plates without being asked – because she was the best Little girl ever. While she was doing that, Grandma whisked Ava away for a diaper change, redoubling Ava’s blush. Briana plopped down on the floor between Arthur and Fabi, pulling them both into a hug. “I have to tell you two about something a bit scary that happened to Ava.” Briana was glad to see her friends responding with curiosity rather than nervousness. She had the mellowing power of Lefse to thank for that. “Ava and I were out together the other day and ran into some anti-ABDL protestors. One of them pushed Ava over and hurt her pretty badly.” “What?” Arthur’s jaw dropped, his expression struggling between Big rage and Little Concern. “Is she okay? I mean, she looks okay, but…” Fabi trailed off nervously. “She’s okay now, but it was terrifying; we had to call an ambulance.” Briana sighed. “Don’t make a big deal when she comes out, because she doesn’t like talking about it, but I wanted you to know that mean people are getting aggressive with Littles.” Arthur sighed. “Great, one more thing to deal with in town.” Fabi nodded. “So much for ever going out, now that I’m full-time Little.” “No! We can’t let them win. I have a plan to fix it; we’ll talk about it when Ava gets back.” “Talk about what?” Ava asked, maneuvering deftly on her crutches ahead of Grandma. Briana squirmed out from between her friends in time to pull Ava into a snuggle as she sat. “Fixing what happened to you the other day.” “That reminds me,” Michelle said. “Have you ever heard back from the police, Ava? I know Briana hasn’t.” Ava shook her head. “Not yet, but it’s only been a few days.” “Oh, that won’t do at all.” Michelle pulled her phone out of her purse. “You kids, go ahead with what you were doing. I’m going to give the police chief a call.” Arthur and Fabi looked at Briana in surprise. Before Briana could answer, Ava shrugged at them. “Her family just does stuff like this.” “My family and I have a lot of privilege in this town – and I’m going to put it to good use.” Briana squeezed Ava. “What happened to Ava is not okay. I don’t like seeing protestors or people talking badly about Littles. We’re not hurting anyone. They’re the ones harassing and hurting people.” “What are we supposed to do about it?” Arthur frowned. “It’s not like you can take away people’s right to protest. Even if they’re protesting for something mean.” “Of course not, but we can keep them from hurting people when they do it.” Briana thumped a fist on the rug. “And if we convince people that it’s okay to be Little, they’ll stop protesting alone.” “You’re talking about an activism campaign?” Ava scooted away from Briana, frowning. “Briana, I can’t even see my old friends; I can’t go on TV or whatever!” Fabi whimpered. Arthur kept quiet, but he looked as uncomfortable as Fabi did. “I’m not asking anybody in this room to do public stuff.” Briana looked up at Grandma with a smile. “Well, maybe Grandma. But mostly, it’ll be me and my aunt Kiara – she already said she’d help.” “Then you’re just – warning us that you’re going public about this?” The look on Ava’s face said that they would have to have a big conversation about Briana’s plan. That was okay. Briana knew that she could trust her girlfriend to understand once she explained things properly. “That’s part of it, but I could also really use your help! There’s tons of stuff to do that doesn’t involve showing your names or faces. I’ll need help writing letters, calling people, making lists of people to call, making flyers, keeping track of donations, and all kinda stuff.” “You’ve really thought about this.” Ava looked more thoughtful than uncomfortable – a good sign! “Wow, Bri, that’s a lot. You seem kind of like that day you, um – ran into me downtown and bought me cocoa.” Arthur smiled bashfully. “You mean when I was Big and you were Little? Well, I’m still Little, but I can do this! We don’t forget stuff when we’re Little, right? If anything, I think we understand stuff better.” “I just sit around most of the day when I don’t have a babysitter.” Fabi squirmed, her diaper crinkling. “It’d be fun to have something to do, but I’m not a good organizer.” “You could put letters in envelopes!” Briana grinned to see an eager smile on Fabi’s face. “Yeah, I could! Um, could I put cute stickers on them, or would that mess up the plan?” “That would be perfect!” Briana grinned, reaching out to grab Ava and Arthur’s hands. To her delight, Fabi took Arthur and Ava’s other hands. “We can do this Little-style! So, will you help me, please?” “Of course, we’re friends, right?” Arthur squeezed Briana’s hand. “I’m in for decorating and mailing stuff!” Fabi grinned. “It’s scary that you’re going to be publicly ABDL,” Ava sighed. “If you could be careful when you’re out with me, I’d really appreciate that. Even if it is scary – I’m in.” “Yay! Thank you, everybody! Especially you, Ava, for being super brave. I’ll be as careful as I can, I promise.” Ava rolled her eyes, though she was smiling from ear to ear. “You’re lucky I love you, Looney Tunes.” Briana’s giggle at what she hoped was a new nickname was short-circuited by the phrase immediately preceding the name. “You love me?” Ava ducked her head bashfully. “That just slipped out, but – I guess I do.” “I love you so much!” Briana tackled her girlfriend, giggling madly and kissing her all over her face. Ava laughed back, clinging to Briana until they settled into a loving hug. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” Michelle peeked into the back of Arthur and Fabi’s diapers, getting a squeak out of them. “Ava, I told the police chief that his inaction was disappointing. He knows at least some of the names of people that were protesting, but he didn’t want to bother them.” Grandma tutted disapprovingly at the police chief as she untangled Briana and Ava, checking their diapers in the process. “He’s motivated to bother them now. We should have a name and some charges for the person who pushed you soon, as well as a restraining order.” Ava sighed gratefully, leaning against Michelle’s leg. “Thank you, uh… Ms. Rasmussen?” “You can call me Grandma if you want, dear. All you darling kids can if you want. You’re Briana’s friends, after all.” She clapped her hands dramatically. “Now! You’ve got full bellies and dry diapers. Briana gave me a list of activities for the day, including a movie, a blanket fort, and playing Cloudland. Which would you like to do first?” “We can’t play Cloudland until Melody gets back.” Briana protested. “Then it’ll be one of the other two. We’ll let your friends pick. Ava, Arthur, Fabi, what’ll it be, couch fort or a movie?” “Blanket fort?” Arthur asked excitedly. “Yeah!” Ava and Fabi said together. “Then we need to get the coffee table moved to the side. Some rolled-up mattresses can go in its place. You kids get busy doing that while I get the sheets to drape between the couches.” “Got it, Grandma!” Briana grinned, tugging mightily – and uselessly – on the coffee table. With Arthur’s help, they got it moving smoothly enough that they didn’t spill any snacks. Fabi pulled mattresses into place while Ava rolled them out. The Littles were in a snuggle-pile on those mattresses with their stuffies only a few minutes later. Grandma stretched sheets from couch to couch, pinning them in place. She even put a pillowcase across the entrance between Mom’s armchair and a sofa, making a cute door flap. The inside of the fort took on a dreamy blue and green hue from the sun filtering through the sheets. “Fabi, get the snacks!” Briana fished an arm through the sheet-walls to pull the rest of her round-table into the fort. “This is so fun.” Arthur giggled. “I wish we could sleep under here tonight.” Ava nodded eagerly. “That is the best idea!” Briana kissed her girlfriend soundly on the cheek before looking up to shout at the sheet-ceiling. “Grandma, can we sleep in the fort instead of Melody’s room like we planned?” “You don’t need to shout, Little Rose. I heard you and Ava both just fine.” Grandma chuckled. “Ava’s idea is a great one. We’ll get your sleeping bags in there when it’s bedtime.” Resuming their cuddle pile, the Littles munched on chips and gave their stuffies a dance party. Briana was feeling extra snuggly regarding Ava after her girlfriend’s declaration of love. Happily, Ava was the same. They stayed spooned together every minute that they played in the fort. The sleepover was already the bestest fun since Briana’s birthday and promised to get even better when Melody arrived. Through all the snuggles and laughs they were sharing, Briana’s heart overflowed with love for all three of her friends. Protecting them and their magical time together was more important than ever. Briana couldn’t imagine the kind of person who could object to the fun they were having as Littles – but she knew they were out there. That’s okay! I’ll change their minds as quickly as Grandma changes my diapers!

Hey DD!! I hope everyone is having a super wonderful week, time keeps flying by and i'm excited for a relaxing weekend. Today would be my 2nd year 7th month, and 10th day or 953 days of being padded. Ever so closer to my third year! As the time continues ever forward, I find myself writing this after changing out of a very soaked dip having just come home from a fun day at the office for a few in person vendor meetings. This morning though was a bit less fun, having to change from a messy dip at work as quick as possible before the meetings started. While i'm thankful to be a 99% remote employee, it does not spare me from various onsite meetings or projects at offices / data centers but I'd rate myself a professional ninja diaper changer and glad to have private bathrooms when needed. Makes changing much much easier! Life keeps moving forward and my body keeps changing little by little from what I can tell, even if it's subtle, it has added up to a life of constant leakiness and very sudden wetting/messing signals if at all. It's hard to really describe what has changed as things are subjective, but I do feel something internally has taken a hit when i'm leaking in between changes or laying down feeling my bottom growing warmer with no sense of needing to wet at all. Messing still is not at a state where I'd describe a complete loss of control. The warnings signs grow even shorter or more subtle/noticeable. Mentally I feel i've crossed a threshold where I'm feeling more on autopilot and dont give much thought to messing, there isn't a loud alarm or something trying to tell me HEY YOU'RE ABOUT TO POO! more just a very quiet subtle "oh I have to to go, so go." While my body is already relaxed and ready to let go. The warning is subtle, the feeling is becoming more automatic, and while I still feel I could stop it if truly wanted too, I've yet to actually test it. It's more just I have to put little effort into relaxing like I used to way back when i first started. Take this morning for instance, I found myself needing to mess after having just gotten out of the car at work. I found myself letting go and instead of heading to the office, instead heading to change first. I'm unsure what will happen in the future, but if this was as close to "incontinence" I could achieve without surgical intervention, I'm happy. I wish it wasn't an odd request to have scans or something performed, or just ways to see just how different my muscles have adapted / changed / weakened over time without going to a doctor or having something on my medical record. It just would be a neat to see for my own sake just to learn how much has changed without giving subjective writing. Anyway I hope everyone has a wonderful month ahead, and that you all have a great weekend. If you have any questions please let me know as I sometimes just don't know what to write. You're all loved ❤️

Chapter Thirty Eight Rubbing his eyes as he woke up again, this time he was on the folded up comforter on the floor propped up against Xerxes. Still a good way to wake up. Not as great as earlier. But still two of his top three since coming here, and both in one morning. Patting Xerxes for a bit, John stretched again and rolled over to stand up. When he was able to stand up at all, he realized that was in a rough pup and not the overnight diaper he couldn’t stand up in. And somewhere along the way he had been dressed in a onesie and some shorts. Looking groggily around the house, he noticed that the door to the back porch was open, but the child gate was closed. Mom was nowhere to be found inside. So he toddled over to the child gate to peek out onto the porch. He spotted her on the chair nearest the door. “Mom?” he asked as sweetly as he could managed. He probably succeeded better because he was half awake. With the tell tale clink of a cup of coffee being put down he could watch her stand up and turn around with a smile. “There’s my little sleepy head! Would you like to join me for some coffee milk?” There it was, she was fully awake in the morning. He simply nodded, and Mom immediately reached down over the gate and got him around the ribs and hoisted him up onto her hip before opening the gate and walking over to the fridge to pull out a bottle of coffee milk that she’d already had ready. Within moments they were back outside and she was back in the chair and shuffled him around so that he was sideways on her and leaning back semi comfortably on the arm of the chair and her left upper arm. Complaining about not getting to sit in a chair on his own would have to wait, addiction to Mommy’s milk and coffee was more urgent as the bottle was turned up. Five minutes later he was sitting on her lap feeling a bit giggly. The milk was starting to hit him a bit harder lately for some reason. As he finished the milk, he noticed Mommy was looking at him a big different, which made him giggle some more. And when she tilted him over her shoulder and patted him firmly on the back he asked “Hey *pat* what *pat* are *pat* yo…” and then he involuntarily issued out a long burp that left him giggling even harder still. Smiling down at him, Mommy asked “Hey, do you want to help me pick and wipe off a few more tomatoes, or would you like to go play or read?” For the first time he didn’t just answer that he wanted to go help, he had to think about it for a moment in his current mental state. He still said “Yes please.” “John … yes to what?” He answered “Oh! To helping.” and he started worming his way off of her lap. She didn’t immediately let him down, but she after a moment she put the coffee cup and bottle down, got him under the arms and turned him right side up before depositing him on the porch. The instant his feet hit the porch he made to bolt into the yard, but he was foiled as mommy grabbed the back of his shorts and pulled him backwards. “And where do you think you’re going, young man?” He turned to look up somewhat indignantly and explained “Yard.” “Shoes.” was all she said. “Don’t need em.” “Shoes.” “… Yes Ma’am.” With a nod, she stood up and went inside, carrying the bottle and the cup with her. Left alone he scooted closer to the edge of the porch. Every fiber of him screaming to jump off the porch and run into the yard. Oh it was so tempting. It was maybe his entire height from him to the ground. He could roll as he landed. It would be like in a movie. As he started to instinctively lean toward the edge, Mommy came outside with a pair of socks and pointed below him. “Park your booty.” With a sigh at the lost opportunity to dive and roll, he sat down on the edge of the porch. He couldn’t stop from swinging his feet while he waited for her and then she had to grab one of his feet to put a sock and shoe onto it before pinning the other one. She looked at her watch and said “Okay, you’ve got about twenty minutes to pick tomatoes. The little scissors and a towel are in your wagon.” He looked a bit confused as he asked “What happens in twenty minutes” She just stood him up and gave him a couple of pats on the bottom as she dodged the question “You’ll see. Just go be happy in the meantime.” He just shrugged and set off with his wagon. Oddly, instead of joining him, she stayed by the porch. When he turned to look back she was sitting on the porch with a towel wiping off vegetables and seemed to just be preparing for something. And she was conveniently seated where she had a perfect view of where he was going to be the entire time. Whatever, Mommy was being weird. So he started looking through the vines to see if any tomatoes that weren’t ready yesterday were ready today. And much to his surprise there were a couple of dozen that felt about right. One of them was shaped super wide like a UFO. So that set him back to giggling and making sound effects as it went into the wagon. After just enough time for him to make a quick inspection of the entire row his insides went from nothing to panic, like flipping a switch. He was so alarmed as the urge hit him like a freight train that he turned to look at Mommy and she was there looking at her watch and then looked up at him. John wanted to run. To plead to make it to the potty. He wanted … anything other than… There wasn’t even enough time to want anything else, his arms went around his belly and he doubled over. There was no stopping it, and it was completely demoralizing. Within seconds of the urge hitting him he was panting as warm liquid mush filled the back of his diaper, spreading out to fill every nook and cranny available, and then somehow finding or making more space. Holding the side of the wagon, he steadied himself as a little more somehow came out of him. The sound of footsteps in the grass coming toward him was faint in what little attention he had to spare, but he looked up to see Mommy smiling down at him. She held out her hand and asked “Would you like to walk, or do you want me to carry you?” The answer was obvious “Please carry me, Mommy.” She just nodded as she reached down and lifted him up, sliding her arm under him and lowering him onto her left forearm. He grimaced as all of his weight landed on that arm butt first. His shoes were pulled off and deposited on the porch as they got to the steps, and he felt her pause to step out of her shoes at the top of the steps before carrying him in. He barely registered the child gate swinging shut in his peripheral vision as they went through the living room to his bedroom. And so for the first time that he was awake for today, he was on the changing table with his shorts being pulled off and the weird puzzle snaps on his onesie being undone. Before she laid him down she held out her arms in the silent offer of a hug. He reached out in return and was immediately wrapped up in a warm, comforting, hug. She gave him a big kiss on the forehead before laying him down and getting to work. “I don’t understand” was all he could really vocalize. “What don’t you understand, sweety?” “Why did … it was just …” He was breathing fast again, it was freaking him out a little. “Twenty four minutes after you finished the coffee milk, you went off. I timed it last time, and this time you made it the exact same, down to the minute. Although…” She looked at what she was cleaning up “This time you may have gone for a record.” “So this really was the coffee milk?” She just nodded while she scrubbed him diligently. “Yes.” “I don’t want to have to give up coffee.” She stopped wiping and rolled up the used diaper to deposit into the waste bin in the changing table. “Lift.” As he raised booty, she slid a clean diaper underneath him and patted him on the hip and said “Down.” He flopped back down and as she set back about powdering him and taping him back up she explained “You don’t have to give up coffee. And every so often most littles get constipated from time to time and need an enema or a suppository. So at least it doesn’t look like you’ll be having that problem!” He shuddered as she said two of those words and she re-snapped his onesie before standing him back up. Instead of putting him down she picked him up in a big hug and held him to her chest with her cheek pressed against his. She whispered “It’s okay. I love you.” Hearing those words gave him butterflies in his stomach. (Thankfully just butterflies this time!) Carrying him to the living room, still minus the shorts, she stood him up on the couch and ruffled his hair before asking “Okay, what would you like to do for a couple of hours?” Without hesitation this time, he answered “May I play on my tablet?” Not only did Mommy say “Absolutely!” but she handed it to him and went to fix him a sippy cup of water. A few minutes later, John found himself leaning back against Xerxes, a blanket over him and the dog keeping him nice and warm. Staring at the tablet he was having a little bit of trouble focusing, but he found a neat little puzzle game that involved spinning discs to make a ball have a path to get out from the middle of the puzzle to the outside of the puzzle. It was sort of like a round labyrinth puzzle, but every layer had to be turned. It was simple and neat. And for some reason, every time the ball rolled along he had another little giggle fit. Without realizing it, his giggle fits were starting to subside as he wound down from his milk high. And he started to focus more on the puzzles and make more progress as he went. With all of the windows open, it was easy to hear a truck coming down the driveway. As if prepared, Mom came in and turned on the coffee maker. John thought about hopping up immediately but wanted to at least finish this last puzzle first. About the same time that he finished his puzzle, there were footsteps on the porch. So getting up, Xerxes stood up behind him and did a full body shake while he put the tablet back on the coffee table where Mom kept it. John walked over to the door as Mom showed Mr Mike into the house. The man had to duck a little to step through a thirteen foot tall door frame. Mr Mike smiled as he greeted Mom and held out a large (to John) container, cleaned and ready to return. On top of the container was a little cardboard box. “What’s this?” she asked him. With a coy smile he said “Well. I guess you’ll have to open it so that we can find out!” Immediately Mom sat the container on the counter and opened the box to find what looked to John to be a large handmade mug. To everyone else around here it was just a normal sized mug. The cool thing about the mug was that there was a stream painted all the way around it, and the handle was somehow shaped like a tree limb and painted accordingly. Mom immediately stepped up to give him a big hug and a thank you. “Mike! This is gorgeous!” With a great big smile he nodded “Well, I’m glad that you like it! I know someone that teaches pottery and I called in a favor.” Practically bouncing with excitement she held it from a couple of different angles now and complimented “Usually cups half this pretty are uncomfortable to hold. This is very good work!” Mike held up a hand and said “One more thing. John, could you turn around for just a moment?” With a nonchalant shrug, John turned around to look at Xerxes, who was standing behind him with a big happy dog grin on his face as his tail whipped back and forth. John felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see a grinning giant man with one arm behind his back. Chuckling, Mike explained "You know John, your Mom's not the only on that gets a present. I searched the entire store and this was the only thing I could find that seemed appropriate for you." And without further ado, his left arm came around and John was presented with ... a stuffie. But this wasn't any stuffie. This stuffie looked like it was meant to be some sort of a lizard, a lizard that was then over filled to make it seem more welcoming. It looked ridiculous. It looked like someone started with a poorly drawn Godzilla that they then colored like an iguana. It was the size of his entire torso, and had legs that bent awkwardly in much the same way that a Vienna Sausage doesn't. Reaching out silently, seemingly mesmerized by the unfathomably awkward appearance of this large stuffie, he grabbed it and squeezed it. It felt like a giant mutated marshmallow. And all of it was somehow eclipsed by the eyes. Those outlandish eyes. The two glassy eyes staring back at him were a small landscape of jade and caramel colored swirls that had a small black disc in them. The most elaborate googly eyes in either dimension were on this ... John was at a loss for words. He found himself so lost in his search for words that he started with a little laugh. Then the laugh started to grow more and more until he could hardly breath for the laughter. John, and his entire history of being able to react on the fly and make up anything on a whim were defeated by this stuffie. The single squishy embodiment of the word "Derp." Standing there laughing so hard he was crying for easily two solid minutes, it took a while to regain any semblance of composure. The giggles he’d had since the milk this morning were more than back. It took longer than he realized that the two bigs were kneeling down next to him and that Mommy had a hand behind him trying to hold him up while he had a full on laugh attack. Eventually catching his breath he wiped at his eyes. “Hahaha… oh my … Mister M… Hahaha Mist… Mister Mike he … hahhh I’m okay … I can breathe …” The two bigs both seemed almost as amused by his reaction as he did by the … derp…. Derpasaur … Interrupting his train of though, Mommy asked “Do you like him?” Exclaiming “Are you kidding!? Look at him! He’s glorious! And Derpy. Derp…. Us … no …” It was impossible to notice that the two bigs over him nodded at each other as he mulled over names. Mumbling to himself, John tried “Derp … derpus? M… no … Godzi… no … Derpzi… no, too eas… Argo!...Hahahaha. Oh, Oh, this is great!” Mr Mike ruffled his hair and asked “Did you name him already?” “Yup!” John exclaimed proudly. “What did you name him?” Mommy asked from behind him. “Argo McDerpus!” “…”

Chapter 1 "I know someone for whom it's time for bed," I interrupted the peaceful puppet show of my little sister on the living room floor in a tone that, to my shock, almost sounded like my mother's. "Please Emily, just a little bit longer, I'm not tired yet," begged Sophie, looking at me hopefully with her big, brown eyes. It was the usual evening drama she played when she had to go to bed. "No Sophie, it's bedtime now, there will still be a tomorrow to play," I explained to her clearly. I had more than enough of her daily, evening disagreements. "But...," she started to whine, but I cut her off. "No Sophie, it's bedtime now, no arguing!" Sophie pouted, but when I took her by her hand, she got up without any further grumbling and allowed me to accompany her to the bathroom without resistance. After a few meters, I noticed that her walk was a bit odd. She was walking with her legs much more spread apart than usual, as if she were imitating the walk of a duck. At first, I thought it was just another game of hers, a way to make the trip to the bathroom more exciting. A Game that she might have learned at kindergarten. But then, suddenly, I realized why she was walking so strangely. "Sophie, can you wait a moment please," I asked her with a sense of foreboding, and stopped. I lifted her summer dress and saw that her pull-up was completely soaked. It was almost a miracle that she hadn't leaked yet. " You're supposed to tell me when you need to go potty," I scolded her sourly. She looked down ashamed. "I was having so much fun playing, I didn't want to stop, and then suddenly I had to go potty before I could say anything." Sophie was a highly advanced child for her age of four. Her language skills were significantly above average, and she could not only read the entire alphabet, but also already write several words. Even simple addition problems were not a problem for her. Despite her remarkable intellectual abilities, she struggled with potty training. She still often woke up with a wet diaper and had more accidents during the day than a typical girl her age. My mother had tried every imaginable method to help Sophie overcome this issue, but with no avail. She even experimented with alternative therapies, like Bach flower remedies and Homeopathy, but as expected, they were of no assistance either. Typically, I would have put Sophie on the potty one last time before bed, like every night, but I could spare myself this step now. Instead, we just made a quick stop in the bathroom to brush our teeth. Then I took Sophie to her room, where I placed her on the changing table. I removed her dress, took off her wet pull-up, cleaned her privates, and sprinkled some baby powder on her diaper area. Finally, I put her in one of her nighttime diapers. "Is this the pajama you'd like to wear, my dear?" I asked my little sister, offering her the princess-printed sleepwear she loved so much. She beamed with joy and put on pants and top with my assistance. "And which story would you like for bedtime tonight?" I asked, giving her the option to choose, even though I already knew the answer. With a loud rustling of her diaper, Sophie scampered over to her bookshelf, and, as she does every night, pulled out the storybook about the adventures of a little princess. "What a surprise," I said with a touch of sarcasm as I took the book from her hand, but she simply smiled contentedly. To my surprise, Sophie was still enamored with the book, despite having memorized every story inside and out. "Will Mum come to give me a goodnight kiss?" Sophie wanted to know as I helped her into bed and looked at me hopefully. "Mum is still out and won't be home until later, but I'm here if you need anything". Immediately, any trace of a smile disappeared from her face, although this situation was nothing unusual for her. Our mother was a highly sought-after lawyer and often had to work late at her office. In such cases, I was often the one who had to pick Sophie up from kindergarten and take care of her until our mother returned. Only on days when I couldn't or didn't want to, a babysitter looked after her. "Mom will give you a kiss as soon as she's back," I cheered up Sophie. "Remember that your potty is right beside your bed in case you need to use it during the night. And if you don't want to go by yourself, you can always call me," I reminded her, as I usually did, in the hope of preventing any nighttime accidents. "I know," Sophie replied with a touch of frustration, having heard this reminder every night before bed. It would only have been nice if she had finally put this knowledge into action. "The little princess lived in a grand and magnificent castle," I started reading to Sophie, and before long, her eyes began to close. So much for her insisting she wasn't tired yet. I continued reading a bit longer, until I was certain that she was soundly asleep and wouldn't stir even if I stopped the story. I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and tiptoed out of her room. Chapter 2 The pleasant chirping of birds in the garden woke me up from my dreams the next morning. Only two weeks ago I had finished my final school exams and it was still unusual for me not to be woken up by the annoying melody of my alarm clock. Finally, I was free, I was no longer forced to adjust my sleep rhythm to the early morning school hours. I could get up and go to bed whenever it suited me. Of course, I was aware that once I started to go to university, the morning sleep-in would also come to an end, but for now I was going to enjoy every moment of my temporary freedom. Unfortunately, this freedom was still quite lonely. As soon as I had finished my final exams, my mother, my younger sister, and I moved from the city to the countryside. My mother had long dreamed of a small cottage, and she took the opportunity provided by the end of my school years to start a new life in a more idyllic place. Admittedly, the old house and the surrounding countryside were beautiful, but it didn't change the fact that it now felt like we were living at the end of the world. There was no club or bar in the immediate vicinity and nothing else to pass the time as a young person. Without a car, you were completely helpless here and I had neither a vehicle nor a driver's license. As a city child, I had never seen the need to waste my time with tedious driving lessons when you could get around more quickly by bike or public transportation in an urban area. But in the end, it didn't matter that I was not mobile here, it didn't matter that I didn't know anyone my age yet, because in no time at all I would be moving far away to England, the location of my new university. I was about to drift back to sleep when I suddenly realized something was amiss. The area around my buttocks felt uncomfortably wet. Had I sweated excessively in my sleep, causing the mattress to become soaked? But why did only the area around my buttocks seem to be wet? I wondered if I had gotten my period, but it was hard to imagine that the little bleeding I normally had could have caused such a mess. I quickly realized what had happened as I lifted my bedspread and discovered a circular, yellow stain around my buttocks on the otherwise pristine white bedsheet. I had clearly wet the bed, even though it seemed surreal at that moment. After all, I had enough experience finding Sophie's mattress in a similar state when we tried letting her sleep without a diaper at night, to know what such a mishap looked like. Repulsed by the wet, already smelling urine that now also stung my nose, now that the bedspread no longer trapped the odor, I rolled out of bed and immediately stripped off my pajama pants, which were also soaked with urine. No one was ever allowed to know about this mishap. I was 19 years old, not four like my sister. There was no excuse for such an accident at my age. I couldn't even imagine what my mother or friends would think if they found out. I could already picture the rumors spreading through my social circle and my new village. "Have you heard, Emily still wets the bed at 19 years old." I had to act fast. I quickly thought through my options. If I threw my bedding into the washing machine before anyone saw it, no one would ever know about my accident. I quickly took off my sheet from the mattress and also removed the covers. However, now that the mattress was uncovered, my mistake was even more obvious. The big yellow stain in the center of the white mattress was unmistakable and would immediately reveal what had happened to anyone who saw it. I had to turn the mattress over to completely hide the urine stain, but just at the moment I was about to start, there was a knock at the door. "Emily?" I heard my mother's voice. "Please don't come in," I panicked, but as usual, she had already entered without waiting for my permission. "I told you not to come in! You always come in without waiting for me to say it's okay," I yelled at my mother while desperately trying to position myself so she couldn't see my bedding and bed. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to quickly ask if you could unload the dishwasher later, after all, you shouldn't have much to do otherwise," she explained apologetically, but didn't make any effort to leave my room and instead looked curiously inside. She must have just been about to leave the house to go to the kindergarten and then to her office, since she was already holding my little sister at her hand. "Why isn't Emily wearing any pants?" my little sister innocently asked my mom when she saw me. I blushed. Out of sheer fear that my sheets and my bed could be seen, I had forgotten that I was standing half-naked in front of them, giving them an optimal view of my uncovered vulva. I couldn't recall the last time my mother had seen me this exposed, but regardless of when it was, it must have been before I hit puberty. "Uh, I was just about to change", I stammered and quickly brought my hands down to conceal my privates. "Why did you make your bed so early?" My mother wondered as she noticed that my sheets were lying behind me. "Did you get your period and is there some blood on the bed?" "Uh, yeah, that's right” I lied, grateful for this plausible explanation. Unfortunately, it didn't have the desired effect, and she didn't leave me alone. "Is there any stain on the mattress too? You need to act quickly if you want to remove it completely," she explained and before I could do anything, she stepped further into my room and looked at my exposed mattress. She appeared stunned. "Did you wet the bed, Emily?" she asked, clearly in disbelief. The question was rhetorical, she didn't need a response to know what had happened. I was speechless. I stood there, my face red, covering my nudity with my hands and hoping it was just a nightmare from which I would soon wake up. Unfortunately, it was not a dream, and I had to confront the unpleasant truth. To my shock, my mother reacted in the same way she always did when my younger sister had an accident. "Oh Emily, it can happen to everyone," she comforted me in a loving tone. Most people would probably argue that my mother's sensitive and considerate response was a positive thing, something to be happy about, but I would have preferred if she had screamed at me from the bottom of her heart. By reacting to my misfortune in the same way she reacts to my little sister's, I felt like she was equating me with a toddler who was expected to wet the bed once in a while and could therefore not be blamed. "We really have to go now. Are you okay?" my mother asked me with such a soft and concerned voice that I almost started crying. Her caring and considerate demeanor only made me feel that the whole thing was even more of a disaster than I had initially thought. I could only nod silently, as I knew that one more caring word would finally make me cry. "Just put the sheets in the washing machine and let the mattress air out before putting on new sheets," she instructed as she was already walking out the door. "Don't worry Emily, it's probably just a one-time thing. We'll see you tonight," she said finally and in the next moment she was gone with my little sister. Hardly had I been alone when I could no longer hold back my tears. For the rest of the day, I was occupied with crying my eyes out. Why did this have to happen to me and why was I so stupid to get caught as well!?

"TAV!!!" I screamed as I scrambled back up to the platform as quickly as my tired limbs and heavy diaper would let me. I had seen mages conjure such explosions while shaping the magics of the spell to leave themselves unscathed, but unless Tav has been holding back this entire time, there was no way he was capable of such a feat. Even just evoking such raw power should have been well-beyond his abilities. But then, he had mentioned that his magic could do unexpected things, and that's precisely what worried me. "Fucking hells..." I muttered reaching the platform and finding that it was as bad as I had feared. The entire platform was still smoldering slightly, and I could feel heat rising from it like sand on a hot summer's day. Three charred Intellect Devourer corpses lay strewn about, barely recognizable as what they once were. And in the center of it all, a blackened figure of a man lay flat on his back, embers still glowing on the surface of his body like the remnants of a campfire. Oh Tav... I kneeled down next to him and the heat was almost too much to bare. But I felt I owed him as much. He'd fought bravely for our survival, and in the end gave his life so that I might have a chance to live. All for a stranger he had only just met hours prior. A part of me wondered if he'd still be alive if he'd never met me. A slight cracking sound drew my attention to his head and... By Shar! He was turning his head to look at me! He's alive! "Did I...... Get 'em all.....?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. I laughed as much in relief as at the stupid question. "Yes, you got them all." "... G-... Good...... F-fuck those guys......" he managed to croak out. I shook my head ruefully. "Why did you do that? We barely know each other, why would you sacrifice yourself for me?" It made no sense. He knew I was a Sharran, and I hadn't exactly been pleasant towards him. What did he get out of this? Was he hoping I'd sleep with him or something? Knowing men, that was probably the main thing on his mind. "You... Have... A mission..." he began, each word more of a struggle than the last. "And I... Wanted... To do... Something... Good...... For a change......" It didn't make any sense to me. Something good for a change? Was he after some sort of penance for past wrongdoings? Was all of this some sort of redemption arc to him? His eyes began to close. "No, no! Stay with me, Tav! I'll find something to help you heal. I'll..." What? What could I possibly do? Forage for some healing herbs to treat full-body third degree burns? It's not as though I could cure his wounds with magic--healing was never my strong suit. "Tav?..." He didn't respond. I sank to the ground, not caring about the pile of mush in my diaper. It barely even registered to me at this point. I felt a cold numbness overtaking me. This man had saved my life twice now, and I was unable to help him in any way. Useless, hopeless, powerless, I was all of these and more. This was just the latest in an unending string of failures that had plagued me my whole life. The faces of my fellow brothers and sisters, as well as Mother Superior flashed before my eyes, all scowling down at me with disappointment and derision. The weight of my shame felt like an elephant had climbed upon my back, forcing me to bend lower. Why had I been chosen to carry the Artifact of all I ever do is fuck everything up? In fact, why had Shar spared me all those years ago, only to condemn me to unending failure and humiliation for the rest of my days? Perhaps I would have been better off as a feast for wolves all those years ago. The unbearable weight of guilt and shame pressing in on me from all sides suddenly relented and I felt a cool numbness encasing my body, as if floating in a pool of icy water. It felt very... Calming. Peaceful. Blissful, even. No thoughts, no pain, just a quiet void all to myself. I opened my eyes and saw nothing but deep purple everywhere. Was this Shar's domain? I figure coalesced in front of me. A shadowy silhouette of a man on his back lying perfectly still. The only distinguishable feature about the figure was a glowing gash in the center of its chest--a mark that looked just like mine. I looked down at my own hand and, sure enough, my mark was glowing as well. I felt a strange urge to reach out and touch the mark on the shadow's chest with my own, and yet also a sort of hesitance, as if I were about to place my hand on a hot iron. Eventually my first urge won out and I placed my hand upon the shadow's mark. And then my world was set aflame. The shadowy figure's form gave way to Tav's corpse, now burning brighter than a Fire Elemental. My instinct was, of course, to recoil, but it was as if my hand had been fused to his chest. Fire crawled up my arm like swarming insects, and the flames felt as though they were eating me alive just as voraciously. I screamed and screamed until I felt deafened my own voice, and when I tried to take a breath, there was no oxygen to be found as it was all fueling the flames that had engulfed me. I had never experienced such raw, intense, blinding agony in all my life. And then all at once it was over, and I was back on the platform, gasping for air. Had that all been some kind of horrible dream? I didn't even remember falling asleep. Motion in my peripheral vision drew my gaze back to Tav as he suddenly sat up, the burnt flesh covering his body now completely gone. "Fuck... If this is the afterlife, either hell doesn't seem that bad, or heaven kinda sucks." I was still too speechless to respond to his jest. How? How could this be? My eyes fell to his bare chest--his vest had been incinerated in the blast--and spied a very familiar looking mark: a jagged scar shaped exactly like the one on my hand. It all clicked together in my mind: Shar had healed him through me, but in return I had to experience the agony of his death. And that's to say nothing of whatever price she might exact from him. He followed my gaze down to his chest and ran his hand over the scar. "Huh. Must've missed a spot when you healed me. Not that I'm complaining or anything! It actually looks kinda badass." A chuckles bubbled up from my lips and it soon grew into a full-bellied fit of laughter. I didn't even quite know why I was laughing. Relief, perhaps? Whatever the reason, it proved to be quite infectious as Tav quickly began laughing as well. He probably didn't even care what the reason was, knowing him. And that only made me laugh even harder. "I'm glad you're back, Tav." I said once my laughter had died down a bit. He stood up and held out his hand to help me to my feet "You're not getting rid of me that easily. I'm like the plague. Or that one annoying cousin everyone hates." That brought yet another fit of giggles out of me as I took his hand. "Definitely the latter-" A sudden tearing sound caused my blood to turn to ice instantly. I had a sudden flashback to one of the Intellect Devourers clawing me down my side, and that happened to include a good portion of my trousers. My hands scrambled to snatch the fabric concealing what little dignity I might have left, but I was a fraction of a second too slow. My torn pants fell down to my ankles, exposing my heavily discolored and sagging diaper to Tav. And as if that wasn't enough, the mark on my hand and Tav's chest suddenly sparked to life, causing Tav to flinch from the unexpected pain, and causing my bladder to empty itself yet again into my already-full diaper. It took all of two seconds before I felt wetness leaking down my bare legs and would no-doubt be forming a puddle at my feet by the time I was done peeing. "Fuck! No no no no! I uhhh, It's not, please don't, ohhhhh fucking hells no..." My pitiful splutterings could do nothing to repair the damage that had been done. Even if the sight of my exposed dirty diaper leaking all over me hadn't been noticed, without my pants covering the diaper the foul stench of my mess enveloped me like a stinking cloud of shame. I wanted to scream and cry and hide from the world forever and ever. Instead, all I could do was look up at Tav, his mouth agape at the sight of me, and await his reaction. "Ohhhhhhh THAT'S why it smells like shit out here!"

You’re a realist. Not me, I’m convinced there’s a gorgeous, bed-wetting, nymphomaniac in my future. Just have to keep my eyes open.

I would like to read more

I'm content, and I feel if that was a fear I'd never have stepped back into dips permanently in the first place. I already "mess" 2-3 times a day, if it where to go beyond that, I'd probably adjust my diet a bit Believe it or not a monthly supply of disposable dips adds up so I'd like to keep it to a maximum of 4-5 a day. (normally around 4) But no, there are no fears. Thanks Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend!

Very frequent messing is a dream come true FWIW.

I have two of Nanny Chloe's stories sitting in my Kindle file. She's a good writer, but I have to agree that what she has done here is in bad taste. She has not been on this site since May of 2019. At least the other authors who promote the paid versions of their stories are active members of the community, and even if it's time delayed, do put their stories here for free. Become an active member of this community, and you are much less likely to get negative feedback for this sort of thing.

It's unlikely any urologist would recommend long term catheterization without a very good reason. Catheters cause infections, and can be uncomfortable to many people. I've had a catheter before when I was younger, for around 6 months, I wasn't in the best of health at the time and even then I remember how uncomfortable it was at times. If this is something you actually want to do, id highly recommend researching how to do it yourself, practice sterile fields, buy the stuff you need online allegro medical and many other sources will let you purchase them without any questions. Having a catheter in is far more serious than most people in this community seem to actually rationalize. What's your plan for when an infection happens? (Not an if but when, when going long term) Along with possible complications often times it's just not worth it

I was a champion bedwetter until I was 10, then it tapered off and I was pretty much done with it by the time I was 11. My parents tried everything - withholding liquids, waking me up to pee in the middle of the night, charts and stickers and treats, promises about away camps and sleepovers... but what was required, evidently, was a physiological maturation that only time could provide. My older daughter completely skipped this, basically potty training herself before she was 3, but my younger daughter has followed in my footsteps, except that we haven't bothered with attempting to incentivize overnight dryness, because I know she has no control over it. And sure enough, she is aging out of it - Goodnites used to be on the shopping list every 3 or 4 weeks, and now it's probably bimonthly at most.

Congrats, @oznl! Some days, I don't know whether to thank you, or curse your name, but either way, I wouldn't be where I am today, if I hadn't started reading your story. You are proof that an intelligent person can arrive at an illogical solution to a preposterous problem, and somehow, end up as a mentor. This really spoke to me, and I think it gets to the heart of something I have danced around a bit on my thread... the political capital we're expending. Neither of us live in a van down by the river, yet anyway, so I guess that gets chalked up in the win column, but it's more of an armistice than a treaty. I may be a bit more circumspect about it, because of the reality in my marriage that there are aspects of her that I at least strongly disfavour, if not outright hate, but I have to live with them and work around them, because they are areas that she's not seeking growth in. Some of them are well calcified. I have to take the good with the bad. I know there are people here who would say "I would never settle, you're not being true to yourself, you only get one life...", but the things I am talking about can take a long time to become apparent. And in the meantime, we built a life together, intertwined finances, and made people. Those things can be undone, of course (with the exception of the people we made, well, not legally, anyway) - armies of people do that for a living - but I know a lot of people, including a lot of divorced people, and the grass over there isn't necessarily greener. There's one guy I knew who blew out a battleax of a woman who entrapped him while he was a virginal nerd, but in medical school, who now has a penchant for running marathons, and a Porsche, and his second wife is awesome - she knows what she's got and so does he. But I know a bunch of other people who are either divorced, or their spouses have died, and they've determined that middle-aged people on the dating scene, like unemployed people, are often there for a reason, and the good ones aren't unaffiliated for very long. So would it be better for me to strike out for greener pastures? While towing a trailer full of diapers behind me? I'd probably end up being extorted by a Russian dominatrix who's actually a man. The corollary to that being, I bring some attributes to the table - income stability, an ability to function as the family cruise director, socially, a really, really long fuse, interpersonally, and, I can fix stuff. Could she do better? Maybe. But I'd bet it would take more than a few rolls of the dice. SO, I'm me, and I do some things really well, some other things okay, some things not well at all, and, I have unfathomable underpants preferences, to someone from Planet Vanilla. I guess she can hit the reset button anytime she wants to, but so far, she hasn't. However, for a couple blissfully in thrall to each other, as we were all told it was supposed to work, I could see macerating in pee-soaked nappies 24/7 as being like spilling a slutty vat of Pinot Noir in the middle of a soft white white goose down duvet. Whereas for me, it's more like spilling a slutty vat of Pinot Noir in the middle of a patchy lawn.

No offense, but I think if you want to do something like this, you should be consulting with the forum mods and getting an advertising type forum added. This forum has always been about stories written for the general members to be able to see. Yes some authors have subscription platforms where chaprmtes are posted before they become free, but people are not trying to post teasers to sell their e books

Chapter 22: The Night Before I returned downstairs to find that Hannah had resumed watching the movie without me. Like before, she was sitting on the floor. Emma remained absorbed in her smartphone on the couch. "You were in the bathroom for a really long time," Hannah said as I took a seat behind her on the couch. Emma groaned at her cousin's lack of social etiquette, though she still didn't look up from her phone. I didn't respond at all to Hannah's comment. Anything she might think I had been doing in the bathroom was better than what I had actually been doing. I hoped that I had managed to put everything back into the suitcase exactly like I had found it, and that the pull-up I had tried out wouldn't show any signs of having been worn. I wasn't able to pay attention to the TV. It didn't matter that this was my favorite of the Harry Potter movies. I simply couldn't sit still and focus on it. The diapers I'd discovered in Hannah's suitcase both worried and intrigued me. Why was it that she would need to wear those to bed rather than the pull-ups? There was only one explanation that made sense. The pull-ups must not work well enough for her at night. There was no question from when I was holding the diaper that it had significantly more absorbent padding, but it seemed to follow that it would be more effective at absorbing urine. But I struggled to understand why that was the case. The pull-ups seemed to work perfectly fine for Hannah during the day. Or did they? When Emma had mentioned that her cousin had peed all over the couch the other day, I had simply assumed that she must have not had a pull-up on at the time. But what if that wasn't the case? What if she had been wearing the pull-up, and it hadn't been able to completely absorb the accident? Maybe those pull-ups didn't work one hundred percent of that time? What would that mean for my own fake bedwetting once my parents got the pull-ups for me? I, of course, would be wetting them, but what would happen if they leaked all over the bed? I couldn't see my parents wanting to continue getting pull-ups for me if that were to happen. They wouldn't see them as having any value if there were still wet sheets to deal with, anyway. Would I end up needing to wear diapers as well if I were to continue faking the bedwetting? And did I want to wear diapers rather than pull-ups? That was a question I didn't know the answer to at the moment. I hadn't ever remotely considered the possibility of wearing a diaper rather than a pull-up outside of the makeshift diaper I had attempted to make for myself once a couple of years back to disastrous results. Would a diaper feel as good as wearing a pull-up? Would it feel better than wearing a pull-up? That wasn't a question I could answer without having tried one on, but there hadn't been an opportunity to do so. From the windows looking out over the backyard, I could see that the rain hadn't let up a single bit. I checked my phone. The forecast said the downpour wasn't supposed to stop until sometime overnight. The movie finally came to an end. Hannah wanted to move on to the next one immediately, but not before taking another toilet break, as her watch had just gone off a couple of minutes earlier. "I need to put my foot down," Emma said, though she remained seated on the couch with her legs curled up to the side. "I'm not watching another one of these movies this weekend." Hannah was gone a lot longer than before. It was hard to tell since it was raining, but I thought I could hear the sound of someone going upstairs and walking around. When she finally returned, she didn't take kindly to Emma's decision to move on to any activity other than watching the next Harry Potter movie. Hannah stomped her feet and ran off when Emma refused to hand over the TV remote to her. Hannah returned a few minutes later with her mom, who tried to helpfully suggest that perhaps we could make some TikTok videos with Hannah instead. That seemed to test Emma's limit on wanting to do anything but watch another Harry Potter movie, but she agreed. There was still another hour or so before Mom was going to come and pick me up. We managed to get a couple of someone choreographic dance videos made that Emma promised Hannah that she would post to her account, though when Hannah went off to use the toilet again, Emma whispered to me that she was going to delete it all once Hannah was gone, saying that she didn't want to ruin the vibe on her account. The doorbell rang a few minutes later. It had to be Mom coming to pick me up. Hannah stayed behind in the living room as Emma and I went to the front door. Mom was chatting casually with Emma and Hannah's parents in the entryway when we arrived. "Are you excited about summer break?" Mom asked Emma. "I will be when Angie is back from her road trip," Emma said. "I'm looking forward to the sleepover on Maddy's birthday." Mom nodded in response to Emma's statement and shifted her gaze over to me. And just like that, I was caught. Mom wasn't supposed to have known that I'd already invited Angie and Emma to have a sleepover on my birthday next weekend. "Where's Hannah?" Emma's aunt asked. "I don't know," Emma said. "Maybe in the other room." "Can you go grab her? I'm sure she'd want to say goodbye since we're leaving early tomorrow morning." Emma trudged back off toward the living room. I caught her rolling her eyes once she was at an angle where her parents couldn't see it. A little while later, there was a loud patter of feet running along the wood floor, and Hannah sprinted around the corner. I couldn't help but once again find my eyes drifting down to her waist. As she came to a stop, her shirt lifted up briefly, giving one final half-second glimpse of the pull-up beneath her shorts. "Bye!" Hannah said with a wave at me. And just like that, she was done, having turned back around to sprint off toward the living room. We continued to make small talk about plans for the summer for a few minutes, and then it was time to head home. I closed the door behind me after getting into the passenger seat, bracing myself for an awkward conversation. Mom turned on the ignition without saying a word and watched the rear-view camera as she carefully backed out of the driveway. Once we were out on the road, the questions began. "Why does Emma think there's going to be a sleepover on your birthday?" she asked. She had me there. It was stupid bad luck that Emma had thought to say anything about that to Mom. Mom had shot down the idea of an all-nighter, and she had made it clear that she wasn't going to OK the idea of a sleepover unless the anti-bedwetting pills had worked. I really didn't want to answer Mom's question, even though it wasn't as though she likely knew the answer already. "I told Angie and Emma that a sleepover was the plan for my birthday." "Madelyn, you know that I had said that wasn't an option unless we managed to figure out what was happening with the bedwetting." I nearly did it. Even though I had planned to bring up the topic of pull-ups tomorrow, I nearly went forward with the speech I had rehearsed about how it might be good to try them. But I instead fell back on a more vague excuse. "I just figured that maybe the doctor would have something that would stop the bedwetting so I could still have the sleepover. I didn't want to tell them that I couldn't do it." "That doesn't leave a lot of time," Mom said as we turned onto the road that led back to our house. "I want to make sure any solution actually works before letting you do a sleepover. Maybe it would be best if we just postponed it. Your friends can stay until it is time to go to bed. It's not as though you'd really miss anything while being asleep." That was the last thing I wanted, especially after having already told my friends that a sleepover was going to happen. "Please don't tell them that it is canceled yet. I don't want them to think anything is wrong." Mom was silent for a bit as she pulled into the driveway and waited for the garage door to open. "That's fine for now," Mom said at last. "But if we don't find a way to deal with the bedwetting before then, it isn't going to work to have the sleepover." <><><> Another night. Another set of pills to take before bed. At least this was going to be the last time. Despite my pleas to get out of taking the pills tonight, Mom insisted that I should give it one more try before going to the doctor's appointment in the morning. "I don't want you staying up too late tonight," Mom said. "The appointment is first thing in the morning, so you need to make sure you set your alarm for eight." Great. Pills. No more water for tonight. No chance of peeing the bed this evening. And I had to get up early in the morning. I held out my hand, and she dropped the two pills onto my open palm. I grabbed a glass with a small amount of water in it from her as well. Mom watched as I popped both of the pills into my mouth. I resigned myself to the possibility of dealing with an actual headache tomorrow morning as I began to raise the glass of water to my lips. Some loud yelling in the distance – which sounded like my younger brother, Jackson – suddenly grabbed Mom's attention, as she turned around to look in the other direction. Mom's back was turned as she headed down the hallway in the direction of the tantrum that Jackson seemed to be throwing. That wasn't common behavior for him, but when it happened, it usually took both of my parents to rein my six-year-old brother in. This was my chance. I pulled the two tiny pills out of my mouth and placed them in my pocket before quickly chugging down the small glass of water. With my plans for the evening suddenly looking much more positive, I didn't throw a fuss at going to bed earlier than I normally would have on an evening during summer break. I made sure to use the toilet while my parents were helping my brother get ready for bed, making sure they would know that any bedwetting would be happening in spite of all the precautions that were being taken. I flushed the two pills down the toilet, watching carefully to make sure that they didn't resurface. The best part about having avoided taking the pills tonight was that I wasn't going to have to avoid drinking anything afterward. My mouth had been so parched the past several nights when I had gone to bed without sneaking a drink from the sports bottle I had tucked away in my bedroom. Alone in my bedroom, I raised the bottle to my lips. I couldn't believe that I was somehow actually excited about the idea of drinking lukewarm tap water. The likelihood of being able to wet myself in bed tonight allowed me to manage to set aside my disgust at the bitter taste of the water. The problem of going to bed this early was that I still had plenty of time to kill before midnight. I tapped open the web browser on my phone, trying to recall the name of the website Hannah had mentioned reading those Harry Potter fanfiction stories on. I couldn't recall the exact name, but a quick Google search of the acronym she had mentioned brought up a link to the website. I tapped on the link, and then I groaned as a new pop-up appeared on my phone, one that was unwelcome but familiar, a message that the website was blocked due to the parental restrictions on my phone. Well, that was just great. Defeated, I set my phone down on the bed. It wouldn't be the first time that an otherwise appropriate website had been mistakenly blocked by the software. If it was something Hannah had access to, I couldn't imagine that it was actually anything that bad or inappropriate. I would need to ask Dad about the website tomorrow, and he would be able to update the permissions on the parental controls like he had done for me before, though perhaps I should consider coming up with a reason for wanting to access the website other than wanting to read Harry Potter stories. A sense of melancholy struck me as midnight approached. This might be the last time of wetting myself like this. Going forward, I would be wearing a pull-up to bed every night for the foreseeable future. I had first wet the bed nine nights ago. And tomorrow I would be going to see a doctor. I was amazed at how quickly everything had progressed. I'd tried to put off thinking about what the doctor's appointment might mean for me in the morning. What tests would they end up running? What theories would they have for why the bedwetting might be happening? Was there anything I had done that might cause them to suspect that I was actually wetting the bed on purpose? One thing was clear. Regardless of what happened at that appointment, I was going to need to find a way to broach the topic of pull-ups with Mom tomorrow. With any luck, tomorrow night, I'd be going to bed while wearing a pull-up identical to the one of Hannah's that I had tried out earlier today. Having managed to avoid taking the anti-bedwetting pills, I didn't have to struggle at all to manage to wet the bed, and I took in the sensation of the warmth spreading beneath my waist. Even though everything had gone right so far, even though I was still completely on track for my plan to succeed, another thought began to fill me with a new worry as I lay on top of my thoroughly soaked bedding. What if the pull-ups didn't work for me? --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

@Beccathelittle what a nice update as always. Have a great weekend! Treat yourself to something nice. Maybe a restaurant you normally don’t go to all the time.

Well guys today marks the 4th anniversary of me joining my new family on daily diapers! I find it hard to believe that it's been 4 years already.😅 Feels like yesterday when I just came here and signed up. Love you guys so much!♥️ Big hugs!♥️🤗😃

It's amazing to me that so many folks have spouses or partners who aren't supportive. Being involved is one thing and I can see spouses or partners not necessarily wanting to actively participate but not even being supportive . . . I couldn't and wouldn't be able to live that way, life is too short.

Flashes of fire and violet light lit up the dusk that painted this gods-forsaken crash site in ever-deepening shadow. There were at least six of the creatures scuttling towards our platform now, and I hoped we could take out at least three of them before they reached us, but it wasn't looking very likely. These Intellect Devourers were far-more durable than one would expect a quadrupedal internal organ to be. I could tell we were hurting them, but they still charged at us despite our magical volley. I think we managed to fell one of them before the one I knocked off the platform earlier had managed to skitter its way back up. "On our right!" I called out before charging at the creature. Perhaps I could knock it off again before it gained its footing. I swung my mace, but apparently it had learned its lesson from before and dodged my blow. It lashed out with one of its claws and I managed to barely jump out of the way, but I lost my footing and almost fell off the platform to the ground below. The creature likely would have pressed its advantage and succeeded in knocking me off if Tav hadn't struck it with a firebolt. It turned its body-head towards him and let out a screech from a mouth I could not see. "I'm gonna make you wish you were never born, buddy! Or... Hatched, or whatever you do!" Tav taunted before launching another ball of flame which missed the creature by a hair's breadth. Behind him, I saw another Intellect Devourer climb up onto the platform. "Look out!" I shouted before casting Sacred Flame on the creature. It realed in pain and Tav turned his attention towards it, using his lightning attack like he had on the wolf. Unfortunately with both of our attentions fixated on that one monster, the one I had smacked before took the opportunity to lunge at me, raking a claw down my side. My body lit up with pain and I swung my mace to bat the creature away with a satisfying crunch. Filled with pain and rage I pressed the advantage and swung down on the stunned creature again and again until it no longer squealed when I hit it. Another one down. Tav's scream of pain from behind me drew my attention back to him. A second Intellect Devourer had joined the fight and evidently took him by surprise, leaving a deep gash down his back. I tried incanting Sacred Flame again, but I was breathless after my previous onslaught and the spell fizzled. Fuck, I was already so exhausted and the fight had barely just begun. My hope faded as my strength dwindled. There was no use. These creatures were far beyond our power to defeat. It would be best to just lay down and hope for a quick death. Perhaps in death, I might finally find the bliss of loss--no more pain, no more struggles, no more humiliation and shame, just the coolness of darkness and the peace of nothingness. ... ... No. NO! Shar did not bring me this far only for me to fall now! I was put here for a purpose: to deliver the Artifact to Shar. I was not going to allow these abominations to stop me! I felt a cold malice fill my bones as I rushed towards the nearest foe--the one that had struck Tav. Its back was to me, so I placed both of my hands upon its body and spoke the words that would unleash my malice in one terrible spell: Inflict Wounds. In that moment, I felt as though Shar's unfathomable distain flowed through my body and into the creature, rending an agonized screech from its maw as the purplish flesh beneath my fingertips turned black with decay. In mere seconds the creature was dead. I glanced up at Tav, who looked down at me with some combination of awe and horror, and I briefly wondered if he was now reconsidering his stance on traveling with Sharrans, before a wide grin spread across his face. "Fuck, that was badass! Can you teach me how to do that?" Before I could even begin to formulate an answer, a sudden impact knocked me off my feet. An Intellect Devourer had tackled me to the ground and now perched atop my chest. It's clawed forearms dug into my shoulders, pinning me to the ground. But that barely registered in my mind as I was currently transfixed by the creature's mouth which was now visible from this angle. Rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth lined a cavernous maw beneath its body-head. The screech it let out felt like needles in my ears and I was powerless to run from it. I squirmed and writhed beneath the creature, trying to break free, but to no avail. And just when I thought it could not get any worse, a barbed, glistening tongue slithered out if its horrific maw, poised to strike like a scorpion's tail. I was about to scream when Tav's hand suddenly wrapped itself around the tongue and he yanked the creature off of me and tossed it into one of the other Intellect Devourers. "There will be no weird tentacle bullshit while I'm here!" he said to the thrown creature before pulling me to my feet. We immediately went back-to-back to avoid being caught on our blindside again. There were still three of them left, and they had effectively encircled us, hissing and screeching to distract and disorient us. I couldn't speak for Tav, but I would not be so-easily swayed. I pointed at the one directly in front of me and casted Sacred Flame, just as I heard Tav launch a Firdbolt at one behind me and to the left, which meant the one on the right was probably going to lunge. I quickly moved to intercept it with my mace and, sure enough, it was leaping directly at Tav. I batted it out of the air and back down to the platform, but the force from the impact sent a jolt of pain through my bones and I wondered if I might have dislocated something. "Ow!" The one I had struck with Sacred Flame scratched my leg and I stumbled away from it just as Tav turned to shock it with lightning, only to get clawed by the other one behind him. I swung my mace down at it and it leapt back out of the way. But before I could raise my weapon again, its tongue lashed out and grabbed the handle of my mace, yanking it from my hand and tossing it over the ledge. Fuck! Gods damn these wretched creatures! I blasted it once again with Sacred Flame, but that didn't seem to do much beyond pissing it off even further. And now I had nothing but my bare hands to defend myself with. I felt wetness run down my leg, and I wasn't sure if it was blood or my diaper leaking. It leapt at me. Only to bounce off of a translucent wall that had appeared rather suddenly in front of me. I spun around to Tav and found him with his arms outstretched, fingertips glowing with pale blue light. He was projecting some kind of... Shield? And I could tell it was taking a toll on him. The veined in his arms and neck bulged and his body practically glistened with sweat and blood. He looked like he was just as spent as I was, if not more. All three of the Intellect Devourers bashed and clawed against the barrier, and each time they did Tav winced. My mind scrambled for a way to help--a way to use this opportunity he was giving me to save us. No such idea came. Once the barrier fell, we would both be sitting ducks. The tattoos on his arms and body began to glow a fiery orange, and I briefly wondered if that was as painful to him as the mark on my hand was for me. If so, I couldn't imagine feeling that pain across my entire body. He glanced down at his arms, then his gaze fell to me, a strange look in his eye that I couldn't quite place. It felt like it was somewhere between... Indignation and acceptance? Sadness and serenity? "Shadowheart... Good luck on your mission." I was about to question what he meant, before he shoved me as hard as he could, sending me careening off the platform. I fell backward for what felt like miles, but was of course only about ten feet or so. I was fortunate enough to land on the spongy pink ground rather than the hard chitin, but it still knocked the wind out of me and left me seeing stars. But before I had the time to wonder why he would do such a thing, a fiery explosion erupted from the platform above.

I have come to realize the Internet is filled with trolls who simply want to ruin anyone’s day, and “experts” who want to argue everything and immediately say why someone is wrong. I believe these kinds of people also don’t really live much outside the Internet, or if they do, they don’t function all that well with others. So, I’ve learned to stop taking anything on the Internet personally, and if someone does start personal attacks or just is outright rude, then I will be quick to ignore and move on. It’s not their fault they act this way, and these people aren’t even worth my emotional energy. That said, I think a lot of people simply “want to believe” whatever they want to believe. How many posts can you find (even here) with people extremely certain that “wearing diapers 24/7 won’t make you incontinent, just like wearing underwear won’t make you continent”? Peer reviewed journals already show us that’s not necessarily true. On the same token, people also have difficulty thinking beyond black and white. Either you “are” or “are not” continent. When really, medical specialists intentionally use scales to assess “levels of continence.” It’s not black and white. Lastly, it’s a common phenomenon that people can get angry if they see people happy with something they don’t like, don’t understand, or can’t have. So, they immediately piss in someone else’s cereal. It sounds like this is happening to you. And yes, I recently had the experience (not ABDL related) of talking to a doctor and learning that something I thought was normal my entire life was actually atypical. But when it’s your body and it’s how it works since you were a small child, you assume it’s just normal.

For the time being, I'm considering the story complete. Only because it already ended up a lot longer than originally outlined, and I don't want too many 'forever stories' out there, even if I could easily keep writing for so many of them. --------------------- Part 39 It didn’t take much for Audrey to talk Cassidy out of the car. The alternative was Audrey getting back behind the wheel and driving them straight home. Now that she had informed Cassidy that one of their parents was around, the diapered girl was quick to reject that idea when it looked like her sister was ready to close the car door and follow through on her suggestion. Cassidy wasn’t sure which was worse–wearing diapers, or being nearly naked outside the padded underwear. It was one thing walking around like that earlier, as she had the saving grace that they most likely weren’t going to run into anyone that they knew. This was different. Not only because of Elena, who was a whole problem by herself, but also the fact that this neighborhood was dangerously close to their own. What if someone that knew Cassidy drove by and recognized her? That’s what got her moving more than anything else. As much as she hated the idea of one of Audrey’s friends seeing her like this, this detour was officially happening now that Cassidy was standing in the driveway rather than in the safety of the back seat. Getting inside was suddenly a priority, rather than something she was resisting. Although Cassidy had taken the first few steps towards the stone path by herself, Audrey was quick to take her hand anyway. As if Cassidy was going to get lost or wander off despite how straightforward this was compared to the hustle and bustle of the Renaissance Faire. Or maybe Audrey was just making sure her sister wasn’t going to get cold feet and retreat to the car at the last second. Either way, she walked the girl all the way to the front door and wasted no time in ringing the bell. Each second that went by felt like an eternity. Cassidy kept waiting to wake up, or for Audrey to change her mind and take her back to the car. Maybe Elena wouldn’t be home. A stupid thought, as Audrey had likely texted ahead, although Cassidy was in a place where just about any hopeful thought was worth reaching for. Of course, none of that happened. Not that Cassidy had really expected it to. “Coming!” an adolescent voice called to them from somewhere inside. A few seconds later, a vaguely familiar short-haired girl around Audrey’s age swung the door open. “Hey, Audrey!” she smiled, giving her a quick once over, “Nice costume.” Her friend was wearing shorts and a tank top, which was a much more standard summer outfit. Coming back to the real world was always a little bit jarring, which is why Audrey and Cassidy usually drove right back to the house without making any stops along the way. “And hey, Cassie,” she turned towards the smaller sister, glancing at the diapers and her otherwise naked body, “Nice . . . bangs?” she said. Still covering her boobs with both hands, Cassidy blushed at how obviously it was that Elena was struggling to find a compliment when Cassidy looked how she did. Cassidy still hadn’t forgiven Audrey for the haircut she had given her with no warning. It was the least of Cassidy’s worries at the moment, although she was thinking about it all over again now that Elena had drawn attention to the immature style. “She’s been leaning into the whole ‘cute’ thing recently,” Audrey said, “I think she’s finally accepted that she’s done growing. So from now on, Cassie isn’t going to wear bras or panties. Only diapers, at least until she stops having accidents.” “And you said I should babysit her as if she’s twelve?” Elena asked. “Mm hmm.” Audrey let go of Cassidy’s hand and stepped behind her. Placing her hands on the diapered girl’s shoulders, she said, “She’s been acting like an immature little girl all day. Freaking out over nothing, whining about everything. We were literally in line for the bathroom, and she ended up wetting herself instead of holding it for a few more minutes. So, yeah. If she’s going to behave like a tween, she’s going to be treated like one.” “Works for me. And what about her diapers? I have pretty much every size for my babysitting gigs, unless you have something specific for her instead.” “Nothing specific, although go for something thicker if you can. She totally soaked the diapers she was wearing earlier. Not sure how, honestly. She’s so tiny!” Because Cassidy had been holding it for forever at that point. Trying to get a word in edgewise as they discussed her right in front of her face, she started to say, “It’s not like-” “Hush, Cassie. The big girls are talking,” Audrey said, “Anyway, do you have any questions for me? Hopefully she won’t be too difficult. She was just changed into fresh diapers before the drive, and she hasn’t had anything to drink recently.” “I think I’m all set,” Elena replied, “I’ll take her to the bathroom every half hour anyway, just in case.” Wait, was Audrey dropping Cassidy off?! The dots were only just starting to connect. Cassidy had been under the impression this was going to be an unwanted stop on the way home, because that’s all that Audrey had said in the car. But if Audrey and Elena were talking like that . . . “Sounds good. Thanks for doing this at the last minute, by the way!” Audrey nudged Cassidy forward by her shoulders, “And I’m totally not expecting a discount or anything. Full price is fine! Whatever you’re charging these days.” “Perfect,” Elena said, “Well, Cassie? Come on in.” Cassidy took a few steps forward. Partially because she was being pushed in that direction by her sister, and also since she hadn’t been loving the fact that they were lingering on the front porch instead of heading inside and out of sight. However, once she made it past the threshold, she turned around and looked at Audrey in total confusion. “Wait, what are you-” “I have errands to run, little Cassie! And we talked about this, remember? Do you want our parents to see you like this? Or would you rather stay with your babysitter for a little while?” But- but this was the same no-win decision as before. Only worse. Instead of simply letting Elena see her like this, Cassidy was going to stay with her? Why? And for how long? She had so many questions, and wasn’t sure how to ask Audrey any of them. Looking back and forth between the two girls, Cassidy knew that the latter option was objectively better. And yet, at the same time, she was still processing this latest twist in the humiliating day that refused to end. “You can’t- you can’t just leave me here!” Cassidy eventually blurted out. The actual delivery of the protest sounded a lot more childish than she expected. “Answer the question, sis,” Audrey said, “Parents, or babysitter. If you really want to go home, we can.” That wasn’t a realistic option, and they both knew it. And since Audrey was driving, there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room in terms of alternative destinations. It was also starting to dawn on Cassidy that there wasn’t a single other acceptable place she could think of; not while she was topless. Loathe as she was to admit it, killing time at someone else’s house wasn’t the worst idea. The problem was, Audrey was just pawning her off again. Also, Elena had been told that Cassidy’s diapers were clean. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

You've done a good job with jumping off of the original source material. It's very cute and loving.

normal 8yr old would 3' 5" -4'2' 47lb -70lb He can be smaller than that. If you want to edit and it is a high chair... like the story

I've figured out how to satisfactorily conclude the story, so back to posting! Chapter 5 Over the next week, Lucy navigated the gentle transition back to wearing underwear with the thoughtful consideration of someone who had found unexpected comfort in a symbol of her recent adventure. The package of diapers from the audition remained in her room, a tangible reminder of her unique experience. Occasionally, she would glance at it, a small smile playing across her lips as she remembered her recent audition. Anne and Peter, inspired by their daughter's brief journey into the world of modeling and acting, began to delve into opportunities that might suit Lucy's distinctive qualities. Their search was fueled by the realization that Lucy's small stature, combined with her maturity, offered a unique niche in the industry—a child who could play younger roles with the professionalism and understanding of someone older. Their inquiries led them to an agent known for working with child actors and models. The agent confirmed what Anne and Peter had begun to suspect: there was indeed a demand for children like Lucy. Studios and advertisers often preferred working with older children for roles meant for younger ones because they could follow directions more adeptly and were subject to fewer working hour restrictions. However, the agent also cautioned that some older children found it challenging to be cast in roles younger than their actual age, highlighting the importance of ensuring Lucy truly enjoyed these experiences. Motivated by this new understanding, Anne and Peter continued their exploration, committed to finding opportunities that resonated with Lucy's interests and made her feel valued for her unique attributes. Their discussions with Lucy were open and supportive, ensuring she felt involved and excited about the possibilities ahead. Then, one day, a letter arrived that seemed to hold the promise of a new adventure. The return address bore the name "Huggies," a familiar and now meaningful name to the family. As they gathered around the kitchen table, the letter unopened between them, there was a sense of anticipation in the air. This wasn't just a piece of mail; it was a symbol of the journey they had embarked upon together, of the opportunities that lay ahead for Lucy, grounded in the love and understanding that defined their family. Opening the letter, they were about to step into the next chapter of their adventure, one that promised new experiences and the chance for Lucy to shine in her own unique way. The letter from Huggies was more than just correspondence; it was a door opening to a world where Lucy's distinctive qualities were not just accepted but celebrated. Lucy's eyes widened with each word her parents read aloud from the letter, a mix of disbelief and joy dancing across her face. The possibility of being part of a Huggies advertising campaign seemed like something out of a dream, a continuation of the adventure that had begun with a simple audition. Her excitement was palpable, mirroring the thrill and pride her parents felt. Anne and Peter exchanged looks of awe and happiness, their hearts swelling with pride at the opportunity their daughter had been offered. This wasn't just a modeling job; it was a recognition of Lucy's unique charm and the very qualities that made her special. The fact that a brand as well-known as Huggies saw value in what Lucy could bring to their campaign was an affirmation of her potential in the world of acting and modeling. The family spent the evening discussing the opportunity, weighing the pros and cons but leaning heavily towards the excitement of the new experience. They talked about the schedule, what the shoots might entail, and how they would manage logistics. Every detail discussed was infused with an underlying current of enthusiasm and anticipation for what was to come. Lucy, buzzing with energy, asked countless questions, her imagination already painting pictures of the photo shoots and the fun she anticipated having. Anne and Peter reassured her, promising to support her every step of the way and ensure that her comfort and happiness remained their top priority. Deciding to accept the invitation, they drafted a response to Huggies, expressing their gratitude and excitement to be part of the campaign. As they sent off their reply, the family felt united in a shared adventure, one that promised not only a new professional experience for Lucy but also a journey filled with learning, joy, and the celebration of her individuality. That night, as Lucy went to bed, her dreams were filled with the bright lights of photo shoots and the laughter of new experiences. For Anne and Peter, the quiet of the night brought moments of reflection on the unexpected paths life can take and the opportunities that arise when you embrace them with an open heart. The letter from Huggies wasn't just an offer; it was a symbol of the beginnings of a journey that would bring new experiences and memories to cherish as a family.

Chapter Two [Ai Sinclair stands in front of the old church on fifty-third, one foot from the answers she seeks and one foot in the grave.] The threads were tight around the church, The Holy Academy, but they were wrong. Stitched together by force, not by nature. I could see the angles everywhere except for a two block radius around the church. Their stronghold. The rain fell like tears from the sky, weeping for the lost souls of the city. Strong ‘mancy did funny things to the weather. One corner of the building was wrong though. The whole place was still dark, empty if you looked through the windows, the For Sale sign in the grass inviting anyone and everyone to save it from its abandonment. It was as lost as so many other souls in this town. My car was two blocks away, tucked behind a building like a hunted animal in its lair. Gripping the gun tightly in my pocket, I stalked the building as though it was an even more dangerous beast, letting my eyes go slack and looking through that corner. Turning my body slowly, I let my subconsciousness find the angle that its threads existed at, the things you could never see when you were looking but invaded the corner of your eye when you weren't. The patches there were wrong. Far more wrong than any other place in the city. Shō hadn't come to my door quickly enough. It was eminently possible that Gus was right, that they'd already won. But how? Why? The world was unfathomably old, the tears were part of the world, unless I was right and this place was truly a patchwork made by a mad god. But that was far crazier than a gargoyle and a goat running a bar with no doors and no windows in literal nowhere. And I wasn't one to turn away from the big questions. Walking through a tear was certain doom. Wisdom said to avoid them, but the doors went to an empty church and this was unmistakably the place. So I walked through backwards, holding my hat with one hand and my gun with the other. [Everything changes.] I stepped from a rainy world of grays and browns into a palace made of pink foam with smiling faces everywhere. There were no silver stars, the preferred symbolism of the Argentum. The floor was soft beneath my boots, water dripping from every part of me. "Oh, someone's so wet!" The words nearly stopped my heart, coming from further in, further down the hall of pink marble and bubblegum bunny sentries with unfeeling, unseeing eyes. I stepped to the corner, turning my body at an angle, perpendicular to the real, making myself infinitely thin in this funhouse. But the voice wasn't for me. She hadn't been speaking to me. "My goodness, you're soaked, Bala!" The name was familiar, deeply, deeply familiar but it was the whisper of a forgotten dream. A cotton candy cloud lost in the waking from soft sweetness to the harshness of the really real. "You like being soggy though, don't you? Yes you do! Yes you do! Because you're a good girl. And good girls are..." "Wet!" The world was upside-down and fragile like a house of cards in a strong breeze, ready to collapse at any moment. That voice called to me from a past that wasn't mine, from a place that tugged at my heartstrings like a shattered promise. I knew that voice, but I knew that I shouldn't. That the entire deck had been arranged to specifically prevent me from ever hearing it, but a bad shuffle from a dealer that wasn't in on the take changed the whole game. I wasn't supposed to be here and I knew it in my bones. "Please Auntie." Another voice. While there was noise, I dropped my waterlogged hat and coat, ditching my boots and socks to eliminate the squelching anathema to the stealth that I needed. "I don't like this. I'll be good, please let me go home." "Oh do we have another volunteer?" The name Bala, the intentional mystery, had stunned me from recognizing that first voice. It was wrong. Like the woman that owned it hadn't slept in a thousand years, like she was run ragged, giving her absolute all to children who would never understand the sacrifice of their parents. It was Aya, but worn thin like a well-loved blanket, threadbare and nearly torn through. "Someone who wants to be like Kione? I think we're ready for another battery out there, but I'm sure we can make it more humiliating. What if we make you..." The second voice, Bala, finished her sentence gleefully. "Work a regular job but everyone always forgets you're a baby until you wet yourself and then they change you and dote on you as the office baby until you're carried home to your crib! Then you wake up and do it alllll again. I know it's what you really want in your heart of hearts! It's what everyone wants, deep down in a place they don't tell the truth about." "No!!" The other girl was frantic, screaming from a primal terror that humans should have forgotten long ago. "Please, I'll be good. I'm sorry I asked! I'm sorry!" "Oh poo." Bala sounded as though she were pouting as I inched closer to the voices. "Why haven't you given up to be baby yet? You want to be baby, don't you Tali?" "Yes, yes I do." The other girl, Tali, answered quickly. Aya cooed at her. "You know what you have to do to show you're baby, don't you? Come on, show Auntie. It will make us all so happy and then you can go to bed." I peered around the corner just in time to see a grown woman beginning squatting, in a dress that did absolutely nothing to cover the absurdly thick diaper taped around her. Her face turned red and her eyes clenched shut, and just as I feared, the seat of her diaper began to expand. "Tali is such a good baby!" I recognized Aya, but her eyes matched the fray of her voice. Dark, heavy purple circles rested there and she reached out to stroke the hair of the girl who was still messing herself as though life itself depended on it. "What are you doing, sweet Tali? Tell us what you're doing." "Goin' poopy..." She managed the words between grunts, her diaper drooping behind her. Aya's hand in her hair glowed, collecting the charge in a way that shouldn't be possible. Charge went into objects so they could be used later. The glow was familiar, that color-that-wasn't-a-color, and it flowed through Aya and into Bala as she brushed the other girl's cheek. Bala was similarly, obviously diapered beneath her shortalls and pink shirt, shivering in pure joy at the energy she was receiving. A soft moan of wretched, innocent-sounding pleasure came from her as tears began to well up in Tali's eyes. "Yes you are, sweetie. You're goin' poopy! And... all done!" As though the girl weighed nothing at all, Aya lifted her to one hip, a hand pressing the mess in the seat of the girl's diaper against her. "And we'll change you tomorrow! Now you get to go to bed just like we promised, nice and safe in your crib! Say thank you!" "No! Please! Please, it's so yucky!" With a tsk coming from her lips, the exhausted Aya began patting Tali’s bottom again and again. "Oh someone's fussy. You want to go be that battery? We'll get you a nice job in a nice, public place. You can get changed right there on the floor in front of everyone, finding out that - oh no, you're baby - again and again and again and just giving us oh-so-much humiliation to feed our princess Bala!" "I wanna go bed! I speepy!" Tali sobbed as she clung to Aya. "I'm baby... thank you Auntie..." The Aya-that-shouldn't-be carried the sobbing girl through a doorway, leaving Bala giggling and alone in what looked like an enormous playroom with every manner of toy, stuffed animal, and adult-sized baby furniture imaginable. All of the building, all of this torn corner of reality, vibrated with the charge - this was more powerful purdormancy than should have ever been possible, but I couldn't deny it. With a hand in the pocket of my loose trousers, I stepped into the room without a plan at all and asked the question. "Why?" Bala looked at me, familiar eyes in a familiar face that was entirely unfamiliar. A girl thrumming with power that wasn't hers, filled with the humiliation of who knew how many acts of depravity. "NO!" Her face contorted in a mask of frustrated, helpless rage that made no sense at all to me. "No! You can't, not again! Not this time! I'm happy! I'm the good girl! I'm the princess! I'm helping people and I'm fixing things and all people have to do is be baby! All they have to do is let themselves be happy!" I repeated myself. The only question that ever really mattered. "Why?" "Because I deserve to be happy! Because I'm a good girl! Because I'm... I'm so tired... why can't you be happy? Even when I try to keep you away from it all, you're never happy..." I loved this girl. I knew it in my heart of hearts. I loved her, I'd lived for her, and part of me knew that I would die for her. Aya was back, looking at me with forlorn, devastatingly tired eyes and I felt the world go sideways. I felt my clothes shifting, my panties unmistakably becoming a thick, puffy diaper inside my pants. There were but precious moments. My left hand drew the ring from my pocket, popping it my mouth and swallowing it to draw that amoromancy charge, enough to stop the transformation. The charge of my love freely given and kept for years in secret from a man that I knew in the depths of me that I'd never see again. Samuel Colt, my only lover now, was drawn from the pocket of my wet and out-of-place gray trousers in this pink paradise, and Bala looked at me with unthinkable shock as I pointed the barrel of the .38 at her. And pulled the trigger.

Ted woke with a start. The blankets on his bed rustled and his mattress shifted. He had been so deeply asleep, it took him a moment to realize… someone was getting in bed with him. A voice whispered, “Shhh… it’s ok, it’s me.” Ted felt an arm wrap around him and settle him back to his pillow. He finally saw Lara's face faintly through the dark, smiling as she lay in bed next to him. He relaxed, but wondered what she was doing there. Lara’s rubbed Ted’s back, soothing him, then slowly slid her hand down to his hip. “How’s your diaper holding up?” she whispered, tugging on the elastic? Ted scowled and blood rushed to his face. He pouted, still in a bit of a fog wondering if he was dreaming. “Oh don’t be a sour puss!” Lara chided. She slapped him on the thigh. “I actually think they’re really cute. And maybe a little…” Ted’s face softened. He stared at Lara. “… sexy,” she finished softly. Lifting the blankets, she gave Ted a view of her bottom half. He became aroused when he saw she wasn’t wearing pants. But in the dark, he couldn’t make out just what she was wearing. Lara took Ted’s hand and pulled it toward her crotch. His mouth dropped open as he felt a familiar papery crinkle between her legs. His cock swelled within his own diaper. Lara's hand found its way there. She rubbed him through the thin padding making him harder and harder. The tight fitting pull-up constricted his member as it pressed and grew bigger. Lara stared him in the eye as she slid her hand down the waistband and gripped him. Ted gasped. “Oh my… such a big boy…” she cooed. Ted’s eyes rolled back in his head. He moaned as Lara’s cool fingers worked up and down his shaft. “Mmm… that’s it, big boy. That feels good doesn’t it?” “Uhhh huh… don’t… stop…” Lara quickened her pace. Ted’s pull-up crinkled loudly and stretched to the limit. She could tell it wouldn’t take long to get him to a climax. With the boy consumed in his pleasure, she decided to add some baby talk to encourage him to associate his orgasm with being babied. “That’s my big boy… are you gonna make a mess in your diapie? Come on baby, make a sticky mess for me. Don’t worry, I’ll clean you all up and get you in a nice fresh diaper.” Conflicted momentarily by the humiliating way she spoke to him, and the feeling of her hand massaging his cock, Ted gave in to the pleasure. His eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned with delight. “Good boy. You’re gonna make a messy aren’t you? Come on little boy. Cum for me baby. Cum in your little diaper…” Ted did just that. With a loud groan, he exploded into his Goodnite. He writhed on the bed, enjoying every drop. “Good boy…” Lara purred at him. “That’s my good boy.” The padding did its job and soaked up all of Ted’s orgasm. He lay on his bed, eyes closed, in pure bliss. Lara looked him over with a huge smile. “Ok little one,” she finally whispered, “you need a fresh diaper before you fall back asleep.” Ted felt himself blush. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, again feeling deeply embarrassed by Lara’s tone. Lara tore open the sides of his Goodnite and slid it out from under him. She stood up and tossed the used diaper to the floor. Ted continued pretending he was asleep as Lara grabbed a fresh pull-up from the night stand, stretched it out and slid it up his legs. When she reached his hips, she implored him. “Up please,” she said, surprising herself with a distinctly maternal tone. Ted did as he was told, lifting his bottom off the bed so Lara could get the pull-up in place. He kept his eyes tightly closed, though. “There we go, all clean and dry,” Lara said as she patted his crotch. “Time to go back to sleep, little boy.” Again, she thought she sounded like a mom taking care of a small child. A warmth grew inside her. Lara tucked Ted back in and kissed him on the cheek, eliciting a smile from the boy. “Goodnight, sweetie,” she cooed in his ear. She watched as Ted melted back to sleep, then she quietly left, leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar. She tiptoed back upstairs and passed out with a wide smile spread across her face.

I just need to highlight this and make sure it gets the recognition it deserves, because holy crud, this is wonderful.

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

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

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

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

I became incontinent as the result of an unexpected side effect of surgery when I was 14 years old in 1956. So I've now been living with bladder-control issues for 68 years. Becoming incontinent as a young teenager was devastating, in fact so devastating that I contemplated suicide. So I definitely understand how some people feel that incontinence has their lives. However, fortunately, I didn't kill myself. And I came to appreciate the sensuality that diapers can provide and realized that I did not have to suffer from incontinence and could to a degree even enjoy it. Unfortunately, many people living with incontinence never get beyond the suffering stage.

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

Chapter Two “Why would I want to meet you? I don’t know who you are!” Ai said, taken aback. “I don’t know either,” Bala retorted. “It’s your mem. It ended before I could figure out why.” Ai's thoughts raced like the beating of a hummingbird's wings as she tapped her index finger against her lips. Who was this girl in front of her? She gave Bala another look over, but thankfully for Ai's sanity, she hadn't somehow missed cat ears or a tail. She looked just like any normal girl. Not to mention, in the mem, Bala had thought she was normal. The diapers, the cages, the animal features—that was just how life was. Ai couldn't find a way to reconcile the two images. “This is going to sound crazy,” Ai said, “but in the mem you were like somebody’s pet?” “What, like a fire ferret?” Bala asked. “No, you were a person. Well, a cat person. And you—” Ai opened her mouth to say more, but she slammed it shut, hesitating. Bala looked at Ai with those soft brown eyes. Ai felt a strange kind of maternal instinct; the girl seemed so helpless. It was up to Ai to be decisive. “I promise I’m not making this up,” Ai said. “You were excited that your Keeper had come home.” “Like a girlfriend or something?” asked Bala. Ai started to reflexively say no, but the words died on her lips. It was more intense, but the overall pattern seemed to fit. “I think so,” Ai said. “It seemed like she took care of you. You were wearing diapers.” Unexpectedly, instead of laughing, Bala simply nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. If they feel as good as in that mem, I totally see why, Ai thought. A pleasant sensation between her legs caught her off guard. “It’s part of my job,” Bala explained. “I make medicine to help people feel less topsy-turvy. I make memories of being happy and innocent and cared for and loved, and then they extract those feelings into mems, put them in pills, and give them to sad people.” “Did I want to find you so I would stop feeling sad?” Ai wondered aloud, though the words felt wrong as she said them. Bala shook her head. “Why would you need me? You could just go to your local chemist if you wanted the pills.” They looked at each other, then around the room. “I think we should try another mem,” Ai said. “We need more information.” “If you say so,” Bala shrugged. “Good girl,” said Ai before she realized how condescending that was. She looked at Bala with a panic, but the girl’s eyes were closed. She had a serene smile on her face. It seemed like this Bala also enjoyed being talked down to, even without all of the cat ears and other physical changes. Normally, Ai would have found this irritating—she didn't need to take responsibility for two people, she barely had a handle on just herself—but on Bala, it felt...right. “Okay, go find a mem,” Ai said. She wrapped her fingers around an orange and blue one, pausing long enough to see Bala pick out a new mem of her own before the car pulled into its spot and slid smoothly to a halt. “Are you two ready to get some groceries?” asked Mommy, syrupy sweet. She turned off the engine with a flick of her wrist before getting out. Mommy opened my car door and unbuckled the straps that kept me secured to my car seat. A Little like me would never be able to do that, but Amazons like Mommy were so much stronger. She scooped me up and I buried my face into the crook of her arm. Soft wool caressed my cheeks and gently tickled my ears. “Uh huh,” I nodded, because I was ready. I was ready for anything she wanted. “I dunno why you’re asking. I'm not getting anything,” sulked Vivian, crossing her arms, though the pacifier stuck to her lips made it come out more like a mumble of syllables. Last week, Mommy had discovered that Vivian had been purposefully hiding her pacis around the house instead of sucking on them like a good girl. It wasn't anything a quick hypno tape session couldn't fix. Now, as long as a paci was in Vivian's mouth, she couldn't take it out. “You’re getting stuff, silly,” laughed Mommy as she walked to the other side of the car. “You’re getting things. I’m just along for the ride.” Vivian was really fussy, and Mommy didn’t deserve any of this. Mommy had told me, though, that Vivian’s maturosis had flared up recently and that it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t behave. I just had to set a good example for her and be the best Little that I could be. `“You’re not old enough to make good decisions about what you eat,” Mommy said patiently as she picked Vivian up and put the Little on her other hip. Vivian had a sour look on her face, like she’d been sucking on a lemon, and I knew she was biting down some kind of catty remark. Mommy was patient, but even she had her limits. I wiggled against Mommy, wanting to press myself into her so closely that our molecules would mingle. Mommy carried us into the store and set us onto a shopping cart. This one had room for two Littles side-by-side. The little plastic baby seat didn’t seem like it would have normally been comfortable, but my padded butt sunk onto it as nicely as my head onto a pillow. My feet dangled in the air, so I idly kicked them while Mommy strapped Vivian in next to me. As Mommy fought with the buckle, I saw an independent Little walk in. He had that furtive walk that independent Littles always did, eyes swiveling constantly, as if he were afraid that danger lurked behind every corner. The Little, who looked rather smart in his crisp tweed suit, grabbed one of the tiny shopping carts that Amazon children sometimes pushed around before his eyes met Vivian's. Vivian and the stranger just stared at each other. I watched as the tips of Vivian’s ears turned beet red and she squirmed in her seat, as if she were trying to hide. Her petticoats rustled as her body strained against the straps to no avail. Finally, the man broke eye contact and quickly pushed his cart away, darting ahead of Mommy, who wheeled us around at a much more leisurely pace. Mommy parked us by the vegetable aisle and started bundling up produce, leaving Vivian and me temporarily alone. Hot tears of frustration snaked down from the corners of Vivian's eyes, which she furiously wiped away with the back of her hands. “I hate ‘dis,” she mumbled around her pacifier. Her eyes looked longingly at the daikons that Mommy weighed on a scale. No doubt Vivian was dreaming of eating adult food again, instead of the mashed up baby food that met the nutrition requirements for Littles. I hated seeing my little sister upset. I knew, as the big sister, that I had to do what I could to help. “Maybe you should focus on the positives,” I said as Mommy shifted her attention to the bok choy. Vivian glared at me. The incredulous scowl looked out of place wrapped around a pacifier with a cute cartoon dragon on it. “I’m not going native like you!” she swore angrily. But as Mommy returned and dropped another bag into the cart, her expression reverted to one more placid and neutral. “You two are being so good,” she chirped. Her words were like drops of liquid sunshine, warming my body and setting it pleasantly aglow. “Especially you, Vivian,” she added, ruffling her hair and gently popping the pacifier out of the Little’s mouth. It dangled on its clip and Mommy went to find the next item on her list. Vivian’s frown slid back on as suddenly as it had left. “What could possibly be good about losing all of my freedom?” she asked, contorting her face into funny expressions as she stretched her sore jaw. I knew a lot about this topic. “You have to focus on things you can control,” I said. “Just try it. Name just three things that you like about your life now.” “There isn’t anything,” said Vivian sourly. “Well, I guess you can just be miserable for the rest of your life,” I huffed. There were limits to my patience, too. We sat in silence as Mommy returned and pushed us onwards. There was a small hiccup as a Little boy in denim overalls angrily flicked a jar of pickles off the shelf. It hit the floor with a crash, spilling shards of broken glass around the blast radius. “No!” he yelled, clenching his fists so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white from exertion. “You can’t treat me like this!” continued the Little, though all evidence pointed to the contrary. His Daddy opted to merely raise an eyebrow and wait the tantrum out. Vivian and I could only stare as the Little continued making a scene. His hands darted to the sides of his diaper, which had a picture of Snowy the Cat on the front. His fingernails desperately scratched at the underside of the tapes, trying to gain purchase. The little muscles on his biceps throbbed as he tried to take the diaper off, but he wasn’t strong enough. His sobs turned feral with anguish as he thrashed impotently, failing to even disturb the cart he was sitting in. Bystanders murmured to each other as his energy gave out. He lay slumped over in his seat, defeated, quietly whimpering. “Sounds like someone’s earned a trip to the hypno screen,” his Daddy said cheerfully. “I’m glad you two are much better behaved,” said Mommy casually, wheeling us to the spice aisle. As she hunted for anise and fennel, Vivian and I just looked at each other. I saw hesitation behind those fierce brown eyes. There wasn’t any escape. There was only acceptance. Her only choice was whether it would be freely given or coerced out of her. “I’m glad that I don’t have to go to work anymore,” she said finally, breaking eye contact. I beamed. “No more worrying about money,” I added on encouragingly. “Mommy makes sure we never go hungry.” Vivian nodded slowly. “I don’t have to diet,” she said. “Freedom from choice,” I said. “No more counting calories. No more fretting about your career. Whatever Mommy decides you’re doing is the right thing.” It was true. At Vivian's first checkup, the doctor had said that Vivian had a few problems with her diet: she had high cholesterol from all the fast food she used to eat. But Mommy kept her on a healthy, Little-appropriate diet, and after even just a few months, her next checkup had gone a lot better. “And what about something about your diapers?” I knew this was the worst part. It was the thing most Littles had difficulty adjusting to. “Hell—gosh no,” Vivian said, not quite catching herself in time. Her head swiveled, looking to see if Mommy had overheard, but luckily, Mommy was talking with one of the employees about coupons. I reached over and gave her diaper a gentle pat. Not the way an Amazon would. Just a friendly pat, between two Littles. “I bet there’s something. Isn’t it convenient not having to hold it? You can keep playing or watching TV without needing to take a break.” Vivian scowled. “That’s fine for you, but not for me,” she sulked. I’d dealt with patients in a past life. I’d been a nurse. Part of what made a good nurse was their bedside manner. It was about being there for someone when they were struggling, even if there wasn’t anything you could do. “You’re an adopted Little,” I said. “You can’t change that. You’ll be in diapers for the rest of your life. But you can control your attitude. You’ll forever be a Mommy’s little girl, but it’s up to you whether you like it or hate it. Only you can decide that.” I watched as Vivian mulled over the words. “Focus on the positives,” she mumbled. “Look what I have for you,” Mommy said in a singsong cadence. She held up a can of condensed milk. “I think my little girls deserve a treat.” She leaned in close and gently kissed Vivian’s forehead. “I know how much you love condensed milk.” Here we were. Normally, my sister would grit her teeth and take it. In her past life, she could have eaten what she wanted. She didn’t need these handouts. Or, she could accept the gift and find joy in the moment. I saw a battle rage across Vivian’s face before her eyes softened. “Thanks, Mommy,” she said earnestly, and I’d never been more proud to realize that the mem was over, a new storm of emotions jolting through Ai like lightning in a bottle. She was struck by how kind Bala was. She just wanted what was best for Vivian. The love she had with her Mommy was pure and sweet and too big to keep to herself. Sharing her joy was the greatest gift Bala could have given Vivian. It was an act of love. Not a romantic love. This went deeper. It was the simple love of happiness, of finding joy in the moment, in the little things. Ai didn’t think she was a bad person. She knew that everybody was the hero of their own story and that the world was a complex postmodern novel. Ai didn’t break any laws and she tried to be a good friend. But she’d never really helped others, either. She didn’t donate money. She didn’t volunteer. It wasn’t convenient. The Bala in the mem had such a pure heart that it left a painful ache in Ai’s chest. It was so simple: doing the right thing didn't have to be complicated at all. You could help your friends when they were sad. Ai was filled with determination. She’d make sure to help Bala however she could. “I built this place,” Bala whispered. She stood, brushing her fingers against the metal shelves. “I designed it. The room.” “Why?” Ai asked. “I don’t know," Bala said. "But I know I had to.” “Did someone make you?” A surge of protectiveness filled Ai. If someone had forced this sweet girl to do anything she didn’t want to— “No, not exactly,” Bala said. She paused, sifting through her memory of a memory. Ai knew that “Even with a mem,” Salman said as I stared, transfixed by the swirling colors in the palm of my mentor's hand, “you can’t really experience it the same way twice. You’re not the same person that you were when you made the mem. You can’t help but interpret everything through the you of the present.” “So, what’s the point then?” I asked. There sure seemed to be a lot of limitations on these things! Though it explained why they weren’t in widespread use. “You just have to remember,” Salman explained, “that what you’re seeing is a memory of a memory. Just as you cannot step in the same stream twice, because your presence irreversibly changes the flow of the water, you imprint yourself onto the mem as much as it does on you.” I blinked as she realized that Bala had started talking. Ai caught the tail end of the sentence: "...so I had to for myself." She let go of the memory and anchored herself back in the present. "Because..." Bala continued haltingly, "well...these mems were important to me. I knew that I couldn't lose them." “So this is like a library?” Ai asked. “I think so. I put my mems here for safekeeping, in case I ever needed them again.” "That doesn't make any sense," Ai snapped in frustration. "Look around. Do you see any labels?" She gestured at the silent walls all around them. "That's not even taking into account the fact that you have one of my mems. It doesn't fit." “I dunno,” sulked Bala. “I’m just telling you what I saw in the mem. I’d just finished extracting out the last mem. I must have extracted even the memory of making this place, because I only had vague feelings. I’d designed this place carefully. It was supposed to be a secret. So I put the last mem in its place on the shelf, took one last look around, and then I left. I sealed the door shut behind me. That's all I know.” The girl puffed out her cheeks in frustration. Guilt surfaced, leaving a bitter taste on Ai’s tongue. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was criticizing. I thought you were very helpful. I’m just trying to figure out why we’re here, that’s all. Okay?” Bala nodded, but her face told a different story. “Can I give you a hug?” Ai asked. She waited for the girl to nod before she stepped in and squeezed. Bala’s small body folded itself to Ai’s curves, like they had been made for each other. Ai could feel the telltale thickness of what she now knew to be a diaper around Bala’s hips as the girl melted in her arms. Ai closed her eyes. Bala smelled softly of lavender and sweetness. It felt oddly nostalgic. The only thing that was missing, thought Ai, was a diaper of her own.

Thanks @superabsorbantpolymer for the kind words! Yup I don’t know why I waited so long, but I’m glad that I was inspired by@Beccathelittle - no more hiding!

That kind of makes her even less sympathetic. She is someone who fears modern achievements, and uses her own false judgments even if it does her daughter no good. It's incredibly uncomfortable, and I wish nothing but pain for this character.

I agree that Emily's mother's behavior is toxic, but she believes she is acting in Emily's best interest. In her view, conventional medicine is evil and must be kept away from her daughter at all costs. She sees her chosen therapy as the ultimate solution to Emily's problems, and believes that her boundary-crossing behavior is necessary to protect Emily from severe physical consequences.

The mother sounds like an awfully person. Threatening to ruin her child's life over a bedwetting issue. That's crazy toxic.

Chapter 3 Unfortunately, my bedwetting persisted. Despite my mother's aversion to conventional medicine, I saw my GP. The doctor diagnosed me with a bladder infection and prescribed antibiotics. But despite taking them, I continued to wake up in a wet bed every morning. While we were preparing dinner and I took the last pill of my antibiotics, my mother made a sarcastic comment about it, saying, "Chemicals seem to be working wonders." Despite my efforts, I couldn't conceal my ongoing bedwetting from her. And since I started the conventional treatment, she stopped offering her support and understanding towards my situation. She began to recount out a theory she had read in an article the previous night, regarding incontinence being related to traumatic experiences during the anal phase. She believed that stimuli, which don't have to be conscious, can reactivate these traumas in the brain, blocking access to brain areas where the ability to go to the toilet is stored. She concluded that this could be the reason for my bedwetting, as I had lost my father during this critical phase and that the stress from my high school graduation and moving could have reactivated the trauma. In my opinion this was nothing but pseudoscientific nonsense. I held my tongue as usual when my mother spouted nonsense, knowing it would only lead to more arguments between us. Even if I found it disrespectful that she was using my father's early death from cancer for her far-fetched theories. Although my mother was a smart woman and successful in her career, it was strange how often she spouted esoteric nonsense. What was even worse was that she was immune to criticism. Whenever her arguments were logically and consistently discredited, she would come up with ten more reasons why her theory must be correct. The discussions I had with her reminded me of a joke by the german comedian Vince Ebert, "An esoteric can spout more nonsense in five minutes than a scientist can't refute in a lifetime." "To treat incontinence, the anal phase and potty training routines must be re-experienced and re-learned, to overwrite traumatic memories blocking their recall," she finished her speech. She looked at me, expecting me to be at least as enthusiastic about her treatment proposal as she was. However, I didn't even had a plan of how this dubious treatment would look like in practice. After all, I couldn't travel back in time and relive my childhood. Maybe it would have been best if I hadn't commented on the matter at all, but in the end, my curiosity won out. "What do you mean by re-exprience the anal phase?" I asked with a skeptical expression. "Well, just go back to living the carefree life, like your younger sister does," she explained in detail. "Being taken care of, going to bed early, being reminded to go to the potty now and then, and wearing a pull-up at night in case something goes wrong." "You want me to wear diapers!?" I exclaimed, struggling to regain my composure. "Pull-ups! And you will wear them either way, because I'm not going to stand by and watch you ruin your expensive mattress any further," she clarified. "I've already bought a pack for you at the supermarket today. Trust me, they're hardly distinguishable from normal underwear, you won't even notice that you're wearing them. They're no different from a slightly thicker pad." I couldn't control myself any longer. "I am certainly not going to wear pull-ups! I am not a baby! You can try your quackery on someone else from now on, I'm not going to be a part of it anymore!" I snapped at her and angrily stormed out of the kitchen. "Well, then you can also find someone else to pay for your expensive biology degree in England!" My mother countered swiftly. I slammed my bedroom door behind me. She couldn't really mean that. Studying in England was my big dream, and it was impossible for me to finance everything without her help. This was not the first time my mother had blackmailed me like this; I was already too familiar with this game. For example, I had to treat my first menstrual cramps with homeopathic pills instead of painkillers, as she had threatened to cut off my allowance if I didn't. There was no improvement, but what did it matter if you used something natural like homeopathy? Who needed an effect or scientific proof when using something like that. My mother always knew exactly which pressure tactics she could use to make me obedient. But this time her nonsense had gone too far, this time I wouldn't be intimidated, no matter what it cost.

Matilda nearly gagged at the horrible, bitter syrup she had just swallowed. She pursed her lips and grimaced, before handing back the little plastic measuring cup. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the consistency or the fake cherry flavor that followed. “That should help you feel a bit better.” Hortensia’s mom said, putting the bottle of children’s Tylenol on a nearby shelf. Matilda sucked down water from the cup sitting next to her by the couch. The Pepto Bismal she had been given an hour ago hadn’t been nearly as bad, and the effects had been near miraculous. Despite her stomach no longer tossing about, she still had the distinct feeling of having recently been trampled. Her body ached, and the fever refused to break on its own. Matilda laid back down on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and wearing nothing but a large Spice Girls T-shirt and diaper that went up nearly to her belly button. True to her word, Hortensia’s mom had let her out of it to use the toilet, but found herself pinned right back into it with a bobby pin as soon as she was done. She tried to ask for regular panties now that things had calmed down, but Hortensia’s mom seemed to have no intention of setting her free. Hortensia herself sat on the floor cross-legged, a bag of her favorite potato chips open on the coffee table, and unfinished homework assignments in a pile. Matilda recognized the text book she was working out of as Year 5 arithmetic, the same one she had skimmed through last week, before Miss Honey had found her something a little more complicated. Matilda watched her for a minute. Her face seemed to cycle through concentration, confusion, and finally frustration. How she could even see any of the problems underneath all the crumbs was a mystery. “Why aren’t you in school?” Matilda asked, her curiosity finally winning out in the end. “I got suspended for the week.” Hortensia groaned. “Beats being put in the Chokey.” Matilda said. Hortensia shot her a panicked look and quickly put her finger to her lips. “What?” “You’ll get me in more trouble with Ma. She thinks I made that up, if she hears you talking about it, I won’t be able to sit for the rest of the night. She’ll just think I told you that to scare you.” Matilda scrunched up her face. “Your parents don’t believe you?” “Would yours?” she said, disbelieving. Matilda thought back to the time her own father had called her a liar after she told them about Bruce and the chocolate cake fiasco. Then again, Harry Wormwood had often called her a liar, among other things. “Can I ask you something, uh, weird?” Matilda asked after a moment of silence. Hortensia put down her pencil and eyed her. “If you answer mine.” Matilda gulped, but nodded and wrapped the blanket around herself tighter. She knew what was coming and had been dreading this conversation. “I know what I saw. You can deny it all you want, but I saw the remote just…” Matilda looked away. “What are you so worried about? That I’d tell? Who’d believe me? Watch. HEY MA!” Matilda felt the blood drain from her face. She stared at Hortensia, absolutely panic-stricken, pleading with her eyes to stop. “What?” came the reply as her mom strode in. Matilda’s heart began to beat rapidly inside her chest. “Matilda can move objects with her mind. I saw it.” Hortensia said. Why? Why would she do that to her? Matilda imagined herself getting carted off and studied. She couldn’t meet anyone's gaze as panic set in. Her stomach gurgled in protest from the stress, and before she could react, felt liquid fill the front and back of her diaper. “I thought I told you to stop making up stories! What have you been doing all this time? Why am I not seeing any progress with your homework?” The woman went on, chastising her daughter. Hortensia shot Matilda a look as if to say, “See what I mean?” It took a while for Matilda to relax, her body didn’t seem to be in the mood to handle any kind of adrenaline rushes. Part of her was livid, but the other part of her seemed to understand. It was something she had to see to believe. “I better see that pile of work done by the time I get home tonight!” Her mom finished. “This is NOT a vacation.” “Yes, Ma.” Hortensia mumbled, swiping away the crumbs off the textbook. Suddenly the anger was wiped from her face nearly as fast as it had come. She stared at Matilda, who felt herself sink into the couch. “Hun, how are you feeling?” “Uh- the s-same.” Matilda said, looking away. She could see the woman sniffing from the corner of her eye and felt heat creep to her face. “Did you have an accident?” She said in a somewhat lower voice, but not nearly low enough for Hortensia not to hear. She froze in place, unsure how to answer that. She had been waiting for the woman to leave the room, so she could rush off to the bathroom, throw away the evidence and say it had ripped trying to get it off. “N-no,” Matilda lied, before grimacing, her voice rising a few octaves higher than normal “I mean, I don’t think so, I’ll j-just go and-” “No need.” Hortensia’s mom said before pulling the blanket off her and making the smell more apparent. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up before I have to leave for work.” “N-no! I’ll do it myself.” Matilda insisted. “I-I have to go again anyway, so I’ll-” but before she could finish her sentence, Hortensia’s mom cut her off. “No, I don’t want you making a mess. I have to leave soon, It’ll be easier if I do it.” “But,” Matilda tried to protest. “That’s gross!” “So is sitting in a messy diaper and not saying anything. C’mon.” She pulled Matilda up by the arm to a standing position. “If you still need to go, you can finish now before I change you.” Matilda was horrified. Her face was beginning to burn from the shame and embarrassment. Tears prickled her eyes. She looked at Hortensia for help, but she just shrugged. “She works at the old folk's home; she’s used to worse.” Hortensia explained as if that would make her feel better. “Y-you said I could use the bathroom!” Matilda insisted, backing away. “Yes, but now you're covered in poop, and I don’t have time to clean up after you if I let you take it off. Now let’s go. I’m not going to ask you again.” Hortensia’s mom came up behind her and gave her a somewhat firm push on her back to get her moving towards the bedroom. Matilda was crying now as she walked towards the bedroom, still fighting with her stomach. “I don’t want to go in the diaper!” “I know, but we all have to do things we don’t want to.” The woman said in an annoyed voice. Matilda could feel the anger begin to well in her. If she made a mess, she’d just clean it up herself! She’d been taking care of herself for most of her life! Why was this woman treating her like such a child? If only Matilda was older! She wouldn’t treat her like this if she was Hortensia’s age. “Up on the bed.” She patted the changing mat from before. Matilda gritted her teeth, but reluctantly climbed up and laid on her side. “Have you finished?” Her clenched fists and wiggling gave her away. She felt a hand push her onto her back. “What are you doi- NO!” Matilda nearly shouted in horror. The older woman had clasped Matilda’s legs in her hands and began bicycling them up and down. Matilda knew what she was trying to make her do! She had seen this exercise in a book. It was for making constipated babies poop. “Please stop!” “This will help dislodge anything stuck and release any trapped gas.” Matilda whimpered, feeling herself lose control with every other pump of her legs. “Don’t fight it, relax and let it all come out on its own.” She pushed Matilda’s legs in towards her body before pulling them out one final time. She laid on her back, breathless and horrified, after a single loud squelching sound announced that the exercise had done its job. Her body shook with sobs as the diaper was unpinned. This was wrong! This was all so wrong! She felt degraded as her legs were lifted in the air and a wet wipe had begun to clean. “You’re going to make yourself sick to your stomach if you keep crying like that.” Matilda glared at her as a fresh diaper was slid underneath. It was taking all her will power not to lose control of her temper. She didn’t want to cause a different kind of accident. One that involved things shooting around the room instead of shooting out of her. She needed to control herself, or she really would pull a “Carrie.” Ugh, she wished she had listened to Miss Honey and put the book back. The thought of accidentally hurting someone had never crossed her mind until she had read that book! Once a fresh diaper had been taped up, Matilda tried to sit up, but Hortensia’s mom stopped her. “I think it’s better if you stayed here. I can tell you’re getting cranky. I think a nap will do you some good.” Matilda wanted to retort, but the woman turned and left. Hortensia was leaning in the doorway watching her. Matilda could start to taste blood in her mouth. She had been biting down on her tongue so hard she had begun to make it bleed. Did she just… did she just get put down for a nap? Yes, she felt sick. Yes, she was tired. Yes, she wanted to throw something! “You see what I put up with?” Hortensia mumbled, before coming in and closing the door behind her. Matilda looked around the room and saw a stuffed animal sitting on the floor. She stretched her hand out and made the toy rise into the air before launching it across the room. She did this a few more times, knowing full well Hortensia was watching her in awe. “How long have you been able to do that?” Hortensia asked once Matilda had calmed down. “I don’t know, a month, I guess. I got furious at my dad for ripping up a library book and forcing me to watch tv. So I sort of just… blew it up.” Hortensia gawked at her. “You just, sort of, blew it… up?” She repeated, making it sound more like a question. “Your parents made you watch the television, instead of read, so you blew up the tv…” “Not on purpose!” Matilda threw in. “It just sort of happened and-” “Your parents made you watch television instead of read.” Hortensia said, a blissful, dreamy look across her face. Matilda rolled her eyes and launched the stuffed dog at her. “Can we trade parents? Please?” Matilda was about to readily agree. She could have the Wormwords and all the television she could ever want, but a sad realization crossed through her mind at the last second. Yes, their home lives were different, but in the end, they were just two kids whose thoughts, feelings, and concerns fell on deaf ears. No wonder Hortensia acted out so much. “What about your dad?” Matilda asked. Hortensia shrugged. “Not around much. Long haul trucker. What did you want to ask me earlier?” Matilda bit her lip. It wasn’t really something she felt comfortable coming out and asking, so instead she tried to nonchalantly stear the topic there. “How many times have you been in the Chokey?” Hortensia puffed out her chest with pride. “Six.” Now it was Matilda’s turn to gawk. “Six?” She shuddered. “Two times, she even left me in there all day!” “I’ve only been in there once; that was enough for me.” “You?” Hortensia scoffed. “What in the word did a squirt like you do to piss her off?” “She thought I was stealing books from her office.” Hortensia scrunched up her face. “I’ve snooped through her office plenty of times, the only books she has in there are old textbooks, and who’d take those?” “Miss Honey.” Matilda admitted. “She thought I wasn’t placed in the right year when I started school here, but when she tried to have me promoted, the Trunchbull said ‘no’”. So she gave them to me to work out of during class.” Hortensia looked as horrified as if Matilda had suggested it was Miss Honey herself who had thrown her in the Chokey. “She gives you extra work?” “Not extra, just different. Sort of like independent study, I suppose.” “Independent study? You mean you don’t have to follow along with the class?” “When the Trunchbull is there, I do, and,” Matilda slipped into a conspiratorial whisper, “sometime’s I give Lavender the answer when she’s called on and doesn’t know.” “How in the bloody hell did you manage that sweet deal? What I wouldn’t give to not get smacked every time I got caught not paying attention.” Hortensia sighed. Then, as if realization dawned on her, she narrowed her eyes and took in Matilda. “You know, now that you mention it, you don’t talk like any of the other squirts and scum.” “What do you mean?” Matilda didn’t think she sounded any different from any of the other kids in her class. “I noticed it earlier, too. You said you were, ‘furious’ not ‘mad’ ‘angry’ ‘pissed’, but ‘furious’.” “Of course, I was livid! He tore up a library book!” Matilda exclaimed, before adding, “I think you’re the only one who says things like ‘pissed’.” “How many five-year-olds use words like ‘furious’ and’ livid’?” Hortensia said. “Oh,” Matilda said. “I thought you were referring to an accent, not my vocabulary.” Hortensia rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just showing off.” Matilda frowned. She wasn’t trying to sound superior. She’d like few things more than to simply blend in, as long as it meant she could keep reading instead of watching the telly of course. She knew Hortensia wasn’t being serious about her showing off, so she figured she could have a little fun. “Preadolescent homosapien, are you proposing I would flaunt my intellectual prowess for mere jovial amusement?” On any other day she knew could have come up with something better and far wittier, but today had been especially dreadful, and her brain felt like jelly. Hortensia furrowed her eye brows. “Did you just call me a homo? I ain’t no homo, twerp. Do I look homeless to you?” Hortensia replied with a scowl. Matilda merely blinked. “Uh, right.” Matilda said. For the first time, her mind had drawn a blank. She had no way to respond to that. There was so much wrong with that statement, she didn’t know where to start. “I’m surprised you know what a homo is, though! It’s a shame Trunchbull wouldn’t put you in with the 2nd years. You’re like one of those genies. ” Right, Matilda thought to herself, second year. And wait? Genie? “You mean genius? Because last time I checked, I can’t grant wishes.” “Yeah, that.” Hortensia said. “Besides, you have magical powers, maybe I did mean genie. Have you ever tried to grant a wish?” Hortensia said. “I’m not a genius,” Matilda said matter-of-factly. “And no, can’t say I’ve ever tried to grant wishes.” She said with mild bemusement. She made a show of scrunching up her face in concentration, before lifting her shirt. “Nope, can’t grant wishes. I’m still in a diaper.” “Well, genies can’t grant their own wishes, obviously.” They went back and forth, blurting out what they’d wish for if they ever found a genie, each wish becoming more and more outlandish and silly. “…a pool of chocolate pudding.” “. . . A refrigerator that dispensed chocolate milk instead of water.” “Bags of chips that weren’t half air!” “I think,” Matilda said after a pause, growing serious. “I’d wish I was an adult, so people would listen. It’s awful being small.” “No, don’t wish that! You can get away with so much more when you’re small! People still think you’re cute. Every year gets worse! You have Miss Honey as a teacher; You’ve still got it good, unless, of course, you cross Miss Trunchbull. She hates small children especially. Always manages to send one or two to the hospital every year. What’s worse, there was a kid in my form called Billy Reyes. Three years ago, I think, he went missing and no one’s ever seen him since.” “What happened?” Matilda asked. “They said he went missing walking home, but you know what I think?” Hortensia dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think the Trunchbull, you know…” she dragged her thumb across her neck for emphasis. “He’s not the only one, either. I know there’s been kids that have gone missing since before I went there.” Matilda shivered. She remembered what Hortensia had said before. What do you think would have happened if Amanda Thripp hadn’t cleared that fence? She shuddered again. She was horrified that she found the idea of the Trunchbull murdering children so… so….plausible. No! No sane person would ever entertain the idea. It was impossible! Outlandish! Absolutely bonkers! Yet, if someone told her their teacher spun a girl around by the hair and hammer threw her off school property just for wearing pigtails… Honestly, she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it herself. “Hortensia, don’t you think, maybe, it would be a good idea to stop provoking her? I- I’m rather fond of you, and I’d hate to see you get injured.” Hortensia looked as if Matilda had suggested she stop eating potato chips and take up grazing on kale. “You’re just a shrimp; you wouldn’t understand. It’s not just for laughs.” “Then why? You could get seriously hurt if you make her mad enough.” “Look around, squirt. Kids are already getting hurt. You know what the adults do about it? Not a damn thing! They’re cowards. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. You know why all the parents call us liars? Because it’s easier than entertaining the possibility that our principal is a deranged psychopath. Even if all I can do is pour honey on her chair, and itching powder in her shorts, at least I feel like I’m doing something.” Matilda gazed up at her with a new-found respect. She wasn’t a troublemaker. She was a brave and courageous crusader, leading the charge against a formidable adversary despite near impossible odds. In Matilda’s eyes, she was a hero. ……. It was nearly dark by the time Miss Honey had come to collect Matilda, who had been pacing worriedly in the living room. School let out at three, and here it was nearly six. Relief flooded her when she finally heard a knock. Hortensia answered the door and let a very frazzled and exhausted looking Miss Honey inside. “Jenny!” Matilda yelled, nearly bowling her over in a near bone crushing hug. “I was so worried!” “I’m so sorry, Matilda!” Miss Honey said, wrapping her in an equally tight embrace. “Careful, Miss Honey,” Hortensia warned. “If you squeeze her, she’ll, uh, blow.” Matilda ignored her. “How are you feeling, dear?” Miss Honey asked, looking Matilda over. “You look better. Do you think it’s all out of your system?” “And all over me and my front yard!” Hortensia threw in. Matilda shot her a dirty look. “Did something happen?” Miss Honey asked. Hortensia grinned as Matilda shook her head with near bug eyes. “Made a bit of a mess when she first got here, is all. Ma had to rinse her, and anything within a six-foot radius of her, down with the hose. You’re lucky you missed it.” Matilda felt an arm pull her closer. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you.” She wanted to ask why she was so late, but it didn’t matter. She was here now. The adrenaline that filled her moments before was quickly crashing. She let out a yawn and stretched her arms over her head. The T-shirt she was wearing rode up, and Miss Honey asked, “Why are you wearing a diaper?” Matilda blushed and buried her face into Miss Honey’s dress. “Oh, Ma made her. Matilda was like a fire breathing dragon, but instead of her mouth, it was her arse, and instead of fire, it was sh-”. “Thank you, Hortensia, I understand.” Miss Honey said, cutting her off. “I hate to ask this after everything, but I don’t think I should take her to school tomorrow. Would you mind terribly if she stayed here with you?” Hortensia shrugged. “Sure, she’s alright, for a shrimp.” Hortensia handed her a bag. “Ma wanted me to give you this. It’s got medicine and extra, you know, in case Mount Matilda erupts again.” “Thank you, hopefully we won’t need them.” Miss Honey said, bending down and picking up the exhausted five-year-old and letting her rest her head on her shoulder. Matilda wrapped her arms around Miss Honey, and when the woman turned and began to walk out the door, Matilda locked eyes with Hortensia, and smiled mischievously. It was payback time. While Miss Honey was walking away, Matilda narrowed her eyes and made a slashing motion with a finger. Hortensia’s pants crumpled to a ball by her ankles. … “Is there anything else I can do to help you feel more comfortable?” Miss Honey asked. Matilda bit her lip. “What? What is it?” “Would you read to me, Jenny?” Matilda asked from her side of the bed. Usually, it was Matilda who read out loud before they went to sleep. “I’ve never had a bedtime story before.” “Of course! What would you like me to read?” “Anything is fine; I just want to hear you read.” Matilda admitted. Miss Honey grabbed the nearest book, and joined Matilda in bed. Matilda stared at her with longing. What she really wanted was to cuddle up with her, but she didn’t want to risk getting her sick, although she supposed, it was probably too late for that. Despite remaining quiet, Miss Honey seemed to sense it. She lifted the blanket. “Come here.” She held her arms out. Matilda waited a second, before throwing caution to the wind. She eagerly scooted over and let Jenny wrap her in a warm embrace. Matilda sighed contentedly as Miss Honey stroked her hair and face. They both quickly forgot about the book. “Matilda, could I ask you something?” Jennifer said. “Hmm?” came the mumbled response. “Why do you call me Jenny?” She felt Matilda slightly stiffen in her arms. “I’m sorry, silly me. You’re unwell, you must not be up for this kind of conversation.” “Do you not want me to call you that? Would you prefer something else?” Matilda knew it wasn’t very polite to call adults by their first names, but she had thought they were more than just child and adult to each other. She frowned. Miss Honey herself had said she could as long as it wasn’t at school. “No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just, I would very much like it if you saw me as your mother. You had even started to call me ‘mom’ but then you suddenly just stopped and went back to Jenny.” She could feel Matilda stiffen again, and she stayed silent for a long time. “I tried but, to be honest, I just don’t see you like that.” Jennifer felt her heart crash to her stomach. “O-oh..” she tried to sound normal, but her voice caught. “T-that’s…” Her eyes began burning with tears of hurt and disappointment. Matilda suddenly bolted up when she heard her breath begin to hitch. “That’s not what I meant! Oh god!” Matilda said, looking at Jennifer's red and puffy eyes with horror. “I-t’s fine! Y-you don’t have to explain.” Miss Honey said, cursing the tears that had begun to fall. Pull yourself together, you pathetic miserable woman! You are supposed to be here for her! It is not a five-year-old's job to coddle you! “My brain just really isn’t working today!” Matilda sighed. “I don’t call you mom, because I think it would be insulting to you.” “I don’t understand.” “When I think of the word, ‘mom’ it doesn’t make me feel good. I still think of her. I think of the words selfish, horrible, shallow, unkind. I think of all the times she called me stupid, annoying, a wart. I think of cans of soup left on a burner, and loneliness. I even remember when I was a baby!” Miss Honey was about to say, “no one remembers their time as a baby”, but she stopped before she opened her mouth. This was Matilda, and with her extraordinary mind, it was very well possible she could. So she stayed silent and let her continue. “She’d put me in a bouncer or high chair and leave me there for hours! I’d be left in the same disgusting diaper all day long. I remember the rashes! The pain! And they had the nerve to yell and whine at me for making a mess or crying. I toilet trained myself at one just to make it all stop!” Now it was Matilda’s turn to start crying. “You’re none of those things, Jenny, and I know you’d never do anything like that to me or anyone. You’re the kindest, warmest, and most caring person I’ve ever met. You make me feel safe, and loved, and everything I spent hours wishing for!” Matilda held Miss Honey’s face in her tiny hands. “You’re so much more to me than that; You’re like my fairy god mother who came and rescued me and made everything better! How could I compare something so dirty and horrible to something so pure and wonderful as you?” “Oh Matilda!” Miss Honey choked out. She pulled Matilda into a tight embrace, and whispered in her ear. “You’re everything I’ve always wished for, too! I love you so much! You rescued me, darling, not the other way around.” They held each other long into the night, neither wanting to be the reason they broke apart. Jenny was perfectly fine, Miss Honey thought to herself. It wasn’t the word that mattered, but the feelings behind them. Now that she understood Matilda’s train of thought, her heart felt lighter and more at ease than it ever had. Was this what love felt like? As she gazed at the young girl splayed out over her chest, she smiled and made a silent vow. Jennifer would replace that painful past of Matilda’s and fill her mind instead with loving, and fun memories they would both cherish forever. For her daughter, she would do anything. And maybe one day, that word that filled her with so much pain would one day be full of thoughts of the love they had for each other instead. Matilda would know when the time was right, Jennifer wasn’t going to bring it up again. Yes, she thought as she closed her eyes. Jenny was perfectly fine. … When the morning came, Matilda yawned and stretched, before slowly cracking open her eyes. She found Miss Honey propped up on an elbow watching her with a large dopey smile Matilda had never seen before. “What?” Matilda asked with a self-conscious grin. “You just look so adorable like that.” Matilda sat up, letting the covers fall off her. Some time in the night, she must have taken off her shirt, leaving her only in the dry diaper from the night before. She had been too tired to change when they had gotten home, opting instead to go straight to bed. “It’s more comfy without a shirt.” Matilda said, shrugging before laying back down. “You should try it.” Miss Honey laughed. “I think I’ll just let you enjoy it.” Matilda frowned. “How come? You wear such uncomfortable looking gowns to bed.” “Uh, well, to be honest, I don’t like being undressed. It makes me uncomfortable.” Miss Honey said. “Really? Why?” Matilda asked, moving her arms about. “I feel so free.” Miss Honey smiled, her eyes full of sadness. She was going to end the conversation with a “I just don’t,” or, “It would be inappropriate,” but decided against it. Matilda had been so open with her about her past last night, even though it was difficult. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath and said, “Much like you, I did not have a happy childhood. If saying and thinking about the word, ‘mom’ is what sets you back, then small enclosed spaces and being undressed are mine.” Matilda nodded her head solemnly. “I understand.” “I wish you didn’t.” Jennifer said. Matilda watched her pick out her clothes for the day before heading into the bathroom. Matilda sighed and closed her eyes, thinking about last night. She loved cuddling up with Jenny, but her night shirts were so uncomfortable. She had almost asked her to take it off, but now she was glad she didn’t. Matilda was a little disappointed, though. She had no idea why, but she’d been having this overwhelming desire to lay on Jenny’s bare chest at night, skin to skin, and just be held like last night. Was that weird? The thought of being held, feeling her body heat and listening to her heart beat sounded so appealing. She felt a little depressed now, knowing it would never happen. Matilda heard the shower turn on and winced. She rolled over, trying to ignore the pressure building in her bladder, but the sound of running water wasn’t helping. She crossed and uncrossed her legs and wiggled underneath the covers. She’d be out in a bit, Matilda told herself. Jenny never took very long showers. A few minutes went by, and then a few more. Matilda groaned into her pillow. She couldn’t wait much longer. She pushed herself up and stood at the bathroom door before knocking. “Umm, Jenny? Are you going to be much longer? I need to pee.” “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m right in the middle of shaving. Do you think you can hang on for another ten or fifteen minutes?” Matilda winced. “Probably not.” She admitted. “Shoot! Umm, well, you know, you could always just-” “Please, no.” Matilda said. She knew she was about to suggest peeing in the diaper. “I think it would hurt an awful lot.” “Oh, you're right, I’m sorry, I forgot about that. Well, I guess if you can’t hold it, then go ahead and come in.” “Thank you! I’ll be quick!” She dashed to the toilet, paying no mind to the silhouette behind the curtain. “Oh, just whatever you do, don’t flu-” Miss Honey began to say, but it was too late. Matilda had already pulled the lever by habit. She winced and stepped back. “Sorry!” She yelled. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Miss Honey screamed and jumped out from behind the curtain. “Oh that’s cold!” She spun around and froze. Matilda stood gaping at her, nearly open-mouthed. Miss Honey tried to cover herself, but Matilda had already seen. “No! Stop!” Matilda said. She came closer, eyes wide with horror, but utterly transfixed. “Oh, Jenny,“ She said softly. Jennifer flinched as Matilda lightly traced the discolored, circular marks around her abdomen, hips, chest, upper thighs and back. She let Matilda circle her and investigate, there was no point hiding it now. She fought against the urge to cover herself. “Jenny,” Matilda said again. “Are these all burns?” “Yes.” Miss Honey said softly “How? Why?” Matilda began to ask, but froze. She recognized them now from the ashtray in her old living room. “These are from cigars.” “Yes.” Miss Honey said again with a sigh. She reached out and turned the water off in the shower before wrapping a towel around herself. “The Trunchbull?” Matilda whispered. “Yes.” A rage was growing inside Matilda like she had never felt before. She could hardly see straight. Words her father had said to her once echoed in her mind. “When a person is bad, that person needs to be taught a lesson.” Yes. It was time they taught the Trunchbull a lesson.

I definitely agree with Joyce's adrenaline-induced panic, though what might vary is how quickly she can escape the heat of the moment, at least temporarily. I won't try to comment on it too much though, in hopes that the chapter can do most of the talking for itself. Uh-oh. Am I mis-remembering my own writing? The only time I can think of her doing that was when she was sick, or there may have been a night while sleeping with Joyce? I remember the situation though being a conscious (albeit sleepy) choice on her part. So if all my ducks are in a row...no accidents caused by drinking...yet? Extra packing certainly means the possibility for it. But above all else, I think it's just a testament to how "Mommy-mode" Joyce can be. After all, if she were on diaper duty I can't imagine she'd leave Emily hanging without a few extra changes? Decent people indeed! Taking the average of her new acquaintances. Rebecca I think will be a fun character, and without giving much away, she's part of the breadcrumb trail I've been piecing together. Hopefully I can close in on that soon. Uh-oh. Stranger danger. Unfortunately, I don't know if this universe has the sort of ideal kidnappers like that...Only the more malicious kind, I'd imagine. I'm sure they do exist out there though? Another story for another time! Temper tantrum Emily. A fearsome foe indeed. Though, I can say with confidence that we have yet to see her wrath. Who knows if it'll ever come? As soon as the adjective "Amazonian" or "little" was used, clearly. Every ABDL story is either a Diaper Dimension story or one that has yet to become one. (It's not though. Not this one. So the rule of thumb was a lie, I guess...) Possibly? I don't think you'll find any sort of set-in-stone gimmie that'd allude to that sort of thing. Thinking off the top of my head, the closest I've gotten to references/easter eggs in this story have been two subtle call-backs to two other stories I've had on a different forum. One is slightly more tangible than the other though, but they're just tiny little things that are probably close enough to just be an inside joke. Thank you very much! Since I'm guilty of leaving such large gaps between releases, hearing things like this means a lot to me. 35 - Little Miss Summers A bell? A tracking chip? Abandon all the fantasies and just use a child leash as she jokingly intended? A flurry of thoughts raced through her mind. She barely even stopped for the many faces that tried to steal her attention as she left the dance hall. Up until then it had been such an excruciating balance of maintaining her persona while trying to stuff away the sheer panic of trying to find her little girl the entire time! She’d been having the occasional drink just to portray the image that she was socializing and mingling, yet none of the alcohol in her system seemed to do anything to calm her nerves. She would have normally been a slight bit buzzed by now after all the refills she’d had, yet there was none of that. A mere pittance of water scarcely did anything to stop a raging fire. She wasn’t mad, she was simply anxious and worried. How couldn’t she be? She’d convinced her number one responsibility to embark with her on a gauntlet of social intimidation. She promised her number one responsibility that she would care for her every step of the way. She promised her number one responsibility that she’d keep a close watch on her all night, implying that their hands would never leave each other. Did Emily wander off on her own? When did she even leave the party? What if she’d been gone somewhere else the entire night and it was only by chance that she was found in the lobby? The long elevator ride in isolation gave her time to silently reflect on all the absolutely horrible, terrible possibilities that offered so little excuses for Joyce’s actions and inability. Her four faint reflections on every wall shared in the madness as she ran a hand through her hair. Why did this bother her so much? Emily is an adult. She was, she knew that… But in her heart, much like her failed promises tonight, they were only words. Every time Joyce told herself that she’d do better, it only seemed to hurt that much more when she inevitably went back on it by somehow messing up, if not worse, just as horribly… Had she been too lenient? She knew Emily wasn’t holding her hand at the banquet table...She made the conscious decision to let her roam close by. She decided herself to take her attention off her for just a measly minute…! It was the strangest battle Joyce had seemed to encounter in her mind. For once, if for what felt like a rational moment, was the side of herself that chose to believe in Emily as an adult and her girlfriend...wrong? The Mommy in her never would have let Emily stray no more than an inch. The Mommy in her would have kept a firm hold on her hand. The Mommy in her would have made her keep her phone so she could reach her if need be! She didn’t even have a room key to get back to the room if she wanted! But...that was so Emily would stay nearby, but… An audible groan of frustration left her lips as Joyce seemed to be splitting hairs. It was all so...confusing. So tiring… At every turn when she even began to think of Emily as somehow liable, it only routed back to her own incompetence. Emily’s going to do unpredictable things. The unexpected is going to happen. It’s my job to expect these things, and it’s my job to keep a hold on her… All the steam leaving her ears from tired and strained thought made the lobby feel like a shivering draft in comparison once the doors finally opened. Of course, the water fountain and glass windows may have affected that as well, somewhat. She was about to become manic when her eyes couldn’t immediately find Emily. Now not having to deal with the business dinner and its patrons, she was ready to storm the front desk immediately and demand a building-wide search. But thankfully it did not come to that. “Ms. Summers!” A distant call echoed across the marbled floor through the gushing water fountain. Joyce spun her head and briskly walked around the fountain. It was indescribable once she saw her. A thousand little knots that cascaded from her mind to her heart and stomach all seemed to loosen without friction and drown herself in relief. She half-ran as best as her heels allowed over to the pair. The words she’d say didn’t even come to mind as the distance closed. It was a bit sad to say, but Sheila had only just started to become more than an afterthought. After the phone call all she could seem to register was that Emily had been found. It didn’t matter who did it because the ends certainly justified the means, which is why she couldn’t have cared less about what those means were. “Emily?” Joyce raised the pitch of her voice as the tone softened into a delicate comfort. All the inner rage and confusion had all been swept aside so easily. Seeing the one she loved the most had so profoundly shut down anything in her mind that could have been toxic to her little girl. She didn’t see her girlfriend in that split second. She saw what validated all the things in her warped, yet honest mind. “I think she’s asleep right now...” Sheila explained in a lowered voice, still dealing with Emily’s head resting on her shoulder. Though, the tone of her voice still implied the slight awkward out-of-place feeling she had. She was used to working with one person only, not physically dealing with their companions, too. And make no mistake in assuming that Joyce wasn’t acutely aware of their postures. Emily was indeed asleep on Sheila’s shoulder. Another person’s shoulder, and not Joyce’s. But even for her that was being irrational. She killed the unhinged jealousy with swiftness and stayed focused. Sheila had undoubtedly been a godsend. Yet with the last of her tunnel vision she came forward until a mere foot’s length kept both groups apart, to which Joyce bent over just to ensure that she was there in the flesh. Sheila continued to watch, or seem like she wasn’t as her boss so brazenly kissed her companion squarely on the forehead. While it did come off as intimate, though. Parental…? “Thank you...” Joyce sighed, finding with each second she could see Emily right in front of her that all was right again. Could this be used as justification for a bonus? It was too rare to be called commonplace, which is why a unicorn was likely prancing around in Sheila’s head right then. Already a few years she had given to this woman, Joyce Summers, and the anomaly that’d been puppeting her for the past chunk of time was right before her. Being in such an informal situation after a night of dining with her boyfriend and returning to a luxurious hotel; it was the perfect combination to make even Sheila’s tight-lipped nature crack in just the slightest. She was teeming with curiosity. “Ms. Summers...Is this your friend?” An unprovoked question from Sheila was unusual, enough for Joyce to recognize that despite the heat of the moment. But beyond that, a question was a question. “Yes...but also my...girlfriend.” Sheila apart from Emily was her closest confidant. Stating something like that to someone she trusted every ounce of the inner workings of her career with could make even the mighty Joyce stumble, even if just a little. Sheila only nodded as she glanced back down at the girl against her shoulder. Girlfriend. It was embarrassing to admit, yet Sheila hadn’t completely considered it. Well, maybe a little, but not a girl as a lover. Had her pride as the all-knowing been hurt? Nevertheless, the small number of threads left unaccounted for in her head were already beginning to weave… Finally, enough of her adrenaline had been spent for there to be room for rationality and self-awareness. “Wait, where’s your boyfriend?” Joyce asked as she glanced from shoulder to shoulder. “He’s...” Sheila started to say, though for some reason she started to pick up on the sleeping girl’s breathing right beside her. “Waiting for me upstairs. I wanted to help Emily before I went up, though I didn’t know who she was before...” “Thank you again, Sheila...so much.” Joyce repeated as she sat on the other end of the bench, wasting no time in the delicate shift of Emily’s head from Sheila’s shoulder to hers. Alcohol. She certainly smelled of it. Why had she been drinking? Joyce knew she was feeling anxious about tonight, but she also knew there wouldn’t be a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d drink on her own. “I’m so sorry to hold you up like this; I went and lost her at the dinner and have been looking for her since...” “Ms. Summers, it’s no issue at all,” Sheila said quite candidly. After all, she’d been so gracious as to pay for her hotel room. To Sheila in her own exaggerated mind, that warranted at least her life in return. “How long have you two been at the party?” She asked in a somewhat informal way. “If I remember, they tend to go on for a while...” “A few hours...” Joyce answered with a sorrowful look. It was only in retrospect now that time seemed like a factor for anything. Of course Emily was out cold. Even if the alcohol wasn’t part of the equation, she knew she would have been dealing with a sleepy girl by now. “They always start late and end late...” She sighed as she stroked the top of Emily’s head. “Any other normal night and she’d be in bed by now...” And needless to say, bed was where she was headed next. “Were you able to meet with all the people you wanted to?” Sheila asked. As much as her boss disliked these events, their importance couldn’t be ignored. Networking was always the hidden objective, yet always the most important. “Y...not completely.” Joyce came to admit. She nearly put on airs as she looked down at Emily but slowly stopped herself once she remembered that it was only her secretary listening. “I may have been a little...dismissive. I’ve been looking for Emily all night...” She rested her cheek on the top of Emily’s head. “Thank you for helping me with my computers, by the way. That software works very well.” “Of course.” Sheila responded simply, though couldn’t help but glance at Emily, starting to re-interpret the original reason her boss had given her for it… What’s more, the party still had a little bit longer to go, yet Joyce wouldn’t be in attendance for it. Obviously not when she needed to put a certain somebody to bed. “Uhm...Ms. Summers?” Sheila politely interrupted her thoughts, getting Joyce to look over. “If you’d like, I can take Emily back to your room for you? So you can go back to the party?” The look of remorse on Joyce’s face was near immediate. “Sheila, you’re here with your boyfriend, I couldn’t do that to you...” “It’s no issue,” Sheila shook her head. “I can tell Greg that you had something important come up. He’ll understand. Work comes first, Ms. Summers.” As headstrong as Joyce could be around Sheila in spite of her own dutiful stubbornness, it suddenly felt like something exploitative was between them now. Something Sheila was using to her full advantage. “You still need to speak to some people, don’t you?” Sheila doubled down. “If it’s for the sake of the company, you can’t skip out early on these sorts of things, Ms. Summers...” “I know, I know...” Joyce reluctantly sighed. Sheila tended to be right about these things. Always about these things. Yet unfortunately, drunk little girls past their bedtimes aren’t exactly known for getting themselves to bed on their own. By the time she gets Emily settled down in her pajamas, the last thing she’d want to do is leave her… It was undoubtedly a wonderful thing to stress over the woes of being a doting mommy, yet also a slightly inconvenient thing at times… “Ms. Summers,” Sheila said clearly once more, “Please let me do this for you? You’ve already given me and my boyfriend a wonderful night. This is the least I could do for you?” “This isn’t a work-related issue though, Sheila...” Joyce tried to reason. “It isn’t?” Sheila contradicted. “Ms. Summers, if Emily is taken care of, that gives you the time to go back to the party, doesn’t it?” Maybe Sheila was off the rails for being so forward, yet as the synapses in her mind sparked, she felt more daring to assume what she had been hypothesizing from the start. “If her well-being affects your mood and performance at the office, I’d say that this is work-related.” Of course, she wasn’t looking to become another person’s secretary, however. “I mean to say that if I have the opportunity to help you, Ms. Summers, I’ll choose to.” Joyce wore a contemplative look as she fussed over the details in her mind. Obviously Sheila could be trusted, but...what if something went wrong? What if Emily woke up and wanted Joyce, but instead found some stranger in the hotel room? What if something went wrong and Joyce had to come back anyway? She packed pajamas, but what if Sheila accidentally picked the wrong ones? Emily always likes the silk pair over the… Wait...what if Emily had a nightmare? No. Absolutely not. There were too many pitfalls, too many chances for failure. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t reasonable. “Ms. Summers,” Sheila stared at her clearly. “I promise, Emily is in good hands.” She even smiled a small bit. In the back of her mind was a wild voice screaming cheers of eureka as her thesis had finally been proven; her research and discoveries hadn’t been for naught. The look on her face of deep, troubled thought was all too familiar. It was the same look she had whenever there was a bad day in the office, or when there was a seemingly “out of the blue” conversation she might have with her boss. The same atmosphere for when there was an inexplicably “off” mood her boss may have been having. It most certainly was the final piece that completed the full picture Sheila had come to have such an in-depth understanding of. Tonight she had begun to understand another integral part about her boss. If her work was her craft, she would say that she was determined to perfect it. As her eyes fell on Emily, she saw it as her determination to see Ms.Summer’s troubles and worries taken care of so that she could perform at her best. Besides, it was just taking her girlfriend back to the hotel room? Joyce was quiet for only a moment longer as she exhaled all her hesitations and sat up straight. Maybe she was being silly. She was extremely reluctant to ever delegate things as important as this to anyone. No, not even that. This’d be the first of its kind. At almost any other time she would say no. Yet it was Sheila who was offering, who had already done so much for the two without a single question already… “Okay...” Joyce sighed as she handed her room key to Sheila who accepted without a single remark, only with her typical dutiful look. “It’s not a lot, but just make sure you do a couple things when you get her back to the hotel room, okay? As long as you don’t mind...” “Of course not, Ms. Summers.” Sheila nodded. After all, she’d helped her boyfriend after a rough night in bed before. Strip them and send them off. “Then, as long as you don’t mind, just a couple things… If you could get her undressed once you get back to the bedroom. Just leave her dress hanging on something and I’ll take care of it in the morning. I left her pajamas in the top right drawer of the dresser; she gets stuffy in the other set, so make sure she gets the silk pair. I think she left her phone on the bed at some point, so if you could find it and leave it on the nightstand in case she wants to call me… Oh, and make sure she gets Pip--her...it’s a gift I gave her. A stuffed toy sort of thing. She...likes having it with her in our bed. I...I think that’s everything.” A small smile crept on her face as the words seemed to flow right out of her. “Thank you again, Sheila, I really appreciate this.” There was a moment of pause from Sheila’s end, seemingly overloaded by the long-winded explanation, yet her boss smiled so simply as if it were all second nature. “U...” She cleared her throat. “Understood. I’ll make sure she gets everything she needs.” Sheila couldn’t help but wonder, how high maintenance was this girl? “I’ll be waiting to let you back in your room.” “Thank you, Sheila. Truly.” Joyce gave her a look of complete gratitude before her eyes focused back on Emily. “Would you be able to give me just a minute though? It’d give you time to explain to your boyfriend how I’m tying you up...” She said apologetically. “It’s no issue at all,” Sheila said once more as she stood from the bench. Joyce watched as she strolled to the other end of the lobby before turning back. “Emily...” Joyce softly coaxed as she rocked her shoulder. Maybe the rhythm in her breath had changed, but still asleep. “Emily...” She raised her voice a little, clearly having to fight more than just tiredness this time around. A frustrated groan left her mouth as she started to move her head. Once her eyes opened they squinted into paper-thin slits, assaulted by the blinding light from above. “Come on, babygirl, time to wake up. You can’t sleep here.” “Joyce…?” Emily asked lazily, groping the body right next to her. It did feel like her… “Joyce…!” “Yes, hello to you too,” Joyce kissed her on the forehead. She was all smiles and relieved to be reunited, but that didn’t mean all was forgiven. “Can you tell me why I found you all the way down here? Why weren’t you at the party where I’ve been looking for you all night?” Joyce started the unfair sport as the girl with dwindled energy was still expected to play. “I did wait…!” Emily started to raise her voice with a tired whine. She answered to the sentence she heard in her mind, extrapolated and re-interpreted from the chunks she was actually picking up on. “I sat with Hank and Rebecca all night…!” “Who are Hank and Rebecca?” Joyce asked rightfully so. Did she meet people at the business dinner? Did they take her out somewhere drinking? She could already feel the sense of anger; running off with her special girl after being expressly told to stay where she could be seen. The simple follow-up was a level too critical for Emily’s impaired mind to process. “I...I dunno...rich people?” She whimpered as she tried opening her eyes yet again, yet found so much more solace in hiding them in the dark of Joyce’s side. “Rebecca was a bitch...” Somehow that came out clearly despite the mumbling. Joyce normally would have cracked a grin, yet she was still concerned. All was well in the end, but she still had yet to solve the crime and the motive. Just as much though, she also started to realize Emily was in no capacity to explain herself, much less tie her own shoes it felt like. There wasn’t much merit in a scolding if they weren’t going to truly understand it... She suspended the “talk” with a firm kiss on the forehead. “Emily? I still need to go back to the party to talk to some people. You know Sheila? My secretary, the one that called me on the phone for you?” “Mmhmm...” Emily mumbled with a small nod. It was obvious she wasn’t making the small connections yet, which is why Joyce didn’t spare the expense in spelling it out clearly. “Sheila’s going to take you back up to the room and get you in bed. I’ll be coming back later at night, okay?” “No.” “No?” Emily partly slumped as her head fell into Joyce’s lap and her arms around her waist. “No…!” Emily’s composure was slipping even further. She was exhausted and drunk and wanted nothing more than to go back and be in bed. But she wanted it with the bells and whistles too. She wanted Joyce with her. She’d become unmovable. Nothing else would make her cave. “Emily...” Joyce looked down at her sympathetically, but wasn’t feeling swayed. Sheila was right; a dinner like this was important. “You’re going to be asleep before you know it? I’m only going to be another hour or so--” “No!” She shouted into her dress. The explanation could have been anything and with as much fact and reason as Joyce would have liked. It still would not have mattered, simply because Emily was too far gone to process any of it. “I’ll...I’ll go with you--” She paused for a great, big yawn. Naturally the look was endearing. A stubborn girl who supposedly wasn’t ready for bed, yet everything but her attitude certainly was. “Weren’t you just asleep though? You just yawned, too? I should have said the party was going to run late, maybe then you wouldn’t have been so tired?” Maybe giving her an excuse could convince her... “I’m...” She liberally planted her hands on Joyce’s thighs as she propped herself up, squinting her glossy eyes as they begged to be closed once more. “I’m fine now...I can go too.” Joyce could feel an odd sense of deja vu. “No, sweetheart. Sheila’s going to take you back up to the room and get you in bed.” “I don’t need help...I just want you...” Emily selfishly said. It was all Joyce ever wanted to hear, and yet the timing couldn’t have been worse. While Joyce planned to tote Emily around from the start, seeing her in a state like this would only make her feel cruel. As childish as she was wonderfully being, there had to have been some adult left inside her tired mind to be reasoned with. “Tell you what,” Joyce caressed her cheek, “If you go back with Sheila to the room and get ready for bed, I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, there’ll be an amazingly delicious parfait waiting for you in the fridge tomorrow.” Maybe it was a cop-out bribing her like this, but she couldn’t stand to see her struggle any longer. “Already had one...” Emily mumbled. Well, so much for that. “We can go now...to the party.” She continued to use Joyce’s lap like an airstrip as she fully erected her torso by pushing off her. Just as she started to stand, the first wobble was evident and the prelude to something much more catastrophic. Before she could entirely slip and fall Joyce was already supporting her from behind. “Ah-ah, hang on there just a second,” Joyce said from behind, sitting her down gently back on the bench. “I just need a second to focus…” Emily whined as she rubbed her eyes. Joyce was on a knee now in front of her, trying to zero out the culprit. As light as Emily was, Joyce didn’t feel comfortable asking her secretary to carry someone else, assuming Sheila could even do it. So to spare anyone the complete awkwardness, Joyce carefully slipped a finger in the divot between Emily’s foot and heel, slipping it right off. A draft of air hit the bottom of her feet as Emily was a few seconds delayed in understanding what was happening. Nevertheless it was a refreshing feeling as the light bondage was removed. Joyce stood up with Emily’s heels hanging from one of her hands. “Okay, let’s try that again.” With an arm around Emily’s waist she rose once again, still leaning a bit for support, but able to walk again barefoot. “Better?” “The floor’s cold...” Emily pouted. “Well our suite has heated flooring, you know?” Joyce coaxed. “Come on, Sheila’s right over there, let’s go see her.” As they rounded the fountain, Sheila was off by the other end, seemingly admiring one of the large plants. Obviously more than a minute had passed, meaning she’d run out of meaningful things to do. Once she turned over and saw them approaching however she’d given the royal flora not a second longer. “Okay, Emily, Sheila’s going to take you back up to the room now,” Joyce explained patiently and softly. “Hi there, Emily,” Sheila gave a friendly smile like it was their first introduction. Though, if anyone had been paying attention thus far, one might notice that Ms. Summers got a ‘hello’, whereas Emily was just ‘hi’. Not that she wasn’t worthy of respect, yet even to Sheila, Emily’s very being seemed to dissolve formality. “H-...-i...” Her reply was so short but prolonged so greatly by her teary yawn. From Joyce’s perspective, it hit her like a sendoff to daycare or leaving her for the night with the babysitter, assuming toddlers wore heels as well. Then again, it’d just been determined Emily couldn’t be trusted in them... Joyce released her from her hold as Emily found her hand now in Sheila’s. She really couldn’t be trusted to walk on her own. “I promise I’ll be back soon, okay?” Joyce lowered her stance to reach her eyes head on. Emily gave her a dissatisfied nod. She’d already forgotten her resolve to remain, or discarded it like a fleeting thought. The squint in her eyes was more than just tiredness; mild dissatisfaction. She still wanted to go to the party with Joyce, whether she realistically could or not. But it was out of her hands, literally in Sheila’s. Joyce’s hands came down on Emily’s shoulders as her lips came up to her forehead. “I love you very much,” Joyce said. “Sleep well for me, got it?” “Love you tooh...” Maybe she was in over her head. Maybe some rest was the better option. Joyce soaked up as much of Emily’s appearance as she could. One last time she leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, but did say quietly, but loud enough for all three women to hear, “Be good for Sheila, okay?” Maybe it could be called unwarranted, but in the time she had known Emily, she wouldn’t put it past her to try at least something a little rebellious just to see her… Solo bedtimes had always been a struggle with her, after all. The previously called elevator finally opened up, signaling that it was time to part. Sheila in her moment alone must have glanced at the room number, because she brought Emily into the elevator with purpose as she pressed a corresponding button on the panel. “Bye!” Joyce stood there for as long as the doors stayed open, giving them a small wave from her hand just above her waist. Her send-off smile slumped away in the company of just herself. Of course she wanted to stay. She wanted to be the one to go back with Emily. She’d just gotten her back but had to willfully lose her again? It ached and made her heart throb, but the only treatment she could depend upon was her juggernaut of a secretary... The ascent was silent amongst the other two, be it that there may not have been a lot to talk about between a fully conscious secretary and her boss’ drunk and tired charge. That was Sheila’s frame of mind, at least. Girlfriend. Emily was Joyce’s girlfriend. It wasn’t difficult to see...but it may have been that Sheila saw more of something else. Maybe she just didn’t fully understand the scope of relationships. The soft tone she used, the doting attitude with a delicate touch and always observing her mannerisms and needs. Girlfriend, yes, but...maybe a different title felt more apt. Ms. Summers is a complete mommy. Yes. That seemed to be the easier end of the equation. “You work with Joyce...?” Emily surprisingly asked. She gathered that much even as tired as she was, but to what degree was still fuzzy for her. “Well, I...I don’t work with her, but I’d say that I work for her,” she calmly corrected, leaving the perfect slot of time a younger student might need to catch up with the rest. “I’m responsible for all of Ms.--...Joyce’s meetings and scheduling.” The calling of Ms. Summers by her first name felt odd in her mouth, like a foreign taste that simply felt wrong. A bland cracker just shy of stale. “That sounds nice...You must do a lot of work for her...” “Enough to keep me busy.” Sheila said back. Her other hand was holding Emily’s heels, keeping her arm bent at a 90 degree angle. It was held that way instead of just drooping by her side almost like a subconscious effort to remind herself of her duties. If energy needed to be spent doing something as obscure as holding up a pair of shoes, that naturally led to questions in the wandering mind which made it impossible to forget what the bigger picture really was. A fun tip she had learned from her work; leave yourself a trail of crumbs should you ever get lost along the way… Once the doors opened Sheila took the lead in stepping out into the hall. While glancing both ways for the right direction, Emily seemed to know as she started walking one way. Sheila gently pulled her back however. “Oops, I think it’s the other way...” She started leading them the other direction. Down the hall they went and Sheila carefully scanned the few passing rooms until the number on the door matched the number on the key. With a quick swipe a digital sound of victory played and they stepped inside. Sheila was in silent amazement by the sheer size of the suite. She had a general idea of what she’d be walking into, but seeing it in-person always had that profound sort of effect. “Okay...” Sheila said to herself quietly, summing all the items in her head that Ms. Summers had listed as careful instructions. “Bedtime...” She said once more, though she’d need a minute to get it all ready. “Emily?” She smiled for her attention, catching her head starting to bob every so often as her eyelids were drooping. “Hmm…?” Emily murmured back. “I’m just going to get what I need ready in the bedroom, okay? Do you want to sit on the couch?” “It’s fine...” Emily yawned as she tried to wave her off. “I can do it...I can get ready for bed. Thank you though...” She finally let go of Sheila’s hand and walked ahead to the bedroom. Sheila didn’t object, though she followed from behind with an observant eye. She was an adult… It only made sense to humor her. In Emily’s mind, the first thing that made sense was to walk over to her suitcase and get her pajamas. She stopped halfway across the room though, remembering that they’d unpacked them once they got here. Small mistake. Forgivable. Back over to the dresser she went. It was a little difficult to discern how many drawers she was looking at though. The lines were sort of blurred as she fished for the drawer handles, not sure why she had to be feeling around for them rather than just see them? Yet somehow as if the universe had heard her plea, or her body understood her desires, her vision became clearer as the dresser and all its detailed edges and corners came into view. Did she have superpowers? Sheila instead, was standing right by a dimmer switch that’d been left off. Emily opened one drawer. Nope. Day clothes. She checked another. Still no, just shirts. The next was socks and underwear, the other was jeans...did she check this one already? Did she check it thoroughly? She was already getting tired of searching. She wanted to sleep, not deal with finding the very things to sleep in! “Okay, okay,” Sheila came from behind with a light hand on Emily’s back. “How about you sit down on the bed and get your dress off? I think Ms.--Joyce told me where I can find them.” Emily did just that without a fight. She wandered over to the bed, tempted to simply slump herself on it, though remembered by just a hanging thread to remove the threads she was currently in. Sheila assumed she had remembered correctly, singling out the top right drawer that Emily missed. Opening it up was a grey set of pajamas, but looking underneath that was a pair of pastel purple ones. Rubbing the material between her fingers deduced that they were silk. “Emily? I got your pajamas...” Sheila said as she turned, but found a girl who seemed to struggle with any kind of progress whatsoever. Her torso bent awkwardly as her hands from top and bottom tried to attack the small zipper behind her back, yet she seemed helpless in the attempt to reach it. “Oh...uhm, those can be tricky...” Sheila wasn’t sure what to say to the drunk girl as she came over to help. It slid down with ease and Sheila helped her finish entirely just to avoid potential confusion with even slipping the straps off her shoulders. Now naked, save for a bra and panties, Emily wanted absolutely more than anything to go to bed. “Just a little longer...” Sheila coaxed, seeing that Emily really was about to embark on the final frontier. “I can do it now...” Emily moaned with yet another stretch in her jaw as she made yet another sleepy howl. Her protests that only commanded force in the way of words had only come after considering the fleeting thought that it may be better to stay modest by dressing herself. She was pretty sure Sheila explained who she was to Joyce at some point, but not even Joyce’s coworkers got to see her naked just because. “Can you?” Sheila humored her as she stopped in her tracks. Emily fell back on her bottom on the bed, holding out her hands for the pajama shorts. “I just need privacy...” Emily said so clearly, yet didn’t give Sheila even a second to consider whether or not she should actually leave. Emily hadn’t even finished her hollow request by the time she was trying to thread her feet into the leg holes of her shorts. Her depth perception must have been exhausted or the world itself was losing balance, because staring down the holes of her shorts so intently somehow made it so hard to keep her legs straight. She’d lift a foot, delicate and slow, then feel the need to shoot it forward like a dart for absolute precision. After the third time of getting caught on the edge and slingshotting them out of her hands, Sheila was already picking them up. It seemed they were past the arguing stage of things because Emily didn’t give many words as Sheila knelt down to feed Emily’s feet into the proper leg holes. And as she did so, she was certainly feeling perplexed. Needing to go back to the office late at night to get a project report, or working overtime just to schedule one of her last-minute meetings. Sheila had explored and ventured her fair share of “bonus” tasks her boss could apologetically ask of her. And under the oath of absolute secrecy, even her request a while back about manufacturing special adult diapers was certainly out of the ordinary, but it was passable because it was yet another detached request. Dealing with inanimate things that were meant for something else. Something that did not concern Sheila. “And up we go...” Sheila’s voice smoothly cooed as she forced Emily’s posture to slide the shorts up her legs. Maybe the pajamas were inanimate, but she’d never been told to do something so...hands-on by her boss before. This time the destination was the task itself. She was working with the person themself now, not the lead-up. The more she thought, the more things were making too much sense. Jumping to conclusions was dangerous, yet the likelihood of everything… It was like she was in high school again, helping her baby cousins get ready for bed. At least thanks to the disparity in height Emily made for an easy girl to get dressed. Once Emily’s head popped through the neckhole of the shirt, Sheila fussed as much as to readjust her slightly disheveled hair. Maybe it was the perfectionist in her. Maybe it was something else. “Okay, let’s get you into bed,” Sheila kept a hand on Emily’s back as she steered her over to the edge where she even pulled back the covers for her. Emily sat on the edge, but she did lay down. “I’m okay now...” She rubbed her eyes. “Thank you...but I’m gonna wait until Joyce comes back.” Sheila didn’t answer back. She walked around the bed as she sought to complete everything entrusted to her. Not only that, but it gave her a chance to think of how she should respond. Emily partly watched as she looked around for something, whatever it was. Either way, she did want to crash and sleep so soundly, but something about her would only permit it should Joyce be there for bed too. Waiting in bed was a certain red flag, hence why she was standing up from the bed. “No, back in bed.” Sheila spoke calmly with a twirl of her fingers, yet her words had no flexibility. Apparently what she’d found was in between both her hands now. Emily quickly realized this too, seeing the womanizer held before her. Pip. The rascal, seemingly shaking around his inanimate, limbless mochi-ball-body for anyone… “I even have your...” What it was exactly couldn’t reach Sheila’s limited imagination, but her resourceful memory filled the gap. “Pip. I have Pip, see? Hop in bed. Joyce will be back later tonight.” Or morning, with how things usually went, but she wasn’t going to torture the poor girl with that. “I just need coffee or something...” Emily started to walk past her, resolving that Pip was probably in good hands, or that the traitor deserved a traitor’s death for fraternizing with the enemy. “Emily, no.” Sheila went as far as to grab Emily’s wrist as she was walking away. Obviously she wasn’t going to cross a line, but so far the girl seemed to respond well to verbal instructions padded with a guiding force, be that because of the alcohol or her nature. Regardless, Sheila wasn’t as merciful to not exploit it. “There’s no coffee,” maybe there was, but in the reality Sheila was presenting to her, there certainly wasn’t, “let’s get back in bed?” “But I’m just...” Emily found herself explaining her actions, but the well of wisdom dried up for a couple reasons. First and foremost was a slight surreal feeling. Why did she need to explain herself, a grown adult, to another adult about why she didn’t need to go to bed yet? Second, why did the louder voice in her head simply want her to fold and obey? Sheila up until now indirectly communicated to the intoxicated and tired Emily that she was a neutral, orderly type. She wasn’t seeing that so much anymore as she stared up at the woman. Maybe it was only for a brief flash, yet she felt the spark of a stern Joyce. One that had a no-nonsense kind of attitude when it came to naps and bedtime. Joyce had the cushy words, coos and delicate touch that made the bitter pill that much sweeter. None of those luxuries were here now as Sheila’s look commanded obedience. Before Sheila could say anything else or Emily could start shuffling awkwardly, she instinctively started to retreat back to bed, tail tucked behind her legs as she carried an odd sense of defeat under her belt. Was this a good time to praise her? Sheila wondered for just a brief moment. Maybe she was getting too immersed into the situation. She did gingerly tuck Pip by Emily’s side though before she drew up the covers. The last step was to leave Emily with her phone so she could call Joyce, but with a recently made escape-attempt to the couch in mind, she made the judgement call to come back in later after she was asleep to leave the phone. “Do you want any water before I shut off the lights?” Sheila asked. It wasn’t part of the original instruction set, but dehydration after excessive drinking was a fair concern. “...Sure.” Emily decided as she rose up from the bed. “No, you stay in bed,” Sheila caught her before her legs came out from under the covers. “I’ll get you a glass. Stay put.” It was like a pecking order. Sheila found herself whimsically thinking as she started to search for a glass, then thought better of herself by checking for a bottle of water in the fridge. Joyce--Ms. Summers, sat at the top, naturally. Then there was Sheila as her right hand, followed beneath her by Emily, Little Miss Summers, affectionately patted on the head by the left hand. Maybe the wine from her dinner with Greg had her fantasizing like this. She was her boss’ girlfriend, not her child, even if the subtle things she did notice meant anything at all. “Do you want the cap off?” Sheila found herself asking, yet was already untwisting the top for her. She waited patiently as Emily sipped from the bottle, taking it back before she could set it on the nightstand. All precautionary. She just got her ready for bed and wasn’t looking to prolong the process by drying water out of anything. “Thanks, Sheila...” Emily murmured as her eyes continued to droop. She wanted to sit up, but the child in her warned that it might only end in Sheila scolding her to lay back down. It was all baseless conjecture, yet both Emily and Sheila in their opposing positions found themselves confused whether to envision each other one way or another. Just an adult, or just a child? Just a secretary, or just a babysitter? Neither answer was completely true, but both were acting in a way that did imply one over the other. Sheila continued to babysit while Emily let herself be sat upon. “You’re welcome.” She turned the lights off next with the only source of light being the faint sky through the hotel window. She hung by the doorway, saying, “I’ll be here until Joyce comes back, so if you need anything I’ll be in the room outside, okay?” “Mhmm...” Emily turned the other way, always mesmerized by how simply turning the other cheek to your pillow could make a world of difference in maximizing your comfort levels. She’d already long forgotten about rebellion, now making amends with Pip as he lay snuggled against her chest. Considered a job past the bulk of its difficulties, Sheila closed the door as silently as she could, turning back into the more illuminated living space as she found herself on the couch. Being in a dress she didn’t feel too comfortable getting comfortable, especially in her boss’ hotel room. Maybe in that regard Emily in her brief little fantasy wasn’t as low as she’d thought in the hierarchy. Joyce’s left hand? It made sense in a way, considering you never hear about the left-hand man as opposed to the right. She never did hear the specifics about her boss’ homelife, only the generalizations and “hypotheticals” that would occasionally pop up. A mostly quiet hour and a half did ensue, leaving even Sheila feeling a bit sleepy. She could only hope that her boyfriend wasn’t waiting for her. This all in itself was a surprise sort of sprung on her, but thankfully she did make it clear beforehand that something like this could happen. Buzzing beside her was her phone, picking it up and seeing that it was her boss. “Hello? Ms. Summers?” Sheila answered. “Sheila? I’m outside the room. Could you let me in?” Hanging up she rounded the couch and over to the door. Looking through the peephole confirmed as the voice on the line had told her. Once she opened it up Joyce on the other side let out a small sigh of relief as her shoulders hung dramatically low. “Finally, it’s over… I would have knocked, but I didn’t want to give Emily an excuse to wake up.” She didn’t hesitate in half-kicking off her heels. “I know how those things can run so long, but I guess my body sort of forgets if they’re too few and far between...” “Did you get to speak to everyone you wanted to?” Sheila asked, hanging by the doorway still. She was always available, but even she wanted to go back to her room. “Yes, I did… Thank you again so much for not only finding Emily, but taking her back up here for me.” Then, by a slip of the tongue she accidentally asked, “Was she good for you?” “No issues,” Sheila confirmed, quietly taking in the last question as a mental log. “I did give her some water before bed though since it seemed like she drank a fair amount...” “Thank you, so-so-so much.” Joyce blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Sheila, please. Everything from tonight, even tomorrow. Please, go out or something with your boyfriend. Buy something nice, go out for lunch; I want to show you how thankful I am. This night was supposed to be a night off for you, but I forced this on you...” “I’ll...keep it in mind.” Sheila sufficed, a little too tired herself to go through the mandatory back-and-forth before an inevitable compromise. “It’s no issue at all. Whenever you need help I’m always available, Ms. Summers.” Joyce nodded with a smile. “Okay.” She glanced over at the room key that was thoughtfully left in an obvious place. “You can leave now. I think I’m ready for bed myself...” “Have a good night, Ms. Summers.” Sheila bid farewell as she closed the door after hearing a final goodbye from her boss. Now with only two in the suite, Joyce eyed the closed door as she tip-toed over to it, gently turning the handle as she crept inside the dark room. By the sound of her quiet rise and fall in breaths through her nose, Joyce was delighted to see that Emily was fast asleep, snuggling with Pip, no less. Damn. If only she could take a picture… She wouldn’t dare though, not when she was sleeping so peacefully. In a chair by their suitcases, Joyce watched for just a little longer. Then she shifted her gaze out the window. Then back to Emily...then back outside. But every time she did glance to and fro, her axle would experience friction as she slowed every time to look at something in between. Her suitcase. One look. Two looks. Three. Certainly Emily was asleep. Certainly. Naughty was the best way to describe it. Peeking at the presents hidden in the attic before “Santa” came to deliver them. Something like that. Joyce was slouched over on her knees as she quietly unzipped a small pocket. Stuffed inside was a packet of travel tissues. A welcome companion, but predominantly a decoy and a rouse for this trip. Joyce was bad and she was completely self-aware. No matter how hard she tried, she never could go completely clean, could she? Dangling from her finger was her little addiction; a fix she couldn’t quite kick. One of Emily’s pacifiers. Her eyes came just above the mattress, fantasizing the dream of “accidentally” leaving it by the girl’s mouth and watching her take to it so easily. She softly exhaled with a dreamy smile imagining the thought. Maybe if Emily didn’t mind they could make this her next habit… But of course, no amount of future plans that involved consent excused anything for what happened in the past or now. When Emily left to go use the computer Joyce had been packing like normal, honest to God. But...she just wanted to see the nursery at least once before they left for the night. It’d been her ritual. A night when it wasn’t used was like neglecting a puppy. She at least needed to see it in all its glory regularly. So with her alone time she did… Then, all the thoughts plagued her mind about tonight. All the things that could go wrong for Emily and how she could just become a big ball of stress. That’s how she got to thinking about bringing Pip. But what good was a contingency plan if not without a backup one? It was all too convenient in Joyce’s mind to not bring a pacifier. It was small, easy to hide, and quick to deploy. And if all went well, Emily would never have to know. And she wouldn’t. These were the white lies she couldn’t rid herself of… But on the other hand, if she were confronted directly about it, of course she’d admit to it. But if Emily never had any suspicions, there’d never be the chance she’d ask? Her finger playfully flicked at the silicon bulb until she started to yawn herself. It was unfortunate in its own way that they didn’t get to use it tonight… Content with her secret little ritual, Joyce started to undress before joining her girlfriend in bed. While Joyce toyed with the cute image of Emily having a fixation on pacifiers, she’d blinded herself to the reality before her that wasn’t far off from her own imagination. Little by little, Emily already was showing tiny cute dependencies or little habits slowly being drawn out of her and inked on her like permanent tattoos. All it took was Joyce getting in bed and the slight impression in the mattress for Emily to slide over in her sleep. Maybe her sixth unconscious sense could feel the tinge of body heat Joyce had, but it didn’t change that something in the girl decided she wanted to be close to the person next to her. Despite being so late to bed, Joyce and Emily were now back in their usual posture; head to bosom and arm over the waist. So in spite of all the hiccups and as a bonus to the good moments that they did have, it was unreal to consider a public outing finally a positive experience. No sore feelings or “big” talks that needed to be had in post. Just a wonderful experience overall, with seemingly endless more to come. Joyce’s hand found itself absentmindedly rubbing Emily’s bottom, going as far as to sneak underneath her silk shorts and beneath the waistband of her underwear. If she wasn’t going to get the feel of crinkly plastic-backed cuteness, she wanted nothing less than the source itself. The panties and big girl clothes were all silly disguises in Joyce’s playful mind. Costumes for the big role Emily put on for everyone else. Seeing down in just her birthday suit maintained that everything she wore was superficial. Everything except what Emily wanted Joyce to decide for her. Thicker, more durable clothes. Bright colors, soft pastels, crinkly underpants. Her last few conscious thoughts were spent on all the different outfits she could see Emily in whilst rhythmically stroking her bare bottom. Both parties feeling content now, Joyce wasn’t much longer until she was fast asleep too.